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Rose Ellison

A guest of the hotel until further notice.

0 · 496 views · located in Miami, FL

a character in “Miami Heat : Hotel Colony”, as played by Saint Crash

Description

Rose Lavender Ellison


“I want to be important. By being different. And these girls are all the same.”
― Sylvia Plath




Image
Name:
Rose Lavender Ellison

Alias:
Rosie Ellison, Lavender Earnshaw

Age:
Twenty-three

Gender:
Female

Occupation:
Boutique Owner / Designer

Likes:
Old-fashioned gentlemen, anything retro esp. 40's to 60's clothing, kooky-looking fabrics, alternative fashions, alternative music, fish and chips, chocolates and the beach.

Dislikes:
Ignorant, bigoted arseholes, shapeless clothing, anything dull, bland or boring, lack of personality



There are new words now that excuse everybody. Give me the good old days of heroes and villains, the people you can bravo or hiss. There was a truth to them that all the slick credulity of today cannot touch.
― Bette Davis



Image
Personality:
"Oh, you're asking about Rosie? She's a minor underground celebrity. All that sub-culture stuff, you know? Shame about her shop... Still, you can't keep a girl like that down.

Rosie is a through and through optimist. She is rarely seen without a smile on her lips and her friends and acquaintances claim that there has never been an occasion where she has been in an openly bad mood. She is the kind of woman to sing in the shop when nobody's there, and to dance when there are. The recent destruction of her business was a hard blow to her, but she has retained her cheery demeanor; she still can cater to some online orders and she can reopen when the insurance money comes through.
Beneath her upbeat exterior, Rose is a ruthless businesswoman with an eye for fabrics and quality dress-making. She knows what she likes, but is slow to let her heart overrule her head. She can spot a bargain from a rip-off at fifty paces, and will only ever pay [or sell it] what it's worth. She refuses to be played for a fool, and generally, will not let the same happen to anyone else.

Needless to say, Rosie is a confident, outgoing woman. She likes people, and despite her kookiness at times, people generally like her. She takes immense pride in her work, and while generally able to take constructive constructive criticism, she takes insults about her clothing personally. She is not a woman to sit by when others are being attacked, physically or verbally, for their appearance. She has taken self-defense lessons, has three older brothers, and typically is wearing shoes with killer heels... She's not a black belt, but she can handle herself pretty well considering.

Biography:
                                Rose Ellison was born the youngest of five children in an upper-middle class neighbourhood in London City, England. She lost her parents in a car accident when she was three, but raised by her grandparents, had a happy and otherwise unremarkable childhood. Her grandmother, a performer during the war, became a major influence on her growing up. Rose grew up seeing the glamorous pictures and listening to her records; she held more respect for her gran than she did any pop star, even into her teens.

                                Rosie's parents were both career minded people; they didn't count on a set of triplets after their first child, or an accidental third pregnancy. It was mentioned in their will that they wished for each of their children to pursue a 'proper' career, and the appropriate money set aside for their education. The eldest child, Maria, became a doctor like her mother, while the triplets, George, Ed and Charlie, went into law, finance and business. Rose knew early on that medicine wasn't for her, and the idea of spending the rest of her life in suit, pinned in an office somewhere bored her to tears.

                                Instead, Rose enjoyed shopping for fabrics and studying dress patterns, eventually altering and then making her own clothes from scratch. After passing her A-levels, she reluctantly chose to study business at university, taking evening classes in dress-making and seeing classes.

                                It was at uni where Rose started getting attention for her dress-making skills. In her third year, she and two of her roommates clubbed together and started running a tailor-made dress shop out of their dorm. Together they featured prominently in the end of year fashion show, earning a small name for themselves. One thing led to another, and soon they found themselves running a small business. Things were going swimmingly until a spat occurred between the girls that involved money, two boys and a bra appearing in the wrong room. They went their separate ways and Rose in the meanwhile returned to her studies.

                                After graduation, Rosie found herself revisiting her days as a dressmaker, but it wasn't until she got a phone call late one night, asking her if she was still in business. When she replied that the business was gone, the question was re-phased; Does Rose Ellison still design dresses?

                                The voice on the end of the phone belonged to an agent of a rising star in the underground music scene. She had bought the dress second-hand online and had liked it so much, she'd checked around, wanting a new one. She eventually bought several dresses for a rather large sum, and inspired a trend in vintage style dresses, especially hard to find one off pieces by the elusive Lavender Earnshaw.

                                Rose originally left London with the intention of going to New York to open a boutique to feature pieces by up and coming, slightly offbeat and kooky vintage inspired clothing. Due to an unforeseen set of circumstances, she had to stay for a weekend in Miami. She never got on the flight to New York, and hasn't looked back since.

                                Recently, with no warning, Rosie's shop was robbed and destroyed in an arson attack. She lived above the shop, but luckily for her, was on a night out with friends when the attack happened and not tucked up in bed, burnt to a crisp. She is set to claim insurance, and didn't lose anything too valuable in the blaze. Until such a time comes when Rosie can move back into her flat, her brother is putting her up in the hotel under her real name. After all, there is only a handful of people in the world who can link the face of Rose Ellison to the name of Lavender Earnshaw.

So begins...

Rose Ellison's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Bianca Santiago Character Portrait: Rose Ellison Character Portrait: Cassus Angelo
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Cassus was just concluding with his his breakfast when he heard a commotion in the lobby. He heard a scream and he instantly noted that it belonged to Bianca. He sighed slightly as he got up from his place and reached beneath his clothes. Depending on the situation, he'd need a knife, a gun, a type of poison, cyanide capsule, or money. He'd have to see what it was. He passed by a girl transfixed by the scene and proceeded to take it in.

Bianca had been taken hostage. Sirens were echoing outside, but they would be too late if the hostage-taker panicked. Bianca had obviously pressed the panic button, but had been burned by that particular action. There was a grim-looking fellow eying the situation behind a marble pillar. He was obviously trained well, but more than was normal for a police officer, though he wouldn't scratch the possibility just yet. He glanced at the hostage taker, not too surprised he recognized him. He took a step forward.

"Joey? You're fucked. You've fucked yourself pretty hard here," Cassus stated simply. The man relaxed slightly, but eyed Cassus suspiciously.

"Cassus? What are you doing here?"

"What does it look like I'm doing, I'm relaxing. What are you doing here? Taking a hostage in broad daylight? Let me guess, you panicked when she told you take off your hat and decided to hold her at gunpoint, betting on the slim chance she'd be able to point you in the direction of your mark and she wouldn't call the cops after you left or, if you disposed of her, someone wouldn't noticed the body in time," Cassus analyzed coolly. Joey was never that bright.

"Hey, I was told to do this," he began, but a cup struck him. He cursed, letting Bianca go as another officer raised a gun. Shots rang out, barely missing both of them. Cassus sighed and gripped a knife beneath his coat.

"It would be better for you to surrender."

"I... No way man. Sorry, but I have to do this. If I don't, I'm dead. Speak of which, you better leave town. As soon as the boss knows," he began, but Cassus had already tossed a knife into his chest. He gasped for breath, looking at Cassus, eyes wide with betrayal. Cassus smiled sadly and closed the distance. He whispered in his ear.

"Sorry, old friend. The moment you saw me, you were dead," Cassus whispered in his ear. He cleaned his knife on the man's shirt and pocketed it. He approached the first detective and smiled politely as Joey breathed his last breath.

"Your partner needs better aim. Oh, and Joey didn't know anything. He was always a dumb pawn. Destined to make one suicide job and be carted into jail or the morgue afterwards. Oh, do I know you? You look like the cop that arrested me, what, one, two years ago? You made an interesting face when I walked out. Lack of evidence and testimony will do that, you know. You are Detective Lanning, are you not? If not, well, I feel like a fool."

Cassus spoke all of this like a smile, like he was recalling a humorous incident with an old friend.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Bianca Santiago Character Portrait: Rose Ellison Character Portrait: Mallory Lanning Character Portrait: Cassus Angelo
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Mallory swore under his breath as the coffee cup struck the hostage-taker in the side of the head. It wasn't supposed to hit him! Either way, his objective had been completed. Miraculously, the gunman let Bianca go as he stumbled back, clearly stunned. Bianca scrambled for cover behind the side of the desk while Manny squeezed off two rounds. Both of them missed, coming uncomfortably close to Mallory and crashing into the windows behind him. He flattened himself behind the pillar, controlling his breathing and reassessing the situation.

As he was doing this he heard conversation behind him. Peeking out from cover, he saw a man standing in front of the desk, talking to the gunman. He was well dressed, and noticeably well protected as Mallory was able to discern the outline of a bullet-resistant vest underneath his attire. He glanced back at the gunman and noticed that...there was a throwing knife in his chest. Foamy, bright red blood trickled out of his lungs as he crumpled to the floor, hitting his head hard on the office chair and smearing blood over the desktop. Manny and the rest of the police ensemble moved from their position and took over the lobby, surrounding the knife-wielding man and securing the rest of the building.

He gestured Manny to look after Bianca, who was clearly in a state of shock and slumped beside the front desk. As for the mystery man with the throwing knives? Mallory knew instantly who he was upon walking up to him.


Mallory couldn't help but smile. "Mr. Angelo, we meet again." He extended his hand in a friendly gesture that he reserved for a certain group of people he'd met while working in law-enforcement. And Cassus Angelo was part of that group. "Thanks for stepping in today. As you can see, the Coffee-Cup Manoeuvre has had better days. And I wouldn't be one to argue with you that. Not a very bright chap, that's for sure.", he said with a chuckle. "Yes, that was about one year ago, when I first started. As for the case against you, you and I both know very well why there conveniently wasn't a testimony. Four critical witnesses and their accomplices killed within three days? Two of them high-ranking mafia bosses who'd pledged to come forward with information? It seems like more than a coincidence, and that was enough to raise my eyebrows when you walked out of that courtroom. It's a shame that evidence can be killed off. Though I suppose that's a compliment to you seeing as we really had no other leads. You're pretty darn clean with your work."

Mallory waved down the other officers surrounding them and moved in closer to Cassus, whispering: "And you'll be glad to know that the corrupt Staff Sergeant working that case was convicted of obstruction of justice, among other charges, almost two months after. But I'm not here to bring up your skeletons in the closet. After all, why would you be here if it weren't to leave them behind, eh?" He gave him a wink and pat on the shoulder as he walked off to the ambulance outside where Bianca was taken by Paramedics. Although Cassus had written this "Joey" character off as a simple pawn, Mallory had a feeling in his gut that there was something more to it. As he was heading out the door, he caught Manny coming in from outside.

"Hey Jim, I'm sorry about that man. I just fucked up my aim. It's a miracle I didn't hit her or you." Manny said, with an exasperated look on his face.

"Don't sweat it. We're lucky we had Arnold Schwarzenegger here come over and stick a knife in him. Things could have turned out a bit differently. How is she?"

"I dunno, she's with the medics. I just got off the phone with the sarge. He says I'll take this case seeing as you've gone overtime for the last while."

"Look, I'd like to get involved with this since-"

"Jim, no. You look like hell man. Go home and get some sleep. Shack it up with that wife of yours, get that rest and relaxation you need and then come back. I've seen too many detectives burnout, man. And a lot of them go loco. Don't worry, I'll give that scut on your desk to one of them newbies we got now."

Mallory sighed. He was right. He didn't possess the mental or physical energy to tackle this at the moment. "Okay. But let me go and see the girl. I know her, and she might know what this guy was up to today. Send me updates when you get them, I'll be home."

"You damn well better be home, 'cause if I find you sneaking back into the office again, I swear Mallory, I'm gonna knock your ass out and put you on a plane to Hawaii." Manny guffawed. They did their quick little "secret handshake" that involved fist bumps and clapping hands, and the two detectives were on their way.

As he was opening the double doors to leave, he noticed a woman on the sidewalk with a worried expression on her face. Her expression wasn't what caught his eye though. It was her dress-she looked as though she litteraly traveled in time from the 1950's and wound up in modern-day Miami, Florida. Was she a witness? Maybe. I'll have to chat with her after. He tried not to stare as he walked to the ambulance, but he couldn't help it. She was incredibly pretty. And incredibly different.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Bianca Santiago Character Portrait: Rose Ellison Character Portrait: Mallory Lanning Character Portrait: Cassus Angelo
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The mans breath was hot on her neck, as if he were inhaling her scent. As she squirmed to greater the distance between them, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close - much like a body shield. His hands weren't shy to grope her curves, the barrel of his gun tangled within her tresses. Her hair had fallen from its place when he had grabbed her, the honey blonde strands all in disarray. Red rimmed, her eyes had yet to shed a tear but boy was she on the verge. Jerking her arm from his hold, he gripped her wrist forcefully with his free hand, twisting it behind her back. "Oh, you like it rough then, baby?" He said toyingly.

Whimpering, Bianca hunched over, unable to keep still. Her eyes stared at the floor ahead, her lips moving in the familiar prayers taught as a young girl in the Catholic Church. Every second stretched on for hours, and Bianca couldn't even get a view of her surroundings beyond the floor he had forced her to face. The man holding her hostage didn't lax until a voice familiar to both of them cut through the tension. "Joey?...."

Bianca twisted her neck to get a look at Cassus, noticing the familiarity between the two. Like two old chums sharing stories they fell into conversation like they had picked up wherever they left off. If it wasn't for the adrenaline making her delirious, she could've followed the conversation better, except once the cup hit the arm of her captor Bianca jumped at her opportunity - hiding herself beside her desk. Shots rang out, debris from the wall at the entry of the bullet spraying across Bianca's work space and despite the situation Bianca found the time to think about having to hear it from Yolanda later.

In the calm, she could hear the men's discussion. "It would be better for you to surrender." once again she could recognize Cassus' voice. However there was something in the morning rasp of his voice that sounded different, like there was a streak of danger she hadn't heard before.

"I... No way man. Sorry, but I have to do this. If I don't, I'm dead. Speak of which, you better leave town. As soon as the boss knows-" Desperation was obvious in his voice, until the sickening squelch of pierced flesh interupted his thoughts, followed by a thud as his body hit the floor. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, crimson staining his shirt and beginning to puddle beneath his weight.

Unable to speak, Bianca just stared at the man who had just held her life within his own hands, dead on the floor. Initially she couldn't tear her eyes from him, inching toward his corpse with mild curiousity. As her fingers slicked across the floor wet with blood she stalled, grimacing at her hand with disgust as she scooted several feet away - blood from her fingertips trailing the floor.

"Come with me." Said a gruff voice as a man swept down beside her. He hoisted her up effortlessly, offering his own suit jacket as a napkin for her bloodied hand. Bianca merely shook her head, although touched by his offer. "I'm Detective Manuel, we're just going to have some people look over you." Bianca allowed herself to be led outside, but not before glancing over her shoulder to see both detective Mallory and Cassus in deep conversation. As she was dragged past a striking woman with beautiful tattoos and a polished finished, Bianca smiled goofily. "I assure you Hotel Colony will compensate for any inconvenience." She laughed, as if it was a joke only she understood. Her mind was all over the place, it felt like taking thirteen shots and then popping some OxyContin to pull it all together. Strange how alive she felt after walking so close to death.

The paramedic was kind, offering Bianca water before proceeding to check over her for any injury, which Bianca was sure could only be figured out by a therapist. When she was done with her water she poured the remainder over her hand attempting to wash the blood away. However despite the abundance of water the red had already stained beneath the tips of her nails. As the paramedic disappeared in the front of her vehicle, Detective Mallory had reappeared at her side, a concerned expression scrawled across his face.

Weakly she smiled, cupping her now empty glass with both hands in her laps, struggling to look the man in the eye for the first time yet. "Hey," she mumbled, scratching the back of her head, "I'm just so relieved...I mean grateful - or both you know. ...Anyways just thanks, you really saved my skin." It was his direct action that had let her escape from Joey's grasp, and Bianca couldn't discredit that. Sighing the girl continued, "I went to college for four years and end up at some shitty job like this and just saw my life being toyed with like keys to a baby. I'm fine you know just," her fingers raked through her darkened roots as she blew out a breath, as if exhaling the negativity, "out of it.."

The paramedic returned, this time to make sure Bianca hadn't acquired a concussion, nodding cordially to the Detective "I'm fine really." Bianca said as the bright light of the woman's tool shined into her eyes.

The woman chuckled under her breath, "Thats what they all say, but you still have up to twenty four hours to go to the emergency room, just in case the adrenaline has you a little hazy." Her dulcet sweet voice left no room to argue, a genuine look of concern on her face. "No concussion, just let me clean up your knee and you'll be free."

".....my knee?" Glancing down, for the first time Bianca noticed the small gash on her knee, blood streaking down her shin and ruining her beautiful and expensive loafers. "Oh," she said softly, sheepishly glancing at the paramedic who had taken a grin of amusement. Absently, Bianca kicked off her shoe to pick up later, the woman being kindly enough to wipe her skin clean before bandaging the wound.

"Okay, you're free. Remember - twenty four hours. You get any aches or pains you let us know." Bianca had stood immediately, slipping her shoe back on and glancing at the woman as she spoke. The woman draped her arm around Bianca casually, "be safe now. And you watch over her detective." The woman said with a wink to Detective Mallory. If the two continued to converse, Bianca wouldn't have known. It was in that moment she felt the familiar vibration of her phone in her blazer pocket. Excusing herself, Bianca stepped aside to take the phone call.

"Mija, estas bien?" Her fathers worried voice asked. Bianca scanned her surroundings, sighting the news van which was most likely the source of her fathers panic for her well being.

"I'm fine papí, just a little shook up."

"I'm going down there right now-"

"No, I'm fine papí don't even! I'm fine, everything's fine, you don't have to run to my rescue every time something goes wrong." She griped, rolling her eyes. Fernando undoubtedly would run to the ends of the earth for his little girl, but the man had a history of blowing off work for all sorts of reasons which didn't sit well with the owner at the auto shop. Although a talented mechanic, Fernando had the chronic problem of blowing off responsibilities. Bianca always had to talk him down from running to her side at the smallest of issues.

She could practically hear him thinking through the phone, not even realizing she was holding her own breath until he spoke again. "Okay, but don't expect me to let this go." His thick accent making his English barely recognizable. The click of the call ending brought on a wave of relief, exhaling the breath she'd been holding. At the end of the day Bianca loved her father, but his temper was unreal and he would find someone to blame for his daughter being at risk.

Sighing, Bianca tucked her phone away, wrapping her arms around herself as if to assure that she was tangible, it all felt like just a bad dream.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Bianca Santiago Character Portrait: Rose Ellison Character Portrait: Mallory Lanning Character Portrait: Cassus Angelo
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(Idky I keep posting repeats urgh!)

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Character Portrait: Bianca Santiago Character Portrait: Rose Ellison Character Portrait: Mallory Lanning Character Portrait: Cassus Angelo
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(Ignore)

Setting

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Character Portrait: Bianca Santiago Character Portrait: Rose Ellison Character Portrait: Mallory Lanning Character Portrait: Cassus Angelo
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(Ignore)

Setting

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Character Portrait: Bianca Santiago Character Portrait: Rose Ellison Character Portrait: Mallory Lanning Character Portrait: Cassus Angelo
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(Ignore)

Setting

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Character Portrait: Bianca Santiago Character Portrait: Rose Ellison Character Portrait: Mallory Lanning Character Portrait: Cassus Angelo
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It always amazed Cassus that the detective took his side. He had almost forgotten about that. Just because he was involved in the death of several criminals or corrupt cops, Detective Mallory thought of him as a good-hearted guy, maybe a vigilante like in Boondock Saints. In reality, Cassus was a criminal who killed other criminals at the bidding of criminals who had the money and the power to hire his services. He may have retired, but that didn't make him a good person. No, he was perfectly aware he wasn't a good person. He didn't buy in to the delusion that "I did what I had to do", nor did he subscribe to the martyrdom complex where he guilt-tripped himself through all the people he had murdered. The former attitude was that of someone pretending to be good. The latter was someone who actually was good, albeit, repenting of past sins. Still, Cassus made the decision never to harm with Mallory. He might have been a killer, but he did have honor. At the compliment to his work, he smiled.

"Thank you, Detective. I never understood the macho approach to killing some of my former peers took. They always left witnesses and they never thought that people seeking vengeance would succeed in killing them. Of course, I didn't manage to stay unknown myself, but I never left witnesses. Witnesses that would talk, anyway," he stated with a shrug as he followed the cop.

He walked with the detective, sharing bits and pieces of news, perhaps a few bits that were unknown to the other. Eventually, they reached the double-doors.

"Joey would have had a chessmaster behind him. He or she is the one that is dangerous. Only someone with power or influence could throw away a hit man and have the influence and wealth to ensure nothing is traced back to them. Whoever he was looking for would provide a clue on who might be after him, but not enough to convict or even issue a warrant."

Cassus paused in his talk. Mallory's attention had drifted to a new face. He looked her up and down. She was dressed retro, perhaps a hipster trying to be cool? No, her clothing was too well-made and accurate. She was genuinely interested in the 50's era and it looked like Mallory had found her intriguing. Perhaps Cassus might have tried to lure her to his bed, but out of respect for the detective, he'd bow out.

He made his way to Bianca and she still looked in shock and quite worse for wear. Now, Cassus hated to see a pretty instrument in that manner.

"I assume that you told the cops everything, bella? Who he was looking for and where the target is now?" he asked her calmly. He waited for her reply before continuing.

"I'll escort you home. You can get a change of clothes whatever else we need. Then, we can take advantage of the hotel's finest luxuries. They owe you for what has happened to you on the job. If not, I'll pay for it. They can't discipline you for taking a day off now."

He smiled at her, this time giving her the comfort of an old joke between them, "The spa will do wonders in washing out that silly dye from your hair."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Bianca Santiago Character Portrait: Rose Ellison Character Portrait: Mallory Lanning Character Portrait: Cassus Angelo
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Rose watched the scene unfold with horror, her feet still glued firmly to the floor. She couldn't move, remaining statue like even as a second man approached the first. Their conversation was just that, rather cool considering the fact that the life of an innocent party was at stake. Her eyes flicked from one man to the other, when something completely different drew her attention.

Whatever noise the Brit was about to make when the man behind the pillar threw the coffee cup was strangled in her throat. For what felt like a long moment, her eyes lingered on the culprit; was he insane, or just trying to get the girl killed? The next few events happened rather quickly. The coffee cup collided with the hostage taker's head, the receptionist was released, and gunshots that were so much louder in reality that she thought.

American thriller film; shoot first, act second, think later. Blinking, Rosie found herself lying on the cold, hard floor, unsure if she fell, fainted or reacted subconsciously. 
She remained in place, cheek to the floor, looking away from the scene, her arms braced against the floor, in fear of further gunfire. She didn't move from her flat in crime ridden central London to get shot dead by police in nice hotel in a reasonably nice area of Miami. She nearly jumped out of her skin as she felt a plastic glove touch her arm, a broad Northern accent asking if she was okay. If she wasn't in some degree of shock, Rosie might have laughed. She had travelled half way around the world, to a city bustling with hundreds of thousands of people of all different cultures and nationalities, and out of all those people, it was a Northerner to find her here. The medic helped her clumsily to her feet, his lips were moving but Rose's brain had ceased to function; she couldn't hear what he was saying. Her eyes had come to rest on the body in a growing pool of blood, and it took a gentle but firm hand on her shoulder to coax her to move outside. 

A cup of warm liquid was pushed into her hand, and she sipped it eagerly. Rose caught sight of the receptionist as she was being led outside, sporting a goofy smile as she passed. "I assure you Hotel Colony will compensate for any inconvenience." The woman laughed, leaving Rose just a little concerned. She wasn't the only one in some degree of shock. After a moment or two, her fellow countryman returned with a smile on his face. 
"Well, you've gotten a bit of colour back into your cheeks, so that's a good sign. Thought you was going to pass out on me for a while."
He began checking her over quickly, for concussion first, then her blood pressure, sugars and one or two other checks to make sure she hadn't passed out from any untoward reasons. "Just in case that fiasco weren't enough, eh?"
Eventually he somehow gathered her accent from her monosyllabic answers and began chatting to her about the pleasures of being British in America, including the severe lack of decent tea, useless football teams, and substandard pubs. The first she agreed with; the latter two she couldn't care less about if she tried. It was rude, but she was simply in no mood for idle chit chat. Sure enough, he got the hint after a short period of time, and with a sheepish grin, wished her the best, and told her to keep warm, in company if possibly, and not to get too excited.

Rose's mobile had started to ring frantically, but she ignored it for now, folding her arms and staring back into the hotel. How long did a crime scene like this take to process? Would she need to stay somewhere else? All her things, quite literally all of them, bar the seventy dollars and visa card in her purse, and her tough-up make up and phone in her bag, were in her hotel room. She bit her lip in a moment of worry, before she thought she felt somebody watching her. Turning around wasn't a normal reaction; Rosie was only too aware that her appearance often drew attention to herself; often those who had the manners not to point, simply gawked at her. Usually if she caught them, she would shoot a smile and wriggle her fingers or come up with a beautifully clever comment. 

On turning and seeing two men watching her, Rosie didn't do either. She recognised both from the lobby, both not unattractive, but she wasn't entirely comfortable with them. In his defence, one of the men, the one who had been talking to the hostage taker, was being subtle about it. It was more like he was studying her, trying to analyse her choice in fashion rather than analysing what bra size she was. The other was obviously in his mid twenties, but had the vague expression of a teenager catching sight of the prettiest girl at school on his face. It was made more noticeable by the fact that he was trying desperately not to stare; Rose remembered herself at the last minute and spared him a wink and a smile. The poor bloke looked like he needed it.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Bianca Santiago Character Portrait: Ezra Borbon Character Portrait: Rose Ellison Character Portrait: Cassus Angelo
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Per usual, Ezra was unaware and misinformed. Up until the gunshots the boy had been sleeping with his arm around the smooth body of a naked woman. Her name was Agnes Wellington, the daughter of a local CEO and a hell of a kisser. She was one of the regulars, as much as Ezra didn't want to admit that he had regulars. She was slender and pale with coloring of a misty morning. Her eyes were a cool blue and her hair was blonde wrapped with strands of teasing red. She was without a doubt a beautiful woman. It wasn't just her outward appearance that had Ezra calling her for dinner and some fooling around, she was also remarkably witty and daring; qualities that the little Spaniard admired.

The night before was like most nights spent with his dear Agnes. He spent more money than intended on some five star entertainment and dinner for the lady and then spent the rest of the night having repeated sex. The date night wasn't unsual but the location was. Ezra had an organized club life and suitor life, and the evening before was supposed to had been a club night. He was sure that he would hear an earful from Bianca later. He was supposed to have gone out with her. Ezra, being the man he is, forgot. Then failed to even call her to apologize. Oh well. Having that woman mad at him wasn't too bad. Mostly he just found it either very funny or very arousing.

The commotion from downstairs woke him, though he was much too disoriented to recognize that the sounds were from a gun. In one smooth motion he turned over, pulled on a pair of boxers and then kissed the forehead of Agnes. She was still asleep, too worn out to be awakened. His hands trailed along her exposed side with pure intention, after his fingers picked the edges of her paper skin he brought the lush comforter up and around her torso. This action was mostly out of kindness, the other part was from distraction. The poor man was unable to focus with such perfect, plump breasts in front of him.

His left hand trailed through his hair as he stretched his back and started toward the bathroom. He might as well go down stairs and see what's going on, along with get some breakfast for the two of them. Ezra may be a man of many women but he never failed to impress them. He always always finished what he started, even if that meant he had an awkward morning breakfast with a girl he hadn't meant to sleep with. A shower, a some designer clothes later he was one his way out the door. His precious friend and lover was still fast asleep when he closed the door.

Confusion followed after, along with concern and then apathy. Whatever happened happened with Bianca, but the boy wasn't even able to comfort her. She was be led out by Cassus and quite frankly Ezra didn't much like that man. He kept his profile low but confident and he acknowledged the hotel's cafe was busy and headed out the front to find food elsewhere. His observations were not completely useless though, as he reached the door his eyes found a beautiful woman. She was new around her, probably a guest, but she was scaled with a collection of classy tattoos and had hair perfectly placed around her pale face. He would have to introduce himself later.