03.22.3014: Shore Leave
Summary: Antaeus visits the Blue Nirvana and runs into some interesting ladies (and a gent).
Date: 10 Dec 2013
Related: None
Antaeus Imogen Lincoln Silver 


The Blue Nirvana
Entering through the heavy wooden doors decorated with relief sculptures of flirtatious nude cherubs, visitors find themselves in the tiny waiting room of the upscale brothel and bar, The Blue Nirvana. Only a single, plush red velvet bench sits in the small area, and the walls are covered with a darker, more rich red velvet. Opposite the wooden entry doors is the floor to ceiling black velvet curtain visitors must pass through to reach the main sanctum.

Once inside, light piano music fills the dimly lit air of The Blue Nirvana main sanctum. Unlike the cold steel found in so many other places on the Ring, the walls of the sanctum are covered in plush red velvet curtains and Arborenin cherry oak trim. Larger than the entryway would lead outsiders to believe, this main area is actually two stories tall, the lofted ceiling covered in similar Arborenin oak planks and golden trimmings that flow into several ornate crystal chandeliers that outstretch almost a dozen feet each. A grand piano sits at the far corner of the room, and various love seats and couches made of the same wood and crushed red velvet cushions rest in various positions for privacy or presentation.

A few of the Blue Nirvana's prostitutes relax on these couches, dressed in immaculate, fancy clothing that is sensual but not overtly obscene. Across the back wall is a long bar, again fashioned from the Arborenin wood, where a bartender serves drinks from thousands of bottles, vials and containers lining the wall behind him. The space above the bar is a balcony stretching the entire length of the room, the upstairs wall lined with more heavy, fancy wooden doors that lead to the private chambers of business. The red carpeted staircase gently descends and curves towards the center of the room from the wall to the far right.

03/22/3014

Antaeus Larent needs a drink gods damn it. Oh sure, he could go to some dive on Nubilus, but as he rattled off names in his head all he could think of was 'been there, done that' or something along those lines. Boring. Landing came into mind next, but he shelved that. The Ring… didn't it have that one place? And with those very thoughts, the man finds himself in the Blue Nirvana. Going up to the bar, he is able to pick up a bottle of something hard, some spirits to wash away the cares for now. Sadly, he can't just barfly it up this time and get hammered, soooo he begins to look around for somewhere to sit. Spotting a somewhat empty table, he heads on over and quirks his head at Silver. "Do you mind?" He gestures to a seat near her, and holds up the bottle. "I can share if you want."

The Blue Nirvana really should install a revolving door at this rate. Mere moments after Antaeus crosses the room towards Silver and her sofa, the door swings open again. The slender, tanned hand follows through the gentle shove, forcing the door to swing widely enough for Imogen Rose to step through and clear the space before it closes once again. Her brown eyes scan the room through her dark lashes, taking in the sight of one person she recognizes: Silver. Without so much as a wave, she turns her attention to the bar, ordering a glass of Grayson's on ice, and once she's paid for it she turns to saunter quietly towards both her and Antaeus.

There's a glance up; Silver had been wearing a hood on the coat before she came in, but it's since fallen back. Her hair is bound up tightly in a braid that's wound at the base of her skull. She isn't wearing any makeup and up close, even under the dark lights, there's signs of bruising along the right side of her face. It's just beginning to darken at the edges; still fresh.

Her eyes lean more towards grey than blue and she seems initially rather suspicious, studying Antaeus for a long moment. Despite an initial inclination, the offer to share lures her in. "No, no… Go ahead."

Shrugging as she seems to agree, Antaeus sighs as he sits down and then flags someone down to bring another empty glass. Glancing over to the woman he gives her a once over, perhaps a little more appreciatively so over certain areas, but nothing is said about the bruising. Once the fresh glass comes, he pours her a healthy portion and slides the glass down to her. Taking his own glass in hand, he lifts it up in salute of sorts before pounding it down. Once that's done, "Oh looks like there is more company heading our way." He gestures towards an approaching Imogen.

One boot taps the floor after another as Imogen rounds about a clutch (gaggle? pride? MURDER?) of prostitutes. Walking with a carefree swagger with her clear glass of equally clear alcohol trailing behind her in her black-lacquered fingertips, she clears the last few feet with relative ease and zero requests for late-night company. With a swish of her skirt around her thighs and a newfound hang to her baggy sweater, she drops to a seat with knees propped together and the toes of her boots pointed towards each other in an upside-down 'V' pattern.

"Now that is one service I wasn't aware they provided here, Silver." Imogen grins against the lip of her glass like a predatory lioness. It's a black joke. Taking a sip, she motions from Antaeus to the red-head. "For another hundred credits I'll let you hit her with my shoe."

The glass is accepted with an appreciative look. Silver begins to lift it for a salute, but she winces and switches hands instead to complete the gesture. When the man points out the approaching Imogen, her eyebrows lift slightly. "Fancy seeing you here."

The joke from the woman leads to a slightly sheepish look and Silver shrugs deeper into her coat. There's a sip taken from the drink and she snorts softly into it. "I'll pass, thank you."

Antaeus glances between Imogen and Silver as they have their little exchange, a smirk crossing his lips at Imogen's remark about the shoe. Shaking his head, he throws back another shot and then asks, "Only a hundred, huh? I admit that it's tempting, but there are other people I would much rather hit with a shoe, and that much I would do for free." He gives them both a grin that shows teeth before offering the bottle towards Imogen. "Do you want some too? They say one should never drink alone, so the hell with it, I can buy a few more bottles if I really need to. By the way, my name is Antaeus. If we're going to share a bottle, may as well be pleasant about it."

"Fifty Dollars." Imogen replies to Antaeus, nearly interrupting the man as her filthy joke continues, as if trying to barter him down. Her painted lips crack in a wicked smile towards the two of them as she reaches out for the bottle. The loose-fitting tank top she wears beneath her sweater leans scandalously close to danger as her bracelets clack and her fingers wrap around the neck of the bottle. "I'm Imogen, Antaeus. I'm bored, I'm wandering, and the lucky two of you are my entertainment for the moment. Lucky you." Her eyes roll as she takes a swig from the bottle and hands it back to the man.

"So did you give the other guy worse than you got?" Imogen asks, eyes turning to Silver.

A good portion of the glass is drained while Imogen barters with Antaeus. Silver sets it down and initially answers the other woman's question by pulling up the hood. It's further embarassment. "One of 'em," she mumbles.

To the man, however, she tips her head in a small nod, "Silver." Then, with a faint wince, she's sliding over on the sofa portion of the small table; making room for Imogen.

Finding himself slightly confused by the banter between the two women, Antaeus gives them both a glance before telling himself 'fuck it' and throwing another one back. "First a hundred and now fifty? If I say no again, can I save myself another twenty-five?" Smirking, he shifts in the seat slightly, so he can focus, or try to focus, his attention on both women. Sure, at Imogen's comment about wandering, he may have directed his gaze towards her scandalous sweater and murmured something about 'that not being the only thing that's wandering'. "Yes, yes, lucky us." He remarks, eyeing her taking a swig out of the bottle, and then eyeing his glass. "I think we'll need another bottle, maybe two."

"Nono…I have this." Imogen raises her glass of Grayson's to Antaeus, giving it a little shake to emphasize the point. She just one-fisted a bottle with an already fresh drink in her palm. It's a habit, really. Leaning forward, she presses against Silver's knee and motions Antaeus towards her. "I'll have to apologize, it's just she's bruised and banged up. She didn't look like that the night before, and I know it's rude to mention it, but we're in a brothel. I figure all of the bets are off." A beat. "So what do you do, Antaeus? You're rather blonde and have all of your teeth, and no…twenty five is too low."

"We're in a bar… attached to a brothel," Silver affirms. She still tugs the right side of the hood down further, covering that bruising. There's a slight wrinkle of her nose, nonetheless. Maybe she's just bad at jokes. Or maybe the liquor hasn't numbed the pain quite enough yet. Casting a glance towards the hall that lead to the… private rooms, her gaze comes back around. "To be honest, I've never been back there."

Those grey-blue eyes come back around and Silver lifts the glass with her left hand; the right curled in against her side. Really, it's the whole right side of her that she favors. Keeping it angled further into the dark. "Twenty-five is much too low," she adds finally.

Nodding appreciatively at Imogen's own drink, Antaeus then leans in when she motions him too. Smirking at the joke, he has to shake his head. "I would say something about that being a little messed up, but who am I to judge, eh?" He leans back, giving a casual shrug to indicate that he is not one to interfere in their little banter, but he does feel the need to answer Imogen's question, "I'm in the Navy, just a Lieutenant serving on my father's ship. Hey, at least he is giving me some shore leave, right?" Silver's comment catches his attention next, and he turns to look where she is looking and he blinks, "How are things there? Or here, I mean. Been too damn busy to ever stop by before."

"Oh military." Imogen replies, eyebrows lifting to appraise Antaeus with a shared look towards Silver. Miltary. Her fingertips leave Silver's knee to nudge Antaeus' as she settles back into her seat, watching the two with her glass held to the side. "I stop in here from time to time for this drink I've got in my hand. It's not exactly rare, but Lincoln here makes sure it's mixed right every time. You can't pay for that kind of service." A beat. "But speaking of service, Antaeus…" Imogen pulls a tablet from a small pocket in his sweater. "…have you seen any combat?"

The second party night this week. Linc's not sure what Ren's angle is, but at least they're packed. The man comes down the stairs, dressed in a rather shape looking tunic that's open partially. Casually, some might even say, but it's all a show. He's definitely working tonight. His hair is just slightly damp, for anyone paying attention, but is hanging loose, bangs in his eyes making him look younger than he is. He'll grin at the filled bar as he taps the current bartender on the shoulder. He gives Linc a slightly thankful look and they switch places. "Hello folks. Let me know if I can get you anything." It's a general statement to everyone, the bar is packed.

"Military and navy are different things, m'dear," Silver murmurs to Imogen, managing something of a nod. She leans back into the sofa, letting it support her. The coat is tugged slightly in a few places and the woman just lets it envelop her. Like one might wrap in a blanket. She's certainly here more as a patron than an actress. It may account for the shift in mood; something Lincoln has seen before, but would be new to others.

As Imogen pulls out the tablet, there's something of a curiousity in Silver's gaze. It's not enough to really get her to move, but her leg will shift up against the other woman's just briefly. She seems curious enough for the answer to the question, eyes shifting to the lieutenant as her glass is lifted for another sip.

The only reaction Antaeus gives at Imogen's nudge is a grin as his eyes meet hers. "Combat? Yes, I've been involved in a number of engagements, both fleet actions and ground actions. For example, I was there when we defended Primus from a Hostile attack." He gives a little shrug before taking the bottle in hand and taking another swig from it. "Sometimes though, I do think that I would have rather followed along with my sister and became a knight rather than follow father into the Navy." Oh, he probably shouldn't have let that slip, but oh well. "What I mean is that, eh, the hell with it, I shouldn't complain about it."

Looking directly up to catch sight of Lincoln, the hollow of Imogen's throat tightens as her neck straightens fully with the effort. The patch of black hair that normally rests over one eye pulls to the side, allowing the man sight of both of her brown eyes. Her half-open mouth curls into a smile as she reaches back to pat his abdomen softly. "There you are. I got my Gray from Roberts, but if you can sit, why don't you take a few minutes off?" Imogen offers, scooting closer to Silver and Antaeus. The patch of black bangs falls back over her eye as she scoots.

"Are they?" Imogen asks Silver, typing something quickly onto her tablet and holding it to the side for Silver's view. "I thought the military was the whole overall of everything. Soldiers equals military." Imogen adds, her hair whipping softly as she turns her attention to Antaeus. "Is that right, Antaeus? I've been comfortable for the last few months, so I guess I have people like you to thank, so count your next bottle on me, unless your father's rich. In that case I'm sure Silver and I could be talked into letting you call the drink orders for the next hour." Imogen sips quietly at the tiny stray in her drink. "Do you fire the cannons? What I wouldn't give to fire off that kind of metal."

Lincoln 's already starting to pour a bourbon for a gentleman who's tapped his glass at the end of the bar. Once that's taken care of, he works his way over to the group. He'll flash Imogen a quick, but bright smile, "I'm never off, you know that." But he does pause to lean into the bar some, it's a 'hang out for a moment' lean, attention mostly given to the three, although there is an awareness of what's going on around him. His eyes flicker to Silver, expression hard to read, but then he throws her a softer smile, "Good there? or need something else?" It's a loaded question, and meant to be. And finally Antaeus, "Hey man, I'm Lincoln. Let me know what I can do for you." And that may also be a loaded question, as it's said with a grin and a wink.

"I've met some military that would chafe at being lumped in with navy… And vice versa." One side of Silver's mouth twitches in a smirk. Lincoln earns a small shake of the head and she lifts the half-full glass in her left hand. "This fine Lieutenant has opted to provide my drinks. For now." The smile she offers likely fails at being reassuring; limited in motion as she is at the moment.

Leaning over towards Imogen to catch view of the screen, Silver's jaw just grits slightly in pain and her left shoulder may bump a bit harder into the other woman than intended. There's a glance, catching her eyes and a small shrug. When she leans back into the seat, there's a slow exhale of a sigh. "The bigger the weapon…" The joke dies on her mouth and she finally coughs faintly, covering it with a quick rise of the glass to swallow down some of the liquor. "Mmf… I prefer versatility."

Antaeus looks up as Lincoln approaches, and offers the man a nod in return. "Antaeus, Lincoln. Nice to meet you, and let me just say, I think as long as there's something to drink going around here, well, I can't speak to these two nice ladies, but I'll be more than happy."

"There is some truth to what you are saying." Antaeus saying, nodding at Imogen. "You could correctly use the term 'military' and brush all the fighting men and women under it, and I'm not sure anyone would say anything to argue against it. While it's kind enough of you to offer, I'll just use up a little bit of father's money and pay for both of you to down as many bottles of whatever you want. Maybe it'll make up for me disappointing you by saying that no I don't fire the cannons." He says this last with a laugh, adding finally, "I have fired them once or twice though, if that makes any difference."

Silver's reaction makes him glance over to her with an eyebrow raised, "Oh, you prefer versatility in weaponry do you? Are you a fan of both bludgeons and blades? One-handed and two-handed?" There's something of a mischievous gleam in his eye and in the smirk he directs at her as he's asking this.

Versatility. Laugh. There's a glimmer of joy in Imogen's eyes as she gazes at Antaeus from over the rim of her glass while she sips. Shifting in her seat, she crosses her legs quickly and lets out a breathy giggle, which fogs her glass. "Your father's a very generous guy, and so are you, Antaeus. Really, thank you, but you have to make sure to leave a big tip for Lincoln, alright? I don't know if their markup on the drinks are much but he works very hard for his money. And yes, you've fired the cannons, that makes a lot of a difference. What's a fucking warship if you don't get to blow a few things up from time to time." With a smile, she turns her gaze to watch Silver, flashing her a simmering, sidelong smile. "She strikes me as a two handed girl."

Innuendo.

"Speaking of versatile." Imogen speaks up, craning her head back towards Lincoln, who receives a more quiet look; at least in the eyes anyway. Her smirk hasn't faded, but she sees the man for the moment, saluting him with her drink. "Silver, Antaeus, if you haven't taken him up on it yet I thoroughly recommend one of Lincoln's massages. He's very good. He pays attention." She winks, then turns back to Antaeus. "You should pay for us all three to get massages, how fun would that be?"

Lincoln nod back to Silver, leaving the offer of whatever there, but turns towards Antaeus, "Flowing drinks, I can handle. Easy happy." There's just way to easy of a joke about big guns and handling weapons, so Linc lets it go. An eyebrow is quirked at Imogen, but she's given a wolfish grin, "Now…I only have two hands…You might have to take turns.But I'm game."

From somewhere within Silver's coat, she brings forth a tablet. Something… jingles? in the process. There's no telling. She lets Antaeus deliver the bad news to Imogen regarding cannons as she begins tapping something out on the display. When the man speaks to her, there's something of a feral baring of teeth. The tablet is set down upon the table before her and she lifts her glass in something of a salute.

"My low account balance thanks you, Lieutenant. As for what I prefer… if it must be something other than my bare hands… Blades." The grin is tempered as Silver shifts her attention to Imogen. There's a few blinks. "Can't say I've ever had a massage."

"I'm not sure if I've ever really heard anyone call my father a 'generous guy', but I don't mind spending money here and there." Or tipping, since he readily agrees to the idea of giving Lincoln a handsome tip. Perhaps in honor of the man serving the drinks, or maybe more because why the hell not, Antaeus takes another deep draft from the bottle. "Massages huh? You know, I can't even think of the last time that I bothered to even get one, but speaking as a gentleman…" One that is getting just a hair tipsy, "I think I could see to it that you both got taken care of first at least." When Silver says that she's never had a massage, Antaeus jerks a finger in her direction and announces, "Well that settles that, doesn't it, looks like she goes first."

There's a chirp at Imogen's hip, and the screen of her tablet flashes a pale blue. With a dry giggle, Imogen bats her lashes towards Silver and leans in to bap her shoulders against the woman. "Get in there, soldier." Imogen teases, setting her glass down to pick up the tablet. Eyes lowering to the screen as she enters in her security code, she brings up her messaging program. Her lips immediately twist into a disgruntled look. "Antaeus? Lincoln? Explain your chromosome, your people to me: You give a guy your number and tell him specifically not to interrupt late at night while you're out having drinks unless it is an emergency, and he makes sure to add the words maybe emergency to his message." Imogen grins, thumbs tapping furiously. "Fuck'im. If he can type, he's not dying, and if he's messaging me while he's dying he really put trust in the wrong human being." SEND. Still, her fingers tap just a little while longer.

"So let's see here…Lieutenant Anteau—oh my." Imogen stops, looking up to the man, sizing his blonde hair, goatee, and then back to the image on her screen. "Oh yeah, you're totally paying, Captain. Liiiiincoln?"

Imogen turns around, cupping the side of her mouth to hide her lips from Silver and Antaeus, mouthing the words I AM TOTALLY MAKING YOU FUCKING MONEY RIGHT NOW AND YOU'D BETTER HOOK ME UP. L-A-R-E-N-T.. "Do you want to schedule these or are we all going back and drinking in that small-ass room and getting comfy?"

Lincoln can't help but chuckle at Imogen. Subtle she is not. "Up to you. I can take you back, one at a time, or we can all go back there." His dark eyes do go up and make contact with the man who was behind the bar earlier. Some silent brothel secret language is clearly happening as Linc nods once and the man starts making his way over. "We have The massage room, which we'll need to bring chairs into, or we can use the drake fly room."

Well, who knew. The actress can blush. Silver sinks further into her coat, letting the hood fall further over her face. "Oh, no. I- the drinks are more than enough." She's still favoring her right side, but a bit less as she finishes off the glass she held. The bottle is reached for and she pours more. The woman may protest a massage, but she won't deny someone who has already offered her drinks.

"What is a maybe emergency?" It's, perhaps, a rhetoric question as she downs a broader drink of the refilled glass. "Sounds like… a ploy, perhaps? I could see a poorly written script with some such." Silver shrugs, forgetting about her side. She winces, drowning it in the rest of the glass. Setting it down, she grabs her tablet as it sets off a quiet beep. Her hand shakes slightly as she taps at the display.

Laughing, Antaeus glances at Lincoln before glancing over to Imogen. "Explain what? That the guy is probably just calling you begging for your attentions? Certainly it can't be anything other than that, I would think." As Silver seems to politely decline, he frowns, "Oh come now. I hear that it can help pain sometimes, besides, it's freeeeee." He says this last with a bit of a flourish. "How can you say no to free? Oh, and wait, I am slightly confusd on something here. Why is it a small-ass room and not a big-ass room? Certainly a big-ass room would make more sense, would it not?" He gives a quizzical glance to Lincoln, "Hrm, is that the difference between the massage room and the drake fly room? One's the small-ass room, and the other is the big-ass room?" It would seem that he has taken to Imogen's fanciful terms. Standing up, he takes one last pull from the bottle and places it back down. "I suppose I should leave that here, eh?" Then he shrugs, ready for others to lead.

FUCK NO you shouldn't leave that there, Skipper. I'm going to need more Grayson's for this, too." Imogen finishes tapping something into her tablet, then slips it away. Reaching out for the bottle, she shoves it back into the Naval Lieutenant's hands, grabs Silver's wrist, and gently tries to guide her to her feet. "And you? You've had a rough night, trust me about Lincoln, he'll treat your right, right Linc?" Gen's bangs sway as she casts a quiet look to the man. "He's got a room with a massage table and there's a sofa in there and nice music, and I'm going to let message-guy stew for a bit in favor of massage-guy. Besides I totally want to see Lincoln give this guy a massage."

With that, she tries to lead the group, as a whole, towards Lincoln.

Lincoln smirks, and will tilt his head, letting the new/old barkeep know what room their using, and be prepared to sen dup more alcohol if he signals for it. And when he moves around the bar, he'll actually step up on the other side of Silver and dip his head close to her ear and whisper something to her before grinning and leading them all up the stairs to the a smaller(No asses involved) room that has a nice couch, a massage table and an assortment of oils and other calming, relaxing stuffs.

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