Log: Ongoing

[ripthehunter.livejournal.com]

When; Tonight.
Rating; Eh...PG-13? Probably shouldn't go much higher than that, given I'm a minor.
Characters; Rip van Winkle (ripthehunter), Roy Mustang (pet_my_ego)
Summary; Rip drops by Colonel Mustang's humble abode. JOLLY FAMILY FUN AWAITS
Log;

Eins.

Rip sauntered past the first apartment door, mentally counting it off. Considering who she was about to visit, the flattering black dress she wore seemed more than appropriate. It was unusual, not roaming the city in her familiar suit and trousers. Which wasn't to say she didn't find it a refreshing change. Nothing could be further from the truth, in fact. When you've been living (and dead, in this case) for nearly a century, deviations from the norm tend to be welcomed with open arms.

Zwei.

All that annoyed her were the high-heels serving as a mild hindrance to the almost constant spring in her step. But she'd endured them before. Or, rather, the colonel had.

Drei.

Ah, the colonel, Rip mused.

If his apparent abilities were anything to go by, Herr Major would eagerly have given an arm and a leg for a man like Roy Mustang on Millennium's side. Obviously not his own, Rip imagined. Why do a silly thing like that when a subordinate's limbs could be sacrificed without a second thought?

Vier.

From what Rip had observed of him, the colonel appeared to be a dedicated individual. Surely he'd been a source of admiration to his fellow soldiers in the world he arrived here from.

A tad bit arrogant, maybe. Though she herself was far from above that sort of attitude.

He was also decidedly charming. Always a pleasant quality. And while she rarely paid attention to such things anymore, to say he wasn't attractive would be a terrible lie. The vampire allowed a thoughtful smirk to cross her lips.

Fünf.

Rip van Winkle always held a motive, however. Just as Kaspar attempted to offer up the soul of Max rather than his own by persuading him to cast the magic bullets.

Sechs.

Integral Hellsing respected the colonel as well, or so it seemed. Perhaps to the extent that she would command lenience of her leashed devil upon the man's request.

Sieben.

Indulging humans often proved to be quite an entertaining activity. So if this particular human could possibly provide a veil of safety, well...

Acht.

...That just made said indulgence all the more worthwhile, didn't it?

Neun.

Rip gave three sharp knocks, took a slight step back, and waited.

Comments

[pet-my-ego.livejournal.com]

Roy Mustang's incessant pacing could have burned treadmarks into the carpet. He was anything but an equivocal, but the Colonel seemed anxious. It was only a date -- a harmless rendezvous. Perhaps he was rusty. The Colonel pick and chose his conquests wisely, selecting only the creme of the crop to entertain his whims.

That was Amestris. And it had been well over a couple months since his last one-on-one encounter. With a woman.

With a woman so eccentric as Miss van Winkle.

With a woman that exuded grace, mystique... and couldn't seem any more unpredictable -- not to mention her species simultaneously enthralled and terrified the Flame Alchemist.

Nevertheless, there was something inescapably magnetizing about the cultivated woman that Roy not only could not refuse but persevered.

And it couldn't hurt, could it? They were already so well acquainted in physical terms. Why not meet the lady who'd borrowed his body in person?

The rapping at the door interrupted his musing. One last glance in the mirror to ensure finesse before the gentleman would greet his company.

And for a moment, he lingered in the entrance as if dumbstruck.

Oh Mustang, isn't this an interesting turn of events?

"Stunning. I knew you would be." The dashing (to a fault) Colonel swooped down to bestow a kiss to the vampiress' hand before stepping aside to permit her entrance.

The well-mannered commanding officer fit the formality he potrayed, decked out in a rich, midnight-blue suit ensemble. Ebony hair, the same shade as his tie, slicked back.

The perfect picture of debonair. My, what's the occasion?

Roy Mustang obviously did not do anything halfway or without gusto.

An ungloved hand grazed the small of the woman's back, soundlessly guiding her around the large transmutation circle laid down in the doorway -- a precaution against unwelcome intruders should he care to make use of it in a pinch.

The apartment's motif was otherwise similar to the others with the exception of a more... lavish flavor. Furniture, mostly monochrome, offset by a splash of burgundy every now and then. Deep yet subtle -- a personal favorite of the refined Colonel.

Oh, and don't forget the mini bar the alchemist was rather fond of.

In fact.

"Care for a drink?"

[ripthehunter.livejournal.com]

When the Colonel opened the door and voiced his greeting, a single word popped into Rip's mind.

Typical.

Once again, mind you, not a bad thing in the least.

Oh, but there was some apprehension here. Even Mustang's evidently well-honed suavity momentarily failed to suppress that fact; for the one fraction of a minute he'd spent hesitating in the entryway had been all the proof Rip's nimble vision required.

Of course, there was no reason to let on she knew. Where would the fun be then?

And the considerable damper it would put on her current sense of unspoken power went without saying. Rip loved, craved fear from people, no matter if it was mere nervousness.

...Never mind the man could likely incinerate her if he felt the need to and slipped those gloves of his on. Best for her not to dwell on that possibility.

Upon receiving a prompt kiss to her hand, she briefly met his gaze and remarked in the softest tone she could manage, "You're looking rather well yourself".

With that, she stepped inside the tastefully furnished apartment, happily allowing herself to be gently led by her host.

Utterly demure. It was almost comical.

Rip could not help but glimpse a somewhat odd circle which was conspicuously taking up residence in the Colonel's doorway. More of this alchemy business, perhaps?, she guessed, recalling what that Lieutenant Hughes fellow had informed her of during the messages they'd exchanged not too long ago.

Tonight would be the perfect opportunity to inquire more about it.

A drink, eh? "That depends", Rip told him. "What might you have?"

Never had she been too fond of the stuff, but she was willing to make an exception in this case. And she wasn't going to reveal her general ignorance of alcoholic beverages (At her old age, no less) so long as she could help it.

"Ah, and where shall I put these...?", she added, indicating a small bag she held which contained a few discs worth of opera scores (She decided long ago that the library wouldn't miss them as much as she would).

((OOC: I figured Rip would realize his wariness of her nature somehow, so I used that moment at the door as a way for it to happen. Uh...hope that's okay? *Shouldn't RP while incoherent and tired*))

[pet-my-ego.livejournal.com]

From an outside standpoint, the prim and proper masquerade of theirs might be utterly laughable considering their personalities. Though the Flame Alchemist carried himself with a prestigious air on most days with most people--too well acquainted with ceremonious mannerisms and formal (feigned) sociability--Mustang often tired of the charade he'd donned as routine. He could be caught outside his authoritative countenance, acting as flawed or as normal as any other human being.

But for the evening he was strictly about humoring a more self-indulgent side. If the woman was willing to humor him--hell, even encourage it--then Roy Mustang had found his perfect match for a night of escapism from the all-seeing City.

From his nightmares. From his past. From his future. From his personal tragedies. Escape from everything.

Speaking of those infamous ignition-gloves, Mustang was tugging the right of what was possible pair on one-handed (due to the last experience, he'd be damned before he went unarmed, even in spite of an amusing fear of exposure to flammables) as he flashed a bottle of Absolut.

"I know you're not for it, so I'll mix something worthwhile. How about a Cosmopolitan?" Always with the damn martinis -- one of Roy's lesser-known yet painfully obvious guilty pleasures. Beer is all well and good in the bar scene, but Mustang's pallet cried out for something with a bit more pizzazz. Such a prissy Colonel at times.

Regarding the bag with a gentle upturn of lips, the polished man tossed a nod toward the coffee table. "There is just fine. Actually -- put one of them on." A now-gloved hand gestured lazily to the simple stereo system hooked up across the room. Simple, yes, but the speaker set-up was particularly intricate with sound amplifiers occupying each corner. He was quite the music afficianado.

Yes, Roy Mustang off the clock could be rather interesting.


( You read my mind. :D )

[ripthehunter.livejournal.com]

"Mm...very well! Rather a favorite of yours, is it?"

Her appearance aside, Rip always had felt slightly out of place among her fellow troops due to the near unanimous passion for their beloved Lagerbier.

Ach, he's put one on. She noted the glove. No matter. After all, the Colonel wouldn't find any reason to use them. Honest.

For all of a second, her eyes joyfully lit up with such an intensity that one may have feared they were in danger of spontaneous combustion. The sight of it, unbeknownst to her, was probably a fair bit more amusing than she would have liked.

"Gladly, Colonel," Rip replied, the ever-present lilt in her voice making itself quite obvious as she turned to head in the stereo's direction.

Hm...Tristan und Isolde seemed as fine a choice as any to begin the evening.

((Yay. ♥))