Of Mercenaries & Love Affairs

"Do you know how awesome you sound?" He chuckled softly, shaking his head. Christophe seemed adventurous, he'd been to so many different places. He was everything Eric wished he could be.

"Eh? I do not own a 'ome. Juzt a truck, a zhovel, a phone, and clothez." He stretched lightly, his eyes on Eric. "And a gun er two." He didnt think his live was anything to be envied. For most of it he had been poor, and now the money he had came from putting his life at risk.

"Don't have a house?" He frowned. "What do you... do for a living?" He arched an eyebrow.

"Do 'ou reeally want to know?" Christophe smiled as he placed a cigarette between his lips. "'Ou might not vant to watch zhee moviee weth mee anymoree."

"Is this the part where you tell me you're a serial killer and then you kill me? Because if it is I would just like to say I would appreciate it if you let me enjoy my favorite movie first. You have to let me, it's my last request." Eric smirked lightly as he glanced over to the other man.

"I am a meerzenary." He stated it as though it were nothing, and to him it was was just that. A job so that he could live, even if others must die. "I keell, and I zteal, and I geet paid for eet."

Eric nodded, thinking this over as if he was going to say something meaningful. But all he said was:
"Well I suppose that's better than the serial killer thing." He shrugged. Of course, he didn't support killing and stealing, but he had no place to judge this man who he'd only just met.

Christophe said no more about it. He had not been wanted, his mother going as far as trying to give herself an abortion to get rid of him. It had not worked and he had been a child she took care of, but never cared for. He had never gotten treats, no love of any kind. In fact she did not care what he did, as long as it did not harm her in any way. Christophe had learned to hate her with a passion, leaving home at the age of fifteen to be away from her. He had no schooling, no nice things. No one would think twice about hiring some broke runaway kid. His first job had just been a spur of the moment thing. He had been on the verge of starving, an it was as easy of sneaking into a home and stealing a paper. But as he did these small jobs, his name became known and soon he was the go to guy when you wanted someone wiped out. It was fine with him. He had never cared if he lived, and had never really considered himself living past twenty. Hell, if it had been his mothers choice he would not have lived to begin with.
"Why eez zhiz moviee 'our 'vavorite?" He wanted to shift the subject, his mood souring as he thought of his life.

Eric wanted to know more but it was obvious the man didn't want to talk about it so he answered the question instead.
"I don't know if you know much about American movies, but it's a classic." He nodded his head. "It's from about twenty or so years ago, but I think it was ahead of its time. It's just amazing... The music, the characters, everything." He smiled lightly.

Christophe found himself amused with how fondly Eric spoke of the movie. "'Ou know a lot about movieez?" He wanted to know more of Eric and his life. What he liked and what he did not.

"I do." Eric admitted with a slightly shy smile. "I'm kind of a movie nerd." He laughed softly.

"Wheere do 'ou livee?" There was so much Christophe wanted to know about this man. He wondered if Eric would be happier somewhere else, out of America.

"What do you mean?" Eric questioned. "Well I live right down this street if that's what you're asking." He nodded, turning a corner and pulling into his driveway. It was a small home, rather secluded. They hadn't passed another house for a couple of minutes now.

"I waz jezt wondeering, eet 'ad been a whilee zince wee 'ad zeen anotheer 'ouze." Christophe got out of the car, checking his phone one time just in case Livius had tried to contact him. As he gazed at the house, he once more realized how different he and Eric were. This man was well organized. He had a home and he seemed to do good for himself. Christophe didnt even know what to call his wreck of a life.

"It's not much but I like it I guess." Eric shrugged as he led the man in the front door. "We can either watch movies on the couch or upstairs in my bed. Either is suitable. They're both comfortable movie watching areas." He smirked lightly.

"'ou peeck." Christophe had never spent much time in well kept homes, so he never thought twice about lighting up a cigarette where ever he was. Pulling one out, he took a couple puffs off of it, glancing around the home. "Eet would bee creepy eef I peeked and wanteed zhe beed." He pointed out mildly.

Eric laughed lightly at this.
"We'll start on the couch and work our way to the bed once it's not creepy." He nodded. He grabbed Christophe's hand and practically drug him to the couch. "Stay here, I have to get the junk food, this was part of the plan." He reminded the man as he disappeared and returned a moment later with an arm full of snacks, sugary sodas, and ice cream, sitting it on the coffee table in front of the couch.

While he was gone, Christophe had made himself comfortable on the couch. This was evident by his mud encrusted boots that rested on the arm of the furniture. He blew another puff of smoke into the air. "Wow...'ou are veery preepared." He remarked as the ma returned with his snacks.

"Of course. I've always been prepared for the day a handsome French man agreed to watch movies with me." He joked, nodding his head as he put the movie into the DVD player and sat beside the other man.

Christophe actually emitted a soft chuckle, watching Eric with a smile. "Eet muzt bee 'our lucky day."

Eric grinned back, until his gaze flickered to the dirt on the furniture left by the man's boots.
"What kind of movie watching establishment do you think this is?" He clicked his tongue disapprovingly as he gestured to the dirt stain. He then sank to the floor, looking up at the man. "Take your shoes off they're so dirty." He reached up to pull them off and sit them in the corner. "I'm washing them in the morning." He shook his head.

Christophe blinked at him, his nose scrunching up. No one had ever taken his shoes off for him, especially without asking. "'Ou beetch!" Yet on his face there was clear amusement. "'Ou do 'ou think 'ou aree?" With a grunt he once more put his feet on the couch. "Eet muzt bee zhe Ameerican coming out een 'ou." There was a moment where he paused, but his gaze flickered back over to Eric in mere seconds. "I am juzt az deerty az my bootz. But eh, eef 'ou plan on mee ztaying unteel tomorrow...I zuppoze I can zacrifice zhem."

"You're right, it must be the American in me." He chuckled lightly as he moved back up on the couch. "You're lucky that I didn't say anything about the cigarette." He teased.

"Eef I couldn't zmoke een 'ere, I would mizz all thee moviee." Christophe looked appalled by the thought of having to go outside eveytime he wanted a cigarette.
No way in hell.

"I guess I can allow it." He smirked lightly, nodding his head as he curled up on the couch beside the man, reaching for a bag of potato chips. "You can have whatever you want, if you want anything." He shrugged as he pressed play on the movie.