Perfect Stranger (SevenxDream)

[sevenpercentsolution]

The palm trees in Echo Park swayed rhythmically to the beat of the summer breeze, but the night air was so hot that the wind provided no relief for anyone looking to find comfort out of the ridiculous tropical temperatures; even at eight in the evening when the sun had long gone down, men and women alike moved through the streets in as few clothes as they could legally get away with wearing.

But within the gilded walls of the Giza Ducasse restaurant, the temperatures were carefully controlled and monitored, and the clients inside - they weren't diners in the Ducasse, for the amount they paid, they were clients because they had to be a very particular sort to be able to afford the place - were dressed respectably, the sort of high society gathering that paid more for their suits and skirts than most people paid for their cars.

As a rule, Nicholas Godwit usually kept out of these sorts of places; it wasn't that he couldn't afford them - far from it, in fact, he was so well-off and personally successful that finances were never a question for him, even in the trying times of recession - but it was more that he had never quite felt right about it, had always felt out of place, a bit like he was sitting in someone else's skin when he set foot in fanciful, gourmet five-star restaurants. He adjusted the tastefully striped silk tie around his neck; he looked the part, of course - at twenty-seven, Godwit was tall with a healthy tapering build, a man with fine dark features and the broad, graceful hands of a pianist and he was currently dressed in a flawlessly tailored black Armani suit, surrounded by a table of ten, most of whom were friends and acquaintances of his - with the exception of the women on either side of him.

The small, pleasant thing to his left was his best friend Estelle, a woman he had known for years and one of the few who would know precisely how uncomfortable he was in a restaurant like the Giza, and to his right, in stark contrast was his fiancee of three months, Bianca. It was currently her twenty-fifth birthday and it had been her wish to dine there, and Nicholas - always eager to please, particularly when it came to the object of his affections, of which there had been an unfortunate many - had essentially bought the reservations just to ensure she would have what she wanted for her birthday.

And despite the new string of sparkling diamonds that surrounded her toothpick-thin wrist, Bianca did not look like she was having a particularly happy birthday; in fact, as Nicholas rose for a toast and lifted the over-priced champagne, she looked positively sour - she was a beautiful woman in the way that ice sculptures were beautiful, and she was about as cold too. Obsessed with her weight, at a height of 5'9", Bianca was lucky to weigh 115 pounds while soaking wet; when Nicholas had first met her, she had been a brunette, but since then had bleached out her hair and eyebrows to a white-blonde, and with her blue eyes, colourless skin, and her current choice of a nearly sheer white dress, she appeared about as welcoming as a winter storm, an ice floe next to the tropical warmth her future husband's dark suit, honey-coloured eyes, and dazzling white smile.

"Well," Nicholas said, shuffling on the spot and clearing his throat nervously as the entire table turned their eyes to him; he tugged at his collar reflexively, which earned a laugh around the table, which he responded to with a sheepish smile, "To the lovely future Mrs. Godwit, happy birthday, my love - I hope to share many more of these days with you."

Eyes flicked to Bianca, who pulled one of her thin little cigarettes from her clutch purse, and lit it efficiently; she took a draw on it, and blew the smoke irritably upwards, her blue eyes narrowed at Nicholas. When she realized she was being watched by a suddenly awkward group of people, a smile appeared on her face, but it was a distinctly unpleasant expression because it drew up her face and never touched her eyes, and there wasn't even a hint of teeth in it. It was a smile that indicated the exact opposite of what it should have.

She flicked her head back, knocking some of her hair away from her neck and shoulder before she put the cigarette down onto an ash tray, picked up her glass of red wine, and stood as well,

"I also propose a toast," Bianca said, and her throaty voice was lined with a distinct poison, and she directed her gaze to the dark-haired woman to Nicholas' left, "First, to Estelle, whose constant, constant presence in our lives is just so, so appreciated. It's good to know that, should I ever need to consult someone for advice on useless interior decorations, I will merely have to browse around my fiancee's condominium on any particular day and find which room she's been occupying at the time."

There was a general holding of breath at the table, and Nicholas' 100-watt smile had faltered and had changed to a gritting of teeth, like a man bracing himself for an oncoming wave,

"Now Bianca," Nicholas began, but Bianca raised a pale hand, sticking her index finger in the air in a visual 'shush' before she actually placed a hand on his shoulder and steered him back into his seat; despite being much, much bigger than her, Nicholas was too stunned to disobey, and Bianca came up behind him, keeping one hand on his shoulder,

"And secondly, to Nicholas, my dear Nick," she said, "We've been together going on a year now, most of which has consisted of you being away on business trips, and as good as you look, and as good as your wallet looks, I find that you are ultimately so utterly suburban that I can't even imagine spending one more birthday in your uncultured presence. I'm afraid I'm going to have to replace you with a newer model, but really, thank you for the diamonds."

And then, with nothing left to say, she soundly dumped her glass of red wine onto the top of his head, picked up her cigarette, and walked away, leaving the table in silence - in fact, leaving the entire restaurant in silence, and Nicholas quietly absorbing wine into the collar of his white dress shirt. After a time, he shifted his jaw, carefully picked up a napkin and blotted some of the wine out of the corner of his eye, and said,

"So, I suppose no one is really in the mood for souffle at this point."

 

[Osheaga]

• • • • 
        Now, Nicholas wasn't necessarily the only one who felt uncomfortable in the pricey environment. Unlike her best friend, Estelle stood out like a sore thumb, and quite frankly, she could care less. She was a mismatched Christmas sock amongst a pile of regular white stockings. Nicholas' little get-together summoned friends and acquaintances with snowy white skin textures, blue eyes and traditional blond hair. Estelle, however, was a literal polar opposite. Her eyes were carved from intense green emeralds and her skin resembled a business man's coffee that had a mild amount of cream added. When the exotic looking figure had entered the restaurant merely an hour prior, she felt Bianca's icy cold gaze attempt to dominate her own. It was a clash of auras; Estelle remembered feeling the intangible energies do battle ferociously within a room of chattering people.
        
        Since then the woman had calmed herself. This was an important day for Nicholas' finacee, Bianca, and no matter the mutual distaste Estelle harbored towards the pencil-thin blond, Nicholas was in bright spirits, and she wished to keep the broad man's smile brimming brightly at its fullest, if at least for now.
        
        Estelle watched with stoic, nonchalant eyes as the men and women at the table chattered amongst themselves. There had been several accounts in which a woman sitting at the far end of the table had batted her large, clearly cosmetic, eyelashes at Estelle in bewilderment as if to say, "You don't belong here." Estelle wasn't easily perturbed by the somewhat childish antics of the woman and didn't necessarily pay her any mind. Despite being a bit of an oddity she sat straight and tall--for Nicholas' sake at least. Hell, she had even went so far as to purchase an overly extravagant black, strapless dress for her friend. Nicholas of all people knew that Estelle despised dresses, save for the one she had tailored from a sultry watermelon green latex-like material. It was customized for evenings out on the town - specifically clubs - or for her Blank Canvas parties she attended for artists. Everyone was required to stand out and look exotic or unique for those types of galas.
        
        "Excuse me, miss. May I ask how you got that... scar, is it?"
        
        The woman sitting at the end of the table, from Estelle could tell, was trying a little too hard to be polite. Though, Estelle couldn't help but flash a smug, toothy grin at the mention of her self proclaimed 'battle scar. "Is it a skin condition?"
        
        "I suffer from terminal melanoma." Though Estelle's voice was soft, balmy and virtually dripping with honey, the woman received absolutely no comfort from the nearly agonizing blow. "O-oh. I'm so sorry, I, uh... I didn't know." She placed a hand over her sternum, her mouth left agape from the sudden shock. Well, perhaps Estelle had twisted the truth a little. She was once suffering from terminal melanoma. After intense sessions of chemotherapy (which explained her pixie cut) they managed to reduce the effects of the cancerous cells. Her doctor explained that she would indefinitely have skin cancer for the remainder of her life, but it would not destroy her skin anymore then it did, creating the marred blotch on her bicep. She gingerly sipped at her wine, clearly pleased with the chaos she had created at one end of the table. Several others to go, then she'd arrive at the final boss--the queen bitch herself, Bianca: the Ice Queen.
        
        As her dear companion proposed a toast to his soon to be lawfully - and sinfully - wedded wife, Estelle stood erect as she was obliged to, close to her dear friend - who was basically a brother to her - offering all possible support available for him. When the irritating crow began to speak, Estelle inadvertently redirected her attention. What a horrible sound it was that came from her mouth. What Nicholas seen in her, Estelle truly had absolutely no clue, but he was happy, and that's all she could truly ask for. How he was happy? It was something she would never know. As a toast was proposed, the unentertained woman raised the class with well manicured claws, lobbing her close friend a warm, inviting smile, even when his fiancee proceeded to make a complete fool of herself a puff rings of smoke into the thin, sweet smelling air. Though the two were both beautiful woman, Estelle would win by a mile with personality. Bianca's mendacious mannerisms made her a little standoffish and blatantly drab.
        
        Her name was spoke. Estelle's green eyes turned to craggy, unpolished stone.
        
        She watched Bianca with wary eyes, awaiting something which Estelle hoped to label as a compliment, to spill forth from her rouge lips. But once again, Bianca recreated Estelle's stereotype. "You flatter me, dear, you really do," Estelle half-scoffed, taking another wanton sip of her wine. When Bianca breathed Nick's name, she clutched her glass so tight she felt the glass cry out in protest under the pressure. During the time Bianca had advanced, Estelle cringed. Bianca, don't do it. But oh, she did. The red wine spilled like a cataract of blood onto the woman's fiancee. While Bianca had been classy enough to storm off, Estelle was left at the table, plucking off silvery rings from her fingers and bangles from her wrists. The metal and silver hit the table top with a resounding thud in the silence; Estelle even went so far as to leave her hoops as well. "Excuse me. I'll be right back." She rubbed her wrists as she turned, taking quick, elegant strides along side Bianca.
        
        She slung an arm around the woman's scrawny shoulders, her hand almost maliciously clutching the brunt of her shoulder. "You and I need to speak, 'luv. Now."[/list:u][/list:u][/list:u][/list:u]

 

[sevenpercentsolution]

The silence at the table could have been cut with a knife as the guests tried to awkwardly find some way of redirecting the subject, or of going along with the idea that nothing had happened; Nicholas Godwit was not the sort of man to linger on any negatives, and apparently that included when his fiancee dumped alcohol on him and broke up with him in front of an entire restaurant. Some of them tried to talk about the weather, one of them tried for the ever realiable topic of sports, while one amongst their ranks refused to ignore what had just happened; this was Brian Meadows, a man who had known Nicholas for some time, and one of L.A's most prolific lawyers,

"Why does she get away with that?" Brian asked aloud, and his wife put her hand on his arm and tried to quiet him, "No Molly, dear, I will not be quiet. I am not the one being impolite, she was - I could have her charged for assault, Nicholas, and even with her family's influence I could make the charge stick, you just need to say the words."

Nicholas' expression didn't falter from its current one of frozen optimism,

"No, no," he said, lifting a hand, "Really. It's fine."

Brian sat back in his chair, observing Nicholas grimly,

"I will never for the life of me understand this," Brian said flatly, even as his wife continued to tug pleadingly at the sleeve of his jacket, "Molly, it needs to be said, I know you agree, as does the rest of this table, because really - how can a man as upstanding and intelligent as you, Wit, consistently have such poor taste in women?"

"Darling," Molly insisted, "It's just that Estelle's gone off and left her jewellery behind, I don't think that's good."

Both Nicholas and Brian turned their eyes to the small pile of silver that had been left where Estelle had once been, and then they were both on their feet.

-

Bianca had caught a stiff, sure stride as she headed out of the restaurant, her head held high and her heels held even higher by the six inch silver stiletto heels; she wouldn't bother looking back to see if he was coming after her because really, it would just ruin the look of the thing. As far as she was concerned, there was nothing more pointed than humiliating a man in front of his friends, and especially in a place as upscale as the Giza - she didn't even know how he had managed to get the reservations, she had never been able to before.

She heard footsteps coming up behind her; for a moment she thought it might be Nicholas and she readied herself to spit acid like a cobra would, but no - those were heels she was hearing, and then an arm came around her shoulders with an insistent tug just as she stepped outside of the restaurant. Her face twisted into a sneer,

"Take your infected arm off of me!" she snapped, whirling on Estelle and shoving her hard, "You of all people have no right!"

 

[Osheaga]

• • • • 
        
        Outside the air was much calmer and still; it was wispy and breathy. Estelle felt at ease here, natural almost. Even with the presence of this excessively irritating woman, there was a flawless serenity that swept over her and put her at peace. That was of course until the craggy crow decided she wanted to be a little too physical. Estelle was physically superior to Bianca. Though she was merely an inch taller, Estelle weighed nearly fifty pounds more then the pencil-thin blond, and visibly had more muscle definition.
        
        Despite the blond's meager efforts to repel Estelle, she was barely swayed.
        
        She recovered what little space that was made after the push, watching Bianca through very unfazed, unperturbed eyes. They glimmered like the sparkling rare stones they were, reflecting dull flecks of light that littered the New York evening. Estelle was interested that Bianca referred to her as infectious. She always had, even when Nicholas had just began dating her. At first she played if off as a silly joke among friends after the two girls were comfortable bringing the subject of Estelle's melanoma up, but, now, it was merely a playful joke turned hurtful.
        
        She of all people? Well, what did that mean? Clearly Estelle really wasn't extremely mortified with Bianca's comment. In fact, she could honestly care less. "I think you should apologize to Nick." Her voice was soft and reassuring; careless and abstracted. "He may seem fine now, but, he's going to go home and drink himself into a coma." Well, Estelle wasn't one to patronize. She of all people wanted to wring Bianca's scraggly neck but there was no time for violence. Well, not during this very instant.
        
        "I suggest you do it now, too." [/list:u][/list:u][/list:u][/list:u]

 

[sevenpercentsolution]

Bianca's pretty face had taken on a particularly ugly expression when she turned to look at Estelle; her mouth had fallen into a deep scowl that gave her lines that shouldn't be on any twenty-five year old, and the current cast of light showed the hollows in her face where there should have been healthy padding. She crossed her thin arms over her chest, standing akimbo in front of the other woman; with her heels, she practically towered over Estelle, but without them she was an inch shorter - but she had always chosen to wear the highest heels she could walk in because she didn't like Nicholas being too much taller than her. Even in the physical sense, she wouldn't stand for having him above her,

"Oh dear, did I wound his self-esteem?" Bianca asked nastily, "It's not exactly a difficult thing to do, he's more mouse than man these days."

Despite her best efforts, Bianca had never once been able to make Nicholas snap at her; even in her most demanding moments he had been patient and understanding - even when she had unleashed tirades of verbal abuse, even during the times she had shrieked like a harpy and had even once pitched a vase across the apartment, he had merely ducked and urged her to calm down, and told her to perhaps find someone to talk to about her anger problems. It had been novel at first, discovering a man who was willing to swallow down his pride to put up with her demands, but these days she just found it pathetic - even now, after what she had just done to him in the restaurant, he wasn't going to come out and tell her off. It was infuriating, and it made her want to go back and slap him across the face for it.

"He's like a kicked dog, did you ever notice?" she continued, stepping up too close to the other woman, looking down her nose at her, "Loyal to the bitter end, isn't he? Or is that what you've really come after me about, Estelle - is it that you're angry at me for taking what you so clearly want? You're as pathetic as he is."

She leaned back, and her smile was bitterly triumphant,

"But do you know what the best part of all of this is, Estelle? He just paid for a nice meal for my birthday, and I'm fucking one of the guests sitting back at that table. Every time he goes on one of those business trips, I fuck his friend - and I'm pretty sure he knows it, too, and he never said a damn thing."

 

[Osheaga]

• • • 
      If anyone was pathetic it surely wasn't Estelle. Words did not irk her to much of an extent; actions, however, bruised her ego along with her body. She stood her ground like a solid rock, clearly unfazed by Bianca's height or her attempt at intimidation. It was true, though. Estelle always had extremely strong feelings for Nick, though she masked them with precise persistence. She went through immense agony watching him experience fruitless relationships with women who either just wanted him for his money or simply were zero percent compatible with him.
      
      "If pathetic means that I'm very passionate about that man then yes, I'm extremely pathetic."
      
      Her words were soft and airy as usual. She held her tone arid, enough to show that she wasn't about to be pushed around by some woman who feigned height with the usage of heels. "I couldn't care less who you fuck and why. The fact that he spent money on you only for you to completely disdain him? I somewhat salute you for being so devilishly dubious, many women would aspire to be a cold-hearted cunt like you. However, it's you that are irking me. You're interfering with his happiness... which makes me happy." Estelle was lying; she was not so overly mendacious, specifically when it came to the well-being of Nick, "I love that man. Maybe not the way you pretended to but I've watched his back for years and worked my ass off to keep him at least in pleasant spirits. I'd rather not have you fuck up my hard work now."
      
      She would deal with his supposed friend later. Right now? She had some other business to attend to; specifically snapping Bianca in two then disdaining her in a nearby trash bin. [/list:u][/list:u][/list:u]

 

[sevenpercentsolution]

"Passion," Bianca scoffed, "Now there's a word you'll have some trouble getting him to understand, but really, good luck with that."

She took a final draw on her cigarette, dropped it to the ground and crushed out the smoldering end with the pointed tip of her stiletto heel; the smoke poured out of her mouth in a neurotic cloud, her eyes rolling upwards,

"You should be pleased about this," she added nastily, her mouth falling into something between a nasty scowl and smile, "After all, now you can have what you want, catch him on the rebound if you like spoiled goods - but just keep in mind, you'll end up being the man of the relationship, I'm certain that if I'd merely asked, he would have let me castrate him."

She took a few steps back now, cold eyes observing Estelle the way an entomologist would look at a freshly caught bug that they were about to pin down,

"What is it, Estelle?" she asked, cocking her head back, and the street light didn't do anything good for her, hitting all of those unfortunate hollows again, "Is it his good looks? The utterly rural 'charm'? Or is it the way he always foots the bill for you when the budget gets a little tight - just protecting your investment, is it? Face it, you don't have the courage to do anything about it, and he's about as observative as a brick."
She rolled one shoulder up in a half-shrug,

"But as much as I'd love to stand here and endlessly mock the both of you, I've got a date waiting for me."

She turned on her heel and flipped her blonde hair away from her face, continuing to stride away just as Nicholas and Brian emerged from the restaurant, both of them looking around wildly for a moment before they spotted Estelle.

 

[Osheaga]

• • • 
      Suddenly, the sun-kissed woman gazed down; she felt a tight moisture within her hand. Her fist was furled so tight that her knuckles were brighter then a winter blizzard. Had her fists been formed the whole time? Was she getting that upset over just Nick? Suddenly she advanced on particularly quick feet for a woman who was unaccustomed to the use of stilettos. Her heels were driven down so hard on the pavement that she felt the material cry out in protest under her weight.
      
      If you're going on that date, you're going with a black eye.
      
      Courage. Oh, Estelle had plenty of that, though it was most certainly a little more brazenness then anything. She reached outward and grabbed the blond's tawny mane, twirling the healthy handful of hair tight in a newly furled fist. "I didn't say I was finished talking." She pulled her hair tighter, the scent of several different hair products wafting up through her nostrils. Estelle was pulling so tight she felt she could damn near rip Bianca's hair loose from her scalp. It gave her a wave of sadistic, lucid pleasure that raked over her form.
      
      "Mock me all you want, I could careless. But see that man over there, that man you've manipulated and betrayed?" She pointed nonchalantly towards Nick who had just skittered outdoors along side his friend, her hand painfully yanking Bianca back further against the will of her back, "He's my friend. And as long as I'm around, sugar, no one's going to do ill will to him. The first bitch he dated in high school? She dumped him for the captain of the basketball team. I jumped her outside of the girl's washroom one day after luring her with a little note... I beat that girl so bad that she still can't remember what really happened. Another instance was when one of his little whores smashed the windows out of this nice little Bently he bought. Ha. I chased her down the alley in my Honda, nicked her heels a few times with the bumper, too. Ask her; she still has the scars."
      
      She pulled tighter.
      
      "What, now you have nothing to say? Heh. I like it this way. Open your pretty little mouth and I promise I'll make it so bloody you'll be tasting iron every time you suck another man's cock for the rest of your pathetic life, if you don't die from an a contracted sexual disease first, you paltry whore."[/list:u][/list:u][/list:u]

 

[sevenpercentsolution]

A sharp cry of protest escaped Bianca when Estelle's fingers dug into her hair and yanked her back, and she staggered on the ridiculously high stilettos, nearly losing her balance entirely, but managing to keep herself from hitting the ground. She couldn't straight up completely, however, because the hand in her hair had her head wrenched awkwardly back, and she stared down her nose at Estelle, blue eyes glowering through overdone lashes.

Another yank on her hair and she shrieked,

"You crazy bitch," Bianca snapped, and whirled her purse around, striking Estelle in the face with the bag as hard as she could manage it right then, stuttering backwards, clutching at her aching scalp when it was released, "There's a reason he never shows any interest in you; you're out of your fucking mind, you cow."

She took a step forward, intending to get a second strike in, but it was at that particular moment that both Nick and Brian appeared at their sides; Nick shoved himself in between them, creating a tall, Armani-wrapped human barrier while Brian put a firm but gentle hand on Estelle's shoulder, trying to lure her back to the restaurant.

Nick's good-natured face was strained with the attempt to be cheerful,

"There's really no need -" he began, but Bianca's hand shot up before the sentance could be completed and she slapped him hard across the face. Silent for a moment, Nick blinked slowly, his ears gradually turning pink - if he was angry, it didn't show on his face, not even after the second slap, though his shoulders had tensed visibly.

"Bianca, have you lost your mind?" Brian asked, alarmed.

"No, that stupid bitch has!" Bianca shrieked, stamping one foot down onto the ground while Nick stood unwaveringly in place; the red wine had dried on his collar like blood now.

 

[Osheaga]

• • • 
      Estelle crammed closed her bright green eyes in reply to Bianca's attack. She felt an odd sensation upon her nose that suddenly made her light headed. Hindered, she staggered backward for a woman, beckoning for support from her heels so she wouldn't tumble to the pavement. Nonetheless, the swat in the face with Bianca's purse was more then worth the shriek. She fanned her visage with a soft palm, trying to rid herself of the veil of confusion lingering over her head. Out of her mind? Bianca didn't know the half of it. Though Estelle appeared to be a selfless mute, she was a mendacious, cruel woman. Though revenge wasn't necessarily her specialties, helping karma get to its destination was. She was a firm believer of what goes around comes around.
      
      When Nick interfered, Estelle's eyes went blank with unfitted rage.
      
      Her pupils were small, narrowed dollops; her emerald pools swirled with a tempest lust for Bianca's shrieks. Of all things. He had to address his dear sweet Bianca first. Estelle did not like having anyone's back turned to her, anyone's. "Move," she warned, her voice disturbingly light toned and nonchalant. It was not a suggestion, but a warning. She wanted to break every last one of Bianca's fingers and rip her dress bare from her body and make her parade down the street stark naked. That would sate Estelle's anger.
      
      Suddenly, a resounding sound of hand-to-cheek rung in Estelle's head. She blinked aridly for a moment, the sound immediately registering within her head. She yielded towards Nick for a moment, then instinctively kicked off her heels and skillfully unclasped her necklace - which had priceless sentimental value - and stuffed it in the cup of her bra so Bianca wouldn't have anything to pull on. Even so, Estelle no longer had a lion's mane, so there wasn't much hair to pull on, let alone get a decent handful.
      
      She advanced on weightless feet, swiveling around Nick with blinding speed and the intent to murder. She balled a tight, unbreakable fist and aimed directly for the woman's jaw. She felt it connect; it was a lightening fast, powerful blow. Estelle was pleased to feel Bianca's flesh give way near her mandible; immediately after delivering the blow Estelle forced Bianca down onto the ground upon her chest, forcible pressing her cheek to the pavement with an powerful hand while the other clutched her upper arm so hard that she was sure it would have left a bruise-like hand-print.
      
      "My dear, I can assure you you've yet to see crazy."[/list:u][/list:u][/list:u]

 

[sevenpercentsolution]

Brian stared at the spot where Estelle had been mere seconds ago, and found only a pair of empty shoes; for a moment he entertained the thought that she had become so enraged that she had puffed into smoke, but no, there she was, swerving around Nick and leaping forward, landing with an impressive strike that left both of the men gaping for an instant, unable to believe what they had just seen. A strange, strangled noise escaped Nick's clenched teeth, his fingers clutching pointlessly at the air while the two women were on the ground, savaging eachother.

Though, it was really one-sided.

The punch had knocked Bianca for a loop and she hadn't even recovered from it before she was on the ground, somewhere between sobbing and screaming, trying to knock Estelle off of her, but at around one-hundred-and-ten pounds, there was little point to her efforts and no muscle mass to help her.

"Get off of me!" Bianca sobbed, and let out a cry of pain when Bianca wrenched on her arm; she was bleeding from the mouth, and a bruise had already begun to form on her otherwise colourless skin, "I will fucking sue you! My father will make you pay for this!"

Their brains came back to them; both Brian and Nick were moving again,

"No, no, no, no," Nick was uttering and he lunged forward, taking hold of Estelle from around the waist and using his more than significant strength to pull her up, pulling her away from Bianca; in the distance, there was the sound of police sirens and Nick's eyes flicked towards the direction it was coming from, "Let go, Estelle, let her go, please."

Brian bit at his fist; it was a fairly normal reaction for a lawyer who had found himself in this sort of situation; there was good reason for the reaction, too, because it was only moments later that the police-issued Ford pulled up to the curb, siren flashing blue and red while two officers emerged from the car, both of them running towards the scene.

"It's alright officers," Brian immediately replied, his voice intensely smooth as he sidled up to the cops, "We have them under control, it's just a bit of a tussle."

He glanced behind himself; Bianca was on the ground sobbing and holding her bleeding face, and Estelle was being held up by Nick, and he almost winced before hanging his head. The first officer - a tall slip of a man with the gold tag 'Crowman' on his uniform - eyed Brian the way an entomologist might eye a living insect that's not in his collection yet,

"Uh huh," he said slowly, "Brian Meadows, yeah? The attorney?"

"Yes, that would be me," Brian replied, instantly on guard.

"Right. You're good, I know that," Crowman said, and moved around Brian, "But stay out of the way, okay?"

His partner - shorter and darker in every way - was already kneeling beside Bianca, using his radio to call in for an ambulance.

 

[Osheaga]

• • • 
      Estelle's well manicured claws gripped and pried at Nick's wrists, attempting to somehow force him to release her. "Daddy can't help you, princess." Estelle's voice was light and calm, though her eyes reflected her sheer, lewd distaste towards Bianca. "There's plenty of money to go around, but not enough to fix your twisted superiority complex, you stupid bitch." The Caribbean woman clenched her teeth, her legs freely swaying before she planted them on the ground.
      
      "How did it feel to lick the pavement, princess?"
      
      Her eyes flickered for a moment. She finally stopped struggling, though her hands were still firmly planted on Nick's wrists. As the police officers arrived, Estelle still seemed clearly unperturbed. She had dealt with them before on several other accounts. Though Estelle was generally passive and avoided most violent situations when possible, she found it sometimes necessary to interfere and put the fear of god in some women... like Bianca, for instance. Estelle wasn't done yet since she clearly didn't get the picture.
      
      Well, maybe for now she did. Nick would drink his sorrows away tonight and sleep peacefully, which gave Estelle some peace of mind, while Estelle would probably spend the night in a local jail for her misdemeanors. "Brian get me my shoes," she demanded, lobbing the man a scalding leer. He was lucky Estelle hadn't turned her sights to him - the devastation would have most certainly been biblical. [/list:u][/list:u][/list:u]

 

[sevenpercentsolution]

Nick held firm when Estelle's nails dug into his wrists because, really, there had been much worse; once he was sure it was safe to do so, he let her feet gently touch the ground again, releasing her waist and taking a moment to even smooth out the lines he had left in her dress, his expression grim. Bianca was still on the ground then, the smaller officer leaning in and speaking to her in a low tone, to which she was responding with various nods or head shakes, tears streaking her normally cold face with mascara while her hands gripped instinctively at his jacket, seeking out some form of comfort.

Brian's brows shot up at Estelle's hissed out demand, and climbed higher still because of the glare; he raised a hand and saluted her as confirmation of his obedience, and scooped up the shoes, bringing them over to her,

"You know, Estelle," Brian said conversationally, "In my years of being in court, I've dealt with serial killers, terrorists, and rapists, and yet I've never recieved a look quite as filthy as the one you just gave me. I would like to bottle that some time for use as a secondary argument."

He handed her the pumps, and spoke quietly,

"We'll get you out soon." he said; no need to sugar coat it, Estelle would know she was going to jail for what she had just done, but frankly, Brian was unable to blame the woman for it, because even if he abhorred violence, Estelle had simply done what everyone at the table had wished - in their heads - that someone would do.

And Officer Crowman approached her; he was quite young, but his eyes looked like they were two decades older than the rest of him,

"We're going to need to talk about this down at the station," he said, and then looked from her, to the car, to Bianca, and back to Estelle before tiredly reaching for his cuffs, a motion he undoubtedly repeated several times a day; he moved around behind her then and began to go through the motions, "You have the right to remain silent, anything you say or do can be used against you in the court of law,"

 

[Osheaga]

• • • 
      "So, what exactly happened?" She remembered the officer asking.
      
      Estelle wasn't pleased to have to explain her cause. Either way, it would have been against her. She explained the situation - how Bianca had assaulted Nick, and as a man - well, a nonchalant one - he didn't retort. So, she said she felt the need to act in his place. Estelle had always been the voice for Nick, even in high school. But, after all of these years of no rewards of thanks, the voice was growing more and more tired to a point where it would just fade away.
      
      That's how Estelle felt. Used at some points. She was so distraught at that very moment she began to take Bianca's words into consideration. He was like a dog. A painstakingly, loyal dog. I'm just trying to hard to get him to notice me.
      
      The young woman's eyes were heavy. She swiped at them with a balled fist, inhaling sharply then sniffling. A musty scent of aged beer and body odor wafted about the cold, dank cell. The lights outside of it were dull; she could hear a few police officers outside shuffle about, conferring about their families and their children while she was perched on a severely frigid metal bench.
      
      She raised a hand and gingerly swiped at her bangs, letting forth a fatigued sigh, followed by a soft groan.
      
      She pressed her back towards the cement-brick that she was caged in on two sides, eventually being subdued by the apparent fatigue that washed over her. This wasn't a first time in custody - in fact, it was the second. She was accustomed to such ammeters, after all. It didn't take long for the woman to begin to slip in and out of consciousness while her body beckoned for rest. What time was it? One, maybe two AM? In here, it didn't matter.[/list:u][/list:u][/list:u]

 

[sevenpercentsolution]

The ambulance showed moments before the police car left and Bianca was led to it, examined, and then the decision was made to take her to the hospital for futher observation; the paramedics asked if anyone would be going with her, and she somehow managed to turn great big, watery blue eyes onto Nick and give him a begging look that nearly tore his heart out of his chest. Up until then, Brian had thought Nick was an utter fool for staying with her, but for an instant he found himself with a painful understanding of what the bigger man was currently thinking - after all, he was a good man and yet his fiancee had just humiliated him, fought with his best friend, and was now pleading for him to go with her to the hospital.

"Please, Nick? Come with me? Come back to me?" she asked, her voice almost child-like right then, all coldness evaporated by a shaky fear, and she even held out her hands to him, a quiet pleading for forgiveness and sympathy - and Nick stepped forward, as though drawn by her, but he stopped himself and lowered his head, eyes shifting to the ground. "Nicky?"

His lips became a thin line, and he took back the step he had given her and shook his head; she stared at him.

"Nicholas." she tried again, her voice just a little harder, and this time Nick turned and walked away, heading for his car and leaving Brian staring after him. Yes, Nicholas Godwit was a good man, Brian knew that - but some days he had to wonder what it was about him that continuously brought hail showers of insanity like Bianca into his life.

Nicholas drove his BMW down to the police station and arrived only minutes after Estelle had been taken into holding; despite his timely arrival, he found himself waiting for hours - most of which he spent pacing. By the time all of the paperwork had been done, it was nearing on two in the morning and somehow, while everyone else was asleep in the room, he was still pacing; the moment her bail was posted, Nick appeared outside the holding cell, peering around and discovering Estelle nodding off at the side of the room,

"Estelle," he said, gripping the bars; for the very early hours of the morning, he appeared far too perky; he even bounced a little on the balls of his feet, "Estelle, come on, let's go."

 

[Osheaga]

• • • 
      
      ooc; a little short on my part, sorry, especially for a 10 day wait ;( I tried to make it longer but not much to be added!​
      
      A familiar voice filled the woman's head.
      
      She took her time and lifted her head which seemed heavier then normal. Nick? Was it him? Her entangled eyelashes eventually separated revealing the dying ginger-ale shade of her fatigued eyes. Estelle sniffled, swiping at the side of her face with a clammy palm. "Huh?" She lazily let her long legs skitter off of the small bench, directing herself over to the broad caster of a massive shadow that seemed to consume the entire cell.
      
      "Nickie?"
      
      She prudently furled a fist and rubbed her eyes, soon leering up towards those of her good friend.
      
      Let's go? Did that mean he posted bail? Her heart pounded; potential freedom? She watched as the lazy guard ambled over towards the cage simultaneously fuddling with the keys. The metallic song was like a midnight lullaby to her. "You're free to go, Ms. Lights." The woman stumbled out of the jail much like a bird would from its cage. Her eyes suddenly filled with life. "Thanks, Nick." She flashed him a meager - but somehow toothy - grin and leered longingly towards the door.[/list:u][/list:u][/list:u]