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The Devil's Nest: Saturday, 9/10

You'd think that Deb's first stop -- after crawling out of a plane crash with only a shoulderbag, a disheveled flight attendant uniform, a head wound and a vague woozy feeling that Deb was a really stupid name, despite the fact that she was wearing it pinned to her chest -- would have been a hospital, but no.

It was the Kwik Stop. And after that, the General Store. And after that, the lobby of every sit-down restaurant she trudged past in her uneven shoes with one of the high heels broken off.

AND NOT ONE OF THEM HAD A GODDAMN CIGARETTE FOR SALE!

Finally, after circling back to raid the Kwik-Stop for emergency measures, she'd stumbled -- hands shaking, arms plastered with patches and half a pack of Nicorette gum in her mouth -- into a gothy dance-club place, where sure she'd be able to bum a smoke off some pretentious black-clad kid, right?

JHSGAJKHGSAJKHG THERE WASN'T EVEN ANYBODY AT THE BAR, LET ALONE THE DANCE FLOOR!

Swearing, not remotely under her breath, Deb tossed her bag on the countertop and slipped behind the bar herself. Which... didn't seem to have any booze -- oh right, Fandom, she'd heard about this place -- but she didn't really care about that. First because she was busy ransacking the shelves -- what self-respecting bartender wouldn't have a secret stash of cigs -- and second because what self-respecting flight attendant wouldn't already have a jump-bag half full of those tiny airline bottles?

[OOC: Open! There is no booze for sale, but the chick behind the counter might deal it to you under the counter.]

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Where there was... no visible booze and a dizzy, cranky, nicotine-deprived flight-attendant.

OR WAS SHE?

Whatever. Fuzzy memories of having an important mission (what flight-attendant had missions?) -- aside, she was there and she was trying to smile, for the moment. Somebody might come in who was willing to trade a cigarette for a miniscule bottle of tequila, after all.

Forgive the fact that her idea of a smile looked absolutely terrifying; she hadn't had a smoke in at least 24 hours.

Edited 2011-09-10 18:22 (UTC)

A few of those pretentious black-clad ~~NPC~~ types had eventually wandered in and started writhing to something whose pounding beat made Deb want to KILL THEM ALL WITH HER SINGLE REMAINING HIGH HEEL, but not one of them was carrying a pack of cigarettes. F^%*&-ing str8-edge twerps.

Edited 2011-09-10 18:48 (UTC)

There was a roped-off area at the back. If anyone was in it, they weren't smoking either. Deb would've been able to smell that from a mile away.

"Deb" was on some kind of undercover mission that she ~~doesn't~~ didn't remotely remember ~~and may never remember~~, ~~unless it becomes~~ until it became amusing for her to do so, but due to hitting her head in a conveniently unnoticed plane crash on the other side of the island, all she remembers about herself prior to the Kenzi thread is her chain-smoking, currently-in-horrifying-nicotine-withdrawal cover story.

Edited 2011-09-11 22:18 (UTC)

Eric arrived at his usual time and struck a dramatic pose in the doorway. On cue, the DJ switched from what he had been playing to what Eric's minion had dropped by earlier.

After all, when your boss was an extremely vicious vampire who only communicated through The Power of Dance, it was good to figure out what his mood was like tonight.

His choice: "Dust in the Wind." Great. He was depressed.

After a ~~strange~~ profoundly moving bit of choreography, Eric took up his seat in the VIP section and brooded.

It was surprisingly hard to find a person on an island this small. So, stopping by the club was half an attempt to locate Deb and half just the last stop before Vicki gave up on her search.

But hey, look who it was behind the bar. "Deb!" Vicki exclaimed. "I thought I was never going to see you again."

And what was with the smile?

Well, it got a tiny bit more genuine now, if that helped? Though also more desperate.

"Vicki! Oh, thank God!" See? She was worried and all. It was heartwarming. "Tell me you have a cigarette?"

Kind of?

Obediently, Vicki patted down the pockets of her uniform. Her clothes looked a little tattered, but in a strangely neat way, as if the costume department was hoping to reuse them at some point.

She came up empty. "No, sorry," she said, shaking her head. "But, oh my God, are you okay? I mean, the crash!"

"I know. I lost my smoooookes!"

She had to break down crying sometime ~~or makeup would have wasted the easy-run mascara~~. Now seemed as good a time as any.

Vicki might've thought that was a stupid thing to start crying about. But goddammit, she was determined to make a life for herself as a separate person from Katherine, and Deb was a part of that life, so she needed to be consoled.

Also she may have been harboring a doomed puppy crush on the woman, too. ~~For the ratings.~~ So, Vicki was swift to move behind the bar so she could reach out for a friendly hug. "Oh, sweetie."

"And nobody ==hiccup== in this town has any," Deb sobbed fetchingly and obliviously into her shoulder. "Why couldn't we have crashed in Reno or Philly instead of some crazy island where they made cigarettes and booze illegal?"

"Sweetheart, it can't be that bad," Vicki tried, soothingly rubbing her back. "I think Kathe--" Um, oops. Not supposed to mention her, moving on. "I mean, I was actually coming here, so maybe it was fate? And also, someone with cigarettes is bound to turn up."

Deb broke away and kicked the metal wastebin below the empty beer tap. Sorry about the mood swings, Vicki... "Are you kidding? Every place I checked, they treated me like I was crazy for even asking!"

Or...just crazy.

Yeah, Vicki wasn't technically even a person (though she hoped to be, one day) and even she thought that was a little bit crazy.

"Do you think you should maybe sit down and rest or something?"

Deb sighed and glanced around for a stool. "I guess. It's not like there's any customers right now." At the bar where she didn't work anyway.

Customer service professionals obviously had a hard time giving up their craft.

Vicki spotted a stool and brought it closer for her. "Just relax. Breathe. Be zen. Find your center."

"I have a better idea: find my brandy." Deb snatched her bag off the bar and sank down onto the stool, pawing through the depths. Peppermint schnapps, no, so that one went up on the bar. Tequila, no. White wine spritzer... "Who the hell would want a bottle of wine this small?"

"A glass of wine," Jan said, because she was feeling daring and didn't care what her parents thought!

And was also blonde.

Yeah.

Deb stared at the girl - who didn't look old enough to drink anyway -- for a few seconds, before waving her hands dramatically at the empty shelves behind her. "Do you SEE any wine here? DO you? Because I don't!"

Jan burst into tears, covering her face with her hands before she ran out of the bar. Why couldn't people just accept her? Sure, she was a time traveling mutant messiah that was raised by a... time traveling mutant messiah.

But that didn't mean she didn't feel just as much as everyone else did!

Deb rolled her eyes. "Drama queen." Sheesh, what was her problem?

"Desperate people," Vicki muttered, twisting her lips at how her Buddhist aspirations had been so easily brushed aside. And she'd gotten into that so recently, too!

She leaned her hip against the bar, then held her hand out for the tiny tiny wine. "Give me that."

"Say please! Didn't anybody ever teach you basic respect for the people busting their asses to make sure you have a comfortable flight?"

Blink. Blink.

Deb slowly handed over the bottle, then put her hand to her nasty-but-somehow-not-dripping head wound and tried another of those disturbing smiles. "Sorry, I... thought you were a passenger there for a second."

Well, Deb didn't miss that entrance, and even if she had, the change in music to something that didn't make her want to rip every hair out of her head in large chunks would have got her attention.

She made her way over, polite smile desperately pastede on ~~yay~~, and asked the only question anyone sane would ask an extremely vicious vampire who only communicated through The Power of Dance: "Hi! Sorry, but you wouldn't happen to have a smoke I can bum, would you?"

Vicki nodded. Slooowly. That smile was only cute in a really disturbing way. She opened the bottle while raising her eyebrows at Deb. "Are you sure you don't need to go to a clinic?"

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The Devil's Nest: Saturday, 9/10

The Bar [9/10]

The Dance Floor [9/10]

The VIP Section [9/10]

OOC [9/10]

Re: The VIP Section [9/10]

Re: The Bar [9/10]

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