Sloan 'Seven' Morgan & Alcide Herveaux (awerething) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2012-08-17 03:10:00 |
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Entry tags: | alcide herveaux, raoul de chagny |
Who: Seven & Liam
What: Shameless flirting. Poor Liam.
Where: The Bank at the Bellagio
When: Backdated like whoa.
Warnings/Rating: Lots of smirking and 'casual' touching.
“Darling, you look positively lost,” Seven called out in his low, gruff voice, evidently amused, sidling up to the only man waiting by the fountains with a look on his face that bordered on bewilderment. “That must make you Liam. Seven Morgan,” he added, thrusting his hand out and grasping the other man’s in a firm and friendly shake, a lazy grin firmly fixed on his face. Cute. Even if he does dress off the rack. Not even a tie, for Pete’s sake. Seven kept his thoughts and his faint exasperation to himself, grateful for his connections at the Bellagio that would allow them access to Seven’s VIP table despite Liam’s very casual attire. Having lived so long in Vegas, he marveled at the fact that anyone could expect to go anywhere without a four-figure price tag and a name brand on their suit - and, in slight horror, realized that he sounded to himself very much like a snobbish label queen. Suppressing a shudder, he brushed some imaginary lint off the lapel of his jacket and resisted the urge to look the man over too thoroughly. No use frightening him off before Seven even got a drink in him. “Shall we?” With a gesture in the direction of their destination, Seven turned on his heel and led the way toward the entrance. A quick glance over his shoulder assured him that his guest - for even though it had been Liam who invited him out for a drink, it was Seven’s name and reputation that would get them into the club - was following close behind. “So, been in Vegas long?” Liam turned at the sound of the voice directed towards him, his brows lifting as he got his first look of Seven Morgan. Shaking his hand, Liam offered him a smile that was all Southern charm. “Liam Roberts,” he said by way of greeting, immediately taken in by the friendly, gregarious personality that the other man exuded. He could feel the way those eyes sized him up, but Liam wasn’t one to be ashamed by anything. It wasn’t so much confidence that he held but a comfort in his own body, in who he was, that few people really took hold of. “And we shall,” Liam responded, following behind Seven though a few steps took him up at the other man’s side, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his pants, and he knew he looked quite different from his companion, though this was truly as dressed up as Liam ever got. “Since February,” he answered, his tone conversational. “Came here on the prompting of those journals. It’s been a big change from Mississippi, I’ll quite assure you of that. Yourself?” “Ten long, fruitful years,” Seven replied with a crooked smile, glancing at Liam out of the corner of his eye. “Although it seems more like forever. I’m from the Bronx, originally. Needless to say, the desert took some getting used to.” It was quite possibly the understatement of the century. Seven had had a rather severe culture shock to deal with, being transplanted from the slippery streets where he’d grown up to the frying pan that was Las Vegas. Having to make the move against his will certainly hadn’t helped, but he supposed that it was a sight better than winding up in a New York State prison for thirty years or so. When they reached The Bank’s entrance, Seven swept around the long line of partygoers that snaked around the side of the building and sauntered up to the bouncers. He was met with smiles and exchanged a couple of elaborate handshakes with the large, muscular men in the black t-shirts before being ushered inside. He checked to see if Liam was following, quirking an eyebrow and tilting his head in the direction of the club’s interior, from which loud music was spilling every time the door opened. “Well? Are you coming in?” “Do you ever really get used to it, though?” Liam asked of getting used to the desert, a small smile pulling at his lips. He didn’t think he would ever get used to the dry air, the hot sun, the general attitude of the desert city. It wasn’t home, and Liam was fairly certain it would never be home. But for now, it was interesting, and the people he had met, he couldn’t leave them behind. He gave a glance to the line that waited to get into the bar, and for a moment, Liam had to wonder how they would ever get in. That thought lasted until Seven led the way around the line and up to the bouncers, and with raised brows, Liam gave them a look, and then back to Seven, a smile breaking out over his lips. “Of course I’m coming,” he responded, all soft Southern drawl, close on the other man’s heels as he stepped over the threshold. “Of course you do!” Seven had to shout to be heard over the music in this particular section of the club, leaning in close so that his spearmint breath grazed over the pale column of Liam’s neck. “The dust that gets into everything, the old tanned ladies that look like leather purses, the crackheads that line the strip like paving stones! Give it a couple of years and it’ll all start to blend into the background. Soon you’ll forget what ‘normal’ looks like, but honey, I will tell you now - you won’t find it in Vegas.” Finally they passed through a heavy door and into a section of the club that was roped off, marked VIP and stuffed full of beautiful women with about three inches of clothing each and the rich, fat bankers or stylish playboys that accompanied them. There wasn’t even an empty table in sight until they reached another roped off section, a VIP area within the VIP area, with its own black-shirted bouncer and a comfortable booth set back into the wall for privacy. Seven stepped out of the way so that Liam could slide into the booth first, then leaned in close again even though they were able to hear each other much more easily over here. “What would you like?” Coffee, tea, or me? Liam’s breath caught for just the smallest of moments when Seven leaned in to talk to him, the press of bodies, the music that pounded through one’s body, thrumming and pulsing. “When you put it that way,” Liam responded, leaning in just as close to offer his own response, the only way to be heard over the music, “then I’m not entirely sure I want to get used to the city.” It was said with a smile, however, the expression softening by several measures as they weaved through the people, through another door, giving Liam a good taste of what life on this side of the velvet ropes was like. It wasn’t particularly his taste, too much skin and too little taste, but he didn’t comment on that. Pushed into the new area, something quieter, Liam slid into the booth that Seven gestured to, giving the man a look that was all raised brows as he slid in beside him, close enough to be considered intimate. To his credit, Liam did not attempt to lean away, instead leaning in towards the table, long fingers laced together on the glossy black tabletop. “Uhm,” Liam started, doubting that anything in this place would be kind to his wallet, though no matter, he would insist on paying. “Whatever’s good on tap will suit me just fine,” he answered, giving a smile that was all Southern boy. “Do you come here often? They seem to know you, at least,” Liam said, his ears ringing with the music from earlier, though here it was much quieter. “Do they?,” he asked with raised eyebrows as if say ’who, me?’, his relentless smile teasing, leaning forward on one elbow and wondering with no small amount of curiosity if Liam could really be as much of an innocent Southern boy as he seemed, or if it was perhaps all an act. As amusing as Seven found it, he was fine either way. “Well, I suppose that could have something to do with the amount of business that I conduct here. Not to mention all the charming small-town Southern men that I bring here in order to turn them into debauched Vegas troublemakers.” It was possible that Seven’s eyebrows would fly right off his forehead, what with their state of constantly being raised and lowered. He was tempted to tease Liam just a bit further, but was interrupted by a well-dressed waitress who materialized at his elbow to take their orders. “Samantha! Hello darling,” he positively purred, standing up to give her a one-armed hug from his place in the booth. “How’s your mother? Still dancing at the Sapphire? Be a good girl and tell her I say hi. Now,” he returned to his seat and regarded Liam for a thoughtful moment, tapping two fingers against his lower lip. “My attractive friend and I will each take a pint of Hofbräu Maibock, I think. Thanks, love.” “You can actually hear enough conversation to be able to conduct business here?” Liam asked, a note of incredulity in his voice, but it was said in amusement as Seven leaned forward towards him, shaking his head in some amusement as he looked away. He wasn’t entirely sure why he was here, because this clearly wasn’t ‘just’ a meeting between two good ol’ boys having a drink, but he wasn’t entirely sure what it was if it wasn’t. Time would tell, he supposed, and it was time that he started getting out of the apartment now that his latest book was done. Fun came between books, a time to unwind before he had to buckle down to get started on the next. When Seven teased about what he did to small-town Southern men, Liam had to let out a laugh. “A corruptor of the innocent, are you?” He was ready to go on when the waitress approached, and it was Liam’s turn to settle back to watch this interaction. It was clear that Seven and the waitress, Samantha, were at least somewhat acquainted with one another judging by the familiarity that they interacted. As the attention was brought back to him, Liam tried to look casual, likely failing miserably as he settled with his back against the booth, one arm stretched out over the top of it behind him. Attractive friend? Liam thought, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a smile. When the waitress had departed, Liam gave Seven a look. “First of all,” he started, his southern drawl seemingly more pronounced. “I’m not sure if I can be considered ‘attractive’, and second of all, is that beer that you ordered or... because I can’t say that I’ve ever heard of that.” Seven smiled as if to say, how adorable, and yet somehow it was not patronizing. Simply amused, as ever. “Liam, Liam, Liam,” he said in a chiding voice, reaching over to pat the other man on the arm and giving a lazy shake of his head with every repetition of the man’s name. “You’re a writer, correct? I assume that means most of your business is conducted over the phone and email, or impersonal meetings with your agency and your publishers. So I can forgive you for being ignorant of the simple fact that not all business -” and here his voice took on that special quality, a reverent cadence that he adopted when speaking about his profession that revealed how highly he thought of what he did for a living. “- is conducted through mere conversation. Sometimes I find that taking a man out and treating him to an enjoyable evening is a far more efficient way of coming to agreeable business terms than sitting in a stuffy office and signing paperwork.” He was once again interrupted by the very beautiful Samantha, who appeared at his elbow with their frosty pints less than a minute and a half after he’d ordered them. He smiled and tipped her with a twenty for her attentive service, and then he slid one of the glasses over to his date for the evening. “Hofbräu Maibock,” he repeated. “One of the finest German beers you will ever have the luxury of tasting outside of Hamburg.” Liam glanced down to the hand that was patting him so gently on the arm, his brows raising in silent question though he said nothing of the contact. “You are quite correct in how I handle business. They don’t pay me to be charming, after all, and I’m more likely to have to take them out to dinner to get their attention at times.” The corner of his mouth lifted in a smile as he looked up at the waitress as she approached with their beers. He didn’t say anything until the beer was in front of him and they were alone once more, fingers curling around the cold mug. “Somehow, the way you put agreeable business terms alludes to a lot more than you’re letting on,” Liam commented before taking a sip. He was no connoisseur of beer by any means, but even he had to admit that there was something good and appealing about the brew. “Ah,” he nodded with a playful smirk curling at the edges of his lips, lifting his own pint in acknowledgement of his companion before he took a sip. “Clearly you’ve picked up on the ‘mysterious rogue’ vibe that I have so carefully cultivated in my life. Clever man.” He tapped one finger against the end of his nose and then aimed it in Liam’s direction, giving him the sort of sly appraisal that he employed so frequently. Ever the picture of careless charm, Seven leaned back against the cushioned seat with one arm slung along the back of the booth, curving just slightly around behind Liam’s shoulder - close enough that it would be impossible for the other man to ignore his proximity, almost as if Seven was daring him to say something. Do something. Move away. Pull closer. Just about anything, because the idea of getting any sort of rise out of him was just the sort of challenge that Seven Morgan lived for. Permeating the impermeable. He grinned into his glass after he’d casually brushed an imaginary piece of lint from Liam’s shoulder - a movement that resulted in such a flinch that Seven was surprised his new friend hadn’t spilled his beer all over both of them. He even had to stifle a laugh against the back of his hand. This was going to be fun. |