Re: VIP Area
Standing on a table was a guaranteed way to draw attention, which hadn't necessarily been Luke's intention, not beyond Wren, but he had enough alcohol in him that he managed to make it work rather than faltering. Back in New York, before things had gone to hell, he'd hated the sort of events people like Thomas (and himself, by extension) were obligated to attend. He'd been awkwardly polite, uncertain, wishing he was elsewhere-- but things were different now, and he no longer had such a heavy weight to bear. There was no image for him to uphold, really. The media had already painted him as a sort of tragic hero, the father who fought for the son he'd never known about, but beyond that there was no obligation. These people were strangers, some familiar from having worked security for years, but they didn't recognize him; surely they never would have expected a security guard to be somewhere like this. He was, as far as they knew, a friend of Simon's, and thankfully no one seemed to recognize him as anything else. If they did, well, they didn't say anything, and that was what mattered to him.
So he grinned, and he laughed, and he made slurred jokes that probably didn't make full sense, never mind being funny, yet elicited laughter regardless. The level of liquid in the bottle he held crept lower, and he kept an eye out for Wren despite the fact that the woman with the fruity drink lingered, attempting to draw him into conversation any way she knew how. Luke didn't outright ignore her, which she likely saw as encouragement; hence, why she stayed. He was just about to sit, since his sense of balance was beginning to feel distinctly off, when he finally noticed Wren in the crowd, and he openly stared as she approached his table. "Definitely out of your league," someone called from behind him, which was met with scattered laughter, and Luke held up one finger in a silent 'fuck you' without turning around. The woman near his table eyed Wren like some kind of jungle cat, but he was more focused on the crowd of people she'd just left, on the slow realization that they were part of two different worlds now, and mostly on how good she looked in that dress.
"Maybe," he slurred down at her, all cocky grin and confidence that came with the warm buzz of alcohol and was betrayed by the way his gaze moved over her. "I'm looking for something specific. Very specific. What about you?"