They said it don't get cold here Who: Tuck & Briar (& OPEN to anyone else in the club that night) What: A chance encounter When: Tuesday night, December 19th Where: Antoine's Blues Palace, main room (i.e. not the brothel) Rating: S for Snarky (otherwise low) Status: Complete
Tucker had not actually wanted to see The Claude Alleman Experience at Antoine's tonight. He'd been careful not to make a regular habit of visiting Antoine's, mostly because its reputation was difficult to miss, but partially to avoid temptation. Tucker might not have been the most self-aware of men, but he did know himself well enough to understand that it was probably better to avoid the drug-den of a jazz club that doubled as a brothel if he had any hope of keeping the sham of his engagement alive. Not that there was much scandal to guard against in Glynn, but still. He was making an effort, wasn't he? Shouldn't that count for something?
Or at least, he'd been planning on making an effort, but then Blair's invitation arrived and that plan had been shot all to pieces. Pleased as he genuinely was to host his cousin, he'd known that it the news would put February in a mood. He simply hadn't been prepared for how much of one. Their argument had been brief, but devastating (as only January could be when it wasn't possible for her to get her way), and Tuck hadn't even bothered to wait around for dinner to flee the house, taking it at Antoine's instead.
He sucked down a deep, pull vin coca, his face twisting into a disgusted sneer as the mediocre band began playing a broody, sappy song he hated on principle. His eyes wandered lazily around the low lit establishment, his head half-blurry with the wine until they lighted on a shadowy face that he deemed pleasant enough to hold his attention.
A face that, after a few seconds of staring, he realized he recognized. Squinting, he leaned forward over the table to look closer, and then, all at once, burst out laughing. So Glynn was home to not one but two scandal-ridden Clovennians. Plague, how many disgraces were in this town anyway? "McKenna." He called, his voice uncharacteristically jovial. "McKenna. Come here." He extended an arm lazily to the unused chair in front him. "Come sit and tell me what the plaguing fits you're doing in Glynn."