|A DJ Saved My Life|
|Location||Tompkins Square Park - Mutant Town|
|Participants||Beckah, Moody, Tiffany, Reya, Rosalie|
|Summary||Open Mic Night in the park!|
Usually, the respectable portion of Mutant Town--at least what can be called respectable, which is a bit of a sliding scale--stays away from the park after dark, when it becomes a dangerous urban wilderness. Once in a while, they come in force, however, to keep the drug dealers and gangsters away.
Tonight is such a night. Oddball Coffee has decided, bravely, to move their Open Mic night into the open air and enjoy the spring weather, such as it is. A small stage, with mic and speakers, has been set up, as has a booth offering coffee and baked goods. Opportunists have moved in to sell other items, food and goods, including alcohol, which probably isn't legal, but it's Mutant Town, so who cares? Although it's not a formal job, word went around that the coffee people'd appreciate a few people keeping an eye out for the disreputable element.
All seems quiet at the moment, except for the man on stage (seven feet tall, with horns) belting out a Broadway standard completely offkey. So far no one's brave enough to boo him. Sometimes when an athlete limbers up, they look really stupid. Moody looks pretty stupid at the moment, as she hovers sort of near the stage, cracking her neck and stretching out her arms and shoulders before shaking her fingers loose. Either she's about to start a gymnastics floor routine or she's working up the courage to try and follow a 7 foot tall guy belting out Broadway. Having visited Oddball the night before and found out about the event, Beckah has shown up. She's spurred along by a good mood borne of having gained employment at one X-Factor Solutions earlier in the day. Draped in her standard leather coat, her pudgy looking middle concealed as much as it can be, she wanders the area, soundtracked by the dulcet tones emanating from the stage. All red dreadlocks and red makeup, the tall lady probably stands out from the crowd as she winds toward the "music," armed with coffee.
In a not so subtle exchange that involves a stiff, overly-cupped handshake, Tiffany buys some weed off of a thuggish little teenager. They pair does have the decency to go off to the side of a tree but like, it's not /that/ far.
Responding to the teen's series of totally incomprehensible hand gestures, Tiffany presses her mouth into an awkward smile and widens her already large eyes awkwardly at the dude. Tucking /totally nothing/ into her bra, she looks both ways before strutting back over one of the paved footpaths to her find her roommate. "Are you ready? Are you gonna vom?" Tiffany asks dryly, "No way, that guy is so tall." She cups both hands, "BOO!" (RE!) Reya is new and town and new to these jobs, formal or not. But as the event seemed like a good way to get her feet wet, she's here. Not to sing. It's hard to say if she's even here to *enjoy* the singing (but then, is anyone enjoying this one?). But she's something of a stand out for being dressed just a little too nice and looking just a little too serious as she lingers. At least her version of 'keeping an eye out' is casual instead of outright looking like she's crowd control. It's also casual in that she seems to be holding off getting into things until something serious happens. What her definition of serious is is anyone's guess.
Rosalie doesn't show to group events often. She's shy. Also, sometimes Weather Happens. She's here tonight, however, awkwardly drifting about with a cup of coffee in one hand. Her dark gaze darts about the crowd, looking for familiar faces.
"TO DREEEEEEAM THE IMPOOOOOOOSSIBLE DREEEEEEAM!" bellows Horns. Apparently the answer to 'Boo' is 'sing louder.'
"I am not going to vom. Probably." Moody slants a look at Tiffany and adds, "You know, the legal stuff is way better than that scavved crap those jerks sell. I mean, I know it's pricier, but I think it's worth it..." She trails off as Tiff boos the big guy, hissing, "Hey, that's rude. It takes a lot of guts to get up there."
Beckah makes her way to the front of the stage. She's tall enough that she sticks out like a sore thumb, with the help of her attire and color choices. For the moment, she stands there and deadpans at Horns. Her eyes cross slightly at the bellow, but she tries to keep her flat look up.
Tiffany pricks up her eyebrows as she explains in unenthused monotone, "But then I wouldn't have an excuse to speak to my future husband and the love of my life." She turns, hopefully with Moody, to stare fondly over at the pimply gross pseudo-skinhead. In doing so, she spots at least two faces that she can recognize. "Listen, sometimes guts aren't enough." She takes this moment to just make very cold, dead eye contact with Moody before speaking again, "Anyway. I'll be over there rooting for you." Inching away more and more, Tiffany makes her way around to the front of the state as well. She'll probably settle beside Big Red.
"TO FIGHT THE UNBEATABLE FOOOOOOOOOOEEE..." They can probably hear Horns in Avenue at this rate.
The bellow has Reya turning to look at the stage, eyebrows lifted. Possibly in surprise. But, she also claps as he goes on, so maybe she's a little impressed by the guy's guts. Not his vocal ability, certainly. But it gets a smile, if a crooked one. Rosalie applauds. She applauds very politely. Other people blink at her, and a ripple of applause sweeps across the crowd. At the applause, Horns looks confused. That must mean...his song is over, right? He puts his hand over his hand, bows low, and departs.
As Horns departs, a few members of the crowd cheer in sheer relief.
Beckah notices Tiffany settling and gives a friendly little smile and a companiable sort of "Sup," to her. When Horns makes his departure, she pauses to wiggle a finger in her ear-canal, as if shaking away damage done by the guy doing his best water buffalo impersonation. "My ears aren't going to be the same," declares the leather-draped woman.
As Horns heads off, Moody claps politely, waiting a tick before blipping up to the stage. (Stairs are for losers.) Once she's up, she offers the crowd a cheery grin and pulls out a small holo projector, the kind that links up with Eyes and speakers, and calls out, "I'll do my best to follow that one up -- I'm Addy Moody, and this is something I worked up myself, so -- if it sucks, it's all on me. Thanks." She grins again, dimple and all, and starts to play. Music with Eyes is kind of odd to watch, performance-wise -- she starts to tap her foot, and a beat kicks up like she was kicking a heavy drum, something with a lot of bass to it. She twists her hand and begins to move it and a different loop plays, something electro and sticky, and so on and so forth. Once the beat is thudding hard and the music's melody seems to emerge, she sings -- this part is a bit tentative, the part she's least sure of -- but the hook emerges and mingles up with the rest of the music. Is it good? Maybe. At least it's not showtunes.
<FS3> Moody rolls Music: Success. (4 8 2 4 4 5 1 3)
<FS3> Moody rolls DJ: Good Success. (2 8 2 7 1 5 5 2 8 4)
Horns overheard that. He gives Beckah a stricken look, all hurt puppy dog eyes, and shrinks into his seven foot frame.
"What?!" Tiffany cups a hand to her ear as if to hear Beckah better. It's hard to tell if she's joking her not. As Moody climbs up on-stage and introduces herself, Tiff cheers. "Woo!" She's uh, the worst person on Earth to have rooting for you. Totally dead-pan. At least she dances, though. As the beat starts, Tiffany begins a slow swivel of her hips. She raises both hands into her long, dark hair as her eyes slide around the crowd to lure others into dancing as well. She's like, such a good friend.
Becks perks up at hearing the name of the girl on stage. "Oh hey," she blurts in surprise. As the performance starts up, she bobs her head along with the beat. Clearly enjoying this far more than poor Horns, she allows Moody's music and Tiffany's bait to motivate some swaying and a hand coming up in the air. "Woo, yeah!" she calls out, probably embarrassing herself to some degree with her enthusiasm. She likes the music, dang it.
As dancing happens, Rosalie looks mildly confused. She looks to her coffee, and then to the those beginning to sway with clear awkwardness. She glances toward the dancing Tiffany, and then away.
Moody doesn't play for /too/ long -- this is open mic night, after all, not the Moody Plays All The Things hour. She finishes her song and gives a quick bow before snagging her projector and teleporting away, back down to where she was standing before. Tada! It certainly wasn't Broadway, but that might have gotten Moody more than a few points. Reya wasn't among those dancing, but she does clap more enthusiastically this time when the song comes to an end. Even though Moody literally disappears when it's over, the clapping lingers for a few moments. Sorry, Horns.
Tiffany claps until eh- Moo's already off stage. Why bother? With both hands poised /as if/ to clap, she looks around over her shoulder to scan the crowd once more. "Oh," she pants out upon spotting Rosalie, turning on the ball of her foot to take a few steps in the weather witch's direction. She offers a vague sort of wave but doesn't appear overly eager.
Tiffany's sudden change in trajectory proves to be an unfortunate choice, as the psionic comes close to bumping into someone in the midst of doing something very similar. They don't collide and the stranger goes on their way, but Tiffany stops. And staggers. There is a brief moment where an incorporeal version of the young woman visibly sways apart from her physical body. Bringing both hands to her temples, she closes her eyes and attempts to steady her abilities.
With some less-restrained-than-ideal cheering, Beckah shows her appreciation for Moody's miniature set. She did hear good things about her the prior night, after all, so she is happy to see the performance. She glances to her side as Tiffany moves from beside her, in time to wince at the near collision. The swaying and staggering that follows makes her take a step toward the other woman. "Hey, you okay?" Beck asks, holding a hand up as if to catch her if she falls over. Rosalie blinks as she sees Tiffany...wobble. In more way than one. She calls out her name, stepping into the crush of people. "Are you all right?" she calls out. The temperature in the immediate area dives, turning noticeably chilly.
On stage, Moody's place is taken by someone with a bongo and thick-rimmed glasses. Oh dear.
"Hey --" Moody took a minute to work through the crowd over to where her roommate had migrated, distracted now and then by people stopping her to say hello and tell her what they thought of the performance. (It's mostly thumbs up and monosyllables, given how fast she was moving.) She gets there after the rest, "Tiff? You okay?"
Reya notices, too, and turns to head in that direction, but doesn't get close enough to crowd Tiffany, seeing as several people are already there. But she seems more on alert than she did a few moments ago. "Can someone grab some water?" If it isn't all already been used for coffee,
Tiff's lashes flutter as the brief wave of vertigo passes. Gradually, both hands slide from either side of her head to the flat of her stomach. "I don't need water," she manages in an overly casual purr as her heavy-lidded eyes slide up to finds Reya's. It's easier than trying to move her head to look at someone very close to her. She wets her lips, willing herself to slowly stand up straight again. "It was just-" The poetess makes a vague, whimsical gesture towards her head, mind, and brain areas. Her eyes slide in turn to the woman who have come flocking to her. One of them's gotta know what she means, right?!
Moody thrusts a hand into her pocket and pulls out a small handful of sweets -- hard fruit candies, caramels, a few foil-wrapped chocolates. She holds them out towards Tiffany, "This might help a little. It works for Dementors, anyway." DJ /and/ a nerd. Shh. Don't tell.
"Dementors aren't real," Rosalie feels she has to inform Moody, her gaze slipping from Tiffany to Moody. She frowns. "Or are they?" she sounds momentarily uncertain.
When Tiffany looks her way, Reya meets her gaze, and while she doesn't seem to be buying into the half-made excuse, she isn't pressing. But she is lingering. Just in case. She glances over to Rosalie at her comment, but lifts a shoulder. "Her name's Moody," she says with a gesture to the DJ, "Anything could happen, yeah?"
Once it looks like people that actually know Tiffany have the issue well in hand, Beck gives her an awkward little smile and a, "Feel better," before she goes slipping into the crowd. Not before pausing to give Moody a "Nice stuff," and a little grin.
"Thanks," Tiffany mumbles under her breath, fishing into the palm full of sweets. There's a conspiratorial glance offered too Moody as the DJ is credited. "They're real," she admits with a labored sigh to the topic of dementors. She nods sagely, sucking on a caramel, "Thank the Dark Lords my patronus charm worked." Blink. "My patrons is that horned guy."
Rosalie simply crosses her arms beneath her breasts (which, in this case, does have the side effect of pushing her breasts up and together if anyone is looking at her chest for any reason), and stares at Tiffany. Skeptically.
"He'd be a super good patronus," Moody agrees, saying gravely to Rosalie, "That story was based on mutants, you know. Like, mutants in hiding. True story."
Reya chuckles at Tiffany's reply, and her hand runs back through her hair as she lets out a little noise of indulgent exasperation. She looks between Moody and Rosalie, "You two her friends? You can make sure she gets home okay?" It's not an order, for right this minute, but a general check that someone's looking out for her.
The psionic appears to have perked up from the caramel. Her cheeks suck inward as she rolls it around over her tongue. "Is that true?" Tiffany asks, narrowing her eyes Moody. If Harry Potter is based on mutants, she will flip out. "I'm," Tiffany starts. Boobs. "-fine. It's just, psionic stuff." She rolls her eyes, glancing away from Rosalie specifically as she tucks her hair behind her ear. "Yes. They're my stupid too talented friends."
"I'm her roommate," Moody answers Reya, smiling quickly, then says to Tiffany with a vaguely 'duh' expression, "Yeah, totally. I met Rowling once at a book signing in the 90s and she confirmed it." She is lying. She is pretty good at it.
"I'm not her roommate," says Rosalie. She eyes Moody. She's still skeptical. She practically radiates skepticism. On the bright side, however, skepticism does not appear to cause any imminent Weather. "I'm..." She pause. "A friend," she decides.
When the explanation comes, Reya nods in understanding. Perhaps she's familiar. Or she accepts things easy, either way. It seems to be the latter when Moody answers and Reya gives her a skeptical look for a moment before letting it go with a shrug. "Having talented friends isn't so bad a hardship, right? Free music from this one, yeah?" There's another glance between Rosalie and Moody, seeming to accept their answers. She ends up on Rosalie, though, with that pause. "Well, look after your friend for a bit. Just in case."
"Oh, it's not just music," Tiffany half-agrees drolly, "There's merch, too." And bullshit lies that she can't prove are lies. Moody receives side-eye before Tiffany's penetrating gaze settles on Rosalie. She adopts a mask of stoicism. "I'm fine, seriously. I just lost control." She's a fairly accomplished liar, herself.
Rosalie turns that skepticism (and, admittedly, the boobs) on Tiffany. "You should rest," she suggests, helpfully.
"Don't worry, I know a shortcut home. If she gets peaky, I can blips us home in a tick." Moody says breezily.
"Merch, too, see?" It's all good. Reya gives Tiffany a half smile that might be a touch skeptical, too. "Indulge me. I'm a professional worrier." There's a nod toward Rosalie, too, like she might be including her as a worrier, too. Moody gets her attention, too, and she gives her a grateful nod. "Thanks. Good song, by the way," she says before giving the trio a lazy wave and heading back toward the event proper.
Bringing both arms down, Tiffany gives Rosalie the smallest smile. "You're probably right." You're wrong. It won't help. Hell, she sleeps more often than she's awake. "You can stay and have fun if you want," Tiffany offers to Moody, wetting her lips. "You should, you're like, super popular at this party, now."
Rosalie unfolds her arms. Her boobs are totally less impressive now, right? "I could see her home," she offers, awkward again. "I mean. If she needs it." "I'm sure she'd rather have your company than mine," Moody says to Rosalie, dry. "But I don't need to stay to par--" Right in the middle of the sentence, she disappears, blipping out to when knows when.
Tiffany turns to Rosalie. She doesn't even bat a lash at the disappearing act. With a little shrug, she slides up beside Rosalie. "You look really pretty tonight," she offers casually, glancing away all cool-like. Yeah, they'll probably make out on the walk home. Whatever.
Rosalie does bat a lash at Moody's disappearing act. All of them, in fact. She turns to Tiffany, her cheeks turning pink. There is a hint of warmth in the night air now--just a hint. She might be getting better at this. "I do?" she asks, and then, equally awkward, "You do, too."
Tiffany rolls her eyes at the returned compliment. There isn't even a hint of a blush to her cheeks as she turns her nose up to take in a breath of the spring night air. She continues on with polite conversation for the rest of the little trip towards the apartments. Maybe a little flirting to keep the temperature up.
Rosalie hooks a finger into the neckline of her dress, twisting and tugging at it a little anxiously. Totally coincidental, of course. The air remains very pleasant on the walk over to the apartments. Not tropical, not yet. Just pleasantly summery, with a breeze a little too balmy for this time of night.
At the entryway, Tiffany stops short of entering the building. Turning on her heel, she gives a tiny shrug. "I should lay down," she explains quietly, as if to make an excuse for Rosalie not being invited up. "Thank you for the escort. Very chivalrous." The young woman pants out a quiet chuckle.
"Oh," says Rosalie at that. She does sound disappointed, a disappointment she fails to hide. "Oh. Well. I guess you should---lie down." Her cheeks are still pink, the breeze warm. "I just wanted to make sure you were all right," she adds, still toying with her neckline.
Tiffany widens her eyes, giving the other woman's debilitating shyness a little nod of respect as if it were its own entity. "Whelp. Goodni-ight," she teeters on either foot before turning and stepping up to the door."Goodnight," says Rosalie in response, and turns away--before taking a deep breath, turning back, taking two steps (she has short legs) and stretching upward to give Tiffany a peck on the cheek.