arabella alaire. (corsaired) wrote in emillion, |
The Blue Bear wasn’t the sort of establishment Arabella made a point in frequenting — it wasn’t that she turned her nose up at dives, but it was a little too rough and rundown for her tastes. The air was heavy with smoke and the smell of ale, and Bella could feel some of the patrons leering at her from their their stools. Their glances didn’t faze her — the time when she blushed and squirmed under the gaze of men was long behind her — but it didn’t endear her to the locale, either. Still, there was no better place in the tenements for a business meeting.
After wrapping up her meeting (a smuggling job she politely declined), she made her way over to Cian’s table. She had noticed the gambler earlier but had been too busy to give him more than a nod.
Peering over at his whiskey, her mouth curled into a smirk. “Your drink looks much more appetizing than mine, darling,” she said brightly, gesturing with her half-drunk mug of ale.
He smiled at her with something resembling warmth — hard not to, considering she was a spectacularly beautiful woman and he had perfectly functional eyes and a healthy imagination. “Hey, gorgeous,” he said, indicating the seat across from his, wondering if she would sit. Their relationship had always been all business, but he could hardly be blamed for looking, could he?
“Pays to know the owner, I guess,” he added when she commented on his whiskey. He raised his hand, waved absently, knowing the bartender would return to his side promptly regardless of what other activity he might be engaged in right at the moment. “I’ll have the whole bottle brought out if you’re willing to split it with me.”
Arabella perched herself on the edge of the seat she was offered and leaned forward, propping her elbows up on the table. Her face scrunched up in thought as she pretended to muse over the offer — really, there was no way she was going to turn down whiskey with Cian Wilde. “Now, how could I turn that down? I’d be a fool to refuse a drink with the only good looking man in the whole bar,” she added, giving the rest of the bar a very skeptical sweeping glance.
“The bottle it is, then.” The bartender, who had approached their table nodded and retreated to the back of the bar. “I have him throw out other good-looking men at the door if they dare to show their faces,” he told her with an amused chuckle. “Surest way to get a beautiful woman’s attention. I miss the thrill of competition once in awhile, but I make it up elsewhere.”
The bartender returned then with the half full bottle and a second glass, leaving them on the table and retreating without a word. “Great service, gorgeous company, decent whiskey,” he said, picking up the bottle to pour her drink. “Can’t beat it after the day I’ve had.”
There was no replacing rum in Bella's heart, but fine whiskey was certainly a close second. She took her glass from Cian and gently swirled it for a moment, giving him an appreciative grin before taking a long sip. It was top shelf, there was no doubting that. Certainly much better than the dubious contents of her ale mug.
"Oh?" She arched an eyebrow as she gave him a curious look, her smile quickly replaced by a sympathetic frown. "I'm sorry to hear that, darling. I have a sympathetic ear and a shoulder to offer if you're in need." Her day hadn't exactly been great, either, but this encounter was certainly making it better.
“People are fucking morons,” he told her. “Sure you can relate.” It seemed to be a problem shared by the few sensible people he knew. He tapped his glass against hers, then — hell, why not? — told her: “Some idiot tried to mug me today.” He still had the slash in his shirt, though at least the wound had been healed earlier. “So here’s to shitty life choices.”
He drank his whiskey, set the glass down with a thump. He wasn’t about to tell her the rest of it - about the buildings and the money and the crappy little mattress over at Water Street - so he said instead, “I’ll take that shoulder, though I might not cry on it.” A grin, to show he was — mostly — joking. “Just a warning.”