Nov 26 13:47:52 106 PA - Trading thoughts, glances, and Mayas
From Chronicles
Kingsdale - The Alibi
Early in the evening and the music is blasting out, the clubbers are letting their hair down, despite the weather outside. The rain and the cold, and the blustery wind, none of these make people feel in a cheerful mood. And so the clubbers are acting up despite it, to show that nothing keeps them down. Maya though, she isn't acting up, dancing or otherwise. She has inhabited a bench seat, off to the side, cuddling her purple drink between her hands, staring forward, unseeing, with a frown on her face.
Mikjel steps in off the street. He receives the usual pat-down from the staff, showing plainly that he has no weapons. That done, and not having done anything yet to be thrown out of the club, he walks up to the bar, ordering what seems to have become his 'usual', a plastic pint glass, half-filled with cheap rye and ice. He turns, stepping away from the car to clear space, and scans the crowd for familiar, or at least cute, faces.
Brady moseys on in, and more than makes up for the lacks of others, at least where the doormen are concerned. At least he keeps them gainfully employed, with the rather lengthy process of handing over iron. Maybe he needs to get a fancy, engraved claim ticket, just for his exclusive use. Once he's cleared, he wanders on out through the tables, looking from the shaking curves on the dancefloor to those milling about the tables.
Maya isn't milling, so much as brooding, her expression readable, thoughtful, frowning. Men are clearly the topic on her mind and when one hapless version of that breed dares to approach, he gets a glower worthy of medusa. Amazingly, he fails to turn into stone, merely backing off, hands raised before vanishing into the crowd. She shakes her glass, giving it a hard stare for daring to be less than full and returns to brooding.
Mikjel makes his way to the dance floor, seemingly oblivious to Maya's funk and instead meanders through the crowd, sipping at his drink, then setting it on a rail somewhere near her. He turns and wanders a little ways out onto the dance floor and starts to enjoy the music.
Brady spots Tails' tails, but it takes a second look to be sure, since they ain't bouncing. That's a bit different, and he knows damned well she's not moody over, say, finding a corpse in the street. His mosey takes a turn her way, his curiosity piqued. Maybe she's just jonesing for coffee in a bad way.
Maya's head is tilted forward as she gives the drink a dark look, finally putting it to one side, as she considers the ice in it. The stare she gives it takes the brunt of thoughts of the harm she did Mikjel, and how guilty she feels, and that the Director hadn't been at work, so she had to delay the conversation, and fears that she would lose the guts to say it. The glower covers up upset Maya quite well, making her look angry instead, fiercely keeping the boys at bay.
The music is upbeat in a way that skips over defiant and straight to desperate. Mikjel has managed to find a place for himself on the dance floor. It wasn't that hard, seeing as the time and weather have conspired to keep it from being a full house. He is moving with a driving beat, curls of hair bouncing around his face as he dances.
Angry doesn't usually stop Brady. In fact, it comes with the territory, most times. "Credit for your thoughts, Tails?" He speaks up once he gets near the brooding (rather than bouncing) bunches, with a grin to try and offset Maya's glare. "As much as it looks like you're carrying, that'd be a steal."
The comment goes unnoticed for a moment before the look is focussed on Brady, before it softens and she grins then, forcing the mood to one side. Almost, had he not been looking before, it wouldn't have shown at all. "Tiny." She greets him, dropping her boots to the floor, offering a warm hug. "Whatcha up to?" She scoots up, offering him a space, even as her thoughts flicker back to the mysterious Director, the harm she did, and reflect the effort to grin so cheerfully.
Mikjel bounces and twirls, boots stomping on the ground when he lands. He is caught up in the music and the energy of the crowd. Even if it's aggressive, desperate, it's still energy, and he seems to have chosen to be out in the midst of it, dancing. He hasn't moved that far away from the table that Maya and Brady are occupying, and he is paying casual attention to what's happening there.
Brady takes the hug, and the seat, giving her a bemused smirk in return. "Not much, I guess, to hear you say it." He holds up thumb and forefinger a few inches apart. "What about you? Something's eating you, seems like. Trouble with preachers preaching, still?" She only mentioned it briefly, once, but he offers it up, anyhow, with a quirked brow. "Figured you'd be out there bouncing around..." The other hand waves 'out there' and he turns with it, indicating the energetic folks...including the one fellow that's looking his way. His other brow crooks, pointedly and curious, at Mikljel.
Maya's grin wavers a little around the corners and then fades, the girl turning to face the table, boots on the chair opposite. "He wasn't available to talk to." The words are mumbled as she reaches for the near empty drink, oblivious to Mikjel's attention. "And I don't feel like dancing. I made a cock up and hurt someone." An innocent question, the girl oblivious to the mind reading of her companion, as she turns to look at him. "Do you think it is wrong to use telepathy and empathy on someone without asking?" Her thoughts are a jumble of guilt at the harm she did and the frustration with the Director.
Mikjel continues dancing, not changing his actions at Brady's raised eyebrow. His hands move in the air with the melody, while his boots stomp on the floor with the beat. He certainly isn't devoting anything near his full attention to the pair, that goes to the music and the people near him on the dance floor. But he certainly looks their way once in a while, gauging the mood at that table.
"Me? No, I don't reckon so." Brady slowly turns his attention back to Maya, but keep a half an eye not too far from the dancing looky-loo. She gets all of his grin, though. "Suppose it depends on what it's used for. If you're trying to help out, that ain't so bad. Course, it's better if you don't get caught looking, too." He winks, then denies his own advice. For ears ears, only, and skipping them, too, he adds, ~Course, it ain't what /I/ think that's bugging you.~
Maya's returning smile isn't even half watt, a forced, failing attempt. "I reached out, without thinking, felt someone's feelings and what I felt didn't match..." She looks up at Brady, her face troubled. "So I looked and I hurt him." She tries to keep her words nondescript, aiming at keeping the man's secrets but her thoughts are pretty specific, thinking that she thought Mikjel murdered his wife. And then, her mind slips back to the Director before she drags it back stubbornly.
A song ends, Mikjel leaves the dancefloor, wiping his brow with one hand. He walks behind Maya to get his drink, and then walks down the room a ways, finding a spot next to the wall and under a speaker to stand. There, he begins to roll a cigarette, leaning against the wall, one foot in front of the other.
Brady attempts to make up for hers with his own smile. "Buck up, Tails. Ain't worth kicking yourself over..." His words pause a little as his baby blues shift from her to Mikjel, following him briefly when he passes. "I'm guessing he's over it, or he would've let you know. You ought to do the same." He looks back to Maya and twists his lips to light smirk. "You got enough to worry about with your boss man, anyways, it seems to me. Can't worry about everything." He sure doesn't want to, and decides that he's had enough of Maya's internalized bouncing, for now.
"I guess." She replies, apparently not entirely unconvinced the Brady's comment does at least draw her mind to the biggest problem on her mind, the Director, and Maya's smile turns rueful. "That is the truth. I'll go dizzy worrying over everything." She pushes her glass away, twisting in her seat to put her legs across his lap, settling down next to him, her head tilting back to look up at him. "So what can we do to take my mind off a hot priest that is keeping his distance?" The deliberate tease is obvious, the corners of her mouth quirking. One thought at the top of her mind, "Perhaps if I fuck him, it'll take my mind off this."
Mikjel lights his cigarette and inhales deeply, a plume of smoke drifting up to the ceiling as he exhales. Another man, in black slacks and an equally form-fitting black t-shirt, approaches him. They chat for a moment and Mikjel hands over his cigarette, leaning back again as he rolls a second, pausing mid-roll to take a long swig of his drink. That done, they begin talking again, leaning in close to hear each other over the loud music from the speaker directly above them.
Brady almost cut her off too soon. A moment earlier, and he might not have had that insight. Apparently, great minds do think alike. As she drops her legs on his lap, he drops a hand to one of them, above the knee. Just so it don't slip off and get her hurt, of course. His smirk blooms to a wide grin. "Well, Tails, I reckon we can think of something to keep you busy. Hos about some coffee? Think it's your turn to make it, though." He doesn't know if he can take her mind off other things, but he's concerned and helpful enough to give it a try.
Maya shifts, a deliberately teasing movement as she shifts into his lap, her knees either side of his thighs. She reaches forward, taking his hat and placing it on the back of her head, nudging it backwards with one finger, grinning at him. "Coffee is it?" She rests hands on his shoulders, kneeling up, a deliberately teasing position. "Sure, why not? I have something to do first." Despite the teasing, she looks to be leaving his lap...
Mikjel glances over to them, then returns to his conversation with the other man. They chat, standing very close to each other, a few more minutes and the other finally motions toward the dance floor. Mikjel holds up a finger, indicating that he intends to finish his cigarette and his drink, then leans back against the wall, consuming both while watching all three objects of his interest.
Brady is a little surprised by his sudden lapful of Stetson-stealing Maya. Slightly surprised, or a good act of it, but not complaining. The emptying of his lap is nore unexpected, and not so easily accepted, but he doesn't stop her. "Alright..." He's not sure what to add to that, but he does have some patience.
Maya has made a clear beeline towards Mikjel, finally arriving in front of him with a little jump, her hands pressed together in front of her. "Mikjel." The greeting is serious, and Maya's expression matches. Her voice is lowered, to keep the conversation between the pair of them, "I wanted to apologise for the other day. I had no right to intrude." She hesitates before continuing. "But I think you might need to be aware that people here, they use their abilities without thinking it wrong."
Mikjel shrugs, his eyes watching the man on the dance floor. "Yup. Kinda got that when you did it to me the other day. I reckon you meant no harm, and I meant it when I said that I don't mean you no harm neither." He pulls his eyes away from the other man's rump. A nice rump too. Roundish, the kind that encourages squeezing. To Maya's eyes, which bear no resemblance to the former except for being roundish. "Ain't got much, but I got that. Don't mean you no harm, and it ain't my way to let you come to harm neither."
Brady rises to his feet, not following Maya, but just loitering as she does what she needs to. The private conversation is just that, although what he does know from his prior snooping might explain most of it, including Mikjel's eyeballing from before. For right now, the sight of Maya somewhat bouncing again, and in his hat, is more than enough to suit him.
Maya gives Mikjel a steady stare, with serious hazel eyes before her grin bursts out, bright and cheerful, and Mikjel gets a Maya-Special hug, her arms thrown around his neck as she presses her body against him, more like an over friendly puppy than a sexual tease. "I just wanted to be sure we were friends again." She explains, muffled against his shirt, her emotions reflecting her words, absolute pleasure at being sure of that.
Mikjel wraps his arms tightly around Maya, one arm around her shoulder, the other holding her head to his chest. Out on the dance floor, he is shot a Look and a raised eyebrow. He squeezes her affectionately, then says, just loud enough to be heard over the music, "You all might want to get going before your preacher there starts thinking you're inviting me along to your private party." There is a slight laugh as he says that, only a movement of his chest against her.
A cigarette is fished out of a vest pocket so Brady can light it. He's patient, but also keen on time management. A slight nod is given to the momentarily Maya-mashed Mikjel. Looks like everything's going to turn out alright, as far as Brady can tell.
The Maya in Mikjel's arms goes still, an emotion in her revealing just how off the mark he is with that preacher comment, and how much she wishes he weren't. Despite that, she pulls back with a grin on her face, hiding it well enough for those not meddling in her feelings and thoughts to not get a glimpse. "Not the preacher. That's Tiny." The shirt does twirl around her thighs as she turns, almost bouncing back to Brady, determined to keep the mood up, as she literally launches herself at him, aiming to wrap arms around his neck, legs around his waist, a flying Maya.
"I hope he's a good lay, then." As he says that, the music takes a turn for the quiet. Mikjel notes that a few people have turned to look and he gives an expressive shrug and rolls his eyes, gestures of the spurned rather than the encouraging tone that he was originally attempting for. He walks back toward the dancefloor, reaching for the hand of his former conversation partner, who does not respond in kind. Another shrug and he resumes dancing.
The softer music is ill-timed, and Brady has to smirk. "You really need to stop..." And then his hat is returned to him, with Maya, and via air mail. It's a good thing she's prepared to cling, because it takes a half-second before he actually catches her. Once her rear is securely in hand to prevent a nasty fall, he chuckles. "Miss me?" Then he glances over her shoulder, calling out to clarify for Mikjel. "Don't need to worry about that."
Maya clings, burying her face in Brady's neck, her teeth seeking flesh for a moment there, a teasing nip, no more. "I need to stop? You want me to let go?" Trustingly, she does, leaning back into that hand holding her, holding his hat in her hand. "Take me home for coffee..." The words are mouthed at him, as she leans back, laughing, her grin broad.
Mikjel doesn't hear either of them, instead swaying on the dance floor until a drumbeat kicks in and going back to enjoying himself, with the occasional ogling of other dancers. He dips a flamboyant bow in their direction, though, and makes a well-wishing gesture.
"I was talking about the nickname, Tails." Brady isn't really offended, and looses a laugh as he starts for the door with her literally in hand. Now comes the hard choice of dropping one pleasant accessory for the others. In the end, with a bit of finagle, he lets Maya re-cling so he can get his iron back and stowed. With a wink and grin to those manning the doorcheck, he offers his apologies. "I'd tip my hate or wave, but she's a handful." Or two. After that, moseying on through the door is an easy challenge. [Category:Mikjel]]
