Drop It Like It's Hot


cassandra_icon.gif cesar_icon.gif chess_icon.gif delilah_icon.gif elaine_icon.gif eve2_icon.gif monica2_icon.gif squeaks_icon.gif

Scene Title Drop It Like It's Hot
Synopsis A kooky seer throws a kooky party. This party is filled with green.
Date March 17, 2018

Cats Cradle

The room is large, a mid sized stage with tattered curtains hanging around it and two spotlights that face it. There were a number of mismatched theatre seats arranged in a half circle facing the stage, a long dark purple rug running through the middle of them. A chandelier that is sometimes on and only lights up halfway hangs in the center of the room. Even when music is not being performed people congregate around the stage, drinking or smoking. A 420 Friendly sign hangs near a mirror hung up behind the bar.

The bar area has a few mismatched chairs and boxes for chairs. A lone armchair is placed near the bar, the owner usually occupies it when she is in. The bar is a bunch of wood and steel welded together and repurposed as a bar, there is a black glass that is fitted around the middle of often smear from people’s knees and boot heels. A really old television set with a VHS player sits behind the bar propped up on a stand. The bar is as well stocked as you can get nowadays, there’s even an exotic alcohol or two rumored to be under the bar. A modest grill stands in the corner right next to the bar, nothing fancy just greasy food.

In the corner of the room near the stage and it’s green room door is another door that is usually locked.

The night was young and so were a bunch of the people on the stage of Cat’s Cradle, singing not an Irish tune but the old. ‘Take me out to the ballgame’… what? The trio of college kids clearly guys who come here often they bump into one another and slosh their beer around onto the stage. The spotlight a bright orange illuminating them. One of them has real white teeth. Even after all these years of war, destruction and the almost collapse of society altogether.. Frat Boys still exist. Lord.

The bar/venue is decked out in all green. There are dark green curtains hung on the lit up stage. The primary lightning is green. There are green Christmas lights running along in zigzags above people’s heads.

The theme is green and you better had gotten the memo.

As the Frat Boys eventually end their song and dance and are slow clapped off the stage, the sounds of an old Irish song remixed on a dance beat plays. The drinks are flowing and their are even snacks, a man with a bun cooking on the grill.

Eve is nowhere in sight.

Elaine got the memo. Dressed in a ruffled ankle-length green skirt, she’s paired it with a black long-sleeved shirt that fits snugly to her chest. Touched with a little bit of emerald jewelry and a pair of classic black heels, she looks like she fits the part. Unsure if she dressed too classy for the party, she considers taking her jewelry off before she moves to the bar.

“A cider. Pear or pineapple if you have it, otherwise just cider is fine.”

When her drink arrives she sips slowly, taking a seat at the bar as she casually glances around the room to take in the patrons. People watching. Looking for familiar faces. Finding none, she glances at the bar and just waits. Something will happen. Something always happens.

Getting out in the public is always a good thing. Connect with the community, be a good face for SESA, and let them know you're not the bad guy. Or, in Cassie’s case, dress up in your civvies, leave your badge at home, and head for the one somewhat interesting looking place in the safe zone that seems to be having a party. No, she's not Irish, but on St. Patrick’s day, everyone has little Irish in them, so she figured why not go out and have a little fun with it? Takes the mind off of the massive food shortages, too.

Pushing her way into the bar, Cassandra looks around. Dressed in a lovely green peasant dress with white stitching, her hands covered in lint cotton gloves, her feet covered in boots that disappear beneath the hem of her dress. She’s playing the role of someone who doesn't want to be pinched. A bag is sling across her shoulders and contains all the things a girl on the town needs, including her flask, several odd objects which might come into play later, her gun, and her wallet.

It's important to be safe in New York.

She makes her way to the bar and orders two drinks - whisky, neat, on the rocks, and a lemon-lime soda with a twist of lemon to keep from getting too out of sorts right out of the gate. Elaine, seeming to be in the same predicament she is, gets a small wave and a lift of her glass. “Slaìnte.”

The doors to the Cat's Cradle swing open with a peal of laughter. Cesar, already tipsy from the day's drinking ventures, leans comically on his friend Monica as they stagger into the venue. He's not completely soggy with the alcohol yet, no. But there's been some adventures in hitting up St. Paddy's celebrations from Yamagato Park all the way to Phoenix Heights for the pair. The man's got a black shirt on but with green stripes down the length of the sleeves to be in line with the theme. And because black doesn't show stains.

"Can you believe that guy though?" He's mid-conversation with the woman. "Esta cabrón, he was downing 'em como una esponja. Hate to see his tab at the end of the night!" Because damn it's going to be Total: Regret and No Cents. Given that it's Eve's joint, he steps in with a sweeping gaze looking for the seer. Not seeing her doesn't raise any concerns just yet; it'll just be sad if she doesn't make an appearance at some point.

Monica is also feeling the day a little, enough that there's an easy smile on her face and a sway in her steps. But that might also be from holding up Cesar as they come swinging in. She got the memo— she is wearing green, although only a bit of it here and there. Enough to avoid someone pinching her and her knocking them the fuck out. It's supposed to be a fun day out, after all.

"It'll be a toss up what regrets today more, his head or his wallet." Monica doesn't look for the seer. It's been a while since they last saw each other, but she remembers enough to know that Eve will see you before you see her. She leads them over to the bar instead and ends up leaning on it a little heavily. "Whiskey neat," she says and then gestures up to Cesar, "and whatever he wants. It's his turn to pay." The bartender needed to know that. It's very important information.

Her left hand might look a little strange to anyone paying attention. Most of her arm is covered by a black athletic sleeve, but the cybernetic hand is quite visible.

It’s not long after Monica and Cesar arrive that Chess steps through the door. She didn’t get the memo and she wasn’t even invited — to be invited, Eve would need to know where to — well, she is a seer. But still, Chess hasn’t reunited with the precog so this is what we call serendipity, folks. Except Eve’s not here, so as far as Chess is concerned, it’s just a bar. Her lack of green suggests it’s just another day to her as well.

She begins to head to the bar proper, but Cesar’s familiar form makes her pause, and she looks like she might just turn around and leave again…before she sees Monica. So she stands a little stupidly in the entrance way, one hand on the door — almost literally one foot in and one foot out.

With the door opening and closing, the entering and exiting of patrons, another body joins the hodgepodge of drinkers and partiers. On the smaller side, a good several years too young to participate in the activities one normally does in a bar, but maybe overlooked at first in the cacophony and drunkenness. It’s Patty’s Day, after all. And someone of small stature and red hair could be a leprechaun come to visit and cause mischief.

Except this one isn’t dressed in a green coat and knickerbockers, and there’s no boulder hat upon the head. This one is dressed some baggy overalls, worn at the knees and rolled at the cuffs, and a denim jacket, a size too large. This possible leprechaun didn’t get a memo about wearing green, apparently, because Squeaks isn’t a leprechaun. Unfortunately.

Squeaks stops just a couple of steps inside the bar and stares for a solid second. It could be anticipation of being shooed out, but one second seems long enough. When nothing immediately happens - no alarms go off and no one’s yelling - the kid ventures further inside with the confidence of belonging. After all, if you act like you’re supposed to be there, generally no one questions you being there. Right? Right!

Familiar faces for Elaine? Coming right up. Wherever Delilah had been a moment before wasn't where the other redhead looked, so now it's a surprise when she comes rolling on up on Elaine's blind side to drop her palms over the other woman's eyes. Dee's cascade of red hair is pulled back partially in a long ribbon, green satin dress simple and playful with its large bow at the hip. Flat shoes don’t give her away with any unwanted clicks as she makes the drop on Elaine.

"Hey, hey! Guess who?!" From the sound of it, Delilah has been here for a little bit already, her words too bright and way too interjectory.

Sláinte agad-sa.” Elaine replies, her accent sounding perfectly Irish as she does. She raises her mug of cider up towards Cassandra, then takes a sip. “So you look like you’re waiting for—” And that’s about as far as the leggy redhead gets before suddenly she’s got hands over her eyes. It’s hard to tell immediately who it is. But Elaine can think of a few people it’s not. A few people she might have wished would try, but still are definitely not. So she shrugs it off and chuckles.

“I’m going to guess someone pretty and dressed far nicer than I!” Just like that, the Irish accent’s gone.

Cassandra giggles and leans over to look at the woman behind, taking a sip of her whisky, her cheeks reddening as it burns its way down to her belly. “I don't know…I'd say you're both dressed quite lovely for the evening’s entertainment. And fair warning, I've just expended the entirety of my Irish vocabulary.” She switches to her soda, chasing the whisky burn for a second, thoughtful.

“I'm not really waiting for much of anything. Just wanting to see what goes on on Cat’s Cradle. Hoping to meet new friends, considering I'm new to the zone.” Cassandra says all of this with a playful smirk. “There is a marked absence of string and knots, but there seems to be a lot of merriment. One point for, one against. I'm guessing…..”. She indicates Delilah and her green dress. “Close friends?”

That might have been one of the adventures of their day so far for Cesar and Monica. Some dumbass deciding she wasn't wearing enough green. Cesar didn't even lift a finger - didn't get to lift a finger - except he did then. As he does now, to order. "You got Guinness? None of that green beer shit that's just watered down Budweiser and dye, alright?" He's serious here, if he's told he's got to be Irish, he's going to be Irish. How many has he had today, it's yet to be determined. He levels a crooked smile at Monica next. "Is it my turn? I guess it is." His hand slides into his pocket to pull out his billfold, slipping out a few bills and laying them on the bar top.

While he waits for the drinks to be served, Cesar turns so his back's to the bartender and he can glance around the room again, door first since it's kind of a habit. That's when he spots Chess, and the agent straightens in his lean. "Oh, hold up now," he mutters under his breath. After a second, he raises a wry smile and lifts a hand to gesture Chess in. Daring her, in a way, to join the fun at the bar.

"Of course they have Guinness," Monica says with a laugh that's a little too loud. Because she's a little tipsy.But an apologetic look goes to the bartender, because Cesar is so embarrassing. It might not be his turn, really. But Monica is certain it is. It'll even out by the end of the night.

When he turns, she glances over her shoulder at him and when he mutters, she turns more fully to follow his gaze. It takes her a moment, scanning people, aiming herself in the right direction, but she spots Chess and a smile pops up on her face. "Chess!" She might not notice that Cesar is waving her over, because she also waves her over. "Oh my god," she says, her hand moving to Cesar's shoulder, "that's my friend from the war." And then she pushes off him, because waiting for Chess to decide to get over here and have a drink is too much waiting, and comes over to get her and bring her over there herself. "I haven't seen you in years. You look good!" Which is something, as everytime Monica saw her, it was to patch her up.

The wave from Cesar is met with a raise of brow, Chess looking skeptical at the man she yelled at the other day and the one she’s still pretty sure is a “fed.” Something she’s definitely trying to avoid right about now, given the fact she illegally used her power and killed a few people in the past week. She takes a step back just as Monica’s suddenly calling her name and rushing her way.

“You too,” she manages to respond to Monica. “Luther’s around too. He’s not in great shape but he’ll be fine.” She makes a face, before nodding to the bar. “I think I’ll pass. I yelled at your friend the other day, so he might not want my company. It was good to see you though.” Her fingers curl around the strap of the messenger bag, and she glance to Cesar, then back to the door.

Pausing at a table not far from the door, Squeaks takes the time to really size up the establishment. More than enough drinking is going on. People are well on their way to being blitzed. As she surveys the room, she helps herself to the small tray of bar snacks left on the table. Mostly by stuffing a couple of handfuls into one of her jacket pockets. Chess and Monica are regarded with caution, when they’re found to be not too far away.

The little tray is snatched from the table as the kid traces out a path the two women may have come from. If she followed, it would take her to the bar. Eventually.

With snacks in hand, Squeaks meanders from the table. She allows herself to take a leisurely path, to a table closer to the bar. Closer to the myriad of conversation. Somewhere along the way, she gathers a second tray of snacks, half of which fills her other jacket pocket.

"Only if I want to toot my own horn." Delilah lowers her hands from Elaine's face and turns her around, quickly depositing a peck onto her cheek. It's a very practiced sort of ambush. Cassandra's words earn a broad smile, all red lipstick and scrunched nose as Delilah turns to her, one arm snaked around Elaine's shoulders in a half-hug. She's laid a claim, it will be hard getting away again.

"Ohh, we go all kinds of back, don't we? Walter was asking about you the other day, by the way… something about wanting to make a decoder ring…" Delilah clearly has no idea where that came from, judging by the puzzled shrug that comes with it.

The lights in the place all cut out at the same time. The crowd groans because they briefly believe that it's an unscheduled blackout. The candles in the place casting a very low light in the place. How cruel! But there is only a few moments of darkness before that spotlight lights the stage up again, this time in a deep green color.

At first I was afraid, I was petrifie-

There's a bit of commotion heard from the speakers and Chess is nearly pushed over as a dark figure barrels through a door. A bag swinging and hitting her in the thigh. The figure doesn't stop but there's a whisper, “Come in here Boomer!”

The figure slinks through the corners of the room cradling a mic, bumping into Monica and Cesar before dashing into the green room by the stage. Over the speakers through the mic the crowd can hear, “Where have you been?! My god I was about to do your intro!”

A rustling and thud, perhaps a coat and bag falling to the crowd? Eve’s voice rings out in a whisper picked up by the audio equipment, “I know I know! I had to see a friend! The wolf, it's fine. Don't worry! Did.. did you roll em?”

A beat. “Yes a hundred.”

There's a squeal of excitement and then the curtain is drawn back to reveal Eve Mas dressed in a deep sea blue dress and her hair a mess. She had just returned from her trip up to Maine to see Gabriel. There was no time for changing!

A few cheers ring out as the crazy lady takes a tiny bow with a wink. “Ahem,” she speaks into the mic and pauses, there's something hidden behind her back. That grin she's wearing is the one that anyone that knows her.. knows that she's up to no good. Or well it's always just a little fun. The seer strikes a pose and closes her eyes.

At first I was afraid, I was petrified

Kept thinking I could never live without you by my side

But then I spent so many nights thinking how you did me wrong

And I grew strong

Her raspy voice echoing through the speakers, she's in the moment. She always is with music. It's her special center. Gray eyes snap open and she hangs out a big plastic bag of joints. There’s an roar from the crowd. Stomping, hooting, hollering, a woman can be heard screaming in the crowd, “Yas bitch!!” the seer gives the woman a wide grin and drops the bag to the ground to bend and rip it open with one pale hand. Taking a fistful she snaps to attention and starts to sing, while running across the stage throwing the paraphernalia out to the crowd.

= And I learned how to get along

And so you're back

From outer space

I just walked in to find you here with that sad look upon your face

I should have changed that stupid lock, I should have made you leave your key

If I'd known for just one second you'd be back to bother me

Go on now, go, walk out the door

Just turn around now

'Cause you're not welcome anymore

Weren't you the one who tried to hurt me with goodbye

Do you think I'd crumble

Did you think I'd lay down and die?

There's a pause as she takes more joints and lighters out of the bag and holds the mic out screaming, “You know the words!!” And she shimmies the music blasting out of the speakers as the crowd joins her in the chorus, “Oh no, not I, I will survive!”

Is trua é sin. Ba mhaith liom grá an chomhrá.” Elaine spouts off in Irish, grinning widely as she looks at Cassandra. “It’s alright, I don’t expect most people to know the language… although I might get lucky and find someone on today of all days.” She shrugs. “I’m a bit of a language nerd. But if you’re looking for new friends, look no further than Dee and I. We make fantastic friends.”

As far as them being close friends? “Oh we do go way back, known each other since before the war, longer than that still.” She turns to Delilah. “I’ll stop by sometime and see about teaching him to make a decoder ring. Then he can write all kinds of secret messages and impress everyone.” Her gaze whips back around to Cassandra. “I’m Elaine, nice to meet you.”

Then there’s a bit of commotion when Eve makes herself known and Elaine does her best not to put her face in her hands. She should have expected something like this.

The advantage of new places is not knowing what /to/ expect. Cassandra nods with a smile to Elaine and Delilah, tilting her head curiously at the obvious code being passed between the two. Decoder rings? “I haven’t had one of those since I found one in the bottom of a can of Quik in my nana’s house about fifteen years ago. Might have been Richie Rich or Betty and Veronica. I don’t remember which one, really.” She offers a hand to Elaine to shake. “I’m Cassie. It’s good to run into nice people”

The lights go down and her first instinct is to pull out her flashlight. The candles give the whole place an otherworldly glow, and as the Eve-shaped shape barges through the crowd on a mission for the stage, Cassie can only sit back and watch with a grin, sipping her whisky a second time and giggling. “Gloria Gaynor’s alive and in the safe zone?” She sits up, craning her neck a little to see the stage over the few people between her and it, bouncing a little as the lyrics start to be sung back at the singer on stage. “Not Gloria. And not a drag queen. Who /is/ that? And why…” She catches two of the thrown joints, tucking them into her breast pocket. “Is she normally so generous with her stash?” She plops back down on the stool and looks to DElilah and Elaine, just in time to see the full-throated facepalm from red-head #1.

"Look Monica, you never know unless you ask," Cesar defends his question, but there's a buzzed smile on his features showing that he's not in any way offended that she's laughing. When Monica pops out of her seat to go greet her war friend, he lingers back to wait for the drinks, adding another whiskey neat to the order. That one's going to be for "Boomer".

He's still waiting when the lights cut out, and that does get a groan out of the man too. "Is it time for a brownout? What time is it?" he asks a nearby patron. Then he's bumped, and he turns to find just who it was until Eve's voice comes over the speakers. "Oh shi— " The man can't help but laugh. She did tell him there were wild parties at the Cat's Cradle. He's a little late in swinging by since that time, but he's here now. And he is present for this. For Gaynor. The first notes get a definitive whistle from the man, hoisting his Guinness in the air. One joint lands in the glass, and he fishes the object out with a couple flicks to dry it off. Then he gathers the whole lot of drinks to him, making sure they don't get confused with the rest of the glasses on the bartop.

P.S., Cesar knows all the words to this song. And he yells more than he sings out the chorus with the rest of the crowd. P.P.S., the agent definitely is not the next American Idol.

"Is he? Good. I'll have to track him down. Maybe after the hangover I'm gonna have tomorrow." Monica grins over at Chess, then looks back over at Cesar. "What, Cesar? He's used to geting yelled at, don't worry about it." But before she can further try to convince Chess to come have a drink with them, the lights cut out. She's still not used to the rolling brownouts here in the Zone, so her instinct leans toward alarm. Her buzz is totally ruined as she goes tense and alert.

But it proves unnecessary as Eve pushes her way into her own place. Monica laughs as she's bumped into, as the voices come over the speakers, as the music starts.

"Come and have a drink. Boomer." She gives Chess a more amused smile there, but lets her decide for herself instead of dragging her over. But Monica slinks back to the bar, taking up her spot next to Cesar again and picking up her drink. When the joints come out, she tips her head back to laugh a little more.

The sign does say it's a 420 friendly establishment.

And of course, Monica could catch all the joints coming anywhere near her, but she opts to let the others have her share. Cesar's attempts at singing bring her attention around to him, but apparently only so she can join in with him.

When Chess is pushed, just as she’s about to reply to Monica, her instincts run to alarm too, and she’s reaching into her bag of tricks to find something, but then the whisper stops her, hand half out, curled around something. She doesn’t quite relax, but lets whatever it is drop back inside.

“Mad-Eye?” is her disbelieving whisper back.

The question is answered a few seconds later when Eve comes out singing and throwing drugs at the crowd.

“Jesus Christ,” Chess mutters, but there’s a look of incredulous amusement on her face. Keeping her eye on the stage, she moves to the bar.

A small handful of the snack food is crammed into her mouth, while the emptied tray is abandoned on a stool. Squeaks quick-steps to avoid some boisterous patrons at that table and maneuvers with a duck-and-weave to gain some space. It places her nearer to the bar sooner than she’d anticipated. No big deal.

But then the lights go out.

She’s been in the safe zone for as long as there’s been a safe zone. Maybe longer. The brown outs are no surprise, and the kid blinks her eyes a couple of times, rapidly, to adjust to the sudden darkness. In the dark she gropes, feeling her way to a stool and climbing onto the seat, so that by the time the lights come back on, she’s seated at the bar. And helping herself to the garnishes usually reserved for mixed beverages.

"Delilah." The second redhead makes a more proper introduction to Cassandra, hand lifting in a half salute. "He'd love that. And I don't know where he got it from, I thought they'd been phased out too! Maybe someone told him a story." She relinquishes her hold on Elaine to lean in over the bar and ask for a spritzer, just before the lights wink out. She cranes her head back to look, a touch apprehensive in the dark until the stage comes on again. Okay, that's supposed to happen. When she turns to see what is going on, she pairs Elaine's desire to hide with a loud snort of laughter.

"Oh, lord." Delilah has zero concern in her voice, levelling Cassie with a crooked smile and a narrow of brown eyes. "Sometimes I swear she has to have an agro in her pocket. But yes, I'd say she is. Eve isn't exactly someone that does things halfway." When she turns back to take the drink nudged at her, Delilah's attention goes from flying debris to the young girl seated at the bar. Now, once in a while she will take her son into places such as this if she needs to or it is something less adult, but Walter's pointed absence makes a line drawn somewhere.

"Well, hello there." Delilah takes a better look at Squeaks shoving ingredients into her cheeks, eyes up and down the smaller frame in quick study.

As the crowd joins in for the chorus, Eve cracks a smile and nods her head enthusiastically, “More! More!” And the crowd does give her more. The energy is electric as Eve throws out more joints. Eyes bright.

She goes through the chorus one more time before the music ends and she waves as the crowd roars again. The seer looks like she's high on more than weed. Her body sways to the fading, final notes of music and she stands there looking out at the crowd. A fair bit of the crowd have sparked up their gifts, the Frat Boys hoot and holler loudly at a nearby table. Smoking to their heart’s content.

One of the boys, a blond beefy looking type whistles at Chess’ back and with a raised eyebrow gestures for the other boys to take a gander. “Look at that!” he's not using his quiet voice and he coughs loudly from the joint after to which the rest of the table laughs.

Eventually Eve wanders to the edge of the stage kneeling there talking to people for a few minutes, she takes a few puffs of joints that she just gifted out with a chuckle. Whispers a word or three in the ear of a few different people those people walking away with confused expressions on their faces but the Oracle isn't delivering bad news tonight so her expression stays at one of amusement. There is something there though, something she is masking. Her fingers are stained with paint, she must have finished a new painting recently.

It sat in her car, dried and stuffed inside after waking to Gabriel’s empty cottage.

There is a few minute break where Eve has disappeared into the back of the green room. She comes out dressed in a silt dress a bright green color. Heels to match, her hair wild now but in a more manicured way, her fingers are still stained in paint though and her expression twitches from excitement to confusion. She could have missed the party. She didn’t want too, she needed a light evening. The morning had been rough.

Dark green stained lips are spread wide in a tight smile as she worms her way through the crowd.

“That would be Eve. She’s in a good mood, clearly,” Elaine’s chuckling now. “You’ll want to listen very carefully to what she has to say to you, should she, y’know, say anything to you. She does fortune-telling here.” The redhead watches Eve for a long moment before shrugging it off and looking back to Cassie and Dee. As for the decoder ring? “I bet he traded for it. You can find all kinds of stuff people have just thrown away over the years, crawling around in old houses before they get demolished. That’s what I’ve heard, anyway, my house-crawling days are over.” Probably.

Since Delilah’s attention drifted, Elaine looks back to Cassie. “You’re in good company here, that’s for sure. If there’s anything Eve knows how to do, it’s have a good time.”

The brunette sings along with the chorus, the verses lost in cheers and dancing around the inside of the club. There’s not any sort of irish connection that can be found in “I will Survive,’ but it seems to work with this crowd. Being able to sing and forget about what might be is liberating. “I’ll be sure to be careful.” Cassandra says to Elaine with a smile, watching the quick-change seer vanish in blue and return in green, moving through the crowd at the edge of the stage, lording over her subjects like a mad queen. “How accurate are her predictions? Will I meet a tall, dark stranger? Is love in my future? Should I beware the ides of march?” She giggles merrily, finishing her whisky, her glass slapping down on the bar with a bang. “Having someone like Eve around is a dangerous thing. You can have fun and get into trouble before you know it. And with her passing out joints like candy? Well….I’ll be sure to come for her halloween party.”

What started in English dissolves into an ending of “Sobreviviré!” and tipsy whistles and whoops for Eve. Sigue, sigue! But alas she’s got to get down from the stage to mingle. Cesar gulps another bit of his drink, turning to Chess and Monica beside. “Glad you finally joined the party,” he says, nodding to the friend from the war. The second whiskey neat is nudged in her direction. “C’mon and have a drink, relax. You’re safe from m—“ Cesar pauses as he recognizes the checkout from Beeferton Fratboy. For a moment, he leans in such a way that he can make eye contact with the younger group, and send along the I’m watching you vibes. So much for using his words.

When Chess makes it to the bar, Monica slides the fresh whiskey neat over to her. And when people around the bar start lighting up, she looks over at Cesar, "This might need to be the last bar." Because this place might be on its way to being the biggest hotbox ever made. There was a time when that would be her cue to leave, but it isn't tonight. Instead, she lifts up on her stool to try to catch Eve's attention in the crowd.

That is derailed a bit at the cat calling, though, and Monica turns to look at the frat boys, too. Chess can handle herself and Monica knows that, but still. "Hey," she calls to the table, "why don't you look somewhere else while you still can?"

It is not the first bar fight she's picked today. But they all deserved it.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” is tossed a little sarcastically in Cesar’s direction from Chess, who gives Monica a look, but it softens a little for each of them when whiskey is pushed in her direction. “Salud,” she says, picking up the glass; to her credit, with both Cesar and Monica coming to her “rescue,” she doesn’t even toss a look over her shoulder at the whisper and laughter from the frat boys.

The shot glass is tipped back in a fluid motion, and she sets it down on the bar without much more than a blink at the burn of the liquor. Only then does Chess decide to actually sit on the barstool, but there’s something about the angle of her feet and knees that suggests she’s ready to take flight at any moment. “You know her?” she asks, with a jut of her chin in the direction of their hostess. “I know her from the war. I didn’t realize this was her place. Or that it would be so busy.” The latter indicates some disappointment.

Candied cherries and lime wedges are gathered onto a stack of napkins. Squeaks curls a hand protectively over it as she begins searching for more within easy reach. There isn’t anything she can immediately get her fingers on, and after a second or two of searching, her attention is caught by a swell in the crowd’s volume. Her eyes go from the room in general to Eve to the joint that flies overhead.

Which brings her to face Delilah.

The studious look is mirrored as Squeaks returns Delilah’s gaze. “Hi.” The greeting is not very loud, but it’s direct and sounds unafraid. Her actions, however, show her caution. That protective hand draws the pilfered goods closer in order to make them disappear into one of her pockets, and her eyes stay on Dee. Watching.

Elaine is chatting with Cassie and the rest of the bar is thoroughly distracted by Eve and each other. Delilah hears the hooting going on, but it seems she is used to the noise when it comes to her ears. She pays it little mind, instead lifting a brow to Squeaks at the teenager’s cramming wet foods into napkins.

“I know you. Sort of.” Delilah sounds less like she wants to accuse and more curious about catching the girl mid-snacking. “I’ve seen you around, haven’t I?” Her consideration comes with a thumb running along her chin. “And my goodness, here, hold on—” Nose scrunching a little as she puts a hand up under the shoulder of her dress, Delilah tugs out a kerchief and holds it out to Squeaks, voice at a louder hush. “Put it in that before you get lime juice all over yourself…”

She’s certainly not going to stop her. She’s been there too.

The frat boys all oooooo together at Monica’s threat and the leader leans forward. “What's a pretty girl like you gonna do about it?” He seems to think this is one of those movies where being extremely cocky and condescending is how you speak to a lady. His green eyes give Monica a lazy/bored look, his gaze is wary when it gets to Cesar though. Big man.

Oblivious to all of this, she is. Eve is whirling and twirling through the crowd. Taking sips of her drink while leaning forward while multiple people extend their joints for her to puff on. Her dress sparkles in the light.

The hostess is making her rounds when she notices Cesar, Chess and a friend she hasn't seen in ages.


There's a sound of pounding footsteps and the seer nearly tackles her old friend there's a look of absolute glee on her face. “You.. look at you,” Eve spins Monica around with a look, “It's been a long time since we lived in that abandoned tenement building with Claire and the others. My how things change.” And they truly have, Eve has a business. HOW??

The seer gives her newer friends a wide grin, “Knight! Boomer! You know one of my oldest friends Monica!” Eve just loves how the universe works. “Monica probably has known me longer than anyone in this room. Shit the whole Safe Zone!” There's a laugh as she spies there's some sort of tension amongst her friends and the table of frat boys. Or wanna be frat boys. Seriously they need to not exist.

The music switches to something not Irish in nature and there distinguishable tone of Prince sings over the speakers. The bartender near Elaine, Delilah, Cassandra and Squeaks makes an effort to act like he doesn't notice Squeaks diving into all the food. He's sure Eve wouldn't mind but still, plausible deniability.

His brow raises though as she notes the obnoxious guys in the corner of the bar, “How do we have Frat Boys in this day and age? How did the war not utterly destroy Greek House mentality?” He's shaking his head but there's a leer there as he adds, “They’re the best to turn out though. So curious they are. Unsure of themselves,” the sassy bartender winks at the women as he slides free shots over to them.

Elaine keeps a close eye on what appears to be a soon-to-be bar brawl until Monica is greeted by Eve herself. She laughs, shaking her head a bit. “Well, at least it’ll be less messy now—” She stops, then shakes her head again. “I shouldn’t say that. There are dozens of ways this can get more messy and I’m not entirely sure that it won’t escalate.” She grins. “I’ve messed with a few frat boys in my day… figure out what languages don’t speak and then whisper insults at them that sound like sweet nothings. Best inside joke ever.”

Oooh. And then there’s a free shot. Elaine holds her shot aloft, waiting to see if Cassie and Dee do the same. “To getting drunk with old and new friends alike!”

Experience with frat boys is something Cassie doesn't have - war right after high school meant that her college plans weren't exactly possible. Still, she knows the type. “There’s always someone living off of daddy’s money, thinking this is acceptable behavior. Bet they wouldn't blink if she had a ring. Just sees it as a challenge. Hey!” She stands up on her stool, shaking a finger at the frat guys.. “Don't be asses! Be /nice/!” And this chastised, she sits back down with a giggle.

Shots are always a good idea, except when they're not. It's early in the night, though, and Cassandra is being good - only one drink so far, and even then, her one is halfway done. Of course she takes the shot between thumb and two fingers, lifting it with a grin to the pair sitting close by. “Here’s to a night on the town, to new faces all around. Taking the time to finally unwind, tonight, it’s going to go down!”

Monica's note about this being the last bar gets a agreeable nod from Cesar. The "big man" doesn't move from his seat except to angle himself so he's leaning where he can keep an eye on the boys. Especially when the leader taunts Monica back, Cesar raises a brow right at the other young man. It's almost an amused one. Because Monica and Chess can handle themselves, the former from his knowing them and the latter even just from their brief encounter, and now he's almost wishing those guys would try something. He doesn't, though, only tipping back the rest of his pint with Chess' toast and motioning for another.

"Right, this is just supposed to be a rousing night of pretending to be from a white man's country," he says mostly to Chess. At her question, he answers, "Monica and I met what… couple years ago? She's my workout buddy, hangout buddy, drinkin' buddy…" He trails there, angling a smirk in said buddy's direction. Then it's back to Chess as he speaks his thoughts, "Where were you when you two me—" His bit of friendly interrogation cuts off as Eve swings over finally, and he slings a smile over at the seer, gesturing with hands out as if to say, 'See? I made it to your place after all.'

With Prince on the speakers, he doesn't even hear the bartender's commentary at the other side of the bar.

"I know her from the war before the war," Monica says to Chess, her smile a little crooked. Of course, these days everyone knows what she means, so there's no need for innuendo. But old habits. "Eve gives out free weed and shots, Chess. And maybe your future. It's very popular."

But she nods to Cesar's words. "Yeah a couple— wow, two almost exactly." Now that she thinks of it. As far as the various definitions of their friendship, Monica doesn't feel the need to correct or add, just nod. "He was out jogging and tripped over his own two feet," she says, of their meeting. Because it was kinda funny.

The frat boys get a look. Monica sets her glass down at on the bar— gently because she doesn't want to break Eve's glassware— and gets up from her stool. Because she's about to show these guys what she's gonna do about it. But then, there is a sudden Eve. She might have heard her name called, but it didn't register before Eve was right there and nearly knocking her own.

"Eve!" she greets with a laugh. And she's happy to get spun around although she has to steady herself a moment later. "Look at you! You're doing so good! And you still sing like an angel. A rowdy angel," she remarks with a chuckle. "Hey, Eve. Can I throw a guy out of your bar? I'm really good at it now." She lifts her cybernetic arm to wiggle the fingers as if this might prove how much better at it she's gotten.

“Small fucking world. I met Mad-Eye in Virginia during the war. I see the years haven’t done much for her sanity,” quips Chess back to Monica, before looking over her shoulder at the frat boys. She rolls her eyes. “I really can’t show them what I can do at the moment,” she mutters to Monica, “but I can help kick their ass the old-fashioned way.”

Speaking of why she can’t show them what she can do, she looks over at Cesar. “I could have some Irish in me. You don’t know,” she says, in a mock-defensive manner, before adding, “I don’t know, for that matter. Adopted.”

When Monica wiggles her arm, Chess raises her eyebrows. “Nice hardware. Holy shit.” She glances back at the men to see their reaction to the artificial limb, and if it makes them back off any, then taps her shot glass for another hit from the bartender.

“Maybe.” The kid is a familiar face on the streets. She doesn’t show any sign of recognizing Delilah. But then with her cautious airs, she’s probably not showing a whole lot. Those sticky, damp snacks are slowly delivered to her pocket, sans kerchief, the whole time Squeaks watches the woman with the occasional look beyond to the other bar-goers. Probably thinking her plunder is going to be taken if she doesn’t pocket it soon.

Which seems logical, because as the one hand retreats to a pocket the other reaches out to take the kerchief. Her movements are deliberately slow, reminiscent of a stray accepting a handout. Which she is.

Once her hand is relieved of the food, and the kerchief is tucked with great care into the other pocket, Squeaks folds both hands on the edge of the bar. Her movements continue to be slow and careful, and she side eyes Dee. Then the shot glasses that go sliding by. Then the group just on the other side of Dee, and back to her again.

It’s like Dee won’t take no for an answer when it comes to the hankie; she just smiles quietly when it’s taken, albeit a little out of order. Good enough. Delilah follows a moment of the kerfuffle with her eyes, gaze trailing on Eve as she cozies up to the others and a smile for the bartender, Cass, and Elaine as he slides them all something apparently on the house.

“Don’t you worry about me.” Delilah picks it up between slender fingers and motions to the teenager with it before joining Elaine’s toast. Here’s lookin’ at you, kid. “God, I am so not used to that anymore.” Delilah coughs a little as it goes down, brown eyes pinching up and a laugh caught under her breath. Her hand pats Elaine on the arm, still snickering. “I think I’ll stick to something softer, ha—”

“Oh this is wonderful, this is like the time I threw a rager in underneath the ruins!” Except a bunch of people were arrested then and a guy lost an eye. Eve promised not to play with flares again after that (she has not succeeded in that effort). But then there are boys being not nice boys and Eve slams back the rest of her drink and she rolls up her non-existent sleeves. The frat boys don’t look nervous but when Eve slams her drink down on the nearby table one of them, the weakest of them jumps with a yelp.

“You know boys,” her voice carrying even slightly over Prince’s music. “Back in the day.. It was like.. kill or be killed. My friend Ninja Doom here,” she jerks a thumb in the direction of Monica, “Use to beat people in the head with their own arms. I use to sew their eyelids shut.” Eve cackles at the ‘memory’ and nudges Monica’s shoulder. Whispering, “I love what you’ve done with your arm.” Before she’s rounding her gaze on the man in front of her. “You don’t have to be an asshole cuz your dick is tinier than a cat’s whisker.”

The leader of the frat boys looks up sharply as Eve does the one thing that every frat boy hates.. Insulting his manhood. He grows purple in the face and it’s maybe the alcohol, his anger or the fact that Monica is obviously her bar fight buddy of choice and so, he charges at Monica with a, “FUCK YOU STUPID BITCHES!”

There’s a brief pause before she locks eyes with Monica, “Well be my guest sweetheart!” Light gray eyes narrow, “I’ll get the one on the left, AIEEEEEEE!” And then she’s flinging herself at one of the boys. Not the one that yelped but the one next to him. Screaming bloody murder Eve pokes him in the eye and then slams his head into the table. The weaker boy screaming a high pitch scream before running fast towards the exit.

Eve is cackling as she slams the guys head in the table again, “Knock knock! Whose there?! YOUR MOTHER.” slamslamslamslam. There’s a soft heavenly hum that vibrates from her body as she does this.

Over by the bar, the bartender cracks a laugh at Cassandra and then Eve is, “Ah fuck, they went and did it.” He’s chuckling, “She gets like I’m Not sure how to describe it, she can lose her sense of reality.” The bartender winces as Eve grabs the man she’s been slamming face first into the table and hops on his shoulder. “GET ER DUN!!” She screams with a “WOOOO!” As she somehow gets the man to run to the door while she rides on his shoulders.


There’s the scratching of a record before Ballroom Blitz is blasting from the speakers.

What is going on?!? This is not what Elaine signed up for. And she’s certainly not had enough alcohol to participate in this. Instead, she stays back, letting Eve handle the chaos. Instead, she taps her foot lightly against the bar stool because hey, the song’s catchy, and she watches from her end of the bar, glad it’s not close enough to cause her trouble from her bar seat.

“Yep, I knew there’d be some kind of trouble,” she looks to Cassandra. “I’m not surprised this is going on, you kind of have to come in expecting all hell will break loose, so I hope you enjoy yourself.” She turns her gaze to Delilah. “Watch your head, Dee, something might go flying.” Her gaze lastly shifts to Squeaks. “If you want to scoot on closer to this end of the bar, you’re less likely to get hit by something. We’ll look out for you.” And so she stays at her end of the bar, ready to defend it if something came their way.

All Cassandra really did was yell at the frat guys, but seeing go to the next level when Eve slams one’s head into the table as a response to being charged and then ride the poor bastard toward the door was not something she expected at all. And she says so. “I don’t know /what/ I was expecting…” she says, killing her shot with a full-body shudder, slamming the glass down on the bar with a clink as she watches, being mostly aware of positioning and things like that in the event that someone comes barreling towards the bar with murder on their mind. “Not this!”

She ducks down to her bag and rummages around for something. Yes, she brought her bag - what girl wouldn’t in the post-war world? She’s not going for a gun or a phone but….a shard of an old LP. Looking to Elaine, Squeaks and Delilah, she makes a face, worried. “Don’t freak out.” Exactly the thing that’s said before something strange happens. “/Please/ don’t freak out.” she repeats, grabbing a handful of napkins from the bar caddy and shoving them over her eyes with one hand, the other gripping the shard of record, and then…well….something starts happening, focused on the stage.

The stage lights flicker, fading to darkness before a spotlight comes on from /somewhere/, illuminating the stage. Exactly where it comes from isn’t clear because the spotlights in the bar aren’t visibly on. The blaring of Ballroom Blitz cuts out, like someone yanked the plug out of the stereo system. And then, in the ensuing silence, a short English man with a moustache and a short haircut appears on stage in an undershirt, a pair of blue jeans with a studded belt, and comfortable sneakers and takes a seat at a piano that wasn’t there before. Mind you, he doesn’t walk out on stage - he just appears at the piano. Quickly, he plays a few chords - B sharp, G minor, C minor, F - adjusts a knob on a mixer on top of the piano. Again, a piano that wasn’t there before, and starts to play.

How many people can honestly say they got to see Freddie Mercury play Bohemian Rhapsody Live? A good portion of the people here, right now, can say that they did on the stage in Eve’s Bar in the safe zone with a full backup band that’s too big for the stage. It’s almost like someone is projecting a 3d concert film on a too-small screen. There are artifacts, though, so it’s certainly not perfect. Cassie’s ability, amplified by alcohol, does a very good job, but some portions don’t project properly. It’s almost like a lower-quality buffering going on, and at the start, the notes are about three seconds behind before it skips and catches up. Folks on the periphery of the bar do wonder why people are suddenly cheering but about a hundred square foot portion of the bar gets to see a short portion of the Live Aid at Wembley Stadium show, and considering they’re drunk and/or high, it’s amazing. Even without intoxication, it’s still awesome.

Cesar's response to Chess' claim of possibly being at least in a part Irish earns a lift of his shoulders. "Ey, my parents are from the Caribbean, so more than likely, so am I. Which is why I'm about to pound down another pint." He's perfectly ready for just the continued night of drinking and contact high from the number of joints lit up at this point. Or, that's his intention until Eve's going on about sewing eyelids shut and practically literal self-flagellation. The taunting insult from the seer elicits a small, amused 'ooh' from the man.

With the frat boy's lunge for Monica, Cesar quickly pushes up off his seat in defense of his friend. He's not after the lunging leader but the second in case the other man wants to jump in and try to even the odds. Again, though, he's stopped short as Eve takes the second frat boy on and slams his head into a hard surface, not once, not twice, but several times. "Shit," the man swears out of surprise at the ferocity of the act. Then he moves to try and stop the bar owner (of all people) from going all impromptu rodeo clown on them.

He's moving after Eve and the frat boy as they get near the door, trying to wrap his arms around Eve to pull her off the bleeding, broken-nosed young man. "Monica!" he calls behind him, "Meet you outside!" After all, if she's about to throw someone out, it's the most likely place to go next. Freddie’ll be missed.

"Yeah, this might not be the place for it," Monica says to Chess. "Old fashioned, it is." At the compliment to her arm, she smiles crookedly, "Thanks. They tell me I can't enter any arm wrestling contests anymore, though."

Eve's explanation of their past antics gets a laugh. If she hadn't been drinking all day, it might have occurred to her to set that particular claim straight, but as it stands… she does not. Instead, she grins over at Eve, "We'll have to catch up. I'll tell you all about it." But then insults begin and there's a guy charging her way. She doesn't engage, not like Eve does. Instead, she waits for the last second then steps smoothly to the side and uses a hand to help him run into the bar. Heavily. Her hand— the robot one— grabs onto the back of his shirt.

She glances over to see Eve going what might seem to be a little overboard, but when Cesar moves that way she nods and hauls her frat boy off the bar. "Careful, Cesar," she notes with some amusement, "she bites." There's a glance to Chess. "We'll be back." And then she's shoving the guy away from the bar and toward the door, her free hand moving to twist his arm behind his back to encourage him to move.

Barroom blitz, more like.

“Jesus,” mutters Chess when suddenly the frat boy lunges toward Monica and Eve throws herself into the fray. “And here I thought we were embarking on a brave new world and all that noise.” When Monica’s attacker is pushed into the bar, she glances down at him when he lands there, moving a little to the left like she’s afraid he might bleed on her leather jacket or something.

Dark eyes dart to the stage, and Chess lifts a brow, then turns as Monica and Cesar make their exits to haul the problems outside. She reaches into her back pocket to find some bills, then reaches for the new shot the bartender has slid in front of her. This too is tipped back in one smooth motion, then set back on the bartop along with the money. Catching Eve’s eye, she holds her hand to indicate a phone and mouths ‘Talk later.’ At the very least, she knows where to find Eve — Eve has never needed to know where Chess was to find her.

She makes her way to the door — she won’t be back later — at least not tonight.

It’s difficult to know for sure if Squeaks takes Delilah’s placating words to heart. But she seems willing to stay somewhat engaged with the woman. She doesn’t move, or say anything else while shots are tossed back, but she observes very carefully who is immediately beside her and those just beyond.

She’s not oblivious to the antics of the frat boys or Monica’s gathering. Until the moment of Eve’s outburst she’s taken note of it happening, but it’s over there and she’s over here.

When the yelling turns physical, Squeaks is off the stool, nearly upending it in her haste to remove herself from that mess. Delilah and Elaine’s offers of safety are barely given acknowledgement. Her eyes flicker that way, but she’s already set her mind on what she’s doing. Even Freddy Mercury is ignored.

The kid doesn’t go to the door like the fraternity members or other departing partygoers do. That way is the way the source of the bad things went. Instead, she bee-lines for a back door, an employees’ entrance or something, anything that will lead her out a different direction.

It’s probably no surprise that Delilah more or less sinks into half-visibility when stuff starts getting knocked around, and she isn’t shy about using Elaine for a shield of sorts, either. Between Eve and the others and the boys— she is grimacing up a storm. She turns her head to Cassandra at the warning, perplexed until things begin to happen again.

Rather than be alarmed, it is quite the contrary. Delilah has seen enough that she puts two and two together, mouth hanging ajar when she looks from Cassandra to her illusion(?). She’s never seen one quite like this— it’s astounding, really. Who cares about boys in bar fights??

“That. Is. Awesome.” Delilah cozies up between Cass and Elaine with a grin, staying helpfully out of the way of Eve’s unique way of bouncing people from the club; between her and Monica, there’s not much of a reason to worry.


“Didn’t your mother!”


“Teach you!!!!!”




The tunes change as Eve rides the fray boy’s shoulders out of the door, ducking down from the doorway as they sail through, “I LOVE QUEEN! WHEEEE!”

The frat boy screams like a chicken with his head cut off and Eve reminds him of the sewing of eyelids and the fact that she has beheaded chickens. “CLUCKCLUCKLUCK!”

As the boys are ‘showed out’ the bartender let's out a nervous laugh. “She's only had to do that twice before,” the projection of Freddie Mercury gets the crowd roaring with what the fucks and what the FUCKS. The joints keep getting smoked, the drinks keep flowing and the sound of one of the frat boys screaming, “WHAT THE FUCK MAN?!” Filters in from the outside, barely heard but by the people nearest the door.

What the fuck indeed. What the fuck indeed.

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