Faolan had stood in the back of the room, watching Lucien play the piano in total silence and stillness. He didn't want to breathe, or move, for fear of tipping the Nephilim off that he was here.

He had come here tonight with the intention of...well, he didn't know what he had intended. But as soon as he had stepped into the bar and seen Lucien bent over the keys, heard the music he was playing, all of the steam had exited his body. He felt as though he were falling down a deep dark hole with no bottom, that the music could reach him in the center of the earth but nothing else could. He watched every movement of Lucien's shoulders, his head as he bowed it, his eyelashes that fluttered...he felt something inside of him break. It wasn't his heart, no...he had tried as he might to break that himself and found it impossible. It felt like...freedom.

He didn't even notice when a man approached him, which was very unlike Faolan. The man whispered, so as not to distract the guests, [b]"Ah, 
monsieur,"[/b] he said in a thick French accent, [b]"Is there something I can help you with? A table, perhaps?"[/b] he asked, smiling.

Faolan looked down at him, dark hair and a mustache with a well-trimmed beard. He was older, probably in his 40s, entirely human, with inviting eyes and a welcoming smile. This has to be Marcel.

[color=a36209]"Ehm...no,"[/color] Faolan began, glancing back up at Lucien as he felt the music coming to an end, [color=a36209]"I...I'm in the wrong place."[/color]

Marcel, presumably, looked quite dejected at this, but understanding. [b]"Ah, well, if you decide to be in the mood for some Chopin and some wine, you come back to Rouge ou Blanc. We take care of you here aah..."[/b] There was a slight pause, [b]"Forgive me, monsieur, but are you alright?"[/b]

Faolan looked back down at him as the last key was struck, sensing genuine concern in the man's eyes. [color=a36209]"Oh, yes, fine...I'm fine."[/color] he turned to go, shielding himself from the view of the dining room around the corner, then turned once more and added, [color=a36209]"Your musician...he's wonderful."[/color]

Marcel nodded at this, the concern disappearing from his face, [b]"Oh yes, this Lucien...he is-"[/b] he struggled for a moment to find the word, [b]"magnifique. Come back, he will play something...not so sad next time."[/b]

Faolan paused again as he heard the crowd erupt into applause at Lucien's performance. His mouth twitched at the corners in to a very short-lived, but genuine smile. [color=a36209]"I hope so."[/color] At this, he turned and left.

He had gone back to the house much slower than he had made his way to the bar, wandering a bit through the streets. He kept his hands in his pockets, and mostly looked at his feet. Every now and again he would look up when he heard a noise or sensed people near him. He stopped at a park and saw two young lovers holding hands, giggling quietly and disappearing into nearby bushes. He heard babies crying and their mother's coos through windows, saw men returning from work looking glum, saw women standing on street corners propositioning. None of this would mean anything to him if it weren't for Lucien. He saw the meaning in things now, felt the thrum and hum of the earth beneath his feet. Before he was just wandering the earth, searching for nothing. He was so unaware that he didn't even realize that he had found what he had need all along...he couldn't abide this, not any more.

The breakage he had felt before were the bands he had wound so tightly around his heart. They had kept him safe until now, comforted in his lack of care for anything or anyone other than himself. Lucien had broken them, and now Faolan was free.

He found his way back to the house, back to their room. He sat on the bed and quietly waited for Lucien to return.

When he smelled Lucien's scent enter the building, heard his footsteps, his heart began to race again. This time it was not from anger or fear, but from excitement. He had so much to say, he just had to say it right this time.

When Lucien entered, he looked up at him, slowly, and felt as though he were seeing the man for the first time. He did not smile, he couldn't yet, knowing all of the pain he had put Lucien through. He held it at bay, and instead he stood as Lucien entered the room and closed the door.

[color=a36209]"Lucien...I'm glad,"[/color] there was a pause, his words hung in the air like heavy stones about to fall. [color=a36209]"And...I'm sorry."[/color] These words came from him like a sigh of relief, even though his body was humming like an engine, it was something he had been holding inside for so long...it was as if he had finally laid down his pack and taken off his boots. He was coming home.