Starving Artist

[Kaylee Miller]

Fairfax Whitley was growing weary of navigating the streets for a friendly establishment willing to hire him on. It was cropping up to be quite a draining experience, physically and mentally, traipsing up and down from 14th to 35th to 52nd Street with progressively plummeting hopes and gradually darkening skies pressing down on him, slowing his steps. Does no one in this bloody city want live music in their establishments anymore, if it isn’t some hyped-up bit of cleavage belching into a microphone hooked up to a shoddy speaker system? Have I even seen a piano all day...?

He was practically dragging his feet by the time he approached this new place...this “Hellcat’s Hollow”. Charming name, he mused wryly to himself, thumbing his glasses and brushing his hair out of his face with a halfhearted gesture-- it tumbled obdurately back into place. The other hand kept its death-grip on his black binder, knuckles slowly whitening. He slowed his pace to a veritable crawl, keeping a wary eye on the wooden sign hanging sentinel over the doorway. He still wasn’t terribly sure he like the name...but the sign truly DID have a modicum of charm to it (no derision attached). It was rather old-fashioned, with elegant lettering...even the bestial cat curled about the words possessed certain grace.

In spite of his tiring afternoon, he found himself smiling slightly. Exhaustion sometimes lends itself to whimsy. Well...what have I got to lose? Can’t afford to be picky, now, can I... No disreputable individuals have come barging out, yet, after all.

Uselessly pushing at his hair again and reinforcing his grasp on the binder, he cast a paranoid glance around the street --walking alone was doing nothing for his fragile nerves-- before ducking into Hellcat’s Hollow.

Relief washed over Fairfax as he stepped over the threshold, from a forbidding environment straight into what felt like asylum-- the lights were dim, but not remotely as threatening as the advent of evening outside, and the noise level was as muted as the lighting. He allowed his tense shoulders to relax and the small smile to return as he approached the bar deferentially, where a taller, darker man stood abstractedly cleaning a glass and glancing at the television.

“Er...excuse me,” he spoke up mildly, and as usual, he was horribly aware of his accent: he was slowly learning that it was the sort of accent that made American women (well...most women) flock to his elbow with adoring eyes, and American men (most men) regard him with about as much horror/contempt/disgust as they would something frilly, scented, and of an appalling shade of pink. He pressed on, trying to ignore these thoughts. “Might I see the owner? Regarding...employment?”

[Darren Liten]

Yes, Darren spent far too much time at work.

Yes, he knew that.

No, he wasn't about to change it.

At this point and time, he was off of school for the most part (just one class this semester, so he could focus on not getting picked off by vampires), so his time was usually broken down between getting beat on by his cousin, who had suddenly gotten a lot stronger (or started taking it harder on him), and going to work.  Work was easily the best of the two situations.

Cleaning some glasses and staring at the television was a great thing to be doing, as far as he was concerned, and so he didn't greet the guy walking in immediately, though he was very aware of him.  Darren just wanted to get a grip on what he thought of the guy before interacting.  There was something...interesting about him.  Something he couldn't pinpoint until he turned, smiled and deliberately leaned closer than he had to when he put the glass away.  That was when he stole a whiff of the air around the guy, and that smile turned into a grin.

A fellow feline.

"Hey there, buddy," he returned, though he didn't get the chance to ask what he could get him before the man got much more interesting.  "You want a job, huh?  Why should I go bug Ash about getting you a job?  Impress me."

He said it with a confident cross between a grin and a smirk, obviously enjoying himself.  It was obvious in those chartreuse green eyes of his that he was pleased with the situation, and he WOULD go get Ash.  He wanted to hear what the kid had to say first, though.

[Kaylee Miller]

Must not be intimidated...

Fairfax stared apprehensively up into the startlingly green eyes of the bartender, a chill dancing up his spine for no reason that he could perceive...beyond the fact that those eyes really were of a queer hue. So bright!

He stumbled over his next words, the pitch he'd rehearsed and delivered countless times that day. "M-my name's Whitley. Fairfax Whitley. I..." He nearly dropped the binder as he fished it out and began flipping through. "I'm a p...a mus...a pianist, a pianist." Muted: "Bloody hell..."

So much for 'nearly'. The binder hit the floor and, too jittery to take his eyes off the undoubtedly unimpressed bartender, he left it alone and rushed to continue, sans visual aid. "Well, what, I don't hear any music in here, and what's a bar without some entertainment?" Hm. That wasn't part of the speech. Oddly enough, he felt more at ease neglecting the script. All right, improv it was (Lord knew he could do it well enough on a keyboard). "Good entertainment," he added, a smile tugging at one side of his mouth. "I'm not asking for every night or anything, but if ever you wanted to liven up the atmosphere in here...I have a keyboard I can bring in and hook up, if there isn't a piano at hand...heh, so to speak..." At this he finally tore his eyes away from the taller man for a moment, casting his gaze around the room for the instrument in question.

[Darren Liten]

He laughed some, trying not to be mean but unable to help finding it kind of interesting how easily intimidated the kid was.  Imagine, being afraid of him.  He seemed to have 'coffin bait' written all over his forehead anymore.  Still, he was going to make sure the kid was tough enough to deal with the Hollow before getting Ash.  Ash would be more difficult to deal with if he DIDN'T prepare the kid.

"So, you play piano.  That's cool.  What else do you have going for you?  There are a LOT of musicians out there, you know.  Why should I take you upstairs and not someone else?  And don't just say it's because we're both cats, or I might show you the difference between a leopard and a cougar.  No free rides because of shared felinity."

No, felinity wasn't a word.  He made it up, and he liked it.  He also didn't know that Fairfax wasn't aware of his feline traits.  He assumed, considering how easily he'd picked up on it all of a sudden, that the guy must know.  How did you not know you were a cat?  It was the coolest thing in the world!

[Kaylee Miller]

Fairfax turned back as the bartender spoke up, steeling himself for flat-out rejection. It didn't come, but there was clear skepticism, and when the other man commented on the surplus of musicians in the city he began to interject, "Ah, but I'm not just any--" But the man continued, and his well-established civility obliged Fairfax to break off.

"And don't just say it's because we're both cats, or I might show you the difference between a leopard and a cougar.  No free rides because of shared felinity."

Partially hidden by his unruly hair, his eyebrows arched. What...the devil is this man talking about? After getting past his initial mystification, his mind raced to discern the meaning behind those enigmatic words. All right. Cats. Leopard. Cougar. Er...the bar? It IS called Hellcat's Hollow. Might his mentioning these felines relate to the name of this place? Quirky, to say the least...or, he continued to ruminate, troubled, perhaps it's some American in-joke. How nice. Mess with the Briton. ...And what sort of word is 'felinity', anyway?

All he could muster after these thoughts was a passably polite query of "What are you talking about?" Feeling that was still a bit rude, he forced up a new smile and went on: "At any rate, if you heard me play, you probably wouldn't have any reservations...but if you needed additional help around the bar...I mean, I don't have any other jobs right now."

[Darren Liten]

He hesitated at the confused look he got, then hopped over the bar in a manner that a cat shouldn't have been able to manage, getting right in Fairfax's face and taking a sniff.  He'd let his eyes fall closed for a moment as he paid close attention, and then they opened again looking like nothing a human has ever sported.  That was actually intentional, and he fixed Fairfax with them, suddenly serious. 

Fortunately, there weren't enough customers to worry about this sort of a display, and they were all regulars, i.e. 'used to it'.

"You're a cougar," he repeated, more firmly this time.  "You didn't know?"  At this, he cocked his head to the side some, raising his hand before the two of them, palm facing himself and his fingers towards the ceiling.  He effortlessly let black fur spread across his wrist and up over the back of his hand, allowing his fingernails to sharpen and elongate some.  For him, shifting was almost like a release, something that he'd done far too often because he liked it all his life, and now it felt just as natural to be a cat as it did to be a human.  This show didn't bother him in the least, and actually made him feel better. 

"See?  I'm a leopard," he pointed out, turning his hand to show Fairfax the palm, then back to the way it had been.  He'd completely ignored talk of the job for the moment. 

[Kaylee Miller]

He flinched and shrank back, utterly flummoxed, as the bartender suddenly went airborne and vaulted over the counter in one fluid, impossible movement, and then brought his face down to...to sniff Fairfax.

Flummoxed wasn't even the word for it. Nerves jangling, he couldn't even conceive of moving.

And then the other man opened his eyes.

Everything came rushing back and crashing down like a tidal wave. The memory of his mugging. His delirium-fueled visualization of the man who had attacked him. Cat. That was right. Cat...person. But that hadn't been real, not that! He'd have to be MAD to think...

The bartender was saying something about cougars again, and lifting his hand. Fairfax was already beginning to quiver, thanks to the memory of his fearsome attacker resurfacing at such an inopportune moment. Good Gad...all of this was linked like some sort of cruel, sick, twisted cosmic prank: the bizarre man who had mugged, no, mauled him the other week, Hellcat's Hollow, the cat on the sign, leopard, cougar, strange, strange eyes... Bloody cats everywhere!

He clawed his way out of his thoughts like a drowning man just in time to see fur sweep over the bartender's hand. For a moment it didn't even seem to register, and there was certainly no indication of comprehension, looking at his frozen features. "See?  I'm a leopard," the bartender said --his voice sounded oddly muddy to Fairfax in his numb state of shock-- as he turned his...hand?...this way and that.

His delayed reaction was explosive and rather uncharacteristic of poor, temperate Fairfax. "Fecking HELL!" he shrieked, recoiling dramatically and tangling with an interloping barstool, nearly falling. He saw the bartender move forward in a blur, freakish hand stretching for his shirt, and frankly, he would rather embrace the floor then let THAT touch him. He ducked and hit the ground coughing, yammering myriad phrases that --politely AND impolitely-- bade the other to stay away, and began scrambling backwards. A sane little voice in the back of his mind reminded him that he was, in fact, coughing; when he wasn't too busy fleeing, he'd have to take a moment to snag his inhaler...

[Persephone]

Persephone hadn't visited her darling friend Darren in a while, and she had grown lonely at the compound. Jeshickah had let her out under the pretense that she'd better bring back information, and Persephone wasn't about to disobey her Mistress. She hadn't said what time, precisely, she needed to return, just that when she did, it had better be with things that made Jeshickah happy. Persephone was all about making her Mistress happy.

She pushed open the door of the Hollow, a comical toss of her hair aside as she did so. The cold... did not bother her, though she didn't prefer it. She stopped halfway through her entrance, however, and the door swung back and caught her in the arm, giving her a start and causing her to step to the side of it, allowing it to close properly.

She smelled... felines. With an 's'. As in, multiple.

She cocked her head to the side, those vivid green eyes (assuredly that way from an entirely unhealthy amount of time in her animal form) flittering about, this and that, this and that, until... Darren. And an unknown cat. On the floor. Scuttling, actually.

"You've found me a playmate?" she asked. She strode to Darren, no bother as to where he was, or what he was doing. If he was accessible, she was rubbing cheeks with him. If he didn't, well. That would be determined later.

[Darren Liten]

Darren had been startled enough by Fairfax's rather sudden and violent freakout session that he backed off, though that didn't last long.  Once he realized the other man was going to fall on his ass, he lunged forward in an attempt to grab him.  He didn't often miss when it came to things such as that, but the pianist was VERY determined to get away.  Darren's hand came away empty, and Fairfax scuttled across the floor in a fit.  The bartender watched, rather shocked himself, and his hand went normal as he considered getting Ash.  The triste wasn't likely to lie to the kid, but perhaps he had a way of getting the point across to Fairfax that wouldn't make the kid so nervous.  "You don't get it, do you?  You really don't know what you are?" he asked, actually surprised.  It didn't make sense to him that ANYONE could be a shifter and not know it.

The last voice he expected to hear when he glanced towards the door was Persephone's, and that probably also registered in his expression, though she wouldn't care.  Playmate?  For her?  Who?

He thought he was completely himself as she strode towards him, but Persephone had a way of making him slip better than anyone else could, which actually freaked him out some.  He glanced at Fairfax, flicking his eyes up towards the stairs that would take him to Ash's office as obviously as he could, but he wasn't so sure if the kid would understand.  Darren knew better, though.  Persephone would be bad news for a kid who didn't even realize he was a cat, and so would the woman she represented.  Persephone already knew him, but she didn't know Fairfax.  He also knew he wouldn't be quite as good at keeping her away from him if she got too close.

Sure enough, once he got her scent in his nostrils and she was rubbing faces with him, he went right with it, slipping enough just with her around that he didn't feel self-conscious or weird doing that in public.  Fortunately, none of the others in the building really cared.  They were used to far more excitement. 

[Kaylee Miller]

Buggering... He had to stop moving and grope for his inhaler in his jacket pocket; the coughing had slipped into wheezing, and despite his greatest desire to leap to his feet and flee from this place, he could only manage to press his back to the bar, yanking a stool between himself and the mutant bartender with one hand while eliciting his medication with the other.

Inhaler at his mouth, he kept his eyes locked fearfully on the man beyond the stool. He was still horrified by what he had seen, but now that he was no longer retreating, it was inevitable that he calm down a shred, and as the bartender addressed him he was composed enough to realize that he, too, sounded surprised. 'What you are'? he thought desperately, thoughts spinning. What does that mean, "really don't know what you are"??

And then there was a new voice. He flinched and caught sight of a woman approaching the bartender, a lovely, slender woman...who...felt wrong. Just like the bartender. His eyes widened. Feck. He could see her eyes-- also just like the bartender. He stared anxiously at the new woman as she advanced (and did not see Darren's attempt to guide him to the stairway)...and gawked as the two began to rub faces.

What is this place, some sort of cat cult?!

He was breathing normally enough, now, and slowly began to edge his way to his feet. Those two looked rather involved with one another; perhaps he could make a dash for the door...

[Persephone]

Persephone gave Darren a playful nip - no malevolence on her part, and turned, tilting her head again in that strange, awkward way only a cat could. "You don't want to stay?" she asked. She sounded confused - why would he not want to stay? Cats belonged together, or they did for as long as she tolerated them, anyways.

She left Darren's side abruptly, aiming to sidestep around Fairfax before he could get to the door. "Play?" she asked. And there it was, the bane of their existance - all cats that she had encountered before, anyways. The ball. Silver, aluminum foil, wrapped into a tight fixture around a catnip center. She held it up, in his face more than likely.

"Play?" she repeated again.

[Darren Liten]

Darren wasn't a complete idiot, even if he could pass for one on occasion, and as such, he could see that Fairfax's panic wasn't really fading out much.  The kid really didn't know what he was.  In Darren's opinion, a desire to play with a little foil ball was NOT the way for him to find out.

The instant Persephone's back was turned to him, he pointed at the stairs, being more obvious since Fairfax hadn't noticed the first time.  Besides, being more obvious gave him a distraction, since he'd wanted to go after that ball as soon as he saw it.  Not good.  If Fairfax went upstairs, he could only hope the kid would fill Ash in on what was going on downstairs. 

Ash would have a nicer way of introducing the new shifter to their world, too.  Thus, he put a little more focus into jerking his head to the side and pointing.  And looking directly at Fairfax.  Not at the ball.  He didn't see the ball.  What ball?

Yeah, right.

[Kaylee Miller]

Fairfax started, hearing the woman address him, and turned to shoot a glance at her to gauge the distance...can still make a run for--

Hell! Suddenly she was right in front of him! She'd moved like a bloody dancer, evocative of the bartender's smooth hurdle over the counter, and now...he blinked, trying to adjust his focus. She was holding something directly in front of his nose.

"Play?" she queried, almost like an invitation.

It appeared to be a small sphere covered in aluminium foil, gripped between her fingers. Of all the things that he'd encountered this evening, this was not the strangest, but it was nevertheless quite unexpected. And inexplicable.

"I...er...what?" he stammered, still tense, shaken, and breathing hard, eyes darting from the ball, to the woman's face, to the door, back to the bartender...who was making animated gestures in another direction, which he quizzically and automatically followed with his eyes. A stairwell...? He looks rather adamant about this...

He turned his attention back to the lady and her offering, trying to determine the best course of action: turn around and head for the stairs, ask the woman for an explanation, or...well, book it out the door. At least he wasn't as panicky, now, which allowed room for coherent, organized thoughts. In fact, he felt much better...a little warmer, relaxed, even...

What an interesting ball...no wonder she's presenting it to me...

No...perhaps I should go upstairs...

Coherent and organized were generous adjectives. Confused and a little dazed, he took a step backwards, towards the stairs. His evident interest remained on the shiny little ball, although for the life of him he couldn't understand why it should hold any fascination.

[Persephone]

"Yeah, play. You don't know this game?" she asked, eyes wide with bewilderment. She glanced up at Darren, and smiled. "He knows," she said with a nod. She drew back and threw the ball, letting it sail right beyond Darren's reach in his human form.

"It's easy. I promise, you're a natural talent," she offered. She leaned forward, to touch his nose to hers, and then of course, to rub cheeks. Persephone was quite pretty, and most men wouldn't have minded the company, but Fairfax was obviously nervous beyond belief at all this excitement. She wouldn't react too much if he yanked away - not like she would have at Darren, who was familiar enough with her to understand her common greeting.

[Kaylee Miller]

Play? Game? Again, Fairfax was wondering if there was some sort of hidden code involved, here. There was obviously something unscrupulous going on (what with the mutant bartender and the unaccountably intriguing ball and his increasingly foggy mind). But then the woman turned and threw the little foil ball across the room, and he felt himself jerk to attention, following its movement not just with his eyes, but his entire head.

There was enough of his mind left that he realized, a moment later, how ludicrous it was that he actually felt excited by an aluminium-covered projectile, how absurd it was that he'd felt a momentary desire to leap after it...

He'd definitely had a reasonable whiff of the catnip, not that he had any inkling of this. The ball didn't need to be around anymore for him to be losing a battle he wasn't completely aware of fighting; after all, he hadn't yet been exposed to anything in the past couple of weeks that could be considered a trigger for the dormant cat that had so recently taken up residence within. It also could not be conducive to the situation that a full moon was almost around the corner (and he a cougar, of all things).

The only sensation he could liken it to was falling asleep: yes, it was as though a part of him, a very important part of him, were slipping into unconsciousness. He was trying to cling to every thought he could rightly call his own before it would slip away and become replaced with...with...it was indescribable. As if, as this one part of him fell asleep, one of his own dreams manifested itself as an awareness, and was surfacing to substitute his regular thoughts, emotions, outlooks, perceptions...

"It's easy. I promise, you're a natural talent." The woman, the lovely, lovely woman, was in his face again. Contact. Pleasant contact. A sense of giddyness swept over him, and cognizant thought shut down, like someone flicking a switch. He rubbed back.

Puurrrr.