Friday night at Rufus' Place. His bar was hopping and grinding away to the fluttering sounds of the Black Hearts. Breaking out the small stage, their songs entrancing the ears, the soulfull drums beating on. The raven haired Joan Jett taking the stage. Her painted lips as she roared into the microphone, siren, casting her spell on the club, "Ah, now I don't hardly know her. But I think I can love her, Crimson and clover."

She stood behind the bar, watching as the gritty voice filled her ears, a song that she never could relate to. Wiping a glass she set it down on the counter, filling it up for a customer. Her blue eyes scanning the crowds clammoring into the small establishment.

"Ah, now when she comes walkin' over. Now I've been waitin' to show her., Crimson and clover. Over and over." Joan rested her breath across the crowd as something struck in Tank Girl. Rufus nodded at her for her to take her break. Making her way through the crowd she swayed her hips. A cigarette draped on her lower lip as she made her way to the back of the bar. Striking a match she lit the cherry, igniting the light as the beat of the drums raged against the floor, thumping through her.

"Yeah, if I'm not such a sweet thing. I wanna do everything. What a beautiful feelin'. Crimson and clover. Over and over." The words penetrated her ears, melding with the smokey flow as she noticed a tall stranger leaning against the wall next to her. Her blue eyes meeting his dark ebony.

Crimson and clover, over and over
Crimson and clover, over and over
Crimson and clover, over and over
Crimson and clover, over and over

Haunting, some sort of familiarity as her cigarette dangled between her fingers, static, electric currents pounding through as she found herself leaning towards him, their eyes locked, as their lips came crashing to each other upon waves.