<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 150%; line-height: 116%;"><span style="color: #FFBFFF"><span style="font-weight: bold"><a class="postlink" href="https://i.postimg.cc/kGpMtN8m/Untitled.png">V I V I E N N E</a></span></span></span><br/><span style="font-size: 150%; line-height: 116%;"><span style="color: #FFBFFF"><span style="font-weight: bold">R O S C H A</span></span></span></div><br/><br/><br/>Emerald hued eyes had spied a rather dapper man and followed with familiarity. He was quite the looker, but it wasn't why she stared. No, she stared because she could. He hadn't noticed her and he wouldn't until she was ready. She stood near the bar, as closely as she could stand near him without it being overtly obvious. She only needed to be able to step out when she was ready for him to look up, after all. <br/><br/>She tucked a piece of dark, curled hair behind her ear, brushing the tips of her fingers against the diamonds that delicately hung from her lobes. That same hand fell some to reach for the dirty martini that a trainee had sloppily made, bringing it to her ruby lips to give it a try. Her tongue darted out briefly to catch any rogue liquid on her lips, then she gave a small smack, a finger coming up to fix an imagined lipstick smear. <span style="color: #FFBFFF">"Mm. Rodney, help Trish with this. The taste is pure, but the presentation is trash. Have her <span style="font-style: italic">fix it</span>,"</span> a shadow of a man behind the bar gave a quick yes ma'am and disappeared to do as commanded. <br/><br/>Her attention turned back to the dark haired man just in time to see him finish his usual order of cognac. He liked it aged well, if she recalled correctly. As she had assumed, he ordered another. It was unfortunate that he would have to be disappointed, she thought as she took another sip of the martini. She had, perhaps a little bit gleefully, decided he would get their bachelorette order. After all, who wouldn't want Sex on the Beach, she wondered a bit sarcastically to herself. <br/><br/>Finally, the moment came when the drinks landed on his table. She took a moment to smooth the glittery sequins on her knee-length dress as she observed his grey eyes hardening at the sight of the delivery. He was dissatisfied, she noted to herself with some amount of satisfaction as she took the final sip from her poorly structured martini. The fruity, frilly drinks had elicited a reaction, small as it was, and Vivienne was elated in that fact. She wasn't usually the type to engage her patrons, but desperate times, as it were, called for desperate measures. She only hoped her suspicions were correct about his ties. <br/><br/>He looked up at her and she stared calmly back, almost daring him to approach. He regarded her in silence, almost contemplatively. Offhandedly she wondered if he realized that particular suit jacket didn't suit him. Her thoughts on the matter ended as he turned away to take a final drag of his cigarette. <br/><br/>With quiet, graceful steps, she glided towards him, <span style="color: #FFBFFF">"Is something the <span style="font-style: italic">matter</span>, sir?"</span> she asked, her eyes falling to the drinks as he turned back towards her, "You seem displeased." It took everything in her to not smirk in amusement. The man in front of her, she knew, was likely dangerous. She had no real proof of it, only rumors. Always only rumors. <br/><span style="color: #FFBFFF"><br/>"I can procure you something else, if you'd like. We do have quite the list, if you'd like to take a look," </span>at that point, Vivienne gave a small upturn of her red lips. She was teasing him.</span>