[CLOSED TO LANCELOT]

[reticence]

What with the business with the medium and then the slight eruption of chaos in the city following the turnover within the Islington nest on Samhain, Faolan wasn't certain at first that he would get the chance to make this second attempt any time soon. But as the dust begins to settle, he realizes it's now or never, and with the holidays coming up and who knows what else might follow given the current political state of affairs, he knows he has to act now or not at all.

So it is one night that he turns to the other man, as they're packing up at work at the end of the day to go their separate ways -- Faolan hasn't quite been following Lancelot home after work as often as he might have done before the fiasco with the French restaurant, slightly self-conscious of the act now that, well. Lancelot's agreed to accept and even reciprocate his affections, for that matter. A fact that he can't quite wrap his mind around.

"Do you...have any plans this weekend?" he asks, trying (and most likely failing) to be nonchalant as he does.

Comments

[knightscode]

Lancelot squeezes Faolan's hand and swings it slightly, quirking him a sideways smile.

"Good enough," he allows, then lets go of Faolan's hand and takes a half-step closer -- reaches out to hook an arm around Faolan's waist and loop a thumb through one of his belt loops to secure himself there. "Better," Lancelot suggests a little more softly.

[reticence]

The color creeps a little deeper, a little higher on his cheeks, across his ears and down his neck, as Lancelot slips his arm around his waist and slips his thumb into his belt loop, settling there. But he's not about to shrug out of the gesture. He's just not quite sure how to react at first. Perhaps because he still can't quite wrap his mind around the fact that Lancelot wants this.

But he must. He does. He glances up at the other man for a moment, before stepping closer and leaning against him. Tentatively snaking his arm around Lancelot in turn, except the other man is wearing a backpack and he can't quite get his hand on the small of his back the way he wants to. He's too short to sling an arm across his shoulders above the bag so he moves his hand lower, to snake underneath it. But that puts his hand just below the other man's belt. And perilously close to being a little too low, for polite company at least.

Faolan's face flushes further still.

[knightscode]

He lofts an eyebrow at Faolan, amused by the slip, but carries on walking regardless and doesn't let go.

"Careful," he says in a soft aside. "I think that'll get us a little more attention than I'd like."

Public groping, that is, even if Faolan hadn't really intended it. At least, he assumes he hadn't b the way his face is slowly colouring.

[reticence]

"I..." Faolan stutters, at once mortified by his own actions and. Pleasantly surprised by Lancelot's response, to tell the truth. It isn't as though the man is telling him not to because it makes him uncomfortable or shying away from the touch. He merely comments on how it might be too much for the public eye. Which Faolan understands, considering it really wasn't what he had meant to do in the first place.

He doesn't want to pull away. He doesn't want Lancelot to pull away. He should probably move his hand before they start getting looks though. Carefully sliding his hand into the space between Lancelot's bag and his jacket from there, until his hand is pressed flat against his back and secured there underneath the weight of it. "There," he says glancing up at the other man, his face still rather red although luckily it's too dark for anyone to be able to see it much from a distance. "Sorry, I..." Didn't mean to, hadn't been able to do this until he had had his hand there in the first place, couldn't reach his shoulders over his bag... "I'm short," he explains at last.