just_muse_me | 31.6. Mr Mysterious lyrics

[obscuritenoire]

When I get out, I get out, when I get outside the house,
Out the house, not to work,
I'll be looking for a guy, that I saw, that i saw,
In the middle of the night, yes the night,
But for some silly reason he got away
- Mr Mysterious by Vanessa Amorosi

Co-written with gr8muppetyodin, histhornedrose & naysowee
[Follows THIS]

Buffy's skin had broken out with perspiration, her heartbeat thumping in her chest, and her breath starting to come out in quickened puffs of air. The music pounded around them, loud and hard so that she and Rory could feel it deep within their bones. She grinned up at him as they continued to dance, bodies pressed up against each other as they moved to the beat. She wasn't even sure why she hadn't just given in to a night out before. Buffy had needed to let loose for a while, and this was definitely her kind of medicine. Back in Sunnydale she'd had the Bronze, but now the Bronze was non-existent just like her town, and here in Edinburgh she hadn't really let herself get attached to anywhere or anything.


Only Braveheart here had some awesome moves, and he really was something nice to look at. Their shared tumbling still gave her warm fuzzies at night, but she knew that was going to be a once off. He could just be a friend, a fellow expert in nocturnal life that she could just enjoy grinding up against in a nightclub. And if what Xander had told her the night before was the truth - he was the one that was pressing for her and Xander to start enjoying a few benefits with their friendship. She hadn't exactly agreed just yet, but she had given Xander a helping hand. It was the least she could do, even if she would have preferred her best friend just found a nice girl to settle with. Preferably one he wasn't in danger of losing any time soon.

Buffy curled her fingers around the back of Rory's neck as his hands tightened on her hips and she started to laugh as the endorphins pumped through her system. Her back arched up just as the song was coming to an end, and she was still somewhat attached to Rory as they made their way back through the dance floor towards the bar to grab a couple of drinks. He had her hands braced against the bar as she stood between his arms and turned her head to survey the crowd. For some reason the Frenchman slipped into her mind and she tried to push him back into the dark corner where sexy mysterious men she was never going to see again needed to stay.

"Well, well, looks like someone's caught the eye of a not so trashy looking brunette. You did say you liked brunette's, right?" Buffy asked as she looked over her shoulder at Rory. "Edinburgh definitely has a high concentration of those. Not like America where everyone seems to want to be blond."

Rory had his kilt on with black boots and an old Hendrix t-shirt with his leather jacket over the top. It might not be a fashion choice to everyone's taste, but it was his style and they could all kiss his pale Scottish arse if they didn't like it. He ordered a couple of his favourite beers and handed over the cash as he leant on the bar with one elbow. "Huh?" he said not-so-eloquently. "Are you kidding, lassie? Every second person in Bonnie Scotland is a redhead. What you talking about brunettes?" He was far from brunette himself, had always been blonde, but his mum had been a redhead too. He looked around the place, trying to see what she said and when his eyes locked with a brunette across the room, he felt an odd shiver creep down his spine. "That lassie? She looks like she wants to eat me or boot me up the arse."

Buffy snapped her jaw as she revealed her teeth with a wicked glint in her eye. "Well, you are very edible. And maybe the redheads are hiding under hair dye because I'm looking around this place and I can't see any redheads. Or do redheads just not go out at night?" She looked over again at the brunette but the woman seemed to only have eyes for Rory. "She's very beautiful. I'd do if I was a guy."

Rory looked at her like she was mental. "I dinnae want anyone eating me. Nay like that." He turned his back to the crowd, pressing his lips together. "Is she still looking? Feck, I hope she isnae a pal of an ex lay or something. Had this one lassie once, she was completely fecking mental. Thought I promised one of her friends that we were exclusive after one fecking shag, and it was like she wanted my blood. I'll tell you, I dinnae understand you lot sometimes. You can be scary as all bollocks when it comes to relationships. Why is she looking at me. Do I have booger hanging oot my nose or something?"

Buffy tilted his head back with a push of her fingers against his forehead and had a serious look up his nose for wandering boogers. "Nope, snot free. Maybe it's just because you look so hot in the kilt and leather jacket? It's making me remember exactly why I love Scotland, that's for sure. Think I could get naturalised? I love a country that has their men looking permanently hot. I've realised how very overrated pants are. Who needs them?" Even Buffy herself had foregone her pants tonight. She wore a leather skirt that stopped a little above her knees. It was a little less slutty than a mini skirt, but the slit up the side definitely made it easier to walk in. She looked back past Rory to check on the brunette but she was gone and replaced by an all to familiar Frenchman that sent a shudder through her tiny frame and her nerves instantly on edge and alert. "Oh my god..."

Rory accepted their beers gratefully and took a large mouthful straight up as he held the other bottle out to Buffy. He exhaled heavily in relief at the cold beer and held it up in a toast. "What are you whining aboot now? You like dramatics, dinnae you? I swear, you could make a drama oot of a toilet roll if you tried." But he did follow her line of sight, curious in case the brunette who had been looking at him was maybe taking her top off or something, because that would be really interesting and he wouldn't mind that view at all. But the chick wasn't there and he pulled a face in confusion. "What are you looking at? If it's some lassie with her arse hanging oot of a too small skirt again, I dinnae wanna look."

Buffy shook her head, her gaze locked with Blaise's briefly before she managed to look away and down at the beer she suddenly found in her hand. She made a face, still traumatised by the last time she'd drunk beer. It had never been kind to her, but right now she didn't have the energy to object and nearly finished half of it in one swallow. "It's not dramatics, it's seeing Frenchmen that I wasn't supposed to be seeing again. Besides, you'd be bored witless if I wasn't here right now. Who else are you going to make fun of, hm?"

"Oooooooooooooooo, Mr Mysterious, huh?" Rory said with a snigger, immediately turning around now to gawp openly in the guy's direction. He wasn't proud, not at all. "Which one is he? Oh, wait. I see it, I think. Only one in the whole room in a suit. Maybe he came from a funeral, only he kind of works it. Gloves, too. I wonder who the guy's stylist is. Every time I try and put product in my hair, it makes me look like I went ten rounds with a grease vat and half my head always looks like it has been squished against a wall. He's looking at you. I think he wants to eat you too. Seriously? This is the laddie you were drooling over?" He scratched his head a little, trying to figure it out. "I bet my cock's bigger, though. Well, I'm nay gonna pull the piss on Xander. I might make him cry."

"Xander's tougher than he looks. He's just been through a lot. Not that either of us haven't." Buffy bit her lip as she thought about the first time she'd met 'Mr Mysterious' and the feel of him hard and aroused pressing into her hip. "I might need to get my hands up under that kilt to confirm, but I think he might just have you by half an inch. Sorry, Elmo. And I don't know what it is about him. There was just something. Maybe it's the only kind of something that works when you're in a dark alley?" She was looking back at Blaise again and subconsciously ran her tongue over her lips. "Hate to break it to you, but you don't really need product. You don't exactly have much hair there."

Rory scrunched his face up with a snort. "Hey, you said you didnae fuck him! In fact you were adamanent you didnae, you big lying snotball! You didnae even think it was weird some bloke wanted to be in a dark alley in the middle of the night anyway? Hair is overrated, I dinnae want to look like a ponce and have an urge to buy a man bag. If you cannae fit what you need in a wallet, then you dinnae need it." He looked back to the French bloke who was sipping a glass of red wine and watching them closely. Now Brunette Eyeball Chick had joined him, her arm slipping through James Bond's and she whispered something into his ear, earning a smirk. "Oh feck me, they're together. You're screwed, lassie. His cock is engaged elsewhere."

Buffy turned to look at Rory, and shoved him as gently as she could. "Hey! I didn't say I slept with him. There was just a little... erm, physical confrontation. He was apparently testing me for whatever reason. Of course I thought it was weird, but hello? I spend my time walking in graveyards and dark alleys. Hardly one to pass judgement. He was apparently coming home from something. I think. I can't remember now. It's all a haze of strange lusty feelings. Aw, but you'd look so cute with a man bag! It could have tartan and sequins and hold all your hair product." Buffy nearly gave herself whiplash as she looked back to witness the two ridiculously gorgeous people arm in arm. Her face fell and she slumped against the bar with her head in her hand. "Well, fecking hell. Way to kill the dream."

Rory waved his beer a little. "I'm nay even gonna ask what the bollocks physical confrontation means. I dinnae need to be that traumatised. Maybe he's stalking you. You could be oblivious to all dangerous stalker dudes. You wouldnae even know because you're too busy thinking aboot his extra half inch, and anyway, I say I have a thicker cock, anyway, so it could still technically be bigger. A healthy handful doesnae just go for titties, you know. Did you seriously just say sequins? Sequins," he sniggered and took another swig of his beer. But he had that feeling he was being watched again and his blue eyes shifted covertly in the direction of 007 and Pussy Galore. "Fuck it! What is this, eyeball tennis? Now I'm all paranoid."

Buffy shifted a little as she tried to fight off the sudden disappointment that came with finding out the Frenchman was taken. Of course he was taken! And she was probably French too, and all with the sexy pouting and sexy lingerie. Buffy didn't have sexy lingerie. She had mostly practical bras and the kind of knickers that came with spots and stripes, not lace and thongs. She made a face as her nose crinkled. "Maybe they're going to ask us if we like to swing? I don't know, but if he's taken his eyes should be on her, and her eyes should be on him. There should be no roaming eyes and making with the attempt at a staring contest. It's not even eye sex! What do they expect? We're not going to go over there. Not when it's all too clear we're not who they want to eat." Buffy blinked and stole a glance down at Rory's kilt and smirked lightly. "You really are more than a healthy handful, Braveheart."

Across the bar, Blaise had a tight grip around the wine glass, even if on the face of it, it wouldn't appear so. His senses had piqued as soon as he spotted Juliette eyeing the blond Scotsman dancing, a point at which Blaise had no idea who the kilted man was with. Now he knew, and there was an unsettled discontentment spiking within him. His suspicious curiousity about Buffy had been what had removed him from her presence that first night close to a week ago now. There had been some subsequent thoughts about her, but Blaise's senses had cooled to her without her in his presence to tempt him. Now he had been watching the two blondes dancing with an unreadable expression his face, the rim of the glass mostly concealing his face. The hunger was back, but once again, it wasn't for Buffy. He knew enough to know he had no desire to feed on her, even if he was watching her. There was still something about her that had him wanting to both keep his distance from her, yet keep her close enough to watch her. The Scotsman was another story, though, and Blaise wet his lips hungrily as his arm remained loosely wrapped around Juliette's waist and his eyes locked on the couple at the bar.

Juliette could feel the hunger emanating off Blaise but she just shook her head as she leaned in closer, dropping her voice to a low murmur as she finally looked away from the Scotsman. "I saw him first, mon ange. As much as I get the feeling he must be your type, he's mine." She tilted her head as she regarded her best friend, her red painted lips curving into a curious smile. "Why are you looking at the fille, mon amour? See something else you like? You're more than welcome to her. Or maybe we could all get together in a lovely little orgy? It's been so long since we had one..."

Blaise turned his head and looked at Juliette, his eyes flashing possessively at the determination he already had over the new prey. "This is has nothing to do with type," he growled at her and swirled the wine in his glass. In a whole club full of sweaty dancers, this man with Buffy was the one that was setting Blaise off. It was dizzying and he almost felt a nausea from the strength of the overwhelming sensations. "I do not trust her. She is a predator, and I just do not know of what. She's... I have no idea. I just know I need to keep her close."

Juliette raised her eyebrows. "That's almost as good an excuse as any to sleep with her. I'm sure she'd really appreciate that particular pick up line. Too bad she appears to be occupied elsewhere even if she is attempting puppy dog eyes in your direction." Juliette locked gazes with the Scot again, almost amused at how much he seemed to be thrown off by the two Kindred. "He really does look good enough to eat. Are you sure you have to have him? Can't I just play with him a little first?"

"Sex is not the answer to anything. I am surprised, mon amour. Usually you are the first to scoff and sneer at young blonde women, and now you are all of a sudden trying to push me into her bed? She is more to your taste than mine. Do remind me, though, cherie. Why in the hell are we in this place of all the tasteful entertainment venues in Edinburgh? If I see one more teenager vomit in my presence, I am not leaving the hotel room again. To think, people wonder why the world is such an ugly place these days. C'est un coup à se dégoûter..."

Juliette shrugged. "I thought the change of venue might open you up a little more, mon loup. Those that congregate in those 'tasteful' venues aren't always the ones to experience true love. Case in point with the delicious looking Scotsman." She tilted her head as her gaze shifted to the blonde woman and she hummed thoughtfully. "She is a little bit tempting, I must admit. I'm not interested in giving you a show if you're not going to enjoy it. It might pay to stop pouting, it just doesn't suit you. I scoff and sneer at the ones without substance. I think you're right about her, though. She's... different." She let out a tired sigh and glanced up at Blaise. "If you're really so bored of this place do you want to leave, or are you actually going to hunt?"

Blaise tilted his head and gave her a look that was a cross between amused and long-suffering. "Open me up to what, mon belle? Do I look like I am starving? At least they are not crawling in disease and substance abuse tendencies," he returned with a small, arrogant snort. He went to look back at the couple at the bar and now found the Scotsman giving him a less than pleased look. Blaise just couldn't tell if it was jealousy or not, and this was certainly an interesting turn of events in any case. Buffy had indicated she was single, and yet she appeared very cosy with this man. "If you want him, chaton, I suggest you stop looking at him like you want to devour him. He is not exactly looking open to invitation at the moment."

Juliette bit back a grin before she managed to change her expression to something softer, more demure. "Better, mon amour? She really does look like she's had her favourite toy taken away. You must have had quite the impression on her, and now here you are... With me by your side and she's probably imagining us making beautiful French babies together. I almost feel sorry for her if it wasn't so amusing. If only she knew, hm? And open you up to just having fun. Would it really be so bad to walk over there and ask her for a dance? Feel her body rubbing up against yours, her heart pounding up her chest as her cheeks flush and the heat radiates off her?"

"This is not dancing. This is a mash of bodies moving together far too close for comfort. This is not even music, it is just noise." Blaise sneered a little, relieved the place at least had some decent wine on offer. When they had first gotten here, there hadn't been as many people, but now it had seemed to multiply like herpes. In fact, just as he finished his comment, a woman in a skin tight blue dress came up beside him and pinched his arse. The look he gave her was a good promotion for the 'if looks could kill' metaphor, his eyes flashing in warning and causing her to step back in surprise and back away quickly. "Merde...," he cursed.

"You can be so old, mon loup," Juliette said with a playful roll of her eyes. But even as the woman in blue was retreating Juliette flashed her own warning glare as she growled low in disapproval. "I really do not see why women cannot understand these days that men are not for sharing. I'm right here next to you, and she still pinches your arse. It's disgusting. Can I eat her?"

Blaise quirked an eyebrow at her. "I am old, cherie," he reminded her with a smirk. But her following question had him shuddering just slightly and going back to his wine. The last thing he wanted to think about was Juliette eating any sub-class members of society just for the sake of it. It wouldn't be attractive to him at all. "Men these days believe they are for sharing, just like men in my time. The only thing is, there is no discretion anymore and women seem to lack modesty more often than not."

At the bar, Rory pointed his thumb over his shoulder and gave Buffy a weird look. "You're seriously attracted to that, aye? He just nearly made a lassie piss her panties. You saw it. What's that aboot? Are you nay getting 'fuck you, I'm better than this bullshit' vibes? because I am." He was already through his first beer and waving down one of the bar tenders. When he got a female, he flashed her a grin, leaning over and automatically starting to flirt with her.

Buffy sighed as she watched Rory with the bar tender. "I'm going to feel like a third wheel no matter what," she murmured as the bar tender moved away get Rory's oh so important beer. She left her own half empty on the bar as she tried to stop watching Blaise. She hadn't missed the scene with the woman in the blue dress, and the images stuck in her mind set off that feeling of unease she'd felt the first night she'd met him - the kind where she was sure there was something she was missing, a piece of the puzzle that had been lost in the back of the sofa. It was driving her nuts. Maybe it was just safer to start a benefits thing with Xander. At least it would stop them both from going crazy. "He didn't exactly not put those vibes out the first time I met him. Difference was he put up with me long enough to have a conversation. I think I kind of kicked him in the etiquette nuts when I refused to take a fifty pound note off him for a cab."

Rory leant back against the bar and raised his eyebrows at her. "You're a fecking weirdo. You get a dude who offers you chivalry that is practically dead these days, and you spit it back in his face. Laddie's clearly rolling in it. You should have taken it. He was trying to protect you. And aye, fucking aye. I get it. You're the big scary bad and dinnae need protecting." He sniggered and shook his head. "Nay laddie will wanna stick with you. You know why? Because sometimes we actually like to know we're taking care of our lassies. It's in our psyche. We dinnae want chicks telling us they're stronger than us and dinnae need us. You tell us that, we'll listen and walk away. Probably why he isnae approaching you. One boot to the nuts is plenty for a laddie's ego. Nay many of us stupid enough to go back for a second shot."

Buffy made a face as she nudged Rory with her knee. She knew he was right, but that didn't mean she had to take it completely well. "Hey, look, I know I fucked up okay? It struck me on the walk back home. I just figured he was trying to... I don't know. Get rid of me, and just pay me for it. He said it was thanks for the conversation. I don't know why it just struck me as something off putting, but it was. Now I know. I still don't know if he's just not coming over here because he's not interested. And not just because of the kick to the balls. Sometimes there's just nothing there, you know?" She glanced back and found that piercing gaze on her again, and it felt like Blaise had just stripped her down to her bare skin. "I miss being protected," she admitted quietly.

Rory watched as Buffy was once again mesmirized by this bloke across the bar. Everytime he looked at her, he just drew her eye contact and held it. "You had confrontational friction, or whatever the feck you called it, conversation, possibly drooling and more wet knickers over this laddie than a crowd a Bieber concerts, and you got your panties in a twist because he wanted to pay for your cab home as a thank you for a good conversation?" He blinked, really trying to figure out what her issue was. "Now he's here again after you've been pining, and you willnae go near him? I dinnae get you. I think you've taken too many hits to the head in your time."

"Can't argue with you on that one. Besides, how am I supposed to go near him when he's got Snow White on his arm? Maybe his cock really was spoken for the whole time and I just caught him in the middle of a lover's quarrel when he was considering straying, but thought better of it? She's scarily beautiful. And has the whole dark hair thing going. I'm blonde. I'm American. I'm a cheeseburger and she's steak." Buffy wasn't looking away from Blaise though, and she felt her heartbeat pick up as he ran his tongue over his lips. "He's chocolate mousse."

Rory shrugged. "Did he say his cock was spoken for? Did you ask him? Hey, dinnae fecking knock blonds, alright? Brown hair doesnae make her a superior fecking being. I'll give you the American thing, though. You lot are weird. French people probably think you're weird too. He's nay chocolate mousse. He's that creamy French shit with the hard top thingy. What do they call it? Gives you a toothache when you eat it, but fecking nice, like. Rich feckers custard. Me, I still personally prefer my custard oot of a tin."

Buffy tore her gaze away after a moment of struggling and glanced at Rory. "Brulee. But even if I do go over there, clearly he doesn't appreciate a brazen chick like the one he nearly murdered with a look. And if he's not spoken for by Steak Girl then I'm still going to look stupid trying to hit on him when he's all cosy with her. Maybe that's why he's not coming over here, too? He thinks I'm cosy with you, but I told him I wasn't spoken for." Buffy pressed her lips together as the logistics started to make her head hurt. What she wanted was to get Blaise alone again. She just wanted ten minutes alone with him, no talking. Just touching, feeling... tasting. She could almost feel his hands on her again, and she shuddered in response to the sense memory.

Rory pointed with his fresh beer. "Go and apologise for the fifty quid," he suggested with a shrug. "For all you know, he wants short of the lassie for a wee while. He might just hate the Black Eyed Peas, and this place seems to like playing them on monotonous repeats. Maybe he's constipated, or maybe his horse lost at the races today. Ate bad chicken for dinner? Cannae dance to save himself. Oh, oh! I know. He's allergic to beer. He's gay?"

Buffy gave him a look. "No way is he gay. He's definitely a straight custard under that hard layer. Although he did maybe say he was... um, what was the word? I don't know, varied tastes or something." She wasn't exactly going to argue though. In fact as soon as Rory gave her the idea she was already moving away to go and talk to Blaise. She was a big girl now, right? She could do this.

Juliette noticed the blonde making a move, and she smirked softly at the sight. It seemed the cue was being given to swap partners, and she was more than willing to make her move. She gave Blaise a soft kiss on the cheek before slipping from his embrace to make her way through the crowd to the kilted Scotsman she'd had her eye on as soon as she and Blaise had entered the club.

Rory was watching Buffy move across the club and was still working his way through his second beer. He might have to upgrade to scotch soon. He felt an urge to get a bit pissed that night. It had been one hell of a week, and it was good to let his hair down a bit. In fact, he was so intent on Buffy and the beer that he nearly shat himself when he felt someone come up behind him and he shrieked, jumping, when he turned to find himself staring into the green eyes of the woman he swore was just standing on the other side of the room. "Fecking hell, lassie! Quit with the Dracula act, aye? It's enough to give a laddie a fecking heart attack." He put his hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating rapidly. When she still locked his gaze, he leant just a little out of her space so he could analyse her a bit. "I'm nay made of chocolate, you know..."

Juliette's eyebrow had arched up at the shriek, but that still didn't dampen her lust for him. In fact, it just made her more intrigued. Until he called her Dracula and she stuck her tongue out in distaste. "Non, non, non, mon petit chou chou. Do not compare me to Dracula. I just have grace where all your petite filles do not. You do not get surprised by them anymore because they spend so much time trying to get your attention with ridiculous heels and shirt little skirts." She ran her hands over her hips, smoothing her palms over the silk of her red dress. "Is there really nothing about me you like?" Her smile increased as her green eyes flicked over him. "Then I'll just have to find out what you are made of, hm?"

Rory was still leaning away from her uncertainly. "And what's wrong with wee skirts?" he asked, pointing at her with his beer. "And our lassies? I'm offended. There isnae anything wrong with our lassies. You French lot are just so up yourselves you think your better. Right now, nay, there isnae much aboot you that I like. That isnae graceful, that's just being a big bitch." He wasn't ever backwards in coming forwards. He raised his eyebrows at her challengingly and put his beer to his lips again, taking another swig. "And I cannae even decide if you just insulted me in train language, because that's what is sounded like. You need to come with subtitles, like."

Juliette tilted her head. The fieriness in this man was definitely something she found attractive. And there was something else. A hidden depth to his eyes that hinted at sadness. It made him seem older than his years. Juliette made no move to enter his personal space as he seemed so intent on getting away from her, and so intent on telling her she was stuck up and a bitch. It made Juliette want to push him back against the bar and have her way with him but she managed to restrain herself. "It means my little blue-eyed boy. I do not think it's 'train language', or an insult. I'll stick to English for you." She held her hand out for him. "My name is Juliette. I think we got off on the wrong foot, darling."

Rory looked from her hand to her face and then back again before he shifted his beer to his other hand and took hers to shake it. He couldn't help it, ever since he got attacked in that graveyard, he had just been harbouring a wee bit more paranoia than usual. Meeting Buffy probably hadn't helped. He usually had more confidence in himself, but it just shifted slightly of late. Strange and mysterious people gave him goosebumps and now there were two of them. "Just for the record, there isnae anything wee about me," he felt the need to point out. "Nay that there is anything wrong with wee. It's nay what you've got, it's how you use it. Also, this is a real kilt, it isnae skirt... just in case that was why you were all with the eyeballing across the room. This is Buchanan tartan, and made by the best kiltmaker in town." He looked at their joined hands. "Rory," he added.

Juliette just smiled at him and leaned in with their hands still joined to kiss both his cheeks. "I would never presume that it was anything less than the real thing, Rory. I'm sorry if I came across as a bitch. Perhaps being away from Edinburgh for so long has hardened me in the worst of ways. I'm also very glad to learn there's nothing wee about you. As much as it's about how someone uses it, I still prefer a decent handful and something to fill me up."

Rory smirked, fishing his wallet out of his jacket pocket. "Oh, aye? And what aboot the other half over there? What's he going to say aboot you having my handful fill you up, huh? I dinnae know aboot you, but I prefer my arse withoot a foot up it on most occasions. Cannae speak for when I'm drunk, mind. Dinnae really remember what I like when I'm on the pished side. If you two were sizing me up for some sort of marital threesome as an anniversary gift or something, you can find another dildo on legs to fulfil your fantasty."

"As imaginative as that imagery is, he's not my husband. Do you see a ring? He's just my best friend. We're close and we have an arrangement. One that seems popular in this day and age, but one that is clearly open when it comes to other handfuls. He won't mind us getting close. I think his attentions will be occupied elsewhere anyway." Juliette nodded towards Blaise and Buffy the two locked in each other's gazes as they stood close enough to kiss, but neither closing the gap. It was like they were both just sensing each other out.

Rory shot her a skeptical look with a snort. He had no problems with a good hard ride, but he never metaphorically wanted to be taken for one. "I dinnae see rings on a lot of married people, lassie. That line never works, and has well gotten me into trouble in the past. In fact, in my job, I cannae wear a ring to work, so bite that," he told her with a smirk and a nod for emphasis. "Aye, alright, if he is so intent on her... and really, he just looks like he wants to eat her... why was he looking at me earlier like I was a fifty pound steak covered in gravy? Sure he isnae gay? Because that's some serious SNAG dress sense he's got happening there. There is a fine line between metrosexual and preferring penises."

"I can promise you I am not married, Rory. What can I possibly say to you to make you believe me, hm?" Juliette blinked at his comment, her green eyes flashing momentarily. "You're married? If that's why you are not interested, then I will definitely cease now. I am not interested in stealing someone's partner. I am a lot of things, but for the most part I do respect true love." She smirked lightly. "He is a lot of things, but I can assure you he is not gay. He just appreciates a good view. Or perhaps he was jealous?"

Rory shot her an amused look, putting his beer to his lips again for a quick sip before he pointed it at her. "Are you always this..." he waved his hand a little, looking for the right word, "stiff? Chill, lassie. Life's too short. I know you French people like all stuck up bullshit and the like, but just relax. Nay one's gonna pinch your handbag, like. Did I say I was married? All I said was that I cannae wear a ring to work, and you get all on your high horse again. Maybe you should steal someone's partner. Live a wee bit. Or go oot and bungee jump or streak naked at a footy match. Personally, I say you should opt for the last one... just because," he added with a mischievous smirk. "If he's so fecking jealous, why isnae he hitting on her? He doesnae look in any hurry to touch her, nay offense. Unless foreplay in French is sharing a croissant."

Juliette gave him an amused look in return, her laughter rich and melodious as he told her he needed to live a little. If only he knew what she had done over her undead lifetime. Juliette moved to sit down on the stool beside Rory and crossed her legs so that her foot could touch his leg. She rubbed it against it lightly and tucked her dark hair behind her ear to expose her porcelain neck. "I've done a lot of things nude, but I must admit streaking at a football match hasn't been one of them. So you do want to see me naked then? That's at least a start. Perhaps you just need to learn to be less suspicious. Sex can be just sex, you know. There doesn't have to be motives behind it. And Blaise can be a bit..." Juliette shrugged as she tried to find a word for him. "Well, like you, actually. He'll be trying to work out what it is she wants. French foreplay is so much more interesting than pastry, darling."

Rory just looked at her like she was mental when she started laughing. He gave a shrug, having no clue what had amused her so much. He reached over the bar and swiped a stray pencil that had been lying next to an order pad and then started absentmindedly sketching a picture of Edinburgh Castle from his memory bank. "I have a lot to be suspicious aboot, lassie. That's part of me, and if you dinnae like it, you can stick it up your arse. Perhaps you just need to stop judging people," he told her, looking up with an eyebrow raised as she struck one of his underlying raw nerves. "And unlike Blaise... seriously, that's his name? Anyway, unlike flame boy, I actually bonked her, so I very much doubt he is anything like me. Only you French would believe your foreplay is better than the rest of the world."

Juliette stilled as she watched him start to sketch, her gaze fixed on the pad as a shudder rolled through her body. He was artistic, and very talented. The Toreador in her was even more drawn to him, and she couldn't help wondering what he would be like as Kindred. Whether he would even want to spend eternity with her when she couldn't even get him into her bed. She really was losing her touch. She leaned forward to brush her lips against his cheek and gave him a soft smile. "Maybe you need to reacquaint me with Scottish foreplay then, mon amour. Forget flame boy, and forget her..."

It was Rory's turn to laugh now as he paused in the sketching and turned to look at her. "You arenae letting up, are you? Why me? Pretty sure you could have any bloke you want. You have Monsieur Sex on Legs over there, and you want a taste of me? I might be an innocent virgin, you know," he added and then raised his eyebrows at her, but shot her a smile right after. His pencil went back to skimming over the rock features at the base of the Castle, but a moment later he glanced at her again. "Like Haggis, I hear Scottish is an acquired taste anyway."

She gave a shake of her head. "Non, I'm not. You're attractive, you're artistic, you look good in a kilt. There's something about you that makes me want to experience more. I don't want just any man, I want you. Sometimes attraction is inexplicable, it just happens. Blaise is not mine, not in the way you're thinking. If I'm completely honest, I want someone who is mine... But I do not mean to assume that's you. We might sleep together and find out we do not fit. Or you might see that I am not a completely stuck up bitch and decide you wouldn't mind knowing me." Juliette continued to watch him drawing, still awed by his ability. "And I always did like an artistic man. How do you expect anyone to acquire the taste if you do not give them a chance?"

"What if I dinnae want to be owned?" Rory asked her. He wasn't actually meaning to make her attempts here difficult, or be difficult himself. But when he got buttons pushed, he tended to get a little toey. He technically hadn't rejected her, nor did he have any intentions of doing so, but he did want to know what she was all about and why she had suddenly zeroed in on him in a heaving club full of other potential sex objects. "I'm getting a feeling you always get what you want, too, and that does just kind of make me want to make you work for it all the more. I've given plenty of people chances, I'm just getting some sort of warning bells with you for some reason. I just cannae decide why, and that maybe I'm at risk of being dragged into a bondage lair and strung by my scrotum for a bit of D&M. It's always the ones you least expect into all that."

Juliette tilted her head and picked up his beer to steal a sip. She wasn't normally a beer drinker but there was a part of her that felt an urge to taste what he tasted, to experience what he experienced. "I do not mean to imply ownership. I'm talking about a partnership. A relationship of... equals. But I suppose I still mean to imply exclusivity. If it ever came to that. Again, there is no guarantee that it would. Perhaps it would just be a night of fun and nothing more. I can also assure you your scrotum is more than safe with me. D&M has never held interest for me. Pleasure shouldn't be at the hand of such torture." She took his pencil and paper and wrote her name and number at the bottom of the page. "I like that you're making me work for it. I like that you do not give yourself up so easily. I can't help it. It is actually turning me on more."

"Just at the hand on one's wrist?" Rory threw back, holding his hand up and making a wanking motion. First she steals his beer, now his drawing. For a moment, he could just watch her curiously. It wasn't that he had strong urges to figure out every individual whose path he crossed. He didn't. In fact, he mostly left people to their own devices until they gave him a reason not to. Her gawping at him across the room for as long as she had definitely gave him cause, and because of that, of course he was wary. He didn't think she wanted to rob him or anything, he hardly had anything worth robbing. But she must want something off him, he just wasn't sure he could buy that it was simply his cock. He looked at the number, and then up at her, eyebrow raised. "I dinnae live around here, lassie, and I'm pretty sure you dinnae either."

"It's my number while I'm in this country. I could always extend my stay for the right reasons... Then again, perhaps a fling is just what the doctor ordered? No ties, no expectations. You don't need to fear me stealing your soul in the middle of the night and trying to make off with your artwork." She handed him back the pencil and paper as she arched an eyebrow. "You do not have anything to worry about with me, Rory. You're in good hands, I promise."

Rory was finding the more she said that, the more suspicious he got and as he placed his hand down over the napkin, covering both his drawing and her number, his blue eyes locked with hers for a good long few moments, like he was trying to see something there that he was trying to look for. After another couple of beats, he got a slight, odd shiver up his spine and his hand reflexively went to the side of his neck, his fingers brushing over the skin there as he continued to hold her gaze. "I'll have to sleep on it and see how I feel when the suns come up, aye..." he murmured when a gap in the music complimented his quiet comment.

Juliette managed to hold his gaze, even as his hand went to his neck. It was strange that Rory seemed to sense something in her. It made her wonder if he was familiar with Kindred, but she wasn't about to ask. She just slipped off the stool and cupped his face gently before she kissed him slowly, letting it linger as she tasted him. "Sweet dreams, Rory Buchanan. You have my number."

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