Mar 19 15:24:20 106 PA
From Chronicles
The club is a liberal mix of modern and classic styles with a dark, warm lean to the hardwood and metal decor, dressed up with velvet and leather. Set up about the stage with attached DJ station and dance floor at the center, the entrance is set to one end of this, the bar to the other. The entrance itself is tightly controlled. There are always two well dressed people at the front, a bouncer to check each person coming in and another watching the drum and closet lockers that hold all patron weapons.
A broad , semi circular stage extends from the center of the widest wall, rising two feet, with lights rimming the edge and hidden in scaffolds high above. A rich red velvet curtain lies ready to sweep about and veil the stage itself from view. The DJ booth is set up right next to the stage, set into the same wall. With a thick window and biometric locks on the two side doors, one to the stage and the other to a set of stairs down, the equipment within is secure. Within a C shaped desk and racks hold the sound equipment, all linked into a central computer. All done up in sleek, dark cases, mixing well with the warm, wood paneling of the booth's exterior.
A dance floor is central to the club, laid out in a broad circle before the stage. Laid out in a semi circle opposite the stage side of the dance floor are a series of round tables, with smaller two person sized ones at the edge, with larger four person tables in the next row and a few grand six to eight person tables on the outer edge. All staggered to make for the best view for all to the dance floor and stage. To one side of this central focus is the bar, a broad affair taking up much of the shorter wall in width. The bar itself is a mix of modern and classic, with the simple, elegant hardwood design of the bar itself mixing with the display of alcohol behind it, opaque plastic shelves lit from within to highlight the wide selection of common and uncommon liquors for sale. The barstools themselves, lined up in a neat row, mix dark metallic stems with comfy red leather seats.
Late march. Still cold, still snowing, whatever happened to out like a lamb?! A few brave souls dart in half-frozen from vehicles dressed in club gear, but a remarkable number of jackets and boots pile around tables, where the drinkers half watch them. Sebastien could be counted amongst the frozen ones, rubbing his arms and looking pale enough to match is silver top and hair spikes, the black of his leather and red sweep of his eyeliner standing in stark relief. Stomping his feet and darting for the bar, the young man looks for something warm.
Something warm is the dance floor, the DJ music break from the live shows has a few souls moving there, some with more enthusiasm than others. To one side, the black haired pathologist is jumping in time to the music, her arms in the air, her eyes closed, utterly oblivious to any attempts by the hopeful young male dancing near her. The pleated skirt works well with this type of dancing, if your intent is to show off legs honed by walking miles at work. The bunches too, they jump along with her, slightly off rhythm, off beat.
Sebastien hits the bar long enough to wave at a busy tender and spin on his stool, shoulders back, woven shirt stretched tight across his chest. He raises an eyebrow at the clump on the floor, smirking at that. "They are like echoes," he murmurs. "Though it is a sad day when you cannot follow the beat, much less a woman!" Sliding off the stool, the young man glides towards the floor on long, sure legs. His eyes close, waiting a moment as he finds a place nearby, yet not in the clump. He needs space to work. The next round of the melody launches him into action, body airborne and splayed on the bass notes, spinning along the ground in the drum solos, hopping occasionally, but mixing it up.
Maya is oblivious, her eyes closed as she jumps around to the music, enjoying herself immensely. The young man finally gives up, seeking prey more likely to notice him at the very least and Maya is left jumping around in peace. A few of the lyrics heard, and repeated loudly, along with many of the others, a sheep perhaps. But the danger of jumping around with your eyes shut, and that is the others around you. Poor Sebastien, being closest, and she jumps, landing with both feet, unfortunately in the same space Sebastien is trying to occupy.
Who is, unfortunately, half-crouched and landing from an inverted position. The young man's crouched at a sharp angle, weight on the balls of his feet, rump thrust out behind him with leather creaking dangerously at his belt, head back with eyes up -- just in time to see something soft and black come tumbling down atop him. Loosing a startled cry, Sebastien's noise is soon muffled as his face buries below her breasts, hands reaching to latch on to something -- anything -- as he rocks backwards to land on his ass.
Her eyes open, the hazel startled and wide as she lands on top of him, a surprised shriek piercing past the DJ's music. She puts a hand out to break her fall, her palm hitting the dance floor next to Sebastien's head. This prevents suffication for the hapless man beneath her, and her legs land in a tangle with his. For a long moment, she stays in that position, staring down at the man, catching her breath. "God, I'm so sorry..." The mumbled words are spoken breathlessly, her bunches dangling down either side of her head.
Sebastien blinks. It's a ... dark angel above him? Don't those usually come with horns? His mouth opens to say something, though it's a long moment before he manages a "Salut!" His legs turn a little, giving the vague impression of trying to stand without any real progress being made, as his wide eyes just peer up to soak in another moment. "So you ah, you are new to this dancing thing, non?" he wonders. Poor Sebastien. He'd just lie there all day, until trampled or thrown out by a bouncer.
Maya doesn't seem to be moving from on the man, returning the look, and his comment gets a vigorous shake of her head, the bunches flying. "No, I dance a lot..." She replies, her voice still breathless. There is a long moment of silence and then something seems to penetrate her head and she scrambles to her feet, arms and legs all over the place as she does so. "I'm so sorry!" She repeats, offering him a hand, and a broad grin. "I'll buy you a drink to make up for barging you." The way she speaks, this may not be an infrequent problem.
Sebastien's face begins to creep pink, as a touch of red rises from his neck as that position stays. He swallows and blinks, grinning up, a twinkle entering his eyes. If she doesn't escape soon, it will be more than a thought poking her in casual reminder! The young man laughs as he hears she dances a lot, and accepts that hand to pull himself up. "Oh?" he wonders, bouncing on the balls of his feet again as he regains his stance. Rolling his head on broad shoulders to a 'snap-pop!' that can be heard over the throbbing music, he wonders, "And what is it you call that move, then?" He flashes Maya a daring look, and jogs a couple steps to avoid another bouncing girl -- not nearly so pretty! -- before turning to eye the darkling behind him.
Maya isn't so oblivious to the effect of having her lie on him as he would hope, and the broad grin widens. "Bouncing, jumping, having fun." She informs him, before stepping closer, "It is a natural reaction to proximity of someone you find attractive. Don't worry." The grin matches the dancing eyes and she steps past him, heading towards the bar. "Coming?" She tosses the word over her shoulder, as she turns, facing him, walking backwards. "What do you drink?"
Sebastien matches that closely-spoken note with a rueful look, and lets is eyes slip down the woman's curves in what might otherwise be a terribly forward display. Coming? "One can hope," he replies softly, bounding after those bobbing curls. "Liquor!" he replies happily. "Whatever you have." His tongue touches his lips, hands grabbing for a stool ahead of him to leap-frog on to it, and spins to lean back on the bar. Knees just wider than shoulder width, with the gaping leather on either side of his thighs creaking for the gesture. The rough woven silvery links of his shirt fall flat against his chest, and he wonders, "So are you the sort of girl my mother warned me about?"
Maya leans on the bar, resting her elbows on it as she gets staff attention by wiggling her fingers at them. "Liquor, and a purple peril please." She grins at the bar tender, before she turns towards Sebastien, just as he jumps onto the stool. "Careful. You might crush something." The warning is given with the broad grin, and she returns the look he gave her, turning the corners of her mouth down at the end of it, a gesture perhaps spoilt by the grin that returns then. "Depends. Did your mother worry much about pathologists and forensic doctors?" The two drinks are placed in front of her, one amber glass, and one bright purple with a straw. She pays, and pushes his across to him.
"Protective already?" Sebastien wonders, and laughs at the next question. "Mais oui, bien sur," he replies, not skipping a beat. "She said they were aimable enough, but you had to be dead to meet one!" He narrows his eyes at the unnamed liquor before him, peering at the amber glass. "Formaldehyde?" he wonders, raising that glass in somber salute. "To gravity then, the force that brings things together." He winks at the woman and takes a daring gulp, trying to keep a straight face afterwards. Whatever the tender put in there, it must be a reminder to Sebastien that he's not as suave as he thinks he is!
It is pure, beautiful scotch, and a good one at that. "I just wouldn't want to see you at the hospital with swollen balls." She replies, giving him a sweet smile. His comment about his mother makes her laugh, and she replies, quickly, softly, "Mais vous ne sont pas morts..." That said, she wraps her lips around her straw, taking a large slurp, sliding herself onto a bar stool and settling in comfort to watch the next act, an unfortunately unfunny comedian.
"Je ne suis pas?" Sebastien wonders, dipping a finger into that scotch and raising it to his mouth to taste the drop of it from his finger. A touch of a smile graces his broken features before he deadpans, "Je pensais que l'on doit etre mort pour voir les anges du ciel." That small smile breaks wide into a grin as the cheese is delivered, eyes bright. "You investigate your subjects in some detail, non?" he wonders lightly. Maya's grin doesn't fade at all, and the amusement deepens before she puts her drink down on the bar. Lapsing back into her native American, she leans forward, her tone rapidly. "Of course. How else can I get information from the body without a thorough examination, ..." His comment about the angels of heaven is ignored, disregarded in the desire to explain her passion. "Taking apart each piece of the body to see why it broke..." She trails off, and reaches abruptly for her drink.
Sebastien gives Maya a mock look of horror, eyes wide with mouth a little 'o' before laughing quietly. "That latter part sounds like less fun," he notes pointedly, and reaches for his glass to clink against hers. It's mid afternoon, with an unfunny comedian on stage and a clearing dance floor. The two are at the bar, both sweat-dappled from the dance, and Sebastien's got his schmooze on. Oily or lighthearted is open to interpretation. "You must be new at the Knight's Hospital. I have not yet seen you there," Sebastien notes. "Granted, you and I would be in different places. I just do these small suturings, deliver medication as prescribed, things like this.
For the second time in as many weeks, Alistair shows up in the Alibi for ... something or other. He glances about as he makes his way towards the bar slowly, possibly looking for someone. "Hello" he offers quietly enough once reaching the bar and recognizing two people there.
The black haired girl takes a slurp of her drink, sucking it through the straw, her hazel eyes wide. "I started this week, I arrived here this week, we came to study the rifts." She hesitates, before describing her role a little more. "I tend to stick to doing the blood work, or the dead people." Alistair's arrival is met with a broad grin and she puts the drink down, turning to him. She moves forward, aiming a large hug to the man. "Hello again!"
Sebastien ahs peers at the ark-haired vixen, wondering, "And just how does this blood work correlate with studying the rifts?" He winks at the woman, before turning aside to greet Alistair with a "Bonjour! I see you have been working very, very hard to maintain your 'lucky' title, non?" He glances aside at Maya, and then gives Alistair a knowing, amused look.
"Bon-w!" Alistair is hugged unexpectedly, patting the woman's back as he hugs back, looking from one person to the other. "Oh ... do you want a hug too?" he asks Sebastien innocently, though he's already blushing from Maya's sudden attack! "How are you?" he asks the both of them, brows hiking up a touch.
The hug is enthused, but she does release the man, turning back to her drink. "Is he lucky?" She asks the two men, glancing between the two. "It doesn't. I do the blood work and the rest, and I study... well, anything... everything!" She nods firmly, taking a slurp of the drink. A glance towards Sebastien, "I think he should hug you." The comment is spoken with a broad grin.
"Of course!" Sebastien demands, dropping from his bar stool and whipping arms out to the sides, careful to not spill drinks and little else. He stares at Alistair, a bemused look on his face. "Come to pappa!" the francophone declares, giving his hips a little wiggle as he does. The 'lucky' comment goes unexplained just yet.
Alistair tilts his head a little for a moment, and apparently, not being beyond such humour, he goes to hug Sebastien, "Awww, le papa!" he says, embracing the other man for a few moments. "Do you feel better now, Sir?" he asks, leaning back a touch to look at Sebastien, and then to Maya as well.
A gurgle of laughter greets their embrace and Maya puts her drink down, finished. "You two, you are very amusing." She assures them, glancing between the pair. "I have to go, I must finish my bloods." The statement might be worrying to those who do not understand. "I shall leave you two...ah... friends alone." The grin again and she turns, heading towards the door with a bounce in her step.
Sebastien's able grip envelops Alistair in a warm hug, and as he peers over the man's shoulder at Maya, Sebastien winks and drops a hand to slap Alistair once on the ass. Ducking away then with a broad grin, the young man eyes the retreating Maya with appreciation. "I think, despite my efforts, you still got the better deal," he declares.
"Wah!" Alistair starts a little, "Monsieur, that is not the behavior of a gentleman!" he puts on a little pretense, and looks over to MAya when she leaves as well. Looking back to Sebastien, he asks, "Is Miss Maya your girlfriend then?" he asks, brows hiking up once more - he does that a lot, doesn't he?
"Maya," Sebastien echoes. "Is that her name? No, she is not. Mine seems to relish courtship, the dance, the wild rendezvous here and there, and then moves in..." Sebastien lets that trail off, shaking his head sadly. "Moves in for a night, only to disappear and not be seen again. The first time she did this, she was gone for nearly a year. Now she has done it again, for a couple of months. I do not know what to make of it."
"Ah!" Alistair nods his head a little, "But, Cali works a lot too" he smiles faintly, "I have not seen her for a little while, and I miss her. Maybe I should go bother her in the shop, but then she tends to be in a trance when working, and I don't want to interrupt her" he smiles sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders. "So I decided to teach at the hospital now."
Sebastien reaches to snag his drink from the bar, swirling it about before him while eyeing Alistair levelly. "There are ways of breaking such trances," he utters, letting his grin broaden. "How is it you get in and out of the hospital for this? The dregs are not so hospitable, these days."
"Of course, but, then - she would not be happy with me" Alistair explains, and hmms softly, "Oh - I walk. I guess people don't bother me too much most of the time, at least for now. I ran into this werd slow-walking CS-clad person once, though" he makes a face, "No manners whatsoever."
Sebastien narrows his eyes at that, and wonders softly, "Is it that the armor was covered in spikes?" The young man sits straighter there, squaring up his shoulders and leaning forward as if that were an important point.
Alistair mmhmms and nods his head. "Yes, that one" he replies, "She was very impolite and intimidating. I think if you want people to treat you nice you have to treat'em nice, too" he opines, shrugging his shoulders a little.
"That," Sebastien notes with a lazy smile, "was likely to be Katsumi. She gets this way when she hunts. If you cast spells or have mind powers of some kind, you are lucky to think her only rude! After all, this makes you just meat to her hungry eyes." The young man nods meaningfully, and drains the last of his drink to drop the glass on the counter before fishing out a tip to put beside it. "If you see her again, on the prowl, tell her that her mate grows impatient." The young man's smile disappears at that, an eyebrow raising in response as he begins to slip away.
"Ah ... oh, well ...have a good night" Alistair smiles, tilting his head a touch. "I'll um, let her know next time I meet her" though the name has indeed drawn a bit of response from him, as if he recognized it. He waves a hand at Sebastien.
