fandomtownies | Caritas: Open 12/24

Lorne sits at the bar listening to cheerful Christmas music and hums along happily.

The lounge is mostly empty, but the atmosphere is warm and cheerful.

The Machine isn't as fun as the Zombie band.

But at least it doesn't smell.

Smith takes the stage, smiling. Never use a zombie band for a machine's job.

He clears his throat, takes hold of the microphone, and sings. A little Iron Maiden to celebrate the holidays.

There's an evil virus that's threatening mankind
Not state of the art, a serious state of the mind
The muggers, the backstabbers, the two faced elite
A menace to society, a social disease

Rape of the mind is a social disorder
The cynics, the apathy oneupmanship order

Watching beginnings of social decay
Gloating or sneering at life's disarrey
Eating away at your own self esteem
Pouncing on every word that you might be saying

Rape of the mind is a social disorder
The cynics, the apathy oneupmanship order

Superficially smiling a shake of the hand
As soon as the back is turned treachery is planned

Rape of the mind is a social disorder
The cynics, the apathy oneupmanship order

Watching beginnings of social decay
Gloating or sneering...at life's disarrey

When every good thing's laid to waste
By all the jealuosy and hate
By all the acid wit and rapier lies

And every time you think you're safe
And when you go to turn away
You know they're sharpening all their paper knives

All in your mind
All in your head
Try to relate it

All in your mind
All in your head
Try to escape it

Without a conscience they destroy
And that's thing that they enjoy
They're a sickness that's in all our minds

They want to sink the ship and leave
The way they laugh at you and me
You know it happens all the time

All in your mind
All in your head
Try to relate it

All in your mind
All in your head
Try to escape it

The rats in the cellar you know who you are...
Or do you?

Watching beginnings of social decay........

It's not often that someone comes across the stage that Lorne can't read, when it does his interest is raised.

"Can I get you a drink?"

"I'll have a Shirley Temple, please." Smith raises an eyebrow at Lorne's appearance, but no reaction greater than that. "You have a fine establishment here, Mister...?"

"Krevlornswath of the Deathwok clan. From LA by way of Pylea. I'm the owner, cheif bottlewasher and lead balladeer here at Caritas."

Lorne produces a Shirley Temple for the man in sunglasses.

With extra Cherries.

"And who would you be sir?"

"Smith. Newly appointed Principal at Fandom High School." Smith smiles at the extra cherries, and takes of his sunglassed and places them in his breast pocket. "So, Mister Krevlornswath, how is business?"

Drusilla walks in, carrying a package. She walks over to Lorne, tilts her head, and studies him for a moment before setting the package on the counter.

"Slow." Lorne says putting up a few glasses. "The students have disappeared for the holidays, though business has slowly gone down since I had the grand opening. I'm hoping in the new term, things will start to pick up."

"Call me Lorne. My mother only calls me Krevlornswath, and it's usually when she's about to announce how she and Dad ate the wrong child."

Lorne looked at the woman with a weird sense of Deja Vu. "Welcome to Caritas! I'm the guy with the hooch in his hand and a song in his heart. What can I do for you, young lady?"

"Perhaps we could arrange some regular business. A Karaoke club from the school? I assume your revenue is from the drinks and not the songs, correct?" Smith takes a sip of his shirley temple and and smacks his lips. "It is good to support the local businesses. Especially one run by such a colorful character as yourself, Mister Lorne."

With nothing else to do on Christmas Eve ~~omg so sad~~, Bel wandered into Caritas. He nodded to Drusilla in greeting.

"Back again, handsome?" Lorne said pouring Bel's usual drink. "I don't see your lady friend here, so I'll assume you won't be singing for me tonight."

"Well anything that would drum up business would be fine by me, and I have a deep affection for the students at your school.... Well most of them." Lorne says with a small grin.

"She's in San Francisco with her family," Bel said with a sigh. "And yeah, no singing. Not really in the mood anyway."

"Only most of them?" Smith tilts his head. "As chief administrator I would be amiss to not inquire as to which students you find troublesome. I do know that every school has its troublemakers. Have some of them passed through your doors?"

"He's changed you," she said. "He changes everyone. What do you think of that?"

Drusilla's answering smile was slight, but unmistakeable.

Lorne gave Drusilla a look of confusion.

"Let me guess? Little bit a psychic? Talks in riddles and is crazier that a Sha'nar demon on la'm weed?"

Lorne sighs.

"Nice to finally meet you Drusilla."

Drusilla frowns at him and furrows her eyebrows. "You didn't answer my question."

"You talking about Tall dark and heroic? Let's just say that his magnetic personality tends to draw the darkness in around you." Lorne replies with a touch of bitterness in his voice.

"Tell me Dru. What brings you to my place here on such an evening. If you're going to sing I'd prefer advance warning so I can schedule a visit with my therapist on Monday."

"Awww. Poor pumpkin. Stuck all alone on Christmas Eve? Then again, Christmas isn't a big holiday for you now is it?"

[OOC: Hitting the sack. Will slowplay if you want...]

"Don't worry about my establishment, Cheif. I've got a spell here to block all violence and keep my clientele nice and safe. Nah... I'm just referring to some old history I have with a couple of your students. Nothing I can't handle."

"Not really," Bel said with a nod. "Demons where I come from aren't much for the gift giving or celebrating. It's like any other day, except some take a little more pleasure than usual in...doing what they do."

[OOC: Fine, abandon me. ;) I won't be around at all 'til tomorrow evening, but slowplay is fine with me.]

Bel tries not to look like he's eavesdropping *too* much.

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