Good Life

[Jaxen Marveet]

The shithole of a thai restaurant was hardly beneath the scurges of Scion Marveet's needs. He crawled out of a cockroach infested-childhood and built an empire that the world needed on a daily basis. Sometimes, empires endured thai food.

When it was pointed out to him that a flea was bouncing behind his shoulder, distaste scrawled his lips. He straightened his tie, checked the square of his tungsten bejewelled cufflinks, and left his present company for the chance to pinch the little flea between his fingers.

Scion was a man of broad shoulders and thick torso. Faces at other tables watched him pass by with lingering witness. Some were molded with a fondness for the born-and-bred Russian, while others averted their gaze elsewhere, afraid to be caught by inescapable nets.

He came to tower over the table bearing Marcus and the lovely Elouera. The rocksalt hardness of his face split like a crack in a dam, and a familiarity spilled out onto his expression. "Elouera, what a frosted rose of winter you are."
He stole her hand and simply held onto it between the thick callouses of his own palms and so flicked a gaze to the Sigma only briefly. "Peanut allergies, Marcil?"
His laugh was mocking, but short-lived as he turned back to the apparent reason to visit this table at all.

"I thought of you today, Elouera. I saw a kitten broach on screen this afternoon and it reminded me of when we talked about those kittens that time. The diamonds on the broach were piss-poor quality and the setting was only silver, but the smirk on the thing's face made me think of all our smirking at last month's dinner parties. Give it away if you don't want it, but watch for a present on your desk tomorrow. Of course, there won't be piss-poor diamonds on the setting. I'm not a barbarian."
Scion's laugh was cavernous as he rubbed her slender hand between his palms.

And ignored Marcil entirely.



Edited by Jaxen Marveet, Sep 20 2014, 08:13 AM.