Karaoke All Stars - Part II
Apr. 17th, 2021 07:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsKaraoke night at the High Note continues.
There was a...sense of synchronicity, as Marie-Ange held the door to the karaoke bar open for Doug. The last time he had been eaten by a techno-organic being with malign intent, it had been...god, had it really been over a decade since the chaos of the attack on New York? Doug was definitely feeling some of the weight of those years.
And yet, for the first time in a long time, he had actual energy and wasn't slowly wasting away. ~A real bargain, too, it didn't cost the leg...~ he thought, a bit of dark humor.
There had been music after Day Zero, but it had been at Harry's, with the pub band Garrison knew. This time it was karaoke, and he shook his head a bit, remembering the karaoke stop in the middle of his 'drink all the liquors of the world' bender with Amanda.
He cradled his stump a bit closely and defensively as they approached the cluster of their friends.
"I am starving." Marie-Ange mentioned, half her attention on the group and the other on Doug - he might be up and about, but he was still downing pain medication and a handful of antibiotics on the regular. "My magic eight ball says you want sliders and fries and..." She glanced at the bar. "And a very hipster soda flavoured with vanilla and black cherry."
"That doesn't really narrow it down, just about every hipster soda seems to go black cherry, unless it's a root beer." Doug's stomach growled. Having an actual appetite, and energy levels beyond 'lol no' were nice. "Oh god, I think I want one of every single finger food they have." Being able to pick things up with one hand was definitely a plus right now.
"Well it does make my predictions a lot easier when the flavours are always black cherry, cucumber lime and blood orange." Marie-Ange put her coat and bag down at one of the little tables, and then plucked her wallet from her bag. "Hipsters are predictable, your tastes are predictable, do you want to put in for karaoke, or are you still much too wobbly?"
Doug's eyes rolled up and he sighed. "Blood orange." He knew Angie almost certainly recognized what was coming next, but he was meme trash, and these things just had to be said. "It's fucking red."
Marie-Ange let out a sigh that was equal parts amused and unsurprised. "And yet. That does not answer my question about karaoke and if I should sign you up. It does answer my question about drinks, so I will be right back."
She disappeared off to the bar, returning a few minutes later with Doug's soda, complete with a garnish of blood orange and a sprig of basil sticking out of the straw, and her own glass of wine. "I asked the bartender to hipster it up for you."
His first instinct was to beg off singing. He'd been through a lot. But he also wasn't that overloaded twenty-year-old anymore. He'd tried hiding everything, and it had led to a nervous breakdown that he'd only overcome with a lot of patience and help from the person gently reminding him to not repeat the same mistakes.
"Yeah, sign me up," he told her as he took a long sip of the soda. "But nothing too high speed, I'm still kinda finding my feet."
"Maybe you are still very high on pain killers, but you have both your feet." Marie-Ange said, with a smile that said just how amused she was at herself. "It is your arm you cannot find. I know it is easy to mix those up."
Doug's only reaction was to use the remaining hand in a very pronounced facepalm. "I hate you."
~xxxx~
There was little better than a kickass leather moto jacket and stilettos at a bar. That it was karaoke was just... well, an excuse to drink really. Not that anyone really needed a reason. So long as she didn't get completely shitfaced, it was fine. Coming up to Kyle after getting another drink, she swung a leg over his, sitting facing him in his lap. "We should sing," she proclaimed before taking a sip of her neon drink. There was an umbrella.
"I mean I'm not even drinking tonight but sure." Kyle said, laughing. "I mean, shame's for other people. Might have to be something I can headbang to, cause..." He pointed at his hair, and then pulled the hairtie out of his ponytail. "I mean I haven't cut this in weeks, it's perfect for headbanging, I can't waste it."
"This is my last," Clarice wasn't drunk, but she was on the looser side. Her first drink had been pretty powerful. "No hangover tomorrow for me. I'm an adult!"
Cocking her head to one side, she regarded the little ponytail. "It fits you though. The hair. Headbanging. You've got that vibe," she considered their options.
"Right? I shoulda gone full denim and like, Jon Bon Jovi scarves." Kyle agreed. "Or I should just cut it, because you know what's not delicious? My hair." He shook his hair out, and ran a hand through it. "Kay, what we got for good headbanging music here?"
"Maybe you need more fiber in your diet?" she pondered, teasing. "I mean, there's always the classics, but.... oh I've got it! But it's not a great head banging song. But it's awesome anyways! Cult of Dionysis. It's all, orgies and looking fabulous. Which we are," Clarice flipped her hair and climbed off his lap. Getting off was much less sexy though no less fluid.
Kyle tilted his head for a second, and then pulled out his phone for a quick google. "Oh. I know that one, I think I've got that on vinyl." He glanced down at his t-shirt and jeans. "I dunno if I'm fabulous, but I mean. I do okay."
Making a face at him, Clarice finished her drink quickly,"You're fabulous when you want to be," she pointed out. Fabulousness was not always glitter and bling. Tonight, with her leather and stilettos, she hadn't bothered with a lot of jewelry or other shiny things. There was no need. The metal accents and buckles were really all she needed. "Oooh. Vinyl. You're a hipster."
"Damn right. I have the stupid man bun and everything."
~xxxx~
"Captain and cola please," Darcy said to the bartender, head bobbing absently to the beat of the Macklemore song being sung in the public area. Drink accepted and paid for, she moved back to the private room the group had reserved. An open door produced a particularly shrill high note and feedback as she reached for the room's door, and the resulting flinch had her missing the opening door until she walked straight into a solid form.
"Oh heck, are you okay?"
"Only sodden." Kevin said, looking down at the spreading wet streak down his suit. He was sans tie and hat, which was casual for the man. He pressed his fingers against the stain and then sniffed them. "Rum and coke, I'm guessing? Here, let's get you a replacement."
"A replacement for me and something for you sounds great," Darcy replied, free hand rummaging in her bag and emerging with a small microfiber towel. She handed it over with a grin. "And a way to blot some of the mess from your jacket, at least until we're back and you let me send it off with my dry cleaning."
"I'll take the towel but the dry-cleaning? I never trust a dry cleaner I don't know with my suits." He dabbed at his jacket as they maneuvered back towards the bar. Despite being packed, the bartender immediately pointed them both out and started building new drinks. "So here for the drinks or the music?"
"Little of both, but mostly to socialize. Always surprising how many of my neighbors I still haven't met yet." A swoop of her hands indicated present company. "I recognize faces a bit, but not always names or skills."
"Hmm... ironically, I'm not likely to be helpful with faces." Kevin said. "I work with the folks at Snow Valley, so I'm not in the mansion all that much Doc Grey informed me I would be attending tonight and here I am."
The bartender passed over the drinks and instantly she could tell the smell of hers was slightly different. "I upgraded you to Plantation on me. Even mixing with coke, no one should have to rely on the Captain."
"The think tank? Huh. Had you pegged as more of a PI or Finance type based on the suit, honestly." She took a slow sip of her drink as they walked back to the group. "The Captain's never led me astray before, but the subtle flavor additions are lovely."
"Spy. 48 years with the CIA." He gave her a brief salute with his drink. "And now... I'm not entirely sure how I'd define Snow Valley, but it's definitely some kind of intelligence shop."
"48 years? That's got to be a library's worth of great to exceptionally horrific stories." She gestured to the door, "After you, I'd hate to waste another drink. And since you're particular about your dry cleaning, just leave their name and number with your jacket so I can take care of it. Least I can do for making you smell like inferior rum."
"The rum might help. I think I'm up next." Kevin looked away for a moment and looked back again. What had been an attractive man in his thirties was now a white haired, lantern jawed man that looked vaguely familiar to her. "And, well, the smell will help sell it for the rumour mill."
His cryptic remarks hung there as he walked on to the stage and took the mic as the first bassline came down. His smooth voice was now a rough bark as he sang the first few lines.
"Step right up. Step right up. Step right up. Everyone's a winner. Bargains galore."
A current of whispers flowed through the crowd as quiet exclamations of 'it can't be' and 'I think it's him!' joined a dozen cell phone photos as Kevin continued to work his way through the song.
'Troll,' Darcy thought fondly as she watched him work the crowd. She was plotting something nice as repayment for spilling her drink when 'Shit, I never got Suit Dude's name!'
There was a...sense of synchronicity, as Marie-Ange held the door to the karaoke bar open for Doug. The last time he had been eaten by a techno-organic being with malign intent, it had been...god, had it really been over a decade since the chaos of the attack on New York? Doug was definitely feeling some of the weight of those years.
And yet, for the first time in a long time, he had actual energy and wasn't slowly wasting away. ~A real bargain, too, it didn't cost the leg...~ he thought, a bit of dark humor.
There had been music after Day Zero, but it had been at Harry's, with the pub band Garrison knew. This time it was karaoke, and he shook his head a bit, remembering the karaoke stop in the middle of his 'drink all the liquors of the world' bender with Amanda.
He cradled his stump a bit closely and defensively as they approached the cluster of their friends.
"I am starving." Marie-Ange mentioned, half her attention on the group and the other on Doug - he might be up and about, but he was still downing pain medication and a handful of antibiotics on the regular. "My magic eight ball says you want sliders and fries and..." She glanced at the bar. "And a very hipster soda flavoured with vanilla and black cherry."
"That doesn't really narrow it down, just about every hipster soda seems to go black cherry, unless it's a root beer." Doug's stomach growled. Having an actual appetite, and energy levels beyond 'lol no' were nice. "Oh god, I think I want one of every single finger food they have." Being able to pick things up with one hand was definitely a plus right now.
"Well it does make my predictions a lot easier when the flavours are always black cherry, cucumber lime and blood orange." Marie-Ange put her coat and bag down at one of the little tables, and then plucked her wallet from her bag. "Hipsters are predictable, your tastes are predictable, do you want to put in for karaoke, or are you still much too wobbly?"
Doug's eyes rolled up and he sighed. "Blood orange." He knew Angie almost certainly recognized what was coming next, but he was meme trash, and these things just had to be said. "It's fucking red."
Marie-Ange let out a sigh that was equal parts amused and unsurprised. "And yet. That does not answer my question about karaoke and if I should sign you up. It does answer my question about drinks, so I will be right back."
She disappeared off to the bar, returning a few minutes later with Doug's soda, complete with a garnish of blood orange and a sprig of basil sticking out of the straw, and her own glass of wine. "I asked the bartender to hipster it up for you."
His first instinct was to beg off singing. He'd been through a lot. But he also wasn't that overloaded twenty-year-old anymore. He'd tried hiding everything, and it had led to a nervous breakdown that he'd only overcome with a lot of patience and help from the person gently reminding him to not repeat the same mistakes.
"Yeah, sign me up," he told her as he took a long sip of the soda. "But nothing too high speed, I'm still kinda finding my feet."
"Maybe you are still very high on pain killers, but you have both your feet." Marie-Ange said, with a smile that said just how amused she was at herself. "It is your arm you cannot find. I know it is easy to mix those up."
Doug's only reaction was to use the remaining hand in a very pronounced facepalm. "I hate you."
~xxxx~
There was little better than a kickass leather moto jacket and stilettos at a bar. That it was karaoke was just... well, an excuse to drink really. Not that anyone really needed a reason. So long as she didn't get completely shitfaced, it was fine. Coming up to Kyle after getting another drink, she swung a leg over his, sitting facing him in his lap. "We should sing," she proclaimed before taking a sip of her neon drink. There was an umbrella.
"I mean I'm not even drinking tonight but sure." Kyle said, laughing. "I mean, shame's for other people. Might have to be something I can headbang to, cause..." He pointed at his hair, and then pulled the hairtie out of his ponytail. "I mean I haven't cut this in weeks, it's perfect for headbanging, I can't waste it."
"This is my last," Clarice wasn't drunk, but she was on the looser side. Her first drink had been pretty powerful. "No hangover tomorrow for me. I'm an adult!"
Cocking her head to one side, she regarded the little ponytail. "It fits you though. The hair. Headbanging. You've got that vibe," she considered their options.
"Right? I shoulda gone full denim and like, Jon Bon Jovi scarves." Kyle agreed. "Or I should just cut it, because you know what's not delicious? My hair." He shook his hair out, and ran a hand through it. "Kay, what we got for good headbanging music here?"
"Maybe you need more fiber in your diet?" she pondered, teasing. "I mean, there's always the classics, but.... oh I've got it! But it's not a great head banging song. But it's awesome anyways! Cult of Dionysis. It's all, orgies and looking fabulous. Which we are," Clarice flipped her hair and climbed off his lap. Getting off was much less sexy though no less fluid.
Kyle tilted his head for a second, and then pulled out his phone for a quick google. "Oh. I know that one, I think I've got that on vinyl." He glanced down at his t-shirt and jeans. "I dunno if I'm fabulous, but I mean. I do okay."
Making a face at him, Clarice finished her drink quickly,"You're fabulous when you want to be," she pointed out. Fabulousness was not always glitter and bling. Tonight, with her leather and stilettos, she hadn't bothered with a lot of jewelry or other shiny things. There was no need. The metal accents and buckles were really all she needed. "Oooh. Vinyl. You're a hipster."
"Damn right. I have the stupid man bun and everything."
~xxxx~
"Captain and cola please," Darcy said to the bartender, head bobbing absently to the beat of the Macklemore song being sung in the public area. Drink accepted and paid for, she moved back to the private room the group had reserved. An open door produced a particularly shrill high note and feedback as she reached for the room's door, and the resulting flinch had her missing the opening door until she walked straight into a solid form.
"Oh heck, are you okay?"
"Only sodden." Kevin said, looking down at the spreading wet streak down his suit. He was sans tie and hat, which was casual for the man. He pressed his fingers against the stain and then sniffed them. "Rum and coke, I'm guessing? Here, let's get you a replacement."
"A replacement for me and something for you sounds great," Darcy replied, free hand rummaging in her bag and emerging with a small microfiber towel. She handed it over with a grin. "And a way to blot some of the mess from your jacket, at least until we're back and you let me send it off with my dry cleaning."
"I'll take the towel but the dry-cleaning? I never trust a dry cleaner I don't know with my suits." He dabbed at his jacket as they maneuvered back towards the bar. Despite being packed, the bartender immediately pointed them both out and started building new drinks. "So here for the drinks or the music?"
"Little of both, but mostly to socialize. Always surprising how many of my neighbors I still haven't met yet." A swoop of her hands indicated present company. "I recognize faces a bit, but not always names or skills."
"Hmm... ironically, I'm not likely to be helpful with faces." Kevin said. "I work with the folks at Snow Valley, so I'm not in the mansion all that much Doc Grey informed me I would be attending tonight and here I am."
The bartender passed over the drinks and instantly she could tell the smell of hers was slightly different. "I upgraded you to Plantation on me. Even mixing with coke, no one should have to rely on the Captain."
"The think tank? Huh. Had you pegged as more of a PI or Finance type based on the suit, honestly." She took a slow sip of her drink as they walked back to the group. "The Captain's never led me astray before, but the subtle flavor additions are lovely."
"Spy. 48 years with the CIA." He gave her a brief salute with his drink. "And now... I'm not entirely sure how I'd define Snow Valley, but it's definitely some kind of intelligence shop."
"48 years? That's got to be a library's worth of great to exceptionally horrific stories." She gestured to the door, "After you, I'd hate to waste another drink. And since you're particular about your dry cleaning, just leave their name and number with your jacket so I can take care of it. Least I can do for making you smell like inferior rum."
"The rum might help. I think I'm up next." Kevin looked away for a moment and looked back again. What had been an attractive man in his thirties was now a white haired, lantern jawed man that looked vaguely familiar to her. "And, well, the smell will help sell it for the rumour mill."
His cryptic remarks hung there as he walked on to the stage and took the mic as the first bassline came down. His smooth voice was now a rough bark as he sang the first few lines.
"Step right up. Step right up. Step right up. Everyone's a winner. Bargains galore."
A current of whispers flowed through the crowd as quiet exclamations of 'it can't be' and 'I think it's him!' joined a dozen cell phone photos as Kevin continued to work his way through the song.
'Troll,' Darcy thought fondly as she watched him work the crowd. She was plotting something nice as repayment for spilling her drink when 'Shit, I never got Suit Dude's name!'
