Thread: Note Bleue [4]
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Name: Patricia Jane [pətrɪʃə dʒeɪn] | Gender: Lady | Age: 23 | Posts: 2,327 | Roses: 50
Old 03-14-2017 at 03:57 AM
Hidden Away
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OOC: For Damon and Demi. To forming our characters and seeing who will lay down the law first ;) BIC:

Demetria Falcon

9:55pm. The floor was filled right now, but in a matter of moments once this song ended would tell what kind of life each person lead after 10pm. This time in the evening out always weeded out the men and the boys. Especially at the Note Bleue. Sitting at the top tier of the audience closest to the exits, she watched different couples at the end of each song either leave the floor together or part ways. The girls leave the guys stranded on the floor or the guys walk them back to their original gal pal groups...sometimes they just walk in two completely different directions without a word. You'd see couples leave together as the night slows down, but you quickly grab tabs on the guys that stick around a little longer. In the dark upper most corner of the club, Demi sipped her Boulevardier, fishing for the three cherries she requested at the bottom of the glass with the orange garnish. She was probably half way through her first drink. Her drink pace told a similar story of the nights she'd stop by the club. She wasn’t too sure about tonight’s crowd. Everyone looked pretty coupled off or grouped away in their boy and girl groups. Not many ladies or guys stood on their own tonight. That was about it tonight.

She looked around and noticed the same guy dancing with a new girl. He seemed to be the last guy wandering on his own tonight. Good for him. He was on to his sixth dance from this larger group of girls...probably too young to really know what they were doing out there, hence the large group. He seemed to have this group down to a science. His M.O.? A few moments into the song, he’d look for the girl of the circle that tilted her head around the floor a bit too much, as if she were looking for someone who was coming to ask them for a dance. He’d ask the neighboring friend for a dance, leaving the abandoned friend slightly jaded. Demi predicted that he'd eventually ask all the other friends to dance before finally getting to the last one; the real one he was after perhaps.

She'd seen that method before. Maybe not the most time effective, but probably the most cost effective if he picked the right circle of girls to prey off of. She predicted that he’d ask that girl to the back hall and they’d disappear off once they finally got in their much anticipated dance. Maybe 15 minutes later, she’d watch her friends get a text from the girl letting them know she’s occupied. Maybe an hour later, she’d watch the same pair, once awkward and irritated, now looser, more physical, and leaving together in the same taxi. But that was all a prediction and it was still pretty early. Anything could happen.

Demetria had been sitting at the club since 8:45 pm. The evening always started off with a band and beginner lessons at 8pm. On her Fridays she’d get past her bouncer friends, sneak in the back, order her drink, and sit either at the top of the audience banquettes or at the bar closest to the pianist. Sometimes she'd take the time to dance if she were asked, but most of the time she'd let them down easy. The staff knew her pretty well. She was just here for the music, but that didn't mean she couldn't pick up a few social dances here and there. Tonight, she was taking to her small, but introverted side watching the whole dance floor from the top banquette row. But that was only tonight. Other nights she’d sit in between the pianist and the barkeeps and they’d talk and place fake bets on the couples there on dates. Sometimes she was right on the money: they would come back next week, other times, they were never to be seen again. They all eventually disappeared for good. Maybe they were getting on with their lives, and she was at a stand still. Either way, this place of limbo seemed to be an interesting view for now.

That mental calculation of watching these social exchanges fascinated her. Maybe she wanted to appear more jaded than she actually was, but she kept her distance most of the time from the drama of the dance floor. In a way, the staff has accepted her in their own way. They'd sneak her a drink or two, they'd let her sneak into the bar from the service door, and sometimes she'd visit her friends playing for the night back stage in the dressing rooms. The bouncers just knew that she was fine to be where she was, so they rarely asked her for ID. In a way, it was almost embarrassing how well they knew her.

Extended her legs in the booth, Demi reached for her drink from the table beside her. She swung back the rest of the elixir in her rocks glass, finally able to reach the three cherries at the bottom of the glass. Grabbing them one at a time, she sat amused at the dwindling crowd. People didn't appreciate jazz anymore. Maybe that was an overstatement for the entire world, but right now, here in Note Bleue, things were slowing down at 10:15 pm and that kind of killed a small bit of Demetria. Maybe it was the musical rebel in her, but jazz couldn't be dying so soon in this lifetime. Granted her job as a classically trained musician didn't help that any, but she still knew there was a place for the forever changing world of improvisation. It reflected life and struggles; life was constantly rewritten to adjust for human error and it only seemed appropriate to have sounds that reflect that flow and ebb in life.

A waitress passed and asked if she wanted a fresh drink. Demi declined, it was too early to get drink number two in her three-drink rotation. The night was still young. She turned to the side and slipped off her heels. She had the whole banquette to herself. Curling her ankles to her side on the bench, she leaned an elbow against the backrest of the booth. Tonight was pretty slow. Typically one of her friends played in the band and she'd go down to chat with them in between sets, but they were away from town for business. Her social energy was bored and unmotivated. Typically extroverted, Demi sought out friends, but tonight she felt more aloof. Maybe it was the crowd and the quiet and mellow jazz in the background. She pulled her spaghetti straps up her shoulder as she adjusted her dress. She watched around for the same guy on the prowl, but she couldn't find him or his target girl. Maybe they already left together. Tonight was great for some people. Others just sat at jazz clubs, alone on a Friday night.

OOC: That guy on the prowl could be Damon if you so choose, but this is just a reflection of my experience and observations when I go out to social dance events. There's always that one guy! Haha! I don't know about you, but I'm totally feeling this muse right now! BIC:


We were angels once, don't you remember? Joys in life, inside our souls; and nobody knows, just you and me. It's our secret.
And your child-like eyes, and your distant smile; I'll never be this happy again! You and I. And no one else. || Maybe he'll come today. Maybe he came already...
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