Bahir, Elias, Illyana, Jackson, Jason, Lark, Matt, Natalie, Percy, Ryan, Vincent
Natalie looks instantly triumphant, and she lifts her voice to call toward a bartender, "Another for me, and on /his/ tab!" with a thumb jutted at Bahir before she turns a laugh toward Bahir in response to is. "Don't be a sore loser," she accuses, leaning forward to claim her second shot. "Someone still has to dance with me, after all--" She breaks off as a sweep of her gaze catches /amusement/ from the eyes of a very attractive woman, and she bristles, frowning.
"You could join--" No, Lark, you don't have cigarettes, remember? She giggles again, then shivers as she and Ryan pass out of the humid heat of the bar's interior to the cool summer night outside. "'s cold," she murmurs in protest. "You sure you'll be okay going home? You're not going to pass out in the cab, are you? I've heard that they aren't very nice about it if you do that."
Everbody' talking-- talkin' pretty loud-- Everbody lookin'-- to stand out from the crowd--
Outside, Jackson waves Lark and Ryan over -- he has detained a cab and holds it against the line of other people /also/ attempting to grab one by virtue of -- who knows. He doesn't linger long, though, posture uncomfortable with Ryan's proximity. "I'll be -- back at the bar," he tells Lark, leaving the cab for them and veering back towards the door.
Elias grins and cradles his second shot before looking over his shoulder at the subject of Natalie's glare. It's obvious from his expression that he's expecting someone else entirely. When he takes in the lovely brunette, he smiles and nods (no recognition here) and turns back to Natalie with a 'ex-girlfriend?' expression
"Yes, I'll be okay," Ryan says, some color finally returning to his skin as they step clear of the bar. He takes in a deep breath of the cool air. He is at least as uncomfortable with Jackson's presence as Jackson is with his, merely giving him an uncomfortable nod before getting into the cab. "Take care," he says to Lark, before shutting the door of it and giving the cabbie his address.
Now it's a ruin-- The joke has worn thin-- And it isn't cool to abuse-- the ability to swing--
When the bartender brings Natalie's second shot, Bahir leans forward to ask for one of his own, paying for both. Pointing at his drink, he says, "Whatever the base of this is," and leaves the details to those paid to know such things. Sliding the depleted fold of bills away takes a minor bit of effort given close fit -- but only minor. /Classy/, not /skanky/. He eyes Elias with a mild scowl. "Sheer quantity of skin," he repeats from earlier. "What if I had taken off my shirt?" (The pants, though? They stay on.) Percy who? Percy what?
Vincent has procured a phonebook from the bartender, and a cell phone, from his pocket. He is on E, for Escort Service.
"You too," Lark tells Ryan. She watches and waves as the cab drives off, then makes a quick dash for the door to the bar. Shivering hard, she ducks gratefully back inside and heads straight for the bar. She catches a glimpse of Natalie in her path and reverses direction suddenly to avoid any chance of running into her again. So, instead she runs into Percy, in the more literal sense of the word. "Sorry, sorry," she apologizes, trying to recover her balance.
Third. It's Natalie's third, and she takes it without hesitation just as the music fades into a sudden burst of familiar, aged strains that, despite their slight cheese, excite a flurry of interest on the dance floor. "You're not taking off your shirt--" Natalie begins before suddenly she perks and turns, hand reaching for Elias' to tug him away from the bar. "Okay, you can't /not/ dance to this song," she begs.
"You just don't want him to change his vote!" Bahir calls after Natalie as she moves to steal Elias away. Third. Whatever. He still has his first.
"It depends. Nipples pierced?" Elias replies, appraising Bahir once more. "Or how about wearing a glittery bronzer?" As if Bahir would need it. He knocks back his second shot as he is dragged away. "Consider it. We'll be back when the song's over - barring any other gems."
Jackson heads back inside, too, after lingering just long enough to see Ryan get into his cab, and his hurried steps take him quickly back towards the bar, too, rather purposeful as he searches for Elias. (He does so without running into anyone, at least not in the literal sense.) He slows as he sees Natalie dragging Eli away, teeth sinking into his lower lip. Instead, he turns a thoughtful glance up towards Bahir. "Do /you/ dance?"
"You like pierced nipples?" Natalie baffles, glancing back over her shoulder at Elias as she tugs him along through the crowd. "And gli-- oh." She abruptly remembers Eli's taste in boyfriends and cuts off before shaking her head and running her free hand back along hair she is not accustomed to wearing loose. "Er. Nevermind. Do you dance? I didn't even ask. Surely you dance, right? What with the whole model scene?" She's rambling a bit, her tongue loosened by alcohol, emotion, and nerves.
Bahir looks mildly horrified. "What? No!" The shirt is of fine enough weave that, if they /were/ pierced, all the dim bar lighting in the world couldn't prevent the spread of such knowledge. He folds one arm across his chest, protecting it from imaginary needles. Scowl dark, if patently false, he bites the straw to take a sip of pink alcohol. As the pair leaves, the expression fades, and he gives Jackson a briefly amused glance. His chin lifts as he swallows, answer coming with a self-deprecating wiggle of his hand. "Ish. Not often."
Still lingering surreptitiously a few feet away, in a way not unlike that employed by /stalkers/, one long-haired brunette watches Jackson approach Bahir with a slightly narrowed amber gaze beneath dark lashes, weight balanced back back on one heel. Drifting a few paces forward, he interposes himself; not physically, but on the approach, and with words pitched to carry despite the, uh, music. "But it has been known to happen."
"Eh. They're fun to play with, but not a requirement," Eli admits with a grin and a glance in Bahir's direction. "And yes! We danced at Norah's party, remember?" He grabs Natalie's hand and gives her a quick twirl before the confines of the dance floor get in the way.
"That's just very weird to me," Natalie admits before she's twirled, something that has her wobbling a little given her heels, and she latches tight to Elias' hand before grabbing at his shoulders and leaning into him for balanced support. Her breath caught, she returns the grin and looks up at him with a breath of laughter as she reminds, "I was kind of drunk, I forgot-- I'm going to be drunk again real soon. Play nice!"
"Has it?" Jackson (whose shirt makes it rather obvious that /his/ are pierced. He has no hint of glitter anywhere, though, at least) turns slightly, head tilting thoughtfully at the brunette's approach, brow creasing with niggling familiarity before he looks back to Bahir, cheerfully hopeful. "Dance with me? Just this song!"
Steadying herself on the convenient shoulder of a complete stranger, Lark finishes her trek to the bar. She switches to something lighter for her order this time, but the same basic alcohol. "Vodka cranberry!" Considering her neighbors at the bar as she wait for the drink, she discovers that she has joined Vincent once more. "Hello again," she greets brightly. "What's the phonebook for?"
"Fine, less spinning." Elias does not want to be vomited on. He does play nice and a bit cheesy (especially since the song is so inspiring), dancing her around some of the other couples but trying to stay in some semblance of free space. "Eh. It is weird - just - well, never mind."
"Hm?" says Vincent, half to Lark, and half into the receiver. His eyes are slow to focus, but once they do, his stumpy left hand is quick to act. It manages to flop the phonebook neatly closed in one swift gesture, and he adds on, "Nevermind, I'm actually not that hungry," to whatever phone conversation he happens to be having before thumbing the 'end call' button. "Ordering a pizza," he tells Lark.
"We can spin," Natalie objects instantly, twisting her fingers to lace through his. "Just, y'know, give me some warning-- I like to spin." She moves with him, more points for enthusiasm and pure enjoyment than the moves to go with her outfit. "What, no, nevermind. What's weird?" she insists curiously.
Youre a teaser, you turn em on-- Leave them burning and then youre gone-- Looking out for another, anyone will do-- Youre in the mood for a dance-- And when you get the chance...
Glance toward the newest intrusion carrying a faintly unfriendly wariness, Bahir takes another slow sip of his drink and eyes the baffling brunette irritably. (Believe it or not, he isn't the most /outgoing/ guy around.) As he looks back toward Jackson, his manner is warmer: stranger, strange; Jackson, known. "I--." And then he looks back again, skimming Percy from toes up to the long toss of dark hair. His eyes narrow. He looks annoyed. He does not look in the mood for a dance. Shut up, music. This makes his clipped, "Fine," all the more inexplicable. But first, finishing the alcohol! He sets his glass down with a trifle more strength then necessary and picks up the shot early placed by the bartender so that he can down that, too. Then he gestures. After you, Jackson!
"Excuse me," Percy says, with a sharp smile and a slight dip of his head. He reaches out a snaking hand to catch Bahir's free hand in his own. The low burn of possessiveness totally inappropriate considering respective relationship statuses, it nevertheless informs the golden glitter of amber eyes and prowled step he takes forward. It also informs the hint of growl that informs the low-throated note of his voice as he speaks. All told, not very feminine. "I actually think Bahir owes me a dance."
"But, eating means you get less drunk," Lark informs Vincent. And drunk is of course the point, right? She's certainly well on her way. "Did I introduce myself before? I can't remember. Sorry I ran off, but Natalie--" She frowns, delicate black brows pulling together. "Do you know Natalie? I'm Lark, anyway." Her drink arrives, pink, but missing any sort of frilly umbrella or fruit decorations thankfully.
Somewhat baffled by Bahir's switch in mood, Jackson is nevertheless not giong to turn down the acceptance. A hint of puzzlement creeps into his cheer, but he turns to lead the way to the dancefloor -- that is, until Percy reaches for his dance partner. "Um." The puzzlement is definitely growing, and his brows knit over his sunglasses. "Excuse me?" He bites down on his lip, looking at Percy with a hint of disbelief, until the masculine voice helps the niggling recognition spread further and he rocks back on his heels, abruptly awkward and uncertain. Oh.
"Nipple rings," Eli admits, his brows quirking. He leads her in a couple more partial turns (no spinning), hands just lightly touching her shoulders and hand as they move.
Natalie settles her own hands firmly on Elias' shoulders, although one finds his hip sometime in the midst of a turn. She sends a sudden grin up at him, amusement brilliant in the flash of dark eyes. She bites her lower lip, teeth tugging at it as she tries to surpress a laugh. "Gosh. /Not/ that big a fan, huh? Good. I always thought they were weird. I like my piercings and tattoos in moderation."
Bahir's fingers barely curl before he turns his hand in Percy's, and pulls down and away. "I really don't think I do. Why don't you dance with /each other/," he suggests instead, a bright and brittle aggression making an unfair target of Jackson-the-by-stander.
"Yeah, I know. I just had that exact thought, so." Vincent wiggles the source of his abruptly ended call, and tucks it away into his still-drying suit coat. No pizza for him. "I don't think I know any Natalies, no. Nice to meet you, though." He eyes her drink. Pink.
"I'm dating someone that may be addicted to them. You just learn to enjoy the - um, distinctive qualities your partner possesses after time." Elias does keep the turns going, something ABBA-esque in the way her hair flops upward and outward with each swinging motion.
Familiar strains fade away (dancing queen...) to be overtaken by more contemporary rhythm, energetic and enthusiastic. Pump it-- Turn up the radio-- Blast your stereo--
Natalie can't help a slightly tipsy snicker as she shakes her head. Her hair /sways/, thank you very much, it does not /flop/. As the song draws to a close she swings out and clings to his hand to execute a slightly wobbly twirl before breaking into laughter again. A pause, and then she's moving again, apparently keeping him for at least the /next/ song, too. "I dunno!" she calls over the music. "I might tolerate, but that's not the same as /enjoy/-- hey, how were the cookies?"
"No," Percy snaps back. He glances at Jackson, but barely for an instant. His focus is elsewhere. Dropping his hand when Bahir pulls away from him, he lifts his chin -- so regal -- and glares. With the heels, he is actually of a height with him, if not a little taller. He is a little slurred, meeting Bahir's anger with a sourer, edgier sort of unhappiness. "Short memory," he accuses. "You owe me one. It's my fucking birthday." For all the masculinity that informs the buried growl of his tone, he really is a lot like a fifteen year old girl.
Pink, and tasty. Lark takes a long swallow, and rather than chew the ice shard she end up with, she holds it against her upper lip with the tip of her tongue until it melts. "Well, I introduced myself. If you don't introduce back I'll be worried that you'd rather I go away. Or, maybe you're a spy. That would be exciting." Wavering on her feet, she leans over to lean most of her weight on the bar for stability. "Though, I don't know who you'd be spying on in here. Lots of people I know, but no international jewel thieves or terrorists I don't think."
Elias switches gears easily. "They were delicious, thank you." He does refrain from slutty dancing, but does enjoy the next song just as much. He leans close and utters, "Sorry about then," between one of the heavier beats. And then he's dancing again.
Jackson rocks back on one heel, looking rather intensely uncomfortable at being brought into the middle of this. "Maybe another time," he says, edging slightly away from the pair. "D'you want another drink, Bahir?" Apparently /something/ in the exchange leads him to think perhaps Bahir could use one.
"I'm not a spy," Vincent promises with level-headed sincerity. He is a little drunk, perhaps, but not yet on his way to really being inebriated. "Vincent Lazzaro. I used to be a detective. Now I'm a private investigator." He offers his good hand over after taking a long sip of his pale drink, and sighs. "I actually followed somebody's husband in here, but I lost him. So I had a beer."
Natalie lifts a hand to brace it behind Elias' neck for a moment as he leans in to speak, and then she pulls back, balancing as she shakes her head. "You're stressed," she returns. "I'm stressed. It's fine. We're friends, yeah?" For a moment her gaze is serious and she forgets to dance beyond a distracted sway as she waits for confirmation.
"What are you, thirteen?" Never mind /fifteen/ year old girls: Bahir won't even afford Percy that much emotional maturity. Not looking away from the happy birthday boy, he addresses Jackson: "Very much so, actually. Just ... in a few minutes. Sorry. I'll be back after this." He turns his hand out in apology, only then glancing toward him. He rolls his shoulder in slight shrug and then looks back. Very like grim, he points Percy to the dance floor. "Go. /Happy birthday/."
"Private eye. Almost as good as a spy," Lark assures. "Plenty of good movies though not as many as spy thrillers. Dashiell Hammett!" She remembers the name a little triumphantly, not giving thought to whether it will actually mean anything to Vincent. "Why'd you stop being a detective?" Tact? what? Any chance of that left a while ago.
"Yes. Friends." Eli replies, his hands settling lightly on her hips. There's a second there, in that closeness where he leans a fraction of an inch forward, but a smile - a somewhat manufactured one - interrupts the seriousness and he leans back again, shifting the pause back into dance steps since she's attached to him now.
Jackson nods, and slips back to the bar, slotting himself in by Lark as he leans over to flag a bartender, point towards Bahir to order two more shots of -- whatever he'd had. He leans back against the bar's edge, gaze turned out towards the dancefloor and his carriage still fidgety -- less with uncomfortableness now than simple restlessness. There is music. He is not dancing to it.
"Fuck you," Percy says. Predictably! He catches Bahir by the hips with both hands in a forward step, rather than pursue the dance floor option immediately. Catching his lower lip his teeth, he almost smiles, but not quite -- it reflects in his gaze, twists his mouth more grimace than grin. "Nice pants," he says. Insistent, he winds his fingers through Bahir's and turns to pull him along behind onto the dance floor.
Turn up the radio-- Blast your stereo-- Right now--
"Yeah," says Vincent, who rubs at the bridge of his nose, and then over his brow. "That. I was kidnapped by some psychopaths who found out I was a mutant. They smashed my hand and shot me in the head and some other things, and the department found out that I lied about being a mutant and faked some test results, so." He says it in the same kind of tone he might use to describe retirement, or an error in paperwork.
On the other side of Lark, Jackson's fidgeting stops very abruptly. His head turns towards Vincent, and then he looks down at the ground, jaw tightening.
Agitation /spikes/. Something like the warning of a snarl expressed in a low, irritated noise, Bahir clenches his jaw. A last, longing look toward liquor -- and then he stomps out after Percy. STOMP STOMP STOMP. His clasp is really more of a clench.
There's a second there, in that lean, when habit earns a responding sway forward before Natalie leans abruptly backward, eyes gone wide. Natalie's cheeks warm as she watches Elias, posture and expression both reading suddenly flustered. Her dance steps depend entirely on his lead for several long segments of the song, and she does not reply.
Music ends abruptly, and when it picks up again after a flickering milisecond of silence, the beats are slower, more languid, lazy and thick, and dancing shifts accordingly. Hangin' round downtown by myself-- And I had so much time-- To sit and think about myself-- And then there she was--
"Oh my /god/." Lark breathes, green eyes wide. She sets her drink vaguely down on the bar somewhere, fortunately making it on the bar and not the air beside it. "That's /horrible/." Leaning in a little she runs an hand along his arm in a comforting gesture. "What's your--What do you--?" Her hesitation is not one of inhibition this time thanks to alcohol, but simply that she doesn't know what word would apply. She hasn't noticed Jackson yet, or his reaction, her focus too narrow.
Percy does not say anything. Once out on the dance floor, he finds the rhythm with the practice of disused but capable habit. He does not recognize the song, but sort of flows with it anyway. Of course, his coordination is not the best at the moment, and the stark edge that ripples in the air between them informs each drawn breath. Percy lowers his gaze in a long, sliding blink. He seems a little ashamed of himself, really, more than he is actually reacting to Bahir's fierceness.
Playfulness and musical appreciation dissipates from Eli's dancing style as the next song comes on the speakers. Hands on Natalie's hips, he simply goes with it, drifter closer as he sways with the beat. Eyes lower as his face turns a little more toward her shoulder.
Vincent's peripheral vision is limited, but a flicker of moment prompts him to glance over at Jackson. He eyes him warily for a moment, daring him to say something, and then shifts the brace of his elbow against the bar so that he can plant the side of his head back down in his raised hand. "Teleportation. I teleport."
Coordination yet to be affected by the alcoholic double-dose, it is anger that stiffens Bahir's movements. His eyes remain on Percy's; as amber lowers and shame informs movements, the slow burn of anger heats further. He says nothing.
Jackson doesn't say anything. He bites his lip and slips his right hand into his pocket, and goes back to fidgeting. His head turns as his lopsided gaze does, slipping between Vincent and his drinks and the dance floor.
Natalie hesitates for a moment, stilling in Elias' arms as the music shifts. She casts a glance back toward the bar and, not finding Bahir there, breathes slowly outward and turns back to her dance partner. Her lips press together for a moment as she finds the slow beat and moves with Elias, head tipped back to look up at him.
"You teleport?" Lark repeats almost reverentially, eyes lighting. "That's so /awesome/." She shifts her grip on the edge of the bar, trying her own two feet again for a moment before informing Vincent earnestly that, "I'm not. I mean I'm 100% boring human. Good thing you didn't meet the guy who's allergic. How far can you go?"
Percy stops dancing. He lifts a hand to rest fingertips against his temple, swaying a moment on his feet before he catches himself on a heel, and then lifts his gaze to Bahir's again. For a moment he occupies a pocket of perfect stillness.
Who's that casting devious stares-- In my direction-- Mama this surely is a dream--
As Percy stills, so does Bahir. His hands are loose at his sides. His gaze is steady, with the full curve of his lips compressed to a thin, angry line. When Percy looks up, all the change of expression he shows is slight furrow of his brow. One would expect a very long and involved telepathic conversation. One would be WRONG.
Elias turns his face back toward Natalie's, eyes straining to focus at their proximity. He gives a sheepish smile as he turns her around, dancing front to back for a few minutes. It works with the song. Honest. Besides, Eli's still a little fixated on that bare shoulder.
Vincent is a nice man, and does not at all seem like the sort of man who would teleport anyone in half. He even half-smiles at Lark's enthusiasm once he's swallowed what remains in his glass. It's set down, and efficiently replaced by another of the same. "Depends. Twenty feet. I've never tried to measure it."
Nope. No conversation at all, spoken or otherwise. Confronted by the aspect of his anger, Percy reaches out to take one of Bahir's loose hands in both of his. He tips his head as he lifts it, brushes a kiss to Bahir's knuckles out of a shadow of their history. He closes his eyes, and swallows.
Yeah there she was-- Like disco lemonade-- I smell sex and candy here--
Natalie startles slightly as Elias turns back, and she smiles a bit lopsidely as she blinks up at him, a bit uneasy without the comforting shield of her glasses. At the spin, she almost seems a touch relieved, relaxing into the beat of the music as it winds itself toward a close and tipping her head forward so the heavy, hot weight of loose hair falls away from her neck.
The nostalgic turn continues as the slow beat of Marcy Playground fades out (Mama this surely is a dream) into guitar strains from the same era, only slightly more upbeat. There's every good reason for letting you go-- She's sneaky and smoked out-- And its starting to show-- I never let you go--
Dark eyes narrow with a curl of fingers, and Bahir pulls his hand back. He slaps Percy. It is not a gentle tap, but neither does he put his full strength behind it. History has all kinds of shadows. The change of music which follows cues his exit from the dance floor, wrapped in angry ~drama~. All things considered, the little show doesn't get all that much attention.
Elias' fingers slide from riding that invisible line between hip and back to the one between hip and abdomen. His breath is warm on her bare neck, eyes lowered. He doesn't notice the slap. This is sad.
His weight settled on his heels, Percy stays where he was left for a long moment. He does not glance after Bahir at all. He looks at the floor, the toes of his ladies' shoes, and brushes his fingertips quietly against the sting of his cheek. Dangerous ground, though. At the narrow miss of a collision, he jars back to himself, or semblance enough to leave the dance floor, anyway. And hey. He's in a bar! That's where they keep the alcohol.
"Really? I think if I could do something I would try absolutely everything. Know it inside out. Sometimes I'm definitely jealous of you." Vincent being of course the representative for all mutants at the moment. "It must suck sometimes, but the rest of the time you can go around your life knowing that you're---just essentially amazing." Lark turns to discover where she set her drink and catches glimpse of someone familiar behind her. "Hey, Jackson!"
"It's less amazing when people are in pieces," Jackson says tersely, which will have to do by way of a reply to Lark's greeting. Half his attention is on the dance floor. His expression flickers with a fleeting trace of sympathy, though it fades to blandess soon. As Bahir exits it, he holds up one of the shot glasses in silent offer.
At the warm caress of Eli's breath and the shift of his hand, Natalie stills. It's perhaps fortunate that the music changes as well, covering a flustered moment before Natalie's hand slides down to take Elias' in hers as she spins to face him again, fingers interlaced as the quicker beat demands a touch more distance between them.
"People who shoot lasers out of their eyes or set things on fire with their mind are amazing," says Vincent, who sips at his fresh drink a little delicately. "I'm a cheap magic trick. Anyway, one day I'll probably come back without my head or something, and then..." he gestures blandly. "I'd kill to be normal."
It takes Bahir a moment to find Jackson again, even given the limit on his search of 'by the bar'. An angry flush barely warms dark skin as he approaches, inclining his head. He is not especially given to conversation. He just downs the alcohol, and leaves forward to attract the bartender's attention. MOAR.
Just like that, the nineties are gone, and there's a visible sense of relief among many of the dangers as the fast, electronic beats of twenty-first century music rise again. Baby, can't you see, I'm calling-- A guy like you should wear a warnin'-- It's dangerous, I'm fallin'--
"Really?" Talking, talking is boring. And Lark is losing interest. She takes a long swallow of her drink, but it's made a little too mild for her taste. Instead, she turns away from Vincent in a strange sort of attempt at modesty and retrieves a tiny plastic bag from the front of her dress. She drops it on the bar where it is clear that there are few nondescript white pills inside. Generously, she offers Vincent, "Want to join me?"
Jackson is, by virtue of having another shot already /there/, maybe quicker than the bartender. Despite the fact that his expression suggests he perhaps wants to be drunk himself, he nudges the second glass in Bahir's direction.
Bahir nudges it back to Jackson. He is not so heartless that he would take another man's alcohol. He broods like a champion as he waits for the next.
In the midst of a second sip, Vincent happens to glance down at the offered baggie, and promptly chokes. Only a little, granted. He manages to cough it off without too much difficulty, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
With a taste of your lips, I'm on a ride-- You're toxic, I'm slippin' under-- taste of a poison paradise-- I'm addicted to you--
"No?" Lark shrugs bare shoulders and tips out one white pill into the palm of her hand. Tossing it back, she promptly washes it down with another mouthful of vodka. "Do you dance?"
Percy, having lost his wig somewhere (or, actually, clogged up a toilet drain with it like a fucking drunk bastard, but never mind), dark hair tousled and a bit of a mess, looks a little unsettling made up but without the hair. He weaves through the crowd, starts for the bar, and then redirects and moves for a /different/ portion of the bar. He crashes up against it, flattening his palm against its surface in a narrow space between a few other people, and hoarsely demands some more liquor.
"Sorry -- it's just. Been a couple of decades since anyone offered." One last little cough, and brows knit, Vincent lifts a hand as if to stop her, but. The pill is down. His hand lowers, and his first instinct is to glance around to see if anyone else saw her /do it/. "Not...very well."
Elias takes Natalie's hand as she turns and pulls her close again, faltering in the transition. There's an awkward moment before he finds the beat again and grins as he jostles a little - one, dancing a little too close for the beat and two, clearly enjoying the buzz the alcohol is providing - before falling into a natural step.
Natalie steps in closer at the tug of Elias' hand, a bit unsteady so that she raises her other to grasp fast at his shoulder. The beat entirely escapes her for a long moment and she simply stands there, one hand at his neck and the other in his, before she closes her eyes and listens to the music to find it again.
Intoxicate me now-- With your lovin' now-- I think I'm ready now-- (I think I'm ready now)--
"We're all dying in a month anyway," Lark declares cheerfully. "Why not? It's not like the fact that it's killing brain cells even matters. Feels amazing. Have you ever--?" She waves the bag to finish the question before tucking it back into her dress. The beat of the music is catching her now and she sways a little in time.
Second shot ignored on the bar beside him, Bahir glances out over the dancing crowd. He is not exactly /looking/ for Natalie, but whenever he spies a brunette, he does stop to watch a moment longer.
Elias pauses as well, when she grabs his shoulder, staring at her long and hard before he leans in and kisses her lightly.
Jackson takes the shot glass back, though he hesitates, not drinking it, his forefinger tracing idly around the rim as he leans against the bar and shifts his glance from Bahir to the dance floor. His gaze locks on Natalie and Elias, and the large sunglasses cannot mask the colour swiftly draining out of his face, nor the sudden tension of his posture. His fingers close tight around the shot glass, and he lifts it abruptly to drain it, setting it down rather too hard when it is emptied.
At some point you'd think the bartenders would cut Percy off, you know? Instead, they pass him another drink, all dark rum and coconut. He is going to make himself sick from all the sugar.
Vincent hesitates, but shakes his head, firm enough in his disinclination to take random white pills. "It's not that I care if you do it, just. A personal preference." He watches her tuck the pills away in silence, and leans to finish off the last of his drink.
Why is Bahir always looking in the wrong place at the wrong time? WHY! The sharp sound of Jackson's forceful lowering of the glass pulls his attention from the dance floor. He leans forward to return the earlier favor of the drink order, flagging down the bartender to get a second for Jackson, and thus restore cosmic balance. And whiiile he is at it, maybe one more for himself, too.
Natalie jerks back abruptly, her eyes flying open at the first touch of lips against hers. She snatches her hand away as if burnt and stumbles backwards, catching herself with a sudden bump against a couple grinding behind her. For a long moment she simple stares at Elias, fingers lifted to rest light and disbelieving against her lips, and then she spins and begins to shove her way from the dance floor.
The last electronic strains of the song sound to be replaced with a new melody. I'm out of time and all I've got is four minutes, four minutes--
"Sure. Your choice!" Lark is willing to forgive Vincent his drug choices, but not his lack of enthusiasm for dancing. She turns away from him abruptly to lace and arm through Jackson's. No sign that she his notices mood, she just says a little plaintively, "Dance with me?"
Elias's expression grows clouded as he watches Natalie's reaction. In the end, he stays where he is, head hanging as he draws in deep breaths. He does not follow, but looks around for some place to crawl into a corner and die. Eventually, he settles on the bar, but far away from where Natalie will end up, by Bahir. SO. By default, he's down by Percy, unwittingly.
That's right. Elias and Percy are in the 'crawl into a corner and die' corner. Percy isn't all that responsive, though. He's halfway through his drink and leaning heavily against the bar, head tipped down and gaze dark.
Jackson looks grateful as Bahir orders another round. Somewhat grateful, anyway. In between his rather numb and pale look. He mumbles a, "Thanks," and stiffens when Lark takes his arm, despite his earlier assertion that he'd love to dance with her. "He /kissed/ her," is not a proper answer to Lark's request, but he says it anyway. His tone is more disbelieving than angry.
"I did not," Bahir says, blanking over at Jackson as surprise startles him from something an awful lot like a sulk. "And she was a man!"
"Okay," says Vincent after Lark. He turns to look where she's headed, sees that the new target is Jackson, and gives him a hint of stinkeye as he pokes paired fingers down into his glass after a piece of ice. "Alright. What's the damage?"
"Who?" Lark asks Jackson in evident confusion. And then Bahir chimes in and she frowns, even more lost. "Who's a man? But, I thought you kissed men." The more important question for Bahir is, "Will /you/ dance with me?"
"/Eli/," Jackson clarifies, turning to look at Bahir. "Kissed /Natalie/." He slumps against the bar, insofar as he can with his arm still hooked through Lark's. "You were totally the hotter one, too," he grumbles.
Even clarified, Bahir does not seem to immediately understand. He asks, "What?"
Natalie's somewhat unsteady path takes her in a beeline for the bar where she left Bahir, and given her state, she makes it in record time, and with no twisted ankles. She shoots Jackson a dark look as she approaches and then leans in to grab at Bahir's hand, tugging him up and away and /out/ without a single word. Or concern for their conversation.
Elias waves the bartender over and orders another significant quantity of tequila. He looks up and down the bar to take in the scenery when he spies the formerly long-haired brunette. His eyes widen and he turns away, waiting silently for his drink.
"Somebody better dance with her before she starts humping random legs," Vincent pipes up helpfully as he peels money out of his wallet and counts it out onto the the bar.
If you want it, You already got it-- If youve thought it, It better be what you want-- If you feel it, It must be real just-- Say the word, and I will give you what you want--
"Natalie?" Lark echoes uncertainly. Then that very woman appears to spirit away Bahir and she cringes back against Jackson. In a quiet voice she tells his shoulder that, "It's my fault. I thought it was his fault, but now it's all my fault. I didn't think I could do that and then I did without even--She /hates/ me."
"Elias /kissed/ you?" Bahir could be more understanding and tactful at a time like this, but he gapes at Natalie. "No fucking wonder he voted for you," he grouches, and only then remembers to slant a glance over his shoulder at Jackson with a wince. He bites his lower lip, but with Lark to distract him, he allows Natalie to manhandle off. "Where are we going?"
Finally claiming a seat, Percy crumples into it and folds his arms against the bar. He makes a sort of "hrrf" noise and glares nowhere in particular.
"Yes," Natalie says, and her voice breaks a little on the single word. "I dunno. Out. Home? Another bar? What do you want?" She is sadly not paying a lot of attention to grouches just /right/ now.
Jackson gulps down his second shot, grimacing at the flavour, and then picks up Bahir's abandoned one, too, looking at it with intent contemplation. "She hates everyone," he reassures Lark. "Except, apparently, my /boyfriend/." His tone is anachronistically amused. His expression isn't.
We only got 4 minutes to save the world-- No hesitating-- Grab a boy-- Grab a girl--
"Gimme a shot," says Vincent to the bartender, pushing along a few extra bills as he glances aside to Percy. "And one more for the tranny."
Elias receives his drink and drinks at least half of it immediately, glancing over at Percy again, lips scowling. He sneaks a glance down toward Natalie and Bahir, glaze skimming over Jackson with a sense of shame. Finally, he tosses back the rest of the liquor and orders another one.
"Yeah, thanks," Percy growls, although there's not a lot of heat in it. He scrubs a hand over his face. He knocks back the remainder of his glass and scrunches his eyes shut, brow crinkling. The bad part of the night has begun in earnest it seems.
"You mean that Elias kissed Natalie?" The event to which Jackson earlier referred is only now becoming clear to Lark. "I should tell you." That made sense in her head, really. "Where is he?"
"Either to hit something, or fuck someone, and I can't decide which so another bar would maybe be a bad idea." Tone over-light, Bahir shakes his hand free of Natalie's. Tugging the tie that binds dark hair free as they fight the crowd to head for the door, he rolls it between two fingers. "I can see you home, but I think I'm going to go sweat this out."
As the strains of Timberlake and Madonna fade (breakdown!), classics return with a distinct opening beat. Sometimes I feel I've got to-- Run away I've got to-- Get away-- From the pain that you drive into the heart of me--
"I shouldn't be surprised. Just this afternoon she was telling me how he should've dumped me long ago and then all -- rubbing herself up --" Jackson is talking to his shot glass, though he looks up at Lark's question. "I don't know. Around. Maybe kissing someone. Let's dance!" This last is abruptly, brittly cheerful, and Jackson swallows down Bahir's abandoned shot on the heels of his words.
"What? What?" Natalie looses Bahir's hand without argument and trails after him, waiting until they reach the door to push forward to stand alongside him again. "Sweat what out?" Because this is /her/ trauma!
"You need me to call you a cab or anything?" Aside from some sluggishness to movement and speech, Vincent remains dishearteningly unfun as he tucks his wallet back into his pants. "Maybe a parade float."
"Yeah, get me a goddamned parade float." Percy puts his head down on the bar and curls one of his arms over his head. He knocks the glass over, and it rolls a little ways, but at least it was empty.
"No, no. I want to find him," Lark shakes her head firmly. She shakes her hair back over her shoulders, running her fingers back through it to pull it out of her eyes, then turns to try and make her way down the bar. Intent on searching for a glimpse of Elias, she forgets to notice if Jackson is following her or not.
"Never mind." The sharp slash of his hand conveying restrained anger, Bahir stops inside the doorway to look back over the milling crowd. "/Kissed/ you." He snorts.
"Oh." It takes a moment for Jackson to respond any further than that. He stares at the empty glasses in puzzlement, poking one finger at them to see if perhaps they refill. When they don't, he finally pushes himself away from his lean against the bar and follows Lark, steps wobbly at first before they steady.
"Yes," Natalie says a touch shortly, turning to study Bahir rather than the crowd in that pause. After a long moment she recalls slowly-- "Shit. /Shit/. Did you see him? Did something happen?"
Elias is at the bar, nursing his fourth double of Tequila. He's definitely in the 'drunk' spectrum of things now, scowling as he stares at the clear liquid.
"It's his birthday, you know." Tangent, what? Without Natalie driving forward and dragging on, Bahir goes nowhere.
Natalie has no intention of letting them stay now that Bahir's talking, and she moves in to take his hand again, several kinds of support in one, and urges him away from the noise. "Shit," she says again, quieter. "I should have stayed. What happened?"
Vincent pushes up off his stool, leaning into the bar for support while he downs the shot. He lingers there for a moment, likely considering another.
Don't touch me please-- I cannot stand the way you tease-- I love you though you hurt me so-- Now I'm going to pack my things and go--
Percy watches the lights reflect off his tipped over glass and thinks vaguely about how sick he is going to feel in the morning.
Once again, Bahir shakes loose Natalie's hand, this time with a further slip on the leash of anger. "For/get/ it," he snaps. "Go fucking find Elias and talk to him, not me."
Finding one person in a crowded room is not an easy proposition. Especially with various chemical substances in one's bloodstream. Probably the only reason that Lark succeeds in her search is that she rightly assumed she would find Elias at the bar. Catching a glimpse of him finally, she approaches with purpose.
One minute passes, then two. But Vincent doesn't order anything else, and eventually sloths off the bar to start navigating his way through the crowd. "Still a lesbian?" is called after Lark in passing without real hope.
Jackson approaches with purpose, too, a pace behind Lark. "What were you /thinking/?" is his question to Elias, incredulous, but not as sharp as it might have been. For some reason he is sulky as he continues: "/Bahir/ was the hotter one."
Natalie doesn't fight the shake, and her hand falls to her side as she stares at Bahir. There is a noticable wince at the curse that follows the snap, and a darkening of her expression to follow. After a moment of silence she asks carefully, "Do you want me to walk home with you?"
Elias stiffens visibly at the first, though the expression on his face confesses he isn't entirely surprised by it. He turns around to face Jackson and finds Lark there too. He holds onto his glass firmly as his confusion grows at Jackson's second comment. "What the fuck?"
Percy wrenches away from the bar in a haphazard stagger. Such is his sudden and vehement force that the heel snaps right off his shoe and it barely slows him down. The look he shoots at Jackson, Elias and Lark encompassed is full of venom; and he's gone off at a haphazard hobble, taking off the shoes as he goes and hurling one of them behind him into the crowd at random.
The music again turns toward mellow, guitars lying over garbled murmurings before the lyrics become clear. I have to block out thoughts of you so I dont lose my head-- They crawl in like a cockroach leaving babies in my bed-- Dropping little reels of tape to remind me that Im alone--
"What the fuck yourself." Lark's tone has the snap that Jackon's lacked. Standing unsteadily in front of Elias she attempts to meet his gaze squarely. "Why did you kiss Natalie?"
"No." Bahir drags a hand over his face, rubbing at his eyes and along his jaw. "No, I'm not -- I'm going to go hit stuff for a while. I'll talk to you later, okay?" It isn't an apology, but it is sort of like one. If you squint. In the dark.
"Okay!" calls Vincent. "Bye!" And on he goes, patting over his jacket for cigarettes as he continues to shoulder out for the door.
Natalie is not quite in the mood for squinting at the moment, and thus the jerk of her head into a nod is less than forgiving, as is her turn away to pace toward the curb, where for a moment she stands and stares down the street, presumably in search of a cab.
"You picked wrong," Jackson explains sadly, and he lifts his hand to rub its heel against his eye, tiredly, pushing his sunglasses up to the top of his head in order to do so. He neglects to replace them afterwards, his usual self-conscious washed away by the three shots he's had. "Look, we should -- I should. Go."
Hate me today-- Hate me tomorrow-- Hate me for all the things I didn't do for you--
Elias eyes Percy back with a disturbed look before tossing back his drink and sets the glass down, searching for his wallet. He lays bills on the counter and eyes Lark for a second. "She was close. It felt right. And fuck you, Jackson. If I could have kissed Bahir, I would have. He's far less awkward." Wallet stuffed sufficiently back in his pocket, he eyes the both of them. "Okay?"
Vincent stumbles out through the doors with a cigarette already in his mouth, and a lighter in hand. He's lit up almost before he's managed to catch his balance, but his cell phone clatters out of his pocket onto the concrete. "Fuck."
Annoyance is not long lived for Lark. Elias' reaction sends her back through the spectrum of emotions to a distressed frown and wide eyes and she exlaims, "I'm /sorry/. I didn't mean it." She suddenly throws bare arms around his shoulders and buries her face against him saying again, "I'm sorry."
Jackson flinches backwards, shoulders stiffening. "You picked wrong," he mumbles again, frowning down at his feet. He flicks a glance up towards Lark and Elias, and then turns to head for the door.
"Okay, shhhh," Eli replies to Lark, rubbing her back lightly, giving Jackson while he does. When his boyfriend starts storming out, Eli sighs and speaks to Lark again. "Okay, we need to follow after Jackson because - well, we do, okay? Come on." He starts nudging Lark toward the door without entirely unwrapping her from himself. It's a three legged race!
"Okay." Lark is quite easily led at this point, though she does cling to Elias for a certain amount of support. And observe for no particular reason that, "You smell good."
As people begin to exit, the music becomes abruptly chipper, cheery, even. Soon, the chorus is blaring: My friends say I should act my age-- What's my age again?-- What's my age again?--
"You could join--" No, Lark, you don't have cigarettes, remember? She giggles again, then shivers as she and Ryan pass out of the humid heat of the bar's interior to the cool summer night outside. "'s cold," she murmurs in protest. "You sure you'll be okay going home? You're not going to pass out in the cab, are you? I've heard that they aren't very nice about it if you do that."
Everbody' talking-- talkin' pretty loud-- Everbody lookin'-- to stand out from the crowd--
Outside, Jackson waves Lark and Ryan over -- he has detained a cab and holds it against the line of other people /also/ attempting to grab one by virtue of -- who knows. He doesn't linger long, though, posture uncomfortable with Ryan's proximity. "I'll be -- back at the bar," he tells Lark, leaving the cab for them and veering back towards the door.
Elias grins and cradles his second shot before looking over his shoulder at the subject of Natalie's glare. It's obvious from his expression that he's expecting someone else entirely. When he takes in the lovely brunette, he smiles and nods (no recognition here) and turns back to Natalie with a 'ex-girlfriend?' expression
"Yes, I'll be okay," Ryan says, some color finally returning to his skin as they step clear of the bar. He takes in a deep breath of the cool air. He is at least as uncomfortable with Jackson's presence as Jackson is with his, merely giving him an uncomfortable nod before getting into the cab. "Take care," he says to Lark, before shutting the door of it and giving the cabbie his address.
Now it's a ruin-- The joke has worn thin-- And it isn't cool to abuse-- the ability to swing--
When the bartender brings Natalie's second shot, Bahir leans forward to ask for one of his own, paying for both. Pointing at his drink, he says, "Whatever the base of this is," and leaves the details to those paid to know such things. Sliding the depleted fold of bills away takes a minor bit of effort given close fit -- but only minor. /Classy/, not /skanky/. He eyes Elias with a mild scowl. "Sheer quantity of skin," he repeats from earlier. "What if I had taken off my shirt?" (The pants, though? They stay on.) Percy who? Percy what?
Vincent has procured a phonebook from the bartender, and a cell phone, from his pocket. He is on E, for Escort Service.
"You too," Lark tells Ryan. She watches and waves as the cab drives off, then makes a quick dash for the door to the bar. Shivering hard, she ducks gratefully back inside and heads straight for the bar. She catches a glimpse of Natalie in her path and reverses direction suddenly to avoid any chance of running into her again. So, instead she runs into Percy, in the more literal sense of the word. "Sorry, sorry," she apologizes, trying to recover her balance.
Third. It's Natalie's third, and she takes it without hesitation just as the music fades into a sudden burst of familiar, aged strains that, despite their slight cheese, excite a flurry of interest on the dance floor. "You're not taking off your shirt--" Natalie begins before suddenly she perks and turns, hand reaching for Elias' to tug him away from the bar. "Okay, you can't /not/ dance to this song," she begs.
"You just don't want him to change his vote!" Bahir calls after Natalie as she moves to steal Elias away. Third. Whatever. He still has his first.
"It depends. Nipples pierced?" Elias replies, appraising Bahir once more. "Or how about wearing a glittery bronzer?" As if Bahir would need it. He knocks back his second shot as he is dragged away. "Consider it. We'll be back when the song's over - barring any other gems."
Jackson heads back inside, too, after lingering just long enough to see Ryan get into his cab, and his hurried steps take him quickly back towards the bar, too, rather purposeful as he searches for Elias. (He does so without running into anyone, at least not in the literal sense.) He slows as he sees Natalie dragging Eli away, teeth sinking into his lower lip. Instead, he turns a thoughtful glance up towards Bahir. "Do /you/ dance?"
"You like pierced nipples?" Natalie baffles, glancing back over her shoulder at Elias as she tugs him along through the crowd. "And gli-- oh." She abruptly remembers Eli's taste in boyfriends and cuts off before shaking her head and running her free hand back along hair she is not accustomed to wearing loose. "Er. Nevermind. Do you dance? I didn't even ask. Surely you dance, right? What with the whole model scene?" She's rambling a bit, her tongue loosened by alcohol, emotion, and nerves.
Bahir looks mildly horrified. "What? No!" The shirt is of fine enough weave that, if they /were/ pierced, all the dim bar lighting in the world couldn't prevent the spread of such knowledge. He folds one arm across his chest, protecting it from imaginary needles. Scowl dark, if patently false, he bites the straw to take a sip of pink alcohol. As the pair leaves, the expression fades, and he gives Jackson a briefly amused glance. His chin lifts as he swallows, answer coming with a self-deprecating wiggle of his hand. "Ish. Not often."
Still lingering surreptitiously a few feet away, in a way not unlike that employed by /stalkers/, one long-haired brunette watches Jackson approach Bahir with a slightly narrowed amber gaze beneath dark lashes, weight balanced back back on one heel. Drifting a few paces forward, he interposes himself; not physically, but on the approach, and with words pitched to carry despite the, uh, music. "But it has been known to happen."
"Eh. They're fun to play with, but not a requirement," Eli admits with a grin and a glance in Bahir's direction. "And yes! We danced at Norah's party, remember?" He grabs Natalie's hand and gives her a quick twirl before the confines of the dance floor get in the way.
"That's just very weird to me," Natalie admits before she's twirled, something that has her wobbling a little given her heels, and she latches tight to Elias' hand before grabbing at his shoulders and leaning into him for balanced support. Her breath caught, she returns the grin and looks up at him with a breath of laughter as she reminds, "I was kind of drunk, I forgot-- I'm going to be drunk again real soon. Play nice!"
"Has it?" Jackson (whose shirt makes it rather obvious that /his/ are pierced. He has no hint of glitter anywhere, though, at least) turns slightly, head tilting thoughtfully at the brunette's approach, brow creasing with niggling familiarity before he looks back to Bahir, cheerfully hopeful. "Dance with me? Just this song!"
Steadying herself on the convenient shoulder of a complete stranger, Lark finishes her trek to the bar. She switches to something lighter for her order this time, but the same basic alcohol. "Vodka cranberry!" Considering her neighbors at the bar as she wait for the drink, she discovers that she has joined Vincent once more. "Hello again," she greets brightly. "What's the phonebook for?"
"Fine, less spinning." Elias does not want to be vomited on. He does play nice and a bit cheesy (especially since the song is so inspiring), dancing her around some of the other couples but trying to stay in some semblance of free space. "Eh. It is weird - just - well, never mind."
"Hm?" says Vincent, half to Lark, and half into the receiver. His eyes are slow to focus, but once they do, his stumpy left hand is quick to act. It manages to flop the phonebook neatly closed in one swift gesture, and he adds on, "Nevermind, I'm actually not that hungry," to whatever phone conversation he happens to be having before thumbing the 'end call' button. "Ordering a pizza," he tells Lark.
"We can spin," Natalie objects instantly, twisting her fingers to lace through his. "Just, y'know, give me some warning-- I like to spin." She moves with him, more points for enthusiasm and pure enjoyment than the moves to go with her outfit. "What, no, nevermind. What's weird?" she insists curiously.
Youre a teaser, you turn em on-- Leave them burning and then youre gone-- Looking out for another, anyone will do-- Youre in the mood for a dance-- And when you get the chance...
Glance toward the newest intrusion carrying a faintly unfriendly wariness, Bahir takes another slow sip of his drink and eyes the baffling brunette irritably. (Believe it or not, he isn't the most /outgoing/ guy around.) As he looks back toward Jackson, his manner is warmer: stranger, strange; Jackson, known. "I--." And then he looks back again, skimming Percy from toes up to the long toss of dark hair. His eyes narrow. He looks annoyed. He does not look in the mood for a dance. Shut up, music. This makes his clipped, "Fine," all the more inexplicable. But first, finishing the alcohol! He sets his glass down with a trifle more strength then necessary and picks up the shot early placed by the bartender so that he can down that, too. Then he gestures. After you, Jackson!
"Excuse me," Percy says, with a sharp smile and a slight dip of his head. He reaches out a snaking hand to catch Bahir's free hand in his own. The low burn of possessiveness totally inappropriate considering respective relationship statuses, it nevertheless informs the golden glitter of amber eyes and prowled step he takes forward. It also informs the hint of growl that informs the low-throated note of his voice as he speaks. All told, not very feminine. "I actually think Bahir owes me a dance."
"But, eating means you get less drunk," Lark informs Vincent. And drunk is of course the point, right? She's certainly well on her way. "Did I introduce myself before? I can't remember. Sorry I ran off, but Natalie--" She frowns, delicate black brows pulling together. "Do you know Natalie? I'm Lark, anyway." Her drink arrives, pink, but missing any sort of frilly umbrella or fruit decorations thankfully.
Somewhat baffled by Bahir's switch in mood, Jackson is nevertheless not giong to turn down the acceptance. A hint of puzzlement creeps into his cheer, but he turns to lead the way to the dancefloor -- that is, until Percy reaches for his dance partner. "Um." The puzzlement is definitely growing, and his brows knit over his sunglasses. "Excuse me?" He bites down on his lip, looking at Percy with a hint of disbelief, until the masculine voice helps the niggling recognition spread further and he rocks back on his heels, abruptly awkward and uncertain. Oh.
"Nipple rings," Eli admits, his brows quirking. He leads her in a couple more partial turns (no spinning), hands just lightly touching her shoulders and hand as they move.
Natalie settles her own hands firmly on Elias' shoulders, although one finds his hip sometime in the midst of a turn. She sends a sudden grin up at him, amusement brilliant in the flash of dark eyes. She bites her lower lip, teeth tugging at it as she tries to surpress a laugh. "Gosh. /Not/ that big a fan, huh? Good. I always thought they were weird. I like my piercings and tattoos in moderation."
Bahir's fingers barely curl before he turns his hand in Percy's, and pulls down and away. "I really don't think I do. Why don't you dance with /each other/," he suggests instead, a bright and brittle aggression making an unfair target of Jackson-the-by-stander.
"Yeah, I know. I just had that exact thought, so." Vincent wiggles the source of his abruptly ended call, and tucks it away into his still-drying suit coat. No pizza for him. "I don't think I know any Natalies, no. Nice to meet you, though." He eyes her drink. Pink.
"I'm dating someone that may be addicted to them. You just learn to enjoy the - um, distinctive qualities your partner possesses after time." Elias does keep the turns going, something ABBA-esque in the way her hair flops upward and outward with each swinging motion.
Familiar strains fade away (dancing queen...) to be overtaken by more contemporary rhythm, energetic and enthusiastic. Pump it-- Turn up the radio-- Blast your stereo--
Natalie can't help a slightly tipsy snicker as she shakes her head. Her hair /sways/, thank you very much, it does not /flop/. As the song draws to a close she swings out and clings to his hand to execute a slightly wobbly twirl before breaking into laughter again. A pause, and then she's moving again, apparently keeping him for at least the /next/ song, too. "I dunno!" she calls over the music. "I might tolerate, but that's not the same as /enjoy/-- hey, how were the cookies?"
"No," Percy snaps back. He glances at Jackson, but barely for an instant. His focus is elsewhere. Dropping his hand when Bahir pulls away from him, he lifts his chin -- so regal -- and glares. With the heels, he is actually of a height with him, if not a little taller. He is a little slurred, meeting Bahir's anger with a sourer, edgier sort of unhappiness. "Short memory," he accuses. "You owe me one. It's my fucking birthday." For all the masculinity that informs the buried growl of his tone, he really is a lot like a fifteen year old girl.
Pink, and tasty. Lark takes a long swallow, and rather than chew the ice shard she end up with, she holds it against her upper lip with the tip of her tongue until it melts. "Well, I introduced myself. If you don't introduce back I'll be worried that you'd rather I go away. Or, maybe you're a spy. That would be exciting." Wavering on her feet, she leans over to lean most of her weight on the bar for stability. "Though, I don't know who you'd be spying on in here. Lots of people I know, but no international jewel thieves or terrorists I don't think."
Elias switches gears easily. "They were delicious, thank you." He does refrain from slutty dancing, but does enjoy the next song just as much. He leans close and utters, "Sorry about then," between one of the heavier beats. And then he's dancing again.
Jackson rocks back on one heel, looking rather intensely uncomfortable at being brought into the middle of this. "Maybe another time," he says, edging slightly away from the pair. "D'you want another drink, Bahir?" Apparently /something/ in the exchange leads him to think perhaps Bahir could use one.
"I'm not a spy," Vincent promises with level-headed sincerity. He is a little drunk, perhaps, but not yet on his way to really being inebriated. "Vincent Lazzaro. I used to be a detective. Now I'm a private investigator." He offers his good hand over after taking a long sip of his pale drink, and sighs. "I actually followed somebody's husband in here, but I lost him. So I had a beer."
Natalie lifts a hand to brace it behind Elias' neck for a moment as he leans in to speak, and then she pulls back, balancing as she shakes her head. "You're stressed," she returns. "I'm stressed. It's fine. We're friends, yeah?" For a moment her gaze is serious and she forgets to dance beyond a distracted sway as she waits for confirmation.
"What are you, thirteen?" Never mind /fifteen/ year old girls: Bahir won't even afford Percy that much emotional maturity. Not looking away from the happy birthday boy, he addresses Jackson: "Very much so, actually. Just ... in a few minutes. Sorry. I'll be back after this." He turns his hand out in apology, only then glancing toward him. He rolls his shoulder in slight shrug and then looks back. Very like grim, he points Percy to the dance floor. "Go. /Happy birthday/."
"Private eye. Almost as good as a spy," Lark assures. "Plenty of good movies though not as many as spy thrillers. Dashiell Hammett!" She remembers the name a little triumphantly, not giving thought to whether it will actually mean anything to Vincent. "Why'd you stop being a detective?" Tact? what? Any chance of that left a while ago.
"Yes. Friends." Eli replies, his hands settling lightly on her hips. There's a second there, in that closeness where he leans a fraction of an inch forward, but a smile - a somewhat manufactured one - interrupts the seriousness and he leans back again, shifting the pause back into dance steps since she's attached to him now.
Jackson nods, and slips back to the bar, slotting himself in by Lark as he leans over to flag a bartender, point towards Bahir to order two more shots of -- whatever he'd had. He leans back against the bar's edge, gaze turned out towards the dancefloor and his carriage still fidgety -- less with uncomfortableness now than simple restlessness. There is music. He is not dancing to it.
"Fuck you," Percy says. Predictably! He catches Bahir by the hips with both hands in a forward step, rather than pursue the dance floor option immediately. Catching his lower lip his teeth, he almost smiles, but not quite -- it reflects in his gaze, twists his mouth more grimace than grin. "Nice pants," he says. Insistent, he winds his fingers through Bahir's and turns to pull him along behind onto the dance floor.
Turn up the radio-- Blast your stereo-- Right now--
"Yeah," says Vincent, who rubs at the bridge of his nose, and then over his brow. "That. I was kidnapped by some psychopaths who found out I was a mutant. They smashed my hand and shot me in the head and some other things, and the department found out that I lied about being a mutant and faked some test results, so." He says it in the same kind of tone he might use to describe retirement, or an error in paperwork.
On the other side of Lark, Jackson's fidgeting stops very abruptly. His head turns towards Vincent, and then he looks down at the ground, jaw tightening.
Agitation /spikes/. Something like the warning of a snarl expressed in a low, irritated noise, Bahir clenches his jaw. A last, longing look toward liquor -- and then he stomps out after Percy. STOMP STOMP STOMP. His clasp is really more of a clench.
There's a second there, in that lean, when habit earns a responding sway forward before Natalie leans abruptly backward, eyes gone wide. Natalie's cheeks warm as she watches Elias, posture and expression both reading suddenly flustered. Her dance steps depend entirely on his lead for several long segments of the song, and she does not reply.
Music ends abruptly, and when it picks up again after a flickering milisecond of silence, the beats are slower, more languid, lazy and thick, and dancing shifts accordingly. Hangin' round downtown by myself-- And I had so much time-- To sit and think about myself-- And then there she was--
"Oh my /god/." Lark breathes, green eyes wide. She sets her drink vaguely down on the bar somewhere, fortunately making it on the bar and not the air beside it. "That's /horrible/." Leaning in a little she runs an hand along his arm in a comforting gesture. "What's your--What do you--?" Her hesitation is not one of inhibition this time thanks to alcohol, but simply that she doesn't know what word would apply. She hasn't noticed Jackson yet, or his reaction, her focus too narrow.
Percy does not say anything. Once out on the dance floor, he finds the rhythm with the practice of disused but capable habit. He does not recognize the song, but sort of flows with it anyway. Of course, his coordination is not the best at the moment, and the stark edge that ripples in the air between them informs each drawn breath. Percy lowers his gaze in a long, sliding blink. He seems a little ashamed of himself, really, more than he is actually reacting to Bahir's fierceness.
Playfulness and musical appreciation dissipates from Eli's dancing style as the next song comes on the speakers. Hands on Natalie's hips, he simply goes with it, drifter closer as he sways with the beat. Eyes lower as his face turns a little more toward her shoulder.
Vincent's peripheral vision is limited, but a flicker of moment prompts him to glance over at Jackson. He eyes him warily for a moment, daring him to say something, and then shifts the brace of his elbow against the bar so that he can plant the side of his head back down in his raised hand. "Teleportation. I teleport."
Coordination yet to be affected by the alcoholic double-dose, it is anger that stiffens Bahir's movements. His eyes remain on Percy's; as amber lowers and shame informs movements, the slow burn of anger heats further. He says nothing.
Jackson doesn't say anything. He bites his lip and slips his right hand into his pocket, and goes back to fidgeting. His head turns as his lopsided gaze does, slipping between Vincent and his drinks and the dance floor.
Natalie hesitates for a moment, stilling in Elias' arms as the music shifts. She casts a glance back toward the bar and, not finding Bahir there, breathes slowly outward and turns back to her dance partner. Her lips press together for a moment as she finds the slow beat and moves with Elias, head tipped back to look up at him.
"You teleport?" Lark repeats almost reverentially, eyes lighting. "That's so /awesome/." She shifts her grip on the edge of the bar, trying her own two feet again for a moment before informing Vincent earnestly that, "I'm not. I mean I'm 100% boring human. Good thing you didn't meet the guy who's allergic. How far can you go?"
Percy stops dancing. He lifts a hand to rest fingertips against his temple, swaying a moment on his feet before he catches himself on a heel, and then lifts his gaze to Bahir's again. For a moment he occupies a pocket of perfect stillness.
Who's that casting devious stares-- In my direction-- Mama this surely is a dream--
As Percy stills, so does Bahir. His hands are loose at his sides. His gaze is steady, with the full curve of his lips compressed to a thin, angry line. When Percy looks up, all the change of expression he shows is slight furrow of his brow. One would expect a very long and involved telepathic conversation. One would be WRONG.
Elias turns his face back toward Natalie's, eyes straining to focus at their proximity. He gives a sheepish smile as he turns her around, dancing front to back for a few minutes. It works with the song. Honest. Besides, Eli's still a little fixated on that bare shoulder.
Vincent is a nice man, and does not at all seem like the sort of man who would teleport anyone in half. He even half-smiles at Lark's enthusiasm once he's swallowed what remains in his glass. It's set down, and efficiently replaced by another of the same. "Depends. Twenty feet. I've never tried to measure it."
Nope. No conversation at all, spoken or otherwise. Confronted by the aspect of his anger, Percy reaches out to take one of Bahir's loose hands in both of his. He tips his head as he lifts it, brushes a kiss to Bahir's knuckles out of a shadow of their history. He closes his eyes, and swallows.
Yeah there she was-- Like disco lemonade-- I smell sex and candy here--
Natalie startles slightly as Elias turns back, and she smiles a bit lopsidely as she blinks up at him, a bit uneasy without the comforting shield of her glasses. At the spin, she almost seems a touch relieved, relaxing into the beat of the music as it winds itself toward a close and tipping her head forward so the heavy, hot weight of loose hair falls away from her neck.
The nostalgic turn continues as the slow beat of Marcy Playground fades out (Mama this surely is a dream) into guitar strains from the same era, only slightly more upbeat. There's every good reason for letting you go-- She's sneaky and smoked out-- And its starting to show-- I never let you go--
Dark eyes narrow with a curl of fingers, and Bahir pulls his hand back. He slaps Percy. It is not a gentle tap, but neither does he put his full strength behind it. History has all kinds of shadows. The change of music which follows cues his exit from the dance floor, wrapped in angry ~drama~. All things considered, the little show doesn't get all that much attention.
Elias' fingers slide from riding that invisible line between hip and back to the one between hip and abdomen. His breath is warm on her bare neck, eyes lowered. He doesn't notice the slap. This is sad.
His weight settled on his heels, Percy stays where he was left for a long moment. He does not glance after Bahir at all. He looks at the floor, the toes of his ladies' shoes, and brushes his fingertips quietly against the sting of his cheek. Dangerous ground, though. At the narrow miss of a collision, he jars back to himself, or semblance enough to leave the dance floor, anyway. And hey. He's in a bar! That's where they keep the alcohol.
"Really? I think if I could do something I would try absolutely everything. Know it inside out. Sometimes I'm definitely jealous of you." Vincent being of course the representative for all mutants at the moment. "It must suck sometimes, but the rest of the time you can go around your life knowing that you're---just essentially amazing." Lark turns to discover where she set her drink and catches glimpse of someone familiar behind her. "Hey, Jackson!"
"It's less amazing when people are in pieces," Jackson says tersely, which will have to do by way of a reply to Lark's greeting. Half his attention is on the dance floor. His expression flickers with a fleeting trace of sympathy, though it fades to blandess soon. As Bahir exits it, he holds up one of the shot glasses in silent offer.
At the warm caress of Eli's breath and the shift of his hand, Natalie stills. It's perhaps fortunate that the music changes as well, covering a flustered moment before Natalie's hand slides down to take Elias' in hers as she spins to face him again, fingers interlaced as the quicker beat demands a touch more distance between them.
"People who shoot lasers out of their eyes or set things on fire with their mind are amazing," says Vincent, who sips at his fresh drink a little delicately. "I'm a cheap magic trick. Anyway, one day I'll probably come back without my head or something, and then..." he gestures blandly. "I'd kill to be normal."
It takes Bahir a moment to find Jackson again, even given the limit on his search of 'by the bar'. An angry flush barely warms dark skin as he approaches, inclining his head. He is not especially given to conversation. He just downs the alcohol, and leaves forward to attract the bartender's attention. MOAR.
Just like that, the nineties are gone, and there's a visible sense of relief among many of the dangers as the fast, electronic beats of twenty-first century music rise again. Baby, can't you see, I'm calling-- A guy like you should wear a warnin'-- It's dangerous, I'm fallin'--
"Really?" Talking, talking is boring. And Lark is losing interest. She takes a long swallow of her drink, but it's made a little too mild for her taste. Instead, she turns away from Vincent in a strange sort of attempt at modesty and retrieves a tiny plastic bag from the front of her dress. She drops it on the bar where it is clear that there are few nondescript white pills inside. Generously, she offers Vincent, "Want to join me?"
Jackson is, by virtue of having another shot already /there/, maybe quicker than the bartender. Despite the fact that his expression suggests he perhaps wants to be drunk himself, he nudges the second glass in Bahir's direction.
Bahir nudges it back to Jackson. He is not so heartless that he would take another man's alcohol. He broods like a champion as he waits for the next.
In the midst of a second sip, Vincent happens to glance down at the offered baggie, and promptly chokes. Only a little, granted. He manages to cough it off without too much difficulty, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
With a taste of your lips, I'm on a ride-- You're toxic, I'm slippin' under-- taste of a poison paradise-- I'm addicted to you--
"No?" Lark shrugs bare shoulders and tips out one white pill into the palm of her hand. Tossing it back, she promptly washes it down with another mouthful of vodka. "Do you dance?"
Percy, having lost his wig somewhere (or, actually, clogged up a toilet drain with it like a fucking drunk bastard, but never mind), dark hair tousled and a bit of a mess, looks a little unsettling made up but without the hair. He weaves through the crowd, starts for the bar, and then redirects and moves for a /different/ portion of the bar. He crashes up against it, flattening his palm against its surface in a narrow space between a few other people, and hoarsely demands some more liquor.
"Sorry -- it's just. Been a couple of decades since anyone offered." One last little cough, and brows knit, Vincent lifts a hand as if to stop her, but. The pill is down. His hand lowers, and his first instinct is to glance around to see if anyone else saw her /do it/. "Not...very well."
Elias takes Natalie's hand as she turns and pulls her close again, faltering in the transition. There's an awkward moment before he finds the beat again and grins as he jostles a little - one, dancing a little too close for the beat and two, clearly enjoying the buzz the alcohol is providing - before falling into a natural step.
Natalie steps in closer at the tug of Elias' hand, a bit unsteady so that she raises her other to grasp fast at his shoulder. The beat entirely escapes her for a long moment and she simply stands there, one hand at his neck and the other in his, before she closes her eyes and listens to the music to find it again.
Intoxicate me now-- With your lovin' now-- I think I'm ready now-- (I think I'm ready now)--
"We're all dying in a month anyway," Lark declares cheerfully. "Why not? It's not like the fact that it's killing brain cells even matters. Feels amazing. Have you ever--?" She waves the bag to finish the question before tucking it back into her dress. The beat of the music is catching her now and she sways a little in time.
Second shot ignored on the bar beside him, Bahir glances out over the dancing crowd. He is not exactly /looking/ for Natalie, but whenever he spies a brunette, he does stop to watch a moment longer.
Elias pauses as well, when she grabs his shoulder, staring at her long and hard before he leans in and kisses her lightly.
Jackson takes the shot glass back, though he hesitates, not drinking it, his forefinger tracing idly around the rim as he leans against the bar and shifts his glance from Bahir to the dance floor. His gaze locks on Natalie and Elias, and the large sunglasses cannot mask the colour swiftly draining out of his face, nor the sudden tension of his posture. His fingers close tight around the shot glass, and he lifts it abruptly to drain it, setting it down rather too hard when it is emptied.
At some point you'd think the bartenders would cut Percy off, you know? Instead, they pass him another drink, all dark rum and coconut. He is going to make himself sick from all the sugar.
Vincent hesitates, but shakes his head, firm enough in his disinclination to take random white pills. "It's not that I care if you do it, just. A personal preference." He watches her tuck the pills away in silence, and leans to finish off the last of his drink.
Why is Bahir always looking in the wrong place at the wrong time? WHY! The sharp sound of Jackson's forceful lowering of the glass pulls his attention from the dance floor. He leans forward to return the earlier favor of the drink order, flagging down the bartender to get a second for Jackson, and thus restore cosmic balance. And whiiile he is at it, maybe one more for himself, too.
Natalie jerks back abruptly, her eyes flying open at the first touch of lips against hers. She snatches her hand away as if burnt and stumbles backwards, catching herself with a sudden bump against a couple grinding behind her. For a long moment she simple stares at Elias, fingers lifted to rest light and disbelieving against her lips, and then she spins and begins to shove her way from the dance floor.
The last electronic strains of the song sound to be replaced with a new melody. I'm out of time and all I've got is four minutes, four minutes--
"Sure. Your choice!" Lark is willing to forgive Vincent his drug choices, but not his lack of enthusiasm for dancing. She turns away from him abruptly to lace and arm through Jackson's. No sign that she his notices mood, she just says a little plaintively, "Dance with me?"
Elias's expression grows clouded as he watches Natalie's reaction. In the end, he stays where he is, head hanging as he draws in deep breaths. He does not follow, but looks around for some place to crawl into a corner and die. Eventually, he settles on the bar, but far away from where Natalie will end up, by Bahir. SO. By default, he's down by Percy, unwittingly.
That's right. Elias and Percy are in the 'crawl into a corner and die' corner. Percy isn't all that responsive, though. He's halfway through his drink and leaning heavily against the bar, head tipped down and gaze dark.
Jackson looks grateful as Bahir orders another round. Somewhat grateful, anyway. In between his rather numb and pale look. He mumbles a, "Thanks," and stiffens when Lark takes his arm, despite his earlier assertion that he'd love to dance with her. "He /kissed/ her," is not a proper answer to Lark's request, but he says it anyway. His tone is more disbelieving than angry.
"I did not," Bahir says, blanking over at Jackson as surprise startles him from something an awful lot like a sulk. "And she was a man!"
"Okay," says Vincent after Lark. He turns to look where she's headed, sees that the new target is Jackson, and gives him a hint of stinkeye as he pokes paired fingers down into his glass after a piece of ice. "Alright. What's the damage?"
"Who?" Lark asks Jackson in evident confusion. And then Bahir chimes in and she frowns, even more lost. "Who's a man? But, I thought you kissed men." The more important question for Bahir is, "Will /you/ dance with me?"
"/Eli/," Jackson clarifies, turning to look at Bahir. "Kissed /Natalie/." He slumps against the bar, insofar as he can with his arm still hooked through Lark's. "You were totally the hotter one, too," he grumbles.
Even clarified, Bahir does not seem to immediately understand. He asks, "What?"
Natalie's somewhat unsteady path takes her in a beeline for the bar where she left Bahir, and given her state, she makes it in record time, and with no twisted ankles. She shoots Jackson a dark look as she approaches and then leans in to grab at Bahir's hand, tugging him up and away and /out/ without a single word. Or concern for their conversation.
Elias waves the bartender over and orders another significant quantity of tequila. He looks up and down the bar to take in the scenery when he spies the formerly long-haired brunette. His eyes widen and he turns away, waiting silently for his drink.
"Somebody better dance with her before she starts humping random legs," Vincent pipes up helpfully as he peels money out of his wallet and counts it out onto the the bar.
If you want it, You already got it-- If youve thought it, It better be what you want-- If you feel it, It must be real just-- Say the word, and I will give you what you want--
"Natalie?" Lark echoes uncertainly. Then that very woman appears to spirit away Bahir and she cringes back against Jackson. In a quiet voice she tells his shoulder that, "It's my fault. I thought it was his fault, but now it's all my fault. I didn't think I could do that and then I did without even--She /hates/ me."
"Elias /kissed/ you?" Bahir could be more understanding and tactful at a time like this, but he gapes at Natalie. "No fucking wonder he voted for you," he grouches, and only then remembers to slant a glance over his shoulder at Jackson with a wince. He bites his lower lip, but with Lark to distract him, he allows Natalie to manhandle off. "Where are we going?"
Finally claiming a seat, Percy crumples into it and folds his arms against the bar. He makes a sort of "hrrf" noise and glares nowhere in particular.
"Yes," Natalie says, and her voice breaks a little on the single word. "I dunno. Out. Home? Another bar? What do you want?" She is sadly not paying a lot of attention to grouches just /right/ now.
Jackson gulps down his second shot, grimacing at the flavour, and then picks up Bahir's abandoned one, too, looking at it with intent contemplation. "She hates everyone," he reassures Lark. "Except, apparently, my /boyfriend/." His tone is anachronistically amused. His expression isn't.
We only got 4 minutes to save the world-- No hesitating-- Grab a boy-- Grab a girl--
"Gimme a shot," says Vincent to the bartender, pushing along a few extra bills as he glances aside to Percy. "And one more for the tranny."
Elias receives his drink and drinks at least half of it immediately, glancing over at Percy again, lips scowling. He sneaks a glance down toward Natalie and Bahir, glaze skimming over Jackson with a sense of shame. Finally, he tosses back the rest of the liquor and orders another one.
"Yeah, thanks," Percy growls, although there's not a lot of heat in it. He scrubs a hand over his face. He knocks back the remainder of his glass and scrunches his eyes shut, brow crinkling. The bad part of the night has begun in earnest it seems.
"You mean that Elias kissed Natalie?" The event to which Jackson earlier referred is only now becoming clear to Lark. "I should tell you." That made sense in her head, really. "Where is he?"
"Either to hit something, or fuck someone, and I can't decide which so another bar would maybe be a bad idea." Tone over-light, Bahir shakes his hand free of Natalie's. Tugging the tie that binds dark hair free as they fight the crowd to head for the door, he rolls it between two fingers. "I can see you home, but I think I'm going to go sweat this out."
As the strains of Timberlake and Madonna fade (breakdown!), classics return with a distinct opening beat. Sometimes I feel I've got to-- Run away I've got to-- Get away-- From the pain that you drive into the heart of me--
"I shouldn't be surprised. Just this afternoon she was telling me how he should've dumped me long ago and then all -- rubbing herself up --" Jackson is talking to his shot glass, though he looks up at Lark's question. "I don't know. Around. Maybe kissing someone. Let's dance!" This last is abruptly, brittly cheerful, and Jackson swallows down Bahir's abandoned shot on the heels of his words.
"What? What?" Natalie looses Bahir's hand without argument and trails after him, waiting until they reach the door to push forward to stand alongside him again. "Sweat what out?" Because this is /her/ trauma!
"You need me to call you a cab or anything?" Aside from some sluggishness to movement and speech, Vincent remains dishearteningly unfun as he tucks his wallet back into his pants. "Maybe a parade float."
"Yeah, get me a goddamned parade float." Percy puts his head down on the bar and curls one of his arms over his head. He knocks the glass over, and it rolls a little ways, but at least it was empty.
"No, no. I want to find him," Lark shakes her head firmly. She shakes her hair back over her shoulders, running her fingers back through it to pull it out of her eyes, then turns to try and make her way down the bar. Intent on searching for a glimpse of Elias, she forgets to notice if Jackson is following her or not.
"Never mind." The sharp slash of his hand conveying restrained anger, Bahir stops inside the doorway to look back over the milling crowd. "/Kissed/ you." He snorts.
"Oh." It takes a moment for Jackson to respond any further than that. He stares at the empty glasses in puzzlement, poking one finger at them to see if perhaps they refill. When they don't, he finally pushes himself away from his lean against the bar and follows Lark, steps wobbly at first before they steady.
"Yes," Natalie says a touch shortly, turning to study Bahir rather than the crowd in that pause. After a long moment she recalls slowly-- "Shit. /Shit/. Did you see him? Did something happen?"
Elias is at the bar, nursing his fourth double of Tequila. He's definitely in the 'drunk' spectrum of things now, scowling as he stares at the clear liquid.
"It's his birthday, you know." Tangent, what? Without Natalie driving forward and dragging on, Bahir goes nowhere.
Natalie has no intention of letting them stay now that Bahir's talking, and she moves in to take his hand again, several kinds of support in one, and urges him away from the noise. "Shit," she says again, quieter. "I should have stayed. What happened?"
Vincent pushes up off his stool, leaning into the bar for support while he downs the shot. He lingers there for a moment, likely considering another.
Don't touch me please-- I cannot stand the way you tease-- I love you though you hurt me so-- Now I'm going to pack my things and go--
Percy watches the lights reflect off his tipped over glass and thinks vaguely about how sick he is going to feel in the morning.
Once again, Bahir shakes loose Natalie's hand, this time with a further slip on the leash of anger. "For/get/ it," he snaps. "Go fucking find Elias and talk to him, not me."
Finding one person in a crowded room is not an easy proposition. Especially with various chemical substances in one's bloodstream. Probably the only reason that Lark succeeds in her search is that she rightly assumed she would find Elias at the bar. Catching a glimpse of him finally, she approaches with purpose.
One minute passes, then two. But Vincent doesn't order anything else, and eventually sloths off the bar to start navigating his way through the crowd. "Still a lesbian?" is called after Lark in passing without real hope.
Jackson approaches with purpose, too, a pace behind Lark. "What were you /thinking/?" is his question to Elias, incredulous, but not as sharp as it might have been. For some reason he is sulky as he continues: "/Bahir/ was the hotter one."
Natalie doesn't fight the shake, and her hand falls to her side as she stares at Bahir. There is a noticable wince at the curse that follows the snap, and a darkening of her expression to follow. After a moment of silence she asks carefully, "Do you want me to walk home with you?"
Elias stiffens visibly at the first, though the expression on his face confesses he isn't entirely surprised by it. He turns around to face Jackson and finds Lark there too. He holds onto his glass firmly as his confusion grows at Jackson's second comment. "What the fuck?"
Percy wrenches away from the bar in a haphazard stagger. Such is his sudden and vehement force that the heel snaps right off his shoe and it barely slows him down. The look he shoots at Jackson, Elias and Lark encompassed is full of venom; and he's gone off at a haphazard hobble, taking off the shoes as he goes and hurling one of them behind him into the crowd at random.
The music again turns toward mellow, guitars lying over garbled murmurings before the lyrics become clear. I have to block out thoughts of you so I dont lose my head-- They crawl in like a cockroach leaving babies in my bed-- Dropping little reels of tape to remind me that Im alone--
"What the fuck yourself." Lark's tone has the snap that Jackon's lacked. Standing unsteadily in front of Elias she attempts to meet his gaze squarely. "Why did you kiss Natalie?"
"No." Bahir drags a hand over his face, rubbing at his eyes and along his jaw. "No, I'm not -- I'm going to go hit stuff for a while. I'll talk to you later, okay?" It isn't an apology, but it is sort of like one. If you squint. In the dark.
"Okay!" calls Vincent. "Bye!" And on he goes, patting over his jacket for cigarettes as he continues to shoulder out for the door.
Natalie is not quite in the mood for squinting at the moment, and thus the jerk of her head into a nod is less than forgiving, as is her turn away to pace toward the curb, where for a moment she stands and stares down the street, presumably in search of a cab.
"You picked wrong," Jackson explains sadly, and he lifts his hand to rub its heel against his eye, tiredly, pushing his sunglasses up to the top of his head in order to do so. He neglects to replace them afterwards, his usual self-conscious washed away by the three shots he's had. "Look, we should -- I should. Go."
Hate me today-- Hate me tomorrow-- Hate me for all the things I didn't do for you--
Elias eyes Percy back with a disturbed look before tossing back his drink and sets the glass down, searching for his wallet. He lays bills on the counter and eyes Lark for a second. "She was close. It felt right. And fuck you, Jackson. If I could have kissed Bahir, I would have. He's far less awkward." Wallet stuffed sufficiently back in his pocket, he eyes the both of them. "Okay?"
Vincent stumbles out through the doors with a cigarette already in his mouth, and a lighter in hand. He's lit up almost before he's managed to catch his balance, but his cell phone clatters out of his pocket onto the concrete. "Fuck."
Annoyance is not long lived for Lark. Elias' reaction sends her back through the spectrum of emotions to a distressed frown and wide eyes and she exlaims, "I'm /sorry/. I didn't mean it." She suddenly throws bare arms around his shoulders and buries her face against him saying again, "I'm sorry."
Jackson flinches backwards, shoulders stiffening. "You picked wrong," he mumbles again, frowning down at his feet. He flicks a glance up towards Lark and Elias, and then turns to head for the door.
"Okay, shhhh," Eli replies to Lark, rubbing her back lightly, giving Jackson while he does. When his boyfriend starts storming out, Eli sighs and speaks to Lark again. "Okay, we need to follow after Jackson because - well, we do, okay? Come on." He starts nudging Lark toward the door without entirely unwrapping her from himself. It's a three legged race!
"Okay." Lark is quite easily led at this point, though she does cling to Elias for a certain amount of support. And observe for no particular reason that, "You smell good."
As people begin to exit, the music becomes abruptly chipper, cheery, even. Soon, the chorus is blaring: My friends say I should act my age-- What's my age again?-- What's my age again?--