undergrounds | ᴛʜᴇ ᴅaɴɢeʀ ɪs I'ᴍ ᴅaɴɢeʀoᴜs. aɴᴅ I ᴍiɢʜᴛ ᴊusᴛ ᴛeaʀ ʏou aᴘaʀᴛ.

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ᴛʜᴇ ᴅaɴɢeʀ ɪs I'ᴍ ᴅaɴɢeʀoᴜs. aɴᴅ I ᴍiɢʜᴛ ᴊusᴛ ᴛeaʀ ʏou aᴘaʀᴛ.

ᴄʟᴏsᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ Nᴀɴᴄʏ.

He promised the girl a night out, and the night out he's going to give. He's arguably a bit late in keeping up with his promise, yet Killian isn't always known for his promptness. There were things that required his attention at the Nest, after his long stay away, and now it's a matter of putting all ducks in a row again. There's unrest about all the territories being siezed around them, but for all the whispers about it, Hook cares little for it. As long as the wolves don't accumulate much more land, he hopes to stay out of it. He likely won't be that lucky.

Perhaps this will be a welcome distraction for him as well as Nancy. He'd picked her up like a proper gentleman, and food had gone first — he may not eat much anymore, but he'd made sure to do it well for her sake — and now they're off to the second part of their adventure. It's not far a walk, so he suggested they do that, though that's perhaps hard on the poor girl's feet.

"If you can guess what's next I might have to give you a prize," he teases her with what is very nearly a grin. She's been a bit odd tonight, he has to say, yet it's been some time he spent time with someone he's genuinely fond of. Probably because he is not genuinely fond of many.

ᴛʜᴇ Jᴏʟʟʏ Rᴏɢᴇʀ. ( ᴏᴘᴇɴ )

Hook is nearly always at his pub by night, though not always in the front. He'll invite certain people to the back room — generally vampires, who are welcome to have a little blood with their alcohol thanks to the fangbangers that are friendly with the nest, but not necessarily just them. The only rule is no fighting on the premises, and if you break the rules you're not likely to stay long.

If Killian isn't found in the bar itself, he's probably in his office. At times working on problems for the nest. And if you're really lucky, you might spot him in the company of a small, precocious grey kitten. She has a bed in the corner but she always sleeps in the most inconvenient place imaginable.

ᴘᴏʀᴛ ᴏғ Lᴏɴᴅᴏɴ. ( ᴏᴘᴇɴ )

It doesn't matter how long it's been since his epic, sea-faring adventures; the pirate will always exist in him, and that means that he spends a lot of time by the water when he's landlocked to London. He is often there close to evening, wishing for the city lights to be a little dimmer so he can catch a glimpse at the stars, but sometimes he's there during the day.

He even takes on odd jobs aboard on occasion, when he misses being out on the water enough. It's not that he doesn't have his own boats, he just misses the sensation of working on a crew. If you spot him, don't expect him to stop until the day's work is done.

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Nancy wrinkled the end of her nose as he teased her across the table. He was always kind to her, and with that roguish twinkle in his eyes, what young girl would be able to resist? Crushes like that, they never fully went away, no matter how hard you tried.

"No-though I wish it was. It's a- a curse. I have to tell the truth." And it was making life really, really hard. It was astounding, how many white lies there were in her every-day vernacular. Or simply how much she avoided speaking the truth at all. It was easier around people like Hook and Kenzi, who knew her, who didn't care. But it put her in awful situations already. She was dreading the day she had to talk to Stiles.

But let's not talk about the curse. Let's drink more wine- which she did- and guess where they were going. "A show? I've always wanted to see Ghost of the Opera."

"A curse?" He frowned at that, and his attention was delayed for a bit. He knew Nancy was too smart to go around without a protection against compulsion, especially in her line of work, so how had that happened? All the same, he had to ask: "You weren't compelled, were you?" If it were someone in the nest, they could very easily be convinced to remove it. The pirate could be very, very convincing.

A show was a pretty good guess, but, not quite the right one. He at least moved on from the subject he had to imagine she was unhappy with. He might even manage to avoid questions that might lean too personal... probably.

"Haven't seen that one either, I'm afraid. No, it's closer than that." Just about a block away, though it wasn't exactly a prominent dance club. It might not help her a great deal.

"A curse." Because she just had to answer the rhetorical question. Because curses can't tell intentions. Jerks. "No. I don't take my charm off." a small opal that hung around her neck. "Cephei said it could be a random curse, imps having fun at my expense. They couldn't have picked a worse person for this." She sighed, irritably stabbing at her plate.

After a moment, she sighed again and dropped her fork, leaning back slightly. "Well it's not a film, nothing in the area. Killian, are you taking me bowling?" She fixed him with an incredulous look.

"That's bloody odd, isn't it?" He'd have to ask Tink if those wretched little things were getting a little more uppity than usual. The one thing he had to give her was how frustrating it must be. In fact she likely wouldn't be quite as fond of him if she knew how often and how fluidly he lied. "I'll avoid questions, love." Barring that last one, obviously.

He had to laugh at her inquiry. "Gods, no. I said I'd give you a good night, I don't think bowling qualifies." And one probably could not pay the old man enough to actually bowl. If he'd ever tried (and he had) he wasn't good at it. He waved for the waiter to call for the bill. "I guess it will be a surprise then, sweetheart."

"Extremely." Of course she had to answer. She rolled her eyes at that, stabbing at her plate again. "Thank you, Killian." That got him a solemn nod. "I just want to forget about this stupid curse and concentrate on something else." And what do you know, he was offering one.

"Not bowling, alright." She set the fork down and looked up once more at Hook. "alright, a surprise it is. It better be a good one, mind you." She pointed a finger at him as threateningly as she could with a smile on her face.

If the situation were reversed, Killian probably wouldn't have left his flat. Nancy might have lied to protect herself, he lied because it was easier to get what he wanted that way. He had too many balls in the air to risk dropping one by an errant truth. The problem with a vampire staying in was they really couldn't take ill, now could they? No excuse for disappearing.

"I'll spare both of us those dreadful shoes." It was not the most attractive quality to be so vain, yet the pirate was pretty determined to stay stylish and bowling shoes didn't qualify. He put a few bills down for their meal, before rising and offering an arm. "I never disappoint a lady, Nance, I should think you'd know that."

"and I thank you for that. I'll stick to my heels thank you." that, at least, made her somewhat taller than she would have been otherwise.

Nancy opened her purse for a moment, looking around for a compact to check her lipstick. "so. not bowling. can I get a hint?" unable to locate the desired item, she snapped her purse shut and accepted his hand.

She came to stand three inches taller than she otherwise was, following Killian's lead out. "Good- you've got a high bar set for you, so I best enjoy myself." She hadn't ever been on a real date date anyway, not that this was what that was. unfortunately.

"Might not be the best shoes for what I've got planned, but I think you'll manage, anyway." Most ladies he knew danced just fine with heels on, after all, even though Nancy did tend toward taller ones than most. If her feet tired, well, they could always head home for the night.

He wasn't perilously tall, close enough to six feet to call it even, but even with three extra inches Nancy was quite a bit shorter than he was. He tucked her hand around her arm, ever the perfect gentleman — or, well, close enough — and once they were out the door turned them in the direction of the club. It was only a few feet, no need for a cab or to jump on transportation.

"I'm not sure I could show my face again if you didn't." Being entertaining was just about one of his only applicable skills these days, much to his own distaste.

Nancy gave him a pointed look. "I'm not helping you bury a body." Seriously, it would ruin her shoes, and even if she hadn't technically bought them, she didn't want to waste them. Immediately after finishing her thought, she grinned up at him, following his lead down the street towards their final destination for the evening.

"I'd be incredibly upset if you stopped showing your face," she pointed out, "which would really just make things all the worse for you, I'm sure. You've got a lot riding on this, Kill." She had no doubts that he would wow her with his entertaining.

That does provoke a laugh. "What sort of dates are you used to, darling?" Fact of the matter was, if somebody needed to be buried, he'd toss them in the ocean, and not the ground. A bit of a macabre thought, though. He may be undead, but he generally did try to avoid burials during his nights out. Most people did.

"Perhaps we'll just compromise and try again if I muck this one up horribly." She was right, there was little chance he'd disappear. He needed this connection just as he needed to stay on good terms with her father. It was not the most happy of thoughts to try and consider who his loyalty would fall to, so he'd rather not think on it at all.

They were close enough to see a short line lingering outside of a darkened, rather ominous looking set of doors. "Just there," he pointed out, wondering how she'd take the club from the outside. It did look like a depressing, dreary place from the street. Inside it was far more lively.

"The ones where I'm only there to get them off," she said, cringing at the straightforwardness that the curse operated on. "Suffice to say, it's not a very high bar you've got to pass." She smiled over at him, unaware. Truthfully, she always expected people to side with Fagin over her. Why would they?

Nancy's smile quickly slid into a frown as they approached the dark doors. She could feel the bass from out here.

"A club." She said as she was sliding into line with other girls who were, actually, wearing far less clothing than her. Not that she was judging. Honestly, she's pretty impressed with Killian's decision. Already, people were starting to look at him, and glance her way with jealousy.

"That's not a date, it's business." He's rather matter-of-fact about it, too. If he's supposed to feel oddly about such a blunt reference, well, that's never been the sort of man he is. He thinks there's a great deal of power in sexuality, especially a woman's. If she can get what she wants out of it, who had any right to stop her? He'd never used sex for money, but he'd used it for just about anything and everything else.

After all, he was good looking, always had been. He'd used it to his advantage for his entire lifetime, it'd be very hypocritical to judge her for the same. He might have preferred she make that choice for herself, instead of the dreadful man that kept her.

"Probably not the kind that you're used to," he warned, directing them past the line and toward the door. There was some sound of protest at that when the bouncer let them through, but he paid it little mind. The music was lively once they made it through the door, even if the darkened halls with the coat check were still a bit from the floor. "Ever tried salsa, Nancy?" he leaned a bit closer to make sure she could hear him, over the noise. He didn't go to places like this often, the noise was terrible on already sensitive hearing, but it'd be worth it for the night.

"Some have treated it like a date," she pointed out. They wined her and dined her in a nice hotel, then left the money on the night stand with the room paid until 1 and brunch already ordered for you. Those were always the best sorts of nights. The ones that she found herself enjoying. There was nothing wrong with that, either.

"But I don't actually date-date." See? Very low bar. If she did date-date... No one would be comfortable dating a prostitute. "Oh! Wow, that's some high-class there, slipping past the velvet ropes." She grinned at him, the smallest of dimples appearing on her cheeks.

She was about to question him about his sort of club when he brought her in and she could properly hear the music. She raised an eyebrow. "Can't say that I have. But let's see if I can rise to the occasion."

"As a gentleman should." He'd never had to pay for sex before, even back when he was surrounded by ladies of the night and wenches in taverns it had been pretty easy to find someone to fill his bed when he wanted them. Still, he liked to think he gave every one of them a night to remember. It was a point of pride.

Killian didn't wait for many things, and certainly not lines. He shifts shoulders upwards at her pointing it out, clearly not repentant. If he couldn't get in instantly he'd probably not go in at all or get a new way. He frowned at the confession she didn't date at all, because he didn't see any reason why she shouldn't. "That's bound to change sooner or later, so I'd best enjoy the time I get." Presumably a boyfriend wouldn't expressly enjoy her running about with a dashing man. He knew he wouldn't in that situation.

"You've a very fine teacher." The lights were low but once they made it far enough, it was clear there were plenty of dancers. Enough to disappear in while she got a hang of the steps.

"Pity they weren't all gentlemen, then." Some of the gentlemen bought her other nice things, but those were rare. Mostly those were the older vampires who had more than enough money to throw around after centuries of life.

"Any boyfriend, I'm sure, wouldn't want her running around with men period. Which means no income, except for what I'm stealing, which meant losing a portion of that to Fagin as well. Unless any boyfriend decided to become, in essence, my pimp. Which I'd rather not deal with entirely, so I just call the whole thing off." Immediately, one of Nancy's hands snapped to her mouth, covering her lips in shock at what she just said. "I fucking hate this curse!" But at the same time, she felt something lifting, a weight on her shoulders becoming lighter. She blinked.

"Let's pretend that never happened, and you show me these steps." Please, please, please, let her get what she wants this time.

Well, he imagines that is a great deal more than she intended to say. He frowns and it's a bit of a battle, trying to decide what to say, and what might be too much. Despite how averse he is to affection and actually caring for others, the hopeless fool that had fallen for Milah still lived in him. He believed in love, even if it was a dangerous condition indeed.

"If it's something you want, Nance, don't give up before you even start." It was something he couldn't wholly support, when he himself wished he could remove himself from love entirely. Loving once had been painful enough, he didn't intend to try it again. Still, it had been beautiful enough when it lasted that he couldn't dismiss it entirely. The only one who could make that choice was Nancy herself.

He was all too willing to distract her with showing her the steps, though, taking her hand and leading her closer. "Try not to look at your feet, and follow my lead." The pace of the song was slow enough, it wasn't too hard to draw her into the steps. Most of salsa involved adopting your own flavor to the beat, and he suspected Nancy would do just that once she was comfortable with the movement.

Nancy looked up at Killian with shining eyes, bright with adoration. "You always know what to say," she confessed, blinking. The curse had gotten her, understandably, more emotional than usual. Everything was closer to the surface.

But she'd take those words and keep them close. Write them down somewhere, maybe in her Book of Shadows, where she kept her experiences with magic and the supernatural. To help her learn. She had another where she jotted down spells as she learned them, but it was good to keep records of everything else. You never knew when you'd need an alibi, anyway.

She watched Killian's feet closely, moving along with him. She slid into the rhythm easily enough, only occasionally thinking too hard about it and fumbling. But she was an adept dancer, part of growing up where she had. There was always music in the den, and you couldn't stay for more than a few days before being forced to learn something. Fagin was an old Fae, and you went with it for fear of upsetting him.

"You're a good teacher," she told her partner, moving in time to the beat. A glance over her shoulder told her it was best to really get into it, so, she did, for better or for worse.

Love was both the best and the worst thing that had ever happened to him. Killian wasn't sure that he'd be the same man if he had never lived it. It'd made him a better man, then, but age and distance had soured what had once been quite beautiful. It was hard to remember the good parts of being in love when he had spent so much more time mourning it.

Still, Nancy was young. Maybe there was hope for her. The world had never been terribly kind to him, wrenching away everything it ever given him only after he'd had long enough to mourn it when it was gone. Granted, the world did not seem to have been terribly kind to Nancy, either, but perhaps he had it in him to hope better for someone else.

She did seem to take to the steps quickly, and he thought that she might. It would have been a fools errand to take a completely graceless girl dancing, but he never thought Nancy to be such. She took the steps quickly and he did his best to guide her, even managing something perilously close to a grin as she started to get more confident. "A grand teacher and a grander student," he declared, and as she found the beat and the wild air around them, he didn't think too much about bringing her closer and doing the same. Salsa was a dance of life and fire, and he didn't have much of that left in him, but it was nice to pretend on occasion. They were a bolt of red and black on the floor, and hopefully in the end, she wouldn't think him a poor date.

He'd taken too many girls out in his three centuries to be a shabby date.

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ᴛʜᴇ ᴅaɴɢeʀ ɪs I'ᴍ ᴅaɴɢeʀoᴜs. aɴᴅ I ᴍiɢʜᴛ ᴊusᴛ ᴛeaʀ ʏou aᴘaʀᴛ.

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