the light catches the eye but shadows have (moretosay) wrote in summerview, @ 2019-02-18 10:20:00 |
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Entry tags: | briar maeve naga, complete, julius fírinne, player: alice, player: lyddia |
Sip it slowly and pay attention
Maeve had a bad feeling about this dinner thing with Danny. It meant she was going more heavily armed than normal, and that she wanted a drink beforehand, and since she had already tossed out the idea of trying Julius’s Holiday one, why not kill two birds? That, and she wanted to keep him updated on this whole thing, since she was largely doing it to get Xi’s trust and therefore, Laine’s.
In a roundabout way. But that was no surprise when Xi was involved. If Danny tried anything though — well, either she’d get eaten and would be incapable of giving a shit anymore or he’d regret it. Either way. If she kept things in public where he couldn’t shift then she had confidence in her ability to control the situation if it escalated, if he got somewhere where he could grow scales? Well. They’d cross that bridge when they came to it. Besides, she was rather curious about this job. She was going straight there from Veritas, meaning she actually drove, in her car that got used to so rarely she was always a little surprised when it started up, and mosied her way in around 5:30. Luckily, Summerview was used to people who dressed odd, which meant her slacks and black button down that looked almost like men’s formal wear wasn’t side-eyed too much when she slid up to the bar. It helped that the button down — ill fitting as it was — happened to be hidden by a deep purple peacoat that she didn’t take off when took a seat like most would. If she were being honest, with herself and anyone else (but she wasn’t), then she would admit she wasn’t here for the alcohol, but to be put at ease. Using someone as a go between who lived where she did was against a few rules she had, it was dangerous, and experience made her wary about the fact that Xi was having Danny deliver this job in person specifically. But she was curious. Not so deep down she wanted a challenge, and this had a bigger purpose. That, and she needed to make sure Danny knew where the line was now. As little as Julius cared for the “holiday”, he knew Maeve was right about it being a huge money maker for Veritas. Personally he equated the holiday with gang violence and a mob massacre in Chicago, but he supposed that’s what he got for being old. And not being of a particularly romantic bent. But, he’d put himself on the schedule anyway. They’d only call him in if he didn’t, and it turned out to be a fairly busy night already. Reservations were pretty much booked solid, but at least the bar itself wasn’t packed. He was making drinks left and right, but most everyone was seated at tables, the houseband was playing some acoustic versions of classic love songs and he had a pretty decent view of the front door. Maeve walking through it was, quite frankly, a huge surprise. While they’d joked about her testing the signature drink for the weekend, he assumed the Long Way Down would be--despite the fact that it was a no frills pub, it had a certain coziness, he supposed--similarly busy so he expected she’d be behind her own bar slinging drinks instead of walking into his. He’d let the other bartenders deal with the other orders coming in--he’d said she wasn’t allowed to harass them, after all--instead, finishing out the order he’d been working on and whipping up two perfect Thorny Hearts and setting them on the bar in front of her by the time she sat down. “I thought you’d be working.” It was nice to be right. Veritas was bustling, more than a normal week night and people were even dressed up, more than usual at least. Julius's place, like Julius himself, always seemed to be out to impress. It was a thing that she appreciated, even if it wasn't the sort of establishment she wanted to run. This decade at least. This place suited him, and so she had a certain soft spot for it. One eyebrow raised at the greeting before she drawled out, “Don't be so disappointed.” But she peered down the bar and at his employees, who were (mostly) too busy to be nosy, “I was. But I have an errand in the city.” The glass was held up in front of her face, one bright blue eye looking at him, distorted through the glass, “What are we toasting to?” She was right more often than not, but that didn’t mean he was going to admit it. Julius mimicked the raised eyebrow. “Who’s disappointed?” He certainly wasn’t. Just surprised was all. “What kind of errand could you possibly have to run on a nonsense night like this?” Frankly, he’d rather be at work than… Doing nearly anything else right now, because at least at the bar there were a few people who, unlike those paired up at the tables, disliked the day as much as he did. It made for some interesting conversations at least. Running around though. That sounded like something he wouldn’t want to do. Or worse. Going out. He lifted the other glass, chewing on the question. What to toast to indeed. “To you, for inspiring this delightful beverage and reminding me about this Oberon forsaken holiday,” he said after a moment with a smirk. Maeve only gave him a hum of knowing amusement at that, a bit pleased and surprised at once even so to have him admit in a sideways sort of way that her being there was a pleasant surprise. Not that she had expected the opposite but she was halfway hesitant to show up on this date, lest he think she had intentions, though it seemed she was safe. “It's not as bad as The Fourth. Or New Years in Hong Kong, baobei.” The endearment was dropped casually, the tease coming after in the way her eyes lit up with mischief and one corner of her lips quirking up in a lopsided grin. Mischief but no mocking. It was a delicate two-step. The answer to his question was delayed by her laughter as she raised her glass, “I have been credited with inspiring much worse, so I'll take it.” Maeve took a careful sip of the drink, seemed to consider the flavors bursting across her tongue, and gave him an approving smile before she had another drink. It was still in her hand when she nodded to him, “Well done, Julius. I'm impressed.” This time she set it back down, immediately missing the taste of his real name on her lips but realizing in the same breath she rather liked it echoing quietly in the space between them, where no one else could hear. Preferred it even. “I'm picking up a side job, for the mutual friend I share with your sister.” Her eyes had focused on her drink as she spoke but flitted back up to him as sharp as ever by the time she was done. “Well, I suppose no one has been gunned down in cold blood yet, which is always a good sign,” he said with a shrug. He couldn’t attest to how bad New Years in Hong Kong was, and most celebrations of the Fourth were more outdoors than indoors.He had a very low bar for Valentine’s Day though, clearly. “But I’ll take your word for it,” he added, lips quirking up at the term of endearment. He didn’t speak whatever language that was, but it sounded nice anyway. And the look on her face suggested it probably was. Or, maybe not, but he’d take it anyway. Julius laughed lightly into his glass. “I’m sure you have,” he said, taking a sip of his drink, waiting for her reaction with an unanticipated tension--he knew it was good, and yet… When she smiled, he relaxed a bit, becoming the picture of nonchalance. “Well, you know. I drink enough, I ought to be able to make something decent off the top of my head, right?” A mutual friend she shared with his sister? Who could possibly-- She as in Maeve, or she as in Tulip or? He chewed the inside of his lip, trying to decide how much he wanted to know or even how much she’d be willing to share. “Picking up a side job on Valentine’s Day? Sounds inconvenient,” he commented after a moment. Another easy laugh, “The night is young and so are we.” Overall, Valentines Day wasn’t the worst of the Holidays. It was good for business, she liked chocolate as much as the next person and some places used it as an excuse for grand dances that she rather enjoyed. Traffic wasn’t terrible, and most importantly, there were a lot of expensive gifts given for her to take. That, and she didn’t find it all as grating as he clearly did. Silly, sure, but not in the same way he did. At least the endearment hadn’t fallen too far off base, she rather liked that almost smile of his. The bit of tension remaining in her shoulders eased, a line up her spine still of awareness about the events to come, even if she wasn’t fully aware yet of what it would lead to. Being around him and watching him be relaxed in his environment helped, however. “Aye, I suppose if you can write about colors and textures in depth, this isn’t so far.” Because she had looked him up, no reason not to when he made it so easy. She debated on how to phrase this, after all, even if no one was obviously paying attention, they were still in public. But it couldn’t hurt too bad, right? “I agree, if I didn’t know better I’d think it was a test, or just a way to show dominance.” A genuine twitch of dissatisfaction, “Damn dragons.” One of her lips raised as if she had smelled something rotten, but it only lingered for a moment before she took another sip of her drink. “As long as no one gets blood on the booths, I guess it’s fine,” he drawled, “But I’m not holding my breath.” No, everyone looked far too amorous for a shoot out. It was still feasible that someone might get fluids of some kind on the booths, but it likely wouldn’t be blood. At worst, it had better be wine. He wasn’t sure why that was a surprise--the fact that she had actually gone out and read some of the articles--but it showed on his face in a bright smile and eyes that flicked down to watch the ice in his drink as he stirred it around. “You read some of that, huh?” It wasn’t like it was great literature or anything. Just throw away stuff about clothing and style for the better part of a decade or so. It wasn’t particularly impressive at all. Maybe he was just surprised she’d slogged through it. The look on her face accompanying her next comment pulled his own lips down a touch. “Only if they thought you had something better to do.” Maeve snorted, head turning to skim over the crowd and trying to pin down who was most likely to cause trouble or over indulge at one end of the spectrum or another. Personally she’d love to see it happen, but especially the look on his face when he found it, “Your place could use more of an edge. You have one, so why not?” Really, in retrospect, it was seeing his scars that was the beginning of his shifting in her mind from what he was to what he is now. Not because they were attractive (though they were) more what they represented. Selflessness was not one of her shining qualities. Never had been. Before she was exposed to the Supernatural world and long before that, even when she had levelled out and become less bitter and resentful, it was still not something she strived for. Yet. That smile made her want to do more to earn it, to see it again and make him feel however it was that made that genuine expression appear. For no sort of gain on her end. Dangerous. Yet, she stayed. “I did. I saved some, could be useful.” Useful was a high compliment from her, whose clothing was never chosen just because it was pretty. She also knew more about fashion, and respected it, more than she let on. What, he thought Tulip dressed and decorated so nicely on accident? His statement pulled her eyes back to him as she leaned towards him, “Did I?” The question hung there for a moment, even as it was filled with a casual sort of curiosity, before she added, “Even so, she knows I love challenges, and I need to find out more about what their plans are, make sure your sister isn’t at risk, what better way than to literally be a part of it?” “Because that, darling, is my ace of spades.” Which was true. It wasn’t like he walked about boasting about the things he’d seen and done. Didn’t talk about his scars unless someone asked. Wasn’t hiding things but wasn’t sharing unless asked, consistent in that at least. The truth was likely stranger than fiction to most people, and people saw what they wanted. So if it made people generally underestimate him not knowing he had any sort of edge, then so be it. Useful was high praise indeed and he knew it. The… whatever that expression was, faded out, replaced with a slow smirk. “I’m glad they passed muster, then.” While he didn’t always like the way she used useful when applied to herself in regards to other people and their perception of her, this he didn’t mind. Appreciated even. It was a good compliment. That question felt loaded but then again, not really. Challenging maybe. What were they exactly anyway? Were they required to celebrate this non-holiday? It didn’t seem quite like that was their thing. “Like I said, I thought you’d be working,” he said, shrugging. Having someone like Xi know her so well was also disconcerting. Made things seem a little bit dangerous for her. But he couldn’t disagree. It would be good to know these things. “I suppose,” he agreed, after a moment. “I’d rather have a better picture of what Chrys has gotten herself into.” Now that she agreed with, and saw the purpose of. Maeve was designed with being underestimated in mind, after all. It made her raise her glass to him in approval, “One of a few.” Because he really did have a few things hidden, and she was enjoying peeling them back nice and slow. It also made him a valuable partner. One of her hands reached out to pluck a rolled up cloth napkin from a few seats down, “Most things about you do.” There was a wink and a playful grin as she unwrapped the utensils, setting them carefully to the side before smoothing it out and beginning to fold it into a butterfly, “I am. If I wasn't I'd likely just be doing laundry.” Because of the few things she expected of Julius, and really, wanted of him, cliche romantic overtures was not on the list. Maeve meant what she said to Danny, 169 was a bit old for Valentines , if any age in her life was good for it. Her fingers continued their work with methodical movements as she hummed in agreement, “It probably won't be anything extreme . But even if it is, I need to stay sharp anyway.” Anything could be lost given time, hence the reason she still practiced with her weapons and silks. It was also relaxing, and one of the things she turned to when nothing else made sense. Ah but if it wasn’t a nice feeling to be agreed with for once? And complimented on top of it. Julius raised his glass to hers. “I try.” It was always better to have a card or two up your sleeve. But it was often even better to have a partner who knew what cards you were keeping hidden. He didn’t always have someone on his team—more often than not he did things alone—but it was always better when someone was. “Most?” He asked, raising an eyebrow that asked not all? He sipped at his drink, curiously watching her hands go to work. Obviously he’d meant working at the bar, but she wasn’t wrong. It was still a job, she was still working. “Sounds like a titillating evening, either way,” he drawled. “Hopefully not.” Though honestly they likely had very different ideas of what they would consider extreme. Still, it sounded comforting. Hopefully her idea of extreme versus not extreme wasn’t completely out of line with his. “I got the feeling that you always stay sharp regardless.” He’d seen her house, after all. It wasn’t like he practiced 19th century fencing skills on a regular basis anymore. Or went out of his way to get into fights—that would give his edge away, after all—but maybe she was onto something. If all this was coming down the pipe, it might not be a bad idea to shake off a little rust. That managed to get her hands to pause as she leaned forward, going so far as to drop her voice in volume as if sharing a grand secret, “I do believe you may be given to snoring on occasion, Julius.” The playfulness would surprise exactly no one, Maeve was known to enjoy a good laugh, but the warmth in her eyes she had a no control over would have drawn a second look from the observant. It was all aided by the fact that she managed to wrap his chosen name up like that was the inside joke. “I'll keep you up to date, either way.” It wasn't a magical binding promise, but surely they were at the point where there was enough trust between them he wouldn't require it to believe her — or to appreciate the unusualness of it. She finished the butterfly just as he spoke, the self satisfied smile on her face when she presented it changing to a more subdued, but bright smile. Maeve didn't beam, because they were in public, but it was a near thing at the compliment. Again, her eyes dropped as she unfolded the napkin, smoothing it out with one hand and having another sip with the other. They flitted back up to him though, something in her eyes contrasting the almost wistful tone, “Yes, well, anything of value is worth the work it takes to keep it.” The look on Julius’s face was one of mock indignation. Because obviously it wasn’t true, but the very idea! “I do not,” he shot back, rolling his eyes, but with an amused smile creeping into them as much as he tried to suppress it. “I appreciate that.” He knew she didn’t really have to do so, it wasn’t like he had a stake in the game or anything, but he worried . She was clearly doing it for him. It was… sweet. As was the expression his compliment drew out of her. He wouldn’t mind seeing that look more often. Particularly when he was the one drawing it out of her. There was a warm feeling attached to seeing her like that that he didn’t have a name for but it was pleasant and he looked forward to feeling it again sometime. “I believe we’re in agreement there.” Oh, she couldn’t resist teasing him at that, especially because as much as he seemed aghast at the concept, he was clearly amused, “How can you be so sure?” One finger, tipped with professionally short bright and shiny nail, circled the rim of her glass as she watched him. Maeve gave a nod, oddly pleased with the level of understanding and trust between them. It worked, somehow, when she didn’t expect it. It helped her finish relaxing, even if she knew it wouldn’t last. But she already felt more at ease in going back to her old line of work for a job that had more stakes than normal, a bit more on the line than just her reputation and a payout. Well, her physical safety, but that was normal. So she kept her focus on the napkin as it gradually turned into a peacock, “Everything has to happen once in a lifetime, I suppose.” Not that they hadn’t found themselves in agreement more lately, and she couldn’t maintain a straight face for long, letting out a quiet laugh aimed more at the napkin than at him as her composure broke. Julius leaned against the counter, another eye roll at her even as he continued to grin. “I feel like I might have heard it at least once before.” Just maybe. Someone along the line might have said something. But that wasn’t the point. The point was she could still get under his skin, and frankly he enjoyed it. He gave a nod as he raised his glass to his lips, a hum of agreement as he took a sip. “Only took what? A hundred forty odd years?” He asked, her laughter pulling another bright grin from him. That was more lifetime than a lot of people could expect, and a lot more chances and opportunities than anyone should get in the meantime but. Whatever. That was kind of their schtick. “Maybe they were afraid of hurting you, on account of you being a creampuff.” The teasing jab was delivered as she reached up to pluck at his sleeve, and she leaned forward a bit closer, one stray curl falling down in front of her face, though she wasn’t particularly bothered by it, “I would give you a line about you smelling as sweet as one, but somehow you always seem to taste like liqour and tobacco. Tsk, you would think seeing me stressed you out.” It was true, although there was that one time he smelled like her tobacco, and that was a very nice touch. Really though, she should probably be heading out soon, but it was hard to justify it when he was grinning at her like that. A strange feeling, because as much as Briar and her work had taken a backseat to Maeve and the Pub the last few years — work had always been a priority. The challenge, the pay, her good reputation, all enough incentive that her few attachments hadn’t caused an issue. Even Oksana saw her erratically. The hand on his sleeve was twisted in a fluid movement, fingertips grazing his before she plucked the glass from his hand to bring it to her own lips, “That’s alright. You’ve aged like wine, and those are meant to be savored slowly, aren’t they, Mister Sommelier?” It was almost difficult, to change her own easy and bright smile into a smirk and drop her voice low, tone turning more flirtatious as she handed his drink back to him, no stain to betray where her lips had been. Her hands dropped back to the bar, one last fold on the napkin before she spun it back around, “Look, it’s you.” And back to cheeky in the next breath, of course. She really loved that creampuff metaphor, didn’t she? “Ah, perhaps. Or maybe they were worried about the thorns.” Because she had said that too. The grin turned into a smirk as he shook his head, clicking his tongue in mock disapproval. “Look at you making everything about yourself.” After the first couple months--and it had been a couple months--she’d probably become one of the less stressful things in his life. But then, he also didn’t really need an excuse for drinking or smoking. They were called vices for a reason after all. Julius opened his mouth to protest, but then, he was the one behind the bar. He could make another one. And, well. Alright. It was a rather bold move, snatching his drink right out from his hand. Rude. “That might be the nicest thing you’ve said to me.” Maybe not, but it was certainly one of the better ones. He accepted the drink back with a small, amused shake of his head. And ah, there they were again. “Ha ha. Clever,” he drawled, “I’m not nearly that ostentatious.” He was the one who specifically gave her the word creampuff, he shouldn’t have tossed it out there if he didn’t want to hear it again. “Then perhaps your previous dance partners have been the ones who were too soft.” In a direct contrast to her, another bold statement that no one who overheard would properly appreciate, but she liked it that way. One didn’t spend as much time with his kind as she did without learning the joy of words meant to be peeled apart. His chastising noise earned a snort from her as she held up her now more empty than not glass, “You did name a drink after a terrible pun I made, Julius. Don’t give me so much ammunition.” Maeve came this close to laughing outright at his expression when she took his drink, she thought she’d go easy on him this time. Didn’t stop it from sparking up her eyes and crinkling the corners however, “Only if you weren’t listening, darling.” Borrowing his manner of speech for a moment before she slipped back into another, much older one, with a familiar shy but knowing smile and eyes peeking up at him from below her lashes, “But you do enjoy sticking out, don’t you, Fírinne-san?” Cream puff, he guessed, was better than being called soft all the time, so he supposed he could pick his battles more carefully. But he also could have given her better ammunition. Ah well, too late now. “Perhaps,” he replied, nodding. “Or maybe it’s less to do with them and more to do with you just liking to poke holes in everything,” he argued, but with a fond smile. It was almost what she was getting at but slightly different. “Are you sure you didn’t give me ammunition on that one? It was really too good an opportunity to pass up.” If he was going to be forced to do Valentine’s Day for the masses, at least he could do it in a way that amused him. Maybe not. But it also wasn’t as if she doled out compliments like Halloween candy either. “It’s the nicest thing you’ve said in the last twenty minutes then,” he amended. Because that at least was pretty true. The mannerisms were strange on Maeve, but the memory that accompanied them were warm. He glanced down at the glass again, another warm, fond smile tugging at his lips. “Only a little. Enough that I’m noticed by people I’d like to be noticed by.” Well. To be fair, she really didn’t have much of a refute for that. Maeve did poke holes into things, both purposefully and almost compulsively, “And you do not?” Because that was one of the things they had in common, but any sort of jab was softened by the warmth and the genuineness of her smile. Something entirely different than the generic friendly one she often wore at the pub, simple and something most people wouldn’t look beyond. Maeve finished off her drink and peered at the remnants, “I suppose if I did then it was worth it, if these are the sorts of benefits.” Because Julius did have a way of making the most of her faults and words, didn’t he? What he meant by that, exactly, Maeve wasn’t sure, but her thoughts, for once, spiraled in a positive way. It left a noticeable blush on her on her cheeks, eyes seeking out his to see what was in them for a long moment as it subsided. It made an entirely different smile slowly pull at the corners of her mouth, open, surprised and pleased all at once. Blossoming like a multi-petaled flower as the sun rose above it. But then her eyes slid to the clock behind him, and a sigh of regret came from her. The glass was set down and she reached out for his hand and brought it to her lips, kissing the top in a rather gentlemanly manner, “Alas, I must head into the city. If I have to leave the state for this job, I’ll stop by your place beforehand.”. And she very much suspected she would be. Briar had never seeked out any sort of encouragement before a job or reassurance before a job, it wouldn't be that. But it would be… important, in a way she didn't quite have a word for. She wasn’t wrong. He did poke holes in things, and what’s more, he tended to enjoy it. Particularly when it came to her because she was always so full of it. “I suppose, but then would you like me quite as much if I didn’t?” He was fairly certain the answer to that was probably not. At that, Julius laughed. “Keep making terrible puns, I’ll keep turning them into passable drinks.” It seemed appropriate, considering, to build a menu based on word play. What an incredibly Fae thing to do. “Until we open that law office, that is,” he added with a wink. What he meant was almost precisely what he’d said--just the truth, or a truth, his truth--without the intention of drawing out such a reaction from her, but it was exceedingly pleasing. A warmth emanating from the pit of his stomach bloomed into his chest, which was a completely new sensation he couldn’t remember ever having experienced before. When her eyes met his, the smile he gave her could have lit a darkened alley, falling only when she admitted she had to leave. “Right, yes. Business.” Well, he supposed he ought to be thankful for the reprieve in the monotony of Valentine’s Day. He threw back the rest of his drink and dropped both of their glasses into the bus tub under the bar with his free hand, turning the other over in hers, placing a kiss on her palm. “I’d appreciate that. Not that I’m keeping tabs on you,” he added, an eyebrow raised, “Though I would like to see you if you plan on disappearing again.” It was one of those uncommon moments where her agreement came easily, “I doubt it, but I've seen you not be difficult so rarely that it's hard to make a good judgment.” just because she agreed with him didn't mean she couldn't metaphorically elbow him again. Just a little. “I'm trying to decide if that's incentive to put a hold on the plaque order or not.” Maeve tossed out, meeting his wink with a grin and challenging eyebrow of her own. And what, exactly was she supposed to do with an expression like that? Took six lifetimes so to speak to get it and she wasn't prepared still, the way it made her heart thud painfully in her chest, a sharp intake of her breath and the derailment of her thoughts. Her own was soft and almost nostalgic when he kissed her palm, because truthfully she had half expected an eyeroll in response. “I know you're not. I trust you, Julius.” That was a dangerous thing to remind him of, perhaps but it was true, and he should at least believe her by now, “You can keep the peacock.” As if it wasn't his napkin in the first place. Her eyes lingered on him as she stepped away from the bar and pulled out her keys, one last glance behind her as she pushed open the exit. |