milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Moist enters Milliways with a sigh, loosening the tie of his elegant grey suit, the world of art isn't one he enjoys. Tonight there was a party held in a museum in Pseudopolis that he was attending with a mark and he was reminded that artists are even better at bullshitting than he is.

As a forger, he appreciates the fine detail that appears in art especially in engravings, but for all that there's money in it, he has no desire to forge art. For that to work, there's a lot more work required to slip into the world and he prefers skimming on the surface of wherever he is, only dipping deeper when the prize is worth it.

He relaxes into a chair near the fire and orders a MacAbre as he watches the crowd.

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He isn't the only one watching the crowd. It's rare that the cut of a fine suit on an attractive man would escape the Emcee's observant eye.

After a few moments, he slips off the bar stool, and with a glass of gin in one hand, the other deep in his coat pocket, he approaches the gentleman. He makes eye contact with him long before coming to a stop by the fireplace and his red lips curl in a small, barely-there smirk.

"Guten Abend, mein Herr," he purrs, his tone low and smoky.

He pulls a slim case out of his pocket and flips it open.

"Cigarette?"

Moist returns the smirk with a small smile, this man looks interesting and answers in Uberwaldian, which isn't exactly German or Russian but close enough to be understood, "Good evening, no, thank you."

It wouldn't work with his current character, he has to appeal to a socialite who dislikes ash. He gestures to an open seat near him with his glass.

The reply earns a curious tilt of his head (it's almost German yet still sounds strange to his ears), but he then bobs it in a polite nod before settling into a nearby armchair. He sets his glass down on an end table and plucks a cigarette from the case for himself.

"That is a very interesting accent," he says in rough-edged English as he lights up. "And I thought I had heard every accent there is -- that is, until I started coming here."

He switches to English, where he has almost no accent just a hint of something other,

"I'm from the Disc, so I'd be surprised if you knew it."

"The Disc?" he says, the curiosity in his voice prompting the man to do go on.

"The Disc, a world carried on the backs of four elephants who ride a turtle, the great A'Tuin through space. Its rather magical,"

Moist takes a sip of his drink as he waits for the reaction, there's always one as this bit of truth is rarely believed.

His dark eyes widen a bit, glimmering with wonder in the firelight.

"Magical, indeed," he breathes through an awed chuckle. "It sounds marvelous, like the stuff of dreams and legends in my world. I am from Earth, which, according to scientists, does not require cosmic fauna to bear it on its backs."

"It can be marvelous but it tends towards the dangerous as well. I'm just an ordinary human,"

The Disc is exciting and he enjoys it but he has no desire for an early death. He leans forward slightly as he likes that look, it makes him wonder what secrets are hiding there.

"Dangerous? Mm, yes. I suppose every world will have its elements of danger. But one needs a little danger in one's life to keep things interesting, don't you think?"

"Oh yes, otherwise it all becomes rather boring. Where on Earth are you from? My guess is Europe but I'm not certain beyond that,"

He still can't pick out Earth accents as well as he can Disc ones.

"You are correct. Germany, to be more specific, a city called Berlin. You have heard of it?"

"Only vaguely, I know of Germany. I knew someone here who had spent some time there."

"Oh, indeed? I find it rather amusing that I still manage to run into Germans, Britons, Americans, and the French at the end of the universe, when they are all I ever meet back home." He chuckles and takes a drag off his cigarette.

Then, offering a pale, slender hand, he says, "Do allow me to introduce myself, mein Herr. I am the Master of Ceremonies, but all my boys and girls call me Emcee."

Moist raises an eyebrow, that's an interesting title and shakes the Emcee's hand,

"Alfred Spangler and what sort of Ceremonies are you master of?"

"Delighted to meet you, Herr Spangler," he purrs, the feel of his handshake ambiguously sensual.

"I preside over the nightly revelries at the Kit Kat Klub and ensure that everyone is having a good time. There is music and dancing, an endless flow of liquor, beautiful girls...and beautiful boys. It's all very decadent."

"A good time is always important and not everyone understands that. I find it a great shame, too many people think stability matters more than fun. I mean money is lovely but life does need its spice."

"I agree wholeheartedly," he says, leaning toward him, meeting his eyes.

"And what do you do, Herr Spangler? For money, or for fun -- whichever."

"Oh, I look for opportunities wherever I can find them for business and pleasure,"

He only looks respectable.

A slow, liquid smile spreads across his face.

"Mm, an opportunist. The best kind, in my opinion. One must be quick enough to spot chances, but also clever enough to take advantage of them."

"Always, can't let anything slip through your fingers,"

That's the kind of smile, Moist likes and leans a touch closer.

He bites his bottom lip, his dark-lidded eyes flicking up and down from his face to his shoes and back again. Respectable, indeed.

"Are you particularly good with your fingers, mein Herr?"

"It all depends on the context. Why do you ask?"

He's a very good thief, but that's not something its healthy to say aloud.

He takes a slow drag off his cigarette, leaving red lipstick stains on the unfiltered end.

"I think you can guess the context, darling," he murmurs, "and I think you can guess why I ask. But if you would rather not take advantage of this opportunity, then by all means, I understand."

(OOC: Moist wants to show off and either steal the cigarette in his hand or go for the cigarette case. Do you have a preference? Canonically he's a brilliant pickpocket.)

Moist smirks as he gives the Emcee a long look over before closing the distance between them his eyes meeting the Emcee's, "I think I could be interested and I'm very good."

Edited 2014-05-05 04:20 (UTC)

He follows him with his eyes as he draws nearer, meeting his smirk with one of his own.

"Well, then, we shall see about that, hm?"

Getting to his feet with the languidness of a cat, he turns briefly to pick up his glass of gin.

[ooc: No preference, let him do what he will!]

As he stands so does Moist, offering him a new cigarette from his own case,

"Yes, let's."

"Danke--..."

He stares dumbfounded at the case in Alfred's hand.

Then up at his face.

And he grins, thoroughly amused.

"My, you are quick-fingered."

Knocking back his drink in one swallow, he deposits his cigarette stub in the glass where it fizzles with a hiss. He then takes back the case.

"I didn't even feel a thing. Although, if you really are interested, I would like to actually feel something next time." He smirks, running a finger under Alfred's jacket lapel.

"I am, and yes, I'm interested,"

He closes the case and tucks it back into the Emcee's pocket, taking the chance to run his hand along the Emcee's side.

"Mmmhm, that I felt," he murmurs under his breath, slyly looking up at him, keeping the space between them close.

"Do you have a room here? Or..."

A thought strikes him. An impulsive thought, crazy, daring, exciting.

Why not?

"You know, darling, I have not made this offer to anyone, and even though we've only just met, I feel compelled to ask you-- would you like to visit the Kit Kat Klub?"

"I'd enjoy that, if you're hosting, the Kit Kat Klub must be wonderful. Will I fit in or should I change?"

People don't usually give him offers to visit their world.

"Oh, I assure you, it is quite wonderful."

Stepping back a fraction, only just enough to look him up and down, he trails his fingertips along the length of his tie.

"Mm, I think you'll do nicely. However, might I suggest adding a hat to your ensemble -- a homburg or a fedora, perhaps."

"Easily done, I can pick one up from Bar. Hats don't travel easily in my line of work,"

He can put a lot of character into a suit, but hats are more disposable.

The Emcee knows when not to ask deep, probing questions. The pickpocketing and an opportunistic nature are answers enough, and he is never one to judge.

"Excellent. I do appreciate a man who travels light."

Gently pushing off of him, he takes a few steps backwards, beckoning to him with a curling finger, before turning and heading for the door.

"I'm very good at that, let me get that hat,"

In a few strides, he's at the counter picking up a grey homburg that matches his suit and sets it easily on his head, tilted every so slightly. Then he returns to the Emcee to follow him out the door.

[OOC: Continued here.]

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