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[i_am_your_host]

The door abruptly opens and the Master of Ceremonies swings in, somewhat breathless, the sounds of brassy jazz music and applause behind him. It takes a few seconds before he realizes he isn't in his dressing room at the Kit Kat Klub. Closing the door, he rests his back against it for a moment and murmurs aloud with mild bemusement to nobody in particular,

"Why am I always the person in the room with hardly any clothes on?"*

For the record, he's still in stage makeup and costume, what little there is of it -- shirtless, suspender harness and all -- just enough to not break any rules.

Dragging his leather coat by the collar, he slinks over to the bar, uninhibited as you please. It's only after he orders a glass of refreshing gin that he decides to slip the coat on, leaving it unbuttoned and unbelted. Tossing his lanky hair out of his eyes, he takes a slow, much-needed pull off a cigarette and exhales a plume of smoke just as slowly.

It's always close to midnight somewhere in the universe.


[*OOC: Actual tweet from Alan Cumming. Slightly NSFW photo unless you want to explain who the Emcee is to a stranger looking over your shoulder.]

Comments

[onceaviking]

Indeed it is.

Eric is in a booth. He follows the slinking, the ordering, the dressing (of sorts) and the smoking with a certain amount of interest.

It really does take you back, watching history repeat itself. Or unfold. Whichever.

There's a stack of newspapers on his table. He's ignoring them. What information could be gleamed from their pages have been gleamed.

[i_am_your_host]

The Emcee always knows when eyes are on him, even when he isn't in the spotlight. (Then again, all the world's a stage, isn't it?)

However, a certain pair of eyes manages to send a prickle up the back of his neck, and turning only his head, he sweeps a quick, curious gaze across the room...

Ah, of course.

He can't help a smirk around the end of his cigarette. So, glass in hand, he makes his way toward Eric, a sassiness in his step that comes from just having run offstage.

"Well, hallo, Herr Northman," he purrs, putting extra tongue on the L's. "How are you this evening? Busy?" He nods at the stack of newspapers.

[onceaviking]

"Always," Eric replies, looking up at the Emcee with slightly red rimmed eyes.

"Business to conduct, people to -"

He licks his lips.

"...talk to. You look lively tonight."

A look he favors for many reasons.

[i_am_your_host]

He notes the significant pause and the lip-licking and he would only be lying to himself if he claimed that he didn't find that hot.

"I'm in the middle of a show," he explains as he flings his coattails out and flops into the seat across from Eric, lounging back against the wall and bringing one knee up to his chest. "I was supposed to be making a costume change in my dressing room, but instead I find myself drawn into a conversation with you, darling."

Eric would indeed be able to tell that his heart is beating fast, his blood flowing faster through his veins.

[onceaviking]

"So is that a good thing or a bad thing thing?" Eric purrs, rather suggesting by the tone of his voice, that a bad thing might be very good indeed.

The rush of blood, the beating of his heart - it is all very delicious. And while the Emcee is a strange creature, he is an amusing one. And he could certainly do with a distraction.

[i_am_your_host]

He grins a slick smile, meeting his eyes knowingly.

"For all I know, it could turn out to be absolutely terrible."

And of course by terrible he means marvelous.

Taking a puff off his cigarette, he tosses him a coy little glance as he props his head back against the wall, exposing more of his throat like the tease that he is.

"But we shall see."

[onceaviking]

"Oh, but we shall," Eric purrs.

"I have had a stressful week. Coming here tonight was my little treat to myself."
He smiles at the Emcee, his teeth white and strong and even.

"How is Berlin?"
Not that he really cares. Although he did like the city the time before last he was there. Back in the twenties.

[balancingminds]

Charles has a Scotch and the day's New York Times, nothing is going quite right. The recruiting is complicated, Javert's in more trouble and he's got a headache.

The Emcee's entrance is impressive, he hasn't seen someone wearing that little move like that since he and Raven went to one of the more risque nightclubs in London. Whoever this man is, he can pull it off, its impressive to see such confidence, "Long night?"

He's wearing a tweed jacket over a slightly unbuttoned shirt, all fine quality and comfortable.

[i_am_your_host]

The Emcee turns his attention to the source of the voice, and he smiles cat-like at the fellow. Heavily made-up eyes flick up and down to take him all in within seconds. Rather prim and proper, handsome in an adorable sort of way.

"Oh, my night is just getting started, darling," he replies with a sly twist of his lips before taking a sip of gin. "And yourself? How has your evening been?"

[balancingminds]

The prim and proper makes him smile, he doesn't mind it,

"Longer than I'd like but the Scotch is good."

[i_am_your_host]

The man reminds him of those tourists who come to the Klub to get their hands (and other things) a little dirty.

"Mm, good liquor is always the antidote to life's stresses. Prost, mein neuen Freund," he adds, raising his glass to him.


["Cheers, my new friend."]

[balancingminds]

Now he smirks, he's either terrifying because he can read someone's mind or naive, "I agree. To not having to think for a while."

He raises his glass in return.

[i_am_your_host]

It's just a first impression (but what good's a first impression?).

"I will certainly drink to that," he says with a crooked grin, and he takes a healthy swallow of gin.

"Nothing against using one's intellect to the fullest, of course, but at the end of the day, I would rather be physically than mentally exhausted. Are you particularly cerebral?"

[runningred]

Jay chuckles at the muttered comment and turns to smile at the newcomer, looking him over with a rakish grin. "Pure luck at a guess."

He himself is dressed in beaten up jeans and a dark grey teeshirt stained here and there with engine grease.

[i_am_your_host]

The Emcee does appreciate a rakish grin every so now and then.

He returns it with an impish flirtatiousness, unabashedly looking him up and down and paying no mind to the quality of his clothes but what might be underneath them.

"Lucky for me? Or lucky for you?"

[runningred]

"Well I'm the one enjoying the view at the moment so I guess I must be the lucky one. Although," He leans back on his bar-stool. "I can't see any reason why we both can't get lucky."

"Buy you a drink?"

[i_am_your_host]

Oh, he likes how this fellow thinks.

"Well, then. I do believe things are already looking quite promising tonight."

He rakes his teeth over his bottom lip in a coy smile, bobbing his head in a slight nod.

"Danke schön, darling, I would love one. Gin, bitte, my usual."

[runningred]

"Mein vergnügen." Jay answers in German a little rusty and orders a scotch for himself. "So what shall we drink to on a night as fine as this?"

[i_am_your_host]

He grins at his reply, always a bit tickled to find someone at the end of the universe who either is German or speaks the language.

"Hm. I think we ought to drink to Milliways, which happened to bring me in just as I was going to change my costume. Any other time and you would probably have seen me more decently attired."

[filemyclaim]

It is indeed. Dixie always appreciates a free show of any sort, so this display of calm in the face of embarrassment earns him a free drink from her.

"That's usually my bit," she replies, sashaying down the stairs.

[i_am_your_host]

He flashes her a red-lipped grin and greets her with a showman's flourished, sweeping bow.

"Far be it from me to steal your lines, Fraulein Dixie," he purrs, offering her a hand, palm turned up in a gallant manner. "Perhaps we simply find ourselves cast to type too often. How are you this evening?"

[filemyclaim]

Her grin is just as confident as she extends her gloved hand for his kiss. "Type casting's fine. Helps me maintain my brand," she says, then to his question, "right as rain. I'm taking a little rest from the road right now. How is it down Berlin way?"

[i_am_your_host]

He dips his head and brings the back of her hand to his lips for a feather-light kiss, before escorting her to the nearest barstool.

"Berlin at this time of the year is still too cold and rainy for my taste, but it hardly matters as it is always hot inside the Kit Kat Klub. And speaking of things that are hot, I must say that you look absolutely sultry tonight, darling."

[filemyclaim]

She gives a soft chuckle at that kiss - it's always nice to be flattered. "Hot's good - if you can keep it cooking," she teases. "Your Klub always sounds so gorgeous. I'm gonna be awful sore if you don't take me there someday." She sits delicately upon the stool, crossing her legs. "This old thing?" she pats her nylon-covered thighs. "I yanked it out of the back of my closet. My good boa's in the shop."

[i_am_your_host]

"Oh, we do keep it cooking since everyone is always so ravenous," he replies with a cat-like smile, stressing his accent on the last word to give it a lusty growl.

"And if you would like to pay a visit, I'm sure we can set a date. You would fit right in, darling -- boa or no boa." He chuckles. "Besides, it's not what you wear, but how you wear it. If this came from the back of your closet, I can only imagine how stunning you would look in something from the front of it."