Post by Vespa on Feb 16, 2009 19:06:14 GMT -5
No Dimitri. No assignments. And no Alice. After a catastrophic assignment that left the poor rifle incapacitated, Vladma needed some time to herself. Alice was in the caring hands of her beloved creator who would be sure to repair the poor creature to a state better than it had been before. Depending how he modified it he might get an earful when the feline returned. The truth was the slimy little fur ball couldn't stand the leopard breathing over his shoulder and shooed her off. But for now it was time to forget her woes and have a drink. Word around the Armory, at least among some of the more flamboyant members, was this bar in East Lucent had a pretty good drink or two. She knew she didn't belong there but the little alcoholic in training couldn't resist trying something new. Whether or not it was in a gay bar and she happened to be neither gay nor male.
It was the same as always. The strange looks pointed her way. Except this time it's not because of Alice. This time it was all her own fault. Without Alice covering her back, regrettably, the confident feline wavered in confidence. It didn't matter much though. Stuffing her fists deeper into her pockets she marched towards the door. Her little glare beamed back at those who gave one to her. March turned to trot as she shuffled quickly through the door. She'd say it was because it was cold, but any more of those looks and laughs and she'd have ducked out and ran.
A little pirouette brought her into the warmer entrance of the bar. What lay within was a sight to behold. It was her first time in a place like this. Admittedly, she kinda liked it. So far. The lights, the music, it was a rush and the people....too bad they weren't into girls. Wandering she took a look around. To sit at a table and take some more in, or go straight for the objective became the great debate.
The constant beeping of the alarm clock eventually woke the slim fox from his deep slumber. A set of paws eventually worked its way through the scrambled mess of a blanket, and smacked around the side table, attempting to find the dastardly alarm-hell spawn. On the quest for the "SNOOZE" button, he met a comb, an old glowstick, and some unmentionables. Throwing the dirty underwear onto the floor, Sinatra yawned again, finally deciding to stop being a lazy ass and just sit-up. By doing so, the quest for the button was easily completed, and he raised his paws in the air, a large stretch appearing and his muzzle opening, showing his sharp teeth as he let out a lazy, "One thing down, just a million more to go..."
Swinging his legs over the large bed, he blinked slowly, shuffling his footpaws around on the ground to look for what should've been there. Finding the girly underwear (clean, left there everynight for this is a morning ritual) almost under the bed, he pulled them up his lithe legs and around his waist, swishing his tail from side to side as he started to hum. He glanced at the time on the clock, about 9 PM. Perfect, he thought to himself. It would take about an hour for him to finish his preparations for the night, and oh, what a night it would be!
9:57...
The brush came down over the straightened blue hair atop the fox's head. Ninety-eight, ninety-nine,... un cent! A large smile plastered onto the fox, an exact replica just in front of him. The large, full body mirror was outlined in a golden trim. But of course, it was fake. Even a male stripper like Sinatra didn't get all of the money he wanted. He grabbed the shirt he was going to wear and pulled it through his arms and over his head. "Well, I wouldn't call it a shirt..." he said to himself, a light lisp hidden in his voice. But indeed it wasn't a technical shirt. It only reached to a couple inches above his naval, and was a bright pink, reading "Got Sexy?" in glitterly purple letters. He pulled the dark blue skinny jeans higher onto his hips, his tongue lolling out of his mouth as he rubbed a stain out with some saliva. He checked the time for the last, and yelped out loud, grabbing the bag that waited by the door as he rushed out.
By the time he had reached The Lucky Fox, he could already hear the loud beats and see the vibrant colors. He smiled and giggled, skipping the rest of the way, and eventually to the front of the line that was waiting outside of the building. In front of the door stood two behemoths, a bear named Paulie, and a bunny named Ricardo. Okay, obviously a bear is quite... large. But a bunny? He remembered telling a friend about Ricardo, and his job. His friend at the time, let's call him John, decided to pull a prank on Ric. Sinatra grimaced, remembering the hospital visit. "I can't believe there isn't a funeral!" Ricardo had said, laughing his head off. The seven foot, 200+ pounds of muscle of bunny nodded his head as Sinatra skipped to the door. "You got a show tonight?" Paul asked, opening the door for the petite fox. "Why of course, hun. And I'll even dedicate it to you this time," he giggled softly and gave both the bear and the rabbit a kiss on the cheek as he hopped in, looking around in wonder. This place still never amazes me, he thought to himself. He passed by a female leopard, obviously out of place, and headed to the bar. He walked like a female in heat, chest thrust out, hips sauntering and winking to anyone who stared "Heya Greg!" he chirped happily, a smile sent to the wolf behind the bar. The wolf, also the owner, was as straight as a 180 degree angle. "How long until I'm on?" He sat down at a stool, his elbows on the bar, his head in his paws. "Aye, an hour me thinks," The wolf resonded, a horrible scottish accent along with the answer. "Reasonable enough," Sinatra spoke, a coke (No alcohol) thrusted into his paws. "Guess I'll get comfy..."
Because I can.
It was the same as always. The strange looks pointed her way. Except this time it's not because of Alice. This time it was all her own fault. Without Alice covering her back, regrettably, the confident feline wavered in confidence. It didn't matter much though. Stuffing her fists deeper into her pockets she marched towards the door. Her little glare beamed back at those who gave one to her. March turned to trot as she shuffled quickly through the door. She'd say it was because it was cold, but any more of those looks and laughs and she'd have ducked out and ran.
A little pirouette brought her into the warmer entrance of the bar. What lay within was a sight to behold. It was her first time in a place like this. Admittedly, she kinda liked it. So far. The lights, the music, it was a rush and the people....too bad they weren't into girls. Wandering she took a look around. To sit at a table and take some more in, or go straight for the objective became the great debate.
The constant beeping of the alarm clock eventually woke the slim fox from his deep slumber. A set of paws eventually worked its way through the scrambled mess of a blanket, and smacked around the side table, attempting to find the dastardly alarm-hell spawn. On the quest for the "SNOOZE" button, he met a comb, an old glowstick, and some unmentionables. Throwing the dirty underwear onto the floor, Sinatra yawned again, finally deciding to stop being a lazy ass and just sit-up. By doing so, the quest for the button was easily completed, and he raised his paws in the air, a large stretch appearing and his muzzle opening, showing his sharp teeth as he let out a lazy, "One thing down, just a million more to go..."
Swinging his legs over the large bed, he blinked slowly, shuffling his footpaws around on the ground to look for what should've been there. Finding the girly underwear (clean, left there everynight for this is a morning ritual) almost under the bed, he pulled them up his lithe legs and around his waist, swishing his tail from side to side as he started to hum. He glanced at the time on the clock, about 9 PM. Perfect, he thought to himself. It would take about an hour for him to finish his preparations for the night, and oh, what a night it would be!
9:57...
The brush came down over the straightened blue hair atop the fox's head. Ninety-eight, ninety-nine,... un cent! A large smile plastered onto the fox, an exact replica just in front of him. The large, full body mirror was outlined in a golden trim. But of course, it was fake. Even a male stripper like Sinatra didn't get all of the money he wanted. He grabbed the shirt he was going to wear and pulled it through his arms and over his head. "Well, I wouldn't call it a shirt..." he said to himself, a light lisp hidden in his voice. But indeed it wasn't a technical shirt. It only reached to a couple inches above his naval, and was a bright pink, reading "Got Sexy?" in glitterly purple letters. He pulled the dark blue skinny jeans higher onto his hips, his tongue lolling out of his mouth as he rubbed a stain out with some saliva. He checked the time for the last, and yelped out loud, grabbing the bag that waited by the door as he rushed out.
By the time he had reached The Lucky Fox, he could already hear the loud beats and see the vibrant colors. He smiled and giggled, skipping the rest of the way, and eventually to the front of the line that was waiting outside of the building. In front of the door stood two behemoths, a bear named Paulie, and a bunny named Ricardo. Okay, obviously a bear is quite... large. But a bunny? He remembered telling a friend about Ricardo, and his job. His friend at the time, let's call him John, decided to pull a prank on Ric. Sinatra grimaced, remembering the hospital visit. "I can't believe there isn't a funeral!" Ricardo had said, laughing his head off. The seven foot, 200+ pounds of muscle of bunny nodded his head as Sinatra skipped to the door. "You got a show tonight?" Paul asked, opening the door for the petite fox. "Why of course, hun. And I'll even dedicate it to you this time," he giggled softly and gave both the bear and the rabbit a kiss on the cheek as he hopped in, looking around in wonder. This place still never amazes me, he thought to himself. He passed by a female leopard, obviously out of place, and headed to the bar. He walked like a female in heat, chest thrust out, hips sauntering and winking to anyone who stared "Heya Greg!" he chirped happily, a smile sent to the wolf behind the bar. The wolf, also the owner, was as straight as a 180 degree angle. "How long until I'm on?" He sat down at a stool, his elbows on the bar, his head in his paws. "Aye, an hour me thinks," The wolf resonded, a horrible scottish accent along with the answer. "Reasonable enough," Sinatra spoke, a coke (No alcohol) thrusted into his paws. "Guess I'll get comfy..."
Because I can.