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-- Constance’s Dress–

Mr. Nolan K.K Martin was worshiped by the media as a “legendary storyteller”, having written a decent number of successful indie films since the late 2000s that earned him a taste of fame he wasn’t willing to give up. He made it big with his first ever high production film, The Maidenless, which was released near the tailend of 2021 and mesmerized audiences with a deep dive into a horrific fantasy realm following a shield-maiden known as a Tarnished. People couldn’t stop talking about it, and became so obsessed that most were certain Nolan would win the Oscar for Best Motion Picture this coming March.

“He’s taken everything from me!”

No one knew the real mastermind behind Nolan’s storytelling was his wife, Scarlett. So timid; far too shy for the limelight. She’d written a plethora of fiction horrors before Nolan took her tales to the big screen using their married name as an alias to protect her. Unfortunately the cost of her brilliant mind was the inability to speak up when her husband took all the credit for her work. Perhaps a betrayal she could have lived with if he hadn’t begun sleeping with his lead actress.

Constance Lavore lounged alone at a table in the Starlight Club. With a glass of wine nursed in her grip, dark eyes trailed the pair swaying to an intimate jazz number on the dancefloor. It wasn’t her place to judge the reasoning behind a contract, but she had to admit she possessed a great deal of satisfaction getting to kill Scarlett’s husband for her. Should he continue to parade around as he was, Constance could foresee him attempting to divorce his wife and giving it all to a pretty dripping cunt he’ll likely cheat on in another decade. Perhaps less… the girl was a fucking bimbo.

Though an assassin’s convenience was that the story wrote itself. Young, impressionable actress with an ambition to seduce a world renowned screenwriter. Why, it would launch her entire career! This film already repaired her reputation with addiction, audiences so enamored with her performance as the Shield-Maiden that they could forget what a messy human being she was. The media was already questioning the relationship between them. A promotion for the upcoming award or something more scandalous?

A smirk settled on Constance’s ruby lips as she drank the remnants of her wine. She rose from her seat and made a show of sweeping a hand over the hip of her onyx dress, ensuring the high slits cascaded properly around her legs. Her golden heels clicked softly as she slipped through the crowd. A bubble of conversation filtered through her ears, ignored for the smooth piano melody and the sensual confessions of the saxophone it complimented.

Her gaze fell upon a lone patron watching the swell of other dancers. A lovely face, at the very least lovely enough for her to step into the space beside them with her manicured hand extended. Her voice, laced with a hard to place accent, left her lips low and warm.

“Care to dance with me?”

Nocturne wasn't anywhere near being called a regular at the Starlight Club. Not even a semi-regular where the staff could still place his face or a preferred order if he was lucky. He just found himself wandering into it sporadically--perhaps once every few months or so-- when the mood for what it offered struck. It had more of a mellow vibe, one where he could sit and enjoy a drink to decent music yet it still offered the right atmosphere for some dancing that didn't really fit in with the 'hip' clubs playing Top 40 and remixes.

That mellow vibe was needed that night as his sister was home and grumpy because she forgot she had an assignment due at the end of the week. She was attempting to cram in working on it in between dance classes, her other homework, and sleep so her social life was suffering and he was hearing all about it with a lot of sass tacked on. He had debated going into the studio and working out some of his frustration over raising a teenage girl with a budding attitude but that was still too close to the epicentre. Lyric was old enough to be left alone and he did trust her to behave so Nocturne dressed to go out and said he'd be back when he was back before taking the Jeep. He almost took his bike but it was still a tad too cool to enjoy his first ride of the year which added to his mood.

He'd been there a couple of hours, mostly sitting at the bar alone but sometimes casually chatting with anyone that came too close. Some of the staff would humour him when they weren't busy but he really hadn't been looking for companionship. He just wanted to get out of the house and enjoy the atmosphere of Starlight while he sipped a bourbon because he was in the mood to pretend he was a classy fuck that night. He had even put on a suit jacket that was black, like his pants and shirt, but covered in large floral patterns of deep pink, teal, and gold. His pops had long since given up on getting him to wear a 'normal' suit and tie and accepted his oddities.

His gaze regularly travelled across the room, sometimes lingering on couples dancing but still not finding the desire to find a partner and join them. He supposed he was a voyeur that night, something that made him smile into his glass as he thought about a past conversation with Skittles.

That was until he spotted a beautiful woman in one hell of a dress heading his way. He had caught glimpses of her for a while but hadn’t made up his mind if he wanted to approach her. He had the confidence for it but did he have the energy for it that night? He was about to find out as he was her intended target and it wasn’t just his ego assuming he would be when ordering a drink was a perfectly viable explanation. He took in her appearance with each step closer she took, captivated by the sensual sway of her body that dress hid and revealed so perfectly.

Nocturne wasn’t one to play coy or be a dick for no reason (he liked having reasons) so he didn’t pretend to ignore and act like he didn’t hear in order to make her beg for his attention. He also didn’t feel like being an arrogant bastard with a clever reply about how he knew she would come to him and that it made sense for such attractive people to connect. He didn’t know her well enough to make such comments nor was she a vampire he was purposely baiting because he had a death wish that night.

Instead, he tossed back the small amount of bourbon that remained in his glass and set it back down on the bar he turned his back to. “I’d be a fool to do anything other than take your hand,” so he did. Nocturne led her out to the floor, keeping one hand in hers and placing the other on her waist. He didn’t consider himself a dancer like his sister but he had taken some classes in the past and had a handle on the basics for ballroom styles and let memory take over for what the best hold would be to suit the music.

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ooc: Nocturne's outfit

It was simply impolite for a lady to confirm a man’s demeaning assumption, but that sparkle in her eye was hardly due to the crystal chandeliers above. She was quite amused. Though his acceptance only managed to create a faint lift on her ruby mouth.

Constance allowed herself to be led. It gave her the opportunity to quickly cast her gaze over the dancefloor and locate her target for the evening. Both Nolan and – oh, what was that silly girl’s name? Ah…– Penelope (Gods, no wonder she couldn’t remember the damn thing) were still modestly infatuated with one another. With that in mind, Constance gently tugged on her partner’s hand to request his attention and affectively kept him from wandering into the couple’s shadow.

He’d turn to find her quietly observing him, the amusement earlier displayed on her visage hardly moving a fraction even as he drew her in close to him. Though immediately the warmth of his touch seeped through the lace of her bodice, and her body sang in delight to be held again. Not that it’d been so long, of course, but hers was an existence scarcely able to satisfy all the cravings without taking great care.

This particular specimen was quite handsome, she wouldn’t deny him that, and he smelled deliciously spontaneous. Her gaze shamelessly dropped to his mouth while they fell into step with ease. “Well, well,” Her hand was featherlight upon his shoulder, index finger tapping to make note of his exquisite suit jacket. “I was worried you were only playing dress-up.”

He wasn’t the best dancer she’d found herself in the arms of, but then she doubted a great number of others were as rigorously trained in social obligations as she’d been over the centuries. Constance might even be kind enough to say he was better than she’d hoped for when choosing him to help her blend in. The attention they attracted was little more than envy and awe, easily forgotten for a pretty dress or a bit of gossip and a drink.

Amusement lit up her beautiful face as she spun away and returned back into his arms. The Blues was an intimate dance. She often compared it to Bachata, but it was just a bit faster. A grace when Constance reluctantly considered she could not simply devour the poor boy in this setting. Though she could linger in all the right places, stepping close enough that his knee often guided the sway of her hips.

“I do love to be proven wrong…”

"I have a feeling you aren't wrong that often," Nocturne replied with a slight grin tugging at the left corner of his mouth. In fact, he was already betting this woman did not actually love to be proven wrong. She seemed to be very in control of the situation and was even humouring him by letting him lead the dance. It was easy to tell she was the better and more experienced dancer but the fact that he knew even the basics seemed to please the woman and made him feel like he had passed a test.

To help keep his passing mark, Nocturne put a bit more thought into remembering what he had been taught several years ago since it seemed his partner was well-versed on such a floor. Normally he would wing it, and likely still would, but a little effort wouldn't hurt him either. Then again, the way they were pressed close together made it difficult to want to do much else than continue the way bodies moved together.

Given how much extra attitude his sister was giving him lately, Nocturne could easily hear her in his head, calling him a slut for his thoughts about the woman in his arm and how he bounced from lover to lover. Not that Lyric knew much of his dating life and since he wasn't doing any serious relationships at the moment, he didn't see any issues about where his thoughts were trying to lead him. Still, Nocturne focused on the moves he did know, deciding to be a proper dance partner after all.

As he wasn't one to care what others said or thought about him, Nocturne hardly noticed any whispered gossip about the sight they made together but he was cautious enough that his gaze did dart around the room from time to time. He had needed to get out of the house but he was still known by a master vampire and a pack leader--two people he really should have known better than to get within range of. It was hard to know who was a spy of theirs and perhaps the ones glancing their way were the ones he should be careful of. But for the moment, Nocturne felt like he was safe while dancing and would only have to worry upon leaving the club and entering a more open and quieter area.

As the song came to a close, Nocturne spun his partner around, leaving her back pressed to his front and his arm around her waist so he could whisper against her ear, "can I entice you into another dance?"