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Post by Lorelai Holmes on Dec 7, 2009 23:41:03 GMT -8
Lorelai.Grace
There is nothing better than the feel of spotlight, metaphorical or physical. At the moment, this spotlight was nothing more than metaphorical. All source of light was coming from the many strobe lights bounding around the room. She was spending her sweet, sweet Saturday evening on a mission… And she was perfectly all right with that. Sometimes it could be an issue, being so busy with work, but… In the business of sex, information wasn’t so hard to get.
At this moment, though, she wasn’t chasing after her query. The type of man whose information was needed wasn’t the type to chase. He would want to be the hunter, the predator… So Lorelai would wait for him to come. To preoccupy her time, she slid behind the bar which was, strangely enough, missing a bartender. Lorelai mixed drinks well enough for anyone, as long as they liked they liked vodka and cranberry juice, and liked it strong.
What Lorelai was really good at was the aesthetics. She threw the liquor bottles everywhere, flipping them in huge circles and tight knots, sending reflections and glimmers from the contents all around the room. It was drawing a small crowd, all of whom were fascinated by both the girl behind the bar and the tricks she was doing. Lorelai was really craving some of the alcohol in the bottles right about now. Unfortunately, though, she couldn’t keep up this act with anything like even a buzz. And, her aim was to please, like the show animal that she really was.
Every catch of every bottle was accompanied by a sway of the hips, or a different which-way she leaned her body. It became a rhythmic dance, the flow of which incorporated the occasional slowing to pour a drink or six. Minutes passed, and it became tiring to watch their continual awed stares. They were like a group of six-year-olds with sequins, or a kitten with a laser pointer. Carefully, Lorelai slowed her throws, began to dull them down until she had completely finished her entertainment, and the crowd dispersed with just a few winks and calming, teasing words from her lips.
They were all the same. Smart as Hell, to be sure, until substances started in. She couldn’t get any of the jobs she really wanted or cared to get, because she wasn’t as smart as all of the others who survived The War. And yet, she could deal without her liquid love. Of course, she felt the pull, but she could resist better than any of the others who just followed the shining lights on to the dance floor. She was smarter than the addicted. That was all of them. They were all the same.
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Post by Billie Cadaver on Jan 4, 2010 20:05:24 GMT -8
Everyone is just awful. Especially the scumbags of the night. Oh, how sickening they were, dancing on each other like a bunch of mindless, reproducing, rabbits. All of them had so much beauty, it was sad to see someone like that someone so ignored, they have to dress practically naked and… It made a girl’s spine shiver. She had to be the one with the talent. The kind of person with the Eagle eye people craved in this damn world. She had no taste for this sort what-so-ever. Even if it was considered fun, she didn’t see how.
Billie stepped around the dance floor completely. The heat and… perspiration from the people fall against her. She avoided looking into someone’s eyes. The men so drunk they could hardly look straight, and they think they can seduce her. Oh yeah, she loved that alcohol breath so much she was just willing to kill for it. Something like that. Maybe the truth was that she wanted to kill them because they were staring at her like she was some sort of Sex Goddess, which she wasn’t. She wasn’t even semi-appealing when they were sober. Whatever changed their minds now would fade away in a few hours she was sure. She wondered if anyone remained awake after drinking.
She wasn’t much of an alcohol person anyway. Nothing other than water interested her. Billie wasn’t considered interesting anyway. She sneered at the male with slicked back hair and mustaches. They had mustaches for crying out loud. Mustaches freaked Billie out. That wasn’t the only reason she avoided the dance floor. She didn’t want to die. If she were pushed just a pinch too hard, she would be suffering a broken bone or dead. She was so fragile it made her detest who she was. If that war never happened, she would be so much more than what she was. Happier, even.
Billie came to the bar, and sat down gently. Her posture was entirely correct. It was her determination to never ever look bad in front of people that made this the way it was. Some girl behind the bar was putting on a show. Ending it, really. People scattered off to do their own fill of trying to get everyone’s attention. Billie covered her face in annoyance. What was this, a Talent Show? No. The girl was certainly much too sweet looking to be waltzing around in a bar with a bunch of these freaks. She asked “Are you some type of circus act?”
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Post by Lorelai Holmes on Jan 4, 2010 21:14:19 GMT -8
Lorelai.Grace
“Are you some type of circus act?” Lorelai looked up, sure the comment was addressed to her. After taking a quick survey of the clientele currently seated, Lorelai decided the only plausible source of the voice was a woman on one of the seats closer toward the end. Lorelai assessed the speaker before she decided whether or not to reply. She was average height, with thin waist and long limbs. Her face was heart-shaped, with dark shades of eye-shadow (blue, perhaps?), and black liner. She was absolutely stunning, and absolutely sober. Her back was erect, and her hands were crossed, the picture of politeness. Something about her, though, let Lorelai know she was weary. Perhaps it was the way her eyelids stayed half-closed, or that the eyes themselves were downcast. It didn’t matter.
All that mattered was that Lorelai felt pity, and so decided that kindness would be the best approach. She grabbed a glass and filled it with tap water, then sent it down the bar to her strange speaker. “No, but I wish I was sometimes. Wouldn’t it be great to just flit from town to town, never staying long enough to realize how much of a shithole each one was?” Lorelai wiped off the bar, attending to the more boring aspects of bartending. Nothing about it was really fun. You served drinks, cleaned the bar, worked the taps, and cut people off. It was a simple job, that was big on tips if you were lucky. She didn’t quite remember why she had stepped behind the bar in the first place, but she intended to stay there until she had been well enough entertained. Once she had had enough fun, she’d simply slide out onto the floor, and make her way towards her target.
Looking both ways, she saw no reason for her to keep too close of an eye on the bar. It really didn’t need much attention, anyways. Everyone who wanted to be smashed was already there, close enough not to worry. Anyone else… Well, the two of them were already right here. With that in mind, Lorelai slid down until she was opposite the uncomfortable-looking girl, and leaned against the wall behind her for support. Her back was aching. Her body ached in a lot of places, a lot of the time. That was more due to abuse to her own body than anyone else’s abuse to it. She was on her feet all day, and on her back all night. When someone offered her something to drink, she rarely was allowed the opportunity to turn it down. So, for right now, she’d just lean, and let her muscles uncoil. She stretched her hand across the short gap, so it was about a foot from the somber girl seated across from her.
“It’s nice to know not everyone in the world is a self-serving ass. My name’s Lorelai. Yourself?”
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