Celebration Time

[Hood]

"Didn't realize the world cared about scientists anymore. At least not enough for you to be rubbing elbows with the likes of these folks."
The commentary was mostly meant in regards to how bloody ridiculous people were about what was important in the world. Musicians and their ilk were find and dandy (and they certainly tended to be dandies), but the average sheeple cared more about pretty entertainers and far less about the folks that were actually doing something useful.

Not that he particularly cared about scientists either. At least, not until they come up with some new breakthrough that made his life either easier, or more likely, harder.

He didn't bother glancing at her though, instead just continuing to study the crowd in the same bored fashion he had adopted, interrupting it briefly to sip his whisky. "No ring. So unless you're planning on banging those strippers in one last act of being single, I'm doubting the bachelorette party. Plus, your mother hen probably wouldn't let you talk to someone like me."


"So what'd you discover that led you to somewhere like this then? Some new skin cream? Voice synthesizer? Half these people can't sing without an expensive computer system."
He wasn't intending to be mean, per say. Just sarcastic. His tone wasn't biting, nor was it as entirely disinterested as his posture have might seemed from afar.

[Danika]

"I thought I was rubbing elbows on account of my big smile and killer legs."
Danika bit the tip of her tongue between her teeth, teasing. He was right, nobody cared about scientists anymore. Not unless they were making tons of money. That was why it was such a big deal for a basic scientist like her to be given such a prestigious position in the university. Those spots were few and far between these days.

She was leering at the dancers, longing to move and join in. She'd never been a clubber. Not even in Munich where the scene was hopping. But those cocktails muddied her mind, dulled inhibitions. She was about to ask the guy, what was his name? To dance when he asked about her work.

She ooh'd and shook her head, where to even start??? Ask a scientist about their work and they'll be your best friend forever. "I'm an astrophysicist, actually. I study dark matter, well, really I study gravitational waves emitted by dark energy, which is related to dark matter....."
Thus she spent the next twenty minutes outlining every facet of her research involved in the Ilustri project, culminating in the publication outlining the two new mathematical constants she derived. She even told him someday she hoped the equation would be named after her. Zayed's equation. It sounded awesome. Screw Nobel prizes.

Finally, she couldn't take it any more. She grabbed his sleeve and tugged. "Let's dance! Come on! I won't be this dressed up again ever. Gotta make these shoes worth how much they cost!"
She bounced on her toes and all but dragged him away from the wall, and whiskey, blood warm with disinhibition.


((Hood moded with permission))

[Hood]

The woman was certainly animated about her trade. He'd known techs in the past that had been the same way, although he was educated enough to have at least understood, in theory at least, what they had been rambling on about. The importance of line of sight for telecommunications, or the affect of weather, atmospheric bounce, so on. What she rambled on about was certainly beyond him.

Oh he understood the words, or most of them anyway, but the grand concept was lost on him. But he let her ramble on, paying her no more or less attention then he had been before she had started speaking. The occasional glance, slight nod, sips of whisky.

And then she switched gears without loosing any of her giddy naivety.

When she tugged his sleeve, there was little wiggle-room in the fabric beneath. Some men wore sleeves with a bit of padding, meant to make the arms hidden beneath seem larger, more powerful, which was not something he needed. At her first tug his arm didn't move. He simply finished his whiskey, and gave the room another bored sweep.

He finally spotted what had drawn Methos' attention; a woman, striking in appearance, certainly. Enough so to draw the attention, even fleetingly, of a man White was pretty certain had a husband. Almost certainly too far on the crazy side of the Crazy/Hot scale.

Miss Talanov continued to be a small center of attention for those who knew whom she was, which amounted to only a handful of people in attendance.

With nothing else of note about the room, he conceded to the tiny scientist and allowed her to drag him towards the dance floor. The girl was clearly drunk, and eager to enjoy herself. So he would cooperate, at least for the moment.

He let her lead him towards what passed as the dance floor, even allowing a moment to appreciate the way her dress hugged her curves. Attributing herself to having 'killer legs' was not a groundless bluff.

Tall, in a tailored black suit, all shades and no colours. In that respect, it matched his name. Mr Talanov's tailor was a skilled man. Italian, naturally, and old, as always seemed the case of good suit tailors, and the man could work wonders with the bloody expensive fabrics. Subtle, cut to hint at the build beneath without seeming too tight.

In comparison, she stood out all the more in the room. To have dragged someone like White to the dance floor, the confidence and allure that would have hinted at to the other women, would likely draw her a few jealous glares, all the better for a woman's self esteem. And the shade of blue, with its hint of shine, stood out against the black of his own clothes.

Some men might have taken the opportunity to taunt anyone whom they had seen eyeing the woman they were with. For instance, the weaselly fellow at the bar that had been eyeing Danika earlier. But for someone like White, there was no need for so pathetic a display. The man had already been dismissed, and so White did not arrogantly seek to catch the man's gaze and flaunt his prize. Nor, of course, was Dane or any other person in the room summarily ignored, either.

The music was certainly not his style, but he was a quick learner and had spent far too much time crowd watching at such events. Buttons of his jacket were flicked open, letting it hang loose so as not to inhibit his movement, and the way it hung hinted at the shoulder harness he wore beneath.

She was celebrating a grand success, in a place where people like herself usually didn't stand out. Lovely, certainly, but without the confidence and presence needed to really flaunt it. So he would make sure she did stand out, and made a few socialites jealous in the process.

[Danika]

Maaaaaybe it was the cocktails. Or maaaaaaybe it was the guy. But Danika had never had fun dancing before. Never. She was always self conscious and awkward. In a sea of people and she still felt like everyone watched her. But with this guy, "HEY! WHAT'S YOUR NAME? I'M DANIKA."
She had to yell now that they were in the center of the acoustics. With this guy, she forgot about looking stupid and just followed his lead. She swayed to the brush of his fingers. She relished thick arms encircling her. She was sweating buckets but it gave her chills.

At one point she bumped backward into someone and turned, apology on her bright red lips, but the girl looked at her, then at her dance partner, rolled her eyes, clicked her tongue and turned away, flipping her off as she did. "Rude!"
Danika yelled in her general direction only to be ignored. Caring was washed away with her inhibitions though, and she turned back, having a great time, and probably wouldn't leave until she either passed out or got a foot cramp.

She did glance at the bar once, though, wondering if it would break the spell to go fetch a glass of water. But fearing he'd not be there when she got back, she decided to tough it out and keep on dancing. She did notice some dark-haired, quietly handsome guy looking at her. Or maybe he looked at her partner. She wasn't sure.

Edited by Danika, Oct 10 2016, 07:50 PM.

[Hood]

The girl was quick to loose herself in the moment, another sure sign of how inexperienced in such things she was. Inhibitions burned away to the music and his touch, and while he would clearly not cross any lines, considering he was on the clock and she was drunk, no one else needed to know that. Besides, if someone were to make a move on his contract holder, they would likely try it when he was distracted. Which, of course, he was not. Not entirely.

He waited until she was distracted between the girl she had bumped, and her search for the bar; likely needing another bottle of water, considering how much energy she was putting into the activity, and in that moment leaned in close to speak into her ear, much more easily heard then her attempts to yell over the music. "White."


The song ended; or more accurately transitioned to a second and a third, subtle changes in the beat and tempo and little else to mark the end of one track and the beginning of the next. As her confidence grew, so too did the boldness of his own wandering hands, less so to goad her on and more to simply encourage her movements. The dress hugged her curves tightly, and left just enough to the imagination to be captivating, especially the way the exotic light show played off the shine of the fabric.

He read the crowd as the time passed, watching for Miss Talanov and her surroundings, studying that nothing had caught the attention of the other handful of body guards, as useless as they were, and of course amusing himself with the angry glances Danika drew from other party goers, jealous over her apparent catch of the evening.

[Danika]

"What? White?!"
That's a weird name. The poor kid, growing up named White. What kind of mother would name their bouncing baby boy after a color? At least make it an exotic color, like Magenta? Yes, this is my daughter, Magenta. We call her Maggie for short? Where did White come from? Ivory maybe? Snow? Cloud?

She quickly forgot the weirdness. He could be named Tan and she wouldn't care. She let him lead, push and nudge. She twirled and kicked. Even stepped on his nice shoes more than a few times, always with an eek of a frown and apologetic shrug. She even almost fell over once and had to be caught. It was so damsel-in-distress, she contemplated tripping on purpose, but decided she wasn't that coordinated.

Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. "I have to get water!"
And she broke away reluctantly and fanned her neck with her hand as she made her way back to the bar. Back to waving down a bartender for another glass of water. This time, he immediately served her, and Danika grinned broadly, pointing proudly at the glass for White to see. Like yay, look at me, I got water all by myself!

Panting, she downed it greedily and had to courage to request more.

[Sören]

By now there was scant doubt that Dane truly cared little for his brother's demise. Sören watched as the man craned his neck to stare after a woman's retreat from the bar, and wondered why he had agreed to meet at all. Swirling the dregs of his glass, Sören swallowed and replaced it empty on the bar, content to leave the man to his night, when the first sparks of interest lit in Dane's eyes.

"I was there,"
he confirmed. Hunger edged Dane's questioning, and Sören felt like spitting on this mockery of brotherhood. Death was something sacred, and a good death should be glorified. But Dane's eagerness felt like rot on the memory.

He shifted, thinking. And considered not offering an answer at all. But in the end his lips quirked into a sharp smile, and his voice took on the cadence of stories told by fire side. "We were in India chasing an enigma. A lake of skeletons buried beneath ice and mystery - one we finally unravelled, with perilous consequences --"
a brief hand gesture included his clouded eye among them. "You would not believe the story should I tell it. Your brother made his mark on this world, and died for the honour."


He said nothing of the poison. Of the slack fear in Declan's face as he fell lifeless. That the scholarly curiosity Dane so detested had been the cut to snap his thread from this life.

[Dane Gregory]

Dane sniffed at Soren's answer. Mark of honor? He turned to Soren, gaze leveling on the milky eye and flicking back and forth between it and the clear one."A man that disowns his own brother has no honor. Mark of honor is the spot that holds his corpse."
Disgusted by the tale, and lack of actual imagery, he waved Soren off. "The man you knew was a facade."


The victimized younger brother, Dane rubbed the stem of his wine glass, peering off into the faceless sea of bodies before them. The tops of their heads were drenched in light emanating from the show. Course, to his eyes, he saw more than the shadow of colors, he viewed threads and weaves. The sound of the music thumped painfully in his ear.

Then a face broke through. The girl returned to seek water, this time her skin shone in a sheen of sweat. Dane leaned on one elbow against the bar, scooting to let her in. His voice sweet as honey greeted her. The disdain of the previous conversation forgotten. "Work up a thirst with your man-friend? I am jealous of him. May I have the next dance?"
He smiled softly to put her at ease.

[Methos]

The shady figure slipped from person to person, Methos losing the shadow among the throng of people on the dance floor. Methos pushed himself upright and mingled with those people who had blocked his view. They danced and some covered their mouths in excitement when he joined their little party. A quick smile. A kiss on the cheek. Then he'd move on placating their excitement. Posing for pictures when asked. But his eyes searched the crowd for the shadowed figure who'd caught his attention.

He caught the graceful movements by one particular starlet. The shadowy figure slide up next to the man talking with the starlet and Methos couldn't see the face within. Nothing was out of the ordinary except for the hooded figure draping herself across the man.

People continued to stop him and he'd lose sight of his ultimate target, and when he raised his gaze again to find them, they were gone. Methos scanned the room for their retreat...


Edited by Methos, Oct 12 2016, 08:27 AM.

[Danika]

Danika smiled at the voice from her side. The accent was obvious, and quite frankly, she found it sexy. Her gaze was dulled with fatigue and thirst, her head light from dancing. She plopped on the seat next to him, nursing the cup of water like she was dying from dehydration.

"I don't know, my feet are aching and I am exhausted."
Her smile was crooked when she looked at the man next to him with the injured eye. It was unsettling. She looked back to the first man. He was sophisticated and handsome in all the ways opposite from White as one could be. She had to wonder what dancing with him would be like. She imagined being a lady in a ballroom on his arm, and for a moment, her blue feathery dress was instead a wide gown and he a gentleman in a brocade jacket and shiny boots. Damn sexy accents! Only one worse would be an Australian! There was a researcher that worked in another lab when she was in Munich from Australia. He had been young for the field, blonde and lean. His field wasn't in her repertoire but she always attended his seminars anyway just to listen to him talk. It was dreamy.

"I think I have one more dance in me, after all."


She smiled and let him lead her back to the floor, already forgetting about White. Snooze, yah lose, White!