[D2 EN] Sultans of Swing (Lounge, OPEN)

[Chantelle Rossette]

Chantelle had talked to her boss, Gabriel, the previous night, about perhaps needing some time off. They'd worked together for three years, and the egret considered him a friend, in so much as someone could be a boss and a friend. She wanted to come in, if she could, Chantelle enjoyed her job, even the menial parts after Lounge closed for the night, and she helped shutting things down. Aside from that, she could feel the beginnings of hunger nibbling at the edges of her mind. It was subtle, just the first hints of that emptiness that had come back with her from the Hedge, but she sought to quench it all the same.

Being the middle of the week, there were only a handful of patrons: some die-hard regulars who came to the bar instead of going home, a tourist or two, a small group of friends with something to celebrate who'd heard about the place from a friend. Out-of-towners were always good targets, brimming with curiosity that could so easily be turned to fascination; in a few days they'd go home and she'd never have to see them again.

Picking a tourist, a man in his thirties who hadn't brought a suit to wear, not knowing that he'd end up in a place like this, he seemed a little uncomfortable as Chantelle took the stage, underdressed and out of his depth. He grew nervous, as Chantelle turned her chocolate eyes to him, but as she began to weave her songs, everything else melted away, until he was unaware of anything but the two of them, lost in his own little world.

---
(( Sultans of Swing - Dire Straits ))

[D2 EN] Fascinating Song, Initial Roll (Presence 4, Expression 4, Singing 1, Fair Harvest, Dramatic Voice +1, Striking Looks +1): 11d10ro7h8 3 + [D2 EN] Fascinating Song, Exploding 10s: 2d10o10h8 3

TOTAL HARVEST: 6 Glamour

[Jack Doyle]

Jack sat in a far corner of the room, draped in shadow.

[Craig Walker]

Craig wasnt much of a lounge person, more of a dive bar kind of guy but every once in a while a change of pace was for the best. Tonight he sat at the bar watching the woman sing, it wasnt his kind of music honestly but he had to admit that she could certainly sing and wasnt hard on the eyes either.

For now he sat and watched probably sticking out a bit in boots and jeans with a plain white shirt under his army jacket. If that didnt his mein certainly wasnt designed for subtlety being a tad over 7 feet tall and glowing. He watched and drank knowing he'd hate himself in the morning for drink and being out so late. But sometimes it was worth it.

[Chantelle Rossette]

When her set ended, the stage lights went down, and Chantelle sashayed down the three steps to return to the main floor. She recognised Craig from the crawdad boil, he’d been dancing with one of the other Spring courtiers. Her cocktail dress shimmered a little in the low lights as she made her way over to him.

The beak didn’t move when she smiled, but her cheeks did, and her expression was readable, “mais, evenin’ stranga, nice to see you agai’. Chantelle Rossette,” she introduced herself.

[Craig Walker]

A walk like that was intentional, it was to be noticed and Craig obliged, his eyes taking in her swaying hips as she approached the giant. A study in dichotomy they were one slender, graceful, fragile looking the other big, blunt, sturdy. Their apparent differences flashed through his mind as she approached him.

But he returned her smile easily the black mask of obsidian that made up his face splitting as a molten orange exposed itself "Hey there, I remember you from the broil the other night. Spent most of it tied up with a wolf if memory serves. You were quite something up there if I do say so myself." He said gesturing with his beer to the stage, his voice was clearly not local, something northern maybe New York but if so it was only the slightest accent. His molten orange eyes resting back on the egret as a lazy smile settled onto his lips as he leaned back against the bar motioning to the stool next to him "seat's open if you want it." He said casually.

[Chantelle Rossette]

Chantelle nodded to Gabriel, who owned and tended the bar, and a glass of sparkling water with a twist of lime was placed in front of her as she arranged herself on one of the stools. Turning her large chocolate coloured eyes back to Craig, “mais, than’ you,” she answered his compliment with suitable modesty. There was a straw in her glass and she sipped delicately, the egret was slim and fragile next to Craig’s mountain of muscle, her entire head could fit in one of his hands.

“An’ it woul’ be impossible to ‘ave no’ seen you,” the summer courtiers tended on the large size, but as best she could recall, none of the others had been made of lava. “Do you know Marcus?” she wasn’t expecting a yes, she wasn’t bosom buddies with all the Spring courtiers either.

[Craig Walker]

Craig smiled, his voice whatever the accent was deep and rich with a smoothness to it. It was a sound that matched the chocolate color of her eyes "Well it seems we both stand out for our own reasons." He turned on his stool to face her, he still leaned on the bar as he looked at her.

At her question he shook his head "Can't say that I do, I'm betting hes new around here. I know all the local summer Lost but he doesnt ring a bell."

[Chantelle Rossette]

“Seems to be a lo’ of dat goin’ ‘roun’,” Chantelle smiled easily, her eyes expressive. The scent of flowers lingered around her, mingled with curiosity, “I’ve bee’ in Minuit fo’ a few years, bu’ I only bee’ back a few monts.” The -th at the end of ‘month’ sounded like a T when she said it.

[Craig Walker]

Craig nodded "Ah yes, I've been here a few years myself, this is where I ended up after I got back." He said with a contemplative tone that melted into a smooth smile "but that explains why I haven't noticed you until recently" he shifted on his stool a bit his knee brushing hers briefly, it was warm but not hot the way one might expect from his appearance "I would have remembered seeing someone like you around."

[Chantelle Rossette]

Chantelle placed a long-fingered hand on the obsidian giant’s arm, and found the warmth pleasant, even comforting. “Mais, dey say flatt’ry’ll ge’ you everywhere. I daresay I’m gra’ful to mee’ a friendly face, it’s bee’ har’ learnin’ de ropes on my own.”