ArchivedLogs:Smells Like Coffee

Smells Like Coffee
Dramatis Personae Corey, Eric, Jackson, Shelby	2013-04-19 Coffee, Dancing, Flirtation and Jealousy
Location <NYC> Heaven - Chelsea
This Chelsea playground offers a divinely gay twist to the normal concept of the afterlife. On the first floor, you can avoid the masses on the dance floor and lounge on comfortable couches in the all-white Ethereal Bar or cross over to the similarly pearly Celestial Lounge to dance beneath the sparkling fractured-mirror decor that turns the entire floor into a glittering paradise. Purgatory is in the back, descending a few steps from Heaven to a subdued karaoke lounge. For those who have a taste for something more than the brightly frosted wonderland with its bubblegum pop music, a flame-licked stairway carries you upstairs, where Hell inexplicably sits above Heaven, all dominatrix-black with patent-leather couches and glowing red lights. Intermittently along the walls are images of those who - through the owners' wishful thinking - are burning in eternal fire: the likenesses of various noted social conservatives are not uncommon. The DJ here spins heavier music and on the dance floor, among the crush of scantily clad bodies and less-than-legal stimulants to keep them dancing all night long, anything goes. Late Friday night and the music in Heaven is loud and thumping. It's loud and thumping in Hell, too, upstairs, and the dance floor is packed. Largely a female crowd on Friday nights, it nevertheless holds a fair sprinkling of regulars; still, the largely queer-woman ladies' night crowd means that tonight Jax is not dressing as much to tantalize as just to /sparkle/. Shiny silver sleeveless top, glittering black pants, black makeup that sparkles with rainbowy glitter. His hair is black, tipped in red, and he is currently occupied washing a few glasses because the two female bartenders behind the bar with him are getting far more mobbed with requests than he is. That seems to suit him fine, though, smile on his face and his head kind of bobbing along to the music. Shelby has no interest in the fairer of the sexes. She may not have even remembered that it was ladies night. The ginger teen is here for one thing and one thing alone--dancing. Of course, show up in Heaven on ladies night wearing a mid-thigh length dress of sea-green, with your hair braided back from your face and an innocent's makeup on, and attention will be had. Nevermind that she /deliberately/ chose to keep her old Converse sneakers on, a clear sign that she's here to boogie and not hook up. No, no one's exactly looking at her feet as she performs shoulder-to-hip rolls and hip-pops on the dancefloor. After one stray touch too many, the girl retreats scowling to the bar area--only to get trapped in the three-deep crowd there waiting for drinks. "Son of a bitch." Going to Heaven required the proper attire, and as the good boy that he is, Corey was dressed all in white, making his blond hair even more fitting. A tight white teeshirt was practically painted onto his muscular chest, and a pair of white denim jeans were at least of a reasonable fit, because tight pants were horrible. All in all he just wanted to not stand out, so he assumed that would be the best choice. Moving around the dance floor though, he was checking things out more than dancing yet, first moments in a place being educational. Eric's clothing does not put him either in Heaven or in Hell, really, but that may be due more to its simplicity than anything else. His jeans are black to match his belt. His shirt is a near-black affair that has a dark sparkle to it somehow embedded into the cloth. Glitter, or the fabric itself? Someone has carefully cut out the sides of the skin-tight shirt in a long lens shape, and cut swirling patterns into the back and front, securing the cuts with stitching that looks quite well-made. As Eric steps through the crowd of women, it doesn't seem to bother him that so very few seem interested in him in the least. Nor is his progress particularly impeded;he, at least, has +1 to Touch Shield, at least on ladies night. A wide smile spreads on his face as he looks through the crowd, making his way easily through it on his way to the bar. Being able to see over people's heads helps. There is a deep crowd by the female bartenders, alright, but Jax is -- largely slacking. He pours a beer for one person. Returns to washing glasses and setting them away. Eventually mixes a vodka tonic for another. And then just settles down against the bar to /laze/ -- or to people watch, eyebrows lifting when first Shelby and then Eric approach his /territory/. His smile curls reflexively across his face, warm enough if sort of customer-service automatic. He picks up a pen from behind the bar, uncapping it to absently flip over a paper coaster and start doodling. Even while he leans across the bar to say, loud to carry over the thumping music, "I mix drinks just as good as them, y'know." This might be to Eric, most /likely/; he's kind of absently watching Shelby, too, though. Even a smiling Jax isn't quite enough to lure Shelby over immediately. She hesitates, eyeing him the same way some might watch a goose whose territory they'd wandered into. But as Eric drifts into her line of sight, she determines her chances are all right--he's big enough to act as a meatshield, after all. Over she sidles, though she immediately puts her back to the bar, elbows on the edge and gaze cast out into the crowd. Corey's spotted then, his progress idly tracked. "Don't get you'd serve me a /real/ drink." The benefits of tallness were strong in this one, and it was to faces he recognized that Corey's eyes darted to. Mel's friend was here, but it was to Jax that he started moving towards, since he actually knew the man's name. Being bumped into didn't seem to bother him, and a smile was passed to each person who managed to press against him. Ending up where everyone else was pointed it seemed, he nodded to Shelby, then looked to Jax as he called out the drink offer. "Then I can get it from you. If what you mix is half as good as your cookies, I will never have a complaint." Giving him a grin, he thought a moment, then shrugged. "Your decision, I'll trust you to be gentle my first time here." Horrible thing to say, he probably didn't even realize it. When Eric spots Jax, his smile widens, and he manages to move through the press of the crowd. Gentle pushing may be involved, just to get around the herd in front of the female bartenders to the gap in front of Jax. He heads over to lean against the counter, even as his eyes light on Shelby. He gives her a nod and a little smile. "Heya, Jax." he says, reaching into his pocket and tugging out three cards to spread out on the counter for Jax. Two of them are IDs - one is his driver's license, the other his NYPD ID - and the third is a credit card. "Can I have a rum and coke, darlin'?" he asks, looking at Corey. Looking up and down Corey, more accurately, a quick flick of his eyes and a slight widening of his smile. "Don't worry. We're all here to keep you company through your quiet night at work." he teases, lightly. "Hi, Corey!" Jackson chirrups this brightly; its equally bright when he asks, "ID?" He's picking up Eric's though the ID's only lget a cursory glance; he already /knows/ the man. He hangs onto the credit card, though: "You want I should open a tab for you?" He's leaning across the bar, a little closer to Shelby, to say -- just as bright -- "Sorry, honey, can't really hear you when you ain't facing me." Because /loud/. Lipreading is a crucial skill for bartenders. His cheeks flush deep at Corey's comment, his nose crinkling up. "-- I mix good. I'll be gentle. And I'm sure glad for the company, Thursdays and Saturdays I'm run ragged but Fridays I spent half m'time /doodling/." The teenager does turn but as soon as she spies the IDs in Jax's hand, she grimaces. This...will not be a drinking night for Shelby. "Nevermind," she grumbles. Her arms fold against the counter, her head drops and turns and she sizes up both dudes before it--one in black, one in white. Up go the eyebrows, thankfully erasing any hint of sullen. "Jesus...you guys plan looking like that?" Leaning in to hear the words coming from Jackson's mouth, Corey nodded in understanding as he pulled his wallet from front pocket, and handed Jax his ID and a twenty. "Hrm, well at least you wont be running ragged tonight. Perhaps we'll people you up at least." If nothing else they could probably draw some extra looks in the direction, and as Shelby queried the plan, he smiled. "Well, I figured I was coming to Heaven, so I wanted to fit in. Too much white?" he asked, not sure if all of it had ended up over done with his coloration. "Sure, why not?" Eric asks, picking the IDs back up off of the table and sliding them back into a pants pocket. He gives a little shrug and a broad smile. "I just got paid." he turns to glance between Shelby and Corey, one eyebrow raising. "You two know each other? We've never met; hard to plan with someone you've never talked to." he drawls, in that same thick accent that Jax has. He extends a hand to Corey, smile bright and mischievous. "Eric." "Eric, Shelby, Corey," Jax introduces the three of them. He hands Corey his ID back, too, and steps back to lay glasses on the bar, mix Eric's rum and coke. He puts the credit card away into a drawer full of them, alphabetized, and slides the drink across the bar to Eric. "Psh, naw, you look gorgeous. White's thematic. Well, OK, thematic downstairs, but even Hell's full'a /fallen/ angels, right? -- 'kai get you something, Shelby?" He is asking this while mixing a second drink; vodka, cranberry juice, twist of lime. "Saw him earlier," Shelby says with a tilt of her head towards Corey, "guess he's working for Montagues. He makes good sandwiches." Her lips curl in a faint smile--or maybe it only looks faint by comparison, side by side with the sparkle everyone else is giving off. She drops her chin into one cupped palm to observe the drink making, eyes flicking back and forth. Hope springs eternal... "Rum'n'coke?" "I made her a sandwich earlier." Corey said at the same time that Shelbs was describing it. Accepting Erics hand as Jackson provided introductions, he took the id back with his other hand and shoved it into his back pocket. "Pleasure to meet you too. If nothing else this club is very pretty, though its very easy to lose people in the colors." It was a lot to take in after all, and his gaze was slowly surveying the populace. "Copycat." Eric says to Shelby, picking up his drink and grinning at her. He takes a long sip of it and then places it back down on the counter, letting out a long sigh of pleasure as he starts to sink down on the stool beside him. He thinks better of it a moment later, though, and pulls the knapkin from underneath his drink to wipe it down, first. "It's good to meet ya, Corey." he says, brightly. He looks between Corey and Shelby, before he refocuses his eyes on Jax. Flick down, flick up. Jackson blushes fiercely under Eric's flick of gaze. He sets Corey's drink down in front of him, a little wedge of lime on the rim of the glass. "Oh, yeah," he says, but now his smile is curling a /little/ wider as he looks over Eric and Corey, "this club's real pretty." He props his palm against the surface of the bar, his other hand reaching below it for another glass. "-- Hoooow 'bout a coke," he says to Shelby, wryly. "I like that dress. Mmnh. Think I might take a turn on the dancefloor soon enough, I'm due a break. -- Woah, Mel's place?" This makes his eyebrows lift. "Small world." "It's only copying if he /serves/ me," Shelby points out at Eric, rumpling her nose at him. She takes the refusal from Jackson with decent grace--having not gotten her hopes up in the first place--but does turn away again to press her elbows against the bar. "S'dangerous out there," she remarks, on the subject of dancing. "Maybe not if you have a dick though." Accepting the beverage with the lime, Corey tweaked the lime with amusement before taking a swig. "Hrm, not bad, thanks." Gracing Jax with a grin, he looked towards the complaining Shelby contemplatively, then looked back to Jax to answer. "Yeah it hasn't been that long. But its really nice there, and it makes me smell like coffee the rest of the day. So really, who can complain?" Still though, looking back to Shelby, and putting on his best safe guy smile, he offered her a hand. "I'm sure with the three of us around you, you'll be perfectly safe." Yep, he totally just volunteered all of them, and he hadn't even planned it. "I was just fine, and gettin' through crowds can be a dicey affair if I don't use my elbows, usually." Eric says, demonstratively wiggling his elbows in Shelby's face. He sticks out his tongue then grins, turning to give Corey, Jax, and Shelby a warm, teasing smile. "I dunno. Maybe I just came in lookin' ugly today, and tha's why." He runs a hand up and down, like some kind of perverted Vanna White. "What'da you think?" he asks, essentially to them all, though his eyes lock on Jax's and twinkle. "Gettin' through fine tonight," Jackson tells Eric lightly, "cuz tonight you ain't really the /type/'a most everyone here. Imagine Shelby's gettin' it a lot worse. You should stick with, like a /bodyguard/." He puts some ice in a glass, fills it up with coke, and sets it on a coaster (the one he'd been doodling on; it bears an image of a helicoper with dragonfly wings as its rotor.) He leans across the bar after this, closer to Corey to /sniff/ at the air. In case coffee. "It's a nice place. Mel's good people, too." "Duuuh, Eric, I said maybe not if you've got a /dick/. I'm guessing you still do? Didn't lose it or anything?" This is said archly, while Shelby deliberately aims a look down at poor Eric's crotch. There is more mischief than malice in the inquiry, thank goodness. She reaches for the Coke, or starts to, when she spies Corey's outstretched hand. Again, the hesitation--this complete with a brief but distinctly wary look, less innocent and /far/ more street savvy. "You angling for a foursome? Or just a dance?" Looking to Eric analytically, he nodded abit. "No, I don't think anything is wrong. You may just be projecting /Cop/, I'm not sure how, but sometimes people can just tell from body posture." Corey was probably projecting easy mark or victim, but it was just something about him even with his size. And there was truth in advertising as he did in fact smell of coffee. "Just offering to let you get what you came here for," he said gesturing to her converses. "You did come here to dance after all, yes?" Eric pats his crotch, twice. "Nope, still there." he drawls, picking up his glass to take another sip of his drink. He nearly snorts some of it when Shelby asks Corey the Question of the Evening, lowering the glass and wiping a few drops that cling to his lips off of his face as he chuckles and shakes his head. "Careful, you might kill the poor man." he winks at Shelby, giving her a teasing look, as he turns to grin at Corey. "Oh, I may look like a 'cop', but trust me, darlin', that doesn't usually make things /worse/ for me when I come here not on ladies night." "You smell good," Jackson comments absently to Corey, and when he is done delivering this information he delivers /change/ for Corey's twenty. "Some guys dig the uniform thing." He shrugs a shoulder like he doesn't really /get/ this. His cheeks have coloured somewhat at the inquiry about whether Eric still has all his parts attached. He returns to cleaning up, somewhat /fiercely/, scrubbing glasses somewhat too intently. Cheeks still red, his tone is at least light when he speaks. "Some people just want t'dance, Shelby." Shelby lifts her foot to turn it this way and that, as if the sneakers were something to show off. The dress might have earned Jax's earlier compliment. The footwear certainly does /not/. "I guess, sure," she says after brief glances at both Eric and Jackson. "But you watch where you put your hands, huh? I'm like a ninja, one wrong move and pew pew." She may or may not be mixing up her genre threats, but it is done with a grin. Waving off the change, Corey shook his head. "Keep the tip. You said you don't get much business Fridays." Shrugging, he did at least grin at the smelling good comment. "I bet you could market a cologne that smells like it. It would certainly draw the attention of an interesting audience." Nodding at that, his ass started buzzing, and he let out a sigh. Pulling the phone out and seeing who it was, there was a minute bit of consternation, and he glanced to the others. "I need to go take this. I'll have to take a raincheck on the dance." Putting the phone to his ear, he started out to the door so he'd have somewhere to hear. Smirking, Eric gives Shelby a wink. "I won't put my hands anywhere I shouldn't." he says, innocently. He turns to glance back at Jax and Corey, one eyebrow raising. As Corey apologizes and ducks out, he gives a little wave, and calls after him, "Come back and dance with me sometime!" Then he turns back to Jax. His eyes dance over the bartender, and his smile twists to an expression of mischief. "Come on, Jax. Come dance with us. For once, you won't have to worry about the crowd's wandering hands." he says, picking up his drink and draining it down to the ice cubes with a quick gulp. He says nothing about his own. "Woah, hey, thanks!" Jax flashes Corey a bright smile, pocketing the large tip. He answers Eric's mischievous smile with a crooked one. "Yeah? An' what about /your/ wandering hands?" His tone is light, and he shakes his head, settling back to glance to another waiting person nearby. "Sorry," he says apologetically to both of them, "I might hold off on that break. Y'all have fun." "Yeah right, dude." When Corey leaves, Shelby makes a face--in spite of her initial wariness, she /is/ here to dance. And now she is left with...Eric and Jackson. One of whom has just reneged on the break and dance, while the other feasts on him visually. Awkward all around! Her grin reappears and under the heavenly light, it is almost perfect! Except her jaw is set rather stiffly. "S'okay," she says as she reaches into the bodice of her dress and fishes out a fiver to lay on the bar for the coke. Pardon, if it's a little sweaty. "I'll take my chances with the lesbians." Snaring the tip of the teeny tiny straw between her lips, she ambles away from the bar, back into the crowd. Eric raises his hands above his head, innocently, though he smirks a wide smile at Jax. "I can keep my hands to myself, if that's what you want." he drawls, eyes twinkling. When the bartender waves off, he gives a little shrug. "Alright. If that's what you want." he says. "I'll be here all night. Got a lot of dancin' to do." With that, he waves his fingers in a surprisingly gay fashion, then sets back out into the crowd. "Hey, Shelby, wait up!" Jackson's own smile is bright. Easy. But then, it always is. He watches the others head off, and then slips down the bar to continue working. Shelby doesn't get far--lotsa lesbians up in here don'tcha know--but when her name is called, she stops to half-turn. And then ends up blinking to see Eric cruising up on her position. "Wuh?" she inquires around the straw, still sucking down Coke like someone who's just spent the last few hours boogying. She looks him over, flicks a look by him at the bar and Jax, then lifts her eyebrows at the cop again. "You're not mackin' on him?" "He's workin'." Eric says, putting a hand on Shelby's shoulder and squeezing it once with a bright smile. "And I want to dance." He gestures to the dance floor, one eyebrow raising and his eyes twinkling. "Come on. Let's go dance." he says, flicking his eyes up and down Shelby. "I promise to keep my hands to myself." "Dude, you are the /shittiest/ liar. I mean, c'mon. You're really gonna go out on that dancefloor with me and /not/ try to make the ladies jealous?" Shelby's confusion is quick to shift to crooked amusement--but she doesn't shrug his hand off. Instead she takes an extra large swallow of the soda--owowow eyes watering--then sets the glass aside on a table and aims herself towards the dance floor. "I only told the other guy that 'cause I didn't know him," she remarks as she goes. "/You/ I've seen mostly naked." "Only mostly." Eric adds, walking closely beside Shelby. When they reach the press of the dance floor, his height and imposing glances help clear them a path into the dance floor. "I would if you wanted me to." he says, innocently enough, as he begins to move his body to the music. He winks and flashes Shelby a teasing smile. "But I'm very much up for makin' them jealous." "You're allll about the consent, huh?" Shelby's smile twists to something less innocent, making a good match for the way she eels closer to Eric once he's cleared them some space. She turns her back to him though because...well. The dance calls for it? Teasing? Or it could be she's just keeping an eye out for any dirty looks, or more subtle displays of jealousy. Hey, everyone needs an ego boost now and then. "C'mon then," she calls, chin to shoulder as she rocks to the beat, "show me what you got." "Consent is important," Eric drawls, and he is pressed up behind Shelby a few moments after she calls. His dancing is experienced, to be sure, matching the sense of rhythm well. His hands move first from Shelby's shoulders down her sides to settle loosely at her hips. His arms brush against Shelby's arms, and his chest presses against Shelby's back. There's something to be said for just moving. Shelby tilts her head and lifts one arm, reaching back to curl her fingers against the nape of his neck. The others settle over the hand on her hip. And then there is only dancing, a glorious wealth of music and movement and flashing lights. And /so/ many jealous looks.