I'm Good at Being Uncomfortable (Charlie)

[Noa Reese]

Tonight's act for Noa was absolutely fantastic. She'd had a great time choreographing it, playing with bits of pantomime and general adorableness - oh, and steampunk. It wasn't her fault she loved the style; it included corsetry and lace, she couldn't help it. She'd played a painted automaton doll that broke out of it's programming into something a little more... comfortable. It was a blast, really, especially playing that sort of innocent sexy... it was fun, and it had her in a very different mood from last week's show. Last week she'd felt like a fiery temptress and this week... she just felt sunny and cute. More playful, less devious.

Following her act, she pulled back on a few pieces of her costume and her comfy black hoodie and made her way back out toward the bar, as she had the week before, to watch the next act perform. Yes, she may have looked odd wearing the whole latex stocking getup with a hoodie, but she'd stopped caring about how disparate her post-show outfits were back when she'd started theater in eighth grade. Her arms were pretty warm with the gear-patterned leather bracers, though, so she rolled up her sleeves and got to work unbuckling them as she sat at one of the bar stools.

Her head still in bubbly innocent space, it took her a moment to notice the new bartender. "Oh." She blinked wide eyes at him for a moment before smiling. "Hello." Her mind was still in the clouds, but it was slowly beginning it's descent down to earth. Very slowly. She hadn't even taken notice of how cute he was yet, too busy with the childish curiosity regarding exactly who he might be. "I'm Noa," she had unbuckled one of the bracers, and pulled that off before offering her hand to shake, beaming openly.

If she ever thought about her behavior too much, she might be a little disturbed by how easily and deeply she slipped into the role of youthful innocence. Because it wasn't a ruse: she truly took on that role, when in the right situation for it. And a performance high, set in that headspace, really was the right situation. It would take her a good ten minutes to leave that delightful place unless something pulled her out of it by force, like anger or action. But she didn't mind the wait. It was nice while it lasted.

[Charlie Pearson]

It was Charlie's first day at Le Maison Magnifique, or the House as it was more commonly known and it was a little daunting. Charlie, dressed in black trousers, black shirt (sleeves rolled neatly up) and black tie, was working at the bar on Fridays (today), Saturdays and Sundays - somewhere his newly discovered hobby was proving to be very useful. Streams of people came through the door, mainly in large groups, which meant a lot of work for Charlie. There were at least three other bartenders, none of whom Charlie knew the names of, and they were kept extremely busy all night. By the time the rush of the night had calmed down slightly Charlie was relatively confident that he was doing a decent job. He had remembered to keep a cheery disposition and a smile on his face, even if it made him slightly uncomfortable.

The performers on stage hadn't exactly captured his interest. They were all the prima donnas of life, (literally, in this case) all the queen bees that he had looked down on at school. So when the girl performed her piece as the creepy doll, Charlie didn't even notice. He wasn't watching as she came down from the dressing rooms and walked over to his bar. His back was turned as she sat down, so he had a bit of a shock when he turned around and saw the strangely dressed girl sitting on a stool, unbuckling her costume. The thought of her being a dancer wasn't actually his first, but he soon figured it out. There was something familiar about her as well, but he wasn't sure what. Trying to be polite as always, he shook her hand when she offered.
"I'm Charlie." Not wanting to leave the conversation awkwardly silent after they let go, he spoke again. "I'm guessing you're one of the dancers, right? Can I get you a drink?" Maybe that wasn't the best idea, as Charlie had no idea whether or not he should charge, or if Noa was allowed a staff discount if he did. He still had a lot to learn, after all. He could ask one of the other bartenders, but they looked busy and, honestly, he was a little embarrassed.

[Noa Reese]

Noa grinned, "Nice ta meetcha, Charlie." Once her hand was free she began work on the other arm piece.

"I'm guessing you're one of the dancers, right? Can I get you a drink?"

With a soft smile, Noa shook her head. He was definitely new. "I'm actually a year under legal," she explained, "and I'm not much of a drinker, anyway." She usually didn't need it. The cast party for Rocky being the exception.

"I am a dancer, though. Not so much with the amazing group choreography things, I'm not so good at that, but I do more of the theatrical side." She shrugged, still quite cheery. "Tonight was fun."

[Charlie Pearson]

Well, that was a relief. Now he didn't have to ask another bartender, embarrass himself in front of both his colleagues and the pretty girl across the counter. Although, he didn't realise she was under age. His optimism gone, he sincerely hoped the poor lighting in the House would mask the fact that his cheeks had suddenly flushed a pinky red colour. He turned around for good measure, pretending to get a glass from the cabinets behind him and dry it with a towel hanging behind the counter. Scowling at himself, he mentally slapped himself. "This isn't high school, Charlie," he told himself. "Pull yourself together."

Turning back round, the glass and towel still in his hands. "Nah, I'm not a fan of the big group things. I much prefer a solo act. You were really good up there, by the way. I enjoyed it." Well, that was a lie. He hadn't even been watching. If there was one thing Charlie had learned in his 22 years of life, it was that a little white lie went a long way. Not that he condoned dishonesty (in fact, he valued honesty very highly) but saying someone looks nice when they don't, especially if that person is a stranger isn't too bad, right?

[Noa Reese]

Noa's smile faltered at the first lie, but she hurriedly reminded herself that he'd used the word 'really' and that that could affect her ambient power the same way sarcasm could, but when she honed in on him for his next words, a look of hurt flickered in her eyes. She covered it quickly, blushing a little as she turned away to put her accessories into her bag, the mildly annoyed strong-willed Noa beginning to push the happy-go-lucky thoughts from her head, scolding her for caring about what this guy thought.

She pursed her lips, the two headspaces clashing within her, wanting to tell him off like a 20 year old, but also wanting to scold him like an eight year old for hurting her feelings. It was an uncomfortable struggle.

"Look, I'd-" she bit her tongue, aware that her tone had become a bit short, and reminded herself that not everyone knew what dicks they looked like when they were 'just trying to be nice'. "It's not everyone's cup of tea, I get that," she managed to feign friendliness, even though she kind of wanted to roll her eyes - now it was her turn to alter her personality for the sake of tact. "But it's something I like to do, so I don't really need anyone else to tell me I did well." She sometimes surprised herself by how accurately she portrayed her own thoughts, and felt more confident as she added, less annoyed and more patient, like a casual warning; "You don't need to lie."