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She was impatient, her attention flickering back towards the entrance to the club, still searching for her rendezvous. Her stared at her intently and at first she didn’t notice, then she looked back to see where her drink was and she was caught by his gaze.
Vincent’s instinct was always right. Even after all these years he had never been mistaken. There was a defiance in this girl, a spirit he had identified even across a busy street as she’d stabbed out a text message on her phone.
These were the ones he sought, these brave ones that kept a fire lit inside. A fire of a little anger and a little aggression and a small but powerful nucleous of will. They held as sacrosanct the knowledge that backing down was the same as defeat. These little fighters were his treasure because when she caught his stare he knew with certainty that she would stare at him right back.
That was all he needed in the darkness of the club, amid the sweat and heat and raucous sound. She held his gaze at first with defiance and then, gradually, she smiled and as Vincent’s talent kicked in, a rising electricity of base desire, he knew that all thought of her missing companion was gone.
She blushed and batted her eyes prettily as Vincent handed her the replacement drink.
“Dance?” he asked. She scowled playfully and looked down at the fresh drink in mock frustration. Then she gulped it down and dragged Vincent by his sleeve onto the heaving dancefloor.
*
“Where are we going?” she giggled as they ran hand in hand up the dark and deserted main street.
“Ha!” snorted Vincent, “Anywhere, we like. Where would you like to go?” She pulled up, out of breath and still sniggering drunkenly. She turned to face him and put her arms around him, interlinking her fingers at the nape of his neck.
“I would like to go to Paris.” She said. “And see Jim Morrison’s grave.”
“What, now?” Said Vincent playfully. “He’ll be asleep.”
She giggled and looked into his eyes again, as she had all night. She couldn’t stop herself, she thought, they were like some kind of compulsion. She felt light and happy like she hadn’t in a long while, just being in his company.
She didn’t know his name and she hadn’t told him hers and there was a kind of freedom in their mutual anonymity. Freedom from shit obligations and treadmill routine that threatened to crush every last ounce of life from her. Tonight he had coloured in the grey parts of her life and it was exhilarating.
He observed her calmly, taking in her rosy cheeks and the strands of blonde the she peeped through with her striking green eyes. Her chest heaved slightly as her breathing returned to normal and she shifted her weight from foot to foot impatiently.
“Hungry?” She asked.
“Starving.” Replied Vincent.
“There’s a kebab place down there, you want to get something?” She said.
“Gah, I hate those places.” Said Vincent. “Come on, I know.” He took her hand he led her up the street. She glanced sideways at him mischievously and picked up her pace, forcing him to keep up quicker and quicker until they were running again and their laughs rang off the dark shopfronts and echoed in the stillness of the sleeping town.