InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "You're supposed to stroke it!"

nineteen_stars (nineteen_stars) wrote in bellumlogs,
@ 2010-06-23 18:15:00

Entry tags:

plot: delta, plot: tempus

Who: Trenton and Isobel
What: Being mistaken for famous is hard work.
Where: All around Chicago
When: Day 3
Warnings: Uhm. It's Trenton and Isobel. Isn't that warning enough?
Notes: None at the moment.

The hotel the cabbie had taken them to was nice, even by modern day standards, and the bed was more than luxurious enough for Isobel to fall asleep on shortly after her head hit the pillow. For all that they had been through, sleep came easily and all too soon, the afternoon sun was glinting through the drawn curtains and she squinted into the light, pushing herself up with a yawn.

Hands clutched the sheet around her as she sat up, the blue dress from before abandoned for sleep. "Trenton?" she asked, hair mussed around her face, looking around for him. She could remember him being with her last night, his sharp words and glances that left her wondering what he was thinking.

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cyprian
2010-06-24 12:11 am UTC (link)

Trenton had found it difficult to sleep, or to even get adequately exhausted. Every time his eyelids would droop, there was the heralding alarm that jangled his nerves. It said that any minute he might reopen his eyes and find himself in Bellum Letale. With too heavy a blink, he'd be trapped in penthouse #4 all over again. Although eventually, even he couldn't keep the slippery realm of consciousness between his fingers, and long after the morning sun rose, while he was stretched out on a fainting couch near the window, Trenton's chin found it's way to his chest in a tired droop. His dreams were short and scattered, so vague that it would be difficult for him to even pinpoint how long he'd actually been asleep. Thirty minutes? Three hours?

After rising, he let Isobel sleep, even as a newly awakened Dorian fluctuated in his suggestions of waking her, or just abandoning her completely. Retiring to the polished, sea colored tiles of the bathroom, he freshened up with the hotel's confusing platter of French milled soaps and mouthwash that tasted like pure vodka. Spitting into the sink, he heard her stirring in the other room, and peeked around the doorjamb with a quirk.

"Sleep well, princess?" His tone was distinctly Trenton; a balancing act of sincere and amused. He connected the buttons of his dress shirt, which was wrinkled but workable.

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nineteen_stars
2010-06-24 12:16 am UTC (link)

"Surprisingly well," she answered, stifling a yawn with the back of one hand as she swung her legs over the side of the bed, pulling the sheet with her. "You? Didn't think you to be much of an early riser," Isobel commented, getting up to her feet and padding over towards him, keeping the sheet around her like a makeshift toga. In the back of her head, Rapunzel worried at her, telling her that this wasn't right, that she ought to watch herself, be careful, the mean man was in him, remember, Isobel?

But she shook the thoughts away, reaching out to smooth a wrinkle out of his shirt, glancing up towards him a moment later.

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cyprian
2010-06-24 05:09 am UTC (link)

"It's not early," he offered in correction. The telltale edge of his smirk on the rise. Indeed, a glance out the window would confirm that the afternoon sun was past it's zenith, but had not yet sunk to set.

His eyes fell to where she tried to smooth a wrinkle in his difficult shirt, and Trenton ceased with the buttons. For the first time, he conceded to Dorian's florid input and suggestions. Trenton caught her delicate fingers and brought them up his chest, to where the shirt flayed open at his tattoos. Taking a handful of her sheet toga, and using it as leverage to pull Isobel a little closer when he dropped his mouth to her's.

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nineteen_stars
2010-06-24 11:22 am UTC (link)

At his words, she turned to look over her shoulder at the window, and the light she saw there was definitely not morning light. "Huh..." Isobel murmured, turning to look back up towards him in time for her hand to be caught and brought up to his chest. Fingers pressed against those inked words, stumbling forward the last step as she was hauled in just a bit closer.

When his lips pressed against hers, she gave in easily, lips parting slightly to invite him further in as her other hand came to rest against his arm. The afternoon sun faded into darkness as she closed her eyes, leaning in against him and the kiss.

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cyprian
2010-06-24 06:43 pm UTC (link)

The kiss was familiar, and indeed they'd tapdanced this line before. Although, for all it's similarities, there was a newness to the tilt of his mouth over her's, and the dedicated roam of his hands along the modest construction of her sheeted garment. He tried not to think about how long it had been since he'd slept with someone; before he was under house arrest, before he was jailed. Was it Boyd? No, surely not. Dorian fervently, and suddenly reminded him not to go there, not now.

So he kissed her. Like a man going off to war, someone who'd been denied and would be denied again. Like a parolee who'd just robbed a bank or shot a sheriff, he knew the time would be gone again soon. He'd be starving again soon.

All the more reason to take her now, Dorian offered in helpful lechery.

Trenton broke the kiss with a small sound, sucking in a fresh breath and clearing whatever thoughts he'd just had. He swatted Isobel gently on her hip before stepping back. "Get dressed. Let's fuck this city up."

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nineteen_stars
2010-06-24 06:53 pm UTC (link)

Fingers took the moment to explore inked skin, writing her own touch into his chest as she sank into the warmth of his hands and the kiss. It had been a long time since she had kissed like this, someone who knew what they were doing, unafraid of the game of push and pull. And then it was ending all too soon, and she felt chilled when he pulled back, goosebumps rising along bare arms and shoulders as he moved away from her.

She watched him for a long while, tasting him still on her lips and tongue, and then there was a smile, teasing and warm as she moved towards the bathroom to freshen up. The blue gown was picked up, tossed over the crook of her arm, and she stepped over the threshold of the bathroom, dropping her sheet just before disappearing from view, a peek of smooth, ivory skin.

Isobel didn't take long in the bathroom, a quick wash up with some of the soap and a towel, and soon she re-emerged in the gown she had appeared in during their time in the speak-easy. Her heels were slipped on, and she looked over towards Trenton, one hand extended towards him, eyes fixed on his face. "Let's go."

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cyprian
2010-06-25 01:51 am UTC (link)

Trenton still tasted the burn of that minted moonshine mouthwash, but beneath was a kind of sweet tea warmth that was inherently Isobel. She tasted the same, and he tilted his head to watch her vanish around the bathroom's door jamb, catching an extra long linger of skin that he could remember possessing, if only once. He realized that she'd never been a mystery to him, and their games were not built upon twenty questions or evasion. It was just constant take, and constant offerings. Trenton recognized a strange, distant thought that told him that he'd miss her when he...

But he pushed the idea away, and collected his tie from the back of a chair. It took Trenton just as long to fumble compulsively with the knot in that silk as it took Isobel to get dressed. He gave her an easy smile when she returned, one that was only the surface of him. Taking her arm in his, Trenton led her out the door of their hotel room. Not even worrying that they probably didn't have enough money to stay here a second night.

"Where to first?" It wasn't an easy question, considering that neither of them were familiar with this city. But watch it take only a couple of hours for them to own it. "Grab a drink? Dance? Gamble? Smoke opium? I'm sure we can find anything you want here. Chicago was probably the Disneyland of the 20's." Trenton had a knack for sniffing the underbelly of any establishment out. Likeminded frequencies always attract.

Pulling her loose from the elevator and back under his arm, the pair breached the lobby in high spirits. There seemed to be a gaggle of reporters and photographers lingering outside the main revolving glass doors, and Trenton hiked a brow as he pushed their way through to the outside.

Instantly, there was a clamor of a half dozen reporters speaking at once and the brilliant shatter of two camera bulbs exploding like supernovas. Glass littered the sidewalk, and Trenton was sufficiently blinded for a handful of seconds.

"What the fuck!"

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nineteen_stars
2010-06-25 02:04 am UTC (link)

Isobel let him lead the way, arm linked in his, not letting herself obsess over what they would do later. This was a time for living in the moment, letting the world take them where it wanted, and in this case, letting Trenton take her where they both wanted. "Any and all of the above?" she asked with a grin. "Though I think something we can't do back home would be nice. It's not a vacation if you do the same thing you always do, right?"

She followed after him out of the elevator, laughing in pure enjoyment at what the world had to offer, ignorant that some of their neighbors were hardly enjoying a thing at all. But then there was the mass of reporters swarming outside, and Isobel blinked in confusion. "What's going on...?" she asked, though the question went unanswered as they stepped outside and were immediately assaulted by an onslaught of paparazzi excitement.

There were so many questions being asked, old-fashioned flash bulbs shattering, and she had to raise a hand to shield her eyes, instinctively pressing closer to Trenton's side though he was hardly in a better position than she was. "I... I don't know!" she said in answer to him, her eyes widening as a reporter sidled up to her side, questioning her about how they felt about the public being so disapproving of their behaviour.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Isobel exclaimed, and before they had time to ask more questions or take more photos, she gave a firm tug to Trenton's arm, pulling him down the walk at a fast pace.

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cyprian
2010-06-25 02:49 am UTC (link)

Disapproving of their behavior? Where was this public? He wanted to hear them say it!

Trenton laughed, despite the confusion of the moment, and the fact that his pupils could barely register anything but the bright, blinding scald of those camera lenses. When Isobel shied against him, he shifted slightly in front of her to give the press a sound byte they couldn't work with. "I think it's fuckin' hilarious."

Falling aside with Isobel's encouragement, Trenton escorted her down the sidewalk and around the corner at the end of the block. "They think we're someone else.. they called you Betty."

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nineteen_stars
2010-06-25 06:33 pm UTC (link)

Isobel pressed against the wall once the crowd of reporters was out of sight, her eyes wide and cheeks flushed from that little rush to get away. "Betty? That's... Ugh. So that's why I heard someone call you James?" She slumped just a little, looking around as though she was afraid another group would come out of the walls to accost them.

"I guess it could be worse..." she said after a moment, looking back over to him. "Right?"

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cyprian
2010-06-25 07:46 pm UTC (link)

Trenton had never been tailed by the paparazzi; he wasn't a celebrity by any means. But he was very familiar with their antics, the scum-hungry photographers frequented many of the New York hotspots that Trenton could be found at any night of the week. He'd seen more than one celebutante princess trip her in Gucci knockoffs and faceplant under the glare of digital camera lights. He'd been responsible for plenty of gossip rag editorials that highlighted young drunk actresses holding little baggies of drugs so blatantly in their hands. He knew that the cameramen might have slowed down, but they'd hound Isobel and himself again unless they got off the sidewalk.

There was some jazz piano music coming from a doorway on their right, it seemed to be a little dive dance club that was thick with cigar smoke. Although it was still quite early, and the night was young, there were a few couples already inside, and Trenton pulled Isobel along for the ride. Taking up in a dark corner to dance a couple of rounds, they weren't likely to be seen.

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