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Posted: Tue May 06, 2014 3:20 pm
butterfingercrunch Not sure what else I can do here until you intro I cannot know what you see if you do not show anything…Thump. Thump, Thump, Thumpity-thump, the beats in of music meant to be played loudly vibrated the walls of classy underground night club. LED lights rotated every minute or so in the awe inspiring fish tank that made the ceiling of the dance floor, different colors washing over patrons that paid damned well earned cash to dance out their worries in a drunken wave. Considering that he'd just spent the whole week dancing for a stage of hundreds, one would think that Misha had met his fill of it but it was one thing to dance for others and another to dance for himself. To be free with it and improvise the way he wanted to with the music, it always took the edge off of the "job" and pumped some passion back into it even if he did lose it most mornings along with the contents of his stomach in hungover depressions. At least he was happy right now. Seven long necked beers in with a sick beat that spoke to him and Misha had already dominated center stage of this club's crowded dance floor. Others tried and failed miserably to keep up with his fluid grace and skilled enthusiasm but Misha may as well have been wearing head phones dancing alone because he wasn't paying attention. None of the plain faced amateurs around him were worthy enough to catch the eye of Europe's beloved pet...but this wasn't Europe was it? No he stuck in uncultured America having to fight for what he'd already earned because none of these morons knew talent when they saw it. If it was a snake it would have bit them. Alas, Misha didn't make the rules. All he could do was shut up and dance away his frustration...unless he could get a couple more beers in him and find someone at least half decent to keep him company for the night.
…I cannot know how you feel when you do not say anything
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Posted: Tue May 06, 2014 4:11 pm
M1DN1GHT_V10L3T Okay! Tell me what you think of the format and stuff?  Aiden Faye Aiden walks into the bar and slides into his usual seat, giving the bartender a smile as he asks for his usual. His tall, thin figure and famous face draws stares from around the room, all of which he ignores. It was boring, really. He wanted to try something new. He looks at his rings, letting the light of the room slide across the smooth platinum bands as he waits for his drink. The glass is passed to him and he thanks the man with a smile and a heavy tip.
After a moment of watching, Aiden gets up from his seat and leans against the bar, his glass in hand as he keeps his eyes trained on the one person who stands out in the room. The dancing was exceptional, on par if not better than the dancing of some of his friends. And he knew that face. Misha Pellzchoff. A small smile slides across his lips. He knew who he wanted that night. He hands his glass to a worker and joins the mass of moving bodies, his long association with professional dancers showing as he too begins to move to the heavy beat of the music.
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Posted: Wed May 07, 2014 7:04 pm
butterfingercrunch I understand it's a little abstract. If you need more I can work on it. I cannot know what you see if you do not show anything…Honest, Misha made no secret that he was only attentive enough to the other people so as not to bump into them. Arrogance was tiring contrary to popular belief so he dropped it if only by pretending the other people didn't exist. He was pulled off his lofty high horse however when one of the peasants surrounding his kinglyness decided to do his dancing a little to close for Misha's temper. Brilliant blue contacts gleamed murder at the intruder, softening instantly as that lovely blonde visage graced his standards. Tight fashion forward clothing, couture, a cute face that held a sense of familiarity despite being a stranger, eyes that ached to share a secret and never would, but above all - beyond even the delirium of his boose addled brain - the person vying for Misha's attention knew how to move his body. The slim limbed creature couldn't possibly be another professional dancer and yet he had knowledge of motion, the magic of segmented angles and how to attune himself to light. From the perfectly waving strands of white gold hair to the shape of his hands, the artful flow of lines that drew the eye down and back up again, it showed a man that was not only used to being looked at but demanded center stage.
Misha didn't know what to make of him. Was he comrade or intruder? Surly this pretty face wasn't trying to show him up at his own game?! Hells no! Not tonight sir! Misha pulled the stops and made his own motions leaner, tighter, and adjusted his timing with the beat for an even more impressive display that put a ripple in the floor that called for those lesser patrons to vacate and stare. Why did this crap always happen? No matter where he went it was always a damned competition for to maintain what he'd already accomplished. Yet even as he compared himself to this stunning thing engaging him he couldn't deny the urge to display dominance in a more primal way. The feverish need born of alcohol and desire spread in his chest and down to his belly, the adrenaline giving it wings. Ignore it all he wanted, there would soon be no hiding it at all.
…I cannot know how you feel when you do not say anything
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Posted: Thu May 08, 2014 1:32 am
 Aiden Faye Aiden smiles to himself when he notices Misha bringing up his game. He watches, ignoring everyone else as his eyes take in the sight. He makes eye contact and smiles a sly, sexy smile but doesn't come closer. He usually never made the first move, so that he had even made eye contact was a huge nod of approval for Misha. He makes sure that the interest is in his eyes as he walks towards and around the man on his way off the dance floor.
He grabs a beer and leaves the invitation open to interpretation. If he couldn't get the dancer, then he could always find another one, but he wants him. He waits, not about to bother making a move if he was going to be, potentially, rejected, but sensing that the man on the dance floor would join him all the same.
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Posted: Thu May 08, 2014 6:45 pm
butterfingercrunch IDK what i'm talking about anymore. I write Method and Misha's drunk is making me drunk. I cannot know what you see if you do not show anything…Misha caught that glance, the color and message intensified by the delirum. As the song ended and semi-seconds crawled before the next would start, he found himself paralyzed by an internal struggle of social protocol. His impulse was brutish but could also be viewed as openly romantic, even deepening the mood for this creature of prey wagging steak at a predator. It could also very well get him arrested if things didn't happen the way he thought they just happened or the message was misinterpreted. What to do, follow the norm or indulge his aggression?
He needed another drink to decide. He followed along on the same path his interest had carved through the patrons, but separated himself from his shadow to find an opening at the bar to place an order. "Beer," He shouted at the servant on the other side just loud enough to be heard, the residual Ukrainian Accent he'd learned from his parents bleeding into his English, and slide the same amount of money he had been paying all night for the same thing.
The Bartender had been paying attention to Misha this time, noticing him as a regular and a bit of a violent drunk when he'd had one too many. This would be make eight and the threshold was usually 9 if he'd had a good day. Time to start cutting him off, however, the bartender didn't want the night's number to set him off being 7. Figuring he was drunk enough to let go of a mistake, the Bartender tried to trick him, "Sorry, Not enough."
Bad call, "Bullshit, the price for beer here is five a bottle. I only brought five's."
Knowing he was caught, the bartender let it go and exchanged the bill for a bottle grudgingly. Misha took a hard swig staring at his quarry on the other end of the bar. Hmf, ******** it, he could chance a night in jail. Smirking as he rolled his eyes over the thought and getting up, Misha held onto his bottle. It didn't take many steps to return to the creature's side, he even saw Misha coming. He might not have seen the next part coming though. Who would? Misha slipped in close with his arm around this beautiful stranger's hip, then bent and shoved his shoulder into his stomach to hoist him up off his feet! Drawing cheers, laughs, and looks of concern, Misha started to walk to the exit with poor Aiden draping off him caveman style!
…I cannot know how you feel when you do not say anything
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Posted: Fri May 09, 2014 1:23 am
M1DN1GHT_V10L3T Haha okay! btw, are they headed to a hotel, Misha's place, or potentially Aiden's?  Aiden Faye Aiden watches as Misha follows his path before veering off to grab a beer. He's a little disappointed. He had thought the message was clear, but apparently not. He's about to get up and go, done for the night, when the man comes back towards him. He's lifted into the air like a sack of flour, something he did not appreciate. When had he given the slightest hint that this was okay? Flirting, maybe, but being carried like an object?
"What do you think you're doing?" He demands, somehow still managing to sound dignified despite his position. He didn't feel humiliated or anything, not really. He simply hated being treated like an object. And this man, this very clearly drunk man, had the audacity to do just that. A stranger. He straightens so that he's less of a sack and more like a human being, ducking under the doorway as they pass under it, leading to the outside world. He wraps his arms around the man's shoulders and lowers himself to the ground. "You know, all you had to do was ask." He says. He ignores the rest of the world, the busy rush of the people on the streets, the stares, none of it really mattered to him. He was used to stares, and those who paid no attention to him usually meant nothing to him as well.
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