Blake's working the field as always, when Ellie arrives. This is far from her first event with him since he became her patron, and she's stopped being quite so unsure around him. He's charismatic, compelling, the type of guy to get people fired up about a cause or an idea. And when that fails, he can quietly maneuver people into what he wants.
Ellie's been surrounded by people playing the game since she was a teenager, and she has to wonder exactly what angles he's played with her, but she's stopped caring in the last year or so.
He's a good patron. Consistent and reliable, doesn't ask her to do anything shady or weird. And weirdly enough, he actually seems to care about people other than himself sometimes.
It goes off well; Ellie performs a newer song, something she arranged specifically for this campaign, something beautiful but faintly haunting, the kind of thing the stuffed shirts love to listen to. To shiver at, secure in the knowledge that they'll always be safe.
For them it's just a fantasy.
After, with her guitar packed away and her makeup touched up -- Nathan and Glimmer taught her well -- Ellie heads out to the bar to sign polite autographs, pose for the odd picture, and scoop up the drink she knows Blake won't begrudge her.
Sipping it, she heads over to his side as the rest of the guests are leaving, letting the stinging taste of the alcohol coat her tongue.
"Next time," Ellie repeats, running her tongue along her lower lip, thinking of the people in the area that won't have a next time, and never will again.
"It's a hard sell, compassion and equal rights for proven criminals." It's heavily laced with sarcasm, that edge of dark humor. Her voice is low, though, and nobody's really around to hear her obliquely talking shit.
VIP
Ellie's been surrounded by people playing the game since she was a teenager, and she has to wonder exactly what angles he's played with her, but she's stopped caring in the last year or so.
He's a good patron. Consistent and reliable, doesn't ask her to do anything shady or weird. And weirdly enough, he actually seems to care about people other than himself sometimes.
It goes off well; Ellie performs a newer song, something she arranged specifically for this campaign, something beautiful but faintly haunting, the kind of thing the stuffed shirts love to listen to. To shiver at, secure in the knowledge that they'll always be safe.
For them it's just a fantasy.
After, with her guitar packed away and her makeup touched up -- Nathan and Glimmer taught her well -- Ellie heads out to the bar to sign polite autographs, pose for the odd picture, and scoop up the drink she knows Blake won't begrudge her.
Sipping it, she heads over to his side as the rest of the guests are leaving, letting the stinging taste of the alcohol coat her tongue.
"Next time," Ellie repeats, running her tongue along her lower lip, thinking of the people in the area that won't have a next time, and never will again.
"It's a hard sell, compassion and equal rights for proven criminals." It's heavily laced with sarcasm, that edge of dark humor. Her voice is low, though, and nobody's really around to hear her obliquely talking shit.