The Tops’ restaurant is pretty quiet this early on, but Gabrielle had wanted to start the evening as early as possible, to get the most of her night off. Raul can’t complain – fewer people means fewer stares directed at their motley little group, looking weirder than usual tonight. He’s sure they’re a sight – a pair of half-cowboys and a couple of pretty smoothskins decked out in their eveningwear. The casino’s new owner, who introduces himself as Swank and is even polite enough to shake Raul’s rough hand, insists on sitting with them for a while and serving them everything they ask for at a discount price.
“Least I can do, baby doll,” he says, shooting Gabrielle a conspiratorial smile and a wink. “Least I can do.”
Raul knows there’s a reason she doesn’t talk about the night she spent alone in The Tops with the man who tried to kill her, and he’s pretty sure the veiled insinuations Swank is launching at her now has something to do with it.
Swank’s hand lands on Arcade’s shoulder as he leaves, and lingers for a second. When he catches Gabrielle’s eye a moment later, he knows he’s not the only one who noticed. Cass, of course, is oblivious.
“I’m gonna get a drink. Anyone want a refresh?” Gabrielle asks, getting to her feet.
He’s spent the meal waiting for his moment, and now, as Cass and Arcade give her their requests, he seizes it. He follows her to the bar and steps up beside her as she tries to collect the mishmash of bottles and glasses her caps have paid for. “Let me help you with that, boss.”
“Oh, hi. Great.” She presses a bottle and a shot glass into his hands, smiling gratefully. He pauses, though, as they head back to the table.
“Wait a second.”
She turns to him. “What’s up?”
He lowers his voice. “I just wanted to apologise. You know, for the suite. I didn’t mean to come across as the creepy old man, boss.”
Gabrielle turns a little red. “Oh, no! I didn’t – I got embarrassed.” She laughs awkwardly, starting towards their table again. “I’m not used to, you know, looking nice. I meant to say thank you, but, er...” She laughs again, still flushing. “Don’t worry about it, okay?”
“Whatever you say, boss,” he says, relieved. It hadn’t occurred to him until after he nearly had his tongue in her ear how his movements could be misconstrued, and by then she’d jerked away from him. Which he deserved, he supposed. Can’t get much creepier than a centuries-old ghoul slipping up behind you to croon sleazy compliments in your ear.
A few shots later, and the mood at the table is generally good. Arcade is looking a little ruddy-cheeked, unused as the man is to the hard stuff. Cass is laughing and smiling but he can see the fire in her eyes that means someone is getting taken to bed tonight. She is a wildcat, that one, and Raul wonders, for a moment, if her tastes have ever wandered to the...more exotic.
He shakes his head, and knocks back his next shot. No good can come of this, he tells himself. Hanging out with pretty young things getting drunk and looking for fun. Nothing good can come of this.
“Casino, then?” Gabrielle says, as Arcade tentatively finishes what’s left in his glass. They begin to stand, but Cass gets there first, holding out her hands with a look on her face like she’s just had the best idea in the world.
“I got a better idea than staying here,” she says, with a wicked smile. “Let’s go where there’s some real fun, not all these fucking stick-in-the-muds in their cheap suits and shitty ‘dos.”
“I like their ‘dos,” Arcade says, halfway between indignant and meek, but Cass ignores him.
“Guys. I’m talking Gomorrah.”
He should have known, then, at the stiffening of Gabrielle’s shoulders, that it wasn’t a good idea. But the shots were working their magic on his old brain, and he knew as well as any of them that when Cass was set on an idea, dissuading her was a skill all of its own.
“Gomorrah,” he says, raising his empty glass.
Cass lets out a whoop, and links her arm in Gabrielle’s, dragging her towards the door. “Come on, courier. Time to take a walk on the wild side."
No School Like Old School 2/7
“Least I can do, baby doll,” he says, shooting Gabrielle a conspiratorial smile and a wink. “Least I can do.”
Raul knows there’s a reason she doesn’t talk about the night she spent alone in The Tops with the man who tried to kill her, and he’s pretty sure the veiled insinuations Swank is launching at her now has something to do with it.
Swank’s hand lands on Arcade’s shoulder as he leaves, and lingers for a second. When he catches Gabrielle’s eye a moment later, he knows he’s not the only one who noticed. Cass, of course, is oblivious.
“I’m gonna get a drink. Anyone want a refresh?” Gabrielle asks, getting to her feet.
He’s spent the meal waiting for his moment, and now, as Cass and Arcade give her their requests, he seizes it. He follows her to the bar and steps up beside her as she tries to collect the mishmash of bottles and glasses her caps have paid for. “Let me help you with that, boss.”
“Oh, hi. Great.” She presses a bottle and a shot glass into his hands, smiling gratefully. He pauses, though, as they head back to the table.
“Wait a second.”
She turns to him. “What’s up?”
He lowers his voice. “I just wanted to apologise. You know, for the suite. I didn’t mean to come across as the creepy old man, boss.”
Gabrielle turns a little red. “Oh, no! I didn’t – I got embarrassed.” She laughs awkwardly, starting towards their table again. “I’m not used to, you know, looking nice. I meant to say thank you, but, er...” She laughs again, still flushing. “Don’t worry about it, okay?”
“Whatever you say, boss,” he says, relieved. It hadn’t occurred to him until after he nearly had his tongue in her ear how his movements could be misconstrued, and by then she’d jerked away from him. Which he deserved, he supposed. Can’t get much creepier than a centuries-old ghoul slipping up behind you to croon sleazy compliments in your ear.
A few shots later, and the mood at the table is generally good. Arcade is looking a little ruddy-cheeked, unused as the man is to the hard stuff. Cass is laughing and smiling but he can see the fire in her eyes that means someone is getting taken to bed tonight. She is a wildcat, that one, and Raul wonders, for a moment, if her tastes have ever wandered to the...more exotic.
He shakes his head, and knocks back his next shot. No good can come of this, he tells himself. Hanging out with pretty young things getting drunk and looking for fun. Nothing good can come of this.
“Casino, then?” Gabrielle says, as Arcade tentatively finishes what’s left in his glass. They begin to stand, but Cass gets there first, holding out her hands with a look on her face like she’s just had the best idea in the world.
“I got a better idea than staying here,” she says, with a wicked smile. “Let’s go where there’s some real fun, not all these fucking stick-in-the-muds in their cheap suits and shitty ‘dos.”
“I like their ‘dos,” Arcade says, halfway between indignant and meek, but Cass ignores him.
“Guys. I’m talking Gomorrah.”
He should have known, then, at the stiffening of Gabrielle’s shoulders, that it wasn’t a good idea. But the shots were working their magic on his old brain, and he knew as well as any of them that when Cass was set on an idea, dissuading her was a skill all of its own.
“Gomorrah,” he says, raising his empty glass.
Cass lets out a whoop, and links her arm in Gabrielle’s, dragging her towards the door. “Come on, courier. Time to take a walk on the wild side."