undergrounds | [OPEN] March Post

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[OPEN] March Post

Guilty Pleasures
March (alternate Fridays), open to all.

[There are closer bars for him to be visiting after work. His colleagues have even invited him to one. Instead he's here. Alone. Not for the strippers (though from the way he keeps looking at them from the corner of his eye it's fairly clear he's not uninterested), but because its location and reputation. He wants to make friends. Connections.

Which he would probably have a lot more success with if he could get up the nerve to talk to someone. He sighs, loosening his tie even further and summoning the bartender to order himself another Maker's Manhattan.]

Westminster
Throughout March, open to all.

[Since Oliver works in Westminster it's not unusual for him to be out on his lunch break in either a small cafe or a bench, weather depending. He likes to get out when he can, take some time away from his desk. Maybe he'll even get some time away from a screen, though he'll frequently have his phone out too, either texting or checking the Facebook app.

Sometimes he'll grab a coffee when he finishes, taking advantage of how many establishments have free wifi. He's not always quite done with the work day, just eager to be somewhere he's not quite so unenthusiastic about being. He doesn't actually have to be there to fix all the help desk problems. Some are quite easy to fix through remote access. Especially with a decent coffee and a fancy pastry to make the tasks less mind numbing.

Not that he's always working. At times the coffee's just a nice way for him to unwind before he has to face up to the crowds of the tube in rush hour so he can get back home. It's easier to catch up on news articles on a laptop screen in a comfortable coffee shop than it is on his phone crammed up against ten other people. Sometimes all he does is take the time to browse period dramas on Amazon, picking one out to rent for him to enjoy when he gets back home.]

Wildcard
Throughout March, open to all.

[Choose your own adventure! PM me or ping me at my plurk [

technobabbled] if you want to plot something.]

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[Eammes has... Mixed feelings, shall we say, about this place. It's nicer than a lot of similar establishments, but it is also owned and frequented by vampires. Which is a significant failing on its part, he's decided, so this is hardly a joint he frequents. But the people who work here are gorgeous (even the few women on staff are stunning, he has to say,) and though they're pretty good at keeping their mouths closed when it comes to sensitive topics, the patrons are significantly less so. Find a good seat in a bar frequented by supernaturals, it's amazing what you'll overhear.]

[It's pure chance that he notices the guy looking uncomfortable a few tables over, having looked away from the stage to glance around the room, and honestly the guy's awkwardness is making him feel a little uncomfortable. And more than that, it's so distracting he can't focus on what the people at the table behind him are talking about. So, Eames does what any kind soul would do in this situation.]

[He calls over a waiter to order a dance for the anxious looking human in the tie.]

[Vampires are a big part of his reasons for being here. He has a good chance of encountering them here and he knows it. Though the downside of the establishment is that they might suspect his intentions of being slightly different than they actually are. Eames' generous gift quite possibly proves him right on that.

When the stripper comes over to him he initially thinks it's a mistake, because this is definitely not what he ordered, no matter how good looking he might be. A quick explanation and an indication of Eames tells him what's really happened though. Or at least gives him a better idea.

No one else has ever bought him a lap dance before, and honestly, given the complexity of his current state of singlehood he's not sure how he should deal with this. A dance is a dance, but he's not sure if accepting it might give the other guy the wrong idea. In the end he does anyway. It turns out the dancer's pretty talented, and he does have really nice abs.

Once it's finished and the dancer gone Oliver turns to look back over at Eames' table, raising his glass and mouthing an uncertain 'thank you?' at him. The question mark is practically visible.]

[He doesn't pay Oliver much mind once the dancer's been sent over, satisfied with his good deed for the day. Eames catches the glass out of the corner of his eye though, and raises his in return. The guy looks pretty confused by this though, and he returns Oliver's thanks with a questioning expression and a gesture toward said dancer on his way backstage, asking if he was good.]

[He doesn't immediately get what he's asking, but a glance over to where he's gesturing makes it impossible to miss the dancer's retreating back. He turns back to give Eames what is hopefully a reassuring nod.

If anything he's even less sure though. The guy hadn't even been looking at him, so why had he done that? Was it random? Was he making fun of him for some reason? Had he just felt sorry for the guy spending his Friday night all on his own in a strip club? That last one admittedly seemed unlikely given he was sitting by himself as well.]

[It does seem unlikely, doesn't it? But it must be the case. Satisfied with the response, Eames goes back to watching the stage and listening to the conversations around him. Totally unconcerned with Oliver now that's over. He's gotta be more relaxed now, right?]

[God, she must have "new to London" stamped across her fucking forehead, for all her wandering. How she ended up in Westminster, she'll never be able to answer, but she plays it off well enough as aimless, curious wandering. As if she hasn't done enough of that in her life.

Can't find a job. Can't find the right tube station. Can't even find a coffee, though not for lack of trying. It's embarrassing. She tries to put on a poker face, though, because letting on about it would only be worse.]

Okay, so. [Sorry, Oliver, she's zeroed in on the cup in your hand, so she sits down right beside you on the bench outside one of the coffee shops.] I count...four cafes within eyesight. What made you choose this one?

[Being asked questions by people not used to the city isn't exactly unusual in London, and at least in this street he could list the pros and cons of each cafe without thinking. He's been the guy with "new to London" stamped across his head before so he's more than happy to help people out where he can.]

They make great lattes, plus they have these amazing fresh baked cookies. They're kind of pricey, but on the plus side my loyalty card is only two stamps away from getting me a free hot beverage of my choice. [Maybe he sounds a little too pleased about that, but it's going to be the highlight of his work week when it happens, okay?] If you're more into chocolate I'd try that one, but if you're looking for something cheaper and still decent then the one to its left is your best bet.

[He points out each cafe as he lists them, then points out the last one in eyesight.]

Avoid that one at all costs. They're overpriced and nothing they sell even tastes that good.

You had me at "amazing cookies." [There is the slightest, slightest hint of sarcasm to that tone, but she does genuinely mean it in a lighter way. The guy seems...nice. Earnest. And human, from all she can tell, which is a major plus right now for someone who has stringently been avoiding "anything and everything supernatural."

Not to mention, something about talking to him makes her a little nostalgic.

She listens intently as he reviews each of the cafes, looking a bit like she's etching each of them into her mind. Her eyes linger on the last one he mentions.] Bad and expensive. The cardinal sin.

[He doesn't miss the sarcasm. He's self-deprecating enough he looks for it, even expects it at times, though on the plus side she doesn't sound like she's being mean about it.]

Hey, come on. My job's really boring. I have to find something to be excited about.

[Even if it is just cookies.]

I guess it's not the worst, but there also way better places. Right next to it. It's not worth giving a shot.

[No, she's certainly not being mean about it -- he hasn't exactly given her a reason to. It's just that "dry sarcasm" is sort of her default mode.]

S'pose there are worse things to get excited about, anyway.

[A bit of a smile.]

Don't bother with it, then. Got it. Thanks for your in-depth review.

Probably. I know that doesn't stop it being boring.

[He shrugs, taking a sip of coffee.]

That's okay. I know how it feels to not know where to start here. Might as well save someone the trouble of working out everything for themselves. Even if it is just coffee.

Well, now you know you've got a backup career as a cafe reviewer, if it gets too boring.

[The observation is sort of surprising, but...it probably shouldn't be.]

That obvious? [Her expression turns a bit rueful.] It must be a popular place for starting over. Maybe someone should start making a guide for it.

That's probably more exciting than IT at least.

[He smiles apologetically.]

In fairness it was mostly a guess. Usually people only ask when they're tourists or new.

Think anything's more exciting than IT.

[Sitting in a room staring at a computer all day? Anything but that. Literally. Please.]

Wow. Good guess. [She suppresses a slight cringe.] At least now the important question is out of the way.

Wow. Thanks.

[Not that he didn't just strongly imply he felt that way himself...]

Right. Nothing's more important than the best place to buy your coffee.

[A slightly apologetic look. She probably didn't need to take it that far -- just because it'd drive her mad doesn't mean it'd be the same for everyone.] Sorry. I'm sure there's loads of interesting stuff about it.

[No, Effy, that doesn't help.]

Some people really do feel that way, though. [She shrugs, watching someone go through the door of the overpriced place down the street.] Bit scary, really.

[Jean-Claude makes it a note to pay attention to the crowd inside his club, to understand who is enjoying themselves, and who could be enjoying themselves some more. Which is what has him focused on the man in front of him. Watching as he fusses with his tie, with his drink, and do just about everything but settle himself into the club, into the atmosphere, into the ambiance or a conversation or for whatever other reason a person might frequent his establishment.

And there's only one thing to it, really. Jean-Claude saunters up to the other man, a slightly coy smile playing across his features as he settles into a seat beside him and leans forward, to get a better look at his conversational partner as he does. He isn't certain whether the man knows who he is, knows whether he is the proprietor of the establishment or not. But that doesn't really matter to him one way or another. He will find a way to slip it in somewhere if necessary.]

Are you not enjoying yourself, tonight?

[Oliver doesn't recognize him. By name, yes, but not the face. Even so, his eyes widen and he looks a little guilty at being called out.]

Oh, no. I am. I just... I haven't really been here before. But it's good. I'm having a good time.

[He's not, but he still feels the need to reassure him. Maybe even convince himself a little.]

[Jean-Claude continues to smile though he quirks an eyebrow at the other man questioningly. There's nothing more suspicious than someone sitting alone at a bar and reassuring that they're having a good time, after all. Surrounded by beautiful people, beautiful dancers...]

Is there something not to your liking here, perhaps? [He leans forward, resting his elbow on the bar in front of him and his chin on his hand as he regards the other man. It's striking a pose if ever there was a pose to strike, but that's Jean-Claude for you.]

[The way he's looking at him certainly isn't doing anything to help his nerves. He's embarrassed, uncertain, but not entirely sure what he's getting at. He glances around, looking for answers that don't come.]

What wouldn't I like?

[Jean-Claude shrugs slightly, which could mean anything or nothing at all. It's hard to tell with him sometimes.]

You would be the only one to know. Though I cannot take note to improve if you will not provide the criticism. [He cocks his head to the side slightly, quirking something of a smile.] Is it the dancers? The bar? The venue itself, perhaps? Or is there something else on your mind...?

Oh. [His eyes widen, and he really hopes his moment of realization isn't going to turn out to be accurate.]

Do you work here?

[Jean-Claude's smile widens, quirking slightly around the edges as he tilts his head to the side. He enjoys the young man's expression. And he particularly enjoys such moments of reveal. It is one of the perks of being the owner of such an establishment.]

In a manner of speaking, I suppose that I do.

[Soeki had decided to try living on the wild side, a little bit. It's probably not the best idea for a witch, even a Circle Midnight witch, to put himself into the middle of a club where vampires go, but hey, Daybreak doesn't get to tell him who to hate, and he's relatively confident he won't be attacked and murdered. Relatively.

He casts the occasional glance at the dancers too, but as he makes his way to the bar and orders a straight whiskey, his gaze falls on the guy at the stool next to him. Someone who looks... relatively normal and non-fanged. Maybe someone as awkward as he feels, being here.]

Hey. Come here often? ...I didn't mean that as a pick-up line, I mean unless you're into that. But it's a legitimate question.

[Oliver's eyes widen, but he quickly breaks out in a grin, relieved and eager to finally have a conversation partner. ]

No. No, I don't.

[He doesn't look like a vampire. Maybe he's even a regular guy like him. But that's okay. Maybe that's actually better with how nervous he's been talking to people who weren't.]

Do you? Also not a pick up line. In case you were wondering.

[Not that the guy isn't cute, but things are complicated right now, and even at the best of times it's safer not to pick up guys in places like this without getting to know them at least a little first.]

[Congratulations Oliver, this park bench has a regular and she was not expecting to see you.]

[Elizabeth, messenger bag over her shoulder, coffee and book in hand, comes around the corner and stops like she's been startled. Usually no one's sitting on this particular bench because it isn't too close to the playground and it's fairly isolated, but she likes it that way. Quiet reading spot.]

[But obviously she's not about to kick him out, it's a public park. So she just smiles awkwardly--] Sorry. [--and starts continuing down the path. Slower, she's looking for another bench she might head for.]

[He shouldn't feel guilty. It's a public bench. He has every bit of right to sit on it as she does, but he still feels kind of bad knowing he's put her out of it.]

You could still sit here. There's room, and I'll probably be going soon anyway if you can't find another.

[Elizabeth looks back, raising her eyebrows in surprise. She hadn't expected the offer, but if it means she doesn't have to walk with her coffee in danger of slopping against the lid, she'll take it.]

Oh-- well, thank you. [She smiles and settles on the bench at a polite distance, taking care to split it evenly.] It is a little weird, isn't it? How people work hard at maintaining their personal bubble and the personal bubbles of everyone else? At first I thought people didn't want to sit next to me on the subway because they could sense I was American, but then I just realized nobody wants to sit next to each other if they can help it.

I don't know how anyone copes at rush hour. It's unreal how cramped it gets then.

[Given at any quieter time of day there are even people who'll take standing over sitting next to a stranger.]

Usually if I offer bench seats I just get weird looks, but I feel kind of bad taking up the whole thing by myself.

Well it's clearly made for more than one person-- just like subway cars at rush hour. But I guess nobody but us got that memo.

[Elizabeth grins as she sets her bag next to her.] As long as we're sharing, can I interest you in half a chocolate chip croissant? These things are as big as my head, I never finish them.

['Thank you' is all well and good, but a gesture can be better in her opinion. Plus what's she going to do with half a giant croissant when she's hungry hours later?]

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[OPEN] March Post

Guilty Pleasures

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Westminster

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Guilty Pleasures

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guilty pleasures

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Westminster

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