lush ✘ and if the man can't dance he gets no second chance

[heyeresque]

Bellamy is not sure at what point the night began to slide sideways out of his control, but he's confident that when he reassesses in the cold, sober light of day it'll absolutely not be his fault.

Case in point, he leans against the front door of his Chelsea flat and pats himself down with one hand for his keys...which aren't there, meaning they're still in the inner pocket of Nic's jacket. Nic, who was meant to be the designated driver this evening and instead is the reason that he had to call Hasi from a hotel in London and request a rescue; Cypra would either be busy or laugh too hard, he explained. Nic, who decided to go ambling off with other friends after Bellamy turned in and will be all the more difficult to get a hold of until probably late tomorrow afternoon.

"Hasi," he says, admirably clearly for his inebriation, "I have a small problem."

Comments

[heyeresque]

"Much less like the bottom of an ashtray, thank you." He stops behind the sofa, his focus (apparently) on correctly buttoning his shirt, the cuffs hanging loose; the cufflinks are in the pocket of his jacket, folded on the end of said sofa. (Drunk last night, yes, but still somehow a little bit fastidious in places.)

[norea]

To any onlooker just stumbling in on this, she thinks, wryly, it would appear as if sleep was about the last thing that transpired between them. Hasibe regards him for a moment, and then pulls herself up to kneel on the couch cushions, leaning over the back (her posture gamine, legs tucked beneath herself, her chemise's left strap sliding over the corresponding shoulder) so that she can reach out to toy with one of those loose-hanging shirtcuffs once he's got the buttons done up.

"Oh, good."

[heyeresque]

Bellamy presents her with his wrists, obligingly, since she finds shirtcuffs so interesting. It's odd here today (it's not really morning any more), with this unwarranted intimacy; they're not quite friends, and not really anything else, and he's so absurdly pale the veins in his wrists are stark where the cuffs fall away from them. "I'll have to call Nic for my keys."

[norea]

"You will," she agrees, and idly traces one fingertip (the faint, faint graze of her nails included- she did this to him at dinner out, too, but he didn't react, really) over said veins or ... just above, actually, but it's still a pretty sensitive area, "at least you know my address."

[heyeresque]

"I'll have to swear him to secrecy, my mother hears wedding bells if I breathe in the presence of an unattached woman," he says wryly, watching the progress of her nail and then glancing at her, too steady to be rightly unaffected. "Could you pass me my jacket? I should put my cufflinks back in, I feel more half-naked like this than I did before."

(He doesn't, actually, and if he did he wouldn't care. That said, he's probably serious about Nic and his mother.)

[norea]

"He can save it as blackmail material, and- sure," Hasibe says, amiably, and her method of acquiring said jacket involves crawling forward on her hands and knees, because why actually get up and get things like a sane person if you're in an overpriced red nightie?

Partly she's wondering how long she can do this before he, like, flees her or something. She offers up the jacket afterward, sliding her free hand through her hair.

[heyeresque]

"What a thought." What is that supposed to mean, Bellamy- nothing at all, surely, he rifles through his pockets to find the cufflinks he was wearing last night (plain platinum) and fasten them in neatly, shrugging his shirt into some semblance of order and tucking himself in. It's a little overdressed for sitting around her apartment in the afternoon while she's wearing that, granted, but he's barefoot and hasn't fixed his hair, so maybe not irredeemably polished.

[norea]

Hasi steals the jacket from him once he has the cufflinks, and shrugs it over her shoulders, because this is how she rolls. She adjusts its fit on her (he's broad-shouldered and she's incredibly willowy, tallness aside, so it definitely hangs) and gives him a very serious look.

"So I'm decent, too. I don't want to end up flashing you."

[heyeresque]

The pause here is remarkably reminiscent of one earlier, in the kitchen, only he wasn't the one ruffled at the time. It's fleeting and it's well-veiled, but oblivious the man is not. "I commend your consideration for my sensibilities."

[norea]

Unlike Bellamy before, when their roles were reversed, she's not disappearing off to the shower immediately after, either. She stands up on the sofa cushions, which leaves her a ways above him, presenting herself, tucking her hair behind her ear. She leans forward just slightly, knees pressing against the sofa back for balance.

"How does your clothes look on me?" Her phrasing is deliberate, but she makes it sound casual.

[heyeresque]

Well, since she asks- Bellamy takes a moment to scrutinize the image she presents, his head tilted slightly and his eyes traveling as invited. "Better than it ever did on me," he concludes, smiling, "you should keep it."

(He's not kidding.)

[norea]

She lifts one knee (still pressed against the sofa back) just enough so she can lean forward and maintain that balance, but she rests her hands on his shoulders. He's surprised her, but Hasibe doesn't mind that- even if she's not quite sure what's going through his mind.

Besides that quick little moment.

"Really?"

[heyeresque]

"Sure," he affirms, taking advantage of her closeness to transfer the contents of the jacket pockets to the ones in his trousers (his ability to do this barely touching her is not unremarkable), "it suits you. I've got other ones."

[norea]

"Okay," she says, simply at first, and she's patiently still like an artist's model while he takes things out of his pockets, but when he stops she slides down a little ways, hands remaining on his shoulders, where her nails - painted shimmering white - are bright against the material of Bellamy's shirt.

"I can wear it like one of my robes," she speculates, playful, "but probably with nothing underneath it." That was unnecessary, but she wanted to put the visual into his head, pretty much. Hasibe kisses his cheek (again, and with that same honey-soft grace, and this time there's no quick exit by leaving the car or saying goodbye). "Thanks, Mr. Chivalry."

[heyeresque]

Goodbyes, Bellamy is beginning to suspect, will not do him much good here. He's not sure what will, except that he's probably not going to figure it out anywhere near like in time. As Dorothy Parker has said, there is no cure for curiosity- and he's always had an excess.

"Whatever makes you happy," he says, with a little laugh that's as much at himself as what she says.

[norea]

"Oh, well, in that case..." She sits on the back of the sofa, hand still on his shoulder. "I'm a difficult girl to satisfy. What if I want to wear your shirt, too?"

(She wonders if he remembers what she said last night- about his not being able to handle her.)

[heyeresque]

"Then you should've asked before I put my cufflinks in," he decides, arbitrarily, "and be happy with what you have for now."

[norea]

"Bossy," she tsks, tossing her hair- it falls, this time, in such a way that it brushes his skin for a second, and presumably she's not talented enough at this to be able to control the movement of her hair, but still.

"That's okay, though, I like men who take charge." One gets the impression she's not strictly talking about clothing. She should probably stop that.

[heyeresque]

"I guess you're feeling charitable today, then." Yes, he remembers what she said last night.

[norea]

"Some men don't do it unless they're provoked," Hasi says, studying him sidelong, "I'm sure I don't know why that is. But like I told you before, I like to see what people's true colors are. And sometimes it has the added benefit of being fun."

[heyeresque]

"As long as someone's entertained," he says, shaking his head with that vague, rueful amusement that might mean any of a number of things he's keeping to himself.

[norea]

"Oh, I can always find some reason to be in a good mood, Bellamy." Zabibe minces up onto a nearby table to spy on them, though she doesn't come much closer. Hasi, meanwhile, reaches out to smooth down the collar of Bellamy's shirt, because she's still playing chicken with his libido vs his self-restraint.

[heyeresque]

Usually when Bellamy plays with fire, he's the one holding the matches and the gasoline; it's a disconcerting variation on what he knows and he hasn't decided if he likes it or not, yet. It's telling how much of the glances he gives her when she does this are more assessing than anything else, though he probably wouldn't like that, either. "We have that in common."

[norea]

Hasibe doesn't think he's that often challenged on his demeanor, and certainly not in her...manner of going about it. His reactions, as subtle as they are, are interesting, but she wants more and stronger until the snap occurs- maybe not today, but inevitably.

Fire metaphors are apt for this girl in a multitude of ways.

"You could stay a while, you know," she tells him, soft-voiced, smiling mildly, "if you're into old movies."

[heyeresque]

People close to him either learn to speak his language - insofar as it's possible - or tolerate his idiosyncrasies, and people who aren't close to him tend to get fewer opportunities to bother. In all honesty, Bellamy is unaccustomed to being pried at; he doesn't think he cares for it, but if he hated it so much...he can always leave. He doesn't have to keep seeing her.

"What sort of old movies?"