Bianca doesn't like you (provocationist) wrote in _fracture_, @ 2014-02-13 20:39:00 |
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Entry tags: | bianca, chapter 1, mickey, the regent hotel |
Dodging a Bullet
Who: Mickey and Bianca
When: Afternoon
Where: The Throne Room Bar
Bianca had been at the bar for half an hour now. She was soused. She was only on her second glass of champagne but she had always been a light weight and the fact that her blood was pumping hard and fast with fury helped get the alcohol into her system faster. She was busy unloading on Joe the bartender. Not that he seemed to mind.
“I’m serious. If they think they can just use me and then tear me into little pieces and toss me into the wind, they’ve got another thing coming. Bianca van der Noorden does not go down without a fight. No way, bucko.”
To which Joe said, “There was a young girl in here a little while ago. She was a beautiful dancer.” And continued wiping down the bar.
Bianca raised one finger from the hand that held her glass. “Exactly my point. Where do they come up with these beautiful dancers? It’s like they’re everywhere! I swear, nobody fucking cares about actresses anymore. It’s the dancers and the models they want. Well, you know what? I’m going to kiss the first man who walks in here. You watch, I’ll do it. And then I’ll tell him I’m a dancer and we’ll fuck like bunnies the way god intended it.”
The whole concept of waking up somewhere he didn't belong was jarring. The bag packed with his things didn't help matters. He didn't think he'd gotten evicted, and was pretty sure if he had the hotel he would have wound up at wouldn't be this nice, but he didn't have much else in the way of answers. And it took him a good while before he'd come to some sort of terms with it. Then the most logical answer was to try and leave. Only walking out the front door hadn't led Mickey out of the hotel. Instead it dropped him and his bag in a ballroom. Or that was what he guessed you called it. He'd never been in such a place and instantly felt out of place in his jeans and t-shirt. He looked behind him, seeing normal doors and not the ones he'd tried to leave from. What the hell?
Bianca had been focusing on the main doors so when Mickey appeared she was a little off her guard. Yet she managed to recover swiftly. Sliding smoothly from her stool, she brought her champagne with her. She was suddenly the society gem with her Dom in hand. "Good evening, good sir. My name is Lola. I am your designated date," she said, all professionalism and warmth. Even if the warmth was false. She was going to be a fucking dancer and that was all there was to it.
MIckey stared at her with an open mouth for a long moment. Yes, she was gorgeous, but was anyone really named Lola and wasn't a redhead named Lola a little over the top. "Did I walk into a Clapton song?" This was the weirdest ass dream he'd ever had. Ever.
Bianca giggled, "No, that's Layla." She was caught off guard again because that was funny. She couldn't bowl him over with a forced kiss when he seemed utterly out of his league. Then she stopped to look at him properly. Oh. Alright. He was totes adorbs and she would have a hell of a lot to tweet about but... "Let me buy you a drink, handsome. Lets get you acquainted with life in hell."
"Right, Layla." Who had a guy on his knees. Maybe it was for the best it wasn't Layla. "Lola was a song." He just couldn't remember which. Looking around he frowned. "I really hope this isn't hell." Though wouldn't it be just his luck that losing his faith had brought him there. Instinctively his hand went to the cross under his shirt, but only for a fleeting moment.
Bianca looked at him curiously. What the fuck was happening here? "Yeah. Her name was Lola, she was a showgirl." She grimaced. "Really thought? Copacabana? That's all you see when you hear my name? Weird songs?" She should have known better.
Mickey frowned a little, but still managed to look innocent. "Was I supposed to see something else?" he asked gently, feeling like he'd missed a mark and upset her and everything about him shifted to see if he could correct that. "Are you okay?"
Bianca took a step back. There was something defective about him, right? She turned her focus inward, took a long, deep breath, and looked at him hard again. "I think I should ask if you're okay because seriously? You can't hit two really obvious retro-pop mentions?" She turned her face to the side and peered sideways at him.
That look, that comment, all of it would have shamed another person, but Mickey didn't even look like he took the blow. Instead he just chuckled a little and ducked his head, hair falling into his eyes. "I know. But I woke up here with a bag of my stuff that I didn't pack and when I tried to leave I wound up here. Feeling a little jarred at the moment. I'm sorry."
Bianca gave him a look like maybe he was the most confusing being on the planet and then some part of her realized that she was being given some sort of gift. He wasn't reacting negatively to her at all. He was being pleasant. She was surprised but she smiled as genuinely as she could. "It does take a few, doesn't it?" she asked. "Do you want a drink? Alcohol, water? I mean, it's all here," she tried out tentatively.
There was the smile. That was what Mickey was going for and he echoed it with one of his own, something that seemed more suiting to his features than the puzzled look he'd had before. "A drink sounds good. Might help get my head in gear. Or help me forget." Though he had a guess she didn't need another.
There was no way she would have been so disarmed if she hadn't been drinking but Bianca almost melted into a mess at Mickey's feet. He was fucking stupidly perfect. She recognize that. She also recognized that she didn't deserve that but he was smiling back at him and she was so not doing much else but smiling back. Who could be mad when there was that smile? She was trying. So hard. She wanted to scream but it wasn't going to happen. "Joe, make him something epic," she ordered the bartender.
"Just a beer," Mickey corrected then moved to sit in a stool, motioning for her to sit with him. He didn't need something epic, just a quick drink that wouldn't get him drunk and kill his senses. "So. Lola, what's got you so out of sorts." He'd picked up on that right away, that she wasn't having the best of days.
Bianca eyed Mickey. He seemed to have it all figured out. Nothing crazy. Nothing strange. He saw through everything. She wasn't sure she liked that at all. She settled on the stool beside him. "I'm not out of sorts. I'm phenomenal," she lied. "Life here is amazing. In fact, the whole being able to come and go as you please?" she said, pointing outward toward the front door. "It's a blessing in disguise."
"That bad huh?" Mickey guessed from her answer. Even if it wasn't dripping in sarcasm he knew it should be. "Wanna tell me about it?"
One of three things was happening here. The alcohol had softened her mood and her attitude, she was completely losing her touch, or Mickey was of a magical variety of people who simply was unfazed by things unless they were directly meant to offend him. And even then maybe not. She pointed a finger at him and grinned. "You're a unicorn," she declared and finished the remaining champagne in her glass, tapping the bar for a refill. "You so are!"
Mickey gave Joe a look that said to cut her off, but he took his beer nonetheless. "Am I? What did I do?" He was curious how she landed on that of all things, but he was willing to give her the space to explain. Just maybe not drink more.
t would have pissed Bianca off if she'd known Mickey had cut her off. She was blissfully oblivious though, distracted by her buzzy epiphany. "You're that guy. The ultimate nice guy. I never in a million years thought I'd ever meet one of you!" She leaned her elbow on the bar, resting her chin against her hand and looking at him. "What's it like to be so nice?"
Mickey chuckled into his beer a little and shook his head. "It's no different than being anyone else." Though she was right, he was that guy. It was a blessing and a curse at times. "I asked you about you...what's wrong?"
Bianca looked confused for a minute. What was wrong? Nothing felt wrong right now. She hiccuped and sat back a bit to think. "Oh. Oh! Some guy in the elevator tried to take advantage of me," she lied. "Thought because he was some highty-tighty bigwig that he could get all handsy! Well nobody does that to Bianca van der Noorden, dammit."
Mickey raised an eyebrow at that? "Did he?" That wasn't good and instantly Mickey felt that urge to protect someone. Who did that? "You'll have point him out sometime." So at the very least Mickey could have a word with him. Then he paused. "I thought you said your name was Lola."
Bianca gave him a dark look. "His name is Benjamin Asher. He is definitely not a unicorn." Oh, she had said her name was Lola. She backtracked a little and off-handedly said the first thing that came to her mind. "It's a stage name I use sometimes. It's sexier than Bianca, right?"
Benjamin Asher. Mickey made a mental note of the name and a point of making sure that he found the guy if he was still around. There was no need for that behavior. He raised an eyebrow at her name switch and then shrugged. "They're both pretty names. I think Bianca suits you better though." Lola felt fake and Mickey liked to give people the benefit of the doubt.
Bianca wondered what Mickey would do with that information. More's the better if he decided to go after the guy. That would teach him to reject her. She shrugged slightly and canted her head. "Really? What about it suits me?" she asked and finally looked around for her glass. She saw Joe had removed it but hadn't refilled it. She pouted at the man.
"Beyond being pretty?" Mickey said, at ease with the compliment, but he had a guess that she knew she was pretty. She seemed like the type. "And it's more real."
Bianca smiled appreciatively at Mickey. She knew she was gorgeous but it never hurt to hear it. "Well if there's something I prefer to be over anything else, it's pretty and real," she said a little distractedly, shooting a half glare at Joe. "Why isn't he serving me? Isn't that what bartenders are supposed to do?"
"You don't sound sold on real," Mickey said, giving the bartender his own look. "Not when you've already had plenty," he told her gently.
"Well, I'm an actress after all. Not being real is kind of my job but it's nice to be myself sometimes," she said and then frowned at him. "I've only had two glasses of champagne!"
"An actress? Anything I would have seen?" he asked her, sipping at his beer. "I think it would always be nice to be yourself." He wished he had that kind of luxury. "I think it was enough right?"
"I guess so. If you watch sci-fi. I was Princess Jezebel of the planet Clock. A much beloved character according to the fans. I've been modeling since the show ended." She pushed her lower lip out prettily and looked at Mickey. "Oh come on. I'm just trying to get over being nearly mauled by that asshole."
Mickey tried to remember, but wound up shaking his head. "No. I don't think I'm familiar." He wished he was, but he wasn't. "But it seems to suit you," especially with that smile of hers. "You know that's not how to do it." Though if it had left her that shaken, he was liking the guy less.
It seemed like no one was familiar. Which, now that she was thinking about it, was probably a good thing. She'd done those fucking cons and been mobbed by mental patients masquerading as fans. That was the last thing she needed here. "It's okay. It's been off the air a while and sci-fi is an acquired taste, I know." She was still pouting when she asked, "What's the way to do it then if you're going to liquor-block me."
"Just not much of a tv guy either," Mickey admitted. He didn't really have the cash for cable and spent most of his time working one of this two jobs. "You realize it's not your fault. And you don't lose yourself in a bottle."
"I'm not an alcoholic but in this case it was taking the edge off." She sighed and fluttered her lashes at him. "One more glass? Please?" she asked. Sober Bianca would seriously have had no problem just ordering herself another drink but the unicorn was her cruise director at the moment apparently.
"Aren't you feeling like there was enough of an edge off?" he asked, feeling like maybe she was a little drunk, but he could be wrong. He eyed her for a moment then waved at the bartender to get her another which he complied with quickly. "One more. It's not even that late in the day."
Bianca was starting to get bored with Mickey's protectiveness. "I'm a big girl, you know," she said, accepting the new glass and taking a small sip before setting it down. "I suppose I could get by with one less glass if you came up with another way to distract me."
"I never said you weren't," Mickey said, not at all phased by her. "Though I'm not sure what I could come up with to distract you." He could sense the bartender watching them, but he didn't look up, just stayed focused on her. It had him wondering what the man knew that made their interaction so interesting and worth paying attention to outside of them being the only two people at the bar at the moment.
Bianca leaned toward her a little, her smile somewhere between sweet and encouraging. "Sure you could. Use your imagination. I'm sure there are plenty of things you could come up with." She had all but forgotten the bartender was there because he'd finally served her so she'd moved on.
Of course that was where she would go with it. He knew that look. He'd seen it before. He wasn't much for long term relationships, but he'd gone out with enough women, drew enough of them in this far at least to know what that look meant. "I'm pretty sure I'm not your guy." Not right now. Not when he needed to figure out where he was still. Someone else might be willing, but not Mickey. He took a long pull on his beer, finishing most of it off in one go.
Bianca's eyes narrowed feeling her blood begin to rise again. "You're right," she said snidely then sat back and picked up her glass. She made a show of drinking the entire thing in several long swallows. "There's a reason nice guys always finish last, you know." She stood up on the stool, reached over the bar, and took the champagne bottle. "I'll go make my own fun," she said and turned to go.
Mickey watched her, making a few decisions based on her reaction to him. It made sense and it just confirmed that he wasn't the guy she was looking for. Not in this moment. "They say that yeah." He'd seen it, but in this case he was pretty sure he was dodging a bullet.
Bianca didn't even stop to respond to him. He was just lucky she wasn't sober. Two men in the span of an hour had rejected her. Her! She was throwing herself at guys she didn't even like and they were rejecting her. This was like some bizarre alternate reality. Or maybe it was a hidden camera show. Mess with the Model. Well fuck that. Fuck them too. All of them.