"Desire begins in the mind. Cleopatra, she could seduce a man at twenty paces, without revealing an inch of Flesh" - Paola Frango, Dangerous Beauty

The rain still howled as the wind blew through the Parish, and everyone was safely inside. Everyone, of course, except Eleni. She couldn't sleep after the strange encounter with Marius. Staying in the sitting room of the hotel was too tempting. Eleni had to be careful. It was the last thing she truly wanted, and yet, it was what was needed. Especially with the tattooed Casanova parading around the hotel, claiming to know her, discretion was the better part of valour if she did intend this place to be her sanctuary.

Eleni's reaction was an unexpected one. She didn't know much about Marius. In most ways, he knew so little of her that it was hard to tell if he merely desired her, or something more. There was no way for him to suspect the desires that overpowered her were not as simple as they appeared to be. There were hints, perhaps, but there were equally strange things about him too. The fact he was always hot but didn't seem bothered, the ring on his finger, the guilt in his eyes when he returned Eleni's flirtations. There was more than the eye could see. Already, she cared too much to hurt him.

Eleni couldn't have the things she wanted from Marius, not yet, and the longing made her hear his heartbeat echoing through the old hotel. There were more natural ways, ways that soothed the vicious, savage need that controlled her as her elegant heels clicked through the violent gusts of wind and rain.

Even before she steps out into the raging storm, Eleni decides to travel toward her new home. She carries a bag with her, thinking if she was going to sneak out, it might as well be with a few things that make her feel as if she indeed has a place in the world to call home. She doesn't think of it as running from the hotel but walking toward the beginning of a new life. It would be one thing the movers won't have to handle for her. Eleni idly wonders if Marius had been serious. Would he come around to see her once they no longer shared a building? Would it make it easier on both of them if she just drifted off into her little space?

Eleni finds herself startled by passing a stranger wandering in the wind and rain, just as she is. Her eyes make contact with his, a bit curious. She isn't interested enough to stop, nor to speak, not until his bulky figure collides with hers. 'Good night to you, Monsieur." She offers the greeting with a cheerful note in her voice. As always, Eleni provides a small incline of her head when saying hello. There is a heavy hint of sarcasm in her words,  waiting for an apology, It was not polite to walk into others without a word.

Too many minutes go by, and Eleni decides she is indeed the bigger person. Being the bigger person seems to mean she wasn't getting an apology, so she begins to speak in a more pointed tone. "Not many people dare to be out in this weather. Are you alright?" She manages to look somewhat concerned for the man as her eyes study his figure for signs of injury--or that he was the type to injure someone. Her voice is gentle and melodic, but not soft. It is a way of speaking that carries a particular strength to it.

The man takes a brief look around, apparently not noticing the approaching woman at first. He wasn't by any means 'shifty', but 'curious' was perhaps plausible. Grinding his teeth without realising, he gnaws upon a match and spits a heavy, black gauze onto the ground. "Apologies." He stops in his tracks at the sound of her voice and narrowly avoids bumping right into her altogether. At least, that's what he appears to think. "I didn't see you there."

In fact, Victor doesn't even consider the cold or rain or that other people would be out at two in the morning. He wasn't feeling it, or anything. The alcohol running through his system followed by a few lines of coke given to him by one of his girls kept him warm enough. He perhaps could have done with slipping a jacket on, if for no other reason than keeping up appearances. Why bother, though? He was what he was, and everyone knew it.

"I should have brought a jacket out with me, should I not?  One lives here long enough, and storms become second nature. " The brute of a man chuckles, his beard swaying with a heavy breeze, and he shrugs. The British accent he carries is deep, perhaps thoughtful, and well paced. Nothing the man says comes about as being 'rushed'. There is something incongruous between his voice and his demeanour, the cultured accent belonging to a man with a toothpick who would spit on the ground in front of ladies.

"I was in a hurry to get out, perhaps, and forgot! I think it's time I got a new one anyway, hm? Better that than freezing myself to death. What brings you out in this weather?" He questions Eleni in return, brow arching skyward expectantly. A grin is slyly painting itself onto his face as he looks at her. It is not a grin born of joy.  It is instead a weapon: thin, curved and blade-like upon one side. Victor notices the small woman is carrying bags and moving at a pace that suggests she is in a hurry.

He studies her without sound. She is too old to be a runaway, too clean for a junkie, too polished for a hooker. Likely another broad who had enough of screaming brats and punches thrown her way at home, he thinks, casting a look toward the bag. He could use new girls, and this one is beautiful, even if she was a few years older than he usually likes. There is something about her, and he zeroes in on it immediately.

The raven-haired woman tosses him a charming smile while he speaks. She can almost hear his thoughts when she tries, though not precisely. His mind is loud and uninhibited, making him more than a little vulnerable to the likes of her. Eleni represses a snort of laughter. Twenty-three is not old. He is right about her, though. She'd grown tired of those things, even if it had been long ago. Eleni smirks, as she realises he is looking for his own victim. She didn't count on the Victors of the world to defend her when she truly needed it, and she certainly doesn't trust them now.

She notices that people often seem to live in their little worlds while milling about the Parish. Eleni had learned many years ago not to pay much attention to strange people or those who don't see her as she passes. Though she wasn't born that way, she'd become a city girl at her core. However, the frequency with which others in the Parish are unaware of her is starting to give her a peculiar invisibility complex. She distrusts the feeling. More often than not, the real danger is silent.

Eleni can often hear thoughts and feel emotion, if she is close enough and if they are coming from the right kind of people. "Ah, it is quite alright!" Eleni's lips turn up in a beguiling manner, but like him, she does not seem bothered by the cold or the rain, which is like ice when the wind blows it toward her pale skin.

"I am new to town, and I started wandering. Of course, then this infernal rain started coming from the sky." Eleni needs to buy an umbrella. "Is it always like this here? It has been cold every day since I've arrived, so much so that nobody will come out of their homes." She frowns at this because a lack of people makes Eleni feel rapidly bored.

She tilts her head, offers a slight smile, and says softly, "Indeed, you need a coat, and I need an umbrella! A shopping trip is in order, yes?". She laughs merrily, the charming lilt of her French accent and naivete of her tone making the man reconsider her age. She could just as well be wearing too much makeup.

Perhaps one could, in the most comical way, question whether the sheer size of Victor's beard meant he was keeping himself well and genuinely toasty beneath. Who knew? In any case, for a moment, his hair did stand on end with the realisation that it was a little more frosty than he had first considered. The man's peachy, pale orbs scanned the lady before him for a while, and briefly, his tongue snaked out to wet those thick, pink cushions he called lips. "Welcome, in that case. It's not always this cold. But, as you can see..." Victor looked himself over in good humour. "It can get to the best of us. I am already used to it. Tonight is particularly brutal and foreboding, just for us. Are you pleased with the ambience?"

Eleni smiles, her face showing him she's ready to take the bait. He wonders if he will return the move, or go on his way. "I am pleased to have met someone as helpful and kind as you are on such a dreadful night. It makes everything better."

With a light shrug, he puts on his debonair manner, as if he is not a stranger but a man courting an old-fashioned lady. He steps forward and gives a little movement of the head, tipping it for her to come along with him. "Perhaps we will find somewhere to shop, in that case! However, at this hour, we might prefer a hot mug of tea. Or coffee, or something stronger, if it's your preference." He winked playfully and strolled on his path toward Mudbugs.

His walk was self-assured, hardly giving a moment's wait with some expectation that she would come along for a drink. When the offer accompanied the idea of a spending spree the next day, a man always meant business. He would do his very best to recoup the investment. "I think you need to keep that lovely black mane dry. Bloody sky ice." The brutish man laughs, deciding to turn up the charm. "We will do our best to make certain it doesn't hurt a lovely lady such as yourself."

The plan is one that is working. Almost laughably, it is a thought the two have simultaneously, though only Eleni knows it. At least, she thinks only she knows. Taking long strides to keep up with him, Eleni giggles merrily, and replies, "Ah, I could do with a warm drink, I do think!" She notices his long beard but thinks it likely does not help keep him warm at all, nor does he look intimidating. He instead looks like a picture-perfect illustration of every famous Russian in the 1800's, although the fact he is muscular but hardly fat reminds her of the Amish.

"Thank you kindly," she replies, a smile touching her lips as icy raindrops continue to shower her. "I suppose I shall acclimate, in time!!" Tilting her head with curiosity, she follows him, as he seems to know his way about and she can get lost here all day long. The man is going to be an adventure for Eleni and a small bit of work, but at least he has some intuitive GPS and a familiarity with the city.

The place across the street is perfect for Victor, but it isn't Mudbugs. It is an establishment called the Red Question, a New Orleans-inspired jazz club. It is, in any case, how the club advertises itself. It's a rather successful front that draws in the tourists. At the Red Question, twenty-dollar drinks and mediocre jazz music add up to "the authentic Louisiana experience". However, it's not exactly what keeps The Red Question in business or defines a way of life for those who live and work at the establishment.

Most of the residents of Aubrey Parish know better than to believe the hype. Still, most who live in the area, at one point or another, chose to step beyond the door out of sheer curiosity. Invitations are often given in whispers, but once inside, it is a world that shines and glitters with possibility. The Red Question is the worst-kept secret in the Parish. Because of that, it still holds allure and adventure after twenty years. Victor Zenkova knows a bit about life and people, and has built a fortune on the sense of danger only alive within the forbidden.

At this hour, it is still an upscale bar that might or might not have a singer at the piano. Upstairs, however, the scene is different. A stripper pole occupies real estate in the centre of the room. There is plenty of comfortable seating, and beautiful women mill about, selling glasses of champagne while others put on shows. Above that, three floors are often the subject of rumour and gossip, but those who venture will rarely admit to their secret exploits and predilections. The Red Question stays in business thanks to the exquisite aphrodisiacs that are money, discretion, and the power of dark secrets.

The third and fourth floors of The Red Question offer most services a person might imagine from an adult Wonderland, and then some. The top level is secure, with small private rooms for the most special of employees. They are always young women, readily available, and perpetually treated like a sort of royalty within the club. They are like movie stars that never leave the fantasy world of the Red Question.

All are unusually beautiful and agreeable, delightful enough to catch the fancy of Victor Zenkova or his assistant, Virgil. The young ladies are alike in surprisingly few ways, except they are all women somewhat like Eleni in personality. They have that enviable charisma that enables a woman to transform herself into a fantasy within the blink of an eye.

As for the rest of the club, it had started out with just girls, but Victor quickly learned young men brought a different crowd. Over time, the shrewd business owner discovered that the more fantasies he could help make real for the patrons, the more business boomed.

Today, The Red Question embraces diversity and acceptance of every sort of lifestyle proudly, providing something for almost everyone. Rumours still circulate that everyone from the mayor himself to the town's Sheriff pays dearly for some of the more upscale services offered by the club, on a regular basis.

It isn't where Victor had initially intended to take the petite dark-haired woman. He doesn't know her, and he doesn't need trouble in case she is too smart and too observant. Victor is, though, too proud not to show off his creation. Victor feels a need to impress Eleni as quickly as he can. Their time together is limited. Victor tells himself he has not yet made up his mind if he wants her for the club, but he knows there will be no rest until she agrees to work for him. He can feel it, the way she belongs here.

The sign upon the wall with the neon red question mark is unmistakable even from a distance, and he likes that -- not that it is anything unique worth pointing out. Nonetheless, it is worth a stop in there for something to drink. More than that, it is an opportunity to show the girl off a little. Aside from her age, Eleni is precisely the type that appeals to Victor on a more personal level. Even looking like a drowned waif, he could admire her deep blue eyes and a figure that wasn't meant to hide behind the fabric she donned, skimpy as it was. The jewels are an added touch that gives her class.

Many of the patrons already know the black-maned, black-bearded, slightly scarred man. The girl is almost a matching accessory for him, as dark as he is. "Come along." Victor offers the words directly and strolls on. Fortunately, it is not a long walk, and he guides her across the street with as much chivalry as he can muster.

Sadly, it isn't much. Victor already likes the girl and sees her potential. He can't help but notice she is pleasant and follows instructions, two qualities that Victor knows he cannot teach. If she were going to continue to be such agreeable company, it would be a better night than Victor had planned on having when he set foot into the downpour.

"This place is great, trust me." Pausing at the door, he ignores the sign altogether and presses a flat palm against the redwood, opening it for her to enter before him. "After you." A small smile crosses his rough features, and his head dips just enough to show some respect for the fact that he is with a lady.

"What are you having? It's on me. Though, if we're speaking literally, I'd prefer it's not scalding." Victor is not handsome, but he is charming and has an impish grin reminiscent of a schoolboy trying to get out of a visit to the principal's office.

Eleni looks at the building with some interest, taking note of some strange things about it. It is pretty, but there is the lack of the warm and inviting vibe one might imagine from a jazz club. The decor did remind her of the places that boasted soulful music and mind-blowing Hurricanes back in New Orleans, but also of the brothels of Paris. Interesting that it was difficult to tell such places apart, she thought to herself.

She follows the man into the Red Question, as she is curious and also ready to get out of the way of the ice hitting her. "Ah, I offer my gratitude for your kindness." Eleni's smile is gentle but somehow lacks a sense of innocence. There were always tiny flaws in her performance. It might require a seasoned critic to notice such things, but it was possible for others to see through Eleni and avoid her- or court her all the more. Extending her hand as she dips her head slightly in an introduction, she says, "I am Eleni. Tis a pleasure, indeed."

Turning on her heel as he holds open the red door, she says, "I think I should like an Irish coffee. I need to warm up a bit." She forces a shiver, as it doesn't appear she's much affected by the weather at all. Looking up at the sign, she asks curiously, "What is the Red Question?"

Hand upon the door, entering the building feels like returning home for Victor. Eleni on his arm is a bonus, as he likes the way heads swivel to look at her. To a few people, Victor nods when finally he enters the room and to others, he smiles through the corner of his eye. He wasn't about to start having conversations with anyone but the company he currently kept. The lady with him becomes more and more attractive, and it is more necessary to impress her as the night wears on. "Irish coffee and a Guinness, pal." He gives his order to the man at the bar, and a handsome man nearly the same age as Victor begins to whip up concoctions. Casually, Victor leans back and looks her over, spine against the wood.

"I am Victor. Victor Zenovka, originally from London, England. Of course, my family is Russian." The man admits this quite openly, and with little care or consideration -- after all, why would it mean a thing?  "Much warmer in here. I'm not sure why I had even thought to leave without a coat today. I'm absent from my brain. That happens a lot these days. Old age."

Victor chuckles, fighting the need to hide his head in his hands from sheer embarrassment. Either he was still high, or something about his companion replaces his charm with mindless sentences. He almost forgets his interest is meant to be a future business arrangement. "So what brings you all the way to the Parish? You wouldn't look anything like a girl from around here, even if you hadn't said you were new. "

Casually, Victor's peach eyes study Eleni. She slides off her now bedraggled black fur as she walks into the pub. There is arousing ease about her when she smiles charmingly at strangers. As she does so,  he knows she is aware of the eyes on the small black dress, the sparkling jewels. She is not the shy type, and Victor has been around the block too many times not to know when someone isn't exactly what he expects. His eyes twinkle in admiration.

In a matter of minutes, Eleni had turned from clueless waif to elegant grande dame, shining as soon as she walked through the doors of the club. It was an amusingly deceptive chess match the two were playing. He watches the way her large blue eyes dart here and there, taking in the building. There is a look of admiration on her face when she sees things she finds beautiful, and that look sends a surge through his body. "Tis lovely to meet you, Victor. And, ah, London. How beautiful it is there. I adore the rain and fog, though most do not."

Her head tilts, her ruby lips curl upwards as she seems to study him slightly. "I am here by way of New Orleans, though that is not my hometown. I've travelled a bit in my lifetime. It is a passion." Indeed, Eleni's accent is unique but not easy to place, as is her combination of features. It is as if she fits everywhere and nowhere, all at once.

"I am here because I heard it was a safe place, and a good one to make a new start. It is an uncertain world and difficult to learn to face alone. I am recently widowed." For a moment, a shadow passes over her face, but she quickly replaces it with her usual coy smile. "And you? How long have you called this place home?"

In those brief moments, Victor thinks back to his own story. It had him decidedly furrowing his brows and smiling discretely. Oh, what a life he had lived -- and still did. Decadence was second nature for him. Criminal activity is a way of life. It is not the subtle, refined type of deviance he could see reflected in Eleni. She holds a passing note of mystery that she could pass off as innocence if necessary.

For Victor, it is a blatant, unashamed lifestyle choice. He flaunts who he is to anyone who'd be impressed or afraid. Victor knows with those like Eleni, the game and the charm is most of the battle. It was often dull, but worth it to win. Tonight's encounter isn't disinteresting, though. The more she speaks, the more his initial assessment of her disappears. Victor likes the reality better than the pretence. He wasn't quite sure what she was, but he was enjoying the game.

When the drinks finally arrive, and the bartender pushes them forward, Victor pays for them happily. He passes her one across the bar top. "There you are." He interrupts her speech softly, though only quietly and in passing, still allowing his ear to be hers. Indeed her accent could not be placed as such, and he dares not attempt it, though he heard notes of French and Italian within the peculiar diction reminiscent of London's posh circle.

He did add New Orleans to his memory and turned back to the bar. "I've been here a while. Like you, I'm a refugee from another place and another life. I didn't have a choice where I'd end up." Victor chuckled and raised his glass in her direction. "Being alone is a choice, Eleni. It's my sincere hope you'll choose something else."

"The truth of the matter is, I left before I could pack much more than a bag. The government deported me. They didn't much like some of my studies and hobbies." He isn't certain how much more to say, and so leaves it there for now. "A widow, though. You are too young for such a loss, and I grieve for your pain. I shall not press the matter, but you have my sympathies. It cannot be easy starting over like that." He moves to place his hand on hers, seeing an opportunity. Finally, she opens a small door of vulnerability for him to use to his advantage.

He lets out a tiny little sigh. "I've always been alone. It is fine for an old bachelor like me, but for you, it will not do. It makes life much easier when it comes to moving and the whole 'new life, new me', thing, though. " He speaks playfully, but he is serious about that. He's been too many people in too many places for attachments. Even those he genuinely cares for, he keeps at a distance.

Victor realises he is staring at her, a strange warmth travelling through his hand and spreading pleasantly through the rest of his body as his skin makes contact with her chilled flesh. "Mmm. Something about tonight is perfect, isn't it?" He hadn't taken anything in hours, but he still felt euphoric.

A soft and entrancing peal of laughter comes from Eleni as she shifts in her seat, attempting to find a comfortable yet lady-like position upon the bar stool. That process is always harder than it looks, especially with Eleni's fondness for dresses that fall at least 6 inches above the knee, showing off her long thin legs in high heels. "Do you think so? I might take that as a sign you are enjoying my company." The words say they are designed to confuse Victor, innocent and proper and yet everything but that. His mind sees through them. Alas, on another level, it doesn't register. It doesn't matter if she wants something from him. The way she plays the game is elegant and enchanting, and he tries to play it right back.

Her head is tilting in the charming way she has, and she smiles graciously to both Victor and the bartender for the arrival of the small cup. "Many thanks, and cheers, to warmer days and lovely new friendships.". Eleni laughs a moment, but her face then turns rather serious. She is suddenly thinking of the earlier conversation and a few of his stranger comments "Deported?! I imagine you must have made enemies of the wrong people."

Eleni comments as if there is nothing abnormal about this at all. "That must have been difficult, but at least you have been safe here. I hear rumours about this Parish and many strange goings-on. Who can tell what is true and what is a scintillating story, though?" Her tone is a light one that brushes the comment aside, but her eyes sparkle with just a hint of mischief. Victor wonders, possibly for the tenth time that evening, if she knows what she is doing. Eleni's words always seem laced with meaning, or perhaps he wants them to be. He ponders her, considering what it would take to make her eyes soften with need and desire.

"I thank you for your condolences, Victor. No, it is never easy, not a bit. I cannot say I care much for being alone. The world looks different, and it is easy to feel small travelling in it. It fills itself with so many people and endless adventure. I have faith all shall be well."

Eleni pauses. There is a coy, almost flirtatious smile upon her lips as her fingers lightly brush against his. Eleni is like a continuously reinvented work in progress in his mind. "What do people here do for fun and work? The Parish seems small but friendly."

Victor smiles at the young woman's naivete. For some reason, she has a way of making him feel at ease talking about himself. Some of what he says is the truth, some just the recycled lies he told so many. He didn't know the difference anymore. It didn't matter much. "Enemies and friends, I am guessing. Those in charge segregated us onto a 'prison ship'. That's what they called it, anyhow. It was for those of us they considered to be too dangerous to remain amidst the public. Of course, that's all bullshit."

His face flushes with anger as he recounts the tale. "It was so that we never knew what part of the world we were in, but we were allowed enough freedom that our ship became a home. Unfortunately, there was a slight outbreak of plague on board. Everyone thinks that's something from the history books, but this is one of the only parts of the world it still exists."

It is true, but it usually takes a little help from a gambler with a vial to cause a plague these days. Victor was still here to tell about it. It all worked out. He got off the bloody boat. "The ship made port here after the plagued inmates fell overboard, against their will, and like you said--we were able to start again." Not that they all did, of course. Victor did, and that is good enough. At heart, he is a born survivor. He did not yet know Eleni well enough, but he suspected they had that in common. Ah, Eleni. The raising of his frosty mug returns her gracious smile and salutation. Nothing beat a pretty woman and a good cup of Guinness. 

"There's no plague here, fortunately. New Orleans has maybe a case or two a year. It's safe in Aubrey. " Victor confirm this as if reassuring her. "These days many do not come out after dark. Many shy away from the streets due to the nature of the citizens here. Not all are what they seem." Victor observes this casually, for lack of better wording. "But you're a small fish in a big ocean, and an ocean that likes to live like it's cut off from the world." The man's eyes focus on Eleni as his hand reaches out for her arm in a consoling fashion. "You're going to have to learn to survive somehow, aren't you?"

Eleni merely smiles and sips her drink. "I hope so." She says this with a laugh, but behind the laugh is something more. Victor feels his body clouding his better judgment, noticing she is leaning in with a soft smile. His mind goes blank briefly as he watches the tip of her tongue flicking over perfectly-shaped crimson lips. He feels a jolt when she speaks again. "You didn't answer me earlier. What is the Red Question?" Her rainstorm-blue eyes go wide as her head swivels a bit, taking in the entire club with a glance.