Log:Open Mic @ CAT-22
| Open Mic @ CAT-22 | |
|---|---|
| Participants
CB, Candice, Cian, Clio, Count, Cressida, Dross, Franklyn, Green, Haruki, Itsuki, Mina, Noel, November, Teagan, Tom, Tristan, Ziv |
August 12, 2017 Open Mic Night isn't part of your system! Some things get thrown on the ground. Mostly feelings, if those count as things. |
| Location | |
| Open Mic Night @ Cat-22! It's...just like any other night at Cat-22, really, except that staff has shooed everyone off the small stage that's nestled near the back. The piano has been pulled up so it's imminently playable, and there are a few stools and different size mics up here as well. A small spotlight or two illuminates choice areas of the stage -- these can probably be adjusted accordingly. There's a wee soundboard down near the front of the stage but out of the way, should anyone need some canoodling there. Yep. It's ready for open mic shenanigans, alright. The workers are on hand to fill delicious drink and vegetarian food orders: booze, coffee, juice, pastries, cakes, sandwiches, soups, and tons of other things are available. As for Mister C.B. Alexander, well. He's your host for the evening. The man is up on stage, already wearing his silver wire-rimmed glasses as he helps adjust and test mics and talks to some other folks. He's wearing a red and yellow plaid work shirt tucked into worn Levi's, plus construction boots. A thoroughly normal C.B. outfit, truth be told. He looks grumpy, uh. As usual. And possibly a tad inebriated. He speaks into the mic. "Hey, people. We'll get started in a few minutes. Sign up here if you want to make my life easier -- " He waves a clipboard around. "Or don't. I don't care." Cat-22, here comes a mouse. She is very slight, delicate -- five feet if she's an inch. Her hair makes her seem taller, larger, more confident. ƒThat ringlet fro of wild curls that seem to do whatever they feel like. The rounded tips of her pink ears peek from the apple blossom dahlia dotted curls. Her eyes are large, round. Alert. She's wearing a sundress and sandals in earthy tones, comfortable as she pleases as she heads past the signup to find herself a seat. Haruki's dressed as a magician, as in he's all fancied up and is wearing a top hat, because clearly open mic night is a chance for him to work his magic. Maybe. If he hadn't completely forgotten about things until right now and anxiety wasn't setting in as to what he should perform and... breathe, nice and calm. He's a magician! He can do this for all that he's looking slightly flustered and frazzled and the whole idea of signing up... nope. Nope nope nope. He sits on his own. There's a piano. He could just... just... breathe. Steady calming breaths. It's all good. He does not have stage fright. Candice is already seated here, at a table with wooden chairs, having happily collected a few pastries, a glass of juice and somehow charmed a large pitcher of water from the staff, full of lukewarm water and with a very long straw directly placed inside the pitcher. She's a pretty, if somewhat strange figure, dressed in a modest cream dress with a red flower print and flats with pretty bows in front, and contrary to what anyone else does, when CB finishes telling people what needs to be done, she wholeheartedly applauds, quite cheerfully. Go CB! So instructive! Or maybe she's applauding the start of things? Who knows, but she's turning to look around the room, curiously seeing who else might be here or arrive. Having given Dross a ride in his meticulously cared for and maintained grandpa car, Tristan Darrow holds open the door for the man to precede him into Cat-22, following in afterward. He is dressed in his usual grey suit with a crisp white shirt and a deep blue tie. Upon entry, he begins to make his way toward the bar and asks Dross, "What would you like?" apparently intending to acquire beverages for the pair of them. "Do you want to choose seats?" presumably while he gets the drinks. One of those owner/workers serving up the drink and food is, (un)surprisingly, Mina. The woman's red hair has been pulled into a long, thick braid that wraps around and drapes over her left shoulder. She's wearing a black cropped tanktop, 'Queen of the Underworld' written across the chest in white, with pink flowers and spring green vines woven around. That flash of pale skin, before a black maxi skirt with slits up the sides take over, a pair of black sandals. Every now and then, she nurses her own cup of coffee - very heavily spiked coffee. Okay, let's be honest. It's more bourbon than coffee at this point. C.B. remains up at the stage for a little while longer, taking down names. And there are a few. He scowls when Candice applauds him, making a gesture like -- What?! His eyes rove around to the several people he knows, giving little salutes to Haruki and Dross as he taps his fountain pen across the clipboard. Oh aaaaaaand there's Mina. C.B.'s eyes linger on her a little longer. Should she glance his way, he will muster a small smile for her. Occasionally, he reaches down for the can of Narragansett Lager he's perched on one of the stools. Dross enters with Tristan: a tall, sharp-featured man, with dark hair and blue eyes. He wears a long, thin coat in Payne’s grey with the sleeves rolled up over a white shirt, collar open, black trousers, and black boots. A white gold pin shaped like a sword slicing through a knot is fastened to the upper part of one sleeve. He nods in response to Tristan’s question. Takes a slow, thorough look around the room, pale gaze pausing on each face in turn as if searching for something, then takes a seat near the back. He looks longest at the host of the evening, still busily moving about as he sets up on stage. Who's that girl?... It's Frank! Franklyn is paused at the door - there, she can be heard laughing and smoking and chattering to some sullen eyed girl in black and a super tall dude who for sure has two-toned hair and a literal face tattoos. Does Franklyn look put off by this? No. She's air kissing the both of them and waving the away with a cigarette, while pocketing... Something. Don't worry about it. Turning into the Collective, Franklyn is dressed in... Well, long swooshy palazzo pants of black-n-white stripe, a matching blazer, and a shirt which is pretty much just white mesh netting. Who wants to see her bra? Unfortunately nobody has a choice. Real subtle, Frank. Also: who wears sunglasses inside? This girl -- they totally shield her eyes, as she adjusts her bag on the crook over arm, and just gliiiides on over to the counter, smelling like Chanel, cigarettes, and cheap scotch. And she must be drunk, because when she stops at the counter, looks around, spots Mina and Dross and Candice and others? Franky just sort of... Sways a bit, whispering something to herself. But the cat came back...the very next day. The cat came back -- they thought he was a goner! In truth, Tom O'Leary's been rarely seen in some weeks, long enough to maybe make a few souls wonder if he'd lost one of his nine lives. Well, wonder no more, for through the door, in comes trouble himself wearing hangover glasses and a toothy smile, and an aura of drugs and liquor that says that at least part of his absence is almost certainly 'extended bender'. Over one shoulder, his guitar case, which looks as worse-for-wear as he does, like somebody dropped it off the back of a truck or something. Though he sniffs at the pastry case for a moment, his main goal seems to be the performance signup sheet, though he looks ready to react at the slightest noise. Or sign of bugs. Or ear scritches. Or rivals. Cat on the edge. Arriving a little late and looking frazzled is Ziv, who has certainly been around and about Cat-22 a few times but hardly a truly familiar face to all but the scantest few of those already present. The small, spiky-haired girl has a bicycle helmet hanging from one of her hands and more than a slightly breathless air about her. Still, she looks relatively nice, in a more or less cheap fashion - a flouncy, black and floral lace sundress with a pair of open-toed gladiator sandals and her usual array of jangly bangles. Under one arm is a flowy-sleeved trenchcoat jacket, in a darker grey. Nothing but dark colors here, apparently. Juggling the things in her arms, her dark eyes quickly scan the room and she seems to single out C.B. - either word of mouth or word of event homes her in on him. He's given a quick, furtive flash of a smile and she waves a hand in his direction before going to dump her belongings in an empty chair nearby to Haruki. Welp, C.B. is still waiting up there for names. He says into the mic again, "We're gonna start this party shortly, people." Eyes are immediately distracted by Franklyn as the palazzo'd princess enters. Should she look his way, she'll get a wry sort of smile from him. But he's not making an effort to get down or talk to anyone, because he's got a job to do! A very important job. Or something. He waves back at Ziv, but doesn't really smile. Those smiles are in short supply on the face of Mister Alexander, lately. From upstairs, crawling down one of the cat tubes, a cat emerges onto the tower in the center of the room. Mortal eyes will see just a normal gray and white fluffy Cymric cat, similar to the paintings all around the room. To Lost eyes, however, the cat has gray and white fluffy paper rather than fur. He makes a circle before settling around into full-on cat loaf mode. And he spends some time staring at Tom, because. Cats. Watching him, watching her. That is Mina, for a moment, as she looks to the stage and the C.B. upon it. When he gives that small smile? She lifts her mug to him in a quiet, across-the-way greeting. When the Tomcat comes by the pastry case, she doesn't move. At all. Like someone is used to dealing with those on edge. Not even a sound. But man, those pastries do look good. When Yossarian appears, she finally finds a smile, aimed towards the feline. Then, it's back to business. And then, who should step into the Collective but the man himself, Count! *Wooo yeah! Crowd cheering* That's right ladies and gents and those marked as 'other', The Horned Beast of Winter has emerged from his Laundromat Lair to stare blinking and confused into the sunlight; Or at least the lights of Cat-22. The goth is in full form tonight, heavy boots marking his entrance into the room, and moving up from there are the worn black jeans, fashionably torn up the left leg, the worn black teeshirt that has a few holes in it that reads Sex Drugs and Unicorns around and upside down cross. Over that he's got on his black leather jacket, worn without decoration save for a path on the shoulder that looks like some family crest or other. his eyeliner is smeared and perf, and he's tossing a cigarette out behind him as he makes his way through the door. There are a couple moments while he stands there, letting his eyes take in the room, and suddenly, something catches his attention, and he frowns heavily. "Oh god damnit CB!" his voice loud, carrying "You didn't fucking tell me you ran a fucking Salad joint!" The Knight of the Tongue, apparently does not approve. his attention however is caught by someone sitting at a table by herself, and soon the beast is stalking over towards Candice, "Hey Candy, what're you doin' here?" he asks as he pulls up a chair, settling in beside the girl. Frank's presence is not missed either, and Count flashes her a smile, tilting his head as if suggesting that she should join, and, for those that notice such things, he tosses her a wink as well. Noel's nose twitches; it's a frantic, brief thing but she can't help it as she lays eyes on some of the more predatory types. The delicate, mouse-like girl's shoulders relax and she breathes out a little puff of breath. Cats. There are so many cats, aren't there? She hunkers down a little at her place a ways away from the stage. What did she expect? Noel mentally kicks herself in the ass like 4 times. Idiot. Haruki smiles at Ziv as she sits near him, warm and friendly. "Are you going to sing?" he asks hopefully. "Or perform?" There, much better to have something else to focus on than... well it's just better. He takes a sip from his glass. And there's Yossarian who he also smiles oh so bright to see. And then someone... someone's disparaging his favourite cafe and he narrows his eyes at Count. "He doesn't run it, it's run by a collective. And it's not all salad, vegetarian and vegan food can be extremely varied and delicious." Because never mind that the comment wasn't said to him, he's still going to... well. Tristan acquires a drink for both himself and Dross and then locates the seat that the man has chosen. He first stops to add his name to the list of those who might perform for the open mic night and then makes his way back toward the rear of the room, offering one to Dross before he takes the other beverage for himself, settling into a chair next to the man after unbuttoning his jacket and adjusting his cuffs. There's a dip of his head to CB if the man happens to notice him, and Mina, as well, but beyond that he remains quiet, taking in those who enter with some interest. Candice waves towards Haruki and Ziv, when she spots them, cheerful and somewhat...exuberantly. In case they can miss the much-to-pale slender figure. She knows those faces! But then there's a Count! And he gets all of her attention. Smiling brightly, she moves to the chair closer to him, taking a sip from the pitcher via the straw, and chatting cheerfully, "Oh! I came to see! CB's my friend now, and besides, it's always nice to see what talented people live somewhere, don't you think? Surely it'll be a marvelous event! I've never been to an open mic night before, but I've seen them on movies, something exciting always happens." That flash of anxiety draws a quick glance from Dross. He regards Noel thoughtfully, but for now, keeps whatever those thoughts are to himself. He looks away to accept that drink, which looks like nothing more than black coffee, then returns his focus to the stage. Ziv chooses not to get into whatever possible spat might be happening between Count and Haruki at the moment. She does answer the latter of the two with a nod, and a quick explanation of, "I'm going to sing, yeah. Um... perform I don't know. I'm going to start off with a song that I'll use a little more... distance for the performance." She gives a somewhat self-deprecating grin, then turns towards C.B. on stage, foisting a hand into the air. "Make sure you write my name down!" she chirps. Mm, yes, C.B. definitely notices Count's entrance. And he does not look terribly pleased to see him. That must be because he heckled Cat-22, right? Right. Anyway, Haruki -- of all people -- provides an adequate enough explanation as to what Cat-22 is really about, so for once, C.B. does not follow-up Count's hecklings with any of his own. Though he does appear to be watching the guy closely. He's still standing up at the stage, glasses on, with his little clipboard. A tiny salute is given to Ziv. "You got it." Scribble, scribble. He writes her down "Alright, people, let's get the ball rolling here." C.B. stares down at the clipboard. "Tom, you're up first, if you want it." He grabs his lager and hops down from the stage, but stays close. Mina works behind the bar, and when she notices Tristan, she gives him one of those quick flashes of smile. It has her following him with her eyes, and when she spies Dross as well, there's a dip of her head his way. Then her gaze is back to wandering, as she sips from her bourbon with a splash of coffee. Count's entrance, and the words that come with it, have her looking towards said horned Winter. There's a brief frown from the succubus, but she doesn't say anything. Nope. Time for more drinking. Tom looks down his nose and over the hangover glasses at frozen Mina, and the toothy grin spreads. "You're good, baby, it's good. I'm behaving myself tonight." This lie is so brazen it practically has a life of its own. His voice is languid and yowly, suggesting a relaxation that his posture says he doesn't truly feel. Still, there's no real direction of threat there. He stalks over to go stare at the paper-cat first for a few seconds, however; that could be a fight in the making, or maybe he's just making catnip-friends. And there he sits, staring at the other cat, for just a little too long when his name gets called. He leap-fumbles to his feet and doesn't drop the guitar case, but does hit a lady patron in the knees, earning a glare as he makes his way to the stage, chaos in his wake. "My name is Tommy O'Leary and MY BAND BROKE UP so you just get me tonight," he growls into the mic as he works at getting his guitar out. For whatever reason, Franklyn decides against a drink at the bar -- instead, the Mortal girl flashes a smile at all who see her, then turns and hightails it towards Count and Candice and-- is that Haruki and Ziv? They all get... Some kind of a look, and a wave of acknowledgement; "Darlings, ohmy/gawww/, just =look at you all=." Laughter, it is loud -- accompanied by a big, wide grin as she trounces up to Count, leans in close to kiss the air on both sides of his cheeks, and possibly murmurs something to him while squeeeeezing that black leather jacket. Done? Done. Franklyn turns and looks back out at the busy Collective, then ohs - nodding in agreement as she hears Ziv, and then spots C.B. over by the stage. Hand is held high, and she waves, then points at herself while mouthing 'sign me up', then promptly ignores the man, in favour to Count, Candice, Ziv and Haruki. What a troupe. "Amazing! You're /all/ performing, yes?" Director voice in full swing: her hands clap together, and her eyebrows raise above her glasses, "Who can get me a drink?" Then... Then Tom get's on stage, and Franky just turns and... Stares. Finally Ziv turns and plants her scrawny rear end into a chair nearby to Haruki... and then grimaces at the sudden motion. Rising up, she instead perches on the chair, tucking her feet back and underneath of her. Those with beyond mortal eyes can likely tell it's due to her Beast anatomy - sitting on your tail suddenly isn't very fun, after all. Then her ears perk, figuratively and literally, at Franklyn's greeting to her. "Helllooo Franklyn," she draws out in greeting to the other girl, nodding her head once and perhaps eyeing her a little thoughtfully, readjusting her posture again. There's a faint grin that dawns on her lips as she notes the kisses to Count, stating, "I'm going to perform. I'm a little rusty, and I kind of threw this together last minute, so uh. I don't know how good it will be." Candice looks...a bit apprehensive as the excitable Franklyn approaches, and if she leans a bit to put Count more securely between her and Franklyn, well, maybe Candice is shy. Sure, she's shy. Still, she DOES smile towards Franklyn, albeit nervously, and offers a "Hello, Frankie." And then she's being asked about her performing and her eyes widen as she shakes her head, "Oh no way. I couldn't possibly. I have nothing to perform and I suspect I'd get nervous." But then someone is finally getting on stage, and she applauds Tom, smiling encouragingly-- not that he seems to need much encouragement. And Ziv turns to look at Tom, after his comment about his band breaking up, a mixture of bemused, amused, and intrigued. Haruki looks over at Noel, oh so sympathetically, and he tries to offer an encouraging smile. Being out of the way actually seems like maybe a good idea. He waves back at Candice. He nods at Ziv but she's off signing up and his own attention is scattered a dozen ways across the room, bouncing from place to place as he tries to take it all in. Which he probably shouldn't. And there's someone going up on stage and it's Tom who he knows and there's so much happening! Everywhere! And so many people he knows! And he can't possibly greet them all. And Tom's performing. Pay attention to the stage. Wait no. Ziv. He smiles at Ziv. "You'll be amazing I'm sure," he says trying to be encouraging. "The rust will all come off." Arriving a bit later than her usually prompt self would, Green is at last here! And she arrives with a bit of a hustle in her step, at least until she's inside. Then it's back to looking perfectly poised and totally in command. The little Brit is dressed tonight a bit more casually - a grey tee, a dark purple and pink patterned circle skirt, a burgundy jacket. She's in tights, of course, which are bluish and semi-sheer, then it's smart little oxfords. Perhaps more noticeable than Green's cute get up is that she has a (new) DSLR camera hanging around her neck. It would seem she's ready to take pictures! The small woman gives a quick look around. So many faces! And while there are many friends here, it's probably pretty obvious that Green is searching for someone. Franklyn. Soon as she pots Franklyn, she lets that gaze linger long enough for Franky to notice her, and then she promptly raises her camera and snaps a picture. Oh, God, the flash is on! Franklyn spotted, picture taken, Green pivots and turns for the bar. Or, well, for Mina. "Good evening, love..." Sliding in the door, Teagan tucks their vape into the pocket of a ratty leather jacket, scowling their way toward the bar wordlessly. Summer and anger -- same thing -- roil off of them, and -- to those able to see miens -- their face slides and shifts, features indistinct, as they wend their way toward a drink. You don't have to have been here before to locate 'where to get a drink' very quickly. C.B. is perched on a stool off to the side of the stage, dressed in his usual attire of work shirt (red and yellow plaid, today) and Levis. At least he's out of the paramilitary gear. For the moment. Glasses on, he's drinking a can of 'Gansett, arms folded as the open mic clipboard dangles from one hand. He rocks back and forth on the stool, scowling vaguely as he stares around at all assembled. Though he's at least trying to listen to Tom on the stage, when he's not busy scowling or drinking. Yossarian, the cat sitting on the tower, is watching Tom very closely. With all the full force his yellow eyes can muster. This better be good, Other-Cat. Good thing he hasn't noticed Noel the poor mouse yet? Or maybe it wouldn't matter. Mina snorts, delicately, at the words from Tom. There's a shake of head, and another brief frown - though it doesn't seem to be aimed towards him. It's a frown that lingers for a few moments, right up until she's got a Green heading towards her. Then, her face lights up with the smile there, found once more. "Green, darling. What can I get for you?" Warmth, there. And, just like that, Mina finds her grove and smoothness once more. Putting her mug down, and turning that smile towards Teagan. "And you, too. Welcome to Cat-22." Her voice is soft, but there's still that extra something to those honeyed tones that make them oh, oh so drawing. "This is a song -- an old, old song about Black Jack Davy -- a cautionary tale about what happens when your lady gets stolen by a roguish fuuu---fellow," Tom explains as he settles into his grip on his guitar and -- is that a hands-free harmonica rig? You bet. "It's one of those universal possibilities for some people. Listen good. Ready?" Stomp, stomp, three, four, one heavy foot, and Tom sets into the old folk song, hollering about how Black Jack Davy makes the woods ring and how he charms the heart of the lady. It's a very one-man band performance, boots as thumping percussion and the harmonica as charming interludes between his blues-holler singing. The way Tom performs, it's the kind of headlong performance that suggests he's not even thinking of how the audience sees him. He's singing the song for his own delight, as if to make his own wild woods ring like the man he sings about. It's raw, but enjoyable despite not being so classically pretty a performance. "Oh darling, everyone's rusty until they lubricate the pipes -- you need a drink, yes?" Franklyn chimes at Ziv, then laughs and turns to give Candice a big ol' smile -- looking at her over the tops of her sunglasses. Again: inside, at night, really? Yes. "It's like, totally wonderful to hear your voice, though? I'm =so pleased= to see you, I--..." Is that Green? Franklyn caches glimpse of the lil' Brit and her DSLR, and almost reflexively the Mortal woman is moving: angling her shoulders and tilting her head and raising a hand to wave, before she goes through a series of motions that... Oh, god, she's posing for the camera, and... Yeah. So. Franky's full on #carefreewhitegirl tonight. Damn. "--was worried you'd like, /tooootally/ hate me." Franklyn finishes speaking to Candice, looking back at her a moment later. "Ohmygawd, you are just like, so fucking precious, do you know that?" Franky is reaching for one of Candice's hand - oh yes - chattering on, "I need to take you to the East Bank meadows, the shadow of Mischief is so picturesque this time of year, you'll /adore/ it." Franky! People are performing, be /respectful/. Slouching forward toward the bar, Teagan rests their forearms on it, tipping their chin up at Mina. Silvery-mirrored eyes slide over the bartender absently, and they ask: "Beer. Whatever's cheap." There's a lumpy, battered black backpack hanging on their back, and they make no move to take it off, just... leaning. Then Tom starts performing, and the Mirrorskin turns their attention to the stage, expression entirely inscrutable. Friends, Count is good at making them, as one can see by the various frowns and arguments slung his way after his opening barrage into sociability. Haruki's argument? It's not ignored per se, but definitely like talking to a wall, there's a sneer of snobbish disgust, like someone was tying to tell him that 'No really, you should try three penis wine, it's delicious.' Go to hell Taco. Settled in beside Candice, he puts an arm around the delicate woman’s shoulders and pulls her in to give her a peck on the top of her head, and then turn to greet Franky, coming in with those double air kisses. "Frankalicious, I didn't know you were gonna be here!" All smiles for the girl, as she bombards his group with her words and all the charm that Count seems to lack. Spotting Green in the distance, Count lifts a hand towards her, offering the woman a wave, before his eyes move towards the stage. Oh look, a performer! Ziv is still partially paying attention to Haruki and Franklyn nearby to her, though it seems she's somewhat lost in the sea of people - and there's someone on stage! And they're singing! And doing some kind of one man band act! Her jaw is slightly slack when she manages to answer Franklyn, with a little turn of her head to the side, "Oh, yeah, a drink would be lovely." She agrees. And then it seems that Franklyn is hamming it up for the camera, and spotting the woman behind it she lifts a hand to wave in greeting to Green with a bright wave. "We'll see," she says then to Haruki, perhaps seeming to remember, slipping out her tongue to wet her lips after. Her eyes track over towards where Mina is, perhaps considering ordering a drink - liquid courage and all. But then her attention is back on Tom, and she's sway-bobbing her head lightly side to side. Apparently she appreciates the music just fine, no matter how rustic and raw it is. And C.B.? As cynical and misanthropic as the guy can be, he seems to be digging on Tom's one-band man performance. He's bopping his head a bit, one construction-booted foot tapping along to a song he actually knows quite well. Maybe if he were in a better mood, he'd be hooting and hollering along as well? Or at least a drunker mood. Give him time, he's working on it. The crowd of Count, Franklyn, Candice, Green et al, not far from him, gets a long glower that could really mean anything. I mean, C.B. kind of has Resting Asshole Face, so maybe it's just that? Must be. As for Yossarian the cat, he continues to watch Tom's performance with all of the full attention of a cat who has decided to put all of his full attention on something else. In this case, another cat. Soon as Green is at the bar, she stops and turns back to the stage. She hits a few buttons on the camera, and then raises it, and snaps a picture of Tom. No flash this time! The stage lights should pick it up just fine. One picture, two, ten, who knows. All the while, she's smirking, ever so faintly. Picture taken (and job done), Green turns back to Mina. "I would like..." And then Green steps onto the rail at the bar, and leans forward, elbows onto the bar. It's quite absurd (and anyone watching is going to see how high that little skirt can climb up the back of thighs) but it's all done to close the distance between Green and Mina. She whispers to the other woman, then draws back. "Oh... and a beer," she says, at normal volume. Green then looks aside, at Teagan. "Hello," she says, with a sweet smile. Soon as that's done, Green stays standing on the bar rail, but looks back. Back towards Frank, and also to the others. Count, Ziv, Haruki, Candice... Green gives a smile and a wave. And then, it's like Tom forgets what song he's performing and which instrument is his focus; he shifts straight up to the harmonica, which he blows on like...well, like he's trying to achieve heavy metal on a mouth organ. Forceful, down-and-dirty, and in its way, totally ridiculous, and he punctuates it with a lyric of: "Don't let your right hand know! What your left hand do! Don't let your right hand know! WHAT YOUR LEFT HAND DO!" And then, having just about run out of breath and segued into that screaming for several weird choruses, he abruptly bows. "Tommy O'Leary. Peace out." And he walks off the stage, leaving his empty case on the ground and in the way, as if he's forgotten it or is just leaving it there as casual bother to whomever else comes along. Who knows? Still he looks around, and has one more question once off the stage. "Hey -- is there BEER?" Haruki's focused on the stage. It's easiest that way. Yes focus on the performance and it's amazing, and Haruki's smiling and he'll cheer for the man because that's what you do. Noel likes Tom's performance; it seems very raw and is very pleasing to her as well. She has her elbows on the table and her chin in her palms, her curly head is bopping from left to right. She's in her own little world; perhaps a little stoned and lost in her own head. She is also warm, and cheerful seeming -- tapping her own sandal-wrapped foot along to the beat which ceases as Tom's music stops. She claps in earnest for him and lets that peter off after a moment. "Oh! Of course I don't -hate- you. You were intoxicated. People make terrible decisions when intoxicated." Candice tells Franklyn, smiling from the safety of her position tucked under Count's arm. She colors, faintly, when Franklyn calls her precious and takes her hand - to the Lost, the blush is a series of red splotch-speckles, larger than freckles. "I--" A flash blinds her, making her blink repeatedly, and slightly dazed, Candice just turns to look back to the stage, "Oh, he's quite good, isn't he?" Her attention turns fully to the stage, and she focuses on that, because the poor flower girl is vaguely overwhelmed all at once, and when Tom finishes up, Candice applauds, cheerfully and exuberantly, before discreetly shaking out her hands and tells the others around her, "He was very good! It was quite passionate." C.B., fountain pen between his teeth, gives Tom an adequate round of applause. "Beer is right over there, pal." He points over at the bar part of the cafe. Then he seems to remember that it's his cue again, and, after draining his can of lager, he makes his way back up onto the stage again, speaking into the mic. "Okay, people. Let's give it up for Tommy O'Leary, singing an old favorite that I know I'm very fond of." Applause, applause. "We need more harmonicas in this joint. Anyway, next up is -- " He squints through his glasses at the sheet. "Tristan Darrow. Hey, Tristan, come on down, the stage's all yours." "Babes, you don't follow my insta? Of /course/ I'd be here -- I'm a patron of the arts." Franklyn chimes back to Count; although her smile falters, as she winces and raises a hand - fingers pressing into the side of her temples, as if she's got a sudden headache or pain or divine vision of apocalyptic mayhem. "Besides; if it gets good, bad, ugly? I win in every scenario - the cards are stacked in my favour. How could I miss that?" More laughter, and Franklyn is rubbing at the side of her head, hair messed up as she turns and looks around the Collective -- spotting Green and Mina, eyeing glowering C.B., then finally turning to watch Tom's performance and... Oh, she's grinning, bopping along to the beat. Yes. This song. How delightful. Applause, oh, it's given in the form of a whistle. Then? Oh... My. The smile Franklyn gives Candice is... Pained? Manic? Extreme? "/Too precious/. Riiiight. Perfect, let me test your hypothesis and sort you guys out..." Franky is nodding to Ziv's request belatedly, releasing Candice's delicate hand, then gliding away -- off towards Green and Mina at the counter. "Hell-lloooo darlings!" "Hey." Green -- to whom Teagan responds -- won't get the roiling heat and the distant sound of radio static and gunfire. Just a ratty, exhausted-looking person leaning on the bar, returning that sweet greeting with a nominally-less-pissy-than-three-seconds-ago expression. Teagan will have a beer in their hand in a moment and that might decrankify them a bit more. Teagan sniffs slightly, hand sliding into their jacket pocket, but the instinctive move toward their vape is arrested, out of apparent respect or some other shit like that. The end of Tom's performance makes the corner of their mouth cock up, and the Summer briefly throws up the horns, then turns back to the bar. "...That was really different," comments Ziv, probably a little loudly considering the situation at hand. Or maybe it's the fact that, if anyone is close or perceptive enough to see, she's wearing a small pair of earplugs. They don't seem to be wholly deafening, but she is still wearing them. Her hands come up and she applauds as Tom goes to leave the stage (and his case), pursing her lips around her upper front teeth in order to give off a high-pitched whistle in appreciation. A look is given after Franklyn, partially looking like she was about to bound off the chair; but instead she looks back to the stage and sets her bottom on the top-back of the chair, flouncy skirt draping over the top of it. There's a quick nod from Mina, and two shakes of a lamb's tail later, there's a bottle of beer in front of Teagan - some local brew, because that's how things are done. At least when she's behind the bar and there's no specifics from the person doing the ordering. Then, then there's a Green leaning over, and whatever is whispered into her ear makes the Fairest laugh, a low sound, like one of the classic femme fatales. She reaches out, and without further prelude or thought, brings fingers to the back of Green's neck, and draws her back in close. Leaning across the bar, there's a collision of lips, in a kiss that's just this side of fit for public consumption. It lingers for a few moments, before she pulls back, lets the other woman go, and takes a few steps back in favor of applauding Tom's ending, C.B.'s announcing, and Tristan's upcoming. But her eyes are all locked on Green. Tristan applauds Tom's performance when it concludes, and then he turns over toward Dross once more and tips his cup in the other man's direction where they sit, giving him a curious smile. But then there's his name being called out by CB, and he sets his mug down to move up toward the stage. There's a dip of his head for CB, a slight straightening of his jacket and cuffs. "I was asked to read something that I'd written recently." He pauses for a moment, and then recites in a clear even voice: The light of stars that have died
Finds your eyes too late
Questing fingers never touch
That which lies beyond reach
Just a memory of lives long gone
Like faded headstones in the grass
Dates worn away
By tears and rain
Until the earth gives way
To take them into her embrace
We walk beneath the light
Of those long dead stars
Above the corpses of those long dead souls
Taking hold of now
While we hang between
On a piano wire of spider's silk
One long note
A single breath
The meeting of eyes
A promise of a kiss that never comes
Before we are star dust and earth once more
It's difficult to tell exactly where he's looking as he reads, the solid glossy black of his eyes looking out from the stage, but once the recitation is complete, he gives a small smile and a nod of his head to those gathered, before withdrawing once more with a quiet "Thank you." Tom waves at his adoring public, including Yossarian the cat, which is just odd of him; the wave becomes an answering fist-pump and throwing-horns-back at Teagan as he makes his meandering way to the Promised Beer. Once such beverage is retrieved from the bar, his head swivels as he appears to either be looking for his poor abandoned guitar case, or for the proper target for his attentions other than the stage and the rest of the performances. It must be said, however, that having performed, he seems much, much mellower, as if all that blues-stomp had a nicely cathartic effect. It might say something that his response to Tristan's followup act is to set down the beer, raise both hands, and snap fingers enthusiastically. Which is harder than one might think for a fuzzy fellow as himself. Lot of coordination involved. C.B., from his vantage point up on the stage, does a quick scan of the place as he waits for Tristan to come up to the mic. Lucky for him, he's looking right in the direction of the bar when Mina reaches over to kiss Green. For a moment, his eyes widen and he blinks, just once. Those with fae sight can probably notice the little crackle of electricity that twitches around his fingers... And then it's gone, along with his gaze. Nope. He's working. Not looking over there. Waiting for Tristan. Oh, there's Tristan. Great, C.B. can hop down again. And he does so, making a beeline for the bar -- while completely avoiding Mina. He pulls out a bottle of Wild Turkey that he must have been keeping aside, filling a tumbler all the way up with it. Stands there and drinks it as he listens to Tristan's poem. His eyes go a little distant as he claps, that pen between his teeth again, and then he's bounding his way back towards the stage. Yes, he took the bottle and the glass with him, depositing them at his stool. Up on the stage again, C.B. says into the mic, "Let's give it up for Tristan. Good work, man, I mean that." He nods in Tristan's direction, clapping his way. "Alright, Haruki." He stares right at the magician. "I'm guessing from your outfit that you're here to perform. Do you feel up to it?" Putting him on the spot? A bit. Candice looks a mite relieved when Franklyn leaves, and things-- and perhaps she still looks a bit bemused, but chooses to instead rip off pieces of pastry and eat instead of think, offering some of the vegan savory tarts towards Count. A new performer takes the stage, and she watches with interest. Tristan's poem, such a marked contrast to Tom's song, has her eyes growing faintly misty, and she listens, and she applauds when he's done, blinking a bit and grinning-- but then she spots Tom out of the corner of her eye snapping, and curious, looks down at her hands and snaps a few times. Only one out of every three attempts actually leads to a snap, but she tries, bless her. She tries! Green might not quite be ready for that one. She looks back to Mina, soon as the other woman grabs onto her, and then comes that kiss. Green grips the side of the bar tightly with on hand, so she doesn't collapse right there in the middle of Cat-22. That'd be embarrassing! And that kiss is certainly one to make her week in the knees. It is returned, of course, after the briefest hesitation. Soon as Mina pulls back, Green gasps a breath, and is left staring, wide-eyed, at the Ginger working the bar. And hey, Teagan's right there! So they get a front row seat to that action. "Oh, my..." Green finally says, to Mina, as a grin curls across her lips. She reaches up her free hand to delicately and playfully wipe at the corner of her mouth, on either side, and then finally Green breaks eye contact. Green looks aside, just in time to see Franklyn approaches. She reaches out a hand to the other woman. "Franklyn, love..." she says, her smile so sweet and adoring. "You look incredible, as ever. Are you going to perform...?" If Franklyn gets close enough, Green is going to snake an arm about her waist. What's in Franklyn's hand, like she's got a quick draw specialty? It's a golden iPhone -- raised to try and take a snap of Green and Mina as they share a smooch. Look at her, she's even bobbing too-and-fro to try and get the best angle and cast of shadow under those quirky Collective lighting conditions. Snap! Guess what lives on the cloud now? This PG13 Kodak Moment Franky siiiighs, pressing a hand to her chest as she looks from Green to Mina and back again. "That was like, so..." Whatever it is, Franklyn doesn't finish the sentence, just fans at herself and presses a hand to her chest, like she was simply overwrought with emotion. "The world is like... So fucking beautiful? Like? It's like? You =know=?" Was that a sniffle? Franky is taking in a deep breath, turning to look at Mina with big soulful green eyes, and chattering on; "If you get me around of vodka tonic? I'll like, even tip you extra for your trouble. You've for reeeeal brightened my day." A beat -- then Franky turns to look over at Candice, Ziv, Count and Haruki -- then back to Mina, as Franky slinks towards Green and kisses the air near her cheek, still watching the Succuflower behind the bar as her arm drapes around Green's shoulder. "...Six, please." Ziv is quiet through the poem where she sits, perched on the chair at Haruki's table, watching Tristan first perform and then leave the stage. Those who are capable of doing so might see her flick an ear, dark-eyes simply watching ponderously. And then she blinks several times, as if to clear her head, and her hands (wings) come up to offer a round of applause for the poet that just shared his work. When Haruki's name is called she points a toothy grin that way, and winks at him with a quip of, "Best of luck!" She seems relatively oblivious to what's going on up at the bar... and perhaps whatever plots Franklyn has for drinks. Oh dear. "I mean I followed, but there weren't enough nudie pics so I got bored." Count replies to Franklyn with that sharp bastards smile of his, golden eyes gleaming with mirth. "You remind me of an old friend Frankenbooty, no matter what happened, she claimed victory. Pain in my ass, just like you." And when Frank gets up to leave, the beast reaches out to backhand her on the hips, which is just one measure short of smacking her on the ass, but Count, being slightly smarter than dirt, wishes not to be kicked in the balls this early in the evening. Left alone with Candice, he turns to his Motleymate, and asks "So, Friends with CB? Good fer you." there's a thoughtful pause before he adds "I mean he's not all bad, and some of my best buds seem to like him so. I mean... even if he is the filthy vegetarian." No, he's not letting that go. As Tom leaves the stage and another comes on, this time to so some spoken word, Count watches with a detached sort of interest, that smile of his resting in place, but his attention never lingers, it's always moving, drifting from here to there. Having completed his reading, Tristan returns to sit next to Dross once more, and takes up his mug of coffee, turning his attention toward Haruki to watch and see what the next performance might have in store. He settles back on the purple loveseat and studies the magician with some interest, having heard of him but never having seen him perform in person. The kiss ends soon enough for Mina to catch Tristan's words, and somewhere in there, the eye contact with Green is broken. The succuflower lets out a breath of her own, and looks towards the stage. There's work to be done, and that alone seems to keep her busy hands from applause or finger snapping. A glance to C.B. as he makes his way back towards the stage. There's a faint blush on her cheeks, and a look towards Franklin before she nods. "Sure thing," she murmurs, and sets up those six drinks. Just a touch heavy on the vodka, because it's surely that kind of night. "Good Luck Haruki!" Candice calls out, cupping her hands around her mouth to better call out. She doesn't /quite/ scream it out, but her voice is naturally a bit on the softer, mellow side, so she probably should have. Still, hopefully the message reaches over, and Candice waves as Haruki heads towards the stage, before looking back to Count, "There's nothing wrong with being a vegetarian. That just means there's more protein for the rest of us." Candice points out, happily omnivorous. The Green-Mina-Franklyn show does catch her attention, just a touch, before she looks back towards the stage. Yet more interesting things happen on Open Mic Night! Noel'd watched Tristan curiously, listening to his reading and clapping heartily after. Then, the little mouse rises to her feet and gives a quiet stretch before heading off toward the door, ears pricking this way and that. Green leans in further, as Franky goes for her cheek. She angles for the other woman's ear, and murmurs out a few words. She lingers a moment there, then draws back, to look upon Franklyn's face. "As if everything you do isn't a performance," she says, with that same sweet smile. Green then leans in again, but this time it's not to whisper. No, Amanda Green presses a kiss to Franklyn's lips. A kiss that's far tamer than the one she just shared with Mina, but still rather overt. Another kiss had (is Green going to kiss everyone tonight?), the little Brit gives a look to the drinks Mina is making, then back to Frank. "Is one for me?" she asks. Tom casts a grin at Candice and her finger-snapping, and in his seat, he oozes into a manspreader's slouch after he sets the guitar on the chair beside him. He does, however, keep wearing the harmonica holder, which he only semi-successfully navigates around the beer that's back in his hand. One fist pumps for Haruki as next performer, though when he spots Noel heading for the door -- well. Distraction achieved. It's like the instinct kicks in and it's all he can do to keep from chasing the mousie, tail all atwitch and attention completely distracted from the performances. Dross watches the others move around the Collective, talking, drinking, and greeting each other. From time to time, his eyes move toward the stage--is that pen getting ink on C.B.'s teeth? Hmmm. He takes in the first performance with interest, and the harmonica, in particular. Each camera flash also catches a flicker of attention from him: phthalo blue eyes pulled as if by a magnet toward that sudden light. He listens to the second performance intently, too, head tilted slightly to one side. He has his hands cupped close around a red mug of coffee, still with white steam floating up. Hard to read his expression during the recital, but when Tristan returns from the stage to sit next to him again, Dross touches his shoulder in acknowledgment and leans over to whisper something to the poet. Tom throwing up the horns at them in response actually makes Teagan briefly grin, a sharp, predatory expression that fades as quickly as it appears, hidden behind the neck of their beer bottle. That expression returns in the form of raised eyebrows when they get a ringside seat to an almost-totally-inappropriate-for-school kiss between a Succubus and a Green. Their head shakes in vague amusement, and Teagan's shifting face is turned back toward the official entertainment. "Well, ain't that a thing." Haruki's eyes go wide, fearful, as he's called up and yes he's here to perform. That was the plan. But all thoughts of what to perform have fled his mind as he walks up to the stage and... oh is that a deck of cards in his pocket. Yeah he can use that. He shuffles the cards and performs some sleight of hand with them, pulling out the face cards, only to make them disappear into the deck, and then reappear again on top. Cards disappear and then reappear in his hand, the interplay of reds and blacks, hearts and diamonds. He's good at what he does even if it perhaps lacks any real flair or pizzazz or ingenuity or audience interaction. Once Haruki's warmed up with the cards he pulls out a twenty dollar bill from his wallet and shows it to the crowds. Just a normal bill. Right. He folds it quickly, origami style until it takes the shape of a miner, watch the mine work for a moment, moving his pick and then there's a flash of fire, the labourer's gone and there's a coin in Haruki's hands dancing over his knuckles. And then a second appears, a third, a fourth, pulled out of thin air, spinning, bouncing from hand to hand, appearing and disappearing, it's all very fluid and fast. He smacks his hands together, and the coins are gone and in his hands this time is not the miner, but instead a businessman in a top hat, folded from a bill. Haruki seemingly rips the bill up, throws it up into the air, and rainbow glitter confetti sprinkles down as he steps off the stage. Done. C.B. gives Haruki a little pat on the shoulder before hopping down again. Does he hear Count talking shit about him? Maybe, maybe not. Does he care? Probably...but apparently, he's not engaging. Not now. Not yet. Nope. All he does is settle down into his chair near the stage again with his clipboard and his tumbler of bourbon. Grumpy, drunk, and alone. Yep! Funtimes. Then, poor Haruki is performing. C.B. watches, of course, and gives him a good amount of applause when he's done, too. Although it's not any more or less than anyone else, because, ya know. We're all equals at the Collective. C.B. hops back up on the stage, "Haruki, that was -- well, shit, if you get any glitter on me, I'm not gonna be happy, but otherwise, good job." Clap, clap, clap. "So, I just wanted to take a moment to mention this great little play called 'No Exit'. Anyone ever heard of it? Show of hands." He looks around to see if there are any hands -- there might be. "Great. Great. I advise everyone in here to go home and read it. It's by Jean-Paul Sartre and it's very illuminating. Anyway...next up, we got Ziv. Ziv, come on up." He hops down again so Ziv can come up and do her thang. Look! It's one of CB's favourite people! At least, it's his fellow manipulator of the masses. Or is it? Clearly, this is simply another Totally Mortal Human Being. Yes. So normal. Much Humanity. She's soooo human, her 'human'ness makes any mortals in the vicinity uneasy...oooor that could be because their subconscious minds are wiser than their eyes, and recognise her for the alien, inhuman creature that she truly is, behind the veil of flesh. Ahem. November slinks into the party with customarily thoughtless grace, pin-straight, thigh-length hair as brilliantly streaked in fine, bold rainbow colours as ever. An attempt has been made to tame it, to knot it up into a bun at the nape of her neck, but from the number of strands already escaping, that probably won't last long. The too-pale young woman is a good 6'3" in kick-ass black boots, wearing a long-sleeved fuchsia, ruffly and belly-baring peasant blouse with galaxy leggings. The Totally Human Ancient tilts her head at Haruki's rainbow glitter confetti, unwitting herald of her arrival, and laughs quietly while moving farther into the room to survey the seating arrangements. "You're /too much/." Franklyn chimes at Mina, although she's focused on digging through her purse - where's her wallet, again? The Mortal girl leans against Green, head tilted so she can listen to the woman. What's this? Laughter -- loud and mirthful and totally fucking human as she nudges Green in the ribs with an elbow fondly, then leans in for that kiss. Jesus. It's /not even Spring/. "What, you gonna go up there in a second and complain to poor Haruki that it's all smoke and mirrors? Let there be some =magic=, yeah? Let me /live/." Franky quips at Green, then winks and turns away - so she can unceremoniously slide two $20s in Mina's direction. That covers drinks, right? One is already being lifted and handed to Green, then another. "Go and bring that to Ziv -- I'll take the rest." And lo, Franky does -- turning to watch the end of Haruki's show as she glides on. Only she stops, and she starts to laugh -- C.B. has spoken, and suggested No Exit. Apparently? This is =hilarious= to Franklyn. Glitter has a tendency to get everywhere. EVERYWHERE!!! It's on the stage. It's in the air. It is quite likely no stuck to CB's shoes at the very least. There's most certainly some in Haruki's hair sparkling away. It doesn't matter how much glitter you use, it still has a tendency to multiply and get everywhere. Haruki's hands are shaking when he steps off the stage and he goes to find a quiet spot, not where he was sitting earlier, to sit down and sip some water, just trying to catch a moment of calm. He's feeling a bit spacy. Ziv applauds as suitable for Haruki, though she might seem a little distracted by all the noise and different people coming in and about through Cat-22, tilting her head and occasionally flicking an ear that's only visible to Changeling and enchanted eyes. Then suddenly her name draws her back to the present, and she perks up before hopping off the stage and heading along towards that raised area of the room. A quick, sharp grin is flashed to the moody and gradually more intoxicated C.B. before she takes the stage. And, pausing for just a moment, she reaches out with a foot to kick the case Tom left up there earlier off of it. Thud. Thunk. Her stage now. There's a clear of her throat as she finds her way up to the mic, readjusting it a little more to her height and looking out at the crowd. "Good evening everyone. As the... gentleman said, my name is Ziv Allendale. I'm going to do a song for you, something a little slower for the evening." She pauses again, taking in a breath, before beginning to sing - acapella, apparently, and something that is slower and more haunting than most of the performances on stage tonight. Or maybe that's just her voice? It's difficult to determine the actual timbre, but it has a haunting, echo-y quality to it that's attention catching. "If we could be forever young, you said don't think just jump. If we had been the only ones, I'd have run with you until we found the sun. There you go, there you go again..." And she's relatively animated, doing a sort of slow rhythmic dance to a beat in her head and moving around the stage heedless of the glitter while occasionally making eye contact with different individuals in the crowd. Starting with C.B., then moving towards Haruki... Candice laughs at the performance Haruki puts on, having watched with interest and wide eyes throughout. At the end, she starts to applaud-- then reminds herself and tries to snap, and failing at that, simply goes back to applause. "That was wonderful, Haruki!" She calls out. Who knows if she can actually be heard over everything else going on. CB's recommendations? Earn her cell phone being pulled out while she jots down information, dutifully, like a proper millennial. While she does that, Ziv is up! Alas, Candice is too late to applaud her walk onto the stage, but she does look up, listening to the song and happily settling to eat more vegan tarts and drink more water. That full pitcher of water that was left with her? It's now two-thirds gone... and no one else has touched it but her. "Oh, hold that, love," Green says, to Frank. The drink, she means. Not the Franklyn attitude. Green never tries to dissuade that. Not in public. No, she means the drinks, and she says it because she has to get the camera up for Haruki. Snap, snap, snap! Green snags a few quality pictures, then lowers it. She leans over, kisses Frank's cheek, then snags up the two drinks. "Thanks, love," she says, to Franklyn. She doesn't turn off yet, though. Her eyes are back on Mina. She watches the other woman for a moment, and then turns eyes to the stage once more. Oh, Ziv's up already! Drinks are set down, again, and then up comes the camera. Snap, snap! And then while she's taking pictures? Green's camera swings over towards the entrance, just as November makes her way in. Snap, snap! Green flashes a smile. "It's just not civilized." Count mutters to Candice, making a mental note to bring his own animal flesh next time he comes here, which means tonight, Count is drinking on an empty stomach. Of course he hasn't even gotten up to get drinks yet, instead he's comfortable lounging as best he can beside Candice, putting one foot up on a chair opposite him and watching the crowd. He almost misses Novembers arrival, his eyes drifting past the masked fae, and then doing a double take, squinting at her and then flashing a smile. "Noooooveeey!" Count calls over the crowd, waving one arm and motioning to her that she should join him and his companion(s). "Just the Ice Queen I wanted to see!" Sorry performers, Count needs to grab the attention of people he knows. RUDE AF. He does however, manage to look a bit sheepish once he realized that Ziv's performance has started and clams up to watch. Mina applauds Haruki as he wraps up his act, flashing a bright smile to the magician. "Oh, I surely am," she responds to Franklyn with a brief, wry look on her face. But the two bills are taken, and slid away to where money goes to live behind the bar. With those six drinks turned out, she moves towards the backbar, and once more claims her own mug. Finishing of what's in it, before refreshing it, and getting back to work. A few more drinks made for others, and she glances over her shoulder to watch C.B. on stage for the span of a few heartbeats, more breaths. And then the woman that takes the stage after him, watching for a moment before she's sliding over towards Teagan to offer, "I'm Mina. Give a shout, or some vague hand gesture, if you need anything. Ceebee's handling the sign-ups, if you're interested in performing." Tom forgets to applaud Haruki -- it's not his fault, that dang distracting mouse girl was right there, man. He makes a face of cartoon-offense when Ziv kicks his guitar case off the stage, though, head swiveling and ears pricked. Hands spread, feigned injury, though it doesn't last long. It does interrupt what might have led him to go chase Noel, Tom-and-Jerry fashion. Yes, C.B. certainly notices November's arrival. Eyebrows raise as he glances towards the door, a slightly amused smirk coming to his face -- but it doesn't last. Not in the mood. Did he hear Franklyn laugh at his mention of No Exit? Oh, probably, because he glances towards her. Very briefly, expression enigmatic. Then he turns his attention up towards the stage, watching Ziv begin to perform. He squints, like he's trying to figure something out? Probably not even noticing that there is still some rainbow glitter stuck to his hair. Maybe he'll never notice and it will be there forever. Anyway. Back to the stage goes C.B., though he has a mite more trouble this go around, seeing as he's been putting away beer and bourbon for god knows how long now. "Well, that was certainly haunting," he says into the mic, then peers through his glasses at the clipboard. "Next up, we got our one and only Franklyn Garreau." Brows raise again as he peers over at her, glasses slipping down his nose, like a professor singling out a student. "Franky? Try not to burn the place down, 'kay?" He ambles back down again as soon as he can. Haruki's not doing eye-contact, no, he's draining some water from a glass and trying to keep his hands steady and just, in general being a bit out of it. The concept that Teagan might perform makes them snort, almost choking on their beer. "No thanks. My car broke down six blocks from here." It's possible that's true. It's also possible it's a Plausible Reason why they're there which has nothing to do with Lost or anything of the sort. They casually manage to continually keep their beer bottle in between their face and Green's camera. As if they're super practiced at that specific thing. "Teagan," they add to Mina after a moment. "Thanks. Another beer would be good, thanks. Just... continual beer. Beer, always." They get distracted by Ziv's performance. And beer. When he returns to his seat, Tristan leans in just a little to listen to the whisper in his ear from Dross, and murmurs something back. His eyes are on the stage, though, watching first Haruki's performance, a pause for applause for him, and then he listens to Ziv's song as well, head tilted just a little bit as she sings. Though his attention seems to be divided, between the song and Dross. Ziv finishes up the song, blowing a kiss to the crowd - and one to C.B. - before going to hop off the stage. She didn't particularly pose or anything for Green's flashing and clicking and whirring camera, but she does bat a wink in that direction as well. Then she's making her way back towards her seat near Haruki, shaking out a wing (which looks like her shaking a hand to those without the capability of seeing her mien) in perhaps a slightly nervous habit. "That wasn't so bad," she says, aside to Haruki, before turning her attention to C.B. "Do you need to have someone else take the stage?" she wonders of him and his apparent intent to go deep into the dregs of booze. Haruki smiles at Ziv. "You were good. Everyone here is so good. Professional performer good. Vegas stage good." "Mina, love?" Green asks, as she glances back. "Make sure I see you before this all wraps up?" she asks. Pause. "Which means, don't slip out before I can find you?" she adds, with a smile. Then her attention is on Teagan. "Hard cheese, that," she says. Must mean the broken car? "Let me know if you need a taxi, or tow truck?" she offers. And really, it does seem sincere. But, well, Green promptly turns and walks away. So... Green makes her way, with two drinks, over to where Ziv has gone. She slips into an empty chair, directly next to the woman, and sets a ... what are they drinking? Vodka tonic? ... in front of the small woman. "That was incredible, love," Green murmurs, to Ziv. She leans over and presses a kiss to Ziv's cheek. Then she looks past Ziv, to Haruki. "You, too. But I knew you'd be incredible." "Continual beer it is," Mina says with a lift of her mug. The little succuflower is looking a bit dusky in the cheeks - likely due to the amount of coffee-laced-bourbon that she's been putting away behind the bar. But she still moves with a casual grace, like there's music guiding her every step. Nor is she at the point of slurring her words, as of yet. Another beer is opened, and placed in front of Teagan. "Good to meet you." She dusts a bit of pastry dust off of her chest, then looks back up towards the stage. It's brief - gaze moving to Green instead, as the woman speaks to her again. "I'll try not to," is said softly. "But I'm not sure how long I can." Watching, as the woman makes her way over to that other table, and then leaning against her side of the bar. Green ALSO gets her drink set on the table so that she can get her camera ready. Because Franklyn was just announced. She'll take a few test shots of CB's sour face to prepare for what will surely be a study in the Garreau woman, as she does... whatever she does. November, being an obliging creature, never looks less than absolutely fabulous. And photogenic. Fairests. Even when they look like human beings, they're the sort you'd like to shoot and bury in a closet. UN-fairests is more like it. Noting Green's camera, she smiles toward the woman, and does appear to be tempted...until Count's untimely shout over the crowd catches her ear. Green gets a dip of her head, instead, before she weaves her long-legged way toward the laundromat-owner's table, leaning in as if to brush a (cold) kiss over his cheek -- and ruffling his hair without the slightest regard for his dignity. Because that is what friends do. "Yes?" Teal-gold-green eyes focus on Count, for the time being, to the seeming exclusion of all others. C.B. glances over at Ziv. And he was doing such a good job of being invisible! Dagnabbit. "Nope," he tells her plainly. "I'm good. I can still walk and I can still talk, so." Two not-very-enthusiastic-thumbs-up. And an unenthusiastic smile to match. Did Green get that photo? Whether or not she does, the moment C.B.'s aware she's taking pictures, he gives her the scowl of a lifetime. Franklyn helps Green out -- how could she not? Cheek kisses are exchanged, and eventually she manages to make it over to the table with Count, Candice and Haruki -- the drinks for them are deposited all around, and Franklyn is -just- about to get /entirely/ distracted by November's entrance. Where's Green?! Franky is immediately looking for her, expression So Totally Excited-- --then she's got her stage call, and Franklyn blinks, and stands up straighter. Oh shit. Showtime. That vodka and tonic? Dooooowned, and Franklyn gives a little crooked grin to Count, Candice and Green, then turns tail and stalks up towards the stage. "Thank you, darling -- that was, perhaps the third worse introduction I've ever had; but at least you pronounced my name right." Franky grins at C.B., then glides up towards the mic. Is she nervous? No. No she is not -- but there is a change about her, as that #carefreewhitegirl attitude starts to fade, and in comes... Somber, reflective, pathos filled performance faced Franky. Mic stand? Adjusted, while she speaks softly, "...This one is a poem, but I need to give credit to Stephen Vincent Benét -- it's about, an eloquent speaker..." Give her a moment or three to prepare... From high on the cat tower, resting like a furry, papery loaf on his Spinoza-inscribed viewpost, Yossarian watches C.B. without pause. His little cat eyes are narrowed almost to slits. "Ain't the first time, won't be the last," Teagan answers Green, finishing beer number one and exchanging it for beer number two. In all of the chaos, the be-backpacked, leather jacketed Darkling ain't much to look at, and that seems to suit them just fine. Green's short skirt is much more interesting, especially when it's retreating with Green in it. So there's that. Turning their head back toward Mina, they curl up their mouth's corner. "Don't make it so you've gotta flag yourself, hunh?" Their shoulders shift absently in their jacket, and their beer's back at their lips a moment later. "Oh hello," chirps Ziv as Green comes to join the table she's sharing with Haruki. A turn of her head, and she presses a return kiss to the Brit's cheek almost playfully, her dark eyes moving to the young Asian man then. "Thanks. I'd like to think so... but I think the act might need a little more work," she says, with a small bob of her head. Then, she's looking down at the offering that Green has brought her in the form of alcohol. A hand reaches out to close around it, and it's moved up to her nose where she sniffs it slightly, curling her sniffer soon afterwards. "What is this? It doesn't sound very... sweet," she says, readjusting to perch on the back of her chair as she had before. "It smells..." Sniff. "Really bitter? And strong!" Haruki smiles at Green and mouths a 'thank you.' He is very much overwhelmed by everything here it would seem but he's well focus on the stage and who's performing next. And there's Franklyn, with a poem. November's appearance has Candice looking up from Count's side, eyes curious as she takes in the new woman. Candice might be an...odd sort of lovely, in her own strange way, but November really makes her seem more weed than lily. She offers a slightly uncertain smile up at November, waving hello, but Franklyn is performing soon! So Candice twists in place, to watch the ever-emotional Franklyn dig through her things and prepare for the performance, looking intrigued by what Franklyn could possibly be up to. "Oh Frankenatrix, in this moment, I have love only for you..." Count says, as Miss Garreau bring him a vodka heavy cocktail. "The madness will pass I am sure." he add then, picking up the drink and toasting her as she heads up towards the stage, and takes a long sip. So focused on savoring the drink, that he'd all but forgotten November already, so when the false-goddess-in-disguise waltzes up and hives him a smooch to his cheek, he jump s in his seat a little. "Oh! Yes, hello gorgeous." he smiles at her, leaning over to give her a rather too warm peck in return. "Have you met Candice?" he asks, gesturing tot he girl at his side, but then he's pointing to the stage "Frankendoll up there wants to get together at the spectrum, I'm thinking of gathering a big ole group t' go shooting." and he starts to points at various people, namely both Green and C.B. "An some others that aren’t here, you know you wanna give me a discount." as if she were aware that somehow Count was facing financial troubles. When Franklyn starts to speak however, he lets his voice fade, and his attention move to the stage. "Well, Franklyn ordered it," Green murmurs, to Ziv. "So bitter and strong is probably an apt description," she decides. This is all said without lowering the camera. Because she had to get that picture of CB doing the two thumbs up! And also the picture of CB scowling at her. Soon as Franklyn is up, Green starts to snap more pictures. But then November is coming by, and so her attention drifts for a moment. "November, love, you're looking incredible," Green says. And that has her finally focusing on the others - Counts and Candice. "Hello, lovelies," she says. Then the sadistic woman that is Green takes a picture of Count and Candice for all of a few feet away. "For the record, I'm disinterested in getting shot," Green quips. "But might make an exception." And then her attention shifts back to the stage. To Franklyn. When Franklyn composes herself, all that chattering cheerful snarky stage school socialite stuff is left behind, off stage somewhere. Of course, she is an actress right? Putting on airs is like, /her thing/, right? Right. So her foot taps out a tempo, she leans towards the mix stand, and Franklyn begins to speak -- her hands weaving through the air, accentuating her recital: "Had more Daniels than I have got fingers last night, with my friend in the bar;
and when I awoke was a pain in my head, and a stranger's hands caught in my hair...
But it's never one like Daniel Webster: well I heard he could call forth the harps;
that the angels that played there under the ground, for the farmers, as they grew their crops...
I'm a farmer, myself, with my harvest of hearts, and the hardest of parts is the culling;
But I've armour enough, 'gainst the elements rough - though my scythe blade is constantly dulling...
Oh, it's never one like Daniel Webster: cause I heard he'd the power;
to call up the angels that lived in the soil that he tilled, and they'd play their harps until the fall...
In the spring we were given a garden, and we sowed in it seeds that were change;
And we grew this strange fruit, but it rotted and took you too soon so I spent all my money on strange...
Now I can't afford my Daniel Webster but the Devil will buy me for cheap;
And if ever I need, there's the bottle, and the drops I'm permitted to weep."
Finished, Franklyn lets those words just sort of hang there in the air for a moment -- her head bowed, looking down at the stage floor for one beat, two beats, three beats. Who here drinks up emotion, again? They're in for a complicated cocktail, that's for Wyrd-damned sure... But the beat is up, and Franklyn is done: so the Mortal girl raises her head, looks out at the crowd, and there's a vague, secretive smile on her face. "Thank you." Exit stage left, Franklyn Garreau. She heading towards the table with the others? No. Front door, purse in hand as Franklyn pulls out a pack of Lucky's.
Open mic nights attracts all sorts -- the good, the bad, the dirty. In walks a hippy of the unwashed variety, bare feet and everything. Cressida kicks open the door like Wyatt Earp, which is both unnecessary and startling for those closest to the entrance. Maybe she hit some bars before coming here? Or maybe she read a book once that said something to the effect of 'when making an entrance, make sure it leaves an IMPRESSION' and it just stuck with her? Who knows. But here she is, smiling like a lunatic with her hands on her hips. What do you think is going to happen, crazypants? She stands like this for a few seconds, sparkling. Sparkling? Yes. To human eyes, she glows to some extent. Maybe it's the lighting. Maybe she is wearing some kind of freaky skin cream. The brain will come up with whatever it comes up with to rationalize this away. But yup: glowing. To inhuman eyes, she's got a low-level twinkle going on with a halo of celestial bodies swinging about her in a lazy orbit. A translucent comet swings wide and passes through the drink of a nearby patron -- in and out without a even a ripple before rejoin the faux-universe about the Elemental. Anyhoo. She stands! She surveys! She .. shrugs and shuffles deeper into the room. Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle. Though dubious, Ziv lifts up the cocktail and knocks back a substantial amount of the vodka and tonic. Then she lowers it and makes a gagging face, coughing out around the glass and putting it back down to the table before she outright drops it. Tears seep from her eyes, running down along the little paths to either side of her nose and she makes a faint, shuddering motion. "That's wretched," she says to Green, grimacing and pulling her lips downwards. It's then that she seems to notice November, a little too caught up in fighting off the taste of the drink to properly stop and admire the Fairest. "S-sorry *cough* Hello there!" But then she shakes her head, sticking her tongue out and just saying a little melodramatically, "Augh!" C.B. listens to Franklyn as she recites, but doesn't look at her. His whole body is half-tilted, eyes nearly closed, the part of them that isn't closed focused at some distant spot on the ground, rather than her words. Something about him seems grim. Distant and forlorn, like far-off storms on the horizon. There's a small crackle of electricity that works its way around his whole body. Then she's done, and he's applauding for her, same as all the others as he makes his wobbly way back on stage. "Thank you, Franky. I wouldn't have expected anything less." Whatever that means. "Alright, folks, we've come to the end of our signup sheet...anyone else wanna go? Otherwise, yours truly is gonna perform, and nobody wants that, I'm sure." Tom sticks up a hand. "I do. Let's see you perform. Open mic means open! Damn the man! And..." And it's a good thing Tom is easily distracted, this time by his beer bottle, which he realizes is somewhat empty. "Ah, shit." He proceeds to stick the empty beer bottle under the table as if to hide it, then to creep forward awkwardly, harmonica holder still attached to his neck, to go get his guitar case. Ridiculous. Tristan applauds for Franklyn as she completes her own recitation, from where he sits, setting his coffee to one side while he does so before reclaiming it again. Though he continues to converse quietly with Dross, he does also pay attention to each performer as they get up and take the stage, studying them with interest, whether spoken word or song, or act of prestidigitation. Candice applauds at the end of Franklyn's performance, but the pretty girl is already starting to get a vaguely dazed look on her face, much like Haruki's own, except a touch more serenely blank: she's getting a bit overwhelmed, it's true, by everything that's going on, and resolves this by focusing on those tasty foodstuffs she's collected. Mina's voice raises, for the first time beyond quietness, tonight. "Sing for us, Ceebee," she muses, voice as thick as honey. She's given up on coffee - it's just a straight two fingers of bourbon in her mug, right now. November seems disinclined toward sitting, for the time being, standing in slim silence to regard Candice with alert, but not unfriendly interest. Also possibly the wee vague hint of being visually dissected and analysed for one's component parts, but hey, anything can happen. A hair later than she should have, she smiles down at the woman and offers a hand, murmuring, "A pleasure. November an Nua." Green's compliment prompts a dip of her head, Franklyn's recital prompts appreciative silence, and CB's request prompts the oh so polite, seamless snagging of one of Count's arms to lift it up into the air. "You volunteer as tribute, lovely." Innocent. Perfect innocence. Surely there is no other motive beneath that beaming smile. Green stands up, somewhere in the middle of Franklyn's performance. Thankfully, she's five-foot-nothin' and shouldn't block too many views. Her camera clicks a few more times, right up through Franklyn's exit... and then some. She continues to track the other woman with the lens, all the way until Franklyn is out the door. Only after Franklyn is gone does Green settle back down. "Sorry, what, love?" she asks Ziv. She missed the comment about the drink. Green takes up her own vodka tonic and takes a gulp, before she looks back at November. And Count. Green just grins. And then she considers a moment, and her look goes contemplative. She finally rises back up. "Call me, soon," she says, to Ziv. She leans in to kiss the shorter woman's cheek once more. Then blows a kiss to Haruki. Green turns and heads back to the bar, with drink in hand. She's angling at Mina once more. C.B. stands on stage, still, hands on his hips. His eyes move first to Tom, then to Mina -- lingering on the latter with a fine cross-section of worry, anger, and...what is that? Soul-crushing despair, or just the regular kind of despair? Anyway, he lets out a sigh, wondering if he's going to be resigning himself to performing, when November volunteers Count. "Alright, Count," Mmm, mmm, smell that sarcasm! "You're up, buddy." He will indeed hop down from the stage and let Count take the mic. Yep. Cian wants to be where the people are, see them laughing, and singing terrible music. The curious and slightly flighty man slinks into the loud gathering without making a peep. Heel to toe steps are silent on dark grey Chucks. A light grey button up, the sleeves rolled to the elbow, is tucked into almost-black slacks. The silvery grey vest, tailored to his frame, rounds out the ensemble. Mortal blues, or Lost pitch-black, his gaze is searching the place only to find a smattering of familiar faces. The one that sticks is the one he angles towards: Count. The popular Laundromat owner may not feel the impetuous of greeting the shadow considering he doesn't so much as clear his throat to let them know he's there. Both of his hands remain tucked into his pockets, for now. "Nothing," says Ziv, perhaps deciding to leave the disparaging of the drink for now rather than continue to complain about it. Instead she accepts the kiss to her cheek then glances around herself quickly, then leans over to put the remainder of it on a nearby table - which turns out to be Count and Candice's. Hopefully no one mistakes that for water. Straightening up then, she then turns her attention back to the stage, eyes drifting from C.B. to Count as he's called upon to be next thrown to the figurative wolves known as an audience. WOAH! Franklyn nearly falls backwards as Cressida makes her Grand Entrance -- and the Mortal girl? She looks /abso-fucking-lutely/ stunned by that dirty barefoot hippie: her mouth opening into a slack o, as she stares and steps to the side and just =watches= Cressida shuffle into the room. Maybe that's why, when Franklyn takes out a cigarette, she does the immensely rude thing and just keeps the front door of the collective open, so she can stand outside, but hand her head through the doorway -- smoking a cigarette, but trying to exhale the fumes out into the street beyond. Franklyn's mostly successful. At least she can smoke and be pretty much alone and watch the show while skirting all those pesky 'no smoking' laws, or whatevs. When Count is volunteered as tribute, she smiles - but when C.B. calls him up, she frowns. What is she doing, flipping masks on and off in tribute to Thalia and Melpomene, or what? Mina doesn't look away from that lingering gaze of C.B., or the things in it. But then there's a new, volunteered performer, and she looks a touch...disappointed? But it doesn't hold the malice one might expect, given the worry and anger that might have been aimed towards her. The succuflower downs her drink, and slides another beer in front of Teagan - regardless of the current level of the one they've been working on. The return of Green has a little smile curving her lips, a hint of tiredness seeping through. Haruki's watching the stage, a bit blankly. He's off in his own thoughts for the most part, lost in well whatever. For some reason, the Devil and Daniel Webster seems to make an impression on Dross. Perhaps because his name is in it; or perhaps it's the theme... Or is it just the strange words? That inscrutable smile? Whatever it may be, his full attention is focused on the stage for the duration of the performance, and his eyes follow the surprising actress a ways toward the door before coming back to C.B.: worse for the wear with every passing minute, it would appear. Then there's that bourbon-and-saltwater sound in Mina's voice, which draws a long look from Dross, who studies her in silence for a while. On stage, turns keep turning over, and the next performer is called. Dross watches them get up, too. From time to time, when Tristan says something to him, he turns to listen. Candice blinks, looking next to her- Count has been volunteered! She pulls away from Count's side, letting him have all the room he needs to stand up and be fabulous-- and only then notices Cian. Smiling, she waves, gesturing towards the seats around her at the table, and beckoning him to come have a seat. "My oh my." Teagan shakes their head when all of the things happen around them. Their backpack finally slides off their shoulder and lands on top of one of their battered black boots, and they pick up beer #3. "Aren't you a popular girl this evening," they droll toward Mina. Who needs a stage? Apparently everyone is performing tonight, as far as the Mirrorskin is concerned. They'll just be right here with their beer and their fog of angry Mantle. Watching. Count, watching Franklyn's performance is... well he's rapt, paying attention, truly paying attention to the stage for the first time this evening. Even when it's done he's a bit distracted, snapping out of it a bit as Green wanders over "No? But I'd love t' point my pistol at--" and then he's cut off as a cold hand grips his wrist and raises his hand for him. He blinks, confused and then stares at November, narrowing his eyes. "This what you want?" he asks her and then he smiles, the smile is evil. "Fuck it. ladies and gentlemen! Remember, she asked for this." pointing at November dramatically. And then Count is standing, peeling off his leather jacket, taking his drink and chugging it all in one go before he stalks his way to the stage, like a jungle cat through an Applebee's, out of place, tho less so than he is about to be. He does not however jump on the stage just yet, no, first he goes to the sound board, and starts going through a collection of old songs, hamming his way through until he finds one, and presses play. Then the beast is on the stage, as the opening chords of a song that most people will be familiar with, and he strikes a pose, one arm up, hips cocked, leg up in a half moonwalk, all Michael Jackson-esque, even tho the song is by Prince. The beat continues, and his hips start to roll with it, and then, he's reaching down and peeling off his shirt, holding it high, leaving him bare-chested, all tattoo's and scars as he grabs the mic. "Dig if you will the picture
Of you and I engaged in a kiss
The sweat of your body covers me
Can you my darling
Can you picture this?"
his expression is just so =INTO IT=, and the eyeliner and the smouldering look go with the song... But his talent... not so much. "Jesus fucked a pony this shit makes me want to start a bar fight just to make it stop," Teagan mutters into their beer. As Count takes the stage, Ziv just kind of... jaw drops. Possibly because she's getting hit by the vodka and tonic. Possibly because he's just that bad. Possibly because she's not actually certain how to respond to what's going on on stage. But as it continues to happen and the shirt comes off, she instead opts for the 'nice' option. That is, she starts wolf-whistling at the fellow badly strutting his way around and singing. Hey, she's supportive of the arts that people are just so into. Even if they're terrible. Cressida is somewhere in Middle Room when Count starts his thing on the stage. She stops. She stares. She looks aghast. Placing her hands against her ears, she shakes her head: no, no, no, no. "Oh man," she says loudly, not understanding -- or not caring to use -- inside-voices. "..make it /stop/!" Tilting her head back, she just starts to wail. WAIL. Anything, man, to drown out that shit. And keep in mind, she /likes/ Count. Oof. Green's work is never done! There's so many things to take pictures of! Cressida's entrance was somehow missed, but as Green walked across the room she spotted the woman. Yes, picture of her! And then another one, as Cian comes in. Darklings love flash photography, right? But then... Oh! Count is up? Green's eyes flash wide, and she starts to track the man as he makes it up onto stage, as he picks at a song, as the music comes on. "Oh, no, love, please don't..." Green says, aloud. But Count does. And Amanda Green recites a quiet prayer. Perhaps that'll undo this desecration? Of course, it doesn't stop Green from taking pictures. Then halfway through the song, she drops the camera, pivots, and starts around the bar. To go to the other side, the side she probably shouldn't be behind. All so she can slip right up over to Mina. Haruki covers his ears with his hands burying his head on the table. It's bad. So bad! Make it stop! He's visibly cringing and not doing a good job at all of trying to show otherwise. Tom seizes his guitar case, then looks up at the stage. It's a wounded look, like a cat whose tail has been trod on, that Tom offers Count. "I...Love. Prince," he declares, and every word seems to insinuate that Count is murdering His Purpleness on stage in front of him. When he whirls to his feet, he starts stalking to the door in desperate offense. Who knew that 'bad Prince cover' is his bridge too far? It's not a personal diss of any kind, but his walkoff is as catlike as anything he does. So too his point at Cressida as she wails and emphatic nod of the head. You said it, filthy hippie girl, says the gesture, his last word (after a fashion) before he simply walks out. What's that shrill, high-pitched, oscillating sound? It's Franklyn in the doorway -- a loud wolf-whistle as Count starts his super unique interpretation of The Artist Formally Known As' classic tune. The rest of the crowd has... Mixed results. Franklyn? Franklyn is starting to laugh -- it's not mean, honest! Okay maybe there's some meanness mixed in there, but she's applauding and goading Count on: giving him a 'thumbs up' and a wink. Yes, Count: make them suffer. Make. Them. All. Suffer. Shoulda just performed, C.B., instead of wallowing in...whatever it is he's wallowing in. He's not sitting anymore -- just kinda standing near the bar, staring at Count with an expression of mild horror on his face. He doesn't know Prince from anything, but he knows Expression 0 when he hears it! Don't we all. Then Cressida is WAILING and he stares over at her. If she keeps that up, he might storm across to make her stop, or at least see if she's alright...until he gets distracted by Green stalking Mina. He doesn't even notice that maybe half the cafe is fleeing? Yes, distracted. Further distracted by Franklyn laughing at the doorway, though the look he gives her is fierce. If looks could kill, man... "Yes," the rainbow assures Count. Simple, succinct, and pleased. Very pleased. Unreadable beyond said pleasure, too, and when the man gets up, November calmly slides her galaxy-clad patootie down into his seat. The performance... oh, dear. She laughs. November just laughs, delighted, and laughs some more, perhaps a bit too fey for the Totally Human person she is pretending to be, and none too subtly records the entire thing on a slim black smartphone drawn out from the waistband of her leggings. One can never have too much blackmail material. It isn't until Cressida begins to wail that the woman glances over, phone never leaving the stage and its Count-y occupant. Teagan is not Marsha P Johnson, but their hand sneaks toward a shot glass, and it looks like if this shit goes on much longer, the genderfluid Mirrorskin might make another shotglass heard 'round the world. Or at least 'round the bar. They pullllll the shot glass closer to themselves, shifting their beer to their left hand, and squint. Are they thinking of nailing the microphone? A mirror? Just starting a fucking fight to make it stop? Who knows what thoughts lurk in the minds of shadows? Mina, for those that let their gaze linger long enough to see beyond the pretty, those sometimes flashing smiles, does look a bit tired. Maybe there was just a lot of prep put into the evening. Teagan's words get a little quirk, a wry and almost hollow smile. "Everyone loves the fool," she murmurs quietly, before moving over towards one of the other workers. A few quiet words are exchanged, and another member of the Collective takes over barkeep duties. Wincing, slightly, as Count starts to ...perform. Distracted enough, to not catch the movements of Teagan, or even Green. Not even the stare from C.B.. No, the little succuflower is too caught up in the awful. Yeah, Prince is great, R.I.P. but the man formerly known as 'a living person' is probably rolling around in his grave. Count just.. he /CANNOT/ fucking sing, it's not that his voice is that bad really, but when he tries to make it sing? No, It warbles and misses cues, it's dodging rhythm like it owes him money. Which is all too bad, because Count /looks/ good, and if he was just sauntering around, lipsyncing, it might not even be bad, but this... this is an atrocity to music. "Touch if you will my stomach..." And he runs his hand down his abs, and tucks his fingers down the front of his pants, thrusting his hips as he screeches like a white boy into the mic. "...Feel how it trembles inside
You've got the butterflies all tied up
Don't make me chase you
Even doves have pride
How can you just leave me standing?"
And the song, not very long, seems to go on for an eternity, but finally, finally it ends, with another 'King of Pop' Pose. Speaking of Pop, Count, SOMEHOW obtained one of those cheap plastic confetti Poppers, and when he raises his hand up in the end, there's that sound, and teeny streamers fly in all directions. "Thank you.." he huffs into the mic, looking quite pleased with himself, and starts blowing kisses into the tortured crowd, and takes a bow in Franklins direction, before he, by the mercy of God himself, leaves the stage. It wasn't the sound of Count mercilessly slaughtering Prince on stage, most likely, since Ziv was after a fashion applauding that... but then the wailing starts from Cressida's displeasure at the situation she's been put into. Then next, there's the loud and shrill whistling coming from Franklyn near the door. It's quickly becoming a cacophony of different sounds in here and Ziv gives a sudden, sharp grimace. Just like that she's on her feet and making a bee-line towards the door, without all the huff that the Tom cat just recently let in. No, she looks far more like a bat trying to escape a room it accidentally bumbled into and suddenly there's college students everywhere. Or some other sort of similar situation. Either way, it's apparent that she's making a quick and grand escape. She's even forgetting her coat and bike helmet. Oh, look at Candice. She's looking up at Count with a smile as he performs. A confused smile. Is this music? Cackling? Performance art? Is it an objection to the idolistic nature of music and celebritydom in corporate america? Either way, Candice is going to smile. Smile and throw mildly chiding glances at those who aren't letting Count express himself on stage. He's /trying/, people! She even turns to outright let a "Shhh!" Escape towards Cressida's direction, looking vaguely helplessly back at Count. COUnt, you can do it! Candice believes in your art, even if she doesn't understand it! There is an interesting expression that crosses Tristan's face when Count begins performing. He just sort of tips his head a little to one side and purses his lips, as though he just tasted something and couldn't identify what it was, and then, then there is the covering of his lips with one hand. And then he laughs, he can't help it, shoulders shaking just a bit. It's an unusual expression on the otherwise serious Darkling's face, but it is quiet genuine laughter that makes him seem much younger and less serious. It's only when Dross says something to him that he's distracted from the performance and looks back over to the man next to him. Cian had the safety of Count for a fleeting miniscule moment. And while Candice is a lovely creature and her come hither invitation noted, the Darkling is suddenly beset upon by flash photography. Boom! Those pupils dilate to nearly swallow the color. To the Lost the light is simply swallowed by his pitch-black gaze. Except. Except he's a freaking sneakthief! And bright lights are literally his biggest issue next the crushing realization that this is his life now. Stiffening, he blinks through the blinding moment only to hear Count caterwauling in the background with Cressida on the Songs of Our People back-up. Too much. A little smile is given to Candice, and he even briefly swings next to her so that he can give her shoulder a brief touch. Then he's bee-lining the door, not even giving proper appreciation for Count. Franky's in the door? He slides right by her, finding just enough room to squeeze his skinny ass through and doing so. Darkling Duck is not getting Dangerous tonight. When the song finally ends, Teagan clicks the shot glass on the bar top twice. "Ain't nobody loving murdering dead royalty," they mutter after Mina, "and don't cut your own self down." They finish their beer, sighing and leaning back. Disgust, sure, horror, sure, but at least one human here gotta be a little mad about how Prince just got done dirty like a cheap quickie after a high school football game, and that suits the Summer's glamour reserves just fine. "Encore!" comes a call from the back. Yeah, that's Green. Couldn't hide that accent anywhere, not in the town, at least. But soon as the words out, she's looking to not be seen as the one having said it. Good thing she's behind the bar. And maybe that's why she's stepping right up to Mina - who doesn't need to find her, because Green's on it! - and slipping an arm around the other woman's waist. She leans over to whisper. Just to look busy, like she's not shouting encouragement to Count. C.B. doesn't even bother applauding for Count. Fuck equality. "Just a reminder, folks," he says into the mic, "This is Open Mic Night, not Open Karaoke Night." Aaaaaand that's all he's going to say about that. He sighs into the mic, audibly, and says, "Alright, if there are no other victims, I'm gonna do a set or two." His words are a little fuzzy around the edges. "Slurred" would be an overstatement, but they aren't as crisp and sharp as they usually are. He puts the side of his hand up to his forehead and scans the audience. "Anyone?" He scowls openly at Green when she calls out 'Encore!' "How about you, Amanda Green? You want to wow all of your many admirers with some of your alleged musical skills?" "What a FINSIH!" Franklyn - who has somehow gotten kinda intoxicated in the last few minutes of half-sulking outside of that doorway - has abandoned her cigarette now so she can raise her hands and clap, clap, clap if rapturous applause for Count, whistling shrilly. Never mind that she spend a lot of the performance covering her mouth, with literal tears in her eyes -- or leaning outside and sniffling, obviously with emotion. Oh. And there's Cian - right next to Franky! The mortal blinks twice, and paws at her nose as she looks the Darkling up and down and up and down again, head tilted. "Hello stranger." Wait, what was C.B. saying? Franklyn turns her head, and screams into the bar: "AMANDA, YOU'RE UP!" Yeah. Someone's... A little rowdy; possibly four, five seconds for wildling. Wait, what? Was that her name? Green's attempt at hiding has, apparently, failed miserably. She blinks a few times, as she stares up at CB across the way. It's a quiet moment of consideration before she finally calls back to the front. "I'll sing if you ask sweetly, Ceebee!" There's suddenly an arm around her waist, and Mina gives a half start at it, before the voice in her ear registers as familiar. She leans into Green, turning her head to murmur something in return, before glancing towards the stage. And then, her company's being called up to stage, not only by C.B., but Franklyn as well. With a smooth movement, she slides away from said Amanda Green, and makes a grand gesture towards the stage. To Teagan, there's just one of those wry smiles, at the comment of selling herself short. Maybe it's the nice big sip they got somewhere of something that satisfied them that keeps Teagan from hurling a shotglass at a mirror, or at Count, or at some random face just to fucking start a fight for shits and giggles. Maybe it's the fact that it isn't the greatest intro a person could have. But Teagan doesn't hurl the glass. Instead, they leaaaaaan back against the bar, shaking their head, and finish beer #3. The person who took over for Mina slides Teagan #4. Life is good. C.B. stares right back at Green. Blink. Blink. Nope. "...Alright, I guess I'm up, then." Ask sweetly? In this lifetime? Not a chance, Amanda Green. He starts moving towards the back for one of his own instruments -- yes, he brought a few. This one, the one he drags over, appears to be an electric guitar. It's bruised and battered and not particularly nice or expensive or anything. He's already in the process of plugging it into a small amp and tuning it, unless Green wants to bum rush the stage and start doing something. When Count gets off the stage, Cressida intercepts him on his way back to the table. Standing before him, she places a hand on his shoulder to halt his progress for a moment and she just .. she shakes her head at him. Shakes. Her. Head. That was NO BUENO. And there doesn't have to be words exchanged between them because her expression says it all: Never let that happen again, man. Stepping aside, she lets him continue and as she does so, she spots Cian making a dash for the door. "Hey!" she says at his back. "HEY!" The twinkly one spring-hops after him, barefeet slapping against floorboards as she navigates through the crowd. Dross watches C.B. take the stage, one eyebrow raised. This should be interesting. Interesting enough that he puts his drink down and takes a moment to glance up at Yossarian, whose attention is also focused on their (slightly?) drunk and disorderly host. Green gasps, as she's skipped despite popular demand. Could be she's channeling her inner Franklyn. "Oh, Ceebee!" she calls up. Then Green quickly turns, to press a kiss to Mina's cheek, and then she's off, hustling towards to stage. As she passes nearish Franklyn, Green gives the other woman a wide-eyed stare and a thumbs up. She looks ridiculous. "Play guitar for me, Ceebee!" Green is calling, as she works up onto the stage. "I know you know the song!" Encore?! Count stops, and starts to turn around... and then stops when CB is already up there, saving the world (or at least the room) from another aural assault. Reminded that it is /not/ karaoke night, Count does have the grace to look, just a little embarrassed, but not /too/ much. Then CB says those things to Green and Count says "Daaaaayyyymn." aloud, and looks over to the bar "You gonna take that shit from him?!" Still shirtless, Count makes his way back to the stage, walking with the cockiness of a rockstar exiting the stage to a cheering crowd, or perhaps a man walking across the corpses of those fallen before him. One of those. Only he is stopped by Cressida and simply beams at her. "Be nice, or I'll come haunt your dreams with even more." before stepping around her. As he gets to the table, he reaches in front of Candice, and steals /her/ untouched vodka drink, and takes a long sip, but not seating himself yet "So?" he asks, blithely and falsely innocent. "How'd I do?" he even tosses his head, pulling some hair from his eyes, looking back over his shoulder towards Franklyn, giving her a big smile before his attention is drawn to C.B. up onna stage. Haruki doesn’t' even seem to have noticed at first, on account of having his head buried in his arms, that Ziv has gone. Which leaves him alone. Which is. Well ok. And Ziv's left her things so surely she'll be back anyway. Poor C.B. He was all ready to do...whatever he was gonna do, and now there's some pushy broad here on stage with him. Just some random pushy broad! Or, you know, Green. Whatever comes first. He scowls at her, and at Count, and half-perches on a stool that's up here. "I don't know any of your electronic millennial pablum, Green. No." And yet...AND YET...he has not gotten down again. Almost like he's actually going to do what she's asking! Well, he is the host here. Franky turns, distracted, to look up at the collective's stage. Oooh, C.B. Alexander has upstaged Amanda Green? Sorry Cian, sorry Count, sorry plethora of gloriously Wyrd faeries: Franklyn's attention is entirely caught up in watching that weird desperate Wizened man get out an electric guitar -- because of course /C.B./ would play an electric. But the dramz, tho'. Did Count just goad Green on? Yes, yes -- Franklyn sunglasses glasses are long gone, but her boozy wits are still (just) about her. This is happening, this is /happening/, and Green is on stage with C.B., and Franklyn? Franklyn is loving it. Greatest show on earth. Soon as the little Brit that is Amanda Green is up on stage, she angles right for CB, smiling all the while. It's such a sweet smile. Cat that got the cream. And the canary. She proceeds directly up to the man, and then leans down, to whisper. So close, that whisper. Green's lips are almost touching CB's ear. She murmurs out a few words, then draws back, brows lifting, waiting to see if the man will oblige her. Cian was trying. Instead there's a Franky, being uncooperative, and the flap flap of Cressida's feet against the floor chasing after him. Called out he just looks straight at the Galaxy Girl with expressive eyes and waves. Look. See. He recognized you, tooootally don't need to call further attention to himself. And then Green sliding right up on Franklyn and the Darkling is /surrounded/. Meep. Big eyes get bigger as his focus flickers from one handful of crazy to the next. He registers that his cousin is taking the stage, the interplay and drama flying openly through the room. Except there is only three forces of nature between him and freedom. From the back of the room, it looks like things are getting better and better. Dross irons out what look suspiciously like the very earliest beginnings of a smile and takes his eyes from the stage for a moment to survey all the current denizens of the room. His gaze pauses, in particular, on the stranger who's been muttering dark commentary from the bar all night. Then he sits back to wait and see what happens next. Focus back on the performers: C.B. and Amanda Green at the moment, setting up. Candice only smiles brightly at Count, "I feel like I didn't properly understand all the emotions you were trying to evoke," She tells him, quite earnestly, "But it was such a unique performance! What-- exactly was that song you were singing, again?" Candice asks, those blue (red to Lost) fully supportive. But then there is all that drama going on, and she just drinks more water from her pitcher, looking out towards the stage and blinking a few times. Trying to follow what's going on. There's a sympathetic look from by the bar, one Darkling observing the pain of another, but Teagan stays with their beer. Cian is deffo on his own over there. Teagan may be enjoying the schadenfreude of it all, or some shit like that. While Count is sauntering his way back from the stage after his conquest of aural domination, November is observing the crowd with an air of blithe satisfaction. Someone got -precisely- what she wanted. Still sitting in -his- chair at the table when he arrives, the elastic in the rainbow's hair finally cedes the field when she shakes her head at the man, heavy, (naturally) perfectly straight strands spilling over her shoulders to puddle in her lap. "You performed admirably, Count. I greatly appreciate your skill." The CB/Green business is observed, noted, but most of her attention is on the Prince-slaughtering 'hero' and Candice nearby. Mina, more bourbon in hand, and not quite as much grace in her step - she moves to the patron side of the bar, and takes a seat on an empty stool. Legs cross, and the slit of her maxi skirt gives a show of that pale skin, the lengthy and leanly muscled dancer's limb. And then, she does that completely still/silent thing once more. Is she even breathing over there? Just watching the stage. C.B. staaaaaaaares at Green, after she whispers whatever it is she just whispered. Damn, that is not a nice look. Not at all. But with a very audible sigh, he leans back on the stool, tuning his guitar and shaking his head. As if to say: why am I doing this, why did I EVER run this night, what I am doing with my life? And any number of various things that are probably flashing through C.B. Alexander's head right now, as he glances back up at Green, looking the very opposite of pleased, but -- he suddenly gets off the stool again, and murmurs something into her ear. Eventually, Ziv returns from out of doors and whatever had driven her from the cafe and performances being done on stage. One hand is raised to her right ear, and she's idly either scratching or picking at it. But in the apparent intent to get back to the table and collect her things there, she pauses at the cluster of people surrounding the door. There's a rise to the balls of her feet and toes, and then she starts trying to push past the group (which is presumably still there!), possibly just kind of ineffectually drifting to and fro and not seeming truly willing to -shove- anyone. Another long-suffering sigh from C.B., who puts the electric aside (amp off) and moves to the back of the stage for another guitar, an acoustic this time. Also battered and worn, the case covered in political bumper stickers. He hops back up on the stool, starting to tune again, and then starts into a tune that is probably immediately recognizable to some, though maybe not to everyone: the opening riff of "Light My Fire," played at a slower tempo than the original. C.B., by the way? The electric Wizened can play guitar. There's no doubt about it. He may not be a professional musician, but he's clearly very practiced, fumbling not at all over the bars of music. And looking like he'd maybe like to be anywhere else but up on this stage with Green right now. Leaning across the bar, Teagan summons the person who took over for Mina, and with a shrug that makes their leather jacket creak, mutters something. Another drink appears at Mina's elbow right around the time a fresh beer shows up in Teagan's hand. The Summer digs in their pocket, pulls out a battered smartphone, and starts texting. They look up every so often, watching the room, and making sure no cameras get a good shot of their face. Somehow there is always a beer bottle or phone in between them and a camera. Green waits, watching CB. She watches his agony and his despair. And all the while, her look remains wholly unchanged. She's so very pleased. He whispers to her, she whispers back, and then, hopefully that's the end of it, because Green is lifting her camera up over her head and setting it aside. She then steps to the mic stand, and slides it out. She glances aside, at CB, then over to the crowd. "Good evening, hep cats and kittens," comes that delightfully smooth, English-accented voice, just as CB starts to play. "This is... Light My Fire... and we're going to do it... the Astrud Gilberto way..." And then Amanda Green closes her eyes, as she holds the mic close, with two hands. A foot starts to tap, as she fixes her time to CB's. Soon enough, she's all but purring into the microphone. "You know that it would be untrue...
You know that I would be a liar...
If I was to say to you...
Girl, we couldn't get much higher..."
It seems that Green can sing. This is no Count performance. This is something rather beautiful. Her eyes open, and there's a quick scan of the crowd, and Green sends a wink out towards the exit. Then her attention swings to CB, and she sings... to him. All the words, spoken as if they're meant for CB Alexander personally. "Come on baby, light my fire...
Come on baby, light my fire...
Try to set the night on fire..."
See guys? SOME PEOPLE appreciate Count's future singing career. Count smiles at November and Candice, pleased as punch, and then finishes off the drink in his hand. As November seems to be occupying his chair, she clearly desires him in her lap, and so, there he sits, sliding into place atop her thighs, putting an arm around her shoulders and then looks to Candice. "November here, is an old friend of mine, from years ago. Imma invite her to hang out with us more at th' laundry, and see how you all get along." because November is, too clever to get suckered into a Motley like some people. Count however, isn't gonna ignore the performance, he's turning his head to the stage, while also looking around the table for more peoples drinks to pilfer, and then sorta drifts back to the singing. Ugh, it's good, performed by people with... talent. Gross. no, Not Gross, he's definitely smiling and watching, swaying back and forth, just a little bit. Haruki's definitely enjoying this performance. He watches Green and CB on the stage with admiration, smiling as he does so. Mina watches the interaction between C.B. and Green, unblinking, from that stool. It's only once Green starts to serenade the author that she finally blinks, and that stillness breaks. She tosses back her drink, one swallow. And just as she's about to order herself yet another drink, she finds one at her elbow. A look of thanks, given to Teagan, before she takes this one more slowly. And then, all at once. Having made her way over to Cian, Cressida beams a bright smile at him. Literally! She's all extra-twinkle with the stars and the comets and whatnot. Slipping her arm in with the Darklings, she crushes his hopes for an easy getaway. "HI," she says, all shout-y because .. again. She lacks that an effective inside-voice. "Did Count's singing scare you away? It was awful, right? It's like he was trying to murder ear-drums. It was very not good. I don't think the song was supposed to sound like that." Natter-natter-natter. Babble-babble-babble. Tipping her head to look at Franklyn, she blinks slowly at the woman. Unbeknownst to her, a mini-moon passes straight through her forehead and pops out the back of her head while it travels along on its lazy orbit; a few stars fall down across her shoulders unfelt. All she can see, though, is that Cressida glows a bit. Lighting, yannow. "So this is the place we smoke?" she asks, observing the mortal's cigarette. Without waiting for an answer, she grabs an unlit joint from behind her ear, presses it between her lips and starts fishing around in her pocket for a lighter. "Now see, this is better," she says, the joint bobbing with each word spoken. What's better? The hippy nods toward the stage. "Doesn't make me want to stab my ears until they bleed." Yossarian's tail lifts up and thuds once, softly, against the observation post that he's sitting on. No way to say if it's in time with the music or a sign of protest against something. His paper fur still lies smoothly all along his body, so maybe he's not too upset--for now. Oh. My. Dark. Gods: Franklyn is too stunned - or possibly intoxicated - to even get her phone out and document this glorious moment, as C.B's stroppy protests result in nothing changing except that guitar and the tempo of the room, as he and Green start their unlikely musical collaboration. Is Franklyn swooning? Is she upset? Does she have a headache? Delighted beyond words? Looks like possibly all four -- there's some pain in her expression, but that's getting flooded away by other Feelings as she just... Stares. Stares out at the singing. Speechless and... Totally glazing over, as Franky either gets wrapped up in the experience, or just her own internal narrative. She'll need prompting from the outside. Such as Cressida's approach? Yeah. That's... Franklyn doesn't have words for her either -- she just stares, all moon faced, and starts nodding her head, like Cressida could just do... Whatever the fuck she pleases. A little shrug of their shoulders in response to the grateful look. "You deserve it," seems like. Then Teagan is actively enjoying the actual performance on the actual stage for once instead of watching all the little internecine dramas playing out across the room. At least, they seem to be paying actual attention and aren't threatening to throw a shot glass. C.B. is not having it. He glares right into Green's eyes, those wire-rimmed glasses still half-slipped down on his nose, as she apparently serenades him with the chorus of the song. He is not smiling, or even smirking. Then again, he's also not scowling as fiercely as he has even this very evening. Just continues playing the song, and playing it well, not stumbling once over the progression of the chords. Almost like he's, y'know, maybe played it many times before, if not at this tempo. November, unlike Franklyn, does indeed record the performance, doing so even as Count slides into her lap and introduces her to Candice. "He doesn't believe in divinity," she notes as an aside toward the other woman, voice low to avoid being picked up too clearly on the phone, as though such beliefs are an obscure and shameful habit, akin to not cleaning the sink after shaving his beard and leaving hair-bits everywhere. "Even in the spirit of lost socks." That, clearly, is worse. Execrable, even. Ziv's ears perk at the sound of the voice on stage, and the electric guitar, hooking the Beast's interest for at least a short time. Those with mortal sight only might only see her head turn that way, with a look of interest... but then her ears slick back down and to the sides for whatever reason. Still stuck back near the door, she steps forward in order to brush-slash-shove past Franklyn. It's not very hard, considering that she's neither trying to be rude or hurtful. And she's just not that big to begin with. Her dark eyes catch on Cressida, though, and the only immediate response she really seems to have for the Elemental is a rather undignified, "Whoa!" She virtually ogles the girl, mouth dropping just slightly open from where she's partially shoved past Franklyn and into the room. Then, a flick of an ear, and she clears her throat to try to wriggle further past, and back towards where she left her things. Slightly single-minded, perhaps... or trying to be but she's certainly getting distracted in all the interesting-looking Changelings. Mina's lips part, like she's about to say something to Teagan. But then there's a shake of her head, and a small dip of it. "Enjoy the rest of your night," she does murmur, before that ginger succuflower is quickly, quietly, and even stealthily, making her way out the door. Disappearing, behind the rest of the crowd. Green reaches out a hand, to brush ever so softly over CB's shoulder. A silent little show of gratitude as she continues on, turning her attention back to her audience. As she continues to sing out the song, her hips start to sway, and with it that little circle skirt swishes back and forth. "The time to hesitate is through...
No time to wallow in the mire...
Try now we can only lose...
And our love become a funeral pyre..."
Amanda Green's eyes swing through the crowd, pausing now and then to make eye contact. She looks to Count, and a grin tugs at the corner of her lips. Her eyes drift further, to November, who gets a quick kiss blown her way between verses. The song finally draws out to it's end, and as Green hits the last refrain, she reaches out a hand, off towards the bar. Hard to say where she's angling that gesture, but, well, Mina and Teagan are both right there. Or, well... Mina was there... Cue the momentarily perplexed look on Green's face. She recovers quickly. "Come on baby, light my fire...
Come on baby, light my fire...
Try to set the night on fire..."
The last line repeats a few times, and then Green falls silent. She steps forward, to fix the mic back onto the stand. "Thank you..." she coos into the microphone. Then there's a stray glance back towards CB, and that's it. Green snags her camera and then steps down off the stage. Haruki applauds them, quietly, no cheering from him, but he's still gazing at the stage in wonder and a bit of awe. Franklyn is jostled by Ziv's approach -- that has her turning slowly to blink at the delicate young thang, her head tilting. Oh my. Did Franklyn take a bad pill at some point? Or maybe just a very strong good pill? Snort some mystery powder on the down-low when she was outside? The Mortal girl is starting to look a little, shall we say, peaky: a flush to her cheeks, a wildness in her eyes, swaying slightly where she stands and holding her hands out, as if she could hold on to the very air itself and gain some stability. It works about as well as one would expect. Franklyn looks like she's fallen down some kind of a rabbit hole, and is trying desperately to turn herself the right way around. Which was is up, again? When Mina runs out of the room, an odd look flashes quickly over Dross's face. What is that? He turns his head to watch her leave, still looking thoughtful. Then looks back up at the stage, where Green and CB are finishing their act. The expression in his eyes closes off again. Door: open and shut. Nope, never mind. Green is poof, and that leaves Cian staring down a Wild Cressida and the impeccable Miss Garreau. It still means his attempted escape is thwarted. Thankfully he doesn't notice Teagan getting her jollies from his suffering. There might have been murderous glares or something equally hostile. Lifting up to his toes he looks around Cress some, searching maybe. The beyond emotional Franky still near by has the Darkling suddenly sharply focused. The galaxy babe is whipping out her usual doobie and he's blinking rapidly between them. Well. What could possibly go wrong? No one will notice the thief's wandering fingers, and if they do, they'll be understanding. Right? Right. "Take care, Mina." Hey. Teagan's gotten like one whole name of one whole person, they're gonna use it. And then? Apparently Teagan is either the target or the stand-in, and whether either one of those is desirable to them or makes them feel like chopped liver left outside during July, tough to say. They just curl up one corner of their mouth sardonically and offer Green a two-finger kiss, literally exactly like the gif on their wiki. And then beer. Ziv catches a look at Franklyn's odd face she's pulling and that seems to halt her in wanting to go gather up her things and possibly skedaddle. Turning more from Cressida (and the pretty awesome look she presents) towards the wild and possibly stoned creature, she flicks an ear... which translates to Mortal eyes, generally, as just looking curious in one direction. Her ears are currently mostly folded down and back though, except for the occasional twitch to catch a sound. "Someone spike your drink?" she asks Franklyn - carrying a bit of a joking tone to the words, as tasteless as they might be. But she also sounds just a little bit concerned as well. C.B. puts his acoustic aside, taking up the electric again and returning to the stool. Also: grabbing that bottle of Wild Turkey. Yes, the bottle. Screw the glass. He takes a long, long swig and sets the bottle down on the stool next to him, adjusting the mic so it's level to his mouth while he's sitting. "Well, how can I possibly follow that up," he deadpans. It's entirely possible he doesn't expect to follow it up, in fact, but who cares? He's drunk, the mic is his, now -- at long last? -- and now he will probably hog it for the rest of the night. He glances over at the bar and -- wait, where did Mina go? Oh well. He looks surprised not to see her there, but then his focus is back on the audience. "This one's a classic and better than you all deserve." Still not entirely slurring his words, but. The dude is drunk. Not drunk enough so he can't sing, though. He starts singing, and while this particular song isn't one that needs amazing vocals, it's clear that C.B.'s just as decent a singer as he guitarist: Who can kill a general in his bed?
Overthrow dictators if they're Red?
Fuckin' A-man!
CIA Man!
"Oh no..." Count corrects to November from the side of his mouth "...I know exactly who steals the socks." Yes he does. It's Lulu. "She's pretty, but no goddess." there's a blue tongue stuck out, close to Novembers face. "And who says I don't believe in the divine? I just don't believe in pretenders." He even lifts his chin haughtily. As the performance ends, he brings two fingers to his lips and lets out a long whistle, in exactly the way his player never learned how to do. Then he's glancing around and spots Cian, for the first time (damned stealthy darklings) and Smiles. "'Scuse me." he murmurs and slips from Novembers lap, to head towards the man, and also Cressida and Franklyn. Cress brings with her the siren call of the devils lettuce and Frank... well Frank doesn’t look too good, and that puts a frown on the beasts face. Coming over he grins at Cian, putting his hand on the darkling’s shoulder "When did you get here?" he asks, and then leans over to Franklyn to murmurs something quietly. Green doesn't look back as CB takes over the mic. She's looking, looking, looking. Trying to decide where it is she's going. A faint frown tugs at her lips after a moment, but then she spots Franklyn. Oh. Her brows lift, and she heads directly towards the woman. Nevermind Cian and Cressida there! Franklyn has grabbed her attention. Soon as she gets close enough, she's reaching out to grab Franklyn's hand, or slip an arm about her waist. Whatever's most possible. C.B. isn't particularly focused on anyone in the audience. Too drunk for that now -- though still not so drunk that he stumbles over the playing. If anything, the inebriation loosens his words and his fingers. He keeps on with the song, plowing through every verse. Is anyone paying attention to him? No? Who cares! He'll just pretend like you're all not here. God dammit. Where did her lighter go? Cressida checks one pocket. And then the other. And then that first pocket again. For some reason, she looks down the front of her shirt but .. nope. Not there either. "Fiddlesticks," she mutters and then looks at Franklyn. "May I?" The fallen star points at the mortal's cigarette, doing a slow burn there between the woman's fingers. It's almost half-ash at this point but .. Franky seems to have gone almost catatonic at this point. While most people would be concerned by this, maybe ask if she's okay, Cress just sees it as an indication of approval. Hey! She didn't say she minded so that means YES, right? So she takes Franklyn's cigarette and uses it to light her joint. It's around this time that everyone shows up and starts fussing. Count! Green! Cressida pipes up: "She said I could!" .. borrow her cigarette, that is. And that's not technically what happened but she hands it back to the poor dear. Stars and moons, planets and comets -- they all floats around and expand outward a bit, encompassing the little party here by the door. Sparkle party! Woot! Taking a few puffs off her joint, she offers it to Cian while the others tend to If the Millennial of a Darkling could roll his eyes harder, he might go blind from the effort. Cian's eyes don't fall on Count until he's suddenly there, putting himself in the midst of things means the thief is shrinking away..to Cressida. Clearing his throat he manages a slightly loud whisper to reach over the din of people, "Long enough to learn that when you're being gullible, you're really just plotting. Prince, though?" He seems vaguely pained by this. The jitters are still there, the nervous and still vaguely center-of-attentioned man shifting uncomfortably while his hands wander where they will. Eventually one hand reaches up and gingerly plucks the joint from Cressida's lips so that he can take a long slow intake. Maybe this'll help the anxiety? Worth a shot. Saucer-eyes look up at Count eventually right before the shadow slinks a little closer to the Beast, tentative steps. "It's loud," he notes in his soft spoken sound when close enough. A glance to Franky and Green, they're preoccupied with one another, which leaves the Death Star and Count now potentially preventing exit. One hand grabs the phone out and he types. When Green finishes her performance, Tristan applauds for her as well. He catches Mina's departure, despite her stealth, and glances after her for a moment, but then he returns his attention toward the stage to see what might come next, watching as CB begins to sing, studying him from where he sits, and finally finishing off the remainder of his cup of coffee, having long gone cold. Although not cramped, CAT-22 isn't all =that= big. Every seat has a good view of the stage. If you're paying attention, even the view of the performers' faces is pretty good. Dross watches C.B.'s face closely while he sings. Though the guitar playing Wizened's voice hews true enough for now, there's a red, tired look around his eyes, and it's clear that whatever drinking has happened so far tonight, that started much earlier on for C.B. He doesn't move from his seat, but his focus does sharpen even further as the music plays on. While Count is otherwise occupied, November removes herself from his seat with a swishy swing of thigh-length hair which must cost a ruddy fortune to keep dyed in such vibrant colours. She doesn't wait for farewells, drifting along with the crowd until she reaches the exit and slips out. Candice, still seated at her table, has zoned out, in the way that pretty, strange girls who are also flowers might, idling sipping at water while her eyes roam around the room without looking as if she's seeing much. Leaning back in her seat, she splits what little attention she has between the stage and the group her motleymates are in, blinking far too few times. Green glances aside. "Cressida," she says, with a sweet smile and a tone to match. "Cian," she says, and her tone goes a little, well. A little less sweet. She squints at the man a moment. Yes, she knows them both. She turns her gaze to Count for a moment, as he's right there, and considers the man. Finally, her attention is back to Franklyn, who has gone catatonic. "Do you want me to go, love?" she asks, and gives a little squeeze of Franky's hand. Haruki's still here, sitting, quietly watching the room and sipping his water. He forgets to applaud CB's performance, all sorts of distracted like. There is so much shit going on that frankly -- sorry -- Teagan can't keep track of it. So they watch. "You look like you're seeing a ghost," chirps Ziv from where she's standing next to Franklyn, and now Green since the Brit has made her way over in order to check on the person who appears to have gotten stoned or worse during her time at Cat-22. One ear perks forward, but then flattens out down and to the side, before the other follows the same suit with its motions... but then she's getting distracted by Cressida, because it's really hard to ignore someone that has glitter and glow and planets forming on their face. Eventually, the bat-girl gives a faint clear of her throat and then offers up, "Should I get you some water? Advil? Blood of a virgin?" Apparently, sometimes she does have something approaching a sense of humor. C.B. barely waits for applause. What applause? Most people are probably talking over him, by this point. Okay, so he's been relegated to house band. That's fine. He keeps drinking and he keeps singing, still on electric: "You've got a lotta nerve to say you are my friend
When I was down you just stood there grinnin'
You've got a lotta nerve to say you got a helping hand to lend
You just want to be on the side that's winnin'
You say I let you down, ya know its not like that
If you're so hurt, why then don't you show it?
You say you've lost your faith, but that's not where it's at
You have no faith to lose, and ya know it
I know the reason, that you talked behind my back
I used to be among the crowd you're in with
Do you take me for such a fool, to think I'd make contact
With the one who tries to hide what he don't know to begin with?"
Oh Frankie... you gotta ask Count /that/ question. That sinister gleam in his eyes, that vicious smile "Well, a little..." deadpan, blue tongue dragging against the upper row of his teeth, but then there's a frown, as she doesn't look to great. Then Green is there and he looks to her, Flashing her a smile "You got some nice pipes there dollface." Then Count smells something, lifting his chin, that cerulean tongue darting out, like a snake tasting the air, and he turns, to see Cressida and her Joint, and he snatches it as Cressida offers it towards Cian, and takes a long heavy hit from it, and then another, before holding it up between his Darkling motleymate and the dazed AF Franklyn, holding the smoke in his lungs, holding... holding.... exhale. Franky didn't need that cigarette, anyway! Cressida is free to light The Devil's Lettuce, and start turning this open mic night into a violation of the Clean Indoor Air Act. "Do what thou wilt." Franklyn chirps to either Cressida or Green - flippant, sure, but not exactly dismissive; it's like she's speaking on rote, because there is just so /much/ going on. Her attention is pinging between the stage, Green and Cressida, and Cian and Count, the action over at the bar, and now Ziv as the little batling speaks to her. Franklyn blinks twice. "Where did you get virgin blood?" That's not a =no=, though. Franky hesitates, shaking her head. "I don't see ghosts-- I see--" One breath, two breath. The music is changing, and so is Franklyn's mood: turning to stare at Count, "/What/, you're gonna treat me like that, right now, here? /Really/?" Manicured fingers reach out and snatch that joint, so she can puff-puff-puff and be a rebel. Girl... Isn't that bad for paranoia? It's handed over to Cian, but Franky isn't looking at him, she's looking... She just looking a little sharp, a little prickly, as her eyes scan the room. For those who can see it, Cressida gets all twinkly when Green greets her -- shifting darkness offering contrast to light, faux-galaxy expanding, stars falling about her head and shoulders before dimming out of existence. "My friend!" she says enthusiastically, pointing at Amanda Green! "Did you bring your cat?" What an odd question but she seems to hang on the answer, hoping against hope for a YES. Her joint is making the rounds, traveling from one person to the next, and it has settled now with Count. "You are a bad singer," she reminds him with a tsk. Maybe he doesn't deserve her weed after that atrocity on stage? Luckily, the weed moves on to people more worthy of it and she turns toward the stage a moment to hoot and hollar at the fellow up there doing it /right/. She's quite oblivious to Franky's mental distress -- either that or trusts that everyone else has it well in hand. Cupping her hands around her mouth, she bellows: "FREEBIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRD!!" Even though he's probably played this song dozens of times, C.B. has to look at his hands a bit right now. That's what happens when you've drank so much that you're starting to go a little blind. You know how it is. Also? The most he does is squint at the audience, when the likes of Cressida are screaming at him. If anything, he just sings louder. "You see me on the street, you always act surprised
You say "how are you?", "good luck", but ya don't mean it
When you know as well as me, you'd rather see me paralyzed
Why don't you just come out once and scream it
No, I do not feel that good when I see the heartbreaks you embrace
If I was a master thief perhaps I'd rob them
And tho I know you're dissatisfied with your position and your place
Don't you understand, its not my problem?
I wish that for just one time you could stand inside my shoes
And just for that one moment I could be you
Yes, I wish that for just one time you could stand inside my shoes
You'd know what a drag it is to see you..."
For the first time in awhile, C.B. Alexander grins. Most people probably haven't seen his grin, and for good reason: his teeth are slightly crooked and nicotine yellowed and he's missing several near the back. He isn't grinning at anyone or anything. He doesn't even particularly seem to be grinning because he's having a good time. He's just grinning. He says into the mic, "You guys bored enough for more punishment? Maybe if you're lucky, I'll soon be drunk enough to read my poetry. I used to read my poetry at things like this alla time, but, ya know, times change, things change...but you people don't change, do you? No, people don't change. People are as mean and crude and crass and stupid as they always are..." "Just looking around this room, you could probably find a virgin in here -somewhere-," an evil little grin follows after Ziv's words before she moves away from the group at the doorway. Just in time too, apparently, because right then Cressida starts yelling as she makes her way past Cian and Count. Almost immediately her ears go back and flat, as if trying to shut out the sudden loud sound. In answer, she makes a low and drawn out protesting squeak-slash-shriek. But she doesn't stop. First things first, she grabs her coat and bike helmet from the table and gives a wave to Haruki, before going to order a water from the 'tender. No virgin blood for Frankie tonight, apparently. After a pause, and something C.B. says on stage, Ziv decides to make it two waters. "You start reading poetry, I'm gonna fucking start a fight just to shut that shit down," Teagan volunteers from the bar. Look, it doesn't take much. Just like, an excuse. Especially after five beers. Oh, no, make that six beers. For once, the Darkling smiles, all neat white teeth, and then their expression shifts and slides (if one can see the mien), as if his -- her -- their -- facial expressions don't like to stay fixed at all. A weird reflection. Green gets her answer from Franklyn. She gives one owlish blink, then she takes a slow look around to the others gathered about. Green's face goes decidedly neutral. Wholly unreadable. Or, well, it would. But then she has to flash a tight smile to Cressida. "I did not, love. Another time, I promise," she says. Then she turns to fix her eyes back on the stage. Yes, she hears you, CB Alexander. Green stares for a moment longer, and then she blinks. "Virgin...?" she looks to Count, to Ziv. No, she's not going to comment. She's going to swing her gaze back to Franklyn. She stares at the other woman a long moment, then she just leans forward, and presses a quick kiss to Frank's cheek. "Good night, love," she says, and then she releases Frank's hand, and turns to leave. Itsuki eyes the crowd around the doorway entrance suspiciously, the monochromatic rabbit's fingers lifting to tug the hood on his oversized black hoodie forward, obscuring his already shadowed face. Trying to slip by inconspicuously as he peeks around, looking for his twin in the crowded and far too noisy room. Haruki frowns and eyes the joint-smoking group. He is probably far enough away he only gets the slightest whiff. Focus on the stage. "I like your poetry." He says. Then to Teagan. "If you've a problem with his poetry I'll fight you." He's not at all intimidating. "But I get to choose the weapon, that's how the rules go when you challenge someone to a duel." And is that his brother? Haruki doesn't seem to have noticed Itsuki's presence yet. No. He's too busy focused on Teagan. Poor poor Cian. He almost gets weed, and then he does. But it's followed closely by his name being uttered with something that is not at all the sweetness of the name that preceded it. The joint is passed along, his hit staying as he tip taps on his cell phone a little more before glancing up as the thing comes back around to him once more. Well, unless someone else is going to fucking jump him. By the look on his face as he watches the thing get passed around, he might actually murder them. Pinching the thing, the Darkling puffs a few times and then just kind of slinks away from the group as a whole. No words needed, the attention slips right off of him again for some one or something else. All the better for the sneakthief who's going to stroll over to that corner and smoke alone with Cressida's joint. When Cian separates from that group, Dross's eyes follow him for a while. It sort of is like getting jumped, except without any physical activity; just the disturbing sensation of being watched a little too closely. Whatever caused that tracking stare, though, he looks away again after a while, back at the stage, where C.B. seems to be diving deeper and deeper into the bric-a-brac stuffed attic of his feelings. He watches the writer for a minute, too, then turns to say something quietly into Tristan's ear. "There she is." Count drawls as Franklyn snaps at him, and rather than get defensive, he purses his lips and blows her a couple kisses from a few inches away. "I thought we'd lost you." And Count almost sounds... concerned for Frank, who has clearly simply had too much to drink. Just a little wobbly folks! "You know I got mad love Frankenfritter, don't be like that." As Green starts to head out he calls after her "Green! Imma Call you!" Does he even have her number?! He doesn't remember. And then, AND THEN, Cressida has the AUDACITY to tell Count he cant sing. He looks at her and puts his hand to his chest "Excuse me? I was magnificent, thank you very much." No, he was not. Hey, where's that... he spots Cian slinking off with the joint and frowns "Cress, yer weed vanished, got any more?" nah he wont Rat on Cian, he'll just see if the Star-Lady keeps on giving. "Here. In case you need it," offers up Ziv in something of a chipper fashion, sliding the glass of water down along the bar to Teagan once they've both arrived. She doesn't offer up an explanation of what exactly the glass of water is for, but there is a light tone in the batling's voice that suggests it's if they want to dump it on someone. A winged hand closes around the other glass of water, almost obscuring it in leathery skin as she picks it up. Then, she's headed over back to Franklyn, trying to nudge past the other frames of Count, Cian, and Cressida to press it into the Mortal's hand. Franklyn's brow, it creases with... Discontent. She's looking at Count, about to give him some more What For - then Green leans up, and kisses Franky on her cheek. Huh? The Mortal girl blinks and turns to look down at her little companion, looking dazed on many levels. "Wher-- wha-- oh, right, right; goodnight babe, be safe out there..." She watches hazily for a second -- then Franklyn shivers. And pinches the bridge of her noise. Franky is in pain. But when she looks up? Franklyn has just heard what Teagan has to say. It does not please her. "Hey, fuck /you/ -- what do /you/ even know? Lurking around, I didn't see /you/ contribute jack shit but your ludicrous opinions." Rising tension in her voice, aw yeah -- but Franklyn's attention is caught and... She catches sight of Itsuki entering. Blink, blink. She immediately starts to scan the room, because didn't she already see... "It's not a duel, kid, it's a fucking bar fight. Ain't no Marquis of Faintbottom bullshit." There's a certain exuberance in the idea of getting a bar fight started that comes with a wash of hot Summer air, the crackle like a bug zapper going off on a hot night, and the distant sound of gunfire. I mean, if you can sense all that. Otherwise, Teagan's just smiling like someone who just got offered a big old slice of chocolate cake, seriously good oral sex, and a fifth of bourbon all at once. Their eyes half-lid, and they smile all the more when Ziv slides the water down the bar at them. "Ain't you the sweetest," they drawl lazily. "Fuck you...whoever you are." Okay, C.B.'s words are getting a bit more wobbly, now, as he tries to see who it was (Teagan) who lambasted him for wanting to read his poetry. "I am a published fucking poet. I'm a real writer, ya know. I've won awards and stuff." And more than one person is even sticking up for him! Amazing! But...he's trying to untangle the electric from his body, so he can put it aside and turn off the amp and drink more bourbon. "I think I'm gonna play me some blues first." Yep, he's heading for the piano. Look out, world. Green glances back, to Count. She lifts a hand, then two fingers go to her lips. She does a little two-fingered-kiss salute. Just like Teagan had done. Then she's out into the night without another word. Whatever it is that Dross leans over to whisper into Tristan's ear, it causes him to glance over toward Cian as well, and the constellations within the black of his eyes continue to spin slowly as his head turns in that direction, the only real indication of where he might actually be looking, before he turns his head back toward Dross. Oh, he's still aware of the performances and the comings and goings around them, but his attention seems to have focused more on the conversation at hand. Though he does glance over to watch CB move toward the piano for a moment. "This isn't a bar," Haruki points out. "It's a vegetarian cafe and bakery, collective." Because that matters. And he's maybe getting just a bit antsy. "And it's an open mic night so anyone can perform anything they want. And you shouldn't heckle. Or threaten. You can't bar fight in a vegetarian cafe collective. It's just wrong! You got to use your words not your fists." Ziv is still offering out that glass of water to Franklyn, because for whatever reason that's what you do when someone isn't feeling well. Hydration is important. By now though she's just kind of... staring at all of the (for the most part) larger and louder Changelings, something of a bland expression settling over the Winter Beast's face and her ears continuing to be pressed down to the sides and slightly back. It's entirely possible, afterall, that this night is about to go to hell. And she's usually better at dealing with people who want to drown their sorrows, instead of getting up on stage and screaming them at the world like C.B. is apparently prone to doing. Teagan flips CB off like it's the one thing they've been waiting all night to do. They may not even have wanted to flip CB off all evening, but oh, they've wanted to flip someone off all evening, and it might as well be CB. "Only if you real, real lucky, sweetheart," Teagan answers. "You ain't even seen how I bend." And coming from a Darkling, that means something. "Oh, I'm sorry, are you negging my performance? I call it 'starting a fucking fight because that's fun, copyright Teagan 2017 and all years prior,'" they drawl back at Haruki. There's not even really any malice in any of it. They absently nudge the backpack at their feet, maybe just checking it's still there. "Hey. I'm Teagan. Copyright. Et fucking cetera." Candice? Totally zoned out. For the Lost, her hair seems to be curling together in some places, and some small buds forming along a few of those curls. For normies, maybe all that humidity is putting her hair to frizz and curl! She blinks a few times, coming back from wherever she was and looking around herself in a vaguely frantic manner, relaxing a bit when she sees she's still here, the table's still here, everyone's still here! Except-- her brow furrows, because somehow Count is way over there, and C.B. is on stage drunkenly playing piano, and everything seems to be happening over there, which is just plain old confusing, and there's a Summer throwing out negative vibes, making her look down at her empty pitcher - hey, when did that happen? Looking faintly distressed, she rises with her pitcher to scoot over to the bar, giving as many people as wide a berth as she can manage. If no one stops her, she might even -gasp- move around the counter herself... Though thanks to some automatic, ingrained manners, when Teagan introduces herself, the flowering offers an automatic, "Hello. How do you do." And then blinks a few times. Crap, she was trying to be as subtle as a strange literal flower girl can ever be. Haruki's only slightly taller than Itsuki is, although he's wearing a top hat which puts inches on his height, and makes him much easier to hide behind. The two of the, together, absolutely freaking adorable. Even if Haruki's all filled with fight just now, it's like a baby bunny showing you its teeth. So ridiculously cute. Yeah what 24 year old guy wants to be cute like that. "I'm Haruki. We're magicians." As if the hat didn't make it obvious, or his earlier performance. "And CB's my friend and his poetry is amazing. There's lots of words with meaning." Because yeah, that's poetry. "It's raw." C.B. almost brains himself on the way to the piano, tripping over the bench -- but no, no, he's alright, folks. He's alright. Sorta. Except not really. He might be flipping Teagan off in return? And bellowing something at them that's not really intelligible. So it goes. Cracking his knuckles, he starts in on his next choon. And wouldn't you know, despite his inebriation, he manages to make this one sound okay too! In fact, he's just as decent on the piano as he is on the guitar. Maybe better. All that bourbon has loosened his fingers and roughened his vocal chords. "I was born in a bunk
Mama died and my daddy got drunk
Left me here to die alone
In the middle of Tobacco Road
Grew up in rusty shack
All I had was hangin' on my back
Only you know how I loathe
This place called Tobacco Road..."
Does Cressida have any more weed? HA! Of course she does. However, Count is -- as previously mentioned -- a Very Bad Singer(tm) and possibly unworthy of said weed. She squints at him and looks .. uncertain. "I dooooooo," she drawls out slowly. "But you did bad things tonight and you need to think about what you've done. So." She nods at him as if to say: go to your corner. Who knew that horrible singing would offend her so deeply? Some people are beefing and getting loud but the fallen star is starting to check out. Elementals can be that way -- they can only engage so much before they just need to take a break from the complexities of social interactions. Without a further word to her companions, she wanders away and finds a seat off by herself for a few. Girl will probably throw herself back into the mix after a little bit but y'all are just TOO INTENSE WITH YOUR PASSIONATE DEFENSE OF POETRY. Did someone say open mic Night? Aww, Yiss! This kinda thing is totes Calliope's jam! And so now here she is, outside and dropped off a filthy Jeep Cherokee with a 3-inch lift and a toe winch on the front. IT wheels around the corner and does a California stop as Clio hops out, Sa case in hand and maybe a bit tipsier than anything her size has right to be. The car takes off, speeding up for no reason. On the back window? Family stickers, the kind that dictates how many spouses and children might be involved with any vehicle. Only? They're a family of beer bottles and shot glasses. DAW!! Clio pushes her way inside and takes a deep breath, sucking in and puffing up. Her cheeks are flushed, are is the end of her nose. For those who can see past the thorns, the blush is also luminous and shines brightly like the storms in her Melange colored eyes. She sweeps the room and struts in headed for, "LATCHKEY!" Count and Franky? Totally in her way and she has no problem shouting and making her way past. What? Butts in her way, ample slappings! Sorry CB, for that brief interruption. She coughs and looks up, waving an apologetic long nailed hand towards the Piano Man and then heads over towards Cian. "Fuckin' thanks, man! You know I can't fuckin pass up a good opportunity to blow my own fuckin horn." Getting flipped off herself, or being yelled at? Franklyn could have dealt with that -- but when Teagan just outright /ignores/ her taunts? Aw, hell no. Sorry Ziv - Franky will not be accepting that water, or really paying attention to anyone else -- not the group she's with, not C.B. playing the sorrowful tunes, not Itsuki and Haruki and their double trouble, nothing. All of Franky's attention is on Teagan, and their foot as it kicks absently at that backpack. "Ooohmygod, you're like? /Soo/ amazing? This like, 'brooding spitfire outsider' immersive performance act is like, soo compelling? Did you get a grant from the National Endowment to be such an intolerable fuckhead, or are we lucky?" Mmhmm. Franklyn is gliding on over, looking at Teagan like she's about to give them a real piece of her mind -- in fact? She's swooping down -- reaching for, and grabbing that backpack and stepping back twice, trying to dart away from them as she attempts to get that zipper open "Here, lets start looking through this, yeah? I want to see your Yamaha Young Performing Artists award that you're so /oooobviously/ toting around..." Whelp. Ziv reaches and puts the glass of water on a nearby table. It's a good place for it, really! Then she's turning on a clawed-and-sandaled foot and starting to make her way towards the door, ears still flopped out to the sides. Bit too much excitement for the batling this evening, apparently. She's liable to go find a nice, quiet place and contemplate the meaning of life as a 'human'. Cian was over here, sucking down the delicious THC that he RIGHTFULLY stole! Attentions drifting away from him finally! Except no. Because there's an incoming Swear Bird who calls out his nickname at a volume that causes the Wisp to actually flinch. Fuck, bird! He looks guilty, caught at first unsure of what he's done to deserve this attention, this ire. "Ihaven'teventriedtostabyouyet," he hurriedly whispers at her as she gets close. But it's not about that. It's about the invitation that he'd extended, figuring the musician wouldn't skip the chance. He smiles for her and for lack of any other words or thought, he offers up the smoldering joint he stole from the circle not too far away still. The smoke is making it out the doorway still, no need for the hubbub or anything. "Oh, you're quite welcome," he offers in that muted voice that doesn't filter past the feathered Summer. Okay sneaking in one last puff before putting it back on offer to taloned harpy hands. Oh hell no. Count is pretty damned oblivious, or just ignoring the impromptu shouting match that's suddenly going on. Maybe on purpose, no one stood up for /his/ terrible music! Well, Candice did, because she's great. No, he's just got smacked on the ass by Clio, and then Clio just walked past! No love, no nuffin. Count turns, and rather firmly, returns that smack to the bluebirds butt, with a rather loud /CRACK/ of force, and then folds his arms, looking back to Franklyn... who is not there, and then to Cressida, who is also not there. WHERE THE FUCK DID EVERYONE GO?! Ugh, Denied a free joint, Count pulls one of his own from his pocket. Yeah he was gonna take and not share, but that is now RUINED. So he lights up, leaning in the doorway, and watches. There's fun fight times and then there's deadly serious shit. And it looks like the minute that Franklyn goes for that bag? It goes from 'let's have a fun fight for shits and giggles' to 'someone about to get fucking murdelated by a really angry Summer.' That low-boil heat that's been coming off of them in waves all night becomes a blast furnace, and actual anger rolls off of the Darkling as their hand snakes out and attempts to grab the bag back. Their fingers find air, not the bag itself, and their eyes darken, their teeth bare, neat and white. "Down that road lies only real pain and a fight that is no fun for anyone, child." And right through that Summer air? Comes a sharp chill. Who knows if Franklyn actually feels what just happened, but the flare of glamour off of the Darkling isn't exactly something that people who can see these things miss, so Miss Ensorcelled 2017 can see the flare of power, the wash of fiery heat. If there's anyone else in the room, there is no one that Teagan sees. "Drop it." The machete is the only thing in the bag. It is a well-loved machete, yes, but it's an old machete. A rusty machete. A machete whose handle is stained with blood. The machete of Teagan. Teagan's machete. C.B. is too drunk to care what the rest of you are doing. Being loud? Interrupting him? Whatever, man. Makes you wonder if C.B.'s maybe been an actual Piano Man before, because he's really quite adept at performing to his fullest extent whilst both ignored and inebriated. ...That is, until Shit Starts to Get Real (tm) with Teagan and Franky over there. Then he brings all ten fingers down on the keys in a moment of discordant mayhem. "HEY!" He yells at them both, forcing himself off the stool and wobbling to the end of the stage, hands on hips. Lightning crackles from him in all directions. "Is there a fucking PROBLEM here?! Both of you KNOCK IT THE FUCK OFF! I'M TRYING TO FUCKING SING HERE!" No. Franklyn is not where she was a few moments ago -- instead, she is standing in front of Teagan, tilted to the side as she digs through /their/ backpack which Franky so /rudely/ has =stolen=. What a b-word. Listen to her, she's even laughing as she gets the zipper open a smidge, looks inside, and... "...Ohmygods." Franklyn is stock fucking still, staring down at that backpack, and then... Teagan is saying something to her, but Franklyn... Franklyn is very stubborn, and more than a little drunk, and... Her hand is moving ever so slowly towards the inside of the bag... Franky, they said =drop it=. But she isn't, she's just /staring/. Candice, meanwhile, is now looking around from her spot, awkward. Trying to spot people. There is Count, thankfully obvious and visible, and then there is a bright girl she's only seen a few times, and a shadow next to her-- she squints, brightening when she notices, and then suddenly there is anger and violence and what going on juuuust over there, and Candice hastily backtracks, half-dropping her pitcher on a nearby table while she lifts her skirts a bit and flees right towards Count, to stand just behind him. Flowering are /delicate/ damnit! Itsuki blinks as Haruki's friend(?) has her backpack stolen, the monochromatic rabbit's ears standing on end, pushing his hood down as he leans back against the bar, trying to drag Haruki with him and out of harm's way. "They... they do not seem to be friends." "Franklyn no!" Haruki says as she grabs for the bag. "Give it back!" And okay those waves of anger are scaring him quite a bit and really he'd like to be diving for cover. "You can't take people's things." And CB's shouting and it's just chaos! He steps back and moves away from it all, even if that means bumping into Itsuki. What's in the bag? What's in the bag? No, Haruki's not going to go all 7even and actually check. His curiosity does not exist. He backs away from them all. He doesn't want to know what horrors have Franklyn struck speechless. Calliope takes the stolen weed and sets her sax net to Cian. Why? Because there is a nice leggy piece of glamour over there. A familiar one and oh man it's starting a fight. This is her favorite. She loves fights and so she's turned on her Chuck Taylor heel and started to swagger up to Frankly like the punked little-blue haired wingman she is. The joint hangs in her mouth as she strolls up and rolls her shoulders. And then the threat. Oh, the threat. Do you want Angry Birds? This is how you get Angry Birds. She shoves, gently, but it's still a shove of poor Franky out of the way. You know like people do in movies and no one really believes someone would DO that to a friend. Yeah, she does it. And then she's up, on her tiptoes, in Teague's face, "Hey Bitch, you gotta fuckin' problem. Maybe you oughta fuckin' take it up with someone my own fuckin' size." She sniffs and a sneering smile grows. CB? Ignored. Sorry man. Hey, wasn’t Count /just/ leaning there against the doorframe? Well, now he's not, he's moving, sliding between tables like a serpent through the grass. No, Count cannot sing, but he can move, and he's there... a moment behind Clio, who has enough 'in the face' for everyone. Clio Shoves Franklyn, and Count is just... there, his own joint in his lips, preventing Franklyn from falling under the spell of gravity. It's almost like the Chimera and the Bluebird Choreographed that shit. Count has no bluster, no threats, and he's even smiling just a little... For perhaps the first time this evening, Dross speaks loudly enough for anyone who isn't sitting right next to him to hear. "Keep playing," he calls up to C.B., who's come right up to the edge of the stage in his frustration. There's a look of dark amusement in his eyes. Even with everything going on in the room, it seems that Tristan is paying more attention to Dross than he is to anything else that's happening. Sure, he looks up and over at Franklyn with the bag, and the suddenly moving Count. He feels the anger rolling through the room and notes C.B. shouting from the stage. But it's an amused smile that he turns toward Dross when he encourages C.B. to continue playing, watching to see if the man will return to the keys to give this drama playing out a soundtrack. But the Darkling ain't backing down. Of course they're not. But with a tiny angry bird in their face? At the very least there's a moment where Franklyn is not getting -- whatever it is that Teagan might have done before Calliope hipchecked her friend out of the way. At least there is a moment where the Darkling's lips peel back, and they put their nose right down to Calliope's. "You look in that bag that your friend just decided was their business, bitch, and then you tell me who you think gets to be legit fucking angriest in this room. And then if I ain't got that shit back in my hands in six seconds or less, 'happy fucking fun fight' ain't happening. It's 'shit got real' fight, and that was what we call a fucking warning shot." They aren't bestial. They aren't prowling like lions or stalking like animals. They're looming like Slenderman and lowering their voice and speaking as matter of factly as Christopher Lee telling Peter Jackson that that isn't the sound a man makes when you stab him, he makes no sound at all. "Now give me back my fucking bag, cunt." Rabbits have one primary defense mechanism against danger. Run. And so it is that Itsuki is seen hurriedly dragging Haruki back, towards the exit, and away from the simmering confrontation before it bubbles over and the older twin has to clean bloodstains out of his nice new cape. C.B. /glares/ at Dross before jumping off the stage. Yes, he's going to try and get directly between Calliope and Teagan, spreading his hands and separating them by force if necessary. "ALRIGHT, THE BOTH OF YOU, KNOCK IT THE FUCK OFF OR GET OUT OF OUR FUCKING COLLECTIVE. I'VE GOT NO FUCKING PATIENCE TONIGHT FOR ANY OF THIS. FRANKY, GIVE THEM THE DAMN BAG BACK!" He's screaming at the top of his lungs, electricity sparking in all directions. Haruki's dragged by his brother and instinct kicks in and run rabbit it is. Flee out the door! Away away from the danger and to the relative safety of the great outdoors. Who needs to listen to advice? Not Franklyn! Haruki's rational argument goes totally fucking unheard by Franky - she's just staring and staring and staring and... All that staring Franklyn is doing at /whatever/ is in Teagan's Mysterious Backpack leaves her wide open to being hip-checked by Calliope. Boink! The mischievous Mortal is halfway to a full on pratfall, when Count just swoops on in. What are they, allies or something!? He didn't need to do that! But Franklyn is not really focusing up on Count, besides giving him a weird little dazed look. Franklyn is turning, and she's looking at Teagan -- oh, she wants to be all 'fuck you buddy', and for a glimmering second, but... But... She can't. She's just /can't/, because she's... Pretty fucking out of her league right now, staring at two angry Summer and a screaming Solstice like, like, well, like she was just watching an entire hurricane approach. Mesmerised. Wow. Whole new world. Candice's shoulders slump as Count does the noble thing and approaches the violence-- she has no problem also heading closer to the danger, so long as she keeps Count firmly between her and them. Those flowers in her hair have fully sprouted-- golden laburnums and little white clusters, which those who know about flowers might be curious about-- but hey, who cares about her fashion accessories? Two summers are in each other's face and she's behind a chimera, hiding and pulling out her phone and texting, watching with concern and the occasional worried glance towards the stage. The fleeing twins earn a wistful glance from the flower girl, as she looks behind her to look at the exits herself. CB, gets one claw. Just one, his direction and maybe shockingly it's not the little one. it's the one you hold up when you're -really- about to let loose on someone but you know others are gonna think it's unreasonable. The folks fleeing are given no mind. Franky doesn't get a chance to follow CB's command because it's taken from Franky's hand and in the same breath, the same momentum - the fist balled around the straps of the bag clutched in her hot little talons she swings forward and smashes her fist into Teagan's nose. "Don't fuckin' call people cunts. It's fucking filthy." Clio's not moving, not ducking and weaving. It's almost like she -wants- to fight.. But first she takes the joint out of her mouth. Look Count, free joint! Noble thing, obligatory thing, some-thing. What matters is that Count is there, tho honestly he's just a shape on the outside of the group, just a horned dude, puffing on a joint, watching the shouting and insults with eyes that are half lidded, and a lazy smile etched onto his face. Hell, one of his hands is even behind his back, as if none of this was a real big deal. Those that know Count? Well, they might see something different. Another Joint? Count now has two joints. The evening is getting better. Then Clio is throwing a punch, and shouting those words, and Count mentally makes a note, crossing a word off of the potential 'dirty talk' list. These things are important to learn ahead of time, after all. They take the punch like a goddamned champ. They take the punch like someone who wants to get hit. They take the punch like someone who wants to fucking die. But even as their nose goes crunch -- which is so weird to watch on a Mirrorskin, did Teagan's entire face just go smoooooosh and then straighten itself mostly back out? -- and blood goes everywhere, their hands have one focus, and that's the goddamned bag. Both of their hands snatch around the bag, grabbing it -- and its contents -- from Calliope. With black blood pouring down their mirrored face, they round on Clio, slinging the bag's straps over their shoulders -- never mind that it's not fully closed and there's a machete handle sticking out of it -- and snarl, "Ain't my business if yours is filthy, bitch. Or hers." CB's in the middle of them, and they crow, "We're just havin' a little fuckin' dialectic, son! Get the fuck out the way!" Blood and violence and C.B. in the middle, until he's not, because the two Summers are fighting like madpeople. Yes, they want to fight. And as much as C.B. loves fights, well... "I SAID, FUCKING KNOCK IT OFF!!" GodDAMN, can he be loud. And when he yells, this time, those sensitive to such things in the room will feel the Wyrd tickle as all the lights above the brawling Summers crackle, pop, and fitz out in a highly impressive shower of sparks. It's not enough to turn off the lights in the entire cafe, but definitely enough to get the point across, and to send the area above the brawlers into darkness. Does that get the point across? Well, who the fuck knows, really. Doink! Franklyn's hands release the bag as soon as Calliope tugs on the straps. Expression? Stunned. Clio can /have/ the bag, for all Franky cares -- she's just trying to stand up and... Oh god, why is she going /towards/ the fracas? Because she's literally insane. "No-- no wait, I didn't mean-- I don't want your stupid bag--!" Too fucking late, Ms. Garreau. Is Franky trying to (uselessly) step in between C.B. and Clio and the menacing Slenderman nightmare-person who is Teagan? Yes. Yes she is. But honestly, what does Franky think this this? A waltz? A performance? A fucking game? What is /wrong/ with her? Again: Franklyn is literally deranged. Ugh, now she's got some of Teagan's blood splattered on her face. But before Franklyn can get any closer to try and stop C.B. -- imagine that! Imagine Franklyn, trying to /protect/ C.B., what the fuck is that about?! -- but before she can do any of that... ZIP. The lights are out. ...Okay. So there's a scream. It's from a Mortal girl, in over her head, stumbling in the dark. It's probably delicious. SNAP! Goes someone's cellphone, oh yeah, Cian's recording this. Probably to rub one out to later who knows with the creep. He's also filming for posterity. Don't hate! He's a Millennial and he doesn't give a shit. Especially because the spotlight is not on him! It's on his Cousin being a whitehat and Clio punching Teagan in the face. He quietly cheers this all on by not stopping it. Whelp. Okay. Candice looks over towards the stage, half wistfully, half-sighing. Those closest might hear, "Usually things are much less physical on the movie open mic nights." muttered, before the flowering drifts away from the scene. It's the perfect time to escape! When the lights shatter over the group clustered around Teagan and Franklyn, Dross glances at his companion out of the corner of his eyes, then stands up for a better view of what's happening. He appears to be considering something. Overhead, Yossarian moves to the corner of his observation post, too. Calliope snorts and a sneer smirk land on her feature again. "Filthy ass ho." But she's laughing and her hands go up when CB interviews. "Hey, fuckin hey. I don't step on your dick do fuckin' I?" She asks of CB with a sniff and looks around him, "Wanna fuckin beer?" She asks Teagan before eyeing CB again, once up and down, poking her pinky into an ear and wiggling it lightly giving him a -sour- face. "Man what a fuckin Buzzkillington." She leans in real close to CB. Oh, she's not afraid of a little light flicker or even the potential for a nice Zotch. "Chill.." A minuscule ladder of lightning arches along her lip ring. Is she mocking him? For all their anger -- real and bright and echoing around them in radio static and heat and the distant sound of gunfire -- and the blood still dripping black from their broken nose, when Clio declaims herself (or maybe Franklyn, the fuckbird didn't specify) as a filthy ass ho, Teagan's teeth flash briefly, and they answer easily enough, "Hey, if you an ass ho ain't nobody's business but yours, nobody needs it explained out in public. No matter how filthy you are." But the anger isn't malice, it's a good-natured anger now, and not an 'I'm going to murder you directly in the face' anger. "For fuckin' serious, stepdick," Teagan grunts, suddenly in agreement with Clio. HEY dude what the ASSBUTT. "Now you gotta replace your lights. But, uh, yer dick real big, man." Their attention slides back to Calliope, and their chin tips up. "Fuck yeah. I need at least three goddamned beers." And just in case the message wasn't got, they point at Franklyn. "Touch my goddamned bag again, it's an actual fuckin' problem." In case, you know, Franklyn wanted a bloody rusty machete. "Beers." And so it is declared. With all the people just getting closer and closer together, like there was this miniature black hole pulling them all in, Count ends up a bit outside the chaos, putting one of the joints out on his tongue and then tucking it behind his ear, he continues on the one he has left. And then Franky is leaping in to get involved.. and the look on Count's face could chill a volcano. Count is just... fucking done. he closes his eyes around the time there is a crash, and darkness, and screaming, and he continues to nurse the joint until it's dead, and then crushes it under his boot. Lifting his chin, he looks up at the ceiling, as if staring at god and going 'See, see the shit I deal with?!' But since Frank seems to be in no immediate danger, he remains where he is... "YOU chill!" C.B. exclaims, glaring at Calliope. But, you know, as hair-trigger as he can be, he's not actually a Summer. Just angry, and drunk, and desperate to get them to stop fighting. "Oh, fuck you both!" he yells in Teagan's direction, extending that to Calliope. And then, he goes to see what's up with Franky. Frowning. Hands on hips. "It's just a few lights. Relax." Glare. Glare. "You alright?" To the rest of the room, he yells: "Open mic night is fucking over! I don't care if you keep hanging out, but if you want to brawl, take it the fuck outside." Granted, there's probably just a few malingerers left at this point, and very few staff. He's mostly holding down the fort here. One rule of Cat-22: no one calls the cops. Not unless they're =really= desperate. | |
