Early in the evening by club standards, there's no band on the dais tonight. Oh, no. That honour goes to the mic stand in the middle, with a few off to the sides in case anyone gets up the courage to do a group number. For the time being, no one is up on stage, and a few employees seem to be doing something with wiring. Maybe some technical difficulties. Still, there's music, black lights and plenty of liquid courage, more than a few couples and groups of friends casually heckling each other at the cocktail tables while they wait for the evening's entertainment to begin.
Jack hovers around in the back somewhere, far from most of the crowd. He's not alone, but is here with a woman and a man - colleagues - who are shoving drinks his way, shots of something or another. He drinks them down while glaring at both of them. He's dressed in jeans, a black T-shirt and those sturdy outdoorsy boots. Nothing fancy, in fact, that T-shirt looks rather washed out and the jeans are so well-used they've become almost fashionable.
Poppy makes her way into the club with the air of familiarity, then again, with Alchemy down the street it's likely that she's spent some time in this vicinity. She's dressed in her usual stilettos, although these are a black suede, knee-high affair that lace up the back; she's also wearing a pair of synthetic leggings patterned with purple tentacles and a black, draped, tunic-style shirt with cold-shoulders. Her hair is down, and she's wearing dark red lipstick for a change, a mischievous expression on her face as she scans the room for familiar faces.
Vinnie, done up like some technicolor schoolgirl gone bad, is already here. She's been here a while, violating any club policy about not bringing in her own beverages. One might wonder how she got Martha here in. Martha, of course, being the sixty four ounces of slushy sugar in a few different mishmashed and melting together hues. Like maybe she took a little bit of everything from whatever the local convenience store had on offer tonight. And then added something to it. The glass that had held the vodka's been drained, Martha's plastic lid replaced. For the moment, she just enjoys her drink and plays on her phone. Like she's waiting for someone. Or something. Maybe she's just waiting for the show.
Heeeeey, look who's here! It's C.B. Alexander, invited along by...someone who wants to be here a lot more than him. He seems to have Franklyn Garreau in tow, or is it the other way around? Anyway, he...hasn't dressed for the club at all, if you call his stylish grey t-shirt featuring Daffy Duck with his arms folded and 'Sarcasm: Just Another Service I Offer', worn under a blue and white plaid flannel and paired with dirty jeans and work boots and a Red Sox cap, to be club gear. Hey, at least the Red Sox cap looks new! Anyway, he's actually laughing as he comes through the door, and also having just the tiniest bit of trouble walking a straight line, but at least he's waiting for Franklyn.
Michelle is dressed well tonight, in a forest-green tunic top and a brown skirt embroidered in the same shade of green with a handkerchief hem. Her boots are also brown, and high-heeled. She's a few people behind Poppy, and moves to tap her on the shoulder. "Hey," she says, topaz eyes sparkling. "How are you doing tonight?" She then spots C.B. and waves to him. "Hey, you made it!" with a wink to Poppy.
Cardinal, redheaded vision in pink and grey, looks utterly lovely under the violet lighting which renders her even more luminous than she usually is. To those who can see that she's luminous, anyway. A little sliver of moonlight given shape. Her pink skirt and boots seem all the paler for the particular hue of the club's illumination, the grey she wears all the darker. A game of contrasts which suits her well. First order of business upon arrival is orientation, big eyes sweeping this way, but never quite making it thattaway when she spies Jack over there with some of his colleagues. Without further hesitation, she heads on over, cheerful smile offered to cousin and strangers, a bracelet-jangling wave to go with it. And no words. Who needs words.
Poppy grins at Vinnie, then turns at that tapping on her shoulder and smiles warmly at Michelle. "Hey, you," she says brightly before adding another smile for C.B. and Franklyn, "And you." Glancing back to Michelle, she replies cheerfully, "Pretty damn good. Looking forward to some fine fucking entertainment. Or at least booze." Her eyes twinkle at that, then she tilts her head bar-wards. "Drinks or sitting?"
Jack perks up noticeably when Cardinal walks over - he upnods and waves her over insistantly. "Red - come meet my colleagues. This is Mark," he explains, gesturing for the tall bespectabled fella he's with, brown-haired and about thirty or so, "and this is Freya." The woman is of average height, blonde and in her mid-thirties, homely and cute. "Rangers. I lost a bet, I have to sing," he explains with a grimace, and drinks another shot. "Not only do I have to sing, I have to sing like I /mean/ it." His colleagues grin at each other, offers hands to shake to Red and pleasantries, before they wander off to find a table. "Here for the show then? Please don't film me."
Vinnie misses Poppy's grin, so terribly engaged in whatever's happening on her phone, but she catches the tentacled-legged siren when she peeks back up to check out the rest of the world and grins right back at the woman, even if it goes unnoticed. Should eye contact be found? Well, she'll pucker up and send an airborn kiss. Her blue-eyed attention scans over the others near the object of her momentary affection, considering them all impassively before returning her focus to her phone. And to Martha.
C.B. takes note of many people he knows: Jack and Michelle and Poppy and Vinnie et al. The latter gets a squinty-eyed, vague scowl from him, not that she's looking his way. "Yeah I made it," he says to Michelle, stumbling in her direction. Maybe with Frank? Maybe not? He's slurring his words a bit, too. "But I ain't gonna sing, so -- get that idea out of yer heads right now." He takes off his Red Sox cap and throws it down on the table, as if to prove his point or...something!
Michelle beams back at Poppy. "I'd love some booze, but let's grab a table? First round's on me." She eyes C.B., who already can't walk straight, but shrugs. "Who's drinking what? Poppy? C.B? Franklyn?" Franky gets an encouraging grin. Even though she doesn't know Vinnie, she tosses a wave to her, too. Then she looks at C.B., startled. "I just invited you out for a night of drinking," she says, perfectly honestly.
There's a crackling sound over the sound system, a tap-tap like someone's testing a microphone with a finger, and, immediately thereafter, a thumbs up from one of the techs.
Following that, a young thirty-something African American woman with deep blue, curly hair weaves her way through the crowd toward the dais stage, nodding when one of the techs says something. She waves up at the speakers, currently playing the second to last chorus of a song with a good, foot-stomping beat, and taps her wrist twice with the opposite hand, as if indicating a watch. The techs nod, and one of them steps back out of sight through a discreet door near the dais.
Members of the crowd, seeing the activity, start to straighten up, more and more attention fixing on the stage.
Who's that girl? It's Frank! Stumbling along with C.B., dressed in the standard boho regalia: fawn coloured wooden clogs, shell pink cashmere knee socks which are not exactly staying up, and a white crochet dress which is very lovely and very not worn over any kind of a slip. At least she's got on a fringed vest and an abundance of jewellery to keep her, uh, decentish. Clip-clop; that oversized big black bag she can't get rid of swings as she hurries after C.B, "Wait, wait, wait!" When she notices there's people - like Michelle and Pops and Jack and Vinnie and /oh my/, people - Franklyn laughs and waves, gold bands and outrageous smokey topaz cocktail ring glinting as she goes to hide her grin with her hands. No more words? Probably for the best - she might just slur them.
Cardinal's got a pair of cheerful waves for Mark and Freya. When Jack declares that he'll be singing, she applauds excitedly, a combination of clapping and rattling bracelets. She beams approving smiles up at his colleagues as those hands clasp and press to her chest, like they've given her a magnificent gift. She shakes her head emphatically to assure there'll be no filming, an X drawn over the center of her chest, eyes all wide with honesty. She points to herself, then to the stage, then signs a little something. Is she trying to tell him she intends to sing too?
Maybe the siren has a second sense for people looking at her, as she does glance towards Vinnie, then winks saucily at that airborne kiss. Turning her attention back to the other three, she smirks as C.B. throws his hat down. "Table, right." A sharp grin, and Poppy adds to Michelle. "Whiskey sour, and you're a fucking sweetheart." Looking towards the stage, she flashes a quick smile for the blue-haired woman, then settles in a seat for the moment althoug she does glance barwards. An eyebrow arches as she catches that hint of signing from the stranger.
Jack isn't blind - he gives C.B. and Franklyn a friendly enough upnod and a little toast from his fifth or so shot, which he finishes off, before he focuses on Red again. "Uhuh. Sure you won't," he says as if not trusting his relative at all, grinning at her. "Wait what? You're going to do /what/ on the stage? Think about the family - you can't moon everyone. The shame!" He makes up things again, about her sign language. He straightens up as the activity on the stage begins, staring at it grimly. Determined. "I'm up soon. Best get this over with."
Cardinal bats her lashes all nice and pretty at the suggestion that she might drop trou--or lift skirt, whatever--on stage, even as she shrugs. Like it just can't be helped. Some things just gotta be done. When Jack starts working up his courage to get up there and sing, she does all she can, giving him a firm and certain double thumbs-up of encouragement. He's got this.
Jack has had enough to drink so he's numbed himself - he gives Cardinal a wry smile, nods at her and is about as ready as he can get. So, he gets on stage and takes the microphone. Glares out at the crowd, as if silently accusing every single one of them about this . He takes a deep breath, gestures with an arm in a wide 'fuck it' kind of gesture over to the one handling the music part. Get on with it. "I lost a bet," he explains grimly.
This might be a terrible, terrible, performance, if his expression is anything to go by. He looks like he wants to choke himself on the microphone, holding it in one hand in a tight grip, staring out with eyes somewhat fuzzy from alcohol.
Shanta, blue-black curls catching the light, gives Jack a thumbs up when he gives the KJ his song and takes the stage. This ought to be great.
Soon as the music begins, Jack's demeanor changes - he flashes a toothy grin, his posture relaxes and he begins to prowl on the stage as he begins singing slowly - completely out of tune. Dying cats sound better. It's a familiar song to most: Queen - Don't Stop Me Now.
"Tooonight... 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 ecstasy /So don't stop me now, don't stop me
"Cause I'm having a good time HAVING A GOOD TIME!'
And then he earnestly starts his performance by adding some very not practiced dance moves, moving around more like a boxer would - least he keeps with the rhytm. And he's shouting into the microphone - still very out of tune - but he's REALLY doing this like he means it. Maybe he really is quite drunk. There's some very athletic sort of punches in the air, he spins around and sings to the back of the stage for a few, and whirls around again - pointing out at the crowd at random girl in the back there. "I'm a shooting star leaping through the sky! / Like a tiger defying the laws of gravity / I'm a racing car passing by like Lady Godiiiiva / I'm gonna go go GO / There's no stopping ME!"
A few dancers, drunk or braver than most, wiggle and shimmy their way out onto the floor, clapping and having a good time of it despite Jack's .. ah, creative variation on Queen's intended melody.
Jack has just decided to own the stage - if he's going to make a fool of himself, he'll do it properly.
"DON'T STOP ME NOW! I'm having such a good time!
The rest of the song is him just going all out - his movements isn't exactly like Freddie's but it's clear he's studied his antics a bit, and adjusted them to his own style, still no fancy crazy dance moves but he's moving back and forth on the stage and singing his heart out - he's no dancer. He's just not worried about what people think. During the guitar solo part, he's playing air guitar very enthusiastically.
Yeah I'm a rocket ship on my way to Mars / On a collison course / I'm a satellite I'm out of control / "I'm a sex machine, ready to RELOAD / Like an atom bomb, about to/ Oh Oh OH OH Oh Explode / If you wanna have a good tiiiime, just gimme a call / Don't stop me now.... Don't stop me now.... I don't wanna stop at aaaaalll."
And then that slow fade out - "La da da dahh.... oooh oooh ohhh." He croons into the microphone like nails on a chakboard, pointing out at the crowd again - song ends, he drops the mic and wanders off the stage without a word - but he flips a finger towards some people in the back, cracking a grin despite himself.
What an absolutely -perfect- time to arrive. That's what the look on Avalon's face telegraphs, as she comes in just in time to see Jack's toothy grin and...oh sweet goddess. Is he? Yes. Yes he is. Arms lift, and she gives a double thumbs-up towards the stage. The witch is wearing a black tank top, 'My Tarot Cards Say NO' writ across the chest. Jeans, and a burntout velvet kimono worn over it all, fringe swaying to and fro.
Poppy gives Cardinal an interested look, but then grins broadly at the show on stage - it seems she's more than happy to see someone enjoying themselves, even if they're off key as hell. And hey, the dancing isn't terrible. Entertainment is entertainment. She stretches out in her chair, crossing her feet at the ankles, expression amused.
Michelle applauds with a grin, despite grimacing at points during the man in the black tee's performance. If he passes by her table, she gives him a high five. "Well done, points for bravery and enthusiasm," she says, amused.
Notably, one of the techs winces when Jack -drops- the mic rather than treating it kindly, rolling his eyes and muttering something too quietly to be heard.
Cardinal is all overenthusiastic clapping as Jack's performance approaches its climax, her bracelets a riotous rattle as she cheers in the only way she can, with bright, percusive noise. Her arms are up over her head, and she's jumping up and down, her face utterly beaming with joy for her cousin's ballsy attempt at some Queen.
Oh... Oh my. Franklyn Garreau stops - midway through trying to figure out a drinks order, she's become entranced - captivated - entirely fixated on the Messy Business which is happening up over there on yonder stage. Her hands go down, flat on the table where Michelle is - propping herself up as he mouth drops open and she -gawks-.
"What... The... Fuck."
Franklyn is not prepared for this. Laughter has not started. Will it start? She turns, looking from Poppy to C.B. to Michelle, who finally gets her reply on what Franky wants to drink: "A lot."
C.B. mostly looks confused. He doesn't know the song, which just adds to his drunken confusion. He still hasn't entirely sat down -- he's just sort of hovering near Michelle and Poppy's table, drinking from his own flask rather than buying a drink at the bar. He hasn't even seemed to have registered Michelle's question. Why is he here again?
Michelle looks to Franklyn and C.B., noticing how intoxicated they already are. She raises a brow. "Pre-drinking and you're already wanting a lot? C'mon now." And then she turns to C.B., lightly swatting at his hand. "Put that away."
Jack doesn't like crowds much and keeps hovering somewhere where there's less people. Which is hard. He finds Avalon in the crowd finally, and gives her a wave back and a quick somewhat drunk grin.
That mic-drop is met with a wince, but a certain blonde is already getting to her feet - apparently it's her turn. Poppy makes her way up onto the stage, heels clicking sharply against the flooring as she sways into place, claiming the microphone along the way. Once the audience has quieted down some - or even if they haven't, really, she gives a bright, almost mischievous smile as a rather orchestral-sounding, bouncing rhythm starts to play, quite at odds with the previous style of music.
After the intro is done, the siren brings the microphone towards her red-painted lips and starts to sing a potentially familiar song, "I admit that in the past I've been a nasty/ They weren't kidding when they called me, well, a witch/ But you'll find that nowadays/ I've mended all my ways/ Repented, seen the light, and made a switch. . ." Is she singing "Poor Unfortunate Souls?" It seems like it, and she's going in for both song and performance, strutting her way back and forth and gesturing along with the song - "And I fortunately know a little magic," is presented with a sly, sharp grin, and the aside of "Pathetic" is confided to the right side of the audience with a theatrical eyeroll. It's clear that she's enjoying herself to the hilt as she launches into the chorus, opalescent eyes glittering, "Poor, unfortunate souls. . ."
The lifted hand, and that bright hair, are quick to catch Avalon's eye. The witch makes her way over towards Vinnie's table, slipping around to give a cheeksmooch to her before flopping down in the space beside her. "I got here just in time, it seems," she muses, "To see an old family friend make good on Freddy." There's a grin towards Jack's direction, before she looks toward the stage. Oh, hey, she knows her too. "Please, Vinnie my dearest, dearest Voice of Reason. Don't let me get up on that stage with no less than five shots in me."
Michelle laughs, and claps when she recognizes the song--in a note or two, naturally, being a fellow songstress.
It's an unfamiliar face that next makes its way through the doors of the club. Briar has dressed himself up a bit for the occasion. Not /that/ much, but he's wearing an actual nice button-up shirt and khakis instead of his usual casual wear. Still got the blackbird necklace around his neck, though. Never goes anywhere without it.
He arrives just in time to lean, hands in his pockets, against a patch of wall somewhere and listen to... "Poor Unfortunate Souls", apparently, which gets him grinning like a complete fucking goof. His one eye watches Poppy intently as she sings, and anyone actually watching him can see him mouthing along to the words.
Laughter can be heard from the vicinity of the karaoke jockey's place, Shanta grinning at the paraplegic, yet far more attractive 'Ursula' on stage while prospective performers quietly chat about musical options with the KJ.
"Hey! /You/ asked." Franklyn chimes in Michelle's direction, only to give a dismissive little hand wave when the protest re: flask is given. It's quickly followed by Frank trying to nab it from C.B. - hip checking him, while looking out a the stage as Jack wanders off. He gets a wolf whistle -- nature cop, right? Yeah.
But before Franklyn can actually howl, she gets distracted with Poppy and--- oh, oh that's just a funny choice. Frank laughs and covers her mouth again, looking to C.B. and chattering as if the author has any idea what's happening. "Flotsam and Jetsam. What's the right song to sing? 'Idiot wind'?"
When Poppy bursts into the chorus, a few voices in the crowd join her, words slurred or, in one memorable case, suddenly cut off by a less-inebriated friend's hand. This is a mercy to the world.
It appears she's skipping all the chatter between the sea witch and the mermaid, as once she's done with the chorus and outlining the consequences of failed deals, Poppy launches directly into, "You'll have your looks,/ Your pretty face!/ And don't underestimate the importance of body language!" That line is accompanied by the inevitable hip-roll, the siren and those stiletto-heeled boots making it much more suggestive than the cartoon. Well, it isn't a kids' show. After a few unflattering, if slyly-sung comments about men's expectations of a female to be voiceless, she slides back into the chorus, "Come on, you poor unfortunate soul/ Go ahead/ Make your choice!/ I'm a very busy woman and I haven't got all day/ It won't cost much/ Just your voice!"
Purple-tentacled leggings catch the stage lights as she struts back and forth, eyes bright, and she launches into the conclusion of the song, the right side of the stage again standing in for the eels, "Take a gulp and take a breath/ And go ahead and sign the scroll/ Flotsam, Jetsam, now I've got her, boys/ The boss is on a roll!/ This poor! Unfortunate! Soul!" Whatever else, girl's got a set of pipes and a willingness to use them as she strikes a Broadway-style pose for that final line, stance wide with one hand in the air, the other holding the microphone to her lips.
Michelle rolls her eyes and goes to get drinks. Whiskey sours all around, top shelf booze. She passes the Bishop, and nods at him, giving him an upnod. "Hey, Bish," she says softly. He may not even hear or be able to acknowledge, but she waits by the bar for her drinks.
No, C.B. doesn't know this song either. "What are these...what the hell are people even doing?" he exclaims, gesturing towards Poppy. "I mean, she always sounds great, but..." For whatever reason, he passes another quick squinty glance towards Vinnie before he drunkenly tells Michelle, "They want this? They'll have to kick me out." He easily hands it over to Frank, though.
Cardinal excitedly signs through some of the song, watching from her spot at the bar with wide, entranced eyes, like this is maybe the best thing she's ever seen. Since her cousin singing Queen, anyway.
Jack shoots Franklyn a small mock-glare, but it's good-natured. He tries his best to resist the lure of the music, but finds himself tapping fingers against his arm - then he frowns a bit and looks at Red, raising an eyebrow. Moves a big closer, protectively. Like a big brother. He has no idea Cardinal doesn't need his protection much.
Briar happens to be standing near the right-hand side of the stage, and when that last note finally dies away, he's one of those clapping and cheering hardest. He puts up one fist in a congratulatory motion, during one moment where Poppy happens to glance his way. God, that buck-toothed, one-eyed grin is goofy to watch.
Poppy grins again, taking an honest-to-god, florid bow, then replaces the microphone in the stand - likely to the relief of the tech people, then blows a theatrical kiss to the audience before swaying off again, heels clicking against the flooring as she makes her way back to the table. Sprawling in a chair, she glances bar-wards, perhaps checking to see where Michelle has gotten to.
Cardinal's damned near as enthusiastic for Poppy as she had been for Jack, but there's no jumping this time around, just that fierce, jangly applause. And then she's tapping her cousin's elbow to let him know she's moving on. It's her turn to head toward the stage. To moon everyone, maybe.
Jack applauds Poppy - he's quite impressed. Showing it with an appreciative nod her way too. But no cheering, no great displays of emotion. He takes out his phone again, checks it, glares at it, tucks it away. Whomever he's waiting for is late. Very late. "Kill'em," he tells his cousin, grinning at her fondly.
Well this is just over/welming/, isn't it Franklyn!? She might be laughing and fluttering and drinking smuggled in whiskey and looking every which way as she nudges C.B. with her hip, but Franklyn looks like she is quite possibly Way Too Drunk to deal with what's going on, or Seriously Not Drunk Enough. "Perfection, perfection -- but also, absurdity? It's like those sculptures -- a crumpled plastic cup, rendered in bone china and gold leaf, you know? A cigarette butt made out of saffron and hand-milled rice paper and real cork..." What is she even talking about?! A hand is raised to wave to Jack as the Nature Cop passes by - giving Cardinal a wink and a wave because... Because she can?
At least Frank is a happy drunk. For now.
Michelle returns with--thankfully--a waiter in tow, with four whiskey sours on the tray. She settles in at her table again, and smiles at everyone. "Whiskey sours, top shelf," she announces, and tips the waitress, before sipping at hers.
Franklyn's babbling is met with a wry smile - maybe she's actually following it, who knows? - then Poppy twists to face Michelle and the waiter, claiming a whiskey sour with a murmured thanks and sipping from it as she turns her attention back towards the stage, humming idly under her breath as she waits for the new singer to take the stage.
Briar watches the crowds for a moment, then shrugs to himself and wanders over towards Michelle, CB, Poppy, and the intensely drunk Franklyn's table. "Hey there," he says brightly as he approaches. "Room for one more?"
Michelle gestures. "Sure," she says brightly to the hare. "I'm Michelle."
"Hey, cheers." Briar lowers himself into the open seat, grinning that buck-toothed grin again. "Sorry to interrupt, but I'm new in town. Figured I'd come out and meet the locals. Name's Briar. Nice t' meetcha."
The crowd, eager for more, mills around to the club's more typical electronic music while waiting for someone else to take the stage. Cardinal attracts some speculative looks and a few wolf whistles when it appears she's going up next!
Cardinal is probably not the ideal person to participate in public karaoke. Has anyone heard her speak in the last year or so? Still, here she is, confident as hell, her song picked out, her smile steady as she moves the mic out of the way. She won't be needing that. Her shirt, declaring her a HUG DEALER, and that cute grey and pink outfit don't seem to match the music that starts up. X Gon Give It to Ya by DMX. (https://youtu.be/fGx6K90TmCI) With sound effects, but no singing. Who knows how much of this the audience is gonna catch. Right. Her hands lift in 'bark bark' gestures as she settles into the right posture, the right attitude for the song. The opening 'yeah's aren't quite signed, marked with gestures. <<Don't get it twisted.>> The signing starts fairly low-key, though she hits the profanity hard. <<This rap shit is mine, motherfucker. It's not a fucking game.>> She starts to ramp up as she signs, <<Fuck what you heard. It's what you hearing. Listen. It's what you hearing. Listen. It's what you hearing. Listen. It's what you hearing. Listen!>>
The song goes quiet for a couple beats, nothing but drums. Then Cardinal starts laying it down, signing over the music without any words coming through the sound system to translate for her. <<Red gonna give it to ya. Fuck waiting for you to get it on your own, Red's gonna deliver to ya!>> She 'knock knocks' and opens up a door. <<It's real! With the nonstop-->> She makes a gesture like she's shooting a gun 'pop pop!' <<And stainless steel. Goin' hard. Getting busy with it.>> Her expression might look harder if she didn't have on shimmery pink lip gloss as she continues, onto, <<No matter how many cats I break bread with, I'll break who you're sending me!>>
Michelle stares at the girl up on stage rapping with her hands. She looks impressed. "Whoa," she whispers very, very quietly.
Poppy grins warmly at Briar, offering him a hand. "Poppy," she replies cheerfully. "Nice to fucking meet you." Opalescent eyes glint at that. Then she turns her attention to the stage, grinning in an incredibly pleased way Cardinal starts signing rather than rapping. Her drink is put down and she actually rather enthusiastically signs something back at the person on stage. Is there profanity in that? Please. Probably.
Does Avalon know sign language? Nope. Not at all. But there's an undeniable fierceness to the woman on stage. Local, she's not completely unfamiliar with Elizabeth Fry. But it's been a while. And that, that is a performance. She brings fingers to lips to let out a shrill whistle of appreciation. It matches the more quiet, "Damn, Girl."
Jack startles as the music starts up - he wasn't expecting that, for sure. His shoulders shake for a bit as he's laughing quietly to himself over there, then he focuses and watches the performance - entranced by her signing, the whole performance. Biased too, of course, but it's definitely different and memorable. He taps his foot and nods his head in rhytm to the rap - he gives her a thumbs up and grins at her.
Briar doesn't actually catch the fact that there's somebody else on stage. Not immediately, anyway. He just gives Poppy's hand a shake. "Well, glad to hear some enthusiasm, anyway," he says. The cursing gets a laugh out of him, but when she signs something up to the stage, and Michelle starts whispering, he turns his head - those who can see his Mien catch his ears swiveling first - to look up at the stage. And, when he sees Cardinal signing, he laughs and claps his hands together. Yep. Still looks like a complete goof.
Hey, C.B.'s at least as intensely drunk as Franklyn. He's not even sitting -- just standing there, swaying, trying to get his flask back from Frank, and when the whiskey sour arrives, pounding down half of it in a go and then complaining that it's not straight whiskey. Real classy. He squints at Briar, recently arrived at his table, giving him a 'Who the hell are you?' look. Cardinal's song? Yeah, that's a third song he doesn't know. Just give up now, Ceebs.
Cardinal moves through the refrain with enthusiasm, every reference to X replaced with Red, making the song hers. She points to Poppy at one point, knowing at least someone knows what's going on. <<First we gonna rock! Then we gonna roll! Then we let it pop! Go! Let it go!>> She's all a rattle of bracelets and charms as she makes full use of the stage while moving her arms in hard, rapid motions. <<Ain't never gave nothing to me, but every time I turn around cats got their hands out wanting something from me. I ain't got it so you can't get it!>> The song goes on as she stomps and signs, looking so tough in her pretty pink and grey, scrawny and luminous little moonbeam. <<You against me. Me against you. Whatever, whenever. The fuck you gonna do! I'm a wolf in sheep's clothing!>> She tilts her head back to mimic howling even as she keeps going. <<Wanna fight me? Fight these tears! I put in work, and it's all for the kids, but these cats done forgot what work is. They don't know who we be. They don't know who they see.>> She finishes it out with the repetition of the refrain, trying to get the crowd to, uh... join in. They can see the lyrics, right?
By the end, she's just jumping around the stage, cheering on everyone else, a jangling moonbeam of pure joy. She nearly vibrates with silent laughter when she's done, bowing at the waist, deep and low, one direction then the next, before dashing back toward the bar.
Michelle begins to sing/rap along, in joy. This is her era. Her music. She's a happy little Treasured at the moment, topaz eyes shining eerily.
Shanta's eyebrows go up, and stay up, incredulous at first, then pleasantly surprised at the way Cardinal's -owning- that rap. She gives the Fry a more speculative look, evaluating something, and leans over to murmur something to the karaoke jockey, who quietly says something back.
The other patrons, too, aren't sure at first how to take this silent 'singing' on the dais, but after a single loud voice comments, "Fuck! That girl's got -balls-!" a ripple of laughter and, subsequently, scattered clapping and cheers comes from the sides of the room. Not everybody quite understands the request to join in, but enough of them do that the rest catch on, and the applause is every bit as enthusiastic as it was for Poppy, in the end.
Franklyn gives a little hop as Briar moves on in -- looking the very tall fellow up and down, laughing and leaning back and most certainly drunk, yes. Her necklaces and bangles go jingle-jangle, but it's probably just noise all lost in the din of the club - her biggest contribution is light; reflected off all those shiny things, rings included. "You just hop off the bus from..." Then her nose wrinkles and she laughs. "Oh you're /local/. Who =are= you? I don't know you're face. Oh, did you just get back from..." Another glance up and down. "Do you work in agriculture? Permaculture? Grow weed?"
Yes. She is drunk. Franklyn is also going to try and commandeer the whiskey sour from C.B. -- while her attention gets snatched up by Cardinal's performance. Ooooh. At least all those sweet moves gets her distracted from thievery and soliciting drugs.
C.B.' squint is given a sympathetic look, although she doesn't try to force him into a seat; maybe she figures he can manage on his own. Poppy grins at Cardinal's acknowledgment of her signing and seems more than happy to join in on the words, however the hell she knows them, occasionally pausing to sip from her drink. When the woman finishes her piece, she applauds enthusiastically.
Jack claps enthusiastically and joins Cardinal at the bar. "That was amazing," he tells her, all goofy proud. "I need to learn sign language," he slurrs, checking his phone absentmindedly again. But it seems he's forgetting all about it, ordering four shots, two for himself and two for Cardinal if she wants them. His are finished immediately either or. "Sorry Red - I'm drunk as hell, I'm heading home. We'll catch up soon, yeah?"
Briar doesn't seem all that put off by C.B.'s cool reception. He just gives the guy another buck-toothed grin - he seems to have plenty of those to go around - and flashes a silent thumbs up. Then Franklyn's talking, and he looks back to her. "Yeah, I'm local," he says, nodding. "Been away a bit, though. More than eight years, at this point. Just got back in town the other day, thought I'd come see what the night life was like now." The other question gets a laugh. He's got a surprisingly deep voice, really. "Nah, none'a that," he says, shaking his head. "I do yoga instruction. Personal training, sometimes. What about you?"
Cardinal should probably just, ya know, nod like a normal person to Jack, but instead she throws her arms around him and gives her cousin an big old hug. When she lets go, she signs a, <<Thank you.>> When she steps up to the bar, she asks for a pen and paper, writing down her order, which comes in a martini glass. And is a rather magnificent shade of neon blue. Plunking her skinny butt down on a bar stool, she sets down to just listen, her work here done.
C.B. just scowls at Briar's grin. And thumbs up. No. None from him. He does not let Franklyn steal his whiskey sour because he is going to finish it and put the glass down. He mutters something to her and stares over at the door.
Jack is surprised at first, but hugs Cardinal back - and noogies the top of her head, not very hard. "Brat," he tells her. "Don't do anything I would do." He gives her a wink, finishes off another shot and then throws some waves out in directions he thinks some friends might be before he makes his way out of there, leaning on a few chairs to make sure he'll walk straight.
Tryp arrives. Late to the party but you know. That's what she does. She moves through into the room looking about and trying to see if she spies anyone she knows. CB gets a bit of a wave - she remembers his cat more than him probably - but otherwise she doesn't seem to notice anyone she knows. So she picks a place at random, which is to say where the most changelings are. Seeing as that table has no seats she pulls one over next to their table, flips it around and throws her leg over it Commander Riker style (which is a feat for such a tiny girl) and settles into it backwards. "Howdy there friendly folks. You all look rather special in one way or another, so I'll join ya. Names Tryptych, but everyone calls me Tryp. Nice ta meetcha." Then well. Singing. Karooke. She snags a drink from a passing waitress and hoots and hollars at the stage.
Franklyn laughs. Oh dear - how she laughs when Briar says 'yoga instructor'. Is it rude? Maybe -- but on the other hand, the Garreau woman is, uh, quite toasted. Not so toasted that she can't belatedly realise that C.B. is not only denying her a drink, but also speaking and looking over yonder. She starts to nod, hazily -- and then yanks on the author arm, walking backwards and half stumbling over her feet and grinning as she murmurs whatever it is to her Alexandrian companion.
Wait. Is Franklyn leaving? With no goodbyes? That -is- rude!
The next to head up toward the stage is, for anyone familiar with the local high school-aged sports teams, the mid-forties wife of the local baseball coach, tall, frizzy-haired and dressed in a sequined top. Her husband is right there with her, a little bit older, balding, with the very beginning of a belly.
When the music starts ( https://youtu.be/gJLIiF15wjQ ), Mrs. Coach laughs, and lifts her mic. "Yo, I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want," and Mr. Coach, playing the part of a very, ah, masculine Spice Girl, echoes, "So tell me what you want, what you really, really want!"
The pair takes turns, clearly having a great time with it, and not the slightest bit embarrassed, despite the fact that Mr. Coach's singing voice isn't the greatest, and Mrs. Coach is totally a mom-dancer.
"I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want
So tell me what you want, what you really, really want
I wanna, (ha) I wanna, (ha) I wanna, (ha) I wanna, (ha)
I wanna really, really, really wanna zigazig ah
If you want my future, forget my past
If you wanna get with me, better make it fast
Now don't go wasting my precious time
Get your act together we could be just fine..."
Thankfully, the song doesn't require a great deal of musical skill, and they make up for lack of pop-talent with energy and genuine chemistry, telling each other what they really, really want.
"If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends
(Gotta get with my friends)
Make it last forever, friendship never ends
If you wanna be my lover, you have got to give
(You've got to give)
Taking is too easy, but that's the way it is..."
Eventually, the song ends, with both singing:
"Slam your body down and wind it all around
Slam your body down and zigazig ah
If you wanna be my lover!"
They hug each other, laughing, out of breath, and Mrs. Coach takes a curtsey before leaving the stage. Mr. Coach reaches out to take the mic from her, which she releases with another laugh, and the duo heads back to their table, fingers finding each other to hold hands as they walk.
Michelle grins and applauds for the couple. "Nicely done!" Then she takes a breath and-- "That's me, I'm up." She blows a kiss to everyone at her table before strutting up to the stage, where--what the hell is this. Some weird jazzy... 40s thing? ( https://youtu.be/iyTTX6Wlf1Y ) Then she starts to sing, and -wow-. Between her smoky alto voice and the words... << Because you know I'm all about that bass, about that bass, no treble. >> She wriggles seductively to the jazz cover of the body-positive song, eyes shining. She's in her element, the Treasured Di-Cang, all shimmery and sparkly to Fae eyes as she moves around the stage.
Poppy gives Briar's comment an interested look; Tryp's arrival is rewarded with a cheerful wave. Franklyn and C.B's exit has her waving at the pair - whether they pay attention or not - then she sips from her drink, returning her attention to the stage. The enthusiastic couple is met with cheerful applause. As Michelle heads towards the stage, she winks to the other woman, settling in to listen with a smile.
Briar blinks, looking nonplussed, at Franklyn's laughter and subsequent disappearance. "Huh," he says. Then he chuckles. "Well, glad I'm entertaining, anyway." He nods towards Poppy's little glance, and then Michelle is on the stage, and his one eye is fixed firmly on her, both eyebrows raised. He whistles under his breath at the performance.
Cardinal slips out, quite as can be, once her blue drink's all gone, here for the trouble, gone before anyone can notice.
Edmond comes in the back with his phone, because he's not sure if-- HEY THERE'S POPPY. He's uncharacteristically dressed in jeans with artful rips in them, an Offspring t-shirt (though unsurprisingly it's vivid green and has loud art), and very affected Punk Stylings. He's even put product in his hair to give himself kind of a Mike Ness thing going on in front because he can't have enough 90s punk. And he beelines for Poppy as soon as he sees her and presses his phone into her hands. "Please can you film me for Kelsey! In case he misses it. Also I may put it on youtube!" And he leans in and whispers his current unlock code and then shuts up for Michelle.
The room isn't quite sure WHAT to think of Michelle, but it's a surety that all eyes are on her while she's singing, and many a drink is toasted to her when she's done!
Michelle rips into that second verse, throwing her head back. << I'm bringin' booty baaaack, >> she wails, singing something about telling other people that. << No I'm just playing I know y'all think you're fat / but I'm here to tell you / every inch of you is perfect from the bottom to the top! >> The song ends a few moments later, and she takes a breath before giving a little bow and a soft "Thanks" to the sound guys. She puts the microphone back primly before stepping off the stage and walking confidently back to her seat, where she greets Edmond and Tryptych a little breathlessly!
Tryp gets the drink she wanted, and takes a big ol gulp out of it. She then moves her chair a bit closer to the table now that several people have left it. "So. Any of you," she says to the table about her, but isn't trying to hide anything. "Wanna sing a duo like her? I'm thinking maybe some Meatloaf or some maybe Evanesence?" whoa. thats a bit of a difference." Then there is a freakin SIREN on stage, and well... she is taken into it too. She absently sips her drink and listens, agreeable to it as she bops her head, such that Edmonds arrival (of yet another punky type) goes almost unnoticed. "Heeeeyyy..." she gets out with an impish giggle.
Poppy looks over at Edmond as he approaches her, then arches an eyebrow - first at his current mode of dress, then as the phone pressed into her hands. A quick grin and nod, then her attention slides back stagewards, the phone set absently on the suface of table. When Michelle wraps the song, she applauds enthusiastically, however, adding in a loud whistle.
Are there drinks? Yes, there are. Avalon's had at least three shots of Bad Life Choices Tequila at this point, and there's a dangerously bright colored drink in front of her that very nearly matches Vinnie's hair. "Oh hell," she says lowly to her companion, clapping at the end of Michelle's song. "I need to pick worse bars to go to karaoke in. Everyone's bringing their A game."
Briar gives a short little laugh as Michelle returns to the table, clapping slowly and shaking his head. "Man, and I was thinking all this was gonna be a bunch of middle-aged off-keys," he says, to no one in particular. "Makes me feel like I oughta pack it up for the night. Can't follow that act." Edmond and Tryp each get a nod of greeting, and Tryp in particular gets a broad, crooked, buck-toothed grin. "Uh," he says, "I think I'm gonna pass. I'd look like an idiot tryin' to follow anybody here. But it's a good idea."
Vinnie tilts Martha--the big 64 oz slurpee of amalgamated colors she's smuggled in--toward Avalon to toast, vodka-tainted icee to terrible tequila. "You should've seen amateur strip night. Felt like I fit in there a liiiiittle bit more." Doesn't look like she intends to move up onto the stage any time soon.
Edmond's eyes go wide, and he starts clapping-- then sticks two fingers in his mouth and lets out a taxi whistle of appreciation. "Holy mother of fuck, that was amazing!" he enthuses, flailing his hands around as she comes back to the table he's just stolen a seat at. He's about to go on at length when he gets a Look from the signups person and clears his throat. "I am not," he says firmly, "going to worry about following an act like that. I cannot hope to match it, so I shall not try!"
Then the kid-- well, he sure looks like a kid, maybe nineteen, with black hair and dark skin and startlingly blue eyes, and a very very distinctly British South Indian accent-- puts some swag in his step as he goes up to the stage and takes the mic, then flashes a huge thumbs-up to the DJ. "Hello I am Edmond Basumatary! I will be performing a song by Blink-182!"
Oh no.
"What's My Age Again!" he chortles, and then actually really dextrously awesomely starts to bollywood dance to 90s pop punk because /why the hell not/. He comes in right on time and right in key, a rich and cultured tenor, and the OC pop punk accent does not mix well with his own, but he gives it his best shot anyway. "I took him out, it was a Friday night / I wore cologne to get the feeling right / We started making out and he took off my pants / but then I turned on the TV~!"
Michelle high fives Edmond as he heads up to the stage, after hugging him back ferociously. "Thanks! Break a leg," she enthuses, before smiling around the table. "Michelle," she says to Tryptych, by way of introduction. She finishes her whiskey sour and sighs contentedly. "Your turn," she says to Poppy, eyes sparkling.
Avalon's glass is easily lifted in toast, as she lets out a laugh. "Oh man, I can't believe that I missed that. Not that I'd feel any more comfortable on a pole." Her eyes move back to the stage as another person takes it, and her head tilts a bit at the accent - and then the song choice. "Well, this is a different blend."
Poppy grins brightly at Edmond, pale fingers entering the unlock into the phone. The siren rather quickly pulls up the camera feature, flipping it to video, then settles in to watch and record. There might be a smothered laugh at that introduction for Kelsey to hear later whenever they watch, but she at least keeps the phone relatively stable as she records the song and dance routine.
Briar just kind of... stares. Both as Michelle comes back down towards the table and as Edmond launches into his... performance. His one eye just keeps itself fixed on the stage, his head tilting slowly further and further over to one side. Both of those long ears are twitching faintly.
After a while, he says, apparently to no one in particular, "I really don't know what I'm watching right now."
When the rest of the club hears the song, there's a smattering of laughter, along with one particularly enthusiastic, "Why are your clothes still on?!"
Michelle grins. "You're looking at adorable win," she informs Briar. And she grins at Edmond, giving a thumbs up enthusiastically. "Kickin' ass, Ed!" she yells cheerfully, encouraging the Elemental.
When the instrumental comes in, he swaps out of the graceful Indian dancing into straight up jumping up and down, ferociously almost headbanging-- and then the words come in again and he's belting them out, "THAT IS ABOUT THE TIME THAT HE SET FIRE TO MEEE! Nobody likes you when you're twenty-threeee! And I'm still more amused by TV shows! What the hell is A.D.D.?? My friends say I should ACT MY AGE! But what's my age again, what's my age again?"
Edmond calms down a little into the next verse, exaggeratedly winking at the person who called out about his clothes, and he pulls up his shirt one-handed over his head and flings it into the audience. "Then later on, on the drive home, I called his mom from a pay phone. I said I was a cop, but that he's not in jail, because our business is for nobody! AND THAT'S ABOUT THE TIME THAT SHE HUNG UP ON MEEE--"
Basically this keeps going. This keeps going super enthusiastically, and he's hot and that probably does more for the performance than anything else, especially since some of his lyrics changes make very little sense. Finally, "No one should take themselves so seriously! With many years ahead to fall in line, why would you wish that on me? I never want to act my age, what's my age again?"
He skips the last line of the actual music and stops still on the stage, glistening and breathing heavily and grinning like the devil, and whispers into the mic, "What is my age, again..?"
...and then walks off the stage, handing the mic off.
Poppy remains silent, but then, she's recording the whole thing so it's likely she's trying to avoid adding extraneous sound to the video. She is grinning brightly, however, eyes sparkling with humor. At least the phone isn't shaking, although it's a close call, particularly towards the end of the song. The siren seems somewhat grateful when she can hit 'stop' on the recording, then begins giggling before she sets down the electronics and applauds.
Michelle applauds wildly at Edmond's approach back to the table. "You fuckin' killed it!" she crows, cheerily. "I think that was amazing!" She grins and hugs him tight! "I can't wait to see Kelsey's reaction!"
A fair number of dancers are right out there on the floor, banging right along with Edmond the Enthusiastic, and when he's done, they clap and laugh along with many others scattered throughout the club.
Edmond raises double fists in the air, hollering YEAH to the audience, then swags right back to the table and grins wide and bright white at Poppy and Michelle. "Thank you, thank youuu," he says with a breathless laugh, hands together in front of him, giving a little bow. And then he plops back in his seat to catch his breath, and starts giggling himself, waving cheerily at the people there he hasn't actually met yet-- Briar and Tryp.
Briar just blinks a few times, grins to himself, and shakes his head as Edmond's performance comes to a close. Then, when the other man finally makes his way back down to the table, he flashes another thumbs-up. "Hey, man," he says. "Wish I had half your energy, some days."
"Edmond is a fucking font of energy," Poppy says wryly, even as she returns the phone over to the subject of her comment. Taking a sip of her whiskey sour, she settles back in her chair rather bonelessly, giving the DJ an interested look to see if it looks like they're prepping for the next singer.
Michelle gets up in the meantime. "Who's drinking? I guess this round's on me again." But she sounds chipper enough. "I want a Dark and Stormy; anyone else wanna drink?"
"Though perhaps I might have been more cautious about throwing my shirt away," Edmond says with just a hint of rue. He gratefully accepts his phone back from Poppy, flashing her another grin, then oohs at Michelle. "A fancy beer, please! I do not care what kind."
Vinnie sets her drink down and leans in toward Avalon to murmur something. She's got the manners to wipe her damp hands on her technicolor skirt before grabbing her friend's arm to give a little tug. Then it's off to the karaoke operator and onto stage. She looks like some bizarre, dressed down version of Cher from Clueless, that bright pleated skirt, the high socks, that tee shirt with its irreverent declaration of SORRY I'M NOT LISTENING at an event made for listening. As she waits picks up a mic and waits for Avalon, the first notes of Iggy Azalea's Fancy start to play.
"I'll have what he's havin'," says Briar, lifting a hand to point at Edmond. "I'm not particular. Nothin' too strong, though."
Poppy grins at Michelle. "Given that I can walk my fucking ass home, I vote for a second whiskey sour. Again, you're goddamn amazing - and not just the singing." A wink for the Treasured, then she looks back towards the other people at her table, smirking at Edmond's comment. "You get to explain that shit to Kelsey, not me. Or I could, but then you're leaving that explanation to me, and I assure, I will make shit up." A sharp smile, then she turns her attention to Vinnie as the woman makes her way towards the stage, whistling.
Sadly, Avalon does not have a plaid mini skirt on. But the 'My Tarot Cards Say NO' tanktop that she's wearing it out loud and proud, along with the scores of bangles on her wrists, all of those rings on her fingers. She's finally got enough booze in her to think that this is a GREAT idea. And so, she's tugged along, picking up a mic of her own. Does she know the little dance moves from the video? Hell yes. Is she good at them? Well. That's up for debate.
Michelle nods and heads to the bar to grab another whiskey sour for Poppy, a Dark and Stormy for herself, and two Desrochers' signature Imperial Double Chocolate Stouts--the Double Jump. She returns with a waitress in tow, and helps pass out drinks.
"First things first, I'm the realest." Vinnie's got all the Iggy swagger, like she's practiced this in the mirror. "Drop this and let the whole world feel it. And I'm still in the murder bidness. I can hold you down like I'm giving lessons in physics. Right right. You should wanna bad bitch like this." She drops low rather suddenly, squatting with knees parted wide, flashing some members of the audience a view of cobalt blue panties. "Drop it low and pick it up just like this." She rises as she continues. "Cup o' ace, cup o' goose, cup o' cris, high heels, something work half-a-ticket on my wrist. Taking all the liquor straight, never chase that. Rooftop like we bringing '88 back. Bring the hooks in, see, where the bass at. Champagne spillin', you should taste that." Grinning like a proud ass motherfucker, she steps aside to let Avalon step up.
Briar accepts his beer with a grateful nod, then lifts the glass towards the stage and cheers with the rest of the audience before taking a drink.
"Eh, Kelsey will be pleased when I arrive shirtless. I believe they would prefer me to do as many things as possible without a shirt," Edmond tells Poppy cheerily, then accepts the double chocolate stout gleefully. He raises it in salute to Michelle, then to everyone, and then quiets down to listen as he drinks his beer and de-adrenalizes.
It's clear, as soon as the performance starts, why Vinnie is the Iggy of this duet. Avalon is the Good Witch of Tamarack Falls, while her partner in crime has a lot more spunk than she does - even drunk. But she's grinning like a fool as her friend takes the verse. And when she picks up the chorus of the song. "I'm so fancy! You already know. I'm in the fast lane -from L.A. to Tokyo!" Her non-mic hand out front, miming driving, swerving lanes as she booty drops to the beat of the music. "I'm so fancy, can't you taste this gold? Remember my name. 'Bout to bloooooooowwwww." A turn on her heels, and she's swaggering to stand behind Vinnie slightly, bopping up and down slightly.
Poppy sips from her drink, smirking at Edmond's response, but the majority of her attention is on the pair on stage. She grins at Vinnie's diving right into the song, slouching back in her seat, expression appreciative. And hey, the panty-shot isn't bad. That grin widens as Avalon takes over, and she finishes off her drink before starting on her second.
Vinnie's hips sway in time as Avalon croons out Charli's part, a wide, half-drunk grin on her vaguely orange-glossed lips, so damned proud of her partner picking up so effortlessly. "Baby, I do this," comes right in on time. "I thought that you knew this. Can't stand no haters, and honest, the truth is, and my flow retarded." She stumbles over a few of the words, but hits most of 'em and never breaks her confidence, her, "Swagger on super. I can't shop at no department. Better get my money on time. If there not money, decline." She flashes a grin at Poppy as she goes on. "I just can't worry 'bout no haters. Gotta stay on my grind. Now, tell me, who that, who that, that do that, do that? Put that paper over allI thought you knew that, knew that. I be that I-G-G-Y, put my name in bold. I been working, I'm up in here with some change to throw."
"I'm so fan-cy," Avalon picks back up again. "You already know. I'm in the fast lane - from L.A. to Tokyo! I'm so fancy, can't you taste this gold? Remember my name. 'Bout to bloooooWwwwww!" This time, she slithers her way down, shorty dropping it a little low before popping up as there are more lyrics for her to sing this time. She's lucky, in that her part has less words in more time to get out. Or maybe all that chanting in foreign tongues has more than one benefit in her life. "Trash the hotel! Let's get drunk on the mini bar. Make the phone call - Feels so good getting what I want. Yeah, keep on turning it up! Chandelier swinging, we don't give a fuck! Film star, yeah I'm deluxe! Classic, expensive, you don't get to touch! Ow...!" Apparently, the Good Witch has apparently found her White Girl Swagger somewhere, and slaps her ass at that 'ow', with more than a little sass. Winking to Vinnie, as she slips to her side. #girlgang. The pair wrap up the song, not perfect but clearly enjoying themselves. There is no mic drop from Avalon as she bounces off the stage.
Vinnie is all laughter toward the end, missing her words as they draw it to a close, her arm briefly draped loosely over Avalon's shoulders as they bounce to the music. The brightness in her cheeks? Yeah, the orange-haired beauty might be a little more intoxicated than she realized, and the energy of performing live sure ain't helping clear that up none. This time, there's no rude salute to the crowd, she just follows on after her partner in crime at a slower pace, heading back to reclaim Martha. And maybe give her a little tequila. That's what vodka slushees need, right? Tequila?
Poppy winks at Vinnie's smile, grinning, then takes another sip of her drink, uncrossing and recrossing her ankles. Tilting her head to one side, that grin broadens as Avalon takes over again - or maybe it's for the continued profanity. Either way, she's clearly enjoying herself.
Briar is probably the only person remaining in the bar less than six drinks deep, except, perhaps, for the newly-arrived Edmond. He looks to be having the time of his life all the same, though. That stupid, buck-toothed grin hasn't left his face for close to twenty minutes. He takes another swallow from his beer, then cheers again as Avalon takes the spotlight.
Shanta takes up the mic to announce, "And for our last act of the night, we have an encore from Ursula herself! Come on up, your villainousness."
With a wink for Shanta, Poppy makes her way up on stage in those heels, claiming the microphone again and making sure it's slotted firmly into its stand in the middle of the stage, then turns the entire thing so that her back is to the audience. A glance and a wicked smile over her shoulder towards the audience, then she starts to sway those tentacle-clad hips as another orchestral piece of canned backup music starts, this one with a lazy-sounding xylophone and tambourine keeping the beat. Apparently it's Disney villain night for someone who doesn't seem to give a fuck.
"Well, Tamatoa hasn't always been this glam/ I was a drab little crab once/ " Pale fingers grasp the edges of her shirt, playing with the hem as she sings. " Now I know I can be as happy as a clam/ Because I'm beautiful baby..." The siren actually pulls her shirt off, revealing a gold-sequined crop-top underneath. Apparently someone has /planned/. The microphone is claimed from the stand and she spins to face the audience, then struts across the stage as she sings, eyes sparkling as she twirls her shirt in her free hand, "...Did your granny say, "Listen to your heart?"/ "Be who you are on the inside?"/ I need three words to tell her argument apart/ Your granny lied." The shirt goes sailing into the audience on that last line - possibly aimed at Edmond's head - and she launches into the chorus, "I'd rather be shiny..."
Briar almost chokes on his beer when Poppy strips off her shirt, only to laugh uproariously as the crop-top comes into view. He sets his drink down, grinning again, and claps vigorously for a moment - and then ducks as the discarded shirt comes flying over towards him, only narrowly missing to strike Edmond instead.
Vinnie just about *dies*. She's hardly been paying much mind all night, content to let nearly all the performances fall to background noise, but this one? The one that has Poppy's fingers playing at the hem of her shirt with the promise of skin... and a revelation of glittering gold sequins? She bursts out in riotous laughter, joining in others' utter delight of the gimmick. "Sing it, Glitter-tits!" Martha sloshes as it's held a loft in toast, though it'll be a moment before she can catch her breath consistently enough to drink through the straw.
And Edmond the latecomer, who tragically missed Poppy's first performance, is watching, entranced-- so entranced that he completely misses the shirt actively come flying at his face. Generally? He's great at dodging. Fantastic! He even does it better than making people laugh-- but oh, not so tonight. He gets it square in the face. So tonight, making people laugh > dodging, apparently. There's sputter-laughing from him, too, but he doesn't knoooow the song-- but that doesn't even make a difference.
He pulls Poppy's shirt on.
Again, it seems Poppy is skipping any character chatter, heading straight back into the verses with a sharp grin, "Well, well, well/ Little Maui's having trouble with his look/ You little semi-demi-minigod/ Ouch! What a terrible performance/ Get the hook (Get it?)/ You don't swing it like you used to, man," Those hips are making up more than enough for any lack of demigods, rolling in time to the music as the siren dips down briefly into a sinuous crouch despite those stilettos, then straightens as she segues into singing about appearances, tattoos, a second round of the chorus, and dismemberment with another sharp grin, eyes gleaming wickedly. Her expression turns briefly mock-tragic as she sings, "Far from the ones who abandoned you/ Chasing the love of these humans/ Who made you feel wanted/ You try to be tough/ But your armour's just not hard enough."
Another few bars as she struts the length of the stage again, gold-sequined top glittering in the stagelights, then she launches into the conclusion of the song, "Soak it in 'cause it's the last you'll ever see/ C'est la vie mon ami, I'm so shiny/ Now I eat you, so prepare your final plea/ Just for me/ You'll never be quite as shiny/ You wish you were nice and shiny!" Another Broadway-style pose ends the song, stance again wide with one hand in the air, eyes sparkling with humor.
Briar is bobbing along to the performance, swaying back and forth in his seat in between swigs of his beer. His one eye follows Poppy throughout the entire act, and when it ends, he lifts his glass high in the air as he cheers along with the rest of the audience.
"Oh my goddess, this is /fantastic/," the drunken Avalon says with the sort of genuine cheer that can come from Too Much Tequila and Who Knows What Else. There's a peal of laughter, and then a cheer as the siren continues on the stage. So Shiny, indeed!
Vinnie, turning a look toward the others in the crowd laughing along, catches sight of Edmond then elbows Avalon to draw her attention thattaway. She grins at the guy, waggling her dark brows like some sort of drunken creepo. Totally digging the open shoulder look.
Edmond, now resplendent in Poppy's cold shoulder shirt which is decidedly skintight on his frame-- which is slender, but certainly more broad than hers, claps loudly and hoots in delight. "Poppy! YOU ARE DELICIOUSLY VILLAINOUS AND I APPROVE OF ALL SHININESS!"
Poppy holds that pose for a moment, then, grinning like a maniac, takes another bow, winking at Edmond, before replacing the microphone in the stand before practically shimmying her way off the stage - clearly the woman's had practice in those heels - not quite skipping back to her table. She downs the rest of her whiskey sour in a shot, then flops into the chair again, giving Edmond an amused, sideways look for his wearing of her shirt. "Sexy," she comments dryly, eyes gleaming impishly.
Avalon, having had her attention drawn to Edmond, absolutely loses it. There's a cackle of laughter that any witch would be proud of, before she's whistling and clapping. "You killed it, Poppy!," she calls towards the woman before pulling out her phone. "I'mma get an Uber home, Vin." Leaning over, to shoulder bump her companion.
"I," says Edmond primly, "am quite sexy. Yes. Thank you very much. It is this magnificent shirt I have just been given, it enhances my natural appeal." But then he pauses and glances at Poppy sidelong. "Unless you want it back, then I will take it off once more." He flashes Avalon and Vinnie a quick crooked grin, and winks.
"How's about we share, yeah?" Vinnie suggests to Avalon, which almost certainly means that the business owner will be the one paying for both of 'em. Look, Vinnie's got a job, alright? It's just that she hates showing up for it. She slurps the rest of her slurpee, intent on leaving Martha behind. Seems Little Miss Party girl might be calling it an early night.
Poppy smiles warmly at Avalon, then grins at Briar. "Thanks," she belatedly replies cheerfully. Edmond's prim response is met with an arched eyebrow. "I mean, if you really fucking need it, you can use it to get home. Or to show off how fucking fabulous you are to your person when your ass gets home. I literally live up the goddamn street, so it isn't /that/ hard for me to get my own ass home without freezing." She smirks.
Briar downs the last of his beer, smacks his lips approvingly, and sets the glass aside. "Speakin' of," he says, "I should probably get going myself. Hotel's not /that/ close. Gotta start runnin' some time."
"I can get my own fabulous shirt, it is all right," says Edmond with a laugh, waving at the leaving people. "Bye!" Then he starts pulling Poppy's shirt off again. "This may all be true, but I would feel terrible about it later. Then he stands and bows over the shirt before handing it to Poppy and finishing his beere shirtlessly. "And I should get home too, so I can show my person this video you took. Thank you /so much/!"
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