takecourage | (no subject)

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reggie

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Alex is...not wasted, not quite, but she's on her way there. She's been drinking methodically for an hour, now, sticking to tequila. After she'd walked out of their apartment, she'd crossed town to the other apartment where she'd taken a shower and gotten changed, and then she'd gone walking, greys following in her wake.

She ended up in a bar she likes, ordering one tequila after the other.
More than anything, right now, she just wants to fuck everything up beyond saving.

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Her arms curled around his neck, Alex leans in until her mouth is close to his ear.

"I ever tell you what I do for a living?" She says, flat beast sliding and shifting, testing the air, wanting the world to burn.

"I... don't think it's come up, no," Reggie replies, distracted but curious. He always kind of just assumed she was a bartender or something, though now that he thinks about it, he's not sure why. For all he knows, she's a neurosurgeon.

"I dance," she says. It feels good, dancing so close to him, letting it be the distraction that she needs in that moment. She leans in closer, her tits pushing against his chest. "Strip."

"Oh," is all Reggie says at first, fingers digging into her skin ever so slightly, keeping her close when she leans in almost involuntarily, because she says that and he's suddenly very distracted by the sight of her tattoos and the way they disappear beneath her dress.

"That's, uh... whatever pays the bills, right?"

"Damn straight," she says, the tightening of his hands on her setting something throbbing low in her core. She should take a step back from the edge, and she knows it. She does.

"You want to get out of here with me, Reggie? Bet you'd enjoy a private show..."

That does indeed sound like something pretty objectively enjoyable to Reggie, even as belated warning bells start going off in his head, letting him know that he should maybe be thinking a little harder about what's happening here than he currently is. Maybe if he makes a game out of seeing how far he can justify things to himself, that will somehow make it alright. From drinks with a friend, to dancing with a friend, to... a friend sharing her professional talents with him, where's the harm in any of that? Just as soon as he can't find any more justifications, then he can hit the brakes to figure out what he's doing, no harm done.

"Yeah... okay," he answers, nodding slowly. "That could be fun. Assuming you're any good, I mean."

More than anything, Alex is finding, she just wants to stop thinking for a while. She wants to feel something other than fucking empty. Reggie is good looking and she thinks he's at least a little into her. It's a start.

She pulls away, but only so that she can take his hand and start leading him out, snagging her jacket on the way past.

"Depends," she says. "How do you tip?"

"Oh, terribly," Reggie cheerfully replies, letting her lead him away from needing to make any further decisions for the time being. "I'm a real miser, total cheapskate."

"Pity," says Alex. She pulls away from him once they hit the night air, but only for along enough to tug on her jacket. Then she's reaching for his hand again. "Maybe I'll just give you the budget version?"

"And what does that entail?" Reggie laughs, loudly enough to distract from how easy it is to wrap his fingers around hers.

"Guess you'll have to wait and see," she says, squeezing his hand as they start to walk. It doesn't seem to be any time at all before they're at Dimera, waiting for an elevator.

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