“Sorry about your shirt.” with a pairing of your choosing? Please? I give sugar cookies in bribery :3 - cookie
Celine/William!
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The speakeasy-- nicknamed “Lucky’s” by local patrons, due to its incredulous ability to dodge police raids-- was packed to the gills; it was nearly impossible to slip through the people crowding the dance floor, and Celine found herself ducking elbows and legs and wine glasses as William guided her toward the bar, his hand, warm, tucked into the small of her back.
“Mark’ll be along, I’m sure,” he said easily, voice barely audible over the music and clamor. “His fans really seemed eager.”
Celine rolled her eyes. “The one fan who has ever wanted his autograph.”
That earned a chuckle. “Let ‘im have his fun.” Taking her hand, he helped her onto the stool, then settled onto one himself, spinning to face the bar and holding up a hand to signal the bartender.
It was barely a moment later that a man sank down onto the tool on Celine’s right side, his face flushed with alcohol and stretched into a big, sloppy smile. In his hands he held a drink, mostly full. It was obviously not his first.
“Hey doll,” he slurred, leaning into her. “How ‘bout a drink? On me.”
Celine felt William tense, but before he could say anything stupid she interjected, pursing her black-painted lips and purring, “how about you move along? I already have a date.”
“Don’t be like that,” the man complained. He reached for her hand, which she batted away, giving him a shove that sent him teetering back.
He scowled, entire face seeming to contort with anger. He held out his glass, tipping its contents onto her dress.
Celine gasped in outrage, instinctively jerking back, nearly colliding with William, who placed a hand on her arm to steady her before rising.
“That was not very nice,” he said, voice low as he came around, towering over the man. The medals pinned to his beige coat gleamed, and slowly the man’s eyes drifted down to them before traveling back up. “I think you should apologize.”
The man scoffed, spinning slowly to face him. “Why would I? She’s the one bein’ rude. I was jus’ offering a drink-”
William’s hand shot out and seized a handful of his overcoat, and with hardly any effort at all he dragged the man from his chair and off his feet, holding him so they were eye to eye.
“Apologize,” he ordered, “and leave this lovely lady alone. Otherwise you’ll find yourself in a very-” he tightened his grip, yanking him even higher off the ground- “uncomfortable place.”
“I-” the man stammered and spluttered, gaze darting from William to Celine to other bar patrons who were beginning to ogle. “I’m sorry!” He bit out. “I’m sorry about your dress.”
“Good.” William dropped him. “Now getcher sorry ass outta here.”
Eyes narrowed into a glare, the stranger spun and stumbled off, shoving his way through a crowd of dancers.
“What an ass.” William hovered over her, all his protective rage now melted into concern. “Would you like to leave?”
“I assure you I’m quite alright.” Celine plucked at the sodden material of her flapper dress, glad she’d chosen to wear black instead of red. “Let’s have a drink.”
“Bully.” William sat back down, lifting a hand to wave over the bartender once more.
As he did, Mark appeared, settling down onto the now-vacant stool on Celine’s other side, eyeing her soaked dress. “Did I miss anything?”
Celine snorted, and reached for the drink the bartender set in front of her. “Not at all.”
