failbhe

[failbhe]

Watching the other closely as he fished his ID out, Cían took it from him with a chipper smile and studied it closely, his gaze darting back and forth between the photograph and the man himself. Flipping it over a couple of times, the hellhound shrugged and handed it back without fuss but made no attempt to move just yet. “Whoever turned you turned you just in time, Henry. Baby faces get you outta a whole lot of trouble if you play your cards right. Or so I’ve heard, wouldn’t know myself.” After a beat, Cían stepped closer to study the vampire further, leaving just enough space for the other to not feel as if all his personal space had been taken up. “One last thing before I let you in– you’re gonna be on your best behaviour in there tonight, right? It’d be a real shame to have to mess up that pretty face of yours.”

Juggling between council duties and his business had been quite hectic recently. To loosen up a bit, the man needed alcohol on his system. At times, he did dress casually like normal folks, leaving the formal attire his fellow council colleagues usually wore. Back in Korea he partied hard in between to destress and it made sense why he wasn’t easily recognized which was the purpose of the whole thing. One thing he noticed was how uneasy guys could be when they realize who he was. “Oh shit, one sec.” He smirked, well he didn’t party without a fake id even if he technically didn’t need one. He pulled one out from his pocket. “I swear I’m old enough to drink alcohol.” He said and showed him an ID named Henry Lee. “See?” He chuckled. “It’s the baby face I’m sure but don’t be fooled.” He winked.

[failbhe]

“No? What’s brought you back?” Cían eyed the vampire curiously with a faint trace of amusement in his smile as he took a step back to grant Iah a little more personal space. Regardless of how much fun it was to toy with these types, fucking around too much with masters never tended to end well. The hellhound chuckled at the stammered admission, holding a hand up in defence as if to signify that the other man had little to worry about. “That’s fine then. Means we won’t have any problems. Patrons like you are the best kind; it’s the assholes that come here to get fucked up and then fuck everything else up in the process that make me question if the money’s really worth it– I’m rambling, you wanna head in?”

He wasn't really sure what to do when the other bit down on his ID, but decided his best option was to stay quiet and wait for it to be handed back. Once it was, he placed it back into his wallet. As the other moved closer, Iah stiffened, unsure what to do or what was happening. "No," he replied, "I haven't been here in a while." His head turned as he tried to follow the other's path around him, having to shift around to do so. "O-oh, I wasn't. I mostly just wanted to dance."

[failbhe]

All things considered, letting matters escalate inside the club seemed like a terrible idea on multiple counts. Cían had been a thing composed entirely of misguided rage and impulse when he’d first crossed paths with Tiernan and though he’d mellowed out over the years that had come to pass, he couldn’t help but harbour resentment for the ghoul on principle. Cían chuckled as he noticed the ruffling-induced irritation and made no attempt to hide the extent of his amusement as the councilman continued. He pretended to consider Tiernan’s words, tapping absently at his lower lip with his forefinger as he hummed his contemplation, only briefly sparing a glance to one of the many CCTV cameras dotted around the club. Was it worth risking the job so soon? Probably not. Didn’t mean it wasn’t worth a shot trying, though. 

Glancing back to Tiernan, Cían huffed a laugh at him before moving to roughly shove the ghoul back with all the strength he could muster, the lack of a collar allowing for a much easier bid for starting something they both knew he’d struggle to finish. “Is this how it’s gotta go, Halloran? I’ve gotta nudge you all the way to the doors myself? Grown man like you can’t find a door by himself? And they let you sit on the council? Embarrassing.”

Barely reacting even as Cian tried to pull some kind of reaction from him, Tiernan just arched an eyebrow slightly as he looked down at the Hellhound. The councilman had a temper, but he could subdue it, keep himself calm until it benefitted him not to. The ruffle to his hair made his shoulders tighten, his temper simmering beneath the aloof exterior Tiernan used. "I'm not entertaining your disrespect, mutt," he murmured, soft and even, not moving an inch. "I've taken you several times before, Cian. What makes you think today is going to be any different that the rest of our encounters? By all means, try me."

[failbhe]

The flash of concern didn’t go unnoticed and Cían brushed it off with a shrug in response, rolling his eyes at the mere suggestion of keeping an aloof front around his fellow conspirator. No doubt they’d put Dmitri through hell and back already in an attempt to prise information from him; Cían didn’t doubt for a single second that they’d do so again in a heartbeat if they suspected something was amiss. For Dmitri’s sake, perhaps biting his tongue and dialing back the jovial approach would be beneficial. He’d keep that in mind for next time. Now, however, seemed pointless – especially if Cían was planning on getting them both out of here as soon as physically possible. He’d spent enough time in other Undercrofts throughout his time and he definitely didn’t need a refresher on how miserable the places were.

“Everybody’s got a breaking point, smartass. Stop saying that so proudly down here. You’re only gonna entice the wrong kinda crowd.” As a semi-professional yapper, even Cían knew when to shut up and keep his head down around certain audiences. The hellhound snorted at the apparent consensus that Dmitri was the scary type, shooting the werewolf a look of mild disbelief as he eased himself up. “You? Really?” There was no denying that Dmitri certainly could be, but it was far more entertaining to tease him about it instead. “I don’t see it. You must be stuck with a real bunch’a softies in here if they’re scared of you.” Turning on his heel to head towards the staircase so that they could both finally get out of such an oppressive environment for a few hours, Cían flipped him off over his shoulder without breaking his stride. “I’ll keep you tethered outside as a guard dog for the night instead if you keep talking like that. Not joking.”

When Dmitri looked back at Cian, he was trying his utmost to keep a straight face. What was Cian playing at, he wondered? Cian hadn't been caught, and while they weren't actively trying to get information out of Dmitri anymore, all it took was for one person to think they looked rather too chummy and he'd be interrogated all over again. He wouldn't be able to keep the information back with the collar on. He swallowed, a brief flash of concern across his face. He couldn't warn Cian here. Not aloud.

"Am not easy to break." He shrugged his shoulders, trying to seem nonchalant. Then he broke, a chuckle gurgling in his throat. "Sure. Is boring down here. Nobody want play with me. Think I'm scary." He got to his feet, abandoning his craft project on the sofa as he stretched his arms over his head, cracking his bones. He didn't mind if he had to walk down to Krovstown in his underwear. It wasn't like the chill bothered a Russian werewolf. "I see how bad your decorating is. Your taste- is bad."

[failbhe]

“An’ you didn’t think to check a single one of ‘em for that phone of yours before leavin' earlier? You pretty types are always the same. There’s never a single thought goin’ on in that head of yours, is there?” Affectionately knocking his forehead against Gwyn’s for emphasis, Cían reluctantly released his grip to commit to the real task at hand, carelessly and shamelessly groping every inch of the sith and his clothing in search of something that could potentially be an ID somewhere. When the search proved inconclusive, Cían took a step back to give Gwyn a quizzical look, tilting his head to the side with a huff. “You even got somethin’ like that on you or… are you wantin' to waste my time? The latter works too, don’t get me wrong. I get paid either way. At least gimme a hint or somethin’ if you’re really plannin' on headin' inside.”

"You have to take the thing out of your pocket to use it, genius." Gwyn sighed, eyes rolling skyward as if searching for a convenient deity to beseech for patience, "It's a wonder you make it safely out your front door every morni--" The end of the sith's barb was cut off by Cían taking him up on the offer very enthusiastically, Gwyn letting out a surprised little yelp as those ready hands groped at him before his mind caught up to the state of things again. "Good observational skills?" A swell of dizzy laughter tumbled out of him, Gwyn biting his lower lip against a grin as he braced his arms against Cían's shoulders, elbows locked to keep them separated -- at least above the waist. Below, the hellhound was still perfectly snug between the sith's legs and so, so warm. Gwyn wanted to drape himself over him like a cat on a radiator. He let his head fall back against the brick instead, that rougher squeeze only making his fingers dig harder to Cían's shoulders in return. "By all means then, observe away," Gwyn said, cheerful and breathless, rocking his hips up into the other's goadingly, "Not there though, darling, keep looking. I've got an awful lot of pockets."

[failbhe]

Cían bit back a chuckle at the obvious tension that remained when it came to the sensitive subject of Lucien and bowed his head to hide the grin that blossomed in its wake. It was a pleasant surprise to have the dragon play ball so quickly and Cían’s head snapped up at the polite request in visible surprise. “Yeah,” a shrug was followed by a brief glance back to the club’s doors. “He’s upstairs. He’s been here for ‘bout an hour. Didn’t arrive with anyone but fuck knows if Gaudet’s conjured himself here in the meantime or something.”

"Shouldn't me belonging to the man who owns this place be enough ID?" Charlie asked, snorting softly, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow up at Cían. There was a time that the dragon wouldn't have ever admitted out loud that he 'belonged' to anyone, but he'd started reluctantly accepting that shit when Raphael had dragged him back to Krovs. Still, there was a little flicker of embarrassment from the dragon at the question of whether he'd come looking for Raphael and Charlie nodded slowly. "He wasn't in the suite, so hoping he's here instead of with Gaudet." He said Lucien's last name with some venom, jealousy coursing through him that Charlie very firmly squashed. Stupid. He couldn't help but roll his eyes at Cían. "Can you please tell me if he's here? That nice enough?"

[failbhe]

It took a good eighty percent of Cían’s self-control not to laugh at the continuous grumblings as Enzo rummaged around. The amount of folks actually willing to go through with this charade continued to surprise the hellhound – did none of them realise they could tell him no? Not that he was complaining; it helped to pass the time. “Awkward? Me?” Feigning offence, Cían clutched at his metaphorical pearls with a gasp before moving to snatch the offered ID. He narrowed his eyes as he studied it, his gaze flickering between Enzo and the card itself before giving a corner an experimental bite, gnawing on it for a second before handing it back, seemingly satisfied with the evidence provided. “I guess you can head inside. You pinky promise you’ll be on your best behaviour in there, yeah?”

Being denied entry to the club was certainly a first, and he couldn't help but let out a fed up sigh as he rolled his eyes, backing off just a fraction. "Face card should definitely count," Enzo muttered, feeling his jacket pockets to see if he'd brought any form of ID with him. "Are you feeling like being awkward tonight? Who's pissed you off?" The siren asked, raising an eyebrow slightly as he fished out his wallet, flicking through the numerous cards until he pulled out his ID -- well, one of them anyway. He had.. various.. for various occasions. It wasn't like he could keep track after two thousand years.

[failbhe]

The mini Raphael didn’t seem pleased to be held to some kind of standard and though Cían could hardly be surprised, it only made him all the more determined to drag the process out longer. Compliance would’ve let him through the doors far quicker, but sometimes the obvious choice wasn’t always the first one. “Face card doesn’t count,” the hellhound countered with a shrug, not budging an inch from blocking Enzo’s path. “You got anythin’ else?”

Having a free evening where he wasn't actually working for a change, Enzo decided he would pay his father's club a visit since he hadn't been that many times. He really did need to go more often since it always ended up being a really fun evening. He made his way into town, dressed in his usual all-black get up, including black jeans and a leather jacket. Enzo's wardrobe was never very colourful. The siren approached the doors, eyeing the bouncer that then ended up stopping him from entering. "You must be new," Lorenzo muttered, eyebrow raised slightly as he looked down at the hellhound that was now blocking his way. "ID? Really?" He asked, eyebrow arching further as he gestured to his own face.

[failbhe]

With barely a centimetre between them as neither party wished to back down, Cían could practically feel the centuries-old resentment spring back into life between them. “‘s that what you want, old man?” Cían grinned, bright and wolfish as he squared up further to the councilman. “Weather’s not unpleasant tonight. What you bein’ pathetic for? Scared those locks’a yours might get blown outta place by a light breeze?” as if to accentuate his antagonising, Cían reached up to roughly ruffle Tiernan’s hair with another bark of laughter, gripping a handful to tug for good measure. “Rules are rules. Big bad councilman like you should know that. Last time ‘m gonna ask you nicely – would you pretty please wait outside with the rest’a the punters? Club policy applies to all. Says so in the trainin’ for this place. Trust me.”

Not at all flinching or even reacting as Cían moved in closer, Tiernan just kept his eyes on the hellhound, staring him down with his icy gaze, almost daring him to start something he knew Cían wouldn't be able to finish.. but Tiernan certainly would. "I suppose all you can have is hope when you don't have much else going for you," Tiernan muttered in response, another little smirk forming on his lips even as Cían took in his scent. "Such a mouth on you," he commented. "Are you going to make me go outside, Cían?" The councilman asked, head tilting to the side ever so slightly as he took a step closer to the hellhound, looking down at the shorter male. "Because I rather think I'd like to stay in here and wait."

[failbhe]

“Pockets.” Cían replied bluntly, patting his jacket for emphasis slowly, as if Gwyn might struggle to comprehend the notion unless it was explained in the simplest possible terms and given the sith’s current state, Cían doubted he was too far off from the truth. “Real handy, like. Should try ‘em sometime. Might not lose your shit so often.” Predictably, Gwyn hadn’t seemed to process anything other than the passing compliment and the hellhound had been ready to encourage him to lightheartedly fuck off and come back come sunrise to see if any of the night’s stragglers had been decent enough not to pocket the phone left so brazenly on offer before the display put on for him was enough to reroute Cían’s train of thought instantly and he closed in on him, wasting no time in roughly grabbing Gwyn’s ass with both hands as he pressed himself flush against him. “Lechery? Nuh uh. ‘s called havin’ good observational skills, Gwyndolyn. Says so on my CV in black an’ white. But back to what I first asked–” groping a touch too hard to be considered comfortable, Cían made a quiet noise of consideration before lifting a hand to delve into one of Gwyn’s coat pockets. “Still need that ID from you.”

Gwyn grimaced, scrunching up his nose, "It's a phone, if you must know," He sighed, slumping against the wall again, "I don't know how anyone keeps theirs where it's supposed to be. They're too small." It was still on the bar, most likely. Or maybe on the floor in the coat room, or under that one booth... too many possibilities. Roland would get grumpy if he stopped answering his texts again after that one night with Ravani. Gwyn suppressed a shiver, though the chilliness of the autumn air meant little to him. "You think I'm pretty, Cían?" He grinned as if that was the only important thing the hellhound had said (and it was, really). "You're so sweet. Not sweet enough, though." Gwyn was honestly a bit too drunk to fumble along in his thoughts for who Valentine was again, but the first part of Cían's threat registered very clearly. "Want to pat me down?" Gwyn batted his lashes, leaning back against the brick and canting his hips forwards so his open coat would fall away from his body, "You aren't helping your reputation for lechery here, but I'll comply."

[failbhe]

“An’ what goods are you missin’, exactly? Didn’t hear no report of nothin’ goin’ missin’.” Glancing towards the club’s doors, Cían pursed his lips into a contemplative pout and weighed up the few available options before returning his full attention to Gwyn with a quizzical look, observing the theatrical gesture with a snort of laughter. “Yeah, no, not happenin’. Raph’s busy tonight. Unless you’ve already got somethin’ scheduled with him, I don’t see him fittin’ you in. Even somethin’ as pretty as you has to wait sometimes. Rough, I know, but that’s jus’ the way it is. Maybe if you could keep ahold’a all your stuff, we wouldn’t even have to be havin’ this conversation. You ever thought’a that?” If they were going to play this game, Cían saw no reason not to have a little fun with it. Gwyn’s struggle to repress his amusement didn’t go amiss and Cían couldn’t help but smirk at the small step taken towards victory. “Cute. Sounds like you’re still assumin’ that you can wander on in there, though. You gonna make me ask for ID a third time or am I gonna have to wrangle it outta you? Reasonable force is legal down here, y’know. Valentine’d back me up.”

That laugh was a win to Gwyn's ears, though he kept himself as stern as could be managed in this state just to see if he could get Cían to crack a little more. "Maybe you're my problem, Ó Fáilbhe." He drew out each syllable of familiar sounds of the other's name, loose and musical. "Can't a man return to the scene of the crime in peace? I'm here for missing goods, not more of the same - hand on my heart." Gwyn made the gesture as he said it, just to underline his sincerity. He squinted at Cían intently, then rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest with a cocked brow as he refused to budge. "Maybe you should let me speak to the big boss man himself, hm? Raph knows how to come to an understanding..." Cían's little dig registered and Gwyn's lips trembled with the effort of absorbing his own laugh. "Don't be so transparent, beloved. You can stare at my backside all you like while I'm walking away with what I came for, not a moment before."

[failbhe]

It was continuously surprising to see just how many folks complied with the ridiculous request. In truth, Cían hadn’t expected a single soul to go ahead with it and realise that he was merely being difficult for his own amusement to help the hours pass by a little quicker, but by some small and endlessly amusing miracle, the hellhound had amassed a small wealth of information from those willing to hand over whatever form of ID they’d been carrying with them. “‘s a pretty recent scheme,” Cían replied conversationally, shrugging off the lie with as charming a smile as he could muster. “Better safe than sorry, y’know?”

"Thanks, man," Khion snorted, grinning crookedly as he took his ID back. He stepped aside near the door for a moment so he could tuck it back into his wallet and pocket. "When the fuck did they start this shit? Are we really expecting anyone here in this place to be underage?"

[failbhe]

Taking the ID the moment it was offered, Cían studied it closely and flipped it back and forth a couple of times, bringing it to his mouth to curiously gnaw on a corner before finally deeming it valid and handing it back to the other with a bright grin. “No worries, you’re all good.” Pausing for a moment, the hellhound considered the other curiously, taking a step closer to assess the stranger’s scent. “Don’t think we’ve met before, have we? Don’t recognise your face.” Circling the master slowly, Cían tucked his hands into his jacket pockets with a tuneful hum before he came to a halt before Iah again. “Jus’ a word of warnin’– if you’re plannin’ on drinkin’ to excess in there tonight, ‘m not gonna be gentle draggin’ you out later on. Keep that in mind, yeah?”

Iah wasn't one for clubs very much, but being social was important and he couldn't spend all of his time inside his suite. However, he was a bit nervous about approaching the club. Sure, there were always people and sometimes good dancing, but for some reason, tonight he was feeling a bit self conscious.

At the request for an ID, he blinked, brain stalling for a second before he quickly fished one out. It was real, showing his actual, several century old age, and he hoped that the other was also supernatural and he wasn't about to get turned away for a fake.

"S-sorry," he stammered, trying to smile. "Forgot about that."

[failbhe]

The sith’s teasing prompted a laugh from Cían and all remaining hopes of maintaining any semblance of seriousness instantaneously crumbled, the hellhound’s demeanour shifting back to its usual lackadaisical self. “Then why’re you back? Once wasn’t enough? First step’s admittin’ you’ve got a problem, Caolán.” Cían held firm as Gwyn settled into his personal space, his brow rising in questioning as he watched the little performance continue. “‘Work somethin’ out’ he says. You know the rules, darlin’. No ID, no entry. Big boss man said so himself.” Well, technically. In reality, Raph hadn’t said a word about it but that wasn’t a vital detail to share. “How much have you had, anyway? Go on, go walk in a straight line for me. Gimme a laugh.”

It was very trying not to break out in giggles immediately at Cían's take on being stern. As it was, the smile he wanted to give him still danced in the sith's heavily-lined eyes, Gwyn heaving an exaggerated sigh as he twisted so his head could fall back against the wall, kicking his leg out in a gesture of idle indignation. "Earlier tonight, in fact! One has to wonder how you ended up parked at the door, with such astute observations; Morozov needs his detective." He peeked at the hellhound, then turned fully towards him again, swaying into Cían's space. The other ran so warm -- Gwyn could've sworn he could feel it radiating off the man from there. Or maybe that was all the drinks... "Can't we work something out?" He implored, "You're the charmingest company, but you aren't the only person who wants my time, you know."

[failbhe]

Shifting in his seat to follow Dmitri’s nod towards the guards, Cían offered a chipper wave to those on duty before turning back to face the werewitch properly, rolling his eyes with an exasperated huff at Dmitri’s plight. “As entertainin’ as it’d be to watch you go up against ‘em all, ‘s probably for the best you don’t. Looks like they’ve already put you through it. Don’t make it worse for yourself – I’m speakin’ from experience here.” Cían’s gaze dropped to the fabric draped over the younger’s lap as he considered the question carefully. “Came to see you, genius. Wanted to see if they’d broken you down yet. Glad they haven’t.” Lifting his gaze to meet Dmitri’s again, Cían gave him as warm a smile as he could muster. “You wanna get outta here for a while? ‘s about time you see my new digs. It's a fuckin’ nice place, lemme tell you.”

Dmitri raised his head. For a long moment he just looked at Cian, sniffing the air. In the long week of torture, Dmitri wasn't sure what he'd said and what secrets he'd managed to keep hold of. He knew that most of his collaborators had been dead before the kremlin had even got hold of Dmitri. There were a few he hadn't known the status of, Cian being one of them. To see him not only alive, but apparently walking free filled Dmitri with immense relief. But then came the wave of dread. He now had a secret to hold onto, which would be incredibly difficult if he aroused any further suspicion, with his mind shielding abilities blocked by the collar around his throat.

His mouth had remained a severe, thin line. Then suddenly it broke into a toothy grin. "Settle us? For that drink you owe me, Da." He nodded in the direction of the guards on duty. "They think I'll go on rampage with sewing needle. Pussies. Could. Won't. Needle break too easy." Dmitri rolled his shoulders in some semblance of a shrug. He lowered the fabric, let the partially dismantled trousers rest over his legs. "Why you here?"

[failbhe]

Staring up at the sith in explicit amusement, Cían made no effort to react for a moment, merely appreciative of Gwyn’s company regardless of the circumstances or sobriety levels. The latter, however, was a fun aspect to potentially toy with. “You came here, smartass,” there was no heat or venom in Cían’s tone; Gwyn was far too entertaining for that. There was no harm in taking the sith up on his offer though, and take him up he did, taking a moment to take in the sight before him in all its glory. “If anythin’, sounds to me like you jus’ couldn’t stay away. You missed me that much, huh?”

He really had approached Euphoria again with innocent intentions (just how many places was it possible to leave a cellphone, anyway??), but Gwyn felt all those melt away at the sight of his favorite new bouncer swimming into view. It was quite late in the evening and the sith had enjoyed more than his fair share of imbibement already, the path he took to reach Cían not all at a straight and steady one. He was far too delighted that the hellhound was still around to care. "Don't be such a killjoy, sweetness," Gwyn sighed and leaned up against the doorframe, one hand primping at his curls as he gazed down at the other with a put-on pout, glossy and plum-colored this evening. "Haven't you seen enough of me this week? Or do you just want another look?"

[failbhe]

“Do I look like I’m jokin’, princess? ID or no entry, take your pick.” Realistically speaking, there was no need whatsoever to ask, that much was blindingly obvious to every single one of the town’s inhabitants but that wasn’t nearly as entertaining as watching the reactions the questioning prompted. Ignoring the other’s questioning, Cían snatched the ID the moment it was offered, scanning his gaze over it for a long moment – much longer than was needed – before moving to hand it back, only to snatch it away again when Khion went to take it back. “Two-hundred-an’-two, huh? You don’t look a day over one-ninety.” This time, he actually handed it back with a cocky grin, moving aside to let the pamola pass. “Thank you. Go ‘head, go have fun. Not too much that I’ve gotta intervene, though. I don’t wanna have to deal with that tonight.”

"Are you for real?" Khion's brows rose up at the question he hadn't heard in his direction in maybe a hundred years. He glanced on either side of himself, double checking that this bouncer was indeed addressing the 200 year old pamola who physically appeared to be in his 40s. He was a frequent guest at Euphoria and never had this happen before, certainly not by the unfamiliar man supposedly now working here. "Are you new? Do I look like I'm 16 or some shit?" Shaking his head, he produced his wallet from his pocket and swiped out his ID, handing it over between index and middle fingers.