Ian nodded, taking in the boys profile as he described his older brother. Spencer's hair was like a bronzed gold, long, not too long, at that pleasent length Ian adored on men. His eyes were the deep gray of a stormy sky, and his skin...
Ian looked away. Impolite to stare, he thought. If he stared to long, he'd get hungry and if he got hungry he'd seduce the poor boy and that was the height of impoliteness.
Spencer had finished talking, and was busy scribbling, a faint blush coming over his cheeks.
Aha. I knew it.
Ian smiled to himself, and touched Spencer's arm, just very slightly. The boy jumped a tiny bit.
"You seem tense. Would you..." Ian paused here, knowing this would have to be handled delicately. "Would you accompany me to the pub? It's right over there." here he pointed at The Lion's Head, just across the street.
"I uh....I should go get my brother." Ian marveled at how Spencer's voice, that accent, seemed to deepen with his nervousness. "He's going to flip if he can't find me soon. And I would prefer not to have to fight with him." Spencer stood, as did Ian, and they faced eachother.
Light and dark.
"Nice to meet you, Spencer. Enjoy your trip to London, and I sincerely hope you get into that school. Such a talent should not be wasted." He managed to refrain from kissing the boys hand, but only just. Spencer stammered out something similar, and raced off, undoubtedly to find his poet brother.
Ian walked the opposite way, humming quietly to himself until he reached a darkened alley, occupied by one very impatient werewolf.
"You didn't have to wait."
The pair glared at eachother, as opposite as a pair could be that looked so much alike. Erich's coffee brown hair flowed down his back, and he wore lenseless glasses. His clothing was not straight out of Vogue, like Ian's but was instead frayed, ripped, dirty.
In short, a hippie and a gentleman stared at eachother.
Ian casually tapped out a clove cigarette from his pack, lighting it with his zippo. "Brother," he started, "I do not know why you continue to follow me as if a lost puppy dog. It is most unbecoming, but then again, you are just a pup."
Erich growled, used to this sort of remark. "Bloodsucker."
Ian exhaled a cloud of fragrant smoke, leaning against the wall. "What did you see?"
"You mooning over some poor bastard."
"Remarkably acute, aren't you."
"Worry no more about the human. He's of no concern."
Erich rolled his eyes. He'd heard this before too. "Like the one before him? And the one before that? Come to think of it he looks-"
His speech was cut short by Ian grasping him by the throat and very calmly slamming him into the opposite wall.
"I wouldn't discuss that anymore, if I were you, or I might have to disembowel my very own brother. And I do hate to get entrails on my suit." He released Erich, and very calmly walked back down the street, clouds of clove smoke following him.
Erich groaned and trotted after him.
TO BE CONT