Summary:Therapy hosts a Goth-Halloween costume event, and some friends meet there. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
Related LogsTheme SongNone |
Halloween. The week when New York teaches the rest of the world how to really party.
Across town, bars and venues have ramped up their decorations, hired DJ's and bands, planned special events and costume contests. Therapy is no different, but this year, the club has allowed its weekly Goth Night collaborative to launch the celebrations with a special 'Dark Side Halloween Event'. Costumes range from vampire hunters to Pinheads; from Princess Leia's in shibari to Darth Vaders in latex. Supposed 'normies' are welcome here as well; there's no expectation that one be sufficiently costumed- or gothed-up just to attend.
The DJ is currently playing throwbacks to the origin of goth music; classics ranging from Bauhaus and Einsturzende Neubauten to The Smiths, NIN and Skinny Puppy. People from all walks of life are here; some who abstain from alcohol altogether, ranging all the way to those who exchange bathroom breaks for cocaine bumps with patio breaks for cigarettes. There's always been an unspoken rule around Dark Side though; no drama, no fighting, safe spaces.
One corner of the club has been roped off and is covered by black curtains, behind which a BDSM event is taking place. It's free to access by anyone, but closed off in order to prevent those who might be discomforted by it from feeling triggered in any way. A bouncer at the door checks ID's, marking hands for those who are over 18 but not yet of drinking age.
One of those hand stamps are given at the door, the bouncer methodically making the mark on the blond youth's hand. No need for words, just a presentation, acceptance, and then a stroll on by as the young Olympian makes his way. Garbed in blue and gold, a costume brought forth seemingly from the late 1700s, Alexander Aaron cuts a rather fine silhouette. The blue satin coat, the golden trim, the white undershirt with a scarf of the same color and those lovely black leather riding boots… they all come together to present this image of a wealthy landowner from that period of time.
But, of course, the fangs complete it.
He pulls them out so he doesn't lisp too much when he leans to the side toward the young woman accompanying him. "See?" He says, lifting his voice loud enough to carry despite the heavy thump-thump-thump of the music, his words not carrying beyond the mutant girl's considerable hearing. "I told you it would be super cool."
And as he says that he steps out and away, spreading his arms and offering wide warm greetings to those nearest. Even if he doesn't know them. He knows the place, and he knows it is cause enough for celebration tonight. Enough.
Another hand stamp is given to the woman entering behind the vampire Alex. She is the girl next door basically, her black hair styled in a braid on either side that hang forward over her shoulders. The dress Laura wears is black with a Peter Pan style collar in white. Cinched at the waist so it is fitted then an A-line skirt. Beneath, a pair of black leggings that disappear into black combat boots.
She frowns at the sudden oversaturation of stimuli. Sound, sight, and smell in an overwhelming blast as she walks past the bouncer and pauses to try to adjust to so much everything. She frowns at Alex a bit as she sniffs audibly then blows out the air forcefully, like something offensive just got into her olfactory center.
"Is that what you call it? Cool? I think I define things very differently." she asks bluntly as she looks at him then follows quietly as he starts approaching people.
'Maybe you should try some alternative fashion, Kory,' her agent said diplomatically. 'The market for you is good now, because winter clothes hold in your shine, but it'll be spring before you know it and bang! the fashionistas are gonna want someone less luminous. My advice is, diversify. Maybe branch out into weird stuff! Time was that woulda been career suicide, but these days you can do porn and still get into the White House.'
'Is that a fashion club?' Koriand'r asked.
'Just about,' her agent said with a laugh, which satisfied Koriand'r. She wasn't much interested in porn, but, hey! Exclusive fashion clubs are always fun. So she accepted a business card from her agent, who made an appointment with the gentleman named on it for a custom fitting, and, after a long series of complaints and an explanation that the discomfort was part of the point because the slight edge of fear increases awareness and makes every sense's perceptions richer, Koriand'r agreed to at least try the outfit: a black, rubber body stocking covering every bit of her from the chin down. When Koriand'r complained about the lack of jewelry, the creator consented to adding a silver mantle that flows down into a design mimicking Koriand'r's iconic suspender bikini; the tiara was Koriand'r's idea, added with absolute confidence it would make the outfit look right. After some practice walking on the narrow heels, she strolls into Therapy, face, eyes, and hair glowing in a way that makes some of the patrons hiss and most of them recoil. She's pleased by this turn of events. She must look very regal indeed! And the designer was right, this is the perfect environment to test it out.
He was also right about the outfit instilling a constant but low-level sense of panic as her outfit makes it just barely perceptibly harder to breathe, as if she has a second skin that's fighting to contract when the rest of her wants to expand, but so far it's interesting. Exciting, even.
So it's in a good mood Koriand'r walks confidently up to the bar and demands, "Yes, hello! I would like to consume one tea with icing, from the Island of Long, please."
A young woman with a bright red shock of wig-hair seems to be wearing nothing more than white bands that cling to her curves in lateral strips, with one central strip, barely providing any decency. Anya Corazon has been wanting to do this costume for so many years. That's right, she's dressed up as Leelo Minai Lekatariba-Laminai-Tchai Ekbat de Sebat, Milla Jovovich's character from the Fifth Element.
It's a great change of pace from the evening gown she begrudgingly put on for her shift at Luke's last night. She's no hack, however. It's cold out, and she's got a superhero costume to conceal, so her body is shrouded from neck to fingertip and toe in a spandex bodysuit that matches her skin tone, helping to sustain the costume's extreme look without leaving her half naked. She only looks half naked. It's a Halloween thing.
The young woman is there on the dance floor with friends from NYU, all of them having done their costumes right and with great attention to detail, as if they were on their way to Dragon Con. There's a Worf (Next Generation era), a very convincing Legolas, a Mia Wallace complete with overdose makeup and a hypodermic needle sticking out of her chest, a young man with a shirt that reads 'AC/allica' and half a blond pompadour wig who seems to be dressed up as both Beavis AND Butt-Head, and of course, shibari Princess Leia is with her as they dance away to the wonderful tones of an old Love and Rockets song.
"Drinks?" one of them says.
"Drinks!" Anya answers.
Beavis and Butt-Head snicker, the young man doing a really good job of emulating both in rapid succession. "Yeah! Hehe, drinks! - Huhuhuh, we're gonna get wasted. - Yeah! Wasted! YEAH!! FIRE!"
Rolling her eyes, Anya turns and leads the group toward the bar, but most of them get distracted by various things, so she's left (much to her chagrin) with the Mike Judge combo trailing behind her as she makes for the bar. She gets there just in time to hear someone ordering a drink in a very particular manner, and she turns to look at Koriand'r, staring at her for a few moments before the glowing and the face triggers recognition.
"Oh. My. God!! Kory Anders!"
Amongst the wild panoply of costumes and sights and sounds, it is indeed hard to stand out considering the number of things that simply leap out and demand attention. The dance floor with the people gyrating to the music is a draw, and the bar with its promise of such lovely drinks…
Though neither Alex nor Laura can truly be affected by them.
There are the groups of people gathered to laugh and talk and flirt, and to be fair Alexander offers introductions with some of his acquaintances there. "This is Laura. She's ok. I guess." Resounding support given, though once they're free from the first crowd he leans in to yell in her ear.
"I thought you were gonna go as Louis!" Which they had no such agreement, "You shoulda told me, I woulda gone as like Gomez or Lurch or someone." Though he doesn't have the heigh for Lurch for sure. "Maybe Pugsley?" Which are the last few words he offers as he wanders to the bar.
"Who?" And there is the revelation. Not a single name he dropped made any sense to Laura at all. "I know you said you were going as Lestat but I don't know who that is. Or Louis. Or Lurch." Or any of the others but she doesn't continue listing them.
She glances toward the bar as they work through the crowd after greeting his friends, picking up a weird scent that didn't fit with everything else here. It was spices. Much like tarragon but not. Something she hadn't smelled in the past. There was also a higher heat source than a normal human had. Who knew how many mutants or aliens might be in this crowd though? They'd blend right in.
She focused on Alex. "One of my friends told me this was the perfect outfit for me. To just braid my hair this way. And that my character is Wednesday." She considers then opts to ask. "Is this the personification of a week day?"
Koriand'r hears Buttvis cackling about fire and turns reflexively to make the usual explanation that no, it's not really fire, it's just an optical effect, when someone calls her name. Smiling (because why wouldn't you smile when someone calls your name?), she turns to spot Leeloo, a woman after her own fashion sense but whose face seems famil—
"Ah! I know you! You asked for my autograph at the bar last night, then photographed it! It is nice to see you again, friend," she greets warmly, with an approving once-over of her outfit. She knows humans have trouble with the cold, but still, that's a proper way to dress, and she appreciates it. It's odd how she feels as if she's taking in every detail more closely, as if her pupils are dilated to…
Koriand'r is embracing Anya and kissing the corner of her mouth before she remembers herself and steps back. "Forgive me, I forgot for a moment that is not the hAmerican custom." Smooth recovery. "We did not exchange names yesterday. What is yours, friend?"
Laughing, Anya nods her head vigorously. "Well, yes! But, it was for my friend. I kinda told her if she didn't get your number, I was gonna get it, and I'm pretty sure I got it first." She shrugs, unaware of what might be transpiring with Kori as she rambles on. She does ramble, often. "But I gave it to her, just in case you didn't. I hope that's cool, because-"
The young woman's words are cut off when suddenly she's… feeling much warmer than she was moments ago. She's left staring wide-eyed at Koriand'r, her face flushing a darker shade of light brown.
"…. huhuh, cool, You just scored," says the Butt-side of Buttvis.
Anya reaches out a hand and baps Buttvis upside the head, lightly. "Cool it, Jamie," she retorts, and turns to him long enough to add, "Seriously if you stay in character all night there's absolutely no chance you will score!"
Turning back to Koriand'r, she laughs lightly and reaches a hand up to scratch at the shaved head beneath her wig. "It's okay, we, uh, y'know, we are accepting of all customs around here." Anything to keep her mind off what just happened, and her eyes off the way Koriand'r is dressed. She couldn't do such a thing to poor Becca! "I'm Anya, Anya Corazon."
"Ohhhh," Alexander says as they sidle up to the bar and he waves down the tender, just enough eye contact to make sure they're noticed but doesn't press for service since on a night like this… they're probably going to be all sorts of busy and distracted and… yeah.
"You're Wednesday Addams." He sets his fangs on the bartop and leans there, waiting for service but still chatting amiably. "She's ummm, this little sister in a family of strange people? Who are like, strange? But they all love each other and get along so it's ok that they're strange? Like how we're all sorta weird with our own stories thing?"
The blond Olympian youth is not a master of dialogue. But he tries to get his point across. "But yeah, I can totally see it." His lip twitches, "She was a little nicer, though."
Angela heard that it was a goth party, thanks to a text convo with Anya, so shows up appropriately. Her normally loose red hair is darker and slicked back at the moment, styled rather elaborately as her left eye has a kohl Egyptian eye drawn around it, a single teardrop penciled on her cheek below. She wears fingerless black gloves as well as a tight-fitting burgundy corset, along with a black turtleneck shirt underneath the corset less for modesty but rather warmth, since it is almost November. A black skirt, fishnets, and black combat boots with red flames stitched into them complete the look, as she glances around. Her lips curl into a wide grin as she sees Anya, making her way over towards her with a wave. "Hey! Hope I'm not too late!" And she still sounds like she's fluently speaking in whatever the native language of the listener is, no matter what that might be.
During the rambling explanation, Laura just watches him curiously. "Huh." That is the verbose reaction to the explanation. So a group of strange people that were a family and loved each other. Sort of like the Mansion. Now she understood why the outfit was suggested.
Until the last sentence. Then her eyes narrowed. "I am nice." Her voice drops a little as she settles onto her barstool, hooking her booted feet around the legs of the stool in a comfortable posture. She waits for her chance to order. "Or you wouldn't have invited me. Unless you hate me. I could see inviting someone you hate to a place like this. So many smells. I think I'd get a headache if that were possible."
Koriand'r smiles at Anya. "It is a pleasure to meet(thank you)you," she says, with only a quick aside for the servant who returns her Long Island iced tea. She sniffs the drink's bitter flavor with satisfaction, takes a sip, and continues, "Both for the gift of your name and for your acceptance! It is very difficult to find Americans"
She doesn't stutter over the word she intended that time, at least.
"who feel that way. It feels stifling, and NOT in the pleasant, exciting way." She shakes her head ruefully; her outfit creaks. "But I am being self-concerned. Please tell me of yourself, Anya. You spoke of a friend you wished to gift my autograph to?"
"Tell me about it," Anya agrees. She glances from Koriand'r to the curtained off, BDSM area, then looks back to the glowing woman, and is… no. No way she's been back there. But she looks like she's been back there, and she's talking as if she's experienced being back there, and of course Anya would NEVER engage in that kind of behavior (except often).
Now it is her turn to stammer, and she does it well. "Well, y'know, we… is it… d'you think-"
OH! ANGELA IS HERE.
Whipping her head around, Anya's eyes brighten. "Holy shit, you came!" she blurts out, laughing. "Wicked!" Then she looks down at the way Angela is dressed, sizing her up head to toe, at which point her expression becomes devilsh. "Real wicked. I dig it." She turns around and says, "Kory, this is Angela, she was at Luke's last night, too!"
In no way is she trying to dodge talking about herself, or about Becca. Nope, she's not doing that at all.
"I don't /hate/ you," Alexander's smile is open and warm as he looks over the crowd, leaning back against the bar. His bright blue eyes sweep the area and in some ways he does look a touch like his costumed persona there in the way he considers the ebb and flow of humanity. His lip twitches wryly as he then greets the bartender.
"Heya. Ginger ale?" Since yeah, hand stamp. But then he looks back over toward Laura and replies with the same amusement in his gaze. "I just think you need to get out a bit, and run around, and not be stuck in a sort of…" His eyes distance past her, expression contemplative before he adds…
"Rut with the same interactions with the same people? Otherwise you'll start to normalize this abnormal situation and it might make it harder for you to acclimate to other aspects of the world." At that he nods as if he were an authority.
Dr. Alexander Aaron and his social diagnosis.
Angela smiles over at Kori, "Hey, yeah, I noticed you at the party. Glad you enjoyed it there." She grins and slips an arm around Anya if allowed, giving the younger woman a firm hug, "Thanks for the invite, the last time I was at a Goth party I think they were sacking Rome!" Her eyes show more than a bit of amusement at the line, then she offers Kory a hand, "Angela Carpenter. I have an art studio over in SoHo."
Something about what Alex said amused her. Laura's smile was small but it was there. "Root beer." That's her handstamp order. It wouldn't matter if she was old enough. Alcohol really wasn't something that worked for her well.
She turned that half smile to her companion. "But I am an abnormal situation. It's a whole different thing. While I can be here and play my role, they taught me that much, for infiltration purposes. But actually relaxing, not evaluating everyone around me and having an exist strategy using one of the six exits in visual range of us right now? That doesn't go away."
She turns to look a the dance floor and all the people moving there in some frenetic display that made no sense to her. She wasn't sure it made sense to them either. "Besides, you don't get to give me advice when you refuse to take it from others."
Koriand'r knows better. She really does. She knows it's not how humans greet, she knows it'll just cause trouble, she knows both Angela and anyone watching will think it means something it doesn't.
But dammit, she's so tired of acting like a robot.
Koriand'r smiles brightly at Angela (figuratively brightly: her skin and eyes and hair glow, but her teeth, white though they may be, do not), rests a palm on Angela's shoulder, and leans in to kiss her hello. It's a more square on, less brief kiss than Anya got, but still nothing the camera would zoom in on during sweeps week on a CW show or anything. She then accepts Angela's hand and shakes it, her natural heat radiating through the rubber outfit. "It is pleasant to meet you, friend Angela. I admire your costume. I would ask you about your gallery, but friend Anya was saying something I do not wish to insult her by ignoring." She turns to face Anya again, smiling brightly, pleasantly, openly. "Please forgive me. You were asking what I think of something?"
Hearing Angela in Spanish, Anya smiles brightly and does not resist at being hugged. She even returns the favor! However, at the remark about sacking Rome, Anya seems confused and shakes her head, as if trying to figure out if there's a joke there that she's missed. Sacking Rome? Was there a party she went to some time about… like… Romans? Oh God. Is Angela secretly a frat girl?
Now she is feeling very thankful for Kory's distraction. "Oh, no, no. I was just gonna say, I'm not very interesting, not really. Just graduated with my BS from NYU, and I'm kind of in the whole 'do I go to grad school' limbo, so I'm picking up more shifts at Luke's, which means I'm gonna end up one of those women who have a degree and still work in the service industry. As for the friend I wanted to give your number to… that was Becca. The other bartender from Luke's." She grins brightly at Kory and tells her, "I'm pretty blunt. She's got the hots for you."
Glancing back to Angela then, she considers something. She's only spoken to her in Spanish, and their text conversation was in Spanish, but she's got a suspicion. She switches to English. "You speak all languages, don't you?" she asks, bluntly.
Meanwhile, Buttvis is getting bored of this conversation, so he moves over closer to Laura and Alexander. Laura's costume gets his attention, and he grins her way, still staying in character. "Whoa, cool!" says 'Beavis', while Butt-Head snickers. "Hehehehe, yeah, it's, like, Wednesday Addams! She kicks ass!"
"That makes completely no sense." Alexander says as he gets his ginger ale, likely earning him a grimace from the tender since the tip on a pair of soft drinks is usually crap, though they likely make up for it by charging a good chunk for it.
The Vampire Lestat sans teeth leans over and peers at Wednesday Addams and tells her point blank, "Just because I choose not to take the advice of some evil telepathic harpy of a woman does not mean I'm suddenly unable to give advice myself. I mean, you should still take advice from a chef on how to cook your foie gras even if he decides to ignore the words of his mechanic and doesn't get the extended warranty for his brake pads." Not to belabor and fail at maintaining a metaphor.
That having been said, Alex takes a deep breath and just listens to the music for a little while, watching the dancing and the happy and the way people are getting along. Then, after a few moments he grimaces and says sidelong, "But I appreciate what you're trying to say." There, he meets her halfway. Sort of.
Of course that's the moment when Buttvis makes his approach and offers his support for Laura's costume choice he points at the 'duo' and he says, "See? Now just gotta teach you the song."
Angela does mmm a bit in surprise, but not an unpleasant one, placing a hand on Kory's shoulder as she is kissed in greeting, then smiles back at Kory, "Well met." She then looks over at Anya, "That's… well, ah, it's a little complicated." Especially since she's speaking Tamaranean as far as Kory is concerned, Spanish to Anya, and English to most other people here…
As Buttvis approaches, he gets a curious look from Laura then he is basically dismissed. Until she realizes he's talking to her. Social cue picked up, she reorients on him although the frown on her face may be sending the opposite message than receptiveness. "She does indeed kick ass." Like she knows? Then something Alex says as her gaze slipping from Buttvis back to him. "There's a song? This was supposed to be uncomplicated," she mutters. She looks at Buttvis as though this oversight was his fault. "Were you aware there is a song?"
"Ah," Koriand'r replies to Anya with a knowing nod. "Many people do. She is welcome to call me if she wishes, and leave the voiced mail." Voice mail? Does she not carry a phon—oh, right, there's literally nowhere she could possibly be carrying a phone unless she maybe tied it under her hair or something. Probably doesn't do that.
Probably.
Returning to Angela, Koriand'r asks, "So, you own art, and you speak all languages?" she asks, just another dilettante asking leading questions to pull someone out of their shell at a party.
"No, it's cool," Anya tells Angela. "I get it." She's, of course, assuming that it's some kind of power thing, and it causes her to grin. "Kinda useful really, but I think it's super dope that you're running an art studio instead of, y'know, going to work for some corporation as a translator." In the back of her mind, she's still trying to piece together if she knows which studio is Angela's. Oh, she's been to her fair share of art shows in SoHo.
"I don't know her too well," Anya tells Koriand'r, "but Luke's a good guy, and he only hires good people. If anything, she'll make a great friend, but I totally think you two should go on a date."
This is precisely when Jamie, aka Buttvis, takes the opportunity to bust into the Beavis and Butt-Head rendition of Smoke On The Water. Loudly. "DUNH DUNH DUNNNNH! DUNH DUNH DA-DUNNNH!" He's drunk, so it's probably a bit louder than anyone might have expected.
Anya's eyes go wide. She snatches up a plastic cup that is almost completely empty of its vodka and red bull, and wings it at Buttvis's head. It strikes him square in the pompadour, knocking it crooked.
"Anya!" Jamie cries, finally getting out of character. "Dude!"
"Knock it off!" she spits back. "Seriously, dude, you're gonna get your ass kicked if you keep that up!!"
Grinning wide with an expression that borders upon the demonic, Alexander looks up and down the bar and then looks at Laura and /shouts/ hopefully loud enough to carry far enough to catch the ear of those nearest at the bar even though the thump of the music doesn't help.
"They're creepy and they're kooky!"
"Mysterious and spooky!"
"They're altogether ooky!" A few of those at the bar laugh and join in a bit. But the last line Alexander holds off and waits a little… looking for support and leveling his gaze on Buttvis and then past him only to switch back to Laura.
"The ADDAMS…"
Angela chuckles softly, "Something like that, it's a bit of a… gift, you might say." She smiles a little at Kory, then glances over towards Anya, "Well, I mostly sell replica weapons and armor, I'm a blacksmith by trade, though I do other things as well. Doing well enough to keep the studio free and clear, anyway. Mostly I do things for the LARP crowds and such, which is how I knew to dress right for the party." She grins, "You'd be amazed how many people want an authentic looking sword or chestplate for their costume."
Laura has many regrets in her life. This was getting added to the pile as things unfolded.
She never knew that asking such a simple question would lead to people singing. It was a yes or no question!
The thrown cup has her unwrapping her feet from her barstool, ready to move but realizing that it wasn't at her. It struck the target, being the man who had been starting to sing. Loudly.
Only to be replaced by the sound of Alex as he was singing. She looked at him wide eyed and for one single moment, she considered if it would be improper to gut someone in the middle of a bar.
She knew the answer and thus she was stuck watching him embarass himself. Because she wasn't embarassed by it. She just was wishing she had not asked the question.
"Carpenter Studios!" Anya seems to have finally put it together. "I've totally seen your work, it's-" She turns to the bartender as he waves for her attention. "Tequila and sprite with a splash of bitters." Back to Angela. "It's really good!"
Buttvis spins back around, belching. "FFFAMILY!"
Turning to Kori and Angela, Anya holds up a finger. It's the 'one moment, I'll be right back' finger, and the expression on her face can best be described as feisty. She turns and marches over to her friend, and grabs him by the arm, spinning him around to face her. "Jamie. Water, no more drinks, and go out and have a smoke or five." She shoos him toward the free water serving station, then turns back toward Laura and Alexander with a sigh.
"Sorry," she explains. "That's Jamie, he's my friend. Once a year, around Halloween, he always gets some Molly and goes on a huge roll. Every year he makes an ass of himself. The costume's cool and all, and it was funny at first, but he won't get out of character. I'm sorry if he annoyed you guys, okay?" She then grins and looks over both of them. "Wicked costumes, by the way."
This is a gap in pop culture knowledge that will not stand. Alexander is in the middle of grinning, clearly entirely amused by Buttvis' appropriate belching though it might not amuse Laura quite as much. He crinkles his nose at the small X-person then pushes away from the bar. "C'mon, we gotta do something about this."
He digs into a pocket of his elaborate blue satin coat and produces a bill that he slaps on the bartop under the half-empty glass of his ginger ale, enough for the tender and then he rounds about to depart.
"Oh hey," Anya is there and he meets her gaze, his blue eyes flitting back and forth as he looks at the LeeLoo person, "No worries. And yah, totally cool costume."
He gestures toward Laura with a hand, "We. Are gonna go do the karaoke thing." And with that he starts to step past Anya, heading away from the bar for the moment.
Koriand'r considers following Anya over to the overdressed by her standards man and woman, but decides against it. Too many people freak out when she joins them. Best to let them come over if they're interested. To Angela, she asks, "Replicas? Then were I to require a sword, I ought to look elsewhere?" Her tone and posture are interested, as if she's trying to make sure she got the facts straight. Never know when you need a sword, and you might not have time to go to the wrong vendor.
Angela hmms, "Well, if you needed a sword with a genuine edge, that I could help with. Most people don't, though there are always exceptions to that rule." She smiles warmly as Anya seems to recognize the studio, but then gets a little distracted by the mention of Alex talking about, "Wait, did he say karaoke?" She perks up at the thought of singing.
As Anya approaches, Laura says the first words that come to mind. "Nice aim. You have a good arm." Because that's the important stuff. She can hit a target, even in a room filled with people. Pretty impressive.
She looks at the costume Anya is wearing curiously, catching a tiny fold that gives away it is a bodysuit so it looks revealing without being revealing.
"I don't know who that is either." She tells Alex as though this is going to come as a surprise. But she gives Anya a brief smile because that is what the social rules say one should do. "Your friend is fine. Just keep him on a short leash for a bit." She pulls a twenty out of her pocket, laying it under her own drink and leaving one heckuva tip for the bartender. That'll teach him to judge the soda crowd poorly!
"Karaoke? Why are we going to karaoke?" she asks as she follows him on his path.
"Yup, karaoke!" Alexander answers one of the voices in the room as he shouts over his shoulder, though that voice just so happens to belong to Angela. But the youth in the Lestat costume turns around and flashes a grin toward the Wednesday Addams girl and says, "Since we're going to do moooar singink."
That said he sticks his fangs back in his mouth and then tells her with the now predatory smile, "Lesh go. Hollow hee." And with that he starts to move to the door, then most likely through.
"I believe I heard her pronounce that word," Koriand'r agrees to Angela. "Though it did not strike me as the atmosphere for it." Said the woman in the black body condom, right? Still, Koriand'r is very interested. If this is the crowd her agent wants her catering to, she might as well absorb its culture. Apparently embracing the beauty of nihilim doesn't preclude wanting to get up on stage and sing copyrighted music to your peers.
Laura's observation causes Anya to blink owlishly. "I'm just lucky," she blurts out without thinking. No, it has nothing to do with enhanced reflexes and perception, not that at all! "Thanks," she says brightly of the compliment. "I've always wanted to do it, but it's cold! Stupid me only now figured out, duh." She reaches down to said fold, stretches it out and snaps it back into place. "Webd-sssssppandex!" she sputters, and her face turns another shade of olive.
At mention of karaoke, her face brightens and she rushes back to join Angela and Koriand'r, beaming. "There's apparently karaoke here?" She's virtually bouncing. "I had no idea. Let's go find it!" She snatches up her drink (already has a tab open, thanks to all those awesome tips she made last night). Then, she makes to snake her way between the two ladies, intent on hooking her arm through both to keep them at either side of her. Her hand never strays from the glass, and though it's contents slosh dangerously close to the top and her grip seems entirely unstable, it never once spills or drops. "Let's go find it," she says, having lost sight of Alexander and Laura.
The dance floor seems to be a good bet.
Angela smiles over at Anya, gladly taking the arm in hers, and grins, "Somehow, I think My Immortal will be my choice this evening. I like that song." And she's definitely dressed for Evanescence, that's for sure, as she looks over at Kori, "I do love to sing, and well… if you want a sword, meet me at the studio and we can talk more details there." She smiles warmly, both for making a new friend, and hey, new commissions are always good.
Not long after the two have reached the dance floor, Anya stops. It's almost as if she were paying attention to something that isn't either of her friends, or the music, or the dancing.
Abruptly she turns. "Bathroom," she says, and rushes through the people like an acrobat, headed for the unisex bathroom stalls. "<Arana, send alert to Spider-Comm,>" she subvocalizes in Spanish. "<I'm on my way.>"
The bathrooms are the type that are individual and for any gender, and she yanks a door open, accidentally breaking the lock. Inside is an underager hugging the toilet; she icks and grabs him by the shoulders, dragging him out. "Sorry, my dude. Lady's gotta pee. Go drink some water and find your friends."
Moments later, she's busted the window and is out in the alley, ripping her costume free to leave it discarded in the alley. She has no idea the hell she's about to endure.