It was the perfect way to spend a night off—nursing an Old Fashioned and listening to jazz. For once, the surgical mask was off so that the prawn could take occasional sips of whiskey. Perhaps it was the warm light was that spilled out onto the bar that made Jack comfortable enough to the mouth-covering.  Perhaps it was the general lax attitude towards mutants at "Looking Glass". Or perhaps it was that Jack was teetering on the very thin line between a little tipsy and slightly drunk. Whatever the cause, Jack reasoned that she wasn’t bothering anybody, so no one had any cause to be bothered by her. She sat towards the right end of the bar, dressed in a fitted, black tank and cargo shorts. Her feet rested flat upon the ground, and her arms lightly planted on the bar. Occasionally, the bartender would approach her, offering her another drink, had she finished the first one. Otherwise, she was left alone.


Live jazz gushed from a band to her back, filling the room. The prawn hadn't paid them too much attention, but she let the rippling music flood her senses. Jack took another swig of her drink. Very relaxing. Her mind, hazy with whiskey, wandered through simple musings-- Am I committing treason, by drinking at another club? Jack fumbled with the idea, rubbing the chitinous ridge between her eyes as she pondered and breathing a sigh. After a few minutes of consideration, she concluded, Nah, they play different music... so different people come here. Not Chrysalis people. It's not even a competition. 

Reassured, the prawn twitched her large maxillipeds contentedly, and took another sip. This was a fantastic revelation, because none of the bartenders at "Chrysalis" made an Old Fashioned as well as this bartender did.

The Looking Glass, he had been told, was one of the number one spots for mutants to gather and relax in New York. The jazz club boasted a standard menu of snacks but a much bigger menu of alcohol. Though it wasn't the alcohol Victor was coming for. It was the music. The orange mutant didn't dance to it often but he was familiar with the tune. Jazz reminded him of his grandfather and perhaps a little of chicha cumbia.

So that's where Victor found himself wondering into, glancing around the cozy setting. The band was playing something nice and bouncy, making his toes tap along to the beat. Lord in heaven he could feel it in his spine, familiar sensation of want to move. But toe tapping was as far as it got. Perhaps after a few drinks he'd be up for trying to dance again.

Heading over to the bar after showing his ID, he found himself seated next to prawn looking gentlemen. Well they might have been a man, he really couldn't tell. It might have just been the mutation covering their gender. It wouldn't be the first time he had a case of mistaken identity.

He ordered a beer, trying not to think of what it might do to his new body, then introduced himself. "Uh, hi...Sorry if I'm bothering you, it's been a while since I've been out and well...I'm Victor, nice to meet you." he held out his hand, trying not to seem as awkward as he felt. Things like this had felt so much easier when he was a kid. Then again, he wasn't a big orange mutant back then. Still, this was another physical mutant like him, so maybe they could get along for tonight and he wouldn't feel so lonely.

The sound of approaching footsteps snagged her attention, and the young woman opened her eyes. Her head was rested on the palm of her hand, supported by a single elbow on the countertop. The individual that approached seemed quite draconic. A few more limbs than most, all clawed. Horns. Orange. It took her a moment to find his eyes... er, eye... which rested at the end of what Jack had expected to be his snout.

Jack politely looked away as the enormous mutant sat beside her, shifting her her weight slightly. This guy was huge-- which said something, given Jack's seven-and-a-half foot stature.

>> "Uh, hi...Sorry if I'm bothering you, it's been a while since I've been out and well...I'm Victor, nice to meet you."

Jack arched her brow, causing the scales above both eyes to raise. How unexpected. This guy-- despite his impressive stature and extensive mutation-- spoke like a timid teenager. Or, perhaps it was because of his stature and appearance. Jack hummed, her maxillae twitching. Even if she was off-put by his shyness, she wasn't going to be a jerk to him. Freaks had to stick together. The prawn dislodged her three-fingered hand from its place beneath her chin, clasping Victor's hand in a firm handshake.

"Jacquelyn," the prawn replied. She breathed in frustration, and quickly fished for the phone in her pocket. She could already feel the clumsiness of speech in her mouth, the joint powers of physiology and alcohol pushing her pronunciation into incomprehensible territories. She drew the phone out which, although massive, was dwarfed by her hands. With well-practiced accuracy, she typed a message, then held it up for Victor to survey.

<< It's a pleasure, Victor. I'm Jacquelyn, but I prefer Jack. Is it your first time here? >>

Accompanying the text was the robotic lilt of a female, faintly British voice wafting from the speakers. It was barely audible over the music, however, hence why Jack showed him the screen. The corner of her lavender eyes pinched. Perhaps it was the whiskey that ran through her system, or perhaps it was the ambiance. Perhaps it was the company of another freak-- but Jack was feeling slightly more sociable than usual.

The strangers grasp was firm, skin, shell perhaps, was colder than his own. An imitation of a real crustacean or maybe he was just warmer than he thought. He couldn't read their facial expression, if they even could have one. It didn't look like the arrangement of their head made communication easy. Though he was sure they had thought of something to over come that.

Victor had nearly missed at the strangers attempt to talk. Jack was the name he was sure he heard but he could have heard wrong. The other mutant seemed frustrated by their own mutterings and reached for their phone. He waited patiently for the other to type the quick message.

<< It's a pleasure, Victor. I'm Jacquelyn, but I prefer Jack. Is it your first time here? >>

He blinked and looked up at, well, her. He was sure now that this person was in fact female. "Ah, yeah, I heard some really good things about it. What about you? First time too or more of a regular?" he asked, trying to push down any questions that might have been considered rude. He may not have been out in a long time but still knew how to socialize...Mostly.

Following the introduction, the massive mutant man looked at her-- actually, truly looked at her, and seemed incredulous. That was the face she usually got. She didn't look a lady, didn't dress like a lady. Some people still didn't buy it, even if the prawn showed them her idea. This one seemed to take the information and run with it. Or, perhaps, ignore it entirely. It wasn't really crucial information, anyway.

The prawn threw back the remainder of her drink and sighed after swallowing it down. Her head spun a bit, but she didn't noticeably sway. As long as she didn't stand up, she'd be fine. Victor returned the question to her, and Jack tapped a response. A brief one, because the screen looked blurry, and it was the first reply that simmered to the top of her mind.

<< I come here more often than I would like to admit.>>

Jack laughed at the honesty of her own statement. She was here nearly every night that she had off. The music, the alcohol, it was a good energy to immerse yourself in. ...Albeit, she wasn't typically this drunk, but it was still a good time. The prawn stared a little too unflinchingly at Victor. When she realized this, her gaze dropped to the screen, and she typed another phrase.

<< It's a good place, with good quality music. They're pretty chill about mutants. And they make really good Old Fashioned's too.>>

These were fairly mportant details-- good music, good booze, and not d--ks to mutants-- for visibly-mutated clubgoers. The three golden requirements, if you would. This place wasn't a "Chrysalis", by any means, which capitalized on mutant and mutant-sympathetic patrons, but "Looking Glass" seemed alright, for the most part.

<< I come here more often than I would like to admit. It's a good place, with good quality music. They're pretty chill about mutants. And they make really good Old Fashioned's too.>>

He looked from her to the text and back again. She tended to stare at him a lot and he might have done the same to her. It was hard not to. Prawn woman or not, she was pretty in her own unique way and he was never one to discriminate with his heart.  Beer in hand he wondered how his body would take the alcohol. From his knowledge there wasn't too much alcohol in beer so it was probably safe to experiment with...Probably.

"Yeah, I really do like the music, though I'm not as familiar with the drinks as you seem to be. What's an Old Fashion?" In classic Latino fashion most of his drink knowledge tended toward beer and more fruit-styled alcohol. He was familiar with drinking at least, hard to avoid when grandfathers and uncles insist you have a taste even when you're underage.

Taking a swing of alcohol he was surprised by how much more it burned going down before feeling pleasantly warm. He might not have noticed it himself, but for Jack she would see his skin get a touch brighter. Fire and alcohol might not usually mix, but Victor was enjoying the sensation. He accidentally ended up downing the whole thing.

Man it felt good and all from one beer? He raised his hand for another. He wasn't a light-weight after all. Plus he was here to get loose and have a good time, this would help.

Jack gave a proud chirr when Victor complimented knowledge of drinks, but she hastily shook her head and flapped a hand dismissively, eyes smiling. Although she worked at a nightclub, her knowledge of drinks was limited. She knew what she liked and not much else. A few times, one bartenders at Chrysalis had attempted to give her "pro tips" about preparing alcoholic beverages, and to be honest, most of it went over her head.

>> "Yeah, I really do like the music, though I'm not as familiar with the drinks as you seem to be. What's an Old Fashion?"

Jack hummed and typed a brief response.

<<It's a whiskey drink,>> she replied, <<A classic one. With sugar, bitters... an orange slice... I don't know what else. But it's damn good.>>

The prawn arched her eyebrows as she watched Victor hastily consume the beer, and the tone of his skin dialed up a notch.

"Whoa-" the prawn said appreciatively. She caught herself a moment too late, clapping an embarrassed hand over her mouth. If there was one thing Jack loathed, it was being made a spectacle of. And there she was, oggling at some other mutant as his skin very noticeably shifted (at least, to her kean eyes). Jack glanced away, turning towards the bartender as he approached with a second beer for Victor.

"Water, thank you," she moved her hand long enough to make the request, and then cast an askance look at Victor. Perhaps if she chased the Old Fashioned with some water, she'd stop acting like such a damn fool. The baratender nodded and went to retrieve a beer glass, which he could fill with water.

"Sorry," Jack said bashfully, her hands quickly typing an excuse over the screen, <<The color-changing surprised me. It's really cool. Why? If it isn't too personal to ask?>>

The bartender returned with a glass of water. Jack nodded her thanks and took a sig of the cold water, sighing after a single gulp. Her face was hot which, luckily, there was no way of telling that by looking at her. She seemed a touch fidgetty, though. She could feel her secondary set of arms twitching beneath the cover of her shirt.

Victor watched her face, slowly gaining an understanding of how her features worked. They were there, just way more subtle. She waved off his complement and explained what the drink was. It was interesting, perhaps he should give it a try. But later, he was getting enough alcohol as it was. Nice tingly warm alcohol. He was going to have to be careful. He might become an addict at this rate and he definitely didn't want to bring that home with him.

It was hard not to notice her verbal surprise at his skin shift. The alcohol was probably doing more than making him feel good then. He must actually be getting warm with it or it was doing something to him. Not surprising, well it shouldn't be. Throw beer on a fire, you're going to get a bigger fire.

"Sorry,"<<The color-changing surprised me. It's really cool. Why? If it isn't too personal to ask?>>

He shrugged it off, "It's no big deal. I tend to change color based on the temperature. I guess the drink is actually making me warm. I thought it was just a feeling." He held up the beer, peeking at the proof. It wasn't that bad, though he had to wonder what a higher proof would do to him. Well only one way to find out.

He downed his second beer at a far faster pace. It burned but not so bad the second time around and the warmth was far greater this time around. He could feel himself gathering heat and now he knew that his skin was definitely reacting to it too. And this was only beer number two.

Jack punctuated Victor’s explanation with attentive nods. Changing color with changes in temperature, that was pretty cool.

“Dat’s cool,” Jack said appreciatively,“Iss I was da one changin’ colors, I would ‘e like a… uh-” cue embarrassed, hurried typing, << A lava lamp of rainbows.>>

The alcohol was loosening Jack up enough to try speaking with Victor, but when she encountered a tangle of consonants that her mouth couldn’t articulate, she quickly leaned on her phone as a crutch once again. Jack spaced-out a bit, as Victor polished-off a second beer. How refreshing, to have a normal conversation.

Her thoughts wandered quietly, music filling the space between them. Jack allowed the pause, idly twirling her cellphone on the counter-top. She had so many questions, intrigued by the larger mutant. You wouldn’t give him the time of day if you were sober, would you, Jack? Perhaps, perhaps not. Jack was operating on whiskey-brain, so it was difficult to say what sober-brain would think. The prawn let the phone fall flat on the counter, staring at it for a moment.

The only way to find out would be to meet-up once again, when whiskey-brain was sober-brain once again. Jack's mandibles flexed, as if testing the words before voicing them. She'd seen it a thousand times, at Chrysalis. Girls scrawling their numbers on napkins, giving a wink, leaning low. Jack looked down at her own, broad chest. She wasn't like those girls see saw at Chrysalis.

“Iss you come here again, would you like to drink toget’er?” Jack asked experimentally, eyes pointed towards the display of expensive alcohol bottles, “Dey’re cool wiss… doze like us, all-dough dere’s still not a lot o'… uh… us.” She gestured between the two of them, meeting Victor’s eye, before realizing how her invitation could be connoted.

“Iss you want, dat is,” she said hurriedly. Her hands felt too fidgety. She grasped for her water and took a timid sip, looking back to the display of alcohol.

“Dat’s cool, Iss* I was da one changin’ colors, I would ‘e like a… uh-” Victor watched the shrimp-worman struggle for the right words before going for the phone, << A lava lamp of rainbows.>>

He chuckled at the idea and nodded his head, "I know a five year old who would love that." His younger cousins would think Jack's shiny shell was beautiful. Hell he thought it was very pretty. Even if it wasn't a lava lamp of rainbows. He kind of wanted to take a closer look, if she'd let him. It'd probably be rude to touch and look without her permission.

They waited in companionable silence as his next beer came. Beer number three or was it four. He felt like such a lightweight for not being able to think clearly after so few beers. It wasn't even strong stuff and he was a big guy. How could he be drunk now?

“Iss you come here again, would you like to drink toget’er? Dey’re cool wiss… doze like us, all-dough dere’s still not a lot of… uh… us.”

He perked up at this and grinned, going to speak before she shyly added, “Iss you want, dat is,”

"Of course! I like drinking with you. In fact,"he took a swig of his beer, which for him was practically half the bottle. He stood up and offered his hand. "How 'bout we dance? I haven't had a dance partner my own size in a while." He was feeling loose enough not to care how he looked. He just wanted to move and have fun and he was sure he could get her to join him.

>> "I know a five year old who would love that."

Jack nodded and sipped her water. She hadn’t “known” a kid in ages. There were random encounters on public transportation, who’d pass by her while shopping or on the streets. Some of them were fascinated by her, others were terrified. Jack reacted accordingly—gave a wave or avoided eye contact. Regardless, she always made a hasty departure.

Jack could feel his eyes on her, and she timidly set her glass down, holding her arm with the opposite hand, as both elbows remained planted on the bar. The anxiety stretched between her inquiries and his response, causing her heart to stutter.

>> "Of course! I like drinking with you. In fact-”

He polished off the bottle and rose. Confused lavender eyes followed Victor as he loomed above her, extending a large hand. Ever the clueless one, Jack extended her hand, hesitant and slow, but almost immediately after. Were they going to shake hands on it? Scout’s honor? Would he swear to drink again with her? That seemed like a pretty intense length to go to, to guarantee another rendezvous. She would’ve been perfectly content to just give him her number.

She squeezed his hand as if to initiate a handshake, and noticed then that their hands were about the same size. Whereas hers were calloused, cool, and chitin-armored along the back, his were warm and soft. Inviting. Reassuring. When Victor did not shake her hand, the prawn realized a cycle too slowly that his motives were otherwise.

>> “How 'bout we dance? I haven't had a dance partner my own size in a while."

Her fingers tensed, contemplating retreat, but her hand still rested lightly upon his. Though Jack would deign to admit it, she liked holding someone else’s hand. Particularly when their hands were so similarly-sized. It had easily been a decade since she’d shown or been shown this degree of affection, and in her alcohol-induced stupor, she enjoyed it.

The attention also made her timid.

“I- I ne’er danced,” she admonished, “I don’t know how. I ne’er danced, e’en as a teen.”

Despite her hesitant excuses, Jack slid off of the stool. Her uncertain, lavender gaze swung towards Victor’s enormous eye. He really was a good deal taller than her, easily a foot. For once in her life, Jack felt small: and yet, rather than feel intimidated or scared, she felt at-ease. She was always minding her step around others, constantly aware of how she was occupying the space she was in, on the look-out for any potential threats. Standing before Victor, as she was now, it felt like the release of an incredible tension that she had never known she was holding.

Dancing had never been her thing—she’d never had the guts to go a dance with Chelsea, in junior high; and, after high school, she’d all but given-up hope of being asked to a dance. She just wasn’t one for dancing, she’d asserted. She couldn’t fit the cute dresses, towered over most of the guys, and was mistaken as one by many more of them.

Despite all of this, she still stood before her fellow mutant, a shy smile crinkling at the corner of her eyes, her large maxillipeds curling slightly.

((ooc: Not sure if I gave you enough to work with, so please feel free to have Vic walk them to the floor, etc. Too much internal monologue in my post! D:))

Victor smiled as she took his hand, the way that it fit despite their differences. The cool shell felt firm in his hand, safe to hold. He wouldn't accidentally break her if he held too tightly. Perhaps in the drunken haze it was making too much out of so little. But it felt right to be holding her hand. Though her features looked more confused than anything else.

“I- I ne’er danced, I don’t know how. I ne’er danced, e’en as a teen.”

He couldn't help but chuckle softly at her shy admission. For such a big, strong woman, she was awfully timid. "I'll show you. Trust me, once you feel the rhythm you'll get into it." He waited for her to stand before leading her out to the small dance floor. It wasn't big enough for a lot of people and with the two of them, well there was way less room.

But it wasn't like anybody was complaining. Perhaps it was because big mutants like them didn't dance often. Too shy of their bodies to do something creative with it. However, despite his changed form, the tingle in his spine, the bounce in his feet, it hadn't left him. The alcohol only bolstered the need to move and the willingness to go.

Gently he positioned her hands, one on his shoulder, the other holding his. While his left set gently settled on her waist, while the remaining right remained loose for balance. It was a classic dancing pose with a little modification for his extra limbs. "Alright now, just follow my lead. The songs a little fast but I think you can get it."

He started simple, with the way his grandmother and mother taught him. Feet moving in a square while focusing on the bounce of his hips and torso. He'd bring in the more complicated stuff later. He needed to start gentle and not scare Jack off.

Jack dropped her gaze when the taller mutant chuckled, but he didn’t deride her. Already, the prawn was fighting the urge to bolt that was settling in her legs. She could feel it in her legs, a nervous spasm in her calf.

>> "I'll show you. Trust me, once you feel the rhythm you'll get into it."

The young woman nodded to Victor, eyes smiling. Oftentimes, the largest individuals were the shyest about these types of things. They carried themselves lightly, they took up as little space as possible, and they scarcely dared to dance. Jack was one such person, arriving before the music began and staking-out a seat towards the end of the bar. That was often where she remained, too, until the music was through. Nursing an Old Fashioned, or a beer. Usually people left her alone.

But now, Victor was leading her into unfamiliar territory. The prawn was tethered by the hand that held her own. Her eyes swung about, taking-in this change of perspective. It was weird, being so much closer to the stage. Jack could feel the croon of the instruments reverberating in her antennae, and in the soles of her feet.

They found their place on the dancefloor, and Victor turned to her. By now, her mind was fuzzy and warm. Her eyes pinched in a smile. She was about to ask what to do next, but Victor was way ahead of her. Moving her hand to his shoulder, and taking the other in his. She squirmed a bit when a pair of his hands settled on her waist. One of her secondary arms, on the corresponding side, shifted out of the way.

>> "Alright now, just follow my lead. The songs a little fast but I think you can get it."

While Victor may have started simply, the truth of the matter was, Jack truly had never danced. The fuzz of the alcohol and the warmth of someone else’s hold made it even more difficult to focus. Jack tried to match Victor’s movement, but nearly stepped on one of his feet. A mumbled apology fell out of her mouth. Although she was agile for her size, she wasn’t used to being nimble to this degree. The prawn looked towards Victor’s feet, taking two steps to match his single steps until she felt she had the pattern down. Just follow his lead.

…back… side… forward… the f__k? She was solid until he crossed his feet. Jack stumbled a bit. The prawn recovered. …back… side… forward… nailed it! Slowly, the young woman started to mirror Victor. Her hold on his shoulder occasionally flexed as her balance wavered, but she did not fall. Jack grinned and looked up towards the taller mutant.

“Dis does not seen like your sirst tine dancing,” Jack observed. She miss-stepped, but was able to adjust accordingly, “My right soot seens to want to sad-otage my lest.”

A chuckle burbled out of her throat, and the grin remained. This was really fun-- liberating, in a way-- even if her right foot was trying to sabotage her left.

God it felt good to dance again. Despite the changes his body had gone through since the last time he had danced, it still moved and felt in all the familiar ways it should. The bounce of the beat, the warmth of lights and dance floor bodies. The pulse of another's hand in his own. Though her's was far from human and different from him, it didn't seem to matter. It felt right to be dancing with her.

Jack on the other hand. He could see that she was having a bit of a hard time following. She kept missing the beat, her feet crossing at in appropriate times. But he didn't blame her. This was her first time after all, she would get the hang of it soon enough. He hoped anyway, because he really wanted to try spinning her.

“Dis does not seen like your sirst tine dancing,”

He grinned and nodded, "Dancing at parties was mandatory in my family. It wasn't a good celebration unless a few people got drunk and danced." He wondered, momentarily, if the Christmas party would be more lively than last years. With him around it seemed people were more subdued. He didn't want that from them. He wanted them to be happy.

“My right soot seens to want to sad-otage my lest.”

He looked down at her feet and indeed it seemed her footing would get mixed up. But she correct herself easily enough. "Mmhm...I'm gonna try something stupid, but I want you to trust me, okay?" He barely waited for confirmation before, well, spinning her. Like he would any other dance partner. Plus, perhaps this was a little misogynistic on his part, but looking the way she did, she probably didn't get treated like a woman very often. And being spun by your dance partner was pretty feminine. He just hoped it made her feel even more giggly, she had a nice laugh.

>> "Dancing at parties was mandatory in my family. It wasn't a good celebration unless a few people got drunk and danced."

“Dat sounds like a lot of fun,” Jack remarked, “My san-ily was dull, dey ne’er had shindigs like dat.”

While sober Jack loathed social occasions like that, drunken Jack was more than a touch envious. She really had never attended parties like that, even when she’d been human-looking. They were a family that kept to themselves and scarcely entertained. A household that wasn’t very close to the extended family. Jack glanced at her feet, and was impressed to see that she was, for the most part, keeping up with Victor. There was a shaky step, here and there, but as she fell into the rhythm, her movements were getting a little easier.

>> "Mmhm...I'm gonna try something stupid, but I want you to trust me, okay?"

“Sun-ting stu’id?” Jack began to echo, “Like wh-?”

Rather than clarify his intent, massive hands maneuvered her into a spin. It reminded her of the ocean. She has once swam in the sea when she still lived in California. She stood neck-deep in water and swayed with the current, like seaweed. That’s how it felt in Victor’s arms. They were swaying in the current of the music and her feet scarcely moved.

Jack chuckled. And, when Victor brought her out of the spin, Jack was breathless and all-smiles. Everything was dizzy and warm. Though the steady hand on her waist assured her that Victor wouldn’t drop her, Jack’s hand tensed lightly as they resumed dancing once again.

“Whoa,” she breathed, “You twirl nee like it was not’ing. Dat was cool.”

Delight brimmed up in her lavender gaze. It was apparent, in how she moved, that Jack was starting to feel more at-ease now. She wasn’t so tense in Victors’ arms, and her mouthparts were continually curled into her rendition of a smile. Jack hoped that this memory wasn’t lost in the whiskey-induced stupor. She rather hoped to hold onto it.