Careful Observations {OPEN}

[style=float: left; margin-right: 8px; border: 3px solid #F0EEE9; margin-bottom: 4px][/style]What does an assassin do when there’s nothing to do? Why, he goes to the mall, of course.

Nolan cruised leisurely around the mall, his black, shining dress shoes making a slight clicking noise as they made contact with the colorful tiles that littered the floor. At the moment, he sported a white collared shirt that was covered up by a khaki-colored sweater with a V-neck. Professional-looking black jeans were his pantaloons for the day, and, as typical, atop his head he wore a black fedora, lined with white stripes. His hair flowed down past his shoulders, and his black shades hid the intelligent and dignified eyes that peered from left to right as he strode past small groups of people.

His lips pursed together as he passed an accessory shop, filled with all kinds of apparel for both men and woman. Out of his keen peripheral vision, he caught notice of a section dedicated purely for fedoras. He hesitated for a slight moment. His obsession with the stylish articles of clothing were, admittedly so, bordering on fetishistic. A chin found its way until it rested on a thoughtful, placid hand as Nolan entertained the thought of him acquiring a new fedora. It would certainly be amusing to watch the looks on the faces of people he knew go from surprised to rolling their eyes heavenward and throwing their hands up in the air. It would most certainly be worth it.

A few minutes later, he found himself exiting the shop with another fedora in tow. This one was a pretty olive green color, and he’d most certainly make sure that it matched with at least two other pieces from his wardrobe. He was a very fashion-minded man, and he prided himself in the fact.

As he walked, scouring the treasure-filled building for more useless artifacts that were pure gold to him, he curiously eyed a woman with her hair neatly tied in a bun and generally looking for professional and sexy in her black suit. Her most prominent feature was her interesting eye patch, which Nolan found was just as interesting as his fedoras. The woman herself was, Nolan wasn’t afraid to admit it, easy on the eyes. The corners of his lips curled upwards into a grim smile as he entertained the thought of him approaching the woman, perhaps starting up a conversation, and who knew where it could lead when Nolan was at the reins? He certainly didn’t.

Suddenly, three distinct words were uttered from her mouth, and he stiffened for a moment. The words “I love you” had exited from parted lips, and Nolan was certain of that. He was also rather certain that they didn’t pertain to him, but he decided to use it as an excuse to strike up a conversation with the intriguing lady.

Displaying horrible perfect drama skills, his eyes widened, practically bulging out of their eye sockets (of course, there was nobody that would be able to see that), and his mouth gaped, forming a large O. He stepped back and placed his hands on his cheeks in a bad display of being startled, but most people that watched would’ve immediately detected mock surprise.

“Oh my,” he exclaimed, taking two steps in the direction of the lady. “I’m sorry, but we’ve just met! I’m afraid I don’t roll that way, if you know what I mean.” At this point, a dangerous silly grin threatened to appear on his face, but he managed to swallow it away, and instead, mimicked a genuine smile that appeared a bit too strained. It was probably from the fact that he was trying to not double over in laughter.

[style=float: left; margin-right: 8px; border: 3px solid #F0EEE9; margin-bottom: 4px][/style]Nolan noticed the woman’s eyes were not amused, and inwardly shrugged. He’d tried. You can’t please everybody, he thought optimistically, allowing a grin to dance across his face. His need to laugh, however, died away, burned by the flames of disapproval. He’d hoped that the interesting woman would be a light-hearted individual, but obviously that was not the case. Well, he thought, I can still strive for an intriguing exchange.

He shook his head slightly, his long black hair rustling slightly at the movement. He had his fun. “I apologize, ma’am,” he started graciously, resisting the urge to bow in front of her. The action would most likely be interpreted as an ironic one, and the last thing Nolan needed was for the woman to assume that he was mocking her, even if that had been the case a few moments prior, in retrospect. “Obviously that was no way to treat a lady like you.” The woman wasn’t making it any easier for him to strike up a conversation. He was forced to roll with what he had.

“And what might you be up to on this fine evening?”

He said that sentence while shifting his weight from one leg to another and placed one hand on his hip, lifting the other hand in an inquiring motion. The sentence itself was painfully cliché, and the evening wasn’t even very fine – the steady rainfall made it dreary and depressing. However, he wasn’t about to let that get in his way.

He eyed the eight teenagers curiously, taking note of her body action and the way some of them eyed her. It was far from polite. His smile faded slightly, but he made no actions to somehow deflect their gazes – the notion was foolish and stupid. His gaze returned to the woman, with one brow raised. He tilted his head, a sign of questioning. However, he didn’t expect her to answer his suspicions.

(OOC: I apologize for the inadequate post. I've been struck with a bad case of writer's block.)

[style=float: left; margin-right: 8px; border: 3px solid #F0EEE9; margin-bottom: 4px][/style]Nolan smiled at the beginning of the lady’s words. The corner of his lip lifted slightly, a brow rising marginally. He tilted his head to the left, his eyes sparkling with a hint of amusement at the woman’s overall strange but highly entertaining, with a femme fatale feel to it, demeanor. She was abrasive in speech, but she had attracted Nolan’s attention. The woman’s looking for someone, he thought, bemused. Pity.

However, the rest of the woman’s sentence caught him off guard, causing his body to stiffen and the smile to freeze on his face. Suddenly, the light in his eyes had disappeared, almost as immediately as it’d come. Nolan nervously shifted his weight from one leg to another. The bright red hair could’ve been anybody, but the knack for deliberately grating on peoples’ nerves with his laid-back manner and the fetish for sunglasses that rivaled Nolan’s love for fedoras allowed one sole thought to enter his mind: Lukas Madeleine.

Oh dear, he thought grimly. What has he done now?

Nolan’s posture returned to normal, his breathing slowing down to a more conventional pace. Nolan hadn’t even realized that his breathing quickened. His body relaxed in less than an instant, and the surprise of the male’s description had worn off, almost as though it had been non-existent. Though … in retrospect, the eye patch might have just been a very strange liking of apparel, but now that she was suspected to have a connection with Lukas, it now appeared very intimidating with a vast history behind it. It seemed that Nolan’s take on her character had been shifted slightly. Now she could’ve very well been some sort of assassin, like him, knowing thousands of different ways to kill, stealthily and silently.

There were a lot of things for Nolan to assume, now that Lukas Madeleine was involved.

“I see,” he murmured softly, loud enough for only him to hear. He brought his hand up to his chin, and, resting his propped-up elbow on his other arm, he offered the woman a kind grin. However, the sentiments failed to reach his eyes, a new coldness settling in. It wasn’t anxiety … it was caution.

“I’m glad you asked,” he replied smoothly. Internally, he was glad for the subject change. “I’ve come to this place, originally with no set goal in mind. Perhaps … mindless wandering?” He raised an eyebrow, as if questioning his own statement. “However, a very cute-looking accessory shop caught my eye, due to my excellent peripheral vision. And so, I found myself with this,” he finished, holding up his shopping back. “Can you guess what might be in here?”

[style=float: left; margin-right: 8px; border: 3px solid #F0EEE9; margin-bottom: 4px][/style]The woman averted her gaze, turning her head to look elsewhere. To the conventional person, the action would not have registered as one with meaning. To the conventional person, it was one of those mindless gestures that made a human, human. However, to the observant, experienced eye, it could be interpreted through thorough observation and analytical skill.

Nolan’s head cocked to the side slightly, his smile bemused and light-hearted, though his eyes were far from entertained. The light in his eye was slightly intimidating, and the way he handled himself was no longer casual and frivolous. He gingerly allowed the smile to widen, but his mind was elsewhere, inquiring, asking questions and expecting answers.

Why did she turn away?

Nolan knew that he wanted to tread lightly with this one, so he assumed the worst: this young, regrettably attractive woman knew Lukas, and was out for his blood. The woman was a vicious carnivore seeking vengeance for a wrong that Lukas had done, and was now probing public areas for information on him, which … wasn’t the best way to go about things, considering who he was. Nolan could’ve assumed that she was merely a simple woman drooling at the idea of revenge, but he urged himself to think over-think things rather than taking chances. It was better to shoot over, in this case.

So, under the assumption that this woman was an incredibly dangerous murderer and assassin (she most certainly looked the part), he first went with the simplest thing that would pop into his brain. She noticed something, though this was obvious. She didn’t seem like the type to just turn her head at the thought of something. Nolan had gathered that she was a fairly straightforward, stoic woman, the kind that wouldn’t easily break her gaze over you. The only thing that had happened so far was, other than the rather pleasant conversation that was currently in progress, Nolan tensing up at the description of the man she was looking for.

Good grief, Nolan. Maybe I should consider going to acting school … or something.

The woman looked back at him and replied in kind, keeping up the chipper conversation. Nolan made sure to not make any visible, outward movements, retaining a lethargic pose and a wry smirk.

“Ding, ding, ding. We’ve got a winner over here. Somebody get this woman a prize,” he said graciously, reaching into his shopping bag and pulling out the pretty fedora colored olive green. “It’s pretty great, if I do say so myself.”

Nolan eyed the woman with mock cheekiness. “You don’t have much room to make fun of my fedoras, though. You seem to fancy a rather unconventional article of clothing yourself.”

(OOC: So ... yeah. You're making Nolan paranoid. Achievement get.)

[style=float: left; margin-right: 8px; border: 3px solid #F0EEE9; margin-bottom: 4px][/style]The woman’s visage remained complacent, which, based on what had already occurred and what Nolan gathered about her personality, was delightfully surprising. However, the joy he felt from avoiding a rather sharp expression faded when the woman cut down his fashion sense. He still kept the quiet smirk decorating his facial expression, though.

“What do you have against green? It’s a wonderful colour,” he replied coolly, battling fire with ice. “Somebody here quite clearly does not have an eye for fashion.” He shot her a slight grin. Shifting his weight from one leg to another, he continued: “Green looks great with a variety of colours. For example, a nice green, collared shirt and khakis? Sexy, my lady. Now, if we just put a cute little fedora on our man’s head, then we’ve got ourselves a work of art.” He spread his arms, the grin still plastered to his face as though it were glued on.

The woman looked infuriating, and for a slight second, Nolan was almost intimidated by the sight. He, however, made sure that no exterior movements were made. He’d have to work on that. He simply leaned on a column to his right, folding his arms across his chest and swinging a leg over the other. Tilting his head slightly, he allowed his black hair to fall over his shoulders. He tried for a sweet, genuine smile, saying, “Forgive me. I simply cannot stand here idly when somebody goes about cutting down my most adored piece of apparel.”

Her facial expression changed. Her lips revealed a rather frightening smile, a low, intimidating chuckle escaping parted lips.

Does … she think she’s that scary?

He, however, refused to back down from what seemed like a telepathic threat. “That’s a beautiful smile you’ve got there,” he said, chuckling on the inside, a hint of sarcasm heavily coated by pretty words.

“Me? Certainly not. I just shine brighter than those who lack common sense, is all.” He sighed, his head as though he were disappointed greatly in modern day youth, unfolding his arms to form a light-hearted shrug.

Nolan scrutinized her figure—she seemed to be relaxing. A satisfied smile quietly crept onto his face, though it was not as far-fetched as the other goofy grins that he’d launched in her direction. It was calm and slight, lopsided and crooked. It was a lot less exuberant than the smirks preceding it, and with a touch of gentleness. The little grin lasted only a second before it widened; transforming back into that over-the-top dorky grin that showed his pearly white teeth—a lot more artificial, just the way Nolan liked it.

He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t feel victorious when a cheerfully vicious smile was flashed his way—he was learning to get used to the woman’s odd disposition, and he was enjoying himself thoroughly. It was like he was taming a wild beast, little by little, and slowly achieving total obedience. A co-worker of his might have called it sadistic, but Nolan didn’t think it was so bad to take over when he knew that he was good at it.

The inflation of his ego surpassed what he’d initially thought possible when the purple-haired woman seemed to be almost flattered, which, in turn, flattered Nolan to a degree that he couldn’t describe. His eyes widened slightly, and he could almost feel the pride in his chest welling up. He’d tamed her! Ha!

“Of course,” he continued, unable to let the chance of continuing the flow of the conversation to pass. “I wouldn’t compliment a lady if I didn’t mean it.”

This was a blatant lie.

His thoughts trailed off, until they reached a certain point that caused his countenance to darken, to cause his body to stiffen slightly once more as he recalled the painfully recent memories. He could shake off the feeling that the woman was indeed thirsting for the blood of Lukas Madeleine, and he knew that he had to do something about it—if he got himself killed by the woman (thought, at this point, he highly doubted it), he wouldn’t be able to try to piss him off as per usual. It took a lot to piss of the red-haired dope—the epitome of chill—but he tried anyway, and he felt he’d been getting closer to his goal. He couldn’t have him getting killed, now could he?

He took a deep breath. He knew he would be getting himself into a substantial amount of needless strife, but all the same, he felt strangely compelled to pry. Casually resting his gaze on the woman, he asked: “This red-haired man … seems like an intriguing character. Do you know when he’ll be showing up?” To accentuate this point, his gaze seemed to sweep the mall, as though he were looking out for any red-haired men.

Good grief, was what he thought, though he retained the quirky smirk that was becoming natural to him.

(OOC: We've had our fun. Now for serious shizz.)

The woman didn’t seem to change on the exterior. He was actually surprised to find that she’d casually wormed her way into the conversation once more, refusing to lose the cool guise that she’d crafted. Nolan couldn’t help but purse his lips thoughtfully. A few minutes prior, the black-haired man would’ve called the woman hot-blooded and trigger happy, based on what he’d studiously observed. However, she seemed to have an uncanny self-assured air about her, unsettling Nolan, though he also retained his laid-back persona. It was slowly becoming a battle of deceit and sneaky prying.

The Irish man shrugged, nonchalant. His lazy smile was back for more. “I suppose so,” he replied smoothly, still leaning on a nearby column. He had his arms folded across his chest and his legs crossed—he would’ve described himself as the epitome of suave right then and there. Unfortunately, the woman in question was not a ditzy airhead that was easily toyed with.

Nolan cocked a curious brow upwards; she was definitely trying to gather some well-needed information about him. Of course, Nolan was going under the assumption that the red-haired, sunglasses fanatic was Lukas. In the situation presented to him, it was much safer to overshoot. “I don’t know. He sounds like a cool person—red hair, sunglasses. I guess.” He tried not to choke on the word “cool”. “I’m just wondering what he’s like. After all, he’s making you wait out here by yourself with absolutely no company. Obviously he’s not a gentleman,” he purred, almost seductively, but he was careful not to push it—the woman seemed … touchy. He also indulged in the quiet thrill he received when he insulted the red-haired assassin. It was a small victory for Mr. Shiloh!

His gaze followed her as they both swept the mall for the said stranger with a thing for sunglasses. The man didn’t really expect anything. He doubted Lukas would be around in the mall, anyway.

The woman’s outburst startled him. In retrospect, he should have seen it coming—he knew he was prying, and he knew that the woman didn’t want him to know anything about it. Judging from her anger, he guessed that she hated the red-haired man with a passion, probably due to something personal.

The woman tugged at his new and shiny fedora, unconsciously pulling him close. Her words slid out of from between her lips, hissing like a snake. Nolan’s eyes widened slightly, but he made no move to retreat. In fact, he almost moved in closer, being the abominable person he was. His hands were rested on his hips, complacent, his weight shifted to one foot as the woman let go.

He leaned back, his lips pursed. The woman wanted him to leave. He looked around—already, people were beginning to notice the odd pair. Both intoxicatingly attractive, but also dangerously intimidating. The black-haired man didn’t seem just like the goofy man he’d set out to be, and the woman’s good mood hung on by a thread, like a ticking bomb just waiting to blow up in your face. Needless to say, they were left alone, but not without inquiring, sidelong glances shot in their direction. They bounced off of Nolan harmlessly.

Nolan lifted his shoulders and then let them fall, his hands crammed into the comfort of his pockets. He wasn’t going to be here when things got “ugly”, as the woman had put it—it would probably be a hassle to deal with. A smirk crawled onto his face, condescending and arrogant, lopsided and sardonic. He wasn’t going to put up with this woman.

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be leaving,” he replied graciously, with a sweep of his arm and a ceremonious bow. The tone in his voice, however, wasn’t happy-go-lucky. His words were soaked in poison, the words quiet and still, like a viper before it struck.

With those words, he casually turned on the balls of his feet and sauntered off, the smirk yet to leave his visage.

(OOC: Sorry it took long. You can end the thread now.)