#gamy

AMY: The club pulsed with colorful lights and synth music, she was two drinks in and feeling a slight tingle. Amy was set on enjoying her weekend after a long week of actually having to work. The prom demon storm debacle was pretty tightly sealed and no matter who she prodded and for how long, lips stayed closed. According to Belle, it was unethical to give details about a client to a reporter, but Amy called it a lack of familial loyalty.

Speaking of the lack of familial loyalty, Amy spied that tall, dark, and handsome bad boy that publicly embarrassed her cousin standing by the bar. She could easily blame the atmosphere and liquor if Marie said something about it, but Amy found herself moving towards him. The dainty blonde sidled up to him, Gem, and smiled. “I’ll have one of whatever you’re having… hi, I’m Amy.” She slid in with a wink.

GEM: Gem was also about two drinks and a whole joint in, with a pocketful of drugs looking for a new home for the night. He was standing at the bar, facing out towards the dance floor, leaning back, elbows up on the bartop. He clocked the blonde approaching before she got to his side.

He had no idea who the hell she was, which was nice, because everyone in this damn town was so familiar. She was forward too. Usually girls like this made Gem nervous, because they only wanted one thing but he was high and drunk, so he smiled back.

"Gem," he told her before twisting around and raising a hand to catch the attention of the bartender. "A whiskey sour for the lady and another for myself."

AMY: A nice strong drink. That was telling. Amy looked him up and down, sizing him up. Eyes were glassy and dark, contrasting her sharp, bright gaze. The lips printed all over his shirt lead her mind to wandering about what her lip print would look like on his skin. Red was totally his color.

“You’ve got good taste in drinks. Or are you just trying to impress me?” Amy drawled out flirtatiously, dragging her eyes up from the exposed skin of his neck back to those eyes.

GEM: Gem wiggled the drink already in his hand. "Sorry to disappoint. But, glad I'm impressive anyway." He smirked at her.

He'd noticed her assessing him. She was cute, a little intense. He could practically feel her vibrating from here--like a delicate little dog that people carried in purses.

"What's your usual poison?"

AMY: The woman rolled her eyes playfully at his smirk. “Old fashioneds. My mother always drank them and I thought she looked so distinguished.” Fruity drinks had a frivololity to them, Amy feared to be seen with them. Who’d take a girl with a Shirley Temple seriously?

“I find I like to be distinctive,” She said smartly, tilting her head up at him.

GEM: A girl with a mother who drank old fashioned? Gem's eyes trailed her up and down. She looked expensive in the way that rich girls always did. He wondered if she was the kind who liked to party, or if she was just interested in a bit of a flirting.

"Thought old fashioneds were pretty common," Gem told her to be contrarian. Even if he didn't know shit about old fashioneds, except that he'd heard about them before, which meant they were probably relatively well known.

Their drinks arrived and he handed hers to her and then clinked the glasses. "To distinction," he drolled and took a sip.

AMY: Amy picked up on the contrarian attitude. Just like all the boys at Cambridge, except they only had daddy’s money to back them up. Gem’s confidence stemmed from something else entirely. Amy was curious as to what that was. She eyed him with her silent inquiry alight in her face.

“To distinction.” She raised her glass to meet his. “And pretty much any top shelf whiskey beverage is standard with old money folks. Though, you don’t see a lot of women drinking them. Which is why I started to. It’s an asserting dominance thing.” She raised the glass to her lips and took a drink, not breaking eye contact. The burn was familiar. Amy hadn’t been lying. She practiced drinking whiskey, not making a face, finishing it off, until she eventually liked the smokey undertones and the subtle honey flavor.

GEM: "Oh, so it's a kink thing," Gem quipped without missing a beat, taking another sip of his drink, though he was smiling--a twinkle in his dark eyes.

He kind of liked how sharp she was. Gem liked to poke at people, test them. See how far he could push them before the inevitably stopped bothering. (It was a self-defense, self-fulfilling prophecy, Gem knew that.) But, she had a bite to her. He had a feeling she would be hard to shake. Or, at least, would dish it as good as she got it.

"That makes sense. You old money then?" he asked, leaning on the counter casually. She certainly seemed posh enough. "Or just trying to manifest?"

AMY: Amy let out a husky chuckle. “Something like that.”

She finished off her drink first, another power move. +Huh, maybe it was a kink thing.* It surely started with the hunger she had to prove herself to men that she was just as good, even when she was clearly twice as good… she was just born female. Maybe now she derived a sense of authority in these power plays. The blonde leaned closer, faces almost aligned as he had gotten closer to her level. “Old and new.”

“I think you can tell I’m not really the type to just let others do for me what I could do for myself. A little nepotism never hurt anyone, but you can’t ride on mummy’s coattails forever. My money is my own. I earned it.” It was important to Amy that she had her independence from her mother. Especially since their name had been tarnished with her actions, and it was true. Amy only had her paychecks to support herself. It wasn’t ideal, but she earned them.

GEM: She leaned in and she smelled sweet. Despite the sharp way she carried herself, she looked soft. Gem rarely allowed himself to really look, because the idea of touching another person filled him with anxiety.

But hey, he was drunk and high and his powers hadn't worked in days. He barely felt his fire now.

"Impressive," he told her, because that was clearly what she wanted to hear. "You should buy the next round then."

AMY: Amy puffed up at the praise, he ruffled her feathers in the best way. "That sounds fair."

She gave a small wave to the bartender, beckoning him to their end of the bar. With two fingers up in a V, Amy ordered, "Two old fashioneds, top shelf please." The blonde turned back, pleased with herself. "Let's see if we can get you a taste for the finer things."

GEM: Top shelf?

Despite now having plenty of money thanks to Roscoe and the drugs, Gem didn't splurge like that often. Which meant this girl was rich. Had she introduced herself? Gem couldn't remember honestly. The sides of his vision were blurry. He was feeling warm--but not from his fire.

She was gorgeous and smelled good and, for once in his life, Gem wasn't afraid.

"Who says I don't?" he tilted his head, moving a little closer. "I'm talking to you, aren't I?"

AMY: Amy was aware he was laying the flattery on thick. Maybe he was just hoping to score free drinks, but it was working. Amy learned very quickly in uni that the company of pretty people was worth a few bevs. She gave a smirk and narrowed her eyes at him.

"I see what you're doing. You know, flattery can get you anywhere. Anyone who says differently has too high of an opinion of themselves."

GEM: Gem chuckled and shrugged.

"You caught me." He raised his gloved hands in surrender. Then, he offered one to her. "Did the flattery win me a spin on the dance floor?"

AMY: Amy hadn't noticed the gloves before. Her discerning gaze flicked from the gloves to Gem's face and back as if she were trying to read him the same way she'd read Doyle or Dickinson. How curious, she thought, but a mystery for another time.

She took his hand, testing the composition of the glove under her skin. Shifting her attention back to Gem, "That and much more if you keep up the ruse."

GEM: This was still risky, but felt pretty lowkey. He could feel a bit of the fire still sleeping in his veins but he was a little high, a little drunk--relaxed. Or, he had been, until the girl--Amy, he reminded himself--took his hand. She squeezed his hand and he felt dizzy. Wasn't sure if that was the anxiety or the alcohol or the fact that a pretty girl had grabbed his hand and he couldn't remember the last time that one had done that.

His heart beat funny in his chest, but he ignored it. He was good enough at that. He squeezed Amy's hand back and then pulled her onto the dance floor. There were bodies all around them. He was still hyperaware of them, tensing each time that one bumped into him, but--nothing kept happening.

Gem pushed his hair back from his forehead and then slid his arm around Amy's waist, pulling her closer.

AMY: This boy seemed so... tense. Amy could fix that. She had a bad habit of finding the harshest undergrads and melting all that tension away. She had a reputation for it until she found Harrison. She could help Gem loosen up.

Amy leaned into his touch, pressing her body against his as she swayed. Exhaling, she lolled her head back exposing her perfumed neck to him. It was an open invitation, kiss me.

GEM: Amy pressed against him. She was a wisp of a thing, but the pressure of her body against his still felt like a mountain. He wasn't sure what to do, but she seemed unconcerned. His heart was racing, but his hands weren't warm. Even inside of his gloves.

The lights flashed over her pale skin--making it blue then green then red. He wanted to touch her. He didn't know if he should. If he could. But they were already here and he was drunk and impulse was not something that Gem had ever been known for controlling.

His hand moved to her shoulder, brushing away her hair and he dipped his head to kiss the soft, salty skin of her neck.

AMY: Amy moaned into his touch. Lolling her head to the side to give him more room. She hadn’t partied like this in years. Her first year of uni she got a rather cruel nickname for her escapades, but shortly after Harrison everyone seemed to forget she was fun.

She used to have so much fun. She didn’t forget her studies of course, that’s the whole reason she went to Cambridge. But Amy was excited to start having fun again. The family legacy was in shambles so there was none to uphold. All she had was herself now. Herself and a boy, kissing her neck.

She wanted to kiss him. Amy was never one to abstain from her wants. She leaned back and cupped his chiseled jaw with her hands, smashing her lips onto his.

GEM: A girl had never moaned for Gem before. He almost stopped what he was doing, jolted into confusion, but when she didn't pull away--that was probably good right? Gem kept sucking on her neck, so that when she pulled him up to kiss her, there was a little red mark left on the perfect pale skin.

She tasted good. Like whiskey and lip gloss. It made his head spin. His hands stayed gently on her waist, not wanting to touch her too much. His heart was pounding in his ears louder than the bass from the music.

It was a good thing she seemed to know what she was doing. What she wanted. He followed along, opening his lips when she pressed her tongue against the seal of them. Let her pull him closer, her hands on his face, his shoulders. His stomach clenched with all the heat, dizzy and a little nauseous. That was probably normal, right?

AMY: It was hot. He is hot, Amy thought, in a sexy way, but also a fire way. Of course, she’d heard of him and the portion of school he burnt to a crisp. A polarizing figure, Amy could get behind. She didn’t have to date clean cut boys with cleaner records anymore.

“Why don’t we get out of here?” She murmured and broke the kiss, breathlessly.

GEM: The kiss was an inferno. Gem was burning up and his heart was rapid fire beating. It was bad. He should pull away, but he didn't want to because Amy's hands were insistent and her mouth was warm and wet and Gem couldn't get enough of it. He forgot to breathe.

She pulled away and so did Gem--breath hard and slightly bewildered. His hands were burning in his gloves and he took a step back, trying to recover himself.

He wanted to take her up on her offer. Every part of him was warm, blood hot. But he couldn't--couldn't go home...

"Maybe next time," he told her with a wink and a roguish smile. "I don't put out on the first date."

AMY: Amy blinked in offense. Usually boys she kissed like that didn't say no to her. The Gabble girl did not like the word no unless it came from her lips. She refused to let him think that rejection slighted her in the most minuscule way.

"Oh, you consider this a date? How quaint." The pink clad blonde took half a step back, just enough to create a space between their heated bodies. Still breathing the same hot air, she said, "Your loss, darling."

She said it with her ego, even though it was wounded. Amy moved a hand to gently brush a curl from his face.

GEM: Ah, she was pissed.

Yeah, that was fair enough. He supposed it worked well enough for his image though. Turn a few birds down and the rest would flock. It had always worked that way. Even when he'd been in secondary. Not that he had much experience with the physical part of things but he knew how to use his looks. Or other people knew how to use them.

They assumed. He let them.

"Considering I am the one turning you down," he told her with a little shrug. "Not sure the feeling is mutual, darling."

AMY: Amy really hated how so many men could be so hot but so annoying. Couldn’t he just shut his pretty lips and take her home? He must be insecure.

That was it. He was insecure and would rather turn down the chance to sleep with her than embarrass himself.  She rolled her eyes, “I’m not sure what you mean? It’s not a feeling, it’s sex.”

GEM: Gem rolled his eyes right back.

"Look, it's not about you, if that helps," Gem said, holding up his hands in surrender. He didn't want to cause a scene...again. (Prom had been bad enough. And poor Gem didn't even have the context of knowing who this was.)

"I said I wasn't interested. Let's just leave it at that."

AMY: “Right.” That was all the confirmation she needed. He had a small dick and was scared to take a stranger home. Her eyes flicked down for a millisecond to glance. Still, it didn’t stop her from being annoyed that he stuck his tongue down her throat and then rejected her.

But Amy wanted to save face too. Drinking and making out with strangers at a club wouldn’t look good for her brand. Posh, educated ladies don’t have messy nights out. Except, she did. “Whatever, I guess you can’t account for taste.”