[Laying out the sad, soggy sweater as best he can, Wilhelm accepts the invitation to sit down. His hands knot together in his lap. He can't help but feel, despite Claude's smiling nonchalance, that he's intruding in more ways than one. It takes a moment for the man's meaning to land, but when it does, awkwardness creeps into his expression.]
Oh, no, I didn't mean... [He shakes his head, swipes a hand through his hair.] I mean, like, yeah, people are always talking, but...
[Claude is some kind of nobility, right? He might know something about living in a fishbowl, though without the omnipresence of the internet it must be easier to keep secrets and escape gossip.
As if picking at the thread of his thoughts, those whispering voices now imitate the endless scroll of online comments. All the speculation on his personal life, everyone a spectator of his most private moments. Twisting everything into a scandal, and scandal into a sport with winners and losers. Wilhelm tries to focus on Claude, on keeping his expression even — if if he can't hear the barrage of voices — but whatever he might have said slips out of his head.]
no subject
Oh, no, I didn't mean... [He shakes his head, swipes a hand through his hair.] I mean, like, yeah, people are always talking, but...
[Claude is some kind of nobility, right? He might know something about living in a fishbowl, though without the omnipresence of the internet it must be easier to keep secrets and escape gossip.
As if picking at the thread of his thoughts, those whispering voices now imitate the endless scroll of online comments. All the speculation on his personal life, everyone a spectator of his most private moments. Twisting everything into a scandal, and scandal into a sport with winners and losers. Wilhelm tries to focus on Claude, on keeping his expression even — if if he can't hear the barrage of voices — but whatever he might have said slips out of his head.]