921/Hello, Dahling

Hello, Dahling
Date of Scene:	13 June 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Ravenna Levesque and Jessica Jones enjoy another night at Lux, and spend a little more time in the company of the club's mysterious and charming bartender.
Cast of Characters:	Lucifer, Jessica Jones, Ravenna Levesque, Giganta

---

Lucifer has posed:
"~There is... a house... in New Orleans,"~ croons the girl at the corner stage in Lux. "~They calllllll, the Rising Sun~..."

"~And it's been the ruin ... of many a poor girl ... ~and God, I know... ~I'm onnnne~."

Lux brings in talent to play the live band. The singer is an up and coming star who's making big splashes across the eastern seaboard. A little fusion of country, rock, and soul, with a fine, full alto that resonates from the walls. The band playing accompaniment is as good as it gets-- excellent musicians, never missing a note.

But she's the headliner.

The beauty of Lux, of course, is how well it's arranged acoustically. The DJ for the dance floor can make your belly vibrate with the bass and ten yards away, a conversation can be hard in perfectly normal tones with no need to shout. Similarly, no matter where someone sits in the club, they can hear the music as clearly as if they had a personal stereo playing-- but conversation isn't stilted or overwhelmed.

With all the patrons more or less front row center to see the show, the bartender's standing behind the border of his little domain with his arms crossed, clearly enjoying the music and not being required to do much else at the moment.

Jessica Jones has posed:
Some bars are the place of a moment, a spot where a drunken or desperate soul lands before they fly off again to feast on the shit of their own lives. Some bars? Create customers for life.

One Jessica Jones, Private Investigator, was very much of the former type before coming to this particular place just a day or so before. Now? She is very much the latter. One good side-effect of this is she's drinking, but not like she normally drinks: the kinds of fare she can get here encourages her to enjoy and savor, rather than to knock back swill just as fast as she can. It slows her down.

Another is that it subconsciously helps her lift herself up a notch; she has to dress up to fit in here, has to do her hair and put on make-up she didn't sleep in. She is dressed in an electric blue night-clubber's jumpsuit with flowing pants legs and today, flowing, fluttering sleeves; something bought, new, just to wear to this //place//. Granted. She's still got combat boots on under there but they're at least clean and shined.

Tonight she's not even working. She usually is, in some form or fashion, but the truth is she's as mesmerized by the music as anyone else here. She's chosen a table near the bar, but she's currently turned away from it, leaning back into the comfortable seating and letting herself get swept away for awhile. Sure, she's got one ear open in case someone starts talking about the underworld bidding war that she's been tracking, but tonight she hasn't heard much of that. Tonight seems to be for a singer that's chosen themes she can very much appreciate.

She has a slim cigar between her fingertips. Some sort of balance of vice, or at least pain management, means that the act of slowing down her drinking has created a void that she winds up filling with nicotine. It's good stuff though, carrying a hint of vanilla in the smoke, something pleasant rather than cheap and rancid.

When //she's// the one making the choices, she finds her tastes aren't always as cheap as she might have believed them to be even as late as last week.

Ravenna Levesque has posed:
Ravenna's first night at Lux was very plesant. The bartender kept the drinks coming, but as she asked they didn't get her trashed, so she was able to spend her night dancing and blowing off steam that way. So of course on her next night off she found her way back in here. Sure that requires her to doll herself up, but it is nice to not wear her work uniform all the time. She has on a rich v-neck wine colored dress with with flowing bell sleeves and a swishy skirt. She has matching heels that add four inches to her height and a tiny clutch purse that she doesn't let out of her grasp. Once she walks in, she spends several minutes listening to the singer. There is a bit of envy at the richness of her voice, something that Ravenna wasn't even able to acheive with proper training.

After spending a song watching the band, she slwoly walks over to the bar, careful not to break her ankle in these shoes and leans on an open spot at the bar not far from Jessica. She doesn't find her cigar unplesant, the vanilla is helping that for sure. She waits however for the Bartender to finish what he's doing, and gives him a bright and beeming smile.

Lucifer has posed:
The set ends, and the singer bows to some applause, grinning with the foolish pride of youth being adored for her natural talent. It's a high anyone in entertainment would recognize. She bows again, waving, and laughs into her microphone. "Okay, we need a break!" she says, her voice a little higher and squeakier. Everyone laughs, recognizing her flushed nerves. "Back in twenty minutes," she says, before scampering off. Few people leave the area, though-- the folks with good table seats don't want to give them up.

The bartender turns to Ravenna and flashes a polite smile at the leggy blonde in heels as she perches at the bar. He's a lean fellow a hair over six feet tall, built through the chest like a swimmer. A little dark stubble and swarthy skin gives him a look of being some Mediterranean descent, though it's hard to place.

"Welcome to Lux," he tells Ravenna. "What's your pleasure?"

He looks at Jessica and winks at the dark brunette, and just as she finishes the sip of her drink, he's already got a new one made and slides it deftly into place for her to replace the empty glass with. "And Miss Jones, welcome back," he tells the private detective, clearly pleased to see her glamoured up for another night on the town at Lux.

Jessica Jones has posed:
He slides it across the bar just as Jones gets up to claim it, and a smirk touches her lips. "Thanks, Vegas," she says, with a warmth in her hard-edged alto that she hardly ever bestows on anyone for any reason. He wouldn't give her a name last time, so she grants him one now. Given the singer has taken a break she slides into the seat next to Ravenna's, putting out the cigar which was nearly done anyway. She sighs into this next drink, deeply pleased by it. 'Vegas' will earn another fantastic tip tonight, and probably every damned night she can afford to come here.

She does, however, lift a hand in a little greeting for the blonde she's settled in next to, a sort of 'hey, how are ya, I'll move again if I'm crampin' your style' sort of a wave, expressive as her face is expressive. She's too relaxed to feel hostile or cynical or anything like that, and so is remarkably cordial to even a stranger this evening, her sardonic and caustic nature set aside for once.

Ravenna Levesque has posed:
Ravenna only thinks about it for a moment before she properly slips into the chair next to her and leans on the bar. Her French-Canadian accent is thick tonight as she purses her lips. "I don't typically drink wine on my night off, but I would love a cocktail with a bit of bubbles to it. Something along the lines of a Belini, but more interesting."

Turning to Jessica the smile continues. "Oh you're fine, I'm not here with anyone. My name is Ravenna, did you say his name was Vegas? That is a very apt name for a bartender." She says with a smirk. With that she crosses her legs under the bar and people watches for a moment while she waits for her drink. "What brings you in tonight? Aisde from that fabulous singer, I am oh so jealous of her."

Lucifer has posed:
"I'm just the bartender," the bartender chuckles, shakig his head. "Miss Jones has a cute sense of humor. Goes with the rest of her," he says, flashing her an unapologetically flirty wink as he rummages under the bar for ingredients.

With a casual dexterity he juggles a glass, considering, then comes up with a bottle of sweet champagne (real champagne, not sparkling wine) and measures half a glass, then of all things, adds two ounces of actual Guiness to it and passes the creamy concotion towards Ravenna as it self-stirs according to the density of the contents. Bubbles froth and hiss in a delightful symphony, making a surprisingly sweet and creamy take on the dark stout beer.

"Black Velvet, miss," he tells Ravenna. "And if you like it, that'll be seven dollars, if you please."

"So how's work, Miss Jones?" the bartender inquires of Jessica, with a tone certainly more companionable than merely polite. He locks an elbow and rests a palm against the bar's lacquered top, resting for a moment as there's no one else ordering drinks for now.

Jessica Jones has posed:
Jessica's lips curve into an appreciative smirk as 'Vegas' shoots her that flirty wink, brown eyes taking on a hint of mischief. And if she //also// goes for a long drag on her drink in a way that indicates some conflict to a watchful eye, her overall mien is pretty much pleased, even receptive. She doesn't flirt back exactly (it is, after all, mostly against her policy as she sees it)-- but neither does she hide the appreciation.

"Nice to meet you, Ravenna. Jessica Jones, as our handsome host said. And tonight..."

Here is an answer that will almost serve for both of their queries, really, "The fantastic freaking everything brings me here tonight. Work is a little slow, so...here I am again for no other reason than I wanna be, for the moment."

Though of course, if something work related walked through the door a switch would flip and she'd be on the clock.

Still, she's not looking for it. "You a musician yourself, Ravenna?" At the end of the day, she's also a Hell of a lot more comfortable asking questions of other people than talking about herself. Natural to her line of work for one thing, and keeps her from revealing too much about herself, something that has already happened at this very bar.

Ravenna Levesque has posed:
Ravenna reaches into her tiny purse and pulls out a credit card. "I may as well open a tab this evening, I have no where to be in the morning and Uber is just a click away." She watches him finish her drink and once it is pushed over she holds up the glass to the light and narrows her eyes. "I would not have mixed those things together." Hoever after one sip, she has an appricative look on her face. "But I approve of it." Looking up to the bartender as he calls her miss, she smirks. "Ravenna, there is no need to be so formal with me."

Turning toward Jessica she nods her head. "Nothing wrong with that at all. We all need time to ourselves, even to enjoy a lovely drink and a great atmosphere. At the question, she shakes her head. "No, not at all. I at one time thought I would make a great actress, but it appears that this town is absolutely impossible to catch a break in. SO I chose another path."

Lucifer has posed:
"Ravenna it is," the bartender tells the blonde woman, dipping his head. However, he stalls the credit card with an extended palm, shaking his head. "Sorry-- no credit cards. Cash only," he tells her. "But we can open you up a tab anyway tonight, if you like," he remarks to the woman, flashing another quick, effusive smile. He's a little careful with it, if one were to pick a word. Friendly, diplomatic, but there's a subtle difference between 'polite professional' and 'good natured grin' and the former appears much more often than the latter.

"You can pay it up at the end of the week," he tells her, reaching under the bar. He pours himself a few measures of gin and vodka, drops the glass into a bucket of dry ice for fifteen seconds, then garnishes it with a twist of lime and takes a slow sip of the nearly syrupy texture of the superchilled martini.

"New York's a cruel mistress," he tells Ravenna, nodding sympathetically. "Still, you know. Some actresses don't make it big until later in life. Maybe you just needed that /push/ to be... more than you were when you first started, you know?" he inquires of Ravenna. "A little extra /something/ to bump you up to the next level."

Jessica Jones has posed:
Jessica Jones makes sympathetic noises at Ravenna's dashed hopes, but doesn't comment on them. It's not exactly a new story, after all...New York //is// a cruel mistress, and a Hell of a place to try to make a god damn living. Still, neither is she disdainful-- Ravenna is spared any of the withering looks or snarpy comments that she's more than capable of dishing out when she feels like it.

Instead, her expressive face turns thoughtful as she listens to the bartender. She doesn't insert any new words at all. She's listening to the dance of emphasis across those words, remembering a bit of conversation from yesterday. It's another puzzle piece in the puzzle represented by one 'Vegas of Lux'.

This woman is not one who can ignore a puzzle, even if there's no pressing need to solve it. And if she doesn't understand what this particular piece means, it's still being filed away, noted for the future. She seems loathe to interrupt the interaction as a result, letting them deal with the opening of tabs and the fixing of drinks while she waits to see what the other will have to say, not even interrupting, for the moment, to ask what she does now.

If asking questions is part and parcel of her business, listening? Is even more so.

Ravenna Levesque has posed:
This doesn't strike her as a place that is cash only, however there are a lot of quirky things about Lux that don't fully make sense to Ravenna, but she doesn't seem eager to pry about them either. "Very well." She says, slipping the card back into her tiny purse. The end of the week works well for her, since weekends is when she makes most of her money.

"I know hos cruel she can be. Honestly I don't know if it was a push, or too many people placating me in my youth. I had talent, for a small town outside of Quebec City, but compared to the actors here, I'm talentless. It lead me down another path that I enjoy." She says in a tone that suggests she is trying to convince herself of that statement as well. "Still, the envy is there, I doubt it will ever go away."

Lucifer has posed:
"It's hard to let that go," the Bartender says, nodding sympathetically at Ravenna. "But you know-- don't let those dreams go, either," he advises her, with a warm and gentle tone of voice. "Those dreams are what get people out of bed. They push you to always do a little better," he says. "And, who knows?" he says, breaking the spell a little by pushing upright again. "Someday, someone might come along with just the right offer and you'll be ready for it in a way you weren't when you were younger."

He looks to Jessica, and a very observant person might just notice that he changes his mind before asking her a question. "So, Miss Jones," he says, a little casual camraderie returning to his voice. "What do /you/ think of Lux so far, being our newest member?" he inquires, brow lifting. "Worth the price of admission so far?"

Jessica Jones has posed:
The answer that the bartender gives clears some of the questions from her eyes. They may be questions that return, but Jessica is having moments here where sometimes she thinks she's seeing things, and sometimes she thinks she's //imagining// things, with all the implied differences between the two. A moment before she thought she saw a puzzle piece. Now, chimeralike, she sees a friendly bartender who is very encouraging and very good at his job, who is simply engaging in the kind of barside conversational fare that anyone who is both kind and good at his job would engage in.

She flashes another one of those smirks, almost a smile, but not quite, with that hint of mischief dancing in her eyes. "If I didn't think Lux was freaking stellar, I wouldn't be spending my off-hours here. Got yourself a regular, I'm afraid, regardless of how anything else goes. Even if I have to bust all the more ass to keep affording the price of admission."

And he already knows about Anything Else.

Does he know that his smile alone produced at least 50% of this new customer loyalty? But not in the way any handsome man's smile might. It was different.

Chimera. Lux is a place of chimera.

But she hasn't forgotten Ravenna either, and she says, "What //do// you do these days? What keeps you in New York?"

Ravenna Levesque has posed:
Ravenna looks thoughtfully at the Bartender with out a name as he makes his case. She raises one brow as she ships from her beverage and shrugs one shoulder. "Perhaps. The dream isn't gone, but the lights are not shinning as brightly as they did before. I suppose I will just have to wait until that day comes, if it does." Part of her is doubtful, chances like that don't fall into people's laps, at least not with out strings attached.

Turning back to Jessica she raches into her purse and pulls out a card case. One side of the case holds a black card, the otherside holds a white. She pulls out a white one for Jessica and passes it over. "I became a Sommelier. I spend my days trying to figoure out what people want to drink, and usually have that one asshole who thinks he knows more about France's growing season than I do." The card case is closed and slipped back into her purse. "It's a great job, but a lot of my time is spent either at the restaurant, or helping my aunt at her shop."

Lucifer has posed:
"That's very French," the Bartender says-- and then he laughs, the tone easy and good natured. It fills their little sitting area like a low bell ringing, and it's terribly infectious. "Gosh, that was a cheap shot. The French aren't that bad. The Quebecois redeem them." Ravenna gets a flashing grin-- a sincere one. He's got the sort of smile that can change the temperature in a room. He follows her card with interest, taking a peek as it's passed over.

"That's one of the reasons I prefer being a cocktail artisan," the bartender says, picking up a lowball glass. He rolls it up his forearm, *pops* it off his elbow, and catches it in his other hand. "It's all just recipes. Nice and easy. I don't have to worry about how someone's tongue will react to a little too much salt in the wine, or if they're finicky about the sugar contents of the grapes. I read somewhere that physically speaking, very few people can even /taste/ a difference between cheap and fine wines. Isn't that crazy?" he inquires, checking drinks for refill needs, and giving Jessica's nearly-done cigar a questioning upnod.

Jessica Jones has posed:
"/I/ can't taste the difference," Jessica says dryly. "But I sure appreciate wine. And I guess if I //could// taste the difference I'd want the good stuff. I sure can taste the difference between drinking here and drinking anywhere else though so...maybe it will be the same when I eventually swing by Ravenna's spot out of sheer curiosity."

She takes the business card, and tucks it away. She might not have much need for someone in Ravenna's profession per se, but her own is certainly built on contacts, and let's face it, she's interested in any place she can get any kind of liquor. She takes out a card of her own, sliding it over. Never know when Ravenna or her aunt might need a PI.

Meanwhile, she watches this flair bartending with appreciation, the harder edge in her eyes that sometimes lingers there easing off again. He gives that questioning upnod about her cigar, and she nods in return.

Ravenna Levesque has posed:
The Bartender's smile is contagious and she mirrors it as she continues her drink. Though her features darken for just a moment when he almost calls her French. He does correct himself and she finally laughs. "Well they are far superior if you ask me, I am not at all biased." She is definatly at ease, the Black Velvet is helping and she quickly finishes it off. A touch uncouth, but she doesn't seem to mind.

"Some of my favorite wines are cheap wines. Half the time you're paying for a label anyway. Just don't let my coworkers know, they'd disown me." She takes the card with a grin, giing it a once over before she slides it into her purse. Her eyes wander around the place, picking up bits and pieces here and there. Things not every normal human can see, but she doesn't dare point them out.

Lucifer has posed:
Hearing Jessica's suggestion, the bartender gives the slender brunette a gimlet, contemplative look, and holds a finger up. "One second," he requests, moving to a different part of the bar. He disappears around a corner and emerges a few seconds later, with a bottle of wine in his left hand and three little glasses-- samplers-- in his right. The wine bottle is immaculately clean, but the label's faded almost to the point of unreadability.

"This is a bottle of Le Petit Bordeaux from one of the /best/ vineyards in the Rhine region, during the summer of 1955," he says. "A good hot year for grapes."

He drives a corkscrew through the bottletop and pops it open, taking a whiff, then pours three ounces out in total, one for each glass. One to Ravenna, one to Jessica, one for himself.

"Not to cast asperions on a professional drinker like yourself, Miss Jones," he says, rolling her name around as if he enjoys saying it, "but even experts can stand to have their horizons broadened a little."

He hoists his glass in cheers and takes a lingering sip, watching to see the reaction from the two women.

Jessica Jones has posed:
For her part, Jessica Jones looks intrigued. Very intrigued. She takes her little sampler glass. He takes a whiff, so...she does too. She's an 'expert' drinker in that she can probably drink every patron here under the table (though probably not the bartender himself), but not in that she is refined. It does smell good. A rare smile passes over her face, whether because she feels like she's being treated, is having her horizons broadened, or simply because every single second she's here has been some kind of new and mostly pleasant surprise-- and this is a woman who mostly expects surprises to suck.

She hoists her glass in a return cheers, that smile lingering for a moment. She glances at the both of them, observing how they do this. Because that's another part of the job...learning. The woman collects knowledge like some people collect trading cards. She learns little tidbits that might help her pick up a role later, or ask the right questions.

There is never a time she would turn down having her horizons broadened, though neither of them could truthfully know that until perhaps this moment, when she even takes in how they position their hand on the glass and subtely makes the adjustment to do the same.

When she finally takes her own lingering sip, her eyes widen.

"Holy. Shit."

She'd mostly avoided swearing in the bar. It was part of her own chameleon-act, her understanding that her rough language might set her apart in a place where she's been trying to blend in. But that one slips right out.

"Ok...well...maybe I can tell the difference on some level after all."

Ravenna Levesque has posed:
Ravenna is intrigued when he comes back around the corner, though she holds her hand up, mostly in jest. "I don't usually drink wine when I am off the clock." She begins, but hearing just what that bottle /is/ she smirks. "Oh but I can make an exception for that." She knows that this is a treat, a rare treat, and the fact that he has this laying around only makes this place all the more intrigueing.

She watches him open the bottle, doing it much the same way that she would. Once her glass is poured she swirls the liquid in the glass before holding it up to the light. "So many different names to describe something so mundane. If you watch carefully, the drops on the side of the glass tell you how high the alcohol content is, or how sweet the wine will be. For some god awful reason someone decided to call it the legs of the wine." She scoffs. "The Spanish call them tears, and I think that name is a better fit, don't you?" From there she takes a smell of the glass, mentally going over what notes she's finding in there, but not saying them outloud. Some people find it annoying, and also, she's not on the clock. Finally she sips from the glass and smiles. "Bliss, I have a feeling this will add a lot to my tab this evening." She says with a wicked smile. After all, the bottle is already open.

Lucifer has posed:
"We'll have to talk about getting you a membership," the Bartender tells Ravenna, pouring her a couple more ounces. "In fact, I might offer you some work. Would be nice to have an expert sommeliere on staff to do wine tastings. That's a little more work than I wanna put into it, but it brings in the high rollers," he chuckles.

He turns to Jessica and smiles at her, a grin of unmitigated pleasure at her stunned reaction to the (admittedly) exceptional wine. He not only seems to relish being her gateway to such finery, it's obvious that her wide-eyed receptiveness to such a gesture is no small flattering nod to his ego.

It's hard not to smile back at a pretty girl discovering new things, and the grin he flashes at Jessica is almost luminescent. Even Ravenna, caught in the periphery of the smile, would get a whiff of it-- sunshine, fresh cotton, a hint of earth and sea. Jessica's shocked curse earns her the full brunt of it, the poor thing.

Jessica Jones has posed:
And there it is. There is liquid happy. Jessica should be suspicious of it, the way Vegas' smile pulls a smile out of her as well, makes her breath catch, makes her chase after this sensation of something so long lost. She certainly has a dark enough history with people //making her smile//, but this is different than //that// darkness too. This is pure light. This is what has brought her back, even on a night where she already knows, thanks to pretexting her quarry's schedule out of a hapless secretary, that she won't get any further on her case here tonight. This.

Her heart skips a beat, and her policy of just opening her mouth and saying what she wants almost drives a hundred propositions to her tongue, ones that all want to see what //else// she can do to get a smile. But...all the reasons why //happiness// is such a foreign and addictive drug to her put a hard cautionary hand out to everything inside of her. 'Vegas' hasn't even shared a name. There's a thousand more things to him that meet the eye, including his ability to offer that 5% //finder's fee// he dangled out in front of her yesterday. That cautionary hand whispers that he is as dangerous as he is intoxicating. A dangerous unsolved puzzle is not someone to treat like a quickie picked up at Josie's and discarded like yesterday's whiskey bottle.

The smile lingers on her own face. A grin, even, an expression so foreign it makes the muscles in her cheeks hurt a little. But it's the darker and more cautious thoughts that have her finishing the little sampler glass and pushing back at last. "No more running up the tab for me tonight, I'm afraid," she says. "I think it's time for me to find my way back home. Always a pleasure," to the bartender, and, to Ravenna, "And nice meeting you. I'm sure we'll run into each other again soon. Probably," she says with a wry laugh-- a sound which is as foreign to her as the expression on her face, "here."

Giganta has posed:
Giganta arrives at the club, having recently joined and enjoying her newfound status as a member. She's clad in a deep V pantsuit, silky and black, the flowing fabric swooshing around her ankles. In her heels, she's close to seven feet tall, standing out in any crowd as she makes her way towards the bar.

"Wine tonight, I think," she says, eying Lucifer's interaction with Jessica with an artfully arched brow, her dark auburn hair sweeping down between her bared shoulderblades.

Ravenna Levesque has posed:
"Membership? I could look into that." However when Lucifer suggests holding a winetasting there, a wicked, nearly devlish grin crosses her lips. Leaning forward she lowers her voice just a touch. "Given the right bottles, I could have a entire room spending more money on bottles of wine they do not need, than suggesting that they must try the cocktails at the bar, they're absolutely divine." That smile is odd. It's a fantastic smile and Ravenna finds herself really enjoying it, but normal people do not smile like that. Reaching into her purse, she once again takes out the silver card case and reaches for the white card, but instead pulls out a black card and hands it to him. It looks like there is nothing on it, but in the right light, the words Illusion illumate on the card, along with a number. "Name the time, I'll give you a wine list and a small menu and we'll empty pockets by the time the night is done. So long as I get a decent cut that is." She takes the wine glass and gets to her feet. "Just call me when you're ready."

As Jessica gets up to leave, she gives her a smile and a nod. "Apparently since a membership is due, I am sure I will see you again." She waves to Giganta as she enters, but takes a few steps from the bar. "I will be back shortly, don't give too much of that bottle away."