maskormenacelogs | 'When it comes to wine, women and song...'

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'When it comes to wine, women and song...'

WHO: Rincewind, Harley, & demon Dean the party-crashing king
WHERE: The Moolah Rouge, Maurtia Falls
WHEN: June 3rd
WHAT: Rincewind and Harley enjoy ~~abusing Jeff Winger's credit card~~ a date night and gain an unexpected third wheel.
WARNINGS: Probably language and sexual innuendo. ...But mostly hilarity and failure.
-

Oh, that's - oh, she's very, um - she's very - oh that paint really isn't covering much of anything. I mean, I - I enjoy glitter as much as the next wizard, but it can't make up for proper clothing. And is that man going to - w-where are those feathers even coming from? - Oh gods, oh gods, never mind, forget I asked!

[Rincewind buries his face in his wine glass, yanking his hat down in some sad attempt to hide how very pink the whole of his face has become. This is not what he thought burlesque meant, when Dorian suggested the venue to him. He'd thought - well, he'd thought it sounded rather fancy and thus suitably expensive for a night he wasn't paying for. Dinner was certainly both, which the wizard hoped Harley enjoyed as much as he did. - And the Luggage, for that matter, who cleared their leftovers at the restaurant and is currently hiding out somewhere beneath their table (probably hoping for more scraps, the wooden moocher).

Rincewind still can't quite wrap his head around the fact that he's out on a date with a lovely woman, fake or not. For as random and strange a set-up as this was at the start (and he's still not sure whether Jeff was attempting to inventively sabotage him or if his intention was genuinely helpful), Rincewind has to admit he's been cautiously enjoying himself. He's even in a men's shirt and slacks tonight. They're even his size! The shirt is still somewhat fanciful and he honestly still prefers April's shirts, but - baby steps.]

You know if at any point this is, er, uncomfortable for you we can leave.

[yeah, sure, uncomfortable for Harley.]

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[ Harley is enjoying watching her date more than the show. He's so adorably out of his depth that she can't decide to coddle him or torment him. ... Alright, so it's not much of a dilemma. Of course she's going to torment him. But he's been very sweet and this really has been a lovely evening, so she plans to do it as nicely as possible. She even dressed very conservatively if she does say so herself, since Jeff did ask that his friend remain unbroken.

She's got one elbow on the table, propping up her chin and regarding him with a fond smile (and if it's slightly devious, well, that's just how her face is sometimes). The other hand is casually dropping bar snacks under the table at intervals. ]

So I'm guessing you've never been here before.

That would be -

[a look of absolute horror crosses his face when one of the dancers slaps a very naked ass with a handful of glitter. Somehow the slap and the resulting, sparkling shower are still in time to the odd techno beat they're performing to. Why is this happening?]

- incredibly correct. This isn't. Exactly what I pictured.

[he'd like to say he can't believe that Dorian works here, but of course he can.

Rincewind's next swallow of wine is a little rough, and he turns to fully face Harley in some desperate attempt to distract himself from the floor-show. It helps that Harley has been an admittedly pleasant distraction tonight, particularly when the dancing lights catch on the sequins hugging her body. (The Luggage is taken with her as well, particularly because she keeps the discrete treats coming even when its oversized tongue swipes over her fingers.)]

I can't tell if it's supposed to be like a play. Do you think there's a story in there? - I mean besides the one about how difficult they're going to find it to wash all that off later.

[ Harley has always been fond of terrible murderbeasts, so she thinks the Luggage is actually kind of sweet. But anyway, about that date. ]

Nah, it's not a play, just a show. I guess we could make up a story. Maybe a troupe of dancing girls got robbed and all they were left was the props cart and a bunch of coupons to the craft store?

[ She looks to the stage and grins. The start of the show is relatively tame. She can't wait to see what the following acts will do to the poor man. ]

Soooo, okay, I gotta ask. What's with the sex thing? Or the no-sex thing. Why's Jeff on a mission for you?

- Those coupons are no joke, you know. Every week I get one, and they're for nearly half off. [you'd think Rincewind was selling State secrets, with the low tone his voice takes. Cue one incredibly self-satisfied wizard.] Sometimes the older women drop theirs and I can go back two or three times in the same week.

[a Rogue in the making, that's Rincewind.]

It's - [his ears go an interesting shade of pink, seeming suddenly interested in a light fixture. Oh look, that light bulb in the middle is much dimmer than the one on the left, someone should really see about replacing that sometime soon...] Well. Wizards just - aren't allowed to have sex with women. It's one of the rules. It's so they can't have children, I think. Let magic get too deep in one bloodline or something, I don't know.

But I can hardly speak for Jeff taking it up as some sort of crusade. Honestly I thought he'd set me on a date with someone terrible for a laugh.

No, he really wanted you to have a good time out. Jeff's actually super nice? It's his greatest secret.

[ She turns the sex thing over in her head while watching a flurry of tassels and feathers onstage. It's really the sort of thing that should STAY in her head, politely move on and let the date continue. But nope. ]

Oh, I thought it was like some moral thing or personal preference. If that's why, then it's kinda... I mean, birth control is a thing, and even if it wasn't there are sooo many options other than p-in-v that there could totally be a perfectly satisfying sexual experience without any oops babies at all and--

Sorry, I'm rambling. It's not like you need anyone telling you how to do your thing. More importantly.

[ She leans conspiratorially against his shoulder. ]

Did you know they have the coupon on their website too? You can print off a ton of 'em and go to a bunch of different stores in one week.

He really is confusing in that way. I mean, one minute he's threatening to punch me and the next he's making me potato salad and bringing it to me when I'm drunk. Very odd sort.

[which somehow, impossibly, makes Jeff even more likeable.]

Birth control? [that sounds concerning, Rincewind's not sure he wants to try that. And what the hell is p-in-v? That doesn't -

- oh, wait, never mind, he just got that one. Right. Ah.

Rincewind pulls at his collar and squirms against the back of the booth uncomfortably. Is it hot in here? It feels hot in here. Phew. Probably because there are no windows, which makes sense. That thing they're doing on the stage with the roller and the glow paint would probably give a passerby a heart attack.

The wizard blinks rapidly when Harley leans against his shoulder, his heart jumping, but he makes no move to dislodge her. His toes curl in his shoes.]

Y-You can? Really? They haven't caught onto that? That's... that's rather clever, I'll, ah, I'll have to try that.

[ His shoulder isn't comfortable, but she stays pressed there anyway. It's easier to talk this way when the show is on, and it's basically hilarious. ]

What, wizards haven't figured out condoms? Or even--

[ No, nope. She is NOT spending this date teaching basic sex education to a grown man perfectly capable of using the internet. Besides, Jeff would probably make a fuss if Rincewind's head exploded while she was supposed to be playing nice. ]

Anyway. Coupons.

[ ... Okay, maybe one more go at the sex thing. ]

Wait, so is this okay? It's not all contact with women against the rules, right? Just baby-making contact.

[ Girl, this is a real weird thing to bring up while snuggling at a burlesque show. Let the man live. ]

[sorry, Harley, his world is literally flat; shooting fireballs is currently still more important to wizards than inventing safe sex.]

No, it's - it's fine. What you're doing there. With your - body. [although you might think otherwise from the way Rincewind's voice squeaks in that high, worrying pitch on the word 'fine'. Probably that's the wrong word for how nervous he is right now, and how acutely he can feel the heat of Harley's (admittedly very nice, very lovely) body pressed against his arm and shoulder.

Rincewind's attempting, with intense deliberation and focus, not to work himself into an anxious panic. People being nice to him is always worrying enough, but mixing that with the slow awakening of his repressed libido is enough to set the whole cauldron of his nervous energy bubbling over. He is aware that allowing this to happen might result in his outright fleeing the room, and ruin an otherwise enjoyable date night. So.

...This needs more wine, is what this needs. Right now. Just give him a moment to gulp some down.]

[ Dean... really should be barhopping elsewhere. For everyone's sake. Some moral higher being should keep him from visiting places for any ol' reason, but a man can't subsist on peanuts and beer (aka whiskey) forever. Not to mention, there aren't any actual real limits on where he is and isn't allowed to go, and sometimes plain ol' strippers just do not fit the bill. Not to mention, Maurtia Falls? Definitely good for a walk around. The place is giving him ideas.

But that's besides the point.

He's a little late to the show, but at least he slinks in easily enough, lifting his chin to look above people's heads to scope out a spot to plop himself down. Not just so he can sit but so he can get a drink; ogling comes next. He'd be fine with sitting in the back, just enjoying himself and taking in the scenery, but that doesn't outright stop him from stopping when his gaze settles on-- lookit that. People he knows.

Dean's curious gaze turns into something of a grin after a second as he watches Rincewind nervously pounding down whatever it is he's drinking and he all but cracks up at the sight. Guy looks about as out of place as a, well- as a wizard at a burlesque show and there's something inherently amusing about that. Which is maybe why he's already navigating his way over. Excuse him if he can't help the urge to come over and say hi. ]

[ Harley giggles a little at Rincewind, but not cruelly. She honestly is a bit fond of him. Yeah, he's super weird, but she's used to weird. She decides it's perfectly harmless to link arms with him and loosely thread their fingers together. It would be easy to pull away, if he wanted, but she doubts he will. ]

You know, if -

[ OH

THIS

MOTHERFUCKER

She catches sight of Dean out of the corner of her eye and freezes, waiting for him to move on, but when it's clear he's coming over to RUIN ANOTHER PERFECTLY NICE NOT-REALLY-A-DATE-THING she goes tense with rage and glares at him.

Don't you do it. Don't you fuckin do it, you fuck. ]

[that's her hand. Those are Harley's pretty, nimble fingers laced with his. And it's not so she can yank him off balance or steady herself to punch him or anything, even. Rincewind stares down at their linked arms with some flushed surprise, his heart galloping.

Which is when he notices her attention drift. He frowns, following her gaze.]

Is something wro - ?

[demon. Demon, demon, that's the demon, he'd recognize that smug face anywhere. Rincewind makes some noise of instinctual panic in his throat before immediately running.

Or... he would have. If his arm and hand weren't warmly linked with Harley's. So instead, Rincewind jolts sideways with all the grace of a frightened rabbit and falls halfway out of the booth, conking his forehead against the edge of the table on the way down like he's re-enacting some classic slapstick routine. Even one of the dancers pauses in surprise.

At least the unpleasant throbbing between his eyes is enough to distract him from any fight-or-flight responses. Well, that and his face being on the floor, and his legs awkwardly akimbo on the cushion above him. Rincewind catches the Luggage staring. It doesn't matter that the box doesn't have eyes; somehow it manages all the same. ]

...Shove off. [he mutters against the tiles, wincing.]

[ Goddamn this shouldn't be so funny.

Maybe it's that pure unsettled look of rage on Harley's features, or the look of fear that smacks across Rincewind's, but Dean pulls into a sharp look of his own unbridled amusement that can't be beat. He really can't help himself - it's not like he even planned this. It just happened to, well, happen and now here he is to interrupt, sauntering his way on over just as Rincewind dive bombs the floor and Dean has to pause a second to blink, looking at the aftermath of his own existence, canting his head before he carries on.

Making the rest of the way over to the table, he slows his roll a few steps away purposefully so that he doesn't step on Rincewind, tipping his head a bit underneath the table by way of greeting. ]

Enjoying date night?

[ It's hard to keep a good rage going when your date throws himself on the floor. She's yanked to the side and huffily puts herself back together before realizing, oh crap, he might have a concussion or something? She promised not to break him and there he is, kissing the floor. Technically not her fault but it's not going to look good to bring him home with a goose egg smack dab in the middle of his forehead.

She leans over to pull Rincewind off the floor and if that gives Dean and anyone else who might care to look a good view down the front of her dress, oh well. ]

Actually, yes, we were having a very nice time.

[judging by the throbbing between his eyes, Rincewind's less-than-spectacular tumble routine will probably leave a mark tomorrow, but hey, that's what giant floppy hats are for. He's getting himself back on his elbows when Dean comes to a stop in front of them to say hi, which is enough incentive to scramble (with Harley's help, bless her) back up into his seat.

It's probably terrible of him, but he does wish he had the seat closest to the wall. To be fair, Harley does look more capable of protecting herself at any given moment than he does.

(The Luggage also remembers Dean, if the angry way it snaps its lid at him is any indication.)

Rincewind clears his throat, trying to look less nerve-wracked. He's not sure if it's working. Funnily enough, it's Harley who gets his startled glance first.]

We were? [oh! Oh, that's good to know, that she's been enjoying herself. Rincewind folds his arms.] I mean - yes. We were. Still plan to. And this is a nice place and all, so don't you think to try something.

But you... you're here by yourself, then?

[if Lucifer comes around the corner late and holding Starbucks, Rincewind is going to have a heartattack.]

[ Dean checks out the luggage for a moment, gives it an eager little grin and almost offers up a wave before he thinks better of it, not really needing to regrow his fingers in the middle of this fine establishment. But he looks up again after a moment and offers his smile to his newfound company instead, who seem terrified and angry with him in equal measure. All in a day's work, really, and their feelings brush over him like waves tumbling over rocks - not stopping to linger on anything he might've done wrong and instead just going ahead and looking rather proud of himself. ]

Would hate to ruin the date. [ Actually no, that'd be pretty fucking funny if he did. And Rincewind had already ended up on the floor because of him... that was a start, wasn't it?

But he still earns himself a shot down Harley's dress in the middle of things and that unto itself is its own reward - but whatever, it's gone in an instant and Dean can turn back to the matter at hand, waving a hand at Rincewind's comment. He's not gonna try shit.

Maybe. Probably. We'll see. ]

What, you thinkin' i've always got company? [ He's not entirely sure if he means a girl hanging off him or someone else...... ] Kinda thought i'd pick up some here.

[ Harley, deeply attuned to the emotional needs of others and highly skilled at empathy, somehow senses Rincewind's wish to be closer to the wall and crawls over his lap to put herself between the wizard and the demon.

No, that's not true at all. Harley, deeply selfish and highly oblivious to Rincewind's feelings at all, crawls over his lap to put herself between the wizard and the demon because this one is hers and Dean needs to back off. She's not sharing this time, not again. ]

Sounds great. I think there's an open seat waaay over there, on the other side of the room.

[ She lifts her leg to-- well, not kick. She's not kicking Dean in public where it might start a scene, but it is definitely a firm nudge with her heel against his thigh in the direction of away. ]

[motives be damned, Rincewind is just happy to eke out the extra bit of distance necessary to soothe his sense of self-preservation. Having his back to the wall and an angry blonde (and brunette, if the Luggage's wood color is to be considered) between him and a smirking demon doesn't fix things, but - he'll take feeling better. He'll take that every time.]

Well, you don't really seem the lone wolf type, to be honest. [honest commentary, which he dredges up about the same time he finds his voice again, peeking around Harley's shoulder.] Hard to find people to torment by yourself. Gets a bit... self-reflective.

[some reassurance, in case Dean was worried Rincewind lost his sense of dry humor.

But now that he's sure his troubles won't be coming in pairs tonight, the wizard has a moment to look past any dangers to himself to notice other things. Like the simmering expression on Harley's face. Which, all right, maybe she's just always upset by the interference of strangers. Only, Rincewind is starting to wonder if maybe...]

Do... you two know each other?

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'When it comes to wine, women and song...'

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