KHIYC - Redux » Places

         To say the cold shower was simply a joke would be ridiculous. Even Marloes knew ice would melt to the touch at this point and it had little to do with the weather - or air conditioning units within the famed library. "Let's stay, then. Just a little while longer."

To be honest, she'd had every intention of continuing her rebellious adventure between the shelves, pulling out books and stashing pieces of cash, signatures here and there, notes to no one.. But there was something about the way he held her - No, not only with his arms, but the pressure he applied to her body was not only of longing, but of experience. This was the exciting bit; Not knowing what someone's limits are, testing their boundaries with hopes of avoiding rejection - sorting a resolution once a question rose. Marloes found herself stifling her own joy, eventually slinking from under his arm and pulling the pair of them from their ecstacy.

Every tabloid jested about her experience. What was his?

Fingers locked as if to keep a chain that would never break, Marloes completed her unwritten mission. Upon exiting, a couple of whispers rose with actual tone and inflection until someone broke the murmurs with, "Is that Vestige!?" "What? Where?" "Oh my God, oh my God!!"

With a wave of her hand, Vestige was off in to a sprint with Jackson along with her as a shield from anyone coming at them from behind. She navigated the various civilians on the steps and called out to the cabbie who'd chosen to stay. He was leaning against his cab with a cigarette between two fingers, but upon her shouting, he tossed it aside with a step and slipped in to his vehicle. With Jackson opening the door for her, Marloes dove for the backseat.

She didn't stop laughing for a beat, this time. With Jackson in the seat next to her, even the cabbie could tell her eyes looked at him with a different expression.

"Where now?" He asked after he'd pulled in to the isolation of traffic, looking at the pair through the mirror with a smirk out the side of his cheek.

"You're still here!" Marloes grinned. "Need another autograph?" -- With a nudge from Jackson, she added towards the end, "Oh. Next stop is a home address. 8911 E Merinde Circle. It's outside of the city - but barely so. North and near the shore."

Turning to Jackson, she let out a breath that was hard to catch after their run. "Hungry for lunch?"

         Current time: 8:37pm -- The top floor of The Gala'vox Hotel, New York City, New York

The party was loud, the room was decorated in overly lavished design, and the music was so dull and orchestrated that no one was bothering to dance but the older wealthy couples who'd finished dinner and had too much to drink. In her own corner Ellie let out a laugh, holding the wine glass with her fingers delicately laced around the thin spine. She wasn't sure what had been said, but she knew better than to not laugh at the joke.

It was your average high society party... And it seemed to drag on forever. Had it really only been twenty minutes since she arrived? Granted, checking the phone in her clutch for the time would be considered rude, but come on. With a bright smile, granting everyone little room to protest her affable appearance, she excused herself from the current cluster. A few steps back, a right around the corner, and quickened paces down the hall led her straight to the nearest washroom.

She felt it crawling up, like a spider in it's natural habitat, teeth piercing to inject you with venom until you finally... And there it was. Vomit, everywhere, all over the seat of the toilet. She gagged a few times, hands at either side of the porcelain god to stabilize herself, purging everything she'd eaten within the last hour or so. When nothing else came, she straightened up, pulling on the toilet paper and neatly folding it in to a triangle. Using it, she dabbed beneath her eyes to control the mascara that had begun to run once she'd broken a sweat working up the episode.

Staring back in to the mirror, she had a silent conversation with herself. It went about in the usual way, and somehow, her mother's voice crept in to her mind, taking over control of the conversation and demanding better results. Were those bags under her eyes? My, she was a single woman nearing thirty - a starlet, unmarried! What was she waiting for? No man was going to come around calling to a woman with the freshman five fresh at her stomach, covering up the abs she worked so hard on. Turning around to gaze at her backside, the low dip dress hinting at her shape just above her waist, she pouted at the rump she'd acquired. She made a mental note to choose her next meal much more carefully.

Ellie took one last look at her physique beneath the coral satin silks that adorned her like a Greek goddess, her curls rolling down the length of her back - covering up what her dress failed to. Starved eyes looked back at her, but the make-up applied afterward would take care of the facade to protest it. When all was said and done, she pushed against the door.

And managed to, like the poor klutz she was, smack it right in the face of a man she didn't know who'd happened by. She brought up a hand to her lips, eyes wide. Embarrassment turned to horror as she spotted the trickles of blood beginning down his nose. On a quick thought, she looked around for anyone to be watching and reached for his arm, attempting to pull him in to bathroom she'd just left. Closing the door behind her, she finally spoke, frantically humiliated. "I'm so very sorry, very sorry about your nose. Hold still and I can wipe it, okay? I'm sure there's something in here that will work."

Before he could respond she spun around, looking up in the cabinet pantry for a spare hand-towel. Naturally, she found the most expensive out of internal spite for the party and decided it would be the best to ruin with blood. Turning back to him, she let out a laugh, shaking her head as she poured some warm water from the spout on the cloth and brought it over to him. "Come on, lean your head back on the back of the toilet. It'll stop soon. - Oooh, did I break it? God, I hope not." As he leaned back, she dotted his face with the wet portion of the towel, biting her lip as she leaned over him for a better view.

When the bleeding finally stopped, she let out another laugh and winked, "I really am sorry. You'll be okay, now? I'll make it up to you. Save me a dance back out there?" Without another word, she fluttered out the door with her dress trailing behind her. Back to the ballroom, to forget any of it ever happened and to put as much distance between the awkward encounter as possible before word got out to the magazines that she was 'assaulting' patrons and celebrities in passing. -- Or dragging them to the bathroom with her during a party. How scandalous! My publicist would have a field day... Did I really just ask him to dance with me?