4201/A classic night out

A classic night out
Date of Scene:	22 November 2020
Location:	Harlem's Speakeasy
Synopsis:	Blake and Ariah go out for a night on the town and meet a familier 'face' before inviting them out for a drink.
Cast of Characters:	Blake Riviere, Ariah Olivie, Slips

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Blake Riviere has posed:
One shouldn't really be suprised that an immortal would grow nostalgic, should they? Of course, Blake hadn't lived in some far off remote castle with a keep and a dungeon for centuries and she was very much a fan of some of humanity's greatest achievements in comfort such as refigeration, central heating and spa-jet bathtubs, but sometimes it was nice to take a step back to the trappings of yester-year. To that effect Blake had invited Ariah out to 'Harlem's Speakeasy, a classic little nostalgic touch of the 1920's and a chance for another night out after the last had been interupted with bullets and bloodshed.

Wrapped in a long black dress that might have looked true to period were it not for the embelishment of the deep red ribbons she wore tying her hair back in a low ponytail and the choker at her neck, Blake stepped through the door and into the little hideaway.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Ariah, to her credit, cleans up rather nice and donned some fancy dress at the behest of her sire. A blood red backless dress, short sleeves and a dip in the front for a hint of cleavage, and a wide brimmed hat with a black veil hanging in front of it. Knee-high boots with a low heel in the same color, just leather, rounds out the look entirely. She's even got long opera gloves on, red velvet shining in the dim light. She was born in 1920, and didn't live through them, but there's no harm in looking the part now is there?

Slips has posed:
Slips, as Arya Joshi tonight, is dressed in an emerald green flapper dress with long fringe and black detail.  She is already at the bar, drinking what looks to be an Old Fashioned.  A pair of short, soft white leather gloves are across her lap.  Her hair is short, but kept modern for the night, blown dry.

Slips' hand curls her glass around as she leans on her elbow, looking down the bar to scan who is about and perhaps onward, though casually, to whoever just walked in.  Her head tilts and she unfurls her hand to take a sip as a small knowing smile curls onto her lips.

Blake Riviere has posed:
Despite her abilities and plenty of mythology to the mix, Blake wasn't appearing in the face of another. She'd be recognized by Slips, even if this time she wasn't dressed in pyjamas and baring both fangs and glowing eyes. Perfect makeup, perfectly normal smile, the raven-haired woman made her way towards the bar with a glance and a wink toward her companion. "It is good to indulge in a classic, non?" she questions, accent slipping into that rare but comfortable French tones. Her mouth opens to say more, then there's a pause, a tilt of her head...and a sniff of the air.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    "You know I only indulge in such attire when you ask me to, mon cher..." Ariah says quietly, coldly. Her face is well hidden beneath that semi-sheer veil, only the hints of dark red lipstick seen, catching the light a little when she speaks. "You spoil me, but please do not thing that I am unappreciative," she states, lingering close, just shy of being hand-in-hand with the ravenette.

Slips has posed:
Slips' eyes drop to Blake's choker quickly, like she can't help but case the two as the pair get further into the establishment.  She turns back to sip on her Old Fashioned.  It's a coincidence that Slips first shifted her clothing and then the rest of her body when she first met Blake.  It's the only explanation for that scent ever transferring with her.  A mistake that might prick a memory.

"Another one please?" Slips signals the bartender.

Blake Riviere has posed:
Eyes werre one thing, a sense more easily fooled than others. At least for some anyway. Blake's eyes shift, crossing gazes with Slip's own eyes as they move over her choker and attire. Of course, such an outfit had been intended to draw the eye, draw someone in with temptation in exchange for a drink the bar itself couldn't provide. But two and two can be placed a little quicker for a vampiress who'd caught the scent of a certain home invader.

"How curious..."

A murmer aloud before her gaze shifts back to Ariah and her words, that smile returning with a soft laugh. "I've never found you unappreciative, nor do I think I give you more than you deserve, mon chaton..."

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    The hitch, the pause, and the 'sniff' seems to make Ariah consider Slips. She tilts her head up, the wide brim of her hat and her own diminutive height making it a little less convenient when almost everyone else is taller than you. Dull silver eyes take in Slips' form, head to toe and back again. The words, too, add to her confusion, concern, and consideration, but she returns her attention to Blake. "You have give me far more than I could ever ask for, mon cher. Merci," she says quietly, politely.

Slips has posed:
Slips, however, is quite unaware of her own detection.  After so long, there are well, little slips, and she has only learned that they make life a shade less dull.  Still, this one, this one might get to be a surprise.

Looking back their way, Slips catches Ariah looking her up and down, which only prompts an arched brow, followed by her draining the last two sips of her drink only to be greeted by another.

Curious or precaution?  Slips tracks them from the corner of her eye as she turns to grab her drink.  "You are a good man," and he also has a crap ton of credit cards back there.

Blake Riviere has posed:
Finally at the counter they arrive, black and red on both with a shock of white in the form of Ariah's locks. Her path by design draws her -right- beside Slips, regardless of their current form. A signal for a drink, her 'interuption' might seem almost a little sudden when one delicate hand lazily reaches out, touching the other woman's back. It might seem innocent enough, just leaning past, but Slips herself and Ariah's own enhanced hearing would pick up her soft murmer clear:

"So you -do- visit places you're actually invited?"

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Ariah takes her place on Blake's other side, staying close as she waits for her turn to order. Something sweet and colorful is on her menu. A Tokyo Tea. It might be her go-to when going out if she can't have certain... other treats from behind the counter. The sound, the words, she does pick up, and gives a sidelong glance to Blake, and then Slips afterwards.

Slips has posed:
Keenly aware of the two's location, Slips grins when she feels the hand at her back, but then at those words, her glass hangs between her fingers, lazily gripped high on the glass...it freezes mid journey before it ever reaches her mouth, just hangs in the air at those words.  The silence seems to hang along with it.

"Shit."  Indeed. The last thing Slips needs is other immortal creatures knowing her secrets.  They'll take them to their graves!  "Yes.  Well, sometimes drinking at home alone loses its glamor."  As if that's why she's really here...?  She glances toward Ariah.  "And were you invited?" not giving a damn about the cheesiness, owning it with her glibness.

Blake Riviere has posed:
A little shift, there's a slight gesture with her head to suggest, ever so subtly to Ariah to take her place. Blake herself? She moves lazily around to Slip's other side, leading a smooth transition to what's almost certainly a sandwich of vampire. Not that Slips could know exactly who or what the mysterious Ariah was. "Oh," she smiles, lazily leaning to collect her drink and shrugging her bared shoulders. "Don't you recall? I do not need an invitation..."

She shifts now, tones soft and smooth but the language different as explaination is offered to Ariah in native tongue. "<This one broke into my house...stole my wallet, if you'd believe.>"

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    "I am her date," Ariah responds, simply, coldly, as she answers Slips' question. And then moves where indicated. She's so tiny and well dressed and well behaved. Clearly she's just the elder vampire's arm candy and meal for the night.. right? Surely. As the French is spoken, though, she lifts a snowy brow and responds in kind, <<Did she now? What are we to do with her?>> Slips is given another appraising glance, though the sound of the bartender mixing up someone's drink, not necessarily hers, earns a glance back over the counter.

Slips has posed:
"Yes.  I remember my education.  I'm not that old."  Yes she is.  Slips just has the blessing of renewing her cells.  "I wasn't speaking to you, I was admiring you," she offers Ariah, but with a slight grin.

Then she lifts her glass to the woman in a casual toast, "Lucky you."  Siiip.  At all the French flying around, Slips just seems to ignore it with merely a glance to one side and then the other.

Blake Riviere has posed:
A little shrug, a raised hand excentuating the gesture, Blake smiles past Slips to Ariah with just a little more of those french tones. "<<I don't know just yet. Perhaps we'll decide later. This is -both- our night out after all.>>"

Back to Slips and to English, there's a sip of her own drink and a tilt of her head before she gestures to the woman's face. "This though, this is different I think...but I am not so sure. Perhaps I should have been asking more questions of your rather than indulging your curiousity."

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Ariah's brow lifts at the words cast in her direction. "Admiring me?" she inquires, perplexed. She is usually the one doing the hunting, not the other way around. "Merci," she says simply in response, then her drink arrives. She takes it, and sips it, quite slowly. <<If no harm was truly done, then must harm come to be? You seem more amused than angered, mother.>> soft, cool tones in French, cast gently towards her fellow vampiress.

Slips has posed:
"Yes, but should you want any answers, I wouldn't ask them here," Slips says to Blake while quirking a smile to Ariah.  She nods affirmatively and doesn't say anything of the French.  Letting the two women continue to talk as she pieces what they're saying together.  She sips at her drink and doesn't move a muscle, still relaxed as ever.

Blake Riviere has posed:
"<<I caught her,>>" Blake explains before she shrugs and closes her eyes. She tilts her head, looking back to the topic sitting between them. "Well," she switches back to English once more. "She discovered certain things, but we had a lovely chat. To encounter each other in the 'wild' however? How fun!"

The offer for questions elsewhere? Blake shrugs. "I am in no hurry. We are here to enjoy our time."

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    A slight shrug of a bare shoulder and Ariah resumes nursing her drink. If Blake requires her, she'll say so. Or she'll feel it through their link. She listens to the enthusiasm in her sire's voice, and a ghost of a smile tugs at the corners of her lips. "...our last date was interrupted..." she says quietly, as if to elaborate some further unnecessary detail. "Business calls at the most inopportune times."

Slips has posed:
"Neither am I," revealing that Slips was merely setting terms or drawing borders.  It's clear when she figures out (rather quickly) that they are talking about her, but only after they switch over to English.  She nods and then looks to Ariah.  "Business?  What kind of business?"  Because she can't help but claw at a thread.  Information is one of her chief currencies.

Blake Riviere has posed:
There's a tutting of her tongue, a smile of Blake's painted lips and a little wave of her finger at the side of her glass. "Now now, you had your night of questions. You'll have to wait your next turn, which means you'll have to wait till we've had ours 'elsewhere' by your own request. Apparently, Ariah had been casually roped into the questioning opportunity offered, even if she were to be there for company rather than sharing the same curiousity.

"Still, she is correct. Our last attempt to go out for an evening of entertainment and to share a drink was rather rudely cut short. Hopefully those in an establishment as...different as this? They'll be a little more accomodating."

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Ariah seems to not mind dangling the thread. She might not be as socially agile as her sire or other vampires that might be about, but she's got a decent imagination--and has been doing this for several decades. "Have you ever had old friends who pop out of the woodwork when you least expect them? The sort of friends who never seem to get the message when you cut ties with them?" she asks. "...such friends found us and decided we -must- get in on some ground level investment..." She exhales a long sigh before taking an equally long drink. "I do not gamble, and the stock market is even worse. Our evening was interrupted and soured substantially..." She shakes her head and swirls her half-glass of green cocktail, a decided contrast to her crimson attire.

Slips has posed:
Slips grins and shrugs, her head tilting to the side innocently, but the twinkle in her eye not so much.  She looks over to Ariah and listens as she nurses her drink.  "I'm sorry.  I don't really have that problem, but it sounds pretty awful...while you were on a date?!"  It suddenly all rolls into her head at once.  "I can see why you cut ties with them.  I'm not ruining your second evening by asking you about your first getting blown up am I?"  She presses her lips together, her brows furrowing.

Blake Riviere has posed:
A laugh, a sip of her own clear drink, Blake seems rather amused by Ariah's explaination. The black-haired vampiress reaches out, a squeeze sought of Ariah's hand that managed to 'hem' Slips in just a little. It could be accidental, or part of that very deliberate 'dance' that came from hunting.

That question? It brings a smirk to the corner of her lips, a questioning glance to Ariah. "I do not think so," she purrs. "What do you think mon chaton? Shall we invite her to join us for a drink this evening?"

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Ariah shakes her head, "Non, the company is appreciated..." she says quietly, despite knowing the circumstances of the familarity now. She reaches behind Slips, taking the hand from Blake, careful not to brush it against Slips while she's at it. "If she is willing," she states, cool and even. "Would you take issue with such an invitation?" she looks to Slips, asking her directly.

Slips has posed:
"Good."  It seems to please the thief.  She grins down as she stares into the remaining liquid in her glass.  Then she looks from one to the other, then down to the arms she caught out of the corner of her eye.  "Sure.  Why not?  You only live once," she says with with a little laugh.

Slips lifts her glass to drain the rest of it and gets the attention of the bartender.  "I'd like to settle up."  Her card and bill come which she signs Arya Joshi.  "Thanks."

Blake Riviere has posed:
A smile, a nod. After all, it seemed Ariah and Blake shared a particular value. At least they both -asked- if Slips wanted to join them for a drink, whatever that might entail.

"Life is for living, and experiencing!" she declares, laying aside her own drink and squeezing Ariah's hand before stepping back with a beckoning to the pair.

"Well then, shall we take a walk in the moonlight?"

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Ariah finishes her own drink and lays cash for it on the counter, gesturing to the bartender as her free hand squeezes Blake's. "Merci. Keep the change," she states. It's not a huge tip, maybe five dollars over the price of the drink, but it's there, and she wasn't exactly being rowdy or loud or rude. The quiet pale young woman nods in agreement to Blake's announcement and promise of making merriment. "The night is still young, mon cher," she says quietly to Slips and moves to follow her elder.

Slips has posed:
It's a courtesy that does not go unnoticed by the thief.  Slips grins at their little proverbial dance, very familiar with tales of cats and mice.  But there is no keeping this creature away, no quelling of her curiosity.  "Indeed."  She nods and grins, rising to follow after the other two only a step or two behind.