the night turns silver when you breathe...

[takecourage]

More often than not, she spends shifts in the office or behind the bar but, every so often, she gets up on stage or works the floor. Usually, it's because someone's called out, or because they're busier than anticipated. Tonight, it's the latter. Alex had rummaged through the bag that she keeps in the bottom drawer of a filing cabinet in the office and come up with an outfit that worked: a black corset, underwear, stockings, heels. She'd leaned over the chipped sink in the bathroom back there and done her make-up, thick eyeliner and red lips. On impulse, she'd snapped a selfie and sent it to Darlington.

Tell me how you'll serve me 'til the end of days x

Out on the floor, she dances and sweats, flirts, accepts drinks or doesn't, depending on her mood. She's just finished a drink when she looks up and sees him walk through the door. They've arranged a sitter for Edie so that they can stay at Dimera street tonight, go out before.

She stands, and waits for him to see her.

Comments

[more_magic]

It used to be that he'd wait in the club's cramped parking lot, the car either off to save gas money or idling for the warmth of the heater; he was there, but not as present, accepting this even as he questioned the necessity of it. She'd left it behind, left it for Yale and for Lethe--and, though he hadn't thought so at the time, left it for him, in a way. Here, it's taken on a new meaning, or perhaps the same one, just easier to face.

He doesn't understand it as well as he'd like, any more than he fully comprehends the message she sends him tonight and has repeated in the past. But like that, like the idea of the end of days, it feels weighty and true even without the benefit of understanding.

Rather than wait in the car, he parks and goes towards the door, feeling the thump of the music as he makes his way towards the stage. It isn't Alex there, but he catches the dark movement at the corner of his eye and turns to see her at the bar, her sleek hair a spill over one shoulder and her mouth a slash of red. He feels the pull of her attention in his gut, in his chest, and lets himself be drawn forward.

"Good night?"