"Not to mention, rather lighter on the wallet." This was...surprisingly nice. Not just the free liquor, but the combination of company and harmless lark. It had been quite a while since he'd done anything like this, just for the fun of it. Something inside him begins to ease, infinitesimally. Edmund finds a more comfortable spot for his shoulders against the side edge of the cabinet, his grin both knowing and kindly at his lightweight new chum.
His amusement only grew as Ienzo lectured him on the lasciviousness of the Ancients and Classics. He could barely hold back the quirk of lips as he replies flippantly. "Why certainly...we all know what the Satyrs and Fauns were really up to. When the gods themselves lead the revels and rivers of wine, why, what can we mere mortals do but follow in their prancing footsteps? Not just respectful, but worshipful."
His gaze settles with some curiosity on his hot-and-cold companion, full of fire one moment about erastes and the grand Hellenestic phallic tradition, and primly sedate the next. Just what did happen behind the doors of that mysterious black-coated set? And just where did Ienzo's place fall in the ranks of so many older, worldly fellows?
"Certainly, he doesn't strike me as the urbane harbinger of history," and Edmund takes another contemplative sip, rolling the sweet-strong liquid around in his mouth a second or two. He waves his hand. "But then, is anybody, really? We are all puppets, to some degree or other. No man's destiny is truly his own." He offers a careless grin at his own philosophical waxing and leans in with a little shake of chin. "You must promise not to turn me in for a Calvinist. Add it to the list of dangerous thoughts I indulge in."
Casually, he brushes up against Ienzo's shoulder and doesn't pull away. "In truth, there were some who thought your friends might be more of that sort than Wilkes. The Illuminati was a popular theory...but I thought it just as likely that the bunch of you might have invented a secret society all your own." His glances at Ienzo are only peripheral now. "Speaking of swell fronts. Some of them were rather old to be in sixth form, weren't they?"
no subject
His amusement only grew as Ienzo lectured him on the lasciviousness of the Ancients and Classics. He could barely hold back the quirk of lips as he replies flippantly. "Why certainly...we all know what the Satyrs and Fauns were really up to. When the gods themselves lead the revels and rivers of wine, why, what can we mere mortals do but follow in their prancing footsteps? Not just respectful, but worshipful."
His gaze settles with some curiosity on his hot-and-cold companion, full of fire one moment about erastes and the grand Hellenestic phallic tradition, and primly sedate the next. Just what did happen behind the doors of that mysterious black-coated set? And just where did Ienzo's place fall in the ranks of so many older, worldly fellows?
"Certainly, he doesn't strike me as the urbane harbinger of history," and Edmund takes another contemplative sip, rolling the sweet-strong liquid around in his mouth a second or two. He waves his hand. "But then, is anybody, really? We are all puppets, to some degree or other. No man's destiny is truly his own." He offers a careless grin at his own philosophical waxing and leans in with a little shake of chin. "You must promise not to turn me in for a Calvinist. Add it to the list of dangerous thoughts I indulge in."
Casually, he brushes up against Ienzo's shoulder and doesn't pull away. "In truth, there were some who thought your friends might be more of that sort than Wilkes. The Illuminati was a popular theory...but I thought it just as likely that the bunch of you might have invented a secret society all your own." His glances at Ienzo are only peripheral now. "Speaking of swell fronts. Some of them were rather old to be in sixth form, weren't they?"