It was another average night at Death by the Thousandth Spoke. Désmoda was sipping drinks with her cousin and their friends, occasionally mingling with the patrons, making sure her girls were good. Until she heard a crackling from her walkie. It was the front door bouncer, complaining about some kid demanding to be let in without an ID.
Désmoda set down her drink, hopped down off her barstool, and went to see what the fuss was about.
At the front of the line was a boy who looked maybe 15 if she was being generous, clearly already trashed off his ass. Something about him looked vaguely familiar, she thought.
"This club for 21 and older, honey. I'm sorry, but you must go home," she said in as kind a tone as she could muster.
"Are you fucking kidding me you to!!?" He nearly whined this time before his head dropped back and he rolled his eyes. "First off bitch ... Imma take ALL of this as a compliment! Clearly I'm fuckin adorable! Secondly!!! Fuck you big man!!!" He randomly stopped long enough to slur at the actual door guy pointing a finger at him. Then looking back to the female he sort of blinked a few times, woah ok that tequila from the limo was hitting him hard. Oh and probably the oxys to. "I'm fucking twenty ... Three" He slurred which that definitely didn't help his case that he'd briefly forgotten how old he actually was and now gone making up new numbers. "Look I came with those guys over there just ask them!!!" He added moving to point except, ok so not cool. Where the hell had Jace and Cregan gone!!?? Oh yeah, speaking of he could have decked Mr big man as he'd so coined him for letting Jace and his fake ID past but now he was stuck here looking a fool. He'd probably left it in the damn limo ride. Also he had came with his latest fling.... WHO WAS NOW ALSO ... Actually he'd seen her drooling at both the brunettes like a complete whore bag. Yeah he was now irritated. "I'll stand here all damn night....." He finally announces crossing his arms.
Désmoda, who was a bit baby-faced herself, just stared at the boy who was ranting and raving and seating in the spot.
She looked in the direction he was pointing. "Who am I asking, honey?"
A voice sounded from behind her. "I know him."
Désmoda half-turned. Coming up at her side was a girl with unnerving golden eyes and long, straight dark hair that contrasted eerily with her pale skin. "You do?"
"I know of him," Cygnet corrected herself. "He's from a powerful 'Family'." She gave Désmoda a significant look. "I think you should let Mr. Targaryen in."
Désmoda took a closer look at the boy. Ghostly skin, white-blond hair. He did bear a resemblance to the man she'd talked to at that last party before one of the sister churches had closed down, apparently condemned. Ha. A church, condemned. But that man was a Targaryen, according to Cin.
Désmoda whispered to Cygnet, "Tell my cousin to make herself scarce. She's friends withー"
"Got it," Cygnet whispered back, going back into the club. A few moments later, Cygnet's voice sounded from the walky talky. "Clear."
Désmoda nodded. "Okay. I apologize for the wait. You can drink for free to compensate, but if you throw up on my girls, you're out. Understood?"
Comments
Post a Comment