Gathering Post - Singles' Night (These Are The Times)

[prodigalflame]

The Tavern, as it was called, brought to mind images of faded Tudor quaintness: of whitewashed exterior, black beams, windows barred with cast iron, mulled mead and a fireplace in every room.

In truth, the pub was anything but. Located in one of the gentrifying suburbs, it was a modern bulwark of concrete, iron and glass. The first two stories were the pub proper, and the next ten were apartments. The owners had called it 'The Tavern' in a display of hipster pride, as if it was the only pub that mattered. Snaking through the two levels were a series of pipes, as small-scale brewing took place on site.

It was usually a lively sort of pub, populated mostly by the fussy, the well-off, the well-educated and those that aspired to be, although situated near a tube station meant it also got a lot of randoms peering in to grab a pint. The alcohol menu was diverse, the food menu was dominated by various pulled meats and a cheese board (if anyone cared) and there were probably far too many male graduate students with neckbeards who nodded enthusiastically at each other as they discussed Kant.

Still, on Saturday night it was even more bustling than usual. People stood on the stairs, beers in hand, and chatted. Every seat was taken. The wait staff had their hands full (literally), and moved with ease and grace through the throng to deliver food to tables, and collect numbers and plates.

Tonight there would be music. Tonight there would be bands. Tonight was Singles' Night, a guarantee of no sappy love songs, no heart break, no angst. Two local bands were playing: first there would be a set from The Flamethrowers, with a mix of classic rock and pop standards, and then after a break, there would be an electro-synth duo to allow for dancing well past midnight.

So at about 9pm, patrons were treated to the sight of the first band tuning up. There wasn't really a performance space, so much as a corner on the ground floor of the pub that was currently unoccupied by tables. It was a four-piece band: some shaggy-haired cross between hobo and hipster on rhythm guitar and vocals, a slightly older british caribbean guy in glasses with goatee on double bass, a short-haired woman in her mid-20s on percussion and vocals and a tendency to beat the ever-living fuck out of the drum set, and another woman, more long-haired and willowy, on keyboards and vocals. Mr Hobo-Hipster of the shaggy hair and blond tips sang lead most of the time, but he gave it up for each of the women through their eleven song set, and there were duets. The keyboard was set to produce a more honky-tonk piano sound, and combined with the double bass, most of the covers had a dirty feel to them, all loose chords and guitar slaps. Clearly they'd played together for long enough to have a good feel for each other, which just added to the looseness, the occasional digression or ad hoc solo.

And Mr Hobo-Hipster didn't so much as introduce the band members as say "Hey. We're the Flamethrowers" and then let his guitar speak for itself as they launched into a funked-up version of Money. His voice was a little rough, almost a growl, and his stage presence was contained but not muted. Even without posturing, John made it very clear that he was the driving force behind the band: he didn't preen or strut, he didn't need to, and only the hint of a smirk could be seen around his eyes. There was no grinning, not now: now he was controlled and contained and came off a little bit contemptuous of having to perform. He sang, sure, and he played, and played pretty well, but his focus were the frets of his guitar, the lyrics of the songs. That night, he was sleek and dangerous and full of pride. That night, he had no reasons to smile or grin or show how happy he was: he'd lost those along the way. He was pared back to his disdainful core. Overall, the band was good but not great, and with John being Intense, the performance probably came off somewhere between 'bluesy rock band' and 'satanic death cult'.

Grooving through the set-list for roughly 45 minutes, the Flamethrowers played a series of stripped-back, funked-up covers. Rock the Casbah. a slowed-down take on Time after Time. Versions of Dangerous and Sweet Dreams (are made of this) that were dominated by the keyboards and a sparse double bass. Everybody Wants to Rule the World. John's wry grin came out for a guitar driven, lazy run on Carole King's "It's Too Late", before he paused to finally introduce the band, have some water, and explain that the point was to avoid the melancholic and romantic: to not make anyone feel bad for being single.

Four more songs, and they then closed with Mama Told Me Not To Come, having meandered their way past some INXS, Living End and Lynyrd Skynyrd.

In the end, John thanked the band (again), thanked everyone for showing up, and hoped they passed the audition. As a nicety, he promised there would now be some 'music you can dance to' after a little break, and then disappeared to pack up his guitar and amp and find himself a drink and a quiet corner.

The night went on without him, and that was just fine.

[OOC: Saturday night at an upmarket pub and destination of note. Feel free to show up before, during or after the band. Complain about the noise, the locally brewed artisan beer, the hipster food, the even more hipster band, or just dance the night away.]

Comments

[pippa_flynn]

"I left them inside. Sweet people. I haven't paid for a drink all night," she laughed.

[prince_of_nymphs]

"You do have a certain effect on people," Fin replied, looking thoughtful for a beat, then moving on.

"Singles night though, are you looking for a special someone, Pip? Ready to settle down at long last?"

[pippa_flynn]

She laughed again.

"Hardly. I just wanted to have a bit of fun. Maybe find someone for the night."

[prince_of_nymphs]

"Fair enough," Fin replied, taking another long drag, then sighing.

"I think I was looking for that too," he admitted.

[pippa_flynn]

"I'll help you if you help me," she suggested, though that she might need help was laughable.

[prince_of_nymphs]

"Yes, because we're both so terribly hopeless at finding people to warm our beds," Fin snorted.

[pippa_flynn]

"well, alright," she conceded with a dramatic sigh. "I'll just have to find one on my own. When I finish this I'll make the rounds and see if anyone catches my eye."

She was about to ask Fin if he would do the same and remembered at the last second he was blind and it would be incredibly tacky to suggest such a thing. So she took a drag instead.

"I've lost count of how many drinks I've had. There's this bloke in there, Maxxie, and he seems to think if he gets me drunk I'll say yes to him. But it seems I can drink a lot more than I used to. I feel warm and happy, but not out of my head. Is it the same for you?"

[prince_of_nymphs]

Fin shrugged, moving closer so he could lean lightly against her, tilting his head slightly to rest on her shoulder. Side by side they looked remarkably alike. Two sides of the same coin really. Fin's magic reached for hers, not unlike he'd often reached for her hand when they'd been very young, winding and coiling comfortably. It made it easier for his magic to focus, offering him a clearer view of the street.

"I don't know, perhaps. Just a bit, I think," he nodded, sighing a bit then standing up straight again.

[pippa_flynn]

Her own magic curled around him in return, stronger than his. She held him protectively with it and backed that up with her arm around him.

"Are you alright, Fin?" she asked softly. All fun aside, when he seemed to need her to be sober and sensible she invested all her energy in him.

[prince_of_nymphs]

"Fine," Fin assured her, though he wasn't sure he meant it. "I think I'm just feeling a bit directionless lately, that's all."

He shrugged one lanky shoulder, then leaned in and kissed her cheek. "You don't need to worry about me though, Pip. I always get on eventually."

[pippa_flynn]

She was quiet for a beat too long.

"I do worry about you, though," she said. "Don't think I don't see what you're doing. The drugs. The sex. You're wild, Fin, and it makes me worry a bit."

[prince_of_nymphs]

"Well you see more than I do," Fin said, laughing and shrugging one shoulder.

"It's fine, I'm fine, Pip."

[pippa_flynn]

She didn't believe him for even a moment, but chose to let it go for now. After all, he wasn't hurting anyone. And if it made him feel better, even temporarily, she could only love him for it.

"If you say so," she said. She took another drag, gave him a squeeze, then let go. "Just promise me you'll come to me if you need anything. I love you, Fin."

[prince_of_nymphs]

"Sap," he tutted playfully. "I love you too, Pip. Come on, come inside and I'll buy you a drink, maybe some of those tiny hamburgers too, eh?"

[pippa_flynn]

"Those are so good," she gushed, taking one last drag then dropping her fag on the ground to crush it under her sole. "Let's go in and have a bit of fun. We can even dance after we eat if you want," she grinned, the shape of it warming her voice.

[prince_of_nymphs]

"Sounds like a plan," Fin grinned, finishing his own cigarette and then taking her arm rather than pull out his cane again.

[pippa_flynn]

Pippa was beaming as she lead him back into the Tavern. She didn't have a table but she spotted one she liked and made her way over. The couple sitting there looked up and saw her smile and vacated the table just for her. She hadn't even been trying to use her magic, but that didn't stop the magic from working for her.

"Here, let's sit," she said, bringing Fin to the edge of the seat. Then she waved to get the server's attention.

[prince_of_nymphs]

Fin didn't see the couple leave, his magic a bit too focused on Pippa's at the moment, then he was surprised she managed to find a table so fast as he sat down.

"We should get chips too. Oh, maybe sausage? I'm famished," he admitted. Which wasn't unusual for Fin, though he had been eating less and less lately. It was only now he found that appetite of his returning in force.

[pippa_flynn]

"Let's get both. All of it. There's a sampler platter with a bit of everything. I could eat, too."

It was probably a good idea to get some food in her belly, considering how much she'd been drinking.

[prince_of_nymphs]

"Genius idea, Pip," Fin smiled.

[pippa_flynn]

"Isn't it? I always have the best ideas," she laughed. She sounded quite proud and genuine in her declaration. Pippa had never had a problem with her self-esteem, though. Not that she was full of herself, just very sure of herself.

[prince_of_nymphs]

The server came over and Fin ordered a pitcher, the sliders, and then the sampler as well.

[pippa_flynn]

Pippa flashed the girl a brilliant smile and desire radiated from her. She didn't have to say or do anything at all, really, but as the server left she was flushed and warmed by Pippa's attention.

"This wait will seem like forever. I'm so hungry," she said. She pushed her leg forward and toed Fin's foot playfully under the table.

[prince_of_nymphs]

Fin nudged her back, slouching gracefully in his seat and closing his unseeing eyes as he let the thumping music wash over him.

"Wont be too long," he promised. "It's busy, I bet they already have all the food half ready to go."

[pippa_flynn]

She warred with him under the table playfully. It prompted a few heartfelt laughs. Then the server returned with the pitcher and two glasses.

"Thank you," Pippa said, making the server blush. But Pip thought nothing of it- she wasn't the first woman she'd ever made blush without trying. And besides, Fin was her focus tonight. Or for now, at least.

"Here's your glass," she said, holding his glass until he could get hold of it.