a fine looking high horse// {stare}

[sbeeg]

Take me to church
I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies
I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife
Offer me that deathless death
Good God, let me give you my life

Laces are pulled tight, buttons slid into place, and collars pressed flat. Your fingers run over your head making sure every last hair was in place. Hazel eyes dart from your reflection to the stack of cash on your dresser. The rubber band held together every dollar the woman had requested, plus a little extra you added in special. It was only fitting to add a few more bills since she was injured on the job. Of course you had never done that before, but who says policies can't change?

Long fingers slid the cash in the pocket on the inside of your jacket and you're out into the night, squinting against the dim glow of streetlights. Trembling hands go to your pants pocket only to find your cigarette case empty. Damnation. You had spent most of the day putting together Alicia's pay day and had forgotten to buy a new pack. Suddenly, all you wanted in the world was a smoke. Running your tongue over your top teeth you brace yourself for the encounter.

The restaurant is warm, almost too warm. The air settled on the back of your neck like a wool scarf threatening to steam you out of your skin. You mumble something about a reservation and the girl wearing a generous amount of lip stick shows you to a small table for two. Quickly ordering a water, you settle into your chair. There's no reason to be nervous tonight. No reason at all.

Then why are your hands shaking underneath the table cloth?

For the first time in a very long time you felt your stomach twisting into a knot at the thought of speaking. Normally, you couldn't shut your mouth to save your life but right now the thought of deflecting every thing Alicia threw your way made you want to clam up. If you only have a fucking cigarette! That's what some might call an addiction but right now you could care less about your health. Just the familiar weight of one in your fingers would be a comfort right now.

It'll be fine you tell yourself, biting down on your lower lip like it was a bullet and you were some rebel soldier getting their leg cut off in the field. Just fine.

[Stare]

town crier, village flyer got a
skull and cross bones on his chest
and i can't resist
when he looks like this

Alicia glared at her reflection, palms smoothing loose strands of hair away from her face. Her heart was hammering in her chest as she evaluated herself for the umpteenth time, taking in her pale, grim expression and narrowed blue eyes. The dress she was wearing was short, black, and uncomfortable, but it was the second nicest one she owned. The first was lying in the corner of her room, blue fabric wrinkled and collecting dust. She hadn’t touched it since the night she’d met Benedict and didn’t intend to do so for a long time. When her eyes swept over the rest of the room she flushed, teeth gritting in annoyance. An array of clothing was discarded on her bed and the floor, shoes kicked this way and that. She must have spent an hour agonizing over something as simple as a stupid outfit. Turning back to the mirror, she smoothed out a wrinkle in the skirt of the dress, frown deepening. This was just like any number of appointments she’d set up to collect her pay, and she’d never given a damn about what she looked like for any of those.

But Benedict Nolan always managed to be the exception to every rule, didn’t he?

Alicia fumbled around in her closet until she found a pair of tall black leather boots. She paused, thumb gently rubbing off a smudge of dirt on the toe. Her parents had given her these boots for her birthday just a few years before. She remembered delight sweeping through her, though it was quickly followed by guilt. Her parents couldn’t afford the luxuries they were always trying to give her, regardless of the money she slipped into their wallets and pockets when they weren’t looking. They were good people, honest people, and consequently they made exactly the amount of money that any honest person in Nine made, which wasn’t a lot. She’d sworn that she would be different after a lifetime of watching them strain themselves trying to preserve a happy family, and as she pulled the boots on her expression became resolute. She would not be disarmed by her opponent that night, no matter how arrogant, clever, infuriating, and - dare she admit it - charming he was.

She yanked on a jacket, glancing out the window at the darkened streets. “Mom! Dad!” she called out, not waiting for a response. “I’m going out to meet a - ” Her sentence ended abruptly, and she hesitated. “ - a person I know. I’ll be back later.” They responded cheerfully with the usually be careful and don’t stay out too late and maybe next time they can come over here? She ducked her head and braced herself against the cool wind as she stepped outside, teeth chattering and hair whipping into her eyes. Her mind flashed to a small room, dim light, warm hands, clashing lips. She blushed despite herself. If only they knew.

The restaurant was one of her favorites. She had vivid memories of standing before it on summer nights as a child, wide eyes staring at flower lined windows and the district’s wealthier citizens sitting at candlelit tables. As she stepped inside and shed her coat she couldn’t help but smirk when one of the staff actually took it from her to hang it up. Benedict certainly wouldn’t be impressed - she was sure he was used to snowy white tablecloths and fabric napkins - but she knew she would always grin at the luxuries she had earned by being underhanded. Glancing into the room she quickly caught sight of him, his back turned to her, and allowed herself a single moment to be afraid. Her stomach clenched, her palms anxiously ran over the fabric of her dress, and she drew in a deep, steadying breath. Then, turning to the woman at the front, she flashed a wide, if somewhat hesitant, smile. “I have a reservation, you see,” she announced, never tiring of the words. Her head jerked in the direction of Benedict’s table. “With Mr. Nolan.”

The woman’s eyebrows rose ever so slightly but she made no comment, instead nodding her consent. “Your menu should be there already, Miss Klare.” Miss Klare. There was only one other person in all of District Nine who had called her that, and those two syllables were enough to make her dizzy with memories she’d been trying to forget ever since the night they’d happened. She forced them back, straightened, and plastered on a smirk that she knew made her look a lot more confident than she felt. He could tear down her defenses without even trying, which meant she’d have to put forth an extra effort to ensure his came down first.

She wordlessly walked over until she was beside him, leaning over onto the table, her arm brushing against his. The proximity made her skin feel impossibly warm but she ignored the feeling, instead glancing at his glass and then his face, eyebrows raised slightly. “Just water? If I were you, I would have ordered something strong.” Warm, calculated, smooth. He’d caught her off guard last time, and while she knew she was still at a distinct disadvantage (he had her money and she had messed up on the job), she had come prepared. Or at least, as prepared as she could be. They were close, and she was irritated at how difficult it was for her to resist the urge to kiss him. Instead she moved away and slid into her seat, folding her hands neatly. She swore he’d be able to hear her heart pounding even from across the table. She wanted nothing more than get right to the point and leave before she did something she would regret, but she knew better. A beat of small talk always had to come before business deals. Not only was it smart, but it was polite. Her eyes scanned over him once, and she’d be lying if she said her gaze didn’t linger on his lips for an instant longer than necessary. “You look very nice tonight, Mr. Nolan.” She was surprised at how genuine she sounded and hurried on to territory she was more comfortable with. “I trust you have my money somewhere in that lovely suit?”

no it's too much, burn my sun
up in flames we go, you fire breather
ash and dust on my door, smoke rise
trying to survive inside your arms

[sbeeg]

If I'm a pagan of the good times
My lover's the sunlight
To keep the Goddess on my side
She demands a sacrifice

You were so busy trying to convince yourself that you could make it through the encounter that you nearly missed it starting. One moment you're alone, damning yourself to hell and back about forgetting cigarettes, the next she's here. Her skin presses against yours and her face is too close to yours. Your fingers no longer itch for the weight of tobacco, nor do your lips long for the taste of smoke. Your body has switched its obsession and you find yourself wanting every part of the woman in front of you. Her laughter in your ear, the weight of her head against your chest, the sensation of running your fingertips across her skin.

“Just water? If I were you, I would have ordered something strong.” You can only gape at her, struggling to find a snappy retort to throw at her but your search is fruitless. Your suit jacket feels like the sun itself but you can't give up a single inch of ground around this woman. She will steal every bit of it away in even a second's moment of weakness.

Alicia turned to sit and you received a full view of her outfit. A little black dress that clung to her in every possible place. The fabric barely reaching down far enough to keep her decent, showing off her pale thighs to everyone. To you.

You swallow hard, and thank lady luck that there is a tablecloth to hide your lower half.

Her lips effortlessly form a compliment that seems to float through the air until it reaches your own. It was nice hearing something so simple from a complicated woman like Alicia. Of course it was immediately followed by a inquiry to where you had her money stored.

You want to be strong, you want to fight the desire that threatens to over power you any second now. But sitting face to face with the roses and cream complexion, plump lips, and long red hair....

You find yourself breaking.

No, no. You must fight fire with fire. Use the lust you feel for her to make her sit in the hot seat as well.


"Would you like to take it out yourself?" you smirk, holding one side of your suit open. Inviting her to come over and take what was hers, and you don't mean just the cash.

[Stare]

you're a red string tied to my finger
a little love letter i carry with me
you're sunlight, smoke rings and cigarettes
outlines and kisses from silver screens

She fell into old habits easily, pulling her silverware from the fabric napkin and smoothing it over her lap, keeping her forearms rested against the table’s edge. Her parents may not have been wealthy but they’d drilled formalities and etiquette into her as if they were. At the time she’d thought it was it pointless, but sitting across from Benedict she found herself glad. Glad for the professionalism, glad for the familiarity, and mostly glad for the distraction. His gaze felt like fire, burning and - Ripred help her - not unwelcome even as she avoided it, folding her hands together to keep them from shaking.

“Would you like to take it out yourself?”

Her head snapped up at that, heart leaping into her throat. If she’d thought her skin was warm before, then it was absolutely burning then. She couldn’t stop the onslaught of memories that descended upon her with those words - memories of a dimly lit room, lips against her throat, low laughter and words that wouldn’t come out quite the way she wanted them to. She’d never admit it, not to him or anyone else in the world, but in those moments when her mouth had been covered with his she had been at his mercy. She’d been weak, careless, clumsy. And as much as she hated herself for it, that night was one she couldn’t bring herself to regret, not except for the alcohol and shouting and clicking of her heels against the floor as she turned and left a simple threat hanging between them. Seeing his smirk, though, she realized he probably already knew exactly how far off course he’d tugged her. He was trying to do it again. Manipulative jerk.

“I - I don’t think - ” her voice was a bit higher pitched than normal and she was saved by their waitress, who came with her water. Alicia almost dropped to her knees to thank her, but then the woman glanced at her again and paused.

“Ma’am, are you feeling alright? You look… flushed.”

Damn.

Alicia gritted her teeth. “I’m quite fine, thank you.” The waitress’s gaze remained inquisitive but she didn’t ask any further questions, instead setting down the water and flashing Benedict a winning smile before moving away. Alicia briefly considered kicking her in the shin, but the opportunity was gone before she could take it. Instead she took a long sip of her water and took the time to collect herself, pretending it was anyone but Benedict Nolan who sat across from her.

Once she’d recovered she set the glass down, tilting her chin upward and meeting his gaze with feigned confidence, as if she hadn’t just made a complete idiot of herself. Her lips twitched into a smile to match his own and almost instinctively she leaned forward, drawn by that annoying invisible pull he seemed to always on her. She was torn between the desire to claw his eyes out for flustering her in a public place and the urge to press her lips soundly against his for everything else, but luckily she was too far away to do either. Instead she simply tapped her fingers against the tabletop. “As tempting as that offer is,” she hummed, “a girl only falls for that trick once, Mr. Nolan. I’d rather not leave empty handed this time.”

She raised her eyes to meet his, hoping to put the finishing touch on her act, but fumbled at the last moment. Panic flashed for a moment. That smirk. Those eyes. She swore silently. Fine. If he wanted that kind of a game, he would have one. Alicia drew herself up a bit taller, shoulders relaxing. “I was rather hoping we could discuss my payment, actually. I trust a man like you knows how much a job is worth, but - ” She paused, letting one foot briefly brush against his ankle and smiling wickedly “ - you can never be too careful. I want to be sure that what you’re offering is adequate.”

It was a bluff, and a rather large one at that, but her smirk only faltered for a moment before returning with full force. It didn’t matter - he’d see it, she knew he would - but she pretended nothing had happened and prayed he’d spare her for once. She’d dropped most of her other jobs to track down Benedict’s man, and his strike to her face had stopped her from accepting new ones for nearly a week. Whether she’d admit it or not, she was short on cash and needed his money. She was Alicia Klare, though, and she’d sooner die then and there than admit that she needed anyone, much less the man who’d brought her so much trouble and inspired far too many sleepless nights. She was suddenly glad for the small amount of distance between him - he had an annoying habit of drawing her in, and if she got too close she was certain he’d hear her pounding heart.

Benedict Nolan was a drug, and she'd be lying if she said she hadn't been addicted for a long time now.

oh, dear, never saw you coming
oh, my, look what you’ve done
you’re my favorite song
always on the tip of my tongue

[sbeeg]

I was born sick,
But I love it
Command me to be well
Amen. Amen. Amen. Amen.

You were winning. She faulted under your gaze, under your smooth words. So why is it that pink flush in her cheeks softened your heart? Why did her stuttering and uncertainty make your arms ache to hold her?

Oh no. You're in far too deep now.

Her words sputtered out demanding her money, her lips pursed into a thin smirk that failed for just a second too long. The warmth of her ankle brushing with your own under the table. It was all too much in that moment. Her uncomfortable speech, her desperation- you didn't want that. You wanted her to be playful and snarky. You wanted her to be...

Careful, Benedict. You'll drown.

You could play with her all night like this. Toying with her like a cat does a mouse until she finally gets her cash and you go back to your nice apartment alone. You could smirk and laugh about how you can come up with a comeback faster, you could take pride in knowing that you'd never need money as much as she needs yours in this moment. You could go to bed knowing you're safe from her influence because you came out unscathed tonight.

But that won't happen. Benedict Nolan, big shot in the suit. Cold hearted bastard that's swindled money from dozens of starving men felt an odd warmth in his chest.

You could feel the grin fall from your lips as you watched the girl across the table fidget. Truth be told you had played the cat and mouse game with women before. A roll in the sheets and they were gone. You thought this would be the same, and soon you realized it was something more. Only, you thought you could treat this girl like every other conquest. All smirks and cigarette smoke. You can't. She's too good for that.

Speaking of smoke, you'd give anything to burn your lungs with it in this moment.

Leaning back in your chair, you let every facade crash to the floor. No charming smiles or witty words. Just a young man in an expensive suit paid for with blood money. You're both too young to be so coarse.

Taking the wad of cash from inside your jacket, you let it fall onto the table. It makes the water in the glasses slosh out onto the linen, and other diners turn to see what the ruckus is about.

"You already worked for this money, I'm not going to make you labor anymore for it," your voice was low and raw. Like the times you whispered her name into her skin.

[Stare]

all his other girls, face on magazines
big blue eyes oh
i don't know what this means
no what does he want with me

“You already worked for this money, I’m not going to make you labor anymore for it.”

The cash hitting the tablecloth made her start and she stared at it for a moment, frozen, not quite comprehending. She couldn’t remember a time when Benedict - when anyone in her line of business, for that matter - had ever given her anything so easily. There were no gifts, no favors. She had to beg, lie, cheat, steal, and bribe. Kindness was nonexistent, but after a while she’d learned to live without it. There were other ways to get what she wanted, after all.

For a moment she wasn’t going to take it, convinced it was a trick, some kind of scheme to indebt her further. That was the last thing she needed. But then her eyes darted upward and she saw him, smirk gone, watching her in a way that made her heart skip a beat and then swell in her chest. She faltered. Then, slowly, her hand reached out to take the money. He didn’t stop her. Slender fingers spread the bills out, counting one at a time. She added up the total in her head, frowned, then counted again. Then a third time. By then her fingers were trembling slightly.

There was extra.

For what felt like a long time she simply stared at the bills, not sure how to react. The money he’d given was enough to keep the family floating for months, and there would still be some left. She could buy something for herself. A new dress, perhaps, since it seemed that her blue one would forever lay wrinkled and unworn in the corner of her bedroom. A gift for her parents. An old fashioned typewriter. The possibilities flashed through her head, one by one, and it made her feel like crying or laughing or both at once. She couldn’t, though. Not in front of so many people. Not in front of Benedict. And not when she was about to return one of the most generous gifts she’d ever been given.

Separating the extra from the rest of the money, Alicia steeled herself and looked up again, keeping her expression neutral as she passed them back along the table toward him. Having her hand so close to his made her hesitate to pull away, so she left it where it was, instead leaning over the table and locking her eyes with his. Her voice was soft only because she didn’t want him to hear the emotion beneath it that would betray her. “You pay the people who do your dirty work well. However, I don’t accept pity money, Mr. Nolan.” A pause, then she corrected herself even though her face felt like it was on fire as she did so. “Benedict.”

She could leave it at that. Take the money, stand up, and go. She had what she’d come for and he certainly had no reason to stay. And yet for some reason she desperately wanted him to. Their proximity made her ache for the night that she constantly told herself was a mistake, her back pressed up against the wall and his eyes sparkling in the darkness. She was tempted to twist her fingers into his and lead him from the restaurant to somewhere more private where they wouldn’t have to worry about formalities and appearances and the dozens of curious eyes that flickered toward the two of them.

She couldn’t, though, so instead she stood, leaned farther forward over the table. “Thanks for trying, though,” she murmured, her voice low so she wouldn’t be overhead, before brushing her lips against his cheek. It was soft and innocent and did nothing to suppress her longing to press her mouth into his until she couldn’t think properly, but she doubted the restaurant would appreciate such a display, anyway. (Some small, insecure part of her wondered if he would even appreciate it. She spent more time than she was willing to admit looking into his infamous reputation with women, and her findings were worse than she’d thought - they were all gorgeous and apparently “still in love” with the man they’d known for a night.) But she was Alicia Klare and she had never been the pure, innocent, and cautious type, so when she pulled back and settled herself back into the seat, tucking the money neatly into her purse, she shot him a crooked smile.

And she remained where she sat even though she had the money, even though she knew that he was dangerous and arrogant and infuriating, because she hadn’t only come for her payment. She’d come to see him, to talk to him, to allow him to light that fire within her that burned through her veins whenever she met his gaze. She liked him. Ripred help her, but she did. And it had been so long since she liked anyone that she wondered how she even knew how, and her uncertainty and confusion made her revert back to old ways. Mentally skittering back into familiar territory, she listed her head, a comfortable smirk playing over her lips. “I have to wonder, though, where such benevolence came from? Last I checked, your generosity came in a very…” she trailed off, mind flashing to warm kisses and low laughter, and her smirk transformed into a wicked grin, “different form. Not that I ever minded.”

flame thrower at the show
make my heart melt in the middle of the room
and i can't stay away
now i'm begging you to stay oh