it wasn’t uncommon to find britin st. james ( and whatever entourage he’d put together for the night ) stumbling into the place completely sloshed minutes before closing. he’d once paid a hotspot in golden pine to stay open an extra hour beyond closing just so he could finish his pint in peace. unfortunately they’d been banned from said place just three nights earlier when an .. altercation with one of the bar staff turned violent. though britin’s wand had never been raised, one of his friends had sent a particularly nasty curse towards the bartender when he’d refused to serve him more alcohol. while it had been quite funny at the time, finding a new place to party had been essential. of course britin had slept most of the day so without many other ideas floating around, he’d simply suggested they head to the leaky cauldron for the night. so britin, his friend james, and their dates apparated just outside of the establishment and entered the pub — his attention settled on his date, not grace van doren !
it was only later when he stumbled over to the bar to order another round of shots, elbow knocking into someone seated at the bar, that he blinked and determined that the blurred outline of a person beside him was actually someone he knew. “grace ?” he’d recognize her anywhere. after all, her brother — isaac van doren — was one of his best mates. speaking of … “oi, where’s your bloody brother?“ almost as soon as he’d asked, he’d forgotten. he was distracted by the plate of shots placed before him. “ah, excellent.” his wand flicked out to levitate the shots, carefully sending them whooshing towards their table in the back. “say, why don’t you join us ? the more the merrier.” he slung an arm around her shoulder sloppily, gesturing grandly to the table he’d just left. “what’ll it be, van doren? are you going to keep drinking alone,” at that, he reached for her cheeks … twisting her visage into a makeshift frown, “…or keep the party going with us ?” his tone made it rather clear that there wasn’t really a choice. she’d have been crazy to say no. from his experience, people hardly ever said no to him.
BACK WHEN she had been known as grace van doren, she would have found it to be rather preposterous if she was ever jealous of someone. why would she be jealous, when she had money, the looks and the brains? she was the damn package and she knew it. now though, she was grace vandre: a tattoo artist and a bartender. she had the looks and the brains still, but not the money. the lack of money in her life had taught the brunette to be more... humble and to appreciate hard work more. despite that, she held a rather complicated relationship with anyone who had money and fame, such as britin st. james. though grace was rather civil with the male ( what with him being her brother’s friend and all ), part of her resented his fame and his success. he had it so easy; something grace wished she still had. her electric blue eyes narrowed at the sight of the girl in his arm and she tried to ignore the jealousy that was clawing from inside of her chest. great, so not only did he have the money, the looks and the fame, but he also got the girls. of course he did.
whilst she was bitterly comparing herself to the other, she didn’t even notice that he was making his way over to the bar. it was only when she heard him utter her name that she looked up and stared at him. “britin,” she greeted coolly, trying not to think about how awful she looked at the moment. he looked good, as he always did and grace... well, she’s certainly looked better. but to be fair, she did just come from a long and tiring shift. the brunette rolled her eyes at his question before she ordered another drink and downed it easily. “working, obviously. when’s zac not working?” she questioned, setting down the glass and looking up at britin to meet his eyes for a moment before she looked away, her finger circling the rim of the glass. when his arm slung around her shoulders, grace cringed for a moment. she was never one for touching, unless she was doing someone’s tattoo. but she forced herself to relax, only to stiffen when he called her by that name. her face was showed that she was not amused and her eyes were as cold as ice. “you’ve known me long enough to know that that’s not my name, st. james,” she said coolly, straightening in her seat. though he probably meant nothing by it, to grace, being called van doren was the worst insult ever. “i will consider partying with you lot, but only if you swear to never call me van doren ever again.”
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