[ Those may as well just be memories, of a (mostly, as much as can be expected) well-adjusted but modest upbringing in New York, or the vibrant autumns down in Washington. Tim feels more at home in the cooler, cozier, more sentimental seasons than he does in this summer heat, around so much bare skin and drunken revelry that he can practically feel the hellfire licking at his neck. ]
It appears that many of the gentlemen here are...discerning. [ It's not not an admission. He decided very early on that he wasn't going to hide who he was here, but with the way Armand is looking at him, eyes slow and wandering, like he's waiting for an invitation, Tim decides to play coy. His eyes on him like that make his heart race, but he can't very well fall over for every attractive man in the place, can he? At least not yet. ] What are you trying to distract me from?
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It appears that many of the gentlemen here are...discerning. [ It's not not an admission. He decided very early on that he wasn't going to hide who he was here, but with the way Armand is looking at him, eyes slow and wandering, like he's waiting for an invitation, Tim decides to play coy. His eyes on him like that make his heart race, but he can't very well fall over for every attractive man in the place, can he? At least not yet. ] What are you trying to distract me from?