* i need a hero ! {evan}

[VIVIENNE BELLE]

Vivienne could handle this.

This being New York City, moving, Delilah, Luke. All of it. She could handle it. And if she couldn't, there was always a way out, right? Just at the airport only a fifteen minute cab from her new apartment. The movers arrived today with her things, only hours after she did. The city was breathtaking and huge, and different than Los Angeles, but not by much. She could get used to it. And she could handle it, all of it.

So she had dismissed the movers who offered to carry her boxes up to her new apartment, and any protest they put up was quickly halted by a confident Vivienne. Eventually they gave up on trying to convince her and left, back to wherever they were going, while she thought about the reason she was here and sat on one of the three trunks (full of clothing) along with about five other boxes (more clothing and makeup and other personal things). The fourth floor was a bit of a ways away- not just in physical distance, but in Vivienne's mind as well. She was off in her little bubble, only to be awakened by someone ringing the bell at the counter.

It had nothing to do with her, but she realized that she should probably get the things upstairs so she wouldn't be in the way of the other tenants. Unfortunately, the elevator was not operational. Oh well, she could handle this. One at a time, she carried the trunks upstairs, trusting the woman at the front desk to watch her other things, and wondering if maybe her dress was a little too short to be doing this sort of thing and maybe heels weren't the best idea. The trunks had handles, but it was still a lot of work to haul them up four flights of stairs.

When she returned to the lobby, too tired to hardly move, she realized she still had the boxes to carry. But she could handle this. She could handle everything, and it was going to be okay.

Taking a break for a few short seconds, she bought a water bottle out of a vending machine and took a drink from it. It was a good thing it was comfortably cool in the building, otherwise she'd be sweating a lot more than she was. Putting the cap back on and wiping her forehead once, she bent down to pick up the other box.

It wouldn't budge.

She thought maybe it had stuck to the ground somehow, but no. It was just heavy because... oh. The box contained her old projector, some film reels of her favorite movies. The box next to it had her record player with a few albums. She also had an iPod and a DVD player (one in her purse that she brought up with the first trunk, the other in a different box), but Vivienne liked old-fashioned things and she had bought them from an antique shop and kept very good care of them.

But she couldn't left them. Maybe if she wasn't so tired already and the box wasn't so awkward... But those things couldn't change in the next five minutes. She tried a few more times, but eventually slumped over on a chair they had sitting against the window in the lobby.

It was kind of a reality check for Vivienne. Maybe she couldn't handle this. If she couldn't move a box by herself, how would she be able to patch the giant tear she had torn in the middle of the only two people she truly cared about? No, she couldn't cry, that would look ridiculous... after all, it was only a box. But she was a lady, and perhaps ladies didn't need to be completely independent. If only there was some big, stong man here to help her...

[/justify]

{outfit of vivienne probably accidentally showing off her assets have fun with that evan}

[EVAN JACKSON]

If there ever was one, it had been a good day at the orphanage. There were no new children coming in with wet faces and broken hearts and all the ones who had come in in poorcondition were healthy thanks to Evan Jackson's careful attention. He usually tried to spend time getting to know all the kids and hadbecome so close to a few of them that he was tempted to take them home himself. Of course, he couldn't do that now. Evan was alone in the world and if he wanted to father a child, he needed help. Specifically, the nuturing of a mother. He couldn't provide that and he didn't want to leave kids without a mom. That wasn't fair.

Because it was finally warm enough outside, Evan decided to surprise the kids by bringing them down to the beach. He had Brenda take the girls to get whatever cutesy suit they wanted (since there were several teenagers of both genders, Evan knew the girls would want to look "hot". He didn't have to read psychology books to know that) while Evan made sure all the boys had shorts. All the kids were ecstatic; most of them had never been to Long Island. Evan loved all the joy floating around; the orphanage always made him feel like a good person. They loaded two buses and were off.

When they got to the beach, Evan brought out the coolers of sandwiches and drinks and set up umbrellas and chairs. Nothing had to be said before everyone took off, either to swim or run or tan. Brenda went to build a sandcastle with the three toddlers Jake, Anna, and Maria while Evan held one-year-old Harper as she took a nap. Evan was about to doze off himself, the sun and waves making a nice lullaby, when he heard a plop next to him. Evan glanced down to see Adriana, a sixteen-year-old who had been at All Hope since it opened. The two were close and had had a father-daughter relationship since she came in. Adriana looked up and said, "Do you think I'll find a family?" Evan swallowed hard. It was the first time anyone had ever asked him this, and he didn't know how to answer. Evan took a swig of Dr. Pepper before answering. "Well, it depends on what you mean by family. If you mean a mother and father, I think you'll have those sooner than you think. But finding a family? You already have one. Me, Mrs. Brenda, Mr. David, all the other kids. We're your family, Adriana." Evan smiled down at the girl; he had thankfully found the right words to say. Adriana gave Evan a big hug before running off to rejoin the other teens.

And so the day went on, Evan carefully watching over the group, before it was time to go. Everyone was tired and pink, despite Brenda chasing everyone down with sunscreen. Tan lines were compared and everyone was content. Evan knew he had picked the perfect activity and was overjoyed that it had turned out so well. After telling everyone bye, he hoped in a cab and rode home to Jacobs Apartment complex. Evan was ready to plop down on the couch with a mug of coffee and watch some old movie or a crime show. Just as he walked in though, he saw one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. ...In a very compromising position. She was trying to pick up a box and, well, her dress was short....Evan's cheeks turned a little pink(er, since he had been in the sun) and he quickly diverted his eyes and cleared his throat. While he admitted to not minding that view at all, he was a gentleman. He had never seen her before, so he figured she must be the new girl moving in on his floor.

And oh! She needed help! Evan knew a couple of boxes wouldn't be a problem; he kept up with Army-level workouts every other day. He cleared his throat a little louder this time. "Ahem, m'am. Let me get those boxes for you." Evan smiled a little (he smiled more with his eyes than anything), before easily picking the box up. "What do you have in here, bricks?" Winking slightly, Evan stacked another box on top.

"I'm Evan, by the way. Evan Jackson. Fourth floor, which is where these are headed, right?"

notes;; woo fluff. and just for clarification he's wearing jeans and a nice, fitted white shirt to show of those biceps

[VIVIENNE BELLE]

Vivienne had always been a little bit of a flirt, even if she hadn't intended to be. Maybe it was just her voice, or the way she held her eyes sometimes, or the way she pursed her lips. But whatever the case, some men mistook whatever she was doing for flirting, and she either dismissed them or realized what she was doing and continued. It hadn't mattered to her those long years that Delilah was gone, so she was used to just dismissing the thought right away and cutting herself off from everybody.

Even still, she was in a strange city and only likely knew Delilah. So there would be strange men, and she couldn't fully bring herself to trust them. Of course, that hadn't stopped her from wearing the short dress with tights instead of leggings, just in case she found one that was trustworthy enough to-

Apparently, God could read her mind.

When she looked up to see the (indeed) big, strong man offering to help with her boxes, she could barely move. Barely breathe. There was no way this was actually happening, not to Vivienne, not when she didn't deserve it.

But hey, if she was going to apologize, maybe this was a reward from the higher power for attempting to do the right thing for once in her miserable life. And she may as well take advantage of that while she could, right? Right. So she regained her lost composure at the sight of him and smiled. Had he said something? Oh, yes. "No, just a projecta' an some film reels..." Then he stacked the other box on top of it. "And a recor' playa' and some albums..." She wondered, if she held kryptonite up to him, would he drop the boxes? That being the only superhero she really knew that anything about (though she had seen a couple of newer ones like The Avengers, though she didn't understand much of it apart from Hawkeye being her favorite, and she only knew about Superman because it was a cliche), she blushed at the thought and picked up a box that only contained a few nice dreses folded neatly but would still need to be ironed. It was ridiculously light, or maybe that was just how she felt."Yeah, fouth floor. Thank ya so much!" Her very slight Cajun accent that was nearly drowned in Southern from her years there tended to come out when she felt dizzy.

No, she needed to get over herself. He could be some sort of creep who preys on women in short dresses in need of assistance! But then her instincts would tell her that, right? Evan Jackson seemed like a nice guy and no alarms in particular were going off or red flags being raised. "I'm Vivienne. Vivienne Belle. New to New Yohk City an' to this building, a' course."

[/justify]

notes; pretend vivienne had an accent the whole time i just felt like writing it out

[EVAN JACKSON]

The gods must have been smiling down on Evan that day. Here was a beautiful woman moving in not even two rooms down, and they had already met. Evan could tell she was the kind of woman that men checked out all the time, the kind that piqued the attention of both good and bad men. She gave off an inviting charm; Evan didn't know if she knew this, but she had an air of approachability. It came in handy, especially in situations like these. If she had looked like a spiteful person, Evan might not have offered assistance (which was ninety-eight percent lie; Evan liked to help too much). But he could also tell that she had to get the wrong kind of attention, and Evan wasn't sure he liked that. It might have been his inner southern boy manners, Evan wasn't sure. 

Holding the two boxes low so that he could see over them, Evan regarded this woman a bit differently. Record player? Projector? Film reels? Evan grinned. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were into the classics. Vintage things."  Damn, her sweet sounding voice had made Evan lasp back into his own soft, nearly undetectable accent. Growing up in Virginia and spending over a year at Fort Jackson gave you one, for sure. "What's your favorite era? I can never choose between the fourties and fifties. Both great for different reasons." Had Evan really just told this woman about his affinity for all things Uncle Sam and sockhop? He had, apparently, and Evan was a little shocked at himself. That was pretty unlikely, just to spill the juicy gossip on himself after just meeting someone. Even Adriana, whom he had known practically her whole life, only knew that Evan had a song collection from the fifties. "But I'll always love anything from the eighties." Evan joked. He could only imagine himself: long shaggy hair, a grungy appearance, headbanging to the new KISS song. 

Vivienne Belle. That was a beautiful name. It could be said so many different ways and convey so much emotion; any name could, really, but Vivienne? No, that was a special name. "Nice to meet you, Miss Vivienne. Welcome to New York City. You either love it or you hate it." 

He hoped she loved it.

Evan realized that if he stood there any longer, he'd look like an idiot. And he could only imagine how tired she had to be; if she only had these few boxes now, she had to have moved several other things. Evan started for the stairs, briefly considering whether or not to let her up first. In most instances, it was polite to let a lady ahead of you, right? But wait, she was in a short dress. If he said "go ahead", she might think he was creeping on her. Evan thought for only a second longer before saying, "Go on ahead, Miss Belle." Evan reckoned that since it was the polite thing to do in an overwhelming number of situations, he should apply the same principle here. Evan followed her up, skillfully avoiding the glaringly obvious place for him to look (well, ninety-nine percent of time. Evan was a guy and he couldn't help but glance.)

Evan followed Vivienne up the four flights, finally stopping at her room. Waiting for her to open the door, Evan said, "So, what brings you to New York?" It may be lame, but it was his attempt at keeping a conversation up. Evan had realized that he was about to put the boxes down and go back to his room, probably never having a great opportunity to talk to her again. He didn't want her go away just like that, no. Evan planned on making a new friend today.  

[/justify]

[VIVIENNE BELLE]

Vivienne blushed and smiled, looking at her feet then back up at him. "Well you guess correctly, Mista Jackson." Wanting to show that she was in fact capable of handling some things herself, she grabbed another box. This one held a few nice, formal dresses that were folded neatly but would still likely need to be ironed, which was why she had included her iron in the box itself. She wasn't sure why she would need the dresses or what for, but she wanted to bring them anyways. The she grabbed two much, much smaller boxes filled with all her makeup, a necessity, of course. These boxes were much, much lighter than the two Evan Jackson were carrying, but he didn't need to know that, even if the distinction in size was clear enough. Though Vivienne could be a damsel in distress, she didn't like to be labeled as that because sometimes she could help herself.

She pondered the question. It really was difficult. Both eras supported, well, Vivienne-type women, unlike the twenties when women swallowed tapeworm eggs to get thin. That seemed so drastic, and Vivienne never thought about changing anything about herself apart from her hair, so. "I don't think I can choose, either." It was true, she loved both. Though most of the dresses she had in the box were more fifties-style.

Vivienne just laughed when he mentioned the eighties. She couldn't see herself in neon, sporting crop tops and legwarmers and a lot of hairsrpay, but to each their own. Vivienne couldn't deny that she did enjoy a few classic rock songs and hair bands, and Sixteen Candles was one of her favorite movies. Her own sixteenth birtday had been a small affair, with only Delilah and Luke as guests. She didn't have a lot of friends back then and the few she did invite had other plans. Though, she had been a bit hurt when Carson Dawes, her crush at the time, didn't show up. It seemed so silly back then, and she realized that back then was only seven years ago. Should seven years have felt that long ago?

Oh, well she was getting herself all worked up and distracted. That wouldn't help her now, would it? She needed to be polite to the gentleman helping her and she couldn't do that if she wasn't paying attention, yes? "I think I love it already," she said, blushing afterwards of course, as she had just suggested that she loved it after all of an hour or two, and meeting one particular person with the name Evan Jackson. Which wasn't entirely false, of course.

"Thank ya, sir." Contrary to what she was putting off, she was aware that she was wearing a short dress in this situation and her ascending the stairs first was a compromising position, but Vivienne had been through far too much to worry about something as simple as that. Besides, he could have just meant it in a polite, gentlemanly way.

Of course, he was a man, but Vivienne didn't mind. You couldn't touch if you didn't look, right? The blush that came after that was less intentional than the ones before it had been, but he couldn't see her face, so that was good. A lady didn't think these things, it was obscene. She had to regain composure, and quickly.

"So, what brings you to New York?"

Vivienne wasn't sure if it was her conscious or not, but with that question, she stumbled and the two boxes on top landed a couple stairs above her and she winced, attempting to shake off the sharp pain that went up her hand. It wasn't broken or anything, but it still hurt a bit. She blinked, and realized she was lucky she didn;t fall down the whole staircase. Really, they should have the elevator fixed, it would make things a lot easier, wouldn't it? Ouch.

[/justify]

{vivienne you slag}