ALONE TOGETHER I OWEN GRADY

Throw Roses In The Rain

Author's Note: Videos for characters canon and original, can be found on my Youtube channel via the link on my profile.

~*~

'Only a dream, I think, waking to the sound of nothing. Not nothing. I heard: it was a beach, or shore, and someone far off, walking. Nowhere familiar. Somewhere I've been before. It always takes a long time to decipher where you are.'

Margaret Atwood

~*~

Throw Roses In The Rain

Before

"Why, Miss. Jones, you're... beautiful!"

Cassandra coldly and deliberately finished cleaning her gold rimmed spectacles, using the cuff of her blouse to wipe each lens meticulously clean, before perching them again on the bridge of her nose. Then and only then, did she deign to favour the interloper with her attention. "Excuse me, do I know you?" she said icily, assessing him with narrowed blue eyes.

"Strangers are just friends who haven't met yet, sweetheart," the interloper said smartly, taking a seat on the bar stool beside hers, beckoning the bartender over as he did.

"Didn't your mother teach you not to talk to strangers?" Cassandra said scathingly, hurriedly pulling down her pencil skirt as the interloper cast her bare legs a sidelong glance, the hem having ridden up her thighs for the umpteenth time, Cassandra struggling to stay balanced atop her bar stool ever since she'd sat down.

The interloper finally dragged his gaze back up to her furious face. "Yeah, but I like to live on the wild side," he replied with a wink. "A cold beer for me and another of whatever she's having..." he said to the bartender, his voice trailing off as he frowned at Cassandra's glass. "What is that?" he asked, squinting at the clear liquid, then at Cassandra. "Water?" he then guessed. "Lemonade maybe? Or is that too far out for you?"

"Vodka," Cassandra said abruptly, "straight."

"Really?"

"Want to taste it to make sure, flyboy?"

The interloper looked at her for a long moment. "No, I believe you," he then drawled before turning to the bartender. "One vodka, then, please, my good man."

"Whatever," the bartender said sourly, before stalking off.

"Whoa, he's a barrel of laughs," the interloper said, somewhat taken aback. "A true kindred spirit there."

"Whatever," Cassandra echoed, before knocking back the rest of her drink in one go, only to immediately start spluttering when it went down the wrong way, burning the back of her throat as it did.

The interloper hurriedly poured her a glass of water from the jug next to him. "Jeesh," he said, sliding it across the counter to her, "maybe you should sit the next vodka out."

Eyes watering, Cassandra downed the water with alarming speed, before frantically signalling for a second, and then a third glass, the interloper obliging with alarming alacrity. By the time she could breathe again, the interloper had downed the vodka he'd ordered for her, and was now calmly sipping his beer whilst watching her with amused grey eyes.

"Thank you," Cassandra croaked, "but I can pour my own water, just so you know."

"From where I was standing, you looked a little busy."

"Sitting, actually," Cassandra corrected him with some difficulty. "You're sitting down."

The interloper raised his eyebrows, amused. "Okay, from where I'm sitting, then," he amended. "But anyways... to get back to the matter at hand," he then said, leaning his elbow on the counter before assuming a mock philosophical pose, "the big question that's bothering me is, what's a girl like you doing in a place like this?"