The riot inside keeps trying to visit me
Category: Pink Sheep RPG
Pretend this happened around noon. Doesn't matter that most of us were at work; I'm detail-oriented like that.
Stephen was restless. Ever since his failed attempt at introducing Cassie to his parents- well, one of his parents- he'd been ambling about aimlessly. It wasn't a manly trait, but he wanted to talk about it. Or at least smoke it away Ackers was out- he wasn't in the mood to be made fun of, no matter how well meaning it was. He couldn't talk to Cassie about it. He'd already put her through enough by just taking her to Carisbrooke and forcing her to mingle with his mother.
Fortunately, there was one person who would give him her thoughts on the subject and already knew the story. And luckily enough, she had a brother who was not only one of his best mates, but kept a steady supply of ganja on hand.
That was the reason he found himself in the office suite at White Chapel after having checked in with Astoria's assistant. The door was ajar, so he rapped once and poked his head in.
"Your minion said you were free," he said in greeting, lips twitching in a small smirk.
"Define 'free'," Astoria said, dark eyes lifting from the file before her. Her lips twitched ever so slightly at the man peeking through her door, though as her mind shifted away from the gallery's accounts, she had to wonder what Stephen Cornfoot was about. She couldn't recall the last time she'd seen him. That wasn't saying much, however. She couldn't recall the last time she had seen much of anyone. Her social life was nothing like it used to be as much as she'd been working.
"Maybe he didn't say free. Maybe he said you were working far too hard, and that I was just the right person to put a stop to it," Stephen said as he entered the room. He quirked a brow at the heavy ledger atop the desk and all the numbers written within. "Enjoying yourself?"
"Yes. I'm perfectly thrilled to be reading this Gobbledegook." A brow lifted in a delicate arch, though amusement lit her dark eyes as she pushed away from her desk and clipped around. "And you, kind sir? May I ask when you found yourself with such a kind heart as to deliver me from the terrors of hard work?"
"Right now?" he said, holding out a hand to her. "What do you say, Rory? How about lunch with an old friend?"
Her lips curled slightly and she nodded her head. "I suppose I could step away for a few minutes," she said, slipping her hand in his. As with most people, she had to tip up on her toes to brush a kiss to his cheek.
She knew there was more to this visit than met the eye, but it would hold. "Where to, old friend?"
"Paris?" he asked as he pressed a kiss to her soft cheek. "I've an old favorite there that I doubt you've been to before."
"Somewhere in Paris I haven't been?" she asked, brows raising. "This shall be a treat then."
Stephen merely smirked and pulled out his wand to Apparate them away with a 'crack!'
The pair reappeared in an alley off the Rue de Charrone, a stone's through from the site where the Bastille once stood. The massive fortress was long since destroyed, and only the July Column marked the spot where the legendary prison once stood.
The twelfth arrondissment wasn't home to any of the city's fashion or culture centers, so Stephen was fairly confident Astoria didn't traverse these rues very often. It was a shame because, in Stephen's opinion, the lesser-known streets were among the best the city had to offer.
"Bienvenue à Chez Paul." he said as he led her out of the alley and across the street to the worn, tiny brasserie.
"And so you have managed it," she murmured, dark eyes darting around. "I don't even recognize the area. Well done, Mr. Cornfoot," she said, lips curling slightly when she looked up at her escort.
"I aim to shock and surprise, Mademoiselle Greengrass," he replied, lips twitching as he reached out to open the door for her.
"When you wish it," she murmured, more to herself than him. Nothing was said while they were seated, given menus and drinks, but as soon as they were left alone again, Astoria set her own menu down and fixed her gaze on Stephen. "I know you haven't brought me to Paris for the food. What's wrong?"
"Who said anything was wrong?"
"You haven't sought me out in longer than I can remember and men rarely make calls that are purely social." She raised a brow at him. "No matter how well bred they are."
"And it's beyond the realm of possibility for me to have seen the error of my ways and wish to remedy that as soon as possible?" he asked, raising his own brow in rebuttal.
"It's possible," she allowed, delicate features softening somewhat at the mask he was presenting. It would do no good to put him on the defensive. "Though unlikely. It may have been a long time since we've said hello, which should likely be remedied more often than either of us are wont to make it happen, but I've known you for as long as I can remember, Stephen. I'm not completely inept at reading you."
"No, you're not," he admitted, falling silent as the waitress presented the wine for his approval. He tasted the offering, letting the fruity, acidic bouquet wash over his palate, and nodded his agreement. Silently, two glasses were poured, and the woman disappeared as silently as she'd appeared.
Stephen took another sip and waited a moment before he spoke again. "I took Cassie to Carisbrooke."
Cassie would be Cassandra Montgomery and Astoria recognized both the name and her connection to Stephen. The woman was only a year younger than herself and they'd crossed one another's paths many times, but it was the fact that she'd seen the blond woman with Stephen at the masquerade she'd hosted at White Chapel, combined with this tiny bit of news that he'd just shared, that made everything click into place.
She sighed and shifted to slip her hand into his across the table and gave it a gentle squeeze. "How terrible was it?"
He snorted and squeezed her hand gently. "We didn't even make it to dinner or meeting Father. Mother was her usual charming self," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"I'm sorry, Stephen," she sad softly. Elena Cornfoot was something of a female version of her father's brother. It was no surprise the two had always gotten on rather famously. The Mistress of Carisbrooke had always been perfectly pleasant to herself, for she considered her to be of the right stock from the right family, but Astoria had never understood her and Robert Cornfoot's obvious disdain for their youngest son. She knew her own immediate family was somewhat different than many other uppercrust pure families, but blood, of all things, should be the most important thing.
Slipping out of her seat, she slid into the booth next to Stephen. It was unorthodox, but they were nearly family. Their family's estates bordered one another and they'd all but grown up together. Reaching up, she cupped his cheek with one hand and pressed a soft kiss to the other. "You're a good man. I'm sorry your family is shite to you," she said softly, making sure he met her gaze before dropping her hand. "You can share mine," she offered, tiny smile hovering at the corner of her mouth. "Mother would be thrilled to meet Cassandra."
Stephen's lips twitched, and he ducked his head to press a kiss to the top of Astoria's head. "I'm half surprised she hasn't run yet." The unspoken ending- like the last time- went silent, but not unnoticed by either. Michael, and Astoria by extension, had also felt the sting of his last romantic entanglement gone wrong.
"Obviously she has much better sense," Astoria countered, brow rising. "And I'd expect nothing less from a daughter of Slytherin, and a descendant of the Rosier line besides." It was true the blood and family were not so important to her as many others of the nobility, but she'd still be inundated by society; family and blood was important. Worth dying for. For the right reasons.
She pat his knee then, lips twitching. "I'm sure Cassandra knows that she's gotten herself quite the catch."
"I am a rather stunning specimen of masculinity, aren't I?" he quipped, unable to keep the smirk off his face.
Her nose crinkled. "Am I really to answer that?"
"Aw, come on, Rory," he said, nudging her gently in the side with his elbow. "Hasn't my self esteem taken enough blows lately?"
"Perhaps for today," she allowed, gaze flicking over his features. There was the smirk, the light and humor he used to ward off other thoughts, but he had brought her to Paris out of nowhere. There had to be more to it than he was letting on.
"Tell me about Cassandra," she said then. "Tell me about this woman you attempted to introduce to your family."
He smiled then, a small twitching of the lips that was unlike his usual smirk. It lit up his face, making his blue eyes dance with actual [i don't know what they're dancing with. i'll figure that out later]. "She's different from the others, Rory," he said, glancing down at his companion. "You know, she doesn't care that I'm not a perfect pureblood, or that I'm still friends with my ex-girlfriend. She's genuine, and that's... it's great. She's great."
"Great," Astoria repeated, brow rising. Her expression was soft despite though, humor in her eyes and playing at the upturned corners of her mouth. "How very eloquent, Stephen."
Stephen gave his companion a look, one brow raised. "Were you expecting a Shakespearean sonnet about her fair blonde hair, eyes as blue as the summer skies, and skin as soft as a rose's petal?"
"That was actually rather good," Astoria said, eyes bright. Her features softened moments later and she laid a hand on his arm. "It sounds like you truly care for her very much. I'm glad you're happy again." She wasn't unaware of what he'd been through, what they'd all been through not too long ago. It'd been the hardest on him though; he'd lost the most in the end. "I'd love to meet her sometime. Formally, as your girlfriend," she clarified with a small smile.
"Didn't I introduce you- formally, as my girlfriend- at Lisa's wedding reception?" he asked. The party had been in September, and they'd been together since July... or somewhere thereabouts. They were soon approaching their one year anniversary, and that knowledge was poking the romantic in him into making it something special, something memorable.
Which would explain why, in his spare time, he had visited the London branches of Tiffany's, Harry Winston, and Cartier.
"You did, but it's more now, isn't it?" she said, canny gaze not missing the thoughts passing in the nuances of his expressions as they shifted. What those thoughts where, she couldn't say, but he was about something.
His lips twitched upwards. "That obvious, Rors?"
"You took her to see your family," she pointed out, tiny smile at the edges of her mouth.
"True. Though I've yet to meet her family." That little fact was something that put a hitch in his plans. It wouldn't do to ask permission to marry their daughter at their first meeting. No, not at all.
"There are plans to then, yes?" she asked, brows rising slightly. Something passed through his gaze, but she wasn't quite sure what it was, or what to ask. "I would imagine that no matter who they are, the worst of the family introductions are out of the way, in any case."
"It's assumed, though we've yet to make concrete ones," he replied. "And I've already met her sister...Alexa, I think. She reminds me a bit of your dear friend, Pansy."
"Meaning she's fabulous?" Astoria queried. "Or perhaps singularly versed on what it is to be a woman of Slytherin?" Her lips curled slightly, brown eyes bright. "Or mayhap it might take awhile until you're of more consideration than the dust bunnies?"
"All of the above," Stephen said, lips twitching at the look in her eyes.
"She sounds positively sweet compared to your relatives, hmm?" She pat his hand gently.
"Compared to my relatives, a rabid manticore is positively sweet."
"Well, there is that," she agreed, grinning.
SUMMARY: Stephen seeks Astoria out to talk about what happened when he took Cassie to meet his family and they catch up.
Pretend this happened around noon. Doesn't matter that most of us were at work; I'm detail-oriented like that.
Stephen was restless. Ever since his failed attempt at introducing Cassie to his parents- well, one of his parents- he'd been ambling about aimlessly. It wasn't a manly trait, but he wanted to talk about it. Or at least smoke it away Ackers was out- he wasn't in the mood to be made fun of, no matter how well meaning it was. He couldn't talk to Cassie about it. He'd already put her through enough by just taking her to Carisbrooke and forcing her to mingle with his mother.
Fortunately, there was one person who would give him her thoughts on the subject and already knew the story. And luckily enough, she had a brother who was not only one of his best mates, but kept a steady supply of ganja on hand.
That was the reason he found himself in the office suite at White Chapel after having checked in with Astoria's assistant. The door was ajar, so he rapped once and poked his head in.
"Your minion said you were free," he said in greeting, lips twitching in a small smirk.
"Define 'free'," Astoria said, dark eyes lifting from the file before her. Her lips twitched ever so slightly at the man peeking through her door, though as her mind shifted away from the gallery's accounts, she had to wonder what Stephen Cornfoot was about. She couldn't recall the last time she'd seen him. That wasn't saying much, however. She couldn't recall the last time she had seen much of anyone. Her social life was nothing like it used to be as much as she'd been working.
"Maybe he didn't say free. Maybe he said you were working far too hard, and that I was just the right person to put a stop to it," Stephen said as he entered the room. He quirked a brow at the heavy ledger atop the desk and all the numbers written within. "Enjoying yourself?"
"Yes. I'm perfectly thrilled to be reading this Gobbledegook." A brow lifted in a delicate arch, though amusement lit her dark eyes as she pushed away from her desk and clipped around. "And you, kind sir? May I ask when you found yourself with such a kind heart as to deliver me from the terrors of hard work?"
"Right now?" he said, holding out a hand to her. "What do you say, Rory? How about lunch with an old friend?"
Her lips curled slightly and she nodded her head. "I suppose I could step away for a few minutes," she said, slipping her hand in his. As with most people, she had to tip up on her toes to brush a kiss to his cheek.
She knew there was more to this visit than met the eye, but it would hold. "Where to, old friend?"
"Paris?" he asked as he pressed a kiss to her soft cheek. "I've an old favorite there that I doubt you've been to before."
"Somewhere in Paris I haven't been?" she asked, brows raising. "This shall be a treat then."
Stephen merely smirked and pulled out his wand to Apparate them away with a 'crack!'
The pair reappeared in an alley off the Rue de Charrone, a stone's through from the site where the Bastille once stood. The massive fortress was long since destroyed, and only the July Column marked the spot where the legendary prison once stood.
The twelfth arrondissment wasn't home to any of the city's fashion or culture centers, so Stephen was fairly confident Astoria didn't traverse these rues very often. It was a shame because, in Stephen's opinion, the lesser-known streets were among the best the city had to offer.
"Bienvenue à Chez Paul." he said as he led her out of the alley and across the street to the worn, tiny brasserie.
"And so you have managed it," she murmured, dark eyes darting around. "I don't even recognize the area. Well done, Mr. Cornfoot," she said, lips curling slightly when she looked up at her escort.
"I aim to shock and surprise, Mademoiselle Greengrass," he replied, lips twitching as he reached out to open the door for her.
"When you wish it," she murmured, more to herself than him. Nothing was said while they were seated, given menus and drinks, but as soon as they were left alone again, Astoria set her own menu down and fixed her gaze on Stephen. "I know you haven't brought me to Paris for the food. What's wrong?"
"Who said anything was wrong?"
"You haven't sought me out in longer than I can remember and men rarely make calls that are purely social." She raised a brow at him. "No matter how well bred they are."
"And it's beyond the realm of possibility for me to have seen the error of my ways and wish to remedy that as soon as possible?" he asked, raising his own brow in rebuttal.
"It's possible," she allowed, delicate features softening somewhat at the mask he was presenting. It would do no good to put him on the defensive. "Though unlikely. It may have been a long time since we've said hello, which should likely be remedied more often than either of us are wont to make it happen, but I've known you for as long as I can remember, Stephen. I'm not completely inept at reading you."
"No, you're not," he admitted, falling silent as the waitress presented the wine for his approval. He tasted the offering, letting the fruity, acidic bouquet wash over his palate, and nodded his agreement. Silently, two glasses were poured, and the woman disappeared as silently as she'd appeared.
Stephen took another sip and waited a moment before he spoke again. "I took Cassie to Carisbrooke."
Cassie would be Cassandra Montgomery and Astoria recognized both the name and her connection to Stephen. The woman was only a year younger than herself and they'd crossed one another's paths many times, but it was the fact that she'd seen the blond woman with Stephen at the masquerade she'd hosted at White Chapel, combined with this tiny bit of news that he'd just shared, that made everything click into place.
She sighed and shifted to slip her hand into his across the table and gave it a gentle squeeze. "How terrible was it?"
He snorted and squeezed her hand gently. "We didn't even make it to dinner or meeting Father. Mother was her usual charming self," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"I'm sorry, Stephen," she sad softly. Elena Cornfoot was something of a female version of her father's brother. It was no surprise the two had always gotten on rather famously. The Mistress of Carisbrooke had always been perfectly pleasant to herself, for she considered her to be of the right stock from the right family, but Astoria had never understood her and Robert Cornfoot's obvious disdain for their youngest son. She knew her own immediate family was somewhat different than many other uppercrust pure families, but blood, of all things, should be the most important thing.
Slipping out of her seat, she slid into the booth next to Stephen. It was unorthodox, but they were nearly family. Their family's estates bordered one another and they'd all but grown up together. Reaching up, she cupped his cheek with one hand and pressed a soft kiss to the other. "You're a good man. I'm sorry your family is shite to you," she said softly, making sure he met her gaze before dropping her hand. "You can share mine," she offered, tiny smile hovering at the corner of her mouth. "Mother would be thrilled to meet Cassandra."
Stephen's lips twitched, and he ducked his head to press a kiss to the top of Astoria's head. "I'm half surprised she hasn't run yet." The unspoken ending- like the last time- went silent, but not unnoticed by either. Michael, and Astoria by extension, had also felt the sting of his last romantic entanglement gone wrong.
"Obviously she has much better sense," Astoria countered, brow rising. "And I'd expect nothing less from a daughter of Slytherin, and a descendant of the Rosier line besides." It was true the blood and family were not so important to her as many others of the nobility, but she'd still be inundated by society; family and blood was important. Worth dying for. For the right reasons.
She pat his knee then, lips twitching. "I'm sure Cassandra knows that she's gotten herself quite the catch."
"I am a rather stunning specimen of masculinity, aren't I?" he quipped, unable to keep the smirk off his face.
Her nose crinkled. "Am I really to answer that?"
"Aw, come on, Rory," he said, nudging her gently in the side with his elbow. "Hasn't my self esteem taken enough blows lately?"
"Perhaps for today," she allowed, gaze flicking over his features. There was the smirk, the light and humor he used to ward off other thoughts, but he had brought her to Paris out of nowhere. There had to be more to it than he was letting on.
"Tell me about Cassandra," she said then. "Tell me about this woman you attempted to introduce to your family."
He smiled then, a small twitching of the lips that was unlike his usual smirk. It lit up his face, making his blue eyes dance with actual [i don't know what they're dancing with. i'll figure that out later]. "She's different from the others, Rory," he said, glancing down at his companion. "You know, she doesn't care that I'm not a perfect pureblood, or that I'm still friends with my ex-girlfriend. She's genuine, and that's... it's great. She's great."
"Great," Astoria repeated, brow rising. Her expression was soft despite though, humor in her eyes and playing at the upturned corners of her mouth. "How very eloquent, Stephen."
Stephen gave his companion a look, one brow raised. "Were you expecting a Shakespearean sonnet about her fair blonde hair, eyes as blue as the summer skies, and skin as soft as a rose's petal?"
"That was actually rather good," Astoria said, eyes bright. Her features softened moments later and she laid a hand on his arm. "It sounds like you truly care for her very much. I'm glad you're happy again." She wasn't unaware of what he'd been through, what they'd all been through not too long ago. It'd been the hardest on him though; he'd lost the most in the end. "I'd love to meet her sometime. Formally, as your girlfriend," she clarified with a small smile.
"Didn't I introduce you- formally, as my girlfriend- at Lisa's wedding reception?" he asked. The party had been in September, and they'd been together since July... or somewhere thereabouts. They were soon approaching their one year anniversary, and that knowledge was poking the romantic in him into making it something special, something memorable.
Which would explain why, in his spare time, he had visited the London branches of Tiffany's, Harry Winston, and Cartier.
"You did, but it's more now, isn't it?" she said, canny gaze not missing the thoughts passing in the nuances of his expressions as they shifted. What those thoughts where, she couldn't say, but he was about something.
His lips twitched upwards. "That obvious, Rors?"
"You took her to see your family," she pointed out, tiny smile at the edges of her mouth.
"True. Though I've yet to meet her family." That little fact was something that put a hitch in his plans. It wouldn't do to ask permission to marry their daughter at their first meeting. No, not at all.
"There are plans to then, yes?" she asked, brows rising slightly. Something passed through his gaze, but she wasn't quite sure what it was, or what to ask. "I would imagine that no matter who they are, the worst of the family introductions are out of the way, in any case."
"It's assumed, though we've yet to make concrete ones," he replied. "And I've already met her sister...Alexa, I think. She reminds me a bit of your dear friend, Pansy."
"Meaning she's fabulous?" Astoria queried. "Or perhaps singularly versed on what it is to be a woman of Slytherin?" Her lips curled slightly, brown eyes bright. "Or mayhap it might take awhile until you're of more consideration than the dust bunnies?"
"All of the above," Stephen said, lips twitching at the look in her eyes.
"She sounds positively sweet compared to your relatives, hmm?" She pat his hand gently.
"Compared to my relatives, a rabid manticore is positively sweet."
"Well, there is that," she agreed, grinning.
SUMMARY: Stephen seeks Astoria out to talk about what happened when he took Cassie to meet his family and they catch up.