Mar 26 19:46:08 106 PA
From Chronicles
The current game time is: Sat Mar 26 19:46:08 106 PA.
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.
With a few days past after the end of things and the continuing absence of the fog, the security precautions at the Alibi have since been relaxed. It bit into funds to keep the extra help on for so long, but balanced the happiness lost at the longer hours. But now, things are more relaxed around here, though the security still keep the leash firm in hand when it comes to the door and who comes through it.
Desmond himself shows a more relaxed air today, the long use of his armor at all hours ended, he sitting at a table quietly as he observes the night's live act. A singer who shows some promise, even if she's not yet star diva material. He has, of course, his glass of water close to hand and is quietly relaxed as he listens, ears perked forward.
Aimee's gaiety is more genuine now, her smile brighter as she gives final directions to the bar staff, before she turns her steps towards her favourite place, at Desmond's side. "Mon chat." She murmurs the soft words as she approaches him, reaching out to touch him lightly on the shoulder as she settles herself beside him. "What do you think? Perhaps a little work..."
An ear flicks towards Aimee before he reaches over to lightly catch the edge of the chair to his right with the tips of his claws. Pulling it beside himself for her as he continues to consider the singer quietly. "Perhaps. You could offer to show her some things," he rumbles thoughtfully. "You are good teacher." Desmond will look towards her as she sits, ears returning to tracking the singer. His hand remaining low to curl behind her back as she sits. "Her voice is pleasing," he adds, a simple final assessment.
She settles in the chair, leaning into him, watching the girl for a short while. "She is worth perhaps teaching. And then I wouldn't have to sing." A glitter of amusement in her green eyes, "I could perhaps be the special treat. Or the old one, tossed away, non?" The words are spoken light heartedly, her smile bright enough for it to be true. "Perhaps a regular slot." She snuggles into him, feline in her own movements as she tucks her feet beneath her. "Do you think Kesslan will be home soon?"
Desmond goes back to listening for that time, though the second possibility brings him to look towards her again, a touch firm. "Any who would toss you aside would do so foolishly," he states, as if it were set to stone. "Nor do I think you could remove yourself too far from this stage,' he adds, tone softer. As she settles into him, he provides her a perfectly sized nook to settle into and his hand shifts, splaying strong fingers along the curve of her hip comfortably. His attention lingers on her, letting an ear remain targeted on the singing. "I know not," he rumbles thoughtfully on the subject of Kesslan. "It would be favorable, for I doubt that his wanderings and needs bring him great joy. Fulfillment, perhaps, but that is a thing separate."
Aimee tilts her head back to look up at him, her eyes warm, her mouth curved into a smile. "I think, mon chat, noone but you will get a chance to try it." She moves her hand to lightly rest on his thigh, her shoulder snuggles into his side. "I miss him but I think, perhaps, he is moving on, and I hope it makes him happy." She hesitates, turning her attention back to the stage, but it is only half there.
"I think you are not quite right.. he is not moving on. But he is doing what he must. Even if it takes him far away from us, he will not forget and neither shall we." Desmond's conclusion on the topic, his hand gripping softly, arm squeezing her against his side warmly. Another show of how he's come to control his strength to a greater and greater degree. "And we will always have a place for him," he adds as he looks towards the stage again. "No matter how long it might take for him to find his way back to us."
"Oui..." Her reply is soft, content to be squeezed to his side, snuggling. "I miss him, and I thought, me, that he would be there when we got married." She glances up at him, her forehead wrinkling slightly, "It is an odd thought, how I think I would miss him being there." She shrugs, the gaelic dismissal she so often uses. "Perhaps it is a thing to consider too."
"There is time yet," Desmond rumbles deeply, his eyes turning towards her. "Is it not a tradition for it to be in the spring time?" His eyes turned towards her. "With things quieted some, perhaps this spring is the time. Though to me we are already joined, I would pridefully say such to all who would bear witness to it."
"Oui, there is much time." Aimee comments softly, returning his gaze, the corners of her eyes creasing slightly. "I am glad, me, the fog is gone. Perhaps this spring, perhaps next. Perhaps when we feel, on a day." She shrugs lightly, squeezing his leg where her hand rests. "This place, mon chat. It is more than I dreamt of."
"And I am glad to have helped you grasp it. And I will defend it as I would you, My Aimee," he tells her, Keeping his focus on her, his other hand lifting to lightly draw his fingers laong her cheek. "As I have, from the day we first met." His mind casually stretching back that way, without losing focus on the now. "I was like a child then, compared to now.. it is strange how far we have come."
She turns her mouth to his touch, her gaze on his, as if the others in the club were not there, capturing his fingers in her teeth, a smile in her eyes, before she releases it. "It is ours, mon chat." She notes, correcting him softly, "It is odd. I think, me, I would not hesitate now, not between you and another, not between you and many others."
Desmond manages to not let those teeth distract him too much so, though there is a flicker in his eyes. "Ours, yes, but I do all of this for you," he rumbles. "Were it not for you, I would not be here.. perhaps I would still be in Moe's. Perhaps not." A curious thought that seems to strike a quiet resonance with him and prompt one of those thoughtful pauses. But not for too long. "I do not begrudge you our time apart. It was.. a moment for we two to grow. To come to know what our truths were. We know not and we know that our paths lie together."
"Me, I begrudge him the time." Aimee is clear on that, a flicker of a frown on her face, but the teasing takes it away, and her fingers tighten on his thigh. "I wonder where I would be." A flicker of a shadow crosses her face, thinking of the choices she had then. "Me, I think this way, it is better." She nods firmly, glancing towards the stage.
"Better for us both," Desmond nods, content to leave it at that. He lifts his eyes towards the stage. "I do not like to think to the future. To the promise and the pleasures that await us. To building this place.. perhaps some day to make it bigger.. better." Not that he seems to have a focus for those qualities.
"Oui." Her voice is soft before she rises to her feet, turning her attention to the stage. "I think, me, I will offer that girl a job for a bit." She presses a kiss against his lips, smiling as she straightens. "And I think, me, we will have a nice dinner, and perhaps let the staff close up."
His hand follows as she rises, thus he can casually give her a familiar squeeze when she leans in to kiss him, with just a hint of claw. His head lifted to receive it and return for those few moments. "Perhaps sooner rather than later," he rumbles deeply after, his eyes lingering intently on her own. Not so much a flicker now, that look. But he will release her to let her do as she must. For now. "I will be here, My Aimee. Waiting for you." A simple promise given.
Green eyes give him a look, a heated suggestion that they might not make it home if he does that, her mouth curving into a wide smile, leaning in to murmur in his ear. "Mon chat, there was a time when you would have hidden your claws, remember?" The reminder of the heated first days together is given as she straightens, turning to walk across the club, hips swaying deliberately, the look she gives over her shoulder inviting.
"You are the one who has lured me to use them more," Desmond counters simply, unrepentant, but not pressing that advantage again. He does, of course, let his eyes follow her as she goes. More interesting than the singing. Yes. But once she's slid away, he returns to watching the end of the singer's set quietly.
