the parting glass

[Maeve raised an eyebrow, regarding the stranger with a sharp smirk. What he said about prostitutes rubbed her the wrong way— it seemed harsh to judge them, when the only difference between her and the sort of prostitute that Dominick seemed to revile so much was sheer luck. The comment about her being shallow was a sort of last straw, and with a sardonic smile, she calmly flicked her glass to spill her drink all over the man’s smug face, the cold liquid dripping down his bare chest.] With that superior attitude of yours, I’m sure that you will, too. 

[Ignoring the raised brow, Dominick turned away from her. His own derogatory comment going strait over his head. In his eyes he was just being honest. If she didn’t like what he had to say, well, then she could turn her lingerie-clad ass around and simply walk away. But no, that would be too easy. Maeve just had to have the last laugh. Turning back around, he smiled smugly at her.]

[A somewhat amused smirk tugged at Dominick’s lips, his green eyes shifting to look at her.] Edgy? [He snorted softly with a roll of his eyes. He wouldn’t be surprised if he was starting to get under her skin. Obviously he was by her body language and it only made his smirk grow. If she wasn’t amused why was she hanging about? Didn’t she have some master or mistress to cozy up to? The thought made him chuckle to himself. Straitening his posture he looked down at her, his own arms folded over his chest.] Glorified prostitute? [He chuckled and shook his hand at her naivety.] No, see… There is a very fine line between their line of work and ours. You see, love, if I was a prostitute I wouldn’t be making the money I make. And I would probably have some sort of STD. [Dominick smiled pleasantly at her, albeit obviously forced. Her words almost making him laugh as he studied her for a long moment.] Wow… Shallow and an alcoholic. You’ll fit right into this place.

[Maeve raised an eyebrow, regarding the stranger with a sharp smirk. What he said about prostitutes rubbed her the wrong way-- it seemed harsh to judge them, when the only difference between her and the sort of prostitute that Dominick seemed to revile so much was sheer luck. The comment about her being shallow was a sort of last straw, and with a sardonic smile, she calmly flicked her glass to spill her drink all over the man's smug face, the cold liquid dripping down his bare chest.] With that superior attitude of yours, I'm sure that you will, too. 

I’d like to think that rules don’t quite apply to us here, at least pointless ones like that. And pretending not to appreciate what’s in front of you is almost as bad as lying, which I’m not a fan of. [Cade couldn’t help his chuckle at the blasé gesture] Fair enough.

I mean, I'm pretty sure there are people fucking about ten feet away from us, so I guess you're right about the rules here. [She grinned, pushing herself off the wall and straightening up.] That makes sense. I was still a bit new here before the renovations, but I coulda seen you in the hallway or something. I'm Maeve. Nice to meet you, Cade.

Well, if there wasn’t liquid courage flowing so freely, I don’t know if some of these escorts would be walking around so… what’s the best way of putting this? Freely? [Amelie laughed softly under her breath, motioning to a few of the escorts who had chosen to go for the ‘less is more’ route of dressing.] I’d be freezing my tits off if I had to parade about with nothing on.

Ah, I think I'm freezin' my tits off anyway! [Maeve laughed cheerfully, grin stretching wide.] Kudos to them, though-- I don't feel I've got an insane amount of modesty, but I don't think I could parade around naked in public, either. [She shrugs, taking another drink of her whiskey.] I'm Maeve, by the way. 

[Eyebrows furrowed slightly at her laugher, had he said something amusing? Looking down into his glass he swirled it slowly, his expression somewhat bored by his surroundings. Feeling her eyes on him Dominick glanced over, his eyes taking in the smirk that tugged against her lips. At her words he rolled his eyes playfully, a smirk pulling at his lips.] Correction, babe. [Dominick paused for a moment, running his tongue over his lips. He leaned forward slightly as he regarded her in return. That sardonic tone in his voice never flattering.] I don’t thrive in my own misery. I thrive in the misery of others. [He shrugged slightly, his tight-lipped smile curving. Wasn’t it obvious?] Oh, nothing really. I just  love wasting my time parading around in my underwear for a bunch of tight-assed rich-folk.

[Maeve snorted with sardonic amusement, unmoving as she regarded him lackadaisically.] Ah, how edgy of you. [She didn't find that sort of social sadism and pessimism too charming, personally, and she was slightly unimpressed with his attitude. Still, she was smirking, her arms coming up to cross over her bare stomach as he explained his displeasure.] Well, you have signed on to work as a glorified prostitute for said rich folk, so I'm not sure what you expected. Personally, I'm taking advantage of the open bar and the abundance of pretty faces.

[There’s a playful slant to her grin, flirtation undeniable yet still somehow restrained — not cloying or dripping. And it’s good, that this place isn’t all leering and double entendres, that it can be playful and not just predatory. A dance instead of blunt and to the point. Or, at least, that’s what he hopes to make it.

[Her grin widens at the slight joking, the offer of a drink making Tate seem slightly less reluctant to be there. She knows how it feels to feel a bit out of place in the Apartments-- Christ knows she was certainly a bit out of her depth the first couple weeks that she was there-- and while his reservation is endearing, she doesn't want him to feel uncomfortable, either. They're at a party, after all, and Maeve is talented at nothing if not making such events enjoyable for everyone around her. Maybe she should have gotten a job in the entertainment industry-- but then again, she thinks wryly, maybe she sort of did.

[Practically inhaling the champagne he had snagged from a passing waiter, Dominick busied himself from his position on the wall by watching the masters and mistresses  passing by. Every so often his amused gaze would follow a fellow escort.] Pass… pass… ooh… pass… [The brunette muttered under his breath softly, his calculating gaze sweeping up and down the passing bodies that he judged. Obviously, he was playing a drinking game by himself. What was he judging exactly? If they were even remotely fuckable. At the sound of a soft voice he didn’t even bother looking up as he spoke into the glass.] That’s the best joke I’ve heard all night.

[Maeve laughed, unbothered by the other escort's surly tone. Pushing off the wall, she regarded him with interest, her smile verging on a smirk as she took in his hunched, reluctant demeanor.] Sorry we don't all thrive by wallowing in our misery. [She shifted her weight, a hip popping out as she crossed her arms and looked up at the unfamiliar man.] What's got your boxers in a bunch?

[Though maybe not necessarily proud, Tate does pride himself in some things. And one of them is being an island, of sorts. That he’s not susceptible to influence, not susceptible to most things, really. He moves through life, he exists, and if anything truly touches him, it’s not long before he shakes it off. And that pride has been a little twisted, loneliness peeking through the gaps of a habit that he doesn’t know how to break, now. No longer knows whether it’s a habit or if it’s become something more, a part of his very fabric.

[Maeve watches his eyes flicker downward, quickly taking in her figure before looking back up again, and while her little smile stays innocuously the same, she feels a bit smug inwardly. It probably isn't nice of her, but she always has enjoyed testing the willpower of men. It's no fun if the men have no willpower, though, and that is all too often the case when it comes to the masters here. She likes Tate-- likes that he's reserved, that he didn't immediately go for the metaphorical jugular. But she thinks that she's also going to like tempting him to come out of that shell, and maybe she should feel guilty for always going for the nice guys with some semblance of morals when all she wants to do is make them give up those morals for her. The second circle of Hell probably has a spot reserved for her already-- or, possibly, a throne. 

my mama always told me not to need a man but one thing i should know is that i have the upper hand and if i do indulge in showing him my plans the one thing he should know is i can also wear the pants with my fucking heels on

[Cade circled around the lounge, making polite conversation here and there but always slipping away as things became more personal; it’d been a while since he’d done personal. The woman in the corner seemed to be doing much of the same.] If I’m not mistaken, I think that was the point of an event like this, yes?

Well, yeah, but I think I'm supposed to pretend to be bothered by the public lack of modesty or something. Some sort of unspoken social rule. [Maeve shrugged, incredibly unconcerned.] Either way, there's an open bar and attractive people everywhere, so I'm not too worried about the dress code. 

It’s probably a clever scheme, the temperature. [He says, a grin tugging at a corner of his mouth.] Encouraging shared body heat. [She seems bright and unconcerned about her own lack of dress, and so Tate kind of — acts like it’s normal. Doesn’t ignore it, he doesn’t have the constitution to do that, but plays it off as if talking to more than half-naked women is something he does on a regular basis.

Ah, shit, I'd bet you're right. [She casts a glance around, eyebrows rising and lips curving into an amused smile.] Seems to be working, at that. 

[Amelie shrugs easily at the comment, her hand clinking the ice cubes in the empty glass that she’s refusing to put down now that she’s picked it up. She stands back against the wall, sighing contently, a small smile on her features.] It’s impossible to feel horrible when you’re wearing lace. Proven fact. 

[Maeve tilts her head to look over at the other woman, a sharp grinning spreading across her face.] Well, I agree with you. I'm feelin' pretty great right now, actually. S'been a long day, so I appreciate the open bar.

Full name: Maeve O’Toole Age: 24 Date of Birth: 16 August Hometown: Tullamore, Ireland Sexuality: Heteroflexible Apartment: 4B, Escort Section