Re: Whose Clueless Now? USxUK part 5a
anonymous
December 25 2009, 22:52:44 UTC
Alfred was positively miserable by the time the meeting adjourned. Arthur hadn’t looked at him the entire time, not even to glance, before the man was walking out the door with Matthew at his side. Alfred’s eyes followed Arthur out of the room forlornly, before a hand came down on his shoulder.
Alfred looked up to see Francis standing behind him and leaning over his shoulder, a smile on his face. Alfred opened his mouth to speak, angry that the man was so full of good cheer when his plan had so obviously backfired, but the Frenchman interrupted him.
“Next we must work on your etiquette.”
Alfred sent him a suspicious look. “Francis…”
“Trust me, mon ami.” And suddenly the man’s tone was completely serious, his expression matching the gravity of his words. “This will work.”
Alfred closed his mouth against a retort, sighed in resignation, and then simply nodded. After all, he still couldn’t really trust the man, but Francis was rarely ever serious like that, and he was the only person who could help him in his current predicament. He realized belatedly that he sounded a little desperate, but he didn’t care - because he kind of was.
He hadn’t thought Arthur’s coldness to him during the meeting could have hurt him as much as it did, but now that he had been on the receiving end, he wanted to fix it somehow. He would do anything.
Francis’s smile was back in place. “Meet me tonight at 7pm sharp in the lobby. I must do a little investigating beforehand. Wear the suit.”
And on that cryptic note, the man was gone, leaving Alfred to sigh tiredly before gathering his things.
Francis was waiting for him in the lobby when he exited the elevator at 5 past 7. The man was wearing one of his more tailored suits and the smile on his face was more than a little cunning as he watched Alfred approach.
Francis clucked his tongue reproachfully when Alfred reached him and absently brushed some lint away from Alfred’s shoulder. “You are late, mon cher.”
“Only by 5 minutes,” Alfred retorted, feeling inexplicably annoyed.
But Francis only smiled. “Our dear Angleterre values punctuality above all else, non?”
Alfred paused, before nodding. It was true. In fact, one of Arthur’s biggest criticisms of him had always been his compulsion to tardiness.
“Good, good,” Francis replied good-naturedly. “Well, we must be off.”
Alfred stared a bit at the arm Francis offered him, but the man only stared him down, that same enigmatic smile on his face, before Alfred took it and looped their arms together.
“The first thing you must learn, mon cher, is how to be a proper escort,” Francis stated, by way of explanation, as they exited the hotel and walked down the street.
Alfred stared at him, and the confusion must have shown plainly on his face, because Francis sighed and added. “For when you ask Angleterre to dinner, of course.”
Alfred nodded slowly, wondering if any of this would actually help him at all. Although Arthur had always berated him for his lack of tact, and he supposed learning from Francis - the self-professed expert on love - how to be a good date, could be beneficial somehow. He felt a pinch of nervousness, however, at even the mere thought of asking Arthur out to dinner. “Where are we going, Francis?”
“Ah, to a nice restaurant, of course,” Francis replied, and he pointed across the street a little ways to a quaint little Italian establishment called, Amore.
When they entered, the place was packed, but Francis had made a reservation in advance so they were quickly whisked to their table by a smart looking waitress. Alfred sat down across from Francis at an intimate little round-table, complete with a single rose in a vase sitting in the middle. A candle sat next to it and it was some of the only light they had to see by.
Alfred looked up to see Francis standing behind him and leaning over his shoulder, a smile on his face. Alfred opened his mouth to speak, angry that the man was so full of good cheer when his plan had so obviously backfired, but the Frenchman interrupted him.
“Next we must work on your etiquette.”
Alfred sent him a suspicious look. “Francis…”
“Trust me, mon ami.” And suddenly the man’s tone was completely serious, his expression matching the gravity of his words. “This will work.”
Alfred closed his mouth against a retort, sighed in resignation, and then simply nodded. After all, he still couldn’t really trust the man, but Francis was rarely ever serious like that, and he was the only person who could help him in his current predicament. He realized belatedly that he sounded a little desperate, but he didn’t care - because he kind of was.
He hadn’t thought Arthur’s coldness to him during the meeting could have hurt him as much as it did, but now that he had been on the receiving end, he wanted to fix it somehow. He would do anything.
Francis’s smile was back in place. “Meet me tonight at 7pm sharp in the lobby. I must do a little investigating beforehand. Wear the suit.”
And on that cryptic note, the man was gone, leaving Alfred to sigh tiredly before gathering his things.
Francis was waiting for him in the lobby when he exited the elevator at 5 past 7. The man was wearing one of his more tailored suits and the smile on his face was more than a little cunning as he watched Alfred approach.
Francis clucked his tongue reproachfully when Alfred reached him and absently brushed some lint away from Alfred’s shoulder. “You are late, mon cher.”
“Only by 5 minutes,” Alfred retorted, feeling inexplicably annoyed.
But Francis only smiled. “Our dear Angleterre values punctuality above all else, non?”
Alfred paused, before nodding. It was true. In fact, one of Arthur’s biggest criticisms of him had always been his compulsion to tardiness.
“Good, good,” Francis replied good-naturedly. “Well, we must be off.”
Alfred stared a bit at the arm Francis offered him, but the man only stared him down, that same enigmatic smile on his face, before Alfred took it and looped their arms together.
“The first thing you must learn, mon cher, is how to be a proper escort,” Francis stated, by way of explanation, as they exited the hotel and walked down the street.
Alfred stared at him, and the confusion must have shown plainly on his face, because Francis sighed and added. “For when you ask Angleterre to dinner, of course.”
Alfred nodded slowly, wondering if any of this would actually help him at all. Although Arthur had always berated him for his lack of tact, and he supposed learning from Francis - the self-professed expert on love - how to be a good date, could be beneficial somehow. He felt a pinch of nervousness, however, at even the mere thought of asking Arthur out to dinner. “Where are we going, Francis?”
“Ah, to a nice restaurant, of course,” Francis replied, and he pointed across the street a little ways to a quaint little Italian establishment called, Amore.
When they entered, the place was packed, but Francis had made a reservation in advance so they were quickly whisked to their table by a smart looking waitress. Alfred sat down across from Francis at an intimate little round-table, complete with a single rose in a vase sitting in the middle. A candle sat next to it and it was some of the only light they had to see by.
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