Milli-timed to Tuesday the 28th - New Orleans Mardi Gras

[mogget_cat]

The bar room of Milliways is always full of sound - the clatter of dishes and clink of glasses, chairs being scooted back or further in, footsteps upon the floor, rats squeaking, the background murmur of conversations overlapping one another.

But tonight the main door to the bar opens to the mouth of an city alleyway, to a caucophony of noise and music, full of seething crowds and colorful parade floats, the smells of food and sweat and smoke and beer and those colorful fruity drinks sold in yard-long plastic glasses with umbrellas in them. Mardi Gras is in full swing and New Orleans has outdone itself this time.

Yrael enters, trailing laughter from a section of the crowd on the other side. His white hair is decorated with purple, gold and green feathers, his pale face partially hidden by a sharp, glittery cat mask of gold, behind which his green eyes are bright. Over his white shirt this evening he wears a shiny waistcoat of purple, gold, green, and black. It's clearly party time, big time, show time -

"And then some!" he grins, seeing Milliways. "Fat Tuesday is upon us, Milliways! Welcome to Mardi Gras! Come, dance, explore! Laissez les bons temps rouler!"

Yrael will make sure the door stays open for any party-goer who would like to partake in the joie de vivre, and the Bar can certainly provide a change of costume...



(ooc: The post will be open all weekend and into next week as needed! Usual party-thread guidelines apply! Tag in! Threadhop! Meet new people and get into trouble! :D Yrael will be around, but his mun will not be able to tag much until Monday evening. <333333)

Comments

[mightbeagoodone]

"We're not going to kill someone so we can take their flat."

[just_cant_lose]

'Sherlock. I didn't say anything about killing anyone.'

Genuinely!

'I'm just going to steal their house keys for a day or two.'

Beat.

'You'll make it easier if you choose someone already drunk, but that's up to you, sweetie.'

[mightbeagoodone]

Mollified, Sherlock looks around the crowd. He nudges Jim, and nods toward a young man wearing a crescent moon mask and a pair of little yellow denim shorts. There's a medeval-style zodiac painted on his chest.

He's inebriated, wavering through the crowd with a plastic cup of beer, and singing along to the nearest band in the most generous definition of "singing" you can find.

"Keys are in his front pocket."

[just_cant_lose]

Jim tilts his head and watches him, smiling, his head rolling across Sherlock's shoulder.

'Oh, very good, darling. I do hope his flat won't smell.'

He whirls suddenly, and presses a kiss to his neck.

'Wait right here. Don't wander off and get lost.'

Jim winks and moves, all repressed energy as he comes up alongside the drunk man and falls into step. There appears to be a conversation about how beautiful the little yellow shorts are. A cigarette is offered, and taken. Jim turns and walks backwards, with a wide smile underneath his paint, and runs a fingertip down the edge of the crescent mask. The man stops. Jim steps in and talks, while his hand removes two items from the shorts in question, and replaces them with something else.

Whatever's said, Jim appears to have changed his mind. He puts his cigarettes away, blows a kiss and walks back in Sherlock's direction - but not before stopping next to a cop, and muttering a few words in his ear. A couple of details are exchanged, and there. Done.

Jim dangles keys off his finger as he rejoins Sherlock, and flips open a wallet with his other hand. Twenty yards away, someone is being arrested for possession of a Class A drug, so they'll be good for a few days.

'Can we find some blues in this party?'

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock watches the entire procedure, then laughs despite himself when Jim returns to him. He barely stops himself from taking Jim's face in his hands--he puts them on Jim's shoulders instead.

"Let's find some blues."

[just_cant_lose]

Jim puts the keys and wallet in Sherlock's pocket, because he doesn't want them ruining the line of his suit. He's grinning - he likes showing off, even if that was something so minor as to mean nothing - and takes his hand again.

'If there're floats, I want to get on one. You and I would suit a parade, looking like this.'

He tugs him off again, deeper into the Quarter. If it were anyone else, he'd tell them to make sure no pickpockets steal the keys to their new place. but it's Sherlock, so he doesn't.

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock allows himself to be led by the hand, not paying much attention to the crowd around them -- he brushes a hand aside, rather forcefully by the pinky to the point that the man yelps with pain -- and spots a float with a gap in its security. He points it out to Jim.

"You could get on that one."

[just_cant_lose]

Jim looks up at it. It's a bit too pink for his liking, and he pulls a face.

'Only if you come with me. And on one that doesn't look like the inside of a blancmange.'

For now, he turns back against Sherlock and presses close. There's a brass group coming down the street, with the exact kind of blaring, bluesy trumpets he likes.

'Are you going to break the fingers of everyone who tries to touch you?'

[mightbeagoodone]

"I'll come with you," Sherlock says absently, scanning the parade again, "but your choices are limited...

"And I might, if everyone who tries to touch me tries to get inside my pocket."

He points to one that looks like a dragon rising out of the clouds. "I like that one."

[just_cant_lose]

'You can ditch the wallet, if you like. We just need the ID out of it. Something with his address on.'

Jim murmurs it against Sherlock's throat, then turns his head to look.

'...yes, all right. That one. If there's security, feel free to take them out.'

[mightbeagoodone]

"I thought I wasn't supposed to break any more fingers." He grins at Jim and starts to make his way to the dragon float.

[just_cant_lose]

He never said breaking fingers was disallowed! He was just making an observation. Sherlock may break as many bones as he likes, and Jim will not object.

'I do love following you, Sherlock,' he murmurs and keeps close behind, enjoying the view. He wants to put some shades on, but that would rather spoil the effect of the paint. And it's not like he wants to hide how much he ogles.

'How much do you feel like showing off today?'

[mightbeagoodone]

"What do you have in mind?" He tightens his grip on Jim's fingers.

No one is allowed to break those.

[just_cant_lose]

'Ohhh, I don't know.'

He twines their fingers tight, while outwardly giving the impression of nothing but cool.

'But I'm sure between us, we can cook something up. Didn't you once tell me you sometimes go and out pick a fight, just for fun?'

[mightbeagoodone]

"Did I? That sounds like something I'd say."

He smiles to himself, weaving expertly through the milling crowd.

"Wouldn't picking a fight ruin the parade and our plans to steal a house for a few days?"

[just_cant_lose]

'Only if we get caught.'

Which would be most unlike either one of them.

'I might have some ideas about secluded corners in dark alleyways later on, but lets crash the parade and then get a few drinks down us first.'

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock looks back at Jim. His hands starts to reach for Jim's face, but then he remembers the paint.

"There will definitely be some dark alleyways later."

He exhales and tugs on Jim's hand, leading them to one of the other floats -- this one of a masked harlequin, with boys and girls in tiny costumes dancing up and down the curving platform.

[just_cant_lose]

Sherlock likes touching his face. This was very cruel of Bar, but it amuses Jim too. It'll be funny to see how long they can go without messing it up.

That is not what's on his mind, though. That exhaled breath, that glance...ohhh, the promises of what's to come. Jim licks the inside of his lip, and tries to focus his attention on the float.

'We're a little overdressed, but otherwise I think we'll fit in well enough. Do you not want the dragon one after all, or is this one to create a diversion?'

[mightbeagoodone]

"They're the diversion so we can get on the dragon float." More of the parade audience is watching the dancers than the dragon, which is not as titillating.

His eyes scan the dancers. They're professionals, so a real injury could be devastating; something along the lines of a prank might be more effective.

"Firecrackers," he murmurs to Jim. "Do you see any anywhere?"

[just_cant_lose]

'Mm. Hold on.'

He cranes his head back along the street. There's a lot of people, and a lot of tourist shops, and a lot of all sorts of tat being sold.

'Maybe up there. I have an actual gun, would that be more use for your plan?'

It'd make a lot of noise, and save an annoying walk up the street!

[mightbeagoodone]

"No. Gunshots will stop the parade, we just want people looking the other way."

[just_cant_lose]

'I know darling, I know.'

Jim laughs, pats his cheek, and tells him to wait here. It's such a pain in the arse, not having phones that work here. Maybe he'll buy some. They should have brought their T-Minuses in case of separation; he's not having the party cut short because of something stupid.

In the end, it takes fifteen minutes or so to locate what's necessary and make his way back.

'I hate not having staff available,' he says, and presses the firecrackers into Sherlock's hand.

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock takes out his lighter and kisses Jim's forehead, light so not to smudge the paint. "You're doing wonderfully. Give me five minutes."

He makes his way into the crowd.

In a few minutes, there are a few popping sounds, and the harlequin float bumps to a stop. The driver gets out and starts inspecting the tires, and the dancers are told to climb down. They do so, and mill about uncertainly in the street.

Sherlock comes back, beaming, and grabs Jim's hand. "Come on."

[just_cant_lose]

Jim smokes a cigarette, and watches. When Sherlock reappears he drops it down the hood of the girl in front of him, so her squeals a moment later will add further distraction. But he's gone by then, hand in hand with Sherlock, heading towards the dragon float.

'They'll have the police down on them, checking them out.'

But the floats in front don't seem to have heard, because they haven't stopped and the dragon one is right in front of them.

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock spots the steps built into the float -- unwatched, at the moment -- and steps onto them, still holding Jim's hand.