A Grand Entrance [Petrov's]

[attr="class","sya-text"] She had better things to do than watch the going-on’s of her club each and every night. The same music played on a randomized loop, the same dancers performed their same mundane routines, and money fell into her pocket. Rarely did anything change, unless of course she took it upon herself to make drama. Even the employees knew better than to step out of line; the majority of them knew their places, which was under her thumb. The club was running great, according to her bank balance at least, and life was good. The only thing she could use now was a little bit of entertainment.

She reclined in her plush computer chair not far off from the main room, close enough to hear the action but far enough to get away from the ignorant men if she so chose. So far it had worked, until she heard a firm knock on her door. “Ms. Petrov…” A gruff and nervous voice addressed through the door, prompting the woman to lazily cast her eyes over to it. The man on the other side of the door cleared his throat. “I think there’s something that might need your attention.” She rolled her eyes, but dropped her legs from their resting place on the desk. “Give me a minute and I’ll be right out.” She called, smoothing a hand over her dress and grabbing her glass of wine before following the man out.

She was a patient woman through and through, but there was one thing she couldn’t stand and that was filth. Dirt, disorder, or disarray, she was a neat monster. Her club, all the way down to her desk drawer, were the epitome of organization. Slipping around the corner and noting the trash settling on her bar nearly set a flame in the eye of the demonic woman – that was, would have… if she had felt threatened.

She took her place behind the bar and leaned against the back counter, arms crossing over her chest. The man was just searching for attention, help, a fight, who the hell knew, but he was no threat. Satisfied with that thought, and the potential for new entertainment she smirked around a drink of her wine. And, he was even sort of cute… if he hadn’t smelled like a forest. Dallas was a woman that was big on first impressions; they meant the world to her. She usually preferred stranger’s thoughts of her to be of lust, jealousy or perhaps even charisma… but bringing trash into her building? Disrupting her night and her club because a few people had littered? Being cordial was no longer on her agenda.

The man’s speech provoked her eyebrow to raise, and she fixed him with a pointed stare as she gingerly set her wine glass on the counter behind her. “See…You know what I don’t appreciate?” She spoke smoothly, casually, and with all the time in the world. “Someone waltzing up into my establishment and accusing me of something I know nothing about.” Doe eyes flicked upwards to focus on the man, her dark irises already dancing with amusement and the chaos hadn’t even begun yet.

Surely she knew nothing about the particular instance the man referred to, but even so it was not as if she was innocent in any form of the word. Her concern for the environment was lacking terribly – in fact it was probably women like her that had set off global warming in the first place. Though the challenge he had offered her was inspiring nonetheless. “But you know who might,” She continued, “And that’s my brother back there.” The woman turned, gaze raking the club for any sign of her brother. “Ty, darling!” She chirped, probably looking much too pleased at the prospect of a fight, as she turned to search for her dragon of a sidekick.

It was not her voice that alerted him but the sense of need he felt through the empathy link he shared with her. It didn’t take him long to exit his place in the spare room with a young and rather distraught dancer gripped firmly in a hand. With a single movement he released the arm he held and shoved her away, giving her no more than a second glance or a fleck of emotion as he brushed off his pants, casually. “Get back to your post.” He stated simply, before heading back into the main room.

Tyler found his sister quickly and greeted her with a firm kiss on the forehead before settling back into his place behind the bar. “I was interrupted for….?” He grabbed a nearby bottle of whiskey as a second nature and poured himself a glass before bringing it to his lips. The man watched his sister tip her head in the direction of the trash before sighing. You interrupted me for trash?

The telepathic woman narrowed her eyes at her brother after hearing his thoughts. Don’t be so crass. She hissed silently to him, then cleared her throat. “Tyler, would you happen to know anything about this?”

Tyler cast a single glance towards the bag of trash and conceited grin passed over his features. The man’s apathetic gaze trained on the strangers, a look of both knowing and utter amusement. “Never seen it before in my life.” He sipped on his whiskey as he nursed several pleasant memories. He quite liked bringing his prey out into the middle of nowhere. Who knew people actually cleaned those places up?

Dallas sensed her brother’s bullshit a mile away, but stifled her laugh as she turned her attention back to the stranger. “What was the plan here, hmm?” She leaned onto the polished bar surface in front of the male, forearms resting on its cool surface. “You were hoping…. You were going to make a bunch of fuss… And we were going to jump to accommodate you? Sound about right?” She pursed her lip in a mocking pout. “Sorry, you came to the wrong place for that.” She studied him closely and rested her chin in her palm, both intrigued and annoyed. “Now. Care to explain what the hell you’re on about?”

notes; IS THIS ENOUGH FOR YOUR HIGHNESS? xP thisactuallyisn'tevengoodsoz
tag;Connor Grayson
words; toomany. somewhere around 1k.. these two are just fun
muse; 

[attr="class","sya-text"] Dallas had nearly lost interest in the conversation and walked off. She’d made her presence known to him; in her usual and unrivaled way, she’d add, and had said what she needed to say. Anything else was purely white noise to her.

That was, until he showed the badge.

The criminal of a woman felt her muscles run rigid for half a second, as if ice had replaced the scarlet in her veins. An ounce of paranoia, perhaps? Or shock? She never let on. A single and perfectly arched brow raised as the man showed his badge, while Tyler lightly swirled his alcohol around in its glass; seemingly more enthralled in the clinking ice cubes than the strangers claim to power. As defiant as Dallas was towards authority, the sight still caused her to pause. She hated cops, however slight his power. All condescending pricks, they were. Always flaunting their authority and using it to their advantage, no matter if it was called for or not. Sort of like… her?

Obsidian pupils dilated with slight excitement, stretching to swallow her irises whole. The stakes had just raised significantly in the game of life, and his bold nature made this situation even that trickier. She loved a challenge. It was as if she was being taunted, thrown a good hunk of meat, but restrained with a leash. She badly wanted to toy with him, but alas, every fiber of her being told her to move on with life. But then again, she’d never listened to anyone. No, not even her gut instinct.

Perhaps this was the reasoning behind all of her self-satisfying shenanigans. No Jiminy Cricket chirped on this shoulder. Trouble? She lived and breathed trouble, and could track a good piece of drama down like a bloodhound. Therefore, she never avoided it, and because of this she was developing quite the reputation. For him to have ignored that, proved one of two things. He was either prepared to fight, or just damn stupid. Looking at him, she quickly decided the latter.

Waltzing up into their lair and demanding respect after disrupting their evening preparation? She could nearly scoff at the concept. “Now I would certainly hate to be a problem.” She mused, “Wouldn’t you Ty?” The man had taken a sudden and predatory interest in one of the scantily clad women that stalked through the large room. “Hmm?” Dallas rolled her eyes at her brother. Men. She snatched the glass straight out of his hand and sauntered around the bar whilst taking a long sip. She walked with purpose, though hesitation fell into her steps as she neared the stranger. The faintest of hums began in her skull, and with increasing distance began to realize it was not only a hum, but the indistinct mumbles of his thoughts.

She could immediately sense something off about him, something was not quite right about him in the head; too much noise. Although what that was she couldn’t quite tell. Being in his proximity and focusing on his thoughts, simply made her brain throb.

She quickly redirected her attention to avoid the pain, venturing closer rather than retreating. “Trouble… as in, the way you came up in here and got my nice counters all filthy? As in… the way you just became my problem?” Her voice was hushed yet sultry as she focused purely on the stranger. “I do believe there are many in this world who wouldn’t have taken so kindly to that. Luckily I’m a fairly… patient person...”

By this point she stood within two feet of the man. She wrinkled her nose against the scent of the outdoors that followed him around like a cheap cologne. However she found herself quickly more interested in scrutinizing his every feature from her new, shortened distance. “Are you threatening me, ‘officer’?” She tilted her head, noting subconsciously her brother had taken her previous place at the bar. From her peripheral vision she spotted smoke rising from the fables mouth, casually. She smiled to herself, though he was much too protective.

She had the inkling that this man wouldn’t harm a hair on her head; proven by the way he’d moved to help that woman. Dallas had taken note of it; for it had all the potential in the world. The hero types were always fascinating for a conceited beast like herself; and she was more than willing to use his chivalry to her benefit by prodding every little button he had. “The only thing I understand is that you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

It was only now that she addressed the objects for herself. With slender fingers she picked up the matchbook and inspected it absentmindedly. It was from her club, there was no doubt about that, she’d helped design the logo herself. It prided her to see that icon on something so trivial as a book of matches. But she did not recognize this particular one. Curiously the woman pulled a single match from charred book, before lighting it and staring, transfixed on the tiny flame. So, what if a little pyromania ran in the family? Seconds later, she licked her fingertips and used them to snuff out the fire. “Yes, this is ours; clearly. I have to give you credit there detective. Unfortunately we have hundreds of visitors by the week, and giving you the guarantee that this isn’t going to happen again, is just simply, impossible I’m afraid. I have no power over what my ‘patrons’ do.” Now, that’s just bullshit. She stifled a wry smile.


notes; ahaha! this is great
tag; Connor Grayson,
words; 926
muse;