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Bah.
It's bedtime. Sadly.
And! And, since I will be gone most of the rest of this weekend type thingie, I'm going to put spam here. 'Cause, well, I can't finish this before bed, and I won't have any free time to work on it tomorrow.
So. Happy birthday, IndiJ. :)
It wasn't the kind of place he was expecting. His imaginings, if he'd had any, were of a small dance club. With maybe a few discreet corners and nooks tucked away for those who couldn't wait.
He'd gotten the muted lighting right.
The clientele seemed to consist of leather-clad biker types. Some appeared to be female, but he wasn't completely certain. Every age range abounded, some even old enough to be his great-grandmother. The decor was stark black with silver and white accents, infrequent hanging iron chains, and a few glass art pieces that could be described as either ludicrous or sensual. The music blasted from what seemed to be thirty hidden speakers, a deep bass driving the over-modulated voice into androgyny. There didn't appear to be lyrics, just a thumping, shrieking chorus of sounds.
She was in the middle of it all, black leather and silver studs molded to her body as if it were painted on. Her dancing was almost frantic, as if she were trying to be something she wasn't.
Or maybe trying to forget who she was.
Nathan shouldered his way into the crowd around her, and caught a flailing wrist. She phazed out of his frasp, whirling to glare at him, her brown eyes widening in surprise as she recognised him.
He gestured over his shoulder towards the entrance, and tried to yell over the music, "We need to talk!"
She shook her head, turning away and back into her crowd of admirers.
::Either come peacefully, or--::
::Or what?:: Her mind snarled at him, projecting almost as well as a telepath's. ::Get the fuck out of my head.::
If looks could have killed, the glare she was sending him would have dropped him with a massive heart-attack.
::Kitty--::
::No.:: Barriers slammed against him, wrapping themselves around her mind and blocking any access he might have had. Pushing at them, he wondered if it had been Rachel who'd taught her to shield like this.
Someone rubbed up against him and he jumped, staring down at the short blonde who'd apparently decided to come and dance with him. Her cleavage-baring halter top looked like it would fall off if she continued bouncing in such a distracting manner. Nate shook his head, trying to clear it as his eyes followed the line of skin down the side of her pants.
Kitty was watching him from her nest of dancers, eyes amused. He sighed and shrugged, and commenced... dancing.
-=-
It was one of the most amusing sights she'd ever seen. The staid, autocratic, mercenary, Cable. Getting down with his bad self in a club. And he was actually a decent dancer--for a white man from the future. Kitty felt almost charitable towards him.
Even though he'd tried telepathy on her. In retrospect, she really had no reason for being so angry. This was her vacation, but...
But nothing, she decided as one of her admirers was dragged off by his irritated girlfriend. A tickle of amusement touched her and she smirked after him. It wasn't often that men crawled all over her, crowding around as she danced or walked or laughed. Of course, most of it was probably her outfit. Rachel would have approved.
---------endspam---
And! And, since I will be gone most of the rest of this weekend type thingie, I'm going to put spam here. 'Cause, well, I can't finish this before bed, and I won't have any free time to work on it tomorrow.
So. Happy birthday, IndiJ. :)
It wasn't the kind of place he was expecting. His imaginings, if he'd had any, were of a small dance club. With maybe a few discreet corners and nooks tucked away for those who couldn't wait.
He'd gotten the muted lighting right.
The clientele seemed to consist of leather-clad biker types. Some appeared to be female, but he wasn't completely certain. Every age range abounded, some even old enough to be his great-grandmother. The decor was stark black with silver and white accents, infrequent hanging iron chains, and a few glass art pieces that could be described as either ludicrous or sensual. The music blasted from what seemed to be thirty hidden speakers, a deep bass driving the over-modulated voice into androgyny. There didn't appear to be lyrics, just a thumping, shrieking chorus of sounds.
She was in the middle of it all, black leather and silver studs molded to her body as if it were painted on. Her dancing was almost frantic, as if she were trying to be something she wasn't.
Or maybe trying to forget who she was.
Nathan shouldered his way into the crowd around her, and caught a flailing wrist. She phazed out of his frasp, whirling to glare at him, her brown eyes widening in surprise as she recognised him.
He gestured over his shoulder towards the entrance, and tried to yell over the music, "We need to talk!"
She shook her head, turning away and back into her crowd of admirers.
::Either come peacefully, or--::
::Or what?:: Her mind snarled at him, projecting almost as well as a telepath's. ::Get the fuck out of my head.::
If looks could have killed, the glare she was sending him would have dropped him with a massive heart-attack.
::Kitty--::
::No.:: Barriers slammed against him, wrapping themselves around her mind and blocking any access he might have had. Pushing at them, he wondered if it had been Rachel who'd taught her to shield like this.
Someone rubbed up against him and he jumped, staring down at the short blonde who'd apparently decided to come and dance with him. Her cleavage-baring halter top looked like it would fall off if she continued bouncing in such a distracting manner. Nate shook his head, trying to clear it as his eyes followed the line of skin down the side of her pants.
Kitty was watching him from her nest of dancers, eyes amused. He sighed and shrugged, and commenced... dancing.
-=-
It was one of the most amusing sights she'd ever seen. The staid, autocratic, mercenary, Cable. Getting down with his bad self in a club. And he was actually a decent dancer--for a white man from the future. Kitty felt almost charitable towards him.
Even though he'd tried telepathy on her. In retrospect, she really had no reason for being so angry. This was her vacation, but...
But nothing, she decided as one of her admirers was dragged off by his irritated girlfriend. A tickle of amusement touched her and she smirked after him. It wasn't often that men crawled all over her, crowding around as she danced or walked or laughed. Of course, most of it was probably her outfit. Rachel would have approved.
---------endspam---