[attr="class","icon"]

"I told you it was a bad idea to stay out that late in the cold." Starting the day off with a 'I told you so' was not a great idea, especially not with his husband. Though he couldn't quite help himself as he pressed a hand to Hazel's head. The other's skin was hot to the touch. Hazel got sick all the time, though Hugo was always terrified that one of those times would mirror the stories that Hazel told him about from his youth.
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Hugo wasn't much of a caregiver, or so he said. Despite the fact he'd been doing it most of his life with his siblings. He never thought himself particularly good at it, but Hazel inspired extra softness that wasn't present usually (even with his own kin). A part of him always felt somewhat vulnerable, but that was the point in loving someone other than yourself — there was always risk in that, right? That lack of control was part of love, wasn't it? He had never particularly loved that idea, but he loved Hazel so that was all that mattered.
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His fever, though, hadn't really eased off and that was beginning to worry him. "I wish you'd let me take you to a doctor." He understood the others aversion to doctors and hospitals. Especially after all of his youth being spent dealing with them. It still didn't make Hugo feel any better about attempting this on his own, but it didn't feel right to force him. Though, if things got worse, he didn't care how much Hazel complained they were going to the hospital.
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"Please, tell me what to do."

"No, not bad at all." Only it was, if not only because this man was dangerous in his appeal. If he'd told Hugo they needed to depart to a more private space, Hugo would have had no objections in doing so immediate. Already, he felt very much wrapped around the other man's finger, which wasn't exactly normal for him. He was an independent person, of singular and somewhat selfish mind.
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The contact, and even the lack of contact, felt electric between them. He very much cursed himself for the public setting of their dinner date and wished he'd had the foresight to plan this at a more private setting. Granted, it wasn't like he'd known that the other would spark this kind of a reaction from him. His immediate thoughts of Mr. Albrecht had been prim and proper, a little bratty. Though entirely his type to a T. However, he'd never actually anticipated that they would resonate with such electricity that he contemplated doing things that he probably shouldn't do. Hazel enjoyed pushing the boundaries, apparently, which he'd never expected.
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Hazel's warm breath on his neck made him shudder. Head tipping back then, he laughed. God, this was not what he'd been expecting. Even less so the admittance that felt more personal than it should. "Yeah." He said, hyper-focused on how the other's voice sounded under the weight of his breath. He was about to lean over and kiss him again, much like the kiss in the elevator, when they were interrupted.
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"Oh — right umm... a bottle of sauvignon blanc, please? Thank you." He felt like he was in way over his head, at this point. "Do you  uhh you do room service through the hotel right?" He looked down at Hazel feeling suddenly quite abashed. He'd just made an assumption and it could ruin everything, but he wasn't really thinking anymore (not with his head at least). Still, the waiter nodded. He waited for Hazel to tell him off for his brash assumptions.

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[attr="class","ooc"] @albrecht | m: sleepless in slateport | outfit[break]

“It isn’t? That’s a shame.” Hugo couldn’t quite help himself. Though he was still observant of the other’s condition, it couldn’t be helped. Not that he wanted the other to think that he saw him as delicate or anything. That was furthest from the truth in Hugo’s opinion. It was still hard for him to separate his personal feelings and concerns. Hazel pushed himself too far and if Hugo didn’t look out for him then who would? It was really that simple.
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For all of his teasing, the only likely end was that he was going to insist they go home and go promptly to sleep. He would insist that he was tired and old. Hazel wouldn’t believe him but would go along with it anyways (although sometimes he insisted otherwise). They weren’t prone to fights, but they were also both equally stubborn and proud.
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“I’m impatient and want instant gratification, so it would annoy me.” He said, attempting to suppress his own smile. It wasn’t exactly a lie, he was petty and impatient, but not where Hazel was concerned. He could take all the time in the world then.
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He spun them around with very little warning, dipping the other. His hand slid further down the other’s lower back. “I’m always in the mood for it.” He was being quite honest, wasn’t he?
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“I don’t know, your desperation is by far finer than mine. So…” He shrugged. He wore desperation with an edge of irritation, quickly giving in for the sake of weaker needs and his own husband’s pleasure, though he didn’t think himself easy. Hazel was by far the more rewarding of the two of them, in that regard.


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[attr="class","ooc"] @albrecht  

Strangely, @albrecht had always made him a better person (even if they were both a long-shot from good by any definition). Instead, Hazel taught him tolerance and subtlety. So, he could look at the displays and not immediately express want for them. However, at his core, he was still greedy. He was still a thief. It wasn’t a matter of competition because his museum of wares couldn’t compete, it wasn’t meant to. It was all a front for something more nefarious, which were the illegal wares that passed through it.

Even if, alternatively, he might have wished to have a museum like this, he was a poor boy dressed in fool’s gold. Sure, he wasn’t poor anymore, but his gains weren’t a product of pride and effort, but greed. “For a national museum, it’s alright, I suppose.” He glanced at his partner, before snorting at his own poor attempt to seem nonchalant.

As Hazel requested, they were headed in the direction of the Meteno exhibit. As if he could deny the other anything, especially not those scholarly interests that made the other’s eyes light up. It was sweet, of course.

“Try not to get too excited, darling.” He teased.

---

- wearing tailored suit & mask
- arriving at meteno exhibit
- express either greed or envy in some form, because hes a petty fuck

Hugo didn't know why (yes he did), but he wanted to know the other in a way he didn't already. He'd never really gone on a date where the contents of one's mind and the fabric of their soul actually mattered to him. It felt like a different matter with @albrecht though. Maybe it was down to looks, as Hazel held a specific alignment with Hugo's own tastes, but at the same time the other defied his expectations at every turn. He was neither loud nor soft in nature. He could be both coy and bold. Every time he thought he had the other figured out, he changed the direction of the dance.
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And that laugh...
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Hugo felt a little out of breath in the way he hyper-fixated on that sound. Distracted from it, only by the heat of a hand moving across his leg. It felt like he was being subdued, picked apart, and reconstructed in the most intimate of ways. "Effective? Really, Mr. Albrecht, I must question your personal tastes if that was effective for you." He teased, finding his own smile to be infectiously simple. Hugo knew he didn't smile often, not for real at least.
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His eyes remained on the wine list, though every inch of his body seemed to feel the other man shift closer. Like a line drawn between them, he desperately didn't want to cut short. So, he resisted every urge to over-respond. Even then, his eyes flitted over to briefly catch the other's eyes. Shit, was he feeling coy? God damn.
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"Oh god no, you're a rarity. No one else has been quite so lucky or deserving of my unique charms." He laughed, leaning to the side so that he could look at the other. "You're quite easy to talk to, you know?"

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[attr="class","ooc"] @albrecht | m: sleepless in slateport | outfit[break]