Crash Course {Cyrus}

[KAIA MAY GREENE]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width:450; height:350; background-color:fbf9c1; border-left:1px solid #fae969; border-right:1px solid #fae969; border-top:1px solid #fae969; border-bottom:1px solid #fae969] [style=width:400px; height:200px; overflow: auto; background-color: ffffff; opacity: .8] Her feet hurt. She had looked fuckin’ kick ass in her shoes, hot gold snakeskin things that they were, but Kaia was paying for it now. They were new, which was the problem. She should’ve known better, broken them in first, but she’d been in a hurry, and they were so damn cute. So now, there she perched on the bar stool, keeping completely off aching feet, nursing a drink. The immortal could’ve had one at the club she’d just been spinning tracks for, but that really didn’t feel like getting off work. Sure, get done with what you’re doing, and then stay there. Yeah. That was just what she wanted to do. Nope. She’d broken down her equipment, packed up her car, and headed out. Don’t get her wrong, she actually did like the clubs she worked at, and on nights when she didn’t work, she was more than happy to kill time there, dance and drink and have a fabulous time, all the while keeping herself distanced, of course. Couldn’t get into maintaining relationships with people, but she could spend some hours in a tiny bubble of denial. Right then, she wasn’t in denial. She was in… a Kahlua cream soda. It was frickin’ delicious, so don’t make that face. It was the proper balance of girly and strong to make her happy. The music was some pitiful background noise, which she probably needed after the hours of spine-shaking bass she’d happily pranced along to since…ten o’clock that evening. Yeah, she needed the break, the lull, the wind-down from work. She loved her job, really, with every fiber of her being, but like any career, anything you worked at, you had to decompress a bit, afterwards. Her method this evening, rather than a bubble bath and some narcotic blend of soothing jazz and Latin instrumentals, was a good drink and no pressure. The other occupants of the bar were doing their own thing while the blonde hummed to herself from the corner of the tall counter- a good vantage point, allowing her to see all the entrances and exits and the hallway to the bathroom- people watching, sipping her soda and staying off her tender tootsies. And who should show up, in the midst of her decompression, than a man who made her body react and stand at attention, tense and interested. She’d only met him for a second- him and his brother- at the music shop, and something about his suave, sexy demeanor had captured her awareness. But now, she made sure to look calm and collected, and maybe even a little disinterested. It just wouldn’t do for people to notice her more than once, really. Kaia could keep herself aloof, fly under the radar, right? A quick glance down at her attire made that seem a bit less than likely, but perhaps Cyrus- yeah, she remembered his name- wouldn’t be so observant, or he was meeting somebody else- maybe the cuteish brunette by the window- or… something to keep him away from her, and keep temptation away from her. Temptation to talk to him, to flirt a little, to put her raging caution on a back burner because he was just so damn- naw, man, that’s enough of that. The immortal glanced down at the top of the bar again, ever-watchful from beneath her thick lashes, but carefully composed to draw as little attention as some as eye-catching as herself could. It remained to be seen whether or not it would work… clicketh for clothes!

[CYRUS LENNOX REID]

Tomorrow, he would be in Brazil. Sunny, warm, tropical Brazil, courtesy of his dear friend Deidre, who took painstakingly good care of him and always helped him find more work. It wasn't really difficult for him to find work, since anyone who ran within the proper circles would know that he was one of the best – and sometimes, the only – person to call upon for certain jobs. Cyrus had been pickpocketing, stealing, smuggling, and doing other criminal activities since he was a boy in Rome while his father tried to make an honest living by training Gladiators to fight in his Ludus so they would have enough coin to keep a family of three afloat. Even though his father did make money from men in bondage, which some would not consider an honest living at all, it was a position of pride, where stealing loaves of bread or jewelry from those who had more than enough just for sport and to see if he could (and the money he got in trade wasn't bad, either) would have been seriously frowned upon. His brother Dorian had always had a love/hate relationship with some of his skills, even though his lockpicking skills had gotten his twin in to where the men trained so he could learn fighting skills without their father being any the wiser. Apparently, having a son who wanted to fight and possibly die in the Gladiatorial arena wasn't honorable, either.

He had a rich life and many memories, and Cyrus knew that he had eternity to make more, and while he was excited at the prospect of getting to be someone else – a Mr. Charles Avery from London who dealt in smuggling illegal medical supplies via the Black Market – for three weeks, he never really could escape his memories. Rome. Mae. The Holocaust. So many ups and downs, horrors and moments of pride and success. Heists that had gone beautifully, even when he thought that he was sure to fail, and 'sure things' that ended up nearly costing him his life. These were all etched into his mind forever, and while he rarely ever found that he genuinely needed the escape, Cyrus wanted his mind to be a little more clear before he took his jet to Sao Paulo.

Dorian had offered to accompany him to the bar for a drink that evening, and Cyrus had politely declined. The hybrid made his way over to the bar and took a seat, then ordered a Manhattan for himself and opened up a tab on one of his many credit cards, all of which were... mostly legal. Such was his life: mostly legal. After he got his drink, he surveyed the bar, because even though he might have wanted time to decompress and clear his head, he didn't necessarily want to be alone. Cyrus wasn't the kind of man who took women home, but he did enjoy their company, and found that he was hopeful to find a special lady that evening. No sooner did the thought pass his mind did his eyes fall on a woman who had... well, tantalized him from the very first time they 'met.' It hadn't really been a formal introduction; she had met Dorian in the music store, and they were on their way to lunch, but Kaia had been on his mind since that day. Her eyes that didn't quite meet his when they spoke. Her eyes that seemed to flit around, as if she didn't want to be remembered. As if she was trying to hide from something. Little did she know that she was a complete knockout, and beyond memorable.

So he stood, walked over to where she was sitting, and didn't invite himself to sit next to her, but made sure that he was close enough to be tempting. Her aura colors flickered, and he caught the small modicum of desire that she couldn't mask, not completely, and grinned. ”Kaia, wasn't it?” As if he would forget her name. ”It seems that we're destined to keep running into one another at random intervals. You look lovely this evening, by the way. Excellent choice of footwear.” Then, he winked, and gestured to the seat next to her. ”May I join you?”

The life of a thief was never without risk, and for her, he was more than happy to be daring.

OUTFIT:

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