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Tweak says, "Hello, Mon Capitane!"

Simon Curtis (simon_curtis) wrote in halcyon_halls,
@ 2008-09-04 12:13:00

Entry tags:

sasha, simon

Week Seventeen- Monday
Who: Simon and Sasha
Where: Downtown, starting outside Heaven and Hell
What: Getting lost and meeting that dog... and Sasha too
When: Monday around 11:15am

No. Fucking. Way.

Simon stared at the sign hanging in the window of Heaven and Hell with disbelief. Closed for the week. Beat it. Short, crude, to the point. How could it be closed? What the hell?? In fairness, if Simon had bothered checking journals or reading posts the school made at all recently, he would have known this information. He was just so excited about the prospect of rule-breaking that his mind had been all a twitter. He'd pretty much checked out during both his morning classes and raced downtown to scope out the club. He wanted to be sure he knew where he was going for when he and Sydni checked it out. That did not seem to be happening now.

Maybe it was karma. Maybe, since Simon had been neglecting to pray every day like his mother had taught him, he was being punished. Maybe because he planned on breaking the law, God was finding a way to stop him. Maybe this was a sign for him to turn back from evil doings and find the right path again. Or maybe, just maybe, it was just a small spell of bad luck.

"Well that's fucking great," he muttered to himself. "I came down here as fast as I could to stare at an empty building. Great." Well, he supposed he better turn back and get some lunch or something. On the plus side, it gave him more time to find a fake id. He started walking, and all too soon realized he wasn't sure where he had come from or where he should be going now. Fantastic! he thought bitterly. First the club was closed, now he was lost. What other rotten cherries could be placed on this delightful crap sundae?

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vintage_fraud
2008-09-04 02:26 pm UTC (link)

“If you’re looking for the road back to the school, it starts right around the next corner. There’s a taxi station at the end of the street, too; they’ll drive you back on request.”

The voice was calm, polite, and mildly sweet. It matched the girl, a small, neat figure in a watery pink, and the polite expression on her face. It didn’t match the dog at her side, but then there were few things to match a full-grown Doberman with. Few that were pink, anyway.

Sasha tilted her head, not quite smiling at the boy. “You are looking for Halcyon? Unless…sorry, did I get the wrong impression?”

Truth be told, Sasha hadn’t been meaning to start a conversation at all. Instead, she was looking forward to a hearty rustic lunch and pot of tea before her afternoon classes, maybe mulling about an upcoming psychology essay over a cup of Russian Caravan or a plate of ragout. Lanky, roving teens—that looked in need of a stout feeding and a reliable GPS—were not on the menu.

But...

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simon_curtis
2008-09-05 12:57 am UTC (link)

Simon turned slowly, having been startled just a little by the sweet voice that had interrupted his thoughts. He was about to thank the slight girl in pink when he noticed the death machine on the leash beside her. "Jeez!" he yelped, noticeably recoiling. Along with water, dogs were somethign Simon did not get along with. Especially not monster dogs where, anytime he saw one on television or in a movie, they were trying to eat your face.

"Uh, I um... y-yeah, I'm trying to get back to the school." He was speaking to Sasha of course, but he couldn't turn away from that dog. It didn't look all that threatening. The dog would look at Simon with disinterest, then look away to something it found to be far more important... like the patch of dirt over yon. But that was when they got you- when you were lulled into a false sense of security. Because, y'know, dogs are criminal masterminds like that. Especially when they're licking themselves. Pure genius right there.

"I'm sorry," Simon apologized, at least this time facing the person he was taking to. (He still couldn't tear his eyes away from that dog, however.) "I've just... not really a dog kind of... he's big," he finished babbling. "He's not gonna eat me, right?" Simon laughed, intending to make it a joke. But a tiny sprig of panic weaved its way throughout his giggle, making him sound a little insane. Therefore, Sasha could deduce in seconds that he wasn't joking 100% at all.

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vintage_fraud
2008-09-05 12:55 pm UTC (link)

Well, werewolf, he ain’t, Sasha thought wryly, watching the boy nearly bolt out of his own skin at the sight of Dreizen. And while Dizzy was on his best behavior, too. Still, it was just as well she had her paladin on a leash today.

(Dreizen, for his own part, was completely disinterested in the new Not-Human. He didn’t smell like anybody’s pack or like the Other, and he wasn’t aggressive. SASHA was calm, lunch was imminent, and all was right with the world. With any luck somebody would give him a carrot soon.)

“Actually he hasn’t had lunch yet…” Sasha said thoughtfully, her expression showing no sign of teasing. She maintained the solemn façade for a heartbeat longer, watching the boy sweat—and then let the veneer break, smiling openly. “But then neither have I and that hardly inspires danger for innocent bystanders. Don’t worry, Dreizen here, won’t so much as lick your thumb without permission.”

She considered the boy with a clear, brown gaze. There was something nervous tangled up about him, an impression of unease that tasted old as ashes. Had there still been an overload of humidity in the air, she would’ve had a better reading of it. As it was, all Sasha could tell was that the boy looked…nervous. And unhappy.

“Sasha,” she said, extending a cool, dry palm towards him. Her fingertips were bright and smooth as petals. “Zephir House. Are you heading back for class or…?

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simon_curtis
2008-09-05 03:26 pm UTC (link)

At Sasha's reassurance that her dog was not interested in lanky southern boy for lunch, Simon finally managed to look away from that dog and take a good look at the person on the other end of the leash. It was a good thing, too, because no doubt she was a cutie. He managed a genuine smile toward her. "Dreizen?" he asked, still getting over the huge case of the willies. "Very neat name. Hello," he added nervously to the dog, who at the moment wasn't even bothering to look at him. Clearly Dreizen had other things on his mind. Most likely lunch.

He took Sasha's hand and shook it. His palms, unlike hers, were clammy and bony. "I'm Simon, House of Fire." Since she wasn't from the Fire House, he could deduce she at least wasn't a werewolf or a fire maker of any kind. He doubted she'd have a dog on a leash if she were a were, anyway. Jillian was in Zephir House, so maybe Sasha had some kind of mind powers. It was kind of fun trying to guess what everyone at the school could do.

"Class? No," he chuckled, "I'm not that lost. I came out here to check out the night club, Heaven, but it's closed. So I figured I might as well wander back to the school since I had nothing else to do down here, but then I realized I didn't know how to get back, so..." He raised his hands to shoulder level then let them drop. "Here we are."

"But maybe while I'm here, downtown, I should try to find something a little more appropriate for the club scene. Y'know, when it opens." His voice hinted at an accent, most definitely from a southern state. His clothes hinted at a relatively well to do family- pressed collared shirt, crisp cargo khaki shorts, good condition Nike sneakers and a haircut definitely not from a chain salon. Although at the moment it was sort of grown out. Taking one look at him, it was obvious that Simon had never stepped foot into a club and the whole scene would chew up his mamas boy clothes and spit him back into the gutter.

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vintage_fraud
2008-09-08 12:39 pm UTC (link)

“It was a bit of a joke,” she explained, answering the handshake with poise. The skin of his hand was wrapped tight to the bone. “Simon…that’s ‘to be heard’, isn’t it? Your parents must’ve had high aspirations.”

“Ah, that’s right. The club’s changed ownership recently, I think; they’re probably still sorting out the particulars.” She made a small moue of disappointment. “Pity. They’re supposed to have billiards and I’d been meaning to resurrect my luck.”

Sasha did take a look at Simon and one look told her plenty. He wasn’t dressed badly, not all. But unless the island’s club scene was noticeably mild, and its inhabitants particularly charitable,…oh, dear. Despite evidence to the contrary, (including smart pleats and immaculate lipstick and a surfeit of please and thank you’s) Sasha was a fiesta veteran—much to her own displeasure. Deafening music and sticky bartops weren’t her oasis of choice, but they were a good exercise in control and surveillance. She’d learned some of her best tricks in the worst places. Her sense of experience appraised Simon, considered the results, and reached a prompt conclusion: doomed.

Well, charity is a virtue… Besides that kid had a southern flavor, and Sasha had an ingrained fondness for the region.

“Simon, I know this is terribly forward of me…” Sasha began, smile bright as salt. “But I was just on my way to lunch and, well, Dreizen is a wonderful escort but not always the best company; his conversation leaves something to be desired. Would you be interested in joining me perchance?” Her expression was utterly guileless. “Also I’ve pretty much memorized the shopping network around here. That is, if you wanted any recommendations on the matter.”

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simon_curtis
2008-09-09 10:31 pm UTC (link)

Simon shrugged when she asked about his name. "I don't know what it means," he admitted. "I just know it's from the bible. My mom is kinda religious." 'Kinda' was the understatement of the year. But Sasha didn't need to know his dirty laundry.

"I've only ever played pool once, at a friend's house," he told her, making polite conversation. "I was pretty good. Once I figured out the geometry of it, it was really easy." He smuiled a little, hoping he wasn't bragging. But then again, maybe Sasha would challenge him to a game sometime.

"Forward?" he giggled at her proposition. "No, forward is when Cissy asked me out on a date. In my online journal. The second day I was here. Compared to that, asking me to lunch to my face seems par for the course around here." He stepped over to her side- the opposite side as Dreizen, of course, indicating he would walk beside her. "I'd love to go. I don't have class until later this afternoon. And besides, I could use all the advice I can get, fashion wise. The person I'm dressing to impress is very high-class." He paused, taking a look at Sasha's attire. "Like you, actually. Very well dressed, pretty, but elegant. Your opinion would actually be perfect." He smiled widely, silently assuring her that the compliments were sincere and he wasn't simply blowing smoke up her ass.

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vintage_fraud
2008-09-10 10:04 am UTC (link)

“Oh, like the apostle then?” Or the leper. But Sasha doubted any mother was eager to choose that namesake. Then again, mothers could be cruel in invisible ways…Unconsciously, her hand made a vague, partial gesture—not towards her neck, where the ubiquitous cross once hung, but towards the stomach and the joyless metal reminder set in her navel.

“Playing with friends is fun.” Her tone turned momentarily teasing. “But playing with new friends can be extra rewarding. Well, as long as you watch out for sharks.” If he respected the math of the game, then he had the makings of a smart shooter. People who claimed billiards was sheer luck played with the wrong crowd—and lost.

“Flattery,” Sasha laughed, “will get you everywhere. But thank you nonetheless. The restaurant is nearby, actually. You’re not allergic to anything French, I hope?”

Sasha had to make a conscious effort not to take the boy’s arm. The etiquette she grew up with at Josiah’s house was hardly universal, especially amidst Halcyon’s grab-bag of backgrounds. Instead, she settled for setting a friendly walking pace and leading with a polite nod. Dreizen matched her pace automatically.

“So you’re going to Heaven on your first date?” Her eyebrow arched, more than a little wry. “That’s promising.”

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simon_curtis
2008-09-10 01:07 pm UTC (link)

Simon had to quirk an eyebrow. "Sharks?" he asked, utterly confused. You mean like, the sea creatures?" Sydni had once told him about what she called flying sharks... but pool-playing sharks? Surely Sasha was kidding.

"No, I'm not allergic to anything French. Except I think some French perfumes, though that might just be because they smell so strong. But I have no food allergies at all. Which is good, since I eat so much all the time." He was well aware of how lucky he was that his metabolism was so quick. Back at his old high school his few female friends would lament as to how fat they were (and of course they weren't) and how lucky Simon was that he could eat anything he wanted and not gain a pound. Of course, he didn't really see it as 'lucky' when a strong wind could blow you over and a four foot tall freshman girl could pick you up and throw you into a locker (true story).

"No, this isn't our first date," Simon told Sasha, blushing a little. The whole idea that he was dating still seemed unreal. "For our first date we went downtown. Actually, there's the bistro." He pointed across the street to a small Italian place. "I had the alfredo." He remembered what Cissy had been wearing, how nervous he had been, how extremely delicious the Tiramisu had been. "She asked for the first date, I'm asking for the second. But I want it to be perfect, you know? Nothing blows the chance of wooing a girl like something going wrong on a date."

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vintage_fraud
2008-09-10 04:30 pm UTC (link)

“Shark as in hustler,” Sasha explained genially. “Great tutors, but risky company. I wouldn’t be too surprised if Halcyon’s social pool has a few of the sort.”

In fact I’d be outright disappointed. Sasha was good enough to hold her own—and shove back hard if pushed. There was a definite dash of spice in flipping cues on a con. And it’s not like Kostya was around to scold her nowadays.

“I’m not so wicked as to drag a poor innocent onto a perfume expedition. Not on a Monday, at least.” She waved an admonishing finger. “Tread carefully: insult Channel in the wrong female company and heads could roll. Plus, if your potential sweetheart has highbrow taste—well, she’ll be a girl who loves perfume.”

Sasha noted Simon’s bistro with true interest. “Was it good, buttery but with a good cheesy flavor? Did they have a wine list? How about the—oh.” She put her fingertips to her mouth, self-conscious. “Forgive me. We’ve known each other minutes and here I am, prattling and interrogating your dinner choices.”

“Though I do hope you’ll pardon my saying that there are many faults a girl will forgive if there’s a clear proof of effort—and a splash of style.” She patted his shoulder comfortingly, not all deterred by their difference in heights. “You’re a good-looking boy with a friendly accent, and that’s already a good score more than many can offer. If nothing else, then surprise her.”

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simon_curtis
2008-09-12 07:19 am UTC (link)

"Ohhh...." Why on Earth would they call a hustler a shark? Maybe, he reasoned, the same reason called some women man-eaters: figuratively speaking, they'd chew you up and spit you out. A pool shark. He liked the term. It sounded like a type of pet to have. "A pool shark," he said aloud, "sounds like koi pond. Like it's the type of shark you keep in your pool." A giggle escaped him. "That sure wouldn't keep people from peeing in it, though." He imagined a women in a bikini jumping into the deep end, and as she slowed down under the water she came face-to-face with the pool shark. And then she screamed and peed herself. Not that you'd notice, under water. Simon kept this visual to himself- his mind was a strange place, and Sasha seemed too no-nonsense to appreciate the absurdity.

He thought about (and took into serious consideration) what Sasha said about the perfume. That was actually really good advice. You never knew what would insult a female, and knowing another potential threat was like having insider information. "What kind of perfume would a girl like that like?" he asked. Bringing girls like Cissy a present would probably score him major points.

He giggled as Sasha scolded herself. "No, it's okay," he assured her. "Although I'm hardly the person to ask for gourmet opinions. But let's see... there was a wine list, but I don't drink so I dunno if it was any good. The alfredo was..." he tried to think of a more descritive term than 'delicious', but he lacked Sasha's gift for words. "It was better than Olive Garden," he told her honestly. "It was filling but not heavy. Is that okay?"

Sasha patted his shoulder comfortingly, and indeed it did comfort. If making an effort was appreciated to women, he'd be good for the rest of his life. Dating was not something one should do half-assed. When she called him good-looking, though, he started blushing like insanity. "I hope I am surprising her," he told Sasha honestly. "I think I'd like to be someone she's never had before."

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vintage_fraud
2008-09-12 12:38 pm UTC (link)

Sasha gave Simon an sharp glance at pool’n’pee commentary, but there was little censure in it. Whatever, the kid was cute and lunch was imminent; she could afford to slice a little slack…for now. Because Simon was right; no matter how what pink she wore, or how much sugar laced her tone, Sasha was seldom frivolous. It made life a little difficult, sometimes.

Oh, well.

“Maybe you’d better hold off on purchasing perfume,” she cautioned gently. “Until you have a successful third date at least. Anything that applies to the skin—well, it’s intimate. Why not offer something more friendly and unassuming for now, something that doesn’t imply obligation? Like, oh, a scented sachet or a colored tin rose. Something lighthearted.”

“That’s fine, thank you. Honest simplicity is always worth more than some overwrought harangue—though I might get punched with lightning for saying so.” Filling but not heavy probably meant they kept off the cheap butter and thick oil, which was an excellent sign. It harder to translate the olive garden comment; but the time Sasha had learned of the place, her feeding was firmly in the hands of Josiah’s staff and resources. Chain restaurant were not an option.

“Something she’s never had…now that is an interesting choice of—oh” A tug at her wrist interrupted. Sasha paused to notice Dreizen parked by a familiar blue door. “My, here it is. Goodness, we almost passed it; I’m getting senile in my crumbly ol’ age. Thank you.” The last was directed to the attentive Doberman, along with a gentle pat on the head.

It was a small, pretty place: a petite terrace, fresh flowers framing picture windows, glass lanterns by the entrance. They were turned off now, but Sasha knew they’d be glowing a lovely, dreamy azure come dusk. The door and shutters were a matching placid sky-blue, each bearing the carved outline of a rose.

“La vie en bleu,” Sasha explained jokingly, her accent oddly unromantic. “There’s an official name, but the owners say nobody uses it; everybody just calls it Blue’s.”

Surprisingly she didn’t head through the door, but instead veered off to the side. There was an iron gate there, its curlicue overflowing with ivy; Sasha opened the gate without the slightest hesitation. Inside it felt like a secret garden, fragrant with mimosa, bougainvillea, and lemon. There was a pair of iron cast tables accompanied by elegant Victorian-looking chairs. Not a spec of rust, of course.

She glanced over her shoulder at Simon. “Shall we?”

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