Queen of Everything

There wasn't a lot to look forward to in a town like Havensdale, but there were still a few surprises. Sylvie Dupont had managed to tick both boxes with ease. Lennon had been thinking about her - I mean, who wouldn't, right? - and the drinks they'd had at Cal's. She was a class act, that much was true. So, after heavy negotiations with the world's most eccentric florist, Lennon had spent her not-so hard-earned cash on a particularly elegant bouquet of pink roses. Sylvie was easy to pick out of the crowd, too. Lennon took a small breath in before pulling on her most charming smile and confidently making her way over.

It had been a long time since Sylvie had met someone like Lennon Baker, someone who made her pause, knocked her just a little off-balance (but in a good way, a thrilling way). It wasn't much of a surprise; after all, it wasn't like a flood of newcomers were entering Havensdale these days, so Sylvie would take what she could get. And it seemed like Lennon was willing to give her...well...something. And if that something was roses, Sylvie wasn't going to say know. The smile on her face was genuine as she took the flowers. "These are lovely. How did you know that I can't say no to roses? Am I that much of a cliche?"

Leon had been lying low for a long time. The whole supernatural war was not at all his thing. He was a good time kind of vampire, not looking to fight a bunch of humans or good guys. He was in Havensdale for one reason, finding his maker. He had thought about Suzy every day since he had met her, and this was the best lead he had.

Sylvie tried not to judge, but she was not particularly good at it. "A dozen shots?" she echoed, one eyebrow raising just a hair higher than was strictly necessary. "Oh dear, that can't be a good sign." She was intruding, and she knew it, but she also knew the quality of the liquor at Franks', and she felt an obligation to spare her fellow citizens' livers. "At least let me pay for something top shelf."

"Tequila? Oh god, no." Ricky laughed, turning fully away from the temptation. "I think the last thing Joseph and Felicity want is for me to turn this into a classic Ricky Rager–and between you and me, I'm not sure I'm capable of dancing on tables anymore."

"Dancing on tables? It's been awhile since I've seen that. Goodness...Not since, hmm, it would have been the Moulin Rouge, I think. A fantastic night. Beautiful gowns..." Sylvie let out a happy sigh as she became lost in thought.

A small smile tugged onto his lips at Sylvie's words, she had always seen the world in a much kinder light than he did. "All the humans I know are fighters," he said. Even so, her words rang true. They were strong and impossibly resilient, but still human. Mortal. Just look at what had happened to his girls, to Carrie and Ruby. "Hopefully, I have a few more things going for me. Charming? Devastatingly good-looking? Feel free to jump in," he teased. Jordan laughed then, feeling lighter than they had in months. "Time will tell."

Sylvie thought about the humans she had known through the years. Until Havensdale, she had never been particularly close to any of them, nothing more than people she went to parties with. But yes, she did suppose the humans here were...scrappy. She had to give them that. "Are you trying to get me to compliment you, Jordan? You could have just asked. Hmm. Let me see." She pretended to consider it, teasingly dragging it out. "Both of those, of course. And clever. Don't forget clever."

"Absolutely. Fashion is... Well, it was my life. It still is," she corrected, listening intently to Sylvie speak. She could sense she was a vampire, and that only made Stella more curious about her. How many lifetimes had she lived? "Oh, you don't have to tell me. Living in this fishbowl is borderline unbearable, but we make do. Let's talk more about you, though. I would love to know what some of your favourite pieces have been? You are screaming classic chic to me. Black and white, perhaps some pastels. One, iconic, bold piece. Stop me at any time."

"Oh, it clearly is. Look at what you're wearing." Sylvie was more than a little impressed. She, personally would not have put that particular outfit together, but she could not deny that was a stunning combination and that Stella Bell more than pulled it off. "I just weep at the thought of how out of date I will look when I'm able to leave. What if low-rise jeans have returned? I'd just be so..." Sylvie let out an over-dramatic shudder at the thought. "You have amazing instincts. I go crazy for something classic. Always have. What can I say? It's in my blood."

Paul followed her lead, vigilant of their surroundings, with every step taken in the direction of Rhonda's. A smile tugged at his lips at her question. "A quiet night is more than alright with me. This town could use a dozen or so more, I think."

"Oh no, not a dozen quiet nights." Sylvie frowned at the thought. "That would be so boring. I'd want a little bit of music at least. Some jazz, maybe? I'm not that picky." That was a blatant lie. "Nothing too chaotic though. I am tired of all that."

"As you should," she grinned. Lennon was born adaptable, she learned how to survive here in record time. After that, there was nothing left to do but have a little fun. "Truer words, the man loves his record collection. He's arguably prouder of it than me, even if he denies it profusely. Well, thanks a lot for the vote of confidence, Duchess. I'll try and live up to it." Lennon raised her drink to her, before taking another sip. That was a very non-answer answer. "Mysterious. Me? Classic case of curiosity killed the cat. I was happily minding my own business, more or less, back in Vegas when I started having these weird dreams. Turns out they were weird, psychic, dreams that tricked me into thinking I had to be here. Long story short, I end up past the 'welcome sign' just in time to get locked in forever. There you have my origin story."

Sylvie hadn't been expecting Lennon to give her an actual answer to the question of her origin. After all, Sylvie had not exactly been forthcoming on her end. But, as Lennon continued to explain, Sylvie found her eyes widening as she listened. Yes, she had heard quite a few stories in her day, some more unbelievable than others, but Lennon's certainly was unique. Despite herself, Sylvie wanted to believe it. After all, Las Vegas was a place where things happened. "Psychic dreams?" she repeated. "What an unusual experience. Are you, well not to be rude, a psychic normally? I don't think I've ever met one before, you know." And it was nice to meet someone new.

Stella couldn't help it, she was practically beaming at the stream of compliments coming her way. She had missed fashion, missed designing, more than she'd care to admit. She even missed the recognition, to say the least. "Thank you for saying that, it means... well, honestly more than you know. You must let me know if you're in the market for something new. I have literally nowhere else to be, and I'd love a new project for a worthy muse. It is a relief to meet you, Sylvie."

"Of course. Fashion...Well it's not quite my entire life, but it definitely is a priority of mine. It has been since I was..." On second thought, Stella Bell did not need to know exactly how old Sylvie was. "Let's just say for quite a few years, yes? Oh, I'm always in the market for something new. You have no idea how frustrating it's been to be limited to what's in town, thanks to..." She gestured up at the sky vaguely.

"You're all heart, Syl," he said softly, gently brushing her cheek. Jordan had wished a million times that things could be different. Every time he thought he could... he didn't know, be happy? Have something, someone, he messed it up. Edward called, he dropped everything. Now look at them. "I make it pretty easy to worry, I know." A small smile tugged at his lips at her disdain for Frederick Bellefonte. "Well, you have a point there. Might just be my pride talking. I'm sure I'll get my chance, but until then I'll be on my best behaviour. Promise."

She had heard similar sentiments from others in the past, but Sylvie did not mind. She had experienced enough coldness in her life as a human to prefer to be kind, even if it meant that others viewed her as overly soft-hearted. "I'd worry a lot more if you were a human," she acknowledged. "They're so...fragile. So, you do have that going for you." At the mention of him being on good behaviour, she could not help but let out a small laugh despite her nerves. "Now that I would like to see."

"Unfortunately, that is my cross to bear with many of you darlings. There are certainly pros and cons to knowing someone all your life when you're immortal immortal. At the mo, I do not recommend it." Amara loved her fellow originals, sure, but forever is a long time. "Psh. I'm just grateful to have someone interesting to talk to. Someone stylish to gaze upon in awe. Yes, let's toast to us!" Amara clinked! her glass with Sylvie's and took a long sip. "May we soon be doing this over a view of Paris."

Being that old, Sylvie couldn't stand it. Sure, she wasn't really one to talk, she supposed, but a few centuries was an entirely different beast than more than a millennium, and that was that. "At least you have plenty of embarrassing stories to share. You could write quite the book, I would imagine." At the comment about being both interesting and stylish, Sylvie pretending to be embarrassed, although it would have been more convincing if she were actually blushing. She clicked her glass. "To us. To the most stylish and intelligent vampires in town."

"Hmm..." She repeated, still not entirely convinced. Being around all of these vampires was... difficult, to say the least. There wasn't a day that went by that Wendy wasn't comparing her ageing body to their stunning, frozen genes. She didn't understand why Edward wouldn't turn her while she was still young and beautiful. It wasn't fair. "What age were you when you became a vampire?" It probably wasn't something you were supposed to ask a vampire, unprompted, but Wendy wanted to know.

It couldn't be easy, being the only human among all the rest of them. Sylvie couldn't even begin to imagine. At Wendy's question, Sylvie frowned, ever so slightly. It had been quite a while since she had thought about her time as a human, let alone how she had changed. "Oh, I was young. Not much older than twenty if I recall. But it was so long ago, and you know how it is..." Besides, there had been so much going on back then.

"You are?" For once, Stella's shock was genuine as she pressed her hand to her heart. It had been so long since she'd felt normal, since she'd been recognised. "I'll admit I thought that fashion was one of the many things that had died in this town. What a relief. Well, I am a little disappointed, but there's always next time. Will you sit?"

"Of course I am," Sylvie said, a little surprised by the woman's response to her compliment. "Of all the young up-and-comers, you were always one of my favorites. The whole aesthetic and the level of quality...I really cherish every single one of my pieces. Oh, I promise that if the weather is better, I'll wear it just for you." Sylvie sat as soon as the offer was extended. "I'm Sylvie, by the way."

"You can sit down, you know," she offered, quirking a perfectly shaped brow above her sunglasses. "I won't bite."

"I'm just still basking in the presence of the one and only Stella Bell," Sylvie explained, with a smile. "I was actually contemplating wearing one of your pieces today, but with the weather, I thought something more sensible was in order."

Jordan's expression softened as she spoke. He would never blame her for landing on Edward's side of this. There was nowhere to run, she had to make the best of the situation. He regretted what it meant for them, of course. "Thank you, Sylvie, I appreciate that. You did what you had to do to survive," he said kindly. "You don't have to worry about me, though. I might have to take another swing at Frederick, but I can live until then."

At least they were on the same page. Or at least, as near to the same page as they could be. Still, she was grateful for the metaphorical olive branch, found herself giving Jordan a genuine smile, even if it was a small one, in response. "I think we're all just trying to survive. Oh, don't say that. I'll worry either way, I'm afraid. It's just my nature, I think." Any peace she felt vanished at the mention of Frederick. "Oh Jordan, no. You should stay away from him. He's so...I don't like him. Really."

"You've definitely got that energy," Lennon grinned, voice taking on the dramatic tone she used to use for clients in Vegas. Now she was just using it for flirtin' instead of hustling. She let out a little laugh at Sylvie's observations, nodding at Big Jerry as he mixed up the drinks before sliding them over. "My dad sure thought so, too. Pretty big shoes he was thinking about putting me in, I must say. Understood. A few classy glasses for you and we'll see where we land." Lennon gestured for her to take a seat beside her at the bar. "So, what brought you to this tin can of a town?"

"I'll take that as a compliment," Sylvie laughed. Yes, she certainly was enjoying chatting with the other woman, and she was fairly sure that she would have felt the same way regardless of if drinks were present or not. This Lennon was simply an enjoyable personality. "Well, he has excellent taste in music then. And I'm sure that you'll more than be able to fill those shoes. I have utter confidence." She took a small sip of her drink, letting out a pleased sigh as she did so. "Me and Havensdale? Oh, you know how it is. This and that. And you?"