[paris] moon, stand still a while [prosper]

july 2002

Luciana lifted the glass of champagne to her full lips and drank deeply; anything to drown out the incessant peacocking of the man who had brought her here as his date. Adam had seemed pleasant enough the few brief times she had met him before tonight (why else would she have agreed to a night at the opera with him?), but apparently opera wasn’t really his thing. In fact, buying a box had not been to offer them a better view of Rusalka – it had been to guarantee privacy.  When they arrived at the opera house he had been positively charming, even his horrendous American accent hadn’t grated on her too much, but with each successive Act he had had more alcohol brought to them, and by the final Act he had become rather forward and handsy.

The Italian witch had remained in her seat only to avoid attracting attention, but the moment the curtain had fell she’d risen from her seat as though the very motion had thrust her upright, and exited into the lounge without so much as a backwards glance. The brunette enjoyed a brief moment without his company before he found her. She should have left immediately, but it was impossible to apparate from inside the theatre and she thought he might have gotten the hint. 

Apparently not.

Luciana shot her ‘date’ a filthy look at his most recent inappropriate offer and made her way to the bar, her gown restricting her stride and slowing her down somewhat inconveniently. She intended to purchase her own drink rather than allow him to do so and think she owed him anything. He followed. In his eveningwear he was handsome; tall and lean, with light eyes and jet-black hair that he had smoothed back with far too much product. If only he were mute, and had two broken hands.

The elemental reached the far end of the bar and sidled up to it, facing deliberately away from her date and attempting to attract the attention of a server. Adam the American took this as an invitation to come up behind and wrap an arm around Luciana, his hand sliding down to her backside. Lucia grabbed his wrist and pushed it away. “Don’t touch me.” She spat, turning to glare up at him. “Thank you for the show, I believe I can make my own way back to my hotel.” She said heatedly, her English heavily-accented, then turned back to the bar and waved distractedly at a barman with light-brown hair. 

”Don’t be like that, Lucy. You know you’re coming back with me.” Adam drawled, the alcohol practically seeping out of his pores as he leaned in to pull her to him in what would not be considered a chaste embrace. Even in the dim lighting of the lounge, Luciana was certain that the other attendees would see them. Reluctant to cause a scene by slapping him, Luciana simply pushed at his chest to try and create some space between their bodies, and in response he held her tighter. “Let go of me!” She hissed, turning her face away from his impending kiss and towards the barman, her warm hazel eyes growing wide as they met her ex-boyfriend’s soft grey ones.

Prosper didn't have the attention span for a job like this. The actual work was easy; he could smile and charm with the best of them, and he'd always been pretty deft with his hands. He'd picked up some of the flashier parts of serving - the flipping of bottles, pouring multiple drinks at once etc - very quickly, but after that there hadn't been much new stuff to learn. Thank Merlin for the people he worked with, most of whom were now friends, because otherwise he might lose his mind in the repetition of it all.

The crowd ebbed and flowed; it was always busiest just before a show, when a crowd of well-dressed theatre goers were waiting patiently to see an opera or a ballet performance. Intermissions were busy, but people tended not to drink too heavily while waiting to return to their seats. After shows had ended there were more people buying drinks but less people overall. Of course, as the building had more than one hall and multiple things were on at once, these session times tended to overlap. Right now, things were slowly winding down. Prosper had less than an hour remaining on his shift. Despite it being extremely unhelpful, he couldn't help but glance at the clock every few minutes.

The man placed two shimmery cocktails on the bar, sliding the glasses closer to the two middle-aged women who'd been trying to flirt with him for the past fifteen minutes. He gave the pair a smile and a nod before turning away. "These women and their opaleye martinis," he said under his breath to one of the other bartenders as they moved past him, balancing several bottles in their arms. HIs comment was met with a grin. Prosper was on his way to collect more lime slices when he hesitated,  his attention drawn down one end of the bar. There seemed to be some sort of altercation between a couple there, and he didn't like the look of it. The lighting was low but the woman sort of looked like...

Hmm. Prosper wasn't the only one who'd caught sight of the altercation, but as his workmate started moving towards the end of the bar, Prosper put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. "I've got it," he said quietly, moving past the man and reaching for the wand tucked into his back pocket. He couldn't help it as a smirk formed on his lips; kicking out patrons that were too messy or too inappropriate was one of the more fun parts of the job. He moved quickly, performing a lazy confundus charm as he moved past the little wooden gate that barred entry to the staff area.

Prosper slid in smoothly then, one hand arrogantly placed on the man's back as he spun him away. He smiled with familiarity, like this man was his old friend here, rather than Luciana. "Why don't we step over here for a moment and leave the pretty girl alone, hmm?" he asked, raising his other hand in a half wave to the security guard by the entrance. Two security wizards made their way through the crowd swiftly. "Cheers Antonio," he said, slipping away and palming the brute off to the guards with a sharp smile, showing teeth. It all happened in a matter of seconds.

Some of the smugness faded as he turned back to Luciana. He took a few steps back in her direction, choosing to pause casually against the bar beside her for a moment rather than return immediately to his post on the other side of it. "Tell me that was a blind date," he commented, humour in his tone as he poked a thumb over his shoulder, in the direction of the entrance. The man tucked his wand back into his pocket. Without missing a beat, though, his expression softened a little. "You okay though?" he added.

Luciana felt Adam’s hold on her loosen, leaving soft marks upon her pale skin from where he'd been gripping her too tightly. The brunette realised quickly that Prosper had done something to her ‘date’. She stepped back and away the moment she was 'free' and watched as the Frenchman spun the tall American away smoothly. As he did so Lucia took the moment of distraction to smooth her dress down and rearrange herself, having been unwillingly ruffled.

Flipping her long dark hair over her shoulder and readjusting the strap of her gown, she turned towards the bar as she tried to compose herself; breathing slowly and keeping her head high – eyes open and looking skyward to avoid any threat of tears. She wasn't hurt, or upset, really – just in a very mild state of shock, or distress. Prosper didn’t give her long to recover – he was back in her atmosphere within seconds. The Italian wasn’t enough in her right (or rather, wrong) mind to scowl at his comment, instead just staring at him with her big doe eyes in mild disbelief that he should be here, of all places. Luciana flicked her gaze to the exit just in time to see Adam being escorted out. “More like deaf.” She replied, the slightest hint of venom in her tone – though not directed at Prosper, for a change. “He was a lot more bearable before he started drinking. Like most men, it seems.”

Her eyes were drawn back to her ex-boyfriend and she softened in response. “I’m fine. Thank you.” And she was sincere. Prosper had saved her from, at best, causing a scene, at worst… it wouldn’t have gotten that far. Still, she would at least be grateful, even if the ex-lovers had been on less favourable terms the last time they’d crossed paths. She gave him the once-over, relaxing now that the situation was more under control. He looked good, for a man in a bartender's uniform. No, really, he did. Why had she been mad at him again?

“I hope you’re not stalking me.” She said teasingly, half-turning towards the bar and resting one arm on the marble surface ready to place an order. “Are you working here?” she smiled, not unkindly. “Make me a drink.”

"Of course," Prosper said with a deep nod, a smirk playing on his lips as he turned away from her. He slid elegantly past the little gate to the other side of the bar. "I have the perfect drink for you," he said, slipping easily into his host role. The man reached for a tall glass with a short stem, twirling the object lightly between his fingers as if it were a wand or a quill rather than expensive crystal while he reached for a bottle with his other hand. As per usual, he would not squander this chance to show off. He'd learned a lot of deft little tricks in the past couple of months here, magician-esque sleight of hand performance moves designed solely to look impressive while constructing a cocktail piece by piece.

Prosper barely looked at what he was doing while he talked to her, muscle memory taking over for him as he switched to autopilot, pouring and mixing, flipping the occasional bottle, slicing a lime. "So did you enjoy tonight's show?" he asked politely, exaggerating his position of employment within the theatre for comical effect. His grey eyes flicked briefly to the door and back. "Company excluded, of course."

Prosper deftly poured a dash of green liquid into the bubbling drink, then drew his wand and tapped it lazily on the side of the glass. Inside it, a slender vine grew in a spiral shape upwards, through the ice, to the surface. It was just candy, of course, but looked like a plant of some kind, a couple of leaves and all. The liquid had stopped bubbling now, and what appeared to be thin wisps of shimmery steam drifted across its surface in a spiral shape.

Prosper raised the glass and took a cheeky sip from its sugar-coated rim. It was sweet first, then sour. Perfect. "Venomous spectacular," Prosper said, sliding the glass across the bar's smooth surface. He thought she'd appreciate the drink's name; a play on words referencing a plant. "Sweet," he told her, wiping a single drop from his lips with a thumb, "but with a bite." He smiled a bit just then, the implication clear and teasing, but in a well-natured sort of way.

"On the house, of course," Prosper added graciously, "for your troubles." While he waited for her to taste the drink, the nineteen-year old snuck a glance down the long bar to the other end. The room was decidedly quieter now that the most recent wave of theatre goers had mostly cleared out. Shrugging the risk away, Prosper poured himself a drink too; something decidedly less fancy than the one he'd made her. He added a bit of fruit on the side as a garnish anyway, just because he could.

Luciana offered Prosper a demure smile, the past few moments already fading into a distant memory as he distracted her. The Italian witch watched with interest as Prosper prepared her drink, more than a little impressed by the finesse with which he was doing it. “Yes,” she answered softly, her lips curling into a smirk at his comment. “The present company is an improvement.” She admitted. That wasn’t really saying much, but it was intended as a compliment. Prosper was acting like everything was fine, so Luciana would do the same until he gave her a reason not to.

It had been months, she couldn’t remember how many exactly, since that night in Neroli. A few less since their last little run-in, here in Paris. She felt embarrassed thinking back to it; she’d acted like a brat and she knew it, but she’d been mad at him. Jealous. Him and his ability to seamlessly flit between lovers unscathed. Here, now, she struggled to summon that same rage. Perhaps it was because he was alone, with her, being the perfect gentleman – just like in school.

Luciana’s interest in Prosper’s cocktail-making skills took a temporary backseat as she studied him; the way his brow furrowed just a fraction as he concentrated, the sparkle in his eyes when he was in his element: showing off. Her own eyes were drawn to Prosper’s lips as he taste-tested his creation. Luciana Aahed quietly in appreciation of the name and smirked. The witch raised an eyebrow at him, humming a soft “Mhm,” she kept their eye contact unbroken. “A bite?“ Well, he hadn’t lost his charm. If that’s what that was. “You’ve never complained before.” She said, thinking back to the last time they’d had sex and the marks they’d left on one another. Before he could continue with that thought, Luciana lifted the glass and parted her lips.

She sipped at first, then took a deeper drink when the initial taste didn’t put her off. The elemental blinked once at the sharp aftertaste – sharp, but not unpleasant. She licked her lips, smiling at him. “You’re not going to get in trouble for little old me are you?” Even as she said it, she was vaguely aware of the fact that he’d certainly done so before. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the room emptying slowly. Luciana shifted to hold the glass in one hand, and delicately plucked the vine-like candy from the drink with long, manicured fingers. “Did you come up with this yourself?” She placed the ‘vine’ between her lips to suck off the dripping liquid.

"Thank you," Prosper said, the gracious element in his tone a little exaggerated in response to her "compliment". This sort of thing had always come so easily to him, he thought distantly. Prosper's grey eyes glinted as he watched her survey his creation. This, he thought, the slow smile spreading across his lips an echo of the smirk in her tone, if not on her lips. The charm. The showing off. The chemistry.

A tiny part of him nagged at the rest; the last time he'd felt this sort of vibe with the woman in front of him, they'd ended up in her bed. He decided to forget the argument that had led to him walking out, but the bed part stuck in his mind for a moment before he remembered that he was supposed to shake that too. Was it a problem, he wondered? Being alone with an ex? Flirting - just a little? Prosper had this sort of light banter with a lot of people; he flirted with the bar's patrons, flirted with his friends. It was just a part of who he was. So then, was this different because she was a proper ex? Was it different because of the last time they'd met, when Ariane had actually been there?

His thoughts glossed over these feelings, which disappeared quickly as he took a deep sip of his own drink. "I'm tempted to say yes," he answered, lowering his glass again. After a moment, Prosper picked the slice of orange he'd decorated his drink with and took a small bite of it. He stole another quick glance down the bar to make sure no one too important was paying attention. "Sadly I mostly just pour the drinks," He added, turning his attention back to her fully. "Though sometimes I drink them," he added conspiratorially.

Despite the lightness of their banter, he really was glad that she was okay. Prosper didn't imagine Luciana to be the type to broadcast even if she was shaken, but... She seemed fine, and he hoped that he could read her a little better than most. It was rather presumptuous of him, considering that he hadn't been close to the witch in years - and she hadn't seemed to soften after school, in fact quite the opposite - but Prosper tended to be a presumptuous sort of person. He remembered her softer side. Knew it was in there.

He finished his drink, then tidied up a little as he spoke. "Where are you headed after this?" he asked, then to clarify his intent, added, "walking or apparating?" There was a portkey station nearby, and he'd walk her there if she could wait until his shift ended in half an hour or so. Of course, Luciana didn't really need his protection, but Prosper didn't really think this stuff through, he just followed his instincts.

Luciana held the candy vine in one hand and lifted her glass with the other, drinking a little more to steady the nerves that had started seeping back in now that the adrenaline from before was waning. Prosper was helping too, she supposed. Did this mean she owed him? Better not to think about that right now.

She licked her lips, enjoying the sour tang from Prosper’s creation and the way it was making her mouth tingle. She kept sipping as he tidied behind the bar – noting that he’d already finished his own drink. Part of her wondered if he’d even put any alcohol in it, and then the other part of her remembered they’d both come a long way from getting drunk off of two glasses of wine on his parent’s sofa.

“I… well, I have a room booked, but I think I’ll check in somewhere else,” she glanced at him, then around the room. “I would rather not stay in the same hotel…” She assumed Prosper would know without her having to spell it out. “And I don’t want to get a portkey at this hour, it’ll be horrendously expensive.” She sighed; it wasn’t that she couldn’t afford it if she was desperate, she just didn’t want to waste her money. Her father made money quickly but he also had a bad habit of spending it just as fast as it came in. Luciana was smarter than that. She got an allowance, but most of it was tucked away – just in case.

She met his gaze at his follow up question, he seemed to have genuinely forgotten that she lacked the ability to apparate. “Walking,” she replied, not unkindly. “Know anywhere nearby?”