170 Rue Mazarine: Madeleine's Apartment

[The Exodus]

Username: Mrs. Nadir Khan
Character name: Madeleine de Chandon
Character age: 30s
Desired apartment: Madeleine’s apartment is on the Rue Mazarine in Saint-Germain des Prés, the most desirable living area in all Paris. It’s small, but lively. The general style of the interior is luxurious, with original French art, elegant and refined, from the overall design scheme down to the very smallest details. The furnishings are high-quality throughout, successfully mixing clean-lined modernity with more soulful classicism and original art. The oaken floors and exposed beams give it a unique look and the view is lovely—the perfect view of Parisian life. An open and elegant kitchen with exotic wood and a stone countertop is fully equipped with all the modern conveniences: microwave/convection oven, washer/dryer combi dishwasher, large refrigerator, separate freezer, and induction stove top.
A commodious computer desk area with Compaq PC, high-speed wi-fi connection and a flat screen TV with over 100 free cable and radio channels and free calls to the U.S will keep you connected to the outside world while you enjoy the inside comforts of this luxury residence. The classy Roche et Bobois leather sofa in the living room also converts into a high-quality queen bed.
The separate bedroom, designed with a green-tea organic feel, invites you to unwind. A window opening to the interior courtyard, ensures you quiet and a good night's sleep. With artistic curtain sheers throughout, floor and vertical window lighting, the bedroom seems to float on a layer of light making it a true romantic nest. The bed is furnished with 400 thread count linens, European down duvets and pillows. A large closet provide ample storage.
The bathroom is contemporary and sophisticated and has a generously sized stone shower with a built-in ceramic seat, large showerhead/fountain shower and heated towel rack.

Yet, for all its sophisticated charm, the apartment, it is, much like much of Madeleine’s life, part of the appearances she’s trying to upkeep. It was paid for by Madeleine’s earnings from the Rouge and—since leaving for the Populaire—has been entirely redecorated.

Link

[The Exodus]

OOC: Mad/Valter Shennaniegans! BIC:

Madeleine de Chandon

The morning sun didn’t do Madeleine the courtesy of creeping into her window slowly. Instead, it assaulted her eyes when she was utterly unprepared. Brightness flooded over her eyelids, piercing through and filling her once-black sight with harsh white-yellow. As she squinted her eyes open, Madeleine realized that she was in pain. It wasn’t a searing or burning pain, but rather a dull ache of muscles and bones—her shoulders, her neck, and especially her hips and between. Madeleine gave a low moan. Typically, that sort of pain meant she had had one very excellent night. Trouble was, usually around the time Madeleine realized she felt such a wonderful ache, she remembered the events leading up to the morning. To her dull horror, Madeleine realized she couldn’t remember the last several hours. The last thing she remembered was kissing Ashton on the cheek with a murmured, “Congratulations, mon cherie” and bellying up to the bar. She didn’t remember why or where they had been. Just that there had been dancing, music, and a lot of people. She looked to one side and saw a wine-red dress crumpled up on the floor. And when she looked to her right, Madeleine saw the answer to all of her questions.

Valter Gottfrid’s strong jawline was well-shaded by the sunlight. His blonde lashes rested against his sharp cheekbones as he slept. A strand of sweat-dampened hair lay limply between his brows. And he was absolutely, gloriously naked.

Maybe that didn’t answer all of her questions, but it told Madeleine that the ache she felt was indeed a very good ache. And that she was damn lucky not to have gone home with a stranger, but rather, her favorite Swede. Which left Madeleine wondering when Valter had gotten back from Sweden in the first place. At last check, he was off to keep one of his business holdings from going under. And now, here he was in Madeleine’s bed.

It was a fortuitous, if unforeseen turn of events. Lucky.

Madeleine rolled over onto her side to study him. Make sure he wasn’t an illusion. If she’d been drinking, it was entirely possible she was hallucinating Valter. Some sort of fantasy, brought on by some sort of psychobabble she didn’t know well enough to name. It was also possible that this wasn’t her apartment as she assumed, but a hotel in Sweden. Had she gone to Sweden last night? Or maybe it was a dream. She shut her eyes hard and opened them again. No. Not a dream. And this was definitely her place. And Valter was still there, sleeping soundly at her side.

Well, then.

Madeleine reached out to touch Valter’s face. Gently, she ran her fingertips against his skin. And then—to her mingled horror and pleasure—Valter’s eyes opened.

“Good morning,” Madeleine said, retracting her hand quickly. “Fancy seeing you again.”

[Deleted]

Valter Gottfrid

Valter wasn't so much asleep as he wished that he would be. He could feel the draft of air conditioning grazing over his seemingly naked body. He couldn't remember having gotten naked but it wasn't an uncommon circumstance and the draft suggested it was the truth. I'm awake, I'm naked...that's not so bad. It was then that he realized the ache in his bones, the crawling feeling in his skin and the heaviness of his own cranium.

It was highly evident that it must have been a hell of night...whatever it was that he had done. Valter couldn't, for the life of him, remember what had happened. It didn't so much matter, he was in his bed, he wasn't feeling well he wanted to go back to sleep. He started to settle back in to sleep when there was something on his face...fingers...there were fingers on his face. Who the hell am I in bed with? He really wanted to go back to sleep now; the nightmare was surely just beginning. He was in bed with some woman, considering these definitely weren't children's fingers, that he very likely didn't know. At least, he hoped it was a woman.

His questions were answered as the woman in his bed spoke.

“Good morning,” Madeleine said, retracting her hand quickly. “Fancy seeing you again.”

"Mad..." he said, groaning through the pillow his head was laying on, "What're you doing here?"

He wasn't really sure how she had ended up in his bed. He had just gotten back from Sweden and gone to...something. He'd come straight back to some event. Lucian was there....Nope. That's all he could remember. Maybe Madeleine had been there? Maybe she had been waiting for him to return to Paris and sweep her off her feet? Unlikely.

All this thinking is making my head hurt.

"Madeleine...Mad....What the hell happened last night?"

[The Exodus]

Madeleine de Chandon

The sharp movement backwards brought on a wave of nausea and the mother of all headaches. Madeleine gingerly reached up for her head and clutched at her temples. Jesus Christ. She had thought for a moment that maybe she would escape the horrible hangover that usually came with blackouts and naked men. Her luck wasn’t that good.

"Mad..." Valter groaned. "What're you doing here?"

She almost said “It’s my house” but Madeleine only managed to say “It’s” before realizing that her own voice was what might have triggered the headache. Jesus. Was she always that loud? Madeleine became aware of a pounding sensation in her head that was even louder.

"Madeleine...Mad....What the hell happened last night?"

“Don’t remember,” she mumbled, sitting up properly and drawing the sheet around her. It smelled like sweat and Valter. “I was hoping you could tell me.”

Her voice was husky, that post-sex glow was evident in it. But it hurt her throat.

Thirsty, she thought suddenly. I’m thirsty.

She shrugged the blanket off and stood up. It coiled onto the bed and Madeleine realized that, like Valter, she was completely naked. It wasn’t anything Valter hadn’t seen—perhaps even the night before—so shyness had no place. She had no desire to get dressed, except to maybe toss on a long shirt in case Valter wasn’t her only guest. She kept remembering Ashton and part of her wondered if Ashton had joined them at some point in the night. Lucian would kill her if that was true. Madeleine fumbled to her closet and pulled out her favorite morning after shirt. A white button down she’d stolen a few years ago. It didn’t smell like Valter, but like dryer sheets. The smell didn’t help her headache much. But, just in case they weren’t alone, she was dressed.

“Thirsty?” she asked. ”Maybe we can fill each other in over Bloody Marys and Tylenol.”

[Deleted]

Valter Gottfrid

The sound of his own voice echoed off of his year drums like a never ending drum. One might think this beautiful, except once they realize that the drum is right between their very ears and is on the very of driving them insane.

“Don’t remember,” she mumbled. “I was hoping you could tell me.”

Madeleine's voice echoed less, that was nice. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to respond or not. Did he really want the drums to start beating again? The severely hungover Swede chose to remain silent. Why speak when he could try to remember what the hell it was that had happened?

Valter watched as Mad stood, going to the closet for clothes and turning back to him, now wearing a very sexy button down. Was it his? Probably not. It didn't matter though. Where the hell were his clothes anyway?

“Thirsty?” she asked. ”Maybe we can fill each other in over Bloody Marys and Tylenol.”

He started to nod his head just before realizing that a nod of the head would create the sensation of his brain bouncing back and forth inside his skull. A sensation that, as many would agree, is not at all enjoyable. He stopped the nod just in time and hummed a quick "Mmmmhm. Sounds nice."

Valter slowly got up from the bed, still stark naked and trying with all of his might not to make any sudden movements that might cause unpleasant feelings. Finally on his own two feet he stretched his arms and his shoulders, preparing to begin the day of hangover that awaited him. At least there was more alcohol and more of a beautiful woman involved. He walked carefully, so as not to jostle anything, to the bedroom door and out towards the kitchen, still scratching his head as to what had happened the night before.

"I just remember a lot of people, a lot of noise."

Unfortunately for them both, that could have been anything. They might have been in a club, on a busy street in Paris, at a party. Quite literally anywhere. Maybe the clues would start to come back as the hangover started to wear off. Or, maybe, his mind would clarify at the taste of a Bloody Mary. Only time would tell.

[The Exodus]

Madeleine de Chandon

A lot of people, a lot of noise… Madeleine braced herself for her apartment to be filled to the brim with rowdy friends and strangers. Instead, it was empty, quiet and still. She checked the bathroom. Empty, quiet, still. She shuffled to the kitchen—empty, quiet, still.

Well, damn.

“Coast is clear,” she called out to Valter, before gripping her head and remembering why she didn’t like sound right now. She shambled to the refrigerator and rested her head against the cold. It vibrated slightly under her and it was like an icy head massage. Above her, a magnet slid down the refrigerator. The paper it was holding landed on her head. Madeleine reached up and took itin her hands. In gold, filigree writing, it said: You are invited to the wedding of Ashton Greene and Lucian Michaud. It had a date, their phone number, and some red design in the corners. She held it in one hand and pulled open the refrigerator with the other.

“What’s today?” she asked as Valter came into the room. She didn’t look up, but rather, stared at the invitation, hoping that she hadn’t blacked out through her maid of honor duties.

[Deleted]

Valter Gottfrid

“Coast is clear."

Valter hadn't really thought about the fact that there might be other people in the apartment. Why would there be? Either way, there was no one there, he didn't have to worry about walking around stark naked when there may very well be severely hungover guests in the living area. Maybe that meant that Mad would take her clothes off again and they could live as nudists for the day?....Maybe that was wishful thinking.

His foggy brain was starting to clear as he woke up more. Granted, the headache wasn't really going anywhere and the noises weren't getting much quieter but, he could at least think now.

The Swede watched as Madeleine looked at a paper from off the refrigerator, still wishing that she might lose that shirt soon.

“What’s today?”

Valter paused to try and put the past few days in sequence, "Erm, Sunday I think, why?"

Had Madeleine figured out what the hell they'd been up to last night? What event had they both been invited too? It wasn't as though they had planned to go together, or even to meet up, or even to leave together. It was pure happenstance that they had ended up in the same place at the same time. He moved closer, standing behind her so as to read over her shoulder and maybe glean some information that could lead to answers.

[The Exodus]

Madeleine de Chandon

Madeleine remembered that Saturday—the day printed on the invitation—was Ashton’s wedding day. There, she had been meant to walk down the aisle with her best friend’s boyfriend (which she hadn’t ever gotten out of doing), give a sufficiently embarrassing and touching speech, and practically drown at the open bar. It was as close to the event of the century that Madeleine could think of and if she missed it for a drunken night with Valter, there was no way anyone would ever invite her to another party ever again. Of course, if she missed it for a drunken night with Valter, there was absolutely no chance that she would be made godmother to any of Ashton’s rugrats, so there were upsides.

"Erm, Sunday I think, why?"

“F*ck.” Madeleine held up the invitation for Valter to see. “I can’t remember if I missed this or not. Ashton’s going to rip my spleen out my throat if I missed her wedding.”

Never mind that she’d never get the chance to wear her gorgeous bridesmaid’s dress. It was wine-red and floor length. A real stunner, one she’d only get to wear once in a lifetime. Madeleine pulled out the tomato juice and dug around the crisper for celery.

“My best friend,” she clarified. “I was supposed to be her maid of honor last night.”

[Deleted]

Valter Gottfrid

“F*ck.” Madeleine held up the invitation for Valter to see. “I can’t remember if I missed this or not. Ashton’s going to rip my spleen out my throat if I missed her wedding.”

Ah, the wedding...right.

“My best friend,” she clarified. “I was supposed to be her maid of honor last night.”

"Yeah, I was supposed to be there too."

Valter stopped, thinking for a moment. He was supposed to be there, Lucian was his best friend. He was going to come back for the wedding, he could remember that much. That's why he had left Sweden when he did. He had brought Edie back with him....

sh*t! Where was Edie? He'd have to call home or run by there soon. Would she even know to answer the phone?

Back to thinking. Okay, so, he had come back from Sweden with the intention of going to Lucian and Ashton's wedding. Did he make it there? Did he and Mad meet up somewhere else for some other reason? Where were his clothes? His clothes might be able to give him a clue as to where he was.

"Wait, wait! Maybe we ran into eachother at the wedding?...I mean, we might not have but, maybe we did!"

Valter craned his neck a bit, looking around the room. Clothes? Clothes? Nope, no clothes.

[The Exodus]

Madeleine de Chandon

Madeleine was pretty sure she’d remember her maid of honor speech. It would have been the most epic, awesome speech ever given in the French language. And yet, she couldn’t recall her witticisms or any touching well-wishes she’d bestowed upon the happy couple.

"Yeah, I was supposed to be there too," said Valter.

Madeleine couldn’t worry herself with Ashton and Lucian’s wedding right now. Instead, she found herself tempted to use one of Myron’s old, annoying phrases: Hold. The. Phone. Valter knew Ashton? How? Why? Since when?

"Wait, wait! Maybe we ran into each other at the wedding?...I mean, we might not have but, maybe we did!"

“You wait,” Madeleine said, slamming the tomato juice down on the counter and reaching up into one of the cabinets that was meant to hold china but instead held all her best alcohol. She reached around for the Grey Goose. “How do you know Ashton?”

She wasn’t sure if she sounded peeved, jealous, or merely curious, but a weird feeling trickled into her stomach. It was a small freaking world. She knew that already, thanks. But all sorts of awful coincidences began to overwhelm her already fuzzy mind. Was Valter an ex-boyfriend of Ashton’s? A cousin, maybe? Thank God he wasn’t quite old enough to be her father. Madeleine would hang herself before she entered the border-line incestuous mess better known as the Michaud family. She pulled down a stainless steel tumbler and poured tomato juice and vodka and tabasco sauce in to shake. But instead of vigorously mixing the contents, Madeleine languidly moved it back and forth, staring at Valter with raised brows and wide eyes. Small. Freaking. World.

God, he was gorgeous. Why was she even fussing about this? There was a naked, glorious man in her kitchen. Why was she asking questions?

[Deleted]

Valter Gottfrid

“You wait,” Madeleine said, slamming the tomato juice down on the counter and reaching up into one of the cabinets that was meant to hold china but instead held all her best alcohol. She reached around for the Grey Goose. “How do you know Ashton?”

...Was he not allowed to know Ashton? Why would it be a problem? The answers didn't really compute to him. It hadn't even moderately crossed his mind that Madeleine might know Ashton and Lucian. Paris may have been big and full of tourists but it really wasn't that big when it came down to the locals. Valter wasn't quite sure why any of this was a big deal. After all, he didn't even know Ashton, he knew Lucian. He couldn't really put together why it was that he'd never run into Ashton before.

"I don't?" That wasn't an answer...not one she would except. "Lucian is my best friend...well, probably also my only friend in Paris."

That was sad. Why didn't he have any other friends? He would have to work on that sometime, not that he didn't want to be friends with Lucian, he just needed more friends than one. Maybe find some folks with kids? That would be nice. Then Edie would have playmates.

"Why? How do you know Ashton?"

[The Exodus]

Madeleine de Chandon

Madeleine felt suddenly possessive. Valter wasn’t hers. He hadn’t ever really been more than a bed buddy and a partner in crime. And yet, the prospect that he was somehow connected to Ashton—possibly even an ex-boyfriend—made her want to bare her teeth and wrap around him, warding off other women invaders. She wondered if maybe she was still drunk, because she should have felt more protective of her friendship.

"I don't?" Valter said. . "Lucian is my best friend...well, probably also my only friend in Paris."

Madeleine’s heart flew up into her throat. Sweet, sweet relief. Valter was friends with Lucian. Now that was acceptable. That was just fine. That was—

Surprising. Very surprising. Lucian Michaud was mister slick, no-nonsense. He made high-brow jokes and frowned upon Madeleine’s less-than-pristine behavior. In fact, she was probably certain he’d never even sworn in his life. Apparently, he was also a hypocrite because he had Ashton sleeping with him before they were even technically dating. Maybe it wasn’t so implausible that Lucian and Valter were friends after all. Respectable looking sex-deviants, the pair of them. Madeleine resumed mixing the drinks.


"Why? How do you know Ashton?"

“She’s one of my best friends,” Madeleine said, reaching up for glasses. “We met back when she was working at the Rouge and Lucian was little more than an unattainable older man.”

Madeleine smirked at the thought. She almost told Valter that his “best friend” had been f*ck buddies with Ashton while she was engaged to his son, but something told her that some best friend secrets were meant to be taken to the grave. She poured the drinks.

“So, let me get this straight,” she said. “You and I were both supposed to be in the wedding party last night. Which means you and I would have ended up in bed together, even if we hadn’t been on-off sleeping together in the first place? Sh*t. I’ll drink to that. Cheers.”

[Deleted]

Valter Gottfrid

“She’s one of my best friends,” Madeleine said, reaching up for glasses. “We met back when she was working at the Rouge and Lucian was little more than an unattainable older man.”

Valter grinned, it was as though fate had struck. The best friends on each side of a newly married couple getting together. Not that they were together but...well,... they were together it was acceptable to say, in Valter's mind at least. They'd been on again and off again and they kept coming back together and the lanky blonde was beginning to think that it might just be meant to be. It was almost as though whatever higher being was writing a quite cliche romantic comedy. Not that Valter minded.

“So, let me get this straight,” she said. “You and I were both supposed to be in the wedding party last night. Which means you and I would have ended up in bed together, even if we hadn’t been on-off sleeping together in the first place? Sh*t. I’ll drink to that. Cheers.”

See, even Madeleine agreed! A perfectly setup relationship. Now, if only she would agree to it officially being something. Did Valter even really want it to be something? Who knew, maybe he was just feeling moony. As he shook the romantic thoughts from his mind a thought occurred to him.

Taking his glass and knocking it to hers, a quite appropriate metaphor, and sipping the wonderful concoction that would save him from his hangover, Valter looked to Madeleine. "So, why were you familiar with Rouge workers?"

It was remarkable how little he really knew about Madeleine. This severe lack of knowledge shook the romantic thoughts from his head, dismissed as a moment of tenderness without the proper analysis.

[The Exodus]

Madeleine de Chandon

The pain behind her eyes seemed to lessen now that Bloody Mary seeped into Madeleine’s bloodstream. She shut her eyes and smiled. She felt Valter’s glass meet hers, heard the clink, and when she opened her eyes, and saw Valter lowering his drink.

"So, why were you familiar with Rouge workers?" Valter asked.

Madeleine groaned. She did not want to talk about the Rouge. Why had she mentioned the Rouge? God, she was a moron. Talking about the Rouge would be talking about the past, which would be talking about Myron, which would be talking about the kind of emotional baggage she pretended not to have when she was around Valter. Valter could be the one with the kid and the drama. Madeleine was fun. She was absolutely baggage free, except maybe the drinking and smoking, which Valter did, too. Madeleine set her glass down on the counter and ruffled her hair, scratching her nails against her scalp.

“Christ,” she said. “It feels like forever ago. I used to… um. I used to work there. First as a dancer. Then as the chief choreographer. Before the opera house. And… a little bit during, but mostly before. Ashton was one of my dancers. You know. Back in the day.”

She shook her head. God, she wanted a smoke. Her cigarettes were on the dining table. She stalked across the room to grab one and set it on fire. She took a drag and looked back into the kitchen.

“What about you? How did you meet Lucian?”

[Deleted]

Valter Gottfrid

Valter was carefully awaiting Madeleine's response. He wasn't sure what he was going to think. The Rouge crowd was interesting one from what he had heard prior to now. He couldn't be sure of course, and didn't want to even think of judging Mad based on that affiliation alone. He would just have to see what she said.

“Christ,” she said. “It feels like forever ago. I used to… um. I used to work there. First as a dancer. Then as the chief choreographer. Before the opera house. And… a little bit during, but mostly before. Ashton was one of my dancers. You know. Back in the day.”

Valter nodded, not really saying much. It didn't upset him at all. The fact that she had been a dancer explained her flexibility and that she was a choreographer showed that she wasn't just sexy but also very intelligent. It was all good things. He hadn't; however, known that Ashton was a dancer. That was an interesting turn of things that he would have to asked Lucian about. She had said that prior to now but it hadn't really hit him until he mind had been settled about her past.

He watched her carefully, the delicate sway of her hips and swing of her arms as she walked to the dining table, grabbing a cigarette and lighting it, looking back to him. “What about you? How did you meet Lucian?” Valter followed her, taking a cigarette and lighting it. Taking a drag of the cigarette and pulling it away from his lips, he wrapped his around around her waist, thinking back to when he and Lucian met.

"If I remember correctly, I was on some Eiffel Tower tour and Lucian turned it into quite an adventure. We ended up drinking on the top of the Eiffel Tower."