While Rome Burns {open}

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The Stab Wound was dark, creepy, and probably half of its clientele was there to discuss shady dealings. There was even a particular haze about the place tonight, a thickness no doubt brought on by the happenings occurring just outside. However, there was something punctuating that thickness: notes. Sharp notes, actually, and they strung together to form music that was somehow both dark and exciting. It spoke of something foreign, of the darker side of such things, more likely. Yet there was something sensual and exciting to it.

Dancing to it, swaying in the middle of the floor, was a girl. Said girl looked dark herself: with long hair that absorbed night, eyes of a "bewitching" hue common to exotic females. Her outfit matched as well: a dark half-skirt that bared a good deal of leg, along with a sleeveless top, all topped by jangling bracelets. Yet this girl seemed to fit in with the scenery as much as the rougher types hanging about the edge of the bar.

Chel spun, lifting herself onto one foot, and then smoothly landed: one foot extended just so. The bare pad of her foot connected with a barely audible noise, before the girl was shifting again, letting that dark music carry herself. She backed up a few steps, and stumbled slightly, sliding along the floor. A trip, a tumble, something close to a fall, and Chel was catching herself on what appeared to be another person.

"Well, imagine that," she said, laughing and looking up at the person "lucky" enough to catch her, "two people bumping into each other in a darkened room. That's not cliche at all."

[Anastasia]

This was not the kind of place that Anya tended to go too. In fact, on the list of places that the red head liked to frequent this one didn’t even make the NEVER EVER GO HERE list, it was that obvious she shouldn’t be here. And yet here she was, all because her new employer thought she might get a few tips by watching some of the girls. To Anya it seemed a little stalkerish and a little…well…wrong, she didn’t want to go stealing anyone’s moves and also she didn’t want to freak anyone out. However she was willing to try anything once and was really quickly beginning to regret that.

For the past five minutes she had been watching the exotic looking dancer that everyone else seemed to be watching. This was good, then no one or the woman in question would think it was weird that she was watching. However after a few minutes into this viewing Anya’s jaw had nearly hit the deck. How was she supposed to move her hips like that it was physically impossible! No one could do that, it was just crazy!

Moving in a bit to get a closer look she noticed the way every part of the girls body just seemed to naturally flow, it was just…right. When Anya tried to dance like that it was awkward and clumsy, but this girl. How? Just…how?!

She was about to ask when lo and behold the girl literally fell into her arms. Anya just about managed to catch her and still stay standing before smiling at the girl and saying, “yeah, I suppose the only thing that could make it worse right about now is if I said ‘Did you fall from heaven? Cause you must be an angel?’”

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"Mmm, not bad," Chel said. She reached a finger up and tapped the girl's chin. This girl was pale. Did she ever see sunlight? Then again, she had that flame red hair, and that usually indicated a fair skin tone. Something about burning or something. Chel never really got that.

"But clearly I clawed my way out of hell, no?" asked Chel. Laughing, she used Anya to pull herself upright. Her hands went to dust herself off then, before moving to adjust her clothing. This meant pulling down the skirt and pulling up the shirt, which of course bared the toned middle. Not that showing a little skin ever bothered Chel.

While adjusting, the dark-haired girl looked over her shoulder at the other, sizing her up with a critical gaze. "What's your story? Because girls like you generally don't wander in here. You're like little red right before she gets eaten up by the big bad wolf, hun."

[Anastasia]

“I came to watch,” said Anya smiling, before realising how stupid and wrong that sounded and continued, “the dancing, I came to watch the dancing.”

That sounded even worse and then quickly continued after that, “to see how it’s done, you know? It was suggested I came and saw the girls here, to watch how they moved and stuff so that I might, you know, get a whole lot better at it.”

Motioning to the spot that Chel had just been dancing in she said, “You’re really good, I…I wish I could dance like that. Everyone’s eyes were all on you, you were…commanding the room just be dancing. That is definitely some skill.”

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"Wow, your boyfriend must love you," drawled Chel, smiling broadly. The poor thing was practically bleating. Wonder if she happened to be a princess of some kind? It always seemed to be the princesses that acted like this. Whoever she was, she certainly wasn't helping herself by talking more and more. If anything, Anya was digging the hole deeper and deeper.

"So, someone actually told you to come here," Chel pointed down at the floor, "to see people dance? And you listened to them?"

Okay, so the lamb thing had been a bit too accurate. "I hope you brought mace," muttered Chel. She heard Anya sputtering, and understood that reaction: Chel seemed to get it a lot. The Latina threw her arm around Anya and began directing her toward the bar, practically dragging her along as they went. Chel made certain to flash a smile at a few guys as they passed, clearly hinting that Anya was definitely protected

"Of course I'm skilled, hun," said Chel once they'd gotten close to the bar, "I've been doing this for pretty well forever, and I don't really care if anyone's watching," Chel shrugged. "I just move. These guys though," she jerked her thumb at the crowd, "they're mostly watching because I'm showing leg. Hey, bartender!" Chel slapped the bar a few times, catching the attention of the burly man behind the counter. Chel turned on the most charming smile she had. "Can I get a few of those free drinks that they're obviously buying me?"

The bartender grunted, but drinks would appear on the bar in front of the two girls soon enough.

[Anastasia]

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” said Anya a little defensively, what was the girl implying?

Anya got the feeling she was being talked down to a little, patronised and she couldn’t help bristling a little. However the logical part of her brain was trying to inform her that she was way out of her depth in a place like this and it was probably a good idea to stay in with the girl. The hot headed part however was determined to prove just how ‘not-innocent’ and ’not-pathetic’ she actually was. Needless to say the hot head was winning.

“I don’t need mace, I’m pretty good with just my hands,” she said and smirked a little, “you don’t grow up in a country during a revolution without learning how to take care of yourself, never mind an orphanage.”

There. That sure told her. It was a pathetic attempt but it was the best she could do at this point in time. Sitting at the bar with the girl she continued, “At least you’re wearing more than a can-can dancer. Oh they start off all duly clothed but it’s amazing how all that seems to fall away throughout the dance.”

As Chel called to the bartender Anya leaned over and also called out after him, “And can one of them be a Vodka, straight up.”

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"Wow, really? Just put on a frilly dress and walk down the hallways with that puppy dog look on your face," quipped Chel. This was, of course, before she'd led them to the bar. Now, she was perched atop a stool and reaching for a drink that was probably more fruit juice than alcohol. While Chel could, generally speaking, outdrink most of the population (they didn't have much else to do in El Dorado), she found she'd rather have something that tasted good instead of something that just knocked her on her rear.

Unlike her companion, apparently. Chel let out a whistle as she heard Anya's drink, and she raised her hands in surrender at the return barrage of quips. "Alright already, I get it. You're a big, bad, handsy girl who apparently likes having hair on her chest. You're not, what's that cold place... Russian, are you? Because that stuff," she pointed at the vodka as it arrived, "tastes awful. You only drink that if you're cold or homesick, and even then, you're better off putting on a sweater or emailing Mom."

Chel was already working on her own drink, sipping the brilliant blue mixture through a straw, like a true party girl did, apparenetly.

[Anastasia]

“I’m Russian through and through,” said Anya, a little haughtily.
 
She didn’t like the way the girl was talking about Russia, or rather the drink, but it was one in the same for her. Sure it wasn’t the best of places, in fact it was pretty awful at the moment in her world, but only people who lived there got to talk about it badly. And even then they only did so very quietly, mostly in code. Given the first opportunity she had bolted from that place as fast as her skinny little legs could take her…but it didn’t mean she didn’t miss it. Paris had just held more for her…or at least she had thought so…
 
Anya lifted the glass and downed it in one, slamming it on the bar and turning to look at the girl that was drinking her fruity drink, “This stuff is nothing, not like the stuff back home. When it’s the middle of winter and snow is blocking every exit and the wind is coming through every crack in the house, this is the only thing that’ll keep you warm. You learn to love it.”
 
Looking at the girls drink and wrinkling her nose she asked, “And where are you from? The rainbow?”

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Chel snorted, "Not the only thing that can keep you warm, believe me."

Though she couldn't recall actually facing a winter. Cold was something rather foreign to the girl from El Dorado, the type of thing that people mentioned to scare each other. Chel couldn't even really remember ever seeing snow before. Sure, she'd read about it, and now she'd watched movies and stuff, but she couldn't really tell you what it felt like. Not like she was dwelling on it: there was alcohol to drink, music to listen to, boys to flirt with, and something resembling a conversation to carry on.

Though Chel was doing her patented "I'm half listening to you" thing during the conversation, where her eyes were roaming the room, mostly picking out potential marks.

"More like the pot at the end of it, honey," she said, mostly over her shoulder and at the Russian girl. "I'm what they follow all the pretty colors to find."

Chel hazarded another look at the girl. Pretty, in a rough sort of way. Not the drop dead sex appeal of Chel, but most people didn't have that. It was probably the whole rough hewn look that was getting Chel's general area ignored.

Ah, no, there it was. Chel wiggled a few fingers at a guy who was doing quite a good job leering. Might as well pick up a few more drinks; might help the Russian loosen up. Definitely would, if she kept drinking what she was drinking.

[Anastasia]

Jealousy was a terrible thing but it was all she was feeling right now talking to this girl. The way she had danced, the way every eye was on her. Clearly this wasn’t something that someone could just learn, it was something you were born with. The girl was just sitting there for goodness sake, and half the men in the club were almost drooling. Was it the way she sat? Was it the way she brushed back her hair? What?! What was it?

Anya so wanted to ask all her secrets but refrained because…well…she had her pride. And, who was to say she wanted all that male attention anyway? She didn’t. She hated leering and being hit on by guys she didn’t like and-FOR THE LOVE OF VODKA THAT MAN WAS BUYING HER ANOTHER DRINK!

Anya was sure that Chel hadn’t even moved and yet here it was, another drink. “That is…” she started to say but decided to stop herself and instead raised a hand for the barman, motioning to her drink, all the time reaching in to her pocket with her other hand to pull out her purse.

If she was going to have to stay and watch this, she was going to need more alcohol.

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"hmm?" managed Chel, turning back to look at Anya as if just remembering that she was there. Sadly, given that this was Chel and there were pretty sights to look at, that was likely true. She blinked at the girl, followed her gaze down to the drink, and had to chuckle for a bit. She reached up to toss back her hair, before reaching for her own new glass. This she raised while turning to face their benefactor.

"Looks like he's playing the field," she drawled, tipping back the liquid refreshment and thoroughly enjoying both the fruity taste of it as well as the usual burn of alcohol. She set it down, liquid still sloshing in the cup, and looked to Anya. An eyebrow raised. "Never had a guy buy you drinks before, Red? You'll get plenty of that here. You're just a white dress short of being a fantasy for some of these guys."

She pointed a finger around the bar, before catching another look. This one was just a tad too appraising. Chel gave him a smile that was much more "I could slit your throat" than "come into my bedchambers, you sexy sexy man you." The guy had to suck at getting it though, because he was smiling back. Chel nearly groaned as she turned back to her drink, mind already racing with possible plans.

[Anastasia]

“Who says I want anyone to buy me a drink?” lied Anya as the she reluctantly handed the money over to the bartender, “I can pay for my own and I’m proud of that.”

A white dress short of a fantasy. Well that’s what she wanted wasn’t it? She came here to learn how to dance, how to make every eye in the room be on her, was that all it took? A white dress? Sure in Area 51 all she had to do was put on some spandex and sing a couple character appropriate songs…but Trick or Treat would be different. Should she look into this whole white dress thing further?

She shrugged, pretending not to care and took a sip of her drink, which is when she spotted the exchange going on between Chel and one of the other bar patrons. “See!” she said loudly and pointing at the man, “who wants that? Who wants some sleezy guy sleezing all over them when all they want to do is have a quiet drink with a girlfriend.”

Grinning a little and looking down at her drink she started humming a few bars of a song she had heard earlier that day that she was thinking of using.

“Why am I always hit on by the boys I never like,
I can always see them coming from the left and from the right…”

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"Why pay for anything when you can get it for free?" asked Chel motioning toward their drinks as she spoke. She ended the gesture by scooping up her own drink, saluting Anya with it, and then knocking it back. This led to a satisfied thumping of the glass on the counter top: rim down, and a light tapping of the finger upon its bottom.

Chel might even have gone on to drink more, if it hadn't been for Sergeant Creepers of the First Peep Squad division. She had to admit: Anya had a point. That point was made perhaps a bit too loudly, as the bartender gave Chel a look that was half "get her to shut up" and half "do I need to get rid of him?" After all, Chel was a regular, and not exactly known for her wondrous ability at keeping things calm and peaceful.

"You need to keep it down, Red," she said, her voice almost conspiratorially low. "He's still buying us free drinks. Plus, he's bigger than us, and unless you're carrying a sword in your purse, we aren't going to win in a fight."

Which meant Chel turned back to him, just in time to catch the snippet of music. She frowned, twisting to look and see if there was a jukebox or a band playing. Music pumped in from overhead, but it was the wordless stuff that usually facilitated low conversation: the dance part of the evening being on hold for a little bit. This made Chel turn back to look at Anya.

"Did you just sing or something, Red? Because it's either that or I have definitely drank too much..."

[Anastasia]

“I don’t have a sword but I do always carry a fork just in case,” said Anya tapping the faded red suede clutch bug that was in front of her on the bar, “‘and why a fork’ I hear you ask. Well if I walked around with a knife in my bag people would think, well she’s just asking for trouble, the authorities might think that I set out with the intention of stabbing someone. But if it’s a fork then all they think is, well isn’t it lucky she brought a pack lunch with her today. A fork, is less threatening to anyone else that isn’t being stabbed by it.”

Nodding her head in satisfaction she lifted her drink again and took a long gulp, placing it back down on top of the bar. “Yup, I sing,” she said grinning, “I do it for a living you know, as well as making coffee and cleaning offices, the singing is the most fun though. I am actually pretty good at it apparently, well at least I must be if they keep paying me.”

“I thought I recognised you from somewhere,” said the man sitting at the bar beside them, “you’re the chick from Area 51, you were in the newspaper, I have your picture on my locker at work.”

Anya grinned and slapped the man hard on the back, “Why thank you, that’s a little creepy but I’ll take it as a compliment.”

The man fell forward into his drink, but he was still smiling and motioned to the barman to get another round of drinks for the two girls.

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"I have to admit, that's the best defense plan I've heard in a while," admitted Chel, raising her glass in salute. "I usually just bat my pretty eyelashes and use big words to get out of it. Or, you know, run like hell. But the fork thing totally works for you."

The next bit was a lot more surprising though. Chel had been expecting Red to laugh off the comment as a bit of a joke. True, the girl from El Dorado was hardly one to talk, as she was more than halfway toward becoming a professional dancer herself, though the jury was still out on what kind of dancing. Still, it wasn't exactly the response you'd expect, and it had Chel giving Red an appraising look.

Apparently it had a nearby guy doing more than that. "Yeah, I bet the picture's sticky too," murmured Chel, scooting a little further away from him and flicking her fingers toward him in a decidedly dismissive way. Still, it earned them more drinks, though Chel was at the point where she had to do serious mental math to determine whether or not she should be taking another at this particular juncture. It was during this time of advanced cognition that another thought bubbled to the surface.

"wait a moment," she held up a finger, "Area 51? You mean that freaky joint with the, whattaya call it, nerdy stuff? Trekkers or aliens or whatever? That place?" Chel scanned Red again. "and you look so normal."