Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Human Solos =&gt; Topic started by: Sevenpercentsolution on 01-10-2008, 20:48:45</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>01-10-2008, 20:48:45</strong>
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				The air was close, hot and sticky that unforgiving summer; it was a Friday, and the beaches were littered with sweating, lively bodies. At sunset, couples would walk along the shore and shyly hold hands, but it seemed that when dark fell in Miami, the predator came out in everyone who inhaled the night air, and they would devour eachother right on the sand. &nbsp;The sun had sunk below the horizon hours ago, but darkness never truly fell in the city because of the eternal flourescent glow that came from the clubs, raves, diners, dance halls, honey bars, and strip clubs - it was a city that truly came to life when a more conservative one would be asleep. &nbsp;<br><br>Somewhere down a winding path, just near the shoreline of South Beach was a post-modern monstrosity of a building, built entirely of steel and mirrored glass; while others wandered Miami casually in their hawaiian shirts and bikinis, this building was littered with suits, women dripping with diamonds and taffeta clung to the arms of their much older companions, holding flutes of champagne in their satin-gloved hands, dressed like princesses as they moved through the massive building, looking at the marble sculptures, ming vases, and hundreds of paintings that hung around the place. &nbsp;<br><br>Withered, papery-looking men stood in loose circles around the place, drinking brandy and smoking enormous cuban cigars while their wives and mistresses chattered amongst themselves in low voices, commenting on dresses, jewellery, on the way <em>that girl</em> was wearing her hair, who was having sex with who - it was usual Miami fare. &nbsp;It was an auction, each of the pieces were up for sale for massive prices, and by the end of the night, with Miami's richest men drunk and their money-adoring lovers clinging to them, the pieces would no doubt sell for much more than their worth - and that, of course, was the intention.<br><br>But these sort of gatherings never just served their purpose; it was an unwritten rule that gorgeous, single women flitted around the place like flies to honey, hoping to pick out a single man from the crowd - and it just so happened that one of the most elligible bachelors in Miami was at the gallery that night. &nbsp;His name was ridiculous, but Mordecai Ginseed had made it big in the city, producing one of the most popular lines of jewellery, known for supplying some of the most perfect diamonds in the world, and appealing to the rich and famous by custom-designing lavish pieces. &nbsp;<br><br>But what made it even more impressive was that Ginseed was only thirty-two, and he was a single, well-built, very tall gentleman with the easy sort of smile that made girls weak in the knees. &nbsp;He was currently standing far away from the group of men, dressed impeccably in a perfectly-cut black tuxedo, but unlike the rest of them, he had avoided the tight, shiny Italian leather loafers that so many of them favoured and had traded it in for - high tops. &nbsp;Orange high tops.<br><br>He had been stationary for a long time now in front of a piece of surrealist art, and he was clutching his cowboy hat in his large, steady hands. &nbsp;A skeleton-thin bleach-blonde swayed her way up beside him, dressed in a pink mass that made her look like a shimmering cake; he could smell her perfume; J.Lo, the latest, just like all the other girls. &nbsp;She held her champagne flute delicately in one hand, supporting her elbow on her other hand, which was tucked carefully beneath her breasts,<br><br>"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she asked, her voice hushed as though in absolute awe, "It's such a bold statement on the nature of humanity, the joining and separation of colours indicating our process of prejudice and acceptance throughout history - it's so provocative, don't you think?"<br><br>There was a long pause, and then Ginseed slowly cocked his head to the right, and then the left, and then gently scratched the side of his slightly scruffy face,<br><br>"Well, miss, ah was really just tryin' t'figger out what it was," he said, and the blonde looked startled, "See, I'd kinda thought someone was pullin' my chain here, what with it bein' titled 'Daisy in the Wind' - but thanks for clearin' it up for me. &nbsp;Much appreciated."<br><br>He gave her a broad, good-natured smile then, and she blinked at him, momentarily speechless,<br><br>"Oh," she said finally, and looked around the room as though wondering if someone had set her up for this, "Um. &nbsp;You're welcome."<br><br>And she sauntered off, and Ginseed bit down on his bottom lip, his shoulders briefly shaking with a convulsion of laughter; he covered it with a polite cough, and took a mouthful of his whiskey.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Imogen</strong> on <strong>04-10-2008, 17:03:12</strong>
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				The new arrival knew how to turn heads. Tuxedo clad males and bejeweled women alike honed their gazes towards the young woman crossing the invisible threshold where the clammy end ended, and the gallery heat began. It was not that the woman’s dress was out of style, nor the lack of sparklies on her fingers that commanded their attention. It was the jubilant laughter the ravenhaired beauty shared with her host that turned jealous eyes their way. <br><br>Laughter was not uncommon in the Miami scene. Far from, it had become an art for the vultures circling the wealthiest men. Every woman had her repertoire of slow and seductive smiles, knowing chuckles and softly cooed encouragement. The kind of laughter emitted from the glorious creature who now greeted the hostess with a kiss-kiss to both cheeks was recognized as a threat by all would-be princesses hovering near their prey. <br><br>“I am so glad to be here.” Amanda breathed warmly to the bejeweled middle-aged hostess. From her, it sounded genuine. A message of delight conveyed in words and the warmth shimmering in the chocolate eyes. Amanda parted from her host and hostess after niceties that were drawn out with obvious pleasure from both sides. Until at long last, Amanda grinned at the duo. “I’m afraid bridge isn’t my thing, but thanks all the same. Should you be hosting a rafting event perhaps we can work something out. We’ll talk about it later. Promise.” <br><br>Amidst nervously giggling socialites and their elder companions, Amanda meandered through the crowd. She accepted a flute from a tray, and examined of the overpriced pieces. The statuette presented modern art and must have been created by one of the upper class junkies high society cultivated as if their desolate circumstance made up for lack of talent. Raven locks tumbled recklessly as Amanda craned her neck in a vain attempt to find some semblance of sanity in the haphazard pieces of clay. Her bare shoulder brushed the pedestal and the ten thousand dollar piece swayed dangerously.<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>04-10-2008, 20:06:29</strong>
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				Her laughter was almost musical, and it made every man in the room turn his head, including Ginseed, who looked over at Amanda for a moment; long enough to take in the sight of her, but not long enough to be impolite - a gentleman to the core, he turned his head back to the painting, and then blew out a sharp breath, a small 'whoo' escaping him.&nbsp; She was - something.&nbsp; She stood out amidst the other girls, a dark-haired beauty amidst the pallid blondes; she looked alive, real, where the others looked like wax models.<br><br>He swallowed down the rest of his whiskey, and it pleasantly burned its way down his throat before he put the glass onto the tray of a passing waitress; she paused to give him a brilliant smile, which he returned, giving her a small nod, his hat held near his heart.&nbsp; <br><br>"Evenin', Missus," he said.<br><br>"Good evening, Mr. Ginseed," she chirped, and he was moderately surprised to find she knew his name; he'd been an unknown for quite some time - while everyone recognized his products and his company, he had refrained from putting himself out there, giving only enough information to feed the press about the process and creation of the gems - but recently a tabloid reporter, one Eric Almeida, had become curious, and when Ginseed had refused to give any details on his private life, Almeida had started stalking him.&nbsp; He still didn't find out much about Ginseed, though he managed to snap a few candid photos that had put a face to the name, and now - now everyone seemed to know who he was.<br><br>"Can I get you another whiskey?" she asked, and he shook his head,<br><br>"I feel as though folks here're tryin' t'get me drunk; I've barely been here two hours and I'm almost three sheets to the wind," he said; it was a lie - he was no where near drunk, but she giggled anyways.<br><br>"Alright, but if you need - <em>anything</em> - you just let me know." she said, and threw him one fiery look over her shoulder before moving on.&nbsp; Ginseed rubbed at the back of his neck for a moment, and drew in a breath, letting it out as a small sigh - and then several things happened at once.<br><br>First there was the smell of perfume, but it was different than the others; something soft and subtle - or maybe it was shampoo.&nbsp; Then there was a shadow, wavering from side to side within his sight.&nbsp; <br><br>He turned, and he saw the small, vaguely man-shaped marble statue wobbling on it's elevated pedestal, the dark-haired woman just beside it; he moved forward as the thing leaned heavily off to the side and he plucked it out of the air before it got too near to the floor; for an instant, he stood there with the ugly thing in his hands, and then quietly and awkwardly set it back down onto its stand, doing his best to look casual about it.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Imogen</strong> on <strong>06-10-2008, 14:02:50</strong>
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				The woman’s eyes had gone wide, her left hand brushed his fingers when she –much too late- reached for the falling piece. “The world of art mourns.” Her voice was low and husky, breathless. The dark eyes playfully found his as she straightened and rose her glass in salute to Ginseed. “But you have the heartfelt thanks of my banker and my dignity. I salute your reflexes.” Her warm laughter sparkled, radiant and self-indulgent. <br><br>Her fingers lightly pressed down on his sleeve as she leaned in, her amused whisper commanding attention. “You’ve saved the day. That’s a Myers.” Lewis Myers, more handsome than talented has been the talk of the town for quite some time. The Miami scene had been thrilled with this new enfant terrible whose drug infested orgies had wagged quite a few jealous tongues. When the artist chose the patronage of tonight’s hostess rather than the charms of the bleach-blonde vultures, gossip had boomed once again and the price of his work tripled.<br><br>“If the damned piece weren’t so ugly, I’d buy it for you as a token of gratitude.” She confided laughingly. “Unless you have always dreamed of possessing a Myers, Mr….?” Amanda switched her glass to her left hand and extended the right to Mordecai. Her chin dipped as she regarded him with a mischievous smile. She left the question hanging for a second or two before her warm laughter bubbled, soft and intimate. “I’m faking”, she entrusted him, “But there’s no real, polite alternative in today’s world, Mr Ginseed. Have to ask before you can give. But there it is, I’ve been a good girl and asked. I am Amanda Lassiter.”<br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>06-10-2008, 15:06:45</strong>
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				Ginseed eyed the horrible piece of art one more time, and couldn't help but agree that the world of art would suffer for its existence; across the world, he imagined, sculptors wept.&nbsp; He turned his attentions to the dark-haired woman in front of him, and the way her fingers had pressed to the sleeve of his tuxedo, feather-light, and for an instant he thought he had run into a woman who had no idea who he was - but no, she was aware, and likely a Miami resident herself.&nbsp; He took her hand and shook it lightly, a crooked smile appearing on his boyishly handsome face,<br><br>"A 'Myers', huh?" he said, cocking his head to the side, and then back to her; he leaned in slightly then, as though to share some great secret with her, "Well, Ms. Lassiter, I don't like bein' one to judge on a man's character, but it looks to me as though our Mr. Myers may be usin' some alternate form'a inspiration."<br><br>He looked at the sculpture; if one squinted, then it would have the vague shape of a person, if that person had been bent into a pretzel.&nbsp; Myers must have been flying high when he made it,<br><br>"I don't believe a Myers'd 'xactly be my kinda sculpture," he said, and a woman near his elbow gave him a look that indicated his comment had displeased her, and Ginseed added without missing a beat, <br><br>"Though he's a well-respected artist within this community, I just can't help thinkin' I'd be better suited with something less, uh, surrealist." he said, and gave the woman an award-winning smile, which she returned, and continued along before Ginseed looked back to Amanda, "Maybe y'can be of assistance, Ms. Lassiter?&nbsp; I'd much appreciate your opinion on these pieces."
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Imogen</strong> on <strong>07-10-2008, 15:05:05</strong>
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				Ginseed’s words and smile had done their magic and amusement registered in various degrees of diplomacy upon Amanda’s expressive features. “My knowledge of art is limited, I’m afraid.” She warned, dealing him a brilliant smile that put his fabled diamonds to shame. Contradicting her words with willful charm, she pressed gentle fingertips to his biceps in a delicate nudge to the right. “Over there.. Near the entrance, just a quick look and forget. Don’t buy. They’re showcase pieces, rich color and low value. The kind the hostess would giggle over when a guest stumbles over them.” Her grin widened in shared mischief. “Unlike a Myers. But I promise, you’d be better off writing a check for the Salvation Army. Now…”<br><br>She tucked her arm through his and guided him through the throng of people towards the other side. Amanda’s perfume was a barely there hint of something mysterious and dark, layered underneath the fresh fragrance of her hair, and coaxed by warmth of her body so close to Ginseed as their progress breached the crowd. Sugared smiles and envied whispers followed in their wake. <br><br>“Here.” Amanda paused released her charge in front of a smaller work. Before them was a painting caught in an expensive, unobtrusive frame. The work depicted a woman, and behind her was the ocean. The waves and spray of water were lifelike; the artist had focused on the water and the skies and left the model’s features fairly rough. Blonde locks that rose and fell with the play of wind, the picture breathed an almost salty air. “Julian Summers.”&nbsp; Amanda explained. “It’s a gamble. Paintings aren’t such sellers in our digital world, but I happen to know the Museum of Modern Art considers acquiring one or more of his works.” She tilted her head and grinned at Ginseed. “No acquisition is ever without risk. Are you a gambler, Mr Ginseed?”<br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>07-10-2008, 17:51:57</strong>
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				He allowed himself to be shuttled around the displays by Amanda's gentle insistence, watching the whirl of colour that came with the people and the paintings around the gallery; he observed the paintings near the entryway, and moved away from them upon her prompting - it was clear enough that Ginseed was a fish out of water in the gallery.&nbsp; For a man whose company designed items known for their brilliance and beauty, he seemed oblivious to what made decent art - not that it mattered to anyone there, his presence was enough to cause a stir, but Amanda made it doubly so.<br><br>He cocked his head to the side when they stood in front of the painting by Summers,<br><br>"Hey, look at that," he said brightly, "I can tell what it is."<br><br>Another sour look from the same passing woman, but he ignored her this time, deciding it just wasn't worth it to try and talk his foot out of his mouth every time - he'd be talking all night if that was the case.&nbsp; <br><br>But the painting was the first in the gallery that he'd had any fondness for; there was, at least, the familiarity of the open water, it had been one of the few personal details mentioned in an article about him - he loved the water, and owned a fishing boat.&nbsp; Upon being asked why he had gone for something as modest as a fishing boat, he had explained that he wasn't a fan of yachts, that he felt pretentious just looking at them - so he'd gone for a high-powered fishing boat.&nbsp; On one occasion, a few yacht-dwelling residents had claimed to have seen Mordecai Ginseed buzzing in circles around their yacht, holding up a Jolly Roger flag and shouting like a pirate - he had denied it, but with a smile.<br><br>"I've no shame to say I'm somethin' of a bettin' man, Ms. Lassiter," he said, and his eyebrows rose when the waitress from earlier pressed another whiskey into his hand despite his earlier refusal; she threw another wink at him, as though having scented competition, and moved through the crowd, never going terribly far from them, "Seems Mr. Summers is somethin' of the underdog here, though.&nbsp; Realism in a surrealist gallery.&nbsp; Neat."
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Imogen</strong> on <strong>08-10-2008, 14:42:10</strong>
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				Amanda’s dark eyes slanted sideways towards the man by her side in curious, smiling scrutiny of his reaction. “Even the boundaries of art become corrupted in the prospect of money, Mr Ginseed”, she joked lightly. “But the loss of purity might as well be God sent. How else would we have discovered a gem like Mr Summers’ impression of freedom?” Amanda’s impish grin was turned towards the painting and she lifted a hand, gentle fingers hovering just shy of the varnish. “The ocean… Is there anything more beautiful or radiant?” She murmured contemplatively.<br><br>Briskly, she yanked her hand back and twisted her fingers at the small of her back like a little girl would.&nbsp; “Nevermind my rambling.” She apologized with a half-shy grin that curled the full lips in seductive languor. “In any case, if you are a betting man, this would be where I’d put my money on. Not cheap, but worth every dime.” <br><br>“And that, Mr Ginseed, is where I will have to say goodbye.” With an easy gesture towards the room, “I have claimed you far too long… “ Amanda laughed and shook her curls over her shoulder with an impetuous toss. “Although such courtesy wouldn’t have persuaded me from your company, I’m afraid I have twelve lil brats counting on my presence tomorrow morning. Or rather, the trip to the beach and ice cream after associated with that presence.” She winked playfully and extended her hand to be taken in his. “Goodnight, Mr Ginseed.”<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>08-10-2008, 14:57:44</strong>
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				Ginseed looked at her with raised eyebrows for a moment; he could understand the water being connected with freedom, rightly enough - there was a comfort in being out on the water that land just couldn't provide - it was why he'd chosen Miami when he could have gone anywhere in the world.&nbsp; It was always hot, and the water was always open, day or night; not to mention it was a prime area for his sort of business - Miami, New York, Los Angeles and California the best places for it.&nbsp; Paris and Hollywood were overrun with popular jewellers, and many weren't prepared to trade in their favoured line for a relatively new - albeit talented - arrival.<br><br>"Well, thank you for your help, Ms. Lassiter," Ginseed said, taking her hand when she extended it, and then lifting it, placing a gentlemanly kiss on it before releasing her and taking a step back; there was a strange mischief in his green eyes then, but there was no telling where it had come from, or why,<br><br>"You have a good night, don't let the little ones wear ya out too much tomorrow." he said. 
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Imogen</strong> on <strong>08-10-2008, 16:48:36</strong>
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				The children were grimy, little cherubs; darlings of less fortunate citizens of Miami. They were rude, dirty, loud and all in all adorable with their shy delight at the small presents she’d brought and the games played on the beach. She ran barefoot after them in a game of catch-em, playing until she fell upon the hot sand with ragged breaths and raised one hand in submission. ‘No more.” She laughed. <br><br>“The children love playing with you, Amanda.” Miss Cinders, the teacher, smiled. “Get some rest. We’ll prepare the picnic, it’s just a little unpacking anyway.” Miss Cinders patted Amanda’s shoulder affectionately and watched the children play.<br><br>Amanda chuckled lightheartedly, a sensual little sound. She stretched her long bare legs carelessly and dug her elbows in the sand, loving how its sunbaked warmth roughly writhed against her skin. Sunlight fell upon her face and eyes, and the dark lashes became heavy as she watched the waves roll towards the shore. <br><br>Ginseed had certainly lived up to expectations. Every bit the gentleman rumors had painted him to be, he had treated her cordially and politely. But had she captured his interest? She would have sworn the jeweler had given her more than a fair share of his attention, but had it been enough? Had she left too early? Maddening questions that dazzled her mind as her focus shifted, time and again to remember the smile upon his handsome face. It would do, she finally decided, and allowed herself to doze lazily in the afternoon sun.&nbsp; <br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>08-10-2008, 19:28:45</strong>
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				Ginseed sat quietly behind a large wooden desk beneath a single white light, a headband magnifier strapped on with the 10x magnifying loupe pulled down in front of his left eye, and the 20x over his right; his right hand was carefully holding a pair of tweezers that were clamped down on a small, glittering diamond, which he turned carefully beneath the magnification.&nbsp; He had been alone in the office for several hours at that point, but he couldn't have told anyone what time it was; he lost himself there from time to time, usually very early in the morning.&nbsp; On that particular day, he had shown up at his jewellery store - a massive black building that had been given the simple, stark white title 'Ice' - at three in the morning, before the sun had even considered rising over the horizon.&nbsp; <br><br>He didn't even look up from his work until the lights flicked on, seemingly by themselves, and he flinched as the overhead lights flooded in through the loupes, and Ginseed had to pause until his eyes adjusted.&nbsp; Standing in the doorway was a very, very small figure,<br><br>"Donnie," Ginseed said, blinking rapidly, his eyes ridiculously magnified by the eyeglasses; he waved a hand, gesturing to the chair on the other side of the desk.&nbsp; He heard a hearty laugh; Donnie was apparently amused by the bizarre sight - of course, Donnie himself was often considered a bizarre sight, aside from being a Cuban born with dwarfism, Donnie also had the tendency of wearing brightly coloured hawaiian shirts, and had tattooed his face, thus making him the most easily identifiable human being in Miami.&nbsp; Donnie hauled himself up into the chair, but he didn't sit, instead he stood on it, and leaned over to take a look at the small pile of diamonds,<br><br>"Nice stuff there, 'Cai, but I'm still not used to seeing you play with pretty things, ya know?" Donnie said, and Ginseed said back in the chair, and smiled just a little before flicking the loupes out of the way, "So you got to the art show, yesterday, right?"<br><br>"I never miss a good deal, but Roger Morse tried to outbid me on the urn.&nbsp; He's getting invasive." Ginseed said, and drew in a breath, "What's going on?&nbsp; Not that I don't enjoy your company, but we don't see eachother often for a reason."<br><br>"Yeah.&nbsp; Well," Donnie said, scratching behind his ear, "Look, there's been a hitch."<br><br>"A hitch?&nbsp; What kind of hitch are we talking about here?"<br><br>"The kind you really, really hate."<br><br>"Alright," Ginseed said, rubbing at the bridge of his nose, "Give me a name.&nbsp; I'll talk to him."<br><br>"It's been a while since you done a lot of talking, 'Cai, you sure -"<br><br>"I'll talk to him." Ginseed repeated, "It's been a while, but there are some things you just don't forget how to do."<br><br>"Trent Morrison.&nbsp; New guy."<br><br>"Thanks for letting me know, Donnie." Ginseed said, and Donnie nodded, hopping down from the chair, "I'll see you on the boat in a few weeks."<br><br>Donnie left, and Ginseed sat back in his seat, and stayed in the office until 7 a.m. rolled around and the store's staff began to arrive, including Ginseed's own personal secretary; she was a smallish woman of Irish-Korean descent, and she was currently dressed in a violently purple skirt suit.&nbsp; <br><br>"What wrong with you?" she asked loudly as she walked into the office, "You call so late, you ask me to find you <em>magician</em> for today?"<br><br>"Good mornin' to you too, Missus Kim."<br><br>"Oh stop with Southern bullshit." she said, "Why you need magician on the <em>beach</em>?"<br><br>Ginseed just offered a slow smile, and Ms. Kim rolled her eyes.<br><br>And, it was just as Amanda was settling herself on the beach, and as the picnic was being unpacked, that a flamboyantly dressed magician triapsed his way across the sand towards the children, hauling along his case of magic tricks, the feathers in his top hat shifting in the hot Miami breeze,<br><br>"Ms. Lassiter?" he asked, shuffling up beside her, peering down at her, "I'm Mr. Magnifico - I'm here to do a show for the kids."
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Imogen</strong> on <strong>09-10-2008, 20:44:59</strong>
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				“Ohhhh.. Look!” The children raced towards Magnifico, swarming the magician with shouts of excitement. They gawked at his bag of tricks and hat with the feathers fluttering irresistibly in the hot breeze.<br><br>“I saw him first!”<br><br>“No, I did!”<br><br>“My dad says it’s all fake!” One boy at the back yelled, angry at not having been the first to spot the magician.<br><br>“Shhh!” The others would have none of it and shushed the perpetrator with hisses and frowns. <br><br>Amanda laughed and extended a warm, sun and sand kissed hand to Mr Magnifico. “It’s a pleasure having you, Sir. And I think the children agree with me.” She looked towards the ragtag bunch dancing around the man. “Don’t you, guys?” A loud cheer answered Amanda’s question and she grinned widely. “That settles it, I’d say.”<br><br>“Alright children. Everyone sit down so we all can watch the show. Mickey, stop pushing your little brother.” With a bit of final shoving and pushing amongst each other the kids fell in line, settling themselves down on the sand. All eyes turned to Mr Magnifico. Even Mickey had ceased pestering Nigel and looked on with sudden, intense silence.<br><br>Mrs Cinders poured lemonade in small plastic cups which Amanda distributed amongst the children. “You’re a gem, Amanda.” The teacher whispered while Mr Magnifico prepared. Amanda shook her head laughingly. “I am as surprised as you are, Miss Cinders.” She confessed. “But I might know who is responsible.” <br><br>“You better thank him then, dearie.” Not so young Miss Cinders smelled romance and she eyed her raven haired companion with a knowing smile. “I am sure he’d like that”, she added and Amanda had the decency to blush. <br><br>**<br><br>It was with that image in mind that Amanda dialled the number that had been labelled "Ginseed" on the internet. The sun had set and the children had been delivered to their parents. The bus had been filled with excitement and Magnifico had been the hero of the day. Mickey sturdily told his father that he wasn't going to be fire brigade after all. He'd become a magician! Nigel hummed quietly and treasured the feather he'd been able to snatch from Magnifico's hat.<br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>09-10-2008, 23:10:31</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Around noon, Ginseed left his store; he drove a Smart Car - it was small, simple, and so low-key that it made most of his staff roll their eyes - the man was a multi-billionaire and he drove a bloody Smart Car.&nbsp; He had explained to them that, while nice, the lambourghinis and aston-martins of the world just weren't efficient; the cost of gas was rising and the emissions released by custom and expensive vehicles was damn near irresponsible.&nbsp; He had also explained that it was his duty as a dedicated American citizen to do everything in his power to lower the strain his own livelihood had on the eco-system.<br><br>Ms. Kim had rolled her eyes at him and lit up a cigarette.<br><br>The little black car buzzed its way through Miami with incredible efficiency, dodging between motorists, taking up a ridiculously small space on the road; it looked stupid, sure, Ginseed would be the first to admit it, but the thing was great for the crowded streets.&nbsp; He had to take a lot of side streets and drive pretty far out into the slums, but eventually he ended up at the storage lockers; huge crates that had been rented out by various residents - some of them had furniture, some of them had grow-ops.<br><br>He pulled a key out and made his way to number 42, unlocking it and stepping inside; he flicked a lightswitch on, and his blackberry rang.&nbsp; He hated the damn thing, but Ms. Kim had insisted he at least have a good cell phone to keep his schedule in order - even though that was technically her job, not the phone's.&nbsp; <br><br>He answered as he crossed the room, and he shuffled through a small pile of passports,<br><br>"Hullo?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Imogen</strong> on <strong>10-10-2008, 13:03:54</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Rich plush pillows had been tossed abundance, covering the divan in reckless abandon. Their fluffed softness supported Amanda’s delicious curves just so that her naked limbs glistened in the dim lights from atmospheric lightning hidden away discretely in the ceiling. Shower damp curls sprawled over the velvet support, a large towel wrapped around her body provided a modicum of modesty. Setting was everything when you performed. Success had to be courted, drawn in inevitability.. She’d gone as far as to open the bottle of white Bourgogne she’d saved for a special occasion. Amanda gently swirled the strong, heady wine in its crystal goblet and indulged in a generous mouthful as she raised the phone to her ear. She swallowed and curled a lazy smile of triumph when Ginseed’s voice came through.<br><br>“Hullo to you too.” She’d always known the power of her voice and its charm was best deployed when little worked to distract the other side. Fancying him at home with a shower nearby, Amanda had no trouble at all to let a sultry undertone slip into that warm, spontaneous laughter she’d patented. “You are a treasure, Mr Ginseed! I don't know what to tell you.” She didn’t let him speak, enthusiasm bubbled in her voice as she dived on with that reckless cheer he’d come to expect. “The children were thrilled! They -loved- it. When Magnifico pulled out that snake, they thought it was real and Miss Cinders screamed.” Her words easily shared the joy of the children, bringing their happiness to life for their benefactor.<br><br>“They insist I thank you. And I can’t disappoint them, now can I?&nbsp; So, how would you feel about a late dinner? Or drinks for two perhaps? I know this Mexican restaurant. Nothing fancy, but the food is sinful. They have a wicked Sangria and tapas that, I swear, have no morals at all.” Amanda paused, dark eyes narrowed at the glass raised to the light. She did not have to act at all to sound breathlessly happy at her next question. The words tumbled in a natural, spontaneous manner that surprised even her. “What do you say, Mr Ginseed? Sound like a plan?”<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>10-10-2008, 13:30:16</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Ginseed held the phone between his shoulder and jaw while his hands busied themselves with the pile of passports; he flipped through them and plucked a particular one out, pocketing it, before putting the pile back into the safe he kept on the floor.&nbsp; He also pulled out a small pile of bills - foreign currency - and tucked them away as well.&nbsp; <br><br>"Well, Ms. Lassiter," he said brightly, moving to the far wall; he unlocked another cupboard, one that was lined with knives of varying size and sharpness - he picked out one that looked like it could skin a crocodile, looking at it with fondness, the flourescent light glinting off it's surface; he shook his head then, and put it back.&nbsp; Instead, he pulled a smaller, slim one, "Nice to hear your cheery voice."<br><br>He couldn't deny he'd sent the magician; there was no point anyways - she would know, she had told him the previous night that she was going to be on the beach, and he'd taken advantage of the knowledge by sending Magnifico there.&nbsp; There was, of course, a lot of beach in Miami, but it hadn't been difficult to track her down, along with a dozen kids - as it turned out, she worked with the children of the less fortunate in Miami,<br><br>"You're already dedicatin' your time to the kids here, it's a great thing y'do," he said, "I'm just pleased they enjoyed it - I, uh, hope Missus Cinders didn't get too much of a fright, Magnifico likes those darn rubber snakes a mite."<br><br>He switched the blackberry to the other shoulder, pulling out a small glass bottle filled with clear fluid, and a fresh, packaged syringe.&nbsp; He glanced at his watch; he would have enough time to get home for a few minutes before heading out again,<br><br>"You know, immoral Tapas sound great," he said, perfectly agreeable, "An' I haven't had Sangria in years, not since I left Houston - I think i'll take you up on that.&nbsp; What time would y'like t'meet, Ms. Lassiter?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Imogen</strong> on <strong>12-10-2008, 18:14:30</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				“Miss Cinders survived her encounter with a vicious rubber snake,” She teased on a breath of remembered laughter. “Full reports over tapas.” Amanda promised. They agreed that nine thirty would be the perfect hour to quench the Miami heat with Mexican food and a carafe of cool sangria.<br><br>Amanda dressed casual in an elegant dress of rich blue. Its skirt swirled over shapely thighs in late summer tease. High heels and a mere string of Venetian beads completed the woman’s ensemble. Scent of Donna Karan’s Dark Cashmere, hinted at in the tropical breeze. Only five minutes after the appointed time, she paid the cab driver and stepped into the Cabin.<br><br>The restaurant was one of popular middle class joints where prosaic electric lighting illuminated sturdy wooden tables with remarkably comfortable chairs. Reproductions of hot chili prints lined the lime dyed walls. The guitarist on stage played a soft, cheerful song in a pleasant lazy rhythm that added a relaxed feel to the rather modern varnish.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>12-10-2008, 18:49:38</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Ginseed hung up after they had arranged their meeting, and he stood there for a long moment in the storage crate, his tongue between his teeth, and he looked at the phone, gave a small 'hm' and pocketed it before heading home.&nbsp; His villa was located on private beachfront, and though it didn't appear outwardly extravagant, it was no where near as modest as his car and boat - the place was built with a large, heavily slanting pale roof, with three floors and an underground garage.&nbsp; The front of the home was built with wide windows that let the sunlight in, a newly built porch, a balcony, and a greenhouse in the sideyard.<br><br>The inside was all hardwood floors, spiral staircases, and tasteful decorations that hinted at a man who had lived a memorable life in the South, but without any personal photos, memos, or certificates - but in Ginseed's opinion, the basement was the important part.&nbsp; Access to the basement required a security code, and behind the heavy steel door were three separate walk-in safes.&nbsp; Ginseed dissappeared for a few minutes to put away the things he had taken from the storage container, and went upstairs to change.<br><br>He arrived early at the restaurant; he had traded in his usual suit for a dark pair of jeans and a pink polo shirt - it was something that most guys wouldn't even think about wearing, but Ginseed's obvious biceps made it abundantly clear that real men wore pink.&nbsp; In place of the usual polo horse decal on the shirt, was a small ribbon that indicated he was wearing it for cancer survivors; he was wearing a black sports jacket over top of it, and even with the usual orange high tops adorning his big feet, and his sandy brown hair ruffled, he managed to make the outfit look formal.<br><br>It was easy to spot Amanda in the crowd; the sway of her hips was everything he needed to find her, and the jewel blue of her dress stood out amongst the pastels and flowers that the rest of the women in Miami seemed to favour.&nbsp; <br><br>"Ms. Lassiter," he said, standing at the table and pulling out a chair for her when she arrived, "How're you doin' tonight?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Imogen</strong> on <strong>12-10-2008, 21:10:54</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Amanda had combed those raven curls to a lustrous shine and they swayed in merry abandon when she took her seat and Mordecai tucked her chair in. “Just great, I don’t think I have laughed this much all year.” She confided with that disarming enthusiasm that added charm and sparkle to all her words and actions. Carefully, she unfolded a slightly dirty napkin on the table. Grains of sand rolled from the sides, forming miniature piles upon the table. And there, carefully packed within that plain paper napkin lay several shells, still whole and gleaming. “From the boys”, Amanda said casually, watching his expression as if daring him to mock the children’s gift. “They all agreed these were the best.” She pushed the small treasure towards him, offering the man an oddly shy smile. <br><br>Slender fingers toyed with the string of Venetian beads, sidelong glance towards the bar brought a waitress over. Either that, or Ginseed’s charismatic presence prompted the voluptuous redhead to his side. The waitress handed out the menu’s and flipped a small note block to a fresh page. “Would you like something to drink, Sir?” <br><br>The distraction provided Amanda with the much needed opportunity to catch her breath. His eyes sparkled so brightly, with a joy of life that rivaled her own, and that shirt… Only a man like Mordecai Ginseed could pull off wearing pink and still exude a virility that made her think of all those pleasurable things men could do to women. His mouth was perfect, with well defined lips designed to take the lead in a kiss. <br><br>She caught herself, before warm attention could turn to staring and slanted those soulful eyes towards the waitress. “Their Sangria is something else.” With ample time to recover, Amanda had found her usual casual charm, and the laughing eyes beckoned Mordecai to the path of sin.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>12-10-2008, 21:41:46</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Ginseed found himself watching the way the curls of Amanda's hair shifted; a lot of men around Miami favoured the white and strawberry blondes, possibly because they were rare due to South Beach being populated primarily by Cubans and Latinos - but Ginseed had a weakness for dark-haired women, the brunettes and the onyx-tressed beauties.&nbsp; There was always something seductive, and Amanda in particular had an almost playful air about her that he couldn't help but find sexy; he made a very strong and successful effort not to stare, or be too obvious.<br><br>His eyebrows rose when she pushed the small bundle of shells across the table, and he gingerly picked one up in his big hand, between his thumb and forefinger, with the delicate touch of one who is used to handling precious items - he treated the shell as if it was one of his famed gems,<br><br>"Well, I happen to agree with 'em," Ginseed said finally, offering up his easy smile, meeting her eyes, "These are the best ones."<br><br>The waitress sauntered up beside the table then, the walk of a woman who enjoys knowing she's being watched, and he looked up at her, his expression pleasant,<br><br>"Well, April," he said, and he hadn't even obviously looked at her nametag, "I think we've made a unanimous decision on Sangria - I hear it's some of the best in Miami."<br><br>He looked to Amanda,<br><br>"So long as you don't mind my assumin'?" he added, toying thoughtfully with one of the shells, the pads of his fingers exploring the ridges and stripes on them; it was clear already that Ginseed was very tactile, but then, he'd always worked with his hands.&nbsp; <br><br>April headed away to get their drinks, and Ginseed turned his attentions onto Amanda, and the lit candle between them highlighted the flecks of gold in his eyes while it highlighted the varying shades in Amanda's hair - she was quite a sight by candlelight, sunlight, or, he suspected, moonlight.&nbsp; <br><br>"So how long've you been in Miami, Ms. Lassiter?" he asked.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Imogen</strong> on <strong>13-10-2008, 21:58:47</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				“I’m glad you approve.” Ginseed’s eyes were especially alluring in candle light, drawing her gaze time and again. His handling of the little ‘gems’ had an oddly endearing quality. It was impossible not to smile and so she did, brightly and without reservation, meeting his eyes when his gaze sought hers. Something was shared in that moment, of separate value to each. Amanda locked the memory in heart and mind, and fought against the all too obvious glow radiating from those dark windows of her soul. <br><br>“You won’t be disappointed”, Amanda commented once the waitress had disappeared to a neighbouring table, working her charms on a duo of male guests. “Miami?” She pondered, counting the days, months, years. “That’d be… two years or so. I don’t visit the parties very much. Between work and a couple of projects, the days are just too short for that sort of thing. Pleasant, but vain...” Small white teeth worried her bottom lip in shy reluctance as she issued a light laugh. “I shouldn’t have said that. It’s probably part of your work. To see and be seen by potential customers.” <br><br>April returned, smiling widely as she set a carafe and two glasses on the table. “There you are, Mr Ginseed. If you are ready to order, I am only a whistle away.” The waitress winked prettily and sashayed towards the counter. <br><br>Amanda’s amused smile followed April in idle hope the girl would lose one of those ridiculously fake, mascara burdened lashes. “My treat, Mr Ginseed.” She announced pertly and poured a glass for each. <br><br>“A toast.” She mused. “There has to be a toast, and I shall be foregoing originality for sake of old and proven. Here’s to Mordecai Ginseed and good ideas that make us smile. May they never run out.”<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>13-10-2008, 22:55:58</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"No, no," Ginseed said, the right side of his mouth twitching upwards in a sort of facial shrug, flipping one shell over his fingers like a coin, "No offense taken, Ms. Lassiter - you're right, the crowds I cater to tend t'be, ah, high-maintenance.&nbsp; Conversation is never exactly deep durin' those events, I think in part 'cause of all the champagne they tend to have around; it's usually small talk about the weather, the latest diet fad, celebrities - the last two usually goin' hand-in-hand."<br><br>Another gentile smile at the waitress to acknowledge her, and while men around the restaurant turned to stare at the beautiful redhead, Ginseed looked back to Amanda, accepting the drink with a small smile; he raised his glass with her, and his eyebrows rose at the toast,<br><br>"An' here's t'stuffy art shows," he said, gently clicking his glass against hers, "Turns out they occasionally make for good company."<br><br>His eyes smiled at her over the glass, and he looked down at the sangria for a moment, <br><br>"That is some damn good Sangria." he said, setting the glass down, his fingers swiping at the moisture on the glass; it seemed that he had trouble holding his hands still for any length of time, "So two years in Miami, Ms. Lassiter?&nbsp; If you don't mind my askin', what 'caused the change?"<br><br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Imogen</strong> on <strong>14-10-2008, 12:46:12</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The shell’s smooth surface glistened in the candlelight, alluring and vulnerable as it tumbled, directed by Ginseed’s deft fingers. He reminded her of the magician on the beach, the way his hands moved. Quick and sure. But the magician’s practiced skill had not awakened butterflies in her stomach. They had not held her eyes like Mordecai’s heedless toying. It would be so easy, so very easy to imagine where those hands might wander… <br><br>Amanda swallowed, sangria warmed here throat. He was right, it was damn good Sangria. That was why she’d chosen this place. The fruity liquor had a way of warming a man, and woman as she now lamented, more than any other drink she knew. Exquisite champagnes had their use, but their sparkle was cold, sparkly and expensive like the diamonds Ginseed handled every day.<br><br><em>~ A small door. Steel walls and a touchpad. And beyond that door, there would be black velvet and upon that dark cloth… She pictured radiance, illuminated by halogen lighting. ~</em><br><br>“Boredom, I’m afraid.” The alcohol warmed her from within, conjuring a healthy glow upon the raven beauty’s cheeks. Her eyes shone and she emphasized her story with vivacious little gestures. “I first came here after the tornado season. The spirit of the people here; their laughter and fears. It drew me. I stayed and shot them… On film, I mean. And I might have left after, but then I met Miss Cinders.” She laughed, fondly. “but that is another story entirely.” <br><br>She spooned a wedge of liquor soaked pineapple into her mouth and raised her dark eyed gaze at Mordecai. <br><br>“Your turn, Mr Ginseed. What has driven you to handling precious jewels? How did you discover your talent?” She poised forward slightly, and folded her arms under her breasts, quite keenly aware of the effects of flickering candle light over her alluringly soft, silken flesh.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>14-10-2008, 13:59:19</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Miami's a good place to go if you're bored," Ginseed conceeded, "Y'can find pretty much anything 'round here - some of which still surprises me."<br><br>He was likely referring to the many clubs that Miami favoured - BDSM, latex, and fetish clubs; clubs dedicated to pouring honey on women, blood bars, ecstasy rave halls, blacklights and pulsing techno music.&nbsp; It was all fairly bizarre to Ginseed, who preferred to stay far away from those places, when he could manage it - there had been a few times he'd had to deal with clubs, but not because he wanted to be there, sometimes business trips took him to - interesting locations.<br><br>He seemed to freeze for just an instant when she put the pineapple in her mouth, and then he shook it off, blinking hard, getting his concentration back,<br><br>"I guess you could say I just have a penchant for pretty things," Ginseed said, remembering Donnie's words earlier, "I - honestly can't say what drew me to it, Ms. Lassiter - my father was an oil merchant in Houston and my mum was a School Teacher from Georgia - s'about as stereotypical Southern as a family can get.&nbsp; I didn't think much of the oil business m'afraid - just not my forte, y'have to be ruthless t'be in the fuel business an' I guess I'm more of a lover n'a fighter."<br><br>He could see the way the light was hitting her skin; he forced himself not to look down,<br><br>"Came t'Miami t'see a friend a'mine ten years ago an' just never turned back."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Imogen</strong> on <strong>15-10-2008, 20:08:23</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				“More of a lover than a ….” Brown eyes narrowed playfully. A bemused shake of her head sent a ripple through the luscious curls, raven tendrils darting over the flesh of shoulder and collarbone in stunning contrast. This time Amanda did not bother hiding the sudden need for a drink and indulged in a thirsty gulp. Her lips dewed with fruity wine curved into radiance, a flash of whites showed pleasure in taste and quenching of her thirst. “Said the man working with the hardest materials on earth. Or pardon me, I should say ‘natural’ material.” She chuckled. “But I wager their refinement takes more than raw strength, rather precision, skill and an endless patience?”<br><br>She refilled their glasses and distributed the remaining chunks of fruit over their glasses. Glad to rest her eyes on some target that was not the embodiment of masculine virility, Amanda dedicated a little more devotion to the task than strictly necessary. Her cheeks colored rosily perhaps from the lingering Miami warmth. If anything, it added to the gypsy allure of the woman, and her glittering eyes emphasized that impression. <br><br>April came to their table, armed with notepad and pencil, and an expectant look at Ginseed. “Are you ready to order, Sir? Or shall I come back later?” <br><br>Amanda breathed a soft sigh and leaned back in her seat, her slender, unadorned fingers toying with the menu. The waitress had come at the right time, and Amanda considered adding a percentage to her tip afterwards. “Have you eaten yet?” She inquired warmly. “If you only wish a snack, I could recommend the tapas.<br><br>“And if you are hungry, I’d say –more- tapas. That is, if you have the time. That’s the catch with those small bites. They’re gorgeous but devouring is slow.” She laughed impishly, “I’d hate to make a hungry man wait.”<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>15-10-2008, 20:25:59</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Ginseed seemed to consider this for a moment, <br><br>"Well, the diamond industry at its core, at the mining stage, is more cut-throat, to be certain," Ginseed said, "And at the back of your mind, there's always the risk of getting an import of blood diamonds - so y'get leery of taking any shipments from South Africa, but aside from Russia, that's where the industry's been booming in recent years."<br><br>Ginseed watched as she poured them both fresh glasses of the Sangria, and he took note of her sudden reluctance to make eye contact, or really look up from what she was doing; he smiled just a little to himself,<br><br>"So there's more to it, an' havin' a good staff behind ya - that y'can trust - is always important."<br><br>April was back, and she was asking for their orders,<br><br>"Well, I'm gonna have t'take her suggestion again, and go with the tapas," Ginseed said brightly, "She's our expert for the evenin'."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Imogen</strong> on <strong>16-10-2008, 12:43:46</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				“I had seen the movie, but it’s too easy to forget the story was based on hard, cold facts. We are trained to remember the glorious movie posters of Leonardo diCaprio against an exciting background.” She shivered and stared at her drink. “I am glad you aren’t one of them, Mr Ginseed… One of those who buy those tainted stones… even now.” Her hand reached for his, a spontaneous reassuring contact. The warm pressure of her fingers found his restless touch for a short moment as she smiled. <br><br>The Tapas were served and April made quite a few trips back and forth to set out all the dishes. There were olives, sardines, marinated potatoes in a scalding hot sauce, crab salad, merquez and wedges of Spanish cheese, warm ham in a glazing, shrimps dashed with a bit of chili and of course a basket with bread and a bowl of aioli. And April was not even finished. Little bowls and plates were moved to make room for more and at long last, the table was laden with delicious smelling food. <br><br>Amanda scooped some slices of ham on her plate and, daringly, a potato dripping in the famous salsa verde. “Do you have many people working for you, Mr Ginseed?” She dipped a chunk of bread in the aioli and licked the garlic sauce from her thumb when a few droplets dripped from the bread.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>16-10-2008, 13:07:30</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Ginseed's eyebrows rose,<br><br>"They made a movie about it?" he asked, sounding genuinely surprised; apparently he didn't get out for much, beyond business trips.&nbsp; His eyes fell to her hand, where it was making contact with his wrist, and he looked back up at her, returning the small smile, allowing the pads of his fingers to gently stroke once across her palm, a small, hot touch in an area filled with nerve endings, "I'm no boy scout, Ms. Lassiter, but some morals are neccessary, even in this business - I was in the Republic of the Congo, after Zaire, a few years back, saw some'a the damage.&nbsp; It - wasn't pleasant."<br><br>It was the kids.&nbsp; It always bothered him when kids were involved.&nbsp; <br><br>And then April had returned, bringing the Tapas to the table; it was an enormous, varying spread of food, and the first thing Ginseed took was some of the spiced shrimp; seafood was a Miami staple; he seemed to consider her question for a moment,<br><br>"Got a few - 'bout five in the store, been with me for a few years now, includin' my secretary; she's got a bit of attitude, Ms. Lassiter, but she gets the job done." he said, "Few others workin' for me in shipment and security."<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Imogen</strong> on <strong>16-10-2008, 13:50:14</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				&nbsp;“I like her already”, Amanda laughed and raised her glass to the absent secretary. Her hand tingled where his fingers had touched. The memory of his caress lingered and the Sangria didn’t help, curling her smile with sensual, indolent pleasure. <br><br>Congo? Zaire? Wait… What? Their significance seeped through the drowsy layers of her mind but slowly. Her beautiful eyes widened and she leaned forward in rapt attention. “And when you aren’t working? How does Mr Mordecai Ginseed spend his time?” She inquired. “Aside from prowling the galleries, scouring for modern art and giving a bunch of children the time of their life?” She joked. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>16-10-2008, 14:02:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He could see the Sangria was having an effect on Amanda, judging by the sleepiness of her eyes, the relaxation in her shoulders, and the slightest flush on her face; she seemed to take interested in his mention of Congo, and he considered it was possible that Amanda was a woman interested in travel.&nbsp; He stored away the bit of information for later use, <br><br>"Ah, well," Ginseed said, rubbing at the back of his neck for a moment, "I'm a pretty low key guy; I'm not really much of a party person - I guess Miami's not the best place for that, but I like the open water and the beach.&nbsp; Fishing's always a nice getaway, and when the wind's good I like kiteboarding.&nbsp; Used to go off-roading, too, but Miami's not real good for that."<br><br>He took a drink of his sangria; it was sweet and fruity, with only the very distant burn of alcohol that came with the red wine in the drink,<br><br>"Sometimes I take off in the plane for the fun of it, head off somewhere - got my pilot's license back in Air Cadets when I was a kid, an' I prefer to fly the plane - unless I've got company on board, of course." he said.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Imogen</strong> on <strong>16-10-2008, 14:25:37</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				“Flying…” She marveled quietly. “Much like sailing, both hold the illusion of total freedom. Just pack, or not even that. Grab a toothbrush and go, enjoy the travel. That’s the difference, I guess. Where on the ocean, nothing matters but the sea and simply being there, I’d imagine that in a plane, the destination is as important as the sheer joy of flying.” <br><br>Amanda helped herself to a few of the merguez and enjoyed the meal with careless disdain for the stunning amount of calories the spicy treats contained. As with all things she had done, there was a joie de vivre in her actions that breathed life in the smallest gesture. “Off-roading? Here?” She chuckled. “Either too damp or too cultivated. The swamp doesn’t make for good exploring, except by boat and all the rest are packed with villa’s and fenced off. But the place is good for fishing and the surf’s nothing to complain about.” Amanda laughed and waved her spoon in emphasis of her words, “except when you’re a beginner. I’ve drowned five of my nine lives here on the coast before I learned to ride the waves. Should’ve seen me that first time standing, proud as punch” Her laughter shared easily and sparkling conversation flew back and forth. <br><br>Inevitably the moment came where they could not eat anymore despite the tempting, tantalizing new snacks April provided and Amanda requested the bill. Evening passed, even such as this, spent in a Mexican Restaurant with a man who turned her knees to jelly with a simple caress of her palm. “I’ve had a wonderful night.” She sighed, reluctantly guiding the evening to its close.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>16-10-2008, 14:37:10</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He grinned at the thought of Amanda repeatedly toppling over in the wake, soaked and stubbornly getting back up on the board no matter how ridiculous it looked; surfing wasn't easy, and he had to agree that the first few times could be trying - a lot of people gave up after they'd fallen off,<br><br>"Yeah, gotta be careful about the swamps, my place isn't far from 'gator alley - gotta be careful about not walkin' too far off, they get pretty territorial.&nbsp; S'been a number of times I get up in the mornin' and find one near my yard, seems t'be the same big guy comin' back each time, like he's hopin' for a meal," he said, "I try'n keep my boat out of their turf, gotta give some respect to the predators."<br><br>When the end rolled around and Amanda signalled for the bill, April came back to hand them the receipt - which showed that the meal had already been paid for.&nbsp; Openly, April handed Ginseed's credit card back to him, which he must have slipped to her at some point during their earlier exchange, possibly when he'd first arrived; he did his best to guiltily avoid Amanda's eyes right then - she'd said it was her treat, of course, but old habits died hard.<br><br>"It's been a pleasure meeting with you, Ms. Lassiter," he said, giving an awkward, boyish smile that indicated he hoped she wasn't annoyed with him.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Imogen</strong> on <strong>16-10-2008, 15:06:23</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Amanda dealt him a stern glance. One that could make a man feel like a boy. And just like a boy, he avoided direct eye contact. She chuckled fondly and rose from her seat. Her hand fell to his shoulder and soft lips found his cheek in a kiss that smelled of aioli, sangria and that intoxicating, subtle scent that was Amanda’s own. “Thank you”, she breathed, pulling away before the kiss would become more than a sweet, flirtatious gesture between friends. White teeth grazed her bottom lip as she looked away. “I am glad you enjoyed, Mr Ginseed. It was the least I could do, and my pleasure.” <br><br>A finger tip came to his lips as she glanced left and right guiltily. She rose to tiptoe and whispered, ever that trace of laughter in her voice. “The boys will be thrilled. They said you wouldn’t allow me to pay. They’ve got quite the opinion of you, Mr Ginseed.” A grin and a wink formed her farewell, and she left, pausing at the door for a friendly, cordial wave to April and a smile to Mordecai. Then the door fell shut, and Amanda walked down the street, hailing a taxi for the ride home.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>16-10-2008, 15:17:06</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He stood when Amanda did, still shyly avoiding her eyes when he glimpsed the stern look; for a guy so tall and masculine, he pulled off the sheepish expression flawlessly.&nbsp; He looked at her when she put her hand on his shoulder, and his eyebrows rose when her mouth pressed to his cheek, and the warmth of her lips lingered in that spot for a long moment after, along with the scent of her perfume.<br><br>He was about to speak, but then he felt her finger press lightly to his lips, effectively quieting him; he actually blushed when her breath grazed against his ear, and he stood there for a minute or two after she'd left, rubbing awkwardly at the side of his neck, eyes on the door.&nbsp; He drew in a breath, and then released it softly, blinking hard and trying to shake it off; it had been a while since he'd been out with a woman, and particularly a woman like Amanda.<br><br>He headed out to his car, and he began down the street, furrowing his brows when he saw Amanda waiting on the sidewalk for a taxi; the silly little smart car pulled up near her, and he peered out at her, <br><br>"Did you want a ride home, Ms. Lassiter?" he asked, and then seemed to realize the implications, and hesitated, adding, "Just - if you'd like.&nbsp; I'd just hate for you to be waitin' out here at night for a taxi."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Imogen</strong> on <strong>17-10-2008, 20:40:03</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<br>Of course she’d seen the little car pull up, but Amanda had not really paid attention to the tiny vehicle until Ginseed’s voice called out to her. She looked down the street, but the traffic rolled past and only that impossible small car had stopped. He’d come after her. That had been calculated. Everything had been planned. Everything! Except that car…<br><br>“A …Smart.” She breathed, desperately fighting the giggles bubbling up. So much for her fantasies of an artful seduction on the backseat of a limousine. Her bottom lip quivered and she fought it with a biting down of small white teeth. It was a hopeless battle. Moments later her hearty laughter rolled down the street, turning the heads of late pedestrians. She’d look odd, probably, with that blue dress caressing her svelte physique in a seductive rustle of silk and linen, looking like she’d accept a ride in the tiniest car in Miami Beach. Bar the golf carts, but somehow those seemed less out of place than Mordecai Smart.<br><br>Shamelessly enjoying the moment, Amanda opened the door and folded herself into the passenger seat. “Mr Ginseed..” She hiccupped delightedly. “You are one of a kind.”<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>18-10-2008, 15:40:20</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Ginseed watched as the recognition appeared on Amanda's face, and another of those warm, easy smiles appeared on his face as he realized what she was laughing at - he couldn't exactly blame her, the thing looked ridiculous, and he was sure that most people expected him to be driving something - prettier.&nbsp; The Smart Car itself wasn't an inexpensive vehicle, quite the opposite, purchasing one was pricey for a tiny car, but it was fuel efficient, quiet, and speedy.<br><br>He had other cars.<br><br>But they had specific purposes.<br><br>"So i've heard, I'm like a little snowflake," Ginseed said brightly, playfully, his eyebrows raising as he watched her climb into the car - it wasn't cramped, it was enough space for two people, but no more than that, "I figured if I was going to get myself a car, may as well get something I can drive under other cars with.&nbsp; Makes getting through traffic a cinch anyways.&nbsp; Where to, Ms. Lassiter?"<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Imogen</strong> on <strong>19-10-2008, 18:20:41</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				“Heh.” She mused. “I could write a story ‘bout that. A lil snowflake in Miami. There’s an adventure right there.” Her quick mind was already weaving the tale. “It would have to escape to colder climates before…” One look at Ginseed’s masculine good looks quirked a grimace to the full lips. “Uhm... Right, I should save –that- one for the kids.” She laughed easily and admired the car’s interior. Her mass of raven hair danced in wild abandon as she turned her head this way and that, pulled the mirror down and tested how far she could stretch her legs with playful curiosity. “Amazing! You wouldn’t guess from the outside.” She commented, rather pleased with her discoveries. “Who’d have thought there’d be this much space!”<br><br>Amanda gave him the address. Her directions guided them away from the city centre, towards the north where several blocks of apartments were arranged in an eye pleasing fashion. Palm trees lined the grassy lawns and wide, well lit pavement bordered the spacious roads. A bright tricycle had been left on the pavement before the arch covering the concrete stairway. Unlike downtown, the rent was within the scope of reason, and as a result these apartments were much sought after by business men and their families. Even despite the late hour Ginseed had not trouble wedging the Smart car between a nineties Ford and a brand new Cherokee. <br><br>Warm, slender fingers cupped Mordecai’s cheek and turned his face towards her. His stubbles rasped pleasantly against the soft tips as Amanda leaned in and kissed him for the second time that night. Her lips tasted of pineapple and red wine and captured his mouth with daring confidence. “Nice. Very nice.” She sighed contently, reluctantly pulling away from that all too tempting man.. <br><br>“Goodnight, Mr Ginseed.” Lashes fluttered downward as she turned away and fumbled with the door handle. “Thanks for the ride.” The door showed some mercy and opened after her insistent tugging and she scooted from the Smart without extending the invitation for a late night drink … <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>19-10-2008, 18:44:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Ginseed raised one eyebrow as she stretched out in the car, joyously observing that there was more space in the car than it appeared to have from the outside - Ginseed himself was a tall man, and the idea of driving a car with his knees up by his ears had never been appealing.&nbsp; He'd also been pleasantly surprised when he'd discovered how much room the little smart car had.<br><br>Finding her place turned out to be simple; Ginseed had excellent knowledge regarding the city, and he took note of the area - it was a good area, popular, and most importantly, safe.&nbsp; The little car dodged through the traffic without an issue, and easily found a spot to park in the neighbourhood; he had just been putting the car into park when he felt Amanda's hand gently grasp his jaw, turning his head towards her, he was about to speak, but then she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against his mouth, and he responded, but when she pulled back from the kiss, he appeared stunned.&nbsp; He even blushed.<br><br>"Goodnight, Ms. Lassiter," he replied shyly, "Take care."<br><br>And once she made her way across the lawn and safely to her front door, he put the car into gear again and headed out, doing his best to shake off the warm, fuzzy feeling that was threatening to take over.&nbsp; It had been an interesting night. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Imogen</strong> on <strong>19-10-2008, 20:14:05</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Amanda closed the door and turned on the lights. She walked towards the window and ventured a glance towards the now empty street. In the distance, red tail lights disappeared down towards 114th Avenue and Amanda fancied they might belong to Ginseed’s smart car. “Little snowflake”, she chuckled fondly, drawing the curtains. <br><br>She unstrapped her high heels and curled up on the divan, pulling a state of the art Apple Powerbook on her lap. “Congo and Zaire. Let’s see what you are hiding, my lovely.” The corners of her mouth curl into a minx smile when Google matched her query.&nbsp; <br><br><em>In the Congo, a country that has seen its fair share of civil wars and where corruption and mismanagement are rife, it's hardly conceivable that diamond sales can be fully monitored, when lawlessness and a frontier mentality are prevalent in cities like Mbuji-Mayi.</em><br><br>A low whistle was breathed through pursed lips, and a long fingernail tapped the keyboard in restless contemplation. The brown eyes locked on the text flashing on the screen, Amanda drank in the internet’s information.<br><br><em>Most of Congo's diamonds are exported through a state-run company, but in a country that was overrun by one dictator after another for more than 40 years, experts say that getting diamonds out of the Congo illegally has been an-all-too-common occurrence.</em><br><br>“Well, well. Who’d have thought. Pure as water, or bloodred, Mr Ginseed?” Amanda sighed and pushed her laptop to the side. Working her dress over her head, she walked to the bedroom and donned a black kimono that clung to her generous curves. She tied the oriental garment at the waist and retrieved a manilla folder from the vanity drawer. <br><br>She already knew all it contained. The pictures of Mordecai, the statistics of his company’s profit over the past years, lists of restaurants and hobbies and, the bundle of pages her slender fingers now separated from the rest, she had committed them to memory long ago. But she enjoyed the rustle of paper, and had a fondness for the printed version. Words on paper, she used to say, contained an authority of knowledge. So, she tucked her legs under the covers and sprawled on the bed with the results of an expensive, but interesting study: “<em>Mordecai Ginseed – Psychological Profile.</em>”&nbsp; <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>19-10-2008, 20:43:09</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Late that night, Ginseed stood outside his house, leaning on the rails of his porch; the moon was full that evening, and it reflected off the water pleasantly.&nbsp; He had his phone, but it wasn't the blackberry he normally had with him; it was a disposable phone, something small and cheap that required no registration,<br><br>"Trent?" he said, "Trent Morrison, well good evenin' sir!&nbsp; It's Mordecai Ginseed, just been talkin' to an old friend'a mine the other day, says you been doin' good work for us down at the docks.&nbsp; Well I just wanted to call, extend my appreciation, ask ya down here for a drink some time - how's tomorrow night?&nbsp; Sure, alright, see you then, Mr. Morrison."<br><br>He hung up, and looked at the phone for a long moment, chewing at his bottom lip; his eyes flicked back out towards the water, and for an instant he paused - eyeing a shadow on the beach.&nbsp; He headed inside for a moment, and when he came back out, he moved through his yard, out his gate, and towards the enormous alligator that had been lingering there; the thing was a monster, a great mammoth of a reptile with cracked gray skin that looked like it was made of stone.&nbsp; <br><br>"Hey there, big guy," Ginseed said, approaching, and stopping several feet away; the alligator didn't move, but he could feel its eyes on him, watching.&nbsp; It made no move towards him, and he knew why, "Yeah, here you go."<br><br>He tossed a great, raw chunk of deer to the alligator, and watched as it made quick work of the five pounds of meat,<br><br>"Plenty more coming for you tomorrow." he said, dissappearing back into his yard, closing the gate behind him, dragging the point of his five inch hunting knife up along the rail of his stairs as he went, before sheathing it again and heading inside.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Imogen</strong> on <strong>21-10-2008, 20:44:34</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Rays of sunshine welcomed Amanda to a new day when she yawned and opened her eyes, reluctantly blinking against the pale morning light. She rolled to her side and slammed the alarm clock seconds before it started its wake-up call. “Congo…” Amanda smiled wickedly. The morning sun warmed her naked shoulders as she sat up, recalling the night before. <em>It might be nothing</em>… She reprimanded herself for the insatiable optimism bubbling up inside. <br><br><em>Congo does not necessarily equal blood diamonds</em>, she reasoned.<br><br>But there’s a chance. A good chance.<br><br><em>He’s Mr Nice Guy. He wouldn’t deal in those.</em><br><br>Mr Nice Guy! In Congo… Surely, you don’t believe that!<br><br><em>Maybe he was in the army?</em><br><br>Yeah, maybe…<br><br>After a long, cold shower, the issue was still undecided. Amanda weighed probability and profit against Mordecai’s shy, youthful smile. His eyes had laughed and she’d seen nothing hidden in that smoldering green eyed gaze. <em>I want to be a magician too, papa…</em> She laughed at the memory of deviant Mickey. The abrupt, happy sound sparkled in the quiet apartment, stilling what doubts she might have had. Mordecai Ginseed, he was as much a boy as the ones watching a magic show on the beach. <br><br>Amanda dressed, choosing for plain khaki shorts and a simple top. She pulled on her socks and got her skeelers from the hall closet. Stocking footed, she headed down the stairs and sat on the bottom stone step, wedging her feet into the elusive skates. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>22-10-2008, 23:25:03</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"I hear you went on <em>date</em>."<br><br>Ginseed looked up from his papers and started when he found that Miss Kim was barely an inch from his face, her dark eyes big, and her left cheek bulging with a large bite of bagel; he rolled his chair back, just a little.<br><br>"Now how did you find that out, Miss Kim?"<br><br>"I low-jack your pants." she replied promptly, still making no move to swallow the bagel.&nbsp; Ginseed watched her, and she watched him, until he finally looked down at his pants, convinced by her silence; that, of course, was when she spoke again, "What, you stupid or something?&nbsp; Of course I no <em>low-jack pants</em>!&nbsp; Was sarcasm, American should understand that!&nbsp; Mihaela saw you, saw you with girl!&nbsp; Don't lie to Miss Kim, Miss Kim will know!"<br><br>"Miss Kim, you've got a poppyseed -" Ginseed said, lifting a hand in the air, finger extended very slightly, but she made quick work of the gesture by throwing a large piece of her bagel at him, and when it bounced off his shoulder and onto his desk, she quickly picked it up again and crammed it into her mouth.<br><br>"You tell Miss Kim!" she trilled, physically climbing onto his desk now, "You tell her, Mr. Ginseed, you tell her because girls are bad, girls are like <em>snake</em> - and you like a - a big, stupid mouse."<br><br>"'<em>A big, st -?</em>'" Ginseed began, repeating her, but Miss Kim looked prepared for another bagel strike so he shut up.<br><br>"You be careful with girl," Miss Kim said in a loud whisper, pointing one small, sharp finger at his nose, so close that he went cross-eyed, "You be very, very careful with girl Mr. Ginseed."<br><br>There was a long, long silence, and then a young man stepped in; he was slight and effeminate-looking with an unfortunate skip in his step, but it appeared he was trying to make up for it by growing the most ridiculous handlebar moustache the world had seen.&nbsp; He didn't even hesitate when he saw Miss Kim's canary-yellow clad rear pointed at him from the desk, or the look of careful obedience that was plastered on Ginseed's face; he continued towards them and carefully handed Ginseed a small pile of papers, his face a practised blank palette.<br><br>"Thank you, Jordan."<br><br>"You're welcome, sir.&nbsp; Have a good day."<br><br>"<em>Shave face</em>!"<br><br>"You have a good day as well, Miss Kim."<br><br>Jordan left, giving Ginseed one sympathetic look before dissappearing, leaving him wanting to call the man back, possibly with a tranquilizer of some sort.&nbsp; He turned his eyes back to his secretary, and he reached up and carefully tugged his tie out of her hand, smoothing it back against his chest and flicking off a poppyseed,<br><br>"Now, Miss Kim," Ginseed said, "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were actually worried about me."<br><br>The bagel hand twitched, but Ginseed lifted both hands in a gesture of pacifism, to show he was not currently armed with any kind of bread product to defend himself with, and he spoke slowly, as though concerned that any sudden movement might unleash a barrage unlike any the world had ever seen,<br><br>"I went out with a very nice young woman.&nbsp; She works with children, alright?&nbsp; We just had some Mexican food and then I drove her home.&nbsp; That's all."<br><br>There was a hesitation, and then,<br><br>"She work with children?" <br><br>"Yes.&nbsp; Less fortunate children.&nbsp; I told you, she's very -"<br><br>"<em>You get me to hire magician</em>!" she shouted, her eyes bulging as though she had caught him in some terrible lie, and she watched as Ginseed fiddled with his tie, and she could see his converse-clad feet twisting like a kid's.&nbsp; Miss Kim turned her head to the left side, and squinted one eye at him, and her voice was soft and scolding, "<em>Ohhh</em>, Mr. Ginseed.&nbsp; <em>You like girl</em>."<br><br>She crammed the rest of the bagel in her mouth and chewed furiously,<br><br>"Okay," she said, getting off the desk once she was done, "But you tell Miss Kim next time you going to do something stupid, or she hunt you down and make you wish you were dead." <br><br>"Thank you Miss Kim," Ginseed said, and rubbed at his eye for a long moment before getting to his feet and heading out of the office; he stopped by Mihaela, who was currently polishing a diamond display case, and trying very hard not to look up.&nbsp; Mihaela was young, tall, and supermodel thin despite her eating habits, which consisted mostly of pizza, coffee, and any chocolate she could get her hands on; she had the unfortunate tendency of being too curious about her co-workers, which resulted in frequent, awkward questions.<br><br>She still hadn't looked up from the display case, but she asked:<br><br>"Did she throw her bagel at you?"<br><br>"Yep."<br><br>"I'm sorry."<br><br>"It didn't hurt.&nbsp; It was just bread."<br><br>"No, I mean - I'm sorry I was sort of spying on you," she said, finally looking up, "I mean, not really - it's not like I was tracking you like wild game."<br><br>"Everyone's calling me an animal today.&nbsp; Where were you anyways?"<br><br>"I was in the restaurant.&nbsp; She's really pretty, Mr. Ginseed." she said, and a small smile appeared on her face as she scrubbed out a fingerprint on the case, "I've worked for you for like - three years, and I've never heard about you going on a date."<br><br>Half his staff already knew; it was true, nothing was secret in Miami.&nbsp; Mihaela suddenly leaned in secretively, and Ginseed raised his eyebrows, cocking his head to the side,<br><br>"<em>So did you do her</em>?"<br><br>Ginseed's head snapped up so fast that a couple of vertabrae cracked.<br><br>"Did I wha - whu?" Ginseed asked, "<em>Mihaela</em>!"<br><br>"Sorry." <br><br>"Look I - I gotta go," Ginseed said, rubbing at the back of his neck, "You guys're gonna be the death a'me, I swear."<br><br>He headed out of <em>Ice</em> and stood on the sidewalk in the sunlight, letting out a breath, unsure of when it was he'd become the straight man to a group of lunatics.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Imogen</strong> on <strong>23-10-2008, 16:57:37</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				She pushed off, quickly gaining speed. Skating didn’t take much strength once you had the technique down and Amanda was an expert on those fast sleek wheels. Raven curls fanned out behind her, lifted by the breeze. The morning sun warmed her skin just enough to make up for the early morning chill. Gliding past the pastel-tinted Art Deco buildings, Amanda reveled in the relative quiet blessing the city’s early risers. Traffic had started, crawling through the streets at snail’s pace. Parking was a problem, like in every big city and as she raced past the ever growing ribbon of vehicles, Amanda chuckled. “Snowflake.” The grin refused to leave the entire strip down towards the boulevard, and was still partially there when she slowed in front of Carlos’ Coffee.<br><br>“Amigo!” She called, circling around one of the dainty steel chairs aligned around a small table. The owner walked from the small coffee kiosk, a wide smile brightening his tanned face. “Senorita Amanda, the usual?” <br><br>“Yes, coffee and churro’s please, Carlos.” While the Mexican bartender prepared her order, Amanda turned her face towards the sun rising higher and higher, warming the city as it came to life. Carlos returned with a cup of steaming hot coffee and a plate with churro’s, fried dough sticks liberally powdered with sugar. She had taken a liking to them when she’d met Pietro Rossi, a Spaniard with too much money and the attitude of a snake. The man was long gone, but her liking for the sweet breakfast treat had remained.<br><br>“Lovely day, Senorita.” The older man commented, occupying himself with distributing glass ash trays over the tables.<br><br>“Yes..Yes, it is.” Her eyes sought the Miami Skyline, and the dark front of ICE. “The churro’s are lovely as ever, Carlos.” She complimented him, turning her gaze towards the boulevard and the stone ledge separating the pedestrian area from the beach and its myriad of shops and restaurants. She sighed contently and stretched in lazy languorous happiness. Lowering her arms, she dug up her small Nokia and placed the tiny cell phone beside her coffee cup. Amanda she rolled her feet over the pavement, the wheels rattling restlessly. To call.. or not to call. A question worth a million dollars, and likely more.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>23-10-2008, 19:01:13</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"You ever ask what Mr. Ginseed does in his spare time?" Mihaela asked, leaning back against a display case, her arms crossed over her chest.<br><br>"No.&nbsp; I don't ask him anything if I can help it." Jordan replied.<br><br>"Why not?&nbsp; Aren't you curious what a guy like him does when he's not here?&nbsp; You've worked for him longer than I have - it's gotta claw at you sometimes that you don't actually know anything about him, besides what the press gets a hold of." <br><br>"Yeah, of course I'm curious, but I actually like Mr. Ginseed."<br><br>"Wait, so, because you like him, you don't want to know anything about him?"<br><br>"Exactly.&nbsp; Everyone's got skeletons in their closets and guys like Mr. Ginseed are quiet about their private life for a reason."<br><br>"What, so you think he's into something?"<br><br>"I don't know, Mihaela; for all I know he's just a Southern, cornbread-fed farmboy from Houston and there's nothing else to him.&nbsp; But Mr. Ginseed hired me despite my record and he hired Miss Kim despite the fact she was so sick she could barely stand.&nbsp; Let's be honest here - where do you think you'd be right now if he hadn't given you this job?"<br><br>"Still on the streets, probably," Mihaela said, after a hesitation.<br><br>"Right, and I'd probably be behind bars.&nbsp; Who else in Miami would hire people like us?&nbsp; I just think that I owe it to him to keep out of his private life, he's got enough people digging into it all the time - but if he ever needs me for anything, I'll be there.&nbsp; I just think it's the best way to show that I'm grateful to him; I figure if he wants to talk about his private life, he will."<br><br>Mihaela chewed thoughtfully on the corner of a chocolate bar.<br><br>"Yeah, I guess," she said, swaying from side to side, eyeing the silhouette of her boss outside the window, "I just keep thinking he's maybe repressed or something."<br><br>"Maybe he's better off that way."<br><br>"Want some chocolate?"<br><br>"Sure."<br><br>"Your moustache looks ridiculous," Mihaela said, breaking off a piece of the chocolate and handing it to Jordan.<br><br>"I know."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Imogen</strong> on <strong>24-10-2008, 23:15:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Fifteen minutes later the phone still lay silent beside the now empty coffee cup. The sun was steadily gaining in power and a velvety sheen of perspiration coated the brunette’s brow. She frowned at the helpless little Nokia. What had she expected: her name on his lips first thing upon awakening, a phone call during breakfast? Foolishness!<br><br><em>Why not? </em>A darker part murmured. <em>You’ve done it before. Why should Ginseed by any different? <br></em><br>“Carlos”, she spoke abruptly, squinting against the morning sun like a lazy cat. “Tell me about love.”<br><br>The Mexican chewed his shiny black moustache and smiled. “Love is a monster, Senorita. It preys upon the weak and gnaws upon their hearts. It feeds them sleepless nights.” He tshah’ed with Mediterranean charm. “And when your heart’s gone, it spits you right back out, Senorita Amanda.” He told her with remarkable cheer for someone who was supporting three ex-wives and a young lover. Carlos dramatically placed his hand over his heart. “But life is nothing without love, senorita. Dull and pale. Carlos is weak for love, every time.” His eyes glittered and Amanda smiled involuntarily. <br><br>“Suppose so, amigo.” She snatched the Nokia cell phone and rolled to her feet. With a few expert strokes Amanda was on her way, skating determinedly towards the ICE building. <br><br>Carlos watched her leave with a smile on his rugged handsome face, realizing only five minutes later his charming friend still had to pay for her breakfast. "Head in the clouds", he chuckled in mild forgiveness and cleared the empty plates.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>24-10-2008, 23:41:54</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				It was hot out, but it always was in Miami - just on that particular day, the sun had only been up a few hours and the air was already stifling, every breath drawn inwards was so warm it almost burned the lungs, and Ginseed could smell the water nearby and the strong, bitter Turkish coffee that was sold at the place across the street.&nbsp; Standing against the black backdrop of ICE, Ginseed might have blended in, wearing his black suit, if it weren't for the emerald-coloured dress shirt and complimenting tie - the colours made his eyes look ridiculously green.&nbsp; He was even wearing another pair of high-tops, in green.<br><br>His blackberry buzzed noisily, and he groaned just a little before he pulled it out, looking down at the text message; he got several every day, usually regarding shipments, meetings, showings.&nbsp; He eyed the text message for a moment and let out another groan, because there was a wedding party and it was being controlled by something of a Bridezilla - she wanted a personal showing of the wares, and she didn't want his staff.&nbsp; She wanted 'the Mr. Ginseed', in person, and she was going to pay whatever she had to in order to get him to come to her, the sort of woman with money to burn, the kind that most businesses loved, but the sort of client that usually privately drove Ginseed up the wall.<br><br>He drew in a breath, and leaned his head back against the black marble face of his business and closed his eyes under the sunlight - he'd been giving a lot of face time lately, and he was finding that his personal attendance was becoming in higher demand by the sort of people who seemed to think that having Ginseed hand them the jewels would make them more worth-while.&nbsp; He'd gone into the business to stay low-key, he'd never thought -<br><br>But hey, it was business.&nbsp; He just had to go with it.<br><br>The blackberry buzzed again; he ignored it for now.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Imogen</strong> on <strong>25-10-2008, 19:17:57</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Amanda zoomed past slow paced traffic with steady gliding strikes, enjoying the rhythm and speed of her skates flying over the pavement. Her hair rose and fell in a joyous dance of dark curls and those chocolate eyes shone brightly with heady confidence. She skirted a traffic sign and crossed the street, zigzagging between a Ford and a sleek sports car.<br><br>The dark front of ICE rose up before her. Its dark façade of modern wealth dominated the street and Amanda’s gaze was involuntarily drawn towards the looming building. Ginseed’s emerald appearance was hard to miss, even in chameleon setting of his suit, and she raised her hand in a cheerful, spontaneous wave to the lone businessman. <br><br>There was no explanation for what happened next. One moment, she was skating towards the street, the next there was a screeching of brakes pulled, loud cursing and a low thud. <br><br>“Watch where you’re going!” The taxi driver yelled, poking his head out of the window. “Stupid skaters!” Sweat beaded on his forehead, he wiped it off angrily. “Calm now…Mind the blood pressure”, Amanda retorted visibly chagrined and scrambled to her feet with aid of his rearview mirror. She didn’t look much worse for wear, except for her heightened color, and a scraped knee. Her blush lingered when she reached Ginseed's side of the street and she uttered with a low, self-deprecating chuckle... "Never fell for any man like that before."<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>26-10-2008, 18:01:18</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Ginseed had been temporarily lost in his own head, his eyes closed and the sun beating down on him, and he might have missed what happened if he hadn't heard the taxi let out a loud, shrieking honk - he opened his eyes just in time to see Amanda Lassiter, on inline skates, getting jabbed by the front end of a car.&nbsp; It wasn't a hard hit, but it didn't take much speed from a 3000 pound self-propelled piece of metal.<br><br>Alarmed, Ginseed was immediately stepping away from the building and towards her, but she was pulling herself to her feet and sassing the taxi driver before he was even off the sidewalk, so he put out a hand to her when she came within his range, gently cuffing her upper arm with one strong hand, pulling her along towards the building, just out of the sun where he could get a good look at her,<br><br>"You alright, Ms. Lassiter?" he asked, his eyes flicking over her, checking for any obvious signs of injury, "Seems t'be quite the mornin' you're havin'."<br><br>Inside, Mihaela had dragged Jordan nearer to the window, <br><br>"That's her, that's the girl I saw him with yesterday!" she said, and Jordan bristled his moustache, "Isn't she <em>gorgeous</em>?"<br><br>"Mihaela, we shouldn't be -"<br><br>"What you two looking at?"<br><br>"Miss Kim -" Jordan began, exasperated, turning to try and get away, only to be blocked by Ms. Kim and nearly shoved against the window, scrabbling desperately to get away even as the small korean woman kept him pinned with her body.<br><br>"Oh, is that girl?&nbsp; Is that girl Mr. Ginseed was out with?" she asked, peering around Jordan's arm.<br><br>"Yeah, that's her - Mr. Ginseed's actually touching her, he never touches anyone -" Mihaela said.<br><br>"Mihaela, please, can't we just -"<br><br>"Do you think they've been seeing eachother for a while?&nbsp; Mr. Ginseed looks worried."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Imogen</strong> on <strong>27-10-2008, 12:27:53</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				His hand closed around Amanda's biceps and towed her to safety. She hopped up when her skates bumped the pavements and rolled with him to the shadows. Nothing serious, she reassured, toeing the wheels and arching to examine her legs and lower back side. Right, all is well.” She chuckles, and wiped her hand over her hip where it had connected with the Miami road. Tomorrow was going to be a special hell with bruises and sore muscles, but she cared about the here and now. His touch was warm and strong, those electrifying green eyes had never seemed more dear. Sometimes you had to sacrifice to win.&nbsp; <br><br>“A few bruises and a massive blow to my dignity.” Amanda grinned. Thanks for rescuing me from my own enthusiasm, Mr. Ginseed. Never saw that taxi coming.&nbsp; I'll have to dub you Lancelot Ginseed ere long. Saving me every time.” She teased lightly. With her skates, shorts and simple top the vivacious brunette easily defied the stereotype of the damsel in distress. Her playful smile laughed at him, as well as herself, as her sense of humor bubbled to the surface once again. Amanda looked up, meeting his eyes squarely and found she'd made a serious mistake. Whatever lay hidden in the depths of those green eyes, their immediate shine told her more than she had bargained for. The playful smile softened, and cool fingers cupped gently over his. <br><br>Green's your color.” She managed a random topic before she fell silent and a blush warmed her sunkissed cheeks.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>27-10-2008, 13:09:32</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Ah, now I'm no knight, Ms. Lassiter, but your dignity's gonna be just fine - seriously, y'haven't seen me on inline skates before.&nbsp; S'like a train-wreck.&nbsp; Makes gettin' hit by a taxi look favorable." Ginseed said, offering a small smile, eyeing the taxi as it screeched away, the driver cursing to himself, clearly irritated by the near-miss.&nbsp; It was hell to go anywhere in Miami for pedestrians and drivers alike, "Gonna look int'a gettin' a crosswalk near here, that's just dangerous."<br><br>He looked back down, to Amanda, and found her looking up at him; they made eye contact, and both of them seemed to fall still and silent for an instant, and he felt her hand close around his,<br><br>"Uh," Ginseed said, his voice wavering a little, then he added, "Thanks.&nbsp; I'd think any colour was yours - um -"<br><br>He froze suddenly as something caught his eye, and slowly, very slowly he turned to face the window of his business, and found three pairs of eyes staring out at him - well, two and a half, since Jordan was actually physically squashed against the window and one of his eyes was shut from the pressure.&nbsp; Ginseed put his fists on his sides and cocked his head to the side, and he watched as Miss Kim and Mihaela recognized they were being watched; Miss Kim immediately took out her cell phone and made as though she was busy, and Mihaela tried to look as though she had been cleaning the window.&nbsp; Jordan didn't even try; he just popped his face off the window and walked away.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Imogen</strong> on <strong>27-10-2008, 22:21:09</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<br>“We could try fishing some day.” She suggested impishly. “Do the community a favor and keep us out of harms way.” Amanda’s gaze snapped towards the building when she felt Ginseed’s attention drawn. She reached for his shoulder and skated around, holding his arm where she peeked behind the jeweler towards the explosion of activity behind the window. Stifling laughter, she pursed her lips and gestured to Mihaela, pointing up and to the right where a cheek print and a few crumbs still adorned the glass. <br><br>“I should get myself cleaned up and let you go back to work.” Amanda ventured reluctantly with a glance at her wrist watch. "Not to mention shooting a group of 'adventurers' later today. As soon as they hear 'swamps', everyone wants to be Steve Irwin. You'd think that dieing at the age of 44 would temper the enthusiasm, eh?" She chuckled and winked. "If I haven't returned to break anything in two weeks.... " 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>27-10-2008, 23:31:37</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Ms. Lassiter, I'm not sure there's a place on the planet safe from us," Ginseed said, still looking in the window, his expression somewhere between amused and bemused, watching Ms. Kim busily tapping at her blackberry, and Mihaela taking Amanda's indication and wiping at the spot where they had forced Jordan's face.&nbsp; Ginseed looked at Amanda and rubbed at the back of his neck, as he tended to do, <br><br>"Or from them, for that matter." he added, jerking a thumb towards his employees, "But they're the salt of the earth, these people.&nbsp; They been with me for years."<br><br>He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels a little,<br><br>"Another day with the munchkins?&nbsp; I dunno how y'do it Ms. Lassiter, I don't think I'd be able to handle that many of 'em."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Imogen</strong> on <strong>28-10-2008, 23:27:01</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				“They seem a caring bunch.” Amanda cheerfully gave Mihaela the thumbs-up when the window looked clean from her vantage point. “Says a lot of good ‘bout you and them, really. Not like those places where temps come and go, good people stay at good places.” <br><br>“Ha, the kids?” She laughed. “I’d wish. Born and raised ‘round these parts they know the swamps, and know to be careful. No Sir, I’m handling a bunch of tourists who’d seen the videos, slapped on a cowboy hat and imagine themselves Crocodile Dundee.” Dark curls shook with her denial and a healthy grin flashed. “Still, I’ve survived before. Think we’ll be able to get this lot home safely too. We got a good guide, James Rogier. Have you heard of him? There was a section ‘bout him in the Scope a couple of weeks ago. He is making a killing by giving the rich and famous a taste of the ‘wilderness’.” Amanda finger quoted the last word and grinned like a wicked imp. “I’m just around to ensure their heroic adventures are caught on DVD. I slap a nice cover on it, and we’ve got us some happy campers. Pun intended.” <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>29-10-2008, 17:35:28</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Oh, they're a carin' bunch alright," Ginseed said, eyeing the glass once more, just in time to see Mihaela staring again, gnawing on a piece of chocolate; when she saw him looking, she turned and nearly skipped away from the window, finally leaving the two of them without an audience, "Wouldn't trade 'em for anythin'.&nbsp; They've been good, loyal employees for years."<br><br>Ginseed raised his eyebrows then; he'd heard about the tour groups, couples on vacation looking for a little adventure - as far as Ginseed was concerned, they'd find more fun on the strip than they would in the swamps.&nbsp; On the rare occasion when a crocodile showed itself to a tour group, they were usually volatile and irritable, but they never attacked the boats - they didn't want anything to do with people most of the time.<br><br>Unless they were being fed, of course.&nbsp; Then they would come around whenever there was the possibility of getting something to eat without having to make any effort for it.<br><br>"Well, that sounds like, ah," Ginseed said, clearly doing his best to be polite about it, since the prospect of being surrounded by sweaty, excitable tourists for a day didn't seem like the most enjoyable trek, "Sounds like it's gonna be interesting, Ms. Lassiter.&nbsp; If you happen t'need a good, stiff drink after, just let me know."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Imogen</strong> on <strong>29-10-2008, 20:09:28</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				“Don’t mind if I do, Mr. Ginseed..” Laughing, Amanda blew a kiss to Mordecai. “Don’t work too hard.” Her voice chimed even as she rolled away, expertly dodging traffic and pedestrians alike. Skating back home cost her the good part of an hour and the sun had risen high when she finally dislodged her inline skates and trekked up the stairs to her apartment.<br><br>James would be handling most of their equipment, Amanda only had to pack a few personal items and her camera. Dressed in a plain cotton pants, a checkered white and red shirt and comfortable, sturdy shoes, she was waiting at the appointed time. Her hair frolicked in a bouncy ponytail as she carried her backpack down the stairs when James’ Jeep pulled into the parking.<br><br>“Amanda, hello! Let me help you with that.” Without heeding her polite protesting James Rogier eased her backpack in the back seat where it joined his pile of necessities. Tents and packs of various sizes littered the floor and seating, tossed in haphazard piles that belied the guide’s keen organizational skills. Customers wanted an experience that was as close to movies as they’d comfortably get and the loosely packed jeeps helped to set a first impression of adventure. The cowboy hat and James’ rugged good looks helped setting the picture and Amanda played along with her plain, country girl attire.<br><br>“Ready to pick them up?” James wagged his brows as Amanda hopped into the passenger seat without waiting for his assistance. He whistled appreciatively and she grimaced at her co-worker. “Any time you say, boss”, she chuckled. “Just speed up the process this time, will you? I have a really nice man waiting with drinks after.<br><br>James tipped his hat with a hearty chuckle. “And that guy ain’t me? Amanda, you’re breaking my heart.” <br><br>She snorted, gracing that remark with not even a sidelong glance. The tour guide was almost as famous for his charming the clientele as for area knowledge. “Just keep your eyes on the road, your hands on the wheel and your wit for the guests.” She suggested primly, dark eyes smiling. James barked a laugh and shook his head and refrained from further banter when they drove towards the meeting point.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>29-10-2008, 21:30:32</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Getting information about anything was easy in Miami, but even easier when one had the disposable income and unlimited resources of Mordecai Ginseed; it was only a few moments after Amanda headed across the street that Ginseed glanced down at his watch, chewing at his bottom lip, squinting just a little as the sun got into his eyes.&nbsp; When Amanda was out of sight, Ginseed moved like a hyperactive kid, simultaneously getting into his car and dialing Ms. Kim's number,<br><br>"Miss Kim, I need you to get me secured on the Miami Adventure Line tour boat - yes, the one in the swamps - yes, Miss Kim, I know I live right beside the swamps - for this afternoon, yup.&nbsp; I know it's short notice - no, I don't need another magician.&nbsp; Put me under the name 'Myers' - yeah, like the local artist - no, I don't think he'd much appreciate you callin' him a hack, it's not very friendly.&nbsp; Alright, thank you, Miss Kim.&nbsp; Yes, I know - I'm like a big dumb mouse, thank you for reminding me, g'bye."<br><br>Ginseed hung up, managing to put his cell phone away while pulling off his suit jacket and directing the Smart Car safely through mid-day traffic - it was a lesson in multi-tasking.&nbsp; He pulled up to his villa and darted inside, pulling off his tie as he went, and his phone rang again as he stripped off his dress shirt, hanging it all up and putting it into the closet.<br><br>And an hour and a half later, when Amanda and James moved up the dusty roads in their jeeps, the tour group stood waiting; it consisted mostly of middle-aged and elderly couples from across the world, all of whom were wearing little blue and white nametags that had their names scrawled on them.&nbsp; Among them, one in particular stood out due to his incredible height, and the fact he was dressed in what had to be the brightest hawaiian t-shirt known to mankind, a pair of huge sunglasses, and a baseball cap with a Canadian maple leaf on the front of it.&nbsp; He even had on cargo pants and a fanny pack, and his feet were adorned with a pair of bright orange hightop shoes; his nametag read 'Myers', and he stood grinning dumbly amidst the crowd, randomly taking photos with a disposable camera.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Imogen</strong> on <strong>02-11-2008, 00:45:59</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The hotel porter divided the tourists’ luggage over the available cars while the one of the drivers, a wiry Mexican listening to the name “Miguel checked their names on his clipboard. “Mr. and Mrs. Summers, Mr. and Mrs. Deloui, Miss Anderson, Mr. Myers.” His voice droned on, the keen, beady eyes shifting to the guests in confirmation of everyone’s presence. He was interrupted by the roaring of a Jeep’s engine and a cloud of dust following in the vehicle’s wake. <br><br>James leaped from the car swashbuckler style and strode to the guests in a nonchalant, gentlemanly rendition of many movie heroes. “Ladies, gentlemen. It is a pleasure to see you all here today...” He tipped his hat to the gathered crowd, effectively gathering everyone's attention. Well… Not –everyone's-. Amanda had not left the Jeep. She had risen from her seat, her hands tightly clasping the window glass. <br><em>Mr. Myers?</em> Her mind failed to work properly, numbly registering the mismatched name. <em>No, that wasn't possible. He couldn't. Surely, he'd have told her. Unless...</em> Her distraction earned Amanda a warning glance from James and she hastily started recording. <br><br>The camera provided some artificial distance between the brunette and the tourists. It was easier to look at him through the lens and see his image minimized on the small screen that showed the recordings while she filmed. Out of a quaint sense of masochism and a shred of duty, she filmed the others guests first before her camera sought Ginseed, and relentlessly captured the man’s wide smile and the biggest, brightest shirt the Miami swamps had ever hosted. Suddenly, all eyes turned to her and Amanda realized James must have reached the introductions and she raised in a hand in a cheerful wave. “Hello everyone!” Eyes moved on to the next target and Amanda breathed a relieved sigh, dedicating herself seemingly to her work. The recording gave her an excuse to watch Mordecai, dark eyes locked on the handsome face and she giggled when she recognized the boyish excitement behind the bumpkin façade. "Oh, you devil", she chuckled admiringly, a hint of loving laughter in her warm voice.<br><br>James finished his welcome speech and the tourists were hoarded to the cars, two jeeps and a mini van for those who preferred airconditioned. Thanks to a clever sound system, the guide’s voice would be heard live in all three cars once they were on their way. Amanda skipped from the Jeep and greeted the ones who had opted to brave the Miami heat. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Imogen</strong> on <strong>10-11-2008, 20:41:29</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				James filled the two hour drive with humorous anecdotes involving Miami’s most prominent citizens. He went into detail describing Don Johnson’s unexpected encounter with a tree snake on the Miami Vice set, and Amanda, who had heard it all before, let her thoughts wander to more pleasant topics. Ginseed was seated to the right and behind her and she looked at his handsome façade in the rearview mirror. He still smiled dumbly and Amanda smirked at the man’s mirror image. She wanted to kiss that smile away. Slow, seductive licks and nibbles that traveled over his bottom lip, and hands that roamed over his naked flesh. That shirt deserved to be shredded in the heat of passion. What smile would he give her then? What would his eyes tell her? Amanda tossed her curls in the wind, and blinked at the road. Would he smile as big when he rested in her arms, spent and satisfied?&nbsp; Her small hands clenched the wheel and she hit the pedal a bit too hard. The jeep jolted over the road and she chuckled an apology at the passengers. “Ain’t seen nothing yet, ladies and gents”, she announced cheerfully with a reproachful glance at Mordecai.<br><br>Just when his supply of information seemed endless, James lead the group past rusty gates with faded signs that read “DANGER” and “Don’t feed the animals” onto a bumpy, dirt road. Slender trees rose tall on either side of the path, their roots twining up from the sodden ground. A larger patch of water stretched to the left. A great egret stretched its wings and rose majestically from the shoreline, searing over the water in majestic flight. <br><br>The silence of the swamps is only broken by the steady humming of engines and the sounds of wildlife. Turkey vultures perch in the highest trees and in the ever growing expanse of water to their right, the smooth surface is occasional broken by a silvery splash. Crocodiles sunned lazily on the shores or drifted in the water like logs moving against the current. <br><br>They parked at a small jetty, where a flatboat has been readied for the group.&nbsp; Amanda helped old Mrs. Denaghy from the Jeep who hobbled happily towards the water’s edge, leaning heavily on her cane. After retrieving her own camera, Amanda strolled towards Ginseed. One hand caressed the curve of hip, her stride was sultry and a challenge burned in the dark eyes. “I’d have thought you’d seen enough of the wilds, Mr..eh..Myers?” She chuckled and raised her camera to catch his expression on film when a high pitched scream and a loud splash sounded behind them.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>10-11-2008, 23:44:30</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				It was a dumb, satisfied smile beneath the sunglasses and hat, and Ginseed was spending his time taking unfocused pictures and obnoxiously aiming the flash in the face of other tourists.&nbsp; <br><br>"So how many y<em>aa</em>rs have you done this f<em>a</em>r?" Ginseed asked, putting on an award-winning Newfoundland accent; and, as they struck a few bumps in the road, the others beside him bounced and jostled in their seats, holding onto their hats and looking alarmed, but Ginseed looked as though he was somehow uneffected by physics - even his hat didn't move.&nbsp; He looked around himself, upwards, tilting his head far back as though he'd never seen open sky before, "S'nowh<em>a</em>r near as warm in St. John's raight naw."<br><br>The couple to his right were peering over at him with vapid smiles; ah yes, he could hear their internal narration now: <em>Oh, a Canadian, that explains it.</em><br><br>"What brought you to Miami then, Mister, uh, Myers?"<br><br>"Oh I j<em>o</em>st needed a break from my job," Ginseed said, and then gave a retarded-looking double thumbs up, "And I hear the tapas here are top-of-the-line."<br><br>"Tapas.&nbsp; Ah-hah.&nbsp; Yes.&nbsp; And what do you do in, uh, St. Johns?"<br><br>"I'm a fisherman; needed to get a<em>hwo</em>y from the monotony, you know?"<br><br>There was a hesitation, and the couple politely looked out at the water, at the flatboat awaiting them, and then looked back at Ginseed, who simply smiled.&nbsp; They returned it politely, and the conversation was clearly over at that point - it was probably for the best since the Jeep was coming to a stop at that point anyways.&nbsp; They all climbed out of the Jeep, and for an instant, Ginseed looked as though he was stuck, the strap of his ridiculous fanny pack getting caught in the door of the vehicle; it was difficult to tell if it was part of the act or not, but when Amanda sauntered over to him, he looked up.&nbsp; He pulled his hat off, holding it habitually to his chest,<br><br>"Can't never get enough of th'wilds, Ms. Lassiter," he replied, still stuck to the side of the car, and he blinked hard when the camera flashed, but the expression it caught, even at the sound of the scream, was somehow innappropriately blank.&nbsp; He looked over towards the source of the sound - it was Mrs. Denaghy; he'd seen her earlier, a white-haired sweet little old thing, probably in her eighties, wearing an argyle shawl and kerchief in one hundred degree heat, God bless her.&nbsp; Somehow while shuffle-stepping her little clogs across the water's edge, she'd managed to slip in, right into the thick brush, and judging by the way she was floundering, she was either stuck or didn't know how to swim, and there was a particularly large crocodile that was curiously edging its way towards her.<br><br>It was difficult to tell exactly what happened, but a few seconds later, the fanny pack was still hanging in the door of the Jeep and Ginseed wasn't; even his stupid size fourteen Toronto Maple Leaf flip-flops were still on the ground, but he was in the water, securing his arms around Mrs. Denaghy.&nbsp; He even managed to pull her thick shawl off her shoulders and tossed it a few feet to the left, enough to get the crocodile's attention with the movement so it veered off towards what appeared to be a much easier target.&nbsp; There wasn't a lot of resistance, save for the brushes that seemed to have tangled themselves into all the swaths of cloth that the woman wore, and she was relatively light, enough that Ginseed came out of the water with her in his arms, his sunglasses lopsided and his hair plastered against his head, bits of brush sticking from his pants and shirt sleeves.<br><br>Mrs. Denaghy was shaking in his arms, but it wasn't from cold, the water was almost as warm as the air,<br><br>"It's just nerves, you're alright," Ginseed said, but discovered that the woman wouldn't let go, so he had to head back towards the jeep with an armful of quaking, sobbing senior, doing his best to ignore the open-mouth stares.&nbsp; It took a little coaxing, but after a few minutes, he managed to get Mrs. Denaghy onto her feet, and back into the Jeep, clearly unwilling to get on the boat now, and he couldn't exactly blame her.<br><br>Quietly, he cleared his throat, picked up his hat, dusted it off, and jammed it back on his head.&nbsp; After a moment, he slapped a hand against the pocket of his cargo pants, and about a cupful of Miami water came out,<br><br>"Hey, souveneir." he said, pointing enthusiastically at the other filled pocket.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Imogen</strong> on <strong>15-11-2008, 00:03:53</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				“Mordecai…damnit!” Amanda squeezed past James and pudgy Mrs Lowes. She ran towards the dripping duo and helped Ginseed make Mrs. Denaghy comfortable in the car, wrapping a traveling rug around the elderly woman with gentle care. “I’ll take you home. Get you some dry clothes, a drink and a tad of rest.” Her hands trembled as she adjusted the covers over Mrs. Denaghy’s shoulders. Amanda hopped off the footboard and whirled on Mordecai. “You could have been killed, you big oaf.” She uttered hoarsely, fighting the emotions bubbling to the surface.<br><br>Around them, the group was slowly recovery from shock and slack jaws were slowly closed.“Mr. Myers, if not for your quick action...” A balding business man grappled to shake Mordecai’s hand.&nbsp; His was only the first of many voices raised in praise and admiration “Mr. Myers, you remind me of my great grand father...” Mrs Lowes’ story drowned in the many other voices joining in their praise. When they could not speak to Ginseed, they talked to each other. “Wouldn’t have reached land. Not without the shawl trick.”&nbsp; A white haired man, his face wrinkled like a faded parchment, kept nodding his head at Ginseed. “Dapper young lad.” He said, over and over. It sounded as the highest praise.<br><br>James watched Amanda and clenched his fists at the fond smile she sent Myers. His voice was the only one not joining in the cacophony. His eyes bulged and the look he shot at Mordecai was sheer venom. His adam’s apple spasmed and he spit at the ground.&nbsp; When heads were turned his way, James coughed hastily. “Bravely done, Mr. Myers.” He bit off the words angrily. “And very lucky.” <br><br>With the focus of the audience returned to him, James regained his posture. With words of caution and cleverly timed jests, he herded the group towards the boats. “Have a seat, ladies and gentlemen, not a swim!” Joking and laughing, he drew their attention to pleasantries and when he mentioned a BBQ with freshly caught crabs and chilled champagne, they were quite willing to write Mrs. Denaghy off as an exciting experience. It had all ended well, after all. With their selfish minds turned towards the pleasures in store, the tourists allowed him to seat them properly for the rest of the trip. <br><br>Fragments of his speech drifted towards the Jeep and Mrs. Denaghy colored angrily. Amanda gnawed her bottom lip and shot an dirty look towards the disappearing group. Pouring a hot cup of tea from a thermos bottle, she offered each a cup. “My mother always said tea was good in every situation.” Amanda smiled with that hint of mischief in her voice. <br><br>Her fingers lingered on Ginseed’s wrist after the cup had exchanged hands. Dark eyes raised to meet his green orbs. “I’ll take good care of you.” Although the words had been whispered, laden with promise as they had been, they had been loud enough. With the tourists safely seated, James had returned to the Jeep to check on the strays. He watched Ginseed and Amanda with undisguised hatred.<br><br>“Ms. Lassiter. If you had stayed with the group instead of pursuing your own interests, this wouldn’t have happened.. I shall no longer need your services.” Barely contained anger seethed in the too calm voice. <br><br>Amanda paled. Her smile faded and for a split second her features betrayed the emotions underneath. Whatever anger and pain she’d shown in that unmasked moment, they were soon replaced by her dazzling smile. “That’s alright, James.” She stated calmly. “But since I take my responsibility very seriously, I trust you don’t mind if I see Mrs. Denaghy and Mr.&nbsp; Myers home safely.” <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>18-11-2008, 03:57:04</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Ginseed didn't protest to Amanda's scolding, he just ducked his head downwards and toed the ground with his sandal, even shoving his hands into the pockets of his cargos like a little boy being punished.&nbsp; It seemed that Amanda's brief, hoarse words had more effect on him than the massive amounts of praise he was receiving from the rest of the tour group; in fact, it seemed as though he was trying to brush off the latter.<br><br>He had no chance to actually reply to the eager story-telling of the others, no chance to actually get away because it seemed that every few seconds someone was coming up to him and vigorously pumping his hand up and down, recounting some near-death experience or survival tale that they'd heard or experienced.&nbsp; This went on for sometime, to the point that Ginseed found himself grateful for James' obvious bitterness, privately pleased to hear the man spit his anger at the ground, because it took the attention away from him, and back to the tour.&nbsp; Acting as Mr. Myers, Ginseed managed to keep his expression vaguely dim, as though he was too vapid to realize the actual danger, and didn't know he was being patronized by the tour guide; having a cockfight with James just wasn't worth his time.<br><br>Grateful for the Miami heat, Ginseed found his clothes were drying rapidly, though he still had to wring out the tails of his shirt and pick off bits of algae from his clothes as he sat with Amanda and the still quaking Mrs. Denaghy.&nbsp; He accepted the tea with one of his easy, crooked smiles, but nearly dropped the cup in his lap when he made eye contact with Amanda; she was sitting across from him with the sunlight beaming down on her, highlighting gold flecks in her eyes, giving an extra sheen to her dark hair, and the sight of her was distracting.&nbsp; When her fingers lingered on his wrist, he realized she was trembling just a little while his pulse held steady.<br><br>"Your mother was a wise woman, Ms. Lassiter." Ginseed said, forgetting for a moment that he wasn't supposed to know her last name.&nbsp; <br><br>And then, from the corner of his eye, he saw James again.&nbsp; He had known from the man's earlier tone that he was displeased; James' interest in Amanda was obvious enough, but his interest in himself was much keener - it was clear that James was hurting from the lack of attention and blow to his ego.<br><br>And it was clear that James was used to getting his way, because somehow amidst it all, he hadn't forseen that Ginseed might intervene.<br><br>"See," Ginseed said, after James had finished his self-righteous speech, "I just don't see how that's gonna go down real well, James.&nbsp; Now I know there was a near-miss that happened just now, but Amanda here, she was assigned to film this tour - not t'guide it.&nbsp; I think I'm gonna have to just go ahead and look up what responsibilities your job entails as a tour guide, just to be sure, but as I understand it, you're meant to be the one keeping us safe and sound."<br><br>The Newfoundland accent was gone, and the Texas drawl reigned supreme; metaphorically, the gloves were off; Ginseed offered James a smile, but there was nothing pleasant about it:<br><br>"Amanda - she's a nice lady.&nbsp; Fact a'the matter, she might just be too darn nice, considerin' her main concern has been entirely for us, and not her job - but me, I sure won't have a problem asking the Miami labor board about its stance on wrongful termination.&nbsp; I hear the settlements are significant."<br><br>He peered around James then, chewed at his bottom lip,<br><br>"Better get back to your tour group, 'fore any of 'em get restless.&nbsp; Enjoy your champagne." he said, and turned his attentions back to Amanda and Mrs. Denaghy.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Imogen</strong> on <strong>21-11-2008, 14:21:19</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				“I believe Mr Myers said it all.” Amanda murmured drily. “Goodbye James.” She started the car and tossed a look over her shoulder to her passengers. “Ready, Mrs. Denaghy? And Mr.Myers?” The dark eyes sparkled when she saw the elderly lady poised as straight as if she were attending a Victorian salon. Yes, old Mrs. Denaghy was one classy dame. <br><br>“I warned him I’d call him Lancelot”, She shouted against the wind that blew her hair in loose waves around her head as she drove. “He rescued me from a car. Earlier today.” Mrs. Denaghy remarked primly that Mr. Myers was a true gentleman under his own name and Amanda’s warm laughter drifted towards them upon the wind. “That’s true.” She agreed amiably, keeping the conversation light with mildly teasing the gentleman in their midst and kind questions pertaining Mrs. Denaghy’s wellbeing. <br><br>The timing was right. Silly James and his ego had played Ginseed right into her hands. If only he had not looked so damn shy. Amanda remembered the look on his face when she had chided him, and the butterflies dancing in her stomach at the sight. And he had stood up for her! Hell, if she wasn’t careful she just might fall for the man and that wouldn’t do at all! Tonight, she decided. She’d do it tonight and move on. Forget that man before it was too late. <br><br>She pulled the Jeep up at the main entrance of the posh hotel and turned to help the lady from the car, only to find Ginseed had gotten there first. Amanda smiled and disappeared into the hotel lobby. When she returned , a pretty hostess in the hotel’s blue and gold uniform followed in her wake. “Mrs. Denaghy. What an unpleasant experience.” She exclaimed, immediately taking charge. But Mrs. Denaghy would have none of it. Even with her white hair plastered in strands, the loss of her shawl and a ruined dress, the old lady looked very serious as she turned to Ginseed. “Thank you, Mr. Myers.” She said with a regal incline of her head. With a smile to Amanda, Mrs. Denaghy allowed the hostess to lead her inside. “What is your name, dear child? Glory? Oh, that is a beautiful name. Miss Glory, do you think I could get a cup of tea?” <br><br>Amanda laughed and leaned against the car door. “She’s really something. Glad you got there in time.” Her eyes locked on his and she pushed to her feet, crossing the distance between with slow strides that held more than tiny sway of hips. “Mrs. Denaghy is well cared for.” She murmured, rising to tiptoe with a hand upon Mordecai’s shoulder. “What about you?” Amanda whispered. “I promised I’d take care of you.” Soft lips found his earlobe and he could feel her warm breathing caress the sensitive skin. “And I believe you need a bath, a drink and clean clothes. Not necessarily in that order..” Her soft, teasing laughter was an intimate sound shared between them. “Now, since at least two of those things involve undressing I suggest I’d drive you home… Unless you’d like me to start here…” She was deliberately teasing, a finger tip tugging at his shirt in playful emphasis of her ‘threat’.&nbsp; &nbsp;<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>20-12-2008, 19:45:14</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Ginseed seemed wordless for most of the ride, managing to give them his bright boyish smiles, but seemingly unable to defend himself against the giggly, teasing onslaught from the two women in the Jeep with him - or maybe he just knew better than to try.&nbsp; With his hat off once more, he held out a hand to help Mrs. Denaghy down; for a small lady, she had a lot of strength in those arthritic hands, and despite the good show she put on, she was still shaking just a little.&nbsp; Adrenaline did that to a person.<br><br>For the instant they were alone, Mrs. Denaghy cocked her head back and looked Ginseed right in the eyes,<br><br>"You're a good boy." she said finally, after a long silence.&nbsp; Oddly, it sounded almost as though she was trying to reassure him of it.<br><br>"Thank y'ma'am."<br><br>"But you're not from Canada," she added, "And you weren't scared, were you?&nbsp; You just dove in."<br><br>Ginseed didn't get a chance to answer, because the hostess had arrived - and Ginseed found himself grateful for it - and Mrs. Denaghy was taken along, back to the hotel for a cup of tea and hopefully a good long rest.&nbsp; Amanda was back as well, and he nodded his head, a small agreement that he was glad to have gotten there in time,<br><br>"Got lucky," he said, "She's a tough thing, I think she might'a beaten the croc's head in 'fore it could do anything to her anyways -"<br><br>Ginseed's voice broke in his throat then when she made eye contact with him, because there was something about the look she was giving him that made him choke on his words,<br><br>"Really, I'm just fine, Ms. Lassiter," he managed as she rose on her tip-toes to whisper to him - and then he felt her lips on the shell of his ear and was unable to suppress a small shudder that went through him.&nbsp; For an instant, Ginseed looked as though he might even scuff his shoe against the ground, the very picture of sheepishness and a gentleman to the core, and he appeared to be trying to busy himself, distract himself by looking up at the sky, down at his shoes, mussing up his hair, almost as though embarrassed by his own reaction,<br><br>"If I didn't know any better, Ms. Lassiter - I'd say you're flirtin' with me." he said, and tried to collect himself, "Um, how 'bout we go for that drink, I've got a well-stocked bar so - anything y'like."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Imogen</strong> on <strong>24-12-2008, 18:12:55</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				“Perhaps just a tiny little bit.” Thumb and index finger measured just how little she’d flirted. Amanda grinned and climbed behind the wheel. “I’d have thought you’d be used to that by now, Mr Ginseed.” She admitted with a sidelong glance at her companion once they’d joined the traffic. The warm Miami wind rolled through their hair and Amanda glance at Mordecai. His hair had dried and, mussed by wind and water, begged for her fingers’ smoothing caress. His lips held that ever congenial, if shy smile, but Amanda found she couldn’t quite read the look in his eyes. <br><br>“I thought you were pranking me when you signed up for the tour.” She kept her eyes on the road. “If you did, I’m glad. Mrs. Denaghy will be fine, and you’ve saved us a boring barbecue.” Amanda laughed easily, but avoided looking at Ginseed. Her dark locks bounced over her shoulders, lifted by the breeze and bumps in the road whenever she ‘forgot’ to avoid the gaps and rocks. Amanda liked a bumpy road, apparently. “That’s when James starts his stories. But we shall have none of that!” She cheered laughingly. “Instead we’re heading for a drink, and this time I’ll be guided by you and your well-stocked bar, Lancelot.” <br><br>Amanda hit the brakes and rolled the car into the driveway, coming to a stop before Ginseed’s home. She hopped from the car and reached in the back, collecting her camera bag. Adjusting the strap over her shoulder, she raised her dark, smoldering gaze to Mordecai. “Here we are.” His presence fired her imagination, insinuating possibilities of&nbsp; tousled sheets and tangled limbs, she could hear the sound of Mordecai’s deep, warm laughter and feel the heat radiating from his body. How would his voice sound in bed? <br><br>A slight frown settled between her brows as Amanda’s thoughts were torn from pleasurable fantasies to the reality of Mordecai’s voice, or rather - his accent. Houston? Canada? <br><br>Or…<br><br>Neither?<br><br>Her fingers came to rest protectively upon the clasps securing her bag. She had to get this mark completed… and fast! <br><br>Mere moments passed, and Amanda found her smile, bestowing its glorious warmth upon Mordecai Ginseed.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>07-01-2009, 19:29:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				A small nod from Ginseed indicated he wasn't completely opposed to the flirtation, but he didn't say much more on the matter, as though he thought it might be impolite to do so, regardless of everything they had been through so far.&nbsp; He allowed himself to relax as he got into the passenger seat of the car - which, thankfully, had room for his long legs without completely crushing him, and he watched Miami whir by the windshield.&nbsp; By then, most of him was dry from a combination of sun, wind, and dry heat, but there was still a vague stickiness that he knew was due to the algae and sand that was in the pond, and his hair was mussed and out of control, a bit of sand sticking to his cheek still.<br><br>He felt her eyes on him, and looked down at his cargo pants, as though embarrassed, and plucked away bits of plant leftover from the swamp area,<br><br>"Honestly, Miss Lassiter - I'm not entirely sure what I was doin' there," he admitted sheepishly, "I guess I just came 'cause I wanted to see the smile you'd have once you recognized it was me.&nbsp; Hadn't expected things to go quite the way they did.&nbsp; James is a real charmin' fellow, though, ain't he?"<br><br>He didn't ask how Amanda knew where he lived; if she'd been able to find his phone number, finding the address would be just as easy - for some people this was unnerving, but as far as Ginseed was concerned, most people knew how to use a phone book and the internet these days.<br><br>In the daylight, the home near the water looked modern and welcoming with its wide windows and broad deck, but humble for a guy as well-off as Ginseed was.&nbsp; There was a small cactus garden off to the side of the deck, and a low fence slung around the expanse of the property.&nbsp; Opening the gate for her, Ginseed led Amanda down the pathway and to the front door, which he opened for her as well; the inside of the building was built with an open design concept, few doors to block rooms from eachother.&nbsp; The design of the place was simple, with a few small hints of a Texan background, but there were no personal pictures anywhere in sight, only a few professional photographs, mostly of landscapes - moonlit deserts, and deep-hued sunsets over blue waters.&nbsp; <br><br>The bar was as well-stocked as he'd said it was, a large, mahogany one that appeared to have been hand-made, and the front of it had a small carving at the front of it which was, oddly, the image of a stylized chameleon.&nbsp; Around it were comfortable dark seats, padded with red upholstery; Ginseed moved around behind the bar then, washing his hands off at the sink,<br><br>"What's your poison, Miss Lassiter?" he asked, figuring he could make her a drink to keep her vaguely distracted while he showered and changed.<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Imogen</strong> on <strong>09-01-2009, 14:41:37</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				“Just something simple, please. I still have to drive.” Amanda chuckled, eyeing the bar appreciatively as she set her camera bag in one of the dark comfy chairs. “A lil splash of Grand Marnier would be nice.” She observed from which bottle he poured for himself and smiled, turning towards the photographs adorning the walls. “These are quite lovely, very atmospheric. Did you visit these places, Mr Ginseed?” For all its open, welcoming feel the house guarded its secrets well. There was very little that told of Mordecai’s past or present relationships, and nothing to give away a possible hiding place for his rumored wealth. If not for the staff pressing their noses to the glass, Amanda would have wondered if he had any ties at all. <br><br>“To the fair Ms. Denaghy and Lancelot, bless their hearts.” She raised her glass in formal salute. More pensive than her usual happy-go-lucky demeanor, Amanda swirled her drink and watched the ice cubes tumble in the amber liquid. There had been something about the old dame that had struck a nerve. Ms. Denaghy had been classy and kind, possessing the kind of grace that was rare in today’s selfish society. And yet, she had seemed to recognize something in Mordecai that Amanda had missed. <br><br>Her gaze raised from the glass to find Ginseed standing there still, only a little less shy on his own turf than out in the urban jungle. She smiled, that one smile that lit up her face and added warmth that radiated from within. “Go shower.” Amanda urged gently. “Me and my Grand Marnier will be fine.” Indicating one of the pictures with a raised drink, she continued. “I am trying to determine which lens the photographer used. I’ll be entertained for quite some time.” She winked and brought the glass to her lips. “Not a mere wide-angle…”<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>09-01-2009, 16:28:06</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				A nod from Ginseed and he poured her a finger's worth of Marnier, gently pushing the squat, round glass towards her, and there was a moment's pause before he brought out a bottle of Ballantine's whiskey, pouring himself a small amount as well, mindful of how much he had; he lifted his own glass a little, though he just gave her a small smile at her toast.<br><br>"The desert one, that's way out in Nevada," Ginseed said, gesturing with the hand that held the glass, "Old friend'a mine is a talent with his camera, happened to have it with him when there was a harvest moon out there, it was quite the sight, Ms. Lassiter.&nbsp; World's a pretty place sometimes, an' it always finds a way'a surprisin' you - and all the Mrs. Denaghy's and James' in the world just make it more interestin'."<br><br>He drained his glass in one go, and scratched irritably at the sand that had stuck in his hair,<br><br>"Alright, I'm just gonna go try an' get the dirt outta my hair at least," he said, and gently set the Marnier bottle on the counter, adding, "If y'feel like more."<br><br>And he patted the bartop once before heading out of the room and up the stairs; peeling off his clothes, he got into the shower and set about the task of washing away the Miami swamplands from him.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Imogen</strong> on <strong>11-01-2009, 19:23:31</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The pause had not gone unnoticed, and Amanda watched Mordecai’s exit with a pensive stare. Men who poured their favorite drink usually did not pause, their handling bottle and glasses betrayed their habit. A shame, rather, drugging a man’s drink had always proven an easy and painless way of buying precious extra time. Not now, of course, although time was running short. <br><br>Setting to work, Amanda breezed through the house like a ray of sunshine… barely there, vanishing without a trace once she’d left a room. The bedroom only received a swift glance, just in case Mordecai was not so shy as to shower with the door closed and locked. The other rooms yielded little of interested, all were as normal and abnormal as she’d come to expect. Full of every day utensils but little that would mark the house as Ginseed’s. It could have been ordered from a catalogue, pretty and efficient, but without personality. She was near despairing by the time she reached the kitchen.<br><br>Like the rest of the house, the kitchen was as luxurious and well stocked as one might expect, but also like the other rooms, there was little to testify its owner actually lived in the mansion. The only part slightly out of place, and more in tune with her hopes was a locked hatch door to the cellars. Perhaps Ginseed just wished to protect his rare wines from the casual visitor, perhaps he had an alcoholic housekeeper… but Amanda had the distinct feeling she’d hit the jackpot… And if the lock had been a normal padlock, she’d been happier still. But no, nothing with Mordecai Ginseed had gone as it should, and the lock was just another of those minor setbacks destined to ruin her good mood: a number pad seemed to laugh at her, and the brunette rolled her eyes. She didn’t even try his birthday; he’d never use that date. It did not fit his profile. <br><br>With a sigh, she left her discovery for now, and returned to the living room to nurture her drink and smile until Mordecai returned<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>23-01-2009, 12:41:28</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				When Ginseed came down the stairs again, his hair was clean and sticking out at bizarre angles, and he had gone against his usual tendency to wear formal clothes, and was instead wearing a pair of dark jeans, bare feet, and a crisp black t-shirt that seemed to be sticking to his still slightly damp skin.&nbsp; He put a hand back through his wild hair in an attempt to tame it again, but it wasn't obeying him right then, and chose to remain sticking out.<br><br>"Care t'go out on the front porch, Miss Lassiter?" he asked, stepping around the bar and pouring himself another small amount of whiskey; his skin was a little pink from what had clearly been a hot shower, and the colour made his eyes look even brighter, and the boyish smile was on his face again, the sunlight coming in through the bay window and casting stripes of light across his body, even lighting up the whiskey so it looked like a small glass of gold,<br><br>"Got a great view of the horizon here - I know some Miami residents take it for granted, but I just don't get tired of it.&nbsp; 'Specially 'round this time of year, the skyline against the water looks like fire and ice."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Imogen</strong> on <strong>23-01-2009, 17:17:49</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Perhaps it was the light playing tricks, but Amanda’s dark eyes seemed to light up when Ginseed returned. “What? No more Hawaiian shirts?” She teased, eyeing his torso appreciatively. The damp hair, the t-shirt and those jeans… perhaps Mordecai’s clinging to formality was a blessing for female society. “Sure.” She consented easily. “Wouldn’t want to miss it.” She stepped out onto the porch and draped a hand over the wooden fence, raising the Amaretto to her lips with the other. Dark eyes turned towards the skyline. <br><br>In rare moments such as these, she might have believed in an almighty God as such perfection could not have been brought to life by random chance. The silence, the hum of the mosquito's, a faint hum that came from within the house... the kitchen, probably. She was aware of Ginseed's presence behind her; she smelled his shampoo on the damp breeze. Words seemed redundant and so she remained silent, adding the taste of amaretto to this night's impressions.<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>17-03-2009, 11:50:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Ginseed offered another boyish smile,<br><br>"I could go put one on if y'like the tropical look better," he said; though Ginseed wasn't the sort to wear them for anything but a practical joke, he had a few of the ridiculous shirts somewhere in his closet.&nbsp; He approached the balcony and leaned his arms up against it; in the low light, his forearms flexed visibly against the wood, and without his usual suit jacket on, there was a raised, ragged white scar that emerged from under the sleeve of his t-shirt from the shoulder and running down towards his elbow.&nbsp; By the looks of it, it was a few years old.<br><br>He closed his eyes as a brief breeze drifted over them, feeling the warmth through his damp hair and he opened his eyes to the sunset again - the sun was at half-mast at that point, nearly on the water, and it was casting a glow like fire across them,<br><br>"Even when the world's changin' 'round us, least the sunset's still the same." he said brightly, "Somethin' with consistency."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Imogen</strong> on <strong>18-03-2009, 14:32:19</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				“Is anything ever really the same?” She offers, eyes drinking in the magnificent view. Several moments of silence pass, wherein only the crickets chime their song, when Amanda pensively recites a few well known lines in her soft, melodious voice.<br><i><br>And you run and you run to catch up with the sun, but it’s sinking<br>And racing around to come up behind you again<br>The sun is the same in the relative way, but you’re older<br>Shorter of breath and one day closer to death<br></i><br>She turns towards him. Her hip rests against the balcony, and one shapely leg crosses over the other. One foot toes the ground, her body poised in feline, graceful balance. A long stroke of her hand caresses the railing, fingertips lingering on the smooth wood. “There are few things in the world to count upon, time after time.” She muses. “Death and taxes, or so they say, are among the inevitable.” Her warm laughter chases whatever gloom might have dwelled from her words and she raises her glass to Ginseed. “But for me, I would like to add the discovery of beauty and joy, in small blessings or large.” She confesses with a breathy chuckle, eyes drawing back to the glorious sunset. “Carpe Diem. There is no time like the present.” <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>18-03-2009, 15:10:06</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				While there was something feline about Amanda's posture, there must have been something canine about Ginseed's because he seemed to melt against the balcony, his muscles relaxed, elbows pitched forward on the railing, looking completely at ease with his eyes on the sunset.&nbsp; When Amanda turned, he looked over at her, eyebrows rising only slightly, and he lifted his own glass in response, <br><br>"I'd say that we well and truly siezed this day," Ginseed said, taking a swig of the burning liquid, feeling it warm down his throat and into his chest; he reflected on the day so far, and considered that at the very least it had been memorable.&nbsp; And, as the sun sank further down, they would be able to see the silhouette of something creeping along the shore - an alligator, ancient and enormous, was moving along near the water, letting out a low snuff of air, lingering.<br><br>"He comes around a lot," he said, moving a little closer to Amanda so he could point out the big animal to her, "Sometimes real late, other times early in the morning - old fella, but still a powerhouse."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Imogen</strong> on <strong>31-03-2009, 13:31:52</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Amanda's healthy complexion paled considerably. The dark lashes dived and she averted her gaze from the monster, lingering on Mordecai's broad chest. "A good thing then..."She murmured, "to have a knight in shining armor nearby." Even from their safe distance, she could tell the size of the lumbering monster, outlined against the evening palette. <i>Someone just walked over my grave</i>, she thought, shivering. <br><br>Cool fingertips danced over Ginseed's chest, and Amanda bowed her head, willing to sink against the warm shelter her target provided. Stealthy glances traveled to the primal monstrosity stalking the horizon and her caress left their intended tease. Both hands clasped her glass when she turned to regard the alligator. "I can't decide whether I feel he's an anachronism to our time, or whether we've invaded his. The swamps do that to you... Forget time and place." She mused. "You'd almost feel a settler here, far away from civilization." Neither the cars on the drive way nor the buzzing of electrical appliances could chase away that feeling of being out of time. Miami seemed lightyears away. She was here. And Ginseed. And a monster. But that one was far away, and would be dealt with in time.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sevenpercentsolution</strong> on <strong>05-04-2009, 00:19:23</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The reptile was slung along the edge of the water, half in the sand and half in the ocean, his jaws open just slightly as though held in a perpetual yawn, and the orange sunlight came in through the side of his mouth, illuminating the rows of sharp, ragged teeth.&nbsp; He had stopped moving, as though he had come to rest there, and Ginseed observed it with a peculiar fondness.<br><br>It was funny how Amanda thought the monster was on the beach.<br><br>Ginseed felt her fingers brush against his chest, felt her move just that little bit closer and he could feel her body heat; were he a man of lesser willpower, his response may have been something more spontaneous, but rather than doing something - ungentlemanly - he hesitated, watched her for a long moment, observed her as she observed the horizon.<br><br>"S'why I like it out here," he said, "Away from the crowds and the lights, away from the parties.&nbsp; Can't tell if this location makes me feel more human or less human, but it's comfortable out here."<br><br>Another hesitation, another sideways glance, and then he very carefully put an arm around Amanda's slim waist, gently pulled her so her back was against his chest, an embrace that didn't force any commitment or request anything beyond the simple touch.&nbsp; It was a quiet sort of boldness.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Imperfect Mark (SevenxImo)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Imogen</strong> on <strong>09-04-2009, 13:38:43</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The gesture was everything she'd hoped for, ever since the suggestion to move outside had been made. A delicate shift of weight fitted Amanda to Ginseed's chest, and her arms crossed over his. The glass had warmed between her fingers and rested snugly against his skin. When her head came to rest against his broad chest, Amanda narrowed her eyes at the view and curled a lazy, smug smile. A winner's smile. <br><br>"More yourself?" She guessed, cautiously watching the monster from the safety of their embrace. "Here, you don't have to pretend." Ironic, that, coming from her. "Whatever you do here, stays between you and the silence." She smiled. "The swamps won't tell. I could imagine it'd be liberating,although I wouldn't go skinny dipping here." A chuckle and a nod towards the ever present watcher. <br>
			</dd>
		</dl>
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