[Very curious how that seems to work for Orange also feels the strangeness of one met yesterday who feels like a soul known from long ago. Perhaps it speaks great lengths of Alfred's desperation for companionship, perhaps it is something else. The warmth spilling into him feels like some kind of christening, a baptism. He cannot know, only God does.]
Blanc.
[If only he could have leave to call him Lawrence. Alfred sucks in another sharp hiss of breath. He reaches behind himself in an effort to touch the braided man anywhere he can, by hair, by neck, by arm. Anything. Orange wishes to be perfumed in his scent.]
no subject
Blanc.
[If only he could have leave to call him Lawrence. Alfred sucks in another sharp hiss of breath. He reaches behind himself in an effort to touch the braided man anywhere he can, by hair, by neck, by arm. Anything. Orange wishes to be perfumed in his scent.]