Locked Out (Martzel/Reese)

[blueeyeddevil]

Reese Cordova

Reese had just come back from rehearsal and it had really not been her day at all. Her alarm clock had failed to go off on time this morning resulting in her having no time to stop for cup of coffee as she'd planned. It had also resulted in her missing the metro train to work and had made her late. When she'd finally managed to get there the lace on her shoes had broken and she had run out of the house so quickly that morning that she'd forgotten to bring extra. She'd missed her cue and gotten chewed out for it after that. And then on top of everything she'd gone and stubbed her toe when trying to catch the train home.

It had been a horrid mess of a day but she could look forward to partaking in some fat free frozen yogurt and a nice long shower. She was sure that would be plenty enough to make her feel better. She dug around in her bag as she searched for her keys...only to find a hole in the bag where the should have been. Her blue eyes were on the verge of tears. She was locked out of her own apartment! She couldn't even go in to change. She was stuck out in the hall wearing her leotard and practice skirt, her hair still in the tight bun she wore...thank God she'd managed to remember her bright pink converse that she wore to and from practice. Though that was a small comfort.

She sunk down to the floor in front of her door, hanging in her head in defeat. In highly uncharacteristic display of anger, she gave the door a swift kick. She realized she probably looked like a child having a temper tantrum, but at this point she was too upset to care.

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Martzel Jimenez

Working at the Louvre didn’t make Martzel feel like an artist the way he had hoped it would. Being surrounded by the greatest works known to man wasn’t some spiritual experience, it didn’t bring him closer to the artistic gods that had passed. Instead, his suit was tight and his feet hurt and he felt more like a businessman than a free spirit.

But the one thing this job gave him that working as an art dealer in Malaga didn’t was the funds and free time to create his own art (with money left over to send back home). What he was making wasn’t spectacular by any means, but it was fun and relaxing. Or rather, the art part was fun, but the carrying the supplies (a brief case and fifty hard-back books) up the stairs to his apartment was not. On the last step, he slipped, the books tumbling forth and the briefcase opening with a loud crash. He swore under his breath and looked up. His eyes fell upon a woman who looked more frustrated than he was (after all, they were just books. He could pick them up again.). She kicked the door violently with more power than he thought a small woman could. He chuckled, his eyes wide with amused surprise. From his pile of books, he called out to her. “You know, senorita, I’m no expert, but I don’t think kicking it will open it. Is there anything I can do to help?”

Though, when Martzel thought about it, he didn’t look capable of aid, laying atop a pile of wayward books, empty briefcase open and wonky on its hinges. But the offer stood out in the open like a cow in pasture. She seemed upset and, seeing as she was his neighbor, offering help was the least he could do, and an interesting story to tell his mother about how he met his neighbor down the hall.

[blueeyeddevil]

Reese Cordova

Reese was small and slender so her kick to the door didn't do anything more than make a bit of racket. Surprisingly though, it did help to vent her frustration in such a way. Now instead of being angry she was simply annoyed...with herself, with the lack of a key, with the whole rotten day. Behind her she heard a loud crash. Obviously someone had been witness to her little outburst and the realization made her freeze with embarrassment. She found herself rooted to the spot where she sat on the floor.

“You know, senorita, I’m no expert, but I don’t think kicking it will open it." came a voice and she slowly turned around, half expecting to see Santiago. The accent was the same but it didn't quite sound like him though. "Is there anything I can do to help?”

The voice turned out to belong to rather cute guy probably her own age who lay at the top of the stairs, surrounded by a mess of books. He looked to be in about as much distress as she was. It made her blue eyes widen with surprise and she bit her lip with a small smile, cheeks going pink now.

"Unless you happen to be a locksmith or have a spare key to my apartment, I don't think so. Apparently you need a key to get inside..." she said with a teasing shrug. She got to her feet and moved to help him gather up the scattered books. "Looks like you took a bit of a spill...are you all right?" she asked

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Martzel Jimenez

The woman turned to face him from her seated position, her cheeks burning bright pink, the kind of pink that stretched across the sky at dawn. She smiled softly and called out to him as he pulled himself to his feet on the top of the stairwell. "Unless you happen to be a locksmith or have a spare key to my apartment, I don't think so. Apparently you need a key to get inside..." She said sarcastically and Martzel snickered softly before rolling his lips in, embarrassed, hoping she didn’t think he was laughing at her.

She stood and crossed to him and Martzel could see that she was very petite, even at her full height. He looked down at her. She bent to pick up the books. "Looks like you took a bit of a spill...are you all right?”

“Si. Yes. Thank you. Here,” he helped her gather the remaining books, both their arms full with a precarious balance. “How about you call a locksmith and you can wait in my apartment until he arrives. Besides, I do need to get to know my neighbors.”

In Malaga, he knew every person on his street by name, walked dogs for the woman who lived a block over, and was greeted personally by local shop owners, but here, he knew no one. He was a stranger in a strange land that was becoming more and more like paradise by the day. He had to start somewhere, so why not now with the woman in his apartment building?

[blueeyeddevil]

Reese Cordova

She smiled at the man as he laughed at her use of sarcasm. She wasn't normally that sarcastic, but it was also a sort of defense against the terrible day she'd been having. If she could joke around about the situation then it couldn't get to her. She was glad the man appreciated the joke...too many people would have just looked at her like she was stupid.

She moved to help the man gather up his books. It didn't seem like his day was going all that much better than hers he still had a smile on his face which Reese couldn't help but admire. She asked him if he was okay, as it looked like he'd tripped on the stairs...the top step had an overhang that you could easily catch your foot on if you weren't careful.

“Si. Yes. Thank you. Here,” he said, moving to grab up the rest of the books. “How about you call a locksmith and you can wait in my apartment until he arrives. Besides, I do need to get to know my neighbors.”

Her first thought was Santiago would go ballistic if he found out she'd gone into some stranger's apartment all by herself. But Reese considered herself a good judge of character. The man with the books seemed kind and sweet...whatever it was Santiago was afraid of her running into she sincerely doubted this man was it.

She nodded. "I'd appreciate that. Thank you," she said, accepting the invitation. "I'm Reese, by the way. I'd shake your hand but mine are kind of full at the moment," she said with a slight laugh, giving the books in her hand a little lift along with her ballet bag in the other. She followed him over to the apartment, practice skirt flowing behind her. It was an apartment that had been empty in the months she'd living there.

"Oh, you must have just moved in," she noted, smiling at him. "How are you liking it so far?"

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Martzel Jimenez

"I'd appreciate that. Thank you," the woman said with a soft, appreciative smile as she scooped up an armful of books. They piled high and covered her face, threatening to topple over and spill again. "I'm Reese, by the way. I'd shake your hand but mine are kind of full at the moment,"

Martzel laughed. “It is not a worry, senorita.” He said, balancing book in one hand as to unlock his door. “It is nice to put a name to a face, even if the face is covered by books. After you,” he said letting her under his arm to enter. “You may set them anywhere you wish.” He tossed the books and the briefcase to the wayside, coming over to Reese to help her set things down.

“Oh, you must have just moved in," Reese said, and Martzel nodded, motioning to his living room, stacked with boxes in various stages of unpack. "How are you liking it so far?"

“I like it, yes.” He said softly. “Very different from Spain. But very nice. Would you like to sit?” He led her to his couch, which was covered in fifty packs of new underwear and another empty briefcase. He pushed it off. “I see you are a dancer, yes?” he looked at her thin, gossamer skirt, bun, and pink legs. “Where?”

[blueeyeddevil]

Reese Cordova

She followed the man into the apartment, balancing the books she carried. It didn't really take that many before they started to stack up on Reese's small frame. She was managing fairly well though. It was just a matter of looking where she was going.

She introduced herself to her new neighbor, politely explaining she'd shake his hand were it not for the books she was holding.

“It is not a worry, senorita.” the man said with a laugh as he let them inside. “It is nice to put a name to a face, even if the face is covered by books. After you,” he said politely.

She smiled and headed inside, glancing around the place. There were lots of boxes and various odds and ends placed in random places around the room. It was obvious that that he'd just moved in rather recently. She knew what it was like to suddenly find yourself living in a new country by yourself. She asked him how he was liking it here in Paris.

“I like it, yes.” he said. “Very different from Spain. But very nice. Would you like to sit?”

She nodded and followed to the couch where he pushed aside what looked to be packs of underwear and a briefcase. She laughed softly in the "I've been there" kind of way. She'd only been in her apartment for about 6 months or so. There were still boxes in her closet that she hadn't opened.

She took a seat on the couch, folding her legs underneath her. “I see you are a dancer, yes?” he noted and she couldn't help but smile as she did whenever her profession came up. She loved her job! “Where?”

"I'm a ballerina with the Opera Garnier. I've been dancing practically my whole life and I've dreamed of being in a famous company like that! I love it," she beamed. "What about you? Is your job what brought you to Paris?"

She paused for a moment. "Oh, I don't think I got your name," she said and smiled at him again. "Lets try this again now that our hands are free. I'm Reese..." She held out a hand for him to shake.

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Martzel Jimenez

"I'm a ballerina with the Opera Garnier,” she explained as she took a seat. “I've been dancing practically my whole life and I've dreamed of being in a famous company like that! I love it!” her eyes lit up when she talked about her job and Martzel was enthralled. Anyone who loved their job that much was a passionate person. Those were Martzel’s favourite people. The other half of the world seemed like hollow shells of people, dusty casts of a body that the soul had left years ago from the hatred of their jobs. He had met those people and it was the saddest sight he’d ever seen. Reese was a breath of fresh air, a person so invested in their work that it became like an extra limb to her. "What about you? Is your job what brought you to Paris?"

Martzel smiled, about to tell her about his job when she spoke again, just as excitedly as before that he thought that maybe it wasn’t just her job she was passionate about, but life in general. "Oh, I don't think I got your name," she said and smiled at him again. "Lets try this again now that our hands are free. I'm Reese...” she offered a hand for his to take, and he obliged.

“Hello, Reese. It’s nice to meet you. My name is Martzel. I came to Paris to work at the Louvre.” His French was usually broken, but this was a line he practiced endlessly on the flight here. He said it flawlessly. But, like most successes in life, it was short lived.

“Water. Do you want water?”

[blueeyeddevil]

OOC: I'm sorry this has taken a bajillion years!!

Reese Cordova

She found herself very curious about the kind young man who had been willing to offer his own apartment as a waiting place for a tantrum throwing stranger. She found herself wanting to know more about him, starting with his profession. As usual, words were tumbling out of her mouth more quickly than she was able to think them through. she had to back track when she realized she had forgotten to even ask him his name which was sort of a vital part of the whole 'getting to know your neighbor' thing. He gave her a kind (very cute) smile that she couldn't help but return.

“Hello, Reese. It’s nice to meet you. My name is Martzel. I came to Paris to work at the Louvre.” he explained as he shook the hand that she had offered now that neither of them were tied up with holding books like before. The words were said in French but she'd been here long enough to pick up a good deal of the language. Though from the soundof it, Martzel was not a native of Paris (or anywhere in France) either, though he seemed have a good grasp on the language.

“Water. Do you want water?”he asked her kindly.

She nodded with a smile. "That sounds great, thank you," she declared. Again, Santiago was mentally scolding her for accepting drinks from virtual strangers, but she still didn't see anything in Martzel that would make her worried. He was (so far) a very genuine and nice person. "Your French is pretty impressive! It took me months to get it down when I moved here," she said with a laugh.

"So what do you do with the Louvre?" she asked, curiosity taking over again. She smiled as an idea struck her. "I'm going to guess that you're an artist...you've probably got a huge gallery coming up that you're preparing for."

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Martzel Jimenez

Reese complimented his French, and Martzel looked down sheepishly. It was an undeserved compliment. He had always had a knack for language. He didn’t work hard at learning French-- or Basque when he had learned that—it just came naturally. But he accepted the compliment politely before fetching Reese her water. “You’re French. It is very good, too.”

"So what do you do with the Louvre?" Reese asked, twirling the water between her fingers after a sip. Martzel was moments away from answering when she spoke again. "I'm going to guess that you're an artist...you've probably got a huge gallery coming up that you're preparing for."

“Yes and no,” Martzel said, sitting down once more. “I am the curator at the museum. We are setting up a large Dali exhibition at the moment. I am an artist, but not by trade. Used to be. I lived in a hovel of a home and was very happy. But I did not want Spain anymore. So I came to France, got a new job and live in a studio I like. Very happier now.” He looked her up and down once more, studying her. He would have loved to draw her: her soft jawline on a sheet of white, her big brown eyes looking up from the pages of his sketch book. He wanted to commit his neighbor’s likeness to memory.

He caught himself staring. “You are not French? Where are you from?”

[blueeyeddevil]

Reese Cordova

She looked at Martzel for a long moment and imagined him in a variety of careers. A chef, a lawyer, an architect...he really had the look of being just about anything. When he mentioned the Louvre, her mind immediately jumped the starving artist type. He seemed like he could fit that quite well too. It was really only a joking sort of guess, but she was surprised to find that she was not all that far off.

“Yes and no,” he told her as he sat down. “I am the curator at the museum. We are setting up a large Dali exhibition at the moment. I am an artist, but not by trade. Used to be. I lived in a hovel of a home and was very happy. But I did not want Spain anymore. So I came to France, got a new job and live in a studio I like. Very happier now.”

She smiled as she nodded in acknowledgement. "That's good! Curator at the Louvre...that's a very prestigious job. I must admit that I'm quite impressed," she said with a little giggle. "Though I'd love to see some of your personal work sometime. I'm sure you're quite excellent."

He seemed to look at her for a brief before saying in surprise, “You are not French? Where are you from?”

"I'm from London, England actually. I moved here a few years ago when I joined the Opera ballet corps," she explained with a hint of pride in her accomplishments. "I like to think of myself as an honorary Frenchman, though. I still struggle at times with the language...maybe English would be better for both of us?" She switched languages and asked, "What about you? You mentioned you were from Spain, correct?"

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Martzel Jimenez

"I'm from London, England actually. I moved here a few years ago when I joined the Opera ballet corps,” Reese said and Martzel smiled at how proud she seemed of this. She had a lot to be proud of and the way she smiled at the topic of ballet was infectious. He couldn’t help but to smile, too. "I like to think of myself as an honorary Frenchman, though. I still struggle at times with the language...maybe English would be better for both of us?"

Martzel bit his lip. English did not come easily to him. He barely spoke a word of it. "What about you? You mentioned you were from Spain, correct?" If Martzel were honest, which he often was, he would confess that the only words we understood in that phrase were ‘you’ and ‘Spain’, so he guessed and responded in French. “Yes. I am from Spain. Malaga.” To avoid her asking him something else in English, he spoke hastily once more.

“You said you wanted to see some of my art, yes?” He disappeared into the closet and gathered a carefully stacked portfolio of art work. “Here. You may look. Nothing in there is too incredible, but this is what I felt could come with me to Paris.” Gingerly, he handed her the large folder. “What do you think?”

[blueeyeddevil]

Reese Cordova

She could see in his expression that English was probably a worse option. His French had been really good though! She decided to make it easier on both of them and switch back to French the next time she spoke. She was curious though. He'd mentioned being from Spain. Santiago and his cousin had been the only other people she'd met that came from Spain. She felt sure that Martzel was having a little culture shock coming here to Paris. She certainly had when she'd first moved here from England.

“Yes. I am from Spain. Malaga.” he explained. He spoke quickly after that though. “You said you wanted to see some of my art, yes?” he said and she nodded enthusiastically. She watched him duck into a closet and pulled out several portfolios. “Here. You may look. Nothing in there is too incredible, but this is what I felt could come with me to Paris.” he told her as he handed it all to her.

Reese liked to think she knew a little something about art. She'd spent enough time around Damien to know when someone had talent. Martzel certainly did! She carefully flipped through each of the pages, transfixed and still for once, gazing at each of them in wonder.

“What do you think?” he asked her.

She looked up at him and grinned. "I think you were wrong about these not being incredible. These are absolutely beautiful," she told him, switching back to French. "I have a friend who teaches art at the University. I'm sure he'd love to see these! His style is somewhat different but he'll always appreciate great art. Do you mind if I snap a picture or two with my phone to show him?"

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Martzel Jimenez

"I think you were wrong about these not being incredible. These are absolutely beautiful," Reese said, her face lighting up like a candelabra.

“Gracias,” Martzel said proudly, but a little embarrassed. “You are kind.”

"I have a friend who teaches art at the University. I'm sure he'd love to see these! His style is somewhat different but he'll always appreciate great art. Do you mind if I snap a picture or two with my phone to show him?”

“Not at all,” said Martzel. “I would love to meet your friend. If he’s anything like you, I’m sure he is delightful.” Martzel didn’t know anyone in Paris except for Reese now and some people from work. Maybe getting in touch with another local would be good for Martzel, especially if that local was an artist. “What is his name? Your friend? Is he English, too?”

[blueeyeddevil]

Reese Cordova

She couldn't help but giggle a little at how embarrassed Martzel seemed by the praise she was giving him. He certainly shouldn't have been ambarrassed! He was a very talented guy and he deserved to acknowledged for incredible art. She knew Damien would love to see these and asked out of politeness if it would be all right for her to take a few pictures of them with her phone, grateful when he gave her permission.

She set to work, snapping the pictures with her phone and trying her best to truly capture everything. “I would love to meet your friend. If he’s anything like you, I’m sure he is delightful.” Martzel said. “What is his name? Your friend? Is he English, too?”

A blush had covered her cheeks at his compliment. She nodded in accent to his question. "He is, actually! His name is Damien Michaud. He is such a sweetheart...I'm sure he'd love to get to know you," she assured him. "I honestly can't wait to hear what he says about your work!" An idea suddenly struck her. "Maybe you and him could see about setting a field trip to Louvre for his students?!" She laughed and shook her head. "I'm sorry...getting ahead of myself. I'll definitely have to invite you the next time we have lunch together, though!"