spencerberkeley

[spencerberkeley]

Spencer: People will never be able to say I don't do good things for charity ever again. Spencer: [shared google doc, because he's not joking] Spencer: I'm thinking Lyudmila might be our best shot, even thought it pains me to say it. Spencer: Maybe Eleanor, though. 👀 Spencer: Thoughts? Additions?

Damon: This is my favorite of your campaigns. Damon: Oh that's good, you should tell him that. Repeatedly. Hang it on his door even. Damon: Send the doc over right now or so help me... Damon: Who's on it already? I have ideas.

[spencerberkeley]

@damonrutherford [text]

Spencer: We need to get your brother laid. Spencer: He's moping more than I am and I literally almost died. It isn't right. Spencer: Starting a google docs list of potential candidates. xx

[spencerberkeley]

DON'T WORRY, BE HAPPY:

Look, you know what happens if you don't spice up the dash. People die. Mistral's doesn't get enough love so...let's do this to it I guess idk. Features Spencer, Cassie, Nora, a bunch of NPCs and a vaguely referenced dude. Date: Evening of 21/8/24. Warnings: Kate up to her usual ish. 

“I hate French food so fucking much. Why are you doing this to me?”

“Laurent recommended the place, and I said I’d—”

The initial disgust present on Cassandra’s face dissipated in an instant, instead replaced by amusement, and all he could do was grimace in annoyance that he had somehow ended up calling her his best friend. There was no point finishing what he was about to say. Slowly, she lifted her hand from the thankfully (in her humble opinion) foodless table, giving him a dramatic thumbs-up.

“Don’t start this shit again.”

“Ooh friend!” The blonde cooed loudly.

Too late.

“French friend!”

This time it was Nora who chimed in, and he shot her a look that very much said ‘traitor.’

The reference earned a few sniggers from the others gathered around the table—Jessica and Llewellyn, in particular—and worse, drew the attention of several onlookers. Spencer didn’t care enough to offer them any attempt at an apology for bringing literal farm animals to dinner, but tried to hush the pair of idiot blondes for his own sake.

They were a party of eight and he regretted almost every choice intensely. Cassandra and his former girlfriend, Jessica Mirzoyan, sat opposite, smirking like school girls at his expense. His two sisters flanked her new partner, his cousin, Llewellyn, to his left. Camilla’s husband, Philip, and his childhood friend, Jack, were engaged in their own conversation, entirely separate from the mess at the table, to his right. They were down two, though. Jasper and his new girlfriend—or old, if they were going to get technical about it, he supposed—were also supposed to be in attendance, but given her apparent reticence sparking concern during their vacation earlier in the month, Spencer suspected it was for the best that they weren’t being subject to whatever the fuck this was.

“You know when you lecture me about being too busy with work to socialise with you?” Spencer began, pointing a finger at Cassandra accusatorily. “Maybe it’s because you’re shit.”

“I’m actually a blessing, but okay.”

“A blessing,” Nora repeated for emphasis, taking a very ladylike sip of her champagne. “Speaking of blessings, though, where is Alexis? You better not have left her at home with the kids so you can get drunk on a school night…”

“Nah, some shit came up with Gaius. Mum is babysitting.”

“Mine, too,” Camilla added.

“She’s watching all of them?! You realise dad has the larger inheritance, right? This better not be some morbid tactic to send the woman to an early grave…”

The conversation was light-hearted, and he appreciated it given the weight his day had landed squarely on his shoulders. A meeting with Elizabeth Acton had left him reeling so spectacularly, Spencer had almost cancelled last minute so he could go home and try to figure out what the fuck he was going to do. As much as he pretended the people surrounding him were nothing more than irritants, however, the reality was that in that moment, he was more grateful for the distraction than they could begin to understand. Particularly when he was no longer sure that this could be as regular an occurrence as he’d like going forward.

Eventually, the food was delivered by a very proud looking waiter. Most displeased was he, upon returning to check on their progress, to see Cassie pushing hers around the plate like a petulant toddler who would’ve been better suited to chicken nuggets.

It was the first time everyone had been relatively quiet, though; a contrast to the otherwise bustling restaurant around them.

Until the ambience was disturbed by a shrill shriek coming from outside.

Spencer checked his Rolex. 19:39.

In typical British fashion, everyone’s eyebrows pulled into a frown, though none commented aloud. It was more an annoyance—how dare somebody mildly inconvenience their evening with such unbecoming behaviour—as opposed to concern for what may have caused the outburst. The only one seated at their table that seemed to be worried about what might be happening outside of their little bubble was Nora, typically enough, and she attempted to steal a glance through the window they were seated beside.

“It’s South Ken, Nora. Somebody was probably spotted wearing last season’s Chanel,” Jack brushed it off, though not without attempting to get a look, himself.

Spencer almost huffed out a laugh at that, but it died in his throat before it ever reached the others.

Suddenly, something just…didn’t feel right.

A few people around them had got up from their tables with similar intent to be nosy; perhaps, when they noticed the normal evening crowds making their way down the street begin to disperse in what was almost certainly not a reaction to somebody’s poor fashion choices.

It wasn’t his first time being caught up in a situation like this, but given how he reacted, one could’ve been fooled into thinking so.

It couldn’t have been more than twenty seconds between the first scream and the sound of gunshots ripping through the comfortable normality of Kensington and Chelsea. The onslaught was so loud it couldn’t have been anywhere else but right outside, and as much was confirmed as the sounds of nearby windows shattering intermittently pierced the panicked screams of the diners.

Champagne and fois gras was sent flying as people sought cover beneath their tables. Threw them aside in an attempt to get away from the room and the stray bullets finding the interior, entirely. Except it didn’t much seem like they were strays. It seemed like someone was aiming them directly at the fucking restaurant.

Pick a table by the window, Laurent had said… It’ll be fun, he’d said…

Spencer reflexively grabbed for Nora, attempting to drag her beneath the table to take cover, but she was attempting her own rescue on Cassie, and she was out of his grip before he ever truly had it. Philip was trying to pull his wife to safety, but the continuous shots in their direction made it hard to tell where was safe, and where was directly in the fucking firing line.

What were they supposed to do? Where were they supposed to go?

Glancing around for something they could all duck behind, every single sense heightened by the immediate shot of adrenaline, he took note that a woman a table over had clearly been struck. Though he could see her moving, the blood pooling around her seemed so swift in its escape, he probably would’ve wondered if her demise was an inevitability had he not been so focused on trying to help the people he loved avoid a similar fate.

Everything was a blur, eerily reminiscent of another time he’d been showered in glass at the hands of murderers.

Why here? Why now?

A Frenchman lying limp on the blood-stained pavement outside answered both of those questions, but nobody present beneath the table could’ve known that.

It felt like an eternity of ragged breathing and thumping hearts until it finally stopped.

The screaming didn’t, though. Nor did the wails of pain. Grief, in some cases, he didn’t doubt.

“What the fuck—” Jessica, always the calm and collected one, was utterly betrayed by the wavering in her voice. Spencer was surprised she could string a sentence together at all.

“What’s happening? Is everyone all right?” Camilla, then.

Cassie was practically catatonic, and he realised quickly, this was not her first encounter with a firing squad. It seemed she was even less equipped to deal with it than he felt. Maybe in some cases, experience wasn’t always such a good teacher…

“I think I’m bleeding,” Nora said shakily.

Spencer’s head shot up immediately in spite of the fact everyone else was too scared—rightfully so—to stray from their hiding spots. What was to say whoever had done this wasn’t just fucking reloading? What if this wasn’t really over as quickly as they thought it was?

“What do you mean? Where?”

“Oh, Jesus.”

“It’s just—” His sister’s attempt at an explanation was cut off as she gasped out in pain, Llewellyn attempting to place pressure on the wound. “It’s just my arm. I think it hit my arm.”

“We need to get out of here. Is everyone else good?”

“There’s blood on me, too, but I think I’m—” Philip started, his slicked-back hair dishevelled for perhaps the first time in his existence, before he was looking right at Spencer. “It’s not mine. Spencer, you’re bleeding.”

What?

Maybe it had been a mistake to assume he felt so detached from that moment because of stress, or anxiety, or pure fight-or-flight reflexes. In fact, he hadn’t felt a fucking thing until he’d looked down at himself, the faces of the others around him paling. It didn’t require too much searching when ‘you’re bleeding’ suddenly felt like the biggest understatement in the world. Evidently, when he’d jumped to his feet in an attempt to grab for his sister, he’d exposed himself to the window.

He hadn’t felt a fucking thing then but he sure did now.

The blood was soaking into his dress shirt at a terrifying speed, and he was suddenly very aware of an intense pain growing just beneath his ribcage. Oh, fuck.  

One hand reached for his upper abdomen, another for the table.

One missed and he found himself falling to the ground, body suddenly weak as though it took seeing it with his own eyes for his brain to fucking register what was happening.

It was enough to break Cassie out of her trance, though.

Might’ve laughed at her crawling toward him hurriedly on all fours like something out of a horror movie if he hadn’t felt himself starting to fade a moment later.

Maybe he hated French food now, too.

And maybe, he wouldn’t have to worry so much about Elizabeth propping him up to be the next Leader of the Conservative Party if he was fucking dead.

[spencerberkeley]

It wasn't often he found himself in Hyde Park. London had plenty of open spaces to search for peace of mind, and one crammed to the brim with obnoxious fucking tourists wasn't exactly appealing. Still, its proximity to work had been convenient, and when his eyes caught sight of Adriana of all people, in this same corner of the park, he couldn't help but wonder whether he'd found his way there by fate.

When had he ever not said something on his mind before..? The politician gave his friend a grimace to remind her he didn't need her permission.

"Well, I just thought you might want to know you look fucking homeless."

@mobscene-starters Where: Hyde Park

It had been a long summer of just work, so Adriana had been exhausted. With everything. She wasn't even sure if the head she carried on her shoulders was even her own. So, as she lay in the park, she took out a cigarette and lit it. "What?" It wasn't as if she was breaking the law. "If you've got something to say, might as well."

[spencerberkeley]

@Team Posh. [text]

Spencer: Has anybody seen Cassie? Spencer: I can't find her.

[spencerberkeley]

It was good to see the Acton cousin was so keen to join in. If it had been Cassandra, he didn't doubt for a second they'd have been greeted with a sneer of disgust as she went off in search of more alcohol. The sight of her face planted in a Vixen's tits sure made him make a mental note that he should invite her out more often, though.

The dare for him was relatively tame, considering the waitress passing by had worked for his family for years, and they'd done much worse.

And she'd been so down to play along that even after he'd done the line straight off of her exposed clavicle, much to her apparent enjoyment, Laurent had been the one to take a hold of her wrist and encourage her to join them for the rest of the game. It wasn't as if she could get in trouble when Spencer Berkeley was right there. Wiping at his nose with one arm, he used the other hand to spin the bottle once more.

Sofie Dekker.

"Lose the dress. It'll make it easier when you head over to the bar to get us another bottle of Krug. The trick is, you've got to somehow get it for free."

@sofiedekker

Sofie just smirked. "Sounds like my kind of game. Who wants to talk when there are so many better things we could be doing instead?" She was definitely slipping into work mode, but who didn't love a Vixen at a party? With one hand she reached for a shot while she spun the bottle with the other. Throwing back the shot, she grabbed another and held it out to the person the bottle landed on. "I dare you, to do a body shot off of me."

@laurent--stpierre

[spencerberkeley]

@mobscene-starters Time: After Party.

It hadn't taken him long to polish off the bottle of Krug. Who needed a glass?

The thing came in handy when one of the Vixens who'd been sat at their table suggested they use it for a game of spin the bottle, though. Rescuing it from his drunk hands, she placed it down on the table top with a mischievous grin at all those who'd gathered around. What could go wrong? Spencer reached out for one of the glasses (that the waitress so dutifully kept replenishing) and threw back the shot of what he assumed was vodka. Hopefully.

"It's truth or dare, baby, but the twist is you can only pick dare."

[spencerberkeley]

Spencer Berkeley attends The London Awards @ The Royal Albert Hall. Date: Friday, March 22nd, 2024. Escorting: Alexis Larsson. Wearing: I'm gonna go ahead and assume that's Dolce & Gabbana.

[spencerberkeley]

Smash or pass + Yvonne

Smash.

[spencerberkeley]

@alexislarsson Event: Valentine's Day Auction. Time: After Party.

"I get the feeling I'm in trouble... Though I would just like to offer my defence in advance and say that honestly? I would rather be on a date with Laurent than me. You get to see me all the time. Lame. I've basically done you a favour."

[spencerberkeley]

"Well look who the fuck it is. She doesn't write, she doesn't call..."

And honestly, over years of friendship, he'd learnt sometimes it was better not to ask.

That didn't mean he hadn't missed her, though; certainly more so than he would ever admit aloud. Perhaps that was why in spite of his attempt at seeming irritated by being slighted, a smile crept onto his face soon after. Spencer wasn't sure how she knew Laurent, but given that she'd kept him coked up for most of his time at university, he was going to run with the assumption that she was doing the same for him these days.

"Hey, don't rag on Philippe, he's doing his best." Though he couldn't help but laugh as the man in question quickly excused himself to the bathroom at the woman's callout. As the politician reached for his shot, he raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Look, his partner is best friends with my partner, so we're just doing the adult thing and teaming up against them before they team up against us."

Elaina had just caught Laurent, giving him a quick kiss before he pushed her towards the table so he could do his own thing. Usual of him and it wasn't that she minded at all.

"Hello, boys." She smirked as she sat down, taking one of the plated with some lines racked up and snorting one quickly. "I needed this." Before, she never used to do much of these things at all, but her life had become so unpredictable, so fucking annoying that at parties like these - it was literally a fuck it moment. Back in London, she'd be fine again, for her niece, but here? Oh, the party was on.

"Are you sure the rest of them are up to the part? One of them has snot down his face." She frowned in disgust before turning her head back to Spencer. "Also, you and Laurent? Am I dreaming? I think this might just turn out to be a nightmare."

[spencerberkeley]

"You sound like Cassie right now."

Then again, the only thing he could imagine worse was said blonde and his partner ripping him to shreds later for finding out his hospitality toward their friend extended to hard drugs. Maybe she was doing him a favour. Maybe. So he shrugged, placated, and pushed one of the shots in the middle of the table (he no longer had any idea of the content, just that they kept appearing without prompt) toward her.

There was nothing he loved more in the world than his children, but it would be a lie to say that a new baby didn't take a toll on his penchant for enjoying himself. Spencer wouldn't trade the sacrifice for the world, but it did mean he had a tendency to go extra hard when he finally had a weekend where he didn't have to worry about them. If he remembered much of tonight, he'd consider it a failure.

"I hope your man knows I'm enlisting him to throw my 40th birthday party."

"Rude." Yet, Leyla shoo'ed one of the Frenchmen whose seat she was aiming for. Whilst she was always open to try new things and adrenaline was really one of her favourite things to experience, drugs had never made it on the list. Even if Laurent was definitely prone to the lot of them. If anything, at least one of them had to stay sober enough. Though it wasn't as if she was going to be sober by any means.

"I come with a proposition." She grinned at Spencer, who in the last year had really become one of her favourite people. Perhaps it was because he reminded her of someone, but who? She could never put two and two together. "How about instead of lines, I take shots? Because, honestly? I'm amazing just the way I am."

[spencerberkeley]

@mobscene-starters Location: Vixen, Launceston. Dated: New Year's Eve.

At first, he'd despised him. Now Spencer and Laurent were practically inseparable.

Cassie kept telling him it was because they were the same fucking person, and sometimes he did question if they'd been separated at birth (before remembering he was French and being visibly disgusted by the notion) but the politician had since decided she was just jealous she wasn't his favourite bitch anymore. Almost the entire table was made up of other Frenchmen, which certainly wasn't his ideal way to spend any night, but at least they were all on the same wavelength. Spencer couldn't honestly say he wasn't enjoying himself.

Laurent had gotten up to go play at being the hostess with the mostest, and as though somebody was just waiting for a free seat to open up, Spencer greeted them in an enthusiastically and slightly slurred fashion.

"If you're not planning on doing a line, you can't sit with us. This is, in fact, the fun table, and I won't have it ruined."

[spencerberkeley]

7 Bedroom House | St. John’s Wood, Westminster | £27,500,000 You’ll have to click here for more, because it’s too long to post.

The property was a wedding present from his parents. They gutted the whole thing when they moved in and Evelyn was in charge of renovation and interior design. It’s why he made sure to keep it after the divorce, because even though it doesn’t much feel like home without his wife and kids, he’s never not a petty asshole.

It has seven bedrooms; one each for his children that are pictured, as is the master suite with a massive walk in dressing room. One of the bedrooms was made into a play room for the kids. One kitchen/diner, a separate formal dining room, three reception rooms, five bathrooms, a home office, a bar which leads into to the indoor swimming pool for a great entertaining area, a gym, a home theatre, and a games room. Not to mention that fucking garden. Good luck finding one of those. 

[spencerberkeley]

@mobscene-starters Location: His own motherfuckin Hallowe'en party, bitch.

"Having fun? No? Try the fucking Taco Bell."

[spencerberkeley]

@BerkeleyMP: 🎃

[spencerberkeley]

@amescastaignede Location: Smoke & Mirrors. Dated: 30/9/23.

"Wow. Well, fuck me, I guess..."

So far as party atmospheres went, Smoke & Mirrors, on the rare occasions he actually visited, wasn't exactly the wildest spot in the city. It seemed as though two men had the intention of escalating things in all the wrong ways this time, however, and the poor brunette who'd been sent hurtling his way was the collateral. Well, that and his second shot of vodka. Spencer knew which he cared about more. When he was sure she was on her feet and not noticeably hurt, even if shaken up, he shot her a pointed look. It was much harder to get obliterated if he was wearing his drink.

At least he still had one shot left...

"Looks like the next round is on you."