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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"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.

Teja finds a table that is only half occupied, with two young women that are looking at a series of colourful pictures on a small silvery device, and giggling. He announces his intention of sharing their table, as one would in a tavern on the wayside, back in his world, and looks at Yrael -- to announce there is room for them there.

The young women look up, and giggle some more, while announcing that sure, they don't mind them sitting there at all.

Yrael sees his look and nods, heading to the window to make their order.

He returns shortly, greeting the young women with a smile and a nod.

"They say our order will be out shortly," he says as he sits.

"Good," Teja says. The women at their table giggle about something they seem to find outrageous, but Teja tries to ignore them.

"One just has to remember not to try and breathe while eating beignets," he says, grinning rather cryptically.

"I am a dead man," Teja says, "but still, it seems that I do need to breathe. Why should I not do it when eating those?"

"You'll see," he says, still grinning.

Soon enough, their order comes. Two cups of strong coffee with cream (there's a container of sugar on the table, in case one wants it), and a plate stacked with golden puffy pastries mounded with a fine powdered sugar, light enough that breathing near them induces a cloud of white dust.

"Why would one put loose flour..." Teja begins, picking up his.

Oh!

"'S not flour. It's sugar," Yrael chuckles at the resulting sugar cloud.

And its lovely dusting of the Goth's black hair and attire.

When he picks up his, he taps it against the plate to get most of the excess off.