Mateo
Of all the places in the Silk Houses - and rest assured, Mateo knows them all - underground boxing rings fall right to the bottom of his list of good nights out. A lover, not a fighter, is our botanist, and he's been loving his way through all of his favourite venues. He's on his way to another, in fact, his curls pulled into a careless top knot to keep them off the back of his neck, his waistcoat powder blue and embroidered with tiny daisies, shirtless beneath it.
But before he can ascend a fire escape decorated with ribbons to the little loft bar he'd like to fall out of later, he's jostled, quite abruptly in fact, by a group shoving their way into the 'massage parlour' next door. Mateo hears the words massacre and Dragon and pretty boy, and gods, it's either his father or his fucking friend, and that alone has him changing direction.
Trying to avoid anyone stepping on his white brogues as he slips downstairs and into the air warmed by breath and body heat, Mateo sticks out like... well, like Mateo at a boxing match. Still, he spots Koa easily enough (read: by standing on a crate to check out the fighters) though eyes perfectly lined with dark blue kohl, and one brief look at him tells him he's either having a really good night or a bad one.
"Koa! Come stai, fratello?" he shouts, before realising it's come out in entirely the wrong language. "Why are you beating up that bear man?" He tries again, though his voice is largely lost in the clamour of other people.
But before he can ascend a fire escape decorated with ribbons to the little loft bar he'd like to fall out of later, he's jostled, quite abruptly in fact, by a group shoving their way into the 'massage parlour' next door. Mateo hears the words massacre and Dragon and pretty boy, and gods, it's either his father or his fucking friend, and that alone has him changing direction.
Trying to avoid anyone stepping on his white brogues as he slips downstairs and into the air warmed by breath and body heat, Mateo sticks out like... well, like Mateo at a boxing match. Still, he spots Koa easily enough (read: by standing on a crate to check out the fighters) though eyes perfectly lined with dark blue kohl, and one brief look at him tells him he's either having a really good night or a bad one.
"Koa! Come stai, fratello?" he shouts, before realising it's come out in entirely the wrong language. "Why are you beating up that bear man?" He tries again, though his voice is largely lost in the clamour of other people.
if anything could fall at all, it's the world that falls away from me
