12719/Sometimes backtracking hurts

Sometimes backtracking hurts
Date of Scene:	08 September 2022
Location:	VIP Lounge - Hellfire Club
Synopsis:	And sometimes retracing those pathways can lead to some entertaining enjoyment.
Cast of Characters:	Rose Wilson, Blake Riviere, Thomas Blake

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Rose Wilson has posed:
Sometimes it hurts to retrace steps taken before. Sometimes it can lead to great times. Rose purses her lips as she pushes the button for hte VIP areas after waltzing into the Hellfire Club as if she hasn't a care in the world. Well, maybe one or two. Perhaps.

Exiting the elevator she gives the room as scan. A small, almost private smile tugging at her lips as she catalogs all the exits almost as an afterthought. Daddy trained her well, she trained herself better yet. A hand lifting to fingerwave to the few people present as she crosses towards one of hte few places in town that will serve her a 'proper' drink instead of something fizzy and sweeter than sin.

Blake Riviere has posed:
Blake was having a night amongst the club it seems rather than one for herself. Nightclubs and mischief were fun enough, getting up to some of her alternative activities...but the 'Draculina' wasn't against a little luxury and her position came with obligations. Still, after a moment she comes to the VIP space...just sort of stepping out of the dark like she was always there.

Wrapped in the classic black corset and underwear, a matching choker around her throat and unlike most in the inner circle, Blake's raven locks were down and hanging free. Moving towards the counter her eyes sweep over the new arrival and her painted lips pull to a light grin.

Interesting...

Thomas Blake has posed:
Thomas Blake has little doubt Blake knows e's joined her at the bar. Scent, heartbeat, charm detector. Whatever. The vampire impressed him with her senses multiple times. After she settles in e greets her in her native tongue. He speaks it slowly but barely mangles it. <<Hello, Blake, always good to see you. How are you this evening? You are looking lovely as always.>> She does rock that uniform. He thought the lingerie and underwear look was especially disempowering to women. He had little doubt his pig of a father made his mom do far worse. Blake proved him wrong. But, Blake was Blake. She could command a room dressed as a mime.

Rose Wilson has posed:
Rose Wilson's lips quirk a bit more as she catches the line being given. One frosty brow lifting slightly as the blue focuses on to the gent speaking and away from the deliciousness that was to be her drink choice. Then she glances to Blake, giving her corset and negligee a once over before nodding slightly as she really cannot disagree with his statements. Softly she offers << The language of love is a good start. But perhaps she is just looking for a good drink?>>

She inclines her head slightly to Blake before waving to the 'tender. "Could I please get a pint of the Red Elk?" A five pound note settling onto the counter after she asks.

Blake Riviere has posed:
Know she almost certainly did, a quirk of her lips as the comment comes from the thief, the woman turns her gaze towards the man at his attempt to her language, merciful enough to answer him in English. "I am well Thomas," she offers before Rose's addition brings a little soft 'ahh' of appreciation and a beckoning to the bartender. Either he knew her choice or she could hint well enough, but the vampiress does switch back to french for Rose's sake. Or maybe it was simply her own.

<<Ah, Ms. Wilson...A pleasure to see you. I've crossed paths with your father once, but I hear you have quite the reputation yourself.>>

Trust the Black Squire to have done her homework!

Thomas Blake has posed:
Thomas Blake quirks a brow. <<I am not trying to pick her up, as I am involved with someone. Just practicing my French with a friend. It seems to amuse the lady.>> Tom orders his drink, a caipirinha. "This is the only place in the city you can get a decent caipirinha outside of a Churrascaria. The closest good one is in Newark. Newark is Gotham on the easy level. I'm Thomas Blake." He offers Rose his hand. He's not sure if he's about to be affronted. Then again Blake is the person he knows here. Then again, Wilson? White hair? He still doesn't jump to a conclusion.

Rose Wilson has posed:
Rose Wilson switches back to English as she offers small inclination of her head, "So he's still kicking it, hmm?" A small one shoulder shrug answers that feeling as she mutters under her breath, "Can the fucker not just die already?". The sobering, her eye flicks down to the proffered hand coming in her direction. 'Neutral grounds' her brain kicks forward before her own hand rises to reach past the incoming hand to grasp the wrist instead. "Rose Wilson. Legacy member from the old man. And yes, something to do with booze laws. Though I thought the only law for that was to not spill it."

She offers a small grin to Blake and offers in french, << Sorry, family squables tend to last longer than the hurts that started them. He and I are not exactly on speaking terms.>> Then turns her atteniton back towards the bartender as she waits for her beer to show up. If anyone is counting, she is probably a few years shy of legality in ordering the beer. But this is the HellFire Club.

Blake Riviere has posed:
A shrug from the woman in the revealing attire, the comment earns a little wave. Her birth father was dead thanks to time, her 'father' of this new life? Well, she'd ended him herself along with her time as a bride. "I can sympathize," she offers lightly before looking back to Thomas and gesturing with the hand the recieves her wine glass. "It has been a while," she purrs lightly before looking back to Rose. "You are welcome here, and I hope I have not soured your mood too far...or that it is not beyond salvage."

Thomas Blake has posed:
Thomas Blake is really better with Swahili. He can get by in Nigeria. He returns the grasp on Rose's wrist, using his full strength. Anything less would be patronizing. He may have beded a lot of women but he never got there with empty words or patronizing. The first name, The patch and the strength of her grip jogs the memory. "I had a long running feud with my old man. It was resolved eventually. My sympathies and... no one is proofing you here."

He nods to Blake, offering her a hand kiss. "I think between the two of us, we can salvage many bad moods."

Rose Wilson has posed:
Rose Wilson offers a soft chuckle, a sound at odds with her appearances. "No, my mood is not soured. Well, not over much. I have a full tummy, a good drink..." She glacnes after the barkeep again, "Forthcoming. And no-one has shot me yet today." She grins a bit visciously as she turns her gaze upon the pair of you. "I think many have had long running feuds with the old man. We're just a bit hard to get rid of once they start." Her brows drawing together in thought for a moment. "I think one guy in the mountains north of the Czech Repud compared me to jock itch." She shakes her head and sighs, "He'll need help scratching now."

Blake Riviere has posed:
"A poor comparison," Blake muses lightly before lifting her hand and reaching out, an -almost- touch against Rose's cheek to the point one might swear they could be felt. "After all, I'd have no desire to examine 'Jock itch' more closely, but perhaps -you- would like to find yourself a little time to share a drink tonight."

A little quirk of her painted lips and those eyes move to meet Rose's own. "If I could tempt you, of course."

Thomas Blake has posed:
Thomas Blake ponders his drink. There was a time, not long ago, a month or so, where he was necking with the apex vampire in her limo. He enjoyed the juxtaposition of beauty and lethality -much like a big cat. He'd have worked something out with rose and Blake given the moment. Now... he felt a little stunted at times. Instead he merely ventures, "There's no need to be vulgar. It doesn't prove anything and I hope he had a backscratcher handy -judging by your wrist lock. I hope I measure up enough to be good company?"

Rose Wilson has posed:
Rose Wilson tips her head into the air-caress with a smile. "Perhaps at another juncture? Unless you offer juices and cookies after?" She wets her lips with the tip of her tongue as the smile starts to return. Sounding almost hopeful of that. I fear I may have overbooked my dance card for the next few nights already. I came in to check things over again as 'work' or well, really it was play has held me away for too long."

Then glances over to Thomas and shakes her head slightly. "He did not require much scratching afterwards. It might have upset me a little when he tried to get more vulger with a .45 cal. He did not agree that I did not need a bellybutton piercing. We ended communications not long after." She rubs a hand lightly over her trim stomach. "I thought that earned me a month in Figi anyway."

Blake Riviere has posed:
Ahhhh, seems Rose knew a little more herself. After all, it wasn't like Blake was baring fangs and even her eyes looked normal enough at the moment. Still there's a little shift now, the lightest brush of her fingertips against Rose's neck, her shoulder, before she withdrew her hand. "Oh I'm sure I could accomodate something suitable, but I suppose even here it is a truth that business often comes before anything else...I am sure I will see you again soon enough."

Onto Thomas and his words, she gives a little shrug of her shoulders. "Oh I'm sure you're perfectly 'passable' Thomas," she offers, a little humored wink to her taunting.

Thomas Blake has posed:
Thomas Blake nods approvingly. "Any man who abuses a petite female... better know whether he can take her or not first!" He knocks back the rest of the drink and rubs shoulders with Blake in a knowing way. This applies to assassins, even those who travel in pairs. It did not help the last two against Blake.

"A piercing would look nice on you, Rose. Not .45 caliber though."

Rose Wilson has posed:
Rose Wilson offers that private smile as she tips her head list slightly away form the brush of a touch, exposing just faintly the pulse point to the finger. Then the touch is away and she also offers Thomas a wink. "From what I have heard from a few folks, you are more than passable. But I was hearing of BBQ dragon to be had elsewhere. And sadly there are some things a girl can just not pass up." She holds up a hand and starts counting off her fingers. "A nice little black dress of doom. A solid pair of bend me over here boots. A good sale at the gunsmiths. That damascus blade I saw in the market outside of Blangladesh. Any wolf-dog hybrid. A tasty kiss. And well... That's for someone to find out later." Her face lighting up as her beer finally shows up. Both hands wrapping around the pint glass as she pulls it closer to her. "My precious!"

Blake Riviere has posed:
Well, given that Rose may well have described a few pieces of Blake's own non-club wardrobe, but she doesn't quite bother to comment on that. Instead she gives a little soft nod of appreciation, bringing her drink to her lips with that smirk behind the rim of the glass that would have to suffice for now.

"Well, at the very least I would hope your night would be eventful and entertaining."

Rose Wilson has posed:
Rose Wilson watches the lifting of the glass with a small smile of her own. Her own lifting in a silent toast before she sips deeply of the contents. A look of purest bliss showing for a moment before she lowers the pint and sighs softly. "I have the distict feeling that you make for many a pleasant nights yourself." A brow arching up as she adds, "As well as more then eventful to boot." She settles back against the bar as she gives your 'uniform' another glance and grins. "Sometimes the most fun is in helping return the clothing afterwards."

Blake Riviere has posed:
"Well," Blake muses, sipping lightly at her own drink and then reaching out a hand towards Rose's own drink. A little lift of her brow questioningly. Was she actually requestion permission? Or perhaps she was just being polite in her curiousity. "Well, instincts are a wonderful thing...but it doesn't quite beat experience now, does it?"

Rose Wilson has posed:
Rose Wilson arches a brow in return as she offers her glass over. The beer, or lager, or whatever it would be considered in the states is a red-amber shade. The corners of her lips quirking slightly upwards as she nods slightly. "This is truth. Experience is a greater teacher than most would think."

Blake Riviere has posed:
There were plenty of her lesser cousins who were always 'dead', who were unable to indulge in food, drink and other things. Blake Riviere, oft call a 'Draculina' was no such being. She could even walk in sunlight and seemed to take quite a bit of smug joy in sunbathing when the weather allowed it. With that in mind, she could indeed take a small sip of her drink, tasting the beverage for herself before drawing back with a smile.

"It's so much better to know for oneself, as fun as imagination can be..."

Rose Wilson has posed:
Oh the joys of being a unique creature. Rose however is not quite unique in many aspects. But she is fully her own person. Her eyes studying the smooth flow of muslces in that swallow as the beverage is sampled. It might be too bad for many that they had to leave as just hte tension of the moment might cause spontanious nosebleeds for a certain clientel.

She leans in to lightly capture the glass back, trapping it for the moment between herself and Blake. "I should ask how long your duties last here as you are in uniform. But that may be seen as cheating by some." Murth and amusement showing in a sparkle of her eye as she draws slowly back, taking her drink with her.

She breaths softly in French, << Whoa would it be fore me to obstruct your duties by licking the droplet of mingled drinks form the corner of your lips. >>

Blake Riviere has posed:
"I think you'd be suprised," Blake offers before drawing her hand back to rest against her own bust, over her heart. "When you're talented at what you do? There's quite a lot of freedom to be found..." she purrs, the vampiress fingernail tracing lazily down her own neckline before she moves to tilt her head to the side.

<<Oh dear Rose, I'm sure my duties and position would remain well and intact..."

Rose Wilson has posed:
Rose Wilson chuckles again and inclines her head. "This is most assuradely true. Your position would be unaffected." She grins impishly as she settles the pint onto the bar and nibbles the edge of her lower lip in thought. A glance around the area and a what the hell shrug, she steps forward to first rest a hand stop the one tracing the neckline of your corset, then leans in to ever so lightly tease a light huff od air along the exposed throat as she exhauls a heartbeat proceeding the light flick of a tongue tip across your own pulse-point, then upwards to nuzzle playfully at an earlobe. A soft murmur of Rus as she draws back, << Tag. >>

Blake Riviere has posed:
Was it that suprising? Blake could literally be a hypnotic beauty if she wished, so while they might draw eyes from others, they almost certainly weren't likely to be judging...or at least willing to voice it. The vampiress' lips pull to a smile at the proximity, the tracing, all of it was very much something...else, something pleasent and something very much not moving towards her lips.

Still, the murmer and retreat would find the latter just -lightly- halted by the fingers claiming contact with her cheek, gently caressing a path downwards enough that she might -just- brush a fingernail against the edge of Rose's lip, her soft fingers might just draw down the other woman's jawline and down to the nape of her neck...a map that with just that motion and contact evoked images of her lips making the same trip.

And yet they draw close instead, close enough Rose could -swear- they had just brushed contact before the raven-haired Inner Circle member stepped back and placed her glass aside.

"I hope you finish your distractions soon Rose...then you might consider joining me later for a more private drink..."

With that she draws away, a smirk of those painted lips over her shoulder. Invitation and temptation alike.

Rose Wilson has posed:
Rose Wilson draws in a slow evening breath as she straightens slightly. A hand unerringly reaching for her pint, to lift it and drown half of it in a pair of swallows. Her eye never once leaving the raven-haired Inner Circle member as she draws away. She does her best to ignore the flush creeping upwards along her throat. Finally she pulls her gaze away and glacnes to the barkeep, "What? She's fucking hot. You know you wanted to."