christian.

Christian made a soft noise in the back of his throat, nerves painfully obvious by how he fiddled with the brim of his hat. He shuffled over to the chair where the vest lay and eyed the piece of fabric like it had insulted his mother before picking it up and slipping it on.

He took one look at himself in the mirror and groaned, head falling back. “I look absolutely ridiculous!” he cried, slumping down in the chair that had previously held the vest he currently wore. “This is going to be a disaster.” It was muttered, his arms thrown up and covering his face so his voice was muffled.

“Satine will take one look at me and laugh me all the way out the door!”

Behind Blaine three other pairs of eyes were pleading with baited breath and hands formed in prayer for Christian to take the plunge and put it on.  For all their sake!  For the sake of their art and all their hard work.  Blaine stood closest, chewing his bottom lip like a parent watching if their child was going to spit out their first taste of real food or not.  Would he do it?

Please, please, please?!  YES!  Victory!

He had to hand it to the writer.  His dramatic collapsing onto a chair act was truly a work of superbly encaptured flair.  Christian looked too miserable to point that out, so he let it go and approached him.  Blaine’s expression was one of complete sympathy and desperate warm pleading comfort. “One night.  One chance.  You’re handsome as ever, Christian.”  Bending at the waist, careful fingers gave his cheeks a pinch then a gentle pat soothed the touch away before he stood back up and grinned.  “She’s going to love you.  I promise.”