ArchivedLogs:Pick-Up Lines

Pick-Up Lines
Dramatis Personae Regan, Remy	2013-06-14 '
Location <NYC> Blue Note Jazz Club
The Blue Note touts itself as one of the world's most popular jazz venues and it has the atmosphere to back that up. The drinks are strong, the tables are comfortable and they book some of the best to justify their high entrance fee. Lighting is low, with the stage serving as the rightful focal point. The long bar is also lit in varying shades of blue, gold and pink. Servers circulate constantly and the room is never, ever quiet. The city has been riddled with tension this week; reports of escalated violence, vandalism, police beating mutants or standing back and not interfering when humans do the same. Reports of escalated mutant violence in retaliation. But that's out /there/. In here there is a cool escape from the atmosphere outside, this evening. The chic-dressed patrons are here to enjoy the mood and the music and the quiet buzz of conversation that is layered beneath the lively strains of the band playing and the sultry notes of the woman singing onstage. Regan looks cool-chic to fit, today, blonde hair hanging straight to her bare shoulders, her dress an elegant midnight blue halter, matching strappy heeled sandals on her feet. She is engaging in no conversation; she has a martini glass in front of her, near empty, and a tablet computer that she /was/ rather focused on, though her focus has currently drifted. Watching the woman on stage, a little distant-distracted in expression. Her long legs are crossed at the knee, one foot bobbing in time to the singing. Remy for his part has abandoned his clasic look of torn jeans and t-shirt and old duster for an Armani silk suit, dark sunglasses... and an old duster. He takes a sip from a glass of scotch, also watching the show and only a table away. It's the motion of the leg that attracts him, and a slow smile comes to his lips as he follows the ankle up as far as decency would allow then smirks. He leans over and asks in a soft voice, "C'n Ah buy yah a drink chere? Regan glances, first, back down to her tablet with these words. Her fingers tap against its screen, closing one window (a terminal, filled with lines of code), bringing up another (a browser! Homepage'd to slashdot) before looking over at Remy. "I'm sorry, what was that?" It's a polite quiet tone to match her polite quite smile, blue eyes flicking over Remy appraisingly. Remy smiles a little bit, tilting his head some and examineing her with a slow grin. "Ah asked if yah'd let me buy yah a drink," He says with a bit of a grin, "It's de mos' common way foh a man in dis type of enviromen' ta strike up a conversation wit' a beautiful woman." Regan's lips twitch upwards just a little bit more. For a second, at least, and then she reaches to curl her fingers around the stem of her glass, lifting it to drain what little remains of her martini. "That it is, I suppose." There's a note of amusement in her quiet contralto. "I was drinking," she tips the glass back enough to send one of the almonds nestled in its bottom rolling between deep red lips to crunch it in half, "almond martinis." The Cajun signals the waiter, ordering another almond martini for her and a scotch on the rocks for himself before moving over to join her at her table. "So what a lovely femme like yah self doin' drinkin' alone on a Friday nigh', hmm?" "Enjoying the music," Regan answers, with her empty glass tipping over towards the singer. "She's excellent. But they usually are, here." She sets the empty glass back down, fingers swiping over her screen as she glances back to her browser. Idly paging through the news, at least which parts of it slashdot sees fit to report. "I had work to get done. For all the noise, this is often a great place to think." Remy smiles a bit, tilting his head some. "Ah do 'ope dat Ah'm not interupting den." he says with a light smirk, eyes hidden behind those dark glasses but likely very amused... "De name is Remy by de way. Remy LeBeau." "If I really didn't want /any/ interruptions, I'd work back at home." Regan's eyes lift, looking over Remy again with a sidelong slant of eyes. "Regan." She doesn't offer a last name though the first name does come with a small smile. "You're -- definitely not from around here." Remy smirks a bit playfully, "Is dat a bad t'ing chere?" he asks with a bit of amusement in his voice, a bit of gentle challange in his voice, "Yah don' strike me as de type of girl who likes de same t'ing again an' again..." "I'm hardly a native, either." Regan lifts a shoulder. Her hand lifts, tucking blonde hair behind one ear; a tiny diamond stud gleams in her earlobe. Her eyebrows lift at his comment, though, and there's definite amusement continuing in her voice: "Really, now? What kind of girl do I strike you as, then?" Remy smirks a little tilting his head and considering for a moment. "Strong." He says after a moment, "One dat know 'er own mind and not afraid ta make a point of it. Yah know yah beautiful an' are not ashamed of de fact. Yah more den 'appy ta let yah looks render a man ta goo, but not de type ta cheapen yah body as ta use it as a bargining tool." He sips his scotch as the witress brings their fresh drinks. "Educated, but also world savvy. Yah nobody's fool, but yah not afraid ta dream a little... How am Ah doin' so far chere?" "You've decided all that in two minutes?" Regan's lips are still curled up into a smile. She takes the drink with a nod of thanks to the waitress. The glass is lifted to Remy in quiet salute before she takes a drink. "So far you sound --" She sets the glass down, eyes shifting back to the singer. Then back to Remy. "-- Rather like a man who'll say whatever you think I want to hear," finishes in the edge of a laugh. "I could easily picture you saying exactly the same to any other woman with a pretty face and expensive dress sitting in this seat." Remy laughs a little, neither confirming nor denying that fact. "Yah've 'eard all de lines, even de bad ones.." he gives her an apprasing glance, actully yah respect de guys willin' ta use de bad ones even more." "I hear a lot," Regan allows. Her legs uncross, and recross in the opposite direction. "Respect," she echoes this thoughtfully. "It takes a good deal more than flirting to buy /respect/. Let's settle for -- entertained, right now, hm? But --" She gestures with her glass around the club. "Entertainment /is/ what I'm here for. What brought you, tonight?" Remy shrugs slightly, a bit of a smile on his face, "De trut'?" he shrugs "I'm from Nawlins, love Jazz. Not ta mention it is bot' de one year anniversery of mah wedding, an' de one year anniversery of mah divorce. Ah'm celibrating a little." "New Orleans," Regan definitely does not pronounce this like a native, but she does say it with a hint of appreciation. "I've only visited. Wonderful place, though. I'd go just for the food; the atmosphere's an added bonus." Her leg is back to bouncing, gently in time with the beat. "One year anniversary of /both/? What was this, a Vegas wedding?" Remy smirks a little bit, "What it is chere is a very long story, an' not de best one ta tell on a first meeting non?" he asks with a bit of wry amusement. "Sufice it ta say, de day went ta shit damn quick." "An odd thing to bring up on a first meeting, yes." Regan offers this agreement with a small smirk of her own; it fades when she takes another drink. "So what's it that brought you to the city?" Remy smirks a little bit, "Same story Ah'm afraid chere." he says with a bit of a shrug. "When it was all said an' don' Remy jus' needed a completely new change of scenery, yah know?" he shrugs a little. "New York ain' dat bad. Yah got Blizzards instead of 'Uricanes. "Same story." Regan's eyes turn back to the stage, head tipping in a nod. "The one you shouldn't be telling. This past year," her tone lightens with this, "we've had both. Like a little taste of home mixed in with the snow. How's the new scenery been treating you?" Remy shrugs a little bit, amused that he's managed to get put so far off his game by this woman. "It's not so bad, like Ah said, jus' a mattah of adapting non? An' Ah gotta admit, dis city got everyt'ing a man coul' need, non?" "That depends on the man, I'd suppose." Regan's smile is still easy, though her attention fixes on the singer with clear enjoyment of the music. "It certainly does have a lot to offer, though. Good music, good food, a lot of culture. Beatings in the streets. What more could one ask for?" Remy chuckles a bit at that last part, "Why shoul' LA 'ave all de fun in dat department, non?" he asks amused, watching the singer as well for a few moments, then rubbing his eyes under those dark sunglasses, though he doesn't take them off. "Fun." Regan's eyes slice sideways, taking in Remy in silence. "Why, indeed." It's a soft murmur. She takes a long sip of her drink, and rattles an almond up out of the glass to chew it over slowly. "Well, Remy LeBeau, my thanks. For the drink. Enjoy your, ah --" Her lips twitch, slightly, as she shuts her tablet off to slip it into a large silver purse by her chair. "Anniversary." Remy nods slightly, tallying the points as it were in his head and knowing he is /severly/ lacking. Still he shrugs, "Maybe Ah see yah arroun' 'ere again sometime, non? "Very possibly. The music here is excellent." Regan's smile is warm as she rises smoothly to her feet. She shoulders her bag, smoothing her dress downwards. "Goodnight, Remy." She pushes her chair in neatly, slipping between the tables with a smooth stride on her way out.