05.26.3013: The Shameless
Summary: Jane, Letha, Katrina and Drake engage in every party cliche in the book.
Date: 26 May 2013
Related: Tournament Feast
Drake Katrina Jane Letha 


Main Arcade, the Westend
The Westend of Landing is also known as the Entertainment District. It is most active at night, where the neon lights sends the world into a kaleidoscopic glow. The Central Arcade is a wide, circular plaza with various thoroughfares spreading out like spokes on a wheel into the various regions of the district. At the center of the arcade is a round stage that nightly hosts various musical artists and groups to keep the party going even between venues. Neon piping is inlaid into the cement, creating various geometric patterns and creating pathways to various nightclubs and restaurants. AMP and Red Eye dealers covertly move through the crowds, trading doses for currency.
May 26, 3013

In the wake of the System-wide announcement, there is chaos in the street. Most people are handling things pretty well, but some people are panicking, and others are partying. It's not scheduled, it's not organized, but the Westend is a mess of people drinking, dancing, and trying to get lucky. Drake Danger is working his way through the party, almost never getting recognized, but always making a good impression. He has his guitar slung over one shoulder, and a nearly-full bottle of clear liquor in his left hand. Turning away from one group of revelers, he scrubs a hand back through his long tumble of hair, looking around the greatest party ever created by the Gods…

Katrina is already liqoured up from her time spent inside the Violet Siren. "You suck! And you can't play drums for shit!" she yells at someone over her shoulder, "And you're fired! YEAH!" Crisis be damned, she's got an uppity bandmate to knock down a few pegs. Turning just long enough to stick her middle finger up at someone still within the club, she then swivels (well, more like stumbles) back around to face the street and all those gathered in a spontaneous party. "Well, well, well!" Others may not recognize Drake, but a fellow musician totally wouldn't. "On a crazy scale of one to ten this is like, twenty, yeah?"

This is the place for Jane. After the climactic end to the tournament feast, one can assume the actress returned home to don her sluttiest costume, put a dent in her personal supply of AMP, and toss down another half a bottle of liquor. By the time she reaches the throng gathered about the Westend, she is practically pinging off the walls. Her nearly hysterical shrieks of joy are audible as she bumps her way through the crowd, takes swigs of whatever liquor is handed her way, and occasionally stops to gyrate against strangers in a pantomime of actual dance. Her cry of "Fuck everything!" earns a hearty cheer from those closest to her.

Letha Vallas is out on the makeshift dance floor as music blasts through the Main Arcade of the Westend. Her hair had long ago been let loose of her graceful knot, thrashing around her features as she bumps up against other girls from Landing Life. AMP has already make its rounds through this particular gaggle, and even some have decided to forego the hyposprays and gone straight for the Red Eye drops — Letha has chosen the former and certainly not the latter. The accents of her bioluminescent attire makes her glow in soft hues of blue and violet in the dark of the Landing lights. It may be the 'End of the World' party, but she is all smiles — though that might be the high. It is probably the high that causes her not to even give a shit when she bumps into Jane as she enters the throng and almost lays a kiss on her before she realizes who she is. "Jane! Jane Wyre! My friend…"

Drake glances over to Katrina at the greeting, raising up the bottle and offering it out, "Twenty, twenty-five." He frees one hand, pointing at Katrina, "I know you. I know you from somewhere." The fall from Jane draws a laugh and a call, "Rock Until the World Ends," with his free hand pointed up to the sky, pinky and forefinger extended in the traditional rock horns. The high little blonde that throws herself at Jane Wyre gets a glance and a laugh and… holy shit, Jane Wyre? Isn't she like, old or something?

"Letha!" Jane's face practically glows as she clasps the woman's face in her hands and administers a hearty kiss of greeting on Letha's cheek. "Why did I not believe you rode the straight and narrow? Damn good to see you here." Her voice is a bit hoarse as she shouts above the noise to be heard, and she casts a glance around at the frenzied throng pressing in closer to the dancefloor. This arrangement suits the actress greatly; it is far less stuffy (and much more grabby) than the scenery from the feast. Her smile is wide, nearly ravenous, as she returns her attention to the journalist and begins to dance in time to the music. Her movements are lithe and practiced - testimony to years of study. She responds to Drake's cry with another shriek, thrusting her hand skyward in a gesture that echoes his despite the fact that she cannot quite see him. "This party is bloody brilliant, girl!"

"You said it!" Katrina hears someone yelling - Jane, in particular - and looks over as other people cry in unison. Her attention flits away for half a moment, but then she does a double take and flashes an amused smile in Jane's direction. "Isn't she like an actress or something in all those movies?" she asks of Drake, but then she decides to ask the source anyway. Raising her voice to yell, she calls out: "Aren't you in all those movies?!" It's very likely her question will never be heard given the din of the crowd, but she tried. It's not like she'll remember any of this in the morning anyway. The bottle is raised her way, and whether it was his intention or not she snatches it for a moment to drain a long, though really not at all needed, sip. "Yeah, I know you too. You're like, Damn or Disaster or D-something, yeah? Danger! Danger. I feel like we played at some of the same open mics or something." With a casual shrug, she relinquishes the bottle back to his custody.

Letha equally presses a kiss to her cheek in that noblesse fashion before she scoffs at her words. "Uhm, because daughters of famous fathers can't fit all our fucking baggage up the straight and narrow," she points out as she offers her a lopsided smile. Just as Katrina shouts over to Jane about "all those movies," the journalist spies a rather handsome musician come strolling past with two disposable cups of beer. She immediately pirouettes toward him, placing her hands on her hips and rolling her shoulders back in the rather unfair way women do when they want men to look a bit below the chin. "Hey… you got me a drink," she purrs in a heady voice. She arches up on her toes to press a kiss to the stranger's lips as she gracefully slips the cup from his grip. "Thanks," she murmurs as she drops back onto her heels, turning toward Jane with a wink. Now, the drummer for Hell if I Know must return to Drake with one cup instead of two.

Drake nods at Katrina, "Drake fuckin' Danger!" He doesn't seem saddened by not being really recognized, nodding at the question about Jane, "That's right! When we were like… ten." And then he blinks, watching the actress gyrate with the journalist, reaching out to grab Katrina's arm, "I take it back," and he raises his voice, "Jane Wyre fuckin' rocks!" He idly takes the bottle back, starting over in that direction just in time to have his drummer get grabbed and kissed hard, "Go man go!" Best. Party. Ever. (well, second best, he's not getting any action)

"Damn, that was a long time ago," Katrina wonders idly, rubbing a hand over her jaw. "Time flies, huh?" she laughs merrily. "Let's go say hi!" She may not know him particularly well, but that doesn't seem to matter. She smacks his ass anyway in an effort to speed him along toward Jane and Lethe. "Get it girl!" she yells approvingly of Letha's demonstration, punctuating her words with a whistle.

"Uh, fuck yeah," Jane replies to Letha, pausing mid-dance as she allows the realization of Letha's similar life story to fill up her mind. It's, like, an epic ah-hah moment that is interrupted by the screams from those around her that begin to recognize her face. Well it's about damn time. Grinning widely and squeezing her eyes shut, Jane replies with wordless cries before her head whips about once Drake's shout reaches her ears. The timing coincides with Letha's return to her side, and she reaches out to grab her friend's drink-free hand in an effort to drag her along. "I gotta find out who's saying that," she explains to the journalist, and it appears that her mind is operating on Katrina's wavelength. The group manage to meet halfway between, and it takes only a minimum of jostling to form a tight circle. The actress is laughing breathlessly as her glittering gaze alights upon Katrina first and then Drake, and she drapes an arm on Letha's shoulder casually while eyeballing the other two openly. One eye closes. "I know you from somewhere!"

Oh, she got it. The beer, that is. Letha salutes Katrina and Drake as they approach with the cup before she drains about a third of the beer in one go, breathing out a sound exhale before she casts the drummer a grinning look over the rim of the cup. Then she clears her throat, giving her messy waves of gold a gentle toss. Her gaze continues to linger on the drummer while she is dragged along — quite easily. When they come to a stop and cluster together with the other two, she sinks a bit of her weight against Jane as she loops her arm around the woman's waist. She considers Drake Danger for a moment, as if she also knows she's seen him some place before. She tilts her head slightly, looking strangely down her nose. "Hmm…"

Drake nods at Katrina, laughing at the smack on his ass and reaching over in an attempt to sling an arm around Katrina's shoulders. With his other hand, he holds out the half-full bottle of clear booze to the ladies, "I'm Drake Danger! And you were just dancing with another girl, and that is so rock and roll." He points across to Katrina, "And this… this is… someone I totally know." He blinks, then points over at Letha's erstwhile lothario, "And that's my drummer. Rock on!"

On their way over, Katrina tosses an arm around Drake's waist, and between the two of them they make short work of clearing a path. The other hand is used to steal a plastic cup filled with unknown contents from a hapless partier they pass by. She should probably want to know what's inside it first, but she starts chugging without hesitation. "Hey! You're that actress!" she points at Jane, laughing in a surprised sort of way. Under normal circumstances, Katrina might be pissed at the lack of recognition. But she's drunk and happy, so it slides. "It's Katrina!" she says loudly, following up with "Nash!" The one with the music playing in some of the clubs that people either love or hate. "Woo!" With her plastic cup empty, she smashes it onto the head of a poor guy just trying to wriggle out of the crowd. The gesture doesn't come off as friendly as she intended.

Drake should really stop swinging about that bottle if he's not intending on offering it to people. Jane may be misinterpreting the gesture as she snakes out a hand to snatch the seemingly proffered liquor, tossing back a couple of gulps before returning it to the musician. Her lips curl back to reveal her pefectly white teeth. "Draaaake Dangerrrr," she drawls, giving her addled mind a bit of time to connect the name to a past experience; it works, and she snaps her free hand in sudden recognition. "I totally remember seeing you play once! 'Love is Like a Bomb' - you're the better part of Hell If I Know, ohmygods I loveloveLOVED Patience is Genius some of your songs are fuckin' brilliant and you're with Katrina Nash?" She has a girly *squee* moment, hopping on her toes and jerking Letha about inadvertently. "I love this place! Woo! I need another drink, hold on."

"Oh! Drake Danger! From Hell If I Know." As the journalist polishes off another third of the beer, Letha looks back over toward the drummer. She offers him a little wave of her fingers. Then she returns her attention to the rest as the introductions are made, and then she offers a salute of her cup. "I'm Letha Vallas," she returns in lieu of all the introductions. She finishes off her own beer, but instead of the head-bashing, she just tosses the cup over her shoulder. The poor janitor drones are going to have a lot of fun tomorrow morning. She listens to Jane rattle on for a little bit before she laughs. She releases the woman so she many go get her refill as she then reaches out to snatch at Drake's bottle too to get her own fill.

Drake blinks at Katrina, "Holy shit! You are Katrina Nash." Laughing, he reaches back to scrub his hair back out of his face, "Man, we should totally do a show." And now he has a fangirl. Thankfully, he intended to pass off the bottle anyhow. He puffs up at the compliments, waving off the return of the bottle and hefting his guitar with the arm that isn't slung around Katrina's shoulders, "Do you know how much talent we've got right here? We could like, make bank…" And then he pauses, looking over to Letha, "Vallas, Vallas… I know that name. Why the hell do I know that name? Because we should totally do a show right here, right now. Danger, Nash, and Wyre." He stops, then ads, "And Vallas. Why does that sound so wrong?"

"Vallas?" Katrina squints at Letha for a long moment. "Wait, like Christian Vallas? Damn, girl!" Trashy or not, she knows her music, and the name rings a very familiar bell. When it all finally clicks for Drake, she smirks a little, almost triumphantly so. "Hell yeah," she smacks his ass again for emphasis, but spills her newly acquired drink in the process. She stares at the ground in a moment of silence. "Anywho," she snaps back out of it in a heartbeat, grinning at Jane. "You were so badass in that, ah-which one was the one where you kicked the shit out of that one guy? That was great." Her lips exaggeratedly press together as she contemplates Drake's suggestion. "We got more in our little pinkies combined than this entire fucking planet! Of course we should."

For a minute or two, Jane is off among the other revelers, waiting for some unfortunate s.o.b. to freshen up his drink before the actress is claiming it for herself. She pulls a page from Letha's book and stills any protest with a quick, heated snog before returning to her friend's side. Flushed and floating, the actress gulps from her cup while listening intently in an attempt to catch up to missed conversation. The suggestion of forming a group causes her to half-laugh/half-choke on her beer, and she's rubbing her stinging throat and peering at Katrina through watery eyes when a previous movie role is mentioned. "Yeeeah, that would be, The Underdark, fucking piece of shit." She will never escape that damn movie. "What're you going to play for us, Mister Dangerrr?"

"I'm no one," Letha says with a dismissive wave of the bottle before she hands it back to him, but then Katrina figures her out. "Yeah, he's my father…" And how thrilled she sounds about that. She reaches into her clutch purse, but she doesn't pull her lipstick or perfume. Instead, she pulls out that miniature hypospray of AMP. She outstretches her arm a bit, flexing her fist closed before she administers another hit of the drug with a quick inhale through her nostrils. She holds her breath a moment before she releases a slow and relaxed sigh, shaking her hand and elbow a bit before she offers up the hypospray to the gathering. She glances toward Jane as she returns, flashing her a quick grin before her aquamarine eyes settle on Drake once more.

Drake straightens up sharply at another slap on the ass, grinning broadly, "That, is my ass." He watches Letha blast AMP up her nostrils, shaking his head, "Man, my drummer's totally into that shit. Thinks it puts him on the beat." Looking back to Jane, "No, there was totally that one where you were climbing down some guy's throat for like ten minutes." The question draws a frown, "What's this call for. 'Hear I Am?' No… I think it's more like 'Time and Time Again.' It's more… totally in tune with how things are going right now." Pressing his left hand to his chest, he points to Letha and Jane, "But I'm gonna need some encouragement, of course."

Drake straightens up sharply at another slap on the ass, grinning broadly, "That, is my ass." He watches Letha blast AMP into her arm, shaking his head, "Man, my drummer's totally into that shit. Thinks it puts him on the beat." Looking back to Jane, "No, there was totally that one where you were climbing down some guy's throat for like ten minutes." The question draws a frown, "What's this call for. 'Hear I Am?' No… I think it's more like 'Time and Time Again.' It's more… totally in tune with how things are going right now." Pressing his left hand to his chest, he points to Letha and Jane, "But I'm gonna need some encouragement, of course."

"The rest of the movie sucked, but you were awesome," Katrina tells Jane, saluting the actress with her drink. "No shit, really? I was aiming for your head." She rolls her eyes at Drake, but laughs for a good long time until someone not too far away catches her attention. "Time out, you're the son of a bitch that stole my wrist computer from my nightstand last month!" Kat blurts out angrily, suddenly pointing in an accusatory manner at a man who is just trying to get a drink, but who she -thinks- was a sticky-fingered paramour. The poor guy blinks, pointing to himself questioningly. "Yeah, YOU!" In reality, he doesn't look anything like the real culprit, but right now she's on a mission. Turning to the others, she offers a fleeting, apologetic smile. "I got some business to take care of. Enjoy the party! Rock on." With that, she disappears to chase her hapless victim through the crowd in an effort to corner him and break his nose.

There is a moment's hesitation as the hypo makes it way toward Jane, and she tilts her head to the side to stretch her neck as if physically pained by the sight. It only takes a second or two for her internal monologue to shut down entirely, and her lingering inhibitions take flight for the land of sobriety. She practically snatches it from Letha's hand and readies her own arm, tilting her head back with her eyes closed as she takes a hit. Shaking out her curls, the actress straightens slowly, running the fingers of her free hand along her face and fluffing up her hair. With eyes closed, she offers the hypospray back to Letha while listening to the others converse. "Mmm, business," she murmurs, prying her eyes open as the euphoria hits and she is sent into a fit of giggles. "PLAY IT!" she shrieks suddenly, startling even herself with the voracity of the demand.

"And does it?" Letha says with a slight airyness to her voice as she regards Drake with those sea-colored eyes. Then she glances back over to the drummer in question, casting him a wink. And then Katrina decides to chase down her supposed thief, and it causes the journalist to arch up her brows in earnest curiosity. "Definitely leaving that story for someone else to chase," she mutters before she glances back around toward Jane at Drake's words, offering the woman a broad smile that sends a flare of dimples at the corners of her mouth, and then the actress's burst inspires her to join in, throwing her hands up in the air as she also shrieks, "PLAY IT!"

Drake eyes Katrina, but nods and lets his arm drop away, returning the ass-swatting favor, "Go get 'im, Kat." Looking back to Letha, he shakes his head, "Hell no. He's always a quarter-beat fast." The screaming causes him to laugh, and he shakes his head, "Well, it ain't what I was looking for, but it'll have to do before my eardrums burst." Pulling his guitar around, he beckons, "To the stage!" He threads a few paces through the crowd, grabbing the back of his drummer's collar to pull him away from another match of tonsil hockey with at least a fourth girl. Then he's close enough to jump up on one of the stages, shoving aside a screaming fan and grabbing an amp-plug and a loudspeaker. There's a squeal of feedback, and then he calls, "I WANNA ROCK!" Screams rise from a few in the audience.

Jane exchanges a look with Letha as Drake forces his way through the crowd toward the stage, and she pulls her friend along in his wake in an effort to keep up. She is not quite so silly a fan as to follow him onto stage, but instead forces her way into the front by throwing her not inconsiderable reputation around. As Drake warms up the crowd, Jane is joining in their screaming, turning to the person on her other side to see if they are just as enthusiastic as she. Alas, it's a dude who is less than thrilled at the screaming, gibbering fangirls that seem to appear out of nowhere. His eyes widen at the sight of Jane, however, and he takes his chance to dive forward and steal a kiss. The actress is admittedly startled, but her arms wrap around his neck and they set to a proper snogging. Guess she won't be going home alone tonight after all (but cue the morning's regretful Walk of Shame).

Letha hardly resists as Jane drags her along. She swats at a hand that definitely tries to grab something that isn't theirs to grab, but that is quite normal. As Drake shouts those words into the microphone, she joins in with the other girls, screaming and jumping up and down a bit as she claps her hands together. Thanks to the combination of AMP and booze, she hardly notices when Jane starts to snog with her most recent admirer. She is too busy getting ready to thrash like a pro.

At the response from the audience, the rocker locks the loudspeaker on and sets it on a nearby speaker. He hits the opening guitar sting, spinning around to face the audience as he does, "I wanna ROCK!" Once more, they roar back, and then he dives straight into the song, which clashes rather badly with the soulful rockabilly rising up from across the plaza, and the thumping techno from a portable music player a few hundred meters away. "Turn it down, you say, well all I gotta say to you is time and time again I say 'No no no no no no no no…'" Thankfully, by the time Drake and his drummer are up to the next chorus, the other members of Hell If I Know are on stage, joining in. For all his somewhat vacant language in the crowd, Drake is crisp and clear on the rapid-fire lyrics, showing no ill effects of any alcohol he may or may not have drunk. Probably 'may not'.

Jane is torn between her stranger-boyfriend and the music emanating from the stage. She is a big Drake fan, and admittedly the dulcent croon is almost - almost - more enticing than the promise of a one-night-stand, but her drug-addled mind is in a state where resistance is futile. So when he tugs insistently on her hand, Jane stumbles backward through the crowd, watching both Letha and Drake disappear as she makes her way through to a sidestreet that loops back toward the Ways and the residential districts beyond. Many people present were more than happy to take note of her exit, snapping photos with their tablets and immediately uploading them to the InfoSphere…because that's how Miss Wyre rolls.

"I'm not chasing that one either," Letha says to no one in particular as she notes that Jane has gone. She pauses just a moment, but instead goes back to bouncing on her feet and enjoying the remainder of the song, joining in at the appropriate shouts when encouraged from the crowd.

Drake blazes through the song, ending it by inciting a chant of "I wanna ROCK!" "ROCK!" ending it abruptly as he unplugs his guitar and screams out, "Fuck you, Hostiles! Come and fuckin' get it!" And then he's swinging his guitar back and jumping off-stage. The rest of Hell If I Know descend from the stage a little more sedately. Drake looks around, blinking as he notices that the group of three women is down to one. "Hey. Letha, right?" He grins out at the shouting fans, then tries to swing his left arm around the short woman's shoulders.

Letha thumbs off to where Jane went. "Just check the InfoSphere," is all she says though. She does not deflect his arm from swooping around her shoulders, though she does cast him a dubious look through her drunken high. "And yeah… Letha. Vallas." She offers him a euphoric smile that causes that rounds out and brightens her usual soft features. "And you are Drake Danger." She points out, very helpfully.

Drake tosses his hair out of his face at the helpful addition, "Yup, I am." He shakes his head, "And you are high as a fuckin' kite." Snatching up a passing beer, he lifts it in salute and drains it down, blinking hard against the effects of the alcohol, "So what brings you down here to party central, Letha Vallas? I mean, why here?"

Letha scoffs indignantly. "My feet are firmly on the ground, thank you." She rolls her head back against his arm across her shoulders thoughtfully. Her fingertips gently grace one of the seams of his leather jacket, almost thoughtfully. "I'm a journalist for Landing Life… and this place is better than the Blue District. And, well… its Landing. I work here." She gestures around the Westend, either indicating the whole city itself or perhaps the Westend more specifically.

Drake snorts loudly, "I can change that, you know." He blinks at the revelation, "Wait, you're a fucking journalist?" He shrugs, laughing, "Badass." Starting to wander through the crowd with his arm around Letha's shoulders, he puts in, "So what do you write about for Landing Life? Wait… shit, you did that piece on Frankie Frank, didn't you? That was pretty damn good. So, is he going to have another farewell tour?"

"Mmhmm, that was me," Letha says as she tilts her head back against his arm once more, looking up at the swathe of stars high above. "Another one. Probably his last, honestly. He seemed really… dedicated to it." She glances over at him with her head still tilted back, relying on him to make sure she doesn't trip over anything. "I think he's going to be disappointed in the age of his fangirls, though…"

Drake gives an ostentatious shudder, "Bleugh… wrinkled hagbag fangirls if they're anywhere near his age." Another beer is grabbed, gulped, and guzzled, and he calls out, "WHOOOO!" thrusting his free right arm up into the air. Spotting one of the kiosks, luckily locked up, he looks over to Letha, "Watch this!" And then he's off to unsling his arm from her shoulders, hop up onto a concrete bench, then onto the counter of the kiosk, where he waves and wobbles a good bit, grabbing onto the roof for support, "How many people wanna ROCK?" Talky-time appears to be over, it's back to party-time.

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