Seneca remembered the phrase in her mother’s voice, always spoken when Seneca was small and got into something she shouldn’t have; back when Seneca was still someone’s daughter. Later her mother had sneered it in public when someone couldn’t tame a wily toddler as if she had never been in a similar predicament. More recently it reminded Seneca of the behavior of grown men.
Tonight the club seemed to be rampant with overgrown toddlers prone to throw fits upon hearing the word no. Seneca knew it was a symptom of the bar either over-serving the patrons or some of the more ambitious patrons stirring pills into their tumblers. Typically Seneca was able to dodge the grabbing hands of over-entitled guests or one of the watchful henchman would skulk over like an animated garbage sack full of hams and forcibly remove the offender. Tonight, however, the security staff was shorthanded and the alcohol flowed freely.
There had been one particular patron far too invested in her company that night. Despite the fact that Seneca had made a killing sapping his wallet, she was more than ready to call it quits on the man for the evening. Unfortunately for her, he had managed to find her at every juncture. The moment she thought she was in the clear again there he was, a hand on her bare skin making her feel dirty wherever he touched her, fingers pulling greedily at whatever strap or clasp they could find, touching her hair, hot breath against her skin, whispering the debased things he wanted to do with her and begging her to name a price.
The crowd was thinning out, but Seneca knew her special friend for the night hadn’t left. The fewer people in the club, the easier it would be for him to single her out. She was done for the night and she’d made enough to pass her stage fee off to the owner, but Seneca felt in Savannah’s nonetheless. If this man was emboldened enough to lay hands on her despite her discomfort and protests in the club well within the public eye, she doubted much of anything would happen in the poorly lit streets where he would find her alone travelling home. And based on his track record that night, he would find her.
There weren’t many places in the club with restricted access and the added security of someone Seneca felt she could half trust without getting them or herself in trouble. Although she hadn’t spoken with him in nearly the week that had passed since their first interaction, Mateo and his goon squad seemed like her best option at the moment, and she needed to make a stop at his illicit pharmacy anyhow.
The woman attempted to look as nonplussed as possible approaching the door to the room Mateo was working out of. She glanced up at the guard to her left, doe eyed and smiling coyly. “How you doin’ tonight, cupcake?” she asked, hand wrapping around the handle. Maybe they wouldn’t let her in, especially if she was sassy, but Seneca felt it was safer to be in trouble with one of these men than a paying customer.
WHO: Beau & Belle
WHEN: 1/22/17
WHERE: Beau’s studio
WHAT: Presents and affection and faux proposals, oh my!
Belle: Still wearing a stolen Patriots jersey (and little else besides that and a pair of red pumps), Belle rushed from her car into Beau's studio out of the cold. It wasn't like it was getting any warmer, but she had a terrible habit of forgetting that inside temperature and wardrobe didn't equate to what would be comfortable outside. Setting aside a small brown bag, she shrugged off the jacket she'd thrown on over the jersey. "Mr. Alistair, your five o' clock massage is here!" she shouted in her best 'sultry secretary' voice.
Beau sauntered into the room with a grin spread wide over his face. "Am I getting the deluxe happy ending package today?" The facade ended with a very thorough once over before he was rushing forward and tugging Belle into a tight hug, pulling her up off of the ground and twirling her around in a way he'd thought about doing a hundred times but had never had a chance to. "Sorry, couldn't resist getting hands on with the new masseuse," he said teasingly, going back into character if just to attempt throwing her off balance.
Belle: He managed to surprise a laugh out of her, her arms going around his neck to hold on tight as he spun her around. "Qu'est-ce que c'est? No, honey, I'm the one getting a massage. The happy ending is up to you, mon cher." Still grinning ear to ear, she leaned in to brush her lips over his jaw, making her way to his ear with barely a touch, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I have something for you."
Beau stilled the hug but didn't put her down, hands going down to the backs of her thighs in what he'd normally view as a dangerous move and holding her there. "Vous manquer, belle." His French was shaky at best but he could follow along hoping he'd gotten it right. "Massages are generally best done naked... though you're already halfway there, sweets." His eyes fluttered shut and oh but he was reigning himself in. "Oh? Care to share?"
Belle: She caught her lower lip in her teeth when his hands gripped her thighs, the jersey a dress on her but not quite big enough to cover everything, especially with her arms lifted around his neck. "Absolutely." Going for broke, she sucked the lobe of his ear gently, briefly, before releasing it and sliding out of his grip. It was dangerous territory to be flirting so profoundly with Beau, for a number of reasons, but she couldn't help a little teasing. Picking up the plain paper bag, she handed it to him. "I stopped into this camera shop for supplies and found this. There's also some mystery rolls of film in there, if you're inclined. I thought it spoke to your adventurous and voyeuristic spirit." (Book: http://www.blurb.com/b/5762955-san-franc... )
Beau let her slip out of his grip with the smallest of sighs as he willed himself to behave, knowing that even if she wasn't his student he still needed to tamp it down quick. The only thing he had going for his mission to ignore any chemistry was that there were presents and no sane human being chooses staring at someone's bare thighs over presents when there's an option presented. "Adventurous and voyeuristic spirit is the best compliment I've gotten all year," he teased as he carefully opened the bag and pored over the new treasure. "Belle! This is so bloody cool. Oh, this is going to be my inspiration this week." Beau paused, tilting his head. "I wonder if we'll find something scandalous on these rolls of film? My bet's on someone going for the nudie shots. Want to wager?"
Belle: His reaction was well worth kind of missing the hug already, her smile mirroring his as he looked over the gifts. She'd always been a little sentimental, and more often than not a bit excessive, with gift-giving, but it usually paid off and this was no exception. Humming and pretending to consider his proposition she stepped up to him again and wrapped her arms around his waist. "I hope there's nudie shots on there, too, so we'll bet on the quality. If they're tasteful, classy, I win. If they're less than tasteful, you do. Winner gets a proper massage from the loser. Deal?"
Beau He couldn't stop the smile that was all over the place, cheeks pink from the excitement of it. Presents really were top 10 of his favorite things. Especially thoughtful presents because those were like finding a needle in a haystack. Almost immediately his hands went around her chest, tugging her in to a tight hug before letting it loosen. "Deal. Though who loses tasteful, classy shots? You're just setting me up to win sweets. Want my hands on you that badly?"
"I'd be lying if I said the idea hadn't crossed my mind, handsome." Laughing, Belle laid her head on his shoulder and took one of the rolls of film, squinting at I as though she could see through the cartridge. "That's the fun of found photos. No one takes pictures, especially not on film, and means to lose them. They're all special." Shrugging, she gave him a friendly peck on his cheek. "What are you working on?"
Beau was such a sucker for affection, and Belle was one of his best girls. Which is why he was dreading the school year coming up - he wasn't Martin, he couldn't get away with nearly as much, but he didn't like having to go without this either. "Unless you just want to use up film. Which is a waste and you shouldn't be allowed to have it. Maybe it was a couple coming in on vacation? A cheating couple, so he takes pictures of her that are gorgeous and glam so he can lie easier if they're found," Beau mused, nuzzling her hair and giving her an easy grin. "Not much. Still have a few baked good from what I snagged from Malcolm the other day. Want some?"
Belle: "A recent divorcee wanting some boudoir photos to reclaim her womanhood," she suggested smiling as he nuzzled her, fingers sliding up to the back of his neck to tug gently at a curl of hair. Since the semester didn't start until morning she didn't mind indulging herself a little bit. Despite being a vestige of her past there was a sort of ease with Beau that she enjoyed too much to ignore completely. Although if there was one thing to get her attention away from physical contact, it was food. "Mmm, that was sexy. Say that again, but this time a little slower. Maybe take your clothes off to really seal the deal."
Beau was soaking up the little sparks flying at the way she handled him, but he figured as long as he didn't say anything then maybe time would just pause for a bit. "An older man wanting tasteful nudes to send to his new lady across the seas," he murmured, though Beau was as distracted by the idea of food as she was. "Want some baked goods?" The words rolled off the tongue and he deliberately thickened his accent and added a drawl, pushing down on the waistband of the jersey pants he had on before bursting out laughing and leading her to the kitchen. "Sorry, kitchen's only clothes off for company I'm sleeping with. Want to sit in here for a bit? Or head to the living room?"
Belle: Alas, missed opportunities. I should have slept with you back in New York." She followed him to the kitchen, unable to resist tucking a fingertip into his waistband, her nail just barely scraping his hips, on her way past him. Grinning innocently, she hoisted herself up onto the counter and let her feet dangle. "I'm good in here. Unless you like the view better form in there." Plucking a croissant up, she broke off a piece and made a noise of appreciation at the taste. "He okay? Mal, I mean. Although you, too." She pulled him over to stand in front of her, the joking gone out of her expression and replaced with concern. "Martin didn't tell me exactly what happened, or who was involved. And I don't need details. But it doesn't take much to put it together."
Beau "I should've made a move in New York." He grinned back over his shoulder, a full body shudder going through him at the unexpected touch. Fucking tease. "Oh no, the view is perfect from exactly where I'm standing." His coffee was poured but he nearly dropped it when she mentioned him and Mal. Damn, but she was too perceptive for her own good. At least Beau knew Belle wasn't going to tell a soul. Explicit trust was pretty strong between them. He just knew her too well to doubt her. "Yeah, he seems to be. I... think I am? Gonna go by Martin's office later and make sure we're good too. It's... it's.... tense in a way I didn't expect. Man still doesn't get how willing I'd be to jump his bones either - or else it was a flat out unvoiced no. Can't lose friends over a roll in the hay. Even a damned good one. Uh, was... Martin okay?"
Belle: Belle took his coffee and sipped, wrinkling her nose at the bitter taste and reminding herself to bring him some decent beans. She still didn't have the whole story, but she didn't need to to feel sympathy for all three of them. Her hand sunk into his hair again and she brought him down enough to press their foreheads together. "He was a little off, when he first showed up, but he's been texting Mal, and you I guess. He gets a certain look on his face when he's worried." She shook her head a little. "I think he just wants things to be okay with everyone. It threw me a little, I didn't take him for being the type to worry about that sort of thing. Guess I underestimated how much Mal means to him. You, too."
Beau rested a hand on his stomach as he tried not to let his nerves bubble up all over again. The physical distress this weekend had caused was palpable, but Belle's easy affection ebbed the most painful of it away. "Yeah? I can't say I know him well enough to know what he'd do, but Mal seems to be pretty close to him." He chewed on his lip and let his eyes close, focusing on how close she was and the way Belle always seemed to know just what to do. "Don't count my chickens before they hatch, m'love, gonna find out tonight if we're even still friends. They could just wanna toss me out, y'know? Ban me from the friendship circle or something."
Belle: She could feel how tense he was, her fingertips kneading at the knots at the back of his neck and pulling him closer for no other reason than comfort. There was a time for flirtation but this wasn't it. "No one in their right mind would ban you from their friendship circle, Beau." She smiled a little knowing how dramatic he could be. "Martin doesn't strike me as the type to see anyone he doesn't want to see. And if Mal is giving you baked goods then clearly you're not hated there." Taking his face in her hands, she gave him a gentle kiss, closing her eyes and resting her head against his again as she pulled back from it. "If they decide you're so unworthy, which is again unlikely, you and I will quit this place and run away to Morocco."
Beau let her move him in, let her seep the comfort in that he needed. Usually things didn't get to him like this, but anything that could mess up a friendship - or more than one - left him a little... off balance. "Have I mentioned lately that you're my favorite?" He grinned sheepishly, leaning a little more heavily into her. "So I'm not the only one that views Malcolm's food as synonymous for friendship? I always assumed if he didn't like you he'd refuse to see you." Despite the flippant replies he was taking it to heart. The kiss was returned very lightly before Beau circled his arms around her and held her close. "That's the best plan I've ever heard. We could get a house by the ocean and watch the world from our thrones."
Belle: "No, I totally equate all friendship with people who give me food. I've been told I'm like a dog that way. Or maybe that's not what they meant," she joked lightly and turned her head, nuzzling her nose against his jaw. This was how he worked through things and she got it, it was similar to how she coped or dealt with a difficult situation. Something physical to ground and jokes to lift the spirits. "House rules. No clothing inside at all, minimal clothing outside. Snacks on hand always. Aaaand..." She thought for a moment, lips pressed to his chin. "Wild sex, every day. That will show 'em."
Beau "Ha! If that's not what they meant then - well, I can't beat them all up for you, but I can try." One hand rubbed over her back, and it was as much a thank you as it was returning what she was giving him. It made it easier to breathe and to stop his own thoughts, and he couldn't be grateful enough that they'd fallen into this rhythm. "So you don't want me in your friend group? Then guess what, I've got the most gorgeous girl in my house and my bed, and you're stuck being friends with each other. Without sex. Or snacks. So ha." He said it with a heavy accent, and it might not have been a bad image at all, but he laughed at the sheer hilarity of the looks he thought he'd get if he ever said those words to either of the men. "It's the ultimate punishment."
Belle: "My hero," she said, laughing against his stubble. He always had good hands and everything else that had been on her mind, coming back down to earth after a weekend away from everything, was eased as he rubbed along her spine. It helped too that he seemed lighter, not so burdened as he was before. "The ultimate revenge," she countered. "You have to take my name when we inevitably marry for the lavish and ridiculous wedding, though. Beau Beauregard is too good to pass up." Sliding her hand from his neck up to his face, she traced his features. "It wouldn't be so bad, hm? Call it a break glass in case of emergency plan."
Beau beamed at her, deliberately rubbing his cheek against hers again. It was so easy just to sit here like this. So relaxing. He didn't understand what people did, now, when they didn't have someone like Belle to calm things down in their head. "How many times would you tell the world my name just so you'd get to repeat Beau Beauregard? I'm betting 100 before the honeymoon is even over." Beau watched her with a quiet smile, nuzzling in almost like a cat would. "That should be our 10 Years plan. I've seen them in American movies. 'If we're still single in ten years, then....'"
Belle: "Oh, at least two hundred by the time we leave Fiji. That's where we're honeymooning, by the way. Got it all planned out, I'm efficient like that. Beau Beauregard." Coffee and breads forgotten, Belle matched his smile with one of her own as she danced her fingertips across his face. He had a smile that lit up his eyes and she reminded herself to practice more with her portraits. Maybe by the time this plan came to fruition she'd be able to capture that glint on canvas. "Ten years plan. I think thats reasonable. And-" she leaned in closer, the tracing hand trailing back into his hair again. "By then I won't be your student."
Beau "Does that mean I get no say in the wedding either? Fiji sounds like a nudists dream," Beau teased, hands wandering down to her waist and settling there where it was comfortable. The easy way she touched him was something he didn't have with too many of his friends, and it was something he could very easily get used to. "Oh," he said on the edge of a sigh, grin spreading enough he could feel it stretching his face. "You are an absolute genius, love. The world's going to be stunned. Love story for the ages. Friends, turned student-teacher, turned naked and married on a beach in Fiji."
Belle: Laughing quietly, Belle tried to imagine it. It was almost easy, although she doubted Beau would still be single in ten years. He was a wanderer, but with a loyal streak that begged to be settled eventually, so long as the wanderlust was fed and happy. For her own part, Belle didn't plan to be Mrs. Anyone again. As nice of a fantasy as it was, it was just that. A fantasy. "They'll make a movie about us. It's too bad we won't be friends with a famous writer anymore, we'll have to find someone else to do the screenplay." She played with his hair idly, leaning back enough to meet his eyes with a grin and a shake of her head. "And how will we remind ourselves of this promise?"
Beau willingly went along with the fantasy - though he knew getting married was something that wouldn't happen to him unless they were both still single in 10 years, it was fun and fun was what he did best. "We could always make him pay us to produce it. We're so famous by then that he'd be knocking down our door to get a chance to put us in his screenplay," Beau said sagely, knocking their foreheads and grinning back cheesily. "Oh! I've got an idea." He moved over to the drawer he kept the bread in and pulled one of the twist ties off, twisting it around her ring finger with a flourish and an ugly bow on top. "There. This is why I never tried sculpting."
Belle: She was loathe to let him go but watched with a curious and delighted grin as he produced a twist tie. She held out her hand for him, laughing and wiggling her fingers when he finished. "It's /perfect/, darling. Not a diamond in the world could compare." Still smiling, clearly unable to help it at this point, she took his face in her hands and drew him into another kiss. This time she indulged a little, lingering at his lower lip and not pulling away just yet. "I should go, you have a date."
Beau kissed over the ring with an even grander flourish, quite proud of himself for finding something that'd work on such short notice. "But of course, a chuisle mo chroí, you deserve nothing but the very best." Maybe Beau should have pulled away. Maybe he should've focused on the fact that she was a student, but they'd been friends for 4-something years now, and if he was honest cupping her cheek and turning the kiss into something proper (if brief) was much more enjoyable. "Come see me after classes tomorrow?"
Belle: As she sighed into the kiss, Belle reminded herself of all the reasons that it could only be a kiss. At the end of the day she valued Beau above her own urges and she wouldn't see him losing a job that he deserves for their lack of self control. Inwardly she was glad that she'd come to see him after a wholly satisfying weekend away, or else the decision might have been a different one. "Absolutely. Good luck tomorrow, future Mr. Beauregard." Giving him a last peck on the cheek she hopped off the counter and smacked him on the butt on her way out, laughing as she left.
Lisbeth honestly wasn’t sure what she was doing packing her things up so slowly after the show. On a normal night, she would have had her instruments tucked away safe and ready to go in fifteen minutes flat. The group had played a good set, a healthy number of people trickling in and out of the bar as they had played. Tonight, she was dawdling, and she was grateful that none of her band mates had called her out for it, even though it wouldn’t have been too hard to guess that she had been distracted or stalling.
For most of the night, Lisbeth had settled on second string, not really jumping at or asking for opportunities to steal the show. For a band with multiple members capable of leading—instrumentally or vocally—they’d struck a good balance, but tonight Lisbeth considered herself lucky she hadn’t stumbled through half the set. She had shown up ready, but her mind had been elsewhere pretty much the entire night.
The sound of a growingly familiar voice ringing out last call grounded her again. She peered over her should at Ray momentarily, before turning her attention to packing up the sound equipment. She snapped the case shut and bid a few of her bandmates a good night, ignoring Seamus’ looks of mild concern as he resolved to call it a night himself. Only a handful of people were in the bar, swaying slightly with tiredness or drunkenness, Lisbeth wasn’t sure which.
The girl grabbed her guitar case by the handle, swaying just slightly like the others as she stood with it. It was a slight head rush—she’d been sneaking sips or accepting the small number of drinks smuggled to her throughout the night. Tonight it seemed to have added up more quickly than she thought it would, loosening her up just slightly more than she was used to on nights like this—other nights were an entirely different story.
Propping her guitar against the bar top, she slid onto one of the benches and waited for Ray to have a spare moment, arms crossed and resting on the counter. A trace of a smile altered her features just slightly as Ray approached. She was beginning to tolerate him. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were following me,” she mused, her accent making it a little difficult to distinguish between a joke or sincerity. “I know last call was a few minutes ago, but you can handle one more drink, can’t you?” She wondered if Ray remembered she was underage, if he cared. “I don’t have cash, but I can help you close.”
Crossing the sea felt easy, natural, far different from the clumsy, stunted way she had made her way back from land. Her sisters had all possessed their own legs once they had come of age and spilled the blood of their first sailor. However, they were never used except in extreme cases of defense. It was taboo to breach the shore, leaving the sea only permissible in the most extreme of emergencies. She had felt outside of herself from the moment she had been wrestled away from her home waters and into that man’s clutches, then passed off to the hands of another. She had clutched the bloody head in her hands as she made her way back to the waves, her blood streak legs shaking unsteadily. Andromeda was irreverent to the kings’ head she had torn from his body the moment he’d made himself vulnerable to her after a few days’ time. For her it was no more and no less than a bargaining chip for the legs that carried her back to her freedom.
Andromeda felt her body glide through the water, cutting the currents at a fast clip. It would have been easy for her to journey back to her home, and she doubted her cruel captor of a sailor would ever be the wiser. Somehow that seemed too merciful for her taste. She grasped two trophies in her hand, one that glittered and one she had gored.
Finding the ship somehow felt natural. It was as if a number of new instincts had been granted the moment the hot, wet feel of this so called king’s blood stained her hands. Humans, she felt, were fragile and undeserving of such titles. Those who supposedly held power, she had learned, were perhaps even more fragile than the rest. Her hands itched to feel the same thrill with Nathanael, the warm rush of blood, the pull of the tendons and muscles before they snapped, and the wrenching smell and sounds as she ripped head from body with her bear hands.
This was at the forefront of her mind when she set foot in Nathanael’s captain’s quarters. Her footing was steadied by her determination. Her cold, angry eyes caught sight of him sleeping and she glanced down at the items in both her hands. She lifted the crown she had collected from the king’s inanimate head and replaced it on her own, a trophy she would keep. His head, however, was a trophy she had brought to offer up to Nathanael, an omen of what he ought to expect from her.
Andromeda’s front was still stained with blood, darker in places where it had saturated like the curves of her body, her nail beds, between her fingers, staining the ends of her golden hair. She wore nothing but the crown on her head and the war paint of the blood, standing over him silently. A sense of rage welled in her stomach as she watched Nathanael’s chest rise and fall at a steady pace, no doubt he hadn’t lost a moment of sleep since his transaction with the foolish ruler. She would ensure that the trade lead to a mutual undoing of them both.
The head she had in her possession was discolored, gray and waterlogged. It was gored at the edges, this tendon and that artery hanging unevenly and torn. Its watery eyes saw nothing, but gaped ahead in alarm matching the open mouth, a bit of vegetation from the journey hanging limply from it. Soaked and bloated from the trip as it was, Andromeda found it an improvement from the lustful, possessive expression it had laid upon her at first sight. She would slaughter any man who dared to possess or tame her. Gingerly, she rest the head on the pillow opposite from him, it’s death make staring him directly in the face to greet him when he woke.
She padded across the room, silent and deliberate in her steps. She lounged on the nearest seat watching him in a deliberative silence. She was debating with herself whether to kill him that very moment with no warning or self indulgent monologue, or to wait for him to open his eyes to the partial corpse she had brought for him. Ultimately, the wish to see his reaction to the carnage of her unexpected return won out and she waited silently from her perch for him to wake up to the faded, gaping eyes of her first kill.
SUMMARY → Lulu’s date with Brett goes up in flames and she ends up spending the rest of the night with Jonas instead.
It was the night of the big dance, and Jonas was just as unenthused about it as he'd been since he'd found out Lulu was going with Brett. At first, he hadn't known why it bothered him so much; he'd always known he enjoyed Lulu's company, but she was his little sister's best friend, and he wouldn't have been freaking out like this if Violet was the one dating the douche instead. But as time had worn on, it had all come into perspective, and he'd almost skipped out on the thing completely to avoid having to see them together. It was only at the urging of the guys in computer club that he'd showed up at all, and as he'd walked up the steps to the school, he'd had a bad feeling about the news vans that seemed to be accumulating around the school. What were they doing here? The only person of interest he could think of (aside from his friend that cloned things, but he'd insisted no one cared that much about that) was Princess Lulu, and with a sense of dread, he hung back by the door instead of heading into the gym, wanting to make sure that that tool Brett actually helped her get past the crowd okay instead of trying to soak up the limelight for himself. It was what any good friend would do, right?
Lulu was trying really hard to be grateful to Grandmère for coming through for her and forcing her parents and Mr.G to let her go to the dance with Brett. But so far Brett was making it impossible for her. First of all, even though he'd taken her to a restaurant with plenty of vegetarian options, he'd gone ahead and ordered her a steak. She'd made the most of it by eating the side salad and passing the steak to Klaus, while Brett didn't notice at all since he'd also invited what seemed to be every single friend he'd ever made in his life on what Lulu had just assumed was going to be a date for just the two of them. Then, if that hadn't been bad enough, the entire group had been so busy with their steak and attempting to get tipsy, that it had been almost an hour into the dance before Brett had been ready to go to the dance. And then, when they'd gotten to the dance, the front steps were absolutely swamped with paparazzo that were clearly waiting for her. For a moment, it seemed nice as Brett helped her run up the stairs to the school doors, but the niceness of the moment was ruined exactly three seconds later when Brett had taken advantage of all the attention on the two of them and the screams for a kiss between the two of them to pull Lulu close and plant a huge kiss right on her mouth pretty much out of nowhere.
Jonas felt stupid, waiting around for Lulu for so long, and he even ducked his head inside of the dance a couple of times to see if he'd managed to miss her somehow. But Brett and his cronies were nowhere to be seen, and the mob of reporters were still outside, so Jonas hung by the door talking to a few guys from computer club who wanted to get away from the noise, and acting casual about the fact that he was on the lookout for a princess and a douchebag. It wasn't hard to notice when they arrived; the noise outside swelled, and Jonas's head snapped towards the scene outside just in time to see Brett putting his stupid lips all over Lulu's. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but her body language seemed so not into it, and he pushed towards the door to get a closer look (and to help, if Lulu needed it).
Lulu was so shocked by the sudden kiss she stayed frozen in place, even for a few seconds after it had ended to the point that Brett had to tug her into the building so they could finally get to the dance. Only after that Lulu's shock wore completely off and she quickly went from stunned mode to being pissed. She was now certain that Jonas had been right and Brett really didn't give a crap about her past the fact that she was royalty. Lulu didn't even bother to check her surroundings before confronting Brett about every single sin he'd committed on their date concluding it with a single "And you weren't even a good first kiss!" Before Klaus showed up from where he'd been parking the car and spooked Brett from attempting to make any kind of response to her tirade. It was only after Brett walked away, muttering in annoyance about what a crazy person she was, that Lulu finally relaxed and realized that she wasn't the only one out there.
Jonas should have known that he wouldn't need to step in; Lulu may say she was the world's worst princess, but she could be as commanding as any world leader when she was fired up, the way she was right now. He leaned against the wall, eyebrows raised in admiration as he watched Lulu give Brett a piece of her mind, and he even had to bring a hand up to cover his laugh as she told Brett the kiss wasn't even that great anyway. That would definitely be a huge blow to his ego. "Nicely done," Jonas told Lulu, grinning at her proudly after Brett had sulked off. His grin faltered slightly, though, when he remembered that this was supposed to be some perfect night she'd built up in her head, and instead he'd just been there to witness the whole thing go to shit right before his very eyes. His gaze softening, he thought about hugging her, but then thought better of is, instead just asking, "You doing okay?"
Lulu widened her eyes when Jonas spoke up. Of course he would be there to see her terrible first kiss and the subsequent verbal beat down that followed. Just to make the night as embarrassing as physically possible. For a moment Lulu considered ripping into him too, just for being there and grinning. But her mind was quickly changed as Jonas' gaze softened and he asked her if she was okay, reminding Lulu that he wasn't the enemy here. Lulu's shoulders sagged a little as she frowned defeatedly, knowing just as well as Jonas did that she should've listened to him from the start. "I guess so." Lulu answered honestly, raking her fingers through the blown extra straight for the dance blonde hair resting on of her shoulders. "But you could keep from saying 'told you so' that would make me feel a little better."
Jonas pressed his knuckles against his sides, hearing them pop as his eyes narrowed, clearly puzzled. "Why would I say 'I told you so'? I mean, yeah, Brett sucks..." Jonas started, cutting himself off midsentence when he realized that his words were probably teetering a little too close to 'I told you so' despite his best intentions. He wrung his hands together, trying again. "I didn't want you to have a bad time tonight," he promised her, his stomach twisting at the dejected sound of her voice. "But hey, maybe we can still go in there and hang out with your friends and save the night? If nothing else, people are going to want to see the girl epic enough to tell off the school's biggest tool." He reached out his hand, as if to lead her towards the dance, then quickly let it fall, not sure what to do besides try everything to make her night better.
Lulu managed to smile despite herself when it sounded like Jonas was going to slip and say I told you so anyway and ended up fully smiling when he tried to correct himself. "I didn't think you did. But alright, let's go in, I'm sure Violet might actually talk to me again after she hears this one." Lulu giggled, pausing slightly when Jonas reached out and then immediately took his hand back. "Hey, why were you out here in the hall when I got here anyway? I'm a little over an hour late."
Jonas 's cheeks flushed slightly at Lulu's question; he'd thought that in the heat of the moment, she'd just let it slide that he'd been hanging around in the hall. "Wanted to -- " Jonas almost let the words 'see you' slip off the end of his tongue, but then fanned himself with a free hand. "Get out of the dance for a minute, it was hot. Plus I saw all those cameras out there earlier. Someone had to go count how many different news outlets showed up before they gave up." Jonas's excuses were flimsy and lame, but if it meant he got to see Lulu flash him that smile again, he didn't care how stupid he would have sounded to anyone else. "But you're totally right, Vi's been talking about you ton, it's like she's just been waiting for an excuse to break the silence."
Lulu nodded. "How many did you count before I got here?" She asked with an amused grin before brightening at the at idea of Violet wanting to break the silence. "She has? Really! Then c'mon, let's go in there." Lulu said, using up the rest of the courage she had left post-Brettgate to take Jonas's hand herself and lead him into the gym where her friend group was easily spotted once they came in. True to what Jonas had said Violet really did actually seem eager to speak to her once she saw Lulu entering with her brother.
Jonas grinned at how naturally Lulu's hand slipped into his as he started rattling off all the news networks he'd seen. "... and NBC and CUNY TV, and New York One -- I was up to at least 10 way before you even got here. I've never seen so many in one place before, you're kind of a big deal, Princess. It's too bad they didn't get shots of you yelling at Brett for being a creep; that would make for a really good role model story, for little girls who are having a hard time saying no." He'd sworn he was going to stop talking about Brett, but it had been hard to resist one last jab before it was dropped for good. After all, it wasn't an issue now, and he was the one all eyes were on as he slipped into the dance with Lulu, not some loser senior. He probably should have dropped her hand, but instead he hung onto it for support as Violet came over, her eyes wide as saucers. "Did you really dump Brett? Ew, did you dump him for my brother?" she asked the pair, as her eyes trailed down to where their hands were still linked. She didn't dwell, though, instead acting as if nothing had happened the past few weeks and urging, "Tell me everything."
Lulu blushed and wrinkled her nose in embarrassment at all of news networks that now had footage of her mortifying first kiss. "Maybe I should've hit him as soon as he kissed me. That would've at least been an interesting role model story." She said with a giggle right before Violet came over. Lulu was amused by Violet blatantly pretending that the last few weeks had never happened, but went along with it anyway. "I didn't dump him for your brother, Silly. We just saw each other in the hall after I got mad at Brett." Lulu explained quickly, before giving Violet the full low down of the entire night, while quietly hoping neither of the Alvarez siblings would really notice that since entering the gym room, Lulu hadn't made a single move to let go of Jonas' hand and probably wasn't going to until Jonas did so himself.
Jonas laughed at the mental image of Lulu, who worried about the effects of almost everything she did, actually hauling off and hitting someone. "I would have loved to have seen that -- it's probably a good thing you didn't, missing it might have made me finally want to start working on that bedroom bomb after all," he told her with a wink. Jonas hadn't even realized that he'd felt a little bit tense around her ever since she'd agreed to go out with Brett for real; before that, it had been easy to write that off as some dumb fantasy crush and not really the type of guy Lulu would ever date. But seeing her shoot him down like that, and again hearing her explain the whole thing to Violet, Jonas stood up a little taller, feeling completely normal again. Maybe even a little better than normal, since he already was holding her hand when the music shifted into a slower song. "How about a dance?" he asked, cocking his head to the side and grinning at her. "Since the slow ones are the only ones where I'm sure you won't end up tripping all over yourself."
Lulu rolled her eyes at the bomb reference. "If that's all it would take for you to consider building that bomb, you've got an entirely too short fuse." Lulu said, grinning at her own pun and pointedly ignoring the alarmed look on Klaus' face. Even though Lulu really was kind of upset about how things had turned out with Brett she really was grateful that dropping him seemed to be resulting in her and Violet becoming friends again.And when Jonas asked her to dance Lulu had started nodding before his question had even finished, she didn't even mind the crack about her clumsiness. Lulu turned back to Violet to ask for her permission to end the conversation there, but all Violet did in response was give Jonas an indecipherable look before grabbing a suprisingly dapper looking Dimitri to dance leaving Lulu and Jonas alone.
Jonas shrugged innocently at Klaus; he would hope by now that Lulu's bodyguard knew he was no real danger to the princess, and hopefully by the fact that he hadn't reached into his jacket to flash his gun Jonas's way meant that he knew it was serious. "I should probably watch what I say in front of your bodyguard, huh?" Jonas's smile widened when she didn't even hesitate to say yes to dancing, and he steered her towards the dance floor, finally letting go of her hand just so that she could drop it to her waist instead. He followed her gaze towards Dmitri and Violet, laughing a little as he said, "I wonder if this means she can get him to stop making so much noise during G&T..." Jonas didn't really want to talk about his sister anymore, though. After all the crap that had gone on, he was standing here dancing with Lulu, and if he was honest with himself that was always where he'd wanted this night to turn out. Jonas ran his bottom lip between his teeth then finally said "I'm sorry about how stuff turned out with Brett."
Lulu actually looked up at Klaus and then back at Jonas before shrugging. "As long as you don't threaten to blow me up too I think we're cool." Lulu's happy smile widened even more when Jonas' did when she agreed to dance with him. It might have been a pity thing, but it was still better than what Brett had done, so she didn't mind that much. Her glance slid over to Dimitri and made a face after Jonas mentioned him. "Probably not. But we might get to hear some less boring crap through the closet door." Lulu frowned at the mention of Brett again."I'm not. At least I know now how terrible he is before I had to spend the rest of pining over a guy who never gave even the tiniest crap about me. If anything, I feel bad for Ashley a little bit. How much do you want to bet that they'll be back to making out on my locker by monday?"
Jonas was surprised by how quickly Lulu seemed to be bouncing back from what had happened. Most girls would have gone home by crying now, but not her. It was just one of the many things that impressed him about her, but instead of saying that, instead of playing his cards and making it obvious he'd probably wished he could have been her date to this thing instead of him to begin with, he just laughed at her comment. "You think it'll take until Monday? I'm surprised he hasn't skulked out of here and gone looking for her already." Jonas scooted a little bit closer to her, partially because it was easier to talk over the noise that way and partially because he just liked the way his arms fit around her waist like this. "It's his loss anyway - now I get to dance with the coolest girl here instead of him getting to."
Lulu pretended to look around the gym room for Brett and Ashley. "Well I don't see either of them so it could be happening right now. " Lulu giggled, internally screeching as Jonas got even closer to her and then called her the coolest girl at the dance. "You are not." Lulu snorted rather unprincessly, as she blushed a bright bright red, completely giving away how flattered she was even under the low lights of the gym.
Jonas thought her blush might be a trick of the light, but when he was sure that it wasn't just his imagination playing games with him, he chuckled, tilting his head down so that his mouth was close to her ear and it was easier for her to hear him. "You know, you've probably had way more embarrassing things than me complimenting you happen tonight, Lulu," he told her, his own cheeks feeling a little hotter from the surprise of having that effect on her. He didn't blush easily, though, and his shy grin was the only tell of what he was really thinking.
Lulu was certain that Jonas knew what he was doing now. If that compliment wasn't enough, he was now crazy close to her and speaking directly into her ear. "I know!" Lulu groaned, even more embarrassed about getting called out. "Yet somehow you have more of an effect on me than some gross guy kissing me in front of, how many was it again? Ten news crews? What the heck!" Lulu said, completely avoiding looking up at Jonas as she spoke to him.
Jonas knew it might be cruel, trying to get a reaction out of her like this, but he'd thought they'd had a connection before, only to hear her going on and on about Brett for weeks. It had deflated all hope he'd ever had of maybe someday being more to her than he was now - and maybe he still wouldn't be any time soon, with how crazy her life was right now. But if nothing else he'd leave tonight's dance with a new surge of hope, and with the knowledge that if she DID like another guy who wasn't him, at least it wouldn't be a jerk like Brett again. "Maybe it's because I actually mean it... more than you can say for Brett, right?" Jonas teased, resting his head against the top of hers. "Don't worry, if you want to blush again I'm not looking this time."
Lulu rolled her eyes this time at Jonas' teasing and probably would've laughed and agreed had it not been for Jonas resting his head on the top of hers as they danced, killing her slowly inside yet again. Luckily she managed to recover faster because of his teasing. "You're lucky you can't see me this time, because if looks could kill tomorrow's headlines wouldn't be about that stupid kiss." Lulu replied snarkily
Jonas didn't know what was going through Lulu's head, but her comment made him chuckle, all while still holding her close. The song would probably end soon, and then he'd deal with those dagger eyes she'd been talking about, but for now he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this perfectly content. "For being a scientific anomaly capable of murder through laser eyes?" he teased, sure she actually just looked adorable trying to muster up a glare that he couldn't see.
Lulu immediately giggled at Jonas' teasing, completely ruining the glare she'd been working on. "That and for ruining the dance by exploding a guy." Lulu replied, with no malice in her tone as they continued dancing. Lulu idly wondered if Jonas knew the effect he'd had on her as they danced so closely together practically in a world of their own, the teasing about her blushing kind of had her thinking he did, but since he didn't seem to have any kind of follow up comment on it, it really just left Lulu feeling more confused than anything else
Jonas finally remembered to look at something besides her, glancing around the room at the other people having a good time. "Ehhh... there'll be more dances for them to go to," he shrugged, laughing at her comment. "Who knows, the administration might even give you a medal for helping them break up all the grinding and drinking and other stuff they have to run around all night dealing with." Jonas frowned as he heard the song starting to wind down; he wasn't ready to let go of this moment yet. "I don't know why they waste time on that kind of stuff, though; dancing with you's way nicer, anyway." With the tiniest of sighs, Jonas pulled back from her as the song ended, although he automatically slipped his hand into hers again, not wanting to let her get away. "Sitting at a table together and making fun of Violet's during slow songs is probably fun, too, though."
Lulu laughed at the idea of the administration giving her an award for breaking up the dance with crazy laser vision. "Sure, I could see the medal now. 'To Lulu- No, it would probably be fancier-Lucille Sawyer, for traumatizing her classmates into being innocent for once in their lives." Lulu said, attempting a fancy adult voice, even though the attempt was constantly ruined by her own laughter. Lulu's laughter almost immediately died off once the song ended and instead of letting her go so that he could go back to hang out with his friends like Lulu had been expecting. "It probably is." Lulu agreed, trying to keep her surpise from sounding too obvious in her voice.
Jonas noticed the way Lulu's laughter seemed to cut off sharply when he grabbed her hand, but rather than worry about it, he just resumed his teasing. "Don't worry, I don't have cooties - and if I did, you would have already them by now, too late," Jonas winked, glad she didn't seem to be in a hurry to get away from him either. He steered her towards a table where a few of her friends were congregating, including some freshman from the computer club, Jenna, and his sister and her boyfriend. He gave those two in particular a once over, then whispered to Lulu, "I guess we'll have to wait until later to test that theory out, though."
Lulu rolled her eyes and smiled at Jonas. "I haven't worried about your cooties since first grade. I'm good." Lulu joked back, allowing Jonas to lead the way over to their friends. Lulu pointedly ignored the far too excited look Jenna was giving her and Jonas, after all Jenna was a very new friend and didn’t know that there was no way in the world Jonas viewed her as anything more than just Violet's best friend. Instead Lulu kept her attention on Jonas. "Bummer. Maybe it's just the song." Lulu whispered back, observing the pair and making a face as she noticed that being with Violet's hadn't distracted Dimitri from his sweater tucking ways.
Jonas wore an expression of mock affront. "You mean Violet's been using that line all these years to keep me from crashing your girls nights and it's not even true?" His focus was on Lulu and Lulu alone - like it had been the whole night - so Jonas didn't catch the strange looks from her friend. If he had, it might have emboldened him to do something like get out of here and go somewhere else, or to offer to walk her home at the end of the night (even if she did have a limo on beck and call). Instead, he just leaned back in his chair as they got settled, chuckling and reminding her, "Hey, we've got the whole rest of the night to find out."
TAGGING → Becca Goldstein & Oliver Hopkins (@hopliver)
TIMELINE → December 1, 2030
SETTING → Leo & Oliver’s Apartment
SUMMARY → Becca Apparates to Leo Spinnet for help after her girlfriend’s death, but gets more than she bargained for when Leo’s roommate comes to her rescue as well.
TRIGGER WARNING → Blood.
BECCA:
Becca felt the world squeezing in around her as she Apparated away, her eyes squeezed tight and focusing on Leo’s bedroom. She’d done this too many times -- stumbled in at all hours, let her best friend patch her back up, and then gone on her way. But tonight it was different. Tonight, it didn’t matter what healing charms Leo performed on her body; nothing could heal the hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach, or the clenching pain around her heart. It was a wonder that Becca could even focus on Leo’s room at all when the image of her face, so pained and so still, was all that kept threatening to appear behind Becca’s eyelids.
The spinning sensation that always accompanied Apparition lessened as Becca toppled onto the familiar floor of Leo’s room. The tiny blonde still didn’t even know the extent of her own injuries -- she vaguely remembered something swiping her back while she’d been fighting for Jules, but it felt like forever ago. Time stretched now around one singular event, around her death, and everything before it felt like some far off distant memory. Still, she tried to stand, light-headed from Apparating and from losing blood she wasn’t even aware had been dripping down her back, and felt herself crashing back to the floor, knocking one of Leo’s chairs over with her.
Her friend wasn’t in his room, and she only prayed that he was here at all. This had become almost routine for them: Becca slipping in without Oliver ever noticing his roommate’s late night visitor, Leo making light of every near-death experience with her, letting her laugh off the pain while he patched her up, and then Becca Apparating back out and repeating it all over again the next time she was out on a mission. But it seemed like tonight her luck was finally out, as she clutched at her back, pulling her hand back and seeing something sticky and red on her fingers. “Leo,” Becca called out weakly, hoping that the muffled noises she heard in the other room were her friend and that by some miracle his roommate wasn’t here, too. “Leo,” she tried again from her spot on his floor, a bit louder this time but her voice choked by the sobs she’d been holding back ever since she’d left her girlfriend’s body behind.
Althea Sickles mother had raised a God fearing little girl, but the morning she was scheduled to visit Elton Spencer’s movie set no amount of Catholic Guilt or otherwise could fully dissuade her from taking advantage of the exciting opportunity. There was, of course, also the motivation that she was completely convinced that Mr. Spencer himself would come storming back into the department store and carry her over his shoulder to the set himself if she didn’t show up. It was silly, girlish thoughts like these that colored her wildest imaginations of what could possibly happen when she arrived during her taxi ride. From what small snippets of information Althea knew, he’d be much more taken with his female on-screen companion than his temporary seamstress, but as little as she wanted to admit it, she was still captivated by the man’s wide grin and vibrant nature. Althea still felt rattled to the core from the first approving smile she had earned from him when she took her first step out of the bright yellow vehicle after paying the fare.
It was with a sickly sweet excitement that she approached the magnificent gates, meant not to keep the gilt glamour of the movie industry in, she guessed, but to keep the wild dreamers out. Althea didn’t realize that despite Mr. Spencer’s personal invitation, the security workers at the gate hadn’t been told to expect her arrival. In a stuttered, intimidated voice she tried desperately to convince them that she was there to perform a task, but without her materials it seemed as far fetched a story as it would have been if she announced herself the starring role. Althea’s face felt hot with embarrassment as she tried firstly to reason with the security workers and secondly not to burst into tears outright when they laughed openly at her request to send a message to Mr. Spencer. She didn’t know what the real source of her misery was: the glaring disappointment it would be to Mr. Spencer and the whole of the movie, or the beating her pride was taking.
Her options now seemed few, and she was a girl who realized when to admit defeat. She took a number of steps away from the gate, not wanting the guards to think she was planning something—though if they had a chance to get to know her at all it would be painfully obvious she was too meek to attempt any sort of sabotage. No, she wouldn’t try anything crazy, she was too pragmatic for anything like that. Instead, she weighed out her options. She could go back to The Broadway and see if any contact information had been left with her employer that she could contact Mr. Spencer with, she could try and call into the office of the film set if it had such a thing, wait it out in the unlikely event Mr. Spencer went out of his way to go looking for someone as insignificant as she, or she could simply admit defeat and take up her shift at The Broadway with an exciting “almost” story to share at her next social engagement.
What had been so exciting just a few moments ago suddenly just made Althea feel like a foolish child. She had no idea which of the options was best, and now the only one that seemed wise was going back to The Broadway and not telling the story, but pretending it had never happened at all. She had known before she was in over her head out her in a much more glamorous city than she really belonged in. She looked down, hoping to avoid the pitying gaze of anyone passing her on the street, suddenly humiliated by her home made dress. She had been so proud of it this morning, thinking it her finest work to date when she left her cramped, tiny apartment, but now she wanted the chance to go home, rip it from her body, and wipe it from her memory. It was a joke, she was a joke, and it grated her that Elton Spencer, who had insisted he was the shining hero and not the humorous clown, had made her feel like such a punchline.
Sam didn’t know his way around the kitchen, but one thing he did know how to make was an amazing sandwich. At the moment, there was no noise in the apartment, so the blond assumed he was alone. So, therefore, he had to fend for himself. He recently bought sourdough bread and a bunch of cold cuts. Sometimes it felt like besides rent, that one of the things he spent the most money on was food, especially due to how expensive everything could be once it all adds up.
After cutting a couple of thick slices, Sam laid down one slice and layered on salami, ham, prosciutto, gouda, and repeat. On top of that, he put on a layer of lettuce as well as a vinaigrette he bought with olive oil, garlic, a little white wine vinegar, and Italian seasonings. He put the other slice of bread on top. Putting the sandwich onto the plate, he couldn’t help to get excited, for he was starving. Instead of eating breakfast, he slept in late and worked out, and now it was time for lunch.
Grabbing the sandwich and turning to put it onto the table, Sam suddenly jumped, but thank God, did not drop his plate. There right before his very eyes was Rachel. “Jesus, Rachel,” he exclaimed, as he walked over to the table in the kitchen and put the plate down and grabbed a coke from the fridge. “I thought you were out with Kurt, or something.” He felt the need to explain why he was so caught off guard.
