A Collection of Imagines

Harry

Love

I hate this already. The room is filled with old white men that stare at any woman that happens to be walking by. They stand there with their old tuxes and custom pipes. Speaking to other members of their employment, who are all male. They continue on the sexist conversation that leaves out any room for diversity. I hate socials like these. My mother insists on taking me to these things to meet "eligible bachelors." I thought this was the 21st century, not the 18th. 

My shoes clad the pavement as I shove my hands into my dress pant pockets. I take a drag from my cig, allowing the smoke to enter my lungs. I put the cigarette in between my pointer and middle finger, letting the smoke out of my system. One of my guys taps me on the shoulder to turn left. I enter the prestigious lobby of the most expensive hotel in London. God, these fucking politicians. I drop the cig and ash it underneath my dress shoe. One of the security guards steps forwards in front of me. I don't say anything as I take a couple of hundreds out of my pocket and wave it in front of him. He looks at me, then to my guys, and then back to me. I smile at him once his eyes are back on me. He steps aside. I take a step forward and pat him the shoulder. I make it to the elevator and press the upwards button. I wait impatiently. 

My mother shoves me towards someone. He looks about 25 maybe. His face says 'friendly', but his dress coat and sweater vest say 'rich douche'. She goes off about my achievements at Cambridge, even though I've told her multiple times that I hated that place. She turns towards me and asks for him if I would like to dance with him. By the look on his face, he wasn't expecting that either, but at this point, I should be used to it by now. My mother, the prime minister, is full of surprises. He takes my hand before I could answer and pulls me towards the open floor. I groan to myself and shoot my mother a deathly glare that she doesn't pick up on. I hate this so much. 

The elevator door opens and we walk in. I shuffle my weight from side to side. I just need to get in there, scout the chief of police, and get out. No funny business, no games. Just in and out. The doors open to reveal a large ballroom on the top floor. Nothing too special. It's just a gathering of old government pricks and a few sub-par looking women. I walk into the room as my guys guard the elevator and they watch me wander about the large ballroom. I scan it for the small snarky man that they call the chief of police. When I finally spot him, I lean against a pillar. The fat fuck converses with some sort of rich guy about something that is inaudible to me. My eyes scan the rest of the room. There are a few couples on the dance floors. One catches me in particular. A girl. A woman of about 23 or 24. She's wearing a black dress that clings to her upper body and then flares out at the end. Her hair tied up in the back, so I can see her whole face. From where I stand, I can see a plethora of freckles dotting her face. She looks beautifully miserable. She appears as though she wants to shoot herself as she's dancing with this rich prick. I smile as I lean off of the pillar. I walk to my right, patrolling around the wooden dance floor. 

We sway slowly to the elevator music. I mean jazz music. He starts to talk about something concerning sailing or chess. I don't know what it actually is, but I'm not paying attention. I nod and smile from time to time as I look off somewhere else. A pair of dark eyes lock with mine. A man tall enough to tower over me twice is circling the dance floor. His dress shirt flares open to show off a little bit of his chest and by the looks of it, he has a few tattoos littered across his exposed skin. His long hair is styled around his sculpted facial features. His hands dressed with a few rings and a few more tattoos peek through the bottom of his sleeves. He's not from here and now I'm extremely curious. He hasn't taken his eyes off of me and I can't take mine off of him either. He starts walking out of my view and I want to be subtle, so I didn't turn around to see if he's still looking at me. I bite down on my bottom lip, hoping no one notices.