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Post by Jack Moretti on Nov 24, 2006 19:52:47 GMT -5
Ah yes, the night club. In the common person's club, it was always wild yet at the same time simple. It was cheap, lacking taste and refinement. The women there had no self esteem, no sense of pride in how they dressed. And the men were disgusting pigs, who indulged in eight dollar bottles of champagne.
The Collingstead crowd had certainly not lowered themselves to these standards. Both men and women dressed in expensive styles and fashions, and never the cheapy risque outfits of the common. They also didn't drink cheap filth. This was evident as Jack sipped at his Clos du Mesnil. He watched the members of the club smugly from his corner, critiquing their clothing and drinking choices. He crossed one Armani covered leg and rested his ankle on his other knee before settling back against the leather seat.
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Post by Isabelle Arien on Nov 24, 2006 20:25:58 GMT -5
Isabelle slipped through the doors of the club, pushing past a few of the people lingering by the entrance. She pushed her hands into the pockets of her new True Religion skinny jeans as she made her way through the club. Finally sitting down in a quiet corner, she leaned against her seat. It was her usual place, away from the few creeps that managed to make it in.
Collingstead's club was most definitely a higher quality than you'd find in most places, but even it had a few of the typical drunk pervs. Just on the way to her corner, she'd had a few older men try to look down her silk camisole. Ew. So it was a relief to be able to sit back, relax for a minute or so, and just people-watch. She pushed her hair out of her face, getting a better look around. This would be so much easier if she had a drink in her hands. Just something to sip, so she wouldn't feel like she was staring. But she hadn't decided yet what she wanted.
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Post by Jack Moretti on Nov 24, 2006 20:53:00 GMT -5
Jack raised a thick blonde brow at the girl who place herself annoyingly close to him. Of course, to him close was 15 feet away. He took a moment to observe her. She was cute, with nice hair and great eyes. She seemed to be doing the same thing as him: watching. He took another sip of champagne while he thought about going over to talk to her.
Of course he would. He stood and strolled lazily over, never taking his eyes off of her. He soon was standing before her, and flashed what he hoped was a charming grin before extending a hand.
"Hey. I'm Jack. Don't believe I've seen you around," he said. He still held his champagne, still extended his hand, still smiled.
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Post by Isabelle Arien on Nov 24, 2006 21:00:55 GMT -5
"I'm Isabelle," she told him, smiling politely and shaking his hand.
Politeness could go a long way, she knew. When you've been told the same thing since before you could understand, it tends to stay in your head. Be polite, Isabelle. Remember your manners, Isabelle. You're representing our family, Isabelle. It made her want to roll her eyes again right there, but she managed not to. Although, of course, it would be fun to see his reaction if she did. He was well dressed, as most guys here were, and attractive. She was sure he wasn't used to girls he just met rolling their eyes at him for what would seem like no reason at all.
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Post by Jack Moretti on Nov 24, 2006 22:16:23 GMT -5
Jack was surprised by her firm grip, and never let that grin fade.
"Mind if I sit?"
He liked her smile, but she seemed distracted, distant. Almost dismissive of his greeting. Jack was slightly taken aback. He wasn't used to this. Not with women. But he also was obnoxiously persistant, and didn't budge as he waited for her answer. Who knows, maybe he'd call this one back.
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Post by Isabelle Arien on Nov 25, 2006 10:17:52 GMT -5
Isabelle shrugged, trying to come up with a polite response. But even after all the training from her parents, manners weren't her strong point.
"Um.. go ahead," she said, then blushed realizing how far from polite and refined it sounded.
But maybe it was good, just to get it out now that she was bad at this. If the conversation was going to continue at all, he would have realized soon enough. It was better to prepare him early, while he could still change his mind without seeming rude.
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Post by Jack Moretti on Nov 25, 2006 15:06:29 GMT -5
Jack couldn't tell if she was nervous, annoyed, or just indifferent. She seemed to be distancing herself, even as she gave the okay to sit. He sat regardless, making sure to give her breathing space and not be too close. He continued to lightly sip champagne, then began to wonder if she wanted anything.
He signaled to a scrawny waiter, one of those teacher's pet type of individuals, the ones who bustled around and worked their asses off. The kind that were just asking for a beating. Said waiter came over in a hurry, mumbled something about helping them, and then stood there, not meeting their gaze.
"I'll have another Clos du Mesnil," he said lazily, then added to Isabelle, "And perhaps you might like something?"
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Post by Isabelle Arien on Nov 25, 2006 15:19:29 GMT -5
Isabelle nodded, smiling a little. "I'll have the same."
Sure, she had no idea what a Clos du Mesnil was, but there was no reason not to try it. Besides, if she were to actually think about it, she'd never come up with a decision. There were so many she hadn't tried, how could she pick what drink to try next?
Isabelle looked at Jack, tilting her head slightly to the side as she did. He looked a bit older she was, but then again most people in here were. She rarely spent time with people her own age, very few had similar interests and even less could handle her constantly changing her mind about anything and everything.
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Post by Jack Moretti on Nov 25, 2006 15:29:25 GMT -5
The corner of Jack's lip turned up and her choice, and he wondered if she knew anything about champagne, or anything about drinking at all. She seemed too nice to be someone who comes to clubs and bars to get drunk.
The waiter returned with their drinks, set them on the table, and practically ran off. Jack raised a brow, as he often did, and watched the kid for a moment before turning back to Isabelle. She was looking at him, and he grinned in return, taking the time to look her over once more. She was younger, but hey, whatever. He wondered for a moment if she was even legally an adult....
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Post by Isabelle Arien on Nov 25, 2006 15:40:57 GMT -5
Lifting up her drink, Isabelle took a sip, not sure what to expect. So it was champagne, she realized, as she tasted it. She took another sip, then set it back down on the table.
"Interesting..." she said quietly, more to herself than him. "Not quite what I was expecting."
Isabelle then pulled herself away from her thoughts, to focus more on the conversation - or lack of conversation - with Jack. She knew she tending to appear distracted, making anything social slightly awkward. But she smiled, a real smile rather than her polite one, hoping to make up for it.
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Post by Jack Moretti on Nov 25, 2006 20:29:46 GMT -5
Jack liked this new smile. It was less fake, less impersonal. He watched her for a moment before taking a look around the room. There wasn't really anyone of interest besides a few elite kids and some preps. Nobody worth speaking to. He turned back to Isabelle, attempting to think of something to say. He still wondered how old she was. Sure, most of the people in the club were underaged. Who would rat them out? Who would tell? It was so damn easy to get a fake ID these days that all sorts of high school and college kids were able to get in.
"Do you mind if I ask how old you are?" Her age probably wouldn't make a difference in anything, but he was still slightly curious.
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Post by Isabelle Arien on Nov 25, 2006 20:36:26 GMT -5
To lie or not? At 16, she was most likely not the youngest girl in the club. But Jack looked a few years older, probably in college. And the majority of college guys she'd met kept their distance once they realized she was still a couple years from being a legal adult.
But Jack seemed to be asking more out of curiosity. And it wasn't like he'd freak out over a fake ID. Everyone had them these days, it wasn't a big deal. In fact, if he was younger than 21 he probably had his own fake ID. So, seeing that it seemed safe enough to tell him, Isabelle went ahead and did.
"I'm sixteen. How old are you?"
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Post by Jack Moretti on Nov 25, 2006 20:41:20 GMT -5
She was even younger than he had expected. Yet he didn't care. What good was statutory rape, when nobody ever told? Besides, Jack wasn't even sure he wanted that from her. Even though he had never had a girlfriend for more than a couple weeks, he always had his eyes out for that someone who he might actually consider worth dating. That was usually the problem. Every girl he dated had something annoying, something that made him cheat and not feel guilty. But maybe, just maybe, there would be an exception.
"Nineteen. Do you go to the highschool here in Collingstead, or are you from out of town?"
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Post by Isabelle Arien on Nov 25, 2006 20:48:45 GMT -5
"In Collingstead," Isabelle answered.
So he was in college. Or at least, old enough to be. She didn't recognize him from school, so it was quite likely that he was. Jack didn't seem like the kind to fail and get held back. And dressed as he was, she doubted that he would go to high school outside of Collinstead. College was really the only logical place. People from around here went straight to a university after high school, unless they were taking a year off to 'see the world'. Anything less would be a disgrace to the family.
"Do you go to college around here?" she asked him.
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Post by Jack Moretti on Nov 25, 2006 20:58:03 GMT -5
"Yeah, I just started going to the one in town. My family just moved here, so I had to restart everything."
At least the conversation was progressing, however slowly it might be going. They still formed one sentence replies, but soon they might even move into paragraphs. But he had time. And he didn't have anything better to do, so he might as well sit here and talk. She seemed to be less tense, and that just made the conversation easier.
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