mind if i cut in? [victor]

[Natalie Makena]

NATALIE MAKENA

The benefit was horribly stuffy. Natalie had spent several years of her life going to these things, talking to all the right people, giving that easy practiced smile to the right people, holding on the arm of a usually-extremely-temporary date, and they had never been fun but this one was absolutely horrible. It’d likely only been an hour and a half since she’d stepped into the banquet hall in her black dress, but it felt like five or six swimming through the crowds of people obviously far too concerned with the money and publicity they’d get from this particular benefit, or the pretty lady (or guy) they were talking up at the bar. Someone was smoking, or had smoked, making her eyes water as she slipped from one person to the next with a distant smile, ontop of the drinks—that weren’t even that good, by the way, the bartender was obviously more interested in the potential stands he could get out of the night’s end than the drinks he was making. She was tired of smiling to politician after politician, of bone-headed celebrity to bone-headed celebrity; she was tired of waltzing around from the dance floor to the bar back to the dance-floor trying to find her mark, trying to find the people that her intel had given her information on.

She wanted desperately to leave.

But she couldn’t. Not yet. Fifteen more minutes of searching through this last group of people by the bar, and then she’d leave. If she didn’t find someone worth charming, she would leave. That was it. The banquet was ending soon anyways. Maybe.

At least the music was good. The orchestra of strings and the piano in the background switched to something that she recognized from a movie she had seen very recently—she glanced down at her program clenched in her fingers—a song called ‘Mind if I Cut in?’. It was pretty and eerie in the very least, the highlight of the night if she was being completely honest with herself, and she tuned out the chattering of the people around her as she made her way over to the bar and slid into a seat, giving the bartender a soft smile as she carefully scoped out the last of the crowd she hadn’t had time to set eyes on yet. She turned her head, pretending to brush her curly hair over her shoulder to smile at someone off in the distance, and—

—of course.

Natalie’s eyes narrowed as a man, he practically stunk of arrogance, a few barseats over slid his drink back towards the bartender with a small smile, and she didn’t miss the hundred-dollar bill hidden half under the coaster. Now, that was interesting because she’d scoped out the drinks and she knew that there was nothing here worth that much, especially in that discrete way. Natalie looked away, mind at a whirl, already guessing what it was for because of course she had to see that, she couldn’t just have looked the other way, she had to look back as bartender discretely took the money, began to stir another drink, and

—yep.

There it was. Natalie let out a long sigh, straightening in her chair uncomfortably as the bartender poured a very small vial of liquid into the already full drink that she could just make out from her seat despite his back being turned. She gave a tight smile the man who had sat beside her, who had obviously been trying to get her attention for the past hour (and she had steadily ignored), and stood, clearing her throat and began to collect her things. She knew where that drink was going to go, and it certainly wasn’t going back to that man who had paid the bill—probably to some poor girl already drunk out of her senses—and while Natalie felt for receiver of the drink, it wasn’t her business to get involved. The girl stood, heels clacking on the wooden floors as she began to weave her way back through the crowd. It wasn’t her responsibility to intercept that drink before it got wherever it was going, it was bad luck that she had seen, but it was not on her to—

Natalie practically growled, mentally berating herself for getting involved as she gave a sudden turn and made a beeline back towards the bar, dress swishing behind her like the tail of an annoyed cat. She reached the bar, ignoring the man from before that had tried to get her attention, straining her neck and trying to find the bartender and his delivery. It took her several panicked seconds to locate the man, already weaving through the crowd towards the back near the orchestra, and Natalie none-too-gently pushed herself off the man and hurried after the bartender and his platter of drinks.

She nearly lost him several times in the crowd, having to snarl several men (and one woman) off before they distracted her in her search. She lost him for a second here, before finding him again, white-suit visible amongst the red dresses of a pair twin’s outfits, and pushed her way after, eyes locked on the gleaming cup on the platter and—the bartender stopped in front of a small group of men and woman, smiling at them as he scanned the faces, mouth moving as he obviously called out a name, a delivery, for some poor sap who wouldn’t know what hit them and—

Natalie’s hand tightened around the arm of the bartender, smiling up at him with a flash of far-too-clenched teeth, nails digging in to the white coat, heel digging into his foot. “My fiancé,” she said, softly, ignoring the stares, “my fiancé told me you had a drink for me, sir?”

[Victor Chase Hawthorne]

Victor should have been used to attending events like these but truth be told he found them to be quite dry and dull and as excruciating as getting your teeth pulled. Vaguely, he wondered how these people could enjoy waltzing around in expensive designer outfits, displaying their wealth and status in the community. He was somewhat new to this, though he’d been in the acting business for several years now it still amazed him how materialistic people really were. He was the type of guy that only bought things out of necessity, he didn’t care for attention. His friends often teased him for being such a simple guy with simple needs, but why would he want to be another plastic celebrity?

He’d admit that he did enjoy the socializing part of the banquet, he liked to meet new people, but some of the guests here failed to provide decent intellectual conversation which made was disappointing. It was because of that that he found himself flitting across the room from time to time in search of someone to give him some sort of stimulating conversation, or at least find someone who wasn’t completely narcissistic and only interested in talking about themselves—he couldn’t stand those types, and unfortunately for him that was the majority of the people who were in attendance. Was he the only one that actually came from a humble background? It certainly seemed like it. But he knew how to play the part, if he had to, and it certainly wouldn’t hurt to chat up these high-strung high-class people. His publicist would have definitely encouraged it as he frequented reminded Victor that the more people he knew the better off his career would be.

So, he took in a deep breath and exhaled it before jumping into the fray. In no time he found himself in the company of a young model who reeked of some highly expensive perfume and had a habit of talking about herself in the third person. She was very pretty, as most models were, but her distant stare somewhat alarmed him—it was as if there was nothing going on in that head of hers, as if she was just existing but not actually living, if that even made sense. It was for this unsettling reason that he was forced to find another dance partner.

The young man waltzed across the dance floor for a while, talking it up and even getting a few phone numbers in the process. His publicist would be very happy with that, it never hurt to keep up appearances and it certainly didn’t hurt to know people, especially in this business.

Eventually Victor found himself in the presence of a small group of men and women, only half paying attention to the conversation more like gossip that was taking place around him, interjecting every now and then when a question was shot his way. A bartender shuffled towards them, eyes dancing across each of their faces but before he could hand the drink out he was caught off guard by a young woman who appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and interrupted him. It was a curious scene that she was making, all eyes were on her and the bartender, straining to see who would make the next move.

He wasn’t too interested in the interaction until his blue gaze narrowed in on the slight fizz at the bottom of the glass. Whatever had been poured into the drink had almost completely dissolved by now and it was indiscernible, but there were still a few bubbles rising to the top that made the drink suspicious to him. Taking a step forward, he put his hand on the girl’s shoulder, “I don’t really think that’s something you should be drinking..” He said so quietly it was almost a whisper.

[/justify][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote]

[Natalie Makena]

NATALIE MAKENA

The bartender and Natalie were having a rather intense stare down. Natalie kept her small smile on her face with a hint of steel in her gaze; tightening her grip of nails into the man’s arm slightly when his eyes narrowed in the slightest.

Natalie had seen the small group. She couldn’t have not. There was one girl and three men in the group, all under thirty. The girl, who she had put money on the drink being for due to her rather expensive diamond earrings (how could she not notice them?), and was rather… gorgeous, had bright red hair and blue eyes. She wasn’t far from Natalie’s height either, so she was momentarily confused when the bartender hesitated. She looked near enough to the description he was bound to have gotten, so why—

He was after one of the men. That was the most likely reason.

Natalie wasn’t an expert, but based on the way the man who had paid was flirting up that young actress earlier, she was pretty sure he was straight. So if it wasn’t about sex, that left revenge, power, or money as the motive—humanity’s base desires. Either of the three were far more difficult to help determine the target of the drink; Natalie’s eyes subtly flickering from one man to the next in the quick succession.
Motive and target aside, several seconds had passed at this point. Several valuable seconds. She could practically see the gears in the bartender’s brain moving, working out that she wasn’t actually sent by the money-man, that the only reason she would ask for the drink is because she knew, and if she knew—

An arm suddenly touched her lightly on the shoulder, and it took considerable amounts of Natalie’s willpower not to jump out of her skin, not having noticed the bearer of the arm step up beside her. It was one of the men from the group, one of the younger ones, and he glanced down at her, voice so quiet she had to strain to hear him over the orchestra.

“I don’t really think that’s something you should be drinking…”

The tips of Natalie’s lips curled into a smirk for the briefest of seconds—which, for her, was practically rolling on the ground laughing, as if there was one thing Natalie prided herself 100% on, it was her poker face. Oh, this was good. Natalie’s head turned impeccably giving him a once-over in the corner of her eye, before turning her head back to the bartender, smirk eased back into her icy smile. Had she not been so afraid determined not to screw whatever she was getting into up, the girl might’ve turned, patted him on the arm, and said something along the lines of, ‘oh, I like you’, because really, she was willing to bet money that out of all the people she’d met tonight, he would have been the only one to noticed the faint remains of the bubbles in the glass.

He was the target. Natalie was almost sure of it--by the way the bartender looked at him, (had he heard what he'd said?), which meant that if he was smart enough to notice, then this was a very, very delicate situation--for everyone--and Natalie had to keep the situation controlled. She could see the gears turning, the mind moving, in the bartender. If she had seen, why hadn’t she gone directly to security or confronted him about it outright? [because she didn’t want anyone to know she was here]. He knew that she knew, and she knew that he was learning—she could see it in his eyes. He was a smart one. Probably made a fortune off of doing this stuff at parties.

She could also see in his eyes that he was afraid.

Not of her, not of her and her nails digging into his arms and her icy stare and the young man behind her who had just spoken, but of the man that had paid him. The man who was sitting at a bar, subtly glancing their way, and this wasn’t about money, this wasn’t about sex, this was about power.

Oh, monsieur, Natalie thought to the man behind her. Who the hell did you piss off?

Natalie turned to the young man behind her, small smile on her lips, head tilted. Play this right, Makena. “I would love to,” she said in a pleased voice and a sentence that made absolutely no sense considering what he had just said to her, “but I have to thank this man for the drink and make sure my fiancé’s paid for the expensive drink—he tends to forget things like that—why don’t you go get your things and I’ll meet up with you by the door?”

She finished with another smile, hoping that the quiet comment he had made before had gone unheard over the orchestra to the others of the group, and added a little pleading to her eyes—just for a moment—in hopes that he got the hint and did what she asked.

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victor doesn't actually have to do what she asks if you don't want. ^^ just an idea, and definitely don't if you don't think it fits with his character.