Dame Evie Frye (dontdie) wrote in the100, @ 2016-02-20 01:27:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log/thread, alfred, evie frye |
WHO: Alfred & Evie Frye
WHEN: Feb 19th, after Fight Club
WHERE: The Rose Tavern
WHAT: Evie is a little high on adrenaline, Fight Club and is actually drinking whiskey (!!) and making poor life decisions? Rash life decisions.
WARNING: Nothing extreme. PDA that anyone at the Rose tonight is welcome to have seen?
Evie’s unexpected invitation to the Rose had found Alfred shortly after a shower, restless and riled in the best of ways. Fight Club had been instructive, if not perfectly successful, but all in all the experience had been a valuable one. Alfred was not particularly competitive; he could hold a grudge like no one’s business against an enemy but people who were his friends got all manner of free passes, and he rejoiced in their success. Even if he had been eliminated after the first round. Following the embarrassing mistake of nearly kissing Evie at their last practice, Alfred had attempted to reconcile the memory with self-assurances that her friendship was readily valuable enough. And it was, truly - he admired her stubbornness and moral aptitude, and he wasn’t a man to disparage settling for friendship alone. Nonetheless upon reading her cheery missive on the network, he felt a small but persistent flicker of hope kindle in his chest. Maybe. Not definitely, of course, but… there was something there. And so he got dressed and headed toward the Rose, which was raucous indeed after the Fight Club. People were celebrating, arguing, commiserating, and above all ordering alcohol - including the diminutive Assassin seated at the back of the pub. With a wave, Alfred made his way through the crowd carefully before taking the seat next to her; it was close quarters and many of the chairs were already taken or being shifted around to other tables. “Congratulations again!” he said, forcing his voice louder against the din. Evie Frye didn’t drink often. Rarely at all, even. When a good fight was had and a gang war completed, or when she had something to prove, yes. Her body had a fairly good tolerance, at least, for someone who didn’t drink and was her size, thanks to the natural toxins she’d been force-fed as part of her Assassin training. But the one drink she’d already downed and second she held in her hand were already improving her mood beyond just the adrenaline of fight club. She may not have won the whole thing, but in true honesty, that didn’t matter. What mattered was how well of a showing she did against higher odds than most of the people had faced. “Thank you,” Her voice was less strained, not as held down or words as carefully thought out as they usually were, even for such a small statement. Evie was in a good mood and the whiskey helped to loosen tongues, so to speak. She slid a full glass the few inches of table to him. “Cheers, Alfred. And as far as my apologies go, have a drink on me.” Or Jacob, given they were his ration tickets. “Oh! Thank you! Cheers.” Alfred gratefully accepted the glass of whiskey - Great Ones, it was nearly full - and took a sip of it, setting it back down on the table. Unlike Evie, alcohol didn’t affect him at all - one of the few perks of slowly transforming into a beast, he supposed, although ‘perk’ was a generous term - but that didn’t stop him from liking the taste. “Lots of celebrating here, tonight,” he said, a grin touching his face as he watched the crowd mingle. Music was coming from somewhere, and the employees of the Rose were bustling and red-faced in an attempt to stay on top of things. “So then,” he began, ready for her perspective, “who was your favourite bout, tonight? I couldn’t decide if you’d pick Thor or your Assassin friend, for different reasons, admittedly.” They were in close quarters and her face was already flushed from the drink and crowded room, so Evie leaned away and began removing her jacket, needing a bit of air. She’d showered after her own bouts, but it was quick and her Assassin garb - that she still insisted on wearing most days - was layered beyond belief. Not to mention the coat was ridiculously heavy, given how many of her knives it held. “Oh, I’d say-” She paused, mid-button, contemplating her answers. A tiny smile was on her face, even as she thought about it. “Thor.” The answer came more swiftly than she’d expected, but also Evie had reason to be exceptionally proud. “While Mr. Auditore is quite skilled, there’s nothing near as thrilling as having to climb up a so-called God’s neck in order to bring him down.” “I’d imagine so!” It wasn’t an entirely foreign feeling to Alfred - beasts were, after all, failed human ascensions to the level of the Goods. The larger and more grotesque, well, the more catastrophic the failure. He remembered the exhilaration he’d felt the first time he’d managed to tackle one of the church giants - it wouldn’t have been too far removed from how Evie had managed to cling to Thor’s back as he tired himself out swinging his hammer and attempting to dislodge her. “It was a fantastic fight, although see you and Sir Auditore fighting was exciting in a different way - it moved much faster, of course. And I could see that a lot of your formative training was similar, too… although you clearly had paid more attention.” It was perhaps an over-the-top amount of gushing, but well. Alfred gushed. There was little he enjoyed more than a good fight and the fact that Evie had managed to get to the fourth round - fourth round! - and seemed in such good spirits now was cause for generosity. “It’s not really for me to talk about Mr. Auditore’s training, but Jacob and I both started far earlier, yes. Not all Assassins discover their heritage until they’re older, of age, but we had a father that was already one and trained us to continue his legacy.” Evie could talk for hours about her upbringing, with only pleasure set in her features over it. Jacob had more of a trying time in their childhood, but then Evie was actually content to be left with books and the like. This? Being in public, surrounded by people, alcohol, was never going to be in her comfort zone, and it was obvious all the more as she finished her whiskey and moved closer in toward Alfred, narrowly avoiding an elbow to the side of her head from a gentleman standing next to their table. “Anyway-” She shot the owner of the elbow a dirty look that went ignored, and rolled her eyes. The alcohol was doing it’s job to loosen her mood, at least. “Did you learn anything from your fight? I noted that you’ve improved your rolls.” “You said you were six, I believe.” It seemed young, perhaps, but not so young to Alfred as it might have been for anyone else. By the age of six he had already seen several beasts and lost both his parents. The thought of a tiny Evie taking her first lessons on assassinations was an endearing thought rather than disturbing. Alfred glanced at the gentleman who’d nearly clocked Evie in the head, but that seemed to be somewhat of a crisis averted. “Here,” he offered, and managed to move the extremely-heavy wooden table they were using while remaining seated and not spilling either one of their drinks. “Little further away from the madness, I think, there. What did I learn from my fight?” He scrunched up his nose and considered his opponent: Samirah had been quick and practised - different from Evie, certainly, and not as fast, but nonetheless a worthy competitor. “I learned that I get terrible stage fright,” he admitted with a laugh, looking slightly embarrassed. “Probably not the technical answer you’re looking for, but there you have it.” “Six, yes.” Evie confirmed, but didn’t elaborate. No need to bring up bad memories for either of them, if they started down that path. Besides, she was determined to keep her good mood, and let her thoughts drift to a more base level, eyes roaming over his face as she took in his looks. She could admit he was attractive, of course, anyone with eyes could see that, but Evie was admittedly always attracted to personality first, and Alfred had matched her own rather spectacularly. Spectacularly. That word had to have come from the alcohol. But with her drink gone and his being nursed, she gave him a tiny smirk and reached over to snag it from him, before downing a portion of it with one swallow. Had to keep the momentum going or she was going to get stuck in her own head again. “No, I think it’s fair. It’s something to work on, your performance while you have onlookers. We’ll have to find someone to heckle you while you attempt to pin me at our next sparring session?” He’d been about to reply when she’d snatched his whiskey out from in front of him and had downed it well before he’d figured out what was happening. It was most unusual behavior from her, but despite its unfamiliarity he found himself charmed. “I’m certain we’ve no shortage of willing volunteers who’d be only too happy to talk shit in my direction between the pair of us. And wasn’t that my apology drink?” Alfred added with mock offense, his brow furrowing as the (empty) glass was replaced on the table. “One or two, I’m sure.” Evie smiled at him, that secretive little smile that she did when she was either plotting something or genuinely enjoying a moment. It was a rare occurrence from her. She knew how terrible she was at flirting - as terrible as Jacob, once someone returned his affections - but that didn’t stop her from trying, regardless. She was likely trying too hard or not enough, she had no way to gauge it, other than the fact that he seemed interested, despite everything. Looking up at him through her eyelashes, Evie plowed on. “It was your apology drink, and if you’d like another at a later date, all you have to do is ask. But for now, I’d say that I didn’t expect we’d be here much longer and you weren’t drinking it quickly enough.” It took him a half-second to cop to her meaning due to both his distraction at the noise and his surprise - she wanted to go? Well, this kind of atmosphere wasn’t really either of their styles. Wait, she wanted to go with him somewhere? Where? …there? But luckily, Alfred got there in the end. “Maybe later,” he agreed, “but I wouldn’t want to hold anything up.” He was watching her face closely as if memorizing it on the off-chance that he’d misinterpreted what she’d said and this might be his last few moments alive, but nevertheless didn’t hesitate to place a hand at the small of her back as he stood and waved another couple to have their table. With one hand, Evie snagged her jacket, and with the other, she snagged the hand that was on her back. She knew she’d regret at least one portion of this in the morning, but not what most people would expect. The public part. The fact that she knew Jacob was watching, and likely anyone else that was invested in people watching, but Evie was high on wins and well… not drunk but feeling rather more light-headed than usual thanks to the Whiskey. So when she turned and was directly in his personal space, she leaned up without asking permission and pressed her lips to his. Moments later, still in close proximity, she murmured against his lips, “Take me to bed before I start overthinking things, would you?” Unlike Evie, Alfred wasn’t altogether concerned that anyone was staring too closely - save Evie’s brother, who was all but hanging off the side of the bar and making no attempts at subtlety. And he was doubly unconcerned when she stood on her toes and kissed him sweetly; he’d been unprepared to do much more than tilt his head and let her. It was a chaste kiss in theory, but only because he felt as if it were being held very much in check, a coil that would eventually spring. “Come on,” he answered, voice low only for her: “I’ll do my best to keep you from thinking at all.” |