Show Business
Show Business
Summary: Corinne and Nicholas discuss the concert, men, women, and competition. There's just no business like show business.
Date: 79 ACH
Related Logs: Lounge Councert

Lido Deck Destiny - Deck 5
79 ACH 23817 Souls

At one time, this cruise liner was the top of the Caprican fleet. Vacations that couldn't be taken on the colonies, were taken in space. The coastal water themed park here, is quite the sight. Umbrellas sit around under fake sun lights and comfortable deck chairs. Even the smell of the ocean is piped through the vents. Nothing was left to spare, as the larger than Olympic sized pool even has a wave machine.

An 'outdoor' bar with the look of palm leaves, grass sides and roof give way to the feel of being on a tropical resort. Music plays, people dance and drink around the tiki torches and people simply enjoy their stay among the vacationers here.

Nicholas is by the pool, which was emptied by Genesis engineering quite a while ago and has suffered under an attempt to make it look pretty even when drained. They failed. But people still sit out here, clinging to the glorious past. Nick is in a deck chair, in a pair of dark slacks and a white T-shirt with navy blue trim and some obscure record label logo on the front, a silver chain around his neck. He watches the crowds of the pretending-they're-still-rich walking about in bikinis and swim shorts, still looking like they enjoy the fake sun. Sad.

The day after a big show. It's always a crapshoot with Corinne, depending on whether her predatory attempts to secure some ripe young flesh were successful or not - but today, the singer shines. There is something satisfied in the way she moves, slinkily, through the Lido deck on her way back to the Serendipity. She spots Nicholas, however, and her path corrects itself. She approaches, slides into a deck chair next to him, and settles her gaze on the perpetual vacationers. "You know, I always liked pushing people into pools. I think it's even more appealing to me right now, without the water to break their fall." She crosses her legs at the thighs and leans back.

Nicholas is wearing a dark pair of sunglasses that fit his face well. He could be looking at the couple sunning themselves across the empty pool, or the young woman in a bikini by a fake tree, or his eyes might be closed. Who knows. His head tips up at the sound of the voice at his right. "I haven't heard you whisper sweet nothings of negligent homicide in months. He must have been well hung."

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Corinne asks, lazily, as she laces her hands behind her head and reclines luxuriantly. "Oh, wait, I /do/ like to kiss and tell. Like a horse, Nick. Like a horse." She sighs, a satiated sound, then asks, "What about the tarty, pink-lipped young thing you were amusing yourself talking to most of the night?"

"I prefer the fun of anticipation," Nicholas does smirk, his eyes remaining hidden behind the sunglasses. "Instant gratification is so…disco age." He sniffs, sounding amused. "Pilot, wasn't he? That…Armedes. Did he call you his little cockpit?"

"No, I gagged him," Corinne replies flippantly, unlacing her hands to push some dark waves of hair back from her face. A little unruly today, it is. "I spent all that time talking to him at the bar, do you really think I wanted to hear him in my dressing room? Less talk, more cock, please." She doesn't even defend herself when it comes to instant gratification - she's old enough to know what she likes.

"I don't believe that for a second," Nicholas says, savouring his own words. "That you gagged him, not that you weren't about the cock. Gagging would've meant he couldn't compliment you, and I know you better than to think you'd deprive yourself."

Corinne laughs, her voice especially husky after a night of singing and sex. "You know me too well, Nick," she admits after a moment of consideration, rolling her head to the side to regard the shaded face of the promoter. "It was a good night, though, wasn't it."

"It was an excellent night." Nicholas pronounces each word as though they deserved their own pedestal. "I never expected it to be anything less. You are an oasis of sweet water in the middle of this depressing, combat-boot-printed desert."

Corinne smiles, a genuine expression as far as anyone can tell. "You're a poet, Nicky. I'm glad you got your well-manicured little paws on that venue, too. I can see us doing some fantastic stuff with it."

"It's not the Palacio. But it'll do." Nicholas reaches the tip of his pinky under the corner of the sunglasses, lightly rubbing the very edge of his right eye. "I've got to come up with something different to do with that place than Serendipity. Nothing chases an audience away faster than the same old."

Corinne makes an assenting 'mmm' sound as she swivels her head back, reclining further in the deck chair. "So long as I still get to showcase there from time to time." Maybe she's a little disappointed that he's not going to rename it 'Corinne's'.

"Corinne. Sweetheart." Nicholas now rolls his head towards her, eyes still hidden behind the black lenses. "Any other act I put in that place will be there for one reason. To give a hungry crowd a snack to tide them over until the true entree is served."

Corinne smiles again, quite appeased. She shimmies herself up against the back of the reclining deck chair and gets as comfortable as she pleases. It takes her a moment to care that she is dangerously close to exposing more than merely upper thigh, and she takes her time in smoothing down the flimsy fabric of her slinky brown dress. "Did you hear the stripper getting political last night?" she asks after a moment.

"Is that what that was? 'Politics'?" Nicholas says the word as though it were a handkerchief he was pinching between his fingertips. "I don't think the lady much likes her military boys. Managed to find herself a Marine with a heart of gold, from what I heard." He smirks.

"I wasn't really listening to the words coming out of his mouth," Corinne admits, folding her hands on her stomach as she crosses one horizontal leg over the other. "He was pretty, though. And she was getting kind of emotional - what's her story, anyway? You said she came to the Destiny?"

"Mmmhmm." Nicholas slides the dark glasses from his face, folding them and sliding one earpiece into the collar of his shirt. "She was a passenger before everything got icky, or so says the old manifest. Gather she was in dance before this, or theatre or something like that…she won't give a straight answer and I don't particularly care. She's good."

Corinne makes a sound in her throat, something too feminine to be a grunt, but there's really no better way to describe it. "She's got a body on her, I suppose. Knows how to use it, and all that." Her head rolls in the direction of the bar, and she waves over a tropical shirted employee. "Bourbon. On the rocks." It's probably too early to start drinking yet, but Corinne has already made her aversion to the very idea of time known.

Nicholas makes a gracefully negative motion of his hand when the waitress gives him a questioning look. He shifts comfortably in his chair, crossing his feet at the ankles. "That's all that matters, Corinne. Do you have it and can you use it. She does, and she can." He idly picks something off his trouser leg. A thread, which gets flicked off to the side. "Doesn't seem like she has a clue what she actually wants out of this, but that's not my problem."

"No, it's not," Corinne agrees as she shifts her focus from retreating waitress back to Nicholas. "I don't know why I'm even bothering, wasting my time thinking about her, or what her motives may or may not be. But there's something… something." She squints, sliding her hands against the arms of the chair. "Something about her I don't like. You can fix it by telling me I'm better, though."

Nicholas turns his head, tilting his chin down as his gray eyes fix on her. He smirks. "Oh, my. What is this, kitten? A show of claws?"

One dark brow arches at a dramatic angle as Corinne angles her head to meet the first flash of gray she's seen today. "I never put mine away," she answers simply.

Nicholas chuckles, rolling his head back to look across the pool way. "There is absolutely nothing to compare. If I do find a shining star in her somewhere, your galaxies will be light years apart."

Corinne sighs, sounding content. "You sure do know how to please a woman, Nick," she mumbles wryly, settling back into that comfortable lounge.

Nicholas sniffs lightly. "And all those flyboys complain about how it's so tough."

"It is," Corinne replies, simply. "Sure, they know how to navigate a cockpit, but when it comes to finesse…" She wrinkles her nose. "If I could put your mouth on an eager Ensign just out of flight school. Oh, I'd be done for."

Nicholas wrinkles his nose, one shoulder lifting in a shudder. "How did you manage to develop a fetish for the inexperienced? They're so…messy."

Corinne smirks, folding her arms across her chest as she gives the leg on bottom a rest by crossing it over the other one. "You know how I just used the word 'eager?' It wasn't just a random adjective." She closes her eyes, head tilted towards the high ceiling of the deck. "There's something beautiful about the way I can get a twenty-two year old to pant, before he's even reached the doorknob of my dressing room. And when he's inside, he's willing to do… anything."

"There's just something so…" Nicholas makes a searching-for-word motion with his left hand. "About a man who runs after you acting like he wants to hump your leg. I don't know what I'm searching for, help me here. Repulsive?"

Corinne opens her eyes, and they narrow into considering slits as she turns her head to stare at Nicholas. "Repulsive? Nick, what, are you really that particular?" She looks him up and down, taking in every well-groomed, fashion-minded inch, then holds up her hand. "You really don't need to answer that. I don't expect you to understand, you're not a woman pushing forty. When you are, you can be as critical as you want about how I like my meat rare."

Nicholas gives her a sweet smile when she backs off her own question, then says, "Would it help if I claimed I felt close to you deep down in spirit? And that I secretly hate you because I know I could never make that black and white dress look so good?"

"Yes," Corinne answers haughtily, facing forward again. "I assumed that was it, anyway. I always assume jealousy, because there's usually no other possible explanation." Her bourbon finally arrives, and she takes it from the waitress with a distracted nod.

"That's actually the wrong term," Nicholas raises a finger, glancing at her. "Jealousy is the desire to keep what you have. Envy is the desire to get what you don't have."

Corinne's brows arch as she takes the first fragrant sip of her drink. Lowering the glass to the arm of the chair, she licks the residual moisture off her lips and smiles. "Well, 'envy' does have a nicer ring to it, anyway. It's such a pretty word. Feminine and sharp. Thank you, my clever little word-worm."

"It's central to what I do." Nicholas smiles at her. "Envy. It is a pretty little word, isn't it. I wonder if I could come up with a show around that…"

Corinne laughs, the sound made all the throatier by the path the bourbon has burned. "Oh, I don't doubt that you could. This ship is a veritable breeding ground for it. You'd at least have a lot of resources to pull from."

Nicholas' eyes flicker upwards, a slow and subtle roll. "I know, part of me thinks it'd be too easy. Do something like that in a strip club and every particle of subtlety gets lost amidst the panting."

"Don't do it in the strip club," Corinne suggests with a lift of her shoulders against the back of the chair. "Not that I have any alternatives to propose. You're the one with the sexy brain, I just have the voice and the legs."

Nicholas smirks. "Thank goodness you're the one keeping us in business."

"Mm." Corinne sips from her bourbon again, the glass drained to half-empty in record time. "Whatever would you do without me." Her tone is flat, she's been in the business long enough to know that really, anyone can be made into a star. Or whatever it is she is, on the cruiseliner adrift.

"Settle for less," Nicholas replies, with a pleasant smile. "And you know how I detest doing that."

Corinne smirks. "The day I see you settle, Nick, is the day I know I've lost you." She turns her head and gives him as much of a fond expression that her jaded eyes can manage.

Nicholas snorts, reaching up to run his fingers through the side of his dark blond hair. "So how are those dressing rooms at Spotlights, anyway? Roomy enough?" There's a cheeky twinge in his voice.

"Terrible," Corinne complains, lifting her half-empty bourbon to signal that she would like another one soon, thank you. "It's not so much a dressing room as it is a multi-purpose storage chamber. The bar is classy, but the illusion stops the second you cross the threshhold into backstage."

"Well." Nicholas folds his hands across his waist. "Then it's a good thing you don't do much in there that requires lighting."

Corinne smirks, uncrossing her legs to swing them over the side of the chair. "And, I suppose, it makes for some creative surfaces." She stands, pulling down the hem of her short dress to smooth things out aesthetically. "I need to go… discuss something with Serge." Or show him the back of her hand at a very intimate distance. "I'll see you later?"

Nicholas slides his sunglasses off his T-shirt collar, unfolding them. "Don't you always?" They're slid comfortably onto his face and he rests his head back again.

"I'll just call you Old Faithful," Corinne answers, loathe to leave without being the one to say the last thing. The waitress is approaching with a fresh glass of bourbon, so she quickly knocks back what's left in her current glass and makes the trade. "Nick's got it. He's sweet," she says, gesturing towards the promoter. And with a swish, she moves off.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License