Her comments about her manager — or lack of one — made him smirk. That was as good as a challenge, from his perspective. Not in the literal sense; he couldn't care less about the politics of ballet behind the scenes. The edge that the words contained, however, intrigued and excited him. What man wouldn't have jumped at the prospect of taming something wild?
Ozy recognized her goodbye for what it was and was immediately dismayed. The touch of disappointment in her tone and the fact that she lingered just inside the edge of his personal space were little consolation if she was determined to leave him. This was all calculated, he imagined; this was not the first time she had teased someone for their money. He wasn't fooled into thinking she was actually sorry to say goodbye, or that she would miss his company once she left it. This was business; she was a performer.
Even knowing this, he nearly jumped at the chance to carry on with her when she made the offer. He wanted to accept. The last look that she'd given him seemed to deviate a little from her established persona; it seemed slightly more earnest than the polished hat trick. He wanted to believe that she was intrigued enough by him to offer him something she did not offer to every wealthy gentleman who found his way backstage. The fact that he wanted so badly to agree was all the more reason not to, however; he couldn't be sure that this wasn't part of her plans, and if he wanted to stand out from the crowd he needed to deviate from the behavior she expected of him.
"A worthy cause," he allowed. "And one I might be of more service to if I decline your offer. Perhaps I'll convince a handful of these gentlemen to follow me to the club for a game of cards."
They were more likely to be persuaded away from the ballerinas if he lured them to an opium den — which still brought with it the potential for sex — but that was too crass to say to someone like her, so the club could serve as a fitting euphemism in the meantime.
Ozy recognized her goodbye for what it was and was immediately dismayed. The touch of disappointment in her tone and the fact that she lingered just inside the edge of his personal space were little consolation if she was determined to leave him. This was all calculated, he imagined; this was not the first time she had teased someone for their money. He wasn't fooled into thinking she was actually sorry to say goodbye, or that she would miss his company once she left it. This was business; she was a performer.
Even knowing this, he nearly jumped at the chance to carry on with her when she made the offer. He wanted to accept. The last look that she'd given him seemed to deviate a little from her established persona; it seemed slightly more earnest than the polished hat trick. He wanted to believe that she was intrigued enough by him to offer him something she did not offer to every wealthy gentleman who found his way backstage. The fact that he wanted so badly to agree was all the more reason not to, however; he couldn't be sure that this wasn't part of her plans, and if he wanted to stand out from the crowd he needed to deviate from the behavior she expected of him.
"A worthy cause," he allowed. "And one I might be of more service to if I decline your offer. Perhaps I'll convince a handful of these gentlemen to follow me to the club for a game of cards."
They were more likely to be persuaded away from the ballerinas if he lured them to an opium den — which still brought with it the potential for sex — but that was too crass to say to someone like her, so the club could serve as a fitting euphemism in the meantime.
MJ is the light of my life <3