Live Feedleash Log: 6/30/07
Dajvey:
*knocks on the door to the upstairs of the nabootique* *has feedleash in one hand and a new iPhone in the other, and is smoothly texting into one and speaking into the other*
Naboolio:
*ready to call out Bollo! - then - balls. Er, bugger. Gets up, flicking a ball out of his turban, and wanders vaguely towards the front door*
Naboolio:
*opens it*
Mmm?
Dajvey:
*immediately stops texting and speaking into her devices, then turns around - there's a meek woman lingering behind her* Inga... put everyone on hold. *thrusts the iPhone and feedleash at her, then turns back to Naboo*
Dajvey:
*big smile*
Hi!
*takes in his size*
Oh... you are just made of precious and adorable.
Naboolio:
*blinks*
You look familiar.
Dajvey:
Do I?
Naboolio:
*frowns*
Customer?
Dajvey:
*thinks on it* Mmmm... future business partner?
Naboolio:
*pauses a moment, and to his credit, doesn't react*
You better come in then, Dajve.
Naboolio:
*steps back to open the door wider*
Dajvey:
*grins* I knew you'd remember. *to Inga* Stay firm and at the ready, Inga. *to Naboo* My assistant. I'm not sure she speaks me. *swans past him and up the stairs*
Naboolio:
*pauses, wondering if Inga is supposed to follow*
Dajvey:
*Inga stands outside, looking at the sky*
Naboolio:
Er.
...right.
*sloooowly closes the door on her, and hurries upstairs*
Dajvey:
*politely waits at the top of the stairs for him* I hope I'm not interrupting any kinky drug play.
Naboolio:
*breathing a little faster when he gets to the top, feeling a bit old* Not today.
Is that why you came?
Dajvey:
*gives him a coy and vaguely smoldering look* Mmmm. *taps her cheek* Not today.
Naboolio:
*hands in his pockets* Business, you said.
Some other kind of business.
Dajvey:
*neutrally* Yes. It's to do with your ball-filled flat.
*looks around* this isn't it.
Naboolio:
It's next door.
Dajvey:
*looks around some more*
I like this one, though. It's bright. Confusing. Hard to tell where one thing ends and another begins.
Naboolio:
*sort of, a half-smile*
Thanks.
There was a *thinks of Bollo and Vince and Howard and Gregg* a team of decorators.
Naboolio:
*heads over to a door which separates the two flats, and opens it quickly*
*revealing a large flat filled with plastic balls, a slide, and some poorly homemade swings*
Dajvey:
*follows up behind him* And where's the posse you pal with? Aren't a dozen or so others supposed to live here?
Naboolio:
*hides a yawn*
Out.
Or hiding.
Dajvey:
*mock-shocked* From me?
Naboolio:
I reckon.
They're sort of, socially challenged, most of them.
Think of this place like an asylum where we're always running out of milk.
Dajvey:
*parses this* You run a home for the socially challenged, a drug ring, and a shaman shop? *doesn't look fazed, just interested*
*walks through the balls a little, but it's hard in high heels*
Naboolio:
It sort of just...happened.
*frowns* And it's not a drug ring.
It's only me.
Dajvey:
*smiles a little* The junkies are singing your praises, Shaman. The sound rings, thus so do you.
Naboolio:
*sits down in the balls, much more at ease* Junkies are easy to please. The conoisseurs, that's where you want to be looking.
Do you indulge at all?
Dajvey:
*waits a second before lowering herself into the balls* *unstraps her shoes to be more comfortable*
Dajvey:
Whatever's going.
I don't do addict.
But I dabble extensively.
iNaboolio:
*spreads his hands* I wouldn't suggest you did.
*leans out for his rucksack*
*sorting through the battered pockets and undoing various zips, thinking*
Dajvey:
*looks around the room, appraising its size, the lighting, etc.*
Those swings. Crafts by the socially challenged?
Naboolio:
*looks up*
Or the drug-addled, yeah.
Nice idea on paper.
Naboolio:
*wrinkles his nose* Didn't really use paper, sadly.
Dajvey:
I like them. I like the socially challenged. They're... such a challenge, you know?
Naboolio:
*snorts*
*pulls out a little bottle of something liquid and shiny*
*and weighs it in one hand*
Dajvey:
*watches him* Though it's easier if you ply them with drugs.
Naboolio:
If they take them.
*sort of a test, but sort of wants to impress*
*tosses it in her direction*
Dajvey:
*smoothly catches it*
Dajvey:
Junior softball league. My fathers dreamed of me being a lesbian pitcher.
Naboolio:
I don't really understand that sentence.
I'm going to pretend you're talking about cricket.
Dajvey:
*grins* But do you care that you don't? *holds the bottle to the light*
Naboolio:
Sport. *shrugs again* I'm not really built for it.
I'm good at human-sized chess, but people don't go in for it any more.
Dajvey:
Neither was I. Nor lesbian enough for softball. Henceforth known as dyke cricket.
*opens the bottle, sniffs*
Naboolio:
*snorts*
Dajvey:
Ingest? Seems a slow way to go.
Naboolio:
*rests his chin in his hands*
Dajvey:
Or did you fit it with magic propellers?
Naboolio:
Lady's choice.
Dajvey:
*considers, then drinks some*
You're abstaining?
Naboolio:
*blinks*
*then holds out a hand*
Fair enough.
Dajvey:
*passes it back with a smile*
*belatedly* Fuck, I forgot about Inga. Oh well, she can wait. That's what I pay her for.
Naboolio:
*considers rubbing it on some pulse points or something, but that would be childish - takes a swig, and re-plugs the cork*
What is she, exactly?
Dajvey:
My assistant. *laughs* The producers insisted I have one.
Naboolio:
Producers?
Dajvey:
I think I may start calling her my familiar.
Naboolio:
*giggles*
As long as she makes tea.
Dajvey:
*waves hand* Eh, it's all to do with my show. *rolls over on her side, not easy in the balls* Have you laid your black eyes on it yet?
Naboolio:
I saw the end of one episode, yeah.
At least, I think it was the end.
None of it really made sense.
Dajvey:
Does anything in this world? *sighs pleasantly, feeling the shiny liquid kick in*
Naboolio:
*shrugs* I suppose not.
Was it music and stuff?
Dajvey:
Music and stuff, things, whatnot, etc.
Shit and other shit.
Naboolio:
Barley stuff.
Dajvey:
*sits up* Barley stuff?
Naboolio:
Uh.
Dajvey:
Davje stuff is on another planet than Barley stuff.
Naboolio:
Right.
Dajvey:
*sighs* This always happens.
Naboolio:
*wrongfooted* What?
Dajvey:
Barley equals website. Penis pranks. Uncool hairstyles.
Naboolio:
And you equal...?
Dajvey:
*wide eyed* Dajve is music and video. Style, fashion, -television-.
Dajvey:
And Jonatton's… god.
Naboolio:
*blinks*
Jonatton is God?
Dajvey:
*tilts back on the balls again, thinking about how she'd like to unseat God*
Dajvey:
Mmmhmm. God, who gave unto us all his Complex.
Naboolio:
Have you met Jon?
He's really not very divine.
Sort of, the opposite.
Dajvey:
*shrugs* A god who wants to live amongst the devils, then.
Naboolio:
Never really met anyone who liked Jon that much.
*shakes his head*
Even Jon doesn't like Jon that much.
Dajvey:
Respect.... like. Two different words.
Naboolio:
*shrugs* Business. You said something about business.
Dajvey:
*looks at him with big, dilated eyes* *perfectly lucid voice* Bikinus Festivus.
Naboolio:
Bikinus...like...a festival.
You want me to help with a music festival?
Did you mistake me for a roadie?
Dajvey:
*smiles* It's not a guessing game. I was going to say more after the words sunk in.
Dajvey:
I'm thinking VIP party. I'm thinking third-stage bands only. I'm thinking people off their balls in your balls. *lightly tosses a ball in the air* What are you thinking?
Naboolio:
*chews on his lip*
New client base.
*grins* And a bit of fun.
Dajvey:
*smirks tiny bit* More than a bit of fun, if you want. Seems you know how to get it.
Naboolio:
*closes one eye* Have no idea what you mean.
Dajvey:
*tilts her head* as you say, coy boy.
Dajvey:
The Bikinus Festivus would be exclusive.
Invite only.
My people will set up and clean up.
Naboolio:
Then my people will need invites.
Dajvey:
*nods* You make your own guestlist.
Naboolio:
When?
Dajvey:
*spreads her hands* You're turning this into rooms for the socially challenged how soon?
Naboolio:
We could manage maybe a week? Gregg's gone away, Rudi's relaxed, Claire's - *thinks* I'll sort it. A week.
Dajvey:
*pleased* Next weekend, then. Short notice creates a bigger stir.
*leans toward him, lowers her voice* Also....
The official location won't be announced till the night of. If no one hears where the Festivus is for sure, then no one can gate crash. *puts a finger to her lips* You can keep a secret, right?
Naboolio:
*grins*
For you, I'll do my best.
Dajvey:
*smiles wide* buckets of thanks.
*closes her eyes, sighs happily*
I'm so fucked up right now.
Naboolio:
I'm impressed, you're still lucid.
Well, as much as you were before.
Dajvey:
*nods* I was conceived during a cocaine-sex-acid-trip between a gay man and a go-go dancer. What do you expect?
Naboolio:
Were either of them from another planet?
Dajvey:
*tilts her head* Why? Do I seem like I am? *ponders* Mother fucked off after I was born...
Naboolio:
Just checking.
*with a little geniune sympathy* Sounds like a hard life.
Dajvey:
*smiles* not at all. *playfully* don't try to adopt me into your home for the socially challenged, now. that's one box I don't check.
Naboolio:
I'm sure we could find room, if you needed it.
Mingling with the mermen and the ladyboys.
Dajvey:
*laughs* cheers, darling, but i've got a flat in soho. for sleeping only.
Dajvey:
*stretches like a cat* I'll come and play again, though. Without the business.
Naboolio:
I'll keep the door on the latch.
Could do with someone who can keep up.
Most people are asleep by now.
Dajvey:
*shakes head* can't sleep. too much to do. *looks at her wrist, where no watch is* i should go in five.
Dajvey:
*looks back up* where's the ladyboy?
Naboolio:
*frowns* Detectoring.
Dajvey:
*narrows eyes wickedly* I want to take the lady out of him.
Naboolio:
*chokes on something*
...and put it where?!
Dajvey:
*swings eye to him* ...and take the business out of you.
Naboolio:
*eyebrows up near his hairline, somehow the thought of Vince getting mixed up in that and making him feel ill*
Er.
Not at the same time.
Dajvey:
No.
*lightly* That would be greedy.
*starts to put on her shoes* I should get outside before Inga is raped by that singing tramp.
Naboolio:
Nah, he's harmless.
*gets to his feet, and offers her his arm to pull herself up*
Dajvey:
*grabs his arm and teeters onto her high heels* Whoa.. *shakes head* Keep it... together... girl.
*slaps herself on each cheek*
Dajvey:
*bends down* Slap me, quick!
Naboolio:
*one hand back, hits her as hard as possible on both cheeks*
Better? I can give you something to take you down, but it might be best if you ride it out yourself.
Dajvey:
*swallows, her eyes watering up* No, no. Just needed a reboot.
*collects herself* Thanks.
Naboolio:
My pleasure.
*opens the door for her*
Dajvey:
Thanks for the sample. It will make my interview with Two-Tonne Mafia so much easier.
*smiles, brilliant and lucid again*
Naboolio:
*nods*
If you're ever in need.
I'm a little different to what you're used to, I'm sure.
Dajvey:
In need of -anything-? *just a shade suggestive* I'll remember.
*puts a finger to his lips* So long as you remember: Bikinus Festivus equals secretus.
Naboolio:
*doesn't move, but doesn't do anything else, eyes a bit wide*
Sure.
Dajvey:
*taps his lips, then pulls her hand away and smiles* Laters, Naboo. Business was a pleasure. I'll get back to you on the detailed details, yes?
Naboolio:
Er, right.
Yes.
I'm in the book.
Dajvey:
*over her shoulder, heading out* And on the feedleash. *waves backwards*
Naboolio:
*sort of watches her go, utterly bemused*