Where: Glitter Gulch Lounge With: @hxache Amala
His back leaned firmly against the cushion of the bench he was currently camping at, posture relaxed, as if he were simply watching TV on his own couch. Dom claimed the expression of someone unbothered, unentertained. Anyone would question why he even bothered to go there, but he had his reasons.
The place had a reputation— Neon lights and cheap perfume. The practiced sin that came with comfort and calculation. It wasn't as upscale as some of the other places his employers were associated with but it was one he much preferred to those, and, ironically enough, it was known for having some of the best pasta in town. He wasn't sure if that part was irony or intentional.
Dom pushed his half empty glass across the small, round table. It creaked slightly underneath the movement, his arm resting casually across as if he were growing sleepy and considering a nap. He didn't intend to finish it. It wasn't due to restraint rather than boredom. He had occupied this spot to long. His muscles ached to move, becoming impatient under his command to stay still, waiting for someone who wasn't going to show. To be fair, he hadn't exactly invited them.
A sigh that carried more agitation than fatigue pushed out of his chest as he reached for his coat. Then, he saw it; in the corner of his eye was a shimmer.
It was as if the building were a parent flashing a shiny toy at a child in an attempt to get it to sit still longer. She flicked through the corner of vision in a way that caught his attention immediately, head turning to follow her. He watched her with an almost instant change of expression. His head cocked to the side, eyes narrowing in way that could only be read as curiosity. He studied he way light traced over the muscular tones of her shoulders, the shadows under her collar bones, under her hips.
Dominics fingers tapped the table once with a thoughtful, calm consideration. He stood slowly, careful not to rush, his hands slipping into his pockets with an ease that insinuated he had nowhere to be, not quickly anyway. Everything about his being suggested decision rather than impulse.
His eyes never left her as he crossed the room, an unashamed gaze that held with an almost concerning steadiness. He watched her like a target. As he approached, his lip curved into a crooked display of recognition, not quite a smile.
When he stopped in front of her he adjusted all his weight to one foot, leaning slightly as if there were no need for him to be on guard, as if he were simply untouchable.
"Guess tonight's not a waste of time after all." He offered, tone still displaying that calm, uncaring nature he carried throughout the night. It was cocky, at best.
He looked her over again, more slowly this time, the way a sculptor might study his tools before beginning work. He already knew she was trouble. That was half the fun.
