Let the [RECORD] show [OPEN]

[DAMIEN REID EVANS]

yo ho ho and a bottle of rum we go

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its my DUTY[/color] to please that BOOTY[/font][/size]

now and then, we had a hope, [/color]
that if we were good,[/size][/center]

Damien glanced in the mirror, turning around and viewing the curves of his back as he eyed the leather pants and jacket he was wearing, newly brought of course, he could still smell the perfume that made up the department store from which he purchased it form. And feel the sense of accomplishment now that it was in his possession. He never regretted what he brought- from the black leather, to the combat boots that were firmly planted on the ground, up to the thick metal chains that looped around his neck, weighed down his wrists and pierced through his skin on his face.

Biting his tongue ring for a moment, he turned in the opposite direction, looking at the plain white tee he was wearing under the jacket before shrugging nonchalantly, having searched through his luggage long enough to motivate him into believing that he's not at his best, but it certainty wasn't the worst look he could pull of either. Ah well, live and learn,

[/color] he thought as he ambled into the bathroom, pulling out his makeup bag putting on some eyeliner and red eyeshadow to match his new hair color. He leaned forward, staring at himself in the mirror again before taking off the eye shadow and leaving the liner on; quickly tossing the pencil in his bag before he could change his mind once more.

Soft padded carpet muffled his footsteps as he exited his room, closing the door as he headed down the hall, stuffing his hands in his pocket as he looked around, noting the cheesy color of the walls as he used the stairs, to go to the top floor, fearing that his claustrophobia would best him if he took the elevator- god knows what people think when they see him stepping out from the door that leads to the stairway. It wasn't the first night he had been here, but he wasn't setting the bar high in socializing. Why? He wasn't sure, but recalling an earlier conversation, his friend encouraged him to get out more and meet people.

Pushing open the door, he glanced at the time on his phone. Only ten? What the hell is he going to do when it was only ten? He wasn't sure of the answer, and still wasn't when he entered the VIP Lounge, and he still wasn't sure when he ordered a glass of liquid cocaine and sat down on one of the crisp while seats off to the side. Well- he figured the first thing to do was relax- the second would be just to wait and see who would approach him, or else he would have to do the scoping.

Leaning back, the material groaned before quieted. His cloudy contact eyes surveyed the scene before landing on someone not far off from where he was sitting.
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god would permit us to be
PIRATES

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-----------------------------------------
^{478 bottles of rum are gone, (and really bad eggs)
reserved for the great motherfucking pirate: you tell me
raise the white flag: this post sucked. sorry
Song- Yo Ho! - Blood on the Dance Floor
Credit to: TIANA?!}[/sup][/center]

[GRACE AURORA WALTERS]

if you are what you say you are, a

[/i][/b][/color][/font]
SUPERSTAR, THEN HAVE NO FEAR--THE CAMERA'S HERE, AND THE MICROPHONE AND
THEY WANNA KNOW, OH, OH, OH. YEAH. IF YOU ARE WHAT YOU SAY YOU ARE, A SUPERSTAR.[/center]

» Originally, there had been nothing suspicious about Grace Walters' plan. She'd dressed up with the intention to either hit up the Pearl Club or Naughtical, the two clubs aboard the ship that she'd been frequenting for the past week or so. At first, she'd gone out just to make up for her weird social reclusion, but now she was kind of just going overboard with the whole sentiment. It seemed like she hadn't returned to her room before three in the morning every day that week. Grace knew why she was still keeping this nonsense up--at least, she'd realize why if she was being honest with herself. Part of her wanted Russell to be concerned. She'd missed quite a few calls from him that week while dancing and drinking the nights away in the clubs, but he didn't seem too concerned. He actually seemed happy that she was going out and having fun on her own. This was the exact opposite of what Grace wanted.

» She'd never thought that she'd be the type of girl to try to emotionally manipulate her boyfriend, but it had really come to that. Russell was supposed to feel jealous and a little bit slighted. He was supposed to be mad that instead of spending her free time with him, she was going out to the clubs on a ship full of hot singles and drinking and mingling. He was supposed to get possessive and overprotective, like he usually did. He was supposed to try to stop her from going out. But no. Instead, he just smiled and nodded at her and said, "Good for you." That phrase made Grace fume. Good for you? What did he even mean by that?

» And on her other hand, there was Taya. Cool, sweet Taya, who she was supposed to be able to go to for anything. She couldn't tell Taya about this--Taya was, as much as Grace hated to admit it, the main reason for her going out every night. Her feelings for the girl were getting more persistent and harder to ignore. Alcohol numbed them considerably (as long as Taya wasn't in the vicinity) and for some reason, being around Russell just made them worse. Of course, there was no real escaping from her own feelings. Grace could drink as much as she wanted to--it wouldn't make a damn difference at the end of the day. All it was doing was making Taya worried about her, which just hurt Grace more because then she felt bad for making Taya worry and then she got mad because Taya was feeling the way Russell was supposed to. Grace's romantic life was an absolute mess.

» So that's how she found herself on her way to the top level of the ship, where all the hottest clubs awaited her. Grace passed the Pearl Club (as she'd been there the night before) and she was making her way towards Naughtical when two very fancy double-doors opened and out stepped a glamorous, important looking woman. She barely seemed to notice Grace as she walked on by, but she held her chin up high and looked like the kind of people Grace wanted to bump elbows with. Grace licked her lips and looked at the doors the woman had just exited from. How had she not noticed them before? The entrance didn't look familiar to her at all. The doors were large, red and glossy and Grace scanned them slowly, finding the letters "V.I.P." embossed in a bold black on the right door, right above the gold handle. Oh. Well, that all made sense now.

» She had never dared to venture into the mysterious VIP Lounge. And why would she? Grace blinked. This was the center for all the important and famous people on the ship. It was like their watering hole or something. How had she not tried to get in yet? Wasn't this the way to get her name out there? Grace pursed her lips; she was supposed to be an opportunist and yet, she had let this perfect opportunity go. "But no longer," she told herself, biting down on her bottom lip hard. This wasn't a dream, it was a challenge and she could do this. Grace looked down at her outfit and fluffed up her teased her a little more. She looked more than acceptable, she looked great. She'd fit in just right.

» Taking a deep breath for courage, Grace opened the double doors and strutted into the VIP Lounge as if she owned the place. There were two security guards dressed in those stereotypically all black suits waiting outside in the foyer to the lounge and Grace assumed she knew them from staff orientation, but she couldn't recognize them with their dark tinted sunglasses on. They looked mighty intimidating though and Grace briefly considered chickening out and just going to Naughtical again. But she swallowed her fear because, honestly, she'd made it inside at least. She could even see the lounge from where she was standing--or at least, she could hear the people. They were right around the corner. So close and yet so far. Grace looked at the security guards (she couldn't tell if they were looking back at her or if they'd even seen her yet) and steeled herself. It was now or never, do or die.

» She bravely approached them, unsure of what the norm was for actually getting into the lounge was. Did the rich and famous get passes or something when they signed up for the cruise? Shit, shit, shit, Grace thought to herself, sure she was going to get caught and subsequently fired. This was a horrible idea. Why was she here? Grace groaned quietly as doubt after doubt filled her mind, but when she got up to the guards, one of them just nodded at her and she turned the corner and entered the lounge. The moment she was inside--inside for real this time--Grace kind of just stood around and blinked. That had not just happened. Had they thought she was famous too? Grace didn't even have enough time to process this. As she looked around the room, she realized she had a lot of elbow brushing to get up to.

» Grace was brave, but not foolish. She knew she couldn't just dive feet first into this business, so she headed to the bar for some drinks to loosen her up. There, she found a conversational partner in a guy who had definitely been one of the lesser known supporting actors in a movie that had been nominated for some Oscars earlier that year. It hadn't won anything, but all the same. Grace, surprisingly not as starstruck as she'd imagined she'd be, felt as if she were surrounded by royalty. While she wasn't into the acting business, it was still cool to be so close to someone so famous. Grace seemed to play it off well--acting like a celebrity, that was. Oh, if they only knew that she was just staff on this ship. It felt like some kind of joke that only Grace was in on. She was actually having fun with this. It was a lot easier mostly because famous people seemed to enjoy not talking about how famous they were. Grace could work with that.

» A couple of drinks later, she was looser and bolder than when she'd first walked in, but she was just grazing the edge of tipsy. She certainly wasn't planning on getting drunk (how embarrassing would that be?), but having a little liquid courage made for easier conversations. That's what Grace needed. The guy she was talking to at the bar had left a while ago and now Grace needed someone else to chat up. Preferably someone who would be of use to her... Grace quickly scanned the room and her eyes fell upon the one and only Damien Evans. She was going to look away, but they'd made eye contact and it would've been too awkward for her to not say anything. Besides, he wasn't too far away from her. She could...she could talk to him.

» Grace moved away from the bar and towards Damien with a kind of practiced confidence. This was her make it or break it moment (or at least, it was in her head). He was a famous musician, the very thing she aspired to be. He was the kind of person she was meant to be chatting up. Before she knew it, Grace was standing before Damien with a tight smile on her face. "Damien Evans, right?" she started, thinking it was clever of her to pretend she didn't know exactly who he was right off the bat. Grace extended her hand and her smile grew a little warmer. She had to bring out all the charm she had. "Hi, I'm Grace. I'm a big fan."

[/color] Okay, so that was a lie, but it was okay. Sometimes you had to build them up and kiss some ass before you got anywhere, right? And it wasn't as if Grace had never listened to Damien's band before. It was just that, well, it wasn't really her style. Taya had once (affectionately) called Grace's preferred genre of music "coffee shop lounge music". Grace took the seat next to Damien and crossed her legs, looking as elegant and poised as those supermodels in magazines. "You're a lot handsomer in person,"[/color] Grace said with a small wink. She had always been a bit of a natural flirt, one of the things Russell always got annoyed with her about. She hoped it worked on Damien a little and that she wasn't going too far already. "Pictures really don't do you justice."[/color] [/justify][/blockquote][/blockquote]

» tagged;; damien reid evans ! » outfit;; here.
» lyrics;; superstar -- lupe fiasco.
» music;; downtown -- tegan and sara.
» words;; 1,620. » notes;; hope you don't mind her jumping in!
» credit;; template is all mine, bby!

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[DAMIEN REID EVANS]

yo ho ho and a bottle of rum we go

[/color]
its my DUTY[/color] to please that BOOTY[/font][/size]

now and then, we had a hope, [/color]
that if we were good,[/size][/center]

With a low sigh, Damien lifted the glass to his lips again, his pinky hovering over the glass casually before setting it back down, letting said finger be used as a cushion before gently putting it on the glass, leaning back. His eyes, which connected with a woman not far off from where he was, watched with a dark gaze as she decided to approach. Oh joy, couldn't someone just look around casually without having to give off a feeling that he didn't need to be approached? Apparently not, because there was so, what he thought was forced confidence shrouding herself as she neared. He shifted in his seat, and straightened as he followed her gaze. On second thought, as their eyes locked, he bid her to come; because he was really bored. He much would have preferred someone who was a little less sober, and in all honestly, she look a little too clear headed for his liking, but if the lemon law proved she was worthy, then maybe that could change by the end of the night after all.

He glanced up at her, his features hard and somewhat proud, but curiosity dotting the inner colors of his eyes. There was a certain amount of shrewdness in the way he looked at her, completely lucid and clear as he tried to find a name to a face- normally he was very much into the celebrity world, just meeting them and seeing what they are like- people like them equaled power, and though he wasn't interested in the type of gossip that sounded them, he liked to be noticed wit someone famous once in a while, they understood better- like how he had to tour and couldn't always be at home, or that once in a while fake stories would pop up about him, and it didn't always mean that it was true.

However, she wasn't that mainstream- she didn't look closely familiar at all. Granted, there were a ton of blonds, and he could simply couldn't recall her face smeared over the covers of a magazine or something. Its like trying to pull out a memory that has been smeared and dirty, bits and pieces are missing. Though it interested to see what lies are found on the shelves of local wal-marts, he didn't particularly care to get really in depth with it. He had better things to do; like writing, something he wasn't doing right now.

When she stopped, he tilted his head to the side in an almost innocent gesture, his eyes dancing with an unidentified emotion as she gushed right in front of him. He arched his brow, as if urging her on, or maybe more of an annoyance feeling- usually upstanding people wouldn't just stick up someone's ass like said girl in front of him; and said girl didn't exactly look like the type to enjoy his music. But who was he going to judge? Though most stereotypes are true- some people just don't follow the rule, and he was curious to see who this girl was; for now. Which was probably why he didn't wave her off with disdain.

He didn't move when she sat down, but his lips curled into an unreadable smile, nevertheless, a little flattered by her words. 'Oh? I never took you to be a fan,' he commented dryly, like there was some sort of underlying meaning to his words. 'I'm glad you like it; variety of different types of people is always something nice to see,' he added thoughtfully, a little more truthful with his words then before. It was true, he represented the type of man who told people to never let what other thinks, just be themselves, and if people other then the general punk/scene crowd liked him, it meant he was getting his message across- though she may be lying, there must be more who liked what he did and how he did it (in the music industry, that is.. maybe even a little more then that).

He chuckled casually, leaning forward and picking up his glass, holding a collected air of dignity, and calmness about him- around the edges were tinted with manipulation of unpure intentions.'Some people seem to think so,' he commented about his pictures. Of course- everyone enjoyed flattery, don't they?

'I'm sorry, I am clearly at a disadvantage, who exactly are you...?' he asked, if she was in the VIP, she must be a celebrity- or something really rich (which is also considered to be a celebrity), but who? He could tell anyone in the same VIP room, except her. How the hell did she get past security?

god would permit us to be
PIRATES

[/color]
-----------------------------------------
^{734 bottles of rum are gone, (and really bad eggs)
reserved for the great motherfucking pirate: .. drink up me hearties! yo ho!
raise the white flag: this post sucked. sorry
Song- Yo Ho! - Blood on the Dance Floor
Credit to: TIANA?!}[/sup]
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