2007-08-02: The One With Better Hair


DFJane_icon.gif DFMcAlister_icon.gif DFTrina_icon.gif

Summary: Sitting at the bar, Ali and Jane discuss a pickup, a guy with better hair, dresses, beer and food. Trina arrives and works on acquiring vehicle parts.

Dark Future Date: August 2nd, 2009

The One With Better Hair

S* Y* N* Club, NYC

Unf-chiss-unf-chiss - electronic music, simple dance trance, wafts out from the dance floor in time to flashing lights and the rhythmic movement of those on the floor proper. It has been piped even to the stripper's runs - three exotic sorts attracting quite a crowd of oglers as they do what strippers do when you put pole and music and profession together.

In the middle of the crowd, nondescript at best, a certain Sainted Voice moves among the people, small enough to be hard to notice, heading on a roughly straight track for the bar.

She's at the bar, her back to the crowd, with a beer in her hand. The angry-eyed brunette looks much the same as she normally does now, but her guitar and backpack are elsewhere. Her clothing is a bit more upscale than usual as well, but still dark in color. The glass is lifted, she takes a drink from it, then replaces it on the surface.

It may come as a surprise as Ali moves up next to Jane, there at the bar, thin fingers nudging at the woman's elbow - no surprises intended one way or another, after all. Her wry alto's pitched /just/ enough to carry over the beat and crowd noise.

"Just beer? I'd have called you for something stronger." She offers a grin - but is distracted, scanning the nearby crowd for.. something. Someone? Likely the latter.

She glances at the woman next to her when the fingers nudge her elbow. "I like beer sometimes," Jane answers. "But you do know me, I always had decent wines around when I had the apartment." Her eyes focus somewhere distant, perhaps taking a journey of memory back to better times. "What're you having?" she asks calmly, as she makes ready to purchase and pay for whatever that might be.

"Hmm? Oh. don't worry about it.." Ali sets her back to the bar, companionably close to the guitarist. "I'm just here to meet a guy and give him money. For stuff." She /knows/ what that sounds like - and can't hide the grin, or, apparently, get it back to where it's supposed to be. "Long, thin stuff. With cords attached."

"Oh," Jane replies simply. She takes another drink of the beer and lets her eyes wander again, asking without passion "Long thin stuff with cords attached?" The gaze flicks over Ali's face and the grin, as it starts to occur to her these might be of a salacious nature. "Don't those usually feature batteries instead, Ali?"

"Nah. Batteries just don't give you enough oomph." Ali's definitely milking the metaphor - and, for once, enjoying it. A handful of bar pretzels are snagged from a nearby bowl - knowing her, that's probably breakfast. "I'm thinking about going out to the orphanage later today - I got a line on some clothes - " A bit grimmer, but then.. "There was a pickup last night, and they had kids. So, you know - " A shrug. Recycling. A grim business.

She doesn't respond verbally to the mention of pickup and clothes. Jane's eyes just flash with a bit more of the darkness in them, her forming quip about the items Ali's here for dying an unspoken death, as she once again lifts the beer and drains it. Then she taps the bar again twice, signaling the 'tender for another. It's Rolling Rock she's drinking.

"Anyway - " Crunch goes a pretzel.. and her mood lightens. "The Other Peter showed up yesterday. The one with better hair." A faint shrug, Ali still watching the crowd - "I think I've given up understanding."

She doesn't seem at all surprised by this information, as her own fingers settle on a pretzel. Jane holds it in hand, remarking only "He did." A rare thing happens next, the anger in her eyes seems to diminish for a fleeting second and be replaced by a touch of hopefulness. "It's not hard to understand, really," she states. "Just about any ability you can imagine probably exists. He's not the only one who walks the paths of time and space."

"Yeah, well - all I can say is… if he's going to stick a finger in God's eye? More power to him. Whatever." Ali looks down at those pretzels - as though mildly surprised. "Can you do me a favor? It's not a huge one."

She faces Ali, her head tilting to listen, as she lifts the pretzel. "What're you needing?" Curiosity arrives. "Original Peter and I go back. I put it all on the line to help him not even a month after I… found my voice, or so I'm told. But I don't remember it. It's more of a believable story, one that makes more sense than the memory and explains blank spots."

"I need a dress. Something actually - ya know. Presentable." Ali flashes a wry smile up at the woman next to her. "Yeah? I.. just got a real problem trusting all of this. But - you should see your eyes. And Jack's face, too - Lachlan had the same look." Sudden, fierce - "He screws all of it up? I'm going to kill him." Says the woman who hasn't killed anybody, as far as anyone knows. "I.. seriously. Just dead."

"A dress," Jane replies with a shadow of amusement. "Who's the guy, Ali? You decided not to trust in the thin corded stuff and go after Sven yourself?" She's teasing, though her voice tone doesn't change much. It's just the people close to her who can tell the difference nowadays. "But what kind of dress?" The pretzel goes into her mouth and is slowly eaten while fingers rest around her fresh glass of Rolling Rock.

"Hell if I know. And - no. And - whatever. I'm not picky right now - somethin' kind of formal?" Formalwear. Yeah.

Ali actually manages to look wholly embarrassed, leaning there against the bar. "It's something else - look. Don't worry about it." The embarrassment has apparently sunk in. "It's not important anyway." Aha! distraction. "… rolling rock isn't beer, you know. It's nasty."

"One little black dress, Ali-sized. Got it," Jane replies. "Red's a good color for you, Ali. And Rolling Rock, it's good enough. Picked up a taste for it when I played my first professional New York gigs. And her eyes study the blonde from head to toe, getting an impression of the size she'll need. "Got you covered on the dress front. When do you need it?"

"Damnit, no. Don't worry about it." Ali shoots Jane a /look/. As impotent as that look may be, well.. she's throwing it out there. "Just - no. Right? There's better stuff you could be doing. Besides, I should probably be seeing about that new aerial and not worrying about stupid stuff like that. So! Fair enough." She fishes in the pocket of those jeans.

"It's nothing to worry about. You asked, I agreed, you're getting a little black dress. Wear it or not, up to you, Ali." Jane starts to lift the Rolling Rock glass, as her eyes rest on the shorter one again. "Come to think of it, I should drag you somewhere for a nice thick steak too. Every night for a solid week. And I'm sorry for teasing. Really. Been alone myself on that front since '07 when I caught Jaden cheating." When she's silent again, more of that pretzel is eaten.

Ali waves a hand - coming out with another of those ubiquitous envelopes of hers, looking relieved. "I grab a hot dog or something every once in a while. Save the steak for a special occasion. And he's still an ass for that - hell, he's still an ass, just in new and interesting ways."

She frowns, scanning the crowd again. "He's /supposed/ to be here. You know, I don't like this - at all. Usually it's just in, out and gone. Not really my kind of place."

Speaking of dresses. And red. There's a flash of said color in a sea of black as a feminine figure sways in the corner. "Oh, c'mon," the figure pleads, unpainted fingertip moving to lightly tap the nose of a much larger man with buzzed hair and a newly growing in Van Dyke on his round face. "It's just a couple of brake discs. I bet you got a hundred of those." Blue eyes roll skyward in their dark, mascara-lined frames, contemplative. "And an oxygen sensor." Those eyes level once more on the man in front of her. "If you got one. Universal would be fine."

The darkly suited man looks the lady in red over once, growing suspicious. His nose then crinkles, drawing his lip up into a partial sneer. "What the Hell are you gonna do with an oxygen sensor?"

"Give it to my mechanic," the woman replies, a hand moving up to twirl a strand of her black hair. Cue a bright, painted smile. Because surely she wouldn't know what to do with it. "I tried to get it at the shop, but they couldn't get their hands on one for me. But they told me that *you* were the best bet in town when you're looking for the bits and pieces of a good ride." When she bites that lower lip and sways again, Katrina Mah looks every bit the coy doll. But it quickly passes as she regards his look of hesitation, and she shrugs slim, bare shoulders in a sudden look of boredom. "But hey. I bet there are plenty of boys in this town looking for a little gratitude who can give me what I need. So don't worry about it. I'll just go talk to one of *them*." Wasting no time, she starts to make her way towards the bar. Eyes closing for a moment as she fervently prays while she walks. Please, dumbass. Please take the bait. Her eyes are still closed when she reaches out and grabs hold of the bar, entirely unaware that she has ended up not two seats down from a particularly sympathetic pair.

"His ass wasn't his downfall," Jane remarks stoically. "It was that part 'round front. But still, I don't hate him." She takes a long drink of the beer, picks out another pretzel, and holds both in hand. She glances in Trina's direction briefly and nods once, then back to Ali. "It's a special occasion already. You're 'specially thin, your hands shake sometimes, and therefore being well fed for a solid week totally needs to happen. Got to keep you healthy so your voice works."

Apparently. Uh. Ali's been around Jack too much.

"… you know. For /years/ I wanted to ask - what's it like.. you know. With a guy that can do.. " She makes a hand gesture. How that signifies 'be in more than one place at a time' is mystifying, but.. that's the general gist.

As the conversation goes on, though, she flushes. "I'm fine. There's better things to spend money on anyway." Oh, Look! A distraction! Ali peers over Trina's way - it saves looking at Jane uncomfortably - curious. And - utterly oblivious of the trailing purveyor of brake parts, she raises her voice, "Hey, you!" Comes with a small wave, too.

Brake parts… and a few other and more expensive goodies of the likes that Trina has found the fleet very desperately in need.

The sound of a familiar voice hits Trina's ears. Oh, crap on a stick. Her eyes shoot open, and there's a nervous sort of smile that gets flashed in Ali and Jane's direction. "Hey. Fancy seeing you here," she offers somewhat quietly in the more neutral accent reserved for playing outside, just over the sounds of the music pounding overhead. "Great night for business, huh?"

"I'll never tell," she replies from her seat. And there lies the topic of Jaden Cain, not to be raised again this day by Jane Forrest. The brake part seeker is sighted again, she offers a greeting. "Afternoon, Trina." She turns to check out the crowd briefly, and rolls her eyes. Jane's been sitting here for a stretch of minutes while talking with Ali and hasn't once commented on the sounds her ears are exposed to. She's overdue. "This place needs some real music, some decent rock. This stuff is almost more painful than dog whistles."

"s'only 'cause you have this /thing/ against anything that doesn't use real guitars." Ali hehs, softly - winking once at Trina - all's alright. Really. And.. she goes back to scanning the crowd.

"I think. I'm. Hmm. Ten more minutes, then I"m out. Seriously." It really isn't paranoia if they /are/ out to get you. Never forget.

There's a sniff on Trina's part. Acceptance of Ali's plan, most likely. S'a good idea. And Jane gets a tight smile as well. Times ain't so good as they used to be.

Finally, Trina's mark makes his way over to her side once more. He talks first, however, to the bartender. "Amaretto sour." A glance to the two girls just down the way. Hey. They're not bad lookin' either. He's a frequent customer here, so it doesn't hurt to grease up the gears a little for possible later machinations, right? "Down the line."

From forth his pocket, a very large wad of bills is extracted and more than enough to cover the inflated club and disaster prices is set out on the counter. Then he starts talking to Trina, who is looking dead forward across the bar, even as he makes a starting inquiry. "Friends of yours?"

"It doesn't have to be guitars," Jane replies. "I play piano, cello, sax, flute, and bagpipes too, you know. I just draw the line at real instruments." She takes another drink of the Rolling Rock and glances toward Trina's mark. He hasn't addressed her, so she doesn't speak. Nor does she seem to notice his money. One might guess from that she's got a decent stash of her own. "Ten minutes sounds about right, Ali. Then we'll go get you properly fed." Looking over at Trina, she perhaps seems ready to enlist backup in that plan.

"… Yeah." Ali hands that envelope off to Jane - "Be right back. I need to hit the bathroom. And if he's not here by then? I'm out." The DJ looks.. .truly skittish, but she keeps her voice low, and even turns a bright and sunny smile on Trina and Guy as she moves, abruptly, away from the bar.

"Not really," Trina replies, her smile becoming slightly nervous. Don't look there. Look here. "Just met 'em." She then takes hold of the drink and downs it, entirely, in a few moments. Then she wraps her arm about the man's beside her, doing her best to flash a winsome smile. "If you're here, I'm guessing that means you reconsidered about the brake discs. And the oxygen sensor. And… I have a few other things I've been looking for… If you wanna go talk outside." Away from Ali's business. And Jane. She rests her dark head on the sizable man's arm, laughing. "C'mon. This place sucks anyway."

When the suited man looks at her, any suspicion seems to be buried between eternal hope that springs. Really, it's just car parts. What does he care what this chick does with them? His thick arm drops, dwarfing Katrina's waist by comparison when he swings it around her. "Yeah, alright." And with that, they're gone! Not without a last, fleeting backward smile to Jane. See you around.

Soon after they depart, there's another couple of the sweet drink deposited at Ali and Jane's spots. Whether they drink it with their beer is entirely up to them. Mr. Car Parts is gone.

She holds the envelope, watching Trina and her mark exit, as she waits for Ali's return so the delivery can be accepted and they can go somewhere for that solid meal. Jane's entirely serious about that, and doesn't intend on taking no for an answer from the Broadcaster.

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