39 - Foreign Secretary - Conservative Party.
"If you set out to be liked, you would be prepared to compromise on anything at any time, and you would achieve nothing." -- Margaret Thatcher.
"My boy, my baby!" She screamed as she ran up to him, wrapping her hands around his neck. "Life has been so hard, where the fuck have you been?" Pulling him close, she pressed her lips to his, in a long peck. "Should I just die? Don't you love me anymore?"
"Yeah, it's this little thing called 'I haven't slept in eighteen years'. There isn't enough cocaine in the fucking world. Believe me, I've tried very hard to find it all."
To say seeing Adriana made him happy was a brutal understatement, even if his face rarely showed it. Things had become complicated between them for a multitude of reasons, and nobody could hold a grudge quite like his petty ass...but things finally felt good again. Nothing was worth losing her over, and he wished he'd realised it sooner. Spencer wrapped his arms around her in a way that belied his typically indifferent expression. In a way that said 'I missed you' even when he couldn't.
"Don't be so fucking selfish. I don't have time to pencil in your funeral right now."
repulsive || hideous || ugly || not attractive || unappealing || not unattractive || meh || no preference || ok || mildly attractive || nice looking || cute || adorable || attractive || pleasant on the eyes || good looking || hot || sexy || beautiful || gorgeous || hot damn || would tap that || perfect || godlike || holy fuck there are no words
not if they were the last person on earth and the world was ending || fuck no! || never || no way || not likely || not sure || indifferent || Iâm asexual || maybe || probably || it depends || fairly likely || likely || yeah sure || yes || would tap that || hell yes || fuck yes! || wishing that could happen right now || as many times as possible || we are already having sex
Level of Friendship:
never in a million years || worst of enemies || enemies || rivals || indifferent || neutral || acquaintance || friendly toward each other || casual friends || friends || good friends || best friends || fuck buddies || bosom buddies || practically the same person || would die for them || true friends || my only friend
First impression of them:
I hate them so much || I donât like them || I donât trust them || they annoy me || theyâre weird || Iâm indifferent || meh || they seem alright || theyâre growing on me || truce || I think I like them || I like them || Iâm not sure if I trust them || I trust them || theyâre cool || theyâre genuine || I think weâre going to get along || I really like them || I think Iâm in love || oh fuck theyâre hot || I love them
Current impression of them:
I hate them so much || I donât like them || I donât trust them || they annoy me || theyâre weird || Iâm indifferent || meh || they seem alright || theyâre growing on me || truce || I think I like them || I like them || Iâm not sure if I trust them || I trust them || theyâre cool || theyâre genuine || I think weâre going to get along || I really like them || I think Iâm in love || oh fuck theyâre hot || I love them
How good of a kisser:
worst kisser ever || terrible || bad || awkward || just okay || alright || pretty good || good || makes me moan || excellent || exciting || oh god theyâre good || I dream about it || fucking amazing || absolute perfection || we havenât kissed
repulsive || hideous || ugly || not attractive || unappealing || not unattractive || meh || no preference || ok || mildly attractive || nice looking || cute || adorable || attractive || pleasant on the eyes || good looking || hot || sexy || beautiful || gorgeous || hot damn || would tap that || perfect || godlike || holy fuck there are no words
not if they were the last person on earth and the world was ending || fuck no! || never || no way || not likely || not sure || indifferent || Iâm asexual || maybe || probably || it depends || fairly likely || likely || yeah sure || yes || would tap that || hell yes || fuck yes! || wishing that could happen right now || as many times as possible || we are already having sex
Level of Friendship:
never in a million years || worst of enemies || enemies || rivals || indifferent || neutral || acquaintance || friendly toward each other || casual friends || friends || good friends || best friends || fuck buddies || bosom buddies || practically the same person || would die for them || true friends || my only friend
First impression of them:
I hate them so much || I donât like them || I donât trust them || they annoy me || theyâre weird || Iâm indifferent || meh || they seem alright || theyâre growing on me || truce || I think I like them || I like them || Iâm not sure if I trust them || I trust them || theyâre cool || theyâre genuine || I think weâre going to get along || I really like them || I think Iâm in love || oh fuck theyâre hot || I love them
Current impression of them:
I hate them so much || I donât like them || I donât trust them || they annoy me || theyâre weird || Iâm indifferent || meh || they seem alright || theyâre growing on me || truce || I think I like them || I like them || Iâm not sure if I trust them || I trust them || theyâre cool || theyâre genuine || I think weâre going to get along || I really like them || I think Iâm in love || oh fuck theyâre hot || I love them
How good of a kisser:
worst kisser ever || terrible || bad || awkward || just okay || alright || pretty good || good || makes me moan || excellent || exciting || oh god theyâre good || I dream about it || fucking amazing || absolute perfection || we havenât kissed
FOR: @mobscene-starters
WHERE: THE VENUE.
EVENT: HALLOWEEN PARTY, 2025.
As much as Yvonne loved hanging out with her kids, a night out with other adults was exactly what the doctor ordered. Though, looking out at the assorted gangs of London pressed together into one room, doubts were starting to creep into her head.
"Not sure I should be saying this as the host, but how long do you think we'll make it without a fight breaking out? I give it two hours at the most."
One man bumped into another, and Yvonne drained her glass as they started eyeing each other up.
"Alexis already tried to fight me when I started dramatically adjusting my boobs at the bar. Fifteen minutes was very generous of you."
Of course, he went out of his way to find the host. It was no secret that he'd always had a soft spot for Yvonne, but given how events like these tended to end up--with the fighting not being a joking matter--offering some support whilst he was still sober enough to be coherent seemed apt. Offering out the second shot acquired just for her, he threw back his own rather unceremoniously.
"Please tell me Gid is walking around here as Cousin It."
@mobscene-starters
Event: Fight Club 2025 - Pre Fights
"Something strong. With gin, please."
Here she was again.
None of the memories from the previous fights were particularly pleasantâquite the opposite, actually. In truth, had the prospect of staying home not promised a slow unraveling of her nervesâtormented by thoughts of what might unfold, of who Konstantin might be paired withâLyudmila wouldâve happily withheld her presence from the clubâs opulent chaos.
But tonight, the lesser of two evils had prevailed.
A martini was pressed into her hand, crystalline and cold, just as her temporary bodyguardâfilling in while Nadya took the night off to prep for her fightâstepped up, clearly reacting to someoneâs arrival like a guard dog catching a scent.
âGod, youâre already giving me a headache. This is a bar, not a battlefield,â Lyudmila muttered, irritated. She didnât even lift her gaze, merely waved a languid hand, as though brushing away smoke, to let whoever it was come closer.
"Calm down, Rambo," Spencer scoffed, addressing the shadow lurking at Lyudmila's side. The stance he took was undoubtedly supposed to intimidate, but the motherfucker was barking all the way up the wrong tree. In spite of their history, Spencer didn't even make the bottom of what was likely an extensive list of people present ready to split her head.
A martini sounded like a good call, though. As he slipped into the position beside her with a casualness that belied their strained past, he let his eyes drift over to the woman who'd once been so familiar to him. Was she here with her ex-husband tonight, or of her own accord? Spencer wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.
"Still reckon the sociopath queen should have put you and Cassie in the ring together. Maybe all you two need is a bit of blood and violence, clear the air and that, and you'd be all good again." Sure couldn't make things any fucking worse.
Damon: This is my favorite of your campaigns.
Damon: Oh that's good, you should tell him that. Repeatedly. Hang it on his door even.
Damon: Send the doc over right now or so help me...
Damon: Who's on it already? I have ideas.
Spencer: People will never be able to say I don't do good things for charity ever again.
Spencer: [shared google doc, because he's not joking]
Spencer: I'm thinking Lyudmila might be our best shot, even thought it pains me to say it.
Spencer: Maybe Eleanor, though. đ
Spencer: Thoughts? Additions?
Spencer: We need to get your brother laid.
Spencer: He's moping more than I am and I literally almost died. It isn't right.
Spencer: Starting a google docs list of potential candidates. xx
Look, you know what happens if you don't spice up the dash. People die. Mistral's doesn't get enough love so...let's do this to it I guess idk. Features Spencer, Cassie, Nora, a bunch of NPCs and a vaguely referenced dude.
Date: Evening of 21/8/24.
Warnings: Kate up to her usual ish.Â
âI hate French food so fucking much. Why are you doing this to me?â
âLaurent recommended the place, and I said Iâdââ
The initial disgust present on Cassandraâs face dissipated in an instant, instead replaced by amusement, and all he could do was grimace in annoyance that he had somehow ended up calling her his best friend. There was no point finishing what he was about to say. Slowly, she lifted her hand from the thankfully (in her humble opinion) foodless table, giving him a dramatic thumbs-up.
âDonât start this shit again.â
âOoh friend!â The blonde cooed loudly.
Too late.
âFrench friend!â
This time it was Nora who chimed in, and he shot her a look that very much said âtraitor.â
The reference earned a few sniggers from the others gathered around the tableâJessica and Llewellyn, in particularâand worse, drew the attention of several onlookers. Spencer didnât care enough to offer them any attempt at an apology for bringing literal farm animals to dinner, but tried to hush the pair of idiot blondes for his own sake.
They were a party of eight and he regretted almost every choice intensely. Cassandra and his former girlfriend, Jessica Mirzoyan, sat opposite, smirking like school girls at his expense. His two sisters flanked her new partner, his cousin, Llewellyn, to his left. Camillaâs husband, Philip, and his childhood friend, Jack, were engaged in their own conversation, entirely separate from the mess at the table, to his right. They were down two, though. Jasper and his new girlfriendâor old, if they were going to get technical about it, he supposedâwere also supposed to be in attendance, but given her apparent reticence sparking concern during their vacation earlier in the month, Spencer suspected it was for the best that they werenât being subject to whatever the fuck this was.
âYou know when you lecture me about being too busy with work to socialise with you?â Spencer began, pointing a finger at Cassandra accusatorily. âMaybe itâs because youâre shit.â
âIâm actually a blessing, but okay.â
âA blessing,â Nora repeated for emphasis, taking a very ladylike sip of her champagne. âSpeaking of blessings, though, where is Alexis? You better not have left her at home with the kids so you can get drunk on a school nightâŠâ
âNah, some shit came up with Gaius. Mum is babysitting.â
âMine, too,â Camilla added.
âSheâs watching all of them?! You realise dad has the larger inheritance, right? This better not be some morbid tactic to send the woman to an early graveâŠâ
The conversation was light-hearted, and he appreciated it given the weight his day had landed squarely on his shoulders. A meeting with Elizabeth Acton had left him reeling so spectacularly, Spencer had almost cancelled last minute so he could go home and try to figure out what the fuck he was going to do. As much as he pretended the people surrounding him were nothing more than irritants, however, the reality was that in that moment, he was more grateful for the distraction than they could begin to understand. Particularly when he was no longer sure that this could be as regular an occurrence as heâd like going forward.
Eventually, the food was delivered by a very proud looking waiter. Most displeased was he, upon returning to check on their progress, to see Cassie pushing hers around the plate like a petulant toddler who wouldâve been better suited to chicken nuggets.
It was the first time everyone had been relatively quiet, though; a contrast to the otherwise bustling restaurant around them.
Until the ambience was disturbed by a shrill shriek coming from outside.
Spencer checked his Rolex. 19:39.
In typical British fashion, everyoneâs eyebrows pulled into a frown, though none commented aloud. It was more an annoyanceâhow dare somebody mildly inconvenience their evening with such unbecoming behaviourâas opposed to concern for what may have caused the outburst. The only one seated at their table that seemed to be worried about what might be happening outside of their little bubble was Nora, typically enough, and she attempted to steal a glance through the window they were seated beside.
âItâs South Ken, Nora. Somebody was probably spotted wearing last seasonâs Chanel,â Jack brushed it off, though not without attempting to get a look, himself.
Spencer almost huffed out a laugh at that, but it died in his throat before it ever reached the others.
Suddenly, something justâŠdidnât feel right.
A few people around them had got up from their tables with similar intent to be nosy; perhaps, when they noticed the normal evening crowds making their way down the street begin to disperse in what was almost certainly not a reaction to somebodyâs poor fashion choices.
It wasnât his first time being caught up in a situation like this, but given how he reacted, one couldâve been fooled into thinking so.
It couldnât have been more than twenty seconds between the first scream and the sound of gunshots ripping through the comfortable normality of Kensington and Chelsea. The onslaught was so loud it couldnât have been anywhere else but right outside, and as much was confirmed as the sounds of nearby windows shattering intermittently pierced the panicked screams of the diners.
Champagne and fois gras was sent flying as people sought cover beneath their tables. Threw them aside in an attempt to get away from the room and the stray bullets finding the interior, entirely. Except it didnât much seem like they were strays. It seemed like someone was aiming them directly at the fucking restaurant.
Pick a table by the window, Laurent had said⊠Itâll be fun, heâd saidâŠ
Spencer reflexively grabbed for Nora, attempting to drag her beneath the table to take cover, but she was attempting her own rescue on Cassie, and she was out of his grip before he ever truly had it. Philip was trying to pull his wife to safety, but the continuous shots in their direction made it hard to tell where was safe, and where was directly in the fucking firing line.
What were they supposed to do? Where were they supposed to go?
Glancing around for something they could all duck behind, every single sense heightened by the immediate shot of adrenaline, he took note that a woman a table over had clearly been struck. Though he could see her moving, the blood pooling around her seemed so swift in its escape, he probably wouldâve wondered if her demise was an inevitability had he not been so focused on trying to help the people he loved avoid a similar fate.
Everything was a blur, eerily reminiscent of another time heâd been showered in glass at the hands of murderers.
Why here? Why now?
A Frenchman lying limp on the blood-stained pavement outside answered both of those questions, but nobody present beneath the table couldâve known that.
It felt like an eternity of ragged breathing and thumping hearts until it finally stopped.
The screaming didnât, though. Nor did the wails of pain. Grief, in some cases, he didnât doubt.
âWhat the fuckââ Jessica, always the calm and collected one, was utterly betrayed by the wavering in her voice. Spencer was surprised she could string a sentence together at all.
âWhatâs happening? Is everyone all right?â Camilla, then.
Cassie was practically catatonic, and he realised quickly, this was not her first encounter with a firing squad. It seemed she was even less equipped to deal with it than he felt. Maybe in some cases, experience wasnât always such a good teacherâŠ
âI think Iâm bleeding,â Nora said shakily.
Spencerâs head shot up immediately in spite of the fact everyone else was too scaredârightfully soâto stray from their hiding spots. What was to say whoever had done this wasnât just fucking reloading? What if this wasnât really over as quickly as they thought it was?
âWhat do you mean? Where?â
âOh, Jesus.â
âItâs justââ His sisterâs attempt at an explanation was cut off as she gasped out in pain, Llewellyn attempting to place pressure on the wound. âItâs just my arm. I think it hit my arm.â
âWe need to get out of here. Is everyone else good?â
âThereâs blood on me, too, but I think Iâmââ Philip started, his slicked-back hair dishevelled for perhaps the first time in his existence, before he was looking right at Spencer. âItâs not mine. Spencer, youâre bleeding.â
What?
Maybe it had been a mistake to assume he felt so detached from that moment because of stress, or anxiety, or pure fight-or-flight reflexes. In fact, he hadnât felt a fucking thing until heâd looked down at himself, the faces of the others around him paling. It didnât require too much searching when âyouâre bleedingâ suddenly felt like the biggest understatement in the world. Evidently, when heâd jumped to his feet in an attempt to grab for his sister, heâd exposed himself to the window.
He hadnât felt a fucking thing then but he sure did now.
The blood was soaking into his dress shirt at a terrifying speed, and he was suddenly very aware of an intense pain growing just beneath his ribcage. Oh, fuck. Â
One hand reached for his upper abdomen, another for the table.
One missed and he found himself falling to the ground, body suddenly weak as though it took seeing it with his own eyes for his brain to fucking register what was happening.
It was enough to break Cassie out of her trance, though.
Mightâve laughed at her crawling toward him hurriedly on all fours like something out of a horror movie if he hadnât felt himself starting to fade a moment later.
Maybe he hated French food now, too.
And maybe, he wouldnât have to worry so much about Elizabeth propping him up to be the next Leader of the Conservative Party if he was fucking dead.
It had been a long summer of just work, so Adriana had been exhausted. With everything. She wasn't even sure if the head she carried on her shoulders was even her own. So, as she lay in the park, she took out a cigarette and lit it. "What?" It wasn't as if she was breaking the law. "If you've got something to say, might as well."
It wasn't often he found himself in Hyde Park. London had plenty of open spaces to search for peace of mind, and one crammed to the brim with obnoxious fucking tourists wasn't exactly appealing. Still, its proximity to work had been convenient, and when his eyes caught sight of Adriana of all people, in this same corner of the park, he couldn't help but wonder whether he'd found his way there by fate.
When had he ever not said something on his mind before..? The politician gave his friend a grimace to remind her he didn't need her permission.
"Well, I just thought you might want to know you look fucking homeless."
Sofie just smirked. "Sounds like my kind of game. Who wants to talk when there are so many better things we could be doing instead?" She was definitely slipping into work mode, but who didn't love a Vixen at a party? With one hand she reached for a shot while she spun the bottle with the other. Throwing back the shot, she grabbed another and held it out to the person the bottle landed on. "I dare you, to do a body shot off of me."
She has only joined the table for a few moments, before the soon to be chaos erupted. "A dare only game?" Her eyebrows raised I'm excitement " I am so down for that" she confirmed, passing silver plater back - once she had done her line.
Of course she'd end up being the first fucker to receive a dare.
She got up from her seat, poured herself a shot of whatever was available. Not caring for the drink of choice.
"Now, the fun is truly about to begin."
She placed the shot glass between Sofia cleavage, bent down, she cleverly managed to grasp the glass around her teeth, tilted hear head back and did the shot in one.
"Easy" she announced, making her way back to her seat.
"Now, its my turn" she spun the bottle landing on Spencer.
"Hmmm" she hummed.
"I dare you, to ask one of the waitresses to allow you to do a line off one of them. You choose the body part."
It was good to see the Acton cousin was so keen to join in. If it had been Cassandra, he didn't doubt for a second they'd have been greeted with a sneer of disgust as she went off in search of more alcohol. The sight of her face planted in a Vixen's tits sure made him make a mental note that he should invite her out more often, though.
The dare for him was relatively tame, considering the waitress passing by had worked for his family for years, and they'd done much worse.
And she'd been so down to play along that even after he'd done the line straight off of her exposed clavicle, much to her apparent enjoyment, Laurent had been the one to take a hold of her wrist and encourage her to join them for the rest of the game. It wasn't as if she could get in trouble when Spencer Berkeley was right there. Wiping at his nose with one arm, he used the other hand to spin the bottle once more.
Sofie Dekker.
"Lose the dress. It'll make it easier when you head over to the bar to get us another bottle of Krug. The trick is, you've got to somehow get it for free."
It hadn't taken him long to polish off the bottle of Krug.
Who needed a glass?
The thing came in handy when one of the Vixens who'd been sat at their table suggested they use it for a game of spin the bottle, though. Rescuing it from his drunk hands, she placed it down on the table top with a mischievous grin at all those who'd gathered around. What could go wrong? Spencer reached out for one of the glasses (that the waitress so dutifully kept replenishing) and threw back the shot of what he assumed was vodka. Hopefully.
"It's truth or dare, baby, but the twist is you can only pick dare."
Spencer Berkeley attends The London Awards @ The Royal Albert Hall.
Date: Friday, March 22nd, 2024.
Escorting: Alexis Larsson.
Wearing: I'm gonna go ahead and assume that's Dolce & Gabbana.
@alexislarsson
Event: Valentine's Day Auction.
Time: After Party.
"I get the feeling I'm in trouble... Though I would just like to offer my defence in advance and say that honestly? I would rather be on a date with Laurent than me. You get to see me all the time. Lame. I've basically done you a favour."
