Arianne strolled through the doors of Izola's shop with a determined look on her face, walking right up to her most dear friend and leaning forward to kiss her cheek and lingering to watch her face curiously for just a moment. Her hand darted forward and pushed a lock of the woman's superb hair at the back of her shoulders and Aria smiled fondly at Izola for reasons unknown. She turned around and sat down in one of the waiting chairs, unbuttoning her coat to reveal a bright red dress, tailored indecently tight around her body. "Get dressed , chérie, we're going out" she said distractedly, while removing her leather gloves and placing them in her lap. "Oh, and put on a mask" she added with a knowing smirk.

--
Seated at the bar of Le Masque, Aria shook her head to let her hair fall down her back and turned towards the bartender to give him a radiant smile. "Bonsoir, Blaise" she greeted the mixologist fondly. "The usual for me and—" she stopped, with a thoughtful pause, concentration written all over her face "an Aquamarine Martini." She swung her left foot over her right, the stool rotating to face Izola, and she raised an inquiring brow. "Well?" Arianne asked expectantly, knowing Izola surely guessed what she was referring to, but just for the satisfaction of saying it out loud, she added "However did your redezvous go, darling?"

She heard the shuffle of the glasses being pushed across the bar in front of their respective owners, and without even turning to glance at it, Arianne extended her hand, feeling for the glass and taking it quickly to her lips. There was nothing quite like the White Russian Éloi's head bartender made. She sighed around the rim of the glass pressed against her lips and waited patiently for a surely intriguing story. Aria was anxious to share her own Valentine's experience, but she was much more interested in hearing about Izola's adventures in the world of speed-dating. How terrible it all sounded...

There was nobody who she would rather see after a long day than the beautiful Arianne, who in addition to always looking divine was such fun to talk to. And after the weekend she’d had, which, in addition to trying to work her way through the quagmire of accounts, had featured a ruined dress and a distinct lack of anything to make up for the tedious time she’d had.

With Arianne came the promise of alcohol and gossip, a chance to whine about the frustration of her evening to a sympathetic ear, as much as one could be sympathetic about such an event, and not somebody who would instead smirk before making comments that were needlessly rude. It was a promise that gave the flagging hairdresser the energy needed to finish the day’s work with alacrity before changing into an outfit she had been saving for a visit to Le Masque. Properly attired, she returned to Arianne, smiling brilliantly as she offered her arm.

[...]

An eyebrow, arched as she waited for Arianne’s verdict on her drink, dropped, replaced by a smile – the drink was just the thing, and she was pleased that the other woman knew her tastes well enough to pick it. At the question, however, although her expression didn’t quite lose the hint of humour – there was always a certain joy to telling a story, to entertaining, no matter how embarrassing the story itself might be – she let out a groan, only partly theatrical. “Darling,” she whined pitifully, “He was a student, at the American school – not Rick’s, Salem. Here for the tournament, obviously, so at least he wasn't twelve, but still. I thought it was a joke at first.” As she spoke, her voice lilted, exaggerated emphasis placed on words.

Picking up her glass, she took a moment to appreciate how lovely it looked, all blue and refreshing and so very capable of easing the sorrows caused by going on a date, no matter how brief or unintended, with a student. Even a pretty one. Taking a sip, she smiled in satisfaction before taking another, larger this time. “Never again,” she swore, “Will I ever be in a situation where such an outcome is so much as a possibility."

"Oh, my—a student, hmm?" she asked with a sympathetic sigh. "American too?" she continued almost scandalized, one arm dashing forward to settle her hand and Izola's. "Chérie, that's just awful" she said teasingly with a smirk. "Shame it wasn't one of my boys, at least they would've been pleasant company... if nothing else" she mused, raising her glass to her lips, smiling impishly behind the rim of the glass. Professor or not, the Beauxbatons students would still be her own for ages to come.

She raised her glass to Izola, tilting her head in acknowledgement to her own promise to herself. "To no such further encounters" she offered, arching both eyebrows for a second, before taking a sip herself. "But surely, he must've at least been a sight for the eyes if no titillating conversation was involved?" She batted her eyelashes almost innocently before chucking softly. "You know... my dear cousin would think your overview on this little tête-à-tête absolutely blasphemous. A young, dashing American, and here you are dreading the thought..." she rolled her eyes, then titled her head, smiling genially. She raised her glass to the monumental mirror situated on the wall behind the bar and winked. Surely, Éloi was choking on his own frustrations by now.

"What about our own darling Rick? A little birdie informed me of some rather—ah, interesting proceedings" she asked slyly with a positively radiating grin. If someone managed to truly catch his interest, she must be meeting the young man immediately.

For all of her faults, Izola wasn’t stupid, she could tell that Arianne wanted to laugh at the predicament she’d found herself in and she was relieved that the other woman was gracious enough not to. “Ugh, no darling, he was nice to me. Far more polite than some of my customers.” It was funny how some people thought that just because they were paying her, at a most reasonable rate, they were entitled to be rude to her. But unlike some people, she knew that customer service was important and reigned in her distaste. Mostly.

Lifting her glass in response, fingers curled around the bowl and watching Arianne over the rim of it, smiling in acknowledgement of the appropriate toast. It was certainly something she could, and would, drink to. Rolling her eyes a little, she realised that Arianne was entirely correct about what Eloi would think, but then he was so much younger than her, although she thought that even he might balk at the thought of going on a date with a student. Well, possibly when he was as old as she was, because he wouldn't now, and wasn’t that a ghastly thought, best to drink and forget is as quickly as possible. “No doubt,” she agreed, “I would have traded places with him gladly if it was possible. Although maybe he would think twice if it was a student.” Then again, maybe not.

At the mention of the other American, she couldn’t stifle a roll of her eyes. “He’s such a lucky git,” she moaned, even more unhappy than she had been a moment ago – although there was a glint to her eyes that didn’t bode at all well for the man they were discussing, because hugely unfair as the situation had been, it had provided her with information that Rick would have tried to weasel out of giving her.

Silly of him, she would find out what she wanted eventually, and trying to avoid it just made the experience more painful for him.

Straightening in her seat, refreshed by the knowledge that they were moving onto something that wasn’t embarrassing for her to discuss, Izola’s smile held promise. “His partner was gorgeous. And not jail bait,” she added reflectively, smile dimming for a moment before recovering. “He was leering at the poor man, but it would have been difficult not to.”

"Darling, some of your customers deserve a haircut with a chainsaw. Below the neck" she chucked at her friend with a raised eyebrow. Honestly, she didn't know how dear Izola did it... If she were her, she'd probably hex five out of ten. And be out of business in a week. Then again, no Desrosiers never quite knew what it meant to really work to make a living.

Arianne laughed softly at Izola, eyebrows quirked in question as if to say do you really think so? Perhaps she didn't know her cousin as well as she dd, but she certainly knew Izola was intelligent enough to realize that Éloi really had no scruples, despite the charming, utterly winning facade he could sometimes pull.

"Oh?" she mouthed around the rim of her glass, hearing Izola calling Rick a git. That said everything there was to say, right there. She huffed softly. "Not jail bait?" she asked intrigued. "Funny, I heard differently. At least in looks" she smirked deviously. What she heard, actually, was only Éloi's account of the man and to say it had been highly appreciative, was a positively atrocious understatement. However, Aria had her doubts—especially if he had been the creator of the muses and those other ridiculous statues of Le Masque. Beautiful, yes, but by Morgana, the most irritating personalities. Sort of like her cousin, she supposed. Ah, well, looking at it like this...

"Well, seeing it all went so well, I expect an introduction soon enough. I think it's only fair we see for ourselves what all the fuss is about, no?" she smiled to her friend with an expression that certainly said she was up to no good. "Besides, isn't there some unspoken rule that demands that we, as Rick's friends, should veto on the young man?" she asked in all seriousness.

Lowering her gaze to her drink she frowned, shaking the contents of the glass absentmindedly. "I wonder how he feels about glitter" she almost hummed.

Izola beamed at the observation, glad that someone understood her suffering. Of course, she did her best to dump them on the other workers, but she was still occasionally forced to look after tedious people, and that meant at least an hour of slow death.

She frowned for a moment, shaking her head. “If he had been, we would have been on even footing,” she pointed out, although really her footing would have been more precarious and far more fashionable than whatever sad shoes Rick had decided to wear. “He did look young,” she agreed, “a little like Bambi, gangly limbs and beautiful eyes.” She sounded almost wistful, but the memory was a distant one, and all it took was a quick shake of her head, ostensibly to get her hair in order, and it was gone again.

Arianne, as always, was right – and there was no way that Izola would pass up on the opportunity to try and dredge up more information to embarrass Rick with. Sadly, he had improved at withholding information, but Bambi had no experience and so would be much easier to trick. “Probably,” she agreed, “at any rate, we’re obliged to make bloody threats.”

Or glittery ones. Izola could go with those too. In fact, glitter was better because it was generally not illegal. Because glitter, no matter what some people claimed, was fabulous. “Oooh, yes darling. I haven’t had an excuse in ages.” Her gleeful tone did not bode well for the intended victim.

“We have to wait for confirmation that they are following through, though,” she sighed, disgusted at herself for being in any way reasonable about this. “How is darling Eloi? As delightfully unattached as ever?” Far be it for her to criticise others for enjoying life to the fullest, but Izola was at heart a romantic, convinced that love was the answer to most earthly woes, and as such felt it her sworn duty to interfere as much as possible in the romantic attachments of all of her nearest ‘n’ dearest.

Having said that, if both Eloi and Rick were committing to relationships, there was something seriously wrong with the world. Best to drink her drink and forget about it, so Izola did just that. “It’s so sad. At this rate, I’m going to become a reptile lady.” Only marginally better than being a cat lady, a concept so repulsive Izola shivered.

"Bambi?" she asked, narrowing her eyes a little. She raised a skeptical eyebrow and hummed wistfully. Gangly limbs wasn't exactly something Arianne found attractive, as for beautiful eyes... "As much as it hurts me to say it, I'm rather certain there's few people that surpass Rick in terms of beauty of the eyes" she almost snorted, and took a healthy gulp of her glass. It was one of the first things that Aria actually noticed about him. One couldn't help but just be in a little bit of awe when staring right at them. The bloody bastard.

"Hmm, yes, threats" she resisted the urge to cackle. It really wasn't attractive in a lady, but it was so satisfying. "I think the fact that he's actually interested is confirmation enough, when is Rick ever truly interested?" she rolled her eyes and sighed long. "But after confirmation... I'm sure getting the boy's home address won't be a problem, so could we please pay his closet a visit, with glitter in hand?" she batted her eyelashes innocently at Izola and let out a soft laugh. She eyes her empty glass with a huff, and gestured for Blaise to refill, which he promptly set to.

"The day when my cousin actually attaches himself or—gets attached to someone for longer than a few hours at a time, is the day we should all prepare our last will and testament, because surely the end will be nigh" she said with an over dramatic flair to her voice, smirking microscopically towards the mirror behind the bar. He was certainly huffing and puffing by now.

Aria turned to watch Izola as her words left her mouth with a curious expression. She watched her intently for a few seconds, eyes raking over her as the corners of her lips turned upwards and her eyes closed just a fraction. "Reptile lady... hmmm?" she mused, quirking her eyebrow. "Well if you need to leech on some body heat, I'm sure between us two we'll figure something out, darling" she drawled with a little smile.

“Oh, a character – a baby deer, tragically adorable. That sort of thing.” Her hand waved dismissively, but really, there was nothing dismissive about being compared to Bambi. It meant that you were adorable and full of potential – not words Izola would want applied to herself, but still. She nodded in agreement to the comment on Rick’s eyes, because they were really very pretty. Rick, in general, was offensively attractive.

Ugh. Izola regretted her life choices so much right now – apart from the martini, that was good, and she took a drink of it. She frowned at the suggestion, not entirely sure that breaking into someone’s house was the best idea, although glitter-ifying his closet would be fun. It always was.

She smirked at the judgement of Eloi, “I don’t even want to imagine who he might consider worthy of permanent affection,” she confessed, “I mean – they would be devastatingly gorgeous, of course, but beyond that my mind fails me completely.” It wasn’t entirely true, but what she was coming up with was a lot of leather and a terrible, horrible grin. Or something, the less Izola thought about it, the happier she would be, safe from traumatic thoughts.

Izola’s head turned quickly, more quickly than she would have liked, but she still managed to muster a confident smile. This, she could most definitely do, especially if she didn’t have to hear anything about how pretty Rick’s eyes were. “You’re so generous, darling,” she murmured, “what would you want in return?”

There were several things that Izola would be all too happy to give Arianne, were she to ask for them. It was a little worrying, but no matter – if anything, it was better that it were Arianne than someone else. “A massage?” she suggested, smile edging into a smirk, although Arianne wouldn’t have to, ah, share body heat in order to get one, although the suggestion did make her more amenable.

"So does mine" Arianne said softly, curiously serious and perhaps with a tinge of dread. She was sure whomever would manage to tame her cousin would be a terrible force of nature and Aria didn't really know if she'd like to be there when this particular taming of the shrew would take place. She was positive there would be a lot of violence, not necessarily physical, although, with Éloi... you never knew. But more in the psychological sense. She really did not want to ponder on that, however. Her dear cousin still had a lot of growing up to do.

"Oh, I don't know, dear..." she drawled cryptically, with a small, private smirk. "I'm open for negotiation" she added with a teasing little chuckle. Her lips parted in pleased surprise as darling Izola offered a massage. She lowered her eyelashes for a fraction and watched her almost hungrily, thinking of the witch's perfect long fingers kneading her skin and she hummed softly at the back of her throat. "That sounds... satisfactory" Aria said with a teasing glint in her eyes.

"Well, now you know you can always come to me if you ever find your blood running too cold" she sad suddenly serious, amused little smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Although–" she paused emphatically, smiling a little more widely, tip of her tongue caught between her teeth "the temperature of your blood is certainly not a requirement, if you'd like some body heat."

"Blaise" she called louder, gesturing for the mixologist. "I think a refill is in order, unless–" she turned to smirk at Izola. "Would you be interested in helping Blaise out with a little feedback? He has a new creation that makes use of just the right amounts of ginseng, pomegranates and chocolate liquor" she offered with an arched eyebrow, chuckling softly as all ingredients were known for a particular effect.

Izola’s smile didn’t waver, but – was the offer a standing offer for gratification, or something more serious? She would be happy with either, and the latter did seem less likely given that it was Arianne who was asking. The best course of action, for her purposes, would be to wait and see what happened.

And then do her best to convince Arianne that the more they saw of each other, the better, of course, but she didn’t think that part would be too difficult – not if a massage would be satisfactory. She certainly intended to give the other woman some satisfaction, and she would see if she could get a little higher than satisfactory. After all, being damned with faint praise was almost as bad as being outright criticised, and it was certainly more cutting in some ways.

But a promise was still a promise, and Arianne’s was most appreciated by the witch, who found that she was leaning in fractionally more now. But there was no reason to lean back, as long as Arianne didn’t suggest it.

“So my alcoholism is helping others now?” Izola asked, sceptical, yet amused by the notion, “please, lead the way. Any excuse.” There was a pause, before the listed ingredients’ effect, their common effect, sunk in, and her already wide smile grew larger, now filled with confidence – not that she had been lacking it before, but encouragement was just so… self-assuring. In the best possible way.

“And of course, I have exquisite taste,” she added, the object of her gaze making it clear the comment was a compliment – and a well-deserved one. Arianne was exquisite, there was no other word for it. The thought heavy in her mind, she reached forward without thinking, her fingers made less nimble by drink still managing to only brush against the skin of Arianne’s wrist, “will you be partaking?”

Aria noticed the way Izola seemed to be leaning in, even if fractionally. She couldn't suppress a small little smile, arching her eyebrow invitingly at her. "Darling, I don't know what you could possibly mean by alcoholism.  The doctor does recommend a night cap... Let this be ours. And we couldn't possibly do anything in half-measures..." she replied, a hand over her chest and a little chuckle escaping past her lips. "That would be beneath us" she flipped her hair to the back, with a most serious expression.

"But yes, Blaise would be most grateful? Wouldn't you, Blaise" she asked turning to smile at the bartender who in turn raised his eyebrows, chuckling softly under his breath and shook his head minutely. As the American prepared their mystery drinks, Aria turned her head to eye Izola with a curious, yet guarded expression. "You most certainly do" she said softly, musing even, following the planes of her beautiful friend's face with her eyes, settling on her mouth for just a little longer than what could pass for polite.

Without tearing her eyes from Izola, Arianne smiled dangerously, eyes raking over the brunette's form, lips drawing in a little smile as the woman's  fingers brushed her wrist. "Oh, I most certainly be partaking" she said seriously, ending on a playful chuckle. She turned her head slowly towards the bar, grabbed the two colorful shot glasses and placed one in Izola's hand, while keeping the other for herself. Leaning in dangerously close, she intertwined her arm with Izola's, lifting the glass to her lips.

"Santé, chère amie" she toasted with a warm smile, pouring the contents of the little glass down her throat. When that was doe, she unhooked her arm from around Izola's to put the glass back on the bar, thanking Blaise with a nod of her head. She felt her cheeks flush from the cocktail and she grinned a little. "My, my, seems to have gotten a little warm in here. Now how will I ever get your proximity?" she asked dramatically, with an arch of her left eyebrow.