The Warehouse
A dark womb of black, and purple encompass The Warehouse nightclub. The room is a fair sized club area that has been built out of an old warehouse. Most of the club has been well-lit with neon tubing, but the lighting around the booths and back wall are shadowed to provide some modicum of privacy. Other than the dance area, the floor is a deep mauve, with light patterns displayed haphazardly on it. A ring of black light surrounds the ceiling, causing the lighter colors in both the club and on the patrons to fluoresce. A catwalk spreads over the dance floor, the black iron rails holding state-of-the-art varilights and floods which reflect off of the large disco ball that dangles from the ceiling, splashing the LED dance floor with light. The dance floor itself flashes and pulses to the beat of the music, continually changing colors in a neonic frenzy. On tall black step-platforms set out randomly throughout the dance floor are black dance cages, roomy enough for two people to bump and grind to the music in them. The bar matches the rest of the nightclub, tall and black with a strand of purple LED's running along the sides and the outer edges. The stools in front of it are white and chrome, reflecting the purple light that washes over the bar area. Behind the bar is a high-tech, mirrored drink area with glass shelving. Various libations, ranging from alcoholic beverages to fruit juices and sodas line the shelves. The music here is blisteringly loud, but startlingly clear. Heavy bass notes throb, speakers buzzing slightly when the volume reaches its peak.
Inside the club there's nothing but sweaty bodies and decidedly '80s/'90s goth/obscure music. The strains of You Made Me Realise by My Bloody Valentine come over the speakers. A mosh pit has gotten started somehow and those sweaty bodies add to one another's perspiration. The bouncers are on guard as ever, watching for scenes of actual violence. It's mostly aggressive bumping and grinding at this point though. Wit can be found at the bar, raking his fingers through his hair as he perspires. It would seem he just came from the aforementioned pit. His usual casual attire has been exchanged in favor of a ripped black Smiths t-shirt, leather pants, and shining black combat boots. Somewhere along the way, someone's stuck a gold star sticker on his forehead. There's pink and purple glitter on his face that seems to suggest he hasn't been entirely alone tonight. Rather than hitting up the alcohol this early on, he's nursing a bottle of water as he watches the others in the mosh pit, trying to catch his breath. "Whoo!"
Mellie has only just arrived, making use of her well-researched knowledge as to which bouncers will let her in and which ones won't to get her this far. She's already a few sheets to the wind, with just enough of a buzz to have her in a party mood, as she endeavours to forget about the shifter-shaped problem that keeps attacking her family. Still, a bit of a buzz isn't going to be enough to keep those dark thoughts at bay for long, so her first goal is the bar, and she begins pushing her way through the press of bodies, laughing and dancing along with them, until she can reach her destination. Then she begins her usual task of finding some guy to hit on to buy her drinks, trolling along the length of the bar until she reaches that familiar face. Sidling up to the bar behind him, she hooks an elbow on the surface, smirking with a casual lean, and then reaches forward to tap him on the shoulder.
When Wit is tapped and spins to see the tapper, he breaks out into a wide grin and reaches over to hug Mellie against him. "Oi! Young Mellie." He motions towards the bartender. "A drink for my lady friend here!" When the bartender gives him a skeptic look, Wit reaches into his pocket and tosses a crumpled fifty in his direction. "Don't give me that look. We have that disease, you know. Progeria! We just want to have fun before we die." Wit grins and winks at Mellie. "You're a vision in black, as ever. What have you been doing with yourself?" Scritchscritch at glitter. He makes no reference to the attacks, though it's debatable if Wit knows or remembers Mellie's last name.
Mellie laughs quietly as she's drawn into a hug. As reactions to seeing her go, that's certainly one of the better ones. She brushes a kiss against his cheek as she straightens up, making a tiny face at a bit of the glitter that rubs off, but not really complaining, even if glitter is really not her 'thing'. "Young Wit," she returns, before wiping the glitter off with a swipe of her sleeve, and then turning to give the bartender a sage nod, trying to go along with that story. "It's really sad, you know," she adds to the barkeep, before going on in the same breath to place her order. Turning back to Wit then, she gives a slight shrug of her shoulders. "Working, partying, same old, same old," she replies carelessly, not mentioning the attacks herself, though she has no excuse, really. "I guess I can see what you've been up to," she goes on a little more teasingly, nodding towards the glitter that's being scratched at.
He can't help but laugh at Mellie's quip about their 'disease' being sad, despite the fact that they both look like the teenagers they are… instead of tiny old wrinkled men and women. He lets out a sigh and nods to the bartender before turning back to Mellie. When Mellie starts to tease him about his glitter, he looks down at his fingers and laughs, bearing the remnants underneath his nails. "Oh. That. It was a business deal, okay? She gave me some, ahm, party favors and I gave her MY party favor." Wit waggles his brows at Mellie and then looks around the club again. The song has changed to remix of Borderline by Madonna now, and Wit sighs as he mops his brow. "I've missed you. You haven't met any other debonaire young rich men with good looks that are sweeping you off of your feet, have you? I might have to have a few words…"
Mellie rolls her eyes a little at his business dealings, though she's still grinning with some amusement at the whole thing, aided by the fact that their really poor subterfuge at having some rare aging disease seems to have worked - or the bartender decided it was better to keep the fifty and spare himself the headache of dealing with the pair of them. "I just hope you get paid overtime, doing all that business," she teases in reply as she leans back against the bar, waiting now for her drink. "No, I think it's safe to say you're the only one near to matching that description that I've run into lately. Though I might enjoy seeing you fight someone over me," she decides with a mischievous grin.
"I now feel I should be offended I wasn't given extra for my services," Wit says with a glum frown before he reaches out to wrap an arm around Mellie as he takes a drink of water. "Fighting someone over you? Is it fighting if I give him a few hundreds to hit the road?" Wit asks nonchalantly before he reaches up to absently wipe at his nose. He grins over at Mellie briefly. "So, how is the vampire love business going lately? Any 'fresh bites'?" He asks, laughing afterward as though he's made one of the most clever jokes. Wit seems to be in his usual good spirits — but then, they aren't talking about his family, and he may or may not have white residue underneath his nostrils.
"That's all right. I'm pretty good at being offended, so I'll do it for you," Mellie suggests with a grin, nudging him lightly as she steps in a little closer at the arm being wrapped around her. "I guess paying someone off over me is flattering too, though it lacks a certain something. Not quite as dramatic." And she does love creating drama. She rolls her eyes again at his terrible joke, though it doesn't do anything for dampening her mood. "Oh, there might be a few. Though you'd have to go looking to find them," she replies with a suggestive grin, apparently just in the mood to tease him. If she notices the white residue, she says nothing about it - not a stone she can cast, after all.
Wit quirks a brow as his eyes sweep up and down over her figure. "I'll have to give you a thorough inspection back at my office," he says, waggling his brows before he turns his eyes back to the dancefloor. The young man sucks in a deep breath and lets it out, his chest puffing before he finishes off his bottle of water and sets it down atop the bar. "People like to say music is the universal language, but anyone with a brain in their head knows it's actually money, you know? I've never met anyone who didn't like money, though shockingly enough, I've met people who didn't like music. I'm almost positive they were demons though. Who can't NOT like music? People without souls, I tell you…" Wit trails off there and leans in to peck Mellie's cheek a bit belatedly, returning hers from earlier. "You look great."
"Hmm. I guess we'll see about that," Mellie replies with an amused smirk to his brow-waggling. She turns to claim her drink once it arrives, then follows his gaze towards the dance floor, watching the people bust a move for a moment. Leaning in a little closer, she listens to his long and winding pontificating about the merits of music and money. "Why, thank you," she replies first to the compliment. "You're looking pretty good yourself." Then she turns her attention back to his initial points. "And yeah. I have to say, I like music, but I'd take money over it any day. Still, I don't know how someone could just not like music. There must be some music they like, even if it's that really bad stuff old people listen to. Or even pop." She makes a face at that idea.
"My mother doesn't like music. Says it gives her a headache and that it's awful racket. It does raise the question of what she in fact likes. You know how the Brits are always portrayed as stiff upper lipped people who get no enjoyment out of anything whatsoever in life?" Wit pauses. "I hate to admit it, but that's my mum. I think she likes tea. And that's about it…" The young man trails off with a dejected sigh, looking at Mellie for a moment while she studies the dance floor. "I once knew a dealer who didn't like music, but I think that had more to do with his severe hallucinations than actually not liking it. Aren't humans so gloriously fucked? You have to wonder what it would be like to read minds. But in a place like this, I would probably go bonkers myself having to listen to everyone…" Wit turns back to the bartend and orders himself a 7&7. From within his pocket, he withdraws a few small yellow tablets, looking over them rather carefully.
"Your mom sounds like a real downer," Mellie replies sympathetically. In the past, she'd have been quick to offer up some anecdotes of how her own family is no better, but tonight, it's still a little too raw to even pretend to complain about them. "At least you're on your own now, right? Don't have to put up with it so much." Instead, she tries the unfamiliar role of being the optimist in the conversation, trying to look on the bright side. "Yeah, humans are really fucked up," she agrees, as Wit again inadvertently ends up reminding her of her own family, as he speaks of telepaths and going crazy, all in the same thought. Not that she believes in such things. To help take her mind off of it all, she finds herself looking over to peer at the tablets curiously. "What's that?" she asks, sounding intrigued.
Without missing a beat, Wit replies: "It rhymes with sextasy and is a fortunate side effect." He takes his hand and gently opens Mellie's palm up, then puts one of the small yellow tablets into Mellie's hand. "It's small and yellow, but it's not Nuprin." Wit winks at his cohort before looking back over the dance floor. "With vampires and all, whose to say that aliens don't exist? Or werewolves? Or… those soulless demons I was talking about. Of course, if you only MET my mother, you'd believe too." Wit gives his shoulders a slight shrug. "Did I mention that I got into a college here? My parents aren't really thrilled that I chose to go to school in America, let alone to something other than an Ivy League school, but they can kiss my arse if I may be so blunt."
"Oh. Huh. Cool," Mellie replies with a touch of surprise at his generosity, looking down at the tablet in her hand, her eyebrows raised as she considers it for a beat, and then grins, closing her hand around it. "Thanks. Might be just what the doctor ordered anyway." It certainly can't hurt, at any rate, she figures. She was looking for a way to take her mind off, and here it is. Her grin falters slightly at the mention of werewolves and mothers. If she didn't know better, she'd think he were doing this on purpose. But she's determined not to think about it, so she forces the grin back in place. "Well, I believe in your mother, so I guess I do believe in soulless demons too," she replies, before quickly changing to the new topic. "You got in? Congratulations! You must actually be smart then, and not just a smart-ass. Still wanting to do law? I think you're crazy for wanting to do more school, but I guess some people have to be the educated ones."
"Atta girl. You're always supposed to keep your mind open to new experiences!" Not that Mellie distinctly said she'd never taken it before, but her questioning about the subject DOES give him a leg up with that little hunch. He reaches out to ruffle Mellie's hair playfully as he pops his own pill down the hatch, just in time to receive his drink. Wit takes a long few pulls of the 7&7 before putting the glass down. "Make no mistakes, I am equal parts smart and smart ass. I know, the prospect of more school isn't that inviting… BUT I like the idea of being able to throw the law back in the law's face. Or something. I hope never to say that I fought the law and the law one."
Mellie can't help but laugh at his praise. "I don't think being closed to new experiences has ever been my problem," she replies knowingly, neither confirming nor denying whether or not this one is a new experience. But while it's not her usual designer drug of choice, it goes down easily enough with a swig of her drink, and then she brings a hand up to idly straighten out her hair, ready for the good times to roll. "Yeah, I never ruled out smart-ass entirely, don't worry. I think I know you at least that well." She considers the matter of schooling in the law, before giving a nod. "Yeah, I guess if you have to go back, that's a good reason to do it. I'll just let you fight the law for me then, since there's no point us both suffering through school." Not that she has a shot at getting in, even.
Wit laughs at Mellie's last quip, grinning at her. "Are you going to be running afoul of the law soon, little giiiirl?" He asks, saying 'little girl' in his best lecherous German accent. He follows it up with a mock maniac laugh before downing the rest of his drink and setting the cup aside with an audible clink on the glass. "Have you seen Theo recently? I haven't seen him." He doesn't seem too concerned. After all, even though the guy has the threat level of a kitten in a basket of yarn, he HAS managed to survive thus far. "Law school should be a breeze, right? Might have to tone down the partying just a bit, but… all work and no play makes Witty a dull boy!" With that, he pumps his fist into the air and hops down from the bar as Closer by Nine Inch Nails starts to play. He offers his hand to Mellie and waggles his brows. "Honor me with a dance, m'lady?" Wit asks, batting his eyelashes at her. "I won't tell anyone how bad you are at dancing if you don't tell anyone how bad I am…"
"It's been awhile, so I'm probably due," Mellie replies with a shrug, laughing at his antics even as she rolls her eyes. It's hard to maintain her oh-so-cool and jaded exterior around someone as manic as Wit, though it's not for lack of trying sometimes. She takes another sip of her drink before giving her head a little shake. "No, I haven't seen him. He hasn't been into Mary's on my shifts, anyway." But that doesn't really mean much of anything either, and since Wit hardly sounds worried, she isn't inclined to concern herself unduly either. "I don't know about a breeze, but I guess we'll see just how smart you are, Witty. I'll try not to let you get too stuffy and boring though," she promises teasingly, quickly tossing back the rest of her drink before accepting his hand down from the bar. "Deal," she agrees with a grin. "Of course, we might have to kill the rest of the people in here so they can take our secret to the grave…"
"Hey, only I can call me Witty. You can call me Alex though, if you want. It is my actual first name anyway…" Wit moves out onto the dance floor with Mellie, trying to keep her in the least noisy bit of it so that they can still hear each other talk — with a bit of shouting. The subject of Theo is no longer pursued, though the fact that he hasn't been in on her shifts does have Wit's curiosity piqued. It's something he'll just need to look into when he's a little less altered. "I don't think we have to worry about any of the rest of these tossers. I mean, look at'm." Wit points towards a couple who are dancing rather horribly, though Wit is able to keep his body moving with the beat. Not coherently, perhaps, but it looks better than a certain infamous dance from a '90s sitcom. "Try not to get into any legal trouble tonight, I don't think I could keep a straight face for the coppers!"
"Alex," Mellie replies, filing that away for future reference. "Though I don't know. Witty has a certain ring to it…" She can't help but tease him a little, the button-pusher that she is, just to see what he might to to retaliate. Still, dancing takes more of her focus as he leads her out onto the floor. She's not terrible either, though not spectacularly talented for that matter. She can find the beat, and her style of dancing is about as suggestive as one might suspect from the teen. "Yeah, they are pretty lame. Hard to feel too self-conscious when everyone else is so boring," she notes in a loud, carrying voice, expanding on a general life theory rather than just their current dancing. To the matter of legal trouble, she gives a shrug. "I'll do what I can, but I'm not making any promises!"
Wit chuckles at Mellie's teasing about how Witty has a certain ring to it, rolling his eyes. "Then again, I am rather witty!" He concedes as he moves out to twirl Mellie about in a circle with surprising ease. At least, he doesn't drop her, if she'll let him spin her. "Anyway, I bet everyone in here is drunk or worse. They're not going to remember. And how could they even if they wanted to? We're just strangers in the niiight…" He trails off there, sparing Mellie the pain of his singing. He lets out a hiccup and stops dancing for a minute before he looks around the club and furrows his brows. "Well, she wasn't lying when she said it was good. How are you feeling?" Wit and Mellie are probably about the same weight, but drugs have a different effect on everyone. Given the sheer amount of drugs that Wit has done, it's a wonder it's hit him this fast.
"Yeah, you're very witty," Mellie agrees with a laugh, starting to feel considerably more easygoing, not that she was inclined to be uptight at the outset of the evening. But it comes more readily now as the dancing begins in earnest. She doesn't fight off the spinning, twirling freely before stepping in to catch her balance against him. "I don't know. I think we're pretty memorable. Still, I guess if you think we should spare them, we can let them live for tonight." When he stops dancing, she slows to give him a curious look, only really considering herself when he asks. "Gotta say: I'm feeling pretty good right now," she muses with a growing grin.
Did Wit have some ulterior motives when he gave Mellie the X? Perhaps, because he feels a lot more cuddly now. He draws Mellie near and snuggles up against her, promptly turning the next song to come over the speakers into a slow dance — though it's most assuredly not. "Why don't we take this party somewhere a little more private? Tripping out around a bunch of people you don't know can be a little disastrous. I wouldn't want you to have a bad one your first time around. The car is out front but we can get a taxi." Even while blazed, Wit is practical. At least this time. "You can have the guest bedroom — I got new sheets in there that'll feel like silk is caressing your whole body…"
While Mellie has been clear about preferring those without a pulse, right about now, any sort of person-shaped body is seeming a rather nice thing to be close to. And of the many person-shaped bodies around, Wit is certainly seeming the nicest, and not just because he's already getting cuddly with her. The feeling of pleasant euphoria has her quite agreeable, though she's really not worrying about practicalities or ulterior motives - though she doesn't tend to worry about those when sober either. "Okay," she agrees to his suggestion easily enough. "Mm, that does sound nice," she agrees, closing her eyes as he describes his sheets. For a moment, she's distracted by that thought, though won't be terribly hard to lead in the right direction.
