Classic Rock One Shots

Nico II "Staff of Seduction" {Meet-Cute}

Nico swiftly exited the small space, but soon returned with the kit in hand and pulled up a stool from the corner to treat Eliza's wound. She took the brunette's injured hand by her wrist, dabbing her fingers in the unscrewed jar of ointment to carefully slather the burns with. She then took up the gauze and wrapped it around the irritated fingers, still red-hot with pain.

As Nico worked to heal her, Eliza used the thenar of her healthy hand to soak up the few tears that'd slipped from her tightly closed eyes. "There. This'll do for now." The blond said, releasing Eliza's hand to pack up the first aid kit.

Once Eliza finished cleaning up her mess, they finally had their tea, not saying much as they hastened to get out of the door. After having practically chugged their drinks, they headed to the coat rack to prepare to leave.

Eliza's deep brown peacoat swallowed her small figure, noticeably a size or two too large for her frame. The collar tickled the lobes of her ears, shielding her chin and lower lip with a wall of stiff felted wool. They stepped out of her apartment, quickly hailing a yellow cab and informing the driver of the studio's location.

The taxi driver was silent, the radio set to an agreeable level as he swerved through the streets of New York City.

"You're not American." Nico's voice snapped Eliza out of her trance, causing her soft brown hair to whip over her shoulder as she turned to face her. She regarded the blonde's stale and concentrated expression — to her, it seemed almost as if the singer was trying to find a crack within Eliza, a way for her to see inside of the girl and uncover all of her deepest secrets.

"No, I'm not." The brunette replied simply, adjusting her bag over her shoulder. "Was it my accent?"

"No." The blonde smiled with playful intention. Her hand descended into a deep coat pocket, retrieving a pack of smokes. "I guessed it by your name, the way you carry yourself. You're from Western Europe, Eliza?" Her German accent stamped each of her words, the ink of her heritage bleeding through the paintress' name — Eliza.

"No. The Middle East." She replied, avoiding eye contact as she began to feel intimidated.

"I'm from Western Europe. Germany. Does this bother you?" Nico spoke, her index and middle finger carrying the cig between her lips and training her Zippo on the end.

"No, no! I have no problems with Germans."

Nico chuckled, smoke still unlit, and removed it from her mouth.

"Not that. The cigarette." She'd by then successfully lit it, the ash beginning to burn away as the cigs rested in her lap, idling between her slim fingers. "I noticed you're avoiding my eyes."

"Oh. No, it doesn't." Eliza felt a pang of something she didn't recognize at having been caught. She thought that she was being rather slick in steering away from the blue eyed woman's gaze. "I'm a smoker myself, actually."

"Care for one?" Nico inquired.

"Yes, sure. Thanks." Eliza smiled, saying 'yes' for what felt like the first time that whole day. The two smoked their cigarettes in silence, enjoying the city sounds as the driver skillfully took them to their destination. Nico's jaw could've dropped when she saw the massive and expensive looking Victorian-style building. They exited the cab, paying the cabbie and disposing of their cigarette butts responsibly.

The two ascended the few steps, the brunette taking a silver key out of her pocket. She shook it around in the lock to admit them access to the building. The heavy brass doors where admittedly a challenge to push open; Eliza often struggled with them when she was on her own. She found herself thankful that Nico was with her to make it easier on her.