There was no way in hell Daryl was inviting Jean-Claude over to his place. But Richmond was Daybreak territory. And as long as there was no fighting going on, the vampire wouldn't be hunted down if anyone sensed him there.
"There's a pub. The Duchess. On the Thames, right at the north side of the Richmond Bridge," he said after some thought. It was very close to his flat, but Jean-Claude didn't need to know that. And it was public so the other man wouldn't be able to pull any shit. Hopefully. "We can meet there after dark if you want."
Jean-Claude is continuously charmed by the notion that he only be seen in the darker hours, but he's not going to correct Daryl and point out his daylight jewelry. He would be a fool, and while he enjoys the man's company, he doesn't trust so much that, if things went sour, he wouldn't use the information against him.
"The Duchess," he repeats. "After dark, then. It's a date, mon ami. I will see you there." And he hangs up the phone before Daryl has room to protest one way or the other.
He does wait until after dark to make his way to the place. Dressed in his usual leather pants, frilly white shirt, and black frock coat to pretend that he is keeping out the chill -- vampires don't really care about the cold, at least not when they have been dead for as long as Jean-Claude has himself -- he looks rather out of place here. But that does not matter to him. It will make him easy to spot, if Daryl is already there. And if he is not, he will find himself a place at the bar to wait.
"It ain't a-" Silence. That fucker. "It ain't a date," he muttered to himself just to feel a little better.
It wasn't a date. It wasn't. Daryl dressing nicer than he usually chose to was just because the atmosphere of The Duchess asked for it. Being a classy place where people could get dinner and a drink right on the river and all.
He still wore his vest, of course, but it was worn over a black jacket and a blue and black flannel he'd even tucked in to the very clean dark blue jeans. Jeans which, amazingly enough, had no holes in the. Weren't even worn out. And his boots looked like they'd had a wash cloth taken to them to get the dirt off. Hell, even his hair had been pretty freshly washed and was quite fluffy when newly dried out. He did show up on his bike, however. He wasn't going to walk and make it obvious he lived close enough to do that.
They hadn't set an exact time to meet, but he tried to show up at a decent time. Jean-Claude standing near the bar, close to the entrance, made him easy to find. Did he ever change his clothes? Wasn't that the exact same thing he'd worn the first time they met? Daryl was certain it was the same pair of pants. Hard to forget how they hugged his thighs the way they did.
Daryl sucked in a breath and focused on keeping his eyes at... well, shoulder level at least. He moved over to catch the man's attention, "You ask for a table yet or we need to get one?"
Jean-Claude does have other outfits, but he likes this one the best. It's much the same as Daryl's vest, if one were to analyze the pair of them together. They're comfort for him, and they serve their purposes well. Jean-Claude's purpose of course to draw attention to his assets, as one might call them. And assets they certainly are. His legs and his butt have always looked amazing, in skin-tight clothing such as these. Daryl will simply have to run into him on a theme night at the club or perhaps at a costumed celebration with a dress code elsewhere if he'd like to see him changed.
Not that Jean-Claude does not appreciate the change in the other man himself. A smile spreads itself across his face as he takes a moment to look him over properly, his deep blue eyes sparkling at him as he makes his way back up to meet his gaze. "You are a vision tonight, mon chat," Jean-Claude says in greeting, and then continues, before Daryl can protest further (again). "I have informed our host that I am waiting for a guest, yes. Shall we let them know that we are ready to take our seats?" He gestures to the hostess beyond. He had had to do a little dance, to make certain there would be a table for them in the busy establishment, but Jean-Claude is old-fashioned, and he would hardly have cared to be caught so off-guard otherwise.
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"There's a pub. The Duchess. On the Thames, right at the north side of the Richmond Bridge," he said after some thought. It was very close to his flat, but Jean-Claude didn't need to know that. And it was public so the other man wouldn't be able to pull any shit. Hopefully. "We can meet there after dark if you want."
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"The Duchess," he repeats. "After dark, then. It's a date, mon ami. I will see you there." And he hangs up the phone before Daryl has room to protest one way or the other.
He does wait until after dark to make his way to the place. Dressed in his usual leather pants, frilly white shirt, and black frock coat to pretend that he is keeping out the chill -- vampires don't really care about the cold, at least not when they have been dead for as long as Jean-Claude has himself -- he looks rather out of place here. But that does not matter to him. It will make him easy to spot, if Daryl is already there. And if he is not, he will find himself a place at the bar to wait.
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It wasn't a date. It wasn't. Daryl dressing nicer than he usually chose to was just because the atmosphere of The Duchess asked for it. Being a classy place where people could get dinner and a drink right on the river and all.
He still wore his vest, of course, but it was worn over a black jacket and a blue and black flannel he'd even tucked in to the very clean dark blue jeans. Jeans which, amazingly enough, had no holes in the. Weren't even worn out. And his boots looked like they'd had a wash cloth taken to them to get the dirt off. Hell, even his hair had been pretty freshly washed and was quite fluffy when newly dried out. He did show up on his bike, however. He wasn't going to walk and make it obvious he lived close enough to do that.
They hadn't set an exact time to meet, but he tried to show up at a decent time. Jean-Claude standing near the bar, close to the entrance, made him easy to find. Did he ever change his clothes? Wasn't that the exact same thing he'd worn the first time they met? Daryl was certain it was the same pair of pants. Hard to forget how they hugged his thighs the way they did.
Daryl sucked in a breath and focused on keeping his eyes at... well, shoulder level at least. He moved over to catch the man's attention, "You ask for a table yet or we need to get one?"
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Not that Jean-Claude does not appreciate the change in the other man himself. A smile spreads itself across his face as he takes a moment to look him over properly, his deep blue eyes sparkling at him as he makes his way back up to meet his gaze. "You are a vision tonight, mon chat," Jean-Claude says in greeting, and then continues, before Daryl can protest further (again). "I have informed our host that I am waiting for a guest, yes. Shall we let them know that we are ready to take our seats?" He gestures to the hostess beyond. He had had to do a little dance, to make certain there would be a table for them in the busy establishment, but Jean-Claude is old-fashioned, and he would hardly have cared to be caught so off-guard otherwise.