InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "*insert evil cackle here*"

Vincent (king_of_gods) wrote in paxletalelogs,
@ 2010-08-03 18:01:00

Entry tags:

aphrodite, zeus

Who: Lia & Vince.
What: Hookah and catching up night.
Where: Hookah Lounge in No. Ho. If anyone else partakes in such things, feel free to cut in!
When: Evening.
Warnings: PG-13. These two are not surprisingly quite shameless and are capable of being obnoxious.

She knew him.

He'd never admit to, or be obvious about agreeing to anything that anyone ever asked for. E.v.e.r. Thus, he'd dodged her appeal to be provided a reward in honor of her becoming his neighbor. His kind of neighbor, that is. A few floors separated them, and that was technically neighbors, but only kind of.

The element of the pleasantly unexpected gem of surprise was to him one of man's last refuges of unselfish expression; one of our most valuable and prized possessions was to be unpredictable creatures, and to handsomely protect the object of our secret desires to please other's feelings. A Merlin, bone-like box at the back of a cave somewhere held the secrets to the universe on a scroll, having read them, he can state with certainty that one of them was: Always give great gifts.

Sadly, he wasn't so cloak and dagger as he could be. People who knew him, knew well his generosity. He was in fact one of the most dependably benevolent and ample creatures strolling the Earth in a black t-shirt, gray jeans, and red chucks. She may have been only kidding, but he didn't give a fuck. She asked for something pretty and he got her a very suitably elegant, yet borderline dangerous dress which was somewhat understated, but when worn by her would be (hopefully) voluptuously overdone. She could try it on later.

They drove out all the way out to North Hollywood to have themselves some hookah in a joint with dim lights, mostly blood red, and couches outside. They were surrounded by people seemingly of the same agenda. By the hints he caught of other peoples conversations here and there, it appeared the ritualistic endeavor of smoking and eating was an undeniably successful tool in chasing after memories which often times grow more and more obscure as minutes, hours, weeks, months pass with no obligation to recall them...

"What's weird," he'd said, skimming the minty tobacco menu. "Is that I kinda feel like I'm supposed to be here. You feel me? In the building, that is." he tapped spearmint. "I want that, unless you want some girly fruit flavor."

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king_of_gods
2010-08-06 08:12 pm UTC (link)

"She should be, it's business. We haven't discussed the being together shit. I do love her. I am capable of love contrary to popular belief. I have love for everyone in my life, I even love you. I also believe it doesn't make me any less of who I am, or anyone any less of what they are to me, for me to be who I am, and do what I want. I live life with passion and a sense of urgency. I pursue happiness, and I'm pleased with very little."

That admission was sent into the air between them to linger like the billowing, uncoiling smoke that unrolled like a gray kitten from its slumber and tumbled down the slopes of the reddened, dim illumination that painted everything amorously and a little wicked, spread upon the couch. A kinked tongue wet the corner of his mouth, where perceived was left a lick of vodka, and he overlooked the hose with his fingers until it was stole gently. Long ago he'd unlocked the little fingers that had been fixed in his, so as to both secure his drink and prepare for his turns on the spearmint. Drumming it a moment with a chamfered brow, the shape of the furrow softened in recalling an appropriate quote to share, once again.

"And clearly, fortune favors the brave. My dad just thought a partner would be good for me. But enough for now. Your turn."

Smoke brought in, fulfilled the chasm of his rising chest and stayed a while, he wondered how he was going to mend all of his transgressions, ah, worry on that later, he'd thought. Until it as before, that gray ribbon released from his lips poured out, and grinned at her in the dark.

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philommeides
2010-08-07 05:45 am UTC (link)

"My turn?" she asked, leaning to sit up on the couch, reaching for her cocktail, brushing her hair back from her shoulder, one of the slim straps of her dress slipping a bit.

"Things have been going well," she said. "Moving in's been easy, I'm having fun decorating the space, I have my usual team of datables in regular rotation," she grinned at him, shifting to the edge of the couch to have a better look at him. Unfortunately, just then, a burly, surly sort of guy brushed past, sliding deliberately along her leg, the motion pushing the hem of her dress higher than she would have preferred.

"Excuse me," she said mildly, her brow arched. The guy was already looking at her - from a vantage point that made her suspect he was actually looking down her dress. Her expression took on a vaguely disgusted look, and she shifted back on the couch to make it more difficult for him to see her cleavage.

"Hey there," he said, all shoulders and repulsive arrogance as he ambled closer to her again, ignoring Vince entirely. "What's your name, baby?"

Lia recoiled from the man, visibly disgusted.

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king_of_gods
2010-08-07 06:27 am UTC (link)

The descending line, a failing feature of her article of clothing, the one that looped rebelliously over her shoulder, was caught and addressed by the thoughtful approach of a one, single finger which righted it evenly and back up where it belonged. It was bait and he tackled it. Seeing to it that it got back to staying over where smooth shadows fled into collar bones, he listened attentively as good friends do, even as she scooted farther so that their study of each others words could be met with features instead of only the sound and sight of smoke fleeing their throats.

And then his relaxing situation was interrupted by a fucking idiot.

Nostrils flared, ego boosted, chest puffed out proudly. ~~Zeus~~ Vince leaned forward with a grin that could sear the garden of Eden. The gleam to his eye, painted a reddish milky white by the lighting surrounding them, was somehow both a mixture of merciless and mad.

"Hey there." he imitated the man's introduction, waving in a mockery of friendliness. "I know it's really fun to intercept people's good times like a completely ignorant, arrogant fucking douchebag, and hit on the woman that another man seems to be having a good time with in some fucking idiotic-sad display of bravado and dumbassery, but if you could fuck off before I shove this hookah up your ass, your ass might thank you for it later. Fair warning."

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philommeides
2010-08-07 03:24 pm UTC (link)

Lia had suspected something like this might happen as soon as the stranger had approached. It wasn't that she was necessarily irascible about etiquette, though she did think there was a certain way people should talk to each other -- especially a gentleman who wanted to court a lady, or even a guy who wanted to talk to a girl. But once you brought another guy into the mix, things got complicated.

There was nothing sexual between her and Vince, it was true (putting aside those occasions when they were in the mood and felt like making out like a pair of impossibly skilled teenagers). Even so, not only was it extraordinarily poor form to approach a woman who was obviously enjoying the company of another man, it was kind of asking for the kinds of threats that Vince was currently making. Especially if Vince was the man in question.

Lia sensed the satisfaction in the guy - she looked up at him and realized that (as much as she might have liked to think so) this little altercation wasn't about her. It was about Vince; probably his unjustly good looks, his impeccable style, his obvious wealth. Not that Lia was one to sell herself short, but in this case, she was just the easiest and most obvious bait.

That, in itself, was irritating, nevermind the interruption of a perfectly pleasant evening. Even so, she slid further back into the couch, watching carefully. He was a big guy, but clearly drunk - and she'd observed in the past that Vince was more than capable of handling himself. Her main concern was that they didn't knock over the hookah, or the drinks, and that she didn't end up with a bruise or other injury in the process.

For his part, the burly drunk sneered at Vince, saying, "Yeah, go fuck yourself, fag. I just thought this little kitten might wanna break from talking about shoes or whatever the fuck with you."

With that, he put his hand on Lia's shoulder, sliding the strap off of it again.

He smirked drunkenly. Lia's jaw dropped, stunned for a moment that he had actually had the balls to touch her to prove his stupid, dick waving point.

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king_of_gods
2010-08-08 12:39 am UTC (link)

Looked like Paul was probably going to have to pick him up from jail later on.

"I don't talk about shoes." Moistening his lips, rolling his neck and shoulders back to set them straight and smooth his spine, his mouth parched and his throat throbbed with anger. Somehow, the air became a little more dry around them, commingled as it was with mint, smoke, and cavalier imbeciles. A little more crisp and trickling with a barely distinguishable static...

Vince reached forward swiftly, grabbing (as tenderly as possible.) the wrist of his dearly valued and adored, trouble and douche bag magneting chum, and guided her sweetness and softness with just enough force to wrangle her out of his way from the drunken, death wishing man who spoke so carelessly, and deposited her gently into the seat in which he once sat in, from where he now stood up at his full height.

"I talk about money." he'd announced, oh so arrogantly, oh so haughtily and dripping with a complex of superiority, a hand reaching behind him toward the live cinder that still burned with an orange incandescence. While he, as often men do, proceeded closer with just his chest to intimidate him.

On second thought ...

Retreating his hand, he assembled a better plan that would be much more amusing. There was a table directly behind him practically screaming this guys name, should he even make one move to put hands on Lia, or him. Imagine where his hands have been, Vince thought, somehow able to stir his hygienic, prissy concerns even in an event like this. Not for himself, but for her. He didn't mind getting dirty.

"Since I make it, mother fucker."

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philommeides
2010-08-08 11:18 pm UTC (link)

Lia moved willingly and fluidly to where Vince placed her. There were girls who would have gotten up into the mix; there were girls who would have stood up to the offending male themselves. Lia might have been one of those girls, in certain scenarios. But it was pretty clear, in this case, that the man was spoiling for a fight, and while it was probably still possible to talk both parties down from an altercation, Lia didn't see much reason for it. The guy was being an asshole, and Vince wasn't showing any signs of reluctance to fight. Given all that, she crossed her legs, looking up at the two men from her new place, no longer between them.

The man, for his part, sneered at Vince, and shifted his posture just as Vince did - more obviously - stepping forward into Vince's face, cheap whiskey on his breath and aggression oozing from his pores. He wasn't prepared - whether because of intoxication or a simple lack of willingness or ability - to articulate the bitterness and disillusionment that prompted his verbal assault, and Vince's words gave him plenty of reason to get into it without having to talk about anything else. "Mother fucker?" He said. "Who the fuck are you callin' mother fucker, mother fucker?"

With that, he shoved at Vince - hard.

Apparently unfazed (she had, after all, known many men over the course of her life, including her brother and innumerable cousins who always seemed to be getting into fights over all sorts of trivialities), Lia shifted back in her seat, simply moving further out of the range of the action.

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king_of_gods
2010-08-09 02:30 am UTC (link)

It was not the weasel who runs errands for the moon captured within his capacious and boastful heart, who so desperately sought to air his fortunes to the overhanging stars that laughed, and eavesdropped, taciturn and quaint, no. Vince knew exactly what saying a careless, mean-spirited thing like that caused within the trodden soul of a hard-worked, disfigured mien of a man. He knew acting arrogant and recanting his victories over the minimal distance of his foe would incite fury, and it was precisely what he wanted. Why? Because now it was self defense.

The shove however, was a surprise. As welcomed as it was. It took a few seconds of steadying the topsy of the turve that Billy Badass had sent spinning, perhaps a more wayward sort of funny looking trot backwards to avoid spilling the drinks, but unfortunately, he was unable to excuse the prized, precious hookah from becoming a victim of his reach and stumble. However brief it was. It fell, cinders like orange glitter being tapped off of construction paper, in a fiery string.

And before Johnny Jerkoff could properly compose his own chuckling accolades and bask in his supposed early Christmas, Vince was on him like white on rice on a paper plate in a snow storm. In fact, it didn't take the blink of an eye, or the rupturing flash of lightning to get the smile out of the corner of the assholes mouth. It took Vince returning the shove with much more force, with much more might and concern, of course fueled by the adrenaline that surges after the first blow. And watching him fall back into the wooden table with a smug, angry delight, hookah, food, and drinks of the party once right next to them being his new resting place. The people once sitting there had intelligently moved on by then.

"We're going." He'd said to Lia, without turning around.

... did he hear sirens?

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philommeides
2010-08-11 01:09 am UTC (link)

Lia's youth hadn't been misspent, but it certainly had been versatile - so she didn't have to be told twice. In an instant, she was on her feet, maneuvering around the impromptu battle ground with more skill than was likely fair. Reaching into her purse, she withdrew a fifty and put it on the table in apology. It wouldn't cover all the damage, but it was definitely more than their drinks and tobacco. With that, she followed Vince, stepping over their uninvited guest, possibly digging a sharp stiletto into his calf on her way out.

Without so much as a glance behind them, she came up to Vince and took a look at him as they walked. "Nicely done, Vincent Alexander," she told him, looping her arm through his. "Thanks for defending my honor," she told him with a little smile.

Unfortunately, the man wasn't put down quite so easily. Even as they walked away from him, he lumbered to his feet, shook his head, and took off after them, launching himself at Vince even as his arm was wrapped around Lia's waist.

For her part, it was, perhaps, a miracle (or perhaps thanks to years of yoga and dance) that she managed to stay on her feet - beside wearing stilettos of an impressive height, she'd had a number of drinks before they'd come out to the bar, and so was well into territory where balance was not to be taken for granted.

Fortunately, she did manage to stay on her feet, and even to kick out at their assailant, catching him in the back of the leg before he reached out and shoved her down to the pavement, scraping her palms, the insides of her forearms, and her elbows.

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king_of_gods
2010-08-11 01:48 am UTC (link)

Looping an arm around the circle of her waist, he pulled her toward him just the right mixture of forceful and sweet, to press a kiss against the top of her head. "Always." said he, the grin etched with a perfectly arched geometry as if a design toiled over for hours by a Greek sculptor.

The property was damaged, he knew this. He knew the employees weren't pleased, the people who had been watching weren't pleased, the idiot that had started the whole thing wasn't pleased; though inwardly, Vince was laughing hysterically at his embarrassing descent into the table of assorted, staining, crashing wonders. Still, they went on their way. Unspoken, but exiled.

.... but.

Before they could properly flee via the V!Mobile, Professor Cockblock had to make one last vainglorious attempt to sweep up the remains of his dignity, and perhaps gather the few remaining shards of his pride and glue them back together by assailing someone with their back turned, now didn't he?

Managing to stay on his feet as well thankfully, though for different and various reasons entirely (most of which were merely to keep her walled from harm.), he felt the instant, warm shame dribble all over his senses at seeing Lia, graceful creature, fallen onto a filthy pavement unbecoming of her flesh and bijou mien. Oh, to say his rage swelled like a bright red balloon would be like saying the deluge that they described in the bible, which overcame the world, was a sobbing rhythmic flood. His rage at that moment was insurmountable, indescribable, and uncuttable. Red filled his vision and logic fled.

Vince had spun around after steadying his failing steps and grappled with Doctor Fuckface. There were definitely a few good blows from both parties, but Vince's face was not meant to be punched too many times. It was far too handsome. He had got Jimmy Jackass so abundant in a headlock eventually, that his face looked as purple as Barney's after guzzling a cheap fuzzy naval. There were the audible gnashing of his teeth, the obligatory threats of murder, and underneath it all as they finally reached the ground, the distant sound of sirens closing in.

Which inevitably, lead to the flashing of reds and blues.

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philommeides
2010-08-11 02:34 am UTC (link)

Lia hadn't felt the sting of skinned elbows, much less arms and hands, since she was too small for it to have mattered; a childhood spent among myriad cousins, wandering the boroughs, playing stick ball or handball or ring and run or manhunt even when she might rather have been playing Barbies.

She'd been flexible, even back then.

There was pain, definitely, but also the humiliation of a graceless tumble; she prided herself on not being one of those girls, who drank too much and ended up on their asses, one way or the other.

(Well, maybe occasionally one way, but definitely not the other.)

As she rose to her feet, her dress having somehow survived, her shoes miraculously unscuffed, it was tempting to kick their attacker squarely where it counted - but police presence was upon them, and the last thing she needed was her name in the news with an assault and battery charge. Before she could catch the officers, though, they were already on the scene, corralling her out of the way even as she tried to explain, and closing in on Vince and the ass who'd started it all.

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king_of_gods
2010-08-11 02:51 am UTC (link)

The two were pried apart as forcefully as the police could manage without being brutal, but, both mutually regarding the fact that they were being dislodged by the law, were for the most part cooperative. Vince, seemingly the aggressor, was not the initiator, and he raised his hands above his head to show that he wasn't going to resist, even as they cuffed him on the ground. He hadn't felt the cold, grinding affect of cement in quite sometime. It was thankfully not enough to scuff him.

The other man was shouting about how Vince started it, but he was only making himself look bad, obviously drunk, and while being cuffed slightly resisting.

Vince knew to keep his mouth shut.

"Is the girl okay?" he'd asked the officer, a swift response gave him a 'lookslikeit.' Vince was also smart enough to be aware that inquiring such a thing, would demonstrate that this entire might have been a defense in her honor.

Well, looked like Paul was going to have to be called after all. Because Lia was probably in no shape to drive his car back to his place.

When in Rome...

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philommeides
2010-08-11 03:03 am UTC (link)

"Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital to have that looked at, ma'am?" the really very charming officer she was talking to asked.

"No, thank you, Officer Jones. That's very sweet. But if you could give me a ride to the station so I can explain the situation, or make whatever arrangements need to be made for Vincent, I'd really appreciate it."

Officer Jones hesitated for a moment, then looked at his partner, who seemed, suddenly, to be in a generous mood. Uncuffed and politely handled, they put her into the back of their cruiser, while the other two officers took Vincent and the miscreant in the back of theirs. As they sped toward the station, Lia was already dialing Paul's number...

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