Silas had been out of town for quite a few weeks, but he was back. And he had decided to take a visit to The Howling Moon. Why? He wasn't sure. But why not. He patted down his black waist coat, pin striped trousers and white shirt and touched slightly to his face, feeling the slight cut across his cheek. His smile fell, but grew back as he stepped forward into the club.
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It's Amateur Night at the Howling Moon. To say the club is at half-capacity is a bit of a reach. Still, the patrons who are here know it's usually good to be drunk for this sort of thing, so the drink is flowing from the bar at a very reasonable pace. The tables closest to the stage are vacant, but the next row behind them has been occupied by various friends and family out to encourage the performers, whether they ought to or not.
The emcee is a young man whose classic good looks put Silas in mind of Ancient Greek statues. From this distance, you can't hear what he's saying to the thin, balding man who keeps pushing his rather large glasses back up the bridge of his nose while the emcee smiles and nods at him.
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Crawler wanders the streets nearby, as aimlessly as ever since his return a few days ago. He's dressed in simple and plain clothes, blue jeans and white t-shirt, the money he got access to on his first night the same help as always, and it doesn't matter to him that the persona he's copied has losthis job for not showing up, little matters apart from hiding.
But as he moves yet another dark street, keeping to the shadows, he sees a strange figure entering a brightly lit club, it seems too..fixed, too still, it reminds him of clockwork. For a moment thoughts of the Gentry run through his mind and he cowers back. He stares at the figure a little longer, thinking.
He wanted to know what to do, howtolive, maybe spying on another wouldhelp him realise.
Keeping a safe distance from the figure, he ducks through the doorway.
Jack Sevens steps into the club, and pauses for a second in the doorway. Modern bars were so different from the archaic taverns of the little port towns along the coasts of Arcadia. Or at least the part of Arcadia his keeper had transformed into an exotic land for his amusement. He had no way of knowing what Arcadia was really like, and his stories never sounded like the stories others told.
He heads straight for the bar, sits down lightly, and calls over the bartender. "Shot of rum to start with, keep." Jack lets all his weight rest on his elbows, but still looks anything but heavy.
((Can any of us make Perception checks to notice other Changelings? Or do we see them easily enough that a roll isn't required?))
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"Here you are," says the short woman behind the bar as she places the drink in front of Jak.
After a few minutes of chatting with the emcee, the nervous looking man stops touching his glasses. He stands a little straighter. He smiles as he looks over the club from his place off to the side of the stage.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," says the emcee as he steps onto the stage. His deep voice is very pleasant to hear, like ear-honey from the Hedge. "Welcome to Amateur Night at the Howling Moon. Our first comedian tonight is Gerald Listerbee. Please give him a round of applause, folks."
The emcee makes his way over to the bar and a glass of wine is waiting for him. "Thanks, Cindy," he says with a grin, then he turns to watch the comedian's set, which is hilarious. I mean, really funny. Like, even Gerald doesn't expect himself to be this funny. The emcee leans back as the club fills with laughter, looking rather blissed out.
Jack laughs lightly but enthusiastically as Gerald tells his last joke and leaves the stage. He had been laughing to hard to do so before, so he tosses back his rum now. He leans toward the emcee with a big smile. "You sure know how to pick 'em."
He leans back easily against the bar and takes in the now-happy crowd. As he does so, he notices a couple of freaks. Freaks, but freaks like him. He tries to catch their attention and wave them over the bar. Having done so, he turns back toward the bar.
"That's enough liquor for me. I'll have one of whatever's on tap. So... Cindy, right? Is amateur night always this funny? I thought this kind of thing was supposed to be painful." His face bears a big easy grin, and he takes a quick look over his shoulder to see if either of the other Changelings were on their way over.
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Cindy smiles at Jak. "It usually is, but he's so funny, don't you think? What did you say to him, anyway, David?" She leans over the bar towards the exceptionally handsome MC. Her cleavage hangs over her arms; they couldn't be any closer to the man's face without violating Public Decency laws. She also looks like she, frankly, doesn't give a damn about any Public Decency laws.
"He just needed a bit of confidence," he says with an easy smile and a wink that would make nuns tear off their habits and follow him into the woods at midnight, merrily playing panpipes the whole way. He turns to Jak. "Enjoying the show, are you?" he asks Jak with the same easy smile. He takes a sip of wine.
Jack makes a point not to look at the cleavage Cindy offers to the emcee. He takes a sip of his beer and gives a friendly laugh. "So far I am. You've got something special if you can give an amateur comedian enough confidence to be that funny with just a few words.
Where were the other Changelings? He looks over towards each of them and tries to make eye contact before turning back to the good-looking pair.
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