<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/r1Jckqn.png)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Vane<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Afterlife<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Eva<br/><strong>Content:</strong>Just one smooth choom<br/><hr/><hr/><br/>With his first piece of drama already out of the way the Irish (or at least, Irish descent) Solo released a sigh of relief. While he had no fear for his life certain implants tended to get into hype mode almost immediately. It was probably be best if he avoided any uppers for the next little while. Just in case. There was a certain multi-coloured powder that tended to set off internal alarms to such a severity his ripper doc felt a sympathy heart attack from half way across town. The price people paid for being a chrome demi-god.<br/><br/>Taking a moment to brush some imaginary dust from his shirt Vane finally strode inside, a relaxed smile gracing his face as the oppressive loud music started to reverberate in his chest. Afterlife wasn't the sort of place one went to for a quiet drink. It was a place that made you feel alive. Vane had lost countless nights to Afterlife, a haze of colour and half memories. Getting into an argument with someone that nearly turned to fisticuffs but before long being shoulder to shoulder in solidarity while they serenaded some poor girl who didn't want the attention. Getting post job drinks when you were particularly flush with eddies until sunrise, then stumbling out of the place and being stung by mornings first light. People still wondered why he wore shades all the time. It was a matter of survival for a regular of<em>Afterlife</em>. Adapting to its beautiful darkness and then emerging into the real world had half burned out his retinas. Nevermind all the Biz he had arranged in those walls.<br/><br/>He passed Emmerick with a wordless fight bump like two old chooms. He was a nice guy, had carried Vane out more than a few times and put him in a taxi. Admittedly Rogue's instructions may have had a hand in that. Vane had made Rogue a lot of fucking money.<em>A lot of money</em>. Hopefully plenty more to come.<br/><br/>Once inside he took a moment to scan his surroundings, figuratively and literally. A chromed thumbs up or a simple nod to some of the usual faces he recognised. It didn't take long however before he was at the bar counter. "<strong>Claire my darling, I'll be having something fancy tonight. So you might want to write this down.</strong>" the look on her face suggested she did not believe him. "<em>I swear to God Vane, if you say Broseph-</em>" of course he immediately cut her off "<strong>A Broseph Ale!</strong>" it was an old joke of his. Poor Claire had heard it a thousand times but it never stopped amusing him. Or her if she were in a good mood. Though a heartbeat later something caught sight of something in the corner of his eye. His relaxed smile curling somewhat further. "<strong>Actually....two Centzon tequilas, if you'd be so kind.</strong>" Claire's eyes shifted in the same direction his had a moment earlier, if she were about to make some sort of comment however she was cut off with a glance that was obvious even behind the aviators.<br/><br/>With a pair of drinks in hand Vane started to cross the club floor. Even now he was half-dancing though if it was to the music being played or something in his head it wasn't particularly clear until in defiance of the song blaring out he started into his own.<br/><br/><div align="center">"<em>i see your eyes, i know you see me,<br/>you're like a ghost how you're everywhere,<br/>I am your demon never leaving,<br/>a metal soul of rage and fear.<br/><br/>That one thing that changed it all,<br/>that one sin that caused the fall.<br/><br/>A thing of beauty - I know<br/>will never fade away.</em>"</div><br/>The ending flourish arrived just in time for the Solo to find himself now positioned right before the favourite little spot in Afterlife of one Evangeline. The smile on his face settled into something natural, the sort of relaxed one could only achieve when with trusted people at truly at ease. "<strong>Hey Eva.</strong>" no line or quip. "<strong>How are you tonight?</strong>" something of his bravado had been tucked away and instead Vane simply offered the second glass of tequila. "<strong>Sláinte.</strong>" It was the Irish phrase for 'Cheers!' (though it literally meant health). A gentle tip of his glass to hers before bringing his own to his lips. Finally some of that sweet nectar.<br/><br/>