|
|
Post by Deleted on Mar 12, 2015 0:21:28 GMT
she's visiting a friend, the kind of friend who owns a loft with exposed beams and keeps refilling her glass with expensive wine. the kind of person who laughs too loudly, the kind of ingenuine person violetta hopes to never be.
but it's fine.
the wine settles warm in her stomach and softens the night chill - the sun was still up when she came up, and she pulls her jacket more tightly around herself against the cutting wind, pausing on the edge of the sidewalk to wind her scarf around her neck.
she is about to step into stride with the crowd when she notices the little black square beneath their stomping feet.
darting forward, violetta takes the worn wallet in her hand, flips it open and measures the photographs against the crowd.
across the street she picks out a head of long orange hair. the light is still green, and she jaywalks towards him. a car swerves, honks.
violetta is breathless - not from the brief run so much as having the air knocked from her lungs in sheer panic during what she thought was going to be the last moment of her life.
"hey, um, you dropped this." she taps him on the shoulder, holding out his wallet.
@kieran |
|
|
|
Post by Deleted on Mar 12, 2015 1:29:09 GMT
the groove that makes those smooth hips move it had been a pretty successful evening so far, kieran thought. the night was still young, so there was still just so much more that could happen. the only thing that would make it even better was a girl coming home with him. or at least to his car.
in a serendipitous moment, kieran almost believed he was a psychic. the blaring of a horn caused him to look up and witness a girl lightly jogging up to him, holding something in her hand. upon closer inspection, it's his wallet, and she says he dropped it.
"oh, fuck, thank you," he said, too drunk to care about the decorum of letting a curse word fall out of his mouth the second he met her. accepting the battered leather wallet he flipped it open, making sure all the contents were there. when he realized that it was as empty as when he'd left the house this morning but all of his maxed credit cards were still snugly in their slots, he knew nothing had happened.
"i'd give you a hug if that wasn't weird," he said, slipping the wallet into his back pocket. "you saved me a lot of potential bullshit if i lost that. can i buy you a drink or something, as a thank you? please?"
maybe if he played his cards right the night would get even better, but he'd never been very good at gambling.
@violetta |
|
|
|
Post by Deleted on Mar 12, 2015 2:01:53 GMT
violetta looks a little surprised when he turns around, or maybe flustered. she's already seen his picture, but being face to face is a bit different - he's tall and drunk, but his skin glows warm with freckles, his eyepatch looks kitschy and his voice is a charming growl.
she smiles as he plucks the wallet from her, watches him flick through its contents. she's not sure why she's still standing there. violetta's hands toy with the fringe of her scarf, nails painted shell blue, one of those unchippable manicures that's grown out.
"oh," she glances over at the passing cars.
she's already a little tipsy and despite, herself smiling. it's not even ten pm, and she doesn't have anywhere to be. "yeah, okay."
"kieran, right? i'm violetta."
@kieran |
|
|
|
Post by Deleted on Mar 12, 2015 2:13:33 GMT
the groove that makes those smooth hips move she plays with her scarf fringe as he asks her out, basically, but not on a date. just two people, and he would be buying her a drink as thanks. still, no matter what exactly the exchange would be, she accepted it.
a little smile flickers across his features as he turns his head far to the right to look around past his eyepatch, scanning the scene. the bar he just left was getting pretty boring, so he wanted to find somewhere new to take her. his bleary eyes spotted a familiar sign.
"violetta?" somehow the name maybe sounded a little familiar, maybe he had heard it in passing once or maybe he was just a little delusional. it was hard to think with how light his head was feeling, anyways. and then it registered with him that she'd recognized his name and...his face?
"yeah, it's kieran," he said, a smile readily settling on his lips now. "you must've recognized me then. are you a fan or something?"
@violetta |
|
|
|
Post by Deleted on Mar 12, 2015 2:42:55 GMT
nodding, she can smell the alcohol on him, and she wonders if he's smelling the wine on her; like they're animals.
somehow, she's still surprised when people recognize her; so she's certainly not disappointed when he doesn't.
she laughs, but not cruelly. "sorry," she points at the pocket he tucked his wallet back into in reminder. "i just read your name on your license."
and your birthday. and your age. and your american address.
@kieran |
|
|
|
Post by Deleted on Mar 12, 2015 2:53:56 GMT
the groove that makes those smooth hips move duh. that would make sense. if he was a little more sober he might feel a little embarrassed about presuming things, but he didn't care much either way. he laughed, even, at his own misstep.
"okay, that makes more sense," he said with a nod, not really thinking about the fact that she could have lifted a lot more information about him like his driver's license number and social security number, since he was an irresponsible person who carried his social security card in his wallet. but did his american driver's license number even matter in canada? he filed that under 'questions to google if i can remember it when i'm sober.'
"not many people really do know who i am anyways. kind of nice, i can walk around town with a pretty girl like you and none of those nosy ass photographers are in our face," he said, waving a hand to demonstrate the throngs of uninterested passersby as he started to lead her towards the bar he'd noticed moments before.
grabbing the door once they got there he nearly ripped it open and with a bow that left his stringy orange hair falling into his face, he held it open for her.
"after you," he drawled. if there was any questioning if he was from canada or not, he definitely shot that one out of the park with the twangy lilts to his voice. it wasn't too noticeable normally but from time to time he liked to lay it on thick. he always just assumed girls liked the whole thing.
@violetta |
|
|
|
Post by Deleted on Mar 13, 2015 3:24:55 GMT
his body is warm. violetta doesn't know if she's radiating the same heat, but she only smiles and links her arm with his.
she has to smile a little wider at what he notes about photographers, about the forgettable girl at his side. violetta has never stood out, even at shows nobody seems to realize who she is until she's on the stage announcing it.
she does appreciate it - she gets ulcers just thinking of being in the spotlight all the time. maybe she wants to be the pretty young thing without a name tonight.
"so, what do you do?" she asks as she steps into the smoky warmth of the bar.
@kieran |
|
|
|
Post by Deleted on Mar 13, 2015 3:46:20 GMT
the groove that makes those smooth hips move he followed her into the bar, the warmth of both people and the furnace greeting him like a friendly hug. it was cold outside but he definitely wasn't dressed for the weather, with his tight jeans with too many holes and loose hooded sweatshirt. not a glove or a scarf was in sight.
"what do i do?" he repeats, then smirks. "stick it to the man." that sounded pretty lame. "play guitar, sing, stuff like that. i'm in a band."
kieran thought he was so exceedingly smooth that the fact that he wasn't was almost embarrassing. still, he sauntered to the bar and ordered himself a drink, then looked back at the dark-haired girl he'd come in with. violetta. the name still sounded kind of familiar.
"what do you want to drink? i'll buy anything you want." as if he had money. "and now i gotta ask, what about you? what do you do? you seem familiar."
@violetta |
|
|
|
Post by Deleted on Mar 13, 2015 4:04:38 GMT
she lights up when he says he's a musician. everyone in flandres seems to be a musician, and this is why violetta thrives.
she starts to unwind the scarf around her neck until th ends almost drag against the ground.
at his question, her mouth twists into a thoughtful grimace - she isn't much of a drinker, she still feels like a child breaking the rules; she answers the easy question instead. "oh, i do music too." she says, scanning the bottles lined up. "um, vodka and cranberry, please."
@kieran |
|
|
|
Post by Deleted on Mar 13, 2015 4:15:01 GMT
the groove that makes those smooth hips move she did music too, huh? probably why she seemed familiar then. it's not like it was surprising or anything, tons of people in flandres were musicians from nobodies like him (or even lower) up to the big celebrities at anl and shit like that.
when she gave her drink order he relayed it to the bartender, and in moments he handed her the glass. the bar's music wasn't too loud but the crowd was pretty noisy, so he led her to the end of the bar where things were a bit quieter before they got into the territory of people sitting at tables.
"so you do music too? what kind?" he asked, sipping at his drink and trying to be cordial. "who are you with?"
it was never a big deal who people were signed with, but it was always fun to run into someone from your label out on the town. or maybe it wasn't fun. kieran didn't really know; he wasn't super popular and neither was the little indie label he was signed to. at least he was signed, he thought.
but it was a step-by-step process. ask the questions, get a conversation going. it's not like he could buy her a drink then ask, "hey, wanna go for a ride in my car?" where ride may or may not be a euphemism. besides, after people discovered who they were talking to they usually didn't want to get into a car with him anyways, for various reasons.
@violetta |
|
