At the Catscratch Club -- Evening

[ghostinthecity]

Trying to stay low-profile as a tiny Englishwoman shouldn't have been at all challenging, as Roger expected most people could see clear over and around that body without even noticing. It occurred to him as he got up to the bouncer at the door of the Catscratch that he might have a problem, but Annie, too worked there, and he got in with no

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[weary_head]

Dean entered the Catscratch Club not too long after, pushing his way through the doors with a harassed look on his face.

He walked straight to the bar, catching the eye of the woman there and demanding, "Roger?"

It was the same question he'd asked everyone on his way there.

[ghostinthecity]

Roger was already tidying, putting things into triangles and squares of organization, and contemplating the merit of the doily as a way to lighten up the rather plain counter of the bar.

He turned when he heard his name. And launched himself at his best friend.

"Dean!" he called, arms going around his neck, hanging on for dear life. He and Dean had been accused of being too affectionate at times, but never so obviously as that. He chalked it up to Annie's habits and Roger's opinion of Dean. "Oh my God, Dean!"

[weary_head]

Dean's eyes widened, but his arms came up easily enough, fingers smoothing hair that certainly wasn't any shorter than usual. "What?" he said, proud when it came out gruff and uncolored by the bonemelting relief he felt all over. "You think I don't have enough women throwing themselves at me?"

[ghostinthecity]

"Oh, I'm sorry," Roger said, pulling away immediately as he imagined Angua beating the ever-loving shit out of poor, sweet Annie's body before Roger could scream it's me! His hands found his mouth and he looked Dean over with an overall sensation of oh my, but he pushed it away with a shake of the head, curly hair springing and displacing wildly. "I'm so sorry I didn't come home. I didn't want you to see me. But I cleaned in the night! And I left tea in the morning!"

[weary_head]

"You left me tea?" Christ, he'd thought that was O-Ren. Dean kept a grip on Roger's shoulders, forcing him, ugh, her to look at him. "Next time, make it a note, sister."