Noah
He was utterly colorful, but he didn't carry himself with Cyan's loud, bright energy.
Instead, he had a sort of dramatic elegance to his movements, floating across the polished floorboards rather than walking, his long silk scarf trailing behind him like a cape.
Every movement felt like a purposeful performance for an invisible audience.
When his eyes fell on Cyan, his face dropped into an expression of deep, theatrical despair. "Non," he said first, his voice a low, melodic purr. "Non, non, non—"
He crossed the remaining distance between them with his arms thrown wide open. "Where have you been? I thought you were dead, Cyan! I nearly held a small, private service for you last week!"
Cyan stepped directly into the embrace, a genuine smile breaking through his makeup. "I was unavailable, Étienne."
Étienne pulled back, holding Cyan's face between his hands as he inspected him closely.
"You look absolutely terrible," he said with an immense amount of affection.
