Things were starting to look up for Xavia. She was offered a chance to do a demo tape for a recording studio, she had herself a new job, she was looking for a house in the burbs, and she was starting to make a name for herself. She didn't know if that was a fringe or if that was a bother, that last thing though. Regardless, she was out to celebrate her climbing up the career ladder.

Because her case was still open, both of her bodyguards had insisted on joining her. They probably just wanted an excuse to wear black suits, she thought as the taxi pulled in front of a jazz bar. They both got out in front of her, and then one offered a hand. She took it and was helped from the Taxi, and she leaned in long enough to pay the cabbie. "Keep the change," she said, and then pulled out. The cabbie saluted the blonde and drove off from there. Both of the meatheads flanked her, then, and she made her way toward the entryway.

Inside, she sauntered toward the bar all lanky like, her copper cocktail dress shimmering in the soft light of the establishment, gathering a few glances of admiration on the way to the bar. Of course, she didn't particularly care that people looked at her, they didn't matter to her. She was used to it because of the nature of her mutation. She was beautiful and younger looking than her 27 years, an ethereal sort. And with her make over, she went from being a shy looking dark, to a blonde bombshell, and it wasn't even for the attention.

Hell, she could do without that part. But lots of things had changed about her since her journey. She was toughened up, though still somewhat jumpy, she wasn't as shy, but nor did she scream for someone to come to her. She wasn't running anymore, she was in the spotlight but somehow retained a sense of privacy in her rising popularity as a singer. She was not penniless and homeless anymore, that was for sure.

Xavia sat down on a stool and raised her hand to gain attention from the tender. "Mudslide, please. Start a tab." The man nodded and gave a look of leisure pursuit and turned away to make her drink. She rolled her eyes and turned around, leaning back casually, tucking her purse under her arm while she swept her eyes over the interior.

She already knew there would probably be nothing familiar about the place, nor the faces that milled about. "You may mingle," she said to her bodyguards without looking at them, her Eastern European accent somewhat thick tonight. As she watched them retreat, she breathed in a sigh of relief, having felt a bit overcrowded. Thank god.

Fall.

It was a mellow kind of season, and in theme with the mellowness of said season and her current mood Verdy had decided to go to a jazz bar. The music there was of a gentler sort than some of the nightclubs she had attended and while there was bound to be dancing it would be of a kind that didn’t give the inhabitants the idea that gyrating wildly against one another counted as dancing.

Dancing wasn’t what was on her mind, however, as she sat at the bar swirling her Malibu around and around in the glass. The coconut scent reminded her of Hawaii and people tanning on the beach. It had been a long time since she had thought about it, every day it slipped further and further from her mind. In truth it wasn’t even home anymore, just a place she had once lived. It was the exact day where Hawaii had ceased being ‘home’ that she was trying to decide on when a young woman sat on the stool next to her.

Usually she might not have paid the woman any more attention than a quick glance, the same respect she had paid to the slender figure perched on her other side, but when the two burly men (for burly was the only way to describe them) were dismissed and moved away she turned her attention again to the young woman wearing the colour of fall itself.

Pure power. It was either that or total defencelessness. She couldn’t think of another reason why a young woman might need two escorts to somewhere like a jazz bar. A concert, probably, even certain sale-days at the mall, but for a night like this in a place like this it stood out enough to perk her interest.

She turned to face the woman, still swirling her drink, as the other sighed. A friendly smile touched the edge of her lips as the pianist moved skilfully across the keys, accompanied by just the right amount of drums and bass or double bass (she couldn’t tell from where she was sitting).

“Finally free of the foot hounds?”

The young woman had the air of someone who had escorts because she had to, not as a gaudy display of power like a dog in a purse, but for protection. Verdy ran her eyes over her, she looked a little familiar, but not so much so that they would have met before. Perhaps she had passed her in the street some time, or stood behind her in line for a coffee. She tilted her glass towards the blonde and inclined her head.

“Verdigris.”

Fall. Mellow. Smooth.

She scarcely paid attention when her spiked chocolate shake was placed on the gleaming marble of the bar. Her eyes were on the two men who went to pretend they weren’t there to protect her as they nonchalantly checked girls out and did the dude thing. Her mind was wandering with the sound of a familiar tune, one which she sang often at other clubs and fought the urge not to hum along to now. Her lids slowly shifted halfway down, veiling her gaze with long, dark lashes.

Then she heard a voice, and the singer flinched out of her reverie. Xavia nearly knocked her mudslide off the bar as she turned toward the source. Playing her clumsiness off, she grabbed for the drink and gave a sheepish smile. “Um, yeah. They are protective too much sometimes, but they are paid well, I suppose.” A genuine smile crossed casually over her glossed lips. “They insisted on joining me. I think they wanted to wear suits.” She rolled eyes and then offered her right hand. “Um.. Xavia..” she said, almost calling herself by the name she had known herself as for a year.

After a shake or not, she grasped the straw of her drink with forefinger and thumb, placing it between her lips and sipping the frozen beverage. Oh, lord… Maybe trying a mudslide was a bad idea. The roof of her mouth burned. She gave a slight wheeze and deposited the drink on the bar and peeked down at her hand. Yup, welts. She closed her hand right quick and in a hurry, and let the mudslide sit to warm. Freezing Cold+plant mutant=ouch (She could handle a little ice in her vodka, but that was pushing it). But she had forgotten again in her haste to get out and do something fun.

Hopefully the woman would miss the little peek see at the hand. She was not exactly open to the public about her abilities, now was she? Nah. When she was sure she could talk again after “freeze” burning the roof of her mouth, she cleared her throat out of necessity and then said, “I always love hearing other musicians at work. The music is lovely, yes?”

The slightly injured hand curled into her skirt, and she looked around somewhat, always scanning for danger, always checking, always… Careful. She knew that danger didn’t care where she was, it would happen when it happened. A fact, that. “This place is nice as well, too. The owner said he paid pretty handsomely for the customizations. Only the best for his patrons.”

The girl spoke about the two men in a way that suggested they were a necessity, but not particularly wanted. The mention of their paychecks made Verdy pause her drink-swirling for a moment as she pondered who would be paying for the two to protect the blonde beside her. Her first guess was the mafia, although the accent wasn’t quite what her movie-based knowledge suggested a child of the mob would have.

Dismissing the mob idea she settled instead on the idea of a daughter of a diplomat, or an upper-class family from wherever the sweetening of her tone originated. It would make more sense that such a girl would need to be protected. While kidnappings and ransom notes seemed a little far fetched, her time in NYC had taught her not to make assumptions about the city, lest they turn around and bite her right in the assumption.

The girl seemed friendly enough, though and Verdy was in the mood to make a new friend after all the time cooped up in her room, distracted by her blanket so she shook the offered hand with a smile, despite her hesitation on account of possible mutation. Xavia, a pretty name, and almost an echo of the mansion’s sister school, however, it did not help her place the face, or the voice that seemed even more familiar.

The young woman took a sip of her drink (a drink that looked to be just a tad too chocolatey for Verdy’s taste) and winced. Verdy knew that look, and from the condensation on the outside of the glass she guessed she knew the reason.

“Brain freeze?”

It was one of those things that everyone suffers from. She vaguely remembered a cure James had taught her once, after one too many thickshakes.

“If you press the roof of your mouth with your thumb it will go away.”

She shrugged, it was obscure, but it had always worked for her. She smiled at Xavia’s acknowledgement of the music and turned her attention to the notes flowing smoothly through the air. The tune was just the right mix of tambres and the fact that it was purely instrumental allowed for easy listening, the type that allows the listener to tune in and out without losing any meaning. The volume was also of an acceptable level, providing a pleasant backdrop to their conversation without being overwhelming.

“Yes, and a nice place for it too.”

It took a few moments for the ‘other’ to register and she cocked her head towards the girl.

“You play?”

Other than a little basic guitar she could barely recall Verdy’s skills with musical instruments was borderline nil. Still, it didn’t take ability to form admiration, and she appreciated good music as much as anyone else.

Xavia was definitely not a mafia baby. Heiress? Yes. Though that had nothing to do with why she was being protected. Not that she knew the other girl was contemplating reasons for the singer needing protection. The part about the kidnapping was true, of course, but how would Verdigris know? Xavia was always careful about details like that.

She cleared her throat again, testing her tongue against the roof of her mouth a little, “Um, yeah, brain freeze.” More like freezer burn. She had the tendency to forget that the cold was not always good for her. Why couldn’t she take on the succulent strength of withstanding cold? Bah. And then the subject changed, thankfully. She wouldn’t have to curb to avoid explaining her situation. After all, she had no clue she was talking to someone as special as she was. It wasn’t like she had never used her gifts in public, but she was more careful at the moment because of the nature of the situation.

“I suppose you could say I play.” She said, smiling genuinely, though it wasn’t a full blown one. It was a gentle curving. Guilty. This was one of the clubs she was usually booked at when not working at the hotel, but today was a pleasure trip, not a business trip. She needed to relax like crazy, her nerves were simply shot. Her neck was tighter than a Cheerio around a pea.

“It really is a nice place… They did a wonderful job with renovations, I think.” She grinned and shifted on her stool. “I have not seen you here before. You here for the first time? If so, you’re in for a treat tonight, I think. They are bringing the big band out in a little while.” As per routine, she thought. “They really get to playing the stuff from way back when, you know? The stuff you don’t hear much anymore over the blasting of rap beats and guitar riffs. Ahh, always so beautiful and smooth like porcelain,” she went on to say. She forgot about the welts on her palm and gestured passionately as she spoke, seeing as she was an animated sort of person. Absentminded sometimes, and perhaps a little eccentric and off her rocker, but that was Xavia. She was probably one of the slim populace of genuine characters in upper crust NYC. And she had plenty of reason to be off her rocker. At least she didn’t turn evil from all of the issues at hand.

Her eyes sort of half closed as the patronage applauded the end of the song, and a ragtime tune began to play. If one knew ragtime, one would know this song to have been played by Muggsy Spanker & His Ragtime Band. Some of the patrons swarmed to the dance floor and started dancing the jitterbug, swing, or similar dances. The club was definitely hoppin’ that night.