"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!