(no subject)

It was nearly a week later that Matthew made arrangements to meet with Gabe again. The suit he had forced the Cellist to leave behind had been dry cleaned, and was hanging in the closet by his garage door. Matthew was off from work for the following day, and he smirked to himself as he turned a flute glass in his hand before putting it up with the rest.

He was something of a vain man. Matthew liked things in the proper places. It was not a compulsion. If they were out of place, he did not put up a fuss. He just liked them better the way he wanted them.

The sound system had the radio tuned in to a random station, background sound he hardly noticed. The artists and songs go  unnoticed.

He didn't care how Gabe managed to get there. Metro, Cabbie, walking. Hitch-hiking. He told the other man if he wanted his suit back, he would come and get it.

For his part, Matthew had just gotten out of the shower. He had a pair of black slacks and a pale blue dress shirt pulled on. Untucked, no belt, two articles of clothing and a bottle of water. sprawling back on the couch, he shifted, adjusting to a more comfortable position, and flicked a button on the remote. The tele was still on the channel Gabe left it on, and if that was not a telling sign of how little he used the impressive digital HD display, well-

He rested the side of his face against his palm, propping his head up as he took a swig of water. It was complete shit. And mildly entertaining.