Walking down Fulton Street, Clary maneuvers past an avid bicycler, that recklessly took to the sidewalk. "Nice one, asshole." Aline yells at the retreating figure, and Clary laughs amicably. She takes Aline's hand to lead her away from another outburst. Despite the overcast, Clary appreciates the warmer weather, proving that Spring is well on the way. That's what lead to today's excursion; Aline mentioning that she wants to see what clothing shores were close by. "You have been living here for two weeks and you still haven't gotten used to the everyday adventures of walking around town." Clary muses, shaking her head gently, her ponytail waving.

Aline's lips pucker in thought, "Why do I have to get used to their ignorant behavior? They could all use a good lesson in respect. That's what this population is missing. They obviously respect themselves plenty, it's respect for others they are forgetting." Her rant continues, while Clary pushes the sleeves of her red sweater-shirt up her forearms, silently commenting, It's not an issue of respect, but the forgetfulness to enjoy each other's company. New York City is fast moving, it's easy to get lost in the pace. Granted there are wonderful times when people here can surprise you. Like flash mobs, the beauty shines in the fluid synchronized moves and unity. Additionally, there are clubs for a ridiculous number of interests. Even in the confusion, there is a small piece of NYC where you can find your niche.

They come to stand next to a music store, to watch the music video, that had changed both of their careers, on the window monitor. "Would you look at that. The video finally dropped down to number two on the countdown. What was it? Eleven weeks at number one?" Clary nods distractedly, her attention trained on the last man that had touched her intimately. She has been on many dates, but none of the equally deserving men could hold a candle to Jace Wayland.

The feeling of those hands had permanently burnt a place in her subconscious. There are enough memories of those hands, from their short time together, that would be taken out of storage to be used against her in her sleep. A small smile graces her lips as she remembers the taste of him on them, his tongue playfully swirling with hers. Clary gives herself a mental shake. Bad Clary, she scolds.

Pushing a wild strand of her curly, redyed red hair, behind her ear, she motions to Aline to continue walking. Aline gasps loudly, before squealing, and runs to the window of the boutique just ahead, like a little kid at Christmas. "Whoa," she breathes. Clary walks around a bench to see what took her friend's breath away. The royal blue sheer gown is floor length, lightweight, with a halter bustier. "That is my dress." She sighs.

Clearly missing some part of a previous conversation, Clary questions guiltily. "Where would you be going to need a dress like that?" Before she could answer, someone she thought she wouldn't see again, especially so soon walks out of the very same boutique. His famous golden eyes are masked by aviator glasses, his wavy hair framing his face carelessly, and moving in her direction.

"Clary?" His lips form around her name like a lost prayer had been answered. His slender fingers remove the frames slowly, as his lips curl upward, a full smile directed at her. Clary's breath catches in her throat. It's not that she wasn't interested him, just that she couldn't stand his stereotypical rock star behavior concerning women. The topping on the cake was that she still resented him for his careless words about her ability to perform before the shoot.

Regardless of her shock from his presence, her face is pleasant and polite, giving a small smile in return. His long legs quickly cover the space between them, and Clary volunteers a step back to resume control of the situation. He doesn't mind at all, his liquid gold eyes roaming her face like a man dying of thirst, and her being the last drop of water. Her own look over his chest peeking through his v-neck, and the thought of her fingernails running the length of his torso again makes her head swim.

Soon his features take on a scowl and his jaw clenches. "I called you. Why didn't you ever call me back?"

Before she could come back with a reasonable retort, a feminine voice breaks the thickness between them. "Jace?" His eyes widen fractionally, with a grimace forming at the corners of his mouth. Clary looks behind him to see a woman striding confidently toward them, wearing a short skirt, a low cut rose cotton shirt, and a gray layered scarf. The spike decorated heels alone were six inches, but she walked like she was born to wear them. Coming to stand next to Jace, she weaves a hand, one that wasn't covered in shopping bags, around his arm, and grins sweetly, but her eyes were firing a threat of dominance.

None of this is what made Clary's light green eyes widen and mouth set ajar. It's the fact that, with differences in the main features, she could have been looking in a mirror. Her hair is perfectly curled and crimson, eyes a deep jade, a heart shaped face, and not a speckle of blemishes. The silence is broken by Aline, standing next to her, thinking aloud as her chocolate eyes judge the woman opposing us. "Well, this is awkward."


Dun-duh-dun. Okay so this is short, but just the beginning. I haven't figured out just yet how long this will be. So this is their reunion, but I want them to keep meeting. One place would Taki's (obviously), there's a planned charity event, a photo shoot (still questioning), but other than that I'm blanking. Any ideas? Maybe somewhere you would like to go if you live or visit NYC.