Sworn to Protect

Spring Fever || OPEN

There was an audible snort from Ivan as he shrugged. Yeah, this guy was as French as they got. At least he had the mostly positive stereotypes, right (though hairy was more neutral than anything)? “I would hope so. Smelling bad in a big city is… well it’s terrible, let’s be honest here.”

He shook his head a little along with a small chuckle. “Well I have to say that winter is the time for love, if you catch my drift.” He elbowed the stranger very lightly. “No worries. Ivan Braginsky. Officer in training, craft-maker-and-decorator, PC gamer, and lover of all things alcoholic.” The last one was a joke (at least… half a joke, anyway). “Pleasure.”

“Bien sûr—though clearly not everyone in the city agrees, or at least they just don’t care.” Francis shrugged. It was probably more likely that they didn’t care than anything else. He chuckled at the stranger’s comment. “I suppose that’s true. What better excuse to get up close and personal with someone than body heat?” He nodded at the man’s introduction. “Ah, the pleasure’s mine, monsieur. An officer in training, hm? A noble profession, especially in this city.”

"Ah-- come again? I don't speak any French, prostitye. Honestly, being so cramped up with so many people, smelly is terrible. I've encountered people that just smell terrible--" He cleared his throat, though, to stop himself. Though he manage to get a chuckle out of the Frenchman. "I'd like to think so too. Protecting people is what I'm good at and so it's what I'll do." Even if he has to try and uproot bad officers from the ranks. He'll do it. He'll work the legal system to his advantage, if he has to. "I'd like the citizens of New York to feel safe."

"Not easy work, but it's rewarding to me, and well worth it."

#waitingforbroadway

Open RP

"I can give you my name and show you my ID. As far as you being a threat to me, I’m not that worried. You can pat me down for weapons, even, should you so choose." He shrugged and pulled out his wallet, preparing to get his license to prove his identity. "I’m also quite certain there’s no ulterior motive. I have vowed to help people, and so help people I try." He then held up the small laminated slip with his photo and the name ‘Braginsky, Ivan V’ printed on it. "I understand I am a stranger in New York City. A large one, at that. I do not blame you for being suspicious and quite frankly, it’s somewhat of a relief to see someone so wary."

This wasn’t quite the response she was expecting, but she is glad he is being honest. Though for all she knows, he could be lying through he teeth. He seems strangely prepare for suspicious. Buuuuut her gut says he can be trusted. For now, she’ll be wary of him

"Alright, Mr. Braginsky." She had a bit trouble pronouncing his last name. "I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. But one strange or suspicious movement from you and I’ll pepper spray ya’ so hard you’ll be seeing stars."

If he pulled anything funny, she now at least had a name to report.

"Just Ivan is fine," he said, tucking his license back into his wallet and his wallet back into his pocket. "I would hope you would. You have my face and a name to match it now." He shrugged off her warning threat, however, with a quiet grunt.

"I'm not much worried about your pepper spray. I am no threat to you unless you become a threat to me. Does that sound fair?" He put his hands into his pockets as he looked her over. "And what's your name?"

Open RP

"Exactly."

"Though exercise can do that as well."

"Yes well that’s part of my particular academy’s curriculum, I suppose you could say. I am not terribly great with numbers past money sense, but I can certainly try to help if you need any." He tucked his hands in his pockets and tilted his head a little.

"You don’t even know my name, nor do I know yours. Yet your offering to help me with my school work. Sure there isn’t a ulterior motive?" Ignore the fact she put her hand in her purse. Better safe than sorry.

"I can give you my name and show you my ID. As far as you being a threat to me, I'm not that worried. You can pat me down for weapons, even, should you so choose." He shrugged and pulled out his wallet, preparing to get his license to prove his identity. "I'm also quite certain there's no ulterior motive. I have vowed to help people, and so help people I try." He then held up the small laminated slip with his photo and the name 'Braginsky, Ivan V' printed on it. "I understand I am a stranger in New York City. A large one, at that. I do not blame you for being suspicious and quite frankly, it's somewhat of a relief to see someone so wary."

Open RP

"Exactly."

"Though exercise can do that as well."

"Yes well that's part of my particular academy's curriculum, I suppose you could say. I am not terribly great with numbers past money sense, but I can certainly try to help if you need any." He tucked his hands in his pockets and tilted his head a little.

Open RP

"I can’t feel my brain anymore. Too many numbers." She said, speaking out loud to herself.

"I didn’t know you could feel your brain in the first place. That’s talent." His surprise was mock surprise. He just wanted to do a bit of ball busting.

"School can make you feel lots of things, sir."

"Like muscles you didn't know existed?"

Spring Fever || OPEN

"You are like a French stereotype just leapt right out of a movie," came the heavy accent from behind. He was half joking, though his expression remained firm and straight. "Or so it sounds."

Ivan slipped up next to the Frenchman and tucked his hands in his pockets, fiddling quietly with the lint. “The romantic type, I mean. Not the smelly one. Hairy I could still say seems to fit you. But the romantic one is what I meant.”

“Am I, monsieur?” Francis laughed at his guest’s assessment of him. “Ah, perhaps I am, but I cannot help it…romance is in my nature. Especially when the day is as lovely as this. I am glad you don’t think I’m smelly though, I try very hard not to be.” He winked.

"It is a gorgeous day and Spring is a time for love~! Ah, désolé I havenot introduced myself. Francis Bonnefoy, at your service. Waiter, actor, singer, and lover of of all things beautiful.”

There was an audible snort from Ivan as he shrugged. Yeah, this guy was as French as they got. At least he had the mostly positive stereotypes, right (though hairy was more neutral than anything)? "I would hope so. Smelling bad in a big city is... well it's terrible, let's be honest here."

He shook his head a little along with a small chuckle. "Well I have to say that winter is the time for love, if you catch my drift." He elbowed the stranger very lightly. "No worries. Ivan Braginsky. Officer in training, craft-maker-and-decorator, PC gamer, and lover of all things alcoholic." The last one was a joke (at least... half a joke, anyway). "Pleasure."

#waitingforbroadway

Open RP

"I can’t feel my brain anymore. Too many numbers." She said, speaking out loud to herself.

"I didn't know you could feel your brain in the first place. That's talent." His surprise was mock surprise. He just wanted to do a bit of ball busting.

Spring Fever || OPEN

Francis was in a wonderful mood, the mounds of New York snow had all melted and nothing but lovely green grass and flowers were left behind. The weather was warm—perhaps not as warm as he would like, but warm nonetheless. He hummed cheerfully as he walked around and smiled to any whom he might pass on the sidewalk whether they returned it or not.

It was his day off and he had no true destination in mind. Perhaps Central Park would be lovely to visit now if he happened to wander that way.

"Spring is so beautiful…" He murmured to himself. "The only thing that would make it better is someone here to enjoy it with."

"You are like a French stereotype just leapt right out of a movie," came the heavy accent from behind. He was half joking, though his expression remained firm and straight. "Or so it sounds."

Ivan slipped up next to the Frenchman and tucked his hands in his pockets, fiddling quietly with the lint. "The romantic type, I mean. Not the smelly one. Hairy I could still say seems to fit you. But the romantic one is what I meant."

#waitingforbroadway

I was almost just hit by a car what the hell.

heartofaknight

I saw that! Are you all right Ivan?

#heartofaknight #Replies about 34323784927 years later

I am alright but I do wish to chase that car down and put a nice dent in their hood a different way.

No damage done, fortunately.

I was almost just hit by a car what the hell.

#open

Sorry about my recent inactivity and stuff. I think I'm going through a really bad self consciousness spell (particularly on Liz, sadly, as much as I love her) mixed with getting super easily overwhelmed by things and it's making it hard to rp on any of my muses (save for one).

I'm going to try and get stuff done tomorrow.

#ooc

alattebrushstrokes

[OPEN] Feliciano's Cellphone Chooses Freedom

alattebrushstrokes

*He’ll chuckle a bit, pleased, before he moves over to pull the door open. A bell chimes as he leans against that door, gesturing inside with a wink.*

Welcome to my family’s cafe, then.

*He shuffles in, arms crossing over his chest as he surveys the room. It’s a nice place, really, but he’s mostly making sure everything checks out. He has no reason to believe otherwise, but he’s always checking.*

It is nice. Very warm and cozy.

*He’ll offer up a small smile to Feliciano before peering at the menu.*

Since I am here, I may as well give you all some business, yes? Any snacks? I am quite hungry.

alattebrushstrokes

I owe you for saving me, so I can pay!

*He’ll beam and do his best to playfully shoo Ivan into a table. Even if he’s not meant to work at the moment, he’s pretty sure Auntie isn’t going to mind him cementing the place as worth a few more visits to this guy.*

We have baicoli, bocconotto, bombolone, cannoli, pevarini, pignolata, pignoli, pizzelle, sfogliatelle, torta caprese, cheesecakes and pies if you feel like sweets.

If you’d prefer your snacks to be something savory, we have mozarella sticks, zippuli, finger sandwiches, and a whole bunch of other things.

*He practically frolics away to pluck a menu out and prances back to slide into a chair beside Ivan and look at him expectantly with the menu facing out, for Ivan to read. The Italian is pretty excited about this.*

Does that make this my free meal or--?

*He doesn't seem to defy his will much, sliding to a table and seating himself. He's still quite content to look around the place and take it in. He likes knowing as much as he can about his surroundings.

As Feli slides in next to him with a menu, his eyebrows raise and a tiny smirk forms. This guy is trying to get him to come more. He can't really blame him, though, and he wouldn't. His eyes shift to the menu placed in front of him and he sort of scans it.*

I think finger sandwiches and some bombolone... bomboloni? I do not know much Italian past what I have heard here in New York... But um... Some of them will be fine... And if it is alright I would just like a regular coffee. Ah... or maybe that one that is not one of those overly sweet coffees? Espresso, was it?

#alattebrushstrokes

Open || When Red Light doesn't mean stop

In this case, decent and okay are synonymous.

*Being up close and personal with the queens wasn’t his idea of a good time, let him tell you.

But she mentions free drinks, he’s hooked immediate, whether he knows it or not. Free liquor would never ever be turned down. The mere thought of it was simply blasphemous.*

Er— Sure.

*He hoped she meant Alfred’s alter ego or some shit because man he was confused by the ‘her’. He thought Alfred was a guy. No need for confusion. He’ll open the door for her and follow her inside to his seat, silently hoping it’s somewhat close to wherever he can get a drink.*

How many of these drinks are going to be on you?

valentinogram

[Ah, they were people too. Very, very attractive people in some cases. Nothing wrong with being…up close and personal.]

Eh, we’ll see how tonight tips, hm?

[She chuckled as she spoke, taking Ivan’s hand carefully in her own to lead him to a good seat. Middle centre, a few tables up. Tucked was set up in a ‘dinner theatre’ kind of fashion - that is there were tables and chairs instead of aisles of seats. It was simply to make the experience more comfortable for the patrons who wished to drink copious amounts in good company, and to make it easier for the waitresses (they were all waitresses) to weave about with trays in order to collect empty glasses and take orders.]

First two definitely. Just say you’re a guest of Liberty Glitter’s and give whoever serves you -

[There was a good amount of awkward fumbling then, as Liberty tried to decently catch the garter belt around her thigh and remove it gracefully (yeah, like that would work), without flashing the entire auditorium.]

this. She’ll know what it means.

Now if you’ll excuse me - I’m going to let Liberty know that she has a guest.

[And with that, without another word, she was off backstage. To ‘tell Liberty’ that her friend was here. Hm - Alfred couldn’t wait to see the look on Ivan’s face.]

*They were probably all lovely people, He didn't doubt that. It was more or less his comfort zone with seeing a lady on stage that did, actually, identify as a man, getting up close and personal with him. Who identified as a straight man.

The first two, then. He'd have two, definitely. He felt like he'd need it, considering everything was quite out of the ordinary for him.*

Liberty Glitter, then... Alright. I will try to remember that. I--

*And then he had a garter belt. Well then. He cleared his throat and took it, flustering a bit and nodding. This lady better not have been fucking with him because he'd be pretty irritated to become the butt of some dumb joke.*

Ah... alright. I assume you work as one of the... err... queens...? Ahh... Good luck I suppose? I am unsure what to say to express something like that in this situation... Err... thank you for your help.

*He sat himself down and put the belt on the table, brows raised. He wasn't sure what the hell it could even mean, but alright. As his waitress came to serve him, he cleared his throat and, somewhat shyly, lifted up the garter to hand over.*

Err-- I was told to tell you I was a guest of Liberty Glitter's... and to ahh... give this to you. I was told you would know what it meant.

#alfredtuckingjones

Open || When Red Light doesn't mean stop

I-I am not so sure how comfortable I am with a um… “good seat”. This is a ah… somewhat educational thing for me more than anything.

*Well at least he had the right place. The strange haze that fell over him from his mild shyness of things of this sort didn’t cloud that. “Tucked”. Right. He knew that. He remembered that.*

I think— I think an okay seat will suffice.

*He gave a very certain nod in his sea of almost painfully there uncertainty, shifting a little before the uncertainty set back in.*

I— I am not sure I should be back stage while they all um… prepare. Many people would not appreciate it but um… I-I suppose what you think is best in that situation.

I still insist on an “okay” seat.

valentinogram

But if it’s an educational experience you should see it from somewhere decent, hm?

And maybe we’ll see how you feel after the show. I promise the performers are in separate changing rooms - they don’t all parade about backstage in there underwear.

[A shrug and a dazzling smile followed.]

I’m sure we can find you an ‘okay seat’, Lovely. Let me buy you a drink - first timers should always drink for free in my opinion. (I’m assuming it’s your first time - if it’s not, don’t tell me. It’s on me anyway.) And I’ll tell her that you’re here?

In this case, decent and okay are synonymous.

*Being up close and personal with the queens wasn't his idea of a good time, let him tell you.

But she mentions free drinks, he's hooked immediate, whether he knows it or not. Free liquor would never ever be turned down. The mere thought of it was simply blasphemous.*

Er-- Sure.

*He hoped she meant Alfred's alter ego or some shit because man he was confused by the 'her'. He thought Alfred was a guy. No need for confusion. He'll open the door for her and follow her inside to his seat, silently hoping it's somewhat close to wherever he can get a drink.*

How many of these drinks are going to be on you?

#alfredtuckingjones

Open || When Red Light doesn't mean stop

*Her voice sounded more masculine than many women and also vaguely familiar. He didn’t want to assume, though, and he already felt like he was in some weird dream.*

Ahh… His name is Alfred. I do not know his stage name, but I know he works around this area… I think this was where he said he worked but… It is a little fuzzy to me right now. It is a little overwhelming here.

*He scratched the back of his head a bit before shoving his hands in his pockets and glancing down briefly. Pumps, huh? He remembered something about pumps. To be fair, though, pumps in this area didn’t seem too unusual.*

valentinogram

[Liberty nodded slowly and furrowed her brow as if in thought. Obviously she knew exactly who Alfred was and that he was indeed working tonight (duh duh duh oh my god duh) but she insisted on putting on a show.]

You know, I know who you’re talking about - Liberty, right? Hm.

[Another pause as she stuck her tongue between her teeth thoughtfully and tapped her chin.]

You know, there’s a good chance she’s performing tonight…why don’t you come in, Sweetheart, and we’ll see.

[Hair flip. Wink. Hella.]

I can get you a good seat. And I can probably get you backstage…how does that sound?