|
|
Post by reitgerte2 on Apr 6, 2013 15:56:36 GMT -8
tagged: royal. time: may 1st, 1am. notes: rp swap. Lance was generally not the kind to go to strip clubs. That wasn't because of any moral issues, or even any money issues. No, it simply had to do with the fact that his job often ran until midnight, meaning any trip to a bar, club, or strip joint was going to be fairly short. He simply didn't have the time for most social events that ran through the night, which was a sad state of affairs considering that he was a very social person.
That night had not been one of those nights though. No, he'd gotten two days off, and that meant it was time to go out with friends and party. That had been the plan, although it hadn't worked out quite like that. Instead, the friend he'd arrived at 4play with had slunk off just after midnight with a someone he'd run into, leaving Lance behind at the bar. He was far from drunk, keeping his drinking largely under control, and despite the large amount of stripping going on in the club, he was feeling a bit on the bored side. Which really was a shame, but understandable. Lance was a social creature, and at the moment, he had yet to spot anyone to chat to.
That wasn't to say that the night was a total loss--Lance had enjoyed himself up until the sudden lull in conversations. He was an optimist at heart. He wasn't going to pack up and leave just because he wasn't talking to anyone just then. No, he'd stick around--at least for another hour or two. With no work in the morning, he wasn't exactly rushing home.
Sitting at the bar, sipping a fruity mango daiquiri, he found himself playing with his shirt again. It was a bad choice, a little bit too tight for him. Really, he was generally okay with clothing shopping, but this was an unfortunate misfire--an ultra tight teal shirt, hugging his figure in a way that wasn't exactly comfortable. Even for Lance, it was a little bit too showy. Hell, for all that it hid, he might as well have been shirtless. Not that it would have been that out of place--it was a stripclub after all. |
|
|
|
Post by royal on Apr 12, 2013 9:07:06 GMT -8
Tuesdays, he supposed, should be days he was a bit more cheerful – after all, that was tip day. As it was, the bad balanced out the good – Tuesdays also meant working incredibly late and with limited breaks at the best of times, and prolonged exposure to uncomfortable outfits. You'd think he'd have been used to it by now...well, he sort of was, but leather never stopped being uncomfortably hot after twenty minutes running around on a stage. 'Running' being a pretty vague generalization, he supposed, and not for the first time was at least somewhat grateful for having been railroaded into so many dance classes in his teen years. At least they came in handy now, making sure he had the balance and flexibility to even get aforementioned tips.
Being told he had forty minutes until he was due back to the stage for one last run while knowing he had nothing else to wear but what he'd been working in didn't improve the 'uncomfortable outfits' issues. Instead of complaining, though, he took the hour break for what it was, aware it was one of the few he'd have, before going to wash his face off and tie his hair back in the bathroom backstage. If he didn't make over double what he had, he would almost miss that crappy department store job – that was years gone, though, and honestly, 4play was about as good as he was going to get so long as he couldn't push for jobs that would delve too far into his thinly veiled history. He'd take an hour in leather pants over being deported back to Great Britain, thank you.
'Two and a half more hours at most. Could be worse. I've been held until three am before.' he told himself absently as he tied his damp hair at the nape of his neck, fighting the urge to preen in front of the mirror and fix it, well aware it wouldn't stay fixed making the gesture pointless. He left the washroom and headed for the door that led from the backstage to the main floor. No one sane would spend their break in front of a mirror (even if he and a few of his co-workers were vain, you actually didn't catch most of them primping themselves too often), sane people would...
'Get a drink which I bloody well need' he decided, the music becoming glaringly unmuffled as he slipped through the door into the club, not even having to make an effort to weave through people like one normally would have to to make his way to the bar on the other side of the floor. The place wasn't empty, per se, but those left were either at the foot of the stage, the bar, and a scarce few left in booths. Any others were in back rooms, leaving the main floor with a lot of breathing room – so his trip to the others wall took no time at all, and was leaning against the counter to flag down the bartender. He was handed his drink with a few pleasantries exchanged between the two, before the considerably more shirtless male turned to brace the small of his back against the bar.
His eyes gravitated to the nearest patron, blind to the low flashing lights and loud, thumping music that emanated from the long stage that lined most the opposite wall, which typically seemed to distract other people – never mind the half-naked men slithering across said stage. No his mind was more set on 'well looks like we're gonna lose at least one occupant soon', considering how bored the man a couple seats down looked. He hesitated, wondering how far his obligation to maintain good business for where he worked went, before realizing he'd played social for lesser reasons. It had just been on his less...work-stressed days, he supposed. He only hesitated due to having been here since six earlier that – or technically, last – night.
“You know for someone who's sitting in a place built around various forms of...entertainment you look like you're about to take a nap over there. Tuesdays not your taste?” he asked, tilting so that he leaned to face a bit to the side, towards the stranger. 'Blinding opener Dalvoux' he told himself dryly, but didn't miss a beat regardless.
TAG!: Lance NOTE!: Crap post that took me ages god I'm sorry Reit D;
|
|
|
|
Post by reitgerte2 on Apr 12, 2013 15:34:27 GMT -8
tagged: royal. time: may 1st, 1am. notes: rp swap. Lance was rather enjoying his drink, although he soon found himself lost in thought as to the pros and cons of mango over other various fruits. Mango, as far as he was concerned, was his favorite. It was the best mix of sugar and flavor, and it didn't kill his taste buds either. Plus, it hid most of the taste of alcohol. While he certainly could drink, he didn't actually like the taste of most alcohols. That was almost certainly why he had a preference for fruity drinks. Even if it was considered to be a girly thing to do, Lance was entirely confident in his masculinity. No, he didn't need to drink whisky and grow a beard to be sure of that, and he wasn't going to worry over what other people thought of his taste in drinks, even if he did get the occasional comment, even when he was out with friends.
He was so lost in thought that he actually didn't notice anyone approaching him--and when the man spoke, his eyes immediately flicked over, a tiny bit startled. Oh well, it wasn't as if he was expecting any danger, so the only real reaction was sitting up a little bit straighter. He looked bored, did he? He supposed he probably did. He was a social person, and watching men gyrate was neither his particular taste (he'd have preferred women), nor was it what he considered social. Hell, even if it had been a ladies night he'd have preferred to chat with some friends rather than watching. Talking was generally his preference, and watching did very little for him.
So he probably wasn't the best strip club client to begin with. Even so, he could be lured in. It just took more effort than the average client.
Taking a moment, Lance ran his eyes over the man, taking him all in. He was, of all things, in leather pants. Tight leather pants. Combined with the distinct lack of shirt, Lance was forced to assume he was an off-duty worker. Lance supposed it really didn't matter. It wasn't as if the guy was going to manage to sell him anything.
Or at least he didn't think he would.
"I suppose I probably am. I'm more of a sit down and chat guy, and my friend decided to desert me." He gave a little shrug of his shoulders, settling back before reaching out and grabbing his drink, giving it a little sip. "Can't say I'm huge on staring at a strip show." Which was the understatement of the year right there. |
|
|
|
Post by royal on Apr 21, 2013 17:04:08 GMT -8
So, he'd half expected to be ignored – either because normally the only people left at the bar at this hour were rather unfriendly or piss drunk. As the man hadn't looked the latter, he'd expected the former – but it couldn't hurt to try and blah blah be sociable on the job. What, running around half naked most the time wasn't friendly enough? He was pleasantly surprised by the civil resonance, however, and was happy to respond in turn after the man's statement about being deserted.
“Ah the old 'my friend brought me here' excuse. Well” he paused, eyed the man critically, before continuing with “most of the time it's an excuse. We get at least one new group every week with that. Funnily enough, normally it's the one who swears they were dragged here who end up half naked buying a private room by the end of the night.” He took a sip of his drink, seeming to contemplate this for a few moments, before finally stating “But as you're still fully clothed at the moment, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt.” Hey, sad but true. You really did hear the 'my friend brought me' a lot – which most times he commented on, as well. Though since this was the night that required him to keep customers here – well, more than normal – he'd word that...positively.
“So you're just here now for the 'fine wine' then? Meant entirely seriously, the drinks aren't too bad here.” 'Despite that, odd feature to fixate on' So, he didn't have a whole lot of room to talk here, considering that if he didn't work here, he'd only come to this place for the bar himself. Hell he was a prime example of the odd man out amongst all his co-workers...he was pretty sure no one got how someone could work in the industry of 'sex' and have no sex drive. 'Shamelessness and paycheck envy of one of your neighbors...' Hilariously yes, that was the reason. He knew ninety percent of the rest of the population had...well, ninety percent more interest than he did, and assuming said ninety percent of people who came to the club were here for the typical reason wasn't out of place – he'd have to be given a little room on his skepticism for that reason.
TAG!: Lance NOTE!: I HAVE THE ATTENTION SPAN OF A GNAT UGH
|
|
|
|
Post by reitgerte2 on Apr 27, 2013 20:17:11 GMT -8
tagged: royal. time: may 1st, 1am. notes: rp swap. Lance actually let out a little 'pft'. It wasn't an excuse, but now that he'd been called on it, he could certainly understand that in most cases, people would say it was one. After all, people still freaked out about other people assuming they were gay. Lance had never minded it--he was confident enough in his sexuality that someone implying he liked men wasn't going to bother him in the slightest.
"I suppose you probably get that excuse a lot, eh?" He probably got it all the time. "Nah, I'm just not a strip joint kind of guy. Even if it wasn't ladies night." That was, a night for the ladies, as opposed to a night with the ladies. Not that it would be hard to confuse the two, considering he'd just seen a whole lot of men stripping down. He took another sip before looking over at the guy, not looking all that bothered by the fact that he was missing a shirt. Or he supposed it technically wasn't missing--he probably knew exactly where it was.
As for the alcohol... well, he wouldn't have come here just for that. Oh no. He let out a little laugh, holding up the glass.
"Well, it's a good drink, but I wouldn't come here just for that. I wasn't kidding when I said a friend brought me here. He's just run off on his own and left me behind, and I didn't want to call it quits and abandon my cover charge." Plus, there were still a few lady customers milling about, and it was entirely possible he'd manage to snag one of them before the night was out.
"Name's Lance, by the way." He said, setting down his drink and offering his hand. Even if it wasn't the most formal of locations, you still had to have manners. It wouldn't do to just carry on a whole conversation without introducing himself after all. |
|
