Despite the name of the Grisly Bar, it is mysteriously /not/ a gay bar. Having checked this information multiple times, Steve has gone from first-time visitor to semi-regular. At the moment, he's hunkered down over a Crown and Coke at the bar with his four-footed cane propped up beside his stool. He seems to be alone, and isn't bothering anyone else at the moment.
Daemon steps into the establishment. Even though his outfit is sort of a modern take on the village people, it's not clear whether he thought this was a gay bar or not. Not that it matters much far as he is concerned. Fresh meat is fresh meat whether it comes in a male or female package. He's an equal opportunity exploiter. The Wicked Witch saunters in and heads right up to the bar. He smiles at the bartender and orders a whiskey sour. He glances around as he waits for his drink, his gaze settling on Steve who is, as fate would have it, not far from him. Daemon nods politely.
Steve seems a little laggy in noticing that he's being greeted. But after a short space slips by, he lifts his chin in a calm sort of greeting. "Hey, wh't'sup?" he mumbles, picking up the glass of dark liquid in front of him and having a sip.
"Not much" the other man replies. The bartender places his whiskey down. Daemon grasps it and takes a slow sip, regarding Steve as it does. 'Checking him out' would be a more the more accurate terminology as that glance crawls slowly from Steve's face, down his body and back up again. When his eyes finally find the actor's face again, they pause there underneath an arched eyebrow. Classic body language that asks, 'hey, don't I know you from somewhere?' Steve must be so use to that.
Steve averts his eyes while this stranger looks him over, only slipping them back about the time that Daemon's done and looking at him with that questioning curiosity. "What?" Steve asks, brows knitting a little. He has another sip immediately.
Daemon smirks at Steve cause the expression is a bit too Rated R to pass as a simple smile. "Nothing. Just that you look familiar somehow. Which makes absolutely no sense as I'm new in town and have never been to Dallas before. Don't even know anyone here, yet." Daemon takes another sip of booze.
Steve lifts an eyebrow at Daemon's expression. "Well, I haven't been living in Dallas too long," he says, "I used to live in LA. Maybe we met out there." He doesn't sound too hopeful that Daemon will buy that. After a moment, he gives up: "I'm an actor too, so maybe you've seen something I've done."
The suggestion of LA just gets a shake of the head in reply. "Nope, never been to LA either." When Steve confesses to being an actor, Daemon gives him another lingering look. "Mainstream or porn?" The tone of his question is dead serious, though he has a mischievous look in his eye. His lip curls into an impish smile. Just what is this guy trying to suggest?
Steve almost chokes on his drink when that question is asked. He puts down the glass, coughing into the crook of his elbow for a while. Finally, the coughing subsides and he tries to recover his cool. "Uh. No. Mainstream," he says. "Mainstream. Like, like TV. Right?"
Daemon shrugs, the impish smile even more pronounced. "Ahh…", he remarks. "Just that I don't watch much TV or movies….cept…well…you know. So I assumed I'd seen you in one of them." Daemon takes a slow drink. "Ever consider it? Porn I mean. You'd make a killing. Well… unless you did straight porn. No money in that really, but you'd still be popular regardless."
Steve makes a face, dipping back into his drink before he answers. He's nearly finished it by now. "No," he repeats. "That's not really…something I'm interested in." He narrows his eyes thoughtfully, giving Daemon a look. "What are you a producer?" he asks. "One of those creeps from Nevada? I don't do porn, get it?"
Daemon waves a finger in difference. "One, not from Nevada and two, the only porn I 'produce' is of the homemade variety, if you catch my drift." Daemon takes another draught. "So what have I seen you in them, Mr. Mainstream?" His tone is mocking yet The Maleficent Mage smiles playfully.
Steve doesn't looks particularly comforted by that. In fact, the idea of this guy's homemade porn seems to gross him out. But he doesn't bother to get up and walk away. "I've done a bunch of stuff," he says. "I was on an episode of 'Friends.' I was on 'Law and Order' one time. I used to do a kids' show called 'Captain Sunshine…'"
The mention of Captain Sunshine almost causes Daemon to choke in laughter. "What? That kiddie show with the guy in tights?" Much to his credit, the Wicked Witch regains his composure quickly. "I remember it. That was a pretty neat show back in the day." Who is this guy fooling, like he'd watch Children's TV. Daemon drains the rest of his drink. Serious bud? I was just having a go at you. I pretty much recognized you immediately. Just wanted to get a rise out of you." Daemon puts a bit of emphasis on the word 'rise'. He's still sounding and acting all jovial and friendly, so maybe he's sincere about all of this. Then again….maybe not.
Steve looks up at the ceiling to maintain his patience, then looks back to Daemon. "Right," he says. "I get it. You got kids or something?" Because the people who watched his show and didn't have kids? Usually creeps! Or spandex enthusiasts. If those are separate groups.
Daemon shakes his head. "Nope. I'm not the 3.5, minivan type." Daemon looks down at himself to punctuate the point. "What about you, Captain? Any junior Sunbeams running about the place?" Before Steve can reply, Daemon is flagging down the bartender. "I'll have another whiskey and my pal will have another crown and coke. Thanks." The Wicked Witch turns back to the actor, the smirk on his face only widening as the other man irritation becomes more evident. Someone is enjoying this game of witty repartee for sure.
Steve catches himself before heaving a sigh, nodding wearily instead. "Right, of course not," he murmurs. "No, I don't have any kids, either. I've been pretty busy…" The subject of kids doesn't seem to agree with him much.
Daemon nods, at least seeming to listen to Steve's reply. He is watching the other man closely mind you even if it seems that whatever Steve says is in one ear and out the other. "So what new projects do you have on the horizon?"
Steve shrugs. As his drink arrives, he takes an aspirin or something from his pocket and downs it with the first sip. "Uh, I guess I want to be a news anchor, you know? Read the news? I think I'd be good at it."
Daemon nods at the barkeep when the next round arrives. He sips quietly as Steve talks about his career aspirations. If the setting were different, Captain Sunshine could well be having this conversation with his agent or a job interviewer instead of some kinky weirdo in a straight bar with a gay bar name. As Steve downs the pill, that gets an eyebrow arch out of Daemon but nothing more. "Yeah…I can definitely see you don't that. You're easy on the eyes, have a good voice and draw people's attention. News anchor would work for you." Was he just hitting on Steve? The other man must be used to getting a lot of attention from men and women alike.
Steve reaches up to scratch his stubble, then slowly heaves a sigh. "Look, let me just clear something up for you real quick. I don't want to offend you or whatever; I just want to save you some time, okay? Not gay, so if you're trying to hook me, you can cool it, right?" He gives an uncomfortable smile, then sips his drink. "So what do you do?"
Daemon doesn't look perturbed in the least by Steve's heterosexual assertion. "Lighten up pal. A, you’re an actor and B, you're drop dead gorgeous. I can't be the first guy to fawn over you? And anyways, I'm not looking to sleep with you. Like I said…I'm new in town so I'm just here to meet people. So I'm cool if you're cool." Daemon tips his glass in a cheers gesture to Steve. Let bygones be bygones and all that. "Me for work? I'm what you call a 'jack-of-all-trades'. Done a lot of different things in my time. Right now, I'm an explorer."
Steve shakes his head. "I don't have a problem; I just don't want you getting the wrong idea, right?" He glances over at Daemon. "It'd suck to get led on, right?" He has another sip of the drink then looks a little puzzled. "Explorer? Of what? Like, jungles and mountains and stuff?"
Daemon sips his drink. "Hot dude like you could lead me anywhere he wanted…" Daemon chuckles at that then throws in a hasty, "Sorry…old habits." He takes another sip of his booze. "Sorta like that" he answers to the question of exploring. "More like exploring life in general….people and places. Seeing what's out here in this big blue world of ours. Places to go and people to see…that sort of thing. Going where the wind blows me. Looking for adventure or whatever comes my way." This guy is like some cross between a classic rock retrospective and a tour book for the continental US.
Steve shrugs. "Don't worry about it," he says. "Long as you know what's up. I mean, come on, I've been acting since I was like sixteen. You think I've never hung out with gay guys before?" He gives a quick smile to make up for any rudeness. "So, uh, if you're ridin' the rails, like 1930s hobo-style and you don't smell, you must have a trust fund or something, right?"
"No…no trust fun. When I need cash, I earn it. Otherwise 'I have always depended on the kindness of strangers'." That last phrase is said with a passable southern drawl and coy smile. Daemon takes another sip. "If it wasn't already obvious, I'm not really the nine to five type. I prefer to live life…eclectically."
Steve laughs a little at that Tennessee Williams reference. "Guess so," he says. "Still, it's kind of a bitch to depend on other people to survive, right?" He smiles sloppily and has a swallow of the drink. "Guess you make it work, though."
"No different than working a regular job…." the Wicked Witch replies. "You depend on your company to give you the money to survive. This is just a lot more direct and a lot more real." Daemon finishes the rest of his drink. "Everyone is looking to connect with someone else. Call it what you will: love, sex, friendship, intimacy. We were made that way, to hook up with others. I'm just living that truth out loud instead of hiding and playing games. I meet you, you meet me. We connect on some level, we form a bond. We don't connect, we go our separate ways. It's as simple as that. The money thing is just incidental. I meet people who I can provide some good or service to; I get reimbursed for my effort. It's the purest form of commerce."
Steve looks a little curious, also a bit troubled by that description. "So, like…are you saying you're a hustler or what?" He seems to mean the question genuinely. "Not like I'm judging. Just like…you know. It's dangerous out there, when you're depending on those strangers."
The other man smiles enigmatically at that question, "No….no judgement at all. Let's just say that sex and money are not mutually exclusive terms for me." The glass is lifted to his lips slowly, a playful smile dancingly there before he sups the last of his drink. "I know there are a lot of … dangerous customers out there. I'm nothing if not careful." He puts the glass down. "But thanks for the concern." Daemon glances around, nothing how close others are to them. "Sounds like you've had some experience with those more dangerous 'strangers'."
Steve frowns, rubbing his jaw. "That's not what I said," he replies. "I never did that stuff; I've never been one of those. But like I told you, I used to live in LA and a lot of stupid stuff happens to people who come out there on their own and have to depend on other people to…to get by, you know? I definitely saw people get hurt. People who thought they were too smart to ever get in trouble," he says, pausing to drink the rest of what's in his glass.
Daemon shrugs. "LA is a pretty fast paced town, so that doesn't surprise me. But what's it like out here? I'd be stupid to assume that there weren't 'things tht go bump in the night' out here. Texas has a rep for being very pro…." He doesn't say the word 'vampire' but its obvious that what he's referring to. The Wicked Witch studies the actor closely.
Steve laughs darkly. "Buddy, I have met more vampire out here than ever before," he says. "They're all over the damn place, all open about it with their own bars and everything. I had to sit there at a table with one while he glugged back that True Blood stuff. Gross. They'll snap you up if you don't look out." There's something almost heavy about his tongue, though his words are intelligible, still. "So…so how do you take money for that?" he wonders. "Isn't that, like…the most awkward fucking thing in the world? Do you make receipts?"
Daemon shrugs. "A body can get use to anything they put their mind to…" That's about all that he says about the whole prostitution thing. "Is there some fang bar out here that I should avoid? I don't want to unwittingly walk into a vampire nest and get drained." Daemon shivers at the thought of that. Again, all his words and actions seem to be perfectly crafted to achieve the desired effect. But how much of it is genuine? "I haven't had much experience with vampires…pretty much leave them alone and hope they do the same. From what you said, I guess that won't be so easy out here."
"I'm not talking about the, uh…" Steve begins, but then shakes his head. "Oh, uh…yeah. It's called Mary's or something. I don't know why all the bars here have gay bar names. I mean, the one guy I met…he seems okay, in general, but it's a lot easier to get accidentally killed when you're getting bit than when you're getting—" He breaks off and clears his throat. He's already gotten in enough trouble in his life for swearing.
Daemon nods. "I hear you. Nuff said. Mary's whatever…got it. Will avoid it like the plague." Daemon slides his glass away. "I'm not sure how easy an 'accidental' killing is. In the end vampires, no matter how urbane or cultured' are monsters. I think they get caught up in the bloodlust and let themselves go. I mean, look at it this way. You may keep a chicken as a pet, walk it, feed it, or even play with it. But sooner or later it's going to wind up in the pot because that's just what the chicken human is." Daemon leaves the comparison there, should be obvious no?
Steve shrugs in response to that assertion. "I dunno," he says. "I don't really know any of those guys. I mean, like…where I come from, people aren't excited about a lot of kinds of people, you know? And like…I met some types of people that turned out to be pretty okay." He pauses. "But they didn't eat people. I mean…it's kinda hard to trust. And those people, those 'fangbangers?' I don't get that. How do you just sit there and let somebody hurt you? It sounds crazy to me."
"Back in my younger days, I worked as…well…what you'd call a guru probably. So let me assure you that there is a lot of craziness in the world. To quote the bard, 'there are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy'." Daemon touches the side of his nose in a knowing gesture. "Best advice I can give is keep your head low and keep on moving. In other words, don't make yourself a target." Daemon fixes Steve with a serious gaze as if to drive his point home.
Steve rolls a shoulder. "Whatever," he says. "I don't have much of anything to do with vampires. Old friend of mine is sorta…seein' one and it's like… I mean, I'm thinking, like, 'Is that smart?' She likes it and all, but…" He shakes his head. "And then…then she wants to get with /me/ or something. Who would fuck with a vampire's girlfriend??"
The Malicious Magic Man doesn't seem affected by that news about Steve's 'girlfriend' though internally he's making mental notes like nobody's business. "It's the whole bad boy thing. Guys like tall, dark and mysterious." Daemon gestures towards his own outfit again. "The vampire thing just takes that idea to its ultimate expression. I mean, who could be taller, darker and more mysterious? And really, repulsion and attraction are just a matter of perspective. Which way is the force flowing?" Daemon is really waxing philosophical; must be all the booze.
Steve shrugs. "Well, I mean, like…I've never been that dark or mysterious. I've always been just a regular guy. I don't care what girls like or what they want to do, but why get /me/ involved in this kinda stuff? I mean…its just /weird/. Maybe we have to live around vampires, but I don't have to share a girl with one."
When you get right down to it, life is full of many concurrent contradictions that should be mutually exclusive and yet somehow manage to coexist side by side without cancelling each other out. Like 'perception shapes reality' and 'appearances are deceiving'. That should mean then that reality is false which goes against the inherent nature of reality, that which is real. In any case, an illusionist knows how to deceive with appearances so that reality is shaped by what he causes his target to perceive. Boy that was a long winded way of saying that Daemon is just playing Steve. "Sounds like your friend is just confused. Maybe she's just caught up in the whole allure and can't find her way out. She needs help." The Witch is doing his best Dr. Phil impression sans accent, pot belly and bald spot.
Steve shrugs lightly. "I don't know," he says. "It's not my business, though. I'm not her keeper or whatever. I just know I'm not foolin' with it." He motions to the bartender for a new drink for them both. "Anyway…where do you come from, if not around here and not LA?"
"From the North East originally…." That's as about as specific as the sorcerer gets with regards to his origins. Never pays to real too much to the audience. Always keep them guessing. "We of course have vampires up that way but where I come from, they don't flaunt it like them seem to down here in the South. Maybe it's that old Puritan streak that's still pretty strong up that way, I dunno. I'm no social historian." Daemon takes a pause in the conversation, waiting for their drinks to come. He'll let Steve take another good sip before continuing on with the chat. "So this friend of yours…any idea why she's so hung up on this vampire? I mean, if she's showing interest in you, she can't be that close to him?"
Steve shrugs. "I've never been up there," he says about the Northeast. "I don't think I'd like the weather. 'Specially now." He grabs his drink as soon as it arrives and has a swig. "I don't know, I think she doesn't want to be with just one guy. And she said she liked getting bitten for certain reasons." He looks a little grossed-out by that, but shrugs again to show he doesn't care.
Daemon takes a sip of his drink as well. "Cold n' rainy and that's on the good days." He shrugs at that. Play to the stereotype and leave it at that. "Must have some deep seated issues to want to be a vampire's slurpee. Poor girl sounds messed up but good." Daemon takes another small sip and then pats Steve on the shoulder. "Not your fault, bud, and nothing you can really do about it. We all make our choices in life."
Steve frowns at his drink. "She's a really nice girl, you know? Like one of the nicest girls I ever met in Hollywood. She's just… A lot of bad stuff has gone one, I guess. For me, though… I mean, I know I can't do anything about it. Just be there for her, I guess. Agh…hold on…" He shits his position on the stool, reaching down to help reposition his right leg. "Ugh…" He grimaces.
Daemon gives a look of concern when Steve adjusts his position, obviously in some pain. "Not to pry, but hurt your leg or something?" He sounds concerned too. Probably that's as far as it goes though. "And yeah, I imagine a lot of bad stuff could drive the nicest girls into the arms of a vampire. It's a sad, sad world." Again, he seems sincere.
Steve looks down. "Yeah, I fell and busted it up a few months ago," he explains. "Healed kind of messed-up." He sips his drink, nodding slowly. His expression unguards enough to show that he believes what Daemon said to be true. "It…really is, I guess." Suddenly, he turns his head aside and laughs. "Man, listen to me, like a sad sack drunk."
Daemon punches Steve in the shoulder in a very 'good buddy' sort of way. "Don't sweat it, bud. You're just unloading. Sometimes you need to get with the guys and unload over a good cold beer or stiff drink." Daemon takes another sip and tries to act and sound more inebriated than he probably is. When in Rome, after all… "Man that sucks about your leg. Sorry to hear that. Just more crap to deal with. Sometimes it never ends."
"Right?" Steve agrees, bobbing his head. He turns to look Daemon over. "You seem like a good guy," he points out. Then he sticks out a hand. "My name's Steve. So you gotta tell me yours first, then you gotta tell me, honestly, how come you saw my show."
Daemon grasps Steve's hand firmly and gives a very solid manly shake. "Good to meet you Steve. I'm Daemon." The Witch raises his glass to the actor. "And you are definitely good peeps." He then takes a healthy swig. "Your show? Caught it on tv once…just tuned in for laughs. But it was really good. So I caught a few episodes." Hmm….sounds plausible.
Steve gives Daemon's hand a warm shake then lets it go. He nods, picking up his drink, but then starts to look suspicious. "You thought it was good?" he asks, apparently not used to that sort of comment. "Like…why?"
Daemon chuckles at the question. "Dude…we promised to be cool didn't we? All I'll say is look in a mirror sometime." The Wicked Witch sups from his cup again, barely holding back another laugh. "Plus the whole 'fight evil' side of things? I can get behind that. Hell…we all know there's a lot more evil to fight out there than any of us really cared to notice until recently." Daemon holds up his glass for a cheers on that one.
Steve laughs and shakes his head, looking away. "So you're into, like, fighting evil and whatever?" He lifts his glass. Because how can you not toast fighting evil? "Anyway, I don't know. I tried to do a good job in the show and…" He shrugs. "Sorry, I keep rambling, I guess. You talk about you so I won't tangent it up."
Daemon shrugs and looks a bit lost for words. "Not much to tell really? Spent the most of my life going from job to job, not really able to find myself. Then a couple of years ago, met some people who really helped me discover a side of myself that I guess I was always aware of but afraid to face. And so now I'm on this quest to cross the country, experience life and met people. A journey of growth and self-discovery…if you can call it that." Daemon chuckles holding up his glass. "That sounds like the plot of some badly written novel." He sips his drink.
Steve laughs, appreciating that admission. "Well, I mean…I don't know how you'll like Dallas," he says, "But if you feel like moving on, there are people in LA I could introduce you to. I mean…they're all done with me since I got busted up and stuff, but I could still help you out, probably."
"That's might generous of you Steve, my man." Daemon clinks his glass against yours. "Haven't been in town a week yet, so it'll be some time before I'm moving on. But LA is on my list, so when the time comes, I'll let you know." The Wizard nods to the actor. "So what are you doing with yourself? I know you wanna do the news and stuff, but what until then?"
"LA's cool," Steve says. "If you're careful." He shrugs when asked about his plans. "My friend put me in touch with her agent, so…I'm doing a couple of local commercials and stuff in the meantime. I might sort of…have to wait tables in the meantime to make ends meet, I guess. Or whatever." A little worry crosses his face before he takes a drink.
"You have to be careful regardless of where you are," Daemon replies. "But some places warrant more caution than others." He touches the side of his nose again in one of those gangster-esque type jesters. What he really means by it is anyone's guess. "Eh….something will come up for you soon, my friend. Like I said, you've got talent and the look. The doors will open up for you quickly. You're too big for a town like this and so that's why it's taken this long to find stuff worth your while." Daemon smiles sincerely. 'Oh what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive'.
Steve chews a little on his lower lip. "Well, it's just…they didn't really have a place for me out in LA, so…I came back here. But there's only so much I can do with the bad leg and all that. Actor-wise. So…"
Daemon nods understandingly. "Yeah, yeah…I get you. Kinda limits your options." He nods again to emphasize the point. "Still….you have it. So all you need is for someone to recognize that. Which they will." Daemon nods yet again.
Steve puts his hands up and shrugs. "I don't know. I don't know if I do or ever did. I don't think anyone ever really did recognize it even if I do," he points out, swallowing some more booze. "But I'm monologuing again."
Daemon shrugs. "Isn't that what actors do? Make big, long speeches? At least they do in Shakespeare." He chuckles again. "Like I said before, it's all good, man. I'm here if ya need to vent. Don't mind playing the part of arm chair psychologist if that's what you need."
"Yeah," Steve says. "But nobody puts me in Shakespeare, man." He laughs, shaking his head. "No, it's cool," he says. "I'm not screwed up. Just gotta figure stuff out and get work. It'll happen."
Daemon nods. "I hear you, man. Like I said….it'll come." Daemon reaches into his pocket and pulls out a few dollar bills which he throws down. It appears to be enough to pay for the drinks but as we've established before, looks can be deceiving. "Look dude, just relax and enjoy the ride. Best advice I can give ya." Daemon gets a cocktail napkin and scribbles something on it. "You're like the second person I've really met in town. Gimme a shout if you need a wing man or something." The napkin has the name of the hotel and phone number Daemon can be reached at. "Hate to leave, my friend, but I have 'mutual exchange of gifts and services' with a lady I met the other night." He gives the actor one of those looks that suggests he's talking about something naughty like sex. Which he is. That being said, the Wicked Witch leaves for his rendez-vous.
