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

RE Bright Young Thing Prince Ariamella IMG200x112 Brian Grady You ahh-r staying? Delightful, although I'm sure you and your father will provide all the intelligent conversation while the best I can offer up is amusing tales about criminals and gangsters! Brian's appraising eye took in the Westin's mansion as they led him to the dining room. The inside was just as ostentatious as the outside, overwhelming to the blue collar agent's senses in its calculated display of taste, class and and old money-- lots of old money. As was typical, there was an air of purposeful casualness in the rich decor, like the Westins weren't trying to impress anyone and merely needed a tasteful way to display all the heirlooms and other family treasures they possessed. As if it was perfectly normal to have a china set worth as much as a regular person's house! The rich were a different breed, but fortunately Brian had hobnobbed with the upper class many times in Boston and Chicago and had become skilled at the social nuances they expected. His face betrayed nothing but a polite smile and he was careful to let his eyes never linger too long on any of the more expensive decorations. A lovely home, beautifully decorated and with character, Brian said, finding the right mix of subtlety and understatement that he knew Philip would appreciate. And there, some featured artwork in the living room, the only safe objects Brian had learned that you could compliment explicitly. The rich appreciated culture and knowing artists was a sign you were in their club. Maybe not wealthy or born into it, but at least cultured enough to belong. Fortunately, the conservative Philip had a taste for art that Brian actually liked as well. Is that a Bellows piece? I love his work, so much more visceral than the modernist junk that is all in vogue now. Look at the emotion in that boxer's face! The real treasure, of course, was Philip's beguiling daughter who glided next to Brian like some vision of unattainable class and beauty. The agent was a disciplined man, but it took all of his willpower to not ogle Scarlett as he made conversation with Philip. The glimpses he risked, when her back was turned and Philip distracted, only made the red haired socialite more tantalizing. Her body was stunning, and the sheath of a dress she wore that revealed very womanly curves was on the border of being risque for a woman of society. Her youth let her pull it off, no doubt. That hair seemed to shine, mesmerizing waves of red, black and brown that rippled with ever flick of her neck or turn of her body. And those eyes, Brian couldn't risk lingering on them for fear of getting lost again. Nothing the old judge had in his house could approach Scarlett in value by Brian's estimation. They were settled and Brian found Scarlett across from him and Philip to his right. It was going to be a chore to keep his eyes on her old man all night while she sparkled several feet away. Oh well, at least he'd have something nice to stare at when the conversation got boring! The raid went well Philip, but we missed the big fish. Plenty of booze was confiscated, but the gangsters slipped away with the cash minutes before we got there... I'm not exactly sure how they knew, replied Brian, mind suddenly filling with annoyance and thoughts drifting to his work. But we gave them a good blow, that club was one of Capone's jewels. Brian dragged his mind back to the dinner conversation, no need to dwell too much on what he considered a failure with Scarlett in the room. Now, talking about himself... that was something Brian could do well. He didn't get to where he was by being unafraid to impress others with his accomplishments! The key was doing it in a self-deprecating way. Mastering the humble brag had been a linchpin to Brian's professional success. The story of his life was one of those well rehearsed tales he could launch into at any time, full of humorous anecdotes and interesting successes, and tailored to the audience to do one thing-- impress. Well, there isn't too much to tell... Brian began with a grin, eyes twinkling at Scarlett. My parents are working class Bostonians and I grew up in a hard scrabble neighborhood. When you live with criminals, and see the effects of crime... what it does to good people... you either decide you are against it, or become an accomplice. I chose the former... An Irish boy from a rough neighborhood gets into Boston College through hard work and, of course, some hints that he had to be smart as well. He plays on the football team as a walk-on, goes to Notre Dame for law school, and then has a meteoric rise as a federal agent cracking down on the same gangs that he fought as a kid in the streets. What was not to like when combined with charm, good looks and a sense of humor? Scarlett listening was an interesting wrinkle, and Brian felt an urge to tweak his story just a bit for her benefit with the goal of getting her to really laugh, not just give polite chuckle. Just that first, little success quickly focused him on the game of teasing out what she seemed to enjoy, the stories made her lean forward, those blue eyes wide, and the jokes that made that melodic laugh to come out in full glory. Of course, what girl didn't like hearing about a dashing police hero, saving lives and shooting criminals? As a result, Brian went a little heavy on his own actions. Firing his pistols, kicking down doors, cuffing gangsters and dodging Tommy gun bullets as he saved Boston from both the Mafia and Irish gangs. Philip seemed to enjoy it as well, no doubt finding Brian's blend of legal intelligence and ability to get his hands dirty exciting, especially given the older man's long tenure as a judge that operated only in the court room. The dinner was going faster than Brian expected with everyone in good humor. Complementing the conversation, every course was exquisite. First had come the bisque, then the dressed, beet and vegetable winter salad, and finally the main course of lamb, chicken and sauted potatoes. Even better, the menu thankfully had no pasta. Brian hated Italian these days. The only thing missing, he sighed at the thought, was a little wine. Maybe a cocktail, or even just a beer. Especially in social settings, Brian's craving for a nip of the good stuff could become overwhelming. Later tonight he'd have to dip into some of his reserves of whiskey. And may I ask... about the both of you. How did you get into law enforcement Philip? And Scah-lett, what do you want to do with your life?