The chamber is dark, save for the candles here and there, but Jean-Claude does not mind. He is used to shadows and darkness -- he is a creature of the night, after all, and he does not mind the lack of light. He stands by the edge of the room, just by the window, gazing out at the moon and the stars beyond, listening to the gentle song of the ocean below, and he remembers this place. Remembers the days and the nights spent a slave, a prisoner to Belle's mercy. No, not her mercy. To her lusts.

But when he turns it is not Belle that he sees lingering by the post of the bed to greet him. He smiles to see the other man there, smiles at his posture, and his body instantly relaxes in a way that he never truly could around his Master. As much as a body can relax in such a tightly laced doublet as Jean-Claude is wearing. The fabric a deep blue, emphasizing the midnight blue of his eyes, framed in a face as pale as the moonlight itself, his dark curls loose about his shoulders. Along with breeches and stockings, Jean-Claude is wearing a short cape and loosely in one hand he clutches a feathered hat.

"I have always enjoyed the sound of the waves," he says, lingering where he is for the moment.