thefolder | It's Film Noir see~

Who: Jinx, Noir and Open to all
What: Film Noir has settled on the city
Where: The Digital Dive Bar
When: Sunday Evening

The world is made up of shades of black, white and grey.

Figuratively speaking, it's difficult at times to see where right and wrong lay as shadows of selfish motives and sinful opportunities present themselves and weaken even the most pure hearted. The shades of grey can lead them astray and turn you about till you can't even recognize yourself in the mirror anymore.

Also literally. As night fell upon the city the very color seemed to drain from the world and the clothing and lingo seemed to change to match.

The Digital Dive Bar was a seedy little joint on the north end of Terminal Tokyo, located in the shadow of the Statue of Liberty and adjacent to the Crest of Desire District.

It was the kind of shady bar where you could go to forget yourself for a few hours. Less reputable Digimon liked to gather here and drink away their problems. Some night this gathering of reprobates and rouges was downright cheery.

Tonight was not one of those nights.

A fog of cigar smoke filled the air above their heads as a crooked poker game was played out hour by hour with the chips gradually changing hands from one Mon to another. A vixen of a Renamon worked the bar flirting her way to tips and smoking from a long elegant cigarette holder. She wore a slinky black number that clung to her curves like so many men and mon would be happy to do behind closed doors.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Harley could hardly recognize herself in this black and white world. Still devoid of her color she decided to make the best of this madness and doll herself up to fit the part.

Sauntering through the gruff crowd like she owned the place she snatched a martini glass off someone's table and took to the stage, fluttering her eyelashes at the crowd and flirting with them silently before speaking loud enough to be heard without a microphone. She never had a problem projecting.

"There's a lot of rough looking boys here in this hole in the wall." She cooed "Strong, sharp features, claws and predatory eyes. You remind me of my Puddin' back home."

The Neemon at the piano began to play a little intro for her while she sauntered over to the edge of the stage a lit a lamp to give her some shadows to play with while she sang.

within the mutter of broken dreams and cigarette smoke one was silent, choosing to watch the dame as she ascended like so many battered, bruised, busted angels above the haze of cigarette smoke which clung to the bar and the muttering, pulsing throes of would-be heroes, would-be this and thats which elected to drink away what could have been at the Digital Dive. Perhaps he watched because he was coherent enough to notice. Perhaps it was because out of all of them, he himself wasn't mean. He wasn't tarnished and he wasn't afraid. He had no reason to talk, he had no reason to drink, and he had no reason to not see.

He gaped, blinking at the dame with that voice, his gaze not even broken by the Coronamon sitting on his shoulder - wearing his fedora, after perhaps having one too many, swinging a lighter in tribute to the song.

Harley noticed and giggled, blowing him a kiss from her dark painted lips before addressing the crowd.

"Nice to see someone appreciates me around here. Sure he's got a baby face, but he looks like he might still have some class about him."

She sauntered along the stage and fixed him with her stare. "Well I always did like being teachers pet~ I hope class is in session soon."

The crowd hooted and cheered for the joke as she took the mic once more to sing a song just for him...or at least that's how it felt.

Perhaps the fact the world around him, himself included, was monochrome would perhaps hide the fact he was blushing immediately, even at the kiss being blown his way. His gaze darted around him at her words, before eventually rising to her gaze as she spoke to him - not understanding what she meant. The glitch hadn't changed the fact he was too straight-laced to understand, though his blush indeed darkened. Perhaps it was noticeable? Or perhaps the fact he had to loosen his tie was some indication of that.

His gaze lowered though, with the guffaws of those still with enough about them to understand, Coronamon included. And she started singing again, and he was somewhat safe. That was, until the end of the song, where Coronamon made matters so much worse. The digimon snatched the flower, a small, white carnation, from the Warrior's left breast pocket, tossing it to her feet before conveniently disappearing.

She let out a squeal and swooped down to gather up the flower inadvertently (Or possibly on purpose) giving a good look at her cleavage in the process.

She took a deep breath of the flower and sighed happily.

"It's little gifts like this, and all your applause and smiling faces that really makes this worth it." She cooed. "It makes a girl feel special you know? And feeling special is one of the best things you can do for someone."

As the music started up she fluttered her eyelashes at the Warrior and suggestively stroked the pole of her mic stand.

"Lemme tell you about how I make people feel special~"

Her next song was so laced with innuendo even the digimon patrons couldn't help themselves and began catcalling and cheering wildly as the mood in the bar perked up considerably.

The....cleavage thing definitely made him look away. While in the past he'd fought creatures such as the Cloud of Darkness and Ultimecia, there was something different about a woman which wasn't trying to kill him. Having no tentacles helped, too. No matter her charmsthough, the cat-calls were indeed distasteful. So as the next song drew to a close, he chose to move to the bar, lowering his head and drinking whatever he was offered by a smiling, all too amused Vikemon which appeared to have enough fun at his expense to give him something hard.

Despite the fact he wasn't an innately violent person, conflict or not, if he got hold of Coronamon...

As the clapping died down and the piano player continued on to keep the lively mood rolling, A voice cooed in his ear, warm breath teasing his earlobe.

"Thanks for the encouragement handsome~ It really kept me going."

He'd elected to sit at the bar finally, his head in one hand and glass close. The Warrior had just about ordered his second drink when suddenly, perfume. And someone close, the presence not altogether unpleasant. Her. If anything, the amount of men moving to make way for the dame with the songs which seemed to hint at her wanting more, something better, than life could slap her around the face with was indication. They wouldn't shuffle back, wouldn't afford any schmuck without a pretty face any leeway. That was life, they'd say. It was a bitch and then you died.

The warrior blinked at her voice and stood, offering her his seat and a drink, the Vikemon moving doubly fast for the lady, whatever she chose - or didn't choose. It wasn't exactly chivalry. Not exactly. Perhaps she really did need something better than what life had done to her. Or, perhaps one too many pretty songs, confusion that she'd actually found him within the throngs of the bar, and a predisposed unknowing of alcohol made it give it up so easily.

"You needed support?" He questioned, not believing for a second that someone with that voice, that dress, and the guts to get up there could be self conscious.

"Oooo of course." She cooed and took a seat next to his at the bar. "I may not be as chesty as some of the gals on the kick line but everyone needs a little support when they're performing. The give and take of an audience and the performer is like the most comfortable of bras."

Even the bartender seemed a bit confused by that and she decided it was best just to get Harley her usual, some jello shots and a fizzy Italian soda.

Her perfume smelled like cotton candy.

It's Film Noir see~

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