sunseeker | an ill-advised venture (for sarcaskick)

I wouldn't want to push myself too hard, or I may just ruin your shoes instead.

[ Not that she's a lightweight, but she is quite small. Three is still a lot even for the content, is it not? ... Is it three? It may be three. A fourth wouldn't be the worst, probably, so she waves someone over again. ]

It's enough to feel ... pleasant? [ Not fully drunk, but certainly a little inebriated. ] But one could always feel more so ...

[ They are certainly decisions. ]

[ In what might be his first totally honest reaction of the night, Mercury cringes at the mention of her even possibly throwing up on his boots. Good footwear is hard to come by, especially for him.

... more on that later

But he recovers, joining her in calling for a refill, humming in thought for a second. ]

What if... we make a game of it? It's kind of childish, but "never have I ever" would work.

[ Normally a game where you reveal things about yourself would really not be his thing, but alcohol has a way of loosening lips. ]

Well...

[ She taps her chin in thought. It's an intriguing thought. She does like the idea of learning more, and she does not particularly mind sharing, and yet... ]

I'm interested, but it's a somewhat difficult game for me. I'm hard pressed to think of things I have not done.

[ The worst part is, she's not boasting. It's a just a perfectly innocent comment. ]

Oh really.

[ That's a remark which is extremely open to interpretation, and honestly it only invites a thousand questions, but... ]

You got a better idea, then?

I do not, but... No need to get discouraged! I suppose we'll just have to make them ... difficult?

[ And this would suggest she is indeed slightly inebriated; she is all but oblivious to how what she's saying right now could be construed. She even takes another sip of wine with a big smile. ]

[ Somewhere in the back of his mind, he's vaguely aware of the fact that he was originally here with the intent to get some business done. The deeper they get in the drinks, the less likely that is.

... but that guy will probably still be in the area tomorrow, is his tipsy conclusion.

So he settles in for the long haul, leaning forward with his arm against the table. ]

I'm sure we'll manage. Want to do the honors of kicking us off?

I'm to set the tone, am I? Hm.

[ There's things she would like to ask; she's the sort to delve into people's hopes and dreams. What motivates them. She is, however, at least vaguely aware she's issued some sort of challenge, so she'll have to uphold that somehow. ]

Alright... Never have I ever faked affection in order to get into one's drawers.

[ It feels it could go an interesting direction, at least. ]

...

[ . . . ]

I mean, I'd argue that they mistook flattery for affection, but...

[ ... but he still takes a drink, is the thing. Sure, maybe he intentionally toed the line sometimes. He's not a hero. ]

I'm hurt that that's where your mind went first, though. Heartbroken.

Oh...? [ That's interesting. She wasn't expecting to touch upon something form the first. In truth, she's less curious about whatever happened than the fact he did not choose to lie about it; it would have been simple enough. Though her thoughts end at simple curiosity. A touch less wine and she might be making all kinds of hare-brained theories trying to figure him out right now. ] Well... The knowledge is safe with me. It's as I said before--I wouldn't want to make things too easy.

[ Though she is not drinking herself. ]

I suppose you'll be wanting revenge now?

[ When the job doesn't call for it, Mercury is... generally not a liar. He's too shameless to feel like he has to lie, for better or (usually) worse. ]

I would.

[ The question, now is this: does he want to use this as a chance to actually learn something about her, or to just make her drink?

The former can come later; for now, revenge. ]

Never have I ever had sex in the middle of a crowded tavern.

Like this one.

Oh, I...

[ She swallows; her throat suddenly feels a bit dry. Mayhap she deserved that. ]

Not ... in the the middle of one, no.

[ She's not embarrassed, but she does suddenly feel somewhat frozen into place. Is it purely for the shock value, or could he be thinking about...?

She crosses her her ankles under the table. Though she is not aware of it, her tail is beginning to give an agitated little flick. ]

[ Ah. For the first time tonight, there's a crack in her armor, and unfortunately even in his increasingly inebriated state Mercury isn't one to let an opportunity slip by. There's a curl of his lips, a gleam in his eye that the alcohol can't properly dull. ]

"Not in the middle"? So... behind the tavern, then? Or on the roof, you sly thing?

[ He rests his chin in the palm of his hand, eyeing her expectantly. Whether for an answer or for her to drink, who's to say. ]

.... Private room. Nothing so bold.

[ Her tone has grown surprisingly meek, unable to meet his gaze for reasons she can't understand. It's hardly anything to be ashamed of, so why does she suddenly feel so... so something.

She sighs, and forces herself to lift her head. ]

Congratulations. You've found an adventure I haven't had.

[ Though she wonders what he'll do with such information. ]

[ There's a certain satisfaction, here, in knowing that - if perhaps only for a moment - he was able to make the famed Warrior of Light timid with just some crass remarks. But he straightens back up, lifting a finger as if to correct her. ]

Haven't had yet.

[ ... what does that mean-- ]

But no need to dwell on it, right? I think that makes it your turn again.

You're teasing me.

[ ... Obviously. Though she's disappointed in how flushed she still is despite knowing that. He really got her, didn't he? And now she keeps thinking about--

Dear gods.

Eye for an eye would be best here, but instead of scrambling for another question, she lifts a finger in signal to wait, and takes a very large portion of drink. Damn the rule of waiting for a question, she needed that. ]

I'm sorry? I've... lost my train of thought.

I might be.

[ Oh. Oh, this is good. He was worried that she'd delve into topics of feelings and family and honestly neither topic could go anywhere good, but he managed to get her stuck on his terms, in the muck where he regularly finds himself dwelling.

This is his game to win, even if this game wasn't really made to have a winner.

So he'll actually get up and slowly, deliberately, drag his chair around until it's next to hers, sitting back down in newfound proximity before meeting her gaze with a smirk. ]

Take your time. I've got all night.

[ Her heart is pounding in her ears, and that motion... does not help. Of course, she's not naive. She well understands that's the point. ]

You must think yourself very clever.

[ She pulls in a breath. Focus. Regain control of herself. Breathe out, let her smile return. She leans in somewhat, dragging a finger down his along his chest. ]

I did promise action. Is that what you want, then? A wall in one of darker corners, hoping nobody sees?

[ She would not actually consider this something low, but something new and exciting between ... friends? She does wish she'd managed a clearer answer on that earlier in the night. ]

I have a good thought from time to time.

[ What's especially funny to him is that she had asked him about his intentions earlier - and, with full honesty, he had answered that he didn't really have any. At the time, he couldn't have predicted things would swing just this way, and while he had certainly spoken suggestively he had mostly assumed she would deflect.

But just because he didn't have any intentions before didn't mean he lacked any now.

He doesn't retreat from the touch - in fact he reciprocates it with a touch of his own, his hand resting just above her knee with a light squeeze. ]

If you think I care about being seen, then you haven't really got me all figured out yet.

[ Good thoughts indeed. That's the problem with being a creature of impulse--things get taken too seriously, one too many called bluffs escalates. .... Not that she's complaining. Though a somewhat nervous laugh does spill from her lips. ]

That... was more for mine own benefit. An illusion of security, as it were.

[ She knows full well everyone is present is going to know what they're doing regardless of where they do it. But the idea of being pressed up against that back wall, mostly clothed feels ... safer, somehow, in spite of knowing better. Though it's not as though she's saying no either way.

Her palm flattens against his chest, and she tilts her head. ]

Might I kiss you?

[ An innocent question, given the context, but she'll still ask. Some seem to find the action too emotional, after all. ]

[ How?

Certainly, he had moved quickly with women before. A mutual agreement of the need for some physical relief, an itch that required impersonal scratching, an impulse sated with feelings left somewhere far behind. Those things, he was used to.

The fact that she requests the kiss, rather than simply taking it, is alien.

The fact that his stomach flutters even slightly - the fact that her request brings about the thought of her disarming smile from not long ago - is even moreso.

But, at the end of the day, Mercury is not one to deny his desires even when he questions them. So while one hand stays rested atop her leg, the other sneaks around the back of her head, fingertips grazing her nape. ]

You'd better, before I go mad.

[ Oh, thank the Twelve. She'd listen to whatever answer, of course, but working her away around that matter if he had said no would have been difficult. As it turns out, she wants to kiss him. Really, truly wants to, to a degree she's not certain she's comfortable examining.

Her fingers curl into the fabric of Mercury's shirt, and she pulls herself to his lips. Gently at first, pausing to feel the heat of his breath against her mouth, the lingering scent of the alcohol they've been consuming. She pulls back for a brief moment to look into his eyes, searching. Considering.

She thinks of testing that before I go mad bit, but being in much the same predicament, the desire to satiate herself wins over. She moves in to kiss him again--properly, this time. There's a deliberateness to it, the motions of her mouth slow and precise, yet so too is there a hunger there, a wanting of more. She ignores that, for now; she'd rather pace herself. ]

[ The way she kisses, too, is alien. "Gentle" generally doesn't fit into his vocabulary (unless it's accompanied by "teasing"), be it on the battlefield or in the bedroom or anywhere in-between. There are reasons for that. There is, in fact, a lot to unpack there. Thank goodness their mouths are otherwise occupied.

Alien, however, does not translate to bad - though truth be told there's more satisfaction to be found in the second kiss, when she begins pressing her lips to his in earnest, leading his fingers to thread through her hair in a light grip. The urge is there to go on the attack, so to speak, but there's a certain pleasure in letting her set the pace, feeling her lead the escalation.

It's nice to feel desired.

So he returns the kiss unhurriedly, savoring the hint of mulled wine on her lips; their drinks, now forgotten on the table, observe silently. His hand glides up her leg, palm running along her thigh before traveling back down, then up again in a slow rhythm. None of this had necessarily been his intention when he first invited her to the tavern.

But what will be, will be. ]

[ She can feel her breathing beginning to slow, each little breath growing heavier. There is a temptation to escalate things, and yet she finds herself continuing to want to move slowly, to drink deep of it until she can no longer stand it.

She's uncertain where she's found the patience.

She does move to undo his jacket, making eye contact as she slides doen the zipper, but she chooses not to remove it. It's simply easier to slide her fingers under his shirt this way, one hand squeezing his hip. The other, delicately tracing his abs. The feeling of skin under her fingertips helps ground, gives her hands something to do so she doesn't get overwhelmed.

Though she pulls her face back after a moment, flushed. It's getting.... Difficult to keep this up. ]

Can we move? [ she's almost loathe to, but truly, anywhere would do. The back wall, the stairwell, the bar, the filthy mattress kept upatairs-- ] I want to feel... smothered.

[ To be pinned into place, have his full weight pressing against her.

Perhaps she's losing her patience more quickly than she thought. ]

[ He wonders, at first, if she's actually going to go for the middle-of-a-crowded-tavern scenario when she unzips his jacket, sneaks her fingers beneath his shirt. Would he stop her? No... no, probably not. He has no grand reputation to uphold, and he always preferred living in the moment with no regard for the consequences.

It gets him in trouble sometimes. Trouble can be fun.

But she draws away, giving him the chance to take in the sight of her again - the new hint of color in her cheeks, the haze that comes over one's eyes when they're lost in the heat of the moment. It's a good look on her; he looks forward to seeing it again in the future.

... The future? No, no. Live in the moment.

Her request now is far less innocent than when she had simply asked to kiss, bringing out a low chuckle as his hand circles from the back of her head to cup her chin in his fingers. ]

Sure. But not too far.

[ The hand at her thigh slides up again, this time not stopping to retreat back to her knee but instead advancing further and further up, until his thumb finds itself pressed firmly between her legs. ]

I don't really think I can wait much longer.

[ Truth be told, the thought that she could even be allowed to back down hasn't occurred to her. She has a bad habit of being too honest--of taking what could be construed as a suggestion to heart. It might betray a certain innocence, but therein lies the rub: though she doesn't live on the shady underside of it, she's still a thrill-seeker at heart. A stubborn, impulsive one, easily swept in flights of fancy, at that. Such is like to make little quips dangerous, and so it is that the idea of saving her own dignity doesn't does not come to mind.

She's committed to her path. Thinking has been long abandoned. Foresight, she never had much to begin with.

Her breath hitches at where his finger lands, her fingers curling ever so slightly. She isn't going back on what she said she wants, but it's made it quite difficult to muster the willingness to stand. Her hips seem to want to rock into it on their own. ]

... Nor I.

[ She gives a weak smile, diluted by her own state of need, and disentangles herself to rise to her feet, relecutantly. She grabs one of Mercury's hands and pulls him along, not thinking much of it, or whether he'll chose to go along with it or not. But either way, she does not think she could wander far if she wanted to right now. Just a few feet, as the plan was all along. (A plan in her mind. Not an idea.)

She places her back against the wall and waits. ]

an ill-advised venture (for sarcaskick)

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