đ” đ đž đ« đ·đ¶ đ» (jukejoint) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2012-04-19 12:09:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | black widow, christine daae, persian, phantom |
Who: Aiden, Neil, Sam, Shailee
What: Plotting and drinks
Where: Foundation Room
When: Recentish
Warnings/Rating: Language
The Foundation Room wasnât one of Samâs usual haunts, but Shaileeâs request for quiet-brain booze over dancing had brought the lounge to mind. And, hey, a call from a high rollerâs suite in another hotel had netted them a private room in the lounge. There were perks to living in the aria sky suite, it seemed, and Sam wasnât one of those prideful poor bitches - fuck no. Sheâd take whatever came her way, whether she had to scrap for it or not. And tonight, tonight she hadnât needed to scrap. She was dressed in micro-mini, knee highs, combat boots, and a gray shirt that tied behind the neck and bared an expanse of uncovered back that wasnât hidden by the hair that was casually tucked up into a twist. She hadnât bothered stopping by the suite after work, because it had been one hell of a fucking day, and sheâd just grabbed a shower at the worksite before heading down. She leaned against the entrance, the long, red hall that Foundation Room was famous for visible just over her shoulder, and she smoked a sickly-sweet clove cigarette as she scribbled on the tiny metal book that served as her journal. Shit was so complicated; she needed a drink.
It had been a day for Shailee as well. Her current undercover assignment had her stuck behind a desk all day, pretending to give a shit about the companies organizational efficacy, while murders and arsonists were running rampant all over Vegas. To make things worse, Natasha had gone silent. Shailee didnât know that alters could hide things from the people they were in, but Natasha had somehow figured it out. Her extensive covert training had come in handy even in their highly unusual situation, and as a result Shailee was left with a shady assassin gone straight in her head, whose motivations she could neither understand nor uncover. It was enough to make anyone crazy, even if they werenât the type of intelligence officer who demanded complete knowledge about everything.
So yes, Shailee needed to get drunk, as well as laid. The past few weeks of stress were beginning to get to her and she needed an outlet, stat. She arrived at the Foundation Room at a little past seven, dressed in a modified version of what she had worn to work. Her slacks and smart heels had been traded out for a brightly colored pencil skirt and heels that could in no way be described as sensible, but made her legs look fantastic. She was here to present Samâs virgin with a real challenge, and even though she might not be able to close the deal, she was going to have a good time trying.
A wicked grin snuck across Shaileeâs face at the sight of her friend, and she oh-so-casually leaned against the wall next to the girl, dropping her voice a few notches. âHey there, sexy thang. You alone or can I buy you a drink?â
For all his time in Vegas, Aiden didnât often visit the hotels or casinos - no desire to drink or gamble or spend money he didnât have kept him out of the way of the bright lights and crowds. Still, he at least knew where they were, and so he only had a little trouble making his way down the streets and into the right building to find the Foundation Room. Sam hadnât mentioned anything about reservations, but she hadnât said anything about paying, either, so he assumed things had been taken care of. Probably by Neil and his fortunes. It grated on him, but since he wasnât paying, it didnât grate quite enough for him to feel slighted by it.
Dressed in (what else?) a faded t-shirt and jeans, Aiden had at least traded his time-worn sneakers for slightly less battered hiking boots that, in the dim lights of the halls, looked nearly decent. The leather jacket was a constant, though, as were the thin wire-frame glasses. He hadnât bothered to do much else. As far as he was concerned, it was just another night out drinking with two people he sort of knew and one person he didnât. But so long as this other friend of Samâs did have some good ideas about how to deal with the idiots in their heads, it was fine. He could (grudgingly) adapt, and probably put up with whoever it was.
Aiden came to a halt a few feet away when he saw Sam and another woman, his mind momentarily proposing a number of questions at the quiet words he thought he heard and then dismissing them almost immediately. With a raised eyebrow and his hands in his jacket pockets, Aiden approached them wordlessly.
Sam greeted Shailee with a kiss on the lips and a friendly ass-tap, and by the time Aiden wandered up half the public-area bar was looking out the door. And half of that half? They were probably wondering how the hell Aiden, in his faded jeans and t-shirt, had managed to score so far out of his league. Shailee was gorgeous, but Sam had enough confidence not to find that intimidating, and she slung an arm around her friendâ waist as she motioned to Aiden. âAiden, Shailee. The badass I told you about? Badass, this is Aiden. Aiden isnât my new roommate,â she clarified, in case Shailee was mistaking Mister Virgin for Mister I Donât Put Out. Couldnât have that, could they? âWeâre still waiting on Neil,â she added, though it wasnât really clear which of them she was talking to. Both, maybe.
Sam and Shailee had been friends for long enough to where they could read each otherâs cues, and Shailee was picking up what Sam was dropping. She traded the grin she reserved for snarky comments with her friends for her most charming smile and held her hand out to the newcomer. âBadass works, but so does Shailee. Itâs nice to meet you, Aiden.â Sam had been right, of course - the man was nowhere near unattractive, and certainly not to the point where anyone could have understood why he was still a virgin. And the wardrobe choice? It was ballsy for a place like this, and Shailee could get behind that. Whoever this man was, he was instantly intriguing, and that only added to the âplusâ column in Shaileeâs evaluation list. Sam had indicated that this man was a tough nut to crack, but Shailee wasnât a trained CIA operative for nothing.
The expression on Aidenâs face as Sam gave the woman a straight-on kiss was somewhere between surprised and bemused, and he hardly seemed to notice the people staring out the door at them. And then Sam turned and introduced them, and he relaxed slightly - for a few brief, unpleasant seconds, heâd wondered if he was going to have to either play some sort of hero, or call an ambulance or the police, or something.
âYou too,â Aiden said in response, shaking the offered hand. At least she was polite, though most people generally were at first. âHeâd best hurry up and get here if heâs going to be paying.â Assuming he was, anyway. For the moment, Aiden glanced at Sam, and then at Shailee. They were both dressed relatively nicely. A glance through the door made him realize that yes, this was in fact a fairly upscale bar and lounge, and heâd completely neglected that fact when he decided not to change before heading out for the evening. But what was done. Besides, why should he care what the unofficial dress code was? They werenât going to kick him out over a shitty jacket. Probably.
Sam thought it was a good sign that Aiden hadnât fled, and that Shailee hadnât thrown a punch, and she considered it a good start, all things considered. âIâll go find out which room is ours,â she offered. âDonât let Neil run away if he gets here. None of us can afford this fucking place without him, thatâs for sure.â She walked past them, to the bar, where a few men offered drinks, rooms, and the sky itself if the girls got rid of Aiden. Sam chuckled, stole a cherry from behind the bar and sucked on it. A few seconds later, private room key in hand and the first order of drinks on the bill, she left behind suit no. 1 and suit no. 2 and returned to the door.
Neil wasnât late, exactly. He just wasnât quite on time. His meeting (because yes, he did work, rather than just sit around the villa all day) had run long and heâd had to feign interest in favor of the mind-numbing boredom that threatened to consume him. After a few false starts heâd finally made his escape, caught a quick shower in the building, and called a car to take him to the Mandalay. As a result, his hair was still slightly damp when he arrived. In terms of his manner of dress, Neil fit in fairly well with his dark, expensive jeans and white dress shirt-- which, admittedly, heâd been wearing under a sports jacket for work, but he hadnât had time to change and with the sleeves rolled halfway up it looked less business and more suited to the Foundation Roomâs atmosphere.
He recognized Aiden after a few seconds, though he initially didnât see Sam, and approached the two on the assumption that the woman with him was her friend. âHey,â he said in greeting to the other man, before turning to the woman with a friendly grin. âYou must be Samâs friend. Iâm Neil.â Heâd barely gotten the introduction out when Sam returned, and the smile he gave her in greeting was no different than the one heâd given the other two, not in the slightest, thank you very much.
âYouâre late.â Because Aiden couldnât go two straight sentences being polite, and heâd already used one greeting Shailee. Still, it was said without much venom, and he grinned vaguely at Neil when he said it. After all, he couldnât constantly insult the man who was paying for this. Even he knew that was a bad move. âWork keep you?â
If there was any tension between Neil and Sam, Aiden didnât pick up on it. He knew she was rooming with him for the moment, at least until they cleaned up the mess left behind by the fire, but as far as he knew it was a friend thing, possibly related to their alter egos. That had to rankle the Phantom and Christine something fierce - and Raoul must have been seething, assuming the pompous ass knew about it. That was enough to make Aiden smirk a little wider.
Shailee smiled at the newcomer, evaluating him momentarily despite having promised Sam that she wouldnât. Not a bad specimen either. For someone who was all about the ladies as of late, Sam had done a hell of a job picking out their company for tonight. Shailee would have to remember to congratulate her friend the next time they had a moment alone. âHi, Neil. Iâm Shailee. Iâm glad to see your new roommate hasnât scared you off yet.â She was glad to see that the two men knew each other, hoping that it would be help ease any awkward pauses in conversation that might arise later. As far as Shailee knew, neither of the two men knew just what Sam was hoping to get out of the night, and the more comfortable everyone was with one another, the easier it would be when the truth eventually surfaced.
Not that she understood why either of these men wouldnât want to have sex with Sam or herself. Sam was a sexpot, that much was obvious. And as for Shailee? Well. She had a good idea what she brought to the table. Turning to the sexpot in question, Shailee raised an eyebrow as she grinned. âShall we?â
Oh, Neil knew about Aidenâs little âvirginityâ problem, because Sam had a tendency to run her mouth, but that didnât matter just then. As long as no one said anything about it, then things would go off without a hitch. âMe? Scare someone off?â Sam asked Shailee, a wink and a grin accompanying the question. âWho would be scared of little old me? Anyway, Neil isnât scared of anything,â she added, tugging on Neilâs sleeve. âAre you?â She let go a second later, and she nudged Aidenâs shoulder with her own as she walked past him. âNice shoes, baby,â was the greeting he got, and she knew heâd give her something equally smartass in return, but that was ok. Compared to Liam? Aiden was a saint. A virgin saint, which was kind of fitting, actually.
âThis way,â Sam said, nodding to the last door at the end of the long hall. The men at the bar seemed placated by Neilâs appearance, because they grumbled and turned back to their drinks, and Sam couldnât help but chuckle as she tugged Shailee against her side. âSo,â she said, as they entered the room, which was plush red, couches, a bar for their use, and a fireplace, âI think your badass should go with Aiden to that stupid party in Paris.â Because that much was true. She shook her head almost imperceptibly at Neil, a no, she doesnât know, because she wasnât going around outing that he had the Phantom in his head. But Aidenâs conversation with Raoul had been public, and there was no point hiding that. With that proclamation, Sam flopped onto a couch, all indecently short skirt, and she pointed at the bar. âGet me a drink?â she asked Neil.
After a mock glance downward at his watch, Neil lifted his gaze and shrugged. âYeah, a meeting ran over. I didnât miss anything good, did I?â He wasnât overly concerned, since he wasnât actually that late, though Aidenâs smirk wasnât lost on him. Yeah, it was pretty funny, the guy with the Phantom in his head rooming with the girl who had Christine in hers. Even he could see the humor in it, even though there were far too many complications for him to actually find it as amusing as Aiden did. Then again, he knew a little something the other man didnât, which made it easy to grin in return. The poor guy had no idea about Samâs plan to set him up with her friend, who admittedly wasnât bad to look at. Still, aside from a subtle appraisal, he was careful to avoid outright staring.
âNice to meet you, Shailee.â Neil said, glancing over at Sam with raised eyebrows. âScare me off? Never. Like Sam said, Iâm fearless.â With a wave and a smile for the men at the bar, Neil joined the trio as they made their way down the hall and into the room that was all theirs for the night. He wisely stayed out of the Paris party conversation, since Erik had his own plans for Raoulâs pre-wedding bash, and while he probably should have said something, he actually felt like the guy was justified in his anger. Erik was no saint, but Raoul was nothing but a rich, pompous bully. Instead he seized the opportunity to get Samâs drink, complete with a smirk and a teasing âAs the lady commands,â before heading to the bar and ordering a whiskey for himself and a beer for Sam, which he passed to her before settling down on the couch beside her.
Aiden only snorted at the responding comments, and at Samâs appraisal of his shoes - were they really that noticeable? - before following the rest through the lounge into the private room. It was classy. He felt distinctly out of place for a few seconds before remembering that it was a private room, and therefore he wasnât going to be harassed about it by strangers, and relaxed as he sat down on one of the couches.
âIf youâre interested,â Aiden said to Shailee at Samâs suggestion, shrugging. He was going, obviously, but it wasnât really him who was going to be there. Nadir would be the one responsible for keeping an eye on - and ideally pistolwhipping - Raoul and making sure that nothing really exciting happened. Having some backup might be a good idea. The man himself made no comment on the matter. âWhoâve you gotten stuck with?â Sam referred to whoever it was as a badass, much like Shailee herself, so who knew? It could be a definite plus.
Aiden glanced at the bar and made his way over there when Neil returned, picking up a straight shot of vodka (or two) and downing one even before he sat. It burned, and he nearly hissed at the burn, but that just meant he was doing it right.
âA party in Paris sounds like it would be exactly up her alley.â Knowing Natashaâs proclivities, she would find a way to combine a trip to France with an interrogation or reconnaissance mission. Business and pleasure were often one and the same, when it came to Natasha. Which, Shailee supposed, was why she was as good as she was at what she did. âA SHIELD agent, from the Marvel door.â Shailee figured that Loki had caused enough of a ruckus to where news from beyond the door had made it to the Vegas side. âDefinitely very much a badass, though I donât know how well sheâd take to being called mine.â
Shailee hesitated for a moment, looking instinctively at Sam, before following Aiden to the bar. She was here on a mission after all, and she figured Sam could use the alone time to get cracking on her roommate. âWhoa there,â she laughed, coming up behind the man taking shots, âsave some for me.â
Aiden hadnât honestly expected Shailee to follow him to the bar, and seemed a little surprised when she was suddenly there, half-laughing (at him?). He set down the empty shot glass and held onto the full one, raising an eyebrow at her.
âIâm sure theyâve got plenty more where this came from.â It was probably a bad idea to start off the evening with straight shots, especially since the little meeting wasnât looking too problematic, so for once he didnât immediately down the second drink. Instead he turned over the thought of her other self. A SHIELD agent? He hadnât read comics much lately, but he gleaned enough information off the internet to know that was at least a fairly good thing to go to a potentially disastrous party with. âTheyâre going to have to put up with it. On this side, theyâre basically associated with us; even if itâs not a legitimate possessions thing, they still count as âoursâ.â
Sam propped her legs up on Neilâs thighs, bare legs sliding against expensive fabric. She stole his whiskey and downed it, and then she offered him a sip of her beer. She nodded toward Shailee and Aiden, smug approval on her ample lips, and she leaned forward and whispered in Neilâs ear. âSo far, so good. Think sheâs hot?â she asked him, and maybe it was a test, but whatever, it was a question, and she quirked a blonde brow and waited for a response, even as she waved the bartender over and had him leave the whiskey on the table at Neilâs arm.
As for parties in Paris, Sam had no reason to believe Neil wouldnât tell her if he intended to go, and she waited to see if he ponied up. They hadnât talked about whether or not Erik had taken Christine up on the offer to stay, and she considered waiting that out too, but curiosity got the better of her in the end. She handed over the empty whiskey glass, wanting a refill, and then she lowered her voice. âSo, is he staying there?â she asked, another lingering glance at Aiden and Shailee as she asked, one to make sure they were near the bar, out of hearing range. Oh, Aiden already knew about the offer of Parisian digs, but Sam was trying to be good about who she ran her mouth at with shit that wasnât hers to tell.
âHey.â His protest came too late, since his whiskey was already gone, and Neil heaved a mock sigh before accepting her beer and taking an intentionally long swig. Aiden and Shailee seemed to be getting along well enough, at least from what he could see, and he smirked in agreement. âMaybe youâll get him laid after all.â Oh, he knew better than to answer her question with honesty, which would have been a yes, and shrugged instead. âHe seems to think so,â was his self-satisfied response. Neil leaned back against the couch with a stretch of limbs and a sigh, having no immediate intentions of moving from his position.
Maybe he should have told about Erikâs party-crashing plans, but he was too pissed at Raoul to care about saving his precious get-together. Neil would keep Erik from killing anyone, of course, but if he wanted to cause some trouble, he was well within his rights. The guy had destroyed the only home heâd known. Payback, unfortunately, was a bitch. He refilled her glass first, and then took a drink straight from the bottle himself, before answering. âYeah,â he said, voice low. âHe didnât have much of a choice.â
So maybe they didnât look so casual, Sam realized, all sprawled arms and her thighs over his but whatever. She didnât care about impressions very much, and she leaned across Neil to pluck the bottle from between his fingers when she was done with her refill. Getting drunk was good, she decided, tipping her head back to give Shailee and Aiden a long look. Yeah, maybe Aiden would lose his V-card. And if it was Shai doing the claiming? Well, he was a lucky bastard, and Sam knew it. She glanced back at Neil when he not-answered, and she laughed and then dragged blunt nails along the back of his neck as she draped her arm there, a thoughtless (totally without hidden meaning, thank you) scratch. âSheâs hot, and we both know it. What? Did you decide Iâm a Victorian virgin that needs lying to?â she asked, clearly entertained by the notion. Sure, this whole thing with Christine was too close for comfort, but three drinks in? Yeah, didnât matter so much.
âGood,â was Samâs reply to the confirmation that Erik had gone to stay at Christineâs house, and she finally rolled her eyes and conceded to voicing Christineâs opinion. âSheâs glad too, and she thinks Raoul was an ass to do it.â Which wasnât how Christine would have said it, but whatever. âShe wants to go see him, but she promised she wouldnât so-â Here she shrugged. No one knew better than Neil how badly they sucked at keeping anyone from going through the door. âAnd sheâs kind of freaked he wants to drag her away from Paris.â And maybe drinking was better than talking. She took another swig, and she handed the bottle back over.
The point where Neil cared how they looked was somewhere behind him, definitely not in the present moment, even if he would never admit to being secretly pleased with their comfortable sprawl of limbs despite whatever implications could be drawn from it.âIf we both know it,â he said, raising his eyebrows, âthen why ask?â There were times when he worried about how much of an influence Erik actually had on him, at least where Christine was involved, but tonight the man was a distant memory and his presence was barely even a whisper. âGive me some credit, Sam. Iâd never mistake you for a Victorian virgin.â The whiskey went a long way towards loosening his tongue, and it probably had something to do with the way his arm found its way around her waist, though it also made sense strategically.
âNo arguments here. Hold on-- she wants to see Erik?â Neil somehow managed to keep his voice from rising too loudly, though volume control had ceased to become a major priority. That was bad, because Erik wanted to see her too, even though he thought it was a disaster waiting to happen. Unless she meant Raoul, who he didnât give a damn about anyway. âYeah, heâs not thrilled about that,â he frowned, which was perhaps his only hint of a warning to Erikâs future plans. He took the bottle back and gulped down a few burning mouthfuls of amber liquid, not bothering to ask if Christine wanted to go or not; even if she didnât he doubted she would or could tell Raoul no.
âTo see if you gave me a bullshit answer,â Sam replied, easy grin and enough booze in her system not to worry about his arm around her waist. When she was sober lately, things got confused, maybe, or maybe it was just liking someone beyond the desire to find a flat surface to shove them against. Maybe, even worse, it was about actually giving a shit about keeping someone around after the sun came up, and that was just too complicated to think about. But buzzed, like she was? Yeah, no, everything was immediate, and there was no thinking involved. She scoffed at his insistence that he knew she wasnât a Victorian virgin, and she stole his whiskey, mid-gulp, causing amber liquid trickle down his chin. She took another swallow for herself, ran her thumb below his lower lip, and the sucked the liquid from her thumb. âMaybe Iâm really chaste and pious on the inside,â she said, enough laugh in the suggestion that it couldnât possibly be true.
Another scoff followed when Neil asked about Christine wanting to see Erik, and Sam handed the bottle back with a roll of her eyes. âYou just donât get it, do you? Raoul is a douche, Neil. Heâs effectively made her feel sorry for Erik, and now sheâs worried about him. Not to mention the fact that the douche keeps bossing her around all over fucking Paris.â Sam sounded unimpressed. Sam was unimpressed. âWhatever. Liam lost his fucking temper because I wouldnât stay with him. Just completely lost his shit. I asked him if heâd calm the hell down if I let him fuck me.â Another swig.
âHm.â Neil tilted his head to the side in mock thoughtfulness. âSo, if I came right out and said I thought she was hot, you wouldnât mind, huh? Thatâs what you want?â He assumed, of course, that a bullshit answer was the one to stay away from in this situation. The whiskey was good and expensive to boot, and he didnât appreciate having it taken away from him, which was expressed through a displeased sound in the back of his throat and a mock pout. âChaste and pious,â he repeated, watching her suck the amber liquid from her thumb with amusement and something else, warmer, less easily identified. âIt wouldnât suit you, for starters, if it was true. Which it isnât, but nice try.â
He shook his head a little too insistently. âI know Raoulâs a douche, Sam. Erik is fine. Well, he will be fine. Eventually. She should just go do her own thing,â he decided, gesturing drunkenly at some undetermined point in the distance. âScrew the both of them.â Erik didnât like that, but hey, the guy wasnât exactly stable, and he could never function in a proper relationship. It was a sad truth, but a truth all the same. He couldnât keep back a smirk when Sam mentioned that Liam had lost it, but his internal satisfaction at scoring some sort of victory vanished a moment afterward, and he had to swallow immediately to keep from spraying whiskey everywhere, which resulted in a few seconds of coughing before he managed to get words out. âWhat did he say to that?â
âIâd agree with you,â Sam said about Shaileeâs hotness. âCome on. We all know men think with their dicks,â she said, glancing down at his pants, which was more obvious than it would have been, given the fact that she had to crane her head to look past her own bare legs on his thighs. Her hair brushed his jaw, and she rested her cheek against the back of the couch when she moved back, closing her eyes for a second as the movement caught up with her. Yeah, ok, officially drunk. Her fingers dragged a path back and forth along the nape of his neck, and she grinned when he said being chaste and pious wouldnât suit her. âYeah? And here I was picturing the perfect socialite as your type.â
The suggestion that Christine go off and do her own thing made Sam laugh. Seriously? âYou need to talk to that girl, if you think thatâs even an option. She is curious about sex now, though. Chalk one up for me.â She didnât sound like she was sure that was a particularly good accomplishment. But fuck that, because she liked the way that smirk looked on his mouth, and the coughing only made her smile smugly in return. âOk, baby?â she asked, obviously not majorly concerned, since she didnât even speed up the fingers against his neck. âHe asked if I was serious, said he hadnât had sex in awhile, stalled, and then told me he didnât sleep around. I called him on that bullshit, and I havenât heard from him since. He wants me to be something Iâm not.â She shrugged. So maybe there was something vulnerable somewhere beneath all the bravado, but she sure wasnât going to show it to fucking Liam.
Neil burst into laughter when she actually craned her to look at his pants, and gave her a playful shove that lacked any real strength. âWe donât always think with our dicks. Thatâs such a generalization.â It was clear that Sam was drunk, and he certainly wasnât far off either, but it didnât bother him. He watched her lean back against the couch with a certain amount of fondness, though it was only visible when her eyes were closed and quickly disappeared afterward. âPlease,â he scoffed. âPerfect socialites are boring. Theyâre predictable. None would ever get me kicked out of a theatre, for starters.â
Okay, so it was an admittedly unrealistic suggestion, but he remained stubborn regardless. âI know itâs not an option. Iâm just saying it should be.â He raised his eyebrows at the new revelation that Christine was curious about sex, and in his mind, Erik went shock-quiet. âGreat,â he groaned. âLook, just promise me one thing. If she and Raoul have sex, please, please, donât tell me, or Erik might actually make me throw myself off a roof.â Unfortunately, Neil was only half kidding. He nodded once he had the coughing under control, shrugging it off as though it was nothing. âFine. Just went down the wrong way.â Maybe she knew better than to fall for that, but it was the best cover he could come up with. His own hypocrisy notwithstanding, he thought Liam was a fool to reject her, but hey, Neil certainly wasnât complaining. âSo, heâs an idiot. His loss,â he said, waving Liam off dismissively. âUnless youâre disappointed.â Which had just occurred to him, and hell, Neil really wished it hadnât.
âItâs a generalization that exists for a reason, baby,â Sam said, and she opened her eyes when he said socialites were boring. âYeah? They might be boring, but they donât steal your clothes, your guest room, and your booze,â she reminded him, and she patted down her hip, looking for her pack of cloves in the pocket of her skirt. She moved, shifted against him to pull out the smokes and the metal lighter, which was engraved with intricate swirls of metals, different colors, the detail work precise, and she lit a cigarette before settling back, tossing the pack and lighter on his lap, because it was easier than moving again. âThey wouldnât shove you against your glass windows either,â she added of the socialites, âand I bet they all wear bras. Every last one of them.â The entirely open back of the shirt she wore made it pretty clear, especially now that sheâd drawn attention to it, that she wasnât.
âIf she has sex with Raoul, Iâm never letting her go back,â Sam said, which was bullshit, and they both knew it. âSheâs stupid enough to think itâs her duty if she marries the moron, so how about we just hope she doesnât make it to the altar?â She quirked a brow when he said it was Liamâs loss, and she blew the distinctively sweet smoke from the cigarette at him. âI never said he turned me down, did I? He whined, and he bitched, but he didnât say no.â She watched his face, drunk and unfocused, a quirk of her brow. âDo you think heâd say no?â she asked, and there was that confidence again. Too young, too soft, not traditionally pretty, but there was no way in hell Liam wouldnât bite - if she wanted him to.
Neil waved off the generalization with a derisive snort, and he looked no more convinced by her claims of what socialites could bring to the table than he had before. âYou assume I donât want my clothes, guest room, and booze stolen,â he countered playfully. âAre you trying to convince me that I need a perfect socialite in my life?â He watched her pull out the lighter and cigarettes with a lazy sort of drunkenness, when when she tossed them onto his lap he picked up the lighter, admiring the intricate swirls and colors under the lights. âEveryone should be shoved against glass windows at least once in their lives,â he remarked, almost absently, âand as for bras, who needs âem?â His gaze lifted, predictably, now that attention had been drawn to the fact that she wasnât wearing a bra, which was impossible to miss now.
Oh, God. He groaned, leaning back against the couch, and rubbed a hand across his forehead. âYeah, we can hope.â If Erik had his way, there would be no wedding, but Neil kept that bit of information to himself. His scowl returned briefly when Sam said Liam hadnât outright told her no, which made sense, even if it wasnât what heâd wanted to hear. âNo, I donât,â he shrugged, a flippant attitude replacing his former displeasure. âYou think heâll take you up on your offer, then?â Not that he cared. Of course not.
âShit. You should have told me that sooner. I would have cleaned you out while you were at work,â Sam teased in return. His comment about the glass wall earned him a grin, while she watched him turn the lighter this way and that. She didnât notice when his gaze lifted, not immediately, which was a testament to how drunk she was, but her smile went lazy smug once she did catch on. His groan drew her attention entirely away from his perusal, though, and she watched him rubbing his hand across his forehead, trying to remember what he was reacting to. Oh, right, Christine marrying Raoul. What? It wasnât her fault he was distracting with all that leaning and rubbing. The scowl, that caught her attention, and maybe she wasnât sober enough to remember it in the morning, but she sure noticed it then. She leaned forward, close, fingers sliding around the nape of his neck tightly enough to use him for leverage. The cigarette was in her other hand, and her mouth came right up to his mouth when she spoke. âMaybe. That a problem?â she asked, before sitting back just as quickly.
If Neil was aware of the way she was watching him, he gave no outward sign, merely rolling his eyes in good humor at her teasing. Okay, so maybe heâd been sort-of staring, and it was a lot more difficult to draw his gaze away when he was drunk, but he managed. Eventually. Eye contact was made, just as Sam leaned forward, but he had no time to react before she was suddenly back out of reach, much to his frustration. Damn the alcohol and his unusually slow reflexes. âA problem?â He scoffed, stalling for time, his booze-muddled brain scrambling for an answer that wasnât too stand-offish without resorting to desperation; a futile effort. âYou can do whatever you want. If that involves having sex with Liam... then all the power to you.â Neil wasnât going to ask her not to sleep with him, nope, no way, even if the idea of the two of them together pissed him off nearly as much as the thought of Raoul and Christine angered Erik. Well, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration, but he still didnât like it, and he tried not to frown as he settled back against the couch.
Shailee threw down a shot, before ordering a G&T. She figured it would be best to slowplay it tonight, see how things went before doing anything drastic. If things didnât go according to plan, Sam and her had already promised one another to go get shitfaced elsewhere. âYeah, they are. Although I must say, sheâs been pretty accomodating so far. I think as long as we play it smart, weâll be able to hold down jobs on both ends.â Of course, it took a lot more detailed scheduling than âplaying it smartâ, but Shailee had no desire to get into the nitty gritty of the daily grind with her fictional half while she was out having fun. âHow about you? Does your person give you trouble?â Shailee had looked over Aidenâs last few interactions on the journals (spy habits die hard) and gotten to know a little bit more about him, but he didnât need to know that.
âI think so.â Aiden picked up another shot and glared at it like it had personally offended him. âHe nags and he tries to make me do more, or at least let him go through the door and take care of things, but Iâm legitimately not interested in any of that shit. And heâs not enough of an asshole to try and force me to do it.â Which was probably a good thing, given how other people were likely dealing with their own problems. Neil in particular had mentioned that the Phantom wasnât keen on letting him have his own way. âSo overall, not really, but a painâs a pain.â
Now Aiden looked at Shailee again, a stark contrast with slouched shoulders and a carelessly lazy look.
âYouâre sure youâre okay going to this party?â Aiden asked. âNo doubt whoever youâve got can handle themselves, but Iâm expecting some serious shit to hit the fan if certain people get involved. Itâll either be dangerous, or obnoxiously boring, or both, so I hope you donât have any other plans if you do go.â Heâd have to close up the shop for the day, which wasnât going to do wonderful things for his already narrow profit margin. Presumably Shailee had a more demanding job, which sheâd have to deal with if things got interesting (and time-consuming).
âThatâs good. I canât imagine how annoying it would be if you couldnât work out a compromise with them. Granted, they canât force you through the door, but they can definitely make your life a living hell out here if they tried.â Natasha had never threatened to do such a thing, but Shailee knew better than to underestimate the assassin, and she had a feeling the redhead felt the same way. Shailee mulled over Aidenâs question as she swirled her drink. Unknown to Aiden, he had Natasha hooked at the mention of danger, because of course, where Natasha Romanoff was involved, boredom was never an option. The issue would be Shaileeâs schedule. If things were going to go down behind the doors, it would be better for her to be there, especially when her only assignment at the moment involved keeping an eye on various persons of interest. âI think I can manage it. Iâm sort of... at the early stages of my project at work so I think I can duck--â
Shaileeâs words were cut short by a loud vibration against her hand. âShit,â she muttered under her breath, throwing back the last of her drink as she fished her phone out of her purse. She knew that particular length of vibration. She had dubbed it the âshit shit weâre all about to dieâ signal, one that only came to her when SHIELD needed Natasha on the double. Sure enough, the message on her phone when she clicked it on was short and dire. New York City on the other side of the door was losing its mind. âIâm sorry, thereâs an emergency across the door. I have to go. But,â she paused, smiling apologetically, âmy girl is definitely interested in going to this party. It was nice meeting you, Aiden. I wish the world behind that door had chosen another time to go beserk.â
That she could tell exactly when, according to her ⊠phone? She had a phone? Some of these damned notebooks were actual technology? Aiden fought back a curse of his own, especially when she said there was an emergency on her side of the door and she had to leave. Right now. Suddenly the lack of technological development on his notebook was a positive thing; heâd hate to know constantly when people were trying to destroy the Opera House, or all of Paris, or something similar.
âYou too,â Aiden said. âI suppose weâll be in touch about the party pretty soon. Hope whatever emergency youâve got doesnât destroy your entire other world.â
Her goodbyes at the bar complete, Shailee walked back to where Sam and Neil looked extremely cozy (attagirl), dropping in close to give her friend a quick peck against the corner of her mouth. âBadass emergency on the other side. Gotta go save the world from imploding.â Straightening back up, she flashed Neil a quick smile. âIt was nice meeting you, Neil. Donât let her drive you too crazy.â
Sam stretched up lazily, and she returned Shaileeâs kiss with an expression that didnât do shit to hide her concern. âBe careful. Call my ass once youâre back, so I know you didnât explode into a ball of hot.â
âNice to meet you too, Shailee,â he said with a grin. âGood luck with saving the world.â Neil supposed he should be grateful that he didnât need to worry about any large-scale threats on his side of the door, especially since Erik was seen as the villain of the story, but it might be nice to have someone who did something other than angsting in basements and terrorizing people who pissed him off.
Sam glanced over at Aiden, once Shailee had left the room, and she shoved at the opposite couch with her booted foot. âSit down. Letâs talk about your challengefest with the ponce.â She glanced toward the door, though, where Shailee had gone. âLike her?â she asked, as if it didnât matter at all. What? She could be subtle sometimes.
Aiden made his way to the couch at Samâs words, sitting down heavily with (yet another) shot in hand. He didnât drink it quite yet, choosing instead to lean forward with his arms on his knees and eye the other two and their ⊠sprawl. He raised his eyebrows briefly but didnât make a comment yet. If they wanted to get involved, whether for one night or something else, that was their prerogative and not his problem - though eventually, when the Phantom cast got involved, it would become very much his problem, thank you Nadir.
âMy what?â he asked, a little irritated, and then followed it with, âShe seems relatively normal. Nice, not too obnoxious, not obsessed with this problem weâre all saddled with. But I didnât talk with her for very long. Going to need more than one meeting to judge her properly.â He said it with a light tone, but there was a level of seriousness to it. Aiden judged. It was just what he did. It was one of the many reasons he could count the number of legitimate friends he had without running out of fingers.
Aidenâs raise of eyebrows didnât go unnoticed, and Sam just rolled her eyes and untangled herself from Neil. It took some work, because she wasnât exactly steady just then. She had to catch herself with a hand on Neilâs knee before she managed it completely, and she crossed over to Aidenâs couch once she did. She dropped herself right down on Aidenâs lap, before sliding intentionally onto the cushion, between his hip and the arm of the couch, legs stretched over his. She stole his drink and downed it, knowing perfectly well heâd bitch at her for it, and then she smiled a drunk smile and she took a drag off her clove. âDone with the fucking eyebrow?â she asked, before moving on to the subject at hand, no lingering looks across to the other couch, nope, not even one. âI saw you posturing with Raoul on the journals, and Iâm pretty sure he handed you your ass.â
Sulking was Erikâs territory, wholly and without question, which was why Neil fought valiantly to keep from doing just that when Sam struggled to her feet and settled herself down beside Aiden on his couch. He contented himself with what was left of the whiskey, pointedly ignoring Aidenâs eyebrow raise, and listened to his opinion of Shailee. Not exactly high praise, but he was pretty sure it was promising for a guy like Aiden; Sam might get what she wanted in the end after all. As much as he disliked Raoul, he could help a snicker when his conversation with Aiden was brought up. âNo one wants to admit they had their ass handed to them by Raoul, Sam. Cut him some slack.â
At that, Aiden outright bristled. Arguing with a hundred-years-dead arrogant prick was bad enough, if different from usual, but to lose the conversation to him had been outright embarrassing. Though Raoul had hit a sore point with him, and that generally turned Aidenâs otherwise stellar arguing skills into complete shit. For someone who lauded himself on being so good and a golden-haired prince compared to the dark attitude of the Phantom, the man could be as bad a jackass as anyone.
âHe didnât hand me my ass,â Aiden said sharply. âHe aimed below the belt and it stung, all right? He didnât out-argue me or anything serious.â Heâd just implied something Aiden spent his time trying to wipe out with alcohol - something he already knew every day of his life. And speaking of alcohol, he finished off his last shot and wondered if another was going to be necessary. âThe lot of you wouldnât have done any better, and I was just saying what everyone else wouldnât.â
This was going to be one hell of a party upcoming, Aiden knew it. As he glanced up at Neil and then over at Sam, disgruntled by her decision to sprawl all over him and steal his shot but too irritated by the turn in conversation to try and argue her away, Aiden wondered just how much shit the three of them were about to get into.