[ with weyland in nyc ]

[tragic_mask]

They step through the door, and find themselves on the cracked sidewalk outside of a lively bar. A sign glows: "Blue Owl."

It's nighttime, but the city still glows with all kinds of light, and shakes with the noise of honking, shouting, music, the clinking of glasses, all blending together into the cacophony and symphony of the city.

Melpomene looks around. "Well, we're back... Right where I started."

Comments

[tragic_mask]

"Yes, I've been told so. But I never really believe the authenticity of the words of a man with alcohol on his breath." She grins. "But I suppose I've been plying you with my best tequila, so it's my fault."

[mechanicalswans]

"It's not the tequila, so much as the vodka, the... Scotch? and the beer that preceded it. And the cigarettes instead of dinner, that didn't help much either."

He chuckles quietly. "But it's true all the same."

[tragic_mask]

"Mmhmm," she says, doubtfully. "Well, I'll give you a night to sleep on that comment."

[mechanicalswans]

"Are you getting tired, then?" he asks. "I could stay right like this all night, but a fine guest I would be, keeping you awake and making you feel obligated to stay up with me."

[tragic_mask]

"No, no, I don't need to sleep. Really. But I was giving you the chance to sober up before you comment on my value." She casts a look at him. "Keep me up as long as you like."

[mechanicalswans]

"...what, you wouldn't want a bit of tipsy serenading?" he asks, grinning a bit. "I would sing outside your window, but it's all the way downstairs and I doubt I could be loud enough for you to hear all the way up here over the traffic. Some people would say that you get a more truthful opinion from someone who isn't sober, and isn't as inhibited from telling the truth..."

[tragic_mask]

"That could be true, but you don't seem as forthcoming as most uninhibited drunks, so I think those rules are off the table."

She ponders. "However, a tipsy serenade is always delightful. Or a tipsy tango. Rose in teeth, and all."

[mechanicalswans]

"Have you got any roses?" he asks. "It's not the same without them. But if not, I'm sure there are other dances that could be done. There's always waltzing, but it takes a lot of space. And I haven't really danced in a very long time."

[tragic_mask]

"Haven't you? Why, that's a man's ticket to success in my book. Have you keep up-to-date on the latest dances. And I don't mean the thrashing they do today-- foxtrot, rumba, those sorts of things."

She shakes her head. "If you don't know them, I will have to teach you, and sometime soon."

[mechanicalswans]

"I know them," he says, giving another light kiss to the side of her neck. "I'll have you know, back in the day when the only social options where I lived were going to church or going to the jazz club, I was quite a good dancer. I have an excellent sense of rhythm."

[tragic_mask]

"Oh, well, I'm sure. As soon as we can get some roses, then, I'll test that rhythm." She sways, eyes half-closed. "I love the tango. South American dances always have... soul."

[mechanicalswans]

"You'll have to help me with that, then," he says, swaying contentedly with her. "I may have technical precision, but I suspect that my dancing is lacking in soul. My family was never that kind of people."

[tragic_mask]

"Oh, but you can't do those sorts of dances without soul, just like you can't do them without roses. You have to do them with fire."

She stands, perhaps a bit tipsy herself but never admitting it, and demonstrates a cha-cha move. "Con pasíon."

[mechanicalswans]

He watches, with a smile. "We have fire, my people do, but we also have ice. The tango, I can do, because it's a cold sort of heat--it is passion, but it is formalized. We show our fire in other ways than dancing, unfortunately."

[tragic_mask]

"Well, depending on what you're referencing, that can't be all bad," she says, settling back onto his lap.

[mechanicalswans]

"...poetry," he says after a moment, slipping an arm around her again. "And fighting. And... singing, I suppose. And more fighting, going out and vanquishing things to impress a loved one and bring back pretty presents for her. And love itself, or at least the physical aspect of it."

[tragic_mask]

"See, everyone has their thing. I dance, you fight and sing. Et cetera." The only word for what she does next is giggle. The alcohol speaking, clearly.

[mechanicalswans]

"We are a movie musical just waiting to happen," he says with a grin. "But a costume epic, though. I think it would be too big a story to fit in modern constraints. You would play a... a queen, on some island in the Mediterranean somewhere, and I would be the commander of some fleet that was temporarily seeking harbor on your island en route to attacking somewhere else. But there would be musical numbers, and I would wind up distracted from the whole invasion plan."

[tragic_mask]

She shakes her head. "That's been done already. By me, in fact. But without the music. And I don't know how good of a musical it would make..."

[mechanicalswans]

"End the story before the tragic part happens," he says, "and it would be a perfectly good musical. No West Side Story with boats--I don't know how well it would adapt to being a comedy, but with the fire of the singing and dancing maybe no one would notice."

[tragic_mask]

She laughs. "Yes, maybe if we do it with enough enthusiasm, no one will notice that no one is lighting themselves on fire. We could have a sword fight number, though."

[mechanicalswans]

"A sword fight is a given," he says, "it's just a question of how to play it. Serious? Epic? A bit campy, perhaps? People tend to forget, but I was a very good fighter, and still am. I could do anything Errol Flynn could do, but without help or special effects. Of course, special effects make it more exciting."

[tragic_mask]

"I think we'd have to call in my sister to direct... I'd always be turning down ideas for being too silly."

[mechanicalswans]

"I will do exactly as I am told," he smiles. "Whatever ideas you and she think are appropriate, I would be willing. Though I would prefer not to wear tights, if at all possible--I don't like the feel of them."

[tragic_mask]

She goes wide-eyed. "Oh, but now I can't get that image out of my head!"