mogget_cat | OOM: Open-Mic 2

Yrael and Teja step through the door and out into a deserted alleyway in New Orleans. It's evening, here, around eight o'clock with the sun just having fully set. The people in the street before them haven't noticed them yet.

"All right... to find a clothing shop."

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Yrael comes out wearing the dark red sleeveless shirt, which only accentuates both his paleness and his thinness. He hardly looks strong.

But, as Teja knows, Yrael's appearances are deceiving.

He kind of likes it that way.

He leans against the wall outside the changing rooms, turning his head a little to call in to Teja, "So, is black really your color?"

...He's half tempted to get Teja a yellow shirt. Just because. Or purple. Surely there would be some shirts here the color of his cloak.

Teja comes out, with a dubious look on his face.

"Is it?" he asks. "Is this suitable?"

"It's fine," he grins. "You'll see others there wearing similar, probably."

"And mine?"

"It looks like those on other people," Teja says, "so must be right. I'm not experienced in this, so normalcy is all I can go by."

"It'll do, then," he grins. It's not like he's going to be wearing the shirt much, except for visiting New Orleans.

"I'll see about paying for them after we change back."

"Thank you," Teja says, and retreats to the small room in which he may put on his modern shirt and coat again. Armour, they are not, but the leather gives a nice, heavy feeling of security, and not having one's muscles stared at.

Yrael changes back pretty quickly, heading back out among the clothing racks to look around some more while Teja changes.

Teja follows soon, t-short in hand. "Once we paid, where do we go?" he asks.

"To the bar where the Open Mic night is going to be held," Yrael replies, heading towards the counter. "It's not far."

He checks the clock on the wall.

"We have plenty of time."

"Good," Teja says. "So we can go there slowly, and if we pass by any lupae again that would molest us, we can shake them off first so they would not follow us there."

"If we make it clear that their company is not welcome, nor their services, and they will not be receiving any money for anything they offer, they will probably give up on us in favor of more likely clientele. Just these, yes, thank you," he says as his attention turns to the person behind the cash register.

A couple of twenty-dollar bills and two plastic bags later, they're heading out of the shop to continue their safari in the untamed streets of Nawlins Wild Human Reserve.

Some of the people walking by do have rather colorful plumage. Some just have plumage. And some must be rather cold to have so little on. Most, though, are pretty normal. Jeans and teeshirts, some men in suits of various styles, some in button-down shirts like Yrael tends to wear, some women in jeans and blouses, some in dresses, some in skirts, a few in leather. A very few with feathers.

Some men with feathers, too.

Teja observes with fascination - a greater variety than Rome even held, in his time!

"I would rather wear leather than feathers," he remarks, when an especially colourful specimen has passed.

"As would I," he grins. "What would I be, then, a cat in food's clothing?"

Mmmmmm, songbirds.

"Also, I would assume that those feathers are meant to look -- enticing?" Teja says.

He nods. "Exotic and enticing, also sensual. Brushing up against someone, one does not really expect to feel feathers."

"And one would assume they tickle?" Teja says, walking along.

"Yes, they do tickle."

"...which is especially annoying if one is trying to have his dessert."

Literal dessert, not figurative.

"Where do we go now?" Teja says.

Feathers and desserts - huh!

Songbirds are divinely yummy.

"Three blocks back this way, then a two to the left."

"When does the concert start?" Teja asks. He remembers it was still some time, when they arrived -- and they had not been here all that long!

"At ten-thirty," he replies. "So we have another hour and a half before we need to be there. The man there said the performers should be there half an hour before it starts."

There are lovely smells in the air. Hot coffee and cream, fresh baked bread and sugar.

"What is this smell?" Teja asks. "Do they sell tea and coffee, nearby?"

Yrael might as well be purring, from the look on his face. "That's Cafe du Monde. Best coffee and beignets on this side of the ocean."

He nods as the restaurant comes into view, brightly lit and still bustling in the evening hours.

"Beignets were not invented in my time," Teja says, "but if you say they are good, I will try them!"

"Oh, you must. They are divine," he says, heading towards the restaurant. They pass a saxophone player on the corner, wailing out jazz tunes of love and sorrow with an open case in front of him, where a few copper and silver-ish coins can be seen.

The restaurant's seating is all outdoors, technically, though covered with a sturdy roof. One goes to the window to order, but must hope to find a table amid all the hustle and bustle of other people, first.