2008-03-16: While There's Music and Moonlight

Starring:

Hiro_icon.gif McAlister_icon.gif Ian_icon.gif Quinn_icon.gif George_icon.gif

Summary: On opening night, a new club starts to establish a reputation for quick-change theatrics.

Date It Happened: March 16, 2008

While There's Music and Moonlight


Imago Cabaret, Greenwich Village

Hiro applauds at the quick change, obviously quite impressed. His conversation with Ali falls by the wayside for the moment as he stares in rapt attention, taken by the spectacle of it all.

The hall is fairly packed, the lights low - and the show ongoing. Ali and Hiro are at a table near the bar, Ian up at the bar itself (and idle) - while below, a blonde croons into a microphone and dancers set a remarkable spectacle: Vegas nightlife at its finest, brought to a new home in NYC.

The dancers seem to be singers too. At least, a decent chorus as they move back and the lighting changes. There's a small spot in the center of the stage, and a spot for each of the dancers, the rest left in deep shadow. They alternate, men and women, in each spot. The icy blonde woman moves back from the mike, which falls into shadow. Her figure is faintly seen in the darkness as she twirls, her skirt flaring around her in the dark. But the silhouette of the figure changes subtly, as the chorus sings the 'bridge' of the song,

"Soon, we'll be without the moon,
Humming a different tune, and then…"

And grabbing one of the female dancers around the waist, as the lady dips like a fainting flower in her.. his? arms, once again, is the male singer, 'Fred Astaire' to those who would recognize him.

Ali just stares - "I.. that's.." She gives Hiro a glance, but her eyes stay on the dancers - "Just…" Again, she applauds with the rest of the crowd, wry grin softening into a delighted smile.

Hooray! Magic and music! Delightful and Hiro makes his opinion known with more applause.

It took some doing for George to make it to tonight's premiere - not to mention a skipped meal that will come back to haunt him later - but it's worth it to take in a spectacle while it's still fresh. Threading his way through the crowd, he reaches the bar and motions with one hand. "Hey, lemme get a glass of that one over there?" he calls out, pointing out a bottle near the top of the display.

Just as the order arrives, he glances over at the people sitting nearby, one of whom he recognizes. "Oh, that's nothing," he quips to Ali, "Ginger has to do the same thing, only backwards. In high heels."

They used to say that Fred made dancing look easy, and this one is no exception. 'He' moves so fluidly, so light on his feet that it seems effortless as, through another musical interlude, he moves from one silvery clad female dancer to the next. He moves toward a male dancer, then seems to pause, and reconsider. As the music seems to be inevitably moving from this chorus toward the final verse, out of the darkness and into the pool of light near the male dancer, comes the icy blonde woman in the red crimson evening gown and, yes, high heels, a mischevious smile on her face as she enters that dancer's now open arms.

"Wh.." Ali turns, brightens - "George! Hey - come sit, huh? This is remarkable - " She turns back in time to see the next quick change, staring. "See, that's what /talented/ people look like."

Hiro glances at the new person he doesn't know before he turns his attention back to the stage, picking up his glass of apple juice and taking a sip.

George settles down and nods to the pair, waving to the one he doesn't know. Friend of the DJ's from someplace or other, he assumes. "There are rumors about New York having some talented people in it," he muses, "if you know where to look. I'd put Times Square up on the same level for flamboyance, just a different flavor of it."

The singer must have one of those portable mikes, who knows where it is. But the alto purr is heard again, as the figure moves from darkness to light. Each time the figure moves into another pool of light, the singer changes from one figure to the next. Fred.. Ginger.. Fred.. It is almost dizzying, and so quickly, smoothly the change is made from one to the next, as Quinn moves from one dancer to the next. But it is the woman who finally comes to the microphone at the end, singing…

"There may be teardrops to shed,
So while there's music and moonlight,
And love and romance,
Let's face the music and dance.."

Ali applauds, enthusiastically, elbowing George in the midst of that (oh, not seriously) with a grin. "She's more inneresting than Times, goof. That? That is /amazing/."

Yaaaay! Hiro claps his hands loudly, endlessly impressed. He's so distracted by the performance that he doesn't realize some of the changes are probably a little too quick. But hey, he's seen illusionists do things like this on television hasn't he?

George is elbowed! It doesn't so much as throw a hiccup into his portion of the applause, though. "Oh, to me, sure! Now some of your other clubgoers, on the other hand…" The speed changes don't really cause him to bat an eye, either - even to one who knows that strange abilities exist, it's easier to assume that the outfit is made out of some special light-reactive material, or whatever.

Quinn takes a bow, a wide smile on her lips. She spins out of the spotlight, then back in, couldn't be a minute later in the tux. Even features seem a bit different as Fred takes his bow as well. Finally, with a last retreat, and return, comes Quinn, herself, in her original suit and all.

"You just can't work up a decent /awe/. Sheesh." Ali laughs, then - and calls a merry, "Bravo!" Hey. It's what you're supposed to do, right?

Quinn moves to the backstage, then from there to the floor with the audience, as the curtain moves down again. Time to mingle with the audience.

George reaches for his drink as it arrives, then elbows Ali back and points toward Quinn as she emerges. "Hey, speaking of, looks like we'll get a chance to offer glowing reviews first-hand."

Ali leans back - glancing to George. "You know - I told her we should do an interview thing - but how the heck do you do that /justice/ without a camera, you know? That's just .. I mean - " She grins. "You're the creative one. How'm I supposed to drum her up a crowd?"

Quinn swings toward that table, as she passes by others. Seems the audience is warm, for the most part. A few ask how she did it, others seemed sure it was all 'mirrors' or something. One even said it was group hypnosis. She laughs off most of them with warm humor. She ends up, eventually, at the table with Ali and crew seated at it.

George looks up and shoots Quinn a thumbs up as she passes by. "Must come in handy when it comes time to do the dishes," he offers, deadpan: his half-finished drink is just at the right point to smooth over rough edges, without causing anything to slur too badly.

"Uh-huh." Ali gives George a /look/ - but it's not serious enough to carry any significant weight. "Just absolutely amazing. Seriously - don't mind him."

Quinn looks momentarily baffled by George, though with that pleasant smile on her lips. Which widens at Ali's comment. "Thank you. I considered a few other options, you know. Judy.." her voice, chameleonlike, takes on each artist's distinctive sound as she mentions them, "But everyone does Judy Garland. I might as well do Cher, or Barbra Streisand." with a grin, "Or.. Elvis." Yes, just like him. "That's just too cliche, right? I thought about Frankie, and I mean Sinatra, not Avalon, and Dean. I might have to try them next time I make an act.>"

George shrugs, absently resting a hand on Ali's arm as he considers this stream of ideas. "Well, I think Sinatra's been done a lot, too— but doing a really /good/ Sinatra, not the cheesy stuff that goes for ten bucks a seat? You could really make something out of that… Or maybe a variety show, homage to Caesar's?"

Ali grins, giving George an oddly, warmly, self-conscious glance at the touch, but she doesn't seem to object. She does ask, though - "Caesar's Palace?" Okay. Naieve question, perhaps - but an earnest one.

Quinn says, "Oh, classic hotel, casino, place to perform. All those classic guys played there. On stage, and at the high roller tables, back in the day." she says, casually. "My father remembers those times."

George nods, leaning into his chair and thinking back. "I heard a few vague stories, here and there… but I was thinking TV, actually, him and Ed Sullivan. That and the stage shows kind of fed into each other, didn't they?"

Ali shakes her head - "I know when I'm out of my league - " She laughs, and finally reaches for her drink. "He's George, by the way."

Quinn offers a hand, saying, "Quinn Lyons. And yeah, it was like everyone had a variety show in those days."

"And this," offers George, "is Ali, Queen of the Airwaves. Who's got a show so dangerous, they have to run it during unrated hours." This, judging by his tone of voice, means it's that damn good. He glances around to make sure they're not holding her up /too/ badly from anyone else in the place.

"Ha. No, it means security guards and one-hundred-and-thirty-seventh-street hookers are the only ones who think it's interesting enough to listen to." Ali rolls her eyes. "But thanks. She knows, though - it's her fault I'm here." The DJ sips at that coke of hers. "We have /got/ to do that interview, Quinn - I dunno how to do it /right/, but we need to do it."

Quinn nods as she says, "Oh, I'll definitely do it. You just tell me when. I'm on here from Wednesday to Sunday night. I get Mondays and Tuesdays off. And, of course, at late nights, after the show. So.." she offers them both her card, "Just call me when there's a spot open." she glances around, sighing, "But for now, I have to mingle with the crowds." she grins, "Part of the gig, you know. 'Be sure to tip your bartenders and waitresses'." she says, almost deadpan.

George does know this much about club life, at least. "Try the veal," he adds, not missing a beat. Then, glancing over at Ali: "Speaking of trying things, I haven't seen /you/ on a dance floor any time lately. Sound like a plan?"

"In /heels/? You're an ass." Ali does get up, though - pushing the chair back. "But I like the plan, if you don't mind bruised toes along the way."

"I didn't say anything about being a speed freak about it," says George, finishing up his drink and following after the DJ. There are a million dances in the naked city, after all.

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