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 Posted: Wed Sep 03, 2008 4:36 pm
"Parents seem to work in tangent like that. Must come from living together for extended periods of time. Mine do it when they're angry about something." Ivie's hand had gone to tuck some stray curls behind her ear self-conciously as Nye brought her up and Melissa, a little deflated that she'd been pushed so effortlessly into the 'Friends Zone', made the cusorary glance at her red-headed friend's locks.
"I did notice she actually looked like she'd done something with it." She mused, reaching over to tug at once of the girls. Ivie batted her away. "Ivie's known for getting a trim and returning as if nothing's different. It's kinda annoying, really."
"It's my hair." Ivie grumbled, nomming some more of her cake. "I really don't see why you people nag me all the time. Oh! Thank you!"
She reached over and took the envelope, opening it and glancing inside. "Oh gods, I look terrible." She mumbled, pulling them out of Melissa's reach.
"Ivie, you're back on shift!" Came that annoying voice from the staffroom. Ivie let out a whine, before standing and picking up her mostly empty plate.
"Hate to run like this, but I've gotta fly. Melissa, will you give Nye my number please? See you, Nye!" And with that the red-head had scurried down the corridor, back to the bedpans and hospital food.
Melissa let out a low whistle under her breath and a smirk, scribbling down Ivie's mobile and home number on a stray card that was lying around. "Sooooo~ Care to tell me what's up with you too?" She smirked wickedly.
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Posted: Wed Sep 03, 2008 5:29 pm
Nye checked his watch idly as Ivie left, sort of dreading the bad timing. At least he had a way to contact her now, otherwise he'd have to fake injured to find her.
And, let's be honest, that'd be a bit stalker-esque.
"Before I tell you, I'm curious to know what you think is up," Nye said with a curious raise of the brow. He forced his glasses back up on the bridge of his nose and slid the card towards himself as soon as Melissa was done writing on it. He put it safely in his glasses case so he wouldn't forget about it, and then shoved the whole ensemble back into the safety of his pocket where a few doggie treats have also found their niche.
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Posted: Wed Sep 03, 2008 11:48 pm
Waiting until she was sure Ivie had vanished into the clutches of the staffroom, Melissa just smirked at Nye's question as she took a theatrical bite of cake. She took her time eating it, presuming it would annoy this Nye to some extent to wait, before swallowing and leaning on one hand, looking up at Nye with honey-brown eyes.
"Why Mr Hemingway, I do believe you might be 'putting the moves' on a dear friend of mine." Apparently Melissa wasn't the type to beat around the bush when it came to aquiring information. "And naturally, if this is the case, I want to make bloody well sure you're not going to love her and leave her. That's the last thing she needs."
From flirty to protective friend.
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Posted: Thu Sep 04, 2008 2:11 pm
Nye had checked his watch once more while Melissa chewed her cake, quite interested in hearing what she had to say. His arms found a place to fold themselves on the desk as he leaned forward casually, wearing a pleasant smile on top of that fashionable peacoat at all times. "I'm afraid you're quite wrong. Ivie has told me rather plainly that she's not looking to date, and I fully respect that." That was true, leaving out the fact that Nye thought he was an exception to almost everything subconsciously. Yet, he refused to admit that to himself, let alone Melissa.
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Posted: Thu Sep 04, 2008 4:33 pm
Oh, he gave the Mills and Boon-esque 'Nice Guy' responce! No, Melissa didn't think in terms of Mills and Boon, not at all. What gave you that idea? She took another quick bite of cake before mimicking Nye, leaning forward.
"Now Nye, if there's one thing I know about guys, it's that they don't just invite girls they've just met out to festivals - or out anywhere, really - if they're not at least interested in them. Nor do they carry around photographs of said festival just waiting to hand them over."
The blonde leant back, one leg crossing over the other. "So, Nye Hemingway, you're either lying to me or haven't decided for yourself what you want to do with our favourite red-head."
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Posted: Thu Sep 04, 2008 4:51 pm
Ivie didn't give this girl enough credit. For someone who could read other people so well, Nye was surprised that she managed to pick such a seemingly (read: allegedly) 'terrible' boyfriend. Then again, Nye knew from experience that bad people weren't that hard to find.
After a slight stare-down, Nye pushed off the desk and rewound his scarf around his neck. He didn't happen to feel incredibly obliged to answer anything. "Maybe I haven't, but anything I would like to do with her has to go through her approval first, don't you think? I understand my behavior is a bit questionable, but I've never planned anything in my life, and it's served me well so far."
Nye turned neatly on his heel and gave Melissa one of those half-hearted waves without even turning around to face her, and left the hospital after that to go catch the bus back to the salon. His phone had vibrated at least three times while he was with Ivie and Melissa.
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Posted: Thu Sep 04, 2008 5:16 pm
"Good luck, Mr Hemmingway~" Melissa called out after the disgruntled hairdresser, before reaching over and picking up the pile of papers she'd been ignoring dilligently for the past half an hour. That boy was hooked, line and sinker. Now she just had to keep an eye on him to make sure he didn't screw her Ivie over.
It wasn't even dark when Ivie got home that night, much to her delight. The keys slid into the lock without fumbling and she didn't feel the need to check every room in her apartment (read: All three of them) before she could relax. And relax she did, flopping down on her love-seat and putting her feet up on the armrest. Green eyes flopped shut as she sighed, enjoying the feeling of just being able to do nothing. Nothing at all. No schoolwork, work over. She could watch TV!
Leaning over, almost rolling off the sofa in her efforts, she snagged the remote and flipped the box on. Too early for anything interesting, really, so she hit the DVD player button. Soft music wafted out of the speakers - she couldn't remember who; Enya, Dido? - and she just let herself flop.
Until she got curious. Reaching down into her bag, the red-head tugged the photos Nye had given her out, flipping through the three with a smile. That last one really was a horrible shot of her. Still, she should date them and put them somewhere for safe keeping. It was at that point that she noticed the scrawl on the back of the photographs already.
She had to chuckle. Honestly.
Her mobile was fished out and Nye's mobile number registered in the phonebook before she prodded out a text message.
"Couldn't have just slipped me your number the normal way, could you?" She sent it off into the air, snuggling back down into the sofa. Maybe she should clean...
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Posted: Thu Sep 04, 2008 5:52 pm
By the time Nye even got home, he was in a terrible, terrible mood. He plonked down on the couch and put his hand over his forehead, not even caring to recall the day's events or get dinner. Even Jean-Pierre had taken care not to make him do extra customers at the risk of getting glared down to bite-sized pieces.
Lizzie scrambled up on the couch (where Nye had let her, unlike most owners) and plopped herself down on his chest. Nye had grinned slightly and scratched her behind the ears until she started nipping on his fingers and rolled over on her back to cue him to scratch her stomach. Busy playing with his dog, Nye barely noticed his phone go off until Lizzie suddenly stopped panting and froze, trying to find the source of the noise.
Nye reached into his pants pocket and opened his phone, an unfamiliar number glaring at him from the screen. Curious, he opened the text.
Normal means? What was normal?
"Normality is for the weak, Miss Callaghan," he replied, and then registered her in his phone book.
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Posted: Thu Sep 04, 2008 6:05 pm
Ivie had been starting to doze when Jingle Bells started blaring from her phone. Groaning a little, she rolled over and groped around for the vibrating device, flipping it open. Oh. That was a fast reply.
"Typical you. Well, have a good night."
She didn't really have anything else to say.
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Posted: Thu Sep 04, 2008 6:08 pm
Lizzie had just gotten Nye to scratch her tummy again when the phone began leaking out what sounded like the entire salon telling him to pick up the phone. With one hand still moving back and forth on Lizzie's furry tummy, Nye picked up his phone with the other. A fast reply on her part, too.
"Will it also be typical of me to ask you to accompany me on a spontaneous trip to the new art museum downtown, and then perhaps a picnic at the dog park?"
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Posted: Thu Sep 04, 2008 10:43 pm
By the time Nye's reply came through Ivie had thought that 'Good night' had ended the conversation, and had left the mobile on the table so she could to and change. She had a t-shirt on and her dress down to her waist when Jingle Bells rang cleanly through the apartment again and took a few moments to shrug on some sweatpants before scurrying back to the living room. Her eyebrow quirked at the message. Five-thirty already, wasn't it a little too late?
"Wouldn't it be closed by now? It's getting late..." She hoped that didn't sound like she was unwilling to go with him. I mean, if he'd asked for tomorrow it would have been fine but right now? A glance outside told her that the sun was indeed setting. It would be dark soon, and Ivie didn't usually go out after dark unless she was working.
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Posted: Fri Sep 05, 2008 6:22 am
 Mayor De'silvar had been suffering from a bout of gout over New Years and the De'Silvar's annual New Years party had to be postponed. A week of phone-calls and apologies later, the night had finally arrived.
A layer of snow had fallen that day in preparation for the event. The gardens were awash with frozen water, loop upon loop of white fairie-lights in the manicured bushes creating blurry reflections, making the lawns glow. The De'Silvar manor was a creation of white and wood, lit up to combat the chilly winter's night. The curtains were open, the fires were lit and only the black-suited guards at the glossy double-doors indicated that the house was not open to all.
If not, the gowns and tailoring of the guests would have. Expencive cars sat lined around the semi-circle driveway, loitering until their masters returned. The engines would be long-cold before anyone would leave the manor: the food and liquor would flow until midnight at least, why leave before you were evicted?
The party officially began at six-thirty. Fashionable late-ness was set-aside for this event, if you had the honour of being invited. Missing a minute would be a sin. You'd miss something, something that would be talked about for months to come, and would be tragically out of the loop at later events.
The opulant butterflies floating around the appitizer-weilding servants, flitting through delicate dances of social net-working. Yet there was one girl, at least one, who was oblivious.
Tracita De'Silvar, twenty-two years old. She sat on the second floor watching the flurry of colour below while her father lounged on a setee nearby, her mother issuing orders to the butler that would be carried out for the rest of the night. Walter took notes silently before bustling away, leaving Mrs April De'Silvar draped on the setee next to her husband, her boa setting comfortably on pump arms.
"It should all go to plan, love. Everything should run smoothly. Walter's a darling, you were so good to keep him on!"
Walter was a servant April's own mother had hired before her daughter was born. Walter had doted on April as a child, and the woman would keep him on until he retired, and perhaps after. Her huband, Ciro De'Silvar, simply chuckled fondly and pet his wife's hair.
"I know a good man when I see one, my dear. Besides, how could I deny you anything?"
For an old couple, they certainly were affectionate. Tracita's arms were looped over each other on the balcony railing, watching the crowd. Her older sister, Isabella, was down below socialising as was her nature. Her adopted brother, Chase, meandered around the balcony, occasionally stopped to talk briefly with Ciro before continuing his pacing. He was a cheerful boy, the same age as Isabella, yet his constant fidgeting with his tie made it obvious that he wasn't comfortable in his three-piece suit. The tie would be gone in an hour.
More guests arrived.
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-CAL- 89 percent vanity Vice Captain
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Posted: Fri Sep 05, 2008 6:53 am
 Rage was the one man who had decided his own schedule was more important than some cookie-cutter party, and reasonably so. In the more successful side of town, there wasn't one man of importance who didn't know the red-head's stand-alone moniker. There was no Jesse Black in the business, there was only Rage.
The party had been well underway by the man's arrival--some time after the clock had struck eight, and the guards had become slack and lazy, their own small celebration including a few glasses of champagne and raunchy stories about secretaries and, truth be told, Chase. The adopted son apparently had quite a way with the ladies, or so the rumors went, and--according to one tie-and-suit bodyguard--quite his way with the men, if you know what I mean.
But really, enough about NPC characters and onto more important things.
This slack of guard was just what Rage needed. His vehicle was neither too slow nor too fast, simply gliding past the main gates of the mansion with relative ease as the guards yelled after him to stop. He had no intention to.
Pulling up into the round, impressive driveway of the manor, his car cut off in a stall, and he stepped from the driver's side. Rage's stature was not large, not muscular, not amazingly beautiful, and not graceful. It was, however, very intimidating.
Eyes glanced towards him; guests hanging around in the open foyer, servants carrying food or running errands, and many a few patrons getting things, or placing things, into their own vehicles. All eyes were on the tall, suave man in the crystal-white suit, and that was just the way he liked it.
The hard soles of Rage's shoes clacked with each step up towards the De'silvar manor, his presence already spreading by word of mouth. He kept a single hand in his coat pocket, looking back apathetically at his red Ferrari at the bottom of the mansion stairs, clicking the keychain in his hand so that the lights flashed on once, the doors locking. It was going to stay there. Period.
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Posted: Fri Sep 05, 2008 7:16 am
By eight Tracita's eyes had slid to half-mast. She wasn't tired - come on, she was a Uni student, she'd stayed up later than this - yet after the initial arrival hour things became rather dull until the more substantial food was placed out at eight-thirty, followed by the dancing an hour later. Until then, boredom. Tracita wasn't the type to socialise; she never had been and likely never would be, and it was a generally accepted fact that you might get a smile and a nod out of the girl, but that was it. A dance? Perhaps. If she knew you. If her father let you.
And if her father let you you'd have both elder siblings watching you like a hawk. There was no lack of love between the De'Silvar household.
April knew what she was doing. Walter didn't need to tell the servants what to do unless there was an emergancy. He had more important things to do, such as look out for unnannounced guests. Like Rage. The aging man raised a bushy eyebrow at the red-head's appearance, shuffling through the remarkably agreeable crowd, and approached the well-known bussinessman after giving a subtle signal up to the balcony. He gave Rage a respectful bow.
"Mr Rage." He said, his voice pleasantly smooth for his age. "We did not expect you this evening. Would you like to see Master De'Silvar now or would you prefer to refresh yourself and enjoy the entertainment?"
Above them, Tracita's head had raised from its resting position, seemingly awoken by Walter's signals. Someone important had arrived, someone Daddy should know about. Tracita did not recognise Rage's trademark red-locks, so it was with slight bemusement that she reported to her father, who was, at that time, being hand-fed grapes by her mother. Tracita had to stifle a smile.
"Daddy," Had Ciro not been tuned to his daughter's voice, he would have missed it. "Walter says there's someone here to see you."
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Posted: Fri Sep 05, 2008 9:02 pm
Nye flipped open his phone skillfully once it had rang again, passing the time between texts by letting Lizzie play-chew his finger. If sarcasm would comply to be palpable through a bunch of texts, Nye would have replied with something like, "Yes, now. I mean, right now. I'm parked outside waiting."
But that'd just make him sound like a crazy stalker, which Nye Hemmingway was just too suave to be. Simple as pie.
Instead, he worked his thumb skillfully about the keypad to type a more... coherent response. "Ah, sorry, that detail seemed to escape me. Of course tomorrow. When would you be comfortable meeting me at the coffeeshop on West? I'll treat you to cheesecake if you comply to accompany me."
O-ho! Just below the character limit, and he managed to type just as he normally spoke. Nye hit send and flipped his phone closed once Lizzie began thinking it was some sort of chew toy. "I'mma get chu, puppy!"
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