[center][h2]When the Night Makes You Numb, Part 2 - (Day 3, Evening)[/h2]
[img]https://i.imgur.com/XD4YybU.png[/img][/center]

A collab between [@Xandrya] and [@Wanderingwolf]

The music slowly dulled. Alana found it odd but left it alone as she took another sip. Most likely, her already empty stomach would not see food prior to her ending her evening.

[i]He finally let loose,[/i] she smiled as Cal made his approach, not wasting half a second closing the gap between them both. "I hope your feet do not tire easy," she leaned in close to his ear as to not yell over the music, her body still moving to the beat of the music with one arm off to the side as to avoid any spillage. 

The way Imani moved near, his neck could feel the warmth of her skin; the way the rest of her flowed to the music, her admonition made him grin. “Honey,” he answered, sour face beginning to thin, “these boots were made for dancin’, and that’s just what they’ll do.” The beat set in deep and strong, now. “If you ain’t careful, Darlin’, reckon these boots’ll dance all over you.”

With another pull on his drink, Cal began to follow the way Imani’s body moved, keeping step but keeping space between them. With a glance over his shoulder, even in the strobing light, he swore he saw a familiar head of blonde hair near the bar. Shaking the thought from his mind, he returned his attention to his companion.

A sudden sharp pain caused her to drop her glass and instead reach for her head. Alana made a fist with one hand and pounded the bartop multiple times in response to the pain, but nonetheless it was persistent. Some of the patrons surrounded her to see if everything was alright, but they had to act quick when the young woman tried to get on her feet and instead dropped to the ground unconscious. They struggled to catch her at first, but then they were able to gently lower her onto the ground. Unbeknown to anyone there, however, Alana Lysanger had officially passed away that very moment from her brain tumor.

“Must be the alcohol talking!” She made a bold move and pushed her body to his while grabbing his drink off his hand. Their faces mere inches from each other, Imani turned to the side to take a sip, all the while she didn’t stop dancing. Since both hands were busy, once she gulped down the alcohol she returned his drink. At that point he didn’t stand a chance. Before he could possibly pull away, Imani snaked two fingers around his waist, eventually inserting them in one of the belt loops above his behind. And that’s exactly when she heard the commotion. 

At first she thought nothing of it, but the alarming shouts became more obvious. The music was lowered and she stopped, looking in the direction of the huddled guests.

Here he was, trying his best to numb the sound of his last words to Alana--to the woman he cared for the most--but the whole scene, this bar, Imani, felt at arms length. He'd tempted fate when he showed her the door and dared her to walk through it. Stubborn as he was, he knew she was even more so. Call it pride or any other fancy Latin term, but it had bit Captain Cal Strand and sunk its teeth in deep. Once it let go, now he's stuck nursin' the wounds his own pride left behind. 

Even now as the sound pulsed in his ears, he was still in the medbay, squared up with Alana. That look on her face, it made the bitterness well up inside him again. The sound of her dismissing him, all due to the thought that he fancied someone else on the ship... The kicker bein' Imani here.

And then that kicker leaned into him, pressin' every inch of their bodies together as they moved up and down to the music. He let her take his drink, transfixed for a moment at the abrupt closeness of someone filling the void. That's when he felt her intentions by way of a hand at the small of his back. 

If he were honest with himself, the feelings of shame conjured by how he'd left things with Alana, and the scenario unfolding right now betixt him and Imani were two sides of the same coin. The intoxicating pull drug him down deeper, but the feeling of falling made him wary. That blonde head at the bar. Alana's lips. Then, that look in her eye when she told him to git.

Shouting brought him out of it, along with Imani extricating her hold of him, her eyes darting in the direction of the sound. They were yellin' for a doctor. Normally, Cal don't stick his nose into situations that don't concern him, but the pit in his stomach drove him forward through the crowd. When it parted, and he saw that phantasm before him, it drove him to frenzy.