Tristin DuGrey had no idea how he had ended up in the Hartford Country Club; it was the last place he thought he would be on a Friday night. While getting a cup of coffee he had been cornered by a company bigwig and, having explained his intent of burning the midnight oil, thought had had escaped unscathed. Even though Tristin didn't see how being manipulated into attending a company social function translated into unscathed, he was glad to not be sitting in front of a computer screen.
Rory had barely been living in her grandparent's pool house a month and Emily was ecstatic to have someone else's social calendar to fill. She was uncomfortable with how many of these suedo soirees her grandparents had her attend; it made her uneasy to be shown off to all these people, especially now that she wasn't currently enrolled at Yale, or as they put it, "taking a sabbatical'.
Though he had forgone vacationing in the islands (he wouldn't specify which ones) Logan wasn't at her side this particular summer night. Something to do with the Huntzberger clan – which Logan had refused to take her to, sighting their last encounter with his family as fair warning concerning its likely outcome – had taken him from his usual post.
So far the evening had been tedious at best. The guests tonight consisted, for the most part, of her grandfather's business associates and rivals. Everyone was on their best behavior, surprisingly able to avoid shoptalk, but Rory was sure that would change. Arrivals were infrequent for the first time since seven (the acceptable time for and eight o'clock dinner party she had been curtly informed the only time she had dared as Emily a question about how things should occur – now she asked Logan) and she was finally able to escape making the necessary establishment of her position within this particular get-together. Accepted immediately for being the granddaughter in a particularly significant social family it took a lesser amount of time at each event, she was thus provided with closer access to the bar. As the amber liquid hit the back of her throat it burned. Rory sighed and signaled to be brought another, it always helped to have a drink in you hand when doing the requisite personal rounds.
By the smell of it the glass had held scotch; typically a man's drink of choice, but the rim didn't support this supposition. The person in question had chosen red tonight, classic and indistinguishable amongst tonight's crowd. The generation gap breached by a simple preference in lip color. For a lady to be accepted into the Harford Country Club society set she had to be demure, not bold, prim and proper, not brazen and unfitting. This woman had them all effectively taken in by the persona she obviously wanted to portray; the glass in his hand would have been devastating to that guise which clarified its being so carelessly set aside. Someone must have arrived suddenly and waylaid her escape to the terrace. Glancing around him, he unassumingly took not of the people in his vicinity of which none struck him as the dissident he was looking for.
It tinkled like a wind chime as it hit the air around her, an effect she was used to happening in surroundings of this type. A seemingly genuine laugh was almost unheard of; chuckles, like the ones her companions were aiming toward her, were commonplace in comparison. A young person's mere presence and expressions of amusement had definitely become more customary amongst occupants of the Hartford Country Club, it helped that this one had a very unique sense of humor.
Flutes, wineglasses, and tumblers clinked together as the club's employees turned over the empty glasses on their trays for filled orders for the guests out on the floor. This was the last place someone would expect to find any respectable young man who had been brought up to not associate with the help. Technically, Tristin wasn't going against his upbringing, he was simply navigating his way behind the long succession of temporary bars that had been set up for the event. Besides, anyone who was a long standing acquaintance knew he had been far from upstanding at one time. They effectively concealed his disappearance out onto the terrace of the Club; the few times that Tristin had attended functions there, the terrace held the only reprieve from the night's boring chitchat. Apparently he hadn't been the only one to discover this piece of information. After securing the door behind him, he noticed the spiral of smoke being carried to him on the wind. The person smoking was somewhere on his left behind the lush ivy growing on the building's wall, his interest piqued Tristin started toward its source. He hadn't taken two steps when he heard a door open further along that direction. The first voice that spoke was trained, "You McKellan neat." The second, female voice, replied, "Thank you." He had found the nonconformist from earlier.
Tapping the cigarette she held between her fingers Rory watched carelessly as ash flitted to the ground beside her Smooth Jimmy Choos. Idly she wondered which of the vices in her hands was more ruinous but realized that she didn't care, it wasn't like the answer would stop her from substance use; without them Rory knew she wouldn't have made it through any of these events. The air around her was beginning to chill and Rory knew she would soon have to return to the noise of the throng within, she could already feel the impending headache.
Coming slowly around the flourishing plant Tristin was surprised when the woman didn't show any sign of noticing his appearance in front of her. He watched in semi-fascination at her next action. Heaving a deep sigh she raised her drink to her lips and put it away, she then lifted her cigarette, placed it between her ruby lips and took a long drag. As she released the polluted breath it came billowing toward him, and Tristin couldn't repress his reflex. The porcelain skinned brunette heard his slight cough as she exhaled; she slowly pushed herself off the wall in response, after dropping the cigarette she carefully used the toe of her silver shoe to snuff it out. With her standing straight Tristin was suddenly able to see the dress she was wearing; its square neckline was modest and it had one of those bell skirts that successfully accentuated her waist. He heard her clear her throat and instantly knew he had been caught staring. Looking up at her uneasily he was impressed with the detachment held in her sapphire gaze; it had taken him years to acquire that look into his repertoire, he wonder how long it had taken her.
After having her solitude interrupted Rory felt obliged to put out her cigarette as a courtesy to the man ogling her. Though gratifying, Rory was only comfortable with one man seeing her and getting that look in his eye as a result. She felt the need to stop him before he got ahead of himself. When he rose his head Rory made certain her disinterest was on display, she was caught unawares at his impressed look but didn't let it faze her. She wasn't at all interested in finding someone at these things that she could stand; she didn't want her loathing of them lessening. Rory didn't say anything, just turned around and preceded into the lion's den. She went on to sip champagne sedately while not paying true attention to those who had captured her upon her return. As the predicted headache descended upon her Rory excused herself, by the time she reached her grandmother it was residing in the forefront of her mind and all she needed was to sleep it off.
Tristin noted the radical's absence as they sat down to dinner; the only empty place was at the table playing host to some of the most influential men in the business and their wives. He supposed she must be some high-end client or other to have secured such a prominent seat because he couldn't for the life of him come up with a reason why anyone of their generation would voluntarily spend their evening in such company, even if they were a socialite. Reminded of how he had been conned into coming, Tristin resolved to take work home from now on.
Smooth Jimmy Choos: – Classic Shoes, second row from the top on the right
Dress: COMING SOON (stupid dial-up)