Club Midnight

The music was something Skittles could definitely vibe with tonight.

Tonight's theme was electronic, and she was bobbing her head along with the rhythmic beat as she lounged on her favorite sofa, propped up against the arm and one leg lain across the seats to deter any thirsty weirdos who tried to sit next to her uninvited. It was in a corner of the Club Midnight, about twenty feet from the dance floor that was swarming with bodies, one head in particular of electric pink and purple hair bouncing up and down. It had a clear view of the bar where she watched a near-identical dog flirt up the barkeep. Angel was only trying to test her luck, and she knew her older cousin wouldn't let her slip out of sight with a total stranger. Skittles had caught the eye of the barkeep a few times with a lazy but acute look that told him not to do anything shady with her cousin.
       But for the moment her girls were content, and this allowed Skittles to relax visibly. She had had a few drinks already, and the effects were creeping up on her as she watched her best friend, Jasiri, dominate the dance floor.
Another part of her watched the front doors; Sometimes her contacts liked to come in and intrude on her downtime, which would ultimately kill her mood. She wasn't on a job for once, or in the mood to listen to a quick cash grab scheme tonight. Sometimes, girls just want to have fun, and Skittles was having plenty of it sitting by herself, observing the Club's chaos in all its glory.

@TheBardPrincess

Clubbing wasn't normally his thing, but a lot had gone on in recent times, and he wanted to have some fun to get his mind off things.
Stepping into the building, he almost regretted it. Wasn't really his type of music, but he could at least ignore it.
As he walks through the building, he looks around. Some people were glaring at him.
Did they recognize him as an old rockstar, or was it the aura of death that radiated off his body.
Not that he cared, he loved the attention. He could handle it.
He doesn't exactly notice the dog at the couch - even if he saw her, she paid them no mind. He wasn't exactly... looking for someone right now, and even if he were she was a bit young for him.
And short. Being previously a human, not a Mobian, he was naturally taller than most of the people here. Tallest of the Mobians was still close to a foot shorter than him.
He noticed a lot of people - short, round, and curvy; tall and skinny; a smorgasbord of different species.
Behind the counter was some kind of black bird, resembling a Babylonian. He noticed the dog nearby trying to flirt with him...
The bird certainly didn't seem interested, but was it because they were gay, were they trying to be professional and just do their job, or was it because they were intimidated by Skittle.

...
Maybe all of the above?

"Hé, monsieur! Barman!" He calls out in some Spagonian language, wearing his nationality clear on his blood red sleeves. "Can I get a Bloody Mary?"

An older looking possum with blue, tinted glasses and a cane entered the club, followed by a quite larger, intimidating bear in a black suit with dark glasses. The possum got a few looks from the people in the club, a few whispers going around as well.

“Don’t worry about me tonight. You go enjoy yourself.” The possum said to the bear as he gave them a pat on the arm. The bear nodded, and then exited the bar. The possum then walked slowly over to the bar and climbed up into one of the stools. After resting his cane over his lap, the possum ordered a drink.

“Barman. I’ll take a mimosa.” The possum said before turning around on the stool to look around the club. ‘Hm. Quite a few interesting characters out tonight.’ They thought to themself as waited for their drink.

Her eye kept a lazy tab on the first and second to come through the door, taking note of the bodyguard the possum had with them. That didn't help her relax. Skittles' alcohol induced haze cleared up a bit as she sat up straighter, tracking them all the way to the bar, to order themselves drinks. The first newcomer seemed to generate looks of wariness, and that make Skittles wary as well. Was he infamous? Dangerous? Or was he just disliked by the usual tenants of the club? 

Only one way to find out.


The barkeeper turned to look at his latest customers, and he gave a nod to each, grateful to get away from the flirtatious hound for a couple of seconds. Before long, a Bloody Mary came up for the first order, followed by a mimosa to the possum. But he didn't return to the spot where the canine was sitting, granting her a disappointed look as she examined the two who had joined the bar. 

But before she could press her luck, Skittles came over and slid her way between Angel and the closest of the two before ordering herself a fuzzy navel. When it came, she casually sipped it and spun on her barstool until she faced the possum, a brow arching quizzically. "Well now. What's an established gent like yourself doin here? I couldn't see you dancing in that getup. Or is Fuzzy Wuzzy the one whose dancing tonight?" She tipped her head in the direction of where the bear had left. "Is he going to get his dance shoes?" Skittles took another sip of her drink, her eyes slipping past them and eyeing the more unsettling of the two. She didn't like the way he carried himself, and with a jerk of her her tail, she signaled for Angel to step away from the bar. At first, her cousin looked furious at her intrusion, but relented and moodily hopped down from the stool and disappeared into the sea of bodies. 

"What about you tall guy?" The small canine asked the one who had ordered a Bloody Mary, eyeing him skeptically. She kept her body language casual, however, simply trying to probe and see if they were going to be trouble tonight.

Though the possum's presence certainly changed the vibe for him, he paid them no mind. He was in no position to judge, he certainly didn't know the guy.
He takes a drink of his bloody mary, when the dog girl walked over to talk to them... seemingly getting in the way of the flirtatious bitch behind her. Were they sisters?

She addressed the possum first, even asking about the bear. She certainly seemed nosy - can't just leave two men alone in peace?
It wasn't long after that she asked about him. He chuckles softly to himself, shaking his head before taking another swig. He then turns to her, with a devilish smirk.
"No, I'm not here to dance, petite chienne, I'm just trying to... get my mind off things." He responded in his surprisingly thick accent. His tone came off as very casual and relaxed, as if he was already drunk. Of course, he wasn't, at most he was just exhausted.
Up close it was easier to tell, he was remarkably pale.
"This... isn't my kind of music anyway."

The possum tipped his hat to the bartender before picking up the glass. He took a sip of his drink and set it back down on the counter. He was then slightly surprised by the dog coming up to ask him a question. He had quickly grabbed the curved handle and the straight end of his cane, pulling them apart ever so slightly. Hiding under his hand laid a concealed blade inside the shaft of the cane. Upon noticing that the dog was simply trying to strike up a conversation, they hid back their weapon and picked up their glass again.

“I simply came to relax with a good drink tonight young lass. And if you were talking about my bodyguard, I gave him the rest of the day off. And while I might not be as spry as I used to be, I used to be a fair dancer in my prime. I remember a time when my late wife Daphne and I won a best couples dance at a club not too different than this one. Oh, but that was many years ago.” The possum pulled a gold locket out of a pocket inside his suit coat and opened it to reveal a picture of a female possum smiling. “I do miss her some days.” He said with a sigh as he took another sip of his drink.

Just then, a light blue echidna entered the club as well. He was decked out in a black crop top and striped, flared pants. 


Hey, now this is a good sounding track, he thought to himself. 

He took a good look around the club, searching for somewhere to get a drink. It took some pushing through people, but he finally found the bar where the others were. He made his way to it, waiting for a chance to get a drink. 

"Hey, y'got any mocktails you can serve?" he asked the bartender, digging around his pocket for his wallet. As he searched, he diverted part of his attention to listening in on the conversations being had by the others.

Skittles had seen the slight of hand the possum made, and the distinct sound of a blade unsheathing just barely, then put back just as quickly. A brow arched as the possum rambled on. "Whoa hey now, I just asked what brought you here, not for your autobiography." She sipped her drink and shook her head, "I don't need to know if your wife is dead or not, man. Not the place to be thinking of sad shit like that." Skittles turned her attention to the other, her face filled with disbelief. She definitely didn't want these guys around her crew. "Ya'll are somethin' else. You talk too much about shit I didn't even ask about," She pointed a thumb at the possum, "and you have poor taste in music and picked the weirdest place to 'get your mind off things'. You know you can go up to the dj and request something else, right?" She shook her head again and scoffed. "Damn, gotta love the nightlife. The weirdos practically come out from the woodwork."



The barkeep would nod to the echidna, clicking his beak softly as he spoke, "What's the poison of choice, mate?" He threw down a list of drinks he served, "Not a regular here, are ya?"

Though Morgan agreed that the possum was being conspicuous and unsubtle as fuck, he couldn't help but be a little annoyed at the dog too for berating them when he answered her question, even seeming to judge his method of drowning out his thoughts.
"Now, miss, may I remind you that you came over here to bug us? You don't know what's going on with me and I certainly don't feel like talking with some bitch who insults my taste in music. Maybe I just didn't feel like making a song request, maybe I came here just to get drunk and have some background noise to block out my thoughts." He takes another swig of his drink, before groaning.
"I doubt you even know how to play a guitar, little bitch." He mumbles, clearly in a sour mood. Seemed he'd be here for a while, might even ask for a refill. He was ready to pay when ever.

Mint raised his eyebrows at Morgan's rant, but decided to stay out of it for now. No need to start anything if he didn't need to. He turned back to the bartender. "I'll take a virgin cojito, please. And no, this would be my first time here." He crossed a leg once he pulled out the wallet, passing on the money to the bartender. 

As he waited for his drink, he began to wonder if he should intervene or allow what was about to play out, play out. He ultimately decided to play nice, clearing his throat and addressing the possum. "I'm sure your taste in music is great, sir," he told the older man gently. He considered saying something to Skittles and Morgan, but decided now might not be the best time.

Mint came here to have fun himself, and did find the man's choice of place to drown out his thoughts to be a little odd, but he did find some rationality to his choice. After all, at the very least, the joint had alcohol. And almost everyone else was busy dancing, so he probably wouldn't get bothered too much. At the same time, he felt like the music would make it hard to think, and on top of that, the place was very different and more new-school than the places the man would likely be used to. But, he decided not to question his choice too much.

“My apologies. I forget that I tend to ramble on from time to time.” The possum said to the dog. While he did come here to relax, the possum did not actually tell Skittles the actual reason why he had come to this bar. When Skittles inadvertently called them a weirdo, the possum though to himself as he took another sip of his mimosa. ‘Heh. If you only knew the kind of weird things I have seen young lass.’

The possum then took notice of the echidna that had spoken up. “Why thank you young man.” The possum said as he got off the barstool and walked over to the echidna. “My name is Mr. Delacom. Might I ask for yours?”

It would seem shortly after the young echidna joined the older men, the dog would leave. 
Maybe she was just tired of talking to them?
Maybe something came up and they just had to go. 

Who knows. 
Who cares. 
Good riddance.

Now that he didn't have a hound hounding him about his taste in music, he continued drinking on his beverage. 
His interest had been peaked by the older possum, however... 
He orders another bloody mary while finishing up his current one, while continuing to listen in to the conversation between the echidna and Mr. Delacom.

"Mr. Delacom, huh? Neat name," the echidna said as he propped his elbow on the bar, placing his head on his hand. "I'm Mint. Mint the Echidna! Nice to meet you, sir," he told him as he extended his free hand, offering to shake Delacom's. He then leaned forward ever so slightly, with a visible intrigue in his eye. "So, what lead you to come here? Like, here specifically? I thought older guys would have nothin' to do with one of these techno nightclubs... apart from maybe the alcohol aspect, I suppose." Even though Mint wasn't on a mission, he couldn't help but try to gather intel, even if it was just to satiate his own curiosity.

Mr. Delacom raised his hand to shake the echidna’s. “A pleasure to meet you as well Mint.” The possum said as he tipped his hat with his other hand.

“You would be correct young man. While it is true that this… ‘techno music’ is not really my thing, I mainly came here because of the drinks. I have been coming to this bar long before it was also a nightclub. I have come to find it is one of my more favorite bars in Station Square.”

The possum picked up his glass of mimosa and gently spun the cup in a circular motion as the drink twirled around inside the glass. “It is quite a wonder to me that it has still retained the same quality of service that it had when it first opened.”

Morgan couldn't help but let out a small laugh as he gets his next bloody mary, hearing the old man explain himself.
"Oui, correct, you see this man gets it!" He almost shouts out with a big goofy grin, raising his glass as if giving a toast to Delacom, then taking a drink. "L'alcool et la belle vue des femmes et des hommes, all it's missing is someone with a guitar. I guess I could make a request, but unless it's me playing it I really couldn't care."

Mint smiled as the bartender finally passed him his cojito. The taste of lime and mint gave him a pleasantly cool yet sour sensation. He licked his lips after taking his first sip.

"Dang, that's some good stuff," he said, satisfied. He then focused his attention on Delacom again. "Yeah, I read a review that said the service is great here. I know it's not your stuff, but the music they play here is apparently pretty good. Gotta admit, what they're playing now is definitely nice." He leaned back and closed his eyes. "Even though I'm a total trancehead, I do enjoy more classical stuff. Jazz, especially." 

He then looked at Morgan, and chuckled. "The beautiful view of men and women, huh?" he replied, roughly picking up on what he had said. "Yeah, it is a pretty nice sight." He took another sip. "Anyways, that aside... you play guitar? That's pretty neat. How long've you played?" he asked, curious to learn more about the other man.