9585/La beauté et la bête

La beauté et la bête
Date of Scene:	15 October 2019
Location:	The Coffee Bean - Manhattan
Synopsis:	Daken and Monet meet. To say they hit it off is an understatement.
Cast of Characters:	M, Daken

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M has posed:
Monet heads inside, pulling her comfortable cashmere peacoat off of her shoulders and approaching the line. She's leggy and hard to ignore with dusky skin and perfect posture with a confidence that commands the room whether she likes it or not -- and she usually likes it. Her delicate chin is lifted and she's finished scanning the menu up before her before she murmurs something about a double s'more latte. She doesn't seem like that's what she'd order, but Monet adores sugar and probably consumes way too much of it.

She pays for her coffee and scone and slinks toward the area where you politely wait for your food.. and she does, standing with her hands tucked in her jeans pockets -- chin lifted.

Daken has posed:
Well, entering the Coffee Bean might be someone who commands the same level of superiority that Monet does! Daken enters wearing a red flannel jacket with fur around the trim. a black T-shirt, some dark blue jeans and combat boots. His hair is not in the mohawk that sometimes it is, but rather, it comes down to his shoulders in a sleeked way. His facial hair was recently trimmed, but his eyes fall on Monet.

The leggy beauty definitely caught his eyes.

He moves over to the buying counter. "I'll like my coffee Black please." likes his nice and bitter, does he?

But it may be now that Monet feels the pheromones that he tries to hide with his cologne. She could feel anything towards him. Hate, unforgivable laughter, romantic attraction, intense pity, disgust...any social emotion!

M has posed:
Monet has plenty of other things to be bitter about so she takes her coffee sweet. When Daken enters the room, her dark eyes track him keenly -- wearing a simple cashmere sweater in a silvery lilac hue, a pair of jeans that are very well-tailored to her, and a pair of heeled boots which her jeans had been tucked into -- skimming her knee, a light fawn brown. Monet tilts her chin up and sniffs the air -- her very, very keen nose twitches and her eyes narrow. Her expression is hidden suddenly as she looks down at her feet -- studying her boots for once in her life.
She continues to hide her expression -- keeping herself blank-faced until she picks up her freshly made coffee drink -- that she draws sip after sip from. She looks up at Daken, unable to help looking over at him -- perhaps because of his command over the room. It's hard to say.

Daken has posed:
Daken then moves over to his place where he gets to wait in line for his drink. He comes noticeably close to Monet, he almost makes physical contact, but he doesn't. When she looks at him, he notices, but he doesn't let her know that. His chin is slightly upturned, just a little bit as he waits patiently for his paid drink. He does look at Monet now, maybe catching her attention on him if she's still looking.

Though while Monet is just looking over at him, Daken is shamelessly 'admiring God's creation' as it were.

"Hi." He eventually greets her.

M has posed:
It's hard being Monet and having the nose she has. She inhales through flared nostrils, frowning to herself at the scent mingled with cologne -- not in an unkind way, she looks more concerned. She plays it off, glancing over until he's shameless enough to greet her. Monet goes to grab the scone she'd ordered; her big, dark eyes flicking back up to Daken when he says hi. Monet turns to face him, holding both treats in her delicate hands -- holding them close to herself.

"Hi," she says in return, her voice a little hoarse from not being used, perhaps. She clears her throat, taking a drink before she looks back over at him. She clearly doesn't mind being admired; it comes as a relief to her -- watching him right back now that they've said hello. "I'm Monet." She says as if to offer her own venture into unfamiliar territory.

Daken has posed:
She says hi too. So far, its going surprisingly well for Daken. This usually uh...doesn't happen. Well, must mean she's either resistant or she's falling for a very specific emotion that the pheromones are giving. Not that he's complaining. She's quite the looker. Reaching just over her shoulder even to accept his coffee, his eye contact doesn't break.

"I'm Daken." He tells her in return. "Nice to meet you, Monet. Beautiful name." If she lets him, his free hand will take hers, if only so he can press a kiss to her knuckles in that suave kind of manner.

M has posed:
Monet draws in another breath -- looking at him as he kisses her hand, which she allows. She'd not minded, not feeling any /bad/ feelings toward Daken -- not breaking eye contact with him either. It isn't a dominant thing; it is perhaps some way to measure up. She doesn't break eyecontact even when he reaches over her shoulder.

When he introduces himself as Daken, her eyes narrow -- taking brief offense on his behalf, but she can sense no contempt when he introduces himself, so the innately empathetic Monet simply inclines her head -- looking up at him through her eyelashes. "Daken, nice to meet you too. You'll have to tell me how you got that name," she murmurs, clearly understanding the language.

Daken has posed:
If it was a battle for dominance, well...so far it looks like its a tie. If she lets him, he keeps her hand in his grasp as he takes a few steps backwards, as if to lead her to a booth where they may talk freely. Or to the exit, if she would rather walk with him then sit. But to the rest of the store? Its like the two obnoxiously beautiful people just met. Its like high school all over again!

"I'm surprised. Not many people know my name's meaning. Its a long story. I'll tell you if you promise to tell me about yourself." He flirts, casually and shamelessly. His eyes never leaving hers. She smells amazing, too. Christ.

He wonders briefly if she speaks Japanese, but he has a few tricks of the lingual sense up his sleeve too.

M has posed:
Monet's too-keen, too-sensitive nose has disarmed her -- coupled with Daken's features and demeanor. She admires confidence, especially confidence in her presence. She lets him keep her hand -- following him quietly to a booth so they can speak freely. She slips into the booth comfortably -- bringing the delicious sugary coffee treat up so that she can have herself a drink. She takes a bite of the scone, peeking up through her eyelashes before responding to him in Japanese. She's well-schooled. "I promise to tell you about myself. It's nothing too interesting," Monet murmurs -- sinking back to sit comfortably and stack her legs left atop right. Monet isn't dealing in any amazing pheremones, just a warm vanilla smell that's light unless they have senses such as Daken.

Daken has posed:
Daken smirks when she slips int othe booth, he glides in on the other side, keeping his eyes firmly on her own. He sips his coffee before he looks almost presently surprised. He switches comfortably into Japanese. "Good. Not interesting? Why, you're the most interesting person I've ever seen." Oh yes, he speaks with a kind of sultry manner, his pheromones working that much harder on Monet.

Good thing for Monet that vanilla is one of his favorite scents.

If she lets him, he'll toy with her fingers a little bit with his own. "In Japan, I was born as a mixed child. Canadian and Japanese, specifically. See, back then they really didn't like that. So, even though my name is Akihiro...well, most of the people who knew me called me Daken." Mongrel or dog. Japan was not one for kindness.

"And thats the story. I know, not quite exciting, but...well, I'll be confident in what they chose to define me as. One day I'll make it mean something else."

M has posed:
She watches his face; her Japanese is excellent, as if she speaks it often -- or she's just familiar with it. Monet inhales, nostrils flaring -- blowing the air out of her nostrils before she draws it back in. "I like Akihiro, too. Saying Daken feels wrong, and you aren't.. that word isn't right." She snorts, annoyed. She clearly has a huge issue with racism. "My father is Cartier St Croix, and my mom was an Algerian princess --" She falters, not sharing anything about being special, or a mutant. Monet leaves being able to throw cars through buildings out.

Daken may be in the know about who she is by clues and her father.. along with her last name. Still, she looks up into his eyes -- searching his face. "I know how you feel.. being called words like that." Twice over, perhaps. She tilts her chin back up, pleased with the way he smells. She isn't really trying to hide that and she hasn't even tried to go poking around in his brain. Monet is on her best behavior.

Daken has posed:
Daken looks at Monet as she speaks her words. "Thank you." Daken tells her with the warmest of smiles. "I don't hear that very often and I appreciate it." If Daken's demeanor is anything to go by, he's clearly not a racist. Considering that he's flirting with and is quite attracted to Monet, thats all the proof that one would need. "If you wish, you can call me Akihiro." Daken's name is quite literally 'Daken Akihiro' in the legal sense, so it works either way.

He gives her the option. Anything beyond or before is up to her.

He hears that her father is Cartier St. Croix and her mother is literally royalty. He smiles at her even still. "Royalty huh? Pretty neat. I kinda grew up the opposite way, but you must've had a fun upbringing." Of course, he's testing the waters with that.

"Well...if we're both being called names, how about we look out for each other?" He goes from just playing with her fingers to outright trying to hold her hand. Is this a date now? Is that what this is? Daken didn't much care. He just kinda...genuinely wanted to spend time with her.

M has posed:
"Akihiro," she repeats. She'd never have forgotten this information after the first time he'd mentioned it -- but saying his name is nice. She admires his features with her eyebrow furrowed, pleased by them -- especially someone who is terribly nice to look at. As nice as her, just of the male persuasion. "It was.. interesting. I was born on a ski trip in Sarajevo but we're from Monaco," she explains -- knowing that's not even a remarkable thing in the scheme of Monet's entire biography.

She presses her full lips together, resisting poking around in his head for his view of mutants because that's wrong, Monet. "..So before you get too far holding my hand, I'm a mutant." She informs him matter of factly, no shame in her voice -- she just knows the score and has no idea who on earth she's talking to. She doesn't seem to mind holding his hand; he's got all of the right markers for M's attraction.

Daken has posed:
"Monaco, huh? I always did like Monaco. I only went one time, but that was for a business meeting of sorts." Nah, not a business meeting. Fool was running for the hills because he popped the claws and murdered some serial killers, so that makes him a killer himself, naturally.

If she thought -he- was a looker, she clearly didn't know what he thought about her appearance. And maybe some dirty thoughts here and there to accompany it, as men generally do. But Daken keeps his attention on her. When she flat out tells him that she's a mutant and is perhaps expecting his repulsion from her, he shakes his head.

"Not a problem. I'm a mutant too." Cue record scratch and internal screaming.

M has posed:
Monet is flat-out blunt at times -- chopping through the bullshit in life to snip the anxiety away about her being a mutant but not being known. "A busines meeting?" She wonders, curious about what on earth he would be doing business wise in Monaco. It makes her terribly curious but she doesn't press, she just listens.

She had waited with bated breath after she'd explained her situation, watching his face -- not knowing what to expect. When he explains that he's a mutant too, she relaxes visibly -- having never let his hands go, she'd just gone a little more still. She looks up at his face again, searching his eyes with that dark pair -- her other hand settling atop his. "It makes sense." Clearly, she says that in a good way.

Daken has posed:
"I was uh...running." Daken finally comes clean about the 'business' he was attending to in Monaco. "Sadly, I didn't get to enjoy my stay." He says with a look that would basically sum up that Monet would somehow understand and know what he means or how he feels. New York isn't the only place with people who fanatically don't like mutants!

When she rests her hand on top of his, Daken smiles kindly to her. "Looks like we might be an interesting pair, yet." he teases her with a bit of a wink as his eyes fall to her lips, then back to her eyes. He does use his free hand to lightly sip at his coffee though.

M has posed:
She has coffee that she is reminded of -- reaching for her cup to drag it toward herself for another drink. She has another bite of scone -- her hand sweeping over the crown of her head, preening her fingers through her curly, wild hair. She preens it behind her ear, watching his teasing wink with a smile that broadens on her heartbreakingly pretty face and makes her dimples deeper.

"What is your favorite thing to do in the whole entire world?" She asks him curiously, her voice hushed -- her French accent creeping into the edges of her voice thanks to where she'd grown up. "I have this little feeling that there's a lot to you that I'm not seeing.. a lot more than anyone would expect." She says this quietly, finishing her scone.

Daken has posed:
Oh she's pretty and she knows it. What can Daken say to that? It definitely won't be no. But he smiles at her as she speaks with that French accent. French accents or sexy, he's gotta admit it! But then she asks him that million dollar question: What is his favorite thing to do in the whole world?

Kiss beautiful women named Monet, obviously!

"Hmm..well, the mediocre ones are watching the sunset and eat Saganaki." the latter one being a lovely, LOVELY Greek dish. He became addicted to the stuff during his time in Athens. "But my -favorite- thing to do? Well...I like to snowboard."

M has posed:
Monet knows a great many things and being pretty is one of them. Monet continues to listen to his voice -- watching face face so she can be completely tuned into his voice. She's listening to his heartbeat and is drawing deep breaths that are slow and serene. Monet is relaxed, very distracted by this very pretty distraction. Her coffee is finished but she doesn't seem to care - she just nudges the cup aside.

"Fried cheese? That's a really good choice. I've never had it, I've just heard of it." She informs him -- uncrossing her long legs so that she can lean forward with her elbows on the table. "My favorites are flight and full nights of sleep," she informs him. Luxurious, delicious, nightmareless sleep.

Daken has posed:
Daken knows he has her full attention and she possesses all of his. Those eyes look into her own as she leans forward as she does and he leans forward a bit too. Only a few people glance their way because uh...they're both smoking hot. Though Daken takes a bit of a risk, he gets -really- close and he makes a joke she may or may not appreciate.

"Well, I might be able to help you with the former...but I can definitely help you with the latter." He winks then, being humorous, but his voice turned very seductive at that moment, looking into her eyes even still.

This is also a test to see if she has a sense of humor. Or finds him sexy. Flip a coin?

M has posed:
She relishes this distraction -- glancing over at the one person she notices looking at them. She rolls her eyes at the other people pointedly, and then looks back over toward Daken and his impending joke. She studies his handsome face -- his shoulders, the likes of his hair, his eyes. Everything. Monet is shrewd and mean enough to find flaws, but all she finds are things she likes. When he gets so close, he can smell her -- she has normal feminine pheremones that mix with whatever fine, sweet smelling perfume oil she's wearing.

Monet looks up to Daken at his joke, her chin lifting a little -- eyes locked onto his. "Your help for that endeavor would be wonderful but I must say I am a little skeptical.. I'm quite the insomniac," she murmurs to him, eyes still on his.

Daken has posed:
Daken's face has no flaws. Not even the smallest scar. Its all perfectly symmetrical. His face is so chiseled, you could cut yourself on the edges. Not really, but they're very well-defined. He can smell her though alright, and she smells -amazing-. He'll even touch her nose with his own to see how close he'd be allowed to get to her.

"Good thing I have a lot of stamina to burn. I could go all night long you know, I'm quite stubborn." Then he leans in closer, forehead to forehead...

M has posed:
She admires his face -- searching his features, admiring them, perhaps because they're remarkable. She lets her gaze catch his again -- her delicate nose touching his. She'd let him get close which is pretty remarkable considering her general distaste for most beings she encounters for one reason or another. She remembers that she'd been holding her breath, and she lets it escape finally.

"You can keep up with me then?" She hasn't really shared even the surface of what she's capable of. It doesn't matter, her forehead is against his -- her eyes closed, lips slightly parted, her breath shaky. She laces her fingers with his -- one in each hand, her eyebrow furrowed.

Daken has posed:
Daken feels her finally release her breath. She's nervous. She's perfect. He lets his lips part in response to her own and he smiles. "Easily." He replies to her question about keeping pace with her. Then finally, his mouth opens as his fingers lace with hers, but thats just a distraction.

He leans in the final way to try and kiss Monet deeply. Hotly. Passionately. Time to find out if there's a spark!

M has posed:
Monet is iffy on anyone keeping pace with her -- but perhaps Daken could pull off such a thing. She narrows her eyes, intoxicated by his confidence -- and the smell of him which she can't figure out, for all of her intense brain power. When he mentions that he could do it easily, she opens her mouth to speak but there's a kiss from the man who had disarmed her in quick order. She makes a soft, pleased sound when he kisses her -- returning the heat of it with one little hand curving over the back of his neck. There's a strength in her grip that she's carefully measured to be gentle -- her other hand still in his. The kiss she returns to Daken is hot, her soft mouth sealed against his, mirroring his passion.

Daken has posed:
"Mmmm..." Daken is surprised to find such a firm grip on the back of his neck as he kisses Monet with such fervent passion that others in the restaurant take notice and some of the ladies start to laugh and the gentlemen whistle.

And oh yes, Monet may feel the warmth of Daken's tongue run across her own, teasingly, suggesting that he's open to deepen it. Though they've practically already agreed to some...after hours activities, Daken's just showing her he knows the secrets of kissing...and if she's french, she totally knows how to French kiss.

Mhm. Totally.

M has posed:
Monet tastes his tongue -- giving him a little taste of deeper kissing before she clears her throat and leans back with a uncharacteristically shy expression. She'd pulled away after she heard the ladies giggling; her cheeks flushed bright and hot. She doesn't seem to be at all ashamed, just shy. Monet looks up at him with those dark eyes, thick lashes touching her cheeks for a moment as she gives a little squirm in her seat and goes still. "I am never, ever speechless," she informs him, her big dark eyes darting up to his lips and then his eyes.

Daken has posed:
The kiss was amazing. Daken was fully in on it, then Monet pulled away when she heard people giving their specific comments on their display of affection. So, Daken smirks and he gets out of his booth, tugging on her hand to suggest that its time to leave. "Well...It is a gift of mine. Do I ask if you want your place or mine?" He teases. He knows she's a very dominant woman...but he's a dominant man.

No recessive genes here!

"Come on, lets go where you're comfortable."

M has posed:
Monet gives the laughing people a glance -- feeling out of sorts, her guard having lowered thanks to the perfect and usually unattainable storm of everything he is. Monet pushes her fingers over her temples, standing upright and giving him another glance. "Your place," the curious creature murmurs in Japanese, leaving her trash on the table for the barista to clean up because she's still Monet and she tipped a 20 spot. She doesn't seem to have a problem getting comfortable.

Daken has posed:
He knows that look. He's seen and observed people who've worn that same look. So Daken leans over and kisses her tmeple when she tells him his place affirmatively. "Alright. My place it is." And he leads her out of the coffee house.

About a ten minute jaunt later...

They come across his apartment. When they enter, first thing Monet will notice is that it is IMMACULATE. Like she can see her reflection in the dark wood floors. Clearly, Daken isn't poor or he wouldn't be able to afford this place. There's a flatscreen television on the wall, some nice long couches, a perfect dining room, a functional kitchen...it was very homely, in a word. Of course, across the way is a queen-sized bed that looks extremely comfortable right about now.

"Home sweet home."

M has posed:
Monet is pleased when he agrees to take her to his place -- perhaps because she doesn't have a permanent residence. Not yet. Monet follows him to his immaculate apartmwnt that is such a short way away. It is truly a jaunt, and her eyebrow furrows at how close it is and how interesting her luck and fate had been today. She's impressed by the immaculate, nice home he's brought her to -- admiring their reflection in his floor, both his face and her own -- in stark relief against the dark floor. She seems comfortable; no people around to laugh.