Re: [Club: Hannah and Caspar]
Caspar was being hard on himself. He'd plowed through therapists over the years, both in quick, dismissive discard and in a disgustingly physical manner, and they always told him that he placed too much pressure upon himself. Which might have been true, but it was also possible that he didn't put enough pressure on himself. Thankfully, it was a little late to live up to the role of golden child now. Marcus had been the one for that, and now that he was dead, their father's dream was too. Good fucking riddance. Caspar preferred for the bar to be set so low that he could easily step over it.
He looked like a businessman. It was pretty much the family costume, something legit to disguise something most foul. Caspar's particular style was tastefully vintage, an 80's three-piece Armani with sharp lapels and tasteful, deep gray color. The jacket was intentionally oversized, hanging a little long at the hip on him. The slacks were a good fit, and his white button-down was bleached clean as bone against skinny black leather suspenders and a matching belt with true silver buckle shine. He dressed like old money from an old city, and it sort of clashed with the techno environment, but that was alright. This place made a great martini at the main bar.
He was on his way back there when something slowed him down. At first, he didn't realize what it was. In between the swirling, colorful lights, it took him a moment to see her, to realize that she saw him. Even then it didn't click, but forgive him: he'd been disgracefully wasted at her wedding, he was five-drink tipsy now, and he'd burned all of those old wedding photo Christmas cards years ago in a greatly destructive display that had also managed to consume a 20 grand antique sofa.
But she was looking at him, that much was evident. Caspar decided to forgo the next martini in favor of stepping up to the young woman. She looked like a fucking Sunday school teacher, but he managed not to give her too derisive of a look when he asked, "I'm sorry, we've met..." Not a question, although the evidence wasn't entirely concrete.