It's night, and the Twa belongs to the night people.

They are especially drunk, as Jay has just bought everyone a round. He'd used real money, too, not glamour'd leaves-- if the 'keep caught wise, he'd be out on his ass.

Sitting primly on a stool at the bar, wearing pink and white, Jay only looks gay in the non-'happy' way. He seems stressed, in fact-- his dark hair, pink-streaked, is styled to a fault. His jeans are fussily cleaned. Even now, he's picking at peanut crumbs on the bar, placing them into a small pile and smiling at everyone who comes by to roar a thankyou for the drink.

It was not, you see, a celebratory round. It was actually an attempt to bribe karma-- look, Jay says, emptying his wallet into the Twa's cash register. I am a good person. See? Now give me something I want.

What he wants, specifically, is for his film to be chosen for this year's festival. He'll hear in a couple days whether it's yea or nay, and it's been weighing on his mine like an atlantic freighter's anchor.

So he's smiling brittlely, sitting primly, and just pumping out as many good karma points as he can muster.

ooc: Mine. So there. At least, once I have, like. Brain cells.

But mine.

Technically he shouldn't be here.

Technically he shouldn't be able to be here. It isn't exactly a summery place.

But he's a god. Rules are odd around gods.

So a young man with a blaze of copper hair and a ready smile and twinkling green eyes takes a seat next to Jay, a flickering of fingers his greeting. He just missed that round of drinks, sadly. He just got here.

He's not a college student, apparently, too professional for that. He's the 'I just got off work, thank heavens for vacations' type. The type that works all day and parties all night and sees no reason not to have the best of both worlds.

He flashes Jay a grin before ordering himself a drink.

Around his neck, a twist of grapevines in black, with tiny flowers picked out delicately in white, contrasting tanned skin.

Normal tattoos don't have the flowers rustling in an imagined breeze.

This being Jay, he checks out the guy's body first. Mm, good legs. Good... yeah. Looks not too buff, but just a little muscled nonetheless-- the Greek God type (har har), a favourite of Jay's.

Nice shoulders, too. Hey, a tatto--oh fuck.

Jay, you see, is innish and was raised that way. Unnish parents tach their children to look both ways before crossing the street. Innish parents add on to that list of "essential safety tips" the godsigns of any major gods spotted in the area.

Summer is not technically a major god, but he could still probably turn you into a tree, so Jay's parents made him memorze that godsign as well.

Yes, that one. Right there. Like, three feet away from him.

Weakly, he grins back. It's a bit like running into a celebrity in a bar, you see, if a celebrity had the power to screw you over on a whim.

Now, one of the advantages (disadvantages) of being a minor god is that any dramatic increase in attention catches your attention like a foghorn blaring in your ear.

The god looks directly at Jay, and raises his eyebrows.

Did you want something?

Jay ducks his head in response to this inquisition.

"Nothing."

It's a god, dumbass!

"Sir."

The god chuckles.

"Very funny. Bothering you, am I?"

He is just here for a drink, thank you very much.

His fingers still in his little pile of peanut bits, Jay shakes his pretty pink head quickly.

"Not at all, Sir. I just didn't... ah... expect..."

To see a God.

"I'll have you know I am ridiculously punctual."

So there.

"Rather like the sun coming up in the east, really."

Summer comes when winter is over. Well known fact.

Spring can complain all it likes. Summer follows a schedule.

"Absolutely."

Would it be considered rude if he just left? Is Summer as curse-happy as some of the others? He should ahve paid more attention to his parents.

"There', uh, stilla bit of snow out, though."

Summer thinks about this.

"I really don't care."

Summer, in general, isn't curse-happy.

Unless you irritate him.

He's watching Jay as one might watch an interesting insect.

Yes, comparisons involving pins and display cases could be made.

He's aponderin'.

"That's always a factor."

He plays with the peanut bits, reminding himself he'll have to wash his hands after this. Salt, and all.

"Well, I know I wouldn't mind it being a bit warmer out."

"Good."

His drink is here. He likes his drink. It involves alcohol.

"You do this often?"

Go to bars, talk to gods, have hair that color.

This could mean all sorts of things.

Play with peanut bits?

"Do what?" he asks, tr ying to relax. After all, there are worse gods he could have run into. Besides, it'll be a story for his friends, right?

Innish friends, anyhow.

The god thinks about this.

"Talk to gods. You're less ignorant and more nervous than most."

He shrugs and proceeds to quaff his ale.

No, not literally. That would involve spillage.

But he's the kind of person - being - that quaffs ale.

"Not a whole lot, no."

Watches out of the corner of his eye. No wonder the boy is attractive-- gods can be anything.

"I just know... you when I see you."

Gods can be anything. Hunter prefers the, as Jay put it, greek god type.

He has fond memories of greece.

"Must be fun."

He's being remarkably opaque today. Apparently he's in a frustrating sort of mood.

"And you did that to your hair deliberately?"

Just to recheck.

And randomly change the subject completely.

Automatically, he gives the hair a flip and the god a deliberately provocative, half-lidded look. This shows off nicely the subtle eyeliner he's wearing.

"You don't pay 35 bucks for an accident, honey. I mean, sir."

Hunter grins at him.

"Must you be so formal?"

He's playing. A rather cruel game, but playing.

"I'm going to think you don't like me."

Despite joking tone, it's still a threat.

Yay for gods and their ability to be complete and utter manipulative bastards.

Ahahaha yeah funny. Not.

He forces a grin, pulling in his drama training-- which he uses every sinle day, we should know.

"What would you prefer-- 'honey' or 'O Great Tavarlee'?" He uses a traditional Fae name for a summer god, one from an old pantheon his grandmother still pays homage to.

The god grins.

"Your choice, of course."

A grin from this god isn't very comforting. He's the god of predators, or was, and it isn't so much a grin as a baring of teeth.

He still hasn't decided whether or not he wants to be flirtatious, so instead he's just being infuriating.

He enjoys being infuriating. It's a joy.

"If my nana found out I'd called you anything but Tavarlee, she'd probably broom me upside the head." To broom, in this case, means to hit with a broom. Specifically, with his grandmother's small birchtwig hand broom. It left a nasty welt when Jay was a child.

"Then what were you doing calling me sir?"

He's curious. Really.

He isn't just nit-picking.

Okay, he is just nit-picking. He's bored and Jay's shiny.

Think of him as a magpie, if that makes it make more sense.

"I'm sure nana would approve of sir, too. She just doesn't want an aspen-tree grandson. She's happy with me as I am, eartips to toetips."

People sometimes make fun of him for sayings like this. We'll blame the traditional Fae neighbourhood.

"Hmm... no, you'd make a horrible aspen."

He thinks about this.

"You might make a nice cat, however."

Just messing with him.

Probably.

"Well, nana does like cats..."

He's also joking. Really joking. Do not turn him into a cat. Please.

Hunter looks at him with dancing green eyes and an expression that suggests that he will totally turn him into a cat if Jay likes.

Or possibly skin and eat him.

Or maybe kiss him.

He hasn't made up his mind.

Hahahaha fuck.

Jay's heart jumps up a couple gears, and he grins nervously, a tiny laugh escaping.

"Ah-hah, um, not seroously. Tavarlee."

Hunter chuckles.

"I'm messing with you, you realize."

It should be obvious by now.

He's having enough fun for it to be obvious to anyone with half a brain.

Half-nervous, half-sheeping, Jay offers another grin.

"Yeah, but... you know."

He could decide to turn him into a cat /anyways/. Gods do that.

"Point...."

Lee grins.

"But at the moment I'm not going to. So there."

He considers this.

"Still, I should do something. To remember me by."

Pondersome.

"Well, I'd ask for you to make me devilishly attractive, but, you know, it'd just be redundant."

He's only half kidding.

"I do pheromones, but I don't think it would fit."

He's still got that considering expression on his face.

"I'm open to thought-out suggestions here, Jay."

Were they introduced?

Oh well. Doesn't matter much either way.

Well, traditionally, the Fae really are summer creatures-- especially Jay's tribe once-on-a-when, as his grandmother likes to sometimes remind him.

She's big into the history of the old world. Jay mostly never cared.

"Uh." You see, he could ask for his film to be chosen; however, he'd rather it got in on actually being good.

Dilemma, dilemma.

"I dunno. Uh, Tavarlee."

He's pretty happy with what he has, you see.

The fae, Lee concludes with a put-upon sigh, is being boring.

If his expression can be described as anything, it could be called irritated.

He turns Jay's hair gold. Bright, gleaming metallic gold.

He isn't sure whether or not the color suits the fae, though.

Hm.

Jay, having his hair gelled up and away from his face, does not actually notice this other than wondering why the lighting has changed.

He offers the god an uncertain grin, not sure why he si't speaking.

Lee offers him a mirror.

"Thoughts?"

If Jay's going to have an odd hair color, Lee's going to play with it, sure as sunshine.

"Gghk!"

Jay likes his hair. He pout, and then his natural (and cultural) mischviousness kicks in.

Fae glamour, anyone?

He waves a hand, not even bothering to watch the crowd-- they're too drunk to remember this, anyhow. The ones who aren't alreay innish.

A glamour, a thin illusion based mostly on 'want', cover the bright and clashy hair, sheathing it in a comfortable lime-green-streaked brown.

Lee is having a hard time deciding between amusement and anger.

On the one hand, the fae is irritating him.

On the other, the fae is being cute in doing so.

Tricky.

"If you didn't like it, you might have just said."

Whether or not that would have worked is an open question, of course.

"Didn't like it? I thought we were experimenting with hairstyles." Which is a lie-- said coyly, but a complete fabrication nonetheless.

Jay is high on adrenaline.

Hey, the hair /is/ green instead of pink. It's plausible.