|Two Succubi Walk Into A Bar|
|Location||The Sloppy Pony - Mutant Town|
|Summary||Lillith and Tiffany battle it out to see who can be the most snarky and dark humored. It's a draw. Also, Lillith is in a band so that's cool.|
| There used to be glass in the heavy old frame of the door, but now several boards serve to keep the vermin out -- or, do they? You made it in.
An old hitching post greets patrons along the wall by the door, right next to a broken old jukebox that's just for show. The room itself is narrow and long, with mismatched chairs crowded around a couple (literally, two) small tables and a few crates dispersed elsewhere to sit on, but mostly it's all dancefloor, baby. The bar itself must be original, because despite it's dilapidated condition it's actually fairly well-kitted. There's a couple beers on tap, even. A sink, with shoddy plumbing, but it's a sink, coupled with a fridge whose light is always flickering, but keeps bottles icy cold. Thanks to the kid behind the bar, the collection of poisons to pick from is growing, too.There's a dartboard at the back, with darts available from the bar staff upon request, and tacks to pin up your choice of photograph to toss at. Right next to it is the door leading upstairs to the proprietor's office/living quarters, pockmarcked by stray dart-holes. The peeling paint and mold seeping through the ceiling are barely even noticeable in the dim light from the hanging, singular string bulbs around the place. Less so after a drink or three, so bottoms up!
| It is a summer night. The weather is warm and drizzling.|
"Tecate and I don't know, what's your well? Heaven Hill?" As a general rule of thumb, Tiff vocalizes in an apathetic monotone. The young poet doesn't bother looking up as she shifts through crumpled up ones, scrounging up enough to pay for her two dollar can of cheap, shitty beer and an equally cheap shot. Her blackish hair falls partially in front of her face as she slowly unfolds her sad looking cash bills, all the while half holding onto a thin pink-banded cigarette between two fingers.
Tiff wears high-waisted black skinny jeans, black flats, and cut off just beneath her breasts, a sleeveless black t-shirt that reads: Satan's School for Girls.
"I'll have what she's having," Lillith says, slipping beside Tiffany and sliding over slightly crisper bills. Her own blackish hair is pulled back in a messy bun, thick eyeliner emphasizing the piercing of her pale blue eyes. She glances over towards the woman beside her, red lips parting in a grin. "Come around here often?" she asks, casually.
Lillith wears an off-shoulder black blouse, a silver belt bringing in her waist, with black leggings and silver strappy stilettos.
If Tiffany has any internal monologue, it is buried deep beneath an otherwise expressionless exterior. Shifting her large eyes in Lillith's direction, she just nudges her chin up once. "No, I hate it here." She's here all the fucking time.
Mutant Town isn't the kind of place where people don't drink all day long, but after the five there is still a shift in /parishioners/. The bartender doesn't have very long to, with a SIGH, scoop up Tiffany's disorganized payment and Lillith's slightly more socially acceptable one. The drinks soon follow.
Fishing through her pockets for a moment to no avail, Tiffany rolls her eyes very theatrically, "Do you have a light?" She holds up her cigarette, waving it in a vague gesture that does not imply any real urgency.
<FS3> Tiffany rolls Snark: Good Success. (1 2 7 4 2 8 5 5 8 4 5)
<FS3> Lillith rolls Bitter Sarcasm: Success. (8 4 2 2 4 6 2 5)
Lillith is a bit less emotionless, her eyes sparkling and lips permanently smirked as she looks over the girl. "Well, no wonder the bartender looks so happy to see you," she says, taking her drink and knocking the shot back first. She glances to Tiffany and, rather than reach into her pocket, points her finger up and holds it so close to the cig her fingertip nearly touches it. "You know that shit's terrible for you, right?" she says, though a small flame suddenly appears from the end of her finger. She keeps it lit long enough for Tiffany to light her cig before she pulls her hand away, giving it a quick shake, the flame disappearing. "So you know if bands play here? Been trying to land some new gigs."
Lillith, non-smoker, becomes the happy recipient of a whole lot of rueful side-eye at her admonition. Leaning in, Tiffany puckers her own peach-painted lips around the end of her cigarette to take an initial drag as she lights it. Lit by the small flame, her own eyes are surrounded by a heavy amount of black eyeliner as well. They shift up to meet Lillith’s. “Cute trick.” Her own shot goes back with a slight wince. “I have no idea,” she answers dryly, leaning back on her stool to observe the other woman, “You know that being in a band is like, terrible for you, right?”
"You sound like my mother," Lillith says. Despite the other girl's bitter words, Lillith can't help but grin, apparently amused by the girl's attitude. She takes a drink of her beer before turning and leaning against the bar, looking out over the room. "You got any tricks of your own?" she asks, reaching up to pull a stray lock of hair out of her face and tuck it behind her ear.
"Your mother sounds really intelligent and pretty," Tiffany says. Her cigarette is strawberry and the scent wafts up around her. "I have vagina dentata." With her free hand, she lifts the can of Tecate and sips. "I'd show you, but that'd be really inappropriate." She nudges her chin, rolling her eyes, "I like your shoes."
"Sure, we'll go with that," Lillith says, taking another drink of her beer. Despite her early warnings on the danger of smoke, she can't help but slowly breathe in some of that strawberry smoke herself. Tiffany's 'admission' earns a slight choking sound, like a badly stifled laugh. "As curious as I am, I'd have to pass. You're cute but I lean more towards the penis side of things." At possibly the first honest comment the other girl's said this whole time, she raises a brow curiously, looks down at her shoes, and gives a light shrug. "Thanks. Trying to break them in."
"You don't know me," Tiffany explains, gesturing vaguely to her flats, "But I'm usually in really cute shoes." Her eyes widen if only to enhance the awkwardness of this admission. "Just so you know." Blink. "And." Ugh. She hates being nice to strangers. It's the worst. "You're probably better off emailing in about playing here or whatever."
"Really? Seem more like a pink bunny slippers kinda girl," Lillith says, lips pressed together in a faint smile. She does give a curt nod at Tiffany's advice. "I probably will. Just wanted to check out the crowd. No sense in playing somewhere if I'm gonna be felt up the whole night. Hard to sing, play guitar, and punch at the same time. Not impossible though..." She tilts her head back, finishing off her beer, setting it down on the bar before holding out her hand to the girl. "Lillith."
"I got the blood of my enemies on them," Tiffany offers of her pink bunny slippers. Setting down her can, she accepts Lillith's hand with a delicate one of her own. Her nails are painted a deep maroon. Very uh, summery. "Tiffany. And I know it's illegal, but you might want to just start setting them aflame." She flicks some ash from her cigarette.
"Oh, a little peroxide will get that right out," Lillith offers in regards to enemy blood stained bunny slippers. "Believe me, the thought has occurred to me. Maybe just their pants. Nothing important in there, right?" She gives Tiffany a firm shake before reclaiming her hand and resuming her lean against the bar.
"Said the self proclaimed penis leaner," Tiffany doesn't quiet her voice when she says, 'penis.' She seems to get a kick out of the heads she causes to turn in their direction. Her handshake is meak at best. Certainly not firm. "What's your band called?" Lowering her head, she gives Lillith a very dark look, "Is it something really lame?"
"Hey, I'm picky about what penises I bring home," Lillith says, having no trouble saying the word 'penis' either, perhaps challenging Tiffany in a way. "We tried to weed out the really lame ones, like Mouse Rat or The Tiffany Project. Half the band threatened to quit when our drummer suggested it. We settled on Emerald Red. At least, that's what it's been for the last six months, we'll see how long it lasts."
"That's stupid. I hate it. It's cool, I guess," Tiffany looks back to her can and fiddles with the aluminum tab. She idly switches her crossed legs, "What do you play? Oh, right. You said guitar. --Well, what kind of music is it?"
"Oh, yeah, eight years is like, nothing," Tiffany blinks expressionlessly. Eight years is a long fucking time. "I'm teacher but I teach animals. Well, more like a professor. Have you ever read Animal Farm? Anyway, I'm preparing them for the revolution and slaughter of mankind." Deadpan. "Are they just going to rule together or is it gonna be a...Hunger Games of different species with one coming out on top?" Lillith isn't quite as deadpan, her voice soft but dark and an amused smirk permanently featured on her face. "I hope the bunnies win."
"Rabbits are actually like, really aggressive animals. But to answer your question: Yes." Tiffany's eyes widen and narrow as she takes a drag. "I'm a poet. I write erotic poetry. And I do a bunch of shitty, super shady odd jobs like stalk people's spouses for them. So, you could say I'm a really interesting person."
"Erotic poetry? That explains why you know so much about rabbits," Lillith says, turning to look out over the crowd, eyes narrowing at a man seated a few tables away openly leering at them. "And is there anyone around here who /doesn't/ do super shady jobs occasionally."
Tiffany doesn't have to look around to respond. "No, you're in like, a really shitty neighborhood. It's really terrible here." Mutant Town. Seriously.
Lillith's eyes tear themselves away from the man as she resumes watching the bar as a whole. That smirk fades, replaced by an overall somber tone. She takes a deep breath, releasing it as a long sigh. "Home sweet home."Without another word, Tiffany brings up her Tecate. She taps it against Lillith’s in solidarity before throwing the remainder of the beer back. Cheers to that.