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Post by Jacaranda Mulciber on May 26, 2009 20:34:14 GMT 1
She should have guessed any man lurking in a place like Scores was going to be an obnoxious lecher. She cleverly decided to keep her wand prepped at all times, and in crossing her arms, she made it very clear that the wand was being pointed in his direction. One tapered brow rose, and she pursed her lips. “This is an employee’s only area, so no Sir, I do not. You will also note your only use was to carry a cumbersome pile of paper that I had not wished to see strewn all over the club. I would ordinarily ask you to leave at this point, but as it stands, I have finished working and I intended to go and enjoy a drink with that idiotic man who is undoubtedly still hanging around that booth.”
Jac snatched a purse-like bag from another drawer and tapped her foot. “You’re not welcome to come along, but I get the feeling you will ignore me so I’ll save myself the bother. But know this; if you continue to look at me like that, I will advise security to escort you out, and you will severely regret ever having disobeyed me.” The accountant uncrossed her arms and lifted the green vile, tapping the glass with an opposite fingernail. “This is a cease fire treaty. For one night only, Mister Grey is more useful to me when he’s not sulking.” She said the last more for her own benefit. Despite Abe’s frequent visits to Scores, he doubted either man knew each other so the name ‘Grey’ wouldn’t mean a thing to him.
She turned her cold glare to the man, warning him to keep his distance with a look. “From now on, you’ll keep your questions to yourself. My name is Jacaranda Mulciber, and I do not really care what your name is as I plan not to remember anything of tonight come morning.” She held a palm up before he could even jump on that one. “And no, any relations with you are not included in my plans.” From her leer it was obvious she did not think much of him, and her concern was justified. In the light of her office, he was even less desirable than in the gloom of the club. She’d be glad to get back to the gloom of it, actually, so she would not have to see those ugly tattoos creeping from under his shirt.
Slipping the corked vile into her clutch bag, she stood at the office door and gestured sharply for him to exit first. “And keep your voice down, there are people trying to work back here.” Silas was working back here, and the Yank could draw anyone’s attention with that horrible nasal drawl. Unwanted attention is exactly what she did not want from Silas tonight, and having the American alert her employer before she had even made it out of the starting gate would hamper her attempts to have a good night.
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Post by vincentdriscoll on Jun 2, 2009 12:53:25 GMT 1
Vinnie was entirely undeterred when the woman started ranting at him. True women in general were much better when they had their mouths shut, or were using them for something much more productive, but there was just something damn sexy about being told what to do by someone with a British accent. All she had to do now was bend him over the table and spank him, and this whole scenario would be complete. Unfortunately, the fact she had her wand pointed at him suggested she had a different kind of punishment in line. Probably best not to push his luck - for the moment, at least.
“Yes ma’am” He replied, utterly failing to sound sincere, especially with the smirk still on his face “No disobedience. Wouldn’t even dream of it.” He would. Things tended to play out much more desirably in Vinnie’s dreams. Still, this was the here and now, and he could save that fantasy for next time he needed some alone time with his hand; which, if he didn’t buck his idea up, would be sooner than he would like.
However, it didn‘t look like things were likely to turn in his favour any time soon, especially if whatever was in that green vial was something to do with Abe. “Ceasefire, huh?” He said, not entirely understanding what he’d just been told - apart from the bit about Abe sulking, that bit sounded promising. Maybe he was in with a chance after all “So you and Abraham don’t get on?” He had meant it to be a casual question, or at least to sound like one, but there was probably far too much anticipation in his voice.
Any hope that had been welling up, though, was quashed as soon as the woman - Jacaranda - started talking again. God, she was sure running hot and cold No more questions. Damn. That was going to make things difficult. Why couldn’t women just say what they mean instead of leading a guy on like this? Sure, sometimes the chase was fun, sometimes it was just plain frustrating. But perhaps once she got more along the lines of not remembering things he’d start having better luck. Hell, he’d carried papers for her, he was damned if he was going to leave empty handed.
Vinnie mimed zipping his lips shut as he stepped out into the corridor, trying to prevent his smirk from spreading into a grin. At least they were heading back out into the club - as promising of the prospect of getting Jacaranda alone had been, Vinnie had a definite sense that alcohol would help. The noise hit him like a blow to the head as soon as they stepped through the door from the private area, but Jac was off across the room, so he didn’t have time to stand there getting acclimatised. And she was heading towards the bar. She was already ordering by the time he’d caught up with her - was it him, or could this woman walk unnaturally fast?
“Make mine a firewhiskey” He called to the bartender, reaching into his pocket for something to pay with “I’ll get these” Vinnie wasn’t really in the habit of buying drinks for other people, but he hadn’t gambled since he’d arrived in the area, so was feeling considerably more affluent than usual. If it was going to help him get laid, he was willing to try anything.
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Post by Jacaranda Mulciber on Jun 3, 2009 11:58:20 GMT 1
Holy screwts, did the men not know when to shut his mouth? He didn’t seem to be the brightest firecracker in the box, but when he let on that he knew Abraham on first-name terms, it explained a lot. Jac’s pout turned sour, and she shooed him out of the office. With her usual glare set in place, she stepped out of the door after him, turned to lock the office and started down the corridor at a speedy pace.
If this was Abraham’s idea of a joke – playing nice, flowers, sending a friend to make peace efforts – he was sorely mistaken. She should have done more than smother him in glue. She did not take kindly to Abraham sending emissaries. The man was a joke any way, what did Abe really expect him to accomplish other than copping a peek down her top when he thought she wasn’t watching?
Her dark cloud descending, she shoved open the private access door, forgetting it might alert Silas, and let it swing shut behind her in the hopes it would break the Texan’s nose for her. She made her way across the club, artfully avoiding the jostling patrons and skimpy waitresses balancing trays of drinks. She made it to the rear bar and placed an order for a pitcher of beer with two glasses and one shot of some horrendously expensive whiskey. She was displeased to see the Texan had kept up, and that he even had the audacity to try and pay for her drinks.
“He can get his own drink,” she amended to the bartender, “Put these on my tab.” She spotted a feathery white bundle on one of the shelves. “And pass me the duck while you’re at it.” The nervous-looking bar tender rushed about and Jac had a tray for the pitcher, shot glass and duck in record time. Iris the eider duck seemed blissfully asleep despite the noise, and Jac hefted the tray and wove her way back through the tables to the stairs.
Despite his feeble efforts to impress her, Jac was still in such a desperate mood that she would endure his company for the evening – anything to avoid being alone in her office. She didn’t expect to have a fun evening, listening to Abe’s drivel about his Professoring but what she saw when she neared the table almost made her laugh aloud.
It seemed her flower-glue trick had worked a treat, and Abraham had managed to stick himself to the table. If she had been a charitable soul, she might have forgiven him for his inadequacies for providing such an amusing sight. With her lips twitching in a barely contained smile, Jac approached the table and put the tray onto the table. She slid into the booth, and shuffled around the U-shaped bench to sit near but not next to Abraham. Resting an elbow on the table, she cupped her chin in her hand in a mimicking fashion.
“Why Abraham, you seem positively glued to your seat – are the dancers really that riveting?” She very almost chuckled, but she held it in. The way her cheeks lifted was enough of an indication to someone like Abe that she was highly amused. Annoyingly, however, the other man had caught up. That ruined the mood a little, and her expression sobered.
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Abraham Grey
Adult (A) 
Hufflepuff Head of House
Arithmancy Professor
Posts: 152
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Post by Abraham Grey on Jun 6, 2009 16:29:51 GMT 1
Abe was beginning to learn just how quickly it became uncomfortable when you were forced to sit in one place. He pouted and shifted again, trying desperately to regain the feeling in his left leg without making it obvious to anybody who might be watching that he was, in fact, stuck to the table. Not to mention the hand he had stuck to his face. Still at least the view was good from up here, when Bunny did that twisty thing he could see right up her skirt.
Eventually he’d need some kind of plan about how he was going to get unstuck, with both hands out of action he had no chance of reaching his wand and even if he did, by some miracle, manage to get it out of his robe pocket, what was he going to do? Hold it in his mouth? No thanks, working at Hogwarts had taught him all about the horrors of slapdash spell work.
Abe was quite surprised to see Jacaranda return, with drinks no less. She was almost smiling too, which meant she probably hadn’t come back to murder him while he couldn’t run away. Her good mood almost made it worth getting stuck to the table, and she appeared to have lost Vinnie, the less time Abe had to spend around that oaf the better. ”Yes,” He said with a frown, his voice only a little whiny and pathetic. ”They are. It might also have something to do with the sticking charm somebody put on me!” Okay maybe a lot whiny and pathetic, but he was feeling rather sorry for himself.
To emphasize his point he flapped an elbow at her, the only gesture he could really make. Except for maybe waggle his eyebrows suggestively, which would probably just get him slapped again. His pout only increased as he spotted Vinnie approaching too. Damn! It was one thing for Jac to ridicule him, but quite another for a colleague to get in on the act too. Not to mention he would likely flirt with Jacaranda outrageously and he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. [/font] |
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Post by vincentdriscoll on Jun 18, 2009 13:31:13 GMT 1
Vinnie was a little taken aback when Jacaranda rebuffed his offer of paying for her drinks – usually, in his experience, women were falling over themselves to try and find someone else who was willing to pay. Still, he didn’t mind; all the more for him. “In that case, you can make it a double” He said with a grin, leaning on the bar whilst he waited for the man to – obviously – serve Jac first.
He was a little surprised when she asked for – and was given – a duck. Ducks, as far as he was aware, were not commonplace in strip clubs. Maybe it was some kind off fetish. A very odd fetish, but he’d hear of stranger. A guy he’d known in Louisiana had a thing for slugs.
He didn’t have time to comment on the possibility of such a fetish though, as the bartended had finished serving and Jacaranda was off across the room again. It didn’t take long for his drink to follow, then he set off after her. He could easily have wandered off, fond another skirt to chase – he could spy a dancer out of the corner of his vision who definitely looked like she’d put out – but he’d invested time and effort in attempting to seducing Jac, he wasn’t going to give up now.
By the time he caught up, she was sat back at the booth, a little to close to Abe for his liking. The man looked surprisingly bored for having a beautiful woman so close to him, head in hand, and slumped forwards in his seat. However, as he arrived, he heard the word “sticking charm”, and everything made for sense. Vinnie grinned, then laughed out loud as Abraham waved is elbow about, making him look somewhat like a disgruntled chicken.
“I see why you might need a peace offering” He said, slipping himself into the booth. “I never seen bondage done that way before” He grinned again, taking a swig of his drink and turning to look the way Abe was facing and eyeing up a trio of dancers “At least you got a good view, huh?”
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Post by Jacaranda Mulciber on Jun 18, 2009 23:09:32 GMT 1
If she had drunken anything yet, she would have laughed. As it was, Abe’s pout and feeble flailing elicited only another cheek-twitch and a slight crinkle to the corners of her eyes. “Thoroughly deserved, I think. You should have taken the warning.” She rolled her eyes, and was somewhat dismayed to see that the American had managed to follow. Jac huffed, irritated at his braying laughter. It seemed to her that Abraham was he’s alone to laugh at, what right did he have to mock his misfortunes?
Iris decided to wake up at that point and Jac took the pitcher of beer away before she could submerge her beak in it. She slid the single shot of expensive whiskey in front of Abe. It would be fairly amusing to see him try and drink it with both hands stuck down, but she wasn’t that drunk yet. She fished the vial of green something from her back and held it up between her and Abe. “Peace offering. I’ll unstick you if you stay here and don’t ask questions.” She raised a brow. “Deal?”
She shot a sideways glance at the other man. “And then you can explain why your have your trolls lumbering after me like engorged drunken barflies. I can’t believe you associate with this man.” Well, she could, but he seemed far too vulgar a person even for Abe to befriend. Bondage? What a crude man. She liked a man between her legs as much as the next woman, but she was far to dignified for that sort of thing – not that she was going to mention that.
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Post by Silas Rosier on Jun 19, 2009 18:07:10 GMT 1
Ergh. More boredom. Was it just him or was time actually steadily slowing down the closer it got to Christmas?
Silas was used to this kind of monotony, but it didn’t mean he enjoyed it. A few months ago it had been par the course until... well, until Dacian. From the moment they had met until the moment he had brought Dacian’s life (unlife?) to an end, Silas had never, ever thought that he would even slightly miss the vampire once he had blown him to smithereens. But now, in his absence, all there was just a never-ending stream of fucking paperwork with not much respite, and his thoughts had a nasty habit of drifting back to the vampire during particularly slow moments like this. Compared to his near death scrapes with Dacian, Ed didn’t even come close to providing a little excitement. It wasn’t that Silas resented having killed him, he just resented not being able to set his favourite toy on fire any more now that it had turned to ash.
Well, there was Jac. She had her uses, but still, it wasn’t like he hadn’t been getting any before she showed up.
Ergh, fuck it. Fuck concentrating. Fuck reminiscing about old enemies. Fuck work.
Silas pulled his glasses off and leaned back with his eyes shut to massage the bridge of his nose. If he kept this up any longer he was going to get eyestrain or something. Besides, he’d finished his bottle of vodka that afternoon, and now, five hours later, he knew that his dropping blood-alcohol content had something to do with the difficulty concentrating, headaches, irritability and fatigue he was currently feeling. Better get some more, in that case. With that, he pulled himself out of the chair and headed out into the hallway, narrowly missing Jacaranda and Vincent by scarcely a minute.
The music of the club always had the opposite effect on him than it did his accountant. The loud music and bold lighting from the stage served to keep him awake, seeing as overstimulating the senses was kind of the point. While the patrons kept their adrenaline pumping and brain overloaded, money flew more freely from their pockets and they walked out more convinced they’d had a good time. Silas was familiar enough with one of the songs that he began inadvertently humming the tune as he undertook the all too familiar route to the bar.
Now that he thought about it, he should probably have a quick meal fiendishly at some point. Silas had started to notice with increasing frequency that when he got peckish he tended to migrate right to the bottle instead of actual food, and he couldn’t even remember having had lunch today. When he’d visited his doctor last week to treat a stomach ulcer the man had grumbled something about the beginning stages of malnutrition, tried to blame both things on too much alcohol and prescribed him a bunch of supplements before warning him to cut back or else. What he fuck did he know? He was just a doctor. Silas didn’t have a fucking drinking problem.
“Ah, Mr Roiser. You’ve just missed Ms Mulciber if that’s who you’re after,” said the bartender, shaking Silas out of his thoughts. What? Oh right. He’d been asking where the hell Jac was so often now it was no wonder that was the first thing that came to the bartenders mind. She was setting up some really bizarre workstations lately and tracking her down might as well be a part of Silas’s new exercise regime. “She didn’t look too pleased neither. Had some gent following her that tried to solicit the dancers before. They went upstairs.”
Silas couldn’t help it. He cracked into a grin. Jac had a notoriously low tolerance for that sort of thing from most people and he found himself wondering if whoever it was had been hexed so badly he was crying for his mother yet. It wasn’t like he should be encouraging the practice though. The dancers were allowed to defend themselves from the customers because they were independent contractors. Jac, however, was an employee, so there was always the off chance some arsehole would try and sue the club for it.
“Thankyou. What else have you got for me?”
“Oh, right. Erm. We got some Gold 68-”
“Too low in anise,” Silas interrupted.
“-or Alandia FrancoSuisse.”
“FrancoSuisse? Fair enough, I can tolerate the French today. Just the bottle thanks.”
“Your liver will thank you, I’m sure,” grinned the bartender, fishing the absinthe bottle out from behind the bar.
Silas smiled, but felt his mood darken. He didn’t have a drinking problem.
“Have a good night.”
“You too.”
Bottle in hand Silas traversed his way back across the club towards one of the staircases leading up to where Jac had disappeared to. Anything was better than returning to work, and either he could go separate Jac from her new stalker or try something like starting a fire in the middle of the club to see how everyone responded. The way people lost their minds over nothing was a constant source of curiosity for him.
As he made his way up the stairs, Silas heard the trio’s voices before he saw them. Although, what he was hearing could be taken as rather bizarre. First came Abe’s familiar tone (Abe? What was Abe doing here?) with the words “-put a sticking charm on me!” followed by a Texan drawl he didn’t recognise remarking “I never seen bondage done that way before.” Jac’s agitated voice then cut in, her words not as clear.
Wait, what?
Alright, whatever conversation that was, it actually sounded interesting enough that he wanted in on it. Then hopefully he could extract Jac from everyone later. She didn’t need any more male attention than she got already and he didn’t need anyone to tell him that Abe and men that tried to sleep with strippers was bad company for her. Or maybe he was just being possessive. Who cared. Without stopping, Silas took the lid off the absinthe bottle and emerged onto the second floor.
He could see Abe’s head over one of the seats. By the looks of it he was leaning on the table and Jac was seated next to him, looking just as annoyed as she sounded and waving some sort of potion in his face. Sitting opposite them was a man about his height wearing something that looked nastily like muggle clothing. So he was American, a possible mudblood, and reported to be moving in on Jac. As far as first impressions went, this one could be going better.
Oh, and there was a duck on the table. He’d question it, but Silas suspected it would get him nowhere.
“Evening,” Silas called cheerily, walking over to stand behind Abe’s seat and drinking a mouthful of the absinthe. Well, it was probably evening. It certainly wasn’t daylight and Jac always went home before it technically became morning. “Abe, long time no see.” Had to be since... yeah, since Jac was drunk. Hopefully Abe wasn’t holding a grudge about that one. |
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Abraham Grey
Adult (A)
Hufflepuff Head of House
Arithmancy Professor
Posts: 152
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Post by Abraham Grey on Jun 20, 2009 13:58:54 GMT 1
”Really Driscoll,” Abe said, tone unimpressed and really rather fed up of people laughing at his expense. He didn’t mind when Jacaranda did it, or as close as she got which was really just a twitch of the lips that might have been a smile, but then her opinion of him couldn’t really get much lower. Besides everybody knew if you could make a woman laugh she was much more likely to sleep with you, so really being stuck to the table was sort of worth it. ”You strike me as a man whose seen a lot.”
He turned to Jac, still pouting. ”You should have taken the flowers.” Abe shot back, tugging against the glue sticking him firmly to the table in the vain hope he might be able to make a gesture that didn’t involve his eyebrows. ”They were expensive, had them flooed in from Paris you know.” It didn’t matter that they were turned to sludge, he still retained bragging rights. Spending money was another tactic that might just get her to give in and sleep with him.
”As opposed to me being stuck here and you using a silencing charm to keep me from asking questions?” He asked, pointing out the second of his rather limited options. For a moment he wondered what had happened that might make Jacaranda actually choose to spend time with him, then he realised it didn’t matter. He still got what he wanted, so he should just shut up and stop questioning it. Especially since questions were exactly what Jac didn’t want and she’d only just forgiven him for his last mistake. At least he thought he was forgiven.
”Deal.” Abe agreed readily, eyes on the potion that was his salvation. However, before she could apply it to his skin, Silas arrived, looking distinctly cheery, the smug git. And why not, it wasn’t like he hadn’t already been humiliated enough by being stuck to a table in front of a colleague with a crude sense of humour and the woman he wanted to sleep with. Might as well throw in the man he was fairly certain was sleeping with that woman. ”Yeah, Christmas season is always busy at Hogwarts.” A blatant lie what with most of the students being at home for the holiday. [/font] |
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Post by vincentdriscoll on Jun 26, 2009 13:57:03 GMT 1
It was safe to say Vinnie wasn’t quite sure what was going on. Jac and Abe clearly had some history he didn’t know about, but the fact she’d stuck him to a table with what Abraham claimed was an expensive bunch of flowers, then things were likely to swing in his favour. There was the unfortunate fact that she was planning to unstuck him, but he could ignore that. “I got a good spell for clearing up sticky messes, Abe, I’ll have to teach it to you some time” He said with a wink “Then next time you get in a jam you wont just have to admire the view” He turned in his seat again to where the group of dancers were sitting and let out a wolf whistle. Who needed classy when you had effective?
Both the responses Vinnie got to his comment about bondage made him grin. No, he couldn’t quite believe he associated with Abraham either. The man was such a damn square – he probably wouldn’t know what bondage was if it tied him up and spanked him. Jacaranda, on the other hand, he suspected might know a thing or two about it. No one was that brusque and official if they didn’t get a kick out of it.
“Yeah, I got a few stories” He said, leaning back in his seat “I once got caught by this lady cop when I was in Virginia, and boy did she know a good few uses for handcuffs. Too bad she took my wand, I coulda done with that sticky mess spell by the time we were done.” He grinned again, remembering. He wouldn’t have minded having another go with her, if only he could remember her name…
Vinnie eyes flicked up when another man arrived at the table. An attractive man, to boot. Suit; nice. He clearly knew Abe, and most likely, Jac, too. Now what did that do for his chances of getting laid? Vinnie could quite clearly imagine the evening dissolving into some kind of foursome between the lot of them – or maybe just a threesome, if Abraham was going to remain so frigid. Like Jac, Vinnie wasn’t indifferent to a man between his legs, though he was far more likely to mention it.
“Who’s your friend?” He asked casually, eyeing the man up and down. If he played his cards right, this could turn out to be an enjoyable evening. A really damn enjoyable evening.
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Post by Jacaranda Mulciber on Jul 3, 2009 15:12:21 GMT 1
It surprised Jac that the man Abe called Driscoll had seen anything at all with an attitude like that. She wasn’t conventional with her relationships, but there was a certain line that any dignified woman would never cross, and the Texan was far past it. Jac decided it was probably best to ignore most if not all of what the man would say if it was going to be more of the same. She turned back to Abraham, the disgusted crinkle over the bridge of her nose lessening. He might be insufferable, but at least he didn’t make her skin crawl.
“Abraham, dear, you’re giving me ideas.” She took a long draw from the tankard of beer she had just filled from the pitcher. She was directing the glass back to the table when a familiar deep voice came from over her shoulder. She visibly flinched, the base of the beer glass hitting the table more heavily than necessary. She didn’t need to look to know who it was, but she seemed unable to stop herself. He looked suave, as usual, and he’d found a bottle of absinth somewhere. She should mention to the bar staff that even the owner had to account for stock losses somehow. She should also speak to Silas, but that meant being in close proximity; something she was not keen on at the moment.
Her lips tightened, and she slipped the vial onto the table and picked up the beer with both hands, looking into the amber liquid as if trying to divinate from it. She wished the alcohol could tell her what to do; she’d appreciate some advice even from an inanimate object right now. Hopefully Silas would just be making a passing visit, and she stayed as quiet as possible in the vain hope that he wouldn’t notice her. She glanced up only when Driscoll asked about him, but let Abe answer, oblivious of the man’s overzealous attention and the reason for it. She had been hoping for a quiet evening to get horrendously drunk without Silas gate crashing. It was looking like that was going to be impossible now.
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