The Not-Sad Cat Dance

Trina was lucky he was very fond of her. This wasn't Ray's thing at all. Not anymore. He'd traded his days of loud partying into the night for a farm and fishing rod, but things had changed again, hadn't they? It'd take more power than Trina could ever have to rid of him of his fishing rod, but his farm would have to wait until reparations to his country had been made by the offending parties. Once blood for blood had been paid, then they could return to the lowkey life he loved.

Though his lust for vengeance enjoyed stealthy quiet, his life could not always adhere to the same. Lavantir Port City was a fantastic fishing place, even at night, but this was a holiday. The end of a year. The end of this year, specifically, deserved to be celebrated. It was marred with genocide and agony, and though it couldn't and wouldn't be forgotten, the pair of avenging missionaries could surely spare one night of debauchery to see these mangled twelve months put out of their misery.

Although he wasn't aware of her inner machinations concerning him, his happiness, his wellbeing, etc, the kitten couldn't have hit the nail more squarely on the head. Ray might not be showing much of it, but he was fatigued and stressed. Since the war crime, he hadn't been sleeping or eating well. And though it had caused no outward issues, the rage that fueled his anti-retirement was building and becoming uncomfortable to mitigate with fishing alone. The man needed to let off some steam, have a night to forget it all and just live and truly enjoy something without the doom clouding his eyes. He needed to wear himself out, have a good laugh, indulge in some carnal pleasures.

Make no mistake, in his point of view, this was for her, not him. At his age, he got hangovers now.

Ray may have been somewhat mopey and playing up his reluctance just to get a rise out of the feisty catgirl, but he'd ultimately made the journey and dressed the part. Gone were his musty, well-worn button-up and suspenders getup. Tonight he was in a tight black tee tucked into black pants that kissed shiny black shoes. He almost looked like a different man, if not for the pale hair, long ears, and dorky silver glasses still sitting on his freckled nose.

This Hosenka place was honestly too much. Though there were parts that made him ache for home, for Felidae and it's counter-culture quirks, this place was flamboyant and humid from so many spas and hot springs. The air smelled thickly of lavender spiked with the tang of alcohol spilling from every cup in the various venues and out in the streets. What were normally spas for relaxing had been turned into balmy clubs of dancers, laughter, and rhythmic lights pulsing with loud music. The various waterfalls gushing from soaring walls were sparkling with specks of gold and glitter, and their warm mists combatted winter's bite as well as provided a relaxing, atmospheric haze. It was a city-wide intoxicated celebration to ring in the new year on a high note, with everyone planning to take the party to midnight and beyond.

Just as he started to get a bit antsy, Trina stopped and announced Nines. His pale greens scrutinized over her head and were pleasantly surprised. This venue was the least of the offenders they'd passed. Garish, but less loud and less crowded. As his arm was tugged, he returned his gaze to her, still seeming unsure. Ray wasn't much for indoors, especially places that could be considered square, but thus far, none of his neurotic alarm bells were ringing in that regard. Something else was bothering him, clearly.

Hesitation aside, he cracked a small smile. "Nah, let's do it," he relinquished, but as they made their way past the bouncer and inside, he produced his caveat. "I haven't had a drink in a long time," Ray said, brows lightly furrowed. It wasn't that his tolerance was laughably low or anything, but once he got started, he didn't stop until he was plastered. While he hadn't been plastered in years, he knew he could get a bit... rowdy when drunk, amongst other interesting developments. Who knew if it had gotten better or worse in his sobriety? Accidentally blowing up the establishment was on his list of concerns, but most of the others had to do with Trina's safety and well-being in the face of some stereotypical rabbit issues.

Obviously, he could have decided not to imbibe but... then what was the point of coming all of this way and enduring all the people and noise? No, he needed alcohol to survive, let alone enjoy, this particular outing.

"Don't be afraid to tell me when I've had enough. I'm not as... controlled as I normally am when I'm drunk, okay?" he lightly explained, even as he took a bit of the lead and swung the two of them straight to the open bar. Despite his warning, the bunny man was already warming up to the idea now that they were properly arrived. An eager glint appeared in his eyes as he ordered a round of shots and held the tiny glass out to her in a toast.

"To a victorious new year!" he grinned.

[wc: 893 || total: 1917/4000 min]

Ray worried that Trina didn't really know what she was asking for. She'd only ever had the man while he had all of his wits about him. It was possible she wasn't prepared. He was really concerned about it, honestly. Wanting him to loosen up was one thing, but wanting him to actually lose his finely crafted control... He'd never lost control with her. Even when he was being careful, sometimes he felt he was too rough. Admittedly, though, the idea she planted in his mind of being able to do whatever he felt like without worry nagging constantly was seductive. It'd be a relief, but at what cost?

What if he hurt her? She was the last person he wanted to harm. What if she left because he was too much? Though he'd come to terms with the loneliness he'd chosen, having her around had enriched his life more than he could've ever asked for or deserved. It bothered him sometimes how insecure he could be when thoughts of missing Trina cropped up. Ray presented as such a composed and quietly confident person, and generally, it was true. Sometimes the aspect of the catgirl being such a weakness-- enough that he accepted that her departure would hurt-- bothered him. Raynelle Jyx was not a man who had ever suffered insecurities until very recently, after the tragedy and consequent return to his old life. Perhaps it was his old life he feared her reaction to.

The farmer's own shot was downed much in the same fashion as his date for the evening. At least, initially. It'd been quite a while since he'd imbibed and the burn wasn't as familiar as he thought it'd be. Still, the single gulp of liquid was met with only a muted hiss and an involuntary twitch of one of his ears. This could not be said for his kitten companion.

As usual, the softly sadistic side of him appeared in the form of a quiet chuckle and a smile as she choked on the wake of her shot. He'd never considered that someone as young and lively as Trina wasn't used to all sorts of drinks, but the discovery was endearing. "Cute," he noted to himself, giving her nose a playful boop with his index finger. Amusement aside, he decided that she could pick the next drinks, which he assumed would be cocktails that did their best to hide the causticity with sugar. He preferred his alcohol to get straight to the point, but enjoying the taste with her wouldn't be so bad and meant she'd have an easier time of things.

With one drink down, it seemed that was the abrupt end to her lapin man's plans. Head to the bar for a drink was as far as he'd gotten, which meant he continued to linger there in a somewhat awkward fashion. The music was loud, the lights were spastic and colorful, and his sensitive snout was picking up the musk of human exertion mixed with perfumes and colognes and hair products and a chaotic spillage of all sorts of drinks. A thoughtful frown tugged at his mouth. It brought back a lot of memories from a life he'd poignantly ended.

Memories engulfed him for a moment or two. Every club smelled like varying mixtures of the elements present tonight. The music had been a bit different a decade ago, but it wasn't different enough. A young bunny boy, high on power and the thrill of adventure, found his way to these exact places every weekend at the very least. Sometimes with friends, sometimes with enemies, and any permutation between. Many he'd partied with no longer existed in the mortal plane, and those that did thought he didn't. It was a beautiful blur of hubris and young idiocy, a stark contrast to his current persona. Alcohol and music had commanded his body and he'd been powerless to both. Notoriously so. That's right. That old him was still him. That Ray was inside him somewhere. Gods above, how could he only just now remember something so crucial as--

Trina's touch reeled his wandering mind back in and he turned his attention back to her. In a bizarre turn of events, an expression tensed his features, similar to the ones he wore when he became acutely aware of the corners in a room. Fear. What could someone as strong as him possibly fear? It was gone in a flash, but what exactly was its cause? He tapped on the bar for another shot and answered while he waited for it to appear. "Sure," he answered, almost aloof about it. Somehow he seemed even more awkward. Drinking the second shot didn't really do much to alleviate it.

And so, the reluctant adventurer joined his energetic kitten in the crowd of undulating flesh, and it would be hard for someone to stand out any more than he did. He was already pretty conspicuous with his height and build, and the ears only made it worse. It didn't help that he was just standing there, looking around, wishing he was actually drunk or dead. Two shots only gave him a buzz, and while that was enough to get him onto the dance floor with Trina, it wasn't enough to turn him into a carefree dancing machine. Knowing Trina would start whining or pouting if he didn't get in gear, he tried to find the beat and move to it, but...

See, the issue he had was that... with all of his physical prowess and impressive and complicated martial arts he was capable of dazzling people with, dancing wasn't something he could claim as a skill. How someone with ears as big as his could miss the beat so reliably was impressive in itself. His moves were a curious combination of self-conscious teenager at a school dance and a dad embarrassing his teenage daughter at a concert. It was undeniably dorky with its off-beat swaying/foot-tapping and little arm movements like he had some tiny invisible maracas. He was trying so hard.

Six drink Ray was the unabashed weeb-at-an-anime-convention dancer. Two drink Ray was just uncomfortable. But how could he have ever said no to that precious glimmer in Trina's eyes when she begged him to dance with her? She may play dumb, but she had more power over him than she knew.

[wc: 1062 || total: 4028/4000+]