The Huggy Lady

Laurel Hensley
Rapture is a relatively new establishment along the Colfax strip, having been opened to the public in December.  It sits on the site of what was once...well, a strip club.  I know, no points for originality there, but when you're looking to start up a new business location is key, and this little spot of real estate just off of Colfax is perfect for such an establishment.  And thus the sign out front was changed from "Diamond Cabaret" to "Rapture" and the inside was renovated.

And by "renovated" we mean "turned up a notch."  The Diamond's biggest problem is that it tried to be a respectable gentlemen's club.  There are much nicer places one can go if they want to pretend they're celebrities and make it rain amidst bottles of Cristal.  When Kali took over the club she immediately set to giving it a makeover that added touches of sleaze...but not so many that it was the kind of place you'd be embarassed to be found in, necessarily.  She simply found the term "family-friendly gentlemen's club" to be an oxymoron, and the man who thought such a business would find itself in the black a full moron.  The walls were given a paper that gives off vague memories of the 1970s, the floor and upholstery colored reds and blacks.  There's plenty of lighting for the main stage, and not much for the rest of the club.  It puts the right person in the spotlight and keeps the patrons in the dark.

There are also VIP rooms and private dance areas, the later cordoned off by curtains.  The alcohol flows free from a bartender who looks like she probably dances when she's not serving drinks (she does).  And upstairs are the real private rooms, where you can get a fetish show.  It's just that mix of glamour, lust and trashy that makes for a perfect strip club.

This isn't Laurel's kind of place as a rule.  But she's been in here looking for a mark, and her information gathered she's stopped for a drink at the bar.  She's dressed in her work clothes (not that she has other clothes): jean jacket, tank top, jeans and steel-toed boots.  She looks around the club, watching the patrons more than the girl on stage who is moving to the sounds of "Pour Some Sugar On Me."  (Always go with the classics, says the boss.)  She isn't particularly disgusted by the display; a strip club is no better or worse than any other bar.  Shitty people everywhere.

Jade
[do i spy with my little eye a LAUREL??]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (2, 5, 5, 7, 8, 9) ( success x 3 )

Jade
This isn't Laurel's kind of place.  It doesn't look like the kind of place one Jade Castle would be found, at least not by one Laurel Hensley.  When Laurel saw the girl she was wandering alone on wobbly newborn fawn legs, apparently blushing and embarrassed/pleased to have a craggy old man bow to her.  Young and precious and impressionable, wondering if her oversized housecat (hah) ever got lonely without others of her kind to play with.

A woman walks into a strip club and she is dressed to kill.  Her hair is a tumble of glossy black curls that spills over a bare shoulder, held in place seemingly by magic.  The dress: dark red and looks like it was vacuum sealed onto her body, with cut-outs to expose her shoulders and the insides of her arms but otherwise long sleeves.  The shoes: black platform pumps with a five inch heel and a zippered strap closed over her ankles.  Her face is so heavily made up - dark dark dark shadow and thick dark liner, longer lashes than she was born (or died) with, bright dark red lipstick - she is almost unrecognizable.

More than her outward appearance is different.  She walks into the club like she owns the place, head held high and chin raised like she's the ruler of all she surveys.  Actually, she's just looking for someone.  Whoever it is, she spots Laurel at the bar and her brows lift and her eyes widen, and she does something that Laurel Hensley would never ever approve of.

"EEEEEEE!!!"  Carefully reckless, Jade runs - or runs as well as one can in that get up, to the bounty hunter.  She reaches for the woman's hands and exclaims, "Laurel!  How are you?"

Stephen Andrássy
That makes three of them who don't consider this their kind of place. Only the blond man standing not at the stage in the center of the room but at the bar looks as if he finds this whole thing fascinating. Like he's wandered in off the street thinking he was just going to sit down and watch American sports like baseball or wrestling and instead he's looking at a couple of mostly-nude women bouncing around on the stage.

For science.

Men in places like this tend to blend together because they all wear the same sharp-eyed expression if this is not their first time in the joint and the same slack-jawed one if it is. This man stands out because he looks bored. Like he's waiting for a bus.

And he's dressed as if he didn't get the memo that banker's hours end at five o'clock on Friday. He wears a three-piece suit with Oxford shoes. No overcoat because it is cold tonight but not below freezing. Not cold enough to shoot icicles into the soft tissue. He is tall and wears his facial hair neatly trimmed and wears his hair neatly combed and the bartender keeps staring at him because he's hardly touching his drink.

She told him Kali might be by sometime tonight. So he seems to be intent to just stand here all fucking night and wait for Kali. In the meantime he's watching the squealing intersection of a young thing in impractical shoes and a hardened woman in ass-kicking boots. That's more interesting than bare breasts.

Laurel Hensley
Laurel is an observant girl...she is.  She has to be for her work, and she is capable of seeing things out of place.  However, she only briefly glances in the direction of Jade and then looks away.  She looks so very much different than that strange, harlmess creature who needed protecting from Kragen in fromt of the zoo.  And Laurel will be embarrassed (inwardly) that she didn't make the connection, even though there's quite the difference.

And that's exactly why she is caught completely unaware when she hears that happy squeal and suddenly there's a girl in front of her reaching for her hands.  She's completely thrown off guard; no one comes up toward her excitedly.  If there's any pitched emotion, usually its fear as they're trying to get away from her (and the prison sentence she will deliver them to).  Her synapses fire and several different thoughts come off:

Get away!  Someone's attacking; hit them!  Play it cool, it's just the girl with the cat.  Give a scowl to back her up!  Say you have to go to the bathroom!

All of those come together and cloud her mind, and she basically just jumps up off her chair.  Otherwise she stands there staring at Jade, brain malfunctioning for a moment.

"Uh...hi."

She doesn't notice Stephen over there, her attention pretty much taken up by the ball of bubbly that just assailed her.

Jade
Jade reaches for Laurel's hands and maybe she manages to touch them and maybe she doesn't.  If she does the contact is brief, a light press against Laurel's hands (cool, dry) before they're away again.  If Laurel's reaction startles her or seems out of place she doesn't show it.

She doesn't notice Stephen, either, at least not as anything other than another man who came to a strip club.  Unless they are a politician such people all look the same to Jade.

"I was hoping we'd run into each other again," she says, not paying any mind to the strange looks she's obviously getting now.  That was a rather girlish squeal and it makes people wonder how someone who would make such a noise would get in here.  Is she old enough to be here?  It's hard to tell.  Even without makeup Jade's appearance rests somewhere in the range between late teens and early twenties.  "I didn't think it'd be so soon."

She shifts her weight, and suddenly her legs on those tall shoes give a wobble and she practically falls against the chair.  "Whoa!" she says, and laughs, cheeks dimpling with an embarrassed smile.  "My friends dared me to come in here, even gave me the shoes.  How do I look?" she asks once she's seated, crossing one ankle over the other, straightening her spine, and posing for the hardened bounty hunter.  Without waiting for Laurel's response (of course I look amazing) she continues, "But what are you doing here?"

Her eyes go wide and she leans toward Laurel and asks in a loud whisper, "Are you looking for a bounty?"

Laurel Hensley
She manages to make contact with Laurel's hands indeed and it's good that she takes them away quickly, as the bail enforcer likely would have started again and made a fool out of herself.  Instead the hands slip away before the kine has a chance to think about how cool they are.  She gives Jade a second look over now, and it is certainly occurring to her that Jade might be a little bit young for such a place.  She's seen all kinds in the sex industry after all, so it wouldn't shock her if Jade is a dancer with a baby face.

Now that she's had a moment to compose herself, Laurel recovers a bit and settles down on her stool again.  She finds this girl intriguing for a lot of reasons, not the least of which being that she felt compelled to look out for her against Kragen.  Was it because of Kragen himself, who is certainly dangerous?  Considering her negative opinion of the man following their conversation it's likely.  Or maybe she just didn't want to see someone with such an apparently giddy view of things torn down.  She sees enough innocence destroyed, after all.

There's a little smile as she watches the girl talk.  When she nearly falls, Laurel can't quite help moving as if to keep her from falling.  That would draw more eyeballs to them, and Laurel likes keeping herself low-key until she needs otherwise.  But Jade stays upright and she smirks, shaking her head.

"You look, uh...good."  She nods a little bit, watching Jade.  Her attention shifts around as a natural habit, pausing on Stephen before looking back.  "I think you could use some practice with the shoes, though.  You're gonna break your ankles if you keep wearing shoes like those without knowing how to walk in them."

Jade whisper-asks about a bounty and the older (hah! older, right) woman nods a little.  "Not in here, but work brought me here.  One of my marks is known to come here.  He has a thing for the younger kind.  You know, the Barely 18 set?"  She wrinkles her nose at the though, eyes narrowing a bit.  "Statutory charge.  So I needed to ask a few questions about where I might be able to find him.  Not much luck though.  Like most sleaze houses, these guys don't seem to ask a lot of questions of their clientele."  She snorts.  "Or more likely, don't tell the information they ask."

Jade
[do i notice the creeper creeping on us?]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (3, 6, 7, 7, 7, 8) ( success x 5 )

Stephen Andrássy
[do i manage not to act like a total creep?]

Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 2, 3, 4, 10, 10) ( success x 2 )

Jade
It certainly wouldn't be the first time in history that someone who seems as young and sweet as Jade found themselves in the sex working trade.  The business gets a bad wrap, mostly by far right religious conservatives who would have all women everywhere live essentially as Ferengi women: naked in the home and only ever visible to their husbands.

But fact is, not every woman who steps up onto that stage has daddy issues or is trying to make ends meet for the accidental pregnancy waiting for them at home.  Some of them dance because they love to dance, or because it really is good money, or any of about a thousand other possibilities.

Jade could very easily be one of them.  She is pretty and slender and charming, could probably get up on that stage right now and make out with a few hundred dollars without removing a stitch of clothing.

Laurel says she looks good but could use some practice with the shoes, and Jade laughs while stretching one foot forward.  "I think I might just do that.  They make my ass look aMAZing."

Then Laurel describes her mark and what she's after and Jade does not have to feign an intrigued interest.  She is very interested in what Laurel does for many reasons.  Leaning to the side, she rests her elbow on the bar, making herself comfortable like this is just any ol' place and not the bar at a strip club.  That's when she notices the man who is not watching the mostly nudes gyrating on the stage, but them.  Jade blinks.  And she shifts her head down a little.

"Laurel that man is watching us," she says quietly, and she is again that young and fragile thing, unnerved by the looks and advances of the other sex.

[help me Laurel-Wan Kenobi you're my only hope!  manip+subt (hidden motive)]

Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (3, 3, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10) ( success x 4 )

Jade
[5 suxx]

Laurel Hensley
[[Per+Subterfuge.  Hey, it could happen!]]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 2, 3, 6) ( success x 1 )

Stephen Andrássy
[perc + subt: la la la]

Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (3, 5, 8, 8, 9, 10, 10) ( success x 5 )

Laurel Hensley
Laurel doesn't have anything against dancers as a rule.  The lifestyle has a lot of pitfalls to it of course; it's not all about daddy issues or other personal failings but there's a prevalence of drugs in play and the exploitation is there.  In truth, the bounty hunter feels more sympathy for those in the sex trade than anyone else (which is not to say she has a lot, at least overtly) because it's a way to make money.  At least they're out getting theirs if its by choice and if its not...well, she's not one to judge.  She beats the shit out of people and drags them in to be tossed in jail for a living.

She smirks when Jade says the shoes make her ass look amazing.  "They have a tendency to do that, yeah."  They may be very different people, Jade and Laurel, but she appreciates the girl's enthusiasm and sense of humor.  She doesn't have the traits that most often set her off in women, at least that she's seen.

But then, Jade looks over and sees Stephan and she puts on the act.  Laurel nearly avoided falling for it the first time, at the zoo, but she was sucked in.  This time...maybe it's the club.  Maybe it's because it worked so well the first time, or maybe it's Laurel's generally negative opinion of men who come to places like this (she finds more marks in strip clubs than a lot of other places).  Or maybe it's just because the last man she encountered with Jade left a negative impression on her and it's starting to spread to other guys.  But she frowns, looking at him hard across the floor.

"Do you know him?" she answers back, slipping off the stool again and picking up her drink for a sip as she sort of positions herself where she can intercept if he approaches.

Stephen Andrássy
Though his attention was diverted by the high-pitched noise and the tearing of one woman towards the next to accuse the man of staring right at them would be inaccurate. Should he have chosen to he would not need to stare right at them in order to overhear their conversation. This is not the proper environment with which to spy on people from a distance though. Too noisy. The music is loud and the bass throbbing and the conversations between the floor-roving dancers and the customers competing with it.

A lap dance is happening nearby and that is something that the man glances at once because he has no idea what her gyrations are supposed to accomplish.

The moment the man looks away from the lap dance and back over at the two women is the moment Jade feels eyes on them and catches him. Points him out. He doesn't have to feign anything. He is oblivious of having attracted their attention until Jade leans down to whisper to Laurel and Laurel fires a shot across his nose.

That catches his attention. They can't tell from the distance because his face doesn't change. It's not a mask but he also doesn't appear too troubled by the potential hiccup in his evening. One of them is dressed as if she works here and the other one looks like poorly disguised security or an undercover cop.

Not a lot of people would be watching them instead of the dancers.

He brings his whatever-and-Coke to his mouth and glances towards the door as it opens.

Jade
If Jade had been aware of his presence before she might have noticed him spreading his attention out over the club, and she wouldn't have thought anything of it.  But she happens to glance over in time to see him looking back in a way that seems suspicious.  And Laurel, well, Laurel's already half on the hook thanks to the other night.  Might as well try to snag her a little more securely.

She asks if she knows him and she shakes her head, eyes lowered demurely.  Why would she know anyone in this place?  This isn't the place a girl like Jade would be in, right?  She said her friends dared her, even got her the clothes to go clubbing to make her look like a patron of some kind (not enough skin showing for her to be a worker here, only her shoulders and a good portion of her legs).

Jade darts a glance back over and he's looking away now, toward the door.  Looking at Laurel she shudders suddenly.  "That felt gross, I'm going to go to the bathroom.  Save my seat?"

She rises then and makes her somewhat wobbly way off in the direction she saw the restroom signs.

Laurel Hensley
He's looking away, but his attention does shift back to them.  She's not making much of a secret about the fact that she's watching back behind that glass against her lips, and there's a little nod as Jade teeters her way to the bathroom.  Laurel walks the girl go off--okay, she's right about the shoes, but still.  She's going to break her ankles if she keeps that shit up.

And so she's looking back at Stephen now.  Laurel is a lot of things, and not all of them good.  She doesn't have the temper that her closest (?) friend once had, but she does have impulse control issues.  And she is extremely confident that she can handle herself in all situations.  And she's direct; she doesn't often slide her way around issues as a rule.  And that's why the glass, emptied, is now making a ring of wetness on its napkin and Laurel is crossing her way to Stephen.  She doesn't have that intensity or scowl that suggests a fight is imminent, but she's confronting this situation head on.

"Hey."  She looks at him now, distinctly unconcerned about any potential threat as she just walks up to him.  "You enjoying the view?"

Laurel Hensley
[[Change all references of "across the floor" to "down the bar"]]

Finch
The vibrating thump of music rattles his bones and shakes his organs. It's a sudden smack in the face if you aren't prepared to have the banality of East Colfax laid to waste by the sound of Jason Derulo or ACDC. It makes his eyes narrow. His lips thin and spread sharp and dangerous like the edge of a straight razor.

He's dressed like a business man except that the closer you get the more apparent the cut of his suit becomes: The material is expensive and each stitch is done by someone else's hand. His skin is slightly pale and his hair is coiffed neatly, even his shoes are shined up like a mirror before handprints dull it's shine.

He doesn't head for the stage or any of the dancers wandering the floor looking for some sucker to pay for a lap dance that gets his cock hard and in the end doesn't deliver. Those girls are hardened and guarded. His eyes are keen, like a cat hunting the mouse that he can't see but can smell, looking for the girls who live in a world that's backward and blossom's are buried and roots are bare reaching for grey skies. He can spot them pretty quickly. He's good at this.

Talking. That's all it takes. Talking, small questions tossed lightly in the air. And waiting, there's always a little of that. He eases past a few tables, eyes hungry for the tender spot in everyone he passes so he can reach in and tear the heart out of the world.

"Whiskey sour." He smiles again, gives the person behind the bar a large bill and tells them to leave him an open tab. He looks one way and finds nothing of interest, then the other and has a thoughtful look at the other man in the suit. A nod and a lift of his glass is given to Stephen just as Laurel is approaching.

Stephen Andrássy
Interesting. In hindsight he will wonder if the other man in the suit was lifting his glass in accordance with local custom - hey! you're wearing a suit! i too am wearing a suit! good job! - or if he was trying to warn him about the impending shit storm in jeans and steel-toed boots. It doesn't matter. The tall blond man was looking away and in looking away his culpability skyrockets.

When he looks back there she is. All confrontation and refusal to take shit. The man stands nearly a head taller than she does and he frowns when she asks if he's enjoying the view.

"The view?" he asks.

Christ: his accent is so thick not even the music can overtake it. His countered question comes out sounding like Sah vee-oo-uh? Thank you, Hungarian, for not having a 'th' sound or diphthongs. His glass is mostly sweat by now and he's hardly put a dent in the contents. It's set down and he turns towards her. Ignored for now. Maybe he thinks she's looking for a fight. Or this is some strange way of picking up dudes.

Then a lightbulb comes on. His eyebrows lift.

"Ah! The view!" He gestures to where she stood with Jade a moment ago. "With your friend whose shoes are so tall! Yes, I did watch so. She did shout your name and run with the big shoes on her feet, I was thinking 'Ach, she will fall, surely!' but she did not fall. Very good."

Laurel Hensley
Def Leppard has changed out as the dance track, that one having finished up; we're onto Marilyn Manson and "Beautiful People" as Raven, a gothic-themed dancer makes her way out onto the stage.  She's good at attracting the men's attention, probably one of the better dancers here at the club in terms of her athletic talents and ability to command people's attention.  That's drawing the attention of the guys (and some women of course) at the tables, though the confrontation ramping up may be drawing eyeballs to it for those near the bar.

Not that Laurel is yelling or being aggressive yet.  Yet.  She glances over at Finch as he comes up to the bar near Stephen, giving him just a moment's notice before she turns back to the man she approached.  She raises an eyebrow as he speaks in that heavy accent.  Oh great.  Eurotrash, that explains the creep factor.  He figures out what she means by "the view" but didn't quite gather that she was hinting it was inappropriate.

"Yeah well, you're freaking my...friend," she doesn't seem too sure if that's the right word, but she goes with it, "the fuck out.  So do me a favor.  Keep your buggy little eyes on the ladies who are getting paid.  That's why they're here, you know?"

Look at her, being all reasonable and not throwing punches.  It's almost like she doesn't want to get kicked out...which makes sense, considering she has to come here enough to find her marks.

Finch
The lift of the glass could have been easily taken as a warning or greeting to another fellow in a suit. The apologetic look that Finch offers Stephen says it was probably a warning, though. There's no dashing smile spared for Laurel, no thoughtful looks or slow lazy blinks of his eyes. He looks away and leaves Stephen to sink, swim or tread water. For now.

The drink he ordered is delivered and he lifts it to lips and then sits it back down, ears bent toward the conversation between Stephen and Laurel. He listens to the innocent explanation from the man from Hungary and then the pointed words from Laurel.

Then he does smile, and turn with one hand still on his drink. He's not sitting on a stool, he's leaning with elbows on the bar. "Hey, I'm sure it's just a misunderstanding, yeah?" He says to both parties in the conversation that has nothing to do with him. "Different countries and cultures and all that. Hey, let me buy you and your friend a drink and I'll keep an eye on my man here."

"Deal?"

Stephen Andrássy
After the initial for-his-own-amusement show at not understanding what she meant a stillness settles over the man. Still no interest in his drink. He folds one forearm across the bar and keeps the other hand in his pocket. Casual posture that isn't meant to make her feel more at ease.

It doesn't mean a thing to him whether she thinks he's being a creep. If Laurel takes nothing else away from this exchange the most obvious one will be that this guy does not give two shits about how his behavior affects her.

"Do you a favor." That's adorable. "This does not sound like a favor, this sounds like you are making a threat. What are you to do if I do not do this thing, eh?"

Jade
Has it...has it been long enough?  Jade has been in the women's restroom all this time, leaned against the wall of a stall examining her nails.  Bored.  How long do women take to go to the bathroom?  This isn't a dance club, the line for the women's restroom doesn't trail practically to the door, and in fact women haven't been coming in here since she entered.  Without a watch there's been no way to tell.

It has to be enough time.  A minute later and she's stepping out of the women's restroom, running her hands over her hips as though to make sure her dress is still smooth.  Sharp dark eyes scan the room, spot Laurel over up close and personal with the man who'd been staring.  There's another close to her, a newcomer.  Jade doesn't like the way they're looking at her bounty hunter.

She returns, making her way back a little more easily than she'd walked away - practice must be paying off.  That doesn't mean that she's completely steady, though.  There's still a shakiness that makes her seem more delicate on first glance.

"LaurAH!" she is a few steps away when her foot gives a horrible shaking wobble, her knee gives out, and she goes sailing for the floor.

Laurel Hensley
Finch tries to intervene, and it does do Laurel the favor of diverting her attention for the moment.  She doesn't quite relax, but his explanation is enough logic to get through to her pessimistic shell and give her a cause to see reason.  She frowns at this new man, looking him over and is about to accept his agreement, though not the drink.  She buys her own damned drinks, thanks.

But before she can, Stephen speaks up and all of Finch's good work is for naught.  She gets a hard look to her eyes and smiles, looking the guy over.  He has a good four inches on her, but she doesn't look intimidated.  She's handled bigger guys than her before.  (Of course, they were alive.)  But that last bit...the What are you to do if I do not do this thing--it sounds very, very similar to something somone else recently said, and that sets her off a bit.

"I'm not making a threat.  If I make threats, you'll know it.  There'll be lots of references to things shoved in locations where they don't belong and broken body parts.  If you don't do it, then you'll be seeing what happens when I don't bother to threaten.  I really don't want that, mostly just because I would hate to get kicked out of here.  But I'll risk it to put you in traction if you don't stop."

And then out of nowhere--Laurel's focused on Stephen and didn't see the woman come up--there's Jade falling, and she turns to catch the poor girl and keep her from slamming into the floor.  "JESUS.  You okay?"

[[Str+Athletics]]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 4, 8, 8, 10) ( success x 4 ) [WP]

Finch
Things were going swimmingly. Laurel was listening to the devil's voice of reason and he hadn't even flexed any of his (weak as hell blood) muscle. But Stephen speaks up and one eyebrow hitches above a brown eye and he is left to shrug helplessly and tip his drink toward Stephen in yet again another half hearted warning and faint apology.

The drink is back at his lips, though it doesn't seem to be lowering in the glass any. That's about when Jade takes a tumble from those too high heels she's got on and maybe Finch's reflexes are just too slow...dulled by alcohol or whatever else is in his system...or else he just doesn't care.

Why would he? Laurel has it handled and he turns to the side slightly so he can be watch the trio, saying a whole lot of nothing right then.

Stephen Andrássy
Laurel isn't making a threat. The man starts to look bored about the point she mentions broken body parts and squints around the time she says she'll see what happens when she doesn't bother to threaten. Not because he's confused. He's stifling a yawn.

So it's a good thing Jade comes out of the bathroom and almost eats it when her ankle rolls and takes her knee with it. The blond man has already been warned about keeping his buggy eyes to himself. He doesn't even look over to make sure she's alright. Just turns away from Laurel and knits his fingers together and glances sidelong at the gentleman in the tailored suit.

"'Different countries and cultures'?" he asks. "I am from Chicago."

Good one, Hungary.

Jade
There are some things that Jade learns as she starts to make her way rather rapidly toward the floor, her head surely about to connect with a stool or perhaps even the bar itself.  None of it comes as any surprise to her.  The important thing is that no one is paying enough attention to her, at least not any real attention to her to notice if anything was off about that tumble.

Then strong, warm, living arms are wrapping around her and arresting that fall.  Hauling her upright.  Jade has the presence of mind to make herself blush beneath the make-up she wears - and warm her skin and oh yes breathe, must not forget to breathe.  Laurel is too close now for her to forget to do these things.

When her feet, still strapped to those five inch monstrosities, are beneath her again she is breathless and blushingly embarrassed.

"Oh my god thank you," she says, resting her hands on Laurel's jacketed shoulders to make sure that she is in fact not going to suddenly drop again.  Yes, yes, this is just a klutzy barely legal girl - probably got in on a fake ID, probably not even old enough to vote let alone drink and watch half-naked women dance and serve drinks - out in a strip club for the first time in her young life.

"I'm okay, I'm-" a glance at Stephan and she bites her lip.  "Hey why are you talking to this creep?" she asks, taking a step back.

Verna Gardner
Verna was set up. It's one of those things that the young and young-at-heart do to each other, isn't it? The daring, the you-don't-want-to-be-a-prude-ing, the peer pressure. And she caved, she did.

That's the only reason why Verna -- small and shy and ever so obsessed with appearances -- would ever step foot in a place like Rapture. With 'friends'. Who dragged her there. Horrifyingly against her better judgement.

She steps into the place last, after three giggling women in their twenties who are already a bit sloshed. Verna's a good driver. Why do you expect she got pressured so hard, eh? Tonight, she wears her girls' night outfit, black leggings, and a deep purple sweater-dress with a cowl-neck that looks like she could hide her whole head inside, if properly arrayed. Looks like she'd really love to do just that right about now. She follows the others, keeping with the flock, keeping her eyes off the other patrons, because ugh. Humiliating. Who would want to make eye contact with anyone in a place like this? The floor is easier to look at, by far.

But then, the eyes wander, glance for moments at the writhing flesh that they're all ostensibly there to see. And she blushes.

The others head toward a table to go debauch themselves, and Verna joins them, trying very hard to pretend she isn't actually there.

Finch
Finch shrugs at Stephen, pushing and willing his blood to give him a little more hint of life. A little pink to the cheeks and spark in his dead shark-like eyes. His skin warms by just a few degrees as he brings his drink to his lips.

"And I am from the rolling hills of France." He says in a weak and half hearted attempt at throwing the accent of some Frenchie here on loan from a country across a great big sea.

"Your friend didn't seem to excited to see you." He dips his head back toward Laurel and Jade as one helps the other to her feet again.

(How good is that accent, Finch and are you even really trying?)

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 6, 8, 8, 10) ( success x 4 )

Laurel Hensley
It's a good thing that she has a girl tangled in her arms and being set upright, or she probably would have started something with Stephen's exaggerated attempts to be a douchebag.  But she couldn't care less at the moment and instead helps Jade find her feet underneath her.  Her whole attitude makes Laurel exasperated and a little protective at this point.  No one should be this much of a walking target for the dangers the streets have.

Oh, Laurel.  You naive woman.

"Okay, good," she says when Jade says she's okay.  Then the girl asks why Laurel's talking to Stephen and she shrugs, helping Jade straighten her outfit so nothing's poking out that shouldn't be.  "Because someone needed to tell Eurotrash McDateRape that he needed to back off.  Might as well have been me."

She's not trying to be quiet about it, either.  Their lack of caring about each other's esteem is mutual.  She's seen a million like him before, she thinks.  Sent more of a few of them back to jail.  "Relax, you're fine."

Stephen Andrássy
It's an impeccable French accent. If the man spoke French he might have appeared more impressed. Might have even been fooled by his imitation. But the man doesn't appear to give any more shits about this interruption than he does the one instigated by Laurel and Jade.

Who he is continuing not to look at. Though she's right next to him and he can hear the flattering nickname she coins for him the tall man doesn't react to it. He brings the glass to his lips again and looks over at the flock of bachelorettes that just came in.

And his gaze lingers again. Same matte interest as he had shown Laurel and Jade. Only he's not looking at the entire interaction. One person in the group has his interest. One person and now the door. Nothing says 'awkward' like running into one's employer at a breast bar.

Jade
[percept+subt, seriously doubting either specialty applies so]

Dice: 8 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 6, 7) ( success x 3 )

Jade
Laurel helps her straighten out her dress, and Jade makes no moves to stop her or push her away.  Let the woman be annoyed with this delicate, fawn-like innocent(?) girl.  In all the wrongest places at all the wrongest time.

Some day maybe Laurel will look back and curse herself for ner na vet , but tonight she is all about the Good Deeds and is fulfilling her role as Staunch Defender perfectly.  Jade would applaud her, but, no.  No she wouldn't.

The creeper creep is looking pointedly away from them, give Jade a good few moments to study his profile openly and curiously, with only the slightest tension between her brows to betray her discomfort.  The Frenchman who has managed to slip his way into the conversation drops his American accent and Jade?

Jade looks at Laurel and her mouth quirks to the side.

"I don't think he got it, and you know I think I've been in here long enough to clear my dare.  I'm going to go home."

A glance is swept over Stephan, shifted toward Finch for a longer and more open appraisal.  Then she looks at Laurel, opens her mouth like to say something but stops, closes her mouth, shakes her head and runs her fingers through the curls still spilled over her bare shoulder.  Looks away.

"It was good seeing you."  Like a young woman who realizes now that she's wandered into the wrong sort of place for her.  Laurel, maybe your nights of having to look out for her and feel protective over her are at an end.

Wrong.

Jade lifts her free hand, the other busy wrapping a curl around her index finger, and she waves at Laurel before turning away.  Giving them all a gander at that nearly perfect rump, nicely accented by those ridiculous heels.  She still wobbles now and again-

-at least until she's out the door.

Verna Gardner
Verna is only vaguely aware of what's going on around her in the den of sex. The music is loud, and she's trying not to pay attention to things, thank you very much. But she's caught on to the fact that there was a fight going on that she couldn't hear. Someone fell down thanks to their ridiculous shoes. Marie and Flor, the leaders of her gang, have started waving bills at gyrating naked women, trying desperately to be the kind of cool girls who go to strip clubs. The very kind of girl Verna is not.

It's the last spectacle (that which her friends are making) which has her looking around the room at last, not at the stage, but anywhere else. Anywhere, apparently, also includes directly into the eyes of her boss, the good Doctor Andr ssy.

You know this feeling. The way the hair stands up on her arms, ice fills her veins, the color drains from her face. It's what embarrassment does when the meter goes from full to nuclear in a split second.

Her eyes go saucer-wide, and her mouth gapes in uncontrolled horror. Flor hands her a dollar bill, which she accepts without even thinking about the implication. "Thank you..." she mutters, well under the music volume. Even Flor probably can't hear her.

Finch
Finch had given the person working the bar a fifty dollar bill and told them to open him a tab. Now, though, he throws a sidelong glance at Stephen who didn't find his humour humorous and then casts a glance toward the fleeing Jade and the remaining Laurel.

Huh. He thinks. Huh.

The drink is at his lips one last time and then it's left on the bar to sweat alone because his hand has left it. He's there, then he's not. His body weaving in and out of tables and sweaty disgusting cows until he catches sight of the exit and disappears through in Jade's wake.

Laurel Hensley
The bounty hunter sighs a little when Jade says she's going home.  It's equal parts amusement and relief at this girl, clearly out of her element (really, Laurel?  Come on, you're better than this.  No, not really) and she gives a little nod.  "Yeah, that's probably best.  Nice seeing you again.  Say hi to your caracal for me."

She watches Jade teeter her way to the door, smirking a little bit at the strangeness of the situation.  Jade certainly intrigues her, though she can't place a finger on why at this point.  The obvious reasons, of course--the need for a protector and just how she even makes it around in these nights without being accosted--but she doesn't care so much about most girls like that.  Then again, most girls are far less good at weaving webs that effectively scream Help Me, not that Laurel realizes it.  And then once Jade's out the door the woman in the jean jacket turns back to the bar, moves to order another screwdriver.

She glances down the bar the few feet to Stephen and Finch, eavesdropping idly even after Finch has left.  She's keeping an eye on Stephen now.  He got her goat, and that puts him on a list in her mind.  She sits back down and glances about the place, noting Verna and her saucer-wide eyes.  There's a little chuckle, harsh from her smoking habit.

"Man, you're just a hit with all the ladies, aren't you?" she says to Stephen.  She can't help a little goading.

Stephen Andrássy
Well hell. If Laurel is going to stand here and bust his balls for a few more minutes at least it looks like he's here with someone else and not just standing around looking at breasts on his night off. This is America and a man does have the right to look at breasts on his night off so long as both parties are consenting adults and so on and so forth.

But that doesn't make it any less awkward for poor Verna.

The blond man stares straight ahead for another small moment before sucking on an eyetooth and turning towards the woman in the ass-kicking outfit. It's very easy to hate him. He has to realize this. When one wakes up every morning knowing one has to go through life being intelligent and witty on top of being devastatingly good-looking one has to assure oneself that one can deal with the shade others are honor-bound to throw.

"She just keeps talking," he says to the empty space beside him. "I do nothing to her, and here she is, with the talking." The man turns directly towards her again and asks, "What is your name, little gnat?"

Verna Gardner
Verna does snap out of it, enough to realize that she has a bill in her hand, and how did that get there? She looks over to Flor, who is laughing, and slams the bill down on stage without looking.

Sure enough, it is eagerly snapped up by the nearest performer, who tries to lure Verna's gaze in with a bit of directed sensuality. Verna is not having any of that, and the stripper rolls her eyes, verily nonplussed.

"That's my boss! My boss knows I'm here," she whines to her assembly.

"So? He's here too," says her friend Serena, not taking any of this very seriously at all.

But this is life and death, don't they understand!?

She puts her head down on the table and bashes it down a couple times in sheer this-is-not-happening.

Laurel Hensley
She's grinning a little as Stephen bemoans being harrassed.  She can't help it; giving guys she considers to be assholes is a pasttime of hers, and what started off as her being maneuvered into protectiveness was amplified with his attitude.  She gets her drink with a grateful nod and looks over to meet the man's gaze, unconcerned.

"It's a free country, pal.  I can say what I want, or that's what I hear."  She gives a shrug and asks for her name.  "Who wants to know?  I'm sorry if you gave it before, I was a little busy caring about anything else.  But now I'm curious."

She shoots a look across to the girl who was staring at Stephen, and sees that she's smacking her head on the table.  "Who's that, an ex?  She doesn't seem too pleased to have ended up in the same place as you."

Stephen Andrássy
When he looks over to see what in the hell Laurel is talking about he sees Verna is banging her forehead against the table. Interesting. He'll have to ask Ren  if that's typical twenty-something American behavior. You're a doctor, Ren . You know things about people.

"Ah, that is funny, so!" he says. Sarcasm. "You are very funny. No, she does not seem very pleased." Laurel was unconcerned when she met his gaze earlier. When she turns back to him he's looking her right in the face. "I think you could cheer her up, though, eh? Why don't you go hug her?"

[this is going to be the worst use of Dominate 1 ever]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (5, 5, 5, 6, 8, 8) ( success x 4 ) [WP]

Verna Gardner
Verna, for her part, is simply trying to ignore the situation. Trying and failing, but trying nonetheless. She lifts her head, and her friends aren't paying much attention anymore either. No, they are laughing in their tipsiness. Look, there's Flor and Marie lining up to take a picture of themselves and about to get kicked out of the place by the look the bouncer just gave them.

Verna grabs at Marie's hand, "Put down the phone, for Pete's sake. Can't you read the signs?"

This is less being a designated driver, and more being a babysitter. While her boss watches. No, don't think about that, Verna.

Laurel Hensley
She snorts a little bit at first when he's saying Why don't you.  It's the kind of thing that says Yeah, because that's the last thing I'd ever do.  And it really is; Jade may be working her charms on the bounty hunter but she's not the kind to randomly befriend people who she doesn't feel some sort of kinship to.  There is no reason, at this point, that she'd do anything for Verna.

And then, before she even realizes it she's standing up, walking over with intent to hug the woman.  She doesn't even realize that it's out of character while she's doing it; she just walks across the bar and leans down to grab Verna's arm and pull her up into a full-bodied hug.

And she's NOT.  LETTING.  GO OF IT.

Stephen Andrássy
But her boss isn't watching anymore. When the women look back after the moment's over they'll see two untouched condensation-slicked glasses where the faux-Frenchman and the Hungarian were stood a moment earlier. No sign of them besides the things they left behind. The lingering sense of discomfort born of knowing he was there before and now he could be anywhere.

Laurel never got his name.

Verna Gardner
She feels a hand grabbing her, and imagines at first it must be some bouncer off to haul her and her friends away. But no, this is a Laurel, and the strange woman grabs her to pull her into a hug.

What?

For a moment, she's just stunned, and then, she lets out a flustered cry of "What are you doing? Do I know you?"

It's all apparently very funny to the three women she came her with -- to see the fuddy-duddy befuddled so.

She tries to worm her way out of the tight hug without being too violent about it. No pushing or shoving involved. Just wriggling.

Laurel Hensley
There is a moment when she doesn't understand, when Verna starts freaking out, that what she's doing isn't normal.  She has no desire to do it, so why the hell is she?  But she can't stop, not for a while.  A full minute passes before finally she rips her arms free and stumbles back.

She doesn't get it; that much is clear.  She has absolutely no idea why she just did that, other than someone told her to.  Verna might have reason to fear for the moment because she looks like a cornered animal.  There's a wild fear/anger in her eyes at what she doesn't understand.

"What the-" she starts, then falls short.  "Why...how did he..."  She's not even looking at Verna now, because fuck this girl who she was just piloted over to go hug.  It doesn't  Make..  Sense.

And then she turns back and realizes that he's gone.  She looks back at Verna, dazed and intense and angry, and then heads for the door as fast as her feet will carry her.  Here is the last place she wants to be.

Verna Gardner
It takes a full minute for Verna to break free, and after a while even her friends start realizing that something might be amiss. "Look, I... You... Let go of me!" she yells, trying to garner some attention to her plight -- which she has decided involves another woman who is tragically high on PCPor something equally terrible.

The woman stumbles back away from her, starts saying strange words, none of which include 'I'm sorry' or 'I thought you were someone else' or anything that explains what just happened, and then bolts for the door.

Verna turns to her companions, who at least are paying attention. She also brushes down her dress in the attempt to regain some dignity. "We're going. Now. If you don't want to leave, you can walk."