i don't believe in anything but myself [ruari]

Two days. Two fucking days and he still had thoughts of that Bloom girl in her red dress plaguing him.

Torr had attended a party on a whim on Saturday and had an unexpectedly good time with a girl who had a great pair of legs, a smart mouth, and lips he hadn't gotten a taste of yet but wanted to. She had played the typical posh, little snob and he had played the devilish rogue, but when she led him up the stairs, Torr had been pretty sure it was going to end just like it had with every other rich debutante who wanted to play the part: legs spread, on the bed. That hadn't gone to plan either and Torr had found himself alone at the top of the stairs, without the girl, without her name, and without a clue as to where she'd gone.

It had surprised him how much she had been on his mind lately. He kept remembering the way
his skin felt under his hand, the way she had gasped and whimpered when he had squeezed her fingers, the flash of her eyes and that mouth on her. Damn that mouth. She was fiesty and witty and insulted him far more than he was used to, but he smiled darkly as he remembered. Torr wanted to control that mouth. In more ways than one.

The Regan found himself outside of his cousin Ruari's shop and while he hadn't consciously wanted to come here, he knew why he had. Torr had a brief, fleeting thought that Ruari would probably know this girl, seeing as how his cousin made garments for all the rich families. He wouldn't even be surprised if she had designed that little red number his girl had worn the other night and for that, Ruari deserved all the praise.

A bell over the door tinkled, announcing his presence, as Torr stepped into the shop. Dressed in his usual dark jeans, leather jacket, and boots, Torr glanced around the room before spying his cousin with a customer, discussing two different fabrics. They looked to be in the middle of something, but Torr wasn't exactly a patient man and he wasn't going to stand around politely and wait. Wasn't exactly his style. He strode over to the pair and hovered closely. He could see the young witch eyeing him in the mirror with discomfort and questions in her eyes.

"I would go with the blue. Red just doesn't seem like your color..." Torr said casually as he crossed his arms in front of him and cocked his head to the side. "Unless you were going for the harlot look?" Then he glanced Ruari's way and gave her his serenest smile. In Torr speak, that meant 'Get this little bird out of here or else it'll get worse. He was the kindest cousin after all.

"Red's a great colour,"

The reply came from a tall, smiling Dubliner. She held out two fabrics in her hands; one red and one blue. The red was a bright eye-catching ruby and the blue, an understated navy with delicate sparkles throughout. People didn't understand just what difference a fabric choice could make. Jersey was a casual, curve clinging one. Taffeta, a shiny fancy one. Cotton, cool and carefree. Silk, beautiful but unpredictable.

It was an unseasonably warm spring day in the Irish capital. The rain soaked streets were drying rapidly, birds were singing, the bright blue sky was clear and cloudless. Ruari's long blonde hair was pulled back into a professional ponytail, her brightly coloured trousers and strappy heels helped, too. Summer was in the air. It was a little after eleven in the morning and Annabelle, the witch holding the samples, was choosing fabric. She'd been measured and Ruari had cut the pattern but it had taken an awful long time to come to this point in time.

Thankfully, Ruari Regan was not an indecisive girl. Annabelle was so she'd sort of…gently pushed her into making choices. The finished product would be a finely cut cocktail dress for her friend's wedding in August. Ruari often made wedding guests and bridesmaids dresses. The only wedding dress she'd made was for her cousin, Etain. The dressmaker occasionally thought about making her own wedding dress but she never thought she'd ever get married. She'd come close to it once but it wasn't the right thing to do. Could she see herself marrying Hal? Heck yes but they'd sworn they'd take things slow. Things were good. She was just a bit bothered by the fact that he seemed a bit withdrawn lately but that wasn't any of her business.

"Well," Ruari said briskly with an encouraging smile. Things needed to get going. She had a backlog of dresses to make, some half finished, that needed completing by the weekend. "Blue is a great colour," she nodded. "It's classic and understated so you'd fit right in in a wedding party," she told Annabelle. "But red doesn't have to be overtly sexy. There's no reason you can't have a great dress in a bright colour. The only colour you should never wear to a wedding is white," she said and they both laughed. Ruari also thought black shouldn't be worn but what did she know? For her wedding, she always imagined she'd elope. Maybe on a beach at sunset. That'd be nice.

Seeing the look on the other witch's face, she blinked. Turning to see Torrence, she blinked. She hadn't seen him in a while. The last time he was here, he'd not been that nice, roughed up her dog playfully, accused her of not having a backbone and stormed out. Confused, she managed a smile in her cousin's direction. Was he after that Eva girl again? Ruari hadn't seen her since she'd modelled for her and then disappeared again. It was a shame. She would have liked the rainbow-haired girl to come back and have some more photos taken. She was so pretty and so tall and really rather nice.

"Hi," she told the man cheerily. "Could you give us a second? We're just in the middle of someth--"

Ruari's jaw dropped. Was he for real? Was this actually happening right now or what? "Torrence!" Ruari squeaked, shooting him daggers as Annabelle looked traumatised. "Behave! That is not true at all! Red is beautiful. Don't be so crass. Go and wait in the corner," she hissed, flinging her hand towards the wall that contained four floor to ceiling windows like a school teacher. "Annabelle, I am so sorry," she gushed with wide eyes, reaching out to grip the witch's hand. "please don't listen to him. Red doesn't make you look like that." The brunette blinked, gathered her things, turned on her heel and stormed off, leaving Ruari utterly shell-shocked.

"Oh shit," Ruari groaned, covering her face in her hands and pulling at her hair. Damage control. Yeah. She needed that. Setting her jaw, she strode right over to her cousin. "Hi Torrence!" She said cheerily and through thinly veiled rage. "How are you? Hey, thanks for buggering up an order for me, pal!" She squeaked, eyes wide and cheeks red. "Are you actually mental?" She continued. "Why did you say something so horrible to that poor girl?" Ruari asked him, her mind boggling. "I haven't got a lot of money at the moment so really, sending clientele running for the hills is making me want to harm you," she hissed.

Placing a clammy hand on her forehead, her shoulders sagged in defeat. "What do you want?" She asked, sounding exasperated at the fact that he only came to see her when he needed something. It honestly hurt her feelings a little bit.

At Ruari's surprised squeak, Torr just smiled with charm and lifted a shoulder in a casual shrug. What? he mouthed at her and then smiled even more when she told him to go wait in the corner. He turned on his heel, but not before sending a wink at Ruari's customer, sauntering away and sprawling himself on one of the petite, girly couches near the window. He stretched his arms along the back of the couch and watched with amused interest as the girl stomped away.

The Regan tilted his head as Ruari came over and talked at him, a little bit of a line forming between his brows as she continued. He hated when she got all screechy at him. The sound seemed to go right through his head and he lifted a few fingers to his forehead, the silver rings flashing in the light. "I'll give you money, cousin, if you need it," Torr said, cutting in so she would stop screeching at him. "That girl was horrid anyway. Her pinched face and that buck tooth? You don't want anyone looking like that in your clothing. Wouldn't be a very good representation of you, now would it?"

"You should be thanking me," he added with a serene smile. He made a study of her for a moment before patting the cushion next to him. "Why would you think I wanted anything?" Torr asked as he waited for her to come sit beside him. "Can't I just come to visit to say hello? I don't think we've seen each other since New Year's right?" He raised his arm to drape across the back of the couch and crossed one leg at the ankle over his knee, not caring one bit that he didn't fit in to this elegant, frilly, feminine shop with his black boots and leather and denim.

"Go on, tell cousin Torr how you've been," he said, his voice as smooth as honey, trying to coax her back into normalcy.

Ruari was frozen to the spot. Why was he so keen on ruining her life? She wasn't being melodramatic. He kept showing up, like a bad penny. First he wreaked havoc on her huge magazine shoot and now he was making her customers flee from her? "No please!" The tall blonde called after the upset woman. She winced as she heard the door slam. She sighed heavily, looking at the now unused fabric in her pale hands. She didn't really have a use for it now. Maybe she could make some sort of scarf from the offcuts? She hated waste and she was pretty sure she hated Torrence. Maybe. A little.

"You sound like my dad," the dressmaker lamented, copying her cousin as she pinched the bridge of her nose and groaned. Ruari was an independent young woman. It was bad enough that her parents had bought her this shop and paid the lease for the next ten years. It was so difficult to stand up for herself when so many kind and wonderful people were propping her up constantly.

Ruari's jaw dropped open. "That's a horrible thing to say!" She gushed, berating her cousin. "I don't design for stick thin people. Anyone can wear my things, no matter what they look like," she huffed, arms folded crossly. Although…looking back, Annabelle did have a bit of a snaggletooth. Ruari was used to demanding customers but she was taking the piss just a little bit. "Pfft," she scoffed rudely as he had the audacity to seek praise for his harsh words and actions. "You could have written me a letter," she told him frankly.

Ruari frowned, the wind knocked out of her sails. She shifted uncomfortably as she chewed on her lower lip. Maybe she shouldn't have shouted at him? She felt guilty but also a bit weary of him. "Because you always do?" She asked, regarding him with a gentle frown that creased her smooth forehead. "You're not really the type of man who just "pops in"," she said, her frown deepening. Not that it wasn't nice to see Torrence but there was no such thing as a free lunch.

New Year? "Oh right," she said breezily. "When you showed up with --" she paused. Torrence had shown up with a stripper. "Your, er, friend," Ruari concluded diplomatically. "She was very pretty. Are you two still dating?" She asked brightly, sitting next to him as he patted the cushion. She and the blonde hadn't been introduced. Their nana had gone utterly bezerk when the girl had shown up wearing a dress slashed at the navel. She knew Torrence was all about the shock factor but even he had gone a bit too far this time. What on earth possessed him to go through with that? Ruari cleared her throat gently. If he was happy courting lap dancers then she was happy too. Sorta.

"Fine," she began, smoothing down her hair and her pretty little crochet crop top. Her pale fingers began sorting out a file of parchment. Nothing interesting, just invoices. Ruari was upset that he just breezed in once every six months. She knew they weren't that close. She wasn't Torrence's type of person. She didn't drink and she didn't party. She dressed like a librarian sometimes. She wasn't fun. She made no mention of Hal or how things were going. Why? Because Torrence didn't give a flying fart in space about how her love life was going.

"I can't offer you any coffee I'm afraid," she began. "I haven't been shopping. I can get you some water?" She offered, sliding in some papers and closing the file, placing it next to him on the plush and comfortable sofa. Had she known he was coming, she still wouldn't have bought any because he never stayed long enough to finish the cup. She sighed heavily. "Cut the bullshit. What can I do for you?"

He gazed at her, a grin ghosting his lips, as she berated him. He didn't know which was funnier: Ruari taking exception to his blunt statement of truth or the fact that she thought he would care. Either way,Torr just watched in amusement as she got all angry. It was kind of cute and endearing and he really just wanted to laugh, but he held back when he might not have otherwise because he needed her help. On an exhale, he heaved himself from his laidback position on the couch and came to stand right in front of her, reaching out a hand to rub her shoulder. "I was just kidding, cousin," Torr said, trying to assuage her.

"And if I wasn't so busy with work, you know I would stop in more often," he added as she saw a frown forming between her brows. Did he really only visit her when he needed something? He thought back quickly. Yep, yep, yep. Hmmm. Maybe he should change that, he thought noncommittally.

When she decided to join him on the couch, Torr smiled easily as he sprawled. "Julia?" he asked, a deep laugh coloring his question. "No," he said shortly. Torr wasn't the dating type. What he and Julia had had wasn't really considered dating. And he didn't really think Ruari wanted all the details of his and Julia's stint. Though it would be amusing to see her reaction.

Torr shrugged at the offer of coffee or water and shook his head. Maybe she did know him better than he thought. He thought about trying to charm and convince her that he hadn't come by just because he needed something from her, but his impatience got the better of him. He had to know. It had been eating at him for too many days and he wasn't used to being unsettled like that.

"I went to this party last weekend. Hosted by the Blooms. They're fucking rich. Did anyone order dresses from you for that?" Torr said, attempting to go for casual interest. "I thought I saw this short red number that looked like something you would make." He peered over at his cousin and hoped he would see a spark of recognition in her eyes.

Headache.

That was usually what she got when Torrence was around. She loved him, dearly, but he made her head spin. Closing her eyes, she pinched the bridge of her nose to try and stem the pain. She knew money was readily available and that she was simply overreacting but that wasn't the point. Clooney, her older brother, always thought she was a bit dippy and had she had money worries, he'd be right. But he was a nice boy. She must ask Dash how their dinner went.

"Ha ha," she responded weakly, visibly relaxing as he helpfully rubbed her shoulder. See? He could be nice! Since dating Hal, she'd become markedly less silly. Which was only ever a good thing. For once, her bills were paid on time this month which was nice.

Ruari blinked. Feeling guilty, she nodded a little. Being busy was usually why she'd skipped Sunday lunch for a while. She had no idea how big Etain's little boy, Nick, was now. She wouldn't be shocked to see the baby not recognise who she was. Or was he a toddler now? "Crikey," she said out loud, her grey eyes wide in surprise. Oh dear indeed. Ruari had actually knitted Nick a cute little waistcoat but she wasn't even sure it'd fit the child any more. She supposed she could keep it in case any of her friends were expecting in the near future. It seemed plausible to her at any rate.

"Oh," the tall blonde said softly. "Well she seemed--" she coughed. "Nice? Don't think we were introduced. Will we be seeing her again soon?" Ruari asked politely. Torrence had had a long string of girlfriends. Or were they just sexual partners? Honestly, Ruari didn't really care to find out. He was young. He could do whatever he wanted. Not everyone needed a significant other and he seemed rather happy the way he was. He hadn't mentioned Eva in a while. The way he'd acted made it seem like he was really into her. The rainbow-haired girl was very nice, she could see why he'd be attracted but if he'd come for information, Ruari didn't have any to offer up.

"The Blooms?" Ruari asked sharply, eyes wide. Her head snapped towards her cousin so sharply that the ends of her long blonde hair whipped her cheeks violently. "Oh wow. That's a huge deal. They are rather affluent," the dressmaker said cheerily, agreeing with her cousin but without being so crass about things. "How was it?" She asked when really, she wanted to ask how the Hell did you get in? Ruari admired Bloom Mill and knew that if they were interested in her designs, she'd be loaded herself. But it'd mean selling out, in a way. Ruari's dresses were perhaps too bright and outlandish to be mass produced. Nor would she want them to be.

"Oh I dunno," she said honestly. Her memory wasn't that great. "I doubt it," she said with a casual shrug. "I imagine they'd all be wearing Bloom Mill designs. I've made sixteen red dresses in the past two months. Can you be more specific?" She asked Torrence as she grabbed her battered file and proceeded to flip through it. As she'd always done, Ruari kept half-hearted records. She jotted down the measurements, the fabric choices, date or order and completion, a photograph to make sure she never replicated a garment and sometimes a name. Not always. She was a bit dim.

Looking up, she was a bit surprised to see Torrence looking at her so intently. "Why'd you want to know?" She asked. "Didn't you get her name?" Ruari asked with a smile before remembering that he probably didn't ask girls their names. He probably just asked what time her legs opened.

"And why so interested?" Ruari asked casually, arching an eyebrow as she unclipped photos of dresses she'd made and handed them to him. There were a real jumble. One long and flowing in ruby, one with long sleeves, one with a pencil skirt and a sexy slit and pretty little one with a scalloped edge. She tilted her head and handed him another five photographs. They were on hangers against the back wall, not people so he might not recognise it. "Did you at least buy her a drink?"

Torr grinned and watched with amusement dancing in his cobalt blue gaze as Ruari fought for a polite way to describe Julia. The fact that his cousin always endeavored to be so courteous was entertaining. Annoying too, but mostly amusing. Nevertheless, the Regan barked out low laughter as he called Julia 'nice' and smiled slyly. The shock value he had hoped to get from bringing Julia to the New Year's Party had been well worth it. Still made him laugh even now, but he shook his head slowly for Ruari's sake and looked at her with a patronizing gaze. "No, not anytime soon."

He narrowed his eyes at her reaction to the Bloom name, but he leaned back against the couch, sinking even more into the cushions as he tried to appear careless. Torr watched her carefully from the corner of his eye as she chattered. "Not affluent," he corrected her. "Bloody fucking rich." And that was saying something considering how wealthy their own family was. Damn. Torr shrugged and rolled his head back onto the couch as he quickly recounted the event. "It was fine. Typical grand ballroom shit. Loads of really decrepit people dancing. Didn't have any hard liquor so I didn't stick around for long." He brought his head back up as he eyed his cousin. "You would have liked it," he told her.

Bloom Mill designs? Dammit. He hadn't thought of that and he felt the frustration that had been simmering at the back of his mind flare. Could he more specific? Sure. I wanted to fucking peel it off her creamy white skinned, long-legged frame. But he held his tongue. He guessed that wasn't really what she was looking for. "Err.. it was short. And red." Torr gave her a look. How was he supposed to describe a fucking dress? "The back was open." I ran my fingertips down her spine almost to her ass. Just the memory of it had his fingers itching. He watched with ill-concealed interest as she flipped through her orders. She was going too quickly though. The scribbled notes and photographs of red dresses all blended together and Torr restrained himself from snatching the entire file and disapparating right then and there.

Ruari's pointed question caught him off guard even though he should have expected it. He sat back in reaction and adopted a air of nonchalance. A shrug adding to the effect. "It's not like that," he bit out, his frustration rearing its head and taking aim at his cousin. "Excuse me for taking interest in what you do and taking note of a nice dress that reminded me of you." His tone was acerbic, his vibe icy like sharp shards.

Torr scowled at her from underneath his brows yet snatched the photos out of her hand when she offered them to him. He flipped through them, slowing and finally stopping when he found the one that had practically been burned in his memory for the past few days. He held the photo up between two fingers as he flipped it around to show her and leveled his gaze at her, unamused by her jokes. He dropped the pile of photos on her file and then rudely flicked the photo he had picked out of the pile at her chest. "That's the one that reminded me of your work. Guess it was a waste of time to come out here with a compliment since you're so determined to twist this into something else," Torr said, standing and taking a step from her as if heading to the door. "With this kind of reception, you wonder at why I don't visit that often," he muttered lowly, but just loud enough that he hoped she heard him.

"Well ballrooms are nice," Ruari said gently. "And you're classically trained," she reminded Torrence with a thoughtful frown. "I would have thought you'd have at least a little fun." It didn't occur to her that the girls his cousin liked probably weren't well versed in the foxtrot. He was being rude and belittling her but Ruari liked balls. She wasn't invited to a lot of them. There was just something romantic and magical about glittering chandeliers and champagne and jewel tones gowns. The allure was lost on Torrence. "You're right, I would," she replied as she stuck her chin out haughtily, refusing to accept his insult.

She blinked. Right. She forgot men were dim when it came to clothes. They weren't really that interested in details, just whether the hem was short enough or not. Ruari was concerned at his growing impatience. She swallowed, ready for a verbal onslaught. She knew Torrence would never hit her but that didn't mean that his words weren't as damaging as his fists.

Ruari flinched as though she'd been slapped. His tone was so raw, his words accusing and unrelenting. He didn't give her a chance to build a defence. Why did he always do that? Why was he constantly so mad at her? She swallowed again, her plump lips parted and ready to form some sort of apology. Clearly he wasn't in a playful mood. She made a mental note to sit as far away from his as possible at Sunday lunch and never to mention anything but the weather to him ever again. He couldn't get angry at her for saying that it was a nice day outside…right?

"I don't. I just --" she stammered, letting out a startled squeak as Torrence ripped the photographs from her hands. On instinct, she backed away. She slid backwards, pressing her back into the arm of the chair on the opposite side of the couch as thought fearful of a strike. He was unpredictable. He was capable of trashing her delicate little shop if he wanted to and he did seem genuinely enraged by her very presence.  A horrible feeling of guilt washed over her, making her feel a bit queasy and confused. He'd come all this way to ask questions about a dress, not a girl. Ruari had jumped to that conclusion and upset him so horridly.

Out of habit, Ruari reached up to fiddle with one of her dangling earrings. It was a comforting gesture, one she did often. Earrings, necklace, bracelets, rings. Anything she could move in slow, repetitive movements to try and ease her troubled mind.

The photos dropped with a dull thud, some slipping off the shiny surface and falling pathetically to the floor. Her big grey eyes caught sight of a dress before it was hurled bodily at her, the sharp corners of the printed paper nicking her collarbone and causing her to whimper. Ruari's lower lip wobbled as tears sprung to her eyes. She'd never been good at confrontation. She didn't hold her ground. She folded like a napkin. She was the family's doormat. The small red mark on her pale skin smarted at first but now it didn't but she still absently massaged it, like Torrence had physically smacked her there.

He was up and off the sofa, muttering. Ruari had her eyes downcast, tears filling up beneath her long, dark lashes. She felt like a child at school being disciplined by the headmaster. He was going. Probably for the best. She wouldn't receive any sympathy from him. Good job she had a dog, really. Sniffling woefully, she turned the photograph over whilst flicking through her book. Not an easy task when her vision was terribly blurred.

"Perdita Bloom," she told him, unsure whether or not he'd already stormed off like he was so prone to doing. "That was who had ordered the dress. Tall, short hair, kind of rude?" She asked out loud, her voice soft as she hastily collected back up the photographs. Sniffing again, she gathered them in a pile and shoved them back into a plastic wallet before shrugging. "Yup," she said with a shaky breath. "That's me. Constantly ruining your life. Bet you're sick of that right now," she said, her tone tinged with faint sarcastic acidity. Checking the back of the photograph, she shrugged. "She's got great measurements," she mumbled. "I bet she looked great in it."

He rolled his eyes at the mention of his dance training. It wasn't something he considered worthy to brag about. Or even interesting or useful enough to brag about. Although... it did seem to come in handy, an unexpected delight to his little mistress in red from Saturday night. Dammit, who is she? he thought for the millionth time since that night. He glanced over at Ruari when he picked up a stubborn note in her voice and he smiled easily at her. "I wasn't making fun, don't be so sensitive," he told her with a shake of his head. "I honestly meant I thought you would enjoy it." And she would have, he presumed. That scene had Ruari written all over it. He was actually surprised she wasn't there herself until he remembered he hadn't exactly been invited in the first place.

Seeing Ruari flinch and scooch away from him on the little sofa made him feel both potent and guilty. He liked knowing that someone had the right measure of him, but he wasn't sure if he liked that someone to be his cousin. Her whimper and the tears sparkling in her eyes that he caught glance of before he stood made him feel like he had just been punched in the gut. The little mark on her pale skin stood out to him and he tried to feel bad about the fact that he liked seeing it there. No, wait. He didn't. This was his cousin. He didn't want to see her hurt.

Torr crossed his arms in front of him, his dark jacket stretching across his broad shoulders, as he took up residence in the center of the room and tried to quell his raging frustration. He hadn't really wanted to walk out, even though he had been tempted to do just that. It wouldn't have served his game in the end though. Ruari played right into his hands. Her voice wrapped around him as she spoke her name and with his back to Ruari, Torr allowed himself the full measure of the wicked smile that turned up his lips. Perdita Bloom. One step closer.

Hearing Ruari's sniffle brought him from his wayward thoughts of Miss Bloom and Torr turned toward his cousin, his expression calmer, tinged with apology. It was the best that he could do at the moment when he really just wanted to apparate away and go find his Miss Bloom. "I'm sorry, cousin," he told her quickly as he walked the few steps back toward her and sat down next to her, but slowly. He got out his wand and nudged her hand a side from where she was massaging her little mark. "C'mere," he said as he placed the tip of his wand gently on her pale skin, flicking his eyes to hers, before casting the small healing charm. Her sarcastic remark had him gripping his wand tighter, his knuckles going white beneath the hawthorn wand, his lips thinning, but he held his tongue.

"She did look great. It was a nice dress," Torr said honestly. He knew he and Ruari probably admired different qualities in a dress, but it was truth coming from him either way. "Was she rude to you?" he asked, purposefully keeping his voice softer, watching as the tip of his wand glowed a soft yellow light as it healed her.

He'd always been on at her for not getting mad. Ruari hadn't really ever seen the point of anger. It made people make rash choices, bad decisions. It caused war. It hurt feelings and bruised egos but….she could kind of see his point. Her family hadn't ever wanted to change her. They'd accepted her, warts and all. They'd accepted that she was a bit dippy and wore bright clothes. They'd accepted that she had a fondness for flowers and was so upset as a child when the lawn was mowed, thinking that the grass had feelings. She was a nice girl, so why did Torrence think she was the Devil incarnate?

It was her fault, clearly.

Unaware that Torrence had skilfully manipulated her, her shoulders sank in defeat. She didn't wear much make up but today, she had. Her mascara was wet, the result was a partial panda eye as it smudged with her tears. There wasn't much point in hiding them. She had a penchant for convulsively filtering herself but tears were different. They came out no matter what the occasion.

Hearing her cousin was still there, Ruari flapped her hands at him as she coughed. "I'm fine," she said crossly, angry that she'd been so daft as to let things get this bad. She was 24 next month. She couldn't be wandering around, sobbing because someone said something not that nice to her. She wasn't a child. She flapped her hands at him again in a half-hearted attempt to get him to go away. She didn't like space. She was a bit suffocating in that respect. She was never one who needed space to like her wounds. She needed a hug. Torrence wasn't a hugger.

"Really not a big deal," she said, sounding choked. "Just a scratch. It's not even  bleeding. It's totally fi--" as Torrence nudged her, she complied. She let her hand drop to her side limply as she sighed. She was half expecting him to maybe decapitate her. He wasn't one for pulling a complete one-eighty. "Ow," she complained as she wrinkled her nose, trying to wriggle free of his grip and the painful way his wand tip was pressed against her skin. He was holding it against her bone, above the mark. He'd only tell  her to stop being such a cry baby.

"Oh well that's good," the blonde replied, wiping her eyes with the crocheted sleeves of her crop top. If the woman made an impression, that was nice. Ruari shrugged. "Perhaps rude is the wrong word to use," she said softly, aware that Torrence was still a little bit volatile. "Direct, almost?" She said, flicking her eyes to him as she sighed. "Exacting. She made it seem like she had some sort of point to prove," she said gently, wincing at the weight of his wand against her skin. "It sounded like she wanted to make a scene or maybe even make some sort of an entrance? I imagine she did, that dress was very short indeed."

Ruari sighed. She was used to rude customers but that girl was different. "She seemed very proud. Could be her upbringing. She was ever so posh," Ruari replied, her Dublin accent changing to mimic a very clear, crisp and upper class English one. "And late," she added darkly. "She was always on the go. She seemed very busy, always keeping her eye on her watch which made me panic a little bit. I dunno." She concluded breezily. "I think she needs loosening up."

"Stop complaining, you're fine," Torr told her, though his voice was soft. THe little nick really was nothing, but he could see that he had hurt her feelings just from that look in her eyes. Fragile was the word that came to mind when he thought of his cousin and maybe that's why he didn't come round very often. He knew deep down that he was no good for fragile beings. And they never survived around him. Plus runny mascara was never attractive and Torr was never a fan of girls who cried.

Torr focused on the spell and watched as her skin slowly paled and the line faded. For a moment, a dark thought crossed his mind, an urge to make it worse, break it open and make it bleed, but he pushed it away. This wasn't the time or the place or the right company to indulge in his darkness.

The Regan glanced up at his cousin as she spoke of Perdita, the name sticking in his mind just as her red dress had. He listened closely, carefully, eager and interested to learn anything more about this girl that he could. He tried to remain impassive though for Ruari had already gotten the wrong idea once and he didn't want to encourage her any more. "She did stand out," Torr added, focusing his comments more on the fib he had told his cousin. "But mostly because of the dress you made for her. I hope you charged her a shit load of galleons for it."

Proud. Posh. Direct. Torr drank up every thought his cousin had on this girl, but he lowered his wand and dropped his arm to his lap as he once again reclined back on the sofa. It was if the little mark that had marred her skin never existed. It was as if it had never happened. "Busy with what? She probably doesn't even have to lift a finger with all that money her family has," Torr said with a grin, hoping to bring Ruari further away from the brink of tears she was at a few moments ago. All the while, however, he was thinking, I know a few ways to loosen her up. "Does she order a lot from you?" he asked his cousin as he glanced around the shop, letting his gaze linger on he various racks around the room. "You should charge her double next time if she was giving you so much trouble." Oh and tell me when she's stopping by so I can drop in too.

"Well we don't all make a habit of hurting ourselves or each other," Ruari snapped in response to his teasing. She scowled at him. She only knew Torrence's penchant for mild sadism when he brought a girl back to the stronghold at Cork and she'd walked in on him. The scene was odd. She was still very young at the time so seeing a woman being held down in a grip that looked very unpleasant, she didn't really know the full extent of her cousin's desires. And that was a very good thing indeed.

"Oh well that's good," the Dubliner said, smiling for perhaps the first time that day. Red was a bold colour choice. From what he'd described, she imagined a lot of black and drab colours so a shock of scarlet was sure to get tongues wagging. "I was actually going to ask her if she'd like to model for me," she said with a sigh. "But she didn't leave any contact details. Didn't you think she had the right proportions for couture?" She asked Torrence with wide eyes. "Her legs went on for miles. How big do you think her bust measurements were?" She asked him placidly, her mind reeling. "She'd look good in a floor length gown. So tall, so slim."

Ruari flinched at the use of a swear word and frown at her cousin. "Of course not," she replied testily, sitting up a little straighter. "I charge by the expense of the material, how much I need and any extra embellishments," she told him, not like he gave a flying fart in space about her methods but still. "Things don't get costly until I have to start hand embroidering designs."

"Oh she has a job," Ruari said, quick to defend the other woman's honour. "Something in the Ministry, I think so said," she replied with a thoughtful frown. "You know, you shouldn't just assume things," she told Torrence darkly, tutting underneath her breath before she sighed heavily. "It's rude. For all you know, she could speak six languages, cook like a pro and give to charity." Ruari shrugged. Never judge a book by its cover and all that. "Don't tell me you've got a thing for posh tottie," she asked him, eyes wide. "Because something tells me she won't be that impressed."

Ruari shook her head. "Nope," she said breezily. "First time order. Why?" She asked, narrowing her eyes a fraction of an inch as though she thought her cousin might have some sort of ulterior motive. "Whatever it is, I want nothing to do with it," she said on the next breath with wide eyes and a shake of her head. She didn't want anyone having sex on her pattern cutting table. Her shop had floor to ceiling windows! On a residential street! The neighbours! Lord have mercy. She blushed at the thought.

"Oh she wasn't that bad," she said lightly as she closed her file, a slip of paper falling out. She picked it up to find an address written on it. She blinked. "Oh right," she said softly. "She said she was from up north." Not that anyone could tell. She lacked the accent. She was very clipped and refined. Elocutions lessons? Or good company maybe? The address was one in the affluent suburb of Chester. She'd been once on a romantic spa weekend with an ex-boyfriend and she gave a low, impressed whistle. "Yup," she said with a nod. "You're punching above your weight, love."

The hope and optimism and victory that had flared in Torr when Ruari had revealed Little Red's name suddenly dimmed in light of his cousin not having any of her contact details. Dammit. He glanced away and tried to fight the wave of frustration that threatened to take him over. He had been living with that frustration for days now and he hated it. His hand clenched into a fist, his fingers turning white and Torr thought about up and leaving just then. Ruari's question caught him off guard and he turned his head toward her. He gave her a bewildered, incredulous look when she asked him what her measurements are, but it was if you could see when his thoughts became darker. There was a gleam in his eye and a sly smile on his face but he kept his tone light as he glanced sidelong at his cousin.

"Bust measurements?" he asked his mood lifting and he let out a bark of laughter. If not for nothing, his cousin could be amusing. Torr brought his hand up to his chest and cupped his fingers together. "I'd say a good cup. A good cupful of boob," he demonstrated with a wicked smile. His fingers itched to get hold of those good cupfuls and he tried not to fall headlong into the frustration again. He shrugged at her overlong explanation of her business things and rolled his eyes. "Still could have charged her whatever the hell you wanted," Torr muttered.

Every fiber of his being jumped at the mention of more information on his Perdita. "She's a Ministry worker?" he said with an incredulous laugh. No wonder she had a stick permanently up her arse. He shook his head and he once again leaned his head on the back of sofa, slouching in the seat. Ruari lectured him more often than he'd like, he thought as he glanced at her from the side, but he didn't hate it as much as he would from anyone else. He laughed at her question and gave her another look. "She's not my type," he said shortly, discounting her 'impressed' comment. It needled him but he tried not to let it show because Torr was bent on changing that.

"I'm just trying to make conversation, cousin," he said with an edge of impatience. "You don't always have to be doubting me." Even though it was smart of her to do so. You're punching above your weight, love. Fucking hell. Ruari knew how to push his buttons. Torr breathed in a deep breath and exhaled long and slow, eyes closed, his head resting against the back of the couch. He'd already had to heal her once today. He didn't want to make a repeat performance. When the flash of anger faded, something else took its place. "You've got it wrong, cousin," Torr said lightly as he opened his eyes, the beams on the ceiling of her shop crisscrossing in his line of sight. "She's the one who was after me. Can't say I'm not used to the attention" He shrugged as a little smile curved his lips upward.

Ruari shrugged gently. Torrence knew her well enough to know that she didn't load herself down with details. Considering she ran her own business, she should really start doing that pretty soon. Her dad would feel a bit more at ease. She was sure she was going to give him a heart attack one day if she wasn't careful. He had contacts. Most pureblood and wealthy families were connected in some way. Ruari didn't know anything. She just made a girl a dress.

"I didn't say that," the blonde said suddenly, eyes wide. His laughter made her frown suddenly. Torrence Regan wasn't one for laughter. A smug smirk and an arched eyebrow, sure, but a giggle? The scene that played out left her wondering about his sanity indeed. Her big grey eyes flicked downwards to her cousin's hands. She was willing to sidestep that sexist remark for fear of him lashing out and so, she simply offered a tense smile. "I'd say you'd be around a B cup," she added, her tone taking on a steely edge before something struck her. She had to stick up for her gender!

"It's a respectable job," Ruari said, eyes wide. "Would you prefer she didn't work at all?" Not working because you were rich was fine but that wasn't how she was raised. Torrence would like that. A bored debutante looking for a little bit of rough and tumble. The look on his face made her worry for the poor girl's welfare. She didn't know this Perdita but Torrence seemed to be giving her a rather unfair beating. "Do you know something I don't?" She asked, blinking. There seemed to be some sort of inside joke going on around here.

Now, it was her turn to laugh and laugh she did. She snorted, covering her mouth with her hand politely. "Really," she said, eyebrows arched. "Tall, pretty, rich?" Ruari asked, tilting her head to the side. "I thought anyone with a vagina would be your type," she added lightly, reclining a little. His relationships were none of her business, just like hers weren't any of his. He'd denied he was interested twice now. "Me thinks he doth protest too much," she concluded, shooting him a knowing look before letting the subject drop swiftly.

Ruari sucked her teeth, folding her arms across her bust. Spending time with Torrence was like emotional tennis, constantly back and forth. She declined to comment as she crossed her legs, her file resting on her slim thighs. She mimicked the Irishman. Her head rested on the back of the sofa, their bodies close as they looked up at the clean white ceiling.

Turning her head, she watched him closely. "You know," she began. "You'd be a lot more attractive if you were a little more humble," she warned him. He was young. She'd seen him with various different girls most times she'd seen him. He was in no mood to settle down and that was just fine. His choice. Ruari had tried a few one night stands in her time but she didn't like it. The idea of meeting someone for ten minutes before becoming intimate and baring all seemed a bit…perverse to her. Monogamy for the win.

"Then I imagine she'll show up soon if she knows you're a Regan," she added lightly. Girls had turned up here after they'd worked out that the two were related. She hadn't been lying when they turned up, distraught after telling them that she had no idea where Torrence was. She didn't voice her thoughts but it seemed like the opposite was true. He'd been the one coming in, asking about a dress. Ruari folded her lips together, careful not to anger him further. She knew an obsession forming when she saw one.

"Maybe not but she's still in conversation." It was a loaded question. Girls were never mentioned more than once. Finding out a girl's name had never elicited a decidedly predatory grin from him, nor this odd behaviour. Boys were weird. She was fully expecting Torrence to call her stupid, kick the table and storm off. As a result, she wiggled a little and got herself more comfortable so she could watch the show.

"Only a B?" he asked wickedly and then moved his hands, spreading his fingers to make his cupping larger. "How about now?" He grinned at her, his cobalt blue eyes glittering with amusement. He sighed when he imagined that his dear cousin probably wasn't amused by the thought as he was.

Torr shrugged a light shoulder. "I don't really care what she does," he told Ruari lightly. It was half truth and half lie. The Ministry thing shouldn't have surprised him. She was such a posh prat that he should have expected it, but maybe he was surprised that she had a job at all. He didn't really care to think through it all. Too much effort. He glanced over at her and studied her for a moment at her question. "Depends on what you know, babe." Torr wasn't giving anything away. He was here to get information, not dole it out.

"She wasn't that pretty," he grumbled, gritting his teeth as she laughed at him. All of a sudden he wasn't as amused. His frustration, his impatience was always simmering right under the surface. And it was always just too easy to lash out at Ruari. "Pretty sure you have a vagina and you're not my type," he threw at her as he pushed himself away from the couch and stood. Regardless of the fact that they were related, he meant it as a jab at her and regretted it a second later. It burned at him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that." It was rushed but that was all of an apology that he could offer.

He shrugged at her comment of being humble. An 'I am who I am' sort of expression crossed his face as he crossed his arms in front of him. He was already considering his next destination, assuming he wouldn't be getting anything else from Ruari today. She was as useful as she was going to be and he wasn't really in the mood for her probing. Her comment did have him turning his head toward her and he perked his brows with a smirk. "If she does come round, let me know. She owes me something," he told her. Certain promises had been made and are still yet unfulfilled. That bitch.

Torr narrowed his eyes at his cousin and then shook his head. He was already frustrated enough. He had already apologized more than once to his cousin, using up his quota for the month. He brushed off her comment and closed the distance between them, changing the subject smoothly. He bent to kiss her cheek in farewell as he said, "I have to get going. You'll let me know if she comes round?" His eyes searching hers before he stood back.