[Faolan's eyes fall down to the table between them and he hesitates in his answer for long enough that it probably seems to her that he isn't going to answer before at last he offers:]
I have always found him attractive. But I never thought to... I worked for his older brother. I still do, technically. And I'm his bodyguard. I just thought...
[He just thought that he'd be looking. Until Laurent suggested he noticed him looking, of course.]
[Long fingers and a slender waist, red hair tied back in a professional manner, that accented voice asking her if she needed anything else done tonight? And she'd stared and stared and promised herself it was just a passing infatuation, nothing more, until she'd found herself dreaming of him . . .
[Faolan nods at her words. No. He didn't think it would ever go anywhere. It had never gone anywhere with Laurent's brother, whom he too had admired from the sidelines, if not quite in the same way. But Laurent had been different from the start. Laurent had noticed his wandering eye, and Laurent had thought to call him out on it. Laurent had been all too aware of what there might have been between them, and Laurent had...
He swirls his coffee for a moment, because how can he respond without betraying Laurent's trust? As much as he likes Rosalind, and he does like her a great deal, the exact details are not his to share.]
It was midway through August. Something... Happened. He was frightened. It was the middle of the night, and... [He glances up at her, knowing how it sounds but forcing himself to finish the thought anyway.] He insisted that he did not want to be alone.
[Putting it like that... It sounds pretty terrible yeah, and Faolan huddles himself around his coffee again, once again attempting to crawl inside.]
...he needed me, and I was there. And the next day, yes.
[He swallows, pressing his lips together before continuing:] It was like nothing had changed. That's the message I'm getting from him, at any rate. But it's not exactly something that I can just... Forget, and I don't know...
Then I'll repeat my advice to you: you have to talk to him about it.
[She tips her head at him. There really isn't anything judgmental in her tone; it would be hypocritical for her to be. But nor is there any softness in her gaze, because he doesn't need softness right now.]
Corner him. It doesn't matter if he wants to pretend nothing happened; something did, and I promise you he hasn't forgotten it either, if only because he won't speak of it. And if at the end, you both decide it was a one-time thing, you'll at least have the confirmation and can move forward from there.
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I have always found him attractive. But I never thought to... I worked for his older brother. I still do, technically. And I'm his bodyguard. I just thought...
[He just thought that he'd be looking. Until Laurent suggested he noticed him looking, of course.]
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[Long fingers and a slender waist, red hair tied back in a professional manner, that accented voice asking her if she needed anything else done tonight? And she'd stared and stared and promised herself it was just a passing infatuation, nothing more, until she'd found herself dreaming of him . . .
Oh, yes. Does she ever know that feeling.]
What was the catalyst?
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He swirls his coffee for a moment, because how can he respond without betraying Laurent's trust? As much as he likes Rosalind, and he does like her a great deal, the exact details are not his to share.]
It was midway through August. Something... Happened. He was frightened. It was the middle of the night, and... [He glances up at her, knowing how it sounds but forcing himself to finish the thought anyway.] He insisted that he did not want to be alone.
no subject
[Her words are harsh, but her tone isn't judgmental. Rosalind sips at her tea, trying to think.]
And since then . . . nothing. Yes?
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...he needed me, and I was there. And the next day, yes.
[He swallows, pressing his lips together before continuing:] It was like nothing had changed. That's the message I'm getting from him, at any rate. But it's not exactly something that I can just... Forget, and I don't know...
no subject
[She tips her head at him. There really isn't anything judgmental in her tone; it would be hypocritical for her to be. But nor is there any softness in her gaze, because he doesn't need softness right now.]
Corner him. It doesn't matter if he wants to pretend nothing happened; something did, and I promise you he hasn't forgotten it either, if only because he won't speak of it. And if at the end, you both decide it was a one-time thing, you'll at least have the confirmation and can move forward from there.