Dinner and a Fashion Show [OPEN]
WHO: Hitachiin Kaoru and all guests, invited and not
WHAT: A Fashion Show + Dinner Party
WHERE: The Hitachiin brand local headquarters in downtown Reggio Calabria
WHEN: Day 25, starting in the early evening
( Whatever you want. )
WHAT: A Fashion Show + Dinner Party
WHERE: The Hitachiin brand local headquarters in downtown Reggio Calabria
WHEN: Day 25, starting in the early evening
( Whatever you want. )
Making a quick scan of the party at large, Tieria took note of the different "cliques," as it were, of people: if you knew the alignment of one person within the clique, the rest was fairly easy to put into place, based on the ease with which they were communicating with said aligned person. And Tieria was nothing if not extremely well versed in his city.
After his initial scan of the party, however, he did what he really wanted to do: find a comfortable corner from which to observe. Watching all the city's most powerful people in their finest -- or at least relatively nice -- clothing mingle with one another and make small talk taught him more than a dozen interviews with those same people. And Tieria could people watch with the best of them. Probably could have gone pro.
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A faint thrill of recognition went through him as he sidled up to the man. One last look at his suit clad form.
"Can I buy you a drink?" he asked, unable to hide his grin.
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"It's a party," he said finally, raising an eyebrow. "The drinks are free."
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"That's true!" he said, eyes twinkling. "But how else am I supposed to start up a conversation when the show's on a break?"
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"You could," Tieria said dryly, "comment upon the show itself, or the fashions, or the color of the flooring. They're all status quo conversation starters. Though, unfortunately, alongside 'can I buy you a drink?', they're all very over-used. And will cause me to disdain you further." He kept a smirk from his face. "You are allowed one more shot, sir, before I leave to stare vacantly elsewhere."
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"How about this, then, Ti-e-ri-a," he said, voice low. "I've heard about you, and would like to get to know you better." Drawing back suddenly, he grinned. "My aim's always been good, so how's that for a last shot?"
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Beyond this, however, Tieria was backpedaling with ferocity, trying to figure out how this whiskey-smelling man knew his name, or had heard about him, but to no avail. It was troubling, and disconcerting, and any number of other things that his brain was trying to point out with all the forcefulness of a Mack Truck.
But the closeness. It threw things off. And--
"Aim isn't a shot. It's a precursor to a shot," Tieria said, shocked at the smoothness of his voice. At the content of his words. At-- "But I find myself at a disadvantage. You know my name, but I do not know yours. And if you have, in fact, heard of me, you know I like to have my facts straight." What was he doing? The alcohol; it had to be the alcohol. If not his own, then the whiskey he was vicariously imbibing.
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Grabbing the drink out of the other man's hand, he took a sip. "Or maybe you would have, if you've been drinking these all night."
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"That's the first," he said, shocking himself again with his own honesty. "And had you introduced yourself and asked for the time, I would have given it to you. Common courtesy." He wrote the drink off as a lost cause. Instead, he asked, "I was not, however, aware that I was so famous -- or perhaps infamous -- here in Reggio Calabria. So much so that even my personality is apparently common knowledge." His eyes narrowed slightly. "Could I ask where you've learned this useful information?"
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"But you don't really like strangers, do you?" Lockon drew back, shifting to lean against the wall next to Tieria. "Or else you think the wall is more comfortable to lean on than chairs are to sit in." Lockon glanced at the man out of the corner of his eye. "Though privacy is useful."
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His back had not been touching the wall before, ramrod straight and poised for best cervical angle, but Lockon's leaning looked comfortable. Tieria leaned into the wall slightly, allowing a shoulder and triceps to hold him there. The scent of whiskey grew stronger.
"I noticed you skirted my question," he finished, not allowing the more relaxed position to tempt him into truly relaxing his muscles. That would be asking for trouble. His eyes remained locked on his companion, almost ignoring the room at large. It would be fatal for his body to follow suit.
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"I assume you are here, too, on business? Or perhaps at the behest of an associate?" he asked, his eyes seeming to be asking something further of this question, his posture more tense.
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He took another sip at Tieria's drink. "I wouldn't be drinking if this were business instead of pleasure."
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Tieria smirked slightly. "Though I must admit this is not my particular event, either. I would not be here if I did not feel a stirring need to make sure things do not occur."
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Lockon waved a waiter over, and deposited the glass. "Things, hm? I suppose, with both Families here..." He shook his head. "Hopefully not. And as for my friend, people of his class sometimes have to sacrifice what they'd like to do for what they need to do." As the waiter stepped out of hearing range, he shifted his position, learning against the wall to face Tieria. "It's especially not a good idea to drink on the job, in my line of work. Good aim is useless if your hands aren't steady."
He stretched. "Besides! I'm Irish. Even at a party like this, a few drinks isn't going to hurt."
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