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[cacophonish]

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LA, here we come

[dirtyandtrue]

It only took the vampire's man, Joslin, three and a half hours to get his Master to LA from Phoenix, speeding openly on the empty road in the supped up SUV with darkly tinted windows, like it was carrying the Prince of the Seine. Once it got into LA, it might as well have been. Matthew made a few stops, one to a dirty warehouse that clashed against his dark green velvet tailored suit where he loaded up on his 'party favors', before stopping by a much higher end building for the rest of his 'party favors'.

The latter was women, to be frank, two or three that looked like they should be beside him with their glamorous short skirts and useless fur cropped jackets, and the whole lot of them clamored out of the SUV as it drove up to the door of the venue, spilling out like a Rich someone with loose pockets with faces full of laughter and cocaine. It would be easy to say and assume that the women with him were being paid for their time, but the bouncer that Matthew sweettalked his way past without so much as a bill changing hands suggested something else. He and his women were a little too high class for the place, a little too Extra for what this club normally saw, but it didn't seem to bother them in the slightest.

Matthew got himself the largest table with the best view of the stage and ordered drinks over to it, settling in with a curious glinting eye over the crowd as he drank and laughed and was generally the loudest, jolliest partier in the small place. But once the show ended, Matthew left his table to be guarded by the tall, pale Russian Joslin as he and his ladies plied their way backstage.

Someone wanted to see the Band.

[cacophonish]

It's not often that Jeff really sees the people at his shows. When he's on stage, the crowd becomes a mass, some singular entity with a hundred faces, all blurring together.

But this guy and his crew, they stood out with how much they just didn't belong. They looked like the type who would light cigars with hundred dollar bills and, like, bleed diamonds or something. They looked like some kind of royalty.

Jeff's scene is just too dingy and grungy for people with that kind of money.

But boy did the guy seem to enjoy the show. It was like he was on another plane of revelry from the crowd, like he didn't need to be touched by the magic woven into every note to feel the music.

So maybe Jeff's a little distracted, even as he flops on a couch in the green room and starts chugging at a bottle of water, leaning against Ally like a ragdoll. She drags her fingers through his damp hair, teasing him about his future sugar daddy in the crowd with a snicker in her voice. He teases her back about eyefucking those fancy hookers with Mr. Future Sugar Daddy, and-- well, fuck, look who it is.

"Speak of the devil," Ally murmurs in his ear, nudging him with an elbow before getting up off the couch. Jeff stays where he's at, though he shoots a languid smile at the man and his chicks.

"Don't tell me: you guys are here for autographs, huh," Jeff teases. As if a Nervous Tix autograph is worth anything to anyone.

[dirtyandtrue]

Matthew was grinning brashly as he walked in, jacket and tie lost somewhere to the evening already and leaving a little triangle of chest peeking out above a few popped buttons to compliment his otherwise perfectly coifed hair. Always nice to be welcomed warmly, without any daggers to the eye or curses upon his house.

"Oh my god, you were amazing," his brunette gushed, smiling in that on Cloud 9 way that only fangirls and those lucky enough to fall under charms were. It was immediately followed by the blond gushing a similar sentiment, along with a- "Do you guys have Merch?"

Matthew hadn't needed any touching to feel the talent there, but even under the smell of dried gum, spilled drinks, some poor girls vomit being tracked in by various shoes no matter how much bleach the staff used to clean it, Jeff smelt Different.

It had been a long time since Matthew had found a Mage that wasn't already well aware and properly warned and protected against his kind, and while he couldn't be sure that's what he had here, he was willing to roll his dice and bet.

"You made quite an impression, I must say," Matthew followed, his softly French-twisted accent curling with his luring smile. "I am fond of finding up and comers, people who maybe need a little more attention than they're getting now." There was something about his voice, the sultry smooth promise of it that Jeff might recognize as a different but similar kind of Magic. One that oh so subtly encouraged him towards agreeing with whatever Matthew might have to offer.

"You could pack a lot more in than the mere hundred and fifty you've gotten tonight, no?"