Ozma (boyprincessofoz) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2018-03-27 14:19:00 |
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Entry tags: | grantaire, ozma |
Who: Ozma and R
What: Running into one another
When: A month or so ago
Where: The Court of Miracles
Rating/Warnings: Language, drinking, discussion of slightly bruised hearts.
Status: Complete when posted
Ozma just wanted a drink. Or maybe four but she didn’t feel like going to any of the bars she’d been frequenting lately which had her going back to the first bar she’d found herself going to - The Court of Miracles. It was always relaxed there and the workers seemed to keep a close eye on things to make sure none of the patrons got out of hand. She’d settled down on a barstool, ordered her wine and leaned back to scan the room to see if there was anyone she knew there, not sure whether she was hoping there would be or wouldn’t be.
***
Grantaire was at the Court, comme d’habitude, though it was early enough in the evening that he had not yet gone from ‘pleasantly buzzed’ to ‘stumbling drunk’ and thus was still mostly agreeable in nature and not yet hitting on anything that moved or bemoaning his life to anything that didn’t. Still, he hardly trusted his eyes when something sweet and ginger roamed across his somewhat hazy vision. A face like that, delicate like a doll and yet somehow also sultry, could not be forgotten. Nor could those legs. He had not had many occasions to come into contact with Ozma since she forgave him, however, unwisely, for that incident, and for that he hardly blamed her. He considered, for a very brief moment, turning away and pretending like he hadn’t seen her.
But that would be sensible and smart, and R had never professed to be either of those things. So instead, he sauntered over to the woman and poured himself onto the barstool next to her. “Ma’mselle! A surprise to see you grace this counter again, though hardly unwelcome. You are enjoying yourself this evening, ouais?”
***
Ozma hadn’t noticed R until he sat down beside her, clearly a few drinks ahead of her in the scheme of things which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. He was more amusing than annoying to her when he’d been drinking which seemed to be everytime she saw him. She smiled at him, turning a little so that her skirt slid up a little higher on her legs. “R. I didn’t notice you when I came in but it’s definitely picked my evening up.” The bartender set her wine down and she picked up the glass and raised it towards her new companion slightly before taking a sip. “What about you? Any legs I should be on the lookout for?”
***
R’s eyes did not miss the flash of skin that was exposed when her skirt raised, because he was a mortal man and he was therefore weak, but he made no comment - it was the gentlemanly thing to do, not to mention the selfish one. He was slightly warmed by the comment, misguided and mistaken as it was. “Ma’mselle, you flatter.” He grabbed her hand and pressed a semi-sloppy kiss to the back of it.
He chuckled. “Ah, you know that your legs are the only ones that are worth taking in, do not be mistaken. I have seen no others tonight that could even compare. Have you?”
***
Ozma smiled at him when he kissed her hand that way, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze before pulling her hand from his.
She looked around, subtly checking out the other women in the room before turning her gaze back on him. “That blonde in the corner has a pair that aren’t completely horrible,” there was a little twinge inside of her when she mentioned the hot blonde but she covered it up with another sip of her wine.
***
R turned to investigate, and yes, he had seen the blonde in question, and her legs. Like all women’s legs, and all women in general, of course they caught his attention, and of course he admired - again, mortal, male, weak, et al. “They are lovely, of course,” he said, because he may have been a pig (at least according to a lovely young woman he had sang the praises of the other day), but he was very much about equal opportunity and admiring the lovely things int he world. “But I would not say that they compare in the slightest. They are like gas station wine: I would never say no to them, do not mistake me! But if I were offered something nicer then I would probably choose that. Unless I could have both, of course.” He turned to Ozma with a friendly leer.
***
“I’m afraid love that you’re on your own with hot blondes for the time being. I’m taking a bit of a break from that particular joy,” Ozma told him with a small smile, ordering another round of drinks for the two of them. “But you should go for it.” She said trying to be encouraging, shoving down the part of her that wanted him to stay there talking to her instead of going after the blonde.
***
R considered, making a big show of humming in thought. Yes, it was permission, if not outright dismissal. Yes, it was a wonderful excuse. Yes, he would one-hundred percent have gone for it on any other day...but today, he turned back to Ozma instead.
“Perhaps another day, ma cherie,” he said. “When you are feeling up to joining the task with me. It would hardly be fair otherwise, non? Now come, tell me why you are abstaining from the blondes. Has one broken your heart? Quel dommage! I will soothe it with my words and my wine. Here, another for you?” He gestured to your glass. “And another for me as well, I think. Clopin!”
***
Ozma didn’t even try to hide the smile that his choosing to stay and talk to her brought to her face and she accepted the new glass of wine when the bartender set it down, raising it towards R in a brief toast before sipping at it. “No. No broken heart. Things ended before either of us could do that to the other but - it still hurts losing her. Losing a friend like her.” She admitted. “Tonight I am nursing it with wine before throwing myself back out there.”
***
“I nursed on wine from a young age,” Grantaire said with a wink. “It is good medicine for the things which hurt, no matter what they are. To recovery from all ills!” He raised his own toast for her then leaned against the bar. “Tell me, ma cherie, what would make you ‘throw yourself’ again?”
***
“And less hassle than actually having to face them sometimes,” Ozma said, brushing a red curl back over her shoulder as she set her glass down, resting her cheek on her free hand as she leaned beside him. “I’m not entirely sure. Any suggestions I should try?”
***
“Far less. It is most of my goal when I drink, not to have to face my demons. It sometimes works. Sometimes it brings them to me even closer. But it depends upon the evening, and upon the drink. Wine is safe. Vodka is not. Do not drink vodka, ma cherie, it brings only pain. The same is true for tequila but that is an entirely different pain.” A fun sort of pain, sometimes. But not always.
R hummed and turned to her. “First it is important to identify that which you want, I think. You have said no blondes, but someone else? Another person with red hair, maybe?” He reached out to touch one of her curls. “Or a brunette, perhaps.”
***
“I'll keep that in mind next time I want something harder. Whiskey might be safe right? Or rum?” Or beers but then she had to be in the right mood and the right place for a beer. She was far pickier when it came to beers than she was wine and she knew it.
“Would you believe that I've never been with another redhead?”
***
“Whiskey and rum are usually safe, though anything is dangerous in large amounts. That is not always so bad, though.” He smirked, a little. “Danger can be fun, oui?”
R tsked. “They are very fun, the red hairs! I will bring one to you if I find one who is willing, je promets. What are the things that you look for so that I know who to look for?”
***
“Depends on the kind of danger I think. How fun it is I mean.” Was she flirting? Just a little bit but it was easy with R.
Ozma smiled at him. “One willing to do what exactly? It’ll help me know how to answer your question best.”
***
R hummed and leaned in close. “Whatever it is that you want them to, ma cherie. That would be the first thing to decide, I would think.” He pulled back with a wink and a sip of his wine.
***
“Right now? I just want people to have fun with.” Ozma wasn’t ready for any sort of emotional entanglement. She and Elsa had ended things before either of them were any deeper into it for a reason after all.
***
“Then fun we will have!” R exclaimed, polishing off the last of his wine and took her hand. “But I do not think that this place is the best to have the greatest of fun. It is good for sitting and drinking away sorrows and admiring the lovely Esmeralda, but if you are looking for fun beyond that, it is best to leave this place. I know a place, though! I know many places. I will show them to you, ma cherie.” He stood up and, after throwing enough money to cover their tabs and then some onto the counter, pulled her along with him in search of funner pastures.