mogget_cat | New Orleans w/Jason

From the bar, the two of them step out into the humid, New Orleans night. The clouds cover the stars and moon, leaving it up to the streetlamps to cast light upon the people who are out and about this evening.

There's the scent of rain in the air. Rain, and the scents of people, cheap hot dogs, alcohol, and the underlying scent of the city, always there.

"It's not far. Just a few blocks over," Yrael says as she looks out at Bourbon St.

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"Genevieve? That's pretty. This is one of those times I'd love to fling some French at you, but it always just goes in one ear and out the other."

Granted, he's usually hearing the more genteel French right before being rolled, and he couldn't remember it if he wanted to.

"Where'd you come up with Wik?"

She laughs. "I don't even know any French, not real French, so I'm afraid it'd be lost on me, hon." Chuckling, she sips her rum'n'coke. "It was a joke at work, since I work in reference at the city library. A friend of mine said I knew where to find information on anything."

The name got extrapolated from there, then shortened.

Jason chuckles. "Clever. It's a catchy name, too: good for stage."

He eyes her appreciatively. "You know? I wouldn't have pegged you for working in the library, but it kinda makes me happy to know you do. Makes reading look good."

His smile broadens. "You could do lectures at the local middle schools, and you'd have teen boys hitting the library in droves."

"I was aiming for upper management, but I gotta work my way up before I can take on the library as a whole," she smirks at the flattery.

"Hmmmm, we do need to get our numbers up. Even if the boys wouldn't be there to actually use the library, if they walk in the door, they count. The question would be if I could stand dealing with the middle school boys being there."

Wik pauses, then shifts to lean her elbow on the bar. Despite herself, Jason is offering interesting conversation. "What about you? What do you do when not listening to unfamous people wanting to be famous?"

Jason considers this. "They are pretty rowdy. Maybe workshops? Word gets out that a hot library chick is teaching a workshop, and maybe it'll keep them busy. Play your cards right, they might even learn something. Just make sure it's something they can relate to: so show how it can relate to getting a girl to go home with them."

He chuckles and drops his head slightly. "Me? Well..." I'm like the PA for the master vampire of my city who munches on me at least every other day, I hang out with the leader of my local werewolf pack to which I am a member, and sometimes offer myself up for sex with our local necromancer who has become a real life succubus.

He grins. "I strip."

One of Wik's two black, arched eyebrows becomes even more arched.

"Really?"

She looks him over.

"You any good? Most people wouldn't come right out and admit that."

He chuckles. "I like to think I am. I'm one of the headliners at any rate. So...yeah, I'm pretty good."

He cocks an eyebrow at her, giving her a roguish look. "Why lie? You never know when someone's going to call you out on it."

"Explains the attitude, at least," she chuckles lowly into her rum'n'coke. "Where're you working? Anyplace local?"

"Use what you've got, right?"

He shakes his head, scooting a little closer to converse without shouting.

"Nah, I'm from St. Louis. I'm here visiting an old friend." His grin is mischievous. "Why, you want to catch the show?"

"Possibly," she smirks at him. "It'd at least give me the opportunity to see if you've got anything to back up that attitude of yours."

In the background, the mediocre band draws its enthusiastically mediocre song to a close, to mediocre applause.

He looks more than a little pleased with himself as he leans in to smirk. "Why wait so long? I could show you right now."

The laughter in his eyes means that he might be teasing. Then again, he might not...

"Ohhh," she smirks. "So you're performing tonight, too."

She meets his teasing with her own.

It just so happens that after Outrageous Flavor has cleared the stage, Bianca Silvestri is called up. From the applause and few cheers as the pale girl from the seat behind Jason takes the stage, her name is recognized.

"I got talked into it, but unfortunately I'm not going to be dancing. So I have to try to impress you before they get me up there."

He's about to make another suggestion when Bianca is called up. He smirks over his shoulder, turning so that he's able to see Bianca onstage, but still remain close enough to Wik to converse. And to just be close.

"You better work fast," Wik grins. "You might be called at any moment."

Up on stage, Bianca sits at the piano. After a moment of pause, her head tilted as if listening for something to inspire her, she begins to play.

Whoever said that rock piano was impossible never met a Bright Shiner on a mission. The beat is fast, the tempo driven on by the fierce, rhythmic chords of the keyboard. It's a challenge, picking up the spirits of all of the bar patrons who hear her, urging them on, especially when she begins to sing. Her voice carries the challenge, the quick, forceful chords of the piano carry the urgency of it.

"Gotta fight- gotta strike-
'cause there's no turning away
From what you don't want to know.
Gotta see- gotta be-
If they're all going astray,
Don't let them take you in tow.

You're a one-man shift in the weather...
You're the woman who just won't sell...
Climbing up, I'm ringing the belllllllll-

Ooh-Ooh-Ooh you're gonna make your-
mark this time...
Ooh-Ooh-Ooh you gotta set your-
hope on fire..."

Jason can feel the influence of the Bright Shiner as soon as she begins her song, and he smiles to himself: she does have his back.

Well used to having his mind manipulated, he opens himself fully to the power in Bianca's song. It tears through his cool, playboy demeanor, leaving something more akin to a primal hunter in its place. He suddenly finds himself much closer to Wik than he remembers being, but he notes with with satisfaction her flushed cheeks and pounding heart.

Well done, Yri...

He leans close enough that his mouth is hovering behind her ear, and his breath is hot against it as he whispers, "Just how fast do you want me to be?"

She can feel his breath, hot on her ear and neck. Her calm is enough to let her drain the rest of her rum'n'coke, her hand only slightly unsteady. "Not so quick as to fail to make an impression, I'd hope," she murmurs, her eyes flickering between her glass Jason's hand resting on the bar, hesitating at making eye-contact, should that prove too much.

In the background, the music continues, the audience rapt. Some soloists with their attention fixed on the musician on stage, others becoming more and more focused on their conversation partners.

"Gotta leave- gotta bleed-
You've gotta stop lying still
'cause this is no kind of life.
You don't need guarantees,
You just want something to build
Before you turn to the knife.

When the streets are aflood like a fever,
It's a holiday of the new.
We're coming closer now to the truuuuuth...

Ooh-Ooh-Ooh you're gonna make your-
mark this time...
Ooh-Ooh-Ooh you gotta set your-
hope on fire..."

He'll gladly make the move. His hand slides over to press against hers, a single finger suggestively caressing over the back of her hand; over her knuckles and along her wrist.

"I'm sure I can make a good impression."

He raises his eyebrows questioningly, a sly smile on his face as he nods his head back toward a dark hallway in the bar where the bathrooms are.

Wik lifts her eyes to his, glancing at him sideways. A smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth as she slightly raises her eyebrows in challenge.

"You're on."

And maybe her hand is turning to grasp at his as she gets to her feet.

"Gotta move- gotta choose-
You've got a difference to make.
Don't watch it happen again.
Gotta change- rearrange-
Something's bending to break,
It's just a matter of whennnnnn...

Ooh-Ooh-Ooh you gotta make your-
mark this time...
Ooh-Ooh-Ooh you gotta set your-
hope on fire...

Ooh-Ooh-Ooh you're gonna make your-
mark this time...
Ooh-Ooh-Ooh you're gonna set your-
hope on fire...

Ooooooooooh, you're gonna set your-
hope on fire...

Set your-
hope-
on-
fire..."

What's he got to lose?

He moves to follow close behind Wik, responding with a smug grin to the dirty looks being hurled at him from the other guys. Well, the ones who aren't entranced by Bianca's music, and there aren't many that aren't.

The bathroom is one of those small, one-at-a-time deals, which is perfect for Jason. The door is barely closed before he has Wik against it.

He'll apologise to B later for missing the rest of her set.

They don't have long to glare at the retreating pair, because soon after, the song comes to a close, and there is cheering and applause going on.

For a while.

When the crowd comes to its senses again, as Bianca is making a similar walk from the stage to the bar as Wik had earlier, there's a space of general conversation as the next little garage band sets up.

With her guy friend otherwise occupied, Bianca, it seems, is set for drinks for the rest of the evening. Those that were glaring before are looking hopeful and attentive now as Bianca smiles and chats with them; the knowledge that one guy has already gotten lucky with one of the hot-yet-hard-to-get performers this evening is just adding further wood on the fire.

Just wait until they see who Bianca leaves the club with.

Poor Bianca has most of the garage band to suffer through before Jason and Wik emerge from the bathroom, much to the protest of several people who'd been waiting to use it.

Jason's cocky smile speaks volumes as they approach the bar. He asks Wik, "Funny to ask after the fact, but can I buy you a drink?"

Bianca's not really paying attention to the garage band's song, anyway. She's discussing politics with a small handful of guys at a nearby table. One of which is trying to talk her into admitting she's a Democrat, two of which are trying to talk her into admitting she's a Republican, and one who's secretly harboring a suspicion that she's an anarchist.

She's talking circles around them.

Wik chuckles. "Sure. Sazerac for me."

Jason catches snippets of Bianca's conversation and tries not to laugh as he orders the drinks.

"I'd order you a big bloody steak as well, but I don't think this is that kind of place." He winks at her. "Hey, excuse me just one second..."

He leans over into the group conversing with Bianca. "Try asking her about her stance on the Charter," he suggests with an evil grin, then turns away again.

"We could find that kind of place," Wik suggests as he comes back, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. "Who was that?"

Behind them, the conversation is confused for a moment, before Bianca offers slight (and filtered) explanation.

Then the conversation inevitably shifts towards a discussion of religion. Two of the group are trying to get Bianca to admit she's actually a Christian, one is verbosely convinced she some godless Atheist, and one is privately wondering about her personal beliefs on Shinto.

He nods to the pack. "You mind?"

Letting her light the cigarette for him, he explains. "Old friend. The one I'm visiting. Her name's Bianca." He breathes the smoke in gratefully. "I'd be up for some food later on if you are. Any of the places around here open late?"