16 September, 1892 — London Ballet House

Oz spent a significant portion of the second act pretending to read his program. His sister said the production was splendid, and he assumed it was, but he had no desire to see for himself. He wouldn't have even come tonight, if he'd had his druthers, but after becoming one of the patrons of the London Ballet he felt it would be remarked upon if he failed to attend on opening night of their latest performance. Usually he was careless about rumors; his family had a reputation for being eccentric, anyway. Where Sophia Voss was concerned, however, he wanted any potential stories to die quickly and painlessly. Some damage had been done already, given that the company had seen him touring the theater with her that summer and then a number of them had seen the state he'd been in when he left. There was no need to give them any more reason to talk.

His patronage extended through the end of the season, so Oz intended to attend the openings of any subsequent performances that year and then give a few tickets away to friends throughout the runs, and let his attachment to the ballet die out slowly enough that no one would be surprised when he failed to renew the arrangement for the subsequent season. He made it through the performance and didn't admit to his siblings how impressed he was with a few of the special effects the show had used. He hoped no one had noticed the few times he'd caught himself watching the lead ballerina too closely during her solos. He finished his drink and rose to head home, but the manager of the damned ballet house headed him off. An ambush. He seemed to have scented out Ozymandias' plan to let his patronage fizzle out with a whimper, and did not intend to let go without at least a bit of a fight. He was quite flattering and obsequent, and Oz soon found himself stuck in a conversation with him that seemed to be going in circles. His siblings, bored by both business conversation regarding ballet and any unearned flattery of their older brother, departed for the lobby. This seemed to be what Seamus Lennon was waiting for, because once the box was clear he pounced with a question: of course Mr. Dempsey would be joining the dancers backstage to congratulate them on their performance, wouldn't he?

Ozymandias wheedled, but Lennon batted away any excuse he tried to give like one would flick away flies. Eventually Oz checked his watch and agreed. When he'd been backstage before, he'd beaten Mrs. Voss there; maybe if he agreed now, he could make an appearance and then slip back out to the lobby to join his family before she even arrived.

The foyer backstage was crowded by the time Lennon showed him in, with dancers both in full costume and half-undressed, wings and whiskers and other accoutrements removed to leave them in skin-tight dancewear and skirts. He wondered whether he would have to talk to them or whether he could get away without it. A brunette with too-large eyes approached him with a wide, plastered smile. She looked nervous. He wondered if the manager had put her up to this or whether it was her own ambition that had driven her towards him, thinking that if she could catch the eye of someone wealthy she might have a better chance at stardom. Oz sighed. She took this as a disappointing sign; Oz could see the way her confidence wavered behind her eyes. 

He cast a glance over her costume and tried to come up with something encouraging to say. It wasn't her fault that he would rather be literally anywhere else. Her costume suggested she had been among the chorus of flowers near the end of the performance, so he seized on that. "The choreography for the Waltz of Flowers was exquisite," he said, not having paid enough attention to know whether or not this was true. He only knew the name of the number because he'd spent so much time pretending to read the program. The remark worked as intended, though; her spirits bolstered slightly and she prattled out some anecdote about the choreographer. Oz might have listened, except that was when he saw her — not even across the foyer, but only a paltry dozen feet away already. Sophia Voss.

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@"Sophia Voss"

  

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MJ is the light of my life <3

Opening night was always exhilarating, even with a show she’d done a thousand times. But this one was an entirely new production from Russia, and there was nothing more intoxicating than the adrenaline of a show’s first flight. Thunderous applause during her Sugar Plum Fairy solo swelled her with pride, wheedling away her doubts over London. It reminded her of the shows in Moscow, with the flocks of balletomanes who sought out every special performance. It reminded her of something like home.

This production included a risky pas de deux, performed with her trusted head male dancer and protege Damien. He moved her like a doll into various angles and rotations on one leg, and pitched her into the air to catch her on his shoulders. Twice she leapt into his arms; charms built into her corset turned her lithe frame to a small buoy in air with momentum and magic that allowed her to twist into a midair spin. Each time she was caught in her partner’s arms in a poised position with her head near the ground, the crowd gasped and cheered.

In her final lift to his shoulders, just above the blinding line of the spotlight, she saw him. The familiar posture of a certain brunette in the top right box, those inquisitive brown eyes. Sophia’s heart stayed up there while she landed in her dance partner’s hands and turned into pirouette spins like a top (a good analogy for how she felt about him up there). When all was said and done, she couldn’t tell if she was standing looking left or right. It didn’t matter, a guiding hand to her waist whisked them offstage to usher in the final group sequence. Damien handed Soph a flask of water before taking his own. “Are you alright?” he asked innocuously, clocking the subtle change in her headspace like any reliable partner in death-defying stunts should. The tell was that she’d taken the airborne leap too high, which caused heart palpitations for everyone involved in making this routine. Taking a dainty sip of the flask, she felt several averted eyes on her person. “Tch,” she scoffed. “I’m more than alright.”

The show finished without incident, and soon all dancers congregated in the foyer to be joined by family and friends that came to see the opening. The lobbies were regaled with the same fantasy winter wonderland theme, and most stayed in their costumes - Sophia fully decorated as a sparkling Queen of the Sugar Plum Fairies, wearing her tiara and tutu that barely grazed her knees. Not a minute passed before she was ambushed by several acquaintances, congratulating her stunning performance. Mid-conversation, she saw him from the corner of her eye. Taller than most, and the only patron here not grinning like a complete idiot. Truthfully, Sophia did not expect him here, and didn’t dare think he came on his own accord. Gauging by the way Seamus lingered like a fly around spoiled fruit, her hunch was right.

Blue eyes moved back to her guests, and her gracious smile broadened. Time and distance smoothed over some of the jagged edges of their last exchange. Though with her conscience cleared and nothing left to discuss, Sophia set him in the back of her mind. Still, he hadn’t disappeared completely. More than once, she caught herself thinking of him when she noticed the catwalk during rehearsals. Now in her heady post-performance haze, his presence beckoned her. Still, approaching him directly seemed ill-advised. Such a move might only back him into a corner and prompt his hasty departure. Knowing Seamus, it may trigger some alarms as well.

No. Perhaps she might be able to remind him of the temptation first? Would that work?

“I would be more than happy to demonstrate the pirouette up close,” she injected herself smoothly into the course of conversation, as Damien had come to her rescue and helped entertain the guests marveling over the coda. The young man glanced at her ruefully, but obliged. A small group of patrons developed a half circle around the pair, as Sophia gracefully flitted to her toes and her partner resumed position for the first sequence of their pas de deux. It was the most delicate part of the piece, one that seemed as though he pulled and held her limbs in arabesque by an invisible string, carefully turning her into complete rotations. When he dipped her, Sophia’s back arched and arms moved overhead in sylphlike form, and her head tipped back in her target’s general direction. From this upside down angle, their eyes met, and lingered as though appraising each other. For her part, Soph looked genuinely amused to see Ozymandias from this direction.

Damien pulled her back and the two dropped into low curtsies to abridge their sequence there. A round of applause erupted around them. The pair accepted the praise cordially, though Sophia looked past them. For tonight, she only had eyes for one, and he was only a few feet away from her now.

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thank you gin for the set<3

Vixen, Oz thought as he saw her lifted into the air. She was doing this for his benefit; the fact that she'd met his gaze was proof of that, before one even took into account the amused look on her face. She was trying to tease him, but why? What was her end game? They weren't going to end up engaged in the same sorts of activities as before, locked in her dressing room. Even if he wasn't set against it, he didn't know why she would want to rekindle that affair given how things had ended the last time. How could there be anything other than unpleasant memories there now?

At least he wasn't the only one staring. The brunette hardly even seemed disappointed that he'd looked right over her in order to track Sophia's twirl. The smattering of applause was further proof that while she might have intended the performance for him, he was far from its only audience member. The applause was what made it make sense, after a moment: she didn't want him. She wanted attention. Given her profession, this was hardly a novel discovery. She might be seeking his attention specifically because he was withholding it; its relative scarcity since their liaison that summer had made it more valuable.

Oz was reluctant to let her see this as a victory, despite how he'd been captivated by the pirouette. He turned his attention very specifically towards the flower dancer in front of him. "I'm afraid I didn't catch the last bit," he said, gently putting a hand on her elbow to guide her a step away from the rest of the crowd. From her perspective it likely looked as though he were trying to steer her towards somewhere quieter (or perhaps setting the stage to slip away with her later, should things go that direction) but his primary goal was actually finding an excuse to angle his own body away from the prima ballerina. If she wanted his attention so badly, she would have to work harder for it. He checked that his hat was firmly in place. He ought to find the soonest possible excuse to leave, in a place like this.

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MJ is the light of my life <3

That was over the top, Sophia realized with delighted relish as she felt his eyes on her. Their antics gathered a flock of people, patrons enthralled with impromptu encores of the highlights. Seamus looked peeved over the spectacle as well, which only added to her good cheer. Diplomatically, Sophia raised to her toes again and dramatically scouted for the soloist for Clara. She was quickly located, and Sophia introduced her as a rising young talent to the small crowd.

She did not miss the way Ozymandias thought he could drift away in his Irish goodbye. For a new patron to not greet the principal ballerina on opening night? Utterly unheard of. If anything, she was surprised he didn't try to publicly save face after their last debacle at this theater.

Shamelessly Sophia traded places with ‘Clara’, and moved with aplomb through the melee of patrons, greeting them pleasantly as she went along. In time she managed to situate herself into a conversation with an older couple between Mister Dempsey and the door. They stood some feet away from the pair directly behind the corps de ballet dancer Oz was speaking with, though not close enough for them to hear each other’s conversations. Frankly, Sophia thought that dancer was far too young to be put up to this. Not scandalously young, but her head should be on her dance career, not unknown men. She’d have a serious talk with Seamus about his antics later.

They lingered in this position for a few minutes, Sophia hoping to stealthily determine the type and degree of torture this proximity may inflict on her… acquaintance (it took a moment to define what he was to her, and the term felt ill-fitting). She wondered if he expected her to perform her party trick again, based on the way he readjusted his hat. Didn’t he realize she’d perfected that trick for him that evening? The ballerina laughed easily along with the couple at the thought. It wasn’t long until they bid her adieu for the evening, and departed for the door. Shall I act now, or never? she wondered, but only briefly.

Sophia rounded to the Oz and the dancer, approaching the girl from behind quickly before her newfound companion let on. Abruptly she reached to the girl’s waist with a ferocious tickle, a gesture that caused her costume’s colorful petals to unfurl dramatically from her beltline in a fragrant flourish. The girl nearly jumped out of her skin in fright, winding around with astonishment to find the principal ballerina before her. “S-Sophia!” she stammered as the two exchanged la bise. For the time being, it was as though Mister Dempsey did not exist.

“Karina, what a marvelous show, your jetés have improved tremendously,” Sophia explained herself, giving the girl’s slim upper arms a squeeze. The girl seemed properly starstruck, because it was quite unlike Sophia to lay undue praise. Although it seemed to perhaps make something in her brain click. “Ah, this is Mister Dempsey,” she made an airy gesture to introduce Sophia to the gentleman, but rather than curtsy, Soph turned a ponderous gaze up to him as she dropped her hands from Karina.

“Ah… I believe we’ve met before, if I’m not mistaken?” she finally noted with a smirk. Of course, this poor dancer between them had no idea the extent they knew each other. Anyone privy to the rumors of what transpired over the summer wouldn’t touch Seamus’s insistence to meet with this ‘new patron’ of his with a thirty foot pole. Though Sophia hoped this might be a productive lesson for her young dancer. Whether money or anything else - nothing good in life comes so easily.

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ooc. feel free to keep 'Karina' around or send away

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thank you gin for the set<3

No sooner had he settled into his new position with his body angled away from her than she popped up once again within his field of view. She hadn't approached yet, but she must have chosen her conversational partners specifically because speaking with them would put her just over the brunette's shoulder. Devious woman. Perhaps ushering Oz backstage after the performance hadn't been only Lennon's idea; maybe she had put him up to it. It had been weeks since they'd seen each other, so she would have had plenty of opportunities to think how she might trap him. Merlin knew he'd thought of her often enough in the time since they'd last spoken, despite his best efforts to put her out of mind. Oz reached up to brush his knuckles against his cheek in an effort to force himself to focus on the brunette and not let his eye drift back to her, but the scent of cinnamon and clove forced him to face an inconvenient truth. If the game was to monopolize the other's thoughts to the greatest extent possible, hadn't she already won earlier that evening when he'd elected not to wear his usual cologne?

The thought annoyed him, as did Sophia's interruption. Ozymandias felt (absurdly) territorial of the chorus dancer between them. He may not have interacted with her in any real human capacity, but he'd claimed her as a prop for the task of distancing himself from the lead ballerina. Watching her greet Sophia left him with the feeling that he had just been disarmed. He moved his hands to his pockets and frowned as they turned their attention back to him. When she had the audacity to speak to him so casually, as though she had not been placing herself in the way of his gaze for the better part of the past ten minutes, his eyes iced over.

"Indeed." He could think of no reasonably polite way to exclude her from the conversation now that she was here, but he always wasn't interested in playing along with her antics. "Karina," he said, turning his eyes towards the younger woman. He hadn't known her name before — presumably because he had not been paying enough attention, not because she had failed to mention it — but now that he had it, it was easiest way to send a message to Sophia Voss. "You were telling me about your background. Before the London ballet."

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MJ is the light of my life <3

Oh dear, he looked mad. That frown and those icy eyes seemed atypical for his expression, at least in the little she knew of this man named Ozymandias. A different person might have shriveled under this look (indeed, Karina may be naive but she was not stupid, and she seemed to shift uncomfortably next to Sophia at the inperceptable shift of tension in their little triangle). But for Sophia, reaction of any kind only served as a caustic agent for her charades. She enjoyed causing effect.

The prima ballerina’s smile broadened innocuously at Oz’s question to Karina – of course he wouldn’t know, all roads in the ballet lead to Sophia Voss. She turned bright eyes to the girl, inviting her to elaborate. Karina, bless her heart, put forward her most valiant effort.

“Oh, I am Austrian,” she interpreted this question of her background as something to do with her slight accent. “I met the Vosses and Petipa eight years ago at a student clinic in Vienna,” she referenced the choreographer she’d mentioned earlier, and brightened at the memory. “I auditioned for the corps de ballet then, but only made reserve. Mrs. Voss encouraged me to audition with the Imperial Ballet the following year. Do you remember?”  She regarded Sophia with a shy smile, “My grandmother would not let me travel out of the country on my own, for only an audition. So you came to fetch me personally.” Sophia hadn’t remembered, and it made her feel badly that she didn’t. Now she did, of course. She entertained Karina’s grandmother all afternoon in an effort to smooth the matter over.

“Of course I do,” Sophia chuckled softly. “If I remember correctly, she was enamored with Tsar Alexander the Third. I wish I started on that point. Once it became apparent you would dance for the Tsar’s family, you couldn’t leave fast enough.” Karina laughed at that, nodding with clear relief that the conversation ebbed in a more comfortable direction.

Sophia glanced sidelong to Oz during this exchange, hoping to get a read on why he adopted such a peculiar disposition. It wasn’t as though she expected a direct approach (she assumed if he felt strongly about anything he’d have already written to her). But he was here now, which on one hand seemed like the type of opportunistic venture a man of his station might take on a whim. Yet he acted as though he didn’t wish to be here. Had something put him off, even after her apology? Had something scared him? Stranger things have happened – a simple matter of a distraught wife back home may have guilted him from pursuing anything beyond superficial discussion with a pretty girl. But he did not strike her as a man who felt much guilt over pursuing what he liked. So was it possible he ceased being interested in her at all? 

“Well for that afternoon tea I owe you my entire career,” Karina layered on charitably, eager to make her company aware of how beloved and committed their prima ballerina was. The girl turned to address Dempsey with more confidence than she had before, booned by the presence of her role model. “I was with the Magical Imperial Ballet for seven years before…” Everyone knew about the tragedy, obviously. “The dance company closed. When Mrs. Voss announced her purchase of this theater house with the endowment, there was no question if I would follow her here. Most of the girls here did,” Great Merlin’s ghost this girl was bumbling now, and Sophia disguised a surprised noise at mention of the endowment with a light cough. This was much more intimate knowledge than she had desire for Ozymandias to know.

“Ah, let’s not bore Mister Dempsey with these mundane details,” she volunteered hastily, giving Karina’s shoulder a light squeeze and teasing look. “He simply wished to know a bit more about you.” Sophia threw a quick glance over her shoulder to him with a raised eyebrow as though to say, satisfied?

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thank you gin for the set<3

Perhaps Ozymandias was wrong to be annoyed that Madam Voss had stolen his defense mechanism, because as far as props went Karina was turning out to be a lousy one. The silly girl couldn't even flirt properly. He'd made a show of interest in her for the first time since they'd started talking, and here she was babbling on about the lead ballerina. (If it was Sophia Voss' favor that she wanted and not Ozymandias Dempsey's, she was doing a fine job of flirting, but Oz doubted that was what the manager had in mind when he'd put her up to this conversation). If she'd had the sense to just stop talking he might have been able to say something charming about Austria and ask some targeted questions in that direction, but now she was off on topics he couldn't bring himself to care about — grandmothers and Tsars and the hierarchy of ballet company auditions. He wished he'd taken the time to get a drink from the lobby bar before he came back here, but as it was he was standing with his hands in his pockets still, trapped.

His ears did perk when the girl said Mrs. Voss announced her purchase of the theater house. Of course Karina could have been mistaken, or she might have misspoke — she probably meant when Mrs. Voss announced the purchase of the theater house — but the way that Sophia responded, quick to jump up and distract, made him think perhaps there was something to it. He arched an eyebrow at her. If his only attachment to the ballet was that he'd sent her roses and tried to seduce her, this would have been none of his business, but he was a patron of the ballet. His money was invested in this, which meant he felt entitled to some transparency when it came to matters such as who owns the building. Not that he had ever been outright lied to (at least, not that he could recall), but there had certainly been some misdirection involved in the conversations he'd had with Lennon prior to confirming his patronage. He felt an effort had been made to take advantage of him, and he didn't care for that at all.

Oz shifted his weight, leaning back from both of them slightly as he regarded Sophia. The chorus dancer was speaking again, eager to make up for the fault her mentor had pointed out in her answer, but he wasn't listening and didn't bother to wait until she'd finished before he interrupted. "I expect I'll have plenty of opportunities to get to know you better." He pulled his eyes away from the lead ballerina long enough to flash a suave smile at Karina. "But I wouldn't want to monopolize too much of your time on such an auspicious night, my dear. I'm sure you have friends and family eager to congratulate you on tonight's performance."

For all her blundering uselessness earlier, she did at least recognize when she was being dismissed. She agreed with him and said her goodbyes, then melted back into the crowd of dancers and guests behind them. Oz and Sophia were alone — or as alone as two people could be in a crowded space, anyway (probably as alone as they would ever be again, if Ozy stuck to his internal commitment). He dropped the smile and looked at her frankly. Well?

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MJ is the light of my life <3

Ozymandias certainly knew how to feign appearances. But then, she shouldn’t be surprised, as most gentry required great skill in the performance of small talk. She watched him appreciatively as he went along in polite conversation that dragged through the muck, until he found a perfect moment to sever its connection. Karina reeled for just a moment but quickly grasped his artfully delivered meaning. Once they bid her adieu, Sophia caught her looking only a bit mortified as she rushed to her line of girls on the corps.

Sophia also couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t immediately follow with a goodbye that severed her. She’d been waiting for it, head politely angled over her shoulder to see off the departing dancer. When it did not arrive so soon, she took her sweet time turning to finally gaze up to Mister Dempsey.

He looked displeased, so she smiled at him placidly. It’s not as though she could act like there weren't still be eyes on her. But that look he gave her might have sent a flicker of irritation across her expression. Well? she should be scoffing and demanding answers of him. Given that she hoped to make things less complicated between them (if that were remotely possible), she bit back her impulsive tongue.

“You’ll have to forgive Karina, as she doesn’t typically engage with the patrons,” she finally started experimentally. A slim eyebrow raised in clear skepticism of his interest in her. “My guess is that Lennon put her up to this, when everyone else refused.” Implied meaning here being, everyone else is not that stupid. She could’ve gone on to elaborate that while they spoke, little Karina was likely receiving all the sordid details over what happened between them this summer (at least the rumors of it – none of which Sophia ever confirmed or denied). But that felt as though it verged too far on the end of savage, and she seemed to remember that he considered himself a man of dignity.

It didn’t occur to Sophia that he might be suspicious of what he learned. Perhaps because there was nothing suspicious about it – the details of the business arrangement all laid out in plain sight, had he ever cared to inquire. Though she perceived that he was quite cross with her, for reasons she did not want to imagine. She had to know.

“I could not help but notice how you’ve kept your distance. Are you upset with me?” she asked, the sweetness in her voice belied by a playfully derisive expression.

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thank you gin for the set<3

Ozymandias had wondered if Lennon was behind Karina's approach initially, so he was not surprised to hear her say the same, but the way she phrased it did irk him somewhat. When everyone else refused. He knew that the entire ballet would likely have been talking about his abrupt departure from the theater that summer, which was in large part why it had been so galling, but that didn't mean he enjoyed being reminded of it. He took great care to cultivate his reputation (though those who saw him at parties with his wife would never have guessed it); he didn't want to be talked about except on his own terms. He certainly did not want to be talked about in the same breath as rejection, though he wasn't sure that anyone knew enough about the circumstances of their summer affair to have guessed this part. If he had to make a wager, though, he'd put his money on Sophia recounting the tale in a light that was most favorable to her, if she talked about it at all.

But that was neither here nor there; he couldn't change it now, at any rate. Better to focus on the present, and presently he didn't know what Mrs. Voss was trying to get from him. His attention, yes, but he'd dismissed Karina and she had it now. Why banter on this way, playing innocent? She knew very well where matters stood between the pair of them, and yet she had tried to catch his eye anyway. She had approached him, not the other way around.

"I'm trying to figure out what your game is," he said, quietly enough that no one would overhear unless they made a spectacle of themselves trying to crowd close enough to eavesdrop. "But I know you well enough to know you wouldn't admit to it if asked, so I won't bother."

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MJ is the light of my life <3

Sophia’s expression turned a bit quizzical with his statement, feeling as though she missed a tremendous cue to explain what had Ozymandias so worked up. It was enough to give her pause - not something typical for her silver-tongued preference for smooth and seamless conversation. At the mention of her game, the woman cocked her head to the side, lips finally tipped into the slightest frown. It didn’t match the mirth of her Queen Sugar Plum Fairy costume.

“There are no games at play here, Mister Dempsey,” she finally answered, matching his curt and quiet tone. However irked she was to be having this conversation here in the crowd, not having it seemed out of the question. “Although I suppose given your general disposition to me now, you would not believe me without proof?”  She quirked an eyebrow impatiently at him, wishing that he’d just spit it out rather than swirl around in this strange pretense. However difficult it was to define her relationship with this man, being treated like a criminal did not sit well with her one bit. Not without knowing what she’d done wrong in the first place.

“Is it that my apology was unsatisfactory, once you had the time to reflect upon it?” she mused, looking at him expectantly. Then, bright blue eyes narrowed thoughtfully, “Or is it perhaps that you were quite taken with Karina? Did I block you from a tantalizing experience?” Sophia wasn’t the jealous type, much less over something so poorly defined as this, but she wanted to cut right into the heart of the matter and baiting was a good enough start as any. She could be man enough for both of them, if he so wished to dance around this.

“Hm, or is it that I said you would be refused by the other dancers too?” she went on, feeling as the words left her tongue that she was straying into more dangerous territory. The territory that made her say or do impulsive things she’d regret. Keeping her voice quieter still, “They’re simply being loyal to me, given that I’ve staked my claim. Though it appears as though our circumstances have changed more than I realized.”

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thank you gin for the set<3

Ozymandias rolled his eyes in exasperation as she asked whether he'd been taken with the chorus dancer. That was obviously not the case, and she knew it; he wondered at her even bothering to put such a ridiculous notion into words. True, in the midst of his conversation with her while Sophia had been talking to the older couple over her shoulder, the idea of seducing her had briefly occurred to him, but only out of spite (for Mrs. Voss or Mr. Lennon, he was not entirely sure). Even then he had immediately discarded it as a ridiculous fancy, not to be indulged. The last thing he needed were more entanglements at the London Ballet. Before he could say anything to refute her on the point of Karina, however, she had moved on to the other dancers, and then to a phrase that caught in his chest like heartburn: given that I've staked my claim.

"It seems to me that you aren't in a position to be staking claims on anyone," he pointed out. The situation had not changed since they'd first met; he'd only become more aware of the reality that had always been there. She was still madly in love with her deceased husband, and she was one memory away from a fit of hysteria. He'd witnessed the way she could turn on a coin firsthand. He had accepted her apology for the way she'd behaved in the dressing room, but the apology did not wipe the slate clean between them. It did not give her carte blanche to flirt with him now, when they both knew nothing could come of it.

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MJ is the light of my life <3

He barely took any of her bait, which was as irritating as it was disappointing. Sure, the clear exasperation at her suggestion regarding Karina told her she was getting a little closer to her mark. But whatever satisfaction that may have shored up from understanding that he was not interested in just any dancer quickly dissipated with his obstinate standoffishness.

Since it was a game they played, according to him, Sophia supposed that she ought to cast the opening serve in their match. The ballerina did not know to what end she pursued this, or what winning really entailed. Though she hoped she might get out of it a suave smile, similar to what he offered her during their first encounters. Not the Karina smile, the genuine interest smile. She could already tell the difference, and on her opening night she resolved that she deserved to see it. The conscious part of Sophia’s mind pretended that her desires ended there.

Of course, he could just run away. He seemed adept at evasive maneuvers. Driving him off would likely be the easier route, and prone to less letdown.

With an exaggerated sigh at his quip, the ballerina ventured a step closer to him. Nothing inappropriate, although perhaps a bit more familiar, and it drew a sharper contrast in the height difference between them. Sophia wore her most beguiling smile, and peered right up to his skeptical brown eyes.

“Perhaps I misunderstood the look you gave me during my solos, then,” she offered soothingly. “Please enlighten me. What should my position be?”

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thank you gin for the set<3

Her step towards him felt like a threat, but rather than being inclined to take a step backwards and return the space between them, Ozymandias had an instinct to mirror her. He may have been on her territory, but that didn't mean he ought to be the one ceding ground. Fortunately he resisted when he realized in what close proximity that would put the two of them (certainly close enough to draw attention, but not quite enough to touch her — in other words, all of the risk of making a move in with none of the rewards).

The smile she offered him raised the hair on the back of his neck. Of course she'd seen the way he watched her during the solos; even if she hadn't, she probably could have enlisted espionage from one of the other dancers to keep an eye on him throughout the performance and report back. Nothing he did in this theater was safe from her, which was (yet again) a very good reason to leave. He knew this, and he had been thinking it for the past ten minutes, and still when she asked what should my position be a part of him couldn't help but imagine a few positions he might enjoy seeing her in...

A full two seconds later, it occurred to him that he was still staring her in the eyes and had yet to muster any sort of response. He frowned and busied himself with the process of fishing his cigar case from an interior jacket pocket, then found and lit a cigarette. He did not offer her one.

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MJ is the light of my life <3

Sometimes, no response is the response.

As the seconds stretched out, Sophia tried in vain to not let her smug triumph shine through. Her gaze was unshrinking, and so was his. Neither did he step away, she noticed with satisfaction. There were any number of ways she could close the distance between them now, each idle thought more enticing than the next. If only Lennon wasn’t around the corner somewhere.

Enjoying the effect she appeared to have on Ozymandias, she only broke eye contact once he dove for a cigarette like it was a life preserver jacket in choppy waters. It briefly reminded her of winning staring contests as a child, and this combined with the absurdity of their encounters to date finally registered in the pit of her diaphragm.

She burst out into giggles. Soft ones she tried to stifle, the back of her hand and wrist covering her face as she looked away. Any tension Sophia felt, at least, diffused immediately. Once she’d settled herself down and Oz lit his cigarette, she turned a cheerfully apologetic look to him.

“Ozymandias,” she nearly whispered his first name, beseeching him. And then furrowed her brows. This was as close as she could lower herself to the prospect of begging (at least among things she’d do in public). But she’d do it to earn his smile.

“I admit things haven’t gone smoothly between us so far. But surely we have enough… history, for you to at least greet me properly.” She paused tactfully to find the right word to describe their circumstances, and she assessed his reaction carefully: “Or is my presence so offensive to you now?”

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The following 1 user Likes Sophia Lissington's post:1 user Likes Sophia Lissington's post
   Ozymandias Dempsey

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thank you gin for the set<3

Ozy's cheeks colored despite his efforts to keep his expression neutral. She was laughing at him and he couldn't even blame her. He was ridiculous. This entire situation was ridiculous. He should not have allowed himself to be talked into coming backstage after the performance. He shouldn't have talked himself into coming here tonight in the first place. He raised his cigarette to his lips and smelled both the tobacco and the cinnamon-clove scent dabbed on his wrist and felt a surge of self-loathing. He was wearing too much cologne, he was suddenly convinced; had he subconsciously been hoping she would notice?

He inhaled through the cigarette and felt the smoke burn his lungs. Should he drop the pretense and admit defeat? She had bested him. He'd found her magnetic since the first time he'd seen her, and the effect hadn't diminished after everything that had happened. He might tell himself that he felt tricked into this situation, trapped, advanced upon like a duelist who had been disarmed, but the truth was he could have cut his loses and left at any point. He was still here.

Oz blew the smoke out above her head and rolled his cigarette between two fingers. "Sophia," he replied, a quiet concession. He glanced off to one side at a group of other guests greeting the Mouse King and shifted his weight, as though saying even this much made him nervous. "The powder you showed me in the catwalks," he continued, voice stilted. "Was it in use during tonight's performance?"

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   Sophia Lissington

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MJ is the light of my life <3

Sophia’s eyes sparkled with renewed interest, pleased to find that he was chagrined but seemingly not offended by their exchange. For if he were, she was certain he would have left already. The fact stands that he hadn’t, and when he looked at her, his eyes conveyed such a scrupulous regard for detail that she nearly felt naked. Surely he could see her interest in him was still palatable. Though if it wasn’t, she bit her lower lip expectantly, watching him take a long drag of his cigarette.

The sound of her name from his lips had that lightening effect on her again, trilling down her spine and tingling her fingertips. It broadened her smile to him; this concession felt meaningful. Even though she reveled in the way he glanced away as though he were interested in something else, it still made a poor replacement for the smile she hoped to gain. He wore nervousness like ill-fitting shoes: it seemed awkward and painful. He was lucky Sophia felt charitable tonight, at any rate. She was more than willing to help him jump over this next hurdle.

“Why yes, it was,” she responded agreeably enough, folding her hands in front of her in the absence of anything to do with them. Or rather, because she couldn’t do anything to him. “Perhaps you noticed how the parlor felt warm and cozy as if by the fireplace yourself? And how it transformed into a wintery wonderland – perhaps you felt a slight chill.” Like the chill between them, to which she ruthlessly took an ice pick to help thaw.

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The following 1 user Likes Sophia Lissington's post:1 user Likes Sophia Lissington's post
   Ozymandias Dempsey

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thank you gin for the set<3