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Snippet #2618118

located in New York, a part of Their Lives As One, one of the many universes on RPG.

New York

None

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sammie Tyrant Character Portrait: Ellie Wicks Character Portrait: Benjamin L. Character Portrait: Benji Pennington
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Ellie continued to stare into the showy fireplace, her gaze vacant and cold. There was a red solo cup in her hand now, and her trechcoat had been cast away to reveal a red wool sweater, complete with the same plaid scarf she had worn on the way in. Compared to the rest of the crowd, she was comfy, casual, and as ordinary as a button. She took sips of her cheap draft beer every so often, but due to her inactivity, she seemed to camouflauge in with the rest of her surroundings like a miserable Christmas chameleon.

"Guys!" Sammie - who looked stunning in her sexy, form-fitting outfit - shouted amongst the ring of clinking glasses. "You guys remember Ellie, don't you?" Nodding and waving, the soirée of showpeople greeted her with polite 'hellos' and 'how do you dos'. She politely did the same in response, despite the fact that a majority of the guests looked at her with empty eyes. Clearly, a few of them did not know her. Ellie didn't blame them. With the many extraordinary faces these people saw every day, it would be challenging to remember a simple visage such as hers.

She took a long swig of her drink, and out of nowhere, felt a tug at her hand. Sammie whipped the thick-haired girl across the room, almost sending her cup flying and ballet flat-clad feet tripping over each other. It was curt and unexpected, and consequently, made Ellie annoyed. "Hey!" she cried, "Sammie! What on earth are you-"

"Ellie..." her friend interjected, "this is Benjamin. He's a simple man, owning the cafe downtown we certainly crash at between shoots."

Her roomate's head then turned, revealing the face of tall, doe-eyed twenty-something with thin lips, heavy brows, and hair that seemed to be disheveled yet neat at the same time. Despite the fact that his sweatervest and slacks hung on him as though he were a living coat hanger, the black-haired boy had a calm, classy composure that made Ellie wonder why on earth a man of such caliber would be hanging out in the midst of a trashy apartment set up such as this one. He seemed out of place; as though he belonged in one of those old black-and-white detective films with cigarettes, mysteries, and femme fatales around every corner.

"Ben, this is Ellie, she's my room mate. So, please, talk to her instead of giving us all chills." said Sammie, strutting off into the circle of popular people once her speech was complete. And just like that, she was alone with this guy. Alone and wide-eyed and completely out of breath. Unintentionally, Ellie's face went florid. Her cheeks were brighter than the red ribbons that hung upon the Christmas tree. How much more awkward could this day possibly get? The man tightened his grip around the cup he was holding. Instinctively, she did the same.

"I suppose I do owe you an apology for my...unreasonable being of a pedophile." he said. Well, that was one way to start a conversation. Ellie gave a nervous chuckle. He looked down at his cup, and immediately her eyes trained to the floor. "I didn't mean any harm. I just.." he rambled, "...didn't recognize such a beauty that I haven't seen in the daily visits I am so privileged to have with the usual group of models and such."

The unusually poetic words that came out of his mouth made her gaze connect with his. Her brows raised, the girl began to contemplate whether or not he was being sincere. He didn't look like your average dose of douchebag...perhaps he was one of those modest artists only found in the Big Apple; a part of that group as uncommon as a gemstone stuck in the cement. Rare. Unique. Untouched by society's requirement of conformity.

As he cleared his throat, her lips started to curl up into a smile. With bright eyes, she began to laugh, clearly receiving his compliment with grace. "Well, I guess we all get tired of perfect cheekbones and hourglass figures every once in a while." she snarked. There was a part of his shy demeanor that reminded her of her old friend, James. He certainly had James's smirk. The girl tapped the edge of her cup in syncopated rythym as she gazed into the man's eyes. Benjamin and Ellie shared a moment of comfortable silence before she continued.

"Pardon me for asking this, but...are you French?" She leaned her head forward a bit and pushed back her side bangs. "Your accent...it's familiar. My grandpa used to have one just like yours and he was French. Immigrated into the country when he was just eleven. He passed a year ago, but...for my family and I, he's still not gone."

She gave him a gentle smile warmer than the crackling fireplace she had mindlessly stared into just a minute before this wonderful conversation.




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The girl's lips pursed into a hypnotic smile, and despite her crossed arms, she seemed open and pleasured by his presence. "You could call it that. Singer/Dancer, I guess.. a package deal," she explained. "I'm more of Beyonce, than a Jay-Z. I don't think I'd want anyone to hear my rapping rhymes." This made him laugh. Benji nodded in reply, "yeah, I can't rap either," he said, "every time I try to make up something on the spot, my tongue just keeps getting twisted in knots. It's embarassing, to say the least."

He looked away for a moment, laughing at the reckless crowd of drunks before turning his attention back to Sammie. "If you want..." she said somewhat hesitantly, "I could...show you."

His eyes widened in anticipation. "You could? Well I'd be delighted to see! Yeah! Go ahead!" Much to his surprise, it turned out that the young woman didn't even need his words of encouragement. Like a magician, she flicked her wrist, making three sober girls flock in her direction. With a charming grin, she strutted over to a nearby karaoke machine, starting it up and setting it to a song he had never heard before. He was unfamiliar with the works of Christina Perri, but he had listened to a few of her songs, and knew exactly what kind of style to expect.

At first, the chatter of the guests surrounding him polluted the purity of the girl's singing voice. However, as more and more people realized that there was a live performance going on within the tiny space of the apartment, shushes brought the noise down until all you could hear was the slow, gentle music beating in the background. And then he heard her angelic crooning, and like the flip of a switch, he fell in love with her voice. The backup singers were okay, but Sammie's tone clearly outshined them all. She was a natural. An absolute natural. Much better than him when he was her age...

Being the innovative, mellow, unafraid man that he was, Benji began to pay attention to the melody. About the time the bridge rolled around, he began to belt out strong, perfect harmonies that seemed to compliment her performance. Everyone in the room gazed upon the two with wondersome expressions. And then the song finally concluded. The black-haired maiden tugged at her dress in anxiety, but instead of frightening silence, she was met with the loud, booming sound of applause, as well as various hoots and hollers from those who had already consumed way too much whiskey.

Benji was one of the last to finish clapping. A valiant grin on his face, he crossed and his arms and shook his head in astonishment. "Sammie Tyrant," he began, "I hope you know that you just elicited goosebumps and chills out of everyone in this apartment." He removed the grey fedora from off of his head, running his fingers through his jet-black hair. "I...I don't know how else to put it: I am enraptured by your voice." He continued to shake his head, still blown away by her performance. "Me and you. We need to collaborate. Now. Soon. Sometime. You in?" He leaned towards her, eagerly awaiting her response.