May 02 18:12:28 107 PA - Trapping Bunnies

From Chronicles

Kingsdale - The Alibi

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.

It's mid-evening and the Alibi is just starting to draw a crowd. Bedraggled patrons have slunk in to avoid the storm outside and the DJs are spinning an upbeat set. The dance floor, although damp, is rapidly becoming packed with sweaty, gyrating bodies.

Just getting started is what Bridget is doing, too. Dashing in under a small umbrella, she shakes it out before letting the people checking for weapons take it. It could be deadly... and even if it's not, she doesn't really want to carry it around. She lets them check her, also, but it's fairly obvious that she isn't carrying. Then there is the click of heels as she walks towards the bar.

Mikjel is just stepping off of the dance floor, his breath heavy and his step slowed somewhat. When he reaches the bar, he signals with two fingers. A moment later, two plastic cups are placed next to him, one filled with ice, the other with a mix of ice and alcohol. The glass of ice is held to his brow for a moment before he takes a sip of icy water, finally setting it down and fishing around in his pockets.

Bridget steps and slips up to the bar, taking a stool and pulling her legs in to tuck them against the stool. She smiles and waves down one of the bartenders, just to give a vague wave of her hand for her order. Seems she isn't too picky, at least for the first drink after a long day. While she waits, her eyes wander down the bar and to the bodies already dancing.

Giving the woman beside him a smile, Mikjel pulls a paper and a pinch of tobacco out of his pocket, beginning to roll a cigarette on the bar. "Don't reckon as I've seen you around here afores." He offers her his hand, saying, "Mikjel." Jerking his head toward the packed dance floor, he asks, "You come here to dance?"

Bridget's eyes back up a bit, to the man smiling nearby, and she returns it. "Hi. I've been here a few times, but it's been awhile. Usually too much work or not enough." She might shake his hand, but her drink shows up; a colorful concoction of whatever they happened to pick out. Her hand takes it, instead. "Bridget, and of course I'm here to dance, and drink. That's the whole point, isn't it?"

Mikjel leans back against the bar, lighting his cigarette and inhaling with a long and happy sigh. He retrieves his drink with his other hand, taking a sip of it. "I reckon that's two of the reasons folk duck in here, yeah. Could just be trying to dodge the rain, could be here to enjoy the music without dancing, too." He shrugs and takes another sip of his drink and a puff off his cigarette.

"You've got a point," Bridget inserts her glass into her growing smile to take a sip of the drink, "or two of them. When it isn't cold, it's raining. Sometimes both. A litle more sunshine would be nice, wouldn't it?"

Mikjel gestures with his glass, saying, "We're on a plateau, with mountains on three sides and a floodplain to the fourth. Weather gets trapped here for days." He takes another puff off of his cigarette, blowing the smoke up at the ceiling before saying, "This winter, the cold came in and just wouldn't leave." Shaking his head, he says, "I reckoned, I'd come south for the winter, the weather would be better. Instead, I end up hiding inside for four months, hoping that someday I'd be warm again."

Bridget shrugs her bared shoulders. "Could be worse. You could be stuck outside in it for four months. As bad as it can get cooped up, it's better than wet and frozen." Her glass waves towards the door. "There's plenty of people out there that wish they were in here."

Mikjel gives her a nod. "Were outside, for more of the winter than I'd have liked to be." His expression shifts to a smile, then, and he says, "Spent more than a bit of it here, though. Learned to dance but good, as it seemed like a halfway-decent way to keep my fool self warm."

Bridget has to lower her glass as she laughs with that. "That is one way, I guess. I've been lucky enough to keep a roof over my head and the heat on, but it was close, sometimes. If that fails, I guess I can always come here to warm up."

With a smile, Mikjel says, "Aimee, she's powerful nice, and don't let nobody tell you otherwise." He gives Bridget a grin, before saying, "And I've had worse winters. Spent one up north with snowdrifts above my head. We ended up digging into them for some shelter from the cold. Weren't pretty at all. Might even call it frigid."

"Aimee?" Bridget wasn't expecting a name out of nowhere, and perks a barely-there brow. Then she shivers at the rest of his explanation and shakes her head. "No thank you. I'd find something warmer than snow to crawl into, or stay away from that much of it. Even sitting in armor for a week is better than that."

Mikjel gestures with his cigarette, expansively, saying, "Aimee owns the Alibi. Nice woman, sings on stage some nights." Taking another puff before extinguishing it on the bar, he says, "And it weren't like neither me nor my friend had much of a choice in the matter. We were stuck out in the middle of nowhere on a trapline when the blizzard hit. And after a while, even the heaters in our armour were running out of juice."

Bridget lifts her glass for another swallow and rolls her shoulders again. "Well, at least you stayed warm, and don't have to worry about it, now, right?" After setting the glass on the bartop, she adds, "Oh, and it made you a wonderful dancer, too." She grins with that last.

Mikjel gives her a grin, saying, "Both of us managed to keep all our fingers and toes, too." Stepping away from the bar, he holds out his hand, asking, "Wanna put that last to the test, then? Think I've relaxed enough for another turn out on the dance floor."

"That's good to hear..." Her words trail off flat for a moment, then Bridget smiles again at his offer. "Sure. That's reason number... 3? 4, right?" She takes his hand this time and swings her legs out to stand up, and up a little more.

Mikjel leads her out onto the dance floor, stopping about halfway and turning to face her. He stands about a head shorter than her, but doesn't hesitate as his feet find the rhythm and he begins to move easily. "I reckon that dancing's about reason number two why folk are out here tonight. Reason three would be to get out of the weather and into the closest warm place."

Bridget follows his lead and steps out after him, and laughs lightly when he corrects her count. "I think it's the number one reason, right now." She winks down at him and begins to move, herself, when she picks up the beat. There's more sway and swing than kicking up her feet, but she can move well enough.

Catching her other hand in his, Mikjel continues to dance. His feet are sure and as they move together, he leads her in a slow circle of the dance floor. Catching her eyes and giving her a wink, he says, "Oh, so having a drink's been demoted down to a number two reason now?"

"Well," Bridget grins widely enough to flash teeth, "since I already had one... yeah. I'd spill it, if I even had a hand free." It's not a complaint, though, as they circle around. "Just hope I can keep up with you, since I haven't been outside in any blizzards."

Mikjel waits until they've reached a clear part of the dance floor and then steps back, twirling gracefully under their joined hands. Flashing her a smile and looking up into her eyes, he raises his hands above her head, crossing his arms and saying, "Your turn."

Her grin becomes a laugh, and Bridget steps forward and twirls under their hands. She does try not to hunch to obviously, but there is some reflex to it, even if she really didn't need to. When she stands up straight again, she's still smiling. "So, just how long were you and your friend out there dancing in the snow to get so good?"

As she completes her twirl, Mikjel steps close, laughing a little. "Oh no. Jean-Jacques and I, we weren't dancing out there in the northern blizzards." He catches her around the waist and dips with a shimmy and wiggle before rising again. "Dancing were something that I did to keep warm this winter, not some long-ago one."

Bridget didn't really think that he did, but it was an amusing thought. She bends and sways, leaning away to arch her back against his arm. There is one double-step as she shimmies a little too much, but she recovers with a short laugh. One to blame that one on the heels. "Jean-Jacques missed out on some good dancing. Too bad for him. You do anything else, now? When you're not dancing or hiding from the rain?"

Mikjel shrugs, twirling to face away from her, his hands resting on her hips as he sways in front of her. "I do work here and there." One hand leaves her hip to gesture fluidly in the air with a quick tap of feet on the floor. "Now that it's warming up, I reckon I'll head out and run a trapline. Maybe head up into the woods and see if I can't find myself something worth salvaging."

"Hunt and salvage seems as popular as anything else, here." Bridget doesn't seem to mind the hands on her hips any more than the rest of the dancing. "What do you trap? I hope it's worth it to wander out there. I try to stay close, if I can." She leans forward into his back and match his swaying.

Mikjel leans back, looking up at her. "Bunnies, mostly. Had my eyes set on a nice plump aix sponsa last year, but she managed to get away from me." He steps forward, twirling on the ball of his foot before catching her around the waist again, looking up into her eyes. "Ain't exactly safe out there, but that's half the reason to bring a rifle out onto the trapline."

Bridget grins down at him after he spins and catches her, or she him. "It's not the bunnies you need to watch out for, but everything else. Something might trap you, instead." She adds a shrug to the sways and steps. "One reason I like the city just fine."

Swaying briefly, Mikjel executes a complicated little step that causes him to twirl all the way around her before stopping in front of her again. With a grin and a shrug, he says, "Don't I know it. If it ain't dinosaurs, it's demons. And if it ain't demons, might be a Coalition patrol from over Whykin way. Got good at hiding, though, and what can't see me ain't gonna eat me."

Bridget is caught a little by surprise when she's ..orbited? and lets out a laugh. "I'm sure you can dance your way away from those, too. Maybe you should trap demons, or dinosaurs, instead? Save the bunnies, since they're soft and fluffy, and all."

Looking up into her eyes, Mikjel gives her a smile, which quickly becomes a laugh so complete as to make him pause in his dancing. He catches his rhythm a moment later, just in time for the song to end. "I reckon as I could give that a try, yeah, but then I ain't got a cage big enough to hold a dino, and I don't know as I'd be able to find a buyer even if I did." Catching her hand in his, he gives it a little squeeze and begins to move off the dance floor. "Least with bunnies, there's a market already in place."

"Be hard to clean up after, too." Bridget adds a giggle as they step off the floor. "I guess bunnies are better. Well, after drinking, dancing, and staying out of the rain."

Mikjel leads the way back to the bar, recovering his drink and raising it to her. "Thanks for the dance. Was fun." He drains the glass, saying, "And I oughta be off. Real good to meet you, Bridget."

Bridget takes up her glass and wiggles it to stir and salute him back. "Thank you, too. Don't get eaten by any demon bunnies while you're out there." She winks over her glass in farewell.

Mikjel raises his hand and waves before stepping through security and out into the night.