doing well

Who: Angelo and Eris
Where: The Kitten Club
When: Evening

Despite the crowd packing the Kitten tonight, this was turning out to be one of the easiest nights Angelo could ever remember having. With the music festival's pinnacle guests being hosted here, Angelo and the other boys in the house band were just filler tonight. They'd fill the bandshells for twenty minutes at a time, either occupying the dancing couples in the club between proper acts or backing up the singers, but none of it was hard. Luckily for Angelo.

Sobriety was an absolute demon to try and wrestle, and he was only on his third day, but Angelo was definitely still at it. He even looked pretty at ease despite the withdrawal, having spent his entire day before work with tea and a tub of hot water to soak in. And when he got to work, just to be sure? Angelo made sure to catch time with the bass player, Charlie, to share a joint and a few drinks in private. He was only quitting opium, after all.

So right now? He was pretty at ease as some other band played onstage, leaving Angelo to lean on the bar with a freshly mixed pushkin in hand, grinning easily at people around him and turning with his drink raised precariously to avoid any spills.

Eris had never spent much time at the Kitten. Mostly because when she was in business with the previous owners, she hadn't really been much for wandering around places they owned. They came to her establishment, she didn't go to theirs. But, tonight she and Brett were out basically checking out the competition to the club they planned to open, and they'd hit up the Kitten because Brett knew it best, having worked there before.

She thought she'd seen most of all she'd needed to, though she'd stopped and spoken to a lot of people in the process. It was a public appearance, after all, something designed so people would ask for her business card, since they'd by now heard about it. Either way, she paused for a drink, heading to the bar and ordering herself one. Then her attention turned on those nearest her, and she recognized the black man standing a few feet away. "Haven't seen you in a while." she greeted. His band would play for her occasionally when she'd been on stage at the Round. She didn't know if he'd recognize her or not, but still.

Was someone speaking to him? His crisp white suit, the same as the other boys in the house band, had been a pretty good deterrent for actual conversation with the guests tonight. Not that Angelo was actually trying to avoid talking to any of them, quite the opposite in fact, but most people like these didn't make a habit of speaking to the help. So it took him a second before Angelo settled on the idea that, yes, he was being spoken to.

Turning to look Eris' way, he plucked his hat free neatly and settled it over his heart as he took a drink, studying her and trying to place her face. He hadn't had a run-in with a former lover for months now, so he doubted it might be that, but he knew this woman... Angelo blinked when the gears clicked, realizing that he'd seen her before, but only once, maybe twice where he had a good look at her. "Well I'll be, if it ain't our wayward angel," he greeted in kind, raising his drink in salute. "Guessin' I shouldn't be surprised, now should I? Voice like yours... only a matter a'time 'fore you got in here an' made some decent green f'yourself."

She smiled at that, mirroring the glass gesture before she took a drink of it. "I'm afraid I was just here tonight to listen, not to contribute." she told him, at least better with this conversation than some of the others she'd had to have that night. If there was one thing about small talk--it was dull as hell. But at least this guy likely wouldn't start going on about his pedigree dog and it's health problems. she'd sat through two conversations like that during the course of the evening, when she'd been at other establishments.

"Our loss, our loss indeed," Angelo waxed as he leaned an elbow on the bar. Of course, she'd struck him as a classier woman in the past, back at the Round. She'd been someone who didn't exactly fit in with the pedigree, or lack thereof, so Angelo hadn't been shocked when she'd played her final set. And he'd assumed that she'd gone onto better things, but in his mind that had meant a better singing job. Apparently she was even better off than he'd guessed, though. She was one of the guests. "But if you ain't a part of the show? Gotta mean things is goin' well f'you, yeah? Wherever you gone off to?"

"Yes, things have gone well." In a manner of speaking, anyways. "And I've been here and there. Currently, I'm still finding which direction I really want to go in. But I'm narrowing down options, so that's something." Nevermind she already had a business up and running, she wanted another one to add to that. "But how's things with you? Clearly you've got a gig here..."

Angelo chuckled as he nodded, sipping his drink and savoring the sweetness of the chocolate. "Payin' my bills doll, payin' my bills," he answered, head bobbing in a steady nod. "Sittin' down at the Round was always more somethin' I jus' liked doin', you know? Things is okay, though. Might jus' be nearin' the end a'my time here." If his idea to host a second art show for other artists in the city went well? Angelo was going to have himself a new occupation to pursue.

"Oh? The music leaving you, or are you leaving the music?" Eris asked, taking another sip of her drink, though she was careful with it. She didn't want to get herself anything even nearing drunk. It didn't go over well when she did, and it made everything harder for her. And Brett was busy doing other things and couldn't quite monitor her alcoholic intake.

"Neither," he was quick to answer, smiling hopefully. His buzz right now made it feel natural, tuning out the cold sweats and shakes, making Angelo seem entirely natural. More importantly, it made him feel natural. "Think I'd keep my nights at the Round if I could, I'm a touch partial to playin' with my boys an' ramblin' into the mic for a short spell. But workin' here? It's work, you know? Jus' a job playin songs that don' make me feel nothin'," Angelo explained quietly enough, hoping none of his bosses would overhear. "Had me an art show a few days back, lil' gallery uptown? Sold enough paintings that I think I can try somethin' else."

"Really? I didn't realize you were an artist." Eris said, honestly intrigued. "What do you do?" Since there were a lot of forms of art, and she didn't have a clue what he might do. So she was interested. And it gave her an in with an artist, should they want to showcase certain things or commission them for their own club. It was a connection to know.

Plenty of people had been asking Angelo that kind of question lately, or telling him they'd never known he was an artist, and it was a little weird. Not bad-weird? Just... strange to have so much focus on him, it made him want a fix whenever it happened. "I paint a touch," he answered, not even realizing he'd just said as much. "S'like... past three or four years worth of stuff got sold in one night, but I been doin' a lot more lately. An' I'm thinkin' of tryin' to round up some folks, rent another gallery? Like, my boy Remy, played the drums for you? He sculpts, does metalworkin' too. An' my lady's a photographer."

"Wow." Eris said. "Sounds fascinating. I'll have to come by if you do rent another gallery. and if you've sold that much in short order, you must be very good. What subjects do you paint?" she asked, still thinking about how this might be of use later. How original artwork from a local artist and musician might be nice to have, and that was also along the lines of it being unique.

"Anything an' ever'thing in the city, 'cept that I ain't had time to get to it all yet," Angelo answered, grinning devilishly and popping his hat back on. "An' I can't really say if i'm good or not, you know? When one a'them Walkers takes a shine to your stuff, seems like everyone's gonna end up wantin' to follow suit, you know?" Not that he'd complain about Mina or Maya, or the kindness they'd shown him with the opportunity of his show. "You know, might be my second drink slowin' me down," he mused in slow realization, "But it jus' hit me. I don' think your momma named you Shrouded or Angel, now did she? Kinda leaves me with a lil' bit of a disadvantage."

Eris actually gave a light little laugh at that. "She didn't." she said. Not that she'd be handing out the name her mother did give her. Only Brett had that. "Eris." she told him. "Eris Stockard. It's possible you've heard of me. And I'm less dead than is likely you heard." Sicne her story was out these days, or at least part of it was. The version she'd allowed people to have.

"Stockard, Stockard... Eris Stockard," Angelo was murmuring softly to himself, frowning as he struggled to think of why he dimly recognized that name. He wasn't a man who read the Echo regularly, and was even less the sort to follow the shifts of power between syndicates, gangs, politicians, and everyone caught between them. But still, he felt like he had seen her name in print before somewhere. "...you used to run that lil' club, yeah? Babylon? 'Fore it burnt down, a'course," he guessed hesitantly, "Nice seein' you escaped the not-so-proverbial fall."

Eris smiled lightly. "I think your timeline is a little off." she said. "The place burned long after I was gone from it. I was singing at the Round before that ever happened." she said. She also had the scar around her neck which she'd noticed he'd not stared at, which was a credit to him, at any rate. "But yes, Babylon was at one point mine. Others seemed to think they should take it, and I didn't take overly kindly to it."

That got a soft exhale through Angelo's teeth as he considered just what that meant. He wasn't a sharp man a lot of the time, but if enough was dropped in front of him, Angelo could sort it out. And now he was doing just that; sorting the scar that it would've been bad taste to comment on (but that was worth painting), the fate of the club itself, Eris' passing mention of "I'm less dead", and her other revelation that her business had been taken from her. It wasn't hard to see that something bad had happened. "My timeline ain't even a line yet, doll," Angelo countered, flashing teeth in his grin, "Jus' a set of facts I'm jugglin' 'til I know what order they go in. An' thanks for givin' me that, my arms get tired."

"You do have a nice way with words." Eris said. "You're welcome. But that's me. I enjoyed singing, though. I enjoyed my time at the Round." she said, quite truthful there. She missed it. She'd liked singing, she'd liked all of that. She'd just known she was going to run out of marketability eventually. And it had been time to move to different things--that didn't mean she didn't still miss it, even if it hadn't been long since her last show.

"Well, if you enjoy somethin' and it don' hurt nobody, in fact if it's somethin' a lotta folks enjoy? Why stop?" Angelo asked ponderously. It wasn't like his predicament, trying to get clean. That had become a crutch for him, and even if Angelo still loved it? He knew it was bad. "I mean, you don' gotta do it every night or somethin'? Hell, I only do the Round three nights a week, an' I could stop, 'cept it makes me smile..." And he was going to need that soon enough, because this was already bad, bound to get worse.

"Guessin' you had reason to stop, though. An' if it's good reason, then it is, but we all got more room in our lives for the things we love to do than we ever like admittin'. Go on an' try to fill it all up," he advised, finishing his drink, "Do what you wanna in the attempt, an' if you fail? Well, how often do any of us get to smile over failin' something?"

Eris took another sip of her drink and smiled. "Sound advice." she said. "I'll keep that in mind, when I think about it." she said. And there was still that little part of her that wanted to sing again, that wanted to take the opportunity to do so. But she wasn't sure if she'd manage it or not. Still, it was sort of nice to be given permission to do whatever, even if it wasn't necessary or that she'd asked for it. It was just like when she'd spoken to Bright. Some part of her liked hearing it.

She'd definitely run into the right man, then. Angelo lived to encourage people in that way, almost like a muse himself except that he wasn't sure if he'd ever truly inspired someone. He didn't mind that thought, though; satisfaction came from intent for Angelo, not from success. "Any and all sound advice I might say either comes from my momma, or it's one a'them proverbs I hear from Mr. Lu whenever I'm pickin' up my laundry," Angelo confessed, laughing self-consciously.

"Cuz my advice ain't got me too far, now. But I hope theirs does a good turn by you, Eris. Makes it a lil' easier havin' a new singer when we know you're doing alright too." He slid his empty glass forward, adjusting his hat as a few of the other band members started heading for the backstage area again. It wouldn't be long before he had to follow and get back onstage.

"Sounds nicer coming from you." Eris told him, amused. "But rest assured, I'm doing just fine. You can tell the boys if you'd like, if they're curious." she added, since she didn't know if they were or not, but Angelo seemed genuine in his sentiments in her direction, so she was willing to bet the other band members might be happy with the update. "And I suppose you need to go?" she asked, since she'd noted the others heading back as well. "I'll stay for a set, at least."

Angelo liked hearing that and it showed in his grin as he reached to fix the knot of his tie. "Here's hopin' you enjoy it. We got a bunch of singers we never worked with 'fore, it's kinda a shot in the dark tonight," he confessed, shrugging, "But yeah, I should prolly get goin' here, make sure I'm tuned up. I'll let the boys know, too, an' if you feel like it? Come back by the Round some night, let 'em know y'self. An' if you don't, well... maybe I'll catch you anyhow. Here's hopin' whatever you do next goes at least half as well as your singin', Eris."

"The best to you as well." she said, raising her glass towards him, before she turned her attention elsewhere with her smile still on her lips. That had at least been nice. Productive in some manner too, but generally just nice. Better than the conversations she'd been having otherwise, that was for damn sure.