flawed perception

[marlene helen hamilton]

A girl with her background clearly wasn’t new to formal events; dinners, cocktail parties, political events, fashion shows, she had witnessed them all. Of course, her whole family had already been invited to the royal wedding of Prince William of Wales and Katherine Middletone and if there was going to be a crowning, you could bet everything you own she was going to be there as well; given such premises, it is easy to understand how an event held by a firm could not possibly catch her unprepared. Unprepared she was not; nervous, for as much as the brunette hated admitting that to herself, she was. It was not the dinner itself that caused for quite an amount of tension to locate itself in her poor neck; it was who she was going to be with. Shaking her head as she proceeded to apply some light vanilla scented lotion to her upper body, she found herself nearly smiling, glad to be able to blame someone for her less than pleasant emotions, at least for once; usually, she was always chastising herself over her huge pile of drama, pain and hollowness that was her break up with Alexander. That was interesting, nearly refreshing about Hector; she could be blunt, sarcastic and nearly mean to him, and he would have simply shrugged it off with an uncaring expression on his manly face. It was as though nothing and no one could ever touch him; a carefully and skilfully crafted façade indeed, which could have fooled nearly everyone at first glance. The girl, though, knew better, thanks to her closeness to Lena; she had seen first hand how he cared about her, how wordlessly upset he had been when she had been back from Santorini and how he worried about her as well. She probably was the only person in the whole world who truly mattered to him, quite possibly because his sister was the only one whom he perceived as ‘family’. She knew even Lena’s relationship with the main branch of their relatives, back in Greece, was everything but idyllic; Hector didn’t even have that shred to keep him connected to them. Zane didn’t count; the poor thing was never really important in anyone’s eyes and she was seriously starting to wonder how deeply that affected him. Definitely, the Kozma family didn’t resemble at all the falsely perfect ones you see in commercials on the TV, happily having breakfast together, sitting around a rectangular table in a sunlight filled kitchen, exchanging smiles and shallow questions about their plans for the day.

”Nothing is ever perfect.” She whispered to herself, massaging the lotion to make it sink deep into her skin and not sit on the surface, which would have made for an unappealing oily mess; perfection had always been one of her main goals and even if the recent turn in her life had made her realize it hardly existed and that fighting so hard for it surely wasn’t worth the effort, part of her couldn’t help but desire it. How silly was that? Then again, the truest, most sincere and less tainted wishes were the ones that could never be fulfilled, hence the saying ‘reach for the stars’; it was ironic at best and cruel at worst, at least in her eyes. Her being fully aware of all of this would not have stopped her from trying to be perfect for one night regardless; everything, from her stunning dress, to her shoes and accessories, to her hair and jewellery, to her attitude, behaviour and words, had to be as flawless as humanly possible. Of course, the promise to Lena not to mess up her brother’s job played a part in such an aim, but there was more to it; she wanted for Hector to respect her, to admire her, to be stunned by his escort for the event. It was quite a noble mission, trying to rip off the mask of uncaring coldness he always wore and see a real emotion on it, as he realized that, after all, he hadn’t seen it all already. Not until he had seen her. The sudden boost that thought provided to her ego made her stand up straighter and nearly admire her reflection in her full length gilded mirror: wearing a corset never ceased to make her feel like she was a whole new woman, one without the fears, the limits and the pain. Their effect was amazing and could be somewhat comparable only to that of red lipstick; both clear means to enhance her sex appeal. Sex is power, after all; oddly enough, she had hardly ever considered it as such, in her experiences with her only partner. Then again, those would have fallen under the category ‘making love’ instead, which could be a likely explanation to her being rather pure and innocent still; that was, if she hadn’t actually ended up having lesbian sex with Lena when they were semi-passed out, at least. Shivering slightly as she suppressed the thought of what exactly Hector would have done to her, had he ever found out about it, the brunette made a mental note to make his sister swear secrecy about the whole matter, before finally turning around, toward her bed.

On the mattress, there was one of the most stunning dresses ever created, at least in her opinion; a gorgeous black gown designed by Oscar de La Renta. Her hand couldn’t help but run on the soft fabric of its bodice, which would have sustained her bust, revealing her curves enough to take a few men’s breath away, but hiding enough skin to keep them guessing; there was hardly any seduction in dressing like a whore, having everything displayed like items in a grocery store. Her thoughts were getting quite odd and inappropriate, which didn’t happen often to her, and almost at all in the past three months; the occurrence was thus even more surprising, exactly for these reasons. Wetting her lips, she called for one of the waitress to help her put the glorious black creation on, which proved to be even more complicated than she had remembered; quite remarkable, considering in the shop it had taken her a good half an hour to get in and out of that mercilessly gorgeous trap of a dress. The hassle, frustration and time were all worth it though, as she was plenty repaid just staring at herself in the mirror once again; if the guy had anything even closely resembling a heart, such a sight would have affected him. Everything else came together in what felt like a sheer minute to her; matching shoes, diamond jewellery, her up do and make up were like the icing on the cake Marlene had turned herself into, a treat the likes of which he had never seen before. Probably; the suspicion he would have kept his perennially bored expression on as he barely greeted her disturbed her and thus was quickly pushed to the back of her mind. Inhaling deeply as she ordered for her heavy coat to be brought downstairs along with her purse, Len reminded herself she was stunning and that, for at least one night, no pain, no doubt, no insecurity would have stained her. For one night, she would have been the Marlene Helen Hamilton she used to be, even a more mature, refined and sophisticated version of her, if she would have been able to. Filling her head with such positive mantras, she finally entered the hall of the mansion, standing straight in front of the door, waiting for her escort to show up, knowing he would have been punctual as always.

too gorgeous not to link again

[hector nicodemus kozma]

For all of his distinct, measurable flaws, Hector had always enjoyed, and been extremely good at, treating a lady right. Provided, he had to actually have some semblance of respect for her, a vague attraction, and an urge to do so, because without these things, there was absolutely no reason for him to act his age and behave correctly around her. Without these integral three factors, the audible hummingbird flutter of her heart as his warm breath glimmered off of her throat meant absolutely nothing. The rush of blood to meet his fingers held nothing of importance in his cynical, cold mind. He'd built himself a fortress of emotionless stability, of careful, concise lines and precise distinctions between what he would do, and what he would not; what he would tolerate and what he would not. It was in these exact guidelines that he existed, that he would thrive for the rest of eternity, because the last time he'd stepped from between the parameters he'd set for himself, he'd deeply regretted it; as with any time a rule was implemented, he was reminded of why it was he forced himself into these constricted spaces. As it were, his pleasure at the behavior of a true lady was masked behind layers and layers of bravado; he played the fool, chased the skirts of those who were physically attractive over anyone with substance. It was easier to deny the existence of anything other than misogyny if he remained stuck in his stubborn, rigid perspective. And so, denying to himself the courage he felt as he asked Marlene to accompany himself on this evening excursion into the city, he straightened his tie in the mirror and smoothed back the silvery strands of greying hair. He was too young for the defined countenance and worldly gray temple stripes, but he was given no choice; had he known his father, he might have surmised that perhaps it was a trait handed to him through the generations. Had he known his mother in the time he'd actually thought of her as such, he might have asked if perhaps it was a gift from her side of the family. Alas, he counted it off as stress and convinced himself that rather than looking tired and a bit world weary, he was handsome and refined; physical perfection was attained in himself. With an ego the size of his, it wasn't difficult to portray these mindless mantras, his lips moving behind a scruff of salt and pepper, blue eyes peering listlessly at whatever the subject of his attention was, no matter what it was. The same eyes that stared at art with a dull, characteristically bored expression stared at the figure of a beautiful naked woman. He knew women. He knew their ins and outs and ups and downs and he could write novels on the strange experiences he'd encountered, and he understood that an interest in yourself had to be the first step. Without that, there was nothing. He also understood that beauty could only go so far on little substance, and this was perhaps what propelled him to ignore the females grappling on his coattails and ask instead Marlene (by which she will continually be referred to, except when he directly addresses her, during which she will be referred to solely as Ms. Hamilton), who he could converse quite easily with and who also possessed a certain degree of charm and elegance. He supposed, extinguishing the cigarette in the crystal tumblr and pushing it away from himself, that it came with the name.

But he could never be a judge of that, for Hector was from a place where darkness was welcomed, where the warmth of a home was never felt, where work offered an excuse not to come home and his sister was his pride and joy, because she could get out. He never bothered explaining to her that their mother and herself were twins, that the pattern was repeating itself, that he knew everything and chose not to disclose the distrust and very carefully outlined knowledge of what he would not allow her to do. He was positive, on every level, that she proceeded to do it anyway, and in that he could at least find some consistency. What perplexed him was her habit of protecting him, no matter what he did or said, no matter the extent of her hatred for him, of which he was sure there was plenty. Standing from his chair, he made his way to the foyer of their grand home, where he was checked by Lena for any faults in his ensemble. She patted his head, his lapels, the perfectly creased burgundy silk pocket square, lint roller in hand. Having gained her approval, she kissed his forehead and he chuckled and asked her why she was behaving like he wasn't behaving, alerted the butler as to his whereabouts and when he should be back, and slid into the front seat of his car after closing the front door with a resolute click. However fervently he insisted on his sister having a driver, he'd always preferred the time to think on his own, the few moments when he was truly by himself, submersed in traffic, everyone going somewhere and no one paying explicit attention to him. It was heavenly, really, to experience a moment of silence, and it was with utter regret that he stepped from the shallow, speedy car back into the cool evening air as he arrived. He'd been to the Buganski home on a couple occasions, seen the interior, and could honestly say that he was only mildly impressed. However, this was a reaction specifically reserved for grandeur of any kind – he felt it his moral duty to remain non-surplussed at any extravagant showing of wealth. A poor boy was only a poor boy until you gave him money, after all, and he'd come into his own with the time that had elapsed between the end of his high school career and his first stock, a thousand dollars invested in a small company that eventually took off.

Knocking on the door in a clear, loud pattern of multiple short raps, he was greeted by a butler and ushered inside the main corridor, where he was met with something that could only be further described as a vision in black. All earlier intentions of greeting her with some snide remark were left behind, replaced with something like satisfaction and idle amusement: she had gone out of her way to appear lovely, as if she thought she were some grotesque being and it was necessary to labor over the process. Alas, he would have found her all right in a slip and a coat of mascara, but the urge to tell her this disappeared with the hard swallow, mouth dry, expression faltering. Unable to keep it from slipping across his lips, he let the smile meander from left to right, pushing the dimples to prominence on both sides of his features, and his eyes fell directly on her, “Don't expect to hear it again,” pause for effect, “But you look absolutely astonishing.”

click for his suit, yo.
it's like this, but the tie is black, and the pocket square is red... obviously xD

[/justify][/size]

[marlene helen hamilton]

Upon seeing him, standing carelessly in the corridor, Marlene had a sudden epiphany regarding the reason why she liked being around Hector: he was entirely different from Alexander. If her lost lover had been insecure at first, willing to humour people just to be liked, striving for acceptance, eager to shower her in attention and love only to grow into a compulsive liar who yearned for freedom from habits he himself had established, Hector was pretty much his opposite. It was like comparing moon and sun, water and fire, earth and air, since the older Kozma was a seemingly constantly bored man who had an ego the size of the Tour Eiffel, the Statue of Liberty, and the Coliseum put together, didn’t give a damn about gaining anyone’s approval, let alone love, confident enough to surely enjoy and prefer standing out than blending in a crowd and way too self centred and/or absorbed to give anyone the time of his day. Describing him this way he surely did sound unappealing, but she had come to find out some qualities, even if not necessarily entirely redeeming of sins, within him: his honesty, for instance, the courage to show himself to the world without particular filters and his sincerity. After having been deceived and lied to for months, with Alexander pretending to study to go off and see his friends or party and drink, Marlene happened to value the habit of telling the truth above virtually everything else. The truth, as Wilde stated, is rarely pure and never simple; every one happens to tell a small white lie here and there, that she wasn’t naïve enough not to expect, but to build a castle, a kingdom, an empire out of them, that she didn’t favour. Honesty always took a lot more courage and she appreciated that as well, since cowards who run away had never been her cup of tea. The fact Alexander happened to be one of those weaklings who think everything in their lives has to be simple or it’s not worth it enraged her to no end; whilst Hector, somehow, gave off the vibe he would have fought to the end, had he ever really deeply wanted something with all his soul. If

[/b] he did have a soul, that was; considering how often she had inwardly compared him to the devil, that was still questionable in her eyes. Demons do come in many forms, all of which are thoroughly attractive, which made Mr Kozma a perfect candidate for ir; from his suit to the tie to the perfectly folded red pocket square, to the shoes, he was what Marlene could only define as a man. Alex was a boy and Hector a man and the change made her feel as though she was advancing in society; well, for that to fully happen they would have to be together, but Len was content with just escorting him to an event.

Apparently, he happened to be satisfied with his choice, judging from the look on his face; the brunette could have sworn she had seen his Adam’s apple move, a sure sign he had been swallowing hard. Her fears, doubts and suspects had clearly been misplaced, because a genuine, even if smug looking, smile had wiped away his bored expression, which surely would have been considered quite an accomplishment by anyone who had ever known Hector; truth be told, she found herself vehemently wishing she had a camera to steal a picture of him right that moment and use it to playfully blackmail him with it later on. Who knew how he would have acted, once someone else had the power instead of him? Somehow, Len could not picture such a circumstance, since he gave off the aura of someone who had everything under control, constantly; she knew better, considering Lena’s unruly life style, but she had the distinct feeling her brother knew just about everything she did, but let her. After all, everyone must have had a weak spot, even Lucifer himself. ”I would never dream of it.” Ms Hamilton tried with all the fibres in her being to keep the look on her own face blank, but she knew from the start that was a battle that had as much hope to be won as Napoleon’s in Waterloo; thus she let her satisfaction show in what she hoped was a tasteful smirk as she approached him, after having bowed down slightly in a completely pretentious and self satisfied way. The thought of telling him how good he looked crossed her mind at that point, obviously playing it off by wording it in a minimizing way, but she kept herself from it, knowing even one word around him could show exactly someone’s thoughts; at times it was as though he could read people like books, yet another reason to suspect his humanity. She stopped, waiting for the butler to place the coat on her bare shoulders and gracefully took the arm that surely Hector would be offering her now, since he is, after all, a Knight in a shining armour; maybe one of the four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, but a knight nonetheless.

Waiting for the door to be opened, the moment she stepped outside Marlene couldn’t help but smile to herself; of course, what other colour would his car be, other than black? Having a black ride made him ‘Famine’ out of the four Horsemen; quite the pity, since she thought either War, with its fiery horse, or, even better, Conquest, on his white one, would have suited him better. Blaming the years she had been unwillingly dragged to Church by her father for her bits of religious knowledge, Marlene quickly made her way to his car, thankful for the fact he had parked it so close, since it was yet another freezing night in the Hamptons; it made her wonder if Spring was actually approaching, after all. Without waiting for him to open the door, since chivalry was dead and buried anyway, the girl swiftly slid into the comfortable leather seat, careful not to ruin the extremely poofy skirt of her gorgeous yet not too practical guess; not that she regretted choosing it, being thoroughly aware there was a price to pay for beauty indeed. Sitting in a perfectly straight position still, she tilted her head slightly toward him, wondering what they were going to talk about; she had heard through the grapevine that the event was held at the Russian Tea Room in New York, which meant the drive wouldn’t have lasted less than a couple of hours, without traffic. It would have been the first time the two of them spent that much time together alone and it made her nervous, quite honestly, since he was so unpredictable. Hating awkward silence, the brunette decided to start a conversation herself, hoping he wouldn’t shut her up with some snarky remark; actually, that could have started off their usual banter, which would have been hopefully enjoyable and hassle free as the few times they had talked before. Onto choosing a topic: the weather was too overused and impersonal, family was not an option, religion would have felt odd, after having inwardly compared him with both the Devil and one of the Knights of the Apocalypse. ”Since this event is held by your firm, is there anyone in particular you would like for me to greet? We have enough time for you to go ahead and tell me all the details about some possible clients that I may as well butter up for you; after all, I did promise Lena not to ruin everything, so you may as well make good use of my presence and family name.” That probably came off as cold, but it did give him the chance to talk without exposing himself too much.
[/blockquote]

[hector nicodemus kozma]

There were countless occasions when he'd been the only dateless man in the room, conversing awkwardly with gentleman twice his age and not half as proficient, their limbs falling off with a graceless decay that came with growing older, their shoes worth more than he owned combined. He'd look around the room, see the other shackled to their women with their delicate little hands and powdered cheeks, their perfume noxious gases in the air, making it difficult to breathe without inhaling a cloud of Chanel Number Five or Yves Saint Laurent Opium. Blue eyes slipping from couple to couple, he'd hunt for the ones who seemed like they were built to last and, without fail, every time eventually notice that he was the only bachelor in the entire building. This was not something that bothered him. He rather enjoyed the careless freedom that came with solidarity; he liked knowing that he didn't have to carry someone's purse or jacket, that he didn't have to venture to the open bar and order drinks that was exclusively acceptable for the female gender, wasn't forced into getting out of the warmth of his car and escorting a girl to her door only to be left without even a moment's affection. Granted, it wasn't often he was rejected in that way, but the few times it'd happened had been enough to harden him into something of an annoyed, reserved asshole. He accepted this as well. As many people thought but few people actually acted on, Hector was positive that with experience came the opportunity to react positively, negatively, or neutrally, and he too often stuck with a strange combination of the second and third options, his brow pushed together into a cynical, hard line, his mouth shaping to form the words that had fended off so many things. It wasn't until his coworker suggested, in an attempt to wrangle the conditionally free man, that he should perhaps invest in someone to make him a bit happier, a bit less obviously perturbed by humanity in general, that he even recognized his general unsociability. And so began to tendency he'd long developed to flit from suitable escort to suitable escort, always the emotionally icy gentleman, always ending the evening with a trip to the bedroom that lasted for a couple glorious hours and ended as he left her apartment. Never his place. He preferred the peculiar level of anonymity that only lasted until they realized that his location was listed practically everywhere, but most girls were never toyed with again. He wasn't rude about it, as he hardly ever was (providing, of course, that his honesty was credited as honesty and all of the things that spilled from his mouth were taken for what they were).

Regardless, as they settled into the car he found himself annoyed with the lack of attention that had been given to his well-mannered intentions. She clearly thought less of him then was deserved, opening the door for herself; he supposed, on another plane, that it may have been a good thing, for he was cold, even suited up, and extending his chivalry was useless if she would continue to reject it anyway. And so, he cracked the window part way as he reversed, making the transition from the driveway to the road easily before lighting a cigarette, and finally breaking the silence to offer her one, and answer her question, “I'm not sure whether or not they expected me to bring someone, as I frequently attend unaccompanied and I didn't bother forewarning them of your presence,” he shrugged, took a final drag off of the cigarette and tossed it out the window, not a flaw in his driving as he continued on his merry way. With good time, they would arrive within two and a half hours, with bad, hopefully less than three and a half. There was no time to keep at the speed limit, and no room for error in the execution of his turns and signaling, not that many problems presented themselves to begin with regarding his car and the road. As they were stuck together – although perhaps stuck is a word that provides for a situation they had both unwittingly entered, which would be incorrect and perhaps it would be more accurate to say 'they would be together' - for a good period of time, he made a conscious effort to keep things from growing tense and quiet, and made room for her conversational input as well as his own in nearly every statement that fell from his lips. It was easy, it seemed, perhaps too much so, and as they drove along things shifted simply from subject to subject, the occasional dry chuckle and quip interjected with effortless grace and eloquence, for they were both suited for such banter and, as they had experienced thus far, both of them were quite capable of entertaining the other.

Hours passed, transitions from streets to the highway that stretched between the Hamptons and the city bridged a certain mental gap, a space between themselves and everyone else. As was frequent with his trips between the city and the location of his family, his mind wandered to the goings on about him, to the family eating dinner in the townhouse by the road, to what it was his devious sister was doing at the moment, and he found himself idly wondering, as he listened to some story or other the Hamilton Missus was divulging, why it was she was here. Someone of such a pedigree should have ventured abroad; she doubtlessly had other, more important things to be doing in somewhere that was not America. However, just as he didn't intend to ask her, he was positive she wouldn't say, and so they carried on with their smooth, mundane chatter. More time passed, and as he glanced at the console he noticed they were making incredible time, perhaps a bit early; they pulled in front of the parking garage with fifteen minutes to spare, and by the time they were parked and he'd helped her from the car, it seemed as though they would be arriving at exactly the right moment. Glancing over her once more as they proceeded down the elevator and across the street, he stopped in front of the entrance, leading her away from the expensive dress parade and to the side of the entrance, where he lit his second cigarette of the evening and looked at her as he lit it, “I know, but unfortunately it's an addiction I don't have enough time to fix, and you looking as though I've murdered your puppy certainly isn't going to make me want to stop,” he took a drag, and despite himself, exhaled away from her, “If anything, it gives me the courage to persist.” and he winked, chuckled, extinguished the expensive hand-rolled Parisian cigarette and offered his arm. After all, entering apart would encourage the other males around him to stare at the figure in black, and he would prefer to keep her to himself, for at least the moment – a Hamilton, a brunette, a smart ass, and better yet, a woman. It was more than he could say for many. “As for your earlier inquiry, there's no one in particular you have to sell yourself to. This is a social event, not a Hamilton auction. As long as you're not behaving like a fourteen year old wretch, you'll be delivered without any injuries.” as hard as he was trying to remain pleasant, he was still Hector after all, and the jibe couldn't be left inside his mind. Securing her tiny hand in the crook of his elbow, he allowed his diplomatic, only partially irritated expression to take center stage, and as the doors to the elevator slid opened to reveal a sumptuous, dimly lit turkish delight, stepped forward, asserting enough force to make absolutely sure she was following along.

click for his suit, yo.

[/justify][/size]

[marlene helen hamilton]

Smoking was one of the mysteries of life, as far Marlene was concerned; she could never understand for the life of her why perfectly pleasant people would want to engage in an activity that made their clothes, hair and mouth smell like ashes, accelerated the yellowing and decay of their teeth and caused potentially lethal illnesses to them and to those around as well; surely, she understood the fascination that having a small hand rolled cigarette gave, the status of worldly experienced person it seemed to grant, the pleasant feeling of satisfied addiction courtesy of nicotine flowing through one’s being, still she couldn’t entirely grasp the beauty of it. Of course, Cary Grant would have probably lost part of his charm without the swift mannerism that came with smoking, but that wasn’t enough to stop her from considering it a nasty habit; besides, people either were charismatic or they were not, tobacco couldn’t make up for an unappealing personality or disgusting appearance nor manners. Hector possessed a certain degree of fascination, thus needing no help from a cigarette to increase it, but she supposed his hectic lifestyle had him stressed enough to need it; after all, he didn’t really get drunk and quite possibly did not use drugs either, therefore sex and smoking were his only sins, other than being himself, quite obviously. Considering her trail of thought, of course the brunette refused his offer, that was no surprise; what surprised her rather were his following words. Did Hector really go to such events, parties or balls on his own, without not only a date, since he surely didn’t seem the type to even consider those, but an escort of any type even? Her brows furrowed slightly as she glanced at the man next to her; he had always given her the impression of being a ladies man, the guy you would bring home, have passionate sex with and watch disappear right after he’s done with his orgasms. Truth be told, though, she had never seen him with a woman before; half wondering if he kept all of his mistresses in a closet or maybe a secret harem, changing them according to his mood, season and day of the week, Len realized that the reason why no female was ever with him may have been because she had always met him when his sister was around. Surely, none of the girls he graced with his physical work out weren’t worthy of being introduced to his family; he did seem to have ‘no strings attached’ written all over him.

The girl couldn’t help but wonder if he had been through some traumatic experiences as well and whether his behaviour and attitude were the results of hardening himself not to make the same mistakes again; in which case, Len would have loved to know if putting up walls and lines not to cross actually did work. During the time they spent in the car, though, she couldn’t bring herself to ask him such a personal question, thinking that would have been one of the cases his barriers would instantly activate and shut her out; at times, the thought that such defence mechanisms didn’t let joy and happiness in as well as pain did cross her mind, but she pushed it to the side, thinking that it could probably be the only way to survive in a semi-successful way in this world. Instead of awkwardly intimate debates, their talk was light, shallow if you will, but entertaining nonetheless; thankfully, the impression she had had from their previous conversations lasted even during the roughly two hours drive to the city. It was pleasant because she did not have to fake smiles and handle compliments like candy and pretend to be cheerful; actually, she had the definite feeling he liked her jaded, bitter yet witty side more than most people. Soon enough, they had reached their destination; looking around, Len admired NY’s beauty in the dark once more. Its bright lights masked the stars in the sky, that was its only flaw; her attention was soon taken away by the grandly decorated entrance they were headed to. Furrowing her brows, she noticed how quickly Hector nearly pulled her to the side, almost shying away from the attention and shielding her from other men at the same time; the girl then smiled inwardly to herself as she watched him light another cigarette, since clearly that was the whole reason why he had stopped out there in the first place, not to protect her from foreign gazes. It was amusing to think she somewhat still entertained semi- romantic fantasies about the male gender, despite everything, maybe even a sign she was starting to heal; not wanting to look too much into it not to feel disappointed if that wasn’t the case, her attention was thankfully grabbed by his words. ”I do not own any puppy, kitten, nor bird for you to kill and make another fluffy hat out of.” So he had noticed the clearly unhappy way she had kept staring at the cigarette; quite remarkable, really, since she could have betted he would have paid such close attention to nearly no one but himself.

”I must say, though, that I am flattered; your willingness to keep indulging in a modest pleasure that could result in your death by lung cancer, heart attack and a number of other pathologies just to spite me is worthy of both attention and notice.” Leaning her back against the perfectly polished wall, Len shivered slightly and found herself cursing the weather once again; truly, a trip to Bali with Ezzie sounded increasingly pleasurable by the moment. Mirroring his smirk as she took his arm, after he was finally done with his smoke, she spotted a few acquaintances the moment they stepped in; it was hard not to, considering how small –and somewhat asphyxiating- a world high society ended up being. ”My my, such a graceless way of wording it; we much prefer calling it making connections, getting into people’s good books and gaining favour with someone.”A perfectly polite smile was now tilting her lips upwards, showing her pearly white teeth barely, as she tilted her head to the side toward him in a deliciously and deceptively natural way. ”Besides, I do not sell myself to anyone; none of the men in this building could possibly afford me, not even you.” His usual expression had in the meantime resurfaced and taken place on his features; just then Len noticed it had not been used, or at least not often, while they had been alone in his car. ”You know, I’m surprised you’re such a successful businessman here; Americans instantly mistrust anyone who is not constantly smiling. You surely must possess quite a talent for them to want to have anything to do with you, considering how bored and borderline gloomy you look all the time.” As she uttered such words, the elevator doors opened to reveal a room that would have left anyone breathless; anyone except for the people who elegantly crowded it, given how used and nearly oblivious they all were to luxury. ”Shall we get a drink or would you rather greet someone first?” She would have let him lead them, at least for the time being.

[hector nicodemus kozma]

“When are you going to realize,” his tone bored, light; it was true that Hector was born into a perpetual calmness that eliminated his worry, his desire, fear, and left behind something that resembled loathing (but only occasionally, for he was prone to ignorance before his anger broke through), but most frequently took the form of a mouthy, antagonistic cynicism. “That absolutely everything I do is worthy of 'both attention and notice'.” perhaps she could see the quotation marks evident in his voice, because he could feel them, clogging his throat, rising with the toxic smoke that filtered from between full, cold-reddened lips. It wasn't uncommon for him to react to a comment as such with some vague egotistical remark. Most people expected less of him, which, upon realization on Hector's part, was also promptly fulfilled. He was a simple man on the inside, knew what he want and pursued it mercilessly, took care of his responsibilities and drew the line at helping others unnecessarily. For his personal betterment, he had grown to adore the process, and for absolutely anything else, loathing filled the place of the warm fuzzies within his stomach, circling around and bringing nausea in profoundly concentrated billows of disgust and aimless disdain. Blue eyes slipping closed against the chill that was beginning to frost his dampened eyelashes, he lifted a hand absently to press the smoke from the inside of his lids and languidly settled it back into the silken folds of his pocket, thumbs hooked over the edge to preserve some shred of dignity and manliness in the delicate movements that characterized pain. No one was rough in pain. A dying lioness they were not; mere humans never dipped below the surface to reach the rough, aching center of their hearts, for too frequently were their emotions and reactions covered in what little moral value they covered themselves with. Frankly, he preferred to lay himself on the line and see what came of it – for this reason, his presentations in the advertising world had grown renowned. It wasn't due to any particular otherworldly skill of his or anyone else in the firm – it was due to their point blank philosophy, which, in a world full of false hopes and dashed dreams, apparently meant something quite valuable. “What in the world makes you think I would waste money on you,” it was almost as though the conversations in the car hadn't happened, they were right back to where they started and the surface appearance of pleasant times was smoothed over with barbed remarks and insults streamlined for the ultimate digging anguish; he found himself raising an eyebrow in her direction, “Apart from that, I'm not sure I like the idea of trying to buy anyone, which is why I've gone ahead and said that this is most certainly not a Hamilton auction, as in no one will be trying to buy you here.” and, not leaving room for her to interject with an undoubtedly witty remark, he pulled open the door and gave a slight push to ensure she would go inside before he did, and his reputation as a gentleman of the lowest kind wouldn't be tarnished.

Finding it mildly amusing that she had been thinking about the same thing he'd been mulling over, he turned his gaze to her for an instant as if to validate her thought and shrugged, “It's my unfailing charm,” unnecessary to explain the entire process; he felt it would be wasted on the Hamilton Missus, who seemed at least vaguely convinced that spending her time grinning into a mirror would solve everything. In the real world, people relied on money to make ends meet and Hector was no different, despite the empire he'd built for himself from absolutely nothing. Some day, that money would run out, and he'd like to know that his beneficiaries, whoever they were, would be set for the expanse of their lives as well. As of now, he had no intentions of having children to break the even stride he'd been progressing towards, and further more his only living relative with any emotional attachment was his sister, who – even though she lived off of him now – would not be at the helm of a multi-million dollar company, no matter how much he adored her. It was not realistic. It was not happening as long as he had any say in it. In all reality, his work was probably going to be tossed down the drain along with whatever else he'd owned during the course of his presumably short life – or perhaps, in one final sleight of god's hilarious hand, he would live for endless years, whereupon he would finally croak at the ripe old age of one hundred and two, wrinkled and revolting and shriveled in every possible way. Either way, no one would want it. He had distinct memories of his grandfather's funeral, and watching as they buried him with his life's work, a novel on the effect of tourism on traditional greek culture. It was then that he decided, his mother slumped on his shoulder, drooling, drunk, and his sister sleeping on his other side in their grimy plastic lawn chairs in the back of some podunk neighborhood where the police were called more than the pizza man, itchy in his polyester blend, rented suit, that he would be getting out of there, and Lena would be too. And the days afterwards were spent toiling away in the ship yard, making sure that everything was done exactly correct so he wouldn't be at fault, or he wouldn't be punished, and all of it, every last bit... was for himself.

Her voice pulled him from his reverie, fingers twisted in the expensive suit fabric, the upgraded version of that pair of pants from so many years ago – oh, how they'd itched against his exhausted legs – pushed against the warm flesh. Before he could provide an answer for her thousandth question of the evening (and surely wouldn't be the last), the two of them were sucked into conversation by the receptionist's husband, who Hector suspected might have had a tingling homoerotic tendency that projected itself onto himself, which he neither enjoyed nor patronized, and thus fueled it all the more. A bit desperately, he pulled the girl awkwardly into his side, hand easily covering her entire shoulder, and simultaneously greeted and dismissed the pair. Logically, greetings are made at the first arrival of the guest at a function, but given Hector was hosting this particular event, even after they'd seen him once and perhaps twice, clients and firm partners alike continued to intrude upon his personal space, shower him with hugs and cheek kissings and what-have-you, all of which he took very well for someone who was not even remotely fond of affection. When he'd seen everyone at least twice, he turned to the girl beside him and whispered, just barely above audible, “Not one of those pompous fools was even remotely integral,” and he snagged two glasses, wondering if perhaps the fact that neither he nor Marlene got a word in edge wise in any of the conversations, with the exception of their names and brief, murmured how-do-you-dos, was noticed by the other party in any manner whatsoever. Handing one of the flutes to her, he checked his watch, noted the time, “Now, as much as you enjoyed that – how could you not? - it's about time for the dinner to start. Did you happen to see my place card anywhere? We'll move someone so you can sit; they always fill my table with eligible members of the female persuasion and only a couple or two, which simply won't work. It never does. I'm rather fond of conversation, versus the somber scraping of forks against porcelain as they simply refuse to eat.” as if in complete contrast to the words he was saying, his face lit up in a horrific kind of amusement, and he sipped his wine with too much ease, “Lead the away, Ms Hamilton.”

click for his suit, yo.

[/justify][/size]

[marlene helen hamilton]

High society was notoriously crowded by self centred, egotistical, narcissistic men who were most likely persuaded their very life was the pillar around which the whole universe –not just merely Earth- revolved around; no matter how many she had met before, though, the girl still wondered if any of those actually matched the man staring straight into her eyes, ego wise. Could any human being be that cocky and actually mean it, or was it just a mask to protect his delicate inner self from the world, had he maybe chosen to play the part of the asshat just because life was easier to face that way? More questions crowded her mind as she attempted to decipher him, having a feeling, deep down in her heart, that there was no need for psychological lucubrations about him; Hector probably was exactly the way he let the world see, or rather, stare and admire himself. Surely life may have hardened the crease between his eye brows and the sharp line his lips formed, like it did with most people, but chances were that was his true self; as such a thought crossed her mind, she couldn’t help but feel envy penetrating her whole body, pumping with her blood and thus invading her every organ. Truth was, Marlene would have given everything she had ever possessed and could own in the future to have an ounce of the confidence and self satisfaction he so fearlessly showed every single day; instead, she was left to rely on clothes and make up to feel even slightly presentable, taking hours in the process, spending minutes in front of mirrors to repeat herself she was a girl who could have had every thing she ever wanted. Useless wishful thinking; if she couldn’t get back the only person she ever loved, what could she possibly be good for? Her looks weren’t the heart of her insecurity; those could have been easily fixed with a trip to the hair dresser, a boutique or a jewellery. No, it ran much deeper than that, skin deep if you will; it was her entire being that was somehow unworthy of any lasting attention from people whom she could have loved. They kept leaving her behind, everyone but her family, if her scarce and strained relationship with her father even counted, considering also her believing he hadn’t disowned her yet simply to avoid a scandal; it definitely meant the mistake, the fault, the blame were within herself. A Hamilton couldn’t let such humble, low and despicable feelings show through, though, so she merely kept acting as usual, as though those insecurities did not taint the very root of her being; being around Hector made her act amp up, resulting in her acting almost as vaingloriously as he did, so much that, at times, it almost felt real again. His comment about her being a hypothetical waste of his money re-awakened such a feeling as the brunette parted her lips, about to reply that even if he invested all the money he could ever make on her, she would have had better taste than to let him, of all people, own her, when his not so gentle movements shut her up, earning a glare from her in return; surely, chivalry was dead when it came to Hector Kozma.

Luckily enough, the boring, fake and somewhat useless dinner party routine sucked both her and her escort in, allowing little to no thought other than an intense desire for the hollow skeletons of conversations they entertained to be over as soon as possible, as well as for old men not to actually kiss her cheek when they leaned forward, and, if such a contact really was strictly necessary, for them not to be sloppy kissers. Regardless of such small but predictable annoyances, everything was going as planned, until Marlene felt his hand on her bare shoulder; glancing slowly at it, as though she wasn’t entirely sure it was really Hector whom it belonged to, her brain managed to dully be amazed at the fact neither of them were catching fire, which for some reason was to her almost as surprising as watching a moth reaching a flame without burning itself to death. The moment of foolishness only lasted for a second, though, until she realized the reason behind their sudden closeness, catching the look in the eyes of the man who had just greeted them; if that wasn’t lust, she was an American blonde cheerleader whose IQ matched her pompoms’ one and whose splits were granted by how often she spread her legs in the sheets. At that point, it took nearly all her willpower not to burst out in a loud laughter and to keep a straight face on; studying Hector’s face, she took in the look of what she supposed was terror, behind his still fairly intact façade, mercilessly enjoying every second of it. ”I am nearly jealous, no man has ever looked at me with such a maddeningly scorching desire in his eyes.” Allowing herself only that small and relatively harmless comeback, she felt her smirk turn into a smile of disbelief at his next words. ”Of course, is there any other man but you who happens to be both pompous and integral, in your opinion?”

The rest of the forced greetings unfortunately weren’t as entertaining as the one with the receptionist and her husband had been, thus, when they finally came to an end, she gratefully took the flute he was handing her, sipping the wine in a perfectly graceful manner despite the distinct feeling the angles of her lips were going to crack due to the excessive amount of false smiles. ”You are seated in the middle of the room, of course, Mr Host. The table is disgracefully round, though, which means you won’t be granted your place at its head; such a pity, given that equality is an idealistic lie.” Taking his arm once more, she bowed slightly at him, the huge skirt combined with her last name making her feel as though they were characters of Gone with the wind; the only small wrong detail, though, was that Marlene felt like she channelled Scarlett a lot more than Melania, just like Hector happened to be surely more similar to the hedonistic Rhett than the constantly deep in thought Ashley. After reaching the table, having made sure they took their time to let the others admire what surely was the best looking couple of the night in the process, Len herself asked one of the waiters to move whoever Mister Edmund Greyner was to another seat, as she was entitled to sit on her escort’s right; a satisfied smile flashed for mere seconds on her features, liking the feeling of being more important than someone else, even if just because she was someone’s date. No, date was a strong word, which was in fact erased from her brain the moment she used it in her inner stream of consciousness; Hector surely didn’t do dates and she had had enough about men in the romantic department to last her a lifetime. Politely glancing at the other guests at their table, she couldn’t help but agree with him; they surely did not look like they would make for good conversations. Just at first glance, there were two couples, one of which seemed too in love to even notice other people, the other one too absorbed hating each other; arching a brow slightly at how ridiculously obvious the stages of a relationship were, her gaze then met a few old men’s ones, surely good only to talk about business and cigars, and only one woman’s who was clearly torn between cutting the sauté mushrooms in as small slices as possible, surely to fool her brain into believing she was eating larger quantities than she was, and eye-fucking Hector. Her compromise was so poor that she nearly laughed again, settling for sipping some more Merlot to keep her lips occupied; her attempt nearly failed as she felt someone’s glare on her, only to find out it was the very receptionist’s husband from before, looking at her as though the fillet mignon he was so hastily cutting had been her delicate neck. ”Excuse me.” Her head tilted to the side slightly and immediately a waiter appeared to grant her every wish. ”I will have what the gentlemen who’s looking at me did.” She had already eaten quite a few dishes, the flavours of refined seafood, vegetables and meat already mixing in her mouth; thankfully so, since she wholeheartedly detested half the polished foods she had been served, simply eating them out of courtesy, helped by the sophisticatedly small portions. Still, the girl couldn’t pass on the chance to provoke such rage over nothing under such hilarious circumstances; thus she tasted the fillet as soon as it was served to her, raising her glass slightly at the gay man, as though silently thanking him for having let her know the dish was so delicious. ”I would suggest never to introduce a girlfriend, if you ever gain one, to that guy, because I think he would end her life, not metaphorically speaking either; he must think that is who I am to you, or in the very least that I have had the unbearable honour of sharing a bed with you, considering the way he is looking at me.”

[hector nicodemus kozma]

The evening progressed exactly as he'd imagined it would, which, although it was predictable and slightly monotonous, was a nice touch. Over the years he'd grown accustomed to the terrible random natures of those who'd consumed even a little bit of alcohol; occasionally it stirred into the pot a highly amusing factor, but typically it was just troublesome and irritating. Nevertheless, it was part of the formula and for that he accounted; generally at least one person passed out, one person went home with someone who they had not even the slightest clue about before the event, and one person ended up snuffed in a corner with a hence-forth expression of smite and anger across their pallid countenances. Hector himself usually returned quite vibrant, pleased with his incredible persuasiveness, the effectiveness of showing a bit of money. Apart from the result in regards to the client, everything about the dinner had gone smoothly, from the greetings – which had been only a tad bit awkward – to the dismissals, the proud waves as one by one, people filtered out of the door, wide smiles on their porcelain veneers. Hector himself was quite pleased; he found that spending the evening with someone who knew what to do and when was remarkably calming. Even if he'd never admit it, he was feeling particularly indebted to the girl for her duties – he was sure that, even without bringing it up, she'd claim that he owed her some obtuse favor and despite himself, he would perform it. He couldn't deny that a favor was a favor and she deserved one, for such a performance. Of course, that didn't include the reaction about the hotel, which he forgot to mention over the course of the meal, the seamless transition from eating to elegant ballroom dancing, and even afterwards, the profoundly casual social period in which they flitted from small group to small group, never staying for long enough to produce an awkward silence, always cracking some joke or another from behind the bored expression on his solemn, classic features. He'd mastered the art of persuasion. By the time the event had ended, he had secured the investments from the patrons and was feeling quite pleased with himself.

So pleased, in fact, that he nearly forgot Marlene was even there, save for the quiet, consistent breathing coming from the passenger seat and the occasional movements, signifying life and nothing short of it. The car ride to the hotel wasn't much like the one to the dinner, during which time he was certain she would abandon the mission and ask him to turn around, if only because of a wayward comment. For the most part, he had her pegged, or so he thought, but there was always that elusive quality that allowed him to be sure he would never completely understand her mind; of course, that wasn't just her, there was a sort of flat intrigue in any other individual that led him to believe that humans, in their implicit state, were undoubtedly selfish. Tidbits and artifacts could never really be exposed past what they allowed through, and in keeping some things to themselves they were automatically deemed spoiled, arrogant. So it goes. The streets of the city were quieter at night, which didn't really surprise him; contrary to popular belief, the big apple did have a bed time and it was past it, currently, at around two in the morning. Downtown, the fun was just beginning, but around fifth avenue the lights were dimming and the door men's eyes were drooping. Sliding the sleek car easily into a spot in front of the hotel, where he was vaguely shocked to see an open accommodation, he continued around to the other side to help her out, and once they were standing on the sidewalk, declared as if she couldn't already see: “We won't make it back to the Hamptons before tomorrow morning, so I booked a suite with two king-sized beds,” he shrugged, not at all concerned with the idea of sleeping in the same room as her, because in all reality it would only be a couple of hours before he had to wake up and return to work, whereupon the driver that he'd arranged would take his car, and Marlene, back to the Hamptons. “Lena packed you a set of pajamas, they should be in the room already.”

Not waiting for any protest, he continued towards the door, suit undone, looking tired – which he was, so it wasn't that much of a stretch. The doorman, a gentleman of the highest degree, pulled open the heavy doors of the Plaza and in he proceeded. Checking out was fairly easy, and it was only after he'd gotten the room key that he waited for her, making sure she was there, or if she wasn't, that he at least recognized it. An elbow casually tilted against the rich marble of the concierge desk, ankles crossed, blank stare fixed on the door, he paused in his movements. It was simply exhausting toting someone to and fro, and he was so out of practice.

click for his suit, yo.

[/justify][/size]

[marlene helen hamilton]

Lena should have been proud of her, once she would have been told how greatly the event had gone; proper, smooth, as fun as one of them could possibly be. Surely her brother had captivated his client’s interest, thus assuring himself copious investments in his firm, as well as gaining favour and adding additional charm to his image and reputation; truly, Marlene had done quite a good job. It made her nearly chuckle, thinking about how the wives of important and powerful men could stand this kind of life for themselves, day after day, night after night; it wasn’t the nodding and smiling to perfect strangers and/or people one would have wished had been just strangers that sickened her, but rather having to do it constantly on someone else’s behalf. Truly, she was not a woman made to work behind the scenes and in secret to make her husband’s career successful; the motto ‘behind every great man there’s a great woman’ did not hold any appeal to her, since she strived for greatness, given her ambition, but for herself, rather than someone else. It was a pleasant feeling to have the spotlight shining on her, even if just for a while; truth was, she wished she could have control over it as well, to be able to turn the light off whenever needed. Regardless of her being a proud woman who only wished to work hard to achieve her own goals, a couple of events as Hector’s coadjutant wouldn’t have taken their toll on her; it was almost entertaining, playing such a role and seeing everyone rather shocked that his date even had a mouth that she could use to talk properly. It made her wonder about what kind of women he usually brought with him; still, the somewhat static hecticness of the party pushed these thoughts to the back of her mind, as she swayed across the room during the polite dancing. Hector surely knew how to dance like a gentleman, yet the fact he was touching her always felt off to the brunette, as though they were a couple of same charges which were bound to repel themselves by the law of Physics; still, it was over before her brain could over analyze the situation and, before she even fully realized it, they were back in his car.

The girl had always been bad, as far as remembering streets and recognizing places went; some scientists say that sense of direction is innate, and, if it is true, then surely she was born without one. Thus, as she relaxed her head against the black leather headrest, she didn’t notice at all that they were going in the opposite direction of the Hamptons; blissfully unaware of everything, she just stayed there, eyes closed, inwardly congratulating herself over the impeccable behaviour of that night. That was, until she felt the sleek car coming to a soft stop, which led her to opening her eyes and staring at the front of the hotel she knew well; right then the blood in her veins froze and it was not because the door had just been opened by her cautious escort, letting the cold air of the night embrace her entirely. Despite the glooming suspicion, she managed to get up and stand up straight next to him, waiting to hear some words that would explain his behaviour; when they hit her ears, though, they actually made her feel even worse. Suite

[/b], such a simple word made her whole body turn to stone immediately; for a few seconds, her mind went blank, before an overload of emotions started to invade it, including dread, anxiety, anger, confusion, surprise. They all mixed in herself, making her unable to neither speak nor move, at least for a couple of minutes, until her brain finally decided to take over: after all, he had specified the room he had booked contained two beds, which must have meant he was not going to use this as a chance to make a move on her, was he? Of course he didn’t; it was Hector Kozma after all, the man could have anyone he possibly wanted, so it was unlikely he would have been interested in someone like her, of all people. That still didn’t mean she was feeling at ease; the mere fact he had not even bothered to tell her angered her. Weighting her options while frowning, she tried to foresee what the outcome of her behaviour could have been; she could get mad and throw a tantrum, get the concierge to call a cab for her, simply walk off, kick him in the groin…All of which ended up with his usually bored expression staring at her with contempt, shrugging her off as a kid with no worldly experience whatsoever; she doubted even kneeling him would have upset him.

Thus inhaling deeply, Miss Hamilton followed after him inside the hotel hall, avoiding accurately to let any emotion show through her eyes, trying to give out as cool an aura as she could, silently implying she was not happy with his way of handling things; even during the five minutes it took for them to wait for the elevator, get inside, let it reach the right floor and finally get in front of the room, she still did not utter a word to him. Once inside, though, as used to luxury as she was, the girl couldn’t help but let a small satisfied smile surface on her lips; if there was one place worthy of being called a suite, this definitely happened to be the one. ”The Rose suite.” She said, turning around and glancing at the Louis XV style furniture, a common theme that was as evident in the sitting area as well as the night one; who knew, it probably was present even in the two bathrooms, considering how the Plaza was known to go all out for decorating. Suddenly remembering his words about Lena mercifully providing her with pyjamas, she quickly reached one of the many antique closets and pulled its doors open, thankfully finding a white one there; too oddly classic looking for the extravagant Lena, in her opinion, but that didn’t matter at the time. Taking it with her to one of the bathrooms, wishing to simply change into it and trying not to think about how the night would have gone, Marlene started reaching for her dress zipper, only to be reminded this Oscar de la Renta did not possess one; its place was taken instead by an extremely complicated night black lacing. Inwardly groaning, she turned halfway around, so that she would be able to see at least partially her back reflected in the generously sized mirror; her attempts at undoing it, though, despite having changed several position and methods, were all equally unsuccessful. After all, it had taken a maid and half an hour to get inside that dress, how could she possibly expect to make it out of it alive on her own? At that point, she only had two options: either sleeping in that trap of a dress or…”Hector?” Biting her lip as she emerged from the bathroom, the girl tried to sound as dignified as possible, as though she didn’t feel her pride shattering to pieces by asking him such a thing. ”This dress is as beautiful as complicated to remove. Would you please help me with the lacing on my back?” She had a heavy silver brush in her right hand, ready to use it in case he made some snide remark over the situation.
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