lavendre
◌ 𝘁𝗿𝗲𝘁𝗲 𝗱𝗼𝘂𝘀 ◌
Just moments after Veronica had taken her final shot, she felt a draft of air pass by her quickly. She turned around, in her slightly oblivious haze, to see Savannah's friend, Roxie, going to meet one of the Porter sons. She knew who the young man was, of course. Veronica had certainly driven him several times upon instruction, but those times were few and far between. Besides, after so many times of referring to him as "Mr. Porter", she barely remembered his actual name.
It started with an S, but that's all she knew.
Not too long afterward - 10 minutes or so - Veronica's sense began to dull just a bit, and she began to feel tipsy and she was overcome with a sense of slight fatigue. She already knew this was an unfortunate effect of all the alcohol she had just consumed. She made an effort to stay awake, to fight it, hoping that she wouldn't be too distracted to respond to a bad situation. Thankfully, such intoxication didn't have to heavy of an effect on her in the past, and she was confident that in the face of danger, she would react swiftly. She was high-functioning and it barely affected her persona or abilities - at least, that's how she thought of herself.
It soon became clear that this thought was, at least, a bit of a stretch.
In a split second, Veronica realized something - she was just standing there in deep, intoxicated contemplation. And the funny thing was. . . she wasn't even thinking about anything. Or at least Veronica could no longer remember what she was pondering about. She was so far gone that she did not realize when Savannah had returned, and the young girl quietly apologized while remarking that she wasn't obligated to drink. The girl had probably been around for a good five minutes, and rather than adding to the apologies with a remark about how she was just staring into space 10 seconds ago, she nodded quietly.
She smiled at her words regarding her work and let out a small, hushed chuckle at the young lady's mention of the men at the party. It was rather cute that Savannah had regarded her feelings and even mentioned guys. The Brazilian woman turned her gaze to the party and her smile grew wider, as if Savannah was a naive and adorable little girl. As far as she knew, in her line of work, Veronica barely had time for men. Not only would they be at risk due to her involvement within the mob, but she also didn't have much time in general. The Porters were certainly gracious to her, providing her with good money and welcoming her, but she worked practically seven days a week. She didn't have a problem with it, but because of it, she had to cut off communication with her own parents. It was a decision that brought her anguish and her grin was faltering, but at this time, she need not think about such a thing.
"I'm not really the flirty type. And besides, men are too much work, and I have enough to deal with already," she crossed her arms comically and emitted another chuckle, this one being louder than the last. She suddenly turned to Savannah, who had been right next to her the entire time, and smiled. "If you would like to stay here and continue to drink, then, by all means, I will accompany you. You do not have to stop doing anything just to appease me, senhorita."
In quick realization, she noticed how Savannah looked towards her Roxie with an expression of slight confusion, likely due to being abandoned, in a sense, by her friend. Veronica looked in the direction of the well-dressed brunette, who was confident as she had made her way to Savannah's cousin, while Savannah was essentially "left behind". She felt a tinge of empathy for the girl, one that she would rarely act upon, except in times of grief or utter despair (or, clearly, when she was in the process of becoming intoxicated). Bodyguards typically didn't do much talking, nor did chauffeurs, who were regularly trained to only speak when spoken to. But with the strong influence of alcohol in her system caused her to feel more and more sociable by the minute. She began to frown at the girl, who was nearly as tall as her, but she did so in the manner of a sympathetic mother to a young child.
"O, mi moça, is something wrong? You seem a little . . ."
Her voice showed some sense of worry, but she didn't really know what to say next, and simply tilted her head again. Though she was probably more in-tune to others' emotions when she was under the influence, it was still hard for her to find the right words. Struggling not to slur or blabber in Portuguese was even harder, as she felt compelled to do so. She just stood there for a few moments, gazing intently at the girl, leaning against the bar counter. Then she turned her gaze to the rest of the party for the second time, and back to Savannah again, giving her more space as she moved a bit out of the way.
It started with an S, but that's all she knew.
Not too long afterward - 10 minutes or so - Veronica's sense began to dull just a bit, and she began to feel tipsy and she was overcome with a sense of slight fatigue. She already knew this was an unfortunate effect of all the alcohol she had just consumed. She made an effort to stay awake, to fight it, hoping that she wouldn't be too distracted to respond to a bad situation. Thankfully, such intoxication didn't have to heavy of an effect on her in the past, and she was confident that in the face of danger, she would react swiftly. She was high-functioning and it barely affected her persona or abilities - at least, that's how she thought of herself.
It soon became clear that this thought was, at least, a bit of a stretch.
In a split second, Veronica realized something - she was just standing there in deep, intoxicated contemplation. And the funny thing was. . . she wasn't even thinking about anything. Or at least Veronica could no longer remember what she was pondering about. She was so far gone that she did not realize when Savannah had returned, and the young girl quietly apologized while remarking that she wasn't obligated to drink. The girl had probably been around for a good five minutes, and rather than adding to the apologies with a remark about how she was just staring into space 10 seconds ago, she nodded quietly.
She smiled at her words regarding her work and let out a small, hushed chuckle at the young lady's mention of the men at the party. It was rather cute that Savannah had regarded her feelings and even mentioned guys. The Brazilian woman turned her gaze to the party and her smile grew wider, as if Savannah was a naive and adorable little girl. As far as she knew, in her line of work, Veronica barely had time for men. Not only would they be at risk due to her involvement within the mob, but she also didn't have much time in general. The Porters were certainly gracious to her, providing her with good money and welcoming her, but she worked practically seven days a week. She didn't have a problem with it, but because of it, she had to cut off communication with her own parents. It was a decision that brought her anguish and her grin was faltering, but at this time, she need not think about such a thing.
"I'm not really the flirty type. And besides, men are too much work, and I have enough to deal with already," she crossed her arms comically and emitted another chuckle, this one being louder than the last. She suddenly turned to Savannah, who had been right next to her the entire time, and smiled. "If you would like to stay here and continue to drink, then, by all means, I will accompany you. You do not have to stop doing anything just to appease me, senhorita."
In quick realization, she noticed how Savannah looked towards her Roxie with an expression of slight confusion, likely due to being abandoned, in a sense, by her friend. Veronica looked in the direction of the well-dressed brunette, who was confident as she had made her way to Savannah's cousin, while Savannah was essentially "left behind". She felt a tinge of empathy for the girl, one that she would rarely act upon, except in times of grief or utter despair (or, clearly, when she was in the process of becoming intoxicated). Bodyguards typically didn't do much talking, nor did chauffeurs, who were regularly trained to only speak when spoken to. But with the strong influence of alcohol in her system caused her to feel more and more sociable by the minute. She began to frown at the girl, who was nearly as tall as her, but she did so in the manner of a sympathetic mother to a young child.
"O, mi moça, is something wrong? You seem a little . . ."
Her voice showed some sense of worry, but she didn't really know what to say next, and simply tilted her head again. Though she was probably more in-tune to others' emotions when she was under the influence, it was still hard for her to find the right words. Struggling not to slur or blabber in Portuguese was even harder, as she felt compelled to do so. She just stood there for a few moments, gazing intently at the girl, leaning against the bar counter. Then she turned her gaze to the rest of the party for the second time, and back to Savannah again, giving her more space as she moved a bit out of the way.
veronica carvalho
chaffeur + bodyguard affiliated with the porters
outfit: x x x
mentioning: Syd ( Pyroclast ); Savannah ( Misty Gray ); Roxie ( Bellz )
interacting w/: Savannah ( Misty Gray )
feeling: tipsy / mellow / concerned
outfit: x x x
mentioning: Syd ( Pyroclast ); Savannah ( Misty Gray ); Roxie ( Bellz )
interacting w/: Savannah ( Misty Gray )
feeling: tipsy / mellow / concerned