[Duce]

Michael kept virtually silent on their little walk, smirking with his mini victory as they traveled from what seemed now as though light to dark. And he had thought he had seen the lows already- now he just felt like he'd walked across a wolf's tongue..or through a ghost. Or something easily as eerie and even more sinister. The sounds crawling their way up the street made him want to look around like a frightened cat- but like most things, it made his bored face thicker. His hand would lightly grip at the back of the one slung so friendly across his waist; and he knew it was there for more than just a quick touch and tease. The smells alone! He could piece together this or that, little scenes playing through his head that he dare not acknowledge.

And then they got to the club.

Like walking between curtains into the actual stage. For a moment his head was dizzy with scents and sounds, needy little inputs trying to get his attention until his head buzzed with it. He hadn't even registered the man at the door- hadn't paid much attention until they stopped moving at the counter. He blinked several times, the near-stoned look on his face curling around itself in a cruel grin as he tried to acclimate to the different clima-No. Atmosphere. The air in here was simply different than that from outside. As though they were on a different planet. And he may as well have been, for all the good it was doing him. He looked like the sinister Jester the Devil might keep at his side; smirking like that. The woman's words bothered him, but he couldn't quite concentrate until she looked suddenly afraid. As though Eric had told her that he liked the pair of panties she kept on the second shelf of her closet; back left. It made him snicker a bit and turn to put his face against the vampire's shoulder, little hissing giggles as he tried to work his brain around what was happening. Dude, it was like a freaking safety convention!

He watched the woman produce their armbands, vaguely recalling something...Ah, stay close. Right. He watched the white one go on his arm, and thought 'huh, it matches.' beaming at the vampire. He stopped soon as he started though, frowning. Could think a little better without his hand plastered all on his own- but it was replaced yet again when they began moving off. Taking a deep breath he steadied himself- had to keep re-thinking his position (What position?) as they moved down the plastered hallway. The papers helped a bit, actually. They put a sense of unease in the air. It was like walking around a serial killer's newspaper collection. His 'boasting' board. Was that what it was? Maybe they were all just really morbid and amused by it?

Ooh if wishes were fishes, right?

He smirked then- but it fell off his face in a soft shocked sort of way as they came to the actual club. Bar? Geeze, he hoped there wasn't more even more involved spaces than this. It was like walking into an S&M circus, and the circus animals were people. If he had been heady with scent, smell, sight, sound, hell- even taste before, then he was instantly damn near drunk now. He even wobbled- the first time since he'd donned his very....very sensible shoes. "Oh fuck me." He breathed in an overwhelmed, half disgusted sort of way- voice hoarse enough that you could have thought it was because he'd downed a shot of hard whiskey.

All around the room he saw people in various forms of submission, and those presiding over them. It wasn't so much the clothes he saw and noticed, it was the armbands. Black was prominent, followed by red. And then he saw red all over the place like poppies, purple sparingly- and even less common was white. His head started swirling contemplating what each meant based on who he saw doing, and wearing what. It was like trying to see all of a chinese mafia man's tattoos at once- fucking hard.

"Does it gotta be so damned fucking cold? I think my balls are in my neck." When in doubt- get prissy. He made a small face of irritation, grabbing Eric's hand to sling over his shoulder on a more 'friendly less sexy' sort of way as he leaned into him- as if using his lack of body heat as a coat. His fingers laced with those pale enough to rival his own skin, his look of slightly irritated boredom doing nothing to hide the OH GOD WHAT THE HELL that was most likely dripping from his pores.

...Was it possible to be really fucking excited and scared shitless at the same time?