Mark Cohen ([info]bohemian_mark) wrote in [info]milliways_bar,
2006-01-20 12:42:00
Afternoon in the bar isn't usually very exciting. However, that is all about to change.
A new member of the Alphabet City avant-garde.... Angel Dumott Schunard!
Down the stairs, bathed in a strange confidence comes, well, an odd figure. The first thing seen are black almost-knee-high boots with four-inch heels. Then, zebra print tights, a white skirt, and a Santa-top. Drumsticks are stuck in the belt of the jacket over a white turtleneck.
The music ignites the night with passionate fire
She grins out towards the bar, jumping onto the nearest table, and beginning to keep a rather up-tempo beat on the rafters.
It reaches way down deep and tears you inside out till you're torn apart.
Bar, meet... Angel. However, doesn't Angel have better legs than that? And since when is Angel that pale....

That's a good boy. You can't stop me now. I will do whatever I want. And I can, you know.

Mark Cohen, for that is truly who it is, beams at the bar at large, and starts to sing, drum solo, and dancing and all.


It was my lucky day today on Avenue A
When a lady in a limousine drove my way
She said, "Dahling -- be a dear -- haven't slept in a year
I need your help to make my neighbor's yappy dog disappear"
"This Akita-Evita just won't shut up
I believe if you play non-stop that pup
Will breathe its very last high-strung breath
I'm certain that cur will bark itself to death"
Today for you -- tomorrow for me
Today for you -- tomorrow for me
We agreed on a fee -- A thousand dollar guarantee
Tax-free -- and a bonus if I trim her tree
Now who could foretell that it would go so well
But sure as I am here that dog is now in doggy hell
After an hour -- Evita -- in all her glory
On the window ledge of that 23rd story
Like Thelma and Louise did when they got the blues
Swan dove into the courtyard of the Gracie Mews
Today for you -- tomorrow for me
Today for you -- tomorrow for me

Then back to the street where I met my sweet
Where he was moaning and groaning on the cold concrete
The nurse took him home for some mercurochrome
And I dressed his wounds and got him back on his feet
Sing it!
Today for you -- tomorrow for me
Today for you -- tomorrow for me
Today for you -- tomorrow for me
Today for you -- tomorrow for me


Strange, how she's not falling over. Who knew Mark had balance like that.
Tags: angel dumott schunard, mark cohen, plot with rocks in

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  • 30 comments

[info]the_antiangst

January 20 2006, 19:15:38 UTC 6 years ago

It's probably a miracle Angel doesn't drop the camera, or maybe the music's running interference on that end as well. Hard to tell, at this point.
At any rate, Angel can't stop staring. And did we mention the jeans and Brown Journalism Department sweatshirt? And the fact that he hasn't managed to say much of anything yet?

[info]bohemian_mark

January 20 2006, 19:19:47 UTC 6 years ago

"Mark, honey, put that thing down before you drop it. I really don't think you want to totally break your spare camera." 'Angel' poses for the camera with a huge gring. "Besides, it's not as if you haven't seen me like this before."

[info]the_antiangst

January 20 2006, 19:25:49 UTC 6 years ago

......................................................................................................
"...Ladies and gentlemen, your substitute cameraman is at a loss for words."
It's something that might pass for narration, anyway.

[info]bohemian_mark

January 20 2006, 19:29:29 UTC 6 years ago

"Substitute cameraman? Is there something I don't know, honey? Please don't tell me Roger's taken up film. I really don't think we need that many angsty films." She's still on the table, squatting on her toes, a bit of a way across the bar from the real Angel.

[info]the_antiangst

January 20 2006, 19:33:56 UTC 6 years ago

"I... but... you... what?"
Angel finally does put the camera down. There still aren't really words.
".......You do know Christmas was nearly a month ago, right?"

[info]bohemian_mark

January 20 2006, 19:40:29 UTC 6 years ago

"Well, yes, it is perhaps a bit tacky to wear this now, but sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do." There's a huge grin. "And honey, really, you look like you could need a tea or something. Where's that Benny-rat of yours when we need him?"

[info]the_antiangst

January 20 2006, 19:44:30 UTC 6 years ago

Oh, please. Angel would never wear that out of season!
But for now, the indignation's overridden by sheer WTF. "You got me. Maybe he's hidi-- off, today?"

[info]bohemian_mark

January 20 2006, 19:49:27 UTC 6 years ago

Angel mightn't, but the Music is nothing if not tacky sometimes.

The beskirted person, however, stands, looking around the bar for a rat that is definitely hiding. "Well, we can't have that, honey, I'll get you something."

With that, 'Angel' jumps from empty table to empty table, getting a hot cocoa from bar, and returning, to again squat on a table. "Here."

[info]the_antiangst

January 20 2006, 19:51:05 UTC 6 years ago

"..........Thanks."
This? Is weird. Fucking weird, even.

[info]bohemian_mark

January 20 2006, 19:53:14 UTC 6 years ago

Real life's getting more like fiction each day, isn't it? The music swirls around the two for a moment, barely an unsung song.

"No problem. What ever is the matter, really? I know I'm dead and all, but you look like you've seen a ghost that's not me."

[info]the_antiangst

January 20 2006, 20:12:31 UTC 6 years ago

Angel notices, out of the corner of his eye, Susan talking to some guy by the piano. And proceeds to hope like hell that's Patient Zero and she's making some kind of progress on getting rid of this damned music.
Mark! Mark, are you there?
".........It's a long story."

[info]bohemian_mark

January 20 2006, 20:15:03 UTC 6 years ago

"I've got time." Pause. "By the way, honey, what's with the updated technology? Where's the old-standby camera?"

[info]the_antiangst

January 20 2006, 20:19:38 UTC 6 years ago

"It's... in the loft. Left it there on accident." Which is true enough, at least to Angel's knowledge.
................................This is like a train wreck, in a way.

[info]bohemian_mark

January 20 2006, 20:45:46 UTC 6 years ago

"Now that's not like you, honey. You never leave that thing anywhere." Pause. "Now, what's wrong. You're flailing. Is it Maureen again?"

[info]the_antiangst

January 20 2006, 20:53:47 UTC 6 years ago

"I did say by accident, didn't I?"
...He doesn't want to get into this now. But if Mark's staying true to character (and he is, which is why this is so damn freaky), he's not gonna let the matter drop.
"You probably wouldn't believe me if I told you. I mean, this is weird even for here."

[info]bohemian_mark

January 20 2006, 21:44:13 UTC 6 years ago

"Oh, you don't know wierd, Mark. You really truly don't." It might be Angel's voice, Angel's appearance, and Angel's character, but the sentiments are pure Music.
Empty spaces what are we living for
Abandoned places I guess we know the score On and on, does anybody know what we are looking for Another hero, another mindless crime...

[info]the_antiangst

January 20 2006, 21:48:48 UTC 6 years ago

"And never mind that I've been here for the better part of a year, then?"

[info]bohemian_mark

January 20 2006, 21:52:42 UTC 6 years ago

"Of course not. There's always something new and different to see, a new song to sing."

There's a pause, and then a song. Who knows where it comes from.

Inside my heart is breaking
My make-up may be flaking
But my smile still stays on.
Whatever happens, I’ll leave it all to chance
Another heartache, another failed romance
On and on, does anybody know what we are living for?
I guess I’m learning, I must be warmer now
I’ll soon be turning, round the corner now
Outside the dawn is breaking
But inside in the dark I’m aching to be free

[info]the_antiangst

January 20 2006, 22:08:18 UTC 6 years ago

".............New and different things to see should never have stretched to this."
And that would mostly be directed at the music.

[info]bohemian_mark

January 20 2006, 23:23:50 UTC 6 years ago

"Oh, but they should. This is the way things... the way....." There's a pause, and a blink.
Hey, the door is that way... The fire's out anyway.
Oh, my boy, we could be huge. We could be grand together. Just think of the lovely music...
Draw a line in the sand and then make a stand.... use your camera to spar, use your guitar.... When they act tough, you call their bluff.
"Leave me the fuck alone!"
It's just a snapped annoyance, like Mark has so many times snapped at Roger, but still. It is -there-. It's been said.
And then, everything falls apart. Instead of Angel standing on a table, it's Mark Cohen, in a skirt, and realizing that he's in four-inch-heels. Shit. The balance and confidence seem to leave him at the same moment, and he tries to step down off the table, but falls, and in the process turns his ankle. Badly.
He lies there for a moment, facepalming, and then, in the great tradition of movies everywhere, he speaks. "Medic!" ... Mark's back, all.

[info]the_antiangst

January 21 2006, 01:16:26 UTC 6 years ago

And oh, is that ever a relief to hear.
"Mark Cohen, take those fucking shoes off before you kill yourself. Further."
Angel's smiling, though - whatever ended up happening, they weren't too late after all.

[info]bohemian_mark

January 21 2006, 04:22:33 UTC 6 years ago

"Fucking -hell-, Angel, how did I get these damned things on in the first place?" He unties the boots, removing first the left, then, gingerly, the right. "Ow." He swears for a moment, obviously language learned from Roger. Pausing, he blinks. "Angel? What am I doing on the floor in your clothes?" He sits bolt upright. "And where's my camera?" He looks around, almost in a panic.

[info]the_antiangst

January 21 2006, 04:28:08 UTC 6 years ago

"You better not have stretched my tights all to hell, honey. Think the fucking music got you in that stuff, really - I'm kinda surprised you stayed upright half as long as you did."
There is, after all, a reason Angel told Mark to avoid heels.
"And your camera is in the loft, I think you said. Got your spare on hand, if you want it back now."
...and 6 more comments... from [info]the_antiangst, [info]bohemian_mark Expand

[info]farmboyrebel

January 20 2006, 22:39:40 UTC 6 years ago

Right. That is -not- something that should be seen by anyone. Biggs stares for a moment, open-mouthed, and then grabs a large mug of lum and stalks off to the sims room. Kriffing hells, this place is strange. And he thought Cohen was one of the sane ones.
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