mrofontaine

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"If there was anyone who could deliver every time, I'd put my money on you." Nudging her with his shoulder, hoping it'll loosen up any tension she might've been harbouring because of the fight. Though it hadn't been bad by any use of the word. He'd been impressed: as he dropped his gaze just a little. "Sure, there wasn't," nothing more to it, that was. But the added extra was enough to leave him wondering. He simply kept it to himself. Olivier had a lot of time for Nevra, which had been slow to come to fruition, and while he wouldn't call them best friends, there was a friendship of some sorts there.

How did he feel about getting into the ring with Varden? The look he cut her was telling enough, an unhumored snort leaving his mouth. Not good. "I'm feelin' like my ass is about to get kicked like a football." And the French would get a laugh out of it, as they always did when he got into the ring.

He didn't have a streak of luck on his side. "You could flash him a smile, distract him for me..." he was, of course, kidding. That boyish grin he still sported into adulthood followed. "Drink? Maybe some ice?"

"Even I can't deliver every time. Giordana was just better than me tonight. Nothing more to it." There sure as hell was more to it but she Nevra wasn't about to admit that out loud. "What about you? Should I expect you to land every blow on Varden tonight? I feel like you got lucky there, fighting someone from your own group. Lara must not hate you." It was more likely the woman just hated other people more and Olivier got off easy this time. Although, from what she knew about the French assassin, maybe it wasn't going to be so easy.

[mrofontaine]

FOR: @val-dautremer EVENT: Fight Club, 2025. LOCATION: The Underground. Post Female fights.

Olivier took the seat, though he'd asked for an invitation beforehand. Sliding it, his legs crossed as he took a chance to survey the room. It was always the way with him -- never able to fully let the job go. Even on nights like tonight, his eye had stayed on a few of his people. Delphine, Val, Lisette (even if she hated him as if he was a Russian himself), Ophélie: among the rest.

"Val," he greeted with a nod of his head and a raise of his glass. "Good to see you as always." And he meant that, wholeheartedly. He always did when it came to Yves' wife. Though she was revered in her own right. "Your husband is probably gonna' get a laugh out of my upcoming demise," though his lips upturned.

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FOR: @erdogan-nevra EVENT: Fight Club, 2025. LOCATION: The Underground. Post Female fights.

"Dye your hair red, and I'll start callin' you Kim Impossible." a flash of that overly glowing smile. "Y'know," Olivier started, keeping his distance as he approached. Hands were slung into his pockets, shoulders pulled back as he towered over her sitting form. "..." he opened his mouth and closed it again. "You put up a good fight..." but he wanted to ask why she hadn't finished her. Olivier knew how Nevra fought, had seen it once. "Was expecting a K.O."

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FOR: @mobscene-starters EVENT: Fight Club, 2025. WHERE: The Underground. Pre-fights.

Turning up with Genevieve had turned a few heads, especially those who'd known their previous situation and not much of their current one. Having a child had turned them into something akin to friends attempting to co-parent a child while working for the same outfit. It came with its own complications, but they'd been actively working at it — still, this had been new territory.

Coming together, instead of just happening upon the same territory through different work ventures. At some point, however, their paths had diverged to different groups, and he had to admit — he'd needed the break.

Especially after he'd heard who he'd been pitted against.

Varden was gonna' make an example outta' him. Olivier trained, and to a great degree, considering who he was hired to protect: but there was a certain level even he'd never been able to maintain.

"On a scale of one to a hundred — you think I'll walk away as I did after the Baranovsky fight in 2021?"

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OLIVIER FONTAINE | FIGHT CLUB 2025.

Accompanied by Genevieve Dupont (NPC)

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FOR: OPEN TO ALL. TAGS: @mobscene-starters WHEN: March, 2025. WHERE: Westminster, Quilon Resturant (£££). NPCS: Léna Roux, Genevieve Dupont.

Genevieve's being here had never crossed his mind.

The mother of his child, Gen, was also French aligned, and worked for them from time to time. Though, he felt guilty for realising he should've asked. Being a parent truly drained his energy, but he made a mental note to check in with her. It'd been a long time since the two had worked side by side as they had done in Paris. The French milled around, the entire restaurant booked out for mostly them — the other side of the room was those who could afford to eat here.

His gaze caught hers, a tug of his lips as they swapped a nod of heads before they moved on. Nostalgic was a word that he could use when it came to seeing her like this. Among their kind. However, it was Léna Roux's shadow that cast his view moments later. A chirpy looking thing, with vibrant red hair and a killer smile.

"You've been quiet recently." Léna nudged, a baritone-styled laughter burst from between his lips in response.

"I haven't required any special cleaning services, might be why." he paused. "Gen's here."

It took only a second for it to register, as she took a peek around the room before that smile dulled. Fuck's sake, what now? "Incoming — they look pissed off," was all she responded before straightening up. Olivier simply turned to look over his shoulder.

"Hey."

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Chris in the sauna! Yummy!

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CHRIS HEMSWORTH My mates and I give our new gym a workout

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It took him only a few seconds, and when he spotted what he was looking for: reality hit him square in the mother fucking face. "You're drinking...my drink Ayda." he pointed. "The one I made for you is still over there." when he looked at her eyes, he realised why his hadn't kicked in yet -- he must've picked up one of the guys who'd let twenty minutes ago.

Fuck.

Here Olivier was, telling her to take it slow -- and he'd unknowingly thrown her into what could be the wildest night of her life. "There was LSD in my drink..." he admits out loud, eyes slowly going from her cup, or his cup...back to her face. Oh, the guilt was going to eat him alive if she freaked out.

"Are...shit, I'm sorry Ayda. I should've warned you."

Ayda was learning to slowly indulge with a few drinks. It was learning to develop a healthy relationship with it, that a few drinks allowed her body to relax and she could enjoy herself. Life had continuously thrown curve balls at her, that learning who her partner was for the night two nights, that she could let down her wall and have fun.

Olivier was a perfect gentleman the first night, even though, if he would have hinted at it, she would have been more than willing to get reacquainted with each other in that manner. Who know what the night would bring, but if the opportunity was presented, she wouldn't say no.

The first drink had hit her, eyes narrowing at him playfully at his rendition of the song, knowing that he was teasing her. "I should make you play again." She wouldn't, ready to get the night started.

"I'm drinking the drink you made for me?" Her brows knit together in confusion, pointing to where she got it. "That was my drink, right?" She went to finish it off.

"Why wouldn't I be feeling okay?"

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"...if coffee has a 35.7 percent alcohol content, then sure mate...it's coffee." in all honesty, he hadn't expected to find him here. "What the fuck dude," Olivier belted a laugh, a grin on his lips. Wow. He'd actually managed to find his bed the night prior: for once...it wasn't him. Tonight, however, he made no promises. "Obviously not old enough if you're still doing it..." he dropped into a seat. "I ain't gettin' you coffee..." he added a moment later. "I'm hanging out my arse."

THE NEXT DAY

He fell asleep by the fire.

"Tell me that's coffee." He said, as he slowly got up from the ground , cleaning off the dirt off of his shoulder. "Don't ask me. I was talking to someone, and I remember them offering me a threesome in their tent, but they wanted a chase game... I'm too old for this shit."

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"Gods been looking over me recently," and he meant that — his life had been on the up, far more than it had in years previous. Elaina was so unapologetically her. At all times. Without any care for impressing people, and it was something he'd always admired...wished he had that strength in him, as she did. His grin only grew: for all those rough edges he'd grown to know and love, the crass jokes that left him wincing for their non-physical punching bag lands and that...realness — Elaina was as close to someone he'd ever been that didn't take his shit. And he fucking loved it. Sought it out, even. "Miss Cunty Blunty it is, then. My apologies for the oversight, Your Highness." he corrected, with a head tilt.

He was already picking up the guitar, with a knowing smirk on his face: she didn't want something that'd embarrass her...so he'd do the oppiste. "This is a cover of one of my favorite songs, I'll be seeing you...but for my friends sake...I'm gonna' sing it in French."

It was over so quickly, and after a stellar (in his opinion, he was on drugs) he found himself bounding over to Elaina, dancing in between as he felt the effects begining to kick in: oh, this was gonna' be fucking good, he thought. Like a puppy waiting for approval. "Well, Queen bee? What d'ya think?"

It was good to be out of her head, even if it was just momentarily. Her shoulders had relaxed, she had an easy grin on her face (thanks to the coke and the whiskey) and she was just letting herself feel good. After so much which had happened, there was a part in Elaina who realised that life wasn't going to be long. It wasn't long for many of them, so she might as well enjoy those little moments of happiness she got.

"Let's not bring God into this, please." She shook her head as she leaned back on the seat. "Hey, I'm just giving you what you wanted. You took the drugs, and the drugs are working. " Elaina quoted her own song at him. "So now just be in the moment and take the shade."

"It's Miss Cunty Blunty, please. Do you see a ring on this finger?" She showed off her finger, but it was the middle one. "Just don't sing anything awful."

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Olivier couldn't complain about his time at the Camp Out thus far, although he always mantained an edge at anything where they lumped everyone together without celluar devices for a weekend — too him, it screamed disaster waiting to happen...but he could only go by his own choices when he'd handed it over. Beside that niggle, he was thoroughly enjoying himself, as he found a new chord sequence that he hadn't yet explored, a grin finding his features as he plucked it out.

Ayda being his partner had aided towards the time he was having. If not for the stellar company, and the fact she didn't want to murder him...though, nothing had happened, as of yet...in his drug-fuelled, drunken haze and the fact, that he couldn't deny she was attractive...he wasn't sure he'd be able to say no.

Even if one person didn't come to mind...blonde hair, cutting smile. But he banished what couldn't be, and heard the voice calling from the tent, with a grin. He was waiting for the LSD to kick in, honestly. And he had a whole other thirty minutes before he began to feel the effects, he was sure.

"One drink," Olivier confirmed, begining to hum a tune. "Promise." he finished with, between whatever this earworm he was creating and seeing her appear, as he flashed that same grin he'd been wearing for the past hour. When Ayda asked after his singing, he purposefully, and abnoxiously turned to hear and began playing his own rendition of The Greatest Song in the World by Jack Black, unable to stop the laughter throughout the attempt: and giving up a quater of the way in.

"Happy?" He teased, placing the guitar down as he pushed to stand. "Yeah we can go...." he stopped, only long enough to look at her drink. "Ayda...what're you drinking?" it was with new panic he looked to find his own drink.

No, no, no, no, fucking no.

"Are..you — feeling okay?"

where: outside their tent when: night two who: @mrofontaine

The first night fared well and there was no disaster. She took into consideration Gideon's words. It also helped that she enjoyed the company of her tent mate, his size providing heat that she didn't go cold, it was quite the opposite; he was furnace.

"One drink Olivier," he called out, knowing that he was outside their tent waiting for her, and managed to obtain two drinks. Pulling her sweater on, Ayda appeared from inside the tent, noticing the way he fussed with his guitar. "It's been awhile since I heard you sing." A smile on her lips, reaching down to grab the first drink in sight, taking a big gulp. Lately, there had been some indulgence with everything weighing her down, and one would let her body relax enough.

The burn was welcoming, finding herself taking another small sip, turning her attention to Olivier. "Are we ready to go to the fire?"

[mrofontaine]

FOR: FRENCH BROS (inclusive of females.) EVENT: The Camp Out, 24' WHERE: The firepit. Busy. Loud.

"So I was thinking..." pulling the bluetooth speaker out, as he heard the connected sound. "The second Divya walks out...hit play on Backbone by stormzy, the part where it says 'you ain't got no backbone.' and you've all gotta chant it as loud as you fucking can at her...it's been a while since we got to do 'watch me while you tiptoe', so." turning on the spot, he grinned. "Whose in?"

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Olivier hadn't hit his peak yet, but the LSD was doing God's work, and for that, he was thankful. "Off my face, y'know, the weekend 'I can't feel my face when I'm with you." — but just the psychedelic version." he was happy, it'd been a long time coming: the last six months had been some of the best he'd had, and that was evident in who he was. He wasn't moping after a girl, or worrying about his brother, or Isla, or Camille...no, he was just happy to be here.

And as he watched her take the shots, his brows shot up.

"Jesus, Elaina," Olivier laughed, that bluntness. It was never-changing. She'd been this way for as long as he could remember, and while upon a time it'd gotten under his skin, he'd found himself getting used to the way she was. Who she was. “Casanova?" he snorts, pursing his lips to stop the brash laughter that threatened to erupt. "That’s low, even for you.”

"Just remember, you agreed to this." he says, pointing to the guitar. "And, for your information, Mrs-Cunty-Blunty," he was joking, a grin shining through. "I just wanted to spend time with you."

Just the look on her face could have told him what she was thinking. Which was that he was fucking crazy. "You're... What?" Elaina certainly wasn't drunk for the second hand embarrassment. Not that Olivier was a bad musician - she just found those moments awkward as fuck. It definitely wasn't her cup of tea.

"If you're doing that..." Good thing there was a tray of shots in front of her and Elaina did all four. "Okay. You can sing now. I think I can manage." There were two more shots left on the tray. A reserve. "That tone tells me you want something serious and tonight is not the night for that. So go on, go sing to the crowd, Casanova."

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"You have a little, okay, some terrible taste. You picked Jacob. But it can't be all bad. I mean...you once found me attractive, did you not?" It was open, it was easy. Their friendship had always bordered on the more flirtatious side until it'd soured mixed communications. He'd wanted freedom, she'd wanted...well, he was never quite sure. Did he want to sparkle in the sun? A snort breaking free. "I was trying to think of a way to making sparkling in the sun sexy, but I've come up quite blank." Offering a sheepish grin. "Never a complaint, doll."

She had heard some about Genevieve. It was nice that their relationship was working, considering they shared a daughter together. "Team Edward?" Ayda was surprised to hear this. "I promise I won't tell anyone." A smirk lays on her lips. "I do not have terrible taste, well, perhaps on the former." She teases him, having no regret about the night they shared. "They sparkle. Are you telling me you want to sparkle in the sun Olivier?" A small blush to her cheeks, one she couldn't help. "You didn't complain then." She points out.

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FOR: @elainahalevyx EVENT: The Camp Out, 24' WHERE: Close to the firepit.

"Well, I'm off my fuckin' face, so you've got one of two options." A smug smile on his lips, bottle buzzed alongside it, as he took another swig. "You can come over and listen to me play the guitar by the firepit and make women...swoon." he wasn't overacting, it was lighthearted, a chuckle following as he turned his gaze to the burning fire. "Or we can take a walk," nudging her with an elbow. "Feel like we rarely get time like we used to anymore." Many nights they'd spent talking, not talking...he missed her.