"Amen." Marty toasted Ben's fantasy with a half-hearted grin. His gaze, however, managed to find Fiona Mureinn once more, who was indeed having herself a right good time on the other side of the room. She was chatting up some sheik with a smile on her face, as though she hadn't shot a man not two hours earlier. It was unnerving, seeing the Irish mobster attend public affairs with such ease and grace, and at the same time be so painfully aware of her line of work. If the patrons near the woman felt this, however, they didn't show it. Smart move. No one wanted to be on the wrong side of Lady Luck.
Judging by Ben's drifting gaze, it seemed as though the conversation concerning his and Jo's third scrape with death was over, and Marty was happy to oblige. Sighing, he finally took a sip of his wine, which, incidentally, was indeed good wine.
"Polina? Oh yeah, she's here, alright. Just talked to her, actually." He nodded, turning slightly to scan the room for the blonde copper. Marty turned back again, shrugging as he took another healthy swig of wine. (It really was excellent wine.) This proved to be a mistake, however, as Ben so conveniently mentioned the fact that Polina had been inside the Waldorf when it was aflame just as he was swallowing.
"What?" Marty spluttered, nearly choking on his drink. “Polina was at the Waldorf?”
He turned once more, this time managing to locate her, talking to a fellow officer. Marty frowned, examining her more closely now. His panic was stifled somewhat once he confirmed that she wasn’t visibly injured, but that didn’t eliminate the fact that she’d entered a burning building. Really, how idiotic could she get? Who did she think she was, a cop?
But Polina was a cop. It was a truth that Marty hated facing. Sure, he was proud of her and all, and her putting herself in danger to save others was noble and all, but that didn’t excuse her putting herself in danger in the first place.
Marty turned back to Ben, still more than a little bit disgruntled. There was still the possibility that Polina hadn’t actually been inside the burning building, that she’d just arrived with a backup crew. Knowing his sister, it was a long shot, but still possible.
“She didn’t do anything…stupid, did she?” Marty finally asked Ben, slightly afraid of the answer.
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This topic is an In Character part of the roleplay, “The Life Noir”. Anything posted here will also show up there.
The Life Noir » OOC » The Life Noir
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Re: The Life Noir ( )
by imogen_22 on Thu Jun 18, 2009 7:23 am
Live, love, laugh
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imogen_22 - Member for 4 years
Re: The Life Noir ( )
by whiteangel on Thu Jun 18, 2009 8:27 am
Dorothy shook her head ruefully at Charlie's comment about Hugh, and let her eyes scan the dance floor to see who indeed her good friend was holding in his arms. She could have assumed that it would be the spunky dame with the gorgeous curls (that Dorothy had been mildly envious of on more than one occasion). It wasn't in her character to be spiteful, bit Dorothy still couldn't help feeling a but of friction towards the woman whose kissing of Ben (which evidently never happened) sent her relationship with the newshawk into a downward spiral.
It wasn't that she still held a flame for Ben, though seeing him would undoubtedly cause her heart to constrict painfully, but her impression of the female journalist made Dorothy wary of her connection with Hugh. From her late night conversations with Hugh, it didn't seem that he was very clear on the definition of their relationship either.
If only everyone could be as fortunate as she was; being swept around the dance floor by someone who was feeling more and more like her better half with each passing day. She let her concerns about Hugh and Jo evaporate as she was dipped low. After laughing -because indeed dancing with Charlie was a great deal of fun- she straightened, and responded to his question.
"Yes, I'm ready. It's never hard to be ready to sing. I'm just not sure I'll be ready to stop, you know?" Dorothy looked toward the stage as she and Charlie pressed close to execute a few twists and turns. As he spun her back around, she re aligned her gaze to meet his. She knew she was making the right decision. Couldn't be more sure of it. But it was still sad, "I'm just glad that I'll have you there for me when I'm done."
She winked then, hoping to push off the heavy feelings until the last possible moment, and leaned up to whisper near his ear, "Do you think I could come home with you tonight? It would be terribly hard to be alone at the end of this, after all. I can sleep on your couch." Then she pulled back, and fixed him with a doe eyed, pleading expression. She was sure that as payback he'd fix her with a similar expression at some point in the near future.
It wasn't that she still held a flame for Ben, though seeing him would undoubtedly cause her heart to constrict painfully, but her impression of the female journalist made Dorothy wary of her connection with Hugh. From her late night conversations with Hugh, it didn't seem that he was very clear on the definition of their relationship either.
If only everyone could be as fortunate as she was; being swept around the dance floor by someone who was feeling more and more like her better half with each passing day. She let her concerns about Hugh and Jo evaporate as she was dipped low. After laughing -because indeed dancing with Charlie was a great deal of fun- she straightened, and responded to his question.
"Yes, I'm ready. It's never hard to be ready to sing. I'm just not sure I'll be ready to stop, you know?" Dorothy looked toward the stage as she and Charlie pressed close to execute a few twists and turns. As he spun her back around, she re aligned her gaze to meet his. She knew she was making the right decision. Couldn't be more sure of it. But it was still sad, "I'm just glad that I'll have you there for me when I'm done."
She winked then, hoping to push off the heavy feelings until the last possible moment, and leaned up to whisper near his ear, "Do you think I could come home with you tonight? It would be terribly hard to be alone at the end of this, after all. I can sleep on your couch." Then she pulled back, and fixed him with a doe eyed, pleading expression. She was sure that as payback he'd fix her with a similar expression at some point in the near future.
Last edited by whiteangel on Thu Jun 18, 2009 12:29 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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whiteangel - Member for 4 years
Re: The Life Noir ( )
by Jadeling Hawkins on Thu Jun 18, 2009 12:22 pm
Charlie nodded in silence as he listened to Dorothy's musings on her last stand on the stage. His eyes flickered over her familiar, soft features as he studied the emotions passing over her face. It had certainly taken him by surprise when she had first told him about her plans to abandon the speakeasy scene...but it had also been a massive relief. He always worried, after all, when he knew she was down in some hole, swaying her hips and crooning in that tantalizing voice in front of the dregs of society. She had nearly been killed...another flapper gone to the strangler's hands...because of that job. But he'd held his anxious peace, because she'd told him that she loved it. And he loved her; he didn't have the heart to insist that she step away from something that gave her joy. But now she'd decided to do it on her own--
Charlie was unexpectedly caught in a full-on blast of those murderously green eyes, large and moist and so close they nearly tripped him on the dance floor. That was hardly fair! As if she'd ever have to twist his arm to get permission to spend the night at his place! Sometimes Charlie believed that his sweet, precious dame only did these things to torture him, to give him thoughts and images to keep him tossing and turning and suffering through the night. And other times he was certain of it.
Knowing full well that the full effect of Dorothy's look and question was showing as plain as the noon sun on his face, the Shamus still decided to make a stab at being suave. "Well, sweetheart, I'd feel like a real pill if I made ya go home by yourself aftah such a tryin' night. I guess maybe ya could come back with me ta my place, when you're all finished up heah...Maybe if ya sing real sweet I might even let ya sleep in the bed. That couch is kinda stiff, ya know..."
Feeling partially redeemed in his manliness, Charlie swept his girl around in a wide arc and waggled his brow teasingly. His main concern at the moment was Dorothy, and getting her through what he was sure would be a difficult evening so they could end it with a pleasing night. But there was a lingering concern in the back of his mind that had as little to do with Dorothy as he could possibly afford. He had a meeting he'd been invited to attend...a meeting about Artie King. About Artie King's corruption.
Maybe, Charlie mused for perhaps the thousandth time since first receiving the invitation, Maybe he'd do better not to go? After all, this whole place was stuffed to the gills with coppers. Maybe it was a trap, to make sure he wasn't going to go flapping his gums to the first bum that would listen to him. Maybe he should just leave well enough alone...wait until Artie had gotten the cling of Charlie's badge ringing into his trash bin out of his head.
Or maybe it was something real, and he should seize upon the opportunity.
Just like all the other times he'd wondered, Charlie reached that final conclusion. So he smiled, and held his girl closer, and relished in the warmth and the smell of her. She'd be up on her last stage soon, and he was going to need every last comforting drop of her presence before he stuck his foot in what might turn out to be a bear trap.
"But ya know...you ain't done singin', sweetheart. I'll still want ta heah that orchid you call a voice in action. Every chance I get, ya follow me?" Charlie smiled. He was thinking, secretly, about a conversation he'd had with Dorothy's father, Sam. The shy farmer had explained the Charlie that Dorothy, in her youth, had sung to those she'd loved. Sung them through the day, standing on a wooden stage Sam had constructed for her. Sam had also admonished Charlie to always give Dorothy a reason to sing...and Charlie was determined to do just that.
Charlie was unexpectedly caught in a full-on blast of those murderously green eyes, large and moist and so close they nearly tripped him on the dance floor. That was hardly fair! As if she'd ever have to twist his arm to get permission to spend the night at his place! Sometimes Charlie believed that his sweet, precious dame only did these things to torture him, to give him thoughts and images to keep him tossing and turning and suffering through the night. And other times he was certain of it.
Knowing full well that the full effect of Dorothy's look and question was showing as plain as the noon sun on his face, the Shamus still decided to make a stab at being suave. "Well, sweetheart, I'd feel like a real pill if I made ya go home by yourself aftah such a tryin' night. I guess maybe ya could come back with me ta my place, when you're all finished up heah...Maybe if ya sing real sweet I might even let ya sleep in the bed. That couch is kinda stiff, ya know..."
Feeling partially redeemed in his manliness, Charlie swept his girl around in a wide arc and waggled his brow teasingly. His main concern at the moment was Dorothy, and getting her through what he was sure would be a difficult evening so they could end it with a pleasing night. But there was a lingering concern in the back of his mind that had as little to do with Dorothy as he could possibly afford. He had a meeting he'd been invited to attend...a meeting about Artie King. About Artie King's corruption.
Maybe, Charlie mused for perhaps the thousandth time since first receiving the invitation, Maybe he'd do better not to go? After all, this whole place was stuffed to the gills with coppers. Maybe it was a trap, to make sure he wasn't going to go flapping his gums to the first bum that would listen to him. Maybe he should just leave well enough alone...wait until Artie had gotten the cling of Charlie's badge ringing into his trash bin out of his head.
Or maybe it was something real, and he should seize upon the opportunity.
Just like all the other times he'd wondered, Charlie reached that final conclusion. So he smiled, and held his girl closer, and relished in the warmth and the smell of her. She'd be up on her last stage soon, and he was going to need every last comforting drop of her presence before he stuck his foot in what might turn out to be a bear trap.
"But ya know...you ain't done singin', sweetheart. I'll still want ta heah that orchid you call a voice in action. Every chance I get, ya follow me?" Charlie smiled. He was thinking, secretly, about a conversation he'd had with Dorothy's father, Sam. The shy farmer had explained the Charlie that Dorothy, in her youth, had sung to those she'd loved. Sung them through the day, standing on a wooden stage Sam had constructed for her. Sam had also admonished Charlie to always give Dorothy a reason to sing...and Charlie was determined to do just that.
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Jadeling Hawkins - Member for 5 years
Re: The Life Noir ( )
by NorthernSoul on Thu Jun 18, 2009 3:35 pm
"Huh?" said Ben clapping Marty on the back as he spluttered on his wine. "Er- No. Nah, she was just there with a few other cops afterwards..." he lied hastily. After all, if he were in Marty's place and Missy in Polina's, he wouldn't want to know that she was doing anything as stupid as jumping through walls of flame to save the lives of a couple of news-hawks.
Through a brief gap in the milling crowd, there was a flash of auburn and the sight of Jo being whirled past in the arms of her blonde giant.
If Marty's sister was here, there'd be other cops here too. And other cops meant, unfortunately, Wallenstein. Whoever was doing the singing gig at this ball would be on soon and the floor would be packed with dancers; all eyes would be on stage. The perfect time for he and Jo to do their little piece of detective work, and have it all done before dessert was served.
"Hey, Marty, why don't you go and find that blue of yours? The canary's about to go on and we could use the distraction to get out of the ball room without anyone noticing. I'll meet you over there behind that... boat, whatever the hell that is," he added, pointing over the gondola in the corner. "Lemme just go and break up the hoe-down..."
With that, he drank the dregs of the red wine in his glass and left Marty to find Wallenstein. There had been a lull in the music as the band wound down in preparation for its singer to make his or her first appearance of the evening and Ben quickly spotted the the red-headed reporter in a sea of dancing couples. She was clinging to the much taller Hugh like a tree in a storm. The man was built like a tree too, Ben thought as he wound his way across the dance floor. If Ben, lean and tall, was a birch, then Farmboy, half as wide again and even taller, was a damn giant redwood.
"Hey, Levard-" Here, he very almost said 'Farmboy' but managed to stop himself just in time; the mac had done nothing to him, after all. "Hugh, mind if I step in for the next drag? Before Levard gets too comfy..."
Through a brief gap in the milling crowd, there was a flash of auburn and the sight of Jo being whirled past in the arms of her blonde giant.
If Marty's sister was here, there'd be other cops here too. And other cops meant, unfortunately, Wallenstein. Whoever was doing the singing gig at this ball would be on soon and the floor would be packed with dancers; all eyes would be on stage. The perfect time for he and Jo to do their little piece of detective work, and have it all done before dessert was served.
"Hey, Marty, why don't you go and find that blue of yours? The canary's about to go on and we could use the distraction to get out of the ball room without anyone noticing. I'll meet you over there behind that... boat, whatever the hell that is," he added, pointing over the gondola in the corner. "Lemme just go and break up the hoe-down..."
With that, he drank the dregs of the red wine in his glass and left Marty to find Wallenstein. There had been a lull in the music as the band wound down in preparation for its singer to make his or her first appearance of the evening and Ben quickly spotted the the red-headed reporter in a sea of dancing couples. She was clinging to the much taller Hugh like a tree in a storm. The man was built like a tree too, Ben thought as he wound his way across the dance floor. If Ben, lean and tall, was a birch, then Farmboy, half as wide again and even taller, was a damn giant redwood.
"Hey, Levard-" Here, he very almost said 'Farmboy' but managed to stop himself just in time; the mac had done nothing to him, after all. "Hugh, mind if I step in for the next drag? Before Levard gets too comfy..."
The Murmuration
mur·mur·a·tion
–noun
1. an act or instance of murmuring.
2. a flock of starlings.
Origin:
1350–1400; Middle English < Latin murmurātiōn- (stem of murmurātiō ).
mur·mur·a·tion
–noun
1. an act or instance of murmuring.
2. a flock of starlings.
Origin:
1350–1400; Middle English < Latin murmurātiōn- (stem of murmurātiō ).
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NorthernSoul - Member for 5 years
Re: The Life Noir ( )
by Walter Barrecks on Thu Jun 18, 2009 5:37 pm
It was the night of the ball, and Remy had failed to prepare at all, other than purchase of his personal stash of hooch and booze. He planned on spiking the punch bowl with the ol' Cajun Charm, although, a whole bottle being dumped in would be too noticeable. A risk to be taken for the sake of comedy he supposed. There were two questions that lingered in his mind, the first and apparent was what in God's name was he gonna wear. It had to be slick, mysterious, and highly interesting. On the other hand, it had to be him. Maybe he would get Kitty to kiss his mask a couple times.
Nah, Fiona migh' not like dat. That also lingered on his mind. Was Fiona going to be there? The Cajun was akin to a certain party behavior, of which could get him in all sorts of trouble with his bosses. He just hoped that he didn't catch the eyes of several girls. "Wait a sec... Dat gives moi an idea. " He started digging through his belongings, finally withdrawing an odd looking piece of glass. "Ahh... Tres magnifique!" With that, he began the usual rush to do everything from cleaning, washing, and scrubbing to ironing, dressing, and eating.
---------------------
In through the doors of the Ballroom came one of the most peculiar and mysterious guests of the party. He remained completely in silence, addressing people with nothing more than hand signals and gestures. His clothing wasn't anything odd, the typical sleek and black pinstripe suit, accompanied with shiny loafers, and a raven dark fedora. The band around the hat was dark purple, matching the shirt under his coat, as well as the silk gloves he wore. His tie was a bit out of place, silver silk hanging from his neck.
Yes, colors chosen aside, the attire was nothing new. But his face, it lacked the common charisma of the other masks that were in use. A smooth layer of glass spanned across his face, and to his chin, forming half an oval. It was devoid of facial features, only evidence of having a nose and chin, but instead looked like it had been made by a psychiatrist. Symmetrical ink blots, two starting at the center of his forehead, and going into the sockets of his eyes. Two more were where mouth meets his cheeks, starting above his lips, and going below them. There was two little dots next to these on the cheeks.
When he ventured into the group, he still managed to be charming, regardless of the creepy masks hiding his identity. Nobody seemed to notice the bottle in his pocket. He pulled two dizzy looking Janes aside. "You wouldn't happen to know where I can find a Ms. Muirenn?"
Nah, Fiona migh' not like dat. That also lingered on his mind. Was Fiona going to be there? The Cajun was akin to a certain party behavior, of which could get him in all sorts of trouble with his bosses. He just hoped that he didn't catch the eyes of several girls. "Wait a sec... Dat gives moi an idea. " He started digging through his belongings, finally withdrawing an odd looking piece of glass. "Ahh... Tres magnifique!" With that, he began the usual rush to do everything from cleaning, washing, and scrubbing to ironing, dressing, and eating.
---------------------
In through the doors of the Ballroom came one of the most peculiar and mysterious guests of the party. He remained completely in silence, addressing people with nothing more than hand signals and gestures. His clothing wasn't anything odd, the typical sleek and black pinstripe suit, accompanied with shiny loafers, and a raven dark fedora. The band around the hat was dark purple, matching the shirt under his coat, as well as the silk gloves he wore. His tie was a bit out of place, silver silk hanging from his neck.
Yes, colors chosen aside, the attire was nothing new. But his face, it lacked the common charisma of the other masks that were in use. A smooth layer of glass spanned across his face, and to his chin, forming half an oval. It was devoid of facial features, only evidence of having a nose and chin, but instead looked like it had been made by a psychiatrist. Symmetrical ink blots, two starting at the center of his forehead, and going into the sockets of his eyes. Two more were where mouth meets his cheeks, starting above his lips, and going below them. There was two little dots next to these on the cheeks.
When he ventured into the group, he still managed to be charming, regardless of the creepy masks hiding his identity. Nobody seemed to notice the bottle in his pocket. He pulled two dizzy looking Janes aside. "You wouldn't happen to know where I can find a Ms. Muirenn?"
Last edited by Walter Barrecks on Thu Jun 18, 2009 10:07 pm, edited 1 time in total.
"She called me late last night, to say she loved me so.
But I guess you changed her mind.
Well I should have known it wouldn't be all right,
But I can't live without her
So I won't even try...
And if I get drunk, then I'll pass out on the floor now baby.
Cause you won't bother me no more.
And if you're drinking, well you know that you're my friend and I say
I guess I'll have myself a beer."
Reel Big Fish- Beer
But I guess you changed her mind.
Well I should have known it wouldn't be all right,
But I can't live without her
So I won't even try...
And if I get drunk, then I'll pass out on the floor now baby.
Cause you won't bother me no more.
And if you're drinking, well you know that you're my friend and I say
I guess I'll have myself a beer."
Reel Big Fish- Beer
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Walter Barrecks - Member for 5 years
Re: The Life Noir ( )
by whiteangel on Thu Jun 18, 2009 9:36 pm
Even though the music was hopping, Dorothy slowed their dancing to a meaningful sway. She pressed close and reached to cup Charlie's handsome face in both of her gloved hands. She stroked his cheek tenderly, as he often did to comfort her, "Yes, I follow you." Dorothy promised, tipping upwards on her toes slightly to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. He'd have many more chances than tonight to hear her songs.
The stout man who'd ever so rudely shooed Dorothy and Hugh off the dance floor earlier somehow found her within the crowd, and took on a rather drastic change and spoke politely, "Pardon my interruption, sir. Miss, you'll be up shortly. May I accompany you to the stage?"
Dorothy smiled at the man before turning to bid Charlie a brief adieu, "I'll look for you, okay? I love you, Charlie." And with the smile that she reserved only for him, Dorothy turned away from Charlie in a flourish of red silk and made her way side stage. There was a brief introduction of the featured singer 'Miss Dorothy Byrd', and with a a style that felt natural, she up on the stage and stood behind the microphone. She smiled demurely, thanked all of the benefactors, men, and women who had made such gracious contributions in various forms to the great city of New York (as she'd been prompted to say).
She interrupted a brief and polite applause, "This first song goes out to a very special guy, whose heart will forever be my stage." And so her first song began.
The stout man who'd ever so rudely shooed Dorothy and Hugh off the dance floor earlier somehow found her within the crowd, and took on a rather drastic change and spoke politely, "Pardon my interruption, sir. Miss, you'll be up shortly. May I accompany you to the stage?"
Dorothy smiled at the man before turning to bid Charlie a brief adieu, "I'll look for you, okay? I love you, Charlie." And with the smile that she reserved only for him, Dorothy turned away from Charlie in a flourish of red silk and made her way side stage. There was a brief introduction of the featured singer 'Miss Dorothy Byrd', and with a a style that felt natural, she up on the stage and stood behind the microphone. She smiled demurely, thanked all of the benefactors, men, and women who had made such gracious contributions in various forms to the great city of New York (as she'd been prompted to say).
She interrupted a brief and polite applause, "This first song goes out to a very special guy, whose heart will forever be my stage." And so her first song began.
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whiteangel - Member for 4 years
Re: The Life Noir ( )
by Jadeling Hawkins on Thu Jun 18, 2009 11:57 pm
Jo had been just about to suggest that she and Hugh abandon the dance floor for a more private region of the Hall, but she very nearly rolled her eyes and demanded why she'd been forsaken when a familiar drawl interrupted her amorous thoughts. She hardly dared turn to look, but it was Ben, alright. Why he'd feel any need to interrupt her interactions with the farm boy was completely beyond her. Unless he was just doing it to annoy her. Which was entirely possible.
With a sigh, Jo patted one of Hugh's delightfully muscular arms as the band struck up what was likely to be its final song by itself. "Sorry, Hugh. Do you mind? I'll catch up with you later, then."
Jo stepped away from the fine piece of meat she'd met in the speakeasy, grabbed Ben's arm and dragged him a few couple's lengths away from Hugh. She pursed her lips, and resisted the urge to swat him upside the head. "This may come as a shock, Goldie, but I actually do need a break from you every now and then. You just pulled me away from my coffee break. You'd better have some real fine sinkers to make up for it!"
-------------------
The dames Remy had pulled to the side exchanged a look, their partial masks failing to conceal girlish grins. Whoever the fella was that was walking around like a charming little shadow wanted to see, of all people, that Irish piece of work that worked in 'real estate'. Of course he did!
"I think I saw her walking over...that way, there she is," The socialite to the right answered, pointing with her fan towards the dame in the cloudy dress. Fiona was standing over the best Valentino impersonation in the room, but as if she had sensed she were being mentioned, she looked up. Just as Dorothy Byrd was beginning her last stint on the stage, Fiona caught sight of a man decked out like a dark whisper, his face made unrecognizable by his unique mask. But his body, and the way he carried himself, so sure and swaggering and charismatic...Dorothy made her devotional, and Fiona's ruby lips parted in a quiet grin. One of the two dames that Remy was standing with gestured towards her, and she straightened from where she'd been almost leaning against Jack's back.
"Jackie Boy, I'll be back in a moment. There's something I have to do real quick..." Fiona removed her hands from Jack's shoulders, and winked at him as she moved away and onto the floor. She floated through the crowd, a white phantom strolling in between the twirling skirts and dipping suits, until she was about half of the distance away from the man in the obsidian fedora and strangely patterned glass mask. And then she stood, her hands folded patiently before herself as the many fluttering sheaves of her dress settled, and she waited.
--------------------
Charlie stood for some time where Dorothy had left him, a pearly-toothed grin flashing wide beneath his simple dark mask. Each saccharine tone from Dorothy's lips wrapped around through the room and soaked him in warmth. After a moment he regained the use of his legs, and managed to work over to an open seat, where he kept his smiling eyes on the rouge angel on the stage. Her words gave him a flood of confidence that he was sure he'd need throughout the night.
Charlie leaned back in his seat, a sure smile stretched across his face as he listened in on the song that had been dedicated to him, knowing that just about every fella in the joint was dreaming that it was them the stunning dame on the stage had been referring to.
---------------------
Jo blinked in surprise as the canary for the evening was announced. Of course. How could it, given the odd streak of luck that Levard and Goldberg Incorporated seemed to have, have possibly been anyone else? She instantly felt a touch guilty about snapping at Ben, even though she was pretty sure that Dorothy Byrd hadn't had anything to do with him pulling her away from Hugh. Doing her best to act as if she hadn't taken stock of the canary up on the stage, Jo sighed and tugged Ben's sleeve. "So what do you need, Goldie? Call me a Miss Grundy, but I'm pretty sure hell will be selling snow cones before you go out of your way just to ask me to dance."
With a sigh, Jo patted one of Hugh's delightfully muscular arms as the band struck up what was likely to be its final song by itself. "Sorry, Hugh. Do you mind? I'll catch up with you later, then."
Jo stepped away from the fine piece of meat she'd met in the speakeasy, grabbed Ben's arm and dragged him a few couple's lengths away from Hugh. She pursed her lips, and resisted the urge to swat him upside the head. "This may come as a shock, Goldie, but I actually do need a break from you every now and then. You just pulled me away from my coffee break. You'd better have some real fine sinkers to make up for it!"
-------------------
The dames Remy had pulled to the side exchanged a look, their partial masks failing to conceal girlish grins. Whoever the fella was that was walking around like a charming little shadow wanted to see, of all people, that Irish piece of work that worked in 'real estate'. Of course he did!
"I think I saw her walking over...that way, there she is," The socialite to the right answered, pointing with her fan towards the dame in the cloudy dress. Fiona was standing over the best Valentino impersonation in the room, but as if she had sensed she were being mentioned, she looked up. Just as Dorothy Byrd was beginning her last stint on the stage, Fiona caught sight of a man decked out like a dark whisper, his face made unrecognizable by his unique mask. But his body, and the way he carried himself, so sure and swaggering and charismatic...Dorothy made her devotional, and Fiona's ruby lips parted in a quiet grin. One of the two dames that Remy was standing with gestured towards her, and she straightened from where she'd been almost leaning against Jack's back.
"Jackie Boy, I'll be back in a moment. There's something I have to do real quick..." Fiona removed her hands from Jack's shoulders, and winked at him as she moved away and onto the floor. She floated through the crowd, a white phantom strolling in between the twirling skirts and dipping suits, until she was about half of the distance away from the man in the obsidian fedora and strangely patterned glass mask. And then she stood, her hands folded patiently before herself as the many fluttering sheaves of her dress settled, and she waited.
--------------------
Charlie stood for some time where Dorothy had left him, a pearly-toothed grin flashing wide beneath his simple dark mask. Each saccharine tone from Dorothy's lips wrapped around through the room and soaked him in warmth. After a moment he regained the use of his legs, and managed to work over to an open seat, where he kept his smiling eyes on the rouge angel on the stage. Her words gave him a flood of confidence that he was sure he'd need throughout the night.
Charlie leaned back in his seat, a sure smile stretched across his face as he listened in on the song that had been dedicated to him, knowing that just about every fella in the joint was dreaming that it was them the stunning dame on the stage had been referring to.
---------------------
Jo blinked in surprise as the canary for the evening was announced. Of course. How could it, given the odd streak of luck that Levard and Goldberg Incorporated seemed to have, have possibly been anyone else? She instantly felt a touch guilty about snapping at Ben, even though she was pretty sure that Dorothy Byrd hadn't had anything to do with him pulling her away from Hugh. Doing her best to act as if she hadn't taken stock of the canary up on the stage, Jo sighed and tugged Ben's sleeve. "So what do you need, Goldie? Call me a Miss Grundy, but I'm pretty sure hell will be selling snow cones before you go out of your way just to ask me to dance."
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Jadeling Hawkins - Member for 5 years
Re: The Life Noir ( )
by NorthernSoul on Fri Jun 19, 2009 7:14 am
Ben was about to make a gag about Jo's 'breaks' when the singer, who had emerged on the stage behind him, uttered something tooth-rottingly sweet and launched into her first song. He didn't need to look to know exactly who it was. His stomach twisted unpleasantly and he fixed his gaze straight on Jo, trying not to let any trace of it show on the features that were visible under his mask.
"Well, looks like Old Nick will be getting brain-freeze because I've gone out of my way for this dance," he said, removing her hands from his sleeve and shrugging them around his neck.
"I've told Marty to get hold of his blue-nosed blue for our big scoop, Levard," Ben said, resolutely ignoring the sound of Dorothy's voice as well as the hints of sympathy in Jo's. He placed his hands on her hips to guide the two of them into a moderately slow dance. They looked exactly like any of the other couples out on the dance floor, except for their press badges, of course.
"We can get up to the offices whilst everyone's- whilst everyone's distracted. Marty's gonna bring him over to that boat," he said, nodding over her shoulder to where the gondola was within his line of sight but not Jo's. "I'll let you know once I can see the two of them and we can go and see what Commissioner King's got cooking..." he added, in lower tones, just in case someone overheard them.
"Well, looks like Old Nick will be getting brain-freeze because I've gone out of my way for this dance," he said, removing her hands from his sleeve and shrugging them around his neck.
"I've told Marty to get hold of his blue-nosed blue for our big scoop, Levard," Ben said, resolutely ignoring the sound of Dorothy's voice as well as the hints of sympathy in Jo's. He placed his hands on her hips to guide the two of them into a moderately slow dance. They looked exactly like any of the other couples out on the dance floor, except for their press badges, of course.
"We can get up to the offices whilst everyone's- whilst everyone's distracted. Marty's gonna bring him over to that boat," he said, nodding over her shoulder to where the gondola was within his line of sight but not Jo's. "I'll let you know once I can see the two of them and we can go and see what Commissioner King's got cooking..." he added, in lower tones, just in case someone overheard them.
Last edited by NorthernSoul on Fri Jun 19, 2009 7:03 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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NorthernSoul - Member for 5 years
Re: The Life Noir ( )
by Jadeling Hawkins on Fri Jun 19, 2009 9:54 am
Jo nodded as she listened to Ben's summary of what she'd missed whilst entertaining herself with Hugh. She caught on quick to what his strategy was going to be in handling the reappearance of Miss Byrd. It was the same as anything else that he thought was too hard: he was just going to ignore it. So, out of the same unusual kindness with which she had handled the first phase of the Dorothy-trauma, Jo played along and ignored the gilded voice as well.
In the mean time, while they were waiting for Marty to appear before Ben's gaze at the 'boat' (Jo had no idea what her partner was talking about there) the pair of them were left to dance. It was ironic, but the last time they had danced, it had been Birdie singing then, too. Of course, that time Jo had only dragged Ben out to the floor (again, ironically, also leaving Hugh behind) to see if she could help him out by making Dorothy jealous. That hadn't happened, apparently. But she still had that odd urge to make him feel a little better about the green-eyed vixen. And about the only way Jo knew how to stir Ben's spirits was with some healthy ribbing. So she looked up at him, making her eyes wide and soft and fluttering her lashes in silence for a moment.
"Y'know, it's funny...I've often had dreams about getting my hands around your neck," Jo murmured, a most innocent smile playing at her lips as she settled her arms pointedly around Ben's shoulders. She could have squeezed and made him choke, had she really wanted to drive the point home. But she was wearing her badge and in public, so she didn't.
In the mean time, while they were waiting for Marty to appear before Ben's gaze at the 'boat' (Jo had no idea what her partner was talking about there) the pair of them were left to dance. It was ironic, but the last time they had danced, it had been Birdie singing then, too. Of course, that time Jo had only dragged Ben out to the floor (again, ironically, also leaving Hugh behind) to see if she could help him out by making Dorothy jealous. That hadn't happened, apparently. But she still had that odd urge to make him feel a little better about the green-eyed vixen. And about the only way Jo knew how to stir Ben's spirits was with some healthy ribbing. So she looked up at him, making her eyes wide and soft and fluttering her lashes in silence for a moment.
"Y'know, it's funny...I've often had dreams about getting my hands around your neck," Jo murmured, a most innocent smile playing at her lips as she settled her arms pointedly around Ben's shoulders. She could have squeezed and made him choke, had she really wanted to drive the point home. But she was wearing her badge and in public, so she didn't.
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Jadeling Hawkins - Member for 5 years
Re: The Life Noir ( )
by Phedre on Fri Jun 19, 2009 10:22 am
Hugh was about to ask Jo to find somewhere a little less crowded so they could talk (which ironically wasn't what Jo had in mind at all) when they were interrupted by Ben. Jo excused herself and watched as she was spun into a dance with Ben, leaving Hugh standing there in the middle of the crowd, listening to Dorothy croon about l'amour.
With a heavy sigh, Hugh dropped his now empty arms and headed back to his chair, flagging down the waitress to bring him a drink. Something hopefully a little stronger than champagne. For some reason, the current situation just hit home the point Hugh had been trying to avoid in his thoughts all night.
After their one date, Hugh hadn't heard from the curly-headed newshawk much more than for a little coffee, maybe some necking, a few words and then a swift good-bye. Hugh couldn't help but get the feeling the dame was playing him and doing it well. He'd talked it out with Maddie and Dorothy and even brought it up to Clyde and they had all pretty much agreed. Hugh'd been had.
Resolved, Hugh planned to talk this matter over with Jo as soon as she was done making googly eyes at Ben. As much as he was stuck on the redhead, Hugh needed to break it off with her and he knew it. Hugh wasn't looking to be someone's eye-candy. He wanted a girl he could settle down with and he got the feeling the fiery sheba wasn't one to settle down because she liked the way a man's arms felt around her.
When the waitress brought Hugh back his drink, Hugh took a big swig of it and watched the couples sway and spin to the music.
With a heavy sigh, Hugh dropped his now empty arms and headed back to his chair, flagging down the waitress to bring him a drink. Something hopefully a little stronger than champagne. For some reason, the current situation just hit home the point Hugh had been trying to avoid in his thoughts all night.
After their one date, Hugh hadn't heard from the curly-headed newshawk much more than for a little coffee, maybe some necking, a few words and then a swift good-bye. Hugh couldn't help but get the feeling the dame was playing him and doing it well. He'd talked it out with Maddie and Dorothy and even brought it up to Clyde and they had all pretty much agreed. Hugh'd been had.
Resolved, Hugh planned to talk this matter over with Jo as soon as she was done making googly eyes at Ben. As much as he was stuck on the redhead, Hugh needed to break it off with her and he knew it. Hugh wasn't looking to be someone's eye-candy. He wanted a girl he could settle down with and he got the feeling the fiery sheba wasn't one to settle down because she liked the way a man's arms felt around her.
When the waitress brought Hugh back his drink, Hugh took a big swig of it and watched the couples sway and spin to the music.
All knowledge is worth having.
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Phedre - Member for 4 years
Re: The Life Noir ( )
by Kohananinja on Fri Jun 19, 2009 11:07 am
“Ah, I see." Rosie answered, despite the fact he’d not truly answered her question beyond the vague and nondescript. “Every good business needs the wisdom of those before them. As my father used to tell us, ‘a house is built by young hands, but kept standing by old ones’. The supervision of a wise man goes a long way.” Rosie agreed, and believed every word. One should never take the advise of an elder lightly, as some of the wisest and best advise had come from such people. Her friend Sofia’s grandmother in particular had always been wise and plentiful in knowledge of healing to pass down to others.
She almost laughed at the responses from Frankie and Adolpho, but simply gave an amused smile instead. How different these two brothers were, though neither seemed very interested in hearing their father’s speech. Adolpho seemed less than happy to hear it, and Frankie just seemed bored. Perhaps she could fix that. Her smile widened when Frankie asked her to dance, and offered her his hand.
“Well if I must.” She said somewhat playfully, though the smiled on her lips showed it as just that. Dancing with a man like Francisco Seccarinni would never be a chore, at least not in her book.
“The music is wonderful here.” She commented, hoping to strike up a conversation with her dapper dance partner.
She almost laughed at the responses from Frankie and Adolpho, but simply gave an amused smile instead. How different these two brothers were, though neither seemed very interested in hearing their father’s speech. Adolpho seemed less than happy to hear it, and Frankie just seemed bored. Perhaps she could fix that. Her smile widened when Frankie asked her to dance, and offered her his hand.
“Well if I must.” She said somewhat playfully, though the smiled on her lips showed it as just that. Dancing with a man like Francisco Seccarinni would never be a chore, at least not in her book.
“The music is wonderful here.” She commented, hoping to strike up a conversation with her dapper dance partner.
Last edited by Kohananinja on Sat Jun 20, 2009 12:04 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Life means rolling with the punches, and knowing when to throw a few of your own
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Kohananinja - Member for 4 years
Re: The Life Noir ( )
by imogen_22 on Fri Jun 19, 2009 6:12 pm
"Really?" Marty's face lit up, actually believing his friend for a sparing moment. But Ben's expression betrayed him. With a disgruntled sigh, he slumped back down into his seat. Well, he hadn't actually believed in the first place, anyway, knowing Polina. Either way, it was easier to pretend he believed it than attempt to confront his sister. God knows she'd chew him right out, spitting out things like "I can take care of myself" and "I'm not a little girl any more".
"Wallenstein. Right," The photographer sat upright at the mention of the detective-more accurately former detective, as Polina had informed him-and all thoughts of his sister's stupidity were pushed to the back of his mind. "But, Ben, are you sure you want-"
But the reporter was already off, locating Jo with such ease that Marty suspected he'd been keeping an eye out for the bearcat throughout their discussion. This left Marty to down the last of his wine, and steel himself for a task that was becoming less and less appealing by the minute. Under the influence of Ben and Jo, he didn't particularly like Detective Wallenstein. (Though compared to the detective and Ben, the two could've looked like best buds.) But it wasn't that he was worried about. It was Charlie's reaction when he found out just who he was working with. That, and the fact that his criminal brother had just tried to do away with the two news hawks for the third time. Of course, Marty didn't blame Charlie for that, but that still didn't settle the large knot that had grown somewhere in his gut.
Inhaling deeply, he put down his wineglass and set about searching for Charlie. His efforts were, admittedly, somewhat halfhearted, as the photographer was still holding onto a weak hope that he wouldn't be able to find him, or, better yet, that he wasn't even here. But no, of course, the detective had to be sitting in plain sight, smiling goofily up at the stage. Marty frowned and followed his gaze, only to locate the slight, feminine form of Dorothy Knutson, crooning a sweet, angelic tune. He raised a brow, taken aback. So the Dorothy girl sang. (And sang well, it would seem.) Well, that was...nice.
Shaking his head, Marty returned his attention to the mission at hand. Pushing the gold mask off of his face and shoving his hands in his pockets, he reluctantly sauntered over. He felt as if he were about to jump off of an exceedingly high diving board, into an icy cold pool. Here goes.
"Hiya, mac," he greeted Charlie casually, trying to keep his tone light. "Remember me? Marty Thompson, if ya don't. I had a chat with you, earlier this week. A chat about...ah, certain...issues. Issues with authority."
Marty glanced around, keeping his voice low and choosing his words carefully. One could never tell who might be eavesdropping, and what they might pick up on. No one seemed to be paying much mind to them, though, too absorbed in their own conversations to listen in on others.
"So listen," he lowered his voice even further, "You remember those birds I told you about? The ones who got the scoop? Well, they're here tonight, and they wouldn't mind having a quick word with you."
"Wallenstein. Right," The photographer sat upright at the mention of the detective-more accurately former detective, as Polina had informed him-and all thoughts of his sister's stupidity were pushed to the back of his mind. "But, Ben, are you sure you want-"
But the reporter was already off, locating Jo with such ease that Marty suspected he'd been keeping an eye out for the bearcat throughout their discussion. This left Marty to down the last of his wine, and steel himself for a task that was becoming less and less appealing by the minute. Under the influence of Ben and Jo, he didn't particularly like Detective Wallenstein. (Though compared to the detective and Ben, the two could've looked like best buds.) But it wasn't that he was worried about. It was Charlie's reaction when he found out just who he was working with. That, and the fact that his criminal brother had just tried to do away with the two news hawks for the third time. Of course, Marty didn't blame Charlie for that, but that still didn't settle the large knot that had grown somewhere in his gut.
Inhaling deeply, he put down his wineglass and set about searching for Charlie. His efforts were, admittedly, somewhat halfhearted, as the photographer was still holding onto a weak hope that he wouldn't be able to find him, or, better yet, that he wasn't even here. But no, of course, the detective had to be sitting in plain sight, smiling goofily up at the stage. Marty frowned and followed his gaze, only to locate the slight, feminine form of Dorothy Knutson, crooning a sweet, angelic tune. He raised a brow, taken aback. So the Dorothy girl sang. (And sang well, it would seem.) Well, that was...nice.
Shaking his head, Marty returned his attention to the mission at hand. Pushing the gold mask off of his face and shoving his hands in his pockets, he reluctantly sauntered over. He felt as if he were about to jump off of an exceedingly high diving board, into an icy cold pool. Here goes.
"Hiya, mac," he greeted Charlie casually, trying to keep his tone light. "Remember me? Marty Thompson, if ya don't. I had a chat with you, earlier this week. A chat about...ah, certain...issues. Issues with authority."
Marty glanced around, keeping his voice low and choosing his words carefully. One could never tell who might be eavesdropping, and what they might pick up on. No one seemed to be paying much mind to them, though, too absorbed in their own conversations to listen in on others.
"So listen," he lowered his voice even further, "You remember those birds I told you about? The ones who got the scoop? Well, they're here tonight, and they wouldn't mind having a quick word with you."
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imogen_22 - Member for 4 years
Re: The Life Noir ( )
by Jadeling Hawkins on Sat Jun 20, 2009 12:28 pm
Charlie snapped out of his girl-induced stupor when a familiar, almost hesitant drawl greeted his ears. He sat up, and felt his eyes narrow of their own accord. He was still cautious about this whole ordeal...it seemed far too convenient that the bird he'd met at Dorothy's produce stand just happened to be the same one that was working with two mysterious beings to oust Artie King. Charlie wasn't going to go in to this situation blithe and confoundable.
"Yeah, I remembah ya. Alright, let's get on with this...but if ya think for even a second that you're gonna leave me holdin' the bag, then you can bet your last dollar that I'll be outta theah before you can say 'Clandestine.' Ya follow me, mac?" Charlie abandoned as many as his friendly qualities as he possible could, but with his natural fella-next-door face, there was only so much he could do. But this was dangerous business...as far as he knew, the chances of this meeting taking place between himself and a couple of Artie King's cronies was greater than of him making two new friends that night.
But still he stood up from his seat, taking a final strength-giving glance at the doll on the stage, and ran his hand through his hair in a manner that he hoped didn't look nervous. "So lead on, pal. Let's meet these 'friends' 'a yours."
"Yeah, I remembah ya. Alright, let's get on with this...but if ya think for even a second that you're gonna leave me holdin' the bag, then you can bet your last dollar that I'll be outta theah before you can say 'Clandestine.' Ya follow me, mac?" Charlie abandoned as many as his friendly qualities as he possible could, but with his natural fella-next-door face, there was only so much he could do. But this was dangerous business...as far as he knew, the chances of this meeting taking place between himself and a couple of Artie King's cronies was greater than of him making two new friends that night.
But still he stood up from his seat, taking a final strength-giving glance at the doll on the stage, and ran his hand through his hair in a manner that he hoped didn't look nervous. "So lead on, pal. Let's meet these 'friends' 'a yours."
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Jadeling Hawkins - Member for 5 years
Re: The Life Noir ( )
by Walter Barrecks on Sat Jun 20, 2009 4:39 pm
Remy tried to listen to the music while asking the two dames for directions. As he listened, he thought about Charlie's nick-name. What brain came up with callin' him unlucky? The Cajun left his thoughts, and glanced in the direction the girl was pointing. To his annoyance, he guessed that Jack was the guy with her, leaving him slightly feeling jealous. Once again, he paid thanks to his mask as its white and black surface saved him from looking like a fool. He shrugged the moment off, and turned back to the girls who pointed Fiona out. Taking a hand from each girl, he pressed both up to his mask where his lips should be and made a brief kiss noise. "Merci, mes mignonnettes."
As he turned back towards Fiona, he found a beautiful girl in white. He approached as gentlemen-like as possible, taking a bow, and rising back up to face Miss Muirenn. "J'aime ta robe blanche, mais j'adore ta robe rouge. Nice nigh' for a party, non? It's 'bout to be nicer." He gestured to his pocket, and then to what appeared to be a table of refreshment. "Any spooks here?"
As he turned back towards Fiona, he found a beautiful girl in white. He approached as gentlemen-like as possible, taking a bow, and rising back up to face Miss Muirenn. "J'aime ta robe blanche, mais j'adore ta robe rouge. Nice nigh' for a party, non? It's 'bout to be nicer." He gestured to his pocket, and then to what appeared to be a table of refreshment. "Any spooks here?"
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Walter Barrecks - Member for 5 years
Re: The Life Noir ( )
by NorthernSoul on Sun Jun 21, 2009 1:12 pm
"Yeah, I bet your dreams often feature me, huh?" said Ben, with a grin and a raised eyebrow. He was aware what Jo was doing and was grateful for it; he'd rather she engaged in the banter that seemed to come so easily to them than pity him. And, in light of recent events, he'd come to value that easy banter much more than he had done, say, a month ago. He supposed that was what the threat of losing something did to you.
Over the top of Jo's head, Ben watched through the eye-holes in his mask as Marty walked across the hall, snaking through the crowds towards where Wallenstein was sitting and drooling at Dorothy (whom Ben had still managed to avoid actually seeing with his own eyes yet). He looked like a particularly irritating puppy-dog.
"Hey, sorry if I interrupted anything between you and farmboy," he added, nodding towards Hugh who was looking dejected in a chair not far away from the dance floor. Ben felt oddly guilty. "You can get back to your petting party once I'm done with you."
Over the top of Jo's head, Ben watched through the eye-holes in his mask as Marty walked across the hall, snaking through the crowds towards where Wallenstein was sitting and drooling at Dorothy (whom Ben had still managed to avoid actually seeing with his own eyes yet). He looked like a particularly irritating puppy-dog.
"Hey, sorry if I interrupted anything between you and farmboy," he added, nodding towards Hugh who was looking dejected in a chair not far away from the dance floor. Ben felt oddly guilty. "You can get back to your petting party once I'm done with you."
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NorthernSoul - Member for 5 years
Re: The Life Noir ( )
by Jadeling Hawkins on Sun Jun 21, 2009 6:50 pm
"Well maybe I'll find occasion to wear the red one again sometime..." Fiona teased in reply, feeling herself instinctively shoot a rather menacing glance in the direction of the ladies Remy had just parted from. The girls decided to ankle away from the spot, and Fiona turned her attention back to Remy as he was gesturing towards the refreshment table. She arched one brow, amused. "Why, Monsieur, is that hooch in your pocket...or are you just happy to see me? I'd ask if you were going to kiss me hello, but it looks like you already decided against that option."
She didn't give him a chance to answer, leaning in with a wry smile to place a delicate kiss on the black and white glass cheek, leaving a perfect red impression of her lips at the swell of the moth's wing. It was an action that gave him no physical stimulation and her immense teasing pleasure, which was just perfect. She decided she was going to like that mask.
"So, Sheik, are you going to ask me to dance before you go to spice up the party, or are we just going to stand here in the middle of the floor and look pretty all night?" Fiona was aware that there were people watching, and they were hardly being discrete about it. But she didn't rightly care. She was with the man she was already risking it all to be with, and all of his face and half of hers were covered, anyhow. The odds be damned.
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"Very generous of you," Jo retorted to Ben's apology (what an odd night this was turning out to be). But she sighed, glancing in the direction of the farm boy who she might have been snogging in a nice dark corner at the moment. "But don't worry about it. We're just...well, you know."
Jo figured that Ben Goldberg, of all people, would know what it was like having a casual, entertainment-based relationship with a particularly tasty member of the opposite sex. Which, as far as she was concerned, was what her dalliance with the adorable farm boy was. Hugh was cute. And muscular. And just darling with his country bumpkin ways. And he was interesting enough to talk to...very sweet. But it was all just a momentary thing...a bit of fun Jo granted herself when her schedule had time to be slipped into. For Jo to have ever been able to settle long-term with a fella, he'd have to have a certain spark that got her gears turning. More like...
Jo's thoughts were interrupted as she perked up, her eyes widening. She leaned forward, resting her chin against Ben's tall shoulder to get a better look. "Lawd, I guess even folks that are off their nuts can get dizzy for someone..."
She was watching the expansive dance floor as not only Francisco Seccarinni was leading out a very lovely young thing, but Fiona Muirenn was making fatally googly eyes at some dark stranger.
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Frankie's cool wedge of a smile reappeared at Rosie's words. The musicians were indeed talented, and the singer that had been arranged had a lovely voice. But neither of these things were particularly mysterious or awe-inspiring for Frankie, who had been attending operas and hearing the finest melodies in the world since he had been old enough to comprehend them. Still, it was charming how engaging his date seemed to find the whole atmosphere.
"Si, Signora. The music is quite fine." Frankie drew Rosie into a close hold, as they began to sway to the music. His mask, dark green with pale gold swirls reaching from his eyes to each edge, only served to make his eyes look darker and shinier. Like chips of polished jet, which were currently surveying the sweet young thing he'd found in Guns' possession with pleasure. She truly did look as though she belonged in the setting.
"I hope, Signora, that you are not offended by my father and brother. I wish I could say that they are, both of them, accustomed to behaving as gentlemen...but all I can say is that I assure you, I am."
She didn't give him a chance to answer, leaning in with a wry smile to place a delicate kiss on the black and white glass cheek, leaving a perfect red impression of her lips at the swell of the moth's wing. It was an action that gave him no physical stimulation and her immense teasing pleasure, which was just perfect. She decided she was going to like that mask.
"So, Sheik, are you going to ask me to dance before you go to spice up the party, or are we just going to stand here in the middle of the floor and look pretty all night?" Fiona was aware that there were people watching, and they were hardly being discrete about it. But she didn't rightly care. She was with the man she was already risking it all to be with, and all of his face and half of hers were covered, anyhow. The odds be damned.
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"Very generous of you," Jo retorted to Ben's apology (what an odd night this was turning out to be). But she sighed, glancing in the direction of the farm boy who she might have been snogging in a nice dark corner at the moment. "But don't worry about it. We're just...well, you know."
Jo figured that Ben Goldberg, of all people, would know what it was like having a casual, entertainment-based relationship with a particularly tasty member of the opposite sex. Which, as far as she was concerned, was what her dalliance with the adorable farm boy was. Hugh was cute. And muscular. And just darling with his country bumpkin ways. And he was interesting enough to talk to...very sweet. But it was all just a momentary thing...a bit of fun Jo granted herself when her schedule had time to be slipped into. For Jo to have ever been able to settle long-term with a fella, he'd have to have a certain spark that got her gears turning. More like...
Jo's thoughts were interrupted as she perked up, her eyes widening. She leaned forward, resting her chin against Ben's tall shoulder to get a better look. "Lawd, I guess even folks that are off their nuts can get dizzy for someone..."
She was watching the expansive dance floor as not only Francisco Seccarinni was leading out a very lovely young thing, but Fiona Muirenn was making fatally googly eyes at some dark stranger.
--------------------------
Frankie's cool wedge of a smile reappeared at Rosie's words. The musicians were indeed talented, and the singer that had been arranged had a lovely voice. But neither of these things were particularly mysterious or awe-inspiring for Frankie, who had been attending operas and hearing the finest melodies in the world since he had been old enough to comprehend them. Still, it was charming how engaging his date seemed to find the whole atmosphere.
"Si, Signora. The music is quite fine." Frankie drew Rosie into a close hold, as they began to sway to the music. His mask, dark green with pale gold swirls reaching from his eyes to each edge, only served to make his eyes look darker and shinier. Like chips of polished jet, which were currently surveying the sweet young thing he'd found in Guns' possession with pleasure. She truly did look as though she belonged in the setting.
"I hope, Signora, that you are not offended by my father and brother. I wish I could say that they are, both of them, accustomed to behaving as gentlemen...but all I can say is that I assure you, I am."
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Jadeling Hawkins - Member for 5 years
Re: The Life Noir ( )
by Irish Wolf on Sun Jun 21, 2009 8:27 pm
"Can't we ever get a nice social gathering" came a voice behind Fi and Jack, "Without you wanting to spice things up? Don't you remember what happened last time you did that."
The voice was followed by a chuckle coming out from under a what appeared to be a golden mask, which covered just about three-quarters of the speakers face, save for the left cheek, his lips and chin. Normally tame and neat red hair had been combed back towards his neck, as a pair of green eyes shown with brazen jolliness from the holes in the mask. The speaker was dressed in nearly standard attire for the evening, a black tuxedo with green tie, gold buttons and shamrock lapel pin.
Patrick smiled, as he waited for Fi to snap a comeback at him. He had been at the ball long before anyone else had arrive (save maybe Shin), as he supervised his crew unload the crates of giggle water for the evening's enjoyment. He had really pulled out the stops for this one, having emptied several of his deepest and darkest hiddy holes for the finest of refreshments that money almost couldn't buy in the United States. Rares bottles of wine that should have been in museums in France had somehow made their way into the kitchen, so the liquid gold within would be served. Whiskey, scotch, brandy, port, sherry, rum and gin were all there as well. Then had come some of the more exotic drinks he had collected. Tequila, pisco and tepache from Latin America, Choujiu, huangjiu, tuak and sonti from Asia.
The voice was followed by a chuckle coming out from under a what appeared to be a golden mask, which covered just about three-quarters of the speakers face, save for the left cheek, his lips and chin. Normally tame and neat red hair had been combed back towards his neck, as a pair of green eyes shown with brazen jolliness from the holes in the mask. The speaker was dressed in nearly standard attire for the evening, a black tuxedo with green tie, gold buttons and shamrock lapel pin.
Patrick smiled, as he waited for Fi to snap a comeback at him. He had been at the ball long before anyone else had arrive (save maybe Shin), as he supervised his crew unload the crates of giggle water for the evening's enjoyment. He had really pulled out the stops for this one, having emptied several of his deepest and darkest hiddy holes for the finest of refreshments that money almost couldn't buy in the United States. Rares bottles of wine that should have been in museums in France had somehow made their way into the kitchen, so the liquid gold within would be served. Whiskey, scotch, brandy, port, sherry, rum and gin were all there as well. Then had come some of the more exotic drinks he had collected. Tequila, pisco and tepache from Latin America, Choujiu, huangjiu, tuak and sonti from Asia.
Its easy to be brave behind a castle wall
Twelve highlanders and a bagpipe make a rebellion
A king's son is no nobler then the food he eats
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Irish Wolf - Member for 4 years
Re: The Life Noir ( )
by Kohananinja on Mon Jun 22, 2009 7:56 am
It was quite easy to relax and sway to the lovely music filling the room, especially in Frankie’s strong arms. His eyes weren’t the only one delightfully surveying their partner though, as Rosie found Frankie quite an eyeful as well. She found him to be almost a perfect contradiction, darkly handsome, but always the perfect gentleman. She didn’t feel threatened or any danger from the gentleman mobster, but looking in his eyes hinted at an almost predatory nature. Gentleman indeed, but also a dangerous man to cross. Dancing here in this intimate setting, she could almost forget that.
“Of that I know. I can’t however bring myself to find complaint with your family though, after all my brother told my happened to you with mine.” Rosie said, a bit of embarrassed heat creeping to her cheeks at what Lorenzo had told her of Risa, and the leg hugging incident.
“My niece is really a sweet girl, but at times she knows not the meaning of personal space. She seems quite taken with you though. If it’s not too much trouble, I think she’d enjoy a visit.” Rosie said with a slightly apologetically, slightly inviting smile on her face, asshe'd like a visit too.
“Of that I know. I can’t however bring myself to find complaint with your family though, after all my brother told my happened to you with mine.” Rosie said, a bit of embarrassed heat creeping to her cheeks at what Lorenzo had told her of Risa, and the leg hugging incident.
“My niece is really a sweet girl, but at times she knows not the meaning of personal space. She seems quite taken with you though. If it’s not too much trouble, I think she’d enjoy a visit.” Rosie said with a slightly apologetically, slightly inviting smile on her face, asshe'd like a visit too.
Last edited by Kohananinja on Thu Jul 02, 2009 8:53 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Kohananinja - Member for 4 years
Re: The Life Noir ( )
by NorthernSoul on Mon Jun 22, 2009 9:39 am
"Yeah, I know," said Ben, understanding perfectly. So Farmboy was nothing serious. Well, it wasn't as if Ben thought any less of Jo for engaging in such a relationship; he'd be a huge hypocrite if he did, it was more that he hoped Farmboy felt the same way. After recently being on the receiving-end of heart-twisting rejection, he didn't wish it upon anyone.
At Jo's comment, Ben turned his head to the side to catch a glimpse of Muirenn and her oddly-masked squeeze. Not far away from them, Frankie Seccharini (who was recognisable even whilst wearing that ritzy green mask) had his arms around a copper-headed young girl, who couldn't have been any older than at most twenty. No doubt the older generations were hanging around the sidelines in penguins and pearls watching the pairs like hawks. This was about the only place and time where the two crime families of New York would deign to be within fifty yards of each other without the obligatory hail of bullets.
He grinned. "Rather him than me; you wouldn't find me touching Fiona Muirenn with a barge-pole," he said. "I'm guessing that Seccharini isn't what you consider a choice piece of calico either. At least, whilst they both have their... 'baggage', if you know what I mean."
Still cheek-to-cheek with Jo, Ben watched as Marty began to talk to Wallenstein. He wondered exactly when he should reveal to Wallenstein that he would be working with his two favourite people. Probably after he'd dished out the important information...
At Jo's comment, Ben turned his head to the side to catch a glimpse of Muirenn and her oddly-masked squeeze. Not far away from them, Frankie Seccharini (who was recognisable even whilst wearing that ritzy green mask) had his arms around a copper-headed young girl, who couldn't have been any older than at most twenty. No doubt the older generations were hanging around the sidelines in penguins and pearls watching the pairs like hawks. This was about the only place and time where the two crime families of New York would deign to be within fifty yards of each other without the obligatory hail of bullets.
He grinned. "Rather him than me; you wouldn't find me touching Fiona Muirenn with a barge-pole," he said. "I'm guessing that Seccharini isn't what you consider a choice piece of calico either. At least, whilst they both have their... 'baggage', if you know what I mean."
Still cheek-to-cheek with Jo, Ben watched as Marty began to talk to Wallenstein. He wondered exactly when he should reveal to Wallenstein that he would be working with his two favourite people. Probably after he'd dished out the important information...
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NorthernSoul - Member for 5 years
Re: The Life Noir ( )
by Jadeling Hawkins on Mon Jun 22, 2009 1:36 pm
Fiona was generally pleased to see Patrick, but his sudden appearance just then was far from a pleasant surprise. Patrick didn't know about her dealings with the Cajun dick, much less about her decision to give their dangerous relationship a chance in the romantic sense. Patrick also didn't know about Fiona's complicated dealings in the criminal world...as far as Patrick, possibly her greatest friend in the business, knew...Fiona was just another crime lord with her own set of rules.
After a beat, during which she stood stiff and unsure, Fiona forced the tension from her shoulders and managed a smile at Patrick. Her mind raced for an explanation as to who the man in the mask was, and why there was the mark of her lips on his glass cheek. "Good evening, Patrick. And as I recall, the last time I 'spiced up' an evening, you went home with some brunette Sheba, I found my own companion for the evening, and I never heard a single complaint. What's the point of these shindigs if you can't have a little fun?"
--------------------------------
Jo chuckled a bit, still watching the ritzy criminals at work. Now Fiona Muirenn had the sharp-looking bird in the strange mask and some copper-top bimbo hanging around her. "You sure about that, Goldie? There's a reason she's a media darling, you know. She's richer than Uncle Sam, keener than just about every woman in the Big Apple...and let's not forget, she has an endless supply of hooch, which I would think would make her your dream girl."
Jo grinned to herself, waiting until they had turned enough that she could try and catch sight of Marty and Wallenstein. She could only just barely glimpse them, but there weren't any fists being thrown so she assumed all was well so far. Never being a patient woman when she didn't absolutely have to, Jo entertained herself with the previous thought she had voiced. Exactly what sort of woman was it that Ben Goldberg dreamed about? Not that it was of any real importance to Jo; it was just a matter of interest. Ben seemed to be constantly clinging to dames that sparked his creative juices in some way, and from what Jo had seen it always ended when he'd either gotten his fill or the dame that he'd picked out made a run for it. Usually it was the former. Jo wondered, briefly, if Ben would be better off if he found a Sheba that he could stand long-term, and that could stand him. His creativity would probably suffer if he got some Mary-Jane type, but maybe the rest of him would thrive.
"You should see if you can get Missy to pick out a proper tomato for you, Goldie," Jo spoke up, still watching Marty with Wallenstein. "Lord knows she'd do a better job of it than you ever have. Unless you want to try it with Lady Luck over there...I don't know from why, but I'm pretty sure I saw her giving you a once-over earlier today."
After a beat, during which she stood stiff and unsure, Fiona forced the tension from her shoulders and managed a smile at Patrick. Her mind raced for an explanation as to who the man in the mask was, and why there was the mark of her lips on his glass cheek. "Good evening, Patrick. And as I recall, the last time I 'spiced up' an evening, you went home with some brunette Sheba, I found my own companion for the evening, and I never heard a single complaint. What's the point of these shindigs if you can't have a little fun?"
--------------------------------
Jo chuckled a bit, still watching the ritzy criminals at work. Now Fiona Muirenn had the sharp-looking bird in the strange mask and some copper-top bimbo hanging around her. "You sure about that, Goldie? There's a reason she's a media darling, you know. She's richer than Uncle Sam, keener than just about every woman in the Big Apple...and let's not forget, she has an endless supply of hooch, which I would think would make her your dream girl."
Jo grinned to herself, waiting until they had turned enough that she could try and catch sight of Marty and Wallenstein. She could only just barely glimpse them, but there weren't any fists being thrown so she assumed all was well so far. Never being a patient woman when she didn't absolutely have to, Jo entertained herself with the previous thought she had voiced. Exactly what sort of woman was it that Ben Goldberg dreamed about? Not that it was of any real importance to Jo; it was just a matter of interest. Ben seemed to be constantly clinging to dames that sparked his creative juices in some way, and from what Jo had seen it always ended when he'd either gotten his fill or the dame that he'd picked out made a run for it. Usually it was the former. Jo wondered, briefly, if Ben would be better off if he found a Sheba that he could stand long-term, and that could stand him. His creativity would probably suffer if he got some Mary-Jane type, but maybe the rest of him would thrive.
"You should see if you can get Missy to pick out a proper tomato for you, Goldie," Jo spoke up, still watching Marty with Wallenstein. "Lord knows she'd do a better job of it than you ever have. Unless you want to try it with Lady Luck over there...I don't know from why, but I'm pretty sure I saw her giving you a once-over earlier today."
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Jadeling Hawkins - Member for 5 years
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