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[ Harmony] ||Host Club-Group -RP||


Guest OkataShin
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Guest OkataShin

Welcome to Club Harmony!

 

 

OOC thread here

 

Metro_Galleries_Wine_Bar_by_chrisables.jpg

 

Hosts: 4

OkataShin - Ren (seke)

Saga - Kai (seme)

b.lueeyes - Ryuu (uke/seke)

SqueezeBabe - Shaun Pitmann (seke)

 

 

Customers: 4

Dusutii - Matthew Collins (uke)

Tama - Masami Yamato (seke)

Murasaki Tsubaki - Hiroyuki Sousuke (seke)

Teesie -Yosuke Siya (seme)

 

The boss of Club Harmony:

 

Appearance:

anime-man-Favimcom-467869_larg.jpg

Only with violet eyes.

 

Name:

Hamasaki Takeshi

 

Character's Club alias:

Unknown

 

Age:

A bit above thirty, a bit below forty.

 

Position in Club:

The owner or "boss", which is how people call him at the work place.

 

Position in bed:

Unknown

 

History:

The only thing commonly known about his history is that he is a former host and a very rich man.

 

Personality:

Strict when it comes to working but still manages to joke around every five minutes. Comes along with all kind people and is mostly a very optimistic person. He's got this mysterious look on his face every time he spaces out and god only knows what he is thinking during those times. He's shown special interest towards girly guys.

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Appearance: 2rz2ayp.jpg

 

 

Character name:

Terumi Seiji

 

Character's Club alias:

Ren*

 

Age:

21

 

Position in Club:

Secretary of Harmony, also a host when requested, but this happens rarely.

 

Position in bed:

Seke

 

Specialty:

-Lounge:

Rarely goes there in other business than secretary-work but when he does go there as a host, he just takes off his glasses. His "ability" to make people fall at first glance is pretty useful as a host.**

 

-Backroom:

He doesn't go there.

 

History:

He's been living alone as long as he can remember. Well not exactly alone. He has got a cat but that's it.

His early history is colored by violence and sex, and during his childhood they were the only things he saw. He never speaks of them to anyone though, because they're related to his mother who left him to live alone during his teen years.

During the summer between junior high and high school, he became a host at a host club, which is where he got to know the "boss". He worked as a host illegally during the age of 16-20, and that was when the last club was folded. Those were also the times when he fought against some gangs.

Now he's working as a secretary just because his temper got their last club into problems many times. He can't deny the fact, however, that he still desires to be a host at times.

 

Personality:

He's a very serious person when it comes to work and relationships. He doesn't like fooling around with feelings (his own or anyone else's either). He's a proud soul and finds it hard to admit defeat or being wrong. On the other hand, he's a very sympathetic and caring person. The usual side, however, what you'll see of him is the grumpy, badass-secretary who'll just glare at you, unless you're being nice and polite towards him.

 

 

Other:

He never kisses at work. He never has done that and never will. He stated to his boss this right in the beginning that having sex with the customers is fine, but kissing someone outside of a relationship is just unforgivable. In his opinion it actually gives the customers more false hope than necessary.

Never ever make the mistake and call him feminine. He'll explode into rage. And we're literally talking about exploding here.

*Ren-san or Ren-sama is the proper way of calling him at work, unless you're a close friend of his.

Seiji has been said to have the "eyes of devil" because when he takes his classes off, and you look him into his eyes, you'll fall from the first glance already. (If he wants to look at you that way.) Of course this ability isn't working against experienced/skilled flirts who've seen many this kind of abilities before. But for those ordinary customers in the club, this works excellently.

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It was ten past 4pm. A huge longcase-clock ticked loudly in the corner of Harmony-Club's lounge, waiting for five o'clock to arrive. Someone else was waiting for it as well. On the bar, stood a lonely glass half of wine. The clear coating of it shone in the dim light of lounge, and it reflected the picture of pale, sharp face. Seiji grabbed the glass with his long fingers and rotated it slowly in his hand. His bright-blue eyes followed the fascinating movements of the red liquid for a while before he eventually decided to bring the glass to his lips. He opened his lips slightly, and let the wine flow past them to his mouth. It tasted sweet, but also a bit bitter. He closed his eyes in bliss and his eyelids were shivering from pure pleasure. His personal and most favourite pleasure was dangerously hooking.

"My my, what are my eyes seeing here? My naughty secretary is drinking wine during his work time. What should I do?" A deep, husky voice interrupted Seiji's moment of bliss and made him open his eyes.He put the glass back to the counter, turned his eyes to the tall man who was leaning against the bar counter not too far away from him,and raised his eyebrows. "My work hasn't officially begun yet since it's only a bit over four." He spoke with a confident tone in his voice, but still obviously respecting his boss."But it'll be a problem for me if my secretary is drunk during the opening time of the club. I might have to do all the work by myself if you drink any more wine." Takeshi mouthed as he made his way slowly towards Seiji. His violet eyes drilled their way through Seiji's as he spoke, not letting the latter turn his eyes away from this dangerously mesmerizing gaze of his. "And that won't do, Seiji." Seiji shivered when he was called by his name. His body felt a little numb and he could feel a tickling sensation go through his nerves all the way from his feet to his back. An enormous pressure was pushing him down, towards the floor and he just barely managed to keep his body from trembling. It was frightening, that power of those violet-coloured eyes. Even though he was able to resist, he could still do nothing but stare with widened eyes as the older man took his wine glass and repeated Seiji's own earlier actions with it. He managed to turn his eyes away just in time before the older man's eyes could once again capture Seiji's eyes into their violet-coloured bottomless prison.

"I think you've messed with my brains enough for today already. If you don't mind, I'll engross back to my papers for now before the employees come so you can go and screw with yourself in your office." Seiji spoke a bit harshly, though he didn't sound angry or offended, just a bit more serious than before. Takeshi laughed quietly and returned the wineglass to Seiji. "As harsh as always... Thanks for the suggestion but I'll pass. I've actually got some work to do too so I'll just leave you here and go fetch some documents from the backroom." His boss spoke and walked away, but before turning around he reached his hand towards Seiji's head and ran his fingers through the black, messy hair with asmall ruffle in the end. This: 1. Made Seiji jump a bit and 2. Brought a smirk to Takeshi's lips.

 

 

Seiji raised his gaze only when he was sure that his boss had turned away and started to walk away. After a few steps he could both hear and see his boss lighting a cigarette and murmur a praise which was directed to him. "Good job kid, resisting my charm. Your eyes are a lot better nowadays." "Tsch, barely." Seiji answered with no voice as his eyes followed his superior make his way to the "staff only"-corridor. Seiji snorted and put his thoughts back to the papers once again. It was 20 past four. After ten minutes, the employees would becoming in and after 40 minutes the club would be opened for customers. "Just like in the old times, eh?" He spoke to himself and once again brought the wineglass to his lips.

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Castlevania___Leon_Belmont_by_noei1984.jpg

 

Character name: -Yosuke Siya

Age: -24

Position in club: -Customer

Position in bed: -Seme

 

History: Yosuke is more so a lazy student that goes to college online for a bachelor degree in arts and design. Due to difficulties with the relatives that he lives with, the blond escaped to the club to continue with school work. Family has never been a tremendous aspect in the male's life, seeing as neither looked out for one another. Growing around an atmosphere as such made the other a bit stubborn and calculating. Such a simple petty life, it's all so understandable.

 

Personality: Calculating, stubborn and a bit selfish. Dislikes to give in to attraction but can't help staring to something of interest. Calm, cool but lazy. Could be very dense at times and would need help with certain problems.

 

Other: Yosuke Siya has always hated being called useless or absurd, even though at times he could be. It's something that he was called constantly as a kid, and at this point on life it was getting annoying if not old.

 

The blond had a liking for reptiles, but every since the time Yosuke woke to the mouth of an open snake, the male is completely terrified of any scaly object. It was defiantly a blow to his pride and made sure to hide the fright quite controllable.

 

______________________________________________

 

Yosuke sighed as he was once again disturbed by the calling of his name. It was his parents who was, as always, arguing over a useless topic. The work on his computer was once again left unattended as the blond sluggishly dragged himself down the stairs. Ayana, the mother, was surely pissed at his father, David. It was once again a falsely accused 'cheating' that his father was suppose to have been done. There was only one more subject that was more ignorant than what was going on.

 

"What do you think I should do Yosuke?" That was the ignorant subject. The blond's mother always seemed to ask him of what the two of them should do. The last time Yosuke checked, he was going to school for arts and designs and not a marriage counselor. Every advice he seemed to give his parents always back tired on him. If the date or whatnot went terrible, Yosuke was the blame. After a while it all gets boring so he had come up with a plan of his own. Whenever the two asked for his advice, he would answer with the same saying.

 

"Why don't you two get a divorce." Silence whisked through the air as surprised glances was thrown his way by both parents. A blank expression laced the student's face as he stared to one parent before staring to the other. There was no intended joke here, Yosuke meant exactly what had*said. He knew that both his parents would never get a divorce, that was why he chose to say that.*

 

"That's a stupid idea. Why would we do such a thing?" His father spoke up.

 

"Why wouldn't you?" The young man countered, wanting to get back to his work. After a answer wasn't given, Yosuke threw his hands up in a peace gesture and disappeared back up the stairs. He needed air and was getting out of the house, now. Taking his laptop captive, the twenty four year old male walked from his room and out the entrance to his home. There just had to be another place where he could chill to do his work.

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Brendan slowly made way around the back of the club, keys jingling in his pocket. As far as jobs went, it wasn't a bad one, better than what he'd had before. He ran a hand through his dark red hair and pushed his glasses up, at least now he wasn't fighting for his money. In another life, he'd been a cage fighter, showing of his mixed-martial arts skills. It was rumoured that he could kill a man with a single blow, a rumour that made him feel sick to his stomach. He couldn't stand all the hype so he got out when he could, changed his appearance as much as he could, cutting off his trademark ponytail and getting himself some glasses. One thing he couldn't hide (and had not intention of doing so) was his physique. He couldn't make himself shorter, and he was proud of the effort that he'd put into his body, and continued to put that effort in. He looked around the carpark to make sure there was no one loitering, no one suspicious that shouldn't have been there. When the coast was "clear" he unlocked the backdoor and made his way inside the club, locking the door behind him as he went.

 

Inside the club he was "Shaun Pitmann". He worked as security and occasionally, and only by specific request, he worked as a Host. He wasn't as charming and suave as the others, the skills of hosting lost on him, but he did know how to pour a drink, light a cigarette, and sit there in silence, his green eyes glittering intensely as he listened to them. When he did speak, it was quietly and with few words, and it seemed that despite his taciturn nature he'd managed to amass a small following. He was strictly by appointment only, the job of security coming first. He made his way down the hallway towards the locker room, his footsteps echoing slightly in the silence. Once inside he changed out of his nondescript jeans and baggy hoodie into his "uniform". He wore a suit, like the rest of them, but his wasn't tight fitting, allowing him the freedom of movement should he need it.

 

He finished making himself look presentable and made his way to the bar area, reaching behind the counter for a glass. He very rarely drank alcohol and preferred soda water with a slice of lime, which is what he made himself, and sat there and waited for the others. They'd be here soon enough, and then the boss would tell him if he had any special appointments. If not, then he'd take his place by the front door and do his job of keeping the trouble makers out of trouble.

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Matthew got home from work and dumped his bag by the door. Finally out of that place, Ugh who knew that some idol had such BAD Fashion sense. He had just spent the last 5 hours shopping with the head of the newest pop band, he couldn't even remember the name of the band of the singer, he just knew he'd spent way to long helping the guy pick out clothes, and then co-ordinate the outfits. The singer could have been good eye candy if he hadn't needed to spend so long with him. With a sigh Matthew lamented how disillusioned his job made him when it came to good looking men and he decided that he needed to visit a particular club.

 

With a smile pulling at the edges of his lips he walked over to his wardrobe and pulled open the doors before walking in. He'd had the walk in wardrobe fitted a few years earlier and despite being up to date with the newest fashion, he still had a fondness for the clothes he brought back in college and so he always refused to get rid of any of his clothes, yet was always buying more, hence the need for an ever growing wardrobe. Some of his men had even accused him of being worse than a woman, usually when they were dumping him. Never mind those idiots, they didn't even want relationships, simply the sex that came with it, but there was nothing that could compare to the feelings present in a true loving relationship and he always sought such a thing.

 

Pulling off the clothes he'd been wearing for the day he dropped them into washing basket and wandered his wardrobe, running his fingers over the soft cloth of the material and pulling out a pair of black jeans. The material was softer than normal denim and a slightly thinner weave and he pulled them on enjoying the way the jeans clung to his skin and sat around his hips. Next he picked out a very thin top, it was a flimsy, almost see through, white material, pulling it over his head he pulled it down, the bottom of the top siting about 2 inches about his jeans showing off a considerable expanse of flesh between the two. Finally he pulled on a fashion waist coat, before leaving the wardrobe and grabbing his make up.

 

He used very subtle make up, a light foundation, very little blusher. The most colourful part was the eyeshadow which was a pale blue, with some black eye liner making it stand out a little more. He didn't bother with any more make up than that, his eyelashes were such a pale blonde colour that they contrasted nicely with his eyeliner. Pulling on a pair of black boots that went under the trousers, the only part visible were the inch odd heel and the toes of the shoes.

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Yuki made his way through MARS Entertainment building together with his friend and band mate Neil. When they passed one of the practice rooms in the second floor, he saw two new faces practice dancing in room no.2. Those two boys looked like they’re just 16 or 17 years old. ‘Must be the new trainees’ he thought to himself. He stops in front of the room and watch through the glass as the boys popping and b-boying competitively. Neil look back as Yuki stopped and watched so he turns around to see what his friend is watching.

 

“That one looks cute” Yuki said. “Which one” Neil asked. “The one with the raven hair” Neil laugh sarcastically and said “What, now you have a thing for teenage kids?” Yuki looked him in the eye and smirk playfully “So….?” Suddenly, a voice came from their back and said “So the boss is calling you, Yuki” The blond turn his head and saw their manager Fujikawa Kyouya coming towards them. Yuki smiled and ask “Really, are you sure?” Kyouya replied with a serious tone “I just came back from his office. He wants you there” Yuki feels annoyed “Err... what does ‘Mr. IM’ wants to say this time?” Kyouya smirk and said “About your little ‘dramas’ probably” Yuki panicked a little “I don’t want to go there alone. Kyouya-san, can you come with me?” The man sternly said “I refuse” Knowing that he couldn’t get Kyouya to go there with him, Yuki turn to Neil but strangely, his tall friend is nowhere to be found. Yuki whined a little “Guess I have no choice”

 

When he arrived at the top floor where the CEO office is located, he saw the secretary smiling at him. She called her boss and said he’s arrived. She drops the phone “You can go in now” He knocked the door twice out of politeness and went in. His boss mahogany office has several photos of MARS Entertainment’s famous Talents. Big cream colored sofas and an oval shape table are located in the middle of the room. There’s a big office desk on the left side and on the desk stands a name-stand made of high quality glassware which says CEO Mr. Isaac McCoy. The wall behind the desk is filled with translucent glass windows where one can clearly see the view outside and in front of them, stands a man in his late forties, looking outside. Yuki sighed inwardly and thought ‘Man, I had a feeling that this is going to take awhile’

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Ichijou Kou; a man of many expectations, even of pride. But what was pride when you had nothing to urge for? When your existence was strictly involved with solely the process of inhaling and exhaling; nothing more and nothing less. Could a man have a pride when he had nothing to fight for, nor he wanted to?

 

His jade, green eyes slid open under the glossy cover of fine and elegant glasses. Although he had a perfect eye-sight, that man wanted to hide behind these glasses. And what he hid was his fearsome gaze of Yakuza heir, which somehow got numbed by the nerdy and strict effect glasses could give. So much he wanted, to be misunderstood. The exact word of the way he wanted to live and be taken by the society.

 

The slightly long hair got ruffled by the playful wind as he opened the door for the club. His expression off emotions as for his eyes, well - plain and empty. To achieve his 'misunderstood' appearance, Kou - known as Kai in the club where he worked - had to drop all his emotions and all of that fearsome presence he could give away. Probably it was a family-thing passed to him from his father. However, the boss allowed Ichijou work there, although the pitch dark background of his, on one condition; he had to adopt a regular appearance and make no troubles in the club. Which basically meant, Ichijou had to work twice hard..

 

Ah. And there was already a host in the club. Seemed too quiet in contrast with when this place was busy. Kai took his hand to his pocket of the long coat of his, to let the keys on easy to remember place. The male lowered a bit his chin, to nod for a greeting. How funny it was, he thought. If his master and father was to see him how he bowed now, for sure some severe punishments would come. Speaking of punishments, Ichijou was very tall and firm. His body was well curved and mesmerizing when he got the bartender's suit on top. One of the reasons he had such a fine and strong body, which though was well balanced on muscles- not too big, but yet catching the eye, was due to his hard training under the wing of his father.

 

Kai was the silent type, calm and very focused. He would rarely get distracted by things, which though gave him the appearance of hard-to-reach-mind. The bartender took his place behind the bar after he took off his coat and stored it backdoor.

 

The silence was too loud, but it didn't bother Kai. In fact, he had nothing to offer for a conversation with the present host.

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The crunch of guitar perfectly suited the clatter of the Metro. Metal on steel on reverb'd string, the kit clatter behind. He'd been listening to a lot of this band, All Over Creation, on his journeys to and from the centre of the city, and their self-titled debut album was among their best work, comprising of a single, monolithic track called "Windup Bird", that even now was reaching its clattering, chaotic, double-drum attack finale. Masami yawned. A few minutes before he reached his station, a few minutes more, and a cup of coffee later, and he'd be in his department, no doubt spattered with paint, a little more awake, and with the sludgy, post metal crunch of Pelican's March to the Sea filling his head. He leant back in his seat, adjusting his headphones, gazing out at the first stirs of autumn, the first burst of fire in the green.

 

He worked best with heavy, vocal-less stuff, at least on these current paintings, large dank canvasses filled with misty skyscrapers, the ice-clad sound, with power cables cutting like loose hairs across pale geisha skin sky. Isis. Pelican. Jesu. Neurosis. Monolithic as their names. Singular. Others sounded dangerous-Russian Circles-or melancholic-Explosions in the Sky. On occasion, when the crunch of guitar got a little same-y, Masami turned to the grande-dammes of post rock, the triumverate of the oddly monikered Godspeed You! Black Emperor, the dark, introspective Scots, Mogwai, and the Icelandic dreamers, Sigur Ros.,

 

The train clattered into the station, the last of the morning commute dissipating, the last late-comers chasing onto trains, or out of the metro terminal. He bought a coffee, pushing the headphones from one ear, giving the barrista a soft smile as he adjusted his glasses. He was certainly getting more confident at that, his english no longer broken, but flowing easily, albeit with his soft Kyoto accent, oddly contrasting the sometimes harsh drawl of the people around him. The walk to his department was quick, a few hundred feet from the metro station, by now the drums becoming almost white noise, like static across the sky, each drummer matching the other, faster and faster, a dervish dance of cymbal and bass and tom and...he pushed open the door, crossed the room, and tossed his coat over a chair.

 

At Winter [Number Five] was propped up on a canvas, the twin guitars of Pelican heralding its entrance, the beginning of his day. He'd begun sketching it, or the first one ([Number Six] was somewhere between sketchboom and canvas), around this time last year, the jutting glass and metal...like crystals, growing from a petri-dish. He'd been looking at a lot of Man Ray, shadowy figures, and reading Don Delillo, Blockhead's Downtown Science on the battered record player he'd half-carried from a friend's, across three metro lines. He'd fucked to that record a couple of times, feverish sex, whispers in Japanese answered with English, a husky Queens, then curled up with him and his conceptual art, cut-glass English girlfriend, wearing a dressing gown three times too big, and watched Allen's Manhattan. A film that caught, bottled and seemed to encapsulate the "being" of a New Yorker, like a firefly in a bottle.

 

But, back to the painting. Grey dominated the frame, but so many shades that it seemed merely faded, were it not for the far distant lights of taxi cabs. The scrapers loomed, but did not loom, blanketed, locked off from the black lines that scarred the front. Man built the scraper, but the scraper ruled him-only the power cables and the wiring were at a man's scale.

They'd been well recieved, so he'd read. "Interesting, bold and contemporary-A true depiction of New York's Glass Empire", one paper had read. He's trimmed the article out, and, with a handwritten translation, had sent it back to Kyoto, where his sister had told him his mother had mounted it on the wall. Not that they were ordinary...

The player flicked through the usual tracks, lunch passing in a blur of instant noodles and cooked vegetables. Soon it was time to go home, tired and paint spattered. He turned off the lights, and was about to go, when he spotted the note.

 

His own handwriting, a scribbled address, and a name. A painting. "From the Sixth Borough". Messy, half finished, he'd fucked about on it for far too long, taken a few half-arsed snapshots and chucked the thing at his usual go-between-he'd phoned back, that husky Queen's accent warm, relaxed despite the din around, and told him he'd found a buyer. A club, somewhere off the cheaper end of Broadway. Not exactly a gay bar, but getting there. Women frequented it, but for the men. Part of him was a little piqued; he loved people, new faces, sketchpads full of them. He never painted people much, but...Anyway. Time to get shot of this loving tribute to Mr Yauch. He picked up the canvas, and let the door click shut behind him.

 

Headphones.

Door. Door. Door. Turnstyle. Train. Change. Train. Change. Train. Turnstyle.

 

...Harmony.

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The time had flown, he did not even realise the time until his clock struck three and he glanced up from his guitar and notepad, hair unruly and a pair of reading glasses perched on the tip of his nose. Kaito blinked, his eyes lighting up in horror as he realised that he was not only late, but late, undressed and not at all ready for work this evening.

 

In a flurry of packing his gear, showering and taming his hair, the composer managed somehow to be out of the house in ten minutes; rushing had always given him organisation skills of steel, and he practically ran out the door, nearly knocking his guitar against the door frame on his way out. "Damn..." He murmured, shaking his head at himself. Kaito wasn't usually late, but he had been in such a mood, he had sat down to write, the sound of twinging strings in his ears and then-

 

Hours passed.

 

In the very least, he was glad he had an inner-city apartment, else he would probably be late. A few people turned their heads to gaze at the tall, ruffled man as he made his way down the street, his guitar slung across his back and his satchel over the other shoulder, with the rest of what he would probably need for the night, but...it all depended really. Coming up on Harmony, he slid into a backstreet, moving through the alleyway like a slinking cat towards the back entrance, knowing it would be unlocked for them.

 

Kaito, while he worked as a composer, knew it wasn't what was going to bring him any money the way things were going...he loved it, but his music was his own, it was personal, so, all the pieces he truly loved he kept locked away. No point in giving that away. So, he worked as a host. For men. In a club. Oh, how his parents would be so ashamed...their darling, beautiful little boy entertaining men?

 

Oh, the poor fools. They had no idea.

 

Kaito stepped through the back door, and Kaito walked down the corridor, but when he entered the main lounge, it was Ryuu that stepped out. Ryuu was his little alter-ego, practically exactly the same, except with a little bit more of his inner hidden...flair. Particularly the hidden flair' that had come from many a tryst with unknown faces in alleyways and parties over the years, as well as a number of bedrooms and surfaces. He ran a hand through his feathery hair, setting his stuff down by the bar and straightening his back, heading a slight crack. Obviously still not ready to be standing after so long sitting down in his living room.

 

"Sorry! I got caught up, but I'm here now. Sorry," Ryuu murmured, giving a small smile.

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Guest OkataShin

Warm rays of light filtered into the room through the bamboo blinds,falling on Seiji's peaceful face. Softly, his eyes fluttered open to face the empty office room around him,and his lips parted in a loud yawn. The breath caught in his throat as his limpid azure eyes fell upon the clock on the wall- 'shit'.With one swift movement, he was up from his bench, taking one glance at the mirror. His eyes were sleepy, looking like he had slept forever. Actually it was just the opposite. He had only took a 10 minute nap, but it took it's debt. After staying awake for 29 hours straight and accidentally lapsing for one, small nap, he looked like a zombie. He needed a good 12-hour sleep, but he didn't have such a good luck which would grant him one. He had work to do.

Seiji walked across the room swiftly and entered the bathroom. His target was the faucet. After a few times of getting a shock treatment made of cold water for his face, he looked like a human being again. If you didn't count the slightly drowsy look in his eyes, he looked perfectly normal actually. He didn't want his boss to see him all sleepy because he knew that it would only bring him tantalizing and riding. It would be a really pain in the ass to listen to all that teasing and still try to concentrate in working. After nodding in satisfaction to his reflection, Seiji made his way to the lounge.

The bartender was present, as well as one host. Seiji went to the bar-area and watched his surroundings curiously before making sure that "the coast was clear". The boss was nowhere to be found. "I hope you don't mind." He spoke to the bartender behind the counter and went to search through the bottles behind him. He took a bottle of Chateau de Bonhoste, Bordeaux Blanc and poured a small portion of his favourite white wine into a glass. He rarely drank white wine, because he preferred red over it, but this time he wanted to drink something which tasted more cheerful. He took a small sip of the wine and circulated it in his mouth, wanting all of his taste buds to get a hold of this joy. You could say that he was reckless for drinking during work time, but he had a good alcohol tolerance and he knew his limits. A small sip of wine here and another sip there was really nothing. He would remain sober.

Seiji turned his eyes to the boy who came in and was currently apologizing for his late appearance. "Ah it's fine. It's not like we opened yet." He said, nodding slightly and then he turned his gaze to the wine glass in his hands. "Not a word to the boss about this." Hes poke to the three people beside him, raising his glass a bit. Then he took a small sip of wine again, closing his eyes for a second. The taste was really making him feel a bit more energetic. Or at least that was the lie which he really tried to make himself buy as the reason for drinking wine.

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Brendan pushed his glasses up, and unconscious gesture of disapproval. He didn't like tardiness, nor did he like "drinking" on the job, though as a Host you were expected to drink something with your guests. Only the bartender knew that what he drank whilst he was entertaining wasn't alcoholic, skillful enough to make it look like he'd poured the drinks out of the same bottle. He raised an eyebrow as a flurry of activity occurred. Late again he thought to himself, but said nothing, just tilting his head slightly in acknowledgement and taking a sip of his drink. He checked his watch, it was nearly time that the club would be officially opened and he needed to be at the front door. He wasn't a greeter, his job was just to stand there and look "impressive".

 

He stood quietly, unfolding himself from his seat. The boss or someone would come and let him know if there were any private appointments for him. He adjusted his clothes, taking the earpiece out of his pocket and fitting it in. It was a delicate and unobtrusive looking thing; it allowed him to stay abreast of what was happening inside the club. He pressed in the side of one of his cufflinks, activating the small microphone within, murmuring quietly into it to test it. He gave a small smile, and tilted his head once more at those present. "Gentlemen" he said by way of parting, and walked up the stairs to the front door, unlocking it and stepping outside to take his place.

 

Club Harmony was open for business.

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Matthew made his way down the street away from his apartment. He wasn't bad off thanks to his job so his apartment was in a reasonably high security complex, biggest downside was it was quite a distance from the club. One of the best clubs for men around, but still a bit of a journey for him. He tended to walk the journey there, its what made it so far almost 40 minutes to walk but he hated public transport and he was planning on drinking so that removed driving as an option. He had yet to come across any trouble while walking there and he had been going for a while, worst he'd had was these girls trying to hit on him once. That wouldn't have been so bad if they actually dressed decently, but no they were in a horrible combination of greens and yellows that should never have seen the light of day.

 

Even the fact he was wearing make up never brought him any trouble, though there were quite a few clubs in the area so there were often strong men on each street, who would usually run and help him if he yelled loud enough probably hoping he'd go into the club if they helped him. No such Luck though, Harmony was the only club he was interested in. He rounded the corner onto the street that the club was on a smiled to himself as he saw a small queue already forming, this was where he got the most trouble for the night, there were always complaints as he walked straight past the line even though he never went straight in.

 

"Evening Pitmann" He didn't know the bouncer's full name and didn't expect to be told it, but he could still flirt with the man using the name he'd been given. It was almost a ritual now, he would lean against the wall next to the tall bouncer and try and wrangle his way in early. "How's the evening going for you?" His voice was light and flirtatious as he smiled at the taller man.

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Yosuke briefly glanced both ways before crossing the streets. The citizens could be in such a rush sometimes, that it was completely dangerous, if not murderous, to even be near the road. There were various occasions were the twenty-four year old was almost flattened like a pancake. All situations the same. When the online student was in a desperate need to get away from his parents. It was as if the gods were explaining that his life was meant to be filled with such occurrences. If that was the case, then what was the point if it all?

 

Countless sighs were released as the wind played and tussled at the blond locks. It was an action that the male didn't favor much, albeit it was unavoidable in the least. Well that or unless Yosuke decided to get his hair cut; which was almost like saying a Nun was willing to have sex. Silver eyes glanced around as he spotted a place that looked to attract his attention. It was a building that he had never entered, possible it was new. --No, it couldn't be. Construction work would have been noticeable. Yosuke said to himself, giving yet another sigh.

 

The student halted his steps as he watched the interactions between the two standing in the doorway to this --Harmony. A cackle was released as the blond shook his head at the two, mostly the one that was throwing flirty lines to the much masculine man. Giving a low groan, Yosuke rudely stepped between the two and pushed pass into the club, surely giving a nudge to Matthew. "Useless." The student whispered, eyes roaming for a secluded place to sit and finish his work.

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Brendan rolled his eyes as the youth rudely pushed past everyone to step in the club. He allowed him to survey the surroundings for a moment before reaching in and grabbing him by the collar, lifting him bodily off the ground with one hand, his muscles flexing under his suit jacket, and bringing him back outside to deposit him to the side of the queue. "Line up first." he said quietly, pushing his glasses back up his nose. He raised an eyebrow and managed to convey his distaste with a single look. "Rude" was all he said. He didn't need to say much, his size and presence usually enough to stop most in their tracks.

 

He waved a few more people through, already taking mental note of when the other had arrived, beckoning the "gaudy" looking character, Matthew he mentally reminded himself, who had been attempting to make small talk with him. He didn't mind the flirting, it actually gave him a little bit of practice for when he had to take on his private clients, but all who requested him knew that he wasn't one for idle compliments. "Your turn now" and motioned for him to go inside. The gaudy one chatted to him regularly and it had become a bit of a game between the two of them as to whether or not he'd let him into the club ahead of his place in the queue. So far Brendan hadn't caved in.

 

He eyed off the first youth, preparing himself in case he kicked up a fuss in front of the other patrons..

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It was noisier than he had expected. Crowds, and noisy ones at that, the din of expectancy, ebbing and flowing. He'd bought the headphones, as noise cancelling as possible, big things that easily covered his ears, and came with a suitable pricetag, not out of some dislike for human contact, but because he liked his music as close to a full stereo as possible. Not too much bass, not too much treble. Too much bass, and drums dominate the mix, too much treble and voice and guitar or piano take over.

He checked the note again. No name. That could complicate things, particularly as those bouncers seemed the typical New York stock-big guys, maybe ex or failed cops, occasionally ex-marines. Tattoos, shaven headed, built like a truck. Though it was difficult to see from here, with much taller people in front of him. Not exactly the sort of person you wanted to explain to, in slightly broken English, that you had a painting to deliver...On the other hand, this joint seemed a cut above the average club. Not exactly red carpet, but getting there...

 

He turned his attention to the building, the opening radio chatter of Godspeed You! Black Emperor's Mladic filling the space vacated by Neurosis. Oddly fitting. Tense. The club fascia wasn't bad, gaudy, a little too much neon lighting but suiting the place. Blade Runner LA by way of Neo Tokyo by way of early 20th century. Refined. Ageless. The building above it typical of this area, plain and oddly shapeless. Nothing distinctive. Possibly residential, possibly offices. Cheap enough rent that they could afford two or three floors, close enough that Broadway was a short walk. Certainly, they couldn't be that hard up if they could happily blow 2 big ones, as the slang went, he thought, on a student's painting. Sure, they could be smart, Saatchi tactics, buying low and selling high, but why exhibit it, threatening it with spilled booze and fistfight rips? That, or they...actually liked it?

 

He'd never been fond of "From the Sixth Borough". Ugly, monolithic. A slavish homage to Rothko, paint too thick, dark greys suggesting skyscraper upon skyscraper. Frustrated with the painting, he'd begun scraping off the paint here and there, leaving chunks of undercoat, a few patches of bare canvas, then scrawled across the grey in blood red "It Takes Time to Build", the title of a track from the Beastie Boys' To the 5 Boroughs. Effective. Thought provoking. Or a half-assed mess, one slavish homage on top of another. Still, stuff like this sold. Had sold.

He took a deep breath and pushed back the headphones, reaching in the baggy black greatcoat to switch the battered iPod off, then stepped into the crowd, hugging the small canvas to his chest.

 

In. Deliver it. Then out. This was hardly his sort of place anyway...

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Yuki walked to the middle of the office and asked “I’m here. What do you want to talk about sir?” Mr. IM turns around and gestured him to sit down. He complied and watched the man made his way and sit in front of him with one’s legs crossed. Mr. IM looked him in the eye with his piercing gaze and said “I heard some news about you” Yuki laugh, nervously “I guess it’s nothing I can help. After all, The Chasers got pretty famous nowadays” His boss cocked an eyebrow “I’m not talking about The Chasers; I’m talking about you and your flings. They’re pretty much spread in the field I heard” Yuki didn’t look at him. He’s staring the table in front of him with a blank expression.

 

This time Mr. IM sound a little softer and talk to him “You grew up under my very eyes. I understand how you must felt about the incident with your mother when you’re only a teenager. And when you said you want to be a singer, I supported you even though your father opposed the idea. I don’t want you to ruined your reputation when you’ve come this far. Since I took you into my agency, I have a responsibility for your well-being. I made a promise to Eiji that I take good care of you” Yuki didn’t utter a word. “I had inkling about your sexual orientation for long and I’m not judging you since we all have our own reasons. But if it’s going to affect the job and our reputation, I won’t accept that”

 

Yuki was rendered speechless. He knows it all too well. Mr. IM is his father's childhood friend and he’d been there during the times of their family crisis. Yuki wanted to become a singer but he doesn’t want to stay in Japan where he might bump into his mother and that husband of hers. That’s why Yuki was truly thankful for the man when he said he’s willing to give Yuki proper trainings in his agency in New York. And when Mr. IM decided that he can be a member of MARS new Idol group The Chasers, the man even hired a Japanese manager for his sake. Yuki has no reason whatsoever to refute him so he said “I understand sir. I’ll be careful from now on” Mr. IM gave him a serious look “Good, just don’t do anything reckless out there. Now go”

 

On the way back from his agency in his red Mustang GT, he can’t help but smile at how his boss knows him so well. Of course, he’ll be out playing if he can’t play in the field anymore. “I hope I won’t do anything reckless like you said, Uncle Isaac” he muttered to himself. “Now where should I go?” He doesn’t want to go somewhere full of chicks and people who might exaggerate his night out. So he decided to look for some other places that’s not too well-known but has a standard on its own. He was driving aimlessly when he spotted a club not so shiny but not so tedious. He decided to give it a try and parked his car not too far from the club. He put a cap on his head to avoid unnecessary stares from people and it seems like the queue is not long, he get in the line and walked into Harmony placidly.

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Ryuu gave a slightly cocky smile and shrugged his shoulders, before grabbing a quick glass of water, not wanting to upset the man. There was no way that he would dare report the man for drinking, that wasn't his style. He knew he would probably drink before the end of the night was over.

 

Taking up his gear, he headed over to the stage area, usually either inhabited by him or him. When he wasn't being requested to host people, he was on stage either performing or acting as their official DJ, practically because...it cut costs to not hire one, and Kaito actually knew what he was doing. He did however have a massive playlist as well that he could pop on whenever, as long as it was seamless. The club needed atmosphere after all. Ryuu didn't limit himself to one style when he performed; there were nights when he took requests, but he doubted tonight would be one of them. Occasionally he was allowed to get a band in to back him if he was going to do an all nighter, but...well. He didn't feel like it tonight. Kaito had made sure he was allowed to use all of his gear, which included track pedals and all of the little dodads that made performing streamlined. He actually loved messing with tracks, for someone who was originally trained in contempory music...

 

Just before opening, Ryuu moved to set up, addressing the idea that he would start off with a few playlist songs, before he got into a couple songs himself. He wasn't sure whether to go with remixes tonight from the current playlists or go a few years back and be a bit more loose, but either way, he would probably end up getting a little more slow towards morning. Either way...

 

A low beat started up, perfect for their atmosphere; easy for movement, easy for actually hearing conversation, down in some areas of the club, up in others. It all depended really...lots of things did.

 

He slipped off his jacket and ran a hand through his hair, unpacking his guitar and slinging it over his shoulder, eyeing the two other guitars he had here. He had an acoustic, and a bass that could turn electric leaning up against the wall, ready for play if he decided to, but the steel string in his hands could be perfectly fine for now. Ryuu looked down at the pedals at his feet and his tongue darted out to lick his lips as one hand turned to fade settings, his voice coming over the speakers in a low, husky murmur as he spoke to their customers, swinging his guitar behind his back.

 

"Good evening all, welcome to Harmony," he knew to cut off for a moment, as a few calls from the growing crowd began to sound; some were obviously repeat customers, they recognised his voice. Kaito gave a low chuckle into the mike, taking hold with one hand. They were so easy... "Ah, good to see you all here tonight. My name is Ryuu, I'll be one of your...entertainers for the evening, if you'll allow me." That got a few more calls from the crowd and he raised his other hand, giving a small smirk. "Sit back, and relax, our hosts are here to serve. Harmony wishes you a night to remember."

 

A quick tap to one of the pedals and the drums started up, and he stepped back from the mike for a moment to ready himself, licking his lips once more as the people started to dance. He stepped forward, low, almost dark vocals slipping through the speakers with a husky resonance, his words echoing through the club. It was a different sort of cover to the usual ones made of this song, it was closer to the original, not acoustic really, not with the drums they had...

 

"There's a drumming noise inside my head, that starts when you're around...I swear that you could hear it, it makes such an all mighty sound...There's a drumming noise inside my head, that throws me to the ground," he gave a chuckle here, causing a rise of a cry from the dance floor and he continued, "I swear that you should hear it, it makes such an all mighty sound!" Swinging his guitar around, he came back in, one foot moving over the pedals.

 

"Louder than sirens, louder than bells, sweeter than heaven...and hotter than hell." Kaito loved this; he loved performing, something he never really got to do otherwise, so he let go; he always made sure to put himself into it, to enjoy it, and that was seen. While it was still a show; he still had to be sexy, he still had to have a drawing influence on them...he could still glow just the way he knew he did...after all, the customers loved it. And, if they loved it enough, they could have it.

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Matthew didn't comment as the rude, blonde haired man tried to push passed him, merely looked at him with an amused look on his face, restraining a laugh as the bouncer picked up the lad and removing him from the club. When Pitmann had deposited the rude blonde and indicated for him to enter he pushed off the wall. Throwing a line over at the guy who was now stood in the queue. "Don't Judge people before you get to know them." He winked with a small laugh, "They can end up surprising you." With that he turned to head into the club pausing to talk to the bouncer. "Well Pitmann, been a lovely chat as always. I really think you should talk more though, maybe serve a few more guests in the club. Have a good night out here." Grinning he entered the club.

 

The atmosphere washed over him from the moment he entered the heart of the club and he licked his lips already enjoying being in the large room. It was an intense mix of heaven and hell for him in here, but there was just the right kind of heaven for him to ignore the hell.... mostly. He shivered in disgust as one guy walked past, way too much make up for his skin tone, he almost looked orange. The sight gave him a sudden urge to run to the toilets and check his own, paranoia born from experience, as everyone had to start somewhere with make up and orange tended to be the common place.

 

He emerged not much later fully satisfied that everything was in place and he looked just as good as when he left his apartment earlier that evening just in time to hear the end of one of Ryuu's songs, ah~ now that man had a good voice. He found a seat at the bar, not planning on drinking just yet, though he might get one early before there were too many crowds as he sat and listened to the music. All the staff here knew how to dress, and look good in their clothes. It made him happy to know there were people who could dress well, without the hell of aides and advisers, just men with good fashion.

 

Closing his eyes he listened to the music, it was still early so people had the energy to dance, later more of them would start sitting at the tables and bar. Matthew smiled, he didn't yet know if he was going to designate one of the hosts after all he was here to admire the well dressed men tonight.

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It was true that the blond was quite embarrassed at what happened, although he wouldn't let it bother him too much. Smoothing out the wrinkles in his shirt, silver orbs glanced up to stare sternly at the male who had commented toward him. That amused smirk that Yosuke hated so much, grazing his expression. A sigh was given as others were emitted into the club, the blond getting closer and closer to the entrance. Usually the student would have left, but the atmosphere really attracted him, and he wound give the club a try.

 

Now standing in front of the bouncer, the twenty-four year old stared to the man with no specific expression engraved on his face. It was true that he had started a fight, so he'd behave. --Dammit, I'm treating myself like a kid. Glaring to the ground as if it had offended him. So, it looked as if he had already made a bad impression. Now the broad, muscular male would think of him as a delinquent. That was a problem, and more stress that Yosuke did not want.

 

"Look, I apologize for the rude intrusion. I don't mean to cause any trouble." The blond spoke, waiting to see what Brendan would say.

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Brendan had wanted to sigh and roll his eyes. It wasn't like Matthew could talk about etiquette; he continued to refuse to line up, preferring instead to stand close to him and talk, leaving Brendan to keep track of his place in the queue. One of these days he was going to make the gaudy looking fop stand at the back of the line...

 

The youth had made his way to the back of the queue and lined up like he should have and eventually he was standing in front of him again. Brendan looked him up and down as the youth apologised to him; apparently he did have manners after all. He pushed his glasses up, his green eyes sparkling with amusement and the corners of his lips twitched slightly as if he was trying to smile. He nodded at the youth, "In" he said, gesturing with his hand, and allowed him to pass, before turning his stern gaze on the next patron.

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It’s been a while since he goes to this kind of club. The atmosphere here is more comfortable with spaciously designed classy interiors in compare to other crowded NYC places. And what’s more, there’s a live performance going on stage and people are dancing to Florence and the machine’s drumming sound. But the voice, that gravelly sexy voice caught his attention. Captivated by it, he moved closer to the stage, closer to the voice. "Louder than sirens, louder than bells, sweeter than heaven and hotter than hell" Moving closer, one hand in his pocket and the other hand rose to put his cap up a little to take a better look at that guy. Bluish hair flowing with the melody.

 

"As I move my feet towards your body, I can hear this beat it fills my head up, and gets louder and louder, it fills my head up and gets louder and louder" He can feel his heart beating through the drumming sound as he watched raptly at the aquamarine eyes and feels lost in their own fantasy. "I swallow the sound and it swallows me whole, till there's nothing left inside my soul, as empty as that beating drum, but the sound has just be-gun" ‘I wonder how his voice might be when he’s in bed.’ A playful little smirk appeared on his lips. What an irony. He told his boss he’d be careful with his choice but now the first thing that caught his eyes is a performer. Wishing the guy would notice his intense stares and he was sure to have a nice chat with him when this spellbound performance is over.

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The club was beginning to fill with people, some of the more regular customers he could see as well as some newer blood, and he relished in the sight of the people below, feeling their stares, feeling their eyes on his skin as he drew out the end, tearing his mouth from the mike as if it seemed to be painful for him to do so, licking his lips. Ryuu scanned the crowd as they gave cheers and demands for more, all he could do...well, it was his job wasn't it? To do as asked?

 

The drums from his song kept going seemingly as he kept the bass drum going, only a few pedals turning the controls around so he could fade in another song from the playlist, the heavy beat filling the room not one of the hardest yet, but still enough to keep the blood pumping in the room, the African-beat vocals of FERAL is Kinky filling the room, one of his personal favourites for club. Through the entry he gave a chuckle into the mike, turning a hand through his hair with another lick to his lips, feeling the eyes following every twitch of his mouth...

 

"Let's kick this up a bit, mmm? Get you all moving; I wanna see you move." A few more cries came from the floor and he spun his eyes over them, connecting with more than a few, before his darkened silver blue came to rest on icy blue and he took in the man's face, giving a small smirk in his direction, biting his lower lip between pearly teeth, humming a chuckle into the mike. "So move." He rumbled, before pulling back from the mike as the vocals started, causing the club to give a rise of movement, the beat infectious.

 

He pulled his guitar from his back, setting it down, and giving a quick check to the vocals before turning back towards the crowd, seeking anyone that would catch his eye as he moved to descend his little stairway.

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Matthew had left his stool abandoned, moving into the crowd of writing moving bodies. He was headed near the stage where usually the better dances collected, showing of the rest of the audience. It was also the best spot for admiring the band on stage, all of which needed to be able to play and look the part. He heard Ryuu's voice filling the room, telling people to move and dance and the crowd needed no further encouragement. Matthew didn't join in with the hypnotic movements of those that couldn't dance, nor the energetic ones of those that could. Instead he scanned the crowd, he knew Ryuu had started moving down from the stage, though as much as he loved the singers voice he wasn't quite his type.

 

A grinned spread across his face as he recognized one patron to the club. Well, What do you know. Someone will be in trouble if he's ever found out. The blonde was fairer than his own almost golden colour, with blue eyes rather than his own hazel. Some little singers should really learn to lay low sometimes. Not that Matthew had any intentions of telling the boy's manager, he just thought it might be a little fun to tease the boy and started to head over to him. Pausing moments later upon seeing the sole object of the young singers focus, ironically another singer, Ryuu.

 

With a laugh he closed the rest of the gap, resting his hands on Yuki's shoulders and leaning down to whisper in the boy's ear. "Well don't just stand there, someone else will grab him otherwise." Then with a light push towards Ryuu he turned and weaved back into the crowd, allowing his hands to glance over the arms of the good looking, skilled dancers as he moved passed them.

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Yosuke gave a slight nod before entering the club, eyes roaming around for a place to study. The harmonizing voices of the audience, plus the entertainer, was at least good enough for a nice welcoming. The blond stared to the one on stage for a moment before pursing his lips. --Well at least the place has good eye candy if nothing else. Not that something is wrong sith Harmony. No, not at all...just saying. Frowning lightly after noticing he was carrying along a conversation with himself. Maybe staying in the house too long with his parents had finally fucked his mind up.

 

Taking slow steps to a booth, the blond set his laptop onto the table, silver eyes once again glancing around the area. The place was striking, more than what Yosuke would think of a club. All seemed to be packed with kinky residents, if not whorish. --Ok that is so not accurate. Clubs, sometimes have pretty decent people. He informed himself, steadily observing the surroundings.

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As the crowd in front of him began to move into the club, he hugged the painting closer to his chest. Not fond of it as he was, he'd still rather it arrived in one piece...and the people walking in were so loud, too loud in fact, voices mixing in the air to produce one, overwhelming din. He pulled the headphones back on, took a deep breath and pressed play, as another group of people milled into the club, a couple, either too drunk, too cocky, or a mixture of both, liquid courage playing on already high bravado, pulled aside.

He hoped, as the opening chords of piano played, that he didn't flout whatever dresscode this place had-a tiny Japanese guy in a baggy green army coat, battered converse, ripped jeans and a well worn Radiohead t-shirt probably broke at least two rules. That and, this place probably had aesthetics as an entry requirement...

He didn't like clubs; loud noisy places filled with vacuous people, loud young professionals bragging about how many women they'd bedded the previous night, now returning like vultures to carry off more fresh meat, airheaded models walking about in bugger all, indentik heards. Outside, usually, like lions the usual flock of balding bearded photographers awaited celebrity cock-ups. A veritable savannah in the streets of the Big Apple. The ambience about this place was different, but the rules were the same. It was odd ho-

 

A gentle push in his back, and he looked up to notice the queue in front of him was gone, and an expectant looking bouncer was peering curiously at him. He pushed down the headphones, paused his player, and took a few quick steps towards the man, anxiety growing...

"Um...I have...um...something to deliver to the...manager, I think? Name is..."

He held up the canvas, address side up. "Mr...Hamasaki Takeshi...I think? That's...the name I was given..."

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