Participants:
| Scene Title | BAM! Bitch Goes Down |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Two acquaintances bump into each other at a club, one attempts to bump the other, and gets bumped instead. |
| Date | January 29, 2011 |
Club IDEFK
It's a club in New York City. It's not glitzy, but it's not a total shithole either. There's thumping bass, a bar, and a dance floor. This is all you need to know.
It's Saturday night, and the club is jumping.
Well, as much as a club in New York City is jumping these days, what with martial law and curfew to contend with. It's crowded enough for Nicole Nichols' tastes. She's dressed in a short and slinky black dress that rides up so high it's a wonder she doesn't flash the dance floor as she moves in rhythm with the bass, one arm wrapped around another woman's slender waist. The pretty blonde thing, a little shorter than Nicole and built a little sturdier has one leg between Nicole's thighs and there's some grinding involved. And tossing of hair, which has had its highlights freshened up finally. Chunky, vibrant streaks of electric blue cutting through dark chocolate.
It's as Fuck the Pain Away is transitioning into the next song that Nicole and her dance partner are making their way toward the bar for a round of shots and to make-out. What would her lover say? What would her fiancé do? It's a good thing neither man is here tonight to witness this spectacle. For entirely different reasons.
He's never really been into the club scene. Nor is he the kind of guy that sits at home watching the game. Dirk is more of a lounge lizard, the kind of man that enjoys a quiet place with maybe a piano and a singer. The view from here is good though, and a sliver of white teeth shows itself as the man narrows his eyes, sly like a fox as she slinks through the crowd behind Miss Nichols and her catch of the night.
He didn't even know it was fishing season.
While they stand, waiting for the bartender's attention, he simply slides up behind the blonde and physically tosses her out of the way. He's not a fighter by nature, but he knows how to throw someone off balance. The combination of slipping an ice cube into the back of her skirt and tugging on one of her elbows has the blonde careening for the floor and Dirk taking her place at Nicole's side.
"Oops, my bad~" he sings lowly while offering the downed woman a hand. "Why don't you go freshen up while I keep your lady friend company. No touchie, I promise." Then his attention is turned to the brunette as the blonde is summarily dismissed from his presence. "Miss Nichols, I would have never expected you here."
Heeeeeey. Nicole's blonde suddenly got way more masculine. And— Oh, wait. That's, "Dirk?" Blue eyes blink blearily, the round of drinks she was headed for is not her first round of the night, obviously. "The fuck're you doing here?"
The shorter blonde woman pulls herself back to her feet with Dirk's help and flashes Nicole a look, and decides she's not worth it. She'll go freshen up, but she'll be seeking another dance partner.
"What the fuck?" Nicole demands, hands out to either side with a rather put-out expression. "I don't stop you when you're trying to get some pussy!" Not that she's ever had the opportunity, but she hasn't stopped him before, so technically her statement is true.
"That's mostly because if I was trying, you wouldn't be around." That is to say, Nicole wouldn't frequent the places that Dirk trolls. And he's not expanding on that. The tumbler is shaken and lifted to his lips as a chip slips into his mouth only to be crunched into oblivion. Seems Mister Dirk (whateverhislastnameis) isn't really drinking tonight. "Now the question is, why are you here instead of with Brad?"
His sharp eyes drift over her form and one hand slips behind her as his fingers grip the back of the tall stool on her other side, effectively trapping her into conversation with him without being too forward. "Please don't tell me you're as self destructive as he is— I thought I found someone put together instead of— " He waves his glass around in a circle in front of him, loosening the cubes inside. "So what's the dilly-oh, Mammasita? What's got your panties in a knot?" Pause. "And please don't give me the tired line of mind my own business… because all of this?" He gestures to the club around him. "This is my business tonight. You just happen to be a part of it."
Irritation melts away quickly, when it probably should have flared up again when he reached out to block her possibility of escape. "I'm not self-destructive," Nicole assures, somehow managing to enunciate her words and slur them at the same time. "I'm here because it's fun, and it's overdue, and Brad can't be here because there is booze, and there are drugs, and he doesn't seem to know the meaning of moderation so I had to leave his ass home tonight." Not that Bradley Russo necessarily knows that his fiancé is out lezzing it up at a nightclub tonight at all.
"Tell you what," the inebriated woman muses, tracing a finger over the fabric of Dirk's collar lazily, almost absently. "If you'll buy me a drink, and make it look like you're interested in me, I'll tell you all about it." A pouty smirk plays over her lips, and a bat of lashes laden heavily with blue mascara sweetens the request.
The expression of distaste is masked slightly by a turn of the head as Dirk pretends to see someone he knows and raises his glass. He doesn't move away though, granting Nicole the one request of looking like he's interested in her. Slender fingers splay across her lower back, somewhat possessively, as he leans ever so slightly toward her. It's a perfect way to let her tell him a deep dark secret. Also, makes him look like a hot guy with a tall, dark, drink of water beside him. Oh yeah… bitches are jealous, he knows it.
Placing the tumbler on the bar, he motions for two more without asking Nicole what she wants, assuming that one of them is for her. Which it is. "Okay, drink is on its way and I have my hand on you… close to your rear without being grabby. What's the sitch?"
"You've done this before," Nicole teases when Dirk's hand finds her back, a slow grin spreading across her face, then biting her lip coyly. "You can get grabby if you want to." After all, she's moving the arm obscured by the lines of their bodies and the overhang of the bar so she can place her palm flat against the man's stomach, with the obvious intention of sliding her fingers past the waistband of his pants. She doesn't. Yet.
Her dark eyes - not the glowing blue he saw before - watch Dirk's face with some interest. "My boyfriend - not the one I'm engaged to — but maybe him, too, while I'm thinking of it - is a jerk and I wanna forget about him. I wanna fuck somebody else for a change. I wanna fuck somebody better." That's a lot of contempt in Nicole's expression, but it's too diluted by liquor to be taken too seriously. "Maybe I won't care about the asshole so fucking much if I can just find someone else who'll—" Dooooown goes that hand, and up goes a brow.
Dooooown goes an ice cube in the wrong direction and causes the blond man to choke and sputter, spilling his new drink all over some huge bruiser on his other side. He turns just in time to see the giant wind back a fist and what comes next might change Nicole's mind about her choice of men. The shrill girlscream that fills the air is Nicole's only warning before Dirk ducks and that fist is heading in the direction of her beautiful nose.
So much for action in Dirk's pants.
Then again, there's no guarantee that he'd actually be better than the two men she's talking about.
He might even be worse.
But he'll never admit it.
Crawling out from under the line of stool, Dirk's cries for momma and god are pretty much drowned out by the pounding music. He doesn't mind getting between a girl and a girl but when it comes to another man on the scene? Dirk is out of there.
Time seems to move in slow motion as Dirk goes ducking down, and she tracks his movements, then pulls her gaze back up to find out what he's avoiding, and she sees the fist come sailing at her.
Oh, shit.
Time decides to resume its normal speed when knuckles connect with the bridge of her nose. Nicole goes tumbling off the stool she was half-occupying and hits the floor with a sound that's nothing compared to the bass making the ground beneath her rumble. A glance immediately reveals that there's blood and Nicole tries to sit up, but finds the world spinning too quickly for her tastes. Too quickly for her equilibrium.
Scrambling to a stand somewhere across the room, from the safety of a few bodies in between himself at the guy throwing punches, Dirk finally chances a glance at where he left the lovely Miss Nichols. Oh.. shit.. Seeing her on the floor and bleeding prompts the blond assistant to make a hasty exit, that is until he remembers who might be taking the revenge. Russo did damage before. What would he do if Dirk left?
Four words… Cannon Fists of DOOM.
It's something the blond doesn't want to even think about right now, so he slinks back to the woman's side and crouches, placing a hand on her shoulder. The fear of her glowing eyeballs doesn't even enter his mind when he asks gently. "How about we get you to a hospital huh?"
Nicole tries to focus on Dirk's face when it swims into her periphery. "I can't breathe," comes out with soft D sounds in place of the Ts and THs. She rolls over onto her side reaches up to clear her nose with a soft strangled cry. Oh God that hurts I shouldn't have touched it!
"I think I'm gonna puke."
"Ssshh ssshhhhh… Let's get to a place you can get that fixed." Dirk is actually being fairly sweet right now, perhaps in fear of what Russo will do when he finds out. The nicer he is now, the less the beating will be later. Not his fault. Nicole didn't duck.
Wrapping his arm around the thin woman, he escorts her toward the entrance, his free hand is busily dialing for a car. Not a cab. "Yeah, pick me up at the club… I need to go to the hospital. There was an accident." There's a pause as the female voice on the other end shrieks frantically, causing Dirk to wince and hold the device away from his head. "Don't worry, I didn't get hurt… It was Nicole." Silence. A full minute of silence before the tirade begins again.
Kristen's not a happy woman.
Flipping his phone closed, Dirk slips it into his pocket and palms the Blackberry. One thumb works over the keys as he shuffles with the woman outside. Text sent, not completely to instruction but he'll deal with that later. What was sent is something a little closer to the truth. «kicked ass in a bar fight. face messed up. you should see the other guy.»
The other guy is currently being ushered out the back door by a couple of bouncers who are not treating him very nicely but que sera sera, right? "Okay, so K is going to be here in a little while… She'll take you to the hospital. I'm uhm… Not going to go because uhm.. Just in case." In case of murderous fiancés.
Nicole carefully tucks the BlackBerry back into the pocket sewn into her skirt especially for it. "It's not your fault that gorilla overreacted and tried to pound you," she assures Dirk with a squeeze to the forearm she's holding onto. She sighs heavily. "The universe does not want me to get laid. Or probably be happy. I—" Her eyes shut tightly. Stopped just short.
I want Brad.