glass half empty || sawyer & diondra
There’s the carefree tilt to the smile that remains everpresent upon his lips, lips that press as fondly as a lover’s to the rim of theglass as he sups at the drink whilst never quite removing his gaze from theyoung woman before him. Against the continuous onslaught of chaos that assaultedhim on all fronts he focused in on her, blurring out the background noise to adull roar as she sharpened into a knife. If the unspoken edge to her gaze didspeak volumes, say it, say it and do usboth a favor.
He balances the glass with practiced ease and shifts halfinto her space “Trust me, I’m not the only one with money in these halls.” He speaksat a volume pitched just loud enoughto be heard even over the thrum of life that continued to beat alongside thethrum of music “Or a keen business sense, I’ve got a name that’s worth morethan some but—“ he gestures to one of the ‘celebrity’ patrons of the evening,some villain he’d yet to hear much of anything of outside of some questionableproduct he’d been pushing out on the East end “Names aren’t everything when you’ve got power, huh?” a short butmirthless chuckle.
There’s still the limited space between them, easier to hearone and other in such a crowded environment. He supposed he should haveexpected to be recognized earlier. If he was honest, he was a little bummed outsomeone hadn’t beforehand. But, the more than likely scenario was that he hadbeen recognized; and simply no one cared. Or they knew, the rules—don’t shit inyour own backyard, or at least don’t start shit at Atlas. “This wasn’timportant was it?” he asks more so as an afterthought, raising the glass inhand “Ah, nevermind.” He slaps a fifty down on her tray “Keep the change.”
As if that made up for the entirety of the ordeal, addinginsult to injury he knocks back the rest of the drink and places the emptyglass aside. Digits lingering upon glass still cool to the touch, a pleasantsensation when compared to the warmth in the air—he’d always been one to preferto cool kiss of winter over the harsh burn of summer’s breeze. He’d like tocounter, as late as it was—that he couldn’t be the only sort of high societysort to make their way in here but he knew even before the words had hope offorming upon his tongue.
He knew.
There were other clubs for them. Other holes in the wall forthe ilk he called his kin, his hands smoothing down the front of his suit andhe lets out the faintest of breaths as though uncomfortable all of the sudden—hethought Sawyer quite might be “Hold whatever thoughts about me and my alliancesthat you must, just know that my work brings down many a metahuman that deserves the gallows.” Even if therewere the few that didn’t, he knew—he knew.
God did he know.
“I’ve seen the archives,” he says and if Sawyer were a lesskind man he would grip her arm, ground her in place and leave bruises as aharsh reminder of his presence but he merely stands his place with hands lax athis sides and an expression of minute boredom upon his features “Trust me, it could be worse.”
Couldn’t it always?
The well ventured and well known business man looked completely unaffected by Diondra’s words, yet even in his suit looked utterly at home within the pulsing heart of their surroundings. This and the easy smile upon his lips did more than merely get beneath her skin. And she knew that was exactly what he wanted and it only managed to irritate her further. The feelings were foreign, and she wished briefly that she were someone else. Anyone else. Someone who posed more of a threat - not quiet Diondra Woods who kept reclusively to herself. But even a recluse has bite. His eyes never wavered and for the duration of this seemingly long moment, she didn’t look away. Simple, yet, a small victory. There were others eyes on him - on them, and Diondra knew if he made some sort of move, another would be made in turn. But like always, she would try to keep the peace and she swore that was one of the only reasons Mae Huang kept her around.
With the hum of the crowd at his back, the man stepped freely into her space, making them appear to be having a normal conversation and for all intense and purposes, they were. Regardless of the way Diondra tensed, however. His words again struck her, but this time it was her own mouth that curled up into a smile. “It’s funny how you think that’s what I meant.” Money wasn’t everything. Sure, some of the questionably wealthy frequented here - but any and all metahuman were welcome through Atlas’ doors. As long as rules were followed. It was a safe haven when ASH roamed many a cities streets. Momentarily lost in her own thoughts, her eyes followed a gesture as he continued to speak. They landed upon a newer patron - one deliberately looking to make a name for himself. “And yet, it’s fear and a mere name holding all of your power.” Words slipped before Diondra could think to repress them, quick and sharp. She swore it was the laugh that bubbled up past his lips that made her do it.
Diondra knew who he was, and now after the initial shock and seeing just how...deplorable he truly was outside of a news article or tv screen - warning bells went off in her head. They were screaming for her to run. But then the man tossed a fifty dollar bill onto her tray and the cool mist she felt churning at her ankles for once felt warm with her anger. She picked up the large bill, folded it neatly in half - gentle expression not giving away what she truly wanted to do with it- which was tear it in half.
The small brunette took a closer step into his space before reaching out to adjust his tie much like she used to do for her father on Sunday mornings before church. It was a natural response, but deliberate nonetheless before she slipped his money back into the front pocket of his suit. “And - what about those that don’t?” No one deserved what ASH put them through - one one had asked for these powers regardless of how they were used. Diondra had spent years running, not understanding, feeling cursed. And no matter what he said - he would never truly understand. He wasn’t like them. Had never been hunted like an animal with a bounty on its head.
Diondra waited - their eyes locked and she knew there was something just under his surface. She could almost sense it as she reached for his empty glass, cold fingers brushing against his hand. “There are secrets even you don’t have the privileged of knowing.” She turns then - intent upon getting as far away as she can.
