Nov 19 11:35:20 106 PA - Floorshows at the Alibi
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.
Afternoon at the Alibi, and Happy Hour's already started. Any hour when one can enjoy a good beer and a good view is always happy, and Brady does both. He is leaned back against the bar on one elbow, the other helping to tip glass to lips while he surveys those about the tables or shaking on the dancefloor. This city seems to be flush with either ornery and gorgeous women, often in combination. That suits him just fine, too.
A woman arrives at the door, hesitantly entering, and blushing when the doormen speak to her. Clearly, she is unarmed, a shake of her head indicating this and a conversation takes place, with them both looking at the crowd , seeking someone. Apparently, that person isn't here and she nods, giving him a warm smile, shyly, as thanks before moving towards the bar. The clothes she wears are not casual, clearly date clothes, the dress a silver cheongsam, reaching the floor with embroidered panels in contrasting black up the front. Her red hair is lifted onto the top of her head, piled high with curls, and she has, for once, put on makeup, a flash of red lipstick.
Brady intermittently includes the door in his survey of the scene, just to get a heads up in case trouble or tanatalizing walks in. One of those just seemed to, now, and his baby blues look over the silvered Cali, lingering with her approach. His free hand lifts to bend his brim to her above the best million-credit smile he can muster. "Well, howdy there, Angel. You look right heavenly."
It takes a moment for her to realise he is actually talking to her and then, apparently, angels can blush, and this one definitely does, her cheeks pinkening. "Um, that is real nice of you." She stumbles over the words, glancing towards the door, still seeking her intended date. "I'm sorry, I ain't sure... I don't reckon I know you? I mean, I ain't forgettin' am I?" She offers a smile, softening the words, confusion apparent in her face.
"We ain't been properly introduced," Brady's beer switches hands so he can offer the now-empty one to her, "but I sure don't forget a face like yours. Brady. Billy Brady." She's almost unrecognizable, now, compared to past meets, but he wouldn't forget even if it were the first time he'd seen her.
There is a flash of relief, her thoughts so clearly written on her face that she might as well speak them aloud. "Brady. I'm real sorry. I was lookin' for Ali, meant to be meetin' him here. I ain't... I ain't been here much before." She looks around for a moment, eyes a little wide before speaking to him, confidingly, shyly. "Ain't it loud?" Her gaze returns to his face, the brown eyes wide, startled looking.
Brady rolls his shoulders. "Sometimes, but I guess most folks here like it that way. Works good for dancing and jumping around, but I ain't much for the jumping." His own glass waggles a little and a brow quirks. "Get you a drink?"
"I guess they do." Caliopa's bemusement is obvious and she shakes her head, giving him a shy smile. ""Um reckon I'd have a beer, but I ain't sure it looks real right with..." A slight hand movement indicates her dress, the blush darkening her cheeks once more. "I ain't sure." She finishes, a little lamely, her smile turning rueful.
Breaking out from a line of people, Alistair quickly makes his way towards the bar, having looked around. Upon reaching the bar he aproaches Cali with a smile, reaching for her hand; his eyes stay on hers if and when she looks at him. "How's my beautiful sunshine?" he murmurs, blushing faintly.
"Angel," Brady's smile cranks up a notch to counter her shyness, and his baby blues roam over and back, and makes his approval obvious, "with you and that dress, there ain't nothing that could look wrong." A wink is fired off, and then he half-turns to one of the tenders at the bar, leading with his mostly empty glass. "A reload for me, and one for the lady, here."
Caliopa's blush deepens and there is a moment of obvious confusion at the direct compliment and roaming eyes. "Cali." She murmurs, "Name's Cali." Alistair's arrival is met with almost relief, her sunny smile breaking out and lighting up her face. "Ali. Was beginnin' to figure I'd got the wrong...." She trails off, offering him her face for a kiss, letting him take her hand. "Brady is buyin' me a drink." She explains, glancing between them.
Alistair lifts the hand to his lips to kiss; smiling sheepishly. "I'm sorry, I should take you out more" he murmurs, though where they'll find the time - "You wore that dress on -" he trails off and takes the offer of a kiss instead: Wrapping am arm about her waist he pushes over in an attempt to dip her slightly, though the kiss itself ends up more sweet than anything else for the moment. When done, he blinks. "Oh?" he looks back and forth, brows hiking up a touch, then he smiles again, "How nice."
Brady is nice, indeed, as he tends to acquiring said drink. Why, he even offers Alistair a wink after his suave little bit of affection. "Don't get too riled up, there. You're liable to make folks jealous." Then the beer arrives and he offers one to Cali, quirking a brow again. "I take it you don't get all dressed up alot? That's a damned shame."
Caliopa rises from the kiss giggling, but blushing, the confusion returning. "Wore it for the charity thing." She acknowledges his memory, blushing more, her gaze dropping a little. The effect just sweeps her lashes across her skin, before Brady's question brings her gaze back up to them. "I ain't much for gettin' dressed up. Jus' Ali 'n' me, we thought it'd be nice to get all shiny..." She gives Alistair a sidelong glance, her smile warming as her gaze rests on him,
"Valentine's" Alistair whispers, smiling - looking to Brady for a momement then he shrugs his shoulders a little. "It isn't like we do it all the time" he replies good-natured, and looks back to Cali, smiling wider. He squeezes her hand lightly. "You're the one everyone is looking at" he grins, teasing her only for a moment followed by an apologetic "I don't think they'll let us dance slow here, but if you want in a bit ... "
"Thought you weren't one for dancing?" Alistair is questioned as Brady sips his beer. "Figured I might ask the Angel, myself... since she's all shiny and all." His smile turns back to Cali, and his brow stays quirked.
Caliopa's cheeks flush at the whisper, her gaze on Alistair, returning the squeeze. His comment and teasing brings deepens the blush and she shakes her head. "I ain't sure I can dance like that..." A glance at the dance floor and she gives Alistair a look full of nervousness. Brady's offer deepens confusion, and she looks between them, uncertain.
Alistair blinks his eyes, brows hiking up slowly. It takes a moment, but he replies, "Excuse me; I'm on a date here with Cali. Do go mind your own business" his demeanor just a little bit less than its usual pleasant self.
Mikjel passes by the bouncers, getting patted down as he does. No weapons are stored away. Apparently some people don't bring a weapon as part of their plans for getting wasted. Or, if they do, make sure that the bouncers would have to be thorough in ways that generally either involve a cell and a rubber glove or buying him a drink first. He weaves through the crowd, making his way to the bar and leaning on it, waiting for service.
Brady's other brow pops up as his baby blues slide back to Alistair and his shoulders roll. "Just trying to make a lovely gal feel welcome. Ain't my fault you showed up late. Besides," his lips bend further to smirk and he flicks his hatbrim to tip it back, "who I talk to /is/ my business."
Beside the bar, Caliopa is standing with the two men, her face showing the confusion at Alistair's change in demeanor, and Brady's reply doesn't lessen the tension level. "I ain't sure I can dance in this anyhow..." She speaks softly, trying to defuse them, her hand in Alistair's squeezing his hand gently. Her gaze slides between them, and she bites her lip.
Alistair watches Brady for a moment, but rather than continue the argument he exhales and turns his gaze back to Cali; he smiles at her, "Sorry; let's have some fun then" he motions to one of the seats, "Care to have a seat for now?" he asks, standing ready to pull it out if that is the case.
Mikjel rolls a cigarette on the bar as he waits, finally catching a bartender's attention. After a few moments of negotiation, complete with gestures and looks that tread a line between disdain and incredulity, a transaction takes place. Credits are pushed across the bar and the bartender returns, a few moments later, with a pint glass filled with the cheapest rye in the house. Mikjel takes a sip, nods approvingly, and lights his cigarette, half-listening to the conversation next to him.
"Let me know if you decide to dance, Angel." Brady lifts his beer to Cali, leaving the invitation open while not stopping her. He then takes a long sip, now ignoring Alistair in kind.
Caliopa's gaze moves between the two, her forehead puckering between her eyes. A slight move to her mouth, tightening at the corners before she speaks. "I will. Thank you, Brady. That is real nice 'n' polite of you." She turns then, taking the seat Alistair offers, giving him a thoughtful look. She leans her elbows on the table, resting her chin in her palms as she watches him, before lowering her voice. "Ali, there ain't no call to get like that with him. He was jus' bein' friendly." Her face shows the belief in that statement.
Alistair glances to Brady for a moment, then back to Cali, sitting down beside her. He listens to her, his gaze lowering slightly. There's a moment where the smile might fade but that passes too as he bites his lower lip. "He did buy you a beer" he says. "Feel like having a bite to eat?"
Mikjel sips at his drink, then sucks happily at his cigarette. Turning, he leans with his back against the bar, watching the stage, the dancers and the crowd and soaking up the ambience. A plume of smoke drifts upward as he stands, listening to the conversation next to him, the only one that he can hear, as he watches the entertainment.
With the shiny pair stepped off, Brady returns to his duties as unofficial watch of the day. Given his focus, though, it's unlikely he's not much use as security. Intermittently, his eyes drift back to Cali, but that could just be for the dress. Yes, that is it. He is the feminine apparel specialist.
Caliopa returns Alistair's gaze for a moment, frowning slightly. She leans forward, lowering her voice as she does so. "Ali, folks're allowed to buy me a drink if I say yes. It ain't like a promise to go sleepin' with them or nothin'." There is a tiny glint of the red head's temper in her eyes, "I guess, ought to eat, seein' as how we came out to get somethin'."
"I meant that as an acknowledgement that he's just being nice" Alistair replies, blinking his eyes at her, his expression showing confusion for a moment. He had just leaned in to listen to her as well. A short pause as he tries to clear it all up, and he reaches for her hand. "What would you like to eat?"
His cigarette finished, Mikjel butts it out on his boot, tucking the end back into his tobacco pouch. He looks over to the person beside him, on the opposite side of the couple, then back to the stage, relaxing as he sips his rye and greets the man.
The music changes to something with guitars and backing percussion that sounds like someone hitting a car with a hammer.
Caliopa nods slowly at Alistair's reply, and as she opens her mouth to reply, someone bumps into the back of her chair, spilling drink over her dress. An exclamation of dismay breaks from her as she jumps up, pulling her hand from Alistair's. Despite the apologies and Caliopa's promises that it didn't matter, when the people leave, she turns to Alistair. "Reckon I'm goin' to head home, get out of this. I ain't spendin' the evenin' stinkin' of beer."
Alistair is just a moment too late to catch the glass too, eyes wide; he turns his head to look to Cali, blinking. He sits back a little until she makes her decision, putting a hand on one of her shoulders. "Okay" he nods, "I'll come with you ... sorry" he murmurs, and stands up to offer his hand.
The man next to him says something quiet. Mikjel lets out a bark of loud laughter, before saying, "Fool's wager, man. I won't even take your credits. She ain't likely to, after that." He looks back toward the dancers, paying especial attention to one in a costume that seems to be mostly feathers. "Were half expecting a weighted fist and a broken jaw before that," he adds, in a tone that suggests that he thinks that the grinding music, overlaid with a heavily-distorted track of someone breathing deeply, is making him inaudible.
Caliopa hesitates for a second before she shakes her head. "I don't reckon I'm real good company tonight, Alistair." A moment before she adds, "If you don't mind, that is." The tension in her face, in her shoulders, speaks of the flaring temper under tight control for a moment. She doesn't take his hand, or offer a kiss, only giving him a quick nod before she turns towards the door to leave. Mikjel's comments are heard, bringing a flare of colour to her cheeks and speeding her steps.
"Um" Alistair starts to say something, but there just doesn't seem much to say; instead he's naturally left frustrated with the situation at hand. "Hey now ... " his brows hike up a little, though there's probably no one to hear him; he starts towards the exit as well - perhaps to catch with her? Who knows.
Mikjel shrugs. "See?" He waits for a minute, letting Alistair and Caliopa well out of earshot before adding to his new friend, "Ain't slap/kiss, and she ain't gonna entertain everyone around. Poor fuck's chasing a tail that's about three notches out of his league." He shrugs and gestures with his glass toward the dance floor. "Speaking of, chicky in the feathers. Five says she keeps wiggling like that, everyone in the club gets a free show." He settles against the bar, watching to see if his wager comes true. A faster drumbeat, distorted horns, "A god of love, a god of care, a god of hope, a god of woe..."
Alistair doesn't quite make it to the door - a look over his shoulder has him coming back with a look of concern on his face, mixed with everything else. Once back at the bar, he reaches out to pick up the purse that Cali had forgotten, looking at it for a few moments. He hides it under his jacket a few moments later, and finally asks the barkeep, who had been staring at Ali for a few moments now: "Hey ... can I have" a couple ears perk up - will he ask for milk? With strawberries? Har har. "Can you get me some scotch - just plain, and, um..." he produces the correct coinage while the barkeep gets the drink, perhaps a little reluctantly.
Mikjel leans over to the man next to him. There is a hushed, whispered conversation, and the two of them pull out some coins, making a collective pile before calling the bartender over. There is a discussion. More coins are added to the pile. The pile is offered, a tip is produced. "You see, that god is not above you, wrapping healing arms around you. You'll find another god of pain, a god of suffering and tears."
A few moments later, a tumbler is placed in front of Alistair. Eight ounces of clear, odourless, colourless liquid. Mikjel and his co-conspirator turn and begin watching their chosen dancer again.
Mikjel is leaning against the bar, watching the dancers and trading quips with a man beside him.
The place seems to be hopping as usual; Alistair is standing by the bar and by the looks of it, he's hiding something under his jacket. When the tumbler is placed in front of him he blinks. "Huh?" and turns his head to look to the barkeep, but the bar is busy and another customer is being served already. "Uh ... " he makes a bit of a face, wrapping his hand around the glass and lifting it slightly.
The glass is ice-cold. The music shifts to garbled, indistinct growling over muddy guitars. Nontheless, it has a beat, and people keep dancing after a brief shuffle of bodies onto and off of the dance floor. Mikjel sips from his glass again before setting it down to roll a new cigarette, his eyes not wavering from the dancer in feathers. In the midst of a particularly tricky step, he pauses, holding his half-made cigarette in one hand and holding the other out to the man next to him, but dancer completes it while managing to keep all feathers in place and preserving her modesty. He sighs, saying, "Bah. Though that would do it for her."
Alistair lifts the glass up to his lips - well, not quite. A moment later he tries a sip. Most people's eyes seem to be on the dance floor anyway - he shrugs a little, and then lifts the glass higher, downing the whole thing pretty fast - and casually. The glass is then set down with a sigh. "Thanks" he murmurs, perhaps to no one.
Erica walks off of the dance floor wearing an outfit quite different from her regular fatigues. Smiling softly as she makes her way to the bar she nods at the two people she recognizes before she orders a raspberry vodka and soda. Sher lets out a soft noise of satisfaction as she takes a sip from the cool drink. Turning her back to the bar she leans against it and watches the dance floor but not before waving at Alistair and Mikjel.
The man next to Mikjel shrugs and says, "The bar show's done, I've tipped the performers, and Feathers has her costume glued on," before holding out his hand. Mikjel nods sadly, handing him five credits and giving him a clap on the shoulder and a smile. Turning back, looking back at the dance floor, still vaguely hopeful to see more of the dancer, he sees Erica approaching and waves back. As he does, he sees Alistair's sudden movement out of the c orner of his eye. He turns a little further, and, on seeing the empty glass, says, under his breath, "Oh dear. ight not want to try standing up if you're
Mikjel says, "Oh dear. Might not want to try standing up if you're shooting bleach like that."
"Hi" Alistair greets Erica briefly, staring at the glass for a few moments. It doesn't take too long for his cheeks to start coloring. "Why?" he asks, frowning faintly, then his eyes close for a moment, and open again as if he was nodding off, but just once. He exhales and turns his his head to look to the exit.
Erica stirs her raspberry vodka and soda with her small straw before taking another sip of her drink. Setting the drink down she fans her self with her cocktail napkin to help her cool off after dancing for a while. Still fanning herself she turns to Alistair and smiles warmly at him. "Are you ok Alistair? I don't see you drinking often." Turning to Mikjel she asks him. "Is he ok?" Her hands move to straighten her little dress
The DJ steps back, and the music changes, lowers to a smoky beat, and the lighting changes to match. The dancers tune into the slower beat, romance in the air. On the stage, a woman in a red dress appears, her voice matching the beat. "What you want... baby, I got it..." She walks down the steps, mingling easily with the crowd, her voice carrying over the speakers. "What you need, babe, I got it..." As she passes people, she makes light touches, flirtatious, her green eyes sparkling in the light. Nearing their part of the bar, she pauses by the man on the other side of Alistair, running her fingers over his shoulder, "All I want you to do is give it to me when we get home..." She winks, turning to face Alistair, with a glance over her shoulder at the other man. "Respect..."
Mikjel raises an eyebrow. "That were eight shots of brain bleach." He pauses to clarify, "120 proof Triax vodka. Ain't cheap, but there's nothing better to scrub out a bad memory." As the woman in the red dress approaches, his eyes follow her for a few seconds before he grins at Erica. "Reckon he shouldn't be driving, fighting, fucking or trying to skate right now. Other than that, should be fine. Leastwise, till he wakes up tomorrow."
Alistair starts to reply to Erica, "Just -" but he doesn't finish. It isn't that he gets interrupted or anything, maybe it's that a little white lie doesn't suit him right now. Aimee draws his attention then, just because she's in that direction and winking at him. "Wha..." he looks to Mikjel - maybe things are just happening a little too fast for Alistair, maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it's both - or maybe his mind is completely elsewhere. "Then I ... should go home" he nods, and turns for the exit. Perhaps the plan's to get there before the drink kicks in.
Erica's mouth drops open and she lets out a little whimper as the woman in the red dress starts singing. She nods her head slowly towards Mikjel as her eyes follow the sway of the singer. "I've had a sip of that before makes me cough like nothing else... And I'll watch out for... him..." She trails off as the beautiful singer approaches them. Raising her glass to her pink painted lips she takes a long sip from her cocktail, but her eyes never lose contact with the beautiful woman.
Aimee arches an eyebrow, turning to face her crowd, green eyes dancing. "I think I scared him, ladies and gentlemen..." Her voice is husky, an alto purr, that matches a look of feline amusement as she follows the hapless Alistair with her eyes. Her steps are a swaying stalk, a deliberate sway in her hips, as she turns to the next hapless man, Mikjel. Once again, her voice is raised in the husky song. "Your kisses, Sweeter than honey..." She reaches out to touch fingertips to his cheek, winking, laughter in her eyes, "And guess what? So is my money ..."
As Alistair gets off the stool, Mikjel gives Aimee and Erica a smile that radiates innocence as pure as the driven slush. He sets his glass of rye and his unlit cigarette on the bar and stands up, watching Alistair start to stagger across the bar as Aimee approaches. "I think I might need to rescue him and pour him back onto a stool in... Three..." He smiles at Aimee as she stalks toward him. "Two..." As she strokes his cheek, he turns, kissing her palm with a nip and a wink. "One..." He bows slightly to the pair of them before slipping through the crowd after Alistair.
Erica holds her drink just below her mouth the straw between her lips, but she doesn't take a drink as she watches Aimee with wide eyes. She doesn't move but just keeps watching. As Mikjel moves she looks at him with unbelieving eyes as he walks towards Alistair. Shaking her head she turns back to Aimee and takes a long sip of her drink.
Aimee's laugh rings out through the mic headset she is wearing, and when she can speak, she comments, "I'm just scaring them away today, darlings..." It is a soft purr, amusement in her voice, her ego secure enough thankfully. She makes a little gesture to the DJ and the music changes, Aimee's voice husky as she adds, "Humidity is rising - Barometer's getting low..." She winks at Erica, reaching out to brush her cheek with her fingertips. "According to all sources, the street's the place to go..." Aimee has amusement in her voice at that line, her eyes dancing.
Erica squeaks softly in her little high pitched voice as she feels those fingertips brush her cheek. She trembles ever so slightly as she stands up a bit from the bar she was leaning against. Her hand grips her cocktail tightly as she keeps staring at Aimee as she sings. She tongue sneaks out and licks her lips quickly unconsciously.
The crowd parts, not wanting to interfere with the free, impromptu entertainment and floorshow. About five steps from the door, Mikjel catches up to Alistair as the latter stumbles. He loops the other man's arm over his shoulders and helps him up, whispering something in his ear with a grin before looking up at the bouncers and merrily offering reassurances. He helps Alistair back to the barstool beside Aimee, ensuring that he's not going to fall off, before whispering in Aimee's ear, slipping past her and Erica, and resuming his place at the bar.
Bartholemew steps into the club unzipping his heavy coat used to protect him from the damn near freezing temperatures outside. He gives a brief glance over the crowd as he makes his way to bar for a drink. As he gets to the bar looking down the length he smirks moving his attention to the bartender to place his order. "A shot and a beer." then looks over towards the entertainment.
Aimee's eyes crease a little at the corner as she smiles between lines, her hand moving to gently brush Erica's hair, a light touch before she moves on. Mikjel's whisper gets an amused look before she sings more, "Cause tonight for the first time, just about half-past ten for the first time in history it's gonna start raining men." She blows a kiss, which could be aimed at any of the three as she moves on into the crowd, nearing Bartholemew. She continues to sing the lyrics, her husky voice carrying across the club until she reaches the end of that song. The DJ slips into a faster beat, and Aimee reaches for the glass of iced water the bar staff have ready.
Erica lets out a soft breath she didn't know she was holding as Aimee moves away. A little shiver runs up and down her spine as her eyes keep following Aimee, but soon she finishes off her drink and spins around to roder another. Opening up her purse she takes a couple credits out and hands them to the bartender as she gets a new drink. Fanning herself with her hand to cool herself down she takes another long drink before turning back around to lean against the bar.
The beat quickens, there is a long moan from the speakers, and the DJ puts on a few brief snippets from a track while Aimee drinks her water. "Try to make you wonder just why you feel so violently strange? Now don't you feel like a god when you come and savour my skin?"
Mikjel leans against the bar beside Erica, tilting his head over to say to her, "With the poor man passed out on the bar like that, I guess step two ain't happening tonight." He shrugs dramatically at her, grinning widely. "I'll be your goddess and you'll sing my praises! Flesh is the law!"
Bartholemew removes his coat draping it over the stool next to him sitting down in his own sideways so he can see the whole room roughly. As his shot and beer arrives, he slams the shot, the shot glass thumping on the bar a bit when he finishes and picks up the beer taking a large swig. He smiles to Aimee while he listens to her finish her song.
Aimee's brief break is done and she puts the glass down with a nod to the staff. She turns, as the DJ swings back into background for her. "Ladies and gentlemen..." She speaks the words clearly, "This is mambo number five..." She laughs, as the beat picks up, and she sings, her voice souring. "One, two, three, four, five... Everybody in the car, so come on let's ride to the liquor store around the corner. The boys say they want some gin and juice, but I really don't wanna beer bust like I had last week..." She moves, teasing Mikjel briefly in passing, her eyes laughing, "A little bit of Monica in my life, A little bit of Erica by my side, A little bit of Rita's all I need, A little bit of Tina's what I see, A little bit of Sandra in the sun, A little bit of Mary all night long, A little bit of Jessica here I am... " She pauses to turn, hopping onto the bar, visible to the crowd, "A little bit of you makes me your gal..." Then silence for a moment.
Erica nods her head absently at Mikjel as she starts tapping the beat of the music against her glass. "I guess not. What was step two again? What happened that makes him want to forget so bad?" She keeps glancing at Aimee before glancing back at Mikjel. "Anything I can do to help?" She claps her hands together as the song begins again. She quickly puts her drink on the table and starts hurring over to the dance floor as her eyes look to Aimee and linger on the other woman. She flashes Aimee a warm smile before she starts moving her body to the music
The bar has been hospitable enough it seems; Alistair sits up quickly, blinking his eyes open. He starts to look left and right, a little confused for the first few seconds, then he pats his jacket to check that the purse is still there. "Damnit" he murmurs, "Cali?" he looks around again, and turns his head to look at Aimee for a moment. "I guess Mr. Desmond's gift worked - um" his expression starts to turn to one of dismay though soon enough. He puts a hand on the counter and slowly tries to get off the stool.
Bartholemew sips on his beer watching the entertainment, tapping his fingers on the bar to the new upbeat tune unconciously. His attention seems to linger on those he recognizes, a look of amusement as Erica hurries out to the dance floor and their seemingly drunk friend lifts his head off the bar.
Mikjel smiles broadly at Erica, setting his drink on the bar and twirling lightly around on the balls of his feet. He catches her hand as she heads for the dance floor, gesturing with his head toward Aimee, on the bar. "Are you sure you want to go running off? I mean, the girl that you're staring at ain't two feet away and right above you. You've got the best view in the house!" As he says this, in a voice loud enough to carry, he is laughing helplessly, his face purest joy and any questions wholly unanswered.
At Aimee's signal, the beat picks right up, a fast pace, and she sings, "He met Marmalade down in Old New Orleans struttin' her stuff on the street. She said, "Hello, hey Joe you wanna give it a go?" She slides from the bar, the movement provocative, and she gives Mikjel a laughing look as she moves past him, glancing over her shoulder. "Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?" She lifts her arms, giving a shimmy that causes the dress's skirt to swirl a little before she spins, moving into him, "Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?" Her voice is a throaty purr, her eyes giving him a challenge.
Erica blushes brightly as she hears Mikjel's question, turning her pale skin a shade of pink. Biting down and gnawing on her lower lip she looks down at her feet before turning her head slightly to Mikjel. "Gee you think you could have said that any louder?" Turning her head again to look at Aimee her eyes widen again at the sight of the woman but she makes no move to turn to her. Grabing her drink off the bar she takes a long drink from it and hangs her head low.
Mikjel pages: Woo! I get to use dirty, dirty French to answer you.
Alistair makes his way down from the stool and steadies himself for a moment; his eyes are drawn to movement and he looks to Aimee, then perhaps past her or through her - maybe he's just listening. Once she's out of stmbling range, he begins to head away from the bar with measured steps.
Bartholemew sits and enjoys the show until his beer is finished up. Setting the empty shot glass over the top of the bottle he stands up replacing his coat. Before heading out he waves the bartender over and whispers with him for a bit with a quick point down towards the group having fun on the other end. The bartender nods and moves off taking the credits Bart puts out in front of him. Bart heads on out. After Bart leaves the bartender comes over to the group offering a round of drinks for everyone in the group.
Mikjel catches Aimee around the waist, moving into step with her, next to her and following her lead. He is close enough to speak into her microphone and so he does, in a deep husky growl. "Si. Ce soir, nous coucherons. Ou..." and he reaches out a hand, mid-step, offering to draw Erica to Aimee, "...peut-etre vous y coucherez?" He pauses, waiting for a response, one arm around Aimee's waist and one hand extended to Erica. Over his shoulder, he winks at Alistair and says, this time away from the microphone, "Or maybe you?"
Aimee's eyes are twinkling, this close to her, and she makes a small gesture that the DJ takes and blends from that song to dance music. She steps forward, blowing a kiss at Erica. "I think, me, they have been good sports, non?" She laughs, lifting a hand to switch off the headset, before she turns to the others. "Ma petite, it isn't so bad, is it?" Her voice is husky, perhaps from the singing, perhaps naturally, and the green eyes hold amusement. "This man, is he so very naughty, and what is wrong that Alistair drinks like this?" She gives him a sidelong look, considering. "If he is sick on my floor, I shall be very displeased with him." Her tone is gently chiding.
Erica looks at the hand being offered to her and turns around from the bar to see where it goes. She squeaks in fright in her little high bitched voice and shakes her head as her blush deepens. She shakes her head as she bites down hard on her lower lip. Her eyes are open wide as she stares but she makes no move to take the hand. Her breathing quickens a bit as she sets her glass back on the bar and listens to the music. As she sees Aimee blow her a kiss she squeaks again and keeps gnawing on her lower lip. She moves over a tad on the bar to help make room for Aimee. "N... no it isn't so bad. You are quite wonderful. A great singer." She turns to look at Alistair and shrugs her shoulders. "I've been asking that for a while now. Mikjel what is he trying to forget?"
"Ce soir ... " Alistair mumbles, "Il n'a pas ... de" Alistair continues to take steps, the response itself evidence that he just might be paying some attention, "coucher ... " his expression brightens for a moment with a chuckle, probably at his attempt to compose a french sentence. He doesn't look like he's about to empty his stomach, but such things can come suddenly.
The music changes to soaring synthesised strings overtop a driving, pounding dance beat. The DJ has chosen to not break the tension and, instead, channel it out toward the dance floor.
Mikjel is still laughing, his eyes sparkling, head thrown back. A few credits slide across the bar as he orders a glass of water for Alistair. A pause as he finally lights his cigarette. "Plus tard, plus tarn, peut-etre qu'on aurait tous besoin des cigarettes." Another peal of laughter and a wink at Aimee before he switches back to American. "Well, and I might want to know your name before we all get to smoking. Anyway, well, Alistair there, I reckon that he missed the net a bit tonight." Above the strings, a soprano voice, overdubbed into a choir. "Kyrie, kyrie eleison."
"Me, I am Aimee." One name, and a one sided shrug to dismiss it. "I think you will see he gets home safely, oui?" She glances between the pair, a little more business and a little less teasing, "Or perhaps I should have staff take him home? It would not do to have this little lamb fleeced." Aimee turns to the staff member hovering by the bar, murmuring softly in his ear and he nods. The little lamb will be taken home safely, should his friends fail him, and a round of drinks appears for the three of them, Alistair's made from coffee. "Enjoy." She murmurs, turning and heading off into the crowd. For the rest of the night, she does the odd set, and mingles but doesn't come near them again.
The instrumental continues, drumming like taiko on oil barrels, reverberating through the floor. The chorus moans and chirps as the percussion echoes in machine-gun staccato and the dance floor writhes. Mikjel downs the shot that Aimee provided, his olive skin barely showing a blush, a blush for entirely differnt reasons than Erica's. Checking to make sure that Alistair hasn't fallen, he turns to Erica, leaning against the bar beside her and catching his breath. Far quieter than his flamboyance before, he says, "Next time, when she asks you to dance, say yes." He pauses, smiling and finishing his cigarette, then asks, "Maybe I ain't Aimee, but would you care for a turn on the dance floor anyway?"
The instrumental continues, drumming like taiko on oil barrels, reverberating through the floor. The chorus moans and chirps as the percussion echoes in machine-gun staccato and the dance floor writhes.
Mikjel downs the shot that Aimee provided, his olive skin barely showing a blush, a blush for entirely differnt reasons than Erica's. Checking to make sure that Alistair hasn't fallen, he turns to Erica, leaning against the bar beside her and catching his breath. Far quieter than his flamboyance before, he says, "Next time, when she asks you to dance, say yes." He pauses, smiling and finishing his cigarette, then asks, "Maybe I ain't Aimee, but would you care for a turn on the dance floor anyway?"
Erica shakes her head as she looks Mikjel up and down. "She wasn't interested in dancing with me. She was interested in you and Alistair. It is ok I'm used to it." She takes a couple of deep breaths to calm herself down and then takes another drink. "Sure we can dance if you want." She takes your hand in hers and leads you out to the dancefloor. Her tall heels make her walk in a swaying manner as she moves ahead of you.
Alistair is meantime continuing to move - generally towards this exit, now singing something. It probably goes with the music too, though a drunken performance isn't likely to be particularly great. He's not slipping out yet, so there should be time to dance for those who wish to do so - if not, there's always the staff.
The music continues in the same way, no lyrics, just a driving insistent beat. The dance floor is packed at this point, a press of moving bodies.
Mikjel reaches the centre of it, following Erica, and begins to move, gracefully but inexpertly. He is certainly not a practiced or trained dancer, but he is enthusiastic, can follow the beat and moves lightly on his feet. Leaning in close to Erica as he dances, he says in her ear, to be heard over the pounding music, "Maybe it were all an act, maybe she were just keeping the crowd up and drinking, but the only difference twixt the two of us all was that where you stopped and weren't moving, I stepped to and joined the game. Maybe it were a game, maybe it were real, but you ain't never gonna know lest you throw the dice and join the dance."
Erica moves gracefully on her tall heels. Moving on the balls of her feet, she sways and moves to the music. Listening to you for a moment she rolls her eye and shakes her head a bit. "No she wasn't interested in me. Despite the illusion that you so skilfully weave. I can tell when people are interested and she was not, but I did like watching her sing and dance." Her dress twirls around her as she does a quick tight spin, ending the spin as she faces you again.
Alistair isn't being particularly graceful - he stops here and there to make certain that he's going straight - of course, straight is somewhat relative and to him it likely means 'without falling', albeit watching him one might think the problem is in his head ... which it is - rather than with his feet, because his step is steady enough. Just careful - and apparently he's reasonably good at not stumbling into people.
Mikjel laughs, catching Erica's hand in his and twirling the other way, his feet on the floor matching the tempo of the music. There is a brief lull, synthesisers fluttering with no beat backing them as the DJ lets the dancers catch their breaths, then a crackle of static before the beat kicks in again. "Does it matter if she were interested for real? She were offering to let you play along in a show, at least. And, leastwise, ain't no shame, seeing as how half every eye in the room were fixed on her." He grins, spinning away from her, checking that he can still see Alistair in the crowd, before twisting back with a flourish and a step, saying, "Two words for you. Carpe the fucking diem."
Erica giggles softly and fans herself with her hand to cool down as the DJ takes a break. Smiling softly at Mikjel she turns to look for Alistair. She giggles as she watches him sway a bit but she doesn't make any move to stop him before turning her attention back to Mikjel. "Carpe your own diem. Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself, and so I didn't dance it is not the end of the world. I happen to be shy so what?"
Alistair now makes it to the exit; he offers the bouncers a little wave before slipping out, swiping at his forehead with one arm for a moment - then out he goes. The rain will wake him up; the weather's just evil out there.
Noting that one of the staff does follow Aimee's directions and follow Alistair out, Mikjel turns back to Erica, giving her a smile. During a lull in the music, he says, "Reckon there's only a few reasons to come out to a club. And one's to have fun. Ain't the end of the world. That's already dead, gone and buried anyway, but you stopped having fun soon as you figured that she wanted you all to join in. Just saying, maybe next time, you might have a mite more fun if you did."
The beat picks up with a breathy cry of "Zwara! Zwara!" and Mikjel starts dancing once more. Erica keeps shaking her head. "I'm having fun. And I didn't stop having fun. You make far too many assumptions Mikjel." She starts dancing as the beat picks up. Her body sways as she hops and moves to the upbeat song. She gives Mikjel a quick wink as she dances around him brushing against him with her hips everyonce in a while.
Mikjel laughs and continues moving with the beat. "Great, then let's keep the party burning!" That said, he keeps dancing, moving his whole body as Erica moves around him. In step, he moves close as she does, then apart again, mindful of bumping into other people on the dance floor, but keeping his eyes fixed on hers.
Erica keeps her wide, green eyes locked on your eyes. "I'm up for it if you are." She says as she grins as her body keeps moving, grinding to the beat. She is fairly light on her feet as she moves with you letting you lead. She weaves in and out of the crowd as she keeps close to you.
Mikjel grins and winks, continuing to look you in the eyes. He steps closer, taking your hand and moving to the beat, pressed against you for a moment, before the music shifts downtempo and he wraps his other arm around your waist, swaying with you to slow, soaring synths and exultory vocals.
"I'm leaving the ground. I stepped into a new world. I was not alone. I think it was the first time."
Erica places her other hand on your shoulder as the music changes. Her pink painted lips curve into a soft smile as she looks into your eyes while you start moving to the slow beats. She dances close to you her soft dress touching your body as you both sway. She hums along softly to the music.
Mikjel twirls with you, squeezing your hand and holding you close as the music changes to an equally slow song, but with a more emphatic and suggestive beat. He is able to look you directly in the eyes, arm around you, as he steps and turns in time with the slow, driving beat.
Erica looks up into your eyes as she moves her hips in time with the music trying to move with your lead. She keeps smiling as her graceful dance makes her heeled feet glide along the floor. A few people stop to watch and smile at you both as she keeps time with you her body pressed against yours at this point, moving against you.
Mikjel stays with you, chest pressed firmly to yours, hips close enough that your toes touch. His eyes are fixed on yours, dark and warm and a smile plays across his lips as he dances with you, closeness and movement as suggestive as the music. The only attention that he's paying to the crowd is to make sure that neither of you accidentally bump anyone around you. His eyes never waver from yours.
Erica keeps her eyes locked with your own as she stays oh so close to you. Her smile quirks a little bit but she keeps up the smooth and suggestive dance with you. Her hips roll against your own hips as she keeps up with you. She moves up and down as well grinding up against you as you both step.
Mikjel releases your hand to wrap his other arm around you, one around your waist and the other hand between your shoulder blades. As your hips grind against his, he replies in kind, each motion matched and answered. His chest, pressed to yours, moves with heavy breaths and his smile never wavers as he squeezes you against him, winking once.
The song continues its slow driving pulse."Enveloped in a sentiment, a sound that rushes over me. Engage an impulse to pretend I have a faith as pure. Not forgetting what it means to dream. Indulging everything.""And what will happen? Will I dream? I am too scared to close my eyes. For a second please hold me."
"Enveloped in a sentiment, a sound that rushes over me. Engage an impulse to pretend I have a faith as pure. Not forgetting what it means to dream. Indulging everything."
"And what will happen? Will I dream? I am too scared to close my eyes. For a second please hold me."
Erica wraps her other arm around your shoulders as she moves even closer to you. Her hands join together around the back of your head as she lets the music flow through her as she moves with you. Her excitement is obvious as her bosom is pressed against your chest. She giggles a little bit at your wink but her smile never falters.
Mikjel is breathing slowly and deeply, body moving with you, in step, in unison. His arms are loose around you once more as the beat pauses and a choral arrangement soars. Abruptly, there is a rush of static and a hard, fast, driving beat. He moves as if to step back again, still smiling warmly and looking you in the eyes.
"And onward now! And on forever! All great things to come!"
Erica's breathing quickens for a little bit as the beat pauses. Her smile widens for a moment and then her arms part from around your neck. as the beat becomes faster and she starts to move around you twirling about you as her heels click on the ground. She laughs like she is having a good time as she hips keep wiggling at you enticingly
Mikjel grins and laughs, catching your hand with his again and moving with Erica, turning to follow her motion, the hard soles of his boots marking time as well. He uses the joined hands almost as a prop, ducking under them as he twirls, dipping through a low bow, then back up, a grin on his face as he steps close, almost as close as before, then away again, raising his hand as if to let her twirl.
Erica keeps laughing as you catch her hand. She ducks and twirls with you letting you lead the dance. As you raise your hand she twirls underneath them before twirling back out. She giggles as the song stops and she lets go of your hands and gives you a quick curtsey as well a wink before heading back to the bar and her drink. "You'll have to let me take a little break Mikjel."
Mikjel grins, bowing flamboyantly with a twirl of his hand, a gesture at odds with the driving beat. He follows Erica back toward the bar, laughing and grinning. It's only once he actually stops that the exertion catches up to him, and he leans heavily against the bar before finding his glass and taking a small sip. After a moment, he manages to get the bartender's attention and order two glasses of water, adding, "If you want an actual drink, I owe you one for that dance, but right now, a cold glass of water ain't sounding too bad neither."
Erica fans herself with her hand as she picks up her mixed drink and takes a long sip from it before setting it back down on the bar. "You are quite the dancer there Mikjel. I am impressed." She takes up the water and takes a long drink of it before setting it down with a little gasp. She picks her purse off of her seat and sits down. Taking the little straw of her drink inbetween her fingers she stirs it around before raising it up and finishing it off.
Mikjel begins to roll a cigarette on the bar. "That weren't exactly dancing. Dancing's when you all can do the tango or something where everyone's in feathers and sequins. Weren't at all what we were doing. There's other names for that." He winks and smiles at you as he finishes rolling his cigarette, leaning against the bar, sipping his glass of water slowly.
Erica laughs at you as she shakes her head slightly. She raises her hand to tell the bartender she wants another drink before turning to Mikjel. "Well call it what you will, but I think it was dancing." She smiles as the bartender brings her another cocktail. She takes a step away as you ready to light your cigarette.
Mikjel shrugs and trades cigarette for glass, so that he is holding it away from you before he lights it. "Were fun, whatever you want to call it." He inhales deeply, then blows a plume of smoke up and away from you, even as his breathing slowly returns to a normal pace.
Erica drinks her new cocktail as she smiles warmly at you. "We will have to dance again some time, but I think for now I am going to need to take a break if you don't mind." She pays for her new drink with some credits as she leans back in her seat. "Soon though I hope we can dance again."
Mikjel nods easily. "I'm beat anyway. Reckon I'm gonna finish my drink, then head back home and crash right out." Mikjel recovers his half-filled glass of rye and takes a sip.
