carlyle-egerton-blog

[carlyle-egerton-blog]

“So 20 flutes like the Doric order, but look it has a base like the Ionic order and yet no volute, very un-Ionic and un-Corinthian. Suffice to say it’s one confused Greek column.” Thank the lord he went to a private school whose classics also consisted of the ins and outs of their architecture too. Otherwise he’d have no clue, as it stood they both turned out to be people with a rather variegated amount of knowledge of the Greeks. They were a masterful community of people though, and Carlyle would be the first to admit he was completely enamored with them. His literature collection was littered with Greek masterpieces.

He paused at her question, trying to work out the best way to describe his obsession with the ancients with ruining any good will he had clearly managed to build up. Atleast he was fairly certain he had, though Carlyle rarely doubted himself, he found that thee beauty before him was a little distracting to his usual mental discipline was falling apart. “To be quite honest, there’s little I don’t know. I’m a little in love with our Hellenic ancestors and it’s probably one of the few groups of people I struggle to find much fault with. Though they did have some unique habits...shows in their art. Especially with young men.”

He nodded at her request, pausing a moment, blue eyes just gazing at her with this almost piercing gaze, as if he could see right through her. It was gentle though, like an older man appraising a young apprentice. Carlyle had always had that way about him, an air of maturity brought on by huge levels of responsibility. He had always seen the world far beyond his years. “Of course, I’ll grab myself some more too...”

Carlyle disappeared into the crowd, quickly finding a waiter with a tray of drinks and taking the champagne off while requesting some more apple juice. Before he turned back, he made sure to check his breath. If they were going to talk all night (maybe a presumption on his part, but he was rather taken with..well all of her) he’d rather make sure his breath wasn’t going to ruin the moment. If there was a moment. Within a few heartbeats he was back, offering her, her drink back with a smile. “What about you? How’d you know so much about our dear column?”

Midnight in Paris

“Trying to be Grecian and only slightly succeeding. The columns are obviously supposed to be a part of the Corinthian order. It’s ten diameters high, has the acanthus leaves and the four scrolls, but look at the flutes, there are only 20. The Corinthian order has to have 24. Not that big of a deal if you don’t look too closely but still not accurate,” she prattled on, waving her hand towards the column as she spoke. She was probably the only person in the whole gala who had counted the number of flutes on the columns. And then she realized how much like a pretentious nerd she probably sounded.

When he smiled at her, Sophie found it hard not to smile back. She was also glad that the blush that had been applied to her cheeks was hiding the natural one that was starting to creep up onto her skin as he looked at her with a gaze that she couldn’t quite place. Thank goodness that her mother and Louise had left. Her palm was warm where his had been touching it as they dropped hands and absentmindedly fidgeted with the ring that she wore on her hand. 

“And what do you know about Greek art?” she asked him after laughing along with him. She was excited to have a conversation with something that she knew well with someone who hopefully knew it just as well as her. While she was a part of the world that this gala had been given for, it was like Louise had pointed out. She wasn’t a movie star or model. She was a movie star’s daughter, and a curator’s assistant. But now here was someone wanting talk to her, about something that she was well-versed in. It was a near miracle. 

“Oh yes I would love a drink, thank you. Another glass of the champagne would be nice.”

[carlyle-egerton-blog]

Sometimes Valentina showed her hand too soon, but Carlyle didn’t mind, if anything he enjoyed seeing his effect on her face to face. Like a killer savoring their kill. He followed her eyes, listened to her breath, the warm result brushing against his face. Once her lips were on his jaw though, he couldn’t stop himself leaning closer, shifting to nearly climb over the sofa back, his body half down and pressing closer to hers. He gave in and climb over, sitting beside her, trying not to allow his shiver to become visible. “Hm, I’m just following your lead.”

His hand rested on his fiancee’s leg, sliding up slowly as she spoke, his blue eyes now completely dark and filled with intentions that didn’t need talking, but beside his libido mind was still focused on hearing what she had to say. After all, they were still discussing business along with the pleasure. “I’m all ears.”

Show me || Lyle & Valya

[carlyle-egerton-blog]

“So is it really Grecian or what we want to think is Grecian?” Carlyle returned, it was like the most intelligence and gentle of ping pong matches, batting a small ball between the two of them, his blue eyes looking straight at hers without hesitation or nerves. Inside he was a little less sure, but he had long mastered the art of confidence as many of his peers had, and he knew in the end of the day no matter what she thought of him, he’d always be an Egerton and more than capable of living a very fulfilling life. He spoke in English too, not wanting to exactly be rude and ignore her obvious skill in the language though her accent still shone through. 

His hand was soft to the touch but so was her’s, and he smiled with a sort of youthful earnest that as hard not to catch as well. There was a small hesitation before let go, gazing to the other guests as they excused themselves to just leave him with the girl that he was slowly realising he truly couldn’t look away from, as if enraptured by the world’s most beautiful painting. It only hit him harder when she turned her gaze back over, and he suddenly found himself feeling like his suit was too warm. It was the only time he’d had a woman make him want to not be smug or cocky, but instead genuine and charming.  The first time he felt like he was far too young. 

After a moment, Sophie’s words finally reached his ears and he blinked, before laughing and smiling. “Then you might as be my favourite person at this party then, because Greek art is the only one I can say I know well enough.”

“Can I get you something to drink?”

Midnight in Paris

Sophie could tell that Louise was not interested in the Grecian detailing in the design of the ballroom, and the other artisan influences that were affluent in it. But she wanted to prove that she was more than the sharp cheekbones that she had inherited from her movie star mother. And to show that as much she loved the world that she had grown up in, she had no desire to be a part of it as a adult. She had to believe herself that she was meant for more than that. And thankfully the two older women let her prattle on and on until a voice broke through. 

Her eyes snapped in another direction as her mother and Louise’s did and met those of a man. A very, very cute man in a tux. “Well they are romanticized far more than they are actually studied,” Sophie countered back to him, switching from French to English to match the accent that she heard in his voice. She wouldn’t speak ill-will of the movie industry’s tendency to be so terribly inaccurate with history that it wanted to make her vomit in front of her mom. She was surprised that he had even been listening, and even more surprised that he was contributing a valid point to the one-sided conversation that she had been having.

If the look that Louise had given him hadn’t been enough to make Sophie laugh even though she had had to bite her lip to prevent from doing so, the way that he strode right past her and Estelle did make her jaw drop just slightly. He had ignored the two older woman and had went right up to her. That never happened. No one ever picked her over her mother. Sophie was now in the spotlight and she almost didn’t know what to do while in it. “Sophie Benoit,” she introduced herself as she shook his hand. 

She glanced at a look towards her mother, who elegantly dismissed herself with a kiss to her daughter’s cheek and saying, “I’ll go find your father.” Louise thankfully followed suit, but not as gracefully. And then it was just the two of them.

“I’d love to talk about the Greeks.”

[carlyle-egerton-blog]

“They do say I’m relentless.” Carlyle returned in the lift, and in the very smallest of moments, his breath audible hitched as Abernathy bent down. Of course it wasn’t his first soirée of this sort, but there was something with the way the blonde went about it that had his body shivering with surprising delight. He had almost forgotten about the levels counting down in the lift as her lips traveled further and further down, his belt about to come under assault.

If he had the power to kill an inanimate object, Carlyle would have killed the elevator, but instead he followed his prey, not needing much encouragement as Abernathy dragged him along. They spun along the hallway, half kisses and near tripping steps as he guided them towards his room, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his wireless key. As he swiped it, lips locked against hers until they were both in the darkness of his room. Light soon followed however, his sensors triggered and bathing them both in faint yellow hue. 

But that wasn’t what he was paying attention too, instead Carlyle’s eyes were firmly on her getting back down before him, leaning against the door, fingers running through her locks in silent encouragement. His blues were so dark you could barely see the colour and his expression was one so intense it was barely different from that of a lion eyeing a bloody steak. Soon the belt was on the floor and his trousers were getting undone, finally releasing the tight tension that had been pressing against them after all of Abernathy’s torments. 

“Are you going to play with me now?” He asked hoarsely, closing his eyes briefly.

Abernathy contemplated what floor he loved on, thoughts of taking Carlyle right in the elevator as he eager hands attached themselves to her frame. His kisses were rough, pressing into her skin almost burning her flesh with warmth and desire, so much she was sure each one sizzler with vigor. Laughing at his words she meet his eagerness with a level of her own, latching herself to him while their lips tangled together aggressively. “Then you’d better plan on tiring me out,” she suggested in a muffled voice between kisses. “Because I’m hard to put down….” With that, she began to lower herself, kissing down Lyle’s chest and attempting to get to her knees as the ride continued, already desperate to get to the thick of it as the ride transpired. Before she could do any damage to his belt buckle or the elevator cameras, there was a loud ding, signaling their elevator stop, leaving Abs to almost whine in protest.

Standing up as straight (as possible in her current state,) Abs trotted off the elevator, Lyle in two as she dragged him with all of her strength the wall. The rushed kisses continued you, breathing rough and audible as her lips still crashed against his. She didn’t give a damn where they were, the need to have him against her was too great for logical thought to manifest. Pure instinct ran through her veins like gasoline, fueling her to push deeper as she attempted to lower herself, this time her lips made contact with his waist, kissing his lower abdomen as her hands got to work.

[carlyle-egerton-blog]

Paris 2013

Carlyle didn’t really understand why he was here, in the Paris, the city of love. Of course officially, his father was finally rewarding his shrewd ways with some more responsibility after a pretty good run managing one of their home base tabloids back in England. But while this was certainly a promotion, it was also a rather random affair, he spoke French but that was the only thing he could find that actually explained why he was being put charge of the country’s media wing for their business. Still, he was 23, young, fresh and bold, and he’d take what he could from the challenge. He never did back down from a dare after all. That said, there was a hill to climb. No one knew him until he mentioned his last name, the french had little care for Britain's wealthy, and that would have to change if he was going to get anything done. It was for that very reason that when the French Arts Association’s Gala invited him to their event, he decided to attend despite it clearly being a pity invite more than anything. He’d prove any man who thought an Englishman couldn’t understand the French public and use the whole event for his own gain, and perhaps have some fun while he was at it. Maybe not the manic fun he had in his even younger years, but a little free living was only understandable at his age.

So baby faced and almost cute in his casual suit, Carlyle stood in a sea of foreigners, gazing around idly and exchanging small though educational talks with some of France’s elite. A few were very clearly trying to take advantage of his inexperience and maybe even groom him, but he saw right through, he’d play along a little but in the end they’d have a rude awakening and realise whose boss. But even with his resilience, as the night wore on a little, he needed a break from the new game he’d been thrust into. Cradling his glass of apple juice which helpfully looked somewhat liked brandy, he took to leaning against one of the columns in the venue, just gazing out and people watching idly. Trying to commit them to memory in case they ever met again.

 He’d unintentionally also placed himself right between a small three person group that was having a discussion, two older women and one much younger, perhaps even close to his own age. At first he said nothing, sipping and listening silently, eyes side glancing at the pleasantries and random discussion. He was fairly certain that one of them was a film star, having seen them before in a classic French film, but he found his eyes sliding more often to the younger woman. She was beautiful. There was something in her gaze that seemed to catch your attention immediately, a spark, a fierceness, the sort of rebelliousness that you’d expect in a stubborn teenager but looked alluring on a grown woman.

As she spoke about the very column he was leaning on, all three women seemed to look his way. Well it certainly was the closest one in sight, he had to give them that. Carlyle leaned off it almost sheepishly, a charming yet devilish smile on his lips when he raised a brow at them in challenge. “Depends what you mean by prominent, if you mean copied without any attempt to understand them, then you’re likely right.”

One the elder women, Louise he was sure her name was, threw him a rather scathing gaze of disapproval at his interruption of the other girl’s interruption. “And who are you exactly?”

“Carlyle.”

Blank looks greeted him. Though he seemed completely unfazed, stepping out towards the beautiful brunette and extending his hand to her instead, passing by the other women. “Egerton. Of Egerton Media Holdings. Can I steal you away for a moment to talk about the Greeks, I’ve not heard another soul mentioned them all night and I don’t want to lose the chance for a chat now.”

It was completely contrived, but he had a feeling she wanted to escape her current conversation as much as he wanted to pull her into his grasps. Metaphorically. Probably.

Midnight in Paris

Paris, 2013

The French Arts Association’s Gala was one of the biggest society events of the years. The country’s most influential artists, actors and actress, dancers, singers, producers and directors, photographers, writers, poets, journalists and of course wealthy all mingled together in their support for the arts. And since her parents fell into that catergory, every year Sophie tagged along. 

She had always enjoyed the event. She and her mother went shopping for beautiful gowns for it, there was delicious food and an overflowing amount of wine and champagne, and the people there were familiar to her. And as a deep lover of art, it was an almost perfect night for her. Especially now with her fairly recently earned degree in art history and new job at the Louvre. She felt like she belonged there. Her gorgeous gown made her feel like a watercolor painting, her slightly pinned back hair flowed in gentle waves down her back, and her mother had let her borrow some of her jewels. The ballroom noise was a mix of music, chatter, and the clinking of champagne flutes. It was shaping up to be a wonderful night. 

“Estelle!” A high-pitched voice called out and Sophie and her mother turned in unison to it’s source. 

“Louise,” Estelle Benoit greeted her friend with friend with kisses to each cheek, which Sophie copied as well. 

The two women chatted for a few minutes while Sophie politely stood to the side with her champagne. She was used to sticking to the side while her parents took the spotlight and she honestly didn’t mind it. Her eyes were admiring the design of the ballroom until the conversation was turned to her. 

“And what are you doing these days Sophie?” Louise asked her and it was a question that she didn’t mind answering.

“I’m working at the Louvre,” she said with pride in her voice, “I assist the curators and help take care of the art.”

“She graduated from Sorbonne in Art History with honors Louise, top 10% in her class,” her mother beamed.

“Well isn’t that wonderful. Félicitations Sophie. But a curator’s assistant, being behind the scenes? You’re just as lovely as your mother. You should be modeling with a face like that, or following in her footsteps. Those cheekbones were made for the silver screen.” 

That statement made Sophie scowl. She had never wanted to be an actress or a model or anything like that. She had worked hard to graduate from University with her grades and was proud of being a curator’s assistant. But Louise was just another shallow woman who didn’t see past a pretty face. 

“Louise do see the Grecian detailing in the columns. You know Greek art and architecture is still very prominent today…” Sophie started off, determined to prove that annoying woman wrong. 

@carlyle-egerton

[carlyle-egerton-blog]

@sophiexbenoit

[carlyle-egerton-blog]

It was true, Carlyle had never asked for normal. You couldn’t have their amount of money, fame and exposure and file for a number life behind closed doors. Their comfort in wealth had cost them that privilege. But as a man, he did always enjoy being surprised. In moderation anyway. Anything too far and it was a threat to the game rather than just changing the landscape of the battlefield a little. His eyes followed her to the sofa and as she spoke again, he walked over slowly, the heel of his spotlessly shined shoes echoing against the sleek floor. Her grin brought him pause, blue eyes searching her face in that moment, one of the few times he’d seen her eyes crinkle and her smile genuine. You had to savour these moments and remember that it was possible for the harder times. That and he saw it for a win. Walls knocked down slowly it seemed. Finally he laughed softly, resting his hand on the back of the sofa. “I suppose that’s true, we’ve got a detective’s nose.”

He followed her eyes without saying a thing, and leaned over the sofa, face inches from hers, hand ghosting over her cheek and down her neck, daring to touch but not quite committing yet. He wouldn’t make the first move, Carlyle preferred to entice a reaction. “Very well, you go first.”

Show me || Lyle & Valya

[carlyle-egerton-blog]

“Shall I wear contact lenses and put on a dress while I’m at it?” Carlyle mused back before laughing with a surprising amount of gusto. It was always polite however, always the gentleman in manners till the end. Public school life did that to you. Sophie wouldn’t quite understand anyway, he’d long since made sure that she was left alone and out of the private eye. It was the last favour he could do for her when they split and he still kept tabs on it from time to time. Just in case. 

“Is all we see but a dream within a dream?” He quoted with a small murmur at her admittance about wishing she was an extra. Carlyle had the opposite problem, he saw himself in the spotlight, dancing to a hidden crowd and making them clap to his tune. He knew she’d get the Poe quote, she was that type of girl.

He leaned back as she went on to business, listing off the game plan. She was never one to play it by ear when it came to painting. It was her life and passion, and you could always tell when the subject came along that particularly inspired her, as she’d get that look in her eyes. Driven and relentless. He had loved that when they first met, it had been that very gaze that had him walking across the floor to speak to her. “Well, maybe I’ll just have to hire you as my art consultant and then it wouldn’t matter if we don’t get it all done tonight.”

“I have a cheeky favour though.”

“It’s like I have told you. You just have to wear the big sunglasses and the big floppy hat. Maybe add in some sweatpants. Then no one will recognize you.” Until she had gone to boarding school, Sophie had always been at her parents sides. And that meant photographers following them everywhere they went. As a child she had been blinded by the flashes of their cameras and then had her picture spread across the magazines. But now that she had made her own life away from her parents, she was mostly left alone. Sometimes her picture would appear after she had been at a society event but she was boring compared to some of her friends. Whenever she was out with her mother and father though, the cameras were inevitable but she had learned to accept them. It was just another part of her life. 

“Something like that,” she said with a small shrug of her shoulders. if she had been a photographer, she would have taken pictures of everything so that they could be captured forever. Art was the only way that anything or anyone was truly immortal. “Sometimes I pretend everyone around me is the protagonist of their own movie and we’re all just the background extras.” That was the filmmaker’s daughter in her talking. It was a game her and her dad played sometimes when they people watched; his stories were always far better though and she never won. But everyone did have their own story, some to tell and some to keep to themselves. Sophie looked away from the other passengers and met his eyes for a moment. A flash of the Carlyle that she had known had been there just then, but it was already gone, the mask back into place. 

But she quickly looked away and pulled out her phone as he spoke. “Okay well that knocks off a few places that I was thinking of,” she mused as she quickly typed down a list of places that she believed that he would like and find what he wanted. “We’ll go to The Painted Lady first, then some of the more well known galleries that would probably have familiar artists, and then if you do not find anything there, we can go some newer ones that have some up and comers that are really spectacular.” She looked back up to his face. “No guarantee that we’ll find anything tonight but of course we’ll try.”

[carlyle-egerton-blog]

“We’ll change it to whatever works.” Carlyle returned. It came and went, his desire to marry Valentina. There was a silent truth between them that they both know they should have already atleast started to plan the event, but he never engaged when the topic was brought up, not like he should. Today he would speak to marriage and making things work, of honesty and closeness, but the next he’d be cold and hard, acting like she was just anyone on the street. The man himself knew his own flaws, but it was all part of being caught up in the game. One had to be so many things, each for a different situation, that the truth was hard to find between. “We’re not others, but who wants normality?” 

The moment Carlyle took to consider what Valentina said was enough to snatch the card back, but he didn’t mind, instead slipping past her, fingers brushing her hips before he stepped into the spacious suite. It was everything he wanted, expensive, lavish and suitable for his standing. The Romanov's never did anything half-hearted and while it was a penthouse suite, it was the next best thing. With two floors and a large amount of floor space, it’d be the equivalent of a high end flat anywhere else. He gazed about, inspecting silently before stopping at one of the walls and leaning against it, arms crossed. He had that look in his eyes, the kind that was designed to goad, teasing her with just his look. “So tell me about these re-evaluations, I’m curious...”

He reached up and undid his top button, pulling his tie loose. “I’m all ears.” 

Show me || Lyle & Valya

[carlyle-egerton-blog]

Carlyle didn’t remove his fingers even as they stood outside the door. He so very rarely held her hand like this, in the dimness of the hallway, in private. It was in some ways a calculated move, she was getting upset (though she tried to hide it) as to how things were, and as he often did, Carlyle was damage controlling so that their little ship could go on sailing. That was paramount. After all, he had no other matches that would work or that were willing, so Valentina would be the one he settled on. So he would play that doting fiance that he mocked her about last time they met if he had to. He wouldn’t lie, sometimes it felt good to just slip into another role and be romantic. “You’re likely the only one who can.”

He didn’t quite know what she was thinking behind those steely Russian eyes of hers, but he met them coolly, simply standing there with a faint smile, lacking in its usual smugness. They were going to be married, sometimes being civil was going to have to be something he was willing to do even if it was an act in parts. Or atleast he told himself it was so. “You know, if we’re to be married, honesty is everything. Or so they say.”

“So if you have a problem with what I do, just say, otherwise nothing is every going to change.” He paused for a brief second, before lifting her hand up and kissing her knuckles and then reaching into the pocket of her skirt to reach for the room card. Their bodies pressed for a brief second before he was pulling away and opening the door, gazing over his shoulders with a small smirk.

“And Valentina, we both know the only people who end up ruined are the ones I choose to.”

Show me || Lyle & Valya

[carlyle-egerton-blog]

@sophiexbenoit

[carlyle-egerton-blog]

“Could you imagine if I did ride it every day? It’d be me and half the city’s photographers. I like to consider it a public service not to.” He replied, pouting a little at her tease before falling into a laugh. How simply it would be to pretend that there was nothing to keep them away and apart.  There was a freedom with Sophie. A warm truth in the fact he knew that she’d never sell him out, that she wasn’t watching for a weakness, for a place to stick the lance. Carlyle knew her well enough that it was a certainty. After all, they broke up for the very reason that he was much more willing to thrust the sword into someone’s side than she ever was. 

Carlyle listened to her with soft eyes, and for a moment he wasn’t truly listening, instead just appreciating. She was still so beautiful. In a natural, hardly trying sort of way. Very french and Parisian, the way she handled herself and moved. Like not a care in the world could sit on her shoulders. She just moved and acted as she wanted to. She was freer than he could ever be. 

After a small pause, he finally woke back up to her words, and he smiled after a moment, leaning back into the small metro seat and crossing his long legs. “And then the truth comes out. You just like watching people, because it’s like a painting in motion right? You can capture it all in your mind. The memories of just...living.”

“Or something like that.” Carlyle added with a laugh, as if to dismiss his musings. He did that often. Say something profound and then pretend he hadn’t, try to shave off the philosopher the writer in him was and return to the rich snob that everyone expected. The mention of his fiancee made that all the more the persona he wanted to take, and he clicked his tongue when Sophie brought it up. More because it pulled apart the small facade that this was the past again.

“Something romantic style or realist, she was never one for this abstract art. She’s too Russian for that. They like their art a little more straight forward. As for artists, there are barely any she doesn’t like.”

“The key word there is sometimes. And I know for a fact that you haven’t taken any form of public transportation since you were in University.” The tease came easy from her lips and it hit Sophie how easy it had been for her to fall back into three years ago with him. They were now wedged close together in the two little metro seats and her eyes glanced over at him. It almost made her want to laugh at how they had kept such distance between them for years and now they didn’t even have a full inch. Sophie could smell his aftershave on his skin and noticed that it was different from the one that she remembered. 

“Because what do I need a car for? This gets me around the city just fine, probably faster than driving would be with the traffic, and you know I like to walk when I can. Besides, the parking around my building is terrible anyway,” she prattled off her list of reasons. Having a car would be good for the days when she had to carry supplies back and forth from work, or she had to work long hours but that was what the occasional taxi was for. “And I like it. I like…watching everybody. It’s interesting.” She liked pretending that for a little bit of time, she could be a part of the normal world. On a crowded metro car, she blended in with the masses. An ordinary girl taking the ordinary metro to get to work just like everybody else. It was a nice dream to have sometimes. 

They sat silent for a few moments before Sophie remembered the reason that they were together on their way to the 5th. “So what exactly are you looking for Valentina?” she asked him as she smoothed down her skirt. The mentioning of his fiancée only seemed to change the air around them a little bit but mentioning her was inevitable. “What sort of style or any particular artist? That way I’ll know which galleries will have more of what you want and then which we can just avoid all together.” This was all just business, it had to be. 

[carlyle-egerton-blog]

“I do remember that, I remember reading it for one, and you hitting me because I kept making fun of Sappho and the fact she was from Lesbos.” Carlyle returned without having to think about. It was always that way when it came to memories of Sophie. It wasn’t on purpose or anything of the kind, he just could remember her and all things related rather easily. Maybe his brain had assigned a special place without him asking, but it was just like they had broken up yesterday rather than three years ago.

“Sounds more complicated if you ask me, words are more memorable.” He gazed around the people nearby. Normal looking souls and a few that were more downtrodden. A couple were straight up homeless, one particular man was leaning at a pillar by the platforms, and saying nothing, he silently knelt over and placed a $100 note into his tin. The stranger didn’t even stir, too wrapped in his sad looking wrappings of a sleeping bag and torn blanket, cocooning himself from a cruel and blissfully ignorant world. Carlyle had little pity for such people, often their bindings of poverty were partly their own fault, and being the vulture of a capitalist he was, he didn’t really see their plight. But he was wealthy enough to throw a bone just for the sake of it.

Of course, he didn’t exactly enjoy being so close to people that weren’t as necessarily polished as the people he frequented around, but he hadn’t lived in a sealed room his whole life. He knew how the world worked, and he could buy new clothes or wash his hands whenever, Carlyle didn’t scare just because he was out of his habitat, he simply adapted and moved on. As the train arrived however, he did have to wince at the loud sound, before hurriedly getting to his feet and following his guide into the metal compartment. God forbid he got left behind after all. He would likely struggle to leave the turnstile.

He took the seat with little hesitation, his hand touching Sophie’s as he settled, each side by side, pinkies just touching. Carlyle didn’t act like he’d realised the fact, though his body was likely much warmer already. Her little joke drew a small chuckle and he leaned back. “I sometimes caught the tube when I was younger, it’s not that odd.”

“I just don’t understand why you travel this way, I know you could afford a proper car.”

“That’s because the Greeks are the most influential culture to date. You know I did my masters thesis on The Role of Women and Female Figures in Ancient Greek Art. It was between that and writing about how the art movements of the 19th century were a reflection of society. But when it doubt, always go with the Greeks,” Sophie told him as they stood and waited with the crowd for their train. It had always been easy to talk to him about that sort of stuff, art and history and all the things that fascinated her. He had never made her feel odd for caring about more than shoes and jewels. 

“In London yes, but here in Paris we keep it much simpler. Just numbers.” A small part of her couldn’t believe that he had actually never been down in the Metro, but then again most of her friend’s hadn’t been. Around them were tourists and locals, people on their phones with headphones in to block away the rest of world, or frantically searching over maps so they wouldn’t get lost. Sophie glanced over at Carlyle and shook her head in amusement. He was as out of place as a fish out of water and she enjoyed seeing him squirm a little.

A voice over the loud speaker announced that their train was pulling in and Sophie stepped closer to the platform as it whirled in screeching to a stop and making the loose hairs around her face blow back. “Come on,” she said to him as they followed the crowd into the train. Sophie sat down, put her handbag into her lap, and patted the seat besides her for him to sit down into. “Come on, you won’t get diseased if you sit down. And if you really need it, I have hand sanitizer in my purse.”

[carlyle-egerton-blog]

If Carlyle ever noticed her small hurt when her expressions dimmed, if he even considered such things, he never showed it. He walked through life as if nothing touched him, and perhaps that was true. After all can a man without a heart, a conscience, ever be effected by life. Each blow was towards an abyss of none of existence. Nothing to break, nothing to dent, he was a walking ice block. His blue eyes didn’t leave her’s though and he atleast gave Valentina his attention, sometimes he couldn’t even that. He wouldn’t say, but her rather aggressive display last time had caught his attention, and while it had brought up something that harrowed into a place he couldn’t quite work out, when he pushed that aside he was impressed with how she resisted being dragged into the murky world he had been shoving her towards. She didn’t fall for his tricks quite like everyone else did. “Likely to be true, but you’re not the only perfectionist around.”

He took her hand again as the lift closed, whether because he wanted to or because he was being careful of others, Carlyle wouldn’t say, but he let his fingers push between hers and raised his brow at her. “Of course.”

“You know...” He drawled as they walked to the room, silently pleased that they were atleast higher up. If she’d tried to snub him by given him a standard room, he’d show her that there could be much worse things than a single bad review. Though Carlyle was sure she wouldn’t, mainly because he had neatly gotten rid of it like he’d said he would, and now there was much more glowing article on the latest edition of Le station. 

“Despite what I might do in this room, I’m still yours.”

Show me || Lyle & Valya

[carlyle-egerton-blog]

Carlyle was playing a game, he always was, in every moment, in every breath, his mind turned and whirled with a way to get what he wanted, to have what he needed to keep going, so he could get to the next task, the next level in the small little world he created for himself. One where he had a purpose and reason, to go forward. In reality it was a child’s manifestation of what life should be, an ideal molded from reading tales of heroes defeating foes and stories progressing on a conveyor belt of opposition and plot points. It was the same here with Sophie, he was pretending to be his old self just so he could take her under his wing again, pull her into his world that she’d escaped from 3 years past. That said, he never thought he’d be succeeding so well. Her blush, the way her eyes slid over to his had him laughing softly. His real life was nothing like the one he wore for others. Rather than firm and obvious, often with a lick of too much confidence, the real one was much more subdued, a faint almost melancholy tune, almost trying to hide itself more than anything. “Sorry, you’re too easy to tease sometimes. But yes, sounds like a deal.”

“Wait, I don’t have a crown?” He reached up and patted his head with a confused expression, before turning to Sophie in mock seriousness. It looked rather comical for a such seriously dressed man (though he was less suited up than usual) to be putting a childlike show. “Someone must have stole it! Drat, I know I should have kept it close.”

He followed her down the stairs, shoulders brushing as they stood side by side. As time had passed between them the wall was crumbling a little and they were falling into old habits all over again. He blinked at her little joking name, pulling a small face that was more amused than anything. “Orpheus really? Am I going to find my wife down there then? Also rather on point with the whole, dying because no one could hear his music thing.”

“You always were too good with the Greeks.” It had and still was Carlyle’s favourite subject matter. If he’d every actually applied himself at school, English and the Classics would have been his best subjects by far. His library at home was built on massive tombs of Greek literature, and there was nary a myth nor poem he didn’t know inside out. But nerdy Greek knowledge wasn’t exactly sexy, for partners or for the press, so he rarely ever talked about it.

He looked like someone from another time period funnily enough when Sophie swiped her cards, Carlyle standing stiff like a piece of cardboard when trying to work out if he should go through the turnstile or not. “Line 7? Aren’t they meant to be real names. Like Victoria or Piccadilly.” 

“Oh..right,” Sophie said as slight embarrassment made her cheeks flush a bit. The smile and the wink that he gave her made her flash back to three years ago and she hated how her cheeks were betraying her. She could never hide her emotions well, which is why she had never been destined to follow in her mother’s footsteps. “Well let’s see how tonight goes. It can be a lengthy process sometimes.” 

She wanted to laugh while he considered the metro. The squirming was subtle but it was there. That was often how it went when the people that she knew thought about riding underground amongst the commoners, as if it was beneath them. “Perhaps only if you were wearing a golden crown,” she teased, a small smirk finding its way onto her lips, “But come on. The nearest station is down the block.”

Sophie had him follow her into the station and she turned back to him at the top of the stairs. “Come on Orpheus,” she joked before going down the stairs. For people like them, going down into the metro might as well have been going down into the Underworld. She made her way over to the ticket machine and swiped her card for both him and herself. She went first through the turnstile and chuckled to herself as he followed through. “We have to Line 7 to get over to the 5th,” she told him, “It should be here in a few minutes.”

[carlyle-egerton-blog]

“If you say so.” Carlyle replied, letting her have the win, of course, he thought she was being just as judgement and entitled herself, but the media man was savvy enough to play the game and charm his way along wit her rather than fight. That was only reserved for those he needed to kick down and teach their place. It wasn’t so with Mariana yet. Her display of french neither surprised nor impressed him, and he simply clasped his hands together and laughed softly. “We’re in Paris,  I would assume you do speak french, I was simply adding a little english emphasis, pardon me, I speak more like a book than a person sometimes.”

Perhaps because that’s where he gleaned what it meant to be a person. Within the pages of novels and fantasy, because his father, his mother and his nanny hadn’t exactly given him a decent guide to follow by. Not that he was bitter about it, he found teaching himself had been much more beneficial than anything they could have likely bestowed. He had nearly returned Marianna’s platitudes when he finally recognised him and he let out a small chuckle, nodding his head slowly. Like a child caught in a prank. “Yes, the very same, though my father is the real mogul, I’m just his little minion.”

“I sell people, I sell shows and parties, dancers and singers, celebrities and even normal people. If you do this for me, I rise you up, people take interest and I sell more papers. It’s really not that hard. It’s an investment, I’m fond of those.” Carlyle replied, actually honest for once. Of course the price would change over time, but that was neither here nor there, as of this moment, this was a free offering that would have strings placed on it later down the line. The best way to hunt an animal is to make it feel safe and then trick it with more bait. “So what do you say?”

“I’m already planning too, I’m sure she’ll love it.”

Dance Puppets! || Lyle and Mariana

“No, you definitely came in here acting like an entitled prick,” she said definitively. There was no other way to describe what he’d done, right down to when he’d suggested his little test. she wasn’t afraid of letting him know that. If she had been afraid to speak her mind, she’d never have gotten where she was today. “Pour mémoire , je ne parle français aussi. Je ne suis pas besoin d'une traduction.” For the record I do speak French too. I don’t need a translation. “Maybe the fact that we all have one foot in the grave should be a reason you start behaving better. At least around people you don’t know.”

“Carlyle Egerton.” It was almost funny. Even his name sounded like it came from money. “Well Lyle, it has been…interesting…meeting you,” she allowed. Her head tilted a bit as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. It was only upon taking it and reading it that she fully realized who she’d been dealing with, not that it changed much.

“Oh. So you’re the media mogul I’ve heard about.” She hadn’t heard much, just that he existed. She’d seen his name in papers and magazines. She’d read about him and his fiancée where were supposed to be the “it” couple, though knowing him now, she found that surprising. She knew better than to bring it up. Personal life was personal. “And If I did ask you for that favor, what would be in it for you?” She wasn’t even sure she was ready to try and make it big. It was a huge commitment and her more simple life would be gone afterwards, that much was sure. It was a huge decision to make. “Bring her to the show then. If you think that was impressive, you should see it once it’s been polished to a shine.”

[carlyle-egerton-blog]

“Stella you always did let things get in a bit too quick, even I knew that after the first time we met. I’m just prodding, not need to act like I’m going in for a stab.” Carlyle drawled, leaning against his frames in an almost childish manner, the smile on his lips that kind a cat would wear as it approached it’s milk bowl. He too no offense at being considered a simple distraction or mistake, after all, she had been nothing but a thing between the sheets for a night. That was a very long list, with many faces he didn’t even remember. She was only different because of her father.

He listened to her idea with a small smirk, raising a brow and letting it fall as he idly seemed to properly consider what she’s saying, leaning back, fingers, pristine and soft, tapping against his door. After a palatable silence (he did it on purpose, he didn’t have to think on it that hard), he turned back to her, shrugging idly. “Fine by me, that said...”

“A cordial neighbour wouldn’t reject and offer to come in for tea, would she? So how about we get to know each other. Like neighbours do.” He smiled a little too happily as he said it, because in the end it was simply going full circle to the original request he made that she’d tried to wiggle out of.

“None of your business, that’s who,” Stella retorted, obviously annoyed. “You and I hooked up when I was twenty, before I got serious about that kinda stuff,” she said, not exactly going into detail about what ��serious’ meant - falling in love, getting engaged, almost getting married. Why would she do that, just so that Carlyle could pretend that he knew all about her and Sam’s relationship and rub it in her face?  “Russian, I see. Must be a lovely lady,” she replied civilly. Deciding that being mature about the situation would be best for them both, Stella inhaled before calmly speaking. “Arguing will not get us anywhere, so I have a proposal. How about we start over, put the summer of 2012 behind us? Pretend it never happened, live as cordial neighbors,” she proposed. It’d be better for them both if they did not have to argue like this every time.