| A Burger and Fries; CLOSED | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jan 11 2014, 09:16 PM (229 Views) | |
| Andrew Cutting | Jan 11 2014, 09:16 PM Post #1 |
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It had taken less than five minutes all told for Andrew to get from the Prince to the Cutting Building with Leslie; he'd had the chauffeur pull up inside the resident's garage so they could get straight to the restaurant without a fuss. Besides it was the quickest way. As he approached the upscale, yet surprisingly small and cosy restaurant he was waved straight in and given his usual table, a neatly reserved spot in the corner with comfortable and more importantly stable seating. A waitress was over in moments to take their order - owning both the building and the holding company which owned the business had its perks - Andrew spoke with her for a moment and she strode off to the kitchen without leaving a menu; obviously burgers and fries weren't tonight's special nonetheless for Andrew it didn't have to be for him to order it. He knew how Leslie liked her food, unless she'd changed since he'd known her, and as ever his specifications were precise; a slight smirk played on his lips as he pictured the chef trying to work out how he was supposed to do fries in a restaurant equipped for a somewhat higher level of cuisine. He'd manage, he always did somehow, the man was a genius which was the reason why Andrew allowed him his own little restaurant here to be so small - the sheer exclusivity of it was a reason for decent people to come to Detroit, if only for one night and heavens knew the city needed more people of that sort of breeding. "I'm sorry for so abruptly dragging you away from Mr Matachelli; I'm sure his company was captivating, though for all the wrong reasons. I know its not really my right any more but I do worry for you even after what happened." |
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| Cameron Comorraza | Jan 11 2014, 11:11 PM Post #2 |
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Leslie walked, or stumbled, along wherever Andrew lead her. She didn't fight his hands that meant to help her, or even argue getting into his car. They'd done this enough times in the past for this to feel like second nature in some way, as if she were picking up a bicycle for the first time in almost five years and taking it for a spin. She put some distance between them, if only for her sanity, in the car. She could handle a lot of things, a big dick in the ass being one that not many would admit they could take, but given the current situation, she'd choose that without lube over a silent, awkward car ride with Andrew any day of the week. It wasn't like she couldn't stand the man, this just...wasn't the time or place. But then again, was it ever? As soon as Andrew had released her from his grasp to take a seat, she sunk into the booth and got comfortable. She didn't care if it was inappropriate as she kicked off her heels beneath the table and stretched out her long legs to prop her feet up just beside him. He was too busy talking to their waitress at the time, so perhaps he couldn't notice. Even if he did, the worst he could do was make her put her shoes back on. Or she could just throw them at him and walk out of here barefoot. Start a revolution against Stripperella heels. No, they were too pretty to be made as weapons... That and she really didn't have anything against them. He yanked her out of her nudist foot reverie with his voice. Apologizing? Interesting turning of the tables this was... At least he recognized why she'd been underlyingly pissed at him, "Maybe you should give him some more credit," She started, yawning and stretching, "Or Heaven forbid, me." This was a tricky conversation to have when your mind wanted to say one thing and your heart another. Her mind wanted to tell him that he wasn't her master anymore, he never was or would be, and he could kiss any fantasy of being together again goodbye. Her heart, however, didn't know what the fuck it wanted. It wanted to fill the void of loneliness she felt from time to time, and give Angelo a chance, and Andrew, and rainbows, and butterflies, and Brad Pitt on a silver platter. "Were you getting jealous?" She asked with a grin, her foot now nudging his leg playfully. |
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| Andrew Cutting | Jan 11 2014, 11:30 PM Post #3 |
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Jealous? Was he? Maybe he had been briefly, though in the long run he had nothing to be jealous of in Angelo Matachelli with his unenviable task as Prince and his lack of broader assets to draw upon he had been jealous of the man's roguish charm, if only for a moment. Financially speaking Andrew could ruin the man with a phone call if he was feeling particularly vindictive but in this case he wasn't. Besides such phone calls had such a cost that it didn't do to make them too often, let the threat loom over peoples' heads like the Sword of Damocles. If such tactics were used too often it cheapened the psychological effect they had on people - but then maybe financial ruin wasn't as much of a heavy punishment as all that to Matachelli; Andrew decided, in light of this realisation, that if it ever got that far he would not only have to rape, plunder and pillage, but also massacre and then salt the earth behind him. Andrew caught himself quickly, turning his thoughts back to the matter in hand; Matachelli was an annoyance that could wait and for now he would have to feign obedience to the man if only because there were no other candidates for his job besides himself and Andrew certainly didn't want to hold Praxis over Detroit. Not now, and not ever. So as his calculating mind turned back to the sticky quagmire of personal relationships he came to the conclusion that honest was probably the best policy and given Leslie's drunken state so was being concise. "Having known the man for some time I give him what credit he's due." Not a good start and Andrew stopped himself from going any further; now was not the time or place to go into detail on the Prince's flaws and weaknesses and he hardly wanted to reveal them given that it weakened Matachelli's position. The last thing he wanted was for that house of cards to come crashing down. "He has a certain charm, and I can understand why you were so enamored with him; but yes I was jealous. Upon seeing you I had hoped for a more civilised and fruitful conversation, but with him there it simply wasn't possible." "Look - there's no easy way for even me to say this, but I meant what I said back in LA, and I still mean it now; you are the only woman who ever walked into my life who truly meant anything to me. If I wanted I could have you again and again, enjoy every inch of you, ever facet of your personality; but for some reason I can't - no matter what I just can't bring myself to do that to you. I want you to want to spend time with me for who I am, not because I've intoxicated you with cheap tricks of the mind." |
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| Cameron Comorraza | Jan 12 2014, 12:39 AM Post #4 |
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"Who ever said he was using cheap tricks?" She posed the question carefully, reaching for the glass of water that sat before her and sipping it in silence, taking in everything he'd just said. He still loved her, still cared about her, hadn't let go of her, and knew he could have all that and more at the snap of his fingers if he wanted it... But he never did. Way to make her feel like that big, bad bitch in the equation, having practically erased him from her memory and moved the fuck on in Vegas with quite a few gentlemen that could actually meet her for lunch, eat real food, and had a heartbeat, "You're talking to the girl that spent five years shacked up with a goddamn Gypsy. I know what tricks are. He wasn't using them." She said this flatly, not particularly liking being reminded of her old 'Pimp'. Suga didn't fuck with her head often, but she watched him do some pretty twisted shit to the other girls' minds, and she'd encountered quite a few other vamps in her day that could fuck with her head in completely different ways... One of the first things he taught her how to do was keep them out of her head. His voice echoed in her mind hauntingly and brought her back to the present. Her stomach growled and her hand moved to rest on it, "Andrew..." She didn't know what to say. She didn't want to lead him on. She didn't want to instill any kind of hope in him. She didn't want to hurt him. She didn't want to be the girl of his dreams. "You can't just waltz back into my life and expect me to still have a place for you in it. I filled it a long time ago. With more porn." |
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| Andrew Cutting | Jan 12 2014, 01:13 AM Post #5 |
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"Pornography is hardly a substitute for a real person with real feelings. Whatever you may think of me that is what I am; a monster, yes, but not in a psychological sense. Believe me when I say though that some tricks are so subtle you won't even know you're being played; simple street hucksters can mess around with your mind just as easily as Matachelli could which is why I don't only rely on the tricks particular to my kind." He paused a moment as the waitress returned with a silver try upon which rested the most expensive burger and fries in the whole United States - only Detroit would be able to pull that off without sounding stupid - and set it down in front of Leslie beside it was a milkshake, nothing fancy just an old fashioned style creamy affair. She spoke of gypsies, their tricks were cute but hardly on a par with his; they were brilliant at feats of illusion and sleight of hand - Andrew performed his sleight of hand on a corporate scale, Ravnos tricks were small potatoes especially now. Sure he might not be able to pull a penny out from behind your ear, but he could empty your bank account and make himself seem like a saint when he gave a quarter of it back as a charitable donation. Maybe he didn't know how to trap someone with a set of cards or swindle a man out of his last dime with a game of chance - but he could strip a person of their possessions much more efficiently than any casino. She really had moved on hadn't she. If she was still wired in she would have known how silly it was to claim she'd know if she was being played - Andrew played everyone, with but one exception, her - and he'd had to go to such lengths to show her... "But as usual I'm getting distracted by the details; I don't expect to just walk back in and take a seat like you're some piece of furniture - I don't expect you to fall blindly for me like you did before - you're older and wiser than that now, and me, well I'm just the same aren't I? I don't expect anything more from you than a conversation; we parted ways so quickly a great many things were left unresolved - please eat by the way, its on the house and the chef will be offended if you don't." Andrew watched Leslie, reading her body language and her expressions; drawing conclusions and trying to work out how best to proceed - honesty was still the best policy but it was how to word it that mattered here. "Please just hear me out for this one conversation and at the end - at the end we'll see. But I attach no strings to this - to any of this." |
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| Cameron Comorraza | Jan 12 2014, 03:44 PM Post #6 |
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"People with feelings are dangerous," She said wistfully, paying more attention to the lock of hair she was twirling around her finger then the man that was talking to her. The way he kept talking to her like she wasn't even on the same planet as him was rubbing her the wrong way, the imaginary friction flushing her cheeks as her temper briefly boiled over and she slapped her hand down on the table, lifting a sharp gaze up to his, "Stop fucking talking to me like I don't have a clue." She whispered this, holding his gaze for a few more moments before looking way. She wasn't some kind of scholar on vampiric history or anything, but she wasn't as ignorant as he seemed to think she was. Shit, he should have known when she'd guessed what he actually was, lineage and sect in all, when he'd dropped this fucking bomb on her in the first place. But it wasn't like she was a branded Ravnos chewtoy either. She hadn't been for a long time. Sighing, Leslie's eyes widened some as the regal tray was set before her with probably the prettiest cheeseburger she'd ever seen sitting pretty in the center of it, with a mote of perfectly seasoned french fries surrounding it. Ketchup decoratively garnished the plate, and someone had even gone through the trouble of making a milkshake to go with it. As nostalgic as this meal should've been, taking her back to late nights with her long string of boyfriends in a dingy Brooklyn diners, it seemed impossible when the burger probably cost as much as her shoes. He kept talking as she simply stared at it, her eyes flitting between him and the burger, almost scared to eat it because it looked so perfect. So she was older and wiser now? He understood that she wasn't as apt to fall head over heels for anyone, let alone him? All he wanted as a conversation? Yeah fucking right. If she had a dollar for everytime a guy said that all he wanted was to talk, she wouldn't have had to take one single piece of clothing off her body in her entire career and she'd still have as much money as she did now. She probably wouldn't have her boys either though, reminding herself of their sweet faces. He reminded her to eat, the thought of her children enough to knock her off her high horse and shut the fuck up as she gave the superb piece of a meat a daunted glance, not quite sure where to start. Sitting up and leaning forward, she'd settled with picking at the french fries, smearing the once pretty red garnish across the plate with little care for the attention to detail that was put into her meal as she popped the crisp potato in her mouth. It was enough to make her cave, and build up the courage to try and eat this burger without making a mess of herself. Picking it up, she tried to ignore the fact that he was watching her intently, as she sunk her teeth into it and practically died inside from the flavor overtaking her mouth. All she could do was nod to him, refusing to put it down as he asked her to hear him out. She hated how good he was at pleasing her. It made it that much harder to stay pissed at him. He didn't have to put this delicious cut of red meat on a bun in front of her, or practically carry her out of the bar to his car. Even if she hadn't wanted to eat, he would've done something to coax her into it, and he always made sure she got home safely. He had a knack for making her feel like the most selfish bitch on the face of the Earth. After three bites, she finally sat the burger down and took a sip of her milkshake. He remembered strawberry was her favorite? She couldn't let him get under her skin again... She just couldn't. Her eyes found his again, licking her lips and sitting back, trying not to inhale everything in front of her. She'd humor him, at least, but she wasn't quite sure what there was left to talk about, "Resolve away, then," She gave him an expectant look as she took another sip of her milkshake. |
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| Andrew Cutting | Jan 12 2014, 04:31 PM Post #7 |
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She was a combination of drunk and pissed off and Andrew wasn't surprised given their past and the turn the night had taken. Not only that but he'd torn her away from her latest dangerous infatuation with the wrong sort of man, something which he'd found surprisingly easy given who that man was. She could be so damned temperamental and worse, irrational; she floated like a leaf on the wind through life and didn't seem to care about where she ended up. Andrew was the polar opposite, he planned everything and considered every facet of every detail before stepping forward; she could just walk out of the door in the morning, he had a thousand and one things to think about whenever he stepped out of his haven. Not only that but unlike Andrew she still didn't really know what she wanted, that much was clear by how she acted; it wasn't necessarily a bad thing, she was still younger than he had been at the point of his embrace - she had time to figure it out and enough money that she didn't really need to worry about it. Watching her eat reminded him of the 'good old days' of their whirlwind romance; despite his age and his achievements he didn't have the freedom he had now back then and that was one of the reasons it hadn't worked out. Now though he was a free agent working for the Family on his own terms, hell he was practically the next in line to join the inner circle and run the whole show and that meant he could do and consort with whomever he chose and now that he met her again he realised that he'd like that person to be Leslie. "Did I really make you that unhappy, Leslie? Did I really hurt you that much? I tried to do what was best for you... for us; we didn't have to part ways, we could have endured - we could have tried. I could have tried to chase you, but it never would have worked that way - I would have pushed you further away, better to leave you alone and live in hope that chance would bring us together again." |
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| Cameron Comorraza | Jan 12 2014, 09:05 PM Post #8 |
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"Well, isn't it your lucky night," She started, setting her milkshake down and averting her eyes as she dipped more of her fries in her ketchup, "Hope and Chance are both working in your favor tonight, aren't they?" It was almost too coincidental to be a coincidence. She'd been going to that bar he'd intercepted her at every thursday night for the month and a half that she'd been in town, and never once did she lay eyes on Andrew or Angelo, so where the fuck did they come from? Was this all some kind of carefully constructed trap she'd fallen into? She looked down at the ridges and waves she'd artfully crafted using just a french fry and a measly blob of processed tomato sauce before eating said french fry and taking another bite of her burger. The longer she kept her mouth full, the longer she had to think everything he'd just said through and not answer him. She couldn't wrap her mind around what it was about her that enticed him so much. He was supposed to want some pretty little blonde thing hanging off his arm, like that stupid little bitch...God, what was her name... Clara? No, that was too pretty for that twat. Corrine? Too title-deserving. Car...rey? Carey. Yes, that desperate little thing she'd had the unfortunate pleasure of getting rid of for good. Goddamn... That night, was such a clusterfuck. Why would he find anything worth being drawn to out of her in that night. She'd just shown up there to find something rich to fuck. She wasn't looking for the love of her life or a bunch of bullshit from stupid little girl. For having killed someone, she didn't really show any remorse for it. If anything, she saw it as a public service. Sauce dripped from the bun down the side of her hand to her wrist. Without a second thought, she was licking it off with burger still in hand before she realized she was basically making food porn from across the table and he was still watching her intently. Her eyes locked with his, chewing with her mouth closed, fighting to swallow. When she was finished she shrugged her shoulders, "What?" She asked with all the attitude in the world, as if he were staring at a piece of broccoli stuck between her teeth or something. Wiping her mouth with a napkin, she took a deep breath, not quite sure where to start. "Yes, you made me unhappy. Yes, you hurt me. You terrified me, actually. Not that you're the one that left me stuck in a sidewalk for four hours screaming until I couldn't scream anymore." She lifted her chin and crossed her arms beneath her chest, not fond of recalling the memory, "But that's the first thing that came to mind when you told me..." having already almost let 'Ravnos' slip, she was careful to cut herself off before the blurted out the word which was never to be said, "What you are." She finished that thought and moved onto the next one, finding other things to look at besides him, "You kept a HUGE fucking secret from me, and picked the worst time in the world to tell me the truth." She shook her head, "I mean, really Andrew? Let's wait until fucking Valentine's Day to tell the 'love of your life' that your fucking DE-ARGH!" She threw up her hands in exasperation, wishing she could just storm away like she did the last time. If she did that though, he'd just follow her this time, and then nowhere would be safe. "We did have to part ways, because I was so unbelievably angry at you," She could feel it begin to burn her cheeks, beginning to sober up much faster than she wanted to, "For being what you are, for not telling me, for making me feel like a fucking puppet again!" She finally looked at him, "I know I'm selfish, and I'm a bitch, and I'm stupid for pushing you away, but I can't be in a real relationship anymore, let alone in one with..." She sighed, "You." |
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| Andrew Cutting | Jan 12 2014, 09:44 PM Post #9 |
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She was finally opening up to him again, but she wasn't saying what he wanted to hear - which paradoxically was precisely what he wanted to hear; he needed to know the why of it and now he started to understand. He knew he wasn't the first man in her life but until now he'd not realised that he wasn't the first kindred either - it wasn't something a mortal spread around if they wanted to remain alive mind so he couldn't say he was angry that she hadn't told him. In any event it clearly hadn't ended well which was probably why she was working so damned hard to push him away, working under that typical mortal assumption that all kindred were the same to some degree. He leaned back and held up his hands as a gesture of placation; he wasn't judging her, how could he? If he applied his cold logical mind and traditionalist values to do so he was basically condemning her as nothing more than a dime whore who'd somehow made it big and he simply could not bring himself to do that to her. There was more to her than that, something in her spirit which told him to just not care about the miles of porn and hours of scandalous behaviour that was available for viewing on the internet. "For some reason they have. I don't know why, I general don't believe in such things and I certainly didn't deserve it; but for some reason we crossed paths tonight. Chance is all it was, I assure you - when you left and made it clear you wanted me gone, well I respected your wishes and that was that. I couldn't believe it when I walked into that bar and saw you." He broke his gaze away from hers and quickly scanned the room, if only to give him something else to look at for a while so that she didn't feel so scrutinised. "But please, tell me, when should I have told you? On day one, when if you'd rejected me I would have had to... well it seems you know well what I would have had to do. I don't pretend that it was entirely for your benefit but I am honest when I say that there was no 'right' time to tell you. We had met, we had gotten involved with one another, what else could I do but tell you and hope?" |
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| Cameron Comorraza | Jan 13 2014, 08:56 PM Post #10 |
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"I don't know," She said quietly, having been checkmated. Despite how tricked she felt then, he really had no other choice. She knew how making that kind of a decision felt. She hadn't seen her own children in... God, how sad was it that she couldn't remember the last time she'd seen her children? What was worse was that they had no idea she was even still alive. She wasn't even dead like he was, but she was living her life like she was. In the grand scheme of things, she'd learned a long time ago that no matter what condition of living you were in, it was all just a charade to cover up something else. Hope. Hope was such a fickle fucking thing these days. It wasn't consistent, reliable, or even achievable half the time. He was how old and still have hope and love a chance? She gave him props for holding onto that little shred of humanity this long, because she'd given up on that a long time ago too. "A part of me wishes you had told me at the beginning," her eyes were cast down as she took a solemn sip of her milkshake. They both knew how that would have ended, considering the predicament they were in now, "It would've saved us all the trouble." |
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| Andrew Cutting | Jan 13 2014, 09:44 PM Post #11 |
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Andrew sighed, he could understand why Leslie felt the way she did but at the same time he recognised his own predicament. It was a catch 22 situation, damned if you do and damned if you don't - of course if he'd known when he'd met her that she already knew about his kind and the Masquerade everything would have been a lot easier and he could have been straight with her. But that was the wonderful thing about hindsight wasn't it, it shows you the perfect road that you should have taken just at the point when its no longer possible; but he knew that even back then he was in no position to take the more desirable path. No he just wasn't one who was capable of laying his cards on the table, back then he'd still been partially suspicious of Leslie, like she was too good to be true. Only once she was gone did he realise just how real she was. Thinking about it he knew that had he told her at the start he would have had to lure her away from the festivities and the quietly broken her neck; she would have been a liability otherwise, she was anyway but at least having made the decisions he had made she wasn't the kind of liability that had to end up dead. Knowing her as he came to know her he didn't think he could face it; anyone else on the planet and he'd be able to ram a blade through their heart, put a bullet in their brain or nail out for the sun - even members of his own Family if he had to, but not her. Why? Why couldn't he do that? He'd killed traitors and friends alike without remorse or a second thought in the past, he'd even used his protege and left him for dead in an effort to flee LA intact... he'd even disposed of his faithful ghoul manservant Benjamin, though admittedly with a degree of respect and sentimentality, a dual stabbing through the brain and heart from behind. All that just for a clean break, to get ahead, to prove himself and reaffirm himself in his own mind. The slayings of his nearest and dearest had hardened him, not that he needed much hardening since most assessments of his mentality indicated severe sociopathy and psychopathy as well as significant disassociative disorder; but for all that Leslie still made him feel. Not a shallow facsimile of emotion one might display as a means of hiding one's true intent, or to fit in; she made him genuinely feel real emotions which he hadn't truly felt in years. So here they were, both admitting they were stuck, both realising the predicament of the other. Two dangerous people sitting across from each other, involved in a most dangerous story, the plot of which was still unfolding; even as he tried to predict its outcome he knew that he couldn't - in this there was something that he could not control, the variables were left out of his hands and he could not rig the deck - not because he lacked the ability, but because he chose not to. Leslie would never understand that, or accept it, or at least he didn't think she would - she claimed that she could tell when her mind was being played but she'd never been a target of Andrew's relentless, ruthless and meticulous subtlety; the manipulation he practiced was only partially down to his disciplines, the rest was all... charm? No that was the wrong word, and so was charisma. He'd have to go for subterfuge. Bringing his fingertips together in front of him and placing his hands down on the table he looked at Leslie directly, the kind of person to person look which shows that there's no bullshit going on, the kind of look that is only experienced when one person is truly engaging another. "Anything would have been easier than this, less, ah, troubling. But then had anything happened we wouldn't be sitting here now, like this. I'm sorry - for deceiving you, for everything... I couldn't help it any more than I can help being what I am. But even so that doesn't mean that I'm not genuinely sorry. If it could have happened any other way, any other way I would have done it that way, but I couldn't bring myself to be that cold and callous, not with you." "I don't expect you to come back to be just like that." He clicked his fingers to emphasise the point and continued the conversation seemlessly. "Goodness, I don't even expect you to take my advice with regards to Mr Matachelli. But I will ask you nonetheless. Will you forgive me for the lies, will you come back and be by my side? As an equal this time. You're far too clever and beautiful to be just arm candy. You mean too much. I ask nothing else of you, not love, not sex, not blood, not money, not control. A partnership. What do you think?" |
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| Cameron Comorraza | Jan 13 2014, 11:07 PM Post #12 |
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She listened intently, nodding as he spoke. She didn't want things to be like this. She didn't want to be sitting across from him stewing in vodka and all these stupid fucking feelings she'd shoved in the closet and forgot about years ago. She didn't want to be afraid of him, or angry at him, or wary of him. She didn't even want to feel sorry for what she'd put him through leaving the way she did, because it would've been five billion fucking times easier to just walk away from all this right fucking now before he said what she could already tell was coming. "Oh, well that's good," She said shortly, rolling her eyes at the mention of Angelo. That he was still being brought up only made it that much more obvious to her that he was more than just a little jealous of all the attention she gave to the man instead of him. But what came out of his mouth next actually managed to stun her. Partners? Seriously? Leslie couldn't help but laugh, "Doing what?" she asked incredulously. She couldn't ever imagine him wanting anything to do with any of her businesses, so what in the hell did he have in mind? "I don't know the first thing about anything you do; I've hired people to do that for me. So what are you going to do? Star in my next shoot? Because beyond that, I'd still just be arm candy." |
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| Andrew Cutting | Jan 13 2014, 11:52 PM Post #13 |
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"Forgive me, I don't mean a literal business partnership. Your line of work is quite different from mine and while I could probably help in a purely financial manner I have not the acumen when it comes to the particulars of what you do to be an effective partner in that regard." He adjusted his tie and shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable at the notion which still screamed against 19th century sensibilities. "If I wanted to talk business I'd wait until a more appropriate time and do so formally; no what I mean is a partnership in life. No marriage, no strings, just companionship and if you decide you want to take it further, in the future, then we can. If not then fine - I don't know if you noticed but I have a great deal of patience when it comes to such things." |
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| Cameron Comorraza | Jan 14 2014, 12:15 AM Post #14 |
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"Ahh," She said with an enlightened tone. Despite how awkward and annoying this whole encounter had been, watching him squirm with discomfort from the topic at hand was kind of cute. She'd made a hobby out of making him uncomfortable with her crass behavior in the past, because it was worth seeing how much he still loved her despite embarrassing him so much. She quickly wiped the smile that was beginning to creep up and tug at the corners of her mouth before he'd notice it though. She had to hold her ground here. Stick to her guns. Something like that. Partnership. Marriage. Strings. Companionship. Patience. Those were the only words that she heard. Despite his proposition being almost the exact opposite of what those words suggested, she couldn't help be hate hearing them all in the same goddamn sentence. It was obvious it made her uncomfortable, breaking eye contact with him and opting to stuff her face again so she didn't have to talk. She took a bite of her burger, not caring if he knew what she was doing. This was fucking awkward. What were you supposed to say to that? Sorry, let me call you back and let you know? She set the burger back down, her stomach suddenly not appreciative of her attempts to eat at all given the current status it was in, ready to jump in her throat with all the stress she was feeling. She swallowed, wanting to look anywhere but at him and sucking in a breath, "I'm well aware," She started, taking the last sip of her milkshake until there was nothing left to suck through the straw, "Let me sleep on it?" She asked warily, suddenly sounding so tired. Tired of this, tired of that. Tired physically, mentally, and emotionally. |
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| Andrew Cutting | Jan 14 2014, 12:52 PM Post #15 |
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As Leslie finished her milkshake Andrew thought on there encounter so far - it had gone better than one might anticipate given how suddenly it was sprung upon the pair of them and at least they had managed to sit down like civilised individuals and talk without entering some sort of barbaric shouting match. It was impressive, to a degree, and comforting - it meant that she, like he, did not want to end this hating one another. So he sat and listened, and waited and thought; she wanted time to think, to 'sleep on it', that was fine he had time, and what was another night or two in the scheme of things - it wasn't as though she'd wither away in the blinking of an eye. "Very well, you need time to think - I can understand that. You're under no obligation to decide right away, nor are you under any sort of obligation to me. All of this..." He waved his hand at the burger, the milkshake, the restaurant and the space around them. "Is my choice. My decision. My mind is made up all I wait on is for you to make up yours and whichever way you decide I will accept, you have my word... Now, would you like me to arrange for a ride home, or would you prefer to stay somewhere closer? I'm sure this has you quite exhausted." |
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| Cameron Comorraza | Jan 15 2014, 11:17 PM Post #16 |
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"Okay." Was all she said, letting her eyes fall back down to her lap. She dug her phone out of her purse, fiddling with it and attempting to google phone numbers for cab companies in Detroit. She wasn't sure what else to say, beyond nodding to his mention of being exhausted and ignoring him for a couple of minutes while she tried and failed to operate the testy piece of technology in her hands, "I think I can manage on my own, thank you." She didn't say this with an attitude as she had been all evening long, but instead fairly politely. Leslie began to operate on auto-pilot, mindlessly gathering her things as she continued to tune him out and avoid rejecting any more offers of his help. While it was mildly annoying, him wanting to wait on her hand and foot, it was his way of showing affection without being affectionate. He was respecting her, that much she appreciated, but she didn't want his help, or his attention, or his kindness. Getting to her feet, she had far better balance now then she did when they'd first arrived, but she was still shaky as she shrugged into her denim jean jacket and bent over to drag her purse across the seat and hooked her arm through it. She'd see herself out, and walk, even if she didn't exactly know where she was going. Dialing a number and lifting the phone to her ear, she stopped beside Andrew where he sat and leaned down, whispering "Thank you," in his ear and pressing a chaste kiss against his cheek. Her hand fell on his shoulder then, her fingertips drifting lightly across it as she just as quickly righted her posture and continued on her way out of the restaurant... At least she hoped this was the way out of the restaurant. |
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| Andrew Cutting | Jan 16 2014, 05:25 PM Post #17 |
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Toreador Primogen
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He let her go, well of course he let her go; he couldn't very well stop her without risking a scene or doing something he'd always refused to do to her - use his disciplines. In a sense he didn't want her to go, but at the same time he did; leaving was her choice and he wanted her to choose, not have things chosen for her. It was strange, ordinarily he was a typical conservative, believing that most people needed to have the more important decisions made for them by someone with the experience and capability to make those decision which of course was almost always himself - or at least it was to his mind. But occasionally there came along a person who had to make their own choices regardless and for whatever reason Leslie was one of those people. He knew the in all likelihood he'd not see her again, he knew she'd run straight to Angelo looking for an easy good time where she wasn't required to think; maybe he was being too cynical and too critical of her ability to make decisions - but somehow he just knew. He'd known Leslie long enough, done enough thinking about her to be able to predict her actions; there were few secrets that people could keep from Sir Andrew Cutting once they had entered into his immediate surroundings. But he would leave it there as prediction and suspicion and nothing more; he was not about to start wasting resources tracking down some... foolish woman who though more with her loins than most men did. Now there was the real Andrew Cutting seeping through again, as Leslie's presence started to wear off - the analytical and uncompromising approach which told him plainly and in logical terms what it was that he should do with regards to Leslie - it wasn't pretty but... Andrew recoiled in horror at his own callousness - why? Why did he recoil, that was a purely human reaction, logic told him he needed to act to remove her as a liability one way or the other and yet petty, unimportant sentiment made him reel back. There were only two options that Andrew's cold and calculating mind could present which would be deemed acceptable, either force Leslie to come with him against her will, or kill her. That was it. Yet Andrew could bring himself to choose neither - damn him for his humanity; one of the great drawbacks of his bloodline was that balancing act with which one was presented every now and again, either act humanely and suffer the consequences, or act like a monster and lose a shred of yourself to the Beast. |
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