Nobody cares if you can't dance well. Just get up and dance.

[maximoff_girl]

Who: Wanda Maxiomff, Kate Bishop, + Anyone who wants to show up
What: Club HQ's grand opening
When: January 31st
Where: HQ (Across the road from house 14)
Summary: Kate and Wanda finally unveil their Nightclub.
Rating: PG to PG-13.


[After a lot of preparation, opening night for Luceti's newest club is finally here. The music is loud and insistent, the kind where you have to shout a bit to be heard above the noise. Flashing, moving lights above reveal the purple decor, mostly devoid of chairs, and plenty of room to dance. A well stocked bar should be able to provide liquid courage to anyone too nervous to shake there groove-thang sober, while a patio out back affords a space for anyone wanting to have more intimate (or just quieter) interactions. There's also a coat room, for anyone looking for a warmer spot for intimate interactions.

The doors open at seven, and will stay open until two am-- plenty of time to drink, dance, talk and generally have a good time. When the DJs aren't spinning, a house mix is put on, so there's never a quiet moment.]

Comments

[shades_of_jean]

[She sighs, taking a sip of her drink.] Yeah. I'm afraid that particular talent makes most people quite wary of me. It would seem that the majority of telepaths misuse their skills. Unfortunately it's a bit of a rock and a hard spot for me. I can keep it a secret, but then if it ever comes out, it makes me seem guilty just by having not-- 'divulged' as you say. On the other hand, I can be up front about it, as I just have been, but... I can offer no real proof that I'm not using my skills.

I understand if it's, ah, too great of a trust issue for you. You wouldn't be the first and really-- I do get it. No body wants anyone in their head who's not supposed to be there.

[relictusdeus]

[While carefully considering this, he finds, to his annoyance, that it’s actually a reasonable-enough answer. And if he’s to treat it as sincere for just a moment, it’s a step above what he had expected. But maybe this is part of the plan. It would be easy enough to present herself as respectful given the information he had supplied and exploit the smallest crack in his defenses.

Humans didn’t need to have convoluted motives or harbour personal grudges to do harm. That he knew well enough. And he wouldn’t put it past his mortal enemy, either, to attempt to turn the village against him in some way or another. Or to try, Isaac thinks wryly.

His eyes narrow slightly, because the last thing he wants to suggest to her in his distrust is utter vulnerability. In weakness, Isaac always shows his teeth first.]

And wandering where one belongs not is not without consequence. [He muses, his voice hollow and cooly level – but then a beat passes and his inscrutable mask melts into a slow, lazy grin with practiced ease.]

But I’m so very glad you understand. [Canting his head, he adds, thoughtfully:] ‘tis a pleasant surprise, I will grant, that you do not appear to regard yourself and your… telepathy… as the answer to a favour for which no one asked.

[He didn’t need help – hadn’t needed help then or asked for it, either-, much less by a deeply invasive means. There is enough tucked into the recesses of his mind that he would rather leave untouched. Some things he has only known how to face by not facing at all.]

[shades_of_jean]

[She nods again, agreeing. She's seen how the Professor reacted to some mind. She can even remember the feel of Mesmero's mind, and the darkness that came with it. No. Not all minds were places where she wanted to look.]

I have-- had? ... Have a good teacher. Though, to be perfectly frank, before I learned to control it, I would hear everyone's thoughts around me. And really? The majority of people out there are not thinking terribly exciting things. "Did I bring my book with me?" "Where's my next class" "my hair looks terrible today" "I love him" "My back itches" "I need to pee" "I hate that guy" "I hate myself" ... It ranges from the mundane to the depressing-- myself no exception, I'm sure! Very rarely are people's thoughts the sort of thing you even want to hear.

[relictusdeus]

Surely there was a good laugh to be had every now and again. Flecks of gold amid the dirt, so to speak.

[He punctuates the remark with a slyly accusatory look, as if he had just caught a voyeur looking in through someone's bedroom window. It's not a pleasure he's had quite yet.]

[shades_of_jean]

[She has enough social graces to look amusingly ashamed of herself, tapping a finger to her lips.]

Oh, every now and again. ... But when the dirt is in your head, in the very core of your person? No, no. Not worth it. Bescides-- whatever thoughts I can pluck from the air are nothing compared to beauty of someone who trusts you, and opens their mind to you.

[... Scott.]

Now that... is a rare gem indeed.

[relictusdeus]

[By way of a soft, scoffing sort of chuckle he agrees, polishing off his glass to wash away the bitter taste the lattermost comment leaves in his mouth. He’d have more than enough time to dwell on disappointments and his failings at home.]

So... [He teasingly drags out the vowel] ...I take it, then, that you intend to spend what remains of your life waiting so very politely until someone invites you into their thoughts?

[Considering his own talents, he knows that had he possessed her gift, he would frequently tap into unguarded minds with the idea that such skill, especially given its rarity, ought not to go to waste.]

[shades_of_jean]

Mmmhm. [She nods, demurely, smiling with that sort of secure satisfaction (some might even call it smug) that comes from being oh-so-morally right.]

What about you, though? I feel like I've been dominating this conversation. Care to tell me about your self?

[relictusdeus]

[He assumes an expression of boyish, wide-eyed surprise, a hand pressed to his chest.] Me~?

[The giggle that follows spoils the effect, but then again, clueless, innocent looks don’t quite suit his features anyway. He drops the act and regards her, faintly amused.] Well, perhaps I might feel generous enough to oblige you... but I do not believe you would much like what you hear.

[The music thumps and buzzes on, filling his silence. And he invites her to search his face for as long as she might want to while considering the closest thing to a disclaimer he's inclined to give. Maybe he really is feeling generous.]

[shades_of_jean]

Possibly. [Jean is starting to get the impression that Issac maaay be a wee bit off kilter with the standard "sanity" scale. Or it could be a defensive act. Or he could just be awkward. Regardless, she's not parachuting this conversation yet. ] On the other hand-- Possibly not.

What about your-- face markings? Are they tattoos, or natural? [Or perhaps something not to talk about? She'll find out soon enough.]

[relictusdeus]

[A soft laugh.] Come now, 'tis either one or the other. [But he does in fact respect her hesitation and choose not to press it. At least for now.]

Which might you prefer? [He teases, never having been asked such a question. And finding himself mildly surprised holds his interest in their small talk even while restless nerves push for more.]

[shades_of_jean]

Well... I think they're very lovely. [Hopefully they're not a brand of some sort. She hopes she's not putting her foot in it.] It would be fascinating if you were born with such markings, or developed them as a part of your natural growth. But I think I would prefer if they were tattoos. It shows an eye for design and-- the exotic.

[relictusdeus]

Really now? [Isaac drawls flatly though a little mischief dances in his eyes as he leans into his palm and rests his chin against it.] Flattery shall get you nowhere, you naughty girl.

[shades_of_jean]

Yes, but a stunning wit, good social graces and healthy body will. [She retorts back. Part of her rails against being called a "Naughty Girl" if only because of how diminutive it is. But she'll leave off her feminism rants for now, until she knows more about the world he's from.]

[relictusdeus]

[The eyebrows go up in feigned shock. Or his right does, as his shaggy fringe is almost always hiding the other.]

Modesty is a virtue, you know. [Then his voice drops to a husky, conspiratorial murmur.] Where is your meek little blush?

[He can’t finish with a straight face, but he doesn’t try either.]

[shades_of_jean]

[She rests her chin in her hand, elbow on the bar.] What makes you think I have one. There's nothing "meek" about me.

[relictusdeus]

Good.

[It’s rather refreshing. He feels like he has met far too many people who are painfully unassuming. But perhaps they only felt reluctant to speak highly of themselves in his presence.]

I might have found you utterly insufferable, otherwise.

[shades_of_jean]

Well, I wouldn't want that. Though I still don't really know anything about you.

[relictusdeus]

Then might I entice you to join me for the night? There is so very much to learn. [The invitation rolls off his tongue, smooth and slick, and he's certain from past experiences that he knows the answer that'll come. Still, he sees no reason to be anything but calm about it.]

[shades_of_jean]

The night is still young. [She smiles, to show she's not entirely rejecting him.] And I've still got a few friends left to say hello to. But I wouldn't put it out of the realm of possibility.

[relictusdeus]

Mn. [He nods and smiles easily, gently, in a way that doesn't reach his eyes. Maybes are rare compared to rejections, and not long ago he'd have allowed himself to feel some measure of anticipation at her teasing words. But being lead on has done a number on his already limited ability to believe a maybe when he happens to hear one.

He gestures for a refill with a lazy wave of his hand.]

Well, do enjoy yourself. [He says pleasantly enough after being served, turning his head back to gaze straight ahead, unseeingly, at some of the drink choices artfully on display. His thumb absently traces the stem of his glass.] But not all too much. Make certain to reserve to some enthusiasm for afterwards, hm~?

[But he won't be sitting much longer than it'll take him to finish his glass. He has seen what he came for, he decides, and it has gone as expected.]