insistingly | | open rp |

[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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