ota {when in Rome}

[intolerantly]

One of the benefits of being heir-apparent to one of the Deck's oldest families, Ivona had long since decided, was that everyone knew who you were. Which, in turn, meant that she never had to stand in line, wait to be seated, or was ignored in favor of another, lesser customer. Which wasn't to say that she flaunted her name and Rank, absurd; she didn't have to.

No, most of the shopkeepers were more than happy to cater to Milady Ivona's every wish and whim--it probably helped that she was usually a generous tipper, too, regardless of the service, be it dry cleaning, shoe repair, special orders or simply having a latte in the corner deli down in Town. And it was a heady feeling, being courted thus. Ivona stifled a chuckle as poor Jamison was loaded down with his lady's dry cleaning, signing off on the ticket and adding a good twenty percent extra.

"There's a good lad, James," she said with an unsympathetic smile, pocketing her checkbook. "And do take care not to wrinkle my Valentino, if you please."

The Two, all but buried under clothing bags, grunted agreement and staggered out of the shop, Ivona following. She had several other stops to make this afternoon; bookstore, shoe store, market--she'd been craving some strawberries with real cream for a few days and was determined to procure. The day was hers, and she was long overdue for a bit of indulgence.

Comments

[wouldbetrump]

"Oh, I do recall." Clive said, with a bit of a sigh before pressed his lips together. "However, I don't see why you have to so...antagonistic toward Amy. She's done nothing to you, and is rather sweet if you bothered to know her."

He stopped and smiled at a passer by before he opened the door for Ivona into the bookstore. "Can we all just make nice?"

[intolerantly]

Ivona's smile was just as falsely cordial. "Rather sweet for an alcoholic? Or rather sweet for someone who falls apart every time the wind changes, you mean?" Don't be stupid, Clive; Ivona was born a Spade, too. She knew how things were. Especially with a pathetic lump such as Amy Sinclair.

Preceding him into the bookstore, she cut a glance back over her shoulder. "Be careful, or when you leave her alone and bereft, she might actually be unsalvageable this time." Ivona swept in regally, not even looking back. Yeah, he deserved that one.

[wouldbetrump]

Clive stood at the door, watching her for a long moment as he pressed his lips together and suppressed the urge to snarl at her. It wasn't worth it to make a scene, he knew, but that did not stop him from feeling the temptation rise.

"What are you trying to get at, My Lady?" He asked in a low voice when he caught up to her again. "That I would chose to cause Amy some sort of pain for...fun?"

[intolerantly]

Already perusing the shelves for the books she wanted, Ivona didn't bother turning around. She knew Clive wasn't about to cause a scene, oh no, which more or less gave her carte blanche as far as verbal sallies went.

Thumbing through a tome, she replied absently, "Not at all, Sire. I'm sure you somehow manage to justify your actions accordingly, to help you sleep at night, or whatever."

She snapped the book closed and returned it to the shelf, moving down a section and running her finger down the spines before selecting another. "And I'm sure you just adore playing the 'hero' for the poor pathetic girl. Since you can't do otherwise."

[wouldbetrump]

"Would if kill you to get over it?" He snapped after a moment, his voice still low as his eyes narrowed a little bit. "I am sorry that we didn't end in the fairy tale you wanted...but don't I would greatly like for us to be able to work together."

He glanced the way of the shop clerk, before he took a sharp breath and set his jaw a little in his most stubborn of manners.

"Tea was probably a bad idea," he said after a moment, "so I dearly hope you're shopping day goes well." He should really learn to not try talking to her.

[intolerantly]

"Not at all, Sire," Ivona replied breezily. "I've survived without you for this long, haven't I?" She smirked a chuckle. "Honestly, Clive, you're not as coveted as you believe you are. Trust me on that one."

She didn't even glance up from the book she was skimming.

"Thank you most kindly. It's been a peach thus far."

Now, she did look up, bestowing a brilliantly bright smile for her monarch/ex-lover/man-she'd-gleefully-strangle-breathless-who-happened-to-be-the-one-she-still-cared-for.

"I'll be sure to convey your compliments and good wishes to your grandmother tomorrow. No doubt she's been bereft of your company more often, since your social life has escalated."