Whiskey, Strobe Lights, Headaches

[Axel Jonasen]

A xel looked out across the dance floor passively. The DJ for the night was playing some pretty good music, but Axel didn't feel like dancing. He felt like drinking. It was one of his nights off, which he didn't give himself very often. Being your own boss was supposed to come with perks like taking needed rests and holidays-- at least, that's what his half-sister Karoline had told him in their last phone call. She didn't know completely what he did for a living, that is, running a drug ring that was getting pretty big, but her advice was offered in love. The whiskey in his hand was running out. He was drinking much faster than he usually did. That was fine. He didn't have any product on him. Absolutely nothing. No weed, no coke, no mushrooms... Nothing. The worst thing that could happen would be losing some cash, and he always had cash to burn. He took another sip from his drink, squinting slightly as the strobe lights in the club started going off. Of course, he could always go home. That was an option. Unless something more interesting presented itself soon. OPEN TAG:

credit to nat of adoxography.

[Oscar Ortega]

Oscar walked up to the entrance of the club, looking interested but hesitant. He had been living with Arcadio for about a week and decided to get a little more cultured in the American way. His cousin even encouraged him to go out there and meet people. It would be difficult, sure, but Oscar was open to it. Though he wasn't sure how any conversation would go, nor what he was even looking for. Hell, if he found a pretty girl he might even be inclined to take her home. Anything was possible.

But the drinking. Oscar worked hard in rehab and to stay clean for all these years. But what would one beer hurt? The justification helped him to make a decision. With reserve, he walked through the door and into the club.

The music was loud, the bass shook him to the core. This was not the usual music he was use to listening to in the club. How could you salsa to this? Oscar just huffed to himself and clomped his way to the bar. He gently pushed people aside to make it to the front of the line. He had to shout to the bartender if he had any hope of getting a drink "Dark beer, my friend. Any of your liking." 

Oscar waited for his drink to be delivered to him, turning his head to look at the dancefloor that was packed with women in short skirts and men grinding up against them. American men... they did not try to be subtle or romantic about what they wanted, did they?

[Axel Jonasen]

Axel looked over at the man who had come up to the bar beside him. His eyes flicked to the beer that the bartender was passing over, and then flicked to the man's face. He froze, and felt his heart beat stop before quickening. Confusion also shot into his head, and he momentarily felt dizzy. What was this? His hand went to his chest for a second, but he dropped it quickly. This man was beautiful. And that's what was so astounding. Axel had never felt like this before. Not that he had ever felt much, ever. His roommate (friendgirlfriendpartnerfuturewi--) Tori always bugged him about not showing his emotions or feeling them properly, but he never really told her that it wasn't an issue of opening up. It was an issue of simply not feeling. He always brushed it off to her as being stoned all the time. Which wasn't true, he was actually rarely high or stoned.

Either way. This. This hit him like a punch to the stomach. Axel needed to have this man.

"Hey," Axel said, keeping his voice smooth. "I haven't seen you here before. New in town?"

He knew the question was innocent, but he had a moment of panic that it was to intrusive or too weird. Not that Axel had no experience flirting. Despite being disinterested in sex, he was fairly popular amongst men and women and never had a problem finding someone to take to bed if he ever felt compelled. But his palms were sweating.

And his headache was gone.

[Oscar Ortega]

Oscar placed an American $10 on the bar before turning to the man who was speaking to him. Looking the guy up and down, he began assessing him, taking a sip from the lip of the bottle. That was good stuff. Guiness, was it? Oscar would have to remember that one. Unlike the Guiness, the man was not dark and he wasn't smooth like the crema on the top. But he was someone who was full bodied of both knowledge and intent. Oscar only knew this because the man before him looked like the rough type he encountered in Colombia. The man probably dealt, was a pimp, or maybe just a sad alcoholic like he use to be. But the man didn't have the same look in his eyes that Oscar so often saw in himself. 

"Yes. I'm new. Straight from Colombia." He took another sip of beer, accent thick but English practiced. "You're a regular here. No problem, I don't mean to be here much at all. First time, maybe last." Oscar gave Axel a suspicious look, wondering if his assumptions were correct. Was this man in a bad business? And did Oscar really want to associate with a man like this? He did run away from Colomubia, hoping that there would be a life change for him in America. And now he was approached by a guy like this. Was it Oscar's aura that brought this type to him? Oscar was going to have to be careful to not follow down the same path. But what was the meaning of careful?

[Axel Jonasen]

The man had his guard up. Axel could appreciate that. He also kept his guard up. Of course, his mutation, being able to have premonitions, helped with that. The man's thick accent only drew Axel closer. His own accent had faded a bit over the years, but he knew what it was like to come to a new country and have no community, no support. Axel took a slow, deep breath to calm his nerves, but masked it by sipping his whiskey. "This is a pretty good place for a beer," Axel said casually. "If you like to party, there's another club a couple blocks over. I like to come here to unwind."

Axel finished his whiskey and, without looking away from the man across from him, motioned at the bartender for another. Like practically everywhere Axel went, his presence carried a lot of weight. The bartenders and bouncers knew who he was, and knew he had a lot of cash and influence. He could usually buy whatever he wanted. But something in the back of his head told him that he couldn't buy this man.

"What brought you from Colombia?" Axel asked, surprised that he was genuinely curious about the stranger. People didn't often interest him at all. Why was this man so intriguing? The swirling emotions were keeping him on high alert, but he managed to keep it all in check. "I'm Axel, by the way. Axel Jonasen."

[Oscar Ortega]

Oscar didn't speak for a while. To buy his time, he picked up his beer and drank it. He took no breaks, but didn't down his beer either. Drawing a mouthful of beer in his mouth, he would swallow it before slowly refilling his mouth with beer. It was smooth and delicious. Once it was done, he placed the glass on the counter and, without looking away from Axel, asked for a second. He finally licked the foam from his lips and stretched up straight, adding height and width over Axel in a defensive stance.

"Axel. My name is Oscar. And I don't party." Wrong. Lies. Oscar could dance like no one else, and he was famous for throwing parties back in Columbia. Parties were his specialty when it came to dealing, or gaining loyalty or clientele. But that wasn't his life anymore. He wanted to stay away from drugs as much as he could. He didn't go to rehab for a year just to throw his life away again.

"You could say I wanted a new beginning. America has opportunities Colombia couldn't give me."

[Axel Jonasen]

Axel was almost taken aback by Oscar's bluntness, which broke him away from being terribly distracted by watched Oscar drink beer. He mentally chided himself for it. Oscar's attitude radianted dominance, and Axel could feel his senses heightening. If he didn't watch out, this could end messily. His mutation had never lead him astray.

He quickly switched gears, not wanting to lose the attention of this man who had caught his eye. It was a rare occasion that anyone would interest Axel. He shifted his weight to his back foot, and leaned on the bar top. His body language was fluid and relaxed, hopefully showing that Axel was no threat. "Colombia. I'm from Germany, myself." He added an upward inflection in his tone, something that usually wasn't there. He usually a completely flat monotone, but that was often interpreted as aggressive. He didn't want to appear aggressive.

"Can I buy you another beer?"

[Oscar Ortega]

Oscar watched closely as Axel's body relaxed into the counter. It made him feel more at ease knowing that Axel didn't read him as someone who was part of whatever business he was in. Hesitantly, Oscar let his body relax and he dropped his guard a little. The man was being friendly and appeared to just want to chat. For now.

"Germany? A brother in foreign lands. You sound like you've been here awhile." He thought he heard an accent, but Oscar's worldly knowledge generally didn't allow him to recognize much. He knew various accents from travellors or foreigners to Colombia, but he never encountered anyone from Germany. And foreign TV was never his thing.

Oscar contemplated Axel's offer before finally nodding his head. "Sure. Another beer would be good... And then you can answer me: why did you leave your home? Why choose America?"

[Axel Jonasen]

Axel motioned at the bartender for fresh drinks without looking behind him. He paid for them both as soon as they were delivered, tipping the bartender directly instead of putting it in the communal tip jar. Healthy competition for better service never hurt anyone, right? Plus, Axel wasn't about to show Oscar how much he had tipped. Usually, he flashed his money as a sign of power but he suspected that it wouldn't fly with Oscar.

Oscar's question was an interesting one. Well, he had to admit that it wasn't actually an interesting question; what made it interesting was that Oscar was asking him. No one asked Axel anything about his past. He wasn't usually willing to give up the information anyway.

But, he saw Oscar's body relax and become less threatening. The buzzing in his head subsided. Why not reward that tiny token of burgeoning trust with some truth? "I moved to America with my father when I was a child. I've lived in the US for some time."

He sipped his drink, whisky, and looked Oscar up and down again, appreciating the man's build. "When did you say you arrived?"

[Oscar Ortega]

Oscar thanked Axel and the bartender quickly as the beer was placed in front of him. He put his hand around the glass, questioning his decision to have another. This was his third. And he told himself sternly that it would be his last. He had to go home to Arcadio eventually, and he didn't want to show up smelling like alcohol. Though the Ortega was refusing to say it out loud, he was worried for his cousin. Oscar didn't like seeing how heavily he was drinking. Thought it was no secret that Arcadio was heavy on the bottle, Oscar never had to see it first hand. Maybe he would bring up rehab in the future...

Oscar gave his head a shake and took a sip, glancing at Axel with the corner of his eye. "I see. You've been here all your life? I arrived 7 days ago. I have no complaints so far. Except..." Oscar moved to face Axel, eyes narrowed and finger waving in a disapproval manner, "The cigarettes. They are not as good as I like. They have a... off taste."

Speaking of cigarettes, he was beginning to crave one about now. Taking two big gulps of his beer, he gave a heavy sigh. "Do you smoke?"

[Axel Jonasen]

"I do, sometimes," Axel admitted. He smoked cigarettes occasionally. He smoked weed more. But he felt that Oscar was looking for something heavier.

Smoking cigarettes at a bar almost didn't count as smoking in Axel's mind. He did it so infrequently. Maybe Oscar was the same. Axel suddenly pictured the other man with a cigar in his mouth, tousled hair, and a smirk on his face. At the mental image, Axel's neck prickled with sweat and his chest felt tight. This was so foreign to him, so strange. He had never felt--well, this had to be attraction. He had never felt something like it before.

Keeping his face neutral, which was more of a struggle than he cared to admit, Axel asked, "Are you more of a cigar man?"