Mrs Nadir Khan

Santiago Ortiz

Myron’s sense of humor was rubbing off on him. Santiago would have hung himself from the theatre rafters if he’d said “look, two dummies in tuxedos” a couple years ago. It was beyond corny. But, though he didn’t want to admit it, Santiago was nervous. He wasn’t biting his nails or huddled in the fetal position, but he was losing his best friend to the vortex of marriage. This was why Santiago hated needing people. They all left eventually. Gisele, Lorenzo, Rachel, Myron… No one stayed. He should have known better than to get attached by now. Myron sighed—though Santiago wasn’t sure why—and cocked a brow.

"I wasn't aware there was a fun part," he said monotonously.

Santiago smirked. Maybe there was a chance Myron and Madeleine would postpone indefinitely. That Santiago could handle… Myron brushed past him.

"Come on, my fellow," said Myron in an overly exaggerated British accent. "We shall make a tuxedo wearing stud, out of you yet."

Santiago resisted the urge to retch. Tuxedo wearing stud. The last time he’d worn a goddamn tuxedo had been to one of the goddamn masquerades to make his now ex-girlfriend happy. He was done trying to please people with his clothes. He’d show up to the next gala in jeans and his grungiest, sweatiest t-shirt, if he so desired. And for Myron’s wedding— Myron’s wedding was about Myron. Santiago would truss up in a tuxedo if his friend wanted him to, but until his own funeral, Santiago wasn’t wearing another suit ever.

Myron halted and looked at the dozens of tuxedos on display. Santiago bit his lip, this time really staving off the urge to the urge to hurl. It was like looking at the sea of patrons he had to schmooze with when he drew the short end of the stick at work.

"Remind me why I just can't get married in my boxers?"

“Because if you get married in a church, God will kick you out,” Santiago retorted flatly. He sighed and shook his head. “Let’s just get this part over with. Come on.”

witch

OCC: For Bella and Damon

Bella Whimsy Grace

For all the world Bella didn't know what had coursed her to open the door to the shop known as 'Chanel.' She told herself that she was here for research for a character in one of her upcoming stories. A high fashion model or a muti-million dollar movie star.

The high-class fashion wasn't really her style though there had been one corset that had court her eye not that she'd ever be able to afford it. Some would claim that her choice of attire was rather Gothic the dagger necklace around her neck coupled with a soft velvet jacket and netted skirt and in a way they would be right....or at least that's what the ever present looks and whispers claimed but Bella simply loved things that were different.

So many people tried to fit into a certain role in life, the patrons and the Rouge were always dressed up matching their noises and the women were no better. The costumes were always over the top making her grateful she was only a barkeep though again some would claim HER attire to be somewhat costume like. Bella was simply Bella like it or not, leave it or lump it and that was just the attitude she placed upon herself as her eyes scanned over the people around her.

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angelofthenight

Damon Caffrey

Damon had decided he needed a little personal time. He had come to the nicest fashion district in the city, not hesitating to smile and wink and the beautiful women that he saw. Damon wasn’t looking for anyone to even share a coffee with but he was greatly appreciative of the beauty around him, especially when they wore the latest fashion in high heels and a revealing sundress that reminded all present that Spring had arrived. Damon walked down the street in a casual shirt and pants that was perhaps a little underdressed for the area but he had come here with a reason. It had been far too long since he had treated himself and purchased a new suit. He found himself window shopping here and there but wasn’t tantalized nor tempted by any thing that he saw until he came face to face with the suit display in the window of Chanel. The store’s inventory was well known across the city and Damon had always intended to check out what was so great about one of boutiques of the highest caliber. Damon glanced around as if he didn’t want anyone to see him but that wasn’t it at all, it was just more of a matter knowing that he was making a statement by entering the store, only the wealthiest shopped here and Damon had every intention of not walking out empty handed. He smiled to himself, Paris never ceased to surprise him in a way that reminded him that life on the run could be just as luxurious as his life in LA and New York.

The bell over the door jangled gently, announcing his arrival that no one turned to acknowledge as he strode over the threshold and winked a woman who met his gaze and turned away quickly. Damon walked with serious intent over to one of the numerous wracks of suits, of all different colors and styles. Damon fingered them and closed his eyes, relishing the touch of the silk running through his fingers. Damon cared very much about the message his clothes shared with the world and so ever since he had entered the world of conning he had strived to dress confidently and self-assured, knowing perfectly well that half the battle was appearing confident and certain about who you were and what you were doing. As he fingered a dark brown suit that he didn’t really feel to be his style he thought back to one of the first scams he had ever run, which included a business he had started in the Caymen islands where he sold properties to private buyers… land that he had never owned. He had forged the lease documents himself and made enough money off the deals that he could have retired than and there. But it had only been the beginning for him as he had discovered ways to forge both bank notes and personal checks into different accounts to avoid suspicion. Then he had taken to impersonating professionals that interested him… one his favorite had been a pilot; before he had realized the danger of him being in the cockpit without pilot training. So he had given that up for other things, one thing led to another and here he stood in the beautiful city of Paris with no regrets.

Damon settled on a cream-colored suit and grabbed a plum colored tie off the rack. He stared at himself in the mirror and smiled. It was perfect and he looked damned good. He adjusted a tie and out of the corner of his eye he saw a woman, dressed in a rather gothic style staring at him from across the store. Well she wasn’t staring at him, but he had caught her gaze from a distant and she had looked away almost shyly. Once again adjusting his tie he started to take a more indirect route towards this rather mysterious girl, dressed an even more strange style; who seemed to have taken an interest in his suit shopping enough to observe him from afar. Damon found himself standing behind her now. She was fingering a purple scarf… or at least Damon thought it was a scarf. “Don’t you think black would be more your… style?” He asked, his eyes amused his tone teasing as gazed at this strange girl. Paris got more and more interesting every day.

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witch

Bella Whimsy Grace

They all seemed to be in their own little worlds, unseeing to those around them unless, like them, they had money as if any other lifeform was beneath them and not worth their time.

Stuck up snobs she thought to herself watching for a second as one man seemed to run his fingers over a rack of suits making her wonder why he didn't just pick one. She'd never understand people with money, she'd never really understand people period, save for the ones in stories and books though there seemed to be a set stereotype for each and as of yet, she hadn't found a single one that stepped outside it though the man now standing in front of the mirror seemed a little out or place and for a reason she couldn't quite place.

Her gaze turned away when their gazes meet in the world of mirrors her hands finding themselves wrapped up in scarfs.

“Don’t you think black would be more your… style?”

Lifting her gaze her eyes landed upon the man she had been watching, he now stood a mere few inches away from her. Letting her hands drop and question fill her gaze for a moment she couldn't help the small, slow clap inside her head.

Think of that all of your own?

"Really and why would you think that?" she instead questioned her own tone taking on a slight tease. "Besides what would you know of a women's style? Strawberries and cream or that you secretly own a few dozen dresses? Wouldn't be the first."

It was as she was thinking of walking away that her mind clicked.

"Of course you may have learned something from the hours you spend at the Rouge yes? I mean Kitty does have a certain style though I would think it much different than mine."

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