In the Bleak Midwinter

[Lady Nocturne]

Characters: Nocturne, open
Setting: Jump City Square
10:00 P.M. December 25
Previous Threads: Briefly references "A Star to Wish For", although it probably is not that relevant.
Plot Summary: Nocturne broods on her least favourite holiday while in her human form

[Lady Nocturne]

Christmas. Time of joy and festivity, gift-giving and good food. Good cheer was everywhere in Jump City. So was commercial glitz. People bustled about with smiles and season's greetings on their lips, while the stores parleyed the holiday spirit into cash. The airwaves and the internet were saturated with Christmas music, Christmas images, Christmas ads.

Nocturne couldn't say what she hated more, the profiteering or the "cheer". She was standing in the square, in human form, staring at the largest and most obnoxious public decoration in town, a gigantic Christmas tree complete with faux presents. There had been some sort of kerfuffle here last month, but everything was back in order now.

Victoria was dressed in a long black fur cloak (arguably also faux since it was created by her crystal) that reached to the ground. The attached hood was up and mostly hid her face, her long black hair draped forward over her right shoulder. It was cinched round her waist by a broad black silk belt. She looked like the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come, if the Ghost were a tall, shapely woman.

But it was more the Ghost of Christmas Past that haunted her tonight. She sipped gingerly at an insulated flask, covered in black leather and gold decoration. The hot spiced brandy burned over her tongue and down into her stomach. Her garments kept her body warm enough; it was her soul that was cold.

She had learned to hate Christmas early on, when it became apparent that all it meant was another round of expensive but unwanted presents from her distant parents. Probably the only happy Yules she'd had were those back in Miskatonic, where she'd chosen to stay rather than return to those parents, her spoiled sister, and their insufferable friends.

She saw things in a new light now, but it was if possible less pleasant. All these happy people got on the predator's nerves even more than when she had been a human. She wanted the nights filled with darkness and terror, not garish decorations.

What a waste. The longest nights of the year, ruined. The "festivities" wouldn't die down until after New Year's. Really, it would be a good time to hunt -- plenty of drunken revelers staggering around who probably wouldn't be missed for weeks. But Nocturne just didn't feel in the mood.

[Speedy]

A ginger high school senior ambled somewhat unsteadily in the gingerly-sipping, robed moper's direction, at times with a hiccup, at others, sliding gloved hands from his pockets to try and keep himself upright. Roy Harper fell into the category of staggering, drunken reveller whom Victoria was prey people-watching tonight.

Harper advanced--slightly hunched--through the whimsically decorated square with a vague smile on his face, and the scent lingered of something a little stronger than the spiced eggnog he'd been downing with his Kingston schoolmates just moments earlier.
He had chosen his target.

It was a holiday game of sorts the rougher crowd at the elite school had decided to play. Harper himself played the role of nonchalant bully rather well, to keep his alias' personality separate from his civilian life. The object was to basically gift someone their presence bother a random stranger for a solid 10 minutes with conversation, without being dismissed or worse, beaten to a pulp physically forced to stop and desist. People were generally pretty jolly this time of year, so it wasn’t really that difficult a challenge, but they could instantly become less-so if their conversational partner was not only a complete stranger, but perceived as grossly, uncouthly impaired.

A pumpkin-orange, leather-gloved finger tapped out the chorus to a popular yuletide Michael Bublé track on most definitely the gloomiest shoulder in the general vicinity, because this impaired stranger always rose to a challenge to the highest degree.

And his voice was now rising to the highest note it could…
…but Harper wasn’t called silver-tongued due to his singing voice by any stretch of the imagination...
“They call it the season of giving
I'm here, yours for the taking
They call it the season of giving I'm here I'm yours!”

…and any suave effect was lost considering the disposition and goals of the target of his off-key crooning, not to mention the irony lost on him that said target would very much like to acquire him for nefarious purposes.

Now, while Harper had a complicated history with substance abuse, he’d downed his ‘nog and the nervous-looking Blanchard boy’s to boot, knowing full well how much they’d spiked it, not because he was planning to hop into any new wagons to fall off for any delinquent pre-New Years resolutions.

In theory, inebriated civvies-clad babysitting was an awful idea.
But Roy was too far gone for edits.

Their exchange student from Bordeaux was certainly no stranger himself to drinking, but as Speedy, the babbling boy was supposed to be doing them both a favour; the wealthy vineyard heir had a presentation-party to attend with his parents in around 15 hours with some of Jump’s elite, including business dealings with very interested clients, one Mr. Queen amongst them.

All things considered, better Harper than his charge.

If he could get through tonight in one piece.

[Lady Nocturne]

She sensed him. Uneven footfalls approaching her. But she figured it was just another passerby. She shifted away from him without really acknowledging him, thinking he would stagger past her. She did not expect him to walk right up to her, tap her on the shoulder, and start singing some hideous drivel in off-key drunkenness.

She stiffened in shocked rage just long enough for him to get the three lines out. Then she spun around, lifting her right arm to ward off his touch, enough force in the movement to knock him down if he wasn't nimble about backing off.

"What! Impertinent wretch!" she snarled. She had her right hand lifted, as if she would follow up with a deliberate strike with the brandy flask. However, recalling where she was, she relaxed a little and lowered the impromptu weapon. She could hardly murder this boy out here in the open square surrounded by other humans.

Unless looks could kill. Nocturne glared from the depths of her furry cowl. Even though her features could not be seen, her anger could be felt, a deeper chill in the night air. She regarded him thus, a pathetic youth who could not hold his liquor or keep what little wits the gods had blessed him with. And yet... Her snarl twisted into a wry half-smile as she considered the words he had so tunelessly sung.

"Hnh. Be careful what you offer, little boy." Her voice bit with condescension, but there was a dark hint of a teasing humour. "You could be mine indeed -- I could drain you like a glass of wine, and leave you begging to give more."

She took another sip of her brandy to emphasise that. She rather liked the idea, actually. She had not given the Jewel anything yet this night, and she was starting to feel that she needed to give it a drink as well. However, she was not sure she could stand this boy's company long enough to get him somewhere alone. Also, despite typifying her current contempt for mankind, he might have friends and probably had parents who would notice if he disappeared (or had a change in personality).

[Speedy]

Did this count as out?

Being thrown aside like so much stray holiday coupon-pages of a super sale magazine in the chill-wind?
Or simply as an impertinent wretch.

“Retch, huh? Haven’t had quite enough to blow chunks yet, thanks,” he grinned cheerily at his own joke.
Harper was, decidedly, undaunted by the fact he now found his grey-jeaned seat perched in a patch of powder, now significantly shorter than his conversant, who towered above with a most displeased expression.
Which was about to worsen, as Roy wheedled her condescension into exactly what he wanted to hear and nothing more.

“Although, what I’m hearing is, 'come grab a drink with me’.”
Which he found out about only after checking her out, following the smooth curves up slowly—thus, impudently—until they reached her soured visage again.

“You must be really thirsty. It’s a good thing your tall glass of wine’s right here.”
An expression that was shifting into something more sinister than he could be bothered to worry about yet, one difficult to read both by the way she tended not to let it show fully in the merry glow all around them, but which smacked of playfulness.
Dry, but present.

“And despite all his boyish charm, the pretty lady may be assured that he passes for 21,” grinned the late teen, tugging down a cerulean wool scarf that had bunched up around his mouth in the fall.
Combined with a fake I.D., a little convenient seasonal coverage would help him get into any of the fine establishments open ‘til dawn around here. Harper hopped back up to full height from his haunches.

It wasn’t that Roy couldn’t have recovered more quickly. He was always playing a role, and had (and had to) let his defenses down as a civilian. It had been tough to take the fall without recovering immediately and doing a fancy flip in the air or whatnot to aright himself as he might in a fight, but the buzz had worn off from the world-spinning state before he’d approached the night-queen, thankfully.

“Someone’s gotta lift her spirits. After all, it’s Christmas~!” came more cheesy wordplay, in more sing-song, not thinking better of it besides refraining from touching her again.

Aside from now exclusively referring to Victoria and himself in the 3rd person, Harper took a casual glance over his shoulder.
A couple Kingston ruffians were watching closely for the challenge’s purposes. One snickered at Harper’s tumble, but the other recording on his phone had sobered up enough to be wary of the way the strangely gloomy woman’s arm had lingered with her flask in the air.
They were much too far away to pick up any audio; Harper getting served would be hilarious with or without audio, so it didn’t matter, but the recording student shivered at the sudden drop in temperature, and for some reason, was very grateful they were so far away from the mismatched pair over there.

[Lady Nocturne]

She was mildly surprised he could still manage wordplay like that in his state. Maybe he had more wits than she thought -- when he wasn't drunk, that is. But he could not be that drunk either, not with how easily he got back to his feet. Other than that, though, he seemed like a fairly young male out for some fun.

Albeit his first attempt at humour disgusted her. But when he brashly declared himself a glass of wine -- she laughed. It was a rather unsettling laugh, depending on your point of view: amused, but for dark reasons of her own, and still laced with her hatred for the season and contempt for this particular specimen of it.

She rather enjoyed his examination of her. It was a little coarse, but at least he could appreciate her on some level. But then he glanced over his shoulder, and she was somewhat piqued. Her eyes followed his, wanting to know what was more interesting than her. But then she saw the others, and the telephone, and she suddenly guessed that this was supposed to be some prank. That irritated her further, but it also amused her.

You dare to play games with me? Well, little boy, you'll be lucky if you live to regret it. She licked her lips. Laughing again, she put her left hand on her hip.

"'If I could work my will, every idiot who goes about with 'Merry Christmas' on his lips should be boiled with his own pudding and buried with a stake of holly through his heart.'" She quoted the original Scrooge with relish, teasing at the moment, but with a hint that maybe she really meant it. "Not that I would mind a little more to drink, but I am far out of your league."

She was definitely going to drain him. He had insulted her, by making her an object in his silly game, and he was going to pay for it. She just had to get him away from his compatriots, and then get him vulnerable to the Jewel's power. Luring him to a bar would do both nicely.

Lifting her hand, she pushed her hood back a little, letting the various lights reveal her face. Her lips, glossy black, curved with taunting danger, accenting the deadly sparkle in her deep blue eyes.

"Age doesn't make the man. Do you really think a boy like you --" she gestured at him "-- could keep up with a big woman like me?" She put her hand on her chest, slipping a finger through the folds of her robe to rub along the Jewel concealed beneath it.

[Speedy]

“Looks to me like you’re workin’ it just fine.”
The ‘it’ she was working was left up to Victoria’s imagination. The beginnings of a migraine reared right in the centre of his head. He'd need a top-up again too, soon.
As Harper tugged his toque a little lower over his cherry ears as he couldn’t pass up giving the mysterious lady the once over, bottom-top look, nice and slowly.

He didn’t hold back a little snerk at the garish picture she painted, breaking his unbecoming concentration.

“Tasty way to go, up ‘til them high stakes!”
The bad jokes were back and better than ever.

“I’ll take that as a roundabout, ‘you’re so cute I could eat you up’. But we'll talk snacks after the refreshments have been acquired, yeah?”
The Scrooge reference completely flew over his red head, not being that well-read past the occasional suggested reading list caper (or more often, comic book) while stretching during his daily jogging.

Normally, people who said things like this were either mental, or rather villainous, and one would think a veteran Titan would be warier. But as he’d said, it was Christmas; his guard wasn’t up but rather face-flat on the floor.

Perhaps he would match it if he and this woman got into any variation of a good ol’ drink-me-under-the-table.

Over yonder, Roy’s previously jeering classmate checked the time. It had been about 5 minutes since the odd pair’s banter had begun. He muttered something about having to up the next turn to 20 minutes; Harper was making it look too easy.

“We-heh-hell, by the same token, age doesn’t make the woman, does it? Let’s be young~. Cut the tired nitpicking, get out of here and just let loose~.” A grin accompanied his previously mischievous gaze, matching the senior student’s scarf as more of her features were revealed. They shared a similar colour to her own, but there was something nearly hypnotic about the lady’s which should have really jolted him to peek at his watch and bail.

“Ever been on a cringe crawl? S’when you hit the stiffest shot each stop on your pub crawl and the first person to pull a face loses. Bet we could take some pretty funny selfies!”
How utterly romantic millennial.
Which of course might hardly appeal to Victoria, but what might be expected of a rowdy, out-of-his-league teenager.

To Roy, claiming a shot (of a different type!) or two of them together was just insurance for the others in case they got separated and they dn’t believe he’d beat the challenge.

[Lady Nocturne]

Nocturne wondered if Dracula ever had to deal with morons like this.

"You're not dead with a stake through your heart," she replied conversationally. Then she added, with dark emphasis behind her smile, "Yet."

She should be happy. She was too depressed to look for a victim? Here was one wrapped up and delivered to her. But oh, such repulsive wrapping. When she was a teen dreaming of gothic villainy, such encounters had not figured in her fantasies. But, she supposed, she had to make due with what she had.

Nonetheless her annoyance flashed through to the surface when he turned her words back on her. Briefly her smile shifted back towards a snarl. How could he completely miss the point. Drunk, she reminded herself with disgust. But still spirited. Well, we'll see about that. She stepped forward, starting to put out her power to over-come his alcohol-fogged mind, when she paused.

There was something familiar about this boy. About his scent. Beneath the smell of his clothes and his alcoholic perfume, she was sure she knew him. That she had met him before, recently. But where? She could not place him. Oh well. It probably didn't matter. She could find out all she wanted to about him later, at her leisure, after she'd properly enthralled him.

She scoffed at his suggestion, arrogant smile returning with a bit of a sneer. "How... plebeian. I have a better idea -- but now I'm sure you're out of your league. You probably couldn't handle a single glass of a real liqueur." She attempted to transfix his eyes with hers, attempted to overpower his will. It was a gamble, since she'd had to show her face, but... well, miserable as this soul was, she wanted it now. "If you think I'm wrong -- if you can handle more than cheap words and cheap booze -- then..."

She turned, her left hand lifted in beckoning command, her last words lingering behind her in the suddenly still, cold air as she strode with foxy grace towards a sleek black sedan.

"Follow me."

This was a gamble too. If the combination of her powers and his desire to prove himself (and get more to drink) didn't impel him to obey, she'd have put out all that effort for nothing and he'd slip away. On the other hand, at least she'd be rid of him. For now. She was still wondering, in the back of her mind, where she'd smelt him before and if she would meet him again even if she did not ensnare him tonight.

[Speedy]

As the completely irritated vixen stalked forward, Roy took a step back, despite himself wanting to meet her halfway at once.

There was something mentally compelling him forward that every fibre of his physical being entreated him away from.

The youth began to feel…sleepy?
Peaceful.
Alarmingly so, if that made any sense.

His head fell under a different type of fog than had been ascribed to the alcohol, and he rocked on his feet slightly, pocketing hands that suddenly felt a touch too cold.

To an onlooker, it might look as though the ginger had gone shy, or simply lost his nerve, sobering up and coming out from under.
Nothing could be farther from the truth.

“Christmas miracles, right? I’m lucky to still be alive, Killer. You’re a total knock-out.”
He felt like he couldn’t take his eyes off the lady, and it was for more reasons than dumb teenage boy reasons now.

“My ideas? Common, coarse~. Yours? Better by default.”
He didn't even try to tease her anymore.
He didn't bristle at his manliness or whatever being challenged.
His gaze sharpened as his mind went lax under her influence.

Her voice was soothing his headache, why resist?

“By design.”
At first, he’d been his usual cheeky self, as follows their little game of tag called conversation. Now, his words came few and far between, but focused on compliance and even, courtesy. His lazy grin became an amicable, if somewhat bashful little semi-circle when his motor-mouth lost its vigour.

“As you wish.”
By the time she was gesturing him forward, he’d already followed her hand with that uncanny focus, gaze glazed, and fallen into line into her car like the common, imprinted beast he’d devolved into.
 
Not before, of course, holding open the door for the woman to enter first, with a little flourish to boot.
His ‘friends’ frowned now, as the timer hit 7 minutes and a half, and not because Harper had all but won this round.

Their games had never gone to stranger-danger territory…
Was…Harper being kidnapped?

The previously snickering scrub started scoping out the taxi situation before Harper sped off to who knows where with who knows who. Revealed by the moonlight and all other festive manner-of, they could admit Harper’s interlocutor was pretty, sure, but even from a short distance, and even as lacklustre mundanes, there was just something off about her behaviour. Not to mention Roy’s.

Even as a Kingston boor, one could be expected to have at least this much sense, you see.

A lot of what happened next depended on how fast Victoria's ride could go.

[Lady Nocturne]

She found herself pleasantly surprised at the boy's shift in attitude. For some reason she had expected resistance, or at least more resistance. She should not have doubted herself -- or the Jewel.

She smiled as she heard his footsteps behind her, following her to the car. It was a somewhat grim smile, as she knew they were being watched -- recorded -- and she could imagine what might come of that. She didn't believe that he was really twenty-one, and she could see the headlines. "Millionaire's Daughter Seduces High School Student". Well, let them talk. Let her family be horrified. Someday she'd do much worse to them.

She gave the boy a much warmer smile as he held the door open for her. "That's much better," she praised, as if he were an erring but dear servant. Which if all went well he might become, minus the "erring" part. It seemed that, under her influence, he could be quite well-behaved. "Thank you."

Inside, she pushed her hood all the way back. She had slipped her brandy flask back into her purse and pulled out a mirror. Deftly she fixed her hair while she waited for the boy to go around and get into the other side. Also she thought about her next move.

Part of her wished to skip the bar altogether and just take him to some alley. A small part of her, still smouldering at the insolence, just wanted to kill him. But the fact that there were witnesses limited her options. Even if the two peons were too inebriated to remember her face, their phone would. Even though she could make it look like an animal mauling, it was too much of a risk. Watching an "adult" drink himself into a stupour was one thing. His being found dead afterwards was another.

Besides. She looked over at him as he sat beside her, smiling, her eyes glowing witht he faintest hint of gold in their dark depths. She did not want to kill him, after all. She turned the key in the ignition, the engine purred as she eased her way out of the square.

"So, my boon companion, what shall I call you?" She watched him from the corner of her eye. Fortunately the streets were fairly empty at this time of night, so she could divide her attention and keep exerting her influence. Not so much as when she could focus on him, of course, but once under the spell it should not require as much effort.

Meanwhile the sedan skimmed along, heading for one of Jump's more elegant establishments. It did not occur to Nocturne that she might be followed; that the two she saw would have presence of mind to summon a taxi.

"You may call me Victoria." She would save the "mistress" for later.

[Speedy]

“Milady is far too kind, think nothing of it.”

As the dark car carrying equally dismal prospects for their comrade sped forward, the Kingston pair frantically clambered into a cab. It was dark out, and there were many cars on the road at this hour, many Ubers and Lyfts ferrying young and old in states much more akin to Roy’s than the other two students’ states, in that the passengers were blissfully unaware or unbothered by their immediate future.

For Harper, it helped that he had no idea what that really was.

“Yours.”
His response was immediate, dreamy, but obviously, 50% cheek and 50% charmed.

Harper was still lingering around the surface of his personality, and it was too forward of one to go down as easily as his common sense did when confronted with such a vision as Victoria.

Of course, this personality continued to maintain some safety net equilibrium with the sharing of identity; bragging about being Oliver Queen's young ward would come once they'd gotten a table at whatever fancy-pants establishment they were headed to.

To do so right away would be rude.
And less mysterious! He had to leave her wanting, right?

Isn't that how adults played?

When all was said and done, his primary concern  in the moment was the curious flash of gold deep within the crisp ocean that was the lady’s gaze. Long after she’d looked away, her new conquest was still fixated.

This would have been so even if he hadn’t been charmed into it all; Harper was a sucker for the eyes.

Victoria lost her tail in mere minutes, but a chipper chiming was going off in Roy’s pocket as two texts and the first phonecall came through.

Two bars into ‘All I Want For Christmas Is You’, and he didn’t even flinch, just continued to search the driver’s eyes, breathtaken, not even asking permission to pick up the call.

It just wasn’t important to him right now.

[Lady Nocturne]

Victoria couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes. Obviously they had a ways to go before he would do everything she wanted. The bar was definitely necessary to finish him off.

Not yet, you're not, she commented silently, as she laughed; but you will be soon.

The next thing to do was decide whether they would actually sit at the bar, or take a table. It would go quicker if all he did was drink, without any food; but the idea of sitting on a barstool really did not appeal to her. Besides, it might look less -

Her thoughts were interrupted by a hideous noise emanating from the direction of the boy. It was like a nasty piece of the holiday had penetrated into the dark sanctum of her automobile to blast her ears and brain with its false cheer. She grit her teeth, breath hissing, and glanced at her passenger. She considered having him answer it, but gods only knew who it was; and she she didn't want her spell broken by another voice.

"Can't you mute that?" she demanded smoothly. "It's ruining the mood."

And there they were. She pulled into the parking lot, noting with disfavour that the place seemed reasonably busy. Lots of people dining out apparently this Christmas. But she did not feel like driving elsewhere, so she parked and relaxed, waiting for her charmed victim to open the door for her.

[Speedy]

His heart skipped a beat.
A few minutes out from their destination, and her laugh’s only hearer heard that twinkle of darkness like a merry jingling of festive bells.

Sweet success!
He had made her laugh!
And…there was a mood?
She acknowledged the mood~ Where could this all possibly go?

Hopefully somewhere less populated, sometime soon, because neither of them would have their thirst quenched by the amenities of this establishment or another.

Giddiness did not trump charmed state, as Harper wordlessly powered his cellphone off right at the final ‘…Make my wish come true, baby--’.
He didn’t even have to look at the device to do so.
More like, he felt no urge to look elsewhere.

Although he didn’t want to lose eye contact with Victoria for even an instant, Roy tried not to clamber back out of the vehicle, careful to keep the interior as clean as possible.
What a privilege, to be so selflessly ferried by the object of his rapt attention!
It wouldn’t do to make a mess.

“Ladies first,” crooned the bamboozled teenager from beside the opened driver’s door, beaming.
A flash of irritation next, as he broke eye contact long enough to wrench his outward left arm into an upright ‘L’, just as one of the exiting patrons made a bit of a dart for his car in the chill air.

“H-HEY! WATCH IT, YA LITTLE SH--”
“--ouldn’t you watch where you’re going? Could’ve run Ms. Victoria over there, pal.”
The ginger glared down at the poor, newly sobered patron, and jerked his head to the side in a ‘scram!’ bent.
The grizzly, unsteady man begrudgingly complied, shoving his free hand into his pocket.

“Victoria!? What, are you escortin’ the Queen or somethin’? Stupid kid..”
Roy snorted as he fell into prep school snobbery for a sec’ despite not being that outstanding an all-rounder student himself; how long had it been since a ‘Victoria’ had ruled overseas..?

“You obviously didn’t go to Kingston.”
The muttering man peered into the dark sedan to try and see what manner of royalty Roy was busting his chops for, but his head suddenly found snow.

“…but I’ll spare you one lesson and give you the other.”
His head blustered about below Harper’s boot, nose worse for the wear and clogged with as many ice crystals as curses for the pair.

“Eyes to yourself.”
Considering the source, not very persuasive, but this guy had no context.
Deciding Harper was insane, the partially-snowblind, seething patron snuffled off into the night.

“You’ll have to excuse that lil’ bout of unsightliness! Shall we?”
Roy straightened both himself, and the collar of his Sherpa-lined jean coat above the scarf, offering Victoria his arm for the slick.

Somewhere back in holiday traffic, two Kingston students were freaking out and chewing their gloves in worry in the back of a cab.

[Lady Nocturne]

This was ridiculous. Nocturne was seriously starting to regret picking the boy up at all. Not only would she look like a creep, which was bad but tolerable for the black sheep of the Kingsley family; she was going to look like a fool, which was not tolerable. Somebody was going to die tonight.

Nocturne had been about to get out of the car when her prospective victim initiated his little fracas. She scowled most alarmingly, gold flashing from her eyes. Purple light welled from behind her robe, and she quickly placed her left hand over the Jewel which had begun to throb in response to her anger.

She took a second to compose herself, shooting the man a chilling glance as he looked at her. Then she turned and slid from her seat, standing in an eddy of snow as the wind picked up in the lot. She gave the wayward drunk a look that was equal parts disgusted and bemused as he got up and staggered to his car. What was such a creature doing here? It seemed far out of his class. Shaking her head, she closed the car door, careful not to slam it in her anger, and locked it.

Then she turned her anger on the boy. She contrived to make the placement of her left hand on her breast look like a gesture of personal offense. As her eyes still flickered with wrathful golden light, he might not even notice.

"I will not excuse such behaviour." Her words were as biting as the freshening wind. "You are making a scene, and behaving like a back alley tough instead of a gentleman. Correct it, if you wish to accompany me."

So saying, she swept past him, the wind billowing at her back. She hardly cared whether she had cowed him, or broken the spell with her reprimand. In fact she did not even check to see if he was following until she had gotten to the door and opened it.

[Speedy]

His proffered brace (as well as the boy attached to it), snubbed at once.

Her reprimand had certainly sobered the cocky high-schooler, but due partly to Roy’s attentions and intentions for the rest of the evening, Kingsley still held the hapless Harper under her sway.

And sway he did.
The words of disdain nearly landed him in the eddy from forth Victoria strode.

Or maybe it was the wild whip of wind tousling his hair and causing his neck to shrink back into the sherpa like a turtle.
One with more knowledge of the night-queen in question’s identity might even attribute the drop in temperature to her.

All the bravado and imagined heroism deflated along with his breath.
An ego like this couldn’t take a punch to its proverbial gut.

Roy suddenly realised the same fortuitous or otherwise egged-on tactics of showmanship that might work on some of his pretty peers were just not going to cut it towards the more mature.
Such realisation had certainly taken its time.

“Ah…of course, I-I..I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Yes he did, but that one-tracked-mindedness hadn’t helped.

“You don’t have to forgive anything, either, obviously. I don’t deserve it.”

But he bounced back quickly.
And to her side, quickly; shedding snow underfoot like a rotor in water humming back to life, clodding footsteps becoming more careful as the spell’s grip tightened again, fixating Harper once more on his almost-mistress.

“Wish? Do I. It’d be a dream come true. Forgiveness aside, may I have the favour of another chance to behave?”
Roy asked sheepishly, holding the now open door and then crooking an arm, gesturing to her extravagant coat. He was desperate to at least be useful in taking it to drape behind her seat, if to be so graced.

Within, a particularly wealthy, grinning, blonde-moustachioed businessman with slicked-back hair reminiscent of a certain young ward of his (when said youth was in costume), sipped carefully at something stiff and savoury, while the two raven-haired beauties to his left and the third on his lap were glaring one another down in between strained, light conversation and sweeter, more fragrant flasks, completely contrary to their moods, in some bizarre version of King of the Hill.

Perhaps, as Oliver Jonas Queen liked to think of it, a round of Queen of the Queen.

OoC; Sorry for the delay, Flam! One Queen playing the field, as requested c; |