gunmetalgaze

[gunmetalgaze]

#SL #NoGoodAnswers

Written by @GunmetalGaze and @OffKeyDeviant

Mentions @ToTheGrahve

*****

Xhex: [Tonight is my last hope of finding any lead on the missing male. I hate approaching the Brotherhood under the best of circumstances, and these are far from the circumstances I would choose. Who's missing? A male. Any name? Nope. Friends? Yes, but I can't  find him either. How do you know he's missing? Lash took him. Yeah. Great. I need something more. Anything. All I have is a timeline backed by some closed circuit security stills. None of my staff have heard anything, but they can't identify the best people to ask. Letting my senses thread out, I skim minds for anyone who any glimpse of either male. Spotting a pair of civilians I haven't spoken with yet, I ease my way through the crowd. Settling in beside them, I check the sightlines around me before giving a smile just large enough to expose my fangs. It may be widely known that this club is run by vampires, but there are a lot of humans on staff too. Pulling out the pictures of the male and his friend, I roll my shoulders, the sense of being watched most likely a symptom of my paranoia, and the alcohol still running through my system. Same old, same old. "Never seen either one, are they dangerous?" And my refrain, "of course not, I need to ask them a few questions." Leaning back against the bar, I watch the two scurry off with their drinks. Rolling my shoulders again, the single bottle of Spirytus behind the bar catches my eye. I'm probably killing myself, using that poison to sleep, but knowing Lash was so close has me on edge. And it may be one I throw myself off of.]

Adrian: [Heading back that pre-dawn morning without the trainee to that mansion, filled with males larger than any human bodybuilder hadn't been appealing in the least. Grahve was a grown boy by anyone's standards (boy I say, because 'm old enough to be his great grand-something x1000) and if he had chosen to drown his broken heart between a pair of legs at the end of the night who was I to demand any different of him. Only, I felt I should have. 

When Grahve didn't show up the next evening, hungover and ready to get his lead hot on the target range, I figured he wasn't ready to do the walk of shame because it became clear when two more spectacularly built males charged through the "I'll fucking kill anything that so much as looks in my direction". Qhuinn and the hothead kid, Crhistopher. Enough rumors, true ones at that, floated around that all three of them had been intimately involved. And the static that preceded either male was enough to power Caldwell for an entire winter with energy to spare.

Which explains why, without mincing words Grahve bolted that night. I'd learned a little about -not- getting between a bonded male and his mate. The King and Queen were the prime example. Blind or not, his highness could circumcise an atom with his fangs if it bounced amorously close to his female. Talk about pucker factor. 

Keeping my distance was only a tiny reason that found me back at the club. Balls in one piece, check. Asshole the usual diameter, check. Much as I like a good rim job on occasion, one from the King isn't on my bucket list. K, thanks. Folding my wings and letting them fade back to where they came from, I'd purposefully set down in the shadows a block away and remained invisible as I had every day and night when I arrived. I watched all the incoming and outgoing people, humans and vampires. I listened to their conversations. 

Between the two and my constant vigil, I still learned nothing new. Except that a particular woman, not too tall, lean muscled and with the demeanor of an electrocuted, pissed off wet cat, was the constant body in the place. Even the bouncers were rotated through, not the same faces every night but regular enough to look familiar. They treated the woman with the utmost respect and she did the same back. Working girl had been quickly ruled out, which left few choices that were further narrowed down when I caught sight of her frog-marching a drunk out the door. 

Head of security, perhaps? Only one way to find out, I thought as I slipped past the line and into the club. The darker hallway near the back rooms would give me the cover I needed to drop the invisible cloak without raising all kinds of "WTF's!" Conveniently slipping into the men's room when a half drunk man staggered out, his pants halfway to his ankles.. hmm, half moon out tonight.. and waited a moment before showing myself in the reflection of the mirror. 

Satisfied I'd been alone, I pushed back out the door and made my way to the bar, assuming the role of patron while keeping an eye out for a particular female.]

Xhex: [The lure of the bottle still isn't strong enough to pull me from my jobligation. No matter how much I don't want to deal with the drunk tripping on his trousers outside the private washrooms. Rolling my eyes, and my shoulders, I push off from the bar like a swimmer pushing off from the wall. I don't care about the humans scattering out of my way any more than the swimmer minds the water. I am fresh out of good manners tonight.  Too fucking bad my guys are on point, and have the drunk redressed and on his way to the door before I can drag him out. Spinning on my heel, I run right smack into the back of a large male, and every sense in me lights up, because my nerves are jangling. Threading a push at the mind attached to the offending expanse, I pull up short as what is in front of me registers. Not Lassiter, but just as bad.] Jesus fucking Christ! Is Caldwell holding a convention for you guys?

Adrian: [Waving off the barkeep after shotgunning a few rounds and idly turning to lean back around to face the writhing wave of over n' under sexed bodies, frustration was beginning to consume me on an epic level. Giving up on the trainee wasn't an option, and as much as I'd have liked to peruse a few more other 'heavenly bodies' to drown off my own deeper issues, finding the kid was taking point. I'd give in to temptation later, after we saved the world. Not all angels were… angels. 

The bump and grind matched tempo with some techno beat screaming through the speakers I didn't really hear. Raking a hand through my hair and dishing a less than heartfelt grin at a few ladies that managed to draw my attention for more than a cursory glance. Youd'a thought finding the female head of security would stand out a little more, I mumbled to myself, eyes scanning the crowd in methodically.

As if on cue, my skin prickled and I felt myself shoved forward. This was no bump into by a tipsy patron, and I didn't need to see to confirm; I -felt- it.  Wiping the unease off my face and slapping on a small grin, I turned, prepared for whatever was to go down.. ]

"Didn't expect you to have a sunny disposition and roll out the welcome wagon," I countered, the female's aura like nothing I'd encountered before. Par for the course, like I hadn't expected to be thrown into a den of vampire warriors after being forced to play a game of life and death at His whim. So it wasn't all that surprising that she neither felt human or vampire. And thank fuck she didn't have that telltale feel of demon. I shuddered internally at the intense relief there was only one demonic bitch to worry about.

"N' by the way, m' name's not Jesus, but many have mistaken me for him at certain times, but that's a story for another time" I quipped, still feeling out her aura. I'd ask Lassiter later, for now I needed whatever information I could get from her on Grahve's last known minutes here. My tone now serious.

"M' looking for info on a friend of mine. In private would be best." Wouldn't do any good to dish out all the details in the middle of the bar floor where it was possible one of those Lessers-whatever could be skulking about and overhear.]

Xhex: [Glaring at the angel, I consider telling him that Lassiter wore that joke out already, but it's probably a waste of my breath. Locking eyes with the male, I pull my watch up, and snap into it.] I'm off the floor. Nobody comes near my office for anything less than a dead body, clear? And call off inquiries about the two men. [My earpiece is filled with a staccato of acknowledgements. Addressing the dark haired male again, my hands twitch with the impulse to drag him to my office. Clearly, he has no clue the hell he abandoned his friend to, but I still want to wipe the grin from his face.] Follow me. [I growl, not even remotely civil, but the roiling in the pit of my stomach has only intensified. One step closer to finding the missing male is also one step closer to Lash. Whose picture is face down on the desk in my office, where I might finally get some answers. The most direct path to privacy happens to be through pretty much everyone, and I thread my way with all the subtlety of a cannonball, not once looking to see if the angel is following. If he doesn't, I'll have an excuse to go back and drag his feathery ass up the stairs. Not that I've ever seen Lassiter's feathers, but the stereotypical image has to come from somewhere. Leaving the door open, I settle into the chair behind my desk, schooling my features and letting my senses stretch out as much as they can with my cilices on. As soon as the male crosses the threshold, I start in, even as I gesture to close the door.] I'm Xhex. I run security here, and I have had every employee looking for anyone who can identify you or your friend for a week. Start. Talking.

Adrian:  HE must have had the humor of a rag doused in gasoline when he created the head of security, because she gave off the feeling the slightest bit of friction would light her fire in the worst way. 

Giving the lady (which I used the term figuratively because I was applying it based on assumption-yes, hypothetical gender fluidity and all that) a nod, I followed in the wake of parting bodies, as if the ebb and flow were used to the interruption. Nor did I hesitate at the 'open door and close it behind ya' ass' policy. Which I booted shut with a solid click behind me. This convo was attended by invitation only. 

The sparsely decorated box I'd just locked myself in had all the personality of a jockstrap and thankfully it didn't smell like one. A simple desk and chair, occupied by the lovely snap dragon I'd followed in, and a tall file cabinet were the only pieces of furniture herein. No windows, which explained why no cute little desk plant, and only one door. Also windowless. 

Cozy. Not. 

A moment more and I settled back against the door, both for feeling of something solid behind me and knowing it was my only exit.

"Not m' fault your boys at the door don't check IDs," I mused aloud before getting serious, noting the photo quality paper face down on the desk.

"N' my friend has been MIA for said week. Last I saw him, he was drowning himself at the bar, n' 20 minutes later he vanished." No need to describe any details on what I'd been doing in that 20 minutes, fairly sure there'd been no lack of cameras in the dark yet fully public hallway. 

Throwing out my angel senses and listening to them closely, I figured out what I'd already guessed, that this creature in front of me wasn't human. Her aura screamed she wasn't full vampire either and that I needed to tread carefully.

"No calls, no messages, no paper trail on him. I came back here t' see if you had any surveillance footage I could look at," I spoke with dead calm, because something told me whatever was on that photo held the answer I was looking for.

Xhex: Interesting for you to say no paper trail. Nobody knows who you are. Nobody knows who your friend is. So, I have no names, no next of kin, and no connections whatsoever to run with, when a male gets knifed and abducted outside the back door of this club. [Leaning back in my chair, I kick up my feet, and hook one boot heel under the lip of the desk. Rocking slightly, I catalogue what little I know of the whole clusterfuck I find myself in the middle of, watching the angels's face for any twitch or tell.] There is surveillance, so I know that a week ago, you left your boy for some action. That's when his life went to hell. The male that picked him up is painfully well known among vampires, but not his whereabouts. For your friend's sake, I hope he's dead. Lash loves to break his toys. [Kicking up my chin, I use my boot heel to push the photo across the desk, and the motion to cover as I swallow repeatedly. My own stint as Lash's captive plaything threatening to overwhelm me, it takes an effort to bring myself back to the here and now.] So tell me, angel, do I need to contact someone about Fade ceremony arrangements, or is your friend a fighter? 

Adrian: [As each word came pouring from the head of security's mouth, all I felt was nauseated. Knowing that I'd all but delivered Grahve to be this Lash's midnight snack was enough to spiral me into a week long visit to the demon bitch after his body was recovered. If it was recovered.

Reaching for the graciously offered print, I fought to keep my expression neutral, noticing the way the female seemed to be struggling to keep something  from fighting it's way to the surface. Something to do with whomever was on the other side of that photo, perhaps? Must have been a doozy given the way everyone reacted around the hardass outer shell she wore like those painted on leathers she was sporting.]

"You'll have t' forgive the lack of formalities, m' name's Adrian, and my friend is one of the Brotherhood's trainees. Grahve. So we're not exactly the kind t' have next of … wait, you said knifed?"

[Sliding the paper to the edge of the desk and flipping it over, all that sourness in my gut threatened to redecorate the tiny, suddenly claustrophobic space with leftovers to spare. Grahve, taken out back and slaughtered like an animal.. all because I'd stepped away to get a piece.

Shoving the bile back down, the blondish kid in the photo had the comical look of a maniacal, psychotic killer. He looked more like he should be the poster child for an episode of The Addams Family.

Staring hard at the image, each breath punched holes in my chest at the thought of what the trainee had gone through based on the female's report. How much more he could be suffering; the mental hurt with whatever drove him out of the house in the middle of a lockdown had to have been hard enough to endure. Being stabbed? On the nightly, but it was usually during a fight that was begging to happen and then with a laugh and wave the trainee would hobble himself to one of the docs for a quick stitch and be back out before a hot cup of coffee could go cold.

Being already compromised emotionally and liquefy his comprehension and balance and this.. fuck comes along?

God. Damn. It.]

"He's a fighter!" [The paper in my hand crumbled to the size of a golf ball, fingers curled and gathered it in a barely controlled shaking fury, the sound unheard as the muffled ringtone assigned to Vishous screeched in my pocket. Digging the device out and hitting answer, eyes not leaving the female camped back in her chair.]

"Little busy..." [Vishous' voice was sharp and to the point, his words another dig at trying to evacuate my last meal. Eyes narrowed as I turned to the door, ending the call.] "I'm on it." 

"The trainee is holed up in a hotel, could be a trap with this Lash holding him there," I mumbled, glancing at the female while waiting an eternity for the text for the hotel.]

Xhex: [Shit. One of the Brotherhood trainees? Could I be any more fucked? At least my end will be quick, if Wrath demands my life for losing one of his trainees. Then again, this may be my chance to take Lash out of the equation, even if I go too. Opening my mouth to respond, I snap it shut as the angel, Adrian, pulls out his phone. As the angel speaks, my course is set. Kicking back from my desk, I snag my jacket that contains a pitiful selection of weaponry, and lament the lack of time to remove my cilices. But the only path to Lash, without getting shut out of Brotherhood business, is getting ready to march put my door.] I'm coming with you. If it's not a trap, Lash has been compromised somehow. [Darting in front of the angel, I look straight up, keeping my voice level.] Your friend? He's not going to be the same. He may have only been held a week, but he may very well wish he'd died. [God knows most nights, I wish that I had.] So are you sharing that address, or making me follow?

Adrian: [Eternity had never drug its feet so slowly before. Brother Tattoo Face was going to get an earful when all this was said and done, makin' my ass wait. While in the split moment it took to end the call and bring up the message board, the female moved faster than a cat after a mouse to stand between me and the door. Call me sexist for this but if it had been a male jumping between me n' the door, it'd have been the wrong move 'cause I'd have plowed over his ass like I was aiming to create roadkill.

She made sense and that stalled me for a fraction to consider. Either way, I was bringing the trainee home.]

"Keep up, n' don't get caught." [That was all I had time to say as the alert I'd waited a mini-millenia for cracked the silence.]

"Got it, bad side of town… an' m' familiar that hotel." [I tipped the screen so Xhex could read the address. It was the same hotel Jim burst into and triggered one of Devina's 'silent alarms'. No longer waiting or into playing nice, I pocketed the phone and reached around Xhex to open the door. Marching out I spoke low to avoid anyone else getting any funny ideas of following us.]

"I go in first, trust me when I say no one will see me unless I want 'em to."

Xhex: [The crack about not getting caught knocks the wind out of me. Fuck that right out the window. If I get caught again, I will take my own life. It's not like I believe all that bullshit about the Fade anyway. Scanning the screen that gets tilted my way, I nod once, knowing the area well. Like I know most of this city. This angel might not know me, but if he's in the Brotherhood's sphere, he should have a clue or two about my kind.] Pretty sure he can pick up on me, even when I use my symphath tricks. If your ability keeps you off his radar, more power to you. All I want is a shot. I owe that fucker. [Pulling my wrist up, I brief my boys that I'm out for the night. A chorus of affirmatives comes back at me, and not one single question. I regret that I'm stuck with my cilices hampering my bad side, but this angel is not slowing down for hell or high water. So neither am I.]

#NoGoodAnswers #BondedBrothers 

[gunmetalgaze]

Trick Of Timing

[The sun is coming up outside my window as I finally get ready for sleep. My inability to settle is never a sign of a good days’ rest to come. The light creeping across the floor is oddly comforting, and yet… Rising from the chair, I check my locks for the fiftieth time. There's no way to check the steel mesh lining the walls, but how would anything ever damage it, without damaging the walls? Between the mesh, the locks, and the sunlight, I am safe from vampires. Symphaths are all pulling a Garbo, and just want to be left alone. Humans are too lazy to bother my cabin. Trying to still my body, I inhale deeply, the scent of pine boards clear, with a hint of cedar from the closets. I should sand and varnish the floors again. Check if the windows need to be sealed. Stop stalling, and avoiding my bed. How long has it been since I truly slept? I don't have a clue anymore. Long before Lash abducted that male outside the club.Looking down at the pictures I pulled from the security footage, I hope the male is dead. For his sake. But somehow, I know better. If all Lash  wanted was a quick kill and a body drop to stir up some panic, the male would have been knifed in the club. Sitting back, I flip through the pictures with one hand, and grab the open bottle of alcohol with the other. Downing a swallow, I cringe at the burn. This stuff is barely legal, because it /is/ mostly alcohol, but sometimes it helps me sleep. Two males. One abducted, and his wingman who left after a cursory search for his friend. No ID on either of them, despite a week of my staff discreetly asking around. Nobody has come looking for either of them.The last photo catches my eye before I can stop myself. A brief second when Lash looked directly at the camera above the door, the wink probably nothing more than a trick of timing. I take another hasty pull from the bottle, counting on the burn to kill the nausea. This was the image my tech guys pulled up that had me vomiting into a waste basket in their office. Since I never take sick days, everyone believed I was simply overdue for illness. Not that I lost my lunch at the sight of the male who held me captive for a month.Tossing the papers face down on my table, I take one more long swallow from the bottle before using it as a paperweight. Sleeping pills would probably be smarter, but the alcohol is easier to shake off when I need to function.Inside the bedroom everything is exactly as it should be. The bed is nothing more than the most basic bed frame and mattress, plain white sheets, a reasonable blanket, and one thin pillow. Walking past the innocuous piece of furniture, I check everything in the washroom; refolding the towel, adjusting the toothbrush, checking my floss supply, holding my cilices up to the light to inspect for any signs of wear, or any missed blood. With less than nothing to do in the loo, I head back to my room. To the bed. It's not really about the bed. I discovered that already. It's about sleep, no matter where, but the bed is the worst. The sightlines of the bed are perfect, with a clear view into my main room, and the washroom, and out the one window. Two bedside tables, where I initially only had one. One dagger and one handgun on each table, one dagger and one gun in each drawer. Same for the single pillow, a piece and a blade in easy reach at all times. Paranoia is /such/ a fun companion.] What the hell is wrong with me? Just get in the fucking bed already, Xhex! [A dark laugh rolls through the room from behind me. “That's right, bitch. Get in the fucking bed already.” The odd hollow echo of the voice freezes me in place. “Oh? You're  going to make me drag you to the bed? Fuck you on the floor? You know I'll take you any way I can get you. Every way I can get you.” Hot breath tracing up the back of my neck snaps me back to myself. Shit. Am I asleep? Please let me be asleep. If I’m asleep, I can wake up, but if I’m awake, I’m worse than dead. “Did you like the playmates I sent you? You took that bait so easily. That’s how well I know you. Better than anyone. Better than Rehvenge, or Murhder, or any of the other males you spread those legs for.” I don’t remember closing my eyes, but they’re shut tight, like he’s not really here if I don’t look at him. The tip of a blade presses into the skin above the small of my back, dragging slowly upwards, a trickle of blood following even as the sharp edge slices through the fabric of my sports bra. Something about that statement… Murhder, Lash never knew about him. I must be asleep. “You’d like to think so, wouldn’t you? Who are you to think I couldn’t have gotten inside your head?” He's right. Nobody knows the extent of what the Omega can do, so nobody knows the extent of what his son can do. Oh shit, he's right and he's here. My skin crawls as I feel the wet heat of a tongue licking at the blood on my back. My pulse and my breathing are the only things moving, racing really, as I stand frozen. I can feel my whole body flushing and paling by turns, my ears burning hot as I try to make any part of me move. "Blood is key. I could have kept you longer, if I'd gotten this male sooner. Especially /this/ one. He wanted me, so he would have kept his hands off /you/." As soon as I feel a hand slide under the remains of my bra, I snap, spinning. And fall flat on my ass, out of the chair, kicking over the table. The pictures scatter in a flutter, the one of Lash lying face up, as the bottle crashes, shattering and spraying alcohol everywhere. If I don't do something, I'm not going to be able to keep ip any illusion of being functional at work. One more night. One more night, looking for any more information at the club, then I take what I have to the audience house. It might not be Brotherhood business, but they can get the word out. And come hell or high water, I will be part of any hunt for Lash, though it will likely be the last thing I do.] #TrickOfTiming #Solo #BondedBrothers

[gunmetalgaze]

Hide and Hide Some More

[Nothing like firing a greedy human for skimming cash to set a really bad mood for the night. The club is already short staffed, and splitting my time between ZeroSum and the Iron Mask does not help things. I need to hire more people, vampires, if possible. Not that I expected greater loyalty from them, but the sight of the Brotherhood table filled with warriors should put the fear of Wrath in them. Provided the slackers ever show up again.

Slamming the locker door shut, I smile in grim satisfaction, not at the metallic clang that echoes over the muted din, but at the startled squeak and curse from the man who moved his hand too slowly. Some tough guy. His tattoos are bad enough that they could have been drawn on with a sharpie, and if his military haircut was inspired by basic, he probably washed out the first day.] You dig any deeper in that thing and you’d be in the ladies’ room. [Palm up, I gesture impatiently for the bag. “That’s my stuff!” The gorilla has his broad face screwed up, and is still shaking out his right hand.] Here’s the deal. Your employment is being terminated with cause. Cause being theft. Even if I didn’t have police powers here, this would be legal. Now hand it over so I can make sure that it is all your stuff, and get you the hell out of here.

[A beat passes before the bag moves, a putrid stench wafting behind it. The human has a long list of addictions that are clearly starting to kill him. While vampires can often smell illnesses, this is not the scent of diabetes or cancer. His constant sniffling is not from any allergy, but too much self medicating. Poking through the bag, I have to roll my eyes at the bottle shaped sock, shaking my head as I pull the glass out of the fabric. No wonder this knuckle dragger never moved past cracking open Coronas.] I should let you keep this grenadine, since it’s nothing but pomegranate syrup. But I won’t.

[Shoving the fetid bag against his chest, I wait as he scrambles to catch it before pointing to the door.] Out the front. One wrong move, and I will frog march you out. [Time to remind some employees that thieves here always get caught. Following...Jack? Sam? Whatever his name is out into the main body of the club, the humidity forms a sheen on my skin. The noise is as much a physical presence as the crush of bodies.

Large as he is, the strung out crowd still parts reluctantly for the former bartender. Behind him, I get a wider berth, no doubt a testament to my mood. Glaring down anyone who gets too close, I make certain to send pointed stares at two other staffers I suspect may be skimming. It’s possible they came up short because of the crook I am currently marching out, but I’m not certain. Yet.

A prickle starts at the base of my spine; an itch, a tingle, spreading up and creeping through my body. Something is off. Something is setting my nerves on edge, and with my cilices clamped firmly on my thighs, my ability to pinpoint it is limited. It’s not often that I consider my symphath abilities a benefit in the club, but tonight is an exception.

Some sort of trouble is slowing traffic at the main entrance, but the meat in front of me is big enough to muscle his way through.] OUT! [ I bark, shoving him firmly between the shoulder blades, causing him to stumble into the knot of bodies blocking his way.] Do not come back, or I will throw your ass out like yesterday's trash. [As he pushes through, a new wave of stench hits me, lighting up every neuron in my body.

Lessers.

Shit.

Signalling to the closest bouncer inside the club, I indicate he should finish the walkout as I scan for the undead scum who are even less welcome on my watch. Doesn't take too long for a pair of paling assholes to stand out. Only two, huh? Must be some sort of scouting party, which was bound to happen with the Brothers playing a rousing game of hide-and-hide-some-more. I'd say the two were going out of their way to antagonize the clientele, but lessers have never been good at polite society.

Shouldering my way between them, I fix my eyes on each in turn.] Are you two walking out of here right the fuck now, or do I need to drag you out by your non-functioning dicks? [Kicking up my jaw, I have to fight back nausea at my own barb, a painful reminder that Lash is not impotent. Keeping my body loose in case thing turn violent right here, I jerk my head towards the door.] Don't think I can't. I run security in this club, so none of my boys will step in to save your stinking asses. [With a matching pair of sneers, the two turn toward the exit, knocking into as many people as they can in the short distance. I follow tight behind them, giving my guys on the line some bullshit story about a white supremacist hate group that bleaches their hair and skin. Explains the look and the smell, and makes sure they know to keep an eye open for any more of the undead.

A few quick words into my watch, and I am off after the pair of lessers I have kept my eyes on the whole time. They're obviously spoiling for a fight, so I need to keep my wits about me in case of an ambush. Why am I taking my fifteen minute break to do the goddamned Brotherhood’s job for them?]

#BondedBrothers #HideAndHideSomeMore

[gunmetalgaze]

#CoupleGoals

[Valentine's Day. The most miserable, overdone, saccharine parade of sentiment known to humanity. And by extension, vampires. My symphath side though, oh, she can find an upside to this day. Even if I had to endure my own form of torture before getting to the payoff.]

Are you sure this dress needs to be taped on? I have zero clue about the makeup, but the woman in the shop said nobody could wear this dress without Spanx, until she saw it on me. [And that comment nearly got the saleswoman punched in the face, until I remembered hearing some of the working girls in the locker room, lamenting that they couldn't wear shapewear and do their jobs. Scanning the locker room for anything that might need upgraded, I try not to begrudge these three their fun. It's not like it’s everyday they get to play dress up with the head of security as their doll.

“No offense, but we know about maintaining a look, all night, no matter what - or who - you are doing.”

Giving a small, tight smile that does little to hide the clenching of my jaw, I spread my arms wide.] Have at it then. Turn me into a Valentine dream. And no, you don't know him. [A hot date. Something special. A convenient lie to make sure I can keep my game going another year. It takes no time for the ladies to help me shimmy into the dress. A few pieces of two-sided tape, and a little too much groping of my breasts in my opinion, and it's on to the next battle. My lack of proper undergarments gets all three of them rolling their eyes at me. Apparently the wrong lingerie ruins the lines, and plain cotton panties are definitely wrong. I'm too stunned to object when they strip the things off me, but what can it hurt to go one night without panties? A towel is wrapped around me to protect the dress from any spilled makeup while much chatter goes on about my cheekbones, my lashes, my general lack of hair - facial as well as my cut - and any number of other things that I let wash over me. I open my eyes - and my mouth for some reason? - for mascara, but decline any and all perfume. There have to be /some/ limits. Somehow, the ladies create an illusion of more hair. Before I can panic, it's time for the death traps that pass for shoes. Another argument starts about those.

“She's already so tall!”

“But look what they do for her legs!”

“And her ass.”

“A man would have to be a giant to not be intimidated by a woman that tall.” Enough of that noise.]

Any man who is not confident enough to stand beside me while I wear these shoes, can be kicked to the curb by them. [While I would always prefer a solid pair of combat boots for that job, I have to admit that I could stab someone with these, in a pinch. Good thing, too, as there is no way this dress can hide a blade. The tiny clutch bag barely holds my phone, some cash, and the lipstick the working girls insist on sending with me.

After reassuring them them that I /can/ walk in heels, and dodging their efforts to find out where my “date” is happening, I call for a cab to pick me up at the back door. One year I may push too things too far, and I don't want to answer questions about my evening. A quick wave, and I'm in the cab, considering scrubbing the memories of this torture from the ladies, but leaving them alone as always. I rattle off the restaurant name to the cabbie, Chez Whatever-the-Fuck the most romantic restaurant of the year is, and his brows pop slightly. Yeah, because Trade street is far from the high end cuddling couples stretch of restaurants, physically and figuratively. The drive is surprisingly quick, so I tip the driver a little extra. Given the hints of marijuana coming off the upholstery, the direct route was a pleasant surprise.

A pretentious lackey in a red vest and bowtie opens the door for me, and I take the offered hand as I attempt some form of car/dress yoga that does /not/ flash my assets to everyone milling around. I shouldn't have let the girls keep those panties after all. How the hell does this even work? Swinging my legs out, I hope for the best. The valet, door boy, or whatever his job description is, looks around for a second occupant briefly, before ushering me toward the door.

Inside is enough red to have my heart playing jackhammer in my chest, but I am still firmly in control. For now. Red roses. Red heart balloons. Red confetti hearts scattered on blessedly white tablecloths. Giving the name of the reservation at the hostess stand, I get the familiar look about being alone when the reservation is for two. I make a show of checking my phone, nearly losing the absurd tube of goo as there is no extra room in the clutch, and shake my head at the hostess.]

He’s running late. You'd think a heart surgeon could get Valentine's day off, right? [A tiny push of suggestion into her mind, and suddenly she thinks it is the sweetest thing in the world that my darling surgeon doesn't want me to stand around waiting. Especially given all the special requests noted, and paid for, on the reservation.

My table is the only one still empty, having timed this for the height of their rush. One of their better tables for a romantic evening, it has a little more window visibility than I care for, but a good view of the entire space. Not that I need to see anything in here for what I have planned. I could do without the cloying mix of perfumes, colognes, and candles, though the food smells quite good.

A waiter approaches, wearing the same red vest and bowtie combo as every other male staffer in the place, and hesitates with the wine list. Because ingrained sexism is still alive and well. I reach for the leather folder with as large a smile as I dare.] Wonderful. I'll go ahead and order drinks while I wait. [Sending out threads of my symphath side to start reading the room, I lower my voice to a stage whisper.] He's clueless about fine wines, anyway. [Still reluctant to break protocol, I have to tug the slightly before the human nods, and hustles off to his next table. The list is designed to maximize margins, of course. Cheaper stuff with fancy names marked up to trap those who want to buy the most expensive thing. That trick works in restaurants, but not so much in clubs, and I know my alcohol.

When the human returns, I order a bottle of their /actual/ best red. His attitude toward me eases as he heads off to take care of my order.

Finally, I get a hot minute to get a real read on this crowd. The lust is a no brainer, and not worth my effort to tweak. No. I want the dirty secrets, the lies, the cheating, the breakups a heartbeat away from happening. Two couples stand out for my special attention. One woman who desperately hopes her date doesn't propose, since she already plans to break up with him - tomorrow, in fact - but he has plans to record their evening for blackmail. Niiiice. I'm not personally big on the sex tape blackmail though, so I plant a few little mental landmines guaranteed to make sure the only video he gets is of his own performance issues.

My waiter returns, does the pour and taste routine before both glasses are filled, and leaves two menus. My second target couple have both been cheating, with their business partner. Combing through their minds, I have to admit the man has skills. Not just in the bedroom. He has them both embezzling money, and convinced he will run away with them, if only they would get a divorce. So why are they in the most romantic restaurant in Caldwell, playing at being #CoupleGoals? Prenup, natch. Stoking their mutual desire for the same man, it isn't long before phones are being checked under the table.

Speaking of phones, I play with mine again as the waiter returns. “Is everything well, miss?” Oh. He's worried about a tip. There's a line for tables in case someone pulls a no-show, but how do you kick out the single who made the first reservation for Valentine's?] No problem at all. He's on his way. [Pulling out a hundred dollar bill, I press it into the waiter's hand, at the same time as I press the suggestion into his brain that everything is perfect at this table.] I'm ready to order now. I plan to enjoy my meal.

[I look quickly down at the menu, as everything in my vision flips to red. I plan to enjoy more than one type of meal tonight, and all these human couples can self destruct for all I care. Their personal demons, my personal playthings. The upside of being a Symphath.]