Le Utilisée

[The Exodus]

Pawn shops may be outlawed in France, but that doesn't mean some thrift and vintage shops don't do a little shady business on the side. If you're looking for a one of a kind wardrobe piece, the front of Le Utilisée will have everything you could want. But if your tastes are a little darker-- and you know somebody who can get you in-- you'll want to take a look around the back room. That's where the most coveted-- and often least legal-- merchandise can be found.

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

OoC: For Andi! BiC:


William MaCarthy

If you were to ask Bill if he had any vices, he’d pass the question over with a smile and move on to the next topic of conversation. Not because he was ashamed, but because, really? Who asked someone that (other than a flirtatious, slightly drunk Toni on New Years)? But, after a while, Bill would open up and confess to the few he had: smoking and, once upon a time, Valium. And he couldn’t pass up good sex and beer, which only made him human. But there was one vice that he kept under wraps, locked away in some dark cabinet—thrift stores.

Having grown up in a large, lower class family in the outskirts of rural Wiltshire, Bill was used to thrift stores. In fact, they were a treat, a well-deserved break from hand-me-downs and handmade clothes from recycled drapes and whatever other pieces of fabric his mother could get her resourceful hands on. Thrift stores were where Bill could explore his own sense of style (opposite of chic as it was), find deals his parents could approve of, and escape from a forced wardrobe Bill didn’t have the heart to throw out.

In France, they were illegal, and even stepping in, Bill could feel the law break beneath his very footfall. But vices were vices, and vices had to be assuaged. If there was one thing rehab had taught Bill was that withdrawal was a b*tch he wasn’t inclined to meet again, so here he was, shopping for clothes that were possibly illegal and realizing he didn’t care.

Bill breathed in the smell of timeworn fabric, of countless fingerprints, and looked around. It was like being a teenager again, believing he could buy the whole store for 6 quid if he bargained correctly.

He ran his hands along the rack of ties, looking for one that he could wear on his date with Toni this week. He had one tuxedo and wearing it over and over again got tedious. He was no fashion expert, but the lack of variety was maddening when you were trying to impress a wonderful woman. Maybe she wouldn’t notice if he bought a new shirt and tie to accompany it.

[Deleted]

Andi Foster


It was the only place in Paris that reminded her of being back at New York. Andi was a vintage shopping goer, loving the way she could rummage through a single rack and find the most unique styles. It had started out as a way to get through her 'starving artist' phase without looking like a complete bum at rehearsals. Now she made a more than steady paycheck, but she was set on her ways. Andi liked looking cute, but she never understood why women would spend so much money on clothes. Everything she wanted and more was in these racks, for a reasonable price, and no one else would be wearing it. She just couldn't believe that it was illegal. Then again, it added to how cool it was!

Just like how no one else would be wearing this old vintage pearl bracelet she had gotten a hold of on a shelf. Andi gapped excitedly to herself, picking it up carefully. It was a relic, and something she imaged some wicked beautiful woman wore to the opera. Alright, so she was reaching to try and make a sweet story, but this was such a good find it deserved a special history.

Andi Foster balanced it on her right wrist, struggling to get ahold of the clasp with her other hand. She wanted to see what it would look like before purchasing it and get the full effect. Growing frustrated because she had been fussing with it for quite some time, she whirled around with it to see someone going through a rack just behind her. It was man searching through the ties.

"Excuse me," Andi poked in politely, from behind him, coming over to his side. He looked friendly enough, right?

"Sorry-" She apologized, not really having trouble approaching people but knowing that people sometimes felt a little awkward or weary when it happened, or some people were very serious about their shopping time. "I'm having trouble with this clasp," She told him, "would you mind helping me with it?"

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

William MaCarthy

Reds and blues and blacks all flashed before Bill’s eyes, and he scrunched his lips together in thought. Nothing seemed to catch his fancy. He wanted to look nice, but everyone at La Tour D’Argent was likely to wear these colours around their neck, so, as to not camoflouge with the well-to-do (although, honestly, it would take more than a new tie to convince someone he was wealthy), he put aside the eccentric, the ones that sat in an odd spot on the colour wheel (and would probably be thrown out by Damien after his date), and the ones that fit somewhere between tasteful and terrible.

He was just about to drape them over his arm and carry them to a mirror when a feminine, American voice said to him "Excuse me," causing him to look almost cautiously over his shoulder. Being talked to while you were shopping in a store that technically shouldn’t be allowed to exists wasn’t what Bill called a good time.

But the woman was pretty and seemed nice enough to not be a cop. So Bill smiled at her with his crooked lips. “Hi.”

"Sorry-- I'm having trouble with this clasp, would you mind helping me with it?" she asked and Bill was relieved. All she wanted was a hand (quite literally) to help her with a lovely bracelet. She didn’t want his name, or to cart him off to jail. He was safe.

“Of course,” he said, taking her delicate wrist in his calloused hand. Having sisters, he was used to helping women put on articles of clothing. He could remember when his cousin had her wedding in his backyard in Castle Combe, and females dominated the house, each one asking for this to be clasped and that to be tied. And Bill, though trying his best to stay out of the way and not giving a flying f*ck how his second cousin’s friend looked in her new dress, was happy to oblige: it got him out of setting up for the reception, after all.

“This is lovely, by the way, the bracelet,” he said, clarifying. “It’s amazing what you can find in these places.”

Well, that was a given. What was amazing was actually finding these places. You couldn’t search them on the Internet, there was no sign pointing them out. You had to actively look for a thrift store in Paris, for they were tucked away in forgotten corners of the city where no police crew or law enforcement official could find them.

Bill heard the bracelet click into place like a puzzle piece. “There you go, miss,” he said with a smile. “I pray to God you buy that because it was quite the challenge to get on,” sarcasm, of course, was entangled in his words and eyes. It usually was, after all.

[Deleted]

ooc: the bracelet! BIC:

Andi Foster


"Of course."

The relief that the nice looking Brit was friendly or at least willing, made Andi smile and offered her wrist. Watching as he began working with it, which surprisingly he was pretty confident in what he was doing, she noticed his hands and could feel the gruffness against her skin. She was no stranger to a hard worker's skin. His hands were probably pretty compared to what lie inside her shoes. A dancer's feet were a scary thing. Andi was a kind of girl who could appreciate callouses.

“This is lovely, by the way, the bracelet,” He commented, making her look up at him. “It’s amazing what you can find in these places.”

Andi's eyes lit up, "I know, right." She said, agreeing with enthusiasm for her love of vintage things and finding someone with her same passion, rather than most of her friends who never understood it. Really, she did not understand them. All the compliments Andi received when she was showing off her latest hole in the wall vintage store outfit, proved that this chick knew how to shop.

They both heard the click of the clasp at the same time. Andi's eyebrows rose excitedly.

“There you go, miss.”

"Thank you." She murmured, her eyes totally mesmerized by the sparkling pearls.

“I pray to God you buy that because it was quite the challenge to get on."

Andi let out a laugh, still looking down at her now classy right wrist, feeling the pearls. There was not a doubt that she was going to buy this.

"Well, I just need you to shop with me from now on." She teased back, looking up at him with a silly smirk, "I can just blame all my shopping purchases on the guy who pressured me into buying it all, taking away my shopper's guilt."

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

William MaCarthy

The woman let out a laugh. It had been a while since Bill had made a woman laugh. He supposed on good days he could elicit a smile or flirtatious chuckle from Toni, and Virginia, when not asking for advice, laughed at anything Bill said, which counted very little when you looked at the situation as a whole. Bill in general, as of late, had been quite the opposite of funny, and mostly, when he made a joke, Damien just looked surprised that Bill still had a funny bone left in him. So hearing a woman—or really, any person—laugh at something he said was a relief. Maybe he was pulling through this rough time in his life better than he thought. It was an agonizingly slow process, like pulling taffy. But, like pulling taffy, it had a rewarding end. And the end was in sight.

"Well, I just need you to shop with me from now on. I can just blame all my shopping purchases on the guy who pressured me into buying it all, taking away my shopper's guilt."

It was Bill’s turn to laugh and he nodded. “Well I’ve helped you, ma’am, so I believe it’s only fair you return the favour.” He plucked up the assortment of ties, lining them in no particular order along his arm. It was a wide variety, an array of strange finds, hidden treasures in the deep recesses of the city’s alleyways. “If I only got one,” Bill proposed, examining them. “Which one should I get?”

She was a stranger, but he trusted her. She looked well enough put together, and, though Bill knew very little about fashion, her ensemble seemed in style, seemed as carefully thought out and planned as Damien’s paints for canvas, as Bill’s nails for wood—so lovingly habitual that it became second nature.

Yes. She was just the person to help him out.

[Deleted]

Andi Foster

He laughed at her joke, and Andi laughed along with him, not making a move to leave just yet. Something about meeting a new person and having a solid connection with someone right off the bat, really made Andi Foster's day. Mix that in with a snazzy looking bracelet and some vintage shopping, and she was on that ninth cloud.

"Well I’ve helped you, ma’am, so I believe it’s only fair you return the favour.”

"Oh?" Andi asked, her brows lifting in curiosity.

She watched him lay the ties that he was rummaging through when she had first approached him across his arm. Andi watched him, looking at the various colors and patterns of the ties. She loved a man in a good tie. They were sophisticated and classic. It was an accessory that had been apart of men's style for so many generations, and there was a reason why.

“If I only got one,” He said, both of them now staring intently at the ties. “Which one should I get?”

Andi put on her fashion face, tapping a finger against her chin, and bringing her other arm to wrap around her waist. She looked at all of them thoughtfully. It was an important choice. A tie could make our break a suit in a heartbeat. A tie said a lot about guy, and was suppose to compliment him, work with him instead of against him. Then her eyes switched to his, and she looked at him seriously because, this was major. She took a step back, cocking her head to the side to see the whole picture and take him in. He was clean, handsome, but something about him was quirky about him in a charming way from what she had gathered in their short span of chatting. Taking a good look at his face, she stepped in now, getting inspiration.

"You've got killer eyes, so you need to make them spark." She advised him casually, going to his arm, staring at a couple, and then glancing back at his eyes. Andi took another moment, and then finally had chosen the perfect one. With an accomplished grin, she plucked up the green tie and dangled it nearby his face. She nodded, her grin broadening. His eyes were like bulbs of bold color.

"This does just that."

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

William MaCarthy

Any fears that she might lead Bill astray in his fashion decisions were immediately allayed when she contorted herself to scrutinize each tie, seeming to take careful, thorough pains to examine every minutia in the threading. Bill stood very still, her eyes on his arm, crawling over his face, making little trails that Bill could almost swear he felt.

Finally, through the silence of analysis, the woman spoke. "You've got killer eyes,” she said, and Bill laughed, shocked by the compliment. He wouldn’t know about that, despite Damien’s insistences, because, frankly, he couldn’t see his eyes regularly, and never took the time to check them out. The woman continued. ”So you need to make them spark."

Bill had heard things like that be said before, making eyes pop and what have you. The eyes, he supposed, were the windows to the soul, and making them stand out was somehow essential.

The woman plucked up a few ties and compared them first side by side, then to his face, then back again to each other. Bill couldn’t see what she saw in them, some hidden gen of information visible only to those with chic bones in their body. Finally, she nodded officially, as if the ties would buckle to her signal and disperse.

"This does just that." She said, and Bill took from her a green tie, the winner, his new neck companion.

“Thank you,” Bill said. But he wasn’t quite done with her. The store, especially for something so well hidden and secluded from the city lights, was expansive and cavernous, with little pockets of great finds tucked away, secret diamonds of merchandise just waiting to be unearthed and bought. “What say you and I look around a bit. You can work your magic matching skills and I can…” Bill offered up his empty hands,”….clasp things and talk you into buying more stuff…?”

[Deleted]

Andi Foster


“Thank you.”

Andi waved it off happily, telling him it was nothing. It was all about a keen eye and a chick’s consensus. She let him have the tie, feeling like she was one of those stylists on television. She had a love-hate relationship with the shows, because seriously, who could afford half that crap? A store like this is where people should be told to go. It was affordable, so they could keep feeding their families instead of arguing about credit card bills, and it was trendy if you knew what to look for.

“What say you and I look around a bit?” He said, her head perking up at the suggestion, not hating the idea in the least. “You can work your magic matching skills and I can…” They both looked at his offering hands. “Clasp things and talk you into buying more stuff?”

She snorted in a laugh, grabbing at his forearm and giving it a friendly squeeze before returning it to her side, and smirking. “Ah-ha, so partners in crime?” Literally, they would be partners in crime. Andi liked that idea, not just because of the perk of being guilt free and, let’s face it, going against nonsensical laws was fun sometimes in a ‘stick it to the man’ way. Another reason was because she always appreciated company. She was fairly new to Paris and this was the first time coming out for pleasure not business. It was turning out to be pretty groovy too.

“Let’s do dis.’” Andi declared, putting a fist into the palm of her hand and putting on a mock game face.

Turning around, she began walking, assuming that her other dynamic of the duo was following. Before she could even take a few steps, she was already whisked away with an idea at the shelf to her side. With a devious hum, she snatched up the hat that had caught her eye, the bright pink and vintage bow making it impossible to pass up. Spinning around in a grace that was due to a dancer's practice, she daintily set the hat on top of her own head with a squinting passionate expression, pressing a hand to her chest, and heaving up her shoulders as if just hit by a muse.

"I dare say, you are dashing, mademoiselle."

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

William MaCarthy

“Ah-ha, so partners in crime?” the woman asked, making Bill laugh once more. Her statement rang true in Bill’s ears. It was ridiculous, really, that bargain shopping was made illegal. That, he supposed, was because they were in the fashion capitol of the world, a place so far fashion forward, that even wearing the same outfit twice was frowned upon. That being so, shopping for second hand clothing was surely a one way ticket to style hell, where Bill was sure to be forced to hem ladies’ skirts, dressed in rags for the rest of eternity.

“Let’s do dis,” his new shopping companion declared, and off they went on a wild safari, hunting for deals and new articles as if they were cleverly camouflaged big game.

Being let loose in a wide, eclectic treasure trove was like letting a child leash-less in a candy store with full access to a credit card. It was a terrifying thought, borderline irresponsible to even allow Bill to set foot in a place like this.

Bill was lost, looking along the rows of unloved jackets that lived in a suspended land of abandonment, just south of anticipation and that bordered hopefulness. Any one of these jackets could go home with him today, but just before he could make a decision as to which one would become his new second skin, he heard the elongated, proper voice of a woman.

"I dare say, you are dashing, mademoiselle." It was his shopping cohort, her voice contorted to sound something akin to aristocratic. He smiled.

“You should get it, that hat.” Bill said, pushing her gently to a mirror, standing behind her, hands on her shoulders. “It suits you quite well.”

Then, out of the corner of his eye, Bill saw it. Slick black glass, it seemed to be, the colour of midnight, hanging, arms outstretched like Jesus on the cross, beckoning to Bill to come and kneel before it. A leather jacket. His current one was fine, yes, but having two couldn’t do any harm. This one was sleek, picturesque, and it happened to be his size.

“Bloody hell, look at that beauty,” Bill said with a whistle. “That bugger needs to be mine, it does. Wouldn’t you say?”

[Deleted]

ooc: I godmodded this coat thing slightly. Tell me if you'd like me to fix it! You weren't online to ask =)


Andi Foster

Andi's style was not a set image. Coming to Paris was like stepping into George Sertat's afternoon picture. It was place that she stuck out in. She had never been the one to glamour it up or take endless hours in the morning to look presentable. She got her extra sleep in the morning to throw on something she had taken two minutes to pick out, dab a tiny bit of make up on to lighten the cheeks and color the lips, and she got a little fun moment to accessorize. That was it and it wasn't anything special. Andi could have worked harder on her presentation now that she was affiliated with the Rouge and was getting some press, but she didn't work hard at her craft to have to change who she was or what she wore. If she wanted to purchase this zany pink hat on her head, that's how it was going to be. Then that shopper's guilt came creeping in.

"You should get that hat." Then her forceful shopping voice she had made her partner came cooing in just in time for Andi not to put the hat down. He lead her over to the mirror so she could see herself, his manly yet tender hands placed on her shoulders. She wasn't looking at that hat but was smiling at him."It suits you quite well." She glinted looking at the hat now, appreciating it for what it was. Andi Foster could make it work somehow. She touched it with the top of her hand and did a little hip popping pose.The color was way too vibrant not to just love it.

“Bloody hell, look at that beauty." Andi looked over her shoulder, her hand still sitting on her hat, following his eyes over to the corner. He was staring at a leather jacket. Now that, was hot jacket. She grinned, appreciating that someone else could appreciate a fine leather piece. Ever since she was little she had a thing for a guy in a leather jacket. It was probably her infatuation with Billy Idol growing up that caused her to be this way.

The pair stood their admiring it for a moment.

“That bugger needs to be mine, it does. Wouldn’t you say?”

Andi couldn't help but get a little giddy inside when he used those British slang words. It was her first week in Paris though, and she would be use to it. Then, she looked over at him. She could tell how much he wanted that jacket. Andi went to the jacket and took it off the hanger. It was heavy when she held it, which is why it was made for a man's back.

"I say," She began with a smirk, coming up from behind him and helping him into it. It was her turn to have him step in front of the mirror. Andi couldn't help but be girly about the bad boy look, finding it to be so attractive and her new friend pulled it off flawlessly. She put her hands on his sides and poked her head out from the side. Andi nodded at what she saw, assuring him that it was a must have. "Rock the hell on."

"La Police, tout le monde gel!"

Andi's heart stopped and her eyes went wide. Her hands clamped onto him tightly, looking through the clothes that hung on the racks to the entrance. French police men, burst through the door, holding up their weapons. People screamed around, and the man behind the register began crying, holding up his hands. She felt her entire body pumping with adrenaline, becoming terrified. They were shouting things that she did not understand. Everyone began dropping their clothes and holding their hands behind them, a couple that was about to leave the store with their bagful of clothes began getting cuffed. Andi Foster was going to be arrested! She had never been in this type of situation before. She knew that they needed to get out. They couldn't get caught. Andi was lose her job, and she was sure that her friend wouldn't appreciate it either. She had to make a seconds decision. Stay there, turn herself in, and watch everything she worked for go down the tubes, including a perfect record or fight back.

Suddenly, Andi dropped down to the floor on all fours. With her hands that were already holding onto him, she tugged on him to make her join him. Her eyes were wide and her chest was heaving up and down. "We've got to get out of here." She whispered breathlessly, her body jolting when one of the shelves down in the front was knocked over. They were tearing this place apart, and it wouldn't be too long that they would begin raiding the back where they were.

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

OoC: Not my best post... A bit of godmodding, because you weren't online earlier. Let me know if you want something changed. BiC:

William MaCarthy

Time, people often said, seemed to stop when you were in love. And now, standing here with this woman, he knew it to be true. The jacket was the only thing that caught his fancy and he and his new shopping companion stood in a silent moment as they stared in adoration of it. Beside him, she moved, disrupting his concentration, as she took the jacket off the wall.

"I say," she said, helping him into the jacket. It was already broken in and smelled like leather, dust, and cigarettes. The lining was soft and smooth, comforting, the outside rough and worn. "Rock the hell on."

Rock the hell on he thought with a smile as he looked in the mirror. He was transported to a time when he and Damien would take off down the roads of Wiltshire at midnight, tasting dirt on the wind and sneaking smokes. That had been a good time, back when he had no cares, no responsibility, and a bigger appetite for trouble than he wished to admit. He had this mystery woman to thank, he supposed, for giving him a taste for that old self again. He enjoyed it, he decided. Licking his lips, he found himself craving more.

"La Police, tout le monde gel!"

And, as if on a silver platter, trouble had been served rare, trimmings and all. Bill smiled, even as the young beautiful woman gripped to him tightly. She was scared, that was obvious, and, Bill supposed, reasonable. But still, he laughed. Not cruelly at her despair, but out of genuine amusement.

She pulled him down to the floor, and through the chinks of light the clothing provided him, Bill saw the commotion. Brutally, policemen pushed and cuffed patrons of the shop, the owner down on the ground. Bill made sympathetic eye contact with him, green eyes meeting hazel. Quickly, he looked away.

"We've got to get out of here."

Really? Bill thought sarcastically. ’Cause I thought I would just arse around a bit before strolling out… But now, he guessed, with an upset woman clinging to his chest, was not a good time to joke.

“Hold tight to me. I have a plan.” Bill assured her.

Really, there was no plan. But there were dressing rooms, and as the cops made their way to the back, eating away at their escape route, Bill had no choice but to whisk his partner into one. “Quickly, in here.” Bill pointed to a pastel pink door. Inside was tight; so tight, in fact, that, even with the wall flat to his back, his shopping partner was pressed to him just to fit. He could feel the adrenaline in her body emanating in heat waves, her heavy breath from running.

“Safe.” Bill said too soon, letting out a sigh, his head rolling back to rest on the wall. “You okay?”

But urgent footprints told Bill they weren’t alone. “Montrez-vous! Qui est ici?”

Bill could hear the officers kicking open dressing room doors, each one closer to his and his friend’s hideout. Holding tight to her, he looked around for an exit.

There, above them was a window just big enough for the woman to squeeze through. He was suddenly grateful for the creepy penitent Parisian stores had for natural light in changing areas. “Pardon me,” Bill said, squeezing past the lady, reaching, scaling his way up the wall. Wrapping the leather jacket around his arm, he punched through the glass. Clearing the shards out of the way, he lifted her to the ledge. “Take your bracelet and your hat and get yourself out. It’s not too far down. Just jump. You’ll be fine.”

It was an empty promise, but wasn’t a bruised rib was better than life in jail?

[Deleted]

Andi Foster

She was attracted to a bad *ss, and yet, never was one. Andi had spent most of her days trying to reach her career. She had never gotten to socialize or live out her 'wild child' years. So in the world of getting away from the police, she was entirely clueless.

"Hold tight to me. I have a plan." Some people were not. The entire time he had seemed too calm, or entertained by all of this. She would for sure be having a laughing fit over this- but just afterward and if they both were still in one piece, not cuffed in a cop car. Andi nodded with round eyes. They had hit it off right away, but this was coming down to trust. For some reason, she had no problem doing so whatsoever.

Andi held tight to him like she told, holding onto his arm as he lead her toward the dressing rooms. She was looking every which way, feeling her heart not being able to keep a beat but a chaotic mess of thumps. So this is what a heart attack pretty much felt like, right?

Her now, literal partner in crime and soon to be fugitive, pointed to one of the dressing room doors that matched the color of her new hat. "Quickly in here." She rushed inside with him where they were standing in the minuscule room, which did nothing to help her claustrophobia. Andi could feel her neck begin to tighten and her knees lock. She could feel her mind beginning to panic for a different reason now, as she usually got sick when she was in such small places. She felt his chest hitting up against hers and their bodies were practically melded into each other. Feeling his heart beat and heavy breathing actually helped her calm down in the sense that she was not alone and he was breathing and live, which meant that she was too. It was such a weird thought process, she knew, but Andi didn't care as long as she didn't start having a panic attack in the middle of a getaway. How lame would that be?

"Safe. You okay?"

Andi attempted to answer him but her eyes were focused downward, trying to maintain a clear mind. The noise and the space were making it pretty freaking difficult.

“Montrez-vous! Qui est ici?”

They were beginning to kick into the dressing rooms! Andi's hand reached out to grab a hold of him for some level of comfort. They held onto one another tightly as he looked around, but she continued to keep her eyes tightly shut and her head down to where it was almost leaning up against his chest. Andi was not some damsel in distress, but the added panic and claustrophobic attack were leaving her completely immobile. Everything was now on this guy's shoulders and she had never been so terrified about not being in control and so grateful that she had asked for help with her clasp in her entire life. Whether or not he found them a way out- Andi knew that this was the closest she would have ever got to escaping if she were alone.

"Pardon me." He said finally, moving past her. Andi let out a huge breath grateful that he had thought of something and she could breathe a little better. Rolling her head onto the wall, she slid down a little bit, watching as he began wrapping his leather jacket around his arm. She looked at the window and knew where he was going with this. Wincing as the glass shattered, she stood tall ready to make her move. A new found energy picked up in her body. He was brilliant!

With his strong arms he helped lift her up to the window. Andi grasped it with her hands, looking down. It was not the farthest but she knew it would hurt. Still, a little pain was nothing compared to what was about to happen if they didn't move. “Take your bracelet and your hat and get yourself out. It’s not too far down. Just jump. You’ll be fine.” He directed her. Andi nodded, swallowing hard. The dressing room door next to them exploded, and she winced, tightening her grip around him. It was now or never.

"You too. Okay?" She said breathlessly, and with something in her, the fire and the adrenaline burning in her, Andi reached down and kissed him on the cheek. It was a scary thought that this may not work out and would never get to thank him or something, so she wanted to do it somehow now.

Andi Foster lifted herself up with his help and climbed out the window. She knew to not hold her breath and keep trying to focus only on her breath and have control. She counted to three in her head and was sent out. It all happened so quickly, and Andi held onto her hat as her body forcefully dropped to the cement ground. She let out a moaning grunt as she fell onto her side, no dance classes ever teaching her how to jump gracefully out of a window. Thankfully she hadn't hurt her head, just the side of her torso and arm. Holding her side, she winced as she sat up. She wasn't going to leave without him.

When he thudded onto the ground, she heaved a sigh of relief. "If we didn't get battle bruises from this, I was going to be pissed anyways." She joked, managing to break into a smirk, the sweat beading down her forehead and the air outside feeling so good against her hot cheeks. Andi had managed to keep her hat she had walked in with, her new hat, and the bracelet. He had the tie and leather jacket. They were totally fugitives. Who were fine just where they were for a moment because the cops wouldn't look for them in the alley and they didn't look out of place lying down in an alley on this side of the Paris. Andi began cracking up into a fit of laughter that hurt her side, but she couldn't stop. How fun had this been! This was totally one for the books.

"Hi. I'm Andi Foster." Andi panted with a grin, holding out her hand to her partner in crime that she didn't even know the name of yet. "Now what's yours so I can give you a proper thank you."

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

William MaCarthy

Bill could feel the ground shake as police officers thundered about. Bill could hear the wood of dressing rooms splinter, the ultimate invasion of privacy as the doors crumpled to the ground with a clatter. One by one, the walls were pulverized like bottles in target practice, and each second was precious time wasted. He wanted to see the woman be lowered to safety. He wanted to see her run down the street with her illegal merchandise and go free. So why wasn’t she leaving? She gripped him tighter, and Bill forgot for a moment that they were on the cusp of being caught, of being fugitives. Bill forgot for a moment that this was not a time to smile as her fingertips pressed so tightly to his shirt, he swore he could feel her skin on his, penetrating through the fabric.

"You too. Okay?" she said, and Bill nodded, his hand stroking hers reassuringly, lingering just a moment too long. And in that moment, that moment that shouldn’t of existed, she leaned down and planted a harshly delicate, roughly smooth kiss on his cheek. He wanted to touch the spot where he lips were out of surprise and curiosity, but as the dressing room beside them was blasted to smithereens, he instead let her hand slip from his as she fell to the asphalt below.

Putting the tie and jacket on, he hoisted himself to ledge, the door kicking it as Bill slid himself off of safety, plummeting to the ground below. As he fell, his mind went blank, shutting itself off as he felt the wind rush through him and gravity wrapped her leaden arms around his waist. Below him, somewhere, was hard ground that would grab him mercilessly. It would hurt, but it would be a return to harsh, brutal safety.

He softened his knees and prepared for the force that greeted him at the bottom. Meeting it as a distant acquaintance, Bill stood, dusting himself off. He was on solid ground, stable once more. But his first thought when he landed with a thud was ‘where is she? Is she safe?’ as he looked around for his companion. And there, beside him, she was. He smiled, glad she was okay. "If we didn't get battle bruises from this, I was going to be pissed anyways." she said and Bill laughed. If he had a quid for every battle scare given him, he wouldn’t need Damien to pay rent.

"Hi. I'm Andi Foster." The woman, Andi Foster, said, stretching out a hand, red and chapped from landing. Gingerly, Bill took it as to not aggravate the already tender, scratched skin. Andi Foster, eh? Now Bill knew what name the cops would be putting under her mug shot. Still dazed from what had just happened, Bill only smiled. "Now what's yours so I can give you a proper thank you." She said, reminding him what reality felt like.

“William. Bill.” He said, correcting himself. They had just committed a crime together, so there was no need to be formal with her. “Hi, Andi Foster. Need a ride home?”

[Deleted]

Andi Foster

Her hand felt like it was already in flames, the cement not playing nice. For some reason when he took Andi's hand to meet her handshake, she had forgotten entirely about the pain. What was his hand, some human band-aid? Maybe it was the fact that after the most thrilling, suspenseful, heart racing moment in Andi's life, she was completely entranced in who this guy was that she had just spent it with.

“William. Bill.” So, there it was. Her partner in crime now with a name. Andi was always the one to laugh at cliche's that tried to be so profound, and this may be one, but she had just met Bill but for some reason she felt like she had known him for awhile. She looked up into his eyes with a smile, the way the sunset hit against his features making her really realize how much his eyes did spark with that tie.

“Hi, Andi Foster. Need a ride home?”

Lifting herself off the ground, Andi grinned, adjusting her hat on her head. Sliding her arm around his, she looked at her fellow fugitive. "And so Bonnie and Clyde make their getaway."

OOC: END! <3