Open Log: Tambour Amoureux: Saturday

[neverendingbeat.livejournal.com]

When; Saturday, February 6
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. Day Two, for action happening today. [Previous day] Note: There are a few girls making a break for it today, so perhaps the previous day's log is better for any potential carousers? Whatever you so choose.
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.

Additionally, there is a balcony up some back stairs, for employees, and whomever they might choose to bring there.

In a more private section, off-limits to the clientèle are the private offices of those warranting one. Monsieur Saxon's in particular is two rooms. The larger one contains a desk and couch, along with double doors to a private balcony. The smaller one contains a bed and not too much else. It's not his home, of course, that's elsewhere, but Monsieur Saxon does prefer to know exactly what's been in the bed he uses. Or might use. If he chooses to. A curtain is pulled across the archway between the rooms.



[ooc: 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...
Don't ask me why I know so much about the Master's office, now. I don't know. It kinda just happened.

The Master is Monsieur Saxon to everyone except his girls, to whom he is 'Maître' because he CAN BE.

Also, anyone feel like running away/being signed up? Aion could do with some girls to hunt down, y'know.

Alsoalso, sorry for repetitiveness. Some things just don't NEED to change, y'know? I'm just making certain you don't get shoehorned into one day.]

Comments

Monsieur Harold Saxon [Maître]

[neverendingbeat.livejournal.com]

He is a constant presence in the maison close. He might be sitting at his favoured table--off to the side but close to the stage--he could be wandering through the room. He might be watching from anywhere, really, and it's his right as the owner of Tambour Amoureux.

Harold Saxon speaks French impeccably, with only a slight British accent and sometimes, not even that, as if he's forgotten his own accent, which is, of course, ridiculous. He is always well-dressed and fashionable, and quick to smile. However, he is equally quick to anger, if you disobey the common courtesies that are the rules of the bordello. Despite his business, he is rather well-respected in society.

Today he is feeling a little bit less cordial and a little more...himself, really. So perhaps it would be best not to get on his bad side, not in this mood. He is liable to be stricter than usual. Or crueler.

[ooc: A post for if you'd like to interact with the Master. He could be any of those places or anywhere else. Feel completely free to godmod a little and invent where he is, where you'd like to talk to him.]

Monsieur Harold Saxon [Maître]

[jiyuna_togabito]

Down the stairs he came to head towards the back when he sees the Maître sitting by the stage- The expression on his face gave Aion the impression that he wasn't in any good mood tonight. He slyly slipped past the crowd, swiftly taking a seat beside him as he folded his hands and kept his eyes on the stage. A slightly amused smile across his lips.

"You seem rather discontent tonight. Something the matter?"

[neverendingbeat.livejournal.com]

"Mm?" said the Master. "It's only a mood, Aion. Though there is something about today..." He shrugged, sipping at his first glass of absinthe of the night. "It's been so quiet lately that it's boring."

Alice

[harassmentgirl.livejournal.com]

There are a few more customers than yesterday evening in the bordello so Alice takes to dancing on the stage while they look for someone to court. Her dress (http://www.noahsarkfancydress.co.uk/ekmps/shops/sharonbaxter/images/3468.jpg) has much less frill today, which means less flipping of skirts to reveal what's hidden and more...flaunting it, with rather erotic moves. The entire bordello could sense Maître's unpleasant (or perhaps regular?) mood and all are aiming to make him especially happy today.

As such, she catches his eye while twirling upon the stage, and sends a wink with a playful kiss while continuing the routine. She isn't sure whether or not he will even notice her, but she is satisfied with the mere attempt. Twist after twist, hand sliding body part over body part, and with several seductive glances to the crowd, Alice dances with enthusiasm and vigor, an odd happiness radiating from her entire being. Perhaps today is just a good day?

[neverendingbeat.livejournal.com]

Of course, the Master does notice and he's darkly pleased at the deference to himself. Leaning slightly back in his chair, a glass of clouded, simply-prepared absinthe in his hand, his attention is drawn just a bit more to the show, rather than his partial attention before. He still manages to keep an eye on the room, but Alice is very diverting. A little bit girlish, perhaps, but her enthusiasm, and the way she's learned to move... Perhaps he'll be a little bit...unconventional with her French lessons.

[notaleftover.livejournal.com]

Nanako was the only woman in the crowd of onlookers watching the younger girl dance, but she didn't seem to mind too much. Last night's conversation had piqued some curiosity in her about the girl, and about this place, and since she had a few hours to kill before her show tonight and some money for drinks she thought, hey, why not?

She didn't want to interrupt at all, though - they were still nearly perfect strangers and Alice did indeed look happy up there.

[horrible-penny.livejournal.com]

Penny tries not to pay too much attention to Alice. She's unusually enthusiastic tonight, and her costume--while entirely appropriate, given their occupation--is rather risque. It's difficult to remember to flirt with potential customers while trying to figure out what precisely is wrong with tonight.

She waves to Alice. Maybe she can talk to her during a break.

late afternoon - getting into trouble, open to all

[i-themagician.livejournal.com]

Clow had only been to the Tambour Amoreux once before, and that was when he had first come to Paris. He had mistaken it for just another cabaret and had only stayed long enough to realize that it was not his kind of establishment. Back then he was just an unknown foreign face among a crowd of revelers, but now he was the chef and proprietor of a certain well-known upscale restaurant in the fashion district. That didn't make him a gentleman or someone famous by any means, but it did mean that someone might recognize him here regardless of whether he acted at all suspicious.

He entered and let his eyes roam around the front room, looking for something specific - and it wasn't any of the ladies. It was early yet, there was a small crowd of the young and well to-do or the older and more brazen. He watched them for a few moments, but did not find what he was looking for and moved on, slinking among the furniture and trying to be subtle. Yuuko made no secret that she came to this place to smoke opium on Saturday afternoons, which was the only reason Clow knew there was an opium den here, but he never thought to ask exactly where it was located. Just walking up to the proprietor and asking directions was of course out of the question, as this wasn't the sort of thing you simply asked. He'd have to find out for himself.

The only evidence of the accident earlier that afternoon was the fact that his hair was still just slightly damp. Otherwise, having changed clothes, there was nothing out of the ordinary about him save for the man himself as he headed towards what he thought was a promising door in the back of the room. He had of course noticed Monsieur Saxon sitting nearby and probably keeping an eye on things, but perhaps if he just acted like he knew what he was doing le Maître would be none the wiser.

[neverendingbeat.livejournal.com]

Right. The Master had heightened senses, thanks to his species, not to mention that he knew all the regulars. And this new man was not one, as evidenced by his steady path toward the back rooms, and the fact that he was essentially sneaking. The Master stood, and walked to catch up with the man, tapping him on his shoulder.

"Is there anything I can do for you, Monsieur?" Slightly exaggerated, perhaps, but he wasn't certain yet whether he should be cross or not.

Rain

[livingmyths.livejournal.com]

There's a bruise on Rain's face today from where an overeager client slapped her for crying, though she knew he truly did it because he wanted her to cry more. She'd tried, with only small success, to cover it with make-up, but since she normally went without - the clients were looking for fresh-faced, frightened innocence after all - she had little skill with it.

The pretty bead was clasped almost tightly enough in her hand to bruise it in an effort to keep her fear in check and she sang a quiet pretty lullaby that she remembered her mama singing to her when she was a very tiny girl. It wasn't much, but it was all Rain had against the darkness right now.

[neverendingbeat.livejournal.com]

"You didn't tell me," the Master says, his jaw set, his voice low, coming up behind Rain to hold her by her upper arms. He's been examining her face across the room for a while now and he's not very pleased at the conclusion he's come to. His grip is angry, and thus, overly tight. "You just don't absorb lessons, do you, Rain? What did I tell you to do when a customer knocks you about?" Not that he isn't being a bit abusive himself right now, of course, but he's the owner, it's his right, she needs to be taught a lesson. But that doesn't mean that he will tolerate others taking such liberties.

[horrible-penny.livejournal.com]

Penny, while oblivious to many things, notices Rain's bruise as well as Maître's anger. She had wanted to intervene, but Maître has done so much for her--for the entire world, really, and surely he was only doing what was best...

She watches until their employer leaves to take care of other business and then slips over to Rain. Perhaps the stealth is unwarranted, but tonight... there's something very strange about tonight. If she were a fan of metaphors, she might compare the overall feel to that of an impending storm. Penny sits near Rain. "...I heard you singing."

[old-lady-sukima.livejournal.com]

It had to be during a lull. In truth, she had been waiting at the door for about ten minutes, waiting for the dances to die down, for the ruckus to abate to a pattering hubbub, or something like that, to enter. A woman as important as her, of course, she had to make a grand entrance! People were expecting. She had even selected an elegant violet dress for the occasion; she'd be damned if anyone could get her peasant-like bonnet off her head, but the rest of the ensemble, long-sleeved lacey gloves and all was pristine.

Anyway, back to the lull. After silence had settled, following a small whisper of applause and the murmuring commentary of sweaty elder gentlemen, Yukari threw open the doors with a loud, grand motion. She pulled her shoulders back, her hands clasped all ladylike at her hips, holding a fan. She beamed across the brothel, like the great Lady she was, casting discourteous, superior glances at all the girls, before descending and wafting as gently as she could towards the back of the room, towards the richly carpeted opium den.

"Monsieur Saxon! Where is Monsieur Saxon!" she called in a melodious voice, that might be better suited to an immense mezzo-soprano. She whipped her fan in front of her face, a bit ridiculously, and wiggled it in a stupid, rapidly twitchy motion. She really had no idea whatsoever what she was doing. "Ah, il n'est jamais ici quand j'arrivais." She grabbed a man behind her, spinning him around and addressing him with an uncomfortably sarcastic grin. "Est-ce que tu penses qu'il y a de fortes chances que Monsieur Saxon s'éviter-moi?" After a moment... "Ne repondez-la pas." She probably knew the answer, anyway. Not that it bothered her, or anything.

[only-fell.livejournal.com]

Of course Inara heard the woman's demands and she knew she needed to head it off as quickly as possible. She approached the woman with a bright smile.

"Madame Yukari, Lǎo péngyǒu, nǐ kànqǐlái hěnyǒu jīngshén. It is such a pleasure to see you again," Inara said as she placed a hand on the woman's arm and leaned in to air kiss her cheek. "Now how may I help you?"

**Mandarin for 'Old Friend, you look very well'. Inara does still pepper her speech with the language

Inara Serra

[only-fell.livejournal.com]

Saturday has a bit of a different feel to it. The Master's mood is contagious and Inara isn't immune to it. She might seem a bit untouchable tonight, a bit more distant and a little colder. Of course it could have to do with the gown (http://www.bridalwave.tv/LuxTenebrae.jpg) she is wearing. It leaves more of her skin bare and the ice white adds to the cold, untouchable feel. She carries an ornately painted, silk fan in one hand.

Her behavior remains the same. She makes the rounds, stopping at each customer to flirt with them, make certain they've got everything they need for a wonderful night. She also checks on the girls, ascertaining that they've everything they need to do their jobs.

[ooc: Feel free to god mod where Inara is in the room. Stop by and say hello. She'll be pleased to speak to you]

[jiyuna_togabito]

Ah, more lively than the night before. A little advertisement and persuasion truly was well worth it for he sees precisely those customers attending today. It brought a pleased grin to his face. It was a shame he had missed most of the excitement due to rounding the sheep, so to speak. Though, really, Aion wasn't one to stand out much nor was he meant to. Only those with keen eyes could see a glimpse of him from the dark balcony off to the side of the stage peering down to make sure everyone was accounted for.

He had quite a job for himself, making sure NO one left without proper permission from the Monsieur, himself. The rumors that had spread amongst the ladies were indeed true. He was one hell of a devil working in the shadows to make sure things ran smoothly for the owner. If Saxon, Madame, and Seifer were the main eyes of the inside, he had them on the out, having his Eagle patrol the premises.

[ooc: ajskds thank you so much for thinking of running away and the master for mentioning it! =; ;=! Please feel free to come up with some history with Aion too and I'll add to it!]

Faith Lehane

[gartersbreak.livejournal.com]

Whether it's her own mood or the Maître's, leaking over to the staff and setting them all at unease, Faith is less pliant tonight. Restless. The indolent, almost careless danger of the night before is sharper, more dangerous; it's barely dark and already more than one of the other girls has tasted the sharp side of her tongue. The mood seems to excite a few of her more adventurous clients, however, and the early evening has been more profitable than usual for it.

She's not lounging, tonight; instead she's half hidden in an alcove, tossing back a glass of the fairy and trying to retain the stillness Inara trained into her before huffing in frustration and spinning away, looking for another client to help ease this incessant need to move.

[horrible-penny.livejournal.com]

Penny, somewhat on edge thanks to the evening's tense atmosphere, quite literally runs into Faith as she leaves the alcove. The red-head is absolutely terrified of Faith, and not simply because the other woman looks capable of breaking Penny over her leg. There's something dangerous about her, and something (the unpleasant-sounding English words Faith had aimed at her earlier that night, for instance) made her suspect that she didn't care for her.

She apologies profusely in French. It doesn't occur to her to simply get out of Faith's way.

[valentineluke.livejournal.com]

Tall, blond man clad in white enters Tambour Amoreux via its front entrance. Pausing in the lobby, he reaches into his overcoat's left pocket, pulling out a small stack of papers - distiller contracts from yesterday's meeting. Quick flip-thru to be sure everything is in order and he continues on into the main room.

Nothing slows his pace. Silent nod here and there suffice for greeting as he crosses the room and heads straight for the back office. Previous day's long negotiations have left Luke Valentine wanting to spend an hour alone, quietly unwinding with a glass or two of scotch, before rejoining Monsieur Saxon to discuss yesterday's end results.

[favoritetraitor.livejournal.com]

Pulling a pocket watch out of his pocket, Solomon Goldsmith glanced at it before turning his gaze back outside as if waiting for something or someone. He was late. Something that was almost unheard of by normal standards...

So many things could have gone wrong. It was the nature of the beast when dealing in drug running. But this particular shipment was important, especially since it was for Monsieur Saxon.

Emptying his glass of the vibrant green elixer, he frowned, worry starting to creep into his normally sedate demeanor.

[ooc: open to all, (a man like him alone in a place like this... a travesty I say!) and feel free to place Solomon either at a bar, couch, or table... wherever is convenient. Solomon has been waiting for about 45 minutes for his Lieutenant (Xemnas) to show up with a valuable supply of rare opium.]

[letxequalnull.livejournal.com]

So many, many things, and while it hadn't been Xemnas' intent to be late, something had happened to take matters firmly out of his hands. Fortunately, the problem hadn't been one that had been terribly difficult to deal with. One more person might have been wishing he hadn't chosen that time to leave the metaphoric fold, but that was hardly Xemnas' concern. It had been dealt with to his satisfaction, and there was no more sense wasting any more time. He was late enough as it was.

By the time he arrives, he's cleaned up all traces of having had to deal with with the situation that had come up and looks as he always does. He doesn't even look terribly annoyed (he took that on the poor unfortunate) as he heads over to where Solomon is waiting.

"My apologies for making you wait," he begins as he draws near. "A... situation came up, and I had to find a replacement on short order."

And indeed, if one looks closely there's a newcomer in the small collection of hand-picked individuals that have come with him today - a rather imposing man, with short brown hair.

This is a distraction!

[horrible-penny.livejournal.com]

Penny, unlike many young ladies, has never fancied being an actress. Tonight, however, necessity calls for drama. There isn't a stage, but there is a need and an audience as well as a noble cause. That cause is freedom. Not Penny's freedom; as far as she's concerned, she's as free at Tambour Amoureux as she has ever been. It's not a street and it's not a workhouse, but it has become a prison for her sisters-in-arms.

Metaphorical arms, of course. Maître, as far as she knew, didn't encourage his girls to carry weapons.

The petite redhead meandered into the most crowded part of the lobby, "je suis désolé"-ing her way past customers and other workers and trying not to act like a woman on a mission. Alice and Rain were counting on her to play this small part and to play it well.

Penny takes a breath and lets out the loudest, most blood-curdling shriek she can manage; it's a small wonder that no glasses shatter. She doubles over dramatically, clutching her gut and falling into the nearest body, mustering a look of agony. "I've been stabbed!" she wails, collapsing to the ground and curling up on herself. "That man has a knife!"

Unfortunately, she's far too busy holding the intestines she imagine would spill out of a stabbed person in their proper positions to gesture towards the pretend culprit. For good measure--someone might not have heard her--she throws in a piercing, pained scream.

Maître is not going to be pleased.

[favoritetraitor.livejournal.com]

It was a struggle to make his way through the confusion created by the girl's scream. Some raced for the door, afraid of being caught up in some scandalous crime scene and having their reputations tarnished. Others stood in shocked dismay hovering around the girl's prone body on the floor or shouting that the attacker was still at bay.

Pushing past everyone, Solomon made his way to drop down beside the 'victim', determined to try to save the girl. It was his job after all... well, one of his jobs. "Mam'selle! Penny...! Please try to remain..." He blinked, noticing for the first time a distinct lack of blood. "... calm."

Solomon's voice softened, unsure of just what was going on... "Please, show me the wound. Let me help you."

This is the chase thread!

[harassmentgirl.livejournal.com]

Alice's heart is racing, and she isn't even sure where she is supposed to find Rain or if Penny will be able to make an adequate enough distraction. But the show must go on. She grabs a small bag she hid underneath the stage, filled with a few outfits and the money she saved up. It is then that she hears an unnerving howl of pain from across the room. Damn, Penny is good.

As people suddenly start running in every which direction, some towards the scream, some as far away from it, and some for the door, Alice follows the latter group and makes her way to the outside. In the same manner as Rain, Alice is temporarily distracted by the sheer beauty of the night sky, but knows they didn't have time to dawdle.

She runs up to the other girl and gently takes her hand, so as not to frighten her. With a sweet smile, she speaks softly but hurriedly, "Okay, Rain, let's go."

Re: This is the chase thread!

[livingmyths.livejournal.com]

"Go?" Rain looked up at her curiously. "Go where? Penny said I just had to find you and then we'd win the game."

She looked uneasily back towards the house, wondering if she should go see what all the noise is about. "I think we should go in. Maitre and Madame will be mad."