What We Seem

[shauna_silkov]

On a vicious pair of heels, Shauna stood in the dim light of the public restroom and studied her reflection. She saw a tall twenty-seven-year-old with carrot red hair, freckles, a snub nose, and blue eyes, the lashes spiked with mascara. One cheek bulged with an ice cube sucked from her highball glass. She leaned closer to apply lip gloss. Her breath fogged the mirror, one puff from her nose, another from her pursed mouth. She was sexy rather than pretty; that realization had come late in her teens. There was a niche market for redheads but bold sexual availability appealed broadly. She straightened and capped her lip gloss. Stowed it in a clutch purse.

Shauna was a thief. She had learned from a series of bad influences, some pedaling coke, others jewels, sex, timeshares, expensive watches, celebrity company. In her early twenties, she became an asset of a group of like-minded people, helmed by a woman named Saoirse who called once or twice a week and told Shauna what to steal. Sometimes she delivered the property; other times she converted it to cash first. The threat of jail time was real, but she couldn’t imagine another life. She was a woman who appreciated a rapid pulse, a stress sweat, a quick dash from a hotel room. Even the feel of her finger on a trigger appealed. She had pulled it three times. Blood, like anything, lost its shock value after a while.

She fluffed her hair, adjusted the spaghetti straps of her dress, and left the vanity.

Outside, the cocktail lounge bustled with people. Where others saw a dip of cleavage, the clean lines of a sharp suit, Shauna saw a diamond tennis bracelet, a bulging wallet, a Rolex, a pair of unattended car keys. She didn’t want money. She wanted a challenge. She kept looking.

[Thread: Open to Isaac]

Comments

[everlastingwrath]

Isaac contrary to popular belief did take down time despite his proclivity towards working long unhealthy hours and being ridiculously mission focused, which might explain how his legs had carried him into the cocktail lounge in pursuit of a good whiskey. He hadn't had a good whiskey since he'd started on Simone's trail and if he couldn't get a good drink in Las Vegas of all places then there really was no hope.

He looked out of place amongst the sharply dressed clientèle, but that didn't seem to set him ill at ease. If anything Isaac carried himself with an effortless confidence which exuded past the clothing and filled the space around him, he knew who he was and was comfortable in that fact. It didn't matter to him what anyone else thought and if somebody had issue with him then he was rather direct about it, heading off ill feelings long before they could blossom into a bubbling seething disdain which as he well knew could cultivate something darker.

"Whiskey," he muttered gruffly, accent thick, "Neat."

None of that bullshit ice, especially when all it did was dilute the taste and take away that bite that Isaac enjoyed. What was the point of drinking if you couldn't feel it? The bartender gave a nod and made it his business to make the dark haired man his drink, not wanting to get on the wrong side of him, especially as he looked as though he handled things in a very physical way if needs be.

A cursory look gave Isaac knowledge of the exits and the placement of the crowd around him as well as the person to his right and the empty stool to his left and once he was sure he knew enough he allowed himself the time to shrug out of his leather jacket, a littering of tattoos filled the space of his right forearm.

[shauna_silkov]

As she exited the bathroom, a napkin stuck to the bottom of Shauna’s shoe. She bent her knee and scraped the spike on the wall. The hemline of her cocktail dress crept up. A man with a thick, black mustache leaned back in his chair to get a better vantage point. She boxed his ear and walked the circumference of the room in search of a good seat. A jazz band played How High the Moon in the far corner, the mocha-skinned singer glowing blue under the mood lights.

A stool had opened at the bar. Shauna set her purse on the counter and climbed onto the plush cushion between an elder blonde and a man with a scowl. In the brief time that she faced him, she assessed the jacket he had strewn across his lap. He was under dressed but the article of clothing was expensive and well cared for. She smelled the leather from where she sat.

“Have you got a headache?” she asked.

[everlastingwrath]

Isaac's senses prickled the moment the attractive woman sat to his right, conscious and hyper aware of how easily she had plucked her way through the crowd and made herself comfortable beside him. Paranoid was a one word way to sum up Isaac, but he had learned to be through long life experience and he tended not to shy away from his instincts. Not when they could mean the difference between life and death.

"Headache?" He drawled in that Georgian accent which in his current company seemed more out of place than his attire, hazel gaze flickering over to the woman and observations being made about how she was dressed. It was attention grabbing no doubt about that so she was either here to find somebody to take home or she had other reasons for looking the way she did. Not that Isaac liked to make assumptions.

He passed over money as his drink came to rest in front of him and a slow considering sip was taken. "Not last time I checked."

[shauna_silkov]

As conversation openers went, it wasn’t her best, but Shauna wanted to be harmless. At least for now. “Must have been the scowl,” she said, taking a more comfortable position on her stool, although her eyes didn’t leave his face. A finger with a French manicure tapped the space between her eyebrows to indicate where a crease darkened his expression.

He was scowling and southern, if her ears had picked up the accent correctly. Hers was from the west coast, a relaxed, loose way of speaking, punctuated by a rare odd-sounding syllable, thanks to her parents’ European dialects.

“I’ll have a vodka with a splash of grapefruit juice,” she told the bartender. A pearl bracelet slipped over the small bones of her wrist. When she rested it alongside his, the dusting of hair on their arms touched for a moment. The movement was choreographed but brief.

[everlastingwrath]

"Hate to disappoint, but this is how I look pretty much all the time," Isaac shared. He was long past vapid smiles and insincere happiness, especially with what he did and some of the things he'd seen and done. Hard to pretend like the world was all colourful and bright when you'd seen more shadows than most encountered in a lifetime. Jaded and nihilistic were but a few words to describe Isaaac Chambers, but it was better that way, less chance of turning up dead.

His ears picked up on her own strange sounding voice especially on particular syllables and it indicated to him that she wasn't native not the same way the others were around him. A sip was taken, his mind whirring to locate the origin of that accent, trying to place a piece of the puzzle to form a complete picture.

Then his attention turned to the flicker of a touch and he snorted. "You're barking up the wrong tree, lady. Why not try your luck with mister big and blonde over there?" He gestured to the man in question with a finger who was sure enough tossing the lady a look inbetween sipping at his beer. "Pretty sure you'd have more fun with him this evening."

[shauna_silkov]

Shauna’s mouth parted and she laughed, a harsh, surprised noise. She felt like a child with her hand caught in the cookie jar, only she hadn’t been going for the cookies so much as a silver serving spoon.

“Dream on, asshole,” she sniped. “I wasn’t trying to screw you. I was going to steal your wallet.”

The vodka arrived. She snatched it from the bar and poured it into her mouth, not stopping until she hit bottom. She used the back of her hand to wipe the excess from one corner of her mouth. “It’s just easier when you’re staring at my tits. Maybe I brought the wrong equipment.” The smile was like daggers.

[everlastingwrath]

Isaac snorted, slightly amused when the pretty perfect image slipped away and was replaced with a much harsher visage. Clearly she was a master of manipulating perspective to get what it was she wanted and his wallet had been on her hitlist as it were.

"Or you're just not my type," he pointed out with a cool expression and eyes which were seemingly void of any real emotion. "And you wouldn't have gotten far on what I have in my wallet so you've probably caught yourself a lucky break."

He knocked what remained of his drink back and settled the empty glass on the bar.

[shauna_silkov]

“Oh, I bet you’re so selective,” Shauna said in a soothing voice. The redhead spun on the stool and crossed her freckled legs. She inspected him from head to toe, the casual outfit, the well-worn boots, the scruff on his neck. “Exactly how many tattoos does a woman need to turn you on?” She brightened. “I know! I should have ordered a beer and popped the cap with my teeth.” She tilted her head and the blunt ends of her bob tickled her jaw.

[everlastingwrath]

Isaac's eyebrow arched at her questions and he soon gave a soft snort as she presumed to know his type. Apparently the lady didn't like it when people caught her out if her remarks were anything to go on. "Tattoos wouldn't hurt," he did confirm with a pointed look. "But you're way off with the other thing."

Truth be told Isaac hadn't really looked twice at a woman since he'd come back from the war, hadn't really wanted to get invested, it was too exhausting. Besides, he had other things to be focusing on such as picking off monsters and making the world a safer place.

But he had found himself wondering what did or didn't make a monster considering the things he'd seen and done during his time away from home and on foreign shores.

"Try again if you want, see if you can hit a bit closer to the mark."

[shauna_silkov]

Shauna’s eyes narrowed, the gears in her skull turning, grinding through the possibilities of this man with more steel in his eyes than brown. Was he a married man without a ring? Was he waiting for someone else? Or was it the simpler explanation: he was a condescending jackass who enjoyed cutting women down to size?

Then, something in her seemed to shift. “Alright,” she said. “I’ll give it one more try.”

She inched the hem of her cocktail dress up her leg and eyed him, then brought it higher, past the point where the man had gotten boxed just for looking. She gave him a coy smile just as she reached the barrel of an ultra compact handgun. “How about this?”

[everlastingwrath]

Most people would have left him be which was what Isaac had been banking on with this lady, but it would seem she was either very stubborn or not easily put off. Whichever it was she was still persisting where others would have just walked off, leaving him to nurse his drink alone. Truth be told that's how Isaac liked it, the less connections he had the easier it was to move on and leave cities behind.

Isaac's attention drifted and almost immediately his eyes soaked up the gun tucked away rather nicely against the lady's thigh, eyebrow arching. "Now you're talking," he murmured as he took note of the gun itself, finding its make and model in the memory and knowledge banks from his time spent handling more firearms than most.

There was something in her regard that told Isaac that she wasn't afraid of using the handgun and he could relate to that, better than most. "You should've opened with that," he drawled with a smirk.

[shauna_silkov]

“Ha… Opened with a gun?” Shauna’s eyebrows climbed. “Sure. I want another,” she called sharply to the bartender as he passed by. Beneath the bar, her fingers lowered the hem of her dress. “This isn’t a bank robbery.” She had done those. It was a different game from petty theft, a larger thrill, a greater risk, a bigger compensation. The redhead fiddled with the hair at the nape of her neck. “I wanted something to take the edge off. Five dollars.. five hundred dollars… It isn’t always about how much.”