Find a Few Good Strangers, Start a Band (IC, Closed)

[Euro-Trash]

"Perfect Start! But, Where's it at? And How Many Songs Do Bands Need to Perform in this Thing? Because so Far We Only Know One with Some Crappy Lyrics..."

[The Fanboyists]

"Oh, 'bout two or three songs. I think we can whip up a few, won't be great, probably won't win, but we'll get some exposure, at least."

[Aima Tomeis]

"Yeah, but more importantly we get to ROCK!" Chad enthusiastically thrusts his guitar in the air, nearly taking out his two compatriots. "Ooh... sorry mates. Anyway, sounds good, where do we register?"

[The Fanboyists]

(OOC: Sorry I didn't post over the past few days; lost power, then there was the Big Game. Grats Saints!)

IC:

"Oh, its 'round the corner here. It's bein' held in a repossessed warehouse." He pointed the way. He led them around the corner, pointing to a refurbished, large building, where a line was already forming.

[Aima Tomeis]

OOC:
No worries! 'Twas a great game.

IC:
"I can't believe my luck! Signing up last minute for the Battle of the Bands, with a gang I've never met. I love rock and roll!" Chad unslings his guitar and strums away, passing time to get to the front of the line.

[The Fanboyists]

As they waited, Art realized that there was a good chance of there not being any spots left. So he pulled some strings.

Not literally. But figuratively. He pushed his way to the front of the line, drawing icy glares from those around him. He elbowed his way past a particularly truculent drummer ("Oh, sorry Dave," he growled at him, grinning) and to the desk heading off the queue. He looked at the woman manning the booth, deliberately turning on the 'creepiness' on full blast; the sight of a disheveled, beareded man was usually not kind to a growing young lady, and they'd twist and turn to make him go away, if he tried. Art was wierd like that; incredibly pleasant most of the time, downright irritating or unnerving when he wanted to be. He looked sort of like a hobo in his current state.

"Hey, sexy. I know you wanna give me a spot." The woman glared at him, obviously trying to compose herself and avoid saying something she might regret.

"What?"

"A spot. In the band's battle."

"No." She intensified the glare.

"Please? Wouldn't you do it for me, babe?"

"No!"

"C'mon, hon, I could give you a real good time to go with it." He gave a practiced, leering smirk. He hoped his band-mates wouldn't get the wrong idea from this.

"Why?"

He leaned in, making sure nobody could tell what he was actually saying apart from the college student. "I'm not going to go away unless you give me and my buddies a spot here."

"Is that a threat?" she muttered.

"If you wanna take it that way, sure."

The venom in her entire face was palpable now. "Fine. But nobody hears about it, clear?"

"Transparently." He stepped back, satisfied that his work was done.

He tapped Chad on the shoulder. "Done wit' that. Let's go practice." He gestured over to a bar a few blocks distant. "I got a buddy who'll let us use the stage in his pub to practice. Even get tips for it, so we can get dinner later tonight. Love rock as much as the next man, but a guy's gotta eat, eh?"

[Euro-Trash]

While Art Lead the Group to the Pub, the Next Stage on Their Adventure to Create a Band in an Hour, Chris Wondered What Art Had Done to Get that Spot...

"Hey, Art! What'd You Do Back There? To Get Us the Gig?"

[The Fanboyists]

Art looked distinctly uncomfortable. He rallied, grinning. "Natural charm. If you do things right, girls will pay you to let them beat you off with a stick." He whispered next, adding: "In other words, I bothered her and refused to leave until she gave us the gig." He winked.

At this point, they reached the pub, and he elbowed the door open incautiously, letting them in from the snow-covered streets outside.

"Hey, Rick!"

An orange-haired, glasses-wearing man, probably in his mid-thirties appeared, as the three people at the bar, and the four in the resturant itself, turned to look.

"Art, buddy! How are ya?!"

"Not bad. Hey, can we use your place to practice? Its sort of urgent."

"Sure. Set up. I'll get...ah, Carrie!"

"Yes?" a bus-girl asked, looking over.

"Can you start getting the amps out? I'll get over and help ya in a second."

"Yes, Mr. Michaelson." She ran into a back room and appeared carrying a small amp, as Art propped his base against a wall on a low stage, and bolted into the room to pick up another one.

[Euro-Trash]

Chris Waited for the Lovely Waitress to Bring Out the Microphone from a Back-Room Chris Couldn't Quite Locate in the Busy Environment of the Pub. After the Equipment was Brought Out, Chris Began to Flirt with the Waitress, Hoping to Perhaps Procure a Spot to Sleep at Tonight. Not Necessarily with the Beauty, Though it Certainty Would be a Plus. He Somewhat Cornered Her Near the Bar of the Pub, Though She Didn't Seem to Mind the Fact...

"So, I Gotta Ask. What's a Beautiful Young Girl Like Yourself End Up Working Here?"

[The Fanboyists]

She shrugged. "College. It's not great, but Rick pays pretty well, even by resturant and pub standards. Says we deserve it as often as guys try to flirt with us." She partially confused his intentions then. "And in case you were wondering, I'm saving myself for marriage. Art's already tried this. He's probably made an advance to every waitress here, and possibly to Rick too, although I'm pretty sure he was just joking that time."

Art hauled out another amp, dropping it on the stage with a satisfying *thud*, and he picked up his bass and plugged it in. There were more than enough for everyone.

"Alrighty. Y'all ready to rock?"

[Euro-Trash]

OOC: Alright? You Didn't Have to RP as the Waitress, but I am Thankful You Are Doing SO for Me!

Chris, Somewhat off After the Loud Amplification System Hit the Floor with an Immense Noise that Echoed Throughout the Pub, was Surprised to find the Waitress was Extremely Quick to Figure Him Out. He Needed to Make a Recovery in Order to Spend the Night...

"I'm Sorry? No, I'm Not Trying to Get in Your Pants. And Yes, I Know Saying that Makes it Sound Even More Like I'm Trying to Get in Your Pants. But I'm Serious! I Just to See What You Were Doing Here and if You Would Be..."

Chris was Cut-off in the Middle of the Thought by Art's Lusty Yell of "Alright. Y'all Ready to Rock!?" However, Before Leaving the Waitress and Not Finishing the Thought, He Figured to Finish Asking Her on a Date that Evening.

'Where was I? Right. I Was Just Wondering if You Were Doing Anything Tonight? I Wanna See this City and I Imagine You Know the City as Well as Anyone, Maybe Better than Art Here. What Do You Say?"

[The Fanboyists]

She nodded. "It's alright. I know not all guys are complete scoundrels," she said, winking. "I'm not actually doing anything tonight, so I'd be happy to show you around." She laughed. "'Course I know it better than him. He's just a frequent visitor. He's a Northwatcher. I, on the other hand, actually live here."

Art gestured. "Everyone ready to try and put something together?"

[Euro-Trash]

Chris, Quite Excited by the 'Date' in the Evening, Rattled off a Quick Statement Before Retreating to the Stage...

"Alright, Sweet! And, to Prove I'm not the Stereotype, Get-in-Your-Pants Type of Guy, I'm Not Going to Attempt to Read Between the Lines and Assume this is a Date. We'll Go After the Battle of the Bands!"

Chris Quickly Ran to the Stage. In the Haste of Getting to Flirt, Chris Hadn't Gotten to Tuning his Guitar and do the Signature 'Mike-Check'. He Jog to the Stage and Jumped onto the Elevated Platform. He Quickly Grabbed the Acoustic in the Guitar Rack, Did a Ramshackle Job of Tuning, and Did a Quick "1-2, 1-2..." into the Ancient Microphone Set on the Stage.

"Alright Pub Goers, We're the Uh... What'd We Agree on? A Few Good Strangers! We're a Few Good Strangers. OK, uh... A 1-2-3-4!"