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

[norea]

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?

Comments

[truth_is_cold]

She's welcome to show all she likes. After all, it's not as if he didn't somehow manage to paint his own pants on somehow. And there is that decent amount of pectorals he's taking absolutely no shame in highlighting.

He just smiles his approval though.

"Were you looking for someone? Besides me, of course." Teasing had to work it's way in somehow. At some point.

[norea]

Hasibe can appreciate a certain forthrightness about knowing one's own appeal--she has never really succumbed to the cultural pressure to downplay her assets for the sake of modesty. ...clearly, given her apparel.

"No, just you." The answer is pert, but playful. "Have you gotten a look around at all the stages yet?"

[truth_is_cold]

"I have. Some look as though they could be the source of potential injury. I can't say that I'm entirely discouraged but I'll approach with caution." Though he isn't particularly attached to being here, either, and he motions back to the stage area with a questioning look. Silently asking if she wanted to lead the way.

[norea]

"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.

[truth_is_cold]

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.

[norea]

"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.

[truth_is_cold]

"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.

[norea]

There is, she observes, a little blood. That's something she'd have to keep an eye on, given the toxicity of her own.

"Some would," Hasibe concedes. "I'll try most anything once, but the fire-dancing has stuck. Raqs sharqi, the type of belly-dance I do, normally doesn't involve ropes or fire, but they tend to like the bondage element around here."

Candid, as per usual. Her tone becomes more confiding. "There's another game you can play here, though. One that doesn't involve any hooks--at least, only metaphorical ones. It's called 'spot the local politician.'"

Hasibe doesn't judge, and if she had her way, none of that would be a problem for anyone, but if those types of things get into the papers, there can be problems. She finds it a bit regressive, but the fallout is worth following.

[truth_is_cold]

Oh no, politicians. He nearly scoffs, but does start having a look around. "I can't turn down a good game. Let's see, someone not at all or to only moderately attractive, still gaining attention, well dressed, and not in a prominent area. I think there had to be at least three likely contestants back in the private rooms."

He folds his arms, propping one so that he can tug at his lip. He does judge. He judges openly as he scours the crowd.

"One in particular that you're looking for?"

[norea]

The way he lists off certain traits earns him an appreciative look--and a little bit of curiosity--but she joins him in observing the group. Hasibe has learned to do this without giving herself away, for which she's grateful; she doesn't want to attract the wrong kind of attention, make it seem as though she's suspicious. They trust her, here.

"Maybe," she says, with a small smile. "Political journalist, specifically."

One with well-known anti-Xenian views. A good writer, not a bad-looking older guy, but one who uses that talent to be bigoted. "But I don't mind collecting faces as they come, either. There was one fellow they tell me about who spent thousands in donor money here--one of those types who talks about sin a lot."

[truth_is_cold]

It's a useful trait. Rhade tends to mask his scrutiny by placing everyone under it. He's a no stone unturned sort of man. Eventually, some simply expect it of him and even trust him because of it.

"I know of those types. They're also delusional enough to blame their own instincts and their primitive inability to resist them as being led into temptation, and place the other party at fault." Case in point. Rhade can judge hard enough to leave bruises if he has a target. "In any case, I'll keep an eye out and a keen ear open if you have a good description. And if I find you something, you can tell me where I can have some good weapons made."

[norea]

"Speaking as the girl frequently leading them into temptation, that's a pretty accurate summary," she says, and sometimes this is benevolent, sometimes it isn't--she has specific aims in mind for this journalist (which she's considering letting Rhade in on), but it's always pretty conscious, even when she pretends otherwise.

Her cynicism about people's natures is wholly without bitterness. She doesn't expect honesty or "goodness" out of anyone, but that doesn't bother her.

"You have yourself a deal." She already knows some places. "The man is called Sandor Zendak. Slovakian. Mid-forties, maybe a little older. Brown hair, brown eyes, wears a lot of corduroy. He'll look out of place, a bit mussed, but comfortable. He's an anti-Xenian journalist for one of the papers here."

Her voice is perfectly matter-of-fact, but she does keep it low, because she doesn't particularly want a lot of eavesdropping.

[truth_is_cold]

Rhade has a very faint idea of what sort of appearance she was referring to (he looks very Balkan himself). "Does he typically wear those clothes or are they only reserved for his visits here?" His own voice is low. No need to raise it. Even with the thrum of a crowd, his ears are keen.

"And if I see him, should I just come find you or have a seat nearby?" And listen in. Coming to find her might come off as a little conspicuous if he did it immediately.

Maybe if he did enough spying he could get recommendations on a place to live.

[norea]

"They're typical, but dated enough to be identifying." She considers the options given, but only briefly--Hasibe's decision to enlist Rhade into this has been an impulsive one thus far, hastened by his offer, but she trusts her instincts, as a rule, and afterward she thinks she might have a chat with the other members of this nascent resistance forming. Rhade strikes her as having a compatible outlook, and he's Xenian, which means he's got an investment, too.

She pushes her hair back over her shoulder--this is a frequent necessity with ridiculous hair like hers, it's not actual fidgeting--and says, "I think it'd be better to have a seat, if you don't mind. There's no need to rush things."

[truth_is_cold]

The look he wears is a touch amused.

"Then I suppose I'll find somewhere to relax." He would send her a message over their devices, but honestly there's nowhere she could possibly be carrying hers with an outfit like that. So he just smiles and sets out to find the fellow that she described (hopefully, there are a good number of people here and the gentleman could be more standard than he suspects).

[norea]

"Perfect," she says. If she is concerned about any perception of her motivations here, it doesn't show--and in all honesty, Hasibe is generally shameless. She considers The Vault a paradise because it's an equal playing field. Men like Sandor Zendak know a lot about girls like what they perceive Hasibe to be, and there's a certain type of honesty in that transaction.

"I'll do a few rounds. See you soon."

She has faith in Rhade's people-finding abilities.

[truth_is_cold]

It actually doesn't take him long. There were certain men that seem to collect the most attention, and takes the time to indulge it from as many women as possible. There's a small group of them around the gentlemen precisely like she described, all looking as though they're completely engrossed in him (and some Rhade suspected were very much not human).

Either they are tempting fate for excitement or want the money. He doubts they all had Hasi's intent. If the gentleman (term used loosely) is upset by the idea, he certainly wasn't showing it in any notable way.

Rhade sits down at a table and orders himself a drink, giving the waitress his best charming, boyishly innocent smile. And asking her to send the lovely lady he'd seen on stage earlier a tip for him. The one in white.