InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Winsause?"

Ariana (Maguire) Veilleux || Maman Brigitte (madamdeath) wrote in paxletalelogs,
@ 2011-10-15 23:57:00

Entry tags:

baron samedi, maman brigitte

there's a bend in the wind
Who: Ariana and Julian
What: She moved out of their home in an attempt to put the past behind her, but it looks like ~ fate ~ has other plans.
Where: Hallway of the fourth floor at Pax
When: Backdated to October 13th, say around 8PMish?
Warnings: Drama no doubt will ensue... probably cursing? Maybe. >.>
Notes: Can a girl just eat her ice cream in peace?

Moving here was a good thing, it was what she needed: a fresh start, and a new home that would be filled with memories that didn't reek so much of the recent past. She'd stayed too long in their old apartment, even after kicking him to the curb. Had her initial reluctance to leave been an underlying aversion to change? How funny if she were to equate it to something as ridiculous as that; things had long since changed drastically between the two of them, their earlier days--young, happy, excited to begin their lives together--nothing now but memories tainted with rust around the edges.

No, the sad truth of the matter was that she'd held out, hoping he'd notice things had gone awry, that CASKET's growing success was having the exact opposite effect on their marriage. She'd eventually avoided him outside of the club as much as he avoided her. Ariana knew she wasn't blameless when it came to their marriage falling apart, and yet Julian's final, vulgar offer to buy her shares in CASKET still left a bad taste in her mouth, made her place more blame on him than perhaps was rightfully deserved. But she refused to forget how she'd felt when his lawyer uttered those damnable words, and no amount of moving into a new apartment would ever change that fact.

However, it was nice, in a way, having a place completely to herself minus the extra baggage--literal and otherwise. Julian preferred to buy extra things that served little to no purpose other than to clutter up their living room, or even the bedroom. In stark contrast at her new home, Ariana had decorated sparingly in the main rooms, putting aside in a closet the few boxes left to unpack. Those last boxes contained items which triggered far too many happier memories, and she was not about to upset herself this evening by looking through old photo albums and the such.

Her footsteps were light along the carpeted walkway as she approached her front door, the only other sound being the rustling of the plastic bags she held. Tonight she'd picked up a few edible essentials, although she would have to do more extensive grocery shopping in the morning. (One of these 'essentials' was an infrequent splurge that'd be enjoyable nonetheless: a pint of strawberry ice cream to thoroughly enjoy while watching a good flick.) Ariana set down all four of her grocery bags, freeing her hands so she could dig through her purse for the apartment key.

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baronsamedi
2011-10-16 06:59 pm UTC (link)

In the middle of wondering for the umpteenth time why he didn't just sleep in his office at CASKET, instead of throwing away money on this apartment, as he pulled closed the door on his living space. Of course, it wasn't like he couldn't afford it and though his office was nice, there certainly wasn't space for a bed. As much as he loved his club and the people who patronized it, there was still some call for an away retreat, even if it was only for a few hours each week. Not to mention it got him out of the club every once in awhile, met some interesting new people that would give him more connections. Everything had a purpose, even if one wasn't aware of it yet.

Keys jingled in his hand as he slid closed the lock, ensuring that all of his collected knick-knacks that were there for comfort's sake were safe. Ariana had often lamented his need to fill every space with something, but he'd always managed to convince her of its need, even if simply she'd agree to keeping it though she wouldn't believe in its value. Maybe that was one thing he could like, having his own space again. When he was young, he'd shared a room with his brothers - growing up had taken him out of the nest (albeit not in a fashion most would desire, what with his father essentially expelling him from the family home) and almost immediately living with Ariana shortly after they had met and married. Very rarely Julian had ever lived alone, or really ever been alone, making the apartment space seem too big and too empty for him to really enjoy it.

Perhaps that was one thing that drove him back to the club over and over again, the comfort of noise and the presence of others, even if he wasn't always immediately mingling with them. His keys were slipped back into his trouser pocket, and he glanced to the side to see a tall, attractive looking blond going through her purse, the floor scattered with bags. The image reminded him of his wife - in fact, that purse looked like something she would own - but he batted the image away. Ariana had been very clear about having him out of the apartment, and there was little reason why she'd move here, of all places. Julian had found plenty of female companionship in the Pax Letale apartment building, and now it looked like such a thing was moving into his own floor. Never one to be shy, and hoping that perhaps this newcomers introduction would help wave away the thoughts in his mind, Julian approached the woman.

"Hey, newcomer to the building? It's nice to see they're upping the standard for tenants around here, I was needing a better reason to hang around my apartment-" The line dropped as the outline of the woman's face became all too clear. His words dried up in his throat, face registering complete and utter shock. Her, of all people. Of all places, here. Was this some kind of cosmic joke, that since he had begun feeling that strange sense of guilt, all of a sudden he was going to be punished with her actually being on the same goddamn floor of his apartment building?!

"Ari?!"

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madamdeath
2011-10-16 08:08 pm UTC (link)

Having found the key, she mentally made a note to clean out her purse later. With the stress of moving and the divorce always hanging around her like a personal black rain cloud, a simple thing like that had somehow slipped her mind. There was no telling how many receipts were in there by now. It was a mess she would have to remedy.

At the sound of an all too familiar voice, she dropped what she'd been searching for right back into that particular mess. It had to be a coincidence. It was merely one of her neighbors, trying to introduce himself in a manner that boasted of self assurance. She'd politely decline a little hallway chitchat, given she wasn't sure she felt up to company tonight. And her ice cream would probably melt in the middle of the conversation, anyway. That wouldn't do.

A quick glance upwards to at least say hello to her fellow fourth floor inhabitant, and Ariana's neatly planned out refusal was instantly forgotten.

Why was he here? No doubt the look of shock on her face was a mirrored image of the one on his. This could not be happening. He was always busy with his club, always, and he might as well have slept in the office. What was the use in him trying to put down roots elsewhere? Her thoughts were tainted by bitterness and she did her best to compose herself. His pick up line was now an aggravation rather than a simple introduction, her old nickname a thorn pricking at her sensibilities. How dare he call her that when he no longer had any right to do so.

Ariana was not a woman who believed in fate. Definitely not. Fate was not to blame for choosing a new home that unfortunately housed her husband as well. Correction, her soon to be ex husband. This was a cruel coincidence, nothing more.

Finding her voice, she didn't even have to try and keep the distaste from her tone. It was there automatically, though now peppered with a faint hesitancy, the shock not fully devoid from her system. She might as well have been stuck in an over-dramatic episode of Days Of Our Lives, a guilty pleasure of her mother's. Ariana found it unrealistic at best.

Unfortunately, this was realistic.

"Julian. What are you doing here?" She was still shaken and the obvious question was impulsive and more than a touch ridiculous--though no less than this entire situation. Trying on a frown (not too hard of a thing to do), she was suddenly glad she'd worn her hair pulled back tonight. Let him fully see the displeasure on her face. Maybe he'd focus on that instead of how she was trying very hard to not appear rattled. "And don't tell me you use lines like that on every woman who moves in on your floor. It's hardly enticing."

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baronsamedi
2011-10-16 08:51 pm UTC (link)

"No, just you, sugarbun," he replied, the sarcasm rolling off of his tongue in a heavy dosage. Not even five seconds in the same hallway and they were immediately almost at each other's throats. There had been a very, very good reason for their breaking up their living arrangement, which was becoming very evident very quickly. The shock on his face dissipated, leaving behind a faint frown that was tempered with a slight, apologetic look that he was doing his best to hide behind the unfriendly words.

If this was destiny's way of saying kiss and make up, Julian was ready to flip it the bird. How was he supposed to concentrate on his work when Ariana had been acting so clingy and demanding? He took a physical step backward, putting some much needed distance between them, as though a cushion of air would provide a sufficient wall to block the incoming barbs and taunts that would inevitably evolve.

Hands moved away from his pockets, fallen still by his sides as he kept his posture straight, thinking quickly of how to circumvent this situation from blowing out of proportion. The easiest would simply be to walk away, make some excuse (like always, huh, Julian?) in order to be on his way to the club and his duties (priorities, you've certainly got them). The voice in the back of his mind was continuing to be infuriating, inflating his guilt to disproportionate sizes, especially with Ariana now wholly in the picture.

"And I live here. What, did the landlord kick you out because you wouldn't stop nitpicking about the wallpaper?" And there it went; instead of being calm, cool, and collected, the insults were begun, and Julian mentally smacked himself. At least it was better than the stalker comment that had been lurking on the tip of his tongue - after all, just how big of a coincidence would it be for her to show up not only in the same apartment building, but on the same floor? Far too big, and therefore unlikely. Julian wouldn't believe it if someone offered him a million dollars.

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madamdeath
2011-10-16 11:28 pm UTC (link)

"Oh, what an honor to be a recipient of your charm." The words tumbled out of her mouth like audible venom, a quick, though petty, jab. She should have been above letting his childish remarks bother her by now. The countless times they'd fought came rushing back to her, unpleasant and unwanted memories. None of their bigger fights had ever ended well, and this one didn't look like it would either, as was clearly evident. Already they had come to blows. Suddenly, living at Pax didn't seem like a great idea anymore. Not when her neighbor living down the hall was Julian.

Ariana steeled herself, lips set in a firm line. She'd been the one to hand his ass to him during their very last fight. She would damn well do it again if she had to--only now it was far more complicated, wasn't it? There was nothing to do but manage this as best as she could, though she loathed the idea of coming home each night, knowing his apartment was a mere short walk away from hers. No doubt it was filled to the ceiling with nothing but junk. He'd been sure to take all of his belongings when she kicked him out, and there was no way he would part with them.

But he'd parted from her easily enough, hadn't he? Ariana's hand curled tighter around the strap of her purse, a physical response from the unwelcome thought. Julian backed away, and she wondered how long it would take him to turn tail in order to save himself. Not very long, if things didn't fast change. She knew it would happen, in fact, she was waiting expectantly for it. Julian obviously hadn't changed much since the last time she'd seen him, which wasn't a surprise. Quick with the sarcastic quips, and even quicker to run away when things turned bad for him. It was only a matter of time.

She should have turned away, found her key again, and went quickly inside her apartment. But his little nitpicking comment eased its way under her metaphorical skin, irking her, causing her temper to quickly flair. Not even five minutes and already he'd reduced her to this. Of course, she wouldn't tell him the real reason why she had moved, for what would he care?

"Hardly. The only one that was kicked out of the apartment was you. Don't you remember?" The corners of her mouth quirked upwards slightly, a faint, dark sense of amusement that admittedly she did not completely feel. Ariana wanted to rant at him, to rave, to demand all the whys and whats. She wanted to see if she could get her deposit back on the morrow. But these were foolish, hotheaded desires that had been brought on by the moment. Ariana had every right to live at Pax, and, quite unfortunately for her, by all means Julian did, too.

She'd have to handle this like a grown, mature woman. A grown, mature woman who, quite frankly, was not all right with her excuse for a husband belittling her at her new place of residence. Now she felt the dark humor in the tight smile she held.

"I wonder, Julian," Ariana stated, her voice light, "if you actually do live here. Tell me you're not still napping in your office. The apartment's only used as a showcase for your junk, isn't it?"

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baronsamedi
2011-10-16 11:46 pm UTC (link)

The expected barbs still hit close to home, and their sting was as fresh as the first arguments they'd shared over much more miniscule objections. His teeth gritted behind closed lips, any attempts made to school his face cracking around the edges. Of course she knew exactly where to hit, where the fractures would be that she could wedge into and enlarge for the most damage possible. They both knew how to wound one another - if there was one thing they'd gotten out of their marriage, it had been all the weaknesses and ways they would need to amplify their fights to the umpteenth degree.

"You didn't kick me out, I left," he muttered under his breath, once more attempting to convince himself rather than anyone else. The space had become stifling, and even when they hardly saw one another because Julian was working himself to death at the club, they still found moments to clash horns, increasing the hostility exponentially every time they had crossed paths. Julian had simply been at a loss to understand why Ariana had started acting in such a fashion - sure, maybe he'd forgotten a date here or there, but he'd always made up for it afterward. Why couldn't she comprehend that the business was like a baby, that it needed constant attention? For awhile she had seemed perfectly aware of the fact that he was dedicated to the club, and then everything had turned on its head.

And there it was, the inevitable remark about CASKET. It was like bringing 'the other woman' into the conversation, and Julian felt his hackles rise as anger immediately stamped out the guilt that had invaded his mind over the past week. He'd known from the start that the guilt was uncalled for, that filing for divorce had been the right action. It had been so long since he'd felt the emotions that had caused him to spontaneously get down on one knee with a ridiculously priced ring and convince Ariana to spend the rest of her life with him. It had felt so right back then, like nothing would come between them - but of course, despite everything he had done for her, she'd found one thing to nitpick and agonize over in order to destroy their relationship.

"Maybe I am. Wouldn't that reassure you that we'd see less of each other? Although I know you must be missing me since you always had such trouble establishing a social life around here," he shot back, the snide reminder of how he'd played such a huge role in her life in California. Everyone she'd met, friends or colleagues or otherwise, had been through him; that he'd given her a reason to stay, a dream to work toward (nevermind that it had been his dream, she'd seemed excited about it to begin with), and had included her in every part of his life up until she had suddenly changed without preempt. The idea that all of the blame rested squarely on her shoulders justified every word that would come rolling out of his mouth, no matter how harsh it might be.

Maybe he had spent a lot of time at CASKET, but it was his homegrown business; maybe all that concentration at work had caused him to forget a few things, but what did they matter in the larger scheme? Couldn't she be a big girl and get over it, act like the mature woman she was always claiming to be? Julian hooked one hand through the belt loops on his pants, falling easily into a slouch. Of course, for the moment the ball was in Ariana's court, but he well remembered their last encounter - should things prove too hot for him, the elevator was always waiting at the end of the hall, right behind where his estranged wife was standing.

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madamdeath
2011-10-17 02:13 am UTC (link)

Her brows furrowed in disapproval. The hallway might have been quiet save for their bickering, but she didn't need near silence to know what he had told himself, what he probably had been telling himself for some time. Was it pride that made him deny the truth? It had to be, for even if she despised him at this moment, she knew he was more than intelligent enough to comprehend who had kicked who out of their apartment. She certainly hadn't been the one packing up all her belongings and leaving as soon as possible. Ariana loosened the grip she had on her purse's strap, watching the less than subtle changes on Julian's face. It was unsurprising, as was the way he reacted. CASKET was everything to Julian. Any slight offensive remark made about the club would send him into a hissy fit, as was clearly happening now.

In theory, there was nothing wrong with him being protective about the club. It was, after all, his life's work. But she'd been there next to him since it had been nothing but a pipe dream (thusly making it their life's work), and she'd keep reminding him of this lest he forget, as he seemed wont to do in their later years together. Was it merely him spending more time at the club than with her which drove her thoughts down this path, as it had driven her to feel hostile towards the dream she'd help make a reality?

Julian's words might as well have been a knife in her back. Her expression hardened and she was glad of it, because what he said stung like hell, and she refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her appear weak. Ariana's hand curled tightly around her purse strap again, as if to use the mistreated strap like an anchor, keeping her grounded so she didn't lose control. He would never fail to wield that particular ammo against her, would he? Julian was forever the charming socialite, even when she first met him. What had she been when she moved to California but a plain Montana ranch girl, trying her damnedest to make it in the big city? It was true that she didn't have a huge network of friends in the beginning, even after becoming properly situated. Still, she was content.

And then she'd met Julian, and she'd known what it felt like to let herself fall in love--love, an expression that had no place in this current debacle. It was no exaggeration to say that everything in her life had changed. Everything except her unwillingness to take Julian's insults laying down.

"You're dead wrong if you think I need you around to meet people. Don't pat yourself on the back too much, Julian. Unlike everyone else, I don't think you're the be all and end all when it comes to networking." She forced herself not to snarl like a cornered tigress. Some form of composure was necessary. Ariana refused to move, refused to budge in more ways than one. Her feet remained planted firmly in place. The hand not holding onto her purse strap for dear sanity dropped to her side, clenched in a fist that betrayed her true feelings. "But don't let me stand in the way of the masses who believe such a lie. Sooner or later maybe some of them will get a clue and realize you're only using them to do your dirty work."

Maybe that last bit was a little much, but it was too late now.

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baronsamedi
2011-10-17 02:47 am UTC (link)

Slights to his person Julian could generally handle with little issue - but he was proud of his abilities with people (women, business, otherwise) and to hear her phrase it in such a manner only stoked his anger all the more. But that was what they were going for in one another, picking at the scars and refreshing the hurt because that was all that was left of their relationship. When was the last time they'd been in each other's presence and had a civil conversation? Not within recent years, that much Julian knew. He took in a deep sigh, one hand rising to knead the bridge of his nose and then his eyes as though he were dealing with a difficult child. Which, at times, was what Ariana felt like; and he didn't want to be married to a child, he wanted the woman he had fallen for. He had no idea what had happened to her, and he was too busy to track her down. Instead it had been far simpler to push Ariana away, and then eventually follow that up with the divorce. More and more it seemed like a good idea.

And that train of thought brought back that little inkling, the little notion in the back of his mind that he had made the wrong move. That, instead of making things work for them, he had made things work for him - which, in his mind, was the usual, and thus not an unnatural course of action. Throughout all of his life he had never quite had to make things go his way, it had always been the case that he came out on top almost eighty percent of the time. The idea that he might have to work, to maintain his relationship with his wife was foreign; they were both adults, and quite frankly, if she loved him she would understand that he had responsibilities. It wasn't always technically work in running the club, though sometimes he did have to go that extra mile (but he managed to make that happen not so often) - to have to do that for another person was so tiring.

"Is that what you think? That I used you and then threw you away?" The emotion came through his voice, the tired nature of the conversation resounding in the cadence of his words. His hand fell back down to his side, both now hanging loosely as he continued to allow his important time to be swallowed up by her. Of course, had he known that she was moving in next door, undoubtedly he would have figured out a way to avoid this kind of confrontation, but such planning was too little too late. His lips pursed in a sour manner, the entire expression of his face matching her own for disapproval. There had been a time when he'd enjoyed the fact that she refused to be anything but an equal; it had thrilled him, that while he could still apparently capture her with his usual wining and dining ways, she managed to stay on a level edge with him, proving herself every bit just as capable as he. Slowly that seemed to turn into nitpicking and demanding ways; yet again, the thought that perhaps Julian was simply seeing her in a different light had never occurred to him, but if he were to manage a long, hard consideration of his feelings toward Ariana, he might find such a thing to be true. For the moment, however, he just found her annoying.

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baronsamedi
2011-10-17 02:48 am UTC (link)

"Someone's getting bitter in their old age. Look, I need to get to work, I wasn't looking to butt heads with you right here, right now. Since we're living on the same floor, I'm sure that will happen often enough," he continued, his voice picking up an amused lilt that showed he wasn't at all happy about the arrangement, "so how about I get out of your hair and you put your claws away, all right? If you're absolutely dying for a fight later I'm sure we can pick up right where we left off. The part where I left the apartment, because you wanted your space." The words were as level headed as he could manage - sometimes he felt like they could be locked in a fight for hours, slinging words at one another with no problem because they had endless amounts of ammunition. At times, Julian had to wonder what had brought them together so quickly, and if that same thing was causing them to fall apart in a similar manner. There had always been a sense of familiarity with Ari, not so much that they just 'clicked' but that they knew each other inside and out and had known each other for a long, long time. Like they were old souls or some other New Age terminology that Julian couldn't really be bothered to discover. Right now, though, he didn't feel any of that pull - instead he felt like they were opposing magnetic poles, and he couldn't wait to get away from her, if only to clear his head of the rivaling emotions of guilt and anger.

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madamdeath
2011-10-17 04:07 am UTC (link)

She faltered for a moment--just a moment, nothing more. If he noticed, she was past caring. Julian was observant enough, and yet still he managed to miss what was under his nose, so obsessed was he with CASKET's welfare. Oh, it had infuriated her to the point of tears sometimes, receiving calls from him when she'd gone home early to get dinner ready, or prepare some other celebratory occasion. He'd cancel on her, no matter if their plans had been seemingly set in stone for a week, a month. It didn't matter to him, because CASKET always came first. Always. As much as Ariana had enjoyed CASKET finally being fully realized, she resented the club at the same time. It didn't matter that it was Julian's dream, because it had become his life.

The awful thing about it was that she wasn't the sort of woman who needed constant attention. It was ridiculous to think a man should have to cater to a woman's needs 24/7, and Ariana had not been raised with that sort of viewpoint, even though her mother harbored an ill affection for melodramatic tv sitcoms. In marriage, two lives became one, and yet each individual should still have been able to stand on their own two feet. But it shouldn't have been such a big deal to ask Julian to come home for dinner, or to not work all weekend--that's what the employees they'd hired were there for, to handle business when either of them couldn't be at the club, to keep things running smoothly.

How many anniversaries had he missed because he was busy with 'paperwork' at CASKET, or making sure that shipments were arriving punctually? Maybe they would have done better off not hiring any of their employees, for Julian had always thought he was the best to manage the club, that the floor couldn't be swept without him riding the tailcoat of whoever was doing it. God forbid there was a smudge on the counter for more than two point five seconds, for it might dissuade patrons from visiting again. (And yet he would berate Ariana for wanting to keep things neat and tidy at home, despite the amount of random knick knacks he picked up at who knows where almost every other week.)

It was a relief they'd never had any children together. They'd be as neglected as she'd grown to feel, because their daddy would have always been at work across town, too busy to see their first steps or hear their first words. Ariana remembered the disappointment her mother had expressed to her on multiple occasions--these were the results of marrying someone you barely knew, of disregarding common sense. Maybe her mother was right all along, and her father, too. But she'd had such an intense feeling in what felt like the very core of her soul when she'd met Julian. There was no other way to explain their instant connection. It was beyond words, beyond basic shallow attraction. And it was gone now, wasn't it? What had once been a wonderful, intense feeling had led to nothing but a marriage in shambles.

She did feel like he had used her to some degree, despite wishing otherwise. Julian's words made a weight drop to her stomach, as if there already wasn't one there. Ariana reminded herself not to let this show, because like hell would she break down in the middle of the hallway. He was not going to walk away from this fight thinking he had gotten one up on her, that he was right about everything. She clamped her jaw closed, refusing for once to speak up, to address his question properly. But her silence didn't last for long. Of course he'd mention work, how could he not? It obviously was the only thing that was ever on his mind, had been on his mind for years.

"You and your fucking club," she practically hissed, voice thick with frustration, hurt. "Go, enjoy your night. Take care of business. You're the man, after all." Her posture straightened, a way of trying to reassert herself in this little spat. "I didn't ask you to use one of your ridiculous pick up lines on me. You invited this fight, Julian. And for the last time," she said, struggling to control the level and tone of her voice, "you did not leave. I kicked you out and you damn well know it."

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baronsamedi
2011-10-17 04:37 am UTC (link)

It would have been terribly easy to stay there, to shoot back more vitriol, to continue the fight to the bitter dregs, but Julian had places to be. People were counting on him (And she was one of those people, wasn't she?) and there were some things that just couldn't get done without him; or at least, he didn't like not having a hand in them, because it was his name attached to the club, his reputation that rose or sank with every remark or judgment passed on CASKET. It wasn't obsession, it was careful attention to detail, the desire to make everything as close to perfection as he could humanly manage. Maybe once they'd rubbed each other raw from sheer close proximity she would finally give in to his demands and they'd be free of one another. If she hated the club so much, why didn't she just let it go? The sum he'd offered her was more than equal to her share in both the business and the building, so there was no reason to hang on like she was, nails embedded in something that simply did not belong to her.

His eyes flicked to the hand clutching the bag, holding on to the strap as though for dear life - she was still wearing her ring. The ring that he'd given her more than a decade ago, the banding in pristine condition and the diamond shining brightly. Ariana had always done her utmost to keep both herself and her surroundings in the best of presentations. It was something that he admired in her (and something that attracted him to her), that she continuously looked impeccable in all settings - even ones that involved no clothes - and next to him, they looked like a matched set. Too bad their personalities were in disagreement. Rather than being the one to lower himself to her level, though, Julian stepped around her in the direction of the elevator, giving his estranged wife enough of a berth to leave neither of them feeling uncomfortable. He paused for a moment, glancing back at the woman he'd married with careful consideration. Undoubtedly they would see little of each other, but if she was living so close to the club now, she would probably demand more use of her manager rights; want more of a say in what was going on there, how things were being run, who was being hired, and quite frankly, Julian could do without her meddling.

"I guess we'll see who runs who out of here first then, huh? See you later, honey bunny." He even went so far as to raise a hand to his mouth, placing the palm flat by his chin in order to blow Ariana a parting kiss, as though mocking what they had had. But he couldn't deny that he was shaken just a little by the fact that she was still wearing her wedding ring. They'd been living apart for the better part of a year (longer, if one were to factor in just how long he'd been staying late at CASKET) and what was more, going through divorce proceedings - Ariana was, of all things, a practical woman. There was no practical reason for her to continue wearing her ring. Out of politeness and desire to keep the proceedings in his favor, so she had nothing to use against him in court to win better rights or pay, Julian had done his best to keep his hands off of other women. He imagined that perhaps Ariana was doing the same, being smart in order to get her fair share of everything. The idea that perhaps she had other reasoning startled him, made him look over his understanding of her a second time. Then again, it could have simply been the sudden clinginess that had popped up (caused by your absence, no doubt) that was causing her to hold on to something that had died a long time ago.

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baronsamedi
2011-10-17 04:38 am UTC (link)

The elevator couldn't get up to his floor fast enough - part of him wanted to just take the stairs, but waiting there leisurely by the sliding doors gave him the appearance of someone who had nothing to lose, nothing to hide. He wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of making him run, look like a scared little man who was on the verge of a nervous breakdown because his mind couldn't stop analyzing the things he'd done, things he'd said, all in order to get his own way. His eyes watched the numbers light up above the elevator doors, descending from some high floor down to his own, and eventually dinged open with a heavenly sound that meant escape. The step inside was taken with a relaxed pace, and he turned, watching the doors slide closed over the image of Ariana standing just outside of her apartment door.

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madamdeath
2011-10-17 06:20 am UTC (link)

The only one running away from the situation was Julian, true to form. Ariana narrowed her eyes at him when he shot her another false pet name dripping with sarcasm, accompanied by a gesture that was nothing but blatant, immature childishness. He was purposefully being a living example of the old saying that men never grow up. She chose not to reward him with further negative attention, forcing herself to look away lest her glare somehow invite more of his foolish remarks. Ariana focused on uncovering once more the key that was lost within her purse. Finding it, she unlocked her apartment door and slipped it into her jeans pocket, resolving to not have to dig through all the receipts again in the morning.

Her groceries had been forgotten during their impromptu feud, and Ariana swore under her breath as she gathered together the bags and brought them into the apartment, pausing to nudge the door closed with her shoulder. She remembered too late that she'd bought ice cream for herself as a special treat, and upon checking it in the kitchen, was disappointed--but not surprised--that it was now a gooey mess. Frowning, she placed the pint container in the freezer for another night, then dutifully put away the rest of her groceries.

She could never have anticipated running into Julian here. Him in the same building as her was a long shot by far, but to make matters worse, they were living on the same floor. It mattered not that he would rarely be around, for even the thought of him being this close perturbed her, given their circumstances. Letting loose a sigh, Ariana pulled at the hairband she wore, removing it and freeing her hair. A trip to the living room, a few clicks of the tv remote, and she was soon watching an old re-run of The Jeffersons on Nick At Nite, too conflicted right now to do anything else. With morning her resolve would return, and she'd push onward, taking care of errands and the such.

This was her home, too, and like hell would Ariana allow herself to be shaken up enough to move out when she was still getting situated. That would solve nothing.

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