A small crowd of people were accumulating on the sidewalk in front of club Warehouse. A single man was the source of the interest. He was a tall thin man that wore a pair of black pants that were tucked into the top of a pair of un-laced boots. The pants were rather tight and 100% leather, as were his boots. He also wore a tight black, nylon shirt that was tucked into his pants. His hair was almost to his waist and was jet black, he had it braided into a hundred tiny braids with green beads at the end of some of them.

The crowd accumulated quickly around the man as he stopped a few people to ask then if they'd like to see a little magic, some people stopped, most of them didn't. Though the eyelinner around his eyes made him look strangly attractive most people didn't like people that looked like him. Some were even afrade of him.

He shrugged and stepped over to a woman. "May I barrow a quater?" he asked her, she dug through her purse and produced a quater, He handed her a permanate pen. "Sign your name on it please." She did as she was told and dropped the coin into his open hand. "Thank you dear." He held up the quater, "a normal quater, donated by this lovely young lady," he showed the coin to everyone, font and back. Then he put it to his lips and pushed it into his mouth, picked up a glass of pure, clean water, and took a drink, swalowing the coin. He opened his mouth and stuck out his tounge and showed that the coin had truly been swallowed. The crowed of uninitiated people murmured, shocked.

He held up a finger, the fingernail painted black, as if to say "hold on", then he pulled up his sleeve. There was the indent of a round thing pressing against his skin from the inside, the size of the quater, slowly, it moved down his arm. The man took a knife from his pocket and cut his forearm open, Then slowly, he pushed the quater out from beneath his skin. People around started groaning and speaking in shocked and stunned voices. The quater, finally out, lay on his arm. He picked it up and showed it to the woman who'd provided it, "Is this your signature? This was your coin?" she nodded, stunned. The man held up his hands and bowed slightly as the small crowd had clapped. "Complaments of the GothTech."

His skin itches with the crowd. Good itch, magic there, fake magic and Di's smiling because this is better than anything else. The awe and the apprehension of bodies, minds, spectacles they don't understand. Dion's always liked the Wharf, down in San Francisco, entertainers that shift and sway and paint themselves with lead-based silver paint. He used to wipe away their sweat without fully integrating, too immersed in his own world to disturb the other's. And this is how it is now, with the smell of blood like copper like lead, and sweat and inside it's very dull. Inside the Warehouse, where people throw themselves head-long into forced merriment and it doesn't work, never works unless they really want it. Aura is good in there, but better out here and he watches the man, smiling when the beads along his hair glitter.

"Got any rabbits?"

Muscles pull back and the buzzing in his ears intensifies, himself immersed in the human range of emotion of stimuli. Lips crack with layers of green gloss and his tongue licks a new trail of moisture across him. He can taste smoke on his lips and ignores the rest of the world. London is an explosion of rain and smog and here, here's there's some guy blocking the street with magic tricks and Di with his voice pitched to carry. Something to distract himself with as that last drink hits bottom, mixes with the concoction already there and burns through his veins. He edges into the crowd as if it should swallow him whole, swallow him whole and and absorb him to its core.

Show over...for now...the crowed slowly began to depleat itself, some people walking away most entering the club. GothTech wasn't yet tired, nor was he ready yet to go partty anywhere. Actually he was eager to go home and read that new 'spell' book, but he'd been on his way home and decided to that tonight was a good night to try out some more of the 'trick of the eye' slights he'd recently learned.

"Got any rabbits?"

He could not help but chuckle, a course sound from low in his throat. Amusing. Oddly, GothTech really was amused by such comments, he got a kick out of being teased or taunted in such ways. Obviously he had his priorities a little backwards.

"Sorry Neighbor, no rabbits. Allergic you know." He replied. He smiled, lighting up his naturally tanned face at the thought. He'd pulled a rabbit from a hat a few times as a kid but soon came to realize it was the oldest trick in the book and he hated being un-original. He gave his braids a bit of a shake to get them back over his shoulders and pushed the bloodied quater into his leather pocket.

((Apologies for late and short-finishing post.))

Long. trailing approximation of a 'Hmm'. Di sidesteps through a few bodies, avoiding elbows and seeking softer, more yielding flesh to slide by. He gains more glitter than he was already wearing and, newly re-shined, edges back into the club.