The One Night Stand || Open - Printable Version
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RE: The One Night Stand || Open - megs - 10-12-2016
“A whole penny,” she emphasized back to him. Slowly drawing out the phrase as if it were a particularly enticing and limited time offer. Rylan smiled, but it was quickly hidden by the glass as she downed the whisky she had poured into it like a shot. He had pretty eyes, she noted, but didn’t look at them for long, her own eyes dropping to the glass she was already working on refilling. The second glass was downed just as easily as she apparently had no sense of pacing. Another refill, but this time she turned one of his shot glasses right side up and filled it as well. “I don’t actually have any pennies,” she admitted, grinning, eyes finally meeting his again. She screwed the cap back on the bottle. She could feel his eyes on the collar around her throat, her ears swept her hair as she tried to ignore it. People always looked at it, some even commented like it was their business.
Rylan couldn’t help but snort a laugh at his compliment. “Hardly a threat,” she replied, looking down at her lap and patting pockets for her cigarettes. All that time he had spent convincing her that she was beautiful seemed to have been lost with her memories of him. Too short, too curved, too marred. The disapproving looks at court and the scornful words of her mother shaping the opinion she had of herself.
Setting the green box and a weathered Zippo on the table, she didn’t light up, only sipped the third glass much more slowly, as if she planned on finally enjoying the flavor. “Just this one,” she said to his question about her popping habits. “This is my booth, Lieutenant General.” She used her free hand to gesture at the table, there was nothing there to express that it belonged to her, but she attempted to lay claim on it anyway. “But I don’t mind sharing.”
Who would? He was nice to look at and charming to boot. Even if looking at him for too long put a knot in her stomach that she couldn’t explain. A vague sense of familiarity, something she knew in those eyes and those hands. But she didn’t know him, and she was sure the feeling would pass.
RE: The One Night Stand || Open - saronym - 10-13-2016
Owen seemed to consider her offer of a penny while he brought his beer to his lips. His tongue darted out to lick at the rim of the bottle before he tilted his head back and finished it off. He tried to keep the worry from his face when she downed the second shot. She seemed so … desperate. But for what, he couldn’t say. He felt the natural urge to protect her that he always had while simultaneously feeling useless in that regard. He had nothing to offer her but his company. He had no way to know if she would accept it. He eyed the shot she’d poured for him. They’d played this game before. A less high stakes version. His fingers twisted the beer bottle around and around while he considered what thought to share. The glass scraped against the table top. “I was thinking about you.” He said at last and felt as if he were grinning at her but his eyes had far too much sadness in them for that expression. “It’s probably a pretty terrible line. But it’s not untrue.” He shrugged she would take the comment as she would. He was curious to see her reaction.
He pulled the shot towards himself with his index finger. He threw it back to finish the drink as she had and set the glass right side up back on the table. If she wanted more thoughts, she would pay as she had before.
“You should learn to take a well meant compliment.” He advised and picked up her lighter. His thumb struck the mechanism, a flame appeared like magic, and just like that it was gone again with the top snapping back into place at the flick of his finger. He kept the lighter for the time being. If he couldn't touch her, he'd touch her things. Perhaps it would be enough.
Owen frowned and made as if to look over the booth and table carefully. “Well, if this is your booth? Why don’t I see your name written on it? Should I get a pen and write it for you Miss --?” For some reason Owen hoped to hear the name Julianna tumble from her mouth. But he knew better and steeled himself for a name that wasn’t hers.
RE: The One Night Stand || Open - megs - 10-14-2016
A brow slid upwards as he revealed his thoughts. “Is that so?” she mused, green eyes narrowing in playful suspicion. Fingers toyed with another one of his shot glasses. Taking it between index and middle finger she turned it upright, but didn’t fill it. Humming to herself, she turned the remaining glasses over and arranged them in a neat line. “Does that line work for you?” She laughed, but smothered the sound with her glass. “I bet it does. They ladies just fall all over you, don’t they?”Rylan watched him confiscate her lighter, but didn’t try to stop him. She focused on the way he toyed with it. Between the lighter and they bottle he’d been fidgeting with before she wondered if he was nervous. Or just the type of person that needed to do something with his hands. “Compliments only work if they are kind of true,” she explained. Looking away from him, she clawed fingers through her hair, pushing it back towards the crown of her head. The gesture caused her ears to drop and dark waves fell back into place when she put her hand into her lap again.
Amber liquid disappeared from the glass and into her mouth as it tilted back. Licking biting alcohol from her lips, she scooted out of her side of the booth. Swinging around she took a seat next to him, forcing him to move closer to the wall by pushing at him with her hips. Her chest pressed against his bicep with no concern for personal space, and her own arm reached across his chest to point at a spot on the wall. The initials R.S. were written across the paint in black sharpie. “Rylan Sorenson,” she said, pointing to each letter. “My initials, my booth,” she explained, reaching across the table for her glass and bottle of whisky as if it really were so cut and dry. She seemed content to stay on his side of the table.
“Do you have a name? Or shall I just call you Lieutenant General?” She filled another one of his shots, but kept her hand over it. Keeping it prisoner until he answered her question.
RE: The One Night Stand || Open - saronym - 10-14-2016
Owen’s face remained pleasantly neutral as she mocked his one-liner. He planted an elbow lazily on the table and rested his cheek bone on his knuckles gazing at her blank faced. “I don’t know if the line works. I’ve only used it on you. It appears to be going well enough, I suppose, you tell me.” The mask of neutrality broke when Owen arched a brow in warning at the woman across from him who claimed his compliment was untruthful. “I happen to be a bonafide expert on beautiful women. You don’t seem as experienced as me in the subject so we’ll allow my authority on the matter to stand.”
When she moved to his side of the booth, Owen didn’t allow himself to be easily shifted. The familiar swell of her breast against his arm made his heart pick up. He scooted over just enough to give her room to settle next to him but remain close against his body. The line of their hips and thighs touching and her arm pressed to his.
She was content to move to his side. Fine. He would enjoy the feeling of half of her body along his.
To give her a bit of extra room, Owen draped his arm across the back of the booth behind her, opening up the space where his arm had been. He played with the lighter next to her shoulder, merely opening and closing the lid and spinning it around in his fingers. He watched the movement of the lighter over the top of her head. His eyes passed over locks of dark waves crowning her head. He felt a very sudden urge to bury his face in her hair and envelop her in his arms. Instead, the lighter disappeared into his palm as he closed his hand in a tight fist around it. He seemed content to keep it for good. Perhaps he’d give it back if she asked nicely. Perhaps not.
His eyes followed where she pointed. Rylan. She was back to using the name she’d first given him long ago. It seemed appropriate for another initial meeting. Although, she would always be Julianna to him.
Without answering the question of his name, Owen leaned towards Rylan to make it easier to get his hand down his jeans pocket. He pulled out the car keys and used the ‘Vette starter to hastily scrape 'O.H.' into the paint next to her initials. The ‘O’ of his name overlapped the ‘S’ of hers somewhat. The end of the ‘S’ seeming to hook the ‘O.’
“Owen Hart.” He translated. “A name you shouldn’t forget. And now it's my booth too. I'm sure you don't mind with the way you seem to be 'falling all over' me.” He playfully threw her own words back at her.
Owen worked to make the shape of his initials more solid and when he was satisfied the keys disappeared back into his pocket. He settled back again and stared down at the woman next to him waiting to be authorized to take his shot. And to see if she’d demand any more information of him.
He’d tell her whatever she wanted to hear.
RE: The One Night Stand || Open - megs - 10-15-2016
Rylan seemed entirely too comfortable, settled against him. She moved to occupy the space he had made for her, as if getting her close had been his intention. Regardless, she liked the way she fit perfectly against him, like she belonged there. He was warm and solid and something about that was comforting to her. “What makes you think I’m not an expert on beautiful women?” she challenged. He didn’t know her, didn’t know her preferences, but was content to assume. Her tail twitched in the seat next to her. She didn’t pay his insistence on her looks any mind. He had been drinking and drinking men found most women beautiful. Especially if it got them laid. She adjusted her position, but just barely to make it easier for him to get to his pocket. His face ended up very close to hers for a moment and she could smell soap and sweat on him over the sharp scent of the bar. Her eyes narrowed as he scratched his name into the paint beside hers, not looking entirely pleased about being co-owner of the booth.
Rylan snorted a short laugh when he advised she not forget his name. A half-roll of bright eyes when he pointed out her closeness, but she still didn’t move. “Well, Owen,” she drew his name out slowly, lips forming a perfect circle around the ‘O’, her tongue very clearly pressing to her palate on the ‘N’. “It’s nice to meet you.” She pushed the shot he had earned in his direction, before moving to fill another along with her empty glass.
“What have you been thinking about me?” She appeared to have made a game out of asking him questions in exchange for liquor. Everything was always a game with them.
RE: The One Night Stand || Open - Kat - 10-15-2016
Taiga had offered the briefest of waves toward Owen's back when he sauntered off, left with Aisling at the table while her attention juggled between her phone and the bar proper. At some point, Rylan had come in, though the Fae didn't peek at the party in the corner booth to keep tabs. For all intents and purposes, Taiga was struggling to keep her presence grounded in the moment, her thoughts flighty and easily distracted by other topics. Personal topics. Her lashes flickered, brows knitting when the fortune teller spoke, which caused the Fae to snap out of her stupor momentarily to look up and respond. "Huh?" Pausing, she realized she wasn't being entirely responsive, which must have been a red flag for Aisling to follow; Taiga had a habit of rambling. A quiet Taiga seemed out of place, no matter what the circumstances may have been.A lopsided smile crossed her lips at the thought. "Things have been better." It wasn't entirely truthful, but the Fae didn't know just how she could broach the subject of her deceased sibling. Aisling knew of her sisters, her brothers, her home. Some she had met in the bar over the years, while others were stories Taiga told during coffee dates and walks through the park. Nothing about Taiga was secretive, save for what she did when she was in the company of her charge, but that was mostly out of respect for Nic. After all, if she had someone tagging along on her adventures through the modern world, she wouldn't want them to exploit said adventures without her consent. Besides, as far as Nic went, his life was remarkably dull for a creature of legend. Aisling wouldn't have been impressed with how bland Taiga's work stories were, so the topic received very little traction.
Trying to rid herself of the weight, Taiga pushed her phone across the surface of the wooden tabletop and took a deep breathe in a meager attempt to calm her nerves. Aisling's hand against her arm helped, but the uneasy sensation bouncing around her midsection was really taking a toll on the Fae's demeanor. Her face wore a mask of complacency, but her eyes threatened to shed unbecoming tears. "Des is dead." Just like that, the walls started to crumble, and Taiga's free hand shot up in a bid to cover her crying features. She didn't dare breath so not to sob, nor did she set her sights on the other woman, knowing the aura of despair she carried then was overwhelming enough without a teary gaze tied into the mix. In that moment, something inside Taiga screamed - the weight of her heart dragging the rest of her emotional well being into the gutter.
"I-it's that Vereaux bitch's fault-" Growling, it was the best she could do to avoid sniffling. Taiga hated when she sniffled, hating more that she was crying in the first place. For the time being, everything seemed to earn a modicum or two of hatred. The location, the situation, the logic behind her loss. It was all so agonizingly despicable and there seemed no easy fix.
RE: The One Night Stand || Open - saronym - 10-22-2016
Owen laughed an open throaty sound as she took offense to his presumption of her sexual preferences. “Well, if you were an expert on beautiful women, you wouldn’t push back on my complimenting you, now would you?” He said this with enough bite to suggest that he was done defending his opinion of her beauty for the moment. She could take his compliment or leave it. She seemed intent upon leaving it. He pulled the shot towards him with his index finger, amber liquid lapped at the digit hooked over the rim of the small glass. Leaving the shot on the table for the moment, Owen lifted his finger and licked the liquid off of it.
With a shake of his head, Owen declined to answer her question. “I’ve told you my thoughts on you and they obviously make you uncomfortable.” He said, still sour she hadn’t just gracefully accepted his opinion on her looks. “Why don’t you tell me something?”
He confiscated the shot she had poured for herself and lined it up next to his. He put his hand over both glasses showing her that he meant for her to earn the drink as he had. Never mind that she had the bottle and could just pour herself another if she so choose. She’d either play along with her own game or she wouldn’t.
Owen was beginning to realize that he was more and more at her mercy in this encounter. As he would be if and when he tried to explain who he was to her. She would either stay to listen or she wouldn't. She would either run or she wouldn't. She would accept the truth or she wouldn't. There was very little he had to offer up to her. This had always been the case. She had always been a woman who could have anything she wanted whenever she wanted and all he could ever hope to offer her was himself free for the taking. He had somehow been enough for her before. Perhaps it would still hold true.
“What are you looking for at the One Night Stand?” The name of the establishment tumbled off his lips with obvious judgment. “Your husband, maybe?”
She likely wouldn’t get the double speak, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t use it and watch her trying to figure him out.
RE: The One Night Stand || Open - megs - 10-22-2016
“Hey,” she verbally protested as he took the shot from her. It was true, she did have the bottle, but it would be unfair for her to cheat at her own game, she decided. She had been content to subject him to her whims, and it would be pretty shitty of her not to do the same. Screwing the cap back on the nearly diminished container, she pushed it aside and turned her head to look at him. Her bottom lip jutted forward in pout, not much of a fan of talking about herself. Though she did laugh at his question, settling into the booth and leaning the back of her head against the arm he’d placed behind her. She did not adjust her position much more than that, so the length of their thighs still touched. “I’m not looking for anything,” she explained, one of her hands disappearing into the shadow cast across the booth from the table. One of the shots he had been content to keep away from her was easily taken thanks to the shadow of his hand. She downed the smooth whisky like she had actually earned it.
She seemed more content to using her powers than she had in the past. Once upon a time when she had known this man she would often go out of her way to avoid using them. She would ask for his help, she would ride in cars, but that was no longer the case. Utilizing her shadow abilities had been an acknowledgement that she found the demon useful. That had once upon time been something she had wanted to avoid. She didn’t care about that now.
“Well, except alcohol, obviously. And I guess the occasional one night stand, if I’m feeling adventurous.” She cocked her head as if in thought, ears falling to either side as she used one hand to pull her hair over the shoulder furthest away from him.
“I think I’m feeling a little adventurous,” she concluded, with a veiled sense of suggestion. One hand lifted to tap his fingers, still holding tight to her lighter like he was attempting to take it for his own. She appeared to be reclaiming her ownership of the object.
RE: The One Night Stand || Open - saronym - 10-23-2016
Motionless at the display of her powers, Owen kind of glared down at his booth mate who unfairly stole the shot from him. Reaping what she hadn’t sewn. He made no show of surprise or awe when she made a demonstration of her abilities as if he’d seen it a dozen times before. Because he had. Whether he should have feigned shock in preservation of the ruse he didn’t know. Perhaps she wouldn’t care that he was unfazed by her shadowplay. Maybe she would find his demonstration of being unflappable, so to speak, in front of her more attractive. Maybe she wouldn’t notice.
He was too busy watching the way dark waves cascaded back when she leaned to take the shot to worry that she might become suspicious of him. His hand moved away leaving his shot untaken on the table. He pushed at it disinterestedly with his index finger. He stared blankly at the drink and tried not to think about how soft her hair felt on his arm. How familiar her body next to his.
A sort of nausea washed over him as she admitted to the ‘occasional’ casual sexual encounter. He wondered what her definition of occasional was. He didn’t want to know. She, in her current state, wasn’t really his to be jealous for, or possessive of, anyway. Better not to think of it. He wondered if anyone made her happy. Owen took his own shot then to drown the emotions that bubbled up. To shut out images of hands that weren’t his on her hips and in her hair. He couldn’t bear it. He was beginning to think he would have to take her home that night just to ensure someone else didn’t.
Since the rules for their drinking game were ruined, Owen snagged the bottle from the table for himself. She was pushing at his fingers and he opened his hand offering the lighter she seemed to want. She could have anything she wanted if she just asked him. She didn't seem to want to let him have anything of hers. He knew he couldn't keep what she didn't want him to take.
“You don’t seem so open to the idea of having a husband, I see. I suppose you find everything you need at the bottom of a bottle and in some stranger's arms.” His observations were made with no judgment in his voice. Almost a statement of fact. A confirmation of his worst fears. “I get that.” He admitted, because it was true. He couldn't blame her.
The hand freed of the lighter moved closer to wrap fingers around silky strands of hair. He pulled gently at her hair curled around his index and middle to the ends of the strands and released them only to gather the hair anew and repeat the process. It was the only sign he gave that he might be interested in her proposition.
“So are you implying that you want me to take you home?”
Owen unscrewed the bottle and didn’t wait for her response before he finished off the whisky. She wouldn’t be rewarded for the truth anymore. She would give it freely or not at all.
The empty bottle landed against the table with an aggressive clink. Owen wiped excess whisky from his lips with his thumb. His ears were ringing with the heavy buzz that had settled in and he was quickly on his way to intoxicated when that last bit of whisky poisoned his blood.
RE: The One Night Stand || Open - megs - 10-23-2016
She was, secretly, disappointed when he didn’t seem impressed by her abilities. Making things disappear and reappear usually got more of a reaction and was one of her favorite party tricks, so to speak. No reaction when she’d phased into the booth, no reaction when she’d stolen her unearned prize. Like he had seen it done before, but Rylan didn’t know of anyone who could do what she did. Not in the same way. 'I was thinking about you,' he’d said, but he couldn’t have been serious? Rylan was beginning to doubt her belief that his man didn’t know her. She tried to push the thought away. He didn't know her; it was just a line he used to pick up women. Though nothing explained why he seemed sad, and somehow, the smallest bit annoyed by her. She had gone quiet, eyes flickering across the empty shot glass she turned in small circles with her fingertips.
She was reminded of the holes in her memory. The ones that she usually ignored that were inexplicably empty. Owen talked to her like he knew her, perhaps she should give him the benefit, instead of continuing to run away from things that scared her.
Rylan didn't ask why he was so caught up on husbands, but she laughed as he spoke, like his words had been intended as a joke. “I’ve never taken anyone home from this bar,” she admitted, turning the lighter she’d retrieved in her fingers. The alcoholism she didn’t try to deny. She had in fact seen the bottom of many bottles. “I was just messing with you.” Lifting the slightest bit from the seat, her tail curled as she leaned across the table to bring her cigarettes closer. Pulling one out, she settled it on her lips and lit it with a flick of the Zippo without question or care that her boothmate would be displeased.
She blew smoke away from him, unperturbed by the hands in her hair. Something about the rhythm was familiar. Rylan let him take the bottle without protest, though her brows disappeared behind her bangs when he emptied the bottle. She pursed her lips, as if disappointed when it met the table with a dull clink. “There’s a first time for everything,” she replied, smoke trailing her words. She tapped ash into the tray.
“But first, you get to tell me why you talk to me like you know me.”
RE: The One Night Stand || Open - saronym - 10-23-2016
Owen’s fingers continued their ritualistic movements in her hair. He laughed almost derisively when she claimed she had never taken anyone home from that bar before. He didn’t know whether he believed her. Perhaps she changed her story to seem more appealing. Some men would be turned off by a sexually aggressive woman. He wasn’t. He wouldn’t allow himself to feel any relief by her claims because he’d already steeled himself that it was true. It was easier to believe the worst than to reopen himself up for further disappointment and hurt.
The cigarette didn’t bother him. He watched the way her mouth closed over the end of it and the sharpened angle of her jaw when she turned her head away considerate not to blow smoke at him.
“I don’t mind being a first time,” He mused. His fingers paused momentarily as he considered the prospect of going home with her. The alcohol was clouding his judgment. “But I’m not interested in being a simultaneous first and last. If that makes any sense.” He wasn’t interested in a one night stand. It would be kind of hard to have a one night stand with someone you’d slept with hundreds of times.
Owen’s hand moved from her hair. His arm curled further around her shoulders to allow his fingers access to her face. He pushed at her chin to force her face towards his with a firm touch. She was asking for the truth.
“Maybe I was just messing with you.” He lied employing her line against her. A devious smile curled his lips and an eyebrow arched. Their faces were close enough for him to smell the liquor on her breath. His eyes trailed down to full lips and he let his mouth graze across hers unable to stop himself. His thumb brushed along her jaw. Only a taste and he pulled away again. The alcohol that lingered on her lips burned on his.
“You don’t seem keen on the truth.”
RE: The One Night Stand || Open - megs - 10-23-2016
Rylan considered his words, puffing on the cigarette as he continued to play with her hair. An ambitious proposal on his part. Resigning himself to be the last person she slept with, as if he was already invested in being in a relationship with her. Or perhaps she was thinking to loftily. It wasn’t the surprising, she guessed, as he claimed to know her. He certainly touched her like he knew her. “You might want to settle for a test drive before you sign yourself up to buy the whole thing,” she said, jokingly, blowing smoke again just as his fingers pressed against her chin. At his gentle insistence she turned her face and looked up at him. Green eyes scanned his face for the answers he was refusing to give her now. “Were you?” She challenged. “That’s unfortunate. It was working for you." The idea that his words had indeed just been a pick up line bothered her, inexplicably. She realized now that she wanted him to know her, she wanted him to have the answers to her questions.
The cigarette was abandoned to smolder in the ashtray as his lips whispered across hers. Her body responded to the brief touch as if it knew something she didn’t. As if her lips knew that he kissed her a thousands times, and her skin knew he had touched her even more than that. His lips were electric against hers, the thumb that stroked her jaw somehow hot and cold at the same time.
She seemed to take his bold move as an initiation. He’d barely pulled away before she sat up straighter to kiss him again. The pressure of her mouth was stronger than his had been and there was something hungry and desperate in the way she moved impossibly closer to him. She sighed against his mouth, one of her hands lifted to rest against the side of his neck.
Rylan pulled away from him, licking away the alcohol she had reclaimed from his lips. Her hand fell from his neck, smoothing over his chest before returning to her lap. “Try me,” she offered. “I might be more keen than I’ve led you to believe.”
RE: The One Night Stand || Open - saronym - 10-24-2016
Owen blew air out of his nose sharply. Not quite a snort. Not quite a sigh. But somewhere in between. He looked up at the ceiling, not quite rolling his eyes but almost. She was suggesting he test drive her now. “No sales person in their right mind would let me just have a test drive. For one, I have a bad habit of not returning the merchandise. And if I did return it, it wouldn’t be in any condition for sale to someone else.” A quick flash of his eyebrows and a cocky smile. He could talk a big game if she wanted him to. He was taken aback when she reclaimed his mouth. His free hand moved to the back of her neck and the other dropped to her shoulder. He pushed urgently against the back of her shoulder to shove her body up against his. When her face started to pull away, his hands held firm for a brief moment not wanting to let her go. His mouth was greedy for hers still as if he’d been starved for her affection. The moment passed and finally he relaxed letting her pull back from him.
Looking away from her eyes, he watched her hand move down the front of him and fall away again. “See what happens when I try to test drive?” He returned his gaze to hers again and smirked victoriously as if her insistent kiss had been proof enough that her earlier suggestion wouldn’t work for them. It would be she who couldn't settle for just a test drive.
She was emphatic that she wanted the truth. He was encouraged by her recent assertive touch. He rotated his torso to face her somewhat more directly. His arm remained around her shoulders and his hand cupped the top of her arm. He was determined to keep touching her until the night was over.
He had the words in his head. Julianna, I am your husband. His heart was pounding loud in his ears. He had this whole speech in his head with all the facts laid out in that logical and orderly fashion. It washed away under a wave of fear.
“You may not have been looking for a husband tonight, but you did find your husband." Instead a game of semantics came out of his mouth. Perhaps it was better if he prodded her into interrogating what he knew to be empty spaces in her mind.
“So, you see, this ‘test drive’ metaphor is particularly ludicrous because it is literally impossible for me to test drive my own wife.” Without realizing it, Owen had retreated into sarcasm as a coping mechanism. Clinging to that bit of irony put a distance between himself and the anxiety of revealing the truth to this woman who he was certain would disappear into a shadow at any moment.
RE: The One Night Stand || Open - megs - 10-24-2016
He had taken her analogy and sort of run away with it. Rylan wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be concerned or flattered by his remarks. Brows disappeared behind her bangs and she looked slightly stunned beneath the weight of his cocky smile. “I will… take that as a compliment,” she decided, eyes dancing over the empty glasses on the table. The bottle was empty as well. She wished it wasn’t. She couldn’t remember having ever been kissed like that before. Like he was suffocating and she was the oxygen he needed to survive. The moment had left her breathless, like he had indeed taken the very air from her lungs. He continued to hold her when they’d separated and she was not put off by the continued contact. When he smirked at her, she did so as well, but hers was not nearly so triumphant. A gentle curl meant to acquiesce to his obvious victory.
Rylan’s ear swiveled backwards when he suggested that she had found her husband.They returned to attention when he referred to her as his wife. Her face went entirely neutral as she looked up at him, and she was quiet for a long time. A very, noticeably long amount of time in which she just stared back at him.
Undeniably there were parts of him that seemed familiar. His blonde hair and grey eyes and the way he used sarcasm as a defense reminded her of Cain. His poker face and need to have the last word reminded her of Anita. And if she was ever honest with herself, she didn't remember who their father was. He touched her like he was sure she would approve of the contact, easily avoiding places she didn't like to be touched. His hand had pressed against her right shoulder, not her left, but that could have been a coincidence.
Her head tilted, but she still didn't respond, just continued to look at him as she took the time to sort through her own thoughts. She tried to place him into the obvious holes in her memory, like a child trying to figure out which shapes fit in which section of a game. Testing to see if it could be him.
"Julianna," he sounded surprised, and the music stopped abruptly, but the man smiled at her. When she reached out to touch his face, he closed his eyes and pressed his pressed his cheek into her hand, prickly from a few days without shaving.
His eyes were blue.
His eyes were grey.
Clearing her throat she looked away from him. She rearranged her position to match his new one, so she could continue to comfortably lean against him. Her head fit perfectly beneath his chin, if she let her ears fall to either side. If he wanted to say he was her husband then fine, he would accommodate her desire to be touched while she asked him a few questions. A hand lifted to reach across the table and idly toy with an empty shot glass.
“You don't call me Rylan," Not a question. "What do you call me?” she asked. An easy one for him to start with.
RE: The One Night Stand || Open - saronym - 10-24-2016
Rylan's silence fell heavily on Owen. He held her gaze wordlessly to give her an opportunity to think and process what he'd told her. He felt himself fiddling mindlessly with a shot glass to give his hand something to do. A tightness in his chest and his heart beat faster. His resolve failed and Owen looked away so he wouldn’t have to watch her disappear when she slinked away into a shadow. His eyes scanned the crowd without really seeing them. The sounds of the bar suddenly became deafening as if he’d just remembered he was in a public place. The whole world had fallen away when he’d focused in on her. The seconds stretched on and she merely settled closer to him as if demanding he continue to prove his claims. He gave her arm a brief squeeze which was meant to be comforting to her and a reassurance for himself that she was still there.
“No I don’t. I never have and I never will.” He said this with a firm resolution. That he would never call her Rylan was non negotiable. Indeed, he hadn't used the name in that encounter with her because he hadn't planned on it. He looked down at the top of her head. “I did call you Miss Drusilla Haven for a time. Miss Haven.” He repeated the name with a nostalgic smile on his lips. Memories cycled back of himself as a young man fumbling around her in those early years never knowing what to do with her. Back then she had gotten under his skin so easily as if he were no challenge for her. As if he hadn’t put up every defense at his disposal to keep her out. She'd just waltzed right in like she owned him. And she did. “But you were always Julianna to me.”
His fingers moved back to her hair, gathering it all and pulling it back over the shoulder away from his side.
“Does it make you uncomfortable to hear me use that name?”