Sometimes Victor thought he should invest in a pair of earplugs instead of facing the hearing loss he’d most certainly suffer in his late thirties, but he enjoyed it too much. The way it seemed to travel up his body, through the soles of his feet, how he could almost feel it in his bones. Also, the more he drank, the louder he liked his music, so when he’d had his fill, it was really just a bonus.
He watched Ilinca dance and if he hadn’t known better, he could’ve swore she was on some sort of unseen moving platform beneath her, the way she danced was truly enchanting, even to him. The bits of light strewn across the stage and the faces of the first couple of rows were actually kind of beautiful and he took a healthy couple swigs from his glass. The faster, the better, he always reasoned. It was why he was so easy to please when it came to alcohol, though one would expect him to be picky by nature, because of his work.
Victor’s eyes wandered to the crowd and his lips were quirked into a natural, comfortable little smile. Even though it was cold outside, his drink and the feeling of belonging somewhere kept him warm. It was oddly cathartic to be here. If people thought he belonged in a freakshow, maybe they were right. He liked it. Even though he was certain he was probably the most freakish of them all, he actually liked being there, which was more than he could say for any other place he’d tried to settle down in.
When he saw two men rise from their chairs, his smile faded slightly and he stood up straight, wondering if this would be a security problem. It was strange, actually, he’d seen men stand when Ilinca beckoned them and it’d always made him nervous… after all, she was so… small. It’d make him nervous to be on stage and see two men make towards his direction, but it never seemed to bother her. She must’ve really trusted in what she was doing and knew when to get worried versus a harmless bit of teasing.
After her act was over, there was another wave of drink orders that came in, he could understand wanting to be more intoxicated to enjoy something all the more. But his eyes focused on Ilinca when she came to sit at the bar and he made her his first priority.
“Water? Coming up!” He filled a glass with water and put it on a napkin in front of her. “I loved your Joan Crawford. You really… got them going tonight,” he said loudly enough to be heard over the buzz of the crowd.
He started with the queue that had formed next to Ilinca.
A few of them had gotten more adventurous and were ordering Midori Martinis, a few items off the list of specials and his hands moved without his eyes fixed on the task before him. He knew where everything was by touch. As he raked some tips off the counter and served up drink after drink with napkins neatly under them, he called out, “Shoot, sorry. Did you want ice? to Ilinca.