1965-01-13 - Project Gemini: Wait Wot?
Summary: The British Invasion comes to New York in time to banish the cold and gloom of winter. The Zombies are in town for an exclusive set at one of Greenwich Village's hottest clubs! Tickets are hot commodities, and have you seen how cute those boys are? Come for the tunes, stay because a curse means you can't leave. But I promise, it'll be a killer set! The Nazis have decided to use the Gandhi Civ 5 route and win a cultural victory over the Allies.
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
jean-grey jenny-sparks kaleb vesper jay paige 


09:46 PM. The Bitter End. Greenwich Village.
Only two hundred people or so fit in the Bitter End. Every last one crams into the pit of the audience. They squeeze together, answering the call of Colin Blunstone, the moptop singer of the British band that has them enthralled. Guitar riffs have the girls in their short dresses dancing, keeping to the vaguely skiffle beat. This is cool at its finest, the growling croons at odds with the young Brits crammed on the stage among their heavy kit.

"Well, let me tell you 'bout the way she looked;
The way she'd act and the color of her hair.
Her voice was soft and cool,
Her eyes were clear and bright,
But she's not there."

Fourth song into their set, and things are hot. It's not the first time the lads have performed in New York — they've been at Lux several times over the last year — but this intimate opportunity capitalises on their fame. They prowl on the stage, close enough the front row can reach out and touch them. Though if anyone does, there's a beefy looking gentleman to stop that.

Ref: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=it68QbUWVPM

For some reason or another, any big music thing that was happening in town, Jean made a New Years resolution to go to. To get out, to meet more people, to explore the depths of her telepathy and empathy, and block it all the hell out to enjoy herself. Lately, everything has been all work and no play. Hanging around the same people, not that she minded, but she wanted to at least live life the way that it was meant to. Being fulfilled by work, eating the finest foods whenever she had the appetite, wandering the city in search of new things, indulging herself in the 'Family Business', saving people.. hunting things..

And yet this? This is where that long, red hair came down. And how those hands raised into the air. Her knees bent and hips bopped left and right in quick succession. Granted, she looked like an idiot, but she was an idiot with majestic flailing limbs who fell into the sets of music like she was meant to be there. Woo girls weren't invented just yet, but there was a hot little number of a guy and girl that sandwiched her in between who kicked their legs up in half assed twists who had fun right along with her.

Did Jean just make friends?!

The girl from Kentucky has totally fallen in the wave of the British Invasion. Back home, Paige ran grooves into 'Meet the Beetles' with as many times as she's played it in the room she shared with Melody back home - to the point that she had to take it with her when she left for New York. Having arrived a few days before the concert, she barely had time to secure tickets and make it to the concert herself. She wishes she could have found better seats, but beggars can't be choosers.

The blonde bounces along with the music, the girl squealing at every one of the men up on the stage, because this is totally eye candy for the young woman as she is just feeding off the energy of being around other people that just ain't her family.

There's a beefy looking gentleman and a woman in white slacks and a muted red and blue blouse, the latter doing her best to blend into the audience while keeping an eye out for trouble amidst it. It took the promise of free drinks, a looming rent payment, and an old drinking buddy amongst the backstage crew to bring Jenny to the Bitter End for auxillary security. With bottles raised in both hands, vigorously twisting hips, braid-whipping head-bopping, and a faintly proud grin plastered on, she splits her attention between revelry and crowd-scanning like a seasoned pro.

She's not much for squealing, but loud, off-key singing is a different matter entirely.

They had a long brainstorming session about this night in TCP 5th Ave apartment. Weeks of planning and brainstorming and trying to figure out just how to manage it without Kaleb's brains coming out of his nose. What they ended up with was a compromise of sorts and a LOT of watchfulness on Jay's part, but the red-headed musician would not miss this night unless he or his best friend were spontaneously dead. Jay's tucked his wings up under one of his normal plaid shirts, slicked down to his back to try to keep down on the space he takes up, but they are squirming beneath that cloth as Jay tries not to burst at the seams and sing along to every single word. Carefully guarding his best friend's side, he lets Kaleb decide on just where is the least painful place to stand, going wherever he does. As long as he can hear the music, Jay is on cloud nine and a half.

Some of the girls are a little too wild, vibrating in their excitement. The crowd's a living thing and short of sprouting spines and claws, no one gets anywhere near ample personal space. No elbows to the sides or knees to groins, but people press in to listen. Dancers collect other dancers. Spirits are high and the mood is good, which feeds the Zombies with that kinetic energy. Strumming on their guitars and light on the keyboards, the band shake their heads and groove in time with their fans. It goes both ways: show excitement, and they reflect it right back.

The lead singer steps up in front of the microphone and purrs,

"I don't like you, but I love you,
Seems that I'm always thinking of you.
Oh, oh, oh, you treat me badly,
I love you madly, you really got a hold on me."

Speakers pound to give back the melody, anchored on the ceilings and the floors. The sighs erupt as the Zombies shift gears.

REF: https://open.spotify.com/track/6a6vi7tNL6NSeRa4Ez0Bj6

|ROLL| Kaleb +rolls 1d20 for: 1

There was no shortage of weird dancing moves that Jean could put out; swayed hips, some weird do-wop-pop-pop motion, a twirl around and a twist. There weren't any high fives with those that dance about, but yet a song cuts on and most were filling the foot of the stage or swaying together, there was even a couple kissing! Oh well! The vibe was good. There was happiness around. It was a great off day and she was glad she took the money to see this new-fangled band. This was lovely.

So she followed the ambling crowd, tucking herself in at a larger guys side to use him as a sort of shield from thrown arms in praise, or a random throw of sweat cause.. ew! And yet, even as her eyes alight on stage they stop at one. Jenny Sparks.

Recognizing her through the eyes of the others from the week before, there was a quiet mental nudge in her direction. A date. A place. A time. About those women and what happened that night. Proposition for you. Enjoy the show! Or.. something equally eerie. And weird. Jean's a fan of weird.

Kaleb was just going to have a rough time of this being exceptionally sensitive to sound. In time he'd be able to flux in tune with all of the nuissances. Right now? He was young with only 5 months of practice in small doses and this was amplifiers, screaming girls, and hard surfaces. Analyzing the room Kaleb chose one of the walls with Jay actually behind him using the wings, though tucked in, as a buffer. And this was… working out well! Jay might even be started seeing his buddy actually *look* like he's having a good time. Hell who really remembered he used to take his ex-dancing? He was no Kellan, but it honestly looked good to cut a rug again.

Vibes are always good vibes. As the musical tone changes, Paige sways with the music, and tries to make sure she has a little room around her as she bounces along, the woman just excited to be able to enjoy a concert in New York City. So with 198 of her new friends - and one annoying brother she doesn't know is here, Paige is just all about the movements, the motions, the music.

Could she husk into sonic waves? Not something she's ever really considered before, but for now, she's all about enjoying the rush and cheer of the music, her dancing rather engertetic and perky - but then again, it is with most of the girls here - how is she different?

A geas eases its way into the folds of Jenny's subconscious. A beat of static spikes through Colin's vocals as twisting and bopping slow, practiced wariness clashing with psionic imperative. Brown eyes bounce around the crowd with a renewed fervor for several seconds before she finally hisses out a sigh, throws back most of a bottle, and proceeds to— just sort of hum along, this particular song running a few shades too sentimental for her tastes.

Dancing stops entirely in favor of winding through the crowd, and while she still spares intermittent glances for the band, she can't help but squint cautiously at the revelers surrounding her. At some point, the empty bottle winds up pressed into an unsuspecting free hand in passing.

Jay clamps his hands down on Kaleb's shoulders when the sonic looks like he's actually starting to move with it and have a good time. Squeezing around the neater dressed priss' shoulders, Jay's wings stretch while he sways back and forth with the music counter to Kaleb's boogie. Seams pop in the fabric, but he doesn't seem to notice in the least while the hump under his shirt expands exponentially—just a little more buffering for you, Kale! It's easy for the musician to slip into the weaving of the music. A new favorite band, the tune, the lyrics, /live/, with his best friend? Jay's eurphoria vibrates down every feather.

Good music has a way of getting into someone's head and taking over everything else. The driving rhythms synchronizes with the heartbeat. Movements come naturally, hence why dance is as old as humanity itself. Hysterical girls sob and shake at the sides of the rectangular room, their overwrought enthusiasm carrying in a wave to those adjacent to them. Other, mostly men, look like they just dropped a hit of LSD when surrendering to the catchy base beat building with inevitably.

The Zombies themselves are looking to one another, the manic grins from the drummer and the guitarist spelling out their opinions in a brief pause. Fingers fly across the strings, bloody nailed. The keyboardist is grimly determined to turn into the next Franz Liszt.

"You really got a hold on me, baby,
I don't want you, but I need you,
Don't want to kiss you, but I need you.
Oh, oh, oh, you do me wrong now,
My love is strong now you really got a hold on me."

The collective sigh of the audience becomes a few despondent sighs, and one girl swooning. They are pressed together so well she doesn't even drop. Wings or limbs, the screams aren't for Jay. They're for the music, and possibly because stopping the dancing is impossible for some…

Slow or not, Jean was having fun. The moves were not tantric, but they were electrifying. Bodies were against each other, some people grabbed their hair to tug and pull with how -awesome- this was, even the bigger guy next to her cried with tears of joy, and actually swooped Jean up into a bearhug that had both of her arms against her body to spin her around!

Yes. She was swept up in a dance with Paul Bunyun, a slow dance. A very awkward slow dance with her being squished and him hugging her like she was a favorite pet with dangled feet. He even pet her head, snuggled against her, sobbed with joy and rocked back and forth. His love was -real- strong. Thankfully, he smelled like the good soap and deoderant that men wore that made women swoon.

The sonic completely checked out. THe one thing he thought he was going to have to give up forever? Nah. Not when one can devote half of not 5 but 8 senses to the shape and texture of sound. He pulled it off the reverb in the wall and let it wrap around limbs, nerves, senses; dancing with it like a fish danses in water. This was his element and he hesitated not even for a moment to just coexist with it as one dancing symbioite. He wasn't there for the band, he was there for the sound. The gaggle of giggling girls could have the band. A wry grin was given to Jay that read clearly: Worth every risk.

While she had been enjoying the dancing so far, Paige realizes that it's really hot in here and she could use a drink. She stops dancing, but finds herself in the mass of moving humanity. "Ah, 'cuse me, trying to get by.." the guy next to her turns to face and just keeps dancing, and the young woman frowns. "Please let me by!" she tries again, her voice imploring. But it's like talking to a brick wall as the girl draws in a breath, and tries to find her way through.

Glass meets palm, fingertips brush—

— eyes meet—

— and before she knows it, Jenny and her humming have turned from crowd-fording towards hand-holding, bottle slipping and eventually shattering as her fingers slide between those of the man with dilated pupils she meant to use as a trash recepticle.

The laughter that follows comes nowhere near competing with the experience rolling through them as she draws him into swaying with— against— her, swigging briskly from her remaining bottle before pressing it to his lips and tipping. A place, a day, a time, and a woman spiral into the depths of her subconscious, crowded out by heat, sound, sweat and pressure.

The place is a crowded, suffocating mass of heat, bodies, voices, sounds and electricity. It should be hell for Kaleb. Jay prepared for hell. He prepared for emergency exits via flight, and inventing the mosh-pit as he body checked people away from his contact-avoidance friend.

That it wasn't the case at all /should/ be pinging every single 'weird-shit-o-meter' the young man's mind is capable of, and yet, he very simply cannot stop moving in that sea of fish. His mild-mannered persona fallen back, shed off like his sister's skin, and instead Jay is beaming from ear to ear like he hasn't in /months/. That one 'aw shucks' dimple on the left side of his face visible as he grins back to Kaleb his utter elation that things are working out just. So. Well.

In a moment of disregard for every bit of information he's stored away on Kale, Jay laughs and swoops in, his arms under Kaleb's to hug the guy while he aggressively bounced back and forth to the sway of the music. Not clinging, he releases the guy mostly, but clutches Kaleb by the forearm. Oblivious to his sister's plight. Oblivious to, really any plight. His wings pop through the giving seams in his overshirt, crimson feathers sprouting over his shoulders high above his head, folded yet, though not for long judging by that need to move and stretch Jay's feeling. Pressing folks back just as much as they press him forward.

Trying to get a drink may be impossible. The few staff turned over to shelling out styrofoam cups of overpriced water are all caught up in the performance. One of the men grooves on the spot. The other just leans up against the scarred wooden counter. People tolerate a bit of nudging and shoving, probably doing a fair bit themselves. Arms in the air, feet light on the ground, bodies turning to a steady beat. Make the most of the British Invasion. Syncopation and gyration don't line up to the music nor does it really matter.

Surrender to the music, surrender to the beat. Give way, and go. The underlying subtext in the music compels the weaker-willed to do just that.

The keyboardist halts a moment, brushing the sweat off his brow, and frowning. But still his hands are moving whether he likes it or not to the keys, while the singer pours his heart out.

"I want to leave you, don't want to stay here,
Don't want to spend another day here.
Oh, oh, oh, I want to split now, I can't, baby…"

Another exhausted dancer drops. The unflagging pace and the building chorus are a light flick of the whip to a team of horses, if by a team two hundred people count.

One might be offended or feel slighted if they were in Jean's shoes, her plight was something that was not normal and a once in a lifetime occurance. Yes, the big guy won't let go. Yes it was getting hot in here. But the way he twirls and holds her like a lover long missed was something akin to a joy she has never felt. Weird. She must have left herself unchecked. But wasn't this the point? To go out and experience the new things and people? A certain red-head told her to do it anyways, yes?


And even though she was still squished, swept off of her feet, her arms wriggle through the big mans bear-hug and at least joins in the hugs and the light-hearted pats to his back to encourage more swaying and dancing, and tearful, joyful crying on his part.

"Its wonderful, innit?!" She screams out.

Kaleb was on some serious sonic feedback overload. Jay's seen him do this with a porter and some miles davis but this was large scale nd he was just- he was being hugged? He wasn't even registering that having so many things rip through his senses seeing the sound in sense, sensation and looking, well, punch drunk grinning. Are we sure this isn't Kellan in a suit?

As much as she may like to dance, Paige is feeling it, just not fully. That want to dance, however? It's replaced with horror when she sees a set of red wings in the crowd. The same wings that she recognized as belonging to a certain younger brother. "Jay?!" she calls out, though down here, among the swirling, squirming, moving mass of humanity, she isn't heard by her be-winged brother.

Oh gosh, oh gosh.. what to do, what to do.. Paige glances up to the stage, even as she swims with the moving and shifting mass, before she glances at the lights, and then the stage, and the way that they're playing. And she starts to feel a pang of panic. What if they turn against her baby brother? No, she can't let that happen.

Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who's the flashiest of them all. Paige looks over her outfit and frowns. She had just recently got it, but it was adorable on her - and she's going to hate ruining it. After a though, she reaches up, her nails digging into her skin at the temples.. and SHRIP

Off comes the human skin. Beneath is glass, mirrored glass that's reflecting light as she continues to morbidly rip skin and clothing from her body, taking on a completely mirrored form. And then she shouts in her best and loudest mom/oldest sister voice as light bounces off the new 'skin', "Joshua Zachariah Guthrie, you put 'em wings away!"


Jenny's brow furrows at an oddly placed kick drum and brown eyes manage to tear themselves from the beautiful boy pressed against her and scan the room once more. A phantom whiff of gasoline pricks her senses, a place flickers in her mind's eye, something shimmers strangely amidst the crowd— and the crack of a snare snaps her out of her curiosity, allowing the thrumming, throbbing reality of the Bitter End to push all else aside.

Surrender Jay can do. All his life he's been hearing the word, usually in a religious sense, but music is his second god—his shameful golden calf. Just don't tell Momma. Kaleb gets a hug and doesn't tell Jay to stop being stupid, and if Jay were of a more present mind, he very well might have a moment of 'Are you really a Kale?' But he doesn't care right now. Kaleb. Kellan. Whichever Miller boy it was, Jay was going to bounce and dance with the guy and think about it later. The foreced sheath of his wings give way as the keyboardist comes back to the keys after a moment, fabric screaming as it gives way and strong, feathery appendages fling out in either direction, giving people on either side of him a big ol' face-worth of the things.


Until he hears a familiar sound over the din. Screaming at him. His stomach turns liquid and heart skips a beat. Full name, too? Oh /Lord/! But he can't stop moving. Clutching Kaleb's forearm, Jay swings around, looking for the source of the voice.

Hard to miss the walking mirrorball. "Paige?!" He squints. Then waves like an idiot and adds that to his boogie. "/PAIGE!/"

It's so hard to concentrate with that music sinuously wrapping around everyone. Energy pulled from the dancers in abundance spills off away to an unknown point. The active dancers try to keep up their pace, hard as that is. Those who falter still move, and if they cannot move, it's because they have dropped.

Fear or surprises do not slow their actions down. Skittering away from Jay or the glitter-ball construct that is Paige never stops the audience. They weakly bat away wings, shoving feathers off. They squeeze back in, turning their backs. Even if a few cry out, they don't react with fists.

The song reaches an end and normally the set might pause for some words to the crowd. Not for the lead singer, who coughs, and says, "Right, yeah, uh…"

He's still strumming that guitar, and the ominous overtones of the House of the Rising Sun begin. Thank you, rest of the band. It's even harder to generate powerful emotional responses, to split attention. More will fall, depleted into a blissless stupor.

People were dropping, Jean didn't care. Most were upon the floor writhing with whatever energy they had left, like they were in the desert climbing for a false pool of water. Jean didn't care. Nope. Because this was the stuff, this was the stuff and this is what fun meant to be. The bigger man's arms felt slack. He wasn't healthy by any stretch of the mile so he was going down fast. Down to his knees he went, a slight wobble and a fall to the side which released Jean onto the floor with a tumble and a rise to her feet.

Cue adrenaline!

"GET UP!" She nearly screams, her foot lashing out to nudge the man's belly. Nudge again. Nudge again. This is why no one should ever effect -anything- around Jean, because now the dance and everything else became an addiction. She was still ready and roaring to go!

Energy, she had tons of it. There was a move through the crowd that signifies that she was the one doing it. The sea of people were parted as if she were Moses; most moved out of the way listlessly as if they didn't plan it. Some people were being shoved to the ground and rolled out of the way, others flew like pins that were struck by a bowling ball. Wack! And once she reached the bar, a cup of water was snatched from its surface, half drank and quite possibly with a Lucky Strike snuffed out in it, but she didn't care. Thirsty is as thirsty does!

And she was back at it again, House of the Rising Sun? That was Jean. Whatever notes that were playing within had her swaying, fingers grasping at sleeves of her all too plain dress to rip away the fabric, feet lifting from the floor as she begins to rise high above the others and quite literally burn.

Eat up.

Kaleb was living life feeling like some sonic messiah; wound in tune with everysine wave and every beta wave that thrummed through the place and off the walls bleeding energy with it dispersing his senses out completely into the song's coda. Jay was bickering with his sister? Grooovy man. Slowly the dance became a sway abck and forth completely unaware that he couldn't lift his arms as he was so far out of his head right now. Far enough out that he never was aware his back hit the wall behind him and he sloooowly sank to the floor with that blissful grin last seen in December on many an exhausted tot passing out waiting for Santa. And still he e extended himself from where he passed out agains thte wall.

|ROLL| Vesper +rolls 1d20 for: 20

Jay heard her, but the loon didn't stop dancing. "Jay, put in your wings! I don't want you in trouble!" she starts to cry out, and then there's Jean. And she's right there, the redhead rising off the ground, feeling the heat. The flames reflect off of Paige's mirrored skin, and the young woman's eyes widen in shock.. and horror.

Does she dare yell 'Fire!' in a crowded theatre?

Perhaps not, but she's trying to make her way through the crowd to pull the fire alarm. And hopefully set off the sprinklers. Because she's not sure of the nature of Jean's flames, but she'd rather not have herself or her baby brother burn to death tonight, kay thanks.

A healthy number of unhealthy people are down, a good quarter of the crowd visibly impacted by the endless dancing. Jean knocks aside enough to show the inability to react. They look like marathon runners at the last mile, or so.

The fiery halo around Jean's body should terrorize them all. Maybe somewhere in the brain it does, but the dancers are too tired, too caught up, to really react. Here and there people back away or seek cover… behind others. Because where else is there? The doors aren't opening.

With nary a pause for breath, bass bordering on the infernal punctuates the smoky guitar riffs that begin pouring through the Bitter End, and the firm body against Jenny's sags in her grasp as the feverish pace of the concert finally catches up with him. A quarter of a bottle of beer meets the ground as she rushes to free her hands so she can support his weight— and then, once that becomes too great a burden, shove him aside so she can find a fresh partner.

This proves more difficult than anticipated despite the throng of hundreds: for the first time, she notices the bodies groaning on the ground, some still writhing to the rhythm with what little strength they still possess. One derisively snorted, "Soft," later, she raises her eyes to Jay's wings and begins working her way towards him, stepping and sliding and grooving around bodies. Despite gasps for air, she diverts her arms from twisting with the beat long enough to fetch a cigarette, popping it between her lips; in lieu of a lighter, a tiny spark leaps from fingertip to tobacco as she inhales. The exhale comes with a grin cast towards the waving, winged mutant—

— only to be cut short with a gasping cough when Jean begins burning above the dance floor. Hips asway, she stares up at the blazing redhead for a surprised beat before pressing fingers to her lip and releasing a piercing note with a renewed grin.

A heavy breath follows, and while she doesn't dream of stopping - or even so much as finding something to support herself while dancing - she does let her eyes fall nearly shut while dancing. Posthuman senses flash outwards, lights flicker, sound warbles in and out; and the air about Jenny Sparks comes alive, electricity visibly crackling around her body for several seconds as her lungs fill and her pace quickens.

The music shifts and Jay's heart skips a beat. Chest constricting around his heart when those haunting melodies fill the air and weave themselves into the tapestry of the moment. "Ohhh…" Oh no. Oh /no/. His fingers slip off of Kaleb's wrist as his best friend slides down the wall, still smiling. The broad feathered appendages that gave him away droop a bit, though not due to Paige's yelling. Something plucks at the deep-feeling musician. He's got energy for days and days, his mutation granting him an ever-filling resevoir to pull from.

But not as ever-filling as /that/! Green eyes alight on Jeanie as he rises into the air, flames licking around her. Icarus, you are very, very flamable.

"Kale?" Jay cannot stop his feet, but he whispers the name to himself anyway, having lost track of his friend. His responsibility. You are the worst valet ever, Jay! Fallen bodies hardly seem to matter though they tickle in the back of his brain as 'not right', he can't quite seem to /care/ on the same level as he normally might. "Kaleb?!" The slow song sways and tugs and /hurts/ in a familiar way while he spots the suited-up Miller against the wall. Jay flicks a small smile and grabs the sonic's limp hand while Jenny makes her way in his direction. In about five seconds there's going to be some rather macabre 'dancing with a corpse' like movement if something doesn't happen.

:Well, I got one foot on the platform
The other foot on the train
I'm goin' back to New Orleans
To wear that ball and chain."

Like it or not, the Zombies are singing that song. The fatigue has taken the drummer down, and he slumps over his kit. Anger and British stiff upper lip aside, the efforts of the guitarist and bassist to stop playing haven't gone anywhere. They have committed, one way or the other. The keyboardist is still in his fugue, perilously close to passing out.

Not much better in the audience, either. Those who should be concerned by lightning, a disco ball, and flames beyond a man with wings aren't. Half of them have retreated into a soaring high. Energy siphoned off reaches a critical crest, a last violent surge that takes Kaleb down along with so many others. Easy to watch them being felled like a scyhe applied to summer wheat.

"Well, there is a house in New Orleans
They call the Rising Sun
And it's been the ruin of many a poor boy
And God I know I'm one…"

The lead singer drops from the stage, and lands on a pile of passed out girls.

A loud whistle cracks through the air. Someone was mindlessly joining the tune, someone was heating this place up like pancakes and it was all due to Jean's steamy dancing. Flames lick along her arms; her hair melded with the fire and flew. Not a stray flame or ember falls down, save for whatever piece of clothing that was detached from her body for a lick of relief.

Then there was lightning.

Another person stood the chance of the dance and Jeannie was all for it. There was a burst of wings from her back in the form of flames that nearly mirrored the red of Jay's if it weren't for the orange and yellow that melded within. They swoop and flap, carrying the woman towards Jenny, hanging above her so that they both could dance in the vicinity of each other. Fist shaking.. hips swaying, feet flailing so much that a shoe flies off and smacks an already downed dancer in the sea of bodies. WHOOPS!

And yet, once the singer falls from the stage, Jean.. still tries to dance.. but it was half-hearted. The keyboardist was playing like shit and shoulders slump like they would if sad/bad blues were playing upon the speaker. Lights died down on The Bitter End, much like the end of a show on Broadway, the fire snuffing itself yet leaves the redhead smoking hot and momentarily angry.

"What in the no-good-butter-sausage-with-corn-beef-hash is this mess?! -WHY- did the music spaz?!" Yes, there were at least three voices in the mix of her own and some people were about to get rekt. With a loss of her TK, she lands upon the ground with a healthy crouch, her already worn skirt ripping into a bit of a loin cloth, sweat upon her brow, hair a slightly damp mess, her chest heaving and.. there was a yawn? Night ain't over yet! Nope nope nope! She's got at least a good three hours in her before she kaputs and by golly gee wolly she was going paint the town a ferocious red.

"I'm blowing this popsicle stand! Worst. Band. Ever!" Turn, turn, turn, trip.. trip stumble! A foot in the side of a groaning woman to boost herself up and a topple yet again. "My life is ooooooveeer! Wait.. wait.. I can make everyone get up and dance! But that requires doing thiiiiiinngs.." Cue petulant child ranting here, and yawning. More yawning.

The music falls into disarray. The voice Jay'd come to hear drops and the sound of feedback hits the speakers. The song he'd heard that scrubbed at wounded feelings with steel wool is stopped. He found his sonic. Jay hoisted Kaleb up momentarily in some very 'kid dancing with a ragdoll' dance moves before, eventually, Jay's ridiculous stamina will find an end and he will drop as well. The musician protectively slumped by Kaleb, surrounded by a splay of crimson feathers fallen over danced-into-oblivion strangers.

"Fuck— "

Jenny's eyes snap from her formerly blazing dance partner towards the stage when the lyrics abruptly cut out—

"— the fuck?!"

— and back to Jean once the stream of cafeteria-inspired cursing commences. Her eyes begin rolling back towards the stage once more once that gives way to what appears to be a full blown tantrum, but once that passes in favor of flat out slapstick, she lets out a sharp sigh and seizes the redhead's arm, hoping to haul her back to her feet.

"Dozen too many, right?!" she wonders as electricity crackles around her wrist in time with the flagging musicians.

"I just want some.. someone.." Her bottom lip bunches up and begins to tremble, her face flushing a slight hint of red as she takes in a sniff. Yes. She could already feel her eyes burn. "..someone to sing me a soong.." She lets out a soft little squeak, and by the time her arm is seized by Jenny, Jean was full blown crying. Yes, it could be construed as having one too many, being tired and fighting it, adrenaline but not, all the empathy of fear and sorrow and happiness and sadness, mostly sadness, less aggressiveness.. it all packs into a mess of emotions that have no where else to go but into the tears of the feeler, and on Jenny's shoulder.

Crackling or not, Jean could stand a jolt or two, for she leans heavily upon the dark-skinned woman and outright sobs. She was a mess. Clothes were tattered, skin slightly tanned for a ginger, and well, all out snot and tears, ugly Claire Danes crying aboot. "You're going to sing to me right? Cause.. I just want to hear something special for once.." Cue coherent babbling. Jean was down for the count.

Kaleb might complain later that he woke up withthe back of his hand in someone's spilled drink, and also may question his roommate how he got gum in his hair. Presently the sonic was tapped out. Bitching may ensue later, but if we are all honest? It will over something anyways as New Jersey is still around.

The end to the music and the violation of many fire codes will shut down the Bitter End for a few weeks. Never mind the electrical storm in the air. Whatever caused this, it's apparently satisfied now. Or ended, hard to say which applies.

The conscious audience members depleted of energy aren't moving anywhere fast, or even moving. They lean against one another, held up by inertia more than anything. Even the halest of folks are going to sleep long and spend Sunday staring listlessly at the wall, unable to summon up much mental energy. Soulstuff takes time to replenish.

Those who are asleep? Well, that's more of an issue. They don't awaken from their swoon when shaken up. And that door is still barred from the outside with a sign reading ASK WHAT YOU CAN DO FOR YOUR COUNTRY. A small green sigil in the corner probably goes without notice, just a blob of ink with wriggly little ink tentacles.

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