Coiled (Book 1 of 2)

Dinner

When Evan Rosier reaches the dining room he's met with the sound of voices he knows all too well.

Polite, posh, stilted voices engaged in the typical superficial conversation.

Though exactly as expected, the moment he steps forward and into the room all of these voices instantly quiet, every pair of eyes turning to him.

Well, nearly every pair, that is.

It takes all of an instant for him to notice the way Henry's clearly removed himself from the rest of the group. Not physically of course but rather in spirit. Back firmly pressed against his chair, he's the only person who doesn't look up as Evan walks in. Instead, he seems completely intent on studying his once more newly emptied wine glass. He's now three glasses in and any personal promises he made to himself about holding back when it comes to Evan are already beginning to crumble.

Having brought the wine glass to rest quite precariously at the very edge of the table, Mulciber keeps both his eyes fixed downwards as he slowly twirls it around by the stem with his thumb and pointer finger.

"Evan -"

That'd be Reggie, of course. The quickest to offer up a greeting, rising up out of his seat as soon as Evan begins his approach. And whatever anyone else does in the next several seconds, Evan has absolutely no idea about any of it. And that's because his eyes are locked rather shamelessly on Reggie's as he smiles back and nears.

It's becoming so that neither of them are able to hide their feelings for one another anymore, especially not in the prolonged presence of such an intimate, highly observant group. And though both of them are somewhat aware of this, it's largely unconscious. For better or worse, they really just can't help themselves.

Life under a microscope.

Bit maddening, really.

But as long as you're here, it's bearable.

Upon reaching the table, Evan comes to a stop just before Reggie. Then, with great effort he finally tears his eyes away long enough to give everyone else a perfunctory nod, "Good evening."

Eyes right back to Reggie, the two of them smiling softly at one another in a silent gesture designed to fortify themselves for whatever's in store. And with that, Evan takes his place at the last available seat, the head of the table opposite to Mulciber with Reggie on his left and Amycus on his right.

Crossing one leg over the other, Alecto gives him a polite, neutral nod as she brings her wine glass upwards for a small sip, "Good evening, Evan. You're looking well."

Aside from the fact that he's practically glowing as a result of Reggie's proximity, he's well put together with minimal effort; light blue cotton trousers and a simple tan coloured shirt.

"Thank you, Alecto. You as well."

Having remained silent this entire time, when he sees the way that Reggie now leans forward in his seat and brings one hand over to give Evan's wrist a light tap, all of Henry's restraint goes right out the window. Inhaling sharply, he shoots forward in his chair, face fixing into a severely disapproving frown, "Late, Rosier. You're late."

He clips the four words out bitterly, lifting and tapping the base of his glass performatively against the tabletop as he enunciates each word.

But rather than give Henry the attention he so desperately seeks, Evan instead just sighs and turns his attention right back to Reggie, who's been so bold as to leave his fingers to linger against the fabric of Evan's sleeve for all to see.

Content with pretending as though they're the only two people in the room, Evan smiles easily, "Reg?"

"Wondering if perhaps you'd like something to drink, Evan?"