What happens in Paris stays in Paris...
WHO: Berwald and Francis
WHEN: Year 2008
WHERE: Paris
WHAT: A lonely and depressed Swede meets a Frenchman. Later, Berwald resolved to forget this ever happened.
RATING: Pending
Berwald was walking along a bridge in Paris, dragging his feet encased in uncomfortable dress shoes and his shoulders hunched inside the crisp dark jacket. He was glad to be away from the business dinner that Berwald knew had been as if not more decisive than the official discussion they'd had before it. He also knew he could have done worse but that his mother would not be happy with the results. After all, Ox Star corporations had held the stronger position from the beginning but faced with the more experienced businessmen, Berwald had just barely kept the company on the good side of their minimum requirements.
The whiskey they'd offered him at the meeting hadn't helped. Well, it might have helped his courage but he'd been too nervous to eat before and the alcohol had made his mind feel fuzzy and the goals he'd come there with seem not quite so important. So maybe it had only dulled his fear of what mother would say when he messed things up, Berwald thought with dark humour. And of course they served even more alcohol with dinner, along with probably horribly expensive tiny spoonfulls of food. Wine, mostly. Berwald was more used to beer, wine always seemed to get him drunk way too fast, unless that was what he was looking for. He'd drank all on offer with dinner, of course, figuring his work was ruined already.
The lines of lamps at the edges of the bridge were already casting pools of light even though the sun hadn't quite set yet. At the middle of the bridge he stopped, drifting to the side and draping his arms over the stone railing. Dark silhouettes of houses lined the river on both sides against the sky, broken by the spire of a cathedral in one spot. the sky was pink at the bottom and growing a darker and darker blue at the top. No visible stars and there wouldn't be, because of the lights of the city.
A bit further away he could see another bridge, and even further away a third, bigger one, with cars driving over it. It was far away enough their noise was a muted hum. The bridges were blue against the lighter sky and the water was reflecting them in slightly darker hues, except directly beneath Berwald where is was pitch black. He looked down into it indifferently. Well, at least the view was nice, Berwald thought wryly. Calming.
WHEN: Year 2008
WHERE: Paris
WHAT: A lonely and depressed Swede meets a Frenchman. Later, Berwald resolved to forget this ever happened.
RATING: Pending
Berwald was walking along a bridge in Paris, dragging his feet encased in uncomfortable dress shoes and his shoulders hunched inside the crisp dark jacket. He was glad to be away from the business dinner that Berwald knew had been as if not more decisive than the official discussion they'd had before it. He also knew he could have done worse but that his mother would not be happy with the results. After all, Ox Star corporations had held the stronger position from the beginning but faced with the more experienced businessmen, Berwald had just barely kept the company on the good side of their minimum requirements.
The whiskey they'd offered him at the meeting hadn't helped. Well, it might have helped his courage but he'd been too nervous to eat before and the alcohol had made his mind feel fuzzy and the goals he'd come there with seem not quite so important. So maybe it had only dulled his fear of what mother would say when he messed things up, Berwald thought with dark humour. And of course they served even more alcohol with dinner, along with probably horribly expensive tiny spoonfulls of food. Wine, mostly. Berwald was more used to beer, wine always seemed to get him drunk way too fast, unless that was what he was looking for. He'd drank all on offer with dinner, of course, figuring his work was ruined already.
The lines of lamps at the edges of the bridge were already casting pools of light even though the sun hadn't quite set yet. At the middle of the bridge he stopped, drifting to the side and draping his arms over the stone railing. Dark silhouettes of houses lined the river on both sides against the sky, broken by the spire of a cathedral in one spot. the sky was pink at the bottom and growing a darker and darker blue at the top. No visible stars and there wouldn't be, because of the lights of the city.
A bit further away he could see another bridge, and even further away a third, bigger one, with cars driving over it. It was far away enough their noise was a muted hum. The bridges were blue against the lighter sky and the water was reflecting them in slightly darker hues, except directly beneath Berwald where is was pitch black. He looked down into it indifferently. Well, at least the view was nice, Berwald thought wryly. Calming.