C'est la cravate qui m'ensorcelle

[Fabien Berléand]

<sub>Fabien was a fan of ties. He was. There was absolutely no question about it. Oh, what Fabien would do for a tie. Would Fabien realistically compromise his integrity for an attractive tie? Certainly. Was an attractive tie among many things he'd compromise his integrity for? Absolutely. Was he a materialistic bitch with latent homosexual tendencies? You have no idea. At the end of the day though, was it all just Euro-fabulosity allowing him to get away with his out-of-the-realm-of-normalcy behavior? You got it.

In anycase, integrity or no integrity, Fabien loved a good tie. It wasn't even 'a French thing', really, there was just something about the psychology behind a tie. They were...They were enrapturing. They literally had the power to ensorcer him. If it was at all possible, he would probably make love to a tie. Okay, actually, no. That's breaching a few established borders. Not only was that breaching a few established borders, that was...that was beyond the point of disturbing.

Sure, he'd make some compromises for something pretty to throw around his neck, but he had some boundaries. Making love to ties didn't fit into his tie fandom repetoire. Is it even possible? Even if it was a possibility...Alright. We'll just stop beating around the bush and lay this on the table right now: Yes, Fabien would make love to a tie. Given the opportunity.

Given the opportunity he'd also deliver a bitch slap to this sales lady. This was Bloomingdales, not Sears. Jesus Christ.

(sorry, this is awful. i'm a bit distracted.)</sub>

[Jeremy Stiller]

Turning sharply, he cursed himself under his breath. It always happened when it was least expected didn’t it? No, we’re not talking about genitals here, or anything similar, we’re talking about tripping over. There, right in the fucking middle of the mall, he’d done a replica of the famous kamikaze roll, mixed with something that looked similar to a drunken man falling over his own two feet. All he knew was; that he certainly hadn’t done it on purpose, and truthfully, if he had been able to rewind time, he would a have certainly attempted to cut out the current part. And now, he had to find a way to recover from the scene of his performing act, without looking like a complete and utter idiot. The onlookers; which there were about three hundred of, all seemed contently amused about the day’s joyful entertainment. Not only had he rolled, yelping and swore, he’d also spilt coffee all down the front of his shirt.

With what looked like the beginning of a push up, he sprung casually to his feet, quite effortlessly. Taking a quick glance around the complex, he tried to make out that nothing had even occurred, though it had. Strutting into a stance, he began to pace away from the location of his accident, still trying to pretend nothing major had happened, he didn’t succeed though, and everyone knew it. Approaching a clothing store, he broke into a jog, trying to cover as much ground as he could in a limit of time. Dashing through the automatic doors of the boutique, he eyed the floor as though being chased by the paparazzi.

Once inside, he made a quick dash for the large array of evening wear, seriously, he was desperate. Here, he found company, another male, who seemed freakishly interested in the subject of a vital ingredient of the suit; ties. The male; who was obversely internationally raced, made the piece of clothing look just fascinating as his eyes glided upon the material. Jeremy would, and could have laughed, but it wasn’t necessary, unlike buying something new to wear for the occasion. Sure, it may have been only shopping, but doing anything, and anything at all with coffee stains marked right down the front of your clothing was just cheap, seriously. Call him obsessive, or whatever your heart desires, but it doesn’t mean it’s true, not at all.

[ haha , yours ish brilliant compared to mine [ && not to say it wasn't fantastical anywhooos ]

[Fabien Berléand]

<sub>When did this love affair with ties begin? Did it begin in childhood? Did it begin in Cannes? In Nice? In Brittany? In Paris? Was it a love mutually exclusive to ties? Or was the wealth of Fabien’s emotions (and not only his emotions, but his pocket) shared by other vestments and/or accessories? Without pointing any fingers, would it be a safe bet to say that a certain Frenchman in Bloomingdales was had a tendency to be a materialistic, and it wasn’t the clerk upstairs in lingerie? Would it be safe to say that while Fabien clearly was in favor of ties, that perhaps this attraction caressed over clothing in general?

These questions aside, we should establish, it’s not a crime to care about your outer appearance. If anything, it’s a crime to disregard it. Just keep that in mind. Nor is it a crime to take a liking to something. His fascination with ties was no different than a person’s fascination with watches, or stamps maybe. People collected watches, people collected stamps, and by god, there were also quite a few people who collected ties. It wasn’t absolutely unheard of. Granted, he wasn’t collecting novel ties that said asinine things like “Daddy’s Boy”, “I love my grandmother”, so on and so forth, he was a collector of couture ties…but chances were so was Donald Trump. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with being alike Donald Trump. If anything, that’s admirable. That’s showing good leadership skills, right there. Uh, anyway, we’re getting off track. We were getting off track like, over ten sentences ago. We were getting off track somewhere in the last post, right around, “breaching established borders…”

Back to Fabien and what he was doing, versus Fabien and why he was sneaking off to big name department stores and maxing out his credit card – and even further, why this could be condoned because it was in the ball park of something a stamp collector or Donald Trump or whomever would do. What was Fabien doing? Fabien was recovering from having just yelling at a saleswoman. It wouldn’t have been an opportune time to walk out in a huff, but he was too enthralled gazing into the proverbial “eyes” of six hundred dollar ties. Oh, and not only was he gazing at the ties, he was putting them up to his shirt and seeing how well they’d match with what he was wearing. It was a sport, it really was. It was about as enrapturing as department store activity gets, I could tell you that much.

(my posts have been lacking. yours are brilliant.)</sub>

[Taylor Dear]

<sup>As Taylor walked through the men's department on her way to the escalator, she suddenly realized why some stores like Saks kept their menswear in other locations - they tend to make complete foold of themselves in public, and heaven forbid a woman, especially one from a place like Collingstead, have her spouse be a public embarassment. Embarassment insurance was one of the few commodities that would be in high demand, if it was actually something you could sell.

But, since it wasn't, Taylor got quite the show on her way to the escalator. Not only did she get to witness Fabien staring a tie with a look of...love in his eyes, but she got to see Jeremy Stiller run into a statue, roll around on the floor, and spill coffee on himself. All in a matter of minutes. She decided that her trip to the fifth floor could wait at least five minutes while she made small talk with Jeremy and Fabien both.

She was sure they both knew she was coming, the sound of her heels were a sure signal. Today though, they were a little less outrageous that usual, being simple black stilettos, under a pair of Seven jeans, topped off with a plain white camisole, and white ad gold embroidered blazer. Understated, for Taylor, at least.

"Hello gentlemen," she drawled, making her presence even more noted, and hiding a light smirk. The predicaments she found people in sometimes were just plain funny, and everyone knew they would be retold, in vivid detail, to Madison. It was a known fact, and probably more than enough motivation to never do anything too outrageous.</sup>

[Jeremy Stiller]

With a nod, he smiled over at the female, known best as Taylor Dear. A nice character, sweet and all, but a pure bitch, because she was an Elite. Though he did see her as a pure bitch, it was only because she was an Elite. If she’d ended up as something below that, an Individual for instance, then she wouldn’t find herself with a name like that. It wasn’t a bad thing; being a bitch in Jeremy’s eyes though. You’d much rather be seen as a bitch then a opportunity, as if you were one; you’d have much more chance of being screwed, and then left by dear Jeremy. He wasn’t always like this, yeah, he’d had some great relationships, boring though, and that’s exactly what ended them; boredom. The great part of sleeping, and then leaving, was you could never really get bored, because each ride was different, it had to be. He hadn’t actually had a one off with an Elite, and wasn’t eager to either. Once, he’d had a one night stand with Alexa. She was your perfect example of an Opportunity, she was nice, but annoying, and didn’t exactly impress him either. Not only was she filled out nicely, she wasn’t exactly the smartest of the bunch, so it took no effort for Jeremy to sleep with her, easy really. He’d grown up a lot from then though, like back when he was sixteen, he’d have done anything to score Madison Rockefeller, but now, he didn’t even find an attraction in her.

Oh great, two Elites in the one building, standing right in front of him even. There was Taylor, who he knew well, but the other he didn’t even know. From his appearance though, straight away Jeremy could tell that it was Mr. Fabien Berléand, the French Elite. From various rumours, Taylor and Fabien once had something, but it was a lie, and he could tell. Fabien was a well dressed man, his clothes tailored to perfection, and his looks never faulting. Suiting dark brown hair, maybe black combed back and styled, very gentleman like, from the looks of it, he seemed to hold the unique obsession of ties. This was slightly understandable in Jeremy’s eyes, occasionally he wore a tie, but not the sort Fabien would wear, as Jeremy imagined the European buying a three hundred dollar accessory, instead of himself, who would be perfectly fine with a cheap buy from a department store to wear loose around his neck, contrasting nicely with a t-shirt, just something simple.

“Taylor.” With another nod, Jeremy fashioned her name. Instead of a greeting, he usually just welcomed distant friends with their names, occasionally just skipping to the ‘how are you’ part. The issue of the moment was the Frenchman though, he didn’t yet know anything about him, except for his name, yet he wouldn’t rest until they’d covered the topic, though he wasn’t about to ask the man about anything. Now, at this age, Jeremy had started to see male’s as that; men. Teens, or Teenagers weren’t really what they were, even if they were a year or two younger than himself. True, he was now a legal adult, but it didn’t really make anything different, and he certainly didn’t feel any different either, seeing as ever since he was about fourteen, he’d smoked, drank and driven, so now that he was eighteen, nothing really felt different. “Mhm. Out shopping I see. Without Hunter.” Yes, he made it very clear that the female wasn’t sporting her latest accessory; her boyfriend. Taylor and Hunter had only been together for a short amount of time, but still they didn’t seem to be making an effort with the relationship, which was sad.

[Taylor Dear]

^{She cocked an eyebrow at Jeremy. "If you're trying to cast aspersions on the fidelity of a relationship, mine and Hunter's should be of no interest to you, Germ," she smiled curtly. Oh, however it might seem, Taylor was not 'stepping out' on her recently acquired baggage. If anything, he was the one backing out of this relationship. He had an issue with her parents, he had convinced her that the Peace Corps was more important than college, he was the slightly over-possesive one. Taylor Dear was nowhere close to being the agressor in this relationship. Not by a mile. "And besides, although you may be Hunter's best mate, what we do together, and seperatley should not be any of your buisness," she kept her fake smile on, before she turned quickly to examine a tie. It was nice, but a little too...flamboyant for any man. Except maybe Fabien. Or possibly her father.}

[Fabien Berléand]

_{“Qui est ceci?” his eyes glided over to Jeremy. Jeremy who he very well knew was Jeremy without ever really speaking to him. However, Fabien knew a lot of things. As indefinite and cliff-hangeresque as that sounds, there was no better way of putting it. Fabien did know a lot of things. There was no categorizing it. He knew a lot of things about everything. He knew a lot about France. He knew a lot about wine. He knew a lot about food. He knew a lot about ties. He knew a lot about music. And above all, he knew a lot about the people in Collingstead. If there was anyone as up-to-date on gossip, if there was anyone who could tell you a name, who could point who’s who, who could tell you where and who to go to and what’s going on where, it was Fabien Berleand. He was French. He went to day spas and had a disconcerting obsession with ties. He played piano. Maybe there was a certain mystique about him. Or maybe, just maybe, he was a gossip. Then again, that’s assumed with “he’s French”, isn’t it?}

[Taylor Dear]

<sup>"Et je suis une imbecile? Tu est un barbare homosexuel," she fluttered her eyelashes, before deciding to introduce the two...gentlemen, if you exuse the misuse of the word. Well, she figured that Fabien could get away with being called a gentleman, if only because he was French. Otherwise, he'd just be a pompous cow.

"Jeremy Stiller, this is Fabien Bereland. Fabien, this is Jeremy. He's tight with Hunter," she droned, not really wanting to introduce the two. Let them meet each other, she complained to herself. And it's not like Fabien didn't already know everything about everyone. Sometimes she wondered if he knew everyone's sizes too. She shuddered. That would be too creepy.

"And, if you gentlemen don't need to me to help you find suitable clothes," she directed that comment more towards Jeremy than Fabien. Hell, she would almost let Fabien buy clothes for her. He needed no help, "I'll be upstairs looking at shoes."</sup>

[Jeremy Stiller]

Ha, her attitude on the last statement was almost as if she didn’t trust poor Jeremy, oh why could that be? No. Jeremy could by his own clothes, but why not let your mother do it when she finds it an enjoyable activity. With a shrug, and a nod, he let no words slip from his mouth. Words weren’t needed at the moment. Shoes; stupid obsession held by the girls of the modern day society, and generation. There really wasn’t any point in collected such an item, like he seriously didn’t know of any girl who’d worn all the shoes she’d bought, and yes, he did know quite a few females. Even his sisters were like this; there was Holly; the bitch, who owned about thirty pairs, his younger sister; sweet and innocent Megan, who owned around twenty, but this was nothing, nothing at all compared to their mother; Jan, who owned at least one hundred pairs of blooming shoes. Himself; Jeremy, only owned a few; his motorbike boots, a pair of flip flops, and his converses, seriously, what else do you need?

“Have fun.” He said with pure sarcasm. It was funny really, the relationship between the three; Mr. Fabien Berléand, Miss Taylor Dear, and himself; Jeremy Stiller. Now that they’d all sort of been formally introduced to each other, he felt alright, not so worried anymore. Fabien seemed like a decent fellow, nothing special, but nice, and Jeremy really didn’t mind that he was French, he could have been from the land of quaver fruit for all he cared. Internationals were always good, he himself was one. Born in Scotland, he’d moved here at a young age, he supposed it was a similar situation to Mr. Berléand. Another question puzzled him, did the male’s parents live here too? That is if he did actually have parents, likely though. Of course, Jeremy’s did, his mother and two sisters were quite a large part of life in Collingstead, but that wasn’t really the point, he was much more interested in Fabien than himself.

[Fabien Berléand]

<sup>When it came to Fabien, a lot of things weren’t warranted. Take for example, as soon as Taylor began her departure from the conversation, his little slip of “pute”. Sure, hyperactive middle schoolers could get away with calling their girlfriends “ho”, “whore”, “slut”, “ho bag”, “skank” and a bevy of other things in the same category, but from where Fabien was standing it was unwarranted. As much as he may have wanted to be one, he was not a middle school aged girl, nor would he ever become one. And even if that was in the cards, it still technically wouldn’t be in the cards, because that window of time had come and gone. That door closed about three years ago, give or take. Sometime after he went through puberty. And come to think of it, his structure didn’t really allow for that sort of transition. His body was built for Armani suits, not Vera Wang dresses. Then again, that hadn’t really been investigated. It’s nothing anyone wants to delve into though, Bloomingdales included, so let’s move on. With Taylor’s leave came that, as we stressed, quite unwarranted outburst as well as Fabien’s attention completely shifting focus to Jeremy.

“Hi.” It was blunt. And it over exaggerated his accent. Fabien wasn’t much of a charmer, though.</sup>

[Jeremy Stiller]

With eyes, that made out that Jeremy was totally and utterly wasted, he repeated the male’s words. “Hi.” Not even a smile cursed his lips, it was sad. And now, what the hell did Taylor expect them to strike conversation about? They’d been introduced, so they couldn’t talk, or ask about that. And now they’d said ‘hello’, or ‘hi’ as the case may be, so there was no point in greeting, or welcoming each other, as that would make them sound, and probably look like malfunctioned robots. So, where were they to talk about. Being polite, as it may have seemed, he daren’t not speak of the ties, as Fabien might accidentally bring up the topic of Jeremy earlier accident involving coffee. Oh shit. Just as these thoughts ran through his head, he realised the stains were still present, they must have been.

His eyes wandered blankly down his chest, to where the coffee had obversely landed, and yes, they were still there. Dark, almost black against his grew shirt. The left of his lip twitched upwards, giving an embarrassed glance at the male. “Yeah, I suppose you saw my little episode down there.” He stared blankly at the lower level of the building which he could see quite well from where they stood. That’d been where he’d found total misfortune and kamikaze rolled. He would have sort of laughed at this situation, and looking back on it, he knew it would have been wise to do so, he didn’t though, instead, he stood there, in complete silence, looking as though he was going to fall into a total breakdown, for no reason, but that was sort of the expression pressed sharply across his definite features.

[Fabien Berléand]

<sub>He smirked. Because damn it, that’s what he did. He was profane, he shrugged, and he smirked. Oh, and he scoffed. How he scoffed. He would not be a Berléand without scoffing, and doing so often. His expression read: “Who didn’t see it?” It was the sort of expression, that no matter who the person was, no matter what the situation was, it was bound to make you feel uncomfortable. You knew exactly what it said, but there was still an air of vagueness. It was, in short, unsettling. It was the same feeling you got when you knew someone was talking about you, but at the same time you couldn’t be so sure. Because… why would someone be talking about you?

And then again, they had no reason not to talk about you. It was the look on his face; it was that genre of looks that made social situations awkward ones. It was characteristic of the right hand man (or girl, rather) of a school’s Queen Bee, or whatever the hell they’re referred to as. As typical of a Queen Bee’s runner it was, Fabien’s persona fit that. He was the person on the sidelines making things all the worse. He wasn’t the one who was going to publicly humiliate you, he was the person who was going to comment afterwards and remind you that it happened. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves though.

“I did.”</sub>

[Jeremy Stiller]

And from his tones, he certainly hadn’t been very impressed. For maybe it was the look, Jeremy was unsure. Trying to swallow the great jump of disgust down his throat, he found the present time a wonderful chance to catch up on some thinking time, oh and admiring. He stared, totally blankly down at the floor, not looking at anything in particular, as there was nothing out of ordinary about this certain floor, he just found it much more comfortable to have his eyes forced to the floor, succeeding in avoiding the male’s glance. True, the two male’s must have been of a similar age, probably even the same, but the way that Fabien acted, the once rebelling and outrageous creature felt small and under total control of him, it was scary really. And disliked by Jeremy, a lot, this wasn’t Fabien, but maybe it was his attitude, or his strict features, and his stance, filled with poise. It was clear; if Jeremy had been cast into the Elites, Fabien showed a perfect example of what Jeremy would have wanted for himself, the looks, the control, the accent, the everything really.

“Yeah, well I suppose the whole bloody mall did, so no worries.” With a laugh, he felt as though all was well again, and he figured it was. Mmm. Boredom was beginning to take over, and it was unnatural for Jeremy to be bored, there usually had to be something to occupy him or he’d because never slow, and I mean his brain would sort of stop working, and he’d talk in an unorderly fashion, weird, seriously. He must not get bored, yes, he repeated it, so there was then something going on inside his mind, spooky really. “So…” Pausing he thought. “You like ties.” It was more of a statement than a question, as he was certain that, yes Fabien did like ties, very much so.

[Fabien Berléand]

_{“What do you think of Hunter and Taylor?” it was always good to get some perspective, wasn’t it? After all, he did care dearly for Taylor (about as much as Fabien could ever realistically care for someone), and Jeremy and Hunter were friends, correct? There was nothing wrong with getting some perspective. It was a little out of left field; it had the ability of catching someone off guard. But let’s face it. As much as Fabien adored ties, that wasn’t a topic to be covered in conversation that wasn’t between him a certain Etienne Laurent. If he was going to have a discussion with someone, it was going to be about something with some relevance. Well, that and as afore stated, Fabien was a gossip.}

[Jeremy Stiller]

With a light shrug, the top of his lip quivered for a second, of at least rose. Thinking certainly wasn’t necessary for this question, as he knew the answer well. The relationship between Hunter, and Miss Taylor was something, something special; yes maybe, but it was something. True, it was a well known relationship, as there weren’t many students in Collingstead that hadn’t seen them together, or heard the news, and well, that was good. Having an unknown relationship was strange, but in a way; good, as you could break it off, and no one would really make a big deal, or others could catch you flirting, or even cheating with someone else, and they weren’t aware you were actually in another relationship, so basically; there was no reason to dob; as they seemed to do. They were a good pair really; Hunter and Taylor, only a few faults, but their busy schedules seemed to be rubbing off on their relationship lately. Breaking up would result in Hunter becoming jealous of the on-going friendship between Jeremy; his friend, and Taylor; his ex, and this was certainly the last thing either of the three wanted, and so, all three still wanted their relationship to work out; seriously.

“Yeah, I have nothing against it. Not sure if it’s going to last, but I’m sure it’s been fun for them. Their hectic family life, and the Peace Corp and everything else seems to be against their relationship, but I don’t have a problem with it. Sure, a taken man is never as outgoing and adventurous as a single bloke it, but we’ll all cope.” Another shrug after his words, and he was done. Though he was curious about why the male was so interested in Jeremy’s opinion towards Taylor and Hunter, he wasn’t really suspicion, or even surprised. Collingstead was like that really, everyone wanted to know about everyone’s lives and thoughts, and so the way to know, was to ask, gossip and share. He didn’t mind a life like this, even if he was scene as a Rebel. Sure, he still had an opinion, and sure, he loved to share it, and so yes, that’s exactly what he did. “What about you Mr. Berléand? What do you think of Hunter and Taylor issuing such relations?” He asked with true dignity. Just because he wasn’t a Elite, didn’t mean he didn’t have an interest into others.