2020-04-05 - Karaoke After Party

Kailey's hand falls and she finishes watching the performance. Those green eyes of hers follow Everett's last gaze and the smile fades to something softer and attention returns to him. When he returns to the table she holds out a hand to him and says, "That's such a sad, sweet song. What do you usually sing?"

On the one hand, Ruiz isn't going to get to see Joe make a fool of himself up on stage. On the other hand, he got an unexpected kiss out of it, which is sufficiently distracting to make him forget about his drink for a few moments. "Mm," is rumbled in approval, and paired with a crinkle-eyed smile before he leans back in his chair and finishes off his tequila in a single pull. Empty glass slid onto the table, he taps it away with a fingertip and idly watches Sparrow's approach. Is he checking her out while he's at it? You bet your sweet bippy he is.

And Joe, for his part, looks as smug as a cat in a sunbeam, momentarily heavy-lidded and amused, smiling to himself. A little pink, now, truth be told, under the beginnings of a new tan. Then his gaze follows Ruiz's, and he's watching Sparrow in turn, as she heads back to her table. He hasn't risen to get them new drinks, not yet. Perhaps he caught that gesture.

August has a drink of his lager, watches Joe and Ruiz watching Sparrow, thoroughly entertained for some reason or another.

Sparrow croons a, "Javier," on her way past with the shots for her own table, followed by an equally sweet, "Gentlemen," for the other two. In her wake, a waitress brings by the shots she ordered, pointing after the artificial blonde just as she's toasting, "To Sexy Pants Adventures," with the other three at her table. There's only a little nose-scrunch when the tequila goes down, probably not the smoothest selection, and it leaves her voice a little rough as she poses, "Maybe I'mma have to get some sexy pants of my own," absently. Before that thought gets too far along, she looks back at the other table full of familiar faces then tilts in toward Rhys to murmur something quiet-like, brows pitched to suggest a question.

"Roen," is de la Vega's prelude to a slant of dark eyes August's way, and an irritated murmur of, "you ever get tired of being so fucking self-righteous?" He runs an inked finger around the rim of his glass, tipping it just enough to make it wobble around in a decaying orbit until it settles flat against the table again. "You don't need to answer that." The lazy cat otherwise known as Joe Cavanaugh is observed with some amusement enroute to Sparrow and her attention-stealing invocation of his name. "Buenas tardes, Philomena," he greets amiably enough, dark eyes glittering. Then, "What're you two drinking?" to his tablemates. Looks like time for another run.

Picking up his mug of beer, Everett tilts it back, draining it in three gulps, before slamming it back down on the tabletop with a gasp of air. Green eyes dart to another table while he covers his maw with his thick forearm, wiping away the suds that tried to escape from the mug. Dropping himself down in his chair, Everett pushes the mug away in favor of his bourbon and nods to Kailey returning his gaze to her, "Yeah. I usually sing my heartache out." He makes a vague gesture towards from where he fled, "can't you tell?" he asks, with a hint of a smirk. He jerks a thumb over his shoulder to Rhys and Sparrow's table, "At least I was able to make someone laugh. At my pain." He flutters his eyes and tilts his head back. The same forearm that cleaned his chin is pressed to his forehead. Faux-swoon.

Itzhak comes back in, finally. He was out there way too long for a smoke. Like maybe he had to go on a long and drunken unhappy ramble around the neighborhood. In his tight shimmery mesh shirt. He rolls back in, rubbing his eyes, blinks when he sees Ruiz, and goes right on over to him no matter what he's doing and hangs himself on him like a coat.

Kailey's eyes follow Everett's gesture and then back. There's a thoughtful and considering look about her. "Hmmm...music's good for that," She says before dropping her voice. Talking to him quietly as she slowly dips a cheese stick way more times than needed. There is, for a brief moment, mild concern and then that soft smile returns.

Joseph lifts a hand, lazily, to forestall Ruiz getting up. For there's tequila for all of them, it seems. "Looks like she's your good fairy this evening," he opines to Javier, taking one of the shots. He almost never drinks tequila. It's been a bad luck charm ever since it failed him in Hawaii....but for Sparrow and Javier, it seems, he'll make an exception. Guessing at who ordered it for them, he lifts it to the blonde in salute. "To your very good health," he says.

Then Itz reappears, and he's looking back at him, concerned. "You all right there, buddy?"

Lyric doesn't watch so long that she's capturing the twerking, her eyes land back on Tyrone then his phone. "Are you winning?" The question holding a hint of amusement. Her phone remains in her pocket. "Thanks for the congrats. We're super excited about it. Groupies are encouraged to come watch the show," teasing him a little as she reaches for her drink again to finish it off. "I am going to get another drink, do you want anything?"

August tilts his head, considering Ruiz's question very seriously. Presently, he says, "No. Never." He eyes the shots as they're brought over, glances at Sparrow and gives her a nod of thanks. He takes one up, gives it a smell. "Mmmm." He knocks it back, runs it over his teeth. "Not bad," he says, eyeing the glass. Then he holds it up to Sparrow in a gesture similar to Joe's, sets it down.

"Ah, here's the man himself. How're you holding up, sugar." He pats Itzhak once he's laid himself all over Ruiz.

"To Sexy Pants Adventures!" Rhys agrees, downing his own, and there's a bit of a nose-wrinkle from him as well, though not so much he wouldn't probably drink another. Oh, you definitely should get some sexy pants of your own," he replies to her pondering, "...specifically sexy ones, not just the ones that you happen to be wearing at any given time, I mean." Her whisper gets a pause and a nod. "Go for it. I need a sec anyhow." Apparently, to finish off the tater tots, say goodbye to their tablemates as the other couple slip off, and then stroll in the general direction of the bathrooms and disappear. ...into one. He doesn't do this 'magic' thing like all y'all weirdos.

It's like Ruiz has a sixth sense when it comes to lanky, tattooed musicians. Itzhak beelines for him, and by the time he's leaning in, the cop is half out of his seat to put an arm around him. A tight squeeze follows, and a jostle of the taller man as he murmurs something quietly. And then, lo and behold, the tequila fairy doth indeed arrive. He shoots Joe a grin, passes his shot to Itzhak, and hitches his chin to the waitress to indicate that she bring him another.

And, if he happens to catch Sparrow's eye, an intent look for the blonde before his attention's turned back to his tablemates. "I think I'm going to call bullshit on that," he tells August flatly.

Tyrone looks up and blinks at Lyric's first question. It takes a second, but he does realize why she's asking after a second and he chuckles. "Not playing a game. Reading a book," he explains, holding his phone up so that she can see that it's actually just a bunch of text on his screen. When Lyric encourages the groupies, his smirk grows. "Oh yeah? Your friends going?" he asks, nodding his head towards Everett and Kailey's table. "Noticed you being pretty cozy with them the last couple times I seen you out."

He doesn't bother whispering back. It's not that he can't, the monkey has seen people do it before, and if there's one thing monkey can do is something monkey has seen. Shaking his head softly, Everett pulls his forearm down while he shakes his head, "It's not you, Kiki. It's from before I came here, that's all." Reaching across the table, Everett gives Kailey's right wrist a squeeze, before his forefinger strokes an oblong circle on her forearm.

"That's Sugar Bear to you," Itzhak mumbles into Ruiz's shoulder. He nods, though. His hair is dewed with the light rain, hanging suspended in all those black curls. As a result, Ruiz gets sprinkled a little. "'m okay." He settles into the booth, accepts the shot, salutes the entire room with it, and downs it.

"Right right," Sparrow murmurs with feigned seriousness for that pants-related distinction that Rhys draws. When he excuses himself, she watches him go. At least until he's moved past enough people and tables that the view's not as good as it could be, anyway. Then there's another look toward the other table, which means a crooked smile for Ruiz... and a warmer one for the lanky man latched onto him. She says her goodbyes to her other tablemates, murmuring more promises of axes and magic soon, but then she's on her feet with her bottle in hand and head over thattaway toward the booth which has collected most of the older men in the room. And it's Itzhak that gets her attention first as she tells him, "You're looking good," in a way that implies comparison, like maybe what she meant was better.

"What book?" Of course is the next obvious question to Tyrone. Lyric does glance at the screen not for any other reason that to see if the title was shown. "I read Ready Player One then saw the movie. They were so different really in a lot of ways." His own question has her looking puzzled then over towards Everett and Kailey when they were indicated. "Oh. I don't think so, they don't even know about it." Without a real response from him about a drink, she holds up a finger in a 'hold on a minute' gesture. "I'm getting a drink, be right back." Because three wasn't enough.

Joe's killed his, which means he's got a moment to kind of genuflect to the particular little slug of hell that is tequila sans lime or salt. Apparently his habit of more or less submerging in bourbon like a Russian sub in the Baltic hasn't steeled him to liquor in the abstract as much as one might think. Then he's glancing over and grinning lazily at Sparrow. "Hey," he says, pleasantly....then back to Itz. "Rebecca had to go, but she told us to see you home safe," he tells him, quietly.

Kailey nods her head and says, "Okay," Her voice soft. Then she turns back onto the rest of her sticks and that daquiri. There is no doubt Kailey has an appetite. "So...once I finish inhaling this what do you wanna do?" She asks Everett.

"Please, I'm the bear at this table," August says around a drink of his beer. "You don't even have a--" He stops, eyes his beer. Decides he's not quite drunk enough to bust out with that. "Anyways," he continues, "you're sugar. You want to be sugar bear you're going to need someone to knit you a sweater."

He eyes Ruiz, shrugs. "When I do," he doesn't seem to doubt that, "you'll be the first to know." He nods a greeting to Sparrow. "How're you doing?"

Joseph can't resist - agreeing smoothly, before anyone else can get a word in edgewise, "You certainly are."

"Oh! Um, just beer!" Tyrone calls after Lyric when she leaves to get her drink. He forgot about alcohol? What could possibly have distracted him? Especially since he hasn't even glanced at her boobs /once/ in any sort of intentional fashion. Except, now that she's walking away, he definitely does make an effort to try to hide the fact that he's absolutely watching her do it.

Joe and his lack of tequila tolerance are watched absently for several long seconds by the cop to his right. Is Javier amused? Yes. Yes, he is. He murmurs a low gracias as his shot arrives, and turns it just so between thumb and forefinger before downing it all in one go. This, apparently, requires the removal of his ballcap, and a flickered, wolfish grin as Sparrow arrives. "You think so, do you, old man?" to August and his assertion. Itzhak and his rainswept..ness don't seem to bother him in the least; he sits comfortably shoulder to shoulder with the man while he contemplates the blonde visiting them.

"Well," lingers Everett as he turns the hard booze around in his fingers. His gaze goes from Kailey to his glass while he ponders. And then he lifts his gaze up towards the bar for a moment. Elbow on the tabletop, he rests his chin in his palm again and returns his focus to Kailey. "I know hanging out in a bar right now must not be all that much fun for you right now. So why don't you suggest something." His finger taps twice on her forearm before he starts to scribe something on her.

Alison finished her prior beer at some point earlier in the evening and had gotten started on another, but at some point she opted to stop haunting the bar stool that she'd been sitting at for ages by herself. Hopping off it, she makes her way over to the booth containing Ruiz and the others. Rather than inviting herself in, she does the next closest thing, grabbing a chair from nearby and setting it down at the end of the booth table, then sitting. She puts her beer down on the table and glances around at the collection of people. "Hi."

Ali's shorn head reveals further freckles over her scalp and neck, and her eyes look a little bigger than they do usually, even without the frame of red locks. Something about her affect's different than usual, regardless.

"A what?" Itzhak demands stridently of August. "I don't have a WHAT?" He glances at Joe, a little bashful, a little hangdog, and murmurs, "She texted me. Thanks." Then he sags back in the booth, like he forgot his spine, and smiles back at Sparrow rakish and crooked as her own. "Well hey there, vorobeytshikeleh, lookin' pretty good yaself." Is this kind of really obviously a front? Yeah, yeah it is. On the other hand, is he in fact cognizant of lounging in the sexiest booth in the room? Yes, yes he is. When Ali shows up, he looks at her blankly, but she speaks and recognition blooms over his face. "Oh. Hi! I thought you were a super hot boy."

Turning to walk backwards a minute, Lyric gives Tyrone a thumbs up en route to the bar before turning around and finishing the short walk there. Miracle of miracles, she didn't bump into anyone on the way! Once there, she fishes money out of her pocket like the other few times and orders another of hers and a beer for Tyrone, not going for a glass but a bottle. Then having second thoughts, she goes for two of each and paying for those too.

With a triumphant smile and claiming the spoils, Lyric tucks a bottle beneath each forearm and holds them there against her body while her own glasses are held in each hand. Now to maneuver her way back to the table. "Here we go!" She doesn't even try to seat herself, but stops directly in front of him so he can get the drinks and place them down. "Hope you're thirsty."

Kailey chuckles and says, "I wasn't a heavy drinker previously. So it isn't that big a thing." Her eyes drop to his fingers and her smile broadens. "Mmmm, ditto," She replies softly, reaching to snag that hand and bring it to her mouth for a quick kiss. "Well...we -could- go either to your place or Lillian's and watch Legend? Get some popcorn...or, like, seaweed strips for you?" A playful wink given at that last bit. The last mozzy stick disappears and her daquiri is almost gone. "Ok. Bathroom again," And she is up and off to the loo.

Rhys returns, to clarions of joy! Okay, no, he just returns, by way of the bar, where he can get himself another beer, and judging by the point, Everett one of whatever it is he's already got. This is punctuated by a grin and, "Nice performance," as he passes the guy and Kailey, on his way to catch up with Sparrow again. And all the grumpy old men.

August gestures at Joe, gets a wicked grin like he's going to say something...and then doesn't, halted by something or another. Instead, he narrows his eyes at Ruiz and says, "Well if you want to prove it, by all means. Let's see it." He smiles at Alison as she joins them, indicates her and Sparrow with a nod. "We have judges, even. Impartial ones." Well, after a fashion. "It's not important," he assures Itzhak, "you're plenty sexy and manly without it." He pauses. "Or maybe I'm just misremembering. Don't sweat it."

When Lyric returns with multiple drinks, Tyrone's eyebrows raise a little. But, seeing as she's got her hands full, he quickly reaches out to snag the bottles out from under her arms. And of course, now he can't help it. Boobs. "Shoot, you kiddin'? You sure /you're/ gonna be able to handle all that, shawty? You kind've a lightweight, ain't ya?" he asks, setting his bottles down on the table. And then, since he's got the opportunity, he moves to help her back into her seat as well, since her hands are also full. "So do I need to sign a form or give you my email address or something to get on your groupie list?" he asks while she gets a chance to settle back in.

Sparrow chirps a fond, "Hey," for Joe, telling him, "I like seeing you wherever I go," like maybe he should make sure that keeps happening. When she tells August, "I'm doing alright," it's in such in a way that suggests alright is a bit more than the word might indicate by default between the brightness in her voice and the breadth of her smile. "You were amazing up there tonight," she tells him. Looking back to Itzhak with a high pitch of her brows, she adds, "And so were you." She stares his way for a moment longer before dipping her gaze toward Ruiz. The left corner of her lips ticks up a little higher, something in her eyes decidedly expectant, but she doesn't say one damned thing. But maybe that's cuz she's promptly distracted by the (former?) redhead pulling up next to her, Alison's arrival stealing her focus. And demanding action. She should probably ask first, maybe offer warning? Nah. She just lifts her empty hand and goes right to petting that buzzed head. So fuzzy! She's still looking down at Alison when she asks, "What're we judging? I can't promise impartiality. Totally susceptible to bribes. But definitely down to judge whatever."

His hand surrenders without a fight, and Everett bends the wrist to make the kiss that of a gentlemanly kiss to the back of his hand. "Oh. My, tee hee," the biker says, lifting his chin from his palm and fanning himself with it before pretending to flirtatiously hide behind that hand. When it's back under his control again, he lays it in his lap and Kailey leaves him looking a smidge confused while she gets up.

A confusion that's replaced with a smile to Rhys, "Thanks. We need to talk though. I think your passport is a forgery." Left alone again, Everett takes inventory of his drinks, and puts his leather jacket back on, patting the pocket for extended inventory, before pulling out his phone and paying it some attention. And IMDB.

Alison appears and Joe's squinting at her a little. He's met her, he knows it. "I 'member you. I ran into you when that li'l blonde girl was tryin'a beat on de la Vega there. Near the Grizzly. You just weren't rockin' that whole Tank Girl look at the time." he says, finally. A flick of a look at Ruiz, and he says, almost sotto voce, "Don' be givin' me that look, you know how I react to this stuff." It's tasted like failure and bitter experience for twenty years or so, after all.

"Well, back atcha, we'll have to make sure that happens more often, won't we?" Joe says, cheerfully, in turn, tipping his empty shot at Sparrow. It's August, however, who gets the wink dropped. And no Glimmer needed, even, to share that thought. Apparently they're on the same wavelength.

"Oh, thank you! You too," Kailey says cheerfully as she returns to the table. Bobbing her head at Rhys as she reaches to pick up her drink. Finishing off the last gulp without sitting back down. Instead standing behind Everett with hands on his shoulders and chin resting lightly on his noggin. She sways her hips slightly to the bar music as her arms wrap around the giant of a man. "Shall we say our goodbyes?" She asks him with a glance over at Lyric and then her eyes swing over to August too.

"Well you'd be the sole member if you started a fan club right now, so may as well get in early and president it." Lyric teases as he takes the bottles and leaves her holding the glasses. It was easier to maneuver anyway, with the bottles gone, so she places her own down on the table while he gets her chair for her. Sinking down into it, she grins, tilting her head a little as she regards him. Suddenly her phone chirps a text, but she doesn't immediately check it, cause as is her thing, when she's in conversation, her phone remains in her pocket. Definitely not a slave to the device. Reaching out, she does take one of her drinks in hand and sips at it. "I usually enter all the drinking contests. I'm building up a tolerance maybe?"

Close on the heels of that additional shot, a few more drinks are delivered to the table of very not grumpy old men. Tequila for de la Vega, of course; his glass is plucked out of the cluster and slid closer, August's challenge met with a husky-voiced chuckle. "Are you seriously fucking suggesting we throw down, right here? Please, Roen. I have some class." No. No, he does not. Not a shred.

Then a slug of his drink, his free arm going across the back of the booth's padded seat top, not quite touching Joe's shoulders. Throughout, a slanted-eyed look for Sparrow that meets expectation with.. invitation? And then a slow, assessing look for Alison as she pulls up a chair. By the tone of it, he likes what he sees.

There's a loud noise as Tyrone laughs in reverse a couple times, shaking his head and moving back to his spot. "Why you tryin'a be an alcoholic?" he asks, picking up and taking a pull from his beer as well. Though, as he lowers it, the smile fades a little as he considers Lyric. Instead, he sets the bottle back on the table assertively and shakes his head. "Never mind. Why folks drink is they own business. Some of what I heard you tell, I s'pose you got almost as much reason as me." But, he smiles again, not letting the mood get dark. "So if I'ma be the president of your fan club, what kinda special inside perks you giving us members? Gotta know what to advertise, after all."

The (usually) redhead snorts at Itzhak. "Hey." She pauses for a moment, then glances towards Ruiz, then back at Itzhak. "Had a few tonight, huh?"

"Think you might be barking up the wrong tree--growling?-- there. I usually end up hanging out with the other sort of bears all day. Claw length, fur coat health, sure, but beards are ano--aaaagh" That's when Sparrow's hand rubs over her stubbly head, Alison's face screwing up a little, the woman pulling away from the touch somewhat reflexively. "Hi to you too."

And then to Joseph. "Yep. Just decided to do that a few days ago. Change of season and all. Not everything made it through the winter. Something changed inside my head, needed to change something outside my head too." She shrugs. And then looks back at Ruiz. "No hard feelings, I think, about the car thing, yeah? I hear he --" Alison gestures at Itzhak. "--popped that dent out. That was a gut instinct as well. Y'see someone on your team throwing down, first reaction's to help out. Mine, anyways." Another shrug, and then she pulls her beer to her lips, taking a sip of it.

Everett's found head down in his phone when Kailey returns. And being draped on doesn't appear to be that much of a problem for him. Least of all from her. "Just a second," he murmurs to his phone. His head gets a through scratching, before putting his phone face down on the tabletop, looking across the bar to Lyric and Tyrone, and then pulling back his drinks. The bourbon he'd been nursing is finished easily, thrown back and swallowed. The other, lifted, saluted to Rhys as thanks again, and once again he throws it down the hatch. Sucking air through his teeth, the giant puts both glasses down and reaches behind him blindly, grabbing whatever he can reach of his assailant behind him and squeezes gently.

"It's karaoke night and I got dumped," Itzhak informs Alison. "I had more'n a few." Amusingly, he doesn't slur when he's this drunk, but his hilly New York Yiddish accent goes into hyperdrive. He snorts laughing when Sparrow fuzzles Ali's head. "Hey, thanks," he adds to Sparrow, eyebrows drifting up. "Did you sing? I missed it if ya did." Then he caaaasually slumps over, leaning against Ruiz, super casual and also super, super heterosexual. Extremely bros. "Hey," he says to Rhys, blatantly looking him over and not even trying to hide it. "AJ, right?"

August returns that wink of Joe's, chases it with a bob of his eyebrows. He has a sip of beer--which he almost chokes on as Ruiz claims to have class. "Class?" He coughs, gets a napkin to wipe his chin. "This is the Pourhouse, de la Vega." This is a fine way to say hi to Rhys, but he makes the most of it, murmuring, "Don't mind me, de la Vega's just perfecting his beer choking technique." He smiles a thank you to Sparrow for the compliment. "Same for you, ma'am."

Recovering, he eyes Alison and her shorn head. And more than that, maybe. He nods presently, focuses on her. "I know that feeling. And it looks good." He waves a hand at the bit about bears and 'bears'. "Don't worry about it, de la Vega has too much class to take off his shirt in the Pourhouse, it's fine."

Kailey gives a playful yelp as Everett squeezes and finds a momentary ticklish spot. She jumps back slightly before giggling. Then she turns to head towards Lyric's table. Tyrone is given a smile and she waits for a proper moment to insert a wave to the other woman. "We're taking off. It was great seeing you again." Pleasant and friendly before she withdraws towards August's table next.

"-You- can sing," She tells the gray-haired grump as she cautiosly approaches his table. "You're also looking a bit better. Just wanted to say Hi. So, Hi!" And she waves before blinking at Alison. "OH! Hi again," She gives a lopsided and awakward smile. "And bye, cause we're leaving. But see you around I'm sure."

"I'll give you a t-shirt. Once I get one made." If ever. Lyric grins as she tries to imagine a real fan club. "Tickets to the concerts maybe? A disk copy of our single signed by all the band?" Way to go Lyric, volunteering the rest of them! After a moment she leans in and grins, totally ignoring the mention of her drinking and all the rest about that, ignoring unpleasantness like always. "Do you even know the name of the band?"

As Kailey approaches, she looks up and smiles at her. "You too, if you ever need anything let me know." She waves back before looking expectantly at Tyrone for his response.

"As long as you're not secretly passport control," Rhys replies to Everett on his way, and stops next to Sparrow, bumping her shoulder lightly with his, though it's Alison who gets an examining look. The earlier performance means he's sorted out who she is by now, but the new look is... New. "Ready for summer?" he asks watching her draw away from the other woman's fuzzling, and then gives a grin to the table at large. "Evening. Good work tonight," he adds to August and Itzhak, Ruiz and Joseph getting a mock-stern, "Do better next time." There's a tiny lift of one brow when he gets checked out, though it looks more amused than anything else. "Rhys," he replies, by way of self-introduction, and probably correction. A pause, shuffling through the mental rolodex. "...Itzhak, yeah?"

"I'd like that," Sparrow croons to Joe, all the sweeter for that nerdy reference. Those who've been coming to Karaoke Night for a while might've seen her and a handsome Londoner up on stage doing the Joan Jett and Paul Westerberg version of Let's Do It some months back. Hard to be sure if her murmur of, "So into the Lori Petty thing," is to let him know she caught the comic geekery or to just perv on Alison's new look some more. Without anymore touching for now, petting hand shoved into her shorts pocket. When Alison explains the new look, Sparrow's smile dims a little bit, that mindset something she might get given the changes to her own look.

"I diiiid," Sparrow tells Itzhak, gaze only lifting after those words are spoken. "And I fucking killed it." But then he's looking toward Rhys. And calling him AJ. And suddenly Sparrow's cheeks are a rather brilliant red. Nice try, Itz! But no. She leans into that shoulder-bump until she can nearly hide one blushing cheek against Rhys as she appends, "Captain Evans," to his self-made introduction. "Finest pirate this side of the bay. Will totally pilfer your poetry and use it against you." The high pitch of her brows seems a warning to all present, lest they fall prey to that technique too. Round the table, she nods for his guess at Itzhak then points to the man beneath him. "Javier. Joe. August." Those two get a finger wiggled between them. "Comic nerds." And then, "Alison." And, "Phil."

"Don't you try to pin this on me," grunts the cop to August around another sip of tequila, cool as a fucking cucumber. "I'm not the one who can't keep his liquor down. And yes. Class." He scowls at the other man, like he's challenging him to come right out and say that the rough trade Mexican wouldn't know class if it knocked him out cold and shoved him in the trunk of a car. To Itzhak, when he angles in with that super hetero lean, a low murmur of something that seems to amuse him. Dimples and crow's feet and all. Then a little upnod for Rhys, who looks passingly familiar to him. Professionally, perhaps? "Hola."

"It's that time'a year," Joe agrees, lazily. "I been feelin' restless enough to get new ink. Think I may yet do it, when I got the boat in good enough shape to kinna give my hands a rest for a few days. Thought about gettin' my hair cut back down, but that got vetoed." Comfortably close to Ruiz - he gives the cop a fond glance. "I didn't realize that was your ex," he asides to Itz. "I mean, earlier."

August's comments have him pursing his lips, desperately trying to repress a grin. "That's you, de la Vega. The epitome of class." Sparrow, however, gets a positively wolfish grin, for some reason. "Right?" he agrees. Now that there are introductions, he reorients on Alison. "Pleased to meetcha, Alison." Then, "Same to you, Rhys."

When his gropey giggling girl leaves his grip, Everett picks up his phone again and takes a look at its devoid of new information. A grimace crosses his face. Looking from the phone to Lyric, he hevies a soft huff and stands, sliding the phone inside his jacket. Her hair style is easy to find, so, in contrast, is she. And slipping a hand around the nape of Kailey's neck, Everett joins her in time for her goodbyes before he adds, "There's someone else I want you to meet." The grip on the back of her neck makes it easy to guide Kailey around, and when she's done there, Everett shows her to Rhys, "Rhys, Kailey. Rhys is the manager of the Firefly Club. You mention his name at the door," he explains to Kailey, "and you get free drinks."

Everett goes wide-eyed and shakes his head. And then nods his head, his eyes normal. He plays that fun game three more times. "And this is Sparrow." He doesn't remember what she does so, that's the only introduction she gets.

"Rhys. I knew that!" No he didn't. "How's by ya. Yeah, Rosencrantz, how'd you know?" Itzhak seems impressed by Rhys's feat of recognition, like there's more than one six foot plus Jewish New Yorker with a nose the size of the Chrysler Building. He reaches over to shake Rhys's hand, long damn arm with a big long-fingered hand on the end of it. "Good thing I don't write no poetry, I got nothin' you want." Sparrow's blazing blush he looks at without a hope of figuring out what's going on there.

When Ruiz whispers to him, he promptly matches Sparrow's color. He clears his throat, blinking at nothing.

"Hey, awesome. And for the little stuff, don't they usually give out like guitar picks and stuff?" Tyrone asks. Because he's been at a concert, once. "And I wouldn't be much of a president if I didn't know the name of the band was Augmented Reality, would I?" he replies, smirking a little and taking another swig from his beer. "Although ... remind me which instrument you play? Bass, right? And sing? And write some of the songs?" Then, he chuckles again and smirks. "Which is all the more reason you ain't never go'n get me up to karaoke in front of you. And then Kailey approaches the table and Tyrone looks up and offers her an upnod. And then there's Everett, who will also get a nod if he stays for a greeting. As they turn away, Tyrone gestures after them. "They ain't your ride, is they?" he asks.

"Aw, shit, sorry to hear that. You've still got this guy, though, right?" Alison grins at Itzhak as her finger extends to indicate Ruiz.

She grins at August as well. "Thanks. I've never really done anything with it other than chop off a few inches, but.." Shrug, and a wave at Kailey as she zooms by before taking off.

She nurses her beer a bit more, taking another sip. "I think this is the first time I've been out since.. the last karaoke night? Ugh."

Kailey smiles at Rhys as Everett leads the way. "Heya!" She says as she holds out a hand in greeting. "Pleasure." And she nods to Sparrow too. "We're taking off for now. This guy hasn't seen Legend. I need to fix this travesty!"

Ruiz has reached the chill drunk stage of the evening, however many tequilas in that he is. Not much of a conversationalist at the best of times, he nurses his drink and enjoys the hell out of that lazy sprawl he's got going on. And meets Joe's fond look with an innocent one of his own. Which turns mock irritated when the blond casts aspersions on his classiness. "Resumiré tu clase," he mutters in what's possibly the worst insult ever coined. Itzhak just gets a chuckle as he returns to his drink.

"I'll one up that and you can have my used guitar pick. One of them. Not my favorite one though." Lyric promises Tyrone, still joking around about it all. With him knowing the name, she practically beams a smile at him. "I didn't know you paid attention when I told you the name." Yep, pretty impressed. "I sing, I play lead guitar, sometimes I help with songs, not so often. Scott, Park and Ico are always writing things though. When I write things, I usually don't share 'em." Her slight shoulders roll at that and she drinks more from her glass. Watching the pair go, she shakes her head. "I walk everywhere I go. Thought you knew that. I don't even got a license." Or a car.

August shrugs at Ruiz, apologetic and rueful, flicks a glance at Joe in a 'look he said it not me' gesture. He finishes off his lager, pushes it aside. "I'm just saying this is the Pourhouse and even Mariah will agree class has no place here. If you wanna take off your shirt for a judgment of who the bear at the table is, no one's going to judge you." Also who's going to call the cops on him? No one in this bar.

"Thank you," he says to Kailey, dipping his head. "No plans to quit my day job, but at least I won't make Eleanor cringe if I decide to seranade her when I come home tonight." 'If'? Probably 'when'. "And yeah--bit better, thanks." Certainly his eye's cleared up and he's not moving like he's injured.

He runs a hand over his hair, nods in agreement with Alison. "I used to have mine longer, a while back, but I got tired of it, so." A snort, when Sparrow calls him a comic book nerd, but he doesn't try to deny it. He dips his head in a hello to Rhys. "Heya."

"AJ's all skinny and inked," Sparrow informs Itzhak with an amused smirk, a certain glimmer of affection in her bright brown eyes. If she was gonna say anything more about the mythical Boyfriend, it's preempted by Everett's approach. "Bit different tonight," she says of his performance, like she's not sure where she stands on it. But Kailey's explanation of where they're heading gets a wide-eyed look. "Yeah, ya do!" She stares at the woman just a moment longer, like she might wanna say something about where she thinks she's seen her before but, maybe not now. "What you should take away from that movie?" She's looking to Everett again. "Ladies love a man with massive... horns." Both hands lift, even though one's got a bottle in it, to try to shape Darkness' impressive rack as her brows get an unnecessarily cheesy waggle.

But, speaking of what ladies like? Oh, yes, Sparrow has finally caught up on this competition topic and looks between August and Ruiz to tell them, "Yes," very plainly and directly. "I am gonna judge you. You need judges. Sign me up. Take 'em off." She follows that instruction with a long pull from her bottle while she keeps (maybe not entirely sincerely) expectant attention on the men at the table.

A vestige of his old deadly quickness has Joe rendering his opinion on that contest - a flick of his hand and then there's a twenty between two fingers, like a magician's trick. Like someone's about to get it stuffed into a G-string. The blond looks expectantly between August and Ruiz. "I'll be the second judge," he says. Dead serious. Well, inasmuch as anyone grinning like a coyote can be said to be serious.

Alison winces as Ruiz speaks in Spanish for a moment as he's sometimes wont to do, as if she'd been struck by something unexpected. Her hand goes to her ear, rubbing at it briefly before straightening back up. And then she's muttering to herself. "That's not gonna get any better, is it.."

"I've never let mine get past my shoulders, but it seems like it'd be a real pain in the ass to manage, yeah." Sparrow's demand, such as it is, gets another grin out of Alison. "Might have to get one of the rangers in here to do some animal control. Bears'll get you when you least expect it."

"At Lillian's. Because you know what's going to happen if we go to mine. Also, I don't have a television. So we'll end up having to watch it on my phone, all snugged up, and actually that's not sounding like a bad idea now that you've mentioned it." From brain directly to mouth, free range thoughts. Only at Big Lugs. Everett tilts his head back, looking at the ceiling a little while he thinks this through.

"It's almost like I knew everybody was going to steal my gig, so I had to go a little different. You're great. As usual." He frowns, with amusement at Sparrows horn pantomime, and then shakes his head, "Gotcha. A woman loves a big, horny man. Wink wink." Looking down at Kailey for confirmation, Everett asks, "And you can explain this about seaweed strips. Unless you mean when I chased you around the beach."

De la Vega, man of many surprises that he is, actually looks.. well, shy, at the suggestion that he take off his shirt. He tries to play it off with a well-placed elbow to Joe's ribs, and a low chuckle aimed Sparrow's way. Then tips his glass back for some liquid courage, and finally acquiesces with a smack of his tongue against his lips in the wake of it. Thunk as his glass hits the table. "De acuerdo. Hagamos esto." His hoodie's unzipped, shrugged out of, leaving him in a dark tee shirt underneath. "Estas listo, Roen?" He appears wholly oblivious to Alison's discomfort, unfortunately.

"-Yeah- we do," Kailey says to Sparrow with a laugh. She glances suggestively at Everett and then back. There's that mischief in her grin again. Then as there is talk of judging she raises a brow, "Oh...maybe we shouldn't leave just yet," She tells Everett playfully, putting a hand on his arm. Eyes following Sparrow's as she declares herself a judge.

Turning back to Everett her words bely wanting to stay. Tugging at his collar and biting his lip. "How -is- that house search going?" She asks and almost sounds irritated. But then, house searches can be. The tug turns into her linking her arm through his. To guide him towards the door with a last wave to everyone in the bar. "BYEEE!" She shouts over her shoulder.

Itzhak was kinda stunned by whatever it was de la Vega whispered to him, but when that burly Mexican starts taking off his hoodie, he comes back to life. Holy shit! says his wide-eyed expression. Ruiz is gonna do the thing. Then he's digging for a twenty of his own to contribute to the pot.

"We've met," Rhys says, the grin a bit smaller, as he acknowledges Ruiz's hello with a tilt of the head, "Dia de los Muertos, I think." Any other potential sources of familiarity don't need mentioning, any more than the specifics of, "Well, I've seen you perform, for one," to Itzhak. A tilt of the head suggests the karaoke stage, even if he might be thinking more of recent bake sales. He's happy to shake hands. "I'm open to stealing music and other creative endeavours instead. It's important to be flexible in a life of inspiration crime."

The labeling of August as a comic nerd brightens him, fingers snapping and pointing at the man, "Hallowe'en at the comic shop. Nice meeting you, too. And you, Joe the Second." Alison gets a 'hey again' smile before he whispers, "He's lying, but if you catch me there, ask," to Kailey, and a sip of his drink gets a pause as the loss of shirts begins. "Y'know, I feel like I missed something here..."

"No, I knew you didn't have a car. I just didn't know if you /came/ with them, or if you guys were like ...," Tyrone trails off. Then, he shrugs his shoulders. "I dunno. Just didn't wanna keep you if you needed ta go." And then it's back to the fan club. "But of course I paid attention when you told me your band name. It's something pretty important to you. Like ... is his name Brandon? Kid in the cemetery." As Lyric takes another drink, Tyrone leans back in his chair and pops it up into a wheelie, relaxing. "And you can keep your picks, shawty. I'll wait for the t-shirt and make ya sign that. Or gimme a signed copy of that single you fittin' ta press. Then I'll definitely be your pres."

"I came by myself." Lyric says, looking curious as Tyrone keeps grouping her with the couple. "You know me. I don't do uh.. relationships." For lack of a better word. "An' you kinda know why." Okay, so he remembered Brandon. That hits her in the feels and she looks at his face for a long moment before finishing off her drink. The other is still there on the table. "Yeah, Brandon," she says a little huskily as she mentions the little five year old in the cemetery. "I'll sign anything you want me to sign..." her voice drifts off as she notices the Captain stripping down the top half. Both brows arch and she realizes there's some sort of pot going on there. "I have to get in on this, second." Tugging out a twenty from the other back pocket, she walks over and puts it in the Ruiz pile but adds with a wink, "He looks better with them all off." A cheesy grin before she turns and sits back with Tyrone.

He calls her bluff, shrugging his shoulder with a smile, "Hey, if you want to stay and look at 'em, I'm ok with you doing that. But you know I won't be able to compete." Everett puts his hand on his chest and slowly wipes down. "Slowly," is the answer to her question regarding houses. "I wanted that burnt down Bed and Breakfast, the loose goose, the loney goose, the grey goose," He shrugs a shoulder, while he explains, turning to wave goodbye behind him while following Kailey's lead. Leaving. "But the owners wouldn't sell. Would have been a nice, big plot." He looks behind him again, "Let's get outta here before someone suggests its only fair if the judge's go without too."

The discomfort registers for August, but then Ruiz takes a shot and has at it. Well, now August can't back down. He nods appreciatively, says, "Fair's fair," and gets up, sliding out of his jacket and then his yanking his shirt off. There's a bit of bruising all over his belly, like something took a good few shots at him with a club, but it's hard to see because, well, he wasn't kidding. He's pretty thoroughly covered in chest hair from top just under his collarbone clear down to his belt line. He's not, however, particularly built or heavy. There's signs he no doubt was at some point; stretch marks here and there, the way his skin sits.

He's also got a whole lot of tattoos, all of them over scars (and plenty more scars uncovered, but they're not comparing those. Still, here's where the ink's hiding; his back, and his belly, out of plain sight. "And by the way," he points at the money, looks at Ruiz, "if it's a tie of any sort I say we split it." He raises his eyebrows to see what Ruiz thinks of that.

Sparrow makes eyes at Joe for that quick second to her insistence, like he just stole her heart in that moment. She almost squeaks when the nudge-and-chuckle from Ruiz turns into unzipping, her eyes dancing with devilish delight more than anything overtly lascivious. Despite that brief exchange about horniness. When Itzhak throws down cash, she looks confused for a moment--blame the booze--before she realizes, no, judges can't bet. That'd be unfair. She's gotta play at some impartiality here. "Oh right!" She's suddenly distracted when Rhys mentions Halloween. Same night she met both him and August. "Flufftail!" That's got her leaning in against the might-be-pirate to whisper something to him, that grin suggesting it's not wholly innocent. Her gaze tracks to August as she straightens, as she calls, "Truth!" to Lyric's statement. When the shirt's all the way off, she doesn't hide the way she checks him out; why would she when it's what she signed up for? The little grin she wears suggests her, "Not bad," might be an understatement. "I've got so many questions."

See? Tyrone listens! "I didn't think it was a ...," Tyrone starts to say, but then just decides not to finish the thought, instead taking another drink from his beer. And then guys are taking their shirts off. He blinks a little, turning to watch as an eyebrow crooks way up. Then Lyric contributes to the hedonism and he chuckles. "Man. If I could just take my shirt of and get paid, I'd never go back to givin' tours," he jokes as Lyric makes her way back. And then her comment raises his other eyebrow. "Wait. You seen dude nekkid?"

Deal's a deal, even if they had to twist his arm for it. Eyes on August as onlookers start contributing to the pot on the table, de la Vega makes like the twentysomething Marine full of piss and vinegar that he most certainly isn't anymore, and tugs off his tee shirt as well. Over his head first, then stripped off his arms. One thing's clear: strictly speaking, August is the winner of the chest hair contest by far. The cop, though, is covered in ink save a patch of swarthy flank and left pectoral, and pockmarked with what look like old entry wounds from gunshots. He's not rocking anything close to a six pack, but he clearly works out, and is built like a brick shithouse. "Seconded," he responds to August, arms up so people can get a good look before he snags his shirt and starts re-dressing immediately.

"Maybe I should recuse myself, then, I'm biased. Let the lady judge," Joe suggests, dropping his twenty down into the kitty with a languid motion of his hand. "Ladies, in fact," Then Lyric's commenting, and Joe's lack of surprise is, well, epic. He's really kind of giving Roen the once-over, though, very thoughtful indeed. When will he have such a chance again, after all? The blue eyes are very bright, however.

Completely.. completely guilelessly, Lyric watches Tyrone at the question of being naked. There's a sly grin to Ruiz and Sparrow's agreement before she looks back to Tyrone and with all the innocence she can muster, asks, "Hasn't everyone?" Pressing her lips together, she doesn't laugh. She totally doesn't. Not much anyway. At first. Then she totally does. "C'mon, wanna walk me to where our paths separate and I go to my house and you go off to yours?"

The look on Itzhak's face is like Hanukkah Harry delivered him a stack of porno and whiskey. He stares at August and Ruiz strutting their stuff with the world's biggest stupid grin. He also turns vermillion, which colors him from scalp down into the neck of his opaque t-shirt. Then he's wolf whistling for them both with way too much enthusiasm.

Alison blinks a little as Ruiz and August start throwing down in a manner. Or stripping down, anwyays. "Shit, the guys are showing off." She pushes her chair back to give them a little room to.. do muscle men flexes, or whatever they have planned, anyways. Her eyes bounce between both August and Ruiz a few times, her own cheeks turning a little red. "You two've got a fair amount of tattoos and battle scars between you, huh."

"... you know, it's startin' ta sound that way," Tyrone agrees after a few seconds of carefully studying Lyric's reaction. When she laughs, he doesn't stop, verrrrrrry verrrrrry suspicious. But oh well. When she asks to be walked, Tyrone smirks. "Well, I ain't walkin' nobody nowhere. But, if ya want company, I got you. You sure you good to walk?" he asks, nodding towards the drinks on the table. And then, since they're gonna be leaving soon, he picks up his other beer bottle and starts chugging in.

"Hold up, are we betting or is this here just encouragement?" Rhys asks, gesturing to the cash on the table, and at Sparrow's whisper to him, he laughs, shaking his head. "I dunno, aren't there other requirements for that?" he asks her. "Anyway, this is an eating establishment, and I'm half expecting the bartender to come over and insist on chest-hairnets or something. Pretty sure no one can pull that look off." And yet, he looks faintly tempted by whatever she said, if only from amusement. Because yeah, he's definitely amused.

August makes no attempt to hide the quick once over he gives Ruiz. He allows everyone a few seconds to get an eyeful, then yanks his shirt back on before the staff can shout 'no shirt no shoes no service'. "That's the military for you," he says of the scars. "Tattoos just seemed like a good way to, make all the marks my own. Going to Portland in a few, probably get something for those last two scars there, at the top. Which should be all of them."

He snorts at Rhys, shakes his head. "Isn't that just a fishnet shirt?" He cuts a look at Itzhak. "I'm sure you've got one of those in your closet somewhere."

He dips his head at the rest for their appreciation. "So. What say you." He taps the money. "Are he and I splitting this?"

Rest assured, if de la Vega was a blusher, he'd be giving a tomato a run for its money right now. "You happy, Roen?" is tossed August's way hotly, and his ballcap snagged and tugged on as well, as if to provide more cover in the wake of stripping his shirt off in a public venue. Did he sneak a glance at the other man? Of fucking course he did.

Lyric, for whatever reason, gets a flicker of a smile that might be a bit bashful, his arm thrown around behind Joe's shoulders again as he leans in to request another drink from the passing waitress. The look on his face turns positively wolfish when he manages to catch Itzhak's eye.

Sparrow makes a raspberryish sorta sound to Rhys' question about qualifications. And then mumbles a quiet, "Probably," his way, half-dejected. Might as well be calling him a spoilsport. Not that she looks his way. He doesn't have his chest hair on display. The Chief Judge over here is busy taking Ruiz in now, tongue tipping out over her glossed lips as she considers this scar or that ink. Then it's back to August. Then it's up both of their bodies to consider faces, to look at the complete package. And then she rather rudely tips to the side to murmur to Rhys again, as if conspiring with a fellow judge to see how he might weigh in. Maybe.

If Ruiz didn't want Itzhak clambering into his lap and kissing him like he means it, he shouldn't have taken his shirt off in the middle of the Pourhouse.

Apparently Joe has recused himself, for he's not commenting or conferring. He simply scoots over to make room for Itz's response.....and settles on yielding that part of the booth entirely, in favor of getting up to head for the mens' room.

"Nothing wrong with that." That people have seen him naked. Sexy was made to be looked at! Feeling his gaze on her, Lyric grins at the suspicious look from Tyrone before shaking her head. "You're a goof Tyrone. Of course you're not walking anyone anywhere. But what if I asked, do you want to wheel your way out and down the street with me walking beside you? I don't differentiate. You do." Big word for Lyric! As he gets his beer, she gets her last drink and does the same then it hits her and she steadies herself on the table with the flat of her hand, exhaling then inhaling slowly. "So maybe you can just wheel us both down the street," she jokes. With a look back to the contest, she whistles for both before catching that look from Ruiz. She playfully blows him a kiss before looking back at her table mate. "Ready when you are!"

"I mean, I can if popular demand insists, but I'm pretty sure that's just you, Ms. Jones," Rhys says, giving Sparrow and her spoil-sport-look a grin. "Far be it from me to steal another man's spotlight." ...okay, probably unlikely, really, but he's going to enjoy saying it anyway.

"Which branch?" he asks August, but at Sparrow's murmur, he tilts his head and actually gives the competitors a properly considering look before looking back to her and giving a single, confirming nod.

Setting his beer bottle down once it's empty, Tyrone takes two beats, inhales, then belches very quietly but for several seconds. "'scuse me. Ready now," he says, smirking and pulling back from the table. Then, grinning even more, he adjusts his legs and then pats his empty lap and announces, "Your chariot awaits, milady."

"Am I not enough, Mr. Evans?" Sparrow teases, a wicked glint in her eyes. She loops a hand about Rhys' arm, keeping close while he considers the contestants, while she awaits his assessment of her evaluation. When it's given, she tells August, "You are the fuzzy wuzziest, for sure." Which is to say there's but a single prize-winner by her judgment. She might be inclined to apologize to Ruiz, but... well. When he's got an Itzhak in his lap is there really any apology needed?

Ruiz desperately needs another drink, as a matter of urgency. He's well on his way to being drunk, or he'd never have agreed to take his shirt off; but he's nowhere near as sauced as he'd like to be. So when the waitress stops by with a refill, he's just about to reach for it.. and winds up instead with a lapful of tattooed musician. In front of God and everyone, no less. "I-" Nope, there's a kiss, too. And Joe's making some sort of hasty exit, and Sparrow's saying something.. that's really quite irrelevant at the moment. Because he is drunk enough to kiss the guy back, with a few inked fingers knotted in his shaggy curls.

"I am," August assures Ruiz. He's not a blusher either, but even if he was, this doesn't seem to phase him. He's entirely gracious in the face of Ruiz's reaction, maybe even slightly mollified. Which probably says a lot about the sorts of things he got up to in college.

A bow for Lyric's whistling, then he says to Rhys, "Army, 502nd," and slips his jacket back on. He dips his head to Sparrow. "Thank you ma'am." And he proceeds to buy the table a drink as thanks for indulging the two of them. (Two for Ruiz who really looks like he needs it, despite getting to have a nice make-out session as a door prize.)

"Sure," Lyric says when he says excuse me, it doesn't phase her. Getting to her feet, she steadies again, prepared to walk out with him. The patting of the lap has her being the one with the suspicious look this time. It melts, the alcohol maybe giving her poor judgment and she settles on his lap, wriggling a little to get comfortable. "Only till the turnoff to my road," she offers as an afterthought.

Tyrone waits for Lyric to get situated on her lap before he starts rolling. "Yeah, sure, just lemme know where we're headed," he says. And then he's wheeling them out past the other folks. Even with Lyric's added weight on his lap, it does not appear to be very difficult for Tyrone to push. Although, he does have to lean a little so he can see over her shoulder and not run over everyone's ankles.

Once he's able to come up for air, de la Vega can't help but to chime in on the heels of August's commentary, "2nd recon Marines," with a little flicker of his upper lip like he half considered belting out an OORAH for that. There's a nod the way Joe went, as he waits for Itzhak to give him his lap back, and snags his hoodie to tug that back on, too. "Cavanaugh's Navy." Though it's perfectly clear which of those is superior, of course.

"You know where I live. The road, the house." Lyric doesn't add more though. The others get a wave as she is wheeled out, and of course she makes sound effects. "Vroom, Vroom. He's coming in to turn two, Jeff Gordon is hot on his tail. The white flag is up, one lap left, can he keep the lead?"

Itzhak gives Ruiz a chance to breath, whispers something to him, then slithers out of de la Vega's lap, flushed to his scalp. "Best karaoke night EVER." Then he's sauntering out.

"Thank you," Sparrow answers August, and it doesn't sound like that's for the drinks. Though she does hurry up with the beer she's holding so that she can move onto the next. Quietly, she asides to Rhys, "You're driving," even if he very much isn't. The walk back will be way nicer this time than it was last, not a flake of snow to be found out there. As she steals a look over to watch Itzhak coming up for air, she grins and confirms, "Pretty much, yeah." Though maybe the squeeze to Rhys' arm says something. Something else? Something more? Who knows.

Whatever Itzhak tells him before he abandons ship, it skews a crooked little smile across the cop's mouth. He sucks his upper lip between his teeth a moment as he watches the musician, then finishes off his gifted drink, after raising it to August. "Gracias, y felicidades, Roen," he offers with a wink to the other man. Then he follows Itzhak out of the booth, pausing to dig out his phone and fire off a text. There's a glance sent the way of the bathrooms, like he's half considering going in there and hauling Joe out.

August watches Itzhak go, very satisfied with himself. He turns to Ruiz. "See? Hell of a night, all you had to do was take off your shirt for 90 seconds." And then Ruiz is heading off, so he gives him a wiggle of his fingers in farewell. He flashes Sparrow a smile, finishes off his final beer. Reluctantly, he pulls out his phone to produce a ride. "You have all been fabulous, but I need to go home and think about my life choices. I expect," a significant look for Sparrow, Alison, and Rhys especially, "any photographs of that to be sent to me post haste, so I can judge the quality, and also know what might be winding up in my fiance's inbox. No judgment, but a man likes to be prepared."

He glances up at Ruiz, notes his look towards the bathroom. He starts to say something, stops, decides to keep it to himself. "It's been a pleasure, everyone." And then he's off for the door, not missing a step.