attitude | my body is a cage that keeps me from dancing

Owen's mobile buzzes in his pocket, and there's a moment after he pulls it out and notices the unfamiliar number that he's about to tell whoever's on the other end to sod off. But it doesn't take more than a second for him to place the voice on the other end and to remember the incident in the alley with the shapeshifter.

He did tell Faye to give him a call, didn't he?

He hasn't got much going on today, so why the hell not?

"Five minutes," Owen replies, though it's mostly a guess. He's got a general idea of where Obsidian is, but he's never actually been inside. He reckons all of that was probably more Jack's thing. Maybe. Christ, he really doesn't want to think about it.

Still, he heads in the direction of the club, and it's only about six and a half minutes before he's inside, searching about for a familiar face behind the phone call.

Having stared at people entering the club for a good while, it's not hard for Faye to weave her way through the crowd, hardly raising anyone's attention before she yanks lightly on Owen's arm, smiling at him. Hoping that she can convey well enough with one look that he should at least pretend to have been looking for her. Lessen the suspicion, not that there's necessarily any to begin with.

She's dressed the part tonight in dark leather, but all of muted. Not a lot of spikes and chains or anything too characteristic of someone trying hard.

"Glad you could make it," she murmurs, tracing her fingers down the back of his neck, lacquered garnet nails settling by his jacket. "Come on. I've been waiting."

She grabs his hand, leading her behind him until they're in one of the quieter halls.

"So I know that there are probably a lot of people around here wearing sharp teeth and looking the part just for the feel of the place, but I'm pretty sure I caught sight of a young man with very distinctive wounds on his neck, looking pale. Kind of hard to fake."

He's played the part before; it went along with the job in Cardiff. It's been a bit for him though, ever since the bloke who'd been kidnapping Weevils for fights, so maybe he's more rusty that he suspected he'd be. Owen follows her back, away from the crowd to a slightly more private area, but manages to take a second of appreciation for Faye's choice of outfit tonight. She may just be playing a part to avoid suspicion, but that doesn't mean he's not allowed to look.

At least for a moment, before she starts in on just why she's phoned him.

"Right, so. Vampire," Owen says, keeping his voice low just in case anyone does happen to pass by. He manages a quick glance over Faye's shoulder.

"So which one is it? Any idea yet?"

With her midriff bared, Faye steps closer to Owen, keeping her lips carefully positioned by the side of his neck as she reaches for his hand, carefully dragging it around until it's splayed across the small of her back. She's careful to keep all of her movements instructive, leaving her as the one with every semblance of control. Just seems easier, she thinks, and there's a subtle hint of satisfaction that she gets from getting to boss Owen around, anyway.

"It's a woman. Alarmingly red hair; looks kinda like it came out of a box," Faye says, turning Owen slightly until she has him backed against a wall, mostly to give him the chance to look around while he's pinned. "Do you see her? I think she was occupying one of the back rooms, but I just saw the guy leave, so either she's cleaning up to leave, or she's waiting for someone else. I thought..." Faye trails a lacquered nail down the center of Owen's chest. "Maybe a handsome guy like you could be the bait."

She leans back, a little too much amusement in her eyes, in spite of the calm of her expression. "What do you think?"

Faye leans back, but Owen's hand is at her hip and he pulls her in again, partially because he's not done with the conversation, and partially because he's not entirely used to being the one taking orders.

At least not from anyone but Jack.

"And who's to say you can't be the bait?" Owen asks, lips very near her ear, his voice low as he surveys the crowd for a shock of red hair. At the very least, she's made this easy; most of Obsidian's clientele seem to favor darker colors all around.

Christ, it's predictable.

"You're the one dressed the part, after all," he adds.

To anyone watching, it's undoubtedly obvious that they're planning something. Though, in a place like this, it's anyone's guess as to what. Plotting to hunt down a vampire's probably somewhere near the bottom of the list, Owen's certain of that.

She lets out a soft huff when she's pulled in again, slightly rankled by how this does go against the plans, if only for a moment. Holding his gaze, she smacks his hand, then carefully wraps her fingers around his wrist, doing her best to push both of his hands against the wall. Her nose presses against the shadow of his cheek, lips so close that they leave a slight trace of her lipstick on his skin, just to ward off any suspicions.

"Dress for what part, Owen?" she hisses, kicking up one of her feet for emphasis, with a long, steel-tipped heel and zipped all the way up to her thighs. "I'm dressed as a dom, and she's also a dom. Unless being tied and chained up makes you nervous?"

Leaning back, she offers a challenge in the raise of her brow before she tugs on his jacket, until it hangs off one of his shoulders.

"Don't worry. I have plenty of collars you can choose from. I'm sure we'll find one that's comfortable."

"Alright, easy Disco Boots," Owen says, and there's a grin on his face, even then, "No need to get wound up."

And as much as Owen hates to not have had any say in just how they're going to about this, he has to admit that Faye has a point. He can make all the girl on girl jokes he likes, but that doesn't change the way all this works.

Still, he didn't exactly expect to be out this evening chatting up a vampire as bait. It's not that he can't or won't, he just thinks he's likely a bit rusty with all aspects of this.

He's about to open his mouth and say something cheeky about her collars comment when a flash of red over her shoulder catches his attention.

"Spotted," he says through his teeth, "at your eight."

"Oh, but that's half the fun, getting wound up," insists Faye, who leans forward to press her lips briefly against Owen's cheek before reaching back behind to grab his ass. Because, why not? Not that Faye knows all of the etiquette behind a place like this one, but she's pretty sure that the no hands below the equator rule wouldn't fly.

Besides. He's got a nice ass. Figures.

Getting down to business, Faye spins both of them briefly around, grinning up a storm as she pulls Owen close and gets a look over in the direction he mentioned. Tugging sharply on the belt loops of his pants, Faye nods almost imperceptibly.

"That's her, all right. So, I assume what you do is go on over there," she says, glancing at Owen again and wrapping her hand briefly around the back of his neck with a coy look. "Is go over and be your very best submissive self. You'll take this."

She reaches up for one of her earrings, tugging it off before sliding it neatly into his pocket. "It has a button on the side. Press it, and I'll come storming into the room. Unless you think we need to be more subtle with our approach?"

"You are definitely going to pay for this later," Owen says, and maybe he hasn't known Faye very long, but he does know that he's not too wild about being the bait in this plan. Especially when it involves what he's about to have to do. "Five minutes. Tops."

He heads off in the direction of the red head, not bothering to straighten his jacket first, instead taking it off completely. He's not sure why, it seems like it'll probably go better that way. At least, as well as this sort of thing can go. It's likely not as simple as offering to buy her a drink; something more like asking what he should drink might give off the right sort of vibe.

As much as Owen hates to admit it, he wishes Jack was around for this one.

Still, it's not long before he's headed back to one of the rooms with her, trailing behind and playing the part. At least for now. Just as soon as he finds the opportunity, he's sending the signal.

She waves as he retreats towards the back of the shop, allowing herself a light little laugh as she turns on her heel and lets her gaze skirt across some of the others in the room. There's no one she's willing to waste the time with, not wanting to leave any more tracks than necessary, but she can't deny that the power feels good as she stands tall, then sprawls across one of the couches in the lobby.

A few minutes later, she gets the signal, smirking as she pushes off the couch and walks... maybe not as quickly as she could.

Because there's no way he's sending that signal from the brink of death.

When she kicks the door open, gun pointed at the redhead and a sharpened stake under her belt, Faye almost can't contain a laugh. Because there are definitely fewer clothes on him than before.

And a lot more rope involved.

"I can't remember the last time I saw shibari being used on a man," she remarks, not breaking gazes with the woman, who's turned now to look her in the eye. And is way, way too calm about the gun to be an average human.

"...laugh a bloody minute," Owen mutters under his breath, catching the way Faye almost laughs at him. Next time, she can be the bait, if it's so funny.

He's managed to only end up with one arm tied up, stretched up and over his head. His shirt and jacket are both somewhere across the room, but he'd managed to move the earring to the pocket of his trousers before they'd gotten too far into it. He may be a bit rusty at all this, but he's smart enough to know that both hands bound means he won't be able to call in the calvary.

Next time, he's definitely going to have a weapon on him, because this is just a sad state of events from his end of things.

The redhead though, she's even less pleased about the situation than Owen happens to be as she turns to face Faye.

"And just what the hell is this supposed to be?" she asks, though she doesn't make a move just yet, doesn't raise her voice. Owen wonders for a moment if she's just playing with them and they've underestimated things.

"It's about that guy I saw coming out of your room with a very peculiar set of injuries that he didn't go in with," Faye says, standing her ground, her expression no longer laughing. "You really think you're going to get away with that without people noticing?" The truth is, though she's done her best to prepare going in, all of the leads and resources she's read on vampires have been so varied that it's almost like trying to protect herself against a blank threat. Who knows if she's on the right trail?

It's about building intuition, but Faye knows she's far from the best one. And in her peripheral vision, she notices that Owen's a bit more trapped than she was hoping. Maybe she should have barged in earlier, but for now, she's not allowed to regret her choices. Only make the ones best for the team.

So, shooting a brief look in Owen's direction, Faye reaches down to her thigh to unsheath a dagger, throwing it hard. Her aim is good, but she's careful to throw in a direction less liable for error, off to the side of Owen's free arm. The worst it might have done would be a nick to the thigh. Fortunately, it sinks into the wall, well within his reach.

Unfortunately, the moment's distraction gives the woman a chance to rush up to Faye, knocking her off-balance and quickly pinning her against a wall. "Nothing wrong with that if he agrees to it," she breathes, and from this distance, Faye gets a clear view of those canines, long and tapered to a sharp point, almost like the fangs of a snake.

Owen's set to work on trying to get his hand free just as soon as the redhead's attention's mostly on Faye. He's having a bit of trouble with the strap and can't manage to loosen it. At least, not without drawing attention to the fact that she's about to be a bit outnumbered.

Trying to free himself, he looks away from the scene for just a second, eyes snapping back when the knife whizzes past him to sink into the wall. It's not a second before he's grabbing it with his free hand, reaching up to cut at the strap and free himself, a bit of it left there on his wrist like he's making some sort of horrible fashion statement.

In the same instant, Faye's overtaken, and, dagger in hand, he lunges across the room to charge the woman from behind, pressing the cold metal of the knife against her throat.

"Might want to rethink whatever you were about to do," his voice low and threatening, though for all he knows it's an empty threat. Because fuck knows how resilient these things are to injury.

The breath is knocked directly out of Faye as she slams back against the wall. The woman doesn't have a typical human's strength, and Faye's about to tell Owen as much when suddenly, a hand slams against her neck, cutting off air. Fortunately, Owen's made good use of his time, coming over to press his dagger against the vampire's throat. Before he quite finishes his threat, there's a sizzling noise in Faye's ears, and the hand around her neck rapidly lets go.

"How dare you?" the vampire screeches, even as her knees start to buckle. Faye coughs to regain air, but keeps her eyes fixed on the woman as she tries to elbow back against Owen's body, but with far less force than she was using only a moment ago. From the looks of it, Owen might even be able to keep a good grip on the woman all on his own, even before Faye quickly steps up with a sharpened stake to press in warning against the woman's chest.

"Silver blade," she explains, glancing up at Owen. "Can't say that I paid legitimately, so we might have to sneak it back to the real owner before sunrise tomorrow, but I figured all the better to be prepared, right?"

"You bitch," the vampire grits, even as she howls in pain with the knife being brought further against her skin.

"Good thinking," Owen says to Faye, admittedly impressed. Though he's angry with himself for not having done the research that he should have done before this. He might've brought his own silver knife, if that were the case. Or at least, he might've kept one on him, just in case he got a phone call.

He doesn't let up, though he does take two steps back, bringing the woman with him to give Faye a bit more room, so she's not pressed against the wall anymore. The blade continues to sizzle against her skin, and Owen's tries to place what it might smell like, but is having trouble with it. It's burning flesh— he doesn't even want to think about how he knows what that smells like but just a bit different.

"And she might be a bitch, but you're the one on the other end of the knife, sweetheart," he says to the vampire, then looks up at Faye. He's not entirely sure just how long he can hold on here, so it'd probably be best if she got on with it.

There's something incredibly satisfying about having Owen praise her for the forethought, especially after he'd been so skeptical of her knowledge in their last meeting. Even though most of his assumptions were true — that Faye hadn't been in this line of work, that she was inexperienced — she knows that she can be a decent learner when she's pressed to it.

Having a taunt on the tip of his tongue only emboldens her further, a cunning grin on her lips as she draws back an arm and pounds it against the blunt end of the stake pressed to the woman's chest. It's not easy pushing wood through flesh, but Faye manages it before too long.

Only to watch in horror as the woman seems to quiver and melt between them before suddenly splattering in every which direction, walls streaked with red.

Of her mouth, as well as the room.

"...what the fuck."

"Shit!" Owen shouts, and all at once, the redhead has turned liquid and, he's completely covered in blood and whatever else is left of the vampire Faye's slain. He's a doctor and he's used to all manner of gore, both human and alien, but having it all over his face and clothes and in his hair is another matter entirely.

"Was it supposed to do that? Did you know it was going to do that?: he asks, wiping blood from his face with his palm. It comes away in one bloody glob, falling to the floor in one congealed piece. The only consolation is that Owen's shirt and jacket are on the other side of the room and likely aren't as completely covered in it all as he is right now.

"Would I have decided to go after a vampire first if I knew it'd do that?" Faye asks incredulously, and maybe she isn't being half as calm as she should be as a hunter, instead shuddering and stamping on the ground as she tries to brush off as much of the gunk as possible. Which isn't much, considering how it sticks to her, stringy bits drawn across her skin. "More than ever before, I've learned the meaning of regret."

Trying her best to keep the nausea down, Faye wrinkles her nose and continues trying to pick bits and pieces off of her body, spitting down on the ground as well to rid her mouth of the decay, before glancing up and finally settling her gaze on Owen himself.

It doesn't quite make up for the mess, but the look of him makes the sting a little softer.

"Pfft," she snorts.

Owen's not exactly up on his folklore, but he doesn't think he's ever read anything about this particular consequence of driving a stake into a vampire's heart. He thinks he remembers something about people supposedly decapitating them and being sure to rebury the pieces away from each other, but nothing, nothing about this.

"Well this is a fine fucking mess," Owen says, and at least his mouth was closed when it all happened, so he doesn't feel like he's gotten any in there. Thank God for small consolations.

Still, though they've set out to do what they intended-- even if it didn't happen in a way that either of them predicted it would-- there's the matter of getting out of Obsidian without being seen. Not the easiest thing in the world to do when you're covered in blood.

"You don't need to say that twice," Faye says with a sudden shudder, stepping away from the mess and noting grimly that the only positive she has is the fact that the outfit she's wearing was bought for the occasion. It's a loss of cash to toss it out, but it's nothing she would have worn on a regular basis, anyway.

"Do they have a shower in here?" she asks, wrinkling her nose as she notices the smell, metallic and far too rancid for something that only just died in front of their eyes. "Do we even try to clean this up? There must be tracks and fingerprints everywhere."

A glance back down at the mass of dead vampire shows that it's still bubbling and liquefying. "Is it even illegal to kill vampires in Darrow?" she asks suddenly, brows furrowed. "It's not like that looks especially human."

"Can't really kill something that's technically already dead," Owen hypothesizes, though he doesn't know the law in Darrow for sure. He does know that the people there seen pretty alright with ignoring these particular bits of the supernatural though, so it's probably a fair guess.

He walks over to his clothes and picks them up, notes the blood on his shirt. At least he's got the option of closing his jacket. The black leather won't be as horrible with the blood if he manages to get all the chunks off.

Jesus, this is fucking awful.

"How about you be the one to head out and ask the staff for a mop, bucket and a couple of scrub brushes, then?" Owen says, wiping his face off with his shirt.

"Technically, but her mind definitely seemed as alive as either of us," Faye points out, starting to tug open all of the drawers in the room in hopes of finding something to change into. Unfortunately, most of them seem to be filled with toys, restraints, any number of things that Faye imagines they would have started using had she not barged in at Owen's signal.

"Ugh, maybe we can sneak out the back," groans Faye, finally finding one with a length of cloth that she's pretty sure is intended for use as a blindfold, but that has enough absorbency to serve almost as a towel. "I don't know, what do you think? Can we even make a claim of self-defense? Actually, shit."

Her eyes dart up at the corners of the walls, quickly scanning.

"Don't they sometimes film stuff in places like this?"

"Don't think they'd be doing much business if they were filming inside the private rooms," Owen reasons, though he knows that the main area's another matter entirely. Truth is, he's not too worried about all that, mostly because he knows that Tosh should be able to wipe out whatever footage they've got of the two of them in the system. At least, if they're not completely backwards and use tape or something.

With a city like Darrow, fuck knows.

Owen starts to pull on his shirt, but decides against it, putting on his jacket instead and zipping it shut. He wads his shirt into a ball and stuffs it into one of the pockets.

"Back door." he says, and hopefully it's not rigged to a fire alarm.

Glancing up at the top of the door that leads out of the room, Faye doesn't see any hint of an emergency exit trigger, so she nods and pulls her jacket more tightly around her chest.

Unfortunately, it doesn't cover the full length of the boots that she has laced up to her thighs, but against the black leather, she'll just have to hope that no one casually walking

around will notice the blood quickly congealing on her clothing.

"C'mon, we'll look less suspicious this way," she says, looping her arm easily around Owen's and holding him close as they slip through the doorway. In spite of all of the snafus from

earlier, she's finally feeling lucky as they slip out without too much notice.

All things considered, aside from the gunk that they left in the room, they've done pretty well for themselves.

"So, how bad was I for a first time?" Faye asks, raising a brow.

He tries not too look too conspicuous as they make their way away from Obsidian. it mostly involves trying not to look around them as they walk, so he doesn't look like someone trying to get away with something. It's a different sort of thing, considering how they were able to waltz in and out of situations like this with Torchwood. Christ, they'd come into one crime scene to find their name smeared in blood on the wall and hadn't had to lay low because of it.

Once they've taken a few turns, Owen feels a bit less like someone might be trailing them; he feels like he can finally take a breath.

"Might want to give me a bit of warning next time, if someone's going to have to be tied up," he says, but other than the mess they've made, the potential for someone tracking them down for it, and his ruined shirt, it wasn't a half-bad outing.

Once they're a couple of blocks away from Obsidian, Faye lets herself breathe a big sigh of relief, air rushing out and rising in the cold air as she grins and holds tightly to Owen's arm for just a moment. He has his own daily life to get back to, as does Faye, but there's something a little unforgettable about staking one's first vampire together.

"But it's so much more fun when getting tied up is a bit of a surprise," she jokes, patting his shoulder with a slight huff of laughter. "I mean, you could have guessed when I asked to meet at Obsidian. Or, you could just get used to missions with me being a little more... fun." Her smile broadens, before she loosens her hold on his arm.

No point in getting overly sentimental.

"Do I get to escort you home tonight?"

He's considered it. It'd be a lie to say that he hasn't. But he's a male, so Owen reckons that it'd be wrong for him to not consider it with her wearing leather and holding him in close, even if it was a part of their act. Even now, he's tempted. Maybe she doesn't mean what it sounds like she means, but even so, Owen's not unconvinced that he couldn't turn all that around in the end if he wanted.

But the first thing that comes to his mind is Tosh. It's weird, because he's not used to it, especially not in instances such as these. Already, he's toeing the line with all this, and even just inviting her back for a beer probably wouldn't go over well.

"Think I can probably make it alright on my own," Owen replies, though there's nothing bitter or hostile in his tone, "Took out a vampire already, so I think I can manage anything else between here and there."

my body is a cage that keeps me from dancing

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