maneater.

Well fuck him. Lev is staring at this guy, amusement glaringly obvious, as he rattles off an answer and spares no detail. “Damn, I thought I was fucking judgy.” Clearing his throat, he glances around before making the ultimate decision to be a complete fucking asshole about it. Why not? He’ll never see this guy again. “Sounds like–” Best behavior, he’d been instructed. With a sigh, Lev sucks it the fuck up and stops himself from popping off. “Sounds like you have a lot of experience with all that.”

“Judgy?” Dan repeats without missing a breath. Blank expression, holding onto nothing but a few blinks. Like a true ponderer. “No, I’m not judging. I’m critiquing. Criticizing. It’s different.” He shrugs. “Even, the upper...upper class could use a critic every once in a while.”  His tongue loves tangents so much so, they don’t even have to make sense. 

Now, that Daniel has found what he considers an eager ear, he could talk all night. “All sorts, man. I mean, I had my first beer at six. Not a full one, half of my step dad’s. I had my first whole one at ten. That was a good birthday. Then,  I went to my first party, real party, when I was fifteen.. which was in a basement.  I think there was a keg there?” He shrugs. “What? You’ve never been to a basement party?” 

Tonight is going to be one hell of a struggle for the counselor. The only escape Aurora found herself doing since she couldn’t drive a knife into someone, she drank. Eventually the woman found a way to amuse herself by playing a little game: take a drink for each fucker she sees and completely loathes. Of course the Irish wanted to stay sharp and alert as well so before even beginning to dance with this little game she ordered herself the weakest wine that was present. It still did the job in numbing the urge to commit homicide.

Her ears began to listen in on the surrounding conversations that took place as she kept the glass close to her. Is that – shit, The counselor brought the half empty glass to her lips and took a sip. It was a sight to see though for Aurora. All her enemies in one place and dressed in the nicest threads, maybe threads to prepare them for a casket. Mama always did say – fuck! Aurora takes another sip.

Her senses then kicked in as she felt someone behind her with that infamous gut telling Aurora she was about to engage in a conversation. The sheer annoyance alone made her take a rather larger sip than usual. Part of her began to regret in not picking a stronger choice of drink.

Daniel is a glass half full kind of guy, until he guzzles down the whiskey. Then, it’s just a empty glass. Optimism and alcoholism is his usual approach at life, so it’s natural that he’s using both to self sooth this evening . He’s trying to have a good time. Danny smoked a joint and took a shot, maybe two, to ensure that he would. Now the effects are starting to wear off, and if he isn’t careful, he’ll be sober soon.

Which leads him to the bar. The open bar.  Dinner hasn’t begun yet, so voices chitter and chatter around him. The faces don’t look familiar. There’s probably some big players here, but he’s nearly clueless. Danny knows he pledged his allegiance to Oliver Faust, and he knows he despises Liam O’Shea and his clan. But, Daniel sure as hell couldn’t pick the O’Shea out of a line up. Maybe, even the Faust too. He’s got a shit memory. 

After, he gets his drink, his first whiskey sour, Daniel notices a pretty, blonde standing by her lonesome. Then he notices himself, also standing by his lonesome. What does he got to lose?

"You know how people say, ‘Does anybody ever have fun at these things?’” Daniel says to her. Then, a shrug. “Well, I am.”

Open to: ALL (pre-dinner)

This isn’t his favorite thing to do. He’s been to more fundraisers than he can even try to count, and each is more boring than the next. Which is why, naturally, he has to travel around the place and mingle before he’s tied to a table full of strangers. It’s with a vodka water in hand that he turns and automatically places a smile on his face as he makes that awkward kind of eye contact. “I always wonder how much is spent on the event up against how much is raised.” Lev gestures vaguely around. “This shit isn’t cheap.”

@crimsonstarters​

The party is big and the lights are  so shiny, but not in a way that amazes the curly haired kid. It makes him nauseous instead.  Daniel eases his stomach the best way he knows how, with a jack and coke. He’s sipping on it as his eyes meets  a stranger’s. It’s no shock, the room is full of them. But this one wants to talk. 

Danny shrugs. “Probably more money we can even fathom,” he answers. “They use the guise of a charity to pay themselves back. Partly, at least.” Danny snickers. “Frankly, I don’t get it. I’d rather go to a basement party and chug from a keg, but..” He takes a swing from his drink, “..beggars can’t be choosers.”

“I’LL GO IF I CAN WEAR MY DEATH STAR CUFFLINKS.”

WHERE: Java Addicts

WHEN: Around 16:30

WITH: Open ( @crimsonstarters​ )

JAVA ADDICTS HAD ALWAYS ACTED as a sort of safe haven for the brunette. The quaint little cafe served as the one place she sought solace time and time again. The one place she felt fully able to escape the hubbub of daily living and all the stresses attached to life. Call it a throwback to her university days. Or, perhaps, Katia Vasile was simply a creature of habit. Either way, the boyevik was rather fond of the establishment. Occupying a corner table, a steaming cup of coffee and a half-eaten croissant perched next to her, red-polished fingertips tapped against the glass screen of her phone ; hurriedly responding to a text message. If she’d been further engrossed, she might have failed to take notice of the figure approaching. Casting a brief glimpse, emerald hues momentarily considering the person before her, an expression of indifference claimed Katia’s expression. “ Listen, ” she began, continuing with her one-handed typing. “ I don’t have a lot of time to waste. So I suggest you either take a seat or move along. ” Her tone was laced with mild irritation, words evident with subtle annoyance.

The shop is hustling and bustling more like it should in the morning time rather than the afternoon. And crowds always gets his anxiety rattled. On top of that, he’s looking for Blue Shirt, Black Jeans aka a presumably middle aged man who rather meet the dealer somewhere public than at his own private address. 

Daniel sees Blue Shirt-Blue Jeans, Black Jeans-Red Shirt, but Blue Shirt, Black Jeans is nowhere to be found. Fuck. There’s not a single free table, so he doesn’t have the luxury of scrolling through his phone and waiting by his lonesome. No, he has to be buddy up with a stranger. One table is occupied by a brunette, but three open chairs surround her. He walks up, planning to politely asks but settling down. Before he can get a word out, he’s feels as if he’s already being rejected.

Daniel doesn’t say anything at first. Instead, he slowly drags the chair away the table. The legs rubbing against the floor creates unbearable sound which is almost lost because of the loud coffee shop. Lucky for him, she’s close enough to be serenaded. “I needed somewhere to sit,” Daniel explains as he plops into his seat.

After a few moments, Daniel adds insult to injury with, “Whatcha working on?”

Location: Outside Ollie’s

Open to: Everyone

Rosie was kicking herself, God how could she have been stupid enough to believe that it would have been a meeting with a family member that wasn’t going to end with her annoyed. She’d put so much effort into making herself look nice, she’d only ever heard rave reviews about the restaurant and how nice it was only for her nice dinner to be spoiled by her brother wanting to talk family business. Come home. Talk to Dad, talk to us. Give up that idea that you’ll be successful with your little drawings. That last part had really gotten her and without another word the brunette had stood, storming out of the restaurant.

Her heels clicking on the concrete as she walked she didn’t hear the person behind her, too absorbed in her thoughts. So when she felt a hand tap her shoulder Rosie jumped, turning around and snapping out a “What?!” Realising how she had sounded the woman took a breath, “I’m sorry. I’ve just not had the best night. Can I help you?”

Oh, Danny is familiar with the unkindness of strangers. Arguably, too well. Specifically, he knows how venomous a woman’s tongue could be. Hell, it leaked into his mother’s lullabies as an infant. When you’re not only innocent, but trying to do a nice thing, and you’re not one who normally does so, it’s annoying to be barked at, instead of thanked. Especially, before he can even get a breath out. 

The phone, screen shattered now from the apparent fall, sits on his palm, hand clamped around it for safekeeping. To be honest, Danny didn’t see her drop it directly . But she was the closest person standing nearby the scene. Also, the prettiest. So, when in doubt, he starts there.

His caterpillar brows furrow, eyes shrink, and he’s about to say something not so nice. Then, ah, there it is. An apology. That’s all it take for his expression to lighten, and if you look close enough, there’s a small smile emerging on his lips.

“I’m here to help you,” he clarifies, raising the phone up to eye level. “Drop something?”