[Fiction] Of Dreams and Desires

[Velvet]

“There are two tragedies in life. One is to lose your heart's desire... the other is to gain it.” --George Bernard Shaw

The sun had long since slipped below the horizon when Velvet began quietly folding up the pajamas she’d worn the night before. They were pale blue flannel, and slightly threadbare around the cuffs, as if constantly being trod upon or pushed back. The buttons were loose, and two had clearly been replaced, but she placed them in her overnight bag with all the care of someone boxing up antique crystal. Her fingertips brushed the neat square of fabric; she smiled, and the feeling of comfort she derived from the faded material was renewed. The pj’s were one of her “dark secrets,” things people wouldn’t have expected from a stripper or, more recently, a fetish club employee. She smoothed the sheets back into place on Warren’s bed and closed the bag before tugging on her jacket and slinging the satchel over her shoulder.

As silently as she could, she pulled a pair of loose workout pants on and zipped up the front of the matching windbreaker. It wasn’t exactly a stylish ensemble, she reflected with a faint grin, but it did do wonders for covering up the glossy outfit she had to wear at work, and she was already running late.

Mental note, she admonished herself. Do not stay up all night eating mesquite barbecue chips and Triple Ripple Vanilla Road Monkey ice cream on Warren’s couch while watching 12 hours of AMC’s “Greatest Western Films of the Last 50 Years” marathon.

Velvet crept out of the bedroom and down the short hallway, carefully avoiding the gleaming and immaculate weaponry displayed on the walls. Warren was apparently still asleep, one arm hanging lazily off the side of the couch, and she made every effort not to disturb him as she hurried out. Her lips twisted in a grimace when the door creaked and refused to close completely; she had a feeling he left it that way deliberately, having an intimate understanding of exactly how paranoid the man called “Revenant” could be. When nothing stirred inside, she tugged the obstinate door shut with a muffled thud and skipped down the stairs, mentally preparing herself for her first night back at The Tempest Club in over two weeks.

[Warren Verona]

A few hours later Warren woke up. Rather, Warren fell off the couch and was by default roused into wakefulness. Staggering slightly while his muscles and mind strived to start functioning he walked to the fridge a grabbed himself a beer. He walked from the hall to his bedroom knocking on the door first before quietly pushing it open.

His heart sank a bit. He had asked Violet to take the night off from The Tempest Club, informing her that he had something very important to show her tonight, something that would finally help to restore some balance in her life.

With a slightly irritated sigh he shrugged it off. What was done is done, so he’d just move on to plan B and show her later, when she was off work. He grabbed a white box, bound in red ribbon, from the closet and headed for Velvet’s place.

*****

His key twisted in the lock and slowly he pushed the door open. The sight never stopped hurting him. Her apartment was practically bare. A sofa, but nothing else adorned the living area. A television rest upon the floor with a slew of old westerns scattered about near it. Her bed was gone. Everything she owned was sold off to cover her debts incurred by the loss of her nightclub a couple months back.

He placed the gift box down on the countertop of the bar that connected to the kitchen. Plopping himself down on the sofa, he scooped up her laptop and resigned himself to have time to kill until she got off work later.

[Velvet]

The re-opening of The Tempest Club after an unnerving period of violence was a fairly well-publicized event among Chicago’s fetish crowd, and its patrons and their friends showed up in record numbers. So much so that, pursuant to the fire codes of the city, many would-be celebrants were turned away at the door. Outside, a velvet rope cordoned off the entryway, and as clubgoers departed, more people from the slowly dwindling line were allowed in. For most of the late summer night, the place was filled to capacity.

Inside, “Desdemona” and the other girls under Prospero’s rule were kept busy moving from one room to the next, attending to clients’ needs. In fact, the club was so busy, many of the regular customers who required more in-depth and intensive attention- those who preferred the Red and Black Rooms- simply didn’t have the patience to wait. As a nova, the violet-maned vixen named for Othello’s doomed wife was in high demand throughout the course of the evening, and she more than earned her pay.

In the White Room, she peeled off a gleaming white vinyl catsuit with tantalizing slowness as a roomful of groaning men slavered over every inch of exposed flesh. The harnesses meant to restrain them lay slack and unused; she had a far more effective means of depriving the grovelling baselines of the pleasures of her body. With her skin tingling at the eddies of quantum that flowed through her, they could grasp and smack and stroke all they liked, and all in vain. They passed right through her, as though she were a phantom with all the seeming of a living woman, and their frustration at being so close and completely unable to touch her was a heady rush of emotion for the empathic nova.

In the Green Room, she lay perfectly still and quiescent as a group of businessmen idly plucked finger foods from her stomach, legs, and chest. She might as well have been part of the room’s décor while they discussed profits and promotions, and it suited her just fine. Her shapely nude form was furniture here, eye candy, and the submissiveness and mild humiliation it implied apparently was all these power-mongers and suit mannequins needed. Easiest hour I’ve had all night, she thought lazily, barely batting an eyelash when one of them casually dipped a plump grilled shrimp into the bowl of orange ginger sauce at the apex of her thighs.

She flitted from one session to the next, tormenting a client with a slender length of cane in one room and being verbally abused in the next. Her mind whirled with activity, thoughts moving at the same frantic pace of the music that throbbed through the building like a pulse. There wasn’t time to be tired, but after forcing her way through the gyrating throng on the dance floor for at least the tenth time, she signalled to one of the security staff that she was taking a break.

“Christ,” she muttered, crossing her legs on the bench as she lit up a cigarette and opened a link to the OpNet from her phone. “It’s crazy out there tonight.” Surprisingly, the chat room she frequented was full of people, and she decided to pop in for a little while. With a quick glance at the clock, she logged in. As usual, it didn’t take long to see that the familiar jibes and arguments were already well underway. Well, at least in general terms. Between GMoT, Rev, and some guy calling himself Machina she’d only encountered the night before, the room was full of innuendo and mildly insulting banter.

A plume of sweet-scented smoke swirled up over her head as she exhaled, grinning in spite of herself. A new prick, an old prick, and the hottest metal chick since ‘Goldfinger’ hit theaters. Oh, sign me up for the wacky hijinks. Knockout seemed to be in good spirits after her encounter with Wakinyan; she silently thanked whomever was listening that the newly-erupted bombshell wasn’t playing the walk-on role of Wife #3. Ultimax and Machina swapped intravenous testosterone drips and even Stellar, she was pleased to find, had apparently healed up completely. Another fun-filled night, she mused, taking another drag from her cigarette. Revenant, however… Well, that was another story altogether, and a frown knitted her slender purple brows together. She’d flirted with him in the past (mostly in jest), both in the chat rooms and in the time they spent together, but the incident earlier… when he’d put her to bed… left her feeling immensely unsettled.

The chime broke the silence, signalling the start of the two o’clock hour. It prevented any further contemplation of the matter and she quickly logged out of the chat room and severed the OpNet connection. Idly, she tugged the top of her corset up, wincing slightly as the boning shifted. She glanced over the duty roster, grumbled about being overwired and underpaid, and headed back out to the madhouse that awaited her.

-------=}@{=-------

“See you ladies tomorrow night,” Velvet called hastily, offering a quick wave as she scurried out the side door of the building. As easily as she'd sloughed off the clothing she wore to work and changed back into more comfortable attire, she discarded her employee name and mindset in favor of her natural one. Apart from the brilliant violet hair, in the wee hours of the Chicago morning she could’ve been any dancer heading home for the night. Her boots and uniforms were all neatly tucked away in the overnight bag she’d taken to Warren’s apartment, and her stride was confident, if a bit languid. It was after three o’clock, and as she walked in the direction of her building, waiting for a cab to pass, she wondered idly what in the world he had planned at that hour.

Ten minutes later, she handed the cabbie his fare, jogged slowly up the stairs, and walked through the door of her home.

[Warren Verona]

Warren was up and aware the moment her key hit the tumblers. He’d dozed off on her sofa waiting for her to get home. The chat room wasn’t particularly interesting that night, just another contest of who was cooler. He hoped one day the world would learn that he was just the best thing to happen to the planet since The Big Bang.

He sat up, brushing stray hairs from his field of vision shaking away his nap while she tossed her bag on the floor just inside her entrance way. “Hey.” He greeted her. Never being one for hellos he just nodded his head in her direction.

“Morning Sunshine.” She replied, her voice crisp and almost cheerful despite her rough night at The Tempest Club. She stepped into the kitchen, heading for the fridge to get her ritual after work beverage. “Warren! You drank the damn Kool-Aid… again!” She stomped over to the bar, looking out and over to him flailing an empty pitcher in her hands as if to beat him with it.

“Fresh pitcher in the freezer. Made it about a half hour ago.” He grinned, suddenly happy he remembered to replenish her supply.

Violet tilted her head, smiled, and raised and eyebrow. “Wow. What did you? The only time you’re this nice is when-” Her sentence was cut off. Distracted by the white box with the red ribbon wrapped binding it. “W-what’s this?”

“Open it and see.” He pushed himself off the couch, running his hands through his hair one last time. With a lazy groan he stretched his still mending muscles, filling her apartment with a creepy nether worldly whine. He paced himself walking slowly towards her, as she examined the box.

“Warren. What is this? Is this your big surprise? It’s sweet of you, but you know you didn’t have to get me anything. Don’t get wrong, I’m sure it’s great but I didn’t get you anything so now I’m going to feel ba-” Once again cut off, this time by a gentle index finger pressed against her perpetually glossed lips.

“Just open the damn box.” Warren chuckled, obviously attempting to stifle a laugh.

[Velvet]

Warily, Velvet peered up at Warren through a veil of dark lashes as she tugged the wide red ribbon loose. From experience, she was well aware that the only time he made such blatantly thoughtful gestures was when he’d screwed up… big time. She wracked her brain as she turned her attention to the box itself, trying to recall an argument or incident that would require him to give her anything.

“Well, at least it’s not ticking,” she quipped.

“What, you kidding? I don’t even use digital timers, much less the old analog ones.” A lazy grin crept over his ashen features as he leaned on the counter. “What kind of amateur do you think I am?”

“The kind who gets a bill from the ACME company every week,” the slightly weary nova retorted quickly, tossing the remnants of the bow in Warren’s direction. She grinned as he batted it aside. Moments like this, she decided- when they didn’t have to be the death-shrouded mercenary thief and the formerly heroin-addicted whore- were what made the unusual friendship worthwhile. Never in a million years would she have thought, when she first spoke with him online back in March, that the foul-mouthed, violent, and impossibly crude nova she knew would end up being her best friend. Funny how that works out sometimes, she chuckled inwardly.

She lifted the lid on the flat, rectangular box and blinked. Her gaze flicked pointedly from Warren to the contents of the package and back again. One violet brow arched quizzically, and she tugged a crisp white fitted blouse from beneath the thin layer of tissue paper. Lifting it by the shoulders, she wore an expression that bespoke confusion and utter bewilderment, especially when she noted the carefully faded pair of jeans that lay beneath it.

“Um… Warren?" she asked slowly. "Why did you buy me clothes?”

[Warren Verona]

“Well.” Warren said. “That is part of the surprise.” He winked at her playfully. He was obviously enjoying all the cloak and dagger games he was playing with Velvet’s mind tonight.

He arched eyebrow and half grin told him she wasn’t buying it. “So!” He said loudly while smacking his hands together and walking from the bar. “What your going to do, is get cleaned up. Throw on yer new threads. Walk out that door with me. And finally, be thoroughly ‘wowed’ by what I have to show you.”

He fell onto her sofa, tossing a pillow on the opposite side up into the air a ways. Waving his hand in an arrogant manner he ‘brushed’ her off into the direction of the bathroom. “Go. Go on… shoo… get a move on.” The Cheshire grin was now spanning past his ears in a manner the even The Joker would be envious.

Oh. He was enjoying this.

[Velvet]

The temptation to throw the empty pitcher at Warren's head was almost overwhelming.

"You are so lucky I like you, you know that?" she muttered, pulling the tags off the blouse and jeans and tossing the bits of plastic onto the counter. She was still grumbling when the bathroom door closed behind her.

"What the hell is he up to? Since when does he dictate what I wear... And since when," she frowned, "does he want me in long sleeves and pants?"

If you're so curious, why don't you just peek into his brain for a second? It's not as if he'd know...

Velvet paused for a moment, glancing up into the mirror as the thought slithered its way around her mind. She stood there, peering at her reflection in the too-critical way that women do who want to ignore weightier matters... like sneaking around in someone's head to figure out the surprise they have planned for you. Hm. Skin looks better. Hair's still crap. Eyeliner's smudged to hell. Screw it, she thought, tugging at one eyelid experimentally. I'll just take a shower and throw on some makeup.

30 minutes later, the scent of vanilla wafted through the apartment as Velvet wandered out of the bathroom. The blouse was a bit tight, but the jeans (a full size smaller than what she'd been wearing, she noted with surprise) fit perfectly. They'd been painstakingly frayed, abraded and bleached to lend the impression of long use.

Barefoot, with her damp hair combed back from her face, she padded out into the living room. A soft 'thud' broke the silence as she dropped her boots onto the floor, sat down on the simple chest that served as a coffee table, and tugged on a pair of purple-striped toe socks.

"Okay," she began as she shoved her feet into the well-worn Docs and looked expectantly up at the figure sprawled on her couch. "Now what?"

[Warren Verona]

For a half hour he chuckled to himself. The excitement he was feeling was nothing short of ‘giddy’. He sat puzzled on the couch for quite some time wondering why in the world he ever denied himself such simple expressions like joy, or mischief.

"Okay," she began as she shoved her feet into the well-worn Docs and looked expectantly up at the figure sprawled on her couch. "Now what?"

“Now.” He began. “My Pretty Purple Pinup Girl, you trust me. I’m going to blindfold you; we’re going up to the roof. You’re going to hop into my arms, and I’m going to jump off. After a short flight, you will be face to face with your surprise.” He winked, his grin growing more and more by the moment. “C’mon. You’ll love it.”

“Uh, gee Warren. Sounds great. But uh, could you just do one thing?” Her head shook in a confused manner, like she didn’t understand half the babble the excited man was spewing her way.

Pulling his duster on over his shoulders, already prepared to leave, he asked. “What’s that?”

“Could you wait until after we get to the roof top to blind fold me?” She hopped up from the chest and walked past him heading for the door. “I’d appreciate it, doll.” Her grin told him that she was willing to play along, for now, but her patience was already wearing thin, and that whatever it was he had for her, it better be good. The last time he pulled her strings like this he was tormented with an imaginary housefly buzzing around his head annoying him for a few hours.

And Warren wouldn’t like it any other way. The sounds of maniacal laughter filled his head silently. He was rather relieved that for once it was him who was doing it.

*****

He hated to do it honestly. He had been ‘dying’ to take Velvet flying one night just her and him together among the clouds. Granted, taking every pretty lady who batted her lashes at him on a flight around Chicago really wasn’t his plan, but like Sylvan, if it was something that would make Velvet happy, he’d gladly do it. That’s why he hated having to blindfold her tonight. It was a lovely night and it was the first time she had ever been cradled in his arms soaring the skies with the summer night’s breeze caressing them gently.

“Don’t worry. I gotcha.” He told her as his body shifted and wings battered the air violently to halt their descent to the ground. His foot touched down and the other was already in a half step moving towards their location before Velvet realized they had landed. Setting her down he took her hand and led her to the doors to Club Babylon.

Brian, the Szechuan delivery guy was there, just as planned. He guided her carefully through the open door that Brian held and deftly slipped a c-note into the baseline’s palm. Brian was a good guy, and an honest acquaintance of Velvet’s. When Warren called him he was more than happy to place his food order, and wait patiently for them to arrive so he could slip Velvet inside without hearing any doors open. Okay, the tip was nice too.

The scent of fresh paint, carpet, and woodwork assailed her senses. Holding her hand still ever so gently, he positioned her so she could see all of the entrance to the club from where she stood.

The bar, the dining tables, and even ‘their’ booth, the one they shared a dinner in the night he met her for the first time in person. Both had a place set for them and the black candles flickered in the low-lit room of reds and purples.

Quietly, and with care he removed her blindfold, giving her sight the new and rebuilt Club Babylon. “Welcome, Violet, to Club Babylon, where you can find all the Seven Deadly Sins, in one convenient location.”

He took a single step away from her, engulfing himself in the ambient shadows of the entryway. This was her moment. He sat quietly and allowed her all the time she needed.

[Velvet]

“Welcome, Violet, to Club Babylon, where you can find all the Seven Deadly Sins, in one convenient location.”

What she’d expected to happen… didn’t. There was no loud music, no half-naked girls, no all-night Jack Palance movie marathon. There was a distinct shortage of military weaponry, beer kegs, wide-screen pornos and sorority slumber parties, and notably absent were the after-hours boutiques and clubs she teased Warren about visiting.

Instead, she felt a painful tightness in her chest as her heart stopped for the briefest of moments.

Illuminated only by candlelight, the main room of the building was every bit as striking as she’d hoped it would be. Red and violet glass glittered, and hints of gilding glimmered opulently here and there in the soft light. Without a sound, her feet carried her hesitantly forward over the plush crimson carpeting. Her fingertips gently traced the back of a dining chair, flowing over the tablecloth and away again before moving delicately over the restored murals and fireplace. She wandered in a dreamlike state, seemingly without any particular course or destination, from one end of the spacious room to the other. Her hands never stopped moving; she touched everything from the interior pillars to the bottles behind the bar, flitting languidly from one surface to the next as if only by verifying their solidity could she be convinced they were real.

As serene as she appeared, eyes wide with childlike wonder and lips slightly parted, Velvet’s mind whirled in a state of utter chaos. Emotions fluxed and shifted between exultation and anger without any apparent hope of resolution, and thoughts raced like arcs of white lightning through the turbulent storm of her consciousness.

Who did this? God, it’s amazing. It looks just exactly as I wanted. Why? Was it Warren? Surely not… How could he afford it? How could anyone afford it? Hell, I couldn’t. Still can’t! I don’t understand… It’s not mine anymore. What purpose does this serve? It’s perfect, though, except for-

Her silent ramblings ended abruptly, replaced by the simple, overwhelming feeling of awe. Above the bar, framed in the tangle of gilt leaves, vines, and pendant grapes that had made her fall in love at first sight, hung The Mirror. Her fingertips hovered just above the slightly darkened glass, trembling visibly with emotion. Not even so much as a hairline crack marred its aged surface; the tiny imperfections she remembered remained. It had survived nearly a century before being destroyed, and never had she been so acutely aware of the weight of that time on an object as she was in that moment. Vision blurred, and twin rivulets of crystal rolled down her cheeks.

“Oh, god,” she whispered, elation illuminating her features with beatific radiance even in the dim light. “I don’t understand… I-it was all gone. Warren, I spent three days here, it was obliterated.” Turning on her heel, she instinctively sought out the distinctive topaz gleam of Revenant’s eyes in the darkness. “What happened? How did you know?” Then, just as abruptly, her hand fell away, never quite making contact with the immense mirror. The shadows seemed darker suddenly, and the look of sheer amazement resolved itself into something bordering on despair.

“Warren… I can’t…” She shook her head slowly, sighing in defeat as her throat constricted around the words. “Warren, I bought out of the lease last month. I couldn’t afford it. This place… It doesn’t belong to me anymore.”

[Warren Verona]

Warren stepped out from the shadows, the glimmer of his eyes offering the only indication of his presence still in the room. He was remaining quiet, giving the time she needed to take it all in.

Approaching the wall, he twisted a knob that controlled the lighting, illuminating the whole room, faintly, but enough that the candles were no longer the dominant source of light.

He folded his arms over his chest, a sincere grin of gratification across his lips (a rare thing indeed from him) as he watched her gaze upon her new nightclub. He could tell that she was both overjoyed but incredibly confused. “Well, for starters, I had some cash set aside. So I called a few novas. Old enemies and not quite allies came and assisted me in the repairs work. Maybe you’ve heard of them? Long, he and I did most the heavy lifting. His wife Timeslip, who did a marvelous job with your mirror I think, not to mention several other priceless relics you had around here. Singularity, who surprisingly in person is not that bad of a guy, just a tad on the ‘I’m not quite all here’ side, helped out tremendously. He practically rebuilt the kitchen from scratch. Procyon, helped out too, he’s the only idiot I know that’ll dress up for physical labor like he’s going in for a photo shoot for GQ. He makes a great welder, if his job as a pretty boy Terat ever goes under he could bank as a construction worker for sure. Last but least, and oh boy was this fun lemme tell you, Carver stopped by. She managed to locate the original artist of the murals you had painted on each floor, and Long was able to convince the man to repaint them at no charge, awfully nice of him. She handled pretty much every aspect of the décor and remodeling. All in all, they did a fantastic job in my opinion.”

He let on arm slip from his chest and held it out turning his body so his hand would sweep across the world. “So, two weeks of work, a ton of pizzas, countless arguments over the radio, and a lil over a mil later and bam! Here ya go. One Club Babylon, from all of us, to all of you.”

He walked toward Velvet. His face had nothing but pure joy drawn all over it. “I was talking to Flicker a few weeks back. And during the conversation she made me realize something. All your life you’ve strived to help others, always helping search for what they need." His stress on those words only drove him to speak a little more passion as the next phrase filled the room in an unearthly choir. “I looked, and I realized. When was the last time someone asked you what you needed, what you wanted. When was the last time someone asked you about your dreams.” He reached out and took her hand, taking a moment to rub his thumb almost lovingly across the back of her of her hand. So enraptured by his giving of this gift to her, he didn’t even notice. “I did this for you. I’m not a telepath, but it doesn’t take one to see that this was your dream. Of all the things in this world that brought you joy, despite the work you knew it would take, this was it.” Still holding her hand he reached into the inside pocket of his coat. He withdrew a durable redish colored envelope, the strong one usually used to secure important documents. “Besides rebuilding Babylon, I have one last gift for you tonight.” He held up the envelope between them, giving her a moment to look at it. His voice was little more than a pleasant whisper laced with the echoed of the dead. “This is the deed for The Club, Velvet. It’s legal, and binding, and with a signature, all yours. After you sign, you will officially be the sole owner of this property.”

He stood there, holding her hand in one of his, the deed to Babylon in the other. A still silence crept over them both as he waited for her reaction.

[Velvet]

“I… wha?” She stared blankly up into the face of her companion.

It wasn’t one of her proudest moments, to be certain, but the combination of information and emotion was difficult even for Velvet to process. The confusion, a riot of conflicting thoughts and feelings, played over her lovely features in a visible display of perplexity.

That’s not possible… How? Why? I mean, Warren I can understand, even Procyon I suppose, but the others? I hardly know them, and aren’t most of them Terats? I haven’t exactly been complimentary of their organization, or philosophy, or whatever it is. And… What I need?

Slowly, she shook her head, placing her free hand on Revenant’s wrist and gently guiding the folder down to the bar top.

No one’s ever asked me that before.

“Warren, I… I don’t even know where to begin,” she blurted out suddenly, hesitating at first but then stumbling through the uncertainty evident in her voice. “No one’s ever done anything like this for me before, ever, and between the money involved, and the time, and getting all these people I barely know... most of which hate you or vice versa…” she continued, releasing her grip on his wrist to gesture broadly, her expression impassioned. “It’s just, just so much, Warren, can you understand?” Her violet eyes, misty with fresh tears, gazed imploringly up at the shadowy figure before her. “I- I feel like I could break into pieces right now, from everything, from all of this.” Strangely, it wasn’t an altogether inaccurate statement; the rising swell of emotion surged ever higher as she looked from Revenant’s oddly jubilant face to the restored Club Babylon, until, half-laughing and half-crying, she launched herself at him and flung her arms around his waist.

“Thank you,” Velvet laughed as her breath caught and her voice hitched, warm tears dripping down his chest. Her flushed cheek was pressed hard against his pallid skin, making the unending stream of grateful exclamations she murmured even more incoherent, but she didn’t care.

Everything that she really needed was right there.

[Warren Verona]

Warren wrapped his arms around her, lowering his head into hers, taking the sweet fragrance of her hair as she took the time she needed to compose herself. Maybe it was her natural emotionally empathic abilities bleeding out unconsciously, or the big lummox was finally starting to understand all the things she had been trying to show him over all these months. Something however kindled the well-hidden stores of humanity he possessed causing him to clutch her tighter.

“I don’t know about ‘hate’ me, Velvet.” He spoke softly. “But I couldn’t do this alone. I’m sure a few don’t like me, but they didn’t do it for me. They did it for you. When it comes to your happiness Vie, I’d work with my ‘enemies’, if that’s what it would take to se you smile again.”

He gently kissed the top her head. “You may notice a few similarities tonight. Like the booth, your outfit, and the Szechuan take out I have in the kitchen. Everything is like the first night we met in person.” He continued to speak, but had no intention of breaking off the embrace before she was ready to. Her tears still running fresh down his chest as he quietly spoke to her. “It was on a wonderful night, that I met a wonderful woman, who opened a very wonderful door in my life for me. You’re my best friend Velvet, and for you, I would move mountains.”

Slowly in the dim light of Club Babylon the two swayed, as if floating on the melody of an unseen orchestra.

[Velvet]

All right, V, muttered the voice of reason in her mind, Come on... Before things get awkward.

With a reluctant sigh, and a faint half-grin as she straightened, Velvet led the tall nova back toward the semi-circular booth in the corner. His gift, marvelous as it was, remained somewhat bittersweet; better to leave it be for now, she reasoned, and enjoy the evening. It was far too grand a gesture, and too touching, to spoil by asking "What if?" but the fact that she elected not to mention it did nothing to deter the frenzied whirl of her thoughts.

Whatever she was feeling as she sat down... the champagne effervescence singing through her blood, the spread of warmth in her chest, the not-unpleasant tightness in her stomach, and even a fleeting twinge of fear... it was as familiar as a dream on waking. There was something inherently recognizable about the sensations, as if she should know them intimately, and yet it was nothing she could easily define. Here was the heady red thrum of Desire, there the gentle saffron of Companionship, and there the pink-gold glow of Gratitude, but more remained, and the confluence of all stayed stubbornly incomprehensible. Each variation of emotion was a different hue in her perceptions, but this morass of colour swirled like oil on water. Inwardly, she attempted to dissect the emotional spectrum of her feelings, still smiling as her vivid, joy-bright eyes surveyed the main room. The parts, she knew... But the whole?

Though it vexed the empath that something beyond her experience had apparently insinuated itself into her consciousness, she resolved to make the most of the night and banished all such thoughts from the forefront of her mind.

Her trademark grin, somewhat rueful and slightly crooked, broadened on her glossy lips.

"So, Sunshine." Slender fingers smudged away the few glistening traces of tears on her cheeks. With a quick, pointed glance about the table, Velvet arched an eyebrow inquisitively. "I believe something was mentioned about... takeout?"

[Warren Verona]

In the back of his mind a wave of thankfulness washed over him. Velvet was never really the ‘serious’ type, even when her mood was sour. When she held a little tighter, cried a little longer, and seemed to genuinely loose herself in the embrace he got a little worried. Revenant was in a good mood, but he wasn’t quite prepared if this little ‘gift’ of his took her emotions in a direction he wasn’t entirely prepared for.

“Yes. So I did.” His grin once again beamed in her direction. “Have a seat. Relax, lemme go get it.” Still holding he hand, he guided her into the booth and headed off for the kitchen.

The door swung shut and his mind reeled. Get it together Warren. It’s just Vie. Indeed he did try, and he thought to himself while gathering the assorted pieces of the meal, pulling them from the ovens where they were being kept warm to various bowls and dishes he had set out.

His focus waned with every second. Was it the scent of her hair, the softness of her skin, those seductive violet eyes, or her darkened full glossy lips? No. It wasn’t any one of those, but a combination of all of them together.

His mind more set on fantasy than reality, his hand faltered and serving spoon fell to the floor. With a loud clang his mind snapped back into ‘the now’ and he rolled his eyes and scoffed at his own lack of grace. “Get it together Warren.” He mumbled to himself as he crouched to pick it up. “Yes. She’s hot. I know that, hell, how can you miss it. It’s what she does, he’s a quantum charged sex bomb. Now come on, get a grip. She’s your best friend, not your personal eye candy, quit thinking with your pants.”

Moments later, with a heavy sigh that tempered his resolve, Warren spun through the doors of the kitchen and back out to the waiting Velvet. “All right… here we go. There is some-” he paused, the name of the dishes completely lost in his jumble of thoughts. Quickly, he recovered in the best way his lack social graces allowed. “Of this… and then there’s that stuff too. Dig in.”

Soft music played over the clubs speakers as the two enjoyed their meal. Warren went on to tell her about the shenanigans that went on as the novas went about repairing her club, and how Carver threatening to disembowel him and feed him his entrails was just her way of saying ‘I want you’.

Laughter echoed through the room as Velvet reached for her glass of wine. “Why do you have to push people so far Warren?” She mused. Sipping from her glass slowly.

“With her… it’s just fun. But seriously, I can admit, with all honesty that what short time I spent working here with them, it was… enjoyable.” His bottle tipped back and he swallowed the remnant of its contents. His voice fell into a tone of uncertainty as his words came slower as he tried to piece them together with more care than usual. “Hey… uh… look uh… I wanted to talk to you about something, something ya know… a bit more serious.”

He stopped there, his eyes distant while his mind ran a hasty search for the right words to say. Nervously he picked the label off his beer with a blackened thumbnail.

[Velvet]

As predicted, it was a dinner easily as enjoyable as the night of their first 'real' meeting, and the fact that he’d taken such pains to recreate that surprisingly pleasant encounter was the icing on the cake of Babylon’s renewal. The food had been predictably fiery, and more than once she’d found herself 'stealing' sips of Warren’s beer to dilute the peppery oils and quench the spice-induced flames.

“Serious?” Velvet asked, a bemused grin teasing at the corners of her lips. She glanced at Revenant over the lip of her wine glass, curious at the sudden shift in his confidence. As she spent a moment savoring the dark, fruity flavor with faint floral notes, her eyes closed in obvious satisfaction. Quietly, she swallowed the last remnant of her drink and set her glass aside, once more arching a brow in unspoken query.

Serious. Okay… Let’s go over the list. One, he’s dying. Two, he’s moving somewhere. Three, he’s planning on shacking up with Chloe. Four, he’s in trouble. Again. Five, he’s gay. Six… Mentally, she ticked off the first few possible scenarios that flickered through her mind, silently trying to work out what in all of creation would lend the yellow-eyed nova such a tangible aura of uneasiness.

“All right, Sunshine. Let’s have it, then.”

She deftly gathered up her wine glass in one hand and his three empty bottles in the other. Motioning for him to continue, she made her way through the maze of tables back to the bar and away from the decidedly disconcerting atmosphere his abrupt change in attitude engendered. The bottles clunked softly as she placed them in a small sink and withdrew two more from the cooler. Slowly, Velvet made her way back to the booth and handed Warren an ice-limned bottle of beer, frosty air wafting out of its open mouth. Her expression was curious, but guarded, as if in expectation of dire news.

[Warren Verona]

Casually, Warren tipped the beer back and took a draught from the bottle. “I know what yer thinkin’,” He started. “No, I’m not pregnant.” He grinned, using the momentary levity as Velvet chuckled silently to herself, to think of a place to begin.

“Look, I uhh, really ain’t good at this, so bear with me.” Warren fiddled with the bottle, not really doing very well at maintaining eye contact. “I remember back at the Pow Wow, and a single thought stays with me. I mean, sure, we’ve obviously ‘made up’ it would seem.” He motioned to the dinner, the club, and the fact that the two were sharing it all together.

With an acknowledging nod Velvet did the math silently, but didn’t interrupt him. “That thought is trust. I do trust you. I hope you trust me. But what does that mean? After all it’s like a lie, once someone lies to you, forever after you are apprehensive, always asking yourself ‘Is that the truth?’. Do you follow me so far?”

“So far? Yes.” She replied, picking few bits of shredded meat between her nails and popping them in her mouth. Covering her mouth she spoke slowly while savoring the spices setting her mouth ablaze. “Like paper. Once a sheet has been crumbled into a ball, no matter how hard you try, it’ll always be creased and folded. Never perfect.”

“Exactly.” Warren spoke with vigor as she thankfully said exactly what he was trying to say. “But, thanks to certain things, like nodes, you and I are different. People like us can straighten things back out to perfection again. And I’ve thought of a way how to.” Velvet shot him a look, one of her typical ‘What did you do Ray?’ sort of looks that told him she was already not liking the idea before she heard it based on the grounds that since it came from his mind, it must be seven different shades of stupid.

“I know that look.” He said, offering her a smile in hopes she would hear him out. “I questioned, doubted, and even insulted the one good thing I have in my life. Even now, I wonder sometimes: ‘Does she honestly believe I trust her?’. Then it dawned on me. I can say whatever I like to you, but I can’t hide what I really think about you. You’re a telepath. The truth is always in there.”

“Hold on there doll.” Velvet raised her hand in protest. “I’m not going to scan your brain every time we speak just to make sure your being straight with me. I don’t do that Warren. What’s in your head is yours. I respect peoples right to privacy.”

He leaned back, trying to relax a bit. “That’s not what I’m saying Vie. I’m saying that that there aren’t very many people in this world who understand me, mostly in part because of my inability to help them see things from my point of view. Peoples lives make them into who they are, and mine, well, mine I’ve kept secret from everyone. I suppose you could say I’m ashamed of it. I regret it. Hell, I’m afraid of it, but no one knows why. I want you of all people to understand me, I’m sick of carrying these secrets with me. I’m offering you an opportunity to venture into my thoughts and memories. No limits, no boundaries. All I ask is you don’t change any of them. I hope it will help you to understand me more, how can I ever expect you to trust me be my best friend when I insist on keeping walls around myself to protect me from people getting close with me?”

He took another drink, and stretched his arms across the back of the booth. “Not now, of course. But, I’m serious Velvet. Think about it, and know that if you ever want to see for yourself the things I’ve seen and done, and why I am the way I am, that I trust you enough to give all access to my life and times.”

[Velvet]

Is he… serious?

“Warren,” she countered, “you hate telepaths… I can’t even begin to count the times you’ve growled at me, insulted me-” Glancing up at Revenant, she amended, “Okay, indirectly, but still… It’s one thing to say there’s an open invitation, and another to really mean it. I mean, think about it.” Velvet opened her hands, slender fingers spread wide as she gestured expressively. “Between what happened at Gary, at the Pow-Wow, and in the few times I’ve helped reinforce some of your mental ‘barriers,’ you haven’t exactly been an eager participant, and I’m not saying I blame you.” She settled back against the seat of the booth, drawing her feet up and curling shapely legs underneath her as she did so.

Thoughtfully, she pursed her lips, chewing idly on the soft inner flesh and regarding Revenant with a seriousness that was all too common in recent days. His offer was startling, to say the least, both in its abruptness and in its nature. He wasn’t exactly an open book, and the fact that he’d suddenly decided to become just that was a rather sudden change. As she watched him, however, his expression seemed earnest and even a bit uncertain, despite the casual posture and tone of voice.

He’s really not comfortable with this, she thought, but he’s offering anyway. It must mean a lot to him, I guess, and I suppose it makes sense. His way of making reparations, maybe? Since I did call him out on his honesty at the fair that day…

The glass bottle turned in her hands as she considered the man before her, unconsciously rubbing away the gold-edged label with her thumb. Drops of condensation pooled on the table beneath, and after several awkward moments of strained silence she sighed and took a long draught of the amber liquid and cracked a mischievous grin.

“All right, Sunshine. It’s a deal. I’ve shown you mine, so you’re going to show me yours. Fair enough. Just let me know when you’re in the mood, mmm?” With a wink, she tapped the neck of her beer bottle against his, cementing the agreement with a faint clink.

[Warren Verona]

With an elegant motion Warren gripped the neck of her beer bottle with his opposite hand as she drew it back to her lips. Velvet gazed at him confused, wondering what was going through his mind (and fighting off the temptation to see for herself). He had already set his bottle on the table, and while Velvet sat wondering why the sudden claim to her beer he loosened her hand from the bottle, setting it upon the table.

With her right hand in his left, he raised her arm over the remnants of dinner as he led her out from the booth. Hesitantly she followed him, ready to have a complete breakdown if he had any more ‘surprises’ for her tonight. “Do you dance?” He asked suddenly, his ethereal voice echoed dimly over and all around her, vibrating each syllable gently within her ears. "Do you dance?" Of course she dances you idiot! She’s an exotic dancer! The tone was different from what the lovely empathy was used to hearing pass from the necrotic ruffian’s lips. These words carried something with them, a sensation she was not accustomed too with him: warmth, mixed with a flush of embarrassment. “You know… I uhh, just kinda figured, that uhh… well, maybe we could you know… do one. I’m not very good at it, but considering I’ve never… ya know… seen you on a stage before but you still qualify as poetry in motion that should, hopefully, help me not look too bad. Just… no laughing… kay?”

Congrats self. I think we just not only flirted, but threw in a warm compliment too. This can only end badly. She’s gonna laugh… she’s gonna look at us strangely and then hit us with the ‘friends’ speech… I can see it now.

He held her hand, in the open floor of the dimly lit Club Babylon. Nervously he fidgeted, rubbing his thumb unconsciously along her fingers.

[Velvet]

Okay, she mused as Revenant's tongue tripped awkwardly over his offer, I'll bite.

"Warren, are you... flirting with me?"

Her violet eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint and her right eyebrow arched skyward, nearly vanishing beneath the thick fringe of bangs that swept across her brow.

The wave of panic that washed over the pallid nova's face would have been visible across the room, but it was swiftly replaced by a casual, ambivalent expression that was ill-suited to his typically somber mien. His hand froze in hers, and the gleaming aurulent whorls of his eyes darted swiftly away to a point beyond her right shoulder. Any student of human behavior, or one well-versed in the quirks of the dishonest, would immediately recognize the direction of his glance as a sign that he was currently working with the "creative" portion of his brain. Velvet grinned inwardly as he stammered out his hasty reply.

"Ye- No, no I'm not 'flirting' with you. Pssh," he exhaled, his bluish lips twisting into a faintly derisive line. "C'mon, Vi, gimme some credit, will ya? Geez. What is it with you hot chicks, always thinking someone's got a thing for you? Man." He shook his head, clearly trying to divert the conversation to something more about her and less about him- not his favorite subject. "Just because a guy talks to you, y'know, it doesn't automatically mean he's attracted to you."

It was then that she decided she'd not feel the least bit guilty for having a little fun at his expense.

"Oh," Velvet said neutrally, slowly nodding as she released Revenant's hand and strolled idly around his tall, leather-clad form. Each step was deliberate, each footfall directly in front of the other, and her hips swayed ever so slightly as her movement described a narrow circle about her companion.

"I suppose I must've been mistaken then. Though," she murmured from behind him, one hand trailing slowly downward from his shoulder to his forearm, "if you'd still like to dance with poor little undesirable ol' me, I wouldn't mind."

[Warren Verona]

"W-well, come on Vie, you know I didn’t' mean it like that." He stammered out a few more words, finding himself in a deeper hole with each one. Warren shuddered slightly as her fingers trailed down his arm. Velvet grinned mischievously from her position behind him as she watched the poor mans cold demeanor break.

“Oh?” she cooed softly, finishing her circle around him. “Well, how did you mean it?” Her glossy lips curled slightly to one side and she cocked her head limply towards her left shoulder. She teasingly played with the collar of his duster that fell over his chest.

I’m in a pickle! he thought to himself, and hoped she wasn’t in the mood to probe his surface thoughts. Why does she take everything so literally! Okay. Relax… focus… and for all that’s holy quit looking at her chest. Wow… I think I bought the shirt a bit too small. She’s looking fanta- his thoughts were suddenly cut as he came to the self awareness that his best friend’s beauty completely had him enraptured. I’m so fucking dead…

“I’m waiting.” She nudged her head forward slightly and flashed him a warm smile.

Sometimes people, men especially, are at their best when they’re not thinking, and in Warren’s case this is doubly true. Her request for an answer blew his thoughts of impending doom, and her ample bosom to the back of his mind, causing him to speak with out thinking. “What do you need one more guy trying to get in your pants for? Hell Vie, you have thirty of those during a walk to the store for a gallon of milk. They’re ordinary.” He reached his hand up and held her cheek gently; in his eyes she saw the storm of his passionate speaking quickly forming. “What you don’t have many of Vie are guys willing to just let you be you, love you for you, be with you because you’re excellent company not because they hope it’ll get them a shot at pulling off your underwear with their teeth.” He lowered his head, only slightly to allow the next rush of words to come. “What would it gain me to flirt with you Violet? You would never date an employee; you’ve said it yourself. Soon all this will be open, and I’ll be working for you again. Even were I to manage something closely resembling a charming exchange, where would it get me but resigned to the fate of trying for something I knew would never happen.”

Velvet took a step back, investigating the man with a bit of skepticism. She was calm, and rather amused by Warrens little tirade, but was far from sure where he was going with it. “You could always just qui-.”

Her sentence was cut short as Warren’s index finger gently pressed against her lips. “And don’t tell me to quit. I told you Vie, watching, and helping your dreams become reality is what I want. More than anything. More than even taking a chance and trying to say or do something charming enough that you would consider me anything more than just an ordinary guy.”

An awkward silence filled the nearly infinite space between them. “So. Still want to dance?” Warren asked in a weak attempt at breaking the now rather suddenly tense moment.

[Velvet]

"Only you would ask that after what you just said, Sunshine," she managed to choke out, half-laughing, in disbelief. A slender, visibly shaking hand raked back through the tousled purple mane of Velvet's hair as she took a step backward, away from the suddenly serious expression that confronted her. Her other hand was upraised slightly, palm out, as if to ward away the torrent of words that had spilled from Warren's lips in such a mad, impassioned rush.

What... the... hell was that?!

After pacing in front of him for a few moments, she abruptly whirled on her heel to face him with her retort, jabbing her finger pointedly into his pale chest for emphasis as she spoke... Her tone brooked no argument.

"All right, Sunshine. You've had your say, and now you're going to listen to mine. You come up with this soapbox-worthy spiel about not objectifying me, you act like Mister-Fucking-Perfect and manage to peg exactly what I'm looking for in someone, nevermind the fact that you're my best friend, and then... Then!" Glaring hotly up at Warren, she fairly snarled, "Then you tell me I'm not worth even the effort it would take to flirt. You can spend thousands on my club... Thousands!"

Angrily, she flung her outstretched arm in a wide arc, encompassing the main room and narrowing vivid, amethyst eyes that fairly sparked lightning in the dim room. Her emotions were almost palpable forces flaring around her, charging the air with brilliant, lurid hues of purple and scarlet that could be felt, but not seen.

"You can save my life, be willing to bare your soul, and devote yourself to my well-being, and now you're telling me in no uncertain terms that it's only in a-" She paused for effect, twisting the inflection in her voice into a subtle mockery of propriety. "Professional capacity. I don't get it. I really don't, Warren. Maybe I'm selfish, I admit. Maybe I expect too much, or maybe I just don't feel like being used again. See, if you can do all that, and I'm still not worth even a passing interest, then I can only assume you haven't done this for me."

Her full, well-glossed lips curled unpleasantly as she fairly spat out her next words. Her voice was a knife-edge of pain and cruelty, slicing through the distance between them with unerring accuracy.

"You're just doing it for yourself. Maybe you think I'm your penance? Your way of making up for all the shitty things you've ever done? Is that it, Warren? Am I your fucking project?!"

She turned then, her face a mask of bitterness on a night when it should have been graced with nothing but smiles, and strode over to the bar. Swiftly, deftly, Velvet tore open the envelope, withdrew the paperwork within, and snatching up a pen scrawled the sharp series of points and interconnecting lines that made up her signature. Any hope she might've held out for something more from their friendship, however fleeting or well-intentioned, vanished in a steady stream of black ink across a blank line.

Briefly, she wished she hadn't already used up all her tears on happiness.

[Warren Verona]

Warren stood there stunned and accepted her verbal lashings. Noticeably flinching a few times during certain parts. He watched in paralyzed confusion as she swiftly signed the deed of Club Babylon, making it hers and making him her employee once more.

“You know. I pictured this going a lot differently in my head.” He started, rolling his index finger over horizontally like winding a filmstrip. With an audible ‘smack’ the black pen hit the surface of the bar, an exclamation of his poor choice of words. There was a harsh mixture of finality and sorrow boiling up within him. He had tried to explain something… and this… this is what it came down to. “No Violet. You are not my project. There is no great deed on this planet that will ever save me from the fate that awaits me when I pass from this world.”

He began to pace in a small circle there in the center of the floor. “What could I say that hasn’t already been said to you by some other guy. What could I do that hasn’t already been tried by some other guy? Hell, Violet, I’ve been a mess trying to think up someway to show you or some words to tell you that would make you understand. So far all I’ve come up with is a note book filled with cheesy, sappy poetry.” He laughed out loud. The walls suddenly came to life with the echoes of his spiritual voice and the sounds of another world poured through in fainted whispers and shrieking agony. “You… you of all people. Can you imagine that? Me having to find someway to explain my feeling to an empath… not only that… but an empath who can read my mind! And still… here I stand. Absolutely clueless as to how I can make you see what I feel.”

His hands fell limp to his sides and the flapping of disturbed leather filled the room and mixed with the intangible spirits his voice had called forth. “I even called Flicker over to my place to help me devise some way of letting you know how I felt about you. And that’s when it hit me: If I helped you rebuild Babylon, perhaps then, then I would have enough courage to hit you with the truth, your eyes would open to the fact that I’m not ‘just another guy’. That I did all of this,” He waved his arms around the room. “For you. I suppose I was wrong, you think all this was done for me, and that’s not true.” He stopped and gazed at her, his body slumped a bit like it took all his energy just to from the words. “That’s not to say I don’t get anything out of this. You get Babylon back, you get your dreams, you get your happiness. I get to see you smile and be happy. I get to know, that for all the fucked up shit I’ve done in my life, that I can look across the Club and see you rubbing elbows with the patrons smiling that beautiful smile of yours and know that for once… once, I did something right for a change.”

He slowly slid his hand slip back through his hair, a common motion between the two of them. The cracking sound of bones breaking through skin to bond with tendon could be heard from behind him, the tell tale sign that he was preparing for his exit from this obviously bad situation. “But hell. What can I do? It’s just one more attempt at the right thing quickly becoming molten slag before my eyes. I’m sorry, I really am. I didn’t mean to mess up your wonderful evening.”

He started a slow stride to the exit, the weight of his words and the full extend of all he had said hadn’t hit him yet, and he probably wouldn’t remember half of it anyway. Often times the things spoken with pure intentions are the things that can’t be planned, they just, like love, flow naturally, usually to be forgotten when the haze on honesty and the flood gates of a speakers passion close once more. “Gimme a call please. Lemme know when you need me here, you know for opening night and what not.”

[Velvet]

Shit, V. Why the hell did you have to open your mouth? Fix it- go grab him before he gets outside and finds a rooftop to brood on all night.

"Oh, no. You do not get to walk away from me, Sunshine. You want to mope, you can do it on your own time, but your ass is mine when you're here. I've never seen you act like an utter coward before, and you're not starting with me," she called after the slowly retreating man. Her long legs carried her quickly across the floor and she reached out to grab his arm, as if he weren't fully capable of dragging her out with him.

As he turned, a momentary flash of deja vu accompanied the movement. An image of the same two novas months before, one striding out of Club Babylon after they'd both made complete asses of themselves, flickered into the forefront of her mind. She ground her teeth and tugged on the sleeve of his coat.

"Look. We're always talking about how important honesty is, right? And, honestly, I think it's pretty sad that you're running away because we're fighting. Big fucking deal! We fight all the time." She scowled, positioning herself between Revenant and the outer door of the club, and exhaled loudly as she ran her hand through her hair again.

Okay, maybe it was a misunderstanding... Maybe. Deep breaths, stay calm, and try to salvage the situation. Do NOT go off on a rant and fire him.

"I understand you have a case of permanent boot-in-mouth. Yes, if I wanted to, I could probably sit here, read every thought that filtered through your brain, and never have to worry about miscommunications, but I don't do that. It wouldn't be fair to you, so I have to work with what I hear, Sunshine, and that means... It means I screw up. I admit it."

She rolled her eyes heavenward, her shoulders sagging as she pleaded her case. Truthfully, she'd really only stopped him because she wasn't sure if, once he left, he'd actually come back, but that was hardly something she planned on mentioning.

"So, let's try something different, mm? I know you and I have a tendency to yell first and ask questions later, but... well... You can see how well that's working for us."

A nervous, faintly rueful grin quirked at the corner of her mouth as she peered up at the taller nova, the flush of emotion in her cheeks cooling with quiet, unspoken fear.

[Warren Verona]

Still a tad weary from his tirade, Warren stopped when she tugged and in a defeated half irritated and half apathetic look on his face listened as she made her pitch. “Something different?” He asked as she left him an opening. “What? Like letting me win for a change?” He mused.

She gave a slight push on his shoulder and looked at him like he was going insane. “No. Psshhh… get real.”

Warren chuckled slightly; the waves of irritation slowly began to fade as he allowed himself to calm down. “Alright. I’m open for anything at this point, how much worse can this get, right? What did you have in mind?”

[Velvet]

Reasonable. Logical. This is good. Let's keep going in this direction.

"Okay. Good. I'm pissed, you're pissed, but we're both still rational people, right?" Glancing up at him, she amended slightly, "Mostly rational people. I guess what it boils down to is this: You're my best friend, and I'd really hate to have to destroy you. So why don't we go finish our drinks, have a smoke, and try to settle this without brooding or storming off. Please?"

She gazed up at him through a veil of violet hair and dark lashes, her eyes wide and imploring as she did her best to look charming (if a bit dishevelled).

[Warren Verona]

Warren took a deep breath, and exhaled in a lazy manner. "Sure. Fine."

The air filled with the scent of burning as his wings crackled into embers and fell away. He stood there for a long moment, really not sure what to do. He specialized in darting off and brooding, now that he was staying, he wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to do.

He stared at her, once again lost in those large amethyst puppy-dog eyes she was giving him. Why does she have to be so damn cute... and sweet. He thought tohimself, and hoped she wasn't listening.

"You uhh... want a cigar? Cuban, stole em from the lil smoke shop ealier today. Freeones always taste best..." He reached into his inside pocket and produced two tightly wrapped cigars. "Not any better than those things you smoke now, but they smell better." He grinned, persisting in trying to win an on going debate between them about how nasy each of their particular vices were.

[Velvet]

"Smell better? Ha! Not unless you're good and drunk, and that, Sunshine, I am not."

With a measure of relief, and not a little trepidation, she nevertheless plucked one of the cigars from his hand, the wrapper crinkling faintly in the quiet as she peeled it away. Frowning for a moment, she walked slowly around the bar, kneeling down to rummage through the handbag tucked under the counter.

"So," she began, her voice muffled slightly, "I know you're not 'just another guy,' Warren. I trust you, I rely on you... You're my best friend, and I love you dearly."

She retrieved the small double-bladed cutter from its case and neatly clipped off the end of her cigar before tossing the chrome-plated device to Revenant. With a faint twinge of envy, she watched as he snatched it out of the air at the last possible moment, just before it reached his chest. It was one of those typical 'Damn, but I'm smooth' gestures that he managed to carry off so easily, and she half-despised him for it sometimes.

"We're going to be working together, at least part of the time, so why don't you just start at the beginning. What's all this about Flicker and the club, and why do you have a notebook of sappy poetry?"

Velvet peered at him skeptically as she braced her elbows on the bar, carefully using the onyx-and-jet cigar lighter inset into the bartop to set the end of the fragrant Cuban smoldering.

[Warren Verona]

"Heh." He raised the cutter up and showed it to Velvet, wobbling it back and forth. "Been meaning to get one of these." He sliced the end, and in one motion traded the cutter for a box of wooden matches from his pocket, an attempt to steal the cutter that did not go unnoticed by Velvet.

Honesty Warren, remember, you gave your word.

He took a deep breath, an unneeded one, but sometimes it helped him to relax and prepare for the worst. "Well, ahh." He started. It wasn't the most articulate introduction to what she was asking him to tell her about, but for a guy like Revenant it was a start. "Where do I start... let's see... Do you remember when you found out the Flicker came by my place and offered to help me with a few 'Lady Issues' I was having, and you assumed it was Sylvan that she and I were talking about? Well, it wasn't Sylvan I needed help with... it was you."

He sparked the match and stoked his cigar. A small cloud of smoke formed around him and he took a moment to compose himself while taking in the scent. "Ever since the cabin Violet something has been different. I've had difficulty being around you sometimes because." He paused, knowing how sensitive she was to, well, everything, he did want to misphrase. "Well, I've developed an attraction to you. And that’s putting it mildly." His eyes flared wide in that expression most people get when they realize they’ve bitten more than they can chew and he sighed with an almost audible chuckle. Although it was indistinct and he trailed the last part off a bit the sentence was still clear enough for Velvet to see that the over grown gorilla was at least trying.

He took a moment to toke his stogie, walking back to the table as he did so to pick up his unfinished beer. After taking a chug of the amber liquid he faced Velvet again, this time just standing there using his arms to accentuate expressions as he spoke. “So, I asked Flicker to come by, cuz, heh… you know me, I’m not good at the whole ‘fellings’ stuff yet. I couldn’t come to you, cuz well… we were still fighting over the whole Pow Wow thing.” Not happy with being idle, he began to walk around again. The lovely empath had little trouble seeing exactly how nervous Revenant actually was. On a scale ten, he was hovering around a twelve. “It was talking with her that she told me I should find an outlet for my feelings… a form of expression, so… she said I had poets heart…” He trailed off and suddenly shot Velvet a quick glance while pointing his fingers matter of factly at her. “Which is true, I keep it in a jar in my cup board.”

Considering the source, Velvet pondered its truth for a spit second. “And, that how I ended up with a notebook of sappy poetry… can… I uhh… go shoot myself now?” He nudged a hitchhikers thumb into the direction of the bathrooms.

[Velvet]

A wreath of fragrant, silvery smoke haloed Velvet's head as she exhaled, the tip of her cigar glowing faintly in the dim lighting. Quietly, she regarded the apparently nervous man before her as the soft echoes of his otherworldly voice tapered off into silence, leaving her mind to quickly fill the void left in the absence of sound.

Oh, god. He's not kidding... He's dead serious. This whole time, I assumed he wasn't interested even the tiniest little bit, and now it turns out he's been writing sappy poetry, of all things. Fuck. And now, of course, he waits to tell me until after I've already signed the papers. Fucking perfect!

"No. No you cannot go into the bathroom and shoot yourself now. This place just got fixed up, and you guys did an amazing job of it, so no."

At his exasperated sigh, she lifted her free hand to stifle the inevitable protest and strolled back around the bar with a carefully measured stride until she reached the table where he stood.

Now comes the hard part.

"Honestly, Sunshine, I don't know what to say. I'm flattered, obviously, and..." She paused for a moment, debating the proper choice of words. "And I can't say without lying through my teeth that I haven't felt the same way. But, under the circumstances, especially now that I've already signed the damned papers-" She shot him a look from beneath furrowed brows and took a brief draw on her cigar, relishing the flavor for a moment before exhaling a plume of smoke once more. "There really isn't anything to be done about it. Is that what you were trying, in your own special way, to say earlier?"

[Warren Verona]

“Something like that. Yeah.” The nervousness seemed to ease up slightly, but it’s grip wasn’t loose enough to allow him to slip. “You said before that you ‘love me dearly’, remember? Well, I love you dearly too Vie.” His words were hesitant, and slightly choked but he pressed on. “I love you as Vie, my best friend, and my attraction for you, although rather distracting at times, doesn’t change that love.” He smiled as his eyes wandered off; it seemed more like he was looking past Velvet than at her.

His arms motioned to everything around him. “All this, this is your dream. You just got it back and it’s going to take you time to get used to it all again, I’m sure. I’m not going to walk away from that, I told you I’d help you and that I’d be here for you, and I will. I know you’d never date an employee, so I didn’t want to bring it up. You don’t need the worry or the hassle. I don’t have to be dating you to love you. But I can’t date you, and still work here, keeping all the promises made to you. I’d rather see you happy and not have you, than just plain old content but at my side.” He tilted his head to the side a bit. “Does that make sense?”

[Velvet]

...And the bastard gets it in one. How is it that a sociopath manages to be more considerate and sincere than 99% of the guys that have ever talked to me? God damnit! Talk about picking some real winners, V.

"Yeah," she replied, smiling faintly. "It does, actually."

Velvet gingerly placed the still-smoldering cigar in the ashtray, careful not to disturb the ash collected at its tip; within a few minutes, it would go out on its own. She pressed a button on the remote that rested precariously on the edge of the table, glancing up and around the room as the volume increased and the sound of slow, nearly orchestral music filled the air.

"You going to smoke that while we dance, or what?" the lush-lipped nova asked, the familiar grin tugging at the corners of her mouth as she looked pointedly from her companion to the cigar still clutched in his hand.

So they're signed, she mused as she waited for Revenant to get his act together. Big deal. Can't have them notarized until tomorrow, anyway, so I might as well enjoy these next few minutes.

[Warren Verona]

"I was considering it." He retorted sarcastically, punctuating it with a rather poorly hidden grin. He leaned slighty, reaching to the ashtray on the table and set the cigar aside.

"Look, natural grace was part of my node popping, but that doesn't mean I'm a good dancer. It just means that when I step on your feet, I look good doing it." His hands, without actually touching Velvet confusedly moved up and down as he pathetically searched for where his hands were supposed to go. "Heh, help me out here... I'm usually not this close to someone with out a submission hold somewhere in the works."

[Velvet]

"A submission hold? Kinky, Warren. I had no idea..."

The curvaceous nova grinned cheekily, reaching out to grasp Revenant's wrists. She stepped closer, the warm scent of vanilla mingling with the rich fragrance of aged tobacco, and placed his cool hands on her denim-clad hips. Music swelled all around them, strings and flutes crooning plaintively in perfect, serene harmony.

"Here," she murmured softly as she draped her arms over his shoulders and slowly led him through the first steps of a dance.

There’s a saying old, says that love is blind

Still we’re often told, "seek and ye shall find"

So I’m going to seek a certain lad I’ve had in mind...

The woman's voice, resonant and true, rose above the subdued orchestra as the two friends swayed quietly to a melody that had often been copied, but never properly duplicated in over half a century.

Looking everywhere, haven’t found him yet

He’s the big affair I cannot forget

Only man I ever think of with regret

I’d like to add his initial to my monogram

Tell me, where is the shepherd for this lost lamb?

"See? It's not that hard," she chuckled softly as she tipped her head back to gauge Warren's expression.

"I know how to dance," he half-grumbled, then added, "I'm just not very good at it."

"Sure you are. You haven't stepped on my feet yet."

There’s a somebody I’m longin’ to see

I hope that he, turns out to be

Someone who’ll watch over me

"Warren, I apologize for-" Velvet began, but was cut off abruptly by a pale finger pressed against her lips. Quickly she glanced up into the vivid yellow pools of Revenant's eyes; he simply shook his head, as if to say that the time for conversation had, for the moment, passed. Realization dawned in her expression, and he replaced his hand on her hip without missing a beat. With a quiet sigh, she gazed off into the distance over his shoulder, humming softly along with the music.

[Warren Verona]

Slowly the two swayed to the harmonies of the orchestra as it filled the air. The pulse of quantum was hardly noticed, but Velvet could feel the tickle along her spine that told her he was up to something. She looked up at him and his topaz sclera has shifted in hue to a brilliant amethyst, a tell tale sign he had imprinted her quantum signature.

"Warr-" she began to question, but his finger once again gently found it's mark on her soft lips.

"Shh, just... watch." He whispered in a soft tone that Velvet could not recognize as anything but romantic.

Using Violets borrowed talents; she watched as while she gazed into his eyes all of Babylon lit up around her, the decor wavered slightly melting into an appearance closely resembling something from the 1940s. Ella Fitzgerald and her orchestra faded in from the ether.

Velvet's shirt and denim pants wavered, shifting their form into a richly decorated evening gown whose style matched the new surroundings. Warren's own clothing was now fully transformed by the glamour he had at work, appearing now in an old style 40s suit, complete with pinstripes and black satin handkerchief.

"It was either this, or the ball room scene from Beauty & The Beast." He whispered to her. "And there was no way I was going to wear a yellow dress, illusory or otherwise."

He took a step away from her, and held her hand gently. "Now. Where were we?"

[Velvet]

I’m a little lamb who’s lost in the wood

I know I could, always be good

To one who’ll watch over me

"I had no idea you could be such a charmer, Warren," Velvet laughed delightedly. "Where have you been hiding this, mm?" she teased as he took her hand in his, and placed the other lightly on his shoulder. "I have to admit, I'm impressed... with all of it. And I happen to think you'd have looked positively radiant in a yellow dress." Her hyacinthine eyes fairly shone with humor and genuine pleasure as they met his, and the two of them moved with quantum-blessed grace through a scene straight from old Hollywood, a scene that only the dancers could perceive.

Although he may not be the man some

Girls think of as handsome

To my heart he carries the key

The soft, heart-tugging strains of the melody pulled them across the floor in a haze of phantasmal light and ambience; more than once Velvet caught herself staring into those depthless eyes. Yellow as a predatory cat's and faintly luminous, they were like pools of molten gold in the darkness, with the telltale violet striations that marked his use of her abilities, her "whisper" as he called it. The depths they held enthralled her, the passion they contained weakened her knees, and the pain they'd witnessed made her heart ache with a desire to heal him...

Won’t you tell him please to put on some speed

Follow my lead, oh, how I need

Someone to watch over me

From all around her, the First Lady of Song crooned, pleaded with, and beguiled her listeners, beseeching them in a velvety smooth voice to succumb to the enchantment of the moment. It was surreal and fantastic, and Velvet found herself half-closing her eyes, mentally devouring and recording every sensation and sound. She drew it all in, absorbing each and every waking moment as if they were her last until the heady emotions were singing through her in waves of psychic radiance.

[Warren Verona]

There are people who, when their time on Earth has expired, will not be admitted into Heaven’s Gates. Warren is one of them. Yet tonight, with the gift of melody, and the joys of beauty and love, Heaven was here. Heaven was the sway of her agile hips. Heaven was the enchanting sound of her laughter, the mesmerizing glamour of her eyes. Heaven was her.

The music slowed, and finally ended but the dance did not. The two novas continued their sway in the evenings magic, now dancing to a song only they could hear.

“When I'm with you,

eternity is a step away,

my love continues to grow,

with each passing day.

This treasure of friendship,

I cherish within my soul,

how much I care for you...

you'll never really know.

You bring a joy to my heart,

I've never felt before,

with each touch of your hand,

I feel more and more.

Whenever we say goodbye,

whenever we are apart,

please know I hold you dearly,

deep inside my heart.

So these eight words,

I pray you hold true,

"Forever And Always,

I'll Be Here For You."

The words flowed from his lips, softly into her ear, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down her spine and causing her to heave ever so slightly. Like the Devil in the market for her soul, the specters that rode his words were toned down and more like ethereal whispers speaking through the dreams and desires he kept locked deep within. “It’s… from my notebook. For you.”

[Velvet]

“It’s… from my notebook. For you.”

“Oh,” was all she managed, shivering in spite of the warmth of the room. There was something about his tone, some seductive and otherworldly quality that turned her insides to something resembling warm honey. He was far, far too close in more ways than one, and it would have been so easy to succumb to the tingle in her abdomen that urged her forward. Thoughts of the time spent dealing with one persona in particular on her excursions into his mind sent a tremor of apprehension through her body; she remembered the dangerous allure of the aspect of his personality that called itself “Lust” and reflexively swallowed hard. With the memory came the acute realization that if he brought the full arsenal of his passions to bear on her, she would offer up no resistance.

Okay, V, this has to end. Now.

Blushing, and unable to meet his gaze, she stepped back and tucked a rogue strand of hair behind her ear.

Come on, get a grip! How many guys have done this? These are not uncharted waters. Just say goodnight, and go home. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been…

She summoned up the last remaining vestiges of self-control she possessed, directing her gaze upward until it met his. She could scarcely begin to imagine the yearning in her expression at that moment, nor was she aware of the darkening of her eyes, the dilation of her pupils. When she spoke, her voice was huskier than normal, rough-edged with emotion.

“Thank you, Warren, for everything.”

With that, she leaned up, ignoring the protests the action sparked in the back of her mind, and slid one hand behind Revenant’s head. Her long fingers threaded themselves through the thick, inky darkness of his hair, and the surprise on his face registered only briefly before the warmth of her lips brushed his in a pliant kiss that tasted faintly of the expensive cigars they’d shared. The scent of vanilla intensified as her pulse quickened, sending a flush of heat through her creamy skin that suffused her cheeks with a rosy glow.

Just once, she promised herself as she kissed her best friend in those surreal environs, the same man who would be only her employee again very shortly. Just once, before the dream ends.

[Warren Verona]

What happened next? Well, in Chicago they say, Revenant's small heart grew three sizes that day.

The cold, clammy chill of death that surrounded him lifted in that instant. He remained a bit shocked, but only for a moment or two as the void within his soul that swallowed up all his warmth and kindness was suddenly filled. Every barrier he had ever erected to keep people from getting close to him shattered under the might of one woman... and a kiss. A common syndrome throughout recorded time, and he was not immune.

As her lips touched his he was lost in her completely. He gave of himself completely as returned her affections with a passion that, before this moment, Velvet did not think he was capable of. He raised his hand to rest it lightly near the back of her head, just slightly below and behind her ear, leaving his thumb just around her jaw line to brush gently across her smooth alabaster cheek. His arms were nearly enough to reach completely around her, but his free one did not do so. His other hand rested gently on her hip, and in a daring move lowered slightly to rest on her bum, pulling her in and closer to him.

The illusion shattered. With is concentration completely dissolved on anything but the kiss, Club Babylon, and it's phantasmal guests, all returned back from whence they came.

[Velvet]

Oh. Dear. God.

Pressed firmly against Revenant and acutely aware of every inch of her body currently making contact with his, the empath was drowning in sensation. Scintillating colors- crimson, violet, and rose- whirled about the edges of her perception, and even without opening her eyes she could sense the varied hues of emotion. Even the chill of his skin served only to inflame her further, a challenge to the heat that washed through her and threatened to strip away all rational thought.

Dimly, she was aware of her fingers tangling in his hair, effectively freezing his head in place as his cool lips seared her own. She was frozen, she was aflame; it was impossible to tell, and she could feel her resolve slipping farther every moment. Logically, she knew that Warren was her friend, her employee and she had a rule about not fraternizing...

But does it count? The papers are signed, sure, but they don't mean anything until tomorrow, a sly voice whispered in the back of her mind. You could easily, easily have him now, and then step back into the metaphorical business suit tomorrow afternoon... long after breakfast. Just send a little heat his way, and that glacial exterior would melt into a puddle of quivering manflesh.

Only the tiniest, minutest effort would have been required to push him over the edge, she was sure... Reluctantly, she broke away from the kiss, panting softly as she looked up into Warren's luminous gaze. Could she do it, knowing that he trusted her? Would he care if he knew? Confusion played across her lovely, flushed features as duty and desire warred in the depths of her eyes.

[Warren Verona]

He desired nothing more than her at the moment. As her lips broke the kiss their absence killed him, for the second time. Down he gazed at her perfect form. Her lips told him how she longed for more, but her eyes spoke different. Her eyes, those gateways to the soul and Revenant's specialty, shone him confusion, and doubt, and his personal favorite, fear.

For all his reputation as a knuckle-dragging lout, the gentle warmth to his death-like lamenting voice filled the air around her, enveloping her and making sure she heard and felt everything he had to say.

They were the most difficult words he had ever said.

"Y-you should go," his voice almost cracked under the lies he spoke. He wanted her to stay, he wanted her to be with him right here and now, a christening for Babylon the like of which neither would ever forget. But if that were to be, then she would not have held back. "It's getting late, you have a big day tomorrow, Boss." The title slipped away in a complimentary tone. His way of reminding her that all of this was hers, and woe to anyone who tried to take it away.