- Messages
- 42
- OOC First Name
- Beth
- Sexual Orientation
- Pansexual
- Age
- 3/2017
Neon lighting blazed from the windows of the street outside. The sky was dusted with heavy grey cloud, and the air was thick with the warm remnants of the summer just passed. A gentle, deep throbbing of bass-heavy club music thundered from underneath the pavement. A thick red rope, held up by metal poles, lined the pathway outside the club entrance, offering a place for the would-be punters to queue for their entrance checks of identification. Amongst these people, a male who seemed of greater maturity than his years, and a head higher than most, stood patiently in his smart-casual attire. It was only his second visit to the establishment, but one that he would remember for the rest of his life.
Reaching the front of the queue, Kaspar drew his ID from his inner jacket pocket, and handed it to the bouncer. The large man glanced over it, stamped Kaspar's hand with a small red symbol, returned his ID, and welcomed him inside. Passing through the decorated lobby, pacing down the row of steps into the heart of the club, the music grew louder and heavier in Kaspar's ears. His heart was racing at the thought of someone he knew being present. But, to his knowledge, nobody he knew would be in here. Nobody felt that way. Or so he thought.
The bar was lined with patrons taking a break from the heaving dance floor and strobing lights. Kaspar sighed a little as he ordered himself a cosmopolitan cocktail. He had always had a soft spot for the drink, though he was aware of the usual comments that were regularly attached. However, in this particular establishment he had no qualms about ordering the drink. All seemed to be going to plan; Kaspar received his drink, paid the bartender, pocketed his change, and turned his head to the side to note the man watching him from the other end of the bar. And his heart sunk to a thudding pulp. It was Krypta, the man who headed up the mafia he had recently allied himself with. And the look he was receiving.. Kaspar felt panic strike through his body like a thick bolt of lightning. His heart seemed to restart harder and faster than before, pumping adrenaline through his body. He could not work out the man's expression. Was it disappointment? Loathing? Had he followed him here to gain reason to 'remove' Kaspar from the mafia?
Krypta began to approach. Kaspar set down the hardly-sipped drink. The men stood beside one-another, staring into each other's faces, trying to read the other. And then the unexpected; Krypta smiled.
"You surprise me, Kaspar," he spoke loudly enough to be heard over the pounding bass, "I had you down as more of a gin and tonic man."
Kaspar continued to stare, his mouth opening a little to speak, but no words came out. Did this mean he was not in trouble? Did this mean Krypta was here, not to harm Kaspar as he had first thought true, but to simply enjoy himself? Did this also mean what Kaspar's racing mind began to conclude? So many questions, and such a long silence. Finally, Krypta stopped sipping at his own cocktail long enough to talk again.
"You seem anxious. Let us find somewhere a little more peaceful, yes?"
Kaspar's only response was to nod and follow. He cautiously paced after the man he labelled his boss, to a set of leather seats in a dimly lit corner. The music was a little more muffled here, to the point which a conversation could be held.
"So," Krypta began once more, "what brings you to this establishment in particular?"
WIP
Reaching the front of the queue, Kaspar drew his ID from his inner jacket pocket, and handed it to the bouncer. The large man glanced over it, stamped Kaspar's hand with a small red symbol, returned his ID, and welcomed him inside. Passing through the decorated lobby, pacing down the row of steps into the heart of the club, the music grew louder and heavier in Kaspar's ears. His heart was racing at the thought of someone he knew being present. But, to his knowledge, nobody he knew would be in here. Nobody felt that way. Or so he thought.
The bar was lined with patrons taking a break from the heaving dance floor and strobing lights. Kaspar sighed a little as he ordered himself a cosmopolitan cocktail. He had always had a soft spot for the drink, though he was aware of the usual comments that were regularly attached. However, in this particular establishment he had no qualms about ordering the drink. All seemed to be going to plan; Kaspar received his drink, paid the bartender, pocketed his change, and turned his head to the side to note the man watching him from the other end of the bar. And his heart sunk to a thudding pulp. It was Krypta, the man who headed up the mafia he had recently allied himself with. And the look he was receiving.. Kaspar felt panic strike through his body like a thick bolt of lightning. His heart seemed to restart harder and faster than before, pumping adrenaline through his body. He could not work out the man's expression. Was it disappointment? Loathing? Had he followed him here to gain reason to 'remove' Kaspar from the mafia?
Krypta began to approach. Kaspar set down the hardly-sipped drink. The men stood beside one-another, staring into each other's faces, trying to read the other. And then the unexpected; Krypta smiled.
"You surprise me, Kaspar," he spoke loudly enough to be heard over the pounding bass, "I had you down as more of a gin and tonic man."
Kaspar continued to stare, his mouth opening a little to speak, but no words came out. Did this mean he was not in trouble? Did this mean Krypta was here, not to harm Kaspar as he had first thought true, but to simply enjoy himself? Did this also mean what Kaspar's racing mind began to conclude? So many questions, and such a long silence. Finally, Krypta stopped sipping at his own cocktail long enough to talk again.
"You seem anxious. Let us find somewhere a little more peaceful, yes?"
Kaspar's only response was to nod and follow. He cautiously paced after the man he labelled his boss, to a set of leather seats in a dimly lit corner. The music was a little more muffled here, to the point which a conversation could be held.
"So," Krypta began once more, "what brings you to this establishment in particular?"
WIP