The day was coming to a close as they opened the club, and it was a day that had just gotten weirder and weirder by the gorram second. Saffron had woken up with a boyfriend who was suddenly gay, had come across an ex-husband who was uncommonly cheery, and had made out with Major Perfect himself (who was no longer acting near as perfect) - and that
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The music picks up a notch -- well, a lot of notches, actually -- and I hop down from the stage, landing on one of the spindly circular tables that litter this place. I go from table to table with the sort of agility that's impressive -- but not too impressive. I can't risk compromising my secret identity for the sake of getting even, after all. I pluck someone's drink right outta their hand -- "Thanks." -- and take a swig from it before I toss it down to a completely different someone. I don't hear the sound of shattered glass, so I assume they catch it. Not that any of that matters.
Leaping from one last table, I land with a foot propped up on the back of a chair, using the momentum to slide forward on it a good ten feet, before it's my stop, so to speak. Straddling the chair, I pull it out from under myself, give it a spin and then kick it away. Just as fast as I left it, I'm back on the stage, right beside MJ, and I flash her a look that I’m sure is rife with meaning. Then I'm gone again, propelling myself back out into the crowd, grapevining towards where I left my guests just a minute earlier. I pull off my jacket in one smooth movement, and I hurl it towards the stage.
"Now dig on this," I say, snapping my fingers a couple of times to slow the beat down to a more reasonable pace. My other hand I extend to Wanda, silently asking her to join me in this dance.
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"That was all for her?"
After reflecting on that for a moment, she just smirked and leaned over to plant a kiss on Peter's cheek. "Hell of a show, wasn't it?" she added, not waiting for an answer before sauntering off to rejoin their table.
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