open rp post

[cacophonish]

OPEN RP POST

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jamjar music hijinks

[semicharmed]

When Matt Jamison first stumbled on this spot, he was sure it was a dream. Then he was sure he was crazy. Now he's back to thinking it's probably a dream, but with a 25% to 35% suspicion that it might be some value of real and a statistical margin of error that he's had a break with reality.

Tonight, Matt is:

At the bar

With a book

In a band tee that's too big because it's vintage

Busily not thinking about his latest disagreement with Vincent

Wearing a scarf indoors

How could he be unhappy? The signs around the place say there's music tonight.

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.

a tasteful morning after with Klaus

[cacophonish]

"Fuuuuck."

Why does the sun have to go and be so bright? Doesn't it know some people are trying to sleep. Jeff groans and drapes an arm over his eyes, dramatically, petulantly, and he doesn't even know if anyone's awake to appreciate it.

Fuck getting up. Jeff's just gonna go back to sleep. And so he lays like this for... who knows how long, his brain stubbornly refusing to black out, his fingers twitching impatiently, and his shoulder feeling all kinds of tweaked-- okay, okay. With a grumble, Jeff rolls onto his side and opens his eyes, taking stock of the situation.

He's in a bed. He's with Klaus. That checks out, since the last thing he remembers is partying with the guy, after he'd wrapped his show. Now here they are, a whole night of mysteries between them, lost in a cocktail of drugs. Jeff's got a dress on (wouldn't be the first time), some cheap slip thing, there's a discarded high heel shoe at the end of the bed (which he's pretty sure wouldn't fit either of their feet), and there's glitter in the sheets (RIP those sheets).

"Did we fuck, or did we just play dress up?"