Post by Antony Leigh Perry on Mar 22, 2009 13:22:25 GMT -5
Tony flashed his ID at the doorperson, grinning apologetically at him as the very obviously underage girl behind him started making excuses about how she'd forgotten her license back in her cabin. He'd probably let her in eventually, but what was the harm? They carded before you got to drink, anyhow.
As soon as he stepped fully into the room, slightly awkward in the early evening with its' late-night dance rhythms transitioning from the classy day restaurant to the night club, Tony slipped his ID in his pants pocket and shuffled his nametag to a less obvious position, towards the bottom of the shirt. The entertainment part of his job was mostly on deck, doing little shows during the day, but at night he actually had to work...well, kind of. He was supposed to keep an eye on things in the club, help anybody if they needed it, and make sure nothing got out of hand. The way his boss had phrased it, he was technically supposed to be official at all times...but he wouldn't get punished if he happened to blend in.
Tony compromised, with dark jeans and a black button-up open over his beater - it wouldn't take an army to convince someone he worked there if he buttoned the shirt, but for the time being, he could keep an eye out and enjoy. He slipped behind the bar and tucked his bag out of the way under it, then returned to the floor, sitting on a barstool and sipping a glass of water.
As soon as he stepped fully into the room, slightly awkward in the early evening with its' late-night dance rhythms transitioning from the classy day restaurant to the night club, Tony slipped his ID in his pants pocket and shuffled his nametag to a less obvious position, towards the bottom of the shirt. The entertainment part of his job was mostly on deck, doing little shows during the day, but at night he actually had to work...well, kind of. He was supposed to keep an eye on things in the club, help anybody if they needed it, and make sure nothing got out of hand. The way his boss had phrased it, he was technically supposed to be official at all times...but he wouldn't get punished if he happened to blend in.
Tony compromised, with dark jeans and a black button-up open over his beater - it wouldn't take an army to convince someone he worked there if he buttoned the shirt, but for the time being, he could keep an eye out and enjoy. He slipped behind the bar and tucked his bag out of the way under it, then returned to the floor, sitting on a barstool and sipping a glass of water.
