mogget_cat | Terrible Triad Touring Agency: New Orleans

Yrael grins as she steps out from the bar and into the deserted alleyway and the New Orleans early evening. She glances over her shoulder to see Liz and Nikola follow her through the door, which closes behind them.

"We've got a while before I have to be there for my gig," she grins at them, "so I thought I'd show you around the French Quarter."

Since, and she may be ever so slightly sheepish about this, she hasn't gotten around to doing so before.

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Yrael stands, grinning as she licks her fingers clean of lingering powdered sugar.

"It's just a short way from here."

She'll lead the way.

Nikola stands as well and offers his arms again.

That never gets old.

No, it really doesn't.

Liz slips an arm through one of his with a smile. She can't wait to see Yrael perform in the club.

Yrael takes Nikola's other arm, grinning at the two of them. She relishes the prospect of getting to show off, always, but this is particularly nice. She has sung for her friends, but only ever gets to let loose with her voice when she's in New Orleans, though even then she has to be careful. The anti-mutant sentiment is pretty strong in this world, and her appearance already is a stroke against her. Still, it is more than what she feels comfortable doing in Milliways.

She laughs as they draw near the club, seeing the crowded line outside of Ampersand. "No use trying to get through that mob. Come on, I'll get us in the back way."

"So nice to have connections," Nikola says with a grin as they head around the back.

Liz's eyes go to eye the crowed line as they pass it with a smile, "Isn't though. And such lovely connections at that."

"My friends are not part of the mob," she says, her tone definite, more serious than her momentary easy smirk before she turns to the rear door guard. He recognizes her, of course, and hearing that these are her friends, who have reserved seats, he lets them in.

As they walk through the back halls, they can hear the sounds of a band warming up, testing the acoustics and tuning what might need to be tuned.

Through another door, and they're in one of the more indistinct shadowy corners of the main room, partially hidden by a black curtain. To their left is the stage, with backup musicians continuing to make sure all the instruments (and there are quite a few) are ready. More chairs and tall, two- or three-person tables have been brought in during their absence, to make it so more people can sit and listen. All of the dance floor nearest the stage has been taken up. On the upper level on the far side of the bar, though, the second, slightly smaller dance floor has been left open.

For those few caught by the music and voice who might muster the concentration enough to dance.

"Not a bad setup," Nikola says, looking around the club.

Liz's eyes trail over everything, taking it in. She can't help it, she's never been backstage of a concert before and sometimes that cat attention span perks up.

"Looks like a nice set up."

"Glad you both like it," Yrael says, grinning. Ampersand is just a place to perform, for her, but like anything of quality one uses for a length of time, she has grown slightly fond of it.

The manager and customers have both gotten used to their slightly odd, semi-regular performer who doesn't sing music that is quite a home in a techno-club setting. But the management agrees: they have her under contract, and she brings in the people. They'll make use of her.

And she'll make use of them and their patrons. It's just good business.

"You two remember which table you picked out?"

Nikola looks amused by the question. "I think I can find it again."

The question certainly brings a smirk to Liz's face. "Shouldn't be too hard between the two of us, to figure out."

"Well you two should go find it again," Yrael grins, leaning up to kiss them both on the cheek. "Get some drinks, if you want. Just tell the bartender you're my friends. I need to go get ready."

"Free drinks too?" Nikola teases. "It really does pay to have connections."

Liz chuckles softly, "Come on you." There's an ever gentle tug to Nikola's arm. "Drinks and our seats," she pauses to look at Nikola from under lashes, "and maybe some dancing?"

Least she's asking this time instead of just tugging him into it?

"You two are my guests and my friends," Yrael says after them, smirking. "I'm allowed to spoil you."

Then she heads over to the band, to let them know she's here, and then to the back, to get changed.

Nikola smiles after Yrael as she goes and then escorts Liz to the bar.

"Possibly dancing," he answers her. "Maybe."

There's a bright smile, even though it's a maybe. There's also a lean in to kiss his cheek when they get to the bar. "I can take a maybe," she says cheerfully, before ordering an amaretto sour.

The band continues to warm up, the wide and unusual array of instruments being tuned very precisely.

They've worked with Bianca before.

The place is getting full, but the bartender noticed them coming in with Bianca and makes sure to give them his full attention as they order.

Nikola orders himself the most expensive red wine they have, and once they're served, he turns to Liz with a smile, raising his glass.

"To...Bianca?"

Liz can't help but grin as she raises her glass and lets it tink lightly against Nikola's.

"To Bianca."

The band eventually quietens, letting the recorded music (techno with a driving beat, some of the club's usual fare) play as people mill about, get drinks and find their seats.

Bianca comes out from the back halls to meet with the band. She's wearing a slinky, shimmery dress of iridescent mother-of-pearl, with a pair of strappy, opalescent high-heels. Her white hair is up, piled artfully with silver clips. It's not just the shoes, which would normally require hours of bribing to get Yrael to wear. Bianca the musician moves differently than Yrael does, even when wearing the same form. She's more business-like to her band and the stage manager who comes to talk with her regarding the lighting.

Less coy.

For now.

Nikola takes a sip of his wine once they've toasted, and settles back in his seat next to Liz to enjoy the show. He's interested in the differences he can see between Bianca and Yrael, and he watches the set up curiously.

Liz settles in, eyes watching Bianca. She can see the difference between both Yrael and Bianca already, but she can also see the differences between the woman that went shopping with them verses the woman on stage. Body language is something she reads naturally because of her feline side.

She's ever so curious now.

Bianca nods, pointing out to the manager a light that need to be moved, or little, last minute tweaks of the stage layout to the band, for acoustics' sake. Everything is finally to her approval.

She dismisses the stage manager, and looks out at the crowd: a performer sizing up her audience, watching with more than just her eyes and listening with more than just her ears. Deciding on the line-up of songs, based on the audience. The couples at the tables, the loud groups of friends in the booths, the people at the bar and standing along the back walls. The young, the middle-aged, the middle-aged-and-hiding-it-to-look-young. The humans, the mutants passing as humans, the single were and vampire.

As her gaze passes them, she stops and grins at her friends. That toothy, almost feral grin, out of nowhere, is pure Yrael. But it only there a moment, before Bianca comes down again like a mask. Just long enough for her to see them and smile, before resuming the role and turning back to her band to let them know the final order for the night.