Cian & Charity | Dusk | COMPLETE
He liked Kerwonian food, and he didn’t mind drunk women, either. He might not be much of a drinker, but Bierfest had other charms.
Which was how Cian found himself wandering down a Commoners’ District street at dusk, finishing up some fairly excellent dumplings, which he was picking off of a flimsy paper plate, and contemplating whether or not to duck into one of the bars for awhile. He was in a pretty decent mood, which wasn’t common recently. Might as well capitalize on it.
He heard the woman before he saw them -- shrieks and giggles and a nasal, high-pitched voice chanting “Chug chug chugchugchug!” He was going to pass them by -- packs of women were usually bad news -- when he recognized a blonde head among the crowd and grinned, oh no, this he couldn’t pass up.
As if Lady Luck had heard his thoughts, the young brunette frantically finishing off a rather large stein of beer wobbled on her feet; in instants, Cian was there, supporting her under her elbows before she could fall. “Careful there,” he told the brunette, but his grin was for the blonde in the group. “Wouldn’t want to have to try getting up once you’ve fallen down.” She was drunk enough that it would pose a serious challenge.
"'M'fine!!" the girl giggled, running her free hand through her hair in a way she clearly thought was suave. "But YOU should buy me another, mister!" She poked Cian in the chest, grinning through her booze-haze.
Charity Laroque, tight-lipped smile affixed to her face, eyed Cian over the girl's shoulder before giving her a tap. When the girl turned, The Golden Girl was firmly in-character again. "Oh, you don't want him, Beatrezia. Trust me!" Charity laughed brightly, waving a hand in a dismissive flourish.
"Why not?" Beatrezia pouted, eyeing Cian up and down. "He looks like a fine time to me, Char." She chucked him under the chin, her attempt at a sultry leer disrupted by a hiccough. "Aren't you, darling?"
Cian chucked. “Oh, I’m a fine enough time, for sure.” If he wasn’t almost certain the drunk brunette came with a pedigree, he might have taken her up on it, all things considered. She was pretty good-looking, though he had a notion that Charity might purposefully pick friends just a little less attractive than herself.
Couldn’t outshine the queen bee, and all that.
Still, the game was worth playing, so he gave Charity his very best hurt look and said, “Now really, sweetheart, you’re still sore about that? I said I’d call; I never said when.”
"Ew, as if!" Charity squealed, throwing up her hands. "As if a lady of my station would lower myself to let a street thug into my bed. The nerve of you, Mr. Wilde." Registering after a moment that she wasn't playing sufficiently drunk, she put a little sway into her body language and a little quaver into her voice. "S'… ridiculous!"
Beatrezia Maracott, who did indeed have a pedigree as long as her arm, burst out in a fit of giggles. "Oh Char, don't be a biiiiitch," she crooned. "He looks nice enough for street trash. What's yer naaame, handsome?"