#rapidfire2

Meg knew how to drink. Dancing was another thing. 

Sure, once someone had enough booze in them they were almost unstoppable and Meg was no exception to that rule. Still, she doubted with the weekend coming up Farren and the others would be out for the typical scenes Meg indulged in as a student. After all, she wasn't a kid anymore. She was an adult doing adult things. "Adult things." she mumbled under her breath. Truth was, Meg was still trying to figure out what that meant. 

Keeping her usual brisk pace, Meg only slowed when she passed the bakery. The decadent smells filled the air and she could almost taste the sweet and sour apples in a crisp apple pie. She wasn't here for food, though, and instead hopped up the steps to Boutique. When she opened the door it was like walking into another world. Gowns of silk and sequins adorned the walls, gold and silver twinkling against the fabric. The shop smelled of roses and warm chatter bubbled all around her. Somehow, Meg felt out of place all the while feeling like she belonged. It didn't make much sense but then again, neither did Farren. She had a clever way of making people feel welcome in the strangest of places. 

Tuscany in December; though it seemed more warm that it should, Eden felt a chill run up her spine. She had barely been back home for a week and already she was worn thin with all the decisions upon her arrival. Her father's estate needed tending to, the house and land was to be sold to a family on the other side of their land who wished to expand their winery. Eden had no qualms with this, she told them to tear the house down and use all the land. She didn't care. There was no joy left in that home. The sale of the property left her mother and father's possessions in limbo; while Eden took a great deal of her father's office and living furniture and used it to furnish her new apartment, she had opted to dispose of and sell anything belonging to her mother. 

Except those letters.

The letters would remain in her chest of drawers, locked away in a small box. She would leave them there until she found someone she trusted, someone she could put her faith in... to find the men responsible for horrid acts from that night.

JAMES: A shirt, a painting and a closed door. That's all he was left with. James tried to reach Eve, but she wasn't at her place. She was gone. He didn't know where, but from what he heard from a neighbour- they just saw her walk into the elevator. Nothing more, nothing less. So, he took the shirt and painting, holding both items close to him. Oh..God, that painting was amazing. He really fucked things up, didn't he? James walked back down to his apartment, laying the items on his kitchen table as he slumped down onto the nearest chair. What the hell did he do? He made Eve cry, he broke her down. For what? What was he reason? Love. He did such an unforgivable act because deep know he knew he was falling for her. James couldn't handle that thought. Love terrified him, yet it was something he desired at the same time. But of course, he had to get her off his mind. He hooked up with someone else, and she caught him. Sighing, James shook his head. He had to do something. Right now. He had to fix things. But where would she be? Then he got an idea. Hawk. Hawk was Eve's best friend. He had to know where she was, or maybe, she was at the tattoo parlor with him. James ran, he rushed right out of the complex. Not even caring about taking his car- the traffic would be too much. Going by foot would be better, and nothing would stop him. Arriving at the parlor, James stepped inside. "Eve? Eve are you in here?" James looked around, no one was at the front desk. He took another step into the room, but then he heard something. Were those foot prints, or movement in the back room? "...Hello?"

EVE: Eve was at the airport, her body slumped in a plush chair as she waited for her connection to Paris. She'd never been to D.C. before but even though she was sitting in the Nation's capital, nothing mattered to her. Eyes closed, a small sigh escaping her lips. Eve was running. She always ran. It's what she did best. --First Class for flight 2305 to Paris, France may now begin boarding at Gate A6.-- Eve stood, putting her purse over her arm and tugging on her luggage, walking toward the plane.

HAWK: Hawk had gone to the Parlor, got everything set up and ready to work without Eve; he'd called the people who were supposed to work the following day and let them know Eve had a family emergency and needed to fly home, a lie but what did they care? He had informed them they would be taking her appointments unless the people wanted to reschedule. A small sigh escaped his lips as he hung up his phone from the last call and walked over to the shelf in his office, a picture of Eve holding up her Tattoo License in Paris; Hawk beside her. How had he let it get this far? How had he let her get so hurt? It was then he heard a sound, someone calling out in the silence. The voice was familiar, so much so it made his jaw tight and his head ache. /James/ He spun on his heels and bounded out to the man he'd once called friend; arm pulled back, the instant he was close enough Hawk let it fly, aiming right for James' face with a remarkable amount of force.

JAMES: James saw a shadow in the distance, someone moving over towards him. It was Hawk. An almost relieved smile appeared on his face until he noticed something. Hawk was angry. /Oh shit.../ He thought to himself, wanting to kick himself in the face. Of course he would be mad, Eve probably told him all about last night or at least, he saw her cry too. Who else would be the cause for all this shit? James was guilty, and he didn't need to kick himself. Hawk was gonna take care of that, well- not kick, but punch. /Bam./ The impact was fast, painful and with great amount of force. James' body stumbled forward, his head snapping to the side and he could hear his jaw click out, then back into place. Falling onto his knees, James raised his arms up, blocking his face. He knew Hawk was furious. He could tell just by the punch, but hey- the man had every right to be. James was a fuck up. It was like he was young again. Always being the fuck up, the stupid one, the no good bastard. James' body tensed up, just waiting for another fist to the face, or foot to the back.

EVE: Eve sighed, turning to look out the window at the Monuments around DC, her jaw clenching tightly as she closed the shade, she didn't want to look anymore. She didn't want to be in the country anymore.

HAWK: Hawk watched him stumble, he let him fall; there was no look of joy on his face as he hit him, Hawk hated violence of any kind, violence had stolen his father from him, had made people kill and hurt and he hated it but, this was Eve. This was his little Eve. A woman he'd never seen cry. James deserved so much more than a punch to the face but it was all Hawk had time for. He had a mission, he had something to do. Reaching into his back pocket he took out an envelope that held within it the boarding pass numbers for a one way ticket to Paris in James' name, along with traveler’s checks to get him by while he was in Paris. He didn't care if James had the money or not, he didn't have the time to worry about it and Hawk had more than enough to spare. On the envelope was a name, La Mardain de Lucie, Eve's favorite hotel in all of Paris. She knew the owners, had tattooed one of them, when she didn't have an apartment she had stayed there for weeks, when her apartment was being renovated she stayed there. It was her favorite place, she'd even go when she just needed some away time to paint. If she wasn't there, she wasn't in Paris. /You know where I'll be./ She'd said to him, which meant only one thing. She'd be with Amelia. “You,” he began, his voice cold, angry. “better fuckin' fix this. She's the best damn thing that's ever happened to you and you fucking know it. Get the fuck out of my sight before I stop controlling my anger and kick your fucking teeth in.” He tossed James the envelope and turned, walking toward the back room once more.

JAMES: When he didn't feel any impact, James slightly opened his eyes. He looked around for a moment, glancing up at Hawk. He was afraid. James was afraid at this very moment. Hawk could definitely kick his ass, no matter how much James knew about fighting back. Hawk just seemed like he could be an animal if he wasn't held back. So James just sat there on the ground, looking up. His hand rose, his fingers pressing into his cheek. A small wince escaped his lips. Yep- there was going to be a black eye there soon. He could feel it, and he could taste blood. Not a lot, but enough. The back of his hand wiped across his lips, pulling back only to see a small streak of blood. James licked his bottom lip, feeling the small slit that was left there. Breathing heavily, he was a bit shaken by Hawk's strong voice. James' jaw clenched, nodding along to what the man was saying. He took a hold of the envelope and stood up from the floor. James brushed himself off, peering inside of the paper. Was this..? No way...His head snapped back up, looking at the back of Hawk. So...Hawk did this? For him? But how did he- James didn't want to question it anymore. "Hawk.." He paused, knowing that the man before him probably wouldn't give a shit about what he had to say. "...I fucked up. You're right...Eve is the best thing that I've had in a long, long fucking time. But.." He stopped, looking down at the papers he held in his hands. "I'm gonna get my girl. Make things right..." Backing up slowly, James nodded, "Thanks, man." With that, he rushed out of the parlor, a small limp in his step. James then went to find the closest cab, which took him to the airport. He didn't give a shit about clothes or putting a suitcase together- he could buy stuff there if he needed it. James waited for his flight to arrive at the gate, jumped on and went off into the sky. Next stop- Paris.

EVE: Walking into the familiar walls of Amelia's hotel, Eve looked around at the cozy setting, the quaint make up of the tables, the small but secure feel of the walls around her. It'd only been about a year since she'd been back in Paris but one thing was true, she hadn't realized how much she'd missed it until every fiber of her being was fighting to get back to it. Inhaling deeply, she walked up to the desk, only to be hugged tightly from behind. Gasping, Eve turned around and looked at the small French woman holding her. Eve couldn't help but chuckle and wrap her arms around her. They exchanged greetings in French before the woman said she would show her to her room, the one she always went too, with a lovely view of the water. Amelia didn't need to ask, she knew enough about Eve not to ask when she suddenly needed a room; even though Eve's appearance worried her, hand bandaged, no make-up, exhausted. One time she'd asked Richard, only to find out that her ex had going almost homicidal when she denied him; there was a fear in the girl's eyes when she'd arrived... but not today. Today, there was a pain, a pain that Amelia could only describe as heartbreak. Someone had broken Eve's heart. Eve kissed Amelia's cheeks and closed the door behind her, dropping her things and walking to the open window, leaning against the sill, staring out at the water. How had she fallen so far?

JAMES: The plane ride seemed to take forever, maybe even longer than usual. James was no stranger to France. The trip over was so fresh in his mind, so feeling like it took even longer killed him a bit. Everything was so different now and he hated it. Yet once the plane landed, James knew where everything was, well- mostly everything. He had to find a cab, tell him what hotel he needed and then track Eve down. He was going to do this, James had to make this right again. Not only for himself, but for Eve, for the both of them. Getting out of the airport and finding a cab was no problem. It's just as they pulled into a main road, there was traffic. Of course, of course there had to be traffic on this one damn day. The day that James had to rush, or felt like he needed to rush. An hour or so had passed until the cab pulled up to La Mardain de Lucie. James looked at the building, one of which he was not familiar with at all. But nonetheless, he paid the cab driver and walked inside. The hotel was nice, very classy. James knew this was the one. Walking up to the front desk, James smiled. "Bonjour." He paused, taking a deep breath in and then asked if he would be able to speak to an Eve Westwick.

AMELIA: She was humming softly as she typed on her computer, setting up the evening's dining schedule for the following morning, so that she could send out an announcement to her guests. It wasn't until someone spoke to her that she looked up, a soft smile on her lips. His greeting was kind, though hurried, he asked to speak with … /Oh./ Amelia smiled gently and shook her head, opting to speak in English since the gentleman was clearly not French. “I'm sorry monsieur... Mademoiselle Westwick is not receiving visitors. You will have to get in touch with her some other way. I am sorry.” Amelia didn't know who the man was but, anyone who wasn't Hawk that came to her asking for Eve would be turned away, as it always was.

EVE: Eve sighed softly, it had turned dusk without her even realizing it; had she really stood, staring out the window, the entire afternoon? It was possible, even if it was pathetic. Shaking her head, Eve walked from the window; stripping out of her clothes, careful not to hurt her hand more than it already was. She could move her fingers but it hurt, her hand wasn't broken, thank God, but it definitely was cut up and bruised something awful. Walking into the bathroom she switched on the shower, piping hot, she needed to wash everything off of herself. She didn't care if it hurt. Stepping into the water Eve winced, resting her head against the tile, the hot water sliding down her body. Even with the mass of water, Eve could feel the weight of tears on her cheeks and the taste of salt in her mouth. Her unmarred hand came to rest on the tile, palm flat as she slowly slid down the shower and onto her knees, softly gasping for breath as tears streamed down her cheeks and hot water slid down her back.