Role Playing - [Money Power Glory] A MYOC Role Play Game - Page 8

Captivating · 01-06-2016, 01:04 PM

Lynette
Seeing somebody for the past couple of months? A supermarket worker or sexually confused dancer was likely. A tattoo artist might’ve been in the running at one time. Sydney blurred the lines where standards were concerned. Her cousin’s short courtship with Jonathon Finch was the exception. Of course, she squandered that away. “Well, he must be divine if you’re keeping him hidden in the shadows,” Lynette quipped. The smell of imaginary boyfriend was strong. Perhaps Sydney thought she was a catch, believed someone held her dear, but a real man took pride in his partner. Elizabeth Donahue was unmistaken. The absence of a serious declaration was as good as being single. Rory turned a wary eye toward his sparring partner, his disapproval transparent. Poor Sydney was undeservedly mistreated; Lynette was a jealous harpy, and so on and so forth. What did she care? A rebel Gallagher’s opinion held no weight. He operated a pub, for Christ’s sake. Rory thought drunkards were good company. Of course he favored the New Yorker.

“Oh, it’s too tight? I guess I don’t know my own strength.” Lynette batted her lashes and exposed her pearly whites. If he wanted coy, she’d give him coy. Her smile vanished upon certain insinuations. What was this? She felt backed into a corner. Rory and Sydney’s claim of sexual tension was childish and misplaced. Still, she stuttered. “Well, I’ve never…the idea that…you’re both deluded…or, or drunk.” The tested brunette crossed her arms and huffed. “My grandmother knows I wouldn’t be so desperate. Adrienne cozied up to a Sinclaire and you saw what that got her. Now Cadence, dear as she is, wants to swim with the sharks. I’ll be an old maid before slumming it with a Gallagher.” Sydney appeared on the verge of laughter. Good, let her get her jollies now. She’d reap what she sowed come auction.

Though she’d slighted him, Rory’s dismissal made Lynette feel cheap, somehow disrespected. She’d never show it. “The view’s lovely from up here, why climb down? And lets not pretend romantic notions existed in our youth. You were always, well, you. Rebecca might’ve called you cute but I wasn’t fooled.” Lynette cleared her throat. She rarely spoke of her sister and starting now wasn’t wise. She mimicked Sydney (for once) and quickly downed another glass of Moscato. This little threesome of theirs was getting too chummy. Somewhere there existed more people to strong arm into tonight’s auction. It was her job to find them. “You two feel free to drink yourselves into oblivion. It shows your class. I’m off to raise money for charity.”

Lynette refused to pause for their anti-Mother Theresa jabs, disappearing into the crowd. Where was Liz? She could use her best friend’s help finishing the duties grandmother assigned. Liz was more persuasive where the opposite sex was concerned. On cue, her favorite blonde was spotted chatting up Phillip Sinclaire. “I must be hallucinating.” Lynette shook her head in confusion whilst relocating to the outside patio. Her hazel eyes locked with Ford and Adrienne Delongpre. “How are we doing with food preparation and auction participation?” she inquired semi-sweetly. Liz and Cadence remained her preferred Delongpres, but these two were halfway decent. They made better company than Sydney Jordan any day of the week.

TAG Adrienne/Ford

degausser · 01-06-2016, 01:31 PM

Prescott Sinclaire
"I don't think the old bat likes me." With Angelo's wife having abandoned them to go mingle with friends and family inside, it was probably easy to confuse his statement about Evelyn Moretti when in actuality he'd been referring to Elizabeth Donahue. There was no question where Evelyn's sentiments fell regarding Prescott. He already knew she hated him. His fiance's beloved grandmother was another thing all together and the extent of his suspicions stemmed from the fact that she always seemed to be wrinkling her nose like she smelled something awful whenever he entered the room. It was entirely possible she just suffered from excessive flatulence he supposed. He couldn't imagine what reason she could possibly have for not liking him. He was such a charming person after all.

"She told me in her uppity nasally voice over the phone that 'if I couldn't make it to the Christmas party, the Earth would not cease to spin.' and that they'd all find a way to carry on without me." Why that should offend him he could not say, maybe because like any spoiled attention seeking rich boy who could never quite measure up to his father's expectations, he desired to be liked and loved by everyone. Or maybe it was just the narcissist in him that could not comprehend the notion that someone might genuinely dislike him. The latter seemed more likely.

"That was without me even prompting her in a suggestion that I wouldn't be coming, mind you." Prescott knocked the lever of the glove department with the palm of his fist and retrieved a pen from inside then snatched up a discarded CD case at his feet, the one belonging to the track currently playing in the car. He twisted the cap off the pen and carefully poured the hidden contents onto the track listing before chopping the powder and crafting two narrow lines with his credit card. Hey mama, look at me, I'm on my way to the promised land. One bump of the nose candy (Smack? Powder? Blow? Yayo? whatever the kids were calling it these days) and half an hour later the duo managed to ditch their car and find their way to the house after nearly getting lost two different times on the way. How is it possible to lose sight of an outrageously large house, one might ask? In the immortal words of Rick James, Cocaine is a hell of a drug.

"I should probably go put in some time with the future ball and chain." Angelo had given him only a perfunctory nod, evidentially already distracted by something or one else, and so Prescott took his leave with the intent of hunting down his fiance. And to his credit, Prescott actually did make an honest effort of finding her for all of two minutes before a flute of champagne and a giant fountain of chocolate fondue distracted him. His mind immediately went to Mia, who he was suddenly picturing naked and half submerged in the warm liquid, bidding him to cleanse her with his tongue (which in his mind he of course happily obliged). Prescott moved to retrieve his phone with little thought, sending out cyber feelers to see if she had arrived at the party yet. You haven't already fallen into a fish tank or anything, have you? The front pocket of his pants vibrated not ten seconds after returning the phone to his front pocket and he fully intended to read what he could only assume was Mia's response when a tray of orange slices caught his eye. Prescott contemplated his priorities for a few beats before his stomach inevitably won out and he forgot Mia just as quickly as he had forgotten Cadence if only because the fruit and the chocolate were directly in front of his face.

degausser · 01-08-2016, 05:07 PM

Sydney
Sydney observed the exchange happening before her with increasing amusement, likening the back and forth between Lynette and Rory to a quirky romantic comedy. All she lacked for was the popcorn. It had been a joke of course, her quip never intending to be anything more than an innocent dig to highlight the childish manner in which her cousin was behaving. The last thing she expected was to see her vain and proud cousin sputter so spectacularly, her painted and practiced expression cracking beneath a crimson flush. Apparently her words struck a cord with Lynette. Sydney replayed the last minute or so in her head and wondered how she didn't see it before -- the manner in which Lynette brazenly grabbed Rory by his tie, the glint of amusement in his eye, the way her cousin incessantly picked on Rory to the point of utter absurdity -- it was classic school yard tactics. We always pick on the ones we like most. For however poised Lynette believed herself to be, certain emotional responses had clearly been stunted so it made sense that any unresolved feelings she may or may not have had would manifest themselves in such a manner.

She was all but forgotten now as Lynette addressed Rory exclusively, making mention of the sister Sydney had never known. For a brief moment Lynette seemed lost in a memory. Sydney knew that harrowed, haunted look all too well, having seen it in her own reflection many a time in the wake of her parents' deaths. She grew quiet and thoughtful, empathizing with Lynette in a way she never had before. You two feel free to drink yourselves into oblivion. It shows your class. And then her sympathy was gone.

Rory, in all his misplaced gallantry, had asked earlier if she wanted a refill and Sydney had been prepared to refuse when the nearby bartender was waived over before she could say anything. In truth she did not think it wise to keep drinking when the lightness in her head and warmth in her cheeks suggested a buzz was already fast upon her. If she continued in the same fashion as she had the last half hour or so, she would not be fit to stand a stage on her own, let alone suffer through men bidding on her as if she were lonely, abandoned furniture in an estate sale. Yet as she watched Lynette's retreating form disappear through the crowd, Sydney could not help but feel the moment should be commemorated in some way. "Well now I know that if I ever want to get rid of Lynette in the future, all I need to do is accuse her of having a school girl crush on you." Sydney smiled brightly at Rory before gently clinking the rim of her wine glass against his glencairn glass. "Cheers, Rory."

Captivating · 01-10-2016, 02:10 PM

Cadence
Cadence flipped through the checks in hand - five, ten, twenty. Jonathan and she had easily procured thirty donations in the last half hour. Her best friend attributed their good fortunate to her blonde hair and persuasive doe-eyes. Cadence was too humble to agree. She preferred to believe in the innate goodness of others. Wealthy patrons gave because they saw a need, didn't they? If only life were so simplistic, Jonathan jested sweetly. "Well, Mr. Scrooge, one day I'll change your mind. All this money has nothing to do with me." A passerby shared a knowing look with Jonathan. The men snickered as Cadence searched for Elizabeth. "I better fetch that envelope grandmother brought for money. I wouldn't want to trip and lose our loot." It was with good reason that Cadence's middle name was not Grace (it was Reese, after her great grandmother).

She left Jonathan with a hug, promising to find him post-auction. Perhaps Prescott would agree to a night out with some of her friends. Cadence was always allowing Angelo, even Mia, to tag along. It seemed fair that the favor was returned. Prescott would probably choose isolation over Jonathan Finch. 'Pretty boy' was not his favorite person. Cadence located a manilla folder in the sitting room cabinet. Quickly, she concealed her goods and reemerged into the sea of people. "See that our Master of Ceremonies gets this, please," Cadence requested. The playful glint in her eye elicited a laugh from the butler she addressed. His name was Lorenzo, if memory served her correctly. Adrienne and Liz thought him too eager to please...a brown noser. Maybe. Or maybe he had a strong work ethic. Believing the best in people was her cross to bare. Cadence was reminded of this as her fiancee came into view.

She smirked at the way he was eyeing the chocolate fountain. She knew the look well. It was a mixture of desire and hunger, almost sexual in nature. He'd stared at her with similar passion the night they met. The flames raged higher as Cadence made him wait to consummate their relationship. A full three months, it was. They hardly lasted three days now. Their love-making (her words, not his) was great but Cadence feared detection. She was meant to stay pure until their wedding night. Grandmother would suffer a heart attack if she knew the truth. That's why they only shared a bed twice a week. Cadence wondered if she was making a mistake, driving Prescott to look elsewhere as rumors said, but Adrienne told her a decent man wouldn't find fault. She was implying, of course, that Prescott missed the mark. "Hello, stranger," the petite blonde purred, wrapping arms tightly 'round her intended. "I was wondering where you were." Most women would've chastised their fiancee for missing in action. Cadence offered grace instead. "I missed you." Her lips grazed his stubbled cheek tenderly. "What have you been up to today? I hope you're in a dancing mood..."

TAG Prescott

degausser · 01-11-2016, 02:23 PM

Prescott
He felt her presence before he heard her voice. It was the uncanny sensation of someone standing directly at your back, the sound of gravel crunching beneath a pointed heel or the feather's kiss of a breath barely grazing the neck. Mia or Cadence? It could only be one of those two, his last ex-girlfriend vowing to drive a stake through his heart the next time she saw him. Briefly, Prescott wondered how Tiffani was doing and if she had gotten skin cancer yet from all the indoor suntanning she did. Hello stranger. The voice belonged to Cadence but if there was any doubts remaining, the big rock on the ring finger of the hand that slid around his waist but them to rest.

It was a moment before he acknowledged his fiance even after she had teasingly (and innocently as only Cadence could, bless her naive heart) inquired after his whereabouts, chastely kissed him on the cheek and muttered some sort of endearment about missing him. She was nothing if not doting, this future wife of his. One day he supposed it might annoy him but for the time being he rather enjoyed being the center of two people's universes (three if you counted Angelo). When Prescott finally did chance a glance at his girlfriend, it was with a freshly coated strawberry in hand. Prescott pressed the fruit to Cadence's painted lips, grinning like the wolf that had just stumbled upon a lamb as she swallowed the piece she had bitten off and attempted to clean the chocolate residue around her lips with her tongue. Feeling moved to help her in her endeavor, Prescott dipped his head to capture her lips in a decidedly more rapturous kiss, his tongue lingering over her lower lip to taste the chocolate that lingered. See. He could totally be gallant when he wanted to be.

"I only just recently arrived," Prescott said while deciding to leave out the little detail where he and Angelo snorted a line of coke before heading into the party. Sliding his arm around her slender waist, his hand dipped below the waistline of her dress, giving her ass a hearty pinch. "Want another?" He said before she could protest his greedy fingers, gesturing to the chocolate fountain while also conveniently ignoring the comment she'd made about dancing.

Captivating · 01-12-2016, 11:46 AM

Cadence
Prescott didn’t turn to meet her gaze, not instantly, signaling Adrienne’s voice in her mind. That’s because he’s guilty of something. A guilty man can’t look you in the eyes. Cadence shook her head in protest. She supposed it seemed queer to onlookers, but paranoia wasn’t going to win out. She was too strong to play victim. Her fiancée was not the enemy. If ever he wronged her, and common sense proved he had, it was not purposeful. Prescott was immature. He lacked direction and knowing better. Cadence refused to hold him to a higher standard than he was accustomed. She’d support him, grow with him, because marriage meant sacrifice. Wedding vows said for good or for bad, didn’t they? Cadence took her fiancée’s hand, diamond catching the light. He briefly acknowledged it as he turned. A blink-and-you-miss-it flash of pride seemed to show. Cadence readied to repeat herself. “I miss-,” A strawberry interrupted the words. She licked her chocolate-stained lips appreciatively. “Delicious.” No surprise there. Her grandmother fed guests as though they were royalty.

Prescott covered her mouth with his suddenly, inspiring laughter. Cadence giggled at his eagerness to help. “My knight and shining armor,” she whispered between the kiss. She felt the cold from his absence the second the chocolate was cleared. His hand soon took residence upon her bottom. Unwelcome as it was, Cadence thought it best not to make a scene. “Honey, you know how I feel about that," she crooned. Prescott powered forward, unfazed, suggesting seconds. He knew how to charm his way out of confrontation. “I have tasted and seen that it was good,” the sweet blonde teased. “Maybe just one more.” Cadence nearly swallowed the second strawberry whole. She was hungry, but didn’t wish to spoil her appetite before dinner. She hoped to rope Prescott into a milkshake run later too. Molten lava brownies and strawberry shortcake had nothing on Chick-fil-a’s cookies and cream milkshake. Liz thought it a wonder, with her hearty appetite, that Cadence wasn’t the size of a bus. “You never answered my dancing question. I know you’ve got moves, remember? I’ve seen you dance your way around the ring.” Prescott was an excellent fighter back in the day. He was still pretty decent in her eyes. “For me?”

Phillip
“Remove the plank from your own eye before trying to get the speck out of someone else’s,” Phillip quoted, continuing with the anti-hypocrite campaign. Was it Matthew who wrote that? Mark? Ultimately, they were Jesus’ words so they had to hold merit. Phillip wasn’t a religious man, but war compelled him to read his Bible sporadically. There were worse books to skim. “I find myself mirroring your philosophy.” Still, that older sister of hers made it difficult. Adrienne was not an easy woman to know. She was hard, cold. Hatred for the husband who wronged her was expected, but Adrienne’s cruelty reached further. It extended to all males. Social circles referred to her as a ‘she devil’ now. “People being people,” Phil echoed reflectively. ”The mortal dilemma is frustrating.” Expecting perfection from imperfect humans, well, it happened every day in their world. Liz was wise to find cracks in such logic. Her faraway stare signaled the close of his sins and the start of hers. Phillip knew introspection, knew what it was for a soul to seek retribution. He was still searching.

“You’ve learned from your past, Liz. No one here sees a party girl.” His words were meant to encourage. Still, they held a trace of sadness. He might be the only one to think it, but the old Liz wasn’t so bad. He’d witnessed her antics on leave. Piper updated him on her other exploits through letters. Liz was wild and fun. She was what Phillip used to be, only, she maintained a moral compass. If the Delongpres asked his opinion (they never would), he’d blend who Liz was with who she is. A completely new model was unnecessary. The free spirit turned political whiz smirked, eyes alight with mischief. Had she concluded the same? No, her delight stemmed from Prescott. He was sure to rain down entertainment tonight. “God help us,” Phillip groaned. His brother thought his outbursts tributes to Phil’s youth. The immature idiot had no idea. The Sinclaire heir was much worse.

“Careful what you wish for. Prescott will deliver. Knowing him, he’ll start a fire.” Phillip eyed the irresponsible arse carefully. He was in the throes of passion, lust, whatever, practically mauling Cadence. If he hurt that girl, Phil would kill him. “Let’s hope your sister keeps him distracted. No one wants to prove your grandmother right.” Cracking a smile, he started for the stairs. Liz had been trying to remove herself from his orbit the last five minutes. He’d help her along. “Speaking of Satan herself, I best find Elizabeth…figure out what she expects of me this evening. See you around.” Phillip held his breath and shoved through the crowd. Loud noises, bodies pressed tightly together, it reminded him of Iraq. Too much. He began searching for bourbon to calm his nerves. The uneasy vet found Sydney instead. He hardly knew the youngest Jordan, but she seemed unthreatening enough. “You could help me out,” he greeted informally. “Any idea how Elizabeth has this whole thing organized? I’m, not surprisingly, uniformed.” Phillip’s emerald eyes focused briefly on the form behind Sydney. Rory Gallagher was neither a friend ‘nor enemy. “Hey,” he grunted, finding a head nod sufficient.

TAG Sydney/semi-tag Rory

DingosAteYurBaby · 01-13-2016, 12:47 AM

Ford Delongpre
Ford couldn’t help, but smile at his sister’s apparent amused expression at his offer of valiant bravery or drunken buffoonery (dependent on who you asked). It was so rare to see Adrienne genuinely expressive, but when they happened, it reminded Ford of who his sister used to be. He missed her, but this life and the Sinclaire family could do that to you. It can beat you down. Destroy who you are until you just relent and become who they want you to be. Ford tipped his head towards his sister. “Just making sure. I know our beloved Grandmother expects the Sinclaire or Gallagher clan to cause the disturbances tonight, but if need be, we could shake things up a bit. “ He said with a small wink.

Ford seemed almost offended at Adrienne’s inquiry and overdramatized his true feelings. “I’m hurt, Sis. You think I’d pay someone to fight my battles? “ He laughed audibly. “I promise you if it needed to come to blows, I’d be the one throwing the punches. The Purple Heart doesn’t scare me. Knowing good ol’ Phil, he hid under his men until it was safe to come out and then took credit for saving the wounded.” He said as he took a chug of his champagne, wishing it were something stronger.

Ford was about to suggest they do so when Lynette, their dear cousin stopped him in their tracks. Lord, she was at it again. Ford normally got along with Lynette quite well as he was able to deal with her…eccentricities, but tonight, he wasn’t in the mood. “Dinner should be served soon. The chef tried to get fancy and switch up the menu.” As Lynette’s eyes got wider than Philip Sinclaire’s ego, Ford quickly calmed her down. “I handled the situation and everything is on track. As for auction participation, I can only offer my own self up for slaughter. I just ask that you place me up sooner rather than later. I’d rather get it over with as soon as possible. “
Tag Lynnette/Adrienne

Rory Gallagher
Lynette’s coy, innocent act was her specialty. The backhanded compliments, the straightforward jabs, she was a pro. Years of studying under Elizabeth Senior left Lynette with little to no actual personality unless insults, fake smiles and designer dresses equaled a personality. Rory’s smile grew even wider, if possible, at Lynette’s obvious discomfort. If it wouldn’t be too unseemly and warrant some questioning looks, Rory would have given himself an audible pat on the back. Lynette Donahue was speechless and flustered and he relished the fact that it was he who caused it. Rory would have loved to continue the charade, but again, he had business to take care of and let Lynette scamper off on her journey of becoming America’s Next Top Donahue.

As he watched Lynette leave, Sydney brought him out of his gaze. “Well, Gallaghers and Donahues are like oil and water. They do not mix. If the thought of me causes her any discomfort, I’m glad to be of service.” He said as he mirrored her cheers and smiled. Thankfully not everyone let this lifestyle and their name get in the way of being an actual person. Most everyone there judged Rory for his choice of vocation. The fact that his bar and his successes after college were all paid for by he himself held no merit in their society. He wasn’t a lawyer or a doctor or a “legitimate” businessman. He just owned a bar. Luckily, Rory rarely let the thoughts of others affect him.

Rory was about to politely excuse himself when Phillip Sinclaire made his way into the scene. “Hey.” He said in response. “On that note, Sydney, it was lovely ruining Lynette’s evening with you, but I have some business to take care of. See you around.” He said honestly. Sydney just became an ally at these barbaric and far too common events. With a quick nod towards Phillip, he made his way to his original destination. Elizabeth Donahue. And he found her, away from the party speaking with her lapdog. A heavy sigh, Rory downed the contents of his glass and set it on a waiter’s tray before marching over to her with purpose. “Mrs. Donahue, you look lovely this evening. I was hoping to have a moment of your time.” He had to choke down the vomit that threatened its way up when paying a compliment to a woman who looked at him like he was no better than a common beggar on the street. The thing that irritated Rory the most, was that in this instance, she was right.
Tag Elizabeth, Semi-tag Sydney/Lynnete/Phillip

degausser · 01-13-2016, 05:45 PM

Prescott
He could feel Cadence tense beneath his touch, no doubt irritated with the manner he chose to express his appreciation for her backside. It probably had something to do with their present environment. There were a million and one eyes everywhere and Cadence was always concerned with maintaining the facade of propriety. No doubt that was her stick-in-the-mud family's influence. Prescott was not nearly as concerned, thinking it absurd that anyone would be expected to act any different than they normally would just because the nicer china had been pulled out for dinner and the booze was more expensive. Honey, you know ho- her protest came in an urgent whisper, wrapped prettily in a kittenish purr she used on him whenever she wanted something. Sometimes it even worked. But now was not the time.

Prescott tuned her out entirely, scoping out another plump strawberry. The site of it made his mouth water, though it was just as likely the drugs from earlier were also having that affect on him. He dipped the strawberry in the chocolate and plopped it into Cadence's mouth when he realized she was still talking. All the while his hand continued to stroke her backside appreciatively. No one could deny Cadence Delongpre had a nice ass. Truthfully, it was that ass that had more of an influence over Prescott than the wide doe eyes she employed now. Her smile was the picture of innocence, his one of self-serving bemusement. It took him a moment to realize she was asking him something, having completely missed the last thing she said.

She wants to dance, remember? his mind somehow supplied for him. Prescott let out a sigh, snatching up another strawberry from the display and this time sampling the chocolate for himself. "Wrestling and dancing are hardly the same thing." When he glanced back at Cadence, she persisted with her sad and pathetic puppy dog face and he couldn't help but reconsider his last statement. Wrestling and dancing were sometimes similar, he supposed, at least when it came to sex. And if he expected his girlfriend to put out at any point during the evening, he supposed he would have to have to placate to her on some level. Ugh, but he really didn't want to dance. But he also wanted sex. Awkward dancing. Sex. Awkward dancing. Sex. Why it was proving so difficult to choose between the two was beyond him.

"I am going to need a lot of booze if you expect me to follow you out there," he relented, finally. His tone also implied that she would need to provide him with said booze.

degausser · 01-14-2016, 08:24 PM

Adrienne
I know our beloved grandmother expects the Sinclaire or Gallagher clan to cause the disturbances tonight, but if need be, we could shake things up a bit. Adrienne nearly let out a hoot, the sound vibrating off the back of her throat but never leaving the thinly pressed line of her lips only by the grace of years of practice. Elizabeth Donahue wanted no disturbances. Period. Should either of her two remaining daughters or any of her grandchildren prove less than a paradigm of good behavior she was like to suffer a conniption. Still, it was nice to know that she had a small army of family members willing to run interference for her and even risk physical peril for the sake of her spirit and sanity. Her brother's last comment about Phil even brought a real, genuine smile to her face. "Take the credit for someone else's good and honorable deeds? That certainly sounds more like the Phil I know," she agreed with a soft chortle.

It was at that moment their cousin Lynette decided to join them, inquiring after the fruits of their labors as if they had not already done this one hundred times before. Adrienne's gaze inevitably drifted back to the place she had last seen Lynette and immediately felt all the muscles in her body tense up. She had up to that point managed to completely avoid her ex-husband. For all the indifference she claimed to feel for the man, it was another thing entirely to see him in the flesh once more. All at once the pain, the confusion and the anger -- the anger most of all -- from all those years ago came back, hitting her like a freight train. Oh, how she hated him. With every fiber of her being did she hate the very sight of him. That he should choose to engage in conversation with an extended member of her family when there were hundreds of other people of little relation to choose from made her absolutely livid. Adrienne inhaled slowly and deeply, suddenly less in the mood to deal with Lynette's micromanaging.

"I've secured the participation of sixteen people so far, not including any immediate family members. Liz, Julian, Sydney ..." Adrienne paused to turn an unyielding eye on Lynette, "... and the three of us puts the head count at twenty-two." She met her cousin's sweet smile with a chilly one of her own. "Everything is all set on my end." As if there was any doubt. There wasn't.

Elizabeth
She couldn't help but think Christian's response time was peculiarly slower than normal, though the truth of the matter was that he'd had little of an opportunity to give her admittedly invasive question much thought before the two of them were interrupted. Elizabeth already had a polite and welcoming smile prepared on her lips, half-expecting to find another fellow DAR member stopping by to quickly offer the obligatory pleasantries, only to find herself face to face with the eldest Gallagher boy. Perhaps under any other circumstances she might have received the interruption more graciously, but seeing as how she had been anxiously waiting on an answer from her dear friend's grandson she saw Rory's presence as more of an intrusion and unwanted nuisance than anything else.

Still, it would be unforgivably rude of her to turn the boy out without any undue provocation on his part, much as she would have liked to. That he appeared to lack the good grace to at least let finish her present conversation did not mean she had to act in kind. Elizabeth held Rory's gaze good and long as if to contemplate his request, her face a leathery mask of emotion. Then she glanced back at Christian with a smile that did not make it all the way up to her eyes, the only indication of her annoyance. We'll continue this conversation at a later point, her look seemed to suggest. With the slightest tilt of her head she dismissed him. Only when he was out of earshot did she turn to glance back at Rory.

Elizabeth did not speak right away, her shrewd gaze taking measure of the man that stood before her. Rory Gallagher. She knew his father well enough, the man having made considerable strides in Washington over the years. She was unfortunately equally familiar with the reputations of both Matthew and Mia Gallagher as their antics seemed to have a negative impact on members of her family at one point or another through the years. But who was the eldest of the Gallagher brood? Some ten years ago there had been talk of him fathering a child but in the time between then and now there had been next to nothing else of note. His reputation was neither infamous or exceptional. Sometimes the fact that there was nothing to say said it all on its own. Rory Gallagher seemed, to her, undistinguished. Unremarkable. What business could he possibly have with the likes of her?

"That is kind of you to say. You look well yourself, Rory." The cursory pleasantries having been exchanged, Elizabeth saw no need to beat around the bush. Her time was as short as it was valuable. "What can I do for you?"

winter soldier · 01-14-2016, 11:51 PM

OOC: I swear upon all that is good and holy I will get Mia out this weekend. In the meantime, Julian is open as is Angelo.

DingosAteYurBaby · 01-15-2016, 12:43 AM

Rory Gallagher
Straight down to business. That was the Donahue way. Rory knew that his efforts to appear prim and proper would be tossed aside as nothing more than unnecessary pleasantries. Elizabeth Donahue, despite their mutual dislike for one another, was a businesswoman through and through. This was a quality they shared, though Rory was certain that she’d never admit that they had anything in common, but today wasn’t about proving his family’s worth. It was about bowing down to the almighty in hopes for results. The bemused smile on her face was that of someone seeing a monkey pat his own head while rubbing his belly. That was the Gallagher reputation in the eyes of people like the Donahues and the Delongpres. It was enough to make him question whether or not he was wasting his time, but he had to hope that there was some humanity buried deep inside Elizabeth’s exoskeleton.

“Thank you, Ma’am.” Even Rory had to roll his eyes. Who was his kidding? “First, I hope we can keep this matter between us. My father and I haven’t exactly seen eye to eye on this and I’d appreciate it if he had no involvement in this.” He stated matter of factly. He loved his father, but like most heads of prominent families, reputations were paramount. An illegitimate grandson does not help build reputations. Elizabeth almost looked intrigued as she urged him to go on. “My son. Liam. He’s ten. I’ve been in and out of the courts for the last eight years trying to fight for joint custody, but given my…indiscretions in my youth and Liam’s mother’s family status, I have made little headway.” This last time, the judge threw the case out before he could even plead his case. His baby mama’s family was an institute in the legal system and while their status wasn’t nearly as renowned as the Donahues and even the Gallagher’s, they had their hold on the New York legal system.

Rory swallowed a lump he hadn’t realized had formed in his throat. He felt vulnerable and exposed and hated every minute of it, but he knew it would happen. Liam was his priority. If graveling to Elizabeth Donahue would aide him in his mission, then he’d gladly do it ten times over. His eyes shuttered as he braced himself. “I need your help.” Rory could practically see Elizabeth’s eyes light up at that admission. “I see him…a Saturday here, a holiday there. It’s not enough. I’m his father. I’m a good father. “ He did his best to keep his emotions in check. “I need him. I need him to know me.” Rory stopped. He felt spent. Shared more to this practical stranger than he had to his own family. He knew he ran the risk of being dismissed or blackmailed or just plain laughed at, but this was it. His last hope before kidnapping and moving to a foreign country seem like a viable option. It was hard to keep eye contact with Elizabeth, but his eyes never wavered. He needed her to know his intentions and his sincerity so that hopefully it would move her to help.
Tag Elizabeth

Captivating · 01-15-2016, 01:28 PM

Cadence
Tiny beads of sweat gathered at the base of Cadence’s neck. She was uncomfortable. Prescott was still stroking her bum, and though it felt nice it also felt…wrong. Now was not the time ‘nor place. Public displays of affection should be subtle. Elizabeth Donahue preached some questionable philosophies, but this was not among them. Cadence agreed with her grandmother. She eyed her fiancée wearily, dreading conflict. Just this once. The thought weighed heavily on her mind as Prescott avoided dancing. She didn’t want to compromise convictions, but it was wise to pick and choose ones battles. “I lost you, didn’t I?” Cadence questioned, waving a hand before his face. The man she (somehow) loved blinked and swallowed. “Dancing…” she continued gently. “You know you want to.”

Her lips connected with Prescott’s cheek persuasively. He argued that wrestling and dancing were beasts of a different nature. He was not Fred Astaire. “I know it’s not your thing, babe, but you can’t be that bad. In fact, I know you’re not.” Cadence thought back to the first time Prescott danced with her. She was about to break up with him, actually. They’d been together six months and he always seemed so distant. He must have sensed her running for the exit. The night she planned to end their courtship, he took her to dinner and a walk by the pier. There, in the middle of a crowd, he spun her around. It was child-like and sweet. Those moments were few and far between with Prescott, making them impossible to forget. “If it’ll cramp your style too much,” she began, relenting, only to perk up seconds later. He was bartering! Prescott needed more alcohol in his system. A healthy buzz might put some rhythm inside of him. Maybe.

“Say no more.” Blonde hair bouncing in delight, Cadence sashayed to the bar. Waiting, she overheard her cousin and ex-brother-in-law. They were discussing the auction. Cadence crinkled her nose in annoyance. She didn’t hate Phillip, was incapable of hating anyone really, but he sure did rub her the wrong way. She wanted to mouth to Sydney to make a quick getaway, but it wasn’t her business. Delongpres were generally busy bodies but not her. Cadence returned to her fiancé’s side flushed. Your brother made a huge mistake with Adrienne, and it makes me so angry, but that won’t be us. It can’t be us. Her concerns remained unvoiced. Instead, she handed over a scotch and sipped her chardonnay. “Drink up, because I want our moves to be impressive,” Cadence flirted. “On the floor and later, if you’re good, off.”

degausser · 01-15-2016, 09:49 PM

Sydney
Given her proximity to the bar, the foot traffic in and out of the area was relatively high and so she thought nothing of the fact that she and Rory were being joined by a third entity, figuring it would only last the duration of time it took to fill a new drink. That was, until a voice spoke to her directly. The plea came so suddenly that she actually had to glance around to make sure she was indeed the intended recipient. By the time she realized there was no one else in the immediate vicinity and glanced back towards her new acquaintance, Rory was edging away, citing an urgent matter he needed to tend to. Sydney's gaze followed after him with open curiosity when his intended destination became clear and she couldn't help but wonder what business he could possibly have with her grandmother. Her gaze lingered in that general direction, shifting focus from Rory to the displaced third party now making his way through the crowd.

For a moment she was compelled by the impulse to follow him, wondering if she dared to steal Christian away for a private moment. The opportunities to get him alone had been few and far between since their arrival in Richmond with the both of them having their own responsibilities to tend to. She'd have to suffer the compulsion in frustrated silence as she couldn't bring herself to just up and abandon her new companion as rudely as that, even when that person was Phillip Sinclaire.

She, of course, knew him only by his dark reputation, the notorious manner in which he had swindled her older cousin both emotionally and financially serving as fodder for table gossip many a year after the fact. It was admittedly difficult to reconcile his notoriety with his present reformed war hero status, but Sydney resolved to reserve judgment until she knew him better herself. "I'm not sure I can be of much help to you," she said not unsympathetically. Sydney had a hard time believing her grandmother conveniently forgot to outline Phil's responsibilities as the guest auctioneer. She was someone who planned everything right down to to the most minute of details. If Phil had been left in the dark, it hadn't been accidental. She did not have the heart to tell him this though. "I can't imagine there is much more to it than thanking the guests for coming, saying a little blurb about the charity and each person as they are auctioned off before officially opening the bidding."

Before her on the bar sat her newly refilled wine glass, taunting her silently and she stared at it contemplatively. Sydney managed to glance up just in time to see another of her cousin's ordering a drink of her own at the far end of the bar. The two locked eyes in silent greeting just as Cadence was leaving. The face she made at Phil's turned back was a reminder of the toxic company she was supposedly keeping. That drink of hers was looking more tempting with each passing second. "If you were to put off hosting the auction indefinitely however, I can think of at least one person who wouldn't shed any tears over the fact." Sydney was of course speaking about herself.

degausser · 01-18-2016, 07:46 PM

Prescott
The moment Cadence scampered off to find some alcohol for him, Prescott's stimulant-induced mind flitted about anxiously to find something to occupy it. Having the attention span of a gnat, he'd already lost interest in the chocolate fondue fountain as tended to be his way the moment something's novelty wore off. Remembering the vibration in his pocket from earlier, he pulled his phone out. Two new unread texts. ARE YOU HERE YET followed by a string of heart and kissy faced emoticons. COME FIND ME!! Prescott's upper lip curled into a bemused smirk and he found himself futilely glancing around the crowd for Mia Gallagher. His luck was no better than when he stood in front of a Where's Waldo calender trying to spot the iconic red and white stripes in a kaleidescope of color. When posed a challenge some people only grew more determined in whatever endeavor they set themselves upon, but Prescott was made of different stuff. Any challenge that required a mediocre amount of effort was generally met with frustration and he quickly lost interest as was the case now.

Can't right now. Cadence wants to dance. His thumbs danced rapidly along the touch screen before hitting 'send' and then came the wait game. Mia's response time was almost always alarmingly fast, so Prescott found himself equal parts surprised and annoyed when the text went unanswered. He glanced back up to see Cadence still at the bar and then back down at his phone. Sighing frustratingly, Prescott's thumb tapped against the screen of his phone restlessly. Another idea suddenly came to him. Send me a picture of your boobs.

He had just finished choosing the corresponding emoticon

to match his present expression when Cadence returned from her sojourn to the bar. A single finger locked the phone screen and his hand slid the phone back into his front pocket in one smooth, fluid motion, before he reached eagerly for the glass of scotch his girlfriend brought him. Cadence was everything Mia was not. Her cheeks still retained some of the stubborn baby fat that gave her an almost otherworldly look of innocence, her smile one of unadulterated adoration. But it was the glimpse of mischief teasing along the corner of her eyes that had initially drew Prescott in, something that suggested there was more beneath the surface veneer of suffocating propriety. It was the on the floor and later, if you're good part that Prescott honed in on. "What constitutes as good," he inquired upon capturing her mouth with his, tasting the Chardonnay on her tongue. Prescott pressed her backwards toward the dance floor before she could even think to protest the kiss. By the time they broke apart, they were in the middle of a small congregation of people dancing. Mostly old couples, Prescott couldn't help but observe. Ugh.

"Me managing not to set something on fire?" Her family was probably already taking bets on when some sort of disaster would befall them at his very able hands. Prescott couldn't help the sneer that came to his lips as he peered down at his girlfriend. "Or avoiding any unnecessary verbal spats with your stuffy family?"

Elizabeth Donahue
For whatever she might have thought about Rory Gallagher (hint: mostly indifference) she had to at the very least appreciate the fact that he could get straight to the heart of the matter with little fuss. She had a party to run after all and neither the time nor the patience to trade pleasantries for a prolonged period. Curiosity was a thing that rarely ever entered the equation when it came to business propositions. She was a pragmatist through and through and always, always there was but one question that ever entered her mind when contemplating a new investiture. How can this benefit me and mine? Yet there it was all the same, curiosity where Rory's father was concerned. That he should think to find more help at her door than with the Gallagher patriarch was something of intrigue to say the least. Elizabeth did not have to wait long to learn why.

Ah. So it was the son.

Elizabeth knew what it was to yearn for a child. Jennifer had been sixteen when the two had their falling out, running off to California with her boyfriend and unborn child. Had she known that last fight would have been the last time she ever saw her youngest daughter face to face, Elizabeth might have done things differently. How many times had she replayed that last conversation in her head? How many different ways had she come up with to say I forgive you, I love you, and we'll get through this together? It didn't matter now. The time was gone and all that was left of Jennifer were her three daughters, two of whom remained frustratingly estranged to her. It was too late to reconcile things where her Jennifer was concerned, but maybe things could be different for Rory and his young son. In that, Elizabeth could empathize with him.

Maybe Christian was right after all. The holiday season had made her soft. Or maybe it was old age. Or the lump in her breast. Or a combination of things. Still, Elizabeth wasn't sure exactly how Rory expected her to help him. "Well that was a touching story." It was not intended to sound nearly as sarcastic as it came out. Clearly she hadn't gone completely soft. "I should warn you, my help does not come cheap. There are always conditions." And there it was. It always came back to some variant of how can I profit from this? Elizabeth could thing of a number of things right off the bat, chief among them being the Gallagher patriarch himself. With the right voice in his ear, there was one less obstacle in Washington to oppose the Delongpre agenda. "First things first. What kind of help are you looking for? Monetary support? Legal?" And gosh. Wasn't it just oh-so-convenient that her eldest granddaughter happened to be a family and divorce lawyer? Elizabeth smiled slyly, somehow already sensing his answer.

winter soldier · 01-18-2016, 10:59 PM

Mia
Matt gesticulated his point perfectly, his motions hewn from years of refining and tweaking and lesson learned after lesson learned—How Best to Deal With a Batshit Crazy Sister: An Essay by Matthew Gallagher. Mia eyed him through the thick but crystal clear glass, the water around her harmless in its painstakingly exacting chemical balance that spoke of careful and scrupulous maintenance, her gaze textbook impish and defiant both. Get. Out. Now. He mouthed, with undeniable clarity, his expression promising mass critical overload any second should Mia fail to comply. She gesticulated back, tilting her head, glancing elsewhere, tapping her gently sloping cheek as if if deep in thought before kicking into another series of dramatic, showy movements that showcased the expanse of her dress and how marvelous it looked, suspended in water and lit up in neon lights. Eventually the need for oxygen beckoned and only then did Mia consider compliance, darting toward the slim margin of empty space at the surface of the tank to gasp in a few fresh lungfuls of air. Before ducking back down again, drawing close to the glass, and pressing the length of her body against it in less of a lewd gesture this time, more of an awkward hug.

In time, as with most things for the youngest Gallagher girl, Mia grew bored with her watery playground. But she’d let Matt believe her acquiescence was a shade closer to deference to propriety than her own waning attention span. She struggled momentarily with pulling herself back over the ledge she’d so elegantly flipped over moments ago, the up far worse than the down, sliding and sliding and ripping her dress in unfortunate places before gravity stopped picking on her and she was dropping clumsily onto the floor—missing the chair completely. She nearly fell over, would’ve, had her brother not chosen in that breath to be kind and through sheer coincidence happen to be near her when she swayed and reached out, snagging his jacket collar in her damp, pruney hands.

“You found me,” Mia acknowledged, incongruous, solemn, sober. Her eyes cut to Matt’s face before crinkling around the edges and the rest of her expression followed suit—a sunrise of pure, unadulterated delight. “Your turn? I seek, you hide? Go on, then, I swear I won’t pop in for another swim the second your back is turn—“ Her phone jingled distantly, shrilly, from the confines of her clutch laying abandoned on the floor near her bare feet. Mia bent to retrieve it, unearthed her mobile, peered at the screen and warring emotions battled for dominance across her elven-like features. ’Can’t right now. Cadence wants to dance.’ Ugh. That hag. That boring, simpering cow. Why dance when Prescott was in his prime, utterly divested of clothes and bending her over any piece of furniture within reach—’Send me a picture of your boobs. '

Without regards to poor Matthew, Mia tugged eagerly at the lines of her soggy, uncooperative dress hastening to comply.


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