Who: Jordan/Kurt and some dude and other dudes and dudettes. What: Holy rain of bullets, hospital, etcetera. Where: Le Chat Noir. When: After closing time, around 3 AM, Saturday night, Sunday morning. Rating: High. Blood, torture. Song:01, 02, 03, 04.
This whole Erykah business that suddenly had invited itself into his club made him nervous. The lady was lovely (and as warned, admittedly eccentric but still lovely), but every unknown face that came into the club was an unwelcome one. In the end, he'd retreated to his own table, in a faraway dark corner and had used his fedora as a welcome blind to hide his face. By the time she launched into her first song, he knew he'd made a mistake. Kurt could have said no, stayed within the stiff and immovable familiar confines of his little made up life. But Jordan, always hungry for more success and recognition, always too eager to move up in life, had said yes. But with every face that swam in too close to his peripheral vision, he came to regret his decision more and more. To ease the strain, he'd delved straight into the watered down drinks his bartender managed to slip him from time to time. Not enough to get drunk, but just enough to get buzzed. And not buzzed enough to forget his promise to Dani. Phone opened, on the table, and a direct call to his lovely ghost from the past, so she could hear everything that Erykah sang.
By the time closing time was looming over their heads and the last stragglers resisted any attempts to scoot them back out on the streets, Jordan was back to his relaxed old self and had grabbed a towel to help out. At least until his bartender yawned, which was enough of a reason to wave the man off for the night with a friendly smile. And then, finding himself alone at last, he went to the stereo, squinted at the available albums and finally inserted a CD. He was far too oldskool, his bartender swore. He always shrugged it off - and only because Tom Waits was best on a cracked vinyl record and saying that would make him ... ancient? He grabbed a glass, dripping still and started to dry it off just as he started to hear someone rattling his door.
An inch of nervousness that finally crept back into his stomach, nervous twitching of his hands, and yet, a smile as he looked up at the glass door. "Sorry, we're closed."