Just dance (Seyta)

"Anna," Sledge addressed Seyta before realizing his mistake. From across the club Seyta had looked like Anna. The haircut was the same style, but the color wasn't right, and her face was longer. There was some slight similarities, but clearly this wasn't the girl that had given him his first kiss. Well, this was an awkward situation. Still, he had made his way across the dance floor, and now he owed the lady an explanation for why he had suddenly shown an interest in her. "Sorry, you just look like someone I know."

He took a seat near enough near Seyta so that he didn't have to shout to be heard over the music. "It's eerie 'ow much you look like her." Not as much as she had when there was distance between the two, but starring straight at Seyta he could see the subtle differences. Unless he was purposefully thinking about the girl in front of him Sledge found it hard not to think of Anna. "My name's Maxwell by the way."

It really didn't take much to encourage Sledge, a simple wink, a nod of the head, an invitation to sit... If Seyta did not want Sledgehammer to be around she was doing a poor job of it. He didn't even realize that he had messed up something up by calling her Anna. "Gladly," he said taking the seat opposite of her, "Dangerous enough crossing there without dancing." Shamelessly he gave her a dimpled smile.

"Seyta?" he asked, needing confirmation that he had heard right. The music was loud and he didn't know if he was hearing everything correctly. "Lovely name." Sledge's attention was fading away from the noise and the bright lights as he sought out eye contact with Seyta. Even when he was young Sledge had a tendency to focus all his attention on one thing at a time. That was why he really needed to have a good watchman whenever he ran a con. It was entirely possible for him to not notice a police officer until the handcuff was around his wrist. For now Seyta had his full attention.

"What are you drinking?" Sledge was only vaguely interested in what she was drinking. No doubt it was some sort of fruity and light. If he was to play this game though, he would have to know what she wanted to drink and order it at some point. For now Seyta had her drink, and he could simply talk to her. It was just what he needed. No thinking about business, or how much he missed his family back home. Just get bladdered and enjoy the company of a lovely lady.

"Did you know that the Goddesses love pomegranates," he posed the question to Seyta. The implication was there that she was a Goddess simply because of what she was drinking. It was him chatting her up. He also couldn't help but think of the old Greek myths and legends that he had loved as a child. Her empty glass seemed as good a reason to keep up the flirtatious talk. He could easily order her a new one, now that he knew what she wanted. But he wasn't an idiot. Giving Seyta her drink this soon would just give her an excuse to send him off.

"Couldn't 'elp but notice your dress," he said, purposefully not looking at it. So far he wasn't doing too badly he thought. If he let his gaze drift down to the dress it might come off as him checking her out. Easiest way to get a lady angry at you was to let them know that you were ogling them. That and telling them that they looked chubby in that outfit. "Lord and Taylors, am I right?" he asked.

"Completely true," Sledge went on about the fruit and the divine's preference for it, "Hades used one to trick Persephone into being 'is wife. But like you said, you don't care much for ancient history." The conman felt that he was loosing her interest, or maybe worse, wasn't as entertaining a play thing as she had anticipated. Walk away with some dignity man. Oh shut it.

Seyta moved her seat to allow him a better view of the dress that she was wearing. Sledge had seen it before, in the store, having done a shopping trip not too dissimilar to Seyta's. The difference was that she could get things out of the stock room, or simply remove the tag. Sledge went for things that he could sneak out from a paying customer's bag or something that just didn't get those pesky electronic tags. Amazing how little people thought of some accessories. The best technique was to actually go to buy something, let them take the tag off a shirt he had interest in, then, while the employee was preoccupied, slip a different shirt in and trick them into thinking that they had forgotten to remove the tag from that first shirt. Charlie had taught him about quick change artists, people who would use large bills to pay for small totals, then switch the money as the cashier was counting out the change for something smaller. Same basic principle really.

The point was that he recognized the dress. Still, he gave it a thoughtful look before returning his eyes to Seyta's face. Eye contact was always critical. "Well, the print is bold enough, though the colors don't pop as well as they should iffin you really want my opinion. Red and black is such a classic combination, flawless really, but that shade..." Sledge's face told of his displeasure, "Designer could have pushed it a little more I think. Maybe a more vivid green to really make the roses shine. Cut's well enough though, and sitting it looks like a good fit for you."

There. How many straight men could give such an opinion on a dress and not once say anything about how much skin was showing?

Sledge caught Seyta's glance past him and the smile. He knew what was behind him, he had crossed it, and slides one of her empty glasses closer to him to pass back and forth between his hands. Should he go for the drink instead? She had had a few already, the empty glasses spoke of that. By buying her another round he might come across as just another bloke trying to chat her up. Alright, so he was another bloke trying to chat her up, but Seyta didn't need to know that.

The music changed to something that he enjoyed a little more. So far Sledge hadn't drunk enough to impair his coordination or balance. There was a pleasant buzzing in his brain that made him feel like his head was getting fuzzy, but a little physical activity wouldn't result in an embarrassing lack of limb control. He lifted an eyebrow. "Did you want to dance?" Sledge asked, "Or is there a large jealous boyfriend standing behind me?"

David twisted the glass about in his hand. It wasn’t that he was bored with Seyta, far from it. She was an interesting challenge, more so than the Irish waitress he had met the first day. Maggie had been very obvious with what she wanted from him. Poetry, a flirtatious smile and comment, nothing out of the ordinary. Seyta gave only the most subtle of hints. “Dancing. The rhythmical movement of a body to music in a way that is pleasant to watch. A form of self expression.”

He turned away to glance at the dance floor he had traversed earlier. Those that had been there before were still dancing the way they had. “That is not dancing” he told Seyta, turning back to her. David stared at her, confused as to what they had just been discussing. Not that there could have been that much of a conversation. “Did you want to dance?” he repeated the question from earlier.

The few drinks that he had had must have been to blame for this feeling of déjà vu. The conversation with Seyta felt like a repeat, and he didn’t know if it was because of the alcohol or the setting. One pub crawl blends into the other after awhile.