Participants:
| Scene Title | All the Arrangements |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Perry finds Melissa in a state miserable, and soon finds himself bound for a state distant. |
| Date | January 3, 2010 |
"Abandon hope all ye who enter here."
That is the sign that rests just above the double doors that lead from the small foyer into the club proper. Once through the doors the music is all-encompassing, the heavy bass beat filling the room and senses of the club-goers. The decor is all dark, the walls painted black, the bar a sleek dark wood. The lights all have a reddish tinge to them, with the bar and DJ booth being the only places in the club proper that have more normal white light.
There are high tables with equally tall chairs circling a large dance floor, and booths set along two of the walls. But while socializing is a big part of the club, the dancing is the priority. People, some Goths, some punks, and some just people who like to dance are all packed on the dance floor. Weaving through the sea of people are servers, men and women both, dressed in black pants or skirts, and tee-shirts that have "Tartarus" written across the chest in red lettering. Likewise there are security people at the door and mixed through the club, in similar outfits, only their shirts have "SECURITY" on the back.
It's afternoon, which means that the club is fairly empty. It's not quiet by any means, not with the music playing, but neither is it completely filled with the sounds of a normal night at the club. With it being so slow, it's given Melissa a chance to catch up on one of her current favorite pasttimes. Seeing how drunk she can get while still functioning. And right now she's up to drink number 4, and it's barely three in the afternoon.
Though he tries to be discreet, Perry's loping, unfashionable form cuts a somewhat conspicuous course through the doors of the club. Dressed in his big winter jacket, a t-shirt underneath with the glum pronouncement 'No Exit' in block letters, the bespectacled man weaves over to the bar, spotting his compatriot and the glass in her hand. His brow furrows slighly as he picks his way to the stool next to her, giving her smile tempered with his consistant nervous awkwardness.
"I- uh- can't say I know how to approach a woman at a bar, m- uh- much less a bar she owns," Perry says, by way of greeting, "I can't- can't exactly offer to buy you a drink."
"Well you're in luck. I don't own Tartarus, I just manage it so the owner can sit back and roll in the dough without putting in any effort," Melissa says dryly, shrugging and lifting her drink to sip at it. "Besides, something tells me that you didn't actually come here to pick up chicks. You don't seem like the type. Goth club and all," she says, eyeing his glasses then the rest of his clothing.
"The labor- uh- being yours," Perry says, dipping his head, "I think I regard you as- uh- the rightful owner." Or he thinks. Is that a socialist notion he's approaching? Hard to keep those lines clear. "And I- uh- I suppose not. I'm not exactly the p- pick up kind of guy, no." Or the 'getting chicks at all' kind of guy, really. "Though I did come here to see you."
"Well, the owner, the law and the IRS would disagree," Melissa says, shrugging again. "But what's up? We got another impending disaster on the way? Because if so, I'm sitting this one out. I'm seriously considering a trip to Hawaii for a week to just get the fuck away from this goddamned city."
"Ah yes, the law. Something we have so much respect for," Perry comments, with a wry smirk and lack of stammer that are both uncommon. But Melissa doesn't seem in the mood for jokes. "No. No disaster, at least none that I'm- uh- aware of. I guess I- uh- basically came by to say… hello?" If that's okay. "Hawaii is likely very- uh- very nice. And still counts as, uh, domestic travel, so it's fairly safe."
"Not really too concerned with safe. I just need to get away, and I've never been anywhere tropical, and what better time to go than when it's cold here. Like when I went to Vegas last year during that godawful blizzard," Melissa explains, draining her glass and signaling for a refill. "And I should apologize. I was gonna be going on TV to talk about the evils of Humanis First, but I'm backing out. And no, I won't go into details since it won't happen. I'll figure out another way to show the world how evil they are."
Perry, luckily, never had a chance to get his hopes up with regards to a television appearance, so his disappointment is limited. He still looks momentarily confused, but Melissa makes it very clear the topic is off limits, and while he's persistant and socially awkward, he's not rude. "They make themselves look evil well enough," he says, nodding, "and I- I have some plans. But maybe," he glances to Melissa's now-empty drink. He doesn't know it's her fourth, but he can tell it's not her first.
"Maybe we- uh- can discuss that another time. I- uh- I obviously am concerned with safe. Your safety. You- I don't know that we could suffer your loss, Melissa. I don't know if I could. You're the one I've known longest. The one I feel most trust for, through experience." Perry removes his glasses, blinking a bit, using the hem of his t-shirt to clean them, made a little nervous by his 'confession'. "But- uh- well, if you need to get away… would you- uh- need to do it alone?"
"I think the group would get along just fine without me," Melissa says, and a deaf person could hear the bitterness in her voice. His last question has her peering at him curiously for a long moment. "Well I'll have to take Junie, so won't really be alone anyway. Why? You pondering a trip to Hawaii?"
Perry's eyes divert as soon as Mel begins to peer. Oh, he's not good at this. He fidgets with his glasses, unaided eyes giving the club's main space a fuzzy, indistinct exploration. "Uh- well, if you are…" he says, daring a quick look back at her - she's close enough that he can make out her features, unaided, and that very distinctness makes him look away again, "we can't- I mean- I don't think-" he pauses, clearing his throat, forcing himself to look at her, "I'd worry. And- well, you are the person who first- uh- suggested to me the value of taking time… off."
"Yeah, well, I'm only seriously considering it now because someone wants it as their Christmas present. Me taking time off, I mean. Should probably take him, but I'm sort of sick of men." What does that make Perry!? Melissa shrugs and leans back against the bar. "If you wanna come, you can. Fine by me."
Really?
Did she just- really? Perry slips his glasses back on, to make absolutely sure that she's not got some sarcastic expression on, one that would betray her agreement as a joke. He finds no such thing so, unless he missed it… "We need to lie low for a little anyways, with Griffin being hunted and with this Heller on the prowl. Time away… time away is wise. I'll need to tell the others, let them know when we'll return but… yes. I'd like to. Very much."
"Then plan for leaving sometime next week. Got a few things to take care of before I leave," Melissa says, picking up her fresh glass and sipping at it.
"That- uh- that should be fine," Perry says, though he can barely figure that this has gone from offer to reality so quickly, "I have things- uh- things of my own as well." Not much, really. Just informing their fellows. "Thank you. I- uh- I very much appreciate it," he smiles, awkwardly as ever, "I consider this part of my- uh- ongoing education in recreation."
"No you don't. You wish I'd said no so you had a reason not to go," Melissa says without any trace of hesitation. She seems positive about what she just said. "But I'll let you know. I'd say bring a bathing suit, but I think you might just blind half the people on the beach if you even go to the beach."
Implication of dishonesty is combined with insult in a double assault on Perry that leaves him totally taken aback. His mouth works, then tightens into a line. A scowl shivers across his brow as his muddy brown eyes fix on Melissa, hard. "I will not ever lie to you," he says, with a vehemence that is hard to deny, and one that carries with it a weight of conviction that is catching, "I want to go with you. And… and you've seen me on the beach before. And… and you will again." Defiant now!
"So I have. I'd forgotten," Melissa says, sounding entire unapologetic. She certainly has been in bitch mode for a few weeks now. "Anyway. Start packing. I'll make all the arrangements."