Naila arrived at Signature early, the chill of the summer air causing her to don boots and a comfortably warm coat, but not chilly enough to let her resist finding something tight, blue, snug, and short. She entered the club with a sly smile and messy bangs brushing across her features from a brisk gust of wind that whipped her hair before she entered. But after a few confident strides of her long creamy legs and she combed her hair back with perfectly manicured nails, the half-veela turned eyes to her in an instant.

She was approached, courted, and ambushed with flirtations and musical requests, but the only one she chose to accept was the one the band made when they played their instruments to the tune ofHogwart's Wild Beings song. It didn't have the wild and animalistic style that the band had, but it was wild enough for Naila to shed her coat and to get her onstage for a while, amidst the cheers and yells requesting various school songs before the Wild Beings witch got bored and hot, and trailed off to another part of the club.

The songstress then swiped a vase of flowers, resembling an umbrella or upside down roulette wheel, as she strut into the restaurant to sit the abominable bouquet on a cozy table, ambushed by couches. She then proceeded to charm a waiter,  a waitress, and a bartender off from their shift. At the end of Naila's flurry of whimsy, there was a large bowl sitting on the middle of the table, the flowers she kidnapped were neatly sitting in her lap, the water from the vase was dumped into the large bowl, the vase was upside-down and pirouetting on the surface of the water, and the rim of the vase was lined with shot glasses filled with various colors of alcohol, surrounded by Naila and her makeshift mischievous company.

Naila was leaning back on the couch, once again wearing her coat (due to the chill of the temperature-controlled club relieving her of all warmth she gained from her earlier nonsense), with her blonde hair spiraling down around her neck and over her shoulders, sprawled back against the couch with one outstretched arm, as the other poised the tip of her wand against her lips.

With a rosy peach pout, the witch was completely focused on the roulette-shot-pond on the table, but her arching brows and contemplative stare left one to wonder what she was actually going to do with it. (So did she.) Bu then that's when her date finally arrived.

Naila shot a bright white smile at Darian as she leaned forward, grabbing the bouqouet off of her lap, as she stood to kiss the red-head's cheeks "Oh forgive me, dear--I've been rather impatient lately," then she leaned and proudly and playfully offered him the flowers, "but I got you flowers."

Now that she was animated, Naila oozed with energy, smiling as she turned to wave her hands at the ridiculousness that was table "I was trying to figure out whether it was a good idea to take shots with bluebell flames or to a hint of static shot, or maybe something else." Her eyes settled on the table once more as her wand returned to her lips, and her voice lazily purred,  "Decisions."

"Naila, what a pleasure!" Darian called in kind, angling his way through the other tables like a slinky pink cat. His hair was a riot of silken curls and his attire was blinding; he was fashionably late and unashamed, eager to see what Naila had done to entertain himself before he arrived. She was always such fun. He beamed as he strode forwards, hands going out to catch her by the hips as she leaned in. She kissed his cheek and he turned his head, catching her lips in his favorite kind of hello. He kissed her in the way that all of the men and some of the women in the restaurant wished they could do, which was to say deeply, unself-consciously, and with great enjoyment. "What a set-up!" he said when they broke apart, his gaze moving over Naila's alcoholic tableau. "Looks like I got here just in time."

Indeed he must have, for she hadn't yet started to drink. Waiting for him no doubt, the dear.

His red mouth curved in laughter when she whirled back to him with flowers, and he accepted them graciously. "Lovely," he said as he fingered the silky petals, but he wasn't looking at the flowers - he was looking at her. It was a warm gaze, fraught with promise, but more importantly it was not the charm-addled glaze that many men developed around the infamous half-Veela singer. Darian did not do charm-addled, partially because he'd built an immunity and mostly because he was too vain to ever really love anyone but himself.

"Mmm, you have such options, really you do. The shock's so pleasant, I think. Tingly. Maybe try..." With a snap of his wand the glasses began to vibrate, emitting a smooth hum as their contents bubbled and glowed. So pretty, like lanterns all in a row, but if his date didn't like it he could wipe them out again. "Why not layer a few? Experimentation is the key to delight, Nai~la."

Naila always enjoyed a very  involved kiss with Darian Morgan; he had a gorgeous face and a great technique. Even though she wasn't quite prepared for it, she indulged in the lip-lock, before matching him with her stolen flowers and all too cheeky and casual smile.

What came next was thet vivacious vanity that both the half-veela and red head shared: A dangerous and catastrophic combination when Naila and Darian were thrown into a room together--like they currently were as Naila raised a hand to her cheek and tapped a finger against her lips as she purred a "Hmn," at her hot pink companion's suggestion. She artfully bent a knee and leaned on one hip as she eyed the display of shots in her bright blue dress like a stone statue.

Finally, she moved, as a lock of blonde hair fell over a blue eye as she beamed at Darian, "Oh you're a devilish artist, as always," she vooed, "Now..." Naila pressed her hand against Darian's shoulder blade as she slipped her hand onto his collar and shifted her weight onto his shoulder. She then raised her wand at the glass vase as her voice took on predatory whisper, "Why not give it a mind of its own," she waved her wands and said a few words, utilizing the concepts of the advanced charmwork once learned at Beauxbatons, which seemed to bring the topsy-turvy vase too life as it spun in one direction and then slowly jerked into the other with a quirky personality, "So that we can discover something clever spelled out on the bottom of a glass after each drink?" The witch turned her questionable half-veiled blue-eyed stare towards Darian.

Darian watched as she leaned into him and then cast, the vase sliding one way and then another with a life all its own. His eyes fell half-shut, and he let out a sigh of pure pleasure.

"Can a vase be as clever as the witch who spelled it?" he murmured, his lips brushing Naila's blonde curls when he leaned in. But it was a query matched almost instantly by his dazzling smile as he continued: "I'm willing to find out." And with a laugh and a skip he'd swept her up and deposited her in the seat, sliding in right next to her all cozy and nice. Their fellow restaurant-attendees watched, scandalized or possibly delighted, how was he to know, but he soaked up the attention either way. Why would he sit across from her like any other of the couples here tonight when he could sit sweetly beside her instead? They made a pretty pairing, both so colorful and bright, and now they could lean into each other while they drank. One half-Veela, one debauched designer, and both semi-celebrities in their own right. What about tonight was there not to celebrate! If Darian had his way they'd both have to be carried out at the end of the evening - or perhaps they'd leave themselves enough sense to stagger. It was more fun when he might have something to look forward to later, and he did not think Naila was adverse.

"Well, Naila? What do the drinks have to say to you?"

Naila could barely take a moment to consider his question before he answered it on his own and her into his arms. She gave an airy laugh as Darian deposited her on the couch and then deposited himself next to her. The half-veela always thought of him as such a good date by spoiling her so, but also such a show-off--but one could not expect anything less than a showy and fashionable attitude from the well-accomplished Morgan.

She narrowed her blue eyes with a devilish smile and playfully put a hand on his chest and pushed him away for a moment, before he made himself comfortable as she began to get ready to pick up a drink. Beneath her hovering hand the vase spun one way, then the other, before Naila finally snatched up a glass and poured its contents down her throat, just as quickly.

Her lips pursed and then rolled together with a static fizz before she popped them apart. She dabbed and drew a finger on her lips, "Tingly," she cast a sly smile at Darian before she delicately admired the bottom of her glass. "Ooh," an eyebrow arched as she shamelessly stared at the ceiling and said:

"No shoes no shirt no service, but your lack of clothes will note no observers." And with that she crossed her legs in a daring fashion, barely revealing nothing as she put the glass back on the tray, and cast a smug look around the table, before her gaze landed back on her date, "I think it's being a tease..."

"It's not the only one," he breathed, flicking a pointed stare down to her legs and back again. Darian arched an eyebrow reproachfully. "Sharing is caring, don't you know?" His tone was teasing, tempered with laughter. A little light flirtation was both their bread and butter - good new for him. He'd been slapped for less.

With a flourish he picked his own drink, demonstrating it first to Naila and then to the rest of the room with all the dramatic gravitas of a game show host. Then he threw his head back, baring long white throat against fiery curls in a picture so pretty it could only be as calculated as the quiver of his lashes, that little flicker of tongue. It sparked all the way down. If he was any less practiced, it might've drawn a moan from his throat. Strong, wasn't it?

He examined the bottom of his glass with great interest before a grin curled the corners of his mouth. He turned the glass towards her wordlessly. "Ditto," it read. Darian laughed and laughed.

"I'll chose another," he apologized, though his own sin was well hidden (better than Naila's) and he did not usually play fair. Perhaps he was being a gentleman for nothing; perhaps her half-Veela nature left her less disposed to drunkenness, not more. He pondered it as he chose a glass at random. She'd been light in his arms, but certainly not hollow.

This drink was consumed with as much flair as the last. Darian peered into its depths, pressing two fingers to his tingling lips. "Pink doesn't suit you," it read. He winced. "Harsh."

With a delicate huff and her fingertips pressed against her chest, Naila parted her lips into a soft pout before she bowed her chin with feigned disapproval, "But Darian, you know I'm picky," then the other company surrounding the shot dish got her attention, as the witch's sly cerulean gaze traveled over them with an effortless wink that was quickly replaced by one of her slim hands, brushing strawberry blonde strands of hair from her face.

Once Darian took his drink Naila gave a fleeting pout, "What a lazy drink, but--" she sighed and with a smile added, "Piorità[1] of Veelas, always knew you had some in you darling." With his next glass the half-veela offered a hum of pity for her date. She wasn't too terribly hug up on apperances, as long as it didn't get in the way of her having fun with others, but Darian was a slave to fashion and vanity, sometimes those two things tended to clash, "Sometimes to be loud and proud, sacrifices need to be made."

Naila reached over and spun the dish again and gestured the raven-haired bartender girl pick a glass. The witch smoothed out her own short skirt and hesitantly hovered over the dish before she finally snatched up a glass, stared at it, and then gulped it down. After the initial warmth and shock of the drink wore off she looked at the bottom of the glass with hard scrutiny,  "Take a lesson in intimacy..." the girl said with creeping suspicion.

There was a light evanescent smile that played on the Naila's lips before it vanished as the witch coo-ed with a sympathetic purr and scooted towards the girl,  "Oooh.. Everyone has been in that boat once,"  Naila let a hand gently fall against the girl's shoulder, as she gestured her other hand away from her " but sometimes we just need to be steered in the right direction, or get a little guidance," eyebrows arched and a small returned to Naila's lips as she cast a mischievous gaze towards Darian.

1.	priorities

"Pick me," he suggested, with a why not? grin. They were far past subtle. They'd been here less than a half hour and already he knew what she wasn't wearing.

Then he nodded like the brave fashion soldier he was and gave a heartfelt sigh. Pink on redheads was a notoriously controversial issue, but he was all about bucking convention. Half the designers he knew would slap him in the face for this faux pas - the other half on the back. Fashion was so fickle.

Personally, Darian just liked to stand out.

He watched Naila's little game with great interest, the way she crooned and curled into the server. It wasn't as though he'd never charmed one before, but he hadn't actual Veela charm and so depended largely on trickery, deceit, and his dashing good looks. He hadn't the benefit of magic. (Except for his special cologne, but he didn't really count that. He'd left it on his dresser after the last time he worn it and been literally mobbed. While in some ways very exciting, catching the attention of an entire street meant he'd had cobblestone-shaped bruises for days.) "Does that make you the teacher?" he purred, casting his eyes from Naila to the server and back again. He sucked down another shot like another would munch on popcorn, barely casting a negligible glance to the bottom of the glass in lieu of the unfolding scene. Something about sweet transvestites and a transit beam. Ordinarily Darian would be riveted but, as Naila said, piorità.

Of course, a veela charm alone truly had no potency or lasting effects. Sure, you could seduce a sailor at sea or lure someone into the darkest and most dangerous of forests--but there were those who got their wits about them rather quickly, even moreso in public. So a girl like Naila often needed more than just magic to have her charm... noticeably affect others--and that's usually where the fun lie. Catching those who were hard to rob of their common sense--otherwise it was never worth it.

Naila puckered her lips together and hummed at Darian with a slightly disapproving arch to her eyebrows, "That would depend dear,"  her voice was scratched with a faint husk as her eyes narrowed and a white smile touched her lips,  "if you're involved love, I'd prefer a whip," and that did it; Naila caught the red hue brushing the girls cheeks from the corner of her wavy blonde bangs. She withdrew her hands from the girl's shoulder and then gave a disappointed sigh, mostly at herself as she tapped the girl on the cheek.

"He just likes to give you something to think about," she said with a playful smile. Naila laid it on thick, but she loved playing games as well, always keeping others guessing, It made other's reactions seem so much  more real. While amusing, it was mostly a defense mechanism for Naila--because of the downside of her fame and of her magical charm, "Oh, but we should move on shouldn't we?"

Naila waved her wand and the shot dish began spinning again as her gaze meticulously looked around the table, "Who shall be the next victim?"