Open Log: Tambour Amoureux: Friday

[neverendingbeat.livejournal.com]

When; Friday, February 5
Rating; Pffff it's a brothel, idek. 'May get porny' What sort of rating is that?
Characters; The Master, ANY NUMBER OF EMPLOYEES, CUSTOMERS, ETC.
Summary; It's the Belle Epoque. The Master has a brothel cos he can.
Log; In the red light district, there are any number of bordeaux, catering to a vast array of clients. Tambour Amoureux, however, has a certain...something to it. The owner, a Monsieur Harold Saxon, has made sure of this. He may be a British import but his attention to style, to the quality of entertainment, to the health and well-being of his girls, is still impeccable, to say the least.

From the outside, it's not necessarily instantly obvious what sort of establishment it is. There is lighting, and a certain welcoming atmosphere, and the name on a large sign at the front but it really could be any number of cabarets. Of course, the connoisseur of such places would easily recognise the name.

Inside, there is a stage, for performances, as well as tables and chairs and several couches as well at certain points to the side. The room has a rich mahogany and deep red colour scheme. There is a staircase, more discreet, off to the side, leading to the upstairs, where there is a hallway, with lighting more dim than the lower levels; various doors leading into any number of bedrooms.

Most discreet of all, and a place that requires either longer patronage, or association with someone who knows the secret is a backroom, lavishly furnished with couches and carpets and drapery. Here, one may purchase opium, or bring one's own and relax in a comfortable surrounding.



[ooc:....okay, you guys, this is me trying my hardest. It's a curse so...accuracy...whatever, yeah? Also, apparently, waiting until the morning to post is TOO MUCH. I was going for....a bit more brothel-y than Moulin Rouge, you know, cos the brothel is the focus, rather than the cabaret. FOR CRYING OUT LOUD, PLEASE INVENT THINGS. I kind of...bare-bones'd it so I'll be stalking over everyone's posts and if you add in a piece of scenery or a specific thing to the maison then I'll add it into the description.

Also, it's never too late to join the Master's....team. Just go to the post linked in the Character's section. Message me or something if you want to talk out stuff or ask questions or suggest things or whatever. Or work out character connections to the Master because I totally didn't do that at all... Also, I've got the log labelled as 'Friday' right now for...less confusion. I'm going to do a 'Saturday' post as well, making any amendments if some sort of plot happens today. Or anything. Again, if you think I should change this, tell me. I just....wanted it to be organised.

Oh, right, and the Master is Monsieur Saxon to everyone except his girls, to whom he is 'Maître' because he CAN BE. (Oh, Priestly, you can still call him 'Monsieur le Maître' only that's kind of 'Mister Master' which is acceptable silliness from Priestly but maybe not so much EVERYONE.)]

Comments

[casserlacerise.livejournal.com]

He watches her motions, unable even if he wanted to miss any moment of it. Priestly licks the corner of his mouth before straightening again and tugging at his collar. The smirk creeps onto his face again and he takes a step toward her.

"Decorum is for they who wish to hide from the truth. I quite enjoy bringing it out into the open." His voice is hushed, only for her ears. Priestly's hand raises to brush across her cheek, though he knows she won't allow it.

[only-fell.livejournal.com]

"You would feel otherwise if you stopped to consider how it would ruin your career," she tells him in the same hushed tones. He reaches out to brush across her cheek and turns her face. A few stray tendrils of hair might brush his hand but he won't be allowed to touch her skin. Not here.

[casserlacerise.livejournal.com]

Priestly moves his hand away from her as though it burned and the smile wipes from his face. His career was already long gone, sucked into this place and tucked away just out of his reach, forever. Hers, however; that is a different story entirely.

"Of course. I should be going anyway. I believe I have a pair of young ladies to entertain." He doesn't walk away, though. Once he catches her eye, he keeps it. She'll have to be the one to end the meeting, as her role in their odd little relationship defines.

[only-fell.livejournal.com]

That wasn't really what she meant although it is part and parcel in the consideration. It takes every bit of willpower she has not to explain herself. That is hardly a conversation for this setting though. Instead she lets her guard down the slightest bit, just enough for Priestly to see and offers a gesture that is acceptable. She straighten the lapels of his jacket then brushes her hands over his shirt in a move meant to smooth it. Her next words are just a whisper but she knows he is listening closely enough to catch them.

"Clear your schedule for late tonight. I plan on turning in early."

And then louder.

"And next time, at least iron your shirt."

[casserlacerise.livejournal.com]

Ah, but Priestly is aware that much of what Inara says is not her true intent. Were he to take it as such, his approach to her would be much different. He chews at his lip nervously as she brushes him off and holds back his instinct to grab her wrists and pull her close.

"Yes Madame," he simply replies, not smiling so much with his lips, but his eyes. The night will drag on for him until that time that he may meet her.

[only-fell.livejournal.com]

The smile in his eyes paired with the nervous biting of his lip makes Inara bite the inside of her cheek in an effort to curb the smile she wants to return. She arches an eyebrow at him, manages to look down her nose at him despite the fact that he is taller than him then turns coolly on her heel, Ice Queen personified as she walks away.

Throughout the night she will periodically be convinced the clock has stopped entirely.