multiversallogs | 003 | OPEN. red lipstick on the end of a cigarette.

003 | OPEN. red lipstick on the end of a cigarette.

Who: Hasibe Ozcelik, and OPEN.
What: A show premieres at The Vault.
Where: The Vault.
When: Evening til the wee hours of the morning.
Notes: I will set up sections in the comments for people to hang out.
Warnings: WELL IT'S AN ADULT CLUB, SO.

The show starts at nine o'clock, and the bar is full pretty quickly thereafter, but the variety in the club is pretty striking. Xenians in their best suits, non-Xenians in leather and ripped fishnets, everything in between. There doesn't seem to be a lot of cultural divide here between human and not, even given recent issues. Hasibe makes good on her promise to have members of her cohort given seating preference, as she's sweet-talked the cocktail dress-clad hostesses, and the bartenders (in their vague approximations of suits with very open shirts) are aware that she's invited a lot of heavy drinkers. ...she just assumes people in her cohort want to drink--they've been kidnapped to a strange city with many new things to offer, so why wouldn't they?

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Penelope hums in an affirmative, nodding slightly, an affected furrow crossing her brow momentarily. "The dancing girls I'm used to are usually drunk chicks trying to attract a mate by stumbling onto the dance floor and presenting like a mandrill. This is slightly more appealing, gotta say, I mean especially since I made the costumes. Sparkly as fuck, right?"

She says that, as if it's a good thing that she has done that should be applauded. Like an achievement.

"More than a talent?" That sounded more useful than simple performance. Not that he had any use for it, but it was notable. "Then I'd make getting one of those instruments a priority.

"Do you have company here tonight?"

Ilde isn't quite sober enough to immediately place what a mandrill even is, and thus she's fleetingly sidetracked by trying to visualize something with no real frame of reference. Ostriches quickly become involved, and are as quickly discarded in favour of sparkly costuming--

"Those were stunning," she enthuses, cheerfully. "I liked Hasi's, that was you--?"

Diverted from her initial thought - to tell him about arriving with her cello, the same cello that her father had bought her, that she hadn't seen for years before Baedal - it takes her a moment to recalibrate, mentally, to answer the question in a sort of 'oh, right, men' moment.

"I do, yes. The tall vampire in the priest's collar." Her involvement with Ivan accounts, more often than not, for the fact she occasionally smells like fae-blood; bitemarks don't heal overnight no matter where they're left. "I think I left him in the Ctenophora."

The fact that there's a waiver for just one place suggests that, by comparison, everything else is safe and without need for protection against whatever one might need a waiver for. This is not wholly true, based on his observations, and that's what sets Bruce on (his typical) edge.

(It is entirely possible he's far too paranoid for his own good, but this is not news.)

"I get the impression you won't ever lose your knack, to be honest."

"I won't lie," she confesses, "I know it's not really your scene."

And with Raylan, while her instincts to pull are still there, certainly, she's more sensitive to how he's not exactly the 'clubbing' type. She can appreciate that quality. "I'll get you a drink, though, how about?"

"Technically," Hasibe says, so deliberately pedantic it goes around to ridiculous, "the VIP room is about forty feet in the air."

There's no actual visible reaction to that exchange between Ilde and Ivan just now, but certainly the sense that she was observing, and she will dutifully refrain from telling Ivan that that right there is why Ilde shouldn't dress young in his company, but the amused thought exists.

"Follow me. The VIP room is everyone's favorite here--well, besides the one with the red door."

The one with legal waivers you have to sign to get into because sometimes they secretly make snuff films in it, yes. It's quite an establishment Hasibe's found herself in. She turns to make her way to the staircase, the glittering glorified underwear that she's wearing oddly similar to the Ctenophora's styling. Might have been deliberate.

Edited 2011-11-21 08:10 (UTC)

"I really enjoy the way you talk," Hasibe informs him, absently, as she turns to do exactly that (leading the way through houses of debauchery is something she has quite a lot of practice at), "has anyone ever told you that before? Because they should."

She is entirely serious, for the record, however strange the compliment might sound; something about his matter-of-fact style delights her in this place where people tend to be scandalized or dramatic. Navigating the steps and various surfaces toward the stages should probably be more difficult than it is, given the height of her heels, but her balance is supernatural and furthermore she's very experienced, so nothing gives her much trouble. "--also, do you mean the suspension stage?"

Like she just remembered that could be dangerous.

"Mm. Then let's hope every place we go has use for me." She has a lot of skills, but a lot of the things she relies on are based on her looks and her sexuality--Hasibe doesn't define herself by those things, but they're always been where she fits most easily.

"Found anyone interesting, since you've been here?"

Hasibe figures it's only right to give her favorite costume designer a hand with this, so she steps up behind Penny and summons the bartender's attention through means unknown. "On the house," she promises Penny, "you've done a lot to help me bring in business tonight."

Bringing in business through T&A, yes, both of which on Hasi's part are on quite a lot of display this evening. It's as much that as natural talent in a place like this.

His brows raise right up. The idea is concerning, that she is with something that could potentially use her as a food source.

But doesn't want to think she'd remain in a situation where anything non-consensual was occurring, even the drawing of blood. He manages to keep the hair on the back of his neck from prickling up at the thought (no offense to Ivan, Rhade had a fair amount of post traumatic stress left over from war, and has come a far stretch in moderating his reactions already).

"Oh." What a profound statement, Rhade. "And were you looking for someone in particular back here?" Or like him, and just being painfully nosy.

Fuck that woman at the table, here's someone with a lot less patience for the dance of pursuit. Penelope slides onto a bar stool immediately next to Mitchell in all her pantsless glory (http://www.polyvore.com/penelope_drunk_girls_in_cluuuub/set?id=39643164), nudging his leg ever-so-subtly with her knee, in the way how it's not subtle at all.

"Hi. So we're both hot. You should probably buy me a drink." She somehow manages to look fashionably disaffected and yet flash him a hundred-watt smile simultaneously. The ease with which this is accomplished is frankly impressive.

He snorts a quick almost laugh. "That's precisely what I mean. And you do? ...Hmm." Not a thoughtful hum, but rather a surprised one. As if he didn't expect it to be the case.

"The last thing I was told was that I talk too much."

That wasn't something he should think about now. Already silently swearing at his deviating thoughts, he just smirked. "I'm glad it's somewhat endearing." Houses of debauchery are excellent at distracting from terrible thoughts. An athletic looking woman that passes by earns an extra glance, and he perks even the slightest bit more.

Rhade's neither the first nor (likely) the last person to find something a little worrying in Ilde's choice of partner; it'd probably be a very good thing if she were even half as worried about it as nearly everyone else. (Cindy may actually stage an intervention, one day.) Half the problem is-- maybe she would stay. Even she (privately) admits maybe she should've cut her losses when the only thing between her and an untimely death in Mafaton was lucky timing.

...and yet.

"I wanted to see what it was like," she says, touching the edge of the nearest doorframe with her thumb; her smile is oddly absent, but not awkward. "A locked door always seemed like a suggestion to me." To do something, or to investigate behind it; most of these are just closed, admittedly, but the sentiment remains. If something is just slightly out of her reach, she wants to go and see why.

"Oo, giiirl." That is Penelope's way of thanking Hasi as the bartender places a tall, narrow glass of delicious fizzy alcohol in her hand. "No, you know what, bitches gotta help bitches get shit done. It's all for sisterhood and solidarity and all that shit."

Yeah, but she's smiling. Come on, you know what she's like by now. "Excellent shaking of the ass before, by the way. Really showed off my craftsmanship. I clapped so hard I broke a nail." Look! It's true.

"Really?" That genuinely surprises her. "Well. Compared to me, nobody talks too much."

Hasibe is actually prone to periods of silence and withdrawing from others, but those usually do not occur when she's at work. As they near the stages, she watches one man be hoisted up on the suspension system by his back.

"Some people," she tells Rhade, voice lowering a touch, "do this by the backs of their knees, which sort of makes me want to cringe. So naturally, I want to try it, just once, but I haven't quite decided yet."

Hasi is pretty sure it holds no appeal for her as a fetish, but it could have other lessons. She does worry about scarring, but has been assured that can be taken care of through other means.

"Oh yeah, the silver with the dangly bits, yeah. Stroke of genius on my part. I'm not used to like, artfully showing parts instead of the other way around, but I think it was a success in the end, thanks."

In case you hadn't noticed, Penelope is not great at accepting compliments.

"Lingerie isn't usually my thing, but I could make you something, if you wanted. I mean, now that I know I don't suck at it or anything."

It's funny, maybe - Bruce sees her skills as being about the way she interacts with people; she's smart, she's meticulous. She plays people like other people play chess pieces, and has been such a relief on his arm in Gotham the handful of times she's helped him. He figures she's just having fun this way.

"It will." Meaning if they keep getting thrown together, anyway. And then he wrinkles his nose a little like, does she mean in the club? Of course he's fine with the content, it's just himself in context with that content that's still strange. He remains unsure. "Waitresses?"

Even when he's not loaded, Bruce is a sucker for tips. It's an illness.

Sadly, his concerns are from a lingering prejudice that he's only now starting to be rid of. After months of seeing people that he believed in act like monsters. Cindy's intervention is likely much more justified in its reasoning.

"We don't often lock our doors within our family homes. If you have secrets, you learn to keep them, as well as what you won't mind distributed." And the awkwardness of walking in on someone having sex was practically negligible.

A touch amused, he adds, "It feels a little bit like home."

Once again, Mitchell isn't startled, but unlike sensing another vampire's approach, this definitely wasn't something he was expecting. It has the effect of knocking him back into his Nice Guy persona and he immediately chuckles at Penelope's approach. It is impressive.

"You're not shy, I'll give you that." Which seems enough to oblige the lady and he waves the bartender over. He's not really thinking about why he's doing it, which is interesting because he was contemplating tearing someone else's throat open only a second ago. That's...just how he rolls? Oh dear.

"So what's your poison?"

"I'd love that-- I like lace? A lot." People are never really terribly surprised about how fussy Ilde is about her clothing, for some reason; she likes Penelope's designs, likes having pieces made for her, and given the opportunity to add lingerie to what's available there, well, she'll happily take it. "Garters and that kind of thing, like this-"

It may not be strictly necessary to hitch her dress so Penelope can see the candy-pink lingerie she's wearing underneath it, specifically the garter at the top of her (seamed) stockings, but if she is going to do something like that in public, this seems like the right place for it.

(Nice tattoo.)

Ilde's smile skews wry, less for how she feels about anything than in awareness of what other people tend to expect her to-- "A little for me, too, but-- it's not cultural, for me, it's just that Daddy was always so casual about his lifestyle. He'd love this place. That's how I knew Hasi, actually; she lived with us for a few months, when they were together."

Hmmm. Penelope has the ~artist's eye~, so she sees absolutely nothing wrong with Ilde hitching up her skirt right there. In fact, she's so oblivious to the implications of this that she actually hops off her bar stool and squats down to get a closer look. Yeah. That's dedication.

"I think I've got some stuff I could work with. Color thoughts, styles you won't wear, anything like that?" It's straight into Business Mode. The look on her face changes like night to day.

"That does seem uncomfortable." He looks up at the gentleman having his turn on the hooks. He's pretty sure it wouldn't appeal to him either, outside of a test of endurance (and he did like overcoming challenges). And those being hoisted seemed as though they could certainly endure quit a bit.

"But some would say the same of dancing with fire." And she handles the fire magnificently, the appreciation was in his tone.

"Just about anything." The entendre there is so far past 'double' it's disgusting. "Fuck it, Jack and coke, I'm sick of trying to be classy for this place. Nothing against beauty and art and all that but fuck it, I don't have the patience. I want what I want."

There's another one of those smiles. She may be straightforward, but Penelope feels it's always good to dispense with the artifice and get right down to business with these sorts of things. Get in, get what you need, get out again. No muss, no fuss.

Well. Less fuss.

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003 | OPEN. red lipstick on the end of a cigarette.

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One day. One day I will do a thread and not do that.

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ilu bb if anyone asks i saw nothing

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