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Tonight, Hunter is sitting on a bar stool in one of the Forum's bars in the commercial district, nursing his third beer of the evening.

The tattooed-covered young man is wearing a light gray tuxedo, so either he has been (or is going) to a semi-formal event. There are no clues to what kind of event that might be.

Right now, Hunter is stoic and quiet, as he finishes the beer. Looking around the bar, he spots a pool table. And, after ordering another beer, Hunter heads over to stake his claim at the table. He finds a place to hang up his coat, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt to reveal the tattoos that cover his arms.

Then he starts playing pool by himself. It really seems like the solo game is meant to be a distraction, doesn't it?

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"My emotional connection to the moment might get the better of me. Hazards of being an artist," Hunter chuckles. "I don't want it to speak too... much."

"Hazards, indeed," Schön murmurs. "How much is too much?"

"I don't know how to express it... but I don't want him to look upon this painting and always see..." Hunter frowns for the right word. "A romantic gesture."

"Mm. I see the peril," he concedes. "Do I take it he doesn't quite share your feelings at present?"

"It is difficult to truly know for certain." And right now, Hunter is a little nervous about putting his heart out there again.

"Ah. We tread the wide, trackless plain of 'it's complicated,' then."

"Never a fun path to tread, but it is a very accurate description." Hunter chuckles softly.

"I value his friendship, and don't want to ruin anything."

"Have you spoken with him about it?" Schön glances to the table; is it still Hunter's turn, or has his friend been waiting on him to take a shot?

It is Schön's turn, since Hunter had missed his last shot.

"We have spoken. All that fun awkwardness. That is why I know his concerns."

"Ah. A good time to let the matter rest awhile, then," he muses, taking a shot and sinking it. "As difficult as waiting can be. Do you think he has inclinations in your direction?" A second shot is less successful, and Schön straightens up to relinquish the table to Hunter.

"I have seen him react favorable to when I flirt." Hunter moves around the table to line up his next shot. He sinks another ball.

"I thought so," Schön muses quietly. "Well, he seems very much inside himself--I imagine the lad will need time to come to terms with any strong feelings. He'll need coaxing out into the open." The thin man gives Hunter a sidelong look; somebody knows that experience from the other side, after all, don't they?

"I am there to support him any way he needs." Hunter nods to the sidelong look. He is able to sink another shot, looks like the pool luck is on his side right now.

"And I will always be his friend."

"Then he is fortunate, indeed." Schön opts to stand back, watching the billiard-fu on display.

"I try to be a good friend to others." Hunter smiles shyly. He has no open shots left, but ensures that the ball is hit so not to leave any advantages open to Schön.

"For certain values, I see," the thin man observes drily, stalking around the table as he thinks. "Hmm, how orthodox a game are we playing, here?"

"This is all for fun, anything goes." It is not like they have anything wagered on the game, after all.

"Ha!" Schön laughs. "Be careful with the word 'anything,' dear Hunter. It may get you into trouble one day." Bending down, he takes careful aim and skips the cue ball over one of Hunter's to sink one of his own.

Hunter has to chuckle at the creative shot. He shrugs his shoulders slightly, then with a slight, cocky smile he remarks, "With a view like that, I am not going to complain."

Edited 2016-05-17 03:27 (UTC)

"Feeling flirtatious, are we? That's a lift in the spirit." Oh, but Schön, trying that trick again ends in a rather graceful scratch. Hunter's turn.

Hunter moves past Schön, a playful bump of his hip to the other man as he does. "I must be feeling more like myself."

He finds a good spot on the table, to sink another shot.

"Impressive," Schön observes. "People rarely manage that from an evening spent in a seedy bar."

"It must be the company."

"Eight ball, middle pocket." Hunter misses the shot.

"You are feeling better. Perhaps I should check the bar for our Mr. Serling," Schön teases, taking another shot. No good--the balls clatter around, but nothing sinks. "Tsk."

"And what would be the twist, that is about to be put before us?" Hunter flashes another grin.

"Eight ball, corner pocket." This time, he makes the shot.