Fantasy CHICAGO | <Always Open!>

[Shame]

Caelia "Angel" Angelucci
West City - Shopping District - Nearby Pub With Prizzy Kriyze ​

"Hey, you'll catch a cold if you stay down there. C'mon."
Angel lifted her eyes to find the gentleman extending his hand down to her. She hesitated, but made to reach for his hand with her own when she saw his smile, then stopped. She had to admit that he had a cute smile, though it was crooked. And, whether it was crooked by the scar that ran across his crooked face or because he really was an unsavory character, she couldn't tell. She did not trust him either way, though really, she didn't trust much of anybody. They all were looking for a way to use her. So, she just had to use them first.
Before she could make up her mind to accept his help, the man closed the distance between them, grabbed her small hand and lifted her to her feet as easily as lifting a doll. He was strong and his hands were rough. He was obviously a working man, definitely unusual for this side of town as she had thought before. She wondered what he did, exactly, and whether his cold hands meant that he was an ice elemental or if the rain had finally soaked into him.
"Th-Thank you," she murmured softly, looking down at the big hand still clasped around her own. This man definitely threw her off her, and she did not like the feeling of not knowing, of not being in control. She wanted to keep an eye on him. It just happened to be a plus that he was an attractive man, as well.
"Careful, it's slippery."
Angel laughed in response. She couldn't help it. He was cute, so unsure and awkward. He reminded her of an animal, probably a dog. However, she was not sure if this dog bit.
"Ah, well... We should get you somewhere warm. I'd offer you my cloak, but it's not exactly..."
Then, despite his hesitation, he held it out to her anyway. She could see why he was so hesitant. It was obviously in disarray, worn and torn, despite it having previously been of higher quality with smooth fur and leather. It ruined his image of well to do, and she knew he did not belong here. Maybe he once did, but not anymore. It was curious, then, that he did give it to her. It shattered his illusion of wealth, but he gave it to her anyway. Maybe he really was a sweet guy.
Angel sighed out loud, annoyed about her uncertainty of the gentleman. She desperately wanted to know who he was.
She accepted the cloak with a smile, wrapping it about herself. It certainly completed her look. Now, she almost matched him with the worn cloak, her torn stockings, her now ruined felt hat, and her soaked clothes. She wondered if she looked like a disgraced woman of the night. Her makeup was probably beginning to smear as well.
"Shall we?" He gestured toward a nearby pub. She smiled in amusement. Such a place was not one she would usually venture in. With a gentle squeeze to the hand that still held her own, she walked with him to it carefully, only slipping slightly, though it was helpful to have him with her for balance. She took one last sweeping glance behind her before she entered and closed the door shut firmly behind them.
The pub was a small one, cozy with low lighting. It was not one usually found in the lower parts of town with cheap drinks and cheaper women.
"I appreciate your help, sir. Could I repay your kindness? Perhaps a Hot Toddy to get warm for now? I will ask if I can use their phone to ring my driver, and you are welcome to accompany me back to my home for a warm bath and fresh clothes," Angel said with a gentle smile up at him. She paused to let her smile falter."Oh, that is rather forward of me, asking a man to go home with me when he doesn't even know my name. Everyone calls me Angel. I truly wish to thank you for helping me if you will allow it."

 

[Prizzy Kriyze]

Zeth Forssa
West City, Shopping District - Shame

She only seemed embarrassed for so long. Her thanks was trembling, stuttering, seemingly doubtful, but when he lowered his hand to let her release her grip she made no attempt to; instead they were in a modicum of what he'd call stuck in transit. Her supposed embarrassment melted away with her laugh when he'd mentioned the obvious, and so did Zeth's. However, she sighed after he offered her the cloak. Though he'd never willingly admit it - not even to himself - it stung a bit of the pride he'd formerly have called his own. Riches used to be his very life, once.

As it came to pass, she didn't say much at all but rather kept her supple hand in his and squeezed when he indicated the pub. He followed her across the street, feeling her weight shift when the ground seemed to bend beneath her heels. Now that she was dressed in his cloak, make up lightly smeared and clothes mostly soaked she looked much more like the people he'd come to recognize. The remark earlier given still rang true though. Zeth supposed that regardless of the regalia a princess was still a princess, a thought that would've made him blush had he not been so cold. So very pretentious.

Still, he'd somehow ended up tugged inside a bar by a beautiful woman on a day that seemed to go exactly like all the others. Life had a strange sense of humor and the ice mage was mostly just here for the ride, but he couldn't help but wonder what was going on. The girl closed the door behind him as he took in the smells of the pub. His usual reaction in a place like this was to retch, but considering it did not smell like urine and God-knows-what it was rather pleasant. Small, warm, cozy. He hadn't been in a place like this for years, but he didn't mind it.

"I appreciate your help, sir. Could I repay your kindness? Perhaps a Hot Toddy to get warm for now? I will ask if I can use their phone to ring my driver, and you are welcome to accompany me back to my home for a warm bath and fresh clothes," His first reaction would've been to tell her she didn't owe him anything, but as her sentence ran on he was more and more taken aback by her proposition. Even the way she worded it felt so alien. Her own chauffeur? Warm bath and fresh clothes? He'd barely even spoken to her, only just given her a hand up from the sidewalk. Of course, maybe she realized his situation and wanted to help the world in her own way, but he'd grown far too cynical to trust that. All of this ran through his head just before she continued. Out of habit and paranoia he turned his head and looked behind him for a second, just to see an empty pub.

"Oh, that is rather forward of me, asking a man to go home with me when he doesn't even know my name. Everyone calls me Angel. I truly wish to thank you for helping me if you will allow it." Her smile had faltered, and with the more serious tone now he noticed a few things about her. She must've been younger than him by a few years, and her immaculate skin must mean she was raised in a good home with healthy habits and what-not. What did she look to gain from this? He trusted his own ability, but this felt uncannily like walking straight into a trap.

Then he met her eyes, and his own smile returned.

"Gee, I..." He paused, then sat down on a barstool. It might've been a product of her outward appearance after all, but he couldn't really let this opportunity go. "I'd politely decline, but... Well, I'm just not in a position to turn down an offer like that." He added with a surprised-sounding chuckle at the end. "Angel? How uh, appropriate." As he mumbled the words he raised a hand over his mouth to scratch the stubble on his cheek. "I'm Zeth*, and I feel like I've done very little to deserve this, Miss Angel."

*As it's Swedish, it's actually pronounced Zett

 

[. D O V E]

There is last refuge for the desperate and abandoned by justice.
Location: a fancy restaurant Downtown
Date: September, 1929
Tag/s: _Line 213

Victoria knows how to read people like an open book, it's something that's very useful for her chosen path after all. So when Marcus' expression turned sour for a brief moment, she knew that something was amiss. She noticed that he kept on glancing outside the window and the look on his face didn't convince her that it's all because of the rain. It seems like he's looking at something or someone but Victoria couldn't tell what it was because of the heavy rain.

"Ah, I'm honored that Chicago Sentinel write about me." she replied while her fingers played with the neck of the wine glass, "Yes, I'm not really acquainted with this part of Chicago but I come here every now and then to perform." she lied smoothly. Actually it was the opposite, she knows every corner of Downtown like she knows the back of her hand. This wouldn't be a good statement though since the man before her probably picks up information quickly and it would be suspicious for a fine woman to roam Downtown without any shady business.

"Mr. McAllister, I noticed that you kept on glancing at the window. Am I keeping you from going somewhere?" she inquired with a cocked brow and a sip of her wine.

 

[_Line 213]

Marcus McAllister
Downtown, restaurant.
Interaction: . D O V E


​

"Actually no, you're not, just uh..." Marcus trailed away for a moment, pursing his lips as he once more glanced to the window. Still no figure. He shook his head, looking back to Victoria, though without that relaxed grin of his.

He waved a hand vaguely, staring past the singer for a moment as he thought of how best to phrase his response. "I don't know how it works with singers or anythin' like that, but you know how sometimes when you're in a job or a profession for long enough and you start developing this, like..." Another wave of the hand. "Kinda like a sixth sense, y'know? As-in y' just feel when things are goin' wrong, or when something isn't the way that it should be." Another quick glance to the window, and he pursed his lips. He leaned forward slowly, sparing a glance towards one of the waiters, before looking back to Victoria.

"...Gonna be straight with ya, miss. Someone's been lookin' through that window for a while, standin' out there in the rain, coat and all, and then a little while ago they up and disppeared, just like that. Are you bein' followed by anybody?"