Katou (katoustheshit) wrote in pathways_log, @ 2021-03-15 21:53:00 |
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Entry tags: | angel sanctuary: yue katou, deadly premonition: francis york morgan |
Who: Katou and York
What: Katou's band plays and he runs into York in the crowd after their set
When: This last weekend
Where: Some divey venue
Ratings/Warnings: Teenish, underage drinking and a brief mention of unspecified drug use
Status: Complete
Backstage, Katou wiped his face with the bottom of his sleeveless, ripped band shirt. As far as he was concerned, their set had been fine. Youji’s bass had been out of tune, and he’d been off time - Katou knew he shouldn’t have let Youji take that pill before they got on stage - but he thought he’d covered for him alright.
Anyway, they were just the openers. It wasn’t like anyone was gonna give them more than a passing look. It just felt good to be up on stage. “You can do my load out for being such a fuck-up,” Katou muttered at Youji, giving him a shove with his foot, and then turned toward the bar. Best part of this particular venue was that they either didn’t know or didn’t care that the Drugnaughts were still in high school; they served them alcohol, no questions asked.
He nodded to the old dude who was standing near the bar, and then ordered his beer, briefly wondering if he should get a couple beers for the rest of the band but then deciding against it. They could get their own damn beers after load out.
York had been heavy into punk when he’d been in high school and had attended numerous concerts in seedy places, much to his aunt’s chagrin. Back then, she’d hoped that it was all just a phase and that eventually her nephew would grow out of it. She’d been partially right. York no longer sported outlandish hair or clothes, but the music still had an irresistible pull on him and probably always would. His colleagues were often surprised whenever they walked into his office, or got into his car, only to have their ears assaulted by the rackish sounds of an aggressive guitar accompanied by screaming vocals.
He didn’t have many opportunities to take in a show these days with the bureau sending him to far flung places all over the country to work various cases. But, as he’d told Michael last month, finding a balance between work and personal life was crucial. So when he’d heard that a couple of bands were playing at some club, he couldn’t pass up the opportunity.
The first act was good, though rough around the edges, even for a punk band. York’s eye (or in this case ear) for detail caught that the band wasn’t quite in sync with itself. But, they had raw talent and some real potential. He’d enjoyed their set. He didn’t mind saying so when the lead guitarist and vocalist mosied his way up to the bar and nodded in his direction.
“Good set,” he said, his voice just loud enough to carry through the din of the club.
Katou grimaced, grabbing his bar from the bartender and turning toward the guy. “I guess we were alright,” he said, and then took a long pull from the bottle. “We’d be better if our fucking bassist could get his shit together.”
Not that Katou was much better than Youji in the general scheme of things, but he kept being a fuck-up off the stage.
“Don’t think I’ve seen you around before. You go to a lot of shows?”
York smiled at the young man’s response. “People are their own worst critics,” he said. “You may not have been perfectly matched up, but you put on a good enough show.”
He eyed the drink in the young man’s hand. At a glance he didn’t look quite old enough to be drinking, and dives like this one weren’t exactly known for carding all their patrons, much less their performers.
However, York wasn’t on duty. And besides, he knew better than to try to be a narc in a room full of punks. So for now he set aside the dubious nature of the man’s eligibility to drink legally with a mental note to keep an eye on him for his own sake.
“I’m new in town,” he explained with a casual shrug. “I haven’t been to a show in a while, so when I heard one was going on tonight, I thought I’d check it out.”
Katou wasn’t entirely sure he trusted the way the man was looking at his beer, but he brushed it off. Katou wasn’t gonna worry about it if it weren’t gonna be an immediate problem.
“Yeah? Where you from?” Katou asked after a moment. He’d never left Vegas, but he’d thought about it a lot. New York seemed nice. Or California. Or just about anywhere but Vegas.
“New York, technically,” York answered. “But I do a lot of traveling. I haven’t been ‘home’ in…” he paused thinking. How long had it been since he’d been back to New York? “Nine months, I think,” he said and then shrugged. “Something like that.”
“Huh,” Katou muttered. “Must be nice to just travel around all the time. What do you do, anyway?” Obviously if someone was gone for that long, they were either filthy rich - and slumming it in divey venues in Vegas for some reason - or they had to travel for work. It didn’t take a genius to figure that one out.
“I work for the government,” York said and left it at that. He took a drink from his glass and leaned against the bar, turning his attention out towards the other patrons. It looked as though the second act was getting ready to start and he had to raise his voice to be heard. “I used to come to shows like this a lot when I was --” he almost said about your age but stopped himself. “--in high school,” he said instead. A smile spread across his face. “It’s nice to be able to catch a show.”
“Yeah, no doubt,” Katou said in response to it being nice to catch a show, perking up when it looked like the next band was getting ready. He downed the rest of his beer and gestured for another one. “You gonna hang back here, or you gonna come up where all the action is?”
York contemplated this for a moment, swirling his drink around in its glass. “That’s tempting,” he said as he watched the other patrons gather around the stage. He did notice that he was far from the oldest person at the venue. He did come for the show, it seemed like a waste to spend the whole night at the bar. “Why not?” he said with a grin at the young man next to him.
Katou grinned toothily when the old dude decided he’d head up to the front, and he put his hand on the guy’s back to propel him to the front. Maybe if he was lucky, he’d even manage to get him in the circle pit.