Put It On The Tab

Absinthe is quite the hopping hotspot tonight: the bouncers are dutifully making sure no one cuts in line to enter the club, and look, there is quite a queue outside! One peek inside the club will explain it's popularity: the art nouveau decor, the rhythmic thumping of the modern music, the writhing bodies shaking and dancing to the tunes, where men, women and vampires alike come out to play - and look for even more. It is a place where booze, rock-and-roll, drugs, sex and blood mingle in a intoxicating whole, and this is a place where Lillian unerringly finds ever since she sets up shop in town. Shedding her professionalism for the evening, the brunette witch seems quite content leaning back against the bar itself, elbows resting on the counter and legs crossed, a glass of martini in hand while the lifted foot kicks idly, watching the crowd with keen interest.

It has been a long, stressful evening for Ivan Fontane. In between dealing with the always dangerous Sheriff of Dallas and an individual that has been clinically insane for at least a year, the man finds that a bit of personal time is in order. It's times like these that make him grateful for being so commonly overlooked on the Mayor's staff - no one gives him a second glance, among his peers. No one cares enough.

There is a languid smile found on the tall man's face as he cuts his way through the crowd, dressed quite exceptionally well - almost too well for the nature of the bar, with a long-sleeved button up shirt of a dark red and perfectly tailored black pants. Eventually, he muscles his way to the bar, lifting two fingers in order to summon the bartender. "Two shots of tequila, please. I need to unwind a bit. Put it on the Mayor's tab." Ivan speaks with the familiarity of someone who is welcome and a recent customer of Absinthe.

That would put him just one empty seat away from the lounging Lillian. The suit snags her attention for at least a moment, but when the man tosses out the bit about the Mayor's tab? Lillian quirks a brow and gives Ivan a more interested once over - similar, but not entirely the same way boys and girls check each other out like pieces of meat in clubs just like this. Her lips curl into a faint grin, but it's partially hidden when she lifts the glass to her lips for a sip. She waits for the man to look her way; and if he doesn't? It's a fortunate thing Lillian isn't the shy, demure type. "Hey." She greets, lifting her glass to indicate the man. "Aren't you a little overdressed for a place like this?"

Ivan doesn't have to wait exceptionally long. Before he knows it, two shot glasses are lined up before him, and he proceeds to roll his sleeves up to his elbows before grabbing the first and throwing it back. As his throat burns in that delicious sort of way, green eyes finally flicker over to the woman addressing him. Slowly, there is a rather smug, satisfied glint to be found in this strangers eyes. "Why, hello there." He drawls easily, a low rumble, barely audible over the thumping of the bar music.

The shot glass is lifted up in her direction, as though dedicating a toast in her honor before he drinks that one in succession. What follows is his leaning over in her direction. "Mhmm. How're you, stranger?"

With a playful tilt of her head, Lillian brings the glass to her lips after acknowledging the toast, though her hazel eyes never leave Ivan's. "I am just sitting over here, wondering to myself, who goes around putting their tallies on the mayor's tab." The glass it gently put down on the counter. "Annnd, someone who is very well-dressed. For success, I might add." She has a bit of a lyrical accent when she speaks, but not so noticeable as an Irish speaker. "So let me guess: you're the mayor's…. son? Personal assistant? Bodyguard?"

"Oh? Well. I'm just here, wondering to myself, who goes around listening to other people putting their tallies on the mayor's tab?" Ivan retorts with a wry, impish curl to the corners of his lips. His fingers begin to tap on the surface of the counter a bit impatiently, and he glances around the crowded dance floor, looking for something. "You're O for three now. I could tell you and end your misery - or I could keep this air of mystery and make you dance with me. So, what do you say, eh?" He extends his hand over to her, flashing her a toothy, boyish grin.

Even out clubbing, Lillian remains perceptive as ever. Following Ivan's gaze as he looks out at the dance floor, she tries to see exactly who he is searching for. "Hmm, dance." She muses, turning back when she fails to determine what he seeks. "At a club. Quite a concept." Gently she pushes the glass away, before lightly putting her hand in his as she rises to her feet. "I warn you though, I am wearing killer heels. If I step on your toes, it could be /painful/." Did the young woman just flash a wink? Oh the audacity!

Ivan is still searching, still looking for whatever it seems to be he is missing. However, Lillian proves to be an adequate substitute, for the man adopts a decidedly mischievous grin as he leads her off onto the dance floor. "Yeah, I think outside the box like that quite a bit. And, no worries. Am I at least going to get a first name to curse when I find my toes broken beneath your heels? I'm Ivan." The last name, apparently, need not be given in this situation. As soon as he has relocated them, positioning them in a less crowded corner of the dance floor, the man begins to move, subtly swaying with the hypnotic base of the music.

"Lillian," She returns, allowing Ivan to lead her to the part of the dance floor he chooses. She proves to be an attractive, if not professional dancer, swaying her hips and body in a graceful, sinuous manner that never quite degenerates into seductiveness. Although she maintains a smile on her lips, Lillian's mirthful eyes never leave Ivan's as they dance. As the music plays on, and she becomes more comfortable with her new dance partner, Lillian gently places both hands on his shoulders without stopping the rhythmic sway. "So, Ivan, what is your mysterious relation to the mayor?" She asks quietly, just loud enough to be heard above the music, but their proximity allows her to keep her voice fairly low. "You should tell me before your girlfriend shows up and steals you away."

Ivan offers Lillian a gracious sort of smile as he sways in time with the beat. He is in no way a particularly good dancer - at most, he can keep the beat - but he approaches the incident with such a carelessness and easy-going spirit that it isn't all that apparent. When her hands settle upon his shoulders, his eyebrows arch slightly, followed by a low chortle. "I suppose I can offer you that much, with the promise that this isn't information that spreads around." His hands run down the outside of her arms before settling upon the curve of her waist in a show of respect. "I work for him - an image consultant. He's a friend of mine. Ah - don't you worry any, though. I'm a free agent. I don't foresee any bitchy catfights in your future…at least not on my expense."

Lillian lets out a lilting chuckle at his promise. "I can scratch out another girl's eyes with my nails, if the circumstances call for it." Another wink, and a playful "Meow!", before a less facetious smile settles on her lips. "You are looking for /someone/. If not a girlfriend, then someone you are hoping will take the job." She inclines her head and flashes a cocky smirk at Ivan. "And I promise, my lips are sealed about /your/ job. That must keep you busy, huh? I heard the mayor's speech is stirring up quite a bit of controversy." So, this girl pays attention to recent events!

Ivan arches his brow slowly, deliberately, before letting out a snort of amusement. At both her claim and her astute observation. There is the briefest of pauses, followed by a decidedly bold tightening of his grip on her, jerking her in closer to his person. This way, he can sound much more devious when he murmured to her. "Why would I be looking for a girlfriend, exactly? I'm not quite sure one is conducive to my current lifestyle, if you know what I mean." And if she doesn't know, Ivan isn't willing to elaborate further. Not yet. "Mhmm. You saw that, did you? Well, what d'you think?"

Lillian's eyes widen only ever so slightly as she is pulled closer, but she's not the skittish or prudish type that gets into a hissy fit every time a guy gets playful. "If he's looking for controversy, I would say he's found it." An easy smile returns quickly to her lips as she looks directly into Ivan's eyes. "You know when two of my girlfriends want to see the same guy? I ought to know when to play dumb and avoid taking sides. Unless…." Her smile broadens in a very feline way. "…unless I know one of them is going to go overboard and make a fool of herself in front of everyone. THEN I'd pick sides." Tilting her head, she is obviously now playing dumb. "We /are/ talking about girlfriends, yes?"

"Mhmm?" Ivan comments, and after a moment of swaying and moving along with Lillian, he stops. Completely, he finds himself standing and peering at the woman with squinted eyes, a rather contemplative quality to his inspection of her. Then, as if he had never paused, period, he starts up once again with a faint laugh. "Yes, of course. Girlfriends. I have to admit, that's a rather prudent way to go about it. Wise." But then, the song dies out. And then, he releases her person, backing away slightly. "Now, I could stick around and we could chat, or I could leave now. Keep you interested in me if only for a little bit longer. And, I chose the latter, I think. It was nice meeting you, Lillian. I can't wait to meet you again." And with that, he's gone.

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