09-26-2023, 05:08 AM
So at Jaxen's comment, Mik grinned widely and barked a laugh. "Now now, Doll, I gotcha. You don't have to worry your pretty little head. Nobody's gonna mess up the money maker, I promise." And he meant it too.
Not that there was any real danger. I mean yeah, ok. The Champaign Room- at least the one he knew of- was kind of small. And it got crowded. It wasn't always possible to avoid becoming part of the show.
So yeah, ok, Mik would make sure Jaxen was safe. No sense in making enemies with the Marveets even if his companion was currently out of favor. Whatever the wealthy felt about their wayword offspring, any hurt one of them suffered was taken personally.
And he did not want to be on the hook if Jaxen took a shot to his nose or his nut sack. Damaging the family jewels- literally- would probably interfere with his current goal of doing whatever the fuck he wanted whenever the fuck he wanted. It was his career and he was damn good at it, so far.
They followed the tunnel. It was just wide enough for both of them, but it wasn't dirty or dark like a real tunnel in the rocks. The ground was had been poured concrete and metal pipes ran along the length of the roof with light fixtures that shone at regular junctures. He knew that some of the others carried water as well as maybe gas.
He strode deeper, feeling the pressure and oppressiveness as the rock swallowed them up. He looked at Jaxen. "Seriously, man, it's all good," He said reassuringly. He wasn't sure if the guy was claustrophobic, but it was something to say. I mean he felt it, sure. A lot. More than a lot.
Curious thing, that. He didn't like this feeling, that was for sure. He felt his heart beat faster as the air pressure changed. But that only made him force himself to go on. He wasn't gonna be a little bitch even wuth lhimself. When he was on the cross cinched tight and the black leather hood over his face prevented even the tiniest sliver of light from showing, he felt the same fear and discomfort. And he had learned to just power through it.
So yeah, it sucked. And maybe that was why it seemed to take longer that it really did. Rounding a curve, they came to a heavy wooden door. He knocked and the door opened to reveal a distinguished old man in a tuxedo. "Can I help you?" Mik smiled and in a pleasant voice said, "How are you today, sir? My friend Jaxen and I were out visiting people in your neighborhood to share some good news."
The man's eyes widened and his eyebrows climbed. Mik laughed a friendly way and clapped the guy on his shoulder. "Nah, just fuckin' with you, Dedushka." He shifted and pointed back to Jaxen. "My buddy Jaxen and I wanted to check out some of the dancing." He pulled his wallet out and swiped it to show his clip.
The old man looked from him to the clip, mentally assessing if they met the cover charge. He hoped they would. Everyone was charged differently, almost whimsically. He'd never heard there was any real pattern to it. He hid his concern, imagining the Lady standing behind the man, deciding if they could see what she was up to.
The man nodded after a moment and stepped back to let them in. It was a waiting or entry room of sorts, a coat room to one side, and a bar on the other. Another heavy wooden door was set into the opposite wall. They were still stone, but the lighting that spidered from the ceiling into this room was a light blue purple, softening to rock. A few erotic photo prints in ornate frames hung on the walls, which he made sure to check out. A cute bartender was currently muddling some herbs in a glass, a bottle of vodka on the counter. Moscow Mule, maybe?
Mik looked at Jaxen and then nodded to the bar. Let's get a drink and then head in." He ordered a Long Island- heavy on the Island- and took a sip when it was passed to him. Nice, He said and tipped the guy.
When Jaxen was ready, he pointed at the door. "Let's see who's dancing tonight," and grabbed the handle.
It had been a good sound proofed door, that was for sure. Only when it had been opened did the sound of slaps and thuds suddenly greet their ears.
Not that there was any real danger. I mean yeah, ok. The Champaign Room- at least the one he knew of- was kind of small. And it got crowded. It wasn't always possible to avoid becoming part of the show.
So yeah, ok, Mik would make sure Jaxen was safe. No sense in making enemies with the Marveets even if his companion was currently out of favor. Whatever the wealthy felt about their wayword offspring, any hurt one of them suffered was taken personally.
And he did not want to be on the hook if Jaxen took a shot to his nose or his nut sack. Damaging the family jewels- literally- would probably interfere with his current goal of doing whatever the fuck he wanted whenever the fuck he wanted. It was his career and he was damn good at it, so far.
They followed the tunnel. It was just wide enough for both of them, but it wasn't dirty or dark like a real tunnel in the rocks. The ground was had been poured concrete and metal pipes ran along the length of the roof with light fixtures that shone at regular junctures. He knew that some of the others carried water as well as maybe gas.
He strode deeper, feeling the pressure and oppressiveness as the rock swallowed them up. He looked at Jaxen. "Seriously, man, it's all good," He said reassuringly. He wasn't sure if the guy was claustrophobic, but it was something to say. I mean he felt it, sure. A lot. More than a lot.
Curious thing, that. He didn't like this feeling, that was for sure. He felt his heart beat faster as the air pressure changed. But that only made him force himself to go on. He wasn't gonna be a little bitch even wuth lhimself. When he was on the cross cinched tight and the black leather hood over his face prevented even the tiniest sliver of light from showing, he felt the same fear and discomfort. And he had learned to just power through it.
So yeah, it sucked. And maybe that was why it seemed to take longer that it really did. Rounding a curve, they came to a heavy wooden door. He knocked and the door opened to reveal a distinguished old man in a tuxedo. "Can I help you?" Mik smiled and in a pleasant voice said, "How are you today, sir? My friend Jaxen and I were out visiting people in your neighborhood to share some good news."
The man's eyes widened and his eyebrows climbed. Mik laughed a friendly way and clapped the guy on his shoulder. "Nah, just fuckin' with you, Dedushka." He shifted and pointed back to Jaxen. "My buddy Jaxen and I wanted to check out some of the dancing." He pulled his wallet out and swiped it to show his clip.
The old man looked from him to the clip, mentally assessing if they met the cover charge. He hoped they would. Everyone was charged differently, almost whimsically. He'd never heard there was any real pattern to it. He hid his concern, imagining the Lady standing behind the man, deciding if they could see what she was up to.
The man nodded after a moment and stepped back to let them in. It was a waiting or entry room of sorts, a coat room to one side, and a bar on the other. Another heavy wooden door was set into the opposite wall. They were still stone, but the lighting that spidered from the ceiling into this room was a light blue purple, softening to rock. A few erotic photo prints in ornate frames hung on the walls, which he made sure to check out. A cute bartender was currently muddling some herbs in a glass, a bottle of vodka on the counter. Moscow Mule, maybe?
Mik looked at Jaxen and then nodded to the bar. Let's get a drink and then head in." He ordered a Long Island- heavy on the Island- and took a sip when it was passed to him. Nice, He said and tipped the guy.
When Jaxen was ready, he pointed at the door. "Let's see who's dancing tonight," and grabbed the handle.
It had been a good sound proofed door, that was for sure. Only when it had been opened did the sound of slaps and thuds suddenly greet their ears.
"Good and ill.
We're like the wind,
we blows both ways."
- Mad Sweeney, American Gods
- Mad Sweeney, American Gods