He's intrigued, and more than a little turned on, by smirking dark eyes that meet his own in shared appreciation for the absurdity of it all. That the other man is tall and broad-shouldered, with salt-n-pepper hair, and a build that reminds him of Harry doesn't hurt in the slightest. Harry hates these parties even more than Karl, which is why he always stays at home while Karl's left to go stag, but he enjoys hearing Karl's recaps of the evening, and even more about Karl's exploits. Especially if said exploits include someone young and pretty. Looking again across the room into a smile that's so hot it should be illegal, Karl thinks he might not be able to satisfy those particular requirements this time around, but somehow he doesn't think Harry'll mind. When the other man beckons Karl over with a nod, it's a no-brainer to snag a glass of overpriced wine from a passing waiter and make his way over. "You look bored." Up close, the man's even better looking, with an aura about him that's part rough sex and part teddy bear, and a voice that could be in porn. "Not anymore," Karl grins, and sticks out a hand. "I'm Karl." "Jeff." The handshake is firm, lingers far too long, and is hot enough to boil water. "Feel like cutting out?" Oh yes, Karl thinks, as he drains his glass before snagging Jeff's hand to drag him out of the room, he'll definitely have a great story to tell Harry when he gets back home.
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