runs_the_show (runs_the_show) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2013-01-28 14:59:00 |
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He heralded quickly to her side -- loyal despite their brief encounters. When the taxi came to a stop in the drive of the Wynn, it was with haste and haphazard that Etienne rifled fare from his wallet, muttering a quick thanks as he exited the taxi. His phone slid from his bag at his side, digits tapping away to a number that was quickly climbing in his frequent contacts. He walked to the lobby with a sense of urgency, thumb between his teeth as the other end ring-ring-rang to indicate his arrival and his complete ignorance of the building he found himself in. Justine had arrived a few minutes prior to her phone going off and she’d already secured a golden plush booth for them after handing over Daddy’s credit card with a, “Put whatever you want on it, I’m taking this one.” She wasn’t exactly dressed as properly as she should have, considering she’d just up and left the apartment out of pure anger at Thor. The Norse God was an idiot and she was so mad at him. Mad at Tony too, for not caring. Why didn’t anyone care? Oh, she was fuming, but luckily, she looked cute fuming in a neon pink tulle skirt and tight white cami. She’d slipped on practical gold flats, and barely managed to grab her purse before breezing out the door. “Eti? I’m at XS,” she told him, shouting over the roar of the crowd. A waiter came up so she ordered, “Give me half a dozen shots and something tropical-y to drink.” She had to fish out her ID and then she left it on the table because she’d get pissed if anyone asked for it again. “Just follow the signs, kay? I’m in a booth by the front, I’ll watch for you!” "Ah, just a moment--" And in a short succession of turned corners he appeared, seeking her out with a lofty gaze and aimless amble. When he finally saw her, he slipped quickly into the booth, bag at his side and concern wrought in his features. "What is wrong? It seems so urgent!" He looked up to a passing waitress before leaning in to hear his companion over the crowd. She’d barely heard him, but that didn’t matter. He’d find her, she was sure of it. Justine hung up her phone and set it on the table just as the waiter came back with her requested drinks. “Start a tab,” she instructed, waving off requests for payment. She hadn’t gone on a bender ever. Her father’s wallet could handle however much she drank. Two shots were knocked back in quick succession, and Eti appeared just as the second glass found the table again. He was so concerned, rushing right to her side as if nothing else mattered. She wondered, briefly, if he’d dropped anything to come see her. “I hate my brother,” Justine replied petulantly. She was so mad about all of it. “He’s so stupid, and so is his alter, and they put all of us in danger!” She pushed a shot in his direction and picked up the mixed drink she’d requested, taking a long sip. A moment later, and she was on her knees, facing Etienne and looking every bit the wounded puppy. “He got eaten at that party, and then it turns out he went to go see his brother on this side and it was just so bad because now he knows about us and she’s taunting him and he’s not helping anything because he says he wouldn’t help me at all and it’s not fair because he left and I feel like except for you, I’m kind of all alone again.” Tears were welling up in her eyes as she worked herself up, but she was trying desperately not to cry. She didn’t want Eti thinking of her as a child. It was a myriad of non-sequitur, a mess that left Etienne thoroughly perplexed and overwhelmed. The ambient noise had swallowed half her words, and with a shot in hand and her liquor drowned down, he merely blinked for a moment, taken aback by the severity with which she spoke. "Sorry, I..." His brow furrowed, a hand making its way to her upper arm in an effort to be of some comfort. "Maybe you could start at the beginning? What does it mean, he got eaten at a party? And who is taunting? I can't keep up," he admitted, wholly ashamed at his need -- after all this time -- for conversations to move slowly. She was waiting for a reaction from him, something that supported her anger. All she got was a confused look that made her confused. How difficult had that been to follow? Why couldn’t he just keep up? Didn’t he read the journals? Didn’t he just know? It got her a little angry all over again, but she remembered it wasn’t him that was the subject of her ire. She sighed and took another long sip from her tropical drink. “I don’t want to talk about it,” Justine huffed, the forced exhale enough to push some of her hair up before it wafted back down. The hand on her arm warmed her though, made her feel like he cared, and she focused on that. “Come on, Eti. Have a drink, please?” She pushed the shot on him. “Oh! I forgot to tell you my good news!” It was with a conscious effort that she spoke slower, and she leaned in closer to his ear so she wouldn’t have to yell. “I’m going to try to join a company again. I’m out of shape, unfortunately, but I know dancing with you will help!” Justine was excited about that, and it was almost enough to forget about everything else. Just for the moment. "You are!?" Despite being at the behest of better news, it was the immediate reaction she was looking for. He immediately brightened, sliding near, and his hand tightened reassuringly around her arm. "Oh, Justine! I am so proud! I will help however I can." And to that the aeriealist raised a shot, knocking it back with a practised motion that hadn't been utilized in years. "When are auditions?" Her anger was completely forgotten in favor of his excitement and it was nice to know that someone was proud of her. She’d been so withdrawn lately from everything, worried about what Benji would think, but it just wasn’t fair for her to hold herself back because of him. Justine would be devastated if he left again, but she’d survive. Dancing in a company again would be a good start and although she still had to ask Olive if she could use the studio to practice, she wasn’t worried. And Etienne would be the perfect partner. If only she could convince him to perform with her. She’d ponder that later. He took his shot and Justine grinned, taking another one herself before settling in against his side. “Not until after the New Year, but I’ll need all that time anyway to practice so it works out,” she replied. “Besides, it’s a good distraction from how awful and stupid my brother and his Alter are being,” she added, mad at Benji and Thor all over again. “How are things through your door, Eti?” Because that’d be nicer than anything else. "My door--" Etienne laughed, low and lulled under his breath. At the immediate impulse, he could feel Cheri's indignation, but it was something he dismissed readily -- certain it couldn't be quite so important as the newlyweds were making it out to be. "It is very... what is the word." He hummed as he mused, concentrating on the words and the weight on his shoulder. With a canted head he spoke -- proceeded uncertainly with humour stringing his voice like pearls amidst the ambient waste. "Torrid? Is it the word for that?" He grinned, shyly waving it away. "At the end of his story, Cheri is married. They want to have a baby already.” Justine didn’t understand, not at first, but when he explained that Cheri was married, it all sort of clicked into place. “Cheri? Isn’t that the French word for ‘friend’?” she asked, a giggle escaping her at the thought. That was just so cheesy. “Where’s he from that he gets to have sex all the time? That sounds like it would be fun though. Not that I’d know because I’ve never had sex before, but it’s probably more fun than just paperwork, which is what I’m pretty sure Pepper does all day,” she mused, sipping her drink almost thoughtfully. It was finished in short order though and she felt all warm inside. “At least he’s happy. I don’t think Pepper’s very happy. Actually, I know she isn’t happy, but she’s doing a better job at hiding it lately I guess.” Justine downed another shot. “Is it normal to have a lot of bruises after sex? Or for your lady parts- well, I guess you wouldn’t know for sure, since you’re a boy, but if lady parts hurt the next day, it could still have been okay, right?” At the mention of Justine's alter and her damages, Etienne grew quiet. With a stifling immediacy Justine's age and naivety became apparent, and he looked down to his empty shotglass -- her duplication of his singular vice -- lips pursed as he thought carefully how to proceed. "I heard--" He stopped, considering those foreign words as they bleached his tongue with a vodka sting. "Sore -- I think -- is normal, if a man is not careful or if it is her first time to be with him. But bruises..." He trailed off, looking at the young girl who had laid to rest against him. "You are very close with Pepper?" “What did you hear?” she asked, curious as to why he just stopped and she had no idea what direction he was taking it. He answered her question though, and it eased her mind somewhat. Justine was still unsure, but if she could pretend, she would. She didn’t want to think about the alternatives and snuggled closer to Etienne without even realizing it. She just wanted to feel safe, and he did that. He’d been there to catch her when she leaped. Would he catch her when she fell? Only time would tell. “No,” she replied after a few long minutes of silence. “No, I’m not. She and I don’t get along very much,” Justine admitted, sad all over again. “I don’t know what to do, Eti,” she whispered against his chest. She wasn’t sure if he could hear her or not, but it didn’t matter. "Her suffering is not yours," he offered, good faith dripping with futility. His arm wrapped around her, offering all he could in his ignorance. Lights and conversation pulsed around them, drowning their murmurs in revelry and sin -- the perfect Vegas coverup for a good time gone bad. "Maybe if you are not close," he paused -- uncertain in his continuance of what could be misconstrued as very bad advice. "Maybe distance is best. If she cannot ask for help, she can maybe keep it to herself to respect you. I think you have a good decision, so focus on dancing and put your heart and soul into it. I will help however I can." In the span of those words he tilted her chin, begged her eyes to meet his. He offered a smile -- perhaps not enough in light of her suffering, but maybe it would do for now. She was selfish, taking every ounce of comfort he provided so readily. Justine had been coddled for most of her life, and when Benji had left, Mike had coddled her to the point where she had been able to stay young and innocent far longer than she should have. “Maybe,” she replied, but when he tilted her head up, she was lost. He was so giving, so warm and welcoming, and he was listening to her now, offering support as best he could. Before she even realized what she was doing, her lips met his in a soft, gentle brush. The barest touch was innocence in every form and Justine didn’t press for more just yet. She cared deeply for him though, and she didn’t have any experience at all save for her kisses with Charming and Draco. “I know you will,” she replied softly, nuzzling into his neck. “I can’t tell you how much that means to me.” Justine could only hope that he’d allow her to show him just how much she cared about him. “Thank you,” was all she could think to say, but it was no where near accurate enough. The kiss fell innocently upon lips unprepared -- though startled, Etienne withdrew with the utmost delicacy, terrified of spooking the young girl into anger and distrust once more. In the span of her settling safely into the crook of his neck it had been rationalized -- tucked away as an innocent gesture borne of one-too-many and naivety -- surely nothing to worry about, nothing at all. How foolish the foolish could be. His arms found their place around his little dancer once more, and with the utmost discretion he motioned to their waitress -- signaling a cut-off for the delicate thing in his arms. She nodded with traces of sympathy, and he indicated his thanks in turn. With his nose to her hair he relinquished his own little pecks of innocence -- of good-intentions and brotherly affection. "Now tell me," he tried -- oh, tried -- perking up the slightest bit with that lilt in his accent that never truly dissipated. "What pas de deux will we practice with to make you the best premiere danceuse in Las Vegas?" He smiled into another kiss atop her head -- where the crown of a Swan Queen would surely sit in time. Justine was so wrapped up in herself that she didn’t notice that he withdrew as quickly as possible or that he signaled for the waitress to cut her off. In fact, she didn’t even notice when the waitress came back with the receipt and her credit card, too wrapped up in cuddling with Etienne and selfishly taking what she needed. The feel of his arms around her and the soft kisses pressed to her hair only reassured her that she hadn’t done anything wrong by kissing him. He turned the conversation to happier things and she was grateful once more. “Oh!” she exclaimed, brightening considerably at all the possibilities. She pulled back to look at him, happy in a childlike kind of wonder, her emotions flip flopping on a dime. “All of them?” she asked, smile bright and brilliant, impossible to say no to. He laughed at the suggestion, parting to inspect her brightened expression. A brow raised. "All of them!? It might be too ambitious, no?" Hands raised -- settled along her shoulders -- and with a thumb tracing lingering sympathy he considered the repertoire that lingered in the periphery of years ago, reaching for a pas de deux that didn't resound with another woman's name in each footfall. "Maybe Don Quixote? It is a challenge but you are the perfect Kitri -- bright, sweet, ah--" He paused, considering a word that just would not come in English. "Mischievous." A grin -- a dare, of sorts. She laughed then, arms laced around his neck. “Maybe a little, but we could do it,” Justine replied, all confidence. When he suggested Don Quixote, she knew she was probably the luckiest dancer in all of Las Vegas. She knew the dance, had actually done a portion of it for her audition to get into the Birmingham Royal Ballet, and she knew it would be perfect with Etienne. “Mischievous? Me?” Justine laughed because they both knew it was true. A yawn overcame her and suddenly she felt exhausted. She tucked her head back against his shoulder, in the crook of his neck, and sighed. “Take me home?” she asked softly, though she was already quite comfortable against him and if they didn’t start moving, she’d be asleep in minutes. Justine knew that, but she didn’t care, just settled herself closer to him. “Of course, cherie.” He nodded, at her behest despite better intention. Following a yawn and a nod, he gently cradled her weight in his arms accustomed to much heavier, pressing with gentle weight and gentle words -- the puppeteer to her stumble as they wandered curbside, cab ready to take his little princess home. |