Felicia and Kevin; Harry Halloween
Oct. 31st, 2023 09:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsAs per tradition, Felicia and Kevin pub crawl on the holiest of recovering goth kid days: Halloween. Except this time it's just at Harry's, as he has a contest to win.
Backdated!
Harry's Hideaway was hopping, packed with people in costumes, even braving the patio to huddle under the large gas heaters he installed. Harry's one blind spot was his competition with Gary's Olde Towne Tavern and tonight he had gone all out in order to win a meaningless local paper contest. So, he'd deployed the nuclear option for any bar.
Free chicken wings.
As a result, the place had been packed since noon and showed no signs of slowing once the sun had gone down.
"Harry apparently did know that you can't offer free alcohol as a promotion," Felicia said, sliding back into her seat. Her gold dress fanned out, and nothing but luck was keeping the plunging neckline in place. "He also didn't care about my plea to let me choose which carbs I consume tonight, but he is making me an unbreaded grilled pound with extra hot sauce so. I'm calling that a still got it."
Kevin slid over a martini, just delivered by the waitstaff before taking a sip of his. He smoothed down the lapels of his immaculate black tuxedo with one hand. "I would expect Marilyn Monroe to be able to convince a bartender to provide her with her chicken wings of choice."
Felicia gave him a coy smile, doe eyed over the rim of her glass. "I did indeed. Some like it hot and I'm one of them," she replied, like she hadn't just made the most obvious "she said the thing!". "Thank you, darling."
"Funny story. Did you know that the rumour about Jack Kennedy and Monroe started almost a year before it actually happened?" Kevin said, with a twinkle as he took a sip.
"I love your suit, Mister Bond!" A woman walking by said.
"I'm actually Cole Porter."
"I love his movies too!" She said as she staggered back into the crowd. Kevin gave Felicia a wry smile in response.
Laughing quietly into her martini, Felicia bumped her knee against his. The film connoisseur found herself suddenly distracted by a round of shots no one remembered ordering. "Oh really? By who?"
"CIA. Hoover had a massive hardon about King Jack. Was convinced, correctly, that if he won the election that he'd try and replace him as head of the Bureau. Agency never cared about Kennedy, but Hoover liked to meddle in our work and the Director wanted him compromised. So we planted the story they were screwing, so if Hoover used it, he'd be humiliated and undercut his influence." Kevin took another sip and swirled his glass. "Perfect setup, and then Sinatra goes and invites the both of them to a private party in Vegas ten months later and... well, we all know how that went."
“We do indeed,” Felicia murmured, her jaw moving in something like a wince. She sighed, shifted, the gold shimmering even in the low lights. “I don’t have anything poignant to say about it, really. I guess it’s difficult to let those we’ve built up just live.”
"Then Hoover made up some bullshit about a secret 'red diary' floating around to try and pin her death on the Agency." Kevin shook his head. "We deal in secrets and it is easy to forget that everyone has them, and the truth is always a lot more complicated than we like to think."
Felicia smiled without any mirth, closing her eyes under the pretend of particularly enjoying her gin. "Too deep, darling. Too deep- Harry!" she exclaimed, face utterly transforming at the approach of the bartender with her wings. "You absolute love."
"See, he gets 'love' for some chicken wings and I don't even come close."
"I'm prettier." Harry rumbled as he dropped off her wings with a warm fatherly smile. Kevin gave his back a bemused smile.
"OK, been put firmly into my place."
"I mean, he also has a point," Felicia replied, stone cold, before taking a large chunk out of her flat, her lipstick somehow still impeccable even as she licked the hot sauce from the corner of her lips. "I'll call you love only when you want it and you deserve it, and you have neither."
"So you aren't going to sing me happy birthday this year? I'm crushed. Crush-" He said as a badly dressed Shrek pumped into him.
"Sorry man. Cool costume. Who are you?"
"Dean Martin."
"Oh, I love 'Only Murders In The Building'!" He said before stumbling off.
Felicia's lips pursed, trying very hard to look serious as she nodded. Across the room, Shrek also had shots he didn't order suddenly delivered to him, as was the will of Felicia's merciless nature and the universe. "Mmm. I mean. Do you want to have to hear my rant about Kim Kardashian destroying that dress again? Because that will be involved."
"Hmm? I missed that." Kevin said, taking a sip. "What happened?"
"MET gala last year, a celebrity decided she needed to wear Marilyn's Happy Birthday dress. It is currently owned by a private collector, who approved it, despite the fact that it's a piece of history, custom made for a very specific woman, height, size, colouring, situation..." Felicia started, fingernails angrily tapping on the table as she ranted. "The dress was damaged - there's some debate about whether or not it was her but come on - and for what? The dress was made for Marilyn! They hand dyed the fabric so it would exactly match her skin tone, the whole point of the dress was for her to look basically naked except coated in diamonds."
"Kim has all the money, she could have recreated the gown but in her size and with the right colouring. It could have been historical but no, wearing an original piece of fucking art for clout was more important."
Kevin was silent for a long moment. "So, Nora inside is twitching hard right now. I somehow missed that. And- why? I mean, fuck them, but why?"
Felicia shrugged, taking another angry chomp out of her flat, ripping the two bones apart. "I almost stole it back afterwards but I'd have to hire a different team for conserving it properly, mine doesn't have the experience. Also, girl date this month? Send me your calendar, I need a new pair of leather leggings and I trust her opinion on my ass more somehow."
"Fair. I mean, I do test anything I send you with your ass." Kevin gave her a grin, almost boyish in nature. "It's a pretty good ass, you know."
"Love. You say the sweetest things," Felicia demured, throwing a small clean carcass aside with a sharp smile.
Backdated!
Harry's Hideaway was hopping, packed with people in costumes, even braving the patio to huddle under the large gas heaters he installed. Harry's one blind spot was his competition with Gary's Olde Towne Tavern and tonight he had gone all out in order to win a meaningless local paper contest. So, he'd deployed the nuclear option for any bar.
Free chicken wings.
As a result, the place had been packed since noon and showed no signs of slowing once the sun had gone down.
"Harry apparently did know that you can't offer free alcohol as a promotion," Felicia said, sliding back into her seat. Her gold dress fanned out, and nothing but luck was keeping the plunging neckline in place. "He also didn't care about my plea to let me choose which carbs I consume tonight, but he is making me an unbreaded grilled pound with extra hot sauce so. I'm calling that a still got it."
Kevin slid over a martini, just delivered by the waitstaff before taking a sip of his. He smoothed down the lapels of his immaculate black tuxedo with one hand. "I would expect Marilyn Monroe to be able to convince a bartender to provide her with her chicken wings of choice."
Felicia gave him a coy smile, doe eyed over the rim of her glass. "I did indeed. Some like it hot and I'm one of them," she replied, like she hadn't just made the most obvious "she said the thing!". "Thank you, darling."
"Funny story. Did you know that the rumour about Jack Kennedy and Monroe started almost a year before it actually happened?" Kevin said, with a twinkle as he took a sip.
"I love your suit, Mister Bond!" A woman walking by said.
"I'm actually Cole Porter."
"I love his movies too!" She said as she staggered back into the crowd. Kevin gave Felicia a wry smile in response.
Laughing quietly into her martini, Felicia bumped her knee against his. The film connoisseur found herself suddenly distracted by a round of shots no one remembered ordering. "Oh really? By who?"
"CIA. Hoover had a massive hardon about King Jack. Was convinced, correctly, that if he won the election that he'd try and replace him as head of the Bureau. Agency never cared about Kennedy, but Hoover liked to meddle in our work and the Director wanted him compromised. So we planted the story they were screwing, so if Hoover used it, he'd be humiliated and undercut his influence." Kevin took another sip and swirled his glass. "Perfect setup, and then Sinatra goes and invites the both of them to a private party in Vegas ten months later and... well, we all know how that went."
“We do indeed,” Felicia murmured, her jaw moving in something like a wince. She sighed, shifted, the gold shimmering even in the low lights. “I don’t have anything poignant to say about it, really. I guess it’s difficult to let those we’ve built up just live.”
"Then Hoover made up some bullshit about a secret 'red diary' floating around to try and pin her death on the Agency." Kevin shook his head. "We deal in secrets and it is easy to forget that everyone has them, and the truth is always a lot more complicated than we like to think."
Felicia smiled without any mirth, closing her eyes under the pretend of particularly enjoying her gin. "Too deep, darling. Too deep- Harry!" she exclaimed, face utterly transforming at the approach of the bartender with her wings. "You absolute love."
"See, he gets 'love' for some chicken wings and I don't even come close."
"I'm prettier." Harry rumbled as he dropped off her wings with a warm fatherly smile. Kevin gave his back a bemused smile.
"OK, been put firmly into my place."
"I mean, he also has a point," Felicia replied, stone cold, before taking a large chunk out of her flat, her lipstick somehow still impeccable even as she licked the hot sauce from the corner of her lips. "I'll call you love only when you want it and you deserve it, and you have neither."
"So you aren't going to sing me happy birthday this year? I'm crushed. Crush-" He said as a badly dressed Shrek pumped into him.
"Sorry man. Cool costume. Who are you?"
"Dean Martin."
"Oh, I love 'Only Murders In The Building'!" He said before stumbling off.
Felicia's lips pursed, trying very hard to look serious as she nodded. Across the room, Shrek also had shots he didn't order suddenly delivered to him, as was the will of Felicia's merciless nature and the universe. "Mmm. I mean. Do you want to have to hear my rant about Kim Kardashian destroying that dress again? Because that will be involved."
"Hmm? I missed that." Kevin said, taking a sip. "What happened?"
"MET gala last year, a celebrity decided she needed to wear Marilyn's Happy Birthday dress. It is currently owned by a private collector, who approved it, despite the fact that it's a piece of history, custom made for a very specific woman, height, size, colouring, situation..." Felicia started, fingernails angrily tapping on the table as she ranted. "The dress was damaged - there's some debate about whether or not it was her but come on - and for what? The dress was made for Marilyn! They hand dyed the fabric so it would exactly match her skin tone, the whole point of the dress was for her to look basically naked except coated in diamonds."
"Kim has all the money, she could have recreated the gown but in her size and with the right colouring. It could have been historical but no, wearing an original piece of fucking art for clout was more important."
Kevin was silent for a long moment. "So, Nora inside is twitching hard right now. I somehow missed that. And- why? I mean, fuck them, but why?"
Felicia shrugged, taking another angry chomp out of her flat, ripping the two bones apart. "I almost stole it back afterwards but I'd have to hire a different team for conserving it properly, mine doesn't have the experience. Also, girl date this month? Send me your calendar, I need a new pair of leather leggings and I trust her opinion on my ass more somehow."
"Fair. I mean, I do test anything I send you with your ass." Kevin gave her a grin, almost boyish in nature. "It's a pretty good ass, you know."
"Love. You say the sweetest things," Felicia demured, throwing a small clean carcass aside with a sharp smile.
