Jean-Paul Gaultier Boutique [Archive]

Daroga

02-28-2008, 04:51 PM

Phoenix Mercer

It wasn't as though she never wore dresses. Phoenix actually wore shirts quite frequently, it was just ussually she only wore them to go out to the clubs, something to dance in and hope to land a partner. This dress however was a completely different beast. Her options from her own closet, at least the oversized backpack that consisted of her closet, were not what anyone would deem appropiate for a fancy evening out at some ritzy gala. Those dress were short cut, tight fitting, and had been packed expressly for the purpose of containing as little fabric as possible (thus reducing the bulk of her pack) and being wrinkle resistant. Still if she were being perfectly honest with herself she knew that she still would have felt no shame in wearing one of them to the event, if she even went, or perhaps even borrowing something from her roommate, but that was all before she had a date. It was funny the change that simple fact had evoked on her perception of the night. Before she had ignored the talk of the event, there was always way too much chatter going on backstage for her to pay attention to. She hadn't even decided if she was going to bother attending and had been contemplating between a quite night in her dorm catching up on the letters and postcards she had promised an infinite number of people she would send home, or going out and finding a different kind of party with a bit less protention and stuffy opera members and patrons.

Now she was standing outside Jean-Paul Gauliter's boutique and fighting back an overwhelming onslaught of butterflies wreaking havoc in her stomach. The storefront before her with its artist window dressings and air of superiority was making her feel smaller with each passing second as she played nervously with the cuffs sleeves of her shirt and adjusted the hem of the t-shirt she wore over it for the millionth time. People like her who spent most of their days happily covered in grease and dirt did not belong in a place like this. She could get cleaned up and dressed up as easily as the next person and had even started wearing this work gloves at work in an effort to actually have some semblance of fingernails when the night arrived. But she was sure that the extra time that she occasional spent on pampering herself would fall far short of what any woman in there spent on a daily basis. They threw money around as though it were water and would probably smell on her the instant she walked in that she was nowhere near that league. She swallowed the lump in her throat and shook her head firmly. "No!" she said aloud to herself, "you are not going to psych yourself out of this." She took a deep breath and pulled the plastic card her date had given her out of her pocket one more time still in slight disbelief that he had trusted her with it. Possibly because he'd known how terrified she was to actually use it. But there was something comforting about it. It was like her golden ticket to Charlie's candy factory. They couldn't deny her entrance because she had money, someone else's money but spendable nonetheless. Taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders she reassured herself that she could do this, and she would give her date a piece of her mind later for putting her through this. Imagining that was more comforting than any other thought as she pushed open the door and tread with trepidation through.

"Bienvenue madame," a voice from nowehere said with the distinct tones of disdain that Phoenix was begining to associate with all French salespeople as soon as she walked through the door and she spun suddenly in spot to face a saleswomen who was giving her attire an appraisign glance full of condescion. "Comment puis-je vous aider?" she said before looking at her expectantly as though awaiting an appropiate explanation for just what in the world she thought she was doing there. "I need a dress," Phoenix said hasitly, resisting the urge to whip the card before her like a sword to fend off the woman's ill opinion. "It's for the gala at Opera Garnier," she said trying to muster courage she didn't feel as her eyes wandered to some fo the incredibly austentaious clothes the manequins donned. Surely she wasn't going to be expect to wear something like that. "And what is the dress code?" the woman asked pulling her attention back with the fact that she apparently, thankfully, spoke English. In response to Phoenix's blank stare, who had only ever associated dress codes with school uniforms she replied, with a small roll of her eyes, "How formal is the event?" Phoenix's jaw went slack for a moment as she replied in a stunned tone that completely ignored the fact the woman was speaking to her as those she were three years old, "You mean there's more than one kind of formal?!"

Raoul de Chagny

03-02-2008, 09:16 AM

Ubaldo Piangi

03-02-2008, 05:54 PM

Frederick Worthington

Frederick had decided that particular day that he would walk to the upscale district of Paris along La Rue de Rivoli, rather than travel by limousine, as it was mere blocks from the street on which one could find the building where he had his posh fourth-floor walkup apartment. His choice of suits was also different: instead of a Victorian suit, the young English gentleman was wearing a gray suit with thin black pinstripes, as well as a solid gray fedora that featured a black silk band around the crown. A pressed white dress shirt, solid black silk vest, and gray silk tie were beneath the jacket, and inside the liner pocket of the jacket was Frederick's Louis Vuitton billfold wallet; black dress shoes covered his feet, and black leather gloves fit over his elegant hands as was his custom. To finish off the ensemble, he wore a gray Inverness cape--that had just been sent to him recently by his acquaintance back in England--which was fitted like a long coat, but with no sleeves so that the arms of his jacket slipped through the shoulders and were covered by the finger-length cape layered over it.

I do hope they have that overcoat from the Prêt à Porter spring and summer show is a piece that is sold in Monsieur Gaultier's boutique. Although it was worn by a model in a men's swimsuit, it is quite handsome on its own; perhaps it will work well worn over a period uniform I might order in the future. Just the thought of wrapping the long, silky royal-blue overcoat around himself over a uniform, such as that of a naval officer, would be the perfect finishing touch, so he thought. Its satiny sheen, the way the material fluttered, was almost like a cape and it was something the opera singer would not mind adding to his outerwear wardrobe. The handsome English tenor was in a mental ecstasy, so deep in thought, that he did not realize that he just about walked into a woman walking her dog. "Oh! Je suis désolé! Pardonnez-moi, madame." Both he and the woman seemed shocked to come upon one another so quickly, yet Frederick smoothly stepped aside and gestured; at first she seemed annoyed, but upon glancing at the chiseled face, set with piercing grey eyes and featuring a strong, manly jaw, her eyes grew wide. As she walked away, she covered her mouth, hiding the fact that it had dropped open at the fact that she had nearly bumped into the most famous opera tenor in Paris. The British gentleman merely smiled slightly, then touched the brim of his fedora and bowed his head in the direction of the woman's retreating form before continuing on his way to the Jean-Paul Gaultier boutique. After strolling down the street a ways, he came upon the window displays of the boutique store, with the name of the designer in large letters set on the overhang.

Aha! Here it is, and now, for me to make my entrance. Frederick pushed open one of the doors and stepped into the store, removing the fedora from his head as he did so. He was about to find a sales associate when his keen ears picked up a conversation being held not too far from him.

"Bienvenue madame." A woman's voice was speaking, very thinly veiling the disgust and contempt it contained. Apparently, as the dark-haired young man turned his gaze sidelong, one sales associate had encountered a woman who was wearing a long-sleeved top layered over with a short-sleeved tee. It was obvious to him that the woman who worked in the boutique was talking to the stranger as if she was a penniless orphan, wearing nothing but rags, who had just come in off the street and was dirtying the floor. "Comment puis-je vous aider?" Now it was the other young lady's turn to speak.

"I need a dress." This unknown woman spoke hastily, doing her best not to appear flustered. It was either because the sales associate had spoken French to her, that the other lady was talking down to her as though the woman in the layered shirts was a three-year-old, or both. "It's for the gala at the Opera Garnier." Frederick had inferred from her first statement, about requesting a dress, that it was for the upcoming Anniversary Gala event, held annually at the opera house since its reopening. He had no need for a tuxedo from Jean-Paul Gaultier, as he had already decided to wear his black Victorian tuxedo with a swallowtail coat, yet he felt that this young woman was going to need some help getting the gown she desired.

"And what is the dress code?" The sales associate was very quickly growing tired of dealing with the less-than-fashionable female standing before her. As such, she gave a roll of her eyes when met with a blank stare in response to her question; she tried wording her query a different way, hoping that perhaps the other woman would catch on to what she was saying. "How formal is the event?"

"You mean there's more than one kind of formal?!" At this point, before the sales associate had the opportunity to turn and walk away in disgust, Frederick stepped in. He strode over, the heels of his dress shoes clicking on the tile floor as he appeared in a sweep of gray and black.

"Begging your pardon, madam. If you will allow me, I shall take care of this," he said in a low voice, leaning a bit towards the woman in the long-sleeved shirt with the tee layered over it. The gentleman then turned to the sales associate, his face serious as he stared down his nose at the self-important woman. "The dress code is black-tie, so of course nothing but sharp black tuxedoes for men and the women, obviously, must wear elegant gowns.

"Therefore, I suggest you help the young lady with what she has requested. Je me demande seulement comment vous gérez pour permettre ces vêtements par Monsieur Gaultier, madame, exactement vous n'êtes pas assez payé pour pouvoir même acheter un veston de tromp l'oeil d'un de ces étagères." Frederick arched an eyebrow as his unwavering gaze was fixed on the sales associate; inwardly he was pleased as the woman attempted to keep from squirming uncomfortably in front of other employees, as well as customers who had come to shop there. A small smirk turned up one corner of his mouth as his right arm flipped the cape covering his jacket sleeves over his shoulder and he placed his hand on his waist.

"You do look rather well-off, monsieur, but you are not my employer, are you? Monsieur Gaultier is the one who pays me, and he pays very well. Who are you to criticize me for asking a few simple questions of the young lady?" The smirk disappeared as the tenor's nostrils flared slightly and his eyebrows lowered; without a word he produced the classic monogram billfold wallet from his suit jacket's liner pocket, opened it, and pulled out a card that he then presented to the sales associate. She took it, looked at the name, and immediately feigned an apologetic attitude. "Mon Dieu! Monsieur Worthington, I am so very sorry for my rudeness. Allow me to help the, ah, young lady with you there in finding her a gown that will suit her." The self-satisfied smugness returned to Frederick's face in the form of that slight smirk as he took back the card that he had received as his invite to the Anniversary Gala.

"See that you do, madame. I have actually come for a clothing piece that I had seen in one of Monsieur Gaultier's runway shows, thus I shall be here for at least a short while," the opera singer replied with a slight toss of his head and a haughtiness that came naturally to people like him who were blessed enough to be wealthy, high-born, and influential. And as he was descended from very old money, he felt quite justified in letting others know just how important a person he was. "Et ne supposez pas que je ne vous regarderai pas." He punctuated this by folding his strong arms over his muscular chest, his left hand bringing the Inverness cape more closely around himself as he towered over the shorter sales associate.

Daroga

03-03-2008, 01:21 AM

Phoenix Mercer

If looks could kill Phoenix felt certain that with the look the saleswoman gave her in response to her question she would cease to exist. She generally faced such insulting behavior with her own moxy but the fact she already felt as though she stood out as a savage in the posh store made her more or less tempted to turn on her heel and walk out. Maybe her room mate would have something that would work and she would let her borrow. Nothing was worth being treated like this. Well... he was kind of worth it, though she was still not quite ready to admit that openly to his face. But there had to be other places to find something suitable. "Nevermind--" she started to mumble an apology before her vision was suddenly and temporarily filled with gray fabric as a man swept in front of her. Lovely, the staff treated her as she didn't deserve to be here and the clientèle as though she physically wasn't. "Begging your pardon, madam. If you will allow me, I shall take care of this," the man said leaning down to her slightly and she was momentarily taken aback that he was not only speaking to her but asking to speak on her behalf. "Erm... sure..." she muttered quietly still surprised at someone going out of their way to show her the sudden and unexpected kindness.

"The dress code is black-tie, so of course nothing but sharp black tuxedos for men and the women, obviously, must wear elegant gowns." She blinked for a second wondering how her white knight knew so well what the gala was to be like and craned her neck to see his face directed towards the sales woman. Her eyes went wide and she felt herself slink back a half step. "Therefore, I suggest you help the young lady with what she has requested. Je me demande seulement comment vous gérez pour permettre ces vêtements par Monsieur Gaultier, madame, exactement vous n'êtes pas assez payé pour pouvoir même acheter un veston de tromp l'oeil d'un de ces étagères." Of course Phoenix recognized him. His face was on more than a few promotional flyer's and such that littered the backstage closets not to mention that she had seen him more than a few times practicing on stage as she had worked overhead. But she would never expect a renowned opera star to speak up for someone like her.

As a matter of fact she had always heard, in that magical way that she heard anything and everything, from the near constant backstage gossip, that he was rather full of himself. Those at the bottom of the social ladder, as most of her colleagues were, often looked at those on the upper echelons with disdain. The same disdain they turned around and accused the social elite of looking at them with. It was a never ending cycle of mutual dislike. And the general buzz had always been that this man before her was one of the worst offenders. Simple equation, the more elite they were the more pretentious they were presumed to be. But she couldn't help but feel ashamed at having ever listened, even passingly, to the things that had been said as in one simple gesture the famous star was disproving all of the harsh things that had been said about him.

"You do look rather well-off, monsieur, but you are not my employer, are you? Monsieur Gaultier is the one who pays me, and he pays very well. Who are you to criticize me for asking a few simple questions of the young lady?" Phoenix's gaze darted between the woman and the tenor as the former obviously didn't realize what she did. And from the look forming on Mr. Worthington's face she would soon come to regret that mistake. Phoenix bit her lower lip lightly trying not to enjoy what was soon to be the other woman's misery too much. She couldn't feel too much sympathy for her as a billfold was produced from under the man's cloak, she had been rather disgusting herself and was really only getting what she deserved. He handed her a card and Phoenix waited patiently for the inevitable moment of realization, unable to keep a small smug smile from her own face. "Mon Dieu!" she exclaimed. There it was. And it was just as satisfying as Phoenix imagined it would be. [i]"Monsieur Worthington, I am so very sorry for my rudeness. Allow me to help the, ah, young lady with you there in finding her a gown that will suit her." Phoenix was tempted for a brief moment to correct her that they weren't actually together but let it slide as that presumption seemed to be working out in her favor.

"See that you do, [I]madame. I have actually come for a clothing piece that I had seen in one of Monsieur Gaultier's runway shows, thus I shall be here for at least a short while," he said with a haughty gesture that forced Phoenix to surpress a small giggle as she tried to maintain a small portion of the aloof attitude to the rude woman that he had. Okay... maybe there was a little bit of truth to some of the rumors, but that didn't make her any less thankful for his sudden appearance. "Et ne supposez pas que je ne vous regarderai pas," he said and though she didn't understand a word of it the tone was easily recognizable as one that dared to be defied, punctuated as he crossed his arms across his chest. For a moment the flustered salesclerk looked between the two of them as though uncertain of which one she should address but finally decided, probably because he was the more intimidating to speak to him. "I'll go and pull some selections for the young lady to choose from?" she said questioningly as though asking permission to take her leave of them before scurrying away.

Phoenix breathed a silent sigh of relief as she watched her go, more than a little glad to be free of her. "Thank you," she said earnestly stepping forward into the space the woman had vacated and pointedly turning her back on the direction she had vanished in. "You didn't have to Mr. Worthington..." she said as she beamed up at him oddly struck by how tall he was. He had always looked so small from the catwalks, but then again everyone did. After a moment she smiled amusedly remembering the look on the woman's face, "But I really appreciate that you did. Clearly backstage isn't the only place where people don't want to take me seriously," she said with a gentle shrug before extending a hand to him, checking it slyly to be sure that it was clean. Obviously she had cleaned up throughly before leaving the Opera House but she could only imagine how embarrassed she would be to offer a dignified man like himself a grubby paw. "The name's Phoenix Mercer," she chirped, "I've seen you around the Opera House. I'm a stagehand," she explained quickly before he thought she was a stalker or some other form of weirdo, "And I really can't thank you enough for your kindness."

Christine Daaé

03-03-2008, 04:16 AM

Aurèlien Renard

Aurèlien casually walked by the many racks of clothing that were on display in the boutique store. Not a very fashion aware man, he only took note what he liked or didn't like. None of this whats in fashion at the moment. Though this season's collection was very dark, with leather and black clothing. Not that he was complaining, as long as the store still stocked a nice looking white shirt and some black pants and he would be content.

Browsing through the racks, the Opera Manager stopped to examine a leather jacket when something else caught his eye. Looking away from the clothes, Aurèlien spotted a familiar face. The familiar black hair and pale pretty face, though her looks were deceiving as her personality was nothing sweet. Adeline Devereux, the Opera House's leading soprano and Aurèlien's former muse. There was a weak moment in his past when he was delirious and gave the stupid woman his mother's ring. Then she refused to give it back, even if it was the only thing he had left to remember his now dead mother. *****. It was the first word that came to mind as he now stood beside the clothing racks, watching Adeline casually peruse the wares. It was like she knew he was watching her, and she didn't care. She wanted his attention, she wanted to rile him up, make him look like a fool in front of everyone if he made a scene here. Well she was the one who was going to look like the fool.

Aurèlien turned back to clothing racks and pretended to hold some interest in the clothes on display. At the same time he began approaching Adeline, though trying to make it appear as if he hadn't seen her until he was literally standing next to the woman. "Oh." He pretended to be surprised to see her, stepping away a little before he nearly bumped into her. "I didn't see you there. How are you, Adeline?" he asked, trying to be friendly, though his tone was clearly sarcastic. "Long time, no see. I heard that you're getting married?"

Adeline Devereux

Aurélien was soon coming Adeline's way. Great, she thought sarcastically as she rolled her eyes. She could see right through him as he pretended to nearly bump into her. "Oh. I didn't see you there. How are you, Adeline? Long time, no see. I heard that you're getting married?" It took all the soprano's strength to pull her hand back once she had turned and nearly raised it to the cocky opera manager's face. Taking a deep breath, however, her gaze was like a dagger to his skull as she looked him in the eye, willing herself to not cause a scene and possibly lose her current contract at the Populaire.

"You heartless *******," she said to him, quietly but dangerously. "Have you no decency? How can you ask me something like that, you arrogant son of a *****?" Turning back to the clothing she was formerly perusing, she told him just as callously, "I suppose you came over for a reason, rather than to tease me needlessly about my fiancé's death."

With a smirk, she asked, "Perhaps you wished to speak about that contract the Metropolitan offered me? Or perhaps the one from Covent Garden? How about the one from La Scala, or the San Francisco Opera, even? That one looks interesting -- they want a soprano to play Lucia . . ."

Now she was the one teasing him, and hardly emptily; she knew very well that all these offers were a sensitive topic for the other managers, as they did not want to lose one of their biggest box-office draws. People were coming from all corners of the earth to see Adeline these days, and surely Aurélien knew that.

Raoul de Chagny

03-04-2008, 03:50 AM

Aurèlien Renard

As the Opera Manager carefully approached the soprano, he could see that she knew he was coming towards her. Though she didn't say anything or do anything to stop him. Aurèlien gave Adeline a peacemaking smile as he tried to strike up a conversation with her. It was a completely harmless question that he asked, for he knew nearly everything that went on in the Opera House. Those gossipy ballerina's were worth their weight in gold with all the dirt they could dig up about people. However, Adeline had daggers shooting from her eyes with how intensely she stared at him, showing her hatred of him. Aurèlien reacted with a confused expression on his handsome face, not knowing what he did now to deserve this rude behaviour to an innocent gesture. Was she still holding a grudge against him after all these years? How immature.

"You heartless *******," she said quietly, yet dangerously. "Have you no decency? How can you ask me something like that, you arrogant son of a *****?" Adeline turned back to the clothing she was formerly perusing, while still taking the opportunity to spit venom at him for no apparent reason at all. "I suppose you came over for a reason, rather than to tease me needlessly about my fiancé's death." Aurèlien looked at the soprano a little confused. "What, he died again?" he asked rather mockingly. The gossips had said that the guy who apparently died last year had returned, a miracle it would seem. Unless Adeline had been living under a rock it would be a no brainer that she would be the first to know about her fiance's return, hell, all of the Opera House knew. No one can keep secrets in that building.

"Perhaps you wished to speak about that contract the Metropolitan offered me? Or perhaps the one from Covent Garden? How about the one from La Scala, or the San Francisco Opera, even? That one looks interesting -- they want a soprano to play Lucia . . ." Changing the subject, Adeline was now boasting about the job offerings she had received from other institutions. It wasn't a subject that Aurèlien cared about in all honesty. If she was trying to make him angry it was failing, she was making sarcastic exchange this a lot of fun though. "I read about the Covent Garden offer, it looked very promising." He nodded, looking thoughtful. "Nice pay rise, maybe you should go for that one." He gave Adeline a bemused smirk, showing her that he wasn't going to fall victim to her tricks.

"You think you can threaten me, Adeline?" He asked, his voice now laced with its own venom. "Since you've been living in your own self-obsessed bubble, you probably haven't noticed that we have a truckload of new sopranos, with more applying to work here everyday. Some with real talent like, let's see..." He crossed his arms over his chest and appeared to be thinking hard. "There's Isabella Delancy, a chorus girl at the moment but I think there's a lead role for her in the next production. And there's Sadie Callaghan, Ember Slight...so many that could easily take your place and do a better job!" This would surely ruffle Adeline's feathers, since the woman thought very highly of herself, almost as highly as Frederick Worthington. Both of them think the sun shines out of their rear ends.

Christine Daaé

03-04-2008, 05:22 AM

Adeline Devereux

"I read about the Covent Garden offer, it looked very promising. Nice pay rise, maybe you should go for that one. You think you can threaten me, Adeline? Since you've been living in your own self-obsessed bubble, you probably haven't noticed that we have a truckload of new sopranos, with more applying to work here everyday. Some with real talent like, let's see...There's Isabella Delancy, a chorus girl at the moment but I think there's a lead role for her in the next production. And there's Sadie Callaghan, Ember Slight...so many that could easily take your place and do a better job!"

Adeline could not help but stare at him, and eventually start laughing her head off. Aurélien was so funny, the way he liked to try to belittle her. "How mature, Aurélien, my dear! Pretending I'm the diva and the liar of the two of us! You're full of hot air, that's all. I'm not denying that Isabella and Ember are talented; I know the both of them personally. But to say that Isabella has a major role in the next production is something I know to be a lie, since my contract -- you know, the one you begrudgingly delivered to me yourself? -- states that I am to lead all the new season. If you have any doubts, I encourage you to ask the other three managers of the opera."

Highlighting the fact that Aurélien was not, in fact, the only manager would certainly make him seethe; and to be honest, Adeline enjoyed somewhat getting a rise out of him. It was terribly immature of her, she knew; but at this point, who would care? "As for Sadie Callaghan," she continued, "she's a good match for you, it seems. Far more . . . what's the word . . . sensible that Rozaliya was, though even more full of herself, it seems. I, personally, didn't think your two egos would collide very well, but it appears they mesh perfectly, from what I hear."

Getting one last jab in, she said, "As for my talent . . . you're entitled to your opinion, certainly. Talent is a subjective thing, I find. Just know that the other managers, every critic who has ever heard me, and everyone else I've ever talked to disagrees with you. I wouldn't still be here, and the management wouldn't be fighting so hard to keep me if I had no talent. It's not as if my pay hasen't risen significantly over the past two years, since I debuted in your opera and you picked me for one of the leading roles." She smirked. "You didn't think me so talentless then, now, did you? Answer me honestly, Aurélien."

She would not have him forget that he was the one who launched her career. In a way, she supposed she owed him her gratitude for that. Still, she owed him absolutely nothing else. The poor creature . . . she thought she must feel sorry for him, the way he seemed completely incapable of progressing as a human being.

Erik

03-07-2008, 09:28 AM

OOC: For the sake of drama, this isn't when Adeline is here. BIC:

Luc Danier

Luc took a deep breath before he pulled open the door to Jean-Paul Gaultier's Boutique. He was boldly going where to the best of his knowledge no man in his family had ever been before; dress shopping with a woman. He had never experienced the ordeal, though he had heard horror stories of having to hold the woman's purse while sitting on an uncomfortable chair and waiting fifteen minutes for her to try on each dress before emerging and expecting a different comment for each. And, of course, the woman had to try on everything the store carried so that they could see. Also, if the response was negative the woman might demand why, a specific reason. Did you not like the style? Did you not like the colour? Does she have poor taste, then? Does he think like her ex-husband and wishes she would lose a few pounds? Of course, all of this knowledge came from unreliable sources, the men he worked with, but it was enough to make him need to steady himself before walking into the boutique. "No. You said you'd meet her. It's your funeral," he told himself, and stepped inside of the haughty shop.

"I've seen you around the Opera House. I'm a stagehand," Luc heard Phoenix's voice say. "And I really can't thank you enough for your kindness." Luc found his date to the Anniversary Gala chatting with none other than star tenor Mr. Frederick Worthington, a slightly overconfident man with a heart of gold if you looked past what a lot of people saw as an over inflated head. It was easy to make that mistake; Worthington was one of the Opera Populaire's most valuable preformers, had enough money to burn to give heat to the homeless in Paris for the rest of their lives, and was very proud of himself and his accomplishments. But Luc Danier had known Frederick when he was lovestruck by Adeline and desperate to impress her. Frederick had seen the flame of a young love in his eye and suited him up with the proper attire to woo a woman of class, before he himself had found he had enough money to buy all the clothes he needed. Frederick had even bought him a cape, and had shown him how to use it appropriately, something he looked back on fondly, not because he loved capes (as he had in all actuality felt quite silly afterwards) but because Frederick had taken his time to make sure Luc had a chance to be happy with Adeline despite never having met him before. These were the things that people did not see before they judged the opera preformer.

Given his fondness for Frederick's compassion to do good for others, Luc would have ordinarily been content with running into his old friend, but today was a different situation and a different time. He was a different person. He had let everyone believe he was dead and had come back without a word to anyone with the exception of his brother Jean Sauveur, and was meeting a rather pretty girl to buy her a dress so that she could be his date for the Gala. And she was not the same girl whom Frederick had played a starring role in getting him together with. She was not Adeline Devereux, his fiancé, and he desperately hoped that the shock of seeing a walking talking Luc Danier would be enough to distract Frederick from that fact.

But he couldn't turn away now, as much as he would have liked to. He couldn't run to the safety of backstage, of the dungeons, of the catwalk, or any of the other places in the opera house he knew like the back of his hand. It would have been impossible for them not to have noticed his entrance into the boutique, and he was trying his best not to seem terrified that Frederick was a part of his recent past who could make things very awkward for him and his date. "Phoenix," he said in greeting, giving her a mild peck on the cheek so as not to make Frederick uncomfortable. He looked at Frederick and said, with a small smile, "Frederick... it's good to see you again." He wasn't sure what else to say, and while on the outside he was as steady as a rock, inside he was quivering with nerves. "I missed you," he lied, as the only people he had truely missed while he was away were Adeline, Isabella, and Jean. He saw, in his urgent need for distraction, a saleswoman hanging dozens of outfits onto a single tall, steel clothes rack. He saw that they were the only ones in the store and realized, much to his horror, that all of those dresses were for Phoenix. So it was true! They did have to try on everything in the store! He began trying to mentally prepare himself to ignore the fact that after dress number three his rear end would be falling asleep and there was going to be nothing he could do about it.

Ubaldo Piangi

03-09-2008, 06:05 AM

Frederick Worthington

"I'll go and pull some selections for the young lady to choose from?" The sales associate uttered the statement in a questioning tone of voice, as though asking permission from her father to help the young woman whom she had all but humiliated just moments prior. However, without waiting for a response from Frederick, she hurried away to fetch some of the fine gowns that were hanging on the racks in the boutique. The opera tenor stood proudly as the female employee scurried off, his strong arms still folded over his muscular chest, enhancing it further. The fact that the sales associate had recognized his name and knew with whom she was dealing made him even more glad that, despite usually preferring to be treated like any normal person, he still knew how to use his celebrity to his advantage.

"Thank you. You didn't have to, Mr. Worthington..." The pretty brunette woman now occupied the space where the boutique employee had been standing just a short time before, and she beamed up at the tall, dark, and handsome gentleman. Frederick brought his gaze downward a bit, at the same time unfolding his arms and clasping them at the small of his back; the smile on the young lady's face brought one to his own lips, making him feel pleased that he was able to assist her in getting what she needed, which was a gown for the upcoming Anniversary Gala. "But I really appreciate that you did. Clearly backstage isn't the only place where people don't want to take me seriously." She gave a slight shrug, as if telling the young man there was nothing anyone could do about it yet she would live with it anyway. Then, the lady extended her hand to Frederick, who grasped it gently before bowing over it and giving it a quick, feather-light kiss.

"It is no trouble at all, mademoiselle. It is the duty of a gentleman to rescue a lady from precarious situations of any kind, and I would have hated to see you embarrassed by a tongue-lashing from a plebian disguised as an expert of haut couture," he replied as her hand was lowered and released from his own elegant gloved one. "And why should you not be taken seriously by others? I do not see you as someone who is meaningless, especially if you are a member of the stage crew. They are one of the most important parts of a performance; set and lighting changes do not happen without that team of people." There was then an introduction from the young woman as she finally gave her name.

"The name's Phoenix Mercer. I've seen you around the Opera House. I'm a stagehand." Frederick had surmised she was, since she had mentioned being backstage, and that was where many things happened behind the scenes to bring an opera performance to life. Phoenix's occupation was stated rather quickly, though, as if it were an addendum so that the tenor would not think of her as a stalker-ish fan of some kind, but he smiled as he placed his hands behind his back once more. The Englishman thought that, whatever role a person played in the opera house, it was vital to keeping things running smoothly. "And I really can't thank you enough for your kindness." He chuckled lightly, gently waving it off, when suddenly another presence was made known to him.

"Phoenix." The voice was not familiar at first, but Frederick looked down slightly to see a young man giving the female stagehand a peck on the cheek before turning to look at the opera singer. The next words out of the fellow's mouth nearly knocked the British singer off his feet, though it was the face that clicked first with him. "Frederick...it's good to see you again. I missed you." Frederick's piercing grey eyes went wide as ping-pong balls as he swiftly stepped backwards, away from what was apparently a specter to him.

"I say! Sir Luc?! But...how are you alive?! Have you come back from the grave to haunt me for purchasing all that clothing for you, then dressing you up only to be rejected by Miss Adeline?" Frederick wanted to be as far away from what he thought was the ghost of Luc Danier, a young fellow who was once down on his luck but found himself falling hard for Adeline Devereux, the famous soprano; when things seemed darkest, however, the wealthy opera tenor appeared and, like Superman, broke the chains that held Luc down. He had taken the young man into the city, purchased him clothing from a fine gentleman's shop, and even taught him to wear a cape the proper way. Yet, despite all the help he had provided--the finishing touch being Katarina teaching Luc how to dance--the lady he loved had found she could not be in love with him. "If this is the reason you have come back, I beg of you, have pity on me! I only wished to help you win the lady you loved! I am ever so sorry she rejected you, I could not have known it! Please, please do not hurt me!" Frederick backed himself against a wall, his arms hugging his muscular torso protectively with his hands wrapping the grey Inverness cape around himself. He squeezed his eyes shut, bit his lip hard...and waited.

Daroga

03-10-2008, 12:41 AM

Phoenix Mercer

Very few of the options open to Phoenix on the many career paths before her came with any kind of recognition beyond others in that particular field. Yet she had quickly discovered that being a stage hand at a famous opera house was still one of the more thankless professions out there, not that she wasn't enjoying it throughly. So to have her work complimented by one of the stars was more than a bit flattering. And perhaps it was pride that kept her from objecting to the way he lavished her with praise for the stagehands work. But there was nothing she could see wrong with being proud of what one did.

As he dismissed her thanks she considered paying him a compliment on his work in return when the door opened and she saw a familiar face over his shoulder. Phoenix was forced to press her lips together as she tried not to look too pleased to see him. "Phoenix," Luc greeted her casually. She tried not to react too overtly to the way Luc he kissed her lightly on the cheek as though he had done it a million times before. Deep down she want to turn to him and give him back the kind of kiss that he had given her in the cab the night before, the kind that had made her wake with an unconscious smile that morning. Grudgingly though she settled on the fact that, in front of the opera's biggest star, it might be somehow inappropriate to suddenly start making out with one's supervisor. That didn't keep the thought of it from entertaining her immensely as she focused on not laughing and he greeted her chance companion. "Frederick...it's good to see you again. I missed you."

"I say! Sir Luc?! But...how are you alive?!" Worthington exclaimed suddenly, drawing a look of earnest surprise from Phoenix for whom it took a moment to register why he was so surprised. Breifly she was forced to wonder if he had recieved this reaction much since his return. And as the ammends from their fight were still fresh she couldn't help but wonder with a bit of smugness if perhaps hadn't made him regret it just a bit. She didn't truly want him to feel guilty, but if it were true it would make her feel a little less so for the things she had shouted at him. "Have you come back from the grave to haunt me for purchasing all that clothing for you, then dressing you up only to be rejected by Miss Adeline?" Phoenix's look of surprised turned to one of true intrigue as her gaze slid from the man backing away from them in horror to the one who had somehow failed to mention being rejected by the Opera's lead soprano. Was she missing something? Hadn't they been engaged? Perhaps he had had a point with his angry accusation the day they had 'discussed' her changes to the backstage rigging. Maybe she had been misinformed, perhaps she had spoken without truly understanding. "If this is the reason you have come back, I beg of you, have pity on me! I only wished to help you win the lady you loved!" Her stomach tightened reflexively, well she apparently had gotten some parts of the story straight. "I am ever so sorry she rejected you, I could not have known it! Please, please do not hurt me!" Phoenix chewed her lip, feeling increasingly uncomfortable, as the man who had been so proud and dignified a moment ago nearly cowered away from them. She flashed Luc a quick scolding glance and muttered in a terse whisper, "Proud of yourself?" as she quickly stepped to the tenor who had back himself into a wall.

Phoenix felt so very sorry for the dignified man who was unwittingly making a spectacle of himself through a serious misunderstanding. And though she thought that it was the man who had willing deceived him and everyone else that had some serious explaining to do, and she was almost looking forward to hearing how he talked his way out of this one, she couldn't let the confusion continue. She especially didn't want the prudish saleswoman to see him so unnerved after he had so effectively put her in her place. When he got ahold of himself he wouldn't want to given her the satisfaction. "Mr. Worthington," she said cautiously, slightly pleading as she tentatively reached out to place a hand gently on his shoulder, "please... it's okay. He's real, he's not a ghost. I'm sure of it," she reassured. She wanted to offer him some proof, but was quite sure that repeating the kiss from the night before, which was clear confirmation to her of his mortality, was not what the tenor would find comforting. Nor was she particularly anxious in this moment to show such affection for a man who had deceived people who cared about him, a fact she had willingly forgotten the evening before. So instead, with more than a bit of vinidictive enjoyment she retreated to Luc's side and grabbed a large chuck on his upper arm pinching hard. "See," she said as she squeezed for an instant and punctuating it with a mischievous grin. Phoenix gave him a small apologetic shrug. True, it wasn't her job to punish him for thing that had happened before she'd even known him. But even he would have to admit he probably getting off light. And, she thought as she tried to look at him with an innocence even she didn't buy, she was only trying to make a point to help Mr. Worthington cope.

Erik

03-10-2008, 05:02 PM

Luc Danier

Luc didn't know what he was expecting when Frederick realized who he was. And that he was back. Alive. But he sure wasn't expecting the reaction he got. Frederick's eyes flew open as wide as saucers as he made hste to step away from the stagehand. "I say! Sir Luc?!" Frederick exclaimed, and he thought that he was sure Phoenix would mock him for life and only call him Sir Luc from that day forward. "But...how are you alive?!" Luc hesitated, not really wanting to get into the story. He loved Frederick's generosity, but the two men were not exactly close, not so much that he would tell him every detail of how he came to be standing there at that very instant. Fortuantely, Frederick continued, sparing him momentarily from the horrors of explination. "Have you come back from the grave to haunt me for purchasing all that clothing for you, then dressing you up only to be rejected by Miss Adeline?" Luc blinked, and tried to remember the last time he had spoken to Frederick, and realized that Frederick knew nothing about what had happened to Luc and Adeline. He knew nothing about how they dated, how they fell in love. He knew nothing about how just days before the night of the chandelier falling on him, he had asked Adeline to marry him, and she had accepted. He assumed, then, that the explaining would not be quite so difficult, as he was going to completely sidestep the questions of 'You didn't tell your girlfriend you were alive?', or, 'You didn't tell your FIANCE that you were alive!?'. It would be nice to avoid those questions altogether.

"If this is the reason you have come back, I beg of you, have pity on me! I only wished to help you win the lady you loved! I am ever so sorry she rejected you, I could not have known it! Please, please do not hurt me!" Luc felt a swirl of emotions in the pit of his stomache. On one hand, he was annoyed, knowing he would have to explain this to Frederick, and was already mapping out the best way to get it over with quickly. He also felt sorry for Frederick... that he was so effected by Luc's return. Although, he wasn't entirely surprised by Frederick's reaction, he was certainly a bit taken aback that he, Monsieur Worthington, the Opera Populaire's leading tenor and one of the richest men in Paris, was making such a scene in the Jean-Paul Gaultier Boutique. "Proud of yourself?" Phoenix whispered, and Luc shot her a look of helplessness. What was he supposed to do? He wanted to tell Frederick that he was sorry, and that he wasn't a ghost, but he couldn't find the words amidst all of the other thoughts that were surrounding his brain. Luckily, Phoenix was there, and he was thankful for it as she tried to calm Frederick, who was currently standing against a wall with a cape over his head in terror.

"Mr. Worthington," Phoenix said lightly, reaching out to place a hand on Frederick. "please... it's okay. He's real, he's not a ghost. I'm sure of it," she explained, and Luc nodded. He wondered what he was going to have to do to make this up to Frederick, as the poor man was clearly devestated by the whole event, as well as completely in the dark over what was going on before he had disappeared to Marsailles. Luc made her way back to Luc's side, and before he could protest, grabbed his arm and pinched hard enough to bruise it for a few days. "OW!" he cried, snatching his arm back and rubbing it gently, giving Phoenix a look of aggrivation while she shrugged in apology that he knew she didn't mean. "Don't you think I'm bruised enough..." he said, and it was true. Not only had his wounds from the chandelier caused him immediate and, in some cases, long lasting pain, but also his experience in the Abandoned mansion had left him with a still healing face and body. It was almost better now, but he was still feeling like god's punching bag, and he was giving free shots to anyone and everyone. "See," she said to Frederick, and Luc's more than human reaction to her violent pinch. Though it could have been worse. With Phoenix he would have expected a punch to the face rather than a pinch to his arm.

"Yes, I can very much feel pain," he said through his teeth, before focusing on the issue at hand once more. He walked over to Frederick and, putting a hand on his shoulder, said "I am quite alive. I didn't die at that Masquerade, I had simply become a bit mangled, but Pieter Lachen fixed me up nicely. I was away in a town south of here when I was gone, as my father had become quite sick, and I was visiting him for a few months." Luc explained all of this patiently to Frederick Worthington, hoping that he wasn't going to have to go into any further detailes, because though Phoenix might protest given Frederick's reaction, Luc just wasn't going to offer up much more. "And the old man sent me back up here to see everyone," he said, not pointing out that this 'everyone' meant 'Adeline', "and here I am. It's okay. If I was a ghost I would be haunting those who did me wrong, not friends who have helped me such as you have." He offered a smile at Frederick, hoping that this was going to be good enough.

Ubaldo Piangi

03-14-2008, 06:06 AM

Frederick Worthington

He must have looked like such a fool...the great Frederick Worthington, cowering like a frightened child at the sight of Luc Danier, his back against the wall. It seemed that the stagehand had returned from the dead...he remembered hearing about the young man saving Adeline from a tragic fate, and instead of the chandelier smashing to pieces on her, he pushed her out of the way just before it fell upon him. The tenor had read that the impact, as well as the millions of shards of broken glass that came from the fall, had caused Luc to bleed to death; he had even sent condolences to the opera house's star soprano, acknowledging how sorry he was for her loss. And now...who should he find standing before him but the man he thought was dead. Frederick believed that the souls of the departed could still haunt others, just as he knew from the teachings of his faith that demons roamed the world seeking the ruin of innocent souls. He did not pay attention to what Phoenix muttered to Luc before approaching him, for he was too frightened and the shock was paralyzing him.

"Mr. Worthington, please... it's okay. He's real, he's not a ghost. I'm sure of it." The well-dressed British gentleman felt Phoenix's hand on his broad shoulder, though the touch was cautious, tentative. He could sense she was unsure of how else to comfort him; however, it did get his eyes to open once more and he relaxed his facial muscles, as they were becoming uncomfortably tight from the tension. The young tenor looked to the brunette woman, his mind starting to fully process her words, but he still felt he had to be careful...he did not know what sort of stunt might be pulled on him. Frederick watched silently as she then moved back towards Luc and, in a surprising move, grabbed a good chunk of skin and muscle on his arm, then pinched it hard. "See?"

"OW! Don't you think I'm bruised enough..." The male stagehand's cry of pain broke through the barrier of fear, causing relief to flood through the Englishman's body. His friend was indeed alive after all! "Yes, I can very much feel pain." The Frenchman spoke through gritted teeth, obviously directing his frustration at feeling more pain towards Phoenix; then he approached Frederick and placed his own hand on the opera singer's sloped, muscular shoulder.

"I am quite alive. I didn't die at that Masquerade, I had simply become a bit mangled, but Pieter Lachen fixed me up nicely. I was away in a town south of here when I was gone, as my father had become quite sick, and I was visiting him for a few months." It all seemed like a movie drama or soap opera in real life: the young protagonist saved the woman he loved from certain disaster and supposedly dying in the process, only to be nursed back to relatively full health by a friend, then mysteriously disappear for a while before showing up and surprising at least one person who did not know that he had been alive all along. Thoughts of how Luc could have survived the chandelier crashing down on him swirled through Frederick's head, and he tried to make sense of it all, though it was likely useless to do so. The gentleman stepped away from the wall and relaxed his arms, letting them fall naturally at his sides, his hands letting go of his Inverness cape in the process. "And the old man sent me back up here to see everyone, and here I am. It's okay. If I was a ghost I would be haunting those who did me wrong, not friends who have helped me such as you have." Luc smiled, showing that there was nothing to fear, and the tall, dark-haired tenor placed a hand over his heart.

"Thank heaven you survived that accident, Sir Luc! It was miraculous, I daresay; as broken as you must have been, you have recovered enough that you are able to return to many of your daily activities and to your friends," Frederick replied, placing a strong hand firmly, but not roughly, on the young man's shoulder. "Someone up there loves you enough that you were allowed to live. You must also be very grateful to Herr Lachen for mending you. On a slightly different note, I do hope your father is better after his period of illness, as I am sure you care for him very much." A smile turned the corners of the British tenor's lips upward as he gazed at his old friend, glad to see that he was alive and (relatively) well.

Daroga

03-16-2008, 02:55 AM

Phoenix Mercer

There was something distinctly satisfactory about the pained yelped that her pinch elicited from Luc. "OW!" he cried as he rubbed his arm, "Don't you think I'm bruised enough..." he said pitifully before turning back to the tenor. She made sure to maintain her impish smile until after her had turned away and said, "Yes, I can very much feel pain." Her smiled faltered a bit after that as he proceeded to explain. "I am quite alive. I didn't die at that Masquerade, I had simply become a bit mangled." She hadn't truly stopped to consider before the injuries he alluded to, other than in a single moment of realization at the sight of one of what she now realized must be his many scars left by a difficult life and the weight of a crushing chandelier, and a harsh comment that continued to pain her regret. "But Pieter Lachen fixed me up nicely. I was away in a town south of here when I was gone, as my father had become quite sick, and I was visiting him for a few months." Phoenix recalled how touched she had been only the night before as he had spoken of his new found family and the windfall of love they had granted him with. A small piece that was the puzzle of this man before her fell quietly into place. His father had been sick, and even in the midst of his own recovery he had gone to spend the time he had, while he could.

"And the old man sent me back up here to see everyone, and here I am. It's okay. If I was a ghost I would be haunting those who did me wrong, not friends who have helped me such as you have." Phoenix found herself chewing her lip with amusement. She couldn't pretend to understand Luc fully enough yet, but if there was one thing that she felt she had a complete grasp on it was his stubbornness and she quickly caught that he had spoken of his return as his father's idea and not his own. She could easily imagine that it had taken an order, and a bit of 'discussion' on the matter, to make him return to Paris. She was glad he had. And even Worthington seemed to be adjusting to the idea of Luc's Lazarus like reappearance as his posture relaxed notably and the air of nobility settled over him again, if only a bit shaken. "Thank heaven you survived that accident, Sir Luc! It was miraculous, I daresay; as broken as you must have been," Phoenix shudder slightly as each time his accident was mentioned a mental image of horror came into a sharper focus. "You have recovered enough that you are able to return to many of your daily activities and to your friends. Someone up there loves you enough that you were allowed to live. You must also be very grateful to Herr Lachen for mending you." Phoenix cast a small glance over her shoulder at the sales woman. She seemed to still be occupied with a rack of dresses that she wished she would just pick one for them to more the arduous process of dress shopping on with, but glad that now that the misunderstanding was cleared up that she hadn't born witness to Worthington's reaction. "On a slightly different note, I do hope your father is better after his period of illness, as I am sure you care for him very much."

Phoenix found herself so engrossed in also wanting to hear about the status of Luc's father's health, and hoping secertly that maybe in his response she would glean a few more details, that she didn't even notice the saleswomen approach. "Ahem," she cleared her throat behind them, and Phoenix turned to find her with the metal rack she had been considering before in tow. "Are we ready then," she asked with her pretentious tone restored in her absence. Phoenix looked quizically between her and the rack. There had to be more than a dozen dresses there. How many did this woman think she could wear in the course of one evening? She looked back helplessly at Luc and Worthington, more so at the latter as she doubted Luc had any more of an idea what the woman was thinking than she did. Was this normal? She had a sudden terrifying image of being in this shop trying on formalwear from now until the moment she had to arrive at the gala. Phoenix turned back to the rack she was presented with and gave the apparel a second glance. "Oh no!" she said as some of the garments came into clearer focus. "There's no way in hell I'm wearing that!" she said pointing in horror at the carcass of a fox draped casually around a brown velvet dress (http://i162.photobucket.com/albums/t277/JonRugger/Jean-Paul%20Gaultier/18.jpg). She glared at the sales woman with an aggervation she channeled from her mother's long years of activism against the mistreatment of animals. "No fur," she stated firmly as she marched to the rack and pulled the dress from the bar, glancing at the poor creature with pity, and hanging it firmly at the back of the row of dresses then spotting another (http://i162.photobucket.com/albums/t277/JonRugger/Jean-Paul%20Gaultier/6.jpg) that committed the same offense and moving it next to the first. Feeling a bit empowered by her disdain she pulled a third dress (http://i162.photobucket.com/albums/t277/JonRugger/Jean-Paul%20Gaultier/00030m.jpg) from the rack that reminded her of her father's favorite recliner that he refused to let her mother dispose of, despite years of pleading. She looked over it with disbelief before glancing back at her male compainions as though to ask if they were having the same problem believeing what they were seeing as she was then turning to the woman who had in a moment of insanity selected it. "Are you serious?" she asked, hoping she would say no. "Do people actually wear this?" she shuddered slightly at the thought as she moved it next to the dresses drenched in the blood of innocent creatures. "And where's the rest of this one (http://i162.photobucket.com/albums/t277/JonRugger/Jean-Paul%20Gaultier/15.jpg)?" she asked looking at the woman through it's revealing stripes before shaking her head and assessing what she had left. This was going to be harder than she had imagined.

Ubaldo Piangi

04-10-2008, 10:47 PM

Frederick Worthington

"Ahem." It was the voice of the self-important sales associate who had earlier encountered the opera tenor, which caused the young man to groan inwardly. She had been silent for a while, bustling about the boutique gathering expensive luxury designer gowns from the racks and putting them on a wheeled rack in order to put together a selection for Phoenix. But it had been the sales associate's haughtiness and condescension towards the young woman that had raised Frederick's hackles, especially since she was a mere employee of the boutique. However, the woman had believed this gave her the right to treat Phoenix like a street rat simply because she did not know about high fashion. "Are we ready, then?" The young lady simply turned towards Luc and the Englishman near him, a clearly helpless look on her face; all that the gentleman could do would be to watch and see what gowns she chose. Finally, Phoenix turned to the rack and began to look at the dresses more clearly.

"Oh no! There's no way in hell I'm wearing that!" Frederick blinked, wondering what could be the matter with her. It was not until he saw where her finger was pointing that he realized what caused the girl's reaction: there on the rack was a brown velvet gown that otherwise looked gorgeous, but it had a fox carcass casually flung about it. Even he was shocked by it, for it was rather daring that a haute mode designer like Gaultier would attempt putting a full dead animal on a piece of clothing. "No fur." Phoenix's statement was adamant and confident as she pulled the dress on its hanger from its place on the rack, then, after a glance of pity for the poor fox that adorned the waterfall of brown velvet, hung it at the back of the other gowns. Unfortunately for the young lady, her next find was a similar atrocity, so she promptly moved it to the same place as she had the first gown.

"Are you serious?" Phoenix had now pulled a hanger draped with a plaid ensemble of bright yellow and black, a combination that made it look like it belonged on a model who was attempting to pull off the latest look of the season, "prep-bee". It was rather hideous, and not even Frederick could ascertain what had been going through the sales associate's mind when she chose this particular dress. He was more than sure there was no way that the young lady would wear such a thing to the Anniversary Gala, especially since it was a formal event. She glanced back at the English tenor and Luc, wondering if they shared her disbelief at the outfit. "Do people actually wear this?"

"Monsieur Gaultier showed it on the runway, and it was a hit with the fashion critics. Maybe these people at your 'gala' will look at you strangely, but then again, they wouldn't know couture if it walked up and tore the clothes off their bodies because most people don't understand this sort of...lifestyle that we, the fashion-savvy, are privileged to live." Frederick's eyebrows arched downward and he folded his muscular arms over his large chest, his piercing grey eyes staring pointedly at the saleswoman. She immediately closed her mouth and hung the garish, short-skirted dress back on the rack without another word, at least for the moment.

"And where's the rest of this one?" Phoenix had taken a gown that was black, and looked rather formal; the problem with this particular dress, however, was the fact that the whole thing was revealing, as it was made of nearly transparent fabric. This, out of the four dresses the young lady had chosen so far, was the most shocking to the very proper British singer. His mouth dropped open, while one hand went to the side of his head, his fingers slightly swept through his thick dark hair.

"Oh, good heavens, none of these are right! What sort of an employee are you, madam? Can you not tell that none of the gowns Miss Phoenix has chosen flatter her in the least?" Frederick finally said, placing his other hand on his waistline. He could not believe that the sales associate had done so poorly a job in selecting dresses that might be even remotely appropriate for a formal event like the Anniversary Gala. After all, it was the event of the year (aside from the annual Masquerade) because it was a celebration of the re-opening of the Paris Opera House. "Are there any gowns in this boutique that would be appropriate for this young lady, madam? Or must I contact Monsieur Gaultier personally and tell him about your poor service, then ask him to have a dress made especially for this young lady here?" He gestured to the female stagehand, the fingertips of his hand resting near her shoulder blade with a feather-light touch while he continued to glare at the sales associate. The mere mention of a customer not even dealing with the management of the boutique, but going all the way to the designer himself, was one that made the woman fear for the security of her job.

Erik

04-26-2008, 03:59 AM

Luc Danier

At Luc's explination, the shortened version, anyway, Frederick seemed monumentally reassured that he was not indeed crazy and seeing the spirit of his 'dead' friend Luc Danier. "Thank heaven you survived that accident, Sir Luc! It was miraculous, I daresay; as broken as you must have been, you have recovered enough that you are able to return to many of your daily activities and to your friends," he commented in a very polite manner, as was Frederick's way. He gave the older british man a lopsided smile as he was given a pat on the back, never having been happier to see Frederick than right then. Finally, someone who wasn't pressing him for more answers! "Yes, well, I must have good genes because I healed up quick," he said for the sake of the conversation. And it was true, on his mother's side at least. No one ever suspected her husband was abusive because of her expert ability to hide it, and the fact that she healed so quickly that no one generally noticed. He did not, of course, share this thought. "Someone up there loves you enough that you were allowed to live. You must also be very grateful to Herr Lachen for mending you. On a slightly different note, I do hope your father is better after his period of illness, as I am sure you care for him very much." Luc returned Frederick's smile, and glad the subject was changed. "Yes, he's doing much better now, thank you," he said, absently thinking that he was probably shocking Phoenix entirely with his manners. Then again, after the charming night they had shared together in the streets of Paris, he wasn't so sure that he could surprise her anymore. He was sure that he had already done so epically. Before he could add anything else, however, the saleswoman interrupted, armed with a whole rack of designer dresses.

"Ahem. Are we ready then," the rather snooty woman asked, though it was more of a statement than a question. Oh forgive me for breathing your air, he thought in full sarcasm, immediately disliking this woman. He never did enjoy women who were full of themselves. He watched Phoenix take a look at the rack and look to the men who were present, and Luc gave her a look that asked, are you kidding me? As if he would know better than she how to do this! He was just there because, though he wasn't ready to admit it, he had been longing to see her after their kiss, that and he was holding the purse strings of this shopping adventure. "Oh no!" she cried once she had gotten a better look at the dresses, and Luc looked at her in surprise and worry, thinking something was terribly wrong with this whole situation, not just the clothing. He expected her to follow that up with, 'what am I doing, getting a dress to go with you?', but it never came. "There's no way in hell I'm wearing that!" came the addition to her outburst of horror, and he followed her pointing finger to a brown dress that had a fox pelt hung on it. He felt sorry for the poor animal, and he looked at it with pity. It then occured to him that Phoenix was very passionate about the protection of an innocent animal, and he admired it. It made her seem even more incredible considering she stood in firm protest against cruelty where most would silently reject the piece. She spoke out against it, much to the chagrin of the saleswoman, and he found that endearing. "No fur," she said as she placed it at the back of the row of dresses, and continued browsing.

The only problem was that the other dresses were hideous in asthetics, which she commented on as she held up each dress and made a disgusted face and commented on the lack of fashion in the selection. Luc quickly tried to disguise a rather amused laugh as a cough when he caught the evil eye of the sales associate who was very obvious in her disproval of Phoenix's comments, and Luc's reaction to them. "Oh, good heavens, none of these are right! What sort of an employee are you, madam? Can you not tell that none of the gowns Miss Phoenix has chosen flatter her in the least?" Frederick piped up, and Luc nodded in agreement, having a hard time picturing Phoenix wearing a hideous mustard coloured plaid.... thing. "Are there any gowns in this boutique that would be appropriate for this young lady, madam? Or must I contact Monsieur Gaultier personally and tell him about your poor service, then ask him to have a dress made especially for this young lady here?" Luc gave a false cough again, just to hide his smile behind his hand, as he knew that Frederick would indeed contact the owner of the designer store in a heartbeat, and he wondered if the woman knew exactly who she was dealing with here. A woman with the temper of the devil and a man who always got what he wanted, and this lady was displeasing them. He almost felt bad for her before he caught that sneer on her face again. "I'm sure we can do better than this," he added awkwardly, not used to both dress shopping and being the nice one in the group. "Nothing with fur, nothing you can see through, and nothing that looks like a dog threw it up please. It is, after all a Gala," he said, and the woman promptly turned on her heel and stalked off to find something else for Phoenix to try.

OOC: Short. Oh well. And if it seems forced that's cause.... it is! lol. BIC:

maskedsinger

05-23-2008, 02:36 AM

OOC: For Chace and Gwen. BIC:

Chace Fuller

Chace walked into the boutique. It was known for the rock style clothing and great models. Chace smiled at the thought. He shook his head, no. He really liked Scarlett. He needed a jacket for the masquerade, although the fact that he was in a boutique known for rock clothing was not the best choice. He was going to go with Scarlett to Chanel and buy her, her dress, if she would allow him. He wanted to buy her the most beautiful dress. He wanted her to be the most beautiful girl at the ball. Although she already would be.

As he walked through the glass doors a sales woman approached him. She was around her age and she smiled. She had blonde hair, green eyes, was tall, and insanely thin. Chace smiled and looked over at the men's department. Before he could walk away the lady stepped in his path.

"Hi. Can I help you?"

She said this in a very annoying peppy way. "Just looking, thanks." He took a step to the right but she followed. Chace rolled his eyes as he tried to get around her. She refused to leave him alone.

"Let me know if you need any help."

She said. Chace rolled his eyes. "I would be able to let you know if you got out of my way." He said scornfully. She was annoying him and she stepped out of the way. He walked over to the mens racks and started looking through the variety of styles and colors.

Mrs Nadir Khan

05-23-2008, 03:30 AM

Gwen Cooper

One would assume that a former Hollywood actress would have a gown for the impending Masquerade Ball. But if one assumed that, they clearly knew nothing about Gwen Cooper. For one thing, most of the red carpet gowns were never truly hers and for another, those that were had been the first things to go before Gwen left the States. And now she was beginning to regret not having her Zac Posen original pieces or the gorgeous Vera Wang gown she’d worn to her last movie premiere simply because chic business wear would never do in a gala setting. She made her way into the Jean-Paul Gaultier Boutique, knowing full well that whatever she found would be more rocker-chic than she typically went for, but Gwen needed to depart from her old self to some degree—otherwise she’d never move on with her life.

As Gwen made her way across the store, cutting through the men’s department, she saw salespeople and customers milling about. But only one pair caught her attention. A young man—twenties—and a young saleswoman.

"Let me know if you need any help." She said.

"I would be able to let you know if you got out of my way,” said he.

Gwen’s blue-grey eyes widened and she watched the man stalk off as the young saleslady stared in shock.

“Are you alright?” Gwen asked the woman, who looked as though she might cry. The woman nodded but quickly excused herself; Gwen saw the tears in her eyes before she could turn her back. Setting her jaw, Gwen followed the obscenely rude man.

“She was just doing her job, you know,” she said conversationally—if a tad indignant for the saleswoman’s sake. “There was no reason to be a total… jerk.”

She refrained from calling him an “ass” to his face, though secretly, that’s what Gwen knew he had to be. A rich, handsome thing like him surely didn’t care about those “beneath” him and he was just the sort of man Gwen sought to extricate herself from.

maskedsinger

05-24-2008, 01:14 AM

Chace Fuller

As he looked through the variety of jackets, picking up ones he thought were nice, and some he thought he liked just for casual. He did feel bad though, being rude to the saleswoman, she was only trying to do her job. As he was about to turn around to go apologize to her, a voice spoke.

“She was just doing her job, you know there was no reason to be a total… jerk.”

Chace turned around to see Gwen Cooper standing right behind him. He smiled. "Well I actually was about to go apologize for my behavior Miss. Cooper," he said. He went over to the woman, looking back at the redhead. "I'm terribly sorry for my behavior earlier. It was so rude of me." He said. The girl smiled as she told him it was okay. "May I please have a room?" Chace asked nicely. She smiled, nodded and walked away. He went back to Gwen.

He smiled. "You see, I'm not so bad." Chace said. "Chace," he said as he stretched out his hand to the beautiful actress. Just because he was a guy, doesn't mean he couldn't love "A Summer Aboard." Yes, he was a little bit of a sucker for chick flicks, but he decided not to share that.

Mrs Nadir Khan

05-24-2008, 05:54 AM

Gwen Cooper

The man turned around. Young, blonde, good looking. Of course he would have to be handsome. Gwen waited for a tart response as he’d given the saleswoman, but did not receive one.

"Well I actually was about to go apologize for my behavior Miss. Cooper," he said smoothly.

Oh, damn… he knows who I am… Gwen thought as she watched the man go to “apologize” to the saleslady; Gwen didn’t think it much of an apology as he continued to stare back at her. He came back. His smile and gait just oozed self-confidence in its worst form—arrogance.

"You see, I'm not so bad." Chace said. "Chace.”

He extended a hand to Gwen, who did not accept it at first. “Monsieur Chace, then… would you have really apologized to that young woman if no one said anything to you?”

Gwen was a stickler for respect. She remembered well her days before acting. The days of smiling and welcoming people to Wal-Mart; the evenings of waiting tables and bartending and doing dishes; the weekends of working cash register at McDonald’s… Such jobs were soulless things and rude customers only made them worse. Gwen could not forget that and something about this man rubbed her the wrong way. And Gwen Cooper was not someone you wanted to cross upon first meeting.

maskedsinger

05-26-2008, 04:51 AM

Chace Fuller

“Monsieur Chace, then… would you have really apologized to that young woman if no one said anything to you?”

Chace raised his eyebrows and he stuffed his outstretched hand into his pocket. "Yes." He answered simply. He may be rude at times, but he was a gentleman. He was raised by one of the wealthiest families in Boston and in America. He was raised to speak when spoken to, stand up straight, have a firm handshake, and do everything you can to prevent yourself from embarrassing your parents. Also, always do everything to be polite to women, for she may be your future wife, in the words of his mother. "I may be rude at times, but I was raised to be a gentleman. To open doors, to pull out chairs and to help women with their coats." Chace told her.

He smiled as he picked up yet another jacket. "So Miss Cooper, in Paris for another movie?" Chace asked turning away from the beautiful red head. She was more beautiful in person with her gorgeous red hair and facial structure.

Mrs Nadir Khan

05-28-2008, 02:54 AM

Gwen Cooper

"Yes."

He put his formerly outstretched hand into his pocket. Gwen somehow did not believe him. He seemed like one of those arrogant guys, the kinds who thought they had all the talent and looks and cash that were necessary to get by and, thus, didn’t need to care about others. Gwen knew this type of man too well; she’d married (and recently divorced) one.

“I see… My mistake, then,” she said, not sounding apologetic, but rather, a bit mocking.

Chace’s behavior had somehow put her in a worse mood than before. Already, she was despairing because she was wasting her time just outside the men’s department when she really needed an evening gown for the impending masquerade….

"I may be rude at times, but I was raised to be a gentleman. To open doors, to pull out chairs and to help women with their coats."

“Being raised as a gentleman and living like a gentleman are two different things, sir. Doors, chairs, and coats are only half of the package.” She smiled sweetly and her tone was honeyed, but there was a poison to that sweetness, an underlying bitterness. Whether derived from Chace’s behavior or the sort of memories he aroused, Gwen could not say. She sighed heavily and turned to go.

"So Miss Cooper, in Paris for another movie?"

Gwen froze in her tracks. Another movie? Was he kidding? She scoffed lightly before facing him. “Why would I come out of comfortable retirement to make another movie, Mister Chace? It doesn’t seem logical for me to give up peace and quiet and solitude for the pushing and shoving of Hollywood.”

inside your mind15

12-03-2008, 02:25 AM

OOC: Meeting between Calvin, Scarlett and Rebecca ( I believe)
BIC:

Scarlett Beaumont

A day of shopping with her best friend Rebecca was just what Scarlett needed to get out of the rut she had been in for so long. She hadn't been shopping in so long, she forgot what she had last bought on the outing. It brought back old memories of herself and Rebecca on their excursions, when they'd normally end up at the bookstore, sitting in the overstuffed chairs and chatting about books or music or whatever came to mind. She had worn a tight pencil skirt that went down past her knees and a white, v-neck satin blouse. Her heels clicked along the pavement as she walked into Jean-Paul Gaultier. This was the first stop on her and Rebecca's day of shopping, and also where they were supposed to meet. She glanced down at her watch anxiously, tapping her toe on the floor impatiently. It wasn't like Rebecca to be late, but she could peruse the clothes before she got there. She put her sunglasses on her forehead and began to look around, scanning different items of clothing, keeping an eye on the door in case Rebecca were to walk in.

angelofthenight

12-03-2008, 05:17 AM

Calvin Booth

Calvin truthfully and honestly didn't know what he was doing here. Well okay, he did but it would sound competely rediculous if he tried to explain it to anyone. The reason he'd wandered into the store that was far out of his price range.. in fact he coudlnt' even fanthom buying anything int he store but he'd spotted a rather intrigueing woman that had been walking down a street. She was dressed in a pencil skirt and v-neck blouse and for whatever reason he'd felt the urge to follow her. He stood in the entryway of the boutique and looked around, feeling strangely uncomforatble. It was then that he spotted the woman wandering around a wrack of expenise looking shirts and he looked around. He spotted a woman walking over to a wrack with a bunch of robes draped over her arm. He smiled slightly, an idea popping into his head and he walked over to the woman, asking if he could see the dark purple robe and he was pleased when she handed it to him. He draped it over hsi arm much teh same way the woman had and he walked with quiet confidence over to the girl that was the reason he was in here in the first place.. it had been a long time since he'd tried to pick up any woman.. and he hoped that he wasn't to rusty...

He put on a charming smile and moved so that he was opposite the wrack that she was look at. He watched her pick up a shirt and hold it out so she coudl examine. He groaned as if in frustration and he met her gaze for a moment then smiled slightly. "I'm sorry.." he said quickly, looking down at the robe draped over his arms. "Itst just I don't come in here that often so I'm kind of lost on what to get.. its my sister's birthday and I'm trying to find her something.. but its proving more difficult then I'd originally th oguht ti would be.." he admitted with a slight shrug as he made sure to stay on his side of the wrack.. give her the space that she felt comfortable with.. if she took a step toward him.. then he would know that she wasn't going to run off.. atlesat not right way. He cleared his throat and smiled sheepishly. "Think you mgiht be able to help me out.. I mean.. " he held up the robe so she could see it and glanced at her. "Do you like this? Because I'm not to crazy about it.. do you think maybe if I went with a different color.. or.. shoudl I just get somethign else completley different.." he asked, reather pleased that he was growing so flustered and he hoped that she foudn his facade to be convincing... not picking up on the twinkle that lurked in the depths of his warm brown eyes.

inside your mind15

12-03-2008, 07:06 PM

Scarlett Beaumont

Scarlett was examining a blouse, and her somewhat grumble in frustration near her. She looked up and met a man's gaze. He had a deep purple robe slung over his arm and he smiled at her, she smiled back, and gave him a look so that he would know that he had her attention. He was handsome, with beautiful brown eyes and a warm smile.
. "I'm sorry.." he said quickly, looking down at the robe draped over his arms. "Its just I don't come in here that often so I'm kind of lost on what to get.. its my sister's birthday and I'm trying to find her something.. but its proving more difficult then I'd originally than I thought it would be.." He said with a shrug. She nodded staying where she was. She knew exactly what he was doing, being the quick witted woman she was, and she wasn't sure if she was okay with it or not. She had gotten many pick-up lines before, but this one was different. He seemed different. Though she decided to play along, it couldn't hurt right?
"Think you might be able to help me out.. I mean.. " he held up the robe so she could see it and glanced at her. "Do you like this? Because I'm not to crazy about it.. do you think maybe if I went with a different color.. or.. should I just get something else completely different.." She smiled, amusement in her eyes.
" Well Monsieur," She said, walking around the rack, pushing a stray hair behind her ear, her hands trailing the clothes," I'm not a fashion expert, but..." She said, her eyes scanning through the rack, finding what she wanted and pulling out a tasteful satin blouse with a gold sheen that she had been eyeing earlier," This won't disappoint," She said with a smile, almost handing it to him, then pulling back." But you aren't here for your sister," She said, an amused grin on her face." You're facade was impressive," She said, a smile on her face. " Scarlett Beaumont, a pleasure."

angelofthenight

12-03-2008, 11:06 PM

Calvin Booth

Calvin had been a ladies man in college. He'd often had atleast two dates a week and usually it wasn't with the same woman. He'd been a player... atleast that was the stereotype most people had given him. Then one night.. he'd gone to a bar and met Taressa. She'd been different. The quiet blonde haired blue eyed girl from Arizona had hit a soft spot with him and he'd imediately been intrigued by her. Much like he was intrigued with this woman that he was now trying to meet. Yet Taressa had broke him of old habits. He'd dated her steadily for almost three and half years... and getting her out on that first date had taken him three months. He'd left her notes on her door. He'd called her atleast once a week asking if she was busy and she always said she was. He'd talke dto her friends and they'd said that Taressa was to focused on her studies to think about work but Calvin wasn't going to take no for an answer and finally.. when he stood up in their biochemisty class and said he wouldn't sit down until she agreed to a date with him.. she'd agreed.. only because the teacher had promised a pop quiz for the whole class if she didn't.. and after that night the two of them had practically been inseparable. Calvin hadn't thought she would break his heart and leave it broken for the next nine years.. but she had.. and now that ti was just beginning to mend.. he felt that he was ready to start dating again.. and who knows.. maybe something would happen.

He made sure he had the woman's attention and then smield when she caught his gaze. She was pretty, he coduln't deny that... and she held a natural beauty. The v-neck blouse that she wore hugged her cruves and the pinstripe skirt did owonders to accentuate the tinyness of her waist. He felt as if he coudl wrap both hands around her waist and he wondered how woman managed to stay so thin... it had always amazed him. He explained to her that he was shopping for her sister and he coudl see the disbelief in her eyes and he wondered if a man had used this on her before. " Well Monsieur," She began and he imediately recognized the American accent that laced her words. She slowly walked around the rack towards him, pushing a stray hair behind her ear, her hands trailing the clothes and he watched her slender white hand as it caressed the sleeves of each expenisve blouse. "I'm not a fashion expert, but..." She began, her eyes scanning through the rack, finding what she wanted and pulling out a satin blouse with a gold sheen. "This won't disappoint," She told him with a smile and he smield gratefully at her, making a move to take it. She almost handed it to him, then pulled it back. " But you aren't here for your sister," She said, an amused grin on her face and he fsmiled as well " You're facade was impressive," She said, a smile on her face and he bowed as if to an audience. "Weather I'm here for my sister is for me to know and you to find out.." he said with an amused smile of his own as he took the blouse from her.

" Scarlett Beaumont, a pleasure." she introduced herself and he smiled shaking her hand with a firm grip, making sure he didn't squeeze her hand to tight. "Calvin Booth... and the pleasure is all mine I assure you... " he said as he hung the robe neatly over the wrack. "as for my facade being impressive I strongly doubt that.." he began as he folded his arms over his chest casually. "if it was that impressive you wouldn't have seen through it..." he said with a teasing smile as he walked toward a woman that was standing behidn the check out desk. He placed the blouse on the counter and smiled at the woman who rang up the blouse. If he wasn't standing next to Scarlett his jaw probably would'v dropped at the price of it and he would've gone back and put it away but as it was he coudl feel her eyes on him as he took his wallet out and handed the woman his credit card. His salary as a Detective wasn't horrible but he wasn't one to spend a lot fo money on a woman unless he was dating her but it was part of his plan.. he jus wished that Scarlett would've handed him something that was cheaper then the blouse but she hadn'ded him this.. and so he was going to buy it. He discreetly took a pen and wrote ont eh back of reciet. "You're right.. I don't have a sister.. I hope you like the blouse- Calvin Booth then on the bottom he scribbled hsi cell number and thanked the woman as she handed him a bag. He turned to Scarlett and smiled. "It was a pleasure to meet you..." he said, handing her the bag and headed for teh door, walking slowly, wondering if she would stop him from leaving and comment about what he'd done...

inside your mind15

12-03-2008, 11:39 PM

Scarlett Beaumont

"Weather I'm here for my sister is for me to know and you to find out.." He said, taking the blouse from her. She laughed lightly, wondering what he was going to do next. He was a very interesting guy, and very... unpredictable? In a way she could tell this about him. He was so different from her, yet the same.
He shook her hand firmly, and she smiled as he introduced himself,"Calvin Booth... and the pleasure is all mine I assure you... " he said as he hung the robe neatly over the wrack. "as for my facade being impressive I strongly doubt that.." he began as he folded his arms over his chest casually. "if it was that impressive you wouldn't have seen through it..." He said, and she laughed and shrugged," Well, that's true, but I do pride myself on being a fairly quick-witted woman, though it was a valiant effort," She teased. She was trying to keep her guard up, like she always did, but it was hard with him. There was something about him that made her want to put down that wall of self-defense she so heavily enforced.
He handed the blouse to the woman behind the desk, and Scarlett gave him a look that said, ' what are you doing?' He already admitted that his game was up, but he was purchasing the shirt anyway. She waited for what he would do, and he turned back to her, "It was a pleasure to meet you..." He said, handing her the bag with the shirt in it, and walked away. She looked at him dumbfounded, and tried to regain composure. She looked down at the receipt, "You're right.. I don't have a sister.. I hope you like the blouse- Calvin Booth it said, and she smiled. Looking up to see where he had gone. He was stepping outside the door when she caught his arm, pulling him to the side of the sidewalk where they wouldn't get jostled." That... was very sweet," She said, a small, admiring smile on her face. " But I can't let you give this to me," She said then added, " Without me treating you to dinner to repay you," She said, with a teasing smile. "What do you say?"

angelofthenight

12-04-2008, 12:36 AM

Calvin Booth

Calvin was rather pleased with himself as he walked out of the store. Even though over a hundred dollars had been taken off his credit car he coudlnt' help but be happy at what he'd done. He could imagine the shocked look on Scarlett's face when eh handed her the bag and it actually sunk in that he had bought the blouse for her. The fact that she'd picked it out and he kenw she woudl ike it made the fact allt he sweeter and he shoved his hands into his pockets and he began to whistle a random song that was a rather cheery tune. He was pretty confident that Scarlett would call him soon if she didn't try to catch him before he got to far away from the store. He wonderef vaguely if he was being rash. Just because he'd seen the way Jean had declared hsi love for Rebecca.. was he just getting desperate? He didn't know anymore what he was going to do about his feelings for Rebecca but he could see that Jean made her happy.. and he wasn't about to stop that from happening.. he knew that Jean was a good guy.. now matter how bitterly he admitted it.. and so he figured it was best to do something to geth is mind off the woman he loved... by trying to find someone else...

When he heard the door open he stopped walking and turned around to see Scarlett walking towards him. She walked ot him and grabbed his arm. He was surprised how his arm began to tingle slightly where her hand touched it and he walked with her willingly out of the way so they wouldn't be interrupted or get in anyone's way. "That... was very sweet," she said rather bluntly.. and he smield.. very glad that she thought so. He was sure that some women would thin it was to over confident.. complaining he'd put the number on the reciet because he'd been certin they woudl call.. so for her to say it was sweet he was quiet relieved. An admiring smile covered her features and he coudln't keep the smile on his face from widening as he took a step closer to her so she wouldn't have to talk over the hustle and bustle of the people around them. He coudl feel people staring at them and he wodnered if they were simply curious or if they thought maybe the woman would need help.. he knew he wasn't exaclty one of those people you wanted to meet in a dark alley before the most part he was warm and friendly with an open mind and inviting disposition.

" But I can't let you give this to me," She said and he quirked a brow at her, wondering what she had in mind then. He hoped she ddin't want to buy him that was somethign just as expensive. " Without me treating you to dinner to repay you," She said, with a teasing smile and he was rather surprised. He didn't want her to pay for him to go to dinner.. but if she wanted to he didn't maind that they go dutch.. she coudl pay for his half.. he would pay for hers.. but for whatever reason he had a problem with her buying both of them dinner all on her own. "What do you say?" she asked and he smiled slightly. "I say I don't want you repying me by buying us both dinner.." he saw the look in her eye and raised a hand to keep her form talking. "I want to pay for your half of the meal.. and you can pay for mine if you really want to..." he said wtih a teasing smile of his own. He looked thoughtful for a moment, trying to think what time woudl be best for him to go to dinner. "Does tomorrow at seven sound good?" he asked then with a smile added. "and should I dress ncie.. or are we going casual?" he asked curiously.. as long as she let him pay for her half of the meal.. Calvin was up for anything.

inside your mind15

12-04-2008, 02:12 AM

Scarlett Beaumont

Scarlett couldn't believe how she was acting. She never asked if she could take a man to dinner, and she would have normally never even followed him out of the store. She couldn't tell if this was a good or bad omen, but it was said and done, and she couldn't take it back.
I say I don't want you repaying me by buying us both dinner.." he saw the look in her eye and raised a hand to keep her from talking. "I want to pay for your half of the meal.. and you can pay for mine if you really want to..." He said, and Scarlett nodded," Sounds like a fair agreement," She replied. It was very gentlemanly of him to do that, and Scarlett respected that. It seems that chivalry wasn't dead, or at least not in Calvin Booth.
"Does tomorrow at seven sound good?" He said, and Scarlett nodded again in reply, and he added, "and should I dress nice.. or are we going casual?" He said, and Scarlett pondered the notion a moment. She then decided that a casual dinner would be best for a first date. It came as a shock wave of realization that she had accepted a date." Yes, seven sounds fine, and I was thinking casual," She said, she looked down at her watch. Rebecca must have had something come up." So, I'll call you about the place, and I'm sorry, but I've really gotta run," She said, noticing she had to get ready for practice in an hour." Call you tonight with the rest of the details!" She said hurrying away from Calvin.

angelofthenight

12-04-2008, 04:02 AM

Calvin Booth

He was going on a date. It was a strange thing to think about since he hadn't been on an official date for almsot five years. Yet he coudlnt' help but feel good about the idea.. it felt nice to be going on a date again.. to get to know someone new and he codulnt' help but smile slightly as she offered to pay for him becasue he'd bought her the expensive blosue. He thought for a moment and then shrugged telling her that he woudl love to go on the condition that he pay for her half and she coudl pay for his. He was certain that she wouldn't appreciate it if he offered ot pay for all of it when she saw it as a way to pay him back. He folded his arms and gazed at Scarlett for a moment. Her brown locks were pulled off her face though a few strands dangled agaisnt her neck, dancing tantalizingly agasint her fac eand he itched to brush the strans off but he restrained and kept his hands stuffed into his pocket, digging them even deeper into his pockets so he could keep his hands still. It was an involuntary subconscious thing but he didnt' want to do anything wrong... he wanted all of this to go well.. he wanted to take his time in getting to know Scarlett.. he didn't want to rush anything.

"Sounds like a fair agreement," she mused and he smield as well. He asked her if he needed to dress nice or if tomorrow at seven was good. I twas the only day that he wasn't doing something. Either he was working wtih Rebecca or he was working late at the Opera House... he coudl only hope that she agreed. He smield when she nodded and he then asked if she wanted him to dress nice or if they were just going to go casual. She looked thoughtful for a moment and he waited patiently while she mulled over the options in her head. "Yes, seven sounds fine, and I was thinking casual," She said, she looked down at her watch and he wonderef is eh needed to be somewhere. He was glad it was casual.. it was better on first dates to feel comfortable rather then try to meet up the expecations of dressing rformal. " So, I'll call you about the place, and I'm sorry, but I've really gotta run," She said, noticing and he smiled charmingly at her. "Alright well it was a pleasure to meet you and I"ll see you tomorrow then.." he said wiht his classic boyish grin that he always used when he excited about something. ." Call you tonight with the rest of the details!" she yellled as she hurried down the street in the opposite direction then he woudl be going. "I'll be looking forward to it!" he called after her and then turend on hs helels and headed down the street back to his apartment, rather excited ot see Scarlett tomorrow.

OOC: End of scene. BIC:

angelofthenight

08-20-2009, 06:12 AM

OOC: For Ella. Here's the song (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XT-SFhh8JYs) hope you like it. BIC:

Kypton West

It was raining. Great. Just great. Typically Kypton loved the rain. He found it refreshing, like it washed everything clean. Not this particular storm though. He'd sat under the awning of a cafe for the past hour, already soaked to the bone and freezing. He'd woken up tot he storm early that morning and when he'd started to look for his jacket he couldn't find it. He grumbled to himself about how he must have left it somewhere and then he grabbed the blanket that he normally slept it and wrapped himself in it as he set out for breakfast. Finding a place that wasn't completely packed in the morning on a rainy day in Paris was like finding a needle in a haystack. He finally settled on a small cafe, got a bagel and small coffee. He'd sat outside and sipped the warm coffee and eaten the blue berry bagel as people had rushed by with umbrellas on their way to work or window shopping. Kypton had planned to walk over to one of the nicer and more frequented parks about five miles away but in the storm he knew he wasn't going anywhere. He recalled telling Reese how he never made plans because he knew that plans could be foiled so he simply took the hour as they came... and that was exactly what he would do that day too.

Kypton now sat under the awning just outside a rather nice boutique. He'd tried to dry his clothes three times already but it seemed that he was going to be wet all day and after a couple of hours of shivering from being so cold he finally realized that he wasn't going to be able to warm up until the storm past. He just wished he had his jacket. Not that the jacket made a huge difference since there was a hole in the shoulder and had no hood but Kypton wasn't one to complain over the things that he had. There were a lot of things he didn't have. He knew that was one thing the streets did for you. They made you grateful for the things you had in your life and Kypton was grateful for all the little things he had, even the thin blanket that had long since soaked through and was really no use to him. He had stopped shivering some time ago and there were more people wandering around since the storm had started letting up. He was confident that by the peak of the hour the rain would have ceased and Kypton could do what he'd planned to do all morning long.. and that was sing a new song he'd written of late. He really hated trying out his new songs without a piano to hear the melody but he was to far from the Opera House to make a trek over there and he never took a cab so he was stuck singing for an audience that only listened to him in passing.

Finally the rain let up and Kypton, who had been sitting with his feet propped up on a small table got up, moving over the a bench he slipped his small knapsack under the bench that contained blue prints and scores. He ran a hand through his hair that was plastered to his head from the rain and wiped his eyes that were sore and red from all the rubbing he'd done in the past couple of hours. He walked a couple of yards away from the bench after having set it up so that it was open, that way people could drop money in it as they passed. Kypton had learned the convenience was the best way to go. If you didn't give people a place to put the spare change and sparse cash they wanted to give you then they weren't likely to give it to you. Kypton made sure it was wide open... easily accessible and easily seen so people would know that that was exactly what the bag was for. He slipped some loose change that he had in his pockets into the bag... if people thought that they weren't the only ones that gave money to him then that made them more inclined as well.. people did not want to stand out and if the knapsack was empty typically people were to afraid to be the first to put money in it. Kypton watched a couple pass by and then once they were gone he softly began to sing, the introduction beginning with vibrato filled rift that he knew would sound better with music.

I can't understand it
The search for an answer is met with a darker day
And we've been handed these moments forever
But i'm reassured there's another way

You don't have to close your eyes
There is room for love again
Ease the pain to realize all that love can be
Forced apart by time and sand
Take a step and take my hand
And don't let it go
Never let go

Broken, once connected
We were so strong and so blessed in a simple way
So don't let me go it alone

Turn your head up to the sky
Nothing down below but me
Face the truth to realize all that we could be
Torn apart by rage and fear
Hold on to what brought you here
Don't let it go
Never let go

He liked the vibrato in the song... the different way that it challenged his voice. Though it wasn't nearly as long as it felt he felt empowered when he finished and when he was done he stood there, thanking everyone he could that put money in to the small knapsack, shaking hands and saying a brief 'thank you' or 'God bless you' accompanied with a smile. He was sure he looked like a wreck and was in desperate need of a shower and change of clothes. Unfortunately both pairs of clothes that were in his possession had gotten soaking wet.. one that had been left hanging out last night to dry after washing them and the jeans and t-shirt he had now. He had sat down on the edge of the bench long after people had left. He lifted the knapsack to count the money from it.. not that it really mattered he just wanted to know how well he projected he would do throughout the day. One could usually tell after the first round just how generous people were feeling. He counted at least fifteen euros which wasn't bad for a rainy morning in Paris, though his highest had once been forty-five standing in the Bois. He let out a breath and was surprised to look up and see a wad of euros sitting on the bench... at least forty. He looked up to see someone he didn't expect standing there... and was even more surprised to see that they were wearing his jacket. "What are you doing here?" he asked, unable to hide a smile as he looked up at the unexpected visitor.

Hidden Away

08-27-2009, 01:06 AM

OOC:So I was planning on putting this up a few days ago, but I was outta the house sooo SOUWI! BIC:

Gabrielle Muley

She sat down near a fountain and later she walked around from sitting still for too long. She was just really anxious. There was no other way for her to be able to see him again until next month. She was going to write a few more improvisation bases for the next few weeks. Maybe he’s not here today… But she was wrong. Just a few eye glances down to the right he was there walking around. Gabrielle was warned that he never stayed in one place, but she was determined to get back his jacket. She just felt a bit weird having it. She saw him sit down as he got himself situated. She felt heaviness in her heart as she watched him. Despair for herself? She didn’t want to feel that way because she knew that how Kip didn’t want people to feel or live his life. When did that matter? She had to smile and giggle inside at herself. He had impacted her life so quickly, but just as quickly as he did so easily it could go away. She only knew him from that one conversation, and yet she felt so connected to him already. It was silly. It was the unfamiliar openness that had lead her to laughing to herself. It was like she met someone exactly like her, but then again it was someone she didn’t know at all. It was like she didn’t know herself at all. She knew they could relate in ways, but she just didn’t know herself well, so that could mean that she couldn’t easily understand him as he could for her. It didn’t make sense, but Gabrielle was determined to make sense out of it. It could be possible, and she knew herself a bit…that was a small step toward self understanding. Perhaps later in life she’ll find out more about herself with help from people she’ll met on the way.

She had walked over to the small group of lingering people that had circled a bit around him to listen. People were dropping coins and Euros for him and she could smile and feel nothing but happiness for him. It’s what he wanted to do…she could see it in his eyes.

I can't understand it
The search for an answer is met with a darker day
And we've been handed these moments forever
But i'm reassured there's another way

You don't have to close your eyes
There is room for love again
Ease the pain to realize all that love can be
Forced apart by time and sand
Take a step and take my hand
And don't let it go
Never let go

Broken, once connected
We were so strong and so blessed in a simple way
So don't let me go it alone
Turn your head up to the sky
Nothing down below but me
Face the truth to realize all that we could be
Torn apart by rage and fear
Hold on to what brought you here
Don't let it go
Never let go

His voice was of an angel’s; his expression showed his passion and his joy he has while singing. Ella couldn’t help but smile from how happy he looked. She liked to see him happy…he seemed to have let everything go and only feel and sing the words that came from his soul. He was powerful. His story was conveyed in the most moving way. He held this connection from his voice to anyone’s attention. It was a deep cut into Ella’s soul…she had never seen anyone pouring their heart into anything like Kip did for his music. It was his gem. His story that he could tell to the world…it was his legacy. Something he could share with anyone and he could change their life. He’s already changed Ella’s mind about the world around her. His world was at ease and pure. She wondered if he never was stressed or depressed, if so she couldn’t tell.

Never had she had a passion so strong for anything. She obviously was assuming his passion for music, but how can you not when you could see it in his eyes. Everything she did was either for her parents’ joy or for her way to pass the time and days. Music was something she enjoyed but did she really enjoy it enough to have a living on it for the rest of her life? Maybe not, but what else could she go to? This made her feel slightly insecure about her future, but since when did she ever feel stable? She didn’t know what she would do for the rest of her life. She enjoyed being in the background in life and in her career. Down in the orchestra pit no one really knows your there, they just feel and hear the music. If one’s career showed how they added to life, then Gabrielle was someone who watched from the sidelines and would bring out the best in someone’s experience by adding the small details that made things just perfect.

He finished his song and the small crowd thinned out. He was counting his money Gabrielle was excited to talk to him again. Rolling her eyes at herself, she walked up slowly and made a small scuff noise with her shoes to attract his attention. He didn’t seem to notice. Giving up on trying to get his attention she slowly put down the €65 beside she was ready to walk away when she forgot about the jacket. Turning back, she saw that he had heard her few steps walking away. “What are you doing here?”

Ella could easily say something quick but she wanted to say something adorable, flirting? No, “Well then I see you don’t want your jacket back. I was comfortable with it anyway.” She had a small smirk on her face and she started to giggle as she fake an exit. She looked over her shoulder and couldn’t hold back a smile, “Can I sit?” she gestured to the seat next to him. Usually she would say, May, she just felt comfortable.

angelofthenight

08-27-2009, 02:59 AM

Kypton West

He hadn't seen Ella for a good week. Not that he'd forgotten their little meeting though. He had a pretty good memory for faces and int his case he could even describe exactly what Ella had been wearing when he'd met her. He tried not to think about how weird that sounded. The slight embarrassment that filled him at the thought of her ever finding out just how much she'd crossed his mind since he'd met her caused a slight flush to come over his cheeks and he bent his head over the money he'd been counting hoping that she wouldn't notice. He'd never really had a girlfriend and he really wasn't completely at ease with women. Sure he could be witty and make them laugh, if he was lucky it came off as flirting to them. The problem was the more he liked the girl the harder it was for him to say what was on his mind or even be himself. There had been numerous girls that he'd met in his travels that had asked him on a 'date', if eating tacos on some pier in a Spanish harbor counted as a date. He knew that he was a dork when it came to expressing any sort of feelings to a girl. When he meant to say 'I like you' it came out more as 'I enjoy spending time with you' or 'We need to hang out more' he kept it casual... it was always casual with him.

Kypton's biggest problem was with the dreaded 'L' word. Anyone talking to him and asking him questions about it might think that he viewed it as a curse. That really wasn't it at all he was just very reserved with his feeling sand say that you loved someone was a big deal. He knew that a lot of women he'd spent time with didn't understand that. They couldn't see how a soulful passionate song writer who wrote many a song about a love and passion couldn't express it in his own personal relationships. Maybe that was one of the reasons he was still roaming aimlessly and he knew that he didn't have a girl waiting for him anywhere in the world. He hoped that he didn't make a fool of himself now. He just had to keep his wits about him. He wouldn't let Ella see the admiration that he felt when he looked at her. He didn't want her to know that every minute he hadn't spent writing music or drawing a scale model of a bridge had been spent dwelling on their brief encounter on the roof... and a lot of the thoughts of her centered on the one question... would he ever see her again? She had his jacket and he hoped that she would feel like returning, not because he wanted the jacket, he did, but mainly because he desperately wanted to see her again.

He could feel her standing there. He knew her presence almost instantly even before he looked up to see just who it was that had been generous enough to throw forty euros on the bench beside him. He looked up and a smile that he couldn't restrain in the slightest pulled at the corners of his mouth. She stood there, in his jacket that was probably at least two sizes to big for her. She'd rolled back the sleeves and he had to admit that she looked cute in it. Her hair hung loosely around her shoulder and he dark brown eyes looked simply captivating with the slight twinkle they held. He was enthralled by everything about her... what drew him in even more was the way she seemed to look at him. He could tell she was at ease. There were little movements that she made. She seemed to stand slightly less erect, the muscles around her mouth seemed to relax despite the fact that she was smiling just as broadly at him as he was at her. He was no longer paying attention to the people that milled around him like he would any other times.. observing them and waiting for the right opportunity to being singing another song... this time he was completely focused on Ella...

She looked as if she want sure what to say so he asked her what it was she was doing there. He was sure he already knew but it made for a good conversation starter and he was pleased to see that it seemed to set her at ease. “Well then I see you don’t want your jacket back. I was comfortable with it anyway.” She teased and turned her back to him as if to walk away. As she did so he had to resist the temptation to reach out and grab her hand and pull her to him so that she would stay there. Part of him knew that she wasn't leaving but his desire to keep her close, wherever it stemmed from, was stronger then any reasoning his mind could conjure. Thankfully, just when he was about to give in she turned around once more, a sly playful smirk on her face. It was just as captivating as the look she'd been wearing earlier. He felt as if his mouth was hanging open but he knew he still wore that smile that was now plastered to his face and probably wouldnt' go away until she left him again. “Can I sit?” she asked and he hadn't known that three simple words could make him feel so utterly elated.. he wouldnt' have to ask her to stay... she wanted to say... it was more then he could have dreamed of moments ago.

He cleared his throat, trying to find his voice, not wanting to look like some kind of stuttering fool he answered, easily, smoothly and with a facetious edge. "That all depends... I usually don't let people who steal my jacket sit with me..." he teased but even as he spoke he was moving his things out of the way so she could sit beside him. "But I suppose I can make an exception just this once..." he said with a sigh, almost as if he was giving something up. He set his portfolio of scores on the ground and pushed them under the bench with his foot, out of the way. He looked down at the euros that she'd given him and he slowly placed them back in her hand, ignoring the fact that his fingers tingled with they brushed her palm. "I can't take your money Ella..." he said seriously then tried to smile to dispel the rather sober attitude of his words. "If you really want to make it up to me for stealing my jacket you can let me take you somewhere for lunch..." he said, noting that it would be more of a brunch if they went somewhere to eat. He couldn't help staring at Ella and he desperately hoped it didn't make her uncomfortable... more then that he hoped and prayed that he didn't make some kind of fool of himself... especially because he'd realized that he liked Ella a lot.

Hidden Away

08-30-2009, 12:32 AM

Gabrielle Muley

She had only realized moments ago that she had missed Kip. He was something that could not easily go away. She realized this when she heard his voice ringing in her ear. It made her smile inside and almost hate herself. His smile then brought back that feeling that made her become herself; she felt outgoing and unique. Well perhaps she felt like what she wanted to be. It made her happy nonetheless. It was that same thing that she knew that could be easily lost just as quickly as it came. She stood there and honestly didn’t know what to say. There were many things that she could have said logically. Well, maybe not that many, but she could have said, ‘Aucune de vos affaires ...’ with a playful tone. Learning languages was a good things I suppose… Actually, it would have been pretty silly to say that it was none of his business...it was his jacket she forgot to return. It would have stopped the conversation anyways. She was happy that her witty side was sinking in that morning…What witty side? Gabby tended to think herself one way and then know herself the other. Either it helped her or just contradicted everything she did. At least she had some humor…either that, or she would have sat there and said blindly, ‘I haven’t the slightest idea…’ with a red face. Those words wouldn’t help at all. She really wanted to make him smile...something. Pure stupidity! She knew that she was making a fool of herself, she just wanted to somehow impress him. The more that she thought about her actions, the more she became less of herself and more of a robot that did what her mind wanted her to do…not what her heart said.

Turning away from him, even for that split second, made her wondered what he thought or did. What did he think about when she was turned away…when she was not looking? When she finally looked back, she saw his smile: cute in its own way, attractive…it made her smile. After asking if she could sit, she could have taken moments to laugh inside. "That all depends... I usually don't let people who steal my jacket sit with me..." He was disagreeing with her request, but yet at the same time he was making room for her just as a way to contradict what he said. It was something about him that made him unforgettable. His sarcasm was something that she could have mistaken as the real thing. Gabrielle has always had a hard time understanding sarcasm. She first encountered the unique form of joking around during her mother's High School Reunion. Since she didn’t have a chance of staying home alone, she had to stay in the hotel with her auntie, Naomi. Perhaps Naomi was a woman of jokes or she was just too sarcastic. She took joy in making Gabrielle’s head spin with confusion, perhaps. The entire night she sat down and wrote poetry about confusion…it just made her head twist even more, but it was the only thing on her mind. When it was time for her to leave, for once she didn’t hesitate to run out the door to her parents. Slowly she’s getting better with fitting in with that type of humor, but her sarcasm has been easily confused as her being serious. It always made her feel out of place when she even tried to be sarcastic. It just wasn’t her way of joking around.

She was brought back to the present when she heard his voice: gentle and still, “ I can't take your money Ella...” It made her heart go still. She felt quite embarrassed: one, for feeling his fingers against her palm and still failing to resist her face from turning red, and second, for…something…for almost no reason actually. It was just for her own purpose. It was something she couldn’t understand why it made her embarrassed. She felt her face warm along with the humidity of the morning’s rain. She felt the money in her hands. She remembered all of her life that she didn’t have to worry about starving, but yet she took it for granted when she always didn’t want to eat anything and almost grew into the loop of Anorexia. She didn’t have to worry about not having clothes on her back, but she didn’t buy clothes when she needed them. She used to wear a shirt once or twice and then she would give it away to a classmate or someone. She took it all for granted. She then saw her heart as poor in kindness, understanding, and mercy. It was pathetic. She went through her entire life spoiled pretty much. Many people didn’t know that some spoiled people didn’t even know they were spoiled to begin with...that's how Gabrielle's life went. Gabrielle didn’t want to be known as that, but she didn’t know until now. Her parents had never told her how blessed she was to have such a high lifestyle—especially in India. It seemed there were two classes only, high and low. Here she was on her own and making it by herself...even without those monthly deposits in her banking account. How did they ever find my password… She hasn't touched that account since she found out that they made deposits for her.

They never trusted Gabby with herself. Never. It just seemed like they thought no one could take care of her better than them…even herself…it was overly protective of them, "If you really want to make it up to me for stealing my jacket you can let me take you somewhere for lunch..." Usually his smile would make her heart brighten and let light shine brighter…but for some reason she felt blank. A small look of dark and bitter concern crossed her face. Her mind was so still she could feel her lungs expanding and contracting. Her eyes softened as she looked back up to the sky. She watched each beautiful cloud pass by slowly as the small breeze pressed on and moved each one on its way. It made her mind go slightly blank and she just wanted to know what it would be like to stay up there…what would it be like to stay up there and do nothing? She could barely think at the moment she just…wondered…analyzed what she saw. How can some people pass the day and not notice what beauty this Earth has to offer. Around the world, people are concentrated about everything but peace and serenity. Everyone's heart was in a rush perhaps. She wished that people could just take a breath once in a while and forget about the world and thinking about how they are doing. The sun began to peak past the dark clouds that had turned the skies to gray…it was uplifting, but some burden stayed with her the entire time. After gazing for too long, her soften eyes began to stay stuck there. Ignoring it and not trying to change her gaze she looked up to the sky again; she knew that she had left Kip in the conversation, but she didn’t know what to tell him. She, her mind and her heart were empty, she felt the need to speak despite her feelings, "I see...well since you won't take what I gave you will you at least take 20 Euros? I don't see how taking me to lunch is a way for me to repay you..." she found it sweet of him, but she never understood that method of barter. Men...was there was more than meets the eye?

angelofthenight

08-30-2009, 01:18 AM

Kypton West

Kypton had never really had time for a girlfriend. Sure he'd had plenty of girls that were good friends and on occasion he'd even flirted with them. In relationships though he found one of his numerous flaws. He was not someone that went after things. Ambitious though he might be with his music and his drawings when it came to women he was not the one who took the step into the relationship. Rarely the one to take initiative he usually stood back and waited for the girl to come straight out and tell him that she liked him or that she wanted to go to a dance with him. Not that he even had time for anything like that. His mother kept his schedule so tight that he couldn't even think about being a normal kid or going to a dance for that matter. When he didn't have school he had practice for church choir, the community musical, his drama class's next production. If he wasn't at those then he was at singing lessons, piano lessons, or music theory classes. On top of that he had to do homework, memorize lines, memorize pieces for festivals and auditions and help his parents around the house when they needed it... there was no time.. for anything that Kypton wanted to do.

Now he had all the time in the world. He'd had all the time in the world for the past thirteen years. At first he hadn't known what to do with himself. Then he'd started to write music and learn language after language. Absorbing all the knowledge he could get his hands on. Not one to lay around he walked an average of fifteen miles a day simply going from one place to the other. He'd met so many people in his longs treks across cities. Some were amiable and friendly others acted nice enough but when they got Kypton alone they were the first to jump him and take everything he was carrying with him. Kypton had learned very quickly that he didn't want to trust people right off the bat and typically he was wary of people but this had been an exception. From the moment he'd met Ella he'd been captivated by her. Everything about her tantalized him and made him want to learn more about her. She seemed genuinely interested in who he was and what his likes, dislikes, hopes and dreams. In return it made him want to know the same things about her. Sitting there now he was genuinely concerned for her. Wanting to know if she'd walked all the way here of if she'd had to pay for a taxi... most of all he wanted to tell her how glad he was to see her.

When she pretended to leave he wanted to reach out and grab her and pull her to him but he restrained himself. Then she asked him if she could sit and he said that he normally didn't let people who stole his jacket sit with him but for her he could make an exception and even as he spoke he was clearing off a place for her right next to him. She sat down and his hand resting in his lap twitched, aching to touch her. He gave her back her money, telling her that he couldn't take it. He would feel horrible if he took her money. Instead he asked if she would allow him to take her to lunch. Not that it would be very extravagant or anything like that but it was a way to thank her for bringing his jacket back. He knew that the invitation, or more the request could be taken as a date. He didn't want her to think that he was coming on to her or that he considered their relationship to be anything more then a friendship... though as he looked at her he couldnt' help wondering that maybe he wanted it to be more then just some platonic relationship like he had with Reese... he felt no brotherly feelings toward... everything that overtook him when he gazed into her eyes was anything but platonic... he just wished he could understand it.

She turned her gaze away from him and it made Kypton wonder what she was thinking. She seemed more interested in the clouds that were floating drifting lazily through the sky. Kypton wanted to turn her face towards him but instead he adjusted the collar of his shirt and it was then that he became aware of how unkempt and dirty he must look. When she finally looked at him he felt his heart skip a beat.. his palms suddenly felt clammy and he was glad that he'd already put his port folio no the ground because he was certain that if he'd still been holding it he would have dropped it. "I see...well since you won't take what I gave you will you at least take 20 Euros? I don't see how taking me to lunch is a way for me to repay you..." she said obviously confused and Kypton smiled, he'd expected such a reaction from her. He thought about what she'd said. Why was she so determined to give him money. It almost disgusted him. Did she pity him? Think that he would be starving otherwise? He tried not to take it to heart though... Ella was a giving soul... he was certain that if she saw anyone on the street in need of money she wouldn't hesitate to give them what they needed... he was something that drew him to her... something that made him like her all the more.

He opened his hand and allowed her to put half the stack of euros into his hand that she'd originally given him. He closed his fingers around it and stared at the wad of money for a moment before he smiled and grabbing her hand he stood up. "Come on... if you're going to give me the money I'm going to spend it on you..." he said, still aware of the fact that he was holding her hand by the shiver that were shooting up his arm and the way his heart seemed to be out of control. He saw her questioning look and laughed. "Everyone who's anyone loves ice cream.. and I know just the place..." she said and led her down the sidewalk. They reached a vendor with an umbrella above it and he smiled at the man. He was a frequent visitor considering the fact that ice cream was his indulgence. "Two strawberry cones..." he said, there was nothing better then the classics in Kypton's opinion. He handed Ella her ice cream cone, ignoring any protests she may have said and then released her hand, only then realizing that he'd been holding it the whole time. "I consider that money well spent..." he told her as they walked back to the bench they'd been sitting on earlier. Once they'd sat back down he finally brought himself to speak. "I don't want you to pity me Ella..." he said seriously, his tone contradicting the sparkle in his eye... but he couldn't' help it... being with her, no matter what they were talking about, made him happy.

Hidden Away

09-05-2009, 03:25 AM

Gabrielle Muley

She sat there…thinking for a moment. Thoughts were wandering in their endless playground within Gabrielle’s mind as she tried to at least hold down one idea to dwell on. Perhaps she was over analyzing or one could call her obsessive compulsive, but she didn’t know why she had preconceptions about him. It just made her expect things, but everything he has done so far has been unexpected. Almost to the point that it aggravated her. She just wanted to tell him to stop toying around with her mind…she just needed a moment. She had always thought people to be predictable no matter what. She was wrong…well not really necessarily wrong, but just often. She was often wrong about having a normal life, she was often wrong about making the right friends, she was often wrong about something when she was talking to her parents. She only had academic matters correct…she was only right by the book. Never in life was she right…well, just often. There was such a drastic balance issues in her life, it just made her think that she could decipher anyone from their physical being…She thought she could piece apart a person and understand then, she was terrible mistaken.

When she masked her feelings Gabby felt so fake and rude. She just wanted to hide something or use something else to cover what she was hiding. She had realized that the entire time she had even seen or talked to him she could be herself. She didn’t have to hide something from him. She didn’t have to worry about the small things. Within moments thought, all of that was changed. Regardless, of emotions she gave back twenty Euros. She even ignored her fingers touching his…she couldn’t think playfully at the moment. She didn’t feel right getting money back that she had already given away. Giving it back was the only way she could resolve that. It just made her feel guilty. Perhaps because of her entire life she was dependent upon her parents and she knew that she could do so much more than just be a student that listens to only elders for no reason. She felt like a robot her entire life. Someone had to tell her what to do in order for anything to go right. She didn’t know what to say to cover her actions.

She was only trying to understand how she felt at the moment. She was always deceived by herself. She let herself be at ease too easily and how she felt shy and still and shocked. She let her guard down. She let her heart and soul wander too far. Not knowing how to change her mistakes, she looked at him and almost regretted coming today. Did she regret ever meeting him? That would be a cheap lie if she said yes. She should have been less willing and much more reserved, but she couldn’t help herself. She was tied into the vast argument that was having with herself. She couldn’t reason corrected. No matter what she did it would not stop pestering her. She could only let out a sigh which covered some of her aggravation, but not all of it. All of her complications were gone when he grabbed her hand. She didn’t expect it! She laughed a bit and didn’t know what to say. If she was just a bit more tired than she already was that morning she would have tripped when he first took her hand. "Come on... if you're going to give me the money I'm going to spend it on you..." She hadn’t realized that she was pulled off the bench. He had pulled to get ice cream. She could only smile. Once again—unpredictable were his actions. Gabrielle could not help but laugh and smile. He looked back at her and she could have stared forever. Where is he going? She had no idea, she could just question it all as she followed him. His hand was warm and it made her question herself. What was he being so nice? Gabrielle had many realization when she was around him and this was probably one of the hardest one to answer. Gabrielle has gone most of her life looked down upon, pitied, forgotten, or discriminated again. Classmates that had become foes to her over the years always knew her fears: darkness. They would lock her in the gym’s closet and she could be there for hours…even after school was over with. One time she was found sleeping and the time was almost midnight. There insults could torture her forever. Every word: a cold, harsh stab in the back and heart. It was like a slit in the throat. She couldn’t understand why she was treated this way. Eventually she thought of it as second nature…just as if the abuse was normal.
Ice Cream? A grin snuck up on her face. She had to admit her could read her mind almost perfectly. She had a comfort with him that made her forget the bad in life. It lead her to appreciate the great things life has to offer. Ice cream…she remembered that she would buy the small tubs in college and she would eat one every month as a way to relax, but it had to be a fruit, but there usually was cherry or, “Two strawberry cones…”…which was her favorite. He had brought her back to college it seemed like. Those were the years that she had felt most like herself. If only there were childhood days to contemplate on, those days that never existed…the ones she never could have. Gabby had the tendency to dwell on reoccurring thoughts…almost as if she dwelt upon everything. She always kept in mind that one has the choice to dwell on or leave behind a thought. She had to smile. Not that he hasn’t done so already, but never stopped making her smile: inside or out. There was so much to understand about a person from a few characteristics. Obviously not constant characteristics, nor can they be completely true, but you can try to guess. Guessing was alright, wasn’t it? Not to sound sneaky, but Ella’s had enough glances at his smile to not question, what goes on behind the smile? What kind of heart lured there? Every question was passing by at lightning speed. Closing her eyes she took a moment to clear her thoughts, but later shot her eyes open and finally aware of her surroundings. He had handed her one of the two cones and finally let go of her hand. She saw him take a step down the curb; taking a few napkins with her she followed him. She felt like a duckling walking behind him so she tried to catch up to his stride, but height affected her speed compared to his stride. She let out an exhale behind her closed mouth so it sounded like a small laugh. Finally having caught up to him near the bench, “I consider that money well spent…” She couldn’t agree more. He seemed silent for a while when they finally were situated back to the same bench. She realized she left her bag. There wasn’t anything to valuable except her only room key and her Turkish eye. Taking a quick glance she check for the two items; despite her small trust in herself she found herself to be right when she said she last left them in her bag. Perhaps the room key is the most important, but she would feel worse about losing the Turkish eye since it meant so much to her. Just like the Greeks, she felt unprotected without it; perhaps not as obsessed as the Greek or Turkish, but she held a fondness with it. And she still does. She was surprised she didn’t wear it today, but I guess it didn’t matter. It said to ward off all evil and bad thoughts towards the bearer. Superstition, but it made her feel safe and that’s all that she needed some times. She looked at him and he just held his glance at a distance for a moment then he spoke again, “I don’t want you to pity me, Ella….” She didn’t know how to reply. She knew that pity was a very degrading feeling and it made her feel bad when she was pitied by people. It hurt to know that people thought you were so unfortunate. She may have had a different life from Kip, but pity was pity…and that couldn’t change anything in life. He probably felt the same way…despite the fact that she think of anything, she just said what’s from her mind, “Kip…” she wanted for his attention and waited for clearer words to come to mind, “…if’ there’s anything I feel now it definitely is not pity. I know what that feels like and I never liked the way it made me feel. I felt almost worthless when people always had to say or do something they thought positive for me. I never liked having people cry for me…It doesn’t make a difference in my life when they complain for me. If you’re going to ask what I mean or what I’m feeling…then don’t ask now. Explaining is a story that needs the time allowed…I’d keep you here for days probably.” She forced a smile on her face and then looked down to the ground. The glare was shining in her eyes. The clouds were opening slowly to reveal the sun’s light.

She felt awakened in a reckless way. Ella had a weak heart from the beginning. She couldn’t handle pressure well. How did she get out of college fine? She still had no idea, but this conversation made her slightly up tight. It was almost like a phobia of embarrassment. She felt like she was put on the spot. She twiddled her fingers and tried to forget about it. Once again she wanted to hide how she was feeling. This was all different, but why? How? She felt at ease only moments ago, now she just wanted to hide everything from him. She looked into his eyes and saw a gleam. Did it mean he was at ease? She wanted to know. The silence was heard to bare after that…it was awkward or disturbing, but it wanted to hear his talk again. Actually she wanted to hear him sing again. She was about to reach down to find some of his music sheets, but some ice cream had dripped and melted on her jeans. Glad she had taken a few napkins with her, she wiped away the obvious drips. She saw that her jeans had small tears that were coming from so many years of being used. Almost eleven years of wear and tear. These were the exact pair that she used when she first left her home, on the airplane, and arriving in her first hotel alone. Turning her attention back to the tears of her jeans, they reminded her of tights’ runs from one small scratch. She had to buy some clothes since all of hers dated back from ten years back. Some clothes were running a bit tight since she was extremely bony as a teenager. On the other hand some clothes were so big she would have to pin them or clip them to stay on. Hand-me-downs were just so hard to deal with. There were probably a few clothes that still fit her…maybe these were her only jeans…Just one size up from ten years ago. In other words: she didn’t have clothes for work or herself. No issue for normal girls, but once again, but Gabby was not the typical girl. Problem was she hated shopping She took a moment and looked at the nearby boutique. I’m not looking forward to that… She decided that she was going to pass on it today. She just wanted to take the day slowly. So what if she was going to be confined to her room and the piano music just to write three improv pieces and then learn sixteen of her pieces by heart before rehearsals. She just wanted to get it over with. She just wanted to forget about it right now. She took the time to look at the cone as she made sure it wouldn’t drip too much again. “Is strawberry the choice of Kip today?” she laughed, but really…did he read her mind or is that something they have in common.

angelofthenight

09-05-2009, 07:11 AM

Kypton West

Kypton had always tried to find one thing in his life that made him happy in every situation. When he'd been going to three different rehearsals for three different plays in one week and having to memorize three different parts, two of which had been leads he'd tried to tell himself that he was sharpening his memory and that eventually he would only have to read over his lines once and then be able to recite them perfectly. It had been the only thing that had gotten him through the low points in his life. The first month he'd spent in Ireland hadn't exactly been pleasant. The man hadn't taken kindly to someone who wasn't working for their money and often he'd been harassed beat and threatened, claiming that he was trespassing in their town and that he needed to leave immediately. Kypton had simply tried to tell himself that it wouldn't get worse and then he'd trekked up into the hills and come across a lost lamb. When the shepard boy found him sitting with the lamb he offered to show Kypton where there rest of the flock was so that the baby could be returned to it's mother. Kypton walked with the boy a good three miles, Kypton had to admit he was amazed just how far the boy had trekked to find the lamb, before they reached the flock. Things had gotten better from there and that was one of the first times that he realized the power of positive thinking.

Not to sound like some kind of shrink or something but Kypton had read, and remembered obviously, that the power of positive thinking was a stronger force then more people thought. If you told yourself you couldn't do something then you were right. At least that was what Kypton remembered reading. In his travels he'd done a lot of reading and studying on his own. While he'd walked down unpaved roads he'd thought about what he read and studied coming to his own conclusions about things he'd realized that there were simple answers to complicated questions that people missed or overlooked because they didn't think something so simple could be the solution. Kypton had once argued with a group of college students that had been touring Spain on an issue of people being so wrapped up in themselves that they actually missed out on opportunities that could help them get gain rather then looking around them and noticing them. Kypton had managed to persuade one of the students and then when the kids had grown frustrated Kypton had simply smiled and walked away... leaving the issue for them to discuss on their own... Kypton believed that personal reflection was extremely important.

Everything in moderation of course though. Kypton found his mind wandering as he sat on the bench beside Ella and ate his ice cream cone. She was looking through her bag so he supposed that it wasn't that big of a deal but he still felt as if he were ignoring her because he was closing her out and focusing internally instead on what she was doing.. if she was talking to him he doubted he would have heard it. His mind drifted. He wondered what it was she was thinking. When he caught her looking at him and saw her turn away suddenly he thought he glimpsed a look of pity in her beautiful eyes and though he could be mistaken he still felt he slight frustration that overtook him whenever he realized that someone pitied him. He gazed at Ella and she seemed not to notice which was okay with him. He would lie if he said he wasn't completely comfortable around Ella but it wouldnt' be true if he said that he wanted to sit here and tell her everything about himself. There were some aspects of his past that he wasn't proud of... things that he'd done, that at the time he'd felt he had to do to survive... she didn't need to know about that stuff... he felt like he was caught in the entanglement of a web weaved of contradiction and constructed out of silence. He wasn't sure what way to go, how to free himself, or how to erase some of those contradictions.

Finally all he could say was that he didn't want her to pity him. It was the truth and when he thought of her feeling pity for him it made him practically sick. A moment of silence settled between them and Kypton waited for her to say something. She was obviously trying to gather her thoughts and Kypton let himself continue thinking about what he had before his thoughts were interrupted with. “Kip…” the sound of his name on her lips elicited an instant reaction and he looked up at her attentively... perhaps to attentively. “…if’ there’s anything I feel now it definitely is not pity. I know what that feels like and I never liked the way it made me feel. I felt almost worthless when people always had to say or do something they thought positive for me. I never liked having people cry for me…It doesn’t make a difference in my life when they complain for me. If you’re going to ask what I mean or what I’m feeling…then don’t ask now. Explaining is a story that needs the time allowed…I’d keep you here for days probably.” Kypton smiled at that and shrugged, letting her know thats he didn't need to tell him.. there was no need for an obligatory exchange... she tell something of herself so that he in turn would have to tell something about himself. He believed that things like that should come about in their own time... not by force.

He watched Ella as she focused on her ice cream cone more then him. As if it were a distraction from having to look at him. He smiled when she spilled a bit on her jeans and he moved to grab a napkin but by the time he'd done so she'd already grabbed some and was wiping it off her pants. Kypton subconsciously wiped at his own pants to make sure there was nothing on them. As she stowed the used napkins in a small compartment in her bag Kypton was glad for the chance to study her without interference. She seemed lost in thought over something and Kypton, who believed that a chance for some reflection was important, waited patiently for her to once again start up the conversation. He watched her look at the Boutique and the sky and the street. He watched her eyes scan sings of street names, shops and other various activities to do in the heart of Paris. “Is strawberry the choice of Kip today?” the question pulled him from his thoughts about what activities he and Ella could do if they ever got bored and the uncertain smiled that crossed his lips accompanied with the twitch of his mouth were the only things that showed Kypton's surprise at the question.

He chuckled softly at his own reaction and shrugged, a more relaxed smile coming across his face. There was nothing hard about the question, or personal really unless he chose to make it that way. "Actually it's my favorite... has been since I was little... " he explained with a shrug and a smile as he licked his ice cream cone. "It has been about five years since I've had an ice cream cone..." he explained to her as he licked it again, enjoying every single minute of the fruity luxury. He turned a bit toward her so that his knee was lightly brushing hers and then he spoke. "I hope it's alright..." he said with a smile, not wanting her to feel obligated to eat it just because he bought it with money that she had given him but he hadn't wanted to take int he first place. For some reason he felt like a puppy around her and he was certain that had he been a little furry critter he would be wagging his tail and looking pleadingly up at her, hoping that she was pleased. It was all he wanted to do was please her and make her smile. "Did you want to go in?" he asked, motioning to the boutique behind them that she'd been looking at. Though he wouldn't be able to afford anything he didn't mind tailing along if she wanted him there... it all depended on what she wanted to do.

Hidden Away

09-15-2009, 04:33 AM

OOC: I fail at being quick :( BIC:

Gabrielle Muley

She saw that he looked at her while she tried to understand why he could think that she was pitying him. She never was in such a place to do so. She almost felt a need to defend herself, but then she realized it would have been harsh what she would have said. She never was mad at him she just didn’t understand how people could assume something about her thinking when she hasn’t even said anything. She would speak her mind if she felt that she should clarify or she would have spoken her mind. She did but much more benignant. While she said what she had to say, she felt relief slowly release from her chest. She looked at him and couldn’t help but be honest with her words. His gaze was attentive and it made her feel like what she had to say was important. It was something she hasn’t felt since she had last seen Nessa in the parlor for the last time before she was going to go back to India. Then Nessa mysteriously left to Ireland and she never could find her again. Nevertheless she still remembered everything she has learned from Nessa. Slowly in that time she was easily troubled. She had the tendency to build up stress in her wind pipes to the point she forgot she was barely breathing. It was bad for her in general and singing wise, but you know, she had those habits like everyone else. Thinking back at it would have not helped if she even said sternly her feelings towards Kip. Besides, he hasn’t done anything to deserve the dark side of Gabrielle. No, she could disagree by heart, but she knew that no one deserved that. She just had to let go of her grudges more often. Thinking of something to say she had to just ask what was on her mind. Strawberry…he could read my mind.

"Actually it's my favorite... has been since I was little... It has been about five years since I've had an ice cream cone..." he smiled. He turned a bit more so he could be angled and he faced towards Gabby. This made her nervous is a good way, but she knew that she had blushed lightly when she felt his knees slightly brush hers, hopefully it would be obvious. She took this moment to look away from him as she pretended to look around at passing by people. As she was looking around and away from him she started to talk a bit. She felt bored from looking around she wanted to talk to him, but she couldn’t think about anything at all. She looked down at her legs and tucked her left ankle behind her right and moved them over to the side. Her knees moved and bumped into his. She had to laugh at herself. She just couldn’t relax, but she never had felt herself in so long. She couldn’t be this “Gabrielle” in so many years. In fact, she often found that she didn’t know who she was. It was sad, but her life. Perhaps she’ll have this huge break through later in the years. That’s the only problem, she only thought this would happen eventually, she had to do something to make it happen. She had to want it. She tried to push herself, but she couldn’t come to making it possible, “I hope it’s alright.” He looked at her for a moment and she couldn’t help but look back. Hopefully her eyes weren’t too tense. Her eyes were hurting this morning from the contacts. They were now this hazel, dark brown mix. Not too far away from her original color, but there probably was a difference…of course Kip wouldn’t be able to recognize the difference. Her could be unpredictable, but she wouldn’t’ be surprised if he didn’t see or notice that. She wanted to hint towards it, just to see what he thought. Did he like them? Did he think they were an ‘okay’ shade for her…did he think that they made her pretty? Stop it, Gabby… She hade to admit it…there was a list of questions burning in her. Wanting to hint towards her eyes? Was that a way for her to have a compliment? Flirting? Gabby rolled her eyes at herself as she giggled a bit. It seemed random and hopefully Kip wouldn’t call her “crazy”. Not that she would mind too much, but it would be something repetitive to bump into to. She had to admit her actions were silly, but they weren’t crazy. Her internal monologue broke, “Did you want to go in?”

No! Now Gabrielle had something else to laugh about. If there was anything Kip was going to know about her it would be that she didn’t really fancy shopping too much, but it was on that “I-have-to-do-this” list. She had put it off for ten years—going on eleven—so she thought that it was pretty sad that she did. “Do you want to? I don’t want to, but I have to.” She knew that a questionable look would come on his face…or something like that, but she didn’t have any other way to say it. She decided to save her embarrassment for later, “All of my clothes are either too big or too small and besides, I don’t think I have an all black orchestra outfit for upcoming season. I don’t intend on coming back here for one shopping trip.” Yes, yes, a girl that does not like shopping, but of course, like everything, there’s a first of something that we’ve all heard of. But all girl love shopping…, obviously you’ve never meet Gabrielle…

angelofthenight

09-15-2009, 05:19 AM

Kypton West

Kypton could be very submissive when he chose to be. He tended to lean more towards his naturally opinionated nature which naturally had led to quiet a few argument as a kid. Mostly what he was doing with his future. His parents had raised him to be polite and courteous to those older then him, weather it be a couple of years or a couple decades he was to treat them with respect and patience, as if they were always right. There were times, talking to his mother that he just couldn't restrain himself and he had to say something about how he didn't have time for a rehearsal or he would have to cut out of a choir practice early to make it to some science club that his science teachers had all encouraged him to join. When he brought it up his mother asked him if science would help him with a music scholarship. He would try to get technical about it and say that the calculations used to calculate the density of an object could be good practice for transposing base cleft in B flat to treble cleft in E flat or something like that but she would always cut him off and ask him again, then he would have no choice but so mutter a no and listen while she lectured him about the importance of music in his life... a passion that was literally being forced down his throat.

Even to this day he had the deepest respect for his mother and women in general. He'd always tried to be polite and respectful to them and treat them the way they deserved to be treated. His father liked to tell him stories to teach him to respect women and he told his oldest son a story once about how when he'd been praying on one particular Mother's Day he'd forgotten to thank God for his wife. He'd gone down the list and thanked the Almighty for his mother and hers, his sisters and hers, Aunts uncles sisters cousins... and after this long prayer was over everyone looked at him and then Kypton's mother got up and left the table. At first his father hadn't thought anything was wrong. That there was nothing to worry himself over but when he didn't speak to him all afternoon he realized his blunder and immediately tried to make amends. He went in front of everyone and openly announced that he'd forgotten to mention his beautiful wife int he prayer and then proceeded to toast her and all that she'd done for him and their little family. His father had told Kypton that from that all he needed to remember that whenever he got married and had to pray on Mother's Day, make sure he mentioned his wife first...

When Kypton caught Ella looking at the shop they were sitting in front of him he couldnt' help but grow curious. Did she want to go in? Most women would. They were in Paris and what was more the Boutiques had some of the greatest and most popular trends in the world at the moment. What woman wouldn't want to go in? Not that he had any money to buy her anything but the thought of watching her while she browsed the store and caught his eye every once in a while made him smile with complete and pure pleasure. That was creepy but to him it made perfect sense. Ella was a beautiful girl... woman. She had a grace about her that made Kypton's heart beat fast and his throat catch when she caught him looking at her for long periods of time. It wasn't something he couldn't seem to help and just like his feelings for Ella he couldn't' explain what made him stare at her. Was it the way she moved... so graceful and fluid that it almost appeared as if she were floating across the room rather then walking? Was it the way her eyes seemed to sparkle when she was amused or found something that pleased her? Was it the thoughtful expression that seemed to pass over her features when ever he said something? Maybe it was the way her mouth twitched slightly just before she smiled.. or maybe it was all of those things.

Ella seemed on the verge of laughing when he asked her if she wanted to go in and at first Kypton didn't understand why. He'd thought it was a completely legitimate question. He gave her a questioning look as a amused expression passed across her face and he wondered if she'd seen something funny... grateful when she spoke so he could understand what she found so completely hilarious. “I-have-to-do-this” she explained to him and Kypton raised an eyebrow at this... what kind of list? Like a list of things to do before she died? A bucket list or sorts. That was rather depressing. “Do you want to? I don’t want to, but I have to.” She added and Kypton glowered at that. It confused him just as much as her saying something about some list that she had to complete. It made him laugh but he still couldnt' mask his confusion over the whole thing. “All of my clothes are either too big or too small and besides, I don’t think I have an all black orchestra outfit for upcoming season. I don’t intend on coming back here for one shopping trip.” she explained and Kypton smiled. The necessity for clothes to fit was something he actually understood and he smiled to himself as he stood up off the bench.

He offered her his hand and when she took it they walked over to the store and he held the door open. The moment they crossed the threshold he immediately felt out of place with his worn out t-shirt and hole filled jeans that he'd had for over three years. It was a good thing he wasn't growing anymore. He caught Ella looking at him, as if making sure he wasn't going to just run out of the store and he strode with a rather exaggerated strut over to a rack of coats and pretended to look at them with interest. The sound of her muffled laughter as she tried to keep quiet as not to disturb other patrons made him smile. He lifted a hat off a hook and moved over to her, placing it on her head he immediately chuckled when it fell right over her eyes and she had to peek under the brim to look at him. "It's just your size mademoiselle..." He teased as he grabbed a matching scarf off a nearby shelf and wrapped it around her neck then holding her at arms length he gazed at her. "I think you should use that as your outfit for orchestra... all you're missing are some sunglasses..." he said and made a move to grab them and when he put them on her he nodded his head like some photographer assessing a model was to take pictures of. "When's the performance..." he asked her as he moved away from her, not wanting her to get the idea to try clothes on him... making sure to keep her in front of him so she couldnt' sneak up behind him.

Hidden Away

09-16-2009, 03:13 AM

OOC: Yea it is short...*frown* BIC:

Gabrielle Muley

Taking his hand, Ella had a feeling of dread with every step towards the door. He held it open and she hesitated for a moment and she finally stepped in on her count of three. She looked at him for a moment. She wondered if he was the kind of guy that would just let a girl go in a boutique or something of the sort and just sit outside and wait. If he took her in here he was going to at least stay in with her and judge whether it looked alright or not. They both didn't really match with theme of the shop, instead they had tears in their jeans and some sort of shirt on. Simplicity was probably the most important thing when it came to Gabrielle fashion. It had to be five or less steps when changing: number one, the basics; number two a shirt; number three, pants or what ever bottom; four, shoes; five bag and if she had to a piece of jewelry. She normally wore earrings, but she took them off once in a while to avoid infections that were occasional ages ago.

It seemed that Kip would not have a problem with staying in the boutique with Gabrielle. It seemed that he wanted to help her find an orchestra outfit. He put a hat on her head that did not fit at all. It sunk over her forehead and she had to peer from under the brim to look at him and laugh. She had to hold back from laughing to heard, but it was worthy of a heartfelt laugh, "It's just your size mademoiselle...." he then put a scarf around her neck and then forced her arms out to the side. Her look of "going with the flow" was probably mistaken for her "I think this is really silly" face. I think you should use that as your outfit for orchestra...all you're missing are some sunglasses..." she closed her eyes as a habit when he put them on as a way to avoid being poked in the eye. Ella was laughing so hard inside she was silent laughing: it was all the facials of laughing without the sound. If Kip was going to come with her every time she was going to go shopping she was starting to become more acceptable to the activity. he seemed to be confused when she said that she didn't like it one bit, but perhaps she just didn't make sense in the first place. Not wanting to pull too much attention to her from other shoppers she decided to make a small head tilt that looked a bit model-like. "When is the performance..."

He moved away but he seemed like he was still listening. Walking over to another rack with a few shirts in various colors, Gabby tried to find a perfect match for some slacks, "I'm not sure, but it's sometime next month, and I'll have to stay confined to the piano room to work on a few songs and the pieces that are going to be performed. I can't even find time to write my own music, but nothing significant comes to me...not a huge break through or anything like that, you know." she smiled. She could care less about her own music. She has the rest of her life. When her career runs out here what else will she do? Write music of course.

angelofthenight

09-16-2009, 12:21 PM

Kypton West

How long had it been since he'd been in a store like this. He'd been to numerous cities that held stores like this it had been practically ages since he'd actually crossed the threshold and come inside to look at stuff. He'd never been very materialistic. He couldn't with the means in which he lived, though he'd learned that the hard way. He had to keep the look of sheer fascination off his face. Sure he'd grown up around stores like this but going into them had been a rarity for him, not that a fifteen year old kid really wanted to go into a Boutique in his spare time. Now however he seemed appreciated all the fine things in the store so much more then if he could actually afford any of it. He knew what it took to get stuff like this here, having boxed, wrapped, loaded it onto boats planes and trucks, to get the stuff here. He didn't know how it was made because he couldn't sew to save his life but he knew that there was a lot of time that went into it. A lot of customers just assumed that it floated on the wrack all the way from the factory or something like that but Kypton touched each piece of fabric with a kind of reverence that the manufacturers would appreciated... even if people thought it was strange.

The moment they entered the store though he seized the opportunity to tease Ella. He grabbed a hat that was way to big for her and put on her head. Then grabbing a scarf as she peeked under the brim of her hat to try and watch him he laughed and wrapped it around her neck. He decided that she should use that for her orchestra outfit since it was all black now all she needed was sunglasses which he found easily and when he put them on her he nodded his approval. He took the sunglasses off, deciding that it looked better without them and restrained himself from saying tat the sunglasses would make it so people couldn't see her beautiful eyes. He had to try not to stare as he moved away to put the sunglasses back. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as she removed the hat the scarf and put them back where he had got them. He smiled to himself, pleased that she wasn't one of those people who simply threw things back wherever they felt the desire to do so. He casually asked her when the performance was... not that he would be able to go since the management seemed to have an eye out for him around there now that they knew he was hanging around and plus he couldnt' afford a ticket anyway... he'd never been the type of homeless guy who sneaked into events or anything like that though some of them definitely took the opportunity to try.

He'd been pretending to look at ties and then looked up to see that Ella was looking at slacks in all different color. She was looking at him though and had missed the black slacks that were sitting right on the corner. He wanted to point them out but instead chose to wait until she noticed them herself.. wondering if she even would. "I'm not sure, but it's sometime next month, and I'll have to stay confined to the piano room to work on a few songs and the pieces that are going to be performed. I can't even find time to write my own music, but nothing significant comes to me...not a huge break through or anything like that, you know." she explained and he nodded. As a songwriter himself he knew that the muse couldn't be forced. It just had to come to you. He'd learned that really early on during one of his lessons when his voice coach had told him to write the first verse of a song, since he knew how to play the piano there had to be at least piano music in there... and then two lesson following he would have to perform it for him and be evaluated on how well he wrote his own music... to have not only a time frame but no prior knowledge of writing music he stubbornly chose not to do the assignment and dared the coach to do his worst.

Though he was certain that the managers wouldn't fire Ella if she didn't get a piece written for the performance, she made it sound like that wasn't a requirement he wondered what it was she would have to go over and over. Curious but not curious enough to ask he gradually drifted over to where she stood and laughed at the fact that she was still watching them. He stood behind her and reached around her so that one arm was on each side of her he picked up the black slacks and held them in front of her. His mouth was near her ear and he whispered softly. "What about these slacks... they're not to expensive..." he pointed out, compared to the other slacks in the store they were relatively cheap but looking at the price tag he could already feel the lightness of the back of money that he'd shoved in his pocket when they'd walked in there. He stood like that for a moment then had to move away because of the close proximity to Ella. "What did you have in mind for a top? Do you want like a blouse?" he asked, pulling a black blouse off the rack and showing it to her. "Or do you want a button up collard shirt?" he asked, pulling the option off the rack and showing it to her. He interchanged them back and forth a teasing smile on his face as he did so.. he found that he enjoyed shopping with Ella very much.

Hidden Away

09-23-2009, 12:58 AM

OOC: You and your long post..Ha! Well here's another short one. ;) BIC:

Gabrielle Muley

While looking through the racks’ collection of slacks she looked through the sizes. She tried to remember the chart she had memorized for sizing here. Remembering usually was a breeze, but she didn’t expect to find Kip after the second failure, but it seemed like a habit in trying to give the jacket back so she carried it around. She had to admit, it made her laugh to think how it looked on her. She had rolled the sleeves to have it fit better, but that didn’t help much. It still hung close to her knees. She was tall, but that didn’t mean that it would fit her fine if she was a few inches below him. It made her laugh because the jacket defeated the purpose of her shopping in the first place.

Now that she had finally found Kip and talking to him again, she honestly didn’t know what size to look for. Now his jacket was on her mind. She still had it on. She realized how funny it would be if she forgot to give it back to him, she decided to not forget again. Before she could take it off and give it back to him, she froze when she felt someone breathing gently behind her. Before she could turn she head their voice echoed lightly near her ear, “What about these slacks... they're not to expensive...” she looked down as Kip held them in front of her. They seemed to fit. She turned her head and looked at him wondering if he still was being a mind reader. She looked at him and then back at the pants and took them. She fit them over her hips and thought they were fine. She checked the size and the price. 36…that’s what it was…and only 40 Euros…in this boutique? That’s madness.

He moved away as she felt her shoulders relax a bit more. Kip made her feel easily nervous because of his unpredictable personality, "What did you have in mind for a top? Do you want like a blouse? Or do you want a button up collard shirt?" he asked. Gabrielle snickered a bit at how attentive he was.

“I’m not sure…what do you think would look better. Dark blue or black?” She walked over to another rack that had a few dark shades of various blouses and button ups, but she didn’t know what would look better. She didn’t really have a sense of style. She just put on what looked ‘okay’ to her. “Or do you think I should wear a white t-shirt with this black shawl…” taking the shawl that was on a small hanger she wrapped herself in it and found a mirror to see how it looked. She was wearing a teal collared shirt so the black stood out a lot. The white shirt would not be allowed though…maybe black shirt with black shawl? Just to be silly…she was having too much fun.

angelofthenight

09-23-2009, 05:36 AM

Kypton West

Kypton was thoughtful as his hand passed over all the different clothes. They were far beyond his means. He doubted he would ever be able to afford clothes like this. Not that he was complaining. He'd never really been very materialistic and thinking back on it he recalled with bemusement the way it had irritated his mother. Taking him shopping for school clothes had been like asking a goldfish its preference on what shape of bowl it wanted to swim around in. Kypton just didn't much care about clothes. He'd gotten in numerous arguments with his mother about what she should buy him. She would pick a shirt out for him, hold it up and ask his opinion and he would reply with a shrug of his shoulders and a smile. That infuriated her more then him saying that it didn't matter. She would walk away telling him to pick out his own clothes and say that she was going to shop for Chris. Kypton greatly respected his mother and most of the decision she made but he'd been a very independent kid and to let her do something like pick out his clothes after he hit the age of ten had seemed degrading to him, which was why he was able to cope with owning only two different outfits... he just didn't much care for things like that.

Yet shopping with Ella was a completely different story. For some reason it mattered to him what she liked and didn't like. He asked her what she was looking for and wanted to please her by being the one to find that particular item. He teased her about wearing a hat and scarf, finding that he was rather enjoying himself and then when they started looking through the slacks he could see the discouragement in her eyes. Boutiques were extremely expensive stores to shop at, especially if you were being thrifty and from the way Ella was acting he could tell that she was on some kind of budget. Kypton sifted through the slacks, passing all the brightly colored and patterned ones though he paused on a pair of dark green and contemplated momentarily on how good Ella would look in them. He quickly pushed the thought away and continued to look. It was completely inappropriate to think such things... he needed to himself focused on what he was looking for. When he finally found some black slacks he smiled before he even pulled them out examine them.. he could already tell by looking at them that they were a good choice... glancing at the price he was doubly pleased to find that they were affordable... at least he thought they were.. and coming from a homeless person that was saying something.

He got her attention and handed her the slacks. He watched her expression, feeling like an anxious puppy hoping that he'd pleased his master by doing something that he believed to be praise worthy. Kypton watched her intently and when he saw a smile pass her lips he smiled as well. She liked them. Pure elation filled him and he couldn't understand why he was so utterly happy over the fact that he'd found Ella a pair of slacks but he was. He then asked her what she had in mind for a top. He heard her soft laughter and wondered momentarily what she was laughing about. Was she laughing at him? Was he being to forward? Should he let her look by herself? These thoughts and quiet a few more passed through his mind and when they moved over to the tops he let her wander around by herself a little ways away from him. “I’m not sure…what do you think would look better. Dark blue or black?” She asked, walking to a rack full of dark shades of collard shirts and Kypton was thoughtful as watched her... genuinely thinking the question over.. he'd never been good with matching colors... “Or do you think I should wear a white t-shirt with this black shawl…” she suggested as she put on the shawl over a white shirt and he shook his head. Absolutely not acceptable for a performance of the kind she was doing.

Kypton walked over to where she stood and stopping next to her he sifted through the racks until he settled on a dark navy blue top that he thought would blend nicely with her dark hair, dark eyes, and slightly darker skin. Handing her the op he looked thoughtfully at it as she held it up and he questioned. "What do you think?" he wanted to know, after all she was to be the one that would have to wear it. "You know you're really lucky I'm not color blind or this would be really hard..." he teased her as he walked to the other side of the rack and picked up a dark red shirt. "If this looked green instead of red then I wouldn't be able to give you any kind of fashion advice.." he said, a charming smile turning up the corners of his mouth. He made a full circle around the rack and leaning against slightly he gazed down at her... she was still wearing his jacket and chuckled softly. "You could just wear my jacket and no one would see the whole performance.. you could simply hide in it..." he pointed out... amused at how the sleeves, though rolled up seemed to fall past her fingertips and the actual coat itself went almost down to her knees.... it practically swallowed her... but at the same time it was very becoming in his humble opinion.

Hidden Away

09-25-2009, 03:34 AM

Gabrielle Muley

Gabrielle didn't enjoy shopping but she couldn't deny that she was having fun spending time with Kip. It was probably the only time she had spent time with any friend of hers...well of her small list of friends. It just didn't work...she only knew people from place she visited or went to often...her teachers....Nessa...her dolls if that counted...that basically was it. It just was a shame to know few of her teachers didn't like her. Basically Gabrielle's life was missing friendship, relationships...basically general love. she couldn't remember the last time she had hugged someone, if there ever was a time she hugged someone. She can't tell if there was a last time someone said something that truly meant a lot to her. Nothing really seemed to impact her life...except music and negative thoughts. Music was her balance on the other side of depression.

Spending time with Kip made her forget that her life pretty much sucked. So what if she didn't have any friends in school, college, and in life in general. She had herself and her mind to keep her company. Music was her best friend. Maybe it was a good thing that she didn't have a normal life. She was too positive in her mind to live a normal life. If so she would just blow everything off as 'nothing' despite it being something rather important. So maybe with was good that she panics sometimes; it's perfectly find that she didn't know what to do when she started to grow up into the teen years and she had to consulate the school nurse about her needs. It was find that she wasn't perfect. It seems that she was forced to be perfect by her parents, but they did it all in the wrong ways. They didn't nurture her, they didn't love her. She didn't feel their love if they did love her at all.

Forgetting about herself she heard Kips voice, "What do you think?" he showed her a navy blue top. It was on the dark side but that's what she was looking for. He could pick out the clothes for her while she watched him search through clothes she knew that she would have missed. The top was only a bit more expensive than the slacks, but that was okay. She didn't mind. As long as she had something for the performance, because it would be one less thing to go shopping for. Just as she was about to take the hanger from his offering way of holding it up, "You know you're really lucky I'm not color blind or this would be really hard..." She couldn't help but laugh. What if he was color blind...oh that wouldn't be a good story to end. He showed her an example, "If this looked green instead of red then I wouldn't be able to give you any kind of fashion advice.." So, so true. Problem was he probably had better taste in matching than she would. What could she say? Clothes and colors were her speciality, "You could just wear my jacket and no one would see the whole performance.. you could simply hide in it..." She remembered she still had it.

"See, I told myself I should have given it to you before I said anything else." she gently took the jacket off and offered it back, "Sorry, I completely forgot, but I have to admit, it's a pretty comfortable jacket." she couldn't help but smile. There was something about Kip that made her feel brighter inside. It's almost like a burst of energy that didn't go away. After she habitually folded the jacket she gave it back to him.

angelofthenight

09-25-2009, 12:55 PM

Kypton West

Kypton could recall very clearly exactly where he'd gotten that jacket. He'd been standing under an awning in Madrid. It was pouring down rain and he shoved his hands in his pockets to keep them from shaking so noticeably. He smiled at the people who stared at him and thanked the ones that dropped money into his little knapsack that was sitting there open at his feet. His hair was plastered to his face from walking halfway across town that morning in the downpour and his clothes were soaked through. He was waiting for the rain to stop so he could find somewhere to sit in the sun where his clothes would be able to dry off. The thing about summer rains in Spain was that it felt like they lasted for days. Sure they would subside for about an hour or two but the next thing you know it would be raining again... it wasn't exactly conductive to a homeless person who simply wanted to sit out in the sun and let his clothes dry out. Kypton wasn't one to brood but he had to admit that he was beginning to get cold and that thoughts of the sun were irritating him because he was pretty sure that the storm wasn't going to be clearing off anytime soon. He would have to stand there and shiver until the moon was shot down from the sky it felt like...

It was then that he realized that a woman was staring at him. She had to be in her mid thirties. Her figure was slightly more prominent then someone who was younger and who hadn't undergone the experience of bringing children into the world. Kypton, who had been nineteen at the time, had smiled at her and asked her how she was. She replied with a smile of her own but then she told him to hold on a second and pulling out a large sack she dug around it. He watched her with confusion... he was used to people dropping spare change and even a little more into the sack for him but what was this lady doing? He watched in silent amazement as she pulled a leather jacket, that was in practically new condition, from the bag and Kypton immediately shook his head, assuring her that he didn't need it and that he didn't need it and that he could easily go inside to get out of the rain. She insisted, explaining that she'd just lost her son and that she was giving all of his clothes that were to a charity anyway... it might as well go to someone who really needed it. Kypton had been unable to say anything after that except a muttered thank you as the woman walked away.. and he'd had the jacket ever since.

He'd met very few people in his life that he would actually refer to as angels. He'd been raised in a religious family and occasionally he liked to think that there was someone watching over him but the logical outlook that he'd developed over the years trumped those ideas easily. For some reason thoughts of angels crossed his mind now as he gazed at Ella who was looking through shirts to try and find one that would be suitable for her to wear with the black slacks he'd helped her find. While he looked through tops his eyes kept going to her, like there was some magnetic field around her that would just draw his eyes like two magnets. He smiled and colored slightly when she caught him looking at her. She probably thought he was impolite and didn't know how to handle himself. It was then that he spotted a dark navy blue, almost black top and held it up for her inspection.... after she took it he started teasing her about how if he was color blind it would be very difficult for him to help her find clothes that she needed or wanted. He used the example of a shirt, saying that if a red shirt looked green that he wouldn't be able to give her any kind of fashion advice and she laughed.. music to his ears... he didn't care weather she liked the top or not because of that single accomplishment.

He pretended to look some more, anything to distract his mind from the fact that she was only a couple of feet away from him. He ran his hand along the sleeves of a bunch of shirts and caught one as he knocked it off the rack. Best not do that again. He teasingly told her that she could just wear his jacket and no one would see her during the performance... it practically swallowed her up in it.. yet it will still cute and oddly becoming on her small frame. "See, I told myself I should have given it to you before I said anything else." she said if giving some excuse as to why she'd had it that long. Had he sounded angry? He coudln't recall it but maybe he'd said it without thinking... as much as he liked that jacket he hadn't thought he'd get mad at Ella for having it.... all these thoughts ran through his head as she was taking off the jacket and the only thing that made him focus back on her was when she apologized with "Sorry, I completely forgot, but I have to admit, it's a pretty comfortable jacket." she admitted and Kypton was surprised when she placed it in his arms, folded neatly and perfectly. He gazed at it for a long moment... his fingertips brushing the smooth leather and he knew what he wanted to do.

Kypton had learned something about living thirteen years on his own. You could only have something for so long before it was time to let go and he knew this to be one of those times. He'd had his jacket for nine, going on ten years... it was high time that he get a new one. He unfolded the jacket and instead of saying anything he walked back over to Ella who was looking at pins that could go in her hair. "Ella..." he called so she would turn around and look at him. When she did he wrapped the jacket around her shoulders and pulled it so it wrapped around her. "I've had this jacket for almost ten years... I think it's time I let it go.." he explained, before he actually told her to keep it.. he knew no matter what he said to her she would insist that he keep it.. tha the needed it more then she did... he would get to cold without it.. he'd heard it all before... but he'd made up his mind and Kypton wasn't about to change it. When she was about to something he went on. "And since it looks so good on you..." he continued, adjusting the collar, his fingertips brushing her jaw as he did so and he tried to ignore but he repeated himself despite his best efforts. "since it look so good on you I want you to have it..." he whispered... perfectly aware of how clothes he was standing, what was more she was gazing at him with something in her eyes that he didn't quiet understand... and gazing back at her.. he couldn't' find it in him to move away.

Hidden Away

09-28-2009, 04:24 AM

OOC: Yea, my mind has just short-circuited and I didn't know how to respond..BIC:

Gabrielle Muley

Gabrielle...and shopping. She could go on for hours. She was not suborn at all as a child, but she just refused to partake in anything to do with shopping. They made her take advanced placement classes with older students in school and they had her intern at the Hospital as a teenager and watch various trails and case to expose her to anything. Her only free time was time that they forced her to eat or shop. She would much rather sleep or read or anything but shop. It seemed only years ago when she was a child being forced to wear dresses that she didn't like. They would always ask her why did she buy it, but she could only reply and say that they had bought it without asking her opinion. Gabby was not the average girl who enjoyed making herself beautiful since she didn't see her self as tragically ugly and so she did not necessarily not care, but she didn't obsess over beauty. She could not stand makeup because the mascara would make her eyelashes stiff and they would prick in her eyes. Her mother painstakingly applied eyeshadow, but it would smear if she scratched at her eyes just once. The foundation her mother would apply on her face didn't make a different at all; it just made her face look like it was covered with brown chalk dust. Clothes were a different story. She would try on a pair of jeans and they fell of just as easily as she put them on. Belts didn't work, children sizes didn't fit her length so she had to wear dresses and skirts for an extent of her life. Not a walk in the park exactly. When she finally grew into a more womanly figure she could fit into a reasonably small sized jean, but that was before college. Coming out of college she snuck by with a 26 to a 32..depending on the brand. She looked back at the slacks that Kip had shown her and they were just the perfect size. She looked to him and offered a smile, but ended out laughing a bit when she caught him looking at her, but was her way of revenge because she knew that he caught her watching him many times on the roof that morning.

Revenge it sounded so dark and crude...well perhaps because she felt embarrassed to be caught, but perhaps he felt the same way. Or not. “Ella…” She turned and faced him. She had a sparkling hair barrette that she was looking at in her hand. She wasn't too fond of hair accessories--more or less accessories, but she wondered what they would look like. She looked his way and she could tell her eyes were softening with every second of her gaze and she had to blink her eyes several times to focus once again after centering her vision only towards his eyes. She felt that her eyes were crossed, and the the only thing that let her know that they were was because she didn't see two of everything. She remembered her contacts and she noted to herself that she would have to take them out later that day and replace them with her regular, clear contacts. After coming back into focus, she saw him unfold the jacket and returned it on her shoulders. He wrapped it around her more and she didn't know what was going on. She just knew that it felt warm and welcoming to feel her so near to her, “I’ve had this jacket for almost ten years…I think it’s time I let it go..” Ella knew that he meant it, and she could feel herself wanting to stop him, but she didn't. “And since it looks so good on you…” He paused for a moment and then took that time to repeat his train of thought. It made her smile, “Since it looks so good on you I want you to have it…” She, at the moment, felt comfortable with him. She didn’t feel obligated to suggest that he keep it…she actually sort of wanted to keep it just because it seemed natural to wear his jacket. It sounded weird in her head, but perhaps it wasn’t as odd as she thought it…Maybe not...“Thank you, Kip…It’s very sweet of you.” She decided to not argue with him as she smiled, she actually sort of wanted to keep it for a while. She could have it? She knew that he would insist that she keep it, and she didn’t like the thought of him being mad at her. She wanted to do anything but make him frustrated. Despite her fear of anger from others, she just had a completely different motive for Kip. When he helped adjust the collar of the jacket she felt his fingers, warm in one way and a bit rough, brush again her jaw line. She felt her face turn a small shade of red; it was too dark of a red, but she knew he could tell. Now he was standing so close to him she could hear his breathing. Her gaze was still and almost emotionless. She was lost as she looked back into his eyes. She couldn't escape, in fact she didn't want to leave his gaze. If she were to let out one shadow of her emotion he was bound to see the confusion in her eyes. He would have seen how much she thought of him…that would be a lot to be exposed to…she didn't want to show him anything of what she was feeling. He would have thought the silliest things of her. Thinking this she quizzically bit her lip. Ella has never, in her life, felt this way. It was dramatic beyond drama. It sounded so immature but she couldn’t describe it any other way. She felt…that’s probably the problem, she didn’t know what to feel. She wanted to hid her emotions as she asked, "Do you like this hair barrette or this one?" she felt dumb, but she couldn't do any better.

angelofthenight

09-29-2009, 01:51 AM

Kypton West

Kypton had always thought that when he parted with the jacket he would feel as if he were losing a part of himself. He'd gone through so much with it that everything seemed to blur into one fuzzy memory. It had kept him warm on cold rainy nights in the hills of Ireland. It had sheltered him from the biting snow of Poland as he'd made his way from one small village to another. He'd used it as a pillow on more then one occasion as he drifted off to sleep on the cold hard ground. Yet as he handed it over to Ella none of those memories seemed to plague him. There was no sadness, no feeling of loss that overwhelmed simply a quiet joy in knowing that Ella liked the jacket so much and a pleasure for he was sure that she would be pleased to take it off his hands. He wouldn't be surprised if she argued. She didn't seem like the type that would take free handouts and he was prepared to insist thats he keep it. It wasn't really keeping him warm anymore since there were quiet a few worn places and if you were out in the biting wind for more then an hour or two you could really feel it. He didn't think Ella would wear it enough to notice... plus it looked good on her... and that was enough of a reason for him.

She was looking at hair accessories when he approached her wit his intentions to give her the jacket. He watched her for a moment in silence, grateful that she hadn't noticed him yet. There was a tranquil interest in her eyes as she held each pin up for examination. It was obvious that she wasn't exactly intrigued by the hair pieces but rather looking at them for something to do. He moved towards her and she looked up at him, as if sensing that he was close. He had called her name softly so as not to startle her and their eyes locked. For a moment he forgot what he'd meant to say and then quickly regaining his composure he unfolded the jacket that she'd took such pains to fold for him and carefully draped it over her shoulders. He gazed at her in silence. Eying the jacket on her again as if making sure he was making the right choice but really he was admiring just how good it looked on her. He admitted to her that he'd had the jacket for ten years and that it was time that he get rid of it. He paused again. It was hard to keep his train of thought when he was this close to her but he added slowly that he wanted her to have it.... and he hoped that she wouldn't object to it.

Kypton could practically see the gears turning in her head. She was obviously thinking about something and he wished he could know what it was. Yet her thoughts were not something he was privy to so he tried to content himself with watching the way her eyes seemed to go in and out of focus as her mind wandered. Finally she smiled and Kypton couldn't keep the smile off his face either. “Thank you, Kip…It’s very sweet of you.” she said and Kypton felt as if she'd just handed him the world on a platter. Everything seemed perfect because she hadn't rejected his gesture of giving her his jacket. He knew that he would have an interesting time trying to find a new one but at that moment he didn't care about any of that. All that mattered to him was pleasing the woman that stood in front of him. For reasons he couldn't quiet understand he felt like nothing else in the world mattered to him except making her happy. He knew as he gazed at her, no matter how impractical it sounded, that if she asked him to buy her the beret that she held in her hands he would do it, he may not be able to eat for the next week but he would do it only because she asked it of him.

Kypton hadn't ever really been selfish but he'd never consciously tried to please other people either. Now he felt like a dog trying to please his master in hopes of some kind of treat. In his case the reward was Ella's sweet smile. He reached to adjust the collar of the jacket that was now hers. He was aware of his fingers, which lightly brushed her jaw as he made sure to fold over every inch of the collar to make it look uniform and enable her to see over it's brim. He noted the color that flooded her cheeks and he assumed it was from embarrassment. He quickly moved his hands away from the collar and tried to think of what to do with them. When he ran out of ideas he stuffed them into his pockets and continued to gaze at her, as if he was glued to the spot. They were only inches apart. He could easily lean forward and brush his lips against his... and for the first time he imagined what it would be like to kiss Gabrielle Muley. It wasn't like he hadn't kissed a woman before... but the very thought of doing it seemed special somehow.... different from all the other displays of affection that he'd shared with women... he tried to change his train of thought and was grateful when she asked "Do you like this hair barrette or this one?" she questioned and as random as the question itself was it was enough to give him a chance to refocus on what he was doing and who he was with.

He struggled to think of a reply. He knew he didn't have to give her some long explanation Yet he coudln't think of how to answer her. It was like trying to reel a fishing line in after casting it much to far, you waited for sight of the bobber breaking the surface and it seemed to be taking forever. Kypton was now fishing for an answer and he was coming up empty handed. Finally he managed to concentrate on the two, trying to decide which he could see her wearing and shrugged. "that one..." he finally said, not sure of which one he pointed at the moment he just needed to clear his heat. He realized that he was holding the slacks and the shirt that she'd picked out and so he asked her. "Is this all you came in for or did you want to look for jewelry too... some earrings to match it maybe?" he asked, even as he spoke his thoughts were jumbled and his words seemed to not make sense to himself. He'd never felt this confused before and he wasn't sure how to get his head cleared. It was then that he spotted a diamond flower clip and picking it up he held it in his hands. "I think this one fits you the best..." he admitted to her, handing it over to her for her inspection and hoping, among all the other things that were dancing around in his head, that she would think so too.

Hidden Away

09-30-2009, 03:51 AM

Gabrielle Muley

The jacket had this particular weight that it added to her shoulders, but it just made her smile and laugh all the more inside. She just couldn’t explain how crazy it was that she was excited over a jacket. She couldn’t imagine how her face could flood so quickly with color, but it did. She didn’t know how and so she just wanted to hide it. She remembered how much she liked Kip. She felt her stomach twist and she felt like a teenager. Well obviously she didn’t know exactly what that was like, but the way Nessa would tell stories about her past boyfriends and relationships Ella could only guess that’s how it all went. You meet the guy, and you would have everything in common and then you would like to spend more time with them. If there was any flaw in Ella it would have to be jumping too far into the future. She remembered how Nessa would talk so fondly of them at first and then when she was reminded of how they broke up the only thing that could come out of her mouth was about how much of a scum bag he was. And that was pretty shocking to hear that Nessa couldn’t keep a boyfriend for more than six months, she was very pretty. This thought just magically popped into Gabby’s mind and she had to hold back her feelings because she would have groaned or sighed as if she were upset. She knew that no matter how quietly she did it, Kip would notice.

For some reason Gabrielle ignored this feeling. She knew that she was thinking too quickly, but that’s just her nature. She didn’t even try to consider anything on those grounds…that would just sound weird to the normal mind and even to Ella’s thinking it was out of the ordinary. It was just plain odd. She knew that she had enough self control to hold back anything that could have possibly gone wrong. Even if she had the least bit of self control she still could hold back from being a complete idiot. Gabby just wanted to make sense to herself other than just making a bunch of statements in her head about avoiding things like that. She returned to simple thoughts. Why did she like Kip in the first place…well did she have to find that out just yet? She just knew that his smile made he feel happier, his personality was unlike any other than before, and his eyes made her see more to this world than just going by each day. It was weird to think of him this way, but it was the weird truth. Gabby didn’t know what to do. Her thoughts returned back to the ground when she saw that Kip had realized that her face was red. When she looked up she saw that he had stopped everything he was doing and didn’t know what to do after removing his hands away from the jacket’s collar. He froze for a moment and then his hands were stuffed into his pockets. Despite the fact that Ella was looking down she couldn’t help but smile and laugh at how they both had reacted. She was mostly distracted by how close they were. His clothes were almost dry, and just a bit less than damp. Gabby had to widen her stance a bit more so she would topple over; she was certain that would have fallen forward. Her knees were locked and she didn’t notice that. Last time she did that, she had passed out. She could have passed out for a different reason. There was something about him that made her heart race and then it would skip certain beats. They had stared at each for entirely too long and she didn’t know how to break it…nor did she want to, but she just had to move the subject. She had asked about the hair clips, and he took a moment as if he were under pressure. Mindlessly almost, he pointed to something a bit to the left of one of the clips, “That one…” She assumed the one to the left.

Either way it was good to know that she had snapped out of her thoughts, "Is this all you came in for or did you want to look for jewelry too... some earrings to match it maybe?" Just like she said before she didn’t want to go shopping but it would be one less thing for her to do. She had a blouse and slacks and maybe she would just disregard the hair clip more or less earrings. She was satisfied with her Turkish eye necklace as any type of jewelry. She ignored it until he pulled her attention, "I think this one fits you the best...” It was beautiful and very simple, which she loved, but she didn’t want to break her bank within a few months of staying here. She didn’t her next paycheck within five weeks. She had only a couple hundred more Euros on hand and she wasn’t going to go to bank and take out that extra money her parents had put in her account. She had to laugh under her breath at his offer of the third hair barrette, but she didn’t have the money to get it. She may have come from a family that we very well of, but that doesn’t mean that she didn’t want to challenge herself to get there. She just shook her head, “I think that will be for another day or something. But it is beautiful.” She smiled and took it from his hand and replaced it back on the rack. “I’m not that fond of jewelry anyways.” She went through her purse and took out her Turkish eye (http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/41GlDEZtJgL._SL500_AA280_.jpg) and put it on. She got it from her parents when they had come back from a conference in Turkey, but the superstition was in various places of Europe. She then held out the necklace. It was long enough to hold out about five or more inches from her neck to show, “This is the only thing I usually wear other than my earrings from when I was four.” Gabrielle didn’t mind the idea of jewelry, but she just was so allergic to everything no matter how much it said that it was hypo-allergenic.

angelofthenight

10-03-2009, 07:31 PM

Kypton West

Every girl likes jewelry don't they? Diamonds were a girl's best friend after all. All he really wanted to do was please the girl that he was standing next to. The thought of having her disapproval for any reason made him feel extremely uneasy. As if something wasn't right. He quickly pushed the concerns of her disapproval away and tried to focus on what he knew of her so far. He knew her to be sweet, and in a way rather timid. It was this timidity that drew him to her. The way she seemed to steal looks at him like she were some small child stealing a cookie from a cookie jar endeared him to her all the more. Her smile seemed to come easily and naturally whenever he spoke to her and there was an intelligence her eyes that made him feel as if he could never know everything about her. He wanted to know everything. There was something there that elicited a desire to know all that he could about this mysterious girl in front of him. He knew that she wasn't like other girls and that made it difficult to know weather the general rules of the opposite sex applied to Ella. He hoped that the suggestion that they look at jewelry would please her and he immediately jumped to pointing out pieces of jewelry that he thought would fit her.

He came up with a small diamond pendant that he thought would look very becoming with her black slacks and dark blue shirt. He held it up for her examination, telling her that he thought it fit her. When he handed it to her he was surprised to find that he felt a twinge of nervousness in his gut... he waited quietly and impatiently for her opinion. His heart fell when he saw her shake her head and he tried to catch her gaze to see why she was shaking her head. Was it because she didn't like it? He could find her a different one, maybe she would prefer pearls instead of diamonds.. there was a nice selection of pearls in a case a little ways down. She placed the necklace back on the pad that he'd got it off of and smiled... though put at ease a little bit he still wanted an explanation. “I think that will be for another day or something. But it is beautiful.” She assured him and he tried to hide the relief that flooded him... glad that he hadn't messed up. “I’m not that fond of jewelry anyways.” She explained and Kypton nodded his understanding... this girl really was an exception to the women he'd met and wooed in his travels. He looked up to see that she was digging through her purse and he watched her with curiosity. "This is the only thing I usually wear other than my earrings from when I was four.” she told him and placing a necklace in his hand he cradled it like it was something breakable and precious.

He gaze at the beautiful piece of jewelry. The only thing she claimed she ever really wore. He could understand why she loved it so much. It had some sentimental value. When he'd been a kid he'd had a pocket knife that his father had given to him when he was five. He'd taken it everywhere with him and he'd left it in his desk at home when he went to New York with his mother and his 'agent', he doubted his parents had even kept it. He handed the necklace back to her. "It's nice..." he said sincerely and he smiled at her. "You truly are one of a kind Ella..." he mused and when she gave him a puzzled look he simply walked towards the check out. "Have you been to the Eiffel Tower yet Ella?" he asked her with interest, he'd been in Paris for almost six months and he had yet to go see the beautiful structure up close and personal. Having lived in Greece for three years and studying architecture with a vehement interest that wasn't as prevalent any longer but he was still rather eager to see the beautiful structure and if he was able to go with Ella then that would make the experience all the bettter.

Hidden Away

10-04-2009, 04:10 AM

Gabrielle Muley

She had explained in her mind that she didn’t want to bust her bank this early in the month. Gabby was good at prioritizing her money, but she just always felt that she need to put more money off to the side for emergencies. She looked at him when she shock her head and returned it to his hand. He seemed to be confused and she just smiled and dug through her purse looking for the Turkish symbol that would ward off all evil and non pure thoughts. She explained how she never was fond of keeping expensive things with her. It just made you a better candidate to be stolen from or beaten. He seemed to understand how she felt as he gazed at the pendent. She could imagine Kip as a child with some sort of security…as a toddler she remembered her Emilia; she never left Gabby’s side. If she left it on the couch, Gabby would rush back to the room and find her and bring her back to her room and go back to sleep. Gabby didn’t really care for any other toy other than her. She had a few arm repairs but she was kept in a rather good condition. She remembered getting the doll at her fourth birthday…her aunt approached her and said make sure that they don’t disapprove, but I know you’ll think of something to keep her. For some reason her aunt knew that she would want to keep the doll. She was correct. Gabby knew that the poor old doll was probably back home in a container of other knick-knacks that were in her room without purpose. She had forgotten about Emilia in high school and then through out college she lived without the voiceless doll. How could have a doll been so much help to her. Why did she forget about her all of a sudden?

She was wondering what he was thinking about when she shock her head to the barrette, he seemed to be slightly shocked, but that was normal. She didn’t want anything else to embellish her. She was simply going to play several pieces in front of millions almost…it was something she couldn’t add to her that could take away from her performance. It was this artistic idea she had in her mind…it was also altered by her college professor. This was probably one of the only people that would actually talk to her in college. He was nice, a good person, but people didn’t like him all that much. They think his classes are too hard. You have to be dumb as sticks to fail his class. She was reminded of where she was when Kip brought her back to earth, "It's nice..." Gabby smiled at the way his voice rang. He was truthful about his words. His smile made her smile back. He returned the pendent back to her and she put it around her neck and made sure it was secure with a small tug. “ You truly are one of a kind Ella...” he said and she looked up to see him, but she barely had enough to make a reply more or less show a confused face before he walked towards the check out counter. She followed and took a small glance at him and she still didn’t know what caused him to say so. She had given the items to the attendant and paid and then it was over. Shopping was done with. She knew that clothes would fit her so she didn’t bother trying them on. She was still in the stage of her life where it didn’t matter if the brand sizes were different a 36 was a 36 in any other store. Thank God for that. She paid had everything in a bag and they were walking out of the store towards to bench. She saw that he had left his stuff, but nothing seemed to be missing. Before she was going to point that out he beat her to saying something, "Have you been to the Eiffel Tower yet Ella?" She simply shook her head, “I’ve always wanted to go. Believe it or not I used to want to go something in the designing world. It didn’t work out too well. Anyways I remember studying various architectural buildings in Europe. The Eiffel Tower would probably be one of my favorites and must sees. Right next to the Taj Mahal on my list too…” Gabby took a moment before she reached down and took his stuff and handed it to him. He put them away without her having to say anything. It was like they could read each other’s minds. Without another thought or word they walked towards one of the largest attractions of the world.

OOC: A bit late, but END SCENE :) *facepalm!*BIC:

MystMoonstruck

10-13-2009, 10:42 AM

OOC: Easy will be meeting Ember Slight. As I have been gazing upon some of the boutiques offerings, Easy certainly could use some help! BIC:

Easy "Cat" Tanner

What had possessed him to come into this place?! That was the question echoing through Easy's dazed mind as he stood in the middle of the boutique, surrounded by a dazzling of array of clothing that he had thought might yield a new look, a fresh path, something apart from streetboy or shabby finery left over from Jamil Mehmet's attempts to turn him into a young gentleman. Today, he had worn a suit not quite as worn as the others, realizing that it was too loose because he still was not eating regularly. His shirt was white linen. He should have worn a pair of nice shoes, but shoes meant socks, and he hated socks, so he wore the short boots. Now, he was aware that he could have made wiser choices since it was inevitable that he would have to doff his footwear in order to find something suitable to the new clothing.

At that thought, he nearly turned and headed for the door, not wanting to deal with this and uncertain that he wanted to force himself through the ordeal. Why was he doing it? He was still torn between staying at the Opera House and perhaps graduating to the stage or losing himself in his old way of life, even returning to California to do so. Only, his life here had cost so much that he could never be out of debt to Rafe Chancery and Jamil Mehmet. Standing in this boutique meant he would be spending more of their money, committing himself to their eventual plans for him. Perhaps he would find nothing of interest and walk out emptyhanded. After all, he had never developed any sort of fashion sense, even with some guidance from Jules. The memory brought pain with it, but a faded pang as newer wounds took the place of that loss.

Pausing to stare in disbelief at a rack of shirts that looked as if they were intended for vacationing tourists, what with the prints of palm fronds and surfboards, Easy dazedly wondered at the prices this place demanded. Yes, he'd done a little homework beforehand, mainly eavesdropping around shoppers, which is why he had ended up here, at the mercy of a salesclerk who apparently thought he knew what he was looking for.

Sure you do, Cat! You had to namedrop, huh? Mention the Mehmet name and have 'em fall all over you. At least that name carried enough weight that they wouldn't treat him as snootily as he truly deserved. It was as if the clerk was waiting for him to ask for one of each. Oh man... What've I gotten myself into?!

OOC: Since we never were able to do a scene, this is being recycled for a new story. BIC:

Mrs Nadir Khan

04-17-2010, 12:08 AM

Madeleine de Chandon

“Merde, Maureen!” Madeleine swore with a semi-sarcastic and sweeping gesture. “You have no idea how glad I am to be getting out of that hell hole.”

Melodramatic? Maybe a little, but Madeleine had been shuttling from apartment to work and back again… and nothing else. All work and no play makes Madeleine a very restless girl. Now, out on the Rue de Rivioli with Maureen, she was growing steadily less stir-crazy. She’d almost forgotten how beautiful the city was. Honking car horns, glamorous and gorgeous people rushing to catch cabs, other gorgeous creatures strolling leisurely on the sidewalks, a shining sun, and beautiful men and women removing their drab winter outfits in exchange for shorts, mini-skirts, and tank-tops. Okay, so Madeleine had forgotten how beautiful people she didn’t know were. Well, technically… Had she forgotten if she didn’t know them? Ah, well… Madeleine knew full well that when Myron’s taunting was the highlight of the week, she needed to break monotony just a tad. Otherwise, he’d feel all warm-and-fuzzy, special, and entitled. Yuck. Madeleine ran her hands through her black hair and flashed a grin at Maureen.

“You know,” she said, her voice less obnoxious than before, as she halted in front of a nearby store. “Jean Paul Gaultier’s is probably the most ridiculously priced store in town.”

She looked at the sign, all the while, ogling and envying the mannequin’s crazy-high stilettos. A smirk worked its way onto her lips.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

PhAnToMeSs07

04-17-2010, 07:53 PM

(OOC: I'm not going to lie, I couldn't figure out which last name to use for Madeleine but, considering the first time they met, Madeleine gave her de Chandon instead of Ledoux and though I'm assuming Maureen knows there are two different names, she's going to call her the first one.) BIC:

Maureen Dawson

Usually, Maureen was one to anticipate the arrival of spring; however, the transformation of seasons from winter to spring, this year at least, had caught her completely off guard. Walking down the streets of Paris now, her eyes roaming to just about every woman with legs that passed, she was extremely upset with herself for not noticing sooner. Besides the obvious reasons for liking spring, it also gave Maureen a chance to show off her own body and she reveled in the attention. Her own attire mocked that of the many women passing her, shorts and a tank top. The last time she had been out shopping at spring time, she had been attached to a certain male and so, she was limited in her looking and lusting. This time though, she was allowed to do whatever she wanted and it was a relief to be able to do so.

She received a small bump from the side, an accidental collision that was barely noticeable, but noticeable enough to remind her she was with company. She had almost forgotten that she was indeed with a companion, a very attractive one at that, as she had been lost in the ‘sights’ around her. Besides, being that they had the kind of relationship they did, Maureen could look at Madeleine any time she wanted, granted lately they were taking on more of a friendship than sexual acquaintanceship. Not that she was complaining, friends were always good, and ones you could sleep with were even better.

“Merde, Maureen! You have no idea how glad I am to be getting out of that hell hole.” Maureen laughed, scoffing in agreement at the words, “I’ve been working about as much as you have here lately. Maureen, will you stay for this practice? Maureen, do this, do that! Our piano player is free today for that.” She rolled her eyes as she was mocking the managers and stopped speaking when Madeleine stopped in front of a store that Maureen knew was way out of her price range. “You know, Jean Paul Gaultier’s is probably the most ridiculously priced store in town.” Maureen had never heard of it, much less even looked in the window though now that she was, she was taken by the many spectacular things inside. I hate rich people…these stores shouldn’t even exist, or the people that own it should at least be f***ed with. They stood there, staring at the things inside much like they had been staring at the people outside.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” She turned to see a smirk on Madeleine's face, a smirk that Maureen had seen before. It always preceded doing something they shouldn’t be doing and Maureen was excited that she had finally found a friend that was as reckless as she. “I think we’re on the same wavelength,” and she smirked back, skipping lightly over to the door, opening it and making a gesture for Madeleine to go in, “After you, Miss Madeleine de Chandon, I think these people should meet the two best damn women at the Opera Populaire…I’m not sure what that entails…but we’ll see what happens.”

Mrs Nadir Khan

04-18-2010, 04:39 AM

Madeleine de Chandon

Nose practically to the glass, Madeleine could see only tantalizing hints of the boutique’s treasures. Aside from neck-breaking high-heels and red-carpet-worthy ensembles, the employees of the boutique looked equally as runway-ready. The possibilities were endless. Flirting, shopping, dress-up, shoplifting, teasing… Anything and everything a bored-out-of-her-mind woman could possibly want to do in a store.

Well. At least most of them, anyways.

“I think we’re on the same wavelength.”

As Maureen returned Madeleine’s smirk, the only thought flitting through the ballet mistress’ head was thus:

Why the hell didn’t I meet Maureen years ago?!

Madeleine seldom had female friends. Only acquaintances, co-workers and conquests. It seemed that Maureen was everything Madeleine could ever want in a companion rolled into one. She wasn’t Myron, but, hell, that was a good thing. Especially on days like today. Madeleine’s eyes danced gleefully a she watched Maureen make a show of holding the door for her.

“After you, Miss Madeleine de Chandon,” Maureen said with a sweeping gesture. Madeleine mock-curtsied and made her way to the door.

“I think these people should meet the two best damn women at the Opera Populaire…I’m not sure what that entails…but we’ll see what happens.”

Madeleine had never been much of a giggler; whether it was her nature or the number of cigarettes she smoked, it was hard to say. But as she entered the store, she was laughing.

“Let’s see… So much to do…” she murmured, tapping her chin as though she was seriously pondering once they were inside the store.

Madeleine felt nearly giddy with the idea of having fun that was different than her usual brand of entertainment. Playful, adventurous, and easily-bored, Madeleine’s idea of a good time usually consisted of a dance floor, tons of alcohol, and flirtatious/scantily clad people. As thrilling and Hollywood-esque as that kind of lifestyle sounded, it could get dull after a while. Myron usually joked that Madeleine had slept with all of Paris. Madeleine knew that wasn’t possible, but sometimes, it felt like she had seen and done it all. And then, when she took a moment to examine her life—which she didn’t do often, at least, not thoroughly—she could easily see that “normal” activities (movies, leisurely strolls, and shopping) were things she didn’t do often. Sometimes, she forgot what fun they could be.

But today, she was getting an adrenaline-rush that reminded her why 99.9 percent of women mall-crawled on a weekly basis.

“Decisions, decisions…” she continued. Her eyes fell on a display and her nose wrinkled. “Ugh. Will you look at that?”

Haute Couture. Gag. Once upon a time, Madeleine had envied the models on the runways. Now, she wondered if she was getting old, or if the fashion designers were losing their minds. The dresses and suits and skirts and blouses were all pretty… Save for the headgear. Heavy monstrosities that were supposed to hearken back to Mesoamerican priestesses or something. Madeleine just thought they looked ridiculous. She pointed in the direction of one outfit.

“Mer des tropiques,” she read aloud, dragging Maureen along to look at the price listing and title. “Proving that there really is such a thing as too much turquoise.”

PhAnToMeSs07

06-01-2010, 04:35 PM

((OOC: I'm sorry it took so long, I have a free week though so I can get some stuff in. )) BIC

Maureen Dawson

Maureen had been around Madeleine enough to know that the high pitched laugh she emitted as they entered the store was unusual. She took pride in being able to bring such a sound out of her. To be perfectly honest, Maureen took pleasure in the many sounds she could make Madeleine produce but it was not the time or place to think of such things. “Let’s see….So much to do…” Maureen followed her around as she feigned seriousness over everything. As they walked, her eyes wandered to the many extravagant outfits and also to the extravagant price tags. She knew she’d never buy anything from here but she couldn’t help but try and put herself in the shoes of those who would. She could tell already that the frame of mind it took to buy things from here was not one she would enjoy….unless she was pretending to be Lady Gaga…that would be an adventure in and of itself.

“Ugh. Will you look at that?” Maureen turned around quickly and it was quite easy to fix her eyes on the spectacle that Madeleine found so unappealing. In other words, it was easy for the outfit to catch her eye because of the overwhelming amount of one color; however, it was not easy to look at because of such. Still, she couldn’t help but think about Lady Gaga wearing this outfit, which was funny considering she had just been thinking about her. “Mer des tropiques, proving that there really is such a thing as too much turquoise.” She unintentionally wrinkled her own nose in agreement before finally speaking out loud, “Much agreed. The only person that would have the balls to wear this is Lady Gaga and I must say, she’d pull it off because it seems the weirder she gets, the more everyone loves her, myself included.”

She tore her eyes away from the hideous outfit only to find another one that made her laugh out loud before she could remember that she needed to keep it down. She slapped her hand over her mouth in an attempt to stifle her laughter, but she only succeeded in changing the tone of the laugh to a hearty chuckle in her throat. She managed to choke out, “Oh my God, can I please try this one on (http://www2.pictures.zimbio.com/gi/Jean+Paul+Gaultier+Paris+Fashion+Week+Haute+WCVQba eLgljl.jpg), I want to feel like a super hero.” The outfit was hard to describe, a thick fabric making a leotard fitted top with dark pantyhose and boots that came up to the thigh. To top the monstrosity off, a long coat was draped over one shoulder, resembling in many ways a cape. The only thing missing was a logo noting which superhero the “costume” belonged to and a mask to go with it. “I don’t know how to go about doing this but, I just have an overwhelming urge to put this on.”

Mrs Nadir Khan

06-02-2010, 09:34 PM

Madeleine de Chandon

“Much agreed. The only person that would have the balls to wear this is Lady Gaga and I must say, she’d pull it off because it seems the weirder she gets, the more everyone loves her, myself included.”

Madeleine snorted. Gaga for Gaga. That’s what Maureen and the whole rest of the world was. Madeleine liked the music well enough—perfect for clubbing. The lyrics just hit too close to home sometimes, which Madeleine never found comforting in a song. Still, she could envision the blonde decked out in all the turquoise splendor of Jean-Paul Gaultier’s design. After all, wasn’t this the designer who’d first created Madonna’s cone-bra look of the nineties?

Maureen’s laughter pulled Madeleine from her thoughts and Madeleine followed her friend’s gaze to the ugliest color in the whole store. Some sort of off-olive, tan-brown. With a cape thing. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad in black and without the cape. But…

“Oh my God, can I please try this one on, I want to feel like a super hero.”

“Oh, God,” Madeleine said, trying to stifle her own laughter. “Oh, God!”

“I don’t know how to go about doing this but, I just have an overwhelming urge to put this on.”

“Knock yourself out,” Madeleine said, encouragingly. “I’d love to see that.”

Because Madeleine knew one thing to be true. If Maureen couldn’t make it look good, the Great Gaga herself couldn’t either.

PhAnToMeSs07

06-23-2010, 07:59 AM

Maureen Dawson

When Maureen mentioned to Madeleine that she wanted to try on the outfit, she was hoping deep down that Madeleine would take initiative and go about the business of talking with someone to get the show on the road. She had never been in this store, didn’t know what to expect, and certainly didn’t know how to begin asking to try on an outfit that could bankrupt her if she ended up having to buy it because of a mishap. It was at that moment that she zoned out, a memory taking her back to more than a few months ago when she had been in another ritzy part of La Rue de Rivoli. She had gone to dine with Pieter at L’Arpége and every one; the hostess included, had turned their nose up at her and almost kicked her out. Had it not been for Pieter, she would have been thrown out. As she came out of her recollection, she suddenly didn’t really seem to be as nervous as she had been before about asking to try on outfit. She hated people who acted like they were better than someone just because of where they worked and she was about to fix that very thing. An idea had formed in her head, already hatched and beginning to walk and because of such, there was no going back.

“Just go along with it,” she whispered to Madeleine as she closed her eyes, her back to the manager at the front desk. She was centering herself, similar to the time she took before getting into character before a show seeing as she was about to impersonate the great Idina Menzel herself. She had been told that she favored her and had even been compared at times performance wise when she had been in the broadway business, though her success was nowhere near as great. By the time her eyes were open a total of two seconds later, she was Idina Menzel, head held high and proud as she took on the air that someone important would have. She walked to the front desk where a man stood, already looking her up and down in a condescending fashion. She rolled her eyes before she even arrived, which only got more of a rise from the man, “Do you know who I am?” He opened his mouth to speak but she silenced him with a sharp movement from her hand, “Obviously not by the way your nose is stuck up in the air. Perhaps if you’d lower your nose, you’d be able to see past it to who’s in front of you….” He lowered his head obediently, but slowly and after a few seconds of silence, she huffed audibly, “Of course you wouldn’t know me here, there is no real theater…Idina Menzel…perhaps you’d recognize me better if I were in green paint?”

She crossed her arms dramatically while the man squinted at her face as if to really determine if she was indeed Idina Menzel. On the inside, she was screaming with nervousness, hoping that she was doing a decent acting job and that the man would accept her bait. After a few agonizing seconds, his face split into a grin and he visibly became very excited, “Oh, I’ve seen Wicked, it’s by far my favorite show, you were phenomenal, Mrs. Menzel!” His French accent couldn’t hide a familiar lisp that came along with gay men. It was stereotypical to think such but Maureen had picked the right day to visit the store for every gay man in the world was a sucker for Broadway. “What can we do for you today and who is this lovely young woman with you?”

Mrs Nadir Khan

06-23-2010, 08:22 AM

Madeleine de Chandon

Madeleine folded her arms and inclined her head expectantly, waiting for Maureen to muster the courage to put on the superhero costume. But, instead, a spark seemed to cross Maureen’s face and her eyes riveted away from the outfit into some distant place in outer space.

“Earth to Maureen…!” Madeleine hissed.

Unless, of course, Maureen was too chicken to try it on. Madeleine was about to taunt as much to get a rise out of her friend, when Maureen hissed back, “Just go along with it.”

“Oookay, sure,” Madeleine mumbled, raising her watch to eye level to check the time. She could almost hear the Jeopardy! Theme music as she waited on Maureen to take action… Any action.

When Madeleine looked up, Maureen was halfway to the front desk. Madeleine rushed after Maureen, her name forming on Madeleine’s lips, but stopping somewhere in her throat as Maureen began to speak.

“Do you know who I am?”

Madeleine froze behind Maureen. What. The. Hell. She was Maureen Dawson, opera pianist. And her point was…?

“Obviously not by the way your nose is stuck up in the air. Perhaps if you’d lower your nose, you’d be able to see past it to who’s in front of you….”

The man looked over Maureen again and Madeleine tried to follow. Yeah, so what? It was Maureen. Sure, she was beautiful, but chances were the guys working in an upscale fashion store were gay. Not only gay, but French and gay….

“Of course you wouldn’t know me here, there is no real theater…Idina Menzel…perhaps you’d recognize me better if I were in green paint?”

Did she know this guy or something? Doused in green paint sounded kind of… kinky, if you asked Madeleine. But, then again, almost anything could be….

“Oh, I’ve seen Wicked, it’s by far my favorite show, you were phenomenal, Mrs. Menzel!”

Wait… Who? Madeleine tried to catch Maureen’s eye and then it hit her. Wicked was… A movie? Right? Or was it a play?

Who the hell cared? Maureen was pretending to be someone famous. And Madeleine was never one for passing up a good opportunity to make a scene.

“What can we do for you today and who is this lovely young woman with you?”

“Rochelle Beaumont, Ms. Menzel’s publicist. ” She extended a hand to the man. “We are in Paris to find Ms. Menzel an appropriately exquisite outfit for her upcoming benefit gala.”

That sounded legitimate, right?

“If only your service had been up-to-par, we might have found what Ms. Menzel was looking for, but as you clearly have no regard for your clientele, we must simply take her business elsewhere.”

That would get a reaction, if anything.

“Ms. Menzel,” she said in a faux-whisper, “I hear Chanel has some excellent options—and better customer service…”

PhAnToMeSs07

06-23-2010, 05:49 PM

Maureen Dawson

“Rochelle Beaumont, Ms. Menzel’s publicist. We are in Paris to find Ms. Menzel an appropriately exquisite outfit for her upcoming benefit gala.” She exhaled a barely audible sigh of relief when Madeleine jumped right in, glad that even if she didn’t know who Idina Menzel was, she at least mentioned something that a person on Broadway would end up attending. “If only your service had been up-to-par, we might have found what Ms. Menzel was looking for, but as you clearly have no regard for your clientele, we must simply take her business elsewhere.” Somewhere in the back of her mind, she noted lightly that had Madeleine been the type for dating, she would probably pursue her for things just like this. She was spontaneous and just as mischievous as she, if not more so at times, and she loved it.

He was floundering behind his desk already at her words, searching something to say but failing for now at least. She jumped when Madeleine leaned close to her, whispering yet keeping her voice at an audible level, “Ms. Menzel, I hear Chanel has some excellent options—and better customer service…” She nodded in agreement and turned to leave when the man behind the desk practically shouted, “No Wait! I’m…I’m terribly sorry for my attitude towards you both. I was trained to be like that while I worked in here. Anyways, perhaps I could throw in a free item or two with whatever outfit you decide on for your benefit….for the both of you? Perhaps you’d both like to just try some things on…you don’t even have to purchase anything…” He was desperately trying to keep them and Maureen grinned at Madeleine as she came to a stop at the door, “Perhaps we can try this again Rochelle, he seems to be sorry enough for his actions.”

“I would like to try on this….beautiful ensemble over here. It’s not really appropriate for the event I’m going to but, something about it appeals to me. Do you think we could get this going?” He literally jumped at her words, “Certainly, Mrs. Menzel, give me a few minutes to get the fitting room set up.” He grabbed the outfit and mannequin gently and walked towards the back of the store, giving she and Madeleine some privacy. And just when he was out of earshot, she turned to Madeleine, covering her mouth once more to stifle her chuckle, “I’m sorry I didn’t forewarn you but there was no way he was going to let us get past looking at everything in here. I’ve dealt with these idiots once before. I had to do something drastic.” She shrugged, “besides, it looks like we get to take something home with us from here after all.”

Mrs Nadir Khan

06-23-2010, 07:09 PM

MystMoonstruck

06-25-2010, 07:48 AM

OOC: Easy will be meeting Gerard Bonnaire. He certainly needs advice about fashion, as anyone at all familiar with Cat's dressing habits knows. *giggle* BIC:

Easy "Cat" Tanner

What had possessed him to come into this place?! That was the question echoing through Easy's dazed mind as he stood in the middle of the boutique, surrounded by a dazzling array of clothing that he had thought might yield a new look, a fresh path, something apart from streetboy or shabby finery left over from Jamil Mehmet's attempts to turn him into a young gentleman. Today, he had worn a black suit not quite as worn as the others, realizing that it was too loose because he still was not eating regularly, even with the presence of newfound son Eden. His shirt was white linen and well-worn to even an uncritical eye. He knew that he should have worn a pair of nicer shoes~the loafer type, but shoes meant socks, and he hated socks, so he wore black short boots, the pair with the least scuffs and creases but with a finish that demanded polishing, which he could not remember to do or even ask to be done. He had become rather painfully aware that he should have made wiser choices since it was inevitable that he would have to doff his footwear in order to find something suitable to wear with the new clothing~if he should manage to settle on anything, which was looking increasingly unlikely.

At that thought, he nearly turned and headed for the door, not wanting to deal with this and uncertain that he wanted to force himself through the ordeal. Why was he doing it? He was still torn between staying at the Opera House and perhaps graduating to the stage or losing himself in his old way of life, even returning to California to do so. Only, his life here had cost so much that he could never be out of debt to Rafe Chancery and Jamil Mehmet, and his "freedom fund" wasn't growing as quickly as he had hoped, money with which he could repay some of his debts. Standing in this boutique meant he would be spending even more of their money, committing himself to their eventual plans for him. Perhaps he would find nothing of interest and walk out emptyhanded. After all, he had never developed any sort of fashion sense, even with some guidance from Jules. The memory of the young Frenchman brought pain with it, but a faded pang as newer wounds took the place of that loss.

Pausing to stare in disbelief at a rack of shirts that looked as if they were intended for vacationing tourists, what with the prints of palm fronds and surfboards, Easy dazedly wondered at the prices this place demanded. Yes, he'd done a little homework beforehand, mainly eavesdropping around shoppers, which is why he had ended up here, at the mercy of a salesclerk who apparently thought he knew what he was looking for.

Sure you do, Cat! You had to namedrop, huh? Mention the Mehmet name and have 'em fall all over you. At least that name carried enough weight that they wouldn't treat him as snootily as he truly deserved. It was as if the clerk was waiting for him to ask for one of each. Oh man... What've I gotten myself into?! What's my color? Mostly black! But, he couldn't say that, not if he was going to shed his present appearance for a new one. He knew he was trying the man's patience as he turned down each suggestion, trying to impress on the clerk that he had to have long sleeves, which obviously perplexed the achingly elegant-looking employee who undoubtedly realized that he was dealing with a young man with absolutely no taste but with so much money at his command that he must be pleased! The thought made Easy feel terribly guilty because how can you please someone with no fashion sense whatsoever outside of dressing for a night on the streets?

"Long sleeves," he tried again, trying to speak as clearly as possible as if that might help in some way, "and no really bright bunches of color," he decided, waving both hands above a rack of such shirts as if he could conjure them away. "No flowers or~or other stuff." Help! went out his mental shout of despair. Please?!

masquerading rose

06-25-2010, 05:26 PM

Gerard Bonnaire

The doctor walked quickly into the store, his long coat trailing behind him. "Yes, mom," he said into his cell phone to an anxious and busy mother. "Why can't you send dad to do it? This is so far out of my comfort-- no, mom, I'm not wearing the long coat," he lied. "My shirt? I don't know, cyan? That's a colour, right?" He said into the reciever. "Yes, mom." Gerard ran a large hand down his face, careful to take slow and steady breaths as to not say something that would upset his mother. "Yes, mom. I'll be sure to get the... wait. What? That's not a colour, mom." Gerard was genuinely confused now. "No. Arsenic is a metalloid, not a colour... Alright, but only if you're sure they'll understand what you mean by "aresenic"... Okay, if you say so..." He couldn't just go into this high-class fashion boutique and ask for five yards of "arsenic chiffon". They'd either look at him like he's insane or give him something poisonous. But mother did know best, and Gerard valued his life, so he wasn't going to argue with her.

He sighed. "I love you, too, Au revior." He hung up the phone and being spotted by a worker, Gerard hastily shoved it in his pocket. "Monsieur Bonnaire!" he said in a voice too fake and too pompous for Gerard to even really pay attention. Having been raised around this store, he was used to the way they waited on him hand and foot, but as they fitted him for clothes, he couldn't help but wonder if they washed their hands in between customers. "Is there anything, anything at all I can get for you?"

Gerard shrugged. He had seen his mother order things, food things within clothing stores, something Gerard thought was usually for waiters in resteraunts. Last he checked, Jean-Paul Gaultier was a fashion designer (a very rich and famous one at that), not a waiter, nor were the workers within his stores. He thought back to what his mother and father had asked for in the past. "I don't know. Maybe a sandwich? But in reality, I'm just here to pick up something for my mom... some, uhm, arsenic chiffon... nine yards?"
"What an interesting choice!" What was Gerard supossed to say to that? Thank you? You're mother is one talented woman. We'll get that right out to you, Monsieur Bonnaire." The man disappeared into a back room and commanded someone to fetch him a sandwich. He made mention of Gerard's last name the other man quickly left his other customer to make the afore mentioned sandwich. They returned with his fabric and Gerard settled down into a nearby chair with his ham and cheese on rye. Oh. So that's chiffon.

He glanced down at his sandwich. Judging by the speed at which they returned it to him, they probably didn't wash their hands before making this. It wasn't a resteraunt, and judging by the man's over-washed, long locks of hair, one of those strands of sandy hair-do probably ended up in his bread. Suddenly, he didn't feel much like eating. He set it down and examined this large amount of fabric his mother had ordered. Arsenic didn't sound like a pretty colour, but his mother wasn't a world-famous fashion designer for nothing.

But a thought hit Gerard: what if they gave him the wrong colour? He glanced around nervously. Spotting a young man with far better fashion sense than his own, he crossed over to him. "Excuse me, young man," he said in a low voice as to not be humiliated by the workers, "is this arsenic?"

MystMoonstruck

06-26-2010, 03:08 AM

Easy "Cat" Tanner

If there was anything Easy might have least expected, it probably was hearing someone ask, "Excuse me, young man, is this arsenic?" as he was shown a pile of material. The question was nudged to the side as the tawny gaze studied the handsome, impeccably dressed, very elegant man before him. His lips parted as if to speak then closed, suddenly remembering a line from some movie: "We are not a codfish!" Breaking out of the momentary spell, he glanced at the material and sorted through his memories for arsenic.

"Arsenic?" It came out in an embarrassing squeak, completely unlike his pleasing, velvety voice, so he cleared his throat carefully and tried again. "Arsenic? Isn't that~um~poison?" He blushed, realizing that his stupidity was showing again. Considering that he felt his ignorance was barely concealed most of the time, it didn't take much to look dumb he supposed. "I'm sorry. Guess I don't understand," he had to admit though he wanted to seem smooth and savvy. "They don't know?" he wondered, glancing quickly at the clerks in the vicinity. Then, he grinned ruefully and admitted, "I was looking for help myself. I should be asking you questions, Monsieur, because you look as if you're here a lot." Belatedly, he had realized that he should have used the title earlier, as the man certainly looked deserving of such courtesy. Even more belatedly, he thought of how it sounded, as if the man spent his life shopping! Way to go, Cat! "Not that I think you, like, hang around stores all of the time!" He rushed to add, stumbling over this words in a way that made him wish that he could disappear into the floor.

"I~I'm sorry." Bowing his head, he found himself seeing the vast difference between the man's shoes and clothing and his own, his shabbiness glaring in his eyes. He was almost afraid to look up again, but he did, wishing that he could do something to impress this man and wondering why he cared so much as to why a stranger mattered. When he did look up at the man his look of pleading in his tawny eyes was in sharp contrast to the smile he had forced into place, and he proffered his hand. "My name is Easy Tanner." It was up to the man whether to accept the offer. After all, the man had spoken to him first and that had been a request for advice, probably a first in Easy Tanner's life. Sure, he could give advice~bad advice!

OOC: I'm sorry for this poor post. Easy falls apart in such surroundings and when confronted by an attractive male. He is fated never to be suave and debonair. *giggle* BIC:

PhAnToMeSs07

06-26-2010, 04:04 AM

Madeleine de Chandon

Sometimes, Madeleine wondered what she would have been if not a dancer. Maybe a lawyer? As she shot rapid-fire sentences at him—all BS of course. And if she’d been a lawyer, it would have been no crime to screw the occasional secretary or intern. Hmm… But right now, Madeleine wasn’t a dancer or a lawyer she was a publicist named… .****. What was her name? Didn’t matter because she and Maureen were so unbelievably out of there…

“No Wait! I’m…I’m terribly sorry for my attitude towards you both. I was trained to be like that while I worked in here. Anyways, perhaps I could throw in a free item or two with whatever outfit you decide on for your benefit….for the both of you? Perhaps you’d both like to just try some things on…you don’t even have to purchase anything…”

Madeleine couldn’t believe her ears. A grin wiggled its way on her lips, which she attempted to disguise as expectant pleasure—a hard thing to do when she didn’t expect the guy to fall hook-line-and-sinker for the whole thing. Some people were stupid enough to believe anything. Because, honestly, Madeleine didn’t know any publicists who wore, well, Madeleine’s clothes to do official business in. And back in the day, back at the Royal Ballet Company, Madeleine had known her share of publicists. As Prima Ballerina, she had even had one of her own. God, what was that man’s name….? Ah well, didn’t matter. All Madeleine knew was that he had been pompous to everyone but his precious client (aka her) and she would do the same for as long as Maureen wanted to pretend to be her client. And besides, star treatment? He-llo! She was SO there.

“Perhaps we can try this again Rochelle, he seems to be sorry enough for his actions.”

Rochelle! That was her fake name. Madeleine inclined her head in acquiesce.

“Whatever you’d like, Ms. Menzel,” she murmured.

“I would like to try on this….beautiful ensemble over here. It’s not really appropriate for the event I’m going to but, something about it appeals to me. Do you think we could get this going?” He literally jumped at her words, “Certainly, Mrs. Menzel, give me a few minutes to get the fitting room set up.”

Madeleine watched the store clerk bustle about to ready a dressing room. When he was out of earshot and line of sight, Madeleine started to laugh, clasping a hand over her mouth just in case.

“I’m sorry I didn’t forewarn you but there was no way he was going to let us get past looking at everything in here. I’ve dealt with these idiots once before. I had to do something drastic.” She shrugged, “besides, it looks like we get to take something home with us from here after all.”

“Oh the perks of fame,” Madeleine half-jested.

She remembered her own little diva-act from what seemed like a million years ago. She’d been so young, so immature, so obviously, she demanded to be treated like a queen when she was Prima Ballerina. High strung didn’t even begin to cover it. And maybe that was one of her biggest regrets; not enjoying fame and fortune when it lasted. Madeleine bit her lip and shook her head.

Lowering her voice she asked, “So, who are you pretending to be, exactly?”

Maureen Dawson (http://www2.pictures.zimbio.com/gi/Jean+Paul+Gaultier+Paris+Fashion+Week+Haute+WCVQba eLgljl.jpg)

“So who are you pretending to be, exactly?” Maureen gave her an incredulous look but quickly wiped it away and reminded herself that not everyone knew who the most famous Broadway stars were over here, much less knew that she herself used to be one. She realized in the same instant that Madeleine didn’t really know much about her life pre-Paris anyways. They were friends but the past was something they seemed to tip toe around as if that deep dark secret would jump out of the closet at any minute. Everyone had something they were ashamed of and if not ashamed of, a part of their life they didn’t want to discuss. She was well aware that there was something Madeleine preferred not to speak about just like she had her own demons to deal with. It was a certain gleam to her eyes and a tone of her voice when they got close to speaking about such things that gave it away. And yet, here today, treading so close to discussing things that were very dear to her, parts of her life she tried to forget about because of how much she missed it, she couldn’t help but see herself willing to finally open up a little to Madeleine.

In truth, answering her question was telling some of her past. She admired Idina and envied her beyond comprehension. Idina had succeeded the way she had longed to. And so she answered the question in truth, “Idina Menzel is one of Broadway’s highest paid actresses. She’s not Barbara Streissand but she’s phenomenal nonetheless. She was my top competition. I only beat her out in the box office once for a short run because she was filming a movie. If she was performing, there was no beating her. I used to get furious when people compared me to her. I was…let’s see how did they put it? ‘an Idina look and sound alike that didn’t quite deliver.” She sighed, rolling her eyes in the process, “I just wanted to be my own self but I couldn’t stop getting compared to her. It was tiring. Still, I admire the woman and she’s not bad on the eyes….I’d have jumped her had I been given the chance.” She smiled wistfully, remembering her days on Broadway, “But, we’ll talk more about the past later, now’s not quite the time. That’s your basic overview though.”

It was just as well that she stopped talking for the sales clerk returned, smiling and bowing to her every wish. “You’ll have to give me your honest opinion,” she whispered, and just like that, she was whisked away to the dressing room. She slipped into the thick panty hose which was surprisingly a full body suit followed by the skin tight leotard top. The boots were brought from the back in her size and they went up to her thighs just as the gloves on her hands went up to her elbows. It only took the jacket being half on for her to feel like a completely different person. She came barreling out of the dressing room, ignoring the sales clerk as she placed her hands on her hips, taking on a classic hero type pose as she looked to the distance, “So, what do you think?”

masquerading rose

06-27-2010, 07:09 PM

Gerard Bonnaire

One simple question, and the boy was stammering and rambling on. But Gerard didn't really care. He had patients who would tell him their life story as soon as Gerard asked if they were feeling any pain ('Pain? Pain?! You want to talk to me about pain? I have three kids, an ex-husband, a crippling mortgage, a sick horse, a raccoon investation... Doctor you, know nothing about pain!'). So Gerard wasn't going to judge. "Arsenic?" he squeaked, "Arsenic? Isn't that~um~poison? I'm sorry. Guess I don't understand. They don't know?" See? 'aresnic' was a poison, not a colour. Just because he was colour-blind didn't mean he was stupid. One point for Gerard; zero for his mother.

"I was looking for help myself. I should be asking you questions, Monsieur, because you look as if you're here a lot." Gerard raised a dark eyebrow at this. Did he really? His mother always gave him different clothes to wear when he arrived for a visit, and she warned store owners of his "condition" before he got there. When he was a teenager (many moons ago), his mother actually set up a numbering system that supposedly made matching clothes easier. It did, that is, until all of the sharpie got washed off his tag. To tell the truth, the boy in front of him looked far better dressed than he. The boy stumbled over his words again, "Not that I think you, like, hang around stores all of the time!" Gerard laughed. Ain't that the truth? he did, but he hated to. Stores were to him like oil was to water; they didn't mix, and if ever they did, something was wrong.

"I~I'm sorry. My name is Easy Tanner." And Gerard took the hand offered to him. "Doctor Gerard Bonnaire, but you can call me Gerard for short." he said. "Don't worry about it, Easy. I did the same thing when I was your age. You'll grow out of it." And he meant it. When he was Easy's age, he stumbled and spoke in awkward circles and felt like a fool. Gerard wasn't concerned. In fact, he pitited the young man. "Do you want a sandwich?" Gerard asked, passing it to the skinny boy before him. Gerard wasn't fat, far from it, but at least he had some meat on his bones. The boy in front of him looked hungry. Gerard was a doctor. He knew what was good for you, and besides, he had lost his appetite anyways.

MystMoonstruck

08-24-2010, 10:26 AM

OOC: WOW! I cannot believe the problem got fixed! Do you think we can piece together our posts and continue this encounter? I found the next part and might have the one after that among our PMs if you don't have your copy. BIC:

Easy "Cat" Tanner

As the nattily-dressed gentlemen accepted his handshake then introduced himself, Easy found himself more~well~at ease, realizing that he wasn't being judged harshly for his rambling way of speaking. He felt a bit more balanced at the feeling of acceptance from this handsome doctor who obviously understood the confusion about arsenic. He ventured a timid smile as he began to relax.

"Doctor Gerard Bonnaire, the man had said, "but you can call me Gerard for short." That was heartening to the youth: They were on a first-name basis already, and the man showed no hesitation when he used the youth's uncomfortably unusual name without a trace of jokiness or even disdain, as he had heard when the equally elegant Evrard had spoken it in Franconi's Stables that night of the Christmas gala. "Don't worry about it, Easy. I did the same thing when I was your age. You'll grow out of it." Easy smiled more fully, his gratitude painfully apparent, the sort of moment that, if he were a canine, he would be waggling his tail, or, much closer to his generally feline behavior, practically purring, feeling caressed by words. Somehow, he believed this man, that he could grow out of this awkwardness. That the man might be mistaking him for much younger than he was crossed his mind and was encouraging. Looking in the mirror, he still saw an unlined face that belied the fact that he very soon would be considered a man, no longer even a youth, and he tried to not let that bother him.

"Do you want a sandwich?" Gerard asked, trying to pass him the plate.

Easy gasped, as if the arsenic spoken of was on that plate, and his hands went into hiding behind him as a wave of nausea swept over him. "N-no~thank you~Monsieur~um~Doctor~um~Gerard. I~I'm not really hungry." He hesitated then, thinking that he had not acted politely, hurried to add, "Thank you for offering." There. That sounded better, so his hands came out of hiding to hang at his side, twitching from nervousness. "The guy was going on about that earlier, asking about something to eat or drink. The others~they know I don't usually want anything. Been~um~I have been here before, but I never seem to buy anything, not since~since a~um~friend used to help me. I'm not very good with stuff like this~clothes~how to look different. Y'know how people have different~um~looks? I've got maybe two." He held up V'd fingers. "Suits or jeans 'n' Tees." Feeling suddenly daring, he glanced up at the man, one of his crooked grins playing about his lips, and asked, "How 'bout you, Gerard? Do you only do suits?" He wasn't certain why he was acting on the edge of cheeky with the man, as he certainly had shown no signs of interest beyond casual friendship. "Maybe we can ask these guys about the arsenic. They're used to me sounding dumb. I don't mind."