genessia | [ Action ] the further on the edge the higher the intensity

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[ Action ] the further on the edge the higher the intensity

Who: Courtney Marteniz, Martha Jones and YOU (guys can be at the club, but they weren't invited)
What: Girl's Night Out
Where: Hangar Queen in Genessia City
When: 8/19, early evening, follows this video thread.

By the time Martha meets Courtney at her housing and they make it to 22nd and Fir, Hangar Queen is jumping. When the door opens, music pours out into the streets and Martha shoots a grin at Courtney. It's been an age since she's gone clubbing it seems like, and she's looking forward to it.

They slip inside and head for the bar. Drinks first, and see who's beaten them here. And after that, dancing until someone's got to peel them off the floor.

[ Tag in, tag around, anyone who any of the people Martha contacted would've invited can consider themselves invited, and if you'd be out dancing coincidentally, that's fine too! ]

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It had been so long since Martha had gone clubbing, at first she thought she'd forgotten how to dance. But she got a drink into her and then half of another. It turned out that was exactly enough to get her sense of rhythm back. Right quick, dancing went from lighthearted fun to a serious effort to outpace the things that still lurked in her nightmares and probably always would. It was still fun, but it was a lot sweatier this way.

It also meant that when a new song came on that had engine sounds and droning, she seized up and had to drag herself off the floor. That was when she called Jack, skipped hello, and said, "Talk to me? I'm out, I'm losing it a bit, and I need to hear your voice."

[ Feel free to tag Martha before her call to Jack or after, and you can see her talking to someone, but please don't interrupt that even if it's unthreaded. ]

Jack's gentle laughter is Martha's answer. "I thought the whole idea of a girls night was to get away from us annoying lads," he replied warmly.

Already she can feel her heart rate slowing. Even just this is like tucking her head to his shoulder and feeling his hand stroke the length of her spine. "The annoying lads. Not the lovely ones who know how to talk their girlfriends out of PTSD spirals," she answers him, voice steadier already

"You doing okay," he asks carefully, "I can come get you if it is too much." Jack hasn't forgotten how his little "adventure" being mortal turned out when he decided to do what he wanted for the hell of it. But he also wants Martha and the other ladies to have their fun without him swanning in to ruin it.

"Better now," she tells him, as her chest muscles release their death grip on her air supply. She's still sitting in a corner with her back plastered to a wall, but there's nothing actively triggering her. "Just felt it creeping up, yeah?" Like a migraine aura. She could often tell when she was vulnerable to a flash. "Think I'll be all right if you just talk to me a bit and distract me."

Because Jack had that effect on her. When he couldn't talk her out of a flash, he could at least talk her through one and keep her from losing it all together.

"What would you like to talk about," Jack asks, "not doing much of anything interesting. Reading a little bit. Listening to some music. It's quiet at the restaurant tonight."

"Mmm, and here I was about to ask what you're wearing," she teases and a little more of the tension slips away. As if he doesn't wear the same thing nearly every day. "What are you reading, love?" At least they seemed to have reached an agreement there, she can call him 'love' like a proper Brit girlfriend without him feeling guilty for not saying it himself.

Jack hummed lightly and there is the sound of pages flipping. "Phillip K Dick," he replied, "I've always found it funny how much he got right about the future and how much he got wrong."

"Do androids dream of electric sheep?" she asked lightly. Her ears tuned out the noise of the Hangar Queen in favor of the sounds of Jack being Jack. "And will you be at the house when I get home?"

"Minority Report," Jack replied easily, "and for the record I'm wearing that blue shirt you like and the red suspenders instead of the gray ones."

"Does that mean you'll still be wearing it when I get home?" Because now she was starting to think of other things she might do with the remainders of the evening. "I like taking it off of you."

Jack chuckled. "And so you shall," he promises with a soft purr, "Murdock said he'd lock up tonight so I'll be home as soon as things slow down."

"I reckon I'll stay a bit longer, until Courtney feels comfortable with someone else or she's ready to get." Martha liked her quite well, and she'd discovered already that Courtney was a healer. They'd be working together in Genessia General, which made stumbling across her message feel serendipitous. "But then I'm all yours."

Rose is dancing, all the dancing. Feel free to join her, this is all she did for years before the Doctor. And even during some of the years with him.

And anyone who looks like they need to be pulled out onto the floor, is definitely going to get Rose good-naturedly trying to drag them.

"You are a good friend Martha Jones," Jack says easily, "Have I mentioned to you recently how proud I am of you?"

Tsukishima wasn't invited. He simply happened to be on duty as a bouncer. He was there to make sure things wouldn't become too rowdy.

A stern glare was usually all it took to keep people nice and civil. His posture, mannerisms, and alertness showed that he was an experienced soldier. The uniform Gale had his staff wear wasn't the same as his Hokkaido 7th Division uniform, but he was comfortable in it.

Martha backs into the man when she hangs up with Jack, a soft smile on her lips and her mind temporarily elsewhere. She's instantly apologetic, but the uniform spikes her adrenaline again.

"I... I'm sorry. I didn't see you there. I'll just be--" Backing away, reaching for her perception filter, trying not to seem suspicious in case he was one of the Master's soldiers...

No.

No, he's not, she tells herself, because this is a club in Genessia city and nowhere near Earth in that terrible year. It's just startlement that's freezing up her lungs, and she forces her breath out.

"You must work here," she says in a much friendlier tone. "I'm sorry. I didn't see you there."

"That's all right, ma'am," Tsukishima replied, calmly. He was easy to miss when there was no need for intimidation. He was short, even for a Meiji era soldier.

The woman didn't tower over him the way most people in this new world did, but she was still taller. She seemed on edge. Something about the way she moved reminded him of other veterans.

"Yes, I do work here," he said. His voice was still calm, but his expression changed to one of concern.

"Do you need anything? My job is to ensure your safety."

Mai literally could not recall the last time she had been to a club.

...no, really; she stretched the limits of her memory as far back as the younger years of her first life and still came up empty.

Which wasn't to say she didn't know what a club was, or how to dress, or what manner of outing this was meant to be. And thought a bit on the conservative side for the atmosphere, she managed to put together a modest, comfortable ensemble. Arriving with eyes that habitually scanned the area several times a minute, she opted to make her way over to the bar. Forgoing much of the actual dancing in favor of lingering back, nursing a rum and coke as she observed those daring the dance floor.

"And you're the best friend, Jack Harkness," she murmured back to him, a soft purr in her tone. "My best friend." And so much more than that.

Jack smiles even though Martha can't see it. "We are a pair aren't we," he says affectionately.

"I'd certainly like to think so." Her smile matches the one she can hear in his voice. "If you want to come out and meet some of my friends, you're welcome. But I was thinking... maybe we could throw a house-warming party?"

Martha notes the concern in his voice and tries out a smile at the man who is quite as short as she is. It's not him that makes the smile difficult, but her own mental distress. Fortunately the call with Jack has settled her enough that she can breathe through this newest flare of anxiety.

"I'm all right." Definitely an early night for her though. "If you could direct me to the nearest bartender without a queue, though, a glass of something cold and frosty wouldn't go amiss."

"All right," he replied. "Right this way, ma'am."

He led her to a part of the bar that wasn't particularly busy, making sure that she had enough space. He figured crowding around her was a bad idea. She appeared to be doing a better job of leaving past horrors behind than most of the 7th Division.

There's a bartender nearby, ready to take her order. Hopefully a drink would help sooth her nerves.

"Thank you," Martha says when he's drawn her out of the crowds into a quieter space at the bar. It's much more comfortable for her and she immediately orders a strawberry margarita, frozen. She's not one for foo-foo drinks usually, but bright, cold, and tasting of fresh fruit is a good antidote to her memories which are grey and hungry.

"You're very kind."

Ahsoka had been working to set aside two decades of life-on-the-run habits: she'd left the shop early, setting aside a half-fixed not-quite-speeder-bike in order to go home, clean up, and change into something appropriate for a nice evening out on Coruscant or Alderann.

Taking the advice she'd gotten from a really helpful fashion consultant she'd chatted with on her "phone," she'd picked up a bias-cut dress in blues and golds that seemed like it would swirl nicely when she danced.

She'd hoped to be early to meet Martha, but had ended up fussing for ages in a way she could just imagine Obi-Wan teasing her about. The other woman was already there, clearly excited, but in a seemingly happy way.

"Martha!" She waved and approached, conscious of walking like a big-city civilian and not like a mechanic trying not to attract attention.

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[ Action ] the further on the edge the higher the intensity

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