Roleplay City
Infusco => INFUSCO: Enter The Shadows => Club Zero => Topic started by: Ehcorn on December 09, 2019, 04:57:29 PM
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OPEN TO ALL
Group RP. No posting order.
Dress nice per club rules (http://www.roleplaycity.com/forum/index.php?topic=7213.0). Note: It's Friday night in this RP.
Normally, Dana hated clubs. They were too noisy, too crowded, too much, but she’d stopped at the liquor store before coming to Club Zero. She was too buzzed to give a damn now. Voices had become background noise, and yeah, sometimes people bumped into her where she sat at the bar, but their presence was always temporary. Once they got their drinks, they left. If anyone lingered and tried to strike up a conversation that wasn't relevant to her next story, draping herself over her whiskey and pretending they didn’t exist usually got them to leave her alone.
For the more persistent ones — the sort that didn’t take hints because they were shit-faced — she resorted to a tried-and-true tactic.
She asked them if they’d accepted Jesus into their hearts. Did they want to know more about the sacrifice he'd made and the path of redemption he'd opened to them all? She had pamphlets. Did they want one?
Her latest victim, a lumberjack of a man with big tree trunk arms and a beard that hung over his barrel-shaped chest, had lasted an impressive ten seconds before he took off so fast his beer sloshed out and splashed onto Dana’s arm.
"You’re not going out of your way to keep company, are you?" inquired the bartender as he offered her a wad of napkins that she quickly accepted.
Dana flashed an appreciative smile and dabbed the sleeve of her black pinstripe pantsuit. There’d been a dress code, but nothing that said she had to wear a dress. Two smokey eyes and one pair of bright red lips later and she’d transformed into someone respectable, someone who was allowed into fancy night clubs like this one. God, she couldn't wait to change back into a sweatshirt and jeans.
“I’m not,” she said, handing off the crumpled napkins and securing her heels on the middle rung of her barstool.
The bartender cocked his head at her, but she didn't elaborate and he eventually walked away, wiping the counter down as he went.
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The Cage scene had been mediocre tonight, a bunch of vamps wailing on some lower class demons. He should have a word with his sister or their godmother. The fights needed more guidelines and structure if they wanted to snare the big punters. So instead of watching the fights he had come to the main club area and danced.
The club was buzzing tonight and the dance floor was full. Thirsty and a little worse for ware he made his way to the bar. he sat a stool over from the woman huddling over her drink glaring at anyone who sat too long beside her.
"Water please Marcus." He said to the bartender once he had caught his eye. he then flicked his eyes over the woman near him and smiled slightly. He knew her from somewhere, had seen her before but not here.
" Hey, you going to drink that drink of yours so I can buy you another one or are you going to just glare at it all night?" he asked with a teasing tone as he leaned slightly over in her direction so she could hear him over the noise. She seemed absolutely human but when he leaned towards her he recognized the slight muskiness of wet dog. Was she part of the pack then? maybe that was where he had seen her.
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Dana had been fully prepared to run off her aspiring drinking companion, but one glance at him and she breathed a disbelieving laugh. He might not have recognized her, but she knew who he was. The last time she’d seen him, his hair had been a writhing mess of snakes and she’d learned he was a gorgon: a species she’d thought was nothing more than an ancient myth. She knew his name, too, because it'd been unique enough that she didn’t need to reference her notebook to remember it.
Phoenix. Yet another mythical creature (unless those turned out to be real, too).
At Ben Samson's campaign tent, he'd stood with his sister at Saraekiel’s side, though she couldn’t recall if she’d heard him speak or not. She’d been too busy writing all the names of the people who were friendly with the dark angel and, in her mind, damned by association. Had she written down Ben’s name? She should’ve written his name down. Where the fuck was her notepad, anyway?
She turned, looking for the familiar shape of her messenger satchel at the base of her barstool. It wasn't there. Her stomach sank at the same time panic rose until she remembered that they’d taken it from her when she came in. They didn’t like her kind there. Not werewolves. Reporters. Couldn’t have anyone walk away with hard evidence, could they? She’d have to use her mind, rely on her memories, but when she settled back into her chair and chewed her lip, she couldn’t feel it. Goddamnit, her whole face was numb. It was too late now, wasn’t it? She might as well take advantage of the offer.
"I’m not glaring at it," she said slowly, enunciating each word so one didn’t slur into the next. "That’s just how my face is. It’s a curse. Goes right along with the other one, I reckon." She snorted and knocked back what remained of her double shot of whiskey, then thunked it onto a cardboard coaster. When Marcus — the bartender — came by with Mr. I-Pretend-I-Don’t-Have-Snakes-For-Hair’s water, she pointed at her empty drink.
"He’s paying for this one," she said as he dutifully refilled her glass.
Once the bartender was gone, she twisted to prop her elbow on the counter and pillowed her cheek in her palm. She eyed Phoenix suspiciously. "So. I noticed people don’t turn into stone when you look at them. How’s that?"
And to think, she'd considered coming in there undercover.
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Apep looked upon the warehouse, his eyes gleaming gold in the darkness. His pretty face bore a smirk, his mask firmly in place for the evening he had planned. The Scarei had slithered out from his opium den to witness Butler in one of his legendary fights, and to remind those who would be interested of the services he provided. The White Rabbit and Club Zero had been steady sources to find buyers for Venom, and so Apep occasionally undertook the pilgrimage to other houses of sin and debauchery with the intent to peddle his wares. This particular establishment's sin was violence, wrath and pride born in its fighting pit. Apep didn't fear violence, but often found it an ineffective way to get what one wanted. It was brutish, and a poor substitute for charm and wit. It was the reason his fellow serpent fascinated the theif so much. Butler was an utter contradiction; internally a bottomless pit of aggression, but externally a practical dandy.
The sinister serpent wore clothes to fit the dress code, a grey three piece suit, slim cut to his dancer like body and custom tailored. The vest bore large silver buttons that caught nearby streetlights. His shirt wasn't buttoned at the top, and he wore no obvious tie. His open shirt exposed just a tad of upper chest, with dog tags running down his neck and acting as an incredibly loose bolo tie. His cuff links were silver too and held the image of coiled snakes. It's not as if he was going for subtlety. Apep had struggled hard to do anything about his hair, but ended up gelling it into soft little waves, with one tendril falling dangerously close to his eye. His beard was trimmed and brushed with oil, and it helped to keep his hair and beard a consistent unit.
The serpent smoked another two cigarettes before moving towards Club Zero's entrance, the whole time observing everything about the space. Who was coming in, who was leaving, who came out to smoke, how it smelt, how loud the club was from the outside; it was all data. He found he learned the most when he simply took the time to watch a scene unfold. Apep entered the bar and underwent the checks for bugs, making small talk with the guards as they searched him. He would never actually bring V to the club, and thanked them for keeping the club safe before slithering into the main bar. Despite the fact that he could be in his true form if he wanted, Apep decided not to transform fully. Instead, he simply let his eyes revert to their serpentine form, large orbs of gold with black slits.
The demon approached the bar and sat on the other side of Dana, ordering "whiskey, on the rocks," in his smooth and silky sounding voice. He turned to the pair already assembled and nodded politely, refraining from conversation, as to not interrupt any chat they might be having. He scanned the rest of the bar, looking for an opportunity to create a little mischief.
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The water was cool and refreshing, rejuvenating his dry parched throat with his first mouthful, a small sigh of pleasure slipped from his lips as he pulled the bottle from his mouth and smiled towards the woman as she ordered her drink. Her drink of course would cost him nothing, not that she needed to know that. Her comments about being cursed was interesting and not the first time he had heard lycanthropy described thus and he had to admit if only to himself that he kind of agreed, lycanthropy was not a gift he would ever want to receive. As for her face, there their opinions had to differ. He would describe it as austere rather than beautiful, well defined with sharp angles. It was an interesting face adorned with a pair of sharp and watchful eyes.
He placed his water bottle on the counter as the impressively dressed gentleman in the grey three pieces took his seat. He was glad of the weekend dress code of the club; it was a nice change from the dross of the weekday. The scent of snake that wafted towards him from the male who just took his seat had Phoenix’s nostrils flaring as he turned his face in his direction in surprise. It had been awhile, a long while since he had come across a Scarei but he would recognize that spicy scent anywhere and the trouble that seemed to follow in their wake.
Dana’s question had him returning his undivided attention back to her. His eyes turned serpent from startled surprise. When or how…? He hardly ever allowed his true nature to show and he liked his hair curly rather than hissing. He studied her with renewed interest.
I’m not cursed, was his first thought in response to her impertinent question.
How do you stop yourself from chasing cars and howling at the night sky? was his second.
The band started playing The Big Bopper's 'Little Red Riding Hood' and the room was suddenly filled with the howls of various weres in the crowd showing their appreciation of the song choice.
“With control and choice,” was his actual verbal response which was given with a sharp yet slightly amused smile. “Marcus!” he called to the bartender with a slightly raised voice, his eyes never leaving Dana’s face. “I’ll have an ouzo with lemonade. Sprite not that 7up shit, thank you.”
He tilted his head slightly and narrowed his eyes. “Have we met before?” he asked Dana curiously. “I take it we have but I can’t seem to place you.”
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Aside from the time she spent as a moon monster, Dana’s nose wasn’t any more sensitive than it had been before she’d fucked up and gotten bitten. It didn’t prevent her from smelling the man that’d settled onto the stool next to her, though. Every intake of breath and she got two big lungfuls full of acrid, burnt tobacco.
Some people might’ve disliked the smell of smoked cigarettes lingering around a person after they’d had their fix, but Dana didn’t mind it — she’d just found someone she could bum from. She’d partially twisted around to look at him the same moment Phoenix shifted to inspect him, but her suggestion that he be a pal and give her a cigarette for later died on her lips when she got a good look at his eyes. Definitely not human, but beyond that, she didn’t have the foggiest what he was except someone who also appreciated whiskey. Then his weird eyes were off and peering into the depths of the club and Phoenix began talking and her moment passed.
Dana swiveled to face the gorgon. Her drink had found its way back into her hand, though she didn’t remember picking it up. She took a sip from it anyway. She couldn’t taste it.
“Naw, we’ve never met before,” she drawled. As she tapped the sides of her short black heels against the legs of her stool idly, Dana contemplated leaving it at that, making him work for it the same way she had to work for all her fucking answers, but she was too drunk to play games without falling on her face. “Saw you, though, at the campaign tent last weekend. I’d just finished interviewing Ben Samson when you rolled in with Sareek... Sareekrr…” Only on her second attempt to say the dark angel’s name did she realize how badly she’d mangled it. No amount of enunciating could’ve helped her navigate that minefield. “You know. Wings. Runs things in the North. That guy.”
She sat up and thrust her hand out at him to be shaken. “My name’s much easier. Hi. I’m Dana.” In a stage whisper, she added, “I’m a reporter.”
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Apep received his drink, and swirled it around the glass. The ice clinked as it hit the sides. and the gentle sloshing of the whiskey was like a respite and a symphony within the confines of Club Zero. The demon took a sip, parting his lips in a "tisk, tisk, tisk," sound before slowly pushing the glass back towards Marcus. The bartender didn't notice at first, busy tending to snake-hair and dog woman. Their scents were clear enough now that Apep remained near them. Neither had outright spoken to him, but he was learning about both by proximity.
The gorgon stated choice was the primary reason he hadn't turned them all to stone, but Apep wondered if other factors were at play. Who held this monster's leash? Apep had heard a wolf-mother ran this establishment, and that they all sucked the proverbial tit of the district leader, who's name Dana was struggling to remember. Was it really choice that steadied his hair, or was it orders given by someone with more clout? Apep was determined to find out.
The Scarei learned a lot about people from what they chose to order. The specificity of the soda mixer caused the corners of Apep's mouth to curl every so slightly as he considered the illusion of choice. To Apep, it was all the same garbage; Sprite, 7-Up, Freska. It was all no calorie fizzes with a lemon-lime twist. Apep thrived on providing the illusion of choices to customers. People liked to feel in control, and making a confident choice was a path to that feeling.
The wolf-woman, Dana, ordered whiskey. Apep had ordered the same, and wondered if it was for the same reason. He wanted to taste the alcohol as he drank it. For Apep, this was to temper his own intake, but for Dana he couldn't be sure that was her goal. He leaned into the bar now, catching the bartender's eye with a neat smile.
"You gave me well whiskey," he said factually, but with no malice. "My mistake of course, but perhaps I can have something a bit higher up the shelf? Basil perhaps, or at least Bullet?"
His tone was kind, but the untouched first drink told the bartender that he wasn't pleased. "Actually, what kind of whiskey are you drinking," Apep suddenly asked Dana. "I don't drink often, so I want it to be good when I do." He looked to Dana, gold eyes sparkling. To Phoenix, he smiled something deeper, and there was a familiar nod of his head, as if to say, cousin.
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Weren’t a single opponent worth his time of day in the ring tonight. Not for fighting, and not for watching, neither. With no one making any fuss in the club proper, and nowhere for him to focus his energy, Jesse was wound up tighter than a three-day clock. It didn’t help matters none that he was suited up in his Sunday best. Still, he did clean up nice in all black, with the top few buttons of his dress shirt left undone beneath a blazer worn casually open. Being sober as a judge, though - that was a problem he reckoned he could fix.
With all of the swagger of a proud peacock, he beelined for the bar. He didn’t queue up and wait for service as he ought have. Nah, our Jess hadn’t the patience. Instead, he made his way behind, snatching up a glass along the way; like he owned the place. Pulling a bottle of Jim Beam from the well, the one Apep had just so pretentiously spurned, he poured himself a healthy measure - only to down it and pour again. His second glass he raised in salute to acknowledge the snake demon, lifting two fingers from the neck of the bottle to offer some semblance of a wave toward Phoenix.
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The tent with the vampires, of course! He should have placed her immediately, especially after the uproar her recent article had caused here in the club. She had some serious spunk to walk into a known northern pack hangout after accusing them all of being a bunch of housebroken, boot licking, lapdogs to a dark angel.
He clasped her offered hand within his own and shook it, glad to discover that although she appeared to be rather drunk, her grip remained firm and sure. There was nothing worse than shaking hands with a limp fish. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Phoenix and the winged ones name is Saraekiel.” He said with genuine warmth and welcome as he relinquished her hand, his eyes glimmered with amusement as he lifted his glass and saluted her. ”I remember you now, from the tent I mean. You wrote that recent article about the Northern wares and their relationship with said dark angel yeah? I found it very interesting and amusing, if a little miss informed.” He gave a little shrug of his shoulders and smiled teasingly. "Not that my opinion matters to you, I'm sure." The uproar her articale had caused here had also been amusing in the extreme. He was surprised Val or Saraekiel hadn’t hunted her down in the interim and dragged her out of her bed, where ever it may be; demanding answers and an explanation.
He took a sip of his drink, enjoying the unique aniseed flavor and alcohol burn as it swirled over his tongue and slid down his throat as he swallowed and wondered why he had suddenly thought about the whereabouts of her bed. “Still, if that is what you truly believe about the situation here in the north, why choose this gin joint to…” He was about to continue with 'drown your sorrows in?' when the Scarei intruded into their conversation. The demons smile and nod of familiarity had him raising an eyebrow in return as he caught and held the creatures golden gaze. He was a pretty demon, he would give him that, and his serpentine nature called to him, true; but there was no kinship between them if that was what he was inferring, nor was it excuse enough for his rude interruption.
Jesse's sudden appearance dragged his attention away from Apep for a moment and made him smile, although his attitude and self-service did not. The kid was looking for trouble, but the club wasn’t his to run nor was it his job to instruct the staff about proper protocols and job procedures. Marcus should be taking this into hand. He flicked his gaze to the bar tender and shook his head as he watched the guy turn a blind eye whilst pretending to search through the whiskey selections. “Oh buddy, you’re totally fucked!” He said, referring to both in warning and in resignation. Jesse loved to push the boundaries and Marcus will get slapped for letting this kind of behavour slide.
Phaedre watched the coming and going of her club from the comfort of the VIP section, enjoying how it kept her hidden from sight but allowed her to see all. She wore a sleek, black, silk Jovani evening gown that trailed to her ankles with a leg slit that stopped just shy of her ass and met with the diamond shaped, lace embroidered, peek-a-boo panels that followed up her sides and down her long, form fitting sleeves that ended at her wrists. Thinly strapped, black, high heels that criss-crossed up to her lower calves, and the gem encrusted, Eye of Medusa pendant that dangled between her cleavage, finished off the outfit.
Her brother seemed to be enjoying himself on the dance floor, but she was worried about him. At home they had their duties to keep them occupied and grounded, but here, she had the club to keep her busy, and Saraekiel; he on the other hand seemed to be slipping between the cracks. How long till he became seriously bored? Hanging out in the club all hours of the day was not good for him. She needed to find something for him to do, or someone, before he started to cause trouble simply for the fun of it. Maybe she should set him loose to play amongst the vampires like Saraekiel suggested.
She lost track of her brother when she noticed Apep slither in. She knew of the soul dealer who peddled drugs as a front for his main business. He had come to her attention when she had heard his name bounced around her club. She didn’t care what people did for their kicks and kinks, as long as they kept their shit out of her house. She narrowed her eyes in speculation as she tracked the scarei with her eyes and watched as he made his way to the bar, taking note of any and all he spoke to. So focused was she on him, she didn’t notice Jesse until he sauntered behind the counter like he owned the place and helped himself to her booze.
That fucking werewolf was a god damned thorn in her side; the proverbial pebble in her outrageously expensive fucking shoe. Her nose flared in irritation as he poured his drink and swallowed it. Jesse was likable enough, she supposed, but he respected nothing and no one he didn’t fear first, and the only one on that list so far was Val.
As Jess poured his second drink, she blinked herself to his side, a sensual smile curving the corner of her lips upwards like a bow, belying the wrath that filled her as she appeared at his side from out of nowhere.
“Why, hello Jesse” She crooned longingly to the were in greeting, ignoring everyone else at the bar for now. Her tone kept soft and seductive as she snatched the drink out of his hand before he even noticed it was gone, her other hand trailing up his arm and over his shoulder as she began to slowly circle him, her steps slow, sexy and totally predatory. “You look very dashing this evening. When does your shift start?” She asked, knowing full well he didn't have a shift tonight. Her hand trailed slowly up his neck and along his jawline, her hands making sure his face and attention was focused entirely on her.
She was pissed and so very fucking tired of the majority of the weres attitude towards her nightclub.
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Dana snorted indelicately. Phoenix had found her article a little misinformed? He was the misinformed one. She wasn’t like other ‘journalists’. She got references for abso-fucking-lutely everything she wrote, no matter how insignificant. Her first obligation was always to the truth. Her eyes narrowed to slits when he went further, insinuating that her analysis of the North was an opinion, not a fact. And he’d said every bit of it while smiling at her with that stupid smarmy smile and an amused glint in his eyes, like she was his fucking entertainment for the night.
She fought back the urge to throw what remained of her whiskey in his face the best way she could: she drank it. When she clunked the glass back to the bar counter, she opened her mouth to tell Phoenix at least half of what’d run through her mind, but her fellow smoker and whiskey drinker asked for her opinion on what to order, and she let loose a surprised burst of laughter instead. She twisted to face him again.
“I’m no cono… con-oh-sss—” Dana’s face fell. Words weren’t her friend tonight, were they? “I’m no expert. Jack’s good enough for me.” Before she could say more — like ask for that cigarette she’d been fiending for — two more people made an appearance. She recognized Phoneix’s sister from the carnival, and while she didn’t recognize the man, he was definitely part of the group, given how Phaedre rubbed herself all over him like… Well, like a snake. Which was appropriate, considering. Dana went to take another drink from her glass, but upon realizing it was empty, pushed herself up and reached over the counter to snatch the bottle of whiskey from Jesse’s slack hand.
"Jim does in a pinch, though." Dana smiled at the golden-eyed man before she topped herself off. “You with them?” she asked, setting the bottle to the side and glancing over her shoulder her at the trio.
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Apep gave Jesse a lazy salute and smile in greeting, enjoying that Jesse had taken the bottle he'd just spurned. Irony was a hateful one tonight. He didn't make any verbal greeting. Most people didn't like being seen chatting with their drug dealers. Apep instead turned to Marcus who'd filled his drink order. He paid and gave another good tip. If he was going to be particular at least he could be generous. Marcus seemed on good terms with him despite the change in order. It had made more money for the bar that way.
Apep felt Phadre's eyes on him, but made no moves to look at her. Let her stare. If she was bold she'd speak to him, and besides, he had Dana here to learn about. He liked her look, and was curious what had brought her here. Was their a customer waiting to be found? Apep looked fondly at Jesse as Dana asked if he was with them. No. He wasn't. They were customers or competition.
"We're associates," he replied, tone more casual than his businessmen answer. "I'm here to see my friend Butler fight, although he doesn't appear to be here yet. Can I buy you a drink?"
His offer sounded like a blend of physical interest and politeness, hard to probe for intention, but certainly charming. Apep was always a little charming, especially when he met new people.
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Trick and Harm walked around the building until there was an obvious door, but no bouncer stood at it. Further along the warehouse were a small group of people huddled together, speaking in low voices. Trick thought he could feel a bass pumping but he couldn't hear anything. The soundproofing was wild.
He pushed on the door they faced, anticipating that it would swing inward because there was no handle. It didn't move. He looked over at the small group when one of them laughed. As he watched, one of them smacked the other two in the arm or chest and then the lot of them were looking over, their expressions drenched in shadow.
"Fuck," Trick said softly to himself. With a fist he pounded on the door until a hole appeared in the middle of it and an eyeball stared at him. Music, like something out of an old-fashioned jukebox, wafted through that hole.
"Whaddya want?" a gruff voice asked.
"Phoenix invited me," Trick said, on the off chance that he would be believed.
"Yeah, right."
Trick approached the peephole. "Phoenix invited me after Jesse fixed my car. They know each other," he explained, hoping that both names together would have him believed. The eyeball left the hole and it was covered up. Trick looked at Harm apologetically and shrugged, stepping away from the door and turning away. The door opened and some weird 50s rock and roll music swamped them, halting Trick's motion. Surprised but pleased, Trick grabbed Harm's hand and pulled him in. He instinctively looked around for speakers, expecting the cloakroom they'd entered was playing different stuff from what the club proper had. He couldn't see anything like that but his attention was captured by an unusual request.
"Put your phones in here, you'll get them back when you leave," the bouncer said after the front door shut behind them.
"What? No," Trick looked at the open box offered them and frowned at it.
"We don't allow recordings to be made in the club. You should know why, fae," the gruffly spoken bouncer declared.
"My credit card is stored on my phone. How am I supposed to pay for drinks?" Trick challenged, talking loudly over the shitty music and wild eyed at having been outed, checking to see who was around who could've heard.
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Phoenix blinked as Dana ignored him for favour of the scarei. He was about to say something when he saw one of the bouncers wade through the milling crowd on the dance floor and wave at him, calling him forward. His eyes narrowed, why would they want him? He was neither bouncer nor manager of his sisters club. Curious he mumbled something near unintelligible and made his way towards the demon. "What?" he asked as the band finished their set and made way for the DJ. The few people left on the dance floor started clapping and pumping the air in appreciation as the incubus started playing around with his mixer. Soon the club was filled with the resounding beats of electronic dance music.
Phoenix followed the demon door man back to the cloak room and was pleasantly surprised to see Trick.
"Trick! You made it! Cool." he said with a broad smile as he approached Trick and his companion, his hand outstretched to shake the good looking supes hand.
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Trick had managed to create a full-blown argument by the time Phoenix was summoned. He and the door guy were trading arguments back and forth about the virtues of taking away phones. It was another staff person who'd signalled for Phoenix and when a familiar face entered the fray, Trick was momentarily silenced.
"Hi," he said after processing the dynamic shift caused by Phoenix's entrance. He clasped the other man's hand and shook it firmly. He looked from Phoenix to Harm after he shook it and thought it best to make an introduction. "This is Harm, my new boyfriend. We're here to check out your club but they want to take my phone!" His gaze moved rapidly from Harm back to Phoenix, the plea unspoken but apparent in his expression.
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Harm was standing behind Trick, watching events unfold with large blue eyes and a firmly closed mouth. He held his phone in his right hand because he'd been ready to hand it over when asked but he'd withdrawn it when Trick objected to the seizing of his device. As the debate continued, Harm's left arm crossed his body and he gripped his elbow in his left hand, feeling this club wasn't worth entering if Trick didn't like the rules. Harm hadn't liked the way the bouncer had sneered Trick's supernatural type, anyway; he completely sympathised with Trick's levels of offence.
At the sound of Trick's name, Harm looked beyond the doorway altercation at the speaker. The physical presence of the man caught his attention first, followed by his curly hair, then his friendly smile. He was pretty damn good looking. Harm's eyebrows lifted and he was amused that Trick hadn't bothered to mention just how hot the club owner was. There was no way he hadn't noticed it. And they'd met at the carnival Sunday, when Harm wasn't even on Trick's mind. Intriguing.
He grinned at Trick when he was introduced as his 'new' boyfriend, finding the specificity odd but endearing. When Trick then pressed his case for keeping his phone, Harm gave a little laugh. "Hi, Phoenix, right?" he queried, having put together all the information he'd received but still wishing for confirmation that he had the Adonis' name right. He dropped his crossed arm and stepped forward beside Trick, transferring his phone to his left hand so he could hold out his right to shake the club owner's hand. "Cool suit," he complimented with a smile.
-
The tension in the room was thick and heavy and Baz the big earth elemental was scowling with frustration at the back of Trick's head, which had Phoenix raising an eyebrow slightly at him in return. Trick seemed cool and he wanted to like him. Baz could go suck an egg. At Trick's words, however, he understood instantly and as much as he would have loved to ease the way by just allowing Trick his phone he knew such an action would have a snowball effect in no time, and he had every other patron's privacy and protection to think of.
The second blow was the mention of the new boyfriend, which caused his eyes to flash with disappointment briefly, he wasn't overly surprised, however; Trick was a very attractive and charismatic guy, his type didn't tend to stay single for long. Harm was a lucky man. At Harm's greeting he smiled warmly and took the good looking blond's hand in return. At the compliment he looked down at his white and black zoot suit (https://sep.yimg.com/ay/mydivascloset/zoot-suit-gangster-costume-for-men-19.jpg) with its matching shoes, running his hand down the front of him self-consciously. His sister said he looked like a pimp and common in it, but he liked it and it wasn't like he had asked her to wear it.
"Thank you, I like yours too and I like your name, it's different and unique." He was tempted to make some kind of wise crack but figured the guy probably got those on a daily basis. Yeah. "Welcome to Club Zero." As he shook Harm's hand he realized just how good looking he really was, those blue eyes of his promised nothing but trouble; full of mischief and fun. Maybe they could all have some fun sometime? He instantly thought as he let go of the blond's hand, his eyes glinting with amusement and a touch of heat at the thought.
"The fae wants to take his damned phone in."
At Baz's words Phoenix lifted his head and looked at the elemental, his eyes instantly hard and angry, he glided towards the bouncer, stepping between Trick and Harm, brushing his hands lightly over the pair's shoulders reassuringly as he passed the pair, every step turned sleek and predatory. Baz's eyes opened wide in fear as Phoenix grabbed and squeezed his lower face in his right hand, his eyes serpentine and merciless.
"How dare you out who and what someone is!" he hissed quietly in outraged fury. "Your job is to allow the appropriate people into the club and prevent any recording devices from them to assure our patrons' privacy and protection. What is the point of that if your just going to spout your fucking mouth off?" he asked rhetorically, his anger causing a couple of his curls to turn into snakes. They snapped and hissed in Baz's face before he released him and shoved the bouncer a back a little so he was out of his personal space. "Our patrons' privacy is sacrosanct. Break the rule of secrecy again and it will be your last day here." Turning his back on the bouncer her returned to Trick and Harm, his hair returning to their normal looking curls as he approached.
"I'm sorry Trick, he had no right, none whatsoever to out you. However, he is right. I can't allow you to take in your phones or smart watches or anything that can record stuff or take pictures. There is a good reason and if you will allow me to have them, I will store them in my personal locker and give you the key so you can just get them when you want to leave. Your drinks and anything else you might want will naturally be on me tonight, cause you know. You're both my VIP quests for the night," he said as an eager smile curled the corners of his mouth upwards. "I really want you both to have some fun and enjoy the club." With me, he wanted to add but once again he didn't want to impose and crash other people's party. Maybe he could get to hang out some other time.
-
Trick had been looking for Phoenix's reaction to Harm being his new boyfriend and saw it come and go. When Phoenix and Harm shook hands, Trick did a rapid swipe of his hair and then messed with it before lowering his hand and smiling at Phoenix again. The bouncer behind Trick weighed in once more, repeating the essence of what Trick himself had said.
He turned and watched as Phoenix had a go at his staff member. Trick watched avidly. The snakes weren't obvious because of the angle that he stood, but because he was watching closely he didn't miss them either. His eyes were wide when Phoenix addressed him again, the long explanation one that eventually had Trick brimming with pleasure.
"Okay, cool. Thank you," he said, nodding and smiling. He held his phone out to Phoenix as he had on the day they'd met.
-
Jess paid no mind to Phoenix’s warning of, “Oh buddy, you’re totally fucked!” Weren’t even enough cares in him to offer up a shrug to convey his dismissal. He reckoned he didn’t need to, anycase. It would come across just fine all on its own. Let him be ‘fucked.’ Hell, he might even like it.
Just as he was fixin’ to swallow down his second glass, the queen bitch turned up with his promised fucking – snatching the glass from his hand and orbiting him like some come-hither tyrant bent on gettin’ on every single one of his last nerves. Gone were the nights of having enough rope to get away with near about anything but murder. Felt like his damned leash just kept tightening.
“Well, hey there, puddin’-pie,” he drawled slow and cool, layin’ the southern honey on thick. “Ain’t you precious, comin’ by to check in on me – but don’t you worry your pretty little head none, I ain’t got a shift tonight.”
When Phaedre’s tour of him came full-circle, Jesse lowered the bottle of whiskey to his side and a little back, adjusting his hold so that the neck sat cradled loose between his index and middle finger. He was of a mind to make off with it, but someone else had cut him to the chase. His attempt to glare at whoever’d robbed him of his potential good-time was thwarted by Phaedre’s caressing hands on his jaw; so, instead, his scowl was aimed at her.
-
Harm had watched the whole scene with Phoenix and the bouncer play out with wide eyes and cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Part of him couldn't understand how Trick had been so comfortable, with confrontation like this playing out in front of him - or even stoking it, as he had at dinner with Harm's family. Another part of him was glad that the bouncer was chastised for his rude behaviours. He'd blinked when he'd seen Phoenix's hair turn into snakes. He didn't know for sure what they meant, though the legend of Medusa came to mind. Could he actually be... ?
Bewildered, he gave Phoenix a shy smile and held his phone out, too, not wanting to head to some VIP area and sit around drinking when the beat of the music pounding around them had changed so deliciously. It reverberated in his chest, the noise filtering through the inner doors had Harm desiring sweeping Trick into the throng and pressing their hot bodies slickly against one another while they sloughed the last few hours from their skins. His free hand found Trick's again, squeezing hopefully (when what he really wanted was to grab and tug him to wherever the dance floor was immediately).
-
Phoenix accepted their phones and after putting them in his locker and giving Trick the key he led the pair to the main club, the music pumping through them as soon as he opened the door, the supernaturals therein all out and proud and on full display.
"This is why no phones," Phoenix half shout whispered to Trick as a fae flitted past them heading towards the dance floor, their luminescent wings leaving a cloud of shimmering sparkles in their wake. "Welcome to Club Zero," he said amusedly as he followed the fae with his eyes.
**
Pudin'-pie? Precious? Who the fuck did this guy think he was? Rage burned coldly through Phaedre. The only outward sign of her anger, however, was a slow, cruel smile curving her lips upwards like a blade. So focused was she on the little upstart werewolf's face, that she missed the passing of the bottle.
"Oh my sweet, sweet child," she said softly as snakes formed slowly out of her hair, the long curls spilling and thickening into glowing eyed writhing, hissing basilisks. "What a watery bowl of gumbo you are." She tugged at his lower lip with the tip of her thumb, her nail cutting through the tender flesh enough to cause a beading of blood to form as she gripped his face and lower jaw with her hand, holding him in place but not squeezing him, yet.. "Is there anything else you would like to say?" she asked, her eyes serpent cold and slitted.
-
Trick nodded and shrugged like it didn't matter about his phone, as if he hadn't argued with the bouncer at the door over it. When he looked over his shoulder at Harm he grinned and squeezed his hand, gesturing with his head at the pulsing, dancing bodies on the floor. He cast a wary gaze over the stage where the band had vacated, but there was no sign declaring the band was coming back.
Phoenix caught his attention again and Trick grinned at him, looking like he wanted to say something but he licked his lips and replied with only one word instead.
"Thanks!" Trick replied loudly.
-
Phoenix's stomach dropped with envy at the smile Trick gave Harm, not that he was jealous exactly, he hardly knew Trick, rather his feelings stemmed from their closeness, their togetherness. His life had been about serving and duty for so long he couldn't even remember the last time he had had that kind of connection to someone.
"C'mon" he said to the pair with a half-smile. "Let's get you two you're VIP badges and then set you up in the VIP area. Then you can both cut loose and get your party on"
He doubted Phaedre would give him a hard time about admitting Trick and Harm in as VIP's, well she normally wouldn't but Jesse had certainly gotten her into a mood tonight. Thinking of which, he looked towards the bar and seeing Phaedre going all Medusa on Jesse ass he quickly changed his mind about getting those badges right now and turned to Trick and Harm with a bright smile, a slightly panicked look in his eyes.
"On second thought lets get our dance on!" he said as he led the way onto the dance floor.
-
Dana narrowed her eyes at Apep, but that was as far as she got into her typical line of questioning. Her brain was drenched with whiskey, and the best she could do was hang onto the word 'associates' as she floated past every other question she might've been able to ask to gain better understanding of the situation.
"Oh, okay. You know them but don't know them," she said, nodding exaggeratedly to express her understanding. Then she glanced down at her stolen whiskey bottle and the filled-to-the brim glass next to it. She smiled smugly at the man. "I think I'm good for now." For the first time that night, she didn't immediately lift her drink to her lips after speaking. She twisted and dragged it back and forth, leaving behind a vague, circle-shaped smear of amber liquid on the counter.
"What you could do," she continued, leaning close to the man that wasn't just a man judging by his eyes alone, to be heard over the sudden shift in music that vibrated through her insides and threatened to shake everything loose. "Is give me a cigarette if you've got one to spare."
-
Apep matched Dana's smug smile, raising his own drink delicately to his lips, before placing it down on the counter gingerly. The request for a smoke was seen by the Scarei as an opportunity to get Dana alone. People were far more susceptible to temptation when alone. What did Apep want with Dana? He didn't know. He saw the potential of someone who was drinking their sorrows away, and wondered, what can I make of this?
His dexterous fingers entered his jacket pocket, pulling out a pack of Red Apple cigarettes. He pulled out two, one for Dana, and the other for him. "I just about needed another one myself," he said as he handed it over. "And yeah, I know them but don't really know them, ya know?"
"Apep," he introduced, even though he wasn't asked. "And your name is?"
And what can I sell you, was the unspoken second half of his statement. His golden eyes twinkled as he spoke.
-
The sparkly-winged creature following straight on from Phoenix's mythical hair style had Harm looking everywhere the instant they were let into the club proper. He almost forgot to walk when he spied a waiter heading for the bar carrying an empty tray - thankfully, his connection to Trick's hand helped keep him moving - because of the outfit (https://i.pinimg.com/originals/f9/13/28/f913280d288d0c0e954050922cf1c079.jpg) the waiter was wearing; combat boots, fishnets, a strappy leather codpiece, arm straps and football shoulder pads had Harm questioning his life choices. Maybe he should've been more willing to attend Quentin's football games growing up after all.
As Phoenix came to a stop to talk to them again, Harm realised that all the waitstaff were dressed in fetish gear. He barely paid attention to Phoenix's words as he gawked at latex and leather, straps and mesh, tight abs and bulging pecs for days. There were generous breasts accompanying female asses too but he had zero interest in those, beyond the aesthetics of their appearance. The guys drew his intrigued gaze against his will. He knew he shouldn't stare but he'd never been in a place so hedonistic. All the patrons were dressed in such a refined manner as to appear completely overdressed by comparison. He got it, though, the dichotomy. It was a sexy juxtaposition that he dug.
Harm followed Phoenix's gaze to the bar, noting some sort of fracas behind it and a guy with reptilian eyes not too far from them. He only held Harm's interest for a second, the woman sitting nearby was much more intriguing because she looked normal. Like him. Another human? It pleased him to think he wasn't the only one in the club, though he was suspicious because she appeared to be on her own and he'd been given the impression that he was only getting in because he was with Trick. The angle the woman was canted at told Harm she was very drunk and she appeared to still be drinking. His lips thinned in disapproval but then Phoenix was urging them to dance and he was distracted once more.
They followed Phoenix onto the dance floor, which appeared to be the most brightly-lit space in the shadowy club. Harm wondered what secretive things were happening in the places where the light didn't fully reach because he could see seating and all sort of nooks. He knew exactly what he'd get up to, if he got Trick into one of those and it made his body tingle. It seemed his imagination had been robustly fed by the views around them, not to mention their pretty host and his delectable boyfriend himself. The music felt like it was connecting his heart to his groin in the most delicious way as they made a sort of triangle and began dancing.
Harm was almost immediately dying of heat exhaustion so he peeled his jacket off, his body undulating to the thumping beat as he nimbly threaded his sleeves between his belt and the waistband of his pants, at his hips, yanking the cuffs down as far as they would go. His jacket hugged his ass, looking like a skirt extension behind him but he didn't care. The black tee he wore was thin and much cooler, though he strongly suspected it'd be plastered to his svelte body in no time. He rolled the sleeves up over his shoulders out of habit, his muscles toned and taut but nowhere near as large as Trick's.
He grinned at his boyfriend, feeling it reflected in his eyes, watching his beautiful figure embody the rhythm perfectly. Harm tended to dance from his hips first, involving his arms to emphasise the rising and falling melody lines while his lower half punctuated the beat. He made eye contact with Phoenix and smiled at him, admiring his form, but his gaze was always drawn back to Trick, his body angling and winding in his direction so that Harm could touch him, steal occasional kisses and dance up against him. Harm closed his eyes and simply allowed the music to pour through him at other times, feeling it enliven every cell in his being after it had stripped away the tainted ones left inside him at dinner.
Although he hadn't been sure it would happen, Harm was having fun, carried away on deafening trills and pounding beats that his heart automatically echoed. He ran his hand through his hair, the heat of the bodies pressing around them ruining his styling anyway. His skin glistened with sweat but he moved closer to Trick anyway, inserting himself between him and Phoenix so he could drape himself against his boyfriend, winding his arms up around his neck and grinding back on him.
-
Trick lost himself in the music. He used his whole body to dance but there was restraint in his stepping. He didn't move too far from the circle the three of them made. A more recogniseable song can on, luring more bodies onto the dance floor who were less concerned about bumping into others. Trick moved to Harm and Phoenix, grinning at his boyfriend as he ground into him and paying him attention before dancing alongside Phoenix, mimicking his moves.
Eight shifts of beats later and Trick signalled to Harm and Phoenix that he was after a drink. "I need water," he said loudly towards Phoenix.
-
If Jesse’d been a mite smarter, he might’ve suggested that he’d only be in the way if he were turned to stone in his current position behind the bar; more of an obstacle for Phaedre’s on-the-clock workers than an example. Sadly, if our lad’s brains were leather, there wouldn’t be enough to saddle a junebug. Instead, all he offered up in response was a dismissive, “Naw.”
-
She stared into his eyes, waiting for him to say something, anything stupid, to push her that one inch more but he gave her nothing as he stood there staring back at her with his perpetual half smirk. He was the worst of the pack, he walked around like he owned the place, acted like it was his or his packs, she should just turn him to stone, make an example of him but she knew by the emptiness in his eyes that leaving as stone for a few days would achieve nothing, change nothing.
“You act like this is your club because I allow you to work and fight here, but this is my club Jesse, not the packs. My business partner is my Godmother and your alpha’s seconds in command, not your fucking alpha.” She said succulently, her Ancient Greek heritage coming out through her lilting and almost melodic accent as she spoke to the foolish were through her smile. “So, understand. Disrespect me or this place again and you will never see the light of day or feel the wind on your face again.” She searched his eyes, looking for any hint that he understood just how serious she was. “There are no more chances for you here Jesse.” She said with finality as she released his face from her grip with a small shove, pushing him away from her. “Now get the fuck out from behind my bar.”
She turned her attention away from the moronic werewolf and on the people at the bar, noticing for the first time the woman with the purloined bottle of bourbon sitting beside Apep and his rejected drink. “Problem?” she asked the snake demon with a slightly raised eyebrow as she held her hand out towards Dana, silently demanding the return of the bottle.
Phoenix danced with Trick and Harm, forgetting for a few moments his restless loneliness as he lost himself to the music, his body and hips undulating, his movements almost serpentine and hypnotic as he sensually moved in-time with them as the beat pumping through him, he danced with one or the other or both as they demanded and or wanted, glad that they were having fun. He smiled as harm stripped off his jacket and tied it around himself before rolling up his sleeves before totally loosing himself to the music and his dancing, he couldn’t keep his eyes off either of them as the moved around and with him.
He felt more relaxed that he could remember as the music changed, and more people poured onto the dance floor. “What ever either of you want” He said almost suggestively as he led them off the dance floor and towards the bar. “Do you want water as well Harm” He asked as he started to go behind the bar.
-
No more than five seconds had passed since Dana had requested a cigarette from Apep, but when one appeared in front of her face she lit up as if he’d read her mind and summoned it by magic. Dana's look of amazement shifted to one of gratitude as she accepted it and brought it close to her nose, savoring the sweet earthy scent of tobacco — nothing like the cloying smoke smell that she’d picked up on Apep when he’d first sat down next to her.
"Thanks, Apep. I’m Dana," she said, still holding the cigarette like a mustache above her lip. One final, appreciative sniff and she lowered it to tap it filter down on a dry part of the counter, packing the tobacco.
If she could’ve lit up there, she would’ve, but even in her muddled state, she knew better. Supernatural or not, she didn’t doubt she’d get thrown out and wouldn’t be allowed back in if she started smoking in the club. What she didn't know, however, was that she’d caught the attention of the club owner for what might be an equally punishable act.
When she first saw Phaedre’s outstretched hand and expectant look, Dana blinked slowly, not immediately realizing what she wanted. Then she brightened and tucked her cigarette behind her ear, making it so she could slide her hand over the gorgon’s and squeeze it in a poor imitation of a handshake.
"You’re really pretty," she said, speaking in the gap between Phaedre's question for Apep and his answer. The woman was so striking and poised. She would’ve been better off sitting and admiring her, not trying to strike up a fucking conversation -- at least until she could shake her brain free of whiskey and could manage the subtlety and nuance she deserved.
It was too late now, though. All she could do was smile sloppily and hope for the best.
-
Apep lazily moved his gaze to the female gorgon. She was pretty, but so were most of her kind as far as Apep knew. He thought it odd she was sticking her nose in his request for a different kind of liquor. After all, if the dress code was nice shouldn't the drinks have been equally nice? He saw the bottle of cheap shit Dana and Jesse were so obsessed with, and looked back to the woman who'd decided to grill him.
"None, unless you've brought one with you," he said, tongue and cheek enough to be passed off as a joke. "I simply wasn't specific enough the first time I ordered. I paid for both drinks if that's the issue."
He almost added, I can make your shit bar that pretends to be chic less money, if you like, but instead just beamed a helpful smile. "I'm Apep, and this is my friend Dana," he said introducing the reporter. "We just met, and she thinks you're really pretty."
-
When Phoenix immediately complied with Trick's request and headed off the dancefloor, Harm was startled enough to grab Trick's hand and chase after him. Not wanting to lose the owner in the crowd, Harm grabbed the back of his long jacket so that he and Trick could wind their way out of the throng in his wake. Phoenix was impressive at managing to part a sea of hot, writhing bodies and his spontaneous little conga line made it to the bar in no time.
"Yes, please!" Harm answered, releasing his hold on Phoenix's back when it became clear the bar would be a barrier. He moved towards the woman he'd noticed earlier, mildly concerned about her state of inebriation but mostly interested in seeing if he could find out if she was human or not. He arrived at his place - on her other side to the guy with the curious (and fascinating) eyes - and slapped it with his free hand as he bumped up against it. He arrived just as Apep introduced he and Dana and came onto the fierce bitch behind the bar.
Harm remained standing, leaning on the bar and uncertain whether he should stay where he was (crowded closer to Dana than he should be because he was leaving the stool for Trick to climb onto if he wanted) or move. With names being tossed around, he was suddenly invested in a conversation that was none of his business, watching them all surreptitiously from beneath his brows, relying on their involvement with one another to allow him to go unnoticed. He was curious how the bar bitch would take the come-on.
-
Trick followed Harm through the mass of bodies. The weekend carnival had sprung to life in this pocket of a building, cramming as many people in as it could. Instead of compact dirt, tufts of grass, tents and rides, there were floorboards, support beams, stages and bars. The supe presence was the same but Trick couldn't see any vamps here. They had their own club.
Harm's hand was hot and clammy but Trick didn't drop it. He held on tight until they arrived at the bar and then their hands parted as Trick took the stool after Harm ignored it in favour of squashing himself up against a woman seated on the one beside. When Trick was handed his water he downed it in several consecutive gulps and by the time the glass hit the counter it was empty. "Another?" he ask-shouted at Phoenix, who looked fine behind the counter serving drinks.
Trick looked at Harm, then at the woman past him who was staring at the female bartender before he caught sight of someone familiar.
"Jesse! Hey!" Trick performed a wave salute then spoke close to Harm's ear. "Jesse was the guy who fixed my car." At the very least he was the guy who'd put a band-aid on it and told Trick to get some parts before his car failed again.
-
Fuck your chances. The way he saw it, he wasn’t disrespecting no one. If anything, he was savin’ her bartenders the trouble of having to serve up to anyone who weren’t a real customer.
After expelling an irritated puff of air from his nostrils, Jesse complied by way of stepping out from behind the bar. That woman was aggravating as a rock. It was likely she could argue with a fence post. Her warning wasn’t enough to deter Jess from taking advantage of her current distraction and snagging up another bottle of something random on his way out; whatever it was, he held it not-so-inconspicuously within the open front of his blazer.
When came the enthusiastic call of his name, Jesse slowed his pace. His focus snapped toward Trick, snagging momentarily upon the blonde fella at his side. “Well, I’ll be,” he drawled, slow and cool, as he came to a stop near enough to avoid shouting, “Didn’t think you’d actually come.” Titivatin’ aside, our Jess looked heaps better without a bruise beneath his eye.
-
Phaedre turned towards Dana as she grabbed her hand instead of putting the bottle in it and raised an eyebrow slightly at her. She was cute, drunk as a skunk true, but cute none the less in a austere looking way, those eyes of hers however were stunning, even bloodshot as they were. Phaedre smiled, the corners turning upwards until her smile was full and filled with genuine warmth as she shook Dana's offered hand. "Thank you." She studied Dana, her eyes traveling over her, taking note, seeing her. "So are you, black certainly suits you." It was a shame she was so drunk, Phaedre doubted she would even remember them meeting come morning. A pity, still, Dana had eradicated the foul mood Jesse had put her in and she decided to let the purloined bottle still in Dana's hands slide as she withdrew her hand from hers and turned her attention back to Apep.
She looked at him then then down at his untouched glass then back at him and smiled sharply. She knew of his reputation but more she had heard rumours of his shop dealing in magical items. She picked up his glass and tipped its contents down the sink before turning and grabbing two clean scotch glasses from the top of the shelf, the crystal gleaming with retracted light as she put them before him. She then moved over to where Marcus was she took a key from out of a drawer and used it to unlock a panel in the wall. The space behind was small and contained three short shelves few shelves, each shelf was lined with what looked like a collection of very select bottles. Phaedre ran her fingers over a few before selecting two and returned to Apep.
The first bottle she opened had the name Aberlour written on it with the number 19 under a few other words too small to be made out. She poured a good measure into one of Apep's glass and waited for him to take a sip with a raised eyebrow. If sniffed the pale golden liquor would give off a rich fruity aroma of ripe oranges and raspberry jam, syrup plums and a hint of warming spice ginger. Its palate when sipped would be round and complex with teasing taste of mandarin and orange marmalade with a touch of aniseed and ripe figs to follow, finished off with a hint of rich dark chocolate and cloves for an added touch of depth.
The second glass she splashed in a slightly darker, amber coloured liquid. The bottle for this one read Laphroaig and had 30 years written underneath it . It had a tantalizing earthy smokey flavour to it that enveloped the taster from nose to finish.with hints of vanilla, seaweed and grill smoke. It was heady and slipped down the throat like silken fire, leaving the tongue dancing with a complex and rich after taste.
"Two of my favourites." She said as she re-corked the bottles and carefully placed them out of reach of both Dana and Jesse; the later forgotten as she grabbed a couple of VIP passes for Phoenix and gave them to him. She was curious about his guests and had every intention of quizing him about them later, for now she just gave them a friendly smile. "Welcome to Club Zero gentlemen. I'm sure Phoenix and my staff will take very good care of you, as VIP's your night is on us."
Phoenix smiled as Trick called out for a second drink, he quickly grabbed two bottles of water from the drinks fridge and filled two glasses, adding some ice and a couple of thin lemon slices to the mix before placing the glasses in front of Trick and Harm with a broad smile and a saucy wink. As Jesse sauntered past however he noticed the were swipe the bottle even if his sister didn't and frowned at him. He waited for him to greet Trick and Harm before moving causally up to him.
"What the fuck Jesse." he said just loudly enough to be heard but not loudly enough for his words to travel beyond the four of them. "She will kill you."
-
"Thanks," Trick said to Phoenix, but as soon as the water was in front of him, he wrinkled his nose and reached into the glass with his thumb and index finger to pluck the lemon out. He dumped it immediately into Harm's glass beside his and gave a pinched smile of someone who knows they've been naughty before his eyes travelled back to Jesse.
-
Phaedre thought she was pretty? She did, she’d said it, hadn’t she? And she’d liked her pantsuit. Her investment of a couple months worth of wages was finally paying off. She'd netted the attention of a woman who probably wouldn’t have spared her a second glance on a normal day.
Dana’s sloppy smile dripped off her face and her arm fell limp onto the counter when her hand was released and Phaedre shifted her attention to Apep. What was she even doing? Squinting and willing two overlapping images of the gorgon to transfer into one didn’t work, so she closed her eyes tight and willed it harder. The darkness swirled and she opened her eyes again. Everything kept on swirling. Fuck, she'd skipped straight from buzzed to the spins, hadn’t she?
It was time to take a break. Get some air. Maybe puke. Her stomach lurched. Probably puke. Rally. Do it again.
Dana leaned forward to get up, causing her cigarette to fall from behind her ear onto the counter. She paused to stare blearily at it.
"Get back here," she muttered, reaching out to reclaim her gift. All she did was knock her fingers into it and send the thing rolling off the counter and onto the floor. Curses flew freely as she twisted and turned and craned her head, searching the floor for her cherished white tube packed with happiness. When she finally spotted the cigarette under Apep's stool, she slid off her seat and stood swayingly and looked out on a club that rocked back and forth and oh fucking hell, this was not a boat she wanted to be on.
She attempted to take a step but all she managed was a muted curse before her legs went out from under her.
-
Once Trick climbed onto the stool he'd left vacant, Harm moved between his splayed legs, resting his weight against one of Trick's muscular thighs but not crowding him because he was too fucking hot for that. He really wanted to just tear his shirt off entirely and tuck that in his back pocket as well. He could see his face in the mirror behind the bar as he gulped his water down; his fair skin was flushed pink and shiny with a sheen of sweat, his eyes a bright green with little blue visible in his excitement. He kinda looked like he'd been having sex. His hair had surprisingly kept its volume and was still arched artfully upon his head; he fussed with it a little before he put his empty glass down on the bar and listened to Phoenix warn someone 'she' was going to kill them.
Instinctively, he leant towards Trick when he spoke about the mechanic, finding the guy with his gaze as he stopped just behind them. He realised that this was who Phoenix had been looking at, too, and wondered why Jesse's death was imminent. In the meantime, he'd picked up his second drink, squeezing the extra lemon slice Trick had gifted him into his water happily. Harm smiled at Jesse when he felt his gaze upon him, turning around and positioning himself so that Trick's knee was pressing into his stomach but he had freedom to swivel if he wanted. Jesse the Mechanic had beautiful eyes and his eyelashes were almost as pretty as Trick's, Harm thought. He contemplated reaching a hand out to introduce himself but Jesse had spoken to Trick, not him, so he didn't want to interrupt them.
A flurry of movement to his other side suddenly caught Harm's attention and he watched in horror as Dana the drunk woman stood, swayed and then pitched towards open space. Harm slammed his water glass on the bar without looking at it and dived to help. He'd stopped watching her when Jesse appeared and he regretted that immensely, as the woman fell much too quickly. Harm had to get past Trick's leg, weave around Dana's stool and get his arms under her in the space of very few seconds. A chivalrous instinct in his brain told him he wasn't going to make it and that she was about to get hurt so, in a panic, he more or less threw himself between Dana and the floor, hoping to cushion her fall.
When her face planted in his chest and he managed to get his hands on both her upper arms cleanly, Harm beamed, extremely proud of himself (even though neither of them had hit the floor gracefully by any stretch of the imagination). His face shifted from a grin to a wince in the next heartbeat as his body registered exactly which of his sharp joints had contacted the floor when he saved Dana. It felt like pretty much all of them. He exhaled slowly as they all began to sting and scream simultaneously then tried to focus on his rescue... victim?
"Are you okay?" he asked her worriedly, his voice fuelled by adrenaline and no doubt too loud but he wanted to be sure she heard him. He anticipated that the alcohol had dulled her senses quite a bit by now and he was also competing with the music. Not surprisingly, conversations around them had stilled, however. He looked down at her, hoping she didn't vomit on him. That would be a fucking grand end to his night.
-
When Phaedre tossed the contents of his glass, Apep raised a suspicious eyebrow. He assumed he'd be thrown out for insulting the bar, or that Phaedre was smarter than she looked and knew what he'd been soliciting in her bar. He was pleasantly surprised when she returned with two top shelf spirits. His suspicious brow rose further, with only his wry grin unchanging. This stuff was not cheap, and she had seemed more interested in him tasting her top stock than charging him for it. He smiled and nodded thankfully wrapping his lips around the first glass after taking in a deep whiff. Fruity. It was a bit too fruity for Apep's tastes, but he liked it more when he sampled it. The more bitter chocolate was a good offset to the sweetness, creating something complex. The second was more Apep's style. He visibly reacted to the second, loving the way it burned as it went down his throat. The more earthly flavors also made it a favorite.
"Both are excellent," he complimented. "The second is more me."
Truth was an interesting thing to give in tiny amounts. He'd told the truth, but about something meaningless. Apep had discovered people always felt more comfortable if they thought they knew him. He decided it would be interesting to explore what Phaedre wanted from him, but doubted that could happen here.
"Come to the Ouroboros sometime soon," he asked. "I'll be sure to share my best with you." He hadn't said best liquor, because his establishment offered something much more satisfying, and dangerous. "And thank you, for the drinks." It was as genuine as Apep was capable of being.
As he finished, Dana took a tumble. Apep was closer than Harm, and thought for a moment about intervening. He was quick, flexible and knew it could score points with her, but he watched as her knight in shining stupidity threw himself like a rag doll under her. He was cute, and the boy he was with was even cuter. Apep turned to Phaedre. "Perhaps Dana needs a glass of water."
He changed his eyes back to his normal human brown, and offered his hand to both Dana and Harm to help them up. "Dana, why don't you have some water, and then we get some fresh air. I'll give you a fresh cigarette. What do you say?"
His tone was helpful, concerned, and caring. Fresh air, water and smokes were a way to help her become less drunk, and more importantly, get her alone.
-
He'd opened his mouth to introduce Harm to Jesse but that was sidelined by the flurry of movement that followed. Trick hadn't noticed what was happening until Harm slammed his glass down and knocked Trick's leg aside lunging for the drunk lady. As he watched it looked like his boyfriend had tried to set the woman right but she'd taken him down with her. His eyes widened, his eyebrows rose and his mouth opened as he was knocked partially off his stool and witnessed reaching limbs clawing at empty air.
There was a moment of silence filled in only by the music as everyone watched the pair land. Trick stepped off his stool to help just as his stomach spasmed and clenched. His cheeks filled up before he snorted laughter, bursts of amused air escaping his cheeks as he was obviously trying to hold it in unsuccessfully.
The guy still sitting on the stool watching the two on the floor made a suggestion that caught Trick's attention.
"Yeah, give her a cigarette to go with her fresh air, dumbass," he said to the guy before bending over to help pull Dana to her feet. His muscles came in handy to pull her up. She was sturdier than she looked, this woman. He wrapped her left arm around his shoulders and held her hand there with his left hand, while his right gripped her tightly around the waist. "Let's take her outside. You okay?" he asked Harm, who was now free to get himself up off the floor. Trick couldn't spare him a hand as they were full.
-
Apep decided to abandon this conversation, and Dana with it. People had stared, and now he had a loud neanderthal drawing attention to him and making it look like he'd somehow contributed to Dan's tumble. Apep didn't understand what he'd said to earn such an intervention. Dana had wanted a cigarette. He'd provided one. Many people went outside at bars and smoked, and nicotine was a stimulant. It might've helped with Dana's intoxication, along with the cold. Still, why pursue a hard mark, when an easy one was bound to come along? Jesse had walked right in. He made himself look confused, and dangled a cigarette from his own mouth.
Apep shrugged at Trick, turning back to the bar mistress, and taking a sip from the excellent cocktail she'd prepared him. He assumed Dana would return another night to this watering hole, and he'd make sure to be there. He let his eyes resume their serpentine gold, and leaned in to speak to Phaedre.
"Some people; am I right?" He said it as calm as a clear day. "I hope Dana get's home alright," he added, giving a wonderful performance of empathy.
-
It was nothing short of a miracle, but Dana didn’t puke. Her stomach was all the fuck over the place throughout the whole fiasco of going ass over teakettle, landing on some guy, and getting picked up by some other guy, but she kept everything down. It probably helped the last thing she’d had to eat was a… Her entire face scrunched as she searched her memory but got mired in the muddy molasses that kept her there, hanging suspended in the air by sunflower seeds. She’d eaten sunflower seeds. She sucked on a tooth. Pretty sure one was still stuck there.
Dana registered a deep voice coming from next to and above her, real close, like she had her arm around his shoulder and he had a hand clamped on her waist. With her head rigidly set forward because that’s what kept the world from flipping over on her, she glanced from right to left, lips pursing when she determined that she was, in fact, being held up by some guy. Some random guy. And there was talk of water and outside and—
"Look, I’m fine. You can let me go," she said in the exaggeratedly deliberate way one did when they didn’t want to be caught slurring. It didn’t work. "Just…" She peered at the guy that’d lost the fight with gravity right along with her. "You should get off the floor," she said. "It’s not… You don’t know what all's down there." She giggled. "'Cept maybe you do 'cause you're down there."
Her expression grew serious. "But you shouldn’t be. It’s gross."
-
Phaedra's lips twitched as she watched her patrons tumble to the floor amidst a flurry of arms and legs, she didn't trust Apeps act of gallantry, she knew what he was even if those around them didn't and she felt a sense of relief when Phoenix's friends offered to escort her outside instead. As they talked amongst themselves she grabbed a bottle of water and passed it to Phoenix, indicating with her head and her eyes that she wanted him to go with them. "See her home safely little brother." she said quietly to him before turning her attention to Apep.
"Totally right, little gold eyes." She said, mirroring his saccharine sweet tone. "Dana will be fine, don't worry. This is Club Zero, there is no danger here unless you come looking for it." She smiled sharply at the snake demon as she leaned over the counter slightly so that they could talk without being overheard or needing to shout. " "It's illegal to hunt other supernaturals in the North." She said conversationally, her tone warm and friendly as she picked up the glass containing the whisky Apep didn't like and took a sip from it. "My club especially is off limits." She stretched out across the counter and plucked Apeps cigs from out of his jacket pocket and helped herself to one. "Light?" she asked him with a raised eyebrow as she passed the packet back to him.
Phoenix shook his head at both Dana and Harm as he took the water and the VIP cards from his sister, the cards he would hand over as the took Dana outside and hoped Trick and Harm would come back into the club and take advantage of them before they left for the night. He moved around Trick and the very drunk Dana with a warm smile of amusement and held his hand out towards Harm, offering to help him if he wanted it.. " I think a little air sounds great."
-
At first, Harm's gaze was dragged up towards Trick, giving him an expression that said, 'Really?' because the fucker actually laughed at his graceless (but heroic, goddamnit!) rescue of Dana. But then Trick was being all gruff and sexy and gallant as he hauled Dana up and he did ask if he was okay - to which Harm nodded because he was pretty sure he was, his pride was wounded more than anything - which softened the blow to his ego.
Words flowed over him as he looked along his body in order to figure out how to disentangle himself from his awkward position around a stool and he laughed at Dana's concern that he was on the floor. Maybe she was some sort of germaphobe. That only made him feel more proud of himself, because if he hadn't put himself between the floor and her, she'd have been having his exact problem but it would've freaked her out way more than it did him.
In the end, he took Phoenix's hand with a smile and popped up into a standing position like he'd just been performing an extravagant dance move, bumping against the club owner's chest as he did. He let go of Phoenix and ran a hand through his sweaty hair, tilting his head at the owner, wondering how he'd got around the long bar so fucking fast. "Thanks, man," he enthused and then looked at Dana thoughtfully. "And some water," he announced, weaving towards the bar to reclaim the full glass he'd left there and give it to her.
The water was more important than the air, in his professional opinion, but he wouldn't object to going outside. He was fucking hot and fresh air would benefit all of them.
-
Trick didn't react to the guy at the bar who couldn't even be bothered to get up off his ass. He also didn't react to the drunk woman's protests that she was fine, other than to turn his head away from her mouth when she talked. She was a walking target for creeps.
Trick watched as Harm took Phoenix's hand before the glass of water was grabbed. "Can you bring us a bottle of water once we're outside?" He spoke loudly to the club owner to get his voice to carry over the deep quality of the bass drops. Once they were all on their feet, he walked the drunk woman back to the door, getting Harm to grab both their phones on the way out.
Once they were outside he looked for somewhere to put her and saw a bus-stop shelter a little further down the street on their side of the road. He headed there, asking questions all the way. What was her name? Did she have a friend to call? Did she want them to take her home? Would she prefer an Uber?
-
"Are you a reporter?" Dana asked the man that'd dragged her outside in a sing-songy voice. "If you're not, you should. You should def... Yeah, you should do it. You... You ask a lot of questions and you're really per- persisss..." She scoffed and pushed the water back at him. "You keep putting that in my face. Do you want me to piss myself?" She'd had at least three sips that she remembered, what more did he want?
Dana didn't get to ask, though, because they reached the bus shelter and she had to frown at it.
"But I didn't take the bus," she said slowly, squinting at the row of lights that illuminated the underside of the curved roof. "I—" She froze, eyes widening, and ran the flat of her palm over her chest. She didn't encounter the usual thick leather strap of her messenger satchel. "Those... Those assholes," she spluttered. "They took my shit!"
Setting her jaw stubbornly, she began to pull the opposite direction of the man, fully intending to march back to the club and retrieve her shit.
-
Harm was briefly cast adrift in Trick's wake, his eyebrows raised and his pink lips slightly parted in surprise as he watched his boyfriend walk Dana away. He blinked at Phoenix and then he looked at Jesse, the mechanic they'd got distracted away from talking to. A pity, Harm thought, also casting a wistful look in the direction of the unusually-eyed smoker that had been sitting on Dana's other side. And, finally, he looked to the woman behind the bar. Whether she made eye contact with him or not, she was intimidating so his acknowledgement of her involved a quick dip of his head before he scurried away.
Because Dana wasn't the easiest of passengers, Harm caught up with Trick just in time to be told to get their phones. He rolled his eyes at Trick's back - because he'd intended to do that anyway, Trick's muscular heroism allowed for ogling only, not practical actions like retrieving belongings - but verbally agreed and veered obediently off towards the cloakroom. He supposed it would be wise to get Dana's things as well, though it took him hastily pointing her out and describing her intoxicated condition for them to release another person's belongings to him.
The drunk woman was becoming agitated as he approached so Harm jogged the last few metres towards her, taking a moment to realise why she was fighting Trick. "I have your shit!" he exclaimed triumphantly as he arrived, still holding his and Trick's phones in one hand but pulling the messenger bag strap over his head with the other. He held it aloft to get Dana's attention and then reached past Trick to give it to her, finding comfort in pressing his body against his boyfriend's. "Here it is! Be cool," he soothed. When she took it off him, his hand fell naturally to Trick's waist as they both watched her in concern.
-
Dana hugged her messenger satchel to her chest and hummed a few short, happy hums as she stroked buttery leather like she would a cat. If she liked cats. Or if cats liked her. Ever since she'd been bitten by a werewolf, they'd tended to do one of two things: freak the fuck out and run away, or freak the fuck out and hiss and claw at her until she ran away.
"I'm cool," she insisted, looking up from her bag and into a pair of big blue eyes fixed on her like he was afraid she might fall over right then and there. She'd show him. Dana straightened and wobbled, but she remained on her feet. The arm still supporting her wouldn't allow for anything else. "Like... a cucumber or a... fuck, I don't know." Dana made thinking faces, then brightened. "Right! Ice. You know. Cold as ice, willing to sacrifice our love." She snorted a laugh when she recalled one of the many times she'd ridden along in a truck with her dad, off on some adventure with classic rock playing on the radio. She'd sing loudly and offkey because she didn't know any other way, and he'd laugh and beg her to stop. She never had.
Fuck.
Different song. She needed a different song. She couldn't stay in the truck.
"Or ice, ice baby. Stop, collaborate and I'm gonna sit down now, okay?"
Tucking her chin into the top of her bag, she slid away from the man that held her up and onto the bench. There were glass panels that ran from ground to roof on either side of the bus stop, and she slumped over in one direction until she could rest her head against it.
"Thanks for saving my shit, by the way. It's... all my shit. My recording shit. My writing shit. My coping with life shit."
The final one prompted her to dig into her bag and retrieve her flask. She took a sip and then held it out towards the pair. "Can have some if y'want."
-
Trick kept a good hold on the woman until she tugged away. He rapidly followed her movements but would’ve lost his hold had Harm not been right there with her bag. Trick adjusted his grip to something less invasive but still supportive. He watched and listened as she slurred something and said ‘shit’ a bunch of times.
When she became dead weight, he guided her onto the seat—his purpose all along—and moved out of chucking up distance, standing against the side framework of the bus stop.
He looked toward the club but nobody stepped out of it. It was just the three of them. Frowning, he refocused on Harm and the woman. He addressed his boyfriend next.
“I don’t want to leave her here on her own,” he said, sure that Harm was the same.
-
Harm watched Dana in fascination, finding her drunken song references cute as hell. He couldn't help but grin at her as Trick released her under her own steam and she plopped onto the bus bench. His indulgent expression swiftly changed to one of consternation as she (somehow) flawlessly extracted a flask of booze from her bag and took a swig before he could stop her. He relaxed when she offered it to them and he stepped forward and took it before Trick could.
"Hell no, me either," Harm agreed as he screwed the cap back on the pungent flask and instinctively moved closer to Trick. Satisfied that Dana wasn't going to grab any more booze from nowhere, he turned his head to look up at his boyfriend. "I don't mind if we call it a night to get her home, I already had a good time," he offered, smiling reassuringly as the hand not holding the flask gravitated to the small of Trick's back to connect with him.
-
While they discussed what they’d do with her, Dana began to drag her feet onto the bench, but the spike of one high heel got caught on the edge of the seat. She grumbled and lifted her head enough to frown at the offending footwear. Blister-causing, wobbly-walking, trip-inducing torture devices. They clattered to the concrete one after the other as she nudged them off, exposing her toes to cool air. She wiggled them happily. God, that felt good.
Dana was still smiling as she drew her legs onto the bench so she could scoot, scoot, her way into a position where she could lie down. She stuffed her messenger satchel under her head to act as a pillow — a practiced motion that she performed flawlessly despite the world pitching and swaying around her.
"It’s okay. You don’t hafta," she said, waving them off with a flap of her wrist. "I just… Just need to rest my eyes for a little."
-
Trick watched Harm pluck the flask from Dana's hand and cap it without taking a swig. He smiled using the corner of his mouth nearest his boyfriend, a dip of his head soon after. Harm's warm hand brushed against his back and Trick's smile broadened before he was distracted by the sound of something clunking against the bus seat.
Heels clattered onto the ground and one of them tipped over. Trick was fascinated by their positioning, looking like a movie poster about a drunken party-goer.
Trick shook his head at the woman as she made herself comfy on the bus seat. He eyed her figure, assessing her weight. To Harm he said, "I'm pretty sure I'll be able to carry her. Are we taking her to my downstairs couch or your spare room?"
-
By the time Phoenix went back around the bar and grabbed a couple of bottles of water and swiped the VIP cards. Trick Dana and Harm had already disappeared. Shit he said under his breath as he scanned the crowded club for them. Not seeing them he blinked to the coat room. After discovering their things already picked up he blinked outside and seeing them down the road at the bus stop he teleported to them. The quick successive teleportation left him feeling dizzy and slightly nauseated.
"Water." He said holding the bottles out. He blinked slightly at the seat drapage that was Dana and smiled a little woozily as he leaned against the bust stop pole to steady himself. "Looks like you need a ride more so then water."
-
When the noise of Dana dumping her heels arose, Harm caught the calculating look in Trick's eyes and he snorted. "Here," he said, withdrawing Trick's phone from his pocket and holding it out to him. "You have that 'I need to Instagram this right now' look in your eye," he chuckled, following Trick's gaze and seeing it on the shoes rather than the woman who was - shit, she was going to sleep! He laughed again as Trick spoke of carrying her and getting her to one of their places but the solution was much simpler, in Harm's opinion - they should keep her awake and find out where her place was.
He hurried forward, split-second considerations firing in his brain as he headed for Dana. The fact that Trick offered his downstairs couch meant that he was considering taking them to his house for the night. There was something thrillingly intimate about that that trumped mention of his place. Harm's place was easy, no-one else lived there and they wouldn't be disturbing anyone if they dragged a drunken woman in to sleep off her intoxication.
Trick's was a family house, with his father and little sister living there. For that reason, Harm would certainly suggest they go to his place and not burden the Fallowses with Dana... but it would be laced with disappointment. He loved the idea of seeing Trick's family again and of being invited to stay the night in their home. It made him feel warm and fuzzy and accepted. Also, he knew that Trick had organised with his little sister to teach her to surf in the morning, so going there would make sense. Dana was a complication, though.
In amongst all this rapid thinking, Phoenix suddenly appeared on the other side of Harm, causing him to halt his progress towards Dana in order to perform a loud, arm-flailing, eye-bugging mid-air pirouette of shock. "HOLYFUCKINGSHIT!" he screeched, his heart rate tripling in an instant as he landed boggling at the handsome club owner in wide-eyed disbelief. "What the fuck man!" he panted hoarsely, his free hand clutched to his chest in a fist and the one holding Dana's flask wielded defensively in front of him like he might punch Phoenix if he got any closer. "Where the fuck did you come from? What the fuck even are you?"
If he hadn't been lost in the miasma of an adrenaline dump and fifty spikes of fear, he'd never have been so brash as to ask such a thing but, in the heat of that terrified moment, it felt like a perfectly legitimate question to pose to the creature that had instantly appeared out of thin fucking air right beside him! He edged slightly closer and swiped the bottle of water out of Phoenix's grasp for good measure coming to his senses enough to slip Dana's flask into his pants pocket with some difficulty (his hands were shaking).
-
Harm's outburst startled him slightly but once the shock wore off he couldn't help but feel amused at the cute guys tirade of shock. Appearing out of nowhere tended to have that effect on people and he had to admit, he kind of liked it. "Ummm, I'm a gorgon" he replied nonchalantly as Harm snatched the water from his hands. He had thought the snake hair from earlier would have given him away, but apparently not. He watched harm move towards Dana, assuming he was going to try and wake her then turned his attention to Trick
Still feeling a little shaky from the successive teleporting he opened the other bottle and took a swig. "I have a car or can get one." He said after taking a few mouthfuls and recapping the bottle. He had no idea how the trio had gotten to the club, offering them a ride home was the least he could do considering looking after a drunk Dana had apparently ended their night out.
-
Ten more seconds of silence and Dana would’ve fallen asleep, but the nearby commotion ruined everything. She sighed and cracked an eye open, then tilted her head slowly until three men came into her field of vision. Wait. Three? Dana squinted, but the third person remained. She squinted more.
What the fuck was he doing here?
“Hey,” she said and stared blearily at Phoenix while she levered herself onto an elbow, “you can shove that car up your ass.” Dana sat the rest of the slow way up, grumbling that she’d walk all the way to the caravan park before she accepted anything from him. She might be drunk but she remembered — she fucking remembered — what he’d said at the bar. “Misinformed. Yeah, you can… You can just— Just fuck right off with that,” she said, shooting one last glare at Phoenix before she twisted and swung her bare feet to the ground and stood. The concrete was cold and rough but she didn’t mind — she often went shoeless and had the callouses to prove it.
“Think I don’t know about the death matches,” she muttered darkly, clutching her messenger satchel tightly enough her knuckles whitened as she began weaving and stumbling away from the bus stop. “Fuckin’ using us as entertainment every full moon. Not me. Fuck that noise. I will— Pf, yeah, I’m never coming back here.”
Dana stopped dead in her tracks and looked around her, trying to place where exactly she was. “Soon as I figure out how to leave.”
-
He accepted his phone from Harm, shooting a grateful smile his way. Pushing off the side of the bus-stop he crouched to align the perfect angle for the heels. Moving the phone forward then backward, he tapped the screen to shift the focus. At the same moment his thumb moved to press the picture taking button Pheonix popped into existence and Harm yelped his fright.
Trick tossed then juggled the phone once, twice, three times into the air. He fumbled his catch but managed to slap it harmlessly against his inner thigh, holding it in place so it wouldn't smack against the concrete and shatter its screen. While Harm and Phoenix discussed how and what he was to be able to appear magically that way, Trick righted his phone and then himself, propelling himself upward into a standing position, the photo of the shoes forgotten.
Dana's difficult to follow blurting came next and Trick at first giggled at her crass refusal of Phoenix's car before his brows furrowed. "Did she say death matches?" he repeated slowly, looking first at Harm and secondly at Phoenix.
-
"Yes, misinformed. Maybe actually talk to those involved in the subject matter." He called out to Dana as she stumbled past. Where ever she got her information from she certainly hadn't spoken to the pack or to Saraekiel, nor to anyone who actually participated in the fights.
At Tricks question and the look in his eyes Phoenix sighed heavily. "The club has an underground supe fighting ring. Once a moth there is a championship fight, its called a Death Match. There are a lot of rumours about it and the pack use it as part of their initiation or something, but that's entirely pack business. Fighting weres is generally not allowed, although there are some who like the thrill and danger of it." He thought of Jesse and his insistence to step into the ring and fight any and all who were willing and allowed.
-
A gorgon? Seriously? Harm had hypothesised something along those lines when he saw the snake 'hair' earlier but it was still a preposterous and amazing thing to have confirmed. Gorgons were real, just like the rest of it, and they could apparently blink all over the place like living heart attacks looking for a place to happen. He wondered if Phoenix's good looks had a lot of people forgiving him his terrifying habit of appearing out of nowhere (scaring them to death) or whether he got punched regularly. Perhaps that was a question for later.
Dana sitting up and abusing Phoenix had him turning his wide-eyed stare back upon her. She seemed genuinely angry. The mention of death matches and using 'us' didn't go unnoticed and rapid connections fired in Harm's brain as he considered the full moon reference as well. If he had to guess (and he didn't, but he was a nosy fucker when it came to supernaturals), he'd hazard she might be a werewolf. A werewolf that was unsteadily but inexorably escaping his and Trick's protective custody as she stumbled indignantly away.
"Hey!" Harm called out, snatching her shoes up and hurrying after her belatedly because he'd been interested in Phoenix's response to Trick's question about death matches. It sounded very ominous. Unfortunately, he also felt obligated to go scoop Dana up and keep her safe so he was forced to run away from them before he heard it all. As it turned out, despite his panic, he didn't have to travel very far; he came to a stop nearby as Dana became disoriented and tried to figure out how to leave.
"We can take you home, if you want," he offered kindly, linking his arm with Dana's and circling around her so that he turned her back towards the bus shelter and he could walk her back to Trick. "Where do you live?"
-
An arm wound its way around hers and by the time she determined it was the blond guy that’d rescued her shit from the assholes that’d taken it from her for ‘security reasons’, she’d been aimed at Phoenix again. And naturally, he was defending the club, sprinkling sugar on a pile of garbage and trying to pass it off as palatable.
"Yeah, I wanna go," she said, dropping and turning her head to look at her nursemaid, "but I got something to say to that asshole first." When Dana straightened, the world spun around her, but she blinked it back and lifted her chin. Alcohol was fuel on a fire she’d usually try to bank, but Phoenix deserved it: she blasted him with pent-up frustration.
"They’re called death matches," Dana snapped, "‘cause you put two people in a cage, and then other people with a lot of money, they pay you to see which one dies. Try to spin it to make yourself look better, but it’s still fucked." She jabbed her tongue at the inside of her mouth, scoffing and shaking her head. "That’s just the way of the world though, right? The little people get shit on while the ones up top expect to be thanked for giving them the fucking privilege?"
She didn’t wait for an answer before she looked at the man that’d dragged her out of the club in the first place. Anger burned in her eyes but the fire was going out fast. It didn’t matter. It never did. She could yell, she could write, but nothing changed. Phoenix would go back inside and dance and hand out VIP passes and pretend he had the right to exploit people. And her? She’d go home, wake up with a hangover, and start drinking again because what else could she do?
"Just— take me home. Please. I need to get out of here before I say anything else."
-
Phoenix's response had Trick staring at him, expressionless. His stare drifted down the other man to his shoes and then back up again to his face. He didn't look as impressed as he had the first time his eyes had performed that sweep.
He looked over his shoulder and half-turned when Harm took a few necessary steps after the drunk lady and held her in place as she made another accusation at the gorgon. Trick looked between them, at her seething words and then to see how Phoenix was taking them.
"Car's not far away," Trick said, turning his back on Phoenix and joining the pair. His eyes were filled with relief that Harm had his arm around the woman so he didn't have to get close.
Before the woman was too far gone to talk and while she was riled up, Trick asked her some questions. "What did he mean by a pack using the death matches for initiations? Initiations into what? And... are you a werewolf?" He looked up into the night sky.
-
It hurt, the look. He opened his mouth to say something, defend himself maybe but shut it as Dana turned and once again attacked him with her drunken half truths and vitriol. Fuck it, why did he even bother. people will think what they want anyway. As Trick turned his back on him and walked towards Dana he felt something break a little and shift within him, turning a little darker, a little colder. He straightened his spine and stood taller and squared his shoulders as he watched the trio with a touch of sadness in his eyes, quickly shuttered behind a cool aloofness.
"Well, we are all entitled to our opinions. You seem to be in capable hands Miss Fields. I guess all I can do is wish you all a good night and safe travels."
Dana was drunk and arguing with one never achieved anything, she also seemed to be one who held onto what she believed regardless of truth. Trick and Harm...time will tell or not but it was obvious they were done with him for the night. he offered harm a turning up of the corners of his mouth and a small nod of his head before doing the expected and blinked out of their proximity. Doing so much Traveling so quickly in such a short span of time was going to have some serious repercussions but he didn't care, vomiting and migraines were better then being where he wasn't wanted or welcomed. His sister was right. no one outside their cluster would ever accept him.
Which was total bullshit he decided as he hugged the porcelain throne in his bathroom a few seconds later and emptied everything he had inside him, his head feeling like it was being cleaved over and over again with a sledgehammer. he wouldn't, couldn't believe that.
-
Dana wouldn’t have been surprised if Phoenix had spewed some bullshit about how deathmatches weren't actually fought to the death, the term was just a figure of speech, and they didn’t force anyone to participate anyway, so what was the harm? But he didn’t. He blinked out of existence.
Now for the questions she hadn’t gotten around to answering because Phoenix had needed to make a dramatic exit.
She rolled her eyes skywards, the same direction the tall dark-haired guy had looked when he'd asked her point-blank if she was a werewolf.
"If you were trying to find the moon, it’s not full yet," she said with a ghost of a smile. "So you don’t gotta worry about me shifting on the way." Dana looked back down, eyes widening before she blinked hard and blew a raspberry. God, the spins should be over by now. She waited until the world leveled out, took a deep breath, and dredged on. "As for… for the pack? My guess is you survive the deathmatch, you get in. I’m not sure, though. I’m not part of it. Just writing about them." She shrugged and pulled on the strap of her messenger satchel back onto her shoulder when it began to slip off.
"Or was. Don’t know where the fuck I’m gonna get sources now."
-
Trick didn't see Phoenix blink away as his attention was focussed elsewhere.
"Writing about them and getting sources," Trick repeated the words a touch slower than the woman--Miss Fields--had slurred them but a whole lot clearer. "You're a werewolf journalist?" His eyes sidled to the side towards Harm. "Like a mummy blogger?" He laughed to himself as the trio reached his car in their shambling way. "Holy shit! I just thought of how that could be a thing, like with the wrappings and the desert and stuff," he said. "Mummy blogger," he repeated, looking from Harm to the drunk woman and back again.
"Tsst," he sounded beneath his breath while unlocking the car doors. After turning his key to the accessories, he opened the back door and pressed down the window button so that fresh air would pound whoever sat in the back. "Are you sitting in the back with her?" he asked Harm.