#liikeacanary

[yxhtzee-blog]

♦-♦-♦█┊                              liikeacanary

      ❛so, mistah..❜

                    don’t be fooled by her alluring c h a r m. ( ɪғ ɪᴛ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴏɴ sᴀɴᴇ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ) ..her interests may vastly differ from ones o w n. which her next lot of seductively whispered words demonstrate;

                                       ❛------ya ever bit a guys ear OFF? ❜

[thchost-blog]

Everything is Fixed

liikeacanary

                                          DRINK | DANCE | REVEL

The Dreamland Ballroom’s official slogan ---- and by God, they intended to stick by it.

Such pesky things as the Volstead Act hardly concerned them. Let everyone know that the ballroom was a speakeasy. Certainly, any drinks offered at the bar would be referred to as ‘virgin’ with a well-timed wink – but it was but a mere formality. The club’s patrons could not be expected to dance while sober -- now, could they? How was one supposed to dance and revel without a few glasses of liquor in them?

It wasn’t that they could do as they please ---- or, in fact, it WAS. The Sheriff was far from turning a blind eye on a profit, and Management had local police in their back pocket. Oh ---- what? The feds? Oh, weren’t they a laugh. Yes, there were the feds – who had proven themselves to be entirely useless. Understaffed, they couldn’t even begin to wrap their heads around not only local speakeasies, but distilleries and import networks (Canada and the UK, mostly), warehouses stacked with beer barrels and crates filled with whiskey bottles. Surely, they’d shut down the occasional joint in a pathetic attempt at demonstrating strength; nothing a few dead presidents or a loaded pistol couldn’t solve.

It was, indeed, the best of times; and the Host found it was the best of places. Waltzing around the swankiest joint in town in a five hundred dollar tux, a cigarette in one hand and a gin and tonic in the other, all bright smiles and kind, soft-spoken words to any Sheba or sheik who required his attention. This was worth leaving England for; hell, it was worth all the shit he had to go through back in England just to get here.

It was his job to welcome newcomers into the club - visiting it for the first time could become quite the overwhelming experience, and he was there to, well… ‘ease’ the patrons into it, so to speak ---- and more importantly ---- make them want to come back. And so it was that, with an unusually empty glass, he took a lean against the bar beside a lone patron. No one had come to refresh the Host’s drink, and the patron had yet been approached – both situations that required reprimanding.

”Good evening, darling.” He murmured as he propped his arm against the bar and gestured his hand for one of the bartenders to approach. It wasn’t personal, really ---- he called everyone names. Darling. Sweetheart. Honey. Lover. Pet. “The usual, love, if you could be so kind.” He requested, gaze turned momentarily from the young man beside him as he watched the bartender, though it returned quickly to its previous mark. “What’ll you have?”