(Untitled)

[danteebonyivory]

Who: Dante and Trish
What: Dante is avoiding the masquerade. He's in the park with a bottle of Jack Daniels that he lifted from a store, brooding over the whole shooting-Matt affair. Let's pretend it hasn't been as long as it has, okay?
Where: One of the parks, in a garden.
When: During the masquerade.
Rating: PG-13 because I've already dropped

Comments

[fluer_de_foudre]

It was easy to forget. Surrounded by flowers and lights and music that seemed to make aching things ebb away. But it was all only so temporary. The faces hidden and clear there were all haunted with the knowledge of what lay beyond, or rather, the lack thereof. Most of them had gone there to forget or play ignorant, or to shoulder something aside from their every day and slip into something else altogether. She wondered which of those many reasons she had taken for an excuse

[danteebonyivory]

Dante hadn't expected to hear a voice outside of his own thoughts. Especially not hers. He looked up to meet her gaze and couldn't stop the astonished blink. Had she left the warehouse in that? No, she must have changed into it somewhere else; he would have noticed if she had been wearing the gown before leaving

[fluer_de_foudre]

He had noted the change to her appearance. Even though he said nothing, his features told her enough. Taking the bottle to her lips, she only gave him a small shrug of her shoulders. A bottle of booze versus a lady's possession. Dante wasn't a ladies' man, per se, but he was honest. And she was inclined to agree. The bottle was warm from being cradled in his hand for however long he had been nursing it, the liquid tepid. Even if it were ice cold it would still burn. She sat at the ledge to the bed of flowers as a familiar trail of spice and fire cascaded warmly down her throat. It was much better than sugar infused punch gone bad

[danteebonyivory]

Dante couldn't help but give Trish a half-way amused look at her reaction. It was the closest he would get to an agreement, and that was enough for Dante to feel that he was justified in his observation. He watched her take a drink from the bottle and found himself strangely fixated with the way the liquid flowed over her lips into her mouth. It wasn't anything new--he had seen her drink at least a thousand times--but in that gown it was just as stunning as the rest of her

[fluer_de_foudre]

A single note left her, a mixture between bittersweet amusement and relearned nostalgia. "Of course I remember," she smiled in spite of herself. Of course she would remember those words that he said, but sometimes it was just nice to have a little reminder. There were no more glaring neon lights every night to spell it out for her. It seemed that, no matter how confusing the situation was with how to interpret certain actions, at least that part was reasonably clear. That still left the other side. And that mirroring paradox was not so pleasant or optimistic

[danteebonyivory]

The relief in her was obvious. Despite all of the emotions present in them both, her relief was most important. His lips turned upward in a genuine half-smile as he handed her the bottle, this time declining the mask in exchange. It suited her better, anyway.

Dante simply watched her with the liquor. Relieved or otherwise, the woman was clearly lost in her own thoughts, and he figured she would come out with it sooner or later. Fortunately, he didn't have to wait very long--a few minutes of silence, and the words were out of her.

And the words nearly floored him. He wasn't sure if it was because he was being reprimanded, or if it was because she was being so goddamn earnest, but he found himself speechless for several beats, staring at her. Finally, softly, he managed, "Thank you

[fluer_de_foudre]

She wasn't sure how her words would have been received, even if she didn't actually think over it until after it had been spoken and taken in turn. In the end there was no reason to take any of it back. She could have predicted his reactions to be the same as they had been before, quiet or withdrawn or avoidant. Instead, it was different, almost unconventional, but not out of place. It had reached him. She wasn't sure how to respond to the new expression of gratitude at first, coming from him in the way it did. She could have even imagined it. But the feeling remained long after

[danteebonyivory]

Dante found himself extremely grateful that Trish followed him on the change of subject. Sharing his feelings was difficult business. He'd much rather take on a pack of Shadows than talk about the deepest workings of his own heart. That's what the machismo was for: so he wouldn't have to.

The two had had their feelings moment, and that was enough.

Trish reached up and lowered the mask as she described the experience. He couldn't help but smirk a bit at the mention of the boy. "So he's still alive. That's good." That was all he had to say; Trish had been the one to connect with Norio, not himself. After the whole drama with Ema, connection was not high on Dante's priorities list.

Internal negativity on his part aside, however, Trish did seem to have honestly enjoyed herself regardless of being outside of her element. And for that, he was glad. She deserved that much.

And with a good-natured command, she started to drag him into whatever experience she had enjoyed at the ball.

"Wait, I owe you?" He let her pull him up to his feet.

[fluer_de_foudre]

What more could she do? Given her persistence, even Trish would have believed that it was enough to convey some desire or want. Maybe it was a childish trait. But all audiences alike seemed to take to dancing in some form of another. He did dance. He even danced with her now and then. But that was of a different sort. One where leather and hard edges, steel and ultraviolet, clashed best to a chaotic dissonant symphony

[danteebonyivory]

He had been prepared for an argument. At the very least, he expected her to persist in her argument. The woman was stubborn, that much he knew from past arguments. This was the woman who wouldn't stop until they went on a midnight stroll past the Church, for Christ's sake.

But strangely she didn't argue. She didn't persist. She just gave him a dejected look, stated she understood, released his hand, and started away.

Dante hadn't expected that. Furthermore, he hadn't expected it to feel like he'd been kicked in the stomach. Even without overly developed sensitivity, Dante realized he'd said the wrong thing. And he honestly regretted it.

He reached out and caught her arm before she got too far away from him, making sure not to be too rough with her when he pulled her back towards him. "But since you went through all the trouble with the dress, I'll make an exception." A small smile. How's that?"

[fluer_de_foudre]

She was honestly surprised. Her conceding hadn't been so well planned that some action would warrant the reaction he gave her in the end. Not that she was complaining. It saved her the pensive frustration that would have inevitably ensued if he had indeed let her go. She could have been more persistent, but eventually pride, as well as the reasons why, would be the safeguard from making her into a confused fool

[danteebonyivory]

He almost replied with a shit grin and a smart comment when she asked if he was sure. Of course he was sure; he wouldn't have offered if he weren't. He wasn't entirely sure why, but he knew he wanted to dance with her to keep her from looking so damn disappointed. He didn't like the way his stomach sank when she did