1965-03-13 - That Boy Can Sing
Summary: Calvin comes back to the bar to meet with Doug again, Doug introduces him Jay. Jay performs and the whole club is mesmerized.
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
jay douglas mimic 


Calvin was invited back to see the supposedly very pretty house singer but he came back mostly to see the pretty bar owner. He swaggers back to Club Atomic, this time at key hours but a week day hopefully makes it more manageable. It was a bar in Mutant Town though, so he bets that it will still be jumping with mutants and powers will be surging through him the moment he steps foot in this bar. He takes a deep breath before he moves through the doors, he thinks about holding it, a lot of good it will do him, but a childish thought invades to make him think that might prevent him from taking on all the powers but he smiles and shakes his head at myself as he makes a bee line for the bar.

Alcohol, though, that would help. So he makes his way there instead, looking at the bartender and asking for Doug, waiting to see if it comes out in a language not his own to tell him that Doug was nearby.

Doug is in tonight! He's sitting at a booth, because he's the owner and he can do that, with his feet up. He has a beer in front of him, and he's still reading Romance of the Three Kingdoms, in Mandarin. He turns a page, absolutely riveted — he hasn't seen Calvin yet though.

When Calvin goes to order a beer, it comes out in Mandarin Chinese and that makes Calvin smile wide. He's here. He's here somewhere. He pulls a pen from his pocket, writes down 'two beers' on a bar napkin and pushes it to the bartender. When the bartender places the beers down on the counter, one is summoned to his hand. Ah, telekinesis. Someone in this bar had it. He takes the second one quickly so that he doesn't immediately summon it as well. He wanders the bar, looking for that familiar head of hair. When he goes to take a drink from the first beer, it freezes over, and he curses… in French, he thinks. So many mutants.

He should have known he could find the linguist reading in his bar. "Is this really how you like to spend your nights, honey? Reading?" He asks, in lilting Spanish this time as he seats himself across from Doug and hands him the second beer. "I came back."

Doug looks up, and his eyes shine with amusement. "Well no, sometimes I dig into really chewy books." He says. "I'm just waiting for the band to get going." He smirks, and gestures to the booth across from him. "I see that you did." He says, before he puts the beer next to him, he hasn't finished his first one yet, so he sets to doing that. "You might uh, want to make room for yourself. You can't control the powers you copy?" He asks, before he says, "We have the best musician in Mutant Town."

That opinion makes Jay go modest every time, but to be honest, he loves it, and it helps him push towards the day someone will say he's the best in Manhattan. In New York. In the world.

Ah, pipe dreams.

Speaking of the red-headed Guthrie, he appears from the stairway a few moments later. His jacket ditched with the rest of the employees' gear, the fiery pair of wings appear above his head as Jay squeezes through the crowd, greeting people he knows and people he doesn't as he makes toward the stage and hops right on with an easy looking smile. His voice just barely picks up on the mic as he turns his head toward it, that southern twang resonates throughout. "Whew, did y'all miss me?"

"You know, I think I've read a study somewhere that books are in fact, not a part of a balanced diet. No worries though, honey. I happen to have a wallet and a keen desire to feed you, if you would be so kind as to accompany me to dinner one of these nights." It's not as smooth as he means it to be. It's hard when you're on edge with all of these mutations thrumming through your body. "I can't cut off what I get no, I take it all. Why do I need to make room? Am I about to grow a tail? I didn't see anyone with one in here. Why do you…"

It's just before that southern voice hits the mic that wings, red ones that mimic the pretty man's on the stage rip through his shirt, tearing the tightly fit blue fabric to tatters as he leans forward and muffles a groan because it's not as if growing two new limbs comes easily. He grips the edge of the table they're seated at and it grows hot beneath his hand before he pulls it away for fear of setting it on fire. Pyrokenesis too, huh? Damn, every little elemental mutant is out tonight. "That's why, huh?" He grunts looking up at Doug across the table and still managing to smile before he jerks his head towards the stage. "I think he might wear these a whole lot better than I do." He tries to turn attention towards Jay so that Doug won't see he's /panting/ in pain.

Doug winces. "Yeah, that's why." He says. "Here." He gets up, to help Mimic out of the booth, "Stretch them out a little bit before they cramp. His do, if he folds them for too long. Come on." He moves to help Cal up, and says, "I'd love to go out with you sometime, but the guy on the stage wants to meet you first." He says, "…Though it's gonna get a little awkward if you're going to sprout wings every time you get close to him. Huh." He shakes his head, and says, "One second, Cal—"

Somebody whistles at the stage and calls out 'Take it OFF!' …It might've been Doug. Can't prove nothin'.

That's a quick way to definitely get someone to avoid you! Be in searing pain every time they come near you. He's not wrong, though. If anyone knows about the nuances about wing ownership that nobody thinks about and Jay doesn't want to tell anyone about, it's Doug. Sorta hard to hide stuff from him, after all.

Hey, at least you didn't sproud a new gland by your taint, Cal. /You're welcome/.

Jay chuckles in a whisper in front of the mic, letting it carry the spirit of the sound onward as he rolls up his sleeves and shoves them to his elbows. Leaning in the murmur down into the mic, his hair hanging in loose scarlet arcs framing his face. "Sheesh, at least buy me a drink first. Ah'm a traditional sort of fellah that way. Like Momma always said; get the money up front." Joking around while he tunes up his guitar and peers out over the crowd, past the house lights with a squint.

Calvin looks around to make sure he's got enough room that he isn't going to knock someone's beer over and start a riot. His newly borrowed pyrokinetic talents are suddenly a lot more concerning now that he's become at least fifty percent more flamable and it would be just his luck that he hit the guy who can spit fire balls. Once sure he's got enough room, those red wings stretch out with ease, as if the blonde had had them his entire life. He knows precisely how to use them, he could go for a flight right now and he can't lie, the idea of being close to the singer grows on him quick if it meant he could go for flights.

"Why would I need to meet him? Is he your body guard or somethi- Oh. Are you seeing the pretty bird on stage, Doug?" He begins, letting the feathers shiver. This was nice, so nice. He doesn't seem to even mind the pain that came with receiving the wings. "Think he could teach me to fly?" Excitement easily creeps into his tone, like a child just about to be set loose in a candy shop.

Doug puts his finger over his mouth, and then says, "You'd have to ask him." He smirks, and pats Calvin on the back, "They look good on you. Too bad your shirt's ruined. What a tragedy. Like Lear." Then he snaps his fingers and points to a passing waiter, and gestures to the stage. The waiter shakes his head.

A moment later, someone brings Jay a cold beer. Hey, he said…

The beer arrives on stage and Jay laughs softly again, bending down to accept it and quickly ask who sent it his way. Of course it was Doug. An amused smile flashes over his lips as his attention is pointed in the direction of Doug's table. Jay shields his eyes from the house lights with a hand and squints to look that way, lifting the beer up with low, "Cheers." into the mic.

And then he catches a glimpse of feathers. Not just feathers, but *wings*. Something in his chest clenches the very same as the first time he saw Michael's wings. Oh jesus, is that another angel? Or another mutant like him and Warren? Except…you know…some socialite asshole didn't use him like a disection experiment. Jay swiftly unplugs his guitar and mumbles, "S'cuse me." into the mic as he rushes off the stage, practically stumbling over himself to make it through the crowd in their direction.

Calvin pulls the remainder of the fabric from his body, setting the tattered remains of his shirt on the table. Hey, as far as anyone knows, maybe he just got way too excited about Jay's performance and tore his clothes off prematurely and he doesn't really think that the linguist here is complaining at the sight of him bare chested in the middle of his bar. "Ask him to teach me to fly or ask him if during his spare time he likes kissin' you?" Calvin teases, letting his eyes drop down to the linguist lower lip and allowing it to linger there, hand lightly grazes Doug's slim waist, before he gives his focus back to the gorgeous feathered man on stage who is now hopping off it and coming in their direction. "Oh, well, hell, here's my chance, huh?"

"Huh, I wasn't expecting that. Normally you can't get Jay Guthrie off stage for fire, flood, or mayhem." He watches Jay push through the crowd, and then stands aside a bit to make room, since both Jay and right now Cal take up a lot of space. "Jay, Cal. Cal, Jay." He gestures to the two. "Jay, Cal unconsciously copies other mutants' powers. Right now, one of the powers he's copying are yours. Surprise!"

Jay's wings are lifted up and away from his shoulders, trying to compress into a narrow path, but his excitement is articulating through those extra appendages loud enough for anyone who speaks 'bird' to understand, but particularly clear to Doug and, by extension, Calvin. Call it 'flocking instinct' if you must, but Jay has a history of excitement when he finds physical flyers. Feathered ones, in particular. The sense of not being so alone is, well, comforting. Beer still in hand and completely forgotten about, the young man's eyes are wide and bright, shocked elation coming off him in flickering waves mostly articulated through a shivering whisper of feathers behind him as he stops just before the two older mutants.

Jay's attention flicks between Cal and Doug. Cal and Doug. Cal. And Doug. A gentle disappointment simmers his elation, replaced by a kind smile as his wings gently lower. "Oh. /Oh/," the second full of recognition as he looks back to Doug, popping his brows up for confirmation.

"Yer a mimic, like Hope, then. Sorry, Ah didn't mean to rush over like a fool. Ah just saw the wings an' got excited. An' sorry…" There's an empathetic wince to Calvin as Jay reaches out a hand. "Fer yer shirt. An' if that was uncomfortable. That's mah fault. It's nice t'meet you."

Calvin elatedly shakes Jay's hand. "Nah, I'm sorry I'm not the real thing. I really wish I was. I'd always loved winged mutants but I'm particularly abrasive, usually. Don't keep a lot of company to get to try them out." Red wings that mimic Jay's shiver a little in excitement. "Don't apologize to me, gorgeous, these are incredible, the benefits outweigh the pain, it was minimal in comparison to having /wings/." He squeezes Jay's hand that he's been shaking aggressively this entire time and finally releases it.

"Doug here tells me that you have to meet me before I take him to dinner, but I also have a proposal for you as well. I'd like to still take Doug to dinner with your consent, but can I arrange a date with you and the sky as well? I'd love to fly with you, Jay." He casts his eyes over at Doug smiling widely. He's a step from begging 'please, please, please' like a child desperate to play outside or for a new toy. He doesn't even seem to care that the pair of them may or may not be an item now. With Doug, he can speak a thousand languages and understand everything about everything and with Jay he could fly. "With /your/ consent for my proposal here to your handsome angel friend, of course, honey." He tells Doug.

Doug considers this, and looks between Jay and Cal, before he says, "Good God, It's like I'm back in Amsterdam." He shrugs his shoulders and says, "Okay, but Jay?" Doug puts his hand on Calvin's arm and looks up at Jay, "There's a whole bunch of people waiting for you up on stage." He pauses, and then says… "You know what? I've got this." He turns, to head for the stage himself. "Hey Charlie." He says, to the piano player, "…I'm gonna warm up the crowd tonight. Get out the sheet music for Little Brown Jug" He says, before he turns, and clears his throat into the mic. "Hey everyone… we all having a good time? Jay's having an emergency, uh, molt—" Laughter, "So I'm gonna lead the crowd in a few verses of something special."

He waits for the band to get going. "But the rule is, you have to sing along with the chorus. Everybody ready?" He clears his throat again.

"When I was a little bitty boy
Grandma bought me a cute little toy
Two silver bells, hangin' on a string…"

He waits, pause for breath,


Dear lord, is he forward or what?

Jay recoils a little bit while his hand is being shaken, eyes flicking back and forth once again between Mimic and Cypher, his body language screaming loud and clear that he's definitely more of the traditional sort and it's all taking him a little by surprise. Feathers lift and shiver apart, his mouth gaping open as Doug flees to hop up on stage in his stead. "Dougie, but, uh—" Nope. Nope, there he goes.

The confident, self-assured fellow up on the stage is definitely more subdued when out from under the lights and smiles, bashfully when Doug says he's had an emergency molt. He ducks his head and settles a hand over his eyes, mumbling, "Good lord…" to himself. Always with the molting jokes. Alas. He sighs and shakes his head with a tendered shake of his head. Attention swinging back to Cal.

"Well. Ah mentioned t'Doug that Ah'd like t'meet you, when he said someone came by an' was sniffin' around." Jay explains, trying to get back to the matter more or less. He gestures back to the booth they were at formerly. Right up until Doug breaks out in that song, and Jay twists around to look toward the stage, chuckling gently. "Oh, yer kiddin' me…"

Calvin shakes his head up at the linguist on the stage. Well, it was his bar, he could run all the business out of it if he wanted to, Calvin supposes. "Sniffing around, hm? Is that what he called it?" Calvin chuckles at the terms Jay picked. Not offended, surprisingly. Little things like that may have set him off once upon a time, and they might still, would he had more alcohol in his system but for now at least, his temper doesn't bother to flare. There was too much to be excited over right now.

"I wasn't aware that he was with someone." Calvin says, not saying 'seeing you' because they are in a crowded bar, it's the 60s and Jay seems like the reserved type. Maybe he's gleaming that from body language. Body language he's able to read because he's still so close to Doug. "He just told me I should come back to the bar to see you perform, which I still need to do. You owned that stage while you were on it, Jay, I'll bet you come alive when you perform. Doug was singing your praises hard about it and I highly doubt he was lying."


Don't hate, this is a classic, Chuck Berry's going to make it famous in 1971. And when people've been drinking, it's a /scream/.

"Then my mama took me off to Sunday School,
And they tried to teach me the Golden Rule,
But every time the choir would sing,

Hey, he's having fun.

"Oh!" A ripple of surprise and reassurance quickly flows through Jay as he turns back to Calvin, realizing how his choice in words sounded. A brush of an apologetic smile touches his expression. "No, not so specifically. Jus' said someone was flirtin' with him—Jesus, Doug." Trying to stifle a smile, Jay props his elbow up on the table and covers his mouth with a curl of his fingers while Doug's up on stage singing loudly about his ding-a-ling. Verdant eyes shining with humor, loud and clear, there's a thrum of affection somewhere in there as well.

Shaking his head, Jay turns back to Calvin, his smile holding on, strong. "Takin' it slow." He explains gently, but nods, confirming that Doug is in fact seeing someone. Keeping it as on the down low as he can while being honest. No shame reflected in his demeanor, just caution. Modestly dipping his head in thanks. "It's what Ah love—performin'." Along with the man singing about his ding-a-ling on stage. "Once he finishes singin' about playin' with his ding-a-ling, Ah'll get up and you'll get t'see it. An', fer what it's worth, if you were genuine about wantin' to go flyin', it'd be mah pleasure. Ah don't get many opportunities these days to go flyin' with someone."

Doug makes his way through the song, occasionally pausing to gently tease the crowd and encourage the call and response of the song. Finally he gets to his final verse—

"Oh this little song,
It ain't at all sad,
The sweetest lil' song that you ever had,
But those of you, who will not sing…"

He pauses, and says into the mic, "And you KNOW who you are…"


"Taking it slow, but he invites a sniffer around to meet you. I don't intend to step on anything the two of you do have, Jay. If you aren't comfortable with me taking him somewhere, I won't." Calvin says, wings pulling in, close to his back as he sits across from the other feathered man in the room. Maybe once, he'd be willing to smash up anything to get what he wanted, but school had taught him he could earn things without destroying others to get there, school taught him a level of patience that life couldn't, that his father, god rest his soul, couldn't. "I was. By the way, geunine about flying. It's the one thing I've always wished I could keep, the wings. These will cease to exist once we're far enough apart, but as long as I stayed close enough to you in the sky, I could fly with you. I would absolutely love that, without it needing to be anything but us flying." Without it needing to be a /date/ is what he's stressing.

"I can't wait, Doug talks you up something fierce, so it's bound to be heart stopping watching you perform." There, a little flirtation creeps back into his voice but it's not as aggressive as before. He heard Jay when he said he and Doug were taking it slow. He heard his body when it spoke shock at Calvin coming on so strong. He could take direction. Even non verbal and dials it back to a three.

Jay just about groans when Calvin calls himself a sniffer again, a glimpse of his smile coming in brighter in embarrassment. "Yer not gonna let me ferget that fer a while are ya?" His tone full of good-natured humor rather than offense. He can take a ribbing. "Well, Ah asked t'meet ya. Doug wants to take it slow, so it's slow. An' it's okay, Ah think. We're jus', y'know" Jay glances back to the stage while Doug stirs up the crowd. The omnilinguist distracted. Jay's smile persistent and serene. "datin' a little." The younger man straightens his posture and returns his attention to the fellow with the matching crimson wings. "Whatever makes him happiest." Through his easy smile there seems to be the inclusion of futility. Like he expects Doug to eventually find that 'happiest' without him.

"How close do you gotta be t'keep it up? It'd be cool t'go on a fly some time." Jay agrees, seemingly more comfortable when Calvin cools it a little bit. "Haven't had anyone t'fly with in a bit, like Ah said." Waiting for the end of that song to hit, he whistles shrilly for Doug and his goofy song.

"Thank you! Buy beer!" Doug says, holding up a hand, as he heads down from the stage. "Well, that was fun! I should embarass myself more often." He looks over ath the other two, and then exhales, "Still taking, uh boy." He rubs the back of his neck, and goes to get another beer, and stands there, drinking it. You know, it's funny — he told Sam the same thing… he expects Jay to outgrow him.

"Only because it makes you blush and red is definitely your color, Feathers." Calvin teases a little with a wink. There's some unspoken tension in the angel's face, a worry that Calvin can understand, fear of abandonment. "You know, he asked me to come back here and meet you when I was trying to take him home with me, and I only got to talking to him because he was worried about getting left behind and needed a stranger to let it out on. I don't think you're the one who needs to be worried sw- Jay." Dial it to a three, Rankin, a /three/. "He cares about you a lot. He's scared of you leaving him, I'm pretty sure." When did this turn into another bar therapy session? When did Calvin become an unspoken therapist for people he just wanted to bang? He smiles to himself at the change, the craziness to it all. "You got wings, b- Jay. You're prone to flying."

A /three/, Calvin Montgomery.

"Ten feet. I need to stay within ten feet to keep it. Makes flying a little scary." He admits with a smile that says he doesn't have any fear of it at all, bit of a daredevil this one.

A three's good, Cal. A three's good. And that serious tone that the conversation takes on is delved into swiftly for a moment. Jay taking a thoughtful moment to peer at the stranger across the way while he nurses his beer a little bit. Eyes eventually drifting to the borrowed wings. A light push of his lips, curving to a smile when Cal says that he's prone to flying. Amused at the irony. "Bar therapy, eh?" Ah, the age old way that men get shit off their chest.

"Ten feet's cuttin' it pretty close…" Jay squints, wincing. Mah wing span is more than that. So's yers by my guess. Ah dunno how those logistics would work out exactly. But, Ah mean, if yer willin' to try, the good news is if we get too far apart an' ya drop, Ah'm practiced with catchin' folks." A bit of gallows humor there for him. Not to mention that he'd fuckin' heal instantly so long as Jay was close enough.

Lifting his head up to look for Doug, smiling lightly. "Ah think we scared him off. Ah better get up there before the boss has mah ding-a-ling in the ringer. It was nice t'meetcha Calvin." Pushing up to his feet, Jay takes his beer with him as he heads to the bar—or, more specifically, to Doug. "Playin' with yer ding-a-ling, huh?" The winged young man chuckles, then drops back most of his beer, reaching over to set it on the bar, murmuring by 'happenstance' to Doug, 'I'll be more than happy t'play with yers, Sneaky.' Withdrawing with a seemingly innocent smile that lingers on Doug. He might not be able to touch him in a crowded bar, but there's definitely the impression he would before he heads back toward the stage.

Calvin nods when Jay stands. "And you as well, Jay." Bar therapy was exactly the best place for men to get shit off their chests, especially to a stranger who probably won't remember their name tomorrow. He watches the pair of them converse, how close Jay was willing to get to the linguist and realizes he might be stepping on something good here if he waltzes in. The mimic pulls in a breath as the wings crumble back into his back, melting back into his skin, just as painful as growing them once Jay's far enough away. He takes that beer and drains it to contend with the pain before he throws a wad of money down on the booth before he straightens up to watch Jay perform. He promised he would, after all.

Doug looks between the two, and drains his beer. He can't help but feel like he's an awkward and embarassed spot, and not just because he sang to a bar full of people about his ding-a-ling-a-ling. But still, he grins at Jay, and then he turns to look at Calvin and winks at him.

Jay smiles back at Doug and takes a step back, then shrugs mildly with a harmless cant of his head to the side. "Seems all raght." Seemingly in regard to Cal before he languidly turns away for the stage. Suddenly, Calvin's melting back down into just a topless dude in winter in a bar. Jay looks over, his brows popping upward at the blond fellow with a curious little smile back at him. He mouths the word, 'sorry' to him, and seems honest to god genuine about it. Wings shivering in a sympathetic gesture as he steps back on the stage and back to where he was before. "Hey y'all. How'd y'like playin' with Doug's ding-a-ling?" He chuckles softly. "Yeah. Sounds about right. Anyone interested in playin' with it later can leave their name at the bar, Ah hear." Winking playfully at the crowd while he straps up and turns back to the house band for a quick consensus.

Striking them up, they roll right into 'You Really Got Me' by the Kinks.

Cal returns Doug's wink and waves Jay's apology off as if absolutely wasn't a big deal. Pain is pain, it comes and goes just as quickly as it does. Nothing alcohol can't fix. He just hopes he can get home without giving himself frostbite on his nipples, is all. He can probably steal someone's coat in this club without them noticing.

Jay is every bit as good as Doug had said he would be and Calvin's eyes don't leave him the entire time that he performs, captivated entirely, swaying a little to the beat. Doug hadn't talked him up at all. He really was unbelievable.

Douglas is watching Jay, too, over his beer, eyes riveted on him — though eventually he makes his way over to Calvin, and says, "…So you two going out for a flight later?" He asks, before he takes a sip of his beer, and says, "…Look. I do still want to go out with you. You're a great guy. But is it gonna be okay—" He gestures, to Jay, "Because… I dunno. I mean…" He grins, and has a naughty thought. Two sets of wings…

Jay proves Calvin right as far as his comfort level under the lights. Modest, somewhat easily embarrassed Jay flourishes there. His wings eking away from his back, spreading out into a shimmering vermillion backdrop as he plays with the house band, yanking the mic off the stand to rock that easy-rolling tune with the other members, all smiles while he shoves his hair away from his face, letting the other guitarist take lead during the solo. He pours himself into the song and eventually, his voice splits and takes on the harmony and melody, together in one. It's a trick the regulars are used to by now while he shares the stage with his fellow musicians.

"Which part, baby?" Back up to a nine with Doug who has yet to exhibit any bristling from Calvin's blatant flirtation. "The wings explodin' out my back aren't a problem, the pain is minute compared to /having/ wings. I'm more worried about steppin' on somethin' good you've got going here and you later regretting it. He thinks you wanna leave him, you think he wants to leave you, you're both uneasy right now and I'm not trying to tip you over the edge, no matter how bad I want to kiss you or find out how many languages I can get you to moan for me." And he does drop his voice for all that filthy talk, careful that no one but Doug hears. "Or how much I'd love to make him sing for me in another way." He nods towards Jay who is goddamn beautiful on stage. That was where he belonged. He owned it, like the whole building was built just for him. It was hypnotic. Calvin swallows hard when he realizes his mouth is half open and he hasn't spoken for a minute.

"What I want and what you need, two different things, honey. And I don't want to trample all over a good thing. I might have once," He admits, reaching briefly for Doug's hand, if he's given it, he runs his thumb along the inside of his wrist, along his pulse point there. "Wouldn't have cared about who I'm hurting, what the collateral is. If this, me seeing you, me taking you out, me coming 'round to flirt with you is gonna hurt what you've got, I don't want it, Doug. You been hurt a lot." He remembers, he listened to you, Doug. "I don't want to be the cause of any more of it. 'less you like it rough, then that's a different story."

Doug thinks about that, for a time, and then he says, "…That's something Jay and I have to work out together I guess." He says, before he mutters, "My mutant power is speakin' spanish, not a healing factor." He bites his bottom lip, and then says, "Well, you've certainly got me thinking about it. Now if only Jay would take his shirt off, between the two of you, I'd have to go upstairs to get some ice and call it a night." He grins, somewhat dopey. "…Anyway, be careful what you ask for, I'm full of surprises."

Jay can attest to that one.

If he weren't busy accidentally making people drool while he finishes up one rock song by a British band, laughing softly as the drummer has a little fun with it, Jay steps aside and lets him have his moment. Drummers, man. He lets the crowd simmer a moment from that high energy song, confering with the others, muted voices making muted sounds. Jay winces a little bit and shakes his head, but is pushed on by the house band before relenting.

"Okay, folks, let's bring it down a bit, how's that for ya?" And sighs, breathing up from the depths of his chest as he comes up to the mic stand with a reluctant air. Fingers flexing. Then setting to the task of dancing along the strings with a complex strumming in a minor, soulful tone. Instantly recognizable for a few bars before Jay bows his head over the mic and starts to soulfully sing into it on his own. Somehow, the haunting tune seems…all the more maudlin coming off him as he starts in on 'House of the Rising Sun' by the Animals. The puffs of breath off those prolonged notes audible, as if dragged from the very depths of his soul as Jay rocks back and forward again.

"Damn, your boy can sing. He's a moving work of art." Calvin says, unabashedly shaken by Jay's performance, by his voice. He looks over at Doug, eyes drawing to his lower lip when he bites it even if that wasn't what Doug was aiming for. "Yeah, your mutation is speaking Spanish, and I love it. Love being able to…" He switches to another now, back to Mandarin. "Being able to tell you how if I weren't such a considerate man, I'd drag you back with me to your little office and screw you over every available surface and absolutely no one but you and I knows what I just said to you." All that talk would make Satan blush, Calvin Rankin. He switches back to English, pulls Doug's hand close and gives it a squeeze before he releases it. "You're just as incredible, Doug."

Doug is quiet. Then he says, simply put, "Who says you'd be in charge, Cal?" He looks up at the stage, and says, "I'm gonna go upstairs. Tell wings I'm waiting for him. If you two can work something out…?" He raises his eyebrows, and tilts his chin upward in a faint hint of what exactly they should work out, before he leaves to go upstairs.

Blissfully unaware of the dirty talk the two are engaging in on the floor, Jay works on seducing the mic and bringing the rest of the crowd to tears simultaneously as he dredges up every bare nerve he has and lays them end to end on stage in front of the bar of mutants. His wings hover large and present behind him while Doug slips away. This is what therapy looks like; musical version.

When he finishes, Jay hovers there a moment before opening his eyes and wetting his lips, turning away and back to the band to consult again. Y'all a bunch of jerks. But he did it and nods few times in emphasis. It's all good.

He's still got another couple songs in this set before he can fuck off for a break. Some of us still work around here.


Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License