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

[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.

[just_cant_lose]

And Jim follows him up, stepping easily and like he belongs there, like they both do. There are people throwing beads off the side, and there's music, and some dragon-based theme - Jim ignores all this and takes the lead now, walking along the side to the front so he can lean on the giant dragon head and survey the crowds below.

'Thank you, love,' he murmurs, and leans against him. Who needs staff, when Sherlock's so willing to play? And he's so much more fun in the way he goes about things.

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock kisses Jim's hair and whispers, "You're welcome, sweetheart." He wraps his arm around Jim's waist and surveys the crowd -- jostling bodies, bands, dancers, lots of noise and light and color that normally would send him into the safety of Baker Street.

But this is all right. He's got Jim, and it's all right.

[just_cant_lose]

Someone comes up to them eventually, and looks like they're about to say something. Jim puts a stop to this by simple dint of turning his head, and looking at them until they stop. He looks at them some more, until they go away.

Jim is very good at looking at people when he wants to be.

He turns back to the crowd, and then up at Sherlock.

'What do you want to do next? We could ride this to Jackson Square, get some drinks, and go and find some more music?'

He wants more than music though. He's got an itch under the skin, he wants trouble. He wants the bars where the bad people go; he wants to invite them to take him on, and then laugh as they hit the floor.

But Sherlock's here, and he does still like to behave a lot of the time. Jim eyes the glitter on his cheek, and licks the inside of his lip again.

'And is that glitter edible?'

[mightbeagoodone]

"I still want to dance, so I like the Jackson Square plan."

He eyes Jim, and chuckles. "I would venture not. The glittery bits are plastic, as I recall. Sugar would melt from body heat." He takes in the shops. "If there's a bakery we might find something..."

[just_cant_lose]

Jim's response is lean up, and brush his mouth against Sherlock's exposed throat. Just light, because, paint. He stays there a while, lips barely touching his skin, sucking just a touch along the bone.

'Should let me put a collar on you,' he murmurs, and pulls his arms around him so they can lean together.

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock shivers. "Still might."

His hand finds its way inside Jim's suit jacket, and his fingers lightly stroke Jim's waist, just above his waistband.

[just_cant_lose]

'I brought one with me.'

Just in case. It's that sort of day, to Jim's mind. He pushes up against him subtly, rubbing a little, enjoying the solidity of his body.

'Do you want to get high later?'

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock shivers again, deeper, and murmurs, "Then I will."

He sighs, though, slowly. "You know the answer to that. The real question is, will I actually do it?"

[just_cant_lose]

'Of course. Stupid of me.'

Jim grins slowly, watching the crowd.

'You've done it with me before, and we're here for a few days. It's up to you, though.'

And then he watches Sherlock's eyes.

'I'll put it on you now, if you like.'

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock undoes a button on his shirt, baring his neck, and lowers his head. "All right."

[just_cant_lose]

...fuck, that's hot. Jim touches his neck, but then shakes his head.

'You need to get down on your knees, love.'

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock meets his gaze, and doesn't look away as he gets onto his knees.

(Someone is going to throw them off the float for this. He can feel it.)

[just_cant_lose]

Jim was not actually sure he was going to agree. But Jesus Christ, Sherlock never fails to step up when it counts. Or in this case, lower himself down.

Jim breathes out slowly. He holds eye contact all the way and when Sherlock's settled, touches his thumb along the ridge of cheekbone. His hand drops away afterwards and he stands square in front of him, just taking in the view. The whole city might as well not exist.

'You're beautiful' he murmurs, drawing a leather strap from his pocket, lightly studded. He steps in close to press it to his throat, giving him a moment to change his mind if he wants, before sliding fingers back into his hair, moving it out of the way so he can fasten the buckle.

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock exhales shakily, watching him. All the noise and color and lights fade to nothing around this white-faced man in black.

"You make me beautiful."

[just_cant_lose]

He tilts his head, watching him as the leather slips through the metal, and catches. He makes sure it's not too tight, but not so loose that he won't feel it. Snug, not uncomfortable. He doesn't step back afterwards. He just strokes through his hair, and looks at him.

'Mine,' he says, after a while. And nods, once, before touching a finger to the lower edge of the collar and putting a little pressure on it.

'Up.'