[couleur=#009b63]    Cyrus pulled the car over several blocks from the brick buidling, prefering to walk the short distance, taking in the night air, and more importantly, ensuring that no one was following him. He was not expecting anyone to be, but better safe than sorry when in a new city. Sometimes, curiousity got the better of some of the lesser denziens, but a prolonged icy gaze was usually enough to disuade most of them from further interests. The front of the building loomed before him, and he step into the entrace way, entering into the dusky haze.
   The tables, booths, and bar had a myriad of persons, from the period music enthusiasts, to an occasional couple looking for a romantic evening out. Soft jazz music rolls across the room to greet him, the sounds of muted trumpets and brushed snare drums soothing to Cyrus's ears, and he recognizes it as Lee Morgan's "I'm a Fool To Want You."
  He drifts slowly from the entryway into the main reception area, almost entranced by the music, lulled into memories of the past. Carelessly, he drifts a touch close to one of the potted plants tastefully placed near the entrance, and it immediately starts to change from a luscious green to a noxious brown, shriveling, withering and dying in the space of a few seconds.
  The slight crackling sound catches his attention under the sound of the jazz, and he quickly moves away, making sure that his movements block any direct views off the plant. He casually drifts to where he sees a waitress standing, drawing glances  with the his graceful, easy movements. The cool gaze comes to rest upon the woman as he approaches her, the smile melting with seemingly genuine warmth, practically oozing that type charm that always seems to instantly set people at ease.
   "Excuse me Miss", he says, coughing softly to draw her attention to him. There is the slightest of accents touching his cultured voice..maybe[couleur=#001ce2] british, but refined and proper."Perhaps you would be able to help me...."

The waitress, who had just dropped off a drink order, turns and smiles to Cyrus. She is a pretty girl, with big hazel eyes and ruddy brown hair cut into a flapper's bob. She tosses her head a bit, casting strands of hair out of her face.
"Oh yes sir," her voice is actually quite nasal and flavored with a distinct North Eastern drawl. "The drink of the night is sex on the beach and tonight's band in a rockabilly number called Rockin' Caskets. The show starts in an hour, would ya like me to get you a seat?"

Natsaha descends from her office like a spider from her web. She curls down the spiral stairscase, brown eyes surveyng the packed club. She is quite pleased, because a busy club is a profitable club, and a profitable club makes a club owner VERY hospitable.
She makes her way through the hrong of club goers to her bar. She smiles 'sweetly' as the tender promptly hands her a drink.

 Cyrus flashes his best smile at the young lady, knowing full well how charming he can be. She is a pretty young thing, though not at all to his preference. 'It's a good thing I'm not hungry', he thinks to himself, his smile growing wider.
  He winces inwardly as she opens her mouth and that piercing nasal voice assualts his ears, repressing the sudden desire to crush her larnyx just to supress that horrid voice. Granted, Cyrus spent so many of his formative years in New York, but those grating nasal voices have always irked him. Perhaps they remind him of his mother.....
  He sees that the waitress is waiting for a reply, and devotes his full attention to her.
  "A seat? No, no, my dear! Don't trouble yourself with such things. But there is something that you could help me with.."  
    Cyrus reaches into his coat pocket as he talks to the waitress, extracting a elegeant metal box. with the barest flick of the thumb, he pops it open revealing several cigars that just look expensive. Removing one from the case, his quickly snaps it shut again, and slides it back into the confines of his suit coat with the deft motions brought about by decades of repetition.
   "Would the owners be here this evening? Or perhaps even the Manager. I would love to speak with them....to let them know how wonderful thier establishment is. And how wonderful their choice in waitress are!" He adds the last with a little wink that seems to flash as brightly as his smile.
   He reaches from the tray in her hands, picking up a pack of matches. The cigar makes it way to between his lips and lights a match, bring it to the tip of the cigar, getting it well lit. He holds the burning match in front her for a moment, and then with a flick of his hand both it and the book of matches disappear, and a neatly folded 50 dollar bill is laid onto the waiting tray.
  "It would mean a lot to me if you could bring one of them here for me to meet....."

The girl takes the fifty and pockets it quickly before he changes his mind.
"Oh yeah, Miss Milliner is here," she says, raising her hand and snapping a finger toward a bouncer. The tall, athletically built man walks over. He'd be handsome if his face didn't look like it lost a battle with woodchipper. The man looks to Cyrus and then to the waitress.
"This man wants to see Miss Milliner. Wants to compliment her on the club," the waitress makes a hand gesture toward Cryus, in a less then graceful fashion. The bouncer places his hand on his hip, straing at Cryus before silently drifting off to find Natasha. The waitress smiles to Cyrus.
"Now, you stay right here. Lars there will direct you to Miss Milliner," she says, leaving him where he stands without even a goodbye or I have to get back to work. He won't be standing there long.
Lars finds Natasha at the bar, nursing her usual drink of thne night, some wine or dark cocktail mixed with a healthy does of vitae. He leans down to whipser in her ear, a slow hand rises to motion toward Cryus. She waves Lars off dismissively, sipping her drink before spinning on her stool. She slides from it with calculated grace, her bottomless chocolate orbs pinned on Mister Cyrus. She gives him the faintest of smiles. the crowd parts as she makes her way through it. Seems there are multitude of rumors going around about Natasha, all based on her general moodiness. Some state that she is a secret dominatrix for hire...others say she's a demon straight from hell...then there are a many number of brainwashed sheep who wisely praise her for being fair and such a sweet girl.
"Are you a lover of fine jazz? A lover of this era? A lover of fine cigars? A lover of fine wines and liquors? Or, just a lover in general?"
She flashes him a white and dazzling smile.

Cyrus watches as the pox-faced bouncer named Lars lumbers over to a slender woman perched upon a barstool and whispers into her ear. He can only assume from the curt dismissal that she holds some influence in this club, whether as manager or owner, though Cyrus would guess owner, from her actions. She slides from her stool, and glides across the room towards him, an elegant figure in the soft din of the room, until she stands before him, effortlessly poised with a dark cocktail in hand. Her dark brown eyes peer intently at him as she asks her question.
  "Ahh..I would be guilty of all of the above, madame," he says, voice touched by the lightest touches of a british accen," but I am definitely an afficionado of fine jazz.. Something of that era enchants me, as though I had been there myself. Perhaps it was the people...They were more innocent then, not as corrupt and jaded as they are in these days." The tone of his voice drops slightly and his eyes momentarily lose their focus, as though is remembering a something from long ago.
     And just as suddenly, he is himself again, his green eyes flashing like twin emeralds in the clubs shifting light. A charming roguish smile, plays across his handsome face. "I apologize, madame...I was remembering the beautiful things of the past, when clearly, beautiful things of the present are before me. I am Mr. Cyrus Crewe,"he says with a slight half bow, "though you may call me Cyrus if you so desire. And you are?"
   
2008-10-04 00:40:36 Cyrus R. Crewe rolls 7 dice to charisma+subtfuge: charming (Diff 6, -2 for Enchanting Voice) 10,8,5,7,6, 7,7 (7 successes)

Natasha listens as the man speaks, a brow arching lightly as she notes his accent. She doesn't hide that she is studying him, her eyes sweep over his form appreciatively. THose orbs rise up to meet his lovely peridot eyes. 'As though I had been there myself...' the words roll over in her mind, but she says nothing. He speaks of the innocence of the Jazz age, and she smirks. The food these days does seem to have a chip on their shoulder.
She seems oblivious to his momentary mental abcense, an disagreeable customer had gotten her attention instead. She moves cary a muscle ash her eyes intently peer upon the man. He must have felt it, because he looks directly at her. She raises her glass to him. As her smile fades into a displease grimace, so does his ill attitude toward the waitress. The episode dissolves itself and she returns her attention to Cyrus as he snaps back to reality and introduces himself. Such a charming young man. She cants her head to the side, a smirk pulling at the corner of her lips.
"You're are too kind Cyrus," she says, extending a delicate hand toward him. "I am Natasha Milliner. Owner of this fine establishment. It is my distinct and delightful pleasure to meet you Cyrus."
She glances toward the VIP section. Truth be told, Natasha does not much care for the company of mindless sheep. Much less a crowd of them braying and baa-ing. She smiles to Cyrus.
"Mmm, I'm feeling a bit claustrophobic with all these people. Would you care to join me in the VIP?"

Cyrus takes her delicate hand into his, bending forward as though he would kiss the back of her hand, yet his lips never actually touch her skin, not even the barest of caresses. The gesture is definitely that of a refined gentleman, though a bit archaic in these more modern times. But then, it would appear that Cyrus is a man that celebrates the past as much as he lives in the future.
  As he takes her hand into his, she notices that his hands are icy cold, almost like they has just been pulled from a bath of ice water. Quickly, he releases her hand, as though he knows what she is sensing, eager to avoid further scrutiny on the matter. He gives a embarassed little smile as he excuses himself. "Poor circulation, Ms. Milliner. I'm afraid I've suffered from it for quite some time. Seems to draw the very warmth right from me at times."
    He follows her gaze a she glances towards the VIP area, an peaceful area of solace in the teeming throng that is building in the club. 'The Rockin' Caskets must put on a good show', he muses to himself as more people enter the buidling.
    "I would be delighted to join you, Ms.Milliner, if you would but lead the way!" He replies to her invitation, eyes locked upon hers, as though he were trying to see to the bottomless brown orbs, smiling softly all the while.
     She starts to VIP section, while Cyrus follows after her, taking in his surroundings and the multitude of people that are now occupying it, looking for people that are perhaps looking too closely. The more private their conversation could be, the better, by Cyrus's reckonings. Perhaps, if all went well tonight,well...it would make for a wonderful new beginning.
   She leads him into the luxurious VIP section, secluded from the rest on the club. He waits for her to take her seat, standing politely behind his own. "After you, Ms. Milliner...."

"Poor circulation indeed," she says with an impish smirk. "Oh, and please, call me Natasha."
One of the nearby waitresses will almost drop her tray upon hearing Natasha. She will look at Cyrus with a mix of shock and awe. She picks her jaw off the floor, offer a hurried excuse me and squeeze through the crowd to deliever her drink. Natasha leads him back toward the VIP lounge area, Lars will follow. No one is looking to carefully at the couple. Most are pinned to the stage as tonight's act start to set up. They tune up and the lights are tested. Waitresses and bus boys busy themselves with work. The tender work their magic liquor bottle gymnastics, gaining applause and tips.
The VIP section is decandent, painted in jewel toned hues of red and purple. Velvet covers the plush couches and sofa surrounding the large lounge area. It is much more quiet then the club itself. The silence hits you like a ton of bricks. She steps in, turning to smile at him.
"Please, make yourself at home," she motions to the seating area with a smooth, gracefully fluid motion. She sips her drink as their waitress enters the room. She is also a pretty girl, with long golden brown hair, half pulled up and curled into long, girly ringlets. Her face is full and apple cheeked, with a bright pretty smile. She is slender, yet short with sparkling blue eyes. Her Name is Tammy and she'll be taking your order tonight.
Natasha sets down on a love seat, she picks up a black walnut case and opens it, showing Cyrus the cigars within. She silently offers him one.
"So, Cyrus, are you fairly new in town? I haven't seen you around and I would remember a handsome face like you."

Cyrus looks at Natasha, one eyebrow raised, slightly smirking as she comments on his 'poor circulation'. He can tell that she is definitely a sharp one, and wouldn't buy into such a weak rationale. The smirk spreads into a seemingly genuine smile at her insistence of using her first name.  The waitress's surprise and stare is not lost at him either, even as she rushes off in her amazed state.
  "Natasha it is then, my dear" he says to her, following through the crowd. More and more people seem to continously pour through the doorway, crowding to the bar and tables, and Cyrus is suddenly glad that Natasha suggested the VIP area. Granted, this is where he intended to go from the beginning, but it is so much easier when suggested by the host, or hostess, as in this case.  
    They enter the posh VIP area, decorated in tones brighter than Cyrus really cares for. While he is all for warm colors, he does like things a litte more...subdued. However the seats are plush, and very comfortable. He waits for Natasha to be seated, and then follows suit, sinking into the thick cushions. He has noticed Lars/Pox trying to discretely follow them into the VIP, but it's must be hard to be very discrete when you are as seemingly as intelligent as a bag of hammers.
  The pretty young thing, Tammy is hovering near by, waiting to bring him what he needed. She is an enticing bit, that is for sure, but not quite the thing that quickens his pulse, or would if he still had one. Appearances, appearances..He knows he should really place an order, if only to keep up the facade.
  " A single malt scotch, dear, ..the oldest one you have in the house. And please, make it a double." He flashes her his most charming smile, hoping to make the young lady blush a bit, though he doubts that she is half as inoccent as she looks. He chuckles to himself as her face reddens a touch as she scurries off to bring his drink. He focuses intently back onto Natasha, watching her as she picks up the dark wood humidor, showing him the cigars within. She seems to make every move graceful, smooth and flowing.
  He graciously accepts one of the cigars, running the length of it beneath his nose, inhaling the fine aroma of it. A slight nod of the head in gratitude is given, eyes still locked upon her, even as she asks her questions
  "Why yes..I am fairly new here I would say," smiling braodly at her. "I just arrived here recently from New York, where handsome men as I are a dime a dozen! A busy, busy city...full of opportunities, but so loud and brash. It was time to seek a more quiet...refined life elsewhere."    The cigar case comes out of the suit coat again, and the new cigar disappears into it.  Perhaps he will enjoy it later, after he has finished the current one that he had lit earlier.
  "If you don't mind, Natasha, I shall enjoy this one later, and think of you fondly as I do so! But tell me...are you originally from this area, or were you lured by bigger and better things? I would love to know more about my gracious hostess!"

Tammy titters girlishly behind her hand as Cyrus flirts with her. Natasha watches this, smirking lightly. She can appreciate the skill and the art of charm. It is a pinaccle attribute to manipulation. She places the shiney cigar case down. Large cigars are nice, but she perfers sweet cigarellos or exspensive fragrant cigarettes.
"No, its quite all right. It is a gift, enjoy it when you will," she smiles when he says he'll think of her. She knows full well that he could just be blowing smoke up her skirt, but she rather enjoys the attention.
She reaches into her tiny evening bag, retrieving a box of expensive clove. She pulls a cigarette out, placing it between her lips. Her finger slide back across the flintwheel of her lighter, sparking a flame. She takes a few puffs before extinguishing the fire by flicking the lid back on with a crisp snap. She looks back up to Cyrus, exhaling a slow stream of smoke.
"Refined life indeed. I spent some holidays in New York in my youth, I partially enjoyed them. Of course, I'm sure much has changed since the last time I was there. It must be much cleaner now," she brings her cigarette back to her vermillion painted lips, drawing from it deeply. She smirks, concidering his question for a moment. "I don't mind at all. I'm orginally from up North, New England areas. Martha Stewart territory. I used to Summer and sometime Winter here until I was about fourteen or fifteen...Oh, I can't remember. It seems like hundreds of years ago now."
She chuckles lightly, her fingertips almost touching his knee, hovering but inches away before reurning to fold together in her lap.
"Well, ever since then, I've been here, I went to school here...Even though I didn't want too. Children can be like sharks in the water, they smell blood or weakness and start circling."
She rolls her eyes lightly, leting a slow smile creep across her face as she remembering her school days.
"Hmm, yes, after school here, I was sent to Harvard, and after Harvard...I came back here."

"So, Sandfield has had it's hold on you since your childhood?"he says, more statement than question. "Hmm...that is a long time for a place to have ahold on someone! Now, I don't know when the last time you were in New York was,though I doubt that they could ever completely clean that city, even if they had all the time in the world...Too much blood soaked through it..in the soil, in it's foundations.  But I'm sure it has changed a bit since then. That place never rests," he says, shaking his head,"But what is the old saying...No peace for the wicked?!"  
     Cyrus says the bit with a wicked little grin. This would usually send a shiver down most mortals backs and make them rather prone to being very nervous. But he knows that this will not be the case with Natasha. She seems to be one to inspire her own brand of fear and obedience in her own special ways. He has been aware of the proximity of her hand to him. Were his hands but free of that icy chill that permeated his being, he take her by her hand. Better to let her pursue that route if she desires it.
      He listens to all she says with rapt attention, absorbing brief history that she shares with him, picking out the sublte things..her reference to it seeming like hundreds of years, the scent of blood..words to further intrigue and entice him. He leans in towards her, positioning himself ever closer to her, making the setting more intimate.
     "Yes...children can be rather cruel, can't they? I experienced that a bit myself," he says in a low tone, as though he is confiding a dark secret to her, expression growing serious. And then he is smiling at her again, study her expressions, her movements and gestures. The smile that creeps upon her face delights him
    "But Harvard, Natasha!!" , he exclaims gently, maintaining the closeness between them. "I went there myself when I studied Law! Always nice to run into another alumni! I wonder if perhaps we shared any of the same professors?..Interesting.."    
    He drops this subtle clue from his own past, looking for any sparks of recognition in her face. But nothing seems to appear there that shows she knows of what he speaks, and so he continues on. Leaning forward, he taps the growing ash from his cigar into the gleaming ashtray that sits on the small table in front of them. As he leans back into his seat, he shifts his weight a bit, so that he is turned more towards her, closing more of the gap between their persons.
   "I must confess, Natasha, I originally came into your club for business purposes. That is, in fact the reason I was wanting to meet with the owner. But, I never imagined that it would lead me to meeting such a lovely, charming woman who could distract me so..."  

--Last edited by Cyrus R. Crewe on 2008-10-07 02:44:05 --

She watches him, not minding at all that he was closing proximity to her. She was about to speak When Tammy finally returns. She carefully sets the drink before Cyrus. There is a syrupy sweet smile on her glossy pink lips as she looks up Cyrus. Natasha raises a brow, a twinge of the green-eyed monster rising up in her...though her face does not show it. Instead, she hides it behind a pleasent smile.
"Thank you Tammy, that'll be all," she says almost curtly. This causes Tammy to blink, her cheek redden slightly...she appears as though she had been slapped. She bows her head lightly and exits through the swinging door in the back. Natasha looks to Cyrus.
"It seems that -you- are a distraction to my Tammy here. She seems quite smitten," she smirks wickedly, her lips curling back over white teeth. She clears her throat, taking a quick draw off her cigarette before roughly putting it out in the ash tray. She composes herself, perhapes if Tammy become too much of a probably, she'll send her over to Alessio...or, if she decides to have a midnight snakc. Who can tell?
Her sparkling brown orbs drift back to Cyrus, "I'm glad I could offer you a distraction. I would be lying if I said I have not equally enjoyed your company this evening. We could have had some of the same professors, but who knows. I'm delighted to hear that you are an alumni, seems we have quite a bit in common. I didn't study law, I studied arts and business. Speaking of business dearheart," she reaches out, tentatively clutching his cold, icy hand. She looks from his chilled hand to his face and smiles softly.
"You said you originally came here on business. What sort of business is that?"

  Cyrus leans forward, picking up the drink, watching amusedly as Natasha sends Tammy scurrying off flustered and confused. He raises the glass, sniffing at the aroma of the contents, more to hide the fact of his chuckling than to actually determine the quality. He's sure that it would be far better quality than he could expect at most bars...a much older vintage.
    "Me? A distraction?" he asks her, feigning innocence that quickly turns to a broad smile and a soft laugh. "It does seem to happen from time to time. But don't worry, my dear,...she's not my type. And besides..I have far better things in front of me." He grows serious with the last sentemce, locking his eyes onto hers. Things seem to have cross the boundries of simple flirting, but he does find her company most enjoyable, a kindred spirit.
    "But...Business before pleasure, though I seem to have broken that rule, haven't I", he says, looking at her delicate hand that grabbed ahold of his own. "You do make it rather difficult for me to focus on the business aspect.."
    "Well, as you know Natasha, I am rather new in town, but I do plan on staying in Sanfield for a long time...especially now. Now, I as specialized quite a bit into business law, I was rather successful in my endeavors in New York. And as it were, I was looking for investment and purchasing possiblities in Sanfield." He pauses for a moment drawing on the cigar, and following it with a delicate sip from his Scotch
    "I had originally set my eyes onto your club, as the jazz era holds a special place in my heart. But now, I think that I would rather not attempt as such, after meeting you, my dear, unless it were as an investing partner, by your request, of course. I would, however, like to consider you as a prime partner for future ventures, especially considering that I had considered opening a 'specialty' club here, similar to one that I frequented in New York, and you are definitely more knowledgable of the area and it's people than I!"
    Cyrus stops talking for a moment, giving his head a shake, a look of amazement upon his face. He lifts his head a touch, gazing upon Natasha.
     "I am a fool indeed, Natasha! Here I have beautiful woman sitting with me, taking me by the hand, and I ramble on about business."

Cats are territorial....as are kindred. Her smile fades for only the briefest moment as he spoke of buying her club. Then, he saves himself, explaining his change in mind. Her hand never leaves his, and her eyes do not waiver from his. She smiles again, bright and pleased.
"I had not concidered a business partner before," she admits. She leans forward, a finger delicately tracing his jawline. "Perhaps, once I get to know you better I will concider your propsal further."
He speaks of being a fool and Natahsa can't help but laugh.
"Yes, we can talk business later. We have fine drink and fine company," she picks up her cocktail, swirling the deep cerise liquid inside the shaker glass. The ice makes a melodic tinkling noise at it taps upon the glass. "I do hope you stay in Sanfield."
Her free hand slides over her end table, where the cigar box rests, touching a small red button. A few second later, Tammy comes in through the swinging door. She nods to Natasha and then smiles at Cryus.
"Hmm, would be bad form if I didn't offer you something to eat," Natasha smirks light, chuckling behind a sip of her cocktail. Tammy hands Cyrus a brown leather bound menu.
"Our selection is fairly seasonal, so it is a bit limited. But, I'm sure we can find you something that peeks your interest. Tammy dear, his order will be on the house tonight so bring him whatever he wishes."
Tammy nods her head in compliance.

  The smiles flickers from Natashas face, quick as the blink of an eye, and then it is there again, graceful and serene as she gazes on him. Cyrus notices that her hand never left it place, coiled around his own, even though he knows that it must be like holding a block of ice, draining the heat from her. That alone spoke much of her personality, but in what way, he had yet to determine.
    Her finger traces along his jawline as she speaks to him, a line of heat along his cold skin, tingling in it's wake. To most, her heat may not be too discernable, but to him, it's like basking in the warmth of the sun. And then it is gone as she leans back again, picking up her drink. The dark sanguinous liquid swirls about the glass, a vibrant crimson, as if filled with life.
   "Oh, I plan being on being in Sanfield for a very long time" he replies to her, smiling gently, as she reachces for the button on the table to summon the waitress. "And thank you again for such wonderful hospitality, Natasha."
   He looks away from her as Tammy enters the room, smiling at him after nodding to Natasha. He slips her a sly wink as she hands him the menu, hoping to set her cheeks aflame again. The offer for the dinner is most gracious, and he wonders if by chance Tammy is the main course. Of course, she is not to his preference. Close, but not quite. So, to keep up appearances, Cyrus opens the menu, making a point to read over several of the listed menu items. The dishes sound exquisite, and he wishes for a brief moment that he could sustain himself on more than vitae. But life, or unlife, goes on, and we with it.
  "Thank you Tammy", he says, closing the menu and handing it back to the waitress, " but I'll pass for moment." . It's a dismissal as much as it's a statement, not unkind in nature, but plain enough to not be mistaken.
   "I don't wish to offend, naturally, but the travel from New York to here has thrown my appetite off a bit."He turns to Natasha, giving a a slight shrug of the shoulders as he explains to her. "Perhaps I could persuade you to join me for dinner another night. I'm sure we could make it a memorable experience!"
   "This is an excellent Scotch, by the way, second only to the company. But I'm not sure that I've seen a cocktail quite the color of yours before...very exotic. Is it a house speciality?"

"My specialty drink," she states simply. "If you would like some, I can have Tammy bring you a glass."
Tammy's face is enblazed bright pink, her round apple cheeks are burning. She smiles faintly to Cyrus. Natasha raises a brow slightly, Tammy becoming the main course is becoming more and more appealing. Tammy avoids looking to Natasha, rumors fly about the kitchen area where Natasha is rare to enter. Horrible stories of their bosses vibrant temper and unpredictable mood swings. All this must be too much for Tammy, because her hands are begining to shake. Natasha notices this and smirks. Being a predator, she is more accutely tuned into the proverbial blood in the water. She can practically taste the weakness. She actually begins to laugh a touch.
"Tammy, you seem a bit under the weather. Why don't you take a break until your spirits are risen," she says through a dangerous smirk. Tammy nods, quickly walking toward the exit. Moment later, another waitress returns to replace Tammy for the time. This one has shoulder length dark brown hair, styled pin strip straight. Her face is round, almost cherub-like and her eyes are a subtle grey. She is attractive, with lightly tanned skin and a hair too much make-up.
"Ah, Rebbeca, I trust that Tammy is doing well?"
Natasha really doesn't care. All these waiters, bus boys, whatever can be replaced. They are all just parts in the machine that is her club.
"Yes ma'am," Rebbeca replies with a slight bow of her head. Rebbeca looks to Cyrus, raising a brow lightly. "Is there anything I can get you sir?"
Natasha turns her attention to Cyrus, having to pull away from his hand. One could only hold ice for so long.
"I would love to join you for dinner one night Cyrus. I believe that you and I are quite capable of painting this town red."
She sips her cocktail quickly, before setting it down again. Sounds from on stage can be heard, muffled through the egg carton sound proofing. The Rockin' Caskets are playing their rockability music, the crowd seems to be enjoying the show. Natasha motions to Rebbeca to hand her the remote that rests on a table far across the lounge. Rebbeca obliges her hostess without a single word, passing the remote to her. Natasha flicks on a moderately sized flat screen. Sounds does not assult them as the volume is already set to low. They could now see the show, live and from the comfort of their solitude. the show is an exciting one, with dancer girls on stage and the band mates dressed in period suits, finely pressed with matching fedoras. The suits themselves aren' flashy in style...but make up for it in bright colors. Lights and smoke are a flurry of stage effects, adding to the showmanship.
Her attention returns to Cyrus. She smiles to him, her fresh hand capturing his.
"Unfortunately, there are few good resturants in this town. Full of drive throughs and family dining expeditions...or ghetto food," she need not explain ghetto food. It's a typical chicken and waffles place or some hole in the wall chinese resturant run by mexicans. Basically the cheapest...not always usda choice food. The people that eat there are typically poor choice for a meal anyway. Often times the blood is diseased or polluted with copious amounts of drugs. The same can be said for food higher on the social chart. Fame has its price and many feeble minded fools can not handle the constant demand. They often drift to a life of drugs as a pathetic attempt at escapism. "But the affluent side of town here has a few good places."
She chuckles lightly, "I must be buzzed, I'm rambling."
She clears her throat, if she could blush...she would be.

Cyrus watches the scene play out with Tammy, knowing that it was coming from the moment she smiled at him. Of course, he knows that he really instigated the situation by flirting with her, but then again, it always was fun to play with the food, even if you didn't really intend to eat it. Perhaps it was a establishing the dominance on the food chain...The flushed and trembling girl quickly leaves the lounge, quickly replaced by a another waitress.
  "I would love to try one of these 'specialty' drinks of Ms. Milliner. That will be fine for now" he says, as she inquires to his needs. Cyrus is careful to keep his demeanor towards Rebbeca more neural, not inspring reactions similar to Tammys. Once is amusing. A second time might offend Natasha, and was therefor not worth the effort.
    Natasha's hand slides from his own, and he can only guess why. Holding onto his hand for as long she has must have drained the warmth straight from her hand. Her attention seems to be drawn briefly towards the large screen, viewing the teeming masses listening to the concert outside in the club. The flashing lights, bright colors, and loud music are beyond his taste, but it was wonderful for drawing in the herd, that was for certain. Just from viewing them through the monitor, he could see several fine meals dancing about, just begging to be drained.
   He looks back to Natasha as her other hand slides around his own, and she becomes focused upon him again, giving an opinion of the local dining scene. Of course, none of it sounds too appealing to his tastes, but that could always be discussed later.
   "No, my dear...you're not rambling at all. I enjoy listening to you," he says, smiling broadly at her admission. Cyrus slides his hand from hers and gently rest it upon her shoulder, icy fingers caressing the side of her neck ever so softly, leaning in close to her once more.
   "I agree completely, Natasha....We would paint the town red as it never had been before! But a nice quiet dinner for two was more along the lines of what I had in mind. More of a ...private affair! I'm sure I could arrange something wonderful for us..."  

--Last edited by Cyrus R. Crewe on 2008-10-12 05:58:01 --

"Cyrus dear, that sounds lovely," she smiles sweetly, leaning into his finger tips. She could feel chill of his flesh against her skin. She feels it seep into her body, spreading over her shoulder and into her bones. She doesn;t shudder, or brush his hand away.  Rebbeca leaves and comes back only moments later to bring him the same drink that Natasha was drinking. When he sips upon it, he will find it is a sweet yet, darkly potent mixture of dark sugary rum and a healthy dosage of vitae. A celery stick leaning against the side fo the glass disguises it as a bloody mary. The irony, metalic almost savory flavor is perfectly accentuated by the strong liquor. It is also visually appealing as the rum sits at top the denser liquid below.
Rebbeca stands back and nods to both Cyrus and Natasha.
"Will you be needing anything else tonight?'
"If so, I will call you," Natasha says to her with a dismissive flitter of her hand, her dark pools not leaving Cyrus. Rebbeca bows her head and leaves silently.
"So," Natasha breaks the brief silence. "when would you care to do this dinner?"