#all the compiled club music videos are things I've found just in the last few months

[ooc-miqojak]

The chamber of her club so usually filled with guests was vaccant of hanger ons, of would be supplicants, and vapid pretty things. Instead it was just HIM that stood there waiting for her to arrive. Her hooded accoster from Valdrakken. "Don't worry. I was very polite in my asking them all for privacy." He said with a smirk. "Its a nice club you have. A little...loud for my tastes however."

((Technically, I have a playlist for the club that's been long neglected... so I touched it up a little while I was too sick to actually write, lol - I took out stuff that wasn't really suited to the vibe, and tried to at least put the songs in a... non-jarring order? I'm no DJ, mind you, but have Club Nathrezim's unlisted YT playlist!)) Long and lean, the horned woman looms on high in a glass-walled VIP booth that overlooks the club's various excesses; the room itself sumptuous in its dark, yet inviting interior - and indeed devoid of the various attendants, supplicants, and hangers-on that the space is often busy with - though the woman, herself, does not recline amidst the luxurious leather and cool air that the box boasts by way of comfort, as the masses below soak in their own sweat. She, herself, loiters near that front pane of glass - fel-gaze turned downward, to those that revel below - as the cowled figure makes his arrival. The ever-steady pulse of the music, so like the beating of a great beast's heart, is still present - the vibrations readily felt through the floor...though, perhaps thankfully, the music itself is far more muffled in this space.

Whatever reverie drew her thoughts, the horned figure now takes a long pull from a glass of blue, glowing liquid - the fel-glow of her gaze drifting, at last, to the man who'd like a little privacy, "You're not really...dressed for the occasion - " There's a quick glance cast out to the crowd, and their rave-wear, and a shrug follows, "But, the whole idea is for people to come as they are, so...be my guest with the be-cowled robe, I suppose." The reflection of multi-colored, flashing lights against her face, in the window, only adds to the brush of something alien about her, this time around - the ever-so-slightly more fluid movement, perhaps...or the eye-markings that are only apparent in the brief flashes of light, maybe.

"Technically the club is owned by..." Here, there's a puff of breath from the leather-clad woman, and a quick swish-and-clink of ice in her glass, as she thinks, " - let's just say 'old friends'. Suffice to say that they've gone hands-off, so I suppose it is mine, now; they certainly don't need the place, anymore."

Now, there's a cock of that horned head in the flickering play of light and shadow, and a prompt, "Do tell, however - what brings your path back to my own? Privacy I can understand in most matters, frankly, but..." - her hands spread, as if to indicate the entirety of the club, itself, before the one holding the drink ascends once more, before she continues on, " - why here? One imagines that the setting matters as much as the content of the conversation." The play of light highlights it for but a second, but it would be difficult to miss the reflected light from fangs bared in a knowing curl of a smirk - while she may not have expected this figure to cross paths with her again, it seems she is well-acquainted with the types of topics that merit conversing here, as opposed to anywhere else... and she's certainly not quite evoking the 'well-to-do noble' just passing through the market, here.

@nixalegos