Summary:Formal Party night at Luke leads to some interesting surprises Log Info:Storyteller: None |
Related LogsTheme SongNone |
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6:00 PM
Formal Night at Luke's has begun! The whole place has been cleaned up and decorated, a fancy combination of black tie and dark aesthetic. There are candles lit that line the bar and are centered on each table, and draperies have been hung in various places to key up the formal nature of the event.
However, a dark aesthetic themed shop a few blocks uptown has donated some decorations as well, with tags denoting the price should patrons wish to buy any of the items. A taxidermy ram's head has been hung on one wall; the bar is lined with various dead things encased in jars filled with embalming fluid, ranging from large spiders and scorpions to vivisected frogs and serpents. Tis the season.
Behind the bar and responsible for the first shift is a young, slender and quite beautiful Latina. Those who know her and how she typically dresses might be shocked to find her in a gorgeous blue evening gown, a true red carpet affair. It clashes oddly with the pink shock of hair atop her head, which is typically worn in a mohawk, but this evening, it has been flattened down by pomade in an androgynous manner. Her eyes are lined with darkness, and there is blue lipstick on her lips to match the painting of her fingernails. When the gown swishes the right way, black heels with spikes all over them can be seen, along with legs wrapped in black nylon.
In the corner, a three piece trio is playing some mellow jazz music. Drums, upright four string, and an old piano that sounds just slightly out of tune, which enhances the spooky undertone of this formal event.
Also on duty to wait tables is 'the new girl', the most recent addition to Luke's staff. Rebecca "Becca" Gadison is also considerably glammed up from what she usually wears for work, in a sleeveless pink-red minidress covered in filigrees of stitching and beadwork, accented with a few 'gemstones' and some strategically-placed sheer areas. Her golden mane is teased up and back, framing her lovely features, enhanced by tastefully understated makeup, and simple bead earrings, matching the color of her dress, glitter as they catch the light. The dress closely follows the young blonde's sleek curves, while its hemline shows off the toned shapeliness of her legs, sheathed in nylons just a bare shade darker than her skin. A pair of leather pumps, also matching her dress, complete the outfit, their three-inch stiletto heels bringing Becca's height to just about six feet even. (https://tinyurl.com/yylo4yq8)
Even with those heels, the Texan girl is surprisingly light on her feet, and as always, never seems to have any trouble balancing trays of drinks and food as she carries them back and forth.
Having had barely enough time to really meet Becca properly, Anya is finishing a round at the bar. The happy hour crowd has been brutal today, but it shows signs of thinning out just a hair. After wiping down the bar and dunking some stemware into the quat, she ends up at the edge of the bar, eyeballing Rebecca as she brings another round out to the patrons. "Shouldn't we be doing this, at, like, the end of the night?" she remarks to the cocktail waitress, with a rueful grin on her face. "That's when the tipping really goes through the roof." Anya is certainly not above using sex appeal combined with alcohol to make more money. Hence the cleavage.
(https://www.barnorama.com/wp-content/images/2013/01/erendira-ibarra/05-erendira-ibarra.jpg)
The owner, proprietor, bartender, and sometimes bouncer wanders in through the door to the back room. Luke is also 'putting on the ritz' with a bespoke tuxedo, a nice alabaster jacket made of raw silk, fitted over a dark blue to almost be black shirt and white bowtie. His legs are covered in the same fabric as the jacket as he strolls into the main bar in his bespoke outfit.
He strolls in looking at some paperwork, not yet having noticed the outfits his staff is wearing, "Anya, did you handle that shipment issue with the ribs? Seems the supplier is actually giving us more than we paid for…you didn't do something I am going to reg…" he looks up from the paperwork at Anya and pauses, his eyes passing over Becca as well.
"Wow." says the large, muscular man. "Just…wow. I…uh. Nevermind about the meat."
Becca replies, grinning, "I figure, why wait? If I can 'encourage' my tables' tippin' all night, why not?" Sex appeal for better tips? She's clearly in favor of the concept. The Daisy Dukes and belly shirt she wore for her last shift might be a subtle indicator of that. But then, she was on her Texas high school's cheer/dance team, so she's maybe used to being looked at. And maybe likes it.
Then Luke comes in, and she favors the big man with that dazzling smile of hers. "Hey, Boss. Looking pretty good there yourself. You clean up real nice."
"We're gonna be here all night, aren't we?" Anya tells Becca, and her eyes are absolutely twinkling with mischief. "Oh, I'm Anya, by the way. I know you know that, but like, I was so busy today with the decorations and shit, it just totally slipped my mind to say hi. I'm kinda scatterbrained sometimes."
When her name is called, the young woman turns to look at Luke, and she's just about as shocked as he. To be fair, she missed the first part, considering the tuxedo was not what she was expecting. It doesn't take long for the mischief in her soul to find its voice, however, and she glances toward the former Texan with a very sublime smirk.
"Oh, no." She turns back to Luke, leans an elbow on the bar, and kicks her leg out so that Rebecca, Luke, and half the patrons can see just how mean those heels really are, and the shiny charcoal tinted leg they're worn on.
"Tell us more about the meat."
Luke blinks, looking at Anya for a brief moment after her comment before shaking his head as he glances from her to Becca and back. "Careful, there. I could take that comment the wrong way, and then there might be oversharing and HR complaints and harassment charges…it could get messy for me."
He smirks, eyeing the Latina again and raises a quick brow before looking back at his sheet, "Anyway…as I was saying, the rib shipments seem to be over what we are paying. Just wanted to make sure the books were proper. Do you know if Hod changed the order?"
He looks over to Becca and smiles, "Thanks. I had it made…do you know how hard it is to find a suit that fits someone like me off the rack? I had to go get this custom. Glad it seems to have turned out alright."
"Totally worth it," Becca replies to Luke, with regard to his custom tailoring. Turning to Anya, she says, "An' I know, since I started we seem t'be one of us coming on whenever the other is leaving, before tonight. Glad to finally be workin' with you." She pauses for just a moment, looking from Luke to Anya and grinning before she comments, "Hot sweetheart of a boss an' a friendly, sexy chica pourin' drinks, an' much better tips — This beats my last job all an' everyway."
"Since when did you get an HR department?" Anya retorts, and the grin on her face tells all. It's all in good fun, after all! "Messy, too much meat, this is just begging for a call our post."
The sarcasm is strong with this one.
"I dunno," she finally answers, and dips back behind the bar. "If it was me, I totally forgot. My head's been all over the place. NYU's graduating me early, and it's been a cluster f…"
As she moves to help the next patron, her eyes slip past the swear jar.
"… a cluster."
It is possible that she's blushing, just a little. "Slayer," she says to Becca, and throws up a fist for the bumping before she goes back to check on the folks seated at the bar.
"Oh wait…" says Luke, "I AM the HR department. Huh, well…then I guess you're in the clear." He gives Anya a wink as he walks towards the bar, slipping behind it and starting to fill a glass of water. "Just, try not to scare away the customers, or the other staff."
He looks at Becca and lifts one shoulder into a shrug, "Then again, it seems the other staff is following suit so all bets are off. I think I am being ganged up on here."
Becca joins Anya in that fist-bump, grinning and giving her a wink, before turning and heading away from the bar to check on one of her tables, putting just a tiny bit of extra sway into her hips as she walks. How does she manage to look so effortlessly light on her feet, especially in those heels, anyway?
With a finger, Anya points toward her own chest with an over exaggerated, open mouthed silent 'me??'. She fills a patron's drink, grinning. "You called the event, hombre. I'm just here for the tips." She glances about at some of the well dressed patrons present, still grinning. "And the eye candy."
Luke Cage chuckles, "Well, I am sure there will be enough of that to go around tonight." says Luke as he takes a sip of his water and starts to head back towards the back room. "I'll make sure to give you a tip later."
He looks over to Becca and smiles, "I'd say keep her in line, but somehow I think that would just end up with the blind leading the blind…so just, try not to get me shut down." He pauses and shrugs, "But I doubt that is going to be an issue. I'll be back later." he utters as he slips back into the back room
Catseye arrives dressed formally, though 'appropriately' depends on how one feels about tight purple leather as a material for an evening gown. Still, she has the height and the lean muscled build to pull a dress like that off and the tight purple leather is almost enough to distract from the fluffy lavender tail. Almost. She makes her way over to the bar, heading off to the side a bit so she can lean against the bar and still watch most of the room. Sitting with her back to the room puts her fur on end. When the bartender makes their way over, she'll flash a smile and drop a pair of bills on the bar. "Will start with an Afterburner. Please let me know when that runs out."
Pausing before he hits the back room, Luke glances over as the purple leather clad person with a tail arrives. Seeing as Anya and Becca are busy with other customers out at the tables, Luke makes his way back behind the bar and goes to serve the woman in question.
"Afterburner you said? Coming right up." Luke says as he slides the bills under a glass in front of her to mark who they are from.
Quickly and expertly he prepares the drink, sliding the mixed concoction over the bar. "Sure thing, Welcome to Luke's."
Catseye tosses back the shot as if she doesn't even feel the burn. "Thank you. Maybe a boilermaker next? Supposed to be meeting someone, but hasn't shown yet." And the boilermaker will take longer to drink. If she keeps doing shots, she'll be half way through the alphabet before her new sister even arrives, and where's the fun in that? She looks up at the bartender curiously, "And are you Luke? Or…?" She is working to -try- to sound normal, but her grammar is slightly off as if English isn't her first language perhaps? It isn't that she's drunk. Not as steady as she is on those heels.
With the jazz trio going on break, that puts Anya on music duty. This is likely to be a good thing for everyone, for she realizes that 7:30 PM is far too early for Cypress Hill. So she plugs in her phone and cues up a playlist developed just for this evening, starting with a tune by Mild High Club called 'Windowpane'.
(https://youtu.be/XZmQfE9LvQM)
Catching sight of someone with a tail, the young woman visibly brightens. "The one and only," she tells Catseye, answering Luke for him. "Best bar this side of the park." It's unclear whether she's talking about Central Park or Marcus Garvey Park, but she'll hold that to herself. "He's much better at making drinks than me, but that's because I make them too strong." She winks at Luke, then slips behind him to start rapidly dunking a tray full of dirty stemware.
"Is that why my bottles empty faster than I expect? I always thought that was jut Hod." says Luke with a chuckle as he pours the beer for the boilermaker, adding a shot of good Irish whisky into a glass.
Looking to Catseye he asks, "Inside or on the side? And yeah, I'm Luke, though I am sure there are more Luke's around despite what Anya says." He glances up at the change in music, a small smirk on his face. "But she is right about one thing, I do make better drinks than her."
Catseye's tail perks up in amusement at the banter. "On the side, please. Sharon, but most people call me Catseye." She lets her purple sunglasses slide to the end of her nose, and yup! Lavender, kitty-slitted eyes.
Pausing in her dishwashing, Anya looks on as Catseye lowers her shades. "Wicked!" she says, complimenting the woman with an appreciative expression. "Do you prefer Sharon or Catseye?" she asks, because sometimes what everyone says isn't always what the person actually likes.
"Of course it's Hod," she fires back to Luke, even though she's well aware that she's the one with the heavy pouring hand around here.
"Uh huh," says Luke with a look of disbelief and skepticism on his face. "I believe /some/ of it is Hod." he says as he looks behind him to Anya and gives her a good natured wink. "The rest…maybe I should put up cameras and just make sure."
He turns back to Catseye and smiles, "That is pretty unique! We had some purple bunny-type person in here not that long ago, but I think you are the first cat-lady."
He pauses. "Cat-woman? Cat-person?"
Catseye smiles, "Prefer Catseye actually. Sharon Smith is… paperwork, yes? Catseye is who actually lives day to day." She gives Luke a deadpan look, "Believe the correct term is feline-american." Then she chuckles, and her tail almost ties itself in a knot twisting in amusement. "Teasing. As long as is not kitty girl or worse, nekko-chan, really don't mind."
Coming back from delivering drink orders to the now-on-break musicians — and chatting with them for a couple of minutes about the local live-music scene — Becca gets her first real look at the feline fatale now sitting at the bar. Blue eyes go a bit wide — thankfully, while she's still outside Catseye's field of vision — before she composes herself and continues to approach the bar. "Um, hi," she says, managing to look friendly and intrigued as opposed to staring.
Luke Cage snorts, "Feline-American is is." He smiles, wiping down some condensation from the bar as he cleans up after the last drink. "I wouldn't even know what a…nicko-chan is to be able to use it, so no worries. What is that?"
Luke's watch beeps, and he glances down at the face and grumbles something under his breath. "Anya? Becca? I Need one of you to take over here for a bit. I have to handle something in the back. Delivery is in and I need to help move it."
"I like her," Anya says to Luke, especially when Catseye refers to herself as a feline-American.
"Your turn," Anya tells Becca, and swooshes from behind the bar to leave it to the newer employee. "Because I… am totally having my shift drink."
As Anya steps away, Becca calls out after her, "Um, I'm gonna have to yell for you if anyone wants anything complicated!" Simple, self-explanatory drinks she can handle, but she's only just started learning this part of the trade, mostly by assisting Luke. She might be experienced as a waitress, but a bartender, she is not.
Catseye says, "Neko-chan… is Japanese phrase used by American guys who watch too much anime and think being cat means being stupid, slutty, or both." From the eyeroll, Catseye has zero patience with guys like that, and possibly trending into the negative digits. She has already finished the shot of whiskey, but tis taking her time with the beer. She chuckles at Becca. "Don't worry. Will try to make beer last until Anya," She gives a slight questioning tilt of the head, making sure she got the names right, "Is back."
Logan steps into the bar, wearing a fluffy-collared bomber jacket, a pair of sunglasses, riding gloves and jeans. His heavy-treaded boots clunk on the floor as he makes his way up to the bar, his wild hair tousled from the cycle ride into the city. He finished his stogie outside, but the smell of it lingers on him, sharp and almost musky in its intensity. He grabs a toothpick, popping it in his teeth to keep the habit at bay.
"Heya, darlin'," he calls out to Rebecca, "Beer down this way. Draft, whatever's good. Take yer time, I ain't in no rush."
"I went t'school with some boys like that," Becca says to Catseye, with a roll of her eyes. "The kind that the closest they're ever gettin' to havin' a girl in their bed is those body pillows with half-naked Japanese cartoon women on 'em." She shakes her head, laughing a little, before Logan speaks up. She gives him a nod, a smile, and a gesture of acknowledgement, then grabs a clean glass from the rack and starts filling it from one of the row of taps.
Anya's shift drink appears to be a tall glass of Espolon silver, over a single chunk of ice. She plops down at the bar, nodding her head briefly to make sure Becca knows that she's still got her back.
After a few moments of listening to the conversation, she snorts a laugh. "I know just the type," she says, and barely manages to stifle the eye roll. Her nose, however, picks up a familiar scent, and she turns to look Logan's way, eyes going all screwy for a moment. "My uncle smokes those," she remarks, and the expression on her face suggests that she isn't sure whether this is a good thing or a bad thing.
Catseye nods to Becca, "Exactly." Then Logan orders his drink, and she smiles at Becca. "Go on, After the beer, can teach you to pour a chocolate rush." She's patient, she has her beer to finish. The smell of the cigar makes her wrinkle her nose for a moment, but she doesn't comment… if she started commenting on scents she'd never stop.
Logan nods, "Ain't sure if I should compliment his taste or not. I like 'em, but they ain't for everybody. I got a real good sense o' smell, so I smoke those to kinda dampen it down. Makes it so the world don't smell like feet so much," he says.
He takes the beer when offered him, putting forty bucks down on the table, "Just make that my tab paid in advance. I'll work through it, don't you worry, with enough fer a tip.
Dress well, the advertisements said.
Starfire dresses VERY well, thank you. She knows humans have their own opinions of how she dresses, but their fashion is downright Victorian by her standards, so she ignores it. She strolls into Luke's wearing what would be formalwear on her world: a sleeveless crop top with a high neck and a diamond-shaped cutout held shut by an egg-sized green gem, a pair of hip-hugging bikini bottoms, and thigh-high boots, all made of a vaguely rubber-looking violet material that her natural glow doesn't peek through, all decorated with a semi-metallic silver trim that matches her armlets and bracers. As her sole concession to Earth fashion, she has a tiny silver evening purse as well, though any woman looking at the way it bounces airily on its straps when she walks can tell there's nothing in it, like a child with a play purse despite how expensive it probably is.
A bright (metaphorically bright) smile is on her face as she strolls up to the bar, aware of yet disinterested in the stares she garners. People tend to part for her in a bit of a panic until they realize the flame at the end of her knee-length hair is illusory. To the bartender, she greets, "Yes, hello, dispenser of libations! I would like one intoxicant, please."
"Yeah," Anya agrees, echoing the sentiment that such a smell isn't exactly pleasing but it isn't displeasing either. However, when Logan mentions the world smelling like feet, her face gets all screwy again. "Querido Dios, I don't blame you. Feet's a step up from vom, but barely."
At this newest arrival, Anya's deep eyes widen, and she stares in both fascination and appreciation. It's when Koriandr speaks that she recognizes Becca is potentially in over her head. Downing the rest of the shift drink as if she's been drinking since she was 15, the young woman bounces to her feet and is about to slide around the bar, when a guy walks up to her and gets her attention.
"Hey! Sorry to bother you, but, I'm Jack, with The Outlines."
"The-" Anya asks, then blinks. "Oh! The band!"
"Where can we load in?"
Welp, Becca… looks like you're on your own.
Nodding to Logan, Becca says, "You don't like that one, lemme know an' I'll getcha somethin' else. But I know Luke likes that, an' I trust his taste." Her accent isn't exactly thick, but she definitely sounds like a Texas girl.
And then the megahot alien chick makes her entrance, and all Becca can do for a few seconds is stare. By the time the woman makes her way up to the bar, she's recovered enough to function, if not enough to stop looking at Starfire almsot to the exclusion of being aware of anyone else. "Um, okay, um, comin' right up," she replies, and sets about drawing another glass of the beer she just served Logan.
Luke Cage wanders back in, clapping his hands together as if to get some dust or dirt off of them. He glances over at Anya, who is enjoying her shift drink and then to Becca behind the bar.
"You doing ok back there, Becca?" he asks, moving over towards the bar proper to lend a hand if need be, "I'll be happy to he…"
There is a pause as Starfire strolls into the bar. The large man blinks, and shakes his head as if to clear a vision before he takes another look.
"lp." he finally finishes as he turns his head towards Becca. He clears his throat and adjusts the bow tie at his throat as he moves behind the bar to help Becca.
Catseye hides a smile behind her beer when Koriandr makes her no longer the strangest thing in a room. Cat lady in purple leather dress is a lot less strange than a 3/4s naked golden skinned woman with flaming hair. She nods to Luke, "A chocolate rush when have a moment, please."
Logan responds to Koriand'r in the only way appropriate to the old Canucklehead.
"God DAMN," he says, sipping on his beer.
'Nuff said.
Koriand'r is not one of those women who doesn't know (or pretends she doesn't know) how gorgeous she is. She basks in the attention given, greeting each stare with a warm smile. Becca's poleaxed gape is her favorite, though, a stare that makes Koriand'r's smile widen into nearly a laugh. She leans over the bar, one elbow propped on it for support, as her drink comes; she has no idea what it is or what its effects on her will be, because she has no idea what human recreational poisons will do to her physiology. She maybe should have asked Reed if he had any guesses, but she's sure it will be fine. Koriand'r's golden fingers reach across the bar not for her drink but to brush lightly against the lacy fabric of Becca's dress and the gem or glass or paste bead or whatever it is just over Becca's navel. "I admire your dress very much," she greets, ignoring the glass of unlabeled intoxicant for now. The dress is more interesting.
Luke Cage casts eyes over towards Logan and snorts, "You said it. I've seen some interesting things in my time, but…yeah."
Luke glances at Becca and Kori as Kori starts to get personal with the staff and watches for any sign that Becca is unsettled by the attention, not saying anything for now but monitoring the situation as he starts to make some drinks for the other patrons.
Sliding a chocolate rush in from of Catseye, Luke plucks up the empty glasses from in front of her and dumps them in the tub to be cleaned. "Friend of yours?" he asks Catseye as he nods over towards Kori, "Or just admiring the view like the rest of us."
"Never met before." Catseye takes her drink and sips it, "But takes attention off me, yes?" From the upright curl of her tail she's amused, not upset. She mms at the taste of the drink. Cream and chocolate, never a bad thing. "At least don't have to worry she's hiding a weapon in that." Of course, to Catseye's view, that makes it more likely the woman herself is a weapon, but… Catseye may be slightly paranoid about such. And Koriandr seems friendly, if perhaps overly so.
Meanwhile, Anya is actually helping the band to load in; five piece by the look of it, drums, keys, guitar, bass, and a singer. Mixed races, with a female bass player and drummer. For her part, Anya is hauling in amps as if it's nothing to her, considering her otherwise slender frame. The evening gown she's wearing clearly has a detachable section to the floor length skirt, and when it's detached, it's clearly a mini underneath. When she lifts those amps though, muscles that weren't really there before are bulging.
Becca… is not entirely sure what to do as the goddesslike alien reaches toward her. Okay, you can strike that 'entirely', as she has no freaking clue whatever, and her brain is pretty much locking up for at least a second or two. "Um… Thank you," comes the almost automatic response, tumbling from her lips in something not quite a mumble. She doesn't seem so much to be objecting in any way as just plain flummoxed by the attention she's getting. And maybe even, on some level, astonishedly liking it.
Koriand'r takes pity on the helpless Becca and draws back across the bar. She runs a hand through her hair to realign it (it has a tendency to fall to the right when she leans forward like that), picks up her drink, and sniffs it curiously. Sugary and astringent at the same time, which is odd but kind of nice. She purses her lips and puffs on it, blowing hard to leave a little indentation in the water; she believes this releases the scent from deeper in the drink, where more of the flavor is. Maybe she's right.
"Hm. I do not believe I am yet intoxicated. Why would the inebriation only occur in liquid form rather than gas?" she asks Becca, and, as she waits for an answer, raises the glass to her lips and sips. To judge by her unwavering eye contact with Becca, she's not terribly affected by the flavor, positively or negatively. Or maybe she's just focused.
Luke keeps glancing over at Becca and Kori to make sure his cocktail waitress is doing alright, given the situation. At least the owner/bouncer/bartender keeps an eye on things as best he can.
"Becca, you doin ok over there? Need anything?" he asks, checking in before he turns his attention partly back towards Catseye, "That it does, not that you aren't an attention getter in your own right, but she glows. Hard to miss." Not to mention the outfit, but that just goes unsaid. "I don't think she is hiding much of anything, weapon or otherwise." he replies to the later part of Catseye's comment.
Luke casts a glance Anya's way, making sure she is doing alright as well as she is helping the band, "Careful, Anya. I don't want you bursting a seam or anything."
He glances back towards Kori, "I think it is safe to say you aren't exactly from around here, are you miss?"
For Becca, there's no escaping that eye contact. She looks somewhere between 'mesmerized' and 'moth drawn to flame', really. "Um… because it's a drink?" Brilliant answer. Deeply insightful. Yeah, Becca Has Left The Building. Or at least her own skull, mostly.
Catseye chuckles softly, "Think Becca might need a rescue?" She looks at Luke questioningly. After all, he knows his employees. Catseye is the stranger here.
Koriand'r nods wisely at Becca. "That is full of sense," she agrees. When Luke approaches, she smiles guiltlessly and guilelessly up at him, one of very few humans she can do that to, a touch that sends a nostalgic pang through her heart. "Oh, hello friend. No, I am not from here. I am from" Her face goes blank for half a second, and then guilt every bit as obvious as the feeling of fond remembrance that crossed her face a moment ago stains what tries to be a friendly, natural smile. "Malta," she concludes. "I am from Malta. It is an island. Far from here, so I doubt you know anyone from there."
Koriand'r, master of the deceptive arts.
Her smile becomes more natural as she asks, "And you, are you from here?"
Finishing with the band, Anya heads back over toward the bar. "Come on, dude," she tells him, "I'm not-" Then she realizes that she's exposed her legs far too early in the evening. "Shit!"
She suddenly doubles back, rushing toward the side entrance and where she'd hung the extra skirting, and is hastily reattaching it to herself when she comes back over toward the bar where everyone else seems to have gathered.
She considers for a moment whether to take Becca's place behind the bar, but no. Not just yet. She sidles up to an empty seat and watches with smug enjoyment.
Luke Cage shrugs a shoulder to Catseye as he glance towards her, then back to Becca. "Unknown. She is used to being hit on, I'm sure about that…but maybe not like this."
He arches a brow as he looks over towards Kori, "…Malta…". Luke seems more amused than anything as his lips purse into a slight grin with a chuckle emitting from his throat, "No, you are correct. I don't know anyone from Malta. Do all Mataizians look like you? It's an interesting tan you get over there."
He nods, "To answer your question, though, yes. I'm from here. This is my place, I own the bar. Luke Cage."
He glances back towards Anya and stifles a laugh, "You were saying something, Anya? What was that?"
The door to the bar opens, and another woman enters along, just as startlingly purple-clad as her lavender-tailed sister before her. Taller than Catseye, this woman is mocha-skinned, raven-haired, and packing devastating curves into a gold-trimmed purple leather asymmetrical dress; it's quite the fashion statement, to be sure. Trust the off-duty stripper to go for broke.
"Hi." Pris offers as she slides up behind Catseye, embracing her from behind and resting her cheek against the other woman's briefly. "Sorry I'm late. I had to deal with a problem. How far through the alphabet are you?" Her tiny gold clutch is opened as she fishes out several smaller bills and lays them on the bar. "Hi. Whichever letter she left off with, I'll take the next one."
Catseye lights up at Priscilla's arrival, and actually purrs, rubbing her cheek up against Priscilla. "Just finished Chocolate Rush. Waited to order food… FriendHank says the ribs are very good." She smiles up at Priscilla, "Been trying drinks, not shots, didn't want to get too far ahead." She tilts her head, looking over Pris carefully, then decides that whatever problem she was dealing with was dealt with without harm to Pris, so the purring resumes.
Luke gets a look. It's the same look he got moments before getting webbed in the face; fortunately for him, Anya is in a gorgeous blue evening gown, as opposed to black and white webdex. So, when her hand rises from the matching clutch at her side, and swings Luke's way, there's a quarter sailing over his head, bouncing off a bottle of Blanton's, and dropping right into the swear jar.
"You need a break back there, Texas?" she asks of Becca, before sliding her attention toward Catseye and Priscilla. She grins at their outward display of affection in a happy way, and it seems to brighten her up even more; a ray of sunshine through the clouds of sass. However, something catches her ear, and she leans toward them. "Are you two seriously going through the alphabet?" she asks. "If you make it to Z without vomming, Z's on me."
"You want D, D it is. Dark and Stormy." says Luke as he starts to make a dark and stormy for Pris. "You pooling your resources, or are these going to be on separate tabs?" asks the large bartender.
Luke looks over to Catseye and says, "So, are you going for E, or do you want the D as well? If you are going for E, how about an Exhilaration? Lemon juice and Volare creme de menthe., unless you had other ideas."
He grins at Anya, stifling a laugh, but only barely.
Catseye hmmms, "Was going to go with Electric Lemonade. Lemon and creme de menthe do -not- go together." Catseye has opinions! "And order of ribs. One tab." After all, Pris doesn't know how much she threw down already, but the ribs will cut into that a little. She grins at Anya, "Might not make it through alphabet… might get bored… bar fight break out… life is uncertain, yes? But fun!"
Koriand'r thinks about Luke's question for a long time. "Many are less tall than I am," she decides, then hastily and oh-so craftily turns the conversation toward safer waters. "It is my pleasure to meet you, Luke Cage." Luke: light-giving. Cage: a barred confinement. Koriand'r isn't sure if that means something, but she notes it all the same, her cogitation marked by a slight narrowing of the eyes as she greets, "I am K— Kory Anders."
She's so bad at this. She remembers her drink and sips it to cover her embarrassment. Still tastes fine. She keeps her eyes on Luke, since Becca seemed not to be terribly enjoying her attention.
Luke's exchange with The Maltese… (whatever rhymes with 'Falcon' and describes Kori, which must exist in some language, though maybe not any on Earth) at least breaks the eye contact between the alien and Becca, allowing the blonde to recover her senses somewhat. Looking at Anya, she almost begs, "Um, yeah. Take over. Please?" Neither Anya nor Luke have ever seen her quite this shade of red before. It nearly matches her dress.
A graceful figure moves through the door at that point, wearing a shimmering red dress as well as a warm-looking fur-lined coat since, well, it is nearing winter after all. Angela glances around, her auburn hair flowing free over her shoulders as she slips off her coat. She glances over towards Luke, and gives him a slight smile, "I was told that there'd be a karaoke machine?"
An odd thing, that voice… well, not necessarily odd, but while Luke hears her speaking in English, other people would hear her speaking in whatever their native tongues would be. Even if they aren't from Earth.
Luke Cage nods to Catseye, "Alright, Electric Lemonade and an order of ribs it is. Have a preference on vodka? You know what, never mind. I'll surprise you."
Luke places the Dark and Stormy in front of Pris and goes about fixing the drink for Catseye, glancing over at Kori as he continues the conversation as he works. "A pleasure to meet you as well, Kory. Any native Maltizian drink I can attempt to make for you, you know, to remind you of home."
The mention of a karaoke machine causes Luke to glance over and shrug a shoulder as he places the Electric Lemondade down in front of Catseye, "Maybe later, but the band just got set up. The have their set for about 45 minutes, then I think during the break they were going to roll out the machine. Is that right, Anya?"
"I can —" Pris starts, but then she catches the look from Catseye; after a long, hard moment of eye contact, she relents with a tiny half-shrug, and picks up her drink to sip at the Dark and Stormy. Pris is no more affected by alcohol than Catseye is. But this was the game her new sister wanted to play, so play they shall. "Ribs?" Dressed like this? But Pris does not argue. Question, yes. Argue, no. Besides, they're supposed to be delicious; everyone's emotions spiked at their mention. So be it.
This is so out of her element. And the last time she went to a party like this. Well. She ended up more stretched out than she ever thought. As Kamala stands at the door, she's trying to figure out if she should finish stepping in, and looking over her salwar kameez one more time. It's a new one, freshly cleaned and pressed, and as she reaches up to tug on her scarf for a moment, she finally braves entering fully to find a place to sit.
Current Outfit: https://66.media.tumblr.com/c8cd06bee32c5d4df49c06db593aa777/tumblr_nl9kj7GNeA1sqnekuo1_1280.png
Anya slips back behind the bar, but as she goes past Rebecca, she mutters something toward her ear. Following the utterance, her lips are curled into a position that is typically associated with misbehavior of a sort, even though she shows no outward signs of such a thing otherwise.
As it starts getting later, more people are showing up. "Hello, welcome to Luke's!" she says to some new arrivals, but she seems a bit confused when Luke asks her for clarification when she clearly heard Angela speaking in conversational Spanish.
"Uhhh… yeah, I think so," she answers, giving him a weird look before turning back to help others with their orders.
The door springs open again, this time to admit Hercules! Impressively, he's even tried to go for something reasonably formal — which, in this case, means he's wearing a white silk shirt over his broad chest (as opposed to a leather strap). His bearded face is split in a broad, boyish smile, as he looks about the barroom before noticing Angela.
"I see, Angela, you weren't joking about the bar," Hercules says to Angela with a grin. "It does have that 'home away from home' quality to it."
Angela moves towards the bar, grinning over her shoulder at Hercules, "Yes, it definitely has a certain flair, it's hard to find that these days." That said, she leans up against the bar and looks over at Anya, "Thank you kindly."
With that, she then looks over towards Luke, arching a brow towards him as she smiles, "What exactly would you recommend? Though from the letters… A isn't for Absinthe, is it?"
Taking a brief moment to leave the bar as the drink orders seem to be caught up at the moment, Luke vanishes into the kitchen only to re-emerge a few moments later with a plate of ribs and all the fixings. He sets the platter down in front of Catseye and Pris, sliding a couple of sets of utensils, napkins and wet wipes on the bar as well. "Y'all want some bibs? You know, to help keep you from getting sauce on your outfits."
Luke glances up as more people arrive, and takes a second look at Herc. It isn't often Luke sees someone his size and build, so he takes notice of the god. "A can be whatever you want that starts with 'A', Ms. If you plan on joining these two in drinking the alphabet, just name your preference and I am sure Anya or I can make it for you, or at the very least google it if we don't know it off hand."
Catseye grins at Priscilla, "Leather cleans up, but white lace would not keep Catseye from eating a good plate of ribs. Besides, here to have fun, yes? Not to let others say what fun is or is not." She accepts her drink from Luke with a warm smile, before turning back to Pris. "Have good food, try new drinks, listen to music, maybe dance, maybe not, but have -fun-. Things been FAR too serious lately, fun is better, yes?"
THE OUTFIT: Black leather bolero half-jacket, tight to accent Roxanne's whipcord form. Silver crucifix necklace (meaning: lost). Crop-cut tee-shirt (white, "ELLOU" exposed in text that probably spells "SELLOUT"). Midrift's half-exposed, enough to lend sight to the silvery ring piercing her navel. A black leather almost-mini tucks in around her hips, and her legs are bare down to the chunky black ankle boots she's wearing.
"Man! It's like we never even left La Jolla, you know?" Roxy pushes through the door to Luke's, face a beacon of hope and eagerness, a look that any experienced bouncer would immediately recognize as a tell for somebody carrying a newfound fake ID. "Like you know how you always wanna have a neighborhood spot but ya CAN'T—" There are dozens of neighborhood places in La Jolla. Every single one of them has a regular who recognizes Roxy. As per her usual, she's creating her own problems.
5'6 and absolutely checking out the bar to see who's checkin' her out - check her out! - Roxy takes a seat at the bar. "You guys have that Jungle Juice stuff here?" She's batting a thousand. Roxy reaches into her bag and withdraws a box of Camels. With the perception and wariness of somebodby who wants to smoke more than she wants to be proven wrong, she looks around for Signage.
Whatever Anya whispered to Becca, it set the blonde's just-starting-to-fade blush alight again. But, hey — New arrivals! Something for her to do besides feel like a deer in Kori's, umm, headlights. Grabbing her order pad and a pen, she slips out from behind the bar and goes to meet the newcomers, get them seated if they aren't already finding where they want to be on their own, and start taking orders.
This part, Becca's good at.
"Fun is always better." Pris offers, leaning close and nuzzling at the lavender-haired girl's hair. "Alright. Fair enough. We don't worry about the mess." Easier said than done, but Pris can at least resist letting her worry show, and push through it.
To the bartender, Priscilla asks, "You have a favorite F? Let me have it, and give Catseye a G. If you have any cornbread to go with those ribs, we'll take some of that too."
That said, the bodaciously curvy mocha-skinned woman in purple leather turns around for a bit, people-watching while she waits for her next drink.
"<I'm a wizard at google>," Anya agrees, assuring both Luke and Angela of this, but the words are in Spanish.
The band is finally ready to play. As they start, it proves to be an interesting blend between R&B and modern rock, with a subtle EDM element. Nothing too fast or loud at first, but definitely a song that'll get people into a good groove.
Roxy definitely catches Anya's eye, for this is similar to how she would normally dress, if it weren't for the whole formal gown thing. However, she's played this very game herself, suggesting that she has in fact been drinking since she was 15. "Nah, no smoking in here," she calls over to Roxy, "Unless you're a steaming pile of ribs slathered in barbecue ready to be noshed, and if that's the case, light on up."
"I am unfamiliar with drinks her. In America," Koriand'r amends hastily. Obviously she's familiar with Earth drinks! She's from Earth! "So I will drink this drink." She lifts her glass to display it to him, as if Luke hadn't already seen the drink several times. She regretfully watches Becca flee oer the rim of the cup, but oh well, the night is young.
Koriand'r turns her back to the bar to scan the crowd. She lifts off the ground, literally levitating six inches higher in the air, when she spots Roxy, and her bioluminescent glow noticeably brightens in time with her delighted grin, but realizationor rather, rememberancecomes over her face at the same time she covers her smile with her hand until she can get it under control. She forces herself back down to the ground and, once she feels composed, just raises her glass of whatever to Roxy from across the bar without saying anything.
Herc follows Angela to the bar, his eyebrows rising when he sees Luke. Oh ho, there is a fellow who shares some common interests, judging by his shoulders and arms. He grins, settling next to Angela, and politely looks over the beer selection before picking out an ale that looks promising. His cheerful gaze sweeps around the bar, checking out both the men and the women — the women, especially, but that's Herc for you.
"Roxy! You can't SAY that, people will think you're a RACIST!"
The terse, painfully liberal whisper originates with the towering and irksomely beautiful Glamazon redhead accompanying Roxy, the one wearing a dress that's very Holly Golightly if only Audrey Hepburn's arms had been enormous and also her - well, if something else on her had been enormous, as well.
(She isn't wearing opera gloves, because those are White Tie more than Black Tie. Plus, good luck finding a pair of satin gloves that fit you when you're her size.)
"And you can't smoke in here!" she ammends, snatching away her sister's pak of cigarettes. "In New York City, it's illegal to smoke in almost all indoor locations except for those with special distinction as cigar and cigarette bars where tobacco is sold on-premises and constitutes a significant percentage of total sales revenue!"
Angela, for her part, is also glancing around curiously at the various people present, though without the… intensity, of the God of Strength. Fairchild's diatribe about the specific legal codes regarding smoking earns her a soft chuckle, as the redhead shakes her head a bit. She then glances over at the bar, hmmming a bit at the drink selection, then flags down the nearest server to say, "I'll have a Moscow Mule, if you please. That seems good for a cold evening such as this."
Catseye grins at Priscilla, and takes one of the ribs, very sharp, very white teeth neatly stripping the meat from the bone, then licking the sauce off her fingers. It's very much like someone taught a large predator manners, but couldn't get them to -quite- take it seriously. Her tail loops with amusement, and Pris can probably guess it's at Fairchild and Roxy due to the timing, but it's not likely someone else could tell. She tells Priscilla very seriously, "Deserve to have fun and have good things. Will keep telling Pris until believe it." Then smiles again, "Music is good… different, but like it." Catseye's relaxing, so the pronouns are slipping. She never did get the hang of pronouns, except possessives… 'mine' is very natural to a cat.
"Alright, one 'Funky Monkey' and one gin and tonic coming up." says Luke as he goes about to start making the drinks. For the gin and tonic, Luke pours a purplish gin into the glass before gracing it with some tonic that turns the color into a pinkish hue, before he garnishes it with a wedge of lime before it is passed over to Catseye. The funky monkey's ingredients of chartruse, vanilla liquor, lime juice, orange juice, with a top off of ginger beer are poured into a collins glass and passed over to Pris.
He glances over at Anya, and cocks his head since he doesn't understand what it is she said. "Uh, sure, Anya. Whatever you say. Listen, I need to head in the back and start with some more ribs. Hob's not in and we are running low. Something tells me we are going to get busier. You got this?"
SO MUCH HAPPENS. It's Kori! Clearly intent on showing the alien superhero that there aren't any hard feelings, Roxy sticks her tongue out at the firey gal, throws her the horns in a display of solidarity that may just go entirely misunderstood. HAY GURL. COME HANG OUT.
"I -got- ribs, and a few guys on the way over said I was smokin'… that's somethin', right? I-" She's frowning even while she tries to haggle with Anya, because she's pointedly ignorant but not *stupid*. Bleh. Fairchild will find zero resistance when she swipes at her sister's cigarettes, and now the Glamazon's got a pack of Camels and a shitty Bic lighter. PICKPOCKET: SUCCESSFUL.
"J- CAIT. It's like you've never even been at a party! People're gonna think YOU'RE RACIST if you keep it up. We gotta get you out. Like. You'd kill it at parties, you know?" Roxy runs a hand through her hair, tucking pink bangs behind one ear, and attempts to get her -drinks- from Anya. Again.
Smile, smile.
Roxy's leaning forward onto the bar, palms-down, ready to haggle. "So, yeah. That Jungle Juice stuff, you do it? Or like, Vodka and Red Bull?" She jerks a thumb back at Fairchild. "My sis gets real fun when she's a little loosened up, promise~" That's right. Distract them with Caitlin. Never fails!
Formal. Wait, Mary Jane wanted to do something formal for a second date. Escorting the redhead on his arm, Miles Morales is dressed in all black. Black high-collared shirt, whith a black double-breasted tuxedo worn, the pants and jacket pressed. The only splash of color that is on the young man's ensemble is the pocket handkerchief that he has that matches dress of purple.
"You know, when you mentioned formal, I expected Policeman's Ball or somesuch." he says teasingly. "Though I know that's not for a while yet. Giving her a little nudge with his hip after opening the door to let Mary Jane enter before following her in, he's looking around the bar. "Been here before, last time I was here, there was a bartender here. She was lippy."
Yup! Formal was the name of the game, though Mary Jane really didn't come dressed to the nines. Her dress was all purple, with a cool black sequined border to match Miles. Her shoe was black as well, not to mention the big boot that could be barely seen under the gown that she wears. And a shaw. A shaw made with black lace adorns her shoulders, which was intended to keep the chill off of her back. "Well, nothing wrong with practicing!" Mary Jane pipps up, happy as ever.
As Miles allows MJ to enter first, she hobbles right on inside. There was no cane, crutches, nor scooter, so she's moving a bit slow than she usually would. Looking around the place, she creates a loow whistle, "Wish I was there with you." She comments. "Wonder if they'd mind if we take food to go…" At least the place had tons of seats!
"<Good choice,>" Anya tells Angela in Spanish, before glancing back toward Luke. "Go!" she shooes him, assuring him that between herself and Becca, they have this situation on lock.
While fixing the mule, Anya smirks Roxy's way. "Covered patio's back that way," she says, and points toward the hallway that leads to the restrooms, beyond which is a covered area for smokers.
After handing Angela her drink and quoting its price in Spanish, she swivels back over to Roxy without missing a beat. "No, it's gross as White Claw," she quips, then rolls her eyes at the vodka and Red Bull. "Basic. You like tequila?" Her eyes pivot briefly toward Caitlin, and as they do, she catches sight of Miles and MJ entering. This brightens her face a bit more than a simple new pair of customers might, but then, for some odd reason, the Latina is stammering and acting anxious. "Vodka and Red Bull, you said?" she asks Roxy, and is summarily distracted enough to not ask for ID.
Hercules glances over at Angela. "I take it back. This is MUCH better than when Dionysus throws a party. If the owner isn't a man of importance, he -should- be." The Greek god's eyebrows shoot up as he sees Fairchild go past, and he comments, "And /that/ lass looks like she could wrestle /me/." He grins impishly. "I think I'm going to feel right at home here."
She exhales a sharp and vaguely offended huff and folds her arms beneath her chest, shoulders squared, her lower lip pressed forward in something that could easily be read as a pout.
"I do not kill parties!" she asserts, followed almost immediately after with, "Roxy! You said it AGAIN! And you can't drink ANYway!" Caitlin puts her hand atop Roxy's on the bar as a means of preventing her from taking anything she's offered. "She's eighteen," she says to the bartender. "She can't drink. She's eighteen," she repeats, drumming it in. "My sister is only eighteen, so she can't drink."
'Kill parties,' indeed. Such nonsense.
Luke Cage nods to Anya, as he makes his way back towards the Kitchen, "Alright. Call me if things get to hectic!" he shouts over the crowd as he goes off to make more ribs
Koriand'r, already at the bar, makes an unsubtle beeline toward Roxy with arms flung wide as if to embrace her in a bear hug, but she stops short as she remembers her promise to herself and, awkwardly, returns her arms to her sides. Probably for the best; a bear hug while holding a glass of alcohol is apt to end poorly. "Roxy!" she greets lamely, hands tucked behind her back to remind herself to be good, drink spilling without her notice (or interest, really). "It is most enjoyable to see you again." In her attempt to restrain her exuberance, her cadence becomes robotic. "I am pleased to see you well."
Now very much in her element, Becca makes her way around and through the crowd with almost dance-like grace, looking almost impossibly light on her feet, even in those three-inch stilettos. She takes drink and food orders, jotting things down in that efficient shorthand intelligible only to those inducted into the Secret Order of Waitstaff, and somehow keeping it all straight which order belongs to which patron at which table. Before long, she's back behind the bar, pulling beers and fixing some of the simpler drinks herself, while passing the more complicated cocktails that require more levels in Bartender than she has over to Anya.
Angela grins over at Hercules, "Honestly, I'm surprised it took you that long…" She nods over towards Anya, sliding her a credit card to keep a tab going, then she glances over and spots, "Miles! Didn't expect to see you here!" She waves over towards Miles and MJ, asiding to Hercules, "Miles is a very talented artist, so I decided to take him on as an appren… er, intern. They call them interns now." She grins a little sheepishly at that, while waiting for the pair to (hopefully) come over.
At Fairchild's warning, Anya seems taken aback, shocked at her own distraction. She shakes her head and says to Roxy, "You won't get away with that shit in here. Swear Jar's for Luke, not me. My ass ain't gettin' this place fined, not on my watch. You want a Shirley Temple?"
Without missing a beat, Anya slides a napkin and a pen across the bar toward Koriandr. "Name and number. I'll be sure to get it to Rebecca. It's now or never, amiga, let that liquid courage do its thang."
Angela's card is taken up into a free hand, and Anya makes eye contact and a swift nod before tucking it away in a box by last name. Then she's off to fill those orders left behind by Rebecca, and yeah… she's a heavy pour indeed.
"Y-yeah," intones Roxanne, all quaky confidence and bluster. "Tequila's cool, too. You got any of that Resopado or whatever? It's brown and tastes REAL good…" Yeah, girl. Use your crazy booze knowledge! Ignore the eyebrows that have shot up into the teen's chemically-treated bangs; she's just… there's a moment where the cat gets to lick up the cream and it's not entirely sure it's OK, and we're here right now. Alarm and wariness fade into exultant glee when she's pretty damn positive she's about to get her heart's desire… and Cait…
oh no Cait…
NO, CAIT…
"Ohmigod you've been doing this ever since I got my hair dyed! I'm twenty-two…" Wait, what's the card say again? "Twenty-ONE, and my birthday's…" Roxy's talking out of her ass. She's gone in TOO FAR. She didn't memorize her ID. "NOT GONNA CHANGE, SIS." Roxy presses her point to the bartender, and sort of *SHOVES* into Cait because *STOPPIT* but a familiar voice behind her has Roxy pausing.
She glances over a shoulder, and then - oh! Kori made it over! Kori's acting weird. It means the alien supergirl gets to watch Roxy's lavenders narrowing in distracted suspicion… the Cait thing happens ALL THE TIME, it's old news. "…You OK? You were like all Evanescence back at the Baxter Building…" She is LEGITIMATELY worried.
So worried that when Anya lays into her, Roxy just sliiides her fake ID across the bar.
"RAIMEE DARNGOSH - 02/02/1999 - IRVINE, CA" There is a picture of this person on the ID. https://s3.amazonaws.com/medium.cosplay.com/238685/3288544.jpg
The god takes a long pull off his mug, before chuckling. "I try to bide my time as best I can these days. I used to be a great deal more impulsive, remember?" Hercules's gaze follows Angela's, and he raises a hand in greeting to Miles and MJ, smiling broadly. He does pause to glance over at where Roxie and Fairchild appear to be having a bit of an argument. "I wonder what the problem is over there?" Though admittedly, his interest is mostly so he can check out Fairchild again.
"I'm pretty sure we can probably grab something to go. Just don't order the po-boy. Apparently that breaks the whole system." Miles chuckles. "Though it might have been Gwen's burger." he admits as he grins aside to Mary Jane. "Though I'm sure you have to keep your Wattages happy." Watsons. But he's not really paying that much attention to her social media. Noticing Angela, Miles raises his free hand. "Hey, come on, you can meet my boss." he offers to Mary Jane, angling over to where the God and Angel are hanging out.
"Evening, Miss Carpenter." he greets Angela politely. "Uh. Know I was supposed to be at the shop tonight, but well.." there's a glance to Mary Jane. Worth it. So worth it. "This is Mary Jane. Mary Jane, this is Angela Carpenter. She gave me something to put my art towards."
Angela smiles warmly, "Oh, that's fine Miles, and please, here you can just call me Angela." She nods over towards Mary Jane, offering her a hand, "Pleased to meet you. I run a studio over in SoHo, and well, after seeing Miles' work I decided to offer him an internship." She grins, and then gestures over towards the God next to her at the bar, "Oh, and this is an old friend. Hercules, this is Miles, and Mary Jane." There, introductions all around.
Wait, did she just say Hercules?
Koriand'r nods formally, once, chin dipping, rising, then returning to center (or at least as close to center as it can get, given the height difference). "I am very well. But I also caused you much distress by not observing your cultural norms, so I am restraining myself as a form of apology with the intent to do better." It's so WEIRD, that he voice would be so stilted and formal but the regret and shame and hope on her face would be so plain and… is she glowing less? Her gold aura is nearly gone, her skin darkening toward orange. "I value your company and wish to express my respect in the manner of your people."
She apparently thinks Earthlings show respect through complete repression. Which… technically she's not wrong?
"Did you say this woman is your sister? Hello, friend Roxy's sister. I am pleased to make your acquaintance," Koriand'r says to Fairchild, bobbing her head in something like a bow, hands still firmly behind her back.
In a turn of events that will no doubt both shock AND astound the collected patrons of the bar, being slammed into by a 5'6" girl with a build generously described as "yeah, y'know, it's okay for - like, for you, knowhamean babe?" by ~The Love of Roxy's Life~ goes entirely unnoticed by the 6'6" redhead who is through some bizarre fluke of genetics her sister - described by the very same gentleman as "woah, babe, check those out" - until she happens, in the corner of her eye, to realize that Roxy is moving back away from her.
And then, in service to Roxy's self esteem Caitlin goes, "Ow! Don't push me, that, it hurts?"
You can just *feel* the question mark at the end.
And, then:
"Oh my gosh, Roxy, that's SO illegal! And that - she doesn't… oh my gosh, Roxy, that's that girl who cosplays as you, isn't it!? That is SO dishonest!" A moment's pause and she whispers to Roxy, "Did you STEAL her ID!?"
In response to Hercules, Caitlin cooly and calmly disarms the situation. "What? Oh, no! No, it's - everything is, ah, it's just fine. My sister just… just, she must have picked up someone else's ID, is all."
"I want food to last me -dayyyys-.." It was almost sinister the way Mary Jane says it, the look of greed flashing over her eyes as she could just picture the burnt ends this establishment could produce. "I mean, as long as he doesn't use Open Pit, we're totally good. Meat for daaaaaayyyys.."
Miles would probably think that Mary Jane Watson was crazy. She just loved food.
"The Watsons. Waatsons.." She teases, clenching Miles' arm as she hangs on while he angles towards Angela and Hercules. With introductions gone out, Mary Jane responds in kind. Awkward probably, but in kind! "Hi, Mary Jane!" She shakes Angela's hand properly, then quickly offers a hand towards Hercules!
Totally missing it. Hercules.
"Hi Hercules! Mary Jane! Pleased to meet you! Thank goodness Miss Carpenter introduced you as a friend, I -almost- considered you her husband!"
Hercules certainly looks like his namesake; the shirt can't hide those muscles. But he takes MJ's hand in a gentle shake, grinning. "A pleasure to meet you two. Any friend of Angela's is a friend of mine." He raises an eyebrow at MJ, then chuckles. "We've been… what's the phrase? 'More than friends' many years ago. But I'm happy to be her friend and occasional landscaper as needed these days." He smiles fondly at Angela. "When you have as much time as we did, you learn to relax."
Herc glances over at Fairchild's nervous attempts to disarm things, and offers the glamazon a broad smile. "I'm sure you've got it managed. You seem like the take-charge sort."
After filling some of Becca's drink orders, Anya walks back over toward Roxy, a devil on her spiky heels who should not be able to move so well in them. She eyeballs the ID, then looks back to Roxy, sets the ID down and slides it across the bar to her.
The young woman rests her elbows on the bar, clasps her hands together, leans foward toward Roxy, and waggles a finger in the air, the universal 'come here' gesture. Her eyes are all mischief, lips painted blue curled into a smirk.
If Roxy does in fact lean forward, she'll speak quietly. Otherwise, it'll be loud enough for others nearby to hear. "I'm supposed to report this, but I don't like cops, and I really don't like it when cops come to really special events where I work and make people get all weird. I don't know if we'll get a good cop, or one of those… you know." She releases a hand, makes a fake gun, points it at her temple and squeezes the trigger, before spraying her fingers out as if they were entrails or gray matter getting sprayed everywhere.
Her hand then drops and slides the napkin and pen closer to Kori's edge of the bar, before tapping on it insistently.
"I see you around outside, we can totally brown bag it, but in here, rules are rules. Sorry, sister. Next time pack a flask." She winks and smiles, proving that she is perfectly capable of easily blending 'cool with it' and 'bitch' without fucking up the recipe.
To Anya, Roxy is… yeah, she gets it. Caitlin is by now writing a strongly-worded Reader's Digest article about the impressionable state of Teens in the U.S. and the availability of Moral-Weakening Sin Cards. She's definitely waving Roxy's hard-won ID around like it's a scarlet letter. She narrows eyes at Anya, but intones, quietly, "You better be serious. Gonna take you -up- on it." And then it's off to Kori!
"Hey, so you're a little bit Spock sometimes, that's OK! I get it. I been around the block a few times, I know how it can be. But you're actin' sorta like a square, like. You look like somebody pissed in your pants and it wasn't you, you know?" Roxanne reaches for a drink (a drink that IS NOT THERE) and sort of frowns in realization of her Cait-destroyed situation. Nonetheless, she leans in and wraps Kori up in a tight, slender-bodied hug.
The same gentleman referenced in Caitlin's exposition would be saying, right now, ‘Oh yeah. That’s gonna happen. I'm gonna be RIGHT THERE.` He would be wrong in about as many ways as Roxy is wrong about everything else, which is why, CAITLIN, that they are PERFECT FOR EACH OTHER.
Roxy disengages from Starfire and indicates one amazonian redheaded giantess to the other. "Cait! This is Kori. Kori, Cait! You're both awesome, you should get to know… each… other…" Maybe if Roxy HAD A DRINK she wouldn't feel so INADEQUATE right now. Between the two, effectively sandwiched between towering examples of overwhelming femininity, Roxy is desperate for anything, please, anything. ANYTHING else to focus on. She's already giving up on the bartender, considering Cait's holding her wallet!
She spins around and sees Hercules, who is exactly Hercules. "Ohmigod. Hercules? From NORWAY MYTHS?"
Koriand'r looks blankly at the offered napkin, then back at Anya. "Oh! Very well." She takes it and the accompanying pen, and draws a long, straight line across the width of the napkin. She then draws a series of lines dropping from the bottom of the horizontal line, some of them curling, some of them zig-zagging, several of them different widths: presumably, that is her name in the alphabet they use on the island of Malta. She then adds 'Kory Anders' in English, and her phone number, a land line of all things… but looking at Koriand'r, where do you think she carries a cell phone?
Koriand'r returns the napkin to Anya with a smilealways has a smile for someone, does Koriand'rand then is engulfed by Roxy's tiny hug. Startled, Koriand'r freezes for a quarter of a second before relieved delight takes her and she lets the formality melt. She hugs Roxy warmly (quite warmly, given the heat she outputs) and her glow brightens perceptibly. She smiles over Roxy's head at Caitlin and agrees, "You are Roxy's sister, so you must be awesome! Do you wish to partake of the hug?" she asks.
Angela glances over towards Roxy, and mildly says, "Greek, actually." Then she looks over at Hercules and grins, "Yes, that was a pretty fun time, in… Athens, wasn't it?" With that, she looks over at Miles, "Honestly, I hadn't expected to bump into him in New York, but he only recently arrived himself, so."
Reaching under the bar, Anya produces a dish full of trail mix. It's usually for the bar staff, but Roxy's not the only one who's bound to try and pull such a stunt tonight, and considering Anya just made an example of the poor kid, she's feeling generous. She also grabs a bottle of ginger ale, snaps it open against the edge of the bar in a spot where there is a metal strip for reinforcement, and offers it to her.
Meanwhile, the band has just finished their first set, leaving it open to the karaoke machine. The dude who is going to be DJing later sets up and announces that there will be karaoke. There are sign up slips and everything, and his catalogue is on an iPad and is even available through your favorite karaoke mobile app!
With an expression of great accomplishment, Anya snatches up the napkin, gives Kori an approving wink, and snaps a quick picture of it on her cell phone to be later delivered to Becca if, and only if, Becca doesn't get it herself. Then she's moving down the length of the bar, looking for others who might need drinks!
For his part, Herc looks vaguely crestfallen. "Yes. Greek." He looks at Angela in confusion. "How do people get me confused with the Aesir? I mean, there is worse company, and may Asgard stand for ten thousand more years, but still." He tugs absently on his beard. "Athens. It was a long time ago, for both of us." Shaking off whatever trace of melancholy was trying to steal into his thoughts, he drains his mug. "But I find New York is much more welcoming, if you know how to ask."
"Oh, I'm - I'm not that big on, ah, hugging, actually," Caitlin says in response to the proffered embrace with her hands extended in that gesture that's half 'I'm sorry, I appreciate this offer but choose to decline' and half 'Please don't touch me, strange person whom I do not know.'
"But - but yes, I'm Roxy's sister. Well, I'm her half-sister if you want to get technical - we have the same father and different mothers - and, well, we didn't actually meet until a few years ago but it's a, you know, I think it's a very sisters relationship that we very rapidly established."
And, not knowing what's been said, Caitlin jabs a finger into the back of Roxy's ribs. (But, you know, very gently. She knows her own strength. She doesn't break anything. That only happened, like, once.) "Stop trying to talk her into giving you alcohol!"
Oh. GREEK. Same thing. Roxy's face suggests a thousand truths she's somehow wise enough to hestiate before speaking. "Erh, uh. S-sorry, big guy. You're really good at the costume though! Almost hotter than Sorbo! I never wanted that series to END, yanno?" She manages a little fanning-out of her fingers along with a sheepish smile… and then there's a finger in her back.
"Wh? Oh, don't be a DICK at Kori! She's sweet! I think she learned from, like, our first time! She just wants a hug! It's how she says hi or somethin'. I think it's nice." Roxy looks to Kori and offers the stargirl a surreptitious wink, before pushing into Cait and slinging an arm around the Glamazon.
"Yeah, this is Cait. She's probably the LAMEST person I ever met…" This is all said with the sort of affection that money can't buy, and Roxy looks up at her sister with nothing but warmth. "…But she's cool, and she takes care of me, right? I'd be a total wasteoid if it wasn't for her. Even if she's kinda LAME sometimes." A skinny elbow pushes into Cait's ribs! Take that!
Roxy pivots on her heel, rocks back into the bartop, and looks over a shoulder at Anya, at the trail mix, at the ginger ale. There's a smile on her face, and she gets it. In a way, she feels like she's looking at a kindred spirit, maybe a lil' bit older. Total role model alert. Roxy puts some nuts in her face and looks back to Cait and Kori, to Hercules and Angela.
Parties are fun.
Koriand'r listens to Roxy's endorsement with a relief so intense it looks almost painful. God knows why, but hearing Roxy talk apparently sparks something inside her. When Caitlin passes on the hug, her face becomes politely wooden and she nods stiltedly. "I understand and respect your boundaries, friend Caitlin. Thank you for informing me of them." The words sound like they're coming from an HR rep; the delivery is that of a grade schooler in her first school play; but the intent is real, so at least her skin and hair don't dim. She's much more natural and engaged as she asks, "You place much emphasis on the separation of your familial bonds. Is it unusual to have a half-sister?"
Caitlin deeps a breath and seems prepared to elaborate on the meaning of her statements in that way that she always does that, you know, the way that's insanely condescending but not because she means to be condescending, just because she's weird and wasn't socialized properly.
And then she just hangs there for a moment, as if a routine crashed and she needs to reboot.
After a few moments she leans down to Roxy and asks, "Uhm. Did you - did you say, 'first time,' like - like, you… you know?"
Which, if you think about it, is a perfect example of her not being socialized properly.
Angela smiles slightly at Herc, giving him a sympathetic look, "I don't know, honestly, but it has been a long time for people, so they tend to forget such things." She reaches up and pats Hercules on the arm, then arches a brow at Herc, "Well, a long time ago, but not a bad time. At least, I didn't think so." She grins wryly, then looks over towards Roxy and Caitlin and Kori, not wishing to interrupt the current conversation.
While busy filling orders, Anya happens to catch a bit of the conversation between Angela and Hercules. It only now registers that she's hearing Angela in Spanish, while the man she's speaking with appears to be using English. An odd expression forms on her face for a moment, and she draws up to the two, waiting for a moment until at least Angela has noticed her.
"<Antoine is starting karaoke,>" she says in Spanish, and nods her head toward the karaoke booth. OF COURSE, the first person up has chosen to do Sweet Caroline, much to the chagrin of some and to the pleasing of others, but it does bring a cringe to Anya's face. "<If this keeps up,>" she mutters to herself in Spanish, "<I'm gonna have to do one myself and set a mood that isn't> dork-fest." The last word is uttered in English.
Herc lightly pats Angela's hand with a smile, before continuing to watch the byplay between Caitlin, Roxy, and Kori. Responding to Roxy's comments about Sorbo, he smirks faintly before calling over, "Sorbo's problem was that he didn't have a proper beard!"
"Sorbo didn't NEED a beard! His chin was PURE TIMBERLAKE."
Tease unleashed, Roxy watches Kori engage Caitlin, who is, so far as decorum goes… sort of an Advanced Target. Spaulding's cute lil' face lights up as Kori manages to not sound completely like a robot in saying hello *without* using her body - it's working! She's doing it! It's like watching a baby bird fly out of the nest…
"N-no! We're just… it's important sometimes, to, uh." Shit. Why DOES Cait always say half-sister? That's a weird way to do it! Roxy's almost got enough time to plant a little seed of doubt in the fertile soils of her outrageously fecound self-identity when Caitlin pipes up.
'did you say "first time," like - like, you… you know?' Roxy's eyes grow wider and wider as the catastrophic misinterpretation continues to worm its way into her consciousness. She looks to Fairchild, expression telling a story her words could never quite imitate, a clear aversion singing a song from the depths of those pretty violet eyes.
Sweet Caroline comes on.
"Will you get offa my case, Cait! I swear to God, you think I'm either tryin' to SMOKE or DRINK or get F-"
The bar collectively shouts "SWEET CAROLIIIINE A-DA DA DA SUMNUH NUHHNUH DAAHH DUHH NUHHH" while Roxy unleashes some R-rated language. She is upset.
Angela smiles and replies easily to Anya, "Thanks, here…" She writes out a song and her name on a piece of paper, then slips it to her. Still sounding like Spanish to Anya, though most of the others would hear what she says as English. "Think this would liven things up… more than that is, anyway." Her lips curl in a wry expression, as she apparently has opinions abnout Neil Diamond's selections on karaoke machines.
Meanwhile, Becca's been running orders back and forth, somehow balancing overburdened trays of drinks and rib orders that seem like they ought to be difficult for her to lift overhead like that, never mind keep stable as she wends her way around people on those tall heels. But she does it, with easy grace.
And now, with the crowd having thinned at least a little, she catches Anya's eye and signals to her that she's taking her break. But rather than coming up to the bar, or heading in back, she heads for the karaoke setup, cringing, herself, at the song currently spurring a spontaneous sing-along.
Caitlin, it would be fair to say, appears to be at least a bit perturbed by Roxy's sudden (albeit, one must acknowledged, entirely prompted) outburst, her body language turning defensive and defeated; her shoulders slump and she folds her arms about her chest, eyes cast downward, expelling a huff of why-I-never.
"Okay, well, I'm - you know, I'm just trying to, you know, to be a good role model for you and to, you know, to look out for you, and - and, stuff."
Koriand'r nods solemnly at Roxy's outburst. It's good to see a human I mean an American I'm not an alien dealing with her anger in a healthy way. She forgives the forgotten question, and just says to both, "I do not wish to interfere in family matters. I will give you both the space, and I hope you resolve your dispute with love." She presses her right hand to her chest as she offers this benediction, then backs away from Roxy and Caitlin to look for someone else to talk to. Becca was kind of sending a signal, if a confused one…
Hercules gets an odd look on his face, and fishes around in his pocket for a cellphone, one fitted inside one of those 'take anything short of a gunshot' damage-resistant cases. Frowning, he pokes at it, then grumbles. "Angela, I am being called upon. Feel free to pass my number out if anyone asks." With that, the god slips out to deal with mundane matters.
Taking Angela's slip, Anya eyeballs it. The cringe and confusion that might have been on her face previously dissolves, and she looks up to Angela with wide eyes. "Oh. My God. Yes. FUCK yes."
No, she is not putting anything into the damn swear jar for that one.
Anya clings to the slip as if it is The Precious itself, protecting it like a newborn puppy. Catching Rebecca, she waves her hand in the air, telling her without words to HOLD ON.
Rushing over, she passes the slip to Becca and says, "Please, dear God, whatever you do, don't sing Journey!" Pause. "Or GnR, unless it's November Rain!" She turns and heads back to the bar, before spinning around again and calling out, "OR CREEP, OR SAY IT AIN'T SO!"
Roxy frowns at Caitlin's sudden, magnified display of defeat. How often do you see a six-foot plus woman slump like that? How often do dressmakers prepare for the sort of strain that places on their garments? The display's enough to convince Roxy to settle down in her tirade, and she slumps back against the bar, coral-painted lips set into a little frown. She indicates Cait to Anya, and leans in to the bartender so that she's better able to hear…
"My sister just got some bad news. Double whiskey an' coke? But like, two of them. She's real big. Doesn't work with just one." ROXY ISN'T TECHNICALLY WRONG.
She looks back up to Cait, all smiles. "Hey! I feel better. You should, too! I get where you're comin' from. Ordered us a whiskey an' coke for you, 'cuz I know how you get at parties, and I got myself…" Roxy affords herself a laugh, nudges Cait for her benefit. Unloads a brainy joke. "A virgin Cuba Libre! Heh heh. Get to pretend I'm old enough to drink without breakin' rules, right?" YEAH.
She looks towards Kori, whose attention has fluttererd outwardly.
"Kori, what're you drinkin', girl? And who are you lookin' for? You got some boy at the party?" Roxy peers over Kori's shoulder, intent on solving a mystery she created for herself.
As the previous 'performer' was doing their thing, Becca was browsing through the listing of the available songs. And then she smiled, apparently finding something she really liked.
Then Anya is there, and handing her that slip. "No worries," she answers her co-worker, grinning. "I got somethin' picked out already, an' it ain't any of those."
And then it's her turn.
"Hey, y'all," she says, smiling and looking out across the bar as she takes the mic and steps up into place. "I'm Becca, an' I hope y'like this." If she's at all nervous, she's not showing it much. Not even when her eyes alight for just a moment on Kori before moving on to Anya again.
And then from the backing track, a piano begins to play. And Becca begins to sing…
And she's good, as the song she picked out becomes apparent — a down-tempo version of Tom Petty's 'American Girl', as recorded by Ms. Taylor Swift. (https://youtu.be/eeCpF12V10Y)
Angela perks up at Rebecca's performance, tilting her head a bit and watching intently, as it's definitely something that she wasn't expecting for a karaoke night. Keeping her eyes on Becca, she finishes her drink and sets it down on the bar absently as the song continues. Idly, she does pass a look over towards Roxy and Caitlin, much like a gravity well tends to draw other people in the first place.
Rushing back to the bar just in time to be gathered up by Roxy, Anya gives the youngster her ear, and then gives her a look. She then grins in a mischievous way, and nods her head before ducking away to begin making two double tall Jim and Coke's. When she returns, however, the glasses are brought over toward Caitlin, and she smiles very honestly toward the muscular chick.
"Your sister said you'd want to drink these. Technically, she can't buy them without proper ID, so, looks like you're buying them. But, if that's not cool, I'll totally drink them, so, it's no harm no foul."
She then leans to one side, the side closer to Roxy, and offers a fist for the bumping. The smug look on her face suggests that the plan did not go over her head. Not in the slightest. It just got changed. Slightly.
As Becca takes the stage, Anya lifts her hands to her mouth, cups them, and HOOOTS loud enough for the whole bar to hear. "THAT'S OUR GIRL, BABY! THAT'S OUR GIRL!"
She might not be a huge fan of Taylor Swift, but it isn't Sweet Caroline. There are so many decent Neil Diamond songs to sing, after all.
"This is such a welcomed change of pace from whatever douchenozzle decided to sing the worst Neil Diamond song of all time," she remarks to those around her.
"But… But, I don't drink?" protests Caitlin, meekly, before showing her (LEGAL) ID - even though not asked, because she is Good - and then paying for the drinks, following close behind at her sister's heels.
Then, she takes a sip.
"Oh, god," Caitlin coughs out, unswallowed liquid still in her mouth. "Oh my god why would anyone drink at all, this is horrible. Roxy, you can't drink this. It's disgusting. This is bad, right? This has gone bad. Should I call the health department? Roxy? Should I call the health department, Roxy?"
Koriand'r, called back by Roxy from her approach toward Rebecca, registers surprise that the fight is over so quickly (she'd kind of expected a duel to settle their differences, but then, Roxy's natural dominance probably settled the issue) and, remembering her drink, glances down at it. Was it always so empty? Maybe it evaporates quickly. She's heard alcohol does that.
"I do not know its name," Koriand'r admits to Roxy. "It is brown and adequate." She offers Roxy the drink, asking, "Do you recognize it?"
Roxanne is halfway through her Virgin Cuba Libre with two shots of whiskey. She is situated in such a way that Anya's view of her is mostly cute bob haircut and slender shoulders and nothing else. SURE, she coughs, but it's quickly morphed into laughter because ha ha! Cait's reaction to alcohol was so funny that she's laughing! That's why she coughed! Nevermind that she's trying to pile a night's worth of alcohol into one grab for glory.
"-! You've drank before, right? Like, it burns for a reason! And you're all strong, Cait. It's not gonna do ANYTHING to you. Just don't let it sit on your tongue for too long, close your eyes, and swallow real hard. You can ask the bartender for a chaser, she's super cool." Roxy reaches over to pat Cait on the shoulder, ever her superhero sister's guide to the morally grey. She sips at her drink more moderately, intent on pursuing the illusion that it's really just a Coke, and quirks an eyebrow when Kori makes her way back over.
"Hey girl," offers the punk, inclining her head. "Uh. Zat whiskey? Rum? Brown and adequate makes me thing of all KINDS of things," alludes Roxy, who would be making eye contact at all sorts of squat, musclebound idiots if they were here. But they're not. Roxy leans in to Kori and whispers to her, conspiring!
And THEN… she's gonna sit back and listen to Rebecca belt it out, because she's into a solid track with a solid female voice leading it. Illicit Alcohol mission accomplished, Roxy's *definitely* going to sit back and enjoy herself.
"Woo! Kill it, girl
It happens really fast, while everyone is distracted by Rebecca's amazing karaoke. Anya recognizes that Caitlin has only one drink, and she recognizes the hunch that Roxy's performing, because she's done that hunch. Her eyes dash left and right, waiting for just the right moment, and then her hand dips below the edge of the bar.
The telltale sound of *THWIP!* is drowned out by the karaoke PA and all of the cheers.
A black tendril of webbing strikes the glass in Roxy's hand while she's cheering, and gives it a harsh tug. The glass falls onto the floor, shattering and spilling booze everywhere, while one small piece of glass flies into Anya's hand and is quickly tossed into the trash can at her feet, behind the bar, along with that thin line of black webbing.
She turns to look at Roxy then, and sighs. "Seriously?" she asks, before moving toward the back room to find the broom and dustpan.
Koriand'r applauds Becca's song thunderously and luminously, transported with rapture. "Yes! Glorious!" she cries, inadvertently drifting off the ground as her halo picks up by at least fifty lumens. Roxy eventually drags her back down to Earth, though, and the two share whispers together before she (Koriand'r, not Roxy) straightens up to ask any bartender left with Anya's new engagement, "Yes, I wish to order one Isle of Length, please."
Caitlin Fairchild - who has been throw out of planes, derailed trains, and smashed automobiles - looks to be on the edge of throwing up, her eyes watering as she manages, with not inconsiderable effort, to force down her drink. She then coughs loudly for a few moments, hand waving at her face.
"Oh my god, of COURSE I don't drink, Roxy!" she stammers, seeming (even as she coughs as if dealing with emphysema) vaguely insulted. "I - I have a Masters! I have TWO Masters! And - and I'm a superhero, and I have a thriving social media presence, what kind of EXAMPLE would that be!?"
Angela does, however, look over at Caitlin at that, and smiles slightly, "Miss, allow me to give you a bit of unsolicited advice. You only live once, so enjoy it while you can. Maybe with something a little higher quality than a whiskey and coke, but still…" She grins cheerfully, applauding Becca's song as it goes on.
The song finished, Becca bows to what applause she gets, smiling and blushing just a bit. "Thanks, y'all," she says, before yielding the mic to the next performer. And then she steps down, and makes her way over toward the bar — and Kori.
"Hi," she says, a little sheepishly, as she approaches the taller, glowier woman. "I, um, I wanted to apologize, for earlier."
R"Shit!" Roxy's not drunk, not even remotely close, but she is sort of flighty, and literally three of the last four times she's dressed up, some asshole in Future Armor has shown up to ruin the day. When her glass explodes in her hand, the entire bar - all of it - quakes as though some invisible hand had smacked the wall holding the drinks. The CLATTERCLATTERJANGLE is remniscent of a minor tremor, and utterly coincidental with Roxanne's panicked hop away from her blown-up glassware.
Roxy's simultaneously apologetic and amped-up - look at those little shoulders heave! Her eyes are the size of dinner platters. It takes her a good few seconds to collect herself, after she takes a quick look around to understand that no— there are no bounty hunters after her. No men in suits breaking through the window. Also, she's somehow skittered behind Caitlin in the immediate readjustment, and peeks out from behind her sister's imposing profile to peer up at the Glamazon's green eyes.
"I dunno why my glass exploded," explains Roxy, sparring a second to shoot *DAGGERS* at Anya. "Musta been from when the firegirl got excited about the music. Teach her what a Long Island Iced Tea is, please?"
Koriand'r cocks her head to the side at Becca, smiling pleasantly but confused. "For what do you wish to apologize, friend? You have done me no wrong I know of." She shoots Roxy a concerned glance at her fight or flight response, but no one else seems to be reacting, so whatever triggered it must be an overreaction? She does her best to keep Roxy in her peripheral vision while she talks to Becca, just in case intervention is required.
Pausing, Anya looks around at the bar when it quakes, her eyes wide. She stays perfectly still until it's over, then judges the patrons, more than half of whom didn't even seem to NOTICE it. Booze'll do that to people. Now with fire in her eyes, she ducks into the back room, quickly returns with a broom and dustpan, and quickly scoops the broken glass up. As it's being dumped into the wastebin, she meets Roxy's gaze briefly, shakes her head, and then walks back over to Koriandr.
However, the firegirl is engaged with Becca in conversation now, and that makes her grin. So she holds off for now, and reaches for her phone to quickly google 'Isle of Length', a drink she's never heard of before.
And as luck would have it, Angela is the next performer. Stepping up towards the small stage, the ginger haired woman stands there in her glimmering red gown, and smiles out towards the crowd. "Sadly, the person this song is for had to leave, but it's something I know he'd appreciate." With that, she begins to sing, and unlike when she speaks… it's undeniably in English.
"Tonight, I'm gonna have myself, a real good time… I feel alive, and the world… I'll turn it inside out, yeah. And floating around, in ecstacy… so don't, stop me now. Don't stop me… 'cause I'm having a good time, having a good time…!"
And then she launches into the full version of Don't Stop Me Now, her voice a perfect soprano that hits each note with divine precision, a shooting star leaping through the sky. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HgzGwKwLmgM)
Luke busts out of the back room, the jacket of his tuxedo and shirt having been removed which leaves him in a black a-frame shirt. "Sweet Christmas, what the hell was that?!"
She finishes the rest of her drink, because that's the sort of thing you're supposed to do. And, unsurprisingly, she starts coughing again the second she's done so.
Despite her sheepishness, it would take the better part of an entire bottle to get Caitlin *drunk* - she's six and a half feet tall and, while she might not advertise it on her Wikipedia page, she weighs around four hundred pounds. (Which is mostly super-dense muscle. Mostly. There are two sizeable exceptions.)
She instinctively bolts to her feet (which, owing to aforementioned exceptions, draws a remarkable amount of unwanted attention her way) and puts herself between Roxy and the door.
"Did - did someone try to shoot you!?"
"Well," Becca begins, clearly nervous, "That was rude o'me, starin' like that. I'm sorry. I just never, well, I never saw anyone like you before. But you prob'ly get that all the time, I reckon." How To Tell Becca Is Nervous: The Texas accent — and the word choices, figures of speech, and diction quirks that go with it — get thicker. "I just… I guess I was kinda knocked on my ass by how you look."
And then Angela is singing, and it gives Becca a welcome excuse to stop talking, as she listens and starts bouncing to the beat a little, a smile of delight on her lips.
Whoa. Who just sprinted into the room wearing a gum-wrapper as a top? Why's he got the monopoly on muscle around here? Why hasn't Roxy met this guy before? Caitlin will become increasingly aware of a weight increasing against her side as Roxanne becomes too distracted to pay attention to things like 'posture' - Luke's on the scene, and he's wondering why his bar's shaking.
Roxy didn't notice it, but it's probably a good question. Does New York get earthquakes like La Jolla did? In any case, the safest thing to do is to pretend like she's got no idea what's going on, and in that regard Roxanne is (almost) the undisputed champion. She looks up from Luke, who is virtually Cait-level so far as Masculine Wiles goes, and peers back up at her sister.
"Huh? Oh. My glass blew up. Don't think anybody was shooting at us. Think somebody figured out that I had a virgin Cuba Libre." Still behind Cait, she rests her chin on her sister's stomach, head parallel with the ground, and fires ANOTHER hateful little glance at Anya. She doesn't know what Anya did, but she knows she did it! That was good alcohol!
Anyway, Kori and Becca's little how-do has her attention, now.
"One of the big guys spilled his drink and got mad," Anya tells Luke quickly. "It's cool, man. I handled it. No harm, no foul." She's still covering for Roxy, which is saying something! Some bartenders would've thrown her ass out by now.
Anya promptly goes back to her phone, only to turn and look when Angela starts to sing. Her eyes widen, sparkling with awe, and her hands wring together with excitement. "Oh my God, yes!" She reaches over and puts a hand on Luke's arm, sighing. "Oh, her voice is amazing! And, and Freddie? Oh, it makes my queer bits tingle!"
She can probably feel Roxy's dagger-eyes boring into her skull, but she isn't looking.
The idiom about ass-knocking would probably have thrown Koriand'r for a loop if she'd noticed it, but a frown of confusion marked her attention at the very beginning of the explanation, and she hasn't really let go of it enough to focus on the rest of it: she asks Becca, "Is it not the custom here to allow me to decide what I think is rude? Because if you wish to insist you have been, I will acquiesce, but I do not agree."
In her confusion, Koriand'r realizes with a start, she'd forgetten to pay attention to Roxy. A sudden, guilty glance sideways locates her favorite human, and tight muscles suddenly droop in relief. Yes. Roxy is still safe. Good.
Koriand'r wonders briefly when her Isle of Longing or whatever it was is coming. And what it is. And if Roxy inviting her home should make her as happy as it did.
Luke looks skeptical at Anya as he walks out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a bar towel that is slung over his shoulder, "A glass breaking doesn't cause the whole bar to shake. I should know, I've broken a few glasses in my time. That felt more like an earthquake, or me doing jumping jacks."
He starts to look around the bar to see if he can spot any damage, but doesn't notice anything obvious in the way of structural integrity issues. However the statuesque redhead that he can look in the eye manages to get a double take before Angela starts to sing.
Once those pipes open, his eyes focus to the stage for a brief few seconds till Anya snaps him out of it. "Anya…I don't want to hear about your tingling queer bits, chica. You have got to leave something to the imagination…"
"But… why would anyone explode your glass?" she muses, more to herself than to anyone else.
Then she finishes the other drink.
And then she coughs a lot more, which turns her abdomen into an unyielding wall of steel that is not especially pleasant to rest your face against for a few moments but which does make for an impressive sight even through the fabric of her Holly Golightly dress.
Angela stands on the stage, and raises her arms as she finishes up, "If you wanna have a good time, just give me a call… 'Causing I'm having a good time, yes I'm having a good time, and I don't want to stop at ALL!" And she takes the last word and just holds it perfectly, letting the note carry for several beats longer than typical, before her voice drops into a sultry finish with the outro. Then she finishes and smiles once more to the bar, stepping down from the stage and looking around a bit, before heading back to her solitary spot at the bar.
"Why WOULD anybody explode my glass?" This is actually a good question. The bartender, while cute and savvy and Hep to her Jive — didn't exactly seem like a threat. Roxy takes a moment to furrow her brow, chin a hard little point against Cait's impenetrable abdominal wall. She chews on her cheek for a moment, lost in thought.
"Maybe somebody just hates these glasses?" Get away from the cans! He hates these cans!!
"No, that's stupid. Either way, whenever this happened NORMALLY somebody'd BE here by now… maybe it was like, one of those… have you ever like, worked in a restaurant kitchen?" THE ANSWER IS NO, CAITLIN HAS NEVER WORKED IN A CHILI'S KITCHEN. "Sometimes glassware just BLOWS UP for no good reason, 'cuz it's hot or something. Maybe THAT'S it."
Roxy slides out from where she's been hugging to Cait for safety, and reorients herself with the bar. Grins to Kori and Becca, listens to Angela singing, and glances over a shoulder to Anya and Luke.
"Could I have like, a Coke? No booze or anything, since I ain't old enough to have a good time~"
One hand pats twice on Luke's arm. "Buddy, I leave lots to the imagination." She then steps away and decidedly goes to make a Long Island Iced Tea for Koriand'r. She can't help but see a younger version of herself in Roxy, and while she's well aware of ROXY DAGGERS and all, she's not a total jerk. She just has a bar to tend and rules to follow, which tears a little hole in her anarchists heart.
"One Isle of Longing," she says, briefly interrupting the conversation between Kori and Becca. "-Length. Isle of Length."
Her eyes swivel easily toward Roxy, and she smiles in a demure manner. "One coke, coming right up. I might even throw a shot of Good Time in there for ya, Raimee." With a wink, she gets right to work at pouring Roxy a nice, tall glass of Olympic Soda.
The bar ERUPTS with applause when Angela finishes, and when she reaches her spot at the bar, there's a shot of top shelf tequila waiting for her, complete with a small salt shaker, a freshly cut lime, and a Sprite chaser. This one's on the house.
After the rousing rendition of a Queen classic, Luke gives a clap for Angela, still looking slightly confused at the mini shake up.
Luke finally just shrugs those massive shoulders of his and looks to Roxy, "Sure, one coke coming up." He moves to grab a glass and starts to fill it with coke from the bar gun, "..Oh, you got it Anya? Ok. I guess this one is mine then." He lifts the glass to his lips and takes a swig from the sugary drink.
He look back to Anya with a smirk, "Yeah yeah, like that dress. I would have never imagined you in it."
He glances at Becca and Kory, giving another look to Anya, "Well, that looks promising."
"I - I've never… worked anywhere, Roxy."
Yes, it's true. She never even had a high school job! She got a full tuition, and then she was part of a spooky program, and then an older man agreed to pay for any and everything that she wanted in exchange for her wearing a tighter-than-skin-tight leather leotard that left her entire ass hanging out.
Which Caitlin, for a moment, thinks about in that light with furrowed brow.
And, then, she wonders aloud,
"… whose drink was this?"
Becca definitely joins into that cheering for Angela, the song definitely having been a good time for her. But then, once the applause dies down, she's once again in Awkward Town with the alien goddess. "Um, all right, then, I wasn't sure if'n I offended you or anything. It's just, like I said, I never met anyone like you before. You're a l'il, um, overwhelming — er, I mean that in a good way." That color in her cheeks that threatens to match Becca's dress is on its way back.
Angela smiles over at Anya as she sees the drink waiting for her there. She then holds the lime with her thumb and index finger, sprinkling a bit of salt on the hand as well. Then she winks at Anya, licks the salt, downs the shot, and bites the lime in one smooth practiced motion. Her head tilts towards Luke, "Lovely party, but I'm afraid I have some work tomorrow, so I'll have to hit the road." She does, however, leave a sizeable tip for Anya on her bill. As well as her phone number.
With that, she gathers her coat around her, and walks over towards Caitlin's table, smiling at her as she says, "My friend is a good man, and a gentleman, and I'd be remiss if I didn't give you his number, miss. Do with it what you will, but I vouch for his honor and integrity highly." With that, she places Hercules' card on the table for Fairchild to take, or not, as she sees fit.
And with that, she flashes Anya one last grin, before striding out the door. Or perhaps sashaying is the more appropriate term, given how the evening has gone so far.
Koriand'r smiles at Becca kindly and shakes her head. "You have given me no offense," she promises forgetting herself and taking Becca's upper arms in her hands, squeezing gently; solidarity in both shared presence and in helping to steady Becca who seems a little off-keel emotionally. "Your words are very kind. I am glad to receive them in the spirit they are given. I would be more glad to receive your name, though, friend."
"Yeah… I know, Cait. S'why I explained it and alla that." Roxanne's frowning in a way that hints at some sort of existential distress, but this is swiftly swept under the rug when Luke's pouring her a drink. For a few happy minutes, she watches him work the soda gun with a sort of glee in her lavender eyes - a soda gun's SORT of like a dumbbell, right? You can't help the way it makes you pop out of your skin. Damn.
She cozies up to Cait while she watches Luke, happy as a pink-banged clam, and only glances down at Caitlin's second, non-exploded drink with a fair bit of curiosity. "…Huh. Uh. That dude next to you?" Roxy points next to Caitlin - indeed, on the Glamazon's other side, Frank Inauspicious (actual name) smiles up at her, surely to be forgotten in the next sentence, and absolutely happy just to be included. No hard feelings— whatever that means.
Roxy pivots on Caitlin and rests against her sister, attention split between Anya and Kori/Becca. To the latter duo, she offers a broad little grin. "Get it, girl! A girl who can sing's like… damn. She's gotta be like, top class, you know?" Actually - wait! Roxy tilts her head, lifts one dark-haired eyebrow at Kori.
"Can YOU sing?"
And to Anya: "Whatever Good Times is, I want two of it in the drink. If you -can-. If you can't? One's fine. I'll even letya slide for, uh. Hiring booze snipers to ruin my night. Heh."
Luke Cage glances from Angela to Anya, and then watches the exchange with Angela and Cait. He runs his hand over his bald pate, in a motion that would be combing back his hair if he had any. "Well, I must have missed s lot when I was in the back. Everyone is getting digits tonight."
He breaks out into a grin and shakes his head, sipping at his coke. "Well, i'd call this a successful party then. Maybe we should do these things more often."
The big man chuckles to himself, and then grabs the dish towel from his shoulder and starts to wipe down the bar, cleaning off the empties and whistling a low tune to himself.
"My name's Rebecca. Rebecca Gadison. But most people call me 'Becca', the blonde says, looking up at Kori, a bit surprised by the question, but not in a bad way. "And I heard you say your name is… Kory, I think?" The blushing has not subsided. Not a bit.
"Don't get used to it," Anya warns Luke. Fancy gowns are so not her style. She's working at filling herself a shot of tequila as well, this one from the well of course, and is watching Becca and Kori with a grin. "Well, she better hurry it up, her break's almost over and I am so gonna get some fresh air."
Lifting her shotglass, she lifts it in Angela's general direction and downs it in unison with her.
"You got it, amiga," she volleys back to Roxy, before moving down the bar to collect her tip and the number. A little laugh is given to herself, before she's coming back over and getting herself ready to go on break. "Not everyone," she says to Luke, and looks up at him with an encouraging look. "Night's young, though. And honestly… you need to get outta this place sometime. If you're not careful, some really hot chick with a shit ton of problems is gonna come in here some lonely Sunday night, you two are gonna end up banging in the back room, and you're both gonna leave filled with regret." She punches him in the shoulder, perhaps a bit harder than she normally would (because she knows he can take it), and to the casual observer, it would look nothing more than friendly. "So go put your tux back on and get yourself a number, otherwise I'm gonna have to drag you to some party and you're gonna freak when you see the kind of company I keep."
"Oh. I, ah - I'm, sorry, ah… you… guy, you?" Caitlin awkwardly says, with a delicate punch to the side of his arm that's really just a glancing touch of her knuckles, because - well, you know, because she can lift airplanes and you can't just go around hitting people when you can lift airplanes. It makes a *terrible* mess.
Then, she asks, "Can I get - another one of… whatever he was having? And, you know, and I'll pay for this one, right? We have plenty of money, I do very well online and Mister -" there's an uproar from the crowd over something that masks, entirely, whatever name it was she said - "Is, ah, I believe the phrase a friend used was 'like, totally Tony Stark rich or somethin', bro,' whatever it is that's meant to indicate in terms of socioeconomic status."
And then:
"Oh my gosh did she just say that? Where other people could hear it?"
Koriand'r nods a bit absently at Roxy. "I can sing quite well," she confirms, with no apparent pride, just stating a fact. If Roxy was dropping a hint, Koriand'r missed it. "I do not know if you would like it, though." Humans don't seem to like much of what she does except for tossing her hair and bending over.
But her attention is mostly on Becca, who seems to be in some distress. She smiles soothingly. "Yes, that is my name," she confirms, still holding Becca steady. Her hands are so hot, like there's a heating pad under her skin. "I am happy to meet you, friend Becca. Do you need to sit down…?"
Luke take a sip of his coke as he looks to Anya, a brow raising as she slugs him and goes into her…encouragement speech? "I'll keep that under advisement, though at the very least I'd take her upstairs. I doubt the weight bench would be all the comfortable." Luke rolls his eyes slightly as he lifts the glass to his lips once more and drains the rest of the liquid, reaching for a bottle of scotch this time. "Besides, what I do on my lonely nights are really none of your concern. I'll manage my own regrets, thank you very much."
Luke looks across the bar, noting the thinned out crowd and shrugs a massive shoulder, "Speaking of regrets…" he says a bit louder, "…next round is on the house.
Roxanne is staring at Luke thoughtfully. If he happens to look her way, he's going to get a perfect, fey-visaged image of lavender eyes and perfectly cupid's-bow lips, an ephemeral and dangerous sense of centered-ness that promises to be gone so soon as the sun rises in the morning. Thankfully, Caitlin's there, and Roxy's of the intention to stay on somewhat decent behavior. Beyond that, she watches Anya go about her business, considering - she doesn't have the Perception to note anything out of the ordinary about the woman, and eventually gives up on trying.
"Wait. Did you drink SOMEBODY ELSE'S booze? You? Caitlin Fairchild? Are you—" Roxy steps away from Caitlin, almost stumbling over a barstool in the process. She is *blown away*.
"…are you drinking more than -never-?" Her voice has reached a level of intensity only matched by exasperated mothers whisper-shouting at their children in supermarket aisles.
To Kori, Roxy offers a haughty *HUFF*. She lifts her chin. "You should sing, stargirl!!"
To Luke's offer, seemingly magically, three glasses appear before Roxy. As he approaches, she explains, "There were three guys here! Suits and real upset-lookin'. They said they were drinking 'well whiskey', whatever that is."
"Sure, sure," Anya tells Luke. "But I'm a great wingmate." She grins at him, before excusing herself from the bar. There's some cleanup to do, and fortunately for Roxy, Anya's vigilance is broken.
"AActually, I think I need to get back to work," Becca replies to Kori, after a glance over toward Anya and Luke. "But I'm really glad t'have met you. I mean, really glad. And even more glad you weren't mad about before."
Luke reaches up and grabs a couple of the bottles off the top shelf, and starts lining up glasses along the bar. First he lines a row of mugs and fills them halfway with beer, then stacks a row of empty shot glasses in between each mug. He mixes a concoction of the top shelf liquors in a shaker, pours them into a stack of glasses he is holding, then pours the contents he is holding into the shot glasses that are stacked up on top of the mugs. When he is done pouring the shots, he tips the end glass and they all domino into the mugs filled with beer. https://youtu.be/wpYr-spbL1U?t=26
He starts to slide the mugs to various customers, not really paying that close attention to who might end up grabbing one as he looks over to Anya, "Are you? Maybe we will put that to the test sometime. I won't disagree, I do need to get out of here sometime. I live upstairs, I work here…I never leave. Your right, I am pathetic. Thanks for pointing that out."
"You told me to drink!" is Caitlin's exasperated response.
And then she drinks again.
This time, she doesn't cough!
"I'm getting kind of hot. I - I mean, warm! Warm!" she stumble-stutters out. "Is - is that normal?"
Koriand'r's face drops in disappointment at Becca excusing herself, but before she can speak, a crafty expression dawns. "I am not angry," she promises, with a little thumb rub on Becca's biceps before releasing her. "Please complete your shift well. I also have other business to attend to."
With that, Koriand'r turns pertly on one heel and floats up to the stage, accepting the microphone but ignoring the karaoke machine. "This is a song about someone afraid of losing their culture," she announces, draws in a breath, and begins singing. Her speaking voice is high, sweet, and fairylike, but her singing voice reflects her size, deep and alto and slightly slow. The song is clearly translated into English, barely rhyming at all but with an oddly defiant yet hopeful melody as she sings a capella,
Three glasses have vanished by the time Luke - woebegone as he is - has finished pouring a free round for the celebrants. Where have they gone? Nobody knows, because nobody's paying attention, because there are FREE DRINKS laid out for everybody present. You'd have to be stupid not to partake! So while Becca and Kori fumble adorably over acquaintances and numbers, Roxanne's frowning up at her sister, really and truly worried.
Three shotglasses full of cheap whiskey are hovering beneath the passenger-side lip of the bar. Ignore them.
"Cait, I toldja to drink so you'd like… stop doin' THAT. You're, uh." She exhales, and cannot believe - really, she cannot BELIEVE she's about to do what she's about to do.
Really. Part of her wants to scream.
Having Cait as a sister is impossible.
She leans up to whisper to Cait, but not before she *quick as light* downs one of those shotglasses.
"With a bold and sudden calling
Western revolution calling
Let our hearts be open to aHerassionate nation!
Riding on a penny farthing
It's the flag of our sun rising
Warding evil spirits
Like an ICBM…"
Koriand'r's strange lyrics continue, alternating between implications of a simpler, more spiritual time intruded on by worship of a cold Western culture. She moves from mourning the soul of the Japanese culture to barely contained anger at the harlots who abandon their ways to exaltation at the blessed memory of her people's ways.
And maybe some of it even breaks through the weirdness of the lyrics.
Drinks passed out, Luke returns the bottles to their places on the shelf and starts to clean up the mess the domino shots made. He looks over at Roxy and Cait with a smile as he starts to wipe down the bar, "Your friend going to be ok? Do I need to call you two a ride home somewhere? I'll pay the faire if it comes to that."
He pauses a moment as Kory…floats…to the stage, tossing the towel over his shoulder for a moment as he watches her perform for a minute before he gets back to work. He spots Becca on her way back to the bar and gives her a subtle shake of his head, "You're good, Becca, if you want to be. I can handle the rest of the night." He casts a glance Kory's way then back to Becca, "You know, if there are other things you would rather be doing."
In light of whatever it is that her sister whispers to her, Caitlin seems - if anything - even more flustered.
"What? No. That's - you're crazy. Stop being crazy."
And she finishes yet another drink.
Finally sitting down at the bar, Caitlin is quick to amend her statement: "But - but, not in an ableist way. I don't mean it like that. Really, I should avoid language with that degree of problematic history in general."
"You — You sure, Boss?" Becca doesn't have to look to tell where that glance of Luke's just went. And just when she thought she was done blushing.
Roxy deposits an empty shotglass on the bar. She's helping keep the place clean, which should be admired if nothing else. To Cait, she quirks a brow - she's not impressed by her sister JUST DISMISSING EVERYTHING. "Tell that to your bra," she asides, apparently too hopped up on sugar (and literally nothing else!) to care about decorum. Roxy piles her face into an uplifted hand, and idly pours a second whiskey-filled shotglass into her mouth - she glances sidelong at Kori, singing her heart out on stage. The glass is set down, and Roxy smiles at the display.
"You know, Kori's like… a lot like you, if you had this weird alternate-universe you who was smart AND super-duper okay with being who she wanted to be? She's got problems, but she's toooootally honest. I'm surprised she doesn't have a boytoy yet." Roxy rests her back against the bartop, gleeful in her apparent Cheers-level bartender psychiatry.
At Cait's little diatribe…
"…Yeah. I miss her, too. We gotta find a way to get her outta that stupid Young Avengers crew. Since when's a security detail and swanky couch beat hanging out with US?"
Luke nods to Becca and smiles genuinely towards her, "I'm sure. Go, have fun. I'll hold down the fort."
He smiles, shoeing Becca away with the wave of one of his hands before he turns back around to start cleaning again, picking up the shot glasses from in front of Roxy and tossing them into the tub for cleaning. "Not sure you heard me before," he says to Roxy as he raps the bar in front of her once with a *THUNK*. "Are you and your friend going to need a ride home? The bar will cover the cost of the ride if you do. You just need to let me know."
As she finishes *another* drink - really, someone should probably say something sooner or later, she might be six and a half feet tall but she's also a *complete* novice - Caitlin gives a brief, scoffing laugh. "Roxy, if I could talk to my bras, I'd probably just ask them to, you know, to not cost several hundred dollars each but they have to put this alloyed material in them so I guess that's really about as low as they can get them while still maintaining a sustainable profit margin and a degree of brand exclusivity."
And then, with a look of disbelief directed at her sister, Caitlin discreetly remarks, "I don't - I don't think she's, into boys, Roxy?"
"Look at this turnout," Anya says to Luke, as she comes back from cleanup rounds with a tray full of empty glasses. "You think this is pathetic?" She grins at Luke and gets to work at dunking the glasses, before sighing. "I'm going for some air."
As she heads toward the back door, she gives Roxy an upnod in passing. Eyes are still on you, girl.
To Luke, Roxy offers a lofted eyebrow and a coquettish smile - she can't help it, and he's being REALLY nice. "Dude, we're fine. No WAY we're driving home, but I got Uber, and we got money." She flashes a smile after the fact - Caitlin's taking to alcohol like a fish takes to water. Uber's not a bad idea, especially since of the two of them, Roxy's got .5 Tolerance and Cait has 4.0 Tolerance. If those are measurements.
ANYA GETS KNIFE-EYES BEFORE SHE LEAVES.
Cait's got Roxy's attention more fully, and it's almost… there's a subtle displacement of the power-balance here, and from her spot basically in Cait's lap, Roxy almost looks like she's in charge of the dyad. "Man," she intones, invoking the wisdom of ages and also the secret knowledge that she's got a third Illegal Alcohol shotglass hidden beneath the bar, "I dunno. She's really nice but didn't come at me like she had a Ellen interest in my tongue or anything." Roxy absolutely destroys her PC check, by which we mean fails it entirely. Somehow, the 2000s haven't happened for this girl.
Once Kori's finished with her song, Becca approaches her, smiling a little shyly. "That was really pretty," she says. "I didn't really understand what it was about, but you have a really nice voice."
Shrugging a shoulder, "Ok." Luke smiles back and nods and goes to clean up the rest of the bar, leaving Roxy and Cait to their conversation (and illegal alcohol). He casts a glance after Anya and flips her a wave as she heads out, then buries himself in the remaining work that needs to be done. Cleaning glasses, closing out tabs, cleaning the bar, and filling last minute drink orders.
As Luke begins preparing to close, Caitlin has one more.
Which, let's be realistic, is still a solid three beyond what she should've had, because she's such a lightweight she's *definitely* going to do/doing that thing that girls who don't drink do where they're Just Sooo Drunk Oh My Gosh.
"No. No, she's - like, into you hard, it's kind of awkward? Like, awkward that you don't pick up on it I guess? You know?"
And, after a moment, she adds, "And- and also awkward that, you know, she comes on so strong but I think that's, like, a cultural thing or… something.."
Koriand'r nods at Becca. "Yes, my voice is rather pretty. Thank you."
No ego problems with her!
Koriand'r is polite about it, though, continuing, "Where I am from, speaking and singing lessons are very important. You must be able to make others understand what you wish to say, or else what is the point of speaking at all?" She smiles at Becca. "It is why I liked your song. It was beautiful because you sang it."
Aw! Kori! Roxy's going to push away from Cait and envelop her firey friend in a thin-armed hug from the back, rest her chin atop Kori's shoulder in a way that nobody's going to recognize is gravity-free - she's just suspended in the air like some kind of Magical Girl, and it's an idiosyncracy, and shut up she's lowkey superpowered. She's not making a big deal out of it, neither should you. She just wants to rest her chin on a shoulder and Kori's super tall!
"It was good! You're so good at singing! Like, I didn't understand ANYTHING, you were doin' a buncha… you ever hearda Bjork? It was a lot like Bjork. You could sing that in a bathroom stall and people would think you were some kinda indie witch. Major money." She makes an obscure gesture intended to indicate music industry prowess — it doesn't work.
Afterwards, the girl comments to Becca, ever the debutante, "I'm super DUPER bad at country music. You gotta twang to your voice that I think a lotta major musicians are gonna be way jealous of. You two should TOTES do a DUET." She glances between Kori and Becca, clearly convinced she's come up with a great idea.
Roxy settles back down on the ground, having forgotten she was floating. She rests back against Fairchild, and frowns up at her sister. "She is bein' NICE and you are bein' JUDGY. How many of those Isles of Length did you drink, dude? Besides, she's all from another culture and stuff!" On second thought, the conversation devolves into more whispers, after Roxy glances hard at Caitlin and determines the amount of Social Education is far beyond polite company.
Also, the glass beneath the bar shatters on the floor below. Either Roxy forgot about it, or decided it's no longer necessary. Considering it's SHATTERED on the GROUND…
The shattering of a glass draws any bartender's attention, so Luke glances over towards the sound of breaking glass.
A broken glass in a bar is just part of business, so he walks over with his bar towel and squats down to start cleaning up the glass and spilled liquid, placing the glass shards into his hand as he wipes up the whisky with his towel.
"Thank you," Becca replies to Kori. She might have been slightly taken aback by that first response, but it's also pretty clear that Kori wasn't being egotistical or self-centered. It's just… cultural differences? "An' I know what you mean. I took years o'dance lessons, an' I put a lot o'work into my music, too. Hopin' I can maybe do somethin' with it."
Caitlin runs her fingers through her hair and combs it away from her face in a moment of thought. "How many?" she echoes her sister's questions. "Uhm five, maybe? I think five?
"Anyway, I'm not being judgmental, I'm just - it, it's a statement of observation not of, uhm, of judgement."
Roxy's sudden reference to drinks reminds Koriand'r she's completely forgotten her Longing Isles drink. She reaches over to the bar for it, never considering how dangerous that is, and takes a long draught of it before smiling cautiously: it is very pleasingly bitter, and she likes it. Another deep, greedy swallow later, she smiles down at Roxy. "Thank you, friend Roxy. It was my hope you would enjoy it." Turning her attention back to Becca, her eyebrows raised with delighted interest and her face split in an eager smile, "You dance? Oh! You must show me, please. I very much wish to see it."
It's two more than Roxy had, and the drinks she ordered Cait were like, already three times as strong to begin with. That's — those watching Roxy will see her eyes cross as the complex vagaries of multiplication cloud her thought and are promptly forgotten. A certain stocky Asian idiot would bizarrely have the answer immediately, but he isn't here, and that's half of why Roxy feels the way she feels! She rests back against Caitlin, head sunk back against her sister's… well. It's soft.
"Yeah, five's too much. I'm gonna call an Uber like the hunky bartender said. You ready to go home, Sis?" She lifts her chin up to Caitlin, affects a cocky little smile, and pulls out her smartphone to begin the transaction. Kori and Becca get a second glance, and the exchange brings a smile to Roxy's lips. She speaks to Cait afterwards…
Becca blinks at Kori. "Now? I'm not really dressed for…" She trails off, conflicting impulses struggling in her mind, before finally saying, "Never mind. I can make this work." She goes behind the bar and gets her phone out of her purse, then looks through the music she has loaded on it. "Hmm, yeah, that'll work…" She connects the phone to the sound system, and cues up the music she picked out.
It's an instrumental number that starts out simply, with a slow, strong, driving beat, but layers in more instruments quickly, with an electronica/techno feel to it. And, striding out into a relatively clear area of the floor, Becca starts to move. It gives the impression of a well-practiced modern-dance routine, nothing terribly strenuous or acrobatic, something she might use to warm up before trying something more frenetic. But she's clearly got skills. There is a fluid grace to her motions, a smooth, sinuous set of moves that demonstrate her control, her awareness of her body and its kinetics.
And there is artistry to it. A constant sense that she knows exactly how she is showing herself to her audience, and frequently making eye contact. It is beautiful to watch. It is captivating. And it is, to be honest, sexy, but without being crude or blatant about it.
Honestly, Koriand'r doesn't understand a bit of the dance. Dance may be a language, but if so, it's not one she's learned from kissing anyone yet. If it means anything or says anything, she can't tell, but she doesn't need it to: she takes simple pleasure in watching Becca enjoy herself performing a skill she spent a lot of effort practicing. She applauds loudly when it is done (because she drained her tea-booze during the show), smiling and cheering, "Wonderful! Thank you for sharing. But Becca, please wait, I think I must speak with my friends. Just one moment."
With excuses hopefully made smoothly, she hurries over to Roxy and asks, "Friend Roxy, do you still wish me to crash into your apartment? If you do, I will excuse myself." There's a lonely anxiety in her voice as she asks. No one's invited her over to their home before.
Roxy is NOT drunk. She's frowning at her phone and waiting on the Uber dot to get closer to the bar. It's taking for-fucking-ever, and the irritation shows plainly on the teen's face. Kori's sudden arrival blasts Roxy out of her reverie, and she looks up, startled. "Uh! What? Oh! Y-yeah? I mean, no problem, right?" She jerks a thumb at Caitlin, who is probably using her smartphone to look over scientific articles in her drunken stupor. It's a Cait thing.
"We got an Uber coming, and if you're even a LITTLE bit toasted…" Roxy leans into Kori, and makes Meaningful Eye Contact. "…And I think you ARE. Kinda. Maybe? You should take the car with us. We have a maid and stuff!" She lifts her chin towards Rebecca, and looks back to Kori. "Don't think I met your friend, by the way~"
