Lounge Concert
Lounge Concert
Summary: Corinne sings a jazz concert at Spotlights.
Date: 78 ACH
Related Logs: What the Crowd Wants

Spotlights Carina - Pyr Hotel
78 ACH 23817 Souls

In the sea of sports, there is a small island of non sports related propaganda. That is Spotlights. Hearkening back to bygone days of flatscreen projected images as entertainment, Spotlights is a dim place, the intimate tables never holding more than four people. The low lighting is broken from time to time by its namesake, occasionally a cone of light sweeping slowly through the area, though the effect on the air, laden with a harmless mist generator is more of the beam of the light visible than shining harshly on anyone. The air is quiet, with the occasional lone piano music heard drifting through the air. The bar is polished glass and chrome, catching and reflecting the light when the two meet, otherwise the subdued offset lights give the place a sensual glow. One wall holds a low curtained stage, which at times draws back, and the spotlights fade, and a classic film plays at scheduled times. The bar serves drinks and food, though the emphasis is on the drinks, and the food is limited. All the glassware is sparkling clean and of crystal. Martini glasses, whiskey tumblers, daiquiri glasses and Brandy Snifters, Spotlights has it all.

Spotlights is busy tonight and getting busier with each passing minute. The lighting's been adjusted, the hues changed to bring more to mind the sultriness of a jazz club rather than the modern thrum of a bar. A stage area has been cleared on a slight rise, a grand piano sitting out under a gentle blue light. A sax and drum set also sit in front of the lush curtain, waiting for their masters to finish their pre-show drinks backstage. Tables have been set up to give optimal view of the music, with fresh cloths that match the colour scheme of the night's lighting.

Tychon comes in from Hotel Entrance.
Tychon has arrived.

Evan strides into the bar proper in the middle of tucking hair behind her ear. She looks around for a moment, head canted to the side, then finds herself a quiet table in the corner, one with a good view of the stage area.

Timon makes his way into Spotlights, shaved and in reasonably non-filthy clothes. With a bathrobe over them. So he's not exactly in proper clubbing attire. He does, however, look very comfortable. He bellies straight up to the bar, to sniff out a drink for himself.

Ramiro arrives alone. Stepping into Spotlights, he takes a look around. While not dressed very fashionably, he looks rather clean and well taken care of. Looking over the tables visible, he moves to seat himself at one near the center. Speaking with a waitress, he orders a drink and then sits back, eyes gazing over the stage.

And the musicians have finished their pre-show rituals - for the most part. The pianist is out first: an elegant older man wearing a black suit, black shirt, and white tie. The drummer is next, a sprightly young woman with a pixie-cut hairstyle, wearing a simple black blouse and a black pair of pants, a white carnation tucked behind her ear. The sax player's arrival is a bit more of a hullabaloo. He stumbles a little at first, martini in hand, and he doesn't seem to have remembered his white piece of flair, but Liz the drummer was prepared for this. She tosses a carnation at him, much like the one she has in her hair, and he fumbles around, pinning it to his black lapel. The singer has yet to arrive, so the ensemble begins a quiet soundcheck.

Nicholas has been hanging about by the bar. Not drinking, just watching the club fill up, taking note of how many are in military clothing and how many not. Good to know one's patronage demographics. The man coming up to the bar in a bathrobe pulls a half-smile, half-smirk onto his face, definitely a bit amused.

Astyoche comes in from Hotel Entrance.
Astyoche has arrived.

Its a nice way to end a restful day or two of leave, a few drinks and a show. Tychon saunters his way in, solo, taking a moment to check things out, before proceeding fairly promptly to the bar. He eyes the stage in passing, watching the act set up.

Evan's attention is, for the moment, on the sax player. She seems, well, utterly amused by the goings on. Ankles are crossed delicately and slid beneath her seat as she leans forward, elbow on the table, chin cradled in her hand.

Ramiro's drink comes to his empty table, a glass of dark liquor in ice is given to him, which he puts some cubits on the server's tray and mutters something quietly to her. Looking a little drained, he takes a sip of the drink before letting himself get comfortable.

Timon notices Nicholas smirking at him. He smirks back. "I assumed the dress code required a jacket," he says with a shrug. "Bartender. Give me a…frak. Whatever wine you have left fermenting down there. Preferably something /not/ from a box, but I've given up looking for the top-shelf vintages." He also gets a laugh out of the sax player's antics. A loud, boisterous one. "Perhaps I should just order whatever that lad is drinking. Looks like it does wonders."

Eve comes in from Hotel Entrance.
Eve has arrived.

Nicholas seems the give the sax player a bit of the stink eye. Mental note, take the bottle away. He looks back at Timon as the older man speaks, and flashes him a grin. "Good thing we didn't require tie. You might not have survived your own fashion sense." He twists slightly, looking at the bartender. "Chris, go on and get the Chantun out. See if our guest here can appreciate it." He rests an elbow on the bar and looks around again, noting Tychon coming this way. "Mr. Armedes, escaped the military again? Glad your leash isn't as short as the rumours say."

Serge, the sax player, should likely be paying heed to the soundcheck. But there's a tall, beautiful woman looking at him and whether her attention is derived of amusement seems of little concern to him. He winks at her, a little lasciviously, then is promptly nudged out of his flirtation by a very well-placed drumstick. He jumps, clears his throat, and sets down his martini glass, reaching for the sax. Soundcheck continues uninterrupted until the stage lights go down and all becomes quiet.

The rhythmic clicking of heels stepping along the wooden floor soon follows, and Corinne makes her way into the blue light near the piano, wireless microphone in hand. She smiles at the audience. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," she intones, her voice husky, mature, and utterly exquisite. And she hasn't even started singing.

Stepping in after some scuttle on the Tracer about a concert here, Astyoche makes her way, freshly preened, to partake of the festivities a while. She looks around from behind her bangs, keeping her chin down some to avoid too much recognition.

The Lioness simply smiles and lowers her eyes as the sax player is so nudged. There's something delicate, ladylike about the expression on her face - as if someone, somewhere, taught her something. But then Corinne appears and pulls Evan's attention. The smile changes slightly, the regard becoming a touch more intent as she studies the older woman. One Lioness sizing another up or sizing up a potential sick gazelle? Or is Evan simply looking forward to the music? It's hard to tell.

"Worry not, lad. I don't think I brought a tie," Timon replies to Nicholas. He grins when the Chantun is mentioned. "Didn't think there was any of that left in the universe. You work here, then? I don't get to the clubs that often. Seems a lot of effort to go through just to drink yourself into a stupor." He turns toward Corinne when she emerges, faint smile coming to his face. "Tonight, however, I made an exception."

"Still out," Tychon answers, offhandedly, although he does nod something of a friendly greeting to Nicholas. "You guys were pretty much my first stop when I got off. My freedom dwindles as we speak - then it's back to fragging toasters." Its not a bad way to spend his last moments of freedom, all things considered. "Nice crowd." As Corinne makes her way onto stage, he turns his attention to the star performer, giving her all due attention.

Eve steps in the door of the Spotlights, immediately stepping to the side. She gives a jangle of her wrist until a watch shakes out of the sleeve of her sweater. Her eyes narrow in the dim light, trying to read the face of it and the numbers, quietly cursing her lack of reading glasses. She steps towards the bar, trying to shed a bit more light on her circumstances.

A spatter of applause goes through the audience from those who recognise the singer who's come out. It's quite enthusiastic. Nicholas watches Corinne a few moments and then tilts his head back towards Timon. He smiles. "I'd say I work 'for here' rather than 'here'. A man who knows his Chantun, I can appreciate that. You let me know if you have a taste for anything else, hm?" His eyes flicker to Tychon again. "Yes, excellent crowd. They won't be disappointed." He sets an elbow on the bar and folds his hands, his light eyes taking a sweep of the room and the faces. Ramiro, Astyoche, Eve. Then back to the stage.

Ramiro sips his drink and sets it down. He's in no race and there's no fire to put out apparently. As Corinne introduces herself, he looks in her direction and smiles. He's never heard of her, but he's been told that it should be a great show. First concert since the holocaust. No pressure. Turning on his hip in his chair to watch the stage, he applauds with the crowd.

Timon is one of those applauding. More for the dress, and the way the singer wears it, than for any anticipation for the music. He chuckles to Nicholas, not taking his eyes off Corinne. "I have a taste for just about everything, my young friend. The trouble is finding anything worth tasting these days." He glances briefly over at Eve, eyeing her as she eyes her watch. "You're at a party, my dear girl. Wrong place to be concerned with the time." He drinks deeply of his wine, to get in the partying mood.

Evan applauds - after a moment or two. It's simple and polite, then the woman is pulling her eyes away from the singer and glancing at the crowd. Not one, but TWO men sitting alone. Ramiro seems to catch the Lioness' eye.

"How is everyone this evening?" Corinne asks, one arm stretching over the rim of the grand piano's curved soundboard. "Enjoying the simulated weather?" She smirks, one dark, sculpted brow lofting at a subtle angle. With a slide of her gaze towards Ronnie the pianist and a barely perceptible nod, the music begins. Slow to start, the tones are meloncholy as minor chords tend to be, but the gentle crescendo of cymbal picks things up a bit and Corinne launches into the imploring opening lyrics of 'Delphi Nights.'

"…the rain, it never stopped
Like I never stopped loving you…"

A strange way for a song to begin, but that's what makes it a classic. Corinne continues singing, meeting the gazes of several audience members - notably, Timon, for how could she miss him? His getup almost cracks that controlled plaintive mask she put on for the song, but beyond the faintest twitch of her lips, she manages to keep it together.

Eve glances up as people start to clap, and she adds her own merely out of politeness. Wait. Someone is addressing /her/? Eve glances over to Timon, quirking a smile on lips that likely haven't been painted in years. She doesn't even compare to the lady of the hour, or the Lioness prowling nearby. "I'd need a few more drinks in me before I could lose myself of the hour. Please, what does it say?" She asks, holding her wrist out for Timon, keeping her voice low so as to not interrupt the singer or the general atmosphere.

Ramiro's back is to Evan, as he's seated near the middle. Taking another sip from the dark liquor in his tumbler, he sets it down and leans one forearm on the table. Running a hand through his hair, he rests back in his chair to watch the show with a quiet look on his face.

Astyoche offers a polite round of applause, tossing her head a bit to get her hair out of her face now that the light's a little better for remaining relatively anonymous as she lounges near the back. Her arms fold loosely, a thoughtful look in her eye as the music starts, taking it in, and memories of times before.

"Maybe you're looking a little too hard," Nicholas comments to Timon, with a smile. He keeps his voice down as Corinne starts to sing, a bartender setting some drink down by his elbow that he only half-notices. His light gray eyes turn from Corinne to Eve as the woman asks Timon to tell her the time, and he laughs under his breath. "Oh my goodness. It's time to enjoy the music, miss."

Timon smirks rakishly at Corinne when he catches her eye, twirling the belt of his bathrobe at her. He dresses to impress. It takes him a moment to get his attention back on Eve. But, turning toward her means turning toward his drink, so he gets around to it. He looks at her watch and answers flippantly, "Tea time Tauron. Sit down. Enjoy the show. We're all just pretending we have somewhere else to be, anyhow."

The music continues, and Corinne leads the way through the rest of the jazz classic expertly. She warbles when necessary, croons when appropriate, and by the ending line, "Call me when the sun comes out again," she is leaning forward over the lip of the stage, her chest heaving and her expression pleading. The music fades out, but she holds that pose for a moment longer.

Eve opens her mouth in protest at both the answers she's given from Timon and Nicholas. But merely gives a, "Well. Bother." She squints one more time at her watch in this horrid lighting, but apparently gives up after another moment longer and finally just leans against a bar stool with a soft sigh. Duck out of water, it seems. Oh right. Time to clap again.

Nicholas begins to clap along with the audience, the sound from his hands quiet and lost in the rest of the appreciative noise. One of the bartenders emerges from where they keep the secret-secret stash and sets a glass of wine down by Timon, before moving to Eve and asking if she would like anything. Through the audience, servers take the quick minute to thread through the chairs, making sure orders are taken and patrons are happy.

Astyoche gives another soft round of applause, smiling a little distantly after the performance before returning her arms for their loosely folded posture. As the server starts making the rounds, she edges back against the wall to keep out of his way.

Timon drinks deeper and deeper into his wine glass as the song goes on. He's finished before the last note fades. "Another, if you please," he says, pushing his glass back toward the bartender, not taking his eyes off the songstress. Clap he does.

Corinne turns on her heel and strides saucily back towards the piano, where a jauntier tune begins. The rat-a-tat-tat of the drums soon kicks in, and Corinne turns around to, quite literally, jump into the opening lines of 'Boiler Room.'

"I've heard that you're a catch, baby;
I know a secret hatch, baby
Where I'll show you my… patch, baby
The ones they give us in the Navy."

A suggestive little ditty indeed, chock full of lead-ins that end up being a little more innocent than they originally seemed. It's clear that this one is a personal favorite of the singer's, the way her eyes twinkle as she sings it.

Ramiro claps loudly along with the rest of the crowd, resisting the urge to whistle a little bit. Despite relaxing, he's definitely straight backed, sitting like a military man would. Smiling quietly towards the stage, sitting by himself, he glances his eyes across the stage to land on Corinne, giving her a smile before he stops clapping. He manages to stop before the next song begins.

Evan seems content to watch the slightly in-profile Ramiro, and his back for a time, then turns back toward Corinne as she goes into the ditties. Yep, she can clearly relate. The applause is a little easier this time.

The bartender picks up Timon's wineglass and casts a look at Nicholas, who lifts his chin slightly towards the back of the bar. The tender gives a tiny salute and vanishes off to refill Timon's glass. It's going to be a long night for the Chantun. Nicholas sips from his own glass, which holds clear liquid, and looks back at the stage as Corinne continues. A grin spreads across his face.

Eve merely mutters a request for some juice when someone in the service capacity is near enough to take the order. She seems to forceably be trying to make herself relax, including a shoulder roll to loosen her muscles. At least she's smiling with the new upbeat song.

Timon starts in on the second glass the moment it's delivered. He's trying to drain Nicholas' precious Chantun personally, from the look of him. The lines of the next song get a wicked little chuckle from him. He likes this one.

Corinne locks gazes with Ramiro for the tail end of that particular song, and she sings these lyrics right to him:

"Who cares if the boiler's broke,
We'll make it hot, we'll make it smoke,
Just you and me inside that room,
Come board my ship and sail me home."

The sax player adds his own trilling solo, and then the song is done. Corinne winks at Ramiro and tips her chin to him, then strides back to check the setlist next to Ronnie. For the next one, she leans luxuriously up against the smooth black wood of the piano.

Two of the servers, off to the side, are whispering to each other as the upbeat tempo starts. One a young man and the other a female who looks like she might still be a teenager, they reach for each other's hands and get into a playful swing-dancing position, rocking back and forth on their feet in time to the music until the beat ends, and they they separate and clap fondly.

Ramiro blushes as the words are sung in his direction, and as the song ends, he smiles back at Corinne and gives her a sly nod before turning to sip his drink. Letting his facial expression slow a bit, he lets out an invisible sigh before sipping his drink. Glancing over his table, he sets his glass down and applauds with the rest of the crowd.

The Lioness has, apparently, spotted her prey. With a decided delicacy, she rolls to her feet, taking her drink with her, and makes her way over toward Ramiro's table. One hand settles on the back of a free chair before she looks down to him, head tilting to the side. "Popular singer," she murmurs quietly. "Is this seat taken?"

Astyoche watches the singer make her case to the fellow she has her attention directed toward and gets a little bit of a grin to her lips, which turns into a quiet chuckle as it seems the siren's put tone on the man for another woman entirely. She moves as unobtrusively as she can toward the bar, making quiet pardons as she inevitibly has to cross someone's field of view.

Nicholas smirks at the interaction between Corinne and Ramiro, then his eyes briefly follow Evan as the Lioness begins to prowl. He picks up his glass and drinks a swallow of what's in there - is that gin, or water? In this darkness it's impossible to tell. The bartender smiles at Eve and pours her own some juice, real juice, not powdered stuff. The bar is apparently in Fancy Mode for one of the Songbird's performance nights. The tender slides the glass to Eve and slides down towards the approaching Astyoche, inquiring if she'd like something.

Timon lights up a cigarette as that song ends. They're cheap cigarettes, but he smokes luxuriously, as if he was sucking on a fine Caprican cigar. He sets it between his teeth, puffing, so he can applaud that diddy with full force.

Ramiro looks to Evan for a moment, considering. It's not an offensive look, but almost more a look of trying to get his brain to boot up. Taking a deep breath, he looks over his shoulder out towards the bar and the back of the room. Looking to his watch, he smirks a little. Turning his head to Evan, he shakes his head. "No, not it's not." He offers a hand to her. "Dane Ramiro."

Eve flashes a smile of gratitude at the bartender, taking the cup carefully as if she's afraid it might fumble easily from her fingers. She sips tentatively, then again in sheer appreciation for the fact its the best vintage of …juice she's had in a while. Gaze flicks momentarily to Timon's glass of wine, keeping her envy down to a minimum. Juice. Yummy. Back to her juice and her attention back to the singer. Wait. Who is that moving in on Ramiro? Two shows for the price of one.

Micah comes in from Hotel Entrance.
Micah has arrived.

With deliberate care, Evan slides into the chair next to Ramiro's. It's a respectful distance - not touching, not even in comfortable touching distance. Fingers curl around her glass for a moment and are then offered to the Marine. "Evan," she says simply, quietly, keeping her voice low.

The next song is slow, but hardly sad, and Corinne wears an appropriately sultry smile for the duration of the pretty ballad entitled 'Under the Two Full Moons.' Both her arms are stretched out along the curved panel of the grand piano, her back arching just so, displaying both chest and thighs to perfection. The piano plays the swelling chorus, and Corinne sings along in harmony:

"The two full moons illuminated
Your perfect lips. My breath was bated,
As I anticipated our first kiss
On a night so much like this."

Corinne's eyes drift closed, her smile turning introspective for a moment. Has she experienced something similar, or is she simply a skilled performer?

The tables are spread out enough that a few quiet words could be shared without interrupting the show. Ramiro takes his hand back from Evan with a nod in her direction. Leaning back in his seat a little so that he can speak quietly with her, he listens to the lyrics and lets himself get comfortable before he opens his mouth. "She's really, really good isn't she?"

Timon's expression grows wistful as Corinne sings that song. He sets his cigarette down in a convenient ashtray. More wine is drunk. Guzzled, more accurately. He's not exactly savoring the fine vintage on his palate.

Nicholas stays parked where he is at the corner of the bar, watching Corinne sing. One of the black-clad waiters wanders past the bar on his way to the kitchen, pausing just briefly to mutter something. A shadow passes between them - something handed over and pressed into a palm…maybe. The dim lighting might be playing tricks on the imagination. Nicholas slides his hand into his pocket as the waiter moves off and has a sip of his drink, his attention on the music.

Eve leans an elbow on the bar, now more interested in the woman chatting up Ramiro than the one singing. But then again, she's a psychiatrist. She tends to draw towards socially awkward situations as if they are some elaborate case study. You can almost see the running commentary in Evelyn's brain.

Evan offers Ramiro a warm, wry little smile. "She's amazing," the woman comments softly, quietly. Yes, she's trying to be at least a little respectful of the singer performing. "I've missed this type of music. You don't get to hear much of it nowdays."

When Corinne's eyes open, they immediately find Timon's. Through the saxophone solo, she keeps his gaze held, eyes studying what she can see of his face in the dim performance light. She smiles, slides her arms down from their stretch against the piano, and she goes to sit down upon the edge of the stage. Crossing her legs at the thighs, she leans forward and keeps her eyes on Timon, delivering the last lines of the song to him:

"And when we say goodbye tonight,
And I watch your figure fading with the light,
I'll comfort myself on the long walk home
Because I know you'll think of me, tonight
And tomorrow, when the sun is bright
You'll come see me, and I won't be alone."

Micah slips into the lounge, dressed somewhat unassumingly in jeans, a dark shirt and leather jacket. The shirt's.. well, clean. That much can be said about it, and his hair is some semblance of tidy this evening. Halting just by the end of the bar, he seems to be hunting the crowd for someone in particular, though is drawn of course to the woman draped, singing, at the piano.

With the end of the song, Ramiro claps his hands. The applause is lost in the sea of clapping from the audience. The place has filled up rather quickly, with little room to find a place to sit. Looking to Evan, Ramiro nods to her softly as he takes a second to say something during the applause. "I think it's just what everyone needed…"

Tychon must have stepped out to hit the head, or something of the sort. He returns from some darker corner of the hotel sports lounge, and immediately swings back buy the bar to refresh whatever he was drinking earlier. With drink in hand, he takes a quick survey of things and picks out a table, ambling over and taking a seat.

Timon finishes his second glass, grunting an order for a third to the bartender without taking his eyes off the stage. He's getting mellow now. He smokes some more, slowly, eyes meeting Corinne's. Though his gaze is faraway, as if he's seeing something past the singer, and the club on this ship. Something bittersweet. He smiles at her, albeit not a cheery smile.

Evan mmmms softly, eyes finding Corinne again, and nods in Dane's direction. "But is it all they've needed," she asks quietly - though it seems almost a rhetorical question.

Nicholas smiles as he watches Corinne finish the song towards the wine-guzzling bathrobe-wearing Timon. He takes another swallow from his glass, his eyes making another attentive flicker around the room. Couples, singles, small groups. Those wearing smiles and those wiping their eyes with fingertips - just a speck in the eye, they'll say to their tablemates. He sets his glass back down on the swatch of cloth napkin with the Spotlights logo tastefully embroided on it, and gently brushes his hands together.

Eve sips again from her glass of juice, using the tiny red straw that was provided. Evelyn's gaze moves one from Ramiro. Now having fun trying to line up people's sight lines. Let's see who is oggling who in the dark. Hmm. Corinne goes to Timon. Who else.

Target spotted, Micah bustles through the people lurking near the bar, a few just putting their hands together now in a growing pitter-patter of applause. The seat next to Eve is claimed, hand touching her shoulder so as not to startle her with his voice, perhaps. It's pitched low, a vanishing hush beneath the brief murmur of voices and tinkling glass.

Micah whispers to Eve.

"Probably not…" Ramiro looks to Evan, nodding to her a little. Lips flattening a tad, he offers her a contemplative glance. "…it's probably gonna take a lot more, but it's a good start." He says quietly before the next song starts. Sipping his drink again, it's half gone, and he sets it back down.

"I think I need a drink," Corinne announces, falling into a theatric slump after that song ends. She laughs, swinging her legs out of their crossed position, and hops down from the stage, microphone still in hand. With her hips swaying, she strides down an aisle between a few booths and starts singing on her way to the bar, her voice leading this time instead of the notes of the piano.

"Tauron rum, you've got me overrun
My money's spent, my husband's up and gone
Oh, Tauron rum, my heart can't take the pain
So I'll just pour another glass of you again…"

By the time the first verse has ended, she's at the bar, and she reaches out to take the glass of - what else? She swirls it, turns, then heads back towards the stage, ascending the steps near the piano. She sits next to Ronnie on the piano bench, and he joins her in a duet for the remainder of the song.

Good thing that rum-bearing bartender remembered his cue, or he'd be out of a job. Nicholas gives an absent glance to his clean fingernails as Corinne heads back to the stage. Behind him one of the other tenders leans over the bar, trying to mutter something, and Nick crosses left ankle over right, leaning backwards over his elbows until he can hear. He nods to whatever the tender says, and laughs.

Eve's face brightens a few hundred watts as she turns at the touch and spies Micah. As she talks to him quietly, her eyes dart around the room as if filling him in on whatever he missed, which likely isn't just about the songstress. Her expressions and her hands become animated, even sloshing a bit of juice on Micah's jeans.

Drusus comes in from Hotel Entrance.
Drusus has arrived.

Timon claps along with that song, in both appreciation and rhythm. "The lady has excellent taste," he says to the bartender. "Cancel my wine, good man. A Tauron rum sounds positively divine…" He eyes Corinne up, and down, and up again as she makes her tour of the room. Enjoying the show.

Eve whispers to Micah.

The bartender clears Timon's glass and, with a flourish, slides a tumbler over instead, with the now-famed Tauron rum. "There you go, sir." He notices Micah having come up behind Eve, and heads back that way. "Get something for you there, sir?"

Corinne and Ronnie ham it up for the duration of 'Tauron Rum,' and the pianist indulges Corinne's apparent urge to tap out one of the higher notes, letting her play it - with dramatic reminders - every time the song calls for it. At the end of the song, she stands, and presents the pianist with the glass of Tauron rum, and he gratefully accepts with a wide, white smile.

"I have one more song this evening for you folks," Corinne announces, taking up center stage again. "You've been a fabulous audience, I assure you. This song definitely isn't about you." She tosses a look over her shoulder at Liz and nods. Something upbeat, it would seem, by the way the pixie-haired young woman at the drumkit starts to play.

Evan leans back in her seat and glances over at Ramiro, watching him more than she's watching the singer. "A decent start, at least," she murmurs, lips pursing slightly. "As long as you're enjoying yourself, I suppose…"

Micah's eyes briefly track Corinne's path from bar, back to piano bench. Not a leer, not much more than a beat or two before his lashes lower. Did Eve just spill juice on him? "That a fact?" he murmurs, bunching up his jacket sleeve in one hand and scrub-scrub-scrubbing at the juice stain. Pff. Who needs napkins. Evan's voice nearby has him flitting a brief look to her as well, though it's possibly too brief to be spotted.

Nicholas' light eyes flicker towards Micah. Might be that he just caught a hint of the man's voice. He looks between Micah and Eve and then settles his back against the bar again, looking briefly like someone who's just been reminded of a private joke. His thumb straightens a crisp lapel.

Timon drinks his Tauron rum more slowly. As if savoring the taste. He's not just pounding it for maximum intoxicating effect, at least. He leans an elbow on the bar, smoking and drinking languidly. Eyes still focused on the stage, gaze still faraway.

Eve's mouth hangs for a moment, in the middle of talking to a man who seems to be looking at anyone but her again. "It is." She says at length, then just clamming up completely. Back to her juice, and apparently the last song of the evening. She turns on her stool as if to enjoy the finale of the live entertainment.

"You've got a nice face, that's for sure,
And your shirt looks good when it's on the floor
But you make me mad, so I have to say
I like you much better when you're walking away."

Those are the opening lines of the next song, predictably titled 'I Like You Better When You're Walking Away.' It's a chant, really, just Corinne's smoky voice and the drum stylings of Liz the Drummer, but after that first verse, the saxophone kicks in and Ronnie tickles out an expert scale on the piano, and things really get started. Corinne always likes to go out with a bang.

Turning his chair a little to face his guest, Ramiro leans over and whispers something to Evan with his drink in hand as the music keeps playing. Definitely enjoying the songs, he leans back from her and looks back to the music. Watching quietly, he leans back in to say something else to her.

Over in the shadows, the young waiter and waitress who'd been swing dancing to the earlier tune get playful again. As Corinne rocks the last song they kid around, bopping back and forth. At the end of the chorus the girl gives her palm to the guy and headswivels, then turns around and saunter-walks away.

Drusus shows up just in time for the last number, picking out a half-smoked cig from behind his ear and glancing down the line of the bar for any sign of anyone else smoking, or else some indication that smoking's prohibited ont he premises. He flips his lighter idly around in his fingers while he tries to discern whether to proceed or no.

There are indeed ashtrays everywhere, and the smell of smoke is heavy.

Micah works his jaw a little, left to right, when he hears that tone in Eve's voice. Can't miss it, really. "Right," he mutters, scrubbing a little more at the juice stain before giving up on it with a grunt. Corinne's singing something about faces on the floor and walking away, and he tries to focus on her with beetled brows, and one hand already shoving into his jacket in search of a cigarette.

Evan gives Ramiro a wry little smile as she leans in to listen to what he has to say, then a bit of a nod. She turns toward him, leaning in to murmur something in reply, fingers playing on the sides of her glass.

Drusus holds the lighter still long enough to elicit a flame with a -shhik- and lean over it to light the carefully-extinguished stub, that being the case.
Evan whispers to Ramiro.

Nicholas grins at the final song, absently mouthing the words he knows so well while Corinne sings. Someone lighting up a cigarette nearby makes his head turn absently, and he glances over Drusus' face. And the half-smoked cig. "It's too much to hope you have another one of those, isn't it."

As the song draws to a close, Liz is twirling her drumsticks, Ronnie is up on his feet practically banging on the keys of the piano, and Serge is seriously making some sweet saxophone love. Corinne is right up front, loving every minute of it, watching the waitstaff couple dance in perfect correlation to the song's lyrics.

"You can leave your shirt, you can leave your shoes,
Don't stop to tell me I give you the blues
Just walk your walk, and don't turn my way
'Cause I like you better, baby, when you're walking away."

Corinne and Serge compete for the last note of the song, the singer drawing out the last syllable of 'away' and the sax player trilling that final C. Corinne prevails, naturally, and then the lights go down.

Eve lower her gaze mid-warble, picking up the little plastic straw and stabbing at her ice. Stab stab poke poke. What a great way to start an evening. Or end it. Whichever the case may be. "She's good." Its said absently, but how can it truly be just an off the cuff remark, coming from a psychiatrist? Maybe its a leading statement.

Ramiro looks to Evan as the last of the music plays, offering her a smile. Nodding slowly as if sharing an agreement over something says, he starts clapping as the crowd starts to rise and give the singer and the band a standing ovation. It's impossible to hear at this point, so Ramiro chuckles a bit before he stands and adds to the ovation.

Timon is finishing up his own cigarette, seemingly trying to make it last throughout the music. Smoking it down to the nub. His rum is likewise nursed.

"Yep," is Micah's eloquent reply, half-mumbled around his cigarette as smoke's wafted from his nose. No drink for him, though he does twist around briefly and summon the bartender with two knuckles lightly rapped against the counter. "'nother glass of juice. Ta." Of course, Corinne's just about finishing her song by then, compelling a small smile to form on his lips. He joins in the applause, but doesn't get to his feet.

Drusus takes a short draw from the cig, making the tip flare briefly orange-ward, then tips his head toward Nicholas, an impish sort of smile for him before he releases the breath easily, taking a step or two closer, "I don't make it my habit to carry a bunch of them around. Just make you want to smoke them, if they're right on hand," he points out, "Or, you know, give them away to every pretty face comes asking," the corners of his eyes crease in a look of mischief. He does pocket his lighter and flip the cig between two fingers, extending it filter-first toward Nicholas if he wants to take a try at it, vaguely pinkened as it is by a lip gloss that shimmers in the light.

Evan rolls to her feet, though she does lean close to Ramiro, murmuring something where he -can- hear. The applause continues, a standing ovation for the wonderful Corinne.

Evan whispers to Ramiro.

Tychon's been a model audience member - in the sense that he didn't make much noise or otherwise interrupt the performance - and when things come to an end, he gives an appropriately enthusiastic round of applause. Genuine, not just polite, though he doesn't join in the apparent standing ovation. Soon enough afterward, its back to brooding over his drink, or whatever he's doing at his table.

Timon seems to think standing and applauding would lessen his ability to savor the moment. He does seem decidedly sorry when the lights go down. He guzzles what's left of his rum.

The musicians disappear backstage - all except for Corinne, who strides down the steps at an even pace to mingle with the crowd. She accepts a knitted black shawl from an apparent stagehand and drapes it over her bare shoulders, then continues towards the bar.

Eve reaches behind her, if only to set down her drink and free her hands for clapping. Its polite, nothing rowdy, and she doesn't slip to her feet to do a standing ovation. But as the singer approaches the bar, she at least offers a smile that will likely go unnoticed in the lighting. Eve waited all this time for Micah to come, and now it looks as if she doesn't have three words to say to him.

Nicholas regards Drusus for a second or two before the corner of his lips pull into a grin, brow quirking. He accepts the offered cig - or the drag of one, anyway - glancing at the pink on the filter that sort of matches his tie. "Looks like pink's definitely my lucky colour tonight." He takes a drag from the smoke, careful not to make it so deep that leaves too little left for Drusus, and then extends his arm to hand it back and smiles at its owner. "You're a lifesaver." Corinne's reappeared then and the applause swells once more. He brings his hands together to match it for the jazz diva. "Beautiful!" He calls out.

"Bartender," Timon drawls over his shoulder. "Another glass of Tauron rum, if you would be so kind." He watches Corinne as she descends the stage, pasting a rakish smile on his face.

Applauding as Corinne passes towards the bar, Ramiro puts a few fingers to his mouth and whistles along with the rest of the audience before he stops. Grabbing his drink, he looks to Evan and takes his seat again once the applause fades enough for conversation to be had. "Yeah she is…I hope this becomes a regular thing, actually. The piano here's great, but it's nice to get a band going. I guess people are really starting to settle in." He pauses. "Are you from here? The Carina?"

Eve's drink arrives in short order, complete with another bendy straw. Micah takes the liberty of a sip before he slides it toward her, with a flick of said straw that might, or might not gain her attention. If not, then his murmur a hair's breadth from her ear certainly will.

Drusus just tips his head to one side to match with a subtle shrug of his shoulder in an 'I know' sort of gesture as he takes the cig back, returning the smile — on the wicked side of sweetly — before taking the filter between his vaguely glittery lips. His attention turns to the singer as she comes to make rounds, though. Another breath of smoke, and a beat after the exhale he adds his own, "Very nice," into the general mix of compliments.

Micah whispers to Eve.

Evan slides back into her seat, studying Ramiro for a time before she answers. When she does, it's a simple nod. "And am I to understand that you make yours aboard Geneis," she asks softly, taking a sip of her drink, a brow arched slightly.

"Nick, baby," Corinne greets Nicholas in her usual way, glancing between the promoter and the man who offered him a pinkened drag. "I suppose my Spotlights debut was a success, then?" Her dark brows arch dramatically over her light eyes as she settles her side against the bar and swivels her head towards rakishly smiling Timon. "You look like a man who likes swollen… crescendos," she observes, lifting her hand towards the bartender, who has been informed of what she likes. She takes a look around the bar and meets a few gazes, smiling here and there. Micah and Tychon are noted, and she reserves a secretive grin for them, before turning back to regard Timon again.

Timon takes his fresh drink when it arrives but he doesn't start guzzling. It's not intended for him, apparently. He gets to his feet, only wavering a little, and sets a course toward Corinne. "You must be parched after all that, and allowing a lady to buy her own drink is horrible manners," he drawls. Then, he randomly spouts, "I thought once how the muses had sung, of the sweet years, the dear and wished for years, who each one in a gracious hand appears…To bear a gift for mortals old and young."

Nicholas grins at Drusus' shrug. He seems to notice the necklace the man's wearing, his attention flickering over it and then up to his face again. It lingers just beyond an idle glance, and then Corinne is there and he laughs. "Corinne, you gorgeous thing. I think you've redefined 'success' as this place will ever know it again. I'll never be able to book another act, they'll be too petrified of standing on the same stage that you did. That was absolutely fantastic."

Whatever is whispered into Evelyn's ear causes a pout to curl out her lower lip. It might seem like a comical attempt on her behalf, if she didn't seem to actually /mean/ it. She's actually pouting about something, which looks a little odd on a thirty something year old woman. She responds quietly, reaching for that newly refreshed drink.

.Eve whispers to Micah.

"Yeah…yeah I do." Ramiro looks to Evan, turning in his seat to face her as he pauses to take another pull from his glass. "Marine Corps." He smiles back at her. "I come over here occasionally for the pyramid matches, mostly for that, but a little bit of leave." He smiles. "What do you do?"

If he had a better facility with words, Micah might be offering poetry or praise to the passing Corinne. But all he's got is an awkward smile, knuckles scraping through bristly stubble before he returns the cigarette to his lips. Whatever Eve says, has him blinking, and then giving a dramatic roll of his eyes. Her chin is taken, turned closer, and a kiss pressed to her lips. More words murmured that taste of smoke, right there where they can be felt.

Drusus lowers what's left of the cig to his side, fingers held outward slightly as he leans casually against the bar on an elbow. Once his attention's on the performer, both his brows pop upward as he tries to decode that bit of innuendo she'd thrown toward Timon, regarding the words and then the man in their context, before he brings the cig back to his lips to finish it off and listen to the rest of the conversation.
Micah whispers to Eve.

Corinne glances at the rum that Timon presents to her, and she smiles, if a bit sardonically. "Thanks, darling," she tells him, but doesn't reach for the drink yet. Nicholas is yet holding her attention. "Petrified, you say? Well, then, I'll count that as a success on my end as well. There's nothing I like better than eradicating competition." Her eyes flit to Drusus again at the tail end of that statement, and she smiles theatrically. Poetic verse captures her focus, then, and she angles her head back towards Timon. "I know those lines, I think. Classical. Lovely." She smiles. "Like this ensemble of yours. Where /do/ you shop?"

Ahhh, THE question. Evan simply smiles at Ramiro, dipping her head ever so slightly. "I'm a dancer," she says, voice low, quiet. "What do you do for the Marine corps?" The conversational ball gets batted back at him.

Timon catches Drusus' look, winking. Let the old, semi-drunk man in the bathrobe show you how it's done, boyo. He grins, albeit rather wistfully, when Corinne recognizes the verse. "'Muses of Evening' by Kataris. If there are lovelier words, I haven't heard them." Said with a certain bittersweet admission. He chuckles, twirling his bathrobe belt again. "I have a philosophy, darling. The worlds have ended, we're adrift in space, all traces of ordinary society gone. And I figure, with all of that, I'm damned well going to drift comfortably. Why adhere to the tired, traditionalist views of when a man can and cannot wear his pajamas in public? To hades with such moral quibbling, I say."

"A Dancer?" Ramiro raises his eyebrows, as if amazed. "What company were you with? Back when I was stationed on Caprica we weren't far from the ballet house and we'd see them all of the time at one of the tea houses…" He pauses, looking to her. "I'm an officer, well, a new officer. Former scout sniper but I was recently mustanged to Operations Officer."

Yeah, that doesn't help. Evelyn turns away from Micah's lips, clunking down the second glass back on the bar. "Maybe I'll just see you back on the ship." She mutters. Uh oh. Someone's hormonal.

Eventually… he runs out of alcohol. And that is enough to encourage Tychon to get up from his seat, ambling back toward the bar. You can bet he caught that not-so-secret secret smile and has tracked where the songstress went. So, taking a few minutes to span the floor, he arrives there in the vicinity of the lot of them - Timon, Drusus, Nicholas and the lady herself, offering a sort of general nod in greeting. "What's that you're drinking?" he asks of one of the dead rum glasses, noting just the slighest tint of drink that might have been left there with it.

Nicholas smirks at Corinne and Timon, raising an eyebrow as he listens to that particular conversation. How cute. He picks up his drink glass by the rim and gently swirls it before downing the last swallow. Whether that was liquor or water will never be known. He seems quite happy to just watch the attention that Corinne gets from Timon and the other fans that drift by hoping even to get a whiff of her perfume. Job well done.

Yep. Evan picked a winner. There's a moment where she considers how to answer his question, then she leans in, voice dropping to something a little more low, a little more intimate. One hand drops to Ramiro's arm, fingertips barely brushing, as she whispers something quietly.

Evan whispers to Ramiro.

Micah's teeth click together after Eve's spoken, and grind together slightly in agitation. Most likely, their little quibble goes entirely unnoticed. Most eyes are trained on the songstress, what can be spotted of her in the cloying smoke that muddies the lounge. "Right," he repeats, flicking his cigarette away into an ashtray and settling back against the bar. Fine. BE THAT WAY.

To the pyjama'd one: Drusus draws his brows together, his lips forward into the vaguest formation of the proto-labio-velar thrust that is the linguistic base behind all questioning words. Show me, then, old-drunk-man, he seems to indicate, before settling in to watch him work. He smokes the cig down tothe unsmokable, and sets the stub down into the ashtray, letting it fume.

Ramiro's eyes go wide, blanching a little bit apologetically as he misses the point. Not so naive, but more that he didn't put two and two together. Chuckling, he leans in to say something to her before he leans back in his chair to speak with her. He takes his glass and offers to tap it against hers. "Did they happen to get that pool back up and running there? Last time I was there it got drained the day before I took some leave there…"

Corinne looks Timon up and down once more, finally reaching for the rum that the poet offered her. She lifts it to him and smiles, the expression amused, if tinged with wistfulness. "To being adrift, then," she intones, "In pajamas, in eveningwear, in fatigues, in pink loafers. To each his own, and to me, my rum." She drinks, then slides her gaze to Tychon. "Well hello there, pilot. This is Tauron rum. Would you like a taste before you commit?" She holds the glass out to the younger man, a smile softening the definition of her dignified face.

Eve shifts off her stool, the shift back to her feet looking uncomfortable. She doesn't even bother to look back at Micah, likely she knows precisely what his face looks like in this particular situation. She doesn't need to be reminded. A hand dives into the front pocket of her jeans, which are looking a /hint/ too snug. Aha. Cubits. That's what she was looking for, which comes out in a handful of paper, a bit of dryer lint, and a roll of antacids. She picks through it for the appropriate amount to pay for both glasses of juice.

Evan laughs quietly, eyes crinkling at the corners as she smiles over at Ramiro. "It's quite alright," she murmurs, voice low and soft. It's as if no other people are in the room - her attention is focused on Ramiro. Yes, the Lioness is stalking, delicately. "The pool is still drained, last I saw it," she tells him, tapping her glass against his. She's still on her first drink. "It would be lovely if they filled it again. Imagine just laying by the pool, sunning, as it were."

Nicholas glances at Drusus' cigarette smouldering away. Dammit. He lets out a breath that vibrates his lips and lifts a hand, making a motion with his index finger. The tender wanders over and they have a quiet conversation, which pauses when the tender holds up four fingers. Nicholas pauses and gives the man A Look, along with spread hands. A 'why you got to do me like that?' kind of expression. The tender sucks his teeth and grabs a battered pack of cigarettes from under the counter somewhere, tossing them down. "Jackass," Nicholas mutters, fishing one out proper. Only to figure out he has nothing to light it with, awesome.

"Pink loafers? Hmm. Those sound rather dashing. I could use a pair," Timon says with a wink to Corinne. "Indeed. To you, my lady, your siren's voice, and your rum." He offers her another rakish grin before leaving her to Typhon. For his part, he orders more wine.

"Well when I was there I did sun, but was hoping to get a dip in the pool too." Ramiro replies with a chuckle. He smiles to Evan and rests one arm on the table as he speaks with her. "Imagine the look on my face after all the hard work in the field, heading over there and making a sad-face at the pool." He smiles, shaking his head a little. "The sun-lamps still work over there though, bar was pretty decent."

Micah simply.. watches Eve for a little while, as she struggles to her feet and tries to procure money amongst the fluff. Money that's become meaningless while on the Genesis, but apparently still has some worth here. Too bad. He tosses a few cubits of his own down, and closes his hand over hers. 'Put it away', that touch says.

Free booze? Check. Free booze from a pretty lady? Check. Tychon will take Corinne up on the offer, dipping his head in a quick thanks, and taking up the presumably offered sip soonafter. "That's not bad," he concludes, after momentary consideration. "Whoever's pouring, pour me one." He suspects this may be Nicholas, and looks over with a grin. The rest of their conversational party is just regarded with some curiousity. He's come in late on the conversation, and it sounds like it was a -strange- conversation to begin with. So, back to Corinne. "That was a wonderful set."

Evan's laugh is very low, very quiet as she looks over at Ramiro. "I can imagine it was a horrible disappointment for you," she says, tone low. "Though, there are quite a few things to keep a … gentleman's attention, aside from the pool, that is."

Drusus can't… imagine the outfit which would be complimented by a set of pink loafers, and that shows in the vague quirk of his eyebrows before he turns his attention back toward Nicholas as if to get a second unspoken opinion. "H'm!" he comments, aloud, even, amusement rampant in his mischief-filled eyes. "Found yourself a proper donor," he notes, though he missed the exchange.

Eve huffs out a breath as Micah's hand falls over hers, and she looks up to his mismatched eyes in the dim light. There's that pout again, but this time it can't help but crack with a bit of a waivering smile. Huff! Huff, I say! She's trying to stay mad, but its incredibly difficult when it comes to Micah.

Nicholas is hardly pouring. He's on the same side of the bar as they are, seated on a stool and flipping around his unlit cigarette. He smirks a little at Tychon and assures him, "They'll start you a tab." He looks back at Drusus and shrugs at the expression. It seems to go to Corinne too. "What's wrong with pink loafers?" Then to Drusus, he lifts his chin. "Only half the battle. Have a light over there?"

Raising an eyebrow, Ramiro tils his head. "Really?" He asks quietly. "I didn't get to far on the decks there. Mostly the lido deck then over by the chapel and the cafe there. I did see the casino but something told me at the time to hang on to my cubits." He pauses. "You dance at a club there, then, I take it? Which one?"

"Thank you, darling," Corinne replies to Tychon, retrieving the glass of rum once he's had his taste. "I'm glad you like the rum, too. It's not usually my drink, but people tend to assume I enjoy it when I do that bit during 'Tauron Rum.'" She chuckles huskily, and takes a sip, tossing a quick wink Timon's way before her attention settles back on Tychon. "So, tell me the truth. Do you prefer this club to the Destiny's?" Nevermind that they're completely different types of clubs, or perhaps that's exactly what she's getting at.

Evan leans back in her seat, laughter soft and quiet. "It's the…private club," she says quietly, gently. "The one where a gentleman meets the elevator to make sure no one under the age of 18 enters."

Micah's watching Eve's eyes quietly as she looks up to meet his. Awww. "Sit," he murmurs softly, two fingertips reaching out to smooth a stray curl of hair from her forehead, behind her ear. "An' put that money away. You like piano music, right?" There is, indeed, a young woman settling down and blotting sweat off her palms, against her skirt. Corinne's going to be a tough act to follow, but this is just mood music. Background noise.

Timon winks back at Corinne, doing his best to look boyish. He's /several/ decades past having lost his ability to do that. He drinks a this wine, turning his attention to the pianist.

Drusus closes his eyes briefly, just long enough for the definition of his long, mascara-darkened lashes to stand out agaisnt his cheeks, both sides of his mouth quirking into a grin, though one side perhaps a bit more than the other, "You know, I might," he says, fully aware that Nicholas knows full well he does. Eyes open again and he fishes out the lighter, holding it out with his thumb in position, waiting for Nicholas to lean over the lighter before lighting. "If pink loafers are your thing, I won't be your judge. I just have trouble picturing them on anyone over the age of three. Nick, baby, was it?" he asks, echoing the greeting Corinne had given the man.

Ramiro blinks and leans his head back a little. He smiles broadly. "ooohhhhhh…" He grins, chuckling a little bit. "That's what that was." He rolls his eyes at himself. "I didn't go check it out when I saw the guy at the door, figured it was a members only sort of place." He smirks, shrugging. "They teach marines to avoid unauthorized areas…" He chuckles, shaking his head a little. "How long have you worked there?"

Eve isn't so easily smoothed back down tonight, now that her feathers are ruffled. Where she normally would do as Micah bids and sit back down, it seems she's not in a compliant mood. Her hand goes to lay on his bicep, curling lightly into the leather of his jacket as she leans her lips near his ear and murmurs something.

"Oh no, no, no." Nicholas lifts a finger at Drusus' question, shaking his head. "There's only one diva in this room that gets to call me that. Nicholas. And you are…?" He raises an eyebrow, now leaning forward to light the cigarette off the offered flame.
Eve whispers to Micah.

Oops. "Sorry, never know whether you're running things or just along for the fun. Or somewhere inbetween, I suppose." Tychon will catch the real bartender when he can, and lay down that order, his attention returning to Corinne shortly after. "Being in the military tends to give you an appreciation for a wide range of people and places, along with their native alcohols - and women, if your luck is good." He grins. "It seemed like a hit." The song, or the alcohol? Both? The question she poses of him, however… well, that is a tricky one. "-Very- different," he emphasizes. "I guess the boring answer would be that it depends on mood, and the shamefully honest one would be that I'd -probably- pick the Destiny's, if you made me pick one." Wink. "Do you sing there, too? Or perform?"

Micah manages not to look horribly put out by whatever he hears. Eyes lowered while Eve whispers, he gives a little nod, a hitch of his shoulder. Like, sure. No problem. He's already going for another cigarette, though does slip the fingers of his free hand into her hair, drawing her a little closer so he can offer one last thing in parting. Gotta have the last word, after all.
Micah whispers to Eve.

The Lioness considers Dane for several long seconds, head tilted ever so slightly to the side. Then the smile broadens a bit. "A few months," she murmurs. "Not long at all. We civilians need to find what work we can, where we can find it. I just happen to be good at what I do." Not really boldly stated, simply matter of fact. "You should stop by one evening."

Drusus holds the flame steady for Nicholas to light off of, "Nicholas," he repeats, the tried-and-true tactic for remembering names by repeating them back, though he's unable to wrestle down that little grin that tries to emerge at the oblique reference to multiple divae. "Drusus Lucius," he gives his first two names, leaving off the last. "Only got the tail end of the show. I guess the rest was good," he remarks, since Nicholas seemed to be amply demonstrating his approbation. Nothing too serious, just something to prod a conversation into happening.

Timon continues to drink, though he gradually drifts away from the bar to find a table in a quiet corner. Perhaps so he can better hear the piano. Perhaps because he's getting sleepy. Because, if he's left alone long enough, he /will/ indeed go to sleep with his head on a table. To be hauled out by the Spotlights personnel at their convenience.

"Oh, I'm not a burlesque act," Corinne replies to Tychon with a quick lift of one corner of her mouth. "Anymore," she adds with a low chuckle. "There's a club called Serendipity on the third deck. That's my baby, that's where the songbird chirps most nights." She has a final sip of her rum, draining the glass, and she lifts a pair of fingers towards the bartender. He knows that signal, and he drops what he's doing to pour her a glass of bourbon. "And another glass of Tauron rum for my new, flight-capable friend." She indicates Tychon with a gentle brush of her hand along his forearm. Cougaaarrr.

Eve opens her mouth to respond, but closes it again. She's doing a fantastic interpretation of a guppy tonight. If she quips back, they'll be here all night, each trying to get the last word in. There's just a nod, no smile, and Eve's heading for the door.

Eve leaves for Hotel Entrance [O].
Eve has left.

Ramiro watches Evan quiety for a moment before the looks to his drink and downs the last of it. Setting the glass down, he doesn't bite at the liquor. Tilting his head a little with a nod, he looks back to her. "I just may…I just may…I dunno…" He looks back towards the entrance to Spotlights and then checks his watch. Guffawing just a little bit, he looks to her. "So…were you meeting someone here?"

"Drusus Lucius?" Nicholas straightens his shoulders as smoke starts to drift upwards. "Drusus Lucius, that's quite a mouthful. Nothing I can call you that won't tie my tongue?" There's a brief flick of his eyes towards Drusus' mouth as he makes that comment, and he smirks with an air of playfulness. He then glances at Corinne, engaged as she usually is after one of her shows, with a nice-looking young man. Cougaaarrr. "The rest was fantastic, as it always is. Corinne's always had a particular flair for leaving them breathless. Wouldn't you agree?"

Evan takes a slow sip from her drink. She's been nursing it pretty well. "No, I wasn't," she tells poor Dane with a small smile. "I was hoping to meet some new and interesting people to talk with and just get away from work for a little bit." Her lips twitch a little and she glances to Corinne. "Besides, I also wanted to support Corinne."

Ugh. That woman needs to come with an instruction manual. Micah twists around so he's facing the bar, and pitches his forehead into his palm before taking a drag of his smoke.

"You know her?" Ramiro blinks, apparently needs to get out a little bit. "I take it she's from the Destiny too then?" He asks, turning and warming up to the conversation. Seems he was hoping to see someone tonight, and it fell through. He pauses. "Sorry if I seem awkward. I'm having a really weird week. Two weeks. I'm adjusting…" He chuckles.

"Anymore, huh?" Ponder. Perhaps a dirty kind of pondering, at that. Moving on. "That right? I don't know half the ships we've picked up, hoenstly," Tychon admits. "That was actually the first time I was on the Destiny. People have been coming here a while, to the Carina in general, this bar and one or two others that I know of, but I never knew what kind of stuff they had over there." A bit of a grin. "I guess I should plan to drop by and see you in your native environment, next time I get leave, or at least a few shifts off." Drinks are summoned, and his grin only widens, perhaps encouraged by that brief touch. "Kind of funny how business is booming in the situation we're in, for all these places. But I guess its to be expected, to a point."

Drusus doesn't miss the playful smirk— not at all— and his smile broadens, eyes narrowing into a wicked look as he plays back readily, "Don't tell me you don't enjoy being tongue-tied every once in a while." The smile splits into a grin, almost in spite of him. "Call me Drusus. Or Luci. Depending on your preference." Preference of name? Maybe, but more than likely he's referring to some other sort of preference.

Evan's lips turn down ever so slightly as she studies Ramiro, as if she's feeling for him. "Do you mind if I ask what's going on," she asks, gently.

Ramiro looks back to Evan, keeping the conversation with her as he looks to her drink. Not wanting to seem a lush, he flags down a server. Ordering a refresh of his drink, he offers to pay for hers as well. After the business is done and the server heads away, he looks to her. "It's just been a large amount of crazy lately…" He chuckles, not quite knowing where to begin. "Got mustanged from Sergeant to Officer so I'm moving everything around and am getting buried in paperwork. Not a complaint in the least but…I thought someone was going to show up tonight." He motions to her. "Not a complaint in the least, trust me, just kinda…disappointed." He shrugs. "Not that I'm bad company, it's just…complicated." He chuckles a little bit more inwardly.

Nope, the cigarette's not working. And even the promise of alcohol doesn't seem to be holding much appeal. Micah drags the ashtray closer with a pinky finger, and twists his cigarette out until it's crumbled and wafting smoke. Then he's peeling himself out of his chair and prowling on out, with a few shoulder-shoves to ensure a clear path.

Micah leaves for Hotel Entrance [O].
Micah has left.

The touch isn't quite brief enough to be a simple reminder for the bartender so he knows where to put that rum, but Corinne's hand doesn't overstay its welcome. When she removes it, her fingers slide off the forearm lengthwise. "It is to be expected," she agrees, reaching for her bourbon to swirl and then drink. "At first, the atmosphere on the Destiny was… frenetic, you know. People partying like it was their last days in this universe - for all we knew, it was. It's calmed down some, the debauchery, but. Like the man in the bathrobe, some just want to live out the rest of their days lavishly. Lasciviously." She smiles, looking a touch sardonic, and bumps shoulders with Tychon. "I guess I'll keep providing the soundtrack."

Evan listens attentively to the man, smile softening as she listens to Dane's litany. "Ahhh, I see," she murmurs softly. "So a little bit of the good with the bad, hmmm?" She reaches a hand out, as if to pat his, then pauses - uncertain. Such a confident woman, and she's uncertain?

Nicholas smirks at Drusus, as to the tongue-tying question. There's nothing answered, just the smirk…which seems to say quite a bit. "Drusus, then. I like it, it dances." He flicks his thumb against the filter of the cigarette and sends ash not into the tray but straight onto the counter, having waited until the tender who tried to charge him for the smokes was looking his way. Suck on that. Looking back at Drusus, he raises an eyebrow and makes a less subtle lookover of the man. "Don't think I've seen you around before. Military?"

Nicholas also glances towards the door as Micah goes out like that. His eyes make a casual flicker to Evan and then go back to Drusus. Soap opera in here.

"Yeah…a little good with the bad I suppose." He smiles to her. He settles in to speak with her. "So…aside from your job, what do you do?" He pauses. "You know, what interests you? What do you do in your spare time?" He asks.

Evan laughs softly, quietly, brushing her fingers over Dane's arm before returning the hand to her glass. "I'm a civilian, Mr. Ramiro," she says, voice low and soft, amused. "I've got nothing BUT time. So I spend most of it working, and when I'm not working, I'm meeting new people."

Certainly no harm done. Tychon continues smiling, to the point where he actually gets the rum that she's ordered him, and beyond. He lifts it for a sip or two. "That must have been a sight." Considering what the ship seems to be like -now-, it is certainly a fun exercise for the mind to imagine them in the throes of apocalyptic ecstasy? "But I suppose the reaction is hardly surprising, all things to consider. And even now, its hard to condemn it." Although, presuambly, there is a part of the duty-bound military personality that -does-, and she might catch some vague suggestion of it in his tone. Military men party hard, but duty always looms close, and when its time, they drag themselves from their stupors, from their unfamiliar beds, and get back to the work of it. "You do a wonderful job of it, at any rate," he notes, complimenting her singing again. "Were you on the Destiny for a long time before this? Its interesting the sorts of… odd intersections of lives and lifestyles, histories, backgrounds and such, that we have in the fleet." Said on a floating sports arena, in the shadow of a massive battlecruiser! He has a point.

Drusus draws himself up against the counter, folding his arms, one forearm over the other in a lazy sphingish look, a set of fingers bent down to drape over the countertop. A shift of his legs that might just be a little subtle posing in response to the looking-over. "Mmmmm-hm," Dusus replies to the question, the agreement rather lopsided in a lilting fashion, "They keep me on a pretty short leash, most days. Glad I could get out for this," he glances back toward the stage, "Not my usual sort of music, but— nice to see a live show. Damned nice," he adds. But the 'tender is looking in their direction, now, and he calls, "Cerissyons, if you've got any."

Ramiro laughs with her a little bit, eyes twinkling as he starts to genuinely clear up. "Ohhhh cmon it can't be that bad. You guys get the pool, the club, the temple, the casino…" He chuckles, looking to her. "I imagine you'd probably find the Genesis a pretty boring place. We work really hard over there, which is probably why you see alot of the military that do go up to the club are simply aching…aching to let loose and relax." He says with that sort of strong neverending stamina, as if he doesn't ever need to slow down and relax. Folding his arms in a non-cutoff manner, he leans back in his chair a little bit to recline. "So I've been dying to ask, from a civilian perspective, how are us grunts received over there?"

"Mmmmhmm. I know the type of…leashes they keep you on," Nicholas' smile briefly shows teeth. The shifting around isn't lost on him; he keeps an eye that way even as his head turns so he can drag gently on the cigarette. "That's a shame. Wouldn't want you to miss curfew or anything." The tender heads off to check if they have any left of what Drusus wants. It's a crapshoot these days. "This the only thing you come over for? Music?"

Something dangerous seems to flicker in the Lioness' eyes. While she's clearly amused by something Ramiro says, there's that -look-. "Fairly well, for the most part," she says finally. "Their cubits spend as well as anyone else's. As for the aching to go relax, well, yes. Of course, some of them are simply aching." Her lips turn upward very slowly at the corners as she studies Dane. Did the gazelle just break a leg?

"I generally don't answer questions relating to expanses of time," Corinne replies a little saucily, though her smile is still undoubtedly in place. "They might reveal a little too much." Her age certainly is difficult to pinpoint, though there are faint lines near the corners of her mouth and eyes. "Suffice it to say, I've been there long enough to claw my way to the top, from my oh so humble beginnings hinted at before." She has another sip of her bourbon, then rests her chin in her hand after leaning in a little closer to Tychon. "How long have you been a pilot?"

Ramiro's eyes narrow a little bit, studying her back. It's not a threatening gesture, but almost a curious one. The server sets his drink down and he nods to her before turning his attention back to Evan. He opens his mouth and pauses, choosing his words. "We…" He starts. "…well everyone, but the combat we do see I imagine that's what alot of people chase away from for a few days. I take leave whenever I can get it, got a few days promised to me in a row with the promotion and all but I've been sitting on them. So much to do." He absentmindedly rubs his arm, a bit of his scar gets exposed. He smiles brightly at her. "So you don't really get leave, you just go where you damn well please, right?"

Drusus has his head vaguely tilted away from Nicholas as he keeps a calm but almost willful eye on the 'tender. Have the stuff. Have the stuff. Have the stuff. But no less there's a downward cant of his head to match a grin at the leash comment. "So far. Though a drop of the liquor won't land amiss. A room I don't need to share with some of humanity's most hopelessly unhygienic," he exhales sharply from both nostrils in what could be construed as a laugh.

"An officer AND a gentleman," Evan offers with a low, quiet laugh. "And yes, we're free to come and go as we please," she comments, dipping her head slightly. "The accommodations are delightful, as is the taxi service provided by the military for the…let's see. Three or four ships we have access to, including the Tyllium mining ship." A hand waves delicately, as if she can't be bothered with silly things like numbers. "Why, it's practically a pleasure cruise aboard the civilian ships." She's smiling. The Lioness is actually smiling. "So, tell me, Mr. Ramiro," she asks, leaning across the table toward him, chin propping on her palm. "Why the military? I'm curious."

Oops. A look of brief worry, there, from poor Tychon, navigating the dangerous business of talking to the… experienced songstress. "Hah, right, my apologies, I didn't mean to pry. I was just curious… about life on the ship, I guess. Its really an interesting place, so… different from what I'm used to, I guess you could say? Well differnet for a -ship-. We always had to wait until we were at port to find so many entertaining places all crammed together." He also can't help from at least a little grin, at reference to her interesting past. When its his turm, of course, the younger man has the advantage of both of those two descriptors, his age and gender. He's much freer to share it without worry. "Six years, give or take - depending how you want to count from my earliest training, when I got my wings, or from when I first went on active." He chuckles a little. "Don't laugh, but that actually makes me one of the 'veteran' pilots in the squad."

"Haven't been to any refugee areas over here then, I take it," Nicholas' tone touches dry, as he quite gracefully crosses his legs. His hand opens with the cigarette between his fingers, making a wave towards the room. "We'll all take our illusions where we can get them. And what about it, then? Like what you see?"

Ramiro blushes and chuckles a little inwardly at the mention of being a gentleman. Taking a drink from his glass, he sets the tumbler down and turns to look back at her. "Why the Marines?" He pauses. "Well I grew up on Gemenon. After high school me and some of the guys from the team where discussing what to do. Some of them went to tryouts from the pro circuit, but a few others and myself decided to enlist. You know the story. Travel, grow up, become men, come back after your tour's through and have everything you need." He smiles. "So I qualified for sniper and got transferred to Caprica at the Caprica City garrison. I transferred to the Genesis a bit later, been there ever since." He says, obviously having seen some action by the way he talks about it. "There wasn't an SST detachment here so I worked my way to get rights for being team lead, but had to give that up recently with the promotion." He leans forward a little. "I'll tell you a secret, allright? Going from enlisted to officer? It's like boot camp for the brain."

Corinne laughs, then promptly cups a hand over her mouth to stifle the smoky, throaty sound. "Sorry, but… my, you look so young." She leans closer, inspecting his face at an intimate proximity. "Hardly a mark or a blemish. And you're a veteran?" Her blue-gray eyes glimmer briefly as she teases him.

Drusus lifts his eyes as he's invited to do so, gaze idly following the pivoting motions of the spotlight as it meanders through the air. "I do. I like it," he replies simply, not moving otherwise. "Go on and fool me," he adds, whether talking to the spotlight or to Nicholas. And then there's a low glass of deep red liquor delivered to the proximity of his hand, and he looks down to it.

Evan laughs softly, low and quiet. It's a different timbre than Corrine's laugh. "It sounds utterly fascinating," she tells Ramiro, focus intent on the poor man. Yep, that poor gazelle. "So why did you do it," she asks, arching a brow in question.

Tychon manages to look just a -little- offended. Well, maybe not really offended, just a little indignant. "Maybe its because we have to keep ourselves in such good shape." Yep. That's his excuse. "And the rest of them are practically kids. You remember Jail- er, Micah, I'm sure, from the other night? Most of them are like him." When she leans in to… examine him, he stands for inspection, quirking a brow at first, until he realizes what exactly she's up to. "I saw combat even before the second cylon war brokeout. Plenty couldn't say that much." A hint of pride. "Plus, we're flyboys, remember? Not marines. When we get beaten up in a fight, we usually don't make it back as much more than scrap and spacedust."

Nicholas smiles. He stubs out the cigarette - grudge apparently forgotten since he does it in the ashtray and not on the faux wood - and loosely folds his arms on the counter, letting himself lean on them. "So what is it the military does with you?"

"Why did I enlist?" Ramiro asks, repeating the question as he bobbles his head around a little bit, considering for a moment. Pursing his lip a little bit he looks back to her. "I'd like to say that I did it for the cause. We were peacetime back then but I wanted to see if I was capable. I wanted to improve myself, push myself if that makes sense?" He pauses. "Then with the breakout of the war I've found myself narrowing in on purpose. I mean, you guys out there depend on guys like me to stay in top form." He shrugs, widening his eyes a little. "I mean, what would the civilians think if we were all fat and lazy right?"

"Oh, the pilot with you last night?" Corinne asks in detached interest. "The one who got the lapdance from the Lioness." Yes, she remembers the ambitions from twenty-four hours ago. They've changed somewhat since then, which she makes abundantly clear by the way she continues to study Tychon's face. "I don't recall complaining about the lack of marks or blemishes, darling." Au contraire, her slow smirk seems to say.

There's a flash in Evan's eyes, briefly, as she listens to his tale and she dips her head after a moment. "Interesting," she says quietly. "But why did you go officer?"

Drusus takes up the red liquor and just smells it briefly before taking a short sip. "Anything it damned well pleases," he offers as the obligatorily cheeky reply, before, more seriously, "Mostly I work encryptions and communications security measures."

Nicholas gives Drusus a slow grin at that first response. His nose wrinkles, almost a two-eyed wink. "CIC man. Heard that takes quite the delicate touch. So you're enlisted."

Ramiro runs a hand through his hair, pausing to take a sip of his drink. Setting the glass down again, a bit of the military coming through in the way he keeps setting his glass back down, he looks to Evan. "Because they asked me to." He says with a laugh, pinching the bridge of his nose between his eyes. "Can't think of a more amazing answer than that, really." He releases his hand and looks back to her. "I've been in nearly every engagement we've had and they saw something that they liked. With what we've got at hand and they ask me to be there for them? You're damn right I'm going to say yes." He chuckles.

"Well, the -first- one who got a lapdance from the Lioness," Tychon quips. "You missed it, I think, but she went after Scorch - the Raptor pilot who came in later? - next." The very female raptor pilot, that is. Not that the Lieutenant makes any special point of it. "But yeah, that's him." Why were they talking about Micah, anyway? Now he's forgotten. He gets back to grinning. Grinning close-up, it seems. A little studying of the woman is done in turn.

"I am," Drusus replies, "Though I suppose we're all career men, now," he adds with a smile. "What about you? Career-wise, that is. If yours is still extant," he adds, almost in preemptive apology.

Evan chuckles softly and takes a sip of the new drink that was placed on the table in front of her. She seems relaxed, seems being the operative word. "It sounds like you're rather dedicated to the cause, then," she says quietly. "Though, I have to wonder something." Is Lioness moving in for the kill?

"Not too long ago it became less of a job and more of a calling in life." He smiles to her, tilting his head a little bit in that sort of curious pose, as if the question hasn't been asked and is all ears. "Yeah?" He pauses, picking up his drink. Looking to his drink in preparation of a sip, he finishes. "What's that?"

"This is my career." Nicholas again moves a hand to indicate the bar, though this time he doesn't look away from Drusus when he does it. "Or rather, not this, but them." This time his hand gestures to Corinne. And seems to include Evan in the sweep. "Promotions. Pimping with an MBA, as they used to call it."

Corinne ahs, dipping her head once. She seems content to let the subject of lapdances and other pilots fall by the wayside as well, and her eyes stay where they are, moving only subtly as she continues to study his face. "You like that Tauron rum, then?" she asks, suddenly steering the subject matter down a different path.

Corinne growls, "Damn it, Nick, you know I hate that phrase," over Tychon's shoulder before she shifts her focus back to the pilot's pretty face.

Nicholas turns his head slightly and presses his fingers to his lips, blowing Corinne a fond kiss.

Ahhh, how to put a difficult topic delicately. "How do you do it," Evan asks Ramiro, finally. "How do you manage to actually sleep at night?" It doesn't seem meant in an accusatory way, but as a question.

Ramiro sets his glass down again after the sip. He considers the question for a moment before he leans forward a bit, resting his elbows on his knees as he speaks with her. He shrugs. "It was harder at first." He doesn't seem upset about the topic. "But with the possibility of a drop around every corner…" He shrugs. "…your body knows when it's time to get as much sleep as you can get. It's kinda mechanical."

Drusus turns his head briefly to look the women over again in a new light, brows both rising and quirking slightly before he looks back to Nicholas, "Back to the basics, h'm?" he remarks with a smile. "Look to be doing good business."

Oh, she's gone and reminded Tychon that he has a -drink-. Imagine that. When Corinne mentions it, he raises the glass in a little salute, and takes another sip. "Its pretty good. Not all that strong, though." Who knows what he's used to. Engine-room moonshine? When she suddenly looks off at her pimp/promoter, he's given a brief respite from that rather close and personal inspection. And then she's right back in front of him. "Hi there," he chrips. "So you guys plotting some kind of media coup? You've got, what was it, Serendipity? But you're making appearances at the gentlemen's club, starring here… what's next on the menu?"

"Next?" Corinne asks introspectively, drumming her fingers up one of the flat panels of her stout glass. "Well, I was thinking of going back to my dressing room, putting on a little music, taking off— oh, you meant more generally." She smiles, the expression faintly self-indulgent. "I don't know, I guess that's up to Nick. But he's made me angry, so let's pretend he doesn't exist and talk about something else." She leans into Tychon, pressing her unoccupied hand into his shoulder as she whispers something into his ear.
Corinne whispers to Tychon.

Evan is quiet for a time, watching Ramiro, then she nods, once. "But what about the innocent people y…" A pause and she corrects herself, giving him an apologetic look. "who have been killed. Pegasus, Hera…"

"For now." Nicholas picks up the cigarette pack, pulling another out. "I'm sure eventually there will be someone's wet dream of a thesis to be written about the survival of entertainment in times of war." Corinne's comment down the way makes his gray eyes roll dramatically up towards the ceiling.

Ramiro watches Evan closely, shaking his head a little bit. "No…" He says, reaching out to her arm. "…it's allright don't apologize. Lords I know it must be tough from the civilian angle. We get a mission, right? You guys get to wait on the outcome." He pauses, pulling his hand back. "I'm not an official spokesperson, but what I can say is this." He swallows. "We from the Genesis weren't a part of that. We sort of got dropped onto that situation. We're in the business of maintaining the sanctity of human life. I myself don't want revenge. I just hope we find a home that we can safely go to and end this." He offers her a little wistful smile. "Until that happens, I'm going to do everything that I can to keep every man, woman, and child around here safe. You have my word." He pauses. "That's why I accepted the promotion. Because I believe what I say."

Drusus draws his lips together, trying not to smile, the look edging itself between amused and darkly skeptical at Nicholas' assertion that the species will live long enough for scholars to write theses on the topic. Of course, knowing scholars, those theses ought to be coming out of the woodwork any day now. He sips some more of the red liquid, shifting himself to one side and resting one elbow on the bar again, "Were you the one who got word out about this show?" he wonders.

Tychon's eyebrows raise as she starts going down that list of impending dressing room activities. "Yes, more generally," he quickly amends. However, no sooner than the subject is identified, it is apparently banned. While the young-ish (but not -that- young, hmph!) pilot sits pondering the derailed conversation choice, perhaps pondering some alternative, he soon finds the woman leaning in that much closer to him. That may take him just a little off guard, although not so much that he shirks away. Whatever she says has a similar effect - a moment of pause, his eyes briefly flicking down to his glass for some reason - and then a slight smile. A few moments later, he says something back to her, keeping his tone to the same conspiratorial level.

Tychon whispers to Corinne.

Evan is quiet as she listens to Ramiro, studying him somewhat intently now, leaning forward slightly. "But what about those who WERE involved," she says softly. "Those who actually took part and are still with the military?"

Karan comes in from Hotel Entrance.
Karan has arrived.

Corinne's hand remains on Tychon's shoulder as he mutters something in return, and she smiles. Leaning back only to bring the glass of bourbon to her lips again, she swallows, then goes right back into mumbling something just a few millimeters away from the pilot's ear.

"I was." Nicholas' voice gains a touch of pride. "If it were up to me I'd put up posters of Corinne's gorgeous face all over the Genesis, but something tells me your Commander would have a aneurysm." He grins, one brow quirking and lowering. He's at the bar, talking to Drusus. A short way down Corinne is talking to Tychon, and over at a table Evan and Ramiro are conversing.

"From what I understand the ships we came across with your fleet…the Nebula, the Destiny, all of those…were getting outside trouble of the human sort, right?" He pauses. "That's not us." Ramiro says, sitting at a table with Evan and having a drink with her. He pauses to take another sip from his glass, looking to her. "That's not what we do. The Colonial Military exists to serve and protect the people."

Corinne whispers to Tychon.

Drusus smiles broadly, corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement as he imagines the Commander coming across one of those posters. "It was a surprise. A nice one," he adds with a casual nod to affirm his words, "Not many civilians have taken it upon themselves to reach out and contact us on this sort of scale. Keep it up, and soon you'll have all our moneys safely in pocket," he adds with a cheeky little grin.

Karan wanders into the lounge, looking like the proverbial wrong person in the right place at the wrong time. He looks off toward the bar where people seem to be paired off for the evening, then fingers the poster on the wall. Seems he showed up too late for the music. Seems he's also underdressed for this place, in a hooded sweatshirt with the hood drawn up. He loiters a moment, on the cusp of staying or slinking back out.

With the lovely entertainer up close and personal, Tychon is looking like he's quite enjoying the attention now. He's braced against the bar, one elbow on the surface, still holding his glass. His head remains bowed slightly, toward her, as they exchange whatever words in private, the last of what he's saying actually comes out a bit louder, however: "Oh no, I wouldn't mind at all." One can make of that what they might.

Evan is quiet for a long moment as she studies Ramiro, eyes darkening, a bit of color creeping into her cheeks. "And Pegasus, what Pegasus did to us - that was because of the civilians, right," she asks softly. "What about Nebula? It was a civilian who opened fire and killed how many people?"

"Glad I'm not being mistaken for an altruist. I hate to break hearts." Nicholas returns the grin with a smirk, with a similarly cheeky air. "All you on such short leashes as you keep claiming…it's such a shame when I actually see something that I like." His eyes flicker over Drusus' face, lingering around the glossed lips again. His lips pull back into a faint grin and he picks up the cigarette that he'd meant to light. His attention drift briefly, constantly attentive to what's going on in here, and spots Karan looking indecisive. A movement of his head sends a bartender down towards the young man to get an order if he has one.

Corinne looks infinitely pleased, and finally, her hand slips away from Tychon's shoulder - but not until it dips down just a touch to graze the pilot's pectoral. She finishes what's left of her bourbon; it's almost like she's timed this whole exchange to last exactly one drink. "Good," she answers, her voice becoming similarly un-private as she pushes away from the bar and waits for Tychon to do the same. She doesn't put down any cubits; the bartender doesn't seem to be expecting any.

The bartender successfully forestalls Karan's departure, imminent as it surely was. A word or two's exchanged, and the young man gives a little shake of his head 'no'. After some further comisseration, he's indicated toward a smaller table off in the shadow of the piano. It's considered for a moment or two, then grudgingly accepted. A change of pace never killed anyone.

Ramiro goes silent, watching Evan quietly from his chair. Drink in hand now, he takes a sip. He lets out a deep breath. "I can see your point." He pauses. "If I had my way, the men of the Pegasus would be brought to justice." He looks to her, speaking quietly. "I was in the second responding unit on the Nebula. I was there…when it didn't blow up. What happened there was wrong, people were scared. Both sides had guns. I've prayed that something like that never happens again." He looks up to her. "I see what you're painting though, Evan, I really do. I know it's hard to ask because of the Pegasus, but if we're going to get through this we have to trust eachother, and right now us Genesis troopers are doing our best to restore that trust."

Drusus gives that huff of air from both nostrils again, "You think you can find a heart intact among the lot of us?" he wonders, pulling his lighter again and this time just sliding it toward Nicholas if he intends to use it, tipping his chin down and moving his eyes upward into the flickering gaze, catching it with a slight pull of a smile at the side of his mouth. "So what are you going to do once you've gotten all the money?" he wonders, that drawn half-smile, for a moment one of patent receptiveness to the stated overtures, now veering impish again.

Things have moved decidedly away from the friendly chit chat between songstress and pilot, and on to something else, it seems. When Corinne finally moves away from him, Tychon is looking just a little too pleased, a little too happy- with himself, her, the world, everything really. That last touch seals it, and as she moves away from the bar, where she more or less held him trapped at the end, the man disengages himself from it and then follows suit. Although he does glance back, likely concerned about the drinks, her manner seems to put the question to rest, and his attention turns back to her after only the briefest interruption. And when she moves away, he is most certain to follow. Looks like she's caught a flyboy.

A waitress trails after Karan, bearing a food menu. It's been reworked over the last few weeks to reflect their adjusted supplies, but clearly tonight they're splurging a little on the offerings.

Just call her a Venus Flyboytrap. Corinne leads Tychon through the aisle between booths, reaching behind her for his hand as things become a little dim. She's taking him backstage, where there is sure to be a dressing room or two with Corinne Zosimus' name scrawled into the whiteboard on the door.

"Hang the garter on the doorknob, honey," Nicholas calls after Corinne, in quite a consciously obnoxious fashion. He smirks and turns back to Drusus. "Oh, I don't know. Buy a house on the beach. Fancy car." He snorts. "Or just drop it all in the middle of street for everyone to pick up, and start the game all over again. I feel like I'm playing Monopoly."

It's interesting to note how such relationships develop in a crowded room. On one hand, you have Tychon looking like he just won the primal mating lottery, with Corinne all but frog marching her hunt and kill off. On the other, you have Evan watching Ramiro intently, expression unreadable for the most part. Except for the spark of anger in her eyes. It's not simple anger, but rage - slow, quietly boiling. The glimpse is gone as fast as it appeared. "It's not what I am painting," she says in a very low, soft voice. "It is what -happened-. The Colonial military raped families. Stripped them of their innocence. No, I've not heard of a military officer committing an actual crime. But do you think we -would- hear of something like that?" She pushes her half-filled glass away, then rethinks her choice and picks it up, shooting the rest of it back. "I'm glad there are people like you, if there must be situations like this."

Karan settles in at the booth, a tired smile offered the waitress who trails him and settles her elbows and notepad on his table. Unzipping his sweater, there's a glimpse of t-shirt beneath that may or may not be navy-issue. "Tea, please," he murmurs. "Or coffee. Do you have coffee? Just black, please." His eyes flit toward Nicholas and Drusus for a moment, head tossed 'no' again at some question asked about whitener and sugar.

"No…I know…I was trying to be.." He shrugs. "…tender about it." He pauses, speaking quietly with her. "What I can tell you is this…" He pauses, speaking to the floor. "I've lost friends, many of them, some even under my command since this war started. I've been wounded three times." He lifts his shirt sleeve a little, showing a hint of the scar. "Pilots, crew, marines…all of us on the Genesis. We've given our lives to protect the fleet that was with us. It burns us up that the Pegasus did that. There aren't enough sorries possible to atone. I know these people, Evan. They're good people. We believe the ideals that we swore to. There's a part of that trust that can only be earned back with time." He looks to her. "But…I'm sorry."

"H'm!" Drusus replies in amusement, looking down into his drink before taking another slow sip, coming up with the cubits to pay for it despite not being done, yet, and sliding them onto the bar. "Just play money… I used to hate that game. But I don't think I was old enough when I used to play it to realize what it was about. The best part was fighting over the game markers." He looks up again, "I was the Hat," he lets Nicholas know, the words weighted as if it were some integral part of his personality rather than just the piece of trivia that it is.

Evan watches Ramiro for a long while, until it seems like she's not going to respond to him at all. But then she reaches out, fingers brushing his cheek near his ear, palm cradling the side of his jaw. "You're one of the good ones," she announces after a long moment, voice very low, very quiet. "Don't let them take that from you." Eyes move back and forth over his face for a time, then she's standing, letting her hand drop. "Come see me, soon," she tells him quietly. "I'll dance for you."

Nicholas nods, as though Drusus had just said something quite deep, and replies deadpan, "Hats do tend to get a lot of head." He slides away the cigarette that he didn't end up smoking. "So am I ever going to see you in here again? Or anywhere else that we civilians are allowed to be?"

Karan isn't quite privy to the conversations going on at the bar, but it doesn't keep him from his quiet observation. The waitress has wandered off to fetch his coffee, and he finishes unzipping his sweater before resting his chin upon his knuckles. Maybe he's just lost in thought, or maybe the two men conversing about monopoly really /are/ of some considerable interest to him. He seems not to have even spotted Ramiro yet.

Dane Ramiro lets out the kind of sigh that speaks volumes. It's the sort of sigh that you breathe when you hear the words 'not guilty' or 'she survived the surgery'. The younger marine looks up at Evan and gives her a soft look. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, a reassuring one, and he nods to her. "No one could take it from me, Evan." He pauses. "Sleep well tonight for us soldier boys, allright? We try to keep the noise to a minimum." He winks, turning back to his drink.

Dane Ramiro lets out the kind of sigh that speaks volumes. It's the sort of sigh that you breathe when you hear the words 'not guilty' or 'she survived the surgery'. The younger marine looks up at Evan and gives her a soft look. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, a reassuring one, and he nods to her. "No one could take it from me, Evan." He pauses. "Sleep well tonight for us soldier boys, allright? We try to keep the noise to a minimum." He winks, turning back to his drink.

Drusus laughs. Not a huff from the nostrils, a snort, a chortle or even a 'H'm!' A real, full laugh, eyes squeezing shut, "Ha!" Utterly delighted by the punnage. He slips the cherry-red liquid he's been nursing toward Nicholas, "Go on, that was thoroughly worth a gulpers." And takes back his lighter, meanwhile, since that second cigarette doesn't seem to be fated to burn tonight. "Maybe," he replies. "Hopefully," he adds, after a moment, giving Nicolas' own features a kindly gazing-over. "I've got the night over here, but after that… my attempts to schedule leave are about as predictable as the number of new encryption codes I'm asked to work up."

Nicholas eyes the red drink with a slight loft of a dark blond brow. He picks it up and gives it a subtle, critical sniff before he sips, not gulps. It's rolled around on the tongue for a few seconds. "Missing something. Paper umbrella, maybe?" He puts it back down and rubs his fingertips together to dry the bit of moisture before he withdraws a white card from his inner pocket. "Only tonight? Too bad, I've got a client to see, and I hate rushing. Makes everything so unpleasant." He actually does sound apologetic about that and stands, unfolding himself off the stool. The card's set down by Drusus' drink. "But I'll leave it to you to give me a call next time they add a few thousand feet to that leash of yours. Give you something to look forward to."

Karan ducks his attention back to his coffee when it arrives, perhaps aware he's been staring at the couple's interactions. There's a softly murmured 'thank you', and he cups the mug in both hands for a sip. His eyes drift closed a moment.

Evan starts to stride out of the bar, though pauses to touch Nicholas on the shoulder, lightly. She doesn't interrupt any longer than to say, quietly, "Yes." That's all. Then she's moving on.

Standing, left alone now, Ramiro finishes his drink and leaves a tip. Sighing, he runs a hand through his hair. Sighing, he moves towards the door, pulling out his identification to head back to the Genesis.

Drusus tips his head to one side, "Well, there -is- a war on, we can't expect all the niceties," he replies to the dearth of umbrellae. The drink itself seems like it's meant to be sweet, endeavoring a cherry flavor, but it's a pretty dense liquor, so it comes off to the uninitiated more as a cross between cough syrup and cherry-scented nail polish remover. He takes the card, looking to it, then looking up again, "I'll do that. Ahead of time, even, if I can get a sure thing down." His eyes move to Evan, briefly, then back. "Business?" he presumes.

Nicholas looks up - after all Evan has about three inches on him even when he's standing - and nods to the lovely woman walking by. There doesn't seem to be any need for more. He gives Drusus a pleasant smile. "Enjoy that. Excuse me a second." Not skipping a beat, he turns away to skirt a table or two, until he ends up right at Karan's table. And there he crouches down, resting an arm on Karan's table right by the man's coffee cup and asks with zero preamble and a glossily casual voice, "Were you looking at me or him?"

Drusus turns back to looking over the arrangement of things behind the bar after Nicholas excuses himself and he just gives a 'sure thing' cant of his head. But as he sips his drink he looks back down at the card, flipping it over once to look at the back.

Evan leaves for Hotel Entrance [O].
Evan has left.

Karan looks up to find someone standing— leaning, really— not a few inches away. A foot, perhaps? It's disconcerting, perhaps not to some, but to this particular young man. "I beg your pardon?" is what comes out, maybe a little more breathily than he'd intended. A dab of coffee's brushed off his mouth with the back of his hand.

Nicholas' nose wrinkles very slightly, a playful expression as he grins at Karan. "You're a curious one." Without explaining himself he straightens up, brushing down his lapel, and turns around, heading away from Karan's table and towards the door without another word.

Karan returns the playful look with a very faint frown. Curious, or merely a curiosity, he nevertheless watches after Nicholas for a step or two before returning to his coffee and his probably very deep thoughts. Which might just be comprised of gazing at reflections in the glass panel opposite.

Nicholas doesn't turn back around, breezing out the door as though the night had ended on a perfect note.

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