2007-09-10: Tastes Like Strawberries


Church_icon.gif Felix_icon.gif Mariska_icon.gif

Summary: Church is not a modeling drunk, you keep your catwalk!

Date It Happened: September 10th, 2007

Tastes Like Strawberries

Midtown East - Fly By Night Cocktail Bar

Drinking establishments usually don't need much to get on Lawrence's good list. Mostly just a nice vibe and perhaps a good first impression in terms of actual drinks. Any place with couches automatically gets free points. It is on one of these in the Fly By Night that he sits on, the black leather rather lonely on the other end. Luckily, Church has company on his end, though she looks like she's only been there for a few minutes. The man is wearing an open suit like on most days, though his tie is askew at the collar. It works wonders when one needs to go from Dressed Up to Ruffled. Just one little thing. In one hand, a drink, in the other arm beside him, a smiling woman. The picture of charm, innit?

Felix's only real concession to the informality of afterhours drinking is to abandon his tie, open his collar, and wear contacts instead of glasses. He looks a bit less uptight, at least. Though the gun is still under his arm. Ivanov the paranoid doesn't go out unarmed, and this place is high-class enough that they don't pat you down. It's posh joint, really, but Fel doesn't seem at all uncomfortable. But then, he's got an excellent pokerface.

Does he ever. It rivals his 'O' face is excellence (and practical use, as of late). But, ANYWAYS… hi! Guess who's wearing a dress again? No, not him — Mariska! This one's a classic - the little black dress; it's a relatively short, asymmetrical number that covers one shoulder scant half-sleeved by a flowy piece of silk while the other is left entirely bare. Hello, naked knees. Hello, high and strappy heels. Coupled with her dark hair, bedroom eyes, and evening-appropriate make-up… it's more like: HELLO, NURSE!

Church has his attention on the brown-eyed blonde beside him; she's probably mid-thirties, and wearing a sleeve-topped maroon dress. She's got some naked knee action going on too, but generally, Lawrence actually keeps his eyes above shoulder level. They seem to be chatting about something or other, and nothing in particular. At least until she turns beet red, and Church visibly laughs. Perhaps out of habit, he scans the front of the bar from behind a sip of his glass; familiar faces aren't hard to find, but for now he does nothing to make himself noticeable.

Unfortunately, Church is noticeable just by virtue of being who he is. So Fel picks his way towards him, first, rather than heading directly for the bar.

And, thus, Mariska follows along in high-heeled tow. She doesn't appear to be particularly pleased with the crowd but there's little to be done short of climbing onto a table and screaming 'FIRE!' to cue a swift exit, and so she just does her best to remain in Felix's bodily wake.

Crap. Here they come. Act natural, keep talking to the blonde- apparently he mentions the wrong thing in his bid to keep an eye off of Felix, and suddenly has Strawberry Daiquiri all over his face, and is down one huffy woman, now in flight from whence she came. Lawrence says absolutely nothing, instead staring intently at Felix's approach with one brow lowered and the other one just a twitch higher.
"Wow, you just went down in flames like a Spitfire over Calais," Felix says, quite visibly impressed with the strength of her reaction. "Man, what'd you -say-?" he wonders, looking around for some napkins, which he offers to Church.

Knowing Church (which Mariska doesn't, really)… could have been anything. 'Say, chilly weather we're having… mind if I warm my head between your legs?' The Russian woman simply stands behind the fussing Felix, pitching a piqued but unsurprised look at the daiquiri-drenched man.

Church accepts the napkins in silence, pressing them to his face with an 'urgh'. Good thing it was his face and not his shirt. "I saw you coming over and used the wrong pronoun. I think I might have accidentally implied she was a whore? It was all a blur." Lawrence offers Mariska a smile, and her black dress certainly doesn't go unappreciated. Hey, if she dressed like that, she obviously wants someone to look at her.

That's mostly Fel's job. With the awed expression of a man who literally can't believe his luck, for the most part. "You move quickly," Fel says, grinning despite himself. "I don't think I've ever managed to detach someone flirting with me that fast without actually pulling a weapon. Mariska, what's your poison for the evening?" he says, looking back to her deferentially.

Does she cling to the stereotype or does she make an effort to branch out… meet new people… try new things? Wait. She has a completely ridiculous idea. This just might work. Mariska takes a seat next to Lawrence, puts one hand behind his head and then — get this — licks his temple where there just so happens to be a few pink streaks of daiquiri left behind. Survey says? "I'll have what she was having." HAHAOHGODWHATJUSTHAPPENEDTHERE?!?!!1

There's a wink from the woman that goes along with that declaration but it's likely that Felix might not have even caught it… if only because, damn, seriously. Who does that?!

Church continues his disgruntled mopping up, napkins now stained with the pink-red liquid. Just as he is about to give Felix a piece of his mind- wait, Misha, what are you- lick. The man tenses when Mariska takes him by the back of the head, jaw slacking and eyebrows knitting when she licks his face. What is going on here? Was she drunk when she came in? "…Can you pull that heart-shaped arrow out of my neck while you're there?" Wait, no. "Strawberry daiquiri." He's really at a loss. Left field, Misha? "Maybe give me one of those anti-dream pinches, too, 'cause I could have sworn you just licked my face."

And Fel's pokerface dissolves into a frankly staggered expression. Because honestly, that's gonna go so wrong, in so very many ways. "I. Uh," he says, eloquently. "That was a strawberry daiquiri, wasn't it?" he says, in the abruptly flat tone of a cop taking notes at a crime scene. No doubt in order to hide his utterly complete embarrassment. He's actually blushing, again.

Is Mariska channeling Mara (or Meryl)? Was that just some cheap attempt to seem coy and cute or… is she on a lot of drugs? (Or, maybe the question you should be asking is… who was she really trying to embarrass there?) Whatever the case, she obediently delivers a pinch to the side of Church's thigh before removing her arm from around the man's shoulders and affecting a much more sedate and casual posture on the opposite end of the couch. It's almost as if those last thirty seconds or so didn't just happen. Poof! Deleted from memory. Why are they looking at her so oddly? What? She's been sane this whole time.

Church flinches his leg away from Mariska when he is pinched. It's a figure of speech! Ow. Just watch it bruise. His own drink is still in his hand, ice clinking together as it melts. "Yeah, Felix." Lawrence stares at the Russian woman as she adopts a seat further away. Just for that, I'll be ogling you now. For great justice! "What? What? …What do I have to do to be your booty call?" He goes from incredulous to enraptured in a matter of seconds.

Was that a really bizarre proposition for a threesome? Fel is clearly at a loss, and very much unsure of how to respond. Good thing Mara isn't here or it could've degenerated really fast. He glances between them as if not certain he's hallucinating or not. And then chokes back laughter. Oh, nice with the subtle, kids. He shows no particular jealousy, though.

"Well, first… learn to speak Russian. I want you to understand what I'm saying while I'm whispering in your ear," says the Fly by Night femme-fatale-of-the-moment, accent rolling over those hard 'R's like a bad Bond villainess. "And, second…?" She pauses to pass an unmistakable look over to Felix and, in fact, keeps her face turned towards him even when she replies: "…I hear it helps if you're a little bit «blue»." Was Church supposed to understand that last word? Mariska returns her gaze to the slightly sticky, strawberry-flavored man and offers him a thin, razor-sharp grin.

Bond Villainess? That's only Absolutely Awesome in Lawrence's book. He scoots just a couple of inches closer, resisting the urge to go even more; brown eyes wander hesitantly towards Felix again. Are you going to liquor her up or not? Y/N? "Not knowing is knowing." He assures the woman perched on the other side of the leather couch. "Like now- I have no idea what it helps to be a bit of, but it sounded soooo nice. «Do you know how to use a whip»?" Church settles into a croon. In Spanish.
Fel, human thermometer. Because he goes pale at Misha's first comment. And then red again. He's abruptly heading for the bar. He does not explain that particular word. That's up to her.

Naturally, Mariska is clueless as to what Church just threw in there at the end, but as he inches closer, she reciprocates the inverse by scooting back… not that there's much in the way of 'back' left to go. Really, it's more of a slightly awkward lean. Did she start something she can't finish? Where did Felix go? Where's the booze? Crap. Hi. "Not knowing is not knowing," she retorts firmly. Or… is that supposed to be: Not no-ing is not no-ing? No 'no' means 'yes'? Huhwha…?! HALP!!

"'Not knowing is half the fun' work better for you?" Lawrence seems to take comfort in the fact he's now her only company here. Silly Felix, leaving little red riding hood all alone with the wolf. "You'll…have to teach me some Russian if you want to be firm about it." A little scoot closer again. Hey, lady, you're the one that licked his face.

This might be Felix' oh-so-unsubtle vengeance for certain earlier behavior. He returns with a daiquiri for her and a shot of something like bourbon for himself. The former is handed off. "Call off the dogs, Church," he says, drily. "I'm not the jealous type, but if you don't stop licking your whiskers like that, I'll have to get rough."

Alright, okay, so… maybe Felix manages to provoke something a little smirking smile out of Misha that doesn't come from a place in her heart lined with hate. That was… almost vaguely chivalrous. All the same, Mariska reaches out a hand to a little-less-than-gently pat Church on the cheek as she replies in a crooning voice of her own, «I'll be sure to start with the things you're apt to hear the most like… is it supposed to be that small? And maybe… no, thanks, I'm disappointed enough already.» It's hard to make any Russian sound romantic or sweet, especially sarcastic Russian, but here she is, somehow pulling it off with a sugary smile. Oh, look. Booze! (More importantly, booze that she doesn't have to siphon off of someone else's skin.)

Dogs? What dogs? There is only one. "She started it. You saw. She's just intimidating you with her tigress tactics." Church eyes Felix at the start of the reprimand, taking a slow gulp from his glass. "Please?" Get rough. I dare you. Meanwhile, he just looks at Mariska helplessly when she speaks and pats at his face, eyeing her with the same sort of wonder one might get from a housecat. I have no idea what you are saying, but I'll look at you anyway. By the end of it, Lawrence looks towards Felix again, a loose frown on his lips. "She's making fun of me, isn't she?"

Misha gets a faintly stern look from Felix. Despite the whole and literal blow-up in the cells, Fel's apparently begun to file Church with Benji in terms of 'fellow victim of the Company', and thus worthy of a little solidarity. «God,» he says, taking a sip of his bourbon. «Remind me never to get on your bad side.» He does not translate for Church's benefit. Some things ARE better left unsaid. He rolls his eyes. "No. I don't go in for the whips and the chains. I carry cuffs because it's part of the job, not because it's a kink. Yes. She was being sarcastic. Man, do I have to separate you two?"

The daiquiri in Mariska's hand is lifted in an acknowledging toast to Felix's Russian reply and she couples that rise with a bounce of her brows as if to say and show just how wholeheartedly she'll drink to whatever sentiment was just expressed. She offers Church an apology by way of a chaste pat on the knee and then asks, "So… is the evening going any better for you yet?" Maybe that little incident was just some bizarre attempt to make the man feel better about having a drink served directly to his face in full view of his peers…?

Nice way to be a bummer, Felix! But then again, now la-la-land has images of Felix with the- well. Enough said. "Oh, Felix, you know as well as I do that BDSM isn't the only way to be rough." Lawrence lowers his eyebrows a little at Misha next. "It is. As long as you don't keep playing with my poor heartstrings." His face is now pleading, but teasingly so. "Who wants to buy a heart, One broken lovers heart~." Maybe this wasn't his first drink. They both get some Elvis.

That has Fel giving Church a rather boggled look. He snorts. "Man. You are not allowed to be a maudlin drunk," he says, firmly. "But I'll buy you a round."

"But, just one," says Mariska, laying down the law and the limit for everyone's continued alcohol consumption for the night, it seems. At least, until they part ways. Or someone loses a bet.

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