Yes, the weather was rather pleasant for a change, however, that did not, by any means, imply that one Éloi Desrosiers was feeling pleasant himself. Au contraire, the mere fact that he was out and about in broad daylight, at the ungodly hour of almost eleven in the morning was reason enough for the twenty year old to feel rather... indisposed. Currently sat at a window table in the charming little café he had come to frequent as of lately, the handsome blond was impatiently tapping a slow soothing rhythm on the wood of the table. He was definitely not in the highest of spirits, and for whatever reason all sorts of pitiful creatures came and went through the café, and it only served to unnerve him even more.

But, in all honesty, Éloi was merely anxious—anxious to meet the fabled Monsieur Renwick, of whom dear Aria had spoken so often. A past student of hers she had privately tutored in the arts of Etiquette for a few months in the past year. And whomever Arianne deemed to speak of -whether in good or bad terms- meant that the person in cause was worthy of his interest. Whether as an amusement—to mock and despise or a a new shiny toy—to maneuver and mold, remained to be seen. Nevertheless, when Aria had offered to put him into contact with an interesting young man as a conclusion to their discussion of extending Le Masque and, possibly, offering the club a more innocuous sister, Éloi had been most intrigued.

So here he was, shockingly early, dressed for the occasion - which, in all honesty, was such a terrible bore; business meetings left little room for haute couture - and most excited to meet his possible new partner. Arianne had been vague, as always. All sly little smiles and melodious chuckles, she hadn't left Éloi with much of an impression. But, she had said that the young man was handsome, from a good, if rather shady family and, in his lovely cousins' own words 'a spoiled, rich, cocky little boy with enough good looks to make an impression and a particular sort of charm to support it, but lacking, altogether, a sense of limitation, responsibility and intellectual refinement'. It was more than enough to get the young Desrosiers interested.

There was also that little piece of gossip according to which the boy had been disowned by his family and was currently forced to face the cold, harsh world all on his own. Quel dommage. On one hand he seemed to be a rough diamond in need of some polishing, on the other hand, Éloi could not possibly throw away the opportunity of toying with such a character. Breaking him down to his basest of forms and building him anew in a shape of his own choosing, was a very desirable little project. And Éloi loved his projects.

He recognized him in a second: tall and lean, blond and pale—that aristocratic air about him, if only a little dented, but definitely handsome. Éloi was on his feet in a second, gesturing to the young boy to approach him. "Monsieur Renwick, if I am not mistaken?" he smiled charmingly, if only a bit dangerously. He extended his arm and firmly shook the other man's hand. "Éloi Desrosiers" he added, smile still in place, but his eyes subtly traveled over Renwick's features. My, definitely handsome, almost painfully so, Éloi thought, and couldn't help arch one perfectly defined eyebrow.

"S'il vous plaît take a seat"  he gestured to the seat opposite himself , while settling himself back in his own chair. "I have not dared taking the liberty of ordering for you, monsieur" he chuckled softly, a sweet tone to his voice, flattery and mindless polite chit-chat being one of his fortes. "Coffee is a very complex business, and tends to be characteristic in its own form to every individual. Our common acquaintance" he smiled, all white, glistening teeth "my most exquisite cousin, proclaims she can tell you everything about a person by how they take their coffee. However, I believe we can both safely attribute that to her area of expertise, and not at all to tastes in coffee, however much of a coffee connoisseur she tries to pass herself as" he chuckled softly, eying the young man intently, his glance slightly predatory.

 "Shall we order, before we embark on our tedious journey?" he asked sweetly, shuffling one menu across the table, before opening the one set in front of him.

Like a moth drawn to the bristling flames of a campfire, Ryder Renwick was drawn to days where the sky was grey, the biosphere humid and rain crawled at a snail’s pace down windowpanes. Today was not such a day: the sky was a clear cerulean, white wisps of clouds hung low and the sun was bright enough for the eighteen year old to slide his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose as he prepared to leave the flat. Dropping his arms through the sleeves of his black coat, Ryder’s green eyes curiously fell on Balthazar, who was on the couch, one arm languidly tossed behind his head, the other holding up a book. Balthy’s brow was creased in frustration, his cheery red lips moving without emitting a single sound as he memorized something regarding spell damage. Legs lazily spread, his entire body stance was slightly seductive –but since Ryder had moved in, he’d made sure not to make Balthazar uncomfortable: the topic of their kiss was untouched, their bodies never brushed together awkwardly and he tried to not even sit too close when they watched the telly together. On the surface, their relationship was the same: they still laughed, they still shared private jokes and even stayed up long into the night chatting about gibberish or planning conquests; but like a butterfly right out of the cocoon, Ryder felt as if he were in a brand new world and he had not yet mastered the rules.

“I’m off to the interview,” He said now, making quick work of sliding his sleeves up to his elbows as he leaned against the doorframe, head falling just slightly forwards so as to allow the sunglasses to fall down the bridge of his nose. Balthazar pursed his lips and held up a hand, fingers spread wide, in the universal sign for give me a minute, please. Ryder dragged his tongue along his top teeth, enjoying the slightly sharp edge of them against the muscle. After an instant, Balthazar glanced up, blue eyes as intoxicating as a tall glass of whiskey. Throat suddenly dry and heart thumping annoyingly against a rib, Ryder delicately dug into the back pockets of his jeans and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. His best mate frowned, but apparently decided not to complain: the habit was a new one, born out of the belief that, with a fag stuck between his lips or the faint scent of tobacco to his hair, he would seem rather more interesting. Lighting up now, he kept his eyes on Balthazar.

“Good luck,” The way those bloody lips moved in synchronization with each syllable was sinful, and Ryder found himself talking a long drag from the cigarette; smoke tickled his lungs and he was tempted to cough, but he was getting better at this smoking business with each passing hour –and each pack of the five he ingested every twenty four hours. Balthazar had resigned himself to paying for the vice, but did so with much complaint –which both amused Ryder, and made him feel loved: for only a person deeply and madly in love with a man would cry at his deathbed.  With a snap at his thoughts, the eighteen year old composed himself –knowingly admitting to himself that if there was one vice, one obsession, he needed to quite, it was Balthazar.

Standing straight, he nodded his thanks as he curved around the couch –and battled the temptation to drag an arm along Balthy’s shoulder blades-, steps carrying him to the front door and out the flat. There, he paused and took a few minutes to finish the cigarette, thoughts and desires crashing through his mind like they only did for the hormonally driven. When the last ember burned, Ryder crushed the fag against the sole of his shoes and crushed it in his palm –to be tossed in the street once he was in the street. Playing with his shoulders until he managed to find the right balance between at easy and contrite, the eighteen year old pressed a hand against the lime green walls of the hallway as he conjured an image of Diagon Alley in his mind.

A twist and a pop later, Ryder’s feet were hitting cobbled ground, and the symphony of moving bodies, the clack of heels and the clatter of disjointed voices rushed in to meet him. Quickly gathering his stance, he took a second to gather his bearings, before turning to the left and beginning to walk. He was late already, but that didn’t precisely mean he would hurry: his steps wide but careful, he strode forwards with all the precision of a stallion in a horse show: all pride and power, head high, green eyes cold and nose slightly wrinkled, as if inhaling an unpleasant scent. He looked haughty, but it got the job done: despite his current situation, Ryder knew he was better than anyone around him, and they would do best to keep their place.

It wasn’t long until he pulled to a stop before the familiar shop: with its slopped, red bricks and large, arching windows wrought with iron Alohomocha stood out against most of the other shops in Diagon Alley mostly due to the harsh, yet oh so pleasant, aroma of coffee and fresh pastries that made their way through the door; for an instant, Ryder’s lips churned into the pout of a five year old scolded for troublemaking, as he pondered on his almost empty pockets –but then he was stepping forwards, through the open door, coldness and propriety overcoming him once again. He’d been in the café before, and the mixture between the dark cheery of the floors and light red of the walls held no interest for the eighteen year old, as his eyes quickly scanned the tables for the man he was looking for.

Arianne Desrosiers had always somewhat reminded him of the private tutors in old, muggle films: Father had hired Arianne to tutor Ryder on the intricacies of the art of Etiquette, for he’d apparently believed his son had not yet mastered them. The eighteen year old still remembered the hot, summer afternoons spent learning about matters that were so trivial as to be boring, and so obvious as to be idiotic. He’d felt as if he knew everything she taught, yet  he’d managed to be all smiles and manners –if only to get her far away from him as early as possible. It was a surprise, therefore, when the letter had arrived, and Arianne had all but tossed him to the lions by offering a business meeting with her cousin.

As Ryder’s eyes fell on the blonde, Éloi Desrosiers seemed to notice him as well. Chiseled cheekbones, full lips, long, blonde hair and a certain quality to his eyes that set a broke a chain of adrenaline into rushing through his veins, the man Ryder was here to meet was certainly attractive. It had been curiosity at what precisely anyone would desire to discuss with him about business that had rolled him into the meeting, like a fly caught in a spider web, but perhaps it would be pure and unadulterated attraction that kept him there. The eighteen year old let his hands sink almost lazily the front pockets of his jeans, the pack of cigarettes rubbing against his knuckles as he managed to keep his walls down and his presence at ease. Desrosiers seemed kind, all smiles and good manners and a certain air of exuberance was emitted from him –yet something in his steel, grey eyes spoke of danger, of mystery and intrigue and a harsh shell beneath. Still, rather than be frightened, Ryder felt the corner of his lips twitch just slightly into a smirk, as he let his head bend in acknowledgement and approval.

“It seems there’s no need for me to introduce myself,” Casually pulling his right hand from his pocket, Ryder grasped the man’s offered hand and shook it almost delicately, green eyes on the man’s face. It amused him to watch those grey irises inspect him, almost like an Auror inspecting a crime scene, and when éloi arched an eyebrow so did he, a teasing yet light smile on his lips. As their hands broke apart, Ryder suppressed a roll of his eyes at the French the man spoke, instead opting to move towards the indicated chair and sit down. He kept his back straight and his shoulders aligned, but his face remained at ease, his eyes kind and not at all inquisitive as he stared into Éloi’s face –despite the slight aura of danger, there was something so intoxicating about the slightly older man that when he chuckled, Ryder smirked, and when he spoke, the eighteen year old nodded, agreeing. It wasn’t simply physical attraction: it was immediately obvious that Éloi Desrosiers knew what he was doing.

Accepting the offered menu, Ryder glanced down at the words, although the wheels of his brain were churning as he tried to decide what type of brew would be most beneficial to order. “Now, now, Éloi,” The use of the man’s first name would hopefully indicate he felt comfortable and at ease, as he smiled playfully at the man, looking up from the menu. “Was that a critique of Arianne’s coffee?” He winked, and tossed his head just slightly back as he laughed –enough to add emphasis, not enough to be noticed as an act. Again, his eyes fell on his menu, and after a few seconds he tapped his tongue against his teeth in appreciation and grinned widely –like a naïve first year at his first Hogwarts feast- as he tapped a digit against the plastic fold. “Cappuccino!” Ryder could not yet manage to actually prefer the beverage, but it would possibly make him seem innocent and weak –and somehow he wanted to give off just that idea. All pleased and content, the eighteen year old snapped his menu closed and placed it at the edge of the table, folding his hands on his lap. “I must say, though, I’m eager to see what this is all about.”

Upon hearing the use of his first name, a vein in Éloi's temple twitched violently and his gaze turned fierce and malevolent for the fraction of a second. He had employees, partners and investors twice his age that had the common courtesy and sense to address him as Monsieur Desrosiers, or Mister Desrosiers or, at least Desrosiers, but never one so shameless as to address him by his given name at a first meeting, nonetheless. Especially, when, he had called the younger man, - where younger ought to be underlined - by his family name and used an honorific, as well. However, there were appearances to be kept, and goals to be met, so Éloi merely smiled politely. And if an eyebrow thought to raise slightly, in derision and slightly disgusted shock, well... he could not be blamed for it.

To further add to his annoyance, Renwick had the gall to wink at him, after subtly insulting Arianne. And it was one thing for Éloi to tease his own cousin, but another, altogether, for someone to agree, or even make a remark of their own. So, it shouldn't have come as a surprise when his bright smile faltered a bit and he raised his eyes to watch the man intently through his eyelashes. "Mais non. Arianne actually makes an exquisite coffee, deep roasted Arabian coffee brewed in a Levant with a dash of cardamom, or delicate vanilla coffee brewed with the help of a French press" he explained in a tone that might come off ass merely informatory, but rather, a thinly veiled insult. "I was merely pointing out to her coffee purist status" he said closing his menu and depositing it at the edge of their table.

"For example, she'd say that one that prefers capuccino is the sort of person that prefers to start things rather than see them through with all that dull detail work, rather oblivious, but warm-hearted. However, take one's age and gender into question, and you might assume that the person in question considers him or herself sophisticated. But that was ten years ago" he said in an amused voice. "She'd also think it an insult to the art of coffee-making per total" he smiled dangerously, his eyes glinting as if to dare him to say otherwise. "Capuccino cannot possibly be called coffee anymore, but rather a coffee-based warm beverage" he finished with a smile and a nod of his head. "Ah, but that's merely what Arianne thinks. And as I've said... she can be awfully wrong at times" he finished, crossing his legs under the table and leaning against the back of his chair. He was seconds away from teaching the boy a lesson, and not as pleasantly ash he'd usually go about it. Arrogant little sod.

As soon as the double espresso was settled in front of himself and the capuccino opposite it,  Éloi straightened his posture and extracted a dossier from the case at the foot of his leg and placed it on the table. "Well, then, Monsieur Renwick, shall we got on with our little... talk?" he insisted on continuing to use the man's family name until he was given permission to do otherwise, that was the proper thing to do and the boy needed to learn that. Éloi was actually outraged that Arianne's lessons had obviously failed to make their way through Renwick's skull.

"While my father and family are well known corporate moguls, I chose to go my own way and so, at the current moment I am in the business of entertainment venues and catering industry. My first establishment has been and continues to be a success and so after a conversation with Arianne and my investors, I have decided to expand the business with a new establishment" he said sipping on his espresso.

"While the venture will remain under the umbrella of my brand, it will be different in terms of services offered and targeted public and so the management needs to be chosen wisely as to suit the direction of this new location. We will offer the capital needed for the creation and opening of this new location, and while there will be some standards the club will need to uphold to as to represent the interests of our brand and trust, the management and direction will be at the latitude of the owner our trust will appoint" he continued to explain, extracting a set of papers from the dossier and putting them in a pile next to it. He finally raised his eyes to look at Renwick and all seriousness, and no smile, he clasped his hands over the dossiers and leaned back on the chair.

"My cousin has kindly informed me that you might be the person we are looking for to run this new venture" he continued, raising an eyebrow, silently asking him if he was indeed the person they needed. "While my investors do not agree with the fact that I tend to appoint inexperienced young men and women into such positions, I have come to the conclusion that the area we are working in tends to need originality and a fresh mind. After all, who else but young minds know best what other young minds look for in terms of entertainment" he chuckled softly and took another sip of his espresso.

"The venue we are thinking of is a nightclub in the middle of wizarding London, namely Diagon Alley. And while our first location caters to the... crème de la crème of society, we hope this club will be more accessible to the world at large, not as far as to let the first beggar enter, of course, but something along the lines of middle class" he would not say it out loud, but Éloi was on the brink of saying or disowned little spoiled brats. He smiled absentmindedly at his own thought and let out a long sigh. "Well, Monsieur Renwick, that would be my proposition. Before we continue with our conversation, I'd like to know if I have caught your attention" he hummed bemusedly.

With a small snap, Éloi’s menu also came to rest on the table, as Ryder pulled off his shades and placed them on the surface as well. The eighteen year old was amused at all the deliberate consideration of what coffee one took, and of the analyses the slightly older bloke made of the drink he’d decided to order. But it showed only in the slight hint of a smirk at the corner of his lips, as he kept his eyes wrinkled curiously and again placed his hands on his lap. Somehow, though he wanted to come off as calm and at ease, he found his body tight and woven into the many stances that had been burned into his brain almost like the Dark Mark that he knew Death Eaters used to have drawn on their arms. It had been a difficult process of learning and perfecting, one that had started when he was still young, continued through Arianne Desrosiers and only potentially ended when Father had thrown him out. Like a cow being branded with hot iron when purchased, Ryder’s mind had been molded and such lessons were not hard to get out of one’s system. Yet he was grateful, now, for he was certain he had it in him to know just how to fight back.

“Or perhaps I just like cinnamon?” Ryder tipped his lips nonchalantly, as if he found the whole matter entirely trivial. The glint of danger in Desrosiers’ grey eyes was more prominent than it had been seconds before, but it was toying with danger that amused the eighteen year old. The knowledge that he could manage to make a person hate him, only to then flip the table and have himself be adored was an intoxicating world of possibilities. “I’m sorry, but I frankly do not agree that there is that much to be said about different ways of brewing coffee, nor do I agree that one’s choice in such masters reflects greatly on their personality,” The innocent act was quickly flying away, his face serious and as mature as he could manage, a facial composure that clearly indicated that he did not believe himself a small boy to be push around and molded anymore. Bu then he smiled pleasantly and lifted a finger, waving it lazily in Éloi’s direction. “Not that I mean any disrespect to yourself and your cousin,” He said, dropping the hand and letting his fingers calmly drag around the frame of his shades. “We all have our own beliefs and are all entitled to them,” It didn’t matter that Ryder was more the type to consider his own opinion much above those of anyone else –he’d toed the line enough, and he’d long ago learnt that in these interactions it was best to give as much as you took.

There was a slight instant of silence before their brews were delivered, and Desrosiers moved into the business aspect of their encounter. Carefully picking up his spoon and dropping it into his mug to stir his cappuccino unnecessarily, his green eyes watched as the other man pulled out a file and placed it on the table. When Éloi spoke, Ryder found himself slightly amused at the pressured formality of using his last name, but he kept quiet as the blonde came to explaining the reason for their being here: a nightclub. His mug at his lips, Ryder watched Desrosiers over the brim of it, as the man spoke about his proposition, going through a lengthy explication before finally asking him a question. Taking one final sip, and therefore managing to make the man wait for him, the eighteen placed his cappuccino down on the table, picked up a napkin to tap it against his lips and then glanced up at Éloi, his expression all hard lines and business –or, at least, what he believed wizards looked like when taking care of a business transaction.

“First off, and considering my Father has made it clear he no longer considers me a Renwick, please do call me Ryder,” He stated simply, toying with the idea of using the man’s first name once again –but he’d noticed the annoyance spread across Desrosiers’ face when he’d previously done so, and as his heart beat against his ribs he decided he rather play nice for now. The entire idea was entirely alluring; enough to make the eighteen year old forget for an instant that he was deeply attracted to the bloke before him. Still, one finger lazily dragged around the brim of his mug, as he pretended to consider the offer before slowly nodding.

“I do believe I’d be interested, Herr Desrosiers,” He used the german effortlessly, dropping into the correct accent with that single world, only to then return without a single issued to his British intonation. “I believe I should warn you that, other than going to my fair share, I am not experienced in the management of any type of business,” Ryder picked up his mug of coffee and took a sip, considering for an instant before shrugging. “But I believe I am in need of a job, and this opportunity seems perfectly fit for me.”

"You should consider marrying into an old pureblooded family" he said amused as he took another sip of his espresso, raising his eyebrows over the rim of the cup. '"You could take your wife's name. Then you wouldn't have such problems, Ryder" he smiled, containing his need to snort as he drawled the boy's name in mock seriousness. He quickly wiped his smile off his face, leaning in the back of his chair and putting his elbows on the edge of it behind him.

"You may call me Éloi," he said inclining his head forward, making sure to spell out his name slowly, Eh-loi, as you would with roi, the French for king - so he'd not have to deal with any butchering of it in the future. "I'm glad to hear you are interest, Ryder" he smiled tightly. "You should not worry about experience, I know what I am dealing with. You wouldn't think I would've drafted this proposal without first making some inquires, would you?" he asked chuckling softly, looking into Ryder's eyes, only to realize how positively intriguing they were.

"You will receive adequate training and some of the staff at our current location will join you at the new venue." Éloi wouldn't say, of course but that was also a way to keep an eye on each and every movement of their new little investment. Because it was an investment, a rather risky one at that. Éloi was not impressed with the boy so far, on the contrary, quite disappointed, but he had to admit he was rather intriguing. Apparently you could take the money from the rich spoiled brat, but not the arrogance and pretentiousness. Well, not so far, they couldn't.

"Well, then" he said leaning over the table, pushing the contract on Ryder's side of the table before clasping his hands together. "You have a week to look over the contract, or have your lawyer—ah, pardonnez-moi" Éloi cut himself short. The boy could probably not afford a lawyer at the moment. How sad. That had not been intentional, of course, but it had been amusing nonetheless. "However, I have no pressing engagements today, so if you feel you are sure in your decision, we can go over the contract now" he asked with a polite smile. He'd rather have this done as soon as possible. Éloi was itching for a shiny new toy—of the human sort.

The extremely exaggeratedly sweet taste of the cappuccino washed down his throat as his eyes hooked on Éloi over the brim of the mug, satisfied when the man waved away any worries of lack of experience. Ryder Renwick had no interest in working, but in his present situation he was smart enough to know he had no choice –and couldn’t help but find it ironic that the entire reason he’d been disowned had been his unwillingness to work for the Renwick business or do any type of work whatsoever. But life had had other plans for him, and he would simply have to learn to roll with the punches and always manage to come out on top; it was something he was certain he could do, even if the choices he had to make rather went against his own desires. Owning a club, however, was not something he imagined to be even close to hard labor, so he had to be certain Éloi would hire him for the task at hand: if he did, money would be at hand, but he’d hardly have to put any physical effort into it. Bloody hell, managing a club even played along with his propensity to sleep during the day and be awake throughout the night –whereas other jobs tended to be quite the reverse.

Ryder slowly pulled the cappuccino from his lips, letting the mug press down on the table with the barest of scraps –and ignoring the positively alluring scent of pastries that would have made his mouth water had he not been in utter control of his body. His green eyes remained trained on Éloi’s irises, a soft smile painting his face as his shoulders rose and fall in the barest of shrugs. “I couldn’t be certain you’d done your homework,” One of his hands settled down on the table, thumb and index finger breaking apart to form an L that the mug settled easily between, as his other arm crossed over the edge of the wood and against his chest, his head cocked just slightly sideways. “And I wanted to be certain you walked in on this aware of all the possible issues that would could come up,” His smile was pleasant and earnest, even though his words were lacking in any type of truth behind his motives. “I wanted to be certain you’d have no possible unpleasant surprises awaiting you,” Honestly, though, there was little doubt his lack of experience would come up during the preparation of this venture, and Ryder wanted to make sure his arse was covered from being fired for having carried on false pretenses.

The eighteen year old did not move at all as the contract was pushed over to his side of the table, his gaze remaining on Éloi and not faltering the least bit when lawyers were mentioned; inside, his pride was wilting like a flower with no sunlight, but on the surface he simply cocked his eyebrow carefully and decided to pretend like his lack of economical possibilities was nothing more than a minor issue. “I’m certain in my decision,” He countered –and though there was still a sense of innocence and kindness on his face, his voice was hard and full of determination. Éloi was walking all over him, and he was rather unhappy about that. He needed to gain the upper hand in this game once again, but he wasn’t yet quite certain how to do it –unless he found any clause in the contract that he deemed needed to be changed. “If you’re not in a hurry, I’d be content to go over the contract now, for certain, Éloi,” Glancing at the man before him, his mind came up with another trick –trivial and rather immature, but hopefully something to toss the man off his game. Leaning back in his chair and moving his arms to fold them over his chest, he slowly moved one of his legs under the table until it was pressing against one of Éloi’s. “Oh, sorry,” He stated, quickly pulling it away and sitting up as if embarrassed.

"I'm certain there will be no surprises whatsoever once you are finished with your training" he said with a tight smile, a dangerous glimmer in his eyes. "And, after all, that's what contracts are for, mais non?" he continued, schooling his expression to stay firm, yet polite as he tapped the cover of the dossier. The contract was nothing if not a pact with the devil, and Éloi was betting on Ryder's currently miserable situation to push him to sign the papers without much fuss.

The long-haired blond had a hard time reigning in his chuckle as he noticed the boy's pitiful attempt at a distraction. Instead he remained unmoved, merely raising the corner of his mouth in amusement and tilted his head backwards, to give him a curious squinted look. "Pas de problème" he eventually said noticing the drawing silence. It was immature at best, but rather curious as to what exactly had the boy meant by it. It certainly merited further inspection.

"Very well then" he smiled, positively brimming with happiness at knowing his commentary had struck a chord, however well the boy tried to hide it. "Well then, if we are going to be here for a while, might I interest you in the most exquisite moelleux au chocolat you've eaten in all of the United Kingdom?" he asked closing his eyes, recalling the perfection of said dessert and inhaling deeply to let out a small whimper. "The crust is stupendous—not too hard, not too soft, enough to melt into your mouth, with a liquid heart of pure blissful dark chocolate that simply envelops your entire senses" he explained in a dark low voice, as if he were talking of matters completely different than the one at hand. He eventually opened his eyes, a shade darker, not open all the way and smiled invitingly, tilting his head in question.

If the boy wanted to play... he'd get his game.

In school, Ryder had been the best at what he did, a master at his own games. But ever since he’d graduated from Hogwarts, he was discovering that, like a new born baby tossed deffensivly into a world crueler than anything it could have imagined, he was playing in new territory full of people who were as proficient as him. They seemed better, but he was certain this was only because the game had changed and he did not yet know the rules. And so, as Eloi stared at him with an amused look and through squinted eyes, and Ryder spread his legs as wide as they would go as if trying to be certain not to touch the older man ago, he was quite aware that his manuver had not succeeded –and he felt himself growing rather tired of his losses. But still, he managed to hold Eloi’s gaze for the few minutes that passed between his apology and the bloke’s heavy french informing him it wasn’t a problem. But there was, at least for the blonde –for, not only were his attempts to gain the upper hand failing, it also seemed rather obvious that Eloi might not be attracted to him, which was certainly not something Ryder was used to. Still, he forced himself to smile as if embarrased, and gave a soft nodd of his head.

And then, the other bloke made an effort, and as Eloi’s eyes closed and his head tilted slightly back, Ryder’s green orbs found themselves entirely caught by the slightly alluring sensations of it all: the words spoken in such a tone that they almost seemed to be entirely about something far different than dessert; the heaviness to his eyes when they opened again; the inviting look that simply made Ryder wand to shag the man right then and there. He found himself unsure of where this was going, but forced a soft, innocent smile to his face. “Sounds exquisit,” He said, his own tone of voice rather low, husky. And then his eyes turned slightly downcast as he sighed, wrapped a fist around his mug and shook his head. “But I couldn’t,” He muttered, as if hating the words but finding nothing else to say. “I can’t impose on you to pay for everything without giving you something in return,” And if there was quite a bit of suggestion in his eyes when he looked back up at Eloi, it really wasn’t his fault.

"Well, hopefully, you'll be giving me a long, fruitful business partnership soon enough" Éloi said with a little wheeze, that was almost a scoff and a quirked eyebrow. It seemed Ryder still didn't understand this was Éloi's game and he was merely a pawn in it. He supposed cockiness, indeed, suited Monsieur Renwick. It was... rather endearing, actually and it would certainly help him out in their business endeavor, but the young man needed to learn when and on who to use it. Precisely because of his arrogance, Éloi wanted to see him meek, adoring and possibly blushing.

"It's an investment" he continued more seriously and with a little, tight smile just as he was gesturing for an employee to put down their order. As soon as that was done and dealt with, the young businessman straightened in his seat, patting at an invisible crease in his trousers. "Well then, shall we go over the contract?" he leaned across the table to open the dossier at the pages in question and if his fingers happened to brush Ryder's wrist, and his lips quirked upwards just a little bit at the contact then so be it.

"It's really all rather standard" he said conversationally (it really wasn't). "We'll be investing in the new location and subsequently in you, as well and all you have to do is make sure everything runs smoothly, protect our interests and, of course, our image. Feel free to leaf through it and let me know if you have any concerns or questio—ah! And here's our lovely dessert" he beamed at the Patissier, who in turn glared back and muttered something, rudely shoving the plates on the table.