Jack
[Tonight's Mask?]
Dice: 8 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 2, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9) ( success x 4 )
Nathan Marszalek
[GET OVER HERE]
niko
[okay okay, everyone hang on to your butts]
Molly Toombs
The day had been unseasonably warm, bright and sunny. People had celebrated through the day by dressing in hoodies and sweatshirts instead of winter coats and hats that would be far more customary for the end of February most other years. The night was cooler, of course of course, but not severely.
Molly Toombs was among many taking advantage of the weather and dressing up for the bar. She sat at one of several tables near the bar, keeping company with Nate Marszalek for now. She wore her hair pinned up, red bangs across her forehead and careful make-up on her face. She wore a dress with a high neck and half-sleeves and a pleated mid-thigh skirt, the whole thing fitted well and a deep plum in color.
She was drinking a martini, and sitting with an elbow on the tabletop and her chin in her palm. Bright blue eyes looked bored, focused on the two drunk men up on stage yell-singing something that she sure didn't care about into a pair of microphones.
"So," she said loud enough for Nate to hear her over the noise of the music and speakers. "Any incredibly interesting adventures lately? Or is this the first you've gotten out in the past week?"
She's joking with him, mostly.
Nathan Marszalek
Normally when they're out somewhere Nate ignores the hell out of his phone because he's more interested in the conversation than another potential conversation he could be having. Or they're arguing. It's very hard to pull away from an argument to fire off a text message. Up until recently Mr. Marszalek hasn't had the depth perception to pull off such a feat.
But his eye is markedly improved compared to what it looked like when he got out of the hospital earlier this month. He doesn't feel the need to wear sunglasses indoors even though the white of it is still gray and red in places. He has a scar running from the corner of the eye up into his hair. It makes him look even rougher than he normally does but several someones who shall remain nameless have told him that chicks dig scars so he hasn't done a goddamned thing to hide it.
Nate has a half-downed beer at his elbow and is in the midst of responding to someone when Molly starts busting his balls.
"Huh?" he asks. Then it dawns on him and he scowls a scowl that is comical in how annoyed it makes him look. He's joking right back as he extends his middle finger before he picks up his beer. "Hey, fuck you, I get out plenty."
The phone flashes again and he gives it a quick glance before he pushes it away without answering.
"Carole's gonna stop by. Wanna get the gossiping out of your system now, or...?"
Molly Toombs
Molly's eyebrows, no longer penciled dark but left their natural gingery-light color, crept up on her forehead to feign surprise at the display of Nate's middle finger. That soon fell away to a smirk, and she took up her martini in her hand and took a sip. Still leaned forward with her chin in her palm.
He'd glanced at his phone soon after and informed her that Carole was coming. Molly's eyes rolled intentionally away from Nate, up toward the stage, by the time he'd looked up to her from the phone.
"Oh, no no. No gossiping." Pause, and her eyes roll back to Nate and the smirk is an impish grin instead. "I just wanna sit back and watch what happens."
Nathan Marszalek
"You wanna watch?"
He's in rare ball-busting form tonight. If she ever meets his sister she'll find the two of them swear at each other worse than sailors do. But he talks like this to his coworkers and his friends and complete strangers he meets out at the bar, too. Reporters aren't exactly known for their goddamn social skills.
"Anyone ever tell you what a sick unit you are?"
Laurel Hensley
The day has been bright and sunny, but that doesn't change Laurel's disposition. Rain, sleet, sun, blood raining from sky...it's probably always be the same. The weather doesn't mean the world doesn't suck, after all.
Isn't she a pleasant girl?
Laurel's been busy and who knows how she ended up running into Amber. Maybe they just ran across each other nearby, or Amber called her and they met up somewhere. Either way, there's one place they invariably go when they're in the vicinity of each other: a bar. And so she walks in dressed in a T-Shirt that says "TRY IT AND I WILL FUCKING END YOU," jeans and a pair of steel-toed shit-kickers, with a light jacket over it all. For the record, we don't know what it is, but we're not going to try it.
She pauses when she sees that it's karaoke night. A blond brow goes up, but she's been here before and she knows the drinks are cheap and strong. "I'm going to have a fuckin' migraine by the end of the night, aren't I?"
Amber
The younger woman who enters the bar a few steps behind Laurel is gorgeous but intense, her jaw set and her stormy green-grey eyes hard. Her hair is down, falling in red-streaked-brown waves around her face. Like Laurel, she's not dressed up, but wears a plain dark t-shirt, baggy, paint-spattered jeans, and a pair of heavy duty work boots. She looks as she usually does, like an extra that walked off the screen of some over the top action flick.
How she and Laurel found each other? It's been months since it was hard to find Amber roaming the downtown area. She lived here for a few months up until the end of January. Nowadays she works around the area sometimes, painting again but with a little more ephasis on the artistic. A little.
There's a project she's been working on a little further north of here, where downtown edges out into the dark, dirty urban outskirts of the north side. But it's Friday night and Amber's not doing shit for anyone tonight. She's got a wad of cash in her pocket and she intends to get herself a little buzzed before she wanders off to wherever it is she keeps herself these nights.
Stepping around Laurel to look around, she grins a crooked slash of a grin and looks over at the bounty hunter. "I'm sure it can't be that--" she winces mid-sentence when she hears the guy on the stage try to hit a high note. "One drink and we move on?"
Jack
[Pfffffft watch how its done, kids. + Specialty.
(Is this when Jess is punished for her blasé mockery of botches earlier? Karaoke!)]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 3, 3, 5, 6, 8) ( success x 2 )
Molly Toombs
Nate's jibe back was met with a closing of lips, but all that did was turn the impish grin into a wry smirk. She straightened up, plucked the olive out of her glass, and stood up. She'd dressed herself in cream-white closed toe heels, to add the mildly retro taste to the outfit she'd chosen for the night.
The martini glass was abandoned on the table, and one set of fingers drummed the tabletop as she circled around to the side of it. "Well, it's to be expected, the world we live in."
The olive popped into her mouth, and she gestured toward the bathrooms to explain where she was going. Then, the hand that had pointed patted on Nate's shoulder as she passed him to go where she had indicated.
Laurel Hensley
Laurel can't help bit give a smirk of her own when Amber winces. "Well, the plus side is that depending on how many drinks we take, it might become tolerable. Stranger things have happened." Because really, they have. It's not the World of Normality.
She swipes a hand over her scalp in an attempt to get it out of her face and looks around. The two make quite a pair standing there, the angry, paint-splattered earthen beauty and the equally angry, also attractive in her own way bounty hunter. There's probably waves of anti-social "Move the fuck on" rolling off the two of them combined, but they're here nonetheless.
She glances over as she sees movement, notes Molly walking away to the bathrooms. They've met before, but only briefly. More of note, at least in terms of people Laurel actually knows, she catches Nate where Molly just walked away from.
"Yeah, that makes sense," she says wryly. It's not derisive, not angry(er than she usually is). More sardonic and faintly amused than anything. She points him out to Amber.
"Seriously, do we have reporter tags that activate when we walk into a bar together?"
Jack
Jack tonight and Harald who is called Jacky have very little physically in common. Jack tonight and Jack the pianist who Nate met briefly so long ago have very little physically in common. Jack tonight and the Jack that Amber's domitor (? [passport into a bloody mess]) told her about have very little physically in common. Jack tonight is wearing a Mask that most people who know it call Hudson. He isn't ugly (a squandering of blood [somebody's sweet dream (cauchemar)]). He's all right. An Everyman. An Everyman who could be taken for Arabic or Persian or Jewish or Indian or Sicilian or maybe there's some Spanish in there or who knows. He's the American Dream. Who knows. Nobody knows. He's kind of short. This guy. Kind of short for a guy, the shorter side of average. Good eyes. Brown of no particular distinction but they're good eyes. Nice smile, but he's nice. Gary Olson's assistant's new assistant's brother Hudson is nice.
Hudson - we'll call This Mask, This Face, Hudson from now on - is currently in a throng of drunk bachelorette nurses who are plucking at his shoulders and have taken him as their mascot and are urging them to go sing go sing they know he'd be better than these guys, and Hudson is trying to have a serious conversation with the least drunk of the bachelorettes, the one who has a business connection he very much wants, but it is not easy. He looks more and more nervous and grins more and more widely an unexpected and self-conscious sort've wide grin like if I smile they will stop bugging me, and when he laughs, it's a surprisingly deep, resonant laugh for so slight a young man.
Because Hudson is also Jack, he is perceptive enough to notice things. Things like people he knows or has met or has a friendship with under another guise. Things like gorgeous women who look like they'd fit this Ventrue or that's palette to a tee - or maybe that's the blonde.
Jack does not believe in coincidence; not in this dark world, where Luck is all you've got, where Luck and cleverness and desire to do what's right (or what's convenient - but for Jack, it's what's right). There must be a reason.
And if there must be a reason, he must find out.
"Hudson, c'mooon," says one of the bachelorettes, and another, "Who'ya checking out? Hah, he blushes!" "He should SING A ROMANTIC SONG," arms slung over his shoulders, words slur-yelled right in his ear, "SING A ROMANTIC SONG FOR MY WEDDING."
Hudson sinks.
Nathan Marszalek
If they're wearing their reporter tags Nate isn't paying enough attention to see the alert flashing on his phone. When Molly walks away he watches her until he can be sure she's made it near enough to the restroom without running into trouble and then he turns back to his phone.
The clientele in this bar are relatively chill as far as boozehounds go. They aren't here to hit on chicks and start fights with every idiot they run into. They're just here to embarrass themselves singing or watch other people embarrass themselves singing.
And Nate is here because Molly thought it would be a grand old time.
She's in the bathroom while some poor bastard is losing hearing in one of his ears. Nate glances over long enough to witness Hudson's agony. Without recognizing him he feels no compulsion to intervene. He goes back to tapping at his phone.
Dark environments like this can either compliment his complexion or wreak havoc on it. He's made the unfortunate error of sitting underneath a neon beer sign tonight. It makes him look Law & Order Corpse blue. He neither notices nor cares.
Jack
Hudson sinks. And tries to surface, thus: casting a glance around -- toward the bathroom first, because this is first grade (because first grade worked the same way when he was a kid), and if he gets there he's safe? And then, leaning back hard against the table, he says, "Okay okay okay," and a beat, and another of those smiles, smile because if you smile they'll leave you alone smile, or - no. This smile has more of mischief to it. A Loki-smile. A Low Key smile. He's ugly beneath This Face like a Liesmith is anyway. He is a Liesmith, after his fashion. "I'll do it, but," hold their attention, Jack, keep it, it's like holding a frisbee up for a golden retriever, except they're intelligent ladies brought low by the demon drink, god bless the demon! "But I have my condition."
"Oooh," the one in his ear says. In his ear. "A condition is it catching hee hee."
Hudson does not look pained. He says, "That man, over there." He points at Nate.
"Oh!" One of the intelligent ladies looks thoughtful, and knowing. Much explained, she thinks.
"If I'm going to sing you a romantic ditty, I'll need a partner. He looks likely. If he agrees, sure. If he doesn't, then Carla sings a romantic ditty to me."
Mollified with this sop of flirtation, they turn their attention to Nate. Five of them do. Betty, Bianca, Ronnie, Ashley and Jackie.
"WOO!" says Jackie, and she lowers her head and leads the surge most determinedly toward Nate. Laurel and Amber may very well be in the way. Betty may very well giggle at Amber and say "YOUR HAIR IS SO PRETTY" but that might happen a little later. It's a long way to Nate.
Amber
Laurel asks if they have reporter tags and Amber scoffs, audibly and visibly. There is no fucking way on this earth Nathan Marszalek has in any way, shape, or form tagged Amber in a way that would draw her to him. Well...No.
Molly Amber does not recognize, nor does she recognize the Everyday Man currently acting as support beam for an intoxicated bride-to-be. She's heard of him, but that was long ago when Amber was made of stronger, sterner stuff. She didn't remember Nate until it was too late. She doesn't remember mention of Jack at all, won't remember until it's too late over there, too.
But Nate she does recognize, and though they oh so recently were seen in public together, sharing a meal in a pretty nice place like couples who are infinitely more into-each-other than Nate and Amber could hope to be, when Laurel draws her attention thattaway Amber grins but doesn't invite herself into his presence. Guy was with a chick, huh, well what did she tell him? Chicks dig scars.
Chicks apparently also dig Liesmiths, too. Something about the pitch of the bachelorette party's giggles draws Amber's attention a little bit in that direction. It's the pointing-to-Nate that actually snags it. Amber studies that point like maybe if she squints just right she'll figure it out, but she doesn't. Not until the tide turns literally in Nate's direction, and Amber's grin returns.
She nudges Laurel in the arm beacuse maybe she hasn't noticed, "Check this shit out," then she looks around for an open table, something with a good view of what's about to happen. She spots one, a table a few away from Nate and out of the way of the surge of bachelorettes and nods toward it. "C'mon. I think we're about to be really glad we came in here."
Laurel Hensley
When the big group of girls start coming their way, Laurel stiffens. She very visibly tenses, her hand taking a firm hold on the back of the chair near to her and Amber. It probably wouldn't be noticeable to people who haven't seen a lot of fighting in their time or who weren't paying much attention to her, but anyone who fit both criteria would note the way her shoulders shift, her body lowers just slightly into a power position. The way her jaw clenches with the anticipation of having to exert herself. The way her eyes watch the approaching girls very VERY closely, waiting for any sign that it's time to introduce their faces to the airborne legs of that chair at rapid speeds.
But it doesn't prove necessary, and they pass by...onto Nate. And Amber suggests they go to a table and sit down. The bounty hunter doesn't respond right away, watching the girls until they're completely out of her personal space. Then...
"Huh?" She looks back at Amber, and the spell is broken. "Oh...yeah, sure." She nods and moves to follow Amber.
Amber
[what was that, bes' fren'? percept+emp on Laurel]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 2, 3) ( fail )
Nathan Marszalek
About the time a group of women who are truly embracing the notion of only living once have set him in their sights and started towards him Nate is putting his phone away for the duration and taking another bracing slug of his drink.
Molly is in the restroom so she misses when Carole Klein makes her entrance. Plenty of other folks do too by virtue of the fact that it's a Friday night and it's packed in here but even coming out straight from a 12-hour shift she commands attention. In her knee-high leather boots she's nearly six feet tall. Her jeans look like they've been painted on and she's wearing a red leather blazer over a black shirt. Her pixie-short hair is dyed platinum blond and she's wearing a flattering amount of eye makeup. The purse she carries over her shoulder could hurt someone if she decided to use it as a blunt weapon. She stands out of the way of the front door so she can not clog up the flow of traffic as she searches the room.
Nothing about her overtly screams COP. But folks like Laurel have had enough exposure to law enforcement officers that they can recognize the hawk-eyed attention to their surroundings and the ever-readiness in their posture. Homegirl is a cop.
She and Nate make eye contact from across the room. As if Amber needs any more proof to add to her thesis about chicks digging scars she tries and fails not to grin as soon as she sees him. She lifts a hand to wave and he returns the gesture before getting down from his stool.
That's about the time when he sees Amber and Laurel. Go ahead and laugh at him. He looks surprised and uncertain and not at all inclined to go over there. But they've reached the stage of their tolerating each other where he can wave at them to acknowledge their presence without applying pressure for either side to initiate social interaction.
And then he sees the bachelorette party.
Jack
Of course he sees them. He cannot escape Betty Bianca Ronnie Ashley and Jackie! Ronnie is the tail-end of their inexorable parade: Ronnie looks over her shoulder at Laurel like maybe she noticed Laurel stiffening, even though Ronnie's eyes are a little glassy. Maybe Ronnie's a little sharp, a little what the fuck about it. But that could be giving a lot of credit where credit isn't due in such volumes. Betty Bianca Ronnie Ashley and Jackie circle Nate with alacrity.
WHOOMPH. Betty on his right. CLINK, glass put down and almost spilled. Bianca on his left. PERFUME BOMB, Ashley behind him. GIGGLE! Ronnie to the front. WHOOPS, ahaha, Ronnie reaching out to touch Nate's table and be there too.
"HI," says Betty. "My friend--""Don't tell him like THAT," says Ashley, laughing."Well excuuuuuse me I guess we don't allllllll have lawwww degrees able to tell people things with the--""Ok Ronnie shut up HI." Bright smile for Nate.
Bright smile for Nate. Bright bright smile five bright smiles for Nate.
"My friend," says Betty, defiantly, "Totally has a thing for you.""No he doesn't! Oh my god! Shut up!"
LAUGHTER.
Molly Toombs
Molly reappears from the bathroom by the time the women reach the table. While other women (Amber, Laurel, Carole-- all currently unnoticed by the red-haired night nurse) hung back from the table to watch and twinkle with sadistic glee at what was transpiring, Molly, the faithful sidekick friend, arrived at the side of the table that wasn't completely shrouded by women and perfume and the smell of warm bodies.
"Nate, you made friends."
She stated it in a voice that had to be heard over the ambient noise of the bar, and stood behind the chair she had initialy been sitting in. Her dress was modest on the top, but a bar dress was always designed to flatter in some way, and so it was short in the skirt. The heels helped the illusion of long legs.
Her martini glass wobbled when the table was bumped into, and she caught it before it had a chance to spill and lifted it to take a drink. Whatever expression her mouth was trying not to show was masked by the rim of the glass, but her eyes twinkled laughter at Nate to give her away anyways.
Amber
[this is the best idea, all the empathy rolls for Amber! On Nate! how do you feel when you see that leetle group of ladies coming your way, eh?]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (2, 6, 10, 10) ( success x 3 )
Nathan Marszalek
"..."
Maybe there's a reason the redhead who was sitting here a minute ago abandoned him at the table. Such conversational eloquence is unparalleled in places like this. Anyone would be flabbergasted if one moment they were alone with their beer and their iPhone and the next they were surrounded by women who smell pink and sound like an episode of Sex and the City. He laughs but can't get a word in edgewise for the better part of a minute.
Carole takes one look at the scene and bursts out laughing. She can't even make effective eye contact with him when he's surrounded like that but god love her she tries. As they chatter on she slips into a free space at the bar to order a beer from the bartender.
It's about then that Nate realizes no help is coming and he's going to have to fend for himself. Where's his beer. Nate picks up the bottle and tries to recreate their trajectory based on scant snatches of recollection. There's a huge hole where earlier there was a gaggle of women.
OH THANK GOD MOLLY'S HERE.
He grabs onto her arm and gives the women his best attempt at a winsome smile.
"I did," he says. He tightens his arm like HOLY SHIT IF YOU EVER LEAVE ME AGAIN and flicks his hair out of his eyes. "We were just introducing ourselves. Hi." He holds out his hand for whoever wants it first. Nervous like he expects to lose it. "I'm Nathan."
Nathan Marszalek
[How about "He tightens his grip on Molly's arm"]
Jack
[Meanwhile, how smooth is Hudson over there? + speshultee. Errin you be my witness I'm totes gonna use this for moodposty stuff re: CONTACTS M04R?]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 6, 8, 8, 8, 9) ( success x 5 )
Amber
Nothing about Carole screams COP at anyone, except for the presence and something that feels like a tough-as-nails attitude. For Amber, what tells her the woman is a cop is that she's seen her around, and she knows that she is. Maybe she doesn't know Amber personally, but chances are she's seen her hanging around her or some other precinct a few times. The tempestuous woman tends to be stand out in a way that's memorable, even if she doesn't end up grabbing anyone by the ankles and slamming them into a wall.
Point is, she notices the cop and she notices the cop noticing the journalist the same way she noticed the bachelorette party noticing the journalist. While it's certainly not unheard of for journalists and officers of the law to pal around in bars after hours, something about the way the blonde looks at Nate makes her almost sort of grin a little. It's in that moment that Laurel stiffens, grabs hold of a chair and starts looking ready to start a one-woman brawl vs. the entire bar. Amber notices this belatedly, doesn't catch its source, and anyway they were going to go sit down, right? By then they're at the table Amber pointed out when she looks back.
Bzzt, wrong. It happens suddenly. Amber's getting ready to sit with Laurel in the cheap seats to watch the show, but then she sees Nate's expression when the women converge on him. Amber's demeanor shifts. Because Nate is a fucking unicorn, or a damsel in distress that Amber's rescued once already, and damn it if that doesn't mean she's going to come to his aid again.
"Change of plans," she says to Laurel, eyes locked on Nate a moment longer before she looks over at her other friend. She has so few of them, see, and the idea of watching Nate get swarmed by a crowd of drunken women seemed funnier than the reality of it. "I'm going to help him out." Never mind that his friend's returned and she looks faithful and tough enough to be up to the task of corralling a bunch of drunk bachelorettes.
Amber starts making her way over, and she looks just about ready to knock some heads together.
[uh, charisma+intimidation before she even gets there! intense!]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 7, 7, 8, 10) ( success x 4 )
Amber
[5 suxx]
Jack
[Hmm. Let's give one of them some WP. I ain't scared of you scary lady who is holy shit so scary?]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 4, 5, 10) ( success x 1 )
Jack
[No, they are all scared.]
Laurel Hensley
Amber starts making her way over, and Laurel...does not join her. Maybe she's had a moment of conscience and doesn't want to go murder anyone. Maybe she's scared. (Hah! Scared, sure. ...right?) Whatever the reason, she's backing away and moving quietly for the door.
Jack
"I'm--"
Nathan gets a cacophony of names. A lot of them end with an -y sound.
Ronnie looks at Nathan's hand like it is the most confusing thing she has seen. She reaches into a pocket and pulls out a stick of gum and gives him the stick of gum with a beaming smile.
"So okay," oh, here's Molly. "Wow, hi, okay so your friend, he's GOTTA sing, because--"
"Yes yes yes please help because he looks like a singer hahahaha HAHAHAHAHA I mean,--"
Hudson watches what he has wrought without a smidge of guilt. Because it has given him the opportunity to stay with the last woman -- the one he'd been trying, unsuccessfully, to talk to before. Without the distraction of SING, please, SING, it seems to be going along swimmingly. He's a smooth-tongued Liesmith of a thing, Hudson is.
"Hooohhhhhh shit." That's Ashley, all low. "That girl looks pissssed."
"Oh my god, is she your girlfriend?" Jackie burbles, catching a look of Amber coming over all doom and doom. "Are you like, a swinger?"
"Shhhhh Jackie shhhh be cool."
Molly Toombs
Only slightly jostled when Nate took a hold of her arm, Molly still kept the rim of the glass to her mouth and tipped her head back to finish what was left of the drink. It was at the time that he was staring at her intently and squeezing her forearm that she set the now-empty glass back down and patted his hand. Looked at him like she was answering back in a silent voice written across her freckled face -- Holy shit calm yourself this isn't a lion's den.
The women were all chattering at once, and while Molly wasn't able to pick out or follow complete sentences or just one person at a time, she managed to get the gist of things anyways. She understood that they wanted Nate to get up on stage and sing and this was something they'd decided on for a reason while they were back at the table, but now that they'd come all the way over here and were trying to talk together they seem to have forgotten the reason in the first place. Or, otherwise, they were taking their time getting to it.
Molly did nothing to try and quell the onslaught of chatter or make sense or order of it. Instead she patted Nate's hand where it rested on her arm and smiled brightly at him. She looked like she was about to encourage him to go sing. Go on, it'll be fun!
But then the girls were 'Hoh shit'ing at something and Molly's attention was brought over to a curiously beautiful, incredibly thunderstormy looking woman who was not so much walking over as she was marching. Something about her gait and how she held her arms and shoulders and scowl had Molly half convinced that Amber was going to arrive and introduce herself with a fist.
So it was Molly's turn to tense-- just a little, though. She was good at keeping her cool. Nate would notice she stood more straight, everyone else would simply see the humor drain from her face and a cautious eye glue itself to Amber as she neared.
Kazimir
The pattern of his feet rapping against the floor was broken, it wasn't so much one step after the next as much as it was one foot, then another, then a pause, then one foot, and another, and a pause. He favoured one leg, and used a small walking stick to keep his footing, leaning into the stick to take the pressure off and keep him from stumbling around. The sound preceded the silhouette of a cripple making his way down the street.
He was out, patrolling, searching, or simply wandering about in order to ease the boredom that often took hold of him so readily. His attention seemed to be channeled around him, he didn't just look with his eyes but his ears, his nose, even his sense of touch to whatever degree he could. People often blinded themselves to what was happening around them, but Kazimir was not so easily distracted by what might be happening in one sense that he would blind himself to the others.
The night unfolded around him and Kazimir did not see fit to stand out and greet it with a smile on his face, he much preferred to keep his distance, a quiet observer, a scholar intent on uncovering it's secrets. So while he did make noise as he moved, he did not dress flashily or to draw much attention other than the need to hobble forward. In his world one was served better being remembered more for their hobbled walk than the features of their face, and manner of dress.
For the moment he was just a guy with a bum leg and a cane making his way down the street.
Nathan Marszalek
"Am I a what?"
He looks over a second too late. Here comes Amber. There goes Laurel. Carole had been laughing at this a moment ago the same as everyone had been laughing at this a moment ago and now she is straightening away from the bar like she isn't sure if she's going to have to go over herself in a moment.
A glimmer of recognition passed between Amber and Carole a moment earlier. That's probably the only thing keeping Carole at the bar. If she had thought Amber was going to start trouble she would be there now.
"It's alright," he says once Amber's within earshot. Maybe it's for Molly's benefit more than anyone else's. His hand has abandoned its death grip and gone to her shoulder like to give her strength. "Amber, I can't tell if they're saying I look like a 'singer' or a 'swinger' but I'm pretty sure they're trying to get me to go embarrass myself."
Like it matters at this point. She's frightened everyone within line-of-sight into scattering for the nearest exit. Even Nate looks a little unnerved. But he looked unnerved to begin with. People with no game often wear that expression when they're surrounded by the opposite sex.
"So not drunk enough for karaoke."
Amber
Amber coming to the defense of someone looks only slightly different from Amber about to come swinging at someone. She does not seem to notice (or maybe at the moment she simply does not have enough fucks-to-give jingling her pockets) how people might take this beautiful stranger coming up to Nate as soon as a cluster of Other Girls surrounded him. Someone asks if she's his girlfriend and someone asks if he's a swinger and Molly and Carole tense up a little in their positions. Only one person has a clue how this is going to play out, and that person is the one storming from one table to another just a few over.
Hard to tell, the difference is that Amber is not furious, but she is too intense for most people to handle when she's at rest. Right here, right now, she's put on a deep, narrow-eyed scowl and directed that intensity. Not at Molly, who Nate grabs like a life preserver in the sea of femininity. No, she's looking at the other girls. Opening her mouth to say-- Jesus she doesn't even know what the fuck to say to get them to scatter. She's never done this sort of thing before. She's never used her temper her inherent ability to terrify those around her for the force of Good.
It feels weird. Luckily, Amber doesn't need to say anything at all. Her look and posture and the way she does indeed appear to the untrained eye (which is all of the eyes trained on her) all work to scatter the bachelorettes like so much dandelion fluff in a harsh, stormy wind.
"Take a hike," she decides when she's upon the group, for anyone who happens to have straggled behind. She does not grab hold of Nate and drag him behind her, does not throw herself protectively in front of him. He doesn't look like he's in any danger of getting clocked in the jaw or earning a new scar to drive the ladies wild. Even so, he is her sort-of-maybe-friend-type-person, and he looked like he needed to get himself a circle of space in which to breath. Amber can do that.
She looks over at Nate and in the process of looking him over happens to give him a look that pretty clearly expresses, Seriously, Nate? Saved by a girl again? Then she's glancing at Molly but only because her attention is really directing over toward Carole. Amber tries to meet her gaze and when she has it, she lifts her chin all C'mon over. If Nate's going to be rescued from girls by other girls, might as well get the whole gang together.
Jack
- and the girls scatter. They do. They look at Amber and they think, no: she's on something, she's like a stone, thrown into a placid pool, she is - she looks like she knows to take her earrings out before a fight, see?
Betty Bianca Ronnie Ashley and Jackie too. Even Ashley. Even Bianca. They lift their chins and roll their eyes and shift their weight and say,
"hey it's no big deal,"
and, "c'mon!"
and, crook arms together, pull: giggle-glee, giggle-y, burst of HEE HEE, back towards the -
The bar! Totally the bar.
Though Bianca says " - IF YOU DECIDE TO SING WITH THAT GUY THAT WOULD BE COOL - " and the others are scandalized and shocked and shush her and then the whole bachelorette gaggle goose of them are at the bar.
Amber, Molly, and Nate are alone at the table.
Silence descends, blessed.
Relatively speaking, considering the next guy stepping up for karaoke.
Molly Toombs
It's surprising how quick the role of brace switched between Nate and Molly. One moment he's squeezing her arm and looking at her like he's silently scream-scolding her for abandoning him to be descended upon by a flock of gabbing, drunk, tittering women. The next Molly was self-consciously tugging the hem of her skirt down (though that won't help it be longer, girl) and Nate was resting a hand on her shoulder instead.
The women left the table, deciding that this wasn't worth it.
Molly, reassured that Amber wasn't actually here to fight, blinked and cleared her throat and broke the blessed relative quiet that followed in the aftermath. "Right. Well, I'm Molly..." She leaned forward, stuck a hand out for Amber to shake if she opted to, and added: "I'm afraid not to say it's nice to meet you." At least she was able to throw a quip in there, to try and keep the mood light.
It isn't long after that Molly is pulled away, drawn aside for a conversation with someone that recognized her and called to her by name and waved for her attention. Someone that she'd waved back at and excused herself to go over and catch up with for a moment.
Or, she said it would be a moment. That could stretch out for a while.
Nathan Marszalek
Amber gives her a chin-jerk invitation to come over and Carole lets a grin slink across her lips. With her beer paid for and delivered she slips the bartender a tip and winds her way across the floor to join the other three.
"Molly!" she says when their paths cross. "Hey, girl!"
The nurse gets a hug from the taller woman and then she's on her way back towards Amber and Nate. No quip comes in the wake of her scattering the bachelorette party but she does ask what the hell that was before she extends her hand to shake. Maybe renew their introductions.
Then the awkward greeting between Nate and Carole happens. They have an audience and they both probably want to hug each other but they hardly know each other. They can't just shake hands. That'd be weird. Anything they do is going to be weird at this point. It isn't like they've gone on a proper date yet. Their schedules don't line up and he spent a month in the hospital.
"Nice of you to show up," he says to break the ice.
"If I'd have known you were going to get swarmed I would've gotten here earlier. That was hilarious. You were like--"
She does a pretty spot-on impersonation of a deer caught in the headlights of a car.
"Hah hah," Nate says.
If Amber wants to go after Laurel now's her chance. Otherwise this table has three chairs for a reason.
Amber
Amber looks down at the hand offered for a shake, and though it's a second before she takes it (what is this what are you doing people don't shake hands with me) but she does take it. And she tries not to crush it, which is made all the easier for the fact that no one's actually sent her into a flying rage. Yet. Molly's quip causes Amber to frown, eyes narrowing at her. It's a joke though, right? She turns her face toward Nate before her eyes leave the nurse to look at him, looking to him as if to ask if that's really a joke or if maybe she should be breaking this woman's jaw right about now. Whatever look he tosses at Amber, she doesn't end up breaking anyone's jaw and Molly manages to escape what is about to be an even more awkward situation.
Yet. The night is still young and they're in a bar and they've already been approached by a gaggle of tittering tipsy women.
And ugh, no. NO. Amber is not going to loiter around while Nate and Carole try not to flirt with each other or whatever it is that's making standing here feel so completely fucking awkward. There is literally nothing worse than sitting in as third wheel for two awkward baby deer while her own heart is a weight of a million shattered pieces in the hollow empty chasm of her chest. Not that she realizes she's going to be the third wheel yet.
Okay, there are actually things much worse than that, and Amber has been subjected to them already, but this? Hm mm, no way. She makes a face, nose scrunched in mute and disgusted horror at Nate that eases out a touch when she looks over at Carole. She turns to look over shoulder to say something to Laurel, but there's nothing left of Laurel Hensley in that bar but a dotted outline of her figure and a puff of smoke. Ugh, again?
That's all Amber can think anymore. Ugh ugh ugh why do I put up with these people ugh. It's an affectionate thought, not that anyone could know. She rolls her eyes at the cop and the journalist.
"You guys have fun," she says, turning away for the door.
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