Path of the Vampire forum

The long stems of the champagne flutes glimmered like diamonds in the light as they descended. He placed the tray on the edge of one of the large frozen over fountains in the courtyard. He figured a flat surface could effectively do his job for him, which was a realization he was thankful big bucks who was running the show here hadn’t made as well. Of course. He knew how these things went. More likely than not, the elaborate use of so many bodies wasn’t about efficiency. He had seen some of the advertisements for it, and knew that the official ‘on paper’ reason was that the mayor guy wanted to soothe possible tensions. If someone had asked Grayson (and nobody ever did because he totally didn’t give off the vibe that he knew much of anything), he would have said that he thought it was all an elaborate show. He had grown up around wealth and privilege. This wasn’t just about greasing social wheels and trying to keep the train of Harper Rock’s delicate community chugging along. It was a statement. Power. Wealth. Numbers. He had no clue who Bancroft was trying to impress, but the man was certainly going out of his way to show off to someone.

Gray wasn’t checked in enough to the situation to know exactly who though.

Plus he was busy slacking off, and his sights were set on someone to help make that pass time all the better. Except it was ******* freezing. He was wearing green hose, which did nothing to protect him from the knee down. From that point up, he basically was just wearing velvet shorts, which were so breathable that it was basically like sticking his nuts on an ice block. His hands descended very briefly to protect the dispenser of his genetic inheritance with two cupped hands. Oh thank god. Warmth. A little warmth. HIs shoulders hunched in a little bit, and he shifted his weight from foot to foot so as to keep the circulation going. Except. The guy with the mane of darkness did not follow after him. He glanced back in the direction of the party, and caught a glimpse of the guy chatting with someone.

“Hey, there’s a bathroom inside.” Someone mentioned to him in passing with a tap on the shoulder.

Grayson glanced down, and realized how it looked. HIs brows flattened. “Yeah, well you can **** off.” He muttered under his breath as he straightened up, glancing around. And that was when he caught sight of a large fur coat. There. That would be his ticket out of chillsville. So he crept back in the direction of the ballroom. The woman wearing it was absolutely swimming in a pelt that looked big enough to have come from a bear. It was basically hanging off of her shoulders, and barely held on by her arms. Her dress itself was long and elegantly simple. Black as pitch. He moved upon her with what he thought was a fox. He figured...how hard would it be to just slip the thing off of her. Walk away? She was barely wearing it anyway.

So he reached out and gently tugged.

…

…

…

“Young man. What exactly are you doing?”

Tug.

Tug.

Slightly more frantic tugging.

She gave him a flat stare, and Grayson had the dignity to pull away, dust himself off, and then retreat back outside into the cold. Sure. It was still chilly out there, but it was warmer than the look the lady gave him.

So there he was, back outside, hands cupping the family jewels again, with an expression that said if anyone commented, he was going to eat them...when he caught sight of what appeared to be a fully garbed Santa booking it towards the party.

What.

The.

Actual.

****?

He smiled. It was probably the greatest thing he had seen at the entire Ball.

It was upstaged though, when he realized the guy he had been trying to entice out into the cold was finally coming. Jesus. That had taken ******* forever. And Grayson was frozen enough that playing coy (what little ability he had to do so) essentially went out of the window. So he moved closer, leaned to look into Bohan’s eyes. His teeth were chattering a little.

“You h--h-had actually better be h-h-hot stuff. Or I s-swear to g-god, I’m kicking your a-a-***.” He hissed.

First Bohan stared and took a sip of his drink. Santa was running like a bat out of hell and barely left a breeze as he did. Perhaps the artist even blinked once or twice while taking in the visual on the green legged sassy elf who had something to say while looking rather uncomfortable. Glass in hand and seemingly defying the nut freezing cold around him he finally glanced back behind him casually as if Not-so-Happy Elf was addressing someone else.  Bohan believed he had to be because the only thing he did was make the trek all the way into the great outdoors to find out where his flutes were. Instead he found the smart *** grin absent that he last spotted indoors.

“Was I interrupting something?” His hand and drink lifted to point the direction the jolly old elf headed behind him. “And if I was then good.” Bohan winked. Another sip had the drink nearly consumed. “Swearing you are going to do something means you are taking it pretty serious.”

Eyeing the glass as he set it down on the nearest flat surface next to him which gave him the time to figure out he really didn’t dress the part to carry out such a threat. He was in velvet shorts holding his nuts for comfort. What the hell was the guy going to possibly do hanging on to his family ice cubes? Not that Bohan was appropriately dressed to go a couple rounds in a ring. And the real question is …. Why? Where in the hell did Mr. Elf go from serving drinks and ditching a party goer on the clock to handing out *** whooping tickets? The drink made the elements more comfortable for him while he looked the guy over, festive out fit and all while contemplating his options. Hot stuff? Bohan had a history of having his moments. It wasn't routine but when pressed he had it in him to set a few fires. He stretched his long fingers then let them relax. Sounds like there were going to get busy.

“You know what they say. There is only one way to find out.”

Bohan figured that pretty much said it. What else was there to say? Nothing really. Which is why Bohan’s fingers went about removing his cuff links nice and slow from each wrist while the guy he was speaking with chattered some little tune with his teeth. A slow drop of his right hand had the act of pocketing them complete. A few odd, unexpected clinks when they hit the surprise in his jacket pocket barely caught his attention. He had a date with an elf it seemed and he was more than willing to get down to it. A brief brush of his fingers through the top of his dark hair settled any loose strands. A smile surfaced at his lips and his hands opened at his sides and raised a bit as if to signal he was good to go whenever Not-so-Happy Elf was ready to start. Finally his right hand turned and the crook of his index finger curled toward him as if to call the male closer to him.