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Post by arthur on Jan 24, 2012 16:10:15 GMT -5
Arthur strolled into the private room with an irritated look on his face. His hands were in his pockets and he shifted a bit in the too small shirt. "Before you ask," he directed his words to the blonde Frenchman across the room. "yes, I did it again. I stopped and bought a shirt at Harrods in London and it didn't fit, but I wore it anyway because most of my nice shirts have been ruined. Feel free to insert your gloating here." His scowl deepened and he paused, just a few feet away.
"Go on. Gloat about your superior workmanship and art form or whatever it is that you comment on whenever I do this."
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Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Jan 24, 2012 16:22:59 GMT -5
"When you encourage me so nicely, I shall then. You have absolutely no idea to shop. the fact that you bought a shirt too small for your frame is bad enough. It's not even that nice a shirt that you should even want to fit in to." Francis shook his head. One hand on his hip while the other was twiddling the measuring tape.
"It's like you want to prove how right I am that you need a new fitting every six months." He gave a long sigh. "Well come here, so I can get down to business."
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Post by arthur on Jan 24, 2012 16:28:36 GMT -5
"Oh, do shut up." Arthur snapped, moving over to Francis and turning around. "Just start measuring already and do the job I pay you outrageous amounts of money to do." He glowered at himself in the mirror across from him.
He scowled and dropped his arm and the coat he was holding.
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Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Jan 24, 2012 20:03:45 GMT -5
Francis rolled his eyes in turn. "Well, in that case take of your shirt. You don't pay me enough to be annoyed at fabric that isn't even my own."
Francis crossed his arms over his chest, simply to further the point that he wouldn't work unless Arthur complied to his demands. "Vite, vite, if you want me to get out of your nest of hair."
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Post by arthur on Jan 25, 2012 0:37:33 GMT -5
Arthur's scowl turned slightly nervous. "You've never needed my shirt off before." He pointed out, glancing over his shoulder at Francis. "We've always done this fully dressed." He swallowed, not willing to let slip the reason why he didn't want his shirt off.
The blasted scar given to him by three cruel brothers not so many years ago.
"How do I know this isn't one of your bloody schemes?"
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Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Jan 26, 2012 16:11:09 GMT -5
The Frenchman huffed. "Why? No matter the reason your English brain would just translate it to 'because Francis is a french bastard'. Now take off that shirt, it's an eyesore."
He rolled his hand in the air, trying to get the wheels of time to move more quickly.
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Post by arthur on Jan 26, 2012 21:25:33 GMT -5
Arthur turned to the side, making sure that his back was facing away from both the mirror and from Francis. He slowly started unbuttoning it, glancing over at the Frenchman warily. ". . . . Very well then." He shifted out of the shirt, dumping it to the side, onto the well-polished floor. "The eyesore is gone, are you quite happy now?"
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Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Jan 26, 2012 21:54:34 GMT -5
"As happy as I can ever be trying to work with you." Francis replied more tired than annoyed now. The Frenchman thought that the Englishman was more agitated than usual. But if Kirkland wanted to be snappy, so would he.
"Well come here then," Francis pulled the tape to full length. His eyes changed as he decided to just focus on the task at hand.
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Post by arthur on Jan 26, 2012 21:58:30 GMT -5
Arthur fidgeted for a moment more, trying to carefully move over to Francis so that he wouldn't see his back. He nervously planted himself closer to him, eyes focusing on the white wall and trying to ignore everything around him.
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Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Jan 26, 2012 22:07:04 GMT -5
". . . Vraiment?" Was the Frenchman's first thought when suddenly Arthur decided to destroy any concept of personal space, and he just couldn't not say it at this point.
"You know I think there's this Katy Perry song that may suit you. We should have ground rules like, explaining our intentions. This is arguing, this is annoying each other and this is flirting through physical contact."
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Post by arthur on Jan 26, 2012 22:14:12 GMT -5
"Shut up and get to work. I don't pay you to mock me." Arthur was vaguely red, but being close to the Frog was better than having him pay attention to forbidden things. He shut his eyes, a scowl firmly in place. "Also; that woman doesn't make songs, she makes noise."
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Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Jan 26, 2012 22:31:22 GMT -5
Not caring to defend Miss Perry, Francis placed his hand Arthur's shoulder's, always a bit surprised with how sturdy they were. "Non, you don't so, if you'll excuse me I shall be getting to work," and then he moved to take a step back.
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Post by arthur on Jan 26, 2012 22:48:25 GMT -5
Arthur's eyes remained fixed on the wall, trying to ignore Francis. "Get on with it." He ordered gruffly, jaw tensing.
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Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Jan 26, 2012 23:10:52 GMT -5
Francis eyes fell upon the scars. His lips parted slightly, he had enough restraint not to look or sound shock. This is what has got him so agitated, he didn't want Francis to see these scars. So obviously they are very personal.
He sighed as he got to work. Measuring his left arm first.
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Post by arthur on Jan 26, 2012 23:17:28 GMT -5
Arthur chewed on his lower lip, taking in steady breaths. His eyes remained locked on a spot on the wall, trying to swallow the burning nervousness in his throat. ". . . Nearly done there?" He asked after a second, despite knowing that he wasn't.
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