I'm On A Boat

With Mariana on her friend's yacht, the buzz would have been the mysterious set of biker clothing and the red Gretsch G5135 electric guitar on the ship. After a while, there's suddenly a thumping in the front of the yacht, the opposite side of where people would be hanging out. Anyone who bothers to to actually walk around and look will find a familiar sight, someone who's been on TV a lot lately and apparently amassing fans, even though he has no idea and doesn't seem to care. Wesley's in his boxers, holding a large shark in a net with obvious shark teeth wounds in his torso, but they seem to be mostly healed by now. He's here for his stuff, looking casual and uninterested. He has no idea who's on this thing.

Usually the center of attention, especially among her high-class friends, Mariana holds up a glass of wine between her long, elegant fingers as she discusses fashion, politics and current event with those gathered. Though many would not be able to pull off polkadots, the Brazilian heiress' expensive strapless dress is practically covered in them — black polkadots on pristine white to match the dark hued bodice on her fancy attire. Her glossy black strappy heels add extra height to her already impressive 5'8". Most of the guests may not have originally noticed the… newcomer come onboard the ship, but once the hired help, especially the guards, start to make some commotion, the attention is all now focused on Wesley. A multitude of gasps and cries of surprise can be heard from the crowd, but once he is noticed or perhaps recognized, there is a bit of buzz going on among some of the world's wealthy elitists. One particular man, the owner of the yacht, pushes his way forward in his armani suit when he addresses the man in his boxers, "You there. What do you think you're doing!" Mariana, being Mr. Armani's date for the night, follows somewhat behind him, silently studying the newcomer from her safe distance.

"I left my clothes here, and I was catching a shark, I thought I'd try eating it or something, but it put up a good fight so I'm gonna let it go." Wesley decides, suddenly tossing the shark into the water after ripping the net open, then drops the net and starts heading for his clothes. He's apparently sniffing the air for them, after shaking water off like a dog, becoming quite quickly dry. "No one get in my way, and you all better hope you didn't touch my guitar." He's heading directly for the Armani man, intending to walk right past him.

The sound of the net ripping and then watching as the shark tumbles out of it makes the crowd gasp in unison once more. Some even carefully wander towards the side of the yacht so that they may get a better look, while others cannot help but watch the partially dressed man in awe. Armani steps up to follow when Wesley starts off towards his belongings. Noting the guitar, he then asks, "I am Bernard Sinclair, the owner of this yacht. Are you the musician that I hired to play for the party?"

Though she trails behind the pair, Mariana half-turns to peer over one bared shoulder to see what she little she can of the shark, but only capturing the image of the other wealthy socialites as they lean over the railing to see it as well. "At least, Bernard." She then starts, her dark gaze flickering back to the newcomer as she continues to study him, especially the wounds which he has accumulated, "He's somewhat dressed, unlike the other who completely ruined our outing for coffee a couple of days ago."

"I don't play for money, I fight and play guitar." Wesley says, a phrase that's likely been heard on TV plenty by now from news reports. He pulls his pants up, putting on his vest, shirt jacket, and the rest of his clothes, then ties his boots up and straps his guitar to his back. Once that's out of the way, he turns around and stares directly at Mariana, pointing. "You, woman. Why're you so hot? It's weird."

"Then… what are you doing on my yacht!" The man we now know as Bernard stammers, "This is an exclusive party. By invitation only. Or are you.. someone's date?" He grumbles lowly, "I mean, I don't care what they say about you on the tv. Do you think that really makes you important?" This Bernard Sinclair is definitely fuming, but when Wesley addresses Mariana, he snaps out, "How dare you even speak to Miss de la Vega like that. Please, stop harassing my guests!"

Mariana, in all of her model-esque glory, simply stares directly at Wesley when he speaks to her; one of her perfectly shaped brows arch lightly at the question, "And what is so weird about it?" Dark brown eyes flicker to Bernard right now, before she inquires, "Also, what is it exactly that they say about you on television? Just out of curiosity."

"It's just a dumb boat, shut up." Wesley sounds mildly annoyed now, approaching the man, casually drawing his head back, then moves to swiftly thrust it forward, trying to collide his forehead with the man's to knock him out. "And how should I know, hot woman? I don't pay attention to all that stuff, I've been too busy fighting monsters and playing guitar, it's fun. Look, I've been trying not to lapse, but I can't get over how fucking hot you are. You wanna go do it?"

Bernard's jaw practically drops, "A dumb boat! I'll let you know that this boat cost me close to 5 million.." His word are then rudely cut off when he is headbutted hard, making him fall back and crumple onto the floor. More than likely wrinkling his expensive Armani in the process.

During the altercation, the corner of Mariana's lips quirk up into a very faint smirk, which quickly fades when she moves to assist her associate all the while hailing down one of the waiters, "I believe Mr. Sinclair is in need of some water and a place to rest. You may wish to bring some aspirin for when he wakes. He'll need it." Hearing Wesley's voice in the background throughout this, the young heiress straightens up to full height and simply asks, "Excuse me?" Perhaps his words offend, "Monsters? What can you tell me about the monsters in this city?" Okay, maybe she's ignoring the last part of the man's statement for now.

"I know I kill 'em, and there's some angel that's a serial killer, I'm gonna get on that later or something, I guess. I'm not some hero, I don't give a crap, I fight monsters 'cause I like fighting." Wesley's quick to point out, reaching to grab her wrist. "I'm taking her off the boat, so don't start bitching or anything, rich people freak out at everything, it's annoying. Come on, I'm gonna take you to a rich person hotel."

"Killing monsters and then going after a serial killer?" Mariana says with a shake of her head, before she studies the man's attire now that he's closed, remembering the wounds which he once wore just earlier. "And battling sharks single-handedly. Are you one of… those individuals which I've heard so much abou… where are we going?" The conversation quickly changes as she is pulled forward by her slender wrist. "I mean, can you really afford a 'rich person hotel'?" Her gracious hostess tone touches on condescending now, but she still remains polite even if she attempts to withdraw away from the man's grasp.

Wesley suddenly leaps into the air, flying high above the yacht with her as he tries to pull her against him around her waist, mostly so she won't fall. "I'm Thor's son, so? Don't worry about stupid stuff like that. What's your name? I'm Wesley." He stares at her, slightly irritated, but then shakes his head and shrugs it off. "No, but don't you worry about it. We're gonna go to one of those suite things."

Despite her height, Mariana is quite a light weight and while she may struggle testingly against him, she is in no way a match to his strength so is easily whisked off of her feet. However, as she wears a dress, she cannot help but be more than a little self conscious and one of her hands automatically lowers to smooth out the skirt of her expensive gown. Her lips part and one can just tell that she is about to say something along the lines of 'unhand me, you uncouth jerk!' or somesuch, but she quickly changes her mind at the realization at how high they are above the yacht. So she continues with the question, even though her brow furrows gently at her distress, "Thor's son? And what was Thor's son doing at an exclusive party anyway?" A pause, "My name is Mariana de la Vega. I just arrived in New York a few days ago… on business."

"I put my clothes and guitar on the boat so they wouldn't get messed up, I didn't think people were gonna use it today." Wesley explains, flying at a rather fast pace until they're floating outside one of the top floors of a hotel suite, forcing the window open, flying in, then closing it behind him. "See? Easy."

"So you always use Bernard's yacht when you decide to go fishing?" Mariana just has to ask. While they are in the air, her gaze shifts about the cityscape from this height, looking upon the tall buildings with a hint of awe coupled with fear. It's not everyday that she is off flying and without her family's private jet. Hearing the sounds of a window being forced open, she then asks, "Have you ever found your room occupied when you attempt this little trick?" Now that they've finally touched ground, she finds that she can breathe easier, feeling far safer… to a certain extent.

"I don't give a shit about that guy's stupid boat, a boat's a boat. I'll sink the thing if I hear about it again." Wesley says as he gets annoyed by the repeated mentions of the boat, then starts removing his jacket. "If it's taken then I just go to another room, I don't give a crap if they see me. What're they gonna do about it? So, you wanna do it? I know how to touch a girl, it's a god thing, I know how every girl likes to be touched."

Mariana is always picture perfect no matter what the circumstance, normally. Even so, out of habit, she still touches up her hair to ensure that not even one strand is out of place, before working on smoothing down the layers of polkadots from the hem of her skirt. All of this is done so as modestly as possible. Then she hears something of interest and perhaps just out of some dark sense of amusement, her eyes lift to view Wesley when she utters the words, "Do you mean Bernard's yacht?" Just those words alone are enough to make her smile brighten as if deriving pleasure from the idea that poor Bernard will be minus one yacht. Or maybe, she is simply daring this son of Thor to go ahead and try to sink the yacht. However, that is soon quick-lived and the smile fades as she exudes a heavy sigh, "Is that all you ever think of? Lewd thoughts about girls who you don't even know who are weirdly… hot, as you have said once before."

"I'm trying not to go fucking random women, but I can't fucking help it now, you're just too hot, I have to fuck you." Wesley says as he peels his shirt off, then tosses his vest on the floor, his wounds already nearly healed completely. "I just need to do it once last time, then I can keep it in my pants. With a girl like you, I think I can get it out of my system, just one really good lay."

Keeping up a pleasant demeanor, Mariana's lips do purse at all the cussing and lewdness being uttered. Though when she speaks, she sounds as if she were a tutor giving a lesson to an insolent schoolboy, "I cannot believe that I am hearing this. Do you think that I'm just some random woman who would fall into bed with a man because, I don't know, he can fly and battle sharks with the best of them. Single-handedly, I might add. Do they not teach self-control where are you from?" And her body language says it all as she takes a cautious step back; one of her hands rests against her bosom as her fingertips tap against her exposed collarbone. "I mean, that might work with women of a lower status… or looser morals," She quickly adds in as a bitter aside to those heiress types who do party hard, "But unfortunately, I am neither."

"Fucking hell, now I want you more." Wesley groans, walking over to the bed, not even bothering to touch her, he just sits down and hunches over, resting his elbows over his knees. "I don't do all that shit to get laid y'know, I was gonna eat the shark, but like I said, he was a good fighter so I let him go. Fuck, why are you so hot if you're not gonna let guys get you? Fuck, that's not even fair."

Mariana feels far more relaxed as distance grows between herself and the swearing horndog, or that's how she sees him as. After a moment of allowing him to simmer or boil over or whatever he does, the willowy Brazilian then asks, "What is the fun in that? If everyone, every woman just gave in so easily to you? There are some things which are far better if you work at it and.. then there are some things that are simply unobtainable, but you will need to make that decision on your own at some point. Though, from what I can see, you would prefer things easy and simple. So all of this advice will be moot."

"Why's everything gotta be so complicated?" Wesley asks in utter frustration, falling back on the bed to stare at the ceiling with his arms spread, feet still firmly planted on the floor. "I don't even know what my problem is, you're just so fucking hot it almost makes my head hurt."
Wesley has partially disconnected.

Never once does Mariana deny her level of hotness. In fact, she seems to bask in the compliment whenever it is uttered. "Some of us are just born blessed. As you seem to be, Mr. Wesley, right? Really now, being turned down by a Brazilian heiress will hardly ruin your day. The night is still young and if you work quickly, I'm certain there will be someone out there who very well may take you up on your offer. As for myself, I just bought this dress." And here she does a little twirl to show it off, "If you're only going to appreciate it once it's off of me, then I believe that I'm missing an exquisite party where everyone will be asking where ever did I purchase it."

"I like your dress!" Wesley is quick to jump on all fours in front of her, who knows why, but he's admiring the dress. Since Melanope, one tends to dislike rich girl hate. "If I were a chick, I'd totally wear one just like that. And I know there's a girl who'd let me do it, it's just…" He frowns and crosses his arms, sitting on the floor. "Great, now I feel that guilty feeling again, I hate that feeling."

Mariana just stands there in the middle of the room in perfect statuesque form. That is, until Wesley bounds off of the bed and lands on all fours and this makes the young heiress wary as she draws her flowing skirt closer to her long slender frame in case the man is trying to sneak in a few pantyshots. However, some of what he says confuses and thus she inquires, "A girl who would let you…wear a dress similar? Does she happen to be a tailor?" That is when Wesley goes on about the guilt and while this does surprise her, there is a tiny glimmer of spark within her eyes. "What for? Why are you feeling guilty? Because you see women as mere objects for your pleasure?"

"No! I mean there's a girl who'd let me do her. That's why I feel guilty." Wesley crosses groans, staring at the floor, not even bothering to look up at her. "Usually I just wanna bang chicks, but like, I actually care about what this girl thinks and says, and how she feels and stuff, and she's so fucking cute… But she said I can fuck other girls if I want, and I have this stupid feeling in my stomach whenever I try. So I was gonna just try and fuck one really hot girl and get it out of my system and try just being with one girl for a while. I wanna fuck other girls, it's just hard, until I saw you, 'cause you're just, unbelievably fucking hot."

Mariana listens almost patiently the way a psychiatrist would when a patient goes off on a rant about, well… Her attention does pique a little to part of the rant, however. "You have feelings for this girl and yet you cannot stop chasing after other girls to soothe your base masculine urges. Then maybe you don't really care for this girl after all, or else you would stop. Completely." Her chin lifted, she then takes a few steps towards the window to view the cityscape, but this time from the safety of being behind glass, "Some women may say that they do not mind, but really, it does bother them." Pivoting on the narrow wedge of her glossy strapped heels, she then looks to Wesley, "But what do I know. Perhaps you are right and finding that one goddess to… copulate with may clear your urges completely. I do wish you luck with that."

"I think I kind of hate you." Wesley says with a slight groan, opening the window again. "I'm gonna visit you again. Let's go and I'll take you back to your stupid boat. I'm sinking it later though." he declares, moving to fly from the window, then holds his arms out for her to take.

"Now that's a terrible thing to say to a woman who you basically kidnapped from a party and asked point blank whether I would sleep with you. Not in the most romantic of ways, I might add." Mariana says in an easy conversational tone. That same brow arches gracefully again as she asks, "Do you think your girlie would appreciate that, really? To have you visiting 'hot', wealthy women who you merely want to bed." There is no objections made nor any other comments regarding the yacht's sinking, but there is this odd, ghostly satisfied smile on her lips. "I don't know… Perhaps I should take a cab back. I mean, I refused to sleep with you and I would hate for you to do anything in retaliation to that."

"Look, sorry alright? I just wanted to fuck. And I don't need more guilt…" Wesley just leaves her there after that, flying quickly into the air and away. He does not want more guilt!

Mariana doesn't seem at all miffed to be left up here in a suite which she nobody had booked. In fact, she watches from her place at the window as the man takes off into the sky and only once he is out of her line of sight does she turn to make her own departure. There's a light mixture of amusement on her features which fade as quickly as it appears, leaving her looking somewhat vacant. But there is a bright side and though no one else is there to hear her, she does have to say, "I can't wait to hear from Bernard, once his yacht is sunk." A giggle even follows.

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