O Nostalgia (open)

[mordekai]

It was such a foreign feeling, having her arms free and unbound.
Here she was, leaning against the faded window pane of the Elefang pub, watching through slightly greasy glass as the sun slowly sank away behind the quaint structures that lined Bourbon Street.
The night was swiftly approaching, and she wasn't sure she wanted to be around to see it, alone.

Imagine that, a mink nervous of a little darkness.

Shivering ,Mort walks out the door and slowly descends the spiral stairs, rubbing her hands up and down bare arms as she reaches the large wooden doors that would lead into the Elefang Speakeasy.
She leans close to the small latch and whispers the password which she never forgot even after all these years, letting whoever was guarding the entrance that night know that the Mink wanted in.

Through a hallway, down another flight of steps and she was finally in...
Looked like the guests hadn't come in yet.
The band had yet to set up on stage.
Still, it gave her time to just relax, and reminisce.
Black tipped nails trailed lightly over the bar, tracing the ornate woodwork carvings and just feeling the grain beneath her finger tips. It was all just so good, to smell the scent of wood and liquor and something that was just so uniquely Elefang. It calmed her, soothed her...

Until she heard the creak of metal hinges and the sound of approaching footsteps.

Like a frightened feline she practically snapped away from the bar and curled up into one of the nearby seats, eyes wide in inexplicable fear. She knows it's just her mind playing tricks on her, knows that it's just her imagination running wild. There are no more men in white to drag her by her hair into another torture chamber, it's just someone coming down the stairs.
Maybe a guest, or an employee.

Mordekai releases a shaky breath, tugging down the hem of the plain white tank top and reaching for her cigarette pack in her shorts. Knees curled up tight to her chest as she lit up a nicotine stick with trembling hands...

[eugene]

"D-dammit, these dang boots are way too heavy, light as a feather my..."

Eugene Biagio barely has time to finish his little rant when he looks up from his constant vigilance of the staircase to see his daughter scrunched up in one of the padded chairs near the bar. Hopefully because it was the nearest seat available and not because she needed the feel of the padding...
He's seen those cell walls before.

"Geez Slick, you know I hate it when ya smoke those things, and for gods sake, howsabout some modesty eh?" he runs over to where she sits, trying not to trip on his own feet while doing so. His jacket is taken off on the way over and flung over too slim shoulders, "Ya don't wanna give the Johns an eyeful do ya?"

He begins to fuss over her, randomly flicking a lock of deep maroon here, dusting off a bit of dust there. What he really wanted to do was to stub out that cigarette, but seeing the state that his kid was in, he decided against it. The last thing he wanted was to start a fight, especially with this little firecracker.

"So, whaddya think? I changed the walls to dark green, like money green, get it?"
Spreading his arms wide like a ringmaster in an attempt to make her laugh, smile, anything...
"At least this way, no one can say we're not going green, right?"

It's a good thing he wasn't the stand-up comedian for the joint.

"C'mon Slick, talk to your old man huh? I mean, otherwise ya just gonna fester and fester and stew and festerystew..."

[mordekai]

"Geez Slick, you know I hate it when ya smoke those things, and for gods sake, howsabout some modesty eh?"

That surprised her.
It shouldn't but it did.
She should have known he'd be here earlier to check up on everything before the patrons came in. Booze should be well stocked, cash register checked twice and staff primed before the clock struck twelve. She sighed out a breath of smoke as she was wrapped up in her fathers jacket, the smell of peppermint and mothballs comforted her as she hides behind the high collar and overly compensated shoulder pads.

"Ya don't wanna give the Johns an eyeful do ya?"

Ignoring him completely she looked over to where an unfamiliar face was wiping down the tables in the far corner.
"We need to look into dat hiring thing cher, Morty be thinkin we're a little understaffed non?"
Slowly sliding off the seat she gets to her feet and does a slow perusal of the pub's interiors, noticing a few changes since she'd left.

"So, whaddya think? I changed the walls to dark green, like money green, get it? At least this way, no one can say we're not going green, right?"

She ignored him again, tapping the end of her cigarette into a free ashtray and exhaled once more as she fingered the porcelain rim. Slate blue hues idly watched the embers shrivel up and die somehow not being able to bring herself to even come up with something else to say to reply her dad's corny jokes.
It just sounded so exhausting.

"C'mon Slick, talk to your old man huh? I mean, otherwise ya just gonna fester and fester and stew and festerystew..."

The mink blinked, feeling her jaw click.
She whipped around to face her father, the sleeves of the jacket swinging around with her like limp, broken wings. The smoke trailing behind in a circular swirl. A blank gaze trained right on the small man, she tilted her head and slowly walked over to him.
"Oh but cher, Morty be festering everyday, just like you. We're mortal non? Unlike de customers we serve... "
The ex Bayou Queen stopped just a few feet away from the very man who'd raised her, her eyes half covered by a curtain of wine red hair.

"I don't have time for the festerin and the stewin cher... Otherwise I'd be dead."

There was a strange glint in her stare, the kind that made her wonder at times ,when she was brave enough to look at herself in the mirror, whether she truly was mad in the first place.

[eugene]

His daughter wasn't insane, of that he was very sure.
But when she looked at him like that, with the strange odd look on her face like a feline contemplating its kill, he barely recognised his own kid anymore. Like she had come out of the Asylum with her parts put on the wrong way. That look, sent chills down his already flimsy spine and he just couldn't hold her steely gaze.

"J-jesus Slick, it's a wonder there ain't no icicles hangin from the ceiling,"
He was still kidding around, sort of.
"Look, just... try, to... you know..."

Mordekai may not have been that tall, but with the way she stood there with his jacket over her shoulders like some mafia boss, he felt that much shorter.That gift of the gab, lost when he was confronted by the sight of his only child acting like a completely different person. A mimic with a time-bomb for a soul.

"Try."
He says with a circular motion of his hands as he tried to formulate the words that bounced around in his head like jack rabbits on coke.
"Try to... I dunno. Let go of this stuff that's inside of you, it'll just plain eat you up inside and I know eatin when I sees it and damn it Slick you know I ain't good with this shit!"

Scratching the back of his head violently, he gave a frustrated hiss as he rued the day he ever let that gypsy mother of hers waltz into his life and mess things up so badly. He could have just stayed where he was as his brother's lackey slash punching bag, cleaning tables for a living while his own father told him that he missed a spot...
A 'much' better prospect he was sure.

"Whaddya want me to do Morty? Apologise?"

[mordekai]

Perhaps she was getting some sort of perverse pleasure from watching her father squirm. The same way she used to make her wardens and the other nut-cases shy away from just one good hard stare. The doctors said it was her lust for power she couldn't have, a type of megalomania. She'd beg to differ of course, she found no great need to overpower anyone, it was just far too time and energy consuming in her opinion.

"Try. Try to... I dunno. Let go of this stuff that's inside of you, it'll just plain eat you up inside and I know eatin when I sees it and damn it Slick you know I ain't good with this shit!"

No.
But maybe in her own petty way, she was angry with how easy Eugene expected her to just get over what happened. As if she could go back to that bright eyed tail-winder those many years ago. She wasn't going to turn into some broody, overly emotional fruitcake, but hey, she was only human after all.

"Whaddya want me to do Morty? Apologise?"

Before he could even finish that line she was up in his face with a well manicured finger, cold blues flaring as she hissed.
"Don't you DARE say you're sorry to me Eugene Biagio, don't you dare..."
Her breath was coming in heavy ,short pants. That single burst of anger took more out of her than she expected.

Then just as quickly as it happened, her temper disappeared. While she may not have been exactly grinning from ear to ear, the stone-like stare softened into something less cruel. Stepping back out of his personal space ,Mort took in another drag of the short butt and spoke through a cloud of smoke.

"You did what you had to cher..."
Slow steps backwards until her hip bumped into a table.
"And I'll do what I have to."

What's left of the cigarette is put out and left to fizzle out in the ashtray, she looks at as she lets her father's jacket drop from her shoulders, draping it over the back of a chair.

"Morty likes da glass ashtrays better,"
There was barely a noise as the mink made her way out the door.
"That ceramic ting looks cheap."

Her piece was said, and she left.