in and out of stages

[niceassassin.livejournal.com]

WHO: Zevran (niceassassin) and OPEN.
WHERE: Around the City.
WHEN: The night of Saturday, May 14th.
WARNINGS: Terrible references to sex. Anything else on a case-by-case basis.
SUMMARY: Zevran goes out to try to make up for the lost time during kid week. Come help him out, join him, or try to foil his plans: whichever is your fancy.
FORMAT: Whatever you prefer!

By noon on Saturday, the memory of the past week is clearly stretched out in Zevran's mind like a poisoning victim, and by late afternoon, he can no longer tolerate it. It has been a very long time since that kind of vulnerability and sentimentality was so fresh in his recall. Oh, yes, moments of it escaped during his journeys with the Grey Warden, but they were mostly controlled. This, this is different and unwelcome.

Fortunately, by the time dark is falling and the artificial lights that seem so excessive to him are coming on around the City, business as usual has mostly picked up again--at least in some places. The denizens of the City, newly freed from the spell, will be seeking contact with other adults. So the most popular of social places are scrambling to be ready for them--be they parks or clubs. Zevran's usual haunts are still getting their feet back under them: the gaming stores, the fantasy bookshops, they remain closed for now. But he's determined to take a positive view of things (all the better to forget how frightened and deluded he was before the spell ended). This is an opportunity to try out new grounds, to find out if the less nerdy demographics in the City are just as willing to enjoy the company of an attractive elf with a foreign accent and a ready smile.

And so begins this night's adventure: drifting from bar to pub to club, idly attempting to seduce the bouncers outside the latter, investigating the people within. And maybe keeping an eye out for anyone interesting outside, as well. It is a moderately cool night; he has an excuse for a jacket. Which means he can bring his dagger along, just in case violence enters the equation. He is not averse to that.

Comments

[meowminx]

Selina was having a drink or three at the Tool Shed. The bar was more crowded than usual. Probably facing their childhoods had inspired more drinking among the populace. She still felt responsible for the place, even though it had been months since Logan was ported out. So she was there to keep an eye on the place.

And of course to indulge in the stock. Since she was making sure that they were carrying all her favorites now.

[niceassassin.livejournal.com]

Crowded was okay with Zevran. It meant his own oddity was likely to be initially overlooked--and it meant there were more people to notice and be fascinated by it once he was noticed. But it was his turn to notice someone: Selina. For a moment, he debated ignoring her entirely. She'd made it clear he wouldn't be getting what he wanted tonight out of her, and she knew things about him that he wasn't sure he was comfortable with.

But...he liked her.

And so came the familiar voice over her shoulder: "Who is this Jack Daniels, and what must I do to emulate his popularity?"

[meowminx]

She looked back and gave him a smile. Sure, she had no intention of sleeping with him, but she rather liked him as well. He was amusing, and there was clearly more to him than he first let on.

"Be cheap and mix well with Coke." She waved at the bartender for one of those very drinks.

[niceassassin.livejournal.com]

"I am entirely free, or very expensive indeed." He grinned. "But cheap? That's not my style." He leaned over to peer at the bartender mixing the drink. "Coke is one of those 'soda' drinks, yes?" His tone becomes a little confessional. "It makes me slightly nervous. They all do. Every drink in this world, it is either outrageously sweet like a soda or ridiculously bitter like a coffee. There is no telling what poison could be hidden in such a thing."

[meowminx]

"Poison, huh?" The bartender passed her the glass. She took a small sip, swishing it around her mouth before handing the glass to him. "Tastes okay to me."

[niceassassin.livejournal.com]

He sighed and obligingly picked up the glass. "Culture shock." He took a sip. "I have been told that's the word for it. It sounds more pleasant than it is. But I'm learning. I should fear utter randomness, not predictable things like poisoned drinks."

[meowminx]

She leaned forward on the bar, sipping from her own glass of scotch. "Guess I'm one of the luckier ones. This world's pretty much the same as mine in most respects. Little more normal in some ways."

[niceassassin.livejournal.com]

He shook his head and glanced up from his drink to her, smiling only faintly. "Magic is normal to me. Killing dragons, not so much, but I have done it. They are absolutely terrifying but a fair deal for the treasure," he added. "At least, that has been my experience. I don't think we will ever have the same definition of normal. But it's not so bad, is it? I am looking forward to ruining other people's definitions that way."

[meowminx]

"There are plenty of ways to get treasure without killing anything more than the ego of whoever designed the security system." Because that's where her mind went from what he said. "And you don't have to be from another world to enjoy ruining definitions."

[diesarock]

It's a large city, as dense and thick with people as fog in autumn. Tonight the air is clear, but chill, and though the stars are blotted out, the slivers-shy of full moon hangs bright enough.

Terra is not much one for drinking -- truthfully, she's not old enough to legally enter bars or pubs here, let alone drink in them -- but a long and uninteresting tale of recognition, invitation, and unintentional blackmail gets her inside one such establishment. It's almost muggy for the number of people, and -- unlike Zevran -- she has gone without cloak or jacket.

She may not be a drinker of alcohol, but she serves well enough as chalice to the stories poured out.

[niceassassin.livejournal.com]

Right now, the story being poured out to an interested young woman seems to involve an elven clan fighting a pack of werewolves. Interestingly for anyone who actually knows how it all went down, it seems to be rather heavily edited to remove the more complex parts that involve secrets and centuries-old vengeance and instead include a lot of fanciful generic fantasy and adventure stuff.

Fortunately for Zevran, no one else here has ever been to the Brecilian Forest.

Unfortunately for Zevran, the interested young woman's boyfriend has just arrived.

Two minutes later, Zevran sinks into a chair next to Terra. "A more adventurous man would not have turned down that offer," he confides to her without being prompted.

[diesarock]

The first thing she notices about the man -- aside from the presence of a body and the sound of a voice, of course -- is his ears. Second is the markings, third is the phantasmal sensation of something like mist rolling across the back of her neck.

What he actually says, though, only ranks down somewhere near sixth or seventh. "More... adventurous?" she asks, for she is used to the word meaning something completely different than Zevran intends. Not, of course, that she knows this.

[niceassassin.livejournal.com]

He knows that the ears and the tattoos are noticeable. He is, in fact, counting on it. They tend to be attractive. The other thing? He has no idea about that whatsoever.

"Adventurous," he agrees, because he is well aware that Terra doesn't realize his intended meaning. "Oh, not so much in the sense of exploring new realms. I hear there are few of those left in this world. I was thinking more of exploring new beds."

[diesarock]

Intended meanings continue to be elusive, or at the very least do not engender the sort of reaction flirtations are aimed for. "What's to explore?" she returns, giving Zevran one of her entirely typical looks of confusion. "They're the same all over."

[niceassassin.livejournal.com]

He pauses. She looks young, yes, but not young enough to be that innocent. Especially with that fascinating hair of hers. Maybe it isn't dyed--maybe it's really that color? People here are very strange. "You have much to learn, my dear. There are many materials used in sheets, and they feel so very different against bare skin."

[diesarock]

If he examines closely -- and the lighting in the pub is amenable to such, the much more difficult matter -- her eyebrows and even eyelashes are hued to match. So, either it's natural, or the woman is very dedicated to the look.

She also seems rather dedicated to the curious looks, if mostly confused and off-guard expressions.

"Ah... you're interested in textiles?"

Maybe she's doing this intentionally.

[niceassassin.livejournal.com]

He does examine closely, because she's actually quite attractive, and that's what he does. Unfortunately, he's startled out of this study by her words. "Ah...not so much. The adventure is what goes on between the sheets. Shall I buy you a drink? Nothing too strong. You should keep your wits about you always in this City."

Besides, she's already weird enough without getting drunk.

[enigmaestro.livejournal.com]

It was a night worthy of drinking. The cards were stacked: Edward Nygma had the reality of James Bond to deal with, a week of traumatic childhood memories, and Eridan choosing a psychotic little clown to be his boyfriend -- he was in a mood to lose some touch of consciousness.

And so he sat barside, with a coppery bourbon by his hand, listening the to mild buzz of echoed conversation surround him. The Last Tango was chic and modern, full of youth and smug expression.

His kind of night.

[niceassassin.livejournal.com]

In truth, Zevran had little idea of the character of each bar he wandered into. Normally he'd have been good at judging such things--at telling what was a seedy dive, what was the nobility's watering hole, what was a seedy dive pretending it was the watering hole of nobility. That sort of thing. But the gap of a thousand years of technology, a greater lack of magic, and a very different culture stood between him and understanding. So he'd wandered into the Last Tango unaware that, within five minutes of entering, he'd be assaulted by a bespectacled young man in a scarf and a plaid shirt and talked at. Relentlessly.

"You realize that elves haven't been in since before Return of the King came out on the big screen, right?" It might be more accurate to spell that as 'realise,' actually, since this guy undoubtedly spells it that way when he types despite being completely American. "Even before that, it was only the posers who played as elves. Real fans, we're into dwarf culture and its connections to Semitic languages. You--"

Zevran arrowed directly for the bar and threw himself into the chair next to Edward. Had he not been trying to get away from the dreaded hipster, he might have thought twice about it. But he was compelled. "Ah, Mr. Bond's...friend, isn't it?"

[enigmaestro.livejournal.com]

At those unkind words, Eddie's nose wrinkled. Without giving so much as a glance to his fresh company, he signaled for the bartender.

"Two more bourbons, thanks." A beat followed before he spoke again. With emphasis. "For me." He looked over at Zevran, registering the familiar elf. It was an effort to keep his expression neutral, but he managed the feat with unwavering aplomb.

"Friend, well. Rather, he's my kismesis. We're registered and everything."

[niceassassin.livejournal.com]

There were definitely better people he could be talking to, Zevran reflected. He probably didn't have much chance of getting involved in anything enjoyable with this Edward. But now that he was in this place, it was better than talking to the race of beings dubbed "hipsters" by this society. "For you? Then one...gin and sin for me." He'd start mild with the naughty names for drinks, this time. He'd been learning.

He leaned forward attentively, blinking. "Kismesis? Does that involve kissing? Because usually, that leads to even more interesting activities."

[enigmaestro.livejournal.com]

There were few things that intimidated Eddie Nygma. Sexual innuendo and outright promiscuity wasn't one of them -- not for the man who hired his darling henchgirls straight out of a BDSM club.

Back when he was unreformed, anyway.

"Yes," purred Eddie, smirking into his first bourbon. "It involves the most kissing, but I won't tell you exactly where." Wordplay was the last refuge of those seeking refuge. His drink tasted warm and sharp, a melodic mix of musky undertones. It was a much needed comfort.

"I assume you're keen on Mr. Bond?"

[niceassassin.livejournal.com]

Fortunately, Zevran wasn't interested in being intimidating right now. He had other methods for when he was, and hanging out in bars letting humans lecture him about dwarves being cooler than elves (or, alternately, tug on his ears to see if they were real) were not among them.

Right now he regarded Eddie with amusement. He could tell when people were lying, or simply amusing themselves at his expense; he wouldn't still be alive if he couldn't. But he played along for now. "I'm so jealous. My heart would break were it not hardened into stone. Yes, ser Bond is quite dashing, isn't he? Very stylish, and handsome at that."

[enigmaestro.livejournal.com]

"I hear he has an opening for a significant other."

It was funny, because Eddie had caused Bond's last (public) significant other months of agonizing psychological trauma at the hands of an Endless. Absolutely hilarious. He polished off his bourbon easily, casually eying the second.

"Perhaps I could introduce you? In person, I mean, I'm aware of your flirtations over the Network. Everyone is." He offered a callous wink. "I daresay Jamesy could use some comfort upon his return."

[niceassassin.livejournal.com]

Zevran also eyed Eddie's second drink, while only casually sipping his own. He wondered just how much it would take to get the other man drunk, and how long he would carry on this game as it occurred. Oh, well. He wasn't getting the best vibe off the other people in this bar anyway--he had the vague feeling that if he picked up any of them, they'd tell him that his sexual positions were too mainstream. Call it a hunch. So he might as well see what he could learn from this man. Maybe it would be something interesting.

"Truly?" He gave his most winsome smile over his glass. "Because it sounds as if you are the one who is pining, my friend. He did mention you in such a way. I wonder..."