[February 15th, the Catscratch Club]

[turnthebadinme]

Spotted: Nate Archibald, birthday boy extraordinaire. When in doubt, it's been said, turn to the local strip club. It may not exactly be tea and cupcakes or dinner at Socialista, but with the alcohol flowing and friends around, who cares? I'm sorry, was that sappy? Call me nostalgic, but put these Upper East Siders in a club and I just know all my

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[lonewolflives]

She had to keep reminding herself not to get comfortable in the dress. Rosalind was comfortable in dresses, Arya wasn't. It was just that usually the easiest way to keep them apart in her head was the clothing. When Arya ended up dressed like Rosalind it got tricky.

Still, she was passing off any slips as interest in getting to see the inside of the strip club. Which had the benefit of being true, she was.

And, against anything she might have thought some time ago, she did actually like the crowd in attendance. Well... most of them.

[alethioliar]

"You're you, aren't you?" Lyra would have poked her in the side, but instead she sort of slouched with a drink perched in one hand, Pan comfortable enough to linger at her feet, gazing up at everyone with beady-eyed interest.

It was, indeed, a strip club. She figured it would have been more exciting if actual pieces of clothing were being shed, but she did feel a certain satisfaction at having made it inside the supposed den of moral decay.

[lonewolflives]

"Rosalind doesn't know these people," Arya said, absently, eyeing their surrounds. "Probably wouldn't set foot in a strip club, anyway. I don't see what the problem is, it's just naked people."

[alethioliar]

Lyra rolled one shoulder, the muscle there smarting beneath the red fabric of her dress. "There's supposed to be something exciting about the stripping part," she allowed. "But I don't see the appeal."

[dickgout]

This was probably one of the most uncomfortable things to ever happen to Jason Stackhouse. Other uncomfortable events that compared were: being tied to a bed overnight, finding out his girlfriend was into kidnapping pudgy vampires, and of course, that time Sookie read his mind while he was jerking off.

But here he was, in jeans and a white button-up, trying to look cool and like he belonged-- like he wasn't being out-classed by a bunch of kids. And trying to pretend he wasn't spending time thinking about tumbling Jenny into bed.

On the other hands, secrets were pretty hot.

Jason took a long drink, and leaned against the bar.

[learnwhatsreal]

When she caught sight of Jason at the bar, any thoughts she'd had of how awkward this might have been went out of her head. Jenny grinned as she approached -- casual, still, with the number of people around, but pleased all the same -- and taking a seat beside him, ordered herself a martini.

"So, good party?" she asked brightly, biting her lower lip as she turned to look at him. "I still can't believe the bar they have in this place."

[dickgout]

Sookie is gonna kill me.

I had better think of something to blackmail her ass with.

There were about ten different things that Jason wanted to do, most varying on touching her, but he knew better than to get branded a sex offender in front of the kids. Even if most people would argue he was with his mental equals.

Or, he thought, looking at their fresh, preppy faces, his betters.

"It's a good party," he agreed. "I can't believe they're serving you guys. I would have walked across the state to get here at this age."

[learnwhatsreal]

"Really?" Jenny asked, honestly a little surprised. Maybe living in New York and keeping the company she did had spoiled her, but none of this was too out of the ordinary for her. "It's pretty easy to get served underage in Manhattan, you just have to know where to look." She shrugged. "And I'm pretty sure people don't really care about age here, anyway."

Of course, it wasn't just drinking she was talking about with the last sentence, but she wasn't going to make too much of that here.

[filmstarbeauty]

The last time time Blair Waldorf had been in any sort of strip club for any sort of reason, she'd end up taking part in the show. Sure her track recond hadn't been squeaky clean and the Catscratch Club was nothing like Victrola but she had decided to play it safe rather than sorry. There was nothing wrong with that; after all a girl could get into a lot of trouble when wasn't looking.

Dressed in skinny jeans and a spangled tank top that was just the right sort of trashy, which there was don't let anyone tell you otherwise, Blair was mingling and fully content to enjoy celebrating Nate's birthday. At least celebrating that in that strictly friend sort of way.

[turnthebadinme]

Serena was cutting herself off. There may have been a right sort of trashy, but it didn't usually involve one of the hostesses being trashed, so she was busy nursing a big glass of water when she made her way over to B, later on in the evening. She knew her limits, and while that had once just meant knowing when to keep going beyond, tonight she meant to be good. Pressing a quick kiss to B's cheek, she looped her free arm through Blair's. "Unless someone breaks into a fistfight, knocks down a wall or gets someone else pregnant in the next hour or so, I think we can officially call tonight a success."

[filmstarbeauty]

Turning her head to look at S and then at the rest of the crowd, Blair gave a slow nod, a smile spreading across her face. "I am pretty certain that if someone manages to get pregnant in the next hour, then we can still call it a success as...that's just a freaky."

There was no way that the success of a party that she had helped throw and thus her entire track record was going to be thrown out the window because of someone's freaky fertility levels.

[turnthebadinme]

"They can't pin the blame on us," Serena joked, playfully prim. With the record of Upper East Side parties, though, she wouldn't have been wholly surprised if something happened. It sometimes seemed as if something always did. If they could get through this night without any incidents, it would probably be their biggest success yet. She just didn't want to say so aloud, partly out of a superstitious desire not to jinx it, silly as that made her feel, and partly because she knew full well who had caused most of their prior disturbances, and he wasn't there to do it now.

She softened, smiling, nudging B with her hip. "Been having fun?"

[neverlanded]

This was a momentous sort of thing, at least Wendy was going to pretend it was. Putting it up on that shelf of carefully created memories full of firsts and things that ought to be remembered, she supposed her first proper, somewhat inappropriate grown up party was one of them. Not that she had any intentions of advertising the fact that sorts of birthdays she was used to celebrating were much quieter affairs.

Having found a perfectly lovely dress and done herself up in a way that she had seen others do, she felt confident that it was going to be perfectly all right. Smile on her face, she was simply determined to enjoy it and enjoy it well.

[one__song]

Roger was, for all intents and purposes, tending bar at an Upper East Side party. There was something just so, so wrong about that. He'd spent so much time avoiding these people, snubbing them before they'd have a chance to do it to him, and here he was, serving drinks in tiny glasses and waiting on these fucking people...

But Serena had asked him, and the way she smiled, it was pretty much impossible for him to say no. So there he was, jeans as artfully torn as his pride, bearing his tailored Sex Pistols shirt. If he was going to be waiting on these people, he sure as fuck wasn't going to look like them. Also, he was pretty sure he'd promised Serena a dance. And she spoke highly of Nate, so why not jump on in. If it got bad, he could get drunk and pass out behind the bar.

A lull in alcohol requests came, and Roger leaned against the backbar, bobbing his head to the music.

[forhawkeye]

Of course I've seen Rent. I mean, who hasn't seen Rent? It's not my favorite, but it's still a little cool to see Roger Davis tending bar, even if he does stick out like a sore thumb. Not that I can blame him. If we were back home, this is about the last place I'd find myself, too, and I grew up in the Upper East Side.

Sitting down at the bar, I plop both my elbows up on the counter and rest my chin in my hands.

"You must really like Serena," I say with a smile.

[one__song]

As soon as the girl began to approach the bar, Roger was in help-the-customer mode... which really wasn't too much what it was supposed to be. Whereas anyone who had worked in customer service and given a shit about it would push off the bar and put on a friendly smile, maybe even chirp happily, he remained slouched against the back of the bar, eyes and chin raising to her, but virtually nothing else. Well, save for the corners of his lips.

"What makes you say that?" He asked, defenses swinging up. She didn't look like she meant anything ill or was mocking him too much, but he'd been virtually daydreaming and was caught off guard. Not to mention Serena seemed to have some kind of animalistic effect on men, and he was constantly irritated to discover he was no exception.

[forhawkeye]

I look down pointedly at his Sex Pistols shirt and then back up again until I can meet his eyes. "I'm the World's Greatest Detective," I deadpan, drumming my fingers lightly against my cheek. I wait a beat and then, suddenly, I'm grinning brightly. "Okay, so I'm not. Still, it doesn't take a genius to figure out that you don't exactly want to be here. Which means that someone asked you. And, since I happen to know that one of the organizers of this little soirée is one Serena van der Woodsen, chances are that you're doing this as a favor for her." I tilt my head to the side and I add, "But if I'm completely off base, I'll get out of your hair, promise."