This was not the sort of situation Tayler got herself into. This was the sort of thing only Gavin would find himself in, or that only Gavin could drag her into. And yet, despite all logic, here she is, standing in a noisy bar full of intoxicated celebrants with her right pointer finger sharing an unusually expensive-looking finger trap with a complete stranger.
At least he's a good-looking stranger...
She gives it a tug, trying to pull back on the dragon face resting over her knuckle, but it doesn't seem to work like every other stupid finger trap in the world.
She looks up at him, nervousness in her weak smile. "There must be some trick to it, right?"
"Do you know why they call it a 'Chinese' finger trap? Rumor has it--" Because the futility of pulling or pushing has already been demonstrated, his free hand is all over the bronze body of the the toy, looking for a catch and not resuming his train of thought until every nook and cranny has been poked, prodded, squeezed, and caressed "--It’s fine. It’s fine, really, I’ve got this. Anyway, back in ye olde Imperial days, the emperor used them on his mandarins before they could sit on the council. Final exam."
Though this has ruffled his feathers a bit, things could be worse. Finger-cuffed (and, let’s be honest - drunk to a degree that most ordinary human beings wouldn’t be bothered where they stuck their finger) to a stranger he may be, but she’s no Nancy Grace. She is, in fact, almost offensively cute.
His eyes meet hers for half a second when he finally gives the puzzle a rest, then he swings his chin at the passing bartender.
"One more of these." Tony reaches around his awkwardly immobilized arm to give his empty glass a nudge. Then another glance at the girl. "What are you drinking?"
Despite being a copper in a bar, Tayler isn't drunk. She never allows herself to get past the warm tingly pleasant feeling of slight intoxication if she isn't absolutely sure of who is taking her home - or who she's taking home - because a woman her size impaired on the streets is much too easy a target and she's seen far too many bruises and bodies to ever disbelieve it. Besides, even out of uniform she has a duty to be prepared to serve and protect, as the American's say.
And she does have a bit of a soft spot for Americans. Far from being irritated with the extended pause he takes in speaking as he examines the thing trapping their fingers, she finds his intensity and focus even while drunk to be rather charming. His slightly flustered assurances are quite cute in fact and it eases the nervousness out of her and lets her natural good humor back in with full force. Though he isn't especially tall there is something about him that is a little imposing, and she gets the feeling he is the sort of man who might be used to having things his own way, but as a keen observer of humanity these last few moments have assured her at least that he doesn't intend to pose any threat to her. "If the emperor's traps were anything like this one, I'd be surprised if he had any council seats filled at all."
The half a second where his eyes meet hers capture her attention even as he moves on to signal to the bartender. It's the difference between young men and older, more experienced ones, a depth and nuance to the expression of the eyes. She's put more thought into the the subject than she would ever readily admit, except in a joking fashion or in reference to Harrison Ford, but the look of his make her interested to know him better.
Her elbow rests on the bar and when he asks, her fingers run over the shape of the almost empty bottle in front of her. Pulling a slightly sheepish face, she replies, "Corona." A constable's salary doesn't exactly provide for fine Cabernet.
"That...is a genuine a tragedy. Let’s not repeat it." Tony pulls his lips snug to his teeth and whistles. "Hey, nevermind, crack open that Cristal for us, would you?" Even with the Macallan already poised to pour, the bartender does not miss a single beat in redirecting his reach from one of those miserable, piss-colored bottles beneath the bar toward the gold-wrapped one in its place of neglected honor in the windowed cooler.
"I won't tell Jay-Z if you don't," he says -- out the side of his mouth without looking directly at her, but his volume isn’t exactly conspiratorial. On his long list of talents and shorter list of super powers, subtlety does not make a single appearance.
The crystal clinks on the bartop when the flutes come out, and on that cue Tony does does turn back to his new friend. He knows how this looks: champagne, little redhead, a hint of bondage. But it is one hundred percent innocent.
She’s just been a really, really good sport about the finger trap from hell. She'll be a better sport after another drink or two.
"I don't think you gave me your name. Or you did, and I just didn't-- Anyway, hit me again.
The reference goes over her head, but she nods anyway. Yanks often talk a lot of nonsense in her experience, but it's kind of part of their charm. And normally she would be more than a little hesitant to allow someone to buy her such an expensive drink, but he hasn't hit on her or tried to touch her or even leered so she reckons he's safe. Even still, she's a bit apprehensive of the fancy glasses and gold bottle if only because if the next round is meant to be her shout she'll be washing dishes in back for a week in order to pay for it. But hopefully his generosity holds out because she is more than a little curious to have a taste of a drink with that kind of price tag, especially after a bottle of Corona.
She cocks her head and looks at him with a little crooked smile. If he's drunk enough to believe he might have already forgotten her name, she could probably really have him on. But perhaps the finger trap is enough of a gag on both of them and she decides to go easy. Besides, he's a bit older than her usual marks. Wide eyed younger boys are so much more easily lead astray. "I haven't given you my name yet. It's Tayler." She turns her eyes off him for a minute as she takes her first sip, and it's certainly a far sight better than anything they might shell out for even at the officers' ball. "And you know, despite our obvious connection," with a amused lilt in her voice as she nods towards the devil contraption holding onto their fingers, "you haven't told me yours either."
Introductions are weird when just about everybody in the free world knows your name and half the folks in the unfree one've had a relative blown up by a rocket with your name on it. But they do still come up sometimes, and he can’t say he doesn’t enjoy the occasional novelty that comes with anonymity. If that's what this is. Chances are excellent she knows exactly who she's cuffed to.
Or he could just be a guy in a bar.
"Well, Ms. Tayler," he answers, raising his own glass to the lady before putting it to his lips, "I will take your word for it. Consider yourself introduced. Officially." In the interest of giving her a polite head start, he limits himself to a sip, eyes still on her while he wiggles his trapped finger. "I'm Tony. I'd shake your hand, but I feel like this might have us covered."
And she in turn is trying to deserve his chivalry by sipping slowly rather than knocking back her drink like she might if she were sitting at a table with Dave and Gavin. Much as she loves her work mates, it is very nice to not feel as if she might be called upon at any moment to prove she can run and fight and drink like the guys. Working your way through the ranks of a boys' club has its rewards, but that doesn't mean it isn't exhausting as well.
She wiggles her finger inside the trap as well like a tiny version of a hand shake and also in part to reassure herself she still can. There really isn't anything to worry about as long as they still have circulation to their fingers. Smiling like a little imp, she can't help but let the humor of the situation get to her. "Pleased to meet you, Tony. And since we're now properly acquainted, maybe you won't mind if I ask if you often find yourself in situations like this?" She's been handcuffed to some interesting people, but never stuck in a finger trap with one.
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pixiecopper) wrote2015-06-24 08:47 pm
no subject
At least he's a good-looking stranger...
She gives it a tug, trying to pull back on the dragon face resting over her knuckle, but it doesn't seem to work like every other stupid finger trap in the world.
She looks up at him, nervousness in her weak smile. "There must be some trick to it, right?"
no subject
Though this has ruffled his feathers a bit, things could be worse. Finger-cuffed (and, let’s be honest - drunk to a degree that most ordinary human beings wouldn’t be bothered where they stuck their finger) to a stranger he may be, but she’s no Nancy Grace. She is, in fact, almost offensively cute.
His eyes meet hers for half a second when he finally gives the puzzle a rest, then he swings his chin at the passing bartender.
"One more of these." Tony reaches around his awkwardly immobilized arm to give his empty glass a nudge. Then another glance at the girl. "What are you drinking?"
no subject
And she does have a bit of a soft spot for Americans. Far from being irritated with the extended pause he takes in speaking as he examines the thing trapping their fingers, she finds his intensity and focus even while drunk to be rather charming. His slightly flustered assurances are quite cute in fact and it eases the nervousness out of her and lets her natural good humor back in with full force. Though he isn't especially tall there is something about him that is a little imposing, and she gets the feeling he is the sort of man who might be used to having things his own way, but as a keen observer of humanity these last few moments have assured her at least that he doesn't intend to pose any threat to her. "If the emperor's traps were anything like this one, I'd be surprised if he had any council seats filled at all."
The half a second where his eyes meet hers capture her attention even as he moves on to signal to the bartender. It's the difference between young men and older, more experienced ones, a depth and nuance to the expression of the eyes. She's put more thought into the the subject than she would ever readily admit, except in a joking fashion or in reference to Harrison Ford, but the look of his make her interested to know him better.
Her elbow rests on the bar and when he asks, her fingers run over the shape of the almost empty bottle in front of her. Pulling a slightly sheepish face, she replies, "Corona." A constable's salary doesn't exactly provide for fine Cabernet.
no subject
"I won't tell Jay-Z if you don't," he says -- out the side of his mouth without looking directly at her, but his volume isn’t exactly conspiratorial. On his long list of talents and shorter list of super powers, subtlety does not make a single appearance.
The crystal clinks on the bartop when the flutes come out, and on that cue Tony does does turn back to his new friend. He knows how this looks: champagne, little redhead, a hint of bondage. But it is one hundred percent innocent.
She’s just been a really, really good sport about the finger trap from hell. She'll be a better sport after another drink or two.
"I don't think you gave me your name. Or you did, and I just didn't-- Anyway, hit me again.
no subject
She cocks her head and looks at him with a little crooked smile. If he's drunk enough to believe he might have already forgotten her name, she could probably really have him on. But perhaps the finger trap is enough of a gag on both of them and she decides to go easy. Besides, he's a bit older than her usual marks. Wide eyed younger boys are so much more easily lead astray. "I haven't given you my name yet. It's Tayler." She turns her eyes off him for a minute as she takes her first sip, and it's certainly a far sight better than anything they might shell out for even at the officers' ball. "And you know, despite our obvious connection," with a amused lilt in her voice as she nods towards the devil contraption holding onto their fingers, "you haven't told me yours either."
no subject
Or he could just be a guy in a bar.
"Well, Ms. Tayler," he answers, raising his own glass to the lady before putting it to his lips, "I will take your word for it. Consider yourself introduced. Officially." In the interest of giving her a polite head start, he limits himself to a sip, eyes still on her while he wiggles his trapped finger. "I'm Tony. I'd shake your hand, but I feel like this might have us covered."
no subject
She wiggles her finger inside the trap as well like a tiny version of a hand shake and also in part to reassure herself she still can. There really isn't anything to worry about as long as they still have circulation to their fingers. Smiling like a little imp, she can't help but let the humor of the situation get to her. "Pleased to meet you, Tony. And since we're now properly acquainted, maybe you won't mind if I ask if you often find yourself in situations like this?" She's been handcuffed to some interesting people, but never stuck in a finger trap with one.