((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.
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.