Owner	Pose
Remy LeBeau	The more things change, the more they stay the same. And in a place designed to be as timeless as the Blue Lady, things change very little. At the door Axe, a Hispanic man about molly's age had given her a huge hug and offered to show her how his baby girl had grown... though then his phone tried to fritz out. Smash, the heavily tattoo'd former gang banger had come out of the kitchen to say hello, and Crush the nearly 7' tall bald black man, who was actually a werebear had grinned broadly. Last Yosa, the one-eyed bartender who gave off serious Mac vibes had nodded to her and pulled out a bottle of apple juice. A running joke that he could not be convinced she was actually over 21. This last though was met with a casual, "You missed the boss. He'll be upset to find out he missed you."
Molly Carpenter	The Blue Lady -- a club that ran /so/ counter to every fiber of Molly's very being that it actually came full circle around the globe and back to settle as something like a home away from home. It wasn't the place so much as the people, of course. Her relationship with Thomas was... complicated, but the staff might as well have been family. This place was better that Cheers for a serotonin boost. "Yes!" she'd gushed into Axe's hug before thinking about it, and as soon as his phone started fritzing, she cringed and shied away. "Sorry. Hope you have those synced to the cloud." Then, as she sashays herself across the dance floor in full gothiparel, there had been Smash and Crush, 'the twins' she so lovingly and ironically called them. And finally Molly's smirking at Yosa as she settles onto a stool. "What? No sippy cup?" She rolls her eyes, grinning. Whatever. But then there's the mention of the boss, and a soft sigh escapes her lips. "Ah well. I'm sure he'll get over it." A beat, then, as she pushes the bottle back across with her fingertips. "Come on.. just this once? You /know/ I can't get a new ID because every time I go down to get my picture taken, their stupid system fritzes out." Right.
Remy LeBeau	Yosa just grunts but offers a benevolant smile and steps away, coming back with an Appletini and shaking his head at the girl. He sighs though and steps away, letting her enjoy her drink. A Few moments later a voice beside he asks with a chuckle, "So yah de owner's daughter or somet'ing? De whole staffd seem ta take a likin' ta yah." the man is older then her, though not obscenely, wearing dark sunglasses despite being indoor and sipping a beer with slow relish. More taking in the Club's atmosphere then trying to get drunl.
Molly Carpenter	"I love you," Molly calls after Yosa when he drops off her appletini and stalks back off, smiling happily down at her drink. Picking it up rather happily, she takes a tentative sniff and then a sip, wiggling her shoulders a bit and smiling. Lost in her own little world. Until she's ripped out of it by the voice from beside her. Mid-sip, she pulls the cone-shapped glass away from her lips and then uses her finger to catch a bit of spill in her chin before setting it back down so she can laugh properly. Blue eyes shift over to him, taking in the sunglassed man's face with a warm smile. "He's kinda more like a lecherous uncle," she quips. It's hard to judge the seriousness of that statement with all of the playfulness in her eyes, though, and she folds her arms to rest them on the edge of the counter. "Besides, why can't it just be because I'm that likable?" Then there's a little tilt of her head that shifts her purple hair over a bit more to one shoulder and exposes the milky curve of her jaw, a flash of youthful defiance in her eyes.
Remy LeBeau	Remy LeBeau grins a little bit, "Ah c'n believe dat, but non. See if yah were jus' likeab le, maybe yah get a free drink, dough Ah doubt from dat guy. Maybe de guy at de door wit' de tomahawk let yah skip de line ta get in... but foh /all/ dat attention, yah in tight wit' de owner." He grins a little bit looking the girl over apprasingly, "Not ta mention yah not really dress foh de t'eme of de place but no one bat an eye. Not dat yah don' seem down right likeable ta Remy mind...
Molly Carpenter	"You doubt from /Yosa/?" Molly asks, shifting her eyes back over to the bartender and back again, making a little clicking noise with her tongue. "He's a big softy. He's just plays hard to get." No. He didn't. But the thought of it made the woman laugh again, eyes sparkling with that perpetual humor. But then her draw drops open at the mention of not being dressed for the place. "/And/ you insult my outfit? I'll have you know that this is /vintage/..." As if to make a point, she plucks at the shirt -- some now-defunct punk rock band from a few years ago. She does shift to face him, though, humor still lingering in her eyes and the corners of her lips. He's seen the look from women plenty of times before -- immediately enthralled by his looks and his accent. It's just that this one is a bit more petulant than most. "We /really/ need to work on your pickup lines. Try something like this..." She clears her throat and shakes her head to straighten her hair around her face, doing her /best/ to look serious and /smolder/. "Is your dad a boxer? Because you're a knockout."
Remy LeBeau	Remy LeBeau looks amused, though his eyes are still hidden behind the sunglasses, "Oh tell me dat is not de best one dat yah've 'eard even dis week. Let's see what would be a good one..." He gives her a slow look over and smirks, "'Pw about Do yah got some over due library books chere, cause yah got fine written all ovah yah." his grin wickedly playful challangeing. As if to say that he could do this all night..
Molly Carpenter	Molly laughs warmly, but the sound is brief, quickly strangled by her attempts to maintain her composure. She draws in a breath through her nose and squares her shoulders, because apparently posture was a big part of the delivery. "Well I'm not a photographer, but I can definitely picture us together," she delivers, adding a wink at the end and reaching forward to take her glass of appletini, a sip from its contents in apparently assumed triumph.
Remy LeBeau	Remy LeBeau grins slowly and waits for her to start to take a drink before saying "Oh is dat so? Well yah see when yah sat down 'ere Ah was blinded by yah beauty, So Ah t'ink Ah'm gonna need yah name and numbah, foh insurance purposes." He offers and goes to take a drink of his own beer.
Molly Carpenter	/Almost/ a spit-take. Molly curls her lips and forces herself to swallow, setting the glass down and nodding her acquiescence. "Well played," she concedes, still licking her lips as she offers the man her hand in greeting. "I appreciate a man that can duel cheesy pickup lines without missing a beat." That smile returns to her lips as she finds his nose to focus on. She didn't mind the sunglasses. At least it meant she didn't accidentally get locked in a soulgaze. "I'm Molly."
Remy LeBeau	Remy LeBeau takes the hand with a smile, "A pleasure ta meet yah Molly. Yah c'n call me Remy..." Then without releasing her hand he leans over whispering something softly in her ear in what is obviously French, "Essayez de vous rappeler ce nom cher. Vous allez le crier plus tard." His smirk a little wicked as he pulls back.
Molly Carpenter	The lean-in is unexpected but not unwelcome. Molly linger there, letting Remy whisper his sweet, French nothings in her ear as a soft moan -- one that's at least half put-on, but may very well be to cover up an actual reaction to the words -- escapes her lips. "You're sure you're not one of Thomas's?" The White Court of Vampires. It was a compliment wrapped up in an inside joke that Remy wasn't actually meant to get. He wasn't one of Thomas's, of course. The pull she felt wasn't the supernaturally intoxicating sensation she felt around Thomas. It was, instead, an entirely naturally intoxicating sensation... a combination of charm, looks, and confidence that was hard to resist. Even if she /was/ sitting in Thomas's club. Ugh. It was /fine/, but still.. ugh. Her hand is still lingering in his when he draws back again, meeting that wicked smirk with a grin of her own. "Not to be forward, but.. what are the chances you want to get out of here?"
Remy LeBeau	Remy LeBeau grins slowly, not very unlike the cat that not only got the cream but managed to frame the dog. "Why chere, Ah was just t'inking de exact same t'ing." He offers, standing up and pulling his long tan duster over his shoulders and offering the younger woman his arm to lead her out of the Club and into the balmy Bludhaven night.