@proofwhisky. ( gracie & ) tommy.
She's not exactly someone who blends in to society now is she? A ravishing beauty in her own right, Gracie's certainly harnessed the best of her parents' genes, and she's learned to use them to her advantage. Grace pivots through the crowd of the busy casino, as poised as her inner-ballerina, target on-point. She's found the manager, at least the one Tommy's left in charge for the time being. Her charm in place, of course she weasels her way into a lower level position, serving drinks and taking pictures, 'wowing' the patrons so they'd continue to return. The thing is, she may appear nimble, but Grace is far from it, burdened by her harsh upbringing and everything she's left behind.
So, when one 'gentleman' places his hand a little too far down her skirt after her many assertive 'NO's or 'No Thank You's go ignored, a broken finger sets the place a frenzy. That's right - she'd bent his hand back just so, dislocating his thumb and index finger, a little maneuver she'd practiced before obtaining her job here.
"You little bitch!" the man attempts to whimper, his speech slurring, after all he's downed a substantial amount of whisky. As far as damage control, the security guards swirl, Gracie is escorted back to the kitchen where questioning commences. She's prepared for the fight of her life, to be quite honest, men always raising their hands and voices, it's familiar territory. And yet, here she is, no one is screaming, no one is telling her to get the fuck out... she's being tended to.
"You know, if Tommy were here, he would probably do away with 'em himself Miss Gracie." one of the wait staff speaks, offering her a lit cigarette, to which she places between her lips mid-giggle. "I wouldn't know I've never met him." she coos with a dreamy, very old-English lip.
The hustle and bustle quiets down, when it becomes obvious that Tommy's entered the room - a grand entry at that, the entire world shuts down upon his entry.