Robert Thomas Falk

Missed Connections For A-Holes || Cyrus & Robert

call-me-cy:

If Robert hadn’t been listening, or hadn’t heard from an associate like Cyrus had about his little response, Cy would not have lost sleep over it. As he said, Robert’s opinion of him really didn’t make any difference, he’d still go to the same coffee shop, not change a thing in his wardrobe and continue about his day… But that wasn’t saying that Cy didn’t find the concept of meeting the mysterious poster interesting. And it was sort of like a variation of Robert’s posts on craigslist, egotistical, maybe, but there was still the pinch of hope that his coffee shop ‘admirer’ would show his face.

Cyrus wasn’t one to generally show much emotion, and besides the almost natural not bothered expression on his face that was hardly broken by a smile, he tended to keep away from feeling anything. It was easier that way. As of late people left Cy alone, which he did not mind at all, of course in middle and high schools there were always comments, always jokes and stares and Cy will be the first to put the person who recites that rhyme about sticks and stones in their place. Don’t you dare tell Cyrus that making a person feel like absolute shit- convincing them for a long time that they aren’t worth anything- telling them that “god” if there was one didn’t love them because of something they can’t change, hurts less than having a bone broken.

Since then Cy had built up pretty substantial walls. But after years of healing, shutting people out, and finally feeling like he was getting to a place in his life where he was ‘alright’ there were still holes. Yes, Robert’s comments caught him off guard, and Cyrus had his moment, but it was over now and life needed to go on.

The next morning brought with it a slow day of discussing stories with his boss and he definitely needed his coffee. When he walked into the shop, newspaper stuck under his arm, messenger bag slung over a shoulder he was greeted less cheerily by a boy with a coffee pot.

"Hey, Cy…" was the lame hello and Cyrus’ eyebrows furrowed into his forehead. This kid was usually so bright and sickly cheery in the mornings that Cy almost couldn’t stand it.

"…What’s the matter with you?" He asked before the other man nodded his head in Robert’s direction. Cy glanced over before tensing slightly.

"He’s in your seat, man…." Cyrus nodded.

"I can see that, yes." He waved a hand, and although there was a slightly annoyed expression on his face he breathed out, "At any rate, it’s not my seat… It’s a public space.” The boy, who looked at Cy and then the raven haired man, paused before shrugging.

I jus’ got confused when I saw him there, ya’know… I’m so used ta seein’ you sittin’ there. It was weird- I had to do one of them double take things-“ Cy nodded the coffee boy’s jabbering on not really helping the situation and it wasn’t until he was called into the kitchen that the conversation ended. Now it was a matter of where Cy should sit. He paused for another moment, Robert totally ruining his morning routine, and decided to sit at the small table directly in front of where Robert was sitting in his seat, at his table, reading that damn newspaper with that fucking smug look on his face.  He sat facing Robert, glancing at him before the waitress came from the back with a fresh cup of coffee, already made how Cyrus always drank it, bringing it to Robert at his table before blinking and mumbling a blushed ‘S-sorry' in embarrassment and seeking out Cy, finding him at the next table. Cy rubbed his face as the mug was sat on the table. Was it really that hard to actually look for him? Instead of just assuming where he was?

She hovered for a moment before opening her mouth, “Almost gave him your coffee…" A little laugh that quickly trailed off, “Sorry, Cy." Was the quick comment before her hand shot out for the napkin wrapped silverware.

Cyrus waved a hand, “Don’t be sorr-” He started before an eyebrow shot up, “…I haven’t opened them yet…”

She paused, “Oh…”

"I’m sure they’re fine." Cyrus insured her, already not bothered with the situation and the employees’ confusion anymore, focusing on determining if he’d seen Robert here before.

You /sure/?” The girl asked, a kind of disappointing tone in her voice. Her and the kitchen staff had made a pact to get the silverware so clean that Cy would one day not send her back to the kitchen to fetch another set. This time didn’t count since he didn’t even look at them. And she was a little upset with him that he hadn’t taken more of an interest. “…I’ll come back later-“ Was her response when she wrote down Cy’s order and skidded away.

He’s definitely seen Robert here and his fingers drummed on the table slightly when he came to that conclusion before opening his own newspaper bringing the coffee mug to his lips.

Robert smiled sweetly at the waitress as she apologized, having mistakenly brought him the other man’s coffee. All it took was a simple change in tables and the whole cafe was waddling around like lost ducks after a geomagnetic reversal of the earth’s magnetic poles. What to do? Where to go? Who ordered what? It was all so hilariously ridiculous. Then, to top it off, the short man didn’t even join him! Oh, no. He clearly hadn’t been expecting Robert to actually show up that day.

Icy blue eyes peered over the top of his paper, watching the radio host for a moment as he considered what to do. Should he send him an anonymous text just to spook the man? Or perhaps he should resort to more irritating tactics? Like a paper airplane with a phallus drawn on it or maybe shoot hair ties in his direction. The investigator shoveled another fork full of eggs, realizing that the only reason he always kept hair ties on hand was on the off chance his daughter needed them, and if he wasted them on the man, he’d be without any left. Knowing his luck, a Maddy’s hair emergency would happen to occur that very day, so disposing of them for his own amusement would only lead to severe frustration at a later hour. That wouldn’t do at all.

Tucking his newspaper under his arm, Robert stood from his seat, sauntering over to the other man, with his meal, napkin, and coffee in hand. “You know,” he started, swiping his tongue along the edges of his upper teeth, taking the empty seat across from Cyrus. “It isn’t very nice to ask a man out to breakfast over the radio and then sit down at another table all together.” He placed his plate down on the table in front of him, setting the newspaper off to the side as he draped the napkin over his lap. “Or weren’t you expecting me today?” Robert asked, the corners of his lips quirking up in amusement as set his coffee down, taking another bite of his breakfast.

Though, Robert won’t deny he wasn’t a tad bit disappointed. Considering the man was on the radio, he was expecting a grander spectacle than this. A tantrum or a hoity demand that he remove himself from his table. “I see you’re off to a good start today, hm?” He gestured towards the utensils. “Haven’t sent them back for a cleaner set.” Progress already. Or at least he hoped it was progress and the man wasn’t simply thrown off by the change in the seating arrangement.  

Source: robert-falk Via: call-me-cy

Won’t You Stay Awhile ✔ Alex and Robert

alex-hughes:

She could see movement towards her from the corner of her eye. She scoffed at the thought of her date finally returning back to her—hopefully with a drink for her in his hand. She turned her head in the direction of the moving silhouette and, to her surprise, it was not her date. Instead, he was much taller than her date, not that Alex paid much attention to height, anyway. A disappointed expression-at the fact that her date was still being inconsiderate—flickered across her face as she directed her eyes back towards the empty glass sitting upon the table. 

Alex sighed and rested her elbows on the table. She nodded in agreement to his statement. The word ‘either’ caught her attention and she cocked her head slightly. As selfish as it might have been, it was nice to hear that she wasn’t the only one feeling miserable at the event. She tapped her index finger impatiently on her cheek a few times before responding, “Not well at all—and I just got here.” She offered an unenthusiastic gestured at the seat next to her, welcoming the stranger to sit down if he so pleased. Whether he chose to join her or left her alone, she wouldn’t have minded, but company of some sort at a moment like this didn’t sound completely terrible.

Alex knew agreeing to this was a bad idea. If she disliked Ellis before agreeing, she disliked her aunt even more now. It was all Aunt Ellis’ fault for dragging her here with a date who clearly would have been better off without a date. However irritated with how events have played out thus far, she was reminded that here sat a young man who seemed to be in the same boat as she was. There would be no shame to letting him amuse her.

She gave one of the glasses he held longingly and sighed. “Good thinking, getting two of those. I could definitely use two of those right now.” She sat up a little higher so she had a better view of all the guests at the event. Her eyes searched for her date, but he seemed to be no where in sight, not even anywhere close to the drinks table. She let out a huff. “Is it me or has chivalry gone completely down the drain these days? When did ‘Let me get you something to drink’ actually mean ‘Let me disappear to whatever corner I find pleasing’?”

“Thank you.” He murmured, offering the woman a thankful smile as he took the offered seat, setting the glasses down on the table before him. The investigator cringed at the comment of dismal night, attempting to make a show of sympathy. “Ooh, that’s not a good sign.” Though, Robert’s decision to sit with the woman wasn’t so we could have someone to wallow with over the night’s shortcomings, rather he needed someone to keep him from looking like his ex’s father won tonight’s battle.

A brow quirked at the mention of chivalry, the outdated social code of days gone by, old fashioned customs clashing with those of the modern era. If Robert were to guess, the woman came from a wealthy conservative family— daughter raised heavily on traditional social values. And now that she’s grown, off on her own, the harsh reality had come crashing down on her: American culture had left behind those draconian customs. “I’ve got a similar issue, only I went to get some drinks and five seconds later she’s off with another man, waving goodbye.” He sighed, brows creasing as he shook his head, his expression despondent. No matter how careful he was with his dates, how close he kept them by, the Gwaynes always found a way to corner them alone.  “Modern culture has long killed chivalry, I’m afraid.”

Lithe fingers reached out to trace the curved the cool edges of the foot of his glass. “You can have a glass, if you’d like.” He gestured to the second glass, offering the woman a small smile. No matter if she thought his taking two glasses was good thinking or not, hoarding them was simply impolite, and Robert had to maintain appearances. “I doubt she’ll be coming back anytime soon.” If she’d come back at all, that is. “I’m Robert Falk.” Taking his own glass by its stem, the investigator swirled its contents, bringing the glass close to his nose. His eyes fluttered shut, concentrating on the drink’s woody floral aroma. He sighed, smile widening as he finally took a careful sip, the earthy liquid saturating his senses.

“Your date,” Robert inclined his head, shifting to lean on the table with free arm. A move to make it seem like he had an interest in the woman, whatever it was that she had to say. “Must have a few screws loose in his head if he’s dawdling about the room instead of dancing with a stunning woman such as you.” He was fairly sure the woman’s sour personality was what drove the man away from her; the entitlement she exuded very nearly had him wanting to find someone a bit more playful and down to earth. A thought occurred to him, nose wrinkling as it tumbled about in his head. “That or he’s gay. Either way you’re better off without him.”

Via: alex-hughes
Cher
Bang Bang
28 plays

Missed Connections For A-Holes || Cyrus & Robert

call-me-cy:

Cyrus had a thing for cleanliness. His father was a janitor his mother a neat freak, so when he was met with dirty silverware, he wasn’t going to use it. Like any other customer, he expected a clean fork. He liked this little coffee shop, he did- it was convenient and on the way to work- but was it so hard to actually put your utensils in soap and not just greasy water? Maybe he went to extreme, frustration rising when every flimsy fork he was given had a memory of someone’s meal still on it, but he finally got an acceptable fork in the end, and life went on.

Cy didn’t notice Robert in the shop, he basically just drank his coffee, and read his paper, taking a break from paying attention to the people surrounding him for once and focusing on the newsprint. And he would have never known about Robert’s little craigslist posts if one of the studio hands at the radio station didn’t stumble upon them. Of course, Cy’s co worker needed to investigate, and who better to experiment on than the only “elf” he knew.

 ”Ey- yo Cyyyyrus!” The man called, poking his head into the studio before Cyrus had gone on air. He was met with a sigh and then a raised eyebrow as Cy pulled off his headphones.

"…Yes, Geoffrey?"

"I wanna test something on you- I mean, uh- I need your help with somethin’ come here." Another sigh. Geoffrey and Cyrus weren’t the best of friends considering the fact that Geoffrey constantly did things to irritate Cy, which Cy was convinced he did on purpose.

"…What is it?" He was reluctant to go where ever it was Geoffrey wanted him to and would rather stay in the studio until Geoffrey left.

"Jus’ come on, will ya?" He smacked Cyrus’ back (Causing Cy’s shoulders to raise, in a ‘please don’t touch me’ sort of way) leading him into the other room, “It’ll only take a second-” Cyrus just wanted to go on air so he could go home and his fingers put pressed on the bridge of his nose, eyes closed for a moment as he left the recording room.

"…Please, Geoffrey is this another one of your-" He started before pausing looking at the mess of different pens and pencils that were scattered on the floor blocking his way to getting the hell out of there. "…Are those my pencils…?" His eye twitched slightly, "…Wha-"

"Oh, yeah, about that man, sorry- Don’t worry ‘bout it I’ll clean them u-" Cyrus held up a hand silencing the way bigger man.

No. No. I’ll do it-” He grumbled under his breath, in a moment he was on his knees. Almost without thinking his hands went to work… Blue and black pens together, red go in the drawer, pencils (according to size and eraser ware) go the cup on the desk. This was another thing Cy had a problem with. Organization, as anyone who is an asshole and tosses his things on the ground could see, Cy could not function if everything wasn’t in order. If you were to take a bag of different colored marbles  and spill them on the ground, Cyrus would not be capable of leaving them with out putting them in their appropriate color category. He paused when he heard the tiny chuckle escape Geoffrey’s lips.

"I knew it! This HAS to be you, man-" He laughed, bending down to shake Cy’s shoulder, Cyrus’ eyebrows furrowing into his forehead in response. Oh, he wanted more than anything to shove some of the pencils down Geoffrey’s throat but thought better of it and calmly, or…as calmly as he could manage, asked,

"What ‘has’ to be me?"

That’s when Geoffrey logged onto the closest computer and showed Cy the posts. 

—-

"Elf?" Cyrus began already furious, “He called me elf?” He could deal with the posts. It was craigslist for crying out loud.- But elf. That brought up so many bad memories that by the time they got through one of the posts it looked like fire was going to shoot out of Cyrus’ eyes. Geoffrey, who did not want to be in the line of fire, clapped his hands together, regretting his experiment and planning on making his leave.

"Wellp. Look at the time- I’m just gonna-" He was getting up to leave when he felt Cyrus’ hand on his shoulder sitting him back down. Cyrus didn’t touch people, and the hand on his shoulder alerted Geoffrey that this was serious. Before Cy opened his mouth Geoffrey shook his head, "Fuck, no- I don’t wanna get involved in all of this.-"

"Well, too damn bad Geoffrey.” Cy said, “I’m going to need an extra few minutes of air time on the show tonight,” He paused, “Ok?”

"…Alright but if anyone asks, it wasn’t me…"

Cy took a deep breath, he was over being angry. That was an emotion that took too much energy. He was too old to let flimsy craigslist posts get under his skin, but it’d be rude not to retaliate.

—-

The rest of the show went as scheduled, and when it came time for the closing Cy cleared his throat.

"…Before I sign off tonight, I’d like to make a shout out- Yes, it’s not very often I do this, I know, but this is a direct message for the lovely man-or woman- who has been posting regularly on craigslist in the "missing connections category" That should narrow it down quite a bit, since, no one uses craigslist anymore: Hello mysterious craigslist poster, this is "elf" speaking, (As a side note: as offensive and rude as that nickname is, I’ve been to middle and high school, and have been called it enough for it to have gotten old, please do try to be more creative). You remember me, of course, from the cafe. Your observations have been brought to my attention through an associate and I applaud you. Yes, very charming, your use of caps lock and exclamation points, I can really feel your frustration- Please continue to write your posts online as I really could care less about your opinion of me or my clothing (I hope you don’t expect me to feel self conscious about them, I promise you, you will see me tomorrow in my same "abysmal" clothing). With that said, if you would like to send me free clothes, be my guest, However, I’m sure there are more people in need of clothing than I am. Why not take your extra Armani suits to the homeless shelter or Goodwill? If you tire of computers and would like to speak to a human being, as I am not simply a creature as you referred to me as before, I’ll be at the cafe tomorrow morning. Goodnight Alexandria.” 

Robert hardly ever paid much attention to whatever the front desk security personnel typically chattered on about, it wasn’t really any of his business, and when did listen in, it was typically some hum drum discussion about some radio jockey they always listened to. Quite frankly, he didn’t like the two gentlemen and did his best to get out of their way as quickly as possible. Today, it was no different than any other day, and Robert found himself at their desk, waiting to be given the green light to leave the facility when he heard it, his little secret. "Hello mysterious craigslist poster, this is "elf" speaking…"

Frozen in place, a cold chill ran down his spine, Robert turned his cool gaze to the two guards.The voice kept droning on, confirming his fears that he’d been found out. "You okay, Mr. Falk?" The shorter of the two guards had asked, snapping the agent out of his thoughts. "You’ve got that look on you. Y’know the one you get when the vending machine just doesn’t want to deal with—" The man pointed towards his own brows, fingers looping around in a circle as if it somehow help Robert narrow down whatever the fuck he was trying to get at.

"I’m fine." By fine, he meant annoyed and by annoyed he meant he really wanted to shove someone’s face into a Blendtec blender right about now. But that would be rude, since the two haven’t really done anything to call for such actions.

"You sure?" 

"Yes." The two men exchanged looks and Robert was suddenly overcome with the strange desire to shove a broomstick or two down their short throats. Ah, ah, ah! Nice thoughts, Robert. Just think nice thoughts! A strained smile crept across Robert’s face, his eyes shifting between the town of them, which only seemed to worry the guards more than it did to placate them. "It’s just— I feel bad for the guy— on the radio." He gestured towards the disembodied voice, brows rising incrementally. Best to tell them a lie than to let their imaginations run off into places he’d dare not wish for them to consider. "What station is that, by the way?" 

Oh, he was going to have fun with this one.

—- ii —-

One thing he knew about this Cyrus fellow, was that he was a creature of habit. Day after day he saw this man sitting in the same seat at the same table. Ordering in the same manner he did as the days before, driving the poor waitress utterly mad with his requests. It was his table, that much was sure, no one would ever dream of taking the table from him— except for Robert of course. But Robert was a tad bit sadistic in that manner, that playful yet utterly annoying manner. And there was something about this man that piqued the investigator’s curiosity. And oh, how curious he was. After all, this short little man was called out to his listeners, expecting one of them to be the his anonymous craigslist poster. It was all a bit egotistical, to think he’d been a listener, an admirer of his show of sorts.

What if he hadn’t been listening at all,? What if he hadn’t decided to leave at that very moment and overhear the man’s little harangue? Why, what on Earth would he have done then? Perhaps that display last night was his own variation of Robert’s craigslist posts. His own way to vent about the utterly inane things people did around him. Did the so called journalist expect him not to show? Because there was no way he’d pass up such an invitation. Especially from a man who seemed so easy to set off, a man whose reactions could provide him a bit of amusement.

Robert had made sure to arrive there early, ordering his breakfast and a cup of coffee as he took Cyrus’ seat. Unfolding a newspaper— one he specifically acquired to further agitate the man— he reclined in his seat, one ankle resting atop of his thigh. "Thank you," Robert murmured, giving the waitress an appreciative smile as she set his order down on the table. And he waited for the little man, wondering just how he’d react to him robbing him of his seat. God, he hoped it was as comical as he imagined, like the way cats got when their territory was threatened by another feline. The little crooked dance they perform, hairs on end.

A smile crossed his face as he poured sugar and a dash of cream into his drink, stirring the warm contents as he mused. How far could he drag this out? Maybe he could pester the man, never letting him know his name, sending him anonymous text messages here and there. Or perhaps he could accidentally misplace the National Zoo’s collection of carnivorous birds in the man’s bedroom, let him wake up to several dozen hungry little eyes on him. A snicker escaped the raven haired man at the mental image that thought had conjured in his mind. Now, now Robert. That’s crossing the line, don’t you think? Don’t get ahead of yourself! He set the spoon down and returned to his paper, enjoying the warm bitter taste of his coffee. 

Source: robert-falk Via: call-me-cy

Missed Connections For A-Holes || Cyrus & Robert

Despite what others may think, Robert Thomas Falk wasn’t a complete asshole, he was only three fourths of one. Now how was that any different than being a complete one? Well, he had standards and lines he wouldn’t dream of crossing.  It may seem like just about everyone was fair game to his biting words and uncouthly actions, but Robert would never dream of preying upon a child, the disabled, or the hardworking. Children are the only group in that list that the investigator would never actually harm, but there were exceptional circumstances that could make the other two fair game and it typically involved obnoxiously petty pet peeves.

Take for instance the dwarf Robert had noticed at a coffee shop he stops by on more than one occasion, who always sent the poor waitress back to fetch the little man cleaner and cleaner utensils. Now, sending a utensil back once or twice was fine by Robert’s standards, but anything more than that and you’ve crossed the line. But it was such a small thing and he really didn’t want to cause a scene, so he took to venting the only way he knew how: posting a passive aggressive letter in the missed connections section on craigslist.

CL> Alexandria> All Personals> Missed Connections> Elf @ Cafe

At the coffee shop in Old Town, you were the annoying little elf creature with the terrible haircut, I was the man two tables away from you wearing the Armani suit. You kept sending the waitress back to get you a cleaner fork. Five times. You sent her back for a cleaner fork, FIVE TIMES. There is absolutely no way all of those forks were dirty. You're just a raging dick and I honestly wish I could have just grabbed the nearest used fork and forced fed you your breakfast with it.

Pouring all his anger and annoyance into the post felt good, and while it wouldn’t have felt as good as actually force feeding the man, he at least wasn’t facing a restraining order or charges for assaulting the man. But it became a bit of a habit, considering how he went there himself. After every morning, he’d make a post, nagging about the little annoyances the man committed. His little crimes against Robert’s sanity. And oh, how many crimes did he seem to commit. 

CL> Alexandria> All Personals> Missed Connections> Elf @Cafe Day 8

You kept straightening your cutlery today. For 10 minutes. I swear to God, you spent 10 minutes straightening them! I just wanted to walk right over and scatter your utensils EVERYWHERE.

P.S. Also, your shirt today was a complete faux pas; actually, your fashion sense in general is abysmal. Please hire a personal stylist, for everyone's sake before I figure out where you live and give you a new wardrobe myself. 

P.P.S. And get your hair cut and styled, you tiny hippie.

Here he could post and say whatever he wanted, and there was no way for the man to irritate him further. The chances of the short man ever finding them were slim to none, he doubted the man used craigslist, and if he did, he was absolutely sure he’d never skim through the personals section so there was no harm in doing it. It was safe for him to vent in this manner, and safe for the object of his frustration, and he’d continue doing it as long as it continued to bring him some sort of satisfaction. 

It’s A Matter of National Security || Ashton & Robert

With all the money the Pentagon had invested in remodeling its bases, one would think they’d invest in a style less modern and more classical. But the Pentagon has never been very wise with its money, so constructing buildings with designs that wouldn’t need a complete makeover or bulldozing to rebuild had probably never crossed their minds. The small brown brick building which currently housed an important suspect was situated on an army base, just outside of Alexandria, and it was in dire need of remodeling. The ceilings were stained with yellow splotches from leaks that occurred decades ago, the white linoleum floors were marked and had faded to an off yellow, the walls were carpeted with the sort of blue carpeting you’d see in public libraries, and the windows— when you happened to come upon one— were small with its UV coating peeling off at the corners. It was an ugly building, most likely constructed between the fifties and seventies, and never meant to become a permanent fixture.

It certainly wasn’t ever meant to safehouse enemies of the state or to be used for interrogation purposes, but that’s exactly what they were doing with it these days. Despite Robert knowing full well that the building didn’t reflect badly upon him specifically, he still felt slightly embarrassed on behalf of the agency over its aging and neglected state. But there was nothing he could do about it, it wasn’t his job nor did he have any say as to which structure they could use. For a week he’s had to put up with this place, and only God knew how much longer he needed to be there. The agent was fairly certain that if he didn’t resolve this case soon, he’d probably snap and burn the place down while everyone slept. He could pull it off, or at least that’s what Robert had told himself as he made his way to the lobby, his black leather oxfords clicking audibly against the floor.

The modern security equipment that had been installed in the lobby contrasted sharply with the aged interiors, an ugly reminder of how desperately this building needed remodeling. Approaching the end of the long maze, Robert signaled for one of the guards, who promptly handed him a tablet. Icy eyes searched for the name of the interpreter assigned to his case, pulling out the soft tipped pen off the side of the device and scribbled his signature at the bottom. The guard handed him a visitors pass in exchange for the tablet, and the investigator moved to the side, eyes scanning the individuals passing through their security measures.

Stony faced and dressed in a black Armani suit, Robert stepped forward when the man he needed completed all their security measurements, his hand held out as he introduced himself. “Mr. Ross? I’m agent Robert Falk, lead investigator on the case.” He handed the man his required pass. The quicker they could get this done the better. There was a music festival he had promised his daughter he’d take her to, so if getting off work early meant getting the Russian Minister to talk, then he’d do it by any means necessary. Including being nice for once and simply getting him an interpreter.  “Good to have you with us today. Tell me, how much have they told you about the case?”

Won’t You Stay Awhile ✔ Alex and Robert

alex-hughes:

Purple: the royal color. She gracefully wore a floor length purple gown with a sweetheart neckline lined with rhinestones. Her brown hair, carefully pulled to one side, cascaded over her shoulder. Although Alex was not born of royalty, she was treated like one in the past. When her father was still around, Alex was never neglected or denied of his love and family money. With her mother, the brunette was treated like a fragile bird and, for Carol Hughes never wanted to upset her stubborn daughter. Having had the world handed to her since the day she was born, the moment someone said that she could not have her inheritance one year early angered her beyond comprehension.

Ellis Hughes was infuriating, to say the least, and everything she did, Alex had to, needed to, oppose. Even though she craved to relive just a tad bit of her Chicago socialite life of dressing up and attending countless parties, when Ellis suggested for her to be a complete stranger’s date to a senator’s birthday party in D.C., Alex was conflicted. It was not an automatic agreement to attend such a social event, like it usually was, but a hesitation. If she agreed to the arrangement, it was a form of weakness and submission to her aunt. But if she disagreed, Alex would miss out on quite the event. After biting her lip and weighing her options, she said yes to going. Now here she was, waiting for a man she had hardly spoken to upon their brief introduction organized by Ellis.

The drive to the venue was filled with nothing but small talk, but Alex was well-trained in that department. He would not have been her choice of company on any other Wednesday night. Upon entering the building, her brown orbs explored every inch of the place. It was a Victorian style hotel, probably one with much history. The chandeliers hanging above were dimmed and the atmosphere was intimate. The chattering among the guests was not overbearing; it was at a good volume so that there was background noise of sorts, but Alex could still hear her date ask if she wanted a drink. Nodding without thinking twice, the brunette allowed for him to guide her to one of the small round tables in the ballroom and watched as he wandered off to the bar.

Her hands rested upon the table. Alex’s date was making no effort to return to her quickly as his trail towards the bar seemed to have deviated elsewhere the moment he saw familiar people. The woman itched with impatience and began to slowly look around the room, feeling, rightly so, alone. While other guests and their plus ones were socializing with each other, Alex’s date seemed to have forgotten about her. Her eyes found themselves studying an empty wine glass someone must have had left at the table before her. She looked almost dreamily at the glass, wishing it were her who had that entire drink. Perhaps that would have helped with easing her restlessness as her date miserably failed to get her a simple drink.

Ball gowns, glittering chandeliers, and intellectual conversation that came with political balls used to be something Robert thoroughly enjoyed and felt completely at ease with. Sadly, these events had become more of a chore for the young agent, all thanks to his fling and falling out with his daughter’s mother, Barbara. The woman’s entirely family was politically involved, so whenever he came to one of these events, it seemed like one of her relatives was always there to ruin his evening. He was positive they were doing it all on purpose. A punishment for not marrying their beloved psychopath and for taking Madison away from them, he was sure.

For the past few months, Robert had been seeing a woman. She was tall, blonde, witty, and smart as a whip. Robert could safely say he was smitten. It didn’t matter she was older than him, in fact, he preferred it that way. The older ones weren’t as emotionally volatile, no childish mind games or fits over not getting their way, and they always had something utterly entertaining to converse over. But in the short fifteen seconds it took Robert to get a waiter’s attention, his date had been whisked away by the father of the woman from his nightmares. Fantastic.

The raven haired man stood there, dressed in his tailored black Armani suit, a glass of wine in each hand, staring rather pathetically after his retreating date. The blonde gave him an apologetic wave as she was lead to the dance floor, her attention turning to her dance partner. Robert let out a long suffering sigh, the night had barely even started and it seemed like it may have already been ruined. Would she return to him, or would whatever it was that those scoundrels typically told his dates chase them off? Perhaps they were paying them to stay away from him.

Gwaynes and ditching dates be damned, Robert wasn’t going to let a bunch of half-baked psychopaths ruin his evening. He was going to find someone else to entertain himself with. Yes, that’s exactly what he’ll do. Turning to the tables behind him, Robert let his icy gaze scan the finely dressed men and women before him. All animatedly enjoying one another’s company, save for a lone woman, dressed in a plum gown, looking longingly at an empty glass of wine. The agent approached the table, his head bowing in an attempt to catch her attention. “By the way you’re staring down that empty glass, I take it your night has not been going well either?” Robert offered the brunette a sympathetic smile, raises his glasses of wine to show the woman he came bearing what she needed. “Do you mind if I have a seat?”

Via: alex-hughes
Via: logan-navarro
© MERRY