insistingly | | open rp |

Heeeeey.

[Marc is not typically a guy to get bulldozed. He's having his own sort of off night. Waking up by a flower shop, strolling around a city. Sirens and the throng speaking English. He knows he's stateside. That is about the most reassuring thing. How long has Steven been at the wheel? Time is a human construct. So what can you do? Not like he can tally away days.

Might as well get a drink. Easy to find cash, easy to get cash. And if there is an American city, it's going to have a bar.

The body that has swayed into him catches as easy as a dance. He's got a hand on his shoulder and another at the man's wrist.]

I'm good. You good?

[He cranes his neck, trying to meet the man's eyes. Blue, oh what a blue. The friendly smile flips up simply enough seeing that there's a haze that is always added by booze. No sense in trying to pick a fight and draw attention.]

Maybe we should sit down?

[So as not to trip over one another.]

[ Caleb feels himself calm down the minute their eyes meet, both remaining upright and steadying each other. His own mouth quirks into a lazy smirk, not able to stop himself from admiring the face of the other man.

Shorter than him but stocky, definitely had a grip on him. ]

I'll be good when I can get to the club over there.

[ He jerks his chin in the opposite direction, towards the direction of a place on the corner. Caleb's eyes go to it before coming back to the man before him, and he only bites down on his bottom lip for less than a second, ]

Wanna come with?

Edited (better icon choice tbh) 2023-01-24 06:13 (UTC)

[Oh-oh shit. That smile was not what he was expecting. Paired with blue eyes, holy shit was Marc not ready here. Tall too? What the fresh hell is going on here.]

Well.... uh.

[No agenda. No plans. No clear mission. This would usually terrify a person. Marc has been used to waking up and adapting. Usually situations are dangerous. What could be dangerous about blue eyes and that grin? He feels the easy, light feeling in his chest. Oh. This is a different kind of trouble.]

Sure. I don't know if I'm dressed for the occasion.

[His feet are already moving, siding up to this handsome stranger.]

What's to get dressed for? The lights will change the look of everything anyway.

[ Bathe them in reds, blues, violets, and then some. He's always been a fan of colored lights and how they can change the atmosphere of any place.

(He's assuming the alcohol is making the words come so easily for him.)

Caleb moves his shoulder to bump into the other man's, still smiling and admiring the look of him. At least what he could make out of his dark hair, dark eyes. Such striking features that Caleb is sure he's never seen him around the city before now. Surely he would have remembered such a face... ]

I'm Caleb. What should I call my... date?

[ Kinda technically is. Right? ]

[Whatever kind of state he's in, this man Caleb is certainly smooth with words. Marc nods. The motion of his head bobbing approvingly is too short and too enthusiastic to be to the music coming from the clubs around them.]

I'm Marc.

[No question, no concern with the forward approach. The confusion and intensity of his typical life weight on him, it can't always be like that. He has to breathe, he has to cut loose. One bold move to match Caleb, Marc reaches for his hand.]

[ Caleb allows Marc to take his hand, his smile turning into more of a lop-sided grin as they walk. He turns it to Marc, squeezing his hand as he does so. ]

Caleb. Nice to meet you.

[ There's a thought in the back of Caleb's mind: that if it were this easy to just grab up a cute guy, he might've tried doing this more often. He tries to mentally stomp on it, finding it ridiculous his mind could go there. ]

Do you make it a habit of going along with drunk guys on their embarrassing escapades?

[The way his lips move and the sound of the clubs and party scene getting louder, Marc knows no person would be named Cherub. Caleb. And his own mix up of seconds makes him smile, is it the fumes of the alcohol and the freedom of crowds in mostly darkness that makes your head begin to lose rationality. The mercenary business has you come across the tell tale signs of a honeytrap.

Except it's too natural, too smooth to be a fumbling improvisation, he has done his share.]

Oh, are you drunk?

[He bumps shoulders to emphasize the joke.]

I'm a guy who needs to have as much of a night off and night out as possible.

[ Caleb ends up laughing at that, grinning afterward as he tries to nudge Marc back but ends up leaning on him some. He straightens himself, though, chuckling and shrugging as they approach the door of the club. ]

If I can help with that, more than happy to.

[ He leads Marc in, the song they were playing coming in loud and clear as the blue and magenta lights swirl over the people already there. Over the music, Caleb leans in and asks, still holding the other man's hand. ]

Want a drink?

[Close. Far. Who cares. They're in America. At least no place that is gonna be terrifically problematic gauging the dress, the weather and the New Yorker in him.]

Yeah? I had a feeling.

[At least an urge. An urge is a feeling. And there are plenty of those here. Bodies press close and the crowd sways. The lights play with the music, a decent club.]

I'll have what you're having.

[ Caleb winks at the other man and orders them both a shot of whiskey and then a rum and coke to go with it once they get up to the bar proper. Has he already had enough to drink? Probably. He likes to think he's done way more during his time in Vermont.

This was really him going "back to his roots", whether sober him would agree or not (definitely not). Getting wasted and trying to get with a cute guy. At least this time it wasn't at trashy house parties with too much booze and less than legal substances, but an actual club serving booze legally.

He tosses the shot back when they get it and clinks his shot glass to Marc's before flipping it upside down and setting it back on the wooden bar. Good shit. ]

[Watching the glasses accumulate on the bar really makes Caleb's state make more sense. He's drinking to get drunk. He clinks his own shot glass and downs it. The bitter burn is familiar, fiery. Marc breathes out the heat and then chases it with a gulp of rum and coke. ]

Mmmmnnn.

[After a gulp he clicks his tongue.]

Are you celebrating anything, Caleb?

[Though something in his eyes already dismisses that.]

[ Caleb takes another swig of his rum and coke before shaking his head. ]

Nope. Just...

[ He shrugs, still leaning up against the bar, ]

Not wanting to be stuck inside tonight.

[ With his own thoughts, own feelings, and all the ghosts that live there. ]

[The fizzy sweet and bitterness is easily addicting. He takes another sip but can't help but keep his eyes on Caleb. The slouch of him, the manner of him.]

Nights in the city is best spent out. Too much life all around.

[For better or for worse.]

That sums it up for myself.

[ Caleb smirks more easily at him with that kind of response. It's good enough for him. This was nothing more than a night of indulgence.

He takes another swig from his drink before setting it back down and leaning in a little closer, ]

Do you dance?

[Closer, and he can smell more than just booze. The shampoo or whatever. It's masculine, subtle. The awareness of it and feeling a brush of Caleb's breath ever so slightly on him as they are closer than before. Oh this is going to be so much more. He can already tell.]

With enough of this, sure. Don't put me in any competitions.

[ A laugh breezes out of him, grinning as he leans back, closer to his drink. ]

It all depends on the song for me.

[ He's not great at it, but he can at least get lost in a good song when he feels like it. Definitely when he's got a drink (or 2 or 3) in him.

He then winks at the other man, using his hand to signal for a refill. ]

Don't worry, your secret is safe with me.

Song, huh?

[If they were sober this would be where conversation about music taste would go. Instead Marc takes a big gulp from his glass.]

We all can't be talented in every way. I stomp like an elephant without any alcohol. It's better for everyone.

[Though right now the way Caleb is so inebriated he wagers he would still have a grand time.]

[ Caleb would've been more than happy to talk shop about music, but the comment about being "talented in every way" and the mental image of Marc stomping around the dance floor just makes him laugh.

He sways against the bar, still leaning against it, but not really stopping his hips from moving to the current beat going. ]

I'm a hack, man. Don't even start with me.

[ Harsh self-loathing? Maybe. But not entirely untrue. So much of Caleb's life in Hell's Kitchen has been improvising and making things work by the skin of his teeth. ]

Ohhh now this I gotta see. Okay, big guy.

[Marc nods with purpose. He throws back the rest of his drink.]

We're gonna dance. Come on. Down the hatch. Show me what you got. We'll figure it out. Good. Bad. Who cares.

[The sway and the tunes sorta just...do something. In the military they say sounds directly impact the brain. What also impacts the brain is alcohol. OH and a few natural chemicals like serotonin. Arousal response.

Aw fuck Marc.]

[ Caleb laughs again, nodding, ]

Alright, tough guy. I wanna see that elephant dance of yours.

[ Does that make sense? Not really. But they are both getting a buzz (Caleb more so) and the music and vibe is good. Why not take advantage?

He downs the rest of his drink, shivering as it goes down and giving a gruff guffaw after it subsides. Not a second later, he's grabbing the front of Marc's shirt and leading him to the dance floor by it. Walking backwards, hips swaying to music, shoulders joining in as he does so. It's like Caleb never left those old days in Vermont.

Maybe a part of him still wanted to fall back into them. At least the partying part. Where he could lose himself in the pleasure of it all. Before everything went to shit. ]

[Oh fuck it is going down. Marc was going to show him what kind of stupid, nu metal style thrashing he mustered. But then they stayed close. The music was more electric, frantic and mindless with the bass in his chest and synth glittering in the air.]

Oh you can dance.

[Hips, arms and lively, Marc stays agile with a fighter's prowess, more instinct than expression. How'd they fall in movement so easy? So easy.]

[ Caleb laughs, the grin staying on his face as he continued to dance, letting the beat guide his movements more than anything else. It was a lot easier when he was buzzed (or just flat out drunk) because he didn't care how he looked then. No longer the self-conscious tall blonde that felt like he never had any rhythm and could only move with purpose on the basketball court. ]

You're pretty good yourself.

[ Then, his arms are resting on Marc's shoulders, moving in closer, hips almost touching. Leaning in to say into the other man's ear more directly, ]

Thanks for taking me up on this.

[ Because he could've so easily said "no" back out on the sidewalk. Could've told him to go fuck himself and walk away. But no. Here he was, in Caleb's arms, looking like a damn daydream come to life. ]

[The smell of all the drinks knocked back before even meeting is like a sour, alluring cologne on Caleb. He should stay away, a smart person would. Marc has never fancied himself to be a smart person. And he can't keep his wits with this man so close to him, dancing and laughing. This is the best of civilian life, the best of a life he can only glimpse into.

Breath and heat on him as he speaks into his ear, it makes Marc clutch at him. He laughs at himself, the giddy dumb feeling of how much talking is thrilling. God.]

Hey, I mean. I'm the lucky one. I didn't know I'd be here. Pretty nice.

[The drinks? No. The place? Oh no. He can feel himself just working through finding another excuse. His arms touch on Caleb's shirt and chest.]

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