climax

Wu Yifan the name's Krisintel and bartender at Scorpio ✗ | ✗ | ✗ | ✗ | ✗

[blondejongin]

when chen slaps kris in the head…

[scrxkris]

!

I'm going to keep this short because I'm a man of nonsensical words. (did that make any sense at all?)  

SAB is the very reason why I tried roleplaying, despite my trust issues with the English language lol, and seeing it close ties my heart in knots, although I've seen it coming. But I am beyond glad that most of you would still be keeping your wonderful puppets muses--- I choose to do likewise. I just can't seem to let go of Krease that easily since we've been together for almost 5 months (wow sab must have gotten so tired of me ye)

I apologize for my super low activity though. Real life has been taking up most of my time for the past weeks. However, I do promise to continue Krease's plots after finals (about a week from now). 

Before I go poof, I just want to say THANK YOU to each and everyone of you, most especially to Janey (who has adopted me with all her heart and soul yeywootbyeimyourfetusforeveryes) and the mods. KREASE LOVES YOU ALL OKAY *waves*

PS: Whoever wishes to plot, if there's any, feel free to add me on these accounts. skype: scrxkris | aim: wukrys | line: krysanthemum

[scrxkris]

Fringe area || {Kris + Miyoung}

{╾deft fingers flounced about the keyboard, orchestrating shifting patterns of commands in seamless cadence with the whirring gears of knowledge sequestered behind irises eclipsed in more drudgery than ebullience. one, two, three. three codes in and gone was the firewall blocking a certain site kris needed to acquire vital pieces of information from. if not for the dreaded fact that his apartment's electricity died on him whilst he was halfway done through finishing a paperwork, he would never ever book a rendezvous with the local library's outdated computer as early as seven in the morning. it was too early for his kind (a nocturnal who'd rather live in darkness than witness a debased world in full light) for such hour had long been wiped off his body clock, but then came this mishap that shoved all endeavors into catacombs of foregone pleasantries, his internal clock refashioning itself in a way he would deeply regret, so it wasn't totally surprising that none of his senses and configurations functioned beyond the horizon of what was expected of them at the moment, albeit the late proceedings make for a great debate.}  ╾/╾  {╾kris' body riddled with somnolence as he leans back into the chair, lips molded into a thin line, neutrality upon neutrality amid revelry at the quiet downtime proffered by the computer's slow-paced downloading process. but then he falls victim of long intrigue; that very moment his periphery latches onto a sight so familiar it beguiled the rest of his vision right then and there. splayed out across a monitor just beside his was a running software made primarily for amateur hackers. he was certain for he had been at that phase. ridiculous was the only word sputtered by his subconscious, aimed at fate's chicanery for crafting a coincidence at its finest. slyly, his gaze flicked to the lady whom he presumes to be a fellow hacker, perusing the tiniest details of her face for future purposes since her presence alone fills him with a foreboding sense of imperilment, though her outward appearance suggests otherwise. } You're doing it wrong, Miss. {╾the words came rushing in as though it skipped the process of being evaluated by his comprehension. kris tilts his head in a mocking manner, all the while donning an elusive grin ,lest he appear mussed, that adds to the list of things the lady needs to decipher --- his was of notches higher however, since no specific code can transcend the conundrum he carries. }

[scrxkris]

Mission Infraction || {Kris + Victoria}

Monday. Perhaps the most scorned day of the week for it bears a great deal of stress generators that coerce students and employed citizens into willful submission to the claws of crippled reality, and Kris could not agree any less. Aghast and adrift in mundane thoughts as streaks of lightning animated across the vast tapestry of darkness looming above, trailed by an ear-splitting thunder that rapidly extinguishes the droning murmurs inside the bus, he sails through the abysmal waters of probable ploys devised to drown his woes from an impending menace despite his awareness that such equates to no more than futile. Backing out is a term not included in his dictionary but it is now, written in big, bold letters as though it boasts a sense of vitality in his life. 

It was his first time getting assigned to do a "killing mission" in lieu of a fellow Scorpio member who had been inflicted with severe injuries, deeming him unfit of the said duty, and as if that was not enough to plague him with qualms of arrant despair, the addition of having one of the hitmen as his partner depicted a more tortuous fate. Taking away other's lives is not something that squares with his moral guidelines, nor will it ever be, and so even as the motion of slithering reluctant fingers under his coat to facilitate a contact with a gun suggested a defiance against his own philosophy, he firmly insists otherwise. Some effects are rather hard to shun away however, such as the sudden onset of tattered visions inclusive of gore and bloodshed oppressing the sensitive crevice of his mind. 

Seconds seemingly transfigured into hours the longer he tightens his grip on the metal weapon, hence the withdrawal of hand, the weight tugging the thick fabric of his coat down as it settles back into its temporary shelter. He then flicks his gaze to the left and watches the ghostly landscape of Seoul roll past whilst a metaphorical cascade of rain makes a feeble effort of cleansing treachery's venom on the debauched place. But nay, nay, nay. Evil had long been stitched to its edifice. It was t-o-o  l-a-t-e.  He jerks back to reality sooner than expected when a familiar tone crawled slyly in his ears, and with a few tapping on his phone screen, the last name he ought to see at the precise moment pops out. Victoria, Scorpio's hitman. Feeling his body lurch forward, he snapped his head up and realizes that it's time. The bus had already stopped at the dreaded destination. Not managing to type a reply, he weaved through the passengers and stepped out of the vehicle, an ambush of the night breeze carving goosebumps on his bare skin.

His anxious-filled orbs narrowed into vicious slits after a deep intake of breath to effectively canvass the entire area, but the extensive expanse of the street made it hard for the blonde to track down his partner; scarcely the most inappropriate choice for a meeting place. There was a stroke of luck soon enough though as he takes a sight of a recognizable figure, leaning against a seemingly lavish car. Kris pushes his feet into action, hints of his golden hair gleaming under the slivers of moonlight, though the incessant nagging of distress forfeits him of composure.

"Good evening Miss Victoria. Wu Yifan…I mean…Kris, at your service." he swooped an elegant bow to break the ice, eyeing the female with half-lowered lids.

[sevnghyuns]

[scrxkris]

t r a c k e r 02.24.14

O W I N G ! 

Jongup (reply)

Luhan (reply)

Sulli (reply)

Youngjae (reply)

W A I T I N G !

Dara (reply)

Junhong (reply)

Reina (reply)

P L O T T I N G ! 

Baekhyun 

Daehyun

Jongdae

Jia 

Kai

Kasper

Miyoung

Sehun

Sooyeon

Woobin 

Yukwon 

Note:

In case I have forgotten/misplaced anyone, please do not shoot me with your bullets…..a message would do.

As you can see, I’ve lost an incredible amount of threads *sobs* and because of this, I’m selling Kris’ body in exchange for plots. ; - ; If this doesn’t sound interesting then I don’t know what would be. LOL. Whoever wants to plot, simply like this and I'll drop by your ask or you can also go to mine if you want to >:D.

Just a reminder though: Due to the outrageous demands of my university, I can only be active during weekends so I hope you guys don't mind my super late replies.

skype: scrxkris | aim: wukrys | line: krysanthemum

[ibelongwith-you]

[scrxkris]

Pain in Variety || {Kris + Han}

[ctzxluhan]

Han’s eyebrow raised when he received a piece of information about Kris he had not asked for and had not particularly wanted to know either. What Kris was doing in his bedroom was really none of his business and he wasn’t interested to know about such things either so to hear Kris confess that he was always on top well, it came as an unexpected piece of information but there was nothing surprising about it. Kris, to Han’s eyes, didn’t look like a guy who was into dating other guys or even have sex with them which meant that all his partners were probably women. Following that reasoning, it made sense for Kris to be on top. That’s about as far as his brain went in its analysis of the information. His gaze traveled down to Kris’s hand, which was now resting on his shoulder, before it followed his arm and then met Kris’s gaze. “I might have a thin frame but you’re a giant,” he deadpanned. There was no way he would have fit on that tiny couch with Kris already sleeping on it. Well, it would have been possible if he had pressed himself completely against the taller male’s body and this was just something he wasn’t planning to ever do. “I am not regretting anything,” was the last thing he said because he was convinced it was futile to have an argument with Kris over some sleeping arrangement. He knew that he hadn’t wanted to lay down on top of the taller male and that was what mattered.

He had a feeling Kris would jump on the opportunity to ask him some questions since it seemed like certain things had changed in the dynamic between them. At the beginning of their deal, it would have been unconceivable to imagine Kris being remotely interested by anything relating to Han. He had no reason to ask about his life and Han had no reasons to reveal anything about himself to a man who was using him almost like a slave although he was sure slaves had it a lot worse than he did. Now was different though. Kris was showing a side of himself Han had never seen before. Of course there was still the cold guy barriers and the verbal arrows shot at him, but there was something warmer streaming through once in a while. It was in the bag of clothes Kris had given him. It was in the concern he had for Han and that he was trying so hard to hide just so that Han wouldn’t be aware of it. Kris was starting to intrigue him and he thought that maybe he would like to ask Kris questions too and discover what kind of person he actually is hiding behind all the barriers.

When the taller male started moving his fists and pretending that he was a fighter, Han couldn’t help himself but blink twice before bursting into laughter. He reached out to press his hand against Kris shoulder and gave it a light shove. It was the first time he was laughing around the other, truly laughing to the point where it looked like he no longer had control over the muscles of his face and oh god, he could feel water prickling at the corners of his eyes once again. He bent forward, placing his hands on his knees while he tried to calm down and let the fit of laughter subside. “You…combat skills…” he choked out before starting to laugh again. Again, he couldn’t picture Kris in a combat of any kind. To Han, Kris looked like the kind of guy who’d be ordering someone to deal with any potential enemy in his place and he would probably order for the fight to be silent so he could continue to concentrate on his work.

It took a few minutes before his laughter subsided and when it did, he straightened with a ‘oof’ and reached up to wipe at his eyes. He coughed a few times and proceeded to tug on his shirt to make sure he still looked presentable. His smile widened when his desire for an American breakfast got approved by Kris. “Really? Wait…you’re not taking me to a restaurant but there’s still going to be a Chef?” he asked, suddenly feeling puzzled by the other’s statement. He didn’t have much time to dwell on it though as Kris had now returned from grabbing his coat and had captured his wrist in his gigantic hand, dragging him out of the office and subsequently out of the building. He craned his neck to be able to catch a look of Kris face and was shocked to see a real smile there. Not a smirk, or a grin or any other condescending up-curl of his lips, but just a wide smile that had Han suddenly feeling a bit dazed.

He shook his head and stopped looking at Kris so he could focus on what was in front of him instead. The last thing he wanted was to trip and make a fool of himself. “Where are we going? Where are you taking me?” Han had never been good with surprises. He had a tendency to panic if he was forced to go somewhere without knowing the destination and he could already feel the stress simmering in his body.

[scrxkris]

Through the years spent meandering down life's crooked recesses, a hollow automaton designed to conform with the fornicated standards of society was how Kris regarded himself as. It was his own carved figure that outlines his level of significance in this debased fragment of the city. Submissive and inferior, cowering under one's thumb. Naught was he, hovered tremulous on the debris of dull mortality--- pleasures drought, youth robbed, candid emotions bygone ---- as ceaseless episodes of foul play violate his range of view as if they were nothing short of mundane. He despises most, if not all, things tethered to the livelihood he is in; the bloodshed, the pointless quandaries, the lives taken in exchange for transitory pleasantries and the list goes on for miles. Had it not been for circumstances substantial to the hows and whys behind his mother's death, it would be the other path he'd take; the road devoid of infractions that stirs no founts of bitter weeping. Yet much as he wants to portray a good role (albeit the fact remains that if given the chance to, he'd show it through unconventional means as Kris always does), he is in no position to, for he had been shoved into the dark spectrum, compelled to wend a lawless course following atrocious orders amid his innermost refusals.

But that was then. Time has already flown along with his initial philosophies, although some residues still clung to the murky vestibules of his mind, to make concessions for new exploits which could hone his skills to his aimed level of perfection. Under the sustenance of Scorpio had he tailored his knowledge to the best of its ability and chiseled a stronger carapace that one may no longer stretch beyond the bounds of his woven masks, insulating all base emotions. The once frail Kris had been transfigured immensely, now incised with more callousness and scarcely any of decrepitude, however, his appetite for good will did not fall down the cracks despite myriads of alterations, and for some inexplicable reason, he felt like it was satiating itself through Han. There are way too many proofs to support his hypothesis; the succor of providing the other wherewithal (cleverly disguised as their "deal"), his rare words of wisdom to give the man a piece of his mind (if those can even considered to be such) and the branded clothes he'd bought to replace the other's outdated ones ---- just to name a few. But the real question is why? The hasty insight knocked at his gateways, wanting permission to present itself outwardly yet Kris is prepared, turning a deaf ear to its pleas as he loosens his grip on Han's wrist, bit by bit, until his hand falls down languidly on his side.

The route to his apartment ensured easy navigation by foot as it is situated no farther than five blocks away from the Red Light District where lies the crux of Scorpio. And so he jovially ambles side by side with the shorter one which is, as a matter of fact, a deviation from the set routine they have. Until recently, he wouldn't have restrained himself from hurling lethal doses of sarcasm to counter whatever Han says, let alone the proverbial holes his stare bullets drill when an exchange of rebuttals arise. Fate was as cunning as ever nevertheless, drawing forth some lost melody to harmonize the bitter interlude between the two whereas life has yet to compose a new sort of camaraderie for them. "Don't question me as if I'm taking you captive. I have no malicious intentions, please. In fact you should feel blessed since you'll be given a reward you won't ever forget." No comedic overtones dangled askew from his lips considering the hedonistic excesses of his take, though the coy expression tinkered on his visage is debatable. Resting his left arm on the man's right shoulder for support as they pass by familiar streets that lack signs of activity due to the early hour, he risks a glance at Han for the faintest of cues as regards to his reaction on his somewhat frivolous response. Han does not make for the clearest of assumptions but at that moment, his bouts of metaphorical vagaries transcend that of his erected facade, exposing a rather overwrought man.   

Then it started again, the conflicted feelings scrambling off for protuberance, be it on the surface or inside his knotted thoughts; onerous and ardent, monopolizing a great deal of his logical reasoning. Half of him wants to pick on the other's sore point for it was gratifying, knowing that he's on the winning end of some self-conducted game, yet the other half stands elsewhere, wanting to traverse the less devious track as his emotional affinity regains functionality through and through. How creepily ludicrous it was, the little idiosyncrasies Han unconsciously inundates him with. They were plucking flickers of his unmasked layers, revealing more and more of the marred Wu Yifan who still harbors the emotional stocks the present "him" had long forgotten and this, this very fact disturbs Kris, even when he  constantly persuades himself not to be concerned with such matters. With a skewed moral compass and a dawning comprehension of the palpable marks of entropy etched on Han's face, he was coerced to say none of the usual verbal insults specifically made for the other. "We're almost there but you're free to take on another route if you don't trust me enough. And.....that means farewell to your American breakfast too." His hand slid down the other's back, lightly patting it twice before his soft tiers parted once more. "Just saying."  

Not more than half an hour has passed when they reached his apartment complex and it was just the two of them wandering around, the other tenants must still be asleep or perhaps, they have gone to their respective duties. "Here we are. Welcome to the home of the most handsome Chef! Don't get too excited." Kris fumbles for the keys before swinging the door open, wary of the mess inside but pretends to not see anything. Casually, he pushes Han inside and expels a terse chuckle. "Please take a seat while I do my job".

[tkgraveyard]

[scrxkris]

Parallel lines || {Kris + Junhong}

[scrxkris]

scrxjunhong:

Hearing the older male’s suggestions, his hands briefly paused along the feline’s flank as he stares at the creature in soft contemplation, facial expressions portraying a slightly alarmed child. It didn’t look evil with the way it was glancing at him for suddenly stopping and even mewing for his attention (and for him to continue). It looked like any other cat; just looking for someone to pet it and shower it with infinite attention. “You wouldn’t hurt me right?”

He received a definite meow in response and he turned back to Kris with a childish beam of happiness. “See! It said it wouldn’t hurt me,” he stated with a reassuring smile as he then turned back to stroking the kitten and feeling the vibration from its purring. “I know you’re a good kitty. You wouldn’t hurt anyone unless they’re mean to you.” It wasn’t like the cat was actually speaking to him, but he felt like he understood the underlying vibe the creature gave him and he fully appreciated it.

A look of confusion spreads across his face when Junhong heard Kris talk again. Did he mean he was jealous of the kitty or of Junhong or of both? He paused briefly again to figure out which one it was, then he settled on just assuming that Kris wanted to see both of them. He heard Kris shuffle forward ever so slightly and thinking it would probably benefit both of them and the cat in front of him, he shifts his hand under the cat. It didn’t seem to mind the foreign advancement and Junhong successfully managed to scoop the cat up into his arms.

“Here hyung,” Junhong said as he stood up with the cat wrapped tightly and comfortably in his arms. He turned around, still petting the kitty and feeling the soft vibration against his chest. He tilted his head slightly as he shoved the creature closer to the older male with a beaming and confident smile. “If I do this then you won’t feel as scared of it harming you! But I’m positive it won’t hurt you! It promised me it wouldn’t hurt me so it shouldn’t hurt you,” he finished with a slight pout. He wouldn’t know how to feel if the cat did betray him.

Any sliver of composure left on his exterior loses its fragile grip on reality when something out of the norm, a few notches away from his profuse reveries, snakes through his vision: the mangy mass of fur tucked in Junhong’s warmth insinuating solace over his presence, despite him having been endowed with a callous mien that allegedly radiates cantings of threats regardless the circumstance and the audience. He could have sworn there was a frenzy of adrenaline raging through his bloodstream all the while Junhong had been facilitating the slight contact between them. It was as though his subconscious was familiar of the legal technicality which the scenario implies; of which validates that the feat done is a source of strain and yet of joy. The ambush of fibers deviant on his bare skin was too spectral to conform with, too much to take, even, due to the series of casualties playing in the forefront of his mind, derived from reminiscences touching on the inexplicable aversion animals have towards him.

For a typical Kris, the usual protocol would involve backing off to a certain extent, so as to spare room for his formidable defenses, yet his strong penchant for such creatures betrayed his own rationale, whisking away the wraith of dread. Besides, the minuscule being renders no sign of peril up until now so what was there to fuss about? Its poise was destitute of foreshadowed menaces that normally concur with the risky endeavors Kris pins himself into, for the sake of having his affection towards animals reciprocated, wherein all attempts have plummeted down the chasm of failure although the proceedings as of late suggest that the streak may end soon."I swear to God, Junhong, you will never see the sun again if I ever go home coated in scratches!" His profanatory tone was belied by the gentle countenance arising from the surface, slowly, slowly, slowly, bringing to light the layer he’d never meant to disclose to anyone but himself.  

Muddled by emotions he thought had been lost side by side with the faces which had painted his world in shadows, Kris raises a hand cautiously, aiming to slither in the stray kitten’s personal space, and by the time he succeeded, his digits weave through the warmth proffered by its fuzz. “Woah. You’re right, it’s harmless indeed” A smile crept up his lips, lacquered into the lining of vehement bliss. Not an air of pretentiousness skirts around himself but verisimilitude, peeling back layers and layers of torn sensibilities to find his quintessence as he continuously basks in the sight presented before him. “What the fu—” a low growl was issued on the other end before the kitten hurls itself into his chest, earning a stream of venomous words from Kris himself.

"GET THIS SHIT OFF ME WHAT THE FUCK JUNHONG!!" He commands in a voice that translates he means business and in a frantic fashion, flails his arms around out of desperation to get rid of the foreign body. So little remains of the sanity shredded into pieces, but all were restored in a fleeting once his ears caught the soft purr emitted by the creature as it settles on its own, indicating the friendly ministration which he’d miscalculated as an attack. Relief simmered back in his chest as his gaze falls to the serene kitten succumbed to him. "Oh..nevermind" With eyebrows angled so far down, he donned an innocent facet suggestive of the visceral joviality surging through ports that lead the way out, albeit the infinitesimal probability of it being displayed in more than a genuine smile. 

[scrxkris]

-a little paper is rolled around the stem of the origami flower, which has been placed in a shot glass awaiting for ; once unrolled the message is written in an obnoxious pink ink in Dara's loopy handwriting- "Dearest Kreastopher," -a little rose has been doodled next to the greeting in black ink- "I hope you've been practicing how to show your warm and fuzzies" -a teddy bear has been doodled here in a fine tipped brown marker- "y'know for those hot babes walking down the street." -a winking smiley has been drawn here- "Happy Valentine's Day!" -the note has been signed with a '-Dara', where she's replaced the A's in her name with black hearts-

{╾under the frail incandescence of his bed lamp had he scrutinized the intricate handiwork delivered in his apartment, his once somnolent-laden eyes now glossed with engrossment as he takes small mental notes of how meticulous the sender must be, seeing the makeshift flower's infinitesimal flaws. eventually, after having drawn a conclusion that the possibility of replicating the same art without destroying the origami leads to naught, he diverts his attention to the paper coiled around the stem and detaches it to conceal its contents.} No wonder... {╾the sight of the sender's handwriting tugged the corners of his lips in subtlety as it gave all the clues away. it was dara, indeed, her "mentor" when it comes to anything related to art. he fishes out his phone as soon as he was done reading to relay his musings in a more convenient way for he classifies verbal communication under the sphere of antipathy.}

[msg ↪ picassa] Hey, don't you feel awkward giving me a flower? I mean it's supposed to be the other way around right? Oh well. Thanks for this... and I'll make sure to steal this idea from you in case I get a girlfriend... at least they'll stop complaining about the flower's lifespan. :D

[msg ↪ picassa] And no. I don't need to practice anything, girls naturally gravitate towards me.

[scrxkris]

{╾for him, this day isn't as riveting as others deem it to be, but rather, an occasion of poignant satire fated to isolate the scorned, the crestfallen individuals, from those who are spoiled by variations of love---and this would eventually lead to an emotional turmoil, albeit not applicable to Kris at the moment. the card placed atop his table defied the said theorem as it proffers slices of amusement to his hollow insides. though it was just a play of words, he finds himself grinning long enough to be considered genuine.}  Nice try but honestly, I can come up with something far more interesting than this one. {╾festooned in the corners of his quirked lips were faint splashes of insolence as he clicked his tongue hard against his palate, self-debating over what he could offer in return: a picture of himself dressed up in something that would forcibly pop her eyes out of their sockets or a hand-made card with a nude sketch of Krystal. the options are indubitably tempting and so he concludes that merging both would be best...hopefully.}

[scrxkris]

[wolfyhungry]

Being cool is not your style, Kris

[scrxkris]

t r a c k e r {02.13.14}

O W I N G ! 

Luhan (reply)

Junhong (reply)

Jongup (reply)

Sulli (reply)

W A I T I N G !

Dara (reply)

Sehun (reply)

Reina (reply)

Youngjae (reply)  

P L O T T I N G ! (those with "?" beside their names denotes that I haven't received any response from you...yet. *pokes them with my choco stick* haha)

Baekhyun 

Daehyun

Jongdae

Jia 

Kai

Sooyeon

Woobin (?)

Yukwon 

Note:

In case I have forgotten/misplaced anyone, please do not shoot me with your bullets.....a message would do.

As you can see, I've lost an incredible amount of threads *sobs* and because of this, I'm selling Kris' body in exchange for plots. ; - ; If this doesn't sound interesting then I don't know what would be. LOL. Kris' body is put on hold, oops my bad, let me rephrase that... Kris is, once again, unavailable for plotting (unless you want to do scripts?) due to the outrageous demands of my university, and this also means I can only be active during weekends. I'd love to plot with everyone once my vacation starts though >:).

All messages have already been replied to and so if you haven't heard back from me, go put the blame on dumblr lol.  

[scrxkris]

I just want to say....

I LOVE YOU ALL.

[advxjjong]

[past] Sketchy Beginnings || Kris & Sandara

[scrxkris]

ctzxdara:

After tearing away one sheet, the doodlist mindlessly started another. Given that the pad was rather dainty in size itself, it was hard enough for her to keep her figures upon her canvas, let alone keep them from over lapping one other. She only took small glimpses at the people around her, some of which were even her own co-workers, afraid for she might be discovered if she stared too long at any one person. The last thing she wanted was some blabbermouth passing word to the higher-ups about her being caught lazy on the job. 

Her page filled up more swiftly than she would’ve liked it to. It had been a couple of days since the artist had actually sat down and played around with her art for a bit. With just these two quaint pages filled with doodles as her proof, it was only a matter of time before Dara made herself time at home for her passion. Just as she ripped off her second page of these sketches, a voice behind caused her to jump. “Whatcha doing?” said the voice one of her co-workers. Dara turned towards her, and her attire alone lets Dara know that the employee was one of the club’s dancers. 

Unfortunately for her, the employee had grabbed the torn sheet from her hands before Dara could put it out of her sight. “Oh wow,” came the nonchalant response, emitting a hot blush to settle in Dara’s cheeks. Dara was nervous. The dancer had been here in the club well before she had managed to work here full-time, and Dara had only spoken a couple words to this employee in general. Based on her response to seeing what she had drawn, Dara was half-hoping that her co-worker would not care and just go back to whatever the hell she was doing. To much of Dara’s surprise though, her co-worker swiftly crumpled up the piece of paper and threw it on the floor behind her.

"You probably should get back to work," the other replied too sweetly, a skeptical look in her eyes, "not sure how the boss would feel if he knew his new waitress was scribbling on the job." With a sugar coated smile, the woman she turned on her platform high heels and clanked away. Once she was out of sight, Dara let out a breath; that was too close for Dara’s liking. Forgetting completely about the paper on the floor, Dara pocketed the pad and her pen and went back to her tables. The crowd had picked up the pace a little, to her great relief. Writing down their new orders, and taking back their empty glasses, Dara busied herself with the mindless task of serving those within the club.

She was placing a table’s worth of martinis back onto her tray when she noticed someone approaching her. Turning her head, Dara’s brows furrowed slightly. In the back of her mind, she registered that the man was yet another fine co-worker of hers, but a name couldn’t come to her mind. She remembers vaguely seeing him work behind the counter not too long ago, yet she wasn’t completely sure that was his only job in the club. Dara thought he was intimidating. How could she not? With a sharp angled face paired with a solemn expression, Dara was sure he was one of the people of utmost importance within the club. Dara was just about to lift her tray (half hoping that she could escape him with the lame I’m-working-right-now card) when the object he was carrying caught her attention.

Once Dara had saw the wrinkled piece of paper wedged in his hand, Dara thought she was done for. She tried her hardest to keep herself calm as her heart rate inevitably rose to a rushed pounding, telling herself that it couldn’t have been the worst thing she could’ve done on the job. Hell, she could’ve gotten drunk instead. With her eyes flickering between the paper and the other’s face, Dara hesitated momentarily. Should she tell him that it was her? Or should she lie about it? What would he do if he knew it was her? Tell the boss? Taking a breath through her nose, she supposed it was clearly obvious that she appeared to be guilty. Surely if one co-worker acted like a complete bitch about it, what would stop him from doing the same? Luckily the lighting in the club was dim; perhaps he wouldn’t be able to tell that she was flushed.

"That’s mine," she said quietly, not exactly meeting his gaze but rather staring at the bridge of his nose. Her eyes flickered out to the floor. Her tables seemed to be rather calm at the moment, none of them looking too pissy about the fact that she hadn’t returned with their beverages yet. Dara wondered how he responded. Her co-worker was rather reserved about the whole ordeal, and Dara couldn’t exactly be sure if his expression really showed what he was feeling entirely. In fact, shouldn’t he be working too? Dara bit her lip. She’d only just recently started working full time; perhaps mouthing off to those who’s been here longer wasn’t such a smart idea.

At first it wasn’t fairly apparent; how perturbed the female was over his arbitrary interference in her affairs, the inquiry posed coming off as extra weight to the other’s workload —- a condition Kris can empathize with as he has his own share of the aforementioned through his bartending duties —- yet the metaphorical vagary that tailed right after her eyes flickered to the paper held in his hand precipitously usurped Kris’ senses, prodding him to be cautious of further entanglements. He deems it quite intriguing; the downright reluctance dusting off the rest of her facets, that is, when all he’d done was press a terse query standard for employees in her field. Surreptitious became a partner of his as he slips in composure despite teetering on the precipice of discombobulation, eyes pinned to the other’s equivocal ones whereas his curiosity attuned so acutely to the silence that had befallen them; the usual club cacophony fizzling out into wordless oxymoron.

It was the concise epiphany conveyed that successfully depletes the suffocating bubble of tension encapsulating him— the answer had been right in front of him all along — but perhaps there are still remnants of discomfiture wrought, considering his unfamiliarity with the other. Even though the club’s perimeters call for inevitable social sensibilities between employees, be it an attempt to flourish a camaraderie of sorts or build rivalries amongst those who have egos bigger than their heads, Kris fails to pluck the lady out of his livelihood’s inconsequential memories. Not a surprise at all since, from the very beginning, she didn’t struck to be someone imprinted in the current chapters of his life. So he simply concludes that the girl is yet another freshly beguiled trinket to Scorpio’s otherwise blissful deception.

His formerly knitted eyebrows rendered asunder for a more affable demeanor, albeit his wariness of the feat’s minimal effect on his rough curvatures, when a lapse in communication proliferates once more, thus, forcing him to make a move before any kind of inconvenience takes over. “Ah, that makes my search easy peasy.” Languidly, he hands the piece of paper to its respectful owner just right after flattening out the creased edges which left unpleasant dents around the canvas. "Pleased to meet you, then. " Kris drawls out with a spoonful of zeal, digits crawling down his pants’ pockets for warmth, as an intrusion of new questions undeterred by the stranger parameters denied access of inner comforts within the fissures of his mind. It didn’t take long for the said intruders to turn into verbal musings however. “I may come off as bothersome whatsoever but how long have you been hmmm… interested in those?” Withdrawing one hand from the possession of fabric, he curls each digit, spare for the forefinger which tapped the girl’s artwork ever so slightly. “They’re pretty fine…..my style, actually. You’re new here, aren’t you? I’m Kris by the way and if it’s not that obvious, I work here as a bartender.”