F01-OP Blackbook, Grand Opening

[Scar 0]

Jack was silent for a moment.

The music was suggestive and sensual and a kind of cardiac rhythm. The speed of the music seemed to increase, it looked like it was very much affected by the small Alinta that was already going. The crimson hair of the lady with the amazing smile was reflecting the chandelier light similar to a small flame. Jack stood there, momentarily robbed of words, a faint grin ghosting across his lips. She had taken the strawberry, and his composure, in one motion.

"You.." Jack was opening his mouth to say something but eventually he just broke out in laughter. Amusement and disbelief were the two feelings that were mainly reflected in his voice. "Woman, you are capable of bringing the the world to its knees."

He was moving closer to her, but with the utmost politeness, he was not invading her personal space. The intimacy and precious silver thread which can be called a silent magnetism was there between them. The sound of people's laughter and drinking was blending with the music as the band changed their tune, a slow waltz with dark, velvety tones. The kind of melody that demanded proximity.

He leaned in just enough that his voice brushed past her ear, his words wrapped in the rhythm of the music. "You claim to be the challenge, yet you look like someone who just conquered a battlefield."

He gave a quiet laugh, which was in the lower register and amongst his huskiest tone, before he edged around her a little in order to look at her directly. "Though I have to admit.." His eyes flicked to her lips, then to her glass. "You play your part dangerously well. I'm starting to think the 'saint' routine was just to lure in unsuspecting sinners."

Jack was lightly grazing the top of a glass with his fingers that was standing on the table near him, and at the same time, he kept his eyes locked with hers. "Tell me, Alinta," he continued softly, "Was that a confession.. or just a warning?"

The orchestra played louder, and it was without hesitation that he put out his arm to her, a faint, teasing smirk on his lips. "Come on. You said you were the challenge, didn't you? Then prove it."

He didn't phrase it like an offer, it was a dare. A playful confrontation wrapped in chivalry. "Just one dance," he added, his voice smooth, confident, yet edged with that same mischievous undertone that had colored their banter since the start. "If, by any chance, you would rather take your chances with another round of strawberries."

The change was evident in his face, and the smile was back, faint, as if sensing something, and completely fitting the character. "I'll warn you, though. I don't dance well. But I do play a mean game of pretend."

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WC: 477