Cowboy Night
WHO: Schuldig (colpevole) ; Axel (fireveins) ; those who show up (full list to come!)
WHAT: Cowboy Night!
WHERE: The Warrior Princess
WHEN: Friday night
WELCOME TO THE WARRIOR PRINCESS.
[ooc: Hey guys! This is an open thread, and the reason I'm putting it up now is so that everyone who wants to participate will have a chance to do so at their leisure, and work ( Read more... )
WHAT: Cowboy Night!
WHERE: The Warrior Princess
WHEN: Friday night
WELCOME TO THE WARRIOR PRINCESS.
[ooc: Hey guys! This is an open thread, and the reason I'm putting it up now is so that everyone who wants to participate will have a chance to do so at their leisure, and work ( Read more... )
A friend, maybe, or some loner who wanted to talk. Someone looking for information; to make a deal; to get drunk.
The sound of their boots clacking across the hard floor beat out the time to Patsy. Schuldig, personally, was expecting a few people-if they didn't show, he'd be pissed-and he was looking forward to Cowboy Night as an institution. He was also looking forward to shaking it like a Polaroid picture, but that was another story entirely, and for a time when more customers showed.
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If he wanted to be 'difficult', Neroli could play that game too.
And part of that game, now, was moving away to dance by himself for a bit, going a little crazy with the hips this time, before returning to face Surefire. Neroli made sure that their eyes met the whole while they were grinding, an extremely pleased smirk spreading across his face. His hands even went back to gripping Surefire's hips to make ( ... )
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Because, okay. Sure. He would be fucking jealous. But that was because Gojyo could dance like this, right, and any time he thought about Gojyo giving someone else this much fucking fun, he could also say, Who wouldn't be jealous?
Morons who didn't know what they wanted, that was who.
And then-Gojyo's hand. The bad hand. The one you could never escape and could never stop thinking about. "Baby," he warned, eyes ( ... )
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As they came together again, a sincere smile crossed Neroli's face. "Well, wouldn't wanna get ya fired, now would I?" It might have been happy coincidence, then, that the third song turned out to be a slow one - a real slam on the breaks from what they'd just been doing, but maybe that was why the DJ took so long to bleed the tracks together ( ... )
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He was still close to Schuldig and glad he was, because he shut his eyes just then and continued the thought silently as his hands subconsciously gripped just a little tighter. I thought I'd lost ... your friendship, your presence, your energy, you.
It had been... scary, really. For eleven years Gojyo had known nothing of discomfort. Then, from the time he waseleven until age eighteen, the whole world flipped on its head and was forever changing around him - first was how to stay alive, then where to live and which job to hold. No more friendships, no more family, no more church, no partner to work alongside for more than a one shot deal.
Now, four years later, something, someone was still around ( ... )
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Especially at a club, there was no way for slow songs to last forever. Although, thankfully, the DJ managed to bleed it all the way out and give everybody a brief accouncement over the intercom rather than jamming it all the way back up again so soon.
"C'mon, yer friends'r waitin' - all fifty-three'a 'em." Of course Gojyo meant Badou and Curaforodi, but he could allude to the other patrons as well, who he was sure would be grateful to have their second bartender back ( ... )
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Really, though, Badou was glad that he had an excuse to do something besides watch Schuldig and Gojyo dance. Not because it wouldn't be hot. But just, well, because ( ... )
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"I must have missed the day they had that in," he said, playing along with the joke, and taking a sip of his drink.
He'd grown so used to faking interest in conversations in order to gain a business advantage, it had been a long time since he'd initiated one just for the hell of it. Well, they said Italy was supposed to be relaxing.
He was fairly certain that "they" weren't talking about Reggio Calabria when they said that, but to each his own. It wasn't exactly the sort of place most people would find relaxation, but Crawford had made a tidy sum from selling weapons and the like to the city's men-about-town. He found money relaxing. He wouldn't call himself comfortable, exactly, since his ambitions rarely allowed him to rest at whatever position he'd carved out for himself, but it was a nice place to be in ( ... )
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Maybe it was because they'd spent so many nights before this one sitting in not-quite-such-close, but still close enough, proximity-but Badou felt as though there were things that it was all right for him to leave unsaid. Not just idle chitchat about the weather, but important things. Things like "Thanks for…" well, for whatever it was that Crawford had done at the moment that he'd slid one seat over and decided to take part in their round of introductions.
He liked that. And he liked Crawford. Liked him in that sense of rapport and affinity that people sometimes called chemistry. It was funny how just a few short words could move him from nonchalant indifference to actually liking the guy. But whatever, the point was that he knew that Crawford was watching him, and it was ( ... )
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That smile meant that his new compatriot was planning something. Badou wasn't sure exactly what, but hey, they were on the same page here, right? And that was what mattered. Besides, Badou really was a natural follower if he had someone around worth following. He liked having someone around worth following; he'd even put up with a lot of shit sometimes for the sake of having that person who wanted to take the lead. It was sort of comforting: it simplified things when all you had to do was decide that you were with someone ( ... )
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He smiled. Now that was a good show.
Gojyo resumed his seat and sipped on his beer, a smug look on his face as he decided to leave his coat off for now. He had no doubt that he was sweaty, his ponytail hanging limp at the base of his neck and his cowboy hat cocked sideways, but this was his testament to how awesome a dance that had been.
Neroli dancing with Surefire.
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Claire wasn't dressed up save for a cute pink cowboy hat, blending in just enough to pass as just any other person in there. A part of her missed cheerleading, and being the life of the party before the Commission had taken that away from here. This was just a slice of that, and here she was, working.
Against the "rules," to boot. Awkwardly chewing on her lip, she sighed as she took a seat at one of the corner tables to look around for anyone she knew, if only from the commission.
Not one.
Supposedly there'd be a brawl tonight, and no matter what Detective Usaki was going to tell her she could or could not do, she'd be here to "have fun," namely by keeping notes of the events, taking out a few people, and taking bullets for those who needed bullets taken for them.
For all the Commission knew, this could be her hobby, her idea of fun.
Right.
They couldn't complain, anyway, and that was all that really mattered. So, preparing for the worst, she waited, a yawn slipping past her lips as she did so.
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