Bonjour! {Soren}

[magicfish]

Robyn could hardly resist going out on a Friday night. Saturday nights were alright, but there was something magnificent about a Friday night. The way people suddenly tossed their work and school clothes, and let loose the stress of the working week. Friday was that first step to relief, fresh out of school and work. Granted Robyn didn’t stress over work or over school like most people did, she still thrived on the energy of the club. So armed with her bright orange dress and coordinating pumps, she made her way to Down the Rabbit Hole. It wasn’t her most favorite of places; she preferred the more shady, skeevy places that took place in giant storage containers or abandoned buildings. But as far as established clubs went, it wasn’t horrendous.

Only, it actually was. The light glinted off the bangles on her wrist and the delicate chain around her ankle. With her bright neon orange outfit, and her wild hair—she should have been a beacon. And she was---for crusties. Whenever a man with hair slicked back like a helmet attempted to approach her, she openly rolled her eyes, and rotated on her bar stool the other way. She was sitting there with her second margarita, poking at the crushed ice in the glass. Yeah, okay. This place sucked.

She just wasn’t feeling it, and she looked over the crowd curiously. Maybe she could just jump in and start dancing? But after the disappointment that she was feeling so far from the bar area—the dance floor didn’t seem like a better chance. Where the hell were all the college students? Watching a girl walk by with who’s name could only be Silicone Barbie, she shook her head and cleared her mind. Okay…where the hell were all the college people that weren’t taking up half of the world’s plastic resources? Robyn raised the glass to her lips, licking off a slight bit of the salt from the rim, before taking a sip of the drink. She made a resolve then: if no one of interest approached her by the time she was done with her drink—she was going home.

Hazel eyes looked down at the lime green liquid in the glass, her pink lips turned down slightly. Established clubs seemed so…generic. Boring. Clean. She also made a mental note to avoid this place like the plague afterwards unless she was planning on meeting someone out here. She was wasting the hourglass shape of her body in the orange dress that seemed to compliment her caramel skin so nicely. Robyn wasn’t just Black British—her skin was diluted to the color of coffee once milk was added. That came from her Irish heritage, and also lightened what would be dark brown eyes to a light hazel with a green rim around the inside. All in all, Robyn was a pretty girl. A lovely girl.

A bangin’ girl, that should not have been sitting at the bar, sipping on her drink and completely disgusted with the people in the club. Was it really that hard to ask for someone—anyone of interest to come her way? Again those hazel eyes slid around the club. If she was desperate enough, and saw someone that could tickle her fancy—maybe she’d go after him. Maybe.

OUTFIT

[SOREN SOMERSETT]

Soren didn’t go to the clubs to dance. That was the number one thing he just wanted to make clear right fucking now. Soren did not dance. He would apply early decision to an all-women’s school before he actually danced at a club like those stupid screaming little hyena chicks in the center of the room. Seriously, if you went to a club expecting to see Soren Somersett dancing his little ass of, you were going to be sorely disappointed. Sorely disappointed.

No, Soren went to clubs for chicks and chicks alone. Seriously. What the hell else was there to do in a club? Clubs were always boring as fuck until you found some hot chick to hook up with, no matter what the commercials all said. And now that this whole thing was happening with Kerli Stewart and shit, well…

What the hell was up with him and Kerli Stewart, incidentally? Soren had been in more relationships than you could count, and yet he still had absolutely no idea what to call what was between them right now. Some weird-ass kind of love hatred thingie, right? With a rather substantial emphasis on the hating part. Though Soren didn’t hate her. Because he could never hate a chick who was that hot. But still…they were like an old married couple, with the way they bickered about random shit, snapping over issues for, at least in Soren’s case, no reason other than playing devil’s advocate. Something about the two of them just didn’t work…and yet, at the same time, worked. Really fucking well.

Yeah, it made just about as much sense to Soren as math always had. Which was none. At all.

And of course, when you had absolutely no idea what the fuck was going on between you and a chick, the obvious solution was to go crash a back-alley club where a ton of hot chicks hung out. Right? Yeah, right.

No, wrong, you idiot. What the fuck are you doing here?

Soren ran a finger absentmindedly through his stiff hair, feeling grains of dry gel flake off against his skin. So this was when the night was supposed to start, right? This was how you always started a night. You sat, you drank, you waited, and eventually some drunk bitch stumbled over and made out with you. Failing that, you found some nice-looking chick, chatted her up, and, well…

And then he found her. Sipping anxiously from his glass he caught her eye…her super-duper pretty eye. The coolest brownish-greenish color he’d ever seen before, and something about the look in it was just…sexy. Not intimidating sexy, but that weird gradient of sexy that Soren knew he wouldn’t mind sleeping all this confusing Kerli Stewart shit away with.

Soren switched on his trademark charm and sidled up to the woman. “Hey hey babay,” he murmured in a hushed voice, sliding cleanly into the seat beside her. “Qual e il tuo segno?” he asked in sleek Italian. Rule number one for wooing the ladies: foreign languages were the way to go.

OUTFIT
Notes: He said "hey baby what's your sign" if you need to know that for any reason

[magicfish]

Oh great. Another guy who looked a few colors short of a Crayola box, and hair that was probably glued down to his head by some magnetic gel superforce. Granted, he was a better pick than the rest of what she had seen tonight, but she still wasn't entirely too impressed. However, this was her one chance. Maybe she wouldn't have jumped straight into his lap like he was James Dean, but she wouldn't turn her nose up like she had with the few others that came her way. This club was lame, and as she stirred the margarita with the little straw she eyed the young man that was looking right back at her.

She raised a brow, and parted her lips slightly, angling her jaw just the slightest. Letting him know that she had seen him, that she had noticed. It wasn't a natural movement for Robyn; then again, her flirting looks weren't natural. They looked it, but they were well-practiced, and well controlled. She was aware of how she looked when she pulled certain expressions, and she used them to her benefit. Now, if he was going to take the bait. And by judging how he got up and started to come in closer--he definitely was. She let her eyes take their time in sliding down from his face to his shoes, and back up. Robyn wasn't just giving signals, she was flashing them like a beacon.

Offering a small smile, she pushed on her stool, starting to turn to face him--until her gave her the opening like. Hey hey, babay. Really? Really? She was just about to roll her eyes and let out a sound of disgust before he started to speak again, and it stopped her right in her tracks. What the hell was that? He was no James Dean, but whatever came out of his mouth just sounded glorious. Robyn looked back at him curiously. No, she had no clue what he said. He could have called her a skanky bitch just then, but it sounded magnificent. However, the infliction told her that he had just asked her a question, and she managed a soft laugh. "Alright, you got me. I'm interested, now what did you say?" Her own accent curled around her words, her smile framing them. Had she been on the phone, Soren would have been able to hear the smile in her voice.

Just a regular old American boy, maybe he wouldn't have had her full interest. But with that little flair of the other language--oh, he had her interest. She turned her body full towards him, and crossed one naturally dark leg over the other and leaned in a little bit. "What language was that?" She asked curiously, resting the bottom of her glass on her knee while she tilted her head. Hopefully this one would be somewhat interesting. It'd sort of suck tohave to toss this fish back into the sea. Though...the anaology made her smile, and made her take another sip of her drink to keep from laughing. No good laughing at your inside-the-head voice..

OUTFIT