He Who Is of An Unsound Mind

Chapter 1~ Lovely Lady

"Bartender, could you pour me another, please~"

The sultry voice of one, Dior Kirsten, fell alluringly on the ears of those sat at the bar, women and men alike. Glazed eyes hidden behind long, fluttering lashes stared longingly at the man before her. A lovely lady.

The sleeves of her dress shirt were unbuttoned and cuffed slightly on her brown arms. Dior's waistcoat and matching dress pants seemed to have been daily attire, maybe perhaps an outfit following the dress code of her occupation, or that is what the bartender pouring drinks in her presence seemed to observe.

He hadn't known what she did for a living but she and her colleagues frequented this club after working hours. However, he had never seen her drink. Maybe ice-cold, sparkling water but never anything alcoholic. He had thought she just didn't drink but a tipsy Dior in front of him seemed to oppose this hypothesis.

"I would love to take more of your money darling but I'm not pouring you anymore," he smiled.

"But don't you want my money~" she slurred happily.

"Yes but you're not nearly big enough to handle five whiskeys, you're lucky I even gave you the one in your hand," he pointed.

He did slide her a tall glass of cold, bubbly water. She stared him straight in the eyes, practically begging with those dark, enchanting eyes. He had to force his attention away from the woman, surely he would eventually gift her with the alcohol she so longingly craved if he hadn't.

A loud rush of air escaped her lips as she let out an audible sigh. Without a second thought, she took a swig from the carbonated water, being sure not to chug. She knew he was probably ready to call her a taxi and ship her off back to her home, as had happened with oh so many of her own friends.

Deciding to save him the trouble, she gulped down the last of the chilled water and hopped off the barstool. She nodded his way and shot him a knowing smile and he returned the gesture.

"Welp it's pretty dark already so it seems like I actually have to spend money on someone to drive me home," she breathed.

Continuing forward, Dior stepped right to the edge of the pavement, pointed dress shoes practically swinging over the edge. She reached an arm out and stared directly into the traffic.

'Calling would have been more efficient seeing that I'm less likely to get kidnapped that way,' she thought as a beaming yellow pulled off to her side.

Between pulling the door open and greeting the driver, she was readily overthinking her choice.

Maybe waiting 15 minutes for a traceable car would have been better.

...

"Ah, thank you for the ride, and that's fourteen dollars and fifty cents for you..." she trailed off.

With a nod and the payment from his client, he happily drove back out of the neighbourhood. And Dior was particularly happy she hadn't been abducted by some random cab driver.

"What a lovely trait, O yee overthinking of mine," she sighed.

Her tired form dragged itself into the small, humble abode she knew as home. The clank of her keys echoed off of the neutral wall but not before she had securely locked the door behind her.

Even though she hadn't been at all ready to leave the bar before, now she was already slouched on the couch dozing in and out of sleep. It had to have been the commute to her home that left her this way.

'My my~ the wonders of driving,'

+++

"If you'll do it then I'll do it,"