(no subject)

[just_cant_lose]

 
The door opens to reveal darkness. Smoke. A red spotlight. The stage is just a space cleared between dinner tables, intimate, people transfixed by a couple dancing the Argentine Tango in their midst. 

Jim leans on the doorframe, and lights a cigar. It's his first for nearly two years, but it goes with the look - black tux, red shirt, hair slicked back. The music is raw, thrumming with quiet passion, just set to explode. He closes his eyes to listen but it's too hot, too hard to breathe.

'I'll be back in a minute,' he says, in perfect Spanish. 'And I'll say it again - I don't mind learning the dance, but I'm not wearing the dress.'

Sherlock has better legs for it anyway. Jim grins and lets the door fall closed, humming a flamenco riff to himself as he saunters to the bar for a cold drink. 



[OOC: Open until the weekend. Here all day, except this evening because IT'S COMING HOME and afterwards I'll be too happy to sit still. Or there's a remote possibility of the other thing, EXCEPT NO. #England :D]

Comments

[deadeye_shot]

There's a woman seated at the bar doing paperwork. Her bearing screams military, from the straight-backed posture to the uncompromising gaze to the navy blue uniform with grey trim. Hawkeye sets her pen down and turns her head to the side to stretch her neck, catching sight of the arrival. "What kind of music is that?"

[just_cant_lose]

Jim hums it a bit louder, swaying his head from side to side with a beatific smile. He likes music.

'Mix of all sorts of things, really. Why?'

[deadeye_shot]

Hawkeye watches him, and picks up her pen again. She doesn't use the writing utensil or toy with it, simply holds it. "I was curious. I've never heard music like that."

[just_cant_lose]

'Disgraceful.'

Unless...no. Still disgraceful.

'Not that I'm a fan, exactly.'

[deadeye_shot]

Hawkeye blinks at that. She's never been called disgraceful in her life. "If you're not a fan, why do you hum it?"

[just_cant_lose]

Jim blinks back.

'I didn't say I hated it.'

Duh.

[deadeye_shot]

Hawkeye signs her name to one of the papers--a file request from a team in Central, bleh--and then offers her hand. "I'm First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye. I take it you're from an Earth?"

[just_cant_lose]

'Jim Moriarty-Holmes.'

He sticks his cigar into his mouth, and shakes the offered hand. He's in a good mood.

'Mmm. You could say that. Originally, at least; I'm not sure the place I live now qualifies. Are you new here?'

[deadeye_shot]

Hawkeye withdraws her hand. "I am. I've been coming here for about a month or so, based on the bar's calendar. I came in with my commanding officer, Colonel Roy Mustang. I'm assuming you're not new?"

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock comes up behind Jim and lays his hands on his shoulders. He murmurs into Jim's ear, "But what if I want to show off your legs, my love?"

[just_cant_lose]

'Wellll...'

A slow smile, and the slightest lean back.

'...you see them enough the rest of the time. And you get terribly jealous, even when you pretend you don't.'

Does he really want everyone ogling?

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock rubs Jim's shoulders. "But I like them. They're so strong and shapely."

Does he get jealous? He'll never tell.

[just_cant_lose]

'Oh, I know.'

He tilts his head back, holding his cigar to the side so no smoke will get up in Sherlock's face.

'But you're so much taller. And you'd drive everyone wild in a hot red tango number.'

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock laughs in Jim's ear. "Hot pants," he says. "With fishnet tights."

[just_cant_lose]

'Dooooon't.'

It's a parody of a moan, but it wouldn't take much to turn it into a real one.

'You've teased me with stockings before and never followed through. You're so mean.'

Talking and laughing in his ear is also mean. Sherlock knows exactly what it does.

[mightbeagoodone]

"I know," Sherlock murmurs. Terribly mean. "But we're learning the tango, and I should dress appropriately. But wherever should we get the clothes?"

[just_cant_lose]

'You could go for a low-backed number, slashed up to the hip.'

He leans back properly, trusting Sherlock to take his weight.

'We could try you in any number of things. I'm sure Bar could help us out...or I could take you around every designer boutique in Buenos Aires. Show everyone how pretty you are.'

[electro_kinetic]

"Going for the Marlon Brando look?" Noriko asks, sitting at the bar herself (those gold shorts, they're very nice on her) and eyeing Jim with a lifted eyebrow.

[just_cant_lose]

'More Argentinian street rat.'

Admittedly, this isn't too much different from 70s gangster. But he makes it work. His colouring goes with most things.

'What's your excuse?'

[electro_kinetic]

"Might need to reevaluate what kind of street rat wears a tux that nice," she says. But hey, his suit, his choice.

"As for me...fresh tattoo, great legs, like showing both off," Noriko answers. And it's true: she has a fresh tattoo (a very pretty koi fish on her thigh) and great legs. Great ass, too, but since she's currently sitting on it Jim might not see. And since he's currently doing Sherlock probably won't care. She doesn't mind.

"Argentinian?"

Weirdly specific, but whatev.

[just_cant_lose]

'Criminal ones, obviously.'

He grins like a shark and leans against the bar, looking her up and down.

'Great legs indeed. Koi are a matter of taste, but the art's nice. And Argentinian because that's what's currently on the other side of the door.'

[electro_kinetic]

"Usually street rats are criminals of some description, yeah," she laughs. She's long since been unfazed by people looking her over. Comes with the territory of being adorable and hot.

Nori smiles when he affirms the comment about her legs, but shrugs: she's Japanese, koi fish are a thing. "So you're playing fancy street rat in Argentina? Just...needed the change of scenery or what?"

[just_cant_lose]

'I'm on my honeymoon. And my husband loves dancing, so I took him to a club. Now he wants to learn the Argentine Tango.'

New husbands are so demanding. Jim loves it.

'I'm not going to do anything without looking the part.'

Obviously.

[electro_kinetic]

"And you're gonna let him wear the dress?" she asks.

Damn, why can't she make her soon-to-be husband do that? Tell her the secret, Jim.

"Tango's kind of a bitch, though. The whole...following thing." She has issues with not getting to move when she damn well wants to.

[just_cant_lose]

'He has better legs for it. He's taller. And he likes messing with people's perceptions.'

New husbands are also fucking glorious. If they're Sherlock anyway; other random husbands are probably crap.

He takes a drag of his cigar, which he is not loving but eh.

'The Argentine Tango is different from the regular one. Filthier. And if he wants to lead I'll let him, even if he's in a dress.'

Neither Jim nor Sherlock give a fuck about how things are normally done.