Post by Xavier Darnai on Jul 13, 2014 10:05:41 GMT
[----]: Sometimes it was just a matter of timing that could bring two people together. The young man in the nicely cut suit was making his way down the road, keeping to himself quietly as he took a hit off the cigarette. Rusty red eyes stared idly in front of him as he walked, as if he was making sure that there was still space in front of him for the boots on his feet. Strong shoulders, a steady pace, an air of confidence without the need to impress anyone. His pepper black hair wasn't so much as wild and without thought as it might have been called unconstrained, growing thickly around his head in uneven jaunt. The sleeves of his suit had been pushed back along his arms, and though the distance of sight might have had him confused for someone else, his bare left arm was marked only with a strange red tattoo, hard to make out with his hand in his pocket. Pausing at the intersection, he looked up and down the road, and it was the sight of the bistro diner that convinced him to cross the street in that particular direction. "Sure, why not." Grinning a bit, he gave a quick spring step into the crosswalk, moving through the empty street with a bit of determination, leaving his sharp English accent carrying in the cool night air. "Could go for a good international meal..."
Obvious Illusion: "And just what do you think is international about this diner, again? Another round of Swedish meatballs or that beef concoction you've had just the other day?" Yes, that was Reader. Where her voice carried a bit of humor through the sultry teasing undertones. So much so, that she had managed to walk up from behind him without making too much of a sound. She even so much as gave her tongue a cluck as if to tsk the man that she had no doubt just assumed was a familiar shape and love of suits. Damn, that man might be off hands but he was surely not a hardship upon her dual colored eyes. With her hair free that evening, her fingers itched. She itched to have, to touch, to wants - the textural fetish was back in full force and that no doubt would have come into play as she lithely reached across their space of coming side by side in her own chalk-line striped charcoal grey suit. Only, hers was devoid of a jacket and the white blouse had its sleeves rolled up along her arms. Coming no doubt from a long night of work in the proverbial salt mines and she swiped the man's cigarette. Yes. She stole it. Because, she needed that hint of nicotine sucking up what oxygen receptors in her blood she did have left to give her the pseudo-high of an endangered human soul. Black Prada heels didn't even sound on the pavement - making one wonder just how the hell she walked in those things that allowed the now over six foot woman to tower over most of her cotton army. Yes, she brought that smoke to her lips without a second -glance- at him.
[----]: Sharp reflexes for the young man were somewhat softened by the sound of a woman's voice. Raising a thin brow, he turned his head slowly to look at the woman with a sort of shark-like smile, eyes roaming over her slowly. There was something impressive about the look of a woman who had a sense of proper fashion and appeal instead of whatever they thought might get the boys to bounce around like wolves in a cartoon whistling cat calls. His now empty hand moved to his jaw as he continued up the walk, rubbing there with his thumb as he gave a little twist of his head. "Well, can't say I was enjoying Swedish last night, but I certainly wouldn't be opposed to a melting pot of options tonight..." Letting the statement roll out of him, he reached now for that cigarette, taking it back from her after she stole the hit. Pulling his own off of the now obviously shared nail in the coffin, the young man offered it back to her with a curious look. Once his hand was free, he reached to his collar, loosening the top button and the knot of his tie a touch, taking a slow breath before letting it out again. "Though at least I'll get to say I have quite lovely company, won't I? I'm Victor, by the way, and you would be?"
Obvious Illusion: "Holy shit." Yes, Reader often had that verbal filter on off. She even managed so much so as to let out a little cough - or a choke if you would, when she had realized that she just plucked a stranger's cigarette at the sound of his voice. The accent was different. The facial features were slightly askew from the typical man she had been interested in riling up that evening. Of course, Reader had her moods to match her idle fingers at times and she let the curls of the cigarette smoke smack her in the face as she had the audacity to let her jaw drop just enough to allow those full lips of hers a tempting and surprised 'o.' "I'm so very sorry. I... Mistook your suit. I mean... I thought you were someone else. A friend. He wears suits." Reader grimaced inwardly, lame. Oh, how terrible of her. The slightest hint of pink managed to grace her cheeks in an extra extortion of embarrassment that only lasted for a few seconds before her pursed lips took over and she tried to wrangle the laughter inside of her. "Yes. Lovely company. My apologies, truly." However, that didn't stop her from taking the smoke. Because she soon fit it between her lips and she sucked in upon that cancer stick with a roll of her eyes heaven ward. Reader's first impressions were always awful. She held down that smoke as she told the man her name. She even thrust her hand out, those long fingers bruised that night. It had been a long night - but at least they were no longer broken. "Death. Reader Death, Victor."
[Victor]: There was a quiet little chuckle as he shook his head, dropping his hand away from his chin to sink it back into the pocket of his slacks. "Well isn't that just a fine little confusion. I suppose I should be sure to thank your friend for having such a generic look." Toying his tongue against his molars for a moment, he watched her out of the corner of his eyes with a smirk. Every bit of that cigarette taken down was one he couldn't take advantage of, but he had others and he would worry about that once he was looking at a menu. "Pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Reader Death. So, I take it you've been here on more than one occasion with your friend who wears suits, yes?" Victor couldn't help the deductive reasoning. She seemed to have some idea of the menu of the diner they were approaching. Stopping at the door, he pulled it open for her, reaching out with his left arm to grab the handle and revealing the extent of the tattoo on the underside of the flesh there. N-D0522 It ran from about the elbow to his wrist. With a quick tug and a slight spin, he cleared the door for her, giving a nod of his head to the side for her to pass first.
Obvious Illusion: "Oh, I don't know. He tells me that he's a good wingman." Reader chuckled at the thought of Xavier playing such a particular part at a bar or club. Oh, how the girls would rage. She seemed to give a smile though. Yes, she had though of Xavier in a fine, respectable light. They had shared one too many conversations of what if and has beens that they both knew a bit of intimacy. She certainly gave Victor a smile though, even if her eyes narrowed to him. The rich emerald was surrounded in a beautiful navy blue, flecks of amber sealed in between but one never got quite close enough to inspect the Toreador's eyes. Her fingers were cool, and she kept them around the cigarette that she ashed upon the street before taking it into the diner with her. Yes, that probably was inappropriate. However, before long they'd be seated in the correct section - along the booths in the back. "Yes, he wears suits. Just like you. Fine, fine suits..." She said upon an inhale, the waspy relief in her voice was as if it gave her something delicious to look at. But, the deadly creature of the night noticed his tattoo, the respectable armed status (no doubt), and the way he looked. The wayward peppered hair, the build, and the height. "You know, there's nothing wrong with fine, handsome men fulfilling a woman's fantasy and filling -out- a suit now, is there?" She perked a brow as the hostess gave her a nose-wrinkled look and she nodded to the blonde that left them their menus upon the table. Reader's slide down easily, into the booth as if she'd done it countless times.
[Victor (N-D0522)]: "I don't think I can argue with his success, but I imagine that will depend greatly on how the next couple of hours go, no?" There was a bounce of his eyebrows as he once again offered that solid shark-like smile. As they moved on through the Diner, he gave a nod to the blonde who seemed to regard him strangely for a moment before returning to the hostess station. Still, he slid down into the booth and rest back, picking one ankle up and resting over his knee. "Not that I'm one to rebuke the compliment, especially from a woman who obviously takes care and pride in her own appearance." His lips curled up a bit as he opened the menu, looking it over quickly enough. Half of his vision scanned through the options while the other kept her in his periphery. She was quite the pleasant sight, especially considering he hadn't planned on any company for the evening. "So no, I suppose there is absolutely nothing wrong with it at all."
Obvious Illusion: "I will be sure to tell him a male of such fine esteem who wears suits as well as he does sends his thanks for the visitor during his meal." She gave the man a bit of a smile. The corners of her mouth turned up, of course. She would press the cigarette back between her lips for a moment, giving the stick it's death warrant as the end came painfully close. Of course, she'd tilt her chin to the side and blow her smoke towards the wall. Her fingers were long, nails were not of any gaudy fake attire or rhinestones to sparkle. No, her nails were perfectly trimmed and only the right hand had been bruised. It was something that even her Glamour abilities had failed to hide. She had just fed, fresh from the human farm of willing participants as the night had drawn later to a close. The sun had come down, that was all that mattered. The ugly blue - purple color encased her fingers, her hand, inching up to her forearm and tapering off to her natural pale flesh. She arched a brow at the man and reached up, tucking on of those lax curls behind her ear. "Now now, Mister. I do believe that was a compliment upon my appearance. Even for a working woman, hm? I fancy the ... versatility a pair of well tailored slacks can look and feel on someone of such an astute status. What is it you do?" She delved right into the process of questioning him, of course - without Xavier and their philosophical conversations of past and present, she was attempting to enjoy the time she would have spend normally with him in the evening with this man that she owed a cigarette too. Her fingers swept down, crushing the remains of the cancer stick into the provided tray.
[Victor (N-D0522)]: "Acquisitions and mergers, myself. I tend to make sure that the assets two different groups have are properly organized, eliminate redundancies, things of that nature." Smiling again, Victor looked over the menu one last time before folding it and setting it down so it rest just over the edge of the table. Settling his jaw into the palm of his right hand, he tapped idly at the side of his face before looking to her again, keeping that eerie smirk as he took in her posture. "I can agree, a good suit can open plenty of doors a more relaxed appearance couldn't. It is a shame more people aren't aware of the fact. Though I suppose a secret between a few like us is nothing to be to ashamed of, now is it?" With a deep breath, he undid the button of his suit jacket before reaching down into the pocket of his slacks to acquire his cigarettes and book of matches. One came out swiftly enough before the pack was rest on the table top and he cupped his hands around the book of matches in a quick series of fidgets and strikes that followed with the sound of sulfur igniting and a deep hit being drawn in. Quickly pinching out the flame, he tossed the burnt stick into the ash tray and looked to her again. "So, planning on meeting your friend and my mysterious benefactor here this evening?"
Obvious Illusion: "It sounds like a job that can be quite stressful and mentally exhausting. Though, I must say that sometimes even such a position has its rewards. Do you care for your job or did you fall into it?" So many people seemed to like what they did or they just had a natural knack for completing a task at hand for their company. Some were molded into the positions that were needed where as others fell carelessly. She shifted, of course. One long leg underneath the table would cross - right over left and those manicured toes would actually be painted in silver. But, they wouldn't be visible in the Prada heels. Which, those heels, were nearly reaching five inches alone and she could run a marathon in them. Some, were born naturals. She was a business woman. She was a beautiful slave to supply and demand. Her looks weren't exactly the typical Irish. Nor, were they Black Irish with those piercing blue eyes. She was a mixture. She was a twist. A woman with brunette hair, lightly kissed with auburn and eyes that weren't typical of their descendants. She also did not seem to spend any time in the fields in her prior lives, either. No, instead she simply gave a chuckle and nodded. Their secret was safe with her. "Oh, Xavier? That man comes and goes as he pleases. Really, just like me. We've an understanding of business." Of course, the pleasure was left to the wayside there. And, she quite respected that. "I didn't expect him. We just end up falling into step beside one another much like I mistook you for him tonight." She gave a grin to the man and lifted her chin as the waitress came by. She ordered coffee with cream since none happened to be upon the table and then she let Victor have his turn with her.
[Victor (N-D0522)]: As she asked if he enjoyed his job, there was a slight tug at the corner of his eye, almost as something deep in the back of his head was pulled on. Victor's pause was a short one, and the seeming flinch in his facial expression would have been outright missed by a normal person. Still, he gave a slight shrug of his shoulders and picked up a smile. "You could say I was born into it. And it isn't so exhausting if you have the mind for it." Offering a quiet little laugh, he nodded his head slowly with some appreciation for her description of both her and the non-present wingman. "If you fall into step often enough you should consider me quite jealous of the man, regardless of the accidental favor he's done me." The approach of the waitress was not outright ignored, and snuffing out the cigarette he had been idly smoking, he turned to her with a quick smile. "I'll have the churrasco, I have to admit the idea of Cuban food out of a Russian restaurant has a certain delicious irony to it. And a gin tonic, if you don't mind."
Obvious Illusion: "Yes, and then there are those that have that innate ability. Bred, if you will for a job well done." She shifted within the booth. She allowed her shoulders to relax as she took little caution with this stranger in front of her. Hell, the last man she went out with that she didn't know spoke at lengths about his job, his ex-wife, and his daughter's knack for boys who wore black lipstick and had gauged ears. This was quite the pleasant change. So, she let the familiar environment comfort her as she watched the man across from her. She could see that barely there flinch as if she had strung a cord he didn't care to give up. "And then sometimes the job just finds us." She said at, as if she were offering a bit of comfort. "And, he is married, by the way. My wingman. Tells me she's a woman of renowned ability. The man hasn't even laid a finger on me in the seductive fashion. Much sighs, there. For he is quite handsome. Rugged. Mysterious. But, then again... I'm sure I don't want his secrets either." The smirk was one of truth. No, she had enough baggage. "The beef stroganoff is delicious here. I'm partial to the cheesecake myself." She breathed. She smiled. She shifted here and there, keeping her body awake. The one thing she didn't have, though, was a heart beat. She smiled as the waitress nodded and wandered off to the kitchen with their order. Coffee would be a relief. "But then again, there's always something about the bad boy that is intriguing."
[Victor (N-D0522)]: Some might have called him reserved, others cagey, but the truth was somewhere between. Unburdening himself of his secrets was not exactly something Victor was inclined to do, and any number of reasons behind it could be guessed as he sat there. Nodding in agreement to her understanding of how one might acquire certain employment, Victor gave a sly smile. "That is the truth, isn't it. Sometimes the job finds you." As the waitress departed, he chuckled a bit, leaning in towards the table. "You sound almost disappointed, Reader. You should find something to take your mind off of it." With elbows pressed to the table, he folded his hands together, his left finger tapping against the back of his right in a simple rhythm. Tap tap tap. "Maybe the cheesecake. You do look like you could rather thoroughly enjoy a good, solid dessert. A little bit of bad behavior on top of the good perhaps. Something a little sinful?" It was hard for the man not to offer up the idea of the vice after hearing her profess such interest in the misbehaving.
Obvious Illusion: "Ah, and what would we be without our emotions and our thoughts? Disappointment is something that comes with the territory, no?" She arched a brow at him as he moved around. She leaned forward, unable to help herself. "What does this mean?" She touched him. She touched the back of his hand where that tattoo resided. She let her fingertips sink up further, to where that red ink was. She barely pulled her touch back, though. She didn't snap her eyes at attention to see the reaction upon his face. No, she simply asked a question as she allowed her lips to curl into a smile. It was a true, true smile instead of her typical smirk. "What would time my mind of such disappointments, Victor? Do you think a slice of cheesecake, no matter how decadent, could manage to distract me?"
[Victor (N-D0522)]: "Hard to think what we might be without thought, but I imagine without emotion things would be far more clinical, wouldn't they?" As she pressed her finger to the skin of his arm, he turned his eyes to follow her finger, watching the tips drag towards the ink. It was neatly done, clinically almost. No artistry to it or anything looking to be hand done. The lines were clean, the color an even draw all the way through every square inch. Once more there had been that draw of a reaction if she had been looking to catch it. The hesitation was again short. "I... couldn't begin to go into it." A light amount of uncertainty was in the tone used, but that faded away with the slight change of subject. Stepping right back in to that same speed, he brought up the corner of his lips, raising his eye brows. "Oh no, Reader, I do not think that a simple slice of cheesecake would sate you at all. I'm sure you require something far more... substantial." With her finger on his arm there was no mistaking the pulse flowing through him, and his heart beat was without a doubt a strong one. It pounded in his chest at near double speed of what may have been her typical prey, though he did not seem excited in any way.
Obvious Illusion: She understood his words. She knew what it was like to have stories and not caring to share. She knew the differences that people had, the battles that they had to overcome, and the emotional torture it all took upon a person. She inhaled deeply, taking back her fingers of course. There was a nod to her chin as if she accepted his words at pure face value. He didn't need to be pestered. Of course, she didn't know him from any others. The waitress came back with their drinks, smiled politely, told Victor that his food would be arriving shortly and that she would be back soon. Of course, Reader remained quiet. Those eyes were almost downcast, paying attention to the blackness of her coffee until he woman left and she could start opening the tiny sugar packets and the little buckets of cream. "Ah, substantial. Yes. Don't we all hope for substantial in one way or another? That food may satisfy, that thirst may be quenched, that ... people enjoy each other's company." She seemed almost, a little speculative. As if her thoughts dwindled down a darkened sewer for a few moments. "We all have our secrets, after all."
[Victor (N-D0522)]: "People enjoy each other's company? Well that would be one way to put it, wouldn't it?" Taking up the glass in his left hand, he gave it a slow stir, causing the ice to clink together and swirl in his glass before bringing it to his lips for a sip. The whole while he kept his eyes on her, watching the little shift in her posture, enjoying this little dance quite a bit. As he brought the glass down, he quickly brushed his lower lip over his upper, taking the remnant of the rather aromatic spirit that remained there. "We do, don't we. All have our secrets, all have those little bits that tug and pull in all the wrong places and all the right ways..." Offering a playful smirk on top of the rather intentive stare, he raised his brows slowly. "...I can't help but wonder what sort of things might be tugging at you."
Obvious Illusion: "It would. I suppose. Can't be too dirty out in public, no?" She inhaled deeply, letting her fingers meander up and push some of that heavy, thick hair away from her face. It fell where ever it pleases. It toppled down her shoulders and over the collar of her shirt. That vest certainly amplified what was already hugged by no doubt - a wonderful supportive bra. Of course, with each deep breath that top button strained, but that was because the clothes fit her like a glove and barely allowed much room for something such as deep breaths. She was looking down at her coffee, dumping the fourth or fifth little creamer cup in it before picking up the sugar container and upending it for a long count. "I don't think you would be entering into friendly territory. The thoughts that tug at me, Victor, I can assure you are nothing but hostile." They were painful. They were brutal. They were extremely needy and so dirty that she could make a centurion blush. The hollow of her throat dipped, swallowing hard despite the curve of a smile still remaining on her lips. "We just met, and you are already dipping deep. What makes you so brave over there?"
[Victor (N-D0522)]: Raising a brow at her mention of public exposure, he couldn't help the grin as he took another slow sip of the gin tonic, carefully cradling the glass in his hand as it lowered away once more. Victor was rather enjoying the view he had, deep breaths or not, but he couldn't have possibly been very observant if he had missed the way that button strained. As she offered him yet another serve in their tennis match, he couldn't help but return it. "I live in a world of hostile takeovers and rather unfriendly negotiations. It would be untoward of me not to have the strength of conviction enough to wade in to the deep waters where the sharks play. Besides, what have I got to lose?" Such a predatory grin couldn't be mistaken. Victor may have been in his mid to late twenties, but his eyes didn't show sign of shying away from the dangerous. "What fun would life be if everyone played it safe, Reader? None. No fun at all."
Obvious Illusion: "And I bet you are the type that thinks the world revolves around you, no?" She couldn't help but see that stark realization in his eyes that he enjoyed hunting. Now, Reader was just being rather damned. She pushed. She pressed. She needled her way into someone's psyche. She didn't need their secrets. She didn't need their thoughts. No, she just loved company. She loved that sense of companionship, and oddly enough she left her eyes from this man to venture around the guests. No, Xavier wasn't there. Not tonight, at least. So, another deep breath was had and her fingertips seemed to massage the silver of the spoon. She always needed to hold onto something. To touch something. Those bruised fingers moved even despite the dull, healing ache. She smirked back at the man, giving a bit of a shake of her head. "There's nothing wrong with watching the sharks play. Or, better yet, there is nothing wrong with wading in to attempt to play with the bigger species." Calculating creatures. They were devious until a new pawn would enter their territory. Tails whipped and teeth emerged. "So tell me then, Victor..." She let her breath out. The vest seemed to relax the slightest upon her person. "Do you like being bitten?"
[Victor (N-D0522)]: There was no outward laugh, but his shoulders rolled once as he kept his lips pinned up at one side. Slowly he shook his head, but his eyes didn't move, staying fixed on her. "Oh no, it would be a dreadful mess if the world revolved around me. No, I'm just here to play on it." Slowly his head tilted to the side, nodding again in agreement with the woman as she mentioned swimming with the bigger fish. "Of course. What worth is a catch if it can't even fight back? The sharper the bite, the deadlier the dance, the more fun it is." An idle click of his teeth behind slightly parted lips was offered as he watched her with an almost wicked look. Victor had been playful, but the more they seemed to narrow in on the subject they had danced around, the more it became obvious that his refinement was a bit like the camouflage stripes. It helped him blend in long enough to find his prey, perhaps lure them in by their curious glance, and finally strike. Another sip was taken of the gin tonic before he lowered the glass to the table, twisting it around on its base slowly in a little idle circle while he watched the woman rather intently. This was without a doubt the most fun Victor could remember having in ages.
Obvious Illusion: "We are all playing on the world to a point. Some for fun. Others for a prize." She narrowed her eyes briefly, as if she were assessing the man who once again sat across from her. She would brush her fingers of that right hand over the rum of her coffee mug. She seemed to try to absorb the heat in that direction. However, it didn't last long. No, the smirk was full fledged now. "There's nothing wrong with sinking into a pool of another's territory just to see how riled up one could get. But, alas, one shouldn't feed the wild animals. Makes for nothing but headache and disappointments. You can't take them home with you. There's no place to run." She would cant her head, taking her spoon once again and began to stir that liquid that looked nothing like the original black coffee. Her eyes drooped briefly, the left hand pressed down to the table as the tapping had registered briefly. She lifted her eyes and would ... vaguely stare at him as he quieted too.
[Victor (N-D0522)]: "Who said anything about wanting to run? Wild happens to be the best kind of animal. Plenty of fight in it." When his plate came by, set down with a fork and knife in front of him, he gave the waitress a little nod and raised his glass to ask for a second round before bringing it up for another sip. Regarding her for a moment, his attention turned back to Reader as he set down the glass again with that same wicked smile. "But that doesn't mean I can't take one home to play." Drawing in a slow breath, he swept up the knife and fork with all the skill of a man who had used a blade before, cutting quickly through the marinated steak on rice. Six nearly even cuts were made, the last of which was pulled free of his fork as the first bite. He bit hard against the meat with a sort of vicious force before politely closing his mouth to chew like a good English gentleman ought, and he didn't take his eyes off her once as he savored the action of eating.
Obvious Illusion: "There are plenty more things to do than run, I suppose. So many different actions. Deeds. Time spend well. Or, at least to the causal observer." Of course, Reader pictured all those times where she had wanted a domesticated animal and still she couldn't bring herself to have the beast within her home not because of the needs, the smells, or the toys - but instead she wasn't always home. Her mind wandered. Her feet wandered. She could be busy for hours or days. Hell, sometimes she boarded a fucking plane only on an hour's notice. With another deep breath, she brought her hand up to rub at the bridge of her nose. This action was not done out of aggravation, no - it was done out of pure need to try to cause the headache of want to subside. By now, the bruise had receded to just the back of her hand and lightened in considerable color. "How is it?" She gestured with her chin to his plate before she took up the coffee once again and drank of it.
[Victor (N-D0522)]: Picking up on physical cues came easily to him, and while he had no sense of sympathy to offer, he did swallow down carefully enough before tilting his head to the side. "I hear the best way to free yourself of a headache is to have your mind cleared." Setting the knife down, the edge of it rest against the plate as he skewered another bite of the meat with all the intent and malice he could muster without going so far as to outlandishly thrust through it or the plate below. Lifting his fork, he kept eyes on her as he let another wicked smile play out. "Exquisite. Though as I eat I find myself wondering if you would like to bite." The words were chosen very specifically, even as they flowed out of him so naturally. While he waited for an answer, he took the second bite in that same slow display.
Obvious Illusion: "It has been a long day." Did he need much more of an explanation? A long day, after all, could mean anything. She had an accident. It had been taken care of. She had been healing slowly; never one to be able just to get right up and walk away; no. She had the tendency to crawl, struggle to stand, and then limp until her body had allowed her to fully recover on her reserves. Her eyes seemed to appreciate his words - the tension in her face eased momentarily. "I don't have much of that. My mind isn't cleared too often." Because she was dirty. Because she was always thinking about the next. The way. If this were to happen or that. The way she thought was through trial and error. To let the creativity play out. "I like to take my meals right from the source. And, I swallow." Now, how was that for blatant? The waitress that had come by to warm up her coffee had been so suddenly shaken up that it splashed over the rim of her mug and she took a few napkins from nearby to sop of the mess. So - distracted partially, she had only caught his face for a moment after her words. Terribly caged, she was.
[Victor (N-D0522)]: Taking her words at face value would have been an utter shame, and of course there was no way to deny the context of her mind being clouded when she followed up such a simple statement with a wonderfully blatant cross. Victor's eyes had a wicked gleam in them for her to catch as she regarded his reaction. Grinning wholly, as though the shark was certain he had found his prey to be so much more than a simple meal, he set the fork down for just a moment and took up the fresh drink, watching the waitress clean up her shock induced spill as he spoke so very clearly enough to hurry the waitress' flustered pace. "I imagine that feeding an appetite like that is quite the task, sounds like quite the welcome challenge." Victor had no doubts that their hooks had managed to catch each other, but that was no deterrent as far as he was concerned. If anything it was all the more reason to keep trying to reel in the catch and make an evening of it.
Obvious Illusion: "And just what do you think is international about this diner, again? Another round of Swedish meatballs or that beef concoction you've had just the other day?" Yes, that was Reader. Where her voice carried a bit of humor through the sultry teasing undertones. So much so, that she had managed to walk up from behind him without making too much of a sound. She even so much as gave her tongue a cluck as if to tsk the man that she had no doubt just assumed was a familiar shape and love of suits. Damn, that man might be off hands but he was surely not a hardship upon her dual colored eyes. With her hair free that evening, her fingers itched. She itched to have, to touch, to wants - the textural fetish was back in full force and that no doubt would have come into play as she lithely reached across their space of coming side by side in her own chalk-line striped charcoal grey suit. Only, hers was devoid of a jacket and the white blouse had its sleeves rolled up along her arms. Coming no doubt from a long night of work in the proverbial salt mines and she swiped the man's cigarette. Yes. She stole it. Because, she needed that hint of nicotine sucking up what oxygen receptors in her blood she did have left to give her the pseudo-high of an endangered human soul. Black Prada heels didn't even sound on the pavement - making one wonder just how the hell she walked in those things that allowed the now over six foot woman to tower over most of her cotton army. Yes, she brought that smoke to her lips without a second -glance- at him.
[----]: Sharp reflexes for the young man were somewhat softened by the sound of a woman's voice. Raising a thin brow, he turned his head slowly to look at the woman with a sort of shark-like smile, eyes roaming over her slowly. There was something impressive about the look of a woman who had a sense of proper fashion and appeal instead of whatever they thought might get the boys to bounce around like wolves in a cartoon whistling cat calls. His now empty hand moved to his jaw as he continued up the walk, rubbing there with his thumb as he gave a little twist of his head. "Well, can't say I was enjoying Swedish last night, but I certainly wouldn't be opposed to a melting pot of options tonight..." Letting the statement roll out of him, he reached now for that cigarette, taking it back from her after she stole the hit. Pulling his own off of the now obviously shared nail in the coffin, the young man offered it back to her with a curious look. Once his hand was free, he reached to his collar, loosening the top button and the knot of his tie a touch, taking a slow breath before letting it out again. "Though at least I'll get to say I have quite lovely company, won't I? I'm Victor, by the way, and you would be?"
Obvious Illusion: "Holy shit." Yes, Reader often had that verbal filter on off. She even managed so much so as to let out a little cough - or a choke if you would, when she had realized that she just plucked a stranger's cigarette at the sound of his voice. The accent was different. The facial features were slightly askew from the typical man she had been interested in riling up that evening. Of course, Reader had her moods to match her idle fingers at times and she let the curls of the cigarette smoke smack her in the face as she had the audacity to let her jaw drop just enough to allow those full lips of hers a tempting and surprised 'o.' "I'm so very sorry. I... Mistook your suit. I mean... I thought you were someone else. A friend. He wears suits." Reader grimaced inwardly, lame. Oh, how terrible of her. The slightest hint of pink managed to grace her cheeks in an extra extortion of embarrassment that only lasted for a few seconds before her pursed lips took over and she tried to wrangle the laughter inside of her. "Yes. Lovely company. My apologies, truly." However, that didn't stop her from taking the smoke. Because she soon fit it between her lips and she sucked in upon that cancer stick with a roll of her eyes heaven ward. Reader's first impressions were always awful. She held down that smoke as she told the man her name. She even thrust her hand out, those long fingers bruised that night. It had been a long night - but at least they were no longer broken. "Death. Reader Death, Victor."
[Victor]: There was a quiet little chuckle as he shook his head, dropping his hand away from his chin to sink it back into the pocket of his slacks. "Well isn't that just a fine little confusion. I suppose I should be sure to thank your friend for having such a generic look." Toying his tongue against his molars for a moment, he watched her out of the corner of his eyes with a smirk. Every bit of that cigarette taken down was one he couldn't take advantage of, but he had others and he would worry about that once he was looking at a menu. "Pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Reader Death. So, I take it you've been here on more than one occasion with your friend who wears suits, yes?" Victor couldn't help the deductive reasoning. She seemed to have some idea of the menu of the diner they were approaching. Stopping at the door, he pulled it open for her, reaching out with his left arm to grab the handle and revealing the extent of the tattoo on the underside of the flesh there. N-D0522 It ran from about the elbow to his wrist. With a quick tug and a slight spin, he cleared the door for her, giving a nod of his head to the side for her to pass first.
Obvious Illusion: "Oh, I don't know. He tells me that he's a good wingman." Reader chuckled at the thought of Xavier playing such a particular part at a bar or club. Oh, how the girls would rage. She seemed to give a smile though. Yes, she had though of Xavier in a fine, respectable light. They had shared one too many conversations of what if and has beens that they both knew a bit of intimacy. She certainly gave Victor a smile though, even if her eyes narrowed to him. The rich emerald was surrounded in a beautiful navy blue, flecks of amber sealed in between but one never got quite close enough to inspect the Toreador's eyes. Her fingers were cool, and she kept them around the cigarette that she ashed upon the street before taking it into the diner with her. Yes, that probably was inappropriate. However, before long they'd be seated in the correct section - along the booths in the back. "Yes, he wears suits. Just like you. Fine, fine suits..." She said upon an inhale, the waspy relief in her voice was as if it gave her something delicious to look at. But, the deadly creature of the night noticed his tattoo, the respectable armed status (no doubt), and the way he looked. The wayward peppered hair, the build, and the height. "You know, there's nothing wrong with fine, handsome men fulfilling a woman's fantasy and filling -out- a suit now, is there?" She perked a brow as the hostess gave her a nose-wrinkled look and she nodded to the blonde that left them their menus upon the table. Reader's slide down easily, into the booth as if she'd done it countless times.
[Victor (N-D0522)]: "I don't think I can argue with his success, but I imagine that will depend greatly on how the next couple of hours go, no?" There was a bounce of his eyebrows as he once again offered that solid shark-like smile. As they moved on through the Diner, he gave a nod to the blonde who seemed to regard him strangely for a moment before returning to the hostess station. Still, he slid down into the booth and rest back, picking one ankle up and resting over his knee. "Not that I'm one to rebuke the compliment, especially from a woman who obviously takes care and pride in her own appearance." His lips curled up a bit as he opened the menu, looking it over quickly enough. Half of his vision scanned through the options while the other kept her in his periphery. She was quite the pleasant sight, especially considering he hadn't planned on any company for the evening. "So no, I suppose there is absolutely nothing wrong with it at all."
Obvious Illusion: "I will be sure to tell him a male of such fine esteem who wears suits as well as he does sends his thanks for the visitor during his meal." She gave the man a bit of a smile. The corners of her mouth turned up, of course. She would press the cigarette back between her lips for a moment, giving the stick it's death warrant as the end came painfully close. Of course, she'd tilt her chin to the side and blow her smoke towards the wall. Her fingers were long, nails were not of any gaudy fake attire or rhinestones to sparkle. No, her nails were perfectly trimmed and only the right hand had been bruised. It was something that even her Glamour abilities had failed to hide. She had just fed, fresh from the human farm of willing participants as the night had drawn later to a close. The sun had come down, that was all that mattered. The ugly blue - purple color encased her fingers, her hand, inching up to her forearm and tapering off to her natural pale flesh. She arched a brow at the man and reached up, tucking on of those lax curls behind her ear. "Now now, Mister. I do believe that was a compliment upon my appearance. Even for a working woman, hm? I fancy the ... versatility a pair of well tailored slacks can look and feel on someone of such an astute status. What is it you do?" She delved right into the process of questioning him, of course - without Xavier and their philosophical conversations of past and present, she was attempting to enjoy the time she would have spend normally with him in the evening with this man that she owed a cigarette too. Her fingers swept down, crushing the remains of the cancer stick into the provided tray.
[Victor (N-D0522)]: "Acquisitions and mergers, myself. I tend to make sure that the assets two different groups have are properly organized, eliminate redundancies, things of that nature." Smiling again, Victor looked over the menu one last time before folding it and setting it down so it rest just over the edge of the table. Settling his jaw into the palm of his right hand, he tapped idly at the side of his face before looking to her again, keeping that eerie smirk as he took in her posture. "I can agree, a good suit can open plenty of doors a more relaxed appearance couldn't. It is a shame more people aren't aware of the fact. Though I suppose a secret between a few like us is nothing to be to ashamed of, now is it?" With a deep breath, he undid the button of his suit jacket before reaching down into the pocket of his slacks to acquire his cigarettes and book of matches. One came out swiftly enough before the pack was rest on the table top and he cupped his hands around the book of matches in a quick series of fidgets and strikes that followed with the sound of sulfur igniting and a deep hit being drawn in. Quickly pinching out the flame, he tossed the burnt stick into the ash tray and looked to her again. "So, planning on meeting your friend and my mysterious benefactor here this evening?"
Obvious Illusion: "It sounds like a job that can be quite stressful and mentally exhausting. Though, I must say that sometimes even such a position has its rewards. Do you care for your job or did you fall into it?" So many people seemed to like what they did or they just had a natural knack for completing a task at hand for their company. Some were molded into the positions that were needed where as others fell carelessly. She shifted, of course. One long leg underneath the table would cross - right over left and those manicured toes would actually be painted in silver. But, they wouldn't be visible in the Prada heels. Which, those heels, were nearly reaching five inches alone and she could run a marathon in them. Some, were born naturals. She was a business woman. She was a beautiful slave to supply and demand. Her looks weren't exactly the typical Irish. Nor, were they Black Irish with those piercing blue eyes. She was a mixture. She was a twist. A woman with brunette hair, lightly kissed with auburn and eyes that weren't typical of their descendants. She also did not seem to spend any time in the fields in her prior lives, either. No, instead she simply gave a chuckle and nodded. Their secret was safe with her. "Oh, Xavier? That man comes and goes as he pleases. Really, just like me. We've an understanding of business." Of course, the pleasure was left to the wayside there. And, she quite respected that. "I didn't expect him. We just end up falling into step beside one another much like I mistook you for him tonight." She gave a grin to the man and lifted her chin as the waitress came by. She ordered coffee with cream since none happened to be upon the table and then she let Victor have his turn with her.
[Victor (N-D0522)]: As she asked if he enjoyed his job, there was a slight tug at the corner of his eye, almost as something deep in the back of his head was pulled on. Victor's pause was a short one, and the seeming flinch in his facial expression would have been outright missed by a normal person. Still, he gave a slight shrug of his shoulders and picked up a smile. "You could say I was born into it. And it isn't so exhausting if you have the mind for it." Offering a quiet little laugh, he nodded his head slowly with some appreciation for her description of both her and the non-present wingman. "If you fall into step often enough you should consider me quite jealous of the man, regardless of the accidental favor he's done me." The approach of the waitress was not outright ignored, and snuffing out the cigarette he had been idly smoking, he turned to her with a quick smile. "I'll have the churrasco, I have to admit the idea of Cuban food out of a Russian restaurant has a certain delicious irony to it. And a gin tonic, if you don't mind."
Obvious Illusion: "Yes, and then there are those that have that innate ability. Bred, if you will for a job well done." She shifted within the booth. She allowed her shoulders to relax as she took little caution with this stranger in front of her. Hell, the last man she went out with that she didn't know spoke at lengths about his job, his ex-wife, and his daughter's knack for boys who wore black lipstick and had gauged ears. This was quite the pleasant change. So, she let the familiar environment comfort her as she watched the man across from her. She could see that barely there flinch as if she had strung a cord he didn't care to give up. "And then sometimes the job just finds us." She said at, as if she were offering a bit of comfort. "And, he is married, by the way. My wingman. Tells me she's a woman of renowned ability. The man hasn't even laid a finger on me in the seductive fashion. Much sighs, there. For he is quite handsome. Rugged. Mysterious. But, then again... I'm sure I don't want his secrets either." The smirk was one of truth. No, she had enough baggage. "The beef stroganoff is delicious here. I'm partial to the cheesecake myself." She breathed. She smiled. She shifted here and there, keeping her body awake. The one thing she didn't have, though, was a heart beat. She smiled as the waitress nodded and wandered off to the kitchen with their order. Coffee would be a relief. "But then again, there's always something about the bad boy that is intriguing."
[Victor (N-D0522)]: Some might have called him reserved, others cagey, but the truth was somewhere between. Unburdening himself of his secrets was not exactly something Victor was inclined to do, and any number of reasons behind it could be guessed as he sat there. Nodding in agreement to her understanding of how one might acquire certain employment, Victor gave a sly smile. "That is the truth, isn't it. Sometimes the job finds you." As the waitress departed, he chuckled a bit, leaning in towards the table. "You sound almost disappointed, Reader. You should find something to take your mind off of it." With elbows pressed to the table, he folded his hands together, his left finger tapping against the back of his right in a simple rhythm. Tap tap tap. "Maybe the cheesecake. You do look like you could rather thoroughly enjoy a good, solid dessert. A little bit of bad behavior on top of the good perhaps. Something a little sinful?" It was hard for the man not to offer up the idea of the vice after hearing her profess such interest in the misbehaving.
Obvious Illusion: "Ah, and what would we be without our emotions and our thoughts? Disappointment is something that comes with the territory, no?" She arched a brow at him as he moved around. She leaned forward, unable to help herself. "What does this mean?" She touched him. She touched the back of his hand where that tattoo resided. She let her fingertips sink up further, to where that red ink was. She barely pulled her touch back, though. She didn't snap her eyes at attention to see the reaction upon his face. No, she simply asked a question as she allowed her lips to curl into a smile. It was a true, true smile instead of her typical smirk. "What would time my mind of such disappointments, Victor? Do you think a slice of cheesecake, no matter how decadent, could manage to distract me?"
[Victor (N-D0522)]: "Hard to think what we might be without thought, but I imagine without emotion things would be far more clinical, wouldn't they?" As she pressed her finger to the skin of his arm, he turned his eyes to follow her finger, watching the tips drag towards the ink. It was neatly done, clinically almost. No artistry to it or anything looking to be hand done. The lines were clean, the color an even draw all the way through every square inch. Once more there had been that draw of a reaction if she had been looking to catch it. The hesitation was again short. "I... couldn't begin to go into it." A light amount of uncertainty was in the tone used, but that faded away with the slight change of subject. Stepping right back in to that same speed, he brought up the corner of his lips, raising his eye brows. "Oh no, Reader, I do not think that a simple slice of cheesecake would sate you at all. I'm sure you require something far more... substantial." With her finger on his arm there was no mistaking the pulse flowing through him, and his heart beat was without a doubt a strong one. It pounded in his chest at near double speed of what may have been her typical prey, though he did not seem excited in any way.
Obvious Illusion: She understood his words. She knew what it was like to have stories and not caring to share. She knew the differences that people had, the battles that they had to overcome, and the emotional torture it all took upon a person. She inhaled deeply, taking back her fingers of course. There was a nod to her chin as if she accepted his words at pure face value. He didn't need to be pestered. Of course, she didn't know him from any others. The waitress came back with their drinks, smiled politely, told Victor that his food would be arriving shortly and that she would be back soon. Of course, Reader remained quiet. Those eyes were almost downcast, paying attention to the blackness of her coffee until he woman left and she could start opening the tiny sugar packets and the little buckets of cream. "Ah, substantial. Yes. Don't we all hope for substantial in one way or another? That food may satisfy, that thirst may be quenched, that ... people enjoy each other's company." She seemed almost, a little speculative. As if her thoughts dwindled down a darkened sewer for a few moments. "We all have our secrets, after all."
[Victor (N-D0522)]: "People enjoy each other's company? Well that would be one way to put it, wouldn't it?" Taking up the glass in his left hand, he gave it a slow stir, causing the ice to clink together and swirl in his glass before bringing it to his lips for a sip. The whole while he kept his eyes on her, watching the little shift in her posture, enjoying this little dance quite a bit. As he brought the glass down, he quickly brushed his lower lip over his upper, taking the remnant of the rather aromatic spirit that remained there. "We do, don't we. All have our secrets, all have those little bits that tug and pull in all the wrong places and all the right ways..." Offering a playful smirk on top of the rather intentive stare, he raised his brows slowly. "...I can't help but wonder what sort of things might be tugging at you."
Obvious Illusion: "It would. I suppose. Can't be too dirty out in public, no?" She inhaled deeply, letting her fingers meander up and push some of that heavy, thick hair away from her face. It fell where ever it pleases. It toppled down her shoulders and over the collar of her shirt. That vest certainly amplified what was already hugged by no doubt - a wonderful supportive bra. Of course, with each deep breath that top button strained, but that was because the clothes fit her like a glove and barely allowed much room for something such as deep breaths. She was looking down at her coffee, dumping the fourth or fifth little creamer cup in it before picking up the sugar container and upending it for a long count. "I don't think you would be entering into friendly territory. The thoughts that tug at me, Victor, I can assure you are nothing but hostile." They were painful. They were brutal. They were extremely needy and so dirty that she could make a centurion blush. The hollow of her throat dipped, swallowing hard despite the curve of a smile still remaining on her lips. "We just met, and you are already dipping deep. What makes you so brave over there?"
[Victor (N-D0522)]: Raising a brow at her mention of public exposure, he couldn't help the grin as he took another slow sip of the gin tonic, carefully cradling the glass in his hand as it lowered away once more. Victor was rather enjoying the view he had, deep breaths or not, but he couldn't have possibly been very observant if he had missed the way that button strained. As she offered him yet another serve in their tennis match, he couldn't help but return it. "I live in a world of hostile takeovers and rather unfriendly negotiations. It would be untoward of me not to have the strength of conviction enough to wade in to the deep waters where the sharks play. Besides, what have I got to lose?" Such a predatory grin couldn't be mistaken. Victor may have been in his mid to late twenties, but his eyes didn't show sign of shying away from the dangerous. "What fun would life be if everyone played it safe, Reader? None. No fun at all."
Obvious Illusion: "And I bet you are the type that thinks the world revolves around you, no?" She couldn't help but see that stark realization in his eyes that he enjoyed hunting. Now, Reader was just being rather damned. She pushed. She pressed. She needled her way into someone's psyche. She didn't need their secrets. She didn't need their thoughts. No, she just loved company. She loved that sense of companionship, and oddly enough she left her eyes from this man to venture around the guests. No, Xavier wasn't there. Not tonight, at least. So, another deep breath was had and her fingertips seemed to massage the silver of the spoon. She always needed to hold onto something. To touch something. Those bruised fingers moved even despite the dull, healing ache. She smirked back at the man, giving a bit of a shake of her head. "There's nothing wrong with watching the sharks play. Or, better yet, there is nothing wrong with wading in to attempt to play with the bigger species." Calculating creatures. They were devious until a new pawn would enter their territory. Tails whipped and teeth emerged. "So tell me then, Victor..." She let her breath out. The vest seemed to relax the slightest upon her person. "Do you like being bitten?"
[Victor (N-D0522)]: There was no outward laugh, but his shoulders rolled once as he kept his lips pinned up at one side. Slowly he shook his head, but his eyes didn't move, staying fixed on her. "Oh no, it would be a dreadful mess if the world revolved around me. No, I'm just here to play on it." Slowly his head tilted to the side, nodding again in agreement with the woman as she mentioned swimming with the bigger fish. "Of course. What worth is a catch if it can't even fight back? The sharper the bite, the deadlier the dance, the more fun it is." An idle click of his teeth behind slightly parted lips was offered as he watched her with an almost wicked look. Victor had been playful, but the more they seemed to narrow in on the subject they had danced around, the more it became obvious that his refinement was a bit like the camouflage stripes. It helped him blend in long enough to find his prey, perhaps lure them in by their curious glance, and finally strike. Another sip was taken of the gin tonic before he lowered the glass to the table, twisting it around on its base slowly in a little idle circle while he watched the woman rather intently. This was without a doubt the most fun Victor could remember having in ages.
Obvious Illusion: "We are all playing on the world to a point. Some for fun. Others for a prize." She narrowed her eyes briefly, as if she were assessing the man who once again sat across from her. She would brush her fingers of that right hand over the rum of her coffee mug. She seemed to try to absorb the heat in that direction. However, it didn't last long. No, the smirk was full fledged now. "There's nothing wrong with sinking into a pool of another's territory just to see how riled up one could get. But, alas, one shouldn't feed the wild animals. Makes for nothing but headache and disappointments. You can't take them home with you. There's no place to run." She would cant her head, taking her spoon once again and began to stir that liquid that looked nothing like the original black coffee. Her eyes drooped briefly, the left hand pressed down to the table as the tapping had registered briefly. She lifted her eyes and would ... vaguely stare at him as he quieted too.
[Victor (N-D0522)]: "Who said anything about wanting to run? Wild happens to be the best kind of animal. Plenty of fight in it." When his plate came by, set down with a fork and knife in front of him, he gave the waitress a little nod and raised his glass to ask for a second round before bringing it up for another sip. Regarding her for a moment, his attention turned back to Reader as he set down the glass again with that same wicked smile. "But that doesn't mean I can't take one home to play." Drawing in a slow breath, he swept up the knife and fork with all the skill of a man who had used a blade before, cutting quickly through the marinated steak on rice. Six nearly even cuts were made, the last of which was pulled free of his fork as the first bite. He bit hard against the meat with a sort of vicious force before politely closing his mouth to chew like a good English gentleman ought, and he didn't take his eyes off her once as he savored the action of eating.
Obvious Illusion: "There are plenty more things to do than run, I suppose. So many different actions. Deeds. Time spend well. Or, at least to the causal observer." Of course, Reader pictured all those times where she had wanted a domesticated animal and still she couldn't bring herself to have the beast within her home not because of the needs, the smells, or the toys - but instead she wasn't always home. Her mind wandered. Her feet wandered. She could be busy for hours or days. Hell, sometimes she boarded a fucking plane only on an hour's notice. With another deep breath, she brought her hand up to rub at the bridge of her nose. This action was not done out of aggravation, no - it was done out of pure need to try to cause the headache of want to subside. By now, the bruise had receded to just the back of her hand and lightened in considerable color. "How is it?" She gestured with her chin to his plate before she took up the coffee once again and drank of it.
[Victor (N-D0522)]: Picking up on physical cues came easily to him, and while he had no sense of sympathy to offer, he did swallow down carefully enough before tilting his head to the side. "I hear the best way to free yourself of a headache is to have your mind cleared." Setting the knife down, the edge of it rest against the plate as he skewered another bite of the meat with all the intent and malice he could muster without going so far as to outlandishly thrust through it or the plate below. Lifting his fork, he kept eyes on her as he let another wicked smile play out. "Exquisite. Though as I eat I find myself wondering if you would like to bite." The words were chosen very specifically, even as they flowed out of him so naturally. While he waited for an answer, he took the second bite in that same slow display.
Obvious Illusion: "It has been a long day." Did he need much more of an explanation? A long day, after all, could mean anything. She had an accident. It had been taken care of. She had been healing slowly; never one to be able just to get right up and walk away; no. She had the tendency to crawl, struggle to stand, and then limp until her body had allowed her to fully recover on her reserves. Her eyes seemed to appreciate his words - the tension in her face eased momentarily. "I don't have much of that. My mind isn't cleared too often." Because she was dirty. Because she was always thinking about the next. The way. If this were to happen or that. The way she thought was through trial and error. To let the creativity play out. "I like to take my meals right from the source. And, I swallow." Now, how was that for blatant? The waitress that had come by to warm up her coffee had been so suddenly shaken up that it splashed over the rim of her mug and she took a few napkins from nearby to sop of the mess. So - distracted partially, she had only caught his face for a moment after her words. Terribly caged, she was.
[Victor (N-D0522)]: Taking her words at face value would have been an utter shame, and of course there was no way to deny the context of her mind being clouded when she followed up such a simple statement with a wonderfully blatant cross. Victor's eyes had a wicked gleam in them for her to catch as she regarded his reaction. Grinning wholly, as though the shark was certain he had found his prey to be so much more than a simple meal, he set the fork down for just a moment and took up the fresh drink, watching the waitress clean up her shock induced spill as he spoke so very clearly enough to hurry the waitress' flustered pace. "I imagine that feeding an appetite like that is quite the task, sounds like quite the welcome challenge." Victor had no doubts that their hooks had managed to catch each other, but that was no deterrent as far as he was concerned. If anything it was all the more reason to keep trying to reel in the catch and make an evening of it.
