Last Night

[CyledyrWyllt]

MarcusSuit2.jpg

The black stretch limousine Marcus had rented for Rick's last night as a free man pulls up in front of the Lily and drops its occupants off at the door of the swanky cigar lounge. The metalflesh is wearing a tasteful jacket over a crisp, ivory oxford. It's not his usual attire, but then, it's a rather special evening, isn't it? Once inside, he makes himself comfortable in one of the larger booths and orders the first round for the entire party. Once everyone has settled in, Marcus pulls Rick aside under the pretense of needing his help with choosing a cigar.

"Alright, mate. Terri's a wonderful bird. You're a very lucky man. And, she's a very lucky lady. Now, that said... this is your night. You do whatever you want, and I'll make sure no one gives you any trouble, alright? Anyone does give you any grief, you just give me the sign. I'll take care of it."

Marcus pantomimes a particular series of gestures. Once he's certain Rick understands the sign, he slaps his fellow elemental on the back and chooses a couple of cigars for them before returning to the booth. Once they are comfortably puffing on their cigars and sipping their expensive drinks, Marcus concentrates on his connection with Metal and examines each of his companions. He pays particular attention to the presence of any cameras or cellphones, and prepares himself to keep track of where they are at all times for the rest of the evening, intending to disrupt their operation at a moment's notice. When he's finished, he raises his glass.

"Here's to Rick. Congratulations, mate. Tonight is your night."

After a few round of drinks at the Lily, the group stumbles back into the limo and is dropped off at Club Ember. Although there is a bit of a misunderstanding at one point, the less said about it, the better. In the end, a good time is had by all, and they somehow make their way to The Forge. After a boisterous time at Spartan's club, those left standing are led to Harry's for last call amongst the rest of the dregs of the night's revellers. Although Marcus has the strong impression that he had gotten into a fight somewhere along the way, he's in no shape to remember any of the specifics. After ordering one last round for himself and Rick, he drapes his arm over his friend's shoulders for a final heart-to-heart.

"Yeah... Terri's one lucky lady. You want to know why? Do you? Because I'm not the best man. You're the BEST MAN. That's why. The best. Iloveyoumate. You're my best mate."

Please continue to post other Bachelor Party Glimpses in this scene.

[Nightfall]

The timing could have been better. Months of increasing distance between him and Alice had left Nightfall confused and hurt, and the opportunity to forget about it for a night was a welcome distraction. Even if he still wasn't sure what he'd call his and Rick's relationship, Terri was a dear friend and Marcus was... Marcus.

It only took three drinks before he decided to adopt the Meltalflesh's accent.

It took two more before he told Rick he'd kick his ass if he ever did anything bad to Terri. Fortunately, it was in Russian, and he was fairly sure the Autumn King had thought it was a toast. They'd all drank to it, anyway.

He still wasn't sure if Sam hit him after asking if the Dusker had 'gotten wood' from doing a body shot off of a stripper, or after his 'bush on bush' comment during the lap dance he'd gotten Sam. Either way, clearly the man did not like blonds.

He hoped Marcus never found out it was him who was paying the girls to roll themselves in body glitter and parade by. The way his head had turned this way and that had given the group their very own disco ball, and it was all the Polychromatic could do to keep a straight face.

As they ended the night, Neil swam in the comfortable haze of a vodka buzz and looked around Harry's as he left, waving to Marcus and Rick.

Things changed. Things got better.

[Al-Adin]

Al-Adin learned a lot.
He learned that while alcohol (haha! it has a name now. Besides potion of Slow) does slow people down, it makes them happy. Which set off a huge internal debate about whether or not to drink any, which slowly became an external debate as his coke seemed to get rum every time he wasn't looking. He finally decided he shouldn't have any, and should stick to his coke. Yummy coke.

He learned about girls, and all the things that sound really icky but really interesting at the same time. And he learned why all the guys would get sort of distracted at Ember when he went there with Lily. Huh, Lily. Wonder what she's up to now?

And finally, Al-Adin learned about hangovers. Hangovers make your tummy hurt, your vision funny, and it makes running really really hard. And jumping from tree to rooftop ends up with tree to window. Unfortunately, the little girl was already up watching cartoons when the dissheveled man crashed through her window. Her screams, combined with the broken glass, made Al-Adin all sorts of pain.
"Sorry!" He caled back as he lept away, paying very very close attention to what he was doing as he fled from the house.

[Lesingnon]

He hadn’t quite expected Marcus’s speech at the beginning, but certainly appreciated it. It was the kind of thing that reassured him that he’d made a good choice for his Best Man. Though he had no idea how Marcus had come up with that sign, he probably wouldn’t even have been able to remember it if he hadn’t had to learn sign…and suspected that as the drinks piled up he wouldn’t be able to remember it anymore. But The Lily was good…scotch, he didn’t drink good scotch often enough. So he made sure to make the stuff he got there count.

Then came The Lily, where he did forget the signs Marcus had given him. After…he’d lost track of the drinks by then. But it was right before that awesome-sounding native toast Nightfall had given. He’d laughed when he’d seen Spartan getting a lap dance, vaguely recalling hearing somewhere that you didn’t get your money’s worth when you wore jeans to a strip club…must be downright scammed when you wore a suit of armor. And Al, heh, Rick wondered if any one else had ever needed a crash course on sexuality while at a Bachelor Party? But whoever figured out to use the phrase “run the base paths” to get him to pay attention was a genius…wondered if the kid would remember any of it the next morning.

Only problem with Ember was that he fucking sparkled like some wuss of a vampire when they left the club. Must’ve been from those lap dances. How’d the strippers get their hands on that much glitter?

At some point when they were in the Forge he’d tried to remember the signs. Got ‘em right, but shouldn’t have actually made them while trying to figure it out. Marcus’d been drunk enough to think Sam’s flask was a camera. Nightfall had been between the two, a couple other Summers had been nearby…fastest he’d ever seen a mosh pit get emptied of mortals.

Turned out Nightfall was right, too. It did kinda sound like a gong when Rook’s and Spartan’s heads collided. He never should’ve taken the Fairest up on that bet.

Then they went to Harry’s for the rest of the night. He spent most of their time there preaching to Sam about why the Dusk Courtier should stock Spotted Cow, the best damn domestic brew he’d ever had. At least, looking back, he was pretty sure he’d been preaching to Sam. But the Wizened had been unusually quiet and there were several short, gnarled barstools that bore more than a passing resemblance to the Woodblood once you’d had enough to drink.

Thankfully (and somewhat miraculously) his hangover the next day wasn’t nearly as bad as he might have expected…he wasn’t bent over the edge of the deck railing for one thing. So he just spent most of the morning lying in bed, waiting for the headache to subside. It gave him time to reflect upon the night. The drinking, the bullshitting with his friends, the women…Ember had a lot of very, very, attractive women. Some part of him noted that Crunk would probably be proud of that if he knew.

And it occurred to him…Bachelor Parties; supposedly the last hurrah, the last chance to get all the temptation that an endless parade of nearly naked women could throw at you before you had to get married and behave. But there hadn’t been nearly so much of that as might have been expected. Sure they were a bunch of gorgeous women…but none of them were Terri. Maybe that was the true point of a Bachelor Party…to remind you that, despite all the women that were out there, you’d found the one that was right for you.