09-02-2013, 06:01 PM
Fingers of seductive liquid fire pulsed through Jon. The force threatened to wash him away, engulf him and burn him to ash, but it begged him to hold on for just a little longer, take control and wrestle it to his will. Reluctantly he let go, and replaced his spectacles upon his face as his eyesight began to dim again.
The man at the table stood, showing perhaps a hint of surprise that permeated his air of control over his own self-image. No, the movement Jon had seen earlier – the strange jerking of his feet – that hadn't been voluntary. It had been unexpected.
“You're --”
Jon had caught the man saying to his companion, in a clearly accusatory tone, while still in connection with the power. Did the man think she was to blame there? And if so, why?
And now, the man was standing and had deliberately turned to Jon. He raised a hand to beckon Jon over. Surely he hadn't thought Jon had knocked – no, that couldn't be. Perhaps he was just interested in the attention he was getting.
And now they were both looking at him. Well, well. So the players were beckoning the third wheel to crash their duet. This was bound to get interesting. In Jon's current state, he was feeling particularly bold and whimsical at the moment, ready to find out what kind of games he could play as well. How could he resist such an invitation?
Jon noticed the bottle at the table was nearly empty. It wouldn't do to arrive without bringing something to the table. Plus he was still in the mood to have a little more. He flagged down the attendant at the bar and ordered another bottle of the same drink that had been ordered with three empty glasses. The woman behind the bar smiled, perhaps in a bit of relief – and brought it to him. Vodka, clear as the crystal glasses set beside him at the bar.
Jon stood – taking just a moment to balance himself lest he fall, he was reasonably certain he knew how to walk, and do so in a straight line, as long as he stuck to the basics – and crossed the floor to the table. The man remained standing, and offered a hand, with a small smile, just a simple nudge of the left corner of his mouth – perhaps a parody of a smile, or a smirk. Yes, the man was intrigued, his curiosity stoked by Jon. Perhaps his tastes included those other than the woman at the table, and that was the reason Jon had been invited over. The man was definitely paddling up the wrong river if that was the case.
“Jaxen,”
the man said.
Jon set the glasses upon the table and shook the man's hand. “Jon,”
he replied.
There was a spare chair sitting to the side of the table, across from where Jaxen and the owner were sitting, so Jon moved over to it. Certainly he wasn't going to get in between the two and ruin the opportunity for closeness that, well, they both might be playing for.
Jon set the bottle he was carrying upon the table, next to the nearly empty one upon the serving tray. “It is customary where I come from to bring something to drink when invited. I hope it is to your liking.”
He sat, fiddling idly with his cufflinks – his shirt itched a bit around the wrists. The owner was still looking at him as she had earlier, a mix of curiosity, humor and – perhaps a little apprehension. Yes, there was a puzzle there. The cat playing with a ball of yarn looked more like the cat listening for a noise that just might be a larger beast in the neighborhood.
Jon smiled at her. “Quite an establishment you have here. But I didn't catch your name."
Hm. Three glasses, vodka, lime and ice. Simple enough to put together, but much more fun to allude to previous events that had transpired. He regarded the sultry woman again. "Would you be so kind as to demonstrate for me the proper way to serve this drink?”
Edited by Jon Little Bird, Sep 2 2013, 06:04 PM.