Le Cirque

[Obelisk]

It was going to be a stressful couple of weeks, Jericho could base this hypothesis on his current client. He was some bigwig from a company who had taken a less-than ethical approach to business. He'd netted himself a large amount of money and would have gotten away with it if he'd stopped early on. Greed had gotten the better of him, he was caught, and now Jericho was trying to figure out a way to lessen his sentencing. The case in itself didn't really bother the lawyer, it was the client, a bullheaded, aggressive and thoroughly annoying bastard of a man that was bringing down his mood.

The Romanian-bred man tried to push those thoughts aside as he allowed his eye to scan over the menu. Le Cirque, one of the fanciest, most well known restaurants in the city. Reservations were required and Jericho had happened to reserve a table for two. The paranoid lawyer had decided being seen in public with Nero was acceptable as long as they appeared as friends or colleagues; nothing more. The thought of only being able to see the man in the privacy of their own homes, and only when their work schedules were absolutely clear, was something Jericho couldn't stomach. He needed more interaction than that to keep him sane --especially during hellish cases like his current one.

The establishment itself was grand, a mix of modern and an old, royal sense of decor. The lighting was low, yellow and warm, creating an overall relaxed feeling despite how crowded it was, despite how high end it was. Jericho liked the place well enough but went there more for the fact that it was where aristocrats and people of status frequented. Jericho wasn't, surprisingly enough, much of a picky eater but it he'd rather be eating out of a carton of Chinese than the elaborate food of the French. Not that he'd let anyone know that. He was a refined man, after all.

Le Cirque was a suit and jacket sort of place and Jericho didn't really have to worry. He always dressed well for work. That day he was wearing a black suit, a red dress shirt and a silver tie. His hair was combed and slicked back. To be honest, given his eye patch and general appearance, he almost looked like he belonged more in the mafia than in the courtroom. Intimidating and imposing as he was handsome-- the way Jericho preferred things.

He wasn't really reading over the variety of French cuisine -- more expensive than they were worth-- and instead the words blended into gibberish through the unfocused vision of his eye. Jericho was waiting, waiting for Nero to show. He wouldn't order until then and besides, for some reason he was feeling nervous-- almost as if those first date jitters were back. This would be the first time they were actually out together in the public eye, though the extent of their relationship would remain hidden. Regardless of that fact, of the discreet nature of things, it still felt monumental in some aspects. Maybe that was just Jericho being overly romantic. He stopped that thought right there and nearly rolled his eyes at himself. He was feeling more and more like an idiot these days.

Casting a look around the restaurant from his private table in the corner, Jericho sighed and set the menu down. Once Nero came he'd be able to forget about the stresses of the day and relax, if only for the duration of dinner. How ever small the respite, Jericho would savor and be thankful for.

[KOCHI-KOCHI]

For once Nero could be greedy with his toys. Instead of sharing with all the others, he had his very own to be possessive over, his precious little plaything that he could use roughly and not worry about getting in trouble for hurting.

When the jack-of-trades found out he'd be going to a fancy restaraunt, mixed emotions flew through his system but he voiced none of them. It was the unspoken topic in his life, the one he dreaded thinking about. After careful inspection of his closet Nero discovered he had absolutely nothing to wear, atleast nothing that he WANTED to wear so he had to go out. There had been temptation to get something absolutely horrid and flashy, but in the end he took the tailors advice. Usually he wouldn't spend that much money on something so frivilous that he would only likely only wear once, but, Nero had a feeling that Jericho might want to see him dressed up more than this one occassion.

So Nero showed up to the restaraunt in his crappy little truck and got a very strange look from the snot-nosed kid who had to park it. Mainly because stepping out of the mud covered pick-up truck was a six foot three black man in a stunningly white suit underneath the dark coat that was taken at the door. Not egg shell white, not show white, but as dazzlingly pristine as the tint you experienced when staring at the sun. White shined up shoes that matched his dazzling smile, and a tie that was the identical hue of his eyes. No attempt had been made at cleaning up his appearance save for the suit. Cologne was absent as he had his own masculine musk, the ponytail remained untouched, and his hair was too short to even bother 'styling'. And of course, the scruff on his face was left unharmed. The distraction of a light suit on dark skin hid the beautiful body art underneath, keeping it secret, much like the lawyer and his relationship.

It was a shame. Both having to hide the tattoos and having to remain tight-lipped about having a new boyfriend. It had occured to Nero during the time they were forced to spend apart that he would never get to parade Jericho around like the prize that he was, get to introduce him to his friends, or even throw him a surprise birthday party. Unsure about whether or not he could live with that, to keep his hands off the other man in public, even this dinner was going to be slightly torturous. Although, it would force Jericho to talk more instead of you know, ending up fucking like rabbits.

The taller man didn't even need to be shown to the reserved table, it was spotted easily, tucked away in the corner. Nero didn't want to have some damned maitre d' pull out his chair for him, but any of his discontent at being in such a highscale restaraunt was masked with a charming smile as he seated himself opposite of the other.

As much as he liked Jericho out of his clothes, the man did know how to put together clothing well. "Good evening, Mr. Vãduva." The name rolled off his tongue easily, grinning with his mockery of formality. There was that feeling of not belonging in this place even if he dressed the part, but when he rested comfortably in his chair it was just where he belonged.

[Obelisk]

Had it occurred to Jericho that down-to-earth, minimalist Nero might feel uncomfortable in such an upscale scene? Yes, but the other man's potential discomfort was an unfortunate but necessary evil. There was no way that Jericho would bring himself to eat dinner within an average or heaven forbid, run-down, establishment. He had appearances to keep up and Jericho was conceded enough to think himself better and above such things. It was the way he'd been raised. That higher-than-thou trait to his personality existed solely in the outside world where he was the lawyer, the yuppie, and the prodigal son. There was a role that had been manufactured for him to fit into, for him to play and he'd been doing so for thirty-two long years. Within his and Nero's new and private world, however, things had proven to be quite different.

It was a whisper in the back of his mind, a sudden thrill, that subtle, unfathomable feeling one got when someone important entered a room. Jericho looked up from where his eye had been lingering on the white linen of the tablecloth, not really looking, just thinking. What he saw was undoubtedly the most stunning sight that he could recall ever having the fortune to see. Nero was gorgeous and it almost hurt to know that Jericho couldn't publicly lay claim to him. He knew others were looking especially those sycophantic but beautiful women who were attracted to power. Nero radiated it and he really seemed none the wiser or, rather, he really didn't seem to care.

It was Nero's velvet voice and radiant grin that snapped Jericho's mind back into working. He could only hope he hadn't been staring too openly. It was Nero's own damned fault for looking so good, not that Jericho could ever bring himself to complain. There was a certain juvenile and avaricious satisfaction Jericho drew from the fact that the gorgeous man sitting opposite of him was his. Or, perhaps, Jericho belonged to Nero and that was fine, too, because he liked that idea, he liked it a lot. His green eye met Nero's gaze, made all the more brilliant blue by his attire, and Jericho smiled.

The gesture came easily and it was honest, and it was happy. There was something about Nero's presence-- his own make of warmth and charisma--that made Jericho relax almost instantly, a learned response. He took just a moment longer to enjoy Nero's appearance, trying to commit to memory every detail, before speaking. Here, in public, his voice was different. Words were found easily, his tone eloquent.

" I'm glad you could make it. And please, call me Jericho. 'Mr. Vãduva' is my father's title." Still smiling. " I hope you didn't find any trouble on the way here, Mr...." Jericho gave pause, a slender brow quirking. " You know, I never did learn your full name. I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage." He grinned then and picked up the menu and glanced down at it before looking up and speaking lowly.

"You look good." There was a quirk of his lips, impish, and a certain look that entered into his one-eyed gaze, that said it all. To the rest of the world --not that they were close enough to see-- the expression was nothing more than a smile.

[KOCHI-KOCHI]

"Do I? Thankyou, Jericho, I bought this just for this occassion, i'm glad it meets your standards of fashion. I expect to be reimbursed for my efforts, of course." Innuendo was unmistakable, not because it was obvious, but because his liquid-sex voice made just about everything sound sexual in nature. He wasn't oblivious to it so he kept his face as innocent as possible, and nor was he naive to the eyes on him. Nero was used to it by this point in his life, and he didn't have time for any of them, he only had eyes for the man with one. And the fact that that single green eye was practically devouring him was good enAough to justify splurging on an expensive suit and getting it fit to his large proportions rather than renting something.

"My full, legal name is capital N, followed by a lower case e, r, and then ending with an o." It wasn't what was on his birth certificate though. Not that he even knew where that was, it had been left behind with all of his old memories. Memories that were surfacing now and bothering him, like the fact that he knew what all of these forks were used for, or could recognize the music, and knew what all of these french terms on the menu meant.

Nero took up the menu, though he wasn't reading it. He was hiding his handsome face behind it. One long leg outstretched and he took advantage of how ridiculously long the tablecloth was, kicking Jericho's foot with his own. Yes. He was playing footsie at an extremely upper-class restaraunt. Nothing about the way Nero was behaving would give you any hint that underneath the table he was playfully nudging the other mans feet. Elbows off the table, sitting up straight, scanning the menu thoughfully. Even that slight contact was enough to keep him from throwing the other down on the table or dragging him off to the bathroom.

"Besides," He peered out from overtop of the menu, and you could see the smile in his eyes. "I don't think you mind being at a disadvantage to me."

It was sort of strange seeing Jericho in public. Nero only knew the man as Jericho, his boyfriend, his secret lover. Not as a lawyer, sitting there well composed and speaking freely. He was obviously in his element now and the taller man could see the shark in him, but Nero wasn't afraid of the deep waters.

[Obelisk]

" You have my word that you'll be repaid for your efforts," Jericho returned easily, speaking plainly, as if the innuendo behind the words were lost on him. The small smile playing on his lips was telling, however, as he glanced over the menu, finding nothing in particular appealed to his palate. He wasn't hungry; he never really was during the week days (work days).

"Somehow." He added, glancing up briefly from the list of French dishes. Honestly, Jericho felt that French food was often overly elaborate, but he wouldn't complain. It was he who had chosen the restaurant, after all.

Another quirk of his brow and Jericho tilt his head just slightly. " Oh? Well then I suppose Mr.Nero will have to suffice." His smile lost a bit of its warmth then, mildly annoyed at the fact Nero's name, apparently, wasn't at liberty to learn. Every man had their secrets but this was an odd one. What harm could giving out your name do, especially to your boyfriend? Well, they hadn't know each other for long. Maybe the trust wasn't there. It was just his goddamned last name, though, so what was the problem. No. He wouldn't let himself get annoyed. Jericho pushed the thoughts from his mind; he was reading too much into things. He had the tendency to do that, really, to worry over the smallest of details for hours on end. Tonight he would relax, tonight would be good, he decided.

Or at least try to relax. Jericho gave a visible start when Nero's foot pushed against him and gave the older male such a scandalized look one would assume he thought playing a secret game of footsie was on par with having sex in public. Jericho pulled his feet away and shot Nero a disapproving look, though much of the effect was lost when it became obvious he was fighting a smile.

Staying in a pissy mood around Nero was next to impossible. It was the older man's next innuendo that brought a full-fledged smile back to the lawyer's lips. He wasn't sure how the night would play out but Jericho was finding it hard to play the part and not to smile too much, to give a certain telling look. He dropped his eye to the side and made no attempt to answer. Fortunate for Jericho, a waiter came by and Jericho ordered a bottle of Trebbiano d'Abruzzo, sending the worker away, saying they weren't ready to order.

Of course he was assuming things, thinking that Nero wasn't quite ready to decide on which course to dine on. He'd taken the initiative and was accustomed to the role, at least in the outside world. In private, with Nero, he'd more than willingly given up the initiative for a submissive role. No. He wasn't thinking about sex. Not at dinner. No. No. Looking at Nero didn't help, he was the human representation of all things sexy. Look somewhere else. At that older woman who dressed too young for her age. Oh god. Jericho sank in his seat just a fraction and held his menu up, trying to inconspicuously shield his face from someone's view.

That older woman who had effectively shut off his libido was none other than Luciana Vaduva, Jericho's mother.

"So, Nero, how was your week? Good I hope. My there's a lot to choose from, it may take me a while to decide on what exactly to eat. You can go ahead an order without me, if you'd like." Nope. His behavior wasn't telling at all.

"I really like how they set this menu up, the text and graphic design is nice." What the hell was he even talking about anymore? A sense of foreboding doom settled over him and Jericho was fast regretting ever have deciding on Le Cirque. It was his mother's favorite. He shouldn't have taken the chance.

[KOCHI-KOCHI]

Nero felt bad about not being able to give the other a last name to address him by, but the truth was that he hadn't had a last name for roughly twenty two years. As for having the initiative taken from him, he didn't mind at all or even seem to notice. The older man was passive and good natured, and although he would have dealth with the service-people himself if Jericho hadn't he was more than happy to sit back and let the other take control. It just meant he had more time to plan his next attack.

"Mister Nero?" Even though his game of footsies had been so coldly rejected, Nero wasn't giving up that easily. He had managed to wrestle one shoe off and was extending his foot for the intention of feeling up what he could of Jericho under the table. "There's something else you can call me that's very similar to that, infact, it's just one letter off-" And just before his toes would have made contact with the inside of a thigh his attention was stolen and limb was retracted. Jericho ruined his attempted molestation by looking back and shrinking like a turtle and hiding.

"My week was great, a bit lonely but i'm looking into pyrotechnics and fireworks-" Wait a second. The darker skinned male was more than happy to talk Jericho's ear off about how his week had been and to exclaim how he was going to order the most ridiculously expensive thing on the menu, but, something was up. Nero followed the path where his nervous lover had been looking.

Wha? It was just a woman. No, a lady. Who looked eerily familiar to.. "Jericho," Nero leaned forward on the table, arms folding and placed on the tablecloth. A look of concern accompanied a slightly quieted tone. "What's wrong?" Just why did the other man look so uncomfortable and babbling like a madman? This was his territory! If anyone should be awkward, it should be himself, not his precious little lawyer. The man who ordered their wine without asking, put together his clothes effortlessly, who was utterly appauled at the notion of touching feet in public even though nobody could see him, was making a lame attempt at concealing himself from some harmless looking woman.

[Obelisk]

Bless Nero for looking so concerned, Jericho thought, and offered the man a simpering, apologetic look. He really was making an ass of himself and this was supposed to be his arena, the area in which he was all confidence and all eloquence. The appearance of his mother squandered that confidence because as sweet and well meaning as the woman was, she honestly...it was difficult to explain.

The lawyer's mouth opened to respond but the voice that followed did not belong to him.

"Jeri! Jeri is that you?" A high-pitched, sweet-as-honey voice that Jericho seemed to pale at, swallowing nervously. The woman made her way towards the pair and just by the way she walked one could tell she was brimming over with a giddy, airy sort of energy. She was dressed in a black cocktail dress and she was quite pretty, but you could tell she had had more than one facelift in her lifetime. Almost middle-eastern in appearance, soft features, smooth caramel skin. She had Jericho's eyes, or rather, he had hers.

The look on Jericho's face was stricken and he met Nero's gaze briefly before standing up and turning to face his mother. The grin he wore was all teeth and he held out his arms.

"Mother!" He greeted with a false sort of cheeriness. She seemed not to notice and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him lightly. Jericho returned the gesture and kissed both of her cheeks, their usual greeting. " I hadn't expected to see you. I thought you were in Las Vegas?" The smile that was planted on his handsome features was plastic and almost painful to wear.

Luciana waved her hand and shook her head. " I got bored." Fair enough. It was then that her eyes settled on the man who occupied the seat opposite to Jericho's. The way she looked Nero up and down left nothing to the imagination. She was appreciating the view and didn't care who noticed.

"And who might this be?" A flirtatious tone, a red finger-nailed hand reaching out to pet down Nero's shoulder.

" This is Nero, an.... associate of mine. Mr.Nero, this is my mother, Luciana Vãduva." Jericho wasn't a religious man but was silently praying that he'd somehow manage to get through the night without killing himself or going insane. Her hand was still on Nero's shoulder and that bothered Jericho, even if it was harmless flirting. "Mother, not that I don't enjoy you company, you know I adore it, but haven't you friend's waiting on you?"

Jericho's mother shot him a pouty look and said, simply, "They can wait a while longer." Then she stole his seat, leaving Jericho standing there, blinking. At least she wasn't touching Nero anymore. Jericho excused himself to secure another seat for himself.

Luciana crossed her legs, leaning over the table, watching Nero as if he was the most fascinating thing she'd ever set eyes on. " You are a very good looking man, Mr. Nero." The woman practically purred. "Jeri never introduces me to his friends, you know. He's so private."

Jericho returned, the waiter holding out the seat for him. Jericho took it and looked between his mother and Nero, hoping against hope that nothing too horrible had transpired during his short absence. Thankfully another waiter returned with the wine Jericho had ordered and poured it out for each of the three, and Jericho wasted no time in taking sanctuary in the bittersweet alcohol.

"You know, we don't see many black people in places like this." Luciana meant absolutely no harm by the statement and it was spoken in pure innocent ignorance. Jericho's eye widened and shifted to Nero. He quickly drained his glass and poured another, praying to the powers that be that he was just having some hellish nightmare.

[KOCHI-KOCHI]

The voice reminded him very distinctly of nails on a chalkboard and his face screwed up appropriately, having to stop himself from placing his hands over his ears. The hell was THAT? When his eyes met the cause, and then found Jericho's stricken expression, he understood. Any amusement at the shortening of the others name to Jeri was completely nullified by what he saw.

He wasn't able to react mentally, but his body language was casual and his face was kept calm even as his brain whirred. Nero couldn't tell how old this woman was, she was obviously older than either of them was it was so hard to discern the specific age, even by staring at her features. She did have pretty eyes, atleast. And then it was Jericho's turn to be scrutinized. This was a man he had never seen before, as even when they were first introduced he hadn't been that plastic. Was this was he was normally like, to other people, to anyone but him? Nero started to lightly smile at the thought that only he got to see that beautiful genuine emotion but the soft grin was murdered ruthlessly on his face.

Mother? This was his MOTHER? Well, there was her age. The notion that Nero was right now, at this very instant, meeting his boyfriends mother was baffling. Behind his very smooth exterior Nero was wigging the fuck out. Woah, wait, hold up, not only that, she was looking at him like he was a piece of meat. And. And. TOUCHING him. When that perfectly-maintained hand stroked his shoulder he was so damned glad there was fabric keeping his skin protected from her fingers. He was rescued only to have her take up a seat at their table. Nero watched Jericho leave nervously, swallowing before looking back to his mother.

Oh god. Oh god. Up untill this point he had been fairly oblivious to her flirting with him, or rather, he had vehemently denied it to himself. But this was impossible to ignore.

The date with his forbidden-boyfriend had been crashed by his mother, who was now hitting on him.

One arm hung over the back of the chair and beneath the table he slipped his shoe back on, practically breathing a sigh of relief when the shorter man returned. It was smothered and strangled in his throat, as brutally slaughtered as his grin had been. Thankfully, he hadn't been taking advantage of the drink presented yet, for when you spewed wine and were wearing a white suit things usually didn't end well.

He had been silent till now, wearing an unreadable expression, but after a desperate glance at Jericho he finally found his voice. His sexy-as-hell-deep-voice. Nero took a good minute to collect himself, to remind himself of his way of life, his motto, the way he functioned and operated. To let things flow. To roll with the punches. This was just a small bump in the road, relax. Apparently, like him, his mother was incredibly blunt.

"Thankyou, Mrs. Vaduva, i'm flattered that you find me handsome." And just like that, Nero was good old charming Nero. "And no, I suppose you don't." One elbow placed itself on the back of his chair, taking up his glass in the other and sipping. "Such a shame, and I don't have the pleasure of meeting many Romanians either." A slight smile, just sneaking across his features.

Feathers were ruffled and he was both cautious and disturbed, but NOTHING, nothing could ever make Nero uncomfortable or awkward. Besides. This was his boyfriends parent. So what if she was flirting with him a bit, it was harmless.

[Obelisk]

"Oh please," The woman with the sickly voice said, waving her hand once, laughing a fluty sort of giggle. "Call me Luciana.. Mrs. Vaduva makes me feel so old." A sharp laugh that time, one that made Jericho flinch. He was staring at his mother as if she had three heads, a tail, and a horn. Every time she glanced over to him, however, he'd flash that politician's smile, blinding in its whiteness and false meaning.

Jericho grabbed the menu, hoping to occupy himself, but his mother was quicker, snatching it out of his grasp. She made a humming noise and looked over it, pretending to do the motherly thing. "You haven't been eating well, have you Jeri? All that take-out. You're likely to get fat." She looked up to Nero and shook her head smiling. " He was such a plump little boy." Her sharp green gaze moved to Jericho to who's credit, was able to keep a neutral expression.

"And you know you have diabetes, Jeri, you need to watch your diet." At that Jericho's expression did falter and he almost looked incredulous. His mother was trying so hard; he really couldn't be angry with her. She meant well, she did. The lawyer only smiled, speaking to his mother in that patient, kind tone of his.

"That was our dog, mother. Buddy's the one who had diabetes, not me."

She wasn't listening, or is she was, she ignored the comment, placing the menu onto the table, forgetting even why she had it. Nero was far more interesting, after all. Jericho was almost wishing that Nero didn't look so good, that his voice wasn't sex translated into sound waves. His mother's flirting was harmless but that didn't mean that Jericho wasn't getting upset. The man was jealous be nature and if he was a bird, his feathers would've appeared very ruffled at that point.

"So, Nero. What is it that you do? Don't tell me you're a lawyer, too? That profession seems so dull. All that talking and paperwork." The older woman rolled her eyes at that and Jericho just looked away, already far into his second glass of wine, fast on his way towards his third.

"Nero does a lot of things, mother. You'd be surprised." A quirk of his lips and he looked too smug, too damned smug. His mother totally missed the meaning behind his expression and only spared her son a brief glance.

"Oh, does he now? What kind of things?" She was leaning far, far onto the table then, hands braced against her cheeks. Her dress was low cut and due to her leaning a good shot of her cleavage was exposed. Luciana was a trophy wife, a woman forever stuck in the idea that she was a minx, something to be put on a pedestal and adored.

"Yes, Nero, why don't you tell my mother exactly what it is that you do." Jericho quipped, eye shifting to Nero. The surreal nature of the situation, his embarrassment, and the wine all worked to put the younger man into an off mood. He seemed a bit unstable but was smiling a tight sort of smile. Let's make this a game, it said, because through humor he might survive this.

[KOCHI-KOCHI]

The mental picture of a little pudgy Jericho entered his mind the full grin there was genuine, leaning back in his seat. Maybe she had baby pictures or something in her purse. Oh, that would be great to see! There had been nothing in the lawyers house for him to look at, but, somehow he doubted she would carry something like that with her. And it might seem suspicious to ask.

Innuendo wasn't lost on him, but he was a bit surprised with Jericho. Wouldn't his mother catch on? Gaze shifted from his lover to his mother. Oh. Apparently not.

Competely reject her advances and possibly have her dislike you, or play along? There had to be a happy medium. But this wasn't a concern to him, as he always did, Nero just acted on instinct and did what came naturally.

He leaned forward, nearly mimicing her, arms folded beneath him on the tablecloth. Nero was so very very close to her she could probably smell him and his own senses were most certaintly being assaulted by an expensive aroma. "I can't tell you exactly what it is that I do." One of his massive smiles coated his dark handsome features. And then in one fluid motion his entire body extended backwards, leaning far back in his chair, tipping it dangerously and clasping his hands behind his neck. "It's top secret, Mrs. Vaduva."

Of course Nero's incredible charm and suaveness wouldn't dare falter even under extraordinarily difficult circumstances. Nor would he lie. Nor did his eyes ever dip below her face, although, when his light blues moved to Jericho they had a difficult time remaining on his green and not drifting to the rest of him. Hmm.

"Jericho," One of his rolling laughs, like melted chocolate to the ears, "Be careful, you don't want to get so drunk things become awkard and I have to drive you home."

[Obelisk]

So Nero was apparently a FBI agent or something now. Hell, maybe Nero really was some sort of agent. The man was largely a mystery to Jericho. Within the lawyers mind, Johnny River's was singing "secret agent man." Jericho's smile was humored and blessedly real. He was looking at Nero with what could be mistaken as brotherly affection -- mistaken because it was anything but brotherly.

Luciana pouted, looking like the child she really was. She'd never grown up, never had any responsibilities of her own. She wasn't the one who raised Jericho, thank god, it was his nanny who'd usurped the role of mother. Hence her confusing the dog's health problems with Jericho's.

"Some sort of agent, that's sexy." The woman didn't know when to quit. Jericho had apparently ignored Nero's words of warning and was merrily sipping away at more wine. Wine always managed to get him drunk faster than beer for some reason.

"Yes mother. Mr. Nero is a very secretive genius of a man. You see, he's capable of a great many things. But he can't say what exactly." Jericho was nodding, nodding more than necessary, a bit tipsy. "Let's just say he could bring the most powerful and imposing man to his knees." He was having fun with this now, it was either that or shrivel up and die in shame.

"Oh, that is impressive." His mother purred and Jericho's grin was far too amused for his own good.

"He is an impressive man in many exciting aspects. I'm glad you approve, mother." Sipping even more at his glass, pouring himself a new one. The wine was damned expensive, too, and Jericho was going through it like water.

"You honestly should introduce me to more of your friends, if they're anything like Nero, here." She was absolutely taken with the impressive, handsome man.

"Oh, I can assure you mother, Nero is one of a kind. No one could measure up to him." Oh lord, he was feeling so clever.

" My, my, I've never seen compliments flow so freely from you, Jeri." His mother observed, staring at he son curiously.

Jericho only shrugged. "It must be the wine." Of which he quickly drained half his glass.

"You really should slow down, Jeri. I don't want you embarrassing yourself or me by getting drunk. In fact, I think maybe you should have Nero escort you home." With that, the woman stood up, straightened her dress and gave Nero a bright smile. Apparently a tipsy Jericho was getting on her nerves enough for her to leave. "It was an absolute pleasure, Nero. I hope Jeri doesn't embarrass you. He's never really been able to hold his alcohol. I do hope we meet again, but I think I've kept my friends waiting too long." She gave an annoying little finger wave and walked off towards her own table, hips swaying provocatively. She even went as far as to throw a look over her shoulder towards Nero, smiling with red-painted lips.

With her gone Jericho sat staring blankly for a moment before popping over into his rightful seat. He bit his lower lip and stared Nero directly in the eye. The man's mouth opened but no words came. He looked down sharply, then back up to Nero.

" I am. So. So. Sorry." He honestly was, his face was a tragic mixture of apology and an odd sort of humor. " I. Maybe. Maybe we should leave. Unless you're hungry. I don't..." Jericho shook his head and heaved a dejected sigh. " If she comes back I might. I might die. And that wouldn't be good. Being...dead. I mean." That wine was really damned good and Jericho drained the rest of it, forcing himself into apathy. Sometimes life just really fucking sucked.

[KOCHI-KOCHI]

Nero had to cover his mouth with his hand, feigning as though he was idly scratching at his scruffy beard when in reality he was making a poor attempt at covering his grin. The innuendo going overtop of her head was marvelous. Watching Jericho's drunken antics and little quips were too hilarious and satisfying, and the way the shorter man behaved with his mother was baffling. Then agan, she really wasn't acting much like a parent either. It didn't need to be said that she could have easily been his mother.

He was more than happy to oblidge the request to escort his lover home. Food and appetite had been immediately forgotten the moment the name 'Jeri' snapped through the air and now all he wanted to do was get the hell out of there. Besides, he hadn't been keen on the fancy french food in the first place. It was a waste of his nice new suit though. Sigh.

"Come on," He stood up without bothering to push his chair back in. "We're leaving before she changes her mind. I don't want to have to burry any more bodies." Rich hearty laughter, a mischevious glint in his blue eyes. After helping Jericho to his feet he insisted upon helping the other man walk whether or not he needed the aid. One arm around his shoulder and coaxing a limb to curl around his own neck for support. This of course allowed Nero to whisper in a sly voice, so close that only Jericho would ever be able to hear him. "Atleast now we know being attracted to me is in your blood."

Helping the other through the restaraunt and to the parked car garage, deciding on asking the valet to get his truck for him. Could have driven Jericho's nice car, but, he liked his truck, damnit. A huge and all too smug smile plastered itself on his face, "Although, I suppose things might have been different had have she known that underneath this sexy suit was a tattooed mailman slash plumber." And then he leaned down to speak into the lawyers ear directly, a deviant grin on his face. "Who likes to fuck men. Specifically her son."

And then he straightened up, free hand adjusting his tie and taking both their coats from the maitre 'd before ushering Jericho into the passenger side of the truck with the coats on his lap. After getting the keys in the ignition and hearing the old girl purr like.. well, not like a kitten. More like a tired old cat hacking up a hair ball.

"Where we going, Jeri?"

[Obelisk]

Jericho was drunk, more drunk off of embarrassment and his own, personal issues than the good amount of wine he had ingested. Still, he was drunk, and Nero's help was appreciated, more for the contact than anything else. Jericho had enough presence of mind not to do anything too telling and was very content in playing the part of the drunk. He'd probably hear about this fiasco later from colleagues and opponent's alike, but being known as a drunk was better than being known as a gay. Or a gay drunk. Or something. It was hard to think, especially with Nero's voice whispering naughty things into the shell of his ear. Naughty things that made him grin and chuckle.

" An affliction to my blood, a...sickness written into my genes?" He was babbling but he found the thought so amusing, especially now that the danger of one lusty and assertive Luciana was good and gone. The outside air, though in no manner fresh, this being the city, felt good on his skin. It was dark out, too, so it disguised the way the lawyer flushed at Nero's provocative words.

" You could probably fuck me right in front of her and she wouldn't be deterred. She probably still wouldn't put two and two together. Shallow, vapid creature that she is." He was sounding sullen now, a bit bitchy and though 'oops'. " 'We don't see many black people here.'" Jericho sing-songed, echoing his mother's colossal blunder in word choice. "I... will make this up to you somehow. I'll. Do something." Jericho was babbling even as he slid into the passenger seat of Nero's truck.

"This thing is a death trap." Jericho announced, shooting Nero a disapproving look. " Very unbefitting for a secret....agent....man." The grin that followed his words was absolutely charming because he was far too amused than was necessary. "You, my good sir, are fabulous." A pause then as he struck with a sudden realization. " Did I really just say... I did."

His head hit against the seat and he slid down a little. " I am such a fag." Sober and in his right mind, Jericho would've been annoyed beyond words, but now he was just amused. When Nero spoke his shortened name, Jericho glanced at him but smiled, smirked, really. " I like it better when you say it." Really, it didn't sound annoying at all in that deep baritone.

" Anywhere. Any place. We could go swingin' on the Riveria, end up in Bombay alley the next day." Grinning as he played with the lyrics from that infamous Johnny River's song. " Mmm, what do you -want- Nero? Mister Nero." Smiling a coy sort of smile. What was it that Nero had said? Mister, one letter away from... "Master." The word rolled off his tongue in satisfaction.

"Take me to lookout point and we can make out like horny teenagers." A joke and the man was grinning even as he leaned his head against the glass window of the door, eye watching idly as people passed by.

"Really, Nero. I don't care. Just not here. Anywhere else but here."

[KOCHI-KOCHI]

Nero leaned over to buckle his lover up, tightening the seatbelt till he was sure it held him in place. Well. Then locked his door. "You want me to fuck you infront of other people, huh? Into exhibitionism?" Couldn't tell if it was teasing or a question. Probably a bit of both, accompanied by one of his smiles. "And this old girl isn't a death trap," Nero sat back in his own seat, pulling on his seatbelt and patting the steering wheel affectionately. "Atleast not when i'm driving her." ... Just what the hell did that mean?

When Jericho said that word, the taller man started. He moaned, a deep wanton sound from deep in his throat, sinking down in his seat and closing his eyes. It was a damn god good thing he hadn't already started driving or his old trusty truck would have mostly likely wrapped itself around a telephone pole. "Jesus christ.. Jericho.. don't say that unless..." Nero didn't need to finish the sentence. A hand drug through his hair, trying to compose himself, breathing deeply. That two syllable word obviously had a serious effect on him, placing a hand on the wheel and the other on the gearshift, focusing ahead of the road ahead of himself as he shifted out of park.

While driving he got his jacket off of himself and rolled up his sleeves. It was nice and all, but just too damned confining. That single word had his pants horrible uncomfortable and he was considering just pulling over on the side of the road or taking Jericho's joking advice and finding some 'lovers lane'. No hotels, unfortunately. He needed to get somewhere NOW. Whose house was closer? The lawyers. So off he went at a dangerous speed, the sound of screws rattling around and the truck making all sorts of nerve-wrecking noises.

Sharp turns that burned rubber and the tires screeched, impossible angles and illegal u-turns diving infront of oncoming traffic. This was INSANE driving. The sort of shit you only saw in movies. Nero didn't even look over at Jericho once. His blue eyes were set on what was infront of him, not moving except to flick up to the mirrors. Any noises, screams, or cries to slow down were completely ignored, even when he drove on the sidewalk and overtop of peoples lawns just to save a few seconds.

The ugly, crappy, but apparently very sturdy and durable truck pulled into Jericho's driveway with a skidding stop, the engine roaring in disatisfaction as he parked just inches from smashing into the house. And then, only THEN did he enlighten his boyfriend.

"Oh yeah. Don't be scared, I was a stunt driver." Oops. Was probably a bit late in saying that. But it was Jericho's own fault for getting him riled up.

[Obelisk]

Jericho noted with satisfaction the way Nero had reacted to the new title, committing it to memory. His mental victory dance was cut short when Nero's death trap on wheels was put to the test. The lawyer had lived a very sheltered life, had been chauffeured around by the best drivers money could afford. This was not a pleasant ride through the streets. This was a nightmare of things passing by too quickly of near misses (or so Jericho thought) and hellish, frightening noises of screeching wheels. To the man's credit, the vast amount of liquid he'd consumed had stayed inside of him. An amazing feat when you were scared to death.

He was clutching at the seat when the ride from hell finally ended, eye wide, back pressed into the cushion. The lawyer's breathing was ragged and he could literally feel just how frantic the beat of his heart was. Any faster and the muscle was likely to burst. The drunken giddiness and stupor was all but wiped away by Nero's mad dash home and Jericho was left feeling very sober and very, very scared.

That shell-shocked look etched into his features morphed into a mask of sulking annoyance and the man flashed Nero a dark, smoldering glare. His bottom lip stuck out just a bit farther than normal and yes, the thirty-two year old man was pouting.

"I hate you." He complained, not really meaning the words for what they were. He thought them appropriate, though, to be spoken to a man who'd just nearly cost you your life. Well, Nero had had things under control, apparently, but Jericho was still stuck on the wild ride through the city. His heart still felt like it was beating twenty times too fast. The younger man swallowed strongly and undid his buckle, fiddling with the door until it opened. Then he all but stumbled out, nearly face planting onto the pavement, but managing to catch himself. Okay, so maybe he was still a bit drunk. Having the living daylights scared out of you probably messed with one's motor skills as well, that and he really, really had to pee.

Finally free of Nero's rusty bucket on wheels, Jericho flashed a scowl in Nero's direction and made his towards his door. It was then that it dawned on Jericho. He'd had a valet park his car. He didn't have his car keys. The keys to which his house key was attached. He was locked outside of his own home and he really, really had to pee. His bladder took priority to figuring out a way to get inside his home and Jericho was left to skulk towards the bushes.

"Don't look." He demanded of Nero, feeling self-conscious. Jericho tried not to think about the fact that he was locked outside of his own home. Tried not to think too much on how he was hiding behind some bushes and relieving himself on his own lawn in one of the most upscale neighborhoods around. This was the most bizarre night ever and Jericho was wondering why he wasn't more upset. It was almost amusing and dare he say, fun?

The ache in his bladder gone, Jericho turned his attention to the next task at hand. There had to be a window open; Jericho's security habits were somewhat lax.

"I don't have my keys." The man revealed to his lover at last, looking a bit put out. Nero was in such a hurry to get here, too, and now there was apparently no way in. Jericho grinned deviously at that realization. Maybe this wasn't so bad. He could bide his time and tease and garner no small amount of amusement from the predicament. Nero looked damned fine in his suit though, so tall, broad shouldered and handsome and... okay. No waiting.

There, on the second floor, a window opened just a crack. An incline of a lower section of roofing led straight to it. Maybe he could reach it if he had some help, if he had --

"I need a boost." Jericho stated, eyeing the window in question. "Or we could drive back to the restaurant and I could get my keys. Scratch that, you could drive back. Alone. Because I'm never getting in a vehicle with you again. Unless I'm driving." Another frown that passed off more as a pout.