Al Capone (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
makingastatement) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
tampered2013-07-04 11:00 am
makingastatement) wrote in tampered2013-07-04 11:00 am
Entry tags:
[OPEN LOG] A LITTLE PARTY NEVER KILLED NOBODY
When; July 4th after this
Rating; Links are NSFW due to language and sexy hooker flashmobs. Other than language, situations shouldn't get above PG-13.
Characters; It's a party-- come one, come all!
Summary; Surprise birthday party for Meyer Lansky. Everyone is welcome!
Log;
Lucky's casino is busy as usual on Thursday, but those inside will notice that the stage normally reserved for entertainment is shrouded in a large curtain. The owner is seated, prepared to listen to the audition of a buxom blond who seems shy and has no real command over the stage. After a deep breath, she begins to sing in a voice barely above a whisper:
"Happy birthday to you~"
Before she can really get into the meat of the song, the curtain rises to reveal an unusual spectacle. Women of all sizes and shapes dressed comfortably in next to nothing. Those inside the casino can see them make a musical entrance. They seem to dote especially on the owner, who appears to be hoisted in his seat by two beefy men in shiny speedos. They carry him closer to what appears to be a cake.
It's not.
The exterior slips away revealing a mounted pole and another woman who has no problem steadying her stilettos on the arms of the chair the owner is being held captive in from time to time.
Looks like it's SOMEONE'S BIRTHDAY
All varieties of business continue as usual after the reveal. The women and men will flirt with anyone who has the means to earn their attention. There's even a new racehorse to the circuit being promoted out back! Come evening, patriotic Americans launch fireworks into the night sky. So come! There's good company, gambling, drinks and dancing-- eat, drink and be merry in honor of the holiday and Meyer Lansky's birthday!
Rating; Links are NSFW due to language and sexy hooker flashmobs. Other than language, situations shouldn't get above PG-13.
Characters; It's a party-- come one, come all!
Summary; Surprise birthday party for Meyer Lansky. Everyone is welcome!
Log;
Lucky's casino is busy as usual on Thursday, but those inside will notice that the stage normally reserved for entertainment is shrouded in a large curtain. The owner is seated, prepared to listen to the audition of a buxom blond who seems shy and has no real command over the stage. After a deep breath, she begins to sing in a voice barely above a whisper:
"Happy birthday to you~"
Before she can really get into the meat of the song, the curtain rises to reveal an unusual spectacle. Women of all sizes and shapes dressed comfortably in next to nothing. Those inside the casino can see them make a musical entrance. They seem to dote especially on the owner, who appears to be hoisted in his seat by two beefy men in shiny speedos. They carry him closer to what appears to be a cake.
It's not.
The exterior slips away revealing a mounted pole and another woman who has no problem steadying her stilettos on the arms of the chair the owner is being held captive in from time to time.
Looks like it's SOMEONE'S BIRTHDAY
All varieties of business continue as usual after the reveal. The women and men will flirt with anyone who has the means to earn their attention. There's even a new racehorse to the circuit being promoted out back! Come evening, patriotic Americans launch fireworks into the night sky. So come! There's good company, gambling, drinks and dancing-- eat, drink and be merry in honor of the holiday and Meyer Lansky's birthday!
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"It'll hit you in about... ten seconds."
He might be exaggerating about that, but it usually doesn't take long. That completely relaxed look on his face is probably much more understandable now.
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"I don't feel nothin'," he announces with a comfortable aura of pride.
"At least no better than usual."
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He hadn't meant Al to take the ten seconds thing so literally. Had he really just counted? He'd laugh, if he didn't think Al would probably take offense to that.
He's also pretty sure that Al won't be asserting that he feels nothing within the next couple minutes. Sure, there's always the possibility that Al's immune to the stuff, but thus far, he's never met anyone who is.
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Regardless of whether or not the stuff kicks in (really it's more of a question of whether he acknowledges it or not), it's nice to appreciate a moment of peace amidst everything going on. He's not fond of time alone in his own mind, but this...this is alright.
"You though? Something's definitely lightening you up, and I don't think it's just this."
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It's powerful enough to lighten him up, at the very least. Maybe he can say that because it's not the first of it he's done tonight, and it probably won't be the last, either. He studies Al thoughtfully for a second, frowning, though not with irritation, just with concentration. "Am I not supposed to be lightened up once in awhile?"
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Al shakes his head, holding up a finger to signify putting the brakes on that train of thought.
"You should be. That's what this is all about. You act like an old man all the time? You'll die like one. All I'm saying is I think you're cutting a little loose tonight. It's good."
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That's probably not as deep of a revelation as it feels like, at the moment -- that's got to be the drugs talking, making everything seem more significant than it is -- but it's still divulging something about himself. He's not the type to talk about himself much; everything's usually all business, and if it's not, it's a waste of time.
"Y'know, I've cut loose before. It's not like this is an isolated event."
Maybe.
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Instead Al listens quietly until the last statement proceeds to cause him to laugh openly and quite loudly.
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"What, you don't believe it?"
The question would be indignant if he weren't so damn relaxed. He just can't get up the energy to make it sound that way.
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"Just hard to imagine is all. Even if you were lying, I don't think I could tell."
That poker face: a serious skill and also problematic.
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Although by most people's standards, this probably isn't really 'letting loose' so much as sitting in the corner at the bar with a bag of drugs and a coworker -- it certainly doesn't involve any wild dancing or raucous yelling, which is probably for the best. He reaches for the half-empty drink sitting next to him on the bar and takes a sip; he's not actually sure if it's his, but it tastes like alcohol, anyway, so he might as well drink it.
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"Yeah. While this is here is a real blast and a half, without your little bag of tricks there we might be in trouble."
Not that he really matters-- to Meyer's credit, he hasn't taken off running yet and has generally been a good sport. He furrows his brow suddenly, thoughtful.
"How old are you anyway?"
A minor detail that may have gotten lost in all the planning.
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Younger than Al, he's pretty sure. Younger than most people he knows or works with, and yet, he often feels older. It's strange to think about -- he'd arrived in the City initially as an eighteen year old, gone home for three years, and come back to the City only two City days later but suddenly twenty one. Age gets a little confusing around here. All he knows for sure is that today is, theoretically, his twenty second birthday.
"Why?"
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"Just askin'. People do that when they're making conversation."
The sarcasm is noticeably absent from his tone, instead casual and intent on informing the other man of an important fact.
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There's not sarcasm in his tone so much as a relaxed amusement, which is uncharacteristic but not necessarily unpleasant. He takes a moment to study Al curiously, mostly trying to determine whether the drugs are having any noticeable effect on him. It's hard to tell, maybe because his own perceptions are decidedly altered by this point.
"How do you feel?"
In other words, are you incredibly high yet? If not, that should probably be resolved quickly.
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Momentarily he checks out of the conversation to wave the waiter down and order a drink. The waiter scurries off soon after the order is complete knowing his priorities and the drink is better to come sooner than later. Then, without any preface or permission, Al helps himself to another small sample from the bag.
"Alright," he replies after a satisfied sniff, not really to any question in particular but by the sound of his inflection they might as well have been shooting the breeze for hours about something.
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He's certainly feeling something himself, but then, he's had both more drugs and more time to let them hit him. Maybe Al just has an incredibly high tolerance. He finishes the drink that had been sitting there on the bar, vaguely wondering what was in it.
"Alright. How old're you?"
It's going back to the previous part of the conversation, but that's how his brain's working right now, and he's genuinely curious. He'd guess that Al's somewhere around Charlie's age, but it's hard to tell.
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"Twenty four. 'Least I was when I left."
Best to keep things simple and not worry about technicalities.
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That's a tone of deep skepticism, but he's not going to argue. He's not in Al's head, thankfully, and he has no idea just how altered it is.
"I know I'm gonna regret asking this, but how long did you and Theo spend planning this?" He gestures around to the room, shaking his head. It's elaborate and impressive, he'll give it that. It had probably cost a fair bit, too, but since Theo had assured him they hadn't used casino money for it, he won't be bothered by that.
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The waiter returns with a tray loaded with orders from the floor. As he leans in to deposit the single glass down, Al catches him mid-reach and instead takes the tray itself and sets it down on the counter in addition to the single glass he ordered.
"That's great, thanks."
Once again knowing when to cut his losses, the waiter scoots.
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And now he knows. The setup had likely taken quite awhile. It's almost flattering, really, that they'd put this much work into it, but he's pretty sure that's definitely the drugs talking. He shouldn't be flattered. He should still be irritated. Irritation takes a lot of work, too, though, and he's not up to it.
He raises an eyebrow at the entire tray full of drinks, but he's not above taking one for himself and raising it in a mock toast.
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Flattery and compliments are not his intention nor would it be well-received. There are some things in this life that you just accept when they're thrown at you and this is one of them. Al is all shock value and being noticed, if nothing else than to say he can take advantage of the moment.
"Salute," embracing the mock toast, he helps himself to his original drink, or at least whatever he finds first.
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"There's glitter in my drink," he proclaims, sounding somewhere between baffled and amused. He moves to set the drink back down, maybe to grab a different, less glittery one off of the tray, and sways unsteadily on his stool, nearly falling.
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"Oh," the concern in his voice is emphasized and soon neatly undercut by a chuckle.
"Easy, tiger. Where's glitter? I don't see any glitter."
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Pointing to the glass vaguely, he shrugs. "There's glitter everywhere. There's probably glitter in your drink, too."
There's even glitter in Al's hair, but maybe he shouldn't point that out.
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