In my Element
Caritas.
Perhaps I should take my cue from a certain hobbit of lore and rename the club "There and Back Again". After all that's happened, it would seem strangely appropriate. But if I did something like that I'd just be inviting a Lord of the Rings convention into my club every night, and I don't think a bunch of over-read Dungeons and Dragons fanatics would mingle well with the real life orcs that sometimes slink up to my bar.
For someone who makes a living of reading destiny, I still manage to get surprised now and then. The whole L.A. fiasco? A ball out of left field for me. One that hit me square in the noggin, I'll tell you. It left me dazed and confused like some sort of clichéd teen movie, but then poof! Like nothing had happened, everything is back in place and no one seems to notice that it ever happened. Maybe it's just my little eye for detail that helped me to pick up on the whole disappearing city act, but you'd think more people would pause in what they were doing and say "now wait just a New York minute here! That just isn't normal!" Then again, maybe this is one of those secrets meant only for the humanly-challenged like myself.
Either way, I'm home again, home again, tra la la. Time to gussy up the place and make ready to welcome the world weary into my all singing arms and help them to forget their troubles for just one night.
Only... work with me on this one, we're going to do a bit of stretching here... I don't want to. I'd really like to take just one night off and take a long hard look at my own problems rather than spend my mind consoling every lost soul in L.A. with their own emotional baggage until suddenly I'm the over-worked under-paid bellboy of Hotel Los Angeles. I know, it's my destiny to help the world-weary get a good night's sleep, but what I'd give for a vacation. I've got some deep thinking to do, and it's hard to concentrate when you've got a seven hundred pound Carpathian carrion demon singing Sinatra at you and expecting all the answers to his problems in return.
So what would a fabulously dressed, vibrantly viridian Pylean lounge singer like myself have to think about?
How about shooting Lindsey? There's a good place to start. Or maybe wondering what ever happened to dear old Angel cakes and the rest of the gang? There's plenty of thinking to be done.
So there I was, sitting at my own bar, five minutes from my own grand re-opening, wondering if I could even do this tonight. What happened to the Lorne everyone knew and loved? Does killing one guy who didn't deserve it as entirely as everyone liked to think he did change a guy so much?
No. No, it doesn't. Why? Because the show must always go on.
Downing my martini and straightening my stunning blue and yellow silk scarf, I walked towards the brand new door of my brand new club and opened the doors wide. It didn't matter who would walk through those doors tonight, because they'd all be greeted with the same cheerful smile and charming gentility that was consistent to the Lorne everyone looked forward to seeing.
Here at Caritas, where Lorne always knows your pain.
[open to all]
Perhaps I should take my cue from a certain hobbit of lore and rename the club "There and Back Again". After all that's happened, it would seem strangely appropriate. But if I did something like that I'd just be inviting a Lord of the Rings convention into my club every night, and I don't think a bunch of over-read Dungeons and Dragons fanatics would mingle well with the real life orcs that sometimes slink up to my bar.
For someone who makes a living of reading destiny, I still manage to get surprised now and then. The whole L.A. fiasco? A ball out of left field for me. One that hit me square in the noggin, I'll tell you. It left me dazed and confused like some sort of clichéd teen movie, but then poof! Like nothing had happened, everything is back in place and no one seems to notice that it ever happened. Maybe it's just my little eye for detail that helped me to pick up on the whole disappearing city act, but you'd think more people would pause in what they were doing and say "now wait just a New York minute here! That just isn't normal!" Then again, maybe this is one of those secrets meant only for the humanly-challenged like myself.
Either way, I'm home again, home again, tra la la. Time to gussy up the place and make ready to welcome the world weary into my all singing arms and help them to forget their troubles for just one night.
Only... work with me on this one, we're going to do a bit of stretching here... I don't want to. I'd really like to take just one night off and take a long hard look at my own problems rather than spend my mind consoling every lost soul in L.A. with their own emotional baggage until suddenly I'm the over-worked under-paid bellboy of Hotel Los Angeles. I know, it's my destiny to help the world-weary get a good night's sleep, but what I'd give for a vacation. I've got some deep thinking to do, and it's hard to concentrate when you've got a seven hundred pound Carpathian carrion demon singing Sinatra at you and expecting all the answers to his problems in return.
So what would a fabulously dressed, vibrantly viridian Pylean lounge singer like myself have to think about?
How about shooting Lindsey? There's a good place to start. Or maybe wondering what ever happened to dear old Angel cakes and the rest of the gang? There's plenty of thinking to be done.
So there I was, sitting at my own bar, five minutes from my own grand re-opening, wondering if I could even do this tonight. What happened to the Lorne everyone knew and loved? Does killing one guy who didn't deserve it as entirely as everyone liked to think he did change a guy so much?
No. No, it doesn't. Why? Because the show must always go on.
Downing my martini and straightening my stunning blue and yellow silk scarf, I walked towards the brand new door of my brand new club and opened the doors wide. It didn't matter who would walk through those doors tonight, because they'd all be greeted with the same cheerful smile and charming gentility that was consistent to the Lorne everyone looked forward to seeing.
Here at Caritas, where Lorne always knows your pain.
[open to all]