Foggy wasn’t even aware that Jack’s bar had a karaoke machine, let alone actually used it for karaoke nights. But with the amount of alcohol in his system, and the number of skeletons he’s been working on pulling out of his closet, the revelation is one he is absolutely going to take advantage of. It takes him all of two minutes to decide on an act– not just a song, he is a performer when he becomes more liquor than water– and then all he has to do is wait for his turn.
Usually, he loves to people watch. But knowing exactly how far he is from the ‘typical’ patron of the pub, he instead spends his time ordering another shot of liquid courage and keeping his head down. When his name is called, he shoots Jack an apologetic smile (which he’ll understand in a moment), and heads to the stage.
In his defense, Foggy had had vocal training, in those summers his folks had sent him off to theatre camp. That doesn’t mean the falsetto isn’t a little belabored, but hey, he was drunk and making the best of it. And speaking of theatre– Foggy was an absolute ham, entertaining himself approaching the ladies (and gents) who dared to offer him a laugh, playing it up.
He swaggers his way over to the bar during the bridge, gearing up with the vocalization and deciding to go all out– with a gentle nudge to get the man’s attention, Foggy plants a quick, sloppy kiss to a stubbled cheek.
And then he makes out the profile of the man he just kissed, and freezes halfway through the building vocal. Deep breaths, Nelson. Sexually harassing a billionaire is. Probably fine.
Picking up with the next repeat of the chorus, Foggy heads back to the stage. God bless alcohol, he manages to hit his stride again, finishing the song with a flourish and a melodramatic bow.
Now for the matter of settling his tab. Shit.
