We're With Mr. Varlane


delilah_icon.gif elaine_icon.gif magnes_icon.gif sable_icon.gif

Scene Title We're With Mr. Varlane
Synopsis Magnes provides sweet a ride to a trio of ladies on their way to a club.
Date June 7, 2010

New York City

Gun Hill, and a nearby club.

It's great timing, after the long blizzard and getting his car stored somewhere safe so it could be gradually restored. One could say it purrs like a kitten, but it's more like a kitten with a motorcycle engine stuck in its throat.

First he stops by to pick up Delilah, ushering her and her bump into the backseat, then when they finally arrive at Gun Hill with the car he assured was an old car he got a good deal on and had restored, he turns the radio up and beeps.

Carry on my wayward son. There'll be peace when you are done.

Both Elaine and Sable will hear it from the apartment, coming from the polished and restored black 1969 Impala. "Come on!" he yells from the rolled down window, wearing his long black zipped up coat over the outfit he's chosen to go dancing in.

Ssssslide, and up goes the window of Sable's apartment. Out sticks an unruly mess of dark hair and a pair of yellow eyes. "Aw, hell," she calls down, catching sight of Magnes and the car he's just rolled up in, "Yer fuckin' kiddin' me. Where the hell have you been hidin' that thing? Hold onto your fuckin' horsepower f'r half a goddamn second." And just as quickly as she appeared, she's gone again. The window slides shut.

Sable double checks herself in the bathroom mirror, worrying at the tie she's only worn once before. Her duds are precisely the same she wore when she had Delilah over for dinner - they are the only nice clothes she has. She has only one decision to make - does she wear the black vest she just bought, or not? She puts it on. Peers at herself. Takes it off. Peers. Puts it back on. She just can't trust her own judgment. She needs an actual girl's opinion.

So her next stop on the way down to the classic car awaiting them is the door to Magnes' apartment, behind which Elaine must be dolling herself up. Sable wraps on the door and calls through, "Hey! They're here. Get your lovely self out here, I need your goddamn opinion on somethin' before I show my sorry person!"

Indeed, Elaine has been busy primping back in Magnes' apartment, and as soon as she hears Sable's yelling, she hurries towards the door, opening it up to see what all the commotion is about with Sable. For someone who was formerly homeless, Elaine certainly cleans up nicely, complete with classic little-black-dress and stylish heels and some sort of wonderful smelling perfume.

"Okay, okay, I'm here. What d'ya need? Don't wanna leave 'em waiting, after all."

The backseat is fine, as long as there is a seatbelt in this classic contraption. Delilah is dressed in a pale yellow, ruffle-skirted dress with dark stockings and matching yellow shoes, a similarly colored ribbon in her hair. It's simple, but effective. Around her neck is a delicate gold chain of connected flower heads, a twinkle in the dusky light. She waits there in the back, her coat on her lap, fiddling with the little yellow straps around her ankles.

"I love this song. Do these shoes make my ankles look fat?" Delilah mutters this over the back of the front seat practically in Magnes' ear, head tilting to see if the other girls are coming to the car.

"Nothing makes you look fat." Magnes is still not quite sure how to answer that question as he turns to look back at her, curling his lips up into a warm smile. "You're beautiful, Delilah, don't worry. We're all gonna have fun tonight."

The formerly homeless are in force tonight. Some adapt better to civilization than others, however. Sable still manages just carry herself like the white button down and dark slacks don't fit her, even though they do. Sable glances up and down Elaine and beams, "Lucky fuckin' bastard," she comments, referring to Magnes, "You look like a million hon. Me, on the other hand," she takes her vest by the front and tugs on it, "Tell me honest, arright? You'll do me no fuckin' favors sparin' my feelin's on this. Be straight with me: does this vest make me look like a goddamn waiter?"

It is, to Sable's credit, a fair concern. Her outfit might well be interpreted as… waiterly.

There's a slight laugh, and perhaps a hint of color on Elaine's cheeks as she takes in the roundabout compliment, but she takes a moment to give the vest an appraisal. "I don't think it's terribly waitery. I dunno, I think it's kinna sexy, if you ask me. You should totally have a fedora, though. It'd give you that hot out-on-the-town look. And if you don't have the hat, make sure you loosen the tie, and unbutton a button or two of the shirt.. it'll make you look less waiterly and more like.. well, it's just a sexy look, alright? Not sure what to call it, but it looks good."

"I feel it." Delilah pouts in the rear view mirror at him. "And it feels I stubbed my toes, only toes are a euphemism for my nipples." She only tells him the truth, massaging with uncertainty at the front of her dress. "Do you know where we're going? Or is it a surprise?"

"I, uh…" Magnes is staring, trying to think. He knows what's under there, and if it's getting any better… He quickly tries to shake the thoughts from his head, quite literally as he shakes his head from side to side. "You're not fat… I mean, we're going to…. that place, dancing and stuff…"

"Fedora?" Sable says, blinking, "Aw shit, fedora. Uh… hold on!" She sneaks right past Elaine and dives into Magnes' apartment. There's a sound of rustling, a little more rustling, then… silence. When Sable reappears, she has a felt fedora upon her head and a scowl upon her face. "You will never, ever ask me where it is I got this from, arright?" she says to Elaine, fixing her with a pointed look, "Let's get this show on the road."

And down she goes, taking stairs in leaps of three or four at a time, the impact of her feet echoing through the stairwell like blows on a kettle drum. She pauses only a couple times to make sure she hasn't lost Elaine, but forges on, dipping into an entry room to grab her winter coat and throw it on - it's still pretty chilly out there. Then she's out the door, and skidding up to the curb, sticking out a hand and stopping herself short of an actual collision with the car. She tugs open the back door, pokes her head inside, beaming. "Hey, y'all," she says, and swings herself into the car, closing the door behind her. She scoots up to Delilah and plants a kiss on her cheek before giving her an appreciative glance up and down. "Jesus, you look better every time I see you, hon." She punches Magnes' upper arm, "Shame on you, upstagin' me with this classy fuckin' car. What kinda friend, huh?"

Elaine won't ask. After all, who knows what odd things are in Magnes' closet. She makes her way down the stairs after Sable, pulling on her coat. After all, she's not gonna freeze. It's bad enough with her legs mostly bare thanks to the dress. She peers at the car, raising an eyebrow. "You aren't a secret millionaire or something, are you? Cause this really is classy." She wiggles her fingers as a hello to Delilah before she slides into the front seat, shutting the door behind her.

Delilah drops her hands when the girls get there, smiling softly when Sable compliments her and plants a kiss on her cheek. "Oh, you're full of it. You look great. I love that vest." Sounds more like Dee is trying to convince herself of Sable's incessant flattery- on the other hand, it is meant. "I told him you guys would be surprised." She pauses her speaking to mumble to herself, a knot on her brow and hands going back up to her chest.

"Does anyone have any of those little painkillers on them? I've got boob cramps." Well. Not really. "I'm sure they'll go away in a bit anyway…"

"You girls look great! And Elaine, I love that dress on you." Magnes pops the locks of the doors, allowing his friends to enter. He steps out to hold doors open for them, and when everyone's in, he gets behind the wheel again and revs the engine up. "I hope you like it, this car was terrible when I first got it."

"Full of it? Full of what, pray fuckin' tell?" Sable asks, brows rising. She takes the middle passenger seat, neglecting to put on a seat belt. She tips her borrowed hat to Delilah, "Thanks. Sorta worried it made me look like a waiter. 'cept now I just figure it's my way 'f lettin' you know I'm at yer service." Ooo… corny line. But well meant.

Sable is given a godsent excuse to examine Delilah's breasts, and does not dare waste the opportunity. She taps her chin, considering them as a critic might a particularly fine new work of art, "Well, poor things are must be strainin' 'gainst their confines. Considered lettin' out yer bra a notch? Don't got any pills on me. Wish I did, though. Could use some reds b'fore we go raise hell!" She beats her open hands against the headrests of the front seats, "Let's get rollin'! Mebbe we can hit a CVS or somethin' on the way?"

Elaine settles in the seat of the car, stealing a glance back to Delilah. "Sable's right. Maybe seeing if you can loosen it? We could always try and fix the bra somehow so it works. Or, y'know, like Sable said, the drugstore." She glances over towards Magnes, grinning at the car. "You need some gadgets in this car, though. A car you're driving doesn't feel right without some sort of homing radar or somethin'."

"It's not-" Delilah doesn't bother trying to finish, laughing at Sable's chimpanzee antics and leaning over to pull her seatbelt around her waist and buckle it. Unlike miss Diego, miss Trafford knows to go with safety first. Which in itself could be irony- just maybe. "It's probably not my bra, it's my milkshake bringing all the girls to the yard. Something like that."

When Delilah sits back up in her seat, she is considering the idea of getting help for it. "We can try fixing my hooks- do you want to, Sable?" Lilah is giving her not only an excuse to look, but now she is asking for bra assistance and turning at the waist, looking back over her shoulder.

"We're fixing bras now?" Magnes asks after giving Elaine a peck on the lips, distracted by Sablea nd Delilah now. "You know, I could just, I don't know…" He holds a hand up, wiggling his fingers. "Gravity our breasts… I mean if Elaine's alright with that!" Awkward. "Hey, that hat…"

Sable gives Magnes an absolutely fatal glare, shaking her head. Not. A word. About. The hat. Dammit. "Eyes front and center!" she growls, "Get that pedal to the fuckin' medal. I got this handled." Oh yes, does she ever. She carefully unzips the back of Delilah's dress, an inversion of the way a good date goes, and dutifully unclasps the bra with a perhaps unsurprising deftness. She's actually way better with the bras of others than with her own.

There's a quick glance just to make sure no one is peeking, and then Sable leans forward. Attempting covert canoodling may not be the height of manners, but Sable is not claiming to be a charm school graduate. She sneaks a kiss on that spot just behind Delilah's ear just as she rehooks the bra, one notch looser. "How's that feel, hon? Better?" she asks, voice just barely above a suggestive murmur.

Don't worry, Elaine isn't looking. However, she is grinning ear to ear at the canoodling in the back seat, simply because she doesn't even /need/ to know what's going on back there. All she needs to know is that she's got the two of them doing /something/. So she'll grin and assume the worst. Or the best. Depending on your point of view.

There is a suitable draft when Sable goes through the motions, and Delilah giggles lightly when she is kissed there behind her ear. Oh, stop. She peers over her shoulder at Sable and then back up front. "Okay, enough of this. That's much better, actually. Thank you." Now can we get where we're going, pleeeeaase?

Sable aims a kick at the back of Magnes' seat, though she keeps it light, out of respect for the awesome car. "That's what I'm sayin'. Let's gooooo, we gotta get there before last goddamn call." She leans back, hands clasping behind her head, eyes dead ahead, on the not-so-open road.

Magnes revs his engine when Sable kicks the back seat, roaring like some sort of slick big cat. Then finally they're off, and he actually gets to show his driving skills off, something he rarely gets to do at all. "This car's great. What do you girls think? And it just occurred to me that I'm in a car full of girls, an Impala no less. Does that mean, like… I'm cool?"

"Well, you're cool for a geek, I think." Elaine comments, giving a bit of a grin. "But I don't think you'll ever be 'mainstream' cool, Magnes, sorry. Kinda an area reserved for empty-headed bimbos and overcompensating celebrities. And believe me, we don't want you to be either."

"Cool enough for us, Magnes." Delilah virtually echoes Elaine. "I wonder if that mean's were all cool or just a bunch of weirdos. An inspirational set of misfits, maybe. Like the toys."

"I don't think you girls are weirdos, well, maybe Sable's a little weird. Alright, we might all be weird… but we're still cool!" Magnes turns a corner, the car handling quite well and smoothly. "This car is amazing. You all like it?"

"Well, I think we're all weird enough." Elaine comments. "All got a little bit of something or another that makes us quirky." She chuckles. "But the car? It's incredible. Honestly, it's pretty well done. Definitely a chick magnet."

"Weird ain't a way of bein', it's a state of mind." Just another little nugget of… uh… wisdom? Sable leans over to one side and fiddes with the window crank, rolling it down and getting a face full of cold air before quickly cranking it closed again, blinking like a surprised dog. What was she up to? Trying to keep a look out. "Ain't far, don't think," she assures. She decides it's better to let the glass mediate her contact with the outside, and cups her hands to cut down on glare as she peers out into the city streets. "Yeah, yeah!" she taps the glass, "Up here. Comon'"

It's an odd slice of the population that's gathered at the doors of The Nadir, a club with an ironically hip name. Some are veteran partiers, dying for any chance to make up lost and snowy nights. Others are just locals, who want something to do after all this time. There is no uniform dress code, and no reason to enforce it. The line outside is short, and with a pack of women as large as Magnes is rolling with, they'll be a shoe-in.

As they pull up in the shimmering black Impala, Delilah can't help but feel a little misplaced. "Oh, I've never been here. There a reason you picked it, Sable?" Dee peers curiously out of the corner of the back window, brown eyes reflecting a lit sign above the entrance and bulbs along the face. "…You're gonna look like such a pimp, Magnes."

When Magnes parks near the entrance and shuts the car off, he slides his keys into his pants pocket and unzips his coat, revealing a casual dark-blue suit, the coat unbuttoned but with a blue tie hanging down in front of the buttoned up black shirt anyway. "Well, this is gonna be an experience. I've never really been to a place like this. And hopefully I look better than the pimps I already know."

"Careful, Magnes, you don't have a pimp cane to beat the ladies off with." Elaine comments, taking careful note of the suit. "Cause you do look good." Her gaze flickers towards the club. "This'll be fun. I haven't been to one of these since.. well, since I was in another country, really…"

"No cover, 'n' one dollar tequila shots," Sable answers Delilah, sounding ever so pleased with her reasons, "Magnes, I'll give y' three t' one odds on a drink that some-fuckin'-how Quinn's gonna be the DJ. That's just how my fuckin' serendipity works." Her brows lifts as Delilah gives her a thought. "Well, the boy drove us. Y'all should get on each of his arms. Y'find me a pair 'f sunglasses, I'll be yer bodyguard. We'll pretend yer some kinda big shot. 'Mr. Varlane'! Mebbe we can get into the VIP room." That is, if a place like this even has a VIP room. Chances: low.

Lower than the chances of success for the world's tiniest bodyguard's plan? Debateable.

Delilah allows herself a bit of a laugh. "Okay. We'll see what happens. Maybe someone will actually know him?" Higher chance than one may assume. "Be gentlemen and let the ladies out of the car."

"Well, I wouldn't be surprised if she's DJing. I mean, that's sorta her thing, right?" Elaine chuckles, but she downright grins when she hears the plan. "Oh, you never know. At the very least, maybe we can look good enough to get some free drinks, hmm?"

"I say we do it." Magnes steps out of the car, then walks around to Elaine's side to open the door for her. "Hopefully they won't think I'm some new socialite and put me in the paper. Then again, I've been on the news and the paper, so maybe Delilah's right."

"All press is good press, boy. Comes to it, talk 'bout the fuckin' band," Sable suggests. She piles out of the car and bows as she holds the door open for Delilah, her hand extended to offer her assistance onto the curb - assistance she doesn't likely need, but the portrait wouldn't be complete without the gesture. While her head is down, she darts a quick look at the bouncer, a big rotund man with bags beneath his eyes, likely from many late nights. Sizing him up.

Delilah takes Sable by the hand, using the girl as momentary leverage to pick herself out of the car and put two heels to the ground. She makes it all seem very uptown for the people outside in the line, putting one hand to her dress to smooth the hem as she stands. A second longer is taken to lean over and whisper in Sable's ear. "I'm counting on you to guard my body." One way of seeing it.

Elaine slips out of the car when the door is opened for her, and she glances to Sable. "Yeah, honestly, get your band's name out there.. maybe you can make it big." She suggests, glancing around. "Who knows. Might get you enough press to get some gigs." She moves to take Magnes' arm, whether he offers it or not.

Magnes offers his other arm to Delilah when Elaine takes the first one, after making sure his car's all securely locked, of course. Then he looks over at the short line, and to Sable. "You know, this is so weird, for reasons I'm sure I'm not allowed to say out loud."

"Hold me to it," Sable answers in a murmur. Never has an entendre been so doubled. She relinquishes Dee's hand only because her scheme demands it. Tipping her hat forward so as to better shade her eyes, she saunters up to the front of the line, glancing just once over her shoulder to see that she's not going in alone, before crossing her arms and looking up at the bouncer. It takes the large man a moment to even notice she's there, the hat peeking up into his field of vision. He looks down. Sable gives him a level stare - a feae considering their disparate heights. "I'm here with Mr. Varlane," she says, almost entirely suppressing her accent, "He and his dates are looking for a quiet evening."

Arm hooking in under Magnes', Dee shoots Elaine an impish look past the back of his shoulders. "I know what you mean, I think, Magnes." She elbows him a little, then watching Sable gussy up to the bouncer and puff her own feathers. Will this seriously even work? Or at least make someone think twice? Maybe, maybe not. At least they seem convincing enough.

Right, don't laugh. Elaine can't help but smile though, as she hears Sable's words. She can't help it! It just sounds like such a ridiculous story that she's certain it won't work. Either way, she'll just play her part.. which isn't hard. She contentedly snuggles into Magnes' arm, glancing over at Delilah and giving her a wink. "Yeah, I think she and I have a bit of something in common." She tilts her head at Magnes. "And I bet that really /does/ make you feel weird."

Magnes' cheeks are a little red for a moment, then he just smiles and starts heading in Sable's direction, hoping their plan doesn't completely bomb. "Well, it doesn't make me feel weird as much as it kind of makes me feel awesome…" he admits, shrugging his shoulders, and completely unable to wipe the grin from his face.

Discernment is not something a club called Nadir can afford to show, and a pair of women like Elaine and Delilah would already be enough to get them past velvet ropes. The bouncer regards Magnes and his pair of redheads, and spends only a brief moment trying to place his face. It doesn't matter. If he's famous, you've got to treat him well. If he isn't, so what? The bouncer steps aside and holds the door for them.

Sable keeps up the act, stepping aside and nodding to the other three, giving them the go-ahead. Please proceed, sir. The coast is clear. She is absolutely thrilling inside (IT WORKED! IT WORKED!), but she'll keep it bottled up.

Delilah leans into his other arm, snickering at the smile on his face. She walks with them when Sable gives the all clear, only leaning in to give Magnes a peck on the cheek. "Thanks for the ride. We should do this more often.

As soon as they're stepping inside and out of view of the bouncer, Elaine gives Magnes a playful punch in the side. "Don't feel /too/ awesome about it, cause this'll likely be the only sort of circumstance it'll ever happen in." She gives him a glare, but there's perhaps a hint of truth to it… and then she looks over at Delilah. "We'll just have to share stories about Magnes, now, won't we?" There's a playful, teasing look as she peeks at Magnes out of the corner of her eye.

"Hey! You're totally not allowed… well, I guess you are, as long as I'm in on the joke." Magnes looks down at his pants, possibly imagining the horrible ridicule said parts could possibly endure. But they're in a club now, and he's looking around, curious. "What do we do first?"

Sable gets safely through the door before pumping her fist into the air. “We fuckin' rule!” she exclaims, loud enough to draw some looks from the clientele. She sidles up to Delilah while craning her neck to look around the room, catching Elaine's words and immediately wincing. “Oh comon' now. Spare me my goddamn innocence. Thass my boy yer talkin' about.”

The club is a dimly lit affair, with cheap colored lights flashing, some of them even moving, some with beams refracting off a slowly spinning disco ball. It's a little dingy, but the music is loud, the bar looks well stocked, and people are already thrashing and grinding away on the dance floor. It's sort of a dive, but one of those dives that might just be cheap enough and good enough to start becoming popular. If it's lucky. And if Mr. Varlane decides to put it on the map.

With a craned neck and tiptoes, Sable checks to see who it is is spinning the records. Some big hispanic dude with a backwards pointing baseball cap. Definitely not Quinn. “Magnes!” Sable calls over the music, “I just lost three drinks. Guess that means first round's mine. 'course, I don't have money, so wouldja poney up for an IOU? Y' know I'm good f'r it! Just until I get that job,” she points a thumb at herself, explaining needlessly to the other girls, “I'm getting' a job. Gonna make somethin' of my sorry self.”

"Magnes can handle losing a few dollars." When they are inside, however, Delilah slinks away from Magnes in exchange for Sable, sidling up to connect via linked elbows. "You do realize I can't actually drink, right? Do I have to drive us home?" Then again, the prospect of driving a big black machine like the Impala is promising.

"What kinda job are you looking for, Sable? Cause.. I got a new job and I could see if they have any sort of openings." Well, it'd be hard to get Sable employed there, but.. ah, well. Elaine grins, proud of herself. "Can't believe I landed a job so quick, too. Got freaking lucky."

"Don't worry, I'll stay sober for us all. I don't mind being the designated driver." Magnes looks over at Delilah, shaking his head. "I forgot how old you were for a moment, still hard to believe sometimes."

"Aw hon," Sable says wrinkling her nose at Delilah, "Wish I still had a hookup for green. Knew I guy back in Boston. But the music'll do, I hope. Gal like you don't need to loosen up t' dance." She shoots a look at Magnes, "Age ain't nothin' a good friend with a laminator can't fix f'r yah," Sable says, reaching into her pocket and drawing out her old reliable Massachusetts state ID, complete with dead-eyed mug-shot style picture. She palms it and reaches out a hand to Magnes, rubbing forefinger, index finger and thumb together. Money money.

"I'll be kind t' yer wallet," Sable assures Magnes, "I'm gonna get us those one dollar shots."

Tequlia - the first bad idea in many long lines of progressively worse ones.

And the night is young.

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