something crazy

Galyn rolled his eyes at the individual who came over to his booth at the bar.  He was in no mood to socialize with anyone, especially not someone he didn’t deem worth his time.  Random drunk people at bars who planned on chatting him up were never worth it, unless of course he could get something out of it like money or a business deal.  “Maybe if you get me a drink I’ll consider talking to you.”

Hans threw up a hand jovially, eyes on the prize as they always had been, even when the modes and methods shifted. He’d heard the name and seen the face of Mor’du Industries, but he’d never seen an opportunity, had been too busy chasing other endeavors. “The man wants a drink, a drink he shall receive,” Hans agreed, voice cool though his drunken lightheartedness was plain to see. He waved down the bartender, passing a ten forward as a tip for incentive to be quick about it. “Your best akevitt, neat - two of those, and a...” he looked Galyn over, assessing. “A good scotch - Bunnahabhain if you’ve got it?” His voice raised in inquiry, but he was confident that he’d chosen well. “I trust your taste, and the akevitt is for celebration.”

Anna was getting a little restless. It was her first anniversary with Hans, something she valued more than he could ever know, but at the same time the fact that they have been engaged this long made her anxious. What if Hans was growing tired of her? What if he decided to just….break up? She couldn’t have that. She would fall apart. But she still had that doubt in the back of her mind, even as they were painting for their home. His smirk made her heart flutter and she tried to glance in the mirror to see what he meant but she was too short. “Yes please! It isn’t too big, is it?”

Hans tutted and shook his head, crossing the room to her and cupping her jaw with one hand. "Not too terrible, no. You're still a disaster, though." He moved to swipe up the stray paint with his thumb only for it to smudge and spread even further. He was sure it showed in his eyes, the slight panic he felt as he watched the little spot grow, and he glanced around the room for a cloth, for something to get it up before it dried. "Don't panic, okay?"

He looked a little relieved to be talking about it, and Marian wasn’t sure if she was the best person to get involved if the upcoming marriage itself wasn’t going so good. At the same time, maybe he just needed a few encouraging words and the jitters would go away instantly. “Weddings can do that. They make people act a little crazy sometimes from all of those reality tv shows I’ve happened to see. Which is a shame because I would love planning my own wedding….Not that I haven’t before in the first place.” She chuckled to herself. “What about it all has you on edge?”

Hans laughed at the mention of reality shows, the wild brides and grooms and the crazy antics. American television was in a league of its own, truly. But the thing was that Hans was almost ready for that, more so than he was ready for someone like Anna, someone who was genuine and fickle and wasn’t simply pleased by the longest price tag or the gaudiest linens. Hans had always thought that whoever he married would be like that, or perhaps like he’d imagined Elsa would be when he planned to court her - simple, elegant, following precedent to the letter. Anna was a force of nature, and nothing like what he’d prepared himself for. For the moment, he took to distracting himself with the pretty thing before him, asking with a calm smile, “What did you plan? When you went through with planning your own wedding, I mean? And, I suppose, what decision did you make on the linens?”

She at least expected Anna to be there. Not just an awkward meal between her and Hans. She shifted a bit in her seat and put on a smile as he walked to the table. “Hello, Hans, it’s nice to finally meet you,” she said politely, folding her hands in her lap. “Though, to be honest, I thought Anna would be joining us, too.”

@oftheboultingcasterly

Hans smiled at least politely, going for warm and probably ending up somewhere near stupid, the same naive place that he tended to end up around strangers, but it had worked so far, hadn’t it’? Seeming unassuming? He set on a goal of making sure that Elsa knew by the end of their apparently unsupported lunch date that he and Anna were a match made in heaven, to give her no logical reason to oppose, save for the obvious. He’d spent the morning fact checking himself. “I think she wanted to,” he supplied, eyes wide and earnest as he pulled out his chair clumsily, then stood again in a rush. “Oh, please forgive me.” he frowned, offering a hand to shake. “Elsa, it is such a pleasure to finally meet you. Properly, at least; I’m sure our paths have crossed.”

News about Anna tended to trickle in slowly when she didn’t tell him herself, and that was about the only reason her latest joke had gotten so far. Hans stormed into his apartment with tension in his brow, a clear frown in the set of his mouth, not even bothering to reset before shoving inside.

“Anna, care to explain?”

“It is not only a fun theme, but an easy one,” Fifi replied with a roll of her eyes. “At least you came prepared. i would have to scold you for being so basic if you even dared to come in suit and tie. Especially with the company you keep, monsieur.” She was no stranger to him or his fiance. She has seen them all over the tabloids. “Your future wife looks incredible though. She must really care about the arts.”

Hans smiled, always glad to be recognized, even if he wasn't the most comfortable in his chosen attire. He preferred, as a general rule, more subtle dress. His outfit, and the theme at large, was a bit ostentatious for his tastes, but he was always up for a good game, glad to be making appearances again. The company he kept - he wasn't sure what to make of that until she brought up Anna, and he supposed he understood. She never did anything halfway. "She's a creative spirit," he admitted, smiling bright. "And she does look lovely. As do you, dear. If I may ask, what is it that you do?"

“I don’t think everyone understood the theme here tonight,” Fifi said shaking her head before bringing her glass of wine to her lips. ‘it’s a shame. Everyone looks beautiful….just some look confused.”

“You’re telling me,” Hans muttered, looking across the sea of people and tutting under his breath. “Even if it was understated, some people completely ignored it. Conventional black tie?” He laughed, eyeing her glass of wine. He really did need a drink. “I think it may be some guests first, um. Special occasion,” he chuckled, waving over a waiter for a glass of champagne. “I can’t imagine being bold enough to completely disregard it. It’s a fun theme, as far as they go.”

Anna wanted everything to be perfect. She wanted their house to be like it was right out a dream. She wanted people to be jealous and to wish they were them. So she was being a little picky. And overcritical. And a lot in general. She was hardly focusing on Hans actually. She felt a little bad. She wished she was giving him more attention. She just wanted things to be perfect more than she wanted him to talk. Nothing wrong with that.

“Umm….this was the bathroom?” She honestly couldn’t remember anymore. “Is that okay? Have we really already seen these colors already? It feels like we haven’t. I dunno. Do you want to focus on a different room? Or take a break? Go home? Or I mean…back to your place?”

Hans sighed, softly first, more clearly towards the end as the exasperated noise reached a pointed finish. “The first floor bathroom, yes,” he murmured, trying to work out the tension in his neck by rolling it slightly. He’d wanted to go with a blue anyway, neutral and patriotic and classic, if they weren’t doing white. “Are you sure you don’t want to go with a neutral for the first floor of the house?” Hans placed a hand at the small of her back, soothing, guiding, murmured into her hair as he did his best to keep his cool.

“We should be thinking about how it’ll go together, how it flows for when we have company...” He did want to go home, above everything else he wanted to go home, but he wasn’t going to go home empty-handed again. “Should we just hire someone to do this? I don’t want you to lose your mind over trying to plan out this big a project.”

This was the fourth time this week that Hans and Anna had used to set aside hours, what felt like hours upon hours, to look at paint swatches and test pieces. When he’d initially spoken with Anna, offered to customize their space once they’d found it, she seemed as excited as he’d hoped, yes, but that was nothing in comparison to the actual execution, to actually making moves and seeking out the right shades for her. It wasn’t so much that she was indecisive, but Hans was indulgent, and now he’d been staring at purples for what felt eternities, with a deep, unshakable suspicion that they’d leave without even one of them at the end of their travels.

“Love we’ve seen those two already, we’ve had them mixed, even,” he frowned, looking at the small army of prepared sample cans that they’d have to bring back one way or another. “Where was it that you said this color would be going?”

“That seat is taken,” said Oogie not even bothering to look at the person that walked near the bar, eyeing the empty stool next to him. “And the other one is taken too. They’re all taken. Go sit somewhere else,” he said bitterly as he took a sip of his drink.

Hans blinked for a moment at the unabashed rudeness of the other man. He'd only come out for a few drinks and to get the hell out of his apartment for a short while, not to make friends, but that didn't mean he wasn't immediately irked by the way he was being spoken to. Boldly, he pulled out the barstool right beside the man anyway, not even bothering to acknowledge him out loud, and leaned back in the seat as he ordered his first shot, waiting for the other's response.

Vanessa chuckled. “Don’t be so jumpy. She isn’t here. At least I haven’t seen her and she is pretty hard to miss.” She smirked at him. “You’re right. I come here enough. And I know you don’t. But that’s alright, because you’ll fit right in as long as you stick with me.” She leaned forward a little bit. “Don’t worry, I don’t bite unless the moment arises.” She brought her drink to her lips. “By the looks of you though, I’m sure the moment will indeed arise.”

Hans bit his lip, thought about glancing around but was more than content to continue tracing the sharp outline of the woman’s jaw as she smirked, at the curve and tension of her painted lips. “As long as I stick with you?” he asked, preparing to counter but more than curious as to why she’d said that of all things. “Do you mean to say that I couldn’t handle myself here?” he teased, “or are you just looking for an excuse to dig a little deeper? I promise I’m an open book,” Hans winked. “We’ll have to see, won’t we? Do you bite when angry or do you just need a little provoking?”

Vanessa was close to going home. It wasn’t that she wasn’t enjoying the cocktail in front of her or anything like that. She was just bored. And bored never sat well with her. So when a certain handsome nobleman like Hans entered her line of vision she smirked. She had her sources, and those sources were saying he was engaged. And yet he was here. Talking to her.

How delicious.

“Sure,” she said, her voice low. She looked him up and down because she knew that would make him shiver. “What’s a man like you doing out here? Darling, this is far from your little redhead’s comfort zone.”

Perhaps it was the sense of distance that Hans had developed from interactions like this, conversations with direct women, women who didn't carry the shame or naivety that Anna did. Perhaps that was why he was so affected by Vanessa's dark gaze raking over him. Perhaps he had always been affected by women who were unabashed, who showed their interest with intent. Whatever it was, he swallowed at the look, took a drink with the mention of Anna and the knowledge that Vanessa had of him already.

"Do you see her here?" He joked, playing into her instead of against her. He wasn't sure he would win that fight, and he liked that uncertainty. "Just because it's out of hers doesn't mean it's out of mine, now does it?" His gaze fell to roll over her form before locking with her eyes once more. "You certainly seem at home."

It always started in a bar, or always seemed to anymore at the very least. Hans didn’t used to frequent them, had never seen the draw in most of them, but as he’d grown older and more jaded to some of the so-called finer things in life he began to appreciate the freedom of dim lighting and the looseness of a few drinks, and now, after a while in the city, familiar faces.

“Of all the bars in all the world,” he approached with a smirk when he noticed the dark-haired woman he’d come to be so intrigued by. “It’s certainly been a while, my dear. A drink on me?”

“Well, with the life I’ve had, it’s good to think I could instill a little fear in someone.” She sighed. “I am.”

Hans frowned, certainly curious now about just what that meant. "With the life you've had?" he reiterated, concern evident in his tone. "Dare I ask?"