LOG: Bobby and Manuel, Friday evening

[x-coldhands.livejournal.com]

One Night in BangkokNew York

Manuel decides to entertain himsel with some Bobby and some clubbing. But first, he has to convince Robert. He's very good at this.


Manuel was in something of a Mood. He never did get Danielle to scratch his itch, and on top of that he'd spent last night in the grip of gut-clenching nightmares. He needed to take his mind off of things, and -fast-. But women ... ah, women weren't the answer. Not this time. He didn't feel like trying to empathize with them, to flatter and cajole and listen to them go on and on about their mundane little fears, their soceital repression of their core drives. It bored him, and he was tired of it. But, he thought with a slow smile, there was a whole 'nother avenue to explore, one he'd not indulged in in ... far too long, really. And he knew _just_ the right boy for the job.

Said boy was currently curled up in the rec room, letting himself not think about anything with the help of Soul Caliber II. Ah, mindless ass-kicking with good graphics. Truly a great comfort.

It wasn't difficult to find Robert, truly. The boy had been in a serious funk, probably about Teresa. This could require a little bit of finesse. "Robert!" Manuel said, swinging himself over the back of a chair to land in it gracefully. "What's up?"

Bobby paused the game and looked up, eyes narrowing slightly as he saw who it was. "What do you want?" he growled. He tried to suppress a strange mix of disgust and desire that washed through him at the thought of those hands touching his Terry, the mental images accompanying it disturbingly arousing. Not a good thing to let the empath know things like that when you're trying to be pissed at them.

Manuel grinned at Bobby. "Heard you were feeling pretty down on account of what Terry did." he said. "Wanted to see if I could help clear the air a little, and then if you're amenable I had an idea." he explained. "But first ... Seattle." he said with a heavy exhalation. "Did she tell you exactly how things happened?"

Bobby snorted, looking away. "She told me you were both drunk, and that she doesn't remember much of it," he replied sullenly. "What the hell were you guys doing drinking, anyway?"

"Jamieson's. And she does too remember, she's just too ashamed to tell you about it properly." he pointed out. "It went down like this. Yeah, I had a bottle of something to keep me company - I'm an empath, and there was a huge _riot_ going on in the city. As you can probably imagine, I was not at the top of my game. So I've got a deck of cards with me, and I ask her if she wants to play. So we do, and she's matching me drink for drink. She's Irish, we're drinking Jamison's. it's like mother's milk to her. So, after a dozen or so hands we've killed the bottle. I'm getting ready to pack it in when _BAM_!" he exclaimed.

Bobby frowned as Manuel talked, not sure whether to buy it or not. He jumped at the exclamation, startled. "...Bam?" This didn't sound like his Terry. Not at all.

"BAM!" Manuel said, with a little hand gesture like he was throwing something explosive onto a fire. "You'll never believe this. Shit, I was _there_ and I barely believe it. She gets this look in her eye ... maybe you've seen it? Real wicked-like, real naughty. And then she tells me that since we're out of booze she's just going to have to wager her shirt. My eyes were popping out of my head, let me tell you! I tried to stop her - tell her that she didn't need to do that, that it was all good the way she was, but she wasn't having any of that. Next thing I know, she's got that little blue bra one. You know the one, right? Real tiny, just barely covers? Yeah. That one. So there I am, stunned by the power of tits. We play the next few hands, and I can't fucking catch a break to save my life. Best hand I got was a fucking pair of tens." he grumbled. "But anyway. She _insists_ that I have to match her clothes for clothes. And hey, I'm feeling no pain at this point so what the fuck, right?"

Bobby found himself starting to believe Manuel's words, as strange as it seemed. He did know the look, and it made his throat tighten painfully to picture her giving it to someone else. "Right," he muttered, jaw clenched.

"Hey, I know it was not my finest hour. But you try imbibing half a fifth of Jamieson's and having those lightly-freckled perfect tits just six inches or so away." he said with a laugh. "So anyway, I'm down to not much at all, and she's still mostly all there. And then, I fucking swear, she _starts throwing hands away_. She'd fold with a pair of queens, she'd fold with the Dead Man's Hand, she'd fold with a fucking _straight_." he said. "It's like she _wanted_ to get naked, but just needed the excuse." he said disbelievingly. Next thing I know, she's there in just her hair and a smile. At that point I knew things had gone way, way out of control, but there wasn't anything I could do. She had to have things her way, ya know? Or else she'd scream rape or assault and have the pigs downstairs throw my ass into a deep dark hole somewhere and throw away the key. After all, who'd believe Empath over the pure and innocent Irish bonny lass?" he said in a creditable take on Terry's own accent. "I'm not proud of what I did." he said. "But I had no choice!"

This was all very confusing. "That just doesn't sound like her," Bobby said weakly. "Are you sure?"

"Dude, I was _there_." he said. "And she claims, conveniently, that she doesn't remember. But if I could only show you what I see..." he said with a sigh. "I do. Part of being a psi - we don't forget. Ever." he said. "So, now on to the second part of things. You, Robert Drake, need a night out. You've been cooped up with Angelo for the past, what, three days straight? You need to get out, have some fun, maybe get your wick wet. Forget about Terry - she's the one playing you. She gets to have her fun, pretend she doesn't remember, then come crying back to you for forgiveness. Fuck that noise, man! It isn't right. So whaddya say? Let's go out, get you some new threads, and then let's paint the town red for a night."

Bobby stared at Manuel, torn. The story sounded plausible and outrageous all at the same time, and he'd have to be an idiot to go hang out with the guy that his girlfriend had cheated on him with, right? But on the other hand, getting out and having a good time sounded like a plan, although he wouldn't be doing any 'wick wetting'. "...Fine. Whatever," he finally said, exhaling loudly.

"Great. Bring your wallet - we need to do some serious surgery to your look, man." he said with a laugh. "Meet you down in the Garage in ten?" he said, getting to his feet. "We are going to have -fun-. You deserve this, man. She treats you like shit, and you need to do something fun for you."

Manuel was right. Bobby'd gone above and beyond the call of duty, being patient and understanding about Terry's inexperience, despite his own desires--and then she turned around and seduced Manuel the minute Bobby was busy doing other things! "I do deserve it," he said quietly, punching the power button on the X-box with his toe before flipping over the back of the couch. "I'll see you in ten." He gave Manuel an almost grateful smile and half-jogged toward his room.

Manuel dashed back to his own room, to change into something a little bit more club-worthy. Ahh, the crimson silk was clean! Excellent! That and the leather pants he'd hung onto as his only memento of his time spent with Amanda, plus some nice boots and his omnipresent shades completed the ensemble nicely. Grinning, he headed down to the garage to go get one of the nicer rides checked out.

Bobby didn't bother putting too much effort into his own outfit. No point if Manuel was making him get a makeover, so he just pulled on clean jeans and a t-shirt, combed his hair, and grabbed his wallet. He shoved his feet into tennis shoes and jogged down to the garage, feeling better than he had in two weeks.

Manuel had the car idling and ready to go. "You ready?" he asked with a grin. "This ain't gonna be cheap. You flush?" he asked, hand reaching for the knobs of the stereo to get a little mood-music going.

Bobby slid into the passenger seat, leaning onto one hip to pull his wallet out and double check the contents. "About 200 bucks plus plastic," he replied, tucking the wallet away again as he buckled the seat belt.

"That'll do." he said, pulling the car out with a squeal of rubber on pavement.

*LATER*

"OK, now we're happening." Manuel said as he escorted Bobby into the pounding club. The music was loud but crisp, the people beautiful, the booze plentiful, and best of all the dance floor against the back wall had on one side a floor-to-ceiling pole. "Let's get situated." he said, scanning the room empathically, looking for just the right combination of intoxication, loose morals, and good looks.

Bobby looked around, feeling slightly uncomfortable and very much out of his element. The outfit didn't help. "You're really sure I don't look like an idiot in this?" he asked, raising his voice to be heard over the bass and plucking self-consciously at the shirt. An exotic-looking asian woman walked past them just then, wearing what seemed to Bobby to be strategically placed patches of leather and lace, and little else. Okay, that thing defies gravity, he thought to himself, staring as she walked away.

Manuel just grinned over his shoulder at Bobby. "You look -fine-." he said, licking his lips unconsciously. And he did, too, that was the damned thing about it. Bobby was so clean-cut that really the best way to go was to play with that. Preppie chic looked like ass on most, but Bobby could pull it off effortlessly. He looked good enough to eat, but Manuel had to set things up first. "Excuse me ladies, gents." he said to a large group of milling Beautiful People in very, very expensive clothes. Manuel had been working crowds like this since he was old enough to compel his way into clubs, and soon enough he had this bunch eating out of his hands. What made it perfect is this _truly_ stunning little Asian number in a cocktail dress that practically screamed "FUCK ME!" to anyone who knew how to listen.

Manuel knew exactly how to listen. A few words in her ear, and she headed over to Bobby like she had acquired missile lock. In the meantime, Manuel had taken up to chatting with a black man ... shaved head, muscle, a real Shaft-type. And he liked white boys.

Bobby felt almost light-headed, within fifteen minutes of entering the club. The asian draped herself over him, and it would have been rude to tell her to stop kissing his neck, right? Or to tell her to move her hand--oh, look at that, she was moving it all on her own. Bobby groaned quietly and leaned his head back. This was not happening. Smoking hot girls did not throw themselves into his lap within minutes of meeting him.

Manuel glanced over to where the Asian was working Bobby over and grinned. Now it was time to see what Bobby thought about the darker meat. Manuel went up to the bar for drinks, and passed close enough to the Asian girl to whisper something into her ear. She shuddered as if she'd been goosed, and Manuel had a little bit of a bounce in his step as he retrieved the drinks from the barkeep - a gigantic bottle of champagne, a half-dozen glasses, and a bottle of water for Bobby. He wasn't much of a drinker, and he didn't want to give the boy the excuse. Besides, Manuel wanted him functional for later. Time to ratchet up the pressure.

Bobby looked up as the Asian took a break from molesting him to help herself to the champagne as Manuel returned, and he blinked, then gave Manuel a grateful smile for the proffered water. New clothes, a rocking club, beautiful people surrounding them, and he didn't have to worry about being pressured to drink? Awesome.

Manuel picked up on the spike of gratitude and waved it off. "Figured you'd like that. But here, I think that David here is _dying_ to meet you, now that Kathy there is off to powder her nose." he said, then stepped to one side to allow the enormous black guy to shake Bobby's hand. "I'll be right back. You wacky kids don't be too naughty while I'm gone!" he said, making his own way back to the restrooms.

Bobby barely even noticed Manuel leaving, as David sank into the chair right next to his, leaning forward to hold murmured conversations against his ear, rather than shouting down the music. Bobby's part of the conversation consisted mostly of nodding or shaking his head as David asked him gradually more personal questions, swallowing hard as the black man smirked and laid a hand on his thigh. What gods to I owe prayers of thanks to after tonight? he wondered idly.

Manuel returned after a few moments with a grin on his face. Payment for services rendered, and Kathy was an old clubbing-buddy of his. She'd even asked about Amanda without sending him into a terminal tailspin. Progress, of a sort. He saw Bobby and David having the beginnings of a moment, and grinned. Looking around, he couldn't help but do a little dance, right there in place. He'd let himself forget how much he loved clubbing, despite all the memories of him and Amanda that it invariably raised inside of him. But ah, now things on the dancefloor were starting to heat up. Apparently a few of the local hotties had drunk enough and egged themselves on enough to put the pole to use. And one of them was a truly _stunning_ bottle-blonde with a body that had would have stricken the Pope dead in sheer lust. And she knew how to work it, too, he noticed. Excellent!