. murder on the dancefloor

[dominic vinten cuvo]

Places like this, this amount of luxury, it simply made sense to him. When he boasted about being superior to others, Dominic meant it in every way, that he existed on planes most others uselessly dreamed of ascending to. And he never gave it a second thought, never imagined his life as anything else, ignoring the slim chance that it could all be taken away from him. Mirren was sure to put a few things together, but he wasn’t going to help her finish the puzzle. “Mine? Of course not,” he chuckled at the semantics, the places devoid enough of any personalization that he couldn't be certain either way. He moves to release the single button holding his shirt together when Mirren is suddenly near. “Fuck,” he practically giggles at the sting of the alcohol on his new wound, brushing up against an internal switch he doubted she wanted activated. No, she wasn’t the type of girl to tear her nails into it until it made a gash, or to smear the color on herself and mark him with bloody hand prints. No, that girl was currently downstairs who knows where, expecting him to fold on their challenge. Holding her eyes as she tended to his wound, Dominic thanked her, fingers coming over hers to hold the cotton in place. Here he was, shirtless on display for her, but she can’t seem to get away from the food. “Well, sure. Who doesn’t love halloumi,” he shrugged, caught off guard. Going back to the kitchen sounded like a dreadful trek. “I could have some brought up to us,” he supposed, or he could claim to be lactose intolerant or mistrustful of Greeks.

[kitty smith-sato]

LORD, WHAT FOOLS THESE MORTALS BE.                                                                

k a t h e r i n e        outfit

Storm clouds continue to swirl above, with the odd flash of lightening. This was what wealth was to Katherine, the ability to desire something, even something as frivolous as a stormy ceiling or a carousel on the beach, and to know that you could make that whim come to life. No matter how many languages she mastered she knew that money was always going to be the one she was most fluent in, universal as it was. It did lead to boredom, however. Feeling his head turn she lets her hand lazily land in Calvin's hair, nails scratching against his scalp in a rhythmic pattern. As much as she despised the touch of strangers, Kitty strangely adored physical touch with the people she deemed worthy. "Unimaginative. He's got to sleep with that plain girl before the night is out." She wonders where they are, if maybe they were upstairs fucking each others brains out right now... no, Dom would text. No, he'd call. Video call. "She's such a goody goody, but maybe that drama will tip things in his favor. How did she look, did it look like it made her horny?"

[mirren hewitt]

& WITH A KISS, CONSUMES

CAL FIT

He's in one of his favorite predicaments, dancing on a razor's edge. Any turn from Violet and she'd catch the view above her, one of his hands idly stroking her hair to keep her at bay tucked under his chin. His eyes flutter shut at her ministrations, lips pressing quietly to her bare skin before he turned further into the touch that raked through his own. Their odds rolling in his mind, wondering what the stakes were, how far one would go to tip the scales in their own direction. Poor girl. "What're you playing for?" It's the more dangerous question, expecting the lie as he expertly tipped the remains of his glass into his mouth. His eyes flutter shut momentarily, enjoying the smooth down and back she'd been carving. "She looked lost, a little destroyed...unfortunately for him the cookie cutter just seemed a little bent out of shape."

& Do I Dare Disturb The Universe?

Mirren Outfit

It felt nice to ground herself in something, even the tiny, menial task of tending to a scrape. Mirren mutters a tiny “sorry”, pressing harder to staunch whatever tiny beads tried to escape before his hand covered her own. Costume rings dotted some of his fingers but the only other thing she realized was how easily it engulfed hers, skin warm over her touch before she gently pried herself away. Trying not to let the fire continue to burn, unsure if her cheeks were behaving as she flicked her gaze away from how his shirt had fallen away. Matt idly enters her mind, a flash of cold water, and her attention spins to the nearest available thing. Then to his strange response, brows tugging together in question. “Halloumi? Oh...literally, grilled cheese. No I meant the sandwich.” The silence lingers, Mirren's eyes widening at the realization. “Have you never had a grilled cheese sandwich before?” Another task, another mission, whirring back to life as she paced to the doorway. “I'm making you one, that kitchen has to have the basics.”

[dominic vinten cuvo]

This isn’t working. She isn’t throwing herself at him, begging him to help her forget the night. She hasn’t dramatically kicked and screamed in his arms before falling into devastating sobs. They haven't accidentally gotten too close and ended up trading passionate, desperate kisses. A rolodex of referential movies comes up with nothing, Mirren continuing to blow the script despite her rocky night and their several drinks. Back turned to her, Dominic can’t believe she’s going on about cheese while he’s undressing, swallowing a groan of frustration that rolled into a chuckle at her silly question. He simply stared at her, dark eyes briefly narrowing in helpless confusion. “What is that, some sort of delicacy where you come from?” he wondered, trying to remember where she mentioned, still concerned that she might be girl on rumspringa. This was all very…domestic of her, tending to his wounds and making him a sandwich. “What are you—” he started before she was back toward the kitchen, Dominic rolling his eyes but doomed to follow anyway. This was proving more challenging than he thought, watching the girl take to the kitchen and even converse with the staff! The horror. He poured himself a stiff drink, shooting daggers at a passer-by while she wasn’t looking, fixing his hair in the reflection he caught in the oven door. “This is all very...intriguing,” he decided with a smirk, angling himself across the corner of the counter to watch her, knuckles balancing his head. The alcohol pooling, his mask was slipping and the role was becoming too boring to keep up. “You’re a strange girl.”

[kitty smith-sato]

LORD, WHAT FOOLS THESE MORTALS BE.                                                                

k a t h e r i n e        outfit

Day drinking has led to a slight headache, one the most recent drink has done little to quell. She can't remember if anonymity was a clause of the bet, can't remember the conversation where they established the terms at all, so distracted was she by her one chance at salvation. Like a sinner converting to Catholicism on their deathbed, she needed this to tip in her favor... seeing Henry tonight had confirmed that. "Unspecified favors," she lies, well, semi-lies when it comes to herself. "The most dangerous kind." A self-satisfied smile spreads across her face as he speaks of Mirren, a double whammy of hearing that the odds were playing out favorably and hearing that little miss perfect was having a bad time. At least if she did lose she would have the consolation prize of telling her that it had been a bet all along. But she's feeling good about tonight, encouraged by Henry's exit. "Spreading good news and dispatching exes... Calvin, have I ever told you that I love you?"

[mirren hewitt]

& WITH A KISS, CONSUMES

CAL FIT

"Ooh, say it again." If she had any idea of what he possessed those words would have never fallen in his favor, likely only conjured out of desperation should he dangle it over Dominic's head like an errant toy. Luckily for Kitty he wasn't in the mood to wield it tonight, most energy zapped out of his body as he, too, studied the swirling ceiling above. A heady combination of Kitty's touch and its spiraling vortex had him ensnared, content to spend the rest of the evening here because if he wasn't with them, nothing else mattered. Violet even felt like she was sleeping, breaths deep against his chest, and it was this quiet solidarity that cemented something further. "Does the party even matter if we're not there?"

& Do I Dare Disturb The Universe?

Mirren Outfit

Mirren was a girl no a mission, the catering staff looking at her strangely before they eventually realized she wasn't completely out of it. From there it was rummaging through labeled crates and various ice chests, delighted to procure a loaf of sourdough and creamy French butter, cheeses sliced neatly by hand to the amuse of the chef on sight. “I'm not the one who doesn't know an American classic,” Mirren lofts back, watching butter melt and swirl on the surface of a hot pan. Two sandwiches were delicately assembled over bread already sizzling, dark eyes glued to the gentle melt of the ingredients together. She manages two expert flips before they're transferred to a plate after another minute, servers quietly moving around the corner the pair now occupied. “My favorite midnight snack if I'm not too drunk to use the burners. If I am, pizza it is.” Cheese pulls deliciously between the triangles she splits, only severed when she dared a bite. Hot but perfect, looking his way in curiosity. “C'mon. I can't wait to hear your thoughts.”

[dominic vinten cuvo]

It’s an abomination of fats and carbs. His trainer would have a fit, his fellow models would flee. But still Dominic stands, listening to her whimsical little narrations, watching as she seemed to take comfort in this environment. By the time the sandwiches are finished he’s sat on the counter, tuning out the other clatter and chatter of the kitchen, nursing and refilling his own drink, nudging an ever-filling one to her. His mind struggled to place the food, as it was simply boring toast with boring cheese; surely this must be a poor person’s meal. “I’m not sure I want to hear what your version of pizza is next,” he all but scoffed, tempted to boast of his Italian heritage and will the fury of his ancestors on her. Like a curious chimpanzee, he watched her pull it apart and mimicked her. It felt as though he were being welcomed into a new culture, cautiously and hesitantly nibbling at a corner. He cleared his throat, looking away as he chewed. “It’s fine,” he lied with a shrug, finishing it in big, greedy bites. It was delightful, perhaps even better with a gourmet tomato reduction. “Other people know about these?” he wondered suspiciously, tempted to reach for hers when he noticed a crumb on her face, inching closer. “You’ve got a little something…” he murmured, thumbing it away, lingering as he admired the little beauty mark below her bottom lip, rising up to meet eyes that reminded him of a fox. “Got it.”

[mirren hewitt]

& Do I Dare Disturb The Universe?

Mirren Outfit

Mirren smartly holds her tongue when it comes to pizzas created from scratch, knowing he'd likely be horrified that one of her renditions involved half a loaf of French bread. Instead she swigs her freshly filled drink, watching him study her creation. It was interesting to watch someone fascinated with something so typically mundane, smirking as his tepid response was immediately betrayed by the quickness in which it disappeared. “Looks like you hated it,” she smarms, about to push the rest of her plate his way until she realized her responses were delayed. Until he was close, closer, dark gaze burning a trail up her skin she could feel. Over her lips, back to her eyes, Mirren caught in suspension until the air between them seemed to disappear. It feels like a blood instinct when she drifts in closer, lashes pulled low until something, somehow, slices through. Matt, strikes soundly, spine straightening back and away. Matt, Matt, Matt. Even with her complicated feelings for him he still remained, and she couldn't fathom losing everything right now when she'd already lost so much. Mirren fully looks away at the realization, clearing her throat as shame burned her skin. “I...sorry, I have a boyfriend.”

[kitty smith-sato]

LORD, WHAT FOOLS THESE MORTALS BE.                                                                

k a t h e r i n e        outfit

The rhythmic rise and fall of Violet's chest suggests that yes, she has dozed off, and the imagine sends a pang of something akin to affection through Kitty's body. She must really be drunk. "I love you," she repeats easily, a drunken haze settling over her comfortably. Things were falling into place; Dom would lose the bet and with it, she'd have salvation from her sins with Henry. Calvin seemed less threatening than she had built him up to be in his absence, and she even felt some attachment to Violet, spurred on no doubt by the discord in another friendship group that they had front row seats to. Kitty's glad that these are her friends and that things have settled down to some kind of normalcy, completely unaware of the nuclear revelation Calvin had up his sleeve. "No. And on that note, I'm going to love you and leave you." She's caught on to someone making eyes at her across the room, a tall, tanned lacrosse type, her type, and she gives him a knowing look towards the stairs. "Brunch tomorrow, don't be late." And with that she places her empty glass on a passing tray, heading up to one of the unoccupied bedrooms, giving Cal a little wave as she goes.

[dominic vinten cuvo]

It’s a curious thing, taking all this time to mention a boyfriend. One of his thick brows cocks upward, surprised that she has had interactions with the opposite sex…though it could easily be a lie all the same, an excuse kept in her back pocket once things got too close. And close is what they are at the moment, Dominic studying the contours of her face, the glitter that had been flooded away from her tears, the summer-kissed color of her skin beneath the shimmering dress. He loses her eyes when she looks away but he moves a stray hair from her temple, gingerly brushing it back. “That is a shame,” he returns coolly, as if she’d just told him the weather. Unimpressed and unfazed, if only disappointed by a slight chance of rain. “Even a worse pity he isn’t here..” he followed up, as far as he knew anyway. Dominic drifted slightly to her side, allowing her some space and air as he pulled more from his glass, cloyed by the scent of her perfume mixing with alcohol and sweat. “What do you think your friends are doing right now?” he wondered out loud, pivoting, licking the moisture from his lips. “You know, the best revenge is to have a good night despite them.”

[mirren hewitt]

& Do I Dare Disturb The Universe?

Mirren Outfit

She's surprised she doesn't stumble into an explanation. That he's at school, that he plays hockey, that it's been two years, all facts that felt useless under his stare. Under the touch that drags at her hair, her slight shoulders coming up almost in confirmation to his guess. The ache of wanting him to be here had dulled, muted itself in these hazy months of consideration, looking forward to his camaraderie more than the way he held her hand or drew her mouth to his own. The natural progression almost reversing course, braving another sip of her own. Then suddenly remembering Colt's suggestion to break up with him that hazy, high night they spent together, almost laughing back into her glass. God, how ridiculous; she'd have to backtrack over every interaction now, thread through them and wonder which was said out of friendship and which was thrown in quick evasion. It seemed like lofty work, Mirren waving off his mention of them because of all things that still stung. A stab of betrayal, quick and low, washing away at the bottom of another flute. “Either ignoring each other, fighting too, or who knows...they could have just gone back to hook up with me out of the picture.” It feels low, and cold for her, unease settling in as she pushed away from the counter. Trying to see if she could muster any energy that felt so extinguished under the events of the evening. “Does that mean it's time to revisit your carousel?”

[dominic vinten cuvo]

His head tipped to the side, assessing her. As if she were speaking a different language and he was a practicing novice trying to keep up. Or he was under the surface of a fluid, one ear out of the water, the other muffled and clogged—usually by his own swirling, chaotic thoughts. Tonight Dom has had more to drink than he has to snort, his senses losing their sharpness, throwing anchors at random in the vicinity: her lips, her hands, her eyes. Randomly remembering his own limbs and stature, the wound on his chest long forgotten, everything dulled down. However, mention of the carousel lights a spark in him: “Oh yes, let’s!” As if teleported, the next moment they’re back on the sand, Dominic snickering as they’d successfully ducked away from the party yet again, under the cloak of darkness, tugging her by the hand up to the platform, decidedly annoyed if anyone else was on it and that it was not yet in the water. Lit by the bright bulbs and glittery mirrors, Dominic found his horse—and nudged Mirren toward it in offering. “I think this one would like you on it,” he announced as representative of horse-Dominic, moving onto the one next to it, moving just off tempo from hers. This was a terrible idea for anyone struggling with balance or focus. "Have you ever been kissed on a carousel?"

[mirren hewitt]

& Do I Dare Disturb The Universe?

Mirren Outfit

It feels as if the world spins and they're back on the revolving carousel, air salty sweet on her skin, breeze cooling against the force of its loping circulations. Mirren's buzz is sharp yet fuzzy around the edges, just mindless enough to follow his direction. Indulge in a lean against his chosen pony, only frowning when she realized she was still in a tiny dress. Adjusting it for the 100th time she swayed slightly with the machine, unsure if her idea had been a great one all of a sudden as everything churned uneasily. “Probably not.” Her last memory being on one of these dated back to her childhood, likely too focused on securing her favorite horse than focusing on a boy, let alone trying to lean over and coordinate that. “Have you?” She's almost bewildered trying to work out the timing, then suddenly enraptured by the brightness from above. “Look. A full moon.”

[dominic vinten cuvo]

“Look. A full moon.” It’s the last thing he really remembers when he wakes up, rather violently, at who knows what hour in the morning. His phone is vibrating somewhere, eyelids unwilling to part to locate it, blindly groping about the sheets to rid of it for accosting his peace. He’s shirtless, one sock still on his foot tangled in the messy heap of clothes at the base of the bed, pillows strewn every which way. Sunlight invading through a crack in the curtains, the air stale and quiet…except for a rhythmic breathing next to him. His phone sounds again, garnering a groan as he searches for it with a vengeance, squinting to see that it’s Kitty FaceTiming him. His thumb missed the decline button several times before tossing it away and reaching for the silhouette of a glass on the nightstand. He drank greedily before snapping upright from the disgusting liquid surprise—it was water! Raking a hand over his face, trying to remember where his beloved vial had gone, Dominic cleared his eyes enough to register Mirren curled up next to him, absently thumbing the little wound on his chest as a grin split his face. “Good morning, sunshine,” he purred, petting the hair from her face to confirm her identity.

[mirren hewitt]

& Do I Dare Disturb The Universe?

Mirren Outfit

Mirren swears she should feel the chill of the waves right now, not a strange, bathing warmth all over as she immersed herself in the darkness. Maybe she'd gone under the water and it was high season, a stillness she'd rarely inhabited so late in a night. It's only when she goes to move does she realize it's silky under her fingers and she's not met with the resistance of the ocean, eyes opening sharply under the realization. Then immediately scrunching shut, hit with the intensity of the sun and the clarity of a headache. What had happened the rest of the night? She tries to sort through the memories under a groan, the early evening flooding back in an unfortunate confirmation. Then later portions of it, bits and pieces, drawn back to waking when a hand passes over her face. Then a momentarily unfamiliar voice sounds in the air, Mirren's heart soaring as she panicked. Her gaze is fuzzy and takes a minute to register him, then her haphazard state, pushing up and away from the bed at a way faster rate than she'd anticipated. She has to hold her head as it spins violently, eyeing the oversized t-shirt and boxers she was wearing, the dress dropped into a pile near the corner. Thankfully Dominic (at least his name came back) was also wearing pants, trying to piece together the edges of last night in a drudge of ice cold fear and nausea. “When did we go inside last night?”