AUgust24 23 Musician (OCs Lucky, Rosalee)
a/n: Fun times at the Repenta on New Years Eve. The bandleader takes a break. Alcohol and no editing.
Lucky sliced his way through the happy crowd, stopping to dance with two pretty Outfitters and one stunningly attractive Reclaimer along the way. He met his sister at the bar and raised a hand to signal for a drink, ignoring his sister's wry expression.
"You'd get places faster if you focused," Rosalee said, raising her voice to be heard over the music.
The manager of the bar reached them and handed him a miniature shot glass of smoky liquid. Lucky looked with exaggerated pathos at her, but she was as critical as his sister. "You're back on in 5 minutes."
"Extended break," he announced, his clear voice ringing through the noise. "Our bassist is queasy."
"Goddamned Nopon, what was she eating now?" groused the manager.
"Less what she's been eating, more that's she's pregnant," he explained.
"Good for her," the manager said, refilling his glass before moving on.
"So I can spend a little time with my little sister," Lucky said, leaning onto Rosalee's shoulder. She shoved him off, somewhat restrained by the packed crowd around them. "Happy New Year."
"You're getting ahead of yourself," she pointed out.
"By the time the clock strikes 12, I'll be back on stage."
Rosalee frowned. She'd been doing that a lot at him lately. "Again, your missing out on things because of this hobby."
"It's not a hobby, Ro. Playing tonight is a big deal, and we've been drawing good crowds on our own. You should come by more. The city isn't that big." He knew she had once traveled the length of California to hear Diego's band play. That was back when California still existed, when Diego still existed.
Rosalee shook her head. "This isn't you. This is somebody else's dream, and the sooner you focus on what's important, the better for you. I know you're better than working with the Reclaimers." She leaned towards him, her eyes sharp. "I still have friends in the Interceptors. I could hook you up with a really good team, people you can trust to do big things with."
"Not the Harriers?" he teased. It hurt to have her dismiss his music, but at least she believed in him as a fighter. At least she was calling him her brother, which was more than when he'd first come to New Los Angeles, wearing the shape of Diego and carrying none of his memories. "You've been with that division for almost two months so I'm sure you know everyone."
"No, sorry," she said. "That's the other reason I haven't been to watch you. I'm only just getting my feet on the ground. But if you wanted to join, that would be great. We could team together," she said.
Even through the pulsing club music, he could hear a note of wistfulness. "How about this? I'll put taking you out to dinner on my list of resolutions."
"Pfffft," she snorted. "Like you make them or keep them. I know you. You flutter back and forth, like life was a dance floor."
He tilted his narrow face in mock disappointment. "I'm wounded. Just because I don't slave over a list and then bitterly struggle to keep to it for months doesn't mean I don't make New Year's resolutions. I just focus on what I can get done fast."
"What? Like finish your drink?"
"Sure. Done," he said, matching action to words. He swapped his empty glass with her half-full beer. "I'm gonna kiss a pretty girl, probably by the end of the night. And I'll take you to dinner at the Secret Sushi."
"What's that?"
"Pop-up restaurant. It opens at the end of January."
"Oooh," she mocked. "Looking that far ahead."
He continued, between rapid sips of her beer. "And I'm going to take the No-Neck Take Down seminar."
At the foolish name for the training program against the largest, most robust enemy fauna on the planet, Rosalee stared at him. "No way. The one that Doug Barrett teaches?" At his nod, she frowned, drawing her perfectly shaped eyebrows together until they almost touched. "That's hard to get into, though. He only runs it two or three times a year, and you can't just ask for it. But I'll help you cram for the selection process, whatever it takes to help you get in."
"I already got in," Lucky said smugly, "and it starts Tuesday. That's why I'm not taking you to dinner until the end of the month. I am going to be busy."
He liked watching the pride that filled Rosalee's face. "Damn, Lucky, I will buy you dinner once you finish. And you will finish. Or I will finish you."
"Get in line behind Gradivus, the Headless Emperor."
"Nope. I'm your sister. I need some kind of reward for having you as a pesky little brother."
On the stage, Lucky could see the drummer returning. The rest of the band would be back soon, so he drained Rosalee's beer and pushed himself away. "Oh, and I have a song that needs writing. I've got an idea already and..."
"Focus on the important stuff. Like killing big tyrants," his sister interrupted. "And not blowing this job, I guess." She shoved him into the crowd.
a/n: The Reclaimer is not Yelv. This is the opening to a longer story, finished but not posted. It needed a rewrite so I took the prompt as an excuse. The siblings show up in detail in Rosalee and Lucky.
Next up: Don't know, but it will have to be very short because I'm going on an outing.