angry. (rebelleux) wrote in emillion, @ 2013-07-03 16:28:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, cian wilde, euphemia seurle |
Who: Euphemia Seurle and Cian Wilde
What: Flirty times.
Where: Puzzles in the Commoners' District
When: July 3, 2013 ugh idk what day that is in Ivalice, I'll get to it when I'm done petting my guinea pig
Rating: PG-13 tbh, it's a pretty tame night
Status: Completed
Between taking care of her cantankerous and injured father, a trio of troublesome children, and her usual assortment of chores and responsibilities, Euphemia was in need of a well-deserved break. While her employment was not as regular as some of her peers, she made enough gil to afford a few nights out every once in awhile, and she had done well in selling her last batch of rhubarb-and-strawberry pies during the last weekend bazaar. Enough so that when she filled up her little money-bag, it bulged comfortably with gold coins, and she could hear them delightfully jingling with every step she took to her preferred haunt for nights like these, Puzzles, which was no Sackheim Inn, certainly, but much more enjoyable than paying for overpriced drinks and conversing with snooty nobles. At the very least, she thought so.
She walked to the bar, hoping she would probably see a familiar face -- but once she stepped in, alas, she couldn’t see a single expression she recognized. No matter: after all, she was just stepping in for a tipple and to relax, and maybe having a drink or two by herself wasn’t going to be awful. Besides, she thought as she eyed the other patrons, no reason why she couldn’t just strike up a conversation with an interesting-looking stranger. She ordered her preferred drink (an amaretto sour, sweet and tangy), sipping at it as she scanned the room. She could see a few eyes lingering on her, probably taking note of the fact she was a young woman alone, but she could handle herself -- perhaps she was no gallant knight, but she didn’t like to consider herself helpless, and she had lived in the Tenement district at one point; she was tougher than most might expect.
Things had been a hassle lately, in a number of ways. He didn’t like it, but varying his routine seemed the easiest way to avoid the council bitch until he figured out exactly how and when to deal with her. It’d been awhile since he’d had to stalk and kill someone; he was out of practice, admittedly, but the situation was complicated enough without involving one of his enforcers, so he’d just have to do it himself. Until then, he conducted business in unusual places, venturing out of the Tenements to meet his contacts, strike deals, arrange shipments and games.
Puzzles was all right, for that sort of thing. They got a motley group in, so he didn’t stand out, and the drink menu was varied enough that he could even find weak beer, though not as weak as he’d specifically arranged at the Bear. Still, a few sips weren’t going to do much, especially after his recent overindulgence in whiskey. He wasn’t doing that again; though it had helped with the pain at the time, the result just hadn’t been worth it. It was a good thing he’d kicked tiny out before he’d really lost his mind; she might’ve looked pretty good once he was drunk enough.
And speaking of looking good...
He watched a pretty blonde walk in, take a seat by herself, scan the room. Looking for company? Now that he wasn’t feeling broken in eighty places, the idea held some merit. As her eyes passed over him, he gave her a crooked smile, raised his glass. If she decided to give him the time of day, he might consider going over, chatting her up a bit. She didn’t look like she could possibly be another Faram-damned ninja, so that was already a point in her favor.
It didn’t take long for Euphie to lock eyes with Cian; she could feel the heat of his gaze from behind her, and she simply had to turn that aforementioned pretty little blonde head in order to see him -- dark-haired, tall, roguishly handsome with stubble on his face and enough tattoos visible that it had her vaguely wondering about the skin she couldn’t see -- before she let herself smile deliciously slow and very deliberately. She was here to blow off steam, after all; sometimes, all one needed was a random evening dalliance to get rid of the edge that had her grinding her teeth these past few nights, wondering if a zombie mage was about to blow up her home while she lay in her bed, sleeping. Things she didn’t feel she should be worrying about, anyhow.
She took another sip of her drink, considering. If she were the one to go talk to him, she would certainly be inviting a certain kind of interaction. And as much as she wanted to just jump into the thick of things, she wasn’t so sure she wanted to do so with a stranger. No, she had time, and she had no idea if he had just been casually glancing around or if he had truly been watching her. She turned around and away from him, deciding to stay in her seat. It would be better this way, if only because she could then gauge his interest and decide on her own.
She would give him a few minutes, she reasoned, before she began to turn her interest to someone else. The smile had certainly been an invitation for some closer flirtation, and she didn’t want to deter her amusement for the night by immediately throwing it at someone else.
That smile was an invitation if he’d ever seen one. Really lit up her face, too. Honestly, how could a man resist?
He gave her a few moments, biding his time, before standing from his seat and making his way over, his expression still pleasant, if a bit cocky. A good combination, he’d found; most women seemed susceptible to a little bit of trouble, and he never let on just how much trouble he actually was at the first meeting, or at the second.
“You looked lonely,” he said, giving her another smile. She had enormous blue eyes in that pretty face of hers. Definitely a worthwhile use of time. He settled on the stool next to hers, set down his mostly-full glass. “Buy your next drink?” he asked, his tone casual. If she agreed, he had a drink and a half to talk to her, if not - no harm no foul, and a man didn’t win unless he took a risk and played.
Euphie acted as if she had to think about it, but the moment he opened his mouth, she knew she was going to agree. There was just something about older men that interested her -- and this guy, with his seemingly cavalier attitude, certainly piqued her interest. She couldn’t very well turn down a free drink, even if she had more than enough to buy a few for herself.
“Sure,” she said, and there was the beginnings of a smirk on her lips, the edges turning up delicately. Now that he was closer, she could see he was much better-looking than she had anticipated. Rather than unnerving her, she felt emboldened by it. “I guess I could use one to nurse my loneliness, huh?” There was a laugh in her eyes, and she took another slow sip from her drink -- she was barely down one-quarter of the whole thing, so they had plenty of time to chat, if he saw fit.
“Do I get to know who’s buying me a drink?” she asked. She shifted on her stool, orienting herself so that she faced him a bit more, her legs crossed one over the other. “Or are you going to play the mysterious and handsome stranger card all night?”
“I could,” he said easily, “but that doesn’t seem the winning hand.” He picked up his glass, touched it against hers, drank. “Cian,” he offered -- no need for a family name; though this wasn’t the Tenements and she was unlikely to be familiar with it, his name was one he had assumed for purposes of business. This was all indulgence on his part.
“And you, sugar?” Not that he intended to remember it, if it came to that, but it never hurt to ask. “Pretty girl like you, looking lonely -- that seems the real mystery here. Apparently, the other men in here are blind.”
As he talked, she took a few more sips from her amaretto sour, trying hard (and succeeding) at hiding her grin.
“Euphie,” came the reply. Just like he, she saw no need to offer more information than that -- full name, last name, anything really. A pretty face was what he saw and liked; she didn’t need to give him anything more than that. “You can call me Euphie.”
She smiled coyly at his next statement. “Maybe I like being a mystery,” she quipped, polishing off the rest of her drink. “I just got here, truthfully. Maybe if you had given them more time...”
“Pretty name.” Which he’d never use, but she didn’t need to know that, either. “Their hesitation is my gain, then,” he told her. “Boldness gets you everywhere,” he added with a chuckle to indicate it was a joke - mostly. Even if he had found that in a great many situations, it was also exactly the way the world worked. “And I never said I didn’t like a little mystery - keeps things interesting.”
He took another tiny sip of his beer before continuing, “Aside from being mysterious and lonely, what do you do? Or is that,” he grinned “breaking the mystique? Wouldn’t want to do that.” Not a ninja, anyway. Not Thieves’ Guild at all; she didn’t have that look about her. Maybe it was about time that he met normal women in bars. This one probably wouldn’t try to stab him in his sleep.
Her drink was gone, he noted; he raised his hand and gestured the bartender over. “Another of the same?” he asked, nodding at her glass.
“If you don’t mind,” she replied, and once she saw the bartender was beginning to make her drink, she continued, “What I do is most likely not interesting to you. A few odd jobs here and there? Do you like pies? Sometimes I sell some in the bazaar. I help my old man out in his smithy. Besides that, I find time to go to bars and look mysterious enough to entice others into thinking I’m lonely.” She grinned. “How’s that for bold? I don’t care too much for mystique, in all honesty, but there’s only so many interesting details I can really say about myself.”
By the time she stopped speaking, her drink was made; the bartender slid it over to her, and she took the cold glass in her hand and grasped it to keep it from sliding off the counter.
“What do you do?” Euphie asked, tilting her head so that those long, fair locks of hair cascaded down one shoulder and over her decolletage, shining in the dim red light of the tavern. “Unless you’re trying to stay mysterious. Or, wait, let me take a stab at guessing?”
She paused, looking him up and down with a scrutinizing eye. “You’re not an actor or something, are you?”
He was so surprised, he barked out a laugh, honest and hearty. “Now there’s a new one,” he replied at length, shaking his head. Not that he advertised his actual vocation, or his membership in the ‘Bards’ Guild,’ but he had little in common with the bards and orators he had met, aside from an ability to school his expression. That did come in handy, he had to admit. “Got to be honest, can’t imagine where that came from. Why do you say so?” he asked, clearly amused.
“By the way,” he added, addressing her earlier point, “anyone who tells you they don’t like pie is lying. Never trust someone like that -- they’re shady for sure.”
“Ya got the looks for it,” she said casually, lips pursed as she took a long, long draw from her straw, grinning as the liquid zipped down her throat (and into her bloodstream). A lovely little flush was beginning to settle on those pale cheeks. “You’re good-looking enough to be an actor, is what I mean. Or maybe you could be...” She trailed off, again evaluating his appearance, this time with an accompanied gesture of rubbing her chin speculatively. “You’d make a pretty good sky pirate with all those tattoos.”
“And that’s just the ones you see,” he said, giving her a knowing look. “Wrong again -- though I do like to fly. I’ve got a hoverbike -- or did,” he amended after a moment, scrubbing his hand back through his hair. “Crashed it last week in that mess at the docks. Damn shame, really, I loved that bike.”
He gave the bike a moment of silence and a slightly bigger sip of beer before continuing. “Still guessing, or should I tell you? Though maybe I should let you keep thinking I’m into something exciting.”
She made a generally sympathetic noise, reaching a hand over to pat Cian on the arm. “Sorry for your loss,” she said, grinning. She was drinking slowly, but soon, all that would be left of her beverage would be the slick and shiny ice cubes. Such was the way of alcoholic drinks, Euphie figured: one or two sips, and then suddenly!, they were all gone.
“But no, don’t tell me.” She cocked her head to the other side now, took a hand and brushed her hair behind one shell-shaped ear with her small fingers. “Give me one more shot. Third time’s a charm, right? Or was this four?” She didn’t really care, either way. Euphie was just eager for conversation and afraid that dropping it would replace it with an unbreakable and awkward silence -- it had happened enough times that she did her best to avoid and prevent them (and she was rather good at avoiding and preventing them, as it so happened). “You’re an -- artist,” she ventured, not sure if she was being serious about it or not.
She was entertaining, he had to give her that. Not to mention pretty, seemingly harmless, and apparently just a little bit tipsy. He’d definitely picked the right place to work tonight. “Should I offer to paint you?” he asked, his tone obviously entertained. “Might not look much like you -- never held a brush in my life -- but I bet we could find some other way to make the experience memorable.” Involving a different sort of artistry, if it came to that.
“That was your last shot,” he told her, shaking his head, though there was still a smile on his face. “Guess it’s time to disillusion you. Nothing quite so romantic as an actor, or a pirate, or an artist, I’m afraid. Just a businessman.” He shrugged, putting on a chagrined expression, though his eyes were bright with his amusement. “Numbers and ledgers - and telling people what to do. Disappointed?” With another of those crooked smiles, he added, “For romance, I play some cards. I’m a pretty lucky guy - built my entire business on my winnings.”
Oho. She raised her eyebrows at that first statement, another sip at her drink, another smile on her face. He was charming -- very much so, the kind of practiced charming that Euphie knew pointed to the fact he had experience in this kind of rapport, that there was a cockiness that stemmed from knowing what he was doing. She didn’t mind; after all, she wasn’t playing at possible wife here, just a little tit-for-tat in terms of some good conversing and a nice-looking face to stare at while doing so.
“Only a little,” she teased, “you should’ve lied and stuck with the artist thing. I might’ve let you paint me sometime, since you asked so nicely. But gambling, huh? Can’t say I know a lot about that kind of stuff.” A few of the young men she had grown up with gambled on weekends and she had gone once or twice to those casual card tournaments, but the way Cian said it, he sounded like he might be a tier or two or three above what her friends liked to do. “You seem like a pretty lucky guy then, hm?”
“And here I thought women liked it when men told the truth.” He quirked a brow, then tapped their glasses together once again. Hers was almost empty, though his was still close to half-full -- but he thought a drink and a half had been enough time to catch and hold interest. “To white lies in the name of excitement, then. I’d hate to disappoint.” He drank, waiting for her to do the same, which would leave nothing but ice cubes in her glass.
“Pretty lucky -- that’s me,” he agreed, setting his glass back on the bar. “It’s a good way to blow off some steam. Maybe I’ll take you out to a game sometime, win you a few hundred gil.” Nothing too extravagant; this girl wouldn’t be the type for high stakes. But five, six hundred was easy, and went a long way for a blacksmith’s assistant who occasionally sold baked goods at market. “Trade you for...” he let the pause stretch out, gave her another knowing look, then finished, “a pie.”
“Just a pie?” she asked coyly, but her eyes were glittering. She was clearly pleased and now beginning to feel the two drinks that had gone down her gullet, warming up her blood. “For a few hundred gil, huh? Guess I’ll have to make it a damn good pie.” She couldn’t tell if he was serious at all about it, though she had to admit, the mentioning of money had her interest piqued -- what? she was only human! But then again, she couldn’t very well just assume. “Or maybe you’d like something else too?”
“I’ll bet you make a pretty good pie,” he told her easily. “Besides, walking in with the prettiest girl in the room’s a powerful lucky charm. We both win.” Being a good gambler meant reading people, and he thought he had her measure. His offer hadn’t been expected -- at least, that offer hadn’t been expected. A little bit of that mystique she claimed not to want -- doing the expected was overrated. Making any other offers right now was an unnecessary risk, so he only added, “Still, if you think of something else, you let me know. I can be accommodating.”
“No, I think we can do that.” Euphemia didn’t know whether she could count on him for coming through or not, but -- well, if he did, she would be pleased. There was something a little dangerous about the whole thing. Perhaps it was just her inner romantic coloring up the situation, but hearing Cian say those words -- walking in with the prettiest girl in the room’s a powerful lucky charm -- brought forth the kind of mental image she liked. The kind of glamour she never got to experience.
She swished around her empty glass, letting the ice cubes knock against the side. “I think I’m done for the night,” she announced, and Euphie turned to Cian, grinning cheekily. “Thanks for the drink, Cian.”
“Anytime, sugar,” he replied. “We’ll do it again.” Assurance; he doubted she’d say no. “I’ll look you up for that game sometime soon,” he added. Give her a few days to think about the encounter before following through. “Be safe getting home.” He didn’t offer an escort -- that sort of offer came with other expectations, and it was better all around to leave it here for now.
“I will,” she said, and because she didn’t have anything else to say, she tipped her head at him when she pushed away from the counter and off the stool. Whether she saw him again or not, she’d leave it up to chance. She didn’t really put much into hoping when it came to these sort of things, and she didn’t really know if she cared enough to put stock into it.
But it’d be nice, she’d reflect later on, if he actually followed up on the offer.
Euphie paused as she walked past him, then put her hand on his shoulder. She leaned down until her lips brushed against his ear. “See you around,” Euphie said, and with that, she was out the door.