Description: Kenshi meets Felicia in Cracker Jack's club for a discussion.
The club itself was no place special or that upscale--it was one of Cracker Jack's, likely. There were rumors around some of the strip clubs around town that there was a 'special' or maybe even a darkstalker babe working at one of the clubs. Not that such rumors got taken seriously by any authorities, exactly, but if you were looking for an 'exotic' time one probably didn't have too far to look. The interior was normal enough, there was a octagonal stage with a brass pole at the end of a catwalk style runway, neon lights flashing here and there around with tables and chairs setup around the room in a lounge style fashion.
Then Felicia came walking down said catwalk, (our tongues firmly in cheek here) she was wearing an assortment: tight-fitting pink G-string, matching barely there bikini top, a pair of high-heeled sandals, soles a half-inch thick and decorated with glitter--as well as lacy garter bands here and there around her ankles and thighs. That electric blue hair of her's was down around her shoulders and the whole place was riled up by her coming on stage.
For one who is truly willing to listen, the rumors of a darkstalker are not so easily ignored. Even if she is a 'Babe,' and even if she has been making a good life for herself as a stripper, such things should be investigated. It is often difficult to tell from a distance whether or not the darkstalker is being exploited, exploiting others, or if all is as straight forward as it seems.
So it is that when Felicia appears, strutting her stuff to the approving hoots and calls of many drunken patrons, that an obvious newcomer is standing quietly near the back of the octagonal stage. Positioned in a place where the braver of the touchy types might normally stand to get a close up look at the girls as they pass along the catwalk, the dark crimson blindfold he wears hints that this man has likely not come to gawk at the gorgeous cat girl.
If the stranger's only defining trait was to be blind, him being in a seedy strip joint such as this would be weird enough. But the obvious suit of black and crimson armor he wears, as well as the crimson-hilted katana on his back, serves to make him stand out even more.
Kenshi, the wandering swordsman, does not turn his head to follow Felicia's swaying tail as she passes. He stands quietly, face tilted slightly down, and rests one fingerless gloved hand on the edge of the stage. That is probably against the rules, but nobody has come out to stop him.
Not yet, at any rate.
As Felicia walked down the catwalk, she went about her routine, the tightly-bound string bikini being one of the first things to go--she can't but help notice the man in armor with the red silk blindfold that seems to cover the upper half of his face. This got her attention, and soon she strutted over to the man and squatted down, those white-furred gams of her's spread wide as she danced in place a bit.
"Oh hey there, come here often?" she asked a bit to the man, the lace-covered elastic garters at her thighs and ankles already bearing a variety of bills, mostly smaller notes "Not many guys come here looking for a show when they're blind... lemme guess, you want a lapdance?" she smirked, her tail helping to balance herself against the floor of the stage as she leaned back--her long legs and high-heeled feet reaching out to lightly prop against the man's shoulders, sliding her legs along the man's shoulder and face.
The blind man looks up, his covered eyes angled as if to gaze between the cat-girl's spread knees and study her pretty face. It is a position that most men would kill to be in, receiving such close up attentions by the sultry kitty. And, it is made even more so when she leans back, the soft touch of fur rubbing across his cheek as she lifts her calves up onto his armored shoulders.
"If only I had known that blindness had such perks." Kenshi comments just a touch dryly, his lips curving up in a quiet little grin. Lifting his hand from the stage he lightly runs calloused fingertips across Felicia's left ankle, head tilting curiously to one side. "I have come to talk to you. Now is not a good time?" The tone of his voice makes it clear that he knows it is not.
"I hear it heightens the sense of touch," Felicia grinned a little, apparently realizing this man is either there to speak to her directly or to kill her, and as flirty as she has been so far, he didn't seem to be taking the bait for the latter. She was right there, if he was going to attack her for some reason, he'd likely have done so already. "Might wanna join me after the show in one of the VIP rooms," she nodded, her soft-furred ankles and feet brushing past his chin as she retracted her heeled feet, getting back up onto the stage and continuing her act, getting more and more money thrown at her as she teases that thong of her's coming off--which it eventually does, after a decent enough cash is tossed her way.
After the show, the sound of clicking heels would be heard as she heads backstage, apparently heading to one of those 'private' booths in the back.
"All of my senses have been enhanced." Kenshi replies, the tall swordsman's semi-serious tone making it difficult to tell if he is flirting, or simply confirming what she has heard. Again there is a faint little twitch of his lips as the long legs are withdrawn from around him, his gloved hand dropping back to the stage and posture relaxed.
If he were a normal man he would probably have stared transfixed at the retreating cat girl, studying Felicia's swaying tail and the body behind it. But he is not, and so the gesture is likely lost on him.
Throughout the rest of her performance, the odd glance tossed in the swordsman's direction would reveal him standing there, gaze angled slightly away and blindfolded features difficult to read in the near darkness. No money is thrown from where he stands, no tips offered as the thong eventually comes off.
But when the show ends, and the cat girl makes her way back along the walk, the space he once occupied is empty. Instead, he is seated in a dim booth, head bowed and nimble fingers toying with a full glass of dark liquid as the blue-haired beauty makes her way into the VIP area. The sound of her clicking heels draws his attention, hidden gaze lifting to peer toward her as she approaches.
"They seemed to enjoy your dance." He offers, his tone calm and conversational.
The vip booth area is upholstered in the same reddish pink as some of the rest of the club, curtained off and containing stylized stuffed chairs of varying colors as well as black marble tables for setting drinks. Felicia had a bucket of ice brought to her's with a bottle of absolut vodka and a set of tumblr glasses, walking to the edge of the table before stripping her heels off. Her footsteps now of course made much softer, lighter slaps against the floor. She took out the bottle and poured a small amount into a glass--then filled the rest with orange juice, before swishing it around and gulping it down, apparently thirsty after her show.
"So, blind swordsman--I'm Felicia, but you probably already know that, if you've sniffed me out, what can I do for you?" she asks. She'd taken off the garters and other things, and is standing there in just her fur, really--sort of in the buff, but the placement of her fur rendered this more or less moot.
Ice clinks softly as the swordsman nudges his glass away with the tips of his fingers, the bubbly brown soda abandoned untouched in the center of the marble table. The stuffed chair he has chosen for himself is a crimson that nearly matches the splashes of color across his armor, but that is likely just luck. He couldn't have known, right?
"I am Takahashi Kenshi." He replies, leather creaking as he offers a little bow from his seat. His tone is mellow, full of a relaxed friendliness as he lounges back, sword trapped behind him. "I am here only to talk. I had heard there was a beautiful darkstalker who worked at this club, and came to make sure all is well. Places like this have a history of taking advantage."
It is then that the blind man shifts. If he had eyes, he would likely be meeting Felicia's now, the tilt of his chin suggesting that he is looking past her body, past her near nudity, and toward the soul within. Everything about him suggests a casual ease, despite the fact that he sits before the woman in a suit of armor, wearing what is probably a very real sword.
"They do," Felicia nodded a bit, to his comment about taking advantage. "Like, for example, you do know these booths are usually used for more ilicit things, right?" she watched him with one green eye, before tilting her head. She seemed like she'd had a good workout and there'd been sweat drying on her brow, reaching up to brush it off with the back of her hand.
"So... what's on your mind? you come here to warn me about working in places like this?" Felicia seemed to be puzzled by what he wanted. "It doesn't seem like you're too crazy for a lap dance, and you weren't exactly having too much fun during my show," she sheepishly grinned. "Do you just got a thing for darkstalkers, then?"
The mention of more private activities brings another of those faint grins to Kenshi's lips, a slash of white teeth showing before he clears the expression with a slow shake of his head. Resting his hands palm down atop the table, he curls the fingers inward, causing the steel reinforcements across his knuckles to gleam in the dim mood light.
"You seem to be happy here. The eyes of the crowd excite you, and the money is not bad." The swordsman says this with a quiet sort of conviction that is more than a guess, his even features set in an expression of easy contemplation. After a moment he continues, taking his time to answer the questions carefully.
"I do not think that a warning from me would be welcome. You are too independent, and I am a stranger. But..." he trails off for a moment, then lowers his hidden gaze down as if to look toward his armored knuckles rather than the sultry lady before him, "I am one who seeks justice, Felicia. A true warrior. You should be careful with those you make friends. You are not a bad person." These words are spoken with equal conviction, though what the man might know about her recent activities is likely unsettling. it is far beyond the bounds of what someone might bring up in a normal first conversation, and far from as fun as a kink for darkstalkers might have been.
"The money is okay--it /was/ great when I was down on my luck, back a year or so ago," Felicia sighed. Sorry moonlight society, but she couldn't go live in the woods and eat rabbits and things--a girl had needs, damnit. "You want justice, huh? I guess so, a guy going around dressed like that," she nods. "Not my preferred method of attaining happiness, but," she shrugged.
When he makes ominous remarks about the crowd she's been hanging with, well, she seems to get what he means. "Hey if you got problems with Cracker Jack go ahead, I just work at his club, I'm not obliged to back him up," she shook her head.
"Whatever you wanna do, I'm not gonna stop you, just don't ask me to give out information," she sat across from him, taking her drink.
"Justice is more than slicing evil doers in twain." Kenshi replies, his confident words filling with sudden, real amusement. Shedding the brief attitude of grim reflection he had adopted, the blind man casts an amiable look across the table at Felicia.
Turning his hands over, he clacks his knuckles against the marble and spreads his fingers wide, palms toward the ceiling.
"What is happiness to you, Felicia? What is it you want?" The question is earnest enough, the man's posture relaxed and open as he lounges back in his chair across from her. This is likely not the question that most people are asked while in these VIP rooms. At least, not in that tone.
"Being able to do the things I want--I wanna go on to bigger and better things after this--if attitudes towards my kind ever improve, movies, tv shoes, broadway, stage--you know, always wanted to do those things, but lots of actresses start out at places like this, not just darkstalker ones--" she shook her head again.
"Just because I'm a dancer here doesn't mean I'm a corrupt individual, I just had to learn how to play the game, is all, with some of these guys," she means guys like CJ, but she's not spelling it out.
"It's no big deal, you came here looking for someone then? You seem like you got a major beef with somebody," she turned her head back to him and stared at him gravely. Yeah, she could tell this guy was not happy.
The simple question from Felicia causes the amiable expression to fall from Kenshi's face . his lips press into a firm line, hands curling into loose fists as they rest atop the table. The reaction is not one of rage. he does not tense up and seethe with hatred. But there is suddenly something very grim, and very dangerous about the man sitting across from her. A lethal sort of stillness.
"All have enemies. I seek the one who blinded me. But I will not find him here." Kenshi's words are calm but full of hard emotion, that slowly relaxes as he finishes speaking. His fists unclench, hand reaching across the table to deftly lift the bottle of vodka. Stooped forward, he poises it above Felicia's glass, tilting his head in silent offer to refill her.
All with his eyes covered.
"If you like, I could help you to move on from this place. A better act could be found. One that would allow you better friends. You have an air of strength. There is much fame in fighting."
"I see," Felicia nodded solemnly, seeming to understand why he was upset and in the position he was in. "I hope you find him," she took her drink and drained a fair bit more of the liquid from it, clearing her throat. "Please," she nodded as the man offered to refill her glass.
"Just a little, anyway, that stuff gets to me fast," she tilted her head. "Fighting huh? not exactly a world class fighter, but I guess I could train more," she nodded. "I don't want to cut off my meal ticket, just yet--I'm storing money away in a safe deposit box, making plans for the future," she replied, but seemed open. "If you wanna be my agent and help me maybe we could talk," she grinned.
Tipping the bottle smoothly over the rim of her glass, Kenshi pours another 2 or so fingers of the strong spirits into Felicia's glass. Judging that to be enough, he returns the bottle to the table with a quiet 'clink' and relaxes back into the cushions of his crimson armchair.
"Between your nights here and professional fights, I feel that you will shortly have all the money you need." The swordsman's council is quiet and calm, all traces of lingering grimness faded away. And when Felicia grins, he grins back, the twitch of his lips faint but conveying a smile all the same.
"I will not be your agent, but an ally. I ask for no payment. If you truly wish to fight, meet me beneath the metro city bridge in one weeks time."
With those words given, and the potential for their next meeting set, the swordsman rises smoothly from his chair. Pausing to bow shallowly over the top of the table, he straightens with the soft creak of leather and steps around his chair. Without cane or uplifted hand he strides confidently across the pink carpet, brushing the pink curtain aside and exiting out into the crowded club beyond.
Log created on 01:37:38 06/25/2016 by Felicia, and last modified on 02:52:40 06/26/2016.