fandomtownies | Devil's Nest [Saturday night]

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Devil's Nest [Saturday night]

Eric was hiding in the VIP section right now and cursing his advanced vampire hearing.

The reason? The DJ had found Rebecca Black's Friday. And all of the variations.

And eating the DJ now would mean no music for the rest of the evening.

As the night wore on, Eric would reconsider that decision a lot.

Devil's Nest was open and playing "music."

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Where Tiny will offer you strong, strong liquor, should you be old enough to partake.

"It's Friday, Friday..."

Guess we'll be needing another new DJ.

They were going through them as fast as Murphy Brown and her secretaries...

And to think a few years ago Mitchell might have thumbed his nose at 'VIP sections'.

Right now, though? He was grabbing a beer and settling down here to brood about vampires who weren't vampires anymore, and a whole bunch of even dumber vampires who were going to stop being vampires if they weren't careful.

Though he might have glared at Eric's decor some, just for appearances.

"Want a snack?" Eric offered, gesturing toward the DJ booth.

For a moment, Mitchell looked up at Eric in complete and utter confusion.

Only then did the music penetrate his brooding.

"Oh, god," he said, pulling a scandalised face, "What is that? It's worse than Bieber."

"I have no idea," Eric replied, "but it must be punished."

Mitchell shot him a look. "I'm not eating it," he announced, "But maybe a good smack 'round the ears..."

"I don't think making him deaf would improve anything," Eric mused.

"Oh, you don't know that, mate," Mitchell said. He was starting to feel the alcohol kicking in, and he was starting to get a bit cheerful about it all. In an 'up-for-anything-violent' kind of way. "At the very least it'd disqualify him for his chosen profession."

"So it's really a gift to others," Eric replied, eyes lighting up a bit. "We'd be performing a charity."

"Works out well that way, doesn't it?" Mitchell asked, setting his bottle down. "Maybe break his record collection, too, perform a full service."

Oh Mitchell, no.

"Or at least all of the versions of this song," Eric decided, "and any Bieber he has."

"I think that can be arranged," Mitchell replied, pushing up out of his seat.

"I love having a plan," Eric said as his fangs came out.

You have your idea of fun on a Saturday night, Eric had his...

Up until fairly recently, Mitchell's idea of fun on a Saturday night coincided rather spectacularily with Eric's.

No fangs for Mitchell, because he wasn't going to even run the risk of biting someone, not even drunk and feeling vaguely belligerent. He was, however, headed quite decidedly towards the DJ booth.

"Hello," he bellowed at the poor DJ fellow with the earmuffs on. "I'm just wondering if you can hear this?!"

The DJ was busy staring goggle-eyed at Eric's teeth.

Someone hadn't read the contract very carefully.

Eric rolled his eyes. "THIS IS SHITTY MUSIC," he enunciated carefully.

Around pointy teeth, it was no easy trick to say that without spitting all over everything.

Another reason why Mitchell didn't go around waving his fangs about, usually.

"Very shitty," Mitchell continued, "I don't think you've really THOUGHT this one THROUGH, mate."

Eric moved with vampire speed, picked up the CD with the horrible "Friday" song on it, and cracked it in half.

Mitchell beamed at DJ guy, yanked off his headphones, and smacked him hard upside the head.

The DJ promptly fainted.

"Well, that's anticlimactic," Eric complained.

"Jesus christ," Mitchell opined, staring down at him. "Kids these days, they can't take anything."

He glanced at Eric. "Any Bieber?"

"I'm looking," Eric said. "There's way too much Miley Cyrus here too."

By which he meant any at all.

"Give," Mitchell said, with authority.

Roughly the only genuine authority he could really muster. "They must be annihilated."

Eric shoved the prone body of the DJ away from the music with his foot and handed over the stack of CDs.

Mitchell shook his head down at the unconscious DJ. And shredded the CDs with extreme prejudice.

"So hard to get good help," he said, sympathetically. "All of mine are stupid."

"Well, it's still early in the process," Eric said. "You have to eat a few chickens to get better eggs."

That wasn't even close to the saying.

"Yeah?"

Funny look was yours, Eric, though part of Mitchell found that pretty hilarious.

Which would explain the bark of laughter a few seconds later.

He was a little drunk.

"Ancient Viking saying," Eric lied.

"So are you really a Viking?" Mitchell inquired, because he certainly wasn't going to ask Eric that while sober.

... Though he couldn't remember if he'd ever spoken to Eric sober.

"Well, it's been a while, but I was," Eric replied, nodding.

I AM NOT SORRY.

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Devil's Nest [Saturday night]

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OOC