(no subject)
"You aren't supposed to be here," says Geoffrey, lying on his back on the beach and lacing his fingers behind his head. This is what a man of leisure is supposed to be able to do, so here he is. He feels it likely, however, that all he's going to end up with is a sunburn.
"I can be anywhere I like," protests Oliver, pacing along the sand in front of him.
No, actually, he can't these days, and Geoffrey smiles to think how very long it's been since Oliver has shown up anywhere near his home. The stage is expected; the beach is fine too. But his home has remained inviolate.
"You might've invited me to the wedding."
"I didn't not invite you to the wedding," says Geoffrey, though on some subconscious level, maybe he did. If, in fact, seeing Oliver really was a choice. "It wasn't that far from here, you know. Just over there." He even points at the spot in the distance.
"Well, how would I?" says Oliver. "I wasn't invited."
"So, what, does that mean you're not happy for me?" says Geoffrey, crossing his legs at the ankle and giving Oliver a look that's more amused, that's more tolerant, than agitated. It's an odd feeling, but a comforting one.
"Well," Oliver hedges, "he's no Jack Crew." But then, for Oliver, no one was. "Imagine. Geoffrey Tennant. Married."
Geoffrey doesn't have to imagine it, he's living it, and he doesn't think his imagination could have done it justice anyway. Nothing about his life on the island is anything like what he could have expected.
"Be quiet, Oliver, I'm trying to get a tan," he says, to Oliver's shocked and faintly appalled look, and closes his eyes and smiles up at the sunshine he feels all over his bare skin.
[ooc: not exactly as advertised in the icon! Geoffrey is, in fact, wearing shorts. As always, Oliver can be seen and heard by no one but Geoffrey.]
"I can be anywhere I like," protests Oliver, pacing along the sand in front of him.
No, actually, he can't these days, and Geoffrey smiles to think how very long it's been since Oliver has shown up anywhere near his home. The stage is expected; the beach is fine too. But his home has remained inviolate.
"You might've invited me to the wedding."
"I didn't not invite you to the wedding," says Geoffrey, though on some subconscious level, maybe he did. If, in fact, seeing Oliver really was a choice. "It wasn't that far from here, you know. Just over there." He even points at the spot in the distance.
"Well, how would I?" says Oliver. "I wasn't invited."
"So, what, does that mean you're not happy for me?" says Geoffrey, crossing his legs at the ankle and giving Oliver a look that's more amused, that's more tolerant, than agitated. It's an odd feeling, but a comforting one.
"Well," Oliver hedges, "he's no Jack Crew." But then, for Oliver, no one was. "Imagine. Geoffrey Tennant. Married."
Geoffrey doesn't have to imagine it, he's living it, and he doesn't think his imagination could have done it justice anyway. Nothing about his life on the island is anything like what he could have expected.
"Be quiet, Oliver, I'm trying to get a tan," he says, to Oliver's shocked and faintly appalled look, and closes his eyes and smiles up at the sunshine he feels all over his bare skin.
[ooc: not exactly as advertised in the icon! Geoffrey is, in fact, wearing shorts. As always, Oliver can be seen and heard by no one but Geoffrey.]