tampered | Log; Ongoing

When; July 11th, All Night Long
Rating; Mommy wouldn't approve.
Characters; All are welcome, so long as they've got dancing shoes on their feet and clams in their pockets.
Summary;

Welcome to The Cat's Pajamas~

Servers are many, canaries a plenty. Find you a pretty bird behind the bar, or a Fat Cat in the back alley, it's all Jake, baby. Something's eating you? Talk to Mama Yuuko, the owner, and she'll take you for a ride.

First wiggle~ And we'll keep rolling all night long.

Log;

It was a little early to be opening up, but Yuuko didn't see the harm in it. No bulls on her tail for the past month, no one suspicious sneaking around, trying to find fault with her Establishment. Just rubes and bootleg and Jazz down to her toes. Down to the toes of everyone who danced on her floor. Every new fangled dance that those cats down on Tin Pan Alley came up with danced itself right up to her door and into her place. Swanky as hell it was, her little back alley hide away, with no room for riff-raff; only the young and the beautiful need apply. She gave them what they wanted, with a wink and a kiss, and they went wild--all limbs and legs, flappers and dappers.

And as long as they stayed quiet, never let a peep out to those wet blankets called the law, she let them get plastered, let them coddle up in the dark corners where their mommies wouldn't dare go. This was life, baby, and she wasn't going to let anyone ruin her joint.

"Boys, I want those bar tops shining. We've got a big night ahead of us, so you better pick up the pace. I don't want to see any dead soldiers, you hear? Keep it flowing. I want the girls singin' loud and clear, with plenty of wiggle. We've got customers to please, got it?"

Casting a critical eye over the proceedings, Yuuko took a long drag on her cigarette and headed for her office upstairs. "I'll be down again in a jiffy. Some one bring me a Java."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Doumeki raised an eyebrow as Vash declined the cigarette, but only shrugged, sticking the pack back in his pocket and pulling out a lighter, bending down breifly to light up, inhaling a bit and gently blowing out the smoke--looking for all the world like a frighteningly younger version of his grandfather, for those that had known Haruka.

But as it was, no one here really knew his grandfather, so the thought wasn't even touched on. Instead, Doumeki leaned a bit back on the back of the bar, crossing one foot in front of the other. "So, Stampede, what youse been up to?" he asked, one dark eyebrow raising slightly.

"Trying to shake my brother," Vash mused. "You know, the bull. He's been sniffing around more than usual."

And Vash found it incredibly funny. Knives would never live it down. Ever.

"And you?" He was deathly curious to know what Doumeki would be recalling under the influence of the curse.

The teenager's nose wrikled at the mention of the cops. "Horsefeathers, Stampede. Tell me he's a flat tire or a goof or sumthin', an den I'll relax."

He then turned his attention to Vash's next question, merely shrugging as he took another drag of his cigarette. "You know, da usual. Kickin' out da crashers and keepin' da blotters happy...coverin' for Watanuki when he gets all bluenose on it and Mama Yuuko's gotta convince him dat it's for his own good..." The teenager shook his head, blowing out another stream of smoke. "Ah, well, as long as he don't get knocked off, I won' have to go get my iron, so s'all good. But then, Mama Yuuko would bust my head if I got in a fight when not protectin' him...you know how it is."

Vash listened to all of this with a blink and was a little disturbed by the fact that he was able to understand it.

"And how," Vash replied with a hint of amusement. "You get enough time to hit the juice joints for yourself? You've gotta let George do it once in a while."

Another smirk curled the side of Doumeki's mouth. "Youse think I could go anywhere other den da Cat's Pajamas and still have a job makin' mazuma when I get back? Naw, Mama Yuuko don' like the encroachin' on her territory, and she specially don like her bartenders going ta diff'rent joints."

He took another drag off the cigarette before blowing the smoke out idily, raising an eyebrow at Vash. "So I heard dere's a bit of a bloodbath tanight between da bohunks tanight. Youse here anyt'ing about it?"

"You know all that talk gives me the heebie-jeebies," Vash said with a small frown. "Buncha hard-boiled saps who end up takin' everyone down with them in the end."

Vash really hoped midnight would hit before there was any bloodshed... Curse or no curse; City or no City, he didn't like it when people hurt one another.

"I didn't come here to beat my gums over those bimbos. I only came by to look in on things. And to get an edge."

Doumeki chuckled, low. "An edge, I can get ya." He took another drag off his cigarette. "Buttons (http://anti-buttons.livejournal.com) is supposed ta come over later...if he don' try and skiv me out of dat drink he owes me." The teen looked like a mixture of amused and disgruntled.

Vash was beginning to wonder how many nicknames Doumeki had tagged people with.

"Just an edge for now, Joe," Vash said, finishing his drink and setting the glass on the bar. "I can't get splifficated tonight. I've got someone waiting for me with aspirations of petting and all that jazz. I really should ankle on home."

Millions. No, seriously. If he had come in contact with Autor, he probably would've been "Ivories" for his piano abilities. And Rosette would've probably been "Sunflower". It was a shame he hadn't met up with them today.

But instead he only raised an eyebrow. "Well if youse got dat at home, den what da hell are ya doin' here?" he asked.

"I have to get out sometime," Vash said brightly. "How else am I gonna get to see you birds? My baby's patient."

Though actually... His "baby" really wasn't all that patient and Vash had a feeling he was due back already.

"Thanks for the drink," he said, waving as he turned to leave. "I'll catch up with you later, huh? Have a good night!"

Doumeki lifted a hand in farewell. "See ya, Stampede."

Log; Ongoing

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