Nov 12 00:54:18 106 PA - Savoring a Songbird

From Chronicles

Kingsdale - The Alibi

Last set of the night before the music turns to the DJ, and Aimee can rest her voice, if not her feet. It is a slow one, about the sun setting, molasses in the sky, and her voice is husky. She wanders a little, leaving the stage to roam and tease the audience, pausing here and there. Her green eyes move across the crowd, her expression warm. "So sweet and true... always wanting more..."

That's not a bad tune to drink to, and Brady can't say the voice hurts matters at all, either. With the iron collection done at the door, its time to belly himself up to the bar for that drink. A stool rung serves as a replacement bootrail, and the crooning colors his request to a bouran.

Aimee repeats the chorus a few times, softly, aiming it at various members of the audience as she moves towards the bar, headset carrying her voice throughout the club. "If you please...." She trails fingers lightly across the shoulders of one man, moving along until she reaches Brady. "If you pleaaase...." She draws the last line out before the music cuts out and she thanks the clubbers in a soft, husky purr. Then she switches the mic off, receiving a glass of ice water from the staff with a smile.

Brady turns at the singer's approach, and gives her grinning once-over from curls to heels and back. Twice, just in case he missed anything the first time. "Don't mind if I do." He awaits his glass to show up, and her to wet her own whistle before he notes, "Ain't seen you here, before, but looks like the owner made a smart choice."

Aimee takes a sip of her water, turning to meet the man's gaze and returning one of her own. The green eyes are assessing, coolly, as if he might not be entirely to her liking.

Aimee takes a sip of her water, turning to meet the man's gaze and returning one of her own. The green eyes are assessing, coolly, as if he might not be entirely to her liking. "We certainly did." She replies softly, the corners of her mouth curving into an amused smile. "Me, I am Aimee. I am one of the owners." She offers him her hand, oddly formal, green eyes watching him, catlike.

"Well," Brady blinks and quickly removes any bootleather from his lips, "guess that makes sense. Got a talented tongue, there, Aimee." The offered hand gets taken in a brief shake before he goes for the kissing knuckles. "Name's Brady. Blindin' Billy Brady. You got a right fine place here."

"Oui, I know." The smile widens a little at the knuckle kissing but she accepts it with a grace direct from her french genetics. "We have worked hard, mon chat et mon minet and I, to make it so." A glance around, and obvious pride shines in her eyes for a moment before she returns to studying him thoughtfully. "And you, you are not a regular, I think. Me, I know all the regulars here."

Brady looses a chuckle and shakes his head. "Not yet, but I'm working on it. It's nice not worrying if someone added a little extra to the whiskey," his head then tips towards teh door check, "but still a chore handing over my iron."

"We are proud of our whiskey....and all the others, oui." She sips her water, her cheeks still flushed from the performance. "If we let people bring their arms in here, do you think it would be so relaxed, and safe, non? The gangs would come in here, and soon, I would have blood on my decor..." She shrugs lightly, glancing at the decor, apparently caring more that it would be sullied.

"Guess holding the biggest ones does keep things peaceable." Brady concedes the point with a nod. "Always gonna find rowdy folks, and the booze don't always calm them down. How'd you come to get this place, anyhow? I reckon a fine songbird like you wouldn't take too long to store up and buy it out."

"Mon chat and Mon minet, they bought it for me. Me, I have not any money but they are very generous to me." Aimee sips her water, raising an eyebrow at the fine songbird comment. "In my head, perhaps, a little, I think it will go away but..." She shrugs, an elegant movement as she looks around the club, her mouth curving into a feline smile of satisfaction.

Brady looses a chuckle. "Ah... Got yourself a nice arrangement going, I got it. Sounds like you got most everything worked out fine."

"Oui, Mon chat and I, we will marry at some point." She replies absently, a tiny pucker appearing between her eyes as she watches a man hitting a little too hard on a woman on the dance floor but it vanishes as the woman handles it herself. "And you? What do you do? It is a strange name, non?"

"Good luck to you, then." Brady then answers one question somewhat vaguely, with a rolls of his shoulder. "I do a little bit of everything, but it's mostly about the hardware. Sell, trade, fix, use... I do it all." Her last query he's not so sure he follows. "What's a strange name?"

"You sell weapons, oui?" She gives him a steady thoughtful look, a peek of something harder behind the pretty singer. "Yours is a strange name. Is it a nickname, non?" She leans against the bar, resting her glass against her throat, her eyes half closing for a moment.

Brady dips his head in a nod. "Buy, sell, find... Oh, you mean the 'Blindin' part? That was earned. Blinding fast on the draw. That, and a few fellers thought they could look over my stuff, and take what they wanted. They were wrong, and I made sure they couldn't be looking at nothing else that weren't theirs, after.'

The corner of Aimee's mouth twitches slightly at the explaination and the green eyes return to studying him for a moment. "It is not a comment, perhaps, on other speeds?" The woman's expression is amused, her eyes creasing at the corners, the smile deepening the dimples at the corners of her mouth. "Perhaps I should ask my staff if you are seen in here with a girl more than once..."

"This city draws the orneriest women..." A wry smirk forms at the insinuation, but remains bemused. "Nope. Ain't nothing quick about that. You're welcome to test yourself, of course." Now he winks. "Don't need to ask them. I've been here a couple times, with a couple different girls. They keep coming back, too, so I ain't doing nothing wrong."

"I think, me, that you would not survive a night with me, petite coq..." Aimee's smile widens, amusement shining in her green eyes. "I think I will watch for you and your girls, and see what I think." A member of the bar staff murmurs something into her ear and she turns, a flicker of a frown showing behind the professional smile.

As if that threat is all that much of a deterrent, even if it were true. "Damned nice way to go out, though, ain't it?" Brady's smirk gains a large dollop of wry to become a grin. "Watch all you like. When you think you're ready to ante up for that showdown, just let me know." His demeaner is plenty cocky, whether or not there is any physical lack.

"To be torn apart by mon chat? Non, not so much." She tosses the comment over her shoulder with an amused smile, before Aimee replies softly to the bar staff and they leave, allowing her to return her attention to the man in front of her. "Mon Coq, I live with mon chat, and perhaps, he does not share so well." She shrugs lightly again, turning to the bar to summon a less wholesome drink of wine. "And perhaps my friend here would like whiskey. On the house."

Well, there is that detail, and it's not nearly as pleasant as the demise he had envisioned. His smirk returns. "I can figure how he might get a spot jealous, but that comes with the deal, I reckon." He gives her another appreciative and poignant once-over before nodding to the tender. "A whiskey'd be great."

The whiskey appears from a bottle not shown over the counter, poured neat. Aimee pushes it towards him. "He knows he has nothing to worry about." Aimee shrugs lightly, settling herself onto a stool and sipping her wine. "You do not have a steady girl then? You are a butterfly, oui?"

Brady trades his mostly-empty for the glass of the apparent 'good stuff,' and rolls his shoulders. "Life ain't long enough to be passing up good things, or getting roped by the first one you find, neither. Maybe it'll happen, maybe it won't. Ain't worried about it." A savoring sip is taken of the liquor and he tips his head to her and the barman. "Not bad. Not bad at all."

Aimee is amused, the corner of her mouth quirking as she listens to the man. "Non, but it is perhaps not about passing the main course because you fancy too many desserts, non?" She sips her wine, savouring it for a moment before she speaks. "Some girls, they are perhaps only a starter, or a little aperitif, oui? Others, they are the entree, and you cannot have entree and aperitif at the same time."

"Now you're making me hungry, Songbird." Out comes the appelation as Brady mulls over her words, and the fine whiskey. Another swallow aids with the thinking, of course. "Guess I'm just still in the chow line, filling my plate with a helping of everything. Don't know if you really like it until you try a few bites, right?"

"I hope none of your ...chow gives you an upset stomach, mon coq." She is laughing at him, her green eyes amused by the man's consumption of the whiskey. "Perhaps I should give you a cheaper blend. You should savour it. It is not something to swig, mon coq, you taste it, savour it before swallowing." Her voice, husky and low, makes it sound as if it is not drinking whiskey she is speaking about.

Brady lowers his glance and lifts the glass so they meet. "I'm taking my time. Otherwise, it'd be gone already. Can't take too long smelling the flowers, or you'll end up under them before you're done. How about you? Everythin slow and easy for you?"

"For me? Non, perhaps not." She shrugs, dismissing her story, her smile losing the amused edge for a flicker of a moment before it returns. Aimee lowers her gaze, as she sips her wine, her eyelashes hiding the expression of her eyes. "Me, I think everyone has a story, but some, they are adventure and others perhaps not so. Oui?"

"Guess it weren't always." Brady doesn't ask again, but the flicker in grin and gaze isn't missed. "There ain't no such thing as the simple life around here. Just breathing's an adventure, and easiest time people'll have is being worm chow. Not something I'm looking to do anytime soon, and I'll be damned if I'll be sitting around for it."

Aimee lifts her gaze to him once more, and the green eyes are hard, her smile less about humour than about a thought. "I think, perhaps, those that are bottom of the pile either stay there, or eat their way to the top of the food pile, non?" She takes a sip of her wine, closing her eyes slightly, her face resembling nothing as much as a satisfied cat for a moment. "And then, perhaps, they should make sure they stay there."

Brady's grin unfurls across his face into a knowing smile, and his drink to be savored is lifted in salute to her. "I think you've got things figured just about right. Glad to hear it, too. Heard alot of folks floting by on big notions, and it's going to be a hard fall when they get popped. I reckon you've been around a whirl or two."

"If you wish for big things, you have to take them." Aimee's simple statement is spoke in hard tones, and she turns to the bar staff, silently swapping her wine for whiskey, and his is refilled as she turns back to him. "A whirl or two? Mon coq, I perhaps have a little experience but oui, I am lucky." She smiles again then, the professional smile of the front of house club owner. "And you?"

"Exactly." His nod and tone imply that single word covers a broad spectrum. Brady then rolls his shoulders. "Guess you could say I'm lucky, but it's alot more work than that. I watched alot of those folks on the bottom get crushed, and some step over enough stiffs to get a little higher. Getting flattened didn't look too comfortable, so I started climbing, and been doing it ever since."

Aimee picks up the whiskey glass, cupping it gently in her hands, listening to him. Her gaze rests on his face, her expression giving away little of her thoughts. "Oui, it is perhaps not comfortable." She comments softly, inhaling the rich scent of the whiskey before taking a sip, taking her time and savouring it.

Brady watches her savored moment, and maybe savors some of that observation, himself. "If it were, folks'd be clawing the other way, I reckon. They say it's lonely at the top, but I say that means you got one less way you need to watch." He tosses back the remainder of his glass, but doesn't immediately swallow it down. A compromise between savor and shot, perhaps.

"Only lonely perhaps if you did not take people with you that you could trust." Aimee's answer is soft, and a flicker of a softer smile touches the corner of her mouth before she finishes her whiskey. "And now, mon coq, I think I should perhaps pay a little attention to my customers." She puts the glass down, blowing him a kiss from her fingertips before she moves smoothly into the crowd, greeting clubbers with a warmth that suggests the club is only open that night for them, yes, that one person...