Lucien didn't speak, golden eyes only following the Irishman as he made his way over to his bed. His eyebrows furrowed as he spoke, but he couldn't bring himself to argue with him. Not about this, that was something that had been established long ago. He never complained when Faolan said it was time for him to go, he had promised he'd never let anything like that happen again and he had abided by it. Even if he didn't want him to leave right now, there was nothing he could to do stop him, but he still couldn't help the nervousness he felt as he asked him to make sure they would still be meeting up. He just.. didn't like leaving things like this. The Irishman's response had provided him with a bit of reassurance, but it hadn't really lasted very long. 

He had made a head start of his own, seeing no need to remain in this town any longer. He had made short stops in other towns before he had finally made his way to Green Bay. There was an anxiousness in the back of his mind that he could not ignore through his entire journey. The fact that he couldn't talk to Faolan about what happened had been bothering him this entire time, worried about Faolan possibly getting wrong idea or coming to his own conclusions.. but there was nothing he could do now except wait for him to return. 

Upon arrival, it didn't take long for Lucien to adjust. It was normal for him to adjust to new cities fairly quickly. His personality made it easy for him to find a job or places to help out. As the days went by, he had found that the longer he remained unoccupied, the more often his thoughts would trail back to Faolan. Since he had realized how he felt about him.. he found himself missing him more and more as the days went by, especially when his absence hit the three week mark. Lately Faolan had been better about coming back earlier but.. this time was different. He couldn't help but think it might have been because of what happened... and his anxiousness only grew. The fact that there was nothing he could do except wait was nerve-wracking. To keep himself occupied, Lucien began to take on double shifts, having gotten a job at a Bookstore during the day and then working at the bar at night. It was the best thing he could do to try get the Irishman off his mind. 

During one of his late night shifts, he happened to encounter another Frenchman at the bar, a fugitive from the war. After his shift was over, they had engaged in conversation, since it had been a while since he had last encountered someone who had just recently been in his homeland. His name was Marcel. His family had owned quite the large vineyard for wine, but it had been trashed by the Germans during the war. They had salvaged whatever they had and left France before things got any worse. It had been truly a shame to hear about, but Lucien had been glad to hear that no harm had come to his family. He had opened a fancy wine bar in town, and had asked him if he wanted to work there as a sommelier. Unfortunately Lucien turned him down, telling him that he wasn't knowledgeable enough for the job. This had resulted in a conversation that involved Lucien vaguely explaining his upbringing and lack of knowledge of such things. However, he was more than willing to learn. 

Marcel decided to do his best in training him for the job. This included explaining everything in regards to the productions of wine, how it was made, and some other facts about the different tastes, flavors, and the etiquette the other Frenchman had not been as familiar with. He was glad to have received this knowledge, and had ended up agreeing to take up his offer of work. Considering how long ago it had been since he had left France.. there was a nostalgia he felt about being able to talk about it again, and even get to learn more about it. They had actually become good friends during his stay, something that usually Lucien had never gotten to achieve because he and Faolan had never lingered in a town enough to do so. Faolan had always said it was much harder to move on when you made such connections.. but what could he do? By the time it had hit a one month mark, Lucien wasn't even sure of what course of action to take. Move on? Stay? They hadn't agreed on a back up destination.. and even though Faolan had always found his way back to him, no matter where he had gone, part of him didn't want to risk leaving, not this time. 

And so the Frenchman waited. The more days passed however, even with the lessons Marcel would give him, he could still feel his worry for Faolan tugging at the back of his mind. Working more no longer helped him, and it had even began to distract him at times. What if something had happened? He couldn't imagine anyone really being able to hurt the Irishman but.. what he if got himself into trouble? Or had simply decided to not return? He couldn't but begin to regret the fact that he hadn't pushed that conversation they never got to have.. to make sure of how Faolan felt about the situation.. to reassure him everything was fine. He had never imagined anything could really ruin their friendship, the trust they had built up to this point.. but maybe he had been wrong. These thoughts began to haunt him. Thinking that everything they had gone through together could go down the drain just because he decided he wanted to try a drink with him.. it was heart-wrenching. 

It was during one of the nights he had been consumed with these thoughts that Lucien returned home with a bottle of whiskey. Water of life, as Faolan had called it. The drink that flowed through his veins. It was a thought he still found to be poetic.. and despite the strong taste, it made him feel like he was closer to the Irishman who still had not returned halfway through the second month. He had found himself drinking it a little too often.. but it was during one of the harsh mornings he realized he had overdone it that he discovered his healing ability could help cleanse the effects of drunkenness. A dangerous discovery, but one that helped build up the Frenchman's tolerance to alcohol. Occasionally he and Marcel would go out to drink after his bar closed, and the other Frenchman would comment on how impressed he was with how well he had now come to hold his drink. Another random skill the Frenchman had obtained. 

Lucien's days had practically become a routine. Bookstore during the day, working with Marcel at night. His knowledge of wine had become vast, but that wasn't the only thing he did there anymore. Once Marcel learned of his talents with instruments, on occasion he would have him play the piano to set the mood. This was something he had learned long ago, when he lived with the church. He was glad to have been able to put that talent to use again. The Frenchman did not get too much sleep in between, but that was okay with him. Life on the road had gotten him accustomed to such things. If anything it felt weird to just.. settle down in a town for so long. 

The nephilim was snapped out of his thoughts as he had almost ran into someone on the streets, quickly apologizing as he made his way to the boarding house. He had just gotten off from the Bookstore, and was on the way to change his clothes and head to Marcel's. As he entered the 'lobby' for the home, the landlord called out to him. 

[b]"Lucien, someone stopped by to see you."[/b] He called out, causing the Frenchman to pause. 

[color=burlywood]"Who was it?"[/color] He asked. It wasn't common for people to really come looking for him at his home. 

[b]"Not sure, said' he was a friend of yours. Big Irish man. He might be waitin' outside your room. It's not gonna cause any problems is it?"[/b] He asked. 

At this, Lucien slightly narrowed his eyes. [color=burlywood]"No, not at all."[/color] His words left his mouth very quickly as he wasted no time in almost running past the landlord to head up to his room. Faolan was back? It had been two months since he left, and he hadn't heard anything from him all this time. As he entered the hallway he saw him there, standing next to his door, leaning against the wall. He almost froze in place, for a moment almost doubting what he was seeing.. but no, it was him. 

[color=burlywood]"Faolan.."[/color] He called out, before finally bringing himself to move. [color=burlywood]"Where... where have you [i]been[/i]? Are you okay? Did anything happen?"[/color] His words were rushed, his expression a mixture of worry and relief at finally being able to see the Irishman again.