Thread Roulette: Anastasia and Martin

[Event !]

Some people are just conspicuous.

[Martin Pratt]

Club life was something Martin had sorta bypassed, amazingly so. He turned twenty-one in Afghanistan, you see, and there wasn't many clubs out there, you see. Once he'd returned state-side he wasn't really looking for any sort of situation that dealt with a lot of people in a windowless building with too-loud music. It actually sounded like a horrible idea for the guy, so whenever his buddies went clubbing, Martin volunteered for the DD, and sat in the parking lot until his buddies came stumbling outside with women latched to their arms and/or wallets.

However. He didn't have his sister living with him when he was in the military, and now he did, and Lea got snippy if she didn't get to party at least once a week. Now, Martin wouldn't particularly mind such a schedule or habit, because Lea was a grown woman now and allowed to do that sort of stuff--however, she insisted that he go with her most of the time. She had it in her head that they could be each others'....wingman or something crazy like that. Martin wasn't looking for a relationship! He wasn't healthy enough! He just wanted to go to work and then relax on his days off.

But that didn't change the fact he was leaned against the bar, a beer in one hand with his other hand in his pants pocket. He obviously didn't want to be there, what with his stoic expression, with the do-not-approach-me set of his shoulders, and with the way he barely touched the drink in his hand. He just did not want to be here. But he was here anyway, because Lea had that way of getting him to do things he didn't want to do. So he'd be here until she got bored or got cut off and then he'd have to drag her to another bar or club to start over.

[Anastasia van Drakke]

It had been a spur of the moment decision, to go out and enjoy Pilot Ridge's rather limited nightlife. Ivan was painting, and so wired in he'd barely responded when she'd kissed his cheek goodbye and reminded him to change out of the Armani shirt if he was going to start being too hands on. Pilot Ridge was not exactly a fashion capital, so Eva had kept it simple in a little black dress, black blazer and black pumps that gave her an extra four inches. The trademark fur was kept to a minimum; a detachable black sable collar for her coat.

The music had hit her like a bag of rocks to the face. Bass that shook the floor and some male voice auto-tuned to hell and back bitched about his girlfriend talking to some other guy. Anastasia's mouth twisted in displeasure; pop music was shallow and soulless dribble. Completely devoid of any emotion but raging hormones and jealousy. There was plenty of that here though. The blonde glanced from person to person, letting herself get a quick snapshot of the emotions around her. It made it easier for her to deal with the drag and pull of all the feelings around her if she could locate and avoid pockets of unrest, or people who may try and touch her.

"Vodka," she ordered, moving to rest an arm on the bar, then seeing the mess on the surface and moving back. "On the rocks." That was one thing she always missed around Russia when she returned to the states. Mother Russia brewed damn good vodka. The man pouring her order started for a moment too long, and Anastasia felt his confusion and where have I seen you before, then saw the slow realisation.

"Hey, are you Anastasia van Drakke?" he finally asked, having to almost shout to be heard over the music. He set the tumbler down in front of her, the ice clicking. "You were on the cover of that magazine my wife reads." His <curiosity/surprise/excitement> pressed on her like mud, but Anastasia hid the grimace she could fell and just smiled. Looking for another emote to ride on to wash off the human's childish excitement, Eva did a quick scan. Now, that was unusual. The <boredom> the well built man at the other end of the bar was feeling stood out nicely in the mess of excitement, arousal and vernal drunkenness. She moved over, not bothering to speak. She didn't need to talk to him to let the obvious <tension/hostility> breath through her like cold water on hot skill. It felt almost as good as the cold vodka warming her stomach.

[Martin Pratt]

Martin's eyes ran a random routine around the place. People humping on the floor, people trying to eat each other in the booths and against the walls, a line leading out of both bathrooms (which was pretty unusual, normally it was just out of the female restroom), and people cramming against the bar waving money for more liquid courage. He sipped at his beer and let the almost-familiar taste ease his growing nerves. There was just too much going on in here. He wanted quiet and just one thing to grab his attention, not this entire building full of adults (and possibly some minors).

He was distracted when a skinny thing of a woman came up next to him. The way she approached (drink already in hand), he was under the impression she was going to talk him up or fall on him and throw up. When she did neither, he went back to looking around. However, her face stuck in his mind as something that pulled at a nerve. He'd seen her before. Usually, he'd just chalk it up to they'd met before, but recently he'd been forgetting things more and more--small things--and it got on his nerves. So he tried to rack his brain to remember why this woman looked familiar. His frustration mounted a little.

The silence between them seemed to push the music far away and this granted him a moment of peace--however he still couldn't remember. He sighed, finally and cast an attempt-at-playful glance at her. He knew her. Her face was familiar. For some reason he kept thinking about a magazine, but it was too vague for it to make sense. Maybe she was one of Lea's friends? He couldn't get past that, though. Concentrating so hard was making it harder to think. "Havin' a good time?" He asked, casually. If she responded with his name, he'd feel like a complete douche. Maybe she'd forgive him, for the sake of Lea (or maybe he was just crazy and didn't know her at all?)

[Event !]

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