Re: Rooftop.
She had yet to touch her wine until a man in a three piece suit approached her with all the charm in the world, the kind of smile that was half sunshine and half ill intention. Even now, some things were hardwired(he reminded her of her husband), and Brielle shrank away from his advantage with a false smile and a slight draw of almost apologetic shoulders. Those shoulders were bare and beautifully pale, save for the fading bruises. In such low lighting, the discoloration was barely notable anyway.
The man wandered off, whiskey drink in hand, smirking to his friends as they passed the skylight with some offhand comment about Ice Bitch.
Her black heels were low, and migration was no problem. She moved with a dreamy quality, a woman recently awoken from strange coma where worlds like this were so strange. Not quite beautiful, there weren't enough plants blooming here. No ivy dripping from enclaves, no roses.. but even that was okay. She didn't even wonder why she desired their presence at all.
The bubbles of sparkling wine sizzled on her tongue when she passed the skylight, all celestial chiffon and oleander milk skin. That is, of course, when she saw Jack. It took a moment because the skylight was distracting enough, and her expression contorted into one of pleased amusement. A little surprised, but pleased. Stepping closer, she knelt on the toes of those dark sandals. The slit in her dress was a high cut, and it exposed the dark lace of her slip. Something that she perhaps intended to bring something demurred to the outfit, but really only caught the eye with daydream visions of what she might look like without the dress at all. Black lace eyelets, satin.
"Are you hiding?" The question was a smile, something unearthed and not seen it years. Its excavation was a discovery in itself, the way teeth tucked gently at her lip. "Is it a woman?" She asked with a new grin, somehow knowing that women were always more intimidating than men, and greatly worth hiding from.