"--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--"
<Canaan>:*flick*. *flick*. Canaan cupped his hands around the end of the last cigarette he had in his possession. The lighter was running out too. It seemed that everything in his life as of late was coming to its end. Really it was. Nearly eight hundred miles in his rearview mirror was the life he left behind. Conspiracy to Commit 1st Degree Murder, Accessory to 1st Degree Murder, Extortion, Making False Statements, just to name a few things in that mirror. Hell while we are at it he was sure there were a few parking tickets in there too. The largest sum of what he left behind was the $20 million in net worth. However with all of the charges brought down against him, his accounts were frozen and all of it now belonged to Uncle Sam. One could say that he chose a good time to leave Chicago.Now he stood in Harper Rock, leaned up against all he had left, the 2015 Mercedes S-Class Maybach. Not that it mattered. He was going to ditch it in this parking lot and never look back. He recited it over and over in his head. *you are now Canaan Requiem….Hello…Canaan Requiem…pleasure to meet you….oh….My name is Canaan.* The adjustment to this new life was quite the task but Canaan was never one to back down from a challenge. He was a survivor now. This was a position that he felt uneasy with. No. He ******* hated it. He was a predator, a political shark, and a cunning business man. All the things his deceased father had taught him to be. Now he was nothing. He knew no one, had no ties to this new city, and had to start from the bottom.
Well perhaps not the bottom. He still looked like he was worth 20 million. He continued to puff on the last cigarette he swore to himself he would ever have, nasty habit it was. He hated that he had fallen into it in his younger days and so did his family. He could hear his father now “Charles that stick is a crutch. Others who see you smoking it will see you as weak. Put it out!” the truth was that every time he heard his father saying that he knew who the others his father referred to were. His father. Yes it seemed no matter what Canaan achieved it was not good enough for his father.
As he lingered on in thought the cigarette continued to burn. His eyes peered into the distance, looking around at the city’s lit up sky. “****!” he quipped as the cherry of what remained burned his finger. He tossed the butt onto the ground and would take his perfectly shined Armani’s sole and stamp it out. He leaned forward and pushed himself off of the car. He would open the passenger door and pull out what he needed off of the front seat. In a manila envelope were all of his forged documents declaring him a naturally born citizen of Canada. He had a passport, driver’s license, birth certificate, and Canadian citizenship card. Jessie had done his research well…that and he was good at hacking into government databases and made sure that if any were checked, they would clear. Sometimes it was good to have friends in low places, another thing that his father never understood.
He would straighten back up as he placed a few of the documents into his wallet and tucked it into his suit jacket. The others he creased and folded neatly into the other side. He would reach into his left pocket and grab his keys pulling a few from the ring; like his house and office keys and flung them hard into the grass a distance away. He leaned into the car one more time to open the glove compartment and make sure there would be nothing to identify him left in there and pulled out a pair of scissors to cut up any remnants of his former identity in his wallet. He held firmly onto these shards and tossed the scissors back into the glove compartment and then layed the key on the passenger seat for any passerby to see. He made sure all of the doors would be unlocked and shut the door. Some unscrupulous person would probably soon have a nice shiny new Maybach worth nearly a quarter of a million dollars in their possession.
As he peered around the parking lot he saw two trash bins. One he would walk to and put part of the shredded credit and bank cards in. then walked to the other and tossed the rest in. he would straighten his posture and button his suit jacket. He brushed his sleeves to make sure he was prim and proper and finally smirked his trademark smirk. “Hello there…My name is Canaan…I’m New to town… perhaps you could help me…” he nodded his head as he spoke to no one, for there was not a soul around. He then started to walk down the street, hoping to find something civilized to try his new life out on.
<Abelle>:Well she went ahead and did it again. That Range Rover she had been renting, finally grew on her and stole all her cash. Justification? It was winter for the most part,plain and simple. She was thinking ahead. Belle was satisfied for the moment, a brief moment perhaps but at least there was a smile shadowed across her face. Today was one of those few days, where all she had to do was errands. The businesses were taking care of themselves for a couple days. She finally had a great staff, trustworthy as well. Deagan at the newspaper, with the occasional Adley dropping in. Her brother over at the gun shop doing security, and then her last spin on culture. Studio Broussard, the renovating yoga studio project, which was the reason why she was well on her way to getting ready for the evening.
The newspaper, maybe about a week or so ago, had given them an advertisement to run, in regards to an art auction. It didn't peek her interest then, but now she wondered what they might have to brighten up the yoga studio. None of this really was her thing. Art auctions vs. hunting? Of course it would be the later, but business didn't always call for working from a laptop and taking phone calls. Plus deep down, she was loving the opportunity to break the work cycle tonight. She promised herself over and over. “I will be good tonight...watch my temper...and…” she laughed aloud as she flipped through her garments in her closet. “I promise not to kill too many,” so what she talked to herself, it sure saved someone's ears from the sanity that seemed to slip from her more and more daily.
Belle was also no real pro on fashion as well, so she settled on a pair of black leather looking tights, and a long sweater, that cinched her waist with an artsy looking clothe belt. It fell a little off of her shoulder, but that was how the woman at the store said it should. As long as it didn't give her issues, she wouldn't mind something a little dressy for the night. It was an art auction after all. She wasn't a creature of makeup, she had flawless skin and a very healthy complexion. It was no bragging, she actually held the power of healthy complexion. It was important that while working with humans as often as she did, that she didn't look like some freak show, with pale skin and sunken in eyes.
She felt a rumbling in her stomach, just as she was putting her boots on, it made her roll her eyes. If she ate human food the way she always felt hungry for blood, she would be fatter than a house by now. She was fed for the day, there was just this constant insatiable hunger that lingered in her bones all day. It made her hands shake a little as she laced them up. Just a couple hours….she hummed to herself and couldn’t hurry any faster to get out the front doors.
The auction was being held at the civic center, she wasn't sure how many people would be there, she had never attended one. The building wasn't far from the towers, so she decided to take a little evening stroll. The city was dead, once it got so cold out, everyone was into drinking hot cocoa and hot apple ciders beside the fire. Cozy little families, she stared into the front window of each house she walked by on the side streets. She never had that, and it wasn't something she missed obviously, but it was something she could have longed for if she knew about it back then. Belle looked back down that especially pretty sidestreet, before she opened up into the main roads. Before she knew it she was coming up the front steps of the brand new center they opened maybe just a few months ago. She remembered, she had heard an old school used to be there but they tore it down, no longer needing it. This was place was gorgeous. Most all white exterior, the modern shaped windows; and the inside looked just as sparkly and inviting as the outside. People began to pile in and so did Belle, like always slipping right in with the humans, her soft smile always hiding the fangs that refused to not give her grief.
“Welcome to the first annual civic center art auction event,” a rather squeaky toned female stood up on a stage quite a way ahead. “If everyone could please take and register a number, the auction will begin in promptly half an hour. Thank you and have a wonderful evening!” she squealed now it seemed this time. Belle growled softly under her breath at her disdain. The girl would make a good snack….naughty Belle and her thoughts. Promises were always meant to be broken however.
<Canaan>: Canaan continued to walk for quite some time. His eyes flicked from building to building as he took in this new city. His thoughts lingered back to Chicago and then to this town, wondering all the while if he would ever escape his troubled past. After all, this was no longer the 1950’s and police were like bloodhounds once they got a scent. With a promising politician dead, he doubted the search would stop anytime soon.
As his mind lingered on these thoughts, he could feel his heart start to race and a slight tinge of panic come over him as he flicked his gaze ahead and saw a policeman heading his way. The blood rushed to his face, he could feel it warming up like a teenager’s did when they got caught in the closet by their parents for the first time. He took a deep breath in and as the officer came close to him, Canaan just simply nodded his head as if nothing were suspect. As he passed Canaan exhaled hard as if he had just been punched in the gut by Floyd Mayweather. He didn’t look back, that would be suspicious.
He continued on his way and allowed the sights of this new city take his mind off of it. As he turned a corner he saw a rather large line outside of a building which peaked his curiosity. Everyone seemed to be dressed elegantly as they moved along in the line like they were at an amusement park waiting to get on the newest ride. Canaan would look to the other side of the street and cross to get a better look at the place.
As he came to a spot directly across from the building he would look to the building. It looked new. It looked quite grand. As his eyes flicked to a sign he could feel a small creasing turning upward at the corner of his lips. *First Annual Civic Center Art Auction* By this time he had the biggest smirk smeared across his face. He would straighten his posture once more and straighten his jacket and tie before reaching into his pockets and grabbing a pair of black wool gloves and putting them on his hands. He then looked both ways before crossing the street (safety first!) and joined the line to go into the building.
As he approached the front of the line he got a better look at the inside. His eyes glanced up to the chandeliers and then to the front where he suspected the squeaky voice was coming from “Welcome to the first annual civic center art auction event! If everyone could please take and register a number, the auction will begin in promptly half an hour. Thank you and have a wonderful evening!”
Canaan would go to the registration table. Not that he had a dime to his name, but he looked like he did, and it would look strange if he didn’t have a registration number. He would lean into the table, grabbing the furnished pen and jotting his name down before taking the card with the number 032 on it. He would then tuck the card and the pen inside of his jacket.
He turned around only to hear a gruff voice quip out “Excuse me sir!” ****. What now? He flicked his gaze to his left and the line of people coming in that were blocking his only perceived exit if he needed to make a run for it. “Sir!” Canaan exhaled a strong sigh and as he turned, put on his best smile as he looked at the man calling out to him. “Can I help you?” his somewhat slight English accent politely inquired to the man. The man reach out his hand palm up and gave him the come closer signal which made Canaan slightly freeze. “The pen.” He then pointed to Canaan’s chest. “You took the pen, it’s the only one I have up here for some reason” Canaan jumped as if surprised and immediately withdrew the pen from inside of his jacket. “sorry, bad habit I suppose” the man nodded “I do it all the time, it's no big deal” as Canaan handed over the pen the man smiled politely, though you could tell it was a strained smile, like this was his first gig and he didn’t want to **** it up. “Have a good night.” the man said before hurriedly handing the pen over to someone waiting. Canaan got a dirty look from that wench but he paid no mind to it.
He would then turn and move his mind to what he was there for. The culture. Perhaps this town had some. God he hoped so. He would move from painting to painting until he came to a rather curious one. This one made him stop and stare. He had seen this one before.
<Abelle>:Belle wasn’t a large girl, most would actually categorize her as very petite. This was something she wasn't fond of. For example in a crowd like tonight’s, it seemed like every tall ***** from Harper Rock and beyond had come just to put her to shame. And then they added those skyscraper heels, and the poor girl stood no chance. No. She was only 4’11, didn't look as though she could hurt a fly, delicate and dainty by physical nature. No one knew that within seconds she could probably annihilate half the crowd and scare shitless the other half. Fun facts about being immortal, scaring the hell out of people. Tonight was not the night however. She snorted and gave a woman to her left a dirty eye, whom in glance gave her one right back. See...and this is how it started. This is how it always started. Belle sighed and moved to the other side of the room to avoid all issues.
As she walked through, her eyes spotted a rather out of place looking gentleman. He wasn't odd to look at by far, matter of fact almost looked too good to be true. He held himself proper, she had to assume this was not a first time for him and he also behaved good socially. She couldn't help but wonder if she was calling the kettle black. Belle looked around nonchalantly as the two men broke apart and Mr.Mysterious was off to view a piece.
There were three things for sure, as she walked in a little closer to where he was. The scent of his cologne was nothing like what she had smelled before, meaning either it was very expensive and rare, or they didn't sell it around here; he also was no resident of Harper Rock. That was obvious. Just the way he dressed and carried himself, plus he didn't have that accent, that most canadians claimed they didn't have. She was also a pretty good judgement of character as well, and the closer she got she could feel an odd vibe coming from him.
After a few minutes she made her way to his side, pretending to barely even pay attention to him, the piece they both viewed, had her humming and umming a few times, as she took its art into consideration. This was nothing she wanted in her yoga studio. It was tacky in her opinion.
“You like this sort of work?” she pushed her hair behind her ear as she looked over at him with a forced smile. “I always found it to be a little hard on the eyes,” the woman's french accent was thick, though she was trying hard to dull it down as time went on living her, but the french canadian influence was heavy to someone who already spoke fluent french to begin with. Not everyone understood though.
<Canaan>:Canaan stood there for quite a bit his left arm wrapping around his chest as he placed his right elbow on it to prop up his arm as he pinched his chin and massaged with his right thumb and index finger. His eyes narrowed as he looked the piece over. This was a $250 thousand dollar painting if it was at the right auction. He felt a small tingle to his right and noted someone’s presence there but at the moment he paid them no mind. His eyes were working like a small scanner, going over every detail of the painting.
As the woman spoke, though he didn’t look at her, two gentlemen came up to look at the painting as well. At least that was what Canaan thought. One gentleman, rather pudgy and seemingly very sure of himself took his right hand and pushed up his glasses as the other, rather average built man looked at the painting. The pudgy one started to talk and low and behold claimed it was he who had painted this work. Canaan turned up his nose and finally without moving his arms let his wrist collapse from his chin and merely glanced at the woman.
Very short, petite and wouldn’t you know it, just judging by her face, absolutely gorgeous. Though he thought her attire lacked for the event, he would answer her kindly, deciding not to be the standoffish one this time. After all he was new in town and who knows who this woman might be. “It is not something that I would want in my home certainly. However most consider it to be a masterpiece….” He then elevated his pitch so that the two gentlemen beside him could hear. “If it were real and not so clearly a forgery.” Yeah he did it. Canaan was used to this sort of event and art was something that he could get behind. He was not entirely fond of the events as he was mostly forced to endure them when he was younger by his father, so he learned instead of just tossing the notion away. There were after all many powerful people in most cases at these sorts of events. Canaan was always looking to impress someone.
He glanced lightly over to the two men. The pudgy one was clearly upset. You could see, even through his flab that his jaw was clenched and looking down toward his hands his fist clenched and his knuckles were white. Uh oh, someone hit a nerve. He then answered the second part of her statement even though it was not entirely a question. “The only part that is hard on the eyes is seeing how little effort was put forth into faking it. The real deal is done by a man named Giuseppe Figueroa.” He pointed to a corner and looked at the woman “look how thin the paint is on the canvas. You can barely tell there are any strokes.” He shook his head “also the frame has no patina. Which means that it was either reframed, or this is hot off of the presses.” Canaan flicked his gaze back to the pudgy one, not noticing that the fraudster’s mark had walked away with Canaan’s words. He was pissed.
He walked up to Canaan and snapped his fingers to the side like someone who was calling a dog would. And wouldn’t you know three men came up behind Canaan. He didn’t get a good look at them he was staring down the man who was trying to take someone for quite a large sum.
Canaan couldn’t help himself “Figueroa didn’t wear glasses either…to be that detailed on a piece you have to have true vision…both artistically and physically” he waited for the man to make the next move. Assuredly the men behind Canaan were his goons that he had hired just in case something like this was to happen. First annual art auction. He had to think everyone here was idiots and it would be an easy take. Then Canaan showed up and ruined his day.
Instinctively as he was always the gentleman, Canaan moved in front of the small woman when he turned around to face the three men staring him down from behind. It was probably stupid given the circumstances but Canaan was arrogant. “Evening gentlemen, have you come to admire this fallacy as well?” his trademark smirk washed across his face. He was likely going to end up with the **** beat out of him by the end of the night from the looks of it, why not have a bit of fun while doing it.
<Abelle>: Belle was used to being overlooked in big crowds. There wasn't much to see when most were five foot four and above. She had heard even that height was considered short...which was still a mystery to her. What Belle did have in comparison with most, was the element of surprise. Sure she looked like an innocent, helpless fawn, but she was a beast in a doll's clothing. There was a verse in the bible growing up that said something to the effect of being deceived by a wolf in sheep's clothing. That would be her.
Listening to the gentleman beside her, she was more than happy to hear his review on the painting; and she was pleased to hear his disdain for it as well. She couldn’t help but laugh when he started picking out its faults. She loved someone who always knew what they were talking about. Educated and handsome, this guy would go far, maybe even see him doing something great on the front news of her newspaper...maybe. Maybe he’d turn out to be a wicked political criminal of sorts. She listened to him, but out of the corner of her looked him up and down, trying to judge what type of person he might be.
“We all know, no one likes a fake,” Belle leaned into him, but said it with a loud enough whisper, that these two men coming up, would clearly hear her as well. If all this man was saying was true, then he was right on the mark, but these men didn't seem to be pleased with him at all. Looking over her shoulder she accessed the situation. It wouldn't be much a problem for her, but oddly enough it looked as though it could become problemsome for the man beside her.
Normally she wouldn't give a **** about a human, especially one she had never met before. However most humans she had a tendency to see here and there often around the city. As stressed before...he was new. Harper Rock wasn't a horrible city to live in, why chase out any newcomers? Belle let the scene play out in front of her. There were clearly some hurt egos, starting to rear their ugly heads. “Crazy enough I completely believe you,” she heard some huffs of frustration coming from mister chubbs back there. Her senses were always heightened and if she wasn't as polite as she was, she would have told tubs to get a breath mint. Belle brought her fingers up to pinch her nose lightly, trying not to seem rude.
As the man walked off for a brief moment, she almost let out a maniacal laugh, but was interrupted by the snapping of fingers. Was this guy serious? She was envious that a few snaps of the finger, summoned over three brain dead looking thugs. The gentleman beside her looked as though he could hold his own if it came down to it, but these were pretty big men. Belle would take Queen to the three’s foreheads, she wasn't too much into melee fighting. She liked quick and to the point. But she did promise...damn promises. No killing humans. She mocked herself.
This guy may have been a little **** disturber, but he was right up her alley. Trouble. She lived off trouble and chaos wherever she could get her hands on it. Oh how he taunted them, getting that last word in. It amused her, she even smirked a little up at all the men, who in turn didn't seem to give a **** that a lady was in their midst. Belle narrowed her eyes at the one man, thinking she had seen him before. Her cheeks would have blushed if they could, when her knight and shining armour moved in front of her. Aww he just didn't know what she was capable of, still the sentiment was sweet and noble. True gentleman. She had seen how some men in the streets not giving a **** about the women they were hanging with...not even opening a door for them. Rude. Ignorant.
Belle smiled and slid her body around the handsome man’s body, and put on that force fake smile, she had down to a perfection when dealing with humans, especially dealing with business. The moment she stepped forward, they stopped. She looked up at her savior and nodded softly. “Merci,” she nodded.
“Daniel Coulden? Is that you ?” she smiled wide and realized where she had seen the man before. His eyes widened as though embarrassed. “You came to my newspaper...Harper Rock News? Remember...you gave me the information for the advertisement,” she pushed her way past one man and held out her hand to Daniel. He took her hand and kissed it cordially. It was clear he felt like an idiot, and it seemed because of that everyone else did too. She darted a look over at mister tubbs, and then back at Daniel.
“I’m so sorry Miss Broussard, we had no idea…” he stammered over his words and gave a dirty look up at the true gentlemen behind Belle now. “ You understand the feelings involved when dealing with art and culture.” She laughed and turned to the other men. “I remember you as well...Dr. Hargrave if i'm correct,” she nodded to him as well. Her charm and reputation were always lifesavers when in tight situations. She just hoped her new friend would understand. Still from the corner of her eye she could see fatty whispering something to the other two thugs that still lingered around. She suspected trouble regardless, but at least not here and now.
“We are truly sorry for the misunderstanding Abelle…” the doctor was ready to speak but Belle held up a hand to stop him.
“Miss Broussard, doctor...we barely know each other,” she shrugged and watched the confusion cloud over his face.
“How about i take you to dinner one night….then perhaps I may call you Abelle,” the man puffed his chest, hoping to get some sort of praise from his fellow men around. Belle stared at him for a moment, no emotion on her face, her eyes cold as ice.
“You wouldn't be interested in what I eat. Thank you but no thank you,” she nodded politely to him. “Right now my friend and I will be off...hopefully find a more original piece,” she laughed now and they laughed back just to be courteous.
Once they were out of ear reach, she looked up at him and raised a brow with a smile. “You have a knack for trouble it seems,” she winked and held out her hand. “My name is Abelle Broussard,”
<Canaan>: As Canaan heard the woman give thanks in French he perked a brow before remembering that he was in Canada. He was used to a few languages, none so elegant as French. As the woman spoke a name he looked in the direction that she spoke and watched the man’s face react with a slight tinge of embarrassment and horror all at the same time. Canaan was old fashioned but not so old fashioned that he would not let this woman’s obvious stature within the city stop him from getting beaten to a pulp. There was a time to shut your mouth. Canaan often times had trouble figuring out when that time was, but as the woman spoke to the others he figured that she had given him that time. It was up to him to take the advice.
He took it, even though it itched at his skin that a man would likely take someone for a large sum all due to the fact that they had little to no idea of what they were bidding on. He shook it off so as not to cause a scene more disturbing than what had already occurred. He listened closely to the banter between this woman and the doctor and couldn’t help but to laugh a bit on the inside at the man. Just because you have money and a title, does not mean that everyone is going to fall at your feet. Those that did were weak, and you were usually better off not having them around you in the first place. Generally when you tossed them to the side, they caused problems.
As she guided Canaan away from the obvious threat he sighed a little in relief. One perhaps he could take but three? He was not Jackie Chan. Canaan relied solely on intellect and manipulation most of the time. Yes he was good with a gun but to start a shootout at a charity event was just tacky.
He looked down at the woman leading him off in a different direction and would extend his right arm so that she could wrap hers in his as any gentleman would do. As she spoke he smirked ever so slightly and nodded. “So I am told…I could not stand idly by while a fraud tried to take someone for a quarter of a million dollars love” as she spoke her name he would smile and nod. This was the first time that he would be introducing himself with his new moniker “I am Canaan Requiem, a pleasure to meet you Ms. Broussard.”
He would allow her to move him down the line of paintings before he stopped at another. His eyes lit up like a child on Christmas morning. Lot 148. Spring by Edouard Manet. By the looks of it, this was the original. It was. The articles of authenticity were sitting beside it. At the last auction that it sold at fetched $65 million dollars. Was there that much money in this city? If there was, well Canaan would be excited.
He would look to Abelle and point at the painting “now this is what I came here to see. This is a painting done by Edouard Manet. It sold at Christie’s in New York City for sixty five million dollars” Canaan secretly wanted to know how influential this woman was. Was she one of the rich and powerful in the city, or just another browser trying to fit in with the affluent and hoping to get a rich man to mooch off of?
<Abelle>:As they walked a few more people weren't shy and waved happily at her as well. Her name was getting out there finally, her publicist, before she killed him, was right. A little public appearances would be good for her and the businesses, whichever one she choose to promote. She held her head high, as she set her hand and arm in his gently. This wasnt something she was used to, and it made her a bit uncomfortable. Sort of feeling vulnerable and child like. And there was that sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She lifted her nose to get a nonchalant smell of him, it made her eyes roll. The sweet mixture of blood and cologne. Perfect combination really.
They walked through the crowd, her mind becoming dizzy. Oh someone was getting bitten real soon, she could feel it. Shaking her head she tried to focus and pay attention when he lead them over to a painting that was much more pleasing to the eye than the last. Edouard Manet, must have been a great man to have painted something so lovely. Still when he said the price she laughed. She had gotten rich by not blowing ridiculous amounts of money on things she would get away with having cheaper.Whether it was temps at her businesses or new software for the computers. She choose the cheaper most effective way. Just took a bit of research.
“For sixty five million, I could buy a mansion, expand the newspaper, start three new businesses and upgrade my two other current ones,” she thought about it and looked up at him with a smile and shrug. “Throwing money around isn't something that appeals to me, because I have no one to prove anything to besides myself,” she explained as she truly believed so. “I am only looking for a picture for my upcoming yoga studio, “ she laughed and looked around and then back to him.
“I bet the goodwill, has something antique and exotic and only charges maybe twenty dollars,” she pulled away from his arm and eyed the little appetizers that were being passed about. One thing she couldn't do that was human like was eat food, that always had people questioning her. Most just assumed she watched her weight, and some thought something else was up. Didn't matter to her much, her purpose of coming to these things weren't for people to see how much she ate.
“So are you here to buy?” she looked him up and down, and could swear her mouth watered a little. It was no secret that everyone woman here had been staring at him, and in turn many of the men stared at her for whatever reasons they might have had. “Or are you here to pick up all the lovely ladies with your extensive knowledge of art?” she teased him a little, wanting to see if his smile matched his attitude. She studied people, more than she should. She could see lies in people's, insecurities, pain. Call it empathy, but this just helped her achieve what she wanted all the more.
“Oh and by the way, when you do leave,” she nodded toward the doors up front and then back to him. “Chubbs was really offended I’m afraid...his goons are well paid….I imagine they will cause you issues when you leave,” she rolled her eyes as though she didn't really care what happened to him. It was more of an FYI. “I say go out the back way,” she laughed under her breath. “ They seem so vicious,” she stepped away from him and took him in again. Damn. She really couldn't fault any of the women looking, and yet she was the one standing with him. What a rare opportunity. He could be a very yummy snack. She sighed and adjusted the sweater on her shoulder, that would only fall off again.
“If you're in my area...redwood,” she reached into her pocket and pulled out her three business cards. “Come visit me at any of them...the gun shop might be a good place...this city can get a little wild at times,” she laughed as she completely understated that. She lifted her eyes to meet his, her sultry blue’s mesmerizing and complex at the same time. Her beautiful orbs that once told a story, only showed signs of a dying soul these days.
<Canaan>: Canaan kept his arm in the same position as hers stayed wrapped around his. There was something strange about it. Normally there would be an elevation in warmth when a woman such as she was to take his arm but there was none. He looked down at her arm as she looked around the room and shrugged it off as the sweater she was wearing being well insulated. As she inhaled his scent she would get only the slightest hint of cologne, nothing too expensive, just a bit of Abercrombie Fierce. Canaan detested men who bathed in the stuff and thought they smelled good because of it, when really they smelled like they had just smeared **** over themselves and had to do something to cover it up.
When Canaan heard her speak of buying mansions and businesses he couldn’t help but to let a laugh escape his lips. He wasn’t making fun of her, it was actually the opposite. He agreed for the most part. “Indeed, the strange part to me however is that this does not look like that much of an affluential town if I might be pardoned if I speak from a place of ignorance. I cannot imagine anyone I have seen here being able to afford such a work.” He looked to her as she spoke of not proving anything to others and nodded. His gaze flicked to her eyes, his icy blue hues looking her over for more than a second for the first time. “Those who feel that they need to prove themselves to others generally are insecure and rarely have the actual talent to go through with what they are trying to prove others wrong about in the first place.” He sounded like his father. God he loathed that feeling.
Then she said it. Goodwill. Christ almighty it sent shivers up Canaan’s spine to even hear the name in a place like this where culture and history combined into one. Goodwill. He couldn’t hold back. “You are kidding me? Anyone can paint a picture and call it art. I have seen parents hang up their child’s stick figures on the refrigerator and call it such. True art however is the ability to transform a media into meaning. Not just for the artist and those close to him, but anyone who has the pleasure of looking upon it.” He shook his head “perhaps, perhaps not. Really it depends on what I see” a total and complete lie. But he was good at that. he had no intentions of purchasing anything, mostly because he had no money to speak of, and no home to hang it in. thinking about it, he probably should have kept the keys to the Maybach so that he would have a place to sleep tonight.
As the next sentence spilled out he looked around the room toward the women, some looking at him, staring even, others going on about their business. “I’m afraid most of these women couldn’t handle a man like me love” arrogant yes, but also mostly true. Canaan was not the easiest person to get along with behind closed doors, hell even in public he could be what Abelle had called him. Trouble.
He kept his gaze on her eyes though they wanted to linger elsewhere, and listened as she spoke of the men he had encountered earlier. He smirked “Yes. Out the back. Though I have not yet figured out which way that is as of yet.” As he sweater fell when she adjusted it, for the first time he made his first ungentlemanly gesture and flicked his gaze over her shoulder. The smooth skin shone there made him silently hum to himself. If he were to try and pick anyone up at this grandiose affair, it would be her. She might not be even close to his age but he was ninety percent sure that since she owned a business she was legal.
As she handed him the cards he would glance at them before tucking them in the left front breast pocket on the inside of his jacket. He was a bit caught off guard with as well they were speaking that it was to come to an abrupt end, or so it seemed that way. A pity really. He shook off the gun shop comment as he imagined that Chicago had to be a much worse place than this. He had had good luck there, so he doubted he would have all that much trouble here. Then again people knew him there, and not a single soul gave two fucks who he was here. His gaze moved back to her eyes and a smile swept over his face. “Of course…” he did take note that she owned a newspaper, which was a bit concerning to him. His face was likely plastered all over screens and papers in the US and he secretly wondered if it would eventually spread to this town. He hoped not. He really did not look good in orange.
<Abelle>:She nodded and listened to him, smiling brightly. When she was a newcomer, she supposed she had her doubts about the city as well. It wasn’t until Zodiac changed her life, making it actually have purpose, giving her a chance to feel free and think for herself. If at any point in time she lost her way it was her own doing. Canaan sure looked like a hopeful man, someone like him would probably do well in the world of the dark and ugly. He just had no idea.
“This city is different,” she started and began to usher him toward the back of the building, where she knew there would be a door. Still from the corner of her eye, she could see the men lurking around, with a few more added to their party. She paid no mind, not wanting to bring negative attention. “It doesn't look like much, but there are some very…” she hummed under her breath as she thought about the right way to put it. “Powerful people that live here...quiet but very influential,” she nodded with a smile. “Stick around you will find out soon enough I’m sure,”
Belle was started noticing a little something different about him, she couldn't place it right now but...there was something there. “The exit is right down here,” she walked ahead of him some. “I’ll leave as well..this place isn’t where I want to be right now, never really was,” she mock exhaled and shook her head. “Just another awkward social event….but I’m sure you know how that is,”
Once they reached the backdoor, Belle listened hard. She could hear a few men’s voices out there, nothing sounded intimidating; but because she couldnt see through walls, she had to assume the worst for the two of them leaving.
“Where is your car parked?” she looked back at Canaan and waved him on in a hurry. “Cant have these thugs holding us up all evening,” she whispered and cracked her knuckles gently, then stretched her neck. If she was going to have to fight...she would do it her way. Canaan could either go with her flow or chicken out, which she had a good idea he’d be going with the sooner of of the later.
