Post by hazelneedshelp on Dec 22, 2019 17:22:37 GMT -7
heres a reupload of the start of my noir dan fic since the first time I put it up I forgot to log in lmao
Detective Dan Mandel walked into the sleazy night club. The smoke of cigars filled the room with a grey fog; the patrons didn't seem to notice, or maybe they just didn't care. The bar and multiple tables were packed with men in suits all holding half empty glasses of scotch. The bartenders wore dark grey vests, the white shirts below showed pit stains. Dan grimaced at it, but paid no mind-- these men work tirelessly, after all, it's not their fault. A stage was to the side; big, bright lights shone down on a large band. The singer stood at the helm, singing and dancing with the microphone in hand. They wore a black suit with red pinstripes, and a red fedora to top it off. The hat hung low, hiding the singer's eyes. Dan couldn't tell if the person was a man or a woman-- their voice was masked behind the rest of the band's backup vocals and their masculine outfit but small, slender frame confused him. Again, though, Dan was here for a reason. He didn't have time to question the... Oddities of this hellish place.
He walked up to the bar, pushing aside a drunken man, and motioned to a bartender. The bulky man rushed over, a dirty shot glass in one hand and a rag in the other. He started cleaning the glass as he stopped, flashing a smile at the detective. He asked smoothly, as though he's done this a thousand times before, and he probably has: "what can I get for you, sir?"
"Whiskey, please." Dan said, fiddling with the collar on his trench coat and glancing at the singer again. He locked eyes with the musician; they grinned devilishly and looked away. Dan gulped and turned back to the bar, where his drink was already waiting for him. He took a long drink from it-- it burned as it went down his throat, he bared his teeth after swallowing it.
"Don't drink much, do you?" The bartender joked.
Dan shook his head, setting the drink down. "Getting drunk has never really been my thing, I'm more of a smoker."
The bartender pulled a cigar and lighter from his coat pocket and offered it, his smile still plastered on his face. Dan politely declined. "You sure? You look stressed, like you could use one."
"I really shouldn't. I'm on the job."
The bartender raised an eyebrow, letting out a small laugh. "On the job, huh? What kind of job sends you to a place like this?"
"The detective kind." Dan answered. "I'm working on a case. Missing person. He was last seen around here, just a couple weeks ago."
"Hm." The bartender replied. "What'd he look like?"
"He's a, uh, tall guy. Over six feet. Light brown hair, blue eyes. Not too bright, but he's got a heart of gold."
The bartender thought for a moment. "Sounds like you knew this guy personally."
"That's not your business."
"Well, I can't say that I'll be much help, the patrons' faces always blur in my mind. But maybe they can help you." The bartender pointed to the stage, to the singer. "Their show ends around midnight, if you don't mind waiting that long."
Dan checked his watch, half past ten. It was a long wait, but he was willing to sit around if it meant finding that man. "I... I guess I'll be waiting then. Could you at least get me something tolerable?" Dan pushed his drink back, the bartender's smile finally faltered as he grabbed the glass and turned away.
"Thank you." A low, smooth voice said, cutting through the club like a knife. The music died down, finally, and the singer looked across the bar. "You've all been a great audience. Regulars, new faces, you're all welcome here. Any time, any day. Luci's Bar is always open to paying customers."
The band members all said their own thank yous as the singer walked off the stage-- and right up to Detective Dan. The bartender immediately brought a glass of some clear liquid to the singer, which they happily accepted. The took the stool next to Dan and pulled off their hat, resting it on the bar. The singer's face was finally revealed. Green-brown eyes and chapped lips, short reddish hair and pale skin. They were oddly alluring.
"He--"
"Dan, right?" The singer cut off the detective. Dan wordlessly nodded, his mouth still hanging open from his almost-greeting.
"How'd you know?"
The singer shrugged, taking a long drink from their glass. "Lucky guess."
Dan nodded again, moreso to himself. "Yes, anyways, I have a few questions for you, about a missing person. He was see--"
"Slow down, Danny." The singer said, Dan frowned at the nickname. "I haven't even gotten the chance to introduce myself, we know nothing about each other. Take it slow, we're in no rush."
"Actually, I kind of am."
The singer continued on as if Dan never spoke. "My name's Hazel. It's a pleasure to meet a detective that's not on my ass about something. Now, tell me about yourself, Danny."
"I have work to do, I don't have time to socialize. I'm here on a missing person case."
"Chris Pearson, right?"
"How did you know?" Dan was, honestly, a bit scared of this mysterious person. They knew things they seemingly shouldn't. Dan felt a want-- a need-- to know more about them.
"I know the name and face of every person to come in or out of this bar. Including your big, dull friend."
"What do you know?"
Hazel smirked. "You like taking things fast, Danny. Since you like being so fast--" The singer paused to pull a card from their coat. They handed it to Dan. "--Meet me, Thursday at ten PM. I'll give you everything you need to know."
Hazel winked and stood up. The finished off the rest of their drink in one gulp and set the glass down. They picked up their hat and left the bar, leaving Dan sitting there, speechless. He looked down at the card, it had an address on it.
"Guess I've got plans then." He said, standing up and leaving the bar himself.
Detective Dan Mandel walked into the sleazy night club. The smoke of cigars filled the room with a grey fog; the patrons didn't seem to notice, or maybe they just didn't care. The bar and multiple tables were packed with men in suits all holding half empty glasses of scotch. The bartenders wore dark grey vests, the white shirts below showed pit stains. Dan grimaced at it, but paid no mind-- these men work tirelessly, after all, it's not their fault. A stage was to the side; big, bright lights shone down on a large band. The singer stood at the helm, singing and dancing with the microphone in hand. They wore a black suit with red pinstripes, and a red fedora to top it off. The hat hung low, hiding the singer's eyes. Dan couldn't tell if the person was a man or a woman-- their voice was masked behind the rest of the band's backup vocals and their masculine outfit but small, slender frame confused him. Again, though, Dan was here for a reason. He didn't have time to question the... Oddities of this hellish place.
He walked up to the bar, pushing aside a drunken man, and motioned to a bartender. The bulky man rushed over, a dirty shot glass in one hand and a rag in the other. He started cleaning the glass as he stopped, flashing a smile at the detective. He asked smoothly, as though he's done this a thousand times before, and he probably has: "what can I get for you, sir?"
"Whiskey, please." Dan said, fiddling with the collar on his trench coat and glancing at the singer again. He locked eyes with the musician; they grinned devilishly and looked away. Dan gulped and turned back to the bar, where his drink was already waiting for him. He took a long drink from it-- it burned as it went down his throat, he bared his teeth after swallowing it.
"Don't drink much, do you?" The bartender joked.
Dan shook his head, setting the drink down. "Getting drunk has never really been my thing, I'm more of a smoker."
The bartender pulled a cigar and lighter from his coat pocket and offered it, his smile still plastered on his face. Dan politely declined. "You sure? You look stressed, like you could use one."
"I really shouldn't. I'm on the job."
The bartender raised an eyebrow, letting out a small laugh. "On the job, huh? What kind of job sends you to a place like this?"
"The detective kind." Dan answered. "I'm working on a case. Missing person. He was last seen around here, just a couple weeks ago."
"Hm." The bartender replied. "What'd he look like?"
"He's a, uh, tall guy. Over six feet. Light brown hair, blue eyes. Not too bright, but he's got a heart of gold."
The bartender thought for a moment. "Sounds like you knew this guy personally."
"That's not your business."
"Well, I can't say that I'll be much help, the patrons' faces always blur in my mind. But maybe they can help you." The bartender pointed to the stage, to the singer. "Their show ends around midnight, if you don't mind waiting that long."
Dan checked his watch, half past ten. It was a long wait, but he was willing to sit around if it meant finding that man. "I... I guess I'll be waiting then. Could you at least get me something tolerable?" Dan pushed his drink back, the bartender's smile finally faltered as he grabbed the glass and turned away.
"Thank you." A low, smooth voice said, cutting through the club like a knife. The music died down, finally, and the singer looked across the bar. "You've all been a great audience. Regulars, new faces, you're all welcome here. Any time, any day. Luci's Bar is always open to paying customers."
The band members all said their own thank yous as the singer walked off the stage-- and right up to Detective Dan. The bartender immediately brought a glass of some clear liquid to the singer, which they happily accepted. The took the stool next to Dan and pulled off their hat, resting it on the bar. The singer's face was finally revealed. Green-brown eyes and chapped lips, short reddish hair and pale skin. They were oddly alluring.
"He--"
"Dan, right?" The singer cut off the detective. Dan wordlessly nodded, his mouth still hanging open from his almost-greeting.
"How'd you know?"
The singer shrugged, taking a long drink from their glass. "Lucky guess."
Dan nodded again, moreso to himself. "Yes, anyways, I have a few questions for you, about a missing person. He was see--"
"Slow down, Danny." The singer said, Dan frowned at the nickname. "I haven't even gotten the chance to introduce myself, we know nothing about each other. Take it slow, we're in no rush."
"Actually, I kind of am."
The singer continued on as if Dan never spoke. "My name's Hazel. It's a pleasure to meet a detective that's not on my ass about something. Now, tell me about yourself, Danny."
"I have work to do, I don't have time to socialize. I'm here on a missing person case."
"Chris Pearson, right?"
"How did you know?" Dan was, honestly, a bit scared of this mysterious person. They knew things they seemingly shouldn't. Dan felt a want-- a need-- to know more about them.
"I know the name and face of every person to come in or out of this bar. Including your big, dull friend."
"What do you know?"
Hazel smirked. "You like taking things fast, Danny. Since you like being so fast--" The singer paused to pull a card from their coat. They handed it to Dan. "--Meet me, Thursday at ten PM. I'll give you everything you need to know."
Hazel winked and stood up. The finished off the rest of their drink in one gulp and set the glass down. They picked up their hat and left the bar, leaving Dan sitting there, speechless. He looked down at the card, it had an address on it.
"Guess I've got plans then." He said, standing up and leaving the bar himself.