Participants:
| Scene Title | Overline |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Gideon d'Sarthe fields some of his guests at the gala opening, outside in the gardens; most of them see fit to behave, and one John Logan nearly pushes the envelope too far. |
| Date | September 24, 2010 |
The original property in being turned into d'Sarthe's has not changed much from its Tavern days. New interior and new decor, for the most part, has taken over, while the outside has been spruced up heavily so. Around the far back perimeter is a new fence, a tall and sturdy arbor that does well with the trees in hiding the skeletal view of midtown in the distance. This fence surrounds new, colorful gardens, which include a well-stocked koi pond that seems to be perpetually layered in lovely green lily pads.
On the inside of the building, the restaurant is home to several different large dining rooms and a few respective bar areas. The dining rooms have variant menus, and so there is always something for someone; from fine French dining to a more homegrown menu in one of the smaller parts of the building. The finer areas are finely colored and detailed in a practical way; intricacy is counted more than worth, and so it gives a visible show of being more complex than it had cost. Some are more opulent, such as the private dining rooms decked in their Sunday Best. Even the less dressed dining rooms are very easy on the eyes, however, most of the rooms also being offset by large windows to views of the outside, to the park and to the span of gardens and large pond, and the tall, vine covered arbor.
D'Sarthe's has a peaceful flow to it, and a very natural feel, especially to how it is laid out and to how the facility has been remodeled since its yonder years. There are no inner public rooms where it feels as if you are not going to be welcome, or otherwise unwanted. It feels exactly how a restaurant should feel; comfortable, not stuffy- as if you simply belong there.
With the soft opening far behind, and only the future ahead, d'Sarthe's has been bedecked in its finest for the grand opening event. Warm electric light makes the intricate, expensive decor pop- from the entrance, with its cloaked, dazzling walkway, all the way through to the still green gardens, lanterns as baubles on the landscape. Dining rooms have been swept with a palette of gold and cream, and the pond glitters like a mirror in the background of the many detailed, wrought iron tables set on the flattened, stone surface. The ambiance is classy, to say the least; as formal as it can be, given the situation.
Inside of the cleared out main dining room is a stage, set up at the fore of the half-moon of windows that look out onto the grounds. The stage, cloaked in lights and curtains, offers a most welcoming sight of a live, miniature orchestra; while the wear and environment formal, the music is modern and classy enough; there is the unmistakable facet of something more Baroque to it. The floor is empty, polished and shimmering under the large chandelier and the lamps dotting the walls.
Two of the smaller dining rooms have been set up with various bars and buffets and double doors open to the main room, which are at a constant state of shuffle as per cooks bringing out fresh hors d'oeuvres and new bottles. There is a similar set-up in the middle of the gardens, providing any and all with refreshments.
--
Unlike his daughter, Gideon is not as excitable when it comes to events that he has seen dozens of in his lifetime. Though this one is particularly important, he has made himself see it otherwise. Just another opening, just another gala, just another sea of faces that he puts on his various masks for. His black and white suit has threads of a shimmering fabric, woven in as pinstripes; the vest underneath is the same, and the inner parts of both are lined with a coppery red lame that matches the cravat on his neck. Down to shined shoes and calloused hands, it seems like someone took a rangy lion- no matter how handsomely his hair is tied back- and stuck him into formal dress. Nevertheless, he carries himself with a similarly leonine grace.
Though currently 'supervising' the small bar in the garden courtyard, Gideon still has been finding time to shake hands and make nice, no matter who seems to wander into his view and offer the same.
When he caught word of the new business opening near his shop, Aric felt it was best to rub elbows with the owner and make nice. It is a simple business tactic that any good business owner learns in school 101. He is running late as usually, having decided to meditate before going out into a large crowd. The man is now well dressed out of his normal "laid back" attire. The Owner of the Blue Moon is dressed in an Armani black suit that has been tailored to his well toned body.
As he arrives, he hands the greeter his ticket and makes his way to the donation area to place his donate. He stays to the edge of the crowd doing his best to not get in the middle of it. The man finds the table and makes his donation as he leans in to speak with the person in an attempt to pay his respects to the host. "Where might I find the owner?" Aric asks with his charming smile to the person running the table.
Humans have it wrong. In the animal kingdom, it's the male peacocks with the glittering tail, the male lions with the showy mane, females reduced to brown and black plainness that reflects the reversal of shimmering frocks and the formality of black tie. The man of the hour over there has it right, though. Logan does too.
The white of his suit is pure, peaked lapels edged in satin, touches of gold at the double-breasted row of buttons and cufflinks, his jacket cut to be worn open. Zeba stripe, stark black and white, shows in the satin waistcoat that cinches his torso beneath, gleaming metallic and introducing the stark black of his shirt. A strip of royal blue satin makes up his ascot, rippled and pinned with gold, tucking into the V of waistcoat. His shoes are of a similar blue, shining with patent leather instead of silk, with silver threading the wingtip pattern at blunt toe. He's preening a little by the set up of food and drink, adjusting the sit of blue neckpiece.
"Fuck if I don't recognise anyone," he's complaining, if mildly, to his companion he stands with. "Are you old enough to drink, even?"
There's a group of around five men in incredibly expensive suits, from one of the smaller criminal brackets in the city. Amadeus is with them so he can hob-knob with a higher class of criminal, in exchange he'll be breaking a few knees and burning an establishment or two to the ground. He's in a white Italian suit, with a black tie hanging down a white shirt with a black trim. He's as cool and sober as a cucumber, at least while his mouth is shut. "Fuckin' swanky."
With Logan in white, Tess sort of matches in a knee-length, sleeveless silver dress with a high waist. She certainly does clean up well, even if she prefers tattered jeans. She's even done her hair up to match the fancy-schmancy dress. Makeup too. She can be a girly girl!
Logan's comment has her laughing and looking up at him. "Not until January, I'm afraid, but I still fully intend to enjoy myself. Besides, if no one cards me, then i'm not going to offer up my ID." She pats his arm lightly. "And I'm sure you'll see someone you recognize. Nicole and Roderick are going to be here for sure. He's her date."
The only real reason Daphne Millbrook ever comes to these types of events is work, and today is no different. But what she'd been hired to do — or rather who she'd been hired to steal from — is no where in sight, nor is the ten-carat diamond necklace her employer had hoped to gain through Daphne's fast fingers. Still, it's early, and the woman might show in a fashionably late entrance. The little thief that could is dressed to blend in — she is a monochrome vision in a pale-gold brocade strapless dress that's just a touch darker than her pale hair. The dreadlocks have been tucked into glittering clips, the rest of her short cropped hair styled reminiscent of a certain iconic blonde bombshell that the peacock holds dear.
She snags a champagne flute from where its owner set it down without taking a sip, and wanders away into the crowd before that owner can notice his drink is missing. Bringing it to her red lipsticked lips, her dark eyes flit around, looking for her target, and more importantly those diamonds — apparently of sentimental value to her employer: they'd been his grandmother's, the woman is an ex girlfriend, and he'd rather do things the old fashioned way: hiring Daphne.
The donation tables in either part of the restaurant are small enough to go unnoticed unless one is looking for them; the well-dressed man that has been sat outside in this post is rather surprised when he is asked where to find the host. It seems that a great many visitors here already know him from the rest, but with a push of his eyeglasses and a gesture of his hand, the handler at the table gently points out the broad man that is sharking near the bar.
Gideon is only reminiscent of a shark because of his eyes, however; though he has taken up a languid stand between shakes of the hand, his eyes are coasting over the groups on the outside, looking, searching, attempting to find something to draw him nearer to someone else. These parties are only truly interesting if you make them so.
Aric 's eyes move towards Gideon as he nods to the man and begins to make his way towards the owner. Aric does his best to stay on the edge of the crowd as he makes his way towards the bar. As he gets closer, he gets a better view of the man and cocks his head to the side. He hmmms softly to himself and gets a good ten feet before he says, "Mr. D'Sarthe?" the Telepath asks in his baritone voice.
In that case, Logan picks up two stalks of champagne, offering one to little Zarek and keeping one for himself, taking her reassurance to heart as he skims a stare over the garden crowd. There is a shift of cognitive dissonance when Logan's green eyes do seek out wee Daphne, some start of concern— possibly for his own sanity— making his fingers clinch onto his champagne glass a little tighter, though he spills nothing. The second passes by, hooking a half-smile on Logan's face as he glances to Tess. "I suppose you're right, I will." Just not in the manner he expected. "And—
"Roderick? You've got to be fucking joking." There is a little more alarm than strictly necessary, although it's possible an element of flamboyant drama might be playing into the idea of Nicole hanging off the arm of a hobbit. "I wonder who's pitying who in that scenario," is catty commentary as he leans a hip against the table, follows Daphne with his eyes
The glass is taken and Tess gives Logan a Zarek grin. "Thanks," is offered before she sips at it and glances around. Then lips twitch and she nods. "Yes, Roderick. It's all your fault though. Apparently you were supposed to be your date, and since you weren't, she settled for Roderick. I kinda feel bad for him, since he knows she settled."
Another sip, then another grin, more impish this time. "She didn't seem to like the idea of me jumping you either. Has she staked a claim? Oh! And they said that Kain didn't go for guys. Don't tell me you really were just teasing me. I was really starting to like the idea of having two dads. Speaking of, is that Richard guy here tonight? I'd like to meet him."
Aric has partially disconnected.
Amadeus breaks away from his group, straightening his uncharacteristically expensive suit, then walks up behind Logan and taps his shoulder. "'Sup, Jeeves? You owe me money, but I ain't gonna ruin the party with that." He looks over at Tess, offering a little grin. "And who's this fine lookin' thing?"
The speedster has since met a few of the people she's met only in her dreams to this point, so it's not too strange to see Logan. She gives him a little what are you lookin' at look, but then her lips quirk upward into a playful smirk, and she raises her glass to him before taking a sip.
Moving that way, her dark eyes still flit here and there, not finding the particular chain of jewels she's been sent to find. Nothing annoys her more than a wild goose chase, but as long as she's here, she may as well enjoy the champagne. She moves in Logan's direction, cocking a brow at him. "Prince Charming," she says playfully. "I don't remember if you had a real name." She nods to Tess and Amadeus, before taking another sip from the flute of sparkling wine.
With the meeting of minds around Logan, who he has been keeping an especially interested eye on, Gideon has a moment to field apparently yet another patron calling his name. John Logan and company- whoever that girl may be- are not serving quite as peculiar as he may like. He'll find a reason to see them, before too long. Aric gets his attention easily enough, it will be holding it that will turn out to be the task.
"Bonsoir." Gideon's address is polite, as Aric makes a first move, and he is not hesitant at all to move forward and greet him with a hand, its twin around a nearly empty flute. "I saw that you were quite eager to make a secondary donation… and I offer my personal gratitude."
As he extends his hand toward's Gideon, "It is my pleasure sir. Let me say you have thrown a wonderful party by the looks of it. You must be very proud." He gives the man a firm shake, "M'name is Aric Gibbs. I am the owner of the Blue Moon. Its a cafe across the way from you on the other side of Central Park on the west Side. I don't wish to take too much of your time. Just wanted to extend my congrats to you."
"I wasn't teasing," is immediate, a line forming between Logan's brows. "They just don't know any better. But don't ask me how I know— " This denial stalls out around when Amadeus' birdlike tap tap on white clad shoulder, getting barely a glance from Logan until recognition kicks in, that he only owes a hundred or so bucks instead of, say, substantially more. "Appreciated," he tells Amadeus, with a blink in place of a nod, glancing from him, to Tess, back again.
Decision is made. "This is Tess. She's a lovechild of an alcoholic, just like you. I'm sure you might have loads to talk about. Swing by the club tomorrow and I'll have your money for you. Excuse me!"
And Logan steps to the left, extricating himself from the middle of both younger gala goers, to sidle up to petite thief. "What if I said I didn't have a name other than Prince Charming? Do I get to keep that?" is mock-serious question. The scars of the nightmares ordeal have faded enough that he can smile, though his gaze is sharply analytical. Even if, as ever on the job, he flits a glance to see what Gideon is up to, shaking hands with yet another stranger.
Amadeus is looked up and down, then Tess just arches a brow and gives him an "are you serious?" look. "I don't know about that," she mutters. But just as she's turning back to Logan he's abandoning her. "You better be back! Tell me more about this Richard Cardinal guy. I deserve to know if he will be my second dad! Like will he buy me shiny things?" she calls after him.
"Second dad? Your dad's bisexual too? Hope he's not a dick like mine." Amadeus looks around, trying to see if there's servants around with something he wants. "Man, don't they have whisky or somethin'? Can't take all these snobby drinks." Then, facing the girl again he offers his hand. "Amadeus Deckard, professional awesome guy, and your next orgasm."
Dark eyes sparkle at Logan's quip, before Daphne gives a dubious glance over her shoulder at the yelling girl just out of her teen's. "I don't know Richard Cardinal well or anything, but I really doubt he's gonna adopt her. I hope she won't be terribly disappointed," the speedster remarks wryly. Still no sign of the diamonds, so she exchanges the champagne to the left hand in order to offer him the right.
"I'm Daphne. I'm glad to see you survived the winter, for what it's worth," she tells him, then follows his green-eyed gaze to the man of the hour, Gideon D'Sarthe. "He doesn't seem your type, so I'm gonna go out on a limb and say you're not checking him out for pleasure but rather for business."
"Thank you." When Gideon says this, it is always sincere. He never lies about being thankful, as it so happens. "Perhaps I shall reciprocate your visit, one day." Even when he is busy with someone else, he sneaks subtle glances out of the corners of his eyes. "A busy man needs reasons to not be so busy, yes? I know that my Marie visits far more local venues than I am able to, it is possible that she has been there if it is so nearby."
The next look he gives, however furtive, aptly lands right on John Logan while Daphne inquires into his purpose here out of earshot.
Walking up one of the paths alone is a young woman in a pale blue dress. It's cut quite simply but the chiffon fabric makes it seem to float with ever step she takes. It's cut in an asymmetrical line, thigh high on one side and calf length on the other. Not quite as fancy as some of the others there, but its classic design gives it a vintage feel that pretty much fits anywhere.
Her hair is piled high on her crown and left to hand loose in ringlets down her back. It's a little too long, but she's got it clipped with some pearl tipped pins which are likely not real. As she makes her way toward the party, ticket in hand, the voice of the young Deckard catches her ear and she freezes. A glance between the ticket and the party is telltale of the fact that she just might be reconsidering and turning around.
Aric smiles and says, "It would be my pleasure Mr. D'Sarthe. Your first round is on me. I am sure your very busy this evening and I believe I need to speak with someone." Aric turns and looks in Amadeus's direction to get a better look at the woman he is speaking with before looking at Gideon and gives him a slight nod, "If you will excuse me….have yourself a wonderful evening sir."
He takes her hand, palm and fingers smooth and workless which may be to do with his lifestyle, maaay be to do with the spa treatment he underwent a couple of days ago especially for the evening. "Logan," he supplies. "And I wouldn't worry — I don't thinks she does 'terribly disappointed' very well, even if the likes of Richard Cardinal might test those limits. As for me…" He makes a mistake by assuming he can afford another glance, but when he finds himself in Gideon's direct line of sight, Logan's posture goes still.
Then, cuts a smile over at Frenchie, all white teeth, and raises his glass. Cheers! Or subtle invitation and signal both. "What's the answer when business and pleasure mingle? Besides, he's a snappy dresser, don't you think." He glances flicks to Aric. "His type isn't bad either."
The hand offered by Amadeus is looked at, then Tess looks up at his face without taking it. "My next orgasm?" She busts out laughing. "Only in your dreams," she says, shaking her head. "Try a hooker. They don't have a choice in who they fuck. I do. And my date is much more attractive, physically and mentally, than you are. Which is to say, you're entirely unappealing. If you were hot you could possibly pull of crude, but you're not, so you can't." Then she turns and saunters off, heading towards Logan and Daphne.
"What?" Amadeus asks as he stands up straight, staring down at his hand, then looks over at Tess. "What was that… thing that just happened?" he asks no one in particular, then stares down at his hand, scratching the back of his head in utter confusion. Huh?
Daphne looks a touch doubtful but smiles in D'Sarthe's direction, her eyes flitting to Aric and arching a brow. "Tall, pale, and squinty is very in this year, yes. He can squint at me any time." Apparently sassy is not something that only happens in the surreal scape of a nightmare brought on by a madwoman.
She notices Tess coming their way, as well as Amadeus left blinking with bemusement. "I'll get out of your way so you can enjoy your date. I just figured I should say hi since… you know. We kinda went through a thing, and it feels like I should, yeah?" The speedster shrugs, and steps aside, setting her empty glass down on a table.
"Pareillement, Monsieur Gibbs." Gideon tilts the glass in his hand in a small gesture of toast, before finishing what is left of it as Aric moves on. He raises a brow, faintly, in Logan's direction when he flashes pearly whites and his champagne. Though very unaware of the tune of conversation going on around John, Gideon wishes, when he steps around a couple to approach Logan and his female groupies, that he had not been so quick to finish his own drink earlier. If this goes at all as he expects, God only knows he will need a drink afterward.
"John Logan. I should have been more expecting that you would come…" It only serves to wonder how many other ones of that little posse are flitting around. "A man after my own tastes, after all." It isn't clear to anyone else what he means, exactly, but Logan will duly notice that he also owns those shoes. "Vous ne perdez pas de temps avec les dames…" Gideon remarks, to himself, after a moment is taken to look at Tess coming back to Logan, and Daphne slipping into the background.
Walking straight up and into the garden, Delia hands off her ticket to take a look around. Immediately a blush makes its way across her cheeks as she realizes that she just might be a little underdressed for the evening. She hasn't been to a party in quite a while though and aside from the drifting voice, she doesn't think anyone here would recognize her.
Making her way along a path near the shrubbery, the first thing she notices is that silver dress. A small breath is sucked in between her teeth as she spies all of the other well dressed people and suddenly, the familiar voice doesn't seem so bad to talk to. Still, she's not quite that desperate yet.
As he walks up to Amadeus, Aric runs a hand through his hair. He stops a good 10 feet from the man and looks him up and down with an annoyed look on his face. Aric sighs softly as he folds his hands in front of him and leans in towards Amadeus and says, "Mr Deckard….need…remind…Cardinal….your lips…should…" Aric does his best to keep his tone calming and quite yet those close enough around him and the young man might pick up on what he says to the horn dog.
"Your presence actually confirms that I didn't just go completely insane during that clusterfuck," Logan says, imparting this little admission swiftly between the current of Daphne's drift away, Tess's approach, and Gideon's words. "I owe you one." But his name summons his attention, letting the speedster go with a quick wink before the Briton is turning towards the restaurant owner, a pale-eyed look that sweeps over him, head to foot, though his attention snags on shoes.
A hand comes up to smooth his own ascot tie. "Bonsoir," is what Logan knows to mean good evening. He pronounces it as bone-swar, for some reason. It is highly likely he genuinely thinks it's acceptable. "Any excuse to dress up, Gideon. Sorry you didn't get fair warning — I don't think I got an invite to RSVP."
Daphne's smiled to as Tess walks up to the trio, as is Gideon. To Logan she leans in to say softly, "Ever leave me alone with that boy again and I'll get one of the dancers to slip eyedrops in your drink." But she makes the threat with a bright smile. Then she's giving that smile to Gideon and offering a hand to him. "So you're the reason we were all able to get dressed up? It's wonderful to meet you."
"Who the fuck is… oh, that guy, the one who won't fuck Peyton. Wait… you're sayin' he's gay for that chick's dad?" Amadeus asks, not making an effort to whisper, but not exactly yelling either. "So that's why he ain't into Peyton. Knew there was no way a perfectly straight dude would pass up on her." He raises an eyebrow, something suddenly dawning on him. "We met?"
His eyes are drifting a bit, catching Delia's form. He swallows hard, then just shakes his head. "I'm stronger than this, I'm stronger than this…" he mutters under his breath.
"No more than usual," Daphne comments over her shoulder to the belated comment from Logan. She smiles at Gideon's French accent as she hears him speaking to Logan, before heading out to explore the gardens — maybe the diamonds she seeks can be found on the neck of a guest in that neck of the proverbial woods. She slips by Delia on her way out, petite blonde glancing up at tall redhead, not knowing the various connections she has to that girl through mutual acquaintances. She murmurs a pardon moi for the French theme of the night and slips out.
"Any excuse to 'dress up', indeed." Not so bold as to impress himself on ladies as young as his own daughter, Gideon d'Sarthe forgoes the shadow-kissing of Tess' hand in favor of a more warm approach; he takes hers in his own, and puts his other on top of the clasp. His smile is slow to appear, and genuine when it does. "It is my pleasure, Mademoiselle, truly."
"And what, John, is the name of this charming young lady you have with you?" His tone implies that Logan should have introduced her already, but what can Gideon really expect to see? Lack of perceived etiquette is not uncommon in Gideon's experience with Daniel's 'people'.
Wandering through, Delia nods to the petite blonde and watches after her with just a hint of jealousy in her eyes. The look says if only I could be so tiny but she's not. She doesn't notice Amadeus right away, but she's quick to pick up the scent of Logan's cologne. It's rather distinctive, to put it plainly.
Taking a few quick steps, she sidles near the larger group just as she catches side of Amadeus. Immediately, she turns her head with a tense smile in his direction and nods, then it's back again to pay attention to others. Picking a glass of champagne off a passing tray, she silently toasts the waiter and turns her attention to Tess. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to interrupt.. but where did you get that dress?"
The Telepath's barrier waxes and wanes as his own emotions flare. His body is moving before his mind can stop him as he balls his fist and slams it in an upward motion toward's Amadeus's nose. Aric growls, "Cardinal can take care of himself but don't ever speak so disrespectfully about him or Peyton again. Don't even speak her name again…" Aric suddenly blinks as if shocked by his actions not concentrating as his emotions get the better of him for the first time in a long time causing him to open his mind to hear everyone's thoughts. He brings a hand to his head and begins to look like he will throw up. A single drop of blood begins to escape his nose.
"Tess," is Logan's introduction. It's sort of a reliably doggish name, and it's delivered as such, like when Logan introduces his wolfhound to people, though he does now curl a familiar arm around the young woman's waist, for all that he doesn't glance alongside her. "New to the city, and I figured I could stand to accompany her to your galar, monsieur." Slightly better pronunciation. "And meet new people. This, for instance— " And his eyes alight on Delia, recognition clear. "Is Delia. In case you don't read the news."
Looking back towards Gideon, he adds, "I actually made the same offer to Marie d'Sarthe — show her around. You being as busy as you are and everything. Of course, she never did call me back, so I wouldn't— "
Commotion in the form of a brawl, or the beginnings of one, silences the beginnings of goading, Logan unable to help but crane his long neck to see what's going on.
Tess smiles to Gideon as her hand is taken. "The pleasure's all mine." She too glances over to Aric, and she can' thelp but grin as she sees Amadeus getting punched. The arm moving around her waist has her automatically shifting a bit closer to her escort, before she looks up at him, looking amused. "So that's who you were talking about. I promise not to cling around her. I make no such promises about anything else though."
She looks at Delia then, giving her a bright smile as well. She's just full of them. "Hi Delia. Like he said, I'm Tess. Winslow, for the moment," she says, smile forming into a mischievous smirk.
Raeven has arrived.
Amadeus' eyes widen. Not the nose, the last thing he needs is a broken nose! He turns his head slightly, just slightly, and still takes a fist to the face. He almost turns around to fight back, but instead falls to his knees, holding his face. «Hurts like hell, but fuck, best and only trick my dad ever taught me.» "Fuck, he punched me in the face for no reason, this guy is crazy!" He bites the wall of his cheek, hard, swirling it around with saliva, then blood starts flowing from his mouth. "I'm losing blood, I need a nursing student, stat!" he yells out as he continues letting blood flow from his lip.
"If you so much as talk to my daughter again, I will wring your neck with my bare hands." Gideon smiles, the expression sheer politeness, and the words- his voice- menacing. This is why you don't mess around on his turf. The scuffle behind them does not fail to catch his attention, which is possibly more beneficial for Logan than he may realize. d'Sarthe frowns, his features crisp and rigid. One hand motions in the air to the security mingling in formal dress- the only clue that they are there is that they each have a wireless earpiece, small and subtle. His voice is as suddenly rigid as his spine, and virtually a rumble when he calls attention to Aric- who has already disappointed him. Whatever thoughts come out of the boss, however, are decidedly in French, and barking mad even amidst the floodgates of the telepath's head.
"Obtenir cet homme sortir d'ici."
They'll be escorting him out any second- by force if he tries to fuss, but if he cooperates there will be no issue in his leave.
Delia's face just blanches when Logan points her out to the Restauranteur. Staring at him wide eyed with her mouth open just a little bit, the glass slips in her hand and nearly crashes to the pavers. The redhead manages to catch it at the very last second and grip it with both of her hands. "I just.. oh gosh.. I should.. "
Amadeus' girly screams place a somewhat exasperated look on her face and when she turns back to the group, she gives Tess a small smile. "It's nice to meet you Tess, someone seems to be calling me… I should be going." Nodding to the Briton, the smile wanes and her lips purse into a more disappointed countenance as she regards him. "Mister Logan, it was a— to see you again. Mister D'Sarthe, you have a lovely restaurant.. beautiful."
That's about the time she turns toward the little Deckard and grips him by the arm to turn his face away from her dress. "Go to the washroom and rinse with cold water, the bleeding will stop. Goodnight."
The man looks down at Amadeus and struggles to speak, "…I…am…sorry…" He closes his eyes as the security men grab him and lift him. Aric does not struggle because at this time he doesn't seem to have the ability too. He is fighting his own fight within his mind to close the flood gates and block out everyone's thoughts within a seventy foot radius around him. As blood begins to drip down onto his shirt he is able to get out in extreme pain, "asshole." Is he referring to Amadeus? Himself? Or Security? It's hard to tell as Aric struggles to not pass out from the pain.
Logan's smile is hard, but present, even in threat laid bare and open. His arm around Tess' waist remains also, rigid and absent, attention broken from manslaps over —> there to square his chilly, pale eyes back on Danny's old rival. "Maybe you should have left her skinny arse back in Chicago," is the Brit's low comment, leaning forward to deliver it with some conspiracy, roughing from the back of his throat. "Amongst other things, d'Sarthe." His posture straightens, and his smile towards Delia is warmer.
Despite scathing comment just a second ago. "Good evening," he says in the wake of her departure. The last of his champagne is tossed back, empty glass tipped to Gideon in salute, before he's rocking back a step.
"He is sooooo dramatic," Tess says with a roll of her eyes when Amadeus makes his scene. Not that she isn't dramatic, but that's not the point right now. Gideon has her cocking her head to study him, then looking to Logan. A mischievous look crosses her face, then disappears without any mischief managed. This time. She does, however, smile brightly at Gideon and say, "I'm disappointed. I thought that hosts were supposed to be unbelievably charming! There are so many ladies here who would love to have a few minutes of your time."
Amadeus scratches his forehead with his middle finger when Aric is taken away, then reaches into his pocket and puts a tissue to his mouth to dab the blood. "Wait, Delia. Sorry I was a dick the other night. I really wanna talk to you about Keira, I don't want you to be pissed at me for that. I saw the picture and she seemed so sure about your dad…"
He said he would do it, in a sense. It's barely a blink after Logan has finished his drink that Gideon's hand and forearm settles forcibly around the back of Logan's shoulders, palm and fingers curling around the back of his neck. The Frenchman is leant in close, now, the grip on John's neck literally like a vice. It feels as if that rough hand could snap his neck right there, if its owner were so inclined. As it stands, the only thing truly saving Logan's neck- also literally- is the fact that this is a public gala, and just maybe- Gideon still needs him for something. He forces Logan away from his grasp on Tess, with his shoulder and that hand ready to wring his neck; Gideon growls virtually in Logan's ear, brown eyes murderous.
"Mon garcon, the only reason that I am not scraping your handsome face off on my clean cobblestone is because there are many guests here undeserving of seeing me do it. This is your second mark, John- I would hate to have to be around for the third- but if I have to be…"
It would probably be attention grabbing, if he dropped his glass in his hand, but instinct has Logan managing to keep a white knuckled grip around the stalk of the champagne flute. His other hand, now loose off Tess' waist, hitches a grip on the elbow of Gideon's sleeve, the line of his shoulders gone a tense horizon beneath the lines of white dinner jacket. White, also, is a brief ring around pallid irises, but shock settles again as swiftly as it came, narrow jaw tightening as he listens to accent growled warmly into his ear.
"I'm not afraid of you, old man," sounds like a lie, with his voice coming thin, but maybe he means generally. He's rather wary of the current situation, but manages not to kneejerk instinct with either negation or attempting to claw the man's eyes out. "But if you get your paws off me right now, I'll behave, how's that sound? And if you're around for the third, we can make sure it's behind all kinds of closed doors."
Apparently he doesn't want to be charming to his guests. Tess sighs and taps Gideon lightly on the shoulder. "Excuse me, but I'd like my date back, if you don't mind. He said he'll behave, and I'd really like at least one dance before one of us gets us kicked out. There is dancing going on somewhere around here, right?" Either the girl is extremely brave, or extremely dense. Maybe a mix of the two.
Amadeus grunts, shaking his head, then spits into the grass one last time before he starts heading over to the group. No longer mixing the blood with saliva, it's not really the type of cut that'll keep bleeding. "G-Man!" he calls out as he addresses Gideon, holding his arms out in a most friendly way. "Thanks for the save. Anything I can help you with over here? I'm pretty experienced at dealin' with the riff raff, but I didn't wanna make a scene at such a swanky party."
Gideon's breathy chuckle is a noise that many wish they wouldn't hear- it so often precedes something terrible.
"I think that you are… perhaps next time I will take you to meet my Gretchen." His grip loosens slightly, only to shift down on Logan's neck, before settling on the shoulder further from mister d'Sarthe. "She has such a beautiful coat, when winter nears." A firm grip punctuates his words. "Have a dance with this sweet girl, and then get out." When Gideon turns around to take up both Tess and Amadeus in his gaze, it is with a half smile and a hand dropping away from Logan's back.
"No, no. A moment between He and I-" Gideon moves away from the few of them, tucking a hand into his suit jacket to fish for something. He needs a smoke break, if there ever were a better time. "You are most welcome. Now, if you will all excuse me, I have a matter of business to attend to. I do hope you enjoy the rest of your evening." This is largely, only for Tess and Amadeus. A last jab at Logan's unimportance before the host moves off.
Once released, Logan suppresses the urge to rub the nape of his own neck — he at least waits for Gideon to turn away before giving in, mouth in a narrow slit of aggravation before he turns his attention on Tess. "Well I've got my marching orders. Let's go." His hand grips Tess' wrist, now, matter of fact and not particularly date like, just make sure she moves when he does as he starts off for the inner of the restaurant, the clipclop of his shoes sounding sharp and aggressive as he sweeps for out.
He's in a mood, now, for all that it's nothing he shouldn't have expected, as inevitable as his own presence at the event should have been to Gideon. He sets the emptied champagne flute down on a random flat surface as he goes, heading for the sounds of music and laughter from within the building.
While Tess wants to dance, just as she claimed, she doesn't particularly like being manhandled. "Heeeey. Slow up, darlin'. Don't be too excited to dance. We'll get there soon enough," she tells him, brow arching. But she is moving along with him, not making him do too much dragging, which is probably a good thing. For her at least.
"And I ain't ugly." Amadeus says as he passes by Tess, heading for an exit. Apparently he's done, enough excitement for one day. "Well that was a bust." he mutters, then just grunts a few times and heads out. He did not find a new job! Damn his easily distractable cat brain…