Carlos laughed a little, wrapping his arm around Gael's waist as they went into the bedroom, then releasing him so Gael could push him towards the bed. "Yes, well, I am uneducated," he said, as he sat down on the bed, tugging Gael towards him, "and you're just cursed with having to teach me all about art." Well, some art. He was well-educated enough when it came to music, and theatre. He'd suffered through some ballet performances. But movies weren't exactly something he'd paid much attention to.

They kissed, and he smiled at the words. He knew enough French for that, he thought, and his fingers sifted into Gael's hair as he pulled away slightly. "Je t'aime aussi," he murmured, smoothly enough that one might wonder if Bas Novak had been slipping in French lessons somewhere. Then he groaned, his eyes closing for a moment before they opened again and he watched. Watched Gael slide to his knees, and shifted his own legs apart to make room for him. "If you do this, I may not be much good for you later, love," he murmured. He was twenty-six, but he was also pretty drunk. Recovery time wasn't exactly going to be the usual.