Jarlaxle 005

[showmeshinies]

Who: Jarlaxle and Dorian
Where: At the tavern first, then I guess we'll wing it from there?
Style: Up to you, starting in third.
Status: Closed.

Clad in the same clothing from their earlier conversation, a pair of tight leather pants that accentuated his small frame and knee-high black boots and an assortment of skillfully crafted gold jewelry,

Comments

[wilfulsunbeams]

Oh the possibilities. For all his indulgences, Dorian had never befriended somebody with skin quite that dark or somebody who was not even human to begin with. A lifetime ago, the young man might recoil from such foreignness in fear and perhaps disgust. But the immortal that he was now merely shook his head at the naivate he lost so long ago. It would be an experience, and Dorian found himself looking forward to it greatly.

Dressed in a dark purple coat made from velvet, Dorian twirled his cane in his hands as he made his way towards the tavern. His companion for the evening was easy enough to spot. With a smile, the man pushed up the brim of his hat slightly with his cane, raising an eyebrow in greeting.

"Am I late?"

[showmeshinies]

Ah, there he was. Jarlaxle smiled beautifully at the stranger and stood to greet him. It didn't matter to him at the moment whether or not this surprisingly charming human had been late or on time, and he tipped his hat in greeting. The human was taller than him by several inches, though it was a trait Jarlaxle was used to seeing in the adults of that particular race. His companion was well-dressed, and Jarlaxle approved of his appearance. Everything seemed to be well-in order thus far.

"You're perfectly fine," he replied. "I am glad to finally meet you."

[wilfulsunbeams]

"As do I," Dorian replied warmly, pulling a chair out for himself, and waited for his companion to sit before doing so himself. The man was an interesting sight indeed. Dorian studied how the skin was dark, so dark it was almost black, emphasizing the whites of the man's eyes and teeth. The entire image was grotesque, utterly foreign from the fair skinned ladies from back home.

And very, very fascinating.

[showmeshinies]

Rather used to taking the lead, Jarlaxle took his seat first, not taking his eyes off this most curious human. He sat straight-backed in his chair, looking for all the world like some dark, regal prince and not a scheming and devious mercenary.

"Would you care for some fine wine, or some fine food?" Jarlaxle asked. He kept a charming smile about his face and his eyes full of invitation, but to what end that invitation might be for, he left that up to Dorian to decide.