[Social] Painting the Town

[Will Stanton]

Will had texted Miriam, asking her to meet him in front of the school that evening, so the two could head out.

A few minutes of waiting there, alone, might have Miriam thinking Will was chickening out. Leaving someone in the cold like that -- even someone who, being technically dead, wouldn't feel it quite so much -- was not the most polite thing to do.


And then, a squeal of tires and the throaty roar of an engine came from around the twisty roads that led up to the university proper; an elegant black supercar drifting perfectly around the turn into view, skidding into a 180 and coming to a stop perfectly in front of the gates themselves. The light flashed off the silver 'Stanton' badge on the back as the engine idled and headlights flashed.

[Miriam Bell]

Miriam meanwhile seems to have opted for a simple, yet still somewhat preposterous dress.

"Not what I would have expected, but I do have to admit that you brought it." she says as she descends the couple steps from the dorms and takes the long way around the car towards the passenger-side door, running a finger along the roofline of the car.

[Will Stanton]

The door swung open as Miriam approached, gull-winging up to provide easy access. The interior of the car was done in dark red leather -- not quite blood red, but clearly more Miriam's style than Will's. Cashmere and microfiber trimmings added a touch of elegance to the cabin; the panoramic glass roof letting the fading light of the day into the interior to complete the effect.

"What, you want to take the bus dressed like that? Get on board the train with people coming home from work?" Will's voice crackled from the radio. "Perhaps you were intending to hitchhike to our final destination?" A simplified version of her face appeared on the small touchscreen in the center console. "Or maybe a nice walk across the motorway was in your plans."

[Miriam Bell]

"They're called cabs, but this has much more style." she says as she climbs inside.

[Will Stanton]

"Hey, if you want to pay me cab fare, be my guest," Will joked. "Though you may need to technically wire it to the university itself."

The leather seat shifted slightly under her, better conforming to her to provide a more comfortable ride, the seatbelt wrapping itself around her once she got situated.

"Now -- did you have any particular plans in mind? You said you wanted to paint the town red, so I presume an art gallery," she laughed.

[Miriam Bell]

"I'm not in the mood for pretentious conversations. You take us to one of London's high-class clubs, I'll get us in."

[Will Stanton]

"I know just the place.

Or knew just the place. We'll see what's there in this universe."

With that, the seatbelts around Miriam tightened just a bit more as the car burnt rubber, peeling out away from the gate and down the twisty roads towards the motorway.

[Miriam Bell]

Miriam's not the type to shout in excitement, but she does have a very satisfied smirk on her face as the sports-car takes off and pushes her into the comfortable fit of the seat.

[Will Stanton]

Miriam and the car roared through the early night, hitting full throttle on stretches of the A12, damn the speed cameras. Will didn't need a driver behind the wheel; he maneuvered his way around the corners and through traffic with practiced ease, squeezing through small gaps when necessary and making excellent time -- in less than an hour, the two were speeding into London proper, Will slowing to normal speeds as the two bypassed Mutant Town, headed towards SoHo and some of the most exclusive clubs in the city.

"At the next intersection, turn left," Will's voice came from the touchscreen, as the coupe eased it's way off the beaten path.

[Miriam Bell]

"Are you telling yourself where to go? Which, by the way, where are we going? You seem to have a destination in mind already."

[Will Stanton]

"Just making conversation. Figured you'd rather hear me than the radio," Will joked. "Or me and the radio."


The car pulled it's way to a stop. "And you said you wanted to go somewhere high-class. Assuming this place is here what it was back home, we're there. They don't exactly advertise. Figured you'd prefer that to the Ministry of Sound or some such nonsense"

From the outside, the building they had stopped in front of looked like a fairly regular multi-story building, the only indication that something might be different being the large man out front, or the number of expensive looking cars in the area.

[Miriam Bell]

"Okay, okay..." she says with an appreciative nod, letting her mind brush over whoever might be in range to get a feeling for the kind of place hidden behind the plain facade.

[Narrator]

The place was a hotspot, that was for sure. A lot of very charged emotional states; the result of alcohol and music and a floorshow and general debauchery and hedonism.

It didn't...quite seem up Will's alley, and yet she had specifically driven here, and straight here, without hesitation.

[Miriam Bell]

"And you know of this place how exactly?" she asks appreciatively as she swings open the car door and steps out, revealing the rather generous slit in her dress that is otherwise hidden in it's folds.

[Will Stanton]

"I've been taken here before," Will said, clearly not telling the whole story.

Between the time Miriam had gotten out of the car and the time she turned back around, Will had shifted again. She had chosen an almost-dress, leaving little to the imagination -- a short black bodycon dress with a deep V neck, just on the bleeding edge of decent. The poor company that made it must have been suffering from a major fabric shortage.

[Miriam Bell]

"Bloody hell..." Miriam let's out as she catches herself staring. "You brought it and then some."

[Will Stanton]

"When people ask me to do something, I try to nail it. And I have some experience in these matters," she smirked.

[Miriam Bell]

"Is that so? Well, then shall we go and turn some heads?" she asks, holding out her arm to Will.

[Will Stanton]

"You'll have to get us in," Will said, taking Miriam's arm. "We're not pop starlets or lesser members of the royal family; it's an exclusive list."

[Miriam Bell]

"I think I can manage. I'm thinking... eccentric artist?" she says as she approaches the front door and the bouncer, doing her best to not even acknowledge his existence until he refuses to move and loudly clears his throat.

"Private function." he rumbles at them and Miriam makes a point out of taking an almost offended step back and staring at the man wild eyed.

"Excuse you, I am Mallory Burton!" she huffs and at the same time reaches for the man's mind, skittering across his thoughts and looking for an angle. He doesn't really care for the prestige itself, he's just hired muscle, letting somebody not invited in only matters to him so far as he might get fired and he doesn't really care about offending anybody he turns down. He has a list he's studied pretty well and feels confident in recognizing her as not permitted inside. But deep down, past the motivation of being well paid and the steadfastness that bought is a tiny little fear. He doesn't care about the fame of most of those he lets in, even despises them a little, but that means there's always that tiny little nagging doubt of not being on the pulse of whatever the hell his clients are on. Missing somebody new because he just doesn't really care about that shit.

"Un-be-lie-va-ble! He forgot, didn't he? This is what you get for keeping everything so hush-hush your invitations don't get committed to paper but simply the spoken word. Are you absolutely certain he did not mention me? Surely he must have said something about me. I made a splash at the Tate? It was in all the society blogs." she huffs out a sigh. And in his mind she starts tugging at the right spots. He does zone out sometimes when the topic comes to the ebb and flow of high-society, relying on being told directly about anyone who garnered or fell out of favour. He must have missed it. Shit. Did he? Memory is so unreliable. He did hear about some Mallory Burton, didn't he? The memory is there from just a couple moments ago, all Miriam has to do is connect it to an earlier conversation he'd had, leave it tenuous enough he'll fill in the blanks himself.

"He... He did, actually. My apologies. I didn't recognize you but the name does sound familiar."

"That's quite alright, luv." she says, patting him on the arm which serves as a subtle nudge to make him take a half-step to the side and open the door for her. "Why thank you." she says with her best fake smile and steps inside, Will in tow.

[Will Stanton]

"Uh, I'm her...muse," Will said, in one of the lamer excuses offered by mankind. With the guard's mind somewhat befuddled, however, it works, and the two of them gained access to Syn.

((Syn, really? Pretentious name if I'd ever heard one...))

The two walked up a staircase, and through a metal door, and were greeted by a thumping baseline and a writhing mass of human flesh. The room was centered around a sort of pit as the dance floor, lined up in front of a stage -- the stage was currently empty, with a DJ off to the side playing house music to get the party jumping. Before you got there, velvet-covered benches and seats surrounded tables, where you could sit and have your drink or your food and maybe get a second's breath from everything. Three colored doors in the back led...well, elsewhere, because that's how doors worked.

Above them, suspended the ceiling, were several cages. Inside them were dancers, all of whom made Will look positively prudishly dressed. The waitstaff were slightly more covered, though very much in an artsy, leather-clad 'Bacchus unchained' sort of way. As for the clubgoers themselves, they were dressed to the proverbial nines -- the latest fashions, the most Bond-esque suit cuts. Was that Aston Villa's star forward sitting in the corner? Miriam certainly wouldn't know!

[Miriam Bell]

"Oh this is excellent." Miriam almost swoons. "Come on, let's dance!" she adds before pulling Will along with her into the mass of dancers.

[Will Stanton]

The floor is packed, but maybe that just adds to the atmosphere, Miriam and Will squeezing their way through the throng of revelers to reach a place where the two of them can dance, or at least move to the rhythms of the club track, the bass thumping hard enough they can feel it in their chests. As Miriam's technically dead and Will technically doesn't have a body that works right, the steady pulse of the music is almost a fitting replacement for their missing hearts.

[Miriam Bell]

With the music hammering through her and the heat of the crowd around them it's almost enough to feel alive, but even aside from that it just feels good to move to the music and let herself get lost a little. Not enough to completely lose herself, she makes sure to keep her focus on herself, her body, her movements and sticking close to Will as... a familiar mind that helps her keep her own thoughts and feelings distinct. And perhaps a bit focused on the flimsy dress she's wearing.

[Will Stanton]

Miriam wasn't the only one focused on Will and her flimsy dress. The two of them weren't quite the center of attention -- it was a big club, with actual famous people, not just people faking it -- but they had more than a few eyes drawn their way. Will's dance training might have been classical rather than club, but between that and her more fluid understanding of physicality, she could certainly move, and there were a few jealous looks at Miriam and her eyecandy as the music pulsed on.

Will's familiar mind did help keep Miriam centered, of course. And as the two of them danced, Miriam got a clearer picture of how she was doing. Every now and again, she saw Will's eyes darting around the club, looking at the cages, the doors in the back -- just general distractions, with flashes of memory triggered every now and again. And, for all the intensity and physicality of the dance, it was clear that Will was playing a role. Everything, from the choice of venue to the style of the car to the way her dress threatened to, but managed not quite to, slip off -- all designed to aid Miriam. An accessory, designed to draw eyes -- not all that different from her choice of makeup or hairstyle.

That's not to say that Will wasn't enjoying herself or anything -- far from it. And it was authentic enjoyment of the experience, not some parasocial "I'm happy if you're happy" bullshit -- she was losing herself in the rhythm and the dance. Losing herself in the role, enjoying the eyes on her and the feelings they provoked. There just was a small disconnect between the enjoyment and her core self, if that made sense -- enjoyment of enjoyment; second-order debauchery.

When Miriam had had Will in her thrall, of course, she had him play the role she needed, and then felt guilty about it, and it was possible that some of those feelings might return with Will playing this role for her tonight. On the other hand, Null and the Idiot had been the result of mind jujus and whammies, influenced by a terrible mental fingerprint. This time, on the other hand, Miriam hadn't done a thing to draw this part of Will out -- this was entirely of Will's own choosing. After Miriam had dragged herself through Will's sewage of a mind, Will was more than repaying her by giving her a night on the town, a night where she could feel normal...no, more than normal. Important and special. A gift, then?

[Miriam Bell]

On the surface it might seem like something that could remind Miriam of a guilty feeling, but to her this is nothing like what she'd accomplished messing with Will's mind. It's much closer to the feeling she'd been trying for, if anything. Maybe something mutual could never really be imposed anyway. As they're dancing she puts her arms around her waist and pulls her in close until her lips are brushing against Will's ear.

"With how you're feeling right now I can't help but wonder what goes on behind those doors you keep glancing at..." she whispers.

[Will Stanton]

"Private...functions," Will said, carefully. "Discreet, and very invitation only."

That thought, or the memories thereof, seemed to make Will more uncomfortable than the arms around her waist or the breath in her ear.

[Miriam Bell]

"Knowing all of this is not from a voluntary visit, is it?"

[Will Stanton]

"Not...not precisely, no," Will admitted.

[Miriam Bell]

"And yet you took me here anyway. Is that your indulgence for the night? Reliving the parts of it you enjoyed despite the... circumstances?"

[Will Stanton]

"If that was what I was looking for, there were better places to choose, Miriam," Will frowned.

[Miriam Bell]

"Then what are you looking for? I can tell you enjoy playing the role, but if this is one of the places she took you..."

[Will Stanton]

"It is. And dancing in the cages was actually pretty good; being sent into the back room with some marks, not so much."

She paused for a moment, waiting for a lull in the beat.

"We're here because...I thought you would like it. Because you beat yourself up so much, and you're always afraid to let anyone get close, because you might hurt them, or they might hurt you. That's why you try to grab control of things, so you know you're safe. You are safe. Look around you. Feel around you. You're the center of attention. You can feel the rhythm of the room, revolving around you here. You're in control, with someone who chose to be here with you tonight, even if it's not the place they might have chosen for themselves. This is your night.

It's not about me..." she said, trailing off before she completed a thought, still holding back some.

[Miriam Bell]

"Isn't it? I asked you for a night of both of us letting loose and this is what you chose. I think this is your way of asking for something that you simply can't, because it would defeat the purpose." she says, placing a finger against Will's chest high enough to remain modest but not so much it's entirely benign as she kinds of corners her in against the crowd at her back. "Am I wrong?"

[Will Stanton]

"Not...not entirely," Will admitted.

"What am I looking for? I think I figured it out. The valve that was stuck. The energy drain. The tiredness, the irritability.

Being me is too hard. Back home, I could always stop being me for ten minutes, a few hours, a long weekend, and get up ready to face the day again. I don't have that here.

What am I looking for? The difference between you and Mel, Miriam, is that you care. I was nothing to Melpomene; insignificant; a pawn in her long game against a being bigger than you or I could imagine. I don't think that's what I am to you.

What am I looking for? I'm looking to be ridden hard and put away wet. I looking to be put through my paces, pushed to my limits, all in the name of a good time. I'm looking to come home, clinging to you, drenched in your sweat and perfume, and tossed aside like so much used up cloth, set to be tidied up the next morning when your hangover dries down. I'm looking to run through the woods until I'm taken down by a pack of wolves, dragged back home as a trophy to lie there as Sam and her pack celebrate the thrill of the hunt. I'm looking to be an adjunct of a massive crystalline, interdimensional computer; a peripheral for exploring worlds beyond our comprehension, to go and suffer the dangers where human beings dare not tread.

And, what I'm looking for is for that computer, those wolves, that dancer, to look me in the eye the next morning -- or afternoon, or three-day weekend. As friends, sharing a cup of coffee or an afternoon math class without ruining that by dwelling on what came before. That one of the roles I enjoy to play, from time to time, is normalicy. That I can be both the player and the game, despite the doublethink that that inherently requires."


And," she added, almost as an afterthought, looking down at Miriam's finger. "I'm looking for someone who remembers that I'm married twice over, and not looking to go for the three-peat.

You're not wrong. And there are plenty of ways to play the game even if you don't end up scoring. Just a....word to the wise, as it were."

[Miriam Bell]

"If I wanted to get laid I'd imagine I could do so within ten minutes." she says bluntly, hooking her finger into the cleavage of Will's dress without actually touching her. "But you are clearly trying to have your cake and eat it too, even if you do end up sleeping on the floor as dirty laundry. Especially if you do. Because it's not strictly sexual but I recognize horny when I see it. And you my dear, are so very horny for getting worked over thoroughly."

[Will Stanton]

"I have slept with my wife one time in the last 13.8 billion years. I apologize for any pent-up hormones you may be getting second-hand, Ms. Bell," she said, sticking her nose up ever-so-snootily.

[Miriam Bell]

"Are you going to apologize for being a little brat too? The only one here who knows what being faithful to your wife looks like is you."

[Will Stanton]

"I don't think one should apologize for things that are just of their nature. Samantha is a creature of myth; a flock of ravens guarding here from the afterworld. Tereza is a lupine avenger; fierce, proud and protective. You're a creature of the night; a pale-skinned winder of fates.

I'm a brat," she shrugged. "Deep down in my soul. And if I ever encroach on something I feel that I need to apologize for, I'm sure I would let you know."

[Miriam Bell]

"Very well, you'll be my brat for tonight then." Miriam laughs and pulls Will back in by her dress but then yanks up as well, flashing her a mental image of a draping a stylish shawl around herself.