Description: An attempt to blow off some steam ends up bringing a young naive hockey kid into the flirty clutches of a certain 'Mila', and strung along by his eyes, fumbling more than once along the way.
It's getting later in the night, and while the rink has a certain appeal to duck the nearing summer heat, not many are really in the mood for it as closing time for the rink approaches. Dates are leaving, family and school groups were gone before dinner....that means while it's still technically a public rink, it's sparse enough for someone to get in some practice if they REALLY wanted.
So it shouldn't be a surprise that a certain Mr. Neuer is on the ice. And while he's careful not to get in anyone's way, he does use the chance to work on some impromptu shuttles. And plenty of those who do remain recognize him from the NDP fights to give him breadth and watch the practice going on. Brett certainly has a lot of steam to blow off...and hearing a few talk about how lame he looked in his semi-final fight and outright mocking him makes him wish he had some kind of target to beat up on too. But...for now? He just grits his teeth, stopping his shuttles and just....circling for now.
Exiting the ladies dressing room, dozens of feet above the ice, comes a lavender-maned woman with a low-lidded gaze whose carrying a pair of simple, black, leather skates with white laces. Swinging the large, heavy, wooden door wide as she makes for the stairs leading down to the rink... letting the heavy door swing closed on a poor prresumptuous woman's face following shortly behind. She's wearing a form-fitting, strapless, skating dress composed with thick cotton on the torso and lace for the shoulders and sleeves - showing just enough bare skin underneath to draw the eyes. The dress is of a solid black coloring with frilly little skirt that barely covers the essentials... leaving her long, shapely, legs exposed from upper thigh to ankles. That dress does NOT look warm... but that's nothing vigorous movement won't fix.
She makes her way down the concrete stair, skipping stairs all the way down with the grace of a practiced dancer, hitting the solid concrete floor outside the rink with her soft, bare, well-manicured feet and proceeds to open the large, glass, gate to the rink. Sliding on her skates with haste, and unusual precision for some rushing so, she binds the laces tightly and proceeds to glide out onto the ice once she's finished... closing the gate behind.
As theviolet-haired woman slowly glides out toward the rink center... seemingly as deep in thought as Brett... she makes very little attempts at movements for several long moments until... she realizes she's heading directly for him and then gracefully shifts her weight and glides away from him wordlessly. She had just barely dkirted him and hadn't even apologized, was she really that deep in thought or jsut that rude?
Sighing, the former winger brushed over his head and clasped at the back of his neck, his usual pads and helmet and etc. still bagged up, just his skates marking him as Brett Neuer. He continued to slowly circle around the ring, only pushing off the ice enough to keep up speed in that lazy, thereputic lap around the rink. "Dammit..." Of course, his performance on the big stage wasn't the only thing bothering him, but it was the most public. So no surprise it's the only reason those who recognize him would think of
Not that many are paying attention to him anymore, not when the woman in the daring black skating dress arrives. Brett is first unaware of the entrance. He notices the lack of whispering and commenting on him, which is something he would be thankful for. But then...well, he realizes there's someone new on the ice. And even in his reverie, he finds himself with eyes drawn toward the lavender haired woman, blinking and...well, staring. He was only vaguely aware of the brush past, but it was enough to catch his attention, that's for sure.
Feeling the eyes of others upon her was something Sonia was quite used to, being that she goes out of her way so very much to make that happen. Usually, however, unwanted staring is like background noise to her... but today... for whatever reason... the heavy-lidded russian woman with lavender shag does turn her gaze toward the man she'd just skirted moments prior. Her eyes fall first upon Brett's face, then down at his jersey, and then back at his face in a lazy manner. Then... her usual poker face melts into a trademark inviting smile that stretches from ear to ear - her flawless pearly whites on display for all to see. She then proceeds to spin, slow and wordless, on the ice - giving him a good long look at every inch of her shapely form - before simply resuming her prior sideways gliding. She wasn't going to say anything just yet, perhaps enjoying the wordless exchange, but she does make an effort to slowly glide in his general direction again - giving him a shot at making a verbal exchange. She's either shy or toying with him and given her attitude it's probably the latter...
Brett finds himself slowing in his persistant lap around the ice, watching the sultry woman pirouetting in the middle of the ice before he catches hold of the boards surrounding the rink. "Wow..." He finally catches himself staring far too late though, shaking his head and giving himself a small conk with the heel of his palm. Staring is pretty dang rude, after all.
When she passes by, he feels an embarrassed heat in his cheeks, hoping she didn't catch him staring too much as well. "Um...I'm surprised someone came in this late. Most everyone else is heading out," he says quickly, trying to strike up some small talk as he starts gliding along the ice again. Anything to deflect from his faux pas.
Sonia retains her ear-to-ear smile even as she starts to gravitate toward and then glide right past her now stationary spectator - whom has ceased skating and braced himself against the rink rim in a semi-stupor. She shifts her weight against, turning slightly to the left, and allows herself to simply drift backwards on the blades of her skates guided by her bodies momentum.
As Brett finally says something to her, she rplies in kind... "Yes, I know. The less people the better..." .. and then chuckles, adding after a moment... "You're fine though. ... New feet?" She is, of course, making light of his seeming loss of ability to skate in her presence. "You should probably be more careful about watching where you're going." This from the woman who was purposefully trying to distract him just moments prior. "You play ice hockey?"
Brett gets going again, though at a slower clip, this time just long enough to keep up with the mysterious woman as he skates along. "N-no, I've...practically lived on skates really," he insists. "Just...um..." He scratches the back of his neck. "Well, you made a pretty big splash coming in, I guess," he admits. "Hard not to notice you I suppose." He nods when she brings up hockey. "Yeah...or did. It's...kind of a complicated thing, really. Um...name's Brett Neuer. Nice to meet you."
Sonia didn't know whether to find the awkwardness this guy was giving off as cute or annoying. One might not be able to tell from her expression or body language though, except perhaps for a tell-tale averting of her eyes momentarily. "I see. So you're a professional... but on temporary hiatus?" Probably more like joblessness, she thought to herself privately... making her smile widen just the teensiest bit. Yes, she really is kind of a bitch. Like a beautiful rose with discreet, venomous, thorns... "Is that so?" Name dropping so quickly... how presumptuous. Well, she could play along... "Mila ... Aleksandrov. It's Russian. Nice to meet you." Lies, but she couldn't have him knowing her real name now could she. And while she's at it... "I'm new to this... skating. Teach me?" Yet more lies. But he was proving a decent distraction so far at least.
Brett rubs the back of his neck. "Never got to pro level actually. I would've gone into the draft but I ended up getting into the fighting circuit for my own reasons," he says. Obviously not one of his fans, but that's no surprise. He's not exactly a huge name after all. "Mila...nice to meet you," he says, smiling to the unknown woman. "Pretty name," he says, still a little awkward but relaxing ever so slightly. "New? You seem to be a natural at it. No way you're new," he insists, smiling back to the lavender-haired stranger. Considering her movements, he could tell she was nowhere near new. But then again, he's too honest to use an excuse either. He's a doof that way.
She chuckles again... "Isn't it in a man's honor to take a woman at her word...?" Clasping her free hands behind her back and leaning forward a bit so as to pick up speed... gliding a bit ahead of her newfound companion. Since he's so dense, she'll do him a favor this time... "That was an invitation to dance. One you definitely missed." Ouch. ... "But I suppose subtleties don't work so well for men." It was true, many of the men she had encountered in her life were all fairly bad at picking up on subtle cues. All the ones who weren't were usually highly trained assassins or the like... "Let us try again.. you teach me..?" She offers him her hands, curious to see how he reacts... considering how he behaved earlier her boldness just might knock him over this time. She'd be terribly amused either way...
An embarrassed look crosses over Brett's face at the rather backhanded guidance. He seems to be getting a lot of that as of late, sadly. A sigh and sheepish look comes over the hockey player's face. He does seem like a simple lad, sadly. And despite his congenial nature, not one used to being around the fairer sex. "Sorry about that," he apologies, slowly gliding along side the mysterious, barbed-tongue woman. The offered hands...well, he isn't completely bowled over, shockingly enough. And for a big guy known for hard checking, he can be pretty gentle when he wants to be, holding them carefully. "If you want, then," he says, a small smile offered. Though something tells him this is a danger zone. He isn't sure why but...it feels like a dangerous road.
A dangerous road indeed, for as he takes her hands she glides into his territory rather effectually. The gap between them has closed almost sufficiently enough for a body-heat exchange. This woman was not merely barb-tongued and bold, she was also apparently rather accustomed to simply doing whatever she pleases with little if any regard for others comfort. She was still smiling that radiant, inviting, smile though... at least if nothing else it should be apparent she's not going to attack him anytime soon...
At his mentioning of her 'wants' however she says... "You do not wish to?" She doesn't believe that, of course, but she was at the very least going to call him on it for fun.
Holding on carefully to 'Mila's' hands, Brett slowly skated with her around the quickly emptying rink. It was rather...unsettling, but he tried to remains as gentle and guiding as possible even if that smile felt more and more dangerous to the hockey kid than ever. "NO, no, it's not that, just...still polite to check, you know..." he says, still obviously anxious about the whole situation. Not every night this happens, and being the warm-blooded (and occasionally hot-blooded) young man he is, his eyes end up wandering far to much as he tried to slide behind her as they skate. "Just not every day I get asked to help a pretty woman with her skating, y'know."
The 'dangerous' woman's radiant smile becomes a bit more of a teasing grin as the anxious young man denies that he didn't wish to skate with her. As his eyes wander over that shapely form barely contained by white lacey skating dress, the woman does not react as one would expect most women to. In fact, the only reference she makes to it at all is, "It is a nice dress, isn't it?" ... letting him know in a round-about way she caught it.
As the pair glide in formation across the nearly empty rink, 'Mila' leading them off by a bit, she tries to keep the conversation moving given she feels he'll probably not contribue much himself unless she fishes it out of him, "So, what are we doing? What will you show me?" Even as she says, she instictively begins to swing her body weight gently, changing her momentum so as to avoid making contact with the wall, all with her back to it. Clearly this woman doesn't really need lessons...
Brett swallows, having been caught red-handed and roaming-eyed, so to speak. "It's...lovely," he says, trying to quickly cover it up, despite knowing just how caught he was. Continuing to cup each hand with his own, the broad kid kept up his slow guide around the rink with her. When she suddenly spins about and moves to face him, he blinks and looks back to 'Mila', staring down to her. "Um...I could show you how to shift your body weight to make turns without slowing down?" He suggests, one hand moving from hers toward her waist, though...gentleman as he is, he doesn't actually touch her down there.
Though a gentleman Brett may be, a shy girl 'Mila' is not. For when Brett hesitates to place his hand on her waist, she reaches out with her free hand to attempt to guide it toward her waist... provided he doesn't resist. How's a man supposed to lead if he can't even hold onto his skating partner...? "Very well. Please do." ... is pretty much all the verbal response he gets from the woman with the violet eyes.
As the pair continue their little awkward dance around the previously quiet rink, an upbeat and horribly old fashioned song begins to play over the loud speakers... the voice of a spritely old man singing "If I were a rich man, all day long I'd biddy bidy bum..." ... bringing a touch of unintended awkwardness to the situation the pair find themselves in.
Brett's face grows redder the moment his hand is brought over to 'Mila's' waist, lump in his throat growing before swallowing it down. "Very well," he says, still looking into those violet eyes and feeling more anxious by the second. As they continue on, he tries to guide her to her side. "Hold on. I'm going to have to lift you up a little first," he says, voice quavering a bit as they reach near the end of the rink.
Leaning in, he tries to use that hold on her waist to pull her up and tip her over, just as he leans into the turn as well. It's not a fast turn, but he still seems to be trying to make a genuine attempt to 'teach'. "You have to...um...lean like this, b-bring your body weight into your turn and push off the other way with each skate until....er...uuntil..." And his brain suddenly goes blank as he tries to finish that sentence.
He's just coming apart isnt he? The violet-haired Mila thinks to herself, amused, as Brett's nervousness visibly spikes upon his hand touching her waist. Men were so entertaining...
She does exactly as he says, allowing him to guide her and lift her into the air for instructive purposes. As he begins to stammer, however, she looks down at him with a raised eyebrow... "...and what?" ... Assuming he sets her down shortly after they make the turn, she slides out beside him and stops... making it plain she intends on stopping for a moment. "Are you quite alright?" She figured he was, but she had to at least appear concerned.
If only the poor boy had more experience with girls. Not just talking or being social, but actually...well...touching them. He was already having trouble keeping together just skating with her and trying to small talk them. Then again, it was probably his own damn fault trying to pick her up like that, playing figure skater despite his technique being totally the other way as far as skating goes. He DOES end up putting her down after the turn, gingerly bringing her back to her skates, but he's still obviously flustered. "I'm...f-fine. Really. Just...not used to teaching skating technique this personally."
"I see…" She lets go of his hands, briefly, giving him a bit of space so that he can steel his nerves. "I shouldn't have coaxed you so far out of your element. You are after all a hockey player, yes? Probably only used to making contact with other men…" A chuckle escapes her, then. "So… tell me… what brings you here tonight?" Yes, she's momentarily changed the subject from teaching momentarily to idle conversation. If only because of this boy gets any more nervous and attempts to teach her anymore… she feels they might both end up face down on the cold ice.
Brett swallows another lump in his throat and nods. "Y-yeah...I..." He coughs, bringing a hand up to his mouth once they're relinquished , and clearing his throat. "Yeah, I a-" He frowns a little when she puts it that way. "Th-that's not fair, you know," he immediately says, stammering once more. "I was...blowing off steam after a bad fight," he said, sighing as he remembers the fight that he was trying to forget, his mood switching from anxious to a little more frustrated.
Hm? Sonia's keen eyes pick up on the subtle shift in his mood. "Apologies. I am very frank, as you may have noticed. I don't do so well at... mmm... how is it said..." She searches the linguistic databases in her mind, separating the english from the several other languages she knows. Being damn near fluent in a plethora of human languages had its disadvantages... even for a woman who has been living in America for years. "...coating with candy my words." I comes out rather laughably wrong, but perhaps it will provide the boy with some amusement. "...You fight? What is your style?"
"Sugar-coating?" Brett tries to correct, offering the proper idiom for the context. "But...yeah. I'm a fighter." Quite notably, his stammering is gone, as is his nervousness. Even if he's just takling about fighting, it does seem to change something with the boy. "I fight the same way I do in hockey. Hard checks, hitting them with my stick, slamming into them at full speed, all that."
"I see..." 'Mila' trails off, suddenly deciding to begin to move away from Brett again... skating a few feet off then turning and skating backward away from him again. As the distance increases between them she invites him to join her with a wordless, dainty, waving of her right hand. "Come, let us keep moving before the cold sets in. A dress like this one will not by itself keep a woman warm for very long..." ... then she smiles in that teasing manner again, once more calling attention to her dress and planting the seeds of thoughts about the curvaceous body beneath. She couldn't have his mind off her for too long... that would be boring. "I also fight... but I am not so very good at it..." Lies. Again.
The hockey kid sighs, still obviously frustrated. And even when his eyes are drawn back to 'Mila' as she separates and starts to skate back from him, his attitude is significantly different. "I'd hate for you to end up cold, in...that," he says, hesitant but no longer stammering. He follows slowly, eying 'Mila' especially as she says she fights as well. "You do?...what style do you have?"
The woman frowns a bit internally as her attempt to use her charms to bring him out of a slump falls dead. Her actual expression, that smile, however does not change. At his inquiry about her fighting style, however, she does pause... seeming to think for several moments before responding to him in kind. "Sambo." It was as honest as the answer she'd given that Tai Chi instructor the other day. Not like it hurt be a little honest... if he ever saw her fight he might pick it up anyway. "It's a Russian art. It's very harsh, much like your own style. There is no better way to end a fight than to cripple one's assailants before they've even began, no?" Here she lets a bit of her real personality show... wondering perhaps how he'll respond.
Brett scratches his cheek a little as he listens to Mila. "Sambo...I've heard of it, but not really seen much of it. Maybe I could see it sometime? I've been meaning to find an actual style to learn, and..." He rubs the back of his neck. "Maybe seeing it in action will help me see if it's my kind of style?" he says. He seems genuinely interested in the style, an honest earnestness in his expression...even if his eyes say there's just a little bit of an ulterior motive too.
As he mentions 'seeing' her style, the woman seems to retreat within herself again... contemplative. There is silence in the space of a few moments, as the retreating russian skater skirts the edge of the ring again. With the pair now playing what seems a bit like a slow game of ice chase, things have really slowed down from their initially heated beginnings and begun to grow cool like the ice they were dancing on. Mila piroette a bit, spinning in one place on her left foot with her hands held behind her back and faces away from him for the time being... "Yes, perhaps I could." She appears to be slowly gliding now toward the exit to the rink, aiming to grasp the large door to the entryway and just brace herself against it for a moment.
"Sometime." Whether she is offzering to have a sparring session or alluding to an expected future conflict between the two is anybody's guess. Though given her job, the latter seems likely. "I should probably be going soon however. ... Do you want my number?"
Cool suits Brett. He is a creature of winter after all, being that boy from Minnesota still, depsite everything's that's happened to him in recent. "Um...sure," he says when the offer of the number comes up, naturally taking up the offer without his usual awkwardness...though perhaps still caught in that narrow focus of fight training. Better than stammering all over himself again though. Coming off the ice as well, he hurries over to where he left his bag, hoping he had a scrap sheed he could write the numer down on. He really is going to lose his head though once he realizes the gravity of getting a number off a girl he just met like this. But for now....naivete wins out.
'Mila' meanwhile busies herself with removing her skates at the entryway and closing the heavy gate behind her with a loud 'click' as tthe latch goes closed again. By now very nearly every person in the place has begun to clear out, and not even the cheesy ambient music was playing overhead anymore.
She waits, then, semi-patiently and barefooted on the cool stone floor outside the rink for him to find some scrap paper. She didn't guess he had a smartphone, then. Usually those are capable of storing numbers on their own. How old fashioned... "Do take your time... I have a while..." Though it wouldn't even remotely sound anything less than courteous, itis in fact a bit of an annoyance for her the clumsiness of this boy... and she is beginning to let it show.
It's actually after some time searching for scrap paper that Brett does remember about his phone, blinking and looking sheepish once it hits him. "OH, right," he says, fishing the phone out and quickly slipping through a few menus before he's ready. "Right..." he says, trying not to backslide into that awkward embarrassment. "Sorry about this. Pen and paper is just...more natural to me, I guess." He really is a little old-fashioned, isn't he?
An amussed smirk is adopted again, as it dawns on him that he could just use his phone. "3-8-3... 2-9-4... 5-7-8-9." She sounds out the numbers slowly, giving him to record the number in his phone. Once it looks as though he's finished, she wastes very little time heading toward the stairs and making the climb back to the top so she can finally get changed out of the cold, semi-wet with moisture, dress. Her legs especially wer beginning to feel a bit numb from the chill. The things a woman goes through to draw attention to herself... and her thighs... "I need to be going, it was a pleasure meeting you. Perhaps I can be showing Sambo to you some other time." ... And with that, she leaves the awkward country boy to realize... he just received a very beautiful woman's number.
Log created on 21:02:46 06/04/2012 by Brett, and last modified on 14:51:52 06/25/2012.