The Ramora Club, 7:20pm

Nona was technically off the clock, but this particular connection kept strange hours and that meant meeting him was more of an event than the usual shopkeepers she had to check in with and beg jobs off of. The Ramora club required a certain amount of fineness and a wardrobe change. It was not, despite what some might have thought, because she had any particular feeling about Lyndon Harper. He was handsome, charming, and had more money than Merlin seemingly but this was not a social call. Sure she might have put on her best little black dress and carefully styled her ginger curls, and she might have spent more time on eyeliner sharp enough to cut a witch but it was all about keeping with the clubs image and absolutely not because she was waiting for the brooding Harper to notice she was not just a tiny werewolf caseworker, who happened to be related to Balfour Spectre.

Nope. Not even a little.

She didn't know who she was trying to fool but it was probably just herself in the long run. She had to have a certain sort of fondness for him because he took excellent care of the werewolves she introduced him to. Or rather, in a less condescending thought pattern, he'd never made it hard for him to bring a new case. There were people who literally ducked into back rooms to avoid her. While Lyndon was not the sort to express genuine emotion or excitement he'd always seemed happy enough to see her when she turned up looking for a job to fill. He'd pour her  drink (from the top shelf) and they'd talk about what she needed and eventually wander into the grass off topic from work. She and Balfour never talked about her trips to Knockturn and the Ramora but she knew he didn't approve. She wasn't sure if it was because of the club itself or Lyndon but it hadn't stopped her so far.

Handing her coat off at the check she smiled at the shimmering blonde behind the counter and began her journey to Lyndon's usual table toward the back. He held court like a haughty prince, judging the place from on high, making sure that everything stayed on target. It reminded her of a film she'd seen once with a muggleborn she was sort of dating, The Godfather. She hadn't really been paying attention to the plot, there was a lot of kissing happening at the time, but there was an aesthetic similarity to the smokey round table and low lights.  The scent of various cigars was heavy but not all together unpleasant as she wound her way through a few patrons and still empty tables. It was pretty early for Lyndon, but he was easy enough to spot, sipping on a smoking tumbler of firewhiskey. A small smile twitched on her lips as she paused by his shoulder, "Starting without me Harper? That's a bit rude, isn't it?"

Lyndon Harper had always been a creature of the night, but now waking up after the sun set was a necessary part of his life. Club Ramora didn't open it's doors until seven, and didn't close them again until the wee hours of the morning, and the proud owner rarely slept through any night when the club was open. It was his pride and joy, and as such he seemed to haunt the place, seemingly ever present in every corner of the building, though still somehow flighty in his very nature.

Tonight of course, was no exception to the rule of waking up exceptionally late in the day. He woke up at just gone five in the afternoon, laying on his back and staring at the ceiling for a good half an hour before dragging his tired bones out from under the covers to start his usual evening routine. It was rare that he woke up alone. Even more rare that he woke up smiling. Even rarer still that he felt brave enough to skip the habit of standing in front of his mirror and picking at the imagined imperfections that plagued him when the thirsty gazes of others weren't enough to put the nasty whispers in his head to sleep.

But without the half an hour of self assassination, Lyndon found himself mostly dressed before six thirty rolled around. It hadn't taken long to pick from the vast array of suits - many of which were shades of black that seemingly only Lyndon could differentiate between. After a short deliberation, he chose a suit that would have appeared to most as 'simply black'. He opted to forgo the usual tie and cufflink combination because tonight was the night that followed the St Patrick's day events, and the turnout was expected to be.... low, so there seemed to be no particular cause for dressing up.

Breakfast came in the form of a tall black coffee and a single slice of plain, barely toasted toast that was already waiting for him in the hands of a particularly bouncy faun as he stepped out of his quarters. She was always ready with breakfast. Always on about how it was the most important part of the day. Always far too bubbly for Lyndon to handle first thing in his 'morning'. Yet he smiled politely at her none the less as he took the plate and the mug from her hand and walked down the hall with them on his way to his office on the middle floor, where the residences of Club Ramora were already beginning to buzz over tonight's costume choices and setlists.

There was no new paperwork waiting for him that night. Nothing with a red stamp or 'urgent' plastered across the top of it. So rather than waste his time there, surrounded by boring magnolia coloured walls and being pestered by the veela he employed at his personal assistant, he made a beeline for the ground floor. The plate had long since been left behind, but the mug was still in his hand until the moment he was half way across the main seating area, where it too was discarded on the nearest available flat surface.

The next twenty or so minutes were spent watching with an eagle eye as staff seemed to spill out onto the floor, taking up their usual positions behind the bar, on the stage and around the corners of the room whilst the doormen began to let the first few eager beavers through the door.

It was hardly seven thirty by the time Lyndon had his first drink of the night in his hand. He had barely been awake two hours, and the first sip hit the back of his throat and made his face crumple into a rough frown as he made his way to his corner booth and settled into his usual perch their, leaning back into the smooth fabric and crossing his legs at the knee as though settling in for the night.

It made his heart sing to watch the place run with such smooth precision, but the feeling was almost cut short by the cooing in his ear... almost. Had it been anyone other than Nona Spectre stood over him, he might have had a biting remark already in the chamber, but for Nona, he simply took a moment to slowly turn his head. Eyeing her with deliberate obviousness as he set the tumbler down on the dark wood table infront of him. "My apologies Ms Spectre, I must have missed your name on the VIP list this evening..." In all honesty, he hadn't set his eyes on the VIP list full stop, and there was no doubt in his mind that Nona Spectre wouldn't have needed to be on it at all in order to cause a stir - after all half the staff here owed their jobs to the woman.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" He asked as he stood up and made an arm movement as though to usher the woman into the booth seat next to him. She was much shorter, despite the killer heels, but if anything the change in angle simply gave Lyndon a better vantage point at which to admire the effort that she would no doubt have denied putting in on his behalf. "I do hope you're not here under the pretence of talking business again, Nona, I think you owe me enough... favours... as it is." he said, letting the words practically drip from his grinning mouth as he regained his seat, turning his blue eyes to the growing crowd at the doorway that Nona had clearly by-passed to get in so quickly.

Nona sort of basked in his gaze, not quite preening but pretty damn close. She knew all this came at a cost, she knew each time she stepped into that gaze she was selling a little bit of her soul. She also knew that there were people who depended on her to do just that. Lyndon would never want it to seem like he cared about the plight of anyone but she also wasn't completely fooled by his 'this is not altruistic in any shape or form' mantra. He cared more than he let on, she didn't point this out for obvious reasons but it was something she felt down in her bones. She wasn't as gullible as certain people liked to believe and while there was a growing list of places willing to hire and work with werewolves, it was a short list. There were other things to consider, and in some cases Lyndon just seemed like a better fit than even Margo or Rick. The particular young wolf she was there about needed a certain kind of looking after that Lyndon Harper could be counted on to provide.

She cast her eyes down as she slid into the booth, brushing against him ever so slightly as she did, lips twitching with a vague sort of amusement before her features softened to innocence  hazel eyes focused on his face as he rejoined her, "Where on this dress do you suppose I could carry a case file? Honestly Lyndon, do you have so little faith in me?" Of course he did, because they both knew the score. Whatever underlying personal feelings or attractions she might have had for him they came second to her desire to do her job and do it well - like most things in her life now. Isn't that what had happened with G? She'd been too caught up in work and now he was seeing someone else. She wasn't even particularly sad about it, mostly in a wistful 'what might have been' sort of afterthought occasionally when she drank too much and happened to be alone.

Tonight, however, she was not alone and she figured she might as well enjoy Lyndon's attention while she had it, though he seemed to be splitting his gaze between her dress and the growing mass of people at the door. Within a matter of moments a fresh drink was sitting in front of her, something sweet and fruity. She smiled at the waitress and didn't bother to mention she was really more of a whiskey girl. Instead she sipped the fizzing fuchsia concoction and turned her slender frame toward Lyndon as she pulled her hair over one shoulder, "No favors but I do have a bit of a business venture to offer you." It was all about the pitch really, framing the favor in a way that seemed most beneficial to him. He liked the pretext that everything was a business transaction. In some ways it made him easier to deal with, less in others.

With one arm draped along the back of the both, her other hand rested atop his, "Have you thought of expanding the Ramora? In the sense of upgrading the kitchen, I mean beyond the tapas-esque menu you have going now?" She didn't actually wait for him to answer as she inched a little closer, knee brushing his, "I have a case, the sort of case that needs your special finesse." Complimenting him couldn't hurt, she needed him on her side after all, "she's still new, only two transformations in. She's not..." her voice trailed off as she shook her head, "she's not adjusting, which I realize makes this a little more difficult," fingers crept up his arm playfully, "but I happen to know that she's a classically trained chef who, prior to her attack was on the cutting edge of Magical Cuisine and up for a Wireless program. She has a lot to offer, under the right influence and care," she pursed her lips to one side, "She's a special case Lyn, I can't put her to anyone else. I need you."

it would have been easy to take a man like lyndon harper at face value. it would have been easy to lap up the persona that he threw out for the world to see, and to believe that he didn't care about anyone but himself. that to him people and creatures alike were merely toys to be played with until he grew bored of them. after all, had a lifetime of poor choices and cruel actions not proven as much? was the string of lovers and destitute business partners left in his wake not enough to prove that lyndon harper was a selfish human being who's sole devotion in life was... himself? perhaps it would have been before club ramora - where the residents of the club were treated far too kindly to be merely play things for lyndon's own amusement.

but, thankfully perhaps, there were a chosen few that knew better than to believe that harper was simply out to please himself.

to date there had only been five that had truly manage it. a select handful of unique individuals who had somehow be gifted with the ability to cut through the bullshit persona, and peek at the  inner workings of the man. and every now and then, one of these gifted individuals would pass through his life, and for a while lyndon would allow himself to be caught up in the idea of letting himself be truely seen by someone. to let his faults be seen by someone who wouldn't pick at them. that wouldn't damn him for the man he had grown into, and that wouldn't curse him for the things he had done to get where he was now. some of them could even love him in spite of it all. some could simply see the usefulness of the terrible things that made him tick. some were drawn to him when all others were repulsed.

nona spectre, was perhaps one such gifted individual, and lyndon was happy to let her use him... for so long as it benefited him more than her. she was a clever one. prone to exploiting his weakness for flattery and flirting, and whilst he was aware of it, he was happy to let her do it. happy to play the chasing game for as long as it suited them both, but of course with no promise of what might lie at the finishing line... wherever it might have taken them.

she brushed passed him, and lyndon's lips twitched with the smallest of smiles. her perfume caught his nose as she passed him by and made herself at home on the plush velvet seat, throwing an arm back as though she owned the place.

he respected that about her.

five foot nothing, but somehow still able to command a space as though this was her house and not lyndon's. he slid back into his seat beside her, adjusting his suit jacket as he sat, deliberately paying more attention to his drink than to her as she started talking. he leaned back, resting his hands on his lap as he looked at her from the corner of his eye. "i do hope that's a rhetorical question..." his voice was barely a murmur over the music that  lulled along in the background as the band warmed itself up for the opening act of the night.

and then she mentioned a business venture, and although he knew exactly the game that she was playing, lyndon was happy to pretend that his interest had been piqued... because this was the game that they played every time she came to club ramora, the game that she so very often won.

her hand was warm compared to his cold one. her skin smooth against the knuckles of his. he jolted in his skin, not used to the unsolicited contact, but not entirely disliking it. he turned his eyes to her painted nails, quirking his brow as though somehow offended by the presence of it on his lap, only for the expression to melt into something akin to bemusement. "i already have a business..." he said in a tired tone as he rolled his shoulders back into the seat and turned his eyes back to the stage.

of course she was quick to draw his attention back to her as she brushed her knee against his. for a woman that worked at the ministry, her skill set seemed far more in line with that of lyndon's most favoured employees of the club. of course he didn't comment as much, knowing that it would do little to help his case where nona was concerned. she already thought of him as a necessary evil, he didn't need to add to that.

he couldn't help but enjoy the glint in her eye as she dragged his blue eyes back to her dark ones. but he forced himself not to be dragged in by that glint. instead shifting his gaze to her lips, and tilting his head to look at them with a decidedly 'bedroom eyes' gaze  "and why would i want to do such a thing?" he asked as nona spoke about the menu.  "finesse..." he echoed under his breath.

she knew how to work him.

and as she continued to talk, lyndon found his interest suddenly piqued again... this time for an entirely different set of reasons than what nona had probably planned. "sounds like a liability to me." he said, though of course inwardly the word 'challenge' was closer to his line of thought. "this club is not a babysitting service..." he pointed out, as though nona would let the subject drop there. "the right influence? you are aware ms spectre, that you are currently half way down the wrong end of knockturn alley, don't you?" lyndon said with a dismissive blow of air from his nose as he slid his hand out from under hers, using the freshly released fingers to trace the line of the rim of his glass. "you've come to the wrong place if you're looking for some kind of .... safe haven." he said, pausing to lift the glass to his lips and ignoring the horrible mix of toothpaste and whiskey.

It was a careful dance they did, the right amount of give and take was needed so neither party looked too easily molded or duped. She didn't mind the game really because in the end she knew he'd come through for her. At least in so far as he had every time before. She just had to give him good reason. Of course if he had just said yes she could have spent the evening playing their other game of cat and mouse.

Her lips twitched a little at one corner as he pointed out he did, in fact, already have a business. "And a fine one at that, but it could be even more, and I know how much you enjoy the more-ness of profit margins," her voice was a low coo, his effort to seem disinterested not lost on her. There was something about him in the low light of the club, the way shadows moved across the hollows of his cheeks somehow making him seem almost haunted.

It was a silly thought, the sort of thing one found in romance novels and wireless programs. Nona was not prone to those flights of fancy, but she did wonder about him sometimes. About what it was like in that gilded penthouse surrounded by people but seemingly never touched by them. She wondered sometimes if he were sad or if he'd even know there was something missing in his life. Of course it was easier to wonder about someone else's loneliness than admit your own, which was probably the reason she wondered about him at all.

"Because you don't want them to be ashamed," she withdrew her hand from his and brushed a curl from her face, "the Ramora welcomes those with scars; seen and unseen. In this particular instance there are both." She didn't want to say too much because it wasn't her story to tell and Cosima Romanko struck her as an exceedingly private person. Still, it seemed like the best fit for the woman who couldn't seem to adjust to the life that had been ripped out from under her.

Biting her bottom lip she leaned forward a little, "Surely you don't think I have so little respect for you that I'd compare what you do to child minding, they're not infants. They're wounded in a world that doesn't care - and while I know you'd hate for anyone else to notice, I know that bothers you. They're not projects to you, they're not charity, you do what you do because - and do it so well I might add, because I think you recognize the ways in which we are all broken, and you find the beauty in that brokeness."

She hated out sentimental it sounded, as though he were some brooding knight. That wasn't how she saw it at all, it was more base than that. Toying with her necklace she tilted her head a little, voice once again light, "Any port in a storm, Harper. Frankly I need to get this girl on dry land before she completely loses it. And I know that you won't let her wallow too much in what might have been. The grieving process is necessary but I know you'll watch out for her in that way you have you hope no one notices," she paused pointing toward her face "not just a pretty face, remember?"

there was a careful calmness to her tone. as though she had rehearsed the words a thousand times in her mind. as though she had planned out the sales pitch and knew every comeback he had lined up. although impressed, part of him was glad of the fact that nona spectre was (somewhat) on his side - because lord only knew that her ability to look right through him could have proven rather deadly if he ever found himself on the other side of the fence to her.

she cooed over his fine establishment, and although he knew the retort was aimed squarely at his ego, he let the corners of his mouth turn upwards with pride. yes, the romora really was a fine establishment, and it was almost hard to believe that it had grown out of literally nothing. out of two nearly derelict buildings with smashed windows and death traps for stairs. from a place that had once reeked of dead rats and rotten wood, had grown a reputation. a vibe. an idea. an idea that although all men were not equal, being labelled a creature didn't make you somehow less. here at the romara, it made you... more. or at the very least something you could be proud of.

perhaps if the place hadn't been attached to lyndon's smug face and tarnished with his  iniquities, people might have allowed themselves to believe that the place was about more than exploiting the apparently not so lucky few that worked there. yet for whatever reason, lyndon was almost happy to let people think ill of the place... as though allowing them to see what it was really about would somehow reflect positively on him and throw off the idea that he was anything other than an awful human being.

for a moment his blue eyes had been lost to the cigar smoke that wafted through the air behind a particularly tall and skinny man who's chin seemed to jut out almost as far as his nose as he strode briskly across the floor to take up his seat not far from the stage. he was a regular, but an insufferable oaf of a man who didn't seem to understand the concept of 'look with your eyes, not your hands', and lyndon's eyes narrowed at the sight of him. if there was one man who truly believed that the romora was about exploitation, then it was that skinny prick and his over priced cancer sticks.

and then nona's voice brought him careering back down to earth. his head snapped to face her. momentarily caught off guard by the clarity in her words. he quickly caught himself staring and purposely forced an eyebrow up into a thoughtful peak, as though this was the first time that the idea had crossed his mind. as though he had never given much thought to the fact that perhaps some of the people who worked here might have been somehow empowered by having their so called afflictions looked at in a more desirable way. he let her speak though, lifting the tumbler to his lips and taking the tiniest of sips. he kept the edge of the glass pressed against his bottom lip as she finished her sentence. letting it hang in the air with an heir of mystery to it that she knew lyndon wouldn't be able to resist.

he drank in her expression. nona was not one to lie to someone's face, yet lyndon had always had a healthy distrust of those who came baring great gifts. "i'd be lying if i said that you hadn't piqued my interest." lyndon said lazily, setting the tumbler down on the table once more as he shifted in his seat so that his body was slightly more angled towards nona... which by proxy meant turning a shoulder towards the stage.

he almost regretted setting the tumbler down though as nona started to speak again. he felt like he was back at school for a moment. listening to some ratchety old professor telling him what great potential he might have had if he would only embrace it. "i wish i cared as much as you seem to think i do." he said clearly meaning on a personal level as nona spoke about the world and it's lack of consideration for creatures. "you make me sound like some kind of self help guru..." lyndon added as he set his fingers to playing with the cuff of his sleeve like some bashful child. "what i do is run a business. if it has the added side effect of making attractive social outcasts not want to kill themselves, then i suppose that's just a happy bonus." he said letting his head rest on the back of the seat as though he was already tired... despite having barely been awake three hours. again he looked at her with those same bedroom eyes, lingering on her scarlet coloured lips as though his eyes were somehow magnetised to the colour.

though of course nona was not wrong in what she was saying. yet he still couldn't help but think that the way in which he found the beauty in brokeness was somehow different to how she meant it. the smile that reached his eyes was almost devious in the way it made those blue eyes narrow, yet it was slow to ebb away as he watched her play with a prop of her own. her necklace.

"grieving process..." an interesting notion. one that made lyndon feel somehow annoyed. he turned his eyes away from her then, moving them back to the stage where the first of the dancers was warming up the audience whilst the singers clung to the curtains at the edge of the stage, waiting for their cue.

the dancer was a long thin woman with so few curves to both body and face, that she almost seemed to have no gender at all. she moved so fluidly to the hum of the music, gliding effortlessly from the heel of her foot to the very point of her toes as though what little frame she had, weighed nothing at all. it wasn't until she turned her exposed back to the growing crowd, that her reason for being at the ramora was exposed. the jagged lines down her back were a harsh mulberry colour compared to the milky white of her shoulders. they spanned from one shoulder to the very centre of her back in a crooked diagonal line. a perfect set of four lines that had defined her for the majority of her life.

he wondered if she had mourned the loss of her perceived normality. he tilted his head like a quizzical dog and sat forward, resting his forearms on the table and turning the glass of whiskey absent mindedly between his fingers.

"we have no rooms left." he said after a pause that might have been long enough for it to have been considered rude. "she runs her menus by me. trial basis for now." he added sternly as he watched the dancer collapse in on herself, only to explode into another spin. "any sass, any attitude and she's gone from here. she can face the storm on her own. she deals with her own transformations, i'll have no part of that." by which he meant he would have no part in whether or not this unknown decided to take wolfsbane or whether she chose to lock herself away when the change took hold. "if she brings a bad reputation to my door, it'll be on you." he said, turning his head to nona at the exact same moment that the dance climaxed and came to an abrupt end.

Nona watched him, his features were almost unreadable almost. She would never be so bold as to say she knew him. Men like Lyndon Harper had too many hidden corners to ever really be known but the fact that she knew that much about him might have put her a head above the rest. Nona had always been good at sussing people out, seeing things they didn't think anyone would notice. Her persona was big and her laugh a little loud but her eyes were sharp. She read undercurrents of rooms like paperback novels. It had taken her some time, the first time, to come to Lyndon looking for help. This was old hat to them both now, but she found with each time he surprised her she wanted to be surprised again.

Her smile was soft and genuine as he admitted she'd hooked him. Well, that wasn't how he put it, but it was tantamount to the same thing. She wanted to shower that glorious face in kisses and nestle up to his side for the night but she stayed put, swirling the the speared bit of Dragon Fruit through the fizzing drink she'd yet to really indulge in - in part because she knew it would be deceptively strong. That was why she preferred her alcohol straight, you knew exactly what you were getting into with you danced with that demon. The irony of not knowing what was in her drink or what was actually happening in Lyndon's brain was not lost on her.

Grinning at him before finally bringing the drink to her lips and taking a dainty sip, sweet did not begin to cover what washed over her pallet. It was like booze infused nectar, while not all together unpleasant it certainly wasn't her usual fair. The fizzes tickled her nose ever so slightly, a faint giggle which she quickly tried to cover. How mortifying. Pressing her fingers tops to her bottom lip she regarded him from under thick lashes, before shaking her head. "I know you'll balk at the notion, but I think we both know it's more than that. I will, however, play along because I happen to like being the only one to know something about you. Makes me feel smarter."

It must have been a heavy burden to carry, the weight of wanting to care less than he did coupled with the desire to to the most he could without being found out. She didn't know why he fought it so hard, what deep dark secrets he held that forced him to believe being the bad guy was the best and truest representation of who he was. For Nona the how and why of his coming together mattered a whole lot less than what he was willing to do now. People often talked about deep down motives and the idea you were just either good or bad deep down... but Nona wasn't sure she believed in deep down anymore. She believed there were the things you did, and what Lyndon did mattered more than whoever his past self had been.

She tilted her head to the other side slowly as he repeated her word about grieving process, she let her eyes wander to the stage as her fingers lightly twisted in the chain of her necklace. "Dreams can - and should be grieved when they die, Lyndon. People plan and plan, working toward this goal and in one random act they lose everything. She was on the precipice of great things," she paused and motioned to the stage, unable to tear her eyes away from the elegant movement of the young dancer she knew very well, "like when I introduced you to Elke, or any number of the other Weres in your employ. And here she will have a chance to do different great things...she just can't see it yet."

His change in tone (and the end of the dance) pulled her attention back to those blue eyes, bottom lip caught between her teeth. It took every ounce of willpower she had in her tiny body not to simply pounce on him right then and there. She did slide a little closer, her knee bushing his again as she nestled into his side, and slender fingers traced the seam of his suit jacket, "Have I ever brought you any sass or trouble that wasn't my own, Mr. Harper?" She let the question sort of hang there between them, lips ticking up as she gently tilted his chin to even their gaze, "That list of favors I owe you is getting a little long. You might want to start cashing them in soon or we might be at it till I'm ninety."

blue eyes that had once been lost to the dancer on the stage, were now lost to the long lashes and hazel eyes that looked back at him. the gods had blessed nona in ways that would have made many of the veela that lyndon had crossed in the past, somewhat jealous. her beauty had it's own kind of magic. yet as he looked at her, he couldn't help but imagine that her looks were as much a curse as they were a blessing. she had been gifted a smooth complexion with childishly wide eyes, and lyndon wondered how often these innocent looks had gotten people fooled into thinking that there wasn't much going on behind them. he wondered if it frustrated her that there were some that no doubt took one glance at her and forged their opinions of her based on her penchant for bright red lipstick and dresses that were so tight that it almost looked as though they had been sewn around her. did it make certain people take her a little less seriously than they might have if she had been cursed with harsh angles and no curves to speak of?

lord only knew that lyndon had a nasty habit of basing so many of his opinions on appearance. and yet with nona he hadn't been sucked into the trap of thinking that she was even half as innocent as those big wide eyes made her look. her tongue had proven as much on a regular basis, and he had no doubt that it would continue to set him straight if he ever got lulled into the same trap as the others.

so when giggled at the fizzing bubbles of her drink, he was not at all sucked in. smiling only slightly at the corners of his mouth. she quickly corrected herself, looking up at him from under those ridiculously long lashes in such a way that made his insides tingle. "well, please keep whatever it is you think you know, to yourself ms spectre. i have a reputation to maintain." he said as though being exposed as being anything other than an asshole might be somehow detrimental to him or his business.

"we'll have to agree to disagree on that one." he said sitting a little stiffer. on the outside, lyndon harper hardly looked like the kind of man who had suffered the death of many dreams. outwardly he looked as though he had it all. inwardly however, this was of course not the case. far from it in fact. his faint smile gave way to a frown as he turned his eyes to the other patrons of the club who were now settling into their seats and making idle chatter whilst the dancer moved to the edge of the stage and made way for a trio of singers in matching golden flapper dresses that seemed melt around them and drip gold onto the stage as they walked. an illusion of course. although his eyes might have been dragged away from her once more, his attention was clearly still with the red head as he toyed with her words at the back of his mind.

lyndon harper was not the kind of man that allowed himself to suffer at the hand of dead dreams. he was the kind of man that got angry about it. kicked and screamed and pushed forward until some new opportunity presented itself. cutting off anyone in the process that might have somehow contributed to the loss in the first place. he was not one to openly wallow. no, that side of himself was saved for private, for the hours of the morning after the club closed and he found himself alone and at the mercy of his vinyls and private supply of liqueurs upstairs.

as she spoke about elke, lyndon pursed his lips together. she was gone from the stage now, and although the trio of singers had already begun their own routine, lyndon's eyes were lost to the corner of the stage where elke gathered her things just beyond the reach of the stage lights, and slipped off behind the curtain, where she would change and be back again for a dance that would fill the interlude later.

lyndon had never asked what elke what her dreams before the ramora had been. she didn't talk much, and lyndon liked her that way. she had a naturally sad face, and lyndon had never seen her smile, had never seen her eyes light up for anything that wasn't a dance routine. yet she seemed to shy away from public affection. it was odd to watch how she craved it and yet ran from it at the same time. for a while he had taken advantage of that. now though, that particular intrigue in her had passed and she no longer turned up at his door in the middle of the night. lyndon was neither made happy nor sad by this fact.

"i hope you're not setting us both up for a fall nona." he asked, suddenly all too aware that preparing entrees was far from doing great things. he cast a sidelong glance at nona. "you know how i detest being a stepping stone..." he said, reaching forward to turn the tumbler between his finger tips again. he didn't so much hate the idea of being a stepping stone as much as he hated the idea that there were better things out there than the place he called home. that there were better things out there than being around him. that he was somehow being left behind.

"and what would you have me do with you?" the words came slowly and practically oozed from his lips. whilst it was true that lyndon had banked an impressive number of favours with nona (many of them weaving through the tables as they spoke, in fact) it was also no secret that lyndon had never cashed a single one in - though he routinely referred to them (though not in such a way as to lord them over the woman), and this was not the first time that he had teasingly asked her how she would prefer he spent those favours. the devious smile that turned the corners of his mouth up this time, caused a glint in his eye that those with any kind of self preservation instincts might have run from, yet he had a feeling that for nona, that glint in his eye might have sent her mind rushing in an entirely different direction. he leaned a little closer as he let her think on her answer. so close that their faces were little more than a hand span apart.

She liked being looked at, more specifically, she liked the way he was looking at her in that moment. She liked feeling like she had captured his attention from the stage, and not just with how tight her dress was or deep red her lips were. She didn't expect to turn his head, not with just a pretty smile anyway. He was surrounded by beautiful women ever single day, to stand out there had to be something else about you. It wasn't that Nona had an ego or that she was unaware that her features were arranged in an aesthetically pleasing way... it was more like she knew but she didn't particularly care. Being pretty was nice but it seemed a silly thing to take pride in. It was something she'd had no real hand in, more up to the crap shoot of family traits or what muggles called genetics (former muggle obsessed girlfriend had explained it once). She had her father's softer features and her mother's creamy skin. She took care of herself so in that respect she supposed she played some role in the whole thing but she could have just as likely had warts and a hump.

She wet her bottom lip at the mention of his reputation before her teeth pressed into the soft flesh. She almost asked what was in it for her if she did keep his dirty little secret about actually having feelings but his response to the idea of grieving for dreams gave her pause. It wasn't hard to see that Lyndon was a man with a burden. She wondered if perhaps he was confusing grieving with self pity. There was a difference in Nona's mind, but maybe there wasn't in his and that's where the burden came from. If you never grieved a loss how could you let it go, and if you didn't let it go could you ever really be satisfied with any empire you built? She found it hard to believe so... but then maybe some people weren't meant to be happy in the way the world thought of happy. She knew her idea of happiness was much different than her mother's - who thought it was high time she got married and popped out a few babies. Maybe the Ramora was Lyndon's way of rebelling. It was strange to think about a man who could so easily command a room needing to rebel against anything... but maybe.

His voice pulled her from her thoughts as she shook her head, tone lighter but not quite playful or teasing, "Have I steered you wrong yet, Mr. Harper?" She bit the inside corner of her cheek before speaking again, "Can it really be called a stepping stone if you're pulled along for the ride? Have a little faith in my vision Lyndon." Of course then he did that thing that made her stomach drop through the floor as he drew in closer. It was rather hard to be enigmatic or light when those blue eyes zeroed in on her. Her fingers still rested against his chin, slight stubble tickling the pad of her thumb as she rubbed it in a soft circle. His face came closer but not quite close enough and she wanted to scream a little. So close, yet still so far. He was not going to make this easy for her because why would he?

Again she wet'd her bottom lip, eyes focused intensely on his as he asked what she'd have him do with her, "I suppose it'd be unladylike to say anything you want?" Her words hung between them for a moment she she tried to decide if she were actually bold enough to follow through fingers creeping along his jaw to run through his hair as she brought her lips close enough to barely brush his, her breath warm and sweet as she murmured, "Luckily I've never been very interested in being a lady." And then she finally closed that last breath of space between him, heart rating ticking up as she curled her nails against the back of his head. It was probably not wise getting involved with one of her best contacts but...she wasn't exactly thinking with a mind tuned for business at the moment. There was something about him that drew her in and damned her better judgment to hell and back. She knew without really thinking that this was diving off the deep end into dark waters but she'd also never been very good at staying away from things so obviously bad for her.

This was not the first time they had danced this particular dance. Tip toeing dangerously close to the edge of what might have been, only to have their sensibilities pull them back from the brink. It was not unusual for him to look at her like that, or for her to coo at him the way she did, and yet there were getting caught up in the moment as though they were the main characters in some kind of dark romance movie.

She bit her bottom lip, and lyndon allowed his own to part my mere millimetres, sucking in the air that she breathed out and smelling the sickly sweet after taste of her drink on it. "No, but there's a first for everything." Though were there really many 'firsts' left for a man like Lyndon Harper - who made a point of indulging in all things? "It's not your vision tat concerns me..." He trailed off. Nona's vision was all for the greater good. Nona's vision was about helping others and doing whatever it took to get edge each one of her cases towards some kind of higher purpose. This werewolf was an unknown, and thus far, Lyndon had been given dangerously little to go on when it came to the woman's motivations.

No doubt he would regret his lack of questions for nona at a later date.

But for now he was content to simply let his eyes wash over whatever he could see of her from this dangerous proximity. The club was warm to start with compared to the world outside, but feeling her breath on the soft skin around his mouth seemed to somehow make his entire body run hot on the inside... though somehow his skin remained ever cool to the touch. A fact that he was often thankful of because it meant that his own body couldn't work against him to give the man away. One thing he couldn't deny, however, was the way her fingers on his face made the skin on the back of his neck seem to prickle.

Her words were low and drawn out like his own. A lesser man might have been thrown off. Intimidated perhaps by her forwardness, but Lyndon instead found it to be an all too attractive proposition.

Keeping his hands to himself was rapidly becoming an impossible task for the man, but rather than mirror the woman, Lyndon kept one hand on his glass, drawing it closer to the edge of the table (though not dangerously so) whilst the other found a resting place on Nona's skin, fingers landing on the exact spot where her dress gave way to the milky skin of her thigh. Apparently the feeling was addictive, because the hand that had been so determined to hold on to his drink, soon followed suit on her other leg. Thumbs and middle fingers pressing into her skin as though somehow excited by finally touching something that wasn't cold sterile glass.

Her fingers seemed to creep across his skin, tips finding a new home in his muss of hair as she edged ever closer. If he hadn't been caught up, he might perhaps have thought to himself how nice it was not to have to command the situation. How nice it was to not be the one going in for the kill. Not least of all because it meant that any regrets she might have had later on would be purely her own... Which somehow how have made it all the sweeter to him.

But of course he didn't have time to process the thought because no sooner had it popped into his head, was it being pushed out by the sudden rush of fizzling sensations that erupted from the meeting of their lips. She dug her nails into the back of his head, and Lyndon allowed himself to be pulled in, closing his eyes as her thick lips met his thin ones.

He had let her do all the work up until that point, but now it was his turn to steal the show. Sliding  one hand up and around to the side of her thigh, until the tips of his fingers were lost under the black of her dress. A motion that would thankfully have been hidden from the rest of the club by the table, though anyone with half a brain in their head would have known exactly what was happening there.

Yet he exercised at least some self control, dragging his fingers back down her thigh in a graze that would no doubt send a shudder up her spine if she was receptive to it. He was the first to purposely break off the kiss, his nose still resting against hers, and eyes still close as he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and savoured the taste of her scarlet lipstick.

Adjusting the angle of his head so that her nose was now on the opposite side of his, he pressed his lips back into hers, lingering there for a moment before running his tongue between his lips in a fleeting motion that was over all too soon. He pulled himself back from her for a second time. Creeping fingers mirroring the gesture as they retreated to her knees.

He seemed to practically ebb away from her after that, but his eyes never left her, holding a look to them that seemed to almost challenge the woman. "I fear the things I could do to you would far outweigh your debt to me..." He said through gritted teeth that betrayed his mild frustration at the fact that this was all happening whilst prying eyes could easily find them. He was quick to correct his expression however, letting his face fall into a typically sly sideway smile. Even so, it hardly seemed to stop him from running his fingers over both thighs one last time before dragging them back to himself. "And I don't suppose your ministry fellows would look to favourably on those kinds of business favours." Ee said with a lazy sigh as he allowed his shoulders to fall back against the back of the seat. "I suppose I'll have to try and think of something far less... Interesting for you Miss Spectre." He said as though he was trying to save her from himself... Though one could just have easily argued that it was merely a way to challenge the woman further.

A trail of metaphorical sparks followed his fingertips as they traced up smooth skin, like the glow from a spellcaster's wand tip lighting up ever single nerve ending they brushed. She fought the shiver but her body's reaction was more obvious than she would have liked. Her breath burned in her lungs as their lips lingered. She hated that he was the first to pull away, hated more that all she had managed in response was a whimper of protest as their foreheads rested together for a moment. She had almost forgotten they were actually in public, that anyone could have seen. She wasn't one to care much, it certainly hadn't ever stopped her from playing footsie before... but there was something a little alarming about just how heady that kiss had been.

She let out a slow breath, lips curving up ever so lightly as he pulled back, heart still hammering against her rib cage, "Lyndon Harper fears something? Say it isn't so," she shook her head a little, nose brushing his as she finally looked at him. Maybe it was because her life had become work and shifted away from nights out and heading home with a steady rotation of benefiting friends, maybe it was because they'd been doing this back and forth for so long but something about his tone egged her on when it should have been a warning - a chance to gracefully bow out and go about her night in a way that wouldn't end in total disaster. It was a chance she probably should have taken and run with... but where was the fun in that?

"Or we could stop keeping score, just for tonight of course," there was no denying the glint of devilment in those hazel eyes as she ran her thumb over his bottom lip (though it did little to budge the telltale red stain that lingered there). She almost laughed at his comment about her colleagues. Obviously he'd not had much experience with the frankly very sexually liberated  crew of Level 4... which seemed rather odd because she hazily remembered he and Balfour were near the same age, and her cousin's exploits had been well publicized recently. "Could it be, is Lyndon Harper more worried about ruining my supposed reputation than I ever have been? If I had one I'd be very flattered," she paused, trying to bite back a far too cheeky grin, "I think? I've never been much bothered by what people think of me to be perfectly honest. Spotless reputations are boring, and if there's one thing I never am, it's boring."

For Lyndon, the feeling of being watched was one that he had carried for most of his life. Sometimes it was true, sometimes it was an acute paranoia that seemed to rear it's ugly head from no where. Right now however, he had a feeling that it was a little of both. Why he cared in this particular instance was anyone's guess though... after all it was hardly as though this would have been the first time he'd caught getting hot and heavy in his favourite booth with someone who probably should have known better. And it was hardly as though being caught in such a position would put his integrity into question.

Even so, his apparent reluctance to be 'caught' was nearly completely over ruled by the breathless whimper that rushed out of Nona's mouth before she could stop it. He liked having that effect on others almost as much as he liked his privacy. Not quite enough to risk a second kiss though. "Oh, on the contrary, there's plenty out there that I fear." Lyndon said turning his eyes to what was left of his drink and shrugging his shoulders in a dismissive fashion, as though the admission was no big deal. He reached forward for the glass then, lifting it to his lips with a steady hand - as though the kiss hadn't affected him in the least bit. He pursed it to his lips, knocked it back and set the glass back down on the table, sliding it out of reach to where it would hopefully be noticed by one of the passing waitresses - who would know better than to leave it empty.

He had not fully anticipated the words that spilled out of Nona's red lips next, though they proved to be a rather nice surprise. Had he really thought that she would take the hint and back down from the challenge he had posed her? Did he really believe that a kiss would be enough to sate either of them now that they had finally broken through whatever barrier it was that had stopped Lyndon ever touching her despite the way she regularly gave him chances to with those opportunistic brushes passed him?

She once again commanded the direction of his gaze with the hand that she rested against his jawline, and he obediently (almost) turned his face to see her once more. She ran her thumb over his thin bottom lip, and he did his best not to smile at her touch - as though it would somehow give him away if he did. "And why would either of us want to do that?" Was he stalling for time? Or was he looking for some kind of purpose behind whatever it was that Nona might have been proposing? After all, if a night with him was of no benefit to her, why would she? It wasn't as though she was a bad looking woman who couldn't find someone her own age, or was in any way desperate for whatever kind of affection it was that Lyndon gave out.

"At the risk of seeming crude, it's not just your reputation I'm concerned about." He had been bold in his statement, the sly smirk he pulled over his features, doing it's best to disguise the fact that he had not meant to be crude at all, and that what he had really meant was that he was afraid of ruining whatever it was that normally fizzed and popped between them. He had learned that lesson the hard way a long time ago - and had somehow equated those negative feelings with needing to keep the people he cared about at arms length... or at the very least, out of his bed.

Not that Nona was someone he particularly cared about... but the potential was certainly there.

Or at least that would have been the argument he might have made if anyone had pulled him up on the thought process that was currently floating through his mind. "Perhaps in that respect, we are one in the same then." He said, slowly and deliberately lifting a hand to the one she had rested on his face. He laced his fingers with her own and moved her hand from the stubbled line of his jaw, and for a moment, it might have looked as though he was rejecting her...

But instead, he stood, adjusting his grip on her fingers as he did so. "I suppose it would be most business like to conclude this transaction with a handshake, but I don't suppose you'll instead allow me to cash in one of my favours for this next song?" There was no look of nervousness in his expression - why would there have been? Rejection was rare for Lyndon, and those that did were no big loss to him.

Her eyebrow raised just a touch in surprise while Lyndon tried to act as though it were not a particularly big thing to admit he had fears. She had pegged him as the sort who saw fear as a weakness that couldn't be afforded, along with any other compromising emotions. Though he seemed to dismiss the notion of it being a particularly intimate admission, as was his style for most things he murmured casually. She wondered if she was the only one who noticed the things he did like that, if other people would have taken it as an off the cuff remark and not thought about it again. Nona filed these moments away, along with the way he took his tea, for later dates when they might become relevant again.

If she hadn't been so focused on his eyes, she might have missed the uptick 'round his eyes as she ran her thumb over his bottom lip. She knew he certainly hadn't meant for her to see, but those were the little things, the little ways he pulled her into this intricate waltz of will we or won't we. She enjoyed the ways he surprised her but she enjoyed turning around and surprising him right back. They were so different but so much alike at the same time. They both liked the chase, it was thrilling and new and untapped potential bubbled under the surface - but she also got the distinct impression there was a fine line for him between fun work and too much work.

"I think a better question is why we haven't yet, to be perfectly honest," lips forming that teasing smirk again, though much softer this time. She would never have assumed the reason was because he genuinely cared for her, she didn't have that kind of ego on her... but there were little signs, maybe. She tried not to read too much into them the looks that might have lingered longer but weren't touched with wanting. She couldn't explain what it was about him... she had spent most of her life with the "love the one you're with" mentality. She didn't pine, she didn't burn, and she certainly never perished over a man... but Lyndon held her attention in little ways. He snuck into her thoughts, just around the edges and then all at once in the middle. She'd never admit it of course. It could only end in disaster... but she found she didn't want it to stop either.

"Is that right?" her tone was low again, tinted with just the hint of amusement as she tried not to roll her eyes, "you might be surprised." Crude or not, there was something behind those words, something more. She couldn't put her fingers on it, but something. Or maybe it was the way he wrapped his fingers around hers, how natural her hand felt in his as he moved from the booth and waited for her to stand up. She remained in the booth for a moment, staring up at him from under her lashes again, softly biting her bottom lip as her pulse picked up before she finally stood and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor.

A single figure stood on the stage, sequined gown pouring over a figure that seemed impossibly perfect as the club was filled with the low rich tone of her voice. Their height difference might have been comical to anyone else but Nona was used to making do, slender frame curling into his as she tucked her head against his chest. Of course it was a sad song, about wanting and burning up from the inside out, she felt her lips tick up again just  little. It was like something out of a wireless noir program and she loved every single thing about it... even if that meant she already knew the probable ending too. She'd let herself have the moment to breathe in the smell of smoke and his cologne, trying to form a muscle memory of how it felt to have his hand pressed to the small of her back.

For someone who didn't like the idea of being watched all that much, Lyndon made quite the show of leading Nona to the dance floor. Yet his frame was stiff and upright as he did so, and his blue eyes searched for source of that skin crawling feeling. Of course he found not one single pair of beady little eyes looking back at him. Not least of all because the vast majority of the patrons that had already settled in, were too busy swooning over the woman on the stage or engaging in their own flirtatious games to take any notice of the two.

They were not the first pair to take to the floor, but Lyndon took no notice of the others as he came to a halt, turning to face Nona. He adjusted his suit jacket with his free hand. He gritted his teeth but it did little to hide the growing smile that pulled at his features.

The air was smokey, buzzing with a familiar energy as waitresses and dancers alike seemed to buzz around them. Nothing was ever rushed in Club Ramora - hell even the words coming from the singer's mouth seemed to practically ooze out into the air. Perhaps it was another way in which the club reflected it's owner. Or perhaps he was the one reflecting the club at that moment as he allowed Nona to press against his chest. Their difference in height had always been somewhat of a bug-bare to the man, though this was the closest they had ever been to one another - and thus the first time it had ever been much of an issue.

Yet it didn't feel like much of an issue to him now as she swayed slowly with him now. He breathed her in then, the smell of her shampoo catching in his nose as he led them in a steady loop. It was a dance in the simplest sense of the word, but Lyndon wouldn't have had it any other way. There was something far more vulnerable about being this close to someone and still somehow having no expectations from them that muggles seemed to miss out on with their 'bump and grind' approach to dancing.

He held her hand to his chest, and ran his bony fingers down the skin of her forearm absent mindedly. Blue eyes almost lost behind heavy lids as he allowed his mind to wander and his body to simply enjoy the proximity.

The song felt almost like a sad lullaby, but it was one of Lyndon's favourite, and without thinking he quietly hummed it to himself as he turned in small circles with Nona. "Do you remember the first time that you came to this place?" He asked, letting his free hand run to the base of her spine, where it pressed against her, pulling their two bodies closer. An act that in turn made him stand a little straighter. "I wonder what that version of you might think of all this..." He mused quietly, wondering if she had noticed any real change in her self since she had first struck up business with Lyndon all those cases ago when he was still new to the business.

He grinned a toothy grin at the idea. The memory of just how sassy and yet professional she had been on her first visit was clear in his mind now, as was the memory of her 'so are we doing business or not' demeanour - which seemed a long way away from where they were now.

He breathed her in again then, letting a moment of quiet pass between them so that he could simply enjoy the moment - after all this was not the kind of behaviour that he was known for, and not the kind he had any intentions of making a regular occurrence of either. So there was no damn way he was going to rush over it now.

"And I almost wonder what your dear cousin might think. After all, he is hardly my biggest fan - though as I recall, he's quite fond of you." Lyndon said, quirking a brow in such a way that anyone listening and looking in would have known the statement was meant to stir some kind of response - perhaps to offer some break from the rising tension that he at least was feeling.

His shirt front was crisp while the material of his suit jacket felt soft against her cheek. Her body followed his naturally, snugly without a strain of desperation. Her heart rate returned to normal as a cozy sort of calm settled into her bones. He felt sturdy and real beneath her fingertips, something she hadn't quite expected. He was so like the smoke that often filled his club, a wisp of something that could never really be touched. It seemed almost surreal he'd be made of real flesh and blood, and yet...

She closed her eyes as he began to hum, unable to stop the smile that formed on her lips she told herself it didn't matter because he couldn't see it and no one else would pay attention (no matter how glowing and blissful she might have looked). At his question she shifted her face just enough to hide it against his chest and gave a sort sort of laugh. Did she remember? How could she forget, but she bet he didn't actually remember.

She didn't even try to look up at him, though her voice had a dreamy sort of quality, "Do you mean two years ago when I'd just retuned from South Africa, or later when I decided having you as a connection was worth wandering into Knockturn in a very tight dress because someone wouldn't return my owls?" The first night she had set foot in the club she'd been with a few girlfriends, shortly after her return. A scandalous girls' night to check out what the buzz around this new club in Knockturn was really about. Rumors had been intense even though he'd been open a year by that point.

She came into it thinking he was exploiting creatures, having heard all kinds of half truths. It was only when she saw it with her own eyes she realized what was actually going on. Weres were unfalteringly accepted; welcomed within the clubs walls, encouraged to embrace their scars and cast aside the shame. She had watched Lyndon go about his business, unable to tear her eyes away. Then a year later when she was promoted to casework from the registry she approached him about a specific case in which she was dealing with a were no one wanted, cast out by his family and living on the streets she'd taken a chance on a feeling about Lyndon and his hidden corners touched with kindness.

"I doubt she'd have many objections," still amused she finally tilted her head to look up at him, thankful she'd taken such care with her eye makeup since lashes and the smokey colors were all he would probably see. The mention of Balfour was something though. She loved her cousin dearly, devotedly (all of them actually), but over the last year her hero worship had been set aside to something more like an adult understanding that no one was infallible. She was learning it was better to see people as they were and love them for that than the stories you could make up inside your head about them. Pedestals weren't great perches in the long run for the ones you placed upon them.

Lightly she touched his cheek, coaxing his gaze down as she placed a small kiss against his jaw, "He learned before I was ever born not to get in the way of a Spectre woman and the formation of her own opinions. If I'd concerned myself with the thoughts of others, even people I love very dearly, I wouldn't have taken any kind of job at all - least of all one helping those the general public deems unworthy. I make up my own mind, I'm actually quite good at it. For instance, I'm of the opinion you should probably definitely kiss me again."