The Madness of the Crowd

Finally he felt fucking warm.

Bass music throbbed in Pyr's bones.  It made him sway, moving with the boneless grace of a big cat.  All animal magnetism and sheer, barely restrained violence.  The lights were flashing faster than could be healthy for a person's eyesight but he didn't care.  He was warm.  People pressed in close on the dance floor, grinding with friend, lover, and stranger alike.  It was dark except for the glow of the bar and the occasional flash of strobe lights.  The music was deep and industrial.  People were showing more skin than clothes despite the chilly Chicago spring night.

This was definitely a place he felt at home.  Black leather pants clung tightly to his long legs, hanging so low on his hips they looked like they were about ready to slide right off- and it was his secret how much baby powder it took to get them on.  They disappeared into knee-high heavy black boots with more buckles than were necessarily functional.  His torso was covered in a long sleeves fishnet shirt and a vinyl corset with a proper steel busk that sucked in his waist in a way that made him look less than perfectly human.  Not that he was human.  A normal one at least.  His hair was gelled up in violent but disorderly spiked, bleached blonde down the center and dyed pitch black on the sides.  

Hands clad in fingerless gloves caught the hips of the person gyrating closest to him, pulling them back.  High pitched laughter suggested it was a woman as they ground together to the beat of the music, bumped and jarred by the people around them.  This was nothing less than a barely clothed orgy and Pyr reveled in it.  The close touch and physical contact was something he craved in a very base, carnal way.  He knew, barring any unfortunate circumstances, that he was going home with someone tonight.  Or they were going home with him, he didn't care which.  But the bed would be warmer to sleep in with more than one person.  Hell if he had his way he'd nab two or three partners.  The more the fucking merrier.  At least then he wouldn't wake up, teeth chatter as the heater sputtered and tried to keep up with his demands.  He felt like he was always freezing, even when his blankets were starting to get little smoldering holes in them.

This was why he spent his winters in the South, given the choice.  The song changed and Pyr peeled himself away, slinking back over to the bar.  He made room for himself with a judiciously placed elbow here and a positively uncomfortable lack of personal space there until he found his way to the edge.  He lifted a hand, smiled slyly at the attractive bartender, and ordered a drink.  Drink in hand he slid away towards an empty space of wall where he could drink and relax for a moment, separated from the crowd.

Tasmin Rowe couldn't decide which was louder: the pulsing music, or the constant drone of thoughts and emotions flooding her senses.

If it wasn't obvious to the onlookers that she wasn't supposed to be in the club at all, it was fair to clarify that the sixteen year old didn't look the part of club goer with her vividly red hair and childish face. Tasmin was five feet even and currently relying on two inch flat heels to bring her up to five foot two. The heels weren't all that hidden, either- the teenager's entire outfit consisted of white tights, a black skirt no longer than her knees, a tight tank top, and a white unbuttoned jacket made of canvas material. And a few dollars in makeup to add a bit of color to her pale face. Light pink lipstick, bright pink blush lightly dusting her cheeks, eyeliner, and a hint of lilac eyeshadow rounded it out. No bells, no whistles, and no Tripp-esque attire.

And yet, there she was. Nursing an unidentified drink that had been left unattended and still half full at the bar, the teenager vaguely began to hope the night would end sooner rather than later. Ever so slowly, mercifully, the alcohol numbed Tas' senses, turning the thoughts and emotions down a few notches.

So many people.

As long as her older brother didn't find out, Tasmin had little to fear. It seemed unlikely that a bouncer or other security personnel would harm her- no, she had them pegged at doing little more than tossing her out. As for everyone else, well, they seemed harmless. Drunk, yes, but not threatening. Thus far she'd wisely kept to the darker corners of the club in spite of her confidence. Namely, the places reserved for couples, offering a little privacy and mystery to their antics. Unfortunately, a few more sips of the unpleasant drink and the girl couldn't remember why she wasn't dancing. A series of clumsy steps rectified the issue, putting her into the outer ring of swaying individuals.

"Hey, girl, lean back now," A voice sounded behind her. Large, calloused hands began to trail over her sides, then sink lower. Tasmin shivered involuntarily. This wasn't in the plans. There was nothing to gain from this stranger. Not yet, at least. Tasmin pulled herself away, half stumbling out of the fray. In an attempt to hide from her new dance partner the teen did a half dash, misjudged the distance, and ended up with her left hand outstretched, currently headed for a place atop Pyr's chest rather than the wall. Senselessly, her right hand still clutched the remaining third of the mixed drink as it sloshed threateningly toward the top of the glass.

Pyr had just reached the point of a pleasantly good mood, actually half drowsing in the warmth. There was something about the crowds and the music that combined to make this place oddly calming. Of course, Pyr had an awfully strange idea of what 'safe' and 'comforting' were. There was a faint disturbance in the crowd, and he followed it to the edge closest to him, a girl in white standing out against the predominantly dark dancers. He watched as she broke away from them, and stumbled towards him. He didn't move, only held his drink off to the side so she didn't spill his orange juice all over the damn place.

He wasn't sure if she was drunk or clumsy, but his free hand reached up to catch her shoulder and steady her when her hand bumped against his chest. Now that she was this close though, he could tell she was young. Not as young as he had been when he started getting into trouble but plenty young all the same. In a deft movement he let go of her shoulder and took her drink, sniffing it briefly before wrinkling his nose at the sharp smell of alcohol.

"So." He raised his voice above the noise of the club so she could hear him, amused more than anything else. "Nice to meet you." Abruptly his posture shifted as he pushed himself away from the wall, setting her drink down on a nearby table and draping that arm around her shoulders. His skin was feverishly hot, though he wasn't sweating at all.

"Hey babe, why'd you run off?" The man's voice was slightly slurred as he eyed Pyr up. Pyr eyed him back nonchalantly, pulling Tasmin a bit closer in a casually possessive way.

"Hands off asshole, she's only dancing with me." His voice wasn't particularly deep, but it held a note of warning, a careless promise of violence that made the other man hesitate, and then back down, throwing a dirty look over his shoulder as he retreated back to the dance floor to find easier prey.

Tasmin should probably be scared right now. Pyr was half a foot taller than her, even with her heels on, and unlike the man on the dance floor, she had the distinct feeling that she wouldn't make a quick escape. Instead, she stood there, staring at her own hand. It was warm. Sure, the club was warm, but this was different. When he spoke Tas glanced up to meet his gaze.

"Soorrry," Tas' voice was soft, possibly drowned by the din. But it was an automatic response. There was no look of guilt or shame, just resolve. She anticipated being handed back the drink at her apology. That didn't happen. She did, however, take this opportunity to move her hand away from him and shrink under his grasp, as if she could shift loose of the arm slung around her shoulder.

"Hey, that's..." Tas' voice trailed off. It wasn't hers, so she didn't know how to finish the sentence. Her eyes followed the glass anyway until it rested on the table. She might even have grabbed for it, if it weren't for her dance partner's return. If she'd tried to make herself small before, she was certainly doing a better job now, her shoulders growing tense as she folded her arms tightly- protectively- over her chest. Pyr's defense was surprising, though probably not a good thing. Her confidence returned when the man began walking away. Normally she'd say thank you, but not tonight.

"I am not." The sixteen year old objected, her voice rising. Her posture swelled to it's current full five foot two stature, her blue eyes holding conviction instead of fear. She had decided that she couldn't physically break away, so she reasoned that she had to find a way to assure him she wasn't going to be that easy to manipulate. If she didn't, this could go very wrong. The perfect opportunity seemed to present itself when she caught sight of his drink. This was a club, that was probably alcohol. Tas reached for it, her movements showing no clumsiness this time.

He didn't let her go, a wicked sort of amusement dancing in his pale eyes as he looked down at her. She was tiny. Definitely not old enough to be here. When she reached for his drink he actually handed it to her, snorting a little at her ballsy attitude. So this little girl has some sass.

"You're going to get eaten alive in here." He pointed out. "Did you come with friends?" Pyr straightened up, looking for a group of teens who looked like they were close to her age. He didn't see any in a quick glance though. He wasn't even sure how she got in here- even with a fake idea she looked like a kid. His other hand now empty because she had his drink (which was a virgin screwdriver- that is to say it was a glass of orange juice), raked through his over-styled hair, braking up some of the already disordered spikes.

Not seeing anyone, he looked down at her again, eyeing her up and down. Yeah, no way she would last another hour. "If you're looking for a good time I'm not going to stop you. But if you need to shake someone I'll help you get rid of them. Can I have that back now?" He pointed to his drink still in her hands.

Tasmin's smile lit up with accomplishment as she pulled the orange drink to herself, holding it close to her chest so he couldn't change his mind. One sip made the smile slip into pure disappointment. The orange was bitter, but not alcoholic-bitter. Tas considered her options, returning the glass to a tight grasp against her chest. She had it, now, what was it worth? Probably not much. unfortunately.

"Of course I came with friends. I'll be fine." Tas retorted without hesitation. Of course she hadn't really, so she didn't bother looking around or pointing to any strangers. She'd do it if he insisted, but she wasn't going to talk herself into a hole unnecessarily. Instead, she kept her blue gaze fixed on the glass in her hands. A fake ID, a few kisses, and her hollow promise to meet up with the bouncer at the door later that night got her in. Maybe he was just bored.

"Thanks, but no thanks." Tasmin flashed a smile, her eyes finally meeting his again. "Trade. Your drink for mine, and you have to promise you won't take it from me again," While she waited for an answer, her eyes slid down, taking in his attie. It didn't look warm so how was it that he remained warm? He didn't look particularly sickly in the dim light, and he wasn't coughing or anything... He didn't even appear tired. A small shake of her head and Tas was smiling again, eyes locked onto his expression.

"Or, you could be a nice guy and just get me a new one in return for yours," Tas added as an afterthought, the smile still in place.

"Tch, brat." Pyr's lip quirked up a little in something between a sneer and a smile, as if he wasn't sure whether to be amused or irritated by this little pipsqueak. Sure she came with friends. He kind of hoped that was true, he didn't feel like babysitting.

Then, why did he have to? He certainly didn't have any stake in whether she got in trouble or not. Shaking off his weird moment of altruism, Pyr let his arm slide off her shoulders, giving himself a full body shake much like a cat settling itself. He reached down and caught the top of the glass with his fingertips, not quite tugging it out of her hands.

"I'll only promise not to take it away if you tell me your name." He said glibly. Already his gaze had gone back to scanning the floor, particularly other people lingering against walls or near the bar. People waiting to be offered drinks. Though lewd activity was something he didn't have an objection to, his thoughts primarily circled around the idea of heat, and how to wake up to as much of it as possible tomorrow morning. Then, once the sun was out, he could wander off and find somewhere to bask in it and take a few pictures.

So, provided he found some bed warmers, tomorrow sounded like it was going to be a good day. Unless it fucking rained.

It had been worth a shot. Instead of resisting, the teen let the glass go completely once he started pulling for it. She didn't want orange juice, anyway.

"Tasmin," Tas answered. Short, sweet, disinterested. But loud, against the din. Confident, in that respect. With his hand off of her, she moved freely to the table to swipe up the glass he'd taken earlier. Instead of drinking it, however, she leaned back against the table, watching him, the glass held tightly.

"You're alright, aren't you? If you need a doctor or something..." Tas quizzed, her thoughts turning. She could always get her hands against his skin for the surest indication of his state. It would allow her to get a sense of his emotions, instead of the tumbling onslaught of the group. She owed him that much, didn't she? To make sure the fever- or whatever it was- didn't kill him? He had kept her from an unpleasant situation moments before, and he wasn't being a creep.

Or, she could just go back to the floor. Admittedly, one was far easier than the other. Unfortunately, Tasmin was curious by nature.

"Ow, I think I got glass into my hand," Tas glanced at her unharmed left hand, lifting it up to eye level and squinting at it in the dim light. Her palm was facing her, her eyes trained at the center of it. Just a few seconds, that's all she'd need. If he'd just grab her hand, she'd have a window into his mood, however brief. Condensation from her glass coated her hand now, giving a thin layer of liquid above the skin.

"Pyr." He offered in reply when she gave him her name. Well, at least he knew what to call her now. Though he had been toying with the idea of 'little shit' as an appropriate nickname. He took a long swallow of orange juice- he'd switch back to water after this. He dehydrated with remarkable speed and thus was always thirsty. So, he drank more water than was even close to normal. He rolled his eyes as she grabbed the partially drunken glass of the table.

The mere mention of a doctor was enough to send a flare of white hot anger up his spine, spiking his body temperature momentarily. He scowled and crossed his arms over his chest. His hold on his drink, fingertips barely touching the lip of the glass as it dangled from his hand, hardly looked secure. "No." His voice made it clear that he thought the suggestion was retarded. Even if he had been sick, he'd handle it himself, the same way he always did. He was particularly susceptible to little colds and such when he couldn't stay warm enough, but it was the flus that were dangerous. Anything that might cause a fever.

"Glass, from what?" He snapped, glancing around. He didn't see any broken glass, but he'd been around enough drunk and drugged people to know they sometimes didn't realize when they were hurt. So he gave an aggrieved sigh and set his drink aside, grabbing her hand in both of his to inspect the palm in the uncertain light. Strangely enough, emotion-wise, nothing was secret. He wore every emotion on his skin- irritation, anger, a lazy sort of desire. Under it all though was a seething pool of anger, not at anything in particular. It was contained but only just.

Tasmin jumped slightly when he grabbed her hand. It was what she intended, but she still wasn't quite prepared for her hand in his. After resisting the initial instinct to ball her hands up, her eyes rose to watch him examining her hand. The anger she now had a clear sense of made her rethink standing near him. He seemed so... at ease, in the sense that his motions were fluid and easy, not tense. So where had it come from?

"I-I guess not, it's nothing," Tasmin stammered, closing her fingers around her palm. "Sorry." Her eyes had grown a bit wider, her breathing a bit quicker, but only slightly. She should have taken her chances on the dance floor with the man from before. And, as a side note, she probably shouldn't be dulling her ability with the drink.

"Thank you... For, uh, the... For everything, Pyr." Better to give a blanket statement than risk forgetting something. Besides, the teen wanted nothing more than to distance herself. It still didn't answer why he was hot- could anger really build a person's body temperature to that level? Tasmin considered it, but only for a moment. There was something else. Drug use? She wasn't familiar enough with the effects of enough drugs to rule it out. It seemed plausible that a pill could do that- hadn't she heard something about it? If she had, her mind was a bit too fuzzy to recall.

In a split second decision, the teenager decided to use her ability as an empath to calm his rage. A gradual sort of push, nothing that he couldn't resist. Just a calmness emanating from Tasmin to him, like a sound wave. Ignorable, but there. Pleasant, almost comforting, even, but merely a suggestion of sorts in the end.

There were a lot of sources of the anger Pyr kept hold of, some of it only half remembered. Or not remembered at all. But the fact was, at this point Pyr didn't feel like he was bottling up anything- angry was his natural state of things, other emotions washing fluidly back and forth. He didn't hide what he felt. There was no need to. At least, not any that he felt were good enough to go through the effort for. He let her hand go when she decided it was nothing, nodding in agreement.

"Probably just drank too much." He pointed out dryly. "Are you sure you want that drink?" He wasn't really in any hurry to make his way back across the club to the bar. He was content. It was a weird, lingering feeling for him that made him loathe to move or do anything that would shake it.

He raised an eyebrow, not really sure what she was thanking him for. Honestly puzzled, he downed the rest of his juice and tossed the glass from hand to hand. "So, drink or not?"

At first, he didn't notice anything different. Pyr didn't make a lot of friends, and he especially didn't talk about his ability. He wasn't used to being around people who could do things like manipulate emotions. Gradually though, it began to make itself know. Not in any specific way, just that he suddenly felt... sleepy. Not tired precisely, but like he simply wanted to go find a pile of blankets (and people, preferably) to settle into.

Tasmin glanced at the drink, reluctantly moving her uninjured hand back to it.

"It's so loud. I didn't know... There are just so many people." Tasmin answered, not quite addressing the question of whether or not she wanted the drink she'd requested earlier. Now that she wasn't touching him, she had less to fear, but her confidence hadn't returned to her voice. "The drink helps though, doesn't it? Makes everything quieter." She hadn't meant the literal volume of the place. She meant the thoughts and feelings that were threatening to crowd her own out, but the distinction wasn't one she'd draw attention to. Tasmin set her glass down on the table before brushing both hands along her skirt to dry them. Once they were dry, she smiled sweetly at Pyr.

"Maybe later. I've also changed my mind about the dancing. Will you dance with me? Please?" Tas' eyes had shed their fear even if her voice hadn't, replaced now by hopefulness. She held out her right hand, hoping he'd take it and go with her to the dance floor. It wasn't like he was the oldest person here, and he seemed to mean well, anger and all. If not him, she was bound to run into someone else, so there was little difference to her.

Plus, he was warm. It was as pleasant as it was strange to feel the warmth near her. Like being in the crowd, without the shoving and insensitivity of being in the crowd. And if she moved away her calming influence would be immediately ceased, making the effort pointless on her part, which of course Tasmin was against doing if she didn't have to.