Blowing off the steam (open)

What the hell. Seriously. What. The. Hell. How did he get roped into this?

Well he knew how, Tom had talked him into it. They'd played together off and on at various gigs for a few years now and Ambrose liked the guy. He tended to be OK company so when Tom had suggested they go for a beer, he'd agreed. Who knew the crazy bastard was a closet vampire freak.

Ambrose had tried to talk the drummer out of it, standing staunchly by the idea that vampires weren't real and just a Hollywood money grab and that they were as likely to find one at this House of Pain as they were at any other Goth club. But Tom had insisted.

It was as they climbed up through the sewers, with no small amount of profanity on Ambrose's part, he realized why it was he almost never came here. It wasn't exactly handicap accessible. He was going to kill Tom.

It was disturbing, they'd finally gotten up to the club Tom had bought him a beer and almost immediately took off for the dance floor, like a kid in a candy store. Dim wit. Looking for vampires. Ambrose rolled his eyes but he didn't leave, he just stood at the bar, looking out of place in his usual jeans and button down shirt, half keeping an eye on Tom making sure he didn't get his throat ripped out. Probably a good thing the guy had no idea what Ambrose was, he'd never get any peace.

Now if only the beer didn't taste watered down.

Sorcha decided that she was obviously dressed for the wrong place. A new acquaintance at Liefde had told her about the vampire club. She probably should have known then that there was a dress requirement of black, maybe red if you were feeling rebellious.

Marcus followed along beside her as she wove her way towards the bar, openly gawking from time to time. "Is that legal?"

She turned to see what the Roman was pointing to. Ah, hmm, that's a good question. Was wearing latex body paint and not much more grounds for being hauled to jail for public indecency? "She's got the most important bits covered so I suppose its a fine line. I hope for her sake that its sweat proof."

"I hope for my sake that its not." He waggled his eyebrows at her and moved closer to the oblivious fashion risk taker.

Sorcha was wearing a beige macrame top and a pair of tailored white pants. She probably couldn't have chosen a bigger 'I don't belong' statement without possibly wearing plaid and a cowboy hat. Spying someone equally out of place at the bar, she chose a seat next to the man, giving him a small smile as she sat down on the stool.

Sorcha picked up a napkin and wrote on it. Waving her hand eventually garnered her the attention of the bartender. Sliding the napkin to the woman, she placed her order. The bartender didn't even pause to wonder why someone in the noisy bar would choose to write their order down as opposed to shouting it.

The first double shot of whiskey was slid over to her and after the first appreciative swallow, she knocked the rest back. She'd nurse the second one a bit longer. It just looked like it was going to be one of those nights.

((Top))

Six songs on the dance floor had Kat slightly panting and sweat beading on her skin. She felt so much better, and now she needed a drink.

She made her way through the maze of humanity, letting the hands that chose to touch her slide along her body. She was feeling sensual and saw no need to claim her space at the moment. At the bar were two people that clearly did not know the dress code, and were surprisingly unmolested.

Ooooh we should change that! "Haven't you had enough and what part of shut up are you not getting tonight, seriously Maggie I've had enough for a while."

Damn Kitty Kat if I didn't know better I'd say you were PMS-ing, but that would mean you were human, and then I wouldn't be here and then where would we be?

"Oh I don't know, someplace quiet?" Kat was graced with another raspberry and noted that Michael had been awfully quiet and mentally thanked him. She received a sleepy grunt for her efforts, which brought a smile to her face. That smile was still there when she found a place at the bar next to the grumpy looking guy.

The bartender took her order, and she turned around to put her elbows on the bar and gave the guy a once over, before leaning close to speak, yelling above the music was so not her idea of fun.

"There are better places to get a beer after work, ones that won't scare pretty ladies." She gave a chin nod at the young woman next to him, it was her assumption that two such misfits were together, but if she was wrong, meh no biggie.

For the most part Ambrose was aware of his surrounding, -all- the freaks and weirdoes that were parading around and slithering on the dance floor. He came to a few conclusions. He wouldn't want her to wear it every day but it might be interesting to see Belle in skin tight black leather but over all he was glad she didn't. The music was terrible, and Tom was a massive idiot.

Ambrose was rather disgusted watching the guy plaster himself to a burnet amazon built a bit like a line backer. But hey to each their own.

He was almost relieved to see a red head sit down next to him, she looked normal; at least by comparison. She ordered two doubles and he raised an eyebrow, when she knocked one back with out hesitation he grinned as he went back to watching Tom, but was amused. Yeah she was probably a bit out there too. But it was an out of the box he could understand.

Feeling some one invade his personal space he stood relaxed but mentally prepared himself to throw a punch. Some habits just never died. Hearing her words above the incessant beat he just snorted.

"You don't seem scared. Neither does she."

He nodded to the red head, although he hadn't bothered to clear up whether or not they were together. Hell it might be handy to claim the one normal woman in here as a date just to tactfully get away from another. Belle would probably forgive him.

One of the people from the floor, who had obviously gotten the dress code memo, came and sat down on the other side of the other nonconformist at the bar. She seemed to think they were a couple and hearing the man's response she noted that he didn't sort that particular fact out.

Sorcha raised her eyebrows and smiled at him, before taking another swallow of whiskey.

"Problem with Townsend is that he's always been a grumpy bastard. From the looks of it, tonight's no different." Sorcha turned to notice the ghost sitting at the bar next to her on the other side. He had a large handlebar mustache, dark hair and black suit that looked like it was a few centuries out of date.

"He'd be lyin if he said that the freak show wasn't at least a little bit entertaining." The man took a drink from his glass and looked around the club. Sorcha noticed that he didn't seem to have the use of one of his arms. Was this Virgil Earp? One of the nuns had a certain fascination with the American Wild West and Sorcha had learned probably more than she cared to about the subject.

"Though I got to say, that's a lawless bunch of heathens if ever I saw any."

Sorcha smirked to herself and then wrote on the napkin to the man beside her. *Nope, not scared, perplexed and perhaps slightly baffled.* She signed as well just so it was clear the reason she had not spoken her words.

((OOC: Ambrose's friend with permission ))

She gave a small snort. "I'm pretty sure no one's ever confused me for a lady, mister, but you know thanks for the compliment and all that.[/i]

Her eyes flicked to the napkin and that lifted her eyebrows a bit. Not something she ran into on what could be called a regular basis. Of course, maybe she had a cold and didn't want to shout, but then there was the whole rapid hand gestures deally. Kat knew it was sign language, but she wasn't er... fluent.

Kat wasn't exactly known for anything approaching tact, and wasn't in the mood to piss anyone off, so she did the slightly normal thing and said nothing about it.

"If you're sightseeing there are better places for that too, safer ones anyway."

Huh. Ambrose was a little surprised that the red head seemed to be mute. She must be able to hear though, the note indicated as much. Good enough for him. He wouldn't be shouting at her then, at least not any more than this place necessitated that.

"Baffled only covers about half of it ma'am."

It was an unconscious response but something about the red head put her in the polite 'ma'am' category, where as the pushy one... well she hadn't earned a ma'am. He flagged down the bar tendered and ordered two more doubles, inviting himself to join the red head. As an after though he did a third for the other one.

Which he immediately regretted when he implied he couldn't take care of himself. Some days he bristled at an insult like that, tonight though he just got quiet. Relaxing against the bar, he did hate bar stools and ever sat on them if he could help it he downed the last of his beer and made a quick visual check on Tom with a small cocky smile on his face.

"I think I can hold my own. And you can just god damned take my word for that."

The drinks came, and being slightly pissed off Ambrose shot back the one intended for this woman who seemed to think she knew what was best for him. He kept one and made sure the red head got hers. The point was, he didn't like friendly advice like that.

Sorcha chuckled softly and nodded. She wrote on the napkin again and said. *My friend who suggested this place to me forgot to mention the black leather/lace dress code.*

She wondered what reason the woman had for wanting to see them leave. Were they destroying the ambiance with their hued clothing or was it a genuine concern for their safety? Sorcha had heard the place could get rather rough and on top of that there were vampires here, sometimes openly feeding on humans. Its possible the stranger was trying to warn a couple that she thought might be out sight seeing.

"Touchy inn't he? Didn't used to be this way. Less you fought in his saloon and then he'd get his back up." The man looked over at Ambrose and the cane. "Seems to be takin the shootin kind of hard. Personally, I think he lived through it. Hell, he's still alive after all these years. What's so wrong with a piece not makin if for the long haul?" He looked her in the eye and said. "I reckon you know what I mean."

Yes, in her case it was a small piece but an important one. Sorcha occasionally got bent out of shape over it herself so she could understand.

"Well apparently he can hold his own." Sorcha decided she liked him, gruff perhaps but honest.

"Yeah, that he can."

The man handed a drink to her. She smiled and raised it at him in thanks and knocked it back with his first one. Looking over at the other woman, she shrugged and wrote on the napkin. *So long as there is no rule against looking ordinary then I think we'll manage. I'd prefer not to find trouble*

Which didn't mean it didn't occasionally find her. Sorcha wouldn't say she could hold her own. She might, but she'd rather not have to.

Kat blinked at the man. For a nanosecond she thought about holding in the laughter, but she'd censored herself enough for Mr. Toughguy. It was a good honest laugh, nothing snide or derisive about it. When it passed she looked him square in the eyes and smiled.

"Oh, I have no doubt. It's my guess you end up holding your own a lot."

The bar tender had long since delivered her drink and she turned to pick up the glass. She read the girl's note while icey vodka and vermouth slid down her throat.

"Rule? Not a written one, but I can tell you I won't be the last to...invade your personal space over it."

With a grin she drained her martini and set the glass down with a thump. "Well y'all have fun fending off the crazies. I'm gunna go dance."

She flashed them another toothy smile and headed back out to the dance floor. She could have played that differently, but it would have ended in an altercation with Mr. Grumpypants and she really had no desire to fight about friendly advice. Silly man, maybe he was looking for a fight and decided the HoP was the place for it. If that's the case he should have left his girl at home.

Shrugging it off, Kat let herself be pulled into the circle of some random stranger's arms, and lost herself to the music again.

Good, good let's go in for the low brow middle school joke. Boy he hoped this broad wasn't looking for a date because she was sure as hell lacking in charm. He just chuffed and didn't even bother to respond, like he was going to be bought but something that pathetic. Sad thing was she probably thought she was being witty.

That, he had to give her though. They did look out of place and it would attract attention. He could deal with that as it happened though.

He watched her leave and just shook his head.

"One crazy down, only half the rest of this joint to go."

Ambrose muttered half to himself and half to the red head. If Tom would get the hell off the floor the was -so- out of here.

As it was, Ambrose wound up half choking on his drink as Tom now had what looked to be a twenty year old emo guy's hands on his ass. It wasn't that Ambrose was necessarily against that sort of thing, except if involved him in any way shape or form, he just hadn't thought Tom was into it at all. God people were sad when they were desperate.

Sorcha raised her eyebrows at the comment from the other woman. She noticed it didn't get much of a response from the man next to her and Virgil seemed to have nothing to say about it either.

"I seriously doubt it." Rio walked around the man with the cane. "He looks a bit grumpy but he's cute."

She had to agree with her sister, the man was pretty handsome, perhaps that was another reason she didn't clear up any misunderstandings involving their couple status. Sorcha figured she could do a lot worse than even a pretend date with the stranger next to her.

Writing on the napkin again, she slid it over to the man seated beside her. *Somehow I don't think what we're wearing matters in the invading of personal space situation. There seems to be a lot of invading going on no matter what.*

She laughed at his statement and nodded, though the woman seemed sane enough to her and was probably trying to do them a favor. Yes, neither of them had a problem handling themselves but it was just advice and could be taken or left however they liked.

Sorcha followed his gaze to a man out on the dance floor. There was an average looking guy dancing out on the floor with just about anyone he could find. He had a little emo kid with a pair of fake fangs pressed up against him at the moment. Sorcha could see the look in the big brown eyes from here. Part interested and part terrified. He was trying to be encouraging while not seeming to know where to put his hands.

She turned back to the napkin. *Friend of yours?* Sorcha doodled a couple of triangles and a pair of lips and then tapped them and gestured the pen back to herself. Pointing it back at the man seated next to her, she raised her eyebrows in question. The age of the ghost next to her suggested she might be dealing with another of her kind but Sorcha knew better than to trust the appearance of a ghost. It could just be a childhood hero or a strange misinterpretation on her part. Certainly it had happened many times before.

Looking over to read the napkin Ambrose snorted again. No sooner had he read her note than some guy, at least one without eyeliner, was getting a little grabby with him. More to the point his hand was on Ambrose's ass.

Closing his eyes and counting to three he wanted for the guy to back off, it didn't happen. Ambrose set down his drink and picked up his cane, shoving it into the guy's Adam's apple. And pushing him away.

"No. Not gonna happen. Get."

Mr. Grabby seemed to be debating between a fight and just backing off. Ambrose shifted his weight menacingly, careful to shift to his good leg rather than the prosthetic. That seemed to decide the guy who raised his hands and backed up with a half grin half leer.

"If you change your mind..."

And he disappeared into the crowd.

With a sigh he looked back to his red headed 'date' and shook his head, but almost laughed at the implication of the triangles and lips. Ambrose's fangs weren't obvious, but he did grin broadly. Even without fangs his canines were a bit pointier than most humans.

"Yeah... sort of. He's got some weird fixation and -he- drug me."

He made it clear that for all he was a vampire this was not his idea of a good time or a good hunt.

Oh dear... Sorcha suppressed a chuckle when Ambrose gained a friend. The man appeared to be mentally counting to ten. His lack of interest was not being clearly communicated. It was no surprise that a little illustration was necessary.

She did laugh when he explained that, yes, he was a vampire but that he had been brought by his friend. Nodding her understanding, she sent to him. [Do you mind this terribly much? I'm afraid its my best method of communication.]

Standing Sorcha headed towards the dance floor and the man's floundering friend, who was now being gummed by the fake vampire and looking very unsatisfied by the event. [Wants to be bitten? A fair bit desperate from what I can tell.]

Making her way through the crowd, she came up behind the kid groping the man's friend while pretending to 'feed' from him. Smiling, she watched the needy stranger while leaning down to the wannabe. [Off you go, Dracula.] Sorcha gave the kid a tiny bit of unease and the need to be elsewhere. She doubted he even notice that she didn't speak but the other would. His eyes got a little more round. The hopeful look that came next was cute, if a bit pitiful. Circling her arms around him, Sorcha watched him while dancing. Sending to his friend. [How drunk is he? And do you want me to bite him so that he'll let you leave?] It'd serve her purposes for being here as well.

"Works just fine for me ma'am. Might save a few cocktail napkins too."

He didn't much like sending back though. He could, he had but Ambrose never liked it, it felt awkward and unnatural to him. Oh he understood this was a -dead- useful way of communicating, but unless he had to Ambrose almost never reciprocated. Since she could hear, he didn't see the problem.

"Yeah, he wants to be a snack. And damned if I was going to tell him I could take care of that for him."

Tom was still convinced Ambrose was just another human. It was the leg, Ambrose knew it, it was always the leg. Real vampires were dark brooding and mysterious and had all their limbs. Hell Tom probably wouldn't think Ysabel was a vampire either, she was too young and delicate looking.

His 'date' made her way on to the floor and Ambrose almost smiled. It might be good for Tom to get a taste, so to speak, of what he wanted. It would either cure him or hook him. Either way Ambrose knew there'd be no keeping the drummer out of the House of Pain from here out.

Knowing he had no option but to send back Ambrose grimaced slightly and concentrated.

[He's not only had two to get his nerve up and he's burned those off.] Perception was a wonderful gift. [If that works ma'am I'll be grateful. If it doesn't you may have to take him home.]

It wouldn't surprise Ambrose at all if Tom glued himself to this woman once he knew what she was. Of course, he also liked the poetry of a very normal looking woman being the first vampire Tom encountered. It would probably be a hell of a disappointment. He gave one solitary short laugh and grinned to himself.

Sorcha took the guy by the hand while sending to his friend over by the bar. [I'm Sorcha, by the way. Evenhet.] Should probably get on with introductions before munching on the man's friend. She smiled back at puppy eyes and weaved through the crowd to the red door being guarded by two serious looking individuals. [I promise not to hurt him. You can come if you like and wait just outside or inside if you prefer.] She thought that would be a tad bit odd herself but he might be very protective of his friend.


Her friend had mentioned the back rooms. Sorcha had not intended on using them, especially after having seen the place but while plenty of people seem to have no problem making a meal of someone right out on the floor, she preferred a little privacy.


Perhaps she was a closet eater.

((OOC: Sorcha, Ambrose and Tom(aka snack) out ))

Val was feeling very languid, which was all wrong for the place but, well she and Tai had just had a business meeting. Mostly business, maybe a quarter, they had talked business. They'd held a few of their properties for a while now and she was ready to cash in on at least one. So they had discussed that and... other things. She still had a cat that ate the canary smile on her face and sat at the bar like a queen holding court, even though no one was paying attention to her.

Really, she did prefer a smokey pub any day of the week. But the House of Pain was useful, dinner and a business contact, multitasking was the way of the twenty-first century. Val ordered a highball and let one of her new favorite leopard print Jimmy Choos dangle off her toes. Her black leather skirt was slit indecently high up one side, but her top was almost conservative just very tight, it was the hat, a fedora that she was most proud of but it did nothing to hide her red hair so she should be easy to find.

Now... where was that little bastard?

Kat found herself ready for another drink after a particularly vigorous round of dancing to what seemed like an endless song. She worked her way to the bar again and what she saw made her grin. The last time she'd run into Val here at the HoP had been a great deal of fun, and the memory made her grin a little wider.

There was a wannabe at the bar next to Val and a short staring contest with him, won her the space. She guessed evil lurked behind or eyes, or perhaps he just wasn't in the mood to hit a girl. Shrugging she slid up onto the stool, and signaled the bartender. Her martini didn't take long, she tipped well.

Crossing one leather clad knee over the other, she turned to face Val, drink in hand.

"Fancy meeting you here."

Val watched the exchange with amusement. It possibly would have been more fun if the guy had stuck up for himself. She didn't know what side, if any, she would have taken.

She smiled brightly, unabashedly flaunting her fangs. This one she almost kind of liked. But only almost kind of, Val hadn't quite made up her mind about the other woman. She'd beat around the bush too much for Val's liking last time, but the game had been fun.

"Kitty Kat!" Val said with a cheery familiarity, as if they were long time friends, "What brings you out this time of night? Hungry? Bored? Hot to trot or all of the above?"

It wasn't malicious or baiting her, they were just all good options here.

Kat resisted the urge to wrinkle her nose at the nickname. It was not her favorite use of her name, but it was better than some others she'd heard over the years.

"Blowin' off some steam after a back alley encounter with a sociopathic human."

Her accent had begun to loose some of the harsher Russian edges, and she'd picked up a great deal of slang in her American wanderings. She took a sip of the icy vodka, rolling it around in her mouth a moment before swallowing. "Never did understand how the crazies survive, but then natural selection stopped weeding them out about a two hundred years ago."

Another sip, and she lifted her eyebrow. "You?"

Her laugh wasn't forced, it was quite genuine but much lighter and less smokey than the ones she unconsciously favored her business partner with. Val had never asked Tai about Kitty here. They didn't keep tabs on or lay claim to each other like that. The only think Val might get pissed at Tai about is if he took a job without telling her.

"All that fun and you still came in here?"

Val half snorted half chuckled and rolled her eyes. If you got to have a bit of fun outside why would you come in here? But every one had their own way.

She did like Russian accents though. Never sounded quite right from a woman for some reason and not as sexy as Italian but it was her second favorite.

"Oh it is still a jungle out there. The predatory skills to survive are just different these days."

Val let some of her Highball trickle down her throat enjoying the rich flavor of the whiskey and the spicy ginger ale.

"Business... but I think I've been stood up. He sure as shit isn't getting the job if he doesn't show up damned soon."