VICES & VIRTUES

“Never fails me,” Grace mused with a small nod of her head. She owed a lot of her good wealth and happiness to karma, at least she liked to think so. Pausing for a moment, she chirped back up at the notion of possibly meeting a new neighbour. “Do you live here?” she asked, motioning towards the Sterling building. “I’m Grace, we might be neighbours.”

mathieu has to give a nod to that—if that is such a thing, it’s possible he probably deserves some bad stuff that comes to happen to him. it’s surprising how he actually takes a note about what she says, the corner of his lips lifting just briefly. “oh... yes,” he looks at the complex’s entrance and then back at her with an actual, though still small, smile. “mathieu. well, just by living in the same complex, i suppose we are,” a breathy laugh escapes his lips, and he soon buries his hands into his pockets. “new resident?”

@arkitins

Tight fitted leather skirt hugged her lean and well defined legs, almost-see-through bralette not quite doing its job at supporting her breast but it’s not like she minded. She had her mother to thank for amazing genetics despite herself growing old, except that she hasn’t heard of her mother in years, unsurprisingly. She’d gotten them into one of the local club’s booths, the view from there exquisite. All sweaty and intoxicated bodies dancing in the middle of the room, crowded, sliding one against the other and she was enjoying having the ventilation system right above her head, with hella space of her own as she preyed on her next victim. With music being unbearably loud, she had to shout at Mathieu who was just a step away from her “Three o’clock, the brunette wearing low cut, satin red dress. Easy to pull up and slide in. The effort she put into making that high-maintenance bun look messy - she cares about being singled out as the Goddess of the club. Go with something like you’re unlike any other woman I’ve ever seen and she’ll shyly tug a loose strand of hair behind her ear, look down and smile humbly, and ten minutes later she’ll be working those hips and grunting like possessed in a closet cabin, all within seconds of you taking her there.”

it isn’t exactly a secret to anyone how mathieu dislikes places with loud music, how he doesn’t enjoy crowded places all that much anymore—it is, perhaps, still up to debate if he ever really liked it, or if it’d been his youth and need for seeing people, have them, pushing him around. his reasoning nowadays isn’t, at all, that different: he still goes to club sometimes, surprisingly, and most times, if not all (lately), he has that woman in particular beside him. rachelle has been quite a friend for a while now and their encounters are almost always in places like this. he can’t really complain, not even when his head hurts a little due to the loud music as he sips his drink, eyes following people’s moves, the way they lose themselves on the center of the place, where the music is even louder.

leaning closer automatically when hearing her voice, he doesn’t have to look at her to do as told: turn his head to catch the sight of the woman she’s talking about. his eyebrows raise the more rachelle makes suggestions, bringing his glass closer to his lips and taking another sip. humming, he lets his eyes trail down the girl in the red dress’ body, taking notes. “is that why you use leather?” he suddenly asks, turning his head to look at the blonde, clearly just to tease her. “so anyone has actual work into pulling it up?” mathieu raises a questioning eyebrow before turning to look at the girl again, noticing how, at this point, she caught sight of him to. he smirks at her, doing his usual way at first: just looking, as if considering, before approaching. “you know i remember how you came to me, right?” he comments, letting out an amused laugh. “so is this how you did it? you looked at me and just knew the right words to get into my pants?” he raises his eyebrows when looking at her again, head tilting.

“You’re forgiven,” Eva replied bluntly. If he was willing to have manners, it seemed only fair that she did too. “And.. I’m fine.” She’d been saying it so often these days, the thought perhaps a tattoo on her forehead would save time. 

“You’ve never seen a girl with a bruised face before?” The answer she knew was probably not, and Eva honestly couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this banged up. It was embarrassing that the reason for her swollen and bruised cheek wasn’t even a fair fight or a cool story. It was traumatic and she’d rather die than tell anyone the truth. “I walked into a doorway.”

keeping a small yet rude tone in his own voice most of the times, her bluntness doesn’t surprise him one bit. and still, mathieu finds himself raising his eyebrows slowly, almost doubting her—far from him to be curious or even care of what his neighbors are up to, but the bruise, even looking from the distance he is, seems very different than an accident. but who’s he to question anything? “not really,” he admits the expected, hands burying into his pockets, looking away from her cheek only to stare at the woman better. “quite a heavy door, then. have you checked that with a doctor? seems serious.”

Adelaide gave him a sweet smile, shrugging her shoulders. “If I don’t torture myself while I’m at home, is it really even a job?” She questioned. “Oh, you know… draining, don’t want to do it. But, I think I’ve got enough done for today, anyway. I can feel my Netflix and wine calling for me.”

“i suppose. what’s the struggle?” he wonders, crossing his ankles once stretching his legs, book resting on his lap, chin on his palm. “aren’t your job supposed to be cool with all the designs? or are the clients not helpful?” mathieu proceeds, guessing that the latter is the problem—at least in his fair experience, that’s it; always difficult to plan the styles for people who had no idea what they wanted and disliked all his suggestions. “they aren’t that last one i recommended you, are they? they were quite a pain with me, but i thought they were glad with having you to get the next details.” a laugh escapes his lips when he hears her, head nodding slowly. “wine and netflix… sounds like a nice duo. tv series or movies this time?”

“ well i promise not to step on them too hard then, ” she says with a chuckle as the music grew a bit louder. luckily the place wasn’t too loud - katrina couldn’t stand the places where the music was so loud it made the entire room vibrate and made it pretty much impossible to hear anything or anyone around you. “ oh i’m plenty old enough to be out of practice, ” she reassures him with a swift nod, “ you’ll see for yourself. ”

and luckily the place was packed - so even if she did make a complete fool of herself, she would hardly be the center of attention, just how she liked it. “ oh i was tipsy after my last drink, i’m not too sure what you’re in for at this point, ” she said with a slight shrug and a chuckle.

he’s seeing for himself and, still, he can’t completely see what she means—if anything, seeing this small part of katrina is amusing him way too much. it’s been far too long since the last time he went out like this, simply to have fun with talks and drinking and, now, dancing… and, so far, it’s going better than he’d expected. there’s still the prospect of having his toes stepped, but he would give her a break for it.

“aren’t you thirty-one? three decades is not that old,” and he says that mostly because of himself, too, obviously. he’s a year (maybe months?) older than her and is kind embarrassing, sometimes, how he still seems to be trying to hold tight to the same acts he did during his twenties—acts those she saw before, so even easier to judge now. “oh? are you tipsy already?” mathieu raises his eyebrows as he dances with her, smirking. “and how’s that going? as bad as you’ve been trying to make it seem? or are you having fun?”

Grace waited patiently as he placed the wallet back into his pocket, and she nodded when she saw it was firmly put away. “You’re welcome,” she disclaimed before shrugging her shoulders casually. “Just doing my karmic duty, really.” Grace was most certainly not the type to keep something that wasn’t hers, it went against nearly everything she stood for. “Pay it forward or something?” she suggested lightly. 

“does that work?” he wonders out loud, actually curious, “the karmic duty,” mathieu quickly adds, so she follows what he means. truth be told, he had heard such a thing his whole life, but with little attention every single time and, being early for his appointment, he ends up there, with questions. not very much his doing, but… “oh… yes, of course,” he laughs softly, nodding. “will keep that in mind.”

Times like these reaffirmed why Rory so strongly identified with Squidward Tentacles as a character – a struggling artist who had a job at a restaurant she wasn’t too fond of. The animated octopus depicted her to a tee, except for one, tiny thing: if the girl displayed the contempt for her job and the customers she disliked, she probably would’ve been fired. The creators of the show have made it clear time and time again that no matter how badly Squidward did as a cashier, he kept his job, still. Rory, on the other hand, would be replaced in a matter of minutes.

So here she was, forcing a tight smile on her face, resisting every urge to give in to her pettiness. ❝Did you hear that? I’m the best,❞ A more genuine – and triumphant – grin popped onto her face as she said this. Maybe there was room for just a bit of pettiness. The girl realized she had the option of either hurrying things along and getting it over and done with; or she could attempt to get on his nerves and elicit a response that would make this job just a little less terrible. In her finance class – which she hadn’t thought about in years – every decision was a calculated risk. If potential outcome was good, then one should accept the risk – which is precisely what she decided to do.

❝So…what can I get you? Fair warning: the cash register is currently down and I’ll have to do all the computing myself, which will definitely take some time.❞  Rory drawled on purposely, taking her sweet time with the delivery of the statement. The girl could only struggle to suppress the amusement in her voice. God, she hoped she wouldn’t suffer any repercussions from this.

it’s not like he’s in a rush—he’s been off most of that week, being the end of the year and the holidays, working from home. and yet, just to hear such a thing, mathieu can feel his eyes squinting at the younger, hand slowly being placed on the counter. not too long ago, whenever he got in such a mood, he would hear his wife telling him to calm down, commenting on how things happened and he needed to be a patient man if he wanted to live better, less stressed out. nowadays, that is one of the last things he thinks on being… at all, not only in situations like this. it doesn’t matter if he does hear violet’s voice in his head, he still can feel his body reaction: a long, deep breath being pulled in.

“this one! is this chocolate?” bernard talks before his dad manages to say something not so polite. saved from acting rude—mathieu lowers his eyes to the boy, pointing at the cupcake with his gloved finger. “dad likes chocolate!” so a suggestion for him, he notices, and lets out his breath slowly. “what about you? which one will you want?” he asks the boy, tilting his head to look at the variety of sweets bernard is seeing from his height. “which one rory likes more?” the simple question makes mathieu rolls his eyes dramatically—if it isn’t enough how she would take her sweet time to do everything, his own son would just do the same. so much for getting dessert and be warm at home. “just take notes on the flavors he decides…” he warns her, knowing his son is nothing like him and wouldn’t ask for more than five different flavors.

There had to be at least thirty feet of Christmas tree lights in the box to his right, and as Zeke pulled those inch by inch, he was starting to get an idea how long it would take him to untangle that mess. Still, it was a comfortable distraction, a something for him to devote self absentmindedly while leading a conversation with his neighbor “Sounds like something I need as well.” he repeated words he’d heard his mother saying. ‘You work too much’ she’d said ‘You need to go out in the world and do something that isn’t surgery’. The opportunities were vast and Zeke wouldn’t even know where to begin, especially considering that nothing but medicine has interested him since…well, ever. Why did people have to have various interests, anyway? It was just fine devoting self to one thing only, right? “I did get ready for it but the moment I stepped in the building I decided I was better off in my apartment, so I spent it in with a friend. We discussed hernias over four glasses of wine. Did you know Madonna had a hernia? Also, I found out that she recorded more songs after Like a virgin. That was a revelation for me.” 

that sounds absolutely understandable on mathieu’s point of view, of course. had he not put in his head he needed to get his friend out of her house that night, it’s quite possible he also would’ve spent the night indoors. then again, that also wouldn’t be expected from him: staying inside of his house, with beatrice and bernard—his daily experiences with the older woman and his son were quite enough to make him almost avoid it at all costs (not that he has been a good job at it lately, trying to follow advices at being a better father).

“if i only knew you were debating about this, i would’ve given you a call. then it would be me, dragging two friends who needed a night out at once. it would probably give me enough good luck for the whole new year, doing a good deed such as this,” he comments, a smile opening on his lips as he helps the other man, taking some of the decoration. “so that’s the kind of conversation doctors have on their free time? seriously?” sounds unbelievable… but as an architect, it wouldn’t be that hard to see him always talking over it, always praising architecture styles, especially from the rococo movement. “i didn’t know about that… but… are you serious right now? you didn’t know she recorded more songs?” mathieu looks at him, completely surprised. “so you never listened to the iconic hung up? or the one she recorded with justin timberlake and timbaland? 4 minutes? do you live under a rock?” he doesn’t help the joke. “those are also getting old too though…”

she glanced down at his hand with the slight arch of a brow. she was never necessarily good at dancing - and truthfully she couldn’t remember the last time she did anything of the sort. when friends dragged her out to places like this she normally just people watched until it was time to go. there was a time when she probably would have jumped at the chance to attend something like this and dance the night away - but things were different now, and so was she.

reluctantly she took his hand, knowing he probably wouldn’t be taking no for an answer. she shook her head with a slight chuckle as they made their way from the bar towards the crowded middle of the floor. “ i can’t make any promises, ” she explains innocently, “ it’s been a while and i’m out of practice - so you might just have to deal with a few unwanted foot stompings. ”

an actual smile grows on his lips as they walked in the middle of all those people, only turning to look at her once they are around there. it’s been a long time that he has been around there like this too—going out to drink has nothing to do with dancing, and formal parties due to work and high society is far more classy than this. yet, either because it’s funny to see her actually letting herself be dragged around like this or something else entirely, mathieu finds himself chuckling when he raises their hands together just above her head, making her turn around.

“if you step on my feet i won’t be able to take you home in case you feel too tipsy,” he warns with his sarcastic tone as they dance, letting go of her hand but not moving too distant, not when there are so many people around them. “and you’re not old enough to be too out of practice, kat.”

Adelaide had found herself doing her work for the evening in the residents lounge, just wanting to power through everything so she could go back up to her apartment, and binge watch an entire series on Netflix. But, who was she kidding? This wasn’t how she wanted to spend her night, nights were for enjoying, not working. Letting out a deep sigh, Addie looked up, her eyes straight ahead, slowly letting her head turn, before they locked on someone elses’. She so into her assignment for work, she hadn’t even realized that someone else was in the room with her. Now that… that was rare. Offering a friendly grin, the young woman let out a “hey. Nice weather we’re having, huh?”

for quite a while he has been hearing how the residents lounge is a good place to go if you want to be alone—and, to be quite honest, he had proved it himself a few times, when he needed some time away from both his place and his office. rare occasions, truly, since he always found himself comfortable in his workplace, but it’s easier to escape to somewhere around the complex when he needs time from home than to cross the city. with a book in hand and his specs into his shirt’s pocket, he walks into the space only to find it occupied already. mathieu stops immediately, ready to turn around and leave, but her voice doesn’t let him—only then he takes a better look at who it is, recognizing her. “quite nice,” he agrees, back on walking and raising his eyebrow at her. “look at you, working even when you’re home,” he doesn’t help the tease when taking a quick look at what she’s doing before taking a seat. “how’s that going?”

although new york city isn’t carter’s “first” home, it feels like it. spending ten years of his adulthood in the city, he’s learned to adapt to its upper-east-side culture of high-level positions and high-class parties. of course, in the beginning, he wasn’t used to it. he wasn’t used to being “high-class,” but he found solace in people who were and were good for him. to carter, meeting mathieu is reminiscent of meeting a long-lost brother. despite their ages, they’ve found trust in each other. being carter’s closest friend, mathieu is someone who has seen the younger man in a condition, which he has not shown to many, but is grateful to have someone who knows.

“a bet? i don’t know.” carter chuckles as he shakes his head. truthfully, he has put his love life on hold, mostly because he has always been in a relationship with his high school sweetheart, even though he has dated other women on their “breaks,” which he has never initiated. when they parted for good, he fell apart. thus, he isn’t actively looking for someone in seattle, but he has found comfort in hookups and one-night stands. “it’s been a while,” he adds before he takes a sip of his drink. a smile crosses his lips. “i mean, you’re lucky. people start queuing after you say somethin’, but for me, it’s totally different. when i’m drunk, i’m too drunk to form coherent sentences. when i’m sober, i’m too unapproachable.” he gives his friend a grin. “but you have skills. i blame the accent.”

the more he hears carter speaking, the bigger his smirk grows, eyes looking at the crowd, people so busy with their own friends and acquaintances, dancing the night away. even being quite the narcissist, mathieu can only shake his head at the comments and, when he finally looks back at his friend, his eyebrow arches slowly. “and it’s exactly because of that ‘it’s been a while’ i would call the bet,” he points out, bringing his glass up to his lips and taking a small sip before continuing: “and yet, we both know you’ve managed one night stands quite a few times in the past months.”

that’s the problem with oversharing, he means to say as he stares at the younger, i know it all. “you think too highly of me, carter. but yes, the accent does have a way around here.” he agrees—it adds to his charm in america but, in his home country, it was his tone that people complained or pointed out as being the fault: too deep and composed. “and not to be extremely full of myself, but i have to remind you, i’m a great wingman.” he eyes the other in an almost too malicious way as he rests his elbow on the counter. “or so i’ve been told. by your drunk self, even…”

There’s an accent there that she can’t quite put her finger on. Not that her accent was any clearer but his was definitely muddled American. Mixed with something European sounding. Pleasing to the ear, sounding like honey. She smiles subconsciously, taking his hand and shaking his hand firmly. 

She snaps out of her daze. “Pleasure’s all mine, Mathieu,” she attempts to mimic his accent with his name. It’s crotchety. But better than if she’d try it with her mishmash of an accent. She begins making her way to the elevators motioning with her hands for him to follow him while she walks.

She steps inside of the elevator, mindful to not get her heel stuck in the gap. “Oh—oh really? He said that?” she’s surprised. She’s technically not “in charge” of everything here but, she is co-ceo so she’s glad to hear Mason thinks highly of her. She bites her lip to hide a smile. “Well technically, yes. I’m not technically VP but I did help put this company on the map.” Her hands slip into the back pockets of her cigarette pants. The elevator starts moving upwards and for a moment it’s silent. The only sound is the elevator displaying it’s trajectory on the huge LED screen on the left.

“I’d give you the whole spiel but, I imagine must have given it to you over the phone— or at some dinner? He did take you to dinner right? He’s good for that.” She says turning her body to face him slightly. Elevator still chugging.

not many people manage to pronounce his name correctly and usually he doesn’t mind—it always ends up like matthew depending on who speaks and on their own accents, but he has to admit it would always be pleasant whenever someone actually got it right (or tried). most people he worked for were the ones to get it easier, of course, with the whole professional talk, but he still smiles more at how it sounds in her voice, seeing how she mimics his own accent for it.

“is that surprising?” he doesn’t help the question as he follows her into the elevator, head tilting lightly. his eyebrows raise at that bit of information, of course, always impressed in seeing other people succeeding with their companies—impressed and quite amazed, too. “then he’s more than right to say that, i suppose,” mathieu chuckles, nodding slowly, light blue eyes staring at the led screen. “i think he let the dinner part for you,” he comments with a light playful tone—perhaps almost flirting tone, considering how his voice is so easy to get into that either. he turns to look at her for a second, grinning slowly. “i’m joking, obviously. he did take me to dinner, but it was after the call,” he finally explains, letting out a small laugh. “will i get a tour?”

“are you following me or something?” is his first reaction after bumping onto her for what seems to be the tenth time in a few months. obviously, that is an exaggeration—mathieu, as per usual, likes to make things more dramatic and bigger than they are, and his tone shows it perfectly. but, if he’s to be fair, sterling is really the last place he had expected to see tessa. seeing her in seattle was already quite a big surprise, but now they live in the same place?

few were the times they’ve crossed paths in the past ten years. it’s like a weird friendship, that loses its way suddenly and then comes back just as unexpectedly. however, it’s obvious he isn’t going to complain about it—there isn’t anyone like tessa, the one he doesn’t feel obligated to give details of his life, summing up happenings emotionless and having a good laugh. that’s the kind of thing he simply needs sometimes. “isn’t it enough we live in the same town again?”