Thread: Bright Young Thing ::: {Prince of Smut & Ariamella}

RE Bright Young Thing Prince Ariamella Whatever color was left on Scarlett's face had drained away at Lucca's story of his Uncle Sal, and she couldn't help but wonder what kind of man he really was... she felt trapped by his mere presence, the force of it reminding her of the quiet before a storm calm and commanding, preceding something that was exciting as it was dangerous. A titter escaped her lips as a rush of nervousness shook its way down her spine, causing her form to sit up straight, becoming visibly rigid at his last question. It gave her the impression that he had been watching her for some time, and maybe he had, but the message behind the question was clear I know who you are, and I have been keeping track of you. It's interesting, she started, reverting back to her normal state, how a butterfly comes to drink the sweet nectar of flower but finds itself entangled in a spider's web instead. As always, her words got philosophical in nature when dealing with an uncomfortable situation. It was a defense mechanism really, more to ensure that nothing foul spilled out of that pretty mouth of hers. Although she belonged to Chicago high society, her time slumming in speakeasies had taught her more valuable things in life like how to spot potentially dangerous situations and knowing when to shut up. And right this moment, those two skills were now proving their worth. How did she know the police were going to raid his clubs? It was a question she couldn't give a straight answer to, and even if she did, who was to say he'd actually believe her? Only Penelope did, but even she was skeptical for the first few weeks until Scarlett had taken her gambling and given her all the right moves to win. There was no formula for luck, it wasn't definite, and like time it was a fluid thing that changed with the decisions of the people around her. She had a feeling that Lucca wouldn't settle for anything but the truth, but she wouldn't be telling him... not really. Showing him was the simplest way without having to explicitly state the innate ability she had since birth, and while it was still a cop out in answering the question, it would hopefully satisfy his curiosity with her. Then she would be in the clear, free to leave, and she would probably never come back. Spotting two dice resting in a small decorative porcelain tray on the table in front of her, she grasped both and held them up for Lucca to see. I'm truly sorry about your Uncle Sal. It was true no one should have to die because of someone else's greed, but sadly it happened all too often in the world. She looked down, the next words becoming more of a rambling to herself. How lucky for you, though. If that hadn't happened, you would be far away in Sicily, this place wouldn't exist, and you would be the successor to a long line of olive farmers. But here you are, the owner of multiple successful underground clubs, sitting in front me as we have a conversation about the nature of luck. Her head gently rolled up, and she directed her gaze to meet his lazy smile, her eyes swimming with knowledge that she fought to keep private. Although it's peculiar how you mentioned people making their own luck, as if it was a substance to bend at will. Wouldn't that be fantastic? To constantly know exactly what the odds are, every single time? She toyed with the dice, her left cheek exposing a dimple as the red lips below turned up in a smile to match the man who sat across her. She felt the smooth faces of the small cube and let her fingers glide gently over the even smaller black dips that made up the numerical symbols on each side, then she finally opened her mouth again to speak. You're a smart man. Each side of one die has a one-in-six chance of landing right side up. There's no way to tell which side will be facing up once it's rolled... or is there? The girl paused for a couple of seconds, a thoughtful look resting upon her features. To know that once I throw this little thing, there's a chance of it landing on two or six, but also knowing that it will most likely land on one... The redhead fell silent, juggling the one of the cubes in her hand before tossing it lightly onto the table. The thoughtfulness on her face turned to satisfaction as the die made its final movement, stopping with one black dot facing upwards. Each outcome will be different, but the trick is to understand the odds right before the event happens and pray that the path you chose was right. This second one? She held up the last die. I can only hope that it lands on four. Again she tumbled the die, remaining silent as it came to a stop beside its brother, this time with four dots displayed on its upper surface. Scarlett leaned back and crossed her legs, temporarily forgetting about the disturbance she felt earlier, and a familiar sparkle of smug arrogance reached her eyes. Does that answer your question?