9315/Queen and Crowe: In Da Club
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| Queen and Crowe: In Da Club | |
|---|---|
| Date of Scene: | 28 December 2021 |
| Location: | The Underground Club, NYC |
| Synopsis: | No description |
| Cast of Characters: | Nettie Crowe, Oliver Queen
|
- Nettie Crowe has posed:
It was called, Uncreatively, The Underground. It was supposed to be the 'new and happening place' with a bit of an Occult flavor. Crystal Balls hung from thin wires from the ceiling, looking to float in place. The lighting was a mix of blues and pinks, casting mysterious purple shadows everywhere. The stools were meant to look like toadstools -- you get the drift. All in all, the place was very, very try-hard.
Nettie, clad in charcoal gray over-the-knee boots, a skirt that went just below the knee and a corsetted top. Her silver-white hair was braided, and she wore a sparkly shawl with a pattern of feathers on it.
Definitely a Stevie Knicks inspired clubbing outfit.
The music pumping over the club was heavily electronic, thudding bass filled the room as people danced.
- Oliver Queen has posed:
Oliver Queen draws attention wherever he goes back in Starling, so the fact that so few know him is kind of refreshing. The man can vanish into a crowd, which he absolutely cannot do back home. Well, not without smoke bombs. But those tend to be frowned upon in club culture for some reason. Either way, the man finds himself in New York for company related business, and has managed to slip out after a meeting to try and relax. Cool down a bit. Enjoy himself. Isn't that what his team is always telling him to do?
Tall, and well-muscled in a button-up cornflower blue shirt and dark slacks, the man still cuts quite the image. He steps up to the bar and struggles a moment to catch the bartender's attention since he's not a hot 20-something girl. Finally, he manages, and he brings his beer to his lips with a soft sigh.
He is standing beside Nettie without even realising it.
- Nettie Crowe has posed:
Nettie is also not a 20-something girl, but she gives a bright smile. "Allo lad, what's on tap?" she asks the bar tender, the lights behind the bar catching against the aquamarine of her eyes. She gets a tulip glass of an a very hoppy IPA with citrusy tones, and decides this'll do. Who knows what they do to a gin in this place?
Her eyes do dart to the gentleman in the cornflower blue, and she cracks a little smile as she gives a soft breath. "I think they're trying too hard here, what do you think?" she questions, her black gloves wrapping gently around the tulip glass as she opens a tab, sliding a very plain looking card across the bar.
- Oliver Queen has posed:
"My little sister owns a club. She could teach these guys a thing or two. Now, me? Clueless. I mean, I love clubs but...wouldn't now the first damn thing about making a good one." He turns and flashes her an easy smile before his bright eyes dip curiously over her. He brings his beer to his lips, then, before offering his hand. Big, warm and surprisingly rough.
"I'm Ollie."
- Nettie Crowe has posed:
"Nettie." Nettie introduces herself simply, leaning back against the bar with her tulip glass in hand, and she reaches to shake his hand, black glove and all. "So, your little sister is the entrepreneurial one then?" she gives a smile. Her accent is clean, but Northern British. Slightly out of fashioned with the BBC British accent. "My little brother is the same in my family. Started his own company shipping items out of India. I don't suppose you are the..." she sips her IPA "... one who got to go on a walk about to try and find yourself, end up trying to stumble back and forgot some of the rules?" she jokes, "... 'cause that was me."
- Oliver Queen has posed:
"I think she just likes controlling where she parties. She knows she wants to hang out at the best club in the city, so...she runs it." He chuckles and shrugs a shoulder. Her words about a walkabout make him blink, though. He brings his beer to his lips for another pull before he chuckles.
"Well, something like that, actually. It was all over the news but...it was a few years back now. Got lost at sea. Thought dead. Blah blah."
- Nettie Crowe has posed:
"Oh? How unfortunate. I'm sure all the ladies in your social circle bemoaned your marooned state. Glad to see the sea couldn't keep you." she gives a smile of her matte red lips. "To think I'd miss this banter waiting on a friend makes me sad. So, Ollie, what do *you* do if your sister owns a club, and you're not in hers?" she inquires politely to him, drawing one leg up and crossing it.
"... and don't worry about my friend. If she's not here in five minutes, she may as well never existed."
- Oliver Queen has posed:
His gaze dips to watch that leg rise and cross before his bright eyes lift to meet hers again. "Well, am I a bad person if I hope she leaves you to me?," he asks with a cheeky grin and an arched eyebrow. He shrugs, then. "Eh. I sit on the board of my families company. It's mostly just for show, though. Name is on the building, legacy, all that crap. To tell you the truth, I spend most of my time drinking, brooding and having just -horrible- nightmares about my traumatic origins," he states, his tone clearly a playful one.
"And yes, they were devastated. I think a few commited ritual suicide in my honor. Totally tragic."
- Nettie Crowe has posed:
"How sad. They should have stuck to the shaved heads and gnashing of teeth. Wouldn't know if you're worth such a..." Nettie's lips purse a moment "Permanent solution." she gives a small smile to Ollie. "Be curious to find out, though." she gives a playful admission in a slight flirt. "Oh, I know all about family legacy. Some of it's a bunch of bullshite, and if you've got the wrong presence they expect you to pop out little heirs to the throne. I'm glad for your sister. Tell her to keep partying." she gives a grin as she sips. "Far, far more interesting then vetting nannies, I would imagine."
