Participants:
| Scene Title | No Stop, One Way Trip |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | The weekend getaway goes a little awry when abilities interfere. |
| Date | February 12, 2011 |
The Beach — Miami, FL
It's near midnight at the Acqualina Resort Beach Club, the tall tower building of the hotel raising through the darkness off the night. The lights of the towering citadel sparkling in the reflection of the nearby ocean. At the base of the building a rectangular pool leads away from the building as if a pathway. Pooling very near to the beach, many people remain outside. The party still carrying on through the night. A little away from the poolside, lanterns hang to illuminate the outdoor bars. People still very well into getting their drink on.
The ocean is beautiful at this time of night, though not many of those present are paying attention to the beauty of the twilight. Most are more focused on groping and gyrating of some sort. Or drinking. The battered beach serves as the dancefloor, dimly lit by the surrounding lanterns and torches. People weakly holding drinks as they dance rigorously along the beach. The music blares for many blocks further than the immediate beach, but there will be no trouble with the police. This isn't New York City.
"I love Miamiiii~" Tic stumbles back into the much larger arms of Big Ruff. His eyes glazed over as he vainly tries to bring the comically large fruity tropical drink to his mouth. Lips twerking to the side, Tic is unable to bring the twirly straw to his mouth.
The little copse that Smoov and his troop fill is a little quieter than the main party, though it is still pretty loud. Nearly impossible to hear the lapping waves mere feet away. Occupying a hammock, Smoov pushes himself up somewhat to peer over at his entourage. Dressed only in a pair off khaki shorts and a golden cross necklace, the man gives the other a bored look. "If he can't 'andle it. Take em up." He commands cleanly to the more sober Big R. Leaning back into his hammock, large sunglasses are pushed over his eyes.
"Where did my boss go?"
On the other side of the pool, Kristen is chatting with a man at least six inches taller than she is. He's well muscled and tanned, and giving her a star quality smile as he talks and talks… and talks.. all about himself. Every once in a while, he's given a polite smile back and maybe a bit of laughter as yet another horrible joke pours out of his mouth. She's sipping from a straw in a short glass. The liquid inside is bubbly, champaign colored, and on the rocks. "That's just— great," she responds to whatever it is that he said. He can't even tell that she's not interested.
The party wasn't much of a surprise, considering that's really all they've been doing since they got down there. Big R wouldn't let her bring a huge suitcase, so she's stuck wearing what everyone else is. Beachwear. In K's case it's a bikini with a sarong wrapped around her lower half. Her feet have a pair of thin leather sandals decorated with little shells that she got in the gift shop. Only because high heels aren't very good on the beach.
Her eyes wander from the dreamy specimen in front of her (at least he's not trying to touch her) and drift over the guests. She knows absolutely no one except the host and his entourage. Somehow, she doubts that he knows any of them either. As she turns her attention back to the man, she gives a tight smile and one last nod, a farewell. "Well it's been— " Pause. "— talking to you. I hope you get that part in the commercial, then I could say I knew you back when!" She's trying hard to sound chipper and not sarcastic, only because the guy has no idea who she is.
"Whatyoo gonn' do?!" The mock Jamaican accent comes from Tic. It's the accent he usually gets when drunk and hanging around Smoov.
"Galang lef' mi" Smoov spits, a slightly agitated look gifted to his manager. Agitation is something rare from the former star, something reserved generally for Tic. Smoov pushes himself up somewhat, pivoting on his hammock. Eyes running over Tic, he glances up to Big R. "Get im to his bed, eh?"
Feet slap against the sand quietly. Smoov makes his way away from his own pair of stooges towards the pool. His eyes sliding over the woman standing on the other side of the pool. With the tall, stupid looking man. Barefeet slapping against the marble, Kojo navigates his way alongside the pool. Until finally arriving at Kristen and the man with her. "Apologies my man, need to talk to me boss lady."
One arm is extended towards the woman as he gestures at the beach with his free hand. "Care to get away from getting away?"
Kristen looks just a little surprised when Clark saunters up and raises him a couple of eyebrows. The fact that he's running interference for her is a plus though. Issuing the meat treat in front of her a smile, she shrugs and slips a hand into the crook of Smoov's arm. "Excuse me, I have to talk to— our host."
Without a second glance or even waiting for his answer, she turns and begins stalking toward the beach, practically dragging the former star behind her. Once they're well enough away that she can't make out anything the partiers are saying, K pauses and lets out a long breath. "Okay, I think I've had enough fun… You enjoying the party or just attempting to rescue me from tall, dark, and boring over there?"
A skeptical glance is given over his shoulder before they disappear to the beach. Struggling at first to keep up with her, his feet splat down on the sand as they near the water. Toes flexing into the wet earth below him. He smirks some, "Attempt? Miss Reynolds. I reckon that was a succesful rescue. The hero has slain tha bad man and rescued the princess."
"It's been a long night. But you don't look like you've been havin' none fun at all." He mutters with a little frown. "Y'wann me to get you a drink?" His arm slowly slinks away from her. "Or we could just go in th'drink." Smoov lets out.
Holding up the glass she's been sipping at, Kristen gives Smoov something of a smile. "I've got mine," she says in a low tone. Looking out over the ocean, she wrinkles her nose a little and then turns a skeptical smile toward the Jamaican man. "I don't swim in oceans… There's jelly fish and sharks in there." Two very good reasons to stick to chlorinated pools, except for the chlorine factor, and children.
"As for fun, I've had some, don't worry." She doesn't elaborate on what sort of fun, but the fact that he hasn't seen much of her all weekend might be a good clue that her sort of fun isn't exactly what his sort is. "Besides, what is there to do after dark except live it up?"
Smoov tilts his head at her somewhat, stepping towards the water. A deep breath is taken as his hands are placed on his hips. Pivoting some to face her, "I need to confess something, Miss Reynolds. I have a conffession to make." The Jamaican lets out, taking a step towards Kristen. His head lowering for a moment. "I lied to you. I lied to everyone." He takes a few steps forward, hand reaching out to seize her wrist gently. Tugging her weakly towards him and the water. He leans in some, lips nearing her ear. Before finally he whispers in her ear.
"I am evolved." He confesses, lips closing partly. "My ability is to sense jelly fish and sharks." He makes a grandiose gesture towards the water behind them. "I can tell you with one hundred percent accuracy, there are no jelly sharks in this water here." His attention then returns to his boss, a light smile playing on his lips.
"So as I count it, you have two against the ocean, and two against the pool. But we takin' away the two against the ocean.. So.." He lifts a brow at her. "And there's one reason for the ocean you're forgettin'."
The short glass that she's holding slips and lands with a soft plunk in the sand as Kristen is tugged toward the water where the jelly fish and sharks may be lurking. Her sandals are luckily of the beach variety and are practically impossible to ruin with water, so she ignores the icky feeling of wet leather on the bottom of her feet in favor of giving the former star a shocked look. "Detect jelly sharks?! Oh! Now that is a useful ability!" Her free hand comes up to rest against her cheek to add to the dramatic pose.
"Kojo…" she murmurs back to him, lowering her head and stepping a few inches closer but to his side. She lifts her dark eyes to meet his and lets out a long breath. "I have a confession too… I have a bullshit meter built into my cerebral cortex." Then her lips spread into a wide grin as she backs up a pace or two. After a good laugh, she raises her chin and gives him a rather smug look. "So what is the one reason for the ocean?"
"Isn't it though? I can also communicate with them. Tell them who not to sting-bite." Kojo grins broadly as she states her own enhancement. "Does it go off often, around me?" Smoov asks coolly, a smirk still playing on his lips. One hand then brushes against her forearm to grasp at her hand. One finger going to hook around her pointer finger. His eyes glance over at the dropped drink. "I'll get you something else t'drink."
He takes a few steps back, feet sinking into the lapping waves. Finger gently pulling and guiding her towards him. "The reason for the ocean?" Another little tug.
"Smoov is in the ocean." He grins broadly.
"Almost all the time~" Kristen sing songs as she's pulled in the direction of the water. When she's up to her ankles and her feet sunk into the sand, she stops and looks back at her drink. There's a slight shake of her head before regarding the reality star again, "I think I'm good. If I have too much I might get caught on camera doing something I'll regret." No, she hasn't forgotten the almost always present big white guy that follows the entourage around.
The producer gives a wary glance behind her shoulder, it's almost possible to hear the gears working as she scours the beach for the telltale red dot that signals recording. "Speaking of cameras… does yours have the night off or am I about to be a feature?"
"Haven't seen him." Smoov claims innocently, shoulders heaving up in a shrug. Though his finger remains intertwined with hers. "Besides. Aren't you th'boss? Don't you control the editing room?" He lets out a quiet laugh. "Live reality would be.. a lot like real reality."
Standing a little further in than her, almost down to his knees the man waits patiently for her little gears to grind away. "Even if you were." He starts, tugging on her finger a little more. Head tilting to the side. "Would that be a bad thing?"
With her lips pursed, there's a slight shake to the brunette's head as she stares at Smoov. "No, I don't control the editing room. I trust the editors to put a good show together, even if I'm making a fool out of myself in the process." Sometimes they call it artistic integrity, other times they just call it stupidity.
Regardless, Kristen steps out into the water until she's up to her knees in the surf as well. The water, not being really warm at night, sends a shiver up her spine and goosebumps down her arms. "It could be a bad thing. I'm expecting to have to hide my face from the world after getting caught the first time." She still hasn't explained the armor, nor will she, ever.
Seemingly not bothered by the cold. Smoov grins smugly as she steps out to join him. "I've done meself a little research. I've looked into why someone would be dressed.. The way you were. As far as I can tell there are only a few reasons. Some of them being a little more extra curricular than others." He tilts his head with a light grin. "Where were you headed that day?"
He arches a brow, standing still for a long moment. "Y'cold?"
"Cold? In Miami? Is there such a thing?" Yes, there is. Waving a dismissive hand, Kristen shakes her head and swings it back down to her side before braving another step further in. Just to prove she's not a) a chicken or b) cold. Their fingers are still linked and she glances down at them before looking back up at Smoov with a smirk. "Research? I'm impressed, what sort of conclusion did you come up with? Or do you have scenarios sketched out in your head?"
The questions could be a strong indication that she's not going to make any big reveals.
"Well it took a lot of time. Because.. When I first google searched sexy woman armor, I got information on whether or not it's a sin for women to wear pants." Smoov starts, his finger dangling with hers. Dropping his wrist some he starts to swing his arm a little from left to right, in turn taking her hand with him. "You could just be real twis-ted." A light smile flashes up his lips. "But iff that's the case, I've been wondrin why you haven't bought me my own suit of armor."
His head tilts to the other side to punctuate his next word, "Or. You could be into role playin' like in dem movies." His brows furrow some. "You're not going to tell me, are you?"
Puckering her lips to try to stop from smirking or grinning, Kristen's eyes flit to the side as she listens and then tries to ignore the baiting. Her hand swings only for a few arcs before she lets her finger drop and heads in a few more steps until the bottom of the sarong around her hips touches the water. "You're right, I'm not."
That's when she looks over her shoulder at him with star quality smile. One of the ha ha ha sorts that's completely full of conceit. "So, is it a sin for women to wear pants?" While she prefers skirts, she owns a few pairs of jeans for off days. The few that she gets.
Letting his hands hang at his sides, he turns slightly to watch her move past him. "Are you going to force me to follow you around and find out myself? It will be more embarrassing that way. The cameras will be there. You're safe here." Turning to watch her, he grins a little bit. Taking a step closer to her.
"Only iff they're wearing them in me bedroom." Another step closer, as Smoov eyes the water. And suddenly an exclamation and a semi-jolt, "Oy, what was that?!" Pointing into the depths of the water that they wade in.
It turns out that Kristen might actually be afraid of whatever Kojo is pointing at in the water because a shrill scream worthy of slasher fic fame is what sounds out over the water. The producer jumps back, plowing into the fomer star and then falls into the drink. Scrambling backward, she tries to get up before running back to the shore. Apparently her bullshit meter is way off because she didn't sense Smoov's motives in his shout of alarm.
When she finally clambers to a stand, the brunette is soaking wet and staring wide eyed at the water. If there's a camera around, she's going to need to renegotiate this television series that she's producing for him with a clause that she can't appear in any episodes.
When Kristen bumps into him, Smoov throws his arms up to support himself. Dancing back some, he gives a somewhat confused look as Kristen goes mad crawling for the beach. Turning, he arches a high brow as she clambers away from him. Wading through the water towards the beach, Smoov makes a slower approach towards the sand. He cocks his head at her, one hand going to help her stand. "Listen Miss Reynolds… With your bullshit meter."
"I've been trying to make inappropriate advances on you this whole trip. Would you stop screamin' and runnin' away." Pulling on Kristen's wrist, he goes to hunker down towards her, brows knitting tightly together.
Giving the Jamaican an indignant lift of her chin, Kristen's lips get pressed together into a thin line as she turns a shade darker, lucky the sun is down so it's not too noticable. "Well…" The huff of warm air as she tries to come up with some sort of explanation as to why she didn't notice hits somewhere on his shoulder.
"Apparently you didn't make it as obvious as— " Another pause while she continues to think, a glance to the side gives Smoov a view of her profile rather than her full faced embarrassment. "— I'm not a mind reader, Kojo. I don't turn my head every time someone whistles in my direction. Besides, we've barely seen each other."
"If I whistle over and over, would y'look then?" Kojo's hand trails down her wrist to her hand. Pulling her towards him gently, "I thought you had a bullshit meter." Clarke turns slightly to walk alongside the beach. "But meters and mind readins aside. I want to ask you a question before I take your breath away and drive us both to pleasure town on a no stop, one way trip."
Continuing to guide her along the beach, he looks over at her. "Why are you so 'ardcore about avoidin' talkin' about yourself? What are you tryin' to protect?"
"Me," she blurts out quickly. Though she walks alongside and doesn't pull her hand away, Kristen's also not looking in Clark's direction as she speaks. "We don't live in a world where privacy is guaranteed, the more we talk the more gets printed." She's not a star, not by any means, but she's connected to a few and is launching a few more. The producer hasn't ever had a reputation for anything other than being distant and cold toward the press.
"Besides, everyone has things they need to protect. I'm not alone in that." She just has a Dirk.
Pausing in his walk, he pulls on Kristen's hand in order to get her to stop. "Y'don't need t'worry about getting printed around me, K. I don't want the whole world to know about you. Just me." Smoov says coolly, taking a step in closer. Lowering his chin, his hand on hers trails up her arm to rest on her shoulder.
"You don't have to protect yourself when you're with me, K." Dipping his head down, his lips hover a mere inches from hers. One hand going up to neatly comb some hair over her ear.
