Participants:
| Scene Title | On Prospects Drear |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Logan is the man~ with~ A PLAN~ As ever. |
| Date | October 17, 2009 |
A flashy little strip club, its name advertised in bright neon pink above the door in swooping cursive, with the figure of a woman outlined in the same seeming to kick a leg with each flash of the light. Two bouncers stand by the door, which is a reflective chrome and stays closed unless opened by the security duo, with a red carpeting extending out onto the pavement. They will check you for I.D. before permitting you entrance. You'll be greeted by a woman in full burlesque regalia, with exaggerated makeup, a corset that barely keeps everything in, fishnets and feathers. Provided you can pay the cover charge, she will show you to a table, offer to get your first drink of the evening, and leave you alone to enjoy what Burlesque has to offer.
The main room's focal point is the generous stage, a circular platform with Broadway lights around the edges, and a catwalk that extends further out into the scattered round tables where patrons can sit and drink. The lights that shine down on it are never particularly clear, often shards of pink, green, blue, which hide as much as they reveal. There is almost always a dancer on the stage, even as even more girls move around the room to give more intimate shows on tabletops. There's a long bar that crawls along one side of the room, with a couple of bartenders behind it, a counter of black glass with rows and rows of liquor on display on glass shelves. Leather booths are tucked away towards the back, offering some privacy for whatever purpose.
Despite the proposed theme of the club, impressions of burlesque only factor in with the permanent staff and particular shows of featured dancers. Otherwise, the tunes are standard for any kind of strip club, and the girls will wear what they like. There are private lounges for more expensive, personal shows, and a darkly lit, obscured staircase leading up to both dressing rooms and the manager's office.
It's an average Saturday night, which means Burlesque is crowded, although the manager was notably— again— absent from its vicinity. It's been a rough week and what work Logan has been during is strictly on paper and done during daylight hours, providing he's not kidnapped by Chinese gangsters or put in FBI custody for three days. Tonight was no different, having stepped out for whatever sanctuary he could find before the red carpet could get rolled out and the evening kicked off with so much fanfare, glitter and naked flesh.
An ordinary night for Toru, who doesn't exactly get to choose his nights off, unless he doesn't desire to get paid. Locating him for Logan is no trouble, simply stepping up to the bouncers at the door with a brisk chin up and a quick question as to where the young man's been stationed.
His cigarette is abandoned on the sidewalk and crushed out under the heel of his boot, before moving back inside the strip club without so much as needing to flash ID or money, or even wear a tie. The coat is expensive and masculine, black under this light but actually navy, and covers more casual gear of a thin grey sweater, jeans, though his boots are still fine.
Toru pulled the short straw tonight; he's on restroom duty. It's low-hassle and low-key, which is a sweet enough deal for someone of his size anyway, but it's still fairly uninteresting and dull. Stand outside the bathrooms, keep an eye on the surrounding area, break up any line-fights that might seem likely, make sure nobody's trying to sneak in for a quick shag. There are, after all, the occasional female patrons! It's easy enough work.
He's spent the majority of the night standing next to one of the two doors with his hands in his pockets. He dresses nicely for the job, as well; a black suit that's loose enough not to impede movement, blue patterned tie clipped to the shirt, possibly a walkie earpiece if Logan's into that kind of thing. The hair is even down, for the most part; spiked, still, but he's not going for the touseled look.
While the club is crowded, there hasn't been much in the way of potty fighting to deal with, so Toru's been able to relax a bit. Standing around is boring, but it beats dealing with drunk people with the more immediately-pressing ability to pee on you.
The bathrooms are about all that can be expected of a strip club, but nothing near as bad as some dive bars they've likely both frequented. Around a corner and through a corridor, not quite removed from the rest of the building but minimal privacy and inattention afforded the immediate space when there are prettier things to be watching. Music still nags at the edges of hearing, the sound of conversation, the sound of the bar.
And now the sound of foot steps as someone approaches. Not such a big deal except that this time, they're after the guy skulking around out front the bathrooms rather than the bathrooms themselves. "Whoever said a life of crime is glamourous was kidding themselves."
Logan has both hands tucked into his pockets as he saunters on over, a glance around as if he hasn't seen this section one million times before before focusing on Toru. "How's it going?"
And no line at the moment, conveniently enough, so the sound of footsteps has Toru standing at ironically inattentive attention, twisting just slightly to crack his backbones into alignment, and— looking at Logan with bemusement as he approaches. "Hey, yo, this ain't crime, it's a legitimate business." And there's a smirk, with that reply; a sort of 'but you understand, you're in on the joke' tone to his voice.
And with the impression of being a good attentive worker given, he leans back against the wall, hooking one foot over the other, and looks over at his boss. "Guess you ain't sick of the place no more, huh?" Less sarcastic in tone, now, though he's curious more than concerned. "Y'know how it is. Bathrooms." Shrug, gesture to restrooms, hand back in pocket. "I mean I figure it probably works out better over here anyway, I don't really look all that threatenin', bathrooms is pretty low maintenance."
"What up? I don't think you ever hunted me down on the job before." He's acting a little bit unusual; casual, but not too familiar. Friendly, but not in a way to suggest that they might actually be close at all, God forbid. Not that it's a good idea to go letting everyone else know you're sleeping with the boss.
In contrast to Toru's affectation of distance, Logan wanders on closer, slightly within what is socially accpetable casual chatting distance. He brings with him the acrid scent of cigarettes, wine that harks back to when he drank it so often back in the Rookery, and whatever left over cologne he'd selected at some stage during the day. "That's 'cause I wanted to talk to you. You know that new place I got?"
The one he's been heading on over to for the past couple of days. The one Logan also didn't say he never bought for himself and has in fact accidentally stolen it from a girl he didn't even kidnap but is missing anyway. That one. "As fate would have it, the Flying Dragons caught on. So now I either have there, or your place, in the heart of bleeding Chinatown."
There's a creak from the door, which has Logan shutting up as a patron steps on out from the bathroom, barely casts security man and club manager a glance before he's ambling away.
And somehow Toru is entirely unsurprised that it's bad news. It's always bad news. He runs a hand over his hair, letting out a long breath, and thinks a minute. "Well, what do you mean they caught on? Like, they know you're staying there?" A hesitant step forward is taken, still far enough away to not look too suspicious, though he does jump slightly when that patron wanders out. The man is given a brief nod, attention then turned back to Logan.
At which point he holds out a hand to brush lightly against his employer's elbow. "My place.. I mean, it isn't that bad, right? Even if they found out you were staying there it isn't like they'd know which apartment unless they were pretty obvious about followin' ya, but I mean… it ain't like they caught on before, right?" He smiles, slightly forced, but nonetheless encouragingly. You can stay with meee.
Though not to appear too married to that idea, he adds, "Didn't your old building have insurance or anything? They couldn't put you up anywhere else until like, repairs are made or anything?"
"I didn't come down here to plead homelessness," Logan corrects, eyebrows going up. A slight twist has him steering a look over his shoulder before coming to lean against the wall beside Toru. "Not that I suppose I haven't lately been doing a poor impersonation of Oliver Twist. No, I'll be fine - there's a place set up for me if I need it, and I've got your apartment if I can stand to brave the neighbourhood. My point was— they caught on because I ran into one."
There's a pause, as if trying to decide exactly how much story is worth telling to get to the point, and evidently decides not at all, words sheared off with a shrug of the shoulder not leaning against the wall. "I need you to do something for me, so that this can end."
Though if Logan's not going to explain, Toru is still going to ask. After all, he hasn't been told not to. A brief moment of panic does meet that explanation, but he calms down quickly enough. "Well you're alright, obviously. Unless something happened I can't see." Brief glance over Logan's torso, as if he could see through clothes, but he moves on from that. Anyway. "So, um."
He frowns, leaning against the wall once more, looking straight ahead as he speaks. "I think— if you want me to go in boning people that probably won't fix things. And I don't really see what else I can do that'd be— " Pause. "Wait, is this a race thing?" The question is asked only half in jest, though he does turn to Logan with a slight smirk. Lightening up the mood a bit. "What do you want me to do?"
"We just had a chat. But if I don't pay them back their 'debt'," and though he makes no physical quotation marks around this word, it's certainly there in his tone, "then it might be more'n a chat. See, here's the— " Logan cuts himself off and rolls eyes ceilingwards as another patron comes pushing on through, two women making hen-cackles off bounce off the walls, faces red from one too many cocktails. Logan affords them a smile as they go by, as genuine as he gets, before the door is shutting behind them.
The Brit takes his weight off the wall, rolling his shoulders. "Dunno if you've been reading the news, but there's been heat put on the Triads lately - particularly the Flying Dragons. Military, and everything, not to mention they have enough enemies that now's the time to do something about it and make sure they're good and gone."
Toru's own smile to the women is pretty transparent, but hey, not that they'll notice. If it wasn't for conversation, he probably wouldn't even go that far anyway. So. "You're beating around the bush," he replies, simply. "And usually when people do that it's 'cause they want me to do something they got a real good reason not to wanna do themselves." He slips a hand out of his pocket, letting it dangle against the wall for a moment; after tapping a brief tune, it moves over to take Logan's closer hand, brush a thumb along knuckles, and release it again.
"Yeah, I been payin' attention to what's goin' on, just on account of how we're kinda involved sorta. You know what I mean." Headshake. "Anyway, just tell me what you want to do, and I'll tell you if I'll do it."
Shifting around to stand in front of Toru, Logan rests his still broken hand against the wall beside the younger man's shoulder, the other free for touching, or being touched, as it were. "I'm just explaining so that you don't go off on some tangent that I have to reel you back from," he states, free hand now moving to fidget with and smooth Toru's tie. "Seeing as I'm not staying out of it."
His mouth twists into a smirk, as if in recognition that he's still taking his time getting to the point. "I've got something coming up. It'll take manpower. I don't have the details yet— not when, nor where— but I need to know if you'll come along, guns blazing and the whole nine yards."
"Since when have pretty words and explanations stopped me from going off on a tangent?" Toru sticks his tongue out, though there is a hint of annoyance in his tone. He squirms a bit with Logan standing in front of him like that, glances down at tie-fiddling, glances back up sheepishly. "I feel better if you aren't staying out of it, anyway, since it means you aren't throwing me out at something you're avoiding for yourself."
Head tilted back a moment, he bites his lip, thinking the matter over. Hn. "I did get shot last time, you know." In case you forgot~ A hand is lifted to tug at Logan's fidgety one, moving it up to the shoulder in question. "Right here. I think you were there."
Logan glances towards where his hand is placed, fingers curling around that arm in a subtle squeeze. "And then you woke up the next day, and you were all better. Are you sure it even happened?" Facetiousness bleeds both into his tone and the smirk that accompanies it. Seriousness, however, present in his eyes when he studies Toru's face for reaction and response. "And as for tangents…"
He leans in a little more, close enough that his breath curls warm against Toru's throat. "Had to try."
Biting his lip there, Toru's eyes glance about hurriedly before he finally looks back to Logan. Hands lift up in a slightly defensive posture, pressing against Logan's chest — not so much to push him away as to just keep some distance between them. "H— Hey, uh, don't go doin' that, now." Gulp. "I know what you're doing and it's n— it's going to work if you keep doing it so how about we just go back to talking, alright?"
Another sheepish smile at that, accompanied with blush and clearing of throat. "Aaaanyway. Okay, come on, is this just gonna be like last time again then?"
"It could even be worse. But it's more important too." Logan does back up a fraction, though not by much. Taking his weight off the wall, it's his broken hand now he rests against Toru's chest, the attached rhinestones glinting in the low lights of the corridor against the matte background of shirt, tie and suit fabric. "Fine. Talking. I seem to remember you saying something about how you'd wish you'd been there," and he taps his aluminum bound fingers once against the younger man's chest, "when this happened."
Toru nods slowly. "I think I remember saying something like that." He lifts a hand to hold the wounded one, though almost overly gently, and gives the matter another moment of thought. "I'm just… I'll admit I'm a little scared, okay? I never.. that's the most I ever been hurt before. It was kinda.. but I mean, I guess if I'm just more careful.." He bites his lip, looks down at broken fingers, up at English. "I mean I guess if we aren't on a motherfucking boat it might not be so easy to get shot at. Too many places to hide there, y'know?"
As Toru's hand comes to rest over cool metal, rough bandages and warm skin, the nudge and development of serotonin easing through his system is an inevitable, a mood lift. Logan gives a brief, near warm chuckle, as if it were a passing concern. "It won't be on a boat. They won't be looking for trouble, either - if you're transporting drugs across the river, you expect a little bit of what happened. This won't be that way. I'm making sure we've got some more manpower, too, joining forces with rivals of theirs."
"Then I'm not really sure I see how this could be worse than before," Toru notes with a smirk, fingers playing along rhinestones lightly with some amusement. Fuggin' rhinestones. "I guess if you figure this'll get everything to stop that you're planning on gettin' rid of the head honchos though, huh? I don't figure there's any other way this'll get worked out." He does look hesitant about that particular idea, but happy mood keeps him from worrying too much. He always feels so much better with Logan around~.
"That would be the idea," Logan agrees, eyes trailing down and then back up what he can see of Toru's from the angle. "Like I said, I'll have more details for you soon. But for now— " Aaand inevitably, when people enter a bathroom, they leave it too. The two women barely give them both a passing glance, though to his credit, Logan does back up an inch or two - even if his hands never leave the younger man's arm and chest. "For now," he continues, steering his gaze back to Toru. "You'll do it?"
"It sounds alright so far.. So I guess I figure as long as it doesn't turn out to sound too bad once you get the deets then we'll be good to go." Toru nods, ignoring the women really, and looks Logan over again with a second nod. "So for now, yeah, I mean.. yeah, for now it sounds alright. More people and all." He smiles tightly, brings his arms back behind his back, and nods a third time.
"So tell me, do you get like, a little jolly out of getting all up on me like that when I can't really do anything about it?" His tone is mildly accusatory, but his expression is one of cautious amusement.
In theory, Logan could retract and go on his way now that he has what he wanted, but then, he did come all this way to Brooklyn. "Who says you can't do anything about it?" is a facetious question, almost asking for challenge as he shifts in closer once more, both hands slipping to rest on Toru's chest and giving a slight push to shift him back up against the wall too. "And, who says it's not just getting all up on you?"
And Toru really should probably have expected that response, but sometimes he can be a little dumb. Heartrate goes up rather significantly and he gives another glance around, but, as usual, doesn't really do anything to stop Logan. Resistance comes solely in words. "L— Look, Mr. Logan," the title used in light of present location, "I d— don't think this is really appropriate." He does go so far as to lift his hands to grip Logan's wrists, but doesn't do anything with them once he gets there. "I think we're a little above shagging in public toilets, don't you?"
"Cor blimey," is purely affectation, although who really knows. It's murmured, too, as he adds, "You'd better make sure the manager doesn't catch us." All the same, Logan does steer a considering look towards the bathroom door, where the paint is flaked in places and there's a tag of penned graffiti in the corner and opens up to tile and porcelain, and he twists his mouth in a contemplative expression. "You're right about that, though."
Which doesn't mean he doesn't go in for a kiss, brief and biting as it may be before he's drawing away entirely. "I'll be in my office if you don't feel like being entirely appropriate. You can tell 'em the manager sent you up."
Toru's expression twists into something simultaneously embarassed and indignant, somehow, but he isn't any less enthusiastic a recipient of that kiss. "I — meant from a purely legal standpoint. Indecency and— shit." As Logan pulls away, he makes a grabby gesture with one hand before balling it into a loose fist. "God dammit."
A glance is given around the hall, and he lowers his head with a sigh, fidgeting with his pockets for a moment and finally nodding. "You know, sometimes I really hate that about you." Pause. "I'll follow you up in a minute."
Soft laughter echoes through the hallway as Logan backs up a few steps, pointing a gesture at Toru as he says, "That's right, I forgot: this is a legitimate business. I guess this is why I hire you." The smile is near dazzling, if not quite as much as rhinestones. "See you in a few." And with that, he turns on a heel and makes for the corner that rounds out of the hallway, unbroken hand catching on the edge as he disappears with a flick of coat and not another word.