Man In The Mirror

The television at this bar showed various commercials that plagued the airtime between whatever program happened to be on. It was slow, and everyone that wasn't dancing or sitting at their own booths ended up scattered over at the bar. Darlet was minding his own business tonight, this was a place he hadn't found himself in before. A dancer, Phoenix, called out sick that day and the owner was less than enthusiastic about it, although that's just what he picked up from bar staff chatter. Smoking indoors seemed fair play, and half of the patrons were grinding on one another. Not the usual venue that Darlet would find for himself, seeing that any conversation would end up in a hookup. He was more worried about the alcohol at the moment, which was actually pretty good tonight. 

He almost didn't notice when someone slipped into the seat beside him. They seemed to lean across the counter and grab a bottle of something without asking. Pouring their own shot before replacing the liquor they'd snatched. He took the time to study the man that had made himself comfortable at his side. Their ears had plenty of piercings, they put his own puny rings to shame. Adorning his arm was a long detailed tattoo, and he wore a pair of baggy pants to match his just as loose shirt. Lastly, he noticed the similarities they shared. The long clawed fingers that held the shot glass, the wide glutton shaped horns. The piercing eyes staring right at him. Wait. What.

"If ya keep looking I may have to charge." He spoke, which made Darlet jump slightly. He felt a bit guilty looking, but how could he not when the man chose to be right next to him. "You seem lost. I ain't never seen you here before, and from the looks of it you haven't seen me before either. Which is kinda funny cause I'm here all the fuckin time." He took another drink from the glass before holding it out. "Name's Lark. You got a voice or just a stupid face?" 

Darlet had to process his next move before he made it. This guy seemed alright so far, and if anything he may be the only person in here that he might actually feel like talking to outside of the bartenders. "Darlet. I'd say my voice gets me a lot farther than my face in most cases. But you seem to have the looks down in this case. I was honestly just wondering why you dress like you're wearing your older brother's hand-me-downs." He shot back, clanking his glass into Larks before downing the liquid left in the bottom.

The music in the club changed, and a few buns seemed to flee the bar to the dance floor. Leaving the two of them in relative peace. They enjoyed their drinks for a few seconds before Lark pressed a finger into the counter, scratching at the wood mindlessly. "You ain't the dancing type? Every other bitch in here looks to at dancefloor for a date. Guess you came here just to drink and look like a punk band's poster right?" He chuckled to himself, staring down Darlet with a side eye. 

Darlet quite liked his style. Insults got you everywhere. "I dunno. You seem like the type that picks up lonely drunks with low self esteem. But I am pretty in love with myself, so that trick won't work that easy." He wagged a finger at the bartender to get a refill. "And I fucking love to dance, but I like singing more. The punk band is all me all the time. This just isn't my style of music. Well, not for dancing." He lifted the glass up as the liquor fell into place, filling the empty space inside. 

Lark turned to face Darlet fully this time. His yellow pupils dilating as he studied the others features more thoroughly. "Hmm. So you mean I could make you scream, and it might sound pretty nice." Darlet turned his head to this, only to witness Lark licking at his lips hungrily. "You may be right that I'd pick up drunks with low self esteem. But I really like the cocky drunks that have a little fight in them." He laid his head down on his folded arms. Staring up at Darlet expectantly for a reaction. 

Where the hell did this guy come from? It was like Darlet was going one to one with a himself from a different universe. "Make me scream? I don't know, you may have to convince me a little more. I like making sweet music, but a couple dirty vocals can make for a nice song too." Most times Darlet was the one to initiate flirting like this, but it was feeling like he was the one being chased this time. It was both jarring and exciting. He wanted to play hard to get, and at the same time he was liking the game. Maybe a few more drinks before he made any sudden decisions. 

Lark smiled a toothy grin. His gaze followed the spread of the veins on Darlet's cheek, his eyes swirling and focusing on the markings as he spoke. "I'd dirty your vocals. I don't think your throat will get clean for a while." He reached a hand out mindlessly to trace the veins with a clawed finger, feeling the shiver that Darlet let out as the needle point dragged over his skin. "What are these supposed to be for? Is it a tattoo? Cause that shit must've hurt real bad." He lost track of his flirting, entranced by the orange branching lines. 

The loss for words that hit Darlet was a feeling that he'd never felt before. So effortlessly, he had lowered his defences until the claw met his face. Feeling the lines being drawn over his cheek and down to his neck made him forget where he was and what he was doing. Part of that may have been the drinks kicking in. "Uh. No. Not uh. Not tattoos." He cleared his throat, turning his head to get away from the hand that seemed to melt all of his confidence. "I uh. My caretaker. Was a demon with these colors." He almost felt like he could save himself until he felt a tug at the chain of his collar. 

"Ooh? Special aren't we. Just because it isn't a tattoo doesn't make it any less interesting. Tell me. How much of you does it cover?" Lark was not letting him escape. The look in Darlet's eyes was akin to fear. Not a sight he was unfamiliar with, but this was not the kind of fear he usually got looked at with. More like, he was winning this tug of war. "If you want. I can find out myself, and you can save that sweet voice of your's a little bit longer."

The sound of a glass being placed down hard on the counter by one of the bartenders broke both of their concentration. "Nice little show you've put on for us. But can you please pay your bill before you two end up fucking on our counters. We have a business to run and you can do this somewhere else." Lark sneered a little, but stopped when he heard laughing. He let go of the collar and looked back at the other. Darlet dropped a hand full of carats on the counter and spun from his seat. 

"Haah. Sorry, sorry. Uh. Lark was it? They are right. We should probably get the hell out of here before anything else happens. I don't want to get kicked out on my first visit." Darlet stood up. Kicking his feet a few times to get the feeling back in his legs. That was close. He was about to crack, and had the bartenders not stopped them, he wasn't sure exactly what would have come out of his mouth next. He spun on his heel to face Lark, who was standing inches from his face. He had to plant himself firm as to not jump out of his skin for the third time tonight. "Thank you. For keeping me company. That was fun." He put on an earnest smile, which didn't seem sufficient for Lark who stared at him with a disappointed expression. Darlet couldn't help but sigh and lean in, opening his mouth say something. But instead, he nipped softly on the tip of Larks nose. Causing the taller man to move back slightly in surprise. "Heh. Cute. Fine. You got me this time. But you gotta keep that act up if you want this and to keep that win."