fox face.

     He laughed as the man referred to this party as what it was for him - losing his socialite virginity. These parties were definitely a new experience for him. And he knew that he should be plugging his art - advertising to a crowd that definitely had wallets deep enough to pay for what he did. After all, this was Olyvar’s crowd, and he’d spent plenty of money on authentic Soleil Folliero paintings so far. Soleil could end the night a lot richer if he knew what to say regarding his passion and whom to say it to. 

     “Yes, it seems so… I feel awful to be attending the party without knowing the woman of honor - the woman of the hour?” One of those was the right phrases. American English phrases were not his strong suit. He hoped that the man understood what he meant. “But do pass along my well-wishes to the birthday girl. It is a beautiful evening…”

     He glanced over his shoulder towards the dessert table – he hadn’t even thought about it yet. Dessert before dinner sounded like a good way to ruin his appetite. And while he didn’t know what to expect, exactly, when it came to the food that they’d be served, he knew that it had to be the best of what was available, and he didn’t want to miss out on that. “Thank you for the suggestion, I will keep it in mind,” he replied, nevertheless gracious. Chuckling slightly, he bowed his head to look at his suit, pushing his hair out of his face as he tilted his chin up to meet the other man’s gaze again. “Thank you - it is the first of two of mine for the night. I suppose that is a little dramatic of me, but that is what they say about the French, is it not?” The truth was that he’d loved both suits equally, and why pick one over the other when he had every ability to pick both?

Well, the boy certainly seemed to have brought his humor with him to the table tonight, hadn’t he? It was refreshing, particularly coupled with the vast amount of people attending this evening who were so put off by simple jokes and humor. He had grown up among the upper class his entire life, having been born and bred into it, but sometimes they could be so tiring. Bothersome. Or, perhaps, Laurent was simply more youthful than others believed he ought to be. Who said thirty-six couldn’t be the new twenty-eight? No one!

“You really must get to know Bunny if you haven’t already; charming girl, loves to make friends,” Laurent answered with a simple smile. He’d seen Bunny grow up, in and out of social circles her adoptive father had navigated, and truly believed her an extraordinary young woman. Perhaps even a tad protective of her, truth be told. “She can talk circles around you, but it’s well worth it, I promise you. She always gets somewhere in the end.”

“Two outfit changes for the evening? A man who certainly didn’t come to play around.” Laurent whistled appreciatively, clapping the young man on the shoulder. “A boy dressed in blue; we could be matching. We’ll tell the other guests we planned it, of course--until you master your costume change. Then, I’m afraid, we’ll have to tell everyone else we simply had a falling out.” His eyes brightened at the young man’s next statement. “Ah! You are French! My mother immigrated here when she was--well, nigh older than you are, I’d say. What region are you from?”

     He’d mostly been speaking to himself when he commented on the state of the party, but when he heard a man’s voice reply to him, his eyes, and, after, his body, turned towards the source of the voice. That source turned out to be a man, taller than he was, in a suit just a bit bluer than his own. He took a small sip of the champagne, appreciating the taste in his mouth - it was definitely some of the best, if not the best, that money could buy. 

     Soleil chuckled as the man pointed out that he seemed unaccustomed to the setting - that was an understatement. While he’d grown up with money, his parents didn’t have money like this. None of his birthday parties looked like this. “You could say that,” he agreed, looking around. While his upbringing was not without opulence, this was something above and beyond that. On his nineteenth birthday, he’d lamented to Evie and Tyler in broken English about how he was unable to drink to celebrate in America. There was no ball, no… whatever one wanted to call this. Just three kids in a college dorm room watching some godawful movie.

     As the man made his way over, he asked a question that Soleil was entirely unprepared for. How did he know Bunny Golightly? “Well…” he started, taking another sip of his champagne to delay his answer. Once he swallowed, he came up with an answer that he thought was good enough. “I am a friend of a friend. I was invited by this mutual friend of ours. I do not hope to disturb these celebrations too badly - only to… partake. Enjoy. Oui?”

"Losing your socialite virginity, that’s what I like to call it,” Laurent said frankly with a point and a wink in the younger man’s direction. It was all in good fun, truly; he’d often felt that the class divide in society was separated by too wide a margin. People had scoffed and said such dreadful things when he’d chosen to bring his assistant as a date that evening, but who were they to say what deemed someone worthy of another’s attention? Laurent could have had all the money in the world, and still would have been nowhere as interesting as someone like Melody Sonnenblume.

He didn’t seem to have a direct answer for how he knew Bunny, which indicated one of two things to Laurent: either the boy had snuck into the party to participate in the festivities (and who could blame him, really? It was one hell of a party) or he was attending as the plus one of any of the other guests invited by the Golightly clan. Laurent had had the pleasure of seeing Bunny grow up, having been well-acquainted with her adoptive father, but he knew the same couldn’t be said for many of the attendants this evening.

“Seems to be the consensus this evening; I’m starting to wonder if I’m one of the only people familiar with the birthday girl,” he said with a laugh, nursing his martini. “I’d definitely recommend checking out the dessert table if you haven’t already; some really fantastic finds over there.” He gestured at the blue suit stitched with flowers the other wore. “Magnificent get-up, truly.”

"Fascinating!” Laurent declared, a grin brightening his features as he turned from the dessert table, holding up a small pink cake set to look like a miniature wedding cake. Three-tiered with smooth fondant, icing, and edible glitter. He knew he likely sounded like an old man, particularly among the younger socialites rising to prominence in society for the first time, but Laurent decidedly did not care. He had always done whatever he was interested in when he was interested in it--and with a smile on his face. 

“Who catered this event? They must work at the next party I throw, look at the craftsmanship!”

☼ open ☼

     “It is a beautiful night for a party…” though, to Soleil, every night was a beautiful night for a party. Nevertheless, this one in particular was breathtakingly beautiful. He could tell that no expenses had been spared. He knew that the Golightlys had more money than anyone could count, but, even if he hadn’t known that beforehand, the visual of this event was enough to prove that to anyone. 

     What was he doing at the party? Just some fresh-faced artist in a city full of fresh-faced artists; he really had no place there. Despite that, he’d been invited by Damien Olivier himself, and who was he to say no to the Parrain? In fact, who was he to not go above and beyond for him? Yes – it was a beautiful night for the party, but it was a beautiful night for Soleil, as well. Some may call him dramatic, coming with an entire outfit change for after the sun set, but he was surely no more dramatic than most people here - he was just taking advantage of the party as anyone should. After all, in a room full of the richest people in New York, one could surely sell a few paintings, gain a few commissions. A good night to be had, beautiful clothing to be worn, money to be made, drinks to be sipped.

     Standing with a glass of champagne, he was planning on making the very most of this party - after all, who would waste an open bar and the opportunity to mingle in this crowd?

"It is, isn’t it?” Laurent managed near his perch by the open bar; he’d started out simple, asking for a martini as his eyes scanned the faces that teemed across the Garden Hotel. Some new, some old; some familiar as the back of his hand, some as foreign as the designer suit he was wearing. He had little to no idea who the starry-eyed young man was, but he seemed almost intoxicated by the atmosphere of the party. Laurent had found it endearing, even.

“You seem relatively unaccustomed to this entire setting,” Laurent managed with a wave of his hand, reaching for his martini glass and taking a tentative sip. That was the most interesting thing about parties, he thought privately; it allowed him to make all sort of acquaintances--usually from the same class bracket as himself, but sometimes those who had different walks of life were more fascinating than his own peers.

“Tell me,” he said, holding his glass by its cool stem and making his way over to where the young man stood. “How do you know the birthday girl?”

LAURENT BRODAIRE ☾ GOLIGHTLY GALA

Santi listened with amusement to the onesided conversation with poor, beleaguered Alfred. He took Laurent’s hand and shook it, “Santiago Navarette. It’s no trouble, I so rarely to get weigh in on matters such as Michael Jackson.” The arm holding the cane began to quiver. “You’ll forgive me but I must sit. However, you’re welcome to join me.” 

“Of course, I’m so sorry,” Laurent said apologetically, gesturing to a table and chairs not far off from their spot of discussion. Laurent took a seat and shrugged, finally answering his statement from earlier. “I find it to be an important question; after all, how can you really get to know someone without knowing all of the little things about them? Sadly, Alfred doesn’t understand this always. You, though--I think we could get along, Mr. Navarette.”

“I wish I could say that I did something that was cool like that. Except I don’t drink enough wine to know enough about that stuff.” Bohai shrugged his shoulders. “I work for a private security firm. I basically get paid to look scary. Every once in a while I might get to throw someone out of somewhere.” 

"Not much of a wine man? Don’t worry, I’m sure I can change your mind on the subject.” Laurent said, clapping a hand on the young man’s shoulder with a grin and a wink. “Security firm, hmm? Interesting--tell me, do you do commission work or anything like that? I’m considering adding some new technology to my office, but I’m not sure which avenue to venture down. Everything is so high-tech these days.”

“That’s true, there are very few songs or artists that I can say I have loved consistently since i discovered them.” In fact the amount of artists or bands she followed was little. “Fashion is such a fable thing, things go out of fashion so fast and then ten years later they are back, but I think that is also part of the fun of it. or some variant of it returns anyway.”

“Things have been quite good for me thanks, and to you?” She asked politely before tilting her head as he continued speaking “New visitors? Who are this mysterious people do you know?” She hadn’t heard anything after all. “Well I hope so, new appearances are always nice to have, well for the most part at the very least they give something to talk about.”

"It seems to be a requirement to recycle things every ten years or so; I dread the day when they decide low rise jeans or velour tracksuits are in again,” Laurent managed with a slight shudder. The Hiltons and Lohans of the world might have thrived on the fashion of the early-to-mid-2000′s, but Laurent preferred not to think about the catastrophe that was millennium-transitional fashion.

“Things have been...great, yes, thank you,” Laurent managed, forcing a smile rather evasively. In truth, things had been crumbling down steadily ever since his falling out with Melody, only made worse by the fact that she still worked for him. But, he wasn’t likely to tell a young woman that; particularly one he didn’t know well enough to get into those sort of conversations with. “I haven’t heard much, only that there are new businesses cropping up by some very wealthy investors. I might have a look around, see if they’d be interested in doing anything promotional with Brodaire Winery. You know as well as I do, Miss Rothschild; nothing in this city stays a secret for long.”

Daniel nodded, “Yeah, definitely should be safe. I don’t turn down food of any kind.” He laughed and shook his head, “no, not at all, man. I don’t even know you. I just like to hear normal conversations happening. This city doesn’t really have a lot of those going on most of the time. Daniel. Daniel Lincoln. Nice to meet you.” 

"Normal conversations? A bit dull if you don’t try to meet new people and broaden your horizons, if you ask me,” Laurent said honestly, shaking the man’s hand. “The pleasure’s entirely mine, Daniel Lincoln. Are you a native of the city, then? Or is this whole thing--” he paused, gesturing around him with a wave of his hand “--relatively new to you?”

Melanie took advantage of ordering another drink, a hot chocolate since having any more caffeine would be too bad for her at this point.  And since her new friend was ordering a muffin for himself, it inspired her to order a cookie so she could have something to munch on too. She was delighted, never expecting that a new friend would be made during an ordinary outing. This was one of the reasons why she didn’t always rely on her personal assistant for her coffee orders. She quite liked the connections that could be made with the people of the city. 

“Oh oui, un compatriote français?” Melanie perked up, always happy to meet new fellow countrymen, especially one that is so charismatic as Mr. Brodaire. Her smile only widened in response. “This explains it then, why you have such good taste yourself, Monsieur Brodaire. Oui, I am French. Born in Paris actually, but I’ve been living in the states for a few years now. It is my second home.” Melanie took another sip of her lukewarm coffee, finishing up the last of it and setting the cup aside for the staff to pick up. “So, Monsieur Brodaire, what do you do in this lively city? If you don’t mind me asking of course.”

Laurent’s smile only broadened when his new acquaintance took his order of a muffin as cue to order food for herself; exactly the sort of companion he was interested in having. Laurent’s love affair with food was a sore spot of contention among him and Melody; she was convinced he was going to eat himself into poor health or a coma. He was inclined to disagree; even in middle-age, he still felt his body was in pretty decent shape, all things considered. Nevertheless, Laurent sat back, adjusting the lapels of his jacket after ordering his food and beverage for the morning.

“Dans la chair, mademoiselle,” Laurent managed with a slight flourish of his hands. “If it wasn’t for my mother, I would have grown up with considerably less multi-cultural influence. It’s a shame they don’t start teaching children second languages earlier on over here; I think the States could really benefit from the inclusion of diverse cultures. Laurent paused briefly, as their orders were delivered, and picked up his espresso, blowing lightly at the steam and taking a sip before answering her question. “I spend most of my time traveling between the west and east coasts; I was born in California, but as I’m in charge of the family business now, I spend a lot of time here in the city. And you? Paris, that’s fascinating; I can’t imagine how rich your life experiences must be.”

anonymously or not, tell me who you ship me with

"I did, too, but I didn’t realize it until it was too late. I mean, that’s what the kids say, right? ‘Ship’? I used Urban Dictionary to look it up. Look, the bottom line is: I fucked up. I didn’t realize I fucked up, but I did. And now Melody will hardly look at me.

But I still remember nights spent by the fireplace, with hot chocolate and fondue. I still remember the laughs, the teasing, the relentless hours spent--yes. Well. You know.”

( @melodyjuliette )

“Is this a Star Wars reference? I don’t cosplay, sorry. Neat costumes, though!”

“...Yes, but I didn’t--I don’t think I realized it until it was too late.”

“Well, I suppose we’re just getting right to the point now, aren’t we?”

“Well, I mean. I’m a big fan of double penetration, cock and pussy worship, rope bunnies, DDLG roleplaying, and toys--anal beads, floggers, dildos, whips, swings, bindings. You know, the works.”