It's like paradise, spread out with a butter knife :: [OPEN]

[bonhomme7h.livejournal.com]

Who: EVERYONE
What: Réjean has decided that more people ought to celebrate and help raise a bit of dosh for one of his favourite bars. See: flyer.
Where: The Apache.
When: Misdi night and into the wee hours of the morning.
Warnings: Discussion of Pickman's manky feet.

The Apache is much the same as it always is: dimly lit, with the jukebox playing in the background, and the bartender serving whatever's on tap. Tonight, the bar is packed with people from all across the city, different cantons and cohorts, all out to celebrate surviving the fungal plague. Patrons are encouraged to buy tickets for a door prize with the proceeds going to repair the damage tunnelling ants made to the cellar.

Comments

[bonhomme7h.livejournal.com]

It's a busy night for Réjean. Throughout the evening, he can easily be found sitting up at the bar and chatting with newcomers, wandering through the crowd and checking-up on old friends, visiting the men's room and offering gentle threat to old enemies.

He's dressed poorly, in a Hawaiian shirt covered with blue flames and hula dancers, which makes him easy to spot among the assembled crowd.

[deservesadaisy]

The fashion choices aren't terribly reassuring, but on the other hand, Ivan knows everyone who lives as long as they do is prone to develop their own peculiarities.

Besides. This is mostly a business call, even if he does have a drink in hand. "Mr. Sept-Heure?"

[bonhomme7h.livejournal.com]

"Ouais?" The shirt, hideous as it is, is useful. It means he's easy to spot anywhere in the bar and if he needs to vanish, people will be looking for the shirt in the crowd and not him.

"How can I help you?"

[deservesadaisy]

He'll switch to French, quite fluent with a mild Breton accent. (To be polite, of course, and not at all to show off.)

"You're a hard man to track down. At your convenience, I would have a private word."

[bonhomme7h.livejournal.com]

"Normally, I'm a little easier to find, but when the city is going mad, well..." Réjean shrugs and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. "Let's avoid the crowd in front and go out back for a quiet smoke, hein?"

[deservesadaisy]

"That sounds excellent, thank you." Both for smoking and for privacy. Ivan is in no real rush, but on the other hand, if he can get business squared away, it would be just as well to get it done early.

[bonhomme7h.livejournal.com]

And off they go! It seems Réjean is known by the bartender well enough that no one questions why he and his new friend are leaving through the 'staff only' doors and heading into the narrow and slightly damp back alley way.

"How're you finding Baedal?"

[deservesadaisy]

"Intriguing." He withdraws his cigarettes and offers one to Réjean, which feels only polite. "More idiosyncrasies to get use to than most cities."

[rhinemaid]

Against all good sense and reason (which, admittedly, she does not have in spades), Ilde's become really very fond of Réjean since their slightly unorthodox first encounter. He's entertaining, and that tends to be good enough for her more often than it isn't; she likes his company and finds that he is, in his own way, respectful enough.

If he's not careful, though, she's going to slap a Lisa Frank sticker on his ass. Don't ask where she got it.

[bonhomme7h.livejournal.com]

With such bounty on offer, he'll be as reckless as possible. Truly, if there's anything Réjean needs in his life, it's a neon dolphin stuck to his pants.

"Be gentle with the merchandise?"

[rhinemaid]

This gives her a moment's pause; she leaves her hand where it is and casts her eyes thoughtfully toward the ceiling, as if giving him a thorough evaluation. Regretfully, "Well, it's not going to do me much good else. Buy me a drink, Réjean."

Friendship.

[bonhomme7h.livejournal.com]

"For you? Always," he says with a grin before leaning over to signal something to the bartender that results in a ridiculous drink with an umbrella and a straw shaped like a pair of glasses. Not the Apache's usual fair, to be sure.

[rhinemaid]

"King among men," she declares him, accepting this absurdity with the good grace of someone who would've been disappointed in anything less. Taking vampires seriously is apparently something she's fundamentally unable to do.

[bonhomme7h.livejournal.com]

Réjean is pleased to be anything other than a Prince among Kindred.

Looking almost sincere, he pouts and bats his eyelashes before speaking, "If you keep your hand in my back pocket, will you expect me to carry your books to school?"

[rhinemaid]

"My father warned me about boys like you," is the very prim response to that, which - all things considered - is just a little bit rich. Resting her chin in her hands on the bar, she adds, "Are you going to dance with me?"

[rose-obfuscated.livejournal.com]

"Excuse me, are you the owner?" A very striking red-head poked her head around the bartender.

Brie still couldn't believe she decided to come to this place. It's only been a few days since she's arrived in town at all -- but if she's going to be here, she's going to need to meet people.

No place better to start than the person Anna talked about.

[bonhomme7h.livejournal.com]

"All I own I can fit into a matchbox." Réjean isn't lying. He may use objects, but he doesn't have a strong connection to physical things.

[rose-obfuscated.livejournal.com]

"That's not true. You certainly can't fit into a matchbox, well, alive at least. And I imagine that you aren't owned by someone else?"

Brie cocked up an eyebrow. She could feel his predator's taint. This guy was kindred.

[bonhomme7h.livejournal.com]

Réjean grins and tips his drink towards her. Who's to say that he's not owned by his hungers? By his fears? Maybe even by his obligations or virtues?

"Maybe I need to stop buying such big matches, hein?"

[rose-obfuscated.livejournal.com]

Brie laughed. This guy was actually kinda funny.

"A martini please," she said to the bartender. Brie secretly wondered what new drinks people have come up, but she wasn't going to embarrass herself by asking.

Then, as the drink was slid towards her on the counter, she glanced at Réjean and asked, "Are you...Mr. Sept-Heure by any chance?"

[bonhomme7h.livejournal.com]

"Ouais. What would you like me to do for you?" For all his confidence, it's a careful response. He's not about to ask what she wants or offer what he can do for her -- you never know what sort of creature could twist a blanket statement like that into a binding contract.

[rose-obfuscated.livejournal.com]

"Oh nothing." She took a sip.

"I'm just wondering why an acquaintance of mine would ask that, if I ever met you, I should slap you."

Brie blinked, in anticipation.

[gotbottle]

Easy to spot, indeed. Even without the shirt; Rachel has the benefit of Ilde having pointed him out earlier.

She's nothing if not well-mannered, and grateful for the opportunity for everyone to come together like this.

"Hello." She offers a polite smile, and a hand. "I understand you're our host for the evening. I wanted to thank you for organizing this."

[bonhomme7h.livejournal.com]

Réjean looks pleasantly amused by the offer and shakes her hand.

"You're welcome, p'tit. I'm so glad you're having a good time. S'there anything else you want? Anything I'm missing?"

[gotbottle]

"No, nothing's missing. This is great," she replies, smiling. "I think everyone needed this, after what we've been through lately. And I'm Rachel, it's a pleasure to meet you."