"Hange! Please be careful!"
Petra watched, astounded as a young, skinny tech guy with thin eyebrows and light brown hair chased the young drummer in a panic across the bar. She was mostly naked now; having lost her shirt, gloves and cargo pants somewhere along the way. The only thing she still sported from the concert were her goggles, now crooked on her head, with her ponytail quite dishevelled. Hange seemed to mostly ignore him, shouting what Petra assumed to be the guy's name back as she ran; hurrying across the room with her breasts hanging half out and her panties half-off. Moblit. It was a strange name.
Sweat gleaned on the nearly nude form of the loud drummer, her new lack of clothes revealing her to be rather well-toned as Moblit chased her about in a frenzy, obviously very nervous and reddened in the face; either from the physical challenge of trying to constrain Hange, her lack of clothing, the heat in the room or a combination of the three. Petra imagined the last to be most likely. The cackling, bespeckled woman carried a large bottle of some sort of hard liquor in her hand, shouting as she went, and Moblit got her to the ground, trying to restrain her. With this, she started to mock-shout, in her nasally yet guttural voice for help, her face painted with heat and intoxication.
"I think you've had enough, Hange."
Nasalised giggles erupted from her dishevelled form, half-rolling on the cold floor beneath him; a relieving, harsh contrast against the heat of the bar and her skin. He sat over her, his crotch on her stomach to pin her down, his arms on her wrists as she let the bottle of alcohol roll away from her, the sound of liquid sloshing in rolling glass next to their heads, before taking the nape of her assistant's neck in hand. She pulled his face down to her, kissing him deeply in a drunken stupor, to which he became ever flustered, not knowing exactly what to do; he WAS sitting on top of a half-naked woman to whom he was attracted.
"Not of you."
He panicked slightly, blushing fervently from her actions, feeling suddenly so hot he might faint. Erwin and Mike watched from across the bar, chuckling at his situation. Hange kissed him passionately for a spell and as her heart rate slowed, heavy lids fell closed over her chocolate orbs from the effects of the alcohol. He stood, gathering her into his arms to carry her across the bar as she laid with her head back against his arm, with the nook of her knees over his other, mouth half-open to the air in drunken sleep. Erwin half-chuckled at the site of her like this, motioning Moblit to take her off somewhere safe, telling him he'd done well with a half-smirk. Moblit wasn't exactly certain how to interpret Erwin's demeanour, but seemingly did as instructed; carrying his beautiful, drunken dame out in his arms, like a strange, band-techie knight. It seemed they were used to her getting out of hand.
"Petra."
She was startled by Erd calling her name, leaning over her from behind.
"We should move away from the door."
She laughed nervously and then nodded to him in agreement. She hadn't realised she had been standing in the same spot this whole time. The sight had simply been more than she had expected, and she now looked up to take in the rest of the bar; a lot of really drunk people all laughing, flirting and dancing sexually. A few people passed out here and there. It was truly a mess. The Wings of Freedom had reserved the bar for a reason, which was in part because it always ended up trashed. It was a similar atmosphere to that of the concert hall; loud, flashing lights. It smelled of a variety of pungent odours; sweat, drugs and the like. It was a fairly well-lit room with a raised dance floor. The floors and walls were of metal, and there were azure lights lining the seams of the bar island, really brightening the area. There was a large neon sign behind the bar that extended for what seemed forever along the side wall, again depicting the sassy profile of a European dame, the namesake of the bar, Wall María. Areas on lined either side of the dance floor with cool, slick, pleather blue couches that were low to the ground, often in C shape, for lounging; various men and women were strewn about these, different groups of people congregating throughout the bar. It was a lot bigger inside than she would have guessed from its outward appearance; a very hip, modern place. Glancing over to the bar, to which they headed, she leaned against one of the stools; consisting of a single silver metal rod that protruded from the floor with a smooth, blue plastic seat on top. The atmosphere was energizing, and the lights along the underside of the bar left a pattern of blue glares across the floor. Auruo turned to Petra.
"How about you let me treat you as reward for introducing you to something called 'fun.'"
Erd laughed, and copper orbs darted to Auruo with brows raised, unamused, before sighing and nodding. Auruo smirked, leaning against the bar, as he said in his most drawn-out, bad-boy tone yet that he needed a lovely drink for a lovely woman. The bartender gave him a wary look; as if Auruo was crazy but got him what he ordered; he was seemingly getting more used to this whacked-out crowd. Auruo nodded to him as though they were friends, a look he no doubtedly thought was "cool" spread across his face, like a pouting gangster, to silently say "thanks bro," tossing money on the table like it was no big deal and, smirking to Petra, handed her the drink.
Petra looked in to her glass, noting the slices of fruit that bubbled inside, trapped beneath the wall of ice in her pink drink. She had ordered some fruity alcoholic beverage. She actually hated the taste of alcohol and figured their fruitiest drink the best way to cover it up. In the end, she didn't end up finishing it; she let it sit down somewhere, pretending to have done so because she didn't want to upset Auruo, but it was just awful. The night passed quickly; various guys flirted with her, she danced with both Erd and Auruo several times over, and her feet began to ache. She consumed a variety of drinks, eventually settling on some Austrian drink as her favourite; jaga— something it was called. Consisting of hot black tea, and a couple of shots of dark rum, red wine and fruit schnapps. She danced the night away, Auruo or some random other buying her drinks as she lost herself anew in that heated atmosphere. Two or three drinks in—not including the awful one she had thrown out—she stood to the side to rest a tad; she had had sooo much fun dancing the night away to tunes she didn't know, but her feet ached awfully in those boots and this made her slightly less stable in combination with the alcohol. She leaned against one of the high, stool chairs and looked up, to see some bad boy across the way staring her down with hungry eyes. He was well toned, and not much taller than she; small eyes with a pompous, domineering look in them. He was attractive, she would give him that. He had the lower half of his scalp shaved, and jet black hair, with bangs that hung slightly over his brow—an undercut they called it. He tossed his head to the side, silky, raven locks sweeping with the motion over a flat brow, a coy glint reflected in his charcoal orbs. He did this all rather pompously, motioning with a wave of his hand that she come join him. She pointed to herself, an eyebrow raised, and scoffed a bit, waving her hand back at him as if to say "shoo". His eyes widened slightly, rather in shock, and he corrected his expression to one of flirtation and…determination. She was wearing his band logo, had been on stage at his concert, won free tickets and was scantily-clad… these women didn't turn him down. Challenge accepted.
Now ignoring him, she leaned back against the stool and then headed over to a small, slick, taught blue couch to rest her feet a bit. She didn't want to have to face the strain of supporting herself on a high stool with no back. She leaned back on the otherwise empty cushioning, realizing that she had long lost track of both Auruo and Erd. She thought she saw the latter in the sea of heads strewn about the dance floor, dancing quite sexually with a scantily-clad wavy-haired blonde, but there were so many people, she couldn't be certain without approaching him and…. he was quite a distance from her…. and…. her feet ached. One of the songs from this evening's concert started to play, and she tilted her head back against the top of the couch, closing her eyes for a moment, replaying the night's events in her mind.
Her amber orbs were startled open by the sound of someone sensually whispering the lyrics to this song she didn't know in her ear, breathy and hot against her lobe. Copper eyes lifted to see the short, cocky guy standing next to her, grasping on to one of the poles that supported the building in the middle of the room as he bent over the back of the couch. He wore a sleeveless shirt with the band logo embroidered at the chest with a dark blue and white plaid square scarf, the kind that makes a hanging triangle in layers at the neck with tasselled fringe along it. He had stern, commanding eyes; they were surely his most defining feature.
"Miss me, Honey?"
Great, some guy from the concert who remembered the nickname that the hot vocalist had given her during one of the most embarrassing moments of her life; basically half-naked in front of a crowd of people and too nervous to speak. She decided to play along, partially due to her recent intoxication. Leaning over the couch from behind, he handed her a hot jaga— thing. This time of earl grey tea. It was divine. Only tea could make something as awful as alcohol edible. She flicked her eyes up at him in flirtation and shifted a bit in her seat, looking over the rim of her mug as she drank. He found this view of her from above fairly arousing and raised a brow, his lips a stern line, taking in the curves of her breasts through the her tight, dark blue tube top in cold-shoulder style. She was fairly fit, and he followed the curves of her breasts down to her abdomen and then further to the grooves of her hips that only teased his eyes, as her taught, pleated skirt blocked him from going any further.
He plopped himself down next to her, crossing a leg over the other as she shifted near her, talking rather flatly and idly about band things; all the typical things his fangirls were interested in about him. She seemed wholeheartedly interested, likely only because she was somewhat drunk. He came to learn that she studied political science and was active in human rights, which turned him on all the more. A hot fangirl was a hot fangirl but an intelligent, hot fangirl was all the better. His band actually cared about their music and its message—it was in truth, how he had come to join such a filthy crowd. Some forty minutes of flirtation and another drink later, she began to feel somewhat hot for him; though she didn't even know who he was. The stern lines of his face and the tone of his voice made her melt—everything about him felt so familiar and yet, so foreign in one. He put an arm over her shoulders, spiced with freckles—her intoxicated skin searing against his own. As she got slightly teasing with him, he took her chin in his hand and turned her stunning face to his own, kissing her rather deeply, biting her lower lip gently as he pulled back. She sat up a bit in her slightly drunken stupor, feeling a warm moistness build in her groin with his behaviour and she leaned forward, half crawling onto him, her slick tights brushing either side of his right pant leg as she propped herself on her knees, beginning to play a fervent game of lips in return, somewhat sporadically. A warm, rolling, purring sound erupted from his throat with her actions and he pushed her off of him back onto the seat of the couch, crawling over top of her, ravaging her through her clothes a bit as he laid kisses over the tender skin of her neck, leaving marks that would likely serve later as the not sole reminder of this evening; feeling her plump, delicate breasts through their confines of cloth with rigid hands. She cooed at him in waves as he measured her form with his grip before leaning forward, whispering with hot breath in her ear through dishevelled, copper locks that it might be best to go somewhere a bit emptier… and… cleaner. As he leaned over her, his bangs caressed the side of her face and, pulling back, he saw that she nodded to him, her lips pouched slightly in flirtation, her eyebrows lowered a bit, her face reddened in light intoxication and sexual arousal. Her honey orbs peered at him from between long, darkened lashes from her makeup and he couldn't help himself but to make her to her feet quickly, guiding her along through the loud and energized crowd.