[ Of the two of them Joe has yet to experience the full maelstrom of this place and what it can do, what it's capable of. So far, he's tried to leave twice only to wake up in the same room as before, with the water on the silver dish and the gilded crown molding. It all feels too brilliant, too specific of an era long gone by to make any sense to him, and he has been guarded since he'd first found himself here, worried that this might be some type of afterlife despite the consistent streak he'd had of immortality. There was nothing to say that he couldn't have died on that table, flesh, plasma, and more being pulled out of him like he was a rucksack doll.
It's also why he's taken to people-watching, paying attention to the crowd as they danced to the music, the lights, and the things no one else was looking at. Things like the parameters of their current venue, the number of doors, the scale of the ceiling, and the different nooks and crannies that could be taken advantage of were the room to be attacked.
He's entranced in doing that, mapping it to memory that when he hears that voice and his name on it the room tilts, and his vision holds only Nicolo, considering what truth there might be to his visage, or if he was merely a mirage.
No, that hand felt real, and the look in his bright blue eyes was pained but penetrating isn't something he'd invoke upon himself. Joe crumbles into the kiss, grappling with his body to wrap his arms around him, tentative and then binding once he's met with his sinewy solid mass. ]
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It's also why he's taken to people-watching, paying attention to the crowd as they danced to the music, the lights, and the things no one else was looking at. Things like the parameters of their current venue, the number of doors, the scale of the ceiling, and the different nooks and crannies that could be taken advantage of were the room to be attacked.
He's entranced in doing that, mapping it to memory that when he hears that voice and his name on it the room tilts, and his vision holds only Nicolo, considering what truth there might be to his visage, or if he was merely a mirage.
No, that hand felt real, and the look in his bright blue eyes was pained but penetrating isn't something he'd invoke upon himself. Joe crumbles into the kiss, grappling with his body to wrap his arms around him, tentative and then binding once he's met with his sinewy solid mass. ]