2007-05-13: Happy Birthday to... Someone


Bekah_icon.gif Daphne_icon.gif Desmond_icon.gif Mara_icon.gif Zac_icon.gif Gwen_icon.gif

Summary: Somebody is having a birthday party at the Fly By Night. It is none of the people in this scene. Two strangers manage to make a party out of it anyway.

Date It Happened: May 13, 2007

Happy Birthday to… Someone

Fly By Night Cocktail Bar

When the sun goes down, the barflies start to crawl out of the metaphorical woodwork. On this particular Tuesday evening, the Fly By Night cocktail bar is a happening place. Some sort of nondescript celebration is happening — it would appear to be some sort of birthday party — and so the crowd is thicker than usual. On the second story, Desmond Cusick has found himself caught up in a conversation with a small knot of people. Holding a martini in one hand, dressed in a sharp and expensive black suit with a silver-gray tie, he chatters quietly, grinning easily. The charm is thick on him tonight.

Bekah is actually wearing a skirt instead of jeans or scrubs. The world may end. More than just a skirt, it's a little black dress. Simple and classic, but it fits her too well to be from Target or the like. She's talking to another woman up on the second floor laughing merrily. Anyone nearby might hear that it's some story about a dorm in high school. A cocktail is in her hand, fitting for the bar as she actually socializes without being too snarky. Yet at least.

Zac is part of the crowd here, but a party of one. He manages to make his way to the bar and order a scotch on the rocks. Getting his drink, he fights the overcrowded first floor and makes his way to floor number two. Ahh, much better. "To peace!" he thinks to himself and sips his scotch.

Mara Damaris quickly discoved that it isn't easy to weave her way through a crowd while relying on a cane. For the moment, stairs are out of the question. She's settled on a seat at the bar on the lower level for the time being. A tall gin and tonic with two limes is set in front of her. From her pocket, she procures a small bottle of pills, shakes two out into her hand and washes them down with her drink before tucking the bottle away again. Keen hazel eyes flit about her surroundings. She's slowly coming to the conclusion that she can't shut off her instincts and that she's never going to stop taking notes on things around her. A strand of blonde hair is tucked behind one ear and she eyes the stairs again. It wouldn't be /impossible/. It'd just take a little effort to keep people out of her way while she makes her slow climb.

Despite a day at the zoo, Daphne doesn't smell like animals, because she actually went home and changed first. Laurel would be so proud. Granted, she's not wearing clothes that are quite as nice as everyone else's, because they're uncomfortable, but at least she's wearing a nice shirt and slacks. Black slacks - standard, go with everything. It means she doesn't have to coordinate everything she owns. And, of course, tennis shoes. In any case, she's not completely anti-social, and didn't feel like sticking around at home with the animals all vying for her attention, so she's here at the bar. One particular tagalong hid herself inside Daphne's hooded shirt, however, unbeknownst to the zookeeper until it was just /too late/ to turn back home… Heading to the bar, she orders something easy (and girly) drink, ending up somewhere near Mara as a very tiny little parrotlet pokes its head out of the folds of fabric around her hair.

Dressed to match her surroundings, Gwen has, instead of her standard martini, a cosmopolitan in her hand. Not by her own choice, of course. But, when someone else pays for the drinks they get strange ideas about what she should like instead of what she does like. However, booze is booze and she's not going to turn down a pink drink. Sipping generously, she is doing her best to not look bored at this Stock Analyst who has started to run at the mouth at chance to talk to her more than 'can I buy you a drink?'. It is /very/ hard to do, but somehow she manages to do it. However, she can't help but insert a comment. "Wow, really? I didn't realize that reading numbers all day could be at all construed as interesting!" She sounds amazed, not quite snarky, and then she buries her face back into her drink. To endure this, she's going to have to get a lot drunker a lot quicker.

During a brief lull in conversation, Desmond glances around at his surroundings and happens to spot a familiar face — a familiar face buried in a Cosmopolitan while a stock analyst talks off her ears, no less. His eyes linger there a moment, studying the situation surrounding that face, and then he looks to his current company and excuses himself with a smile and a tip of his head. As he moves toward Gwen, he brushes past Bekah and hesitates half a step to eye her appreciatively. Apparently the little black dress was a good choice. Still, he has a goal, and he sets off to accomplish it. Stepping up alongside Gwen, he offers her a smile. "Anna," is all he says in greeting.

Bekah gives Desmond a quick look over as the man walks by before she shakes her head at her companion. Her hair is actually not in a ponytail (tonight is definitely miracle time) so the curls swing free. "He did what after High School? Really?" Apparently it's a night to catch up for her. And whatever stories her old friend are telling, they seem to be much more interesting than the stock analyst's, if in just as much need of alcohol.

Zac drinks his scotch and looks around, walking through. Barring a place to sit, he's content to grab himself some wall. He's an avid people watcher.

Gathering her drink and just about to head for the stairs, Mara catches sight of something poking out of Daphne's hood. This causes the on-leave detective to stop and blink. Several times. What the… How do you approach someone about that? Excuse me, Miss. Did you know you have a… is that a parrot? It's IN YOUR SHIRT. No, best to just… pretend it's not there. So long as the buzzard doesn't try and fly about the bar, things should be all right. Mara flashes the zookeeper a smile and brings her drink to her lips.

The parrot will do exactly what Daphne asks her too, because she's /very well-behaved./ Which occasionally makes her wonder if people /know,/ but in this case, the little bright green bird doesn't seem as if it wants to do anything other than just sit there comfortably. No jumping around, no stern words or thoughts from the blue-eyed girl at the bar. Catching the smile, Daphne looks over to Mara, offering one of her own as a wine cooler is set down on the counter for her. /STRAWBERRY./ "She stowed away in my shirt as I was leaving," Daphne offers. And the little bird states - very seriously - "I have a problem. Problem. Problem."

Poor stock analyst. He has no idea what he's gotten himself into when he asked Gwen if she'd like a drink. Her comment rendered him speechless for a little while, which Gwen thanked God for, and then gaped like a fish. "Honey, if you're not going to be interesting, I'm gonna thank you for the drink and find someone who can handle a conversation." Desmond appearing by her shoulder doesn't phase her and she doesn't turn her head when someone says 'Anna' right next to her. She's waiting for Stock to reply and, well, she uses so many different names that it's not like she's going to remember them all. Finally, though, when Desmond doesn't keep moving, she turns with a somewhat exasperated look on her face. "I'm not Anna, buddy." She can't deal with two needy boys at the same time. And then she peers at Desmond. He looks familiar. And cute. "I'm sorry, I forget who I am sometimes. Anna, you said?"

Zac continues to lean against the wall, sipping is scotch and looking like a billioniare idustrialist come to life. He doesn't talk to anyone, no one talks to him, he just continues to people watch looking more shy than anything.

Bekah finishes off her drink and gives her friend a grin. "Why don't you go flirt with that guy over there you've had your eye on." She states with a look towards a blonde man over in another corner. "I'm going to go get another drink." And with that she takes off down the stairs. Apparently, she can even walk in heels, though they're not as good in her book as the worn tennis shoes she's usually in. Mara and Daphne get smiles from her as she approaches the bar before she does a doubletake. "Whoa. Bird."

Mara's dark brows disappear beneath her lighter bangs. Ooookay. The parrot speaks. Lovely. "Stowaway, huh? Well, you and your little friend there enjoy yourself." She slides off her seat and steadies herself quickly with her cane, with the intent of making her slow way toward the stairs. There was totally a good-looking man or two up on the second floor. It's time to get back in the game. Really. But then, suddenly, Bekah. Crap. "Yeah. Bird." She nods to the newcomer. Why does she look familiar? Huh.

"Mm, I have that problem sometimes when I wake up in the morning," Desmond responds with a grin, shooting a glance toward the stock analyst. Poor man. He's boring. "It is crowded here, but I was curious to see if you would like to dance?" In other words: the guy you're with is dull, do you need rescuing?

The little parrot seems to take offense to Bekah's comment, as it puffs up its feathers and offers a loud (for its size, which isn't really loud at all) "NO YOU" when she calls it a bird. Despite the fact that it /is/ a bird. And when people start walking away from Daphne, simply for the fact that there's a bird in her hood, the parrotlet adds "L-O-L" to the mix. Daphne doesn't understand. The bird's never been around a computer before. Really.

Unfortunately, Daphne doesn't have much of a reason to follow Mara, mostly because she doesn't /know/ the other woman. It seems that the little bird is taken with her, though. Or, at least doesn't want her to walk away. "Hay. HAY," the bird calls out. "Hay. I like. Your." Pause. It tilts its head. "Square. Nostrils."

Zac sips his scotch. He looks down. Oh crap. His glass is broken! All the scotch disappeared. When a waitress comes by he flags her down, "Yeah miss. My glass seems defective. It's lacking scotch - think you could help me out?" he turns on his smile and thanks her when she says she can. He runs a hand through his hair and looks around.

Message sent and received. A knight in shining armor! Or a suit. A nice suit. Well, Gwen is certainly happy about that. Hm. She should know him, shouldn't she? His name began with a D? Donald? She'll figure it out later. "I'd love to." Turning to Stock, she hands him her half finished drink. "Here. Hold this." It's most likely that she won't be back for it, though. In fact it's a certainty if Desmond offers her a martini.

Bekah gives Mara a curious look when she is nodded at. After a moment she notes, "You look kind of familiar." Probably like a thousand other people she sees each day. The bird then tells her off and she breaks out laughing. "Oh, really? Cause you kind of look like a bird." She notes with a very dry tone. Yes, she's talking to the bird.

Mara doesn't think she's quite far gone enough to converse with a bird, though it does get a strange look. The /owner/ gets a dirty look. Control that thing, would'ja? She takes another limping step toward the stairs. Bekah gets another smile and a curious look. Huh. Well, maybe she works at one of her favourite haunts or something. If she only knew…

Zac gets his refill of scotch and smiles brightly, "Thank you, luv." he says, no accent though. He runs a hand through his messy hair and looks around some more. "Interesting mix of people tonight. Stock Trader, Banker, Socialite, Pirate.."

Daphne looks over her shoulder, eyes briefly resting on the little terrorkeet, who's now made her way up to a shoulder. "Roffl," it replies to Bekah, continuing its head-tilt. Conversing through a parrot often leads to hilarity, especially when people have no idea that there's someone behind the voice, but this is /all her./ Daphne's not saying a word, and she refuses to be held responsible for various words that Raptor picks up and uses out of context. Except she does notice the dirty look given to her by Mara, which causes her to offer a 'Yeah, and?' look right back. Because it's just a bird, jeez. Ah, well. With everyone leaving the vicinity of the bar, Daphne will enjoy her wine cooler in peace. The bird, however, has other ideas, and before Mara can get too far away, it leaps onto her shoulder - a featherlight touch, quite literally. Daphne doesn't even note the bird is gone until she receives the message - <Going with pretty girl. T-T-Y-L>

Desmond Cusick to the rescue! He smiles genially at the stock analyst and gives him a wink that would totally belie that geniality. Later, loser. Then, offering Gwen his arm, he slips off toward the dance floor, glancing over his shoulder only once to ensure that the spurned analyst has taken things well. "I'm sorry," he chuckles to the woman at his side, lowering his voice, "it appeared that you could have used a little … assistance." Whether or not she remembers him doesn't matter. He's had more than his fair share of such instances. There is one matter, however: "Now that I have met you again, might I ask for your real name?"

"I can handle boring men," Gwen tells Desmond as he leads her out toward the dance floor. Just so he knows. "But when the drinks are one him, well, maybe he likes a little abuse." Like a lot of men. The mentioning of being met again makes her face fall in concentration again. Her attempt to remember where exactly she knows him from is interrupted by his question about her name. "Huh. What'd I tell you my name was again?" Because if she can't remember who this is, she certainly can't remember what random name she pulled out of nowhere. "I've got a lot of names, Dewey." Dewey? That couldn't have been it.

Bekah makes her way the rest of the way to the bar to order another then turns to watch the crazy little bird and the two women. Her eyes are drawn to the careful way Mara is walking, and then down to the knee causing the trouble. She can leave the scrubs behind, but not being a doctor. It doesn't take long for her drink to come in a place like this, and she pays from her little purse, every bit the lady for a bit tonight at least.

Out on the dance floor, Desmond takes up the standard open position, just as he had when he first met Gwen. He smirks a little at the, uh, failed attempt at his name. "Desmond," he corrects gently, very amused and not in the slightest bit offended or hurt, "and I was asking after the name you /don't/ tend to forget." The song is almost over, but he wasn't asking Gwen to dance so that he could dance with her for long.

"GERROFF!" Mara shouts and flails as the bird alights on her shoulder. God damn creature is ON MY SHOULDER! She grabs hold of the railing tightly, nearly losing her cane as she tries to bat the little bird away. It may be cute, but firstly, it isn't her freaking bird. Secondly, it is /obviously/ going to get in the way of her goal tonight. The bird may attract the ladies - well, certain sorts of ladies, obviously not her sort - but she doubts it'll have the desired effect on the men around this place.

Zac blinks, "Well, now. That's something you don't see every day." he comments to no one in particular drinking his scotch.

Daphne turns just in time for Mara to start flailing at her little stowaway. Well, /crap./ Daphne's first reaction is to get Raptor back to her shoulder as soon as possible, so she offers a very strong <Get /back here!/> to the little creature, and - despite the fact that it's being swung at, it goes right back to the zookeeper, landing - somewhat ruffled - on her outstretched wrist. "Sorry," Daphne says apologetically, which the bird simultaneously calls Mara a "Noodle!" Hey, if it /sounds/ like an insult…

"Whatever," Gwen replies sweetly. "I was just testing you." To see if he remembered his own name? Well, stranger things have happened. Since she has trouble remembering hers. She doesn't seem to mind the shortness of the dance as that wasn't really the point. "Oh, but I'm quite forgetful." Telling some guy she doesn't remember her real name doesn't really seem like a good idea. "I forget important things all the time. I don't even remember my phone number."

Bekah takes her drink closer to the scene with the bird. "Wow. How many have I had?" She mutters as she looks between Daphne and Mara. She heads towards Mara, possibly intent on a similar goal. After all, it looks like the High School friend is cozily ensconced with that blonde in one of the corners.

"God damned buzzard," Mara snarls, casting a dirty look toward the offending fowl. "I haven't had enough for this." Is it worth it anymore? A dismayed look is cast at her glass. Oh no! She /spilled/. Worst night ever.

Zac cants his hand, seeing the spilled drink and winces painfully. "Oooh, party foul. Alcohol abuse." he sips his own scotch.

"Oh, indubitably," responds Desmond, nodding his head solemnly. Of course she was just testing him. He only grins at her argument of forgetting important things. "Your life must be quite difficult if you are the sort who forgets her own name." He casts a glance over her shoulder at the stock analyst, who seems to have moved on to other things. Diversion achieved! And just as the song starts to wind down. He lets the dancing wind down as well, then takes a step back, holding one of Gwen's hands aloft. "Tell me or don't, it makes no difference to me. I was merely hoping to have something to call you next time — something that you would remember." A wink and then a kiss is placed to the back of her hand before he turns to leave.

Bekah heads back up the stairs and off towards that friend. Maybe the blonde has a friend. Or they can just finish getting quite drunk together. Either would work right at this moment.

A little huff escapes Mara's lips as she continues her quest to climb the stairs, even with half a drink. It's quieter up there. Less crazy women with birds. Not her night. But… things can only get better from here, right?

"You have no idea how hard it is to be me." Gwen manages to say that with a serious face before it breaks out into a smirk. Even if the stock analyst was not moving on to other things, it's possible that the blonde does. "Well, we'll see how it goes next time. Makes it much too easy if I just gave in now. Where's the chase and the excitement?" When Desmond winks and turns to go, she doesn't move to stop him. In fact, she does the same - complete with her own wink. "Later, Desi." On her way out of the bar, she pulls out the wallet she managed to sneak away from Stock Analyst's back pocket with a big grin. Looks like there will be /more/ drinks on the house from him.

And with that, Desmond starts moving on toward the stairs himself, intent on exiting the premises. Or at least trying his luck with the crowded party-goers on the lower level. As he's making his way down, he spies a woman with a cane trying to make her way up, and at first it would seem that he's going to simply turn to the side to give her room — but then he gets a glimpse of her face and changes gears immediately. Previous company should be more than enough proof that Desmond has a thing for blondes. He pauses, quickly taking in the status of her drink and, er, other things with a glance, then smiles warmly. "Excuse me," he chuckles. "Need some help?" Knight in shining armor indeed.

Damn. I knew this thing would come in handy. Mara smiles winningly at Desmond. "Why, could you? You would be my /hero/ if you could let me hold your arm while I climb these steps. So much easier than trying to use the cane." She waits for said arm expectantly.

That arm is offered without hesitation, and Desmond's smile only grows, breaking into a grin. "And safer too, I would wager," he notes with a tilt of his head. "Perhaps when we reach the top of these perilous stairs, I can pay for your next drink as well." Mm-hmm, clearly the evening is not a total bust.

Definitely not. Mara's grin widens, though she doesn't part her lips and flash her teeth to him. "That would be lovely, thank you." She easily climbs the stairs with Desmond's help. "I'm Mara," she offers. And you are…?

"Desmond." Unlike Gwen, he never forgets his name. It's very easy to remember: five letters, starts and ends with a D. The actor's grin never once wavers. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mara." It's slow going, but they manage to make it to the top of the stairs, and Desmond doesn't stop there. Nope. On to the bar. "Shall I offer you a clichéd line, or are you the sort who enjoys /sincere/ flattery?"

"I do prefer the sincerity. But I'll take a clichéd line if it's delivered convincingly enough," Mara responds easily with a devilish little glint in her eye.

Hmm, well. Desmond /is/ an actor. It's his job to be convincing. But he also isn't one to resort to the clichés unless he's desperate (and he hasn't been desperate since high school). Once they've reached the bar, he motions the bartender over, but his gaze doesn't leave Mara once. "Ah, I'm glad to hear it — about the sincerity I mean — because I was going to comment on your eyes. I don't think I have ever seen such a color."

The line works. Mara blushes and glances away almost shyly. "Thank you." She can't quite meet his eyes, so her gaze settles on his lips for now. Baby steps. "I don't believe I've ever heard that line before."

"Well, I'm glad to hear it," chuckles Desmond. Mara may not be able to meet his eyes, but he's still staring at hers, his expression growing thoughtful. "Or perhaps I have seen that color before." He pauses, narrowing his eyes in deep consideration before he decides that, yes, he /has/ seen that color before. "Yes, I have — during a trip to Hawaii. I was out on the water during the middle of the day, and the sea was so calm, beautiful. At a certain angle, it was just that hue." He lets his gaze linger a moment, smiling, then glances to the bartender and orders another martini — dry, two olives.

"You had me well before any mention of Hawaii," Mara smirks faintly, the blush creeping further into her pale cheeks. "If it's even remotely true, then thank you." She orders a fresh gin and tonic, knocking back what was left in her glass before setting it on the bar. "So, Desmond, what brings you here tonight?"

Desmond lifts an eyebrow when the truthfulness of his words is questioned. Sure, it could've been a line, but he'd be a horrible person if he didn't stand by it 100 percent. "Of course it's true," he responds smoothly, supporting his weight with one hand against the bar as he awaits the arrival of the drinks. "You said you preferred sincerity." There's the faintest flutter of a wink before he moves on to answering the question: "I usually come here for the atmosphere. It helps that they make excellent martinis here. I wasn't expecting it to be so crowded tonight, though." He glances over his shoulder at the throng, throwing a sweeping gaze over the faces present before he returns his focus to Mara. "And you?"

Mara giggles quietly, making her own sweep of the room as Desmond does. "Same reason, actually. It's a good place to meet nice people." She shrugs and turns an easy smile on Desmond. "It is a bit crowded though, isn't it? It's usually considerably more quiet." After a deep breath, she summons the courage to meet his eyes. Good God, he's handsome.

Once he's got that gaze, Desmond isn't wont to drop it. He holds it as long as Mara's courage lasts, the corners of his lips pulling upward even further as though to say, "Was that so hard?" He doesn't look away even when the martini and gin and tonic arrive, set on the bar directly in front of the pair. "Usually." Both eyebrows slip upward slightly. "There are quieter places tonight, I'm sure." Like his place, perhaps?

After a long drink of her gin, one of Mara's brows arches upward. Her expression turns coy. "Quieter? More… intimate?" She leans forward just the barest bit. Are we on the same wavelength? I think we are. Another quick sip. All the while, her eyes stay on Desmonds. She's not about to lose this game of chicken. There will be plenty of chances for her eyes to roam if she plays her cards right.

Ah yes, /quite/ the same wavelength. Up goes one of Desmond's eyebrows in an equally coy, if not devilish expression. The smile becomes a smirk, and he drops the eye contact only briefly to pick up his martini. "Very much so. There are no birthday parties— " he gives a small nod toward the crowded bar as he takes a sip from his glass "— there, I guarantee it. A pair of people can enjoy some privacy." For private things.

"I think I quite like that notion." Mara's eyes break contact long enough to shamelessly sweep Desmond's form. See? I'm not as shy as I seem. "You don't have a wife or a girlfriend I should know about, do you?" Though the glint in her eye suggest it doesn't matter either way.

What an amusing little question! As if such things matter. They certainly don't for Desmond. He raises his left hand, fingers out, palm turned toward himself in order to show off his bare ring finger — and there are no signs that there ever was a ring there. It is a very naked finger. "I am very unattached — but you are more than welcome to alter that for the evening. I can have a limousine here in two minutes, if you like."

"A limo?" That earns Desmond a very appreciative look from Mara. "What in the world do you do for a living?" Hopefully nothing illegal. This is quite the deal, however. She's going to start feeling like she's got class or something if she keeps landing herself men who can call for nice cars on a whim. Not that she's planning to move past one night with Desmond.

That gets another smirk from Desmond, who sips from his glass once again. "I am a performer," is his purposefully vague response. The last thing he needs is the evening being interrupted by a sudden case of Fanatic. Mara would perhaps not be familiar with his body of work, but he would rather not run that risk. "I am sure it is hardly as exciting as what you do for a living." Yes, change the subject.

That causes Mara to fall silent for a moment before grins. "Professional barfly." She shrugs easily. "Not to be confused with 'gold digging whore,' though." She pats her leg lightly. "Just until I can go back to work. It easier to joke about being a scene queen than to say I'm on medical leave. Sounds a lot more glamourous, don't you think?"

"Quite — and it has the added benefit of avoiding such nasty little questions as, 'Why, what happened?'" Desmond, clearly, is the type who likes to avoid nasty little questions like that. He is also not the overly curious type. The less he knows, the better off he'll be the next morning. Finishing off his martini, he plucks up the toothpick containing the olives and bites one off without much ceremony. "Besides, I'm sure professional barflies make fine livings."

"It certainly has its benefits." Mara knocks back the last of her drink and leans forward, eyes flitting to the second olive before settling on his eyes again. Gimme?

Once again, Desmond quirks an eyebrow at the look his olive is given, but he has no particular attachment to it, so he offers it up without hesitation. Of course, he doesn't just hand it over, no. He holds it up closer to Mara, inviting her to take it straight from the toothpick. Why waste energy with all those superfluous movements involved in exchanging it hand-to-hand? "I'm sure." He gives a discreet tilt of his head toward the staircase. "Shall we?"

Once Mara's taken the olive off the toothpick carefully with her teeth, eyes fixed on Desmond's the whole time, she nods. "Oh, let's." She waits for him to extend his arm to help her down the stairs, tucking her cane under the free arm.

Of course he extends his arm, because Desmond is a perfect gentleman. Absolutely. Or, well, he is up until the pair climb into the limo that does, indeed, arrive about two minutes after its called. That's when all bets are off — and when they reach his brownstone, other things are off too. Not a bad way to end a perfect stranger's birthday.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License