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@arinbhuva-blog
carabishop:
“What can I say, you made for the easiest target.” She took a sip of champagne, “Do you mind if I try and see who else I can take out? That was more fun than I expected.”
“Don’t get a blood lust, now. I’m not especially good at hiding bodies,” Arin’s joke came out more dry than intended. “Anyway, uh, go off and win this thing. Maybe we’ll get something out of it.”
carabishop:
“My dream’s always been to run the show.” She’d thought if they could put their little argument behind them, the night would be fine. But the conversation was going nowhere, and she could tell he didn’t want to be here at all. “You know, it doesn’t really matter.” She smiled at him, and reached down tearing the flag from his belt. “You were a cruise ship director.”
A smile crept up on Arin’s face. “I should’ve known you were a killer,” he scratched his head. “Can’t trust the ones you love...”
carabishop:
“I don’t know if you’re a Charlie.” Her face scrunched slightly, but she tried to smile regardless. Besides, she didn’t expect this conversation to go on very long. “We just have to make it work. Charlie and Sam. The reality show contestant and the-?”
“Uh...,” Arin took a moment to remember what he’d read in his folder. Obviously the night didn’t mean much to him. “Cruise ship director. You were on a show? Sounds like your dream.”
miloxbeckett:
“Rocks. Margarrrrrrita Rocks.” Milo introduced himself with his alias, rolling the R’s extensively with a giddy smile. He wanted to say how much he was hating this–I mean, a cocktail waitress? Magarita Rocks? –But honestly he was having too much damn fun. “I’m young, hot, and the things I can do with a cherry stem would blow your mind, babe.”
“Alright, I’m in a relationship, buddy,” Arin took a step backward. He wasn’t sure he was loving this game.
carabishop:
“Who, me? Samantha.” Cara held up the name tag, which she’d stuck to her clutch. It’s how she usually handled fancy dinners, clutch in one hand and champagne in the other. No chance she was sticking the cheap sticker onto this dress. “You can call me Sammy, maybe Sam. I don’t know. Which do you think?”
“Aw, the name Sam fits you,” Arin smiled, hoping a night of pretending to be other people would take Cara’s mind off wanting to murder him. “Charlie Charge, by the way. Cheesy, but it’s an alliteration, so I’ll take it.”
carabishop:
“You didn’t think of this?” Her voice was soft for a moment. Arin had never been the type for grand gestures, but she’d thought maybe for this he’d made an extra effort. “I don’t care that you didn’t buy the ticket, you could have used my credit card for all I care. But you lied to me! You lied about our anniversary!”
Arin buried his face in his hands. He knew she wouldn’t take it well, but he was expecting something more passive aggressive that he could ignore for a few hours. Shaking his head, he looked up again, but his eyes were anywhere but on her. “Listen, I just wanted to...make up for things. It’s not great feeling like you always owe your significant other for something. But I hate lying to you; you know I do.”
carabishop:
She bit the inside of her cheek. He might have been right, maybe she was over-reacting but his immediate defensiveness was a red flag. But jealous? Come on. He had to have known. “I just don’t know why you kept it from me, we both know you did. Did you think I would be mad?”
“I just didn’t think it was important,” Arin wrung his hands, sitting on the bed with his back facing her. “You seemed perfectly happy thinking I bought the tickets and that this was my idea.”
carabishop:
She nodded at the statement, a thin smile appearing on her lips. It was completely hollow to the trained eye. “Will he be joining us for dinner, or anything? I just want to be prepared in case there are any more surprises.”
“God, Cara, no. I won’t even see him again if you don’t want me to--I didn’t know you were so jealous of my friends.”
paris-graham:
“Why thank you. I take that title with pride,” Paris said, grinning at him. He was still sleepy, but he was finally starting to wake up a bit, even if the inside of his head still felt like cotton. It wasn’t exactly a pleasant feeling, he’d have much preferred if he has been on whatever Arin suspected him of being on. At least then it would’ve been fun. “Of course, Coffee’s God. They better have soy milk or I’m going to have to file a complaint.”
“Oh, right, what would you do without your organic soy,” Arin chuckled a bit. He’d never had enough money to make decisions about what he ate, regardless of allergies or health. After stumbling along for a bit longer, Arin finally found the coffee shop. “Hey, at least it looks quiet.”
silversterling:
“Of course, you will,” she let out a quiet laugh before continuing to speak, “When you want to cash it in, just look for me and I’ll see what I can do.” When it came to favors, it seemed to be hit or miss with what she could do. It would take more fingers than she had to count all the times she had lied for others in the past, and that had always come in handy. “I’m Jayne, by the way.”
She nodded her head as she brought the cigarette back up to her mouth. She held it between her lips, freeing up her hands so that she could rummage through her bag. She found the familiar shaped box and pulled it out, holding it towards him.
Arin never turned down a favor, and he never wasted one. Growing up, favors were one of the few things he could use to get ahead. He’d always cash them in. He’d never forget. “I’ll be sure to find you when it’s time, then,” Arin took a step closer. “Arin.”
“Thanks,” Arin took the cigarette, shoving it between his lips and fiddling with his pockets before pulling out a lighter. Cara hated this habit, so Arin hadn’t been smoking much lately, but this was a cruise. He was getting enough fresh air to make up for the nicotine. “Now you have to pretend like you didn’t see me smoking. That’s not the favor I’m cashing in--just human decency.”
carabishop:
She raised her eyebrows at his quick subject change. “Convenient. That’s one word for it.” Honestly, she didn’t know if she would have been thrilled to see Paris even with a heads up. But this deception, no matter how sloppily executed, just made everything so much worse. “Have you talked to him yet, I’m sure he’d love to see you.”
“I ran into him, yeah,” Cara had always been bad at masking her anger--at least toward Arin. He could always tell when he’d upset her, and lately that wasn’t a rare occasion. “Look, it’s no big deal. This trip is still about us.” It was only a little white lie.
carabishop:
“I’m pretty sure everything is still there. I might have just shifted it.” She twisted the shower supplies so all the labels faced outwards, waiting a moment before trying to change the subject. “You’ll never guess who I ran into earlier. Your friend, Paris.” Finally she stepped out of the bathroom, leaning against the wall in an attempt to be more casual. “Crazy coincidence right?”
“Oh, yeah, uh...turns out he...works on the show. Pretty convenient, I guess,” Arin rubbed the back of his neck. When he’d gifted Cara the tickets, he had failed to mention he got them for free from Paris. To see Paris. Not for Cara. Arin fiddled with his suitcase some more, removing her things and trying his best to avoid the subject. “Oh, there’s what I was looking for. Turns out you didn’t take anything out. My apologies.”
paris-graham:
“Has that ever been in question? I’m an art student, I have amazing taste.” Sure, he dropped out of art school pretty early, but Arin already knew that, so he didn’t feel the need to say that he’s a former art student. It wasn’t like it was something he could just shake off, really. Art school stuck with him. Paris let his head drop onto Arin’s shoulder, mumbling mournfully, “I swear mate, I swear I thought it was non drowsy.”
“Yeah, you’re the best art school dropout I know of,” Arin failed to mention that he, too, dropped out of school--not that his degree would have done him any good. Him and Paris both seemed to be making their way without proper degrees. Paris had a good gig on the show and Arin had, well, a rich girlfriend. Arin sighed, dragging Paris along as gently as he could. “Good thing coffee fixes everything.”
paris-graham:
“Hm, coffee. Have I told you lately how much I love coffee? I love coffee, and I love you for suggesting coffee,” Paris said as a grin stretched across his face. Coffee was truly one of the many loves of his life, even if the cafe wouldn’t have the imported ethically sourced brand he usually drank at home. “Walk? Maybe, maybe not. You’ll just have to catch me if I fall.”
“You love me and coffee. You have good taste,” Arin grinned. Paris was one of the few people he joked with like this. Arin started walking ahead toward where he assumed the cafe was, but stopped to wait for his old friend. Carefully, he set a hand on the man’s shoulder. “I don’t want to end up having to fish you out of the water. Do I want to know what you’re on this time?”
paris-graham:
“I still think you’d make a great stripper, if you ever wanna make a bit of your own cash on the side,” Paris said, giving him the dopey smile of one with a nice dose of over the counter medication. “Coffee?” Some of the life seemed to come back to his face, and he attempted to semi-successfully stand up. “Please, coffee. Where?”
Arin snorted in protest at the idea of him being a stripper. He opened his mouth to argue, but shrugged it off instead. “I definitely saw a coffee shop when I was wandering around earlier. Close by, I think,” he pushed himself up from the railing, standing straighter before Paris. “You sure you can walk?”
paris-graham:
“You know, there are faces that need blushin’ and all that shit,” Paris replied, waving his arm tiredly. He was still rather out of it, not having slept off the medication completely. If this was how the cruise was going to be, he was screwed. “You look good. I’m glad you’ve taken the starving part out of starving artist,” he said, as he peered up at Arin blearily. “Me? I’m dandy. I just need like, five more minutes maybe.” He yawned, blinking at Arin sleepily.
“Yeah, well, Cara’s quite the provider,” Arin cleared his throat, mad at himself for mentioning Cara so early in the conversation. “Or, I could buy you coffee and we can do a bit of catching up. Unless you’d rather sleep.” He grinned down at his friend, shaking his head at how out of it he looked.
carabishop:
Cara popped her head out of the bathroom where she’d been organizing her shower supplies, “Oh yeah, I couldn’t find space for my sweaters. You’re usually such a light packer, and one of them is probably yours.” She turned back into the bathroom, matching his loud volume, “You don’t mind, do you?”
“You didn’t take anything out of my suitcase did you?” Arin scratched the back of his head. He didn’t like people touching his things--not even her. Regardless, he shrugged it off. “I mean, yeah... It’s fine.”