| Spotlights |
| Summary: | An evening at the hotel bar, after the Colonial Day pyramid game |
| Date: | 49 ACH |
| Related Logs: | Bros Versus Hos |
| Players: |
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Spotlights Carina - Pyr Hotel
49 ACH 6285 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.
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Eve comes in from Hotel Entrance.
Eve has arrived.
Eve gives a laugh as they step into the dimly lit bar, "You'll at least take off those sunglasses now?" She asks quietly, close enough to Micah to bump shoulders with him but not making any possessive grab for his hand or some other equal move. "So I can at least pretend I can see your eyes, in this awful lighting. On the plus side, I hear near pitch black is slimming.."
Astyoche comes in from Hotel Entrance.
Astyoche has arrived.
Chase comes in from Hotel Entrance.
Chase has arrived.
"I could, I suppose, since you asked so nice," Micah murmurs in reply. One arm of the sunglasses is gripped, and they're slid off his nose with a flourish. "Better?" His cheek dimples in a grin as he leads her away to a table not too far from the piano. Which, it seems, a young woman is settling down in preparation to play. There's even a dancefloor set up; it looks like Eve's in luck.
Astyoche follows the duet toward her hotel, and further still into the… the bar. She looks to her companion of the hour and extends a hand, "Astyoche, by the way." toward her 'date'.
Chase shakes the hand, lightly. "Chase Alderman. Deck tech. Nice to meet you, Astyoche," he replies in his amiable, anything-goes manner. Like her, he follows the others into the bar, ready to see what sort of drinking is available.
The way Eve's smile grows seems to indicate she approves, now that Micah's not hiding his eyes behing sunglasses. Of course, in here, he's likely to hurt himself were he to leave them on. She follows to the table, pausing to let Micah pull out her chair. Either she has high expectations, or she knows the man likes to open doors for her.
Maybe both. Though Micah sure doesn't seem the chivalrous sort. Chair pulled out, he waits for her to settle before easing it in again, and claims a seat opposite her. "Nice place," is remarked quietly as he fumbles for a menu. "Sort've.. film noir. I should have a bowler hat, and you should have a veil." He turns the silk-edged paper over in his hand, to peruse the drinks list.
Astyoche squeezes firmly, though not in the bone-crushing way for a moment, in that manner some mil-folks get after a while, "Likewise." She looks to watch Micah pull the chair out for Eve and she wonders, "Shall we then?" of her companion before stepping over their way.
Chase dips his head in reply. "Might's well," he agrees. "Seems like a good enough plan. Nice place. I'm surprised they didn't shoot me for trying to wear this shirt in here, it brings down the property values." Joke tossed out there, he goes over to grab a seat, not quite the practiced gentleman Micah is. He's a tech, they don't let him out much.
Eve settles down into the chair offered by Micah. Maybe its not him being a practiced gentlemen, but rather a show of possession. Likely Eve could have a field day trying to pick Micah apart, but blissfully, she doesn't seem to even think in that vein when it comes to him. "A veil, hmm? And perhaps gloves and smoking a cigarette on the end of one of those long black sticks. I always found those oddly appealing." She just ate a hotdog, surely she's not hungry, but she's picking up the menu anyways. "Maybe just some gramble juice for me." She murmurs, picking something decidedly non-alcoholic. "I love the piano…" Eve says, slightly distracted. "Any of you play?" She asks, directed at Micah first, before it sweeps out to encompass the other two.
"Never in my life," Micah answers without even looking up from the drinks list. The non alcoholic drink on Eve's part isn't quite registered yet; the pilot seems to be debating between a gin and tonic, and white wine. He does lift his eyes long enough to note the other couple's arrival however, and offer a curt nod of acknowledgement. He'll let Eve do the socialising.
Astyoche shrugs a touch and pulls out a chair for herself to settle in. She eases back in the seat and laces her fingers in her lap, "I'm afraid I don't, I never really had the time." Her shoulders rise and fall, "I could give it a shot, if you want to get us thrown out." There. She tries the funny.
Chase shakes his head apologetically. "I'm about as musical as a rock," he admits. "But I can nod appreciately as well as anyone, or snap my fingers like I know what I'm doing." He flashes a quick grin. "And let's not get kicked out until we've drunk a lot more."
Thankful for the lot of them, there's that woman who's sitting down to play and she starts tickling the ivories with some saucy sounding jazz tune. Its positively perfect to dance to, but Eve isn't going to nag Micah until as Chase has suggested, that more alcohol is consumed. "Its one of those things I always meant to learn…"
Micah seems to settle finally on the gin and tonic. Screw the wine. He shunts his menu in under Eve's, and then reconsiders and tugs it back out again. Why, yes, it's been a few hours now since he ate— and a pyramid game, to boot. Mind you, they've had to scale back even here, in terms of what can be served, but any food's got to be better than mess hall fare. "I used to do karaoke on sundays," he confides in the group. Or more likely in Eve, with an audience. "That.. is about the extent of my musical prowess." A waitress comes by to take orders, then.
Chase hmms. "I always thought about taking up the sax, myself. But so far, the timing just hasn't seemed right. And no one appreciates an untrained sax player, either. You get things thrown at you."
There's a laugh bubbling off Eve's lips at the mental image of Micah getting up with a microphone in front of a drunken crowd. Immediately, she's adding this to the mental list of how he got that scar, though one of these days she'll ask for the truth, but for now, its fun to conjecture. "We should track down one of those machines. Hook it up in the lounge and see if we can get the Colonel to sing.. yeah? The Saxophone?" She's easily able to split focus, including everyone in the conversation, though it seems her primary focus is on Micah of course.
Pepper comes in from Hotel Entrance.
Pepper has arrived.
Salin comes in from Hotel Entrance.
Salin has arrived.
Orders are placed for Micah and Eve, and the rest deferred to their tablemates, as the waitress begins jotting things down. "Ah'm sure we could find one, somewhere on this ship. Trick would be, gettin' the XO to sing." The viper jock lifts his eyes, and watches Eve for a time while she's busy querying Chase. And then his precious pack of cigarettes is brought out, and grudgingly offered around.
Asty looks between her companions for a few moments, trying to decide what to say to add to the icrebreaking, but, she's coming up awful short on topics. Most of hers would be… awkward, or quickly become so in short order. When the waitress turns ehr way, she softly requests, "Tea, please, as is." before Micah's remark draws her attention, "The XO?"
Chase nods solemnly in response to the question. "I was told that woman dig a well-played saxophone. And that there's nothing quite like a well-played saxophone. Luckily, what I can do is nothing like it." Aha. A joke. Shrug. He orders a beer when the opportunity comes, shaking his head when the cigarettes are offered.
Pepper steps into the Lounge on Major Salin's arm, smiling broadly, brilliantly, even. She looks quite happy in a new red dress and shoes - something that's not her uniform. "Ahhh, here's where all the people went," she tells the JAG, grinning up at him. "I was afraid everything was done for the day."
Lifting his free hand, Salin brings it upwards to settle upon the arm that's linked through his and he moves with Pepper into Spotlights. A brief look around and then he's looking over towwards her, "Figured there would have had to have been some people still around. They couldn't all have disappeared." A quick smile and he's motioning inwards, "Table or booth?"
Evelyn never really smokes, but as Micah offers the cigarettes around, she's still taking one from the pack with a pinch of her fingers. She holds it to her nose, smelling the tobacco as if it were a fine cigar. Hair worn loose today, she has to shift it aside to tuck the cigarette behind one ear. "Well, its just a matter of providing the right social lubricant, ala some Ambrosia. And finding a song he can't help but want to sing. Its an amusing notion, anyways. And Chase here, could play backup when we need to clear the room." Aha, she's capable of joking back.
Shem comes in from Hotel Entrance.
Shem has arrived.
Pepper Peters is decidedly out of uniform and on the arm of the Genesis JAG. She looks around the club for a moment, then up to the man next to her. "A booth, I think," she says quietly. "That way we can look around and relax."
Micah's the last to select a cigarette from his own stash, and he sets to lighting it when Eve tucks hers away for later. "Sounds like you've got it all planned out," he murmurs, grin nearly obscured by the smoke exhaled through his nose. "You're only missing a crucial ingredient: who t'blame, when 'e comes lookin' for the ringleader." Drinks arrive in short order, and he's tugging his closer with two fingers. "Aye," he replies to Astyoche, a little after the fact. "Colonel Fotilas." A pause, and a subject change. "How's civilian life treatin' you?" So he's making an effort at being social, anyway.
Another smile is offered to Pepper and Salin is giving a nod of his head. His hand lifts from her arm and he's motioning towards a booth off to the side, which he's angling to lead her towards. Reaching, he pauses and allows for her to be seated first, "And to drink?" His voice has been lowered a touch, "A glass of wine, or would you prefer something else?"
Chase chuckles,just a little, and nods. "Clearing the room, that seems like the sort of thing right up my alley." He watches and listens as Micah addresses Astyoche, hoping to learn some more about the people he's semi-randomly ended up with. But he does spare a moment to eye the newly-arrived couple, head dipped appreciately at Pepper's choice of outfit.
Astyoche grins a bit and nods, "That could be something to see." she intones musingly where she sits with Micah, Chase and Eve. She shrugs, "It's… fair. How are things in the fleet?" she counters.
Shem enters from the outside, accompanied by a Marine wearing an MP brassard. They have uniforms, pistols, and serious looks. Looks like it's the shore patrol. The lieutenant mutters something, and the MP detaches away, maneuvering through the establishment and giving each face a looking-at.
"Wine, yes," Pepper tells Salin quietly as she settles in, carefully - and yes, a little awkwardly - smoothing her skirt as she sits. Chase and the others at his table get a warm smile before she looks back up at Salin. "I wonder if they're serving something other than eel tonight?" She catches sight of Shem and her eyes go just a little wide before she snaps her attention back to Salin, a little suddenly.
Well Martial law is what it is, and its times like these when you're just focused on having a good time. A good clean /lawful/ time. Nothing to see here, as far as Eve is concerned, no rules really broken as she's making eyes at Micah and not at the enlisted man sharing her table. Her fingers curl around her glass of red juice, minus any delicious alcohol. "That's easy, Micah. You just always point at the lowest ranking person in the room." She smirks, then listens to Astyoche's answer, her gaze wandering to Salin and Pepper out of friendly curiousity, and after a nod is given, nothing more for the moment.
Catching a server's attention, Salin murmers something softly and with a nod, the server departs. Then, he's slipping into the seat across from Pepper, his hands coming to rest, clasped, atop the table. A soft laugh is offered at the mention of the eel, and he's nodding his head, "Yes, they do." Then, a brow is arched at her the widening of her eyes. Looking over in the direction of Shem, he lets his gaze rest there for a moment before the brow lowers and he looks back to Pepper.
Nothing to see here, move along. Micah, consciously or unconsciously, hunkers a little lower in his chair when he spots the S2 making a sweep through the establishment. Not like he's done anything wrong, y'know. "Good," is his dead-end reply to Astyoche's question. Talk about a master of conversation. He resumes smoking, with only a cursory glance given the Ensign in a red dress, and the JAG accompanying her.
Yeah. That didn't work so well, did it? As Micah tries to vanish into the seat cushions, Tyo turns to look out toward the probably MP that would prompt such a familiar response, "Ok, so who did it?" she asides to her companions.
Chase blinks as he catches sight of the shore patrol, making a face. But his conscience is clean, so he just relaxes and focuses on having fun. Well, as much as he can given the circumstances, company, and so on. "Wasn't me," he deadpans. "I never leave any evidence."
Pepper's lips twitch just a little as she looks at Salin, apparently doing a bit of the silent communication bit. After a moment or three, though, she relaxes back against the seat and smiles over at Eve, dipping her head once. "Have you eaten," she asks her table companion, sitting an appropriate distance from him, her own hands folded on the tabletop.
After giving the MP a minute head start, Shem walks fully into the lounge, picking through. Who knows where he'll show up?
Eve is perhaps rethinking her choice in drink, for she has yet to actually drink from it. Instead, she just pokes at the floating ice with one of her nails, turning it into sort of a game, for the time being. "I'm sure its just a standard patrol. In case we spontaneously break out into a fist fight. Or.." Her lips twitch back into a smile, "..a saxophone solo." Her gaze lifts to Micah's face, studying it and the way his piercings seem to catch the dim light and reflect it.
If Salin appears at all worried about the appearance of the S2 or the MP that accompanies him, he gives no indication as such. Rather, his gaze seems to be remaining on Pepper and the smile returns to his lips as he gives a slight shake of his head, "Shy of a hotdog during the game, I havn't." A pause. "How about you? Would you like something to eat?"
Micah, on the other hand, seems fascinated with the pattern the smoke is making when exhaled slowly. He's probably dimly aware of the stilted conversation, but appears unbothered by it. "You want that dance?" he asks abruptly, after Eve's spoken and turned to watching him. He's barely touched his drink, but maybe making a fool of himself on the dancefloor's preferable than having to smalltalk.
Chase adds, "Or both at once. Fist fights and sax solos. I think that might have potential." Shrug. "That would be one of the most exciting leaves I've had in ages. And much better than the time with the monkeys and the showgirls."
MP's have been something of a fact of life for Tyo, understandibly enough, though, unless this one does the recognition and reach for the beatin' stick thing, she'll dismiss him as an issue. She turns back to her tablemates and squares herself away, "A duet might be…" and Chase speaks, she trails off to regard him, a brow arching. Monkeys?
Pepper dips her head to Salin, brushing her now-unbound hair back behind her ears. "Starving, actually. I had three manifests to go through this morning, then another dozen or so reports this afternoon before I came down. As I mentioned, things kept…popping up on me every time I wanted to sneak down for the festivities."
Eve gives a laugh to what sounds like the start to an interesting story, but she has a more important quarry in her sights. Saint Germain and his sudden willingness to dance with her. "Absolutely." She breathes more than speaks the word, scooting back her chair with a slight hint of eagerness. "You'll excuse us?" She asks Astyoche and Chase quietly, purely as a curtesy, for the question seems rhetorical.
There's a faint chuckle and Salin is giving a brief nod, "No doubt, that's the handy work of the Old Man." Lips give way to a grin and when the server returns with two glasses of wine, he's lifting a hand to indicate that he should stay. Then, his eyes settle back on Pepper, "What is your meal of choice, this evening? They serve just about anything .. just, don't order eel."
The spook arrives at Salin and Pepper's table, trailing behind a faceless couple. "Evening," he mumbles tonelessly. It takes two glances for him to come to a decent conclusion about the story.
Chase nods to Eve. "By all means. You two wacky kids, go dance, have fun, show the rest of us how it's done," he says amiably. "Believe me, you wouldn't want me out there trying to dance."
Micah takes another drag of his cigarette, extinguishes it, and sets it aside to be (probably) finished later. A healthy swig of gin and tonic then, to boulster his confidence, and the viper jock mouths 'wish me luck' to his other tablemates before climbing to his feet. There's smoky jazz being played, nothing quick that's likely to tangle up his two left feet.
Pepper reaches out for her wine glass, laughing quietly at Salin's words. "No, no eel," she tells him, eyes twinkling. "I'm actually thinking about a fresh salad. I've been craving fresh foods, fruits and vegetables. There's been enough processed food to last me a lifetime." A pause. "But I'm grateful to have that much. Please don't get me wro…" Ahhh, Shem. Pepper finally catches sight of him again and she smiles, dipping her head to the man. "Good evening, Sir," she says, eyes bright and looking like the young woman she is. "Are you enjoying the festivities?"
Astyoche bows her head, "Enjoy." she says softly as Micah and Eve set about to get jiggy wit'it. She hrm's quietly and reaches for her tea as she looks to Chase, "Monkeys, and showgirls, hmm?" While Micah's silent enreaty warrants a sly thumb's up from the ex pilot.
Claiming his own glass, Salin lifts it upwards in a silent toast to Pepper as he gives another nod of his head. Unfortuantely, he doesn't have a chance to reply, for she's cut off and addressing the spook. Slowly, his head turns to regard the man and he's giving only the slightest of nods, "Lieutenant."
Eve smiles warmly as she circles around the table to Micah, offering out a hand for him to take while they walk the short distance to the dance floor. "Just remember. This is about you and me. And no one else. Who cares if anyone else thinks we can dance. /I/ think we can dance." She murmurs. Afterall, with this music, its more of just a creative sway.
There's only so jiggy one can be, when the oxymoron that is Marine Intelligence, is breathing down peoples' necks, and one has to dance with only minimal alcohol consumption. "Yeah, yeah," Micah murmurs to his erstwhile dance partner, shedding his jacket before he reaches for Eve's hand. "Because you're out of your mind. Beautiful, but out of your mind.." Their conversation trails off as he draws her with him to those swirling lights and fabricated mist.
Shem doesn't seem particularly fond of Salin, and he returns the slight nod. "Sir." His purpose seems to be Pepper. "Time of my life, ensign. Please call me at the marine offices in the morning when you have some time."
And Pepper's expression becomes only slightly consternated. "I wish I could, Sir," she tells Shem, deferentially. "However, my CO has directed that I assist in another office for the forseeable future." She glances sidelong at Salin and seems a bit nervous, perhaps?
Ever so casually, Salin lifts his glass to his lips, taking a small sip of the wine before he's lowering it back down. There's a sidelong look to Pepper and then he's returning his eyes to Shem. "Lieutenant, neither of us is in uniform, indicating we are both off duty. Go attend to your duties, which from what I recall, do not include idle socializing. Anything that you need passed along, can be done in the form of a memo and picked up when we return to duty." A pause and his brow lifts upwards, "Are we clear?"
When they're finally out in the middle of the floor, accompanied by a few other couples who are braving the social humiliation of public dancing, Evelyn slings her arms around Micah's neck. She's not even hesitating to hold him close, afterall, they're both in civvies. Her in her black dress, and he in his newly gifted black shirt and jeans, they almost disappear into the shadows before the swirling lights find them again. Whatever she says now, is murmured into his ear.
Shem arches an eyebrow at Salin. "Crystal, sir. I'll let you know if I'm socializing." He adds to Pepper, plainly, "That shouldn't present a conflict. I'll be expecting that call."
Eve whispers: Thank you. You're not so bad yourself, you know.
Kyrios hasn't noticed the Lt. She, in fact, is waiting on the Decker's story, or dismissal about this alleged escapade that would involve showgirls AND monkeys.
Micah is awkward. But this is to be expected. He isn't sure where to put his hands, but settles eventually on Eve's waist. It's a nice spot, a soft spot, and it won't look to the S2 like he's groping her much. Voice low, he answers whatever she murmured to him with a little quirk of his lips.
Ramiro comes in from Hotel Entrance.
Ramiro has arrived.
Eve senses: Micah chuckles softly. "They don't pay me for my looks." No, they pay him to kill things, where a man in his right mind would run, not walk away.
Eve is merely just shifting her weight from side to side, a little sway mostly keeping in time to the music and Micah's own movements. If they were holding each other at arm's length, it'd be like they were back in middle school at their first girl/boy birthday party. But surely they don't look /too/ bad. One of her hands begins to absently toy with Micah's hair at the base of his neck, still damp from his shower after the game.
You sense: Eve smiles slyly. "No, they pay you to fly. And poorly at that. Maybe if they /were/ paying by looks, you'd be able to support me and I could give up my petty life of crime."
Stepping in alone, Ramiro has never been in this club. Stopping near the door, he looks over the surroundings before heading to the bar by himself. Checking the watch around his wrist, he speaks to the bartender who then, in turn, brings him a mixed drink. Rum and cola.
Whatever the Lieutenant's muttering to him, it prompts a sharp bark of laughter from Micah. Genuine laughter, not the kind that's at someone else's expense. Emboldened perhaps by the woman's ineffable sense of humour, he loops an arm around her waist and sashays with her in a tight semi-circle that brings them facing the opposite way. Leaning in close, he whispers something softly to her again.
Chase looks innocently at Astyoche. "Monkeys and showgirls. I had leave on Caprica the one time, and went drinking with some engineer friends. To this day, some of it's still a blur… and I don't know how the monkey ended up wearing the general's insignia."
Eve senses: Micah murmurs, "There somethin' you've not been tellin' me, sir?" The 'sir' is almost purred.
Eve leans back slightly from Micah, a quizzical expression clear on her features, but that soon cracks with another smile. Whatever is said in response, has a laugh peppering it.
Pepper just blinks at Shem for a long moment then looks up at Salin, as if for confirmation of something. "Of…of course, Lieutenant," she says, voice low and quiet. Then she sips her wine. The wine's safe.
You sense: Eve pauses for a moment, as if her mind blanked and something nagging is trying to claw to the surface. Perhaps even she doesn't know what that 'something' is, and so when she responds with laughter, its more crime jokes. "At night, I've been dressing up as a giant arachnid, and slinking into people's berthings, going through their lockers and stealing anything of value. Namely shoes. Size Thirteen." Not that she wears that size, mind you.
Better story than some she's got. Anyway, Tyo nods, a slightly disbelieving cast to her expression, "That must have been one hell of a party." she comments urbanely.
The pause and the lean away, garner a curious look from Micah in return. This time, when she leans close to murmur to him, he loops both arms around her. Escape prevented. Hah! "I knew it," he mutters to her, almost audible to the people dancing near them as his bristly cheek rests against her head. She, luckily, is the perfect height with which to do so.
Chase nods solemnly to Astyoche. "No photographic evidence has ever surfaced to embarass any of us, but from all accounts, fun was had by all. How about you? Any wild times in your past?"
Eve gives a soft muffled giggle, her face tilted to press into his collar. There's a flush to her skin, probably all that synthetic mist getting to her and the warmth of the other bodies on the dance floor. Her lips are moving, apparently continuing their quiet conversation, while they dance slowly to the music.
You sense: Eve laughs quietly. "Now you know the awful truth, and I'm afraid I can't let you live to retell the…" She swallows hard. "…the tale." She leans back from him, "Hmm. I'm not feeling terribly well."
Ramiro's eyes scan the area, including the dance floor. Spotting Micah and Eve, he smiles quietly and turns back towards the bar. Speaking quietly with one of the bar patrons nearby for a moment, he slides onto one of the stools and takes a few moments to relax after the action of the day.
Something Eve's said captures and holds Micah's attention, this time. No longer dancing, he eases his hold on her just a smidgeon, without actually releasing her. Fingers brush through her unbound hair, exposing an ear for him to murmur into.
Micah doesn't, as of yet, spot Ramiro. He's a tunnel vision kind of guy.
Astyoche smiles awkwardly, "A couple…" she returns softly. Not really feeling like going into -that- story again, she decides to dig into one a little further back, "There was a time on leave with a bunch of sticks from the Nike, and Pegasus, and we ended up in this…" her hand rolls languidly twice as she tries to find a suitable phrasing, "…pit on Scorpia…"
Eve senses: Micah's voice takes on a concerned, and ever so slightly aggressive tone. "What's wrong?"
Eve's arm slips down from around Micah's neck, pressing into her side. She's giving him a bit of a feeble smile, responding quietly.
Eve whispers: Just…don't think that hotdog sat right. I should have known better than to try it. I'm sorry, hon…do you think…think I can get a rain check on this dance?
Chase tilts his head at Astyoche. "Pit?" he asks. Clearly, he's trying to imagine just which sort of pit she means. And whether or not gelatin, oil, or mud was involved in the process.
Micah's eyes flit over Eve lightly. It's an asessing look, not a lascivious one. Nodding slowly, he murmurs a reply and begins leading her off the dancefloor, with a detour back to their table. To fetch his jacket and anything she might have left there, of course. "You both have a nice night," is mumbled to Chase and Astyoche.
You whisper, "Absolutely. But, ah'm taking you to the clinic. No ifs, ands or buts." to Eve.
Shem departs from Pepper and Salin's table, disappearing back into the crowd. Of course, not before he does some more glancing.
Eve is looking a little pale by the time they make the side trip to the table, so its clear they're not running off for terribly fun, especially when she's muttering protests about going off to the clinic. Then, "Sorry, good night you too. Seems the festivities are over." And with that, she's being ushered out by Micah.
She's Scorpian, all three isn't out of bounds. Astyl;s thoughtful expression gets tinged with a grin, "There was a jay jee off of Pegasus who was… drooling all over the place about this one waitress that was bouncing around the tables. Well, but this point we were probably on, oh… the fifth or sixth round…."
Chase leans forward, elbows propped on the table as he forgets about his beer for the moment. He watches Astyoche as she spins her yarn, looking interested. "Go on," he says. "This sounds promising."
Jackets and coats are collected, and Micah's slinging an arm around Eve like she's suddenly become an invalid. Overprotective much? "Dane," he greets briefly in passing, though doesn't stop to chat. Out they go.
