2/4/2003

12:06 AM

Logfile from Tomite.

 

Fate or Fantasy

Upon emerging from the entry hall, visitors enter a chamber painted in royal blue and rich purple softly lit by subtly romantic recessed lighting. Much of the club is dominated by a raised stage more akin to a Y-shaped catwalk; during business hours, beautiful men and women entertain the audience from this elevated vantage. In keeping with the club's theme, both the wait staff and the exotic dancers are adorned in tantalizing revisions of historical and mythological 'costumes'.

The left wall is dominated by an opulently carved bar of dark maple, with the requisite stools along its entire length; beyond lies an arched entryway leading to the kitchen and office area. Velvet-draped round 'tables' surround most of the stage, while the rear wall boasts five private booths for larger parties as well as a staff entrance to the performers' area. Opposite the catwalk is a smaller, more traditional stage used for live music or to showcase visiting dancers. Extending off the right hand side of the club, a hallway leads to payphones, restrooms, and one of the emergency exits.

Posted near the entrance, and again by the bar and restrooms, is the club's 'policy' regarding proper behavior of both its employees and customers. Another 'sign' lists the club's hours and other information.

Inami is here.

Obvious exits:

Exit

 

John is standing just inside the door of the club, taking his turn as doorman in the small, lit alcove.  He's pretty good at being doorman;  Very few people try to mess with a seven-foot-high guy known as 'Little John' to his fellow staff.  The problem is, he tends to dislike being the doorman and standing in one place for hours on end.  So, there he is, decked out in a costume as per the club's theme.  Of course, for him, all he had to do was add the leather chaps and fake gun belt, and stick on some spurs.  Leaning slightly against the wall, he boredly holds out his hand for the next ID.

 

 

Chase draws into the entrance hall, hand coming up to readjust the ball cap perched upon his head. He smiles. I mean? What else can he do? After he heard mention of this place, and whose it was, and even the part about him not being the one to come here, the teenager simply had to come. Right?... Right. Waiting in line, he moves up one more spot... another... another... finally up to the bouncer.

 

 

John looks down at the next person in line, and his eyes narrow slightly.  Looking Chase over in an unhurried manner, he holds out his hand. "ID."  Even his words are unhurried, as the statement comes out in a low, rumbly sound that sounds more like 'iiiiiiiideeeee.'  Still, something in his expression shows that he's just taken a particular interest in this customer."

 

Chase reaches a hand around to rub at the back of his neck as that silly feeling comes again. Has to be the owner... At the prompt though, he delves a hand into a pocket and comes up with the ID. The fake ID. See, he is a youthful 22. And it is rather professionally done. Spent a bit of money on that one. Anywho, it is handed over and Chase is flickering a glance at the bouncer, and then again. *stare*

 

John checks it over only enough to make certain that nobody can say he's not doing his job, and hands it back after a moment, brows furrowing. 22?  The guy sure doesn't look 22!  And look at the way that kid's staring at him! He decides to make a guess, folding his arms across his chest. "Good fake."  Although, as he's not sure if it really /is/ fake, he doesn't block the way into the club.  Sometimes his hunches pan out, sometimes they don't.

 

Inami

John resembles, more than anything else, a bear. His build is thick around a sturdy frame that towers at seven feet tall, with muscle to fill it out proportionately. However, much like the grizzly he so resembles, John has ample padding that might lead one to believe he was a heavyset individual before his growth spurts. His posture tends to slouch relaxedly as a rule, conveying a laid-back attitude towards life, an expression continued by the block-like jaw rimmed with a well-trimmed goatee. Bulbously nosed, the brown whiskers soften the harsh lines of his face and nearly conceal a jagged scar down his left cheek, which runs from the corner of his eyebrow. His hair is worn slightly shaggy on top, almost enough to overshadow his deepset, ponderous blue eyes.

He wears a black tee-shirt that tucks into faded jeans, punctuated with a battered grey stetson and cowboy boots, all tailored to make up for his size.

Inami appears to be 31 years, 10 months, and 9 days old.

He is awake and looks alert.

 

Chase is still busily studying the man, hand still rubbing at his neck now and again. All of that squinting and peering though makes him a little slow noticing other things. Beat. "Wait? A /fake/. Did you look at the date, man? That's no fake. Go get the owner of this place. I know her." A hand reaches over to tap the card again, "See. That is government issue. Check it again."

 

John quirks a faint, ghost of a smile, tugging at the bandanna around his neck. After a moment, he shrugs, and places the 'Over 21' stamp on Chase's hands, mellow blue gaze flickering up to meet Chase's.  "Happy?" He asks, expression oddly intent.

 

"No." Chase immediately answers, stepping to the side to allow others to pass inside. Nope, the teenager is still squinting at at John, even leaning towards him a little -as if that is going to help. "Is she here? The owner? You know... her..." Unfortunately, he can't remember her name.

Typical, but understandable. Far too many having been bandied about lately.

John gestures to another one of the bouncers to take over, and steps away from the small alcove, ducking through the doorframe after Chase. He motions for Chase to follow, supplying the name. "Miss Breslin."  Then, if the teen follows him, he'll start working his way through the club, heading for the back.

 

And it is at that moment when John turns and he is following after, that Chase simply stares at the bouncer. Sure, he was staring before, but now it suddenly intensifies. It is right on the tip of his tongue... something. But, he follows after, tucking the ID back in his pocket, frowning at the name given, and murmuring, "No, not that one."

 

John leads the way to a small, curtained off table, gesturing for Chase to be seated.  His smile intensifies to something tangible, as he settles his bulk down on the other side of the booth.  For a moment, he just watches Chase in return, then rumbles, "She is out.  But I have been waiting for you."  It's downright wordy, for him.  "Beer?" He queries, inclining his head to one side.

 

Chase frowns rather furiously at the news. "Out? Then who is..." Oh... Oh! Head turns back to look at John, and then he is abruptly pointing at the older man. "It's gotta be you!" A breath. "Genbu," he mutters in a not-so-honorable way. Eyes are narrowed, "But it didn't feel quite right. Are you...?"

 

John leans back, rubbing at his whiskers placidly.  His expression softens to quiet affection, as he sits out the younger sei's startlement without batting a lash.  "Yes." He answers, folding his meaty hands. "Surprised?"

 

Chase remains standing, and then is abruptly waving both hands back and forth before him. "WaitWaitWaitWait! What in the hell are you doing here? /Here/! In New York, and why the hell haven't you found us!" A breath, "Has Anana glomped you yet and she didn't tell me?" Another breath. "Yes, I'm surprised, you idiot!"

 

John shakes his head, gaze alight with quiet bemusement. "I have been working." He comments, sticking his head out of the curtain long enough to gesture for a pitcher of beer. Early lunch hour is definitely in order, here.  Sitting back again, he continues to regard Chase with that ever-patient expression of his.  "No, but you found me. I waited."   Well, at least he's getting more talkative than he does with most people.

 

Chase blinks and then plops into a seat, yanks off his ball cap, sets it into his lap, and then rakes his fingers through his hair roughshod. "So you just sat around... /here/ waiting for one of us to show up, take you by the hand, and such?" He shakes his head from side to side,

"Un-freakin'-believeable. You are a card, man." He dusts a hand off on his shirt and then extends it across to him, "And what do I call you, Inami? I'm Will Isard, but everyone calls me Chase."

 

John grasps Chase's hand and shakes it, engulfing it in his own meaty paw.  "Yes." He didn't know where to look, after all, and he's been in New York with his memories for some three years, soo.. He figured if he hung around an obvious seishi like the owner, his own would pick him up sooner or later. Which makes sense, and it worked, for that matter! And he'd say so, but it's not his way.  "They call me little John here.  I am John Tibbs." He comments, relaxedly. He doesn't care what people call him, really.  It's just like him, too.

 

"Hah! Little John, I like that. Its a good one, buddy," Chase replies with a laugh. "Yeah, I've been around for a couple of weeks actually is all. Well, that is... I've been in the city for a month, but as for it all connecting in here," head is tapped, "just been a couple of weeks."

 

John grins widely, cuffing poor Chase on the shoulder affectionately. "Then you worry too much."  A few weeks isn't bad at all! He got all /his/ memories back during the accident, three years ago.  Receiving the pitcher, he pours out a glass of beer for each of them, looking pleased.  "Who else?"

 

Ow. Chase is cuffed, and a hand reaches up to rub at his smarting shoulder now. "Who else? Ohhhh, we've got Hatsui. The girl is twelve years old, has /pink/ hair, and is easily bribed with candy. She's already managed to get herself into a bit of trouble. And then there is big brother. The guy looks /exactly/ the same, but he is a wee bit fuzzy on things still now and again -kind of like me. Already the old roles are returning. Ash... Ohhhh, Ash, the miko. I live just down the hall from her." His smile drifts slightly before he is blinking back to John. "They will just freak when they hear you are around. Anana will glomp you. Be prepared."

 

John pours out two glasses of beer, nodding slowly. "Okay." He replies, taking a sip from his own glass and smiling apologetically at the shoulder-rubbing.  He leans back in his seat, eyebrows arching slowly. "She sounds like my daughter."  Well, he sure didn't have kids last time, now did he?  Maybe its not all exactly the same as it was, that's for sure."

 

Chase reaches over to take a glass as well. Damn, it sure pays to have older companions about. "Your daughter? You've a daughter?" Yes, this requires further questioning. "Is she here? Well, I don't mean here. I mean in the city with you?" He leaps back in his seat as well, getting comfortable.

 

John still doesn't think Chase is twenty two, but it doesn't bother him that much.  Still, that's an unomfortable subject, and he seems to just clam up again, expression-wise, concentrating on his glass of beer. "Her name was Molly." He murmurs, taking a swig of his drink.  Other than that, he just doesn't say. Which is, well, common of him. "Are you happy, this life?"

 

Chase blinks at John for a moment, drawing conclusions. Ohhhhhh. Enlightened into this, he simply nods his head, a moment of companionable silence follows as he takes a drink as well. Good, subject change. "Oh? Yeah, sure. That I am. All is good. Going to school. NYU. Trying to keep my nose clean -or at least help the others think I am." *wink*

 

John relaxes once again; He's just not ready to talk about what happened with his family. It's why he had to move.. Everyone just treated him so differently, after the accident.  "You were never good at that." He does mention, swirling the amber liquid in his glass.  A Yeungling drinker, it would seem.  "Will this affect school?"

 

Settled back in an out of the way area of the establishment, both Chase and John are settled and nursing a couple of beers. "Will what...?" Chase blinks owlishly at him. "Ohhhhh! This?" And then his head shakes from side to side, "Not at all. And if it does, I don't really care. I'm just going to keep up appearances for the 'rents."

 

Clearly one of the wait staff, with her costume as it is and her hair pinned up in the old style, it's to the music of whistles that Catherine moves towards the bar and ducks underneath it, checking the levels of spirits in the bottles and that the on-tap beer kegs are full, etcetera. And if she gives the customers more than just their beers -- a smile, a wink or just that amount of leaning forward for a glimpse, well, it earns her more tips. Plus, it's fun.

 

John arches a dissaproving eyebrow at his fellow seishi-- It might be noted, as he works here and is just on a break, that he's a seven-foot guy dressed as a cowboy.  Cat might know him, since he's been a bouncer here since opening.  Well, and so help him, he stands out juuuuust a little. "Education is important." He comments, in his rumbly voice.  Mind you, he never went to college, but he's a firm believer in that if you do something, you do it right. Rustic pragmatism.  The older Genbu rubs at his goateee, looking thoughfully ponderous.

"Ah-ah, ah, there, my friend," Chase admonishes with a waggled finger. "I really don't need to have you on my case as well. Brice is more than enough for me as it is. Yeah, I /know/ it is important. It is just that I've got other things and well... you know." He takes a sip from the beer, smile crooked.

 

Ducking out from behind the bar again, as the other wait-staff are busy and it's not quite as busy right at the bar, Catherine glances around at the tables, then moves towards the pair in the back. Chase /does/ look vaguely familiar, after all. "Anything I can do for you?" she asks of the two, offering John a little bit of a smile. She hasn't quite learned that that question in this place isn't exactly the safest one to ask.

 

John nods agreeably to Catherine, extending a polite smile. He seems to go quiet again now that a stranger is around, but holds up the half-empty pitcher on the table, complacently.  It probably wouldn't hurt for a refill, after all.  Thankfully for Chase, this saves him a comment on his schooling.

 

Chase offers John up a wry grin before nodding just the slightest. At the query, he drops his head back to peer at the one who made the request. He is left to frown at her for a few moments, trying to resolve a brief acquaintance into this recognition now. "I know you." Simple, that.

 

Catherine is the essence of perfect timing when it comes to saving people from comments about education or lack thereof. Or comments, period. It just doesn't work on Lee. Taking the pitcher, she grins at John, then gives a rather inquisitive look to Chase. "You're the... fourth person who's told me that today. There's an awful lot of talk of being in love in past lives around here," she says, keeping a straight face -- but barely. "I think I've learned more new pick-up lines in the past two days than in my entire life. I'll be right back with this, then?"

 

John grunts into his beer, looking impassive (as usual).  "He's infatuated with someone else." He declares, gruffly.  Peering at Chase, he watches the younger seishi and then Catherine for a long moment, finally asking her, "New?"

 

Chase shoots a glare at John at those words, mutters something best left censored, and then is left to shake his head from side to side, "And when he speaks, what comes out is less than agreeable." He rolls his eyes and then gives Catherine another of those piercing looks. "No, I do. I know I do. But-" *Ting-a-ling-a-ling* Whoops. There goes the phone. Its is answered, mutter into, and then hung up. He sighs, looking apologetically back to John. "I've got to run. But... " A napkin is grabbed, pen is located, and he is scrawling numbers and addresses upon the napkin. It is handed over to John, "That's me. /Call/ me later."

 

Catherine nods at John. "Yep. Tori hired me a bit ago, but I needed to finish my job elsewhere, and she needed time to finish my outfit." She turns this way and that, looking herself over. "It's actually a good replica." Caught briefly by Chase's look, she grins suddenly. "Tell Anana, if you see her, that I said hi." Pause. "John, wasn't it? Do you still want a refill on this?"

 

John looks at the napkin, perplexed. He doesn't have a telephone, since he dislikes talking on them. "Will visit." He comments in a solemn tone, standing. "No. I'll help you with the bar." He adds. No reason to hang out if Chase is going, after all.  Well, he thinks she looks fine, but he's certainly not about to add to any list of come-ons. "Bye, Tomite."

 

Chase glances over his shoulder at Catherine, offering her up a broad grin and a finger pointed in her direction. "That I will.... Catherine." His smile manages to grow even wider as it is actually remembered correctly. A wink and then he is looking back to John. "We'll catch up. The others will flip." A wave of his hand and then the boy is trotting away and out the door.