The apartment was everything Kieran had described, an amazing view and an eclectic mix of furniture and art. As Karlshowed me around, I took a closer look at some of the paintings and prints.
“I’ve seen you around Schöneberg,” I remarked between peering at artwork.
“That’s likely. I’ve lived here a while.”
I glanced at him. “You were Klaus’s partner, weren’t you?”
He stiffened for all of two seconds, and then relaxed. “I was—until he decided his future was to be found on the other side of the Atlantic.”
“So he left, and you stayed.”
Karl smiled. “Berlin gets under your skin.”
“But apparently not Klaus’s.” I shrugged. “His loss.” I pointed to a painting done in shades of grey. “Kieran didn’t mention this one.” I murmured.
Karl cleared his throat. “I don’t think he’s really looked at it. And I definitely haven’t told him its title.”
I peered closer. From a distance, the three cocks poking through the walls weren’t all that visible. “Let me guess. Glory Hole?”
He grinned. “He hasn’t seen any of the artwork in my bedroom. Which is maybe a good thing.” He paused. “Dinner is ready, by the way.” Then he glanced around. “Kieran? Where are you?”
“Changing my clothes,” he called out. “I’ll be right with you.”
Karl resumed his tour. “I understand you’ve been showing him around the city.”
“Parts of it.”
“And introducing him to new experiences.”
Aha. “That too.”
Karl led me into the kitchen. “Would you like some wine?”
“Thank you. White, if you have it.” I got the feeling he wanted me alone.
“How long have you lived in Berlin?” he asked as he filled the glasses.
“All my life. I live in Schöneberg.”
His eyes widened. “And yet we’re only meeting now for the first time.” He gave me a searching glance. “So what keepsyouhere?”
Simple questions on the surface.
“It suits me,” I said with another shrug.
Karl tilted his head. “In what way?”
I met his gaze. “It allows for a certain degree of… autonomy.”
He stilled. “Does it indeed?”
I saw his reaction for what it was—evaluation—and I looked him in the eye. Because now I understood the nature of the exchange.
Karl wasn’t making conversation. He was determining not who I was, but what I represented for Kieran, and whether that was something he trusted.
We heard Kieran’s footsteps. Karl’s gaze shifted towards the doorway, the assessment in it smoothing out almost instantly, replaced by something lighter.
I recognised the adjustment, and made my own.