Prologue: Earlier that day

The phone rang as she was just in her driveway. She unlocked the screen, answered, and heard a voice she had not heard in a while... It was the voice of her manager. "Listen, I really need you to take this gig. I had two acts cancel out on me already and you are reliable."

Xavia sighed and said, "I have not done it in a while. I am really busy lately and...."

"I know, but listen... The pay is pretty good and you also owe me. Plus, you are still under contract even though I let you get out of finishing tour all those years ago. Comer on, be a pal!"

"Fine... Where am I goin? What time?"


Later that day, it was already late in the evening. She sat in her dressing room, staring at the pregnancy test she had just used. Her lips pressed together at the answer that stared back at her. Then there was a knock on the door that broke the stare. She shoved the test into the bottom of her purse, made sure her girls weren't falling out of the bodice of the slinky red, silk number she wore, and she moved to the door to open it. The stage manager cued her to stage left.

Xavia was quite happy that this would only be four songs, somehow she was able to talk her manager into letting her open for someone else who was lined up last minute. After the sound check was performed, she moved to the old fashioned looking microphone in center stage.

The spot light was bright upon her, that old familiar heat and the nerves causing her stomach to churn on top of the knowledge that the pregnancy test... Her second one in a week, was positive. This was not good. Not the test, nor her being where she was. But ever the professional... Xavia... Or rather "Layla" as she was announced, bullheaded her way through the set. First she sang the cover for Heart: Alone, sitting on a stool at some point and singing that with genuine emotion.

"I hear t'e ticking of t'e clock, I'm lying here, t'e room's pitch dark... I wonder where you are tonight, no answer on t'e telephone... And t'e night goes by... So very slow... Oh... I hope t'at it won't end... No... Alone......... Till now, I always got by on my own! I never really cared until I met you... And now it chills me to t'e bone.. How do I get you alonnnne?" Her voice was husky, sensual... An alto... And instead of doing it fast, she did it with just a guitarist playing for her.

The next three songs that followed were originals, and got even better. And then she was done, coming off stage long enough to collect her purse. She had to wait for them to pay her, so she went and sat at the bar, asking for some ice water. Sweat was still kind of dotting her upper lip from the heat of that stupid spot light.

It was odd how, despite managing a nightclub, Jack found herself at similar venues when she had a nights off. Perhaps she was perusing for ideas, potential shows, that kind of thing. Or perhaps she just needed a nice Old Fashioned at a bar that didn’t belong to Randy… it was a matter of finding the right bartender, and she’d seemingly found one at this quiet little bar. Besides which, they had live shows, which was a pleasant change of pace from Inferno’s usual bass-laden beats.

The prawn had been standing off to the side when the woman with the electric red hair sang. For all four songs Jack remained in the spot, nursing an Old Fashioned in a glass that looked rather like a shot glass in her massive hands. She applauded when appropriate, swayed a bit, but otherwise did not mingle. Then, the young woman finished her set (a rather short one, too) before leaving the stage.

Jack remained to the side for a moment, before realizing that she had mostly ice cubes in her glass. She pulled the surgical mask bat over her maxillae, as it had been lifted slightly to allow her to sip her drink, and she stalked quietly towards the bar. She found an open stool, carefully taking a seat. The bartender spied her and meandered over.

“’nother Old-Fashioned?”

Jack tipped decently. As such, the barkeeps tended to pay good attention to her.

“Iss you could,” the prawn said politely, nodding her head. The bartender went about preparing the drink, and the prawn took the opportunity to survey her neighbors. A guy who was well along his way to being blackout drunk, but in really good spirits—and the singer from previously. Jack hadn’t caught her name. If she’d had more wherewithal, she wouldn’t have sat here. Now Jack felt compelled to acknowledge the singer beside her.

“Y-you sing well,” the prawn commented, fumbling for an ice-breaker, “Really short set, doh.”

Sure, Jack. Call attention to how she didn’t sing for very long. Classy.

She was drinking water heavily by the time someone started speaking to her... She sang well but the set was short. She continued to guzzle until the glass was empty, came up for air and then said, "T'ank you. I know was short but I come in last minute." The redhead shrugged some as she watched more water, no ice, filling her glass.

Her head turned once the glass was in her hand again, and she didn't really have a huge, shocked reaction when she realized that the person talking to her was a gifted. Xavia gave a nod, looking pretty tired for the moment, as she sat there sipping the cool but not cold water.

Again, the sipping turned into downing the water. Beads of sweat still rolling down her face. Goodness, but it was so warm! Or was it just the fact she was knocked up that had her feeling so freakin' warm?!

The lady said something about short-notice, to which Jack nodded understandingly. Ah, that explained it. Given her lack of conversational skills, the prawn let the explanation hang in the air, taking a sip of her Old Fashioned. She might have another drink or two and then head home after the main act. Since an actual night-off was few and far between, she was looking forward to catching-up on sleep.

Her gaze slid towards the scarlet-haired woman, who was drinking as though she’d just crossed a desert and, likewise, sweating profusely. Jack arched an eyebrow, some instinct tickling at the back of her neck. That didn’t seem… normal…

“You okay?” the prawn grunted, “Not lookin’ okay.”

It honestly wasn’t any of her business. And yet, there Jack was, asking.

"Hot under spotlight. Hot in here." She said as she signalled for yet another refill of water. And then she winced at the sound of the next artist singing off key. No wonder her manager had been desperate and tried talking her into being the second act, which was longer. This guy was bad.

That was a shame, really. She was not, however, going to feel bad for taking the short set. She was busy, and singing was just a direction she didn't want to take her life. Stilk, there was no harm in taking money for talent. Ahe would end up giving it to someone in need anyways.

She seemed vaguely familiar, the red-haired woman. Jack didn't have the wherewithal to think of where she was familiar from, however. Perhaps Chrysalis? A lot of people passed through Chrysalis. That had to be it. The prawn shrugged as the woman resumed guzzling her water, and Jack resumed studying the Old Fashioned with a half-interest. The next act was bad-- really bad.

The prawn flattened her antennae in displeasure, giving a quiet, inconvenienced growl. What an ear-sore. The prawn stole another side-eyed glance at the young woman, her brain still trying to pin the young woman's face to a location. It couldn't have been Chrysalis, despite her prior conclusion.

"Do you..." the prawn began awkwardly, "I nean, has you e'er gone to Chrysalis? It's a nyu-tant clu' in Lower Nan-hattan."

"I may have," she said. "I have not gone to clubs much recently, but busy working at t'e mansion and running business." She tossed back a final drink of water, finally feeling quenched. In the meantime, she was plugging the one ear closest to the stage. When a really nasty note was hit, she grimaced, pulled out her phone and sent a text to her manager saying he might want to rethink that band and she would rather be caught dead than ever have to collab with them.

And it appeared the crowd was not having it either, because they started pelting the stage with food, drinks, and even more dangerous missiles like beer bottles, heckling, "Get off the stage!"

If she could, she would have walked backstage to unplug all the audio equipment, but she was no tech. And with beer foaming beneath the feet of the now halting musicians, she saw danger in the making. The crowd was just getting more hostile. After all, they had paid to see this show and it was turning into a disaster.

Ah. Mansion. The prawn’s antennae perked, and she was just about to proclaim that she worked security at Xavier’s, when the singer on-stage all but screeched an awful, ear-splitting note. The prawn ground her mandibles together, her antennae pressing flat. The first sound of a shattering bottle breached her senses, and the prawn straightened, looking towards the stage. People were shouting.

Last time things got this bad, her companion nearly burnt the other bar down. She’d not make the same mistake of getting involved again. Jack had turned her attention to the stage now, one hand still curled around the drink. Security would (hopefully) intervene and the singer would (also hopefully) get the message and get-off the stage. What a bust.

“I work at Xa’iers,” the prawn explained hesitantly, her voice creaking out as she watched the drama unfold, “I’n security. Sought I knew you s-run sun-where.”

When a bottle came crashing just half a foot from her arm, she got up and cursed, "T'e hell?" She gestured with one finger and then went up to the stubborn singer on stage, taking the microphone from his hand, and the band stopped playing. She then spoke into the microphone, "Whoever t'rew t'e bottle at t'e bar came close to hitting me... Over some music. I will sing one more song if you all stop being nasty." Someone in the crowd cheered for her, others looked sheepish.

The crowd stopped throwing stuff, settled down, just as the manager was about to call the police. He mouthed a thank you to her, she nodded, and then sat down at the band's keyboard after they left the stage. "I know t'ey weren't what you t'ought of as conventional band, but t'ey had balls coming on stage in front of you lot. Be a sport and give t'em a hand for trying." She seemed to get the crowd to calm down and even applaud the awful band. Professionalism at it's best, yo.

Once the crowd was silenced and the band was completely gone, she started playing the tune for a new song she had never even performed yet. The tune was kind of heavy hitting, kind of haunting... And so were the words. "It's been a long time since I saw your face... And when I think of it, it is blurred in my mind... Like some kind of image fading away with the sun. I never thought that I would miss you so hard... I miss your touch, the way your breath was on my skin... If this is some game we played between us, then I think you have won... And this game of hearts is never really something to be fun... I wish you had stayed. Why did you go away? I don't sleep, and I can't breathe, without you laying next to me, but your gone... And I am left the broken hearted one."

She really got into the song, as if she meant every single word... Making the crowd forget they were pissed off about how horrible the last band was. The song lasted a good eight or ten minutes and then she announced the third band, then headed off stage to return to her seat. She raised her hand for more water, and looked at the insect lady with a tired expression, "You work at mansiom, you say?"

The red-head angrily rose from her seat, snatching the microphone from a rather bewildered singer. Jack sat amongst the stunned crowd, brow ridge stitched and antennae back. Somehow, with the promise of a new song, she managed to wrangle the rowdy audience members in. If they behaved, she promised, she’d sing another song.

And sing she did. The prawn nursed her drink, listening to the lady’s melodious voice, letting the lyrics play upon her heartstrings. She couldn’t say that she had personally experienced what the young woman sang about—this degree of physically missing people. Sure, she missed people—missed better days—but there wasn’t really that basic, human longing for having someone “lying next to you” as it were, after love was lost. Zinnia was, admittedly, the first person she’d ever slept beside.

It was a good, long song, however, and Jack followed the redhead through its entirety. Eventually, her companion returned, reclaiming her seat beside Jack.

>> "You work at mansiom, you say?"

“Security, yes,” the prawn confirmed, bobbing her head. She appreciatively commented, “Dat was… quite sun crowd control. ‘as getting ready to get outta here.”

Certainly, she was security—but standing-up for a stranger had some potential backlash when it came to physical mutants.

“What do you, at the Xa’iers?” the prawn asked of the young woman, inclining her head. Jack’s money would be on music, given how melodious the young woman sounded.

"Sometimes it is only way... To get crowd to die down is to give what they pay for. Diffuse t'e situation before it gets bad." She shrugged a little. She was just speaking from experience. Having dealt with tough crowds on the one tour she made, she saw her fair share of the bull crap people did when they thought they were being ripped off. It was just a fact of life in show business that booze, hot tempers, and crappy music did not mix.

The crowd was seemingly fine by that point, no more cursing, throwing bottles, or otherwise. This did not take away from her irritation at even being in the club. She needed to rearrange her life so she had time to enjoy it, this working all the time was starting to simply tire her out. It's not like she needed the money. She was not filthy rich, but she was definitely not broke. Hell, her grocery bill hardly cost anything, she grew most of her food.

"I teach Biology and Botany at Mansion," she replied to the bug woman. "I have been t'ere for some time." She started guzzling the water again... Ahh, precious water. How was she not needing to go to the restroom yet?

Unlike the experiences the young woman cited as she explained that she just did what she had to, Jack had no experience to draw from. Chrysalis didn't do many, if any, live shows. Jack's job likewise started when things went south. Other more articulate bouncers we responsible for diffusing tense situations.

Jack polished off the Old Fashioned and set the emptied glass farther from her, readjusting her surgical mask. For now, this was plenty. She still had to walk home after all…

>> "I teach Biology and Botany at Mansion. I have been t'ere for some time."

“How long?” the prawn inquired, genuinely interested, “I has ‘een on security sore two years now.”

"A few years," she replied and then tried very hard not to yawn from tiredness. She was starting to feel impatient and wanted to go home and sleep. God, sleep was great. Xavia had missed sleep, and now that she had it back, she was extremely happy to have it... But waiting for the manager to come get her to pay her was going to probably take until the rest of the bands were done playing. And she couldn't drink, so that didn't help either.

"I train t'ere too, but it is slow going because of all of the work I do outside and inside mansion." Indeed, she was a busy person. And she would be even busier once her second kid arrived. Yay for that.

The lady seemed exhausted, it didn't take a detective to notice that. Jack jangled the half-melted ice cubes around the small glass, watching the young redhead carefully.

“Do dey has a lounge here?” Jack asked. Chrysalis provided backstage seating for their live acts. Surely this venue had similar accommodations?

“Look tired,” the prawn observed, “No good to slee’ out here.”

Of course, the prawn might also keep a lookout for the lady if she slept out here, but it'd probably be less noisy, and less sticky, backstage.

"So far, I am not seeing anyt'ing to make me want to come here again, performing or ot'erwise," she shrugged softly, though she didn't say it in anger. "No lounge... I am drinking water, but I wonder if I can even get free drinks. I am pretty tired. But t'at spot light is killer... Pretty hot. Would make me wilt if I stay too long under." Literally, she thought. Sometimes being a plant person kind of sucked. It was just like being a regular plant in some ways... She needed to be watered, she needed just enough sunlight, and certain temperatures made her sickly or injured her. Yay for that!

She signaled for another glass of water, but this time just to sip on while she waited out the damn manager for her paycheck, which would be at the end of the night.