Open Mic at the Temple II

[Martha Villiers]

The Midtown Temple was hosting another Open-Mic Evening!

It seemed to attract an odd crowd and the management hoped that sales of pie, cake and assorted beverages might climb the charts tonight.

For the moment though, it was relatively quiet, for a night with an open mic set up. It was the third Open-Mic Night at this Dutch-styled coffee shop.

Open Mic night!

It was something guaranteed to grab Martha's attention. Armed with a few decks of cards in her satchel...just in case the Muse takes her to show a few card tricks...she once again makes her way to see what's on at the Temple!

Tiny Martha limps into the Temple and looks around...trying to see whom is around...trying to identify the background music...tonight's choice seemed elusive and she failed to place it.

While she studied the location of fire appliances and exits, she suspected the music was probably Lorde or Lykke Li.

Martha is neatly attired in her usual modest English school uniform: a neat straw boater, a black blazer...a pair of scholarly...yes, she'd admit it..."Hipster" style...spectacles are perched daintily on the end of her nose, she wears a long gymslip which shows her legs to mid calf...her raven black hair is tied into two very long twin tails, each with the red ribbon bows.

A swift glance would reveal that most of her left leg is obviously a C-Leg prosthetic. She wears a white kneesock on her flesh leg and a pair of carefully polished black Oxford pattern shoes, a crisp white blouse is obvious where the Edwardian style gymslip reveals it, as is her red necktie tucked neatly into her gymslip. She wears a useful looking school satchel and carries a simple metal walking cane. Though smelling of minty toothpaste and lemonade, she's shunned more obvious cosmetics.

She emits no Beast but and has invoked her Blush of Life.

Her petite presence may seem almost palpably sweet and innocent.

Limping over to the counter she offers the counter-clerk a shy, even gentle, smile and inspects the menu and again scouts the place for exits, fire appliances and smiles to Dal...

-1 Vitae for Blush of Life

[Chrisie]

Smiling and clearly delighted to be here, she nodded to Dal. It was meant to be her treat to him, but he offered and she wasn't about to make a scene by blocking his schemes.

"Ah! Indeed! A coffee and cake! Thank you! Thank you kindly!" she whispered with excitement.

Her pigtails wobble as she nods her consent.

One of the three serving staff, to judge by the name badge this lady's known as Nikki, catches Dal's eye and comes over to see what help he needs...

[Dillon Connery]

Already there, in a window seat from which he would normally be able to view his car in the parking lot, sits Dillon Connery. Except Dillon didn't bring his car tonight. Ye olde habits die hard.

The Blush of Life shows his youth as it was when President Lincoln was assassinated. A twenty-four year old man of fair appearance and great strength, with more war and violence behind him than most men twice his age. Something of a timeless quality reflects in his hazel eyes, a detached knowing or wisdom that regularly enthralls mortals he deals with. Even before nearly fifteen decades of Requiem, Dillon looked both old and young at the same time. So it's nothing new.

Setting aside all thoughts of past affairs, bloody conflict, failure, and heartache, the Gangrel Reeve still finds it easy to smile. While he doubts that he will stand up and participate-- well, you never know-- he can't resist at least coming to watch such a spectacle. He knows a few other people who might be drawn to this sort of thing, and doesn't look at all surprised when one of them shows up.

With an 'Open Mic', literally almost anything would go. Stand-up comedy routines, magic shows, song and dance... possibilities limited only by the imagination of the patrons in attendance.

Thoughts turn back again, to Alice Brown organizing a paintball quickdraw duel on stage at The Ember. And once more, Dillon's smile widens.

Dressed simply in a pristine white button-down and blue jeans, with heavy Doc Marten boots and sleeves rolled up to the thickness of his forearm, Dillon is slightly preoccupied with scrolling through something on his phone. But he spares Martha a raise of the hand and a bit of a wave. Now the smile is a beaming grin.

His other thumb scrolls away at the phone.

A song, with or without accompaniment. That will be his weapon of choice to wield against the audience's critique. Not original, sure. But solid.

Something classy.

Beyond the Sea? Mack The Knife? My Way? Unforgettable?

There are many tough choices to whittle down, but he has some time still.

[Princess]

Who can resist the combination of music and puns that go right over people's heads? Clearly Mary Lee the Muse could not, as she strolled into the Open Mic with her new Epiphone guitar, in a short, slinky black dress that meant she was obviously here for business and pleasure. Well, she wanted it to mean that. And she also wanted the ring that Lou had given her last year to bring her luck from it's location on her right middle finger. Regardless, she intended to make an impression, and hopefully not just the usual one where people stared at her, mouths agape.

There were a couple people here, and they were cute enough, maybe even friendly looking, but she couldn't place whether she'd seen them before. That was probably because she'd met them while she was blitzed in an art gallery, and that whole evening was fuzzy.

She'd told Dominyk and Nevada Neige she'd be here, but she hadn't really pressured them to show up. She figured she could go it alone tonight.

[Michael Redfill]

Were Michael still alive, the Ranger position would have definitely given him a stiff neck and a buttload of small cuts and the like from spending that much time in the parks. Sometimes he even slept in the ground simply to avoid having to drag his undead ass back to his hovel close to morning.

I really need to get a decent place, because this is just pathetic. Some security, nice locale, space to get more stuff... It's stupid to be able to afford almost anything and have nowhere to put it.

The open mic event was a chance to chill out that he gladly took. The doctor arrives in his Porsche, wearing something appropriate. As he enters The Temple, Dillon's Beast hits him almost instantly, but by now it's more of a lazy greeting a wolf gives to a mutt. Like "I could kill you, you know. If I bothered to get up, but I won't, so you're golden".

Mike catches a waiter and orders green tea, and then walks over to his Reeve. Or tries to before he sees Mary. Being a Vampire himself he's seen his fair share of beautiful people but the woman can compare to the best of them. And beat most of them by having an amazing 'center of attention' vibe.

  Be polite, keep jaw from dropping

Date		Action		Roll		Result
2014-02-04 11:54:00		Michael Redfill rolls 4 to be polite, don't stare (Pre + Soc) (10 Again)		7, 3, 8, 1		1 success

Still, no Beast so not Daeva.

As his eyes have already met hers the awkwardness needs to be smoothed over:

"Excuse me, Miss, I didn't mean to stare", - he smiles and bows his head slightly tucking the panflute case under his arm and waiting for some appraisal of the degree of his douchiness before going on to Dillon.

[Princess]

"I understand. It happens," Mary replies casually, as though dismissing a trivial fact. It wasn't forgiveness, but it wasn't judgmental, either, so he'd just have to settle for it. She had to settle for being constantly gawked at.

"What's that under your arm?" she inquires, adjusting the way the guitar strap hung around her as she was obviously pondering where to sit down.

[Michael Redfill]

Michael looks obviously relieved and eases up quite a bit when Mary asks about the case:

"Oh, this? It's a panflute", - he opens the case to let the girl peek inside if she so wishes, - "Have you ever seen one before? You must have heard it as it pops out more often than people think in modern music".

He sees her look around and motions at Dillon:

"Well, I'm going to go over to a friend now, you can join me if you wish. I've yet to hear someone call him boring or complain of his singing", - he bows his head slightly again and starts walking towards his Priscus, leaving it up to Mary to do whatever she wants. She is very beautiful but Michael knows by now that someone's looks aren't a guarantee they will bring something to a conversation. The guitar iis promising in that regard though - at the very least, they have music in common.

And he doesn't say anything about himself being interesting or musically inclined, because both those topics are still open for discussion.

[Princess]

And the Spring Muses obliges, nodding and following after to meet this friend of his - who might have her at a disadvantage, because she doesn't have enough tequila in her system to remember meeting @Dillon before. Assuming she is recognizable in her mostly sober condition, of course.

Taking care that her guitar never bumps into anything, she follows What's his name? Meh, whatever, over to the charming gentleman sitting down in his well-fitting business casual.