I made wine from the lilac tree, put my heart in its recipe

[neverbreaks.livejournal.com]

Who: Jules and you
What: Booze! Feelings! Drowning sorrows is classy.
Where: A bar! You can pick what kind of bar if there's something in particular that'd be more ic for your dudes and ladies; Jules is familiarising herself with the city via the wonders of alcohol.
When: Givdi, Veerdi and Sukkadi (Thursday-Saturday) afternoons right through to the little hours. Just let me know~*~*~
Notes: :9 let us make cr and deliciousness! We can just go from any point of their drinking together, too - just do whatever tickles your fancy, really.
Warnings: Feelings, dark thoughts, etc. Possibly language. Possibly some violence, if a bar fight were to break out? Anything crops up, I'll edit it in.

It's been a long week. A long month, two months, however many hours and days and other little bunches of times have all clocked up to however long things have been utterly miserable for. And ever since she got here, Jules has been going on with her masks and her smiles, until this week things started to teeter and fall apart like a rusted-out engine.

She could work with car problems, though. This she didn't know how to work with, and she stares at the bottom of her glass as she swirls the deep red wine around it, accusing, as if it's meant to be telling her something and very thoroughly letting her down.

"I need another drink."

Comments

[neverbreaks.livejournal.com]

Quietly, yes, but not too quiet for a hybrid's hearing. She glances over her shoulder towards the alcohol-donor, quirks an eyebrow, and manages to offer something of a smile before briefly turning her attention back to the bartender to order her drink.

And, with that done, she makes the effort to relocate herself a little close to Don, dragging a cigarette out of a battered looking packet. "Thank you. Do you mind if I share your ashtray?"

It's been a long day, but it never hurts to talk to people. Right?

[selfmadman]

"You're welcome." With sudden nimbleness Don scoops up the ashtray, sets it midway between them. "I don't mind if you don't," he says. His voice is low without being hushed, his words swaying to a rhythm removed from the jazz drifting through the bar.

He plants his cigarette back in his mouth. "Light?" By the time he's asked the question he has a Zippo in hand.

[neverbreaks.livejournal.com]

"That would be brilliant, actually." See, this was already going brilliantly. Jules leans over, cigarette held between her lips, in the hopes that Don will light her cigarette for her. She is feeling many things today, and one of them is lazy.

"I don't think we've met. I'm a slightly new arrival." A little smirk of a smile, hand idly running through her hair. "Jules Grumley. And your very generous self is--?" Her tone rises with the question, eyebrow arched curiously. In her experience, generosity usually comes at the hands of those interested in seduction, with the genuinely generous a slightly hard commodity to come by, in her world, regardless of whether they know what she is, or not. Considering this place isn't that, however, and she has encountered some people who seem genuinely nice, she's willing to assume that this guy probably isn't after anything specific, and he's just generous.

[selfmadman]

It's done in one seamless motion--flame drawn from the lighter and touched to the end of her cigarette--that absorbs him completely. Then with a metallic snap the lighter closes and Don settles back, raising his eyes to meet hers. "I'm Don Draper."

He drags on his cigarette, expels smoke in a slow stream. "Slightly less new." There's an almost companionable ruefulness to his tone. "Looks like you're finding your way around okay."

[neverbreaks.livejournal.com]

No matter how grim she might be feeling, the smile she flashes is bright - genuine. "Thank you very much, Don Draper." So far as first impressions go, he's certainly gaining points fast.

"I've made an excellent study of some of the city's establishments. This one is rather nicer than a few of the others I managed to wander into." Leaning back, she shakes her head a little, fingers running through her hair as she thinks. "Though really, I'm a bit inclined to think that we'll always feel a bit new, here. It's one thing to move to another city or country, but an entire different world?" No, she's not sure she can get used to that, but her tone is relaxed enough. "At least we're making the most of it."

By drinking. And smoking. Oh, dear.

[selfmadman]

“Don,” he says, quietly insistent, smiling as she repeats his name with scrupulous formality. He reaches for his glass, his grip relaxed. Careless. His orange-tinged drink sways to one side, close to slopping over the lip. He takes a long swallow; a momentary stillness overcomes him.

“Really.” He looks at her, a measured glance. Bemusement lurks at the edges of his expression, in the slight arch of his brows. He taps ash into the tray. “Sure about that?”