bloated ego------------------------------

[Killian Everard Waldorf]

Bookshops, apparels, extended panel displays allotted along the streets and flustered gaggles rushing about almost everywhere and aimlessly; the panorama encircling him was smothering sufficiently to render him breathless as he treaded past the huddled throngs hindering his pathway. Livid? To say the least, the bloke was not in a most amiable nature, though quite the complete opposite to it, as to even feel nettled.

Wearing a pair of sunglasses to block the sun’s shimmer, he was in a reticent distant demeanour, close to unravel into havoc. In matter of seconds, the mental imagery of his highly physically attractive psychiatrist cropped up in his mind, along with the admonishing words ‘Dunked in a sea of people and yet you are alone. Find that solitary confinement whenever you’re surrounded, Waldorf’ reverberating ever so softly that it hummed close to his ears. He abided by the behest and let a gust of oxygen through his lungs as he inhaled deeply, letting it out past a few instances. Still donned in his scholar indumentum, with a scarf around his neck, he aimed some cursory glances at the stores he walked past – quite nonchalantly.

To stress his taste was exquisite, would wane the standards he intended for - reared in Scotland by a wealthy, aristocratic bundle he referred to as his kin, etiquette was a basis and the radix to his bearing, visage and education. Despite the conspicuous black blotch in the shape of a cross at his right forearm (which was exposed, regardless of the cold environment) that was deemed as a stigma of the obstreperous gang. A rebel? Indeed, was him. Not completely amoral and tipped down the downfall of his livelihood, but swerving from the normalcy of living. Ergo, he wouldn’t be lured by bargain shops or the like, but by something more sophisticated.

Killian’s footsteps ushered him through the entrance to an exclusive side of the Centre, which in his words would be the most decent niche of the whole edifice, although it didn’t quite sufficed his expectations. He entered the place with a posh billboard like fringe and relied on his instinct to walk towards the exhibit for plaid shirts (an oft pleasure of his), besides a set where shoeing was settled. His eyes roved across the hung set and fixated on the silhouette of a gal that, he surmised, should work in there.

“Would you mind fetching a pair of these for me, love?” he said pointing firmly at the pair of boots that seemed befitting for his whim, “should be a twelve… or so. My feet tend to swell and shrink on different climate, so I always opt for them to be smidge slack” he simpered at her – something inwardly told him he mightn’t be talking like that to a total stranger that, perhaps, just happened to be at the store at the time – nonetheless, affluent characters, as his, were prone to be obnoxious.

tag:  Selina Taylor

[Selina Taylor]

    Selina didn’t often visit this neck of Kalispell, but she’d been feeling slightly adventurous and she hadn’t been in stores like these for quite some time. Her favorite haunts for buying clothes were still thrift shops, but she could afford to come buy things in this neck of the woods for work, social events, and whatever else. Usually she only came this way when she needed to, but today she’d thought to explore without the pressure of business looming over her head. Her hair was loose and down around her shoulders, the dark brown complimenting the pine green color of her sweater. Her black jeans outlined her figure to her advantage and she wasn’t unaware of how people saw her.

    She walked into a few shops and greeted the workers that she’d seen on previous visits with a warm smile and occasional flirtatious suggestion. She had been raised to be extremely polite to those that worked in the retail or service industry and Selina had never had trouble relating to others. She enjoyed the social aspect of shopping, and she was usually remembered by those she met, even if it was only a brief encounter. Selina entered a shop she hadn’t been in before and explored aimlessly, not finding much to her taste. She hadn’t expected to find anything today though, so she felt no disappointment, only mild curiosity as to what else there might be.

    Selina was looking at a fine pair of boots when she heard someone speak up. She turned and smiled at him until his words fully registered. She had to bite back a laugh before she could answer him. He was handsome and his smug demeanor only amused her, “The only time I’d give a damn about some part of your body swelling would be when you’re in my bed,” she replied with a lazy smirk. “But if you really want those boots… well, perhaps we could work something out,” she offered suggestively.

    Would she actually get the boots for him? No, but he could likely figure that out on his own. Selina wasn’t one to waste opportunity however, and she had had enough going on at work lately that she was ready to just let go of it and forget the world of AMA vs. Helios for a while. She could take all the tension, and part of her enjoyed it, but she also just needed days where she could get away from the constant strain for a few hours. The ignorantly violent weren’t going to disappear or go away when she was shopping, but she didn’t have to spend 24/7 worrying about them either.

[Killian Everard Waldorf]

Lurking at his stead was not a practise that Killian mastered, really, but more of a habit of fidgeting rather than actual bustling. Detecting some speck of neglecting in her response, the bloke was taken a little aback ‘in your bed?’ he was a little gobsmacked by the implying beneath that inference – he didn’t look fondly at ulterior insinuations. Whenever scouting for a decent attire to don himself with, he didn’t include those of ‘tenders-hitting-on-him’ situations. If she worked in the store, it wouldn’t take her more than 5 minutes to pick the correct box from the rear storage and bring it to him – alas, she should be a deviant employee, and Killian knew how to treat with them. It was then when she referred to the boots as an innuendo to something else, of a lewd character, and the bloke’s eyes popped a smidge along with a short chuckle. With his sight hiding behind the sunglasses, no one could tell where it was focused on, truly, “You wish…” he coughed and disguised the sentence to become completely unintelligible and impossible to understand, yet completely obvious to him.

He strolled a little through the store, having particular interest in some garments he couldn’t help but keeping a hand at – shirts, mostly. ‘No boots, then’ he pondered, having a light stride across the floor, just fumbling about the fabric, watching the tags and discerning the branding on each. His father had taught him to inspect every single element with thorough care and to judge the quality of the materials over the name that was embroidered to the wool or the cotton texture. “Should you find it eerie I had thought you worked here, but it was the first assumption that crossed my mind since you’re unaccompanied and roaming through the bloke’s section” he scrutinised another piece of clothing before finally turning his frame towards her, “What has actually piqued my curiosity is… what are you actually doing, in here?” he puckered the lips softly and arched a brow at her, in a pretty intrusive inquiry. Killian was not one to pry on alien affairs, yet this one seemed to have perched his attention, “I don’t think you’re just here to attempt a seduction at random men passing by” Killian studied psychology, and thusly, he liked to know what made someone tick.

In a matter of seconds, he was soaked up by the scene, and even the elements girding them had been settled aside. The bloke got closer to her and analysed every reaction, and even then, without his awareness, he began to read her mind, just scraping through the fragments of thoughts he could somehow muster from that muddled head, “What’s your story?” he muttered, taking off the glasses and displaying a deadpan stare at her, “What’s behind of that façade you impose to yourself?” off the cliché of every other psychologist, he didn’t mean to sound redundant and to prevaricate, but he was authentically intrigued by her sudden intromission. Killian believed there was a moment to everything and a motive to it, and he always seemed keen to figure it out.

tag:  Selina Taylor

[Selina Taylor]

    Selina grinned at his garbled words and tilted her head slightly as she studied him in interest, “Pardon? I didn’t quite catch that,” she offered with a wry smirk. She could more than guess what he meant, and she was entertained easily. Selina shook her head in amusement as he walked away and glanced back up at the boots. They were nice, and she’d buy them herself if she was in the mood to actually shop, as it was, she was far more interested in looking around. The men’s button down shirts were always so clean cut, that she had a weakness for buying them even when she didn’t really need new clothing… so she should avoid that area. Naturally she drifted towards it instead and was admiring a particularly lovely dark blue shade of fabric when the stranger spoke up again.     
    She almost didn’t notice as she’d thought he’d moved on, but her head perked up as she glanced back his way. Selina shrugged at his explanation, since she hadn’t truly minded his mistake. “No worries.” There were times she would have cared, but he had piqued her interest far more than her ire. Selina almost laughed again at his presupposition and smiled up at him, “That’s a good idea though...” she returned easily enough, mischief dancing in her eyes. “Perhaps I should start visiting stores in this area more often,” she teased.

    He was fascinating, and she didn’t think she’d met one quite like him in Kalispell yet. As he continued she faced him more fully, slightly wary as he approached her directly. No matter how amusing he may have been, he was still a stranger and Selina was always cautious with strangers who made the first advance. Sure, she’d propositioned him earlier, but that had been on her terms. Right now, everything was on his initiative so she was slightly more careful as a result.

    His questions were upfront, and he had no tact, but she liked that. She was rather straightforward and had a tendency for bluntness herself. “Careful, you might be biting off far more than you can handle,” she warned with an impish smirk. “Besides, a lady has to have some standards. I mean, I only get personal after the third or fourth fuck,” she replied with as deadpan an expression as she could muster before cracking a smile. She couldn’t help it.

    As he mentioned a facade, Selina’s mien turned almost predatory, “We all have our secrets, but that’s what makes it fun, no?” she asked in turn. She didn’t mind his open curiosity at all, but that didn’t mean she’d be answering his questions either. Well... she could. But she highly doubted he’d get the information he was looking for. “However, if you really want to get me know me better, how about you buy me lunch?” she offered instead, her tone and expression once more lighthearted and friendly.

[Killian Everard Waldorf]

As deceptive as scarce things were, gals were an utter conundrum to the chap, whose piercing gaze was now pinned to hers, in terms of actual expectation. May they be slender, curvy and plump or simply as quaint as a casual travel to the nearest town, he couldn’t help but sense enthrallment amongst them, as to even stay perplexed in awe before that specimen that seemed ever so captivating to the soul and the senses. Regardless of the primal instinct that reigned his limbic system, he was not one to cede before the strain of such chemicals merge and surrender to the oxytocin and the endorphins segregated by their kin. Yet again, he was a male specimen of his own race and still succumbed before the natural processes of living. ‘quite cryptic’ that was the word that eclipsed the pugnacious deems that preceded the banter now taking place, where not only she had begun gallivanting through the establishment, but even heedless of his presence, ‘what now?’ the thought reverberated through his head one of twice before having him eyeing down at her and her bearing, for which he could generate the misconception of paradox.

A lady engulfed far much more than people reckoned. The concept itself was beyond thorough fathoming and assimilation, for yet it was even possible for the actual sort to unapprehend the implications of being such. Refined, collected, bland, cultured, poised, impeccable and frail as nothing else was, as to believe to be comprised of porcelain. ‘resorting to the assertion ‘after-the-third-or-fourth-fuck’ wasn’t classy at all’ he rolled his eyes at the mention for utilising ‘lady’ and swearing at the very oration. Though he couldn’t quite utter a syllable before she exteriorised her very own deems about him and his alleged flirting. ‘No. I am not courting you’ he minded, having a quick ounce of time to close his eye lids and hold an intake of oxygen. She was suggesting a tryst in the company of a meal, for which, Killian wasn’t even up or in the mood for – nonetheless, manners requested his compliance, and so he should abide by morals. An invitation couldn’t be publicly disdained, as so aristocratic behaviour dictated.

“I do not resort to the use of such term in reference to have intercourse with a woman” he construed aloud for her to listen at, “…although, there is nothing more mesmerising than a smile” the bloke pocketed his sunglasses, stowing one of the temples within the compartment and letting the rest hung loosely about his thigh, “When you find yourself amidst a masquerade, in a parade of feigned expressions, paper faces and people calling it life, then life itself becomes a ruse” he spoke, darting his pupils to another piece of clothing that drew him closer. “I am obliged to please any gal’s wishes in regards of decorousness, as such as supper” he indicated, glomming back at her before heaving a perched shirt that he surmounted about his chest as if he was donned with it. It was a light denim clip buttons shirt with a country fashion décor “Does it suit me?” he queried with a pair of arched brows that hinted of a smug smile that grew wider and ampler across his features.

tag:  Selina Taylor

[Selina Taylor]

    Selina had never once in her life considered herself to be any kind of a lady, and any who suggested she might be often got a wry smile or a shake of her head. The only times she ever applied the word to herself was in a blatant disregard for what most perceived the word to mean. Her words had been deliberate, but perhaps only those who knew her well would catch the sardonic humor laced within such a sentiment.

    Selina smirked slightly and met his gaze squarely as he seemed to disapprove of her language, “Well then, what else do you call ‘fucking’?” she asked in interest. Perhaps she was mocking him, just a little, but she couldn’t resist. Selina had dealt with many who looked down on her for a variety of reasons, and her ways of dealing with them could be harsh, so as far as she was concerned, she was being gentle. His next words, however caught her a bit off guard. She couldn’t tell if he was being sincere or not, and she looked up at him in curiosity. He was difficult to read. At one moment he seemed standoffish and condescending, and at another he was seemingly… complimenting her?

    Selina had no idea how she should react to him. At his next words however, Selina grinned, “Life is a ruse. The only question is how well you use said 'ruse' to your advantage,” she returned easily. After all, no one was totally honest, or at least no one she knew. Selina glanced up at him and wondered if his offer regarding lunch was sincere… but then decided she didn’t much care. Free food was free food. Even when she was earning a six figure salary she never turned down free food. It was a habit she’d picked up back when she had wondered if they’d have enough food to last the week, and she still hadn’t kicked it despite her change in fortune.

    “How noble of you,” she teased. ‘Obliged’... he truly was an enigma. Who was obliged to buy a stranger dinner? “Perhaps I’ll keep that in mind and demand more food from you next time...” she joked as her hand gently trailed down the fabric of a silk tie. She then studied him and the shirt he’d picked out for a brief moment before nodding, “It does. If you need any help trying it on… or taking it off, feel free to let me know,” she offered with a flirtatious grin. After all, despite his puzzling behavior, he was still a rather attractive devil.

[Killian Everard Waldorf]

Edged towards the gaudiness of a gilded outwear for a facade, it was easy to mire in a golden sea. It was not about the strictness that such world withheld or the mare magnum of poised stances and such, but the absolute mental state of assiduous strain that submitted the mind and its structure. Etiquette stemmed from its very core on the forged beliefs of those whose livelihoods were goaded by it - the socialité. Killian was not an exception to such rules, and he still waded his way through it, with as much class as he could collect from both empirical and idealist flanks, where he had been carved to become whatever effigy he was now. He didn't deem himself a gentleman, but a merge of haughtiness and feigned rebellious demeanour that couldn't be pleased by any possible mean - the bloke snubbed at almost everything before sight, and he was ludicrously enchanting to those other phoney beings hedging him. He scoffed inwardly at those, yet he didn't walk astray either, just slightly dishevelled.



Waldorf yanked a piece of clothing to prove it's endurance upon rough conditions, and simpered at the gal when she asked about his labelling selections. Hadn't he just said 'intercourse' aloud for her to harken at it? Probably not a pair of functioning ears, but two holes that served for a different purpose - either that, or a slow processing of the information provided. Killian let his roving eyes landed on her with something close to a pursing of the lips - he wasn't willing to answer such preposterous question. How do you name your todger? Killian wouldn't ever resort to such tacky habits. Although he would consider 'destructor' as a possible adressing tag. " A gentleman does not name it. His memory is always blurred in such affairs. There's no name for either a sybaritic tryst or a blending of souls led by something more powerful than lechery and debauchery " he let a pause lodged in the conversation, " I would only refer to these incidents as fleeting encounters " again he was clutching another garment - pretending she was not there, yet despite of their exchanged words.



Being an existentialist as he was, every concept of reality was disclosed to him, as so was every purpose that followed. Calling life a ruse was not the best reference, though he couldn't fetch anything else from the mare magnum of thoughts hovering inside his head, by then. " Henceforth, a dulled existence " whatever interest she might have roused in the bloke vanished as the words escaped her lips; Killian was authentic in his very own fabricated demeanour - albeit he experienced displeasure in the protocol of things, he knew them by heart and he couldn't help but to act accordingly. " The only thrill about such matter lies in unveiling the mystery beneath the masks, but I've ran out of motivation for such " whether she knew it or not, she was not achieving what she endeavoured for. Being as he was, the sod couldn't make up his mind quick about something; as fickle as a leaf twirling aimlessly with the wind.



" Manners precede people, and forge them as individuals " he pointed out, without much adherence to any other theme. Beyond brusque, an invitation left open meant more than insouciance and negligence - it was a social contract that was not tangible and that couldn't be broken without execrable consequences. Killian was not a person to dismiss such conditions to a contract - for the most imaginary or virtual it could be. And yet again she resorted to a lewd behaviour, forcing a wry simper upon the Scottish factions. ' what does she intend to ' he mused over the recent events. " I've always been independent enough to care on such affairs on my own " the thin simper faded and he put down the denim shirt and picked another, nestling carefully in his cupped hand below as he felt the texture of the woolen sweater.



" Should it be now or later? " he queried quite curtly as he began inspecting the clothes in his hands, " depends on what you're willing to. Should it be supper? Should it be brunch? Should it be a timeless meal? " he stared at her and let her emulate him. Whatever trace of amusement was gone from his countenance, and you could tell that by his almost conspicuous scowl. A sassy treatment was not the correct manner to address a man of his calibre.

tag:  Selina Taylor