A Coincidental Meeting

Everly glanced at the bed and then back to Charlot.

"I'm a heavily tattooed, muscled, six foot tall man. I'm sure I'll be fine."

"Exactly, you'll be fine if you stay," he replied, grabbing Everly's glass and refilling it. "I don't bite, no matter what you might've heard."

Everly wanted to laugh. He had heard much, much worse about Charlot. He said nothing, however.

"Fine...I'll stay here for the night. Just lend me a blanket so I can sleep on the chair."

"Why would you sleep on the chair, when there's a large, comfortable bed?" he asked, smiling pleasantly. "Surely you haven't heard I lack hospitality, because that isn't true at all."

Somehow, Everly knew this was coming.

"I only sleep next to my wife, sorry," he replied, crossing his arms over his chest. "So, I'm fine on the chair, thanks."

"We don't have to sleep if you don't want to," he said, handing Everly the brandy, "and if you do, what's the fuss? Pretend I'm your wife."

"The answer is no," Everly said sternly, as he took the glass. He looked at Charlot unwavering, even as he took a sip of the brandy.

Shrugging, Charlot put his cigar in his mouth and unbuttoned his shirt all the way, tossing it to the floor.

"Have it your way," he sighed, flipping his dreads over his shoulder. "You don't have to sleep in my bed."

Everly knew it wouldn't be the last he heard of it for the night. He could tell.

But he sipped his brandy and puffed the last bit of his cigar, still fairly relaxed.

"It's warm in here, you know," he teased. "You don't have to wear all your heavy clothes--we're in private, after all."

Everly removed his coat, and underneath he didn't even wear a shirt. Though it was somewhat difficult to tell, considering that his tattoos engulfed nearly 80% of his body. He discarded his jacket onto the floor, stretching his arms and flexing his well toned muscles.

"Better?" he asked, leaning back and crossing his legs.

"Better for you," Everly replied before he could stop himself. He just smiled.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Charlot didn't seemed bothered; on the contrary, he grinned.

"If I had to explain it, it wouldn't be a very good insinuation, would it?" Everly sipped his brandy.

"Perhaps it wasn't," he replied, draining his glass in one gulp. "I'll figure out what you meant one way or another, but you probably won't enjoy my methods."

"Really," Everly rose an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"Put out your cigar and I'll show you."

"I am content like this," he replied, grinning.

Charlot grabbed it from him and dunked it in his brandy.

"There."

Everly just frowned.

"So much for being hospitable."

Charlot moved to his lap without a word. He only smiled.

Everly watched him, but he didn't speak. He was waiting.

He ran a hand over Everly's tattoos, quite content. Still, he didn't say a word.

"Don't," Everly said. It was quiet, and though he meant it as an order, it hardly sounded one. A suggestion, perhaps.