@taitale
Clubs were not Tim’s thing. Even when undercover, he preferred to avoid them. But a networking opportunity was a networking opportunity, at the end of the day, and there were cases to solve and contacts to be established.
Alvin Draper, young art thief, was probably someone who enjoyed scenes such as this, though, so here he was. He already wanted to find a hole to crawl into and never be found. At least this place didn’t have too many flashing lights and loud music. It was a little more high-end. It wasn’t too different from being strong-armed by the Drakes into attending galas where he was toted around like some doll to show off. Except this time he wasn’t a doll, and was doing all the charming smiles and asking all the right questions all by himself.
A familiar song and dance, by now. This time will be no different. He brushes past the bouncers easily enough — his fake ID might as well be authentic with the work he’s put into it — and he’s making his way towards the central bar in order to have a decent view of his surroundings.
He knows exactly what kind of people actually frequent this place. But he has to play his cards right, or this’ll all be a bust. Mask or no.
Alvin smoothly slides into a stool close (but not directly next) to one of the younger socialites that frequented this place, and waits. Orders himself a drink, puts forth the purposeful energy of someone new that was going to act like they belonged until they did. That’s what Alvin does, after all. Fake it ‘till you make it, or not at all.
“Perfect night to stay indoors,” a passive comment, not exactly directed to anyone, and a typical conversation starter. No one actually likes to talk about the weather, yet they do it anyways.
Felicia Hardy was what the tabloids called a party animal. She was always in one picture or another, stumbling out of a car or a nightclub, clinging onto friends with similar wealth, or acting like some sort of accessory to a less-than-favorable guy who was probably suspected of some crime. To do what she did, you had to have discipline. No, we aren't talking about partying.
You had to be able to position yourself around people convincingly. You couldn't be smart enough that they cottoned on. You had to play stupid and playing stupid was really hard. You couldn't dumb it down to the point of being unbelievable. Then you would be caught. No, you had to be ditzy enough to seem blase without seeming like a poor attempt at comedy.
You also had to dress the part. This was the easiest because Felicia loved getting dressed up and she was the kind of girl who just knew it in her bones that she looked good. She didn't have the be the prettiest. She just had to have the confidence that she was. It did a lot. Take tonight for instance, the slip of a blue dress that was dangerously sheer and dangerously short with slits on either side that almost reached her hips. The kind of dress that did two things; brought trouble and made people think you perhaps relied on your physical assets because you didn't have much else other than money and looks. She could almost laugh in their fast sometimes as she twirled a lock of hair around her index finger and giggled 'what's that?' to the most simple of things. They didn't know they were going to be in some sort of financial ruin once she was done.
Tonight was one of those nights as she danced against the bar and held her fingers up for three more shots. She heard the voice next to her as she glanced at him through sharp winged eyeliner. A Felicia staple. "It is always summer inside, baby!" She said over the music before her eyes narrowed. "Baby, you are in a club. No one cares about the weather." She looked him up and down before her eyebrow quirked. "First time?"
