[sunday_reveries] Prompts for 10/10 - 10/17
Picture prompt
Elle had always hated these little social events her father forced her to go to. At least two times a year Primatech Paper would throw a fundraiser to help cement their good standing in the community and to make sure nobody would question any activities that didn’t exactly go along with those of a normal paper company. Bob Bishop’s personal favorite and one that, in turn, made him a personal favorite of the mayor and police chief, was the New York Police and Fire Widow’s and Children’s Fund. She knew these little soirees were for a good cause, and essential if the New York branch of the Company wanted to stay open, but that didn’t mean she had to enjoy them. No, they just meant she had to get dressed up, smile and play the dutiful daughter. Something she only ever managed to do for about an hour before finally retreating to the bar for a drink. Then she’d find a quiet corner somewhere and watch the people milling about the room, although she was never quite able to keep the contempt out of her eyes when she did.
Rich people, pretending like they really knew or care what fund they were giving money to this week, would throw on their very best clothes (always something they’d just bought that day) and insist they’d had it for years. “Just pulled it out of the closet this morning and it still fit. Can you believe it?” Or people who wanted to pretend they were rich. Who’d buy a dress for $30 before sewing in a designer label so nobody would know just how far down the ladder they really were.
Year after year, event after event, they were all the same. The same boring obnoxious people telling the same stories that nobody thought were interesting to begin with and time hasn’t made them any better. It’s almost over, though. For the last half hour or so Elle had wandering the perimeter of the room, the end of a candy cane stuck in her mouth as she sucked it down to a sharp little point before finally biting it off. Her eyes barely left the clock as she waited for minute. That was when this stupid party ended and she could go back to her room. Shuck the dress and pull on her pajamas. Something that, boring as it was, seemed infinitely more exciting than anything going on here.
Her pace slowed, however, when out of the corner of her eye she caught one of the men by the bar looking at her. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen him doing it, and he wasn’t the first one she’d caught tonight, but he was different than the others. The others who blatantly stared at her whether they’d brought a date or not. She’d always loved watching their wives or girlfriends elbow them, trying to hide their anger when they saw their dates staring at the petite blonde in the tight black dress. This one, though, was either a lot more smooth than the others, or he was shy. Every time she turned to look at him he’d drop his gaze, suddenly become very interested in that drink in his hand.
The candy cane in her own hand suddenly became just another weapon in her arsenal as she drew it along her bottom lip, tongue flicking out to swirl around the end of the hard candy. She never took her eyes off him while she did it, studying him almost like a bug in a jar. The closely cropped salt and pepper hair that was still erring on the side of pepper, the startling and almost unnatural blue of his eyes not unlike her own, and that boyish smile she’d seen on his face earlier that night (alright, so he hadn’t been the only one staring). It was a very appealing package, she couldn’t deny that.
Like most of the men here, Elle was unabashed in her staring, not bothering to look away at all, even when one of the guests came up to her to say goodnight. She merely nodded and gave a weak, rather forced smile and let them go on their merry way. Her attention completely focused on him, she didn’t miss it when he turned back to look at her, but this time their eyes locked and she managed to hold his gaze this time. Lips curving up in a triumphant smile, she slowly began crossing the room towards him, hips swaying side to side. Maybe something good would come from this stupid benefit after all.
As ever, Don is heyboxershorts and is used with permission and tons of <3. Bob isn't binding on any particular muse. This could just be a completely au piece, or it could be set in the new "sleep in the fire" verse.
Elle had always hated these little social events her father forced her to go to. At least two times a year Primatech Paper would throw a fundraiser to help cement their good standing in the community and to make sure nobody would question any activities that didn’t exactly go along with those of a normal paper company. Bob Bishop’s personal favorite and one that, in turn, made him a personal favorite of the mayor and police chief, was the New York Police and Fire Widow’s and Children’s Fund. She knew these little soirees were for a good cause, and essential if the New York branch of the Company wanted to stay open, but that didn’t mean she had to enjoy them. No, they just meant she had to get dressed up, smile and play the dutiful daughter. Something she only ever managed to do for about an hour before finally retreating to the bar for a drink. Then she’d find a quiet corner somewhere and watch the people milling about the room, although she was never quite able to keep the contempt out of her eyes when she did.
Rich people, pretending like they really knew or care what fund they were giving money to this week, would throw on their very best clothes (always something they’d just bought that day) and insist they’d had it for years. “Just pulled it out of the closet this morning and it still fit. Can you believe it?” Or people who wanted to pretend they were rich. Who’d buy a dress for $30 before sewing in a designer label so nobody would know just how far down the ladder they really were.
Year after year, event after event, they were all the same. The same boring obnoxious people telling the same stories that nobody thought were interesting to begin with and time hasn’t made them any better. It’s almost over, though. For the last half hour or so Elle had wandering the perimeter of the room, the end of a candy cane stuck in her mouth as she sucked it down to a sharp little point before finally biting it off. Her eyes barely left the clock as she waited for minute. That was when this stupid party ended and she could go back to her room. Shuck the dress and pull on her pajamas. Something that, boring as it was, seemed infinitely more exciting than anything going on here.
Her pace slowed, however, when out of the corner of her eye she caught one of the men by the bar looking at her. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen him doing it, and he wasn’t the first one she’d caught tonight, but he was different than the others. The others who blatantly stared at her whether they’d brought a date or not. She’d always loved watching their wives or girlfriends elbow them, trying to hide their anger when they saw their dates staring at the petite blonde in the tight black dress. This one, though, was either a lot more smooth than the others, or he was shy. Every time she turned to look at him he’d drop his gaze, suddenly become very interested in that drink in his hand.
The candy cane in her own hand suddenly became just another weapon in her arsenal as she drew it along her bottom lip, tongue flicking out to swirl around the end of the hard candy. She never took her eyes off him while she did it, studying him almost like a bug in a jar. The closely cropped salt and pepper hair that was still erring on the side of pepper, the startling and almost unnatural blue of his eyes not unlike her own, and that boyish smile she’d seen on his face earlier that night (alright, so he hadn’t been the only one staring). It was a very appealing package, she couldn’t deny that.
Like most of the men here, Elle was unabashed in her staring, not bothering to look away at all, even when one of the guests came up to her to say goodnight. She merely nodded and gave a weak, rather forced smile and let them go on their merry way. Her attention completely focused on him, she didn’t miss it when he turned back to look at her, but this time their eyes locked and she managed to hold his gaze this time. Lips curving up in a triumphant smile, she slowly began crossing the room towards him, hips swaying side to side. Maybe something good would come from this stupid benefit after all.
As ever, Don is heyboxershorts and is used with permission and tons of <3. Bob isn't binding on any particular muse. This could just be a completely au piece, or it could be set in the new "sleep in the fire" verse.