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The thing about having lived a life as long as Elias has is that it becomes very easy to fall into a routine. And as much as he enjoys his job, his institute and tormenting his employees, even he can admit that it is at times quite tedious.
After all, what would be the point of living forever if he never tried anything new?
Sometimes his after work outings are to exhibition openings or lectures at the British Library. They’re interesting and enjoyable - the kind of respectable events that a man like him would be expected to attend.
On other nights, he likes to explore the parts of London’s nightlife that are a little more off the beaten path. He’s been to warehouse raves, sweaty dungeons, and gigs in the back of bars where everyone eyes the strange man in the suit suspiciously.
Tonight he’s attending a cabaret show. Nothing like the ones he’d seen in previous lives, if the flyer he’d found taped to a lamppost was anything to believe. It had promised a whirlwind night of drag, burlesque and booze! Next to a photograph of a grinning drag queen with her skin painted lime green.
Elias swirls an overpriced glass of cheap wine as he watches the show. It’s pleasant enough, a mixture of makeup, lip synching and pantomime-esque strip teases. He laughs at the jokes and applauds when a queen in perilously tall heels manages a rather impressive death drop. It’s shaping up to be a decent but uneventful night out when the lineup’s only drag king walks onto stage.
The first thing that makes Elias pause is how out of place he looks. He’s not sparkly and colourful like the others, but dressed head to toe in black, complete with dark eye makeup and shiny doc marten boots laced right up to his calves.
The second is how strands of the Web linger around him, and how as he begins swaying his hips in time with the music, those cobwebs seem to drift away. There is something about this performance, about all the eyes watching him, that makes the man shake off the influence of the Web.
Now that is interesting.
The man reaches up and pulls the tie from his long hair, shaking it free. A woman at the table nearest Elias whoops appreciatively. The music is darker and angrier than in the other acts, the man nearly spitting as he moves his mouth to the words. Elias watches appreciatively as the man shucks his battered leather jacket and drops it to the floor as if he couldn’t care less about it. The knowledge comes to him unbidden, that he had found it in a charity shop for two pounds, and that it was one of his most treasured possessions.
His shirt follows next, velcro hissing as it separates revealing the two pinkish scars on his chest and the black dog collar snug around his throat. There’s a smattering of hair leading from his belly button to his navel. The crowd busts into applause. The man grins cockily, swaggering to the edge of the stage and thrusting his hips forwards as he begins to work his belt open. Elias leans forwards in his seat.
Then the man looks out across the crowd and their eyes lock for a moment. His hands falter on his belt for a moment, skipping half a line of the song before he drags his eyes away from Elias. His real name, the Eye supplies, is Jon. Jon continues admirably but his confidence seems a little more fake than before.
As the song reaches its crescendo Jon grips the front of his tight, tight leather trousers and yanks. They tear away from his body and he is left standing, posing triumphantly in his collar, lacey black underwear and his boots. The crowd bursts into applause, but he doesn't seem to notice. His chest is heaving. He keeps looking at Elias who raises his glass to him.
After the show finishes and the performers have taken their final bow, Elias drains the final dregs of his glass of wine. He watches as the performers, still in various levels of makeup and costume, emerge from the dressing room. They’re swept up in hugs and praise from their friends and family who’ve come to see them.
When Jon trails behind them, Elias is struck by how different he seems off stage. He’s dressed in a ratty band shirt and an even rattier pair of jeans, his dark makeup smudged from sweat. He’s hunched forwards, looking around the room nervously like a child at an unfamiliar birthday party. Nobody came to the show for him specifically, it seems. None of his friends could afford to take the train down from Oxford. Elias grins, abandoning his empty glass on the table and sidling up to Jon.
“That was quite a performance,” he congratulates. Jon averts his eyes, and probably flushes a rather fetching colour underneath the foundation and painted beard.
“Thank you,” he replies bashfully. It’s night and day from the confidence he’d projected whilst on stage.
“Can I buy you a drink? Anything you’d like.”
Jon bites his lip, then checks his watch. He’s clearly calculating how long he’s got before he needs to be at the coach station for the long journey home. Elias tries not to let a smile twitch at the corners of his lips as Jon decides that actually, maybe he will have a drink with the handsome man, what the hell. He deserves a treat after handing in his dissertation.
“Yes, please. I would like that. “I'll have a- uh -“ his eyes scan the bottles lined up behind the bar for a moment ‘- vodka cranberry, please?” Elias nods and turns to order both of their drinks. When the bartender places them in front of him, Elias takes them before Jon can grab his own. He beckons Jon with a finger wrapped around a glass.
Jon trails Elias back to his table. It’s clear that he’d prefer they have this interaction standing by the bar, but his feet are sore and a cold drink is the only lure Elias needs to coax him to sit at the small round table. Jon sits with his rucksack tucked between his legs like a nervous schoolboy. It’s really rather cute.
“How long have you been performing? You’re rather good,” Elias asks. Jon sits a little straighter in his chair at the praise. As much as Jon’s stage persona couldn’t care less what others think of him, it’s clear that the real Jon really does. There’s a sort of puppy-ish charm about him that makes Elias wish absently that he had kept his collar on.
“Oh! Uh, thank you. A little over a year now? Mostly shows in Oxford but recently I’ve had the chance to come down to London which has been rather exciting.”
“Student?” Elias asks politely, like he doesn’t already know. Jon nods.
“Just finished this year, actually. And what about you? What do you do?”
Elias waves a head dismissively. “I mostly just sit in an office all day. It’s why I enjoy coming to events like this. Keeps me young.”
“You don’t seem that old,” Jon remarks. Elias barks out a hearty laugh which only doubles when Jon panics and apologises. Elias waves him off.
“It’s alright. I’ll take it as a compliment.” Elias smiles into his drink as he watches Jon’s eyes shift guiltily under his dark makeup. It’s not black on his lids, Elias notices, but a lovely dark purple which compliments his eyes. Eyes which keep glancing at Elias’ face, then quickly away.
He’s wondering what his grandmother would think of him if she could see him. He’s not sure if she’d be more horrified by him prancing round a stage almost nude or letting older men buy him drinks and chat him up. Hell, Jon’s not sure what he would think, if he’d been told in first year that this was what he’d be up to after finishing uni.
The venue has quietened down a little now, with only a handful of tables still seated. The bubble of chatter has become a murmur. It feels intimate.
“You know, if you’d like to make up for the grave wound to my ego, I’d be delighted to learn more about you.” Elias keeps his tone light, but lets a hint of flirtatiousness into his voice. He’s sure that being too forward would cause Jon to disappear off to Victoria coach station and never set foot in London again. “What led you to cabaret?”
Jon takes a nervous sip of his drink, face only scrunching a little at the taste. Elias doesn’t blame him, he’s never liked the taste of vodka all that much either. Jon only drinks vodka cranberries, he knows, because his ex-girlfriend used to drink them and they’re not too expensive.
“I always enjoyed drama when I was at school, but I didn’t really find much chance to perform once I left. A friend invited me to a burlesque show for a laugh and I found myself enjoying it more than I expected.” Jon shrugs. “I guess the rest is history.”
What he doesn’t say is that it makes him feel in control. He picks all his own songs, assembles his own costumes and comes up with his own choreography. As long as he shows up for his tech slot before the show, everyone involved is happy to let him do what he’d like.
When he steps onto the stage he can dictate how other people see him - he can be confident and sexy but remain completely untouchable. He doesn’t have to worry about his if people hate him or if they want him in ways he can’t want them back because they’re just the audience and they can look but they can’t touch.
Elias smiles, and refocuses his eyes on Jon, rather than looking through him. “I’ve always appreciated the artistry of a good burlesque show. The nudity is a bonus, I suppose.” He winks, and that makes Jon chuckle. It’s a little nervous, but he’s not making an attempt to leave. He’s never let someone buy him a drink after a show before, but he’s rather surprised by how much he’s enjoying this.
“To be honest, the nudity doesn’t really do anything for me - never has. But sex sells I suppose!” They both chuckle at that. “There’s a lot of talented and creative people in the cabaret scene putting their own spin on drag or burlesque. I mostly just enjoy the performance aspect of it.”
“I’m surprised to hear you say that, you know” Elias leans forwards, letting his voice become low. ”It was really quite the show. Easily my favourite act of the night.” Elias lets his eyes rake over Jon appreciatively. Jon shivers and Elias knows that the hairs on the back of his neck must be standing on end. Neither of them can quite tell if it’s from fear or something else.
“Ah- well- I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” Jon says, then winces at his unintentional double entendre.
“Tell me, do you have any more shows lined up in London?” Elias rests his chin on a hand, tracing shapes into the stem of his glass with the other. Jon wilts a little, like he’s afraid to disappoint Elias. Privately Elias finds that idea delightful.
“Ah - no. Not at the minute anyway.”
“Pity. Well, if you are down in London in the future, I’d be delighted to see you again.” Elias reaches behind him for his suit jacket and pulls a business card from the inside pocket. He holds it out for Jon to take. “Please do keep in touch.”
As Jon takes it their fingers brush, warmth against warmth. Jon nearly drops the card.
He nearly drops it again when he reads it. He’s not looking at Elias' name or number. He’s reading ‘ Head of The Magnus Institute’ over and over, worrying the corner of the card with his index finger.
Jon knows of the institute and what they study. He has - Elias realises to his delight - even thought of applying for a research position there.
And now the head of the whole organisation has seen him in his underwear.
Elias watches with amusement as Jon’s mortification fights with his curiosity. He’s certainly handsome on stage, projecting confidence and bravado, but there’s something about the way Jon looks when he’s nervous that Elias can’t help but admire. Teeth bite at his lower lip and his hair falls prettily in front of his face.
The part of his mind that is all Beholding tells him that Jon would look beautiful terrified.
Elias lets him squirm for a minute before he finally takes pity on him.
“It’s been a pleasure to meet you Jonathan, but I’m afraid I do have to be getting home.” Elias extends a hand and Jon shakes it in a daze. Elias brings his other hand up to Jon’s arm, touching bare skin just below the hem of his t-shirt sleeve. “I do hope you’ll stay in touch.” He allows himself one stroke of his thumb against Jon’s skin. It turns to gooseflesh at the barest touch.
Elias leaves the venue feeling very pleased with himself. What a delightful evening this turned out to be! He chuckles to himself as he walks to the nearest tube station.
He wonders how long it will take for Jon to notice that he’d never actually told Elias his name.