The chatter of people and the faint sounds of music usher Vesper and Evander into Lock and Qui. The space is bright for now. The movie hasn't started. Vesper spies a young couple sharing a seat that, if he turns his head just right, wasn't originally meant to be a seat.
An arguably butch person gets dragged past by a small child, joining a woman and a teen on a couch at an ill-matching wicker table. The quartet squash together on the couch like a family, the small child in the lap of the butch person, the teen squirming out from between the adults to sit on the arm of the couch while the adults cuddle each other and the small child.
As Vesper confirms with Evander that it's okay they're here, Vesper sees the teen laugh and slide down the arm of the couch into the woman, who makes a fuss like she's being squashed, prompting the butch person and the small child to crowd into her. They look like they're having fun.
Evander walks away, heading up the stairs towards heaven only knew what, leaving Vesper alone. Evander passes by one of Quixote's beauties--a young man pouring a drink for an older woman in clothing that was expensive before and is absurdly opulent now. The expressions on their faces make Vesper flush and look away, trying to find a seat.
What he finds is a table with two kids sitting at it, some woman underneath. She is all kinds of attractive and competent, with an accent that does very nice things for Vesper. She thinks Vesper's not too bad to look at, too, if the look she gives him is anything to go by. And she has booze. Tasty booze. Strong booze. Very tasty in spite of it. Vesper finds himself reaching for more as she pulls it away, especially when the little girl at the table begins grilling Vesper for information about who he is. He didn't do anything to deserve this.
Then Vesper begins wondering what Evander's doing, if he's talking to Quixote. Vesper gets drawn in, and the next thing he knows, he's gasping back into awareness in the middle of the performance. Silence falls in the theater. The actors on stage have been caught, mid-motion, by his outburst. The little family stares at him from their couch, blinking owlishly. The expensively-dressed woman titters at her companion, loud in the silence and oblivious to Vesper's embarrassment. As if her laughter were a cue, the theater revs up into motion and sound again. The performers onstage pick up where they've left off--a dramatic climb up a steep bluff.
Vesper blushes as the woman from under the table cozies up to his side to find out what's happening. She reveals that the window Vesper hadn't realized he'd been staring at went to Quixote's office. Of course that's where Evander was.
Eventually, he reluctantly confesses that he thinks Evander may be murdered or fucked. He wishes he could tell which it would be. He's not sure he'd care if it were the latter, in spite of that being a little of his leverage with Evander. If the man gets killed, however, Vesper's in trouble.
When his tablemate scolds at her young companions to watch their language and not use Vesper's as an example, Vesper slips out of his seat. He feels bad for using profanity around the children, but he's got to be sure Evander is alright.
He bursts in to find Evander and Quixote talking about sharing or something along those lines? Evander looks shocked and a bit panicked to see Vesper, which is disheartening. Maybe Vesper should go.
"Oh, this is the one, then? Ohh," Quixote coos, and Vesper revises his maybe to a definitely. He should definitely go. Quixote's quicker than he is, and has closed the door before he can do more than babble and look at Evander in panic. For better or worse, Evander grabs his arm to drag him across the room. It's almost like being wanted.
Vesper takes a few moments to make sure Evander's okay. Vesper could feel Evander's emotions, after all. Quixote declares Vesper precious, which is far more frightening than Vesper really thought it would be. Quixote is intimidatingly pretty and he's pretty sure they could kill him without trying very hard, if Evander weren't here to protect him.
Evander somehow finishes the conversation about sharing, which makes Quixote smirk and stride over, heels loudly clicking, to extend a hand for Vesper to shake. He looks to Evander for disapproval and finds none. He shakes their hand. That is a mistake.
Vesper suddenly finds himself between Quixote and Evander again, but Evander is angrier, Quixote smugger, and Vesper is not himself. He knows it in the way his body moves, in the way his thoughts taste, and in the fact that he's seen this moment before.
He's seeing things the way Blue saw them. Feeling them the way Blue felt them. Evander's hands are harsh on his hips, Evander's cock vengefully thrusting inside him. At his side, Quixote's voice is a sweet enticement, a promise that will be fulfilled, and their breasts are soft and warm against his shoulder.
The moment passes in less than a second and, almost instinctively, Vesper's mind reaches for Evander's. He needs to know what Evander wants. Evander wants Quixote to burn with envy the way he burned that night. Vesper suddenly knows this for a deep, sincere truth, beneath desire for Quixote, for Blue, even for Vesper. Evander wants Quixote to burn.
Vesper can make that happen.
Vesper lets go of Quixote's hand and turns to Evander. Both of them are looking at Vesper like he's a puzzle. That expression on Evander's face almost makes Vesper falter. Almost. Instead, he steels himself and reaches up for Evander, pulling the unresistingly confused man down for a kiss.
Evander doesn't stay confused for long, his hands groping and caressing, his desire washing over Vesper like a flood. It's the first time Vesper's ever before wanted to drown. Distantly, Quixote's voice objects, but Vesper misses what they say. He doesn't care. Evander, however, breaks the kiss, still holding onto Vesper's chin and grinning over his head at them. They feel dismayed behind Vesper.
That's probably what he was going for.