mogget_cat | New Orleans w/Jason

Jason chuckles warmly in her ear. "All the more reason to take advantage of that fact."

He takes his drink, still smiling. "Unless you'd rather throw me to the wolves." He eyes the women in the crowd, shaking his head. "Would you do that to me? They look hungry..."

"They're always like that," she says, sipping her drink, "when there's a moon over Bourbon Street."

On the other side of the bar, Jack grins to himself... then winces. "You've gone and got that song stuck in my head, Bianca."

There's an unrepentant grin for Jack.

"I don't know, Jason," she says, smirking. "You might like the wolves. I hear they're pretty good in bed, if you can catch one's eye."

He glances upward. "Is there a moon tonight? That's asking for trouble isn't it? That's when the crazies come out."

His next remark is delivered to both Bianca and Jack. "They're always good in bed: the trouble comes with the after-effects."

"Lunatics, all of 'em," Bianca says, leaning comfortably on Jason. "Probably carry diseases. Makes you a wolf like them."

The girl with the clipboard is across the room, trying to get people's attention.

"And that's what you'd leave me with. Typical."

Jason looks over and curses silently, downing his drink.

"Gonna need another one of these, Jack."

He'll love the attention from the crowd...provided it's good attention.

"Like goes with like, dear," she says, giving him a cheeky peck on the cheek before turning to listen to clipboard girl. Jack grins a sympathetic grin and refills Jason's glass.

From what clipboard girl has to say, people will go in random order, their names pulled out of a hat to make things more fair.

Jason rolls his eyes and turns to his fresh drink with a tortured smile to Jack.

"Great. And here I thought I'd have awhile."

The first name drawn is obviously a stage name. 'Wik' ascends the stage with a cigarette in hand, a tall young woman with angular features and long black hair, wearing dark greens and brown, a pair of knee-high leather boots and a lopsided belt of gold discs that jingles as she walks. She has vines tattooed along her jaw and a row of black dots across her forehead, just above her eyebrows.

"This is called 'The Health-Food Diner,'" she states easily into the microphone, standing with her weight all on her left foot, hips tilted.

She looked hot, and Jason turned with an appreciative grin.

He soon turned back with a roll of his eyes at the title of her song. "Jesus Christ...she didn't look like a hippie."

Yrael nudges Jason with an elbow.

It turns out that it's not a song, but a spoken-word piece. 'Wik' puts her cigarette to her lips for a moment before beginning the poem with a brazen tone of voice, a smirking grin pulling at her lips.

"No sprouted wheat and soya shoots
And Brussels in a cake,
Carrot straw and spinach raw,
Today, I need a steak."

And never before had the word 'steak' been spoken with such relish.

An eyebrow shoots up as he glances back over his shoulder in renewed interest.

A steak? Tell me you like it raw and bloody and I'll do you right on that stage...

For the moment, his interest is on that lucky cigarette.

Another pull on the cigarette, followed by a smoke-obscured flash of a grin at the crowd.

"Not thick brown rice and rice pilaw
Or mushrooms creamed on toast,
Turnips mashed and parsnips hashed,
Mmm, I'm dreaming of a roast.

Health-food folks around the world
Are thinned by anxious zeal,"
Disdainful, "They look for help in seafood kelp.
I count on breaded veal."

I've got your roast...

He finds himself grinning at her...and also wanting to suck that smoke out of her mouth.

He watches, spellbound; hoping to God that he's not up next. He'll need a moment.

Her tone is strong, cigarette held away as she speaks derisively into the mic.

"No-smoking signs, raw mustard greens,
Zucchini by the ton,
Uncooked kale and bodies frail
Are sure to make me run!"

Pause.

"...to..."

That is one defiant grin.

"Loins of pork and chicken thighs,
And standing rib, so prime,
Pork chops brown and fresh ground round-
I crave them all the time.

Irish stews and boiled corned beef
and ribeyes by the scores,
or any place that saves a space
For smoking carnivores!"

She laughs, cigarette heading back to her grinning mouth as the audience starts its applause.

He fights back the urge to howl as his hands shoot up in applause. He turns his head to Bianca with a sly grin.

"I take back my previous statement; please throw me to the wolves. That one."

There are plenty of hoots and whistles from others around the bar.

"I haven't met Wik myself, but I'll see what I can do," she smirks, as the next performers are announced and take the stage.

"Wik, huh?"

He snickers and watches her leave the stage as he sips his drink. His eyebrow shoots up to Bianca.

"Think she'd go for a threesome?"

"You'll have to ask her that, yourself," she says with a smirk, sipping her drink. "At least I am not being passed over in favor of some girl you've never met."

Jason snickers. "Slut."

He turns back to scan for Wik. "Hey, we already agreed we'd be willing to have another go at each other. You think I'd pass that up?"

Especially if he can manage just a quickie in the bathroom.

The current performance is meh. Local meh, so it gets some support from the audience, but meh all the same.

"I don't think you're that foolish, no," she grins. "Even if it is you we're talking about."

Talking coolly with people complimenting her performance, Wik is making her way over to the bar. Many of them (most men) want her to stop and chat with them a while, but she handles them easily, not stopping for more than a moment before moving on. She's not rude to any, but none of them can keep her.

He watches her idly, taking careful note of her reaction to the scores of admirers. It won't be easy, but he does enjoy a challenge. He speaks over his shoulder to Bianca, still watching Wik.

"You got my back on this, or are you planning on submarining me?"

"I only submarine you when you ask me to," she says, taking her arm from around Jason; wouldn't want it to look like he was already taken, after all. "I got your back."

And the fact that her hand brushes across the small of his back as she says this is completely... deliberate.

There's a small smirk at that last brush against his back. "Yeah you do. Thanks."

Wik has made it to one of the few openings at the bar, conveniently made by an older man perched next to Jason, giving her the practiced leer of an aged Italian barfly.

He can't help but grin and chuckle into his drink as she expertly -yet politely- dispatches him. Jason can feel her eyes shift to him at the chuckle, and he turns to meet her raised brow. "Nice. Wasn't much of a challenge with a guy like that, but I can't say you aren't skilled."

"Comes with the territory, hon," Wik smirks briefly at Jason before turning to the barman. It's polite thanks for the compliment, but it's the same politeness as she's been giving everyone else. "Rum'n'coke please, Jack. Myers Dark if you got any left."

Jason looks up at Jack and gestures for another drink as well.

"You perform professionally?"

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