tampered | RP Log; Ongoing [OPEN]

RP Log; Ongoing [OPEN]

When; Jan 20th evening
Rating; PG at least? (for uh drinking and stuff I guess)
Characters; Percival (

gegnet); and open to anyone
Summary; Percival decides to check out Automatica since his interest has been piqued.
Log;

It was easy to see what was so shocking about an establishment like this for someone like Borus. The difficult part was listing those qualities. There were too many to list really, the entire club was built against every principle he might have been taught. From the scantily clad bodies pressed in a writhing mass to the music that cleanly knocked away any other sound or even sensation in the pulse that slithered up from the floor.

The ticking that periodically haunted the citizens of the City became a faintly unpleasant memory in that moment for Percival. And if the club possessed no other redeeming value at least that much could be said of it. That part of it was almost a relief. He’d had far too much time for idle thoughts lately and the ticking had only served to chip at his sanity further. Despite having found a roommate Percival had yet to spend much time with him and by the looks of it troubles were heating up with the people from Shinji’s world so he didn’t expect any bonding time with his eccentric roommate in the near future.

That said Percival had little desire to join the mass of bodies. He wasn’t inexperienced or prudish really by any stretch of the word but this was something that was as foreign to him as the concept of knighthood was to other citizens of the city. It would take some time to adjust if nothing else. Alcohol though, that he was familiar with. Making his way through the mess of people with ease Percival seated himself at the bar, feeling just a tiny bit out of place. He didn’t look it though in the casual way he slid into the barstool, and though his attire was less “modern” his formfitting riding pants and plain work shirt were simple enough not to warrant any curious looks.

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Contrary to popular belief, Faye didn't like dancing so much as she liked drinking and dancing, and she didn't like drinking and dancing so much as she liked just drinking. That was part of the reason she stuck relatively close to the bar during her self-proclaimed anniversary celebration, tipping off the bartender when her glasses neared empty.

She caught sight of Percival easier than she thought she would. Probably because he was trying to look inconspicious, and as someone who knew a thing or two about trying to look inconspicuous, she could spot the signs right away. She also noticed that he was by himself, which wasn't acceptable for Faye right now. "Hey there!" she called, squirming through a few people to clap him heartily on the shoulder. "You made it!"

“Lady Faye,” he greeted as politely as possible, while raising his voice to carry over the music. He paused for a moment, if only to down his first shot. Letting the tiny glass set back heavily on the counter. Percival had yet to properly acquaint himself with the drinks they served in this city. They were quite different from what there was back at home if the drink lists he’d seen were anything to judge from. From meaningless, Blue Hawaiian, to perfectly lewd, Blowjob. Oh Borus would never had gone drinking with him if the drinks were named such back at home.

He fiddled with the slice of lime, sucking on it idly as he gestured for Faye to take a seat in his comparatively quiet corner. He fiddled with the fruit for another moment before letting it drop back into the shot glass. “Anything you’d recommend?” he asked, now was as good a time as any to learn about these peculiar concoctions.

Faye scoffed. "Lady?" she repeated, cocking an eyebrow and sliding into the seat across from him. "I swear, everyone's talking to me like I'm some sort of queen today, not that I'm complaining," she went on, picking up his discarded shot glass and taking a sniff. The lime tipped her off enough that it was probably tequila, which she thought smelled like fuel.

"That all depends," she replied, dropping the shot glass back down on the table and digging through her sweater until she found her cigarettes and lighter. The ridiculous hat on her head slid down to cover her eyes and she pushed it back, looking up at her new companion and offering a cigarette. "You want one?"

Zaheela was a little wary of whatever was in this building due to the fact that her ears, already sensitive to noise, were hurting. They pressed themselves against her skull in an attempt to crown out the noise. She supposed she would live as she hesitantly walked in, crossing her arms slightly due to the fact that she was dressed far more scantily then she would of ever preferred. It has been the only outfit she had which was not masculine in nature, and it showed quite a bit a skin...

About 5 inches more skin then she liked... EVER.

Her eyes observed the bodies meshing on what could only be the dance floor, bodies swaying to the beat and the slightly punget smell of sweat and arousal filled the air. The air itself was stuffy but she had come this far and she wasn't about to back out. She considered attempting to join the crowd, but figured that she would quench her, for some reason, parched throat with something with spirit and watch the dancers some more to get the general idea.

“My mistake, Faye it is then.” He waved off her offer politely, he didn’t mind the smell or others smoking near him but it wasn’t a habit that Percival indulged in. As it was his mother chided him about drinking enough, he hardly needed another habit for her to pick at.

“Not a big fan of overly sweet things, or anything too sweet,” he said slowly after a bit of thought. Usually he knew exactly what he wanted but the city was unfamiliar down to its drinks. “Shouldn’t you be out there dancing by the way? Celebrating six months in this chaotic paradise?”

Percival was still watching, not yet ready to immerse himself fully in this “clubbing” experience. And it was rather fascinating to watch. A good deal happening, trying to pick apart the couples, the threesomes, the large groups that moved together in a rather graceless manner, for the most part anyways. It was a big difference from ballroom dancing or the adorable traditional folk dances that he might have engaged in as a child. It had no method other than a general beat and the goal of pressing yourself as close to the next person without being naked and in each other.

And then off the dance floor he could watch and count the drinks others consumed, carefully forgetting however many he’d had for himself. The entrance was watched to see who else joined this aimless party.

“Don’t your ears hurt?” he asked casually to one of the women nearby, she’d only just arrived, he’d watched her. He was curious, he recalled that day he’d been turned into a cat by the City. He recalled how sharp each sound had been, how usually inconsequential noises could make him perk in alertness. He couldn’t imagine having such senses and sitting in this place.

"Don't worry," she said, biting down on a filter and lighting up. She exhaled smoke away from him, through her nose and toward the dance floor. "Of all the things I've been called over the years, you're definitely not in the area of Most Offensive."

"Then try a Four Horsemen," Faye said, tilting her chin down and smirking as if she were about to tell a secret. "Two whiskeys, scotch, and good old Jose Cuervo. It's probably the most un-sweet thing ever created, but it's pretty potent."

She took another drag and glanced out at the bodies and the lights. Shrugging, she turned back to him and laughed. "Trying to get rid of me that quickly, huh?" she asked, putting an order in with a waitress that walked past them on her way back to the bar. "Shouldn't you? Celebrating your first time in Automatica?"

Zaheela blinked as the man suddenly addressed her before nodding slowly.
"It feels akin to having to hearing a dragon trying to play jumprope night beside my ears, but i'm praying that It'll numb itself." She answered carefully as she quickly squeezed to reach the bar to avoid the wandering eyes of many of the male patrons. For what seemed to be the hundredth time this night, she cursed her wardrobe for lacking in the feminine attire.

She pondered upon what to drink, for she never did like the hard liquors, or any liquor without a fruit base to it. Shuffling in the hidden pocket of hers she took out a silver coin before trying to catch the bartender's attention, but being short never did help in the grabbing of attention, nor did the fact the the music was very loud.

“Ah no, not at all. I just wasn’t sure what you’re expected to do here. Dancing seems popular.” It was, the dance floor was crowded with people, most of them dressed in a way that would bring shame upon their family names or whatever if they’d lived in Percival’s world.

“I should try to make the most of it shouldn’t I? Not sure I’m ready to brave that yet though,” he said as he gestured at the grinding mass as if that explained everything. It did really, Percival wasn’t inexperienced or shy but perhaps it was the difference of culture. He would prefer to know the person pressed to his backside or whatever side they decided to come at.

"I'm not quite sure that bravery is involved in such dances." Zaheela interjected. She tried to ignore the conversation, but with her ears, the thudding becoming more tolerable, and the fact that the woman had mentioned that she had been here for a certain period of time had interested her.

It, however, took her a moment to realize who the woman was, the very same woman she had promised to cure any hangovers which could occur. She offered a somewhat sweet smile to the both of them before sipping on her water (she had gotten sick of waiting for the damn bartender to realize she wasn't there to attract more men to the bar...).

Faye looked up, probably blowing smoke into the newcomer's face, and snorted. "You think so?" Faye asked, stubbing her cigarette out in the ashtray and giving the new girl a smile. "I think it depends on your definition of bravery. Some of those people, the way they think they can move, have gotta be pretty damn brave." She looked over at Percival and said, "No one's really expected to do anything, except enjoy themselves I guess."

Glancing back up at the girl who had just joined them, Faye said, "I think I know you. Didn't you just tell me a little while ago you'd cure my hangover? If that's the case then pop a damn squat." She reached over to the table next to them and brought up a chair for the other woman to sit on just as the waitress dropped off Faye's screwdriver and Percival's Four Horsemen. Taking a sip of her own drink, she motioned to him, "Go on, try it. Feel free to use my drink as a chaser if you need it, which you probably will."

Smirking playfully, she murmured to Zaheela, "His face should be priceless after this."

“Well since you both know each other I should at least introduce myself I suppose,” he watched the other woman slide into the chair as well. It would probably be quite a pleasant situation with most men, an attractive woman at each side. But honestly the throng that gathered at Brass Castle had effectively numbed Percival to the presence of womanly company. “I’m Percival Fraulein, m’lady. And hopefully whatever Faye has ordered me will not steal my memory of meeting such a lovely woman.”

Percival was good at keeping his expression pleasant, or at least neutral, most of the time. But Faye had not been entirely truthful in her description of the drink. Un-sweet didn’t cover the taste…actually he wasn’t sure what could. And “pretty potent” was perhaps an understatement. Wincing he downed the drink, slamming the glass down harder than necessary. “That was cruel, Faye. Evil, even. It’s my first time, should you not be gentle?”

Eyebrow raised, Zaheela eyed the drink the waitress had delivered. To her eyes she could see the utter death it spelt. She couldn't help but grin before murmuring back, "You are truly evil... Do you know that?"

"I see you are also a charmer, M'lord." Zaheela began before smiling.
"My name is Zaheela Rouchelette, A pleasure to meet you." She almost moved to present her hand, but she had no idea if the man knew what the motion meant so covered her action by picking up her glass of water.
"I suppose she doesn't have to be gentle when she has someone who will assure you do make an arse of yourself walking home tonight from intoxication." Zaheela murmured into her drink.

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RP Log; Ongoing [OPEN]

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