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Post by Samaire Hunt on Feb 12, 2010 19:48:41 GMT -5
Tonight was another performance. Just like the night before, and thus the night before last. Less than two weeks ago, street acting was thrilling but lately, she felt it becoming more like a chore. It was starting to claim most of her day, leaving little room to pursue other activities. Her mornings were spent sleeping in until her afternoon job called for her attention. Samaire had found a small part time job cleaning motel rooms at a local Motel 8 and by night, she was playing her violin for various themes. How far had she fallen from the spotlight? Far enough where people soon forgot about her name in NYC, Regina’s name flashed in its place. Samaire had arrived at the same spot where last night’s performance had taken place and dressed accordingly with what John asked for. By eight, the actors had started the presentation and drove straight through the whole thing with three block intermissions to change clothes or change actors for another scenario. During the intermissions, Samaire stood with two other musicians and played selected music for entertainment. Whatever proceeds she made went to the straight fund for them all. But what she kept from John was the simple fact that she played on some nights of her own on another street corner after everything to raise her own. By ten, the show had ended, the actors and musicians had placed away their belongings and the proceeds had been counted and split up. Eighty-seven dollars. With a larger disappointment than before, she placed it within her coat pocket and left the scene to follow up with her own. Walking down two blocks, Samaire finally stopped at one corner near a busy tavern street and placed her violin cases on the floor. Opening one, she set up the donation spot and placed up her sign. “Challenge me.” As Samaire opened the second case, she set up the secondary violin to see if someone would challenge her. Last night, she had made sixty extra dollars from the bet against a young woman who almost played as well as her. As Samaire placed the violin against her chin, she raised the stick and started playing her favorite tune to start off with. As she played, people stopped every now and then. Some stayed for the whole tune, but others passed after dropping whatever change they had available in their pockets. Tonight, she hoped, would turn up another thirty or fourty dollars so she could afford her rent next month.
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Post by Quin Contiello on Feb 15, 2010 4:31:31 GMT -5
It certainly was a relief that Amandine no longer wanted to kill him. But Tarquin did wonder whether he’d have preferred her continuous wrath over this.
They had come to the conclusion that it was no longer plausible that Amandine live with her former friends. ‘Former’, he said, due to their cowardice. They’d run away from Amandine when she was in trouble, and thus could not be considered true friends. Not in Tarquin’s opinion, anyway. And besides, they’d ask too many questions and they’d be in danger of their lives if Amandine continued to live with them.
And, he wanted her closer to home.
So they’d started the long winded process of moving her to his residence. Tarquin had never realised how tedious a job it was, especially being vampiric and only able to run around the city at night time. And he’d never had to deal with it when he’d first purchased his home, as Rima had done all the work for him. But Amandine insisted on doing it herself, and she was more than capable, too. But Tarquin was getting frustrated, tagging along.
They had to see real-estate agents about breaking her lease without losing her bond (she’d had to explain this to Tarquin in detail, as it was a concept completely foreign to him). He’d told her not to worry, and that any money lost he would recompense her with. But she wouldn’t hear of it. They had to organise removalists, and pay them overtime to come at night.
She’d told him she had things she had to do, and with a flurry of red hair she’d left him. But he’d followed her out of sheer boredom, and because she entertained him. They’d organised to meet at the corner of Squid and 50th. Or so he’d thought. On his way there, Tarquin passed by a pretty blonde with a violin.
It was an instrument Tarquin had only vaguely heard before—he’d seen them in the films he’d watched, heard them on the CDs Kali had made him listen to. But he’d never heard one in real life before, and it had him slowing his pace, nearly had his attention riveted. But he had to meet Amandine, so he passed by.
He waited on the next block for half an hour, and Amandine didn’t show. On the wind he could catch snippets of the harmonic instrument, and before long he found himself sauntering back to the pretty blonde. He simply stood and watched, once he reached her. He leaned idly against a pole, hands pushed into his pockets, allowing the music to envelope him and sooth him. If Amandine needed to find him, she knew how to do it.
For the moment, Tarquin allowed himself some relaxation. Maybe he’d even give the girl some money—he’d be a most generous benefactor, as he has more money to spare than he could really count.
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Post by Samaire Hunt on Feb 16, 2010 2:47:12 GMT -5
Samaire was too wrapped up into her music to notice what people walked by to either watch or just pass. Instead, she focused herself into the music that flowed from her fingertips as she played the song through. It was a good thing she could play for at least an hour with the songs that she had memorized from earlier days. Lately, she had no time to download any new songs and notes onto her computer to study later since she was hardly home. Tonight was a night she could have taken off but the tips had great.
Pressing her fingers against the strings, she played another tune that was more classical than her last few choices. She could feel the tension on each finger pad as she released each string just to press on it again. When she first started playing, it only took a few seconds for her fingers to start to feel numb. But as they say, practice makes perfect and she became very skilled in her form. When she finished a trio of classical songs, she dropped the violin down to her side and nodded towards the small gathering of people. A round of applause followed as she thanked people as they dropped change here and there.
Most people had cleared out of the immediate area, dispersing to where ever was holding the next source of entertainment. Pushing her hair from her face with her free hand, she dropped down into a slight kneeling position. Placing her violin into the case, she followed with the stick and all its contents before closing it up and snapping the locks shut. Looking up from the ground, she noticed a man leaning against a pole with his hand shoved into his pockets. She had seen him earlier but didn’t pay him any mind but now, he seemed to be the only person sticking around.
“Did you want to hear another song?” Samaire questioned, as she moved the first case behind the second with the setup. Tonight had not been as successful in challenging but looking at her tips, she think she had made a good forty dollars this evening. "I could play a few more if you wanted..."
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Post by Quin Contiello on Feb 17, 2010 7:41:21 GMT -5
The girl finished playing, and the audience started to filter away. They avoided looking at her, and most exited at a faster pace than others, as if they were trying to avoid having to tip the girl, and didn’t want to be discovered at having not done so. The girl started to pack up, And Tarquin shifted idly on his feet. He’d stood so long, like a statue—he’d allowed his thoughts no access, and had only been listening to the music. He’d forgotten why he was here and what he’d been doing previously. And it was only the impending silence that brought him back to his senses.
The girl asked whether he wanted her to play something else. Tarquin considered it—he tried to remember the names of some of the songs from his own lifetime; it took him a few seconds to reply.
No, no. I am waiting for someone. He said. He’d remembered Amandine, and wondered where she could be. And though he knew the red-head would no doubt have a few choice words to say to him, he did not seek her out. Not just yet. And he did not ask to hear a song from his own lifetime as he wasn’t even sure they were remembered, let alone by a young thing like this blonde.
You play very well. he told her, pushing himself away from the pole and digging in to his pocket. She had not yet closed the case which held all the coins—the tips given to her by the passer’s by. He sauntered closer to her, and dumped a mixture of notes and coins into the case—all up, probably around one hundred dollars. It was the majority of the money that he had on him at the time, but he knew he had plenty more to spare. It didn’t matter to him. He could thieve it back from some victim in the future.
He then leant forward and shut the case that contained the money, glancing up and down the street as he did so.
Keep it safe. Thieves...they are every where. He said with a wink. Of course he did not like that she was human, that she was alone, and that she was carrying so much money. But he decided that she looked experienced, and that she had probably dealt with this city longer than he had. He should have some faith in her capabilities.
And besides... had he not heard her wonderful music, she may very well have been a victim of his.
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Post by Samaire Hunt on Feb 22, 2010 0:03:28 GMT -5
Samaire didn’t seem to mind that people escaped without so much as leaving a small tip for her musical talent. In fact, she was pretty used to the treatment of people after living in NYC for such a long stint of her life. Though she had never had the need to play on street corners for money either. As he inched closer to her, she watched as he dropped a severe amount of money into the case. With a low whistle, she automatically looked up with a genuine smile towards him because she was surprised. Her cheeks blushed slightly at the comment of her musical skills.
“Thank you.” Samaire placed the second violin over the collection of money before he shut the case and she locked it. When both cases were secured within her hands, she stopped up from the kneeling position. Nodding at his warning of thieves around the city, she was well aware of the crime rates. Her first night into the city someone had broke into her meager apartment and stole four hundred dollars from her. It had been a low blow but she steadily bounced back by installing another set of locks to the door. She had also reminded herself that getting a deadbolt would not be such a bad investment either.
“Well honestly, I appreciate the warning. Ive had a run in or two but that’s why I usually don’t carry more than twenty dollars here or there.” She answered honestly, knowing that her father’s wisdom would come in handy one day or another. Looking towards this stranger, she was about to ask him something completely random and out of character for her. “Look, I know you are waiting for someone but do you possibly have some time for one drink? You tipped me so well tonight that I feel sort of bad, it’s the least I can do.”
Moving the two cases into one hand, she lifted her free hand to push away the stray blonde hairs that fell into her face. Looking back and forth down the streets, she hoped that no one was coming soon. “By the way, my name is Samaire Hunt.”
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Post by Quin Contiello on Feb 24, 2010 1:51:40 GMT -5
Tarquin was disinclined to accept the girl’s offer. For she was exactly that—just a girl. She had a way with music, it was true. But if not playing that violin of hers, she was all too human, and all too appealing because of it. Somewhere, deep down, Tarquin’s inner-beast smirked. He could accept her offer of a drink... and she would be paying for it, too. She’d be paying with her life. Yes, her blood would be sweet and untainted, or so he assumed.
But it was for a completely different reason that he finally decided to accept.
In the back of his mind there was a nagging feeling. Someone close to him trying to find him. There was only one person close enough to care, and only one person who produced that kind of nagging feeling. Amandine. They were supposed to have met, and yet he couldn’t find her. It was past the due time, so she was no doubt trying to find him. He could have sent her a telepathic message, told her where he was and how she could find him. Hell, he could have even made his way to her. But where was the fun in that?
Besides, there were many things he did to try to teach Amandine how to hone her skills. She needed to learn how to track him down, and she wouldn’t learn if he made it easy for her. So he would make it hard. It would be more difficult to track down a moving target than it was to find a stationary one.
Samaire. I would like a drink. he said, smiling honestly.
Better to spend the money than have it taken, eh? And the woman I am waiting for...she can find me. it was a vague comment, accompanied by a wink. The night was finally taking a slightly more entertaining turn, and it put Tarquin in a brighter mood than he had been beforehand.
I am Tarquin Contiello. He said. Unlike with Amandine, and anyone he’d introduced himself to beforehand, he was finally able to pronounce the last name like it ought to be pronounced. Perhaps it was the new Italian he was learning, and Amandine’s insistence on him speaking it correctly.
He offered an arm to Samaire, then, though he allowed her to lead the way to wherever it was she wanted to go.
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Post by Amandine Rossi on Feb 24, 2010 1:59:49 GMT -5
Amandine had offered to draw up a map of their meeting spot. In fact, both Rima and herself had contemplated printing out a set of directions for him to follow, but he had not wanted to hear a single word about it. If humans and vampires were to be considered different species, then it was about high time the sexes were separated into two distinct categories too. Men, by far the most self-indulgent and exasperating race of living (and nonliving) creature alive. She had not sought to step on his toes and left him to his own devices. The firecracker warned him of the consequences if he made her wait, more than once, even as he was closing the front door on her. Tarquin had dragged her into this life unwillingly and promised she would come to like it, but he better keep his side of the bargain by fulfilling the expectations. The tip of her heel tapped impatiently against the pavement as she looked to either side of the road. It was in his best interest that his gallant little self materialize amongst the unfamiliar faces, else there would be hell to pay. In fact, unless he had a dammed good reason why he was late to begin with, he would witness her wrath regardless of how soon he appeared. And yet, no matter how many threats she conjured in her mind, he did not appear. Wasn’t she able to send him some psychic message or something? The man better get himself a cell phone, because she could not be bothered to figure out these mind games. Collapsing against the trunk of a tree, Amandine reached up to collect her hair into a high ponytail. The number of distractions available to her were growing thin, and her mind was beginning to wonder. Perhaps something had happened to him? She wouldn’t put it passed him to purposely delay so that she would feel guilty about being so angry, but she was beginning to worry. Taking a deep breath as she eyed a passing couple, the redhead forced herself to figure out this telepathy thing she had tapped into unknowingly before. Instead of finding any channel though, she was able to feel his presence... Furrowing her brow, she winced her eyes shut and pushed herself off the tree as she tried to pin-point where he was. All she could figure out was the general direction in which he was, but there was nothing keeping her from making these things up. Having waited long enough, the redhead sought to disprove this notion she had as to his whereabouts, and began to make her way along the crowded sidewalks. As she walked, she pulled on the lapels of her brocade jacket, the one he had purchased for her two nights prior, her ponytail swaying from side to side as her boots’ heels sounded noisily against the cement.
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Post by Samaire Hunt on Mar 1, 2010 21:21:13 GMT -5
A smile crossed her lips when he accepted.
As Samaire listened to him speak about another woman having the ability to find him, her smile faded into a smirk. When he winked towards her, she couldn’t help but feel as if she was stealing him somehow. Whoever this woman was that he spoke of, she wouldn’t press on it just in case she heard something she didn’t like. If he was married and loved his wife, he would have turned her down. It was not like she was asking him to accompany her home for the evening, it was a simple drink and she could have used the company.
“Well, for now, her loss is my gain.” Samaire commented as she listened to his name. Her smile had returned when she heard him pronounce it, because his name was exotic. No one had interesting names anymore. “It’s nice to meet you Tarquin. Do you have something else you preferred to be called?”
It was not that she could not pronounce his name or it had been a mouthful but sometimes people had nicknames. Samaire was often called “Sam” for short by her close friends and family. Though she left that little portion out, she would be able to get to know him for tonight only. Unless he wanted to keep this sort of thing on a regular basis, she would not object. Looking up at him, she studied the rugged features that displayed this man. Tarquin was a handsome man and she wasn’t about to let it pass her by.
When he offered his arm for her, Samaire linked her arm with his and carried the two cases in the other hand. Leading the way, she steered them across the street and down the block where a quaint little piano bar offered a welcoming presence when it was entered. She hated crowded bars that were filled with smoke and loud music--there was no point in getting to know him in one of those. It was for one night stands and friends only, but she was going to become personal with him if she wanted and here would be a perfect place.
“I hope this place is alright. Its a piano bar I love coming to. The music is local people who show off for talent agents." Samaire explained as the reached the front of the bar. What would you like to drink once we get inside?”
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Post by Quin Contiello on Mar 7, 2010 1:40:05 GMT -5
No, there is nothing else I prefer to be called. He said as the started to lead them away from the street corner and presumable to some kind of bar or cafe. She hadn’t indicated whether the ‘drinks’ she referred to were alcoholic or otherwise, so Tarquin was keeping an open mind.
But you can call me something else, if you prefer it. He said. He’d not had trouble with his first name, as it was the name he remembered being called by. Anything else that came before that first eventful win in the gladiatorial ring was a blur. When one lived forever, the memories started to slip away. It was only his time as a gladiator that he remembered vividly, anyway. Those stark moments when his life was in the balance—those were the times he remembered. Every other trivial human memory or instinct had long been lost to the centuries that passed him by. Thus, if he had ever had another name, he couldn’t remember it.
It didn’t take long for them to reach the bar. A piano bar, or so Samaire informed him as soon as neared it. She’d expressed her hope that it was alright, and Tarquin shrugged as his mouth shifted into a frown of indifference. He didn’t mind where it was that they went to, but this place was charming and quiet. It didn’t clamour against his senses or make him claustrophobic. All in all, it was to his liking.
Tarquin had no idea what ‘talent agents’ were either, but he didn’t let Samaire cotton on to the fact.
Something strong. He said in answer to her question. Alcohol didn’t affect him much, though since he’d last tasted the stuff it had packed quite a punch. But it was the strong stuff that he could pretend had some kind of effect. The fumes were enough to make a person dizzy. And though his body may not absorb the alcohol in the same way as a human’s might, his senses could still enjoy it.
They stepped through the doors of the establishment and made their way toward the bar, which was relatively empty for this time of night. There were still a few people around, however, and some sweet young girl over on the stage singing, whilst playing an acoustic guitar. It wasn’t bad.
As soon as Tarquin was seated he glanced toward the windows, half expecting to see a head of fiery red hair. But she hadn’t found him yet. He glanced down at his watch (which he couldn’t live without, now that he knew how it worked) and proceeded to time her. How long would she take to master her ability to find him without specific instructions? Better yet, what would she do when she got here?
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Post by Amandine Rossi on Mar 7, 2010 3:31:30 GMT -5
Amandine’s swagger caused a few gazes to linger on her form as her heels clicked against the pavement, creating a monotonous beat. She only bothered to glance over her shoulder and glare at one of the men who yelled a lewd remark her way, and when she did the blood in his face drained; the man may have been lecherous, but at least he wasn’t daft. The distraction caused her to lose sight on the inkling she had regarding Tarquin’s whereabouts however, and with a snarl her feet came to a stop. Reaching backwards to tighten her ponytail, she glanced down either side of the street corner she’d come upon.
Closing her eyes, she tried to tune out the humans and find him. It was to no avail. She knew she was close for she could feel him closer than before, but she could do no better than that. Sighing as she opened her eyes, Amandine set her palms on either outer thigh and began to walk, this time at a slower pace. For many minutes she walked, in the general direction of his presence, though she could find nothing tangible about it. Slipping her hands into the front pockets of her jeans, she jaywalked across the street as she saw Amethyst Lounge up ahead.
The redhead gave up on her quest to find her sire, and thus decided on making a stop at the lounge on her way back home. Surely Tarquin had gone on about his business this evening and blown her off; he was as headstrong as a bull and was probably trying to assert his dominance or independence or something... Reaching forward with one hand, she pushed one of the swinging doors open and made her way into the dainty venue. She had been here many times before, even considered sleeping with the bartender on one occasion to make it onto the stage.
There were not many people to weave past in order to make it to the bar, which was why as soon as the scent hit her she was able to spot the presence it belonged to. Odd indeed, though the bemusement was set aside as she realized why she was even here to begin with. Locking eyes with him, she narrowed hers and briefly glanced at the back of the blonde’s head. Human.
Pulling on the hem of her jacket, Amandine sidestepped a group of people at the bar and made her way up to him. Reaching forward with one hand, she delicately cupped his cheek as she leaned towards his ear, pulling his head towards her. Plush lips parted over the flesh right beneath his earlobe, and her fangs roughly punctured the skin; a vindictive bite out of any major blood source's way. Pulling back to evenly stare back at him, the vampire delicately patted his cheek once, and roughly the second time; the smacking sound was drowned by that of the music. Then she moved her body to stand next to him, looking over the blonde he was facing.
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Post by Samaire Hunt on Mar 11, 2010 19:12:53 GMT -5
Samaire could not help but smile.
Tonight was turning out to be a nice change of pace due to the new company she had gained. Even if it was for just this one evening, she didn’t mind one bit. This man was charming enough, and he had not tried to steer her towards her apartment instead. Watching him for a moment she mentioned it being a piano bar, she waited for him to comment on going somewhere else. Most of the people she frequented with liked going to loud noisy taverns ingested with smoke and bad breath. To her surprise, Tarquin didn’t complain at all, no he looked like he would enjoy something like this. The Amethyst Lounge was the best place to escape from the craziness of the world around them.
“Not a problem.” Samaire nodded, upon leaning onto the bar counter and flagging down one of the bartenders. The woman whose attention she captured smiled upon seeing her and addressed her by the first name. It was clear that she was a patron of this small humble place. “Kat, get him whatever he would like and I will have the special of the night please.”
“No worries.” Kat nodded from behind the counter before looking expectantly towards Tarquin. “Sir, what would you enjoy?”
While Tarquin was ordering his drink, Samaire turned her attention towards the stage to the acoustic guitar player. With a smirk, she squinted to see if she recognized her at all. It was a very good chance that she would since she came here at least once a week and dedicated musicians were here almost every night. Perking her eyebrow for a moment, she looked away from the stage to Tarquin who was peering from the window to his watch. Was he waiting for someone? How would that person know how to find them? Had he planned on coming here? Those questions occupied her mind as she looked towards the counter to see a blue mixture of alcohol swirling in a margarita glass.
“Are you sure you don’t need to be somewhere else right now?” Samaire questioned, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. Though he already announced that he was waiting for someone, she hoped that it would turn out wrong. Before she could say anything else, the redhead who had entered into the lounge had waltzed up to Tarquin. Samaire said nothing as she watched the woman press her lips to his neck followed by a rather loud slap to the side of his face. That would leave a mark. Samaire’s eyes widened as she turned her body towards the redhead. “Your husband? Boyfriend? Fiancée?”
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Post by Quin Contiello on Mar 13, 2010 23:47:08 GMT -5
“Cognac, on the rocks.” Tarquin told the bartender. The words were accompanied by half a smile; he enjoyed saying that, on the rocks. It was a modern term that he’d been thoroughly confused by, the first time he was confronted by it. Samaire was distracted by whoever was on stage while the tender brought them their drinks, and Tarquin took hold of his appreciatively.
And then Samaire’s attention was returned, and Tarquin shrugged. There was somewhere else he should have been, though he couldn’t quite figure whether he would have preferred to be there. He was indifferent. He couldn’t arrange his thoughts into a coherent answer, however, before they were approached by a striking red-head. He knew she’d been coming. He’d known as soon as she’d entered the establishment. In fact, he’d caught her eye momentarily as soon as she’d entered the door.
No, there was nowhere he’d be prefer to be but here. This was far more entertaining than what his evening was originally supposed to be.
Amandine sidled up beside them, reaching forward in what appeared to be an affectionate gesture but was everything besides. Tarquin’s fingers tightened upon his drink as the canines momentarily pierced his skin. He remained steadfast as he received the dull slap on his cheek. Oh yes, she was angry. Now things would get interesting.
“Red!” He said, greeting her with the name she’d previously shown dislike for. Amandine had turned to Samaire, as if waiting for some kind of explanation. And Samaire’s question indicated that she, too, wanted some kind of explanation.
“This is Samaire. Samaire, this is Amandine.” He offered, the only explanation that he would give. He then eyed Amandine with interest, eyes widened; how exactly would she define their relationship? He, too, was interested in the answer that Samaire had asked.
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Post by Amandine Rossi on Mar 14, 2010 0:59:04 GMT -5
“He’s nothing that you can’t have,” she replied dismissively at both of them, eyeing Tarquin as she extended her hand towards Samaire to shake. After all, the blonde had been forward, so would she. Whether the poor girl was at fault or not for Tarquin standing her up, Amandine had little interest in finding out; everyone would be a victim to her bad mood. The fact was that Tarquin and herself were to meet somewhere where he had not showed up as expected; instead was here, sharing a drink with a human. The redhead briefly wondered what the man’s intentions were, and why, if Samaire was a meal (which was the choice she preferred amongst the few that came to mind), was he being so gallant? Didn’t he usually pluck people out of crowds and feed on them? Or was she the new apple in his eye? His latest... well, if she was red, then this girl would be yellow. Amandine did not like the doubt that surfaced as she thought back to their undefined relationship; tonight she would sleep in another room. In fact, it would probably be for the best that she find herself a room of her own in that massive house of his.
Retrieving her hand and smoothing the surface of her jacket, the redhead stepped aside, finding herself the third wheel in their current set up. Slipping against the back of Tarquin’s chair, Amandine beckoned the bartender and offered him one of the sweetest smiles. Flirtingly blinking her eyes up at him, she inquired about the best champagne in the house, knowing fully well the Alexandra rosé was limited and expensive. Upon hearing that name fall from his lips, the redhead chuckled audibly and told him to bring one forth.
“It’s on him...” she motioned, sliding her hand over Tarquin’s shoulder lovingly until the tender turned his heel to get a bottle for her.
Amandine was well aware of how things went here. Both as an artist and art student herself, she knew fully well how things worked here. Pretty girls, older men, charm... When one stripped this place of music and talent, it was nothing more than a indirect chain of prostitution. It was unheard of that a manager not take advantage of the extents at which some of these young and naïve artists would go to taste fame. The closest they’d get to fame though, was the expensive champagne on some idiot’s wrinkly mouth. No, she knew fully well how it worked; her sponsor had not offered her support without receiving something on his end. In fact, as she glanced at Tarquin out of the corner of her eye, she decided to regard him as nothing more than that. He housed her and provided for part of her finances, and in exchange she shared his bed. Yes, there was no such thing as love or romantic attachment between them. Leaning her weight onto her elbows, forearms skywards as she linked her hands over the countertop, Amandine would demonstrate the lack of interest by ignoring them. Whatever his plan was, she wouldn’t interfere.
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Post by Samaire Hunt on Mar 18, 2010 9:55:57 GMT -5
Samaire watched the interaction between the two.
There was no doubt in her mind that those two had some kind of dysfunctional relationship ongoing between them. Perking both eyebrows, she reached for her drink on the bar counter and swallowed a long swig. As much as she enjoyed the alcohol burning down her throat, it didn’t relieve the tension in the situation. When she finished swallowing, she placed the glass back onto the counter before Tarquin introduced the two women to one another. In Samaire’s mind, there was two ways she could handle this situation but she didn’t want trouble tonight. On one hand she could flip a 180 personality change and accuse the man of being a two-timing man whore or she could play nice.
“Pleasure to meet you Amandine.” Samaire opted for the second option.
It was by no means tucking her tail between her legs, she was playing the situation to her advantage. If Amandine wanted to turn the situation ugly, it would look bad on her part and Samaire could walk away unscathed. The reaction for the other woman didn’t surprise her at all when she made her comment, but Samaire let it roll off her. If she had been hurt by every rude person, she would not have made it as far as she did in the stage industry. Though the comment that brewed in the back of her mind was also tempting her to announce it aloud but she also refrained from doing so. Instead, she looked towards Tarquin and offered a comfortable smile in this awkward situation.
Samaire studied the other woman for a few minutes before making a rather bold move away from Tarquin’s side to Amandine. “What is it that you do, Amandine, if you don’t mind me asking?” As she slid in beside her, Samaire placed her back towards the stage to focus on how the redhead would react. It was an intrusive move to make but she was too interested to see what would happen. It didn’t help that Samaire was also making another observation of her own for another potential companion. Both male and female made good companions whether it be for friendship or more, she wouldn’t be choosy tonight.
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Post by Quin Contiello on Mar 25, 2010 5:36:12 GMT -5
As always, Tarquin relished the challenges that Amandine provided him with. He’s nothing that you can’t have might have been a statement that would throw most men off, make them desperate to be something else, something more important. The statement implied that Tarquin was nothing to Amandine, and that he could be defined in whatever way Samaire wished to define him in.
Being unaccustomed to the contemporary liquor standards, Tarquin was also oblivious to what Amandine had just done, or how much money he’d have to fork out at the end of this little meeting. Whatever the case, it didn’t bother him. He had enough money to spare on Amandine’s frivolities. The bartender had spared a glance for Tarquin as soon as Amandine had asked for the drink, and Tarquin had nodded.
So the challenge was thus: Tarquin had to make sure that Amandine realised that he did mean something to her. Of course, he didn’t know that he did. He wasn’t privy to her innermost thoughts or philosophies. So perhaps the challenge was forked—make her realise that he should mean something to her. He shouldn’t be something that anyone else could have, at their own pleasure.
To begin with, he’d have her assume that Samaire didn’t mean much to him. Not in the way that she might have already assumed, that is. In fact, Samaire so far had only displayed one aspect of herself that Tarquin found fascinating, and worth holding on to—it was her way with music. Tarquin enjoyed music more than most. He preferred, as always, the classical kind. All types of music seemed decidedly after his time. But the classical music battered his senses less than most other music.
Samaire helped Tarquin, and she didn’t even know it. She’d ignored him and had instead gone to stand on Amandine’s opposite side. She seemed fascinated by Amandine and her practices, and though Tarquin felt a small amount of misgiving at having been disregarded by both women so easily, he didn’t allow the insignificant emotion affect him.
“Excuse me, ladies. I’m going to...” He gestured vaguely toward the men’s room, frowning and nodding as he did so. They would know what he meant. Before he slipped off his stool, his glance rested upon Amandine; catching her eye, he winked once, nigh inconspicuously. She knew that he had no reason to need to use the men’s room. His intention would be unknown.
Ah, sometimes he felt like he was living only to frustrate her.
Before either of them could protest, Tarquin has slipped away, and was meandering his way through the meagre crowd, obviously in no rush.
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