Have a Gay Old Time {Open}

[Feliks Łukasiewicz]

The nicest out of the many nice things about the Royal Vauxhall Tavern, as far as Feliks was concerned, was that nobody thought there was anything remarkable about him. Sure, he had eked advantages out of the "dumb blonde" stereotype as far as it went, but he couldn't spend all his time attracting funny looks. It got boring after a while. No matter how amusing the alarmed and scandalized looks were, they could get pretty repetitive. So when he wanted a break from all that, an hour or two with no one batting an eyelid at his peculiar speech patterns or his studiously effeminate mannerisms, he came here to drink and blend in.

At this time of the evening, the crowd was getting pretty large, but not too boisterous yet since most of them hadn't been here long enough to get too badly drunk. Feliks was perched comfortably on top of a tall barstool, sipping from a tall glass of beer that would probably last him all night at this rate, and keeping a languorous eye out for anyone who might be interesting to talk to, or who might have an interest in talking to him. Nobody had caught his eye just yet, but that was fine too; he was free of obligation all night (barring the possibility of some kind of emergency pertaining to one of his jobs), so he was in no hurry to do anything in particular. For now, he could just take in the atmosphere, people-watch a bit, and relax.

As gray as the building looked from the outside, everything about this tavern was cheerful and cozy. A veritable rainbow of clothing and hair colors spanned the room, as guys like Feliks in peppy colors and preppy styles mingled freely with more conventionally dressed types wearing darker shades. If it took all kinds to make the world go round, the clientèle here was contributing more than its fair share to the earth's continued turning, and that was exactly the way Feliks liked it.

[Deleted]

To sum up his feelings in a word, Marco was uncomfortable.

He didn’t have the luxury of letting that show, however. Not this time. He had business to attend to and that business was just a bit more important than his own feelings of discomfort. Besides, this was just another place (another stage), with people (an audience) and if he couldn’t at least blend into this cheerful scene, then he would do very well to reconsider his role as an actor and a spy… Regardless, at the very least, he’d just have to tell someone to leave him alone if they were too bothersome. No need for sneaking around firing off guns or threatening each other…it was way too close to headquarters for that sort of thing and he didn’t exactly want his cover as a sleeper to be blown just yet. Hell, he doubted there was anyone in London that knew of his role besides the higher ups, and he’d like to keep it that way for now. So long as he could do what he did in peace and not be bothered with too many other missions, the better.

“Scûze!” he offered a small grin and a little chuckle to someone he’d accidentally bumped into on his way to the bar counter. His eyes lingered on them for a moment as they passed by, trying to determine if that was the guy he was supposed to meet here or not. The lack of a faded red handkerchief in the other’s back left pocket suggested that it was not. With a small inward sigh, Marcello smoothed out his blue button-up shirt and continued to the bar, ordering a shot of whiskey for now—God knows he needs it.

Downing the drink and ordering another, he hopped up onto one of the barstools and offered a friendly smile and a nod of the head over to a blond male. The brightly dressed blond seemed to be observing everyone else in the room. Perhaps he was waiting on someone himself-- maybe he was the one with Marco’s intel? Regardless, the cheery Seborgan moved a bit closer, adjusting the sunglasses he had perched on his head so they wouldn’t fall. “You-a look kinda bored, amico.” He settled on the stool next to the other with a warm grin and extended a hand. “Marcello—Marco for-a short.”

---

Yo. Thought I'd drop in for a spell =w=b Marco's wearing something akin to this, just fyi.

[Feliks Łukasiewicz]

As Feliks watched the room, he caught sight of a young man who, like himself, seemed unusually aware of everything that was around him. He was another one who seemed to like his bright colors, too, since there was no earthly reason (as far as the Pole could tell) that anyone would go out in public wearing canary-yellow pants with a sky-blue shirt who didn't have a particular personal fondness for a nice, vivid hue.

Normally Feliks would have just glanced at the man and returned to looking around at everyone else, but the man looked right back at him with a friendly smile. Feliks returned the look, and the man joined him moments later.

"You-a look kinda bored, amico," the stranger said, in an accent that sounded sort of Italian. Feliks smiled and shook his head blandly; he certainly wasn't bored, watching the crowd in a place like this, but he didn't object to company either. The man cheerfully introduced himself as "Marcello--Marco for short."

"Nice to meet you, Marcello," the blond young man drawled amicably in reply. "My name's Feliks, and I totally do appreciate someone to talk to. I don't think I've seen you around here before; what brings you by?"

The question was meant innocuously, but Feliks had phrased it vaguely enough that in case Marcello didn't want to touch some part of his motivations for either visiting the bar or coming to talk to him (and it was quite possible that he wouldn't; some people, Feliks was well aware, had secrets, especially in a neighborhood that housed both a large gay community and a lot of secret agents), it would be easy to avoid the difficult bits. It was second nature by now for the eccentric agent to conceal his own secrets, and he found himself automatically extending an opportunity for his new acquaintance to do the same. Something suggested to him that it might be necessary, on a level that he wasn't even consciously aware of, and had he been asked he couldn't have begun to explain what it was that gave him that hint.

With the exception of the fact that he had most certainly not divined the need for secrecy from Marcello's pants.

[Deleted]

“Ah, no?” Marcello clicked his tongue a bit as the other shook his head at his comment of looking bored. Perhaps he just enjoyed thinking to himself or watching others—some people did and Marco wasn’t one to judge them for it. To each their own, after all.

However, once his extended hand was left ignored and hanging in the air, the Seborgan curled his fingers loosely back into his palm and drew his arm back, allowing his elbow to rest on the counter before leaning against the arm comfortably. It occurred to Marco, that perhaps this guy just wasn’t big on handshakes or physical contact since his greeting had been rejected or ignored. No matter, some people were like that and the spy had learned not to let it bother him that much. Though one part of his mind –the more observant and skeptical part that had been molded by his training—seemed to prod at him and say that the man may be suspicious of him. The young man couldn’t see why or how he’d cause much alarm, but it wasn’t something he was concerned with at the moment. He had business, yes, but this one didn’t exactly require him to remain extremely secretive. It was just a personal mission, not one that the agency had thrust upon him.

However, that didn’t mean Marco was extremely keen on revealing every little detail of his visit. As such He was glad that Feliks’ inquiry remained a bit open and without a trace of prodding.

“Feliks then—nice-a to meet you too,” he smiled softly again and looked over his shoulder as the bartender approached, offering him another shot of whiskey. With a thankful nod, he returned his attention back to the blond. “Sci, it’s-a always nice to have a bit of-a company, no? And… well.. I’ve-a never really been here before, but a pal of mine kinda suckered me into it y’know?” He chuckled lightly, fingertips moving against the smooth surface of his shot glass before picking it up just a few inches from the counter top. At the very least, it was a half-truth. He had, after all, agreed to meet his ‘acquaintance’ here, so it wasn’t a total bold-faced lie. It was also, he thought, rather convincing and typical enough to be accepted as the complete truth with no need of prying for extra information.

Marco shrugged and continued. “But-a it’s really not such a bad place! The-a people seem pretty nice and—“ his eyes moved over the interior of the tavern “—it’s definitely got a nice-a vibe going on. If-a it’s like this all the time, I-a might have to reconsidered my usual haunts.”

Throwing back his shot and then set it aside, fingers tapping against the table as another grin graced his lips. “So-a I take it you come here pretty often, Feliks?” It wasn’t until after the words had been uttered that he realized just how cheesy and cliché a question that was (and one that could be interpreted incorrectly), but he made no move to correct it. The little snort of a chuckle he had issued would have to suffice for his acknowledgement of such a lame inquiry.

Well, if anything, at least he was relaxing a bit more with the aid of a shot or three of a strong drink.

[Feliks Łukasiewicz]

Feliks realized only belatedly that Marcello had meant to go for a handshake. For all that he was constantly on alert, there were times that he just didn't have any idea what he was doing, socially speaking. He couldn't catch every social cue, even when he was trying, and all he could do now was blink awkwardly. Explaining that he hadn't noticed the attempt would probably make things only that much more confusing. Better to just let the moment pass by and be forgotten.

"It's-a always nice to have a bit of-a company, no?" Feliks' new acquaintance commented, and the young man couldn't help but nod in agreement. He liked talking, no doubt about it, and having the opportunity was always fun.

"I've never really been here before, but a pal of mine kinda suckered me into it, y'know?" Marco explained.

"Did you know what you were getting yourself into?" Feliks inquired cheerfully in reply. After a second's consideration, it occurred to him to predict that the answer was probably yes. "Or do you always wear fun colors like that?"

Marco's additional evaluation of how he was finding the place was amusingly positive, considering that he didn't appear to have been the most enthusiastic about coming. "If-a it's like this all the time," he concluded, "I-a might have to reconsider my usual haunts."

"Oh, it's usually like this," Feliks assured him. "At least, I've never seen it much different. It's always sooo relaxing, I think."

Of course, for Feliks the relaxation was mostly in the form of the atmosphere. Sure, he was drinking, but that could be done anywhere, whereas he couldn't be this comfortable just anywhere. He wondered whether Marco would be nearly this comfortable if he weren't drinking so much. Most likely, the other man wouldn't have just asked him whether he came here often if he hadn't been at least a little drunk already.

Feliks laughed along with the Seborgan and replied, "Maybe not so often as I'd like, but I come when I can. I work two jobs, so it's not always easy to get an evening off." That last was partially a lie. He had three jobs, not two, but it really wasn't easy to find free time with that kind of schedule.