2013.04.25 - Devil Grind

Even in Metropolis, you can find the places that progress forgot. It is around 11 at night, long past dark in the back alleys where the shadows are a little longer and the eyes that remain open look about a little hungrier. Still, if you bring enough friends and are confident enough in your ability to get home, there is a new establishment that caters to those of the bleeding edge of taste. This is Kali's Razor. A sea of black leather, piercings, mohawks and the roar of the crowd either in support or in derision of the newest local act to mount the stage, all set in dim lighting of black and red. Really, if one wanted a scene to cater to the more primal leanings of music and entertainment while still being even /remotely/ safe, this is the new place to go.

So what is Jeffrey doing here? Its a living. Well one of them at any rate. He's standing at the door checking ID's, letting people in the door, and generally acting as a sizable deterrent against the supreme fuckery that just begs to occur when loud music, short tempers, and alcohol are mixed. He's in short sleeves, his size and muscle and the tattoos that grace both arms on full display. By day, Jeffrey is sweet, full to the brim of good old boy charm. He still is. Tonight though, it will be a bad time to test just how far his patience goes. "Yo Jeff." A reedy goatee of a man says, requiring him to turn to the side and look down. He isn't a prick, it just sort of comes with the job and the look. "Ten minutes, you switch with Mark in the house. You can take it easy, but remember. Its opening week. No screwups, understand?" Goatee doesn't even wait for Jeffrey to respond before he disappears back into the club. Probably figures Jeff will either do the job swimmingly or will screw things up colossally. For a new venue, is there really any in between?

Now Jeffery has been at the door for some time. You know who hasn't been by to show their ID? A certain 20 year old blonde. Who, if you went by her actual ID should be all of like, ten. Oh, and the late-teen Kryptonion clone who is probably only *really* like six or so. But doors? Doors are for suckers. Or at least, people that can't teleport into an out-of-the-way corner to get into whatever the hell club Illyana wants.

Black leather? Yeah, we can do that. Illyana grabbed Conner and dragged him off with her. He was dressed in his usual attire which meant, for the venue, he needed a change. Luckily for Illyana she doesn't need to talk him into it, she just changes his clothes for him as they go through Limbo. Black leather pants, mesh shirt, leather jacket, chains and spikes and cuffs and boots heavy enough that people had best watch their feet.

Illyana's attire is lots of black leather too, but Conner's used to seeing her in it on occasion. Holding onto one of Connor's hands she drags him through the teeming masses towards the stage, shouting over the music and the crowd. "They're supposed to be really good!" All that golden blonde, even with the black leather, stands out in the crowd like a banner.

"What'd you do to me? I look like a tool!" Conner exclaims as he tugs at the mesh shirt. One leg lifts and then the other as he very unsophisticated like pulls at the crotch section of the pants. "No wonder these people all look so angry." The grip and jerk by Illyana has him following after as he presses his way through the crowd with the blond. Somewhere over yonder he did spot their new friend, Jeffrey.

"Good at what? Terrifying old people." Likewise the muscular youth stands out in his own awkward fashion, looking out of place and about like he is going to bite the next person who bumps in to him.

Flash forward twenty minutes, when Jeff has been comfortably established within the house with the switching of the guard. For Conner and Illyana, this _should_ cue the arrival of the buzzkill. Or it would have been, if Jeffrey were not quietly standing behind someone being just a little too handsy with a brunette who has made the mistake of separating from her pack. Apparently, it isn't the first time he has been counseled about his actions, because instead of making a beeline for the non-ID showing, non cover-charge paying individuals, he has to intercept Sir Handsalot. The brunette looks at Jeffrey with a bit of unease, but takes the unspoken invitation to put a gigantic wall between her and the creep. Jeffrey stands there like one of the Coldstream Guards, hands folded, looking down at the subject of his ire. "Son, this ain't the first time we've had to have this discussion is it? My partner told me you were making a nuisance of yourself to this young lady, and he came and warned you. Fact you can't listen for more than fifteen minutes tells me we gotta have a sterner conversation."

The fellow, head shaven, glasses wearing, just a bit pudgy, seems to make up for the failings God has given him with attitude. "Buzz off man, we're busy!"

Jeffrey laughs at that, shaking his head. It seems he is really trying to hold back the wrath of Soulful Asswhoopin', to any who actually know what to look for. "Now I asked you nice the first time, boy." Conner really doesn't needed to be offended. To guys like Jeffrey, anyone below 6'2 and any bit younger than him is 'boy'. "I didn't really come her to talk with you. I'm afraid I gotta ask you to leave." Which of course is when the irate patron swings. The mountain that is Jeff actually sighs as grabs thew wrist of the man, exerting the absolutely minimum amount of pressure to exert compliance. "Now, you want me to call the cops, or your momma?" He asks sternly, even as he pauses to escort the fellow out, dragging the mewling fellow by his barely more than lifeless wrist. On the way though, he manages to stop by Illyana and Conner. "Evening. Once I make sure this fella is taken care of, we are going to have a chat about why you folks didn't come through the door like you were supposed too. And then we can see about taking care of the cover charge." That friendly promise or revisitation delivered, Jeff goes to deliver his captive. Being security sucks, but its something Jeff knows how to do.

Sadly for Conner, Illyana finds his discomfort to be an endless source of amusement. Worse, she seems to have nominated him as her dancing partner. On the upside, he can get away with just kind of standing there and being a prop. On the downside, he's likely to get teased about it terribly when they're somewhere that conversations are more feasible and don't need either superlungs or superhearing to make out.

Dancing is one of Illyana's few 'hobbies' and Conner has likely learned this long ago. That and movies. She and Rose will hit the clubs fairly often, but tonight Rose is busy babysitting and so that's why Conner got volunteered. The blonde's up-close-and-personal is derailed through as Jeffrey shows up. She doesn't have that 'busted' expression, it's more a scowl. Clearly someone's trying to spoil her evening.

A prop is more or less what she gets when her dance partner is Conner. A very stoic one who is doing his best to filter out all the sound this place is catering to. "We had to pay to get in here and didn't? You're covering us both, Yana." The Super-clone chides loud enough to be heard over the roar of music and people around them. He never woulda known they required an entry fee if Jeffrey hadn't just narc'd. The mutant's scowl is enjoyable at least. Here and there does attempt to lift his arms and move a little, which comes out jerky looking and awkward. Still a work in progress and he's gotten rather used to being drug out to the club/dance scene by both the Limbo Queen and the Sword Mistress.

Jeffrey can't seem to get rid of his charge fast enough. Once he's sat somewhere and urged to sit tight (which incidentally means that the security staff is now one down...which really sits well with the short haired monolith, but its the job.) So, unfortunately, is catching portal hopping mutants and clones who sneak in. When he interrupts the two frolicking teens though, he happens to have a stamp handy. "I took care of the charge. In return you two help me keep an eye on this place. I'm going to guess neither of you is 21 though, so hand stamps all around." He's purely in stern worker mode, even as the music speaks of anarchy and doing sexually questionable acts to authority. The deputization may be questionable, but he's Jeff. The management seems to give him rather wide latitude as long as things don't go completely to hell. Once that bit of business is concluded, he grins. "Sorry about that. Its just a real good gig for me. Don't always like the music, but the pay is good and it'll work around my class schedule. Can't blow it even if I like you two."

Illyana eyes the handstamp and then Jeffrey with an 'are you serious?' sort of look. Followed by a sigh and a roll of her eyes. "You're making my life difficult." She tells him, annoyance clear in her tone. Great. Indimidating bartenders into serving her just got harder. That he covered them gets a bemused shake of her head though. "Paying wasn't the issue. I can *pay*." Which has her giving Kon a short glare because Spartan does *pay* them. It was the line and the handstamp she was avoiding. The last bit does get the poor mesh-shirt-wearing Conner an elbow as she leans in towards him. "He liiiiikes you." Then she gives a low, amused laugh.

"Who does?" Conner blinks and looks around then at Jeff, "Is he? Nah I swear..." Another blink and the young man stares at Jeff. "Sorry dude, I only like girls." Hopefully he did that right. He does offer out his hand for the stamp though. Would be Illyana's fault anyways if he conveys the wrong message for this horrible outfit he is wearing.

Jeffrey's just groans at what is quickly becoming a sass he attributes to the blonde. He then leans in, so they can hear him really good. "Look. We're down a man because of Jack the Idiot you just saw, and I trust you two more than I do most of the...patrons. I'm not asking you to break up fights or shoo out people having sex on the floor. I just need extra eyes." He almost said metal-fueled drunken ragebeasts, but he manages to suppress it with a grunt. "I need the help, you need me to not ask just how you got past me, because I know every inch of this place. So we'll just say I stamped you, but in the jostle of the crowd I forgot to collect your cover. Throw me a bone?" Yeah, he's making Illyana's life difficult. Jeffrey does like her, really he does. There is just the minor problem of him being on the clock. He then looks at Conner patiently even as he stamps his hand. "Pity. I always wanted a gay wingman. Would mean more chicks for me. Well, can't have everything."

Illyana makes a sound of annoyance. "Like anyone else would have noticed." Illyana never uses the door! Lines just aren't her thing. She makes shoo-ing motions with her hands and reaches out to draw Connor closer again so she can get back to dancing. "Fine, fine we'll watch. Someone's too much of a boyscout not to help out anyway." Or maybe Connor would just be siezing on any opportunity to escape dancing... Speaking of, "Just *relax*. Quit being selfconscious."

"I am relaxed and not paying is like stealing." Not that he pushes the subject more. Conner makes for the bad dancing he is doing after the request from Jeff, "So I can basically throw some of these people out? Because if you want me to do that I'd be more than happy to. Be more fun than dancing." His priorities seem just a bit skewered. Unsure really how he is supposed to be dancing he starts to copy one of the guys next to him. A hand on one of the blonds hips and his other hand waving in the air with devil horns. Sure, whatever, it works.

Jeffrey chuckles, though he does bring one fist down into his hand. "Great. Thats all I wanted. You two have a great night, and give a holler if anything happens." As Conner asks the question, he shakes his head. "No. You yell for me, I throw them out. If I need an extra set of hands though, well...I won't say if anything if 'concerned patrons' assist. Gentle though. Last thing we need is a brawl or the cops coming down hard on the Razor." Because the fuzz isn't already looking for an excuse to shut this place down. Because the fuzz isn't already looking for an excuse to shut this place down. As the blonde sets about dancing with such grave seriousness, he can't help but throw out: "Bit of advice, Illyana? Don't wear those shoes again next time you want to skip the line here. I can hear them a mile off." Maybe he's just making a jab. Who knows. She thinks he's weird anyway.

Then though, since he can't just be catty and let it be, he offers a tidbit. "By the way, if you want, stick around after closing. We do sort of a backstage encore for friends and guests of the staff. Most of the better bands stick around for it."

Illyana wraps an arm around Connor's shoulders, her dancing slowing a bit as she watches Connor work on trying to emulate the guy next to him and she's trying. So hard. Not to laugh. "Close your eyes." She advises him. "Just feel the music. C'mon. I'm sorry about the stealing." OK, she's really not. But she's trying to make him feel better. And get him to actually be more of a dancing partner and less of a dancing prop. Though it should be noted that her first and only boyfriend broke up with her for seeing her dancing with another guy. And Connor thought she ignored his personal space *then*? Jeff's words called back to them has her grinning at him, though it's as much a bearing of teeth as anything else. "And I'll still avoid the line, every time."

"I am relaxed and not paying is like stealing." Not that he pushes the subject more. Conner makes for the bad dancing he is doing after the request from Jeff, "So I can basically throw some of these people out? Because if you want me to do that I'd be more than happy to. Be more fun than dancing." His priorities seem just a bit skewered. Unsure really how he is supposed to be dancing he starts to copy one of the guys next to him. A hand on one of the blonds hips and his other hand waving in the air with devil horns. Sure, whatever, it works.

Jeffrey chuckles, though he does bring one fist down into his hand. "Great. Thats all I wanted. You two have a great night, and give a holler if anything happens." As Conner asks the question, he shakes his head. "No. You yell for me, I throw them out. If I need an extra set of hands though, well...I won't say if anything if 'concerned patrons' assist. Gentle though. Last thing we need is a brawl or the cops coming down hard on the Razor." Because the fuzz isn't already looking for an excuse to shut this place down. Because the fuzz isn't already looking for an excuse to shut this place down. As the blonde sets about dancing with such grave seriousness, he can't help but throw out: "Bit of advice, Illyana? Don't wear those shoes again next time you want to skip the line here. I can hear them a mile off." Maybe he's just making a jab. Who knows. She thinks he's weird anyway.

Then though, since he can't just be catty and let it be, he offers a tidbit. "By the way, if you want, stick around after closing. We do sort of a backstage encore for friends and guests of the staff. Most of the better bands stick around for it."

Illyana wraps an arm around Connor's shoulders, her dancing slowing a bit as she watches Connor work on trying to emulate the guy next to him and she's trying. So hard. Not to laugh. "Close your eyes." She advises him. "Just feel the music. C'mon. I'm sorry about the stealing." OK, she's really not. But she's trying to make him feel better. And get him to actually be more of a dancing partner and less of a dancing prop. Though it should be noted that her first and only boyfriend broke up with her for seeing her dancing with another guy. And Connor thought she ignored his personal space *then*? Jeff's words called back to them has her grinning at him, though it's as much a bearing of teeth as anything else. "And I'll still avoid the line, every time."

"He is checking out your shoes." More confusion from Conner but whether its faked or not and he is joking who can tell, surely not Jeff he just met the guy. The awkwardness of the dancing has him getting frustrated as he just stops and resumes being a post. "How do you feel this music?

Illyana turns to face Conner and has to go up on tiptoes, since he's a fair sight taller than her so the scan put her hands on either side of his head. At least she's got him to lean against to keep her balance as she does so. "Close your eyes. filter out the people and the noise. Find the beat. That's where you start. Just move with that." She works on verbally trying to coax him into tuning out the rest of the world, something she had to learn to do for magic and meditation so honestly it's something she can convey surprisingly well. It means that Conner's not keeping much of an eye on the club but ah well. Like Illyana really cares. And most nights the place behaves itself. The rest of the club thrashes and flails around them as they stand almost still. But Illyana can be patient and if she can keep Conner focused... well, he still might not manage patience but she'll try.

There is music, burried in the barrage of noise and loud vocals, surprisingly more complex than a lot of people thing, dismissing it immediately and by the end of the night, Connor's either managed to find it or he's got a raging headache. Either way, they stick around as the club closes up shop and with a pair of (bleh) sodas, the leather-clad pair has taken up a quiet table towards the back for the more mellow acoustical jam part of the night, which is when Jeff has the chance to join them. [New BB message (5/76) posted to Events by Job Tracker: Demonic Lamp] Theres a calm at this time. A sort of tranquil zen even as the musicians experiment. This is the stuff that doesn't suit everybody's tastes, but it is one of the reasons the Razor has already gained some integrity amongst the avant guard without being dismissed as a hipster hangout. Bands traditionally pigeonholed as death metal growles can sing something a bit smoother, the trashers can exchange their speed metal for something a bit more introspective. Add to this the general sense of contentment that comes from not trying to manage the whole floor and no longer tossing people out and Jeff is allowed to relax. The leather kids find a chair pulled up backwards, Jeffrey leaning over it with both arms to look both at them. "Sorry for being a jerk. Its just easier than the stuff I used to do, and all I have to do is make sure people follow the rules." He says with a somewhat sheepish laugh. "Figure I could at try to make it up to you for narcing this way."

After some time Conner actually begins to get in to the music though his dancing never improves, especially since he seems to be copying those around them who are equally terrible. Once things die down a bit and things can settle Conner stops dancing with Illyana. Meaning he is no longer kicking her in the shins or stomping all over her precious feet or those of party go-ers around them. A shrug is given to Jeff for his apology. It's clear it didn't phase the Krypto-kid, he'd honestly forgotten about it with all the excitement of the music and it's inspired madness. Plus hes young, there is a lot of good looking women, Illyana included who kept him distracted enough to keep him in good spirits despite his desire to not be here. That changed. The young man actually looks like he is enjoying himself now.

Luckily for Illyana those shoes of hers aren't just for show. They have steel toes, thank you very much and since Conner isn't trying to stomp through the floor he doesn't break her along the way. Whereas Connor's not very good at it, Illyana is. Movies are her other big hobby but this is how she cuts loose and relaxes and honestly there's not a lot of folks that can pace her. Now though she's in a sort of slouched sprawl as Jeff joins them. "You've got a honest streak in you a mile wide, don't you?" Illyana remarks in a drawl that's both amused and annoyed.

Its past closing time at Kali's Razor, and the neverending stream of metal has been replaced by the more experimental, the questioning, the sort of music that doesn't hit the top of the charts. Not bad, but definitely out of its players traditional repoirtoire. The staff and a handful of guests are scattered across various tables and booths in a significantly less aggressive lighting. Jeffrey is seated in a backwards chair, talking with Illyana and Conner whom have at this moment occupied a booth. The larger man chuckles as Conner seems, for the most part, to have forgotten that there was an onus at all. Illyana, however, might notice that there is a familiar look on his face, when he asked her about the difficulty. Something hard in there. "Still trying to go home, remember? Figure honesty is as good a place to start as any." tattooed fingers run across his jaw, as if aping deep thought. "You wanna know the real truth, I do what the job needs me to do. Tonight it was checking ID's, stamping hands, and throwing out morons. Job changes, I change." Oh, there is definitely a morality within him. A deep seated conviction in right and wrong. Still, the approach, the procedure...there are hints that that, if not now, then at previous points, was flexible.

Conner standing there listening to the two is suddenly turning around as his hand is gripped and a piece of paper is shoved in to it. The slender punk looking black and green haired girl grinning and whispering something in his ear before she trapses off.

Conner seems more confused than anything as stuffs the paper in to his pocket and looks back towards Illyana and Jeff, their conversation about morals and what the man is doing tonight only getting a hrmpf from the clone. "I need more soda and a dictionary."

"If you'd read more, then the big words wouldn't confuse you." Illyana tells Conner with a sacchirine smile. Looking back over to Jeff she tilts her head to the side a bit. "Makes a person wonder, just how much of your soul can be bought." She leans back and takes a long swallow of her drink, setting the glass aside. "Or has most of it been sold already."

Jeffrey looks over at Conner with nothing but understanding and male solidarity. Poor fellow seems to be picked on a lot by the blondes. Used as impromptu dance dummy, heavy lifting, assistant childcare. Maybe he needs a bit of fraternal support. "Yeah, I get it. Wasn't so good with words myself for a long time. Brain works a little different I guess." His eyebrows raise as he leans back, crossing tattooed sleeved arms across his chest. He looks like the sort that has still more to showcase if his fashion sense were a little closer to Conner's...tragic Stockholmed wardrobe. A veritable visual dictionary of questionable decisions and judgement calls that had no good answer. "Bought, paid for, or sold off, I'm getting it back, one way or another. Even if I gotta spend every last day of my god damn life making up for it."

Rose had been waiting DAYS to have a night out instead of moments here and there due to recovery or -need- to. She is really hopeing for a party despite the late hour it took for Peabody to come get Lian.

"He had me running some errands, there are things that need done.. He says..." "Can it, I stopped caring when he did.." "Rose your fa--" "I said, CAN IT!"

That is only part to the occurance before Rose offered Lian a ruffle of her hair and ushered her into the care of Peabody so she could head out, locking the door to her loft behind her.

"And where are you going like /that/?" He tosses out the inquiry to Rose's back.

"I don't know who you /think/ you are, but you aren't -him-." The final word dripped with malice as she took the stairs down, leaving Lian and Peabody to the elevator. The motorcycle ride was swift, taking her across town and to the location she had been texted, powering off the cell phone's GPS just as brakes and squealing rubber announced her slid-in parallel parking maneuver. Dropping keys into the pocket of her leather and maille plated jacket she ensures the straps to the duffel on the back of her bike are still locked with a tug, moving to the door of Kali's where she pulls it open to be stopped. "We're closed miss..."

Rose just pauses in her pace to search for the familiar faces of her teammates, heeled and booted feet coming to a clicking halt, just like their enamoured ride up legs to stop at mid-thigh, more of that maille topping the points to meld with the jacket. A cut off jean skirt bearing leather laces up the sides that meld into the top that covers in mesh and twining lacework to cover what should be in x's and o's.

"I was invited.." Rose states, tossing a hand in the direction of Illyana, Jeffrey, and Conner. "Please tell me there's still drinks for the after---" Pausing as a man passes, tatto'd in a tank top and howing it just as much as Jeffrey passes by, cold blue gaze following. "Why haven't I heard of this place before?"

"I read just fine I just don't think what she said was appropriate so I want to look it up." Conner retorts to Illyana. "Rose is here." He says before the woman makes it in to visible range. Jeff on the other hand is just looked at while he speaks, no hard stare or anything just that listening. I have nothing to say sort of gaze. He's used to not talking while the others can go on and on.

"Good luck with that." Illyana says, not sounding like she thinks that Jeff's gonna have much luck. When Connor announces Rose's arrival she doesn't bother to be surprised given that she can't see the other woman. Instead she just stands up, a hand on Conner's shoulder helping her get to her feet and also letting him know he can stay sitting. "I'll go get her before she decks someone." Because if anyone is more prone to casual violence than her? It'd be Rose. She heads for the front door so she can bring Rose on back to their table.

Jeffrey stands up, following Illyana. He's quick enough to catch the tail end of Rose's query. Mostly, he'll let Illyana handle any mediation. But if she /does/ deck someone, well, thats why Jeff is gainfully employed. Or so, thats the logic of those who signs his checks. "Miss Rose. Nice to see ya again, welcome to Kali's Razor. Its a soft opening, and management wanted to keep it casual until things got settled." Well, as settled as it can be considering the clientele and their tastes. "Its cool Damien, she's with me." Of course thats his name. Rose is ushered in though with all possible speed and invited towards their table. Heaven forbid management suspect he is abusing his privileges. At the sight of Illyana, Rose just breaks a smile, one that is fleeting but enough to show the expression of welcome and dimple the edges of that stitched gash on her cheek. Pausing at the sight of Jeff she blinks at him slowly and the withered smile just lingers somewhere between a greeting and neutrality as she scans him from toe to head and then casts an inquiring gaze towards Illyana with a small jump in one brow. No needed added smirk for effect, the innuendo is obvious. Looking back to Jeff nd offering 'Damien' a finger wiggling wave she commences her stroll on abck towards the table. "Drinks? Not -just- juice, please. I'll pay, I swear.. Just call me Rose." She states, something about the added 'Miss' tossed her way from every direction making her wrinkle her nose in slight distaste.

"I'm supposed to be the one that can't show up on time." Illyana notes to Rose as the other woman shows up, sliding an arm around Rose's waist to help steer her through the tables to where Conner is currently sitting alone. "Jeffy here won't let me drink." She shares, flashing the hand-stamp that Jeff put on both her and Conner. "So I hope you brought your ID." Illyana gets the full force of an amused grin. "Wrong. I wouldn't let you drink while I was /on the clock/ during /business hours/. That little old stamp was just a legal precaution. Right now? Couldn't give a shit what you drink." He says, taking care to enunciate certain things, rolling his shoulders back as he takes his seat. He does however signal the bartender and a container of ice and a few more blood alcohol compromising options are placed before their little social group. "Owner and me go way back, owes me a couple favors. Nephew got mixed up with the wrong people, I cleared it up." He then pauses, passing each of them a glass. "Help yourselves. We got everything from Jim Beam to Lucid to everything in between. All I ask is that you try to drink responsibly." "I had a little.." Rose states even lowering one hand down to measure out Lian's small height. "..hangup, so I traded places for the night with you. At least one of us can cover it." The arm around her waist accepted and reciprocated with an arm resting over the span of Illyana's shoulders in the embraced walk. Glancing down at the stamp Rose's brows furrow and she tsk's, casting a sidelong glance towards Jeffy. "Party pooper. But of course I brought my I.D." She states as she digs in the inner coat pocket and flicks it out betwixt fingers to Jeff, only to have him speak up in regards to rescinding that offer after legal close time. That's illegal! And Rose doesn't care. A hip is nudged into Illyana lightly as she tucks her I.D. away and is already taking up a glass, filling it with rum and -maybe- three ice cubes. "Conner." She states, glancing his way and then back to the group curiously. "You came here willing, or as a willing victim?" Smirking she takes a nice long drink from the glass.

"No alcohol for Rose." Conner says abruptly, looking away from his cell phone screen. His thumb moving over the touch display. He's gotten good at this. "And I came here on my own... I didn't dress like this on my own though." A customary glare afforded to Illyana. The mesh shirt he is wearing and black leather pants really doesn't look like anything Superboy has in his wardrobe. He has bad taste as well but its a different sort of bad.

Illyana's brows go up, amused as Jeff makes the switch from paid employee to 'I don't give a crap'. Illyana's drink of choice? Vodka. Straight up. "I'm Russian. I could drink you under the table." Illyana boasts to the much, MUCH larger man, giving him a toothy grin. "I was trying to teach him how to dance. I think it'd be easier if he'd quit trying to copy the really awful folks around with us." Reaching out as Conner says no alcohol for Rose, she takes Rose's glass and passes it over to Conner. She's trusting in Rose's love for her, because otherwise that's a killin' offense right there.

Jeffrey's laugh is deep and rumbling as Rose signs her poco problema. "Try dealing with six of them. Momma had me watching my cousins since I was 10. Thought a Y chromosome didn't excuse me from knowing the business end of the child from the one that talked." Candid, isn't he? He pours himself a glass of whiskey, with a splash of water in it. "Nah. I ain't one to drink for quantity. Want to actually enjoy my inebriation." He waxes philosophically even as he watches the attempt at 'keeptheglassway' from Rose. Knuckles crack as he knocks his own drink back. 'Damien' appears for a few seconds to pass him a note, which causes Jeffrey to grumble audibly. "They'll call back. Just pass the phone to me, and if I start yelling in languages you don't understand, I won't be coming into work this weekend." Damien nods, disappearing almost as quickly as he appeared. Quite quick that one. He then turns back, pouring himself another shot. "You want to dance, you shoulda just asked me. Gotta say I'm more a tango or a salsa kinda guy, buy I guess I can do a bit of bump and grind." One sip, she got a taste right after the one glance to Connor, the one glance that turned into a double look to be sure she saw that right?!? And heard right?? Just before her glass was snared...

...Swallowing those eyes swept over Connor and a small smirk curls one corner of her lips, a single brow taking a fucking hike on her forehead. "You came on your own, and dressed yourself?" All of this said with that 'rriiigghhhttt' tone to her voice. "Drink up then party animal, but let me have a night without someone trying to be my dad, hm?" Nope, Illyana gets off scott free, but there is still a spare glass that -was- for Conner she now claims and fills with Vodka instead. "I'll take the wager on drinking you under the table, and you tried to get Conner to dance? Or Jeff-y here?" Glass taken and quickly downed. Alcohol really does nothing to him so it's better than being wasted by dumping it on the floor. Not to mention it makes him look good to the people outside this circle who don't know him. Setting the empty cup aside he reclines back in to his seat, "Seriously it's a mistake to let her drink. Shes going to get crazy and we'll have to run from cops." A rueful sigh escapes him and he resumes staring at his cell phone, typing away at something on it with his thumbs. His brow and chin jutting out

"You do, huh?" Illyana says, giving Jeffrey an appraising look. It's hard to find a guy that can dance. Harder still to find one that can keep up with her. This is why Rose is usually Illyana's victim of choice and once those two are on the floor dancing together? A lot of the guys forget they know how. The blonde reaches out for Rose's glass again, chiding her in Russian. << Look, he's already pouting. Try unwinding without some alcoholic assistance tonight. >> Turning her attention back over to Jeffrey she gestures towards him with her glass. "Careful. I'll take you up on that sometime."

Jeffrey knocks back another shot. With his mass, its going to take a while. "Spent a summer in Argentina. Bit more classical than what you saw tonight, but I can improvise. Picked it up with a few other tricks. Was a bit hard to find my rhythm here at first, but eventually you realize the music may change, but the fundamental beats are the same." He looks at her appraisingly, as if already checking her aerodynamics and how her form complies with the laws of motion. His gaze is unflinching even as Conner warns of what happens when Rose overpartakes. Then his gaze turns from Illyana to Rose, and his smile grows still wider, his eyes narrowing slightly as muscles tense just enough to bring them to wakefulness. "Crazy, huh? Been a while since I danced crazy." Ah, dancing makes such a wonderful euphemism for other things, and not just the sexual. "Almost makes me wanna see if I still got it. Not here, though. These folks been good to me."

Rose has the glass snared from her again, and this time the jesting acceptance of a smile fades like a flame in a hurricane, followed the slight darkening glare that snaps from her glass to Illyana and then to Conner with a firm set of her jaw that has the small muscles fluxing with the pressure. Though it took a moment, what Illyana said registered as she spoke back as well, peering over to her around the veil of white hair that lapped over her shoulder in a cascade. <<"Pouting about what? He looks good, he's out with friends.. So tired of drinking on my own..">> Now it was her turn to sulk for a moment, sliding off the leather jacket to toss it over Conner and into the booth, gripping his cell from his hands if he doesn't Krypto-clench it and tossing it aside. "You have all day for that. I don't drink, you dance with us." Yep, she did, she just signed everyone up.

"Hey!" Conner barks at Rose as he reaches for his phone to no avail. "I already danced. Quota for the year filled." His shoulders drop back in to his seat and he looks at Jeff. "He said he likes to dance, take him. Not sure why you two are so insistant." (re)

Considering that both Conner and Illyana look like they're in their late teens, they don't have much of the 'party animal' vibe to them, do they? Jeff's slow appraisal gets a lifted brow from Illyana and the weight of those icy blue eyes again. Now that Rose has moved over to confront Connor, she doesn't bother to look over at what is likely to be an argument in the making. Instead she just pours herself some more vodka. "So you're gonna buy back your soul bouncing, huh?"

Jeffrey too decides that its the better part of valor to avoid the brewing storm. Also, perhaps its a good thing that his idiom choice was not understood. "Sure, why not. Cut a rug with a pretty girl, keep a few kids looking to be wild away from anything truly dangerous, go to school. Seems a good enough way to live a decent, normal life." Well, it is a nice thought at any rate. As phone and jacket are tossed, he decides he has better things to do. Like pour himself another drink. "Besides, it turned out to be useful for a lot of things. Dance is following a beat, sure, but its also reading the person you are paired with. Leading, responding, interpreting cues. Learned as much from my tango instructor as I did anyone who taught me how to fight." Glancing to Illyana and Jeff once more as Conner decides to do the usual and be the party-pooper himself, one shoulder rises and falls in a shrug, followed by a small smirk as their exchange of 'looks' is caught. Illyana's, -I'll make you roadkill.- and Jeff's -I eat at the Roadkill Cafe.- Rose would gladly take Illyana and go clear the dancefloor of the ridiculous hop-n-bump going on right now but it seems like too cute of a moment, even discussing the bartering of a soul. This she had to hear. So with attention duly split she turns back to Conner and leans down over the table in front of the boot he is in, hands pressing down on it with splayed fingers, a large shark-like grin birthing. "Not with me, and I don't think I am his partner of choice," she says, one brow rising to cast a quick glance towards Illyana. "I don't drink, your ass dances, or you can sit here, have your phone back, and stay out of my night." Despite the smile those words were pretty clear. She did not want to be imposing, and if she had to be alone, she was at least going to enjoy herself.

Sighing Conner stands up, "Fine fine. If it keeps you from drinking." His hand takes hers and he motions out towards where all the other Kali's Razor-goers are undulating like electrocuted eels on the dance floor.

Illyana smirks as Conner gets up, not making a sound and certainly not looking over as the tall boy stands in all that leather and mesh, spikes and chains. Only after the pair of them pass Illyana by does her Arctic gaze follow them. She doesn't say a damned word though, because Superboy tends to be rather tuned in to his teammates voices. She could probably yell for him across the city and he might actually pick her out of the crowd. Finally, her attention goes back over to Jeff, that brow arching again. "You're odd, you know that?" Probably not the first time he's heard it. "And no. Playing normal isn't gonna get the blood off your hands. The stain outta your soul. Not even close." That said, she knocks back what's left in her glass and sets it back down with careful deliberation.

Illyana is a fascinating creature, even if a lot of people seem to mistake Jeff's interest for some kind of self-destructive attraction. Maybe it is the latter at that, but if it is, Jeff doesn't know it yet. Definite, certain outcomes tend to be his stock and trade. The Russian is anything but, but...yeah. Sure, why not. He's not from the Roadkill South, but she just might be worth a risk. He hollers over to Rose. "Relax Conner, I'll save you in a song or two." He promises, even as he looks at Illyana once again. Roadkill eating indeed, for whatever reason.

Then, he makes a decision. He intercepts the glass and throws it against the wall, shattering it. Theres a downright predatory, primal amusement as he meets her gaze. His hand moves faster than anything that size, dragging her to her feet and on to the floor, just in time for a song change. Something fast, but with a reliable beat....except for the occasional syncopation that would no doubt play hell with Conner's valiant attempts to dance. He leans in just a bit as one hand takes hers, the other holding on to her waist. He bends a bit but remains good posture, form adjusts for their differences in height as he takes her by the hand, twirling her and spinning her out before pulling her back in and dipping her, making her almost entirely reliant on his strong frame for balance as his feet move forward and back in a six count, expecting her to pick up on it, to follow along as they suddenly switch direction. "Then lets not pretend. You show me whats under the hood, I don't hold back. The place should be still standing if its just a dance, right?" He says, perhaps even growls into her ear. Okay, so its a bit more classical than most of the undulating bodies, but it still keeps the pace beautifully. It also just looks /classy/, even if it has the same ferocity as some of the other, more primal expressions of human movement. "Hold on, its gonna be a hell of a ride."

"Uh thanks, Jeff." Conner says before turning back to Rose and resuming said dance from earlier. Devil horns with head bob and bump and grindith upon in a very metal fashion! He stops abruptly and half spins with a fist raised as glass shatters only to see Jeff whisking Illyana up and in to the mob of dancing with some outlandish flourishing moves. Unaware this is probably out of place and a little too flashy for the music going on he seems impressed none the less. Not any Kon will be attempting to mimic just yet. He'll resume the newly learned and patented Devil Grind.

The quick, agressive motion briefly as Illyana tensing but it's equally clear it's not the prelude to an attack. Instead blue eyes narrow assessingly as Jeffrey grabs for her in a very forward manner, pulling her after Conner and Rose towards the dance floor.

Jeff probably caught sight of Illyana earlier, but she was rather busy trying to get Conner to loosen up and dance. As he spins her out she pushes that tension away and despite the heavy-soled bootes with all those buckles she manages to let Jeff move her about with a certain lightness on her feet. Icy eyes narrow to slits as he makes his challenge and when her lips peel back it's more a bearing of teeth than a smile. No words in response. She'll just dance.

While her choice of music is obviously metal, it will quickly become clear that the hard driving music isn't the only thing that she can dance to, or that she knows the moves to. With a background in everything from ballroom to ballet, jazz to hip hop, Illyana will take Jeff up on that challenge.

Lets not kid ourselves. Jeff is a big guy. He has to plot his moves, or know them in advance, but when he does, he moves with a grace and finesse that would put more classically built individuals to shame. It also helps when you have had enough time to deal with the fact he has a foot on what is termed a woman of average height. Forward forward, back back, back back, forward forward. Its a simple enough step, but it shifts with the occasional change of direction, a twirl or an outward spin of the blonde, but always brought back. This is punctuated by a particularly low dip, his face inches from hers, the pull up languidly slow. Her return to her own feet dragged out for what seems like eternity. Almost as if they are stuck in some kind of bubble, the music made to conform to /their/ cadence, and not the other way around. He's never looked down once, maintaining eye contact with his partner the whole time. Most of the other dancers around them have the appearance of giving Jeffrey all the space he needs, or maybe he's just...extremely aware of where everyones footfalls are in time and space. Conner's Devil Grind does get a glance, looking down at Illyana. "Metal enough? I could throw in some devil horns if you wanted?" He clearly wants to do the Devil Grind, even if it those who tried to teach him 'nice' dances would roll over in their grave: to make apologies to these long dead he tries something on the complex side, lifts Illyana seamlessly into one a classical 'princess carry', only to pass her behind and around him before setting her down and resuming more classic footwork. The truly impressive part is that he manages this while keeping his hands in places that women usually don't slap for.

Rose assumed he would retrieve his phone and call it a night, Rose assumed she had won and she could get innebriated, spend the night doing things the morning wouldn't recall. Rose was sorely mistaken and when Conner got up grabbing her hand and leading her out she opened her mouth to say 'I was just pushing buttons' until Conner began his dance. As ungraceful as a white boy could be, the bumping Devil Grind on her caught her by surprise, and as she watched Illyana and Jeff pass in their Disney waltz glory where Cinderella's Boots squished the mice... Rose just laughed. One hand clapped over her face as she stood in front of the large Superboy in his angsty dress and dance, her form jolting with his random hop-bumps and hand thrusting grinds. After a moment of regaining, and removing her palm from her reddened face Rose leans back and places an arm over his that had rested around her waist, feeling for his random rhythm and joined him.

In contrast to the dance Illyana and Jeffrey were pulling off the highly coordinated and physically adept Rose manages to look like the total legendary dancer Kon is right now. The aptly named Devil Grind continues but Conner mixes it up; he somehow manages to change his hand horns from one to the other and back again. Actually picking up a left to right Thriller like sequence with the rotating left to right hand horns and even jutting out of the tongue to headbang with epic grinding. Nailed it.

In contrast to the dance Illyana and Jeffrey were pulling off the highly coordinated and physically adept Rose manages to look like the total legendary dancer that Kon is right now. The aptly named Devil Grind continues but Conner mixes it up; he somehow manages to change his hand horns from one to the other and back again. Actually picking up a left to right Thriller like sequence with the rotating hand horns and even jutting out of the tongue to headbang with epic grinding. Nailed it.(re) One of Illyana's saving graces here is that she's used to being around, and even dancing with, a big guy. Jeff's got a few inches on her brother but only a few and the Rasputin sibs do enjoy hitting the clubs together. Finding guys that will dance can be such a bother that sometimes Illyana pulls Piotr out onto the floor with her.

Jeffrey and Illyana's dancing is almost a challenge, one to the other. Who can keep up. Who can hold the beat while upping the ante. The crowd is sort of split, between watching the pair on one hand and the hilarity that is Conner on the other. There's a certain respect that must be paid, however, to someone willing to be *that bad* on the dance floor and sort of own it like Con's doing.

As Jeff puts Illyana into something of a dip, one of her feet on the floor, the other leg hooked around the back of his knee and completely reliant on him to keep her from falling and asks his questions the blonde chuckles. She doesn't really get a chance to answer before he's lifting her and moving her around him. As she regains her footing she conceeds, "Alright. You can dance." Though the admission carries her usual sarcasm.

That wasn't so hard, was it? Jeffrey gives just a single heavy breath, working the kinks out. There is no fatigue, just the working out of muscle memory that has become just a touch rusty. Still, he has managed well enough thus far even with the handicap of not having a partner in a long time. He pulls her close before they may pick up, taking the opportunity to lean in, to whisper in her ear. <> In probably the choppiest and most speedily learned bit of Russian she has ever heard. Still in that quiet voice, he explains it away. "No, I don't speak. I just wanted to learn this one thing, in case the opportunity presented itself." Because what properly raised southern boy doesn't prepare for the moment he is called upon to take a girl dancing? He then covers that moment of non-dance covered closeness with a slower two step, allowing her to have more say if she wishes to change style or perhaps be released. Jeff's in no hurry. Ride isn't over, the way he reckons. Rose is not used to this kind of dancing, though normally when out on the dance floor it is under the influence. Of what, the possibilities were endless. This is the first time in a long time she bothered to do such a thing sober, even such a thing as this...dance that Conner had pulled her into - at her behest. She asked for it, she got it and so Rose just remains with the oddness that is netting and leather bound Conner, her own mesh and leather laced figure in place awkwardly and yet she manages to keep herself from being bumped and ground onto the floor in a sprawl or looking like she was riding one of those carnival rides that jolts you up and down a few times before finally dropping you the full plummet. Keeping in pace was the biggest issue, heeled boots stepping over oddly and randomly placed big booted feet in every hop that has her raising her hand as well and forming those horns, sans tongue though with the way her head rolled in a bit more languid of a headbang, swirling the mass of white hair in a circling arch around - she'd have gotten a mouthful. Though behind that huge wave of white she is actually laughing.. Kodak moment boys and girls, better frame it and preserve it for history.

As if he becomes aware of himself Conner suddenly slows down and rests his hands upon Rose's hips. His blue eyes shifting around them to see if anyone else had been watching too much but most haven't and Jeff looks like his face is buried in Yana's neck whispering something. Kind of funny really to see him stooped over like that over the slight blonde. Looking back down at Rose he lazily begins to move in a fashion that doesn't endanger her from shaking and being bump jolted out of her skin.

"I met Ms.Marvel. Was trying to tell you guys that. She helped me fight a lobster man mutant... kind of funny really." His voice low enough only Rose would hear him. He wanted to tell more than just her but they haven't really been out of earshot of the new guy who by all appearances to Kon was just a normal dude.

Illyana's brows arch upwards as Jeffrey speaks her mother tongue, even if it is choppy. Looks like he's managed to surprise her twice tonight. "You knew I spoke Russian?" Instead of looking impressed she looks... suspicious. It wasn't exactly a very generic phrase. She wasn't planning on running into him here. Her English is without any real accent, which doesn't give a clue until tonight when she spoke to Rose. After her incident with finding out she had a stalker in her dorm she's rather understandably paranoid and as Jeff slows the dance she pulls away and puts a few steps between them. Most girls should be impressied, maybe a little swoony over the sappiness. But of course, not our Illyana.

The course of true love...or whatever the hell it is or isn't, never did run smoothly. Jeffrey lets her maintain her distance as he lets his hands rest in his pockets. Looks like maybe his game of lets pretend just hit another sizable snag. "Educated guess. Your name comes from a number of places, but given your specific features, the most likely choices were Russia or a traditionally Slavic country, in which cases the likelihood of you speaking Russian or having an understanding of the language were high. I also may have asked if anyone knew anything about you because I keep running into you, because most folks seem to think I'll break their face soon as look at them." He takes a breath, pauses, looks back at her again. The whole 'fell off the tomato' truck bit is gone, replaced by no less honest but a far deeper level of intelligence. "I saw tonight we have a common skill, so I asked one of my coworkers who speaks the language how to compliment you if I got the chance. You told me you did not value compliments about your looks, so I thought maybe I should try saying something nice about something you have obviously worked hard on." He looks over to where Connor and Rose move, and he takes a step back. "Like I said, you don't know my road, and I don't know yours. I can only imagine what happened to make you so suspicious of any attempt of a person to be nice to you, but I assure you thats all it is."

Its at this precise moment 'Damien' appears, handing Jeffrey the phone, miming the words 'they called back'. Jeffrey sighs, looks at Illyana, holds up his finger in the hopes she'll take it as a gesture to wait. "Moshi Moshi." He says, turning his back on Illyana. A dangerous thing to do, but maybe she needs to not be the center of attention for a while. If Russian surprised Illyana, the fact the big southerner is now speaking flawless but increasingly agitated Japanese might be just another red flag in the 'is this person normal?' It concludes though with something very peculiar in English. "No, you listen to me. I told you I'm done with that kind of thing. If you want my services, you pay double the going rate, and you wait until _after_ I get all my affairs squared away here. Otherwise Amaterasu-sama can find her own damn mirror this time." He snaps the phone, hands it off to Damien, before turning back to Illyana. "Where were we?" He says, hands now hanging loosely at his sides. "Right. Apologizing for making you nervous. I'm...extraordinarily bad at this. Uh...can we pretend that phone call never happened?" Asking Illyana for mercy or compassion is probably a moronic thing to do, but Jeff is running out of non heavy ordnance relatd options.

Rose stops when Conner does, still laughing lightly enough that all it did was maintain a small smile while she wiped her hair out of her face and combed her fingers through the massive wavy mess she had made of it. Glancing up at Conner, Rose shakes her head, casting a glance over towards Illyana and Jeff int time to see something appearing intimate - this time. "You look as if you care what people think. When you dance, you're not supposed to, thats the point." When Conner speaks of Ms. Marvel she cranes her neck back and around to look almost incredulously at him. "You guys have it for dinner after? Sounds romantic." A slight returning jump to the jabbing smile and then it fades again. "What did it want?" She finally inquires outright, no prodding at Conner this time around but when she looks back at Illyana the tides of ease had seemingly turned, as well as what was the local language while Jeffrey was on the phone. Slowly that sway between herself and Conner began to come to a near still, one brow raising as she goes from Jeff's conversation to Illy. It blatantly stated 'say the word' and Rose would likely burrow a stilletto into Jeff's foot amongst other things and different places - if she could.

"Nah, tied him up for the police. He spoke, his name was Jimbo and I think that would make it cannibalism of some sort. Besides just ick. He just wanted to fight someone. So I duked it out with him for a bit then Ms.Marvel showed up and we put him down. I think I was supposed to do something tonight and I forgot what it was." Conner frowns, intentionally skipping over her comments about the dancing. His new dance was awesome. He has no idea what she is talking about.

"Yeah, like that's gonna happen." Illyana says blandly of the conversation, and her expression has settled into that agressie sort scowl that seems more at home on her face than any real smile. Her blue gaze flicks over to Rose, seeing the other woman's willingness to back her up but just shakes her head ever so slightly. She's alright. She can handle the big guy. "I thought my social skills were kinda crap but you've got me beat all to hell. Congratulations, I think." Not the prize you wanna be winning. Her head cants over to the side a bit. "I'm not sure if you're trying to impress me or you're just like completely off your rocker." Mythology is something Illyana's fairly familiar with. "Planning to barter away what's left of your soul at a premium price?"

If Illyana had this then Rose is going to give her room, it is what she would as for so she gives the same respect. One hand lowers to press fingers into one of Conner's hands that rested at her hips and get his attention as she wandered back to the booth and grabbed her jacket, also handing Conner back his phone that had been tossed with it. "Then you lobster man is solved, you met a pretty popular hero, and maybe your phone will answer what you were supposed to be doing." She states as she slides her jacket on hand pulls the kes from her pocket, heading for the door. "I have to go." She says, her voice lowering some as she eyes the time her phone says shoving it away into her pocket as she offers Jeff a look, Illyana a brief and slow nod as if offering one more time and Conner a brief smile. "Thanks guys."

Jeff steps back once more. One foot slipping behind the other, a tilt of his body to grant the least possible surface area to an oncoming attack. Not that it matters, he's a god damned mountain (exactly what it says on the tin). Still, his hands are completely open, palm out, showing his hand, to state the obvious. He won't initiate any violence tonight, though he keeps an eye on Rose on the periphery. "Yeah well, I don't exactly plan for the night to go this way. I _almost_ had things figured before you showed up." Its not even a statement of anger, just an acknowledgement. Upon taking his first tentative steps back into normal society, something or someone drags him back, partly due to happenstance, partly due to his own nature. His plan had been to try to go back to that home she had said he would never find, but it just seems to be easier to step back into conflict, to those who know it well. The club seems to have cleared out for the large part except for them. Maybe they've appointed Jeff for cleaning duty, maybe they just don't want to be here for whatever madness may occur. Anyone who would make Jeff hesitate about using force has to be someone not to screw with. "Its not barter, let alone for my soul." He pauses, lets the hammer fall on his attempt at normality. "I killed a God a couple years back. I didn't get turned into an opossum or anything because the bastard brought it on himself, but in return I have to do jobs for them. They just now actually decided it might be decent of them to pay me for it." Oh hell, may as well go in all the way. "I guess, I dunno, I was a bit enthusiastic about having friends that I suspect are like me. Similar experiences maybe, even if they don't got some kinda 'knacks'. Guess I screwed up."

Illyana gives Rose the tip of her head to assure the Ravager that she'll be OK. She's not expecting any real trouble. Worse comes to worse she'll duck out. She just can't help poking the guy. Rose slides out with Conner at her side and the rest of the club is pretty much empty. It makes the silence a nearly palpable thing and so there's no missing any of Jeffrey's story. Illyana's brows rise upwards again slowly. "You killed a god." She says, not really sounding like she believes him. "Wow. You really go for broke to try to impress a gal, huh?"

Jeff actually has the gall to chuckle a bit, once they are left alone. "No, the dancing may have been trying to impress you, just a bit. The Russian was hit or miss. Killing the small g god? Thats something thats kinda got me screwed. Now my chit is passed around by any pantheon with busywork that needs doing. Amaterasu, the Kotoamatsukami matriarch, really seems to love giving me the tough ones. Between that and the last five years of increasingly questionable 'jobs' on the non-divine front? Can't blame me for trying to get a fresh start. Screwed that up though, huh. Guess it might be best to go with full disclosure. Want another drink?" He says, helping himself to another shot of bourbon. He takes a seat, leaning back as he lets the ice fall clink against the glass. Illyana seems to debate that offer, but finally she moves over to retake her seat and pours herself another vodka. Of course she has to use one of the other glasses, as Jeff went and smashed hers. "You strike me as having been desperately lonely." She notes, lifting the glass with her fingertips and swirling the clear liquid a bit. "Secrets, eating at you. And then you recognize something of yourself in others." Jeffrey looks into his glass for a lengthy second before knocking it back, setting it down. "When I think about it, I only stopped being what I was because my grandma died. We weren't close, but she always said what the right thing was. That you had to claw your way to forgiveness. So I tried to be normal. I was doing okay. Getting accepted to school, finding a job with these folks who I had actually done some good for in my past career." He then chuckles, looking over at Illyana. There is a sardonic edge to his usually jovial smile. "Then I met you, and I realized I can't just turn off the monster. Got to either put it to something useful, or I won't even be able to claw my way to something resembling redemption."

"I'm absolutely amazing at being a buzzkill." Illyana admits with a hitch of her shoulder. Despite the soul-bearing, she doesn't get into a deep and philosophical discussion. Instead she says, "Tell me how you killed a god." Because gods? They're hard to kill. And no normal person manages that kind of feat on their own. Yeah, they already have enough of those. Besides, procedure, technicality. Jeff can take care of that. "Nah, not a buzzkill. I probably would have done something stupid if I hadn't. And besides, you're pretty _and_ an exceptional dancer. Hows that any kind of buzzkill?" He asks with a relaxing of the smile. He holds the empty glass, before he chuckles. He slips off the barstool, removing his jacket and tossing off his shirt. His method of shifting is a bit 'messier' than her brothers, and he only has so many shirts to go around. "I don't know the best way to explain this without a whole lotta physics, but short answer, I'm a mutant. Watch the ground." Is what he says. His fist relaxes, clenches, relaxes...and then the floor beneath him....turns into a syrupy kind of mush that glides up his body. Spikes and spines line his body, but his skin acquires a tone and texture of the ground beneath him before it hardens, solidifies, segments like armor. Its almost as if his body has been reforged to be like one of the Terracotta soldiers of Shihuangdi. Except its a lot goddamn harder. "Terrakinesis. I took this form to take him head on, then..." The empty dance floor seems to shift, the very ground lifting as he exerts his will upon it. Eventually, it has the look of a series of jagged hills. "I dammed up his river as it was trying to flood its banks. Then I just kept hitting him until he stopped moving." The explanation succinct even if the display is not. The dance floor is remolded back into its original shape and in seconds, Jeffrey is back to flesh and blood, redressing just as quickly. "So yeah. Thats how I killed a god. He started it, but thats not how gods think of such things, as you no doubt know."

There's no wide eyes, or gasp of surprise. But then he didn't really expect that from the blonde with eyes far too old for her face, did he? The undressing only got a lifted brow and with patience she watches. And listens. It's as he finishes his display, his flesh returning to normal that she stands up. Someone with boots as heavy as hers should tromp. They should drag. They should be a hell of a lot more clumsy than Illyana is. "Stop." She tells him as his hand closes around the shirt, moving behind him and he feels the ghost-light touch of her fingertips against his skin. "Did you make up the name yourself?" If he tries to turn towards her, another light touch against his shoulder 'suggests' he stay as he is. Facing forward.

When she's closer, she can see that there is more ink. Norse runes by the look of them. A burning eye. His skin is scarred and tanned from battle and time in the sun. The armor protects, it does not seem to care for cosmetics. "No. Thats what the technique is called, when you can move and sculpt the earth at your whim. It was not the name I used. They called me 'Siege.' It seemed appropriate, so I let it stick," He says, a breath causing rippling muscle to move beneath the touch of her fingers. Illyana chuckles, and he can feel her trace the lines of ink along his back. "Did you find that in a book?" Yeah, she's amused. It's not the kind of book that she reads, but the idea is amusing. That there's a dictionary of mutant powers somewhere. Her touch gets to his shoulderblade, and he knows from the height difference that she's having to reach. The weight of her hand closes over his shoulder then and he feels pressure. Not enough to force him down but the weight of her voice might. "Down."

Jeffrey exhales again. So close that each movement between them is transmitted in totality. "Nah. Heard it from a scientist whose family I was watching for a month down in Ecuador. Seemed terribly excited about the whole thing." There really isn't a submissive bone in his body, but then, there interaction has been anything but ordinary thus far. So down he goes. "What did you have in mind?" He asks, even as he grants her request/order.

Illyana is still at his back, out of his sight. As he settles down, putting him in much easier reach for her the blonde's touch moves across the line of his shoulder, the pad of her thumb smoothing over the nape of his neck. Compared to him she's a tiny thing, and certainly couldn't have forced him to bow to her will. But neither did she really make it out to be a request. Just like when she used him for an elevator, there's that sense she's used to being obeyed and maybe his previous acquiesence is what has her taking such liberties now. "I wanted a better look at you." Why though, isn't entirely clear. Finally, her touch falls away and even though he might wait it doesn't return. "It's something you don't forget. Killing someone with your bare hands, close enough you can feel their breath." There's the soft sound of her boot against the floor and his earth sense can easily track her taking that step back from him. What happens after that might give him a headache though. He can see the brief flare of light reflecting against the wall in front of him as she opens a stepping disk at her feet, that hole into another dimension. No words of goodbye or something that would give the moment closure, the disk moves upwards. In its wake it leaves... nothing and after swallowing her entirely it winks out, as if it never was and Jeffrey is left alone. On his knees.