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 Posted: Sun Dec 15, 2013 11:06 pm
The dress was green velvet, full-skirted and belted and heavy and already starting to chafe. The shoes were gold and glittery, with just enough heel to make her legs look shapely without being inappropriate. The hose were itchy and old-fashioned neutral. The earrings were diamonds, because nothing else would do. The careful, winding shape of her updo, all fancy curls and tumbling bangs, was already giving her a headache. Once again, Tess had almost no say in the outfit she was to wear to one of her parents' functions, and after ten-minutes of what are you studying and don't you look nice she had given up on the crowd inside. Instead, she pulled a shawl around her shoulders and crept out through the front doors where she stood drawing air into her lungs and breathing it out in smoky puffs.
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Posted: Sun Dec 15, 2013 11:14 pm
The engine noise manifesting at the end of the drive was... too loud. Not the rumbly, purring loud of an appropriately-pricey sports car, and certainly not the quiet, efficient hum of a late-model luxury vehicle. It was the throaty, rattling roar of a certified junker. This auditory impression was borne out by the car itself, when it pulled up in front of the clubhouse. Probably in a split second someone would be here to whisk away the occupants in a flurry of indignant reprimands, but as it turned out, the driver merely deposited a passenger. Sawyer was never one to turn down an opportunity to dress up. Sawyer actively sought reasons to dress up, and they so rarely obliged him that he sometimes went to work in a three piece suit just because he could. So he stood a strange contrast to the retreating tail lights (or tail light; one was busted): positively dapper, immaculately groomed, impeccably tailored, with just enough eccentricism in the form of a green velvet tie and bright red socks and not-quite-matching jacket and trousers to push him away from stuffy and well into young and stylish. It was the sort of thing that might have ended up on a street candids Tumblr somewhere, which was exactly what he'd been aiming for. If someone didn't stop him for a photo by the end of the night, his disappointment was going to be immense."Tess," he said cheerfully as soon as he spotted her. "Holy s**t--" he startled, and looked around with exaggerated caution, dropping his voice. "Uh, wow? Yeah let's go with wow. Wow, your hair is awesome."
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Posted: Wed Dec 18, 2013 11:40 am
Sawyer was, perhaps, offering a sincere compliment -- but Tess, hot in clothing she'd had nearly no say it, instead shot him a withering look, fingers going up to the tangle of her hair, which had so much hairspray in it that she was going to have to shampoo three or four times. It was nice, but it wasn't her. Even if it looked good. And her mom was kind of right. "Don't you start with me, man." Her eyes narrowed just a touch as she took him in, head cocked to the side. Surprised and maybe a bit disappointed. "You clean up well."
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Posted: Wed Dec 18, 2013 11:48 am
He looked a trifle miffed in return. "I don't clean up well," he insisted, wounded. "I am just well. All the time. Like every day. Goddammit," he added, for emphasis. A pause: "You do look nice though, so bite me. Can I smoke here? I bet I can't smoke here. Maybe there's like. A room with a bunch of old dudes in it smoking cigars. I could do a cigar. And like, brandy. In those giant fish bowls. That's a ******** of a lot of liquor," he said cheerfully, apparently having completely missed the concept of a brandy snifter. No worries, Tess, Sawyer might look nice but he was clearly the same old Sawyer.
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Posted: Thu Dec 19, 2013 8:48 pm
That made Tess blow out a slow breath and then, weirdly, relax -- her shoulders slumping under her shawl and one hand extended toward him. He could take it and she could pull him inside, where it was warm. Somewhere, in one of the rooms, was an old fashioned wood fireplace, and it made the whole club smell like woodsmoke. Like winter. "...there is definitely a lot of liquor going around, but getting some is harder; you have to order at the bar." They passed the announcement board, with Tuesday night bingo prominently on display, and she flicked a look back toward him. "I had a boyfriend once, and we'd steal it off tables when people weren't paying attention." And a step into the dining room -- the fireplace in one corner, buffet table at the far end, and people in black vests and red bowties circling with plates full of finger foods -- would make it clear how easy that was. Few people sat for very long, and abandoned drinks and food plates littered the tables.
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Posted: Fri Dec 20, 2013 5:40 pm
Which is why, when he faced Tess again, Sawyer was holding out what looked like a water glass but was filled with something that wasn't water, having had the foresight to decant the alcohol into something more innocent-looking. He beamed, proud of his achievement. "Merry Christmas," he said, imbuing it with a world of smugness. He sniffed the glass before handing it over. "No idea what it is, but it smells like something you can get drunk on. Don't get carried away," he added, "because I brought some stuff for later. Do you guys really play Bingo here? I thought that only happened in like movies and s**t. Can I play Bingo? Is there Christmas Bingo?"
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Posted: Sun Dec 22, 2013 9:24 pm
"Bingo is weekly, Tuesdays, with dinner." It came with a slow sigh -- something between relieved [alcohol made these things more bearable] and exasperated that he wanted to do the very things her mother always tried to talk her into. Almost absently, she smoothed her skirts down, adjusted her straps, and then reached out to take the drink from his hand. "Do you want a tour or something?" It was careful, doubtful. Hopeful he'd say 'no' but almost certain that he'd bubble over with excitement at the idea.
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Posted: Sun Dec 22, 2013 9:36 pm
Sawyer's disappointment at the lack of Bingo was palpable, but he put on a brave face, which brightened considerably--sorry, Tess--at the prospect of a tour. "Show me around," he chirped. "I wanna see the like. Swimming pools full of Cristal and crazy big libraries and s**t. Also your parents. I get to meet them, right? This is like my best ********' tie, OK. And I'd have worn it anyway but I want them to admire it."
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Posted: Mon Dec 23, 2013 5:54 pm
Tess thought about it for a moment, and then reached out to take his tie in hand, smoothing it slowly between her fingers. Maybe she was testing the true quality of it -- or maybe she was just entertaining the idea of leading Sawyer around by it. Sometimes it seemed like a leash was exactly what was needed with him -- "...sure. I don't know where they are, they're probably talking with someone really boring, but we can do the tour." She let go, slipping away with her drink in hand to show him around. There was, yes, a pool -- but no Cristal -- and, actually, a library, but only in the form of a bookshelf full of assorted philosophical books. Upstairs, maybe, there was more. Alas, the party didn't extend upstairs.
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Posted: Fri Jan 24, 2014 1:05 pm
"Where's the giant wine glasses and the guys with the cigars?" Sawyer asked at the end of it, sounding like he might cry. All his delusions were being brought down on his head. "There's at least, like, really offensively racially segregated wait staff, right?" He paused, and then in a more serious and hushed tone, added: "Actually I woulda hoped that'd be the only part that wasn't true. Let's go meet your parents," he added, bouncing on his heels like an excited puppy while clinging to her elbow. "They're going to ********' love me. They're gonna try and adopt me like Little ********' Orphan Annie. I can tell them tales of woe about the orphanage. Not that I was ever in one. But I can lie. And then they'll shower me in gifts and take me on trips around New York. And then after I meet them we can go ligh--" he had to lower his voice again. "--dip into my stash. You know."
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Posted: Mon Feb 10, 2014 9:26 pm
As everyone was, Tess was drawn easily into the wake of Sawyer's enthusiasm, slowly sliding her arm through his to keep him at least somewhat restrained. This way he couldn't run in doors, and could barely even bounce. It made him slightly more respectable. It also drove away the besuited trust fund boys with scotch in hand -- "...that sounds like it could be the best part of this week." She offered it quietly near his ear, eyes scanning the crowd for a moment. The wait staff was, in fact, somewhat horrifyingly offensive. Her father would have apologetic explanations for why that wasn't racist. Tess didn't even comment. "They're there." She pointed, absently, uncomfortably, to a very well-dressed and somewhat-bland couple in the back corner, talking to a [shockingly] white lady in one of the staff uniforms. "Are you sure you want to...?"
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