Evening of August 31st, 1895 — The Velvet Veil, Main Club

Ahn-Bo had heard mentions of a social club that would indulge his proclivities, but it had taken him sometime to get away from his brothers and out of the Collectors claws (if only for the night.) Technically, he'd told their puppet master that the social club catered to the upper class, both male and female. There hadn't been any other questions asked—likely because one of the others had the majority of his attention. It went along with the goals of establishing themselves in society, and if it provided him the potential to find a rich, British wife, then all the better.

The club had been more than he'd been expecting, if he were honest, especially for a weekday.

A brunette wearing snakes wrapped around her instead of clothes danced on the stage, accompanied by a group of house elves playing a variety of instruments. There was a line at the bar, and the majority of tables didn't have any open seats. He took it as a good sign.

To start the night off on a good note, Ahn-Bo bee-lined it for the bar.

Apparently, the poltergeist bartender was making drinks with a 'slime' theme tonight, and a few of the patrons weren't too happy about the order they received. From what he could tell, it didn't make a difference. The one he ended up with was the color and consistency of vomit. He held it up to his nose to sniff. It didn't smell like vomit. With a shrug, he took a long drink. It tasted... good, surprisingly.

Though someone else may not have agreed, the contents of one of the slimy drinks splashed directly into his chest.

Open to 1-2 others. Ahn-Bo's looking for friends and/or hookups, any class, rep, or gender. I want to get him established as a recognizable member here!

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   Gilbert Prusseneit

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{Ahn-Bo speaks in Korean to his family unless otherwise stated in posts.}

Set by the amazing Fox!

Don Juan's collection of available vices was shrinking, but the Velvet Veil was one of the few establishments that still had plenty of entertainment on offer. Even without the temptation of drugs or the promise of a night full of drinking, there was usually something that could hold his attention up on the stage... and when there wasn't, there was certainly someone to hold his attention seated somewhere in the club. Tonight he'd found himself more interested in the company than the performance. The writhing of the snakes was a little unsettling, if he was being honest (which of course he seldom was, even with himself); the blond at the table who had laced her corset so tightly her breasts had practically become a shelf was a much more enticing option. She was here to meet someone else, but he shrugged that off and bought her a drink and charmed his way into the spot beside her at the booth. He regaled her with half a dozen stories, one or two of which were true. By the time she'd finished the first drink and he'd waved the waitstaff for another she had stopped protesting about the person she was actually here to meet and was leaning up against his side and fluttering her eyelashes at him and giggling.

"Dempsey," someone growled, and Don Juan barely had time to glance over his shoulder before that same someone had laid hands on him and hauled him up out of the booth. The man she was actually here to meet, presumably, finally arrived and none too pleased to find his affair partner heads-down with someone else. Perhaps someone else might have been given a chance to explain themselves, but Don Juan's reputation proceeded him; there were no mistaking his intentions in buying drinks for pretty women at a club like this. The interloper spat out a threat that would have made a sailor blush and shoved Don Juan back from the table rather roughly. Don Juan hadn't even had a chance to get his feet under him yet and went sprawling, directly into the waiter who had been bringing the woman's second drink. The drink went splattering onto another patron's shirt, followed by the waiter's tray, followed by Don Juan.

"Well, listen," Don Juan protested, still focused on the gentleman who had shoved him even as he threw an arm around the man he'd been thrown in to in an effort to regain his balance. "You ought to be thanking me for keeping her entertained while you ran late. She might've up and left by now, languishing that long on her own. Not especially gentleman-ly of you," he chided. He wasn't especially keen to get himself into a fight tonight, but he had to put up a bit of a show for the sake of his pride. And if he managed to get out of this making the other man look more foolish than him, he might come back and find the blond here again tomorrow night, without the interruption.

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   Ahn-Bo Jeong

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MJ made this <3

Before he'd had a chance to react to the cold slime that covered his front, something flat hit his chest and clattered noisily to the floor—immediately followed by a body being flung his way. "Aish," He grunted as the wind was nearly knocked out of his lungs, the momentum forcing him to take a few steps back. Ahn-Bo had instinctively put his hands out to catch the person, the drink completely forgotten—dumped along the person's back. It was while their arm was flung around his shoulder that he caught on to what was happening. Sort of. It wasn't entirely clear. A glance between the man dangling from his neck and the one who had definitely been the one to shove said dangling man gave him enough context that he had a pretty safe guess.

Ahn-Bo tried to help the presumably inebriated man stand back on his feet. It was easier said than done with the floor covered in the same slippery green slime that they were. The spectacle had gotten the attention of several other patrons, who craned their necks to get a better view. Wasn't this an interesting turn of events? "What a poor sport," He chided the offender, mimicking his new pal's tone. The man received a mocking once-over before he added, "Who could blame her for trading up in your absence?" (To be fair, he hadn't had a good look at the dangling man's face, but that hardly mattered. Ahn-Bo had chosen his side, and he was no quitter.)

aish: similar to 'damn it'

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   Don Juan Dempsey

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{Ahn-Bo speaks in Korean to his family unless otherwise stated in posts.}

Set by the amazing Fox!

If the man he'd grabbed on to had merely shoved him back towards his feet and moved on Don Juan would never have spared a glance in his direction. He wouldn't have begrudged him shuffling along either, when this quite clearly wasn't his fight. When he spoke up in Don Juan's favor, though, Don Juan cast an appraising gaze towards his unexpected ally. Young, tall, and handsome — the sort of charming features that made one find him immediately credible. An exceptional person to have jeering along with him, Don Juan decided immediately. In a club like this, rife with drunkards and drug addicts, he certainly might have done worse. He was practically beaming when he turned back towards the flustered woman at the table and her disgruntled beau.

"Poor sport indeed. Unfortunately that's what happens when you're no good at the game," Don Juan taunted. The man shifted his weight to half-block the woman and the table behind him from view, and Don Juan took this as a positive sign. He wanted to get on with his night and presumably get his cock wet. He wasn't moving aggressively, not intent on starting a fight. Don Juan leaned over so he could make eye contact with the blond again and gave a friendly wave. "Another time," he promised, tone jovial. "My friend and I need to go clean up." At least, Don Juan presumed he did, since his back felt wet and sticky. He could see the evidence of the cocktails all down the younger man's front. Probably he'd have to offer to replace the shirt; it was the polite thing to do, and that green goop didn't look especially easy to clean off in the water closet sink.

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   Ahn-Bo Jeong

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MJ made this <3

They had known each other for a mere few seconds, and already Ahn-Bo felt a sense of affinity toward this new friend. He was good-looking enough, if a bit older, and had an air of 'no fucks to give' that was thrilling. He'd been in the west for a month. Up until this point, it was assumed that all the British were bland and stuffy (and this would be a very boring era of his life.) What a relief it was to know that he simply hadn't been in the appropriate location.

Had the interaction turned violent again, the werewolf would have jumped right into the fray. It would have been a great excuse to release his pent up frustrations, but alas, it would seem the affronted beau thought better of two against one. Fair enough, though disappointing. Ahn-Bo gave a wave of his own, though this was directed at their mutual enemy, a cocky smirk on his lips. Maybe the woman would realize her mistake and come find them later in the evening. They were certain to be more amusing than the prick. For now, it seemed she would be occupied with bickering.

The excitement had died down far too quickly, though the night was still young. Ahn-Bo hadn't the slightest idea how to get the green sludge off either of their clothes. He'd never been responsible for doing any sort of his own cleaning. There was likely a spell or some such that would make it easy. If his new friend didn't know it either, he was prepared to accept his fate of being green and sticky for the remainder of the evening. (He'd had much worse.) A playful brow was raised at his equally slimy companion. "Do you get thrown around often?"

  

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{Ahn-Bo speaks in Korean to his family unless otherwise stated in posts.}

Set by the amazing Fox!

Don Juan kept a hold of the man's shoulders as they navigated their way out of the puddle of goop, so as to avoid either of them losing their balance. Once they were on more solid footing slid his hand down to hook through the gentleman's arm, adopting a more casual posture while still being able to steer him towards the retiring rooms. The phrasing of the question leveled at him made him laugh, though he wasn't sure whether the stranger had intended it to be provocative or whether it was a naive accident. "It has been known to happen," Don Juan agreed with a grin. His demeanor suggested both that he accepted no degree of blame whatsoever for any such incidents, and that he enjoyed them immensely. Like a cat destroying a ball of yarn in a fit of play; no one could accuse the cat of mischief when it was simply acting in its nature. "Though usually when I'm being thrown around it's a lot more fun for both parties."

They had reached the men's retiring area. Don Juan let go of the man's arm and opened the door with such gusto he may as well have been throwing open the doors to a palace, and strode in with the confidence of a king. Along one long wall of the room were a row of water faucets over a trough-like basin, while the space opposite was divided into a small lounging area with armchairs (currently empty; probably a credit to the performers outside) and a doorway to the lavatories. The sound from the band deadened immediately when the door shut behind them. Don Juan wasted no time in peeling off his own coat. "Alright, let's see the damage."

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   Ahn-Bo Jeong

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MJ made this <3

Once they were free from the fall risk, he’d expected the man to release him. Instead, he'd simply switched to something more casual—and tugged him along, presumably to the washroom. They could have been headed to a pit of vipers, and Ahn-Bo wouldn't have cared. So long as he had some company and entertainment, he was as content as he could ever be. If the prolonged contact wasn't notable enough, the teasing response he'd received had made it very clear. They had more in common than just their soiled clothing. Ahn-Bo smirked. and stated dryly, "A relief to hear."

The man's swagger was highly entertaining. Ahn-Bo was full of himself—his brothers reminded him constantly—but even he didn't have the level of confident charisma that this stranger did. The door had barely swung closed behind them before clothing was being removed. The lighting in the room was brighter than it had been outside, offering him a better view of said damage. Ahn-Bo gave the man a once over in appreciative perusal. With a layer removed and the ability to see more clearly, he found himself rather glad that he'd been crashed into. After a quick glance at the slimy coat, he grinned, "Seems like it may be salvageable. You had a distinct lack of impact to have it really set in."

With that, he turned his attention to his own clothing—the front of which was looking worse for wear and very, very green. Ahn-Bo didn't even need to look to know that it had soaked through every layer between his coat and skin. He could feel it, which wasn't entirely pleasant. "Though, I may be a lost cause," he said wryly as he opened his coat to confirm his suspicions.

  

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{Ahn-Bo speaks in Korean to his family unless otherwise stated in posts.}

Set by the amazing Fox!

"Light on my feet," Don Juan teased. More like entirely off them at the moment the drink had hit him; if he hadn't grabbed on to this fellow he would have been on the floor in the puddle of goo, which would have been much less dignified a retreat. In any case, his own coat wasn't in much trouble as it turned out. Only a thin coat of slime, and the color was dark enough it barely showed. Still, it was sticky and he imagined it might smell, so he started running a sink full of water and crumpled it in the bottom all the same.

As to the other man, he did seem far worse for wear. That was a white shirt...or it had been, once. "Well, you never know," he said, trying to stay optimistic until it was no longer possible. "Maybe with some magic before it sets in. Take it off, let's see," he said. His tone was casual, as he didn't think twice of shedding clothing in a gender-specific space (clearly), but it occurred to him after he said it that some people might. Not many people who frequented the Velvet Veil, though... this wasn't a club for prudes, but he didn't look like a regular visitor either. At least not one that Don Juan recognized. "Are you new here?"

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MJ made this <3

It didn’t matter whether the man actually knew any laundering spells that would save his shirt. He wasn’t the one who had to buy another (and he wasn’t about to bring it home to become Noona’s problem.) He tugged his coat off, tossing it on the edge of a washbasin, quickly followed by his waistcoat. The stranger didn’t know this yet, but Ahn-Bo worked religiously on his physique-mostly so he could show it off whenever he had the chance.

”Have I made it so obvious?” he pulled a sheepish expression. ”My family just settled here from Joseon. I’m Ahn-Bo Jeong,” he glanced up from his shirt buttons to catch the man’s eye, curious whether he’d heard of the small country. It was a good distance away and felt very far removed from the great hustle and bustle of Britain. The tiny buttons the English used were tricky to get used to-he still wasn’t able to unbutton them without fully seeing what he was doing. His attention returned to the task at hand, which was made more difficult now that everything was simultaneously sticky and slippery.

  

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{Ahn-Bo speaks in Korean to his family unless otherwise stated in posts.}

Set by the amazing Fox!

Don Juan had never heard of Joseon, but he could take a stab at its location based on the appearance of the man in front of him. There was something of an unspoken question in his glance. Don Juan made an expression in response that was almost apologetic, though still affable. "I've mostly traveled in Europe. Don Juan Dempsey."

Don Juan turned his attention to the discarded garments on the counter, though they were free from the worst of the stain. He splashed a little water from the sink on one lapel and blotted it with a hand towel, which was mostly ineffective but at least made a good show of his doing something productive. "Appreciate you lending a hand back there. If he'd gotten too handsy they might've kicked us both out for fighting, and the rest of my night would have been woefully dull." If they did kick him out he was sure they'd forgive him and let him back in the next day, or maybe even in a few hours if he bothered coming back. He was a regular here and the Veil wasn't in the habit of making enemies of patrons with money. He was more or less always trouble, but most of the time it was the kind of trouble that was good for business... the blond was surely enjoying herself more with his company than she was alone, for instance.

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MJ made this <3

Finally, he won his struggle against the buttons. The stiff fabric was peeled away and tossed onto the other side of the washbasin. Mr. Dempsey had already begun scrubbing away at the lapel of his coat. It was difficult to judge from his angle. Ahn-Bo knew nothing of laundering, but he was almost positive that a splash of water from the sink wasn't going to do the trick. He turned his attention to his chest and stomach and grimaced. The drink had indeed gone through the fabric and now was a rather unpleasant texture.

"We couldn't have had that, could we?" He teased as he used a damp hand towel to clean up. "I would have had to step up as a gentleman and entertain your lady friend myself. Who would have done the laundering for me, then?" Thankfully, the green had been fairly easy to clean away. He'd been half concerned it would leave his skin with a strange green tint that he'd have to explain away later. His attention turned to the shirt he'd just removed, brow furrowed. It was very, very green. Unsure of what else to do, he shoved the entire thing in the washbasin and poured as much water as he could over it. Greenish water bounced off the sink as he did so, splashing everything nearby (including Don Juan.)

  

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{Ahn-Bo speaks in Korean to his family unless otherwise stated in posts.}

Set by the amazing Fox!

Don Juan grinned at that. "Well, happy to be your laundress in exchange," he joked, looking up from the jacket to shoot the other man a sardonic smile. That earned him his first good look at Jeong's bare chest. Whoosh! The definition rivaled Dean's, and Dean was one of the fittest people Don Juan had had the pleasure of sleeping with. Don Juan hadn't been expecting that in the least, and consequently his gaze might have lingered a second too long before the splash of water shook him back to his senses.

"I'll send you a new shirt, if it's unsalvagable," he said, taking a step back from the sink and looking around for a towel to clean his own shirt sleeves where they'd been splattered with watery green. (Maybe he should take his shirt off too, for the benefit of his clothing...) "But I'm afraid that wouldn't do you much good tonight. "

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MJ made this <3