PSL: for necrozoetic

[fucking_gentleman]

For an organisation like the one which Harry headed, locating a single individual who was previously famous took very little effort.

He sat on the information for a while, because he really did have other things that needed doing, follow up surgeries and calibrations, actual work, overseeing the rebuilding of the organisation, though it was that very fact which took him on his travels, scouting possible recruits, cleaning up loose ends while he was there, sometimes with his bodyguard, more often not if he could escape the clutches of the young American.

When he found himself in Hargreeves' old stomping ground, he was on business, had a week in town and nothing like a week's worth of work.

Which was when he sent a text off, with a simple invitation, with a time, date and the location of a high end coffee house.

Not a queen, but maybe you'd join me.

Comments

[substances]

It had been a fun little text exchange, but after it petered out, Klaus hadn't been expecting much from it. Sure, the whole 'it's easier for me to find you' bit had been a little creepy, but that's kind of thrilling in its own way. Especially when accompanied by conversations about good experiences and getting dick. Yep. Thrilling enough to jerk it to a few times, now that he's getting sober enough to have a bit of a sex drive again.

The only thing more thrilling than that, honestly, was getting a text from the same number a few weeks later with an invitation to some coffee place that's obviously that guy. The one who seemed sophisticated and well-spoken and probably super hot. And older. And hot. So Klaus spends the hour or so before he heads out to the coffee house changing clothes over and over trying to find something that's sexy but not like, slutty, and carefully applying eyeliner only to wipe it off three times before he gets it right because his hand is shaking.

But eventually he shows up, wearing a T-shirt with a low v-neck that shows off his collarbones, a sorta-nice vest he found in Dad's old stuff, and his usual pants and Converse. His hair is a little tousled but in the careful, cultivated sort of way, and he's trying to square his shoulders so he doesn't look quite so skinny.

Standing at the door to the coffee house, he chews on his lower lip, looking around for this guy.