[size=20]A[/size]sher was not a man of nervous energy. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that he allowed himself complete and utter release at least once a month - or maybe he never took anything to do with a woman too seriously. Tonight was no different, though even he would have to admit that there did seem to be the beginnings of seriousness to the encounters he and Percy had been having. At least, he thought there were. This was no teen romance and, though things were going relatively slow, he put that down to the fact that they were both accomplished adults with more to do than titter over each other, smitten.
In the beginning, Asher's ties to the tea shop owner were no more than flattery, ego stroking, and a potential tie to the town that would make him seem more approachable - a sweet woman at his side would add to the cover for his machiavellian nightlife. Now? He wasn't so sure that his intentions matched his feelings, but the alpha preferred not to think about all that. It was better if he just let himself go with whatever flow he'd found - that would make his objective seem more pure, and his feelings more real. Suffice to say that he had never been in a position where he'd even considered real feelings for another person before - but he'd prefer not to think about that, either. An existential and romantic mess, for sure.
But tonight was not for messes - not the cerebral, intimate sort, anyway. It was for suits and dresses, masks and drinks. For putting on a face - literally - and enjoying the festivities, all the while networking and jostling for position on the social ladder. It was a game Asher enjoyed playing even when he cared little for the result; the height of a rung on that ladder hardly mattered when one thought himself to have already reached the top. But watching those beneath him squirm was one of life's joys, and he oh-so loved to calculate and execute what would best set them in their place. But alas, with Persephone by his side tonight? Well, she was just as much a handicap as she was a head start for his purposes. Perhaps she would see through him, see him for what he was, and terminate everything that had been so excitably brewing for the two of them - or perhaps she'd serve as a benefit, be the little trophy on his arm that allowed him the facade he had been piecing together since his arrival in Greenbrooke. It was all part of a challenge that could come crashing down all around him, and that only made it more enticing.
Alternatively, they might forget the night entirely, absorbed by one another, and Asher might actually enter into the first long term relationship he'd ever had. It seemed an outlier in the realms of possibility, but certainly, the thought had occurred to him. It filled his mind almost all-encompassingly, in fact, as he arrived at her residence, clad in a modern-cut suit and tie, slate grey with accents of forest green - as promised - and a bronzed mask whose iconography leaned heavily on Greek warriors and myths.
Asher was not the sort of man who might wait out in a car and send a text. He was far too traditional - and old - for that sort of a lack of etiquette. Instead, leaving a chauffeured limousine in the street, he broached whatever entryway or porch she had and, refraining from snooping too much, raised a meaty fist and rapped his knuckles deftly upon her front door.
In the beginning, Asher's ties to the tea shop owner were no more than flattery, ego stroking, and a potential tie to the town that would make him seem more approachable - a sweet woman at his side would add to the cover for his machiavellian nightlife. Now? He wasn't so sure that his intentions matched his feelings, but the alpha preferred not to think about all that. It was better if he just let himself go with whatever flow he'd found - that would make his objective seem more pure, and his feelings more real. Suffice to say that he had never been in a position where he'd even considered real feelings for another person before - but he'd prefer not to think about that, either. An existential and romantic mess, for sure.
But tonight was not for messes - not the cerebral, intimate sort, anyway. It was for suits and dresses, masks and drinks. For putting on a face - literally - and enjoying the festivities, all the while networking and jostling for position on the social ladder. It was a game Asher enjoyed playing even when he cared little for the result; the height of a rung on that ladder hardly mattered when one thought himself to have already reached the top. But watching those beneath him squirm was one of life's joys, and he oh-so loved to calculate and execute what would best set them in their place. But alas, with Persephone by his side tonight? Well, she was just as much a handicap as she was a head start for his purposes. Perhaps she would see through him, see him for what he was, and terminate everything that had been so excitably brewing for the two of them - or perhaps she'd serve as a benefit, be the little trophy on his arm that allowed him the facade he had been piecing together since his arrival in Greenbrooke. It was all part of a challenge that could come crashing down all around him, and that only made it more enticing.
Alternatively, they might forget the night entirely, absorbed by one another, and Asher might actually enter into the first long term relationship he'd ever had. It seemed an outlier in the realms of possibility, but certainly, the thought had occurred to him. It filled his mind almost all-encompassingly, in fact, as he arrived at her residence, clad in a modern-cut suit and tie, slate grey with accents of forest green - as promised - and a bronzed mask whose iconography leaned heavily on Greek warriors and myths.
Asher was not the sort of man who might wait out in a car and send a text. He was far too traditional - and old - for that sort of a lack of etiquette. Instead, leaving a chauffeured limousine in the street, he broached whatever entryway or porch she had and, refraining from snooping too much, raised a meaty fist and rapped his knuckles deftly upon her front door.
