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[closed, for alex]
It's been a solid couple of weeks since the beach party, so when Wren runs into Alex as the charity gala winds down, it doesn't feel too over the top to remind him he's still invited over for trading music and stories.
"This weekend, maybe," he says, and gave him an innocent look over his glass, "--unless you also have a quarter million you're planning on dropping on a date with someone, in which case I'd completely understand being occupied."
Now, he's just hanging out, lazily layering loops of guitar and synth into a background wash of music, watching Inari growl at shadows in the corner. Maybe he'll open up some wine later. Depends on what happens; he's not too worried about it.
"This weekend, maybe," he says, and gave him an innocent look over his glass, "--unless you also have a quarter million you're planning on dropping on a date with someone, in which case I'd completely understand being occupied."
Now, he's just hanging out, lazily layering loops of guitar and synth into a background wash of music, watching Inari growl at shadows in the corner. Maybe he'll open up some wine later. Depends on what happens; he's not too worried about it.
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As he came back to himself, he cleared his throat and made a mental note to definitely talk to Lara. Wren was amazingly good but there was something else there. Something only another siren would notice. But he wasn't going to say anything about it now. He would hate to ruin the mood.
"It was sad but it was beautiful too. And not just the song but the way you played it. Thank you." He took a sip of his own wine before he spoke again. "I will definitely do some research for you. Maybe even where the variations come from. It would be my pleasure."
He contemplated for a moment, looking down into his wine as he couldn't quite meet Wren's eyes at the moment. Something was happening with his emotions and he couldn't quite figure out what. "I'd say I'd want to know. When my oldest brother was killed, my family made sure to get word to me before I could hear about it in the media. I can't imagine what it would have been like hearing about it from someone else or just not knowing."
no subject
"It's my pleasure," Wren says, genuinely, "I'm glad to do it justice." He runs a hand over the dulcimer's strings for a moment and stands to put it away, glancing over his shoulder toward Alex. "I'd be grateful, if it's not a bother," he says at the offer of research. "I've never known much about it, but I've loved it since I was a child."
He comes back to sit, watching Alex look into his wine. Wren almost never breaks eye contact completely; he's not sure if he learned the habit or never learned not to, but he's always watching, soaking in the little details that make up other people and places. So it's a little more evident when other people do.
Wren watches Alex quietly as he talks about his brother. He hadn't meant to touch something personal, but he won't back away from being trusted. "I'm glad they were the ones to tell you," he says. "If it had to happen." He feels an impulse to be nearer, not just sitting formally, and moves to perch on the arm of Alex's chair.
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Alex was an active listener usually. He didn't so much keep eye contact but he kept his gaze on the speaker and watched for the story their expression and body told as much as the words he was listening too. And he had been actively watching Wren since with all of his attention. Perhaps that was why he suddenly felt overwhelmed and he had needed to concentrate on something else for a moment.
Talking about Henry was much easier then it used to be. The older three brothers, Henry, Will and Alex, had all been rather close. He didn't know why, he loved Phil and Ed just the same, but it was different. But eventually, Alex had realized that not talking about Henry was doing the memory of his brother a disservice so he refused to shy away from the topic any longer.
He looked up when Wren sat on the arm of his chair and, surprisingly to himself, leaned closer. Not quite touching, but definitely taking comfort from the closeness. "Me too. But that's why I think I prefer the version where the mother knows what happened. Personal experience."
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Wren smiles. "Well, here, actually. Way back. The Sauvageons are spread all over the east coast and up into the Canadian maritimes, these days, and we don't settle well, so I'm sure I've got a thousand second cousins I've never met. But that side of the family claims roots in Siren Cove from back when this place was a trading port. Before that, France, and the UK, I think. Our family seems to collect sea stories, though, the more fantastic the better, so I don't know if that'll help you exactly."
He nods, glancing at his own wine. "I've never lost anyone that close to me. Friends..." He's had a couple of friends who overdosed, and one who killed himself, but in retrospect the fact that there weren't more seems remarkable. That period of life was verging on a cautionary tale. "I guess I am glad I'm not just wondering." He pauses. "I don't have any idea about my father, though. At this point I don't care - he certainly doesn't - but it is a little odd to think how little I know." He takes a drink. "That's one reason I used to like this song, when I was too little to appreciate all my mother did. The magical father returning for his son. A little silly."
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The thought of not knowing a parent...that was something Alex couldn't relate to at all. The Senator and his wife were not always the easiest people to have as parents but he knew without a doubt that they both loved their children. "That's understandable though. It was easier as a child to create a romantic version of events. It's not silly at all. And I'm sure your mother knew you appreciated her, even while wanting your father to return."