new faces

who: ronnie and roy
where: the streets
when: mid day

Ronnie was sitting in a far back corner of Nighthawk's, at a booth with a perfect view of the rest of the diner, sipping a coffee to ward off the remnants of a post-gala encounter she wasn't particularly proud of. But even though she was sitting in probably the far-most corner of the diner, she wasn't blending into the background. Not with the way she crossed her legs provocatively into the aisle, not with how that leggy display was thanks to a too-short-for-this-weather dress that was silky (if imitation) and clingy and a cream color that had always gone superbly with her hair; and not with the oversized coat she wore that did little to cover her up as it more than fell from her shoulders. But, hell, even without all those things -- even if she wore a cheap dull sack the color that blended into the booth behind her -- Ronnie, being Ronnie, would have been hard-pressed not to broadcast alluring in that moment. And, even if despite the stares she was keeping her eyes on the paper before her, she was clearly a woman who knew it.

Regardless of the lack of pride in whatever deeds done the night before, Ronnie still managed to master the art of sensuality even in the little things: the man at the bar counter had his eyes fixated on the one finger she had idly stirring spoon in her coffee, while another young man was having trouble stilling the urge to walk over and brush away the golden tendril she let fall just before her face, its end sticking lightly beside the corner of her mouth. And Ronnie knew it. Even if she hadn't really let her eyes stray from the paper, she knew it. And even though she had no desire or inclination to pursue anything with anybody in this diner, she didn't bother curbing any of it; hell she exacerbated it, even; with little shifts of her legs or an absent shrugging of the shoulders that crept the coat further down.

She actually didn't bother ticking her eyes up until a young man -- or boy, maybe -- stepped in. And even then Ronnie didn't spare him much of a glance and was well on her way to returning to the page when the boy caught her interest by looking disappointed and then immediately stepping out. It was really only this that had caught her interest -- the boy otherwise hadn't held anything impressive about him for her -- but the disappointment and immediate exit had peaked her curiosity. ...and Lord help any male Ronnie harbored a curiosity about.

She rose from the table, fluidly shrugging the coat back over her shoulders and straightening her dress as she did so with the movement. Even if she kept it well reigned behind a smirk, it was with pleasure that she noticed some men shifting legs of their own as she pressed one hand down alongside her thigh, smoothing the wrinkles there. Then, sights set on the doors and a dangerously flirtatious smile in place, she stepped out the exit and 'happened' to encounter Roy, "Well, I've never seen someone eat so quickly in my life," she greeted, turning the power of her amused smile onto him, "or did somebody stand you up?"

It took Roy what might have been embarrassingly long to recognize that the beauty that had come out of the diner after him was speaking to him. So, it was with a bit of a blink that he looked at her, then gave her an apologetic sort of smile, that was pure nerves for the moment. "...excuse me, ma'am?" he asked. Since he wasn't entirely sure what she'd said, considering he'd never in a million years figured a woman like her would say anything to a guy like him. Then he sort of mentally re-wound and tried to pick out what she'd said. Something about eating fast? But he hadn't eaten. Oh! That was what she was getting at. Right. Shoving his hands into his pockets and ducking his head a moment, he looked up at her with his head still down a little bit. "Oh, I...my sister works here. I was coming to see her, but she isn't working." he explained.

It was a perfectly mundane explanation. Nothing so exciting or interesting as the boy having been stood up or the like, and the mundane-ness of it should have been enough to have her shrugging and on her way. But, unfortunately for Roy, Ronnie had her attention focused on him right now -- and the obvious discomfort or nervousness or shyness inherent in his startled blink, the smile, the length time between the answering, the body language... it all pulled and called to a manipulative nature that found something so incredibly fresh to manipulate. A part of her knew it, and she wasn't proud of it, but there was just something in the shyness and almost broken look that it was just to tempting to play with it, to dial up the sensual -- if not obviously so -- in the smile as she brought one hand up and slowly brushed away the tendril she had let stick at the corner of her mouth up until now,

"Well, it's good that a young man like yourself wasn't being stood up," she replied, voice warm and inviting with that undercurrent of interest, purposely substituting 'boy' with 'young man' even if 'boy' was still very much what came to her mind. Ronnie stepped a little bit closer, not nearly so close to be inappropriate or invade the personal space of a boy she had just met, but still closer. "I was worried I would have to talk to some hapless lady for your honor," she joked, letting her voice drop to a conspiratorial tone... and just maybe a low tone tended to give ideas, but Ronnie couldn't help that coincidence now could she?

Roy was an easy mark. At least, in this case he was. For one, he always tended towards being attracted to women older than himself. He didn't know why, it was just how it worked with him. Most of the time women that weren't his own age, however, never gave him the time of day, and really--why would they, exactly? So Roy was the kind of guy who didn't really have girlfriends, and it was chalked up to his own tastes. Well, that and a side of obliviousness towards when anyone his own age was interested. He tended not to notice. Either way, all the little things she was doing to get his attention and hold it worked. And while he colored slightly, and tried not to look like he was looking, his gaze did tick wherever she drew attention, just like it was meant to. He just didn't let his gaze linger long, not wanting to be inappropriate. Even if she did stand closer, and seemed nice. "There's nothing to worry about there, ma'am." he told her, a little smile still flickering on and off of his lips, like he couldn't quite decide if he was going to smile or not. "There's no one around to stand me up, so there'd be no one to be upset with."

It was only with the skill of a dangerous woman that Ronnie didn't grin, or laugh, or give any other tell at how thoroughly amused the manipulator in her was. He was just so easy, just behaving and responding so perfectly the way she wanted him to. Unfortunately, the easiness of this didn't result in boredom -- it only spurred her play on. She caught every gaze and coloring and his other tells, even if she knew how to look like she wasn't looking. At his response her expression morphed into that of surprise -- the kind of surprise that didn't suggest disappointment and, if anything, almost hinted at the opposite -- as she took a step back to get a better look at him, crossing her arms in a way that pulled the oversized coat to hug her frame. "I find that hard to believe," she replied with the epitome of skepticism, touched again with that joking, friendly, a bit flirty, smirk, "that you don't have anyone around to stand you up." She cocked her head slightly to the side, letting some golden tendrils again flow freely fro her face, again momentarily dialing up the smirk into a more alluring smile, "That's almost a crime."

Well that slight coloring of his cheeks shifted to a dull red, and he laughed a touch, smile staying in place this time. "It's the truth, ma'am." he said. Okay. Figure out what she wants. Because there's got to be a reason someone like her stops to give someone like you the time of day, Roy. She's beautiful, and looks high class, and there's no other reason in the world that she'd come over and talk to you unless she wanted something. Just figure out what it is and give it to her. he thought. He was a little distracted, however, with everything else. Like the bit where she was saying things that could be considered flirty, right? Maybe? He didn't have tons of experience with flirting or anything, but it sounded like that. Which was ridiculous, and he was imagining it. He'd...not slept enough lately or something. "I um...can I help you with something?" he asked, tripping over his words a little there.

Her face fell into a mask of perfect self-mortification that, had she been a better person, should have been real. "Oh -- I'm so sorry!" she bumbled, letting out an embarrassed laugh at herself as she pushed the tendrils she had let fall back, "I was just leaving the diner and noticed you walking out and -- well, I guess it's a bit rude of me to keep you on your way." She flashed Roy an apologetic smile of her own, even though Ronnie knew damn well that the boy hadn't meant the question to drive a bothersome woman off. But regardless she gave just enough of a wince to convey her embarrassment without sacrificing her beauty, repeating her apologies, "Again, sorry."

Roy winced, and internally flailed a bit. "Shit, I'm sorry, I mean...excuse my language, I didn't mean to make you feel like you were keeping me. I don't have anywhere to be, I just--" he broke off, not sure what to say to make it better. Damn. "People don't talk to me a whole lot on the random basis." he admitted. "I um...I just...I'm sorry." he stammered.

Oh, this really was just too easy; and inside Ronnie couldn't help laughing at the effortlessness of it all. And while that it wasn't specifically malicious, the inner warmth that accompanied that laughter was far from kind. But her face was; and it was edged with the relief of a woman spared from being an imposition on the boy's time. Yes, a small part of her was aware of the cruelty inherent in playing people, but it was thoroughly overshadowed by the gratification of it all. There was just something all too flattering and refreshing about having a boy -- even if a fairly average one -- stuttering and stammering in her presence. And Ronnie had always bent towards the instant -- if unhealthy -- pleasures of the moment regardless of the consequences.

"Trust me: you have nothing to apologize for," she let the relieved smile drift back toward something friendly and that only toed the line of flirtation, designed to make the boy wonder instead of confirm anything. After a moment, she held out her hand for a shake, "Ronnie, by the way -- I should've introduced myself before harassing people outside diners."

He took her hand to shake it, but made sure to rub his palm on his coat first, though whether it was because it might be sweaty or because he was mildly dirty was unclear. "Roy." he introduced back. "Or Grady, either one works." he added. "Um...pleased to meet you, ma'am." he said. And he was really hoping that his cheeks would return to their normal color here, sometime. Because seriously now. But she was hitting all the right buttons, so that didn't happen.

She let her hand linger there for a moment, and when she pulled it away she let her fingers brush lightly against the boy's palm. But whether that was intentional or not was indiscernible in her expression. "A pleasure to meet you, Roy," she replied, opting for the first name. She gave a little motion of her hand towards the street, "I was just about to wander around, maybe head towards the park or the Apollo -- I haven't decided." She paused a moment before casually adding, as if the boy weren't blushing a pitiful red, "You heading anywhere?"

He felt it, and it was a little like he focused in intensely there, narrowing it all in where she touched him. He thought about where she might be headed, and how he could walk with her, though if she was going to the theater, he didn't have money to go. But still, he could walk her there, he supposed, right? That wouldn't hurt anything? "No where special." he said. "Did you want me to walk you wherever you're headed?" he asked.

"Only if you'd like to; I was just going to wander and it's more fun when there's somebody to wander with," she replied, smiling just before turning around and taking a step forward. And it was only then, when her face was hidden from his view, that the triumph flashed across her face. The statement had rang more than true, even if the sentiment behind it was wholly off the mark. Ronnie really did have nowhere in particular to be, and had every intention -- if not so virtuous ones -- on being amused with the company. There might have been a touch of guilt in her somewhere... but this was far better than the other likely possibility: end up stopping by her Ex's door for a visit that would undoubtedly result in disaster -- they always did -- or fall off the wagon... again. And at the moment Roy was so naively susceptible to having his buttons pushed that Ronnie had to wonder if they had ever been pushed before. It was here that she glanced over her shoulder, scrutinizing the boy behind another friendly smile... if she had to venture a guess? She would've went for a resounding 'no'.

"I don't mind." he said. Well at least he wasn't stammering anymore. That was something. He still had some distant suspicions in his head, wondering what the hell was going on lately. Because wasn't this like the situation Marian had told him about with the guy who's coat she got? Something like it, anyways. So seriously--what was the deal here? What was going on? And on the other hand he kind of felt guilty for thinking it. Especially with how she'd apologized for things, and...yeah. He was overthinking things, probably. He made a gesture to indicate she could pick whatever direction she wanted to go in, since he was meant to be escorting her.

"Wonderful," she murmured, and just started walking, not too concerned with where the destination might be. She was only killing time after all, trying to occupy herself from the bothersome itch that beckoned her toward regret of the stash she had left, exacerbated only by less pleasant recollections of the disastrous fiasco with Jesse and not so great decision making after the Drake. But, hell, she may have had a list of vices and faults and regrets and self-made troubles miles long... but at least Ronnie had her charm, and allure, and the skill -- even at her age and despite a lifetime of bad decisions -- to land a date to the Drake one day and draw some silly boy into escorting her around the next. And that, at least, was something many a woman would kill for, right? ...of course, most other woman had something more than sensuality or a knack for finding dragging company along her road of Bad Ideas. But Ronnie was in a mood to take what she could get and use what she had, it may not have been much but it proved powerful enough,

"So what do you normally do when you're not dropping in and out of diners?" she asked conversationally, naturally falling into a tone that tended to intensify the focus on her. And even if the coat was oversized, and her tendency to put off (or forget) eating made it bigger, she knew how to move in it. Well enough that she didn't even think of how her movements played a game of peek-a-boo with her form against a supposedly shapeless thing. It was just something she did and, even if it wasn't always intentional, she certainly didn't stop when she caught onto it.

Roy shrugged one shoulder, not sure what to say there. "I work at a garage, and the Drake, sometimes." he said. I also run for the DiGiovanni and their associates, but let's not talk about that. "I'm kind of an odd jobs sort, I guess. I tend to fix things." And it was what he considered the thing he was best at, and most proud of. There was a lot in his life he certainly wasn't in the slightest bit proud of, but that? He liked that. "Nothin exciting. What about you?"

Ronnie cocked a wry little half-smile, one that didn't entirely hide the damage underneath. But, well, maybe that was intentional... or not. Maybe. She wasn't exactly analyzing herself at the moment. "Nothing much either -- less than you, certainly..." well, not counting being in and out of some drugged haze or another. But that wasn't exactly info one disclosed well, ever. Not if they didn't have to. And outside of that Ronnie didn't really have any other hobbies or pastimes. She flashed a slightly embarrassed -- almost apologetic -- smile for being so uninteresting. "...does walking around count?"

Because she actually did do that, a lot; when she wasn't too strung out to walk straight. Again, she didn't really have hobbies; and any radio she acquired was usually the first thing to get pawned when she needed cash, so she didn't have anything resembling entertainment back at her room. The healthiest option she had close to it was this, walking around the city, talking to people, just trying to keep her mind busy, amused.

Ronnie's smile transformed into some perplexing cross of hesitance and sensual when she lifted her fingers to brush lightly at the sleeve, by Roy's elbow, avoiding any actual contact, "Do you mind?" Her tone was soft, gesture indicating towards looping her arm through his. It could have been considered forward -- hence the purposeful hesitance in her tone, her actions -- but she wanted to make the most of her time and it was limited. ...For all she knew she'd drop the boy and never see him again by the end of this walk. And, anyways, what proper escort wasn't linked by the arm?

He looked hesitant himself, though he shook his head. "I don't mind." he told her, tone a little off, though it was impossible to tell why it was. "Walking around counts, I suppose. But surely a lady like yourself has other things to do as well. Other interests..." he trailed off, leaving it open for her to respond. Unless she was one of those society ladies that kind of seemed like a pretty slipcover, but that was all. The ones who didn't seem to have a soul, or a personality. Who were mere decoration for someone else. Those types of people had always sort of creeped him out when he came across them, though most of the time when he did they were at the Drake.

Her arm was a light touch through his, not pressing into him like the tramp that most (rightfully, probably) would chalk her up to be. Idly, she combed through her interests and found that, honestly, there weren't anyway. Oh, there were things she did to occupy her spare time, certainly. There were addictions, and compulsions, and time spent in ways she usually hated when spending it and always regretted later. And there were skills, certainly. Things picked up or learned in her teenage years that her damaged mind hadn't lost just yet. But, now that she thought about it, there weren't any interests or hobbies: nothing in the way of a healthy means of occupying that she didn't leave her hating or disgusted with herself. And that? Was truly, deeply disturbing. Because there had to be some serious emptiness aside to just have... nothing for a hobby, or an interest. Even Ronnie knew that. Hell, staggering about in harsh sobriety left her just too vulnerable to that epiphany. And for a moment, it showed in the little twitch of a frown.

But she ignored it -- or, well, she avoided thinking on it. Because she wasn't spending her time strolling with this boy just to jump into realizations of the things truly wrong with her. That was kind of the opposite aim, in fact. So Ronnie cocked her head a bit, thinking, and pulled the closest thing to a hobby she could think of: "I like pictures," she answered, angling her head to flash a proper smile there -- one of a woman not keeping just how fucked up she was at bay, "--collecting them, at least: photos, paintings, drawings." She paused a moment; mouth drawing in a wry, almost sad smile that was more genuine than she cared to admit before admitting, "Although it's not really an art collection. Just stuff, to put on the walls." That was how it had all started: as a means to make her room at the Sunny Shores more personal. With cheap stuff -- pictures, drawing, street paintings, and postcards -- that were worth less than the paper they decorated to a pawn shop.

“Really?” Roy said, picking up on that. “I have a friend who does art.” he said, smiling a touch. “She sketches, draws all the time. She’s really good. Wants to get into painting bigger things, I think, but she’s always at it.” That was something he could talk about. Plus, it took pressure off because he was talking about a third party, not himself, or her even if he was happy to listen to her. But she seemed a little reticent, so he didn’t want to push too hard. But he could talk about Maddy. Or, Maddy’s art, anyways. “What kind of pictures do you like? Would you give anything for them?” he asked. She looked like she had money. And the more business she could get that wasn’t related to the sex industry in any manner, the better.

Normally the answer would have been 'no' -- well, not really. Ronnie's collection consisted largely of stuff swiped or pilfered or coaxed out of some charmed party or the other. There wasn't really anything paid for, save for maybe the rare postcard or picture that had only gone for a penny or so -- and even then, Ronnie figured if it cost so little there wasn't much harm in taking it anyway. But after seeing Jesse, and with the new job that paid very well, Ronnie considered the idea of having something made specifically for her -- even if she did pay for it -- and was finding herself charmed with the notion. "You know -- I think I would. I've never really had something done for me before," she replied, smiling prettily to herself at the idea. And she laughed a little in response to the first part of the question, a movement resulting in a light squeeze on the boy's arm as she did so, "I guess you could say I'd like anything. Or, at least, that there really doesn't seem to be a rhyme or reason to what I like." Which could be said for her tastes in things outside art as well.

Ronnie angled her head at the boy, a playful smile on her mouth that tended to goad others into one as well."What would you suggest, Roy?" Putting a little light stress on the name, as if she were saying it just for the pleasure of the sound, "A cityscape? A landscape? A portrait? Or something modern and incomprehensible?"