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 Posted: Mon Oct 12, 2009 12:44 am
The bar was a dim, sparsely populated place, just this side of being completely run-down, with alcohol that patrons drank, but never asked about. The Scarlet Cat was really not the sort of place any reputable person would find himself in, but once in a while, the brave ventured in, and were rewarded with cheap liquor that did its job.
Maybe too well, Ride thought sardonically, with a small wry twist to his lips as he shifted further down the bench with a quick, almost imperceptible ripple of movement. The man that had been slowly but steadily drinking himself into a stupor on the other end of the wooden seat had finally accomplished his goal, falling over sideways with a loud thump that remained, for the most part, ignored.
All hints of the smile disappeared, though, as one glance down to the black wristwatch on his left arm revealed that his contact was, once again, late.
Irritated at the delay, but knowing that there was nothing he could do about it (yet), Ride finally moved himself away from the shadows and into the murky light. One hand raised up to catch the attention of a not-too-pretty serving girl dressed in an overly tight shirt and micro sized skirt, holding it there until she began to make her meandering way over. It took a while - Ride suspected the staff here were all either partially drunk, or high - but when she was close enough to hear him over the tinny background music, he finally spoke. "Give me a beer," the hand flipped over to reveal a crisp note, "and that's yours if you open the bottle here, and not in that rat trap of a bar."
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Posted: Mon Oct 12, 2009 7:44 am
A bright red Rolls-Royce slid to a stop right infront of the bar. Jack never bothered to park it somewhere quieter - hell, the quieter it was, the more likely some drunk was going to punch the window in for kicks. Except no one would get any kicks out of doing that tonight, because the blanket piled in the back seat was hiding something. Something that looked like a big purple-black balloon with a little tail. Kind of like an oversized sperm, really. Ha! Sperm.
Grinning to himself, he leaned over the bar to order his preferred draft. Having something from the taps at this place might have seemed a little dubious, but beer was one of the things Jack wasn't too picky about. Holding the heavy glass up with one hand he glanced over his shoulder to find a place to sit... and spotted a half-familiar face. Half, because prior to this he had only seen the guy in the darkness, back at the clock tower. Couldn't remember his name, or anything. But it wasn't as if he was going to find any closer friends here, so he shouldered his way over to his table, setting the beer down before sitting down on the bench across.
Jack was dressed much like he'd been the earlier night - white shirt, sleeves pulled up to just under his elbows, and black pants with the same pizza sauce stains on them. He'd put on a different vest, though - crimson, with a hint of an elaborate embroidered pattern in much the same color. It was his drinking vest, regardless of where he was drinking.
"Yo." He jerked his chin up at the guy across the table. "You're whathisface from the other night, aren't you? The one with the, what was it, twenty murders or something?" He winked and took a drink from the glass. "How's that going for you?"
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Posted: Mon Oct 12, 2009 8:22 pm
Undercover.
The thought sprang forth many images, and made the fair-haired exorcist wonder just when was it that
he'd taken to doing work that resembled those of a detective’s in a murder mystery movie. It wasn’t a bad
thing, as ‘undercover’ was a word that suited his exorcist demeanor well due to his secret-keeping
nature. However, Iclair doubted that the church would have enjoyed seeing one of their followers
cheerfully dressed in an outfit a normal priest would not be caught dead in. Or, alive.
The church would not approve, but Iclair did little things that pertained to church approval. He couldn’t
help catering to the side of his that enjoyed the darting, or sometimes gawking, looks of his surrounding
peers. It didn’t help that his stubbornly cute, cowboy partner likely disapproved as well, and that thought
was just highly amusing in his eyes.
As always, a smile, bordering on smirk, curved the edge of his lips. The exorcist pushed the furred
hood of an off-white zip-up jacket off his head and let the coat hang loosely off his arms without falling off. Fluffy
white hair was partially tugged back with an elastic band, pulling back his bangs so they didn’t fall in front
of his eyes as they usually did. A white sleeveless top hugged his torso tightly, unabashedly showing off
his body as though Iclair had written a sign that read ‘peel me off!’ That being said, he was just as eye-
catching and out of place as he would have been if he had simple walked in with his priest uniform.
“Claude~” Iclair drawled lowly, tones pouring forth faint merriment as he called the other man in. He lifted his
hand and shiny silver bangles clinked and chimed as they shifted together like muted bells. Honey-gold
eyes flicked with inner amusement, mouth twisting into a harmless and benign smile… as though his
loosely worn jacket didn’t hide the weapons hanging off his belt.
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Posted: Mon Oct 12, 2009 11:15 pm
He felt like he was in a novel.
A murder mystery to be exact. Or Sherlock Holmes. Surely he felt like he was in Sherlock Holmes right now. And that at any moment, his partner was going to turn to him, and with a cheerful expression he would proclaim "Oh, my dear Watson!" But Claude wasn't so sure he would mind that, because it would give him a nice excuse to hit the other over the head. It had taken a lot of convincing for the sleepy cowboy of a priest to get off his a** and actually accompany Iclair. And now he was looking for any possible way to go back to his nice, comfy bed instead. Padding along after Iclair, Claude could not help but frown skeptically at the choice of clothing for the shorter of the two. He remembered vaguely that they were supposed to be 'undercover.' But Iclair looked like a goddamn diva who'd taken center stage. Claude, in retrospect, looked like the bodyguard who beat people up if they took one step out of line.
Casually dressed in a typical black button up dress shirt with sleeves rolled to his elbows, the sleepy looking priest did his best to blend in. Though, if his frown had been turned upside down, he'd be doing anything but just that. The buttons hadn't been done up all of the way, and a slice of toned skin flashed arrogantly to anyone who snuck a look. Claude didn't exactly mind the tight fitting jeans and cowboy boots that said "this'll go up your a** if you touch me." What he minded was the way Iclair literally strutted into the bar that night. Attention whore. The priest thought in a not so priestly manner. You're not a peacock, He wanted to say to Iclair, tangling a hand through the mess of sandy blond hair. You're s'posed to be undercover. Stop making people want ta' peel your clothes off.
"Claude~"
The priest swore under his breath and padded in after Iclair. There was no turning back now. His cowboy boots clicked in sharp monotone. His own hand moved to tug at Iclair's ponytail, his own black and white checkered bangles barely making a noise in contrast to Iclair's glittering silver ones. Sleepy eyes observed the gaudy looking bar and its occupants, but came back to the only one who stood out. His partner. "Yes, darling?" He said sarcastically in a drawl, dropping into a stance next to Iclair as he went back to his sluggish position. No one knew that he had two guns on him - nor that Iclair wasn't without his precious blades. But the vibes radiating off Claude said that he could very well be ready to whip out something shiny and dangerous and do nasty things.
Chewing on the cigarette hanging in his mouth, Claude's icy eyes turned to Iclair, the tension in his shoulders lessening a fraction. Well, there was nothing he could do anyways. "Try not ta' make too many people stare." He said haughtily to the other with a slight slur, thumbs hanging from his jean pockets. Compared to the people who were in the bar - not many, considering - the two priests looked even more out of place in their normal clothing then if they'd simply strode in there bare naked. Claude chanced a sardonic glance over at Iclair. The fair haired man would have probably enjoyed that one. Throwing the idea out the window before mental images sprang up, the cowboy glanced over at Iclair. "Lets go." He said in more of a command then a suggestion, mockingly offering up an elbow for Iclair to take. Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. He thought in dry mockery. There was nowhere this night could take them that was going to make the church happy.
Oh well, at least they were going out with a bang.
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Posted: Tue Oct 13, 2009 6:27 am
Idiot. The single word was evident in Ride's flat eyes as he gave the gaudily dressed Jack an incurious once-over before turning to face the returning serving girl. The woman had the bottle of beer in one hand, and an opener in the other, and without further ado, plonked the thing with a bang onto the wooden tabletop. The crisp note exchanged hands as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and within seconds Ride found himself with a relatively sanitary bottle of beer and the slightly overlarge backside of the woman as she made her way back to the bar.
Jack, he ignored.
Ride was in middle of bringing the bottle to his lips for that first swig when the two newcomers arrived, bringing with them an entirely different atmosphere. The first stood out; if nothing else, the white was absurdly out of place in the dim, dirty surroundings, though the second's dress style seemed more in line. Male hooker and pimp? Maybe. Though there was a dangerous quality to the pair that seemed to hint otherwise. Perhaps they were here for a reason, and he suspected whatever it was, it probably wasn't going to be good.
Realizing he'd paused with the bottle midway to his lips, the dark-eyed man brought it up the rest of the way to take a long swig, taking care to look as relaxed as possible. Ride was always wary, considering all others to be a threat, and the appearance of two out of place strangers coupled with the lateness of his contact seemed like too much of a coincidence to him.
Setting the bottle down on the table, he considered his options; dressed all in black as he usually was, it would take a keen eye to pick him out in the dim light, and he wasn't yet sure if they were after him. On the other hand, if they were...
"Hey, you two. Got lost?"
... wouldn't it be funny if he misled them by going out of character?
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Posted: Thu Oct 15, 2009 9:22 am
Jack waited. Waited a little longer. Waited a lot longer than the acceptable pause between a question and a response... at which point he had no choice but to admit that he was being ignored. "Nice." He grumbled, tipping the beer glass back. Whatever - he was a murderer anyway. Jack might have been a liar, a thief and a cheat, but he didn't exactly approve of killing. When looked at the antisocial freakfest again, he thought for a second he was actually looking back up at him - but, at it turned out, he was looking at someone more like behind his shoulder. Some two actually.
And they were a weird pair. Jack wasn't exactly a regular at this bar, but he knew what kind of place this was and what kind of people came here - and these two didn't fit in. Not even the cowboy one with the wide-open black shirt and the kickass boots. And definitely not the one in the white... thing. He waited for someone to cuss them out, but the two had some sort of aura of authority that urged people to look away and go back to their drinks. Something was up. His pizza-warrior senses were tingling. Or was that just the sound of their bangle-bracelet-things?
Seriously. Jack knew he was a little over-dressed here, but he wasn't wearing bracelets.
At this point, Twenty Murders spoke up, and despite his doubts about the guy, Jack had to give him kodos for that. At least now he'd have a show to watch over his beer, if not a conversation.
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Posted: Sat Oct 17, 2009 5:25 pm
From just his entrance, the exorcist had successfully drawn pretty much every eye to his very attention-grabbing
form. It didn’t matter much that most of the eyes had been suspended in a state of incredulous disbelief over his
chosen outfit of the evening. Iclair still had to resist the urge to preen as satisfaction coiled against the pit of his
stomach. His mouth was unable to stop a wry grin from forming as thoughts mingled in his mind. At the very least,
the church should be grateful he hadn’t decided to wear red, because then, they’d really have a scarlet cat in the
bar, indeed.
… Not that Iclair would have minded the amusing reactions everyone would have to that imagery.
The exorcist listened to the clicks of cowboy boots against wood floor behind him, pleased that Claude hadn’t
decided to run off on him. However, the sharp tug against his ponytail reminded Iclair of an exasperated owner
swatting his pet with a rolled up newspaper for some misdeed. Instead of pouting from the imagined reprimand, the
fair-haired exorcist lifted his head back to meet the icy blue of his partner’s, arching a brow as if to say ‘I’m having
fun, why aren’t you?’ Still grinning, he straightened his head and purred out his next few words. “I’d be ruining this
outfit if they don’t stare, Claude.”
Turning his attention back to the bar, the priest rested a hand to his hip, finding some measure of reassurance in
the slight press of steel against thigh without needing to reveal them. The bangles on the arm jingled, attracting his
gaze. He hadn’t really needed to wear them, but he’d once heard that some of the younger demons—before they
had found human shape—were easily distracted with shiny objects. Iclair found the thought rather amusing, and
sort of yearned to try… with one that didn’t need to be exorcised on immediate sighting. Iclair also hoped the
demon didn’t try to eat his arm, either.
Regarding Claude’s extended arm with faint doubt, as Iclair wasn’t quite sure he wouldn’t be sporting a broken arm
(not that it ever occurred) for touching the cowboy, the exorcist felt some inner alarm ring as a voice called out
from some shadowed corner. His golden honey eyes flitted towards the source, mouth automatically sweeping into
an I-dare-you smile at the man who’d called them out. “Lost? I’d say we’re at the right place,” Iclair replied without
missing a beat. His legs immediately took steps forward to see the man and his companion (not that they looked
like they got along) better. He gave Ride and Jack an interested scrutiny, but something clicked when he regarded
Jack.
“You’ve got room to scoot,” Iclair murmured towards Jack, and plopped down in an easily intrusive manner. His
mind clicked in the next second, suddenly knowing why he was interested. Work lost its importance in the priest’s
list of priorities. “You smell like pizza,” the exorcist remarked as his grin returned. “Make them?”
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Posted: Tue Oct 20, 2009 2:06 am
Iclair might have enjoyed the unnecessary attention from every possible direction of the bar, but the cowboy behind him was less then thrilled by the stares. Taking a long drag from his cigarette, the man sent a rough look in the direction of a waitress who looked like she had the nerve to tell him to put it out. Crossly, Claude brought the cigarette away from his lips, and blew smoke at Iclair's ear in retaliation for his comment. "I'm not sure 'ow I got stuck with you." He commented in a low tone, before dropping his gaze to the his boots. It was barely a whisper in the back of his mind that they were being addressed but a few seconds later.
"Hey, you two. Got Lost?"
Tilting his head up, the cowboy sent a stare towards the man who'd challenged them. Deciding his mouth would stay shut while Iclair rattled off his own retorts, Claude clicked his tongue and put the cigarette back in his mouth. Scrutinizing the two men, he sent an equally flat glare back at the man who'd spoken up - weighing the possibility of whether the guy was all bark, and no bite. From the way he settled back into the scenery like a black ghost, Claude could only imagine how much threat he actually posed. The man beside him looked a little less then trusting, but a little more innocent then the second one. Watching Iclair walk off like a cat interested by a ball of yarn and willing to chase it, Claude's face changed into a look of irritation. Shifting his weight to one leg, he did all he could not to groan out loud, take off his shoe, and throw it at the mans head. Instead, he pursued the other haughtily across the bar, his mood barely improving. Claude's boots clicking a sharp high pitch as he followed Iclair, the undercover priest dropped unceremoniously down next to Ride, seeing as the space next to Jack had been taken up. "Evening, ladies." He said in a tone that couldn't have been dryer.
Dragging one leg over the other in a 'dont give me s**t' sort of fashion, Claude sent a veiled look of interest at both Jack and Ride. He raised brow at the pizza stains and listened to Iclair spark up some sort of light hearted conversation. If there was anything Claude knew for certain, it was that Iclair was someone whos mind was dominated by few things. Draping one of his arms over his legs, Claude rested his chin in the palm of his hand, barely interested in what Jack did for a living. His bangles glittered dangerously in the dim light, their checkered appearance as sharp as the rest of his outfit. As if remembering that the man beside him had earlier said something to them, Claude turned his steely eyes in Ride's directions. "Unfortunately, we know exactly where we are. Shame however, you look pretty lost yourself." Satisfied, Claude leaned back and took another long drag.
They had the rest of the night before them, work could wait.
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Posted: Tue Oct 20, 2009 12:30 pm
Jack didn't bother scooting. Living in a car, you sort of got used to a tight fit. Nevertheless, he didn't mind the company - strange as these people were, they seemed friendlier than Mr Twenty Murders. More talkative, at the very least. Taking another swig of beer, he let his attention settle on the white-haired dude. Something odd about him... Jack felt like he oughta know who he was. He might have guessed that he was some sort of movie star or something - it was that sort of vague, cloudy familiarity - except for the fact that he was at the Scarlet Cat. Just wasn't the sort of place prettyboy starlets hung out.
"Make 'em? Nah. I drive 'em. Car outside, must've seen it. Big, red, and shiny?" Jack liked mentioning his car. He also worried a little about the shine on the headlights - it had been a while since he'd taken care of that. And hopefully Duke was staying out of sight and not murking up the windows again - that was just embarrassing. "What about it? You want a special delivery?"
He paused, then barked a laugh, rolling his eyes a little. "Okay, that was lame. Forget it. But hey. Got me laid once. It was a pretty crazy night." He licked his lips, then grinned again, a sort of sharp, cunning look on his face. "Wanna drink or something?"
Jack had money. This was rare, and part of the reason why he was in such a goddamned good mood right now. And it wasn't just another paycheck - it was a tip. A rather generous tip from a party full of guys so piss-drunk they hadn't been able to count their money without bursting into hysterical laughter, so he'd weaseled nearly a hundred bucks out of them and they probably still hadn't realized it. Partly because, glancing at his watch to verity, he figured they were still drunk - and because by the time they were sober, they'd forget all about it anyway. Suckers. Usually he'd hoard the money and buy a new pair of pants - try to avoid any more sauce stains, this time - but what the heck. He had Duke. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do with a pillow-sized floating blueberry, but he was sure they'd figure out.
And when they did, even this little 'bonus' would look like peanuts.
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Posted: Tue Oct 20, 2009 7:04 pm
Ride wasn't the least bit surprised when Mr. Flash moved closer to strike up a conversation with Jack, though the choice of topic seemed a little out of the blue. But then, he supposed, he should have expected it from a man who would walk into the Scarlet Cat with a white furry jacket. He didn't bother to ask the other what he meant by 'right place', though his earlier thought of pimp and male hooker came back to amuse him, and he briefly wondered if that meant Jack seemed more the type than he did.
The bracelets, though... they flashed in the light as the two newcomers moved, and Ride had a moment to feel relief that Kael was tucked away in the storage compartment of his Harley - the damned thing loved shiny, and even if this pair wasn't a threat to him, they would surely turn into one if a slobbering brown blob showed up to gnaw at their wrists - before a thump indicated the surlier of the pair had settled down beside him. "Lost, me?" Ride's usually flat voice held a thread of controlled mirth, as he shifted further into the shadows, placing the entire table in his view. "I was simply enjoying a beer." And waiting for a contact that wasn't going to arrive, he added mentally.
"Your companion there looks pretty out of place for the Scarlet Cat." Lifting aforementioned beer, he used it to gesture towards where Jack and Mr. Flash were - well Jack was - now discussing in depth his red Rolls-Royce. The urge to simply get up and walk away from the table was strong as he tuned in briefly to the conversation on the other side of the table, and though his face was impassive, his thoughts were full of disgust for the way Jack seemed to live. And talk. But Ride didn't get to be one of the best in his profession by allowing such things to influence his actions, and so he merely refocused his attention on the smoker beside him.
He didn't want to make small talk - it wasn't necessary for him given his occupation - but since the pair seemed to have settled down at the table due to his instigation, there was no help for it. Tilting his head back, he took another long swig of the beer, strong column of throat working as he swallowed before asking, "What brings you here? Somehow I doubt it was simply for drinks." There was no threat in the statement, though his voice was flat as he posed the question. Small talk really wasn't his strong suit, and he simply didn't see the point in posturing when a direct question would do the job.
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Posted: Thu Oct 22, 2009 12:42 pm
Iclair tossed Claude a brief look that promised some sort of retribution for blowing smoke into his ear, but it faded
almost as instantly as it had come. His attention was focused on Jack now, so he’d keep it that way. Of course, it
didn’t stop him from sending a ‘light’ kick to his partner’s shin under the table and out of sight just so he could feel
satisfied enough to make idle chatter with the pizza-man. “That car?” If he thought about it, there had been an
amusingly attention-grabbing vehicle outside. “I saw it; it was pretty nice. Very red and very shiny.” He’d also seen
the flash of shadow in the backseat out of the corner of his eye, one that raised his hackles a tad, but didn’t make
any comment to Claude. Secrets were always interesting to keep. However, the fact that the owner of said car was
right beside him made him all the more intrigued.
“So you don’t make pizza,” the exorcist murmured with a low hum, arching a brow while his expression reflected
only a small bit of disappointment over the trivial detail. He would have enjoyed prodding the stranger into making
one ‘just to see if it were true’, and likely help finish the evidence. “Pity.” How he liked not cooking his own food…
though, it didn’t matter when there were some more or less willing and able cooks out there. Iclair tossed a glance
at Claude at the thought, but his gaze slid towards Ride.
“Your companion there looks pretty out of place…”
He leaned back a little, making sure to catch mister tall, dark, and mysterious’ eyes as a lazy smirk swiftly took up
space on his lips. Out of place, am I? “You’d have to try harder to get me in your car,” Iclair drawled to Jack, chuckling
quietly while deciding to bite back the ‘though I doubt you could handle me’ comment right at the tip of his tongue.
True or false (and there were very few people that could tolerate Iclair for very long) as that mental thought was,
Iclair flashed an inviting smile, mostly because of the continuing line out of the pizza-man’s mouth.
“Drinks, you say?” That sparked a definite interest in the fair-haired man’s eyes. Sure, he could have paid for his
own drinks, but Iclair enjoyed being spoiled. It wasn’t as fun as getting cooked for, but they were on a similar level.
“That’ll get you somewhere.” He scanned the bar and drew one of the serving girls from whatever niche they
were hiding towards their table for a bottle or two of beer.
“So, pizza-boy,” the exorcist returned his attention to Jack. “Any reason for what seems like an occupational
disaster? Or saving yourself up for something big?”
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Posted: Fri Oct 23, 2009 8:09 am
"No, I don't make pizza." Jack quirked an eyebrow, a little disappointed that the conversation about his car had fallen flat. He would have liked to have heard a few more compliments other than 'shiny' and 'red' - words that he'd used to identify the car himself. And 'nice' seemed a little noncommittal... but what the heck. Better than nothing, right? He smiled loosely, trying to shake off the 'pity' remark, not really sure what that meant. Not like pizza-making was a particularly amazing job anyway.
"Don't worry about that." Jack waved off the white-haired man's little bit about not getting him into his car - "I'm just gettin' started." He passed a few wrinkled, somewhat pot-scented bills over to the serving girl, and when there were two more beers on the table he leaned back and took another drink from his own. Ride was being a complete social blunderbuss, as he might have expected - interogating the other newcomer as if he had just walked into his own home uninvited, or something. Just when he'd gotten to thinking the man could be a little clever, it turned out his 'got lost?' question had been another thoughtless outburst. Idiot.
"Occupational - what? Do I look like an occupational disaster to you?" He waved his shiny rolex-adorned wrist infront of the guy's face, a little put off. "You seem to like pizza chefs, what you got against delivery men? Anyway, yeah. I got plans. I ain't really saving up, but... I got big things in mind for sure." A wink, his earlier annoyance dissapating. "So. Whatcha name? I'm Jack Diamond, savior of hungry fat ******** everywhere. And what do you do, anyway?"
Maybe this would remind him - joggle his memory a little. Still had the feeling he knew there two from somewhere... and he didn't know a lot of fluffy white men.
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Posted: Sat Oct 24, 2009 7:23 pm
Simply enjoying a beer? There wasn't any reason to suspect the bland statement - after all, Claude was sure that many poor law-abiding citizens came 'round these parts for a drink or two - but suspicion rose like a bubble in his gut. Well s**t, he supposed, fiddling with one of his checkered bangles, I must be losing my touch if I'm suspecting the first person I talk to. Despite the lack of certainty, the cowboy did not drop his guard as he settled back into his seat. The look of irritation had been smothered by the idea that it wasn't going to get him anywhere. After all, Claude might have been cynical and dry, but that didn't account to him being stupid too. "Hnn." He said, signaling that he wasn't really interested in the others response.
At the mention if Iclair, Claude sent a fine smile to Ride. "Dont remind me." He said in a fairly amused tone, crossing his arms across his chest and tilting his head skyward. "He's got a special talent for looking out of place just about anywhere." Blowing out a puff of smoke, Claude glanced at Ride. "Unlike you. It seems that you're the only one who manages to blend into this place." Not usually one for conversations, Claude cut himself off. The stranger didn't seem extremely interested in much either, and he could imagine the overwhelming "I want to leave now" vibes rocketing off of their side of the table.
His next choice of words was interrupted by Iclair making small talk with whats-his-face. The pizza delivery guy looked as arrogant as the next kid on the block, and Claude wondered just what Iclair saw in him that was interesting. Raising a fine brow at the mention of being an occupational disaster, and Jacks almost instantaneous retort, the man dropped his gaze, letting it linger on small details of both the men. At the question of Iclairs name and what he did for a living, Claude tilted his head in the direction of his partner. His eyes narrowed a fraction of an inch as the smoldering cigarette was taken out of mouth for a moment. "Iclair's a prostitute." He said in a dry, cynical tone. For a moment, he let the silence hang in the air, and turned back to Ride, deciding to let Iclair handle that one.
At the question of what brought him here, Claude couldn't stop himself from making a face. "Mon dieu, I wasn't intending to be here in the first place." He said before he could stop himself. Shrugging one shoulder in half boredom, half dissatisfaction he sat back, not entirely keen on small talk either. Though the idea that it was the best - and only - way to deal with the situation had become stuck in his head some time ago. "I was dragged along." He said, motioning lazily with a hand towards Iclair. "Damn brat cant sit still for two minutes without doing something insane."
Looking over at Jack again, Claude tilted his head in Ride's direction. Not bothering to interrupt the conversation between the two on the other side of the table, the sandy blond simply leaned back and put the cigarette back in his mouth, smoke trailing from its end. He didn't really care for saying much else - Claude had never been good at small talk, and the man next him didn't seem entirely keen on the matter either. If he said more, Claude would respond, but the disinterested look had appeared once again, and now he considered just how long the night would be before it was over. Especially with their two new 'friends.'
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Posted: Tue Oct 27, 2009 6:58 am
One corner of Ride's lips twisted upwards just the tiniest bit in wry acknowledgment of the man beside him's words - the only expression he allowed himself - as he nodded. "You call that a talent?" It was obvious that Mr. Flash enjoyed the attention he garnered, almost as much as he disliked it. And if the way the man seated next to him acted was any indication, he didn't much enjoy the attention their table was currently receiving either.
The knowledge that he was the one who had created this situation in the first place didn't make it any better, though the instinct and caution that had originally prompted him to make such a move had saved him many a time. Glancing down, he eyed the bangles that the man was now playing with, about to ask their purpose, when...
"Iclair's a prostitute."
Ride snorted his amusement, distracted from the question he'd been about to ask. The fact that the man had said exactly what had been on his mind all along was just too entertaining to suppress, despite his belief that Mr. Flash was more than just a bedroom toy. Some inner demon within was tempted to chip in with a distant 'oh, really?', but he suppressed it through force of habit. Ride believed in economy of words and movement, and in any case, he wasn't interested so long as the man didn't turn his attentions on him. Most likely Jack would respond to that statement regardless, so it was utterly unnecessary for him to add in additional input.
At least, Ride noted, as the man next to him spoke once again, it seemed as though like had gravitated towards like at their table. While it wasn't exactly comfortable sitting next to a stranger in near-silence, at least he wasn't required to be constantly conversing. The fact that the man next to him wasn't here through his own volition eased the suspicions in Ride somewhat, though he still kept his guard up. Just because they probably weren't after him didn't change the fact that they were most likely more than they seemed on the surface. "I can see that," Ride agreed, as the other's words wound to an end, subtly probing, "though I must say, babysitting duty looks strange on you."
The shadows played over Ride's face as he finished off the last of his beer and gestured for another. Dark eyes slanted sideways for a moment before the serving girl arrived, and one eyebrow tilted upwards. "Want a beer?" It was going to be a long night... at least until he could find a plausible excuse to leave.
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Posted: Thu Oct 29, 2009 12:28 pm
Iclair couldn’t help but smirk at the rather testy response to his ‘occupational disaster’ remark. However, he had to
admit that he didn’t know many pizza-boys with a car that noticeable or had a Rolex to flash around. He didn’t
know much pizza-boys with strange ‘pets’ in their cars either. “I take back my statement,” the exorcist relented,
tones amused. What a complicated world we live, he thought inwardly, though it wasn’t as though he could really
say anything about it with the way life was going for him.
His gaze slid towards the two men on the other side of the table, entertained just by looking at them. The waves of
‘I don’t really want to be here’ rolled off them in messy waves… They had to be such downers, didn’t they?
“Whatcha name?”
“…And what do you do anyway?”
“Ic—“ The fair-haired man was about to answer when the unexpected response from across the table saved him
the trouble. Or, perhaps, made more, considering he had to bite his tongue to keep from choking in the
hilariousness of it all. Iclair was thankful Claude hadn’t chosen ‘clown’ because Iclair would really kick him, then.
And, you couldn’t be a prostitute if you weren’t someone sexy. At least, the type to be able to flag down rich folks
for a bounce in the hay, anyway…
So, I get to be a prostitute, huh? Iclair’s answering grin was almost feral, but it relented at sexy since it would fit best.
He turned towards Jack, lifting the beer bottle to his lips to give the cold bottle of beer a slow, but insinuating lick.
The priest peered at the man, eyes half-lidded and inviting. “As my pimp says,” Iclair purred without a glance
at Claude; a lazy smile curved the corner of his lip. “If either of you want to have a helluva time, or ******** put it
bluntly, I’ll be worth every cent you pay.”
Not that he could actually give them a good time if they accepted, anyway. Iclair could only break so many rules
with so many loopholes.
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