. heavy handed

[india santos]

July 18th, 2010. St. Barts. The last few months of their relationship had been, in a way, tumultuous. It had been a never-ending cycle of ups and downs, highs and lows. They had fought tooth and nail against one another, and exchanged hateful, despiteful words to each other. There hadn't been a string of good days up until now, considering that for months prior, each night they would spend together would more than likely end in a fight, end in India crying on the floor, wanting nothing more than to break up with Henry once and for all. But, as per usual, there was always something about Henry that made her come back. There was something about this boy that made this girl so insanely in love with him that she couldn't find it in her heart to ever end things for good with him, no matter how bad things had become. Thankfully, their string of good days turned into weeks, which turned into months...which is how they've landed here: in beautiful St. Barts. As a graduation gift to India, Henry had promised them a trip to an exotic location for just the two of them. This was the first time she had ever been on a vacation with Henry, and not only that, this was the first vacation she had ever been on by herself without parental supervision. She had been nervous the entire plane ride from the states, but with Henry next to her, she couldn't help but feel excited, and enthralled to be in such a beautiful place, with such a beautiful person. India had promised her mother to be good, be safe and stay in contact for the majority of the trip...however, she knew that once they had actually arrived in the city, and gotten their feet into the sand that things wouldn't go exactly as planned. Bags hit the hardwood floor of their suite, laughter emits from the freshly faced young girl. Bodies move closer to one another, intimate whispers being exchanged from ear-to-ear. Strong hands hold a firm grip of the lithe-framed girl, hands tangle through short, dark hair. Red lips begin leaving their mark on the young man's chin, and neck. As Henry begins to speak up, India lets a kiss form on his lips. She presses her lips tighter against his, letting the kiss go on for a while longer before breaking it and whispering a slight "shhh." Breaking away from the boy, India presses a firm hand against the boys tight body and pushes him on the bed. The tiny girl finds her footing before climbing on top of the man and situating herself on his lap. She leans down and resumes the kiss, smiling into him as hands begin exploring their way around his body. India pauses for a second to reach around her body to remove her white tank top. As soon as it's gone, she leans back down to resume the kiss. If this wasn't the perfect way to begin their vacation, she didn't know what was. notes // i stole this from ciara...sorry tagged // henry albright music // mixtape

[Deleted]

While the brunette giggled and crooned about their suite, Henry tugged a cigarette from it's tightly nestled home, perching it between his lips, poised and ready to be lit as soon as he could untangle himself from her petite frame. She has other, more obvious intentions, though. Intentions that he would be a fool to reject, but there was that desperate nicotine fix that drew his eyes desperately to the double doors at the other end of the room. A balcony. Fresh air. The perfect atmosphere for him to sit back and smoke while watching the locals and tourists mingle below.            "HOLD YOUR HORSES, LEMME GET A SMOKE FIRST."    He's silenced. Annoying. Does she think he's a child? Both hands find their way to her hips, gripping them hard enough that he could feel the curve of bone beneath the flimsy excuse for material covering them. He wasn't going to reject a girl who wanted him. His cigarette is forgotten about, for now, and crushed as she manages to force them to the bed. For a few moments, he's just a guy, being straddled by an attractive girl, taking charge, kissing him with a kind of passion he wasn't entirely opposed to. It didn't matter who they were or where they were or the fact that their luggage was tossed haphazardly to the side of the door.     The hand previously occupied by a cancer stick is on the move, traveling the length of her slim body, to the curve of her shoulder and the dips of her collar bone, until his hand is gentle cupped around the underside of her jaw, thumb gentle against her throbbing pulse. She was like a delicate doll, so tiny, so fragile, so trusting. He could crush her windpipe in a second if he wanted to. Not that he did. But these were the fleeting thoughts that passed through his mind in the moments her lips weren't enough to distract him. He convinces himself it's because he sat through a long flight without his fix.           "SLOW DOWN, DIA, I NEED A SMOKE BEFORE WE DO SHIT. AND YOU COULD PROBABLY DO WITH A SHOWER."

[india santos]

Halfway through, the action is put to a hold. The man sitting below her pauses her -- saying they should put a pause on what was happening. He needed a smoke, and apparently according to him, she needed a shower. Which was probably partly true; what man wanted a woman when she smelled like an airplane? Admittedly, she hadn't had a shower in over 48 hours and probably needed to shave various parts of her body. She was surprised Henry even wanted to touch her with her smelling a little weird -- though, he had his ticks and this might be a tick of his. "FINE, ARE YOU JOINING ME OR DO I HAVE TO FLY SOLO ON THIS ONE?"   India releases the man's hands off her -- and in one fell swoop, she leans down to press one more kiss to his lips before bouncing off the young man. She finds her footing and finally touches down on the hardwood floors. Sifting through the bags on the floor, she collects all of her belongings she'd need for the shower. Such as: shampoo, conditioner, body wash, face wash, razors and shaving cream. She follows the path into the bathroom and turns on the lights, and finally reaches the bathroom to set all of her belongings inside the shower.   Making her way back to the bedroom where Henry was, she begins to slowly remove her clothing -- sending this as a hint to Henry that he could join her in the shower, if he so chose. She lets a trail follow her before she finally gets to the last article of clothing; her tiny pair of black underwear, a thong, to be exact. As she finally gets the pair off her body, she slings them to floor. Looking back behind her, India left a carefully placed trail of clothing following her all the way to the shower. Before finally getting into the shower, she grabs a towel to hang next to the door, and lets her long hair fall to her back. As she steps into the shower, she turns the water to warm and lets her body begin to be drenched in the warm water. "YOU'RE WELCOME TO JOIN ME, BABE...I KNOW YOU WANT TO..." _____________________________________ NOTES: it's shitttttty </3

[Deleted]

Part of him definitely wanted to, but the other part of it, the upstairs brain, was distracted, too busy thinking of his nicotine fix, the only thing that he's thought about for the last sixteen hours since he had to big their commute. He hated planes. It was always easier when he went out on his dad's boats or made short stop-overs where ever they wanted. It couldn't be that way, not when he was with his girlfriend and they had a set vacation in mind; it couldn't be that way when he wasn't able to bounce around and cater to his addiction -- or addictions, anyway.     He finds the discarded cigarette, smashed and broken, tobacco spilling out on the expensive comforter, and tosses it in the garbage can. What a waste. Mumbling, he kicks her clothes aside and lights his cigarette, before he can even manage to undo the latch on the door. Who cares that there's a sign that says no smoking within the suites? Who cares that he knew India hated it? Who cares what anyone thought or said about anything he did? 'Me, me me' was the only mentality that mattered to him. As he was already making clear, even whilst on vacation.    As soon as the latch is undone and he's stepping into the cool breeze, the first hit filling his lungs, he feels... somewhat better. It's not a strong enough hit, it's not as good as a drink or more would do, but it was better than nothing. Especially when he was already itching to be out of the confining spaces of their room. It was stifling -- especially when there was a country of opportunity at their fingertips and a wallet of cash to take it all. He's leaning on the rail -- one puff, two, three -- watching people pass by, watching the sun reflect of their sunglasses and cell phones, watching them buy worthless trinkets for exorbitant prices. Idiots.            "you wanna go out after you shower?"

[india santos]

Even from the shower, India can smell the scent of his cigarette looming into the bathroom. This was a habit of his that he had for as long as she could remember; a habit that she had so hoped he would quit once their relationship had hit full force. However, not even his girlfriend could even attempt to cut him out of this nasty habit. She breathes in the fresh steam of the shower, hoping that it would knock the scent of the nicotine out of the air. But even the fresh water and the smell of her body wash couldn't compress the foul smell emitting from the bedroom -- a sure fire sign that Henry would not be joining her for this afternoon shower.    As India began to finish up her shower, she could Henry shout something to her from the bedroom. Something about going out, she was sure of. In India's head, she was going round about what she wanted to wear, and how she would do her hair. Where were they going to go? Were they going to go for dinner? All of these thoughts consumed her head within a matter of minutes after exiting the shower. The brunette grabs the brush from the counter, and brushes through her hair a few times before setting the brush down. Wrapping her hair in a towel, she makes her way through to the bedroom door. On her way to the bedroom, she grabs a second towel to wrap around her lithe frame.    Once India comes into the bedroom, she finds her footing to the balcony to grab a hold of the man standing in front of her. She lets her arms wrap around the man's waist, before standing on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. He was clearly preoccupied by the cigarette, but she figured she could distract him with her body, at least for a few seconds. In an attempt to distract him, India finds her way to face the man, and lets her arms drop to his waist. She tugs on his belt in an effort to pull his body closer to hers. She gives him a smirk, and lets her fingers find their way to his neck. Her fingers are already playing with the ends of his hair, before they brush through his hair one more time, before she pulls the boy in closer to her.     "LIKE TO DINNER OR OUT OUT?" _____________________________________

[Deleted]

It doesn't take much to trigger his temper, it never did, though as he grew older, is certainly got easier to send him over the rail. And this, this was one of those moments. She strolled up to him, pulling him toward her, pressing herself against him despite the fact that she had just exited the shower. Was she seriously unaware of how much that'd piss him off? Didn't she get that getting his clothes wet and pulling him around wasn't the way to get what she wanted. No amount of kissing from a naked girl was going to alleviate the little quirks that triggered him, that he didn't get why people could ever enjoy. His shirt was already forming dark spots where her arms rested. In his mind, definitely a reason to snap at her.           "seriously? you're fucking wet -- you're getting me wet."    Balancing the cigarette between his lips and teeth, he grabs her arms and does his best to untangle her without hurting her. He knew what this trip would be like if he really lost his temper. It was easier this way, if he fought for some measure of self-control. Tugging her arms away, his fingers gripping into her forearms with just enough strength to -- hopefully -- get the message across. The one that said 'I really don't like what you did, but I'm trying not to let it ruin this trip.' He needs to change his shirt, he had been hoping that he wouldn't need to. Shit.    A sigh escapes him, a gust of smoke mingling with his breath. Good. He felt... somewhat better. He flashes her a grin, as if his momentary loss of temper had never happened, and takes tender care in tucking a strand of wet hair that had come out of her towel, back into the edge of the plush material. He could turn it on and off in a split second. The doting boyfriend, the temperamental abuser. A shoulder lifts in a lazy shrug, going back to paying attention to his cigarette, making a mess of the ashes fallen over the balcony. Who cared about a mess when you had money to pay others to clean it up for you?           "whatever you want, i can't be in this room all day."

[india santos]

The moment India hears the tone in his voice change, she tenses up. She knows this has pissed him off, and is, quite unsurprised by his reaction. This is the norm for them -- if this was normal for any couple at their age. She'd say something that, in Henry's mind, was stupid or irrelevant. Or she would do something that required a reaction, and in this case, it needed a reaction -- at least in Henry's mind it did. So naturally, when Henry's hands were on her, in a non-romantic sense, she would normally just shrug it off. This was nothing new for her, his hands on her arms, at least. It wasn't like he was slapping her, yet, so it wasn't worth it to fight it, right? "DON'T."   In an attempt to smooth things over, Henry pushes a piece of hair back into the towel. She gives a slight smile, and heads back to the bathroom to continue getting dressed for the evening. In a span of a few minutes, India brushes through her belongings to find the blowdryer, the curling iron and her various makeup bags and supplies out of her suitcase. She's begun the process of blowdrying her long mane, and within a couple of minutes, the girls hair is dry. While she lets the curling heat up to get the job done, India sifts through her makeup bag to find the things she needs.   After thirty minutes of being in the bathroom, the once young faced girl emerges to reveal a completely made over young woman. Her hair is wavy, and full, while her face is donned with dark eyeshadow and a popping red lip. Within a few minutes, India spots the tight black dress, and pulls out the red pair of heels she packed. She pulls on the dress on top of the black lacy La Perla set of lingerie underneath, and slips on the heels. She spots the jewelry bag and pulls out the earrings Henry had given her months prior as a "make up gift." She flashes the man a smile, and heads over to plant a kiss on his cheek, as a "I forgive you for earlier." "I'M READY, AND STARVING." _____________________________________

[Deleted]

Don't. She actually said Don't. That fucking word was ticking him the fuck off. It was a gift from God that she backed away and didn't send him into a fit. She was backing off, not pursuing an argument he thought she might. That was good, maybe she was finally learning when it was best not to intentionally push his buttons. Nevertheless, he's dwelling on it. She acts like he was the one in the wrong, like he's not allowed to be angry that she strolled up to him, soaking wet, and decided to press against him. He had to change, swap his shirt for a clean, dry one, slide on a near identical pair of slacks that wasn't covered in small water marks. His temper softened to a slight boil once he was changed, once she was away.     By the time her lips are pressing against his cheek, the incident is near forgotten. Not entirely, but he wasn't at risk of blowing a fuse, he was able to allow the show of affection without scowling. He was even willing to offer some of his own. A hand presses against her lower back, pulling her close enough that he could press a tender kiss to her jaw. It was a fleeting moment, one that allowed him to take in her fresh out of the shower scent. She was still so young, even her perfume reminded him of that. Not that it was necessarily a bad thing, not in his mind, but it was certainly something that forced him to remember she was delicate.    He's pulling away, his attitude shifting once more, reminding him how stir crazy he was, even after the short time they had been in the city. He's already half way across the room, his long strides completely disregarding his companion. The door is swung open, holding it ajar for her to pass, fingers tapping on the doorknob in a random pattern. He hardly acknowledge the nervous tick.           "going to dinner or are we going out? you never answered."

[india santos]

It seems as though India and Henry had formed a habit when it came to their relationship. She would say something, or do something that would piss him off. Henry would react physically, but never to the point of actually abusing her. She would react back and it would be the end of their tift; that is, until she did something even more stupid, and things would blow out of proportion. Luckily for the both of them, India decided not to react back a second time. Instead, she took a breather and by the time she was back from her breather, it seemed all had settled, at least for a while. "I SEE YOU CHANGED YOUR SHIRT."    Oddly, Henry's attitude had changed since their little argument earlier. She had expected him to still be brooding, angry over the fact that he had to change his shirt, his slacks. Instead, he was giving her affection -- something she had wanted earlier but didn't receive. This time, he's pulling her tiny body closer into his, giving her a kiss on her jaw. This was the Henry that India always wanted. The man who wasn't afraid to hold her close, the one who wasn't afraid to kiss her when others were around. Instead, he had to give off this maucho man act and act like India was just his plaything that he could toss around every once in a while. And once again, he's pulling away from her...already three steps ahead of her. "BOTH. DINNER AND THEN OUT. YOU CAN'T SIT STILL, WHY NOT BE OUT FOR A WHILE?"    India did one fell swoop around the room to make sure everything had been shut off: electronics taken out of the wall, hair devices turned off, windows shut, and lights turned off. She grabbed the black clutch from the bed and shut off the final set of lights before passing by the tannned brunette waiting on the other side of the door. She made sure to press the lock before exiting, because she knew Henry would forget. Waiting for Henry to close the door, she cracked open her new MAC lipstick and put a fresh coat on, making sure to smack her lips one last time before acknowledging Henry's presence, or his question. After making sure he closed the door, she reached down for his hand. The tiny brunette made sure his hand was interlocked with hers -- she didn't want to give any ideas to the other tourists or locals. This statement said: this man is mine and no one else can have him. "I MIGHT HAVE SNEAKILY MADE A RESERVATION AT BAGATELLE. I HOPE YOU'RE OKAY WITH FRENCH CUISINE."

_____________________________________

[Deleted]

Henry was in a perpetual state of annoyance. Not just tonight, but constantly. Sometimes he blamed India, sometimes he blamed his friends, sometimes it was some random stranger on the street that happened to breathe the wrong way. But it was never his fault. Everyone else in the world was to blame, they were in the wrong, they were the ones that should be in control of their obnoxious behavior. Henry, in all his glorious arrogance, viewed himself as completely void of any problematic behavior. Even that time a valet that took a few seconds too long to bring his car back, he had punched the man and laughed about it later. Bragged about how he had shown the man his place and ensured he did his job better in the future. People had learned long ago that speaking up about his mistreatment of others only turned his anger on them.    Even now, after seeming to 'make up' with India, he was stewing in a quiet rage. Always itching to let his aggression out, somewhere. India had become his target since they day they began dating. The occasions she didn't suffer at his physical or verbal abuse was when he had found someone else to redirect it. Tonight, he didn't have anyone else to redirect his aggression so everything the young girl did left him bristling. The length of time she took to check the room made him think she was daft, her overly affectionate attitude made him cringe and back away from it, the way she griped his hand the second the door swung shut behind him made him want to storm off and leave her hanging in the hallway. Perhaps find a local girl to screw just to teach her some sort of lesson. Holding hands was trivial, childish, in his mind. So he yanks his hand away, the gesture more aggressive than even he meant it to be.           "Don't."   The simple word isn't even uttered in a hostile tone, it simple was. As quickly as he had said it, he was on to the next thought, the next natural ( in his mind ) progression of the conversation. Instead he offers her his arm, gesturing for her to hook her fingers around the crook. Much less humiliating than swinging their arms about like a couple of children on the playground. His mind is several steps ahead, not caring about dinner, already thinking about going out. People watching, drinking, smoking, enjoying the evening in his own particular way.           "wouldn't be here if i didn't care for french shit. where do you want to go after?"

[india santos]

To say their relationship had been tumultuous was putting it lightly. The moment they began messing around, India knew what she was getting herself into. He was this burly man -- aggressive, rough, handsy. He never liked doing anything that he didn't initiate first. When Henry wanted sex, India had to comply. But when India wanted sex, he was dismissive to her. They had a relationship, that, for most was not something typical of normal people. However, for India, Henry had been the first boy she had ever fooled around with. He was the first of many for India -- first kiss, first date, first person to have sex with. And when you have all of these firsts with someone, it's hard to see past all of the faults. He wasn't the best in any aspect of life -- maybe sex, but besides that, what did he have to offer her that she couldn't find anywhere else? "STOP."    Even right now, when Henry's pulling his hand away in an aggressive manner, she can't help but want to stay by his side. He may have hurt her -- in both physical and emotional ways, but there was something that continuously made her want to be near him. He had this effect over her, and it was something that helped and hindered in, in all the wrong ways. A heavy sigh emits from the young girl -- an indication that this move had startled her in the worst way. She lets her arm settle into the crook of his, giving a slight eye roll while he looks away. Thankfully no one had been around to see this abusive manner take place between the two of them. She had gotten used to defending herself against him in private, but scurried away when it came to public altercations. He may have been almost a foot taller than her, and had muscles that bulged out, but she wasn't necessarily afraid of him. She just loved him, and that was the beginning and end of everything.    Finally, after a brief 10 minute walk, the two make their way to the restaurant. The bright-eyed girl takes a minute to take everything in, before arriving to the front entrance. Within a few seconds, the couple is seated, with wine already being brought out to the table. She takes a sip of the beverage, and looks out over the ocean. She takes a second to overlook the view, silently thinking to herself of how lucky she is to be here. How lucky she was to have a boyfriend who would spend the money on her, even though she wasn't sure how "boyfriend" like he would be this trip. In a perfect world, they would do all the fun, romantic things normal couples would do. But then again, Henry and India are the furthest thing from normal. Browsing the menu, she finally decides on what she wants and delivers that to the waiter. She locks eyes on the man sitting in front of her -- this man had a fucked up brain...but she couldn't keep away. "ARE YOU IN THE MOOD TO DANCE WITH ME? IF YOU ARE, WE COULD GO TO ST. BARTH YACHT CLUB. I'VE READ GOOD THINGS ABOUT IT."

_____________________________________

[Deleted]

Every damn time the word 'stop' came out of her mouth, he wanted to punch a wall. What the fuck was her problem? Why did she feel the need to constantly police everything he did or said? Jesus Christ, he couldn't wrap his own head around why he wasn't stomping off right then and there. Maybe he was a masochist and he didn't even realize it. She infuriated him, she had always infuriated him. From the first day he met her, she had been a conquest. The pretty little Santos girl that hadn't been tarnished by any other boys -- yet -- and her brother, one of his closest friends, had warned him off as soon as she started spending more time with them. Forbidding him only made him want her more. He just wanted her to shut her mouth and abide by his every whim. If she could submit to him that way, then they'd be a perfect pair. It was too bad she couldn't manage something so simple.    To her benefit, she seldom raised a fuss in public, which allowed him to put on the facade of decent boyfriend to anyone who might look on at the pair. He kept her close, pulled out her chair in restaurants, opened doors, bought her flowers and jewelry, smiled and laughed at all the appropriate times. And sometimes, the gestures came from a genuine place, but even he struggled to remember which were which. When was he acting? When was he serious? The liquor, drugs and general pissy attitude tended to cloud any differentiation.    An eyebrow quirks. He had been almost entirely silent up until this point. Even placing an order, he had barely muttered the words before allowing his gaze to flick around the room, hardly paying attention to the table before him until India speaks. "No." For once, this evening, the brief answer isn't dripping with aggression, it's indifferent, even passive -- for him. He's never been the type that goes to clubs to dance, he goes to parties, clubs, where ever for the atmosphere. To pick up a pretty young thing, to drink, smoke, fuck about with whatever friends happened to be in the room. The only time you could catch him dancing was for appearances, if someone dragged him to the dance floor and he couldn't say no. But he's being semi-decent so far, so he flashes her a classic Henry Schwartz smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "We can go anyway."

[india santos]

In all of their time together, India had very seldom seen the softer side to Henry. In public, they rarely had any altercations. He treated her like any boyfriend would treat their significant other; pulling the chairs out, holding doors open, keeping a hand on her back, kissing her in front of crowds. However, in private, things were a very different story. He'd raise his voice to shout vile things at her; call her dumb, or even worse. He'd corner her, because he was so much bigger than her. He could crush her whole body in one fell swoop if he really wanted to. And within the last few years, Henry even became physically abusive towards her. There would be nights where he got too aggressive and handsy and would often leave bruises on her thighs, or hips -- too often in places where nobody else but the two could see. He never got too out of hand, though, in fear of being caught. Everyone around India kept telling her to get out of the relationship, and even with all of the abuse, she wouldn't leave him. She was too afraid of being alone.    When the abuse first began, India was too afraid to say anything back to Henry in fear of being pushed further, or hurt worse. But as she began to grow up, both in the relationship and outside the relationship, she eventually grew a backbone. She began to grow a thicker skin, and was finally -- somewhat -- able to respond back to him. In their private moments when he got too handsy, she'd tell him to back off, or stop without fear of him striking back harder or doing something worse. However, in public, she wouldn't dare to call him out on it, or even make a scene. She didn't want a repeat of their blowout back in 2008. That was the only time that things had ever gotten way out of hand, and even then, she went a little far with her retaliation. At the end of the day, all India wanted was Henry to reciprocate a little bit of what she was throwing his way. It wasn't much to ask for some affection, or something of the sort. But Henry only truly cared about himself, and India couldn't force him to care about her in the way she wanted.    She can tell when he's lying, and in this moment, he's lying. She was the only one who truly wanted to go out, dancing, in particular. India was all for getting physical on the dance floor, because it meant that that would translate to the bedroom at some point in the night. To say she was a sexual human being was an understatement. Henry definitely brought out that side in her, one of the only positives he did bring to the table. If she got him on the floor, dancing and grinding with her, things would go both of their ways. But if he wasn't for it, she'd have to figure out other ways to entertain him; considering he didn't want to be in the hotel room for the majority of their trip. She gives him a slight smile, as her eyebrows perk up. She crosses her legs under the table, letting one of her heels "accidentally" brushing against his knee. "You don't sound so sure. What do you wanna do?" At least she was giving Henry the option to choose, instead of her doing all the deciding. She's leaving the offer on the table, at this point it was up to him to decide.

_____________________________________

[Deleted]

The man that sat across from the young brunette was not the same man that she had spoken to in the hotel room, he wasn't the man that had aggressively knocked her hand away from his, or even the man that seemed to brood in silence for the entirity of the trek to the restaurant. That Henry was hidden behind a carefully placed mask, one that he had spent his entire life perfecting. After too many suspensions and lectures by his parents and teachers, he had figured it out. Kids, teens, adults -- they could all be fooled with a smile and a few kind words. They didn't have to mean anything. He could tell their waitress she was gorgeous, when underneath it all, he hadn't spent more than a few seconds on her appearance. There was a woman across the room that exuded such sexual allure, he was sure she was an escort, but even she hardly caught his attention. Nevertheless, he smirked as his gaze traveled about the room and back to his girlfriend, the same bored, but almost-pleasant expression holding flawlessly.    The only genuine part of him was his feelings regarding going out dancing. He didn't care. He wasn't into dancing, unless he was watching a redhead spin around a pool with her double d's in his face and that was not what was not the plan for the night. A should rises and falls, his elbows rested on the arms of his chair, leaning back without a care in the world. He's the picture of nonchalance. "I sound perfectly sure," he begins, inwardly bristling at what he views as her attempting to dissect his words, but it's not evident. He's collected. "You can dance, I can mingle."  And drink, watch the dance floor, whatever the Hell else might strike his fancy at any given moment. He was more than content people watching than participating in those circumstances. When he was forced, he was testy and aggressive for the rest of the evening. Tonight, this was Henry attempting his best show at being a good boyfriend -- or as good as he's capable of being.   The second wine is poured into his glass, his fingers are wrapped around the stem and prepared to toss the liquid back like a shot of tequila, but he's better than that. He's a Schwartz, not some common hick that bought his wine at the corner store and didn't give two what the differences between them were. Though in the moment, he could've forgotten that. It's brought to his mouth, the way his father drinks, the way other men of establishment drink wine when they don't have a bottle of scotch at the ready. "I honestly don't care where we go. We don't have to be attached at the hip if you're into doing something I'm not." Perhaps not the answer she was looking for, but it was the best he could offer. If he made all the decisions, he'd be dragging her all over town doing God only knows what and she would hate every minute of it. He knew that for a fact and he wasn't in the mood to try to take wild guesses. Which meant he was left with one option: let her pick the places. He'd find something to do anywhere.

notes:  i'll probs stop changing my coding & graphics someday

[india santos]

The relationship that the brunette shared with the man sitting across from her was different than any other relationship she had ever witnessed. In public, they were just like any normal couple. Displaying a limited amount of affection, while still being able to be identified as a couple. They held hands, occasionally. Exchanged kisses, and playfully tugged at each other. However, behind closed doors things were very very different. If they were going to engage in any kind of intimacy, it had to be on Henry's watch; though, there were times when India would initiate something and he'd, reluctantly, respond. If India said something that he didn't like, he would forcefully react. Mainly by using his words; but more often than not, he would react with his actions. While this did scare her, it made India want to stay with him that much more, and that's something that she would honestly never understand.    All India wanted to do tonight was to just be with her boyfriend; whether that meant dancing, or sleeping or kissing. She was in an overly-affectionate mood, and she wasn't sure how that would transpire with the man in front of her. An eyebrow arches, an arm retreats to her lap. She gives a sigh, and lets her gaze fall upon the half-full glass of wine in front of her. His answers were not what she wanted; though, if she were being honest, he was being a lot more open to the other ideas than he usually was. "I would've expected you to shoot the entire idea down from the get-go." Which was quite a possibility, and one that she was definitely used to, in an odd way. The brunette shifts her gaze from the glass to Henry's face, eventually locking eyes with his. She adjusts in her seat, and gives him a smile. "Will you care if I dance with other men?" Usually he was quite possessive, but India was definitely curious as to whether or not he would care this time around.    The girl fidgets with her fingers, letting them pick at the skin around her nails. Her foot twitches in her heels; an obvious sign that she was getting anxious, impatient. The night wasn't going nearly as planned -- they had been waiting for what felt like forever for their food, and she wasn't getting the answers she wanted from the man sitting in front of her. It wasn't like India to get upset in public, but all of this together was beginning to be a bit too much to handle for her. The girl finishes off her glass of wine, and gently lets the glass return to the table. "Do you care if we just do separate things? I mean, it seems like the only obvious choice since you're not into dancing with me at the moment. I'm sure you can find other ways to entertain yourself?" Which, in reality, she was quite sure of. There were plenty of girls for him to peruse around with, there were plenty of things he could be doing other than watching her fawn over other men. He'd get bored anyway. It seemed like an obvious option for both of them. "Or we could just go back to the hotel..." she gave him a smirk, a smile that let him know exactly what she was thinking. Besides, when would Henry shoot down an opportunity to bed India? It wasn't like he didn't have the drive for her. But, at least she put the offer on the table. _____________________________________ NOTES: Keep that picture -- Nick looks so good there.