Thread: Perfect Stranger (SevenxBathos)

Bianca strode away from the table, elevated on eight hundred dollar ivory Manolo-Blahnik stilettos that she had purchased with Nicholas' credit card, walking on them with the expertise of a supermodel on the catwalk, never once lowering her chin from its upwards direction nor glancing back towards the group she had left in stunned silence - really, it would just ruin the look of the thing. As far as she was concerned, there was little that was more humiliating than shaming a man in front of his friends, which she had just done with incredible efficiency - at the Giza no less, though she still wasn't entirely sure how Nick had even managed to get reservations. No one had before, not that she knew. He wasn't even that important, he just had money, not the fame to go with it. Godwit was a nobody with good savings. Though, no amount of money would buy off the awkwardness that had settled upon the upper-class gathering too polite to say anything, all of them sat quietly in the shadow of Bianca's exit, waiting for something - anything - to happen. Eventually Gerard - a fifty-something insurance agent who had made a very lucrative career out of others' misfortune - managed to find his voice the misfortune was that he used it for the purpose of thinly-veiled pity. Certainly, it was kind of him to extend a hand, but unless he had the ability to change Bianca's mind - or, perhaps, go back in time so he could reserve a table at somewhere cheaper - then there wasn't a lot of sense to it. And it would figure that Michael would be the one to get tired of it first Nicholas could have kissed him for speaking up, if that sort of thing didn't raise all sorts of questions about how quickly he bounced back. Gerard looked mildly put off by Michael's brevity and possibly by being called 'dude' but he begrudgingly nodded his acqueiscence before peering around the rest of the table and beginning to play Nicholas off-stage by leading the rest of the cast away from the table. As it turned out, ten people could clear a room with astounding efficiency when they had the proper motivation, and social anxiety happened to be an excellent catalyst. Of course, Nick rose from the seat and said his extraordinarily polite goodbyes and gave well-wishes with the good cheer of the suicidally optimistic, thanking them for coming and even joking that next time they could probably just wring him out to fill up their wine glasses. And then, once they were all gone, Nick followed Michael's example and slouched back into his seat, It did. I don't actually know what they served us - I wasn't sure if I was supposed to eat it or wait for it to do something interesting. he agreed finally, expression neutral and dark hair still dripping expensive claret a rivulet of it moved down his temple, I think she may have actually kept the glass full all evening for that purpose. I should have known when she asked for wine to begin with, she always did go on about how alcohol had far too many calories. He touched at the droplets of alcohol on his face and rubbed a bit of it thoughtfully between the heavily calloused pads of his fingers, It's really a shame, he added, It was a good year. There was another moment of silence, and then he dug into his pocket and removed his wallet, tossing down an envelope that was likely filled with a disgusting amount of money to pay for the evening. The upside is that everyone here tonight also got entertainment with their abstract expressionist meal, he said brightly, rising from the seat, So, you know, not a complete loss.