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The club was hoppin' and boppin' and all those excessive words that make you uncool to say.. but when you're a wankster with antlers, the world is yours to conquer. Even if it just spits in your face when you try.

Dressed to impress, Taig busts out his best moves on this one chick with purple hair, who promptly turns up her nose and moves along to the next crowd. It doesn't discourage the deer, however. He just slides along to the next girl. His, er, "charm" seems to have faded slightly without his best bud and sidekick around to play wingman, but damn, nothing is keeping this guy from his game. Not even skill.

Panting and slightly sweaty, Taig stumbles up to the bar and hits his hand down to get the attention of the bartender. The man raises an eyebrow at Taig, his hands busy cleaning out a glass, else he'd probably be flipping the boy the bird. Instead, it buys the p***k a bit of time for the bartender to regain some tact.

"I'm serving the pretty lady first, boy. Waitcher turn."

He turns to Ranza, and gives a slightly creepy, toothy smile. "Now. What can I getcha, sweetie?"

Not realizing what just happened, beyond his coolness factor suffering a sly blow, Taig straightens up and takes to the barstool next to Ranza. Even better, she starts to talk to him. He clears his throat, but doesn't completely get rid of that teenage voice for the first couple words that come out of his mouth.

"Oh, yeah, you know, lots of remixes they make sound tight for the dance floor. I'm there, so long's it has a beat I can dig." He nods at the end of his sentence, reaffirming his own statement somehow. He leans on the bar on one elbow, tilting his head and, forgetting the height of his antlers, barely misses the stooping overhang over the bar. He notices none of this.

"I dunno, I'd think I'd remember a face as pretty as yours. But I'm flattered you recognize me. Must be from another party..?"

Ranza's drink is served up, and the bartender waits expectantly for Taig to order something. The deer teen is caught off guard, and orders a red bull and vodka. The older man rubs his fingers together to indicate he wants money up front, as he's clearly suspicious of the man, but isn't feeling obligated to ruin the kid's night by asking for ID.

Taig fumbles for his wallet, and pulls out a twenty, which, before he can ask if it can be broken, is plucked from his hands without a word from that bartender. His mouth hangs open a little as he watches the man throw the money in the till without producing any change.. and he's not about to beg for that small change back. He's at least wise enough to realize this, thankfully.

Taig almost chokes on his drink at the name.

Can it really be..? He shakes his head a little as he sets down his drink, then straightens up. With a slight advantage such as this, he decides to play it at a rather evil level.

"You know, you're quite the lady," he remarks with an up-down glance out of the corner of his eye, smiling just enough to hopefully seem charming instead of creepy (but this is a guy who's been rejected so many times that he's just happy to be talking to one for this long). "And your hair reminds me of, mmm- lemme place it, what'sser name, Medula? No, Tia! Tia Dalma, from those pirate movies!"

He takes a generous sip of his red bull and vodka, and in a playful motion, swings around in his chair to fully face Ranza; he actually manages to complete the motion by landing his elbow on the bar and his chin in his palm, looking quite.. smug? Or is it just a flirting glance?

"You can call me Tai," he states lowly, continuing the smile.

"Dreads, right. I like'm on you," he states with a nod, finishing off his drink with a distracted sip. He shakes the glass, surprised to have finished so quickly.

He sits up slowly from his chin-palm-elbow pose, though his ears perk up rather quickly at the mention of his.. species? Being rather proud of what he is, he indulges her in a spiel he's no doubt used before.

"Yeah, I'm part deer. Prolly some sort of strong, beefy type, too, judgin' from it. Got the best of both worlds, I'd say - charming good looks of a human, and just enough beast to keep me goin' longer and stronger, babe."

A man, drinking alone nearby, cringes as he overhears Taig's horrid line, and feels slightly sorry for the lad, knowing he undoubtedly won't get any with lines like that.

"Nah," Taig replies hastily, shooting a glance over his shoulder. He speaks quickly about how the DJ will likely play some more nostalgic tunes near the end of the night to drive out the younger crowds, and that the crew to the left of the club usually dictates the unofficial end of the night in whether they've left with a gal or two, and most of them aren't to be found.

All in all, it seems he might hit up this scene a little too often to know the code, but he runs over it rapidly and sort of brushes off where he might fit in the mix.

He stands up and stretches a little, his shoulder giving a little satisfying pop as he does. (Boy really doesn't know how to act around a lady..) "You wanna split?"

Taig raises an eyebrow. "A boat? I like your style."

The bodily contact that she initiates thrills him into a lopsided grin, which he aims down at her in the new lighting of the night. "You a real pirate, then? Ship and all? I'd thought it was just a club get-up."

Taig is stunned, to say the least. If I'll let her? He's struck ******** yeah, I will!"

He's stuck now with with a permanent grin, making haste toward the marina with her. He's gonna get lucky! He can't believe it! And this chick's hot, too, it isn't even the alcohol speaking (at least on his half)!