"Senza tentazioni, senza onore."

[sharktrash]

Who: Squalo and -- you?
What: Squalo decided not to let his bandmates one-up him and went to have his own "seasonal" performance. For fun. Or so they say. He's got Empathic Influence now, so... have fun getting just a little bit too into those songs and enjoy all those new, excellent and healthy emotions that you're suddenly feeling!
When: Feb 13th
Where: "The Variable", alternative music club in Vista City
Warnings: ...Squalo. Aka: profanity, violence, public indecency, drug use, will add as necessary.


(( See comments for prompts! ))

Comments

[wickedlyable]

You're telling me. It's more like... checking some shit off a to-do-list. Like, got that out of the way. [ Johanna bites her lip, shaking her head. ] I don't get it. I was in a bunch of weird places too in those visions too. But I've never left this place in my life.

[sharktrash]

Maybe it was just a boring one.

[ He shrugs a bit and frowns, watching her. The hell is he supposed to say? It's been more and more clear they're not just dreams. Not after he woke up with a fucking prosthetic arm. ]

...not in this life. Or maybe it's some very elaborate collective madness. [ He side-eyes some party goers that had wandered a bit too close to the table. ] Maybe we should talk somewhere more private.

[ Surprisingly, he's not making a sex suggestion right now. ]

[wickedlyable]

[ She makes a noncommittal sound at his words, tilting her head from one side to another. ] Well, I did try to kill you, so madness sounds about right.

[ What he says when he goes on makes her smirk, though. ] Somewhere private? Even after that tabloid? That's forward of you. [ She laughs shortly, getting to her feet and setting her glass down on the table. ] Lead the way. It's not like I could possibly give a shit about my reputation getting any worse.

[sharktrash]

[ He snorts and gets up as well. The sound booth backstage seems empty, so he'll probably head there. As if he cares about tabloids. Much. ]

Keep this up and I might actually give you the time of your life instead of comparing fucking notes.

[wickedlyable]

Cause I'd definitely rather talk about killing people than have sex. [ She rolls her eyes as she follows, hands stuffed in the pockets of her jacket as she glances around warily. ]

So, what's so secret that we need the extra privacy for it?

[sharktrash]

What, are you telling me you wouldn't?

[ He's probably teasing. But she does sort of give out a vibe that says she'd break all limbs of whoever tried to touch her that way. Maybe he's mistaken. ]

Should've gone here from the start. There's no big secret, but... [ Frowning. ] As much as I'd love to write it all off on madness, it can't be. There's multiple people -- seeing, or imagining things. I'd dare to claim it's affecting most of the label newcomers, actually. Whatever this shit is it's gotta be bigger than you or me.

[wickedlyable]

Hey, you don't know me. [ Except he's not wrong at all and sex is becoming more and more gross to her as the days go on. just wait until you find out why, babe. ]

And here I thought we were special. [ She crosses her arms over her chest, raising her chin. ] So what do people think it is? Some sort of mass hallucination? Are we all tripping on drugs? [ The possibilities are ~endless~. ]

[sharktrash]

Well, I'd love to know you better, then. [ Biblically. Or, you know, not. She's just fierce enough for him to regard her as a person rather than potential banging material which most women seem to be relegated to. ]

Hmm. [ He can't dismiss those possibilities, but... ] Suppose it's real, though. What would that suggest?

[wickedlyable]

Another time, maybe. [ Wow, she's touched. Really. ]

Well, that would suggest that we're really fucked up people. [ And after a moment considering this, she adds on- ] And that we've been taken away from... wherever we are in our weird visions.

[sharktrash]

Just say a word. [ ;) ]

[ He snorts a bit, but he really can't argue with that. Fucked up doesn't even begin to cover it. ] Yes. Which would imply that something or someone needed a bunch of really fucked up people... for some reason.