Amen Omen ;; Paz and Victor ;; Casual

[PAZ SOTAMAYOR]

With Wally gone, Paz had to find another man to attach herself to to leech a steady income off of. She headed to her usual hunting ground, a charity event at some library about a new wing opening up. Paz didn't really care about the library too much, but she knew that there would be plenty of well-to-do gentlemen milling about for her to pick from. Or so she thought.

The actual event ran dry, but as she was leaving, she saw a man who would be a good target. A little scruffy, but obviously wealthy given the fact that the watch on his wrist cost more than most people's monthly paycheck. Paz ducked around a corner just long enough to whip out her compact with flourish, checking her hair and make up. The eyeliner was a bit smudged and her hair was a little messy, but that was alright. Stuffing the compact away again, Paz straightened her dress out and walked around the corner, trying to time it just right that she'd run into the man.

Her timing was slightly off so instead she just "twisted" her ankle and fell in front of him, just enough to block his path. "Ah!" Paz held her ankle and turned her eyes downward, looking at the floor rather than up at the man. Wilting, exotic flower worked every time.

[VICTOR FRANKENSTEIN]

"Just go, Victor. Your dad wants you to."

Victor did not want to be at the opening of a new wing of the library. He really liked libraries, liked to spend time in them, and they were blissfully quiet. But he did not care one iota about an opening ceremony. What was the point? He was going to see the new wing on his own time anyways, eventually, why make a big event out of it?

He would never understand parties and events; he detested social gatherings.

Thankfully he was relatively clear headed today, and just to make James happy, he'd gotten dressed properly, suit and tie, hair combed and everything. It was awfully uncomfortable, he thought. He was relieved when the ceremony was coming to a close; the quiet after party that would follow was none of his business and he was planning on leaving when suddenly, a young woman fell in his path.

Victor had no protocol for women on the ground. Or anyone on the ground. So instead, he froze, and analysed:
Late twenties or early thirties.
Grew up in Mexico.
Lots of money, though the type of spend it all too soon.
She looked like an idiot, holding her ankle for no reason.
"Excuse me..." he mumbled nervously, looking anywhere but into her eyes, "I, um, need to get through."

[/font][/size]

[PAZ SOTAMAYOR]

Paz was a bit miffed that her gag didn't work quite as well as planned but she wasn't anything but adaptable. "Senior, please...I've twisted my ankle." Paz made sure her accent was extra thick while speaking, playing up the foreigner aspect of herself. "These damned shoes...look good but what cost?" Paz held out a hand to the man.

"Please, senior, help me up?"

Paz was careful not to overdo the doe eyes or her grimace. Just enough to show the pain and discomfort of a twisted ankle and the trouble of standing up while wearing too-high heels. She shifted, pulling her legs together to stay modest in her virginal lace, and grimaced for real. Maybe she had twisted her ankle falling over.

That was bullshit.

Paz looked down at her ankle and could see the delicate curve swelling slightly. She had. Rolling her eyes at her poor execution of the gag fall, Paz looked back up at the man. She hoped that he'd knock out of whatever deer-in-the-headlights trance he was in and would help her up.

White lace was not made for contact with the ground.

[VICTOR FRANKENSTEIN]

"Senior, please..." the girl whimpered. Maybe she was on the ground for a reason. "I've twisted my ankle = these damned shoes...look good but what cost?" Victor didn't really want to take the outstretched hand, but the girl looked desperate. "Please, senior, help me up?"

She suddenly looked annoyed. Victor was also a bit annoyed. Why would someone consciously wear such hazardous apparel? It was ridiculous. But she really did look slightly injured, if maybe not twisted - bruised? He cautiously put his hand out to her and pulled her up, looking away from the mess of a woman and grimacing at the contact.

"Honestly, those are absurd. Walking hazard, don't wear them anymore." His own accent was now showing heavily as he mumbled, mostly to himself. Out of nervousness instead, though - he wasn't quite sure why the girl in front of him was forcing her own so much. She'd been here too long to speak that thickly.

[/font][/size]

[PAZ SOTAMAYOR]

"Honestly, those are absurd. Walking hazard, don't wear them anymore."

"It's part of being a woman, papi." Paz teetered on her heels and carefully climbed out of them and picked them up. "We want to look great, so we torture ourselves." Paz shook her head and looked at the man, noticing his accent had gotten thicker.

He seemed a bit out of sorts and Paz's first impression was that he had Aspergers or something like that. She told herself not to jump to conclusions and that it wasn't P.C. to assume mental retardation in someone who was just a little...different.

Different and very, very awkward.

"Thank you for helping me, senior. You're my hero." The sarcasm was quite obvious in the last phrase and Paz looked down at herself to start sorting out her dress. It wasn't in too bad of shape, really, just a little dusty over the bum. At least her dress was okay, even if this guy wasn't cooperating at all. Any other man his age would have fallen over his feet with eagerness to help her out, but this guy wasn't buying it. Maybe he was gay and it was a lost cause.

[VICTOR FRANKENSTEIN]

"It's part of being a woman, papi. We want to look great, so we torture ourselves." The woman looked bothered by her own statement - then why say it, Victor thought. And, why carry the action out? Sure, looking great felt good, but Victor would rather be comfortable than pretty. This was one of the many reasons why he could never understand most women.

The woman let him awkwardly help her up; he touched her as little as possible. "Thank you for helping me, senior. You're my hero."

Victor frowned. She was doing that thing that people did sometimes - saying things when they didn't look it, which meant maybe they didn't mean it. He hated this, because it confused him. James was good - James lay everything out so it made sense. But this girl was bothering him a lot. "I'm sure I'm not," he said, his tone neither humble nor accusatory, but unusually, flat out honest. "But you're welcome. Your, um, your ankle... should I go get someone?" This was how he dealt with things - get someone else to do it, as it was almost certain that he himself would screw it up.

[PAZ SOTAMAYOR]

"I'm sure I'm not,"

Paz knew she had found a smart one. He didn't buy into it all and she wasn't particularly bothered. It just meant that she'd probably have to readjust her focus elsewhere to make a pretty penny or two. This man would just have to be for her own amusement. And necessity given the state of her ankle.

"But you're welcome. Your, um, your ankle... should I go get someone?"

"Get someone if you care. I'm going to guess and say you don't. I don't care either. Let's be real, papi, you don't fit the means to my end." Paz dusted the backs of her legs off, dropping her little facade just as easily as she had adopted it. Paz teetered a bit with her bad ankle and crossed her arms. "You're not what I need, and I get the distinct feeling that I'm not what you want. So if you want to help, help. If you don't, don't. Don't waste time you aren't happy wasting, that's my motto." Paz wasn't bothering with even trying to be polite and good any more, she didn't have time for that. Wilting flower was gone, and ruthless procurer of materials was in her place. Paz didn't feel the need to keep up the routine any longer than she had to and she recognized a lost cause when she saw one.

"Thanks for your help either way."

[VICTOR FRANKENSTEIN]

The woman's voice suddenly changed, her facial expression loosing its forced lost expression, and Victor felt himself relax a little as well. Her new tone was biting, but he liked it better. "Get someone if you care. I'm going to guess and say you don't. I don't care either. Let's be real, papi, you don't fit the means to my end." Victor didn't really know what that meant, but he shrugged, sure whatever she meant was probably true. She didn't look like she was lying anymore.

The woman stood, dusting her legs herself. She looked annoyed about her bruised ankle, now, but Victor was sure she could walk it off, assuming she took off the stupid shoes. She didn't look happy about the entirety of him, like the look his nanny used to give him when he came back home dirty. "You're not what I need, and I get the distinct feeling that I'm not what you want." Victor had to smile at that. He liked this directness. It made sense. "So if you want to help, help. If you don't, don't. Don't waste time you aren't happy wasting, that's my motto - Thanks for your help either way."

"You're making sense now,"

[/color] Victor said matter-of-factly, "I know what you're saying. Um, what are... ice? Maybe there is ice and a bandages in the, the other room," Victor offered. He didn't really wait for her answer, wandering away with a little grin on his face. He wished she had talked like she was now from the start. He hated plays, mostly.

He wandered back into the main room and asked the first person he saw for the items he was looking for. She didn't particularly know why, but she found the bandage in a cupboard above a book trolley for him and there was ice in a bowl next to the punch they were serving. Victor carried a handful of ice in a plastic cup and made his way back to the woman.

"Here," he said, holding them out to her, "These are for you, will you want them?"[/b][/font][/blockquote]