Lucien opened the door all the way for Blaise, who slipped in without a word.
He noticed Blaise hadn't changed out of his night clothes yet, which were really not proper pajamas, but just a long robe with a pretty geometric pattern thrown over his thin undergarments. He must have overslept.
Blaise stepped in, his bare feet making almost no sound on the rug. He paced back and forth for a few minutes, fiddling with his hands. Finally, he asked, "Are you mad at me?"
Lucien crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. "What does it matter how I feel?"
"You are mad. Lucien, I think you misunderstood me. When I asked if it mattered to you... or when I asked why you slept with me if you didn't do one-night stands... I meant something different."
Lucien looked at Blaise. He looked small and nervous now, his eyes full of trepidation. It was not usual to see him like this. "Well, what did you mean, then?" he asked, more gently.
