[Sodium_noir] Hell is Other People

[Liz Oleksyn]

Sinclair Party
Aurora, Jack, Christine
Mage, Enigma, Mage

>Christine's wandering attention is arrested suddenly.

>"Say  . . . Aurora? You acquainted with any rich old
ladies?" Christine manages to look both intrigued and
puzzled. " 'Cos you're getting some attention."
Christine nods vaguely toward Aurora's right. "Check
it out." 

>At a little distance, there is indeed an old, old
lady
staring at Aurora with frank interest. She is leaning
on the arm of a very burly, dark uniformed man with
"chauffeur" written all over him.
Despite her antiquity and the strong suggestion of
frailty, the woman is superbly dressed - although
Christine suspects that on anyone else, the dress in
question would look like a Bedouin tent. A screamingly
gay Bedouin.  As Christine returns the stare (her own
wavering a little, due to certain focus issues) the
old lady smiles and tilts her chin in a small greeting
then turns slightly towards her escort who leans down,
listening deferentially. After a tiny pause, the
couple begin to move steadily toward Aurora, Jack and
Christine. 

>Close to, the old lady is delicate and fragile as a
Sevres figurine, her curls artfully sculpted and white
as porcelain. She has a soft, grandmotherly face
belied slightly by bright  lipstick and intense
mascara. Her smile as she gazes at Aurora, clearly the
main subject of her interest, is serene. Christine
stumbles slightly, clutching at Jack's hand to steady
her. She grips it so tightly that her nails dig
painfully into his palm. "No. Not now. Not here!" Only
Jack would hear Christine mutter this under her
breath.  She glances up at him, suddenly pale. "I need
to . . . some air . . .?" she says tensely. 

>The elderly socialite pays this minor byplay only
cursory interest. She leans toward Aurora, faintly
conspiratorial. Her perfume is sweet and a little
strange but oddly familiar. 

>"Please forgive me, my dear," she says, her accent
pure Mayflower descendant. "I couldn't help admiring
your gown. Gorgeous thing! It's Worth isn't it? And
vintage? It's far too lovely to be a modern copy. It
must 80 years old - almost as old as I am. But superb
>condition! A marvelous find!" 


Jack has no idea who the old lady is and picks up
nothing so unusual about her as to warrant the
startled reaction from Christine.  He is, however,
supremely surprised to find Christine’s nails digging
into the palm of his bandaged hand and into a wound
that, while mostly healed, is still very tender.

Sucking in air, eyes watering, he whispers to
Christine out of the corner of his mouth.  “Ah.. could
you...please... not...”  Jack then notices her
distress and request for a breath of air and nods
vigorously.  

Giving Aurora and the elderly matron an unsteady, but
polite nod of farewell, he leads Christine swiftly out
a nearby set of french doors and onto a covered
veranda.  The chill and damp came as welcome relief. 
Jack sways a bit, pointing to the hand Christine had
held in a painful death-like vise only moments before.
 “Not that one, darling.  We don’t want to let that
one bleed. Not yet.”

He leans against the wall, trying to determine just
how drunk he is and how much more drinking he’s
capable of before he loses consciousness.  It is, to
be sure, a very fine line.  His brow furrows as he
gives a sideways glance to Christine.

“Okay.  What was wrong with that old woman and why did
you freak out?”

(tag Christine!)


 
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