Daughter on his Doorstep (HC #2)

19: Pride Surprise Odd

"You are being more courteous to our other guests, aren't yo-"

Jerome patted Thomas on the stomach – Vincent assumed he was aiming for shoulder and could not reach – and cut him off. "Of course, of course, Mister Thomas. The girls are just about to go on stage though, and you know I have such a low opinion of anyone who keeps me from seeing their act!"

For such a short man, Jerome certainly knew how to fill a space. As Vincent stepped inside, he struggled to avoid the man and his cigar-wielding arm that wove through the air as he spoke. He misjudged one particular punctuating gesture, narrowly avoiding having his shirt set alight as the body of the cigar thumped his shoulder.

Jerome's attention switched instantly to Vincent. He took him in from boots to belt, his gaze finally coming to rest on Vincent's no doubt alarmed expression. A smile leapt into place, his lip curling.

"And who do we have here?"

The hairs on the back of Vincent's neck stood on end, and he fought the flame down from his cheeks. He wasn't sure why – something he couldn't comprehend about the man's tone or the narrowing of his eyes – but he looked to Thomas for clarity. Or perhaps support.

His gaze was not returned however, as Thomas slight smile was fixed on Jerome. He looked the picture of joviality, if it wasn't for the barest tightening around his eyes or the hand that snaked out to take Vincent gently but firmly by the elbow. He tugged him further into the dark entryway, allowing the front door to close behind them, and casting all three of them into a more pervasive darkness lit only by smouldering end of Jerome's cigar.

"This is my guest," Thomas said into the darkness, "Mister Daniel."

Vincent startled, first at the use of his first name and as he felt Jerome step closer.

"And what brings you to Pride's on a night like this, Mister Daniel."

The hand on Vincent's arm tightened slightly. He took this as an indication to answer. "The... I..." he blinked, his eyes accustomed enough to the dark night to notice the edges of the leer Jerome aimed at him. "Uh, Thomas?" It was not supposed to be a question.

Jerome's answering laugh was predictably nasal. "Oh, aren't you adorable! I mean, why ar-"

"He's my guest, Jerome." Thomas' interruption was direct, but not harsh.

"Yes, but as a new guest it's my responsibility to know if..." The man's gaze never left Vincent's face; perhaps if he'd looked to his employer, he'd have seen the anger building.

"He's my guest, Jerome!" Thomas snapped.

It was a small space, and his hard tone echoed. To soothe himself as much as the other man, Vincent's hand drifted to rest on the fingers that still gripped him by the elbow, offering silent support as best as he was able. Truth be told, Vincent could not be certain what had irritated Thomas to begin with.

For his part, Jerome didn't appear offended or put out by the interruption. He took a slow step back, his eyebrows returning to their resting place, and he cast his employer an even look.

"Yours?"

Vincent could hear the presence of an unasked question, but not the question itself. In his confusion, he looked to Thomas. Their gazes met, both serious but with very different reasons. Thomas' attention was locked on Vincent's face, earnestly searching for... something. Gradually, his eyes softened at the edges, and by the time he looked away Vincent's cheeks were aflame.

"Yes," Thomas said firmly, "Mine."

Jerome dipped his head, smile reappearing. "Would you like me to spread that tidbit?"