The 'It Started With A Kiss' Meme

[socksonfeets]

IT STARTED WITH A KISS

How to play
① Tag in with your name/series.
② Go to RNG and roll 1-10. That's your scenario!
③ Tag around!
④ Have fun. :)

Scenarios

① ACCIDENTAL. Did someone shove you on the subway? Were you standing too close and did one of you trip? Oops, this is awkward!
② PASSIONATE. You love this person so much that it's impossible to hold yourself in check any more!
③ GENTLE. They knew it was coming, you knew it was too late to back out. Trouble is, you're having a lot of FEELINGS.
④ GIGGLY. How are you supposed to kiss them when neither of you can stop laughing?
⑤ SMOOTH. You couldn't have been smoother with that smooch if you were whisked with fruit, dashed with milk and served over the counter.
⑥ DANGEROUS. This really isn't the time to be getting romantic! If it goes wrong, you can always blame the adrenaline, right? Right.
⑦ SAD. Remember: a wet kiss is a memorable kiss, even if it isn't a good one.
⑧ TEASING. The tables have turned: this time, they will be the one left wanting more.
⑨ PAINFUL. Clinked teeth? Banged foreheads? Well done, Romeo, now you both share the same sore distraction.
⑩ LINGERING. You just ... can't ... stop. Uh oh.

Comments

[nostalgiabomb]

That obvious, huh?

[ He casts an appreciative eye to the dancers as they pass, but they're moving on, so he doesn't bother to do much more than that. It's crowded in here, which makes a lot of sense to him given the state of the station -- people drinking and dancing their cares away. Peter frequently did the same when he was younger, and he knows that road is temporary balm at best.

Peter raises an eyebrow in surprise when she takes them to the stairs -- he didn't realize the club was this large, and he hesitates at the threshold. On the one hand, she could easily be leading him into an ambush; he barely knows her, and their first meeting involved a pretty flashy betrayal. On the other hand, though, she had the chance to attack him while they were ducked for cover, could've easily taken him unawares as they fought that krogan.

She wouldn't need an ambush, he decides, and so once again, he follows her. ]

Not that I don't appreciate the atmosphere-- [ And he has to raise his voice to be heard over the din. ] --but would you mind letting me know where we're headed?

[omegatalons]

Afterlife, and we're moving to the lower level. I prefer it there.

[It's spoken like some sort of household name -- in case Peter hadn't seen the glowing letters at the entrance, of course. The corridor is short, and the section of the club that opens up to them isn't too different than what lies above. More poles with dancers to occupy them. A larger floor. But, most importantly, it lacks a certain pair of eyes from a higher place that Nyreen isn't in the mood to feel upon her ... to say nothing of the inevitable line of questioning that would follow.

There are other sets of eyes on them, though--or rather, on Peter in particular--but Nyreen can feel the weight of them just as intensely. More than a few glared daggers are silenced with her own hard stare, and once they've reached the bar counter Nyreen turns to her new companion again.]

I'd advise you to let me do the ordering, here. Trust me. You can still pay for it.

[Perhaps a bit of an unintentionally-ironic statement, considering their circumstances, and said atmosphere. But she's already leaning forward to speak to the bartender.]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Despite all evidence to the contrary, Peter is observant when he wants to be. He can feel that he's being watched, can tell that he's unwelcome, but he ignores it like a champ. His is a contrary personality type; the more he's not wanted, the more he's likely to stay. Nyreen's responding glares don't go unnoticed, either, and he feels a little gratified to have someone on his side.

And then she's taking charge, and he feels a little less gratified. ]

Wait, hang on--

[ but she's already turned away to place their orders, and he huffs in frustration -- not just because he's being ignored, but because, god damn it, he's finding her no-nonsense, detached attitude weirdly attractive? Seriously, what the hell?

He turns to get his bearings, and despite the dim, pinkish lighting, he marks out the area: dance floor over there, tables over there, more exotic dancers; he notes the private rooms and notes the possible exits, commits them to memory before turning back to the bar.

When he puts down the credits for their drinks, he leans on the bartop on his elbow and eyes the beverage suspiciously. He waits until the bartender has passed out of earshot before speaking. ]

That dude's not tryin' to poison me, right?

[omegatalons]

[Nyreen takes up a full glass of something bright and neon in each hand. The batarian behind the counter scowls when the money's laid out, all four of his beady black eyes narrowing in a glare, but credits are credits. He can either take the human's money, or he can revel in the concept of giving out two free drinks.

In the end, he'll take it, and not even look at them again.

Nyreen outstretches a hand in Peter's direction, offering up his share. The question earns an amused flicker of her mandibles, a turian sort of smile. Perhaps he's a fast learner after all.]

Now he isn't.

[Before even leaving a window of opportunity for further questioning, she gestures toward one of the lounge tables. One that's free of any dancers, and with seats that look a lot more comfortable than the stools where they're standing.]

If you don't mind, I'd prefer to sit out of the way.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He takes up his own drink before sweeping an arm to the seats, bowing slightly from the waist. ]

By all means. Ladies first.

[omegatalons]

[She slides into one of the cushioned leather seats, eyes entirely on the human now, on the lights pulsing in purple and blue over his cheekbones.]

It occurs to me, Star-Lord-- [and she says the name, call-sign, whatever it might be, in a tone that could almost be whimsical ... by her standards, anyway--] that I never told you my own name. It's Nyreen.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He grins -- he loves it when people use his title, self-appointed as it may be -- and slides in as well. ]

Hey, saved me the trouble of asking. [ He lifts his glass to her, as if in toast. ] Good to meet you, Nyreen. Sucks about the job, though.