(no subject)
:No, I'm fine, Dad.:
He's going to get yelled at for this later, and he doesn't really care. And it will be later, too, because experimentation over the last few months has proven that not even his father can get past an aluminum foil hat.
Admittedly he feels fucking stupid like this, and kind of like he expects Joaquin Phoenix from that old movie to show up and start swinging a baseball bat around. But what the hell; it's effective, and that's the important part.
Ezra glances out the window. Cetara's calling for her Johnny again; Johannes, meanwhile, is completely ignoring her. Like usual. Honestly, he likes the city much better like this. It's at least three times quieter, without all the psinoise. Possibly a city as crowded as Amsterdam wasn't the smartest place to go, to get away.
On the other hand, it's not like his dad's going to come looking for him physically, someplace like this. And more importantly, it's time to get ready for work for the evening.
Nice to keep things quiet, and so he keeps the stupid hat on, as he reaches for his eyeliner. Cetara's yelling is almost melodious, today, at least compared to normal. It's a pleasant change.
Eyeliner, and just enough lip colour to make it look-- quite falsely-- as though he'd spent the afternoon being kissed rather thoroughly senseless. Or maybe other stuff. Whatever they want to believe, it's up to them, and rather instructive when they get particularly loud.
Besides, generally the music's loud enough he can ignore everyone else anyway. And the club is very strict when it comes to enforcing the "no touching the dancers" rule.
About the only place he could get a job where that would hold true, for that matter. Makes it worth keeping this job, and not being late to work, which is why he dresses quite quickly, pushing his hair back out of his face while he grabs his jacket.
Nobody gets a free show, after all, if he's going to manage to keep this apartment to himself.