Francis caught his brief glance and frowned. He uncrossed and crossed his ankles the other way. Setting Jack’s antics aside, he wasn’t sure what he himself would do at the opera house. Would it be a good place to make friends and socialize? If not, he could just pass the time by looking at the ceiling.
Jack looked out the window, chewing on the pad of his thumb for a moment. he didn't know what he was going to do if there weren't people to flirt with. Probably die of boredom.
Francis wasn’t interested in flirting with anyone, but he had been wishing to make me friend first quite some time. If he could get over the initial awkwardness of meeting someone maybe…just maybe he could connect with someone. The odds weren’t likely, especially if everyone there was arrogant and self absorbed.
Jack took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to tame it. The attempt didn't work, his golden hair just sticking up all the more.
Francis hesitantly looked back at Jack again. He grit his teeth, feeling conflicted again as he watched Jack run his hands through his hair again. He couldn’t stand the boy, but damn was his hair fine. He pressed his lips into a fine line and looked at his feet on the floor.
Jack shook his head a little bit, cocking his head to one side, then the other. He fidgeted for a moment, and didn't know what to do or say.
Francis shifted in his seat, hoping that the ride wasn’t much longer. He couldn’t stand this carriage any longer, with the tension of Jack’s previous anger outburst, and his hair. Francis still couldn’t decide if he hated him or not.
the carriage finally, finally stopped, and Jules almost leapt out. "We're here!" he announced, straightening his cravat and looking back at the carriage.
"Finally." Jack muttered, getting out and stretching.
Francis clambered out of the carriage behind Jack. He rolled his neck again, taking in a long breath of fresh air. It hadn’t been a long trip like the one yesterday morning, but it was just as taxing, if not more. Exhaling his breath, he fixed the tail of his coat and straightened his sleeve cuffs, just out of habit in case they got wrinkled. He looked up at the entrance of the opera house, “Wow…that’s impressive.”
Elizabeth got out, adjusting her skirts as she did. Her eyes widened a little as she took in the building. "Oh…that's beautiful." she said softly.
Jack nodded a little. "Yeah. It's…it's cool." he said slowly.
Jules smiled. "It isn't as grand as the Paris one, of course, but…thank you for the praise."
“It’s grander than some opera houses I’ve seen,” he chuckled faintly, clasping his hands behind his back. He couldn’t wait to get inside and see the inside of the structure. More often than not, he found the inside just as enchanting, if not more, than the outside of the structures.
(gtg to bed soon)
Jules smiled again. "Come." he beckoned with a hand, leading the way inside. The opera house was not large, but the architecture itself was lovely, especially for such a small city.
(Okedoke! Also is it alright if I make a side character who Jack could possibly flirt with?)
Francis followed Jules inside, looking around his his mouth gaped in amazement. It really was lovely, and it made him practically melt. He loved it all. The intricacies, the design and materials used for such a magnificent building.
(yeah that's totally fine!)
Jack looked around. He didn't have quite as much appreciation for it as Francis seemed to, but he still could appreciate how good it looked. He put his hands in his pockets.
(cool!)
Francis continued to marvel, unclasping his hands from behind his back to hold in front of him. “Wow…” he whispered again under his breath. When he took in all the architectural magnificence he could in the front room, his gaze fell down to the impressive outfits the other visitors wore. They were not so outlandish as ones worn at a ball or formal gathering, of course, but the lengths french people went to in order to look good were impressive.
One young man in a pale blue coat, who Francis noticed but didn’t acknowledge, stood near a wall holding a frosted glass of wine. He swirled his drink—which was all but a few swallows— in his glass, presumably waiting for a show to start. Or maybe he just liked to stand in the lobby and watch people. He made a face and reached up to scratch the edges of his wig where it met his scalp.
Jack looked over at the young man, studying him for a moment. He looked around the room again, eyes flicking to the man every now and again. He ran his hands through his golden hair.
The man looked at Jack in return, and downed the rest of his drink. He was probably around Jack and Francis’ age. Seventeen, nineteen, at the very most twenty. He looked up at the ceiling, leaning against the wall he stood by.
Francis observes him for a moment longer, and with the hope of making a new friend who seemed to enjoy the architecture as much as he did, walked up to him.
A bright smile spread across his face as Francis approached him, greeting him in French. He seemed like a very sociable man. Francis replied in less confident french, and a closed off stature: crossed ankles, and hands clasped in front of him.
Jack sighed softly, and came over with Francis. "Francis, you're never going to make friends like that." he said, looking at the Frenchman. "Parlez vous anglais?" He asked the Frenchman, giving the young man a soft smile, flashing the dimples that hid in his cheeks.
Francis’ lip twitched as Jack interrupted them. He sighed through his nose, taking a step back. He kept a polite smile, though.
The Frenchman smiled back, his eyes darting to Jack’s dimples. His smile warmed even more, the corner of his eyelids crinkling with happiness. He had a noticeable freckle right beside his left eyelid, and a few others dotted around his mouth like crumbs. “Un peu,” he pressed his thumb and forefinger together to demonstrate. “A little bit, monsieur.” He repeated with a thick accent dripping off of his words.
Jack smiled, even though the accent reminded him of his father's anger. "Oh, good. I believe my friend here wanted to speak with you." he gestured to Francis, trying not to be too rude. "Come on. This is Mr Olivier, and I'm Mr Montague. You are?"
“Monsieur Olivier, Monsieur Montague” He looked at Francis, then to Jack respectively to commit their names to memory. “Pleasure to meet you. Je m'appelle Silvestre. Alexei Silvestre.” He dipped his head.
Jack dipped his head in return. "Yes, a pleasure to meet you as well. Do you…are you an actor here? Or are you here for a show?" He asked, raising his eyebrows curiously.
Alexei shook his head, "Non, I am no actor. I only came here for the next show. I had nothing better to do," he chuckled. A bubbly, warm sort of chuckle that ket his expression light.
Francis watched with a polite expression, but he wasn't as content as he appeared.
Jack nodded. "Ah, I see." He replied with a smile. He wondered if he could flirt with this guy, earn a kiss, or even something more. He leaned closer, just a little. "Do you come here often, monsieur?" He asked.
“On occasion,” Alexei replied with a head bob. “Whenever there is a show I hear is worth seeing.” He lifted his hand to his wig again, but stopped himself when he remembered it was rude to scratch his head in front of other people. He cocked his head, trying to ignore the unbearable itch on his scalp. “And you, Monsieur?” He appeared interested in Jack despite the distraction, keeping eye contact with him. His own eyes were a very pale green, very close gray.
Sensing something that made him uncomfortable, Francis took a step back again. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Monsieur Silvestre.” He gave a little wave and walked away, scanning the room for Elizabeth and Jules.