InsaneJournal

Evie wasn’t typically the first choice for undercover, but she’d been trailing this corrupt asshole for weeks now and wanted to see it through. Missions like this kept her busy. The Underground practically ran itself with Diego, Jacob, and Serefin all there regularly and Evie maintaining the books and backend of things. The Defense Department had a lot of very capable leaders and members to its ranks, and when she wasn’t there--

Well, sitting alone in her thoughts had been not good as of late. For more than half a year now. That pain had gotten better - diminished with time - but sometimes it was keenly felt in the train that she called home with the people she considered family, as sickeningly in love as they all were.

If she’d been herself, this sort of bar was not her scene. Loud music, dim lights, lots of drinks and drugs passed along from person to person. She had her sights set on him - Brent Evergaol. He was currently surrounded by his lackeys, in a private booth. He’d only just arrived and her intel let her know he’d be there for at least an hour letting them kiss his ass.

So she had time. Her outfit was picked out by Lila - so she certainly looked the part in leather and fishnets and boots that could kill someone. Her collection of knives were well-hidden but accessible. Her drink would just have to be nursed as she people-watched from her barstool, hopefully just unapproachable enough that no men would try to talk to her.

While this scene might not have been for most people, Grace felt comfortably at home in the dark corners and bright lights. She moved wildly and enticingly to the loud music, finding a rhythm to the ebb and flow of the people crowding the floor. She sang along loudly along with a chorus of others, and flitted through dance partners before getting overheated and sliding against the bar. Grace wasn't necessarily a regular, but she had been here enough times not to be a stranger.

But the real stranger was the girl—woman—next to her. Grace wasn't overtly observant, but someone dressed like that and sticking to the sidelines was enough to pique her curiosity. She eyed her drink, her boots, and then tried to follow her eyeline across the club. Grace quickly ordered a whiskey sour, and settled into the barstool next to her. Shoot your shot and all that.

"What are we watching?" Grace asked. She tossed her hair over her shoulder, leaning in closer to the girl's ear. It was a necessity when the bass was deafening. "Or who are we watching? Your face isn't really saying lovesick swooning, or I'd offer to wingman you. So ex? Skeezy slimeball? I'm friends with one of the bouncers if you need to get them the boot, no questions asked."

Apparently being unapproachable enough for men to avoid her didn’t stand for women, at the same time. Evie wasn’t surprised by that. She had already been watching with her eagle vision to mark people by their auras, and this newcomer had a-- nice, one. Soothing. A little too nice for a place like this, but Evie wasn’t in a position to judge.

“Everyone.” There was no point in lying, but she also had no desire to be specific. She’d been keeping an eye on whoever was potentially in league with Evergaol, and that meant scanning every single person in range. Evie was very, very good at surveillance. “The gentleman in the right corner booth is cheating on his partner. He comes here every Saturday to meet with them, it’s been going on for a while. He makes promises he can’t keep.”

She shifted slightly to someone else. “The person in all black is getting over a recent breakup and planning on making some terrible decisions tonight.” Near them was a woman, standing by herself, watching the dance floor. “Her and her husband come here regularly to roleplay keeping their marriage fresh, but she’s unsure of how it’s going right now. Jealous and worried he’s more into the people he’s dancing with.”

Grace was not expecting the run down. She was half-joking when she asked, mostly to see if she could flirt with this attractive but serious stranger. She didn't expect her to be doing actual surveillance. If Grace were any other person, in any other place, she might have simply peaced out for someone who wasn't keeping tabs on the entire club because that's unnerving. But Grace wasn't just any other person, and honestly, this was much different and far more interesting than her night was previously intending to go.

She swiped her drink off the counter, tucking the tiny straws into the corner of her mouth. "You got all that from just watching people?" Grace asked, waggling a very non-discreet finger to the people moving around in front of them. "Is everyone here, like, fucking awful? No, wait. Don't tell me." Grace put her hand on her new bar buddy's shoulder to stop her from speaking. Grace had an idea.

"I don't know what little trick you can do, but if I just pointed at someone could you tell me anything about them or only the unsavory bits?" Grace was guessing, assuming, whatever this woman could do. She didn't even know her name, but Grace was willing to stake her claim that whatever it was, it would be interesting.

Evie had opened her mouth to disagree, because not everyone was awful. Just half of them. Or a little more than half. And there were varying levels of awful to every person. “I’m not psychic, if that’s what you’re wondering.” Though yes, her skills at figuring out little tidbits or overhearing conversations was a bit supernatural. Just a little. But mostly it was training.

“People just give.. Tells. Or their conversations are too loud, because the club is loud. The husband of the roleplaying wife tried hitting on me when I first got here. People give a lot away if you’re just listening.” It was boring, probably, to just be someone who was a wallflower that gathered information, but Evie liked it that way.

She also liked a challenge. “Who do you want to know about?” If it helped sus this woman’s evening conquest out to make sure she didn’t pick anyone terrible, Evie was more than willing to help on that end.

"I didn't peg you for a psychic. I know enough of them to know they have a vibe. You give off a different sort of one," Grace said, swirling around the ice in her glass. She tried to see if she could pick up tells from people, but it wasn't as easy as the woman made it out to be. Grace saw someone having a good time, someone locked in conversation, someone dancing so close to another person it could be considered explicit. Nothing that gave away secrets or gossip. Grace wondered what could be picked up from watching her.

But the opening the woman left for Grace was too good to pass up. "Who do I want to know about? It can be anyone?" She made a show of looking around the room: scrunching her face up, tilting her head to the side, contemplating all the options, before coming to settle plainly on her new observant stranger friend—even if friend was a stretch.

"What about you? Tell me about you." Was that smooth? Maybe. She was rusty, and Grace hadn't exactly gone to the club with this intention. It was a nice bonus. "I'm Grace, by the way. I'll give you that one for free."

Oh. That was smooth. For Evie, anyway, as her cheeks flushed just a little. She wasn’t usually one for flattery, especially if it was coming from the vast majority of men, but somehow this made her blush just a little and attempt to cover up the surprise in her expression.

Evie wasn’t exactly sure how to answer that, though. She both didn’t want to out herself, and had a job to do, but also had no wish to put this person - Grace - in any form of danger. If something were to go wrong and someone spotted them talking, and found out who Evie was? That could very well happen.

So lying was for the best, in this case. Nothing to get traced back to her. “I’m Lynn. Not much to tell. I’m a boring accountant, and I spend my free time watching people in clubs.” Not entirely a lie, with an adjustment to her full name that she never used, and allusions to her accounting work for the Underground. But also not the truth, either. “You’d have a far more exciting time talking up someone else, I promise.”

"Lynn the Accountant," Grace said, trying the name out in her mouth. There was something off, but who was Grace to judge someone's name? Her mother had named her with glorious intentions, which Grace had promptly dashed in highschool. She was so far from actual grace that it seemed ironic now. Not that Lynn needed to know that. That was more like second or third meeting material, if that was something that she could make happen. She wasn't confident enough yet that this might be the only conversation she would get with her—Grace figured she make the most of it.

"I think I'm having a rather exciting time right now. Not every day you run into bookkeepers who spend their evening at clubs in leather and fishnets. And drink—" Grace peered down at the glass in Lynn's hands. "Whatever you're drinking. Looks a little sad now." She took a fortifying sip of her whiskey sour until it make that bubbling empty noise, and she slid it on the counter.

"Do you dance? Would that interfere with your people watching? Because there is no way you're going through all this trouble just to stand here all night and wave off people. I bet you could hear some great conversations somewhere over there," Grace said, gesturing to an open spot on the dance floor. Not close to a speaker, and a little near a private booth. Not that Grace knew who Brent Evergaol was or that he was sitting in that particular private booth.

When the drink had started, it was an old fashion. Now it was-- yes, a little sad looking. The ice had melted and Evie had sipped it so slowly that the orange peel had sunk sadly to the bottom of the glass. She shrugged and took a sip before setting it down. Okay, yes, watered down.

Now was the perfect time to brush Grace off, to make some excuse and vanish then watch for Evergaol to exit the bar so she could tail him. This was just a complication that was getting in the way.

But it was difficult not to miss companionship. Someone to chat with at the bar, when missions were happening - Jacob or Serefin weren’t the same - Evie was admittedly more than a little lonely. “I think you’d be surprised just how many people with the most mundane jobs are here in fishnets.” But they were probably all dancing and letting lose, there was that. Eventually she just had to admit, with a wary glance towards the open spot on the dance floor, “I don’t dance well.”

There was a soft, satisfactory smile that grew across Grace's face. Not that she wanted to win anything in this conversation, but that she had managed to needle into Lynn enough to give in was exhilarating.

"I didn't ask if you danced well, only if you do. Any level I can work with. It's mostly about swaying, and maybe a little arms up in the air—" which Grace did, briefly, with some jazz hands for good measure. It was not even remotely cute or attractive or good by any means. But Grace figured Lynn might like to see someone on an even playing field with her. "Dancing, or doing anything really, is all about faking it until you make it. Being too serious about things that aren't serious is going to leave you with a watered down drink and no fun fishnets."

Grace pushed herself away from the bar, to stand in front of Lynn and she offered out a hand. Because if nothing else came from this evening, and Lynn went back to her accountant job sans edgy tights, Grace wanted some kind of connection. Physical tended to leave a longer lasting mark.

"If you hate it, I won't bug you for the rest of the night. But I have a pretty good track record, so enter the dance floor with me at your own risk."

Evie’s little sigh was something that felt like giving in. She couldn’t help it, somehow she was charmed and had always required an extrovert to get her to do things out of her wheelhouse.

So she took the hand offered to her, and followed. It was against her better judgement and there was a near certainty that she’d have to disappear halfway through, not willing to lose her mark for just a dance with a stranger. But she had time, for now. “My brother would like you a great deal, he’s a terrible dancer that is more than willing to make a fool of himself.” She left out that both of them had been classically trained for their era, because it hadn’t proved itself useful in her entire time in Vallo, this dancing was so far from anything in the 19th century.

When they found their way to the empty little spot, Evie took just a flash of a second to memorize the nearest exits and to take in everyone around them. Then she allowed herself just a little slouch and moment to relax. “I am not going to do the jazz hands,” Evie warned, but still started to sway a little to the hyperactive music. “Is this what you do for fun regularly? Find a wallflower and convince them to dance?”

Grace pouted a little, very theatrical and absolutely not serious, about Lynn not doing the jazz hands. She also noticed the fact that Lynn brought up her brother—new information that Grace tucked away for later alongside Lynn being an observant accountant—and felt that whatever tightly packed walls Lynn had put up initially, Grace was slowly, surely scaling them. She liked the challenge.

"I'm in a band," Grace answered, because that was what she did for actual fun, regularly. "Guitar, not singing." She ducked low to Lynn's ear to say it without having to shout. She imagined their conversation was going to go something like this: sway, move, lean in to talk, lean away again. And if Grace was lucky, and if Lynn was willing, there might be a point when leaning away stopped happening. For now, Grace was fine with the amicable space, and rolling her hips to the low buzzing bass.

"And I work at a herbalist boutique downtown to pay the bills. It's retail," Grace added, as to not be confused with something more quirky and imaginative; she still had her fair share of witchy Karens to deal with on a regular basis. "I come here to unwind. The wallflowers and dancing are an added bonus to the fun."

Evie filed that information away on her own end, to make a point to go scope the place, but then faltered for just a second with the realization that it bordered creepy when she started doing that to people she wasn’t actually tailing. Even she had her limits.

Besides, it was a better choice to cut this off at the head, especially as Grace now knew her as Lynn. This was going to be their one and only meeting.

“Impressive. I haven’t a musical bone in my body.” Because admitting she had just enough classical piano training to open trapped doors was a little too honest. Still, a little part of that wall slipped against her better judgement as they moved to the music. “I do appreciate it, though. The sounds. The vibrations. The way you can feel the rhythm and the tempo if you close your eyes.”

"I'm going to call bullshit on that one," Grace said, wiggling an accusatory finger at Lynn. "Someone who appreciates the sway and rhythm and the tempo of music means you have some taste. You're not like those people who clap off beat." Grace's expression turned soft, and then appreciative, watching Lynn move. Grace had unexpectedly, but not unwelcomely, stepped closer. Her voice pitched low, covered up mostly by the music. "I see you."

This was the moment, do-or-die, fight-or-flight—and maybe that should have said something about Grace's interpretation of flirting that likened it to an oncoming battle—but she reached for Lynn, her hand on her hip. Nothing gripping, nothing tight, just a gentle weight to feel her rock to the beat, and for Grace to mirror her. Despite the heady atmosphere and the unsavory people who might have been in Grace's sights, she was thankful that they ended up on Lynn.

Grace danced even closer, so that more than her hand was just shy of coming into more points of contact. Her eyes slid closed, getting lost in the other sensations of sound and touch. "Are you sure you're an accountant?" Grace asked, shouted over the music, really.

Oh no. It was that fight-or-flight moment and Evie’s brain immediately picked flight. Usually it was fight, usually she had that same gut-instinct that Jacob had, the one that had been trained in them from birth. The sort that usually had her pulling a dagger from wherever one was hiding and slicing someone before vanishing.

She wasn’t about to go that far, to stab or harm Grace, but Evie was certainly hitting paranoia levels of needing to leave right now.

To the point that she was almost relieved when Brent Evergaol got up from his spot and started leaving. She clocked it in her peripheral and her hand came up to cover Grace’s, gently. “I’m sorry, I have to go.” She didn’t answer the question, because it really needed no answer, ultimately. Evie had no intention of seeking her out ever again. “Stay safe. And away from--” With a little gesture, she waved towards a non-specific group of people not far from them, before backing up and blending straight into the crowd in an almost supernatural way.

Grace had been on a lot of bad first dates, some weird blind dates, and was not unfamiliar with being ghosted (literally, to the point of having to contact her favorite Ankou member, and metaphorically, via text.) But this thing with Lynn was something else. She thought they were having a good time? A little serious, and a little reserved, Grace didn't mind. It made her interested, curious, and there was a point where she believed she'd be able to run her fingers through Lynn's hair, just once.

Instead, Lynn was saying she had to go. Grace opened her eyes, only to see nothing. No Lynn, no person, no anyone. Grace was alone, on the dance floor, confused and realizing she never got far enough to get a number, or even a last name. Did she dream it all up? A hot accountant in fishnets who liked music? She turned around on the dance floor a few times, lost and a little strangely hurt.

What the actual hell just happened?