T - Bee, Xenon - Complete

[Nathalia]

A cold wind whistles through the lonely buildings and closing shoppes as dusk turns slowly to night.
Everything is closing down and many shoppe owners and patrons are heading to the same places; the pubs and bars that litter the streets of the edges of the Capital, and the more rowdy ones in the outer Bazaar.
The air seems thick with an odd spice, everyone seems far more friendly and open than they might otherwise have been...or at the very least, just more “open”...
The pubs and bars are filled with myriads of people and all of them are aiming to get as roaring drunk as they can. Songs drift out of open doors, and one or two people are already staggering away from the back alleys.
One man, already roving from bar to bar, is an intrepid sort. Every barman seems to know his name, or at least his “handle”, and his dapper and roguish air lend to what could almost be interpreted as charm...
(Your goal is to find Apocalypse among the masses and hop at least four other bars with him, convincing whoever is least likely to want to do so, to meander to the bars in the Outer Bazaar.)

[carcinoGeneticist]

The King was in high spirits. He had a day off - finally! - and it wasn't even one he'd taken on his own accord. No, this was Court-sanctioned. What better way was there to spend such a day than at the bars? Talk, drink, maybe a quick no-name fuck -- nothing could possibly make him feel better in that moment. It didn't matter that strangeness had descended over the rest of the damn world, everything felt perfect where he was. No Lowland scum, and more than that: people all over seemed to be feeling just as good as he was. The atmosphere was even more intoxicating than the alcohol.

Currently engaged as he was in a lively conversation with someone who's name he'd forgotten, the King was all smiles and charm, eyes bright in the dim light. He'd been here for a while now, and had a few drinks already, but he was nowhere near the threshold of his ability's protection. He laughed when his companion said something particularly outlandish, giving him a flippant gesture that indicated exactly how he felt about that, then excused himself to get another drink.

Vodka was the poison of choice. A splash of fresh orange juice to cut the bite, and the King was set. Slowly, he made his way back to the group that he'd found himself a part of. At some point, he would leave this place behind for a different location. This one was a bit of a sausage fest, and the more he had to drink, the more the nagging of his mind sunk in. Sex would be nice, tonight.

[Bee]

Helena was having an easier time of it than usual, not that she ever had a particularly difficult time of it. It was just that certain people had certain creepiness thresholds that Helena did not recognize and sometimes crossed and then crossed again and then danced upon. And then someone ran away, and she had to start the whole thing all over again. But tonight everyone was in good cheer, receptive to flirting, giving it back. Maybe whatever was in the air was making people lighten up, like some kind of happiness dust.

Or maybe it was some kind of date-rape pollen released into the air by particularly lowlife and/or insane Corvies.

Or maybe it was just one of those rare days.

In any event, Helena found herself relaxed and lightly buzzed, entertaining a small coterie of men, in whom she was slowly losing interest. It's not that they weren't attractive and compelling people--well, most of them--it was just that they failed to be a certain something.

She slipped lazily out of her chair, leaving her empty drink on the table. She told the gentlemen that it had been a pleasure--and it had--but her fortunes lay elsewhere.

In this pub, maybe, overflowing with new and exciting gentlemen.

Or familiar and exciting gentlemen. There was a blond head in a small crowd, face recognizable. She never forgot a face. Or at least, a face worth it to not forget.

She slid over, her feet having apparently made the decision for her. She smiled. "Room for one more?"

[carcinoGeneticist]

The group only got more pleasant as the next drink went down, and Apocalypse was quickly finding that his cheeks hurt from smiling so damn much. Flirtation time would come soon, he was sure. Just not yet. He closed his hands (normal sized, the Capital was delightfully free from the grips of the rose-blossom madness that seemed to plague the Highlands) around his glass, enjoying the cool sensation in the rather stuffy room.

He didn't notice the approach of the Jossigy, he was too busy laughing uproariously at a joke that in hindsight probably wasn't as funny as it had seemed. One of his companions noticed her first, elbowing the King in the side until he paid note. "Damn, hottie at five o'clock,[/b]" he muttered, completely missing the look that passed over Apocalypse's face as the gears clicked into place and he recognized the woman.

He managed to recover by the time the woman spoke, a smile blossoming anew across his features. It was accentuated by the slightest hint of a blush, his buzzed brain carrying his thoughts back to their previous meeting. Those thoughts were pushed to the back of his mind when he couldn't banish them outright. Now just wasn't the time for that - yet - maybe after a few more drinks and a little bit of conversation. Not that there was much of that last time, his brain provided helpfully.

Less helpful was the surge of lust he barely managed to keep at bay.

The albino set his drink down, and the smile blossomed into a full-blown grin. "For you, I think we could manage." So saying, he stood, offering her the space he'd previously occupied in the booth. It was easy enough to pull up a chair for his own ass. "Can I get you a drink?" After all, hadn't she treated him the last time they'd met?

[Bee]

Well, if he hadn't recognized her, he at least looked pleased enough to see her--and perhaps she could find some pleasant way to jog his memory--but maybe she wasn't giving him enough credit, or the right kind. Or maybe she was already a little too tipsy to be making accurate assessments.

For the moment it didn't matter. She got a closer view of him He looked a little different than when she'd seen him last. It might have been the scar on his lip, one she didn't remember. She might ask him about it. It was always fascinating, to find out how people got their scars, how long they'd had them, and for the time being at least, she was much more fascinated by her rediscovered companion than most. And a still relatively quiet but persistent part of her brain wondered if he had gotten any new scars elsewhere, as well.

She slipped into the booth, flashing a grin of greeting at the men that--uh--her old--um--that her once-and-fondly-recalled companion was making conversation with, before fixing her attention back on him.

"I'd love one, thanks," she said, for wasn't more alcohol the right answer to nearly every question? The only real query left was how much she wanted to pace herself. "Bourbon and cherry soda?"

[carcinoGeneticist]

The longer he was around the woman, the more vividly his mind began to play out a series of images with Helena as the star. It was easy to fantasize about a person he'd already seen in a compromising position, and during their last encounter he'd had quite the view.

As much as it pained him to leave her alone with the companions he'd taken before her arrival, it would only be for a moment. The sudden surge of possessiveness was odd, but he didn't consider it too closely. After all, getting laid had always been in the plan, and as fun as a nameless affair was, something involving a Card he'd already encountered wasn't such a bad thing, either. If nothing else, it meant that the flirtation had at least a bit more promise to it. He gave her a small nod and a sly smile, heading for the bar.

When he returned, it was with her requested beverage and a refilled glass of his own choice. He inclined his glass towards her in a toast, one eyebrow raised and a smirk on his face. "So, what brings you to the Capital tonight? It's a rather lovely evening, if I say so myself." Albeit rather strange, but there was no reason to bring something like that up now.

[Bee]

She raised her own glass. Her smile widened into something impish. This might, she thought, have been the best call she'd made all night. He was certainly in possession of the Something that her other friends had lacked--though what the something was, she still couldn't say for sure. The cunning charm, maybe. And, as she recalled, the cunning everything else. Her face went a little warm, her stomach a little aflutter.

The best call of the night, indeed. She downed some of her drink, the burn pleasant and warming. She was glad she hadn't opted for whiskey. Somehow all the other people at the table had mysteriously gone away--not physically, of course, but in every other sense that mattered. She suspected she should feel a little bit bad about that--she usually enjoyed a harem--but she also suspected that she didn't really care.

"Me? Well, it is a lovely night--and it's always a shame to waste them." It was of course a shame to waste even dour nights, but this was--what? Double shame? Shame squared. Exponential shame. She shouldn't think math with booze. "I'd just thought I'd hit the town and see if I could find anything interesting." The smile curved into something dangerously close to a smirk. "And lo! I think I succeeded."

[Nathalia]

((A tall, Bipedal Canine/Bird, his Realms a mix of Josiggy and Torquehelm, catches sight of the pair at the bar.
His grin becomes cocky and overconfident as he spots the rank and Suit on the Human's chest...same as his own.
He's a rather vicious array of spells, especially his King's ability, and wonders if he might not be able to away this charming young lady with the eyes to his own table.

((Your goal above is still in place, but now added is this.
Decide for yourselves what arsenal this man might have and his further personality. Apocalypse may wish to combat him, or perhaps they will simply find a way to chatter themselves out of it...or might they take him along for the ride?
Entirely up to you; his name is Randolf Touges, and he likes the look of Ms. Helena....and he's not afraid to fight for her...))


~Nathalia

[carcinoGeneticist]

Their glasses clicked together softly. Any noise from it was lost in the overall din of the bar, but even in the dim light Apocalypse's rakish grin was not. The night, in his mind, had taken an abrupt swing into the realm of "much more interesting" with Helena's presence. Even if he couldn't remember her name. Had he even gotten it, last time they'd met?

He was beginning to think that perhaps they hadn't. There had been more important things on their proverbial plate.

"It thrills me to hear you say that." He replied easily, settling back into his seat as casually as he could manage. "Both that you think I'm something worth calling interesting - and that I could potentially keep you from wasting a night such as this one." Now... how to save face. He didn't want to outright tell her that he'd forgotten her name, especially not when he was becoming more and more certain that he'd never known it. He laughed, softly. "Ah, you'll have to excuse me, but I do believe I neglected to introduce myself to you. Apocalypse."

He extended a hand to the woman with another pleasant smile. This much he was sure of - he hadn't given her his name. As he reached out, however, he became aware of something brewing across the room from him. There was a King of Hearts watching them, Helena with an odd possessiveness, the Bog with challenge. It would certainly be interesting to see how this developed.

[Bee]

Oh good. He had offered his name before Helena had been forced to develop some subtle means of pulling it out of him. Being as her current state was entirely unsuited to subtlety, that endeavor could have gone poorly. And she was beginning to stake quite a lot on this night going smoothly.

"Don't worry about it," she said, with a grin. "I think I can find it in my heart to forgive you just this once."

They had both been distracted. If names had been forgotten--or never spoken--at least the both of them had done it. Embarrassment for two just became an inside joke. And in this case, a fond joke, at that. "Helena," she continued, out of a built-in politeness reflex that often required her to offer her own name in exchange for someone else's. She offered her own hand to meet his, and instinctively followed his gaze when it shifted to meet--some boisterous-looking fellow eying them both very oddly. The ends of her hair curled around in puzzlement.

Ah. She knew that look. But she had already unburdened herself of a harem. She shifted her gaze back to Apocalypse, grin quirking into amusement.