Topic: Behind the Music: Isaac

wonderlandfill

Date: 2018-07-26 19:02 EST
((everything here is co-written with Adrenalize, and these events transpired at the Black and Red Gala))

Kids of the Rich and Famous Circa September, 2017

The fact he was even there had made his skin itch. His father had pulled him into the office that morning and sprung the news on him that he'd be attending the Gala - at least if he wanted to keep that handy dandy credit card tucked into his wallet. The adventurous youth didn't like the idea of having to maintain responsibility, much less doing a job he enjoyed less than his own to live the way he wanted to, not gliding peacefully on his father's money.

"Why don't you just go yourself?"

"I have somewhere to be outside the city this afternoon, I won't be able to attend."

"So why don't you ask Izzy?"

"Because I'm asking you, Isaac."

"No, you're telling me."

"Only because I know you'd say no if I asked." His father's knowing smirk made Isaac scowl.

Looking around, he took in the other fine suits and designer dresses that clung to the bodies of others with money, of high standards. Stuck up rich folks with their noses lifted, talking politics and speaking oh so eloquently to one another. He couldn't help but scowl despite the plastered smile he'd slapped on long enough to shake their hands, representing the Clark family by his presence. He'd seen one familiar face that earned a more genuine smile, and he'd shaken the hand of money-bags she'd been attending with before walking off to rub elbows and shake hands with other upstanding gents and ladies of the city, introducing himself and making pathetic small talk until they bored him to the point of making an excuse to dip out of the conversation.

The party itself was great. The scenery beautiful, with the theme of red and black that had his eyes looking everywhere. He fit in with the rest of the drones, wearing a black suit with a pinstripe red button up shirt and a silky black tie with elegant designs embroidered into it in red thread. Even down to the shiny black leather dress shoes, he fit in.

The constant socializing was getting to him, and he found himself slipping from the masses of bodies on the dance floor, the gambling tables where the people with money were blowing it on indulging vices of risk and (on occasion) reward. Away from the tables where people were drinking, laughing and eating fine treats served by the waiters and waitresses dressed as elegantly as their surroundings.

Passing by one of those waiters, he swiped a Sinner's Delight from one of the trays in passing, muttering a half-assed "thanks" before breaking away from the party for some peace. The drink didn't last to his destination as he swallowed it down and abandoned the emptied martini glass on a table in passing, just to scoop up another from the next server. That one made it as he found himself on the sidelines of the party, reaching a balcony railing that overlooked the city from the top of the hotel where the party was being held. Raking his fingers through those wild coils that he never tamed, unlike his father, he let out a breath that puffed his cheeks while he patted down his pockets for his pack of cigarettes.

Two glasses of champagne, then three, then four. How many had it been" Meadow wasn't paying attention anymore. Her head was full of bubbles and that put her in an excellent mood, put a smile on her face.

She was here for all the same reasons — her father had insisted. Something about her image, about their image. She'd stopped paying attention once she'd heard what she'd needed to, that there would be free champagne and an appropriate outfit in it for her.

And the outfit was certainly...appropriate. Killer red and so short it should have been illegal, it showed off sunkissed legs too shapely to be perfectly natural. The whole body was like that, part personal trainer and part methamphetamines, a little too perfectly sculpted, a little too pristine. The dress did its job, proving it for her without quite crossing the line into trashy, though it may have danced along it precariously.

There was a pink blush on her cheeks, bodyheat and too many bubbles, and she escaped a boring conversation in the name of getting some air. She claimed to have seen someone she knew as a reason not to be accompanied, and it was for that reason that she stalked towards a complete stranger as confidently as you please and slipped her arm into the crook of his. "Oh my gosh, hi!" She said a little too loudly, then leaned in, whispering into his ear. "Go with it, please." Louder. "It's so great to see you! It feels like it's been forever."

He'd managed to slip one of the sticks from the box, fit it to his lips and light it just as he felt someone's hand on his elbow. He grumbled something unintelligible as for a moment, he expected someone that knew him or his father. Who wanted more boring conversation. Who wanted to know more of his youthful thoughts on the upcoming election he didn't have a care in the world for. But it was the feminine greeting that he didn't recognize that had him turning those chocolate eyes on her, set into a natural dark tan that had nothing to do with a tanning booth, only fine genetics and consistent exposure to sunlight.

A brow perked high as he glanced down at the arm looped through his, the cigarette bouncing between full lips as he muttered a questionable greeting. "...Hi..?" Have I met her somewhere or... He blinked at her whisper, even dipped his head as he plucked the cigarette free to not risk burning either of them or dropping it to hear her over the thumping of music lingering from the dance space. The clue that this was an act cued him in and he smirked some as he lifted his head and put on a theater mask of smiles and feigned excitement of seeing an old friend.

"Probably has been," he said loudly, turning more to face her. "Wouldn't be if you weren't so elusive!" Yes, not seeing the fake friend in forever was certainly all her fault! "How you been" C'mere," he insisted, worming his arm from hers to face her completely, vices of drink and smoke in opposing hands as his arms spread to initiate a hug. For five seconds she was actually nervous, concerned that he wouldn't play along. Her expression froze, somewhere between an expectant smile and a hopeful one, but she started breathing again when he accused her of being scarce. Meadow shrugged her shoulders, deep sepia waves floating around her face as she did, her storm cloud gray eyes contrite. "Yeah, it's totally my bad, but I'll make it up to you?"

One corner of her mouth turned up in the kind of smirk that could get a pretty girl in a whole lot of trouble.

Stepping into his outstretched arms readily, Meadow wrapped herself around him in kind, even went so far as to lift her chin so she could kiss his cheek. "It's so good to see you though..." she said as she closed the distance between them, and once she was there against his chest, she smelled like expensive champagne and designer perfume. She breathed a 'thank you'.

"You're going to have to," he frowned at her, looking completely serious, though it slipped slightly as he was fighting not only a smirk but laughter as well. "I mean, it's been sooooo boring," he groaned. But that act of seriousness was at a loss to the smirk she gave him, returned with one of his own that was just as dangerous, shifting the soft features that were almost too innocent into something farthest from it.

Once she'd taken the bait of a hug, his arms wound around the body wrapped in elegant designer perfume and red fabric that were as dangerous as the smirk she'd given him prior. He wasn't expecting the kiss, his expression said so, but he still turned his head some to play along and press one to her cheek in kind. "It's been far too long," he humored her. A sweet gesture of old friends reuniting, but it gave him the opportunity of smirking behind the cloak of that sepia hair and masking his whisper with the loudness of their surroundings, the closeness of their embraced bodies. "You escaping the Stiffs, too?" He questioned, his own scent of softly warm spiced cologne mixed with the heat of sun-kissed skin from the few hours of an adventure he'd managed to squeeze in between the morning talk with his father and the Gala.

"Mhmm," she nodded, her delicate fingers curling into his back as she gave him the kind of embrace you shared with someone you really missed. In the process, she noticed a few things about this willing victim she'd chosen. For one, he was hot. For another, he was in killer shape, which meant he was really hot. For a third, he smelled nice. Like cologne but also the musk of a man's skin when he'd been outside in the daylight. Mmm. Meadow was beginning to think she'd chosen well.

Peeking over the top of his shoulder, she watched the person she'd been seeking to get rid of give up and turn away, satisfied that this was an old boyfriend — or maybe a present one — she'd come across. She watched the figure walk away, and then she grinned up at the stranger she....hadn't yet let go of. "He's gone but....you don't have to stop hugging me if you don't wanna."

The sentiment was shared on scents. The lace of champagne and her perfume tickled his nose, almost as much as her hair currently was, but he didn't seem to mind it. Through the embrace, he noticed a few things himself. The slenderness of her frame, thin but fit that he couldn't help but wonder a few things about. Yoga, maybe? Hm, that means limber....Glancing over her shoulder, he might've glanced to the cigarette in his hand he'd only gotten one puff from, but it was a decent sacrifice to be hugging this particularly good looking stranger.

Oblivious to the person she was trying to get rid of since his back was turned to them, his eyes turned to her when she looked up at him, that coy smirk gracing a small but full mouth, lips parting to spill the laughter her words incited. "Well if that's the case," he shrugged nonchalantly, shifting his arms around her as he collected his drink and smoke in one hand, poising them for easy access to both as he tilted his athletic frame so she fit closer to his side than head on, but remained in her embrace. The arm that was freed from holding one of his items stayed wrapped loosely around her waist so he could turn his drink enough to take a drag from his cigarette finally.

Glancing over his shoulder with a brief dance of chocolate orbs, perhaps seeking the one she was escaping, he came up with nothing and he turned his attention back to her. "Since we've already skipped the handshake and dove right into the intimate shit," he smirked. "What's your name, Houdini?" As he waited, he made sure to get his fix of that drink in the meantime.

wonderlandfill

Date: 2018-07-26 19:04 EST
She fit easily underneath the arm that stayed around her, slipping one of hers around his waist in kind. She too glanced back over their shoulders, but the man was definitely gone, and thank God for that. The way he sipped his drink reminded her that she hadn't brought one with her, and their overtly public display of affection was keeping the waiters discreetly at bay.

"May I?" she said, wrapping her free hand around his glass — and maybe his hand, too—to indicate what she meant. This was another one of those moments that Rhydin positively charmed her ...the whole concept of having to introduce herself was still quaint and novel. "Meadow Starling," she said, sort of waiting to see if that meant anything to him.

If there was any hint of him being bothered by the seemingly PG PDA going on on the outskirts of the party between them, he wasn't showing it. "Hm?" He questioned, turning his head to look at her as she reached, his eyes following her hand as it fit around the glass, brushing over the thumb that was gripping the stem of the martini glass to keep the poised two fingers scissoring the glass. "Fine, but you owe me twice," he teased her, releasing his grip on it so she could have it. Honestly, he had more interest in the nicotine than the alcohol at the moment, and was starting to get a hand-cramp from the way his hand held them both. Now easily accessing his cigarette, he took a drag while she introduced herself.

"...Like I said, I'll make it up to you," Meadow replied, turning eyes that were the color of gunmetal up at him with a promising smile. Hey, he was cute. and the only other people she knew at this party were....preoccupied. She smiled, taking the glass out of his hand and lifting it to her lips. She had no idea what it was, and neither had she asked. It didn't really matter after all, did it' Nothing seemed to.

"I hope so, it was a tragic sacrifice for the greater good," he frowned to her, just hamming it up before he welcomed the vice he truly wanted between his lips for another drag. She didn't ask what it was, and he didn't tell her. Something was telling him she didn't care either way, the name of the drink would be lost to a blasé response. All assumptions, but he let himself think it to be true.

"Obviously, and of course there was nothing whatsoever in it for you," she agreed, her expression as serious as she knew how to make it. The drink - whatever it was - was sweet but strong, and that suited her just fine.

"My expectations of recompense were absolutely void," he lifted his chin. "It was a selfless act, I'm a hero," he might've puffed his chest some like a robin in that moment, gloriously accepting the self-titled claim of heroism before he deflated with a snicker, unable to keep it up further.

"Meadow Starling," he repeated a moment later, squinting as he lifted his lips from the filter, and for a moment, it looked like he recognized it. Then, "....are your parents hippies" That's an awfully bohemian name," he laughed softly, shaking his head. He didn't seem to recognize it. "I'm Isaac Clark, as plain and mundane as it sounds," he snickered, reaching his smoking hand out to tap-tap the accumulating ash from his cigarette over the banister. "So what?s got you bumping elbows with the High Class Stiffs of Rhy'Din anyways?" He looked over to her. "You don't seem robotic enough to be like them," he nodded his curly haired head toward the collective masses.

A brow lifted as she waited for him to finish processing her name. When he came up with the same joke everybody else did, she actually laughed anyway. There was something that was still so charming in the novelty of RhyDin, the fact that nobody knew her here. When everyone is super, no one is. "No, rockstars." She said it easily, correcting him playfully with no hesitation. "I'm from Hollywood."

She sipped the drink she'd pilfered from him, gave him a smile that was a little too punk for princess, a little too princess for punk. She was a masterpiece painting someone had scribbled over in sharpie. "Isaac, huh' That's a good...boring name. I mean. You could have been...Cerulean, or....Sienna."

"Rockstars, even better," he smirked. "Sex, drugs and rock'n'roll?" He teased, that smile dangerously poised on his lips before he polished off his own vice, sucking it down to the filter and then flicking it over the railing. The same hand found residence in his pocket, to avoid that awkward hanging since she had thieved the only thing that would still keep the hand busy. "Hollywood," he rolled the name over his tongue like a familiarly sweet taste. "Been there a few times when I was younger, business trips with the ruse of promising vacations," he said blandly. "Nice place, lots of life at night, and trouble to get into," he grinned, the memories serving him well.

His eyes fell to that smile, the perplexing combination that showed both yet neither for the punk princess. It was the words formed on them that had him scoffing and turning his eyes ahead toward the city. "Not everyone can be a Meadow, Ms. Starling. Around here, being boring can make you unique," he smirked, and the curve of his lips said it was likely his name that would be the only thing boring about him. "So if you feel it absolutely necessary to spice it up, you can call me Zac," he shifted his eyes sideways to her, that smile still poised coyly on plump lips.

Meadow leaned forward on the railing with her free elbow, the martini glass in that hand still. The other was still tucked behind his waist. "It's home. This place is interesting, though." She laughed easily. "You're right ....boring is novel. Anyway, I like Isaac." She sounded out the syllables again, low in her chest like they were....involved in something else. "Eye....zaaaaaac. Mm. Yes. I approve."

She was moving about and he looked at her striking up a lean on the railing, his arm accommodating on her waist with her movements if only because she hadn't let go of him. Making it so she wasn't angling her arm back so far, he leaned his hip to the railing with the slighter turn toward her since she was much more interesting to converse with than the stiffs who only wished to talk politics. "We're a rare people, we have meetings on every Monday to express how ordinary we are in an extraordinary world," he grinned to her.

"Sorry, but you wouldn't fit in there," he chuckled, and then she was sounding out his name like that. His brows swept high on his forehead before he nodded. "I can see that. You seem to be enjoying my name as much you are my drink," he teased, his smile as slick as grease before his eyes lowered to the drink in her hand. "How much of a complex do you think they'd have if I cracked open a can of beer" Enough to cause an aneurysm, you think?" He raised a brow before his eyes swept over the party. "I'd kill for a kegger over this shit," he muttered, shaking his head.

"Just practicing, in case it becomes relevant later," she said nonchalantly, sipping rather deliberately from the rim of his glass, her gaze fixed on his face, as he turned towards her. She tucked two of her fingers into one of the belt loops of his pants as casually as you please.

"I dunno. It might be fun to be boring," she said thoughtfully, her gaze straying away from him out over the twinkling lights of the city below, only to return to his face once more. "I wouldn't know." Her tone had turned playfully lofty, her brows rising and falling as she lifted the glass to her lips. .

Isaac mentioned having a kegger, and Meadow snickered lightly at that. "I don't think I've ever been to a kegger. You're saying that's better than two hundred dollar bottles of champagne for free?"

"Oh yeah?" His lips twitched with the threat of a smirk he was holding back. "Relevant," he chuckled, amused by the sound of that. He didn't seem to be bothered by the fingers in his belt loops, it only incited his fingers curving around her waist a couple inches from her hip. Casual gestures in a not so casual moment, but they bore the outlandish meeting with grace and an air of nonchalance easily.

"Why not give it a shot?" He smiled, "what?s the worst that can happen?" He raised a brow. His eyes followed hers toward the city, then down as he leaned his torso at a sideways angle to peer over the edge and way, way down. For a moment, he seemed fixated on it, the rush of looking down so far and the impulse of climbing over the railing to stand precariously on the ledge was almost too strong. Enough that he tore his eyes away and forced it back to her.

"What?" His brows swept high. "You haven't lived until you've been to a kegger," he insisted. His lips parted as he looked astonished to the comparison. "You kidding me? Two hundred dollar bottles of champagne," he crinkled his nose, "insinuates a bunch of stiffs standing around, talking of elegance and structure, with their noses turned to high expectations. A kegger," he emphasized, a grin growing on his face, "insinuates a bunch of idiots running around with or without clothing with little to no inhibitions. And with that," he leaned closer to her, brows arching higher and higher with a slight tilt of his head. "Leaves almost endless possibilities of excitement." Pulling back, there was an easy smile on his face.

wonderlandfill

Date: 2018-07-26 19:06 EST
She mulled over the comparison. Isaac was looking down at the city and Meadow was looking at him, turning her gaze away from the twinkling lights to take in the line of his profile, a dark silhouette against the starry night sky. Shifting her weight from one expensive heel to the other, her hip cocked just so, pressing lightly into a spot on his leg beside her. She wasn't leaning on him, specifically, but she'd certainly closed the distance.

"Mmm," She rotated the martini glass in her fingers and then lifted it to her lips for another sip. Swallowing, Meadow shrugged. "Well. I guess I'll just have to try it sometime, hm?"

It was her shifting weight that drew his focus away from the view to look at her, to exchange the profile view for a head on look. His eyes found her face a moment before they made a slow descent to the hip that was adding pressure to that spot on his leg. There was a brief and slight twitch to the corner of his lips before he looked back up to her face. No, he didn't mind that hip placement.

His eyes spared a glance to the convulsion of muscle with the swallow of liquor, as fleeting as it was before he gave a smile that had that dangerous sort of charm. "Well, if you're open to new experiences, I suppose I could lend a hand in that," he offered her.

"You suppose?" She repeated the word back to him skeptically, her brows arching, curious. The way his gaze lowered rather deliberately to her throat before that metaphorical hand was extended wasn't missed, but Meadow found herself taking him up on it anyway. Her fingers uncurled from his belt loop only to delicately outstretch into the space between them, ripe for the taking. Her nails, freshly manicured, were painted in a thematic french manicure — black with blood red tips.

"Well now, just what kind of experience do you suppose you can lend a hand with, Isaac?"

"Mhmmmmm," he hummed with a coy smirk dancing on his lips, his head nodding with the sound. "I suppose," he repeated. The proverbial lent hand he'd extended waited as she seemed to consider it, her hesitation read on her face as she caught him looking and he didn't seem sorry for it. His own long fingers curled around her hand and his lean against the railing was pushed off with a shift of his hips. Turning, he used the taken hand and the other arm around her waist with full intent to lead her away from their quiet, isolated spot as she asked.

He spared her a glance, a coy smile before he snickered. "The kind of experiences that come from cheap thrills and questionable morals?" He teased her. "But mostly..." He shrugged a shoulder. "The kinds of experiences that you can't find with the Stiffs and Stooges of this party," he smirked. "What do you say we get another drink?" He asked abruptly, nodding a curly haired head toward the bar. "I'm thirsty all of a sudden," he muttered. "And a cute stranger stole my drink," he narrowed his eyes at her, because it was all her fault he was without a drink now.

"That bitch," Meadow responded immediately, without so much as blinking. She made a show of looking around for that alleged cute stranger, though her body squared up to his as he turned towards her. Eyes like steel wool returned to his face, glinting with faux indignation on his behalf. "Want me to cut her?"

She let him lead her away from the railing, towards the bar. "Cheap thrills and questionable morals are pretty much my favorite."

"She is a bitch," he agreed with her, unabashed in his claim. He glanced at her seeking out the cute stranger thief, and though he fought a grin, it was becoming more and more difficult as he bit the inside of his cheek to the offer. "Cut her" That's a little extreme for stealing a drink....but if you're down for hair pulling and getting the claws out, I'd totally be down to see that," he couldn't contain the laughter that boasted from his throat then, shaking his head.

The journey to the bar wasn't a long one, but it did afford him a response before they reached the edge and managed to squeeze in between the scattered bodies at the bar. "You too' Good. And here I was thinking performing was the biggest thing we had in common," he smirked at her, looking to the tender who asked what they'd like. "Long Island Iced Tea," he told him, looking to Meadow to see what she'd choose.

Meadow laughed. "You should be so lucky," she said lightly, shooting him a haughty kind of grin over her shoulder as they reached the bar and fought their way to the head of it. Weaving deftly between two other bodies, she found a space for herself and then tugged him into it without so much as batting a lash of apology.

Turning to face the bartender, she laughed again at his selection, her brows rising as she tipped her chin up to see his face. "Go hard or go home, huh?" Perusing the bottles on offer briefly, her smile was perfectly pristine, the picture of aristocratic elegance as she ordered her selection with a completely straight face. "I'll take a Screaming Orgasm, please."

"Yeah, I suppose that would count me as lucky," he cut her a sidelong grin before he was being tugged between two other bodies, and hers. One looked at him, clearly expecting an apology she didn't seem willing to give up. "What can I say' She's thirsty," he laughed softly, but offered no actual apology before he gave Meadow a pointed, and greatly amused look. "Isn't she?"

Her reaction to his drink had him giving her a look of innocence, which could be easily pulled off with his babyface were it not for the twinkle of deviousness in his eyes. "I don't know how else to be," he shook his head, those springy curls shifting with each motion. At least....until she announced her drink that had him giving her much of the same look. "I'd echo the sentiment....but I think that goes without saying," he muttered, biting down on his lip to stifle the laughter threatening to come out. "At least you didn't go for the generic Sex on the Beach," he shifted his eyes to her before looking to the bartender. "You heard the lady," he tapped his middle finger on the table as the bartender left snickering, and he struck up a propped lean with an elbow on the bar, turning his eyes back to her.

"Hey," she said with a nonchalant roll of her shoulders, her smile the perfect picture of innocent insolence. "Thought we were going hard?"

Meadow spared a glance at the other person, the one with the attitude. It was a positively withering glance, full of disdain. Her smirk turned derisive. "...Practically parched," she said, in her prettiest posh accent, and very deliberately turned her full attention back to Isaac. "So. Tell me more about you, long lost friend I have so much to make up to."

"Well, I think we've both hit that quota," he smirked, the gesture coy and full of mischief.

The look given to the other had Isaac raising his brows, pearly white teeth collecting his bottom lip to stifle laughter. Meadow clearly had Mr. Attitude beat in the department, and he found great amusement in it. The ploy to keep his laughter controlled diminished with the posh accent shot at the man, and a chuckle slipped out against his will. "Hn?" His brows rose, teeth scraping his bottom lip as it was released when the request was made.

He feigned a look of disappointment, his head tipping forward to peer through those bouncy curls. "You should already know all about me..." Lifting his chin, he turned his face away from her in a shunning action. "I guess our minutes of friendship mean nothing to you," he sniffed, just for a dangerous smirk to curl at the edge of his mouth, and he turned his eyes back to her. Leaning against the bar, he shrunk down some and propped himself on a forearm. "Well....let's see..."

He sighed, glancing up in thought. He kind of hated the request, if only because it was so broad on the spectrum. Shrugging, he lowered his eyes to her. "I'm an Aquarius, I can't stand being bored, I'm a stunt double, and....my favorite animal is the hedgehog." He squinted at her, not giving out his whole life story to a stranger. "Your turn, and feel free to make it up to me any time." That smile should have a disclaimer on it.

Meadow arched her perfectly cultivated brows at him as he chided her for not savoring their minutes together. She might have rolled her eyes but refrained, his smirk prompting a matching one on full lips painted blood red.

"Leo, same, that's super hot and....hedgehogs are fucking adorable." She made a point to look him up and down, steel grey eyes returning to his face expectantly. "Well, we're still here and you're still dressed, so I don't see how you expect me to do any making up just yet..."

Naturally, the bartender showed up just in time to catch the tail end of what she was saying. Of course. He did a little looking over the young hottie who was being so brazen himself, and she looked right back at him, a bratty grin dawning on her face. "Thanks honey," she said, leaning in to retrieve her outrageously named drink, giving him something a little else to be jealous about later. Then she very deliberately hooked her arm around Isaac once more. "Shall we?"

"You know what they say about an Aquarius and a Leo, right?" Oh that smile became exceedingly more dangerous by the moment. "Is it?" He mused, being told his profession was hot, making a mental note to tell his father to shove it. Fuck you, the ladies love it. "They are," he agreed with her. Though his brow perked as she gave him a good once over, and he graced her with the same, lingering at parts until her words had his eyes snapping to hers with a tick of brows.

He didn't get a chance to say anything in return when the tender showed up just then. He glanced to the tender with that smile like the cat that ate the canary. While the barkeep got a view of the front, Isaac's eyes lowered to the sleek dip of her back. The tender should very well be jealous, and the smirk that he gave the man said so as he reached out to collect his Long Island. "Thanks for the drinks, pal." He pulled a money clip from the breast pocket of his blazer, sliding out a bill before easing it over the bar to him. "Keep the change as a tip, and maybe catch a flick later....if ya know what I mean," he winked suggestively.

Her arm hooked him as he returned the clip to his pocket, and that same arm redirected after to loop around her waist, his hand fitting comfortably on her hip. "Let's," he smirked, steering away from the bar with a chuckle as he glanced back over to where they'd been at the railing, then tipped his chin to some plush, comfy seats that seemed to be private and quiet enough. "Let's change up the scenery some, yeah?" His lips found the rim of his glass for a quick sip of that blended drink.

Meadow sipped her drink, letting him direct her. Her gaze lifted to the area he'd indicated, then back to his face. Amusement glinted in eyes like gunmetal, but she smiled as she wrapped lipsticked lips around the straw in her drink, her brows rising.

"Well. That doesn't get us any closer to me making anything up to you, but it does seem....fairly obnoxious Stiff free." Oh, that smile.

With his arm hooked around her waist, his steps slowed as mirth glinted like the North Star in his eyes. His smirk was slow to grow, just as his brow was slow to lift. "You in that much of a rush to get me alone?" He was only half-teasing. "Maybe I should've dragged you to the elevator instead," he chuckled, pausing to take a slow sip of his liquor-blended Ice Tea.

Her shoulders moved in a shrug of ambivalence, her gaze flicking rather deliberately to the elevator bank and back. Revealing Crest kid white teeth, Meadow just smiled and sipped her drink.

They made it to the area with the overstuffed, plush seating, and she slipped out of his embrace only to settle into one side of a large chair. The flutter of her hand seemed to indicate that there was plenty of room left over for him, should he want it.

wonderlandfill

Date: 2018-07-26 19:08 EST
His smile was a stark contrast - white against that natural tan that reflected her own. She looked, but didn't take the bait. In her defense, he hadn't either moments before. The song and dance seemed to tickle him as he chuckled, lifting his own Long Island for a sip. Fair enough.

His arm released her waist as she pulled away from him, his eyes following her with the arch of one lone brow to her choice of seating. Instead of a spacious couch, or even a circular booth, she'd chosen a chair. One surely large enough to fit them both - snugly. The corner of his mouth curled coyly as he switched his drink to his right hand. "Don't mind if I do," he said graciously, as if she'd made a most generous offer.

Easing into the chair with the space granted to him, he made sure not to spill either of their drinks with his maneuver while he was making himself comfortable. His legs spread just enough so the outside of their inside legs were pressed, a brushing of smooth and almost silky slacks against her thigh with the air of simply getting settled in. Contact of shoulders, and his own bicep with the right movements. Close enough that his body heat radiated, and the danger in his smile was charming enough - but still suggestive as he asked, "comfy?" Because her comfort was absolutely in his highest concerns.

To be fair, there were both slender of figure, and the chair might easily have accommodated a literal giant. There was plenty of room for both of them, especially if they weren't particularly shy about an overlap.

Sipping her drink as he settled in beside her, Meadow grinned and directed the lean of her body against him instead of away, her torso angled a quarter turn towards him with the back of her arm resting comfortably against the side of his chest.

"I am," she nodded, tossing her head with faux nonchalance, like there was nothing unusual about sharing this much personal space with a virtual stranger. Maybe for her, there wasn't. "You?"

Something told him neither would by shy of an overlap....Particularly when his eyes shifted over to spy on her getting comfortable herself. A twitch of brow, no more, to the turn and he didn't seem bothered by it in the least. In fact, he only accommodated with the slight shift of his shoulder. Virtual strangers....fake long-term best friends....it was all relative, really.

"Good," he hummed, taking a sip of his drink before she'd asked him in turn. He seemed to truly consider it a moment, his lids lowering into a near squint as he gave a testing wiggle that was hardly considered movement at all. "Hm..." His eyes lowered to the arm tucked between them, and he frowned. "No," he admitted. A heartbeat in between the word and his movement, he was moving his arm out of the way and boldly draping his forearm over her lap, leaving her the option of redirecting his arm above or under her own if she wanted to, but it'd settle either way. The limpness to his wrist afforded his fingertips to hardly touch the outside of that thigh, too. Enough to tickle without the pressure of actually putting his hand on her thigh, and the partial smirk residing on his lips said he wasn't sorry for it. "Now, I'm much more comfortable," he sighed, taking another slow sip of his drink through that unapologetic smile.

His body wiggled against hers, and her expectant smile grew by degrees but did not yet tip over into a laugh. Slender, well manicured brows rose smoothly at his proclamation, her lips pursing around the word "No?" as she echoed him, curious to see just what it was that was a discomfort to him.

Sipping her drink, she watched him drape that arm across her lap, his fingers just barely teasing at the outside of a smooth golden thigh. Blood red lips twitched at this development, but she hid the resulting grin in another swallow of her drink. "Well. So long as you're comfortable, Isaac," she commented, amusement a subtle glint of light in so much steel grey.

Casual in his position in that chair, he idly sipped his drink as if they had been long lost friends after all. "Oh, I'm absolutely comfortable now," he assured her, the corner of his mouth twitching, but he fought the smirk that tried to come out of it. "Being comfortable is important, don't you think?" He raised brows at her, turning his head.

"By all means," he forced his lips to turn downward in a blasé manner, gesturing with a sweep of his hand. "If you need to get more comfortable, redirect your limbs, sit in my lap, feel free," he teased her, having to use his drink as a means to hide his smile - to stifle the laughter threatening to bubble its way up, and he swallowed it down with his Long Island. His drink lowered with a collective sweep of his tongue, refusing to lose any of the remnants as his head turned, sporting a pout on his lips. "After all....it's been so long since I've seen you," he batted his lashes, a dangerous smirk spilling through the facade as his fingers idly drew designs that seemed to have no actual direction or design on her thigh.

"Oh, well, in that case..." It was short work to writhe her way out of the comfy spot she'd made for herself, despite the overly plush depths of the cushions she'd sunk down into. Lifting one hand to prop it on Isaac's shoulder, she used it as the fulcrum she needed to transfer herself from the seat into his lap, dislodging her hand only to tug her skirt back down after the fact. It was possible that any passing waiters or guests had caught a glimpse of her underthings, and it was equally possible that she didn't care.

Wiggling a little more than was strictly necessary, she situated her weight across his thighs and settled down again. "Better?"

"Hm?" He questioned, raising a brow as his head turned toward her, his gaze latching onto her face before ticking down to the hand placed on his shoulder. His arm moved off her lap in the midst of her maneuver, slipping behind her and held up. The other arm shifted to rest on the armrest of the chair, watching her with barely contained amusement until one lid dropped with his grunt. A sound drawn out by her situating weight on his lap that had one muscle in his strong jawline pulsing a twitch.

The eye opened to peer at her when she'd settled, and that arm soon returned to drape over her lap, fingers curling with the tips tucked just under the hem of her skirt. That smirk returned, he gave a shift of his own hips that seemed to be simply getting comfortable, but perhaps it was more payback for her excessive squirming. "Much," he gave a nod of his head before it fell back to rest against the chair, peering up at her. "Comfortable?"

Feeling the press of his hips underneath her, Meadow responded in kind, her back arching as she met his faux thrust in a way that gave no illusions of innocence. Once they'd both settled, she smiled, taking a sip of her drink. "Oh, quite," agreed the glitterati girl, her grin matching the amusement that danced in eyes that were the clear grey silver of the coming dawn.

It was hard to look at him from this position, but that was beside the point. The creep of his fingers just underneath the hem of her dress didn't go unnoticed, but then she didn't do anything about it, either. Watching the milling crowd around them for a time, she saw a never ending line of people cluster around the man of the hour and the blonde who never seemed to leave his side for long. Her gaze eventually drifted back to the man underneath her. "Such a lovely party," she intoned in a soft deadpan. "—Be such a shame if we left early..."

The very corner of his bottom lip was caught in the clutches of a canine, restraining a smirk that twitched his mouth. His eyes drank her in as much as he'd sipped his drink, savoring the view of her arched back that brought less than innocent thoughts to brush the surface.

He worked on his drink while she mulled the crowd, seeming content to have the nearly total stranger using him for furniture. He'd lost interest in the crowd long before she'd swooped in on him, and it didn't stir back up now. Every once in a while, his eyes would tick to someone as they passed by, but it was difficult to linger on other pretty faces or intriguing sights with one already on his lap, with her thigh just under the caress of his fingers.

His gaze turned to her as he held the glass loosely in his fingertips, nearly finished with it. All that was left was the collection of ice and the near sour strength of liquor that had seeped to the bottom. One brow ticked upward at her deadpan tone, and he kept a smirk on tight lockdown for the rest. "Hm..." His eyes drifted from her for a vague glance around the party.

Just when it seemed he didn't have any interest, his eyes flicked back to her and his lips twitched. "No, it wouldn't," he voiced bluntly. "I was ready to leave an hour ago." The ghost of a smile was snuffed out as he finished off the jaw kicking remnants of his drink, stretching his arm to abandon the glass on a nearby table.

"Then what the hell are we still doing here?" Meadow asked, and this time the way she shifted in his lap had more purpose to it than just to tease him — she twisted to look up at him without actually vacating her ever so recently claimed seat. "I was ready to go before we hit the bar," she laughed, holding what was left of her drink up to her lips and finishing all of it in one go as though to prove the validity of her words. She hadn't actually said with you, but her meaning was heavily implied in the double arch of perfect sculpted brows.

The restraint of his smile and laughter didn't last as it spilled freely, at first from her question and then for her admission. She hadn't been so precise, but he read into it. "Mn....I got that feeling." He snickered before he lifted up some, and his eyes thinned with his dangerous smile. "But I also get the feeling you're the kinda girl who gets whatever the fuck she wants. I wanted to see how much drive you got," he admitted, with a nonchalant roll of his shoulders before one hand lifted to push that intense mane of curls from his face. "Also, I had a bet with my brother that I wouldn't last an hour here."

His eyes turned to a gold watch on his wrist, his head tilting as he read the time. "I won by a half hour." His grin was broad, almost cherubic in its false pretense. He also wouldn't tell his brother that the reason for sticking around was because of some hot chick in his lap....though he may admit to her being the reason he left. "Let's get the fuck out of here before the Stiffs drag us into another diplomatic discussion," he almost scowled at the idea, his elbow propped on the armrest and he looked at her pointedly, brows arched high. "If I could have my legs back, that is..." he teased, batting his lashes like the fate of his ability to walk was in her hands....or....more her backside.

She arched a brow at him coolly, her expression reading oh really" even as a hint of a smile tugged at the right corner of her mouth, ruining her reproving look. "Is that so?" She injected as much ice into her tone as she could manage given the ridiculousness of their current situation, the amount of alcohol she'd consumed so far and the fact that no better options had presented themselves yet. "And just what have you won in this little bet, hm' What's the price I've had to sit here acting like I care even a little about this stupid party for?"

She'd made no move to get up yet, but she did lean precariously across his lap, shifting her weight perhaps a little more meaningfully than she'd specifically intended, to abandon her empty glass on the adjacent table next to his. With that complete, she planted one hand on the arm rest, scooted forward enough to have a clear space to put both of her red-soled feet down and got up, lifting herself smoothly out of his way. Upright, she tossed dark sepia waves haughtily, made a show of reaching for the tiny purse she had abandoned next to the chair to check her phone for the time, and likely as not her latest messages. "Thirty extra minutes is a lot of time you're going to have to make up to me, you know."

wonderlandfill

Date: 2018-09-27 19:42 EST
"Yeah, that's so." Her cold tone had his mouth twitching all over again, but he didn't have his drink anymore to hide the battle. His chin lifted even as she questioned his winnings, and he raised a brow. "Something I'd sooner jump off this roof without a 'chute than do," he snickered, shaking his head. "Trust me, for my sake, it's worth it." He seemed pretty intent on not telling her what that bet was.

His mouth opened to say something, but her lean and shifting had it clamping closed. The set of his jaw and the grunt from her efforts to rise to her feet had him eyeing her with no lack of accusation. He was onto the fact that she did it on purpose, but she helped in almost making it obvious. He didn't glare at her, considering her haughtiness was threatening to put that smirk back on his face.

Instead, he scooted to the edge of the chair and rose to his feet, giving a shift of his legs to smooth down his dress pants that had wrinkled from her sitting in his lap, and moving about. "Oh yeah' I'm sure I could think of a thing or two to make up a half hour," he chuckled, shooting her that dangerous smile as he raked his fingers through a lion's mane of hair. "Or....we could always say goodbye to the hosts, get swept into another political debate..." His brows lifted, as if threatening that god awful idea with a jerk of his thumb, an air of innocence spreading over the soft features of his face.

That look changed when his smile came back and he lifted his chin to the doorway leading off the roof. "Or we can sneak away and see how much time we can make up for in the elevator..." His smile shifted, his mouth crooked as he watched her in his passing, a raising of brow as if in challenge while he made his way toward the second, more appealing, option.

"Just a thing or two' Better do them really well, then." She gave him a sidelong smirk and a toss of long chocolate cinnamon waves to go with her warning. Sure, she saw the accusing look he gave her, and sure, she saw how much he had to adjust his pants on her account. Frankly, he deserved it for the way he'd made her wait. She saw that smile on his mouth, the razor blade edge in it. The guy had a devil may care recklessness to him that appealed.

One brow quirked when she questioned. "Yeah, one or two. The less, the more time and attention you can give 'em. Quality over quantity." The sharp smile remained, and his recklessness didn't stop at jumping off heights and breakneck speedometers. Recklessness was in the way he moved, his smile, even the glint in his eyes that said there was always some other limit to push.

"Oh, yeah, definitely. Let's for sure get into another conversation about the economy. Or tax reform. Or something." Sculpted brows rose just ahead of the eyeroll, the way she held her index finger to her temple with her thumb extended to the ceiling and the rest of her fingers folded, the universal symbol for a gun held to her head. "I'd much rather do that than check out the emergency brakes on the elevator..."

He watched her finger gun placement. The way her tone held that smart ass apathy. It brought his laughter bubbling to the surface as he held up his hand in a show of surrender. His steps carried toward her, slow from heel to toe of shiny, expensive dress shoes. "Put the gun down....you've convinced me..." He brought his voice down, lips twitching as he stepped into her personal space with abandon, peering down at her with hazel eyes and close enough to smell the warm, sunkissed scent that always seemed to radiate from his skin. "My only economic interest, at the moment, is in testing the durability of expensive threads."

His head lowered, his hand reaching out to press a warm palm to her hip, fingers curling there as his voice softened to whisper into her ear. "I gotta tell ya....It's taxing..." The restraint of his smirk was left to the wind as he slipped away from her, fingers skirting her back as he started toward the exit in earnest with a coy smile shot over his shoulder. His arm stretched out a handful of spaces away from her, palm turned.

Isaac was suddenly all up in her space again, his hands skating familiarly over her hip. You know, like long lost friends. Meadow smiled, relaxing the fold of her fingers in a deliberate way so as to make a show of "putting down the gun" as he'd asked. She might even have taken it a step further, lifting both hands in a similar show of surrender, but that he'd walked up on her like that and put it right out of her mind.

She breathed. " Mm. You smell good." Looking down at her designer dress, a smirk coiled over ruby stained lips, and grey eyes lifted back to his face with a carelessly dismissive one shouldered shrug. "I'm not actually sure they're durable at all," her voice was a hum at his throat since his mouth was at her ear. "But I suppose we have a patriotic duty to find out?"

He walked away and her smirk spread, but she followed him with a haughty toss of her head. The few steps it took to bring them back together were crossed with the soft click of extremely expensive heels, and she slipped her hand into the one that was outstretched towards her a moment later. "You're a weird one, Isaac," she said in a tone that bordered on incredulous. "I might actually like you..."

"Thanks..?" His brow ticked with an amused smirk, his eyes lowering to her dress in his own assessment. Laughter spilled freely until he forced it at bay, his brows furrowing with the feigned serious expression and a nod. "It's a hard job....but someone's gotta do it," he teased.

Her haughtiness had him chuckling quietly, but regardless of her attitude, she followed in his wake. Feeling her soft hand slide languidly into his, his fingers curled around to draw her closer in more of a guiding manner than demanding. His brows soared toward his hairline as she voiced those thoughts. "I'm weird, that's it?" He sounded just as incredulous, and it amplified with her admission.

He almost scoffed. "What's not to like" I went through with your little plan and stuck to it," he lifted his chin, shifting warm hazel eyes to her with a dangerous smirk. "Not....totally....for selfless reasons. Hot as Hell," he muttered with a soft laugh as he lead them on, keeping his steps cool but steady and just a notch from brisk. He was over this party a while ago.

"Hey, I don't have to like you to **** you," she replied with a nonchalant smile that was as honest as it was utterly unapologetic. "The fact that you play along well does work in your favor, though..." Her smile stretched into a grin, pleased and preening at his compliment even though he'd muttered it at half voice. "Why thank you, Isaac," she smiled, her expression turning coy. "You're pretty aesthetically pleasing yourself..." she added with a flirtatious bat of her lashes.

"Hate****s are a thing," he agreed with a firm nod and a coy smirk. "...A fun thing. But so long as it works in my favor," he snickered with a shrug of his shoulders. "Improvising is one of my skill sets," he jested with a light roll of his eyes. They shifted to her with the perk of a brow. "Aesthetically pleasing" I'm now categorized with a blog?" He laughed, finding amusement in the way she worded things. He'd have to admit, aesthetically pleasing was a new one for him.

"It doesn't even have to be a hate****," she countered him. "It can be an ambivalent ****, an apathetic ****, a You're pretty but I sure wish you'd shut the **** up ****....there are all kinds of ****s to be had." Snickering under her breath, her honey gold shoulders rolled in a shrug. "Here's hoping you're more memorable than most blogs I've read, then..." She laughed, neither confirming nor denying the comparison.

Isaac's eyes rolled to her when she went down the list of ****-worthy notables. The last one got a laugh out of him that shook his shoulders. Blunt, shameless, and on cue, he hardly skipped a beat. "Y'anno, I think that last one is called face sitting, Meadow. But a desirable **** to be had," he flashed her an impish grin before he reeled his head back, looking her over with a sweep of his gaze. "You gonna give me a review" Or unfollow me if I don't live up to expectations?" He snickered, smirking as he straightened.

"Noted," she replied, filing that tidbit away for a rainy day with a smirk. Not the title, mind you, the part where he'd called it desirable. "And I just might, so you better be on your game..."

"Well, I'm gonna have to....or my reputation will be ruined," he rolled his eyes dramatically. As if he cared. As if he hadn't ruined a good bit of it already.

Finding the exit meant finding the elevator, of course. They had the good fortune, or maybe the good planning, to be alone in a car without other occupants, politely declining to join a more crowded car whose doors were about to close when they walked up. As soon as the sleek doors slid closed, sealing them in together, Meadow lifted a brow at Isaac. "So. About that emergency brake..."

Crowded car" Pass. He could wait a few more seconds for an empty car to open its doors, and when it did, he slipped inside with her in tow to press a button with a jab of a middle finger. Instigating a quick take off before others could show up.

With a turn of dress shoes, his back thumped against the glass wall of the elevator in a careless way as he watched her come in, watched the doors closing behind her. His smile the equivalent of a cat eating the canary, his laughter followed suit in a low, impish way. "Don't mind if I do," he hummed, doing two things simultaneously.

One, his hand pulled her in while his upper half slid against the wall of the elevator, stretching a lean torso so he could smack the side of a loosely balled fist into the red emergency button that had the car jolting abruptly and shaking to a stop. It was a jarring feeling that made his stomach sink, but it was the kind of rush like a roller coaster that left him grinning down at her with the straightening of his torso.

Isaac hit the emergency brake just as he tugged her closer, and the abrupt jerk of both motions brought her hard, undeniably up against him. "Well hi there," Meadow smirked, her grey eyes sparkling as they peered up at him. Her legs threatened to go out from under her as the elevator squealed to a stop in its shaft, or maybe that was just her excuse for the way her fingers coiled over his hips and pulled him closer.

A sturdy post to lean against, Isaac was riddled with compact muscle beneath the layers of his suit. His hand was firm, steadying, on her waist as the suspended box they occupied shrieked metal and steel cords. His smile broadened tenfold to the way she pulled him closer. His free hand moved to join the first along the small of her back. "Hey," he returned the greeting, his head lowering with it before he brushed his lips to hers boldly, hazel eyes locked on her storm greys.

The time for talking seemed to have passed, and well....it was only a matter of time before the employees noticed the emergency brakes on the elevator had been pressed. That is, if there wasn't some creep behind the monitors in the security office watching along. With the thought passing through his mind, did Isaac care" Hardly. It only quirked the corner of his mouth before he pressed his lips more firmly against Meadow's, instigated his fingers snaking into her hair and curling around the back of her neck while his head tilted into the kiss, drawing her closer at the waist while his hips pressed into her coiled fingers.

And then they were kissing. Meadow felt a squirm of relief in her belly, she felt like she'd been waiting on that kiss for hours. Kissing him back, she grinned against his mouth, her fingers working to pluck his shirt tails from the waistband of his dress slacks before moving on to the button. There was no time to waste while the elevator still swayed in suspended animation.

Hindsight was twenty/twenty, and it might've been hours leading up to his point. The corner of his mouth curved into a smile mid-kiss, leaving it as suspended as the elevator, though for a significantly shorter amount of time before it settled smoothly against hers once more. As she worked the buttons of his shirt, her outfit made it convenient for him to slide his hand down from her waist, following the curve of her backside to the hem of her skirt.

Bold, and unabashed, he wasted little time in pulling his hand away from her hair to join the one at her dress. He lifted it, curious to see if she was even wearing anything beneath. He'd soon find out as he smoothed his palms over her skin, curling his fingers dangerously close to the triangle of space between her thighs.

He'd soon find out that the scrap of fabric she'd been wearing was small, slinky, ludicrously expensive and almost disappointingly easy to destroy. He'd find out what it was like to take her, this elegantly put together glamour girl in thousands of dollars of haute contour, to feel their bodies move together to the lazy sway of the creaking cables overhead. He'd find out what her mouth tasted like with all those drinks still so fresh on her tongue, what her body felt like where it straddled him, wedged between the piston thrust of his pelvis and the smear of glass that gave a dazzling view of the city.

He'd find out, too, what it was like to rearrange his clothing as she pulled the hem of her dress back down with one hand and unlatched the emergency brake with the flat of the other.

He'd find out what it was like to have her lean back against the wall, the city spread out behind her, perfectly at ease in her state of semi-disarray. Her stormy grey eyes on his face as the elevator glided smoothly to the bottom floor and opened at last to a crowd of impatient would-be passengers. To have her slip one hand back into one of his, lacing their fingers to the hilt, only to bring it to her lips and kiss the back of it affectionately before she led them through the stream of entering guests and out into the night.

"So," she would say, casually afterwards, nonchalant. "Anything else you feel like doing tonight?"