Participants:
| Scene Title | Tonight We Karaoke in Hell! |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Tartarus hosts a karaoke night. The choices in music aren't quite what was expected, but both amusement and awe are had. |
| Date | September 22, 2010 |
For the most part, it looks as though it could be any other night at Tartarus. There are lots of goths, people drinking, laughing, flirting. But there are a few more people than usual for a Wednesday night. That could be due to the fact that the stage is lit up, with a karaoke machine set up, a list for signing up situated at the DJ booth. There are only a few names on the list, with one person up on stage, singing halfway decently.
Melissa is perched on a stool at the bar, technically working, but not having to really do much. She's dressed in a black skirt made of sheer fabric, layered until it's opaque, and a corset, uncaring that it reveals her scars. She seems to be enjoying the karaoke, grinning and listening, one foot tapping lightly to the beat. Around her is more than a few people who are drinking more than usual, in order to get up the courage to get on stage and sing in front of this crowd.
Clad in his AC/DC shirt, beat up blue jeans, and a pair of black all-star converse, Amadeus is sitting back at the bar, making eyes at Nadira while he knocks back a glass of whiskey. He's signed up, but it's not his turn yet, so he's just watching. "Hey, tender chick, you got any ice cream back there? I want you to put some vanilla ice cream in my whiskey and then sprinkle some salt on it."
Where there are drinking, laughing, flirting people, there is Nadira. After all, who else would serve the proper amount of alcohol to give people the courage to add singing to that list of 'ing's. Sliding a drink across the bar to a customer, the Egyptian woman leans against it as she observes the person on stage. Peering over the bar at Amadeus, she raises an eyebrow, but gives a nod. "One of the more interesting things to order. Most people don't particularly try something like that." She proceeds to make the drink as instructed, sliding it over to him once it's set.
Toru is sort of vaguely hanging out with Amadeus, or at least in the same general area as the aforementioned dude; they showed up together, may as well stick together to some extent. He's already got a rum and coke in front of him, which he stirs occasionally with a stir stick. Amadeus's request for ice cream gets a bit of a raised eyebrow from the token Japanese kid, who turns to look at his ~buddy~ with a look tinged with horror. "Dude, that sounds like something a twelve-year-old would think is a good idea."
She was supposed to be meeting Jaiden here, he said to wear something cute and they'd have fun. Arriving quite a bit too early, Delia shies into the club behind a group of regulars. She's wearing a cornflower assymmetrical dress that's a little too preppy for this kind of place, but she got it at a thrift store so the redhead can just claim it's vintage. Sparse jewerly, a bracelet and her crucifix. All of this is matched to a pair with soft pink ballet flats.
Sliding up to the bar, she pulls a bit of her long hair behind her ear and clears her throat to get some attention. Spying Mel at the end of the bar, she gives her a shy smile and a little bit of a finger wave as something meant for someone else is dropped in front of her. It's liquor… amber in color. She just shrugs and hands over a bill, fully intending on carrying the glass everywhere for the rest of the night.
Dressed in a black suit — following his studio recording for the day, he decided not to change, aside from removing his tie, Brad enters the goth bar, poised to sing very off-key for the evening. His red shirt peeks out under the black of the suit jacket, adding just a punch of colour and likely showing that he's not actually a goth. Bradley Russo's eyes scan the room for familiar faces. He spots Melissa and shoots her a flicker of a smile; he'd promised her he'd be here. His eyebrows furrow, however, at the redheaded stranger sitting at the bar. He presses his lips into a charming smile allowing it to touch the rest of his expression before stepping towards her, his black dress shoes peeking out under his dark pants with every calculated step.
The strides are confident as he slides next to the redheaded girl and grasps her drink. With a quirk of a smile he brings it to his lips and takes a swallow, shaking his head as he does so. It's his drink now.
A smug smile is shot towards the twenty-something as he slips her a bill in return, "You look too young to drink." The statement is honest before he tacks on, "And by the way? I just saved you from a life of pain and suffering. You can thank me in five years."
For already having more than a couple of shots of whiskey in him, Wes Smedley isn't looking much better than he did when he started his evening.
That's the real trouble with curfew. With everyone expected to be tucked away in their homes as early as nine, New York City has changed from the youthful city that never sleeps to the geriatric city that's in bed as soon as Jeopardy and the Wheel are over with.
Which means Smedley had to get a headstart on his drinking. Knowing that drowning his sorrows in a bottle wouldn't be wise to do on his own, he was intelligent enough to meet up with Edgar Smythe at the Pelican. A few drinks later, and he's teaching the slightly younger man how to drive the yacht so that they can make it back across the Narrows and start a proper crawl.
Tartarus is not the first venue on their intangible list, either.
The pair almost crash through the doors, with Smedley, for all his alcoholic lubrication, still not looking very pleased with the world around him. That might be because it's already starting to get a bit fuzzy. "The hell kinda place is this, Edgar?" he manages to say without slurring too horribly. "S'bunch'uh … weirdos." Goths and cowboys are rarely a good mix. But it's warm enough that Smedley has gone without his coat, which means he's dressed in a dark t-shirt and jeans. His boots aren't of the tooled variety, either, which is probably a good thing. Still - there isn't a lick of black cloth on him.
Ling looks sorely out of place among the other denizens of the bar, from the almost painted up goths, to the casual people in rock band t-shirt, to the bartender bhind the bar, Ling stands out from all of them. Venue means little to her as she stands near the bar, dressed in black slacks and a black button up woth shirt, arms crossed as she looks out over the crowd. She is there, in theory, to see what the club is like, in teh event she actually follows through on all the talk of her becoming a business manager and marketing head for the establishment. Of course, it turns out that of all nights, Melissa has decided to bring ehr by on karaoke night.
If there's one thing she's not doing sober, it's singing.
Not too far behind Amadeus and Toru is the short, tattooed form of one Keira Fionn. She doesn't look as rough and tumble as she normally does, sporting an adorable dark blue pinup style flapper dress, which compliments her pale tattooed skin (there are a lot of tattoos on that woman!). Completing this are a pair of heels that would probably suit a stripper, which add a good five to six inches to her height. Her heels click on the floor of the bar as she follows behind Amadeus, her arms crossed as she casts a slight frown around the room.
Despite the stink-eye she's giving to everyone and everything in the goth bar, she stays close to Amadeus and Toru, completely wordless. She's kinda creepy right now, in all actuality. Really creepy, actually.
When people she not only knows, but likes start to pile in, Melissa's smile turns into a full blown grin. Delia gets a nod and finger wave, as does Russo when he wanders up to the redhead. But then she takes pity on the poor Ling, looking over towards the woman. "You look like you'd rather be anywhere but here," she comments, before turning to Nadira and crooking a finger. "Tequila for me, hon, and anything Ling wants is on me. I'm trying to con her into joining the Tartarus family."
"I dunno, s'Mel's place…" Edgar's grimace as he glances around at all the goths is quite a picture. Cowboys and goths are like crude oil and water, add a carnie? It's like tossing raw potassium into the mix. He stops short as a group of giggling black painted girls cut in front of them, his hand coming up and smacking Smedley in the chest to stop him from walking into them. Oh yes, Edgar just pulled a walking shortstop.
Making his way up to the bar, the juggler finds a spot near Melissa and sort of sneers as he looks around the bar. "This is wha' you do 'ere? Ehm.. you go' anythin' tha'll drown the sorrow of a man in pain? Sum'then like tha' hooch'er wha'ever it is?"
Smedley grunts when he's stopped so short by Edgar's hand, but it's the girls who walk past him that bear the brunt of his grimace, even if they pay no attention. Men like Smed'n'Ed are far from the usual fare in a place like this. Still - it has a bar. That's what matters. For when the worries get to worrisome, an old man's vices become far, far too temptuous.
He pours himself onto the stool next to Edgar and leans his weight on the bar via his arms, blinking at the row of bottle behind Melissa. "Hoocher? I don't give a shit what it is so long's'it's straight, simple, and strong."
Jobs. She wouldn't be in New York right now except for the fact she had a couple of jobs scheduled. She wouldn't have taken those except that they were for favors owed, and while Daphne Millbrook might be a little irresponsible now and then, there is honor among thieves, and she tries to stick by her word. Besides, you never know when you're going to need another favor, and the sort of people she is paying debts to are the sort of people she'd want in her corner should the shit hit the fan.
The speedster is certainly not Goth by any means — her shock of white-blond hair strikes a stark juxtaposition against all the black and purple and navy and scarlet, though her skin is pale enough to fit in with the natives. She's dressed in a black mini dress — yes, a dress — with high black boots, having come from a charity event at a small museum where she finished a job an hour ago.
Dark eyes skim the club and she looks a little amused, especially when she sees others even more out of place than she feels. "Hey, Mel!" she calls across a bunch of people, standing on her tiptoes and then peeking behind someone who moves into her way again right as she tries to sidestep him. Daphne places hands on the goth's shoulders, moving him one foot to the side and points a finger at him. "Stay." And with that, she moves to pass between him and the bar, heading to Melissa.
"C'mon and sing bitches, I want to hear you all make sweet sweet cheesy as hell muuuuuusic!" Raquelle has arrived…yes, the man wears a black fedora at a jaunty angle to complete his look but he throws up horns when he throws up his arms and the boy's got some pipes…because he's loud before laughing and blowing a kiss to random people and making his way towards the bar. "Goth's singing karaoke, I thought I'd never see the day…okay I'm lying, I've seen this day before…" He leans against the bar, elbows resting against the surface as he addresses the bartender. "Vodkatini baby, mwah, thank you…" A soft sigh. "I swear, the first person to sing Tatu or Evanescence? I am cutting. I won't even feel bad about it…razor, meets pale as milk skin, meets for their own good…" It muttered before he turns to scan the area thoughtfully.
There's a frown of protest from the curly haired redhead that Russo just happened to save from the drink. "Hey! That was mine!" Not meant to be a childish whine, but it sort of falls in the category. Slapping her hand over her mouth, Delia takes the bill with the other and eyes it impressively. $50 for a $5 drink… "Whoah… THANKS uhm… tell you what? We can karaoke later, okay?"
The girl gives Brad a brilliant smile and waves to the bartender, with the $50 bill. "Hey~ 'Scuse me? Can I get a shirley temple? Uhm.. on the rocks?" She doesn't know what to order… if could be an alcoholic drink.
When Edgar addresses her Melissa shoots him a grin as well. "We do. And the lovely Nadira will get you guys anything you want. You can't go wrong putting your choices of booze in her hands," she says, inclining her head to the Egyptian. "And yeah, mostly. I just set stuff up and handle any issues that come up. It's not a bad gig, really."
Daphne showing up has her jumping off her stool and beaming at the blonde. "Daphne! I didn't know you were coming!" she says, and goes to give the speedster a big old hug, whether she wants it or not! While hugging she peers around Daph to grin at Raquelle. "Sorry, darlin', but Evanescence has already been sang. Hopefully you won't have to suffer through another song by 'em though?"
"No alcohol for her," Brad states matter-of-factly to the bartender. "She looks like she wouldn't know her limits." Oh irony! He straightens his collar before nodding, "Fine, we'll sing together… along with the cats in the alley." He flashes her a smile, "But you have to choose the song. I don't even need to know it and it'll come out the same way."
Extending a hand to her, he introduces himself, "I'm Brad." The smile grows a little, complete with a glimmer of mischief. He brings the amber fluid to his lips again before swallowing, "I also saved you from a glass of bad… is this whiskey?" His eyebrows furrow as he clucks his tongue, "Tut-tut. Could've done better, Kid. That means I saved you twice over." His eyebrows raise to punctuate his point.
"It's her!" Amadeus tugs at Toru, then points to Delia, apparently ignoring the fact that Keira is currently present, and Delia is banned from pursuit. He's curious as to why she's at a bar, but he doesn't question it. And then… there's guys!
He stands up from his stool, then marches over behind Delia at the bar, so he can eye the men. "Yo, Delia, these guys botherin' you or anything?" he asks in his 'tough guy' manner, looking from one guy to the other while cracking his knuckles.
"Yeah, I don't sing, just so you know," Daphne tells Raquelle. "It might be a few minutes of hell for you, but it feels like way way longer in my own head. I do sing in the shower, but most of you won't get to ever experience hearing that." She offers Melissa a quick hug (is there any other kind, from Daphne?) and then moves to Raquelle to offer him the same plus a kiss on the cheek.
Dark eyes dart from Edgar to Russo, recognizing them as well, and she looks a little nervous. She's never been one for groups of people, and more and more people seem to know her business these days.
She fidgets a moment before requesting a blueberry vodka and Red Bull from the bartender. "So, what, karaoke doesn't seem very goth. Is tomorrow night piercing and body manipulation night? Show your Prince Albert, get half-price bevvies?"
"What? Her who?" Toru looks all baffled, looks over to where Amadeus is indicating, and— oh, right, the chick. "What, seriously, you're all hard up over HER? She's like a highschooler, dude." Of course, by the time he finishes saying that, Amadeus is already heading over to mess with the guys in question. To be fair, they do look like a couple of jerks, but.. not Toru's business~ He's been in enough bar fights this month and odds are slim that John Logan will show up to attend this one. Tragic.
SO INSTEAD he turns his attention back 'round to Keira. "Lady, you are creepin' me out over here. Get a drink or somethin', will ya? Go up and sing some Tiffany shit, that's what girls are into, right?"
The attempts at conversation that Toru makes are…completely ignored. As Amadeus calls out Delia's name, Keira's eyes focus on the woman like a hawk. She snatches up Amadeus' drink, and in a manner not unlike a cat honing in on its prey, she stalks after Amadeus toward the redhead. As Amadeus stops to ask the question, Keira wrinkles her nose at him, fixing an extremely distasteful look on him. "Dude, back the fuck off of her, she's smilin'." She taps his arm with the back of her hand gently, a warning of the world of hurt he's likely to recieve later from the heavily tattooed woman.
Then, Keira turns her blue eyes toward Delia, slurping at Amadeus' drink. "So. You're Delia, hmmm?" She examines the girl quite thoroughly, as if sizing her up. She doesn't seem to care if she's butting in on any conversation.
Edgar is just taking a large gulp from a glass of whiskey when Daphne mentions a ring through the unmentionables. He's not familiar with the tampon but he is familiar with a ring through the nether regions. He's a carnie, folks, rings in odd places and tats are what they do.
The mouthful is sprayed in the direction of behind the bar and the knife thrower looks down at his own crotch and makes a little grimace that might be a signal that his rear iris just closed up tight for the evening. "Uhhh… Tell me you don' 'ave a Prince Albert, 'kay Smed? Actually… jus' don' tell me."
"I guess it's not very goth, but it seemed like a fun idea. And while piercing night might be interesting, I'm sure we'd get shut down for public nudity if anyone showed their Prince Alberts." But it just seems to thoroughly amuse Melissa, especially coupled with Edgar's spittake. Right up until she sees people converging on Delia and Russo, and her eyes narrow slightly. "'Scuse me," she mumbles to Daphne and Raquelle, heading towards the small group.
She puts on a bright smile as she maneuvers her way to stand just behind Russo and Delia, facing Keira and Amadeus. "No problems here, I hope?" she asks, looking pointedly at the latter two. "You should try singing. This is karaoke night, after all. You two can do a duet."
"Fuck no," Smedley growls as he curls a hand around the shot glass that's set in front of him. Can't get any simpler, straighter, or stronger than 1.5 ounces of distilled grain mash. He shoots it back, then looks from Edgar to Daphne, his eyes narrowing. The shot glass is slammed on the bar, and he gestures for it to be filled again.
"Damn kids got too many holes in'em to know what t'do with," he grumbles, turning so that his back is against the bar, his elbows propped against it. It gives him a better view of the club, where he can freely glower at the pierced populace. "If y'were to pay any kinda normal man't put a hole in'y, y'd end up tossed in the Narrows."
Raquelle is offering air cheek kisses to both Melissa and Daphne as he takes a deep breath an grimaces. "Please tell me it wasn't Going Under?" The man pulls a face. "That song makes me think of homecoming with the best butterflyer on the swimteam and what we did in the pool during the last dance…" He winks to Daphne. "I think you do sing…or you should sing anyways…" He ponders this, watching Melissa walk off and he sighs softly, shaking his head slowly. "My dick is so not a Hebrew National's weiner, why the hell would I stab /anything/ through it? I'm not going to roast it over an open flame? I don't care how much the Prince Edward liked hot-dog on a stick…lamest piece of jewelry ever." A pause. "Unless you're high." A long pause. "…and 19." He holds up a finger to Daphne. "Do not ask." And then accepts his drink.
Delia was smiling, but then Amadeus shows up with his 'crew' and proceeds to bother her. "Amadeus Deckard… leave me alone!" Each word is punctuated by a poke of her fingernail into his chest. "You bring people over to my house and then expect to be able — You know what? Just get lost!!" With that, she turns to face Russo and ignores the son of Flint.
When Keira descends, Delia's upper lip curls in a slightly leery, expression. She looks down at the blonde and raises both of her eyebrows, "Uhm… yes? It's what the skeeze over there? just finished yelling? across the room?" It's like she's at band camp… or cheer camp… definitely not goth camp.
Russo opens his mouth to respond to Amadeus, but no words come out, instead he just closes his mouth again in a sort of stunned, yet still-smiling silence. It's unusual to have him remotely stunned. But then Melissa interrupts — saved by the goth, although he manages a small shake of his head.
"Hey Missy!" Brad's attention turns easily to Melissa. "You owe me a song!" with a bright flash of white teeth he winks. "I'm thinking something from my childhood — I have this love of… WAIT. NO." He holds up hand as his eyes widen with the revelation, "It's brilliant! Why didn't I think about it before?!"
He frowns at Delia and then peeks back at Amadeus, "Hey. Look. I was just trying to help the kid out." And that's all she is. A kid. Even if she has reminiscent hair…
Abandon all hope ye who enter here. The line above the door is so welcoming, how could one _not_ poke their head in for Karaoke? You'll either have drunken goths singing Cure songs, drunken frat guys trying to impress said goth chicks with something by Nickelback (and failing quite, quite horribly) or some interesting combination of the two with about fifteen more thrown in for good measure.
It's why Jaiden came, after all. That and the fact that Delia is here too.
The Australian man enters the place dressed in his casual best - well broken in blue jeans, work boots with steel toes, and a button-down long sleeve shirt with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows.
And his hat. Of course.
Jaiden scans the room for sight of Delia….red hair in a dark club is surprisingly hard to locate.
“Nah, it was Bring Me To Life. Go figure," Melissa calls over to Raquelle. Then she's giving Russo a wary look. "I'm afraid to ask, so I won't. I'll just wait and see when we get on stage. Then I'll still probably be scared. Just remember, I warned you about my singing voice. If we scare everyone off, it's your fault." But she's grinning as she says it.
A hand is lightly placed on Delia's shoulder. "Delia, honey, he's not worth it. Just ignore him and have fun. Sing a song! Find a hot goth to make out with. Whatever you wanna do to enjoy yourself," she says, smiling comfortingly.
"Everything's fine." Amadeus says with a slight frown at Melissa, then looks down at Delia with an even more intense frown. "Keira said your dad's her dad, that's the only reason I brought her there. But you know what Delia? You can be a real fuckin' jerk." Then, he shoots a look at Russo. "And screw you buddy."
He doesn't even acknowledge Keira, instead he's walking up to the stage. "I wanna sing a song." he says before he's out of earshot of Melissa, and looks back one more time. "I'll show her."
Edgar grabs another glass, unlike Smedley's shot, he's got a lowball full of the same grain mash as his cohort. He turns and leans against the bar, spotting Raquelle and giving him a bright smile and raising his glass. Nudging Smedley, he points over to the flamboyant man and jerks up his head. "See tha' guy o'er there? Makes the bes' damn cake I ever tasted." Then he leans in a little and drops his voice enough to be heard by only a few dozen people around them. "They look like bosoms…"
Keira is still staring at Delia even as the girl speaks, her brows raised. Slowly but surely, a smile forms on the woman's face. One hand rests on her hip as she slurps at Amadeus' drink, finishing about half of it. "It's good t'meet you, then, Delia." She tilts her head to one side, lifting her free hand to tap thoughtfully at her chin.
Then, Amadeus goes and blabs, and Keira sneers at him. Before he can walk away, she tosses the remaining contents of Amadeus' drink at him (though she keeps the glass). "Mother fuck, you coulda fuckin' let me do it, you ass-hat." She snarls after him. "God I hate you so much sometimes!" She does the best to clear the scowl from her face and make herself appear as neutral as possible when she finally turns back to Delia. "Yeah…what he said. My mom says that your dad is my dad. That means you're like…my sister." She frowns.
Amadeus earns nothing more than another shake of his head before Brad is reaching for Melissa's hand to drag her onto stage. "C'mon! You owe me — we didn't even get to go rollerskating and I've need to get you singing before you insist that there's too many people desperate to sing — "
Once the pair reach the stage he makes his selection and that familiar 1950's song streams through the machine. Russo can't sing, there's no denying this, but he can yell. Very, very loudly. The song has one lyric: and it's yelled… repeatedly. Fortunately, Brad knows this one word very well. Mischievously he arches an eyebrow at Melissa before he yells that lyric on beat, "TEQUILA!" Her drink. His drink. It only seemed appropriate.
Once Daphne is handed her drink, she takes a sip, surveying the group and looking just a little fidgety. The alcohol might calm her down but for the fact the bulk of the drink is Red Bull. A sip isn't enough for this crowd, though, she decides, as tempers seem to flare, so she takes a healthy swallow, before shaking her head at Raquelle.
"Nope dot com," she tells him amiably. "You going to sing? Do you take requests? I can see you doing some Prince maybe, or hey, maybe 'Thriller,'" she suggests, smirking at her favorite stylist. "I almost went dark the other day, again, red or brown, but that guy up there? the one … can you call that singing? It's a one word song… anyway, he talked me out of it."
Amadeus gets a less than friendly look from Melissa, and while she may have said something, may have kicked him out, she doesn't get the chance. Instead she's being dragged towards the stage. "Wait, what? No! Not yet, I was gonna get drunk first," she protests, frowning as she ends up on stage and staring out over the crowd. She's not at all shy, she's spoken in front of the crowd at this club more than once. But that's not singing.
However, when she recognizes the first few beats of the song, she busts laughing, and barely manages to get out that first "TEQUILA!" She shakes her head and grins at Russo, but she 'sings' along with the song, even if it's more just yelling. Between yelling, she mutters to him, "You could've told me I wouldn't have to sing!"
"That was going to be…my next guess." Raquelle hollers in response to Melissa before smiling softly to Daphne. "Do I wha-sing? Oh honey, of course I don't sing." He smirks a bit and narrows his eyes. "Why not just get a few streaks? I think you'd be adorable, even /more/ adorable than your little Beep Beep Pixie ass is." He winks.
His attention does go to the stage though as he stares and then he stares with a slow blink. He gives an encouraging wolf-whistle though and takes a sip of his drink, eyeing Daphne. "See? Even you could do that."
Amadeus gets a glass smacked into his back, and he squirms, reaching behind to rub his spine. "Fucking…" Leaving the glass on the floor, he heads back to the bar, scowling at Keira. "You don't have to be such a jealous bitch, just 'cause I want her and not you." He of course missed the point about sisters, keeping his voice lowered in an attempt not to make more of a scene.
Smedley sniffs as he focuses on Raquelle, then arches an eyebrow at Edgar. "Bosoms?" he says in a much louder voice, apparently missing the cue that they were in conference. "You mean like…" and he makes a vague gesture, his fingers splayed as he watches Edgar for affirmation, his chin tucked. "…Cake?" With a shake of his head and without waiting for a response, Smedley reaches behind him to grab his second shot, but he doesn't throw it back.
Boobs aren't the best thing for a man in his condition to be dwelling on, as helpful as Edgar may think it is. But boobs is the topic on the floor, and Smedley isn't going to shy away from it. "The hell does he know 'bout that," he murmurs, eyeing Raquelle again. He adopts a more somber expression then - one with less glower and more self pity - and polishes off shot number God Only Knows.
"TEQUILA!" Brad yells again before turning to face Melissa with a snicker his own. He attempts to take a sip of his drink and almost misses his cue only to lower it and yell, "TEQUILA!" He turns to face her before raising his voice around the music (yet not into the microphone), "Ha! I didn't want to make people's ears bleed! And you have to — TEQUILA! — admit that this is song is awesome at — TEQUILA! — any age." He winks at her as the song comes to a close.
Lacing his fingers with hers, he lifts their arms into the air before leading her into a non-too-graceful bow. "For someone who can't sing, I think you did well, Miss," he teases.
"Me a jerk?! I have to move again because of your stupid a— " But Amadeus is already walking away, Delia's venom is directed completely at Keira. The shorter woman gets a narrow eyed look as the redhead just sniffs and rolls her eyes. "Lady, I already have a sister that I can't stand half the time. I don't need one that's friends with the biggest JERK in the entire country." Yes, that word is punctuated just for Amadeus.
Turning her back on the tattooed short person, Delia stands up on her tiptoes as she spots a familiar hat in the crowd. The redhead raises her arm, almost smacking a person with a face like a pincushion in the head as she waves toward the entrance. "Jaiden! Jaiden over here!" Thank god for small (large) mercies.
There's no doubt that, laughter or not, Melissa looks relieved when the song is over, and she bobs the shortest bow in existance before heading off the stage to let someone else take their turn. "That wasn't singing. It was yelling," she tells Russo with a grin. "And what did this have to do with roller skating, hmm? They're totally different things! And c'mon. Couple friends I want you to meet," she says, heading towards Daphne and Raquelle.
"Well, the only other song I can think of that takes that amount of raw talent is 'Louie, Louie' maybe," the speedster teases Raquelle, taking another healthy swallow of her cocktail. "I think I'm in spectator mode tonight, toots. And no streaks. The point was to blend in more, not look like a platinum zebra, Quelle Belle."
She claps for the duo finishing their duet after setting her glass down on the bartop, glancing a little warily at the other end of the bar where people are arguing.
Keira rolls her eyes up toward the ceiling. "Amadeus, shut up or I'mma start some shit. This ain't the fuckin' time." She makes a motion as if to shoo him away, a look of distaste on her face.
Then, another denial of relation. Keira frowns at Delia's back. She doesn't move to follow the girl, but she does call after her: "It's not a matter of needin' a sister or not, princess. There's the simple fact that you an' I have the same blood runnin' through our veins. I'm here, and I ain't leavin'." She taps her chest over her heart. "Can't run from the truth forever!"
Rolling her eyes, Keira turns back toward the bar, ordering herself a nice harsh scotch on the rocks.
Jaiden migrates through the gyrating crowd to where the calling, waving redhead stands, nodding to anyone who gives him any notice, side-stepping a pair of goths who, somehow, are making out heavily to Teqila. "Crowded house, ain't it?" Jaiden says to Delia with a grin as Kiera yells out from the bar, causing a bit of an eyebrow quirk and a scooby-doo-esque 'buh' "I thought you just had the one sister. Lucille."
Shrugging, Edgar tosses back more of his drink as he addresses the cowboy again. "'Oo cares? Best damn set o' chocolate taits I've e'er tasted." Edgar's eyes glaze over as he sighs in fond remembrance of the rich, moist cake, the gooey frosting… and that little glittery pasty that he wasn't sure he was supposed to eat but did anyway. "If Lydia could make cake like tha' I don' think I'd e'er le' 'er outta the kitchen." The image of the painted lady in the kitchen is enough to scare him sober though. With a violent shake of his head, the carnie lets out a creeptastic 'eeuuugghhhh' and slams back the last of his glass.
"You liked it! Annnnnd everything has to do with rollerskating if you exercise the right logic… Ah ha! I've got it! Music. People request songs at the rollercade and here they butcher them?" Brad counters to Melissa with a half smile as the pair approach Raquelle and Daphne. "It's almost the same thing…" The smile grows, however, as his eyes narrow with recognition at Daphne. "Hey Blondie! You didn't change your hair colour!" There's a pause before he adds, "Small world, I guess." He brings his drink to his lips before turning to Raquelle and extending a hand, "I'm Brad."
Toru finally deigns to look up from his now second drink, watching Keira and Amadeus and company and lowering his head with a small sigh. God, you people. Downing the rest of the drink in one go, he pushes it away from himself and stands up to stroll along the bar towards the group. Gives Delia a mildly subtle lookover, then looks to K+A. "Ladies," and yes he's also addressing Amadeus as such, "I am getting fucking sick of having to be the adult in this relationship. Y'all are older than me, maybe you oughtta fuckin' act like it, aight? Lemme have my goddamn innocent youth for once! Cool your asses down and leave the Delia chick alone, she prob'ly didn't come here to get all accused and shit."
Melissa arches a brow and looks between Daphne and Russo. "Huh. Well, that makes it a bit easier. One introduction instead of two," she says, grinning. She takes a moment while that's being done to get another drink, tequila of course, and to glance towards the rest of her buddies, as if making sure they were having a good time.
While she may not notice the arguing that's going on, one of the bouncers does. He heads over to Amadeus and Keira, a big guy, but then, you'd expect that from a bouncer. "If you two are going to cause trouble, I'm going to have to ask you to leave," he says flatly, and there's no doubt that there won't be much asking actually involved.
Melissa arches a brow and looks between Daphne and Russo. "Huh. Well, that makes it a bit easier. One introduction instead of two," she says, grinning. She takes a moment while that's being done to get another drink, tequila of course, and to glance towards the rest of her buddies, as if making sure they were having a good time.
While she may not notice the arguing that's going on, one of the bouncers does. He heads over to Amadeus and Keira, a big guy, but then, you'd expect that from a bouncer. "If you two are going to cause trouble, I'm going to have to ask you to leave," he says flatly, and there's no doubt that there won't be much asking actually involved.
"Levis," Daphne nods to Russo. "Nice singing there. Truly a musical genius. Voice like Velveteen," she says somberly, before adding, "or maybe velveeta." She raises her glass to him and Melissa, before downing the rest of it.
There's a very noticeable dart of her eyes toward the door that Melissa knows is par for the course with Daphne.
Smedley only has five years on the man by his side, but that's clearly the difference between them. While Edgar groans in delayed disgust following such a remark, it has the cowboy fingering the glass in his hand as he stares into it. It's empty in the name of mercy is it empty. "Damn you, Ed," he snarls, turning back around and motioning for the bartender to fill his glass once again. When his turn comes, a short staring match and a handful of bills mean that Wes comes away with both a refilled glass and the black labeled bottle of Jim Beam.
"Booze loosens your mouth too much," Smedley says as he throws the shot down his throat and abandons the glass to the bar. He has a bottle now. Probably because he has mean eyes right now, and is clearly here to get smashed rather than pick up chicks or dance. Or sing for that matter. A smile cuts across his mouth, and he leans his head back. "I betcha they'd all shit themselves and run if you got up there and belted out some Roy Rodgers."
If looks could kill, Keira would have just made Toru drop dead in his tracks. She suddenly is leaning close to the Japanese boy, almost kissing distance, looking right into his eyes. "You can shut up, too. I ain't fuckin' accusin' her of nothin', I'm just tellin' her th'truth. This is none of your business." She smiles pleasantly to the boy, then straightens to peer up at the bouncer.
After a moment of composing herself, she smiles up to him, as well. "No, sir. I wasn't gonna be any trouble at all. I just met someone unexpected, and my temper got the best of me. I won't do anything else, promise." She smiles cheerfully up at him, now perfectly fine, apparently. She turns back to Toru, reaching down to grab his wrist gently. "Toru, you be my drinkin' buddy tonight. We can sing a song together."
Raquelle takes a sip from his drink and rolls his eyes. "Oh c'mon honey, do you honestly think I'd let you leave my salon looking weird? Puhleeze. It hurts…it really hurts that you'd think so little of me…" He fakes a sniffle and pouts as Melissa comes up…with a man. He just stares at this Brad person, eyebrows lifting as he just gives Melissa a a /look/ and then back to Brad. "Oh! Hello gorgeous, I'm so glad to meet you! Always a pleasure to meet another one of Melissa's gay friends!"
He takes the offered hand though and squeezes it gently before letting it go and adjusting his hat before tilting his head back as he notices Amadeus walking away, sighing softly. "I HAVE A PRESENT FOR YOU AMADEUS, SWING BY THE SALON TO PICK IT UP!" He even blows a kiss after him and then looks back between Daphne and Melissa and Brad. "So what, I buy underwear for people I don't know…don't judge me."
"Hey," Delia breathes with a smile as Jaiden drifts up. Lacing her fingers with his good hand, she nods in answer and then purses her lips together, "I do only have one sister, Lulu. I don't know who that woman is, but she's not my dad's kid." Taking a deep breath in, she closes her eyes and then exhales all the tension and badness away, "Goozfrahbah~"
Once done, the redhead smiles up to the Australian and lifts her eyebrows. "So what are you going to sing tonight? I have a whole list of songs. Will you sing with me? At least once? I'm really good. I promise. I practice all the time."
"We aim to please, Blondie," Brad winks before finishing off what was Delia's drink. "And believe me, my singing has been called worse than Velveeta-like." He winks as he peeks back at the bartender and then glances at his now-empty glass.
For the second time tonight, Russo is rendered momentarily speechless. He opens his mouth so speak only to shut it again and tilt his head at Melissa. "I'm… not… gay…" it's not said as a question although there is an air of skepticism behind it. "Thank you though? I'll let my producer know — she'll probably appreciate the assumption, must mean she dressed me well, right?" He flashes Raquelle his well-practiced smile. The underwear comment earns another temporary gape. When he reanimates, he makes a request, "Can I … not be one of the strangers you buy underwear for?"
The bouncer doesn't look convinced, but he slips back into the crowd. Melissa, on the other hand, is just taking a drink when Raquelle calls Russo gay, and she starts coughing as the liquor goes down the wrong tube. A moment later she's cracking up. "Jesus, Raquelle. He's not gay. And you haven't bought me underwear. Then again, I can do without a smiley face thong, though it looked adorable on you, sweetie. And when you gonna sing? You must sing."
Toru stares Keira right in the friggin' eyes when she gets all close to him, refusing to back down though he is nonetheless pretty startled by the sudden closeness. Even restrains the urge to yell at Amadeus, instead letting Keira speak her piece and just shaking his head when she turns to the bouncer. When she holds his wrist, he glares, pulling it away. "Look, mom, 'Mad might be into that freaky dom/sub shit but I ain't puttin' up with no shit from no bitch. Go sing with your girlfriend." Gesture toward tiny Deckard. "You two were made for each other."
"I don't want no fuckin' dildos!" Amadeus yells back to Raquelle, then vanishes into the crowd. He hasn't left, instead he's likely going to hit on goth girls. Forget those other women!
"Roy Rogers? Tha's the guy wi' the 'orse named … uhhh…" Snapping his fingers a few times, Edgar points a finger gun at Smedley and smiles like he just won Final Jeopardy. "Trigger, righ'?" He glances up on the stage and sniffs a little bit of a laugh. "I go' a twenty tha' says you can' do it. An' if you do.. I'll go up an' sing the unicorn song… comple' wi' motions." He's a betting man, and this one sounds pretty good to him. There's no way in his mind that Smedley would get up there and croon country.
Just no way.
"…oh cutie." Raquelle purses his lips and gives Brad a once over. "I didn't say you were well dressed…hehee, I know its rare but trust me. There's a lot of my people who dress like Rachel Zo's evil twin with bad taste." He presses a hand to his chest. "My bad, you're so lucky you look lickable when you're tossing back your drinks and flashing those silver screen smiles." His nose wrinkles as he makes his 'awwwlittlegigglehowprecious' face and then it drops as he just smirks.
He winks to the man and looks back to Melissa. "…yes, but honey you don't look homeless and when I walk into Victoria Secrets I get this…flash forward of my daughters." He takes a deep breath. "Growing tits." He gasps in a quick little breath and shudders. "Daddy, daddy I need a bra. Daddy…Daddy I need a tampon. Daddy…dadd-" He cuts himself off though as he hears the yell from Amaedus. "…Daddy…please don't shove your copy of cosmo up the homeless man who just found his daddy's ass…you're too pretty to go to jail…"
A long pause as he blinks. "What? Hunh? What were we talking about there, I zoned out and temporarily tapped into my bitch pool…" Blink Blink.
Jaiden watches the departure of not-sister before sidling up to the bar and ordering a single-cask bourbon on the rocks - something that'll last him the evening with the alcohol involved, requires slow drinking, and gives him an air or mystery as he holds the rocks glass in his right hand; the one in the sling.
Drink in hand, Jaiden turns to Delia with a shrug. "You may be wonderful at singing, but me, I've not done it any more than in the shower, and even then, the acoustics in my bathroom are horrible. I sound like a Vietnamese family butchering a cat when I sing, more or less….a little more bass than that, but you get the idea."
Tampons. That has Melissa glancing towards Edgar and cracking up again. "Jesus. You poor thing. And…dammit. She disappeared!" she says when she looks back and Daphne's gone. It's not a surprise, but it's still a bit of a disappointment. "But yeah, Raquelle, don't worry. When they get that old, I'll help. It's just kids I'm nervous around, not teenagers. And they'd have to be teenagers to need bras. And Edgar can buy them tampons!" she says, that last comment said in a raised voice so it carries to said tampon-buyer.
"Unicorn song?" Smedley squints at Edgar, then shakes his head. "Y'gotta learn t'bluff better, Ed. Ain't no song you know that's called the Unicorn Song, and iffin there is, you ain't got the balls I thought you did." He takes a swig from the bottle and sighs, shaking off whiskey face before he holds it up to offer the other man a refill of his glass. "Also, ain't worth twenty. Crowd like this'd crucify me. Could teach 'em a lesson'n music and do some Skynyrd, though."
Frowning, Keira flips Toru off. "Fuck you." Shaking her head, she makes her way over to the bar, ordering a nice stiff drink. She's not going to leave said bar until she's nice and drunk.
There's another flicker of a smile as Brad tries to keep up with Raquelle's words. His cheeks flush at the comments, but he manages not to gape this time, instead shaking his head, "Well maybe you can teach me how to dress then?" His eyebrows raise as he reaches into his jacket and extracts a card, "Or our audience. I'm on this show…" he shrugs to fill the void and details of his show, like that should be adequate, "…anyways… call and I'll get you in touch with my producer. I think she'd like to meet you." Beat. "Or anyone that calls me gay." His smile tightens with good humour.
A blonde girl who looks barely over the age limit to drink, who seems to have had a few too many already, ends up on the stage, pushed by her friends. After looking around, she starts singing 'Barbie Girl' without the music, and with her own dance routine.
Raquelle watches Daphne leave before eyeing Melissa and chuckling softly. "Well let me get them that old first, then we'll talk about-" He pauses. "Sorry, Edgar will not be teaching my girls how to put /anythin-/" Then there's Barbie Girl in the background and Raquelle just holds his head and takes a deep breath. "REWIND." He inhales and exhales and then reaches out to take the card from Brad. "Come and see me or I'll come and see you honey bunches of not gay. Give you a shave, touch up your hair, explain to your producer that there's no way in hell you could be gay…" He smiles and then looks over to Melissa. "Life in plastic, it's fantastic!" He exaggerates before throwing back the best of his drink. "C'mon Barbie, Lets go party!" Then mimes choking himself.
When that song starts playing Melissa looks like someone just stabbed her right in the ear. "Jesus Christ. She had to pick this? Quick, someone go shove her off stage and put on something better! And Raquelle, I just said buy them, not teach them how to use them. He thinks they're nose plugs. Go figure." She grins at Russo then. "He'll make you look good. I don't let anyone else do my hair now."
Letting go of Jaiden's hand, Delia lifts herself up on her tiptoes and gives him a chaste peck on the cheek. She spins away from him and jumps over to Brad, grabbing him by the hand. "C'mon Pro! We're goin' up!" Then, dragging the television personality by the arm, the redhead weaves through the crowd and up onto the stage. "You know how to rap, right? Of course you do.. you did an awesome version of Tequila." Either the young woman is tone deaf, or she really doesn't know bad singing from good yelling.
When the duo gets up on the stage, she leans over to the DJ and whispers something. Delia gets a look of disbelief… a double take… and then a shake of the head as he pops the song on. The amateur athlete tosses the spare mic to Russo and then lifts the first one to her lips.
"Awwww yeeeeaaahhhhh boooyyyeeeeeee…" Lyrics are spinning across the little television but she's not singing along. Until…
"Get buzzed, get drunk, get crunked, get fuuuuuuuuuuucked up~ Hit the strip club don't forget ones get your (ohmygoddoireallysaythat?)~"
Amadeus looks up as soon as he hears Delia's voice. Normally he's one for swooning and thinking how adorable her bad singing is, but the song choice… the enthusiasm… it's like a brick to the head that smacks him dumber than he usually is. "What the fuck?" he all he can say as he's feeling up a goth girl's ass and getting smacked, just gaping up at the stage.
Looking between Raquelle then Melissa and back again, Russo quips. "It's decided then, I'll come see y — " he's cut off as Delia tugs him to the stage. "I don't really know how to do anything to — " but the music has started, whether or not Brad knows how to rap. He shoots her a flicker of a smile as his face reddens. His smile turns sheepish as he decides to own this, even if it's far from his forte.
“Get fucked, get sucked, get wasted, shit face'ted~ Pasted, blasted, puke drink up, get a new drink~ Hit the bathroom sink, throw up— " there's little rhythm to his lyrics, but he does have the motions down, punctuating each word with an awesome sway and arm wave. Even if they suck, they may as well make a show of it — nothing like tone-deaf people trying to rap.
Melissa blinks when Russo gets stolen away by Delia, but hey, he did the same thing to her, so it's all fair! She leans against the bar, right up until they start 'rapping'. Delia's is amusing, judging by the grin, and her little mumbling has Mel laughing and shaking her head. When Russo joins in, the laughter grows in volume and she props an arm lightly on Raquelle's shoulder. "God. I never thought they'd pick that song to sing. "
Luke was bored, and this place seemed to be crowded. Therefore, he decided to go in when he walked past. There's a few people he vaguely recognizes, but most are strangers. Eh, that never bothered him before. Hands shoved in his pockets, he notices the one on stage is someone he knows. Smirking, he makes his way through the crowd to where she'd see him. Hi Delia! Remember him?
Raquelle just wraps an arm around Melissa in a small half-hug squeeze thing as he stares at the stage and slowly raises an eyebrow. "…somebody isn't getting laid or is getting laid too much. Whoever she got with that made her feel /that/…" He makes a face. "Probably gave her crabs…" A pause. "Or she just wants to be lil' kim…either way…" He watches Russo. "…please tell me you don't want to sleep with him, I won't judge you if you /do/ but good /lord/…."
Amadeus turns around when Keira walks up, still looking rather pissed, and a bit shocked up at Delia again. He sighs, noting how wobbly Keira is, then moves to wrap his arms around her. "God, you're so fuckin' pathetic." he says almost affectionately, then leans in, locking his lips with her's.
Smed's disbelief is taken like a challenge. Already feeling a little good about the wager, Edgar pulls a few bills out of his pocket and slaps a few of them down on the counter between them. "There's a 'undred… I do know a song 'bout unicorns. Bu' I don' think you'll sing." The two people up on stage receive an amused glance from the carnie, who is actually bobbing his head along to the beat of the song. Though the content of the song gives him a little bit of a pause. "Y'think I could ge' my Lydia teh sing sum'thin like tha'?"
Up on stage Delia is belting out the lyrics untimed, without rhythm and quite out of tune. What she can do is dance. She's actually very good at that part. "Shake that ass for me~, shake that ass for me~" And she does, gyrating and wiggling up on the stage, much to the chagrin of some of the patrons. "Come on girl~, shake that ass for me~, shake that ass for me~"
Toru certainly doesn't seem sorry to see Keira go! He does watch her, though, out of some morbid curiosity or.. something, and when he sees Amadeus kiss the chick apparently something is confirmed, because he just sort of snorts and nods to himself. Uh-HUH. That figures. So his attention is turned back to the stage, where he resumes gawking at the couple singing. "…Why is a white chick rapping in a goth club?" He turns to the bartender to order a shot of rum, making his way gradually toward the edge of the stage to wait for Delia and Russo to finish. It's— painful to watch.
The abrupt change in conversation has Melissa blinking up at Raquelle. "What? Where did that come from? And what's wrong with him anyway? The dancing?" she asks, looking to the stage and cocking her head as she considers Russo. "But I barely know him. Met him like a week ago, though we did go on a date. A fake one, really. Hell, got a fake proposal out of it too," she says, grinning again. "And let's not talk about getting laid, since I'm not and haven't for months."
Keira very briefly kisses Amadeus back, before she pushes away from him and continues her wobbly way out the door, albeit with her hand wrapped around Amadeus' wrist. Somewhere along the way, she kicks the heels off and grabs them, shedding a good six inches from her height. "I wanna get out of here. Get away from that little princess." She snorts at Delia on stage. "T'hell with her."
A hundred is a hundred, and Smedley arches an eyebrow at it. "On one c'dition," he slurs before he clears his throat, gripping the neck of the bottle so he can point at Edgar. "They start throwin' shit, y'gotta come up and make sure I don't end up gettin' piereced where needles ain't s'posed t'go." He takes a final swig of the bottle before he sets it on the bar and holds a hand out to his employee/drinking buddy. "Deal?"
Raquelle sighs and offers the woman a kiss on the cheek unless she moves away. "It doesn't matter honey, I just want you to stay safe." He smiles softly and goes back to watching the stage with a slow shake of his head. "You know…I lived in Japan when I was very little and my parents owned a Karaoke place…" He sighs softly. "I knew Michael Jackson before I knew how to sing my ABCs…"
Brad is also dancing with the words, not gyrating like Delia, but trying to thug it out… in his suit. Which isn't thug. He grins broadly as he furthers the song, "I ain't leavin' without you bitch~ Coming home with me~ And my boy, and his boy, and his boy, and his girl~ haha, NateDogg." He finishes off with by crossing his arm over his chest and attempting a thug pose before bursting out in a spiel of laughter. He turns to face Delia, motioning for her to take a bow, "Good for you, Kid. That was awesome — I think you deserve a medal." He winks before giving her a quick squeeze of her shoulder and stepping off the stage back to Melissa and Raquelle.
When he reaches the pair he utters a quick apology, complete with that toothy grin, "Sorry, bout that. I told her I'd sing with her." He winks again.
Melissa gives Raquelle a curious look. "Why wouldn't I be safe? And you should sing, you really should. And teach me Japanese to go with the Mandarin that Ling's teaching me." She looks back to Russo and smiles, shaking her head. "It's fine. But again, that wasn't singing," she points out.
"Fuck this noise." Amadeus says as he heads out the door with Keira, leaving poor Toto behind without a ride as they head for his van.
Grabbing Smed's hand Ed gives it a firm shake and nods in confirmation of the deal. "'Righ', I still don' believe you're goin'teh do i'." Pushing himself up off the bar, the carnie starts playing bouncer, pushing people out of the way in order to give the cowboy a clear path to the stage. "G'wan, ge'yer tin poked face outta my way 'fore I kick you inteh nex' week." The goths seem to take it as a sign that moshing is in order and as the rap dies down, they get a little pit going in the middle of the dance floor.
As the song winds down, Delia takes a flourish of a bow and yells a big "Thank you! Thank you!!" To the jeers of her audience. She doesn't even seem to notice that they're not cheering. Spying Luke, she gives him a tense smile and a small finger wave.
When Brad leaps off the stage, she follows suit, her cornflower skirt coming up a little too high. Not enough to show Britney, but enough to garner the attention of some of the more laughable people in the bar.
Luke is standing right next to the stage, maybe he's at an angle to take a peek since she seems to be busy singing and bootyshaking. He's not being obvious about it, but he's not trying to hide either.
"Oh honey, you know I can't sing! Whatever would I sing?" Raquelle drawls before eyeing people as they come up and he quickly stares at Delia. "Oh! Honey! Lil' Betsy! Your yoohoo's looking for a solo, c'mon baby…just tug it down a little bit. You're just a cute as can be…" He motions towards her skirt discreetly and smiles a bit to Brad. "Got the gangsta out of your system baby? Or do you need Lil' Betsy to back that thang up a bit more for you?"
Once the bartender delivers his shot to him, Toru tosses it back in one gulp and swallows heavily. Liquid courage propels him up onto the stage where he picks out his song and stands at the mic, looking pretty awkward for the duration of a shreddy guitar intro. Orange-haired Japanese boy in brown Brooklyn parrots shirt, cargo pants and Union Jack Chuck Taylors. He sort of bobs his head and grooves a little until the lyrics start, at which point both hands go to the microphone and he closes his eyes, stopping just shy of screaming into the mic. "Murdoc is God! Murdoc is God! Murdoc is God! Tryin' to fiiiiiiiit in! Murdoc is deaaad! Johnny is deeeaaaad! Murdoc is God! Tryin' to fiiit in!"
With the agreement sealed with a handshake, Smedley retrieves the bottle, which was half-full when he purchased it, and stands up. He's slow about it, and it's a good thing too - he's had enough that the world is a little shakey beneath his feet. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he starts toward the stage, but seeing Toru mounting the platform, he detours near the DJ in order to look at the list of available songs. There is a gaggle of giggling goth girls gathered around it, but an offering of the remainder of the whiskey scatters them, along with Smedley's general "old man creepyness" factor. He's not really that old, but to a twenty-two year old, most everything over thirty-five is ancient.
It suits him just fine, anyway. He leans against the table and peers at the book, squinting to make the words on the page focus. He knows enough about karaoke to know he's better off picking a song he knows, so he doesn't have to rely on the screen.
"It was her choice!" Russo states defensively, but the smile remains as he glances from Melissa to Raquelle to Delia and back again. "Yeah, watch the skirt, Kid." He's not as flowery or coloruful in his instructions as Raquelle, but they're there just the same. "Order another Shirley Temple." It's an odd instruction from a man who drinks like a fish, but it's there just the same. His smile breaks across his face at the newest song, "This is awesome."
"It's Raining Men?" Melissa suggests to Raquelle with an innocent look. Then she grins at Delia and Russo. "Glad you guys are enjoying. I know I am. More the listening than the singing, but it's still enjoyment. And don't mind Raquelle, he's just got daughters, so he's protective," she says, giving him a quick hug and fond smile.
Delia's face glows a brilliant red when Raquelle and Russo point out the glaringly white legs that are being shown off to the club. "Oh my god… " Placing one hand to her hot cheek, she uses the other to tug the seam of her dress down to a respectable length. Thank goodness it wasn't hiked as high as that other one at Burlesque, that one was barely enough fabric to declare itself a belt, let alone a skirt.
Looking around the bar, the redhead searches for Jaiden's hat among the crowd. When she doesn't see it right away a small frown creases her forehead and she winces. "You don't think Jaiden saw and left me, do you?"
After a brief musical bridge, Toru takes in a deep breath and slides into the next half of the song. He keeps his mouth a little further away from the mic this time, but volume doesn't go down any. "Murdoc is God! Murdoc is God! Murdoc is God! Tryin' to fiiiiit in! Murdoc is dead! Johnny is dead! Murdoc is God! Tryin' to fiiiit in!" Second verse, same as the first!
Once the lyrics are over, Toru is left standing there a bit awkwardly again during what feels like a too-long outro, and as it approaches the end he leans back into the mic for a very stilted, "Uh, thank you." Vague half-bow and he makes his way offstage.
"NAh. Your fella wouldn't have left, you aced that, Kid," Russo clucks his tongue and nods as he tugs on the bottom of his jacket. "Besides, if he left because of that" he motions a thumb towards the stage, "then he's not worth your time." He claps too enthusiastically when Toru is finished the song.
"Missy, it's been a slice and lots of fun, but I have an early morning…" His lips twitch into a broad grin as he steps forward to squeeze her hand. It might be a small sign of affection but for him it's a leap. He lingers a moment, locking eye contact with her as if he's tempted to say more, but instead reverts to his standby, "I… guess I'll see you Saturday…?" his cheeks flush slightly as he finally releases the hand. He shoots a quick salute to Raquelle, "Nice meeting you, man. I'll be in touch for that shave and haircut…" the words elicit two more "…two bits?" He rolls his eyes at his own level of cheesiness before turning to Delia, "And you. Stay away from the booze Kid. Honestly. A life of pain." His eyebrows raise seriously before he's retreating for the door.
The blush of Russo's has Melissa laughing as he heads off, and she shakes her head and grins at Delia. "I'm sure he didn't leave you, hon. He's probably around here somewhere." Raquelle gets another squeeze. "If they didn't cry because I got up there, you're safe. Besides, I was too drunk to remember your singing the other day!"
Placing two fingers of each hand into her mouth, Delia lets loose a sharp whistle as her cheer for the Asian boy on the stage. It's long, it's loud, it's pitch is enough to break glass. It certainly commands attention, enough that Jaiden actually finds her again and slides up to the bar behind her. Luke's call has her wincing and shying up next to the large Australian at her back. "So gross…" Though she doesn't do anything to defend herself against the young man. Except one thing… "Uhm.. I don't know if he's old enough to be here." Then again, neither is she.
There's applause, nonetheless. It's hard for music like the Gorlliaz to land flat on a crowd like this. Smedley takes the small set of stairs onto the stage rather than try to valut onto the raised platform. Railings are a drunk man's friend. When he has the mic in hand, he clears his throat and peers across the dance floor to the bar. "I'm gunna apologize for this up front," he says, his eyes narrowed in a squint. "But it's all so that dirty carnie sittin' over there," he he points at Edgar, a wry smile creeping across his face, "So that carnie'll sing y'all a song about unicorns." Coughing once more into his fist, he nods to the DJ.
The intro isn't long, but it's in sharp contrast to Toru's choice - an acoustic bass and a tinny guitar. And then Smedley launches in, closing his eyes slightly as the words and melody roll out of him. "Cowboys ain't easy to love and they're harder to hold. They'd rather give you a song than diamonds or gold." Even funnier than a man singing country in a goth bar is the fact that he's not half bad, probably due to the alcohol in his system. "Lonestar belt buckles and old faded levis, and each night begins a new day. If you don't understand him, an' he don't die young, he'll prob'ly just ride away."
That smile curls a little tighter as Smedley looses himself in the music, shaking his head a little as he goes into the chorus. "Mamas, don't let your babies grow up t'be cowboys~! Don't let 'em pick guitars or drive them old trucks. Let 'em be doctors and lawyers and such. Mamas don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys, 'cos they'll never stay home and they're always alone, even with someone they love."
"No need to tug it back down. It was the best you've looked in a while!" Luke calls jeeringly up to Delia when she starts leaving the stage. "I know someone who could use a girl like you." ok, not creepy at all.
Even though Smedley's voice is pretty darn good, there's a few boos because of the choice of song. It's quickly stopped though, for some odd reason. Everyone that doesn't actually applaud the cowboy seems to wind up missing from the audience. By the time Smed's song is into the chorus, Edgar's conducting the goths like a maestro at an orchestra. They're waving lighters to and fro while he directs them with a wave of his finger.
The people who were booing? They're trying to get back in after being tossed into the dumpster.
"Oh man. Rap and country? In my club? Maybe this wasn't such a good idea," Melissa says, frowning up at the singer. But she doesn't jump up on stage and stop it, just downs her drink and asks for another. "Raquelle, no country, please? Pretty please? You like me that much, right?"
Toru is actually blushing a little when he comes offstage. Applause wasn't expected, Delia's whistle even less so — and it is followed by a cringe and ear-coverings and a "Holy shit, woman!" He wanders over towards the girl, sliding onto a nearby seat and facing backwards, elbows up on the bartop all casual-like. "So hey, like, you and Madcat have a fight or somethin'? Or is his thing with you one of those things where the dude's totally into the chick and the chick doesn't even know the dude's around?"
"Cowboys like smokey old pool rooms and clear mountain mornings, little warm puppies and children and girls of the night. Them that don't know him won't like him and them that do, sometimes won't know how to take him. He ain't wrong, he's just different but his pride won't let him, do things to make you think he's right." A few people chime in on the second heartfelt rendition of the chorus, but once the song has ended there's more gracious thank-the-lord-that's-over applause as there is actual appreciation.
With a grin, Smedley points at Edgar again. "Get'cher ass up here and sing about unicorns, ffucker. And give me my hundred bucks." He's earned it, after all.
Luke snorts. "Your singing was shit anyway." he retorts to Delia. "Maybe if you took off your skirt it'd be more exciting." Leer. At any rate, he looks around and rolls his eyes. "This entire thing is lamer than spending an evening at a nursing home entertaining smelly old people." that must have been one of his community service activities.
Considering that Melissa planned this, and the club is her baby, Luke's insult of the evening has her glancing towards him, smiling…and sending a sharp burst of pain his way. It's brief, but it's there. "Luke, dear, don't make me kick you out. Or stick a foil hat on your head," she says sweetly.
Giving the goths in the audience a really good glare, Edgar receives quite a bit of cheers as he climbs up on stage. There's something intimidating about a man that can toss you in the trash before you even know you're off the dance floor. Grabbing the microphone, he clears his throat loudly and then places a hand to his heart. "I'm goin'teh sing a song 'bou' unicorns now…" Another dangerous look is tossed to one of the goths that decided to laugh. Two fingers of Edgar's free hand are pointed at his own eyes and then flicked and pointed at the laughing goth's. I'm watching you.
The music starts off, a pleasant little ditty, and Edgar fixes the microphone into its stand to free his hands up for something a little more important. Song actions. "A long time ago, when the Earth was green~ There was more kinds of animals than you've ever seen~ They'd run around free while the Earth was being born~ And the loveliest of all was the unicorn~"
Then come the actions. Waving his hands in front of him, the carnie begins to sing with all his heart. The motions prompt some of the more fearful goths to follow suit, they don't want to wind up in the dustbin again. "There was green alligators and long-necked geese~ Some humpty backed camels and some chimpanzees~ Some cats and rats and elephants, but sure as you're born~ The loveliest of all was the unicorn~"
Raquelle wolfwhistles and applauds with a soft laugh. "YOU SING THAT SONG BEAUTIFUL MAN." Then he coughs and orders a water, nope. he didn't say that. He said nothing at all. Please ignore the fact that he's hunched over cracking the hell up over his glass.
Smedley's grin splits his face and he laughs freely, still on stage with Edgar. He composes himself enough in order to attempt to do the motions along with Edgar when the chorus comes around again, but he's about a half a second too late with each one. This is what he needed tonight, and it has been achieved - drunken tomfoolery to get his mind off of dark, looming ambiguities. By the third chorus, Smedley is singing along - and he isn't the only one.
Quite a number of the younger folks in the crowd know all the words, and even the motions - perhaps a holdover from when their oppressive conservative parental units made them go to some species of summer camp. Kum ba yah, bitches.
While Raquelle is laughing and whistling, Melissa is staring in shock that Edgar would sing about unicorns. "I don't believe it. Someone slipped something in my last drink, because I know that he's not singing a sing about unicorns," she mutters, shaking her head and moving around the bar to grab a bottled water.
Delia gets a little (read a lot) weirded out by Luke's comments and she inches even closer to the large man behind her. Toru's conversation would be a nice reprieve except she doesn't know who he's talking about, which might illustrate his point a little further. "Who? Who is Madcat?" She's actually genuinely confused.
When Jaiden leans over and whispers something into her ear, a small smile creeps across her face and widens into a rather brilliant little smile. Taking his hand quickly, she waves a quick goodbye to everyone around adding, "We're— We have to go… Now." Either drunk old men singing about unicorns made the two a little frisky or it was something else entirely.
The young woman shoots Luke a glare as she passes by, "Just… shut up."
Smed actually joining in is a big surprise to Edgar, he somewhat expected it from the little girls in the audience. Like Toru, he refers to them all as girls. When the song is over, the carnie claps the cowboy on the back and jumps off the stage. The goths part the way to allow them through, either because they're afraid, or because they're just really glad to be off country and Irish folk songs. The next act has to be better.
Smedley follows after Edgar, though when he lands from his jump down from the stage he staggers a bit. But moving Edgar's wake is healthier than trying to carve his own path via the stairs. "Pay up," he says once he's resting back at the bar, even as he searches the surface for the hundred Edgar had slapped down earlier.
Toru starts to answer Delia, at least. "The guy yellin' at you earlier!" Kind of like how he is now, only Toru isn't being so violent about it. But then Delia and Jaiden run off, leaving Toru to stare at them bogglingly. "…Seriously? Unicorns get y— whatever." He shrugs, orders a rum and coke, looks over to Luke with a raised eyebrow. "You look like a dick. Didn't I break your face once?"
The hair stylist smiles and shakes his head. "…it takes a really brave couple to sing something like that in public." Then he eyes Melissa. "You owe me." Before making his way on to the stage after spending a little while selecting the song and muttering softly to the DJ…he takes some time even, squinting at one point and worrying his bottom lip before eyeing the machine and then eyeing the people who are gathered, moving to take the mic and he rests a hand on his hip. "Can I please have your attention please-yoohoo…yes…everybody, even you - /damn/ boy, you're wearing more eyeliner than me stop imitating a hoover, pull up your pants, and ask the lovely hoochie dressed like a Adam's Family stripper what she has between her legs again because I'm pretty sure Morticia didn't have an adam's apple despite her last name…"
He got side tracked there just staring at a couple on the dance floor before quickly shaking his head. "Apparently…I'm supposed to sing for you all, so go easy on me now okay? I'm real nervous like. But I'll do anything for my good friend…the first woman I've ever sat with to oggle half naked men. This is for you…" He toes the ground and toys with the microphone, batting his eyelashes and offering a shy smile in Melissa's direction before winking and grinning, laughing and getting the song started.
"Unicorns, Edgar? Really?" Melissa asks once he makes his way in her general area. When Raquelle heads towards the stage she shoots him a grin, and lets out a loud whistle of her own. Until he goes off on a tangent and she just dies laughing. "Jesus Christ, Raquelle," she says, the words strained since she's still laughing. "I really do adore that guy," she adds a moment later, grinning and shaking her head.
Glancing at Melissa, Edgar reaches into his pocket and pulls out the bills he'd pocketed before they made their way up to the stage. "Wha'? Y'don' like unicorns?" The question is posed like he's asking the petite woman if she's insane or something. She's a chick, all chicks love unicorns. It's a rule or something. Slipping the bills to Smedley, he points a finger gun at the smuggler and lofts his eyebrows, "You ge' the nex' round. An' the one after tha'." Apparently, Smed's got the roll to buy all night.
It's a shame he gave away a quarter of a bottle of whiskey. He smirks at Edgar and claps the man on the shoulder before he orders to beers from the bar. It's whatever they have on draft, so when the tall glasses arrive, Smedley is careful lifting it off the bar. He watches Melissa as he drinks - it takes a moment for him to register who she is. "So wait. That ain't Lydia. Who'she? Why the fuck you livin' with a gal ain't the one you want?" Logic eludes the cowboy, but his voice is loud enough to be easily heard by Melissa.
The lovely piano start to the classic song, but he does a remixed version. Thank You Nina. Thank you Muse. For some reason, the song of choice isn't light hearted or foul. Or about virgin horny horses. His head is bowed before he starts singing…somethings he cannot help. "Birds…flying high, you know how I feel. Sun in the sky, you know how I feel. Reeds driftin' on by you know how I feel…" He looks up slowly, free hand resting lightly on his thigh.
How exactly Raquelle is feeling does start seeping into his words, his gift wrapping around each word to milk the emotion from it and splash it on whoever happens to be listening. Grabbing attention, sharing the warm…and almost laconic sort of just feeling at ease. "Its a new dawn, its a new day, its a new life…foor mee…" It almost seems like he gives a soft chuckle before declaring melodically. "And I'm feelin' good." Emphasis on the /good/ baby, emphasis.
"Dude. Do I look like the sorta girl who likes unicorns?" Melissa asks Edgar, one brow arched. Smedley gets a longer, less amused look. "I'm a friend. You never had a roommate before?" She then gives her attention to the man on the stage. She may not know he's evolved, or what his ability is, so she's able to just be pleasantly surprised. And calm. Go, go persuasion! "Damn. He's good," she murmurs.
Edgar's completely nonchalant and calm as he listens to the cakemaker up on the stage. "Y'know, 'e's go' some 'ot buns too." Leaning back against the bar, he takes a long drink from his beer and licks the foam off his top lip. He seems rather distant, he must be thinking. "All women folk like unicorns, et's a rule'er sum'thin. An' li'l fluffy kittens…" Giving a spazmodic shake, willies travel up Edgar's spine and out in a long 'eeuuugghh'. "I 'ate cats. 'Ate 'em more'n I 'ate dogs. No' your's though, Melissa… 'e's a peach." Fuzzy, almost ripe for eating…. Folks get hungry, don't judge.
Turning to Smedley he nods in agreement with Melissa, "She's me 'ouse mate, I can' live wi' Lydia… she lives on Roosevelt Island. Wi' a bunch'a cats. They don' like me too much. Keep 'issin'."
Listening is all Smedley can do as soon as Raquelle starts singing. Whether it's intended or not, the baker/hair stylist's voice has the intended calming effect on the smuggler, and as pensive as he looks, the tension that's been his his jaw muscles for most of the night during those moments of rapt contemplation is gone. He grunts a vague affirmative at Edgar and glances to Melissa as if she were speaking some language other than English. He takes a sip from the glass of beer, then relaxes his arm to hold the glass at his thigh. "S'good," he says with a nod that jerks him backward slightly. "Damn good."
There is thankfully modulation in the voice, some notes are carressed…other notes are groped. Raquelle works through each verse, making full use of the stage with a little saunter, some points of the song causing him to stop to reach for the note, grab it and grit it out soulfully…all vocally! Side effect, his gift does the same to those who listen…spreading ripples of them good feelings out without having to say anything nasty.
Towards the end of the song however…more emotion goes into the words, "Stars when you shine you know how I feel…scent of the pine you know how I feel. Oh freedom is mine! And I know how I feel..It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life…for me…" And while he sings things escalate in both pitch and volume and yet remains controlled. "And I'm feeling, feeling, feeling…" Okay, and so this note that he hits…well he holds it for quite some time. Then comes off of it riffing…and then in quite a contrast, very softly. "Goood…"
Lets let the man catch his breath now…inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, remove his hat, inhale…walk off stage and head back for the bar, deep breathing and blinking, gripping the edge of the bar. Breeeathe.
"No hating or eating Jerry, Edgar. I'd hate to kick you out when you're so much fun, and a sweet guy to boot," Melissa says absently, still watching Raquelle rather than either of the men she was speaking to. A moment after that last note, she applauds, the first time she's done so this evening. But his song was good! So it had a little help, but so what! "Damn, Raquelle. And you said you don't sing? That was awesome!"
Coughing into his hand, Edgar clears his throat a few times to mask the emotion that Raquelle's song managed to stir. "T'was good," his voice squeaks a little at the end, betraying he's been trying to mask. Giving Smedley a clap on the shoulder, he pushes a little to see if his friend can actually stand upright. "We goin'teh sleep on the floor 'ere mate? Or we goin'teh find a way back teh Sta'en?" The carnie's a little wobbly too, not wobbly enough to keep from ordering another beer though. While looking at the bartender, he lifts two fingers and then points discreetly toward Smedley.
Edgar's hand on his shoulder snaps Smedley out of the pseudo trance Raquelle's song put him in. "Huh?" He blinks, bleary-eyed for a combination of reasons, then shakes his head to clear it. "Hell no. You're too drunk. Y'd wreck my yacht, and I ain't'gun'let that' hhap'n." He sniffs, then carefully lifts himself off the stool and tosses what money is needed to settle the tab onto the bar.
"Y'can sleep on m'couch if y'don't wanna hitch a ride with yer girlyfriend here." He jerks his head toward Melissa and Raquelle, but he doesn't specify just who he means.
Raquelle licks his lips, swaying a bit and taking a deep breath as he smiles softly to Melissa, pressing a finger to his lips. "Shhh, sweetie. Secret gets out and I won't be able to pretend I'm tone deaf." He sucks on his finger tip, looking between Edgar and Smedley with a squint and a shake of his head. "True love…doesn't it feel good? Enjoy it or I will track you both down and stone you with my kicks." He sets a card down on the bar though, two of those shiny black cards with purple writing. He points to them both with his licked finger, then down to the cards, "Free hair cuts or spa treatments." Before turning back to Melissa. "I need to get home and screw my boyfriend, I promise I'll call you after okay? There's a special about Malaysian Hookers on National Geographic at 11, hopefully you'll be home by then right?"
He slips his cellphone from his pocket, tapping something into it. "Love you honey." He blows a kiss to the two men and air kisses near Melissa's cheeks, whispering. "If you don't pick up the phone, I'm going to flip out worse than a church mother finding her 16 year old in bed with the altar boy." Another air kiss. "And then my boyfriend will call me bad words in Spanish." A pause. "…on second thought…not such a bad idea…" He murmurs his goodbyes before heading for the door with a saunter, calling out. "Still pick up!"
Off he goes, bringing the cellphone to his ear. "Hello? Bo-hey baby…you busy? - Wanna be?" - Gentlemen, Ladies, Raquelle has left the building.