Open Mic Night

Bass Clef Club

Bass Clef is a fair sized Jazz club with the lighting dimmed so that the booths and tables along the back and side walls of the cafe area are slightly shadowed and more private. Eight booths line the bricked walls, four on each side of the club. To get up into the booths there is a single step so that they are not on the same level as the rest of the floor. The walls are decorated with posters from past and upcoming events and entertainers. Several cafe-style tables have been set up in the center of the club with two to four chairs surrounding each. Closer to the bar there are taller tables, being close to forty-four inches in height so that someone could stand next to it and rest their elbows upon them as they leaned in against them.

Across from the large wooden door that is the entrance, there is a very short stage comprised of black marble. In the center of the stage is a grand piano, and enough room for the remainder of the jazz-band to set up. The stage is normally lit up with a spotlight, making it the most illuminated area in the entire club.

Settled on the right wall is the bar. The lights around the bar don't seem to be as dim as those in the rest of the club, but the lighting is still very low in order to keep the atmosphere of the rest of the establishment. Behind the bar the wall is done up in aqua-colored tile before the shelving for the various types of beverages; including soda. A door behind the bar presumably leads to the kitchen and storage areas.

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A Saturday night at the Bass Clef is a fairly busy night. Especially since, as of 9pm, the place turns into something of a public jam session. And there are enough amateur jazz musicians around that the place is never short of performers. Some of them are even good!

Rachel leans lightly against the bar, a Perrier in hand, listening to the latest offerings with an educated, critical ear. A small, relaxed smile sits on her lips. Apparently the trio plunking about on the small stage right now are among the good lot. They may not be ready to quit their day jobs any time soon, but they're neither embarrassing themselves nor torturing the audience. So, the off-duty profiler actually feels like she can unwind some.

That's a treat, that is.


Chloe has been here a while, out for a 40's night with some of the girls from work. She loathes having female friends at times since their minds never shut up. It's always with the 'oh he's not a nice ass', and 'he's cute I should set him up with..' and the odd instance of jealousy and hatred for others in the 'group' so to speak.

It is an effort that is necessary, due to the fact that she's trying to see if any of the women at the office are leaking information to the tabloids. Thus far? Nothing.

Getting up for the umpteenth time to get a drink, the girl dressed in a sleek green '40's style dress with a faux-fur trim, and a black cap on her head makes her way through the establishment toward the bar. Noting Rachel, she offers a friendly nod and then places her order for a G&T.


Dr. David Trudeau has actually been in the 'Clef for some time, only his duties have kept him from lounging at the bar where, obviously, he'd have seen the somewhat familiar Rachel. It was not to be, however, as the doctor plays 'pit crew', that is, a hired back for the lugging of instruments. The current trio are from the Dallas CDC, all work friends, and 'don't quit your day job' is a given. Researchers by day, protecting the public health, and beatniks born of the wrong decade by night. Cards at the bar declare they're available for weddings, parties and bar mitzvahs.

Now that their set is almost over, David has more of an opportunity to hit the bar, ostensibly to order up beers for the performers when they finish, but heck.. he's going to go for one first because when the others are ready? There'll be no time for him to finish his. He knows the routine.

Wandering down the bar, David catches the familiar face of the FBI agent he'd spoken with at the Dallas PD, and waving a hand to set the request for a drink in motion, he continues down until he reaches her.. though not without noticing the blonde in the 40s retro. If I'd have known, I'd have brought out the skinny tie.

A nod is given to the properly dressed one of the bunch in the area before he turns a greeting to Rachel with a murmured 'good evening' before, "Dr. McKendrick.." He's getting the name right, right? "Evening."


Rachel's attention is brought to the 40s dame simply because of the outfit. She returns the friendly nod with one of her own, giving a light smile in return. Nice, is the thought in her head, approval of the costume. She's got a bit of a soft-spot for that era. Most of the jazz greats she loves had their roots then.

As David approaches, she turns her smile on him. "Dr. Trudeau," she greets in kind. "Long time no see."

Didn't they get past the formalities over coffee?

Still, she's mildly surprised to see him, really. And dressed far more casually — a roadie? Still, it suits him well enough. "I didn't know you were a jazz fan…"


Once she has her drink in hand, and money has been exchanged, Chloe whisks the cap off. Which reveals the blonde hair was really just a wig. Letting her red tresses uncurl from the bun she had them in, she breathes a sigh of relief. Wigs and hats? Way too warm. She'll yell at Mercy… Marcy? Whatever her name is, a little later.

"I don't think a skinny tie would suit," she mentions, just loud enough for the man near Rachel to hear her. Then to Rachel herself, "How have you been finding the city?"


They had gotten over the formalities, but a little time has passed, and David makes no assumptions. As such, he chuckles quietly and pushes the glasses up his nose. "David.. and I am, and I'm not. The three.." He nods in their direction even as they come to the middle of their song, "are from work. I'm just along because I had the extra car space and I offered to carry some of the equipment. But, ask me about the music, or anything else?" The doctor shakes his head, "Not a hope."

The comment made by the bl— no, convincing blonde, but redhead, shame to cover that with a blonde wig, David looks a little puzzled. Had he actually spoken aloud? He must have, or.. "No? I would think.." A touch disappointed, he looks down at where his tie usually falls and frowns briefly, though it doesn't really have any far-reaching echoes. David is obviously pretty laid back. "I'll remember that."


"Rachel," the profiler reminds the doctor, still smiling. This is hardly a place for formalities, anyway. She chuckles some at his explanation of his presence. "So, you know them?" She gestures with her bottle toward the stage. "They're not too bad." There's approval in her tone. "Their sound's a lot like a group I used to play with in university."

The New Yorker's head cants some, though, at the blond's transformation into a redhead. Her brows rise slightly. But, the expression passes fairly quickly. The green of that dress pops a lot more with the red hair, however. It's still a good look on the girl. Rachel would be jealous… except she's just not that kind.

She's got a good memory for faces, however. And she's sure she's seen the woman somewhere before… rShe gives the redhead a moment's study, slowly saying "I'm getting more familiar with it."

That's when she clues in to who the woman is: The fish girl! At the aquarium. Librarian.

A beat.

"How are you?"

Eyes narrow in thought briefly. An image flashes through her mind of Chloe standing off behind Mayor MacNab during one of his recent tv campaign appearances.

Maybe not a librarian…?


The fish girl? "I'm dealing with new coworkers," Chloe replies to Rachel, nodding her head to the gaggle of women dressed in vintage clothing. Beat. "Working for the mayor now though," she says, to confirm the suspicions. Something in her tone makes it seem as though she'd much, much rather be working at the library still.

The glass is lifted up a little and she sips at her drink through two tiny black straws, glancing over at her 'group' every so often. Trying to see how long she can be away from them before they wave her back over.

"Definitely not. A regular tie, or an open collar would suit you best." She grins a bit. "Sorry, presumptuous of me but it's the body type. You're not gangly enough to pull off a skinny tie well." Winking, she glances back to the table of coworkers. Somewhat listening to their inner chatter.


Inclining his head, David's in quiet agreement. Casual environs means a little more familiarity, and their discussions had remained on the friendly if not informative side. 'Rachel' was easy to adopt in conversation. "That's Carl, Joe and Vincent.. Carl is one of the system administrators for my department, Joe is an engineer, and Vincent.. one of my researchers." He chuckles, "They better not even consider quitting. They've got too much time in with the government to go now. Maybe on the side.."

David nods his thanks and pulls out his wallet when the amber liquid is served. Bills exchanged for goods and services, and taking the beer in one hand, his brows rise in askance, his tones taking something slightly amused. "Oh? You used to play? Jazz, then, I take it."

He hasn't yet made Chloe's acquaintance, however.. and after a second brief inspection of his chosen outfit of the evening, a pullover, fairly nice dark slacks, he chews briefly on the side of his mouth in consideration. The wink makes it just that much more.. okay. "Right.. so I guess it'll be out with the skinny tie…" Or not. If he could remember which box it is hiding since the move…

David has absolutely no compunction about extending a hand, the one without the beer, towards Chloe. "David Trudeau. And you are…?"


"Ah," Rachel says in response to Chloe. She takes another sip of her Perrier, chuckling softly. "Always fun, trying to settle in to a new place." She oughta know.

Fortunately, at least on a personal level, the cops at the downtown precinct have stopped skirting around her. And, professionally, since she's started working on their cases on their terms, they're beginning to warm. She doesn't expect her 'Fed' status, however, will ever entirely fade for them.

She's okay with that.

She glances past David to the guys on the stage as they begin wrapping up their set. "Oh, yeah," she chuckles. "I, uh, tickle the ivories occasionally." She sings, too. But she doesn't mention that.

She doesn't want to be bullied up onto the stage for the next round.


"You should go up and play," Chloe says to Rachel, chewing thoughtfully on one of the little black straws. There's no doubt that someone who used to play is much better than someone who wants to show off for a significant other, and can't play at all.

Eyes fall on David again, her head tilting to the side slightly. "Finally placed you," she says with amusement. "You're the guy that's been running the charity events. Ivan Fontane dragged me to one since his girlfriend wasn't feeling well." Switching her drink to the other hand, she shakes his gently. "Chloe Cornett."


At the admission, David's hint of a smile turns into a grin. He's not going to do that to her, mostly because he doesn't know her well enough. Sure, they've settled on first name basis, but to push and tease about something that she may not have kept up with to her satisfaction? Nah.. not that cruel. Or familiar.

Still, doesn't mean he can't inquire, amusement evident in his tones. "Occasionally? Is that 'occasionally' as in, 'when I actually have a little time to myself and I feel like it' or is that 'occasionally' as in 'I practice religiously but really don't want to say that because they're going to suggest I go onstage next'?"

Chloe's words bring David back around, and with a grasp, he nods. "Yes, that's me. Doing what we can, and honestly not doing too badly." The introduction concluded, there's nothing else to it. "Mayor's office then. Mr. Fontane. Hope you've been enjoying them. Any luck, there'll be more coming."


Rachel barks a telling laugh at David's question. "Let's just, ah, split the difference on that one, shall we?" she replies. In her mind, it's pretty clear that it's far closer to the latter than the former. She plays everyday. It centers and focuses her, and allows her to sort through everything she's seen throughout the day.

Not that unlike Sherlock Holmes and his violin, really.

And, once upon a time, she was pretty good on the stage. But, it's never been her first passion. So, she's disinclined to show off, now.

"Or call it 'both'," she concedes. She gives Chloe a wry smile. "I don't think I've had nearly enough to drink to make me want to go up on stage."

Of course, the fact she rarely drinks alcohol and never to excess makes it pretty darn likely she'll never be drunk enough, were that true.


"I do hope so. The event at the country club was astounding. You and Miss Savoy certainly know how to throw a party. I can't wait for the next auction." There was a painting at the dinner that she really wanted to procure for someone, so she's hoping that there will be another by the same artist that she can surprise him with.

Another sip of the gin and tonic is taken, and Chloe nods. "Please contact me at the Mayor's office for your next event. If Mr. McNaab is unavailable due to scheduling, I'm sure I can at least get a representative there for him." Such is the new job. Making the calls, scheduling the meetings, arranging dinner parties with VIPs. It shouldn't be a problem getting someone from the mayor's office to a charity event.

If she knew Rachel a little better, she'd playfully call the woman a chicken. Instead she finishes up her drink, and groans as the women at the table beckon her over. The glass is set upon the bar, and she turns to Rachel. "Please come and save me in about twenty minutes. I still owe you that coffee." The wig is left on the bar so Rachel will have an excuse to drop by and 'save' her from the catty women, and if she doesn't feel like helping? It can stay there anyhow.

"It was a pleasure to meet you in person, Dr. Trudeau."


As the band begins to wind down and the music ceases only to be followed by filler music, David realizes quickly that it'll be his cue to start 'working' once more. He takes a swallow of the beer, but there's absolutely no hope that he'll get to finish it before he's pressed back into service. "Okay.." The grin remains, however, easy on the doctor's face. "Which of course means that you've told me absolutely nothing. A.. 'yes' to the question 'which one is it'."

Turning to the departing Chloe, he inclines his head, "Pleasure is mine, Ms. Cornett. And I'll do that.. contact the office and try and get a representative. It's always good, and moreso with the election cycle." Though, truth be told, he's also reached out to Wright's campaign. The charity work isn't political, so..

"Your office will be hearing from me shortly, no doubt."

David smiles tightly and takes a theatric draw of air as he sees his colleagues. "Right.. time to go. Once more into the breach.. and, " he waves the beer still in hand and nowhere near finished, "I don't know why I bother."

And, he's off once again.. "Take care, Rachel."


Rachel waggles her brows impishly and flashes a grin at David, as he observes how she handily side-stepped the question. "Good luck," she calls after him, as he retreats.

She glances to Chloe in surprise, and then follows her gaze to the gaggle of 40s dames at the one table. A couple look like their well on their way to wasted. And well on their way to becoming cougars at sometime in the near or at least not-so-far future. She chuckles.

"I'll see what I can do," she tells Chloe as the librarian-cum-aide also retreats, leaving her alone at the bar once more.

Head tilting back, she downs the last of her sodawater and sets the bottle aside. The filler music isn't all that bad.

Maybe, a few weeks from now, she'll brave the open mic.

Tonight, however, is a good night just to watch.

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