(Untitled)

[bitingmybullet]

Gwen's back fucking hurts.

She's been up since God knows when, lugging boxes of lights and sound equipment-- how many of these things even work, anyway? You don't get to check when you're salvaging, and it's not like she's got the cash or the connections for anything super-reliable. Just getting this place hooked up with power was a trick

Comments

[undermyheel]

Claire does not usually take the time to do things like this herself. If she needs intelligence, she get someone expendable to do it. This is a different situation, though.

So, three inch traveling-heels and leather jacket over her silk white business skirt and low, breast revealing top, she walks into Gwen's place.

"Gwen," she says, in greeting. She does not bother trying to hide herself.

[bitingmybullet]

Gwen smells her before she sees her, hears her before she sees her, and something in her goes intruder.

She doesn't even bother anymore to reflect on how much she hates the smell of vampires. By now it's a given.

She turns very slowly, so the sensation of hackles rising can fade, and she can resist the urge to go for the throat. (My place mine get out.)

"Hey."

Casual.

"We're not open yet."

[undermyheel]

"So I heard," Claire says. She's walking around, the snap of heels on the floor loud. It's a telling sound. She's not a woman who walks in fear and feels the need to be silent.

It's a confident sound.

"This looks like it has," she pauses, purses her lips a little. "Potential."

[bitingmybullet]

Okay.

That's a compliment. Or should probably be taken as such.

Okay, okay, so she's walking around on Gwen's floor. Big deal. It's the floor.

(Besides, Gwen recognizes her-- or thinks she does. You get to know who runs the show after a while in the city. She also guesses she ought to be flattered that she knows her name. Or remembers it, whatever.)

"Well." As she watches her walk (strut). "Thanks."

[undermyheel]

"How long are you from being open?" Claire asks.

The stage looks unstable, she raises her leg up - aware of the view that move provides, the view of garter clips and the top of her black stockings. On top of it, she tests the stability.

Won't do for a band.

"If you need help setting up, I can send over some boys." At the edge of the stage, she steps back down gracefully. "We have some carpenters who could help make this more... feasible."

[bitingmybullet]

Gwen shrugs. And doesn't look at the garter clips.

Ugh.

"Depends. A week, maybe."

She knows the stage is crappy, but she doesn't have the resources or the manpower right now to make it much better.

... Of course.

Claire's offering.

"Nice of you to take an interest," she says, coming around to the front of the stage. Her own footfalls are soft, unobtrusive. Almost like she's still in toe shoes.

[undermyheel]

Claire smiles. It looks almost benevolent, if you squint and have bad vision. She plays with her necklace, wrapping it around one finger.

"I like to take an interest in the community."

She has never asked if Gwen knows who she is. She assumes that Gwen does. That is how she works.

[bitingmybullet]

The wolf in her (or maybe just the bitch) has a real snicker over that one.

Take an interest.

Gwen smiles back. She's ... more benevolent than Claire about it.

"Good to hear."

[undermyheel]

"Of course," Claire says, pacing to one of the newly painted walls. "The offer would mean that vampires would be welcome in your... club."

She puts her hand on the wall, comes away with a little pain and makes a face.

"How can I help out with something I can't get inside?"

Claire poses the question and turns to Gwen with a smile.

[bitingmybullet]

... Is that all she wants?

Well, no problems there. Really. Even if the smell of Claire's kind of people makes Gwen want to run outside and howl at the moon.

"Hey," Gwen says with a shrug, "I'm not out to exclude anybody."

She smiles back.

"Bad for business."

[undermyheel]

"Of course you aren't." Claire nods. Goes to the bar, still resembling the time it used to be the waiting place of the rich and richer.

"You going to have blood on tap?"

Innocently. Like she was asking about martinis.

[bitingmybullet]

Gwen does not growl.

Her voice is perfectly level and perfectly civil as she says, "Wasn't planning on it."

Even if there is something in her that sings out for fresh blood-- it still prefers the hunt, the chase, the kill.

It freaks her out, when she lets it.

[undermyheel]

"You want to think about it." Claire does not hop up on the bar, instead, leans against it casually, tilting her head.

"It might be easier to get your supplies of other drinks if you cater to everyone. Also might help with the possible violence. We tend to be more accepting of insults if we've had something to drink."

She slides off her coat and drapes it across the bar.

[bitingmybullet]

Gwen leans back against the bar too-- casually, possessively, because it's hers and Claire better know it.

"I'll keep it in mind," she says. And glances down at Claire's coat.

"Of course, some menu items might offend some sensibilities."

[undermyheel]

"Gwen," Claire growls the name, low and sultry at once. "Be reasonable. Vampires get in here with the heat and the music and the other people? We get a little... excited."

She cocks her hip, placing one hand against it casually. The silver bracelet has diamonds in it. It used to belong to Tiffany's.

"You want to avoid violence? We get some blood, we get a lot more... relaxed."

Her gaze is suggestive.

[bitingmybullet]

There may be the slightest snarl, quickly suppressed.

"Point taken."

Gwen doesn't take a deep breath, because that'd be obvious. She focuses on Claire's coat a second, counts to three.

And glances back at her, cool.

"So where, exactly, would you suggest I stock up? It's not really what you'd call my area of expertise."