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ax_mainNolan and Shinobi catch up briefly at Shinobi's birthday soiree, and are then joined by Tamara. Nolan gallantly retreats, leaving his friend to the clutches of the Dragoness. Which Shinobi, as it turns out, is perfectly okay with.
Nolan had dressed to match Shinobi's favorite yukata, in honor of his friend's birthday, which meant a dark red polo over a white one with a flipped collar, a pair of green chino trousers and his favorite red wingtips. Some might think the colors Christmasy, but Nolan never dressed to impress anyone but himself, and he was pleased with the color scheme, which was the entire point.
He caught Shinobi at the end of a round of karaoke, during which his friend had sung a French song Nolan had never heard before, and held a glass out to him with a smile. He held another similar-looking glass, for himself, only his was the alcohol-free version of the drink. "Do I want to ask what that song was?"
"Louxor J'adore," Shinobi told him with a brilliant grin, accepting the glass with a grateful nod. "I'll send you the the mp3." He was perspiring lightly, despite the autumn cool, a result of his enthusiastic rendition of the energetic piece. The rich, royal blue cutaway coat which would have normally accompanied his outfit had been left behind when he'd ascended the stage, leaving him in gleaming white shirtsleeves, a silver waistcoat, and trousers which had obviously been cut to flatter his lithe build.
The colors Nolan was wearing that evening had immediately caught Shinobi's eye, and he gave an approving nod. "You're looking impeccable as ever this evening, old boy. Thank you so much for coming out to help celebrate my gradual decline into the tedium of adulthood. I cannot tell you how much it means to me." Though phrased with the Shaw heir's usual, hyperbolic irony, there was a note of genuine gratitude to it. He didn't actually have that many friends. Certainly, there was no shortage of those who believed themselves his friends ... but those he actually considered such amounted to an extremely small handful, indeed. "Remind me to help you troll the Hamptonites tomorrow as an expression of gratitude. Once my inevitable hangover subsides."
"They're sadly a lot less fun to troll from a distance," Nolan replied with something of a tight smile. He missed his Hampton house, though, and his New York apartment. He missed his life. Perhaps the only thing he didn't miss as much as he had thought he would was the office. "But we'll have to do our best, all the same. How are you enjoying your party?"
Shinobi's grin took on a more than slightly manic cast. "Well, everybody looks fantastic and nobody is trying to prevent me from making an absolute spectacle of myself. How could I not be enjoying it? This might be my favorite one, so far. Though I suppose it sets the bar awfully high for next year. I'll have to start planning for that one as soon as I manage to re-hydrate." He studied Nolan for a moment, nodding at his choice of color--they were some of his favorites, and what a lovely gesture!--and his easy stance. Perhaps a touch too easy; his technologically-inclined friend was certainly not asocial by any means, but he hardly possessed Shinobi's bottomless appetite for fresh faces and energetic crowds.
"Of course, your being here adds just the right sort of polish to keep the rest of us from sinking into unabashed degeneracy. Thank you for that."
Nolan tilted his head slightly to the side, a bemused expression on his face. "Are you expecting me to be a safeguard of morality tonight?" His life had never been anywhere near as dissolute as Shinobi's, of course - or very dissolute at all. But, well, still.
By Shinobi's reckoning, it was a question of degree more so than of total presence or absence; but that wasn't talk suitable for a party. Light badinage, that was the thing. "Morality has no place at one of my get-togethers," he laughed. "You should know that as well as anybody. I just meant you make us all seem more refined by mere proximity. Really, it's a gift. Not at all fair, if you think about it."
"Very fair, if my refinement is catching," Nolan answered with an amused smile, playing along for the sake of it.
"Not catching," Shinobi clarified. "Just making the rest of us look better. Like a funhouse mirror, but infinitely more flattering."
Nolan caught sight of an approaching Tamara behind Shinobi, and he smiled, taking a step back to excuse himself. "Some of us don't need any flattering at all."
"Hello boys," Tamara said, smiling up at both of them as she sidled up next to Shinobi, giving them each an appreciative once-over - mostly to invite them to do the same. She'd chosen her moment to make an entrance, and let her outfit do the talking on that front - a silver haltertop and her trusty black skirt that laced up the sides. Her golden-brown hair curled loosely over her shoulders, and she bumped Shinobi playfully with one wing as she tucked them behind her. "How's the party?"
"Konbonwa, darling," Shinobi greeted, happily tucking himself under one wing. He looked her up and down appreciatively. "You're looking particularly toothsome this evening." He glanced toward his roommate. "Nolan! Be a darling and confirm my assessment."
"You look lovely," Nolan dutifully told Tamara, covering up his unease as well as he could. She really did look very nice, if you were into tiny goth vamps, but Nolan had never liked making compliments on command.
Tamara raised an eyebrow at him. If she’d expected Nolan to be less awkward because it was a party and he had a drink, well, there went that theory. “Don’t strain yourself or anything,” she said, glancing between him and Shinobi. Oh god, with her luck he was probably crushing on Shinobi or something...
"A 'you look lovely' from Nolan is worth several sonnets worth of grandiose praise from me," Shinobi told her reassuringly. "He prefers to reserve the bulk of his enthusiasm for genius-things. Which is charming in its own way, but of very limited use in this sort of setting."
"And I have very limited use for this sort of setting, as it turns out," Nolan replied in his characteristic soft-spoken snark. "What were the odds." Not that it was necessarily true, but it felt like the thing to say.
“That’s okay, I think Shinobi can party enough for both of you,” Tamara pointed out, smirking up at Shinobi. No one could say he wasn’t having a blast.
"Please," Shinobi said haughtily, taking a sip from his cocktail and looking down his nose at the other two. "I will have you know that I am easily capable of partying enough for six people. Seven, if they're Japanese prep-school types. I will not have my considerable accomplishments in this most eminent of fields understated so."
"I would've estimated a good twenty, myself," Nolan assured him with a small smile.
Tamara was shaking her head at the pair of them, though a grin was threatening to break through at any moment. “Uh-huh. I’ll be the judge of that,” she said, looking Shinobi over doubtfully, as if critically evaluating his partying abilities.
"Twenty might be a bit of an overstatement," Shinobi acknowledged, though grudgingly. "I mean, I'm not a machine, you know. But where are my manners? Can I get you any refreshment, Tamara? We've got a variety on-hand this evening, from top-shelf vodka to water." He wrinkled his nose. "I never touch the stuff, myself, but I understand some people have a taste for it. And I never judge."
“You always judge,” Tamara replied playfully. “And top-shelf vodka sounds good to me.” Tamara was more than happy to try the expensive stuff (it seemed only fitting, given who they were celebrating). “Something just a little bit sweet?”
"Never," he protested, touching her elbow and leading her toward one of the tables set up nearby, and the number of cryptically label-free bottles arrayed upon it. He opened one and sloshed a bit of the clear liquid inside into one a plastic tumbler, then moved toward the mixers. "I am the most egalitarian soul you'll ever meet. Nolan can tell you; he's known for years."
"You do judge everybody equally," Nolan confirmed, making both of their statements true.
Tamara was definitely liking this version of Nolan better, and she smiled up at him. "What're you drinking?"
Nolan raised the still half-full glass in his hand. "I'm all set, thank you."
"If you're curious, I'm having the same," Shinobi offered, holding out his relatively-untouched glass to her. "If you would care for a taste?"
"Sure," Tamara said, taking his drink for sip (and quite intentionally leaving a little lipstick print on the rim). The flavor of it surprised her, though it probably shouldn't have. "Wow, that is way better than anything we drink at parties back home," she said, handing it back to him.
"I'll fix you one, if you like," Nolan offered. "It's whiskey-based, though." If she'd started on vodka, the resulting hangover might be interesting. By which he meant highly unpleasant. And look at him, offering to do something for her. He was trying, for Shinobi.
"Don't worry about this one," Shinobi added helpfully, spinning the glass so that the contents swirled at the bottom of the cup. "I promise you it won't go to waste." He had very little hesitation with regard to mixing medications, as it were. His tolerance was more robust than his relatively wispy frame suggested, and he'd resigned himself to a phenomenal hangover hours ago.
"Thanks, but I'll stick with vodka tonight," Tamara replied, though she did beam up at Nolan. Truth was, she wanted to see what Shinobi had mixed for her.
"Well. Now I feel challenged." Shinobi's hand withdrew from the initial mixer he'd been about to select and moved to another unmarked bottle. To this, he added cranberry juice and a bit of fresh lime juice. "Here. The glass is all wrong, but the basic elements are those of a cosmopolitan."
Tamara accepted the glass and took a thoughtful sip. Worlds better than the go-to screwdrivers back home. "Oh I think I like that," she told Shinobi, licking her lips as she peered up at him.
"And that's my cue to leave you two," Nolan remarked softly, raising his glass at them in a goodbye toast.
Shinobi pouted. "Always a spoilsport. Fine, leave me alone to entertain the pretty girl all on my own, like the proverbial babe in the wilderness. Just remember it puts your inheritance in serious jeopardy."
Totally confused by that last statement, Tamara just looked back and forth between them for a moment with a puzzled little frown. Seriously, were they more than friends? Wouldn't Shinobi have mentioned that? She raised an eyebrow at him. ...hard to know, honestly.
Huffing a sigh, Shinobi turned fully toward Tamara and raised his glass to her. "Hate to see him leave, love to watch him go, am I right?"
"You say that about everyone," Tamara replied with a little laugh. "Are you two...?"
He gave her an inquisitive look. "Best Friends For Life? Without question. But if you're asking if our relationship is anything more than platonic, then no. Not that I'd object, personally--he's just to my taste, in a strictly carnal sense. But I've never had much of a sense where Nolan's tastes lie." Shinobi shrugged. "Either way, why are we talking about my dear, recently withdrawn friend, when we could be talking about you? And that dress. I feel I should be personally flattered, and yet at the same time that it might not be appropriate."
"Oh no, it is definitely appropriate," Tamara assured him, plenty happy to switch back to flirting. "In fact," she said coyly, "it's part of your birthday present."
"And here I thought I'd stipulated no presents would be necessary," he hummed, sidling closer. "Still, I can't help but think it would be terribly gauche of me to complain. And I can't deny a certain curiosity as to what the other part might be."
With a perfect little smirk, Tamara used her free hand to lift her hair, exposing her neck. "See this bow?" She meant the one at the base of her neck, holding her shirt up. "And two more, on my skirt?"
Taking another sip of her drink, she let her hair fall loose on her shoulders and wings again. "Yours, to do what you want with tonight."
Long fingers toyed with the fabric of one of the bows at her skirt. "Sou ka," he murmured. "Happy birthday to me, indeed." He didn't ask if she were sure; nothing in his experience with Tamara so far suggested she would make such an offer if she were not sure it was exactly what she wanted. Shinobi molded himself to her side and tapped the side of his glass with hers. "Temptress. That will make it very hard for me not to rush the festivities, you know."
Tamara smiled up at him, fingers playing over his waistcoat. That was exactly the response she'd been hoping for. "Maybe you'll let me steal you a way for a bit instead?"
He smirked. "Do you think they'll be able to do without the guest of honor for a short while? I hate to deprive them of my company, especially given that it's my party, but I dislike resisting temptation more."
"It's your party," Tamara told him coyly, fingers tugging at the top button of his waistcoat. "I wouldn't dream of telling you what to do."
Well, not until they were alone anyway.
"That's certainly a first," he chuckled, resting one hand over hers where she toyed with his silver waistcoat buttons. "He nodded toward the shadowed periphery, and the welcoming solitude of the dark grounds beyond. "Shall we?"
Tamara turned her hand in his, fingertips teasing over his palm. "Yes please."
Shinobi tightened his grip around her hand, took a step backward, and tugged her toward the darkness of the surrounding grounds. "Your wish is my command."
Nolan had dressed to match Shinobi's favorite yukata, in honor of his friend's birthday, which meant a dark red polo over a white one with a flipped collar, a pair of green chino trousers and his favorite red wingtips. Some might think the colors Christmasy, but Nolan never dressed to impress anyone but himself, and he was pleased with the color scheme, which was the entire point.
He caught Shinobi at the end of a round of karaoke, during which his friend had sung a French song Nolan had never heard before, and held a glass out to him with a smile. He held another similar-looking glass, for himself, only his was the alcohol-free version of the drink. "Do I want to ask what that song was?"
"Louxor J'adore," Shinobi told him with a brilliant grin, accepting the glass with a grateful nod. "I'll send you the the mp3." He was perspiring lightly, despite the autumn cool, a result of his enthusiastic rendition of the energetic piece. The rich, royal blue cutaway coat which would have normally accompanied his outfit had been left behind when he'd ascended the stage, leaving him in gleaming white shirtsleeves, a silver waistcoat, and trousers which had obviously been cut to flatter his lithe build.
The colors Nolan was wearing that evening had immediately caught Shinobi's eye, and he gave an approving nod. "You're looking impeccable as ever this evening, old boy. Thank you so much for coming out to help celebrate my gradual decline into the tedium of adulthood. I cannot tell you how much it means to me." Though phrased with the Shaw heir's usual, hyperbolic irony, there was a note of genuine gratitude to it. He didn't actually have that many friends. Certainly, there was no shortage of those who believed themselves his friends ... but those he actually considered such amounted to an extremely small handful, indeed. "Remind me to help you troll the Hamptonites tomorrow as an expression of gratitude. Once my inevitable hangover subsides."
"They're sadly a lot less fun to troll from a distance," Nolan replied with something of a tight smile. He missed his Hampton house, though, and his New York apartment. He missed his life. Perhaps the only thing he didn't miss as much as he had thought he would was the office. "But we'll have to do our best, all the same. How are you enjoying your party?"
Shinobi's grin took on a more than slightly manic cast. "Well, everybody looks fantastic and nobody is trying to prevent me from making an absolute spectacle of myself. How could I not be enjoying it? This might be my favorite one, so far. Though I suppose it sets the bar awfully high for next year. I'll have to start planning for that one as soon as I manage to re-hydrate." He studied Nolan for a moment, nodding at his choice of color--they were some of his favorites, and what a lovely gesture!--and his easy stance. Perhaps a touch too easy; his technologically-inclined friend was certainly not asocial by any means, but he hardly possessed Shinobi's bottomless appetite for fresh faces and energetic crowds.
"Of course, your being here adds just the right sort of polish to keep the rest of us from sinking into unabashed degeneracy. Thank you for that."
Nolan tilted his head slightly to the side, a bemused expression on his face. "Are you expecting me to be a safeguard of morality tonight?" His life had never been anywhere near as dissolute as Shinobi's, of course - or very dissolute at all. But, well, still.
By Shinobi's reckoning, it was a question of degree more so than of total presence or absence; but that wasn't talk suitable for a party. Light badinage, that was the thing. "Morality has no place at one of my get-togethers," he laughed. "You should know that as well as anybody. I just meant you make us all seem more refined by mere proximity. Really, it's a gift. Not at all fair, if you think about it."
"Very fair, if my refinement is catching," Nolan answered with an amused smile, playing along for the sake of it.
"Not catching," Shinobi clarified. "Just making the rest of us look better. Like a funhouse mirror, but infinitely more flattering."
Nolan caught sight of an approaching Tamara behind Shinobi, and he smiled, taking a step back to excuse himself. "Some of us don't need any flattering at all."
"Hello boys," Tamara said, smiling up at both of them as she sidled up next to Shinobi, giving them each an appreciative once-over - mostly to invite them to do the same. She'd chosen her moment to make an entrance, and let her outfit do the talking on that front - a silver haltertop and her trusty black skirt that laced up the sides. Her golden-brown hair curled loosely over her shoulders, and she bumped Shinobi playfully with one wing as she tucked them behind her. "How's the party?"
"Konbonwa, darling," Shinobi greeted, happily tucking himself under one wing. He looked her up and down appreciatively. "You're looking particularly toothsome this evening." He glanced toward his roommate. "Nolan! Be a darling and confirm my assessment."
"You look lovely," Nolan dutifully told Tamara, covering up his unease as well as he could. She really did look very nice, if you were into tiny goth vamps, but Nolan had never liked making compliments on command.
Tamara raised an eyebrow at him. If she’d expected Nolan to be less awkward because it was a party and he had a drink, well, there went that theory. “Don’t strain yourself or anything,” she said, glancing between him and Shinobi. Oh god, with her luck he was probably crushing on Shinobi or something...
"A 'you look lovely' from Nolan is worth several sonnets worth of grandiose praise from me," Shinobi told her reassuringly. "He prefers to reserve the bulk of his enthusiasm for genius-things. Which is charming in its own way, but of very limited use in this sort of setting."
"And I have very limited use for this sort of setting, as it turns out," Nolan replied in his characteristic soft-spoken snark. "What were the odds." Not that it was necessarily true, but it felt like the thing to say.
“That’s okay, I think Shinobi can party enough for both of you,” Tamara pointed out, smirking up at Shinobi. No one could say he wasn’t having a blast.
"Please," Shinobi said haughtily, taking a sip from his cocktail and looking down his nose at the other two. "I will have you know that I am easily capable of partying enough for six people. Seven, if they're Japanese prep-school types. I will not have my considerable accomplishments in this most eminent of fields understated so."
"I would've estimated a good twenty, myself," Nolan assured him with a small smile.
Tamara was shaking her head at the pair of them, though a grin was threatening to break through at any moment. “Uh-huh. I’ll be the judge of that,” she said, looking Shinobi over doubtfully, as if critically evaluating his partying abilities.
"Twenty might be a bit of an overstatement," Shinobi acknowledged, though grudgingly. "I mean, I'm not a machine, you know. But where are my manners? Can I get you any refreshment, Tamara? We've got a variety on-hand this evening, from top-shelf vodka to water." He wrinkled his nose. "I never touch the stuff, myself, but I understand some people have a taste for it. And I never judge."
“You always judge,” Tamara replied playfully. “And top-shelf vodka sounds good to me.” Tamara was more than happy to try the expensive stuff (it seemed only fitting, given who they were celebrating). “Something just a little bit sweet?”
"Never," he protested, touching her elbow and leading her toward one of the tables set up nearby, and the number of cryptically label-free bottles arrayed upon it. He opened one and sloshed a bit of the clear liquid inside into one a plastic tumbler, then moved toward the mixers. "I am the most egalitarian soul you'll ever meet. Nolan can tell you; he's known for years."
"You do judge everybody equally," Nolan confirmed, making both of their statements true.
Tamara was definitely liking this version of Nolan better, and she smiled up at him. "What're you drinking?"
Nolan raised the still half-full glass in his hand. "I'm all set, thank you."
"If you're curious, I'm having the same," Shinobi offered, holding out his relatively-untouched glass to her. "If you would care for a taste?"
"Sure," Tamara said, taking his drink for sip (and quite intentionally leaving a little lipstick print on the rim). The flavor of it surprised her, though it probably shouldn't have. "Wow, that is way better than anything we drink at parties back home," she said, handing it back to him.
"I'll fix you one, if you like," Nolan offered. "It's whiskey-based, though." If she'd started on vodka, the resulting hangover might be interesting. By which he meant highly unpleasant. And look at him, offering to do something for her. He was trying, for Shinobi.
"Don't worry about this one," Shinobi added helpfully, spinning the glass so that the contents swirled at the bottom of the cup. "I promise you it won't go to waste." He had very little hesitation with regard to mixing medications, as it were. His tolerance was more robust than his relatively wispy frame suggested, and he'd resigned himself to a phenomenal hangover hours ago.
"Thanks, but I'll stick with vodka tonight," Tamara replied, though she did beam up at Nolan. Truth was, she wanted to see what Shinobi had mixed for her.
"Well. Now I feel challenged." Shinobi's hand withdrew from the initial mixer he'd been about to select and moved to another unmarked bottle. To this, he added cranberry juice and a bit of fresh lime juice. "Here. The glass is all wrong, but the basic elements are those of a cosmopolitan."
Tamara accepted the glass and took a thoughtful sip. Worlds better than the go-to screwdrivers back home. "Oh I think I like that," she told Shinobi, licking her lips as she peered up at him.
"And that's my cue to leave you two," Nolan remarked softly, raising his glass at them in a goodbye toast.
Shinobi pouted. "Always a spoilsport. Fine, leave me alone to entertain the pretty girl all on my own, like the proverbial babe in the wilderness. Just remember it puts your inheritance in serious jeopardy."
Totally confused by that last statement, Tamara just looked back and forth between them for a moment with a puzzled little frown. Seriously, were they more than friends? Wouldn't Shinobi have mentioned that? She raised an eyebrow at him. ...hard to know, honestly.
Huffing a sigh, Shinobi turned fully toward Tamara and raised his glass to her. "Hate to see him leave, love to watch him go, am I right?"
"You say that about everyone," Tamara replied with a little laugh. "Are you two...?"
He gave her an inquisitive look. "Best Friends For Life? Without question. But if you're asking if our relationship is anything more than platonic, then no. Not that I'd object, personally--he's just to my taste, in a strictly carnal sense. But I've never had much of a sense where Nolan's tastes lie." Shinobi shrugged. "Either way, why are we talking about my dear, recently withdrawn friend, when we could be talking about you? And that dress. I feel I should be personally flattered, and yet at the same time that it might not be appropriate."
"Oh no, it is definitely appropriate," Tamara assured him, plenty happy to switch back to flirting. "In fact," she said coyly, "it's part of your birthday present."
"And here I thought I'd stipulated no presents would be necessary," he hummed, sidling closer. "Still, I can't help but think it would be terribly gauche of me to complain. And I can't deny a certain curiosity as to what the other part might be."
With a perfect little smirk, Tamara used her free hand to lift her hair, exposing her neck. "See this bow?" She meant the one at the base of her neck, holding her shirt up. "And two more, on my skirt?"
Taking another sip of her drink, she let her hair fall loose on her shoulders and wings again. "Yours, to do what you want with tonight."
Long fingers toyed with the fabric of one of the bows at her skirt. "Sou ka," he murmured. "Happy birthday to me, indeed." He didn't ask if she were sure; nothing in his experience with Tamara so far suggested she would make such an offer if she were not sure it was exactly what she wanted. Shinobi molded himself to her side and tapped the side of his glass with hers. "Temptress. That will make it very hard for me not to rush the festivities, you know."
Tamara smiled up at him, fingers playing over his waistcoat. That was exactly the response she'd been hoping for. "Maybe you'll let me steal you a way for a bit instead?"
He smirked. "Do you think they'll be able to do without the guest of honor for a short while? I hate to deprive them of my company, especially given that it's my party, but I dislike resisting temptation more."
"It's your party," Tamara told him coyly, fingers tugging at the top button of his waistcoat. "I wouldn't dream of telling you what to do."
Well, not until they were alone anyway.
"That's certainly a first," he chuckled, resting one hand over hers where she toyed with his silver waistcoat buttons. "He nodded toward the shadowed periphery, and the welcoming solitude of the dark grounds beyond. "Shall we?"
Tamara turned her hand in his, fingertips teasing over his palm. "Yes please."
Shinobi tightened his grip around her hand, took a step backward, and tugged her toward the darkness of the surrounding grounds. "Your wish is my command."
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Date: 2017-11-14 11:41 pm (UTC)