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Le sous-sol [M] (Solstice)

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Offline Reconditea

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   The floor-to-ceiling windows let in the dying light of the parisian day, and Jared made only a perfunctory attempt at modesty-- certainly those in neighbor towers might have been able to see into his large suite, but the thought didn't even occur to him.
   The hotel he was set up in for the week was on the sixteenth floor, giving an expansive view of the city stretched out below. His family being a continent away was a balm to his restless nature, and if there was one place that you could be said to shrug off all of your cares... Paris.

   His room was, in a word, plush, and he luxuriated in the feeling of the thick carpet beneath his bare feet. If not for the silken softness of his bed, he could have just as easily slept on the ground. Not that he would, however pleasing it would have been. For his brief vacation, his luggage was minimal, just the boxy frames of his rolling luggage, all five of them stacked away neatly in the corner by a helpful attendant. With his clothing unpacked into the large dresser, he crossed his legs and let his hair dry naturally from the shower.

   With night coming on, it was a golden opportunity to explore the local - and exotic - club scene. No self respecting person of wealth or taste would admit to having an unfamiliarity with anything french, but he couldn't credit himself as having a lick of french to him, as they said. Many years, and more tutors, had failed to give him that linguistic skill. Speaking five other languages never quite made up for that deficit in his dear mother's eyes. Disappointing parents could be a plausible passtime for youth of any generation.

   Many would have been overwhelmed by the variety of choices for evening wear that he brought with him, but if there was one thing his mother had instilled in him, was a keen sense of fashion. For the supernatural, dive bars outnumbered any place with class by an order of magnitude, but there was a local place that came highly recommended to those with a sense of grace, He planned on getting smashed. Combing his dark shoulder length hair took more time than getting his tailored - and yet, casual - suit. Jared actually hesitated before putting his watch on, the wisdom of wearing his watch, or his families ring, proved tenuous at best, but he felt it completed his look. That's what was important.

   No matter how high class your building was, an elevator took time to travel down sixteen floors, so he took the time to breath deeply. In many ways, his exquisite clothing was just another in a long list of potential armors against others and the world outside of his control. If anything, that was an abnormality in his family that he cared as little about controlling the outside world as he did.
  His cab driver to the club was amiable enough, chatting companionably in Italian, and suggesting several places that Jared kept in mind for later visitation.

   Jared had no issue getting inside the club, Le sous-sol's clientele was exclusive enough to keep out the poorer of the supernatural community, but its doors were open to anyone else. Anyone except normal humans, that was. The light inside was subdued, the music foreign - and french - to him, and the natural flow of bodies brought him to the bar quicker than he would have liked. Getting smashed? Absolutely on the menu, being able to read the actual menu behind the three bartenders? Not a chance. Despite his best efforts, Jared looked a little lost, as he briefly fended off the bartender's french inquiry.


Offline Solstice

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{[Hiii please still love me even though this is terribly and terribly late <333 Hopefully I will remember how to do post things more quickly.

Sous-Sol was precisely the kind of place that attracted the sort of people he was trying to meet. Supernatural if not immortal, moneyed, powerful—all such very charming qualities to have in one's friends.

Unfortunately, not everyone was fully on board with his idea of where that line of 'friendship' should be drawn.

Benoit was wandering his direction. Gabriel took a hard left toward the bar before he was spotted. Sitting in the same booth, drinking the same scotch, dodging those same wandering hands night after night had grown beyond tiresome. If the other vampire wasn't willing to accept the type of companionship he was offering, it was time to move on. He did not look forward to the drawn out goodbye, the piles of flowers left to wither, the gifts he'd have to send back.

Not that he knew entirely for certain how Benoit would react, but he was one of a type—all melodrama and tantrums. He really never should have gotten involved, but he had such a terrible weak spot for anyone willing to take him shopping at Chaumet.

What he needed most at the moment was someone to make him look busy, preferably of the tolerable type. His eyes roamed over the patrons approaching the bar, hoping for a familiar face. No luck. He turned his attention to people already seated at the counter, and caught a few lines of English.

He sized him up in an instant. The clothes, the watch, the ring. Werewolf—that was risky. In a place like this, though, which suggested that he'd be willing to overlook their species' innate desire to destroy each other. And if not, well, he'd be on his way before Sous-Sol's security would need to intervene.

Gabriel had just started his approach when the young man moved his hand and caught sight  of the Mulhoen family ring he was wearing. He wasn't certain if that was reassuring or not, power and wealth could just as easily breed entitlement and poor tempers as it could sophistication. Nothing he hadn't been able to mange before, and he was confident enough he could do it again.

“Oh no, an American werewolf in Par-iss,” he said with an easy smile, pushing hard for the hissing sound on the end of an Anglophone's pronunciation. Gabriel left a stool between them as he perched on the edge of his, shoulders towards the werewolf with his arm resting on the bar. He turned his head to the bartender, repeated Jared's order in smooth French and briefly held up two fingers.

He stayed on the edge of the stool, half seated, easily able to slide away into the crowd if the werewolf didn't really want to talk.

“Are you just visiting?” Gabriel asked as the drinks arrived. He pushed the second glass the rest of the way across the bar to Jared.