open rp post

[cacophonish]

OPEN RP POST

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[semicharmed]

“—Oh. Uh, it’s.”

Matt actually has to check his own book that he’s carrying, because he hasn’t been reading it so much as using it like a paper-brick amulet. Aleister Crowley.

Of course it is.

“He’s undoubtedly the embarrassing racist-and-or-sexist uncle of the magical world,” Matt disclaims, rueful. “But he has some good points. ‘Love is the law.’” He smiles, shaking his head. “Anyway, it’s not like I was getting a whole lot of reading done while you were playing. I didn’t want to miss anything. You are seriously, really talented.”

[cacophonish]

"Ohhh..." He sinks down onto the stage, since he was already halfway there anyway, practically flopping back in defeat once he sees the author's name. "I never could finish any of his books." Any time he'd try to read Crowley (because, of course, Gifted kids are encouraged to read everything, no matter how tedious), it was like every sentence would rush right out of his head the moment he moved on to the next.

Old British guys. They might as well have been writing in a foreign language.

But. 'Love is the law.' That sounds nice. He smiles dreamily as Matt says those words, then lifts his head again, propping himself up on his elbows.

"Aww... And I didn't even have to cast a spell on the room or anything." His smile crooks up a notch, angled with a sort of roguish intent. "You seem like a sweet guy, Matt. I don't meet a lot of sweet guys at my usual shows."

Since his usual shows are far more like magic-and-drug fueled bacchanals than laid back acoustic covers. It's not like there's many chances to just chill out and talk with any of the sweet guys who might be in the crowd. Nobody's ever sober enough for a relaxed meet and greet, least of all Jeff.

[semicharmed]

"If you didn't like his prose, stay the hell away from his poetry," Matt observes with rueful amusement, and is maybe about to go off on some bookish tangent when Jeff--

Well. Looks at him like that. But also keeps talking, which provides a lot of very interesting and distracting information.

"I, ah. Try to be, I guess." Matt's answering smile, as he toys with the ends of his scarf, is tinged with erotic nostalgia--half embarrassed, half warm. V has called him sweet before, but he's usually talking about the way he tastes. "But back up a minute. 'Spell on the room'? What kind of spell are we talking?"