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

[norea]

"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.

[fuckin_thirsty]

Deacon allows the group to list that way before lazily unfolding himself from his seat, pale fingers dancing along the back of it as he moves to follow. He falls into step not so far behind the shoulder of Ilde not taken up by her other vampiric companion for the evening, to point out, belatedly;

"By Gutters standards, you kind've already used it."

[rhinemaid]

There is a reason Ilde had the sense to refuse to bust out any pleated skirts for this evening, regardless of the preferences of the gentleman whose fingers she's laced hers through to follow Hasi, and it is in fact partly that their relationship is...like that, in addition to the fact he already looks vaguely like he could've fathered her.

However-- "Is that why no one tried to kill me there?"

[deservesadaisy]

"I doubt it was the only reason," Ivan says, a bit dry but not without fondness. He may be a bastard, but by Ilde's standards of how men treat her, he could win awards.

[norea]

Hasibe happens to think that thus far, slightly paternalistic note just there aside, Ivan is doing quite well. Bear in mind this is a woman who married a demonic serial killer on purpose, but she is a decent judge of some things...or so she'd like to think. She listens to them rather than saying anything, leading them up the stairs to the massive chandelier-like hanging VIP lounge.

...there are more than a couple local politicians whose platforms do not suggest they'd be sex club fans, clustered in corners of this lounge. Hasibe knows they're there, and notes it with mild amusement.

[fuckin_thirsty]

Well, hello Baedal.

There are those recognisable by sight if you pick up the newspaper occasionally, and shockingly enough, Frost does. He is reminded something of the rich and powerful tourists of the undead world, and isn't particularly subtle about scoping out the place as he walks on by. "I've got no complaints," he says, refocusing. "You're free to make my clientele thirstier any time."

[rhinemaid]

A skimming glance over the rest of the lounge puts names to a couple of those faces, fleetingly, but Ilde - more subtle, as a rule - doesn't linger on it and grins at Deacon, tucking her hands (and Ivan's) behind her back, falsely prim.

"That doesn't seem very difficult."

[deservesadaisy]

"Even if that's true," it is, "you don't have to say so," Ivan says, light. "I imagine most of his clients enjoy the illusion of self-control."

[norea]

Hasibe picks this line of work not just because her skills (people-related and physical as they are) fall into this category--they've honed her ability to procure information. She casts an amused look backward, voice low, though audible to her guests:

"As you can see, you've got some very good company up here." A pause. "Or at least fascinatingly hypocritical."

She will not be fetching any drinks for anyone, as that's what bottle service girls are for, but she will summon one of those over if anyone (okay, her or Ilde, probably) expresses the inclination.

[fuckin_thirsty]

[ laaaate tag is late, it's a good thing y'all like me ]

Being, indeed, a less than subtle creature, Deacon shows his fangs in the form of a smile to the nearest table they cross by. His breed of vampire don't particularly have powers of persuasion, empathy, hypnosis, but they can be unsettling when they desire to be. As repelling as any predator higher up in the food chain.

"Yeah, that's one way to put it." A glance back to Ilde And Ivan, scarred eyebrow raising. "Humans're just as thirsty for something. Look at these fucks."

[rhinemaid]

"Everyone wants," Ilde returns, like it's both self-evident and an object of curiosity (to her, yes, both of these things). "It's just interesting what they'll do to get."

[deservesadaisy]

"People generally know themselves very little," Ivan observed. "There's almost something admirable about being able to articulate what one's want is." He almost pities more those who stayed home.