brian_icon.gif danny_icon.gif deckard_icon.gif felix_icon.gif pam_icon.gif

Scene Title T&A
Synopsis Deckard gets drunk and convinces a Brian to take him to Exotica, where Pam does her thang and Danny is resigned to the rowdy company of his peers. Later, while Danny asks Honeynipples Pam out, Felix shows up after sending out his pink girly-glass version of the bat signal. Unfortunately, Brian gets all jealous and drags Deckard away before they can exchange friendship bracelets and gossip.
Date December 2, 2008


Turn the headlights off. Check. Turn the ignition off. Check. Hide the keys. Check. Remind the Asshole sitting next to you to lock the door behind him. "Lock the door behind you." Check.

The doors to the 91 Dodge Spirit fling open, and exiting out of the Drivers seat is Brian Fulk. He has a styilized white hoodie on with the hood pulled up. He doesn't want to be seen in a strip club. As a matter of fact he doesn't want to see in a stripclub. But Deckard is a dick. Locking the cardoor behind him, Brian swings it closed. Breathing in the chilly night air, he tucks his hands into the pocket of his hoodie. His feet crunch on frost below as he joins the drunker Deckard to the entrance of the place. Though he won't admit it to Deckard, not right now anyway, he's never been in a stripclub before.

The doors open and Brian recoils as if a blinding light just hit him in the eyes. "They're really naked? Fuck I thought they had censorship laws or something." Whether he really thought that was up in the air, but what isn't so hard to tell is that Brian doesn't like it in here. A look of disgust plops squarely on his features. "Make it quick man." Brian mutters to Deckard, adjusting his sweatshirt over the piece he keeps in the back of his pants.

The party is hopping and many other people are already having their fill of Exotica, it's loud, and Brian cannot believe the sights that he is already taking in. And like an adorable little churchboy, he averts his eyes as much as he can.

Deckard is a little drunk, it's true. Drunk enough to have thought sunglasses and a cowboy hat would be subtle, or a good idea. Or both. Or neither. He closes the door behind him, hesitates, turns back around, and re-opens it — this time to lock it before he slams it shut again, one hand braced around the handle so that he doesn't fall on his ass when one shoe fails to find purchase on the slick asphalt.

He chuckles at the near fall, breath blasting harsh through the flash of his teeth when he starts after Brian for the club proper. "Make it quick. It's not like you walk in, jerk off in a corner and walk out again, Chief." Another chuckle, and he shoulders his way in past Bible Brian to squint over the joint, probably in search of people who might want to kill him. The bouncer nearest the door squints back. The leather jacket, jeans, and white shirt are not suspicious. The hat and glasses — decidedly kind of weird.

Some people take a Johnny Cash song and decide they want to improve on it. Whether or not they actually manage is an exercise best left up to the listener. Everlast covered Folsom Prison Blues, but since there's a blonde stripper up on stage dancing to it, many guys there could probably only say that the song sounded familiar. It's got that country feel to it jazzed up by the slamming of bass and little wheee-oooos. 'If they freed me from this prison, if that railway train was mine, I'd prob'ly drive it farther down the line.' Pam slides down the pole in the center of the stage. Hey, nice boots. Cowboy boots. Heels. Not practical in the slightest.

It was not Danny's idea to be here. However, one of the guys at work suggested it and well, apparently it's not enough that they spend hours and hours together at the firehouse, now they want to spend more time together, this time at the nudie bar. And Danny got dragged along. Or more like some jerk stole his keys and won't give them back until the night's over. It's not that he doesn't like naked women, I mean, who wouldn't. He's just not in the mood for it. Still, he trails after the group of boisterous firemen. Yeah, this'll end well.

Frowning, Brian takes a step in. After he's used to the lighting of the place his features perk up surprisingly. One hand leaps out to grasp Cowboy Deckard by the shoulder. "Hey!" He says like a bright eyed child. "This song! Folsom Prison! That's where I'm from, I used to drive by that Prison on my way to college." Brian says with a smile, little joys in life. Though he pauses after he makes that excited statement. Oh yeah. Flint Dickard. Releasing him, Brian rolls his eyes as if Deckard was the one getting all excited he tucks his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt.

"Just get your fill and let's get the fuck out of here, Dick." His chosen nickname for the older man today. He eyes the room carefully, very pointedly not raising his eyes to any of the dancers. That's a no-no.

"Howdy," says Deckard to the bouncer, brows knit over the rim of his aviators while he tries to discern exactly what kind of look his squint is meant to represent. Is it: Not this guy again? Or…where's my phone so I can call that bald guy who said to page him if a skinny creep in sunglasses showed up?

Either way, Deckard's attention for such details is limited at the moment. Once it's clear he and Brian aren't going to get pushed right back out the door, he heads for a table on the opposite side of the place from where he usually sits. So, right up at the stage, which should be fun for current company.

Coordination lacking, he drags out a chair for himself and drops down into it, immediately putting in the order for two crown and waters — light on the water — once he's settled. "Maybe next time we'll come on karaoke night and you can tell us all about it."

'Far from Folsom Prison, that's where I want to stay! And I'd let that lonesome whistle, blow my blues away…' Twang twang twang twang twannnnng. The song ends; Pam sweeps her sequined cowboy hat off her head and bows, which the people behind her approve of. She saunters along down the stage, collecting cash.

Off to a corner table goes New York's Finest. Then come the round of drinks, most of which if repeated more than a couple times will be the cause of many a headache tomorrow morning. Danny sticks with beer. Nice, simple, and he can nurse it all night long if need be. Also, the bills have been pulled from pockets and are being waved about by several of the more dickish of the group. Danny looks pained. Then he squints at the blonde. He hadn't been paying attention before.

Taking a seat next to Deckard, Brian definitely does NOT look up the cowgirl collecting tips. Maybe when she gets a little more fabric on her. He looks around at others who are not strippers. Some men get disgusted looks, though Danny gets a sympathetic look, and finally Deckard gets an asshole look.

"Shutup asshole." Brian says cleanly in response to Deckard. He pulls his hood further over his face. If he were to look at Pam though, he too might be squinting.

Deckard is feeling generous tonight. Maybe it has to do with withdrawals. His wallet is out and on the table almost as soon as their drink orders have been taken, and he's thumbed a five out and clapped it down onto the stage with a sideways stretch of his left arm before Pam gets there.

"What's the deal, bro? I thought we were friends. It hurts my feelings when you call me names." Rather than look at Brian as he speaks, Flint keeps his head tipped down whiile he shuffles through the cash in his wallet with his free hand, counting it up.

Pam swivels down to pick up the cash by Flint and Brian —- Flint is briefly eyed, but the glasses throw her. Also, it's loud and noisy and she generally tries not to look at people so much when she's on stage. Straightening up, she gives a jaunty wave to the crowd and starts toward the back. Honeysuckle the stripper looks like Pam, only with a lot more makeup. Same smile, though.

Danny continues to stare at the stripper, that one of his comrades calls him on it. "What? You know her or somethin'? You been comin' here without telling us, Lucky?" Danny rolls his eyes, mutters, "No, I thought I knew her." Then another pipes up, "Well, what, and you haven't hit that? I'll give it a go!" He lets out a loud, shrill whistle to get Pam's attention. It's abruptly cut off with an elbow to the stomach, and Danny tells him, "Don't be a jackass, man."

She most definitely will not pick up cash left by Brian. That's for sure. He does not support this practice. Looking over to Deckard, the young man rolls his eyes. "You're a dick. You always call me stupid." Brian mutters from inside his hood. "I'm going through a rough fucking time in life right now, and you just call me dipshit. You dickshit." He leans back and places his hands on his lap. Heaving out a deep sigh.. Maybe.. just maybe. Once glance.. His grey eyes go up for just a second a little peek. And then back down quickly. And then back up for a longer gaze. This time, his squint matches Danny's of just seconds before. His gaze goes a little wide. "I know that chick." Brian murmurs to Deckard, elbowing him. He then lowers his gaze. He won't stare. That would be rude.

Glasses and all, Deckard gives Pam a pretty transparent once-over through the slight pause that occurs while she's taking the tip. He smirks, more to himself than directly at her, but the moment is brief and she doesn't say anything, so he doesn't either. There's some guy whistling anyway. He narrows a look over thataway while flipping a few bills out of wallet and into pocket for easier access.

"Really? So do I. Her name's Honeysuckle. I asked her to have sex with me once and she said no, but we're still friends."

Pam ignores the whistle as she slips out of sight; whistlers are never good news. And now her night's over, so she'll be busy in the back putting on more clothes, checking her cash, and all that other good stuff.

"Honeysuckle?" Brian asks incredulously. Giving a hard look to Deckard, "You really think that's her name?" He tilts his head with a light frown. "She likes animals." He comments a little sadly. Then his eyes go over to Danny and his friends. Eh. He looks back, now that Pam's gone, he can look around more freely.

Danny follows wherever it is that Pam disappears, albeit only with his eyes. And with a slight tilt to his head, he studies the backstage wall, as if he could see through it. He ignores pretty much anything else, as his friends have the attention spans of hummingbirds and are focusing on someone else. Poor girl.

"She wouldn't tell me her real name for some reason." Some strange, unfathomable reason. Brows lifted, Deckard sits back when a whiskey is placed before him, and another before Brian. The girl serving them doesn't check the latter's ID, and for that, she earns a five of her very own.

Meanwhile, he can see through the back wall, and does. Something about the wholesome environment of Exotica combined with the ever looming possibility of a long and painful death makes him just a little more inclined to skeeze. "What kind of animals?"

Pam is pulling on some jeans, wobbling on one foot and nearly falling over. One of the other girls prepping for her time to shine glares at her. "Watch it, Snow White." Pam rolls her eyes. "Tuck your string back in, sweetie." Pam zips up and goes for her t-shirt.

Danny can, in a manner of speaking, though it's not quite as interesting, though the pretty colors are interesting. Shame he's such a straight arrow. Infrared vision while on acid would probably be fun, if you were into that sort of thing. In any case, he seems content to stare off into space. His friends are used to it.

Brian, cannot see through walls. And so he is left to looking at the back of his eyelids. "I don't know what kind of animals. I think she said she was a vet or something. Probably all animals. Why the hell do you wanna know 'what kind of animals'?" The last bit is done in Brian's interpretation of Deckard's voice.

"Just trying to make conversation." Wolf Whistle table gets another sideways look from Deckard while he drinks, but with the stupid hat and glasses it difficult to tell what he's ogling at any given point in time. "Are you going to drink or just sit there all night and think about wal-mart greeters?"

Danny continues to stare with that funny tilt as he drinks his beer. He manages to go through it faster than he expected. So when a waitress comes by, he puts in an order for another.

"Wal-mart greeters? Really?" Brian asks, exasperated, looking over at Deckard. "I'm driving.." He protests but goes to grab his glass anyways. "Just one." The young man murmurs, bringing it up to tip some of the liquid back into his mouth and down the throat.

"Or cock," Deckard elaborates, the chill of his own glass lifted to his temple under the broad brim of his hat. "There's a guy over there who doesn't look all that interested either. Maybe you can go sit with him and start a knitting club or something." His scruffy chin is tipped up at David.

Pam pulls her backpack over one shoulder; a girl passing by informs her there's some really drunk guys playing pool, and Pam considers this tidbit for a moment before putting her bag down again and sauntering out to pick up a pool cue and simper something about joining their game. TO SHARK THEM.

Danny breaks off his study and shakes his head. Swears and shakes his head again. Then sighs and rubs his head. Once he gets his beer, he also orders something harder, and then his friends hoot and holler about him joining them in their fun.

"I'll show you cock." Brian says distractedly as he shuffles out of his seat and makes his way away from Deckard. "Remember, an erection lasting for more than four hours should be taken to the doctor, immediately. " He calls out after his shoulder.

He slows up once he gets to the pool tables, eyeing Pam. "Hi." It is murmured as he walks past her and her new buddies. He stops on the other side, though the hood is on, he glances at her enough so she can get a look at his face.

Suddenly, the cheese is all alone. With Brian's drink. Rather than sulk, Deckard opts to make the most of the situation, tipping the younger man's glass over into his own to refill it. His head turns after just about everything female that walks by, but there's all this hooting and hollering and it's like totally distracting. So. "Hey! Shut the fuck up over there!"

Pam glances toward the hooty table, then toward Deckard. Who is loud and familiar-sounding. And then there's Brian right in front of her; she pauses in the midst of chalking up her cue. "Hi," she says, a little dully. Great. Found out again. "How's your head?"

"Fuck you!" comes the reply from Danny's table. Clearly, off duty? They are /not/ New York's Finest. Danny is not joining in with the noise making, just looks irritated by it all. However, he will refocus on Pam. Lucky girl.

"Taken a few more poundings, since then." Brian says softly in answer to Pam. His grey eyes sweep around the room quickly. "When you said animals, I thought you meant like cats or monkeys, not humans that act like dogs." He informs her softly. He speaks just loud enough to be heard over all the other noise of the place. Though he glances over his shoulder at Deckard. "He made me come. Says he knows you." Brian murmurs with a jerk of his thumb at the drunk cowboy.
There's a little flurry at the door. Some local gangster, with his entourage in tow. A dark-haired man with severe features, a trophy blonde on his arm with the icy good looks of a Hitchcock leading lady, thugs in tailored suits. And one Fed, no doubt taking payments or giving information. Because who isn't corrupt, in this day and age? Fel looks utterly bland, in a tailored suit of his own, trailing after a little.

"No thanks, Elton!" Deckard is not the finest of anything, New York or elsewhere, on duty or off, and he seems to be having some issues with volume control because he's definitely shouting louder than is strictly necessary to reach their table. His drink is lifted, sipped, and then tipped over at the side wall, and the restrooms behind it. "There's nobody in the bathroom if you'd like to go in there and fuck each other!"

"I do work with animals," Pam tells Brian with a thin smile that doesn't really reach her eyes. "But school doesn't pay for itself." She turns her head toward Deckard and winces a little. "We've met. Tell him I say hi?" She reaches up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, glancing around again. Firefighter table is so /noisy/. Except that one guy. "Aw, dang," she mutters. Danny.

A couple of the firemen flip Deckard off, but the rest continue on in their rowdy, boisterous way. And Danny continues to sit there and drink and watch, with an expression of indecision on his face.

"I'd rather not." Brian says in response to her request to tell Deckard hi. But.. it's just then that he gets the joke Deckard through at him a little earlier. Elton. Elton John. Elton John's gay. Damnit. Foiled again. "So you're one of those desperate downtrodden youth who have to resort to using your body to make money to make ends meet?" Brian asks plainly. "Sad." Then her aw, dang. "What's wrong?"

The party of apparent mafiosi splits - the girl vanishes into the back, the men, with the exception of Felix, take a table. The Fed drifts off to the bar. He leans in, and murmurs to the bartender. Which is why a cosmo is set before Deckard a few moments later.

"That the best you assholes have? A couple of middle fingers? Not even a solid, 'Your mom?'" Shoulders slumped back into the set of his chair, Deckard rolls his eyes behind his glasses and reaches back down for his whiskey, only to have the back of his hand nearly tip over a much pinker drink along the way. He pauses, squints at it, and…stiffens. Conspicuously.

Pam raises an eyebrow at Brian. "Honey, don't even go there with me. Downtrodden? Not hardly. It pays the bills an' I don't need your pity." The accent's thicker in here. She's holding up a game of pool by now. "An' I know one of those guys there an' he's just found out I'm a stripper and not a nice veterinarian. It's like everyone comes through here."

"You wanna a go old man?" from a couple of enterprising ones. "We can go outside." Danny rolls his eyes and stands up, killing off the last of his drink. Decision's made, it seems. Looks like he's coming over.

Brian looks a little taken aback at the sudden accent. "Ew." That little 'honey' bit certainly isn't attractive to the young man. "It was a joke." A shot over the shoulder, brows narrow. "Sorry, I didn't mean to say you were entirely independent and could support yourself and ain't naw body gonna stop you!" A snap of his fingers in front of his face just to emphasis his mimicry. "Shit." He mutters with another glance over his shoulder.

"I better go.. I never got your name though. Your real name. Not.. Honeysuckle."
Felix is at least feigning being unaware of Deckard's reaction. He's smiling to himself, however. The incipient fight is a worthy distraction, though, that has him turning half-away from the bar.

"…I wouldn't want to embarrass you in front of your boyfriend," Deckard responds on a distracted delay. How fortunate for him that these things tumble from his mouth with near automatic precision. He doesn't look over his shoulder at the bar, jaw working while he tries to find something else to look at instead. Telepathy would be a really useful ability to have right now.

Pam blinks twice when Brian does his snappy fingered thing. "What y'all just did there? Extremely condescending." She gestures with her pool cue back in Deckard's direction, her smile thin. "You better go." A glance over at Danny again. Hell.

There's always that one guy who insists on having the last word, and so he chooses to exchange barbs with Deckard, rather than concentrating on the important things, like naked women, "You're the one who seems so concerned with the fact we're gay. What if I am? What the fuck is it to /you/? Why do you care?" Danny continues to ignore his friends as he makes his way over to the pool table. Once he gets there, it's, "Hey." Well, it could be worse, he didn't call her a tramp or whore or something.

"Sorry." Brian says softly in response to the girl. "Your accent wasn't so strong.. that.. Skateboard night." What he calls the night that the shadow man appeared and he got hit in the face with a skateboard. "Maybe I can get your name, next time you check my head." He suggests.

Straightening up, Brian makes his way back to Deckard. "What the fuck are you doing?" He looks over to the firemen he's verbally sparring with. "I'm sorry about my grandfather, he gets edgy when he doesn't get his viagra." Turning to Deckard, Brian makes a motion for him to get up. "We're leaving."

Felix is not getting involved. He's just watching, nursing a whiskey, and wearing an expression of ophidian amusement. And perhaps waiting to catch Flint's eye.

Pam lowers her pool cue again, bristling a little less when Brian apologizes. She nods to him and turns to face Danny fully. "Hi," she greets. "Night out with the guys from work?"
There is much snickering at Brian's remark, before the focus becomes, once again, the women and the booze. As far as they're concerned the fracas is settled. "Yeaaaaaaaah,"

Danny drags out. "I'm sorry they're being such assholes." He studies her for a moment and invites in a neutral tone, "So, you work here…"

"Well, gosh, I sure wouldn't want to go around back with a couple of — heeeey, there." Brian's back! Hi Brian! The table is mostly the same as it was when he left it, save for the fact that he now has a fruity vodka drink and both whiskey glasses are close to empty. Lower jaw jutted, Deckard tips his head back to peer at Brian. Then, finally, at the bar while he lifts of his cowboy hat to scratch at the muss of his hair beneath it. "I haven't said hi to Honeysuckle yet."

"Being a veterinary tech doesn't pay very well," Pam tells Danny, her voice even. "So this pays the bills and it's a lot better than tips from waitressing." She shrugs a shoulder. "School doesn't pay for itself." She's watching his reaction, guaging it. By the set of her jaw, she's not expecting a good one.

"You can say hi to Honeynipples later. We're leaving now." Brian commands, reaching down to grab Deckard by the shoulder he will yank the man to his feet if he has to. Looking over his shoulder once again he frowns at the sight of the man he recognized from the Nite Owl. The somewhat important looking man he decked. It's a small fucking world. Hopefully, his hood will help him stay disguised. But getting out is still priority number one. "Come on Dick. Let's go."

Bad luck. Because now Felix uncoils from his seat at the bar, and comes sauntering towards Deckard. He's smiling, though it doesn't really show any teeth. "Been a while," he says, amiably. "In such a hurry?" There's no sign of recognition in his face for Brian.

Danny considers this a moment, before nodding, "Makes sense." Then, "So. Is now a bad time to ask you out or do they have a rule about fraternizing with the customers outside of the job?"

Honeynippl—-PAM blinks at Danny, startled. "You… want to ask me out? Just what are you expectin'?" So wary.

"Honeysuckle," Deckard reminds, resisting Brian's upward drag with a hint of an indignant jerk about the region of his shoulder once he's up onto his feet and his hat has been pushed firmly back down onto his head. Leather jacket jerked back down into place, he manages to take about a step backwards towards compliance when Felix comes asauntering. He opens his mouth to reply, glances at Brian, and then back to Felix. Hm.

Danny flashes those dimples, "Dinner and a movie and a second date."

Brian glances to Deckard then back to Felix. Oh the drama. A guy who inquired about Peter Petrelli who knows Deckard.. Brian is supposed to make sure Deckard keeps a low profile.. Obviously the cowboy hat and the sunglasses failed. So now what?

Wishing he had a tiny little Teo he could pull out of his pocket and ask advice, the young man turns his back a little to Felix. Just ignoring him for now. He pulls harder on Deckard's shoulder. "Come on Grandpa."

Fel just continues to beam at Deckard, eyeing him over the rims of his glasses almost affectionately. "What's the story, Flint? I haven't heard from you. Too busy with your new friends, like what's his name here?" He jerks a thumb at Brian, though the look he flashes the younger man is warning.

"Al," says Deckard, who goes about another half-step backwards at Brian's urging by virtue of the fact that he's being tugged. With the exception of that shoulder, he remains mostly squared to Felix, whiskey-muddied mind working overtime to compensate for his current disadvantage. "You can see him?"

Pam actually laughs a little at that, though the amusement fades. "HONEY, are you playin' with us an' our balls or not?" demands one guy at the pool table. Pam looks over her shoulder, frowns, and says, "Not." They are unhappy when she passes her cue back; various derogatory terms toward women are applied to her. "Listen, Danny… you knowin' this is kind of easier. I mean, I don't get to… I keep this a secret. But it gets hard on guys, me shakin' my ass for everyone. I dunno that you want that."

Felix's warning look goes ignored. Brian continues to walk towards the exit. Dragging Deckard if he has too. "We're leaving." He insists once again. He doesn't look at Felix. More chance for recognition that way. He continues to drag Deckard towards the exit.

Danny gives the guys a /look/ and a very curt, "Shut it." Then he turns back to her, the expression dropping away, "Listen," and there's the sense he's going to say her name, but doesn't, "I want to go out with a pretty girl, who I think is nice. Just go out. I'm more worried about you getting your feelings hurt from that," indicating the pool table jerks, "than the fact that you dance. You've clearly thought about it, and you're okay with it." He shrugs and says, "I just think you're a nice woman that I'd like to get to know."

"I can," Felix affirms, gently. And then there's the buzz of the phone in his coat, and he hastily pulls it out and flips it open. The number there has him scowling….and whatever he hears when he answers it makes that scowl deepen. He swears to himself, but says nothing further to the pair beyond a muttered request that Deck call him. With that, he snaps it shut and strides for the door, without even an overcoat.

"Yeah, okay, just—" Deckard is 6'2" and probably not all that easy to drag, but when Felix flips open his phone and appears distracted, he goes a little easier. A twenty is tossed down onto the table, one foot crosses awkwardly over the other. One more awkward sidestep and look back at Felix later, he turns enough to move for the door in earnest. "Way to play it cool, shit for brains."

Pam slides her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, peering at Danny with a rumpled brow. It's not the most attractive expression. "…You said ex-wife, right?"

"I thought we were friends tonight Dick. I can't let that asshole see my face." Brian mutters as he pulls the drunken Dickard to the door. Swinging the door open. The man motions for Deckard to get stepping towards the car. "Come on. We gotta bounce, bro."

Danny holds up his left hand to show off the bare ring finger. No tan line either, "Ex-wife. Lives in Albany with my daughter. Besides, she couldn't deal with the fact that I ran into fires. Willingly. Especially after nine-eleven." He shrugs a little, "So, I suppose it'll be who breaks first, whether you decide you can't date me for what I do, or whether I decide I can't date you." There's that lopsided, dimpled grin again. "So, wanna give it a go?"

Pam bites her bottom lip, then smiles. "I'm free tomorrow night."

"Night, Honeysuckle!" Deckard yells back through the swiftly closing door, voice quickly turned hoarse by the wall of cold air that presses in outside of the club. "You're a bad babysitter for bringing me here in the first place, son."

Pam shoots the door an amused glance. "Oh, Mikey."

"Fuck you." Brian mutters as he unlocks the Spirit's doors. Slides in and places them in the ignition. He'll unlock Deckard's side only after the older man tries the handle a few times. That impatience is maddening for everyone. Once they're both in the vehicle, the Dodge roars off into the night. The two driving off to their next adventure…

Danny answers Pam with another smile, "Imagine. So am I. I suppose I'll have to get your number, so I know where to pick you up." At the yell, he swings his head around to eye Deckard, but looks back to Pam. "Also, I get these guys off my back," he indicates his firemen pals.

Pam gives Danny another little smile and states her phone number. Interesting!

December 2nd: Aiming Westwards
December 2nd: A Good Position to Play Coy
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