It's a Tuesday night, a weekday, but that's only done a little to quell the usual crowd at Slaughterhouse Five, and while the sun only set less than an hour ago, the nightly party is already in full swing. Even from the street, the pounding, pulsing beat seems to vibrate through the walls and fill the air, and the smell of fresh paint wafts freely outward. There's barely any wait tonight at least; the line is all of four deep at most and shuffling cheerfully in about as fast as newcomers arrive.

The moon is small and certain Galliards really don't care what day of the week it is; can't be wasting those opportunities to go out without certain kin getting all worried about potential bloodbaths, tch. Felix actually even has a GOOD fake ID, which makes up for Lilah not having one at all, right? He's cheerful enough that a stranger might suspect he's already had a couple -- which is probably true, but not actually making a difference -- and has managed, somehow, to drag Justin along with them, as well.

Nicodemus has been here before many times, but not in several years. Still, the lay of the land seems to be largely the same--and the bullet holes patched over--between the then and the now. Only the crowd seems to have changed, and that's always changing. He's got a plastic cup in one hand, having imbibed a little bit already, and is standing not too far away from one of the club's many massive speaker systems, being pummeled by the sound pouring out of it and seemingly savoring the sensations. The liquid in his cup oscillates from the rhythmic sonic energies. Anyone close to him and paying attention might notice the flesh-colored foam earplugs in his ear: it seems he came prepared.

It seems that the Ahroun has an ID, but seeing how Val keeps talking about this place being a hot spot for minors and illegal activities, he was pretty sure he'd get in with the twenty in his pocket instead. As he follows along Felix and Lilah, Justin is wearing a fishnet see through shirt under a olive colored military jacket. Loose black pants with holes torn at the knees and combat boots complete the rest of his apparel. "I don't know how I get dragged to these things."

Earplugs schmearplugs! Lilah's all about this music, as she leans up against Felix and grins over to Justin. "Admit it, you wanna spraypaint as much's we wanna dance." She bumps her hips up against Felix lightly, trying to throw him slightly off-balance, for the heck of it. She's wearing a shiny silver top with a pair of faded jeans. The silver's clearly faded over time as well, but it's still serviceable.

Salem enters at the heels of a group of teenagers not that much older than he is, though they're all much more weirdly dressed, every one with grey-painted skin, candy-corn colored horns, and shirts with zodiac signs on them. The Homestucks make a beeline for the nearest graffiti wall, giggling over inside jokes and memes, while Salem lingers not far from the door, acclimating to the atmosphere. He's dressed more or less as he usually is, jeans and hoodie and tshirt, a kid aiming to be out way past curfew.

Felix laughs at the bump, counter-bumping Lilah in revenge. "I kinda wanna spraypaint, also," he says, "but yeah, you know she's right. Plus, c'mon, who doesn't like music?" He flips his ID to the bouncer unconcernedly, getting the bracelet, and then heads inside, already moving in time to the music escaping from the place. He doesn't have any earplugs, surely shocking no one. But hey, werewolf eardrums probably regenerate anyway. He pulls Lilah along with him by the hand; Justin will have to follow on his own recognizance. It helps that a good half the crowd tends to make space for them, at least.

Dancers flail to the beat at varying degrees of grace (average grace displayed: very low) and whatever motions they feel like. The teens that enter with Salem are hardly the only ones weirdly dressed; in fact, there are quite a number of utterly bizarre costumes on display, though no one seems to be giving them any attention. The current DJ is bopping his head to the beat as ferociously as anyone on the dance floor, with his slightly shaggy hair--dyed brightly blue--swinging back and forth where it isn't restricted by the earphones or his sideways turned baseball cap. Lights flash in a dazzling display, blue, green, red, blue, white, and a number of party-goers are already clustering at the spraypainting wall as well, busy at work. Among their creations, prominent, as large and tall as any one person could manage, newly painted in fresh green, is a large, recognizable spiral glyph.

Once they step into the world of danger and electricity, Justin takes a deep breath of the chaos around him and fills his ears with the sound of pounding rage through subsonic harmonies and powerful bass. There is only a moment of uncertainty in his eyes before he gives in to the rush of adrenaline that spikes through his veins. With a laugh, he bumps his shoulder against Felix's other, then throws a fist upwards to the sky for a quick pounding. "No, I want to dance." He growls out in the pit of his throat. "And fight."

Lilah grins broadly to Justin's reaction, and doesn't seem to mind being counter-bumped-- though it does nearly make her lose her balance anyway. "I knew *you'd* wanna spraypaint, but so do I. I just wanna dance slightly more'n I wanna spraypaint." A pause. "But only slightly." But before she gets down to dancing, she gets distracted watching some of the colorful costumes on display.

Some guy, appearing to maybe in his mid to late twenties, approaches Nick and offers him a greeting lost in the noise. The two seem to know each other. A few words are exchanges as they alternate between leaning in and speaking directly into one another's ears. Then, like that, they've parted. Nick stays where he was by the speakers and the man drifts away into the crowd. It's about this time that, disrupted from his reverie, Nick notices a few familiar faces in the crowd--nodding to them if/as lines of sight connect.

Salem doesn't have near the height advantage he used to have, but the Curse still makes people give him some space so he can move through a crowd (even if he can't really see over it). His exploration of the club stops soon enough, though, when he spots the giant green spiral glyph on the graffiti wall. He grimaces. "Shit."

"Fuck yeah!" Felix exclaims to Justin's declaration, giving him a broad grin and a fistbump, and he glances around the place as they head deeper in. Apparently he recognizes a few people around as well, greeting them with that grin and a lift of the chin, including Nicodemus. He turns his head toward his companions, possibly intending to point him out to them, but gets cut off by a dark-haired, definitely drunk (or maybe high) girl in a minidress and deelyboppers throwing her arms around him. "Hey, hi, you!" she exclaims exuberantly, and gives him a kiss, all of which seems to startle him as much as anyone. So returning it is probably just automatic from surprise. "Oh, hey! ...Emma, right?" he says, putting hands on her waist to move her slightly away, "Nice seein' you again. This's Lilah," he gestures to the kin, "and Justin." The girl beams at both of them. "Hi! Oh, wait, there's my boyfriend. Bye!" She runs off again, and Felix looks after her with a somewhat bemused expression, at least until her path makes his view cross the spraypainting wall. "...shit," he unknowingly echoes Salem, and looks over to Justin, "Check out the wall."

The DJ continues head-banging as more people trickle in, sometimes while leaning over his control panel, sometimes while leaning back. As the current music (or 'music' as some might argue) reaches a lull, he grabs the nearby microphone and pulls it towards himself. "Helloooooooo, St. Claire!" he calls, to screams and cheers that are loud, but still have to compete with the rhythm from the speakers. "It's a week night, you're not home?" Laughter and jeering. "You're not studying?" More laughing. "Not getting ready for a big day at the office?" The jeering gets louder. "Well good! We have got a special night for you, ahhh...right!" he turns a dial just as the music starts up again, pounding, pulsing, a different track that's decidedly more frenetic than the last, in a good way.

The dancers start up again with enthusiasm, although a few peel off toward the bar. Near the entrance, a tallish man with a piggish nose approaches the bouncer and leans over, murmuring something to him. The bouncer scowls, and responds--still quiet, but he doesn't look happy. A woman bumps against Nick in passing, departing for drinks, it looks like.

"Hey man, save some babes for the rest of us." Justin says with a look of amusement as the drunk girl ends up gives his packmate some affection. Blowing a kiss to Lilah in a teasing manner, he winks. "Hey, if you get lonely Lil' .." Though when the attention of the spiral on the wall is brought to his eyes, he stares at it for a long moment, the pushes away from his friends, making a beeline towards the graffiti walk like a shark in an ocean of blood. Snatching up a can of black paint once he reaches the wall, he gives it a few shakes, then looks to cut loose against the green symbol of the enemy.

Lilah doesn't even raise her eyebrows at Emma, but she does lift a hand to wave, right about as the woman heads off. "I ain't lonely," she says distractedly. She's watching Emma as she goes, and she's still watching her, barely noticing anything else until she hears that 'shit.' She blinks, a bit startled, and shifts her attention to the wall at Felix's prompting, swallowing. Justin heads off, and she looks to Felix for direction, it seems.

Felix. Bumpy woman. Drink in hand. Felix. Direction of Felix's look. Glyph on the wall. That's the path of Nick's gaze as he stands still by the speaker. He looks elsewhere, across the club, and begins picking his way in that direction--as if he spotted someone he knew. It's not headed towards Felix and his crew, though. Not directly at least. Not yet.

Salem doesn't spot Justin so much as the effect the Ahroun has on the crowd as he storms through it toward the glyph. Cursing steadily under his breath -- most of it in English for once -- he makes his way over one of the tables surrounding the dance floor and, heedless of the desires of the couple currently using it, climbs up for a better view.

Felix starts to take a step after Justin, then looks to Lilah. And then a glance at the wall, and another around the club. "...go to the bar, get a drink, okay?" he says near her ear, "But where I can see you." He squeezes her hand, and then heads after his packmate.

"Hey!" snaps one of the spraypainters as Justin sprays a black line through the large green spiral. "The fuck are you doin', man?" He abandons his own can to make a snatch at Justin's, but ends up grabbing the Ahroun's wrist instead. "You got a beef with truth?" Another one of the spraypainters, somewhat more distant, glances over to the two of them, but then goes back to her own work with some noticeable nervous shifting. The man with the piggish nose and the bouncer continue talking, although the bouncer is looking increasingly irritated by whatever is being said. The couple whose table Salem has, err, co-opted both make irritated protests. "What the fuck, kid?" "Get down!" but neither seem particularly inclined to do more than that. In fact, they both scoot their chairs back from the table itself. Meanwhile, the DJ is back to head-banging with the best of them, which lasts until the woman that bumped Nick, a thin brunette in some particularly shear club-wear, moves up onto the stage and leans over, her mouth moving. The DJ stops, bending an ear to the whisper, still grinning as he surveys the crowd with a slow, lazy gaze.

As his wrist is grabbed, the beast is sparked in the Ahroun as he whips his head towards the other and /SNARLS/ in his throat, followed by a open palm slap of his hand against the other's chest, activating his gift of falling touch while yanking his other arm away. Have a nice trip, see you next fall. Turning back to the painting, he looks to finish the job. O-H-N-O-! will be sprayed across the green spiral if uninterrupted.

Lilah nods to Felix, and wastes no time in starting toward the bar. No one parts for HER, so she (most likely often) has to politely tap someone and say, "'scuse me," as she makes her way toward deliciousness. She's carefully not watching Felix or Justin, not at the moment anyway.

"Sorry," Salem says off-handedly to the couple, sounding sorry not at all; he's too busy surveying the club. Justin's graffiti'd retort makes the halfmoon grimace for some reason, but he's looking around for other persons of interest as well. His gaze lingers over toward the bouncer and friend, as well as the DJ booth.

Nicodemus picks his way across the room, sidestepping the occasional dancer, drunk, or combination of both. He glances towards the minor fuss over by the spraypaint wall, then towards the exit, and then pulls his cell phone out to poke at it momentarily. Texting. It's a thing.

Felix leans down and snags a can of red paint when he reaches the wall, watching Justin and the other painters fairly closely for a few moments, and stepping out of the way when Justin's hand goes toward the guy -- he knows what tends to happen, after all. He sprays the wall as well, below Justin's and across a lower part of the spiral -- nothing fancy, just your traditional anarchy symbol. It's surely not the first the wall's seen.

The guy topples backward under the Gift's power and hits the concrete floor hard, sending his own just abandoned spraycan rolling into the crowd. "What the fuck, what the fuck man?!" It's loud enough to be audible to those within about six feet, and a number of dancers stop to gawk over at the potential altercation. A few even shout, "Fight!" but the call is mostly lost in the sea of throbbing rhythm. Over by the door, the discussion between the bouncer and Piggish-nose has clearly escalated into an argument, and while words can't be made out, their aggressive body language can.

The DJ leans back away from the woman in shear and leisurely reaches for the microphone again. This time, he stands up, one hand reaching out to twist another dial as he does so. The music gets much quieter.

"Hey, St. Claire," the DJ drawls. "How're you feeling? Good? 'Cause it looks like we got ourselves a show!" He gestures grandly over toward Justin, Felix, and the fallen spraypaint guy. "I think someone's not feeling the rev-o-lution toniight." And now, everyone turns to look, most of the faces looking blank and confused, although a few scowl when they see the work the Coyote pack is doing on the large spiral.

Lilah reaches the bar at last, and puts herself in a position where she's pretty easily seen. She doesn't take a page from Salem's book and climb onto the bar, but she's standing and probably visible from a bit away. "Can I get m'self a--" and she breaks off at the sound of the DJ talking, as much because it'll be hard to make her out as because she wants to hear what's said. When the DJ's said his piece, she turns back to the bar, requesting an energy drink as calmly as she can.

Nicodemus finishes his text, turns slightly, and moves to exit. He's going at a fast walk, frowning, and half-looking at his phone. For all intents and purposes, someone probably just got bad news from work or his girlfriend. Or boyfriend. That's kosher these days. And he passes through the door and disappears outside, where he breaks into a jog for his car, gets in, and starts it up.

Swallowing down the rage that rumbled upwards from his stomach, Justin takes a dizzying step to one side, then steels his focus once again as he finishes his 'art' across the green spiral, followed by a pair of Mickey Mouse ears in place of the dot on the exclamation point. Rats have been here. He gives a glance to Felix, then turns to the crowd as his fingers tighten around the can of paint. His dark eyes stare back at the crowd in silent challenge, sizing up those who may have an itch for an assbeating. Then, with another glance to his packmate, he surges forward with confidence in his step as he looks to aim back towards the tables they came from, lobbing the can of paint behind him with a backwards swing of his hand. It clanks against the wall and tumbles to the ground.

Salem, still atop the table, spots Nick just in time to see the mage leave, though this concerns him less than what his Gift is telling him about certain personages in the club. And what's going on at the graffiti wall -- though Justin moving away from said wall seems to bring minor relief. Jumping down from the table, he angles toward the Gnawer Ahroun, weaving through the crowd and trying to keep an eye on the DJ booth.

Felix glances toward the DJ when the music goes quieter, and the remarks get a fleeting narrow-eyed look that melts immediately into a wide grin, something in his stance shifting in a way that somehow not only acknowledges now being 'on stage', but suggests that's exactly where he belongs. "Got our own revolution!" he replies, the lower volume letting reasonably-trained projection be heard for at least a fair distance, and he uses the red can to spray a very fast heart on the nearest bit of wall that wasn't just painted, "It's a dance dance revolution! Anyone can join, all you gotta do is move." Which is, admittedly, fairly silly, but he's not even close to above using supernatural assistance to persuade the crowd it makes sense. And since there's still music, even if it is quieter, he breaks into dance, then, tossing the can toward the wall and dancing on after his packmate. Thankfully, he's quite a good dancer. Surprising how often that's been coming in handy, actually.

<OOC> Felix doesn't expect it was too subtle, but totally using Persuasion.
<OOC> Justin says "Combined with Coyote powers. XD"

Not a few in the crowd shrink back immediately from Justin's stare, and most of the others look away fairly quickly. It's after the spraycan hits the floor that the first "booo!" sounds, but in this crowd it's hard to tell who it came from. A few more follow, and then someone shouts "Fucking sellout!" followed immediately by a few more, less coherent sneers. "Drone!" is the next one that's able to be made out. A different voice: "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Still grinning faintly, lazily, the DJ brings the microphone back up to his mouth. "Heeey, conscientious objector. What's up? We're all believers in the Freedom of Speech in the old U S of A. You got an issue with freedom, man? With truth?" He flashes teeth at the crowd as his grin briefly widens. "Don't be shy. None of this matters!" A few people in the crowd echo, "None of this matters!" as if it were a cheer, but it can't be more than three or four voices. The woman in sheer clothing hasn't stepped down from the stage; she's hovering in the back, watching. The bouncer breaks off from his argument with a scowl as he hears the calls, but as he starts to move toward the dance floor Piggish-Nose grabs at his arm.

"That's nice, man," the DJ says to Felix, though it's not clear if he means what the Gnawer says, or his dance moves. "But things're a bit more important than dancing these days, eh?" Murmuring in the crowd. Not a few are staring at Felix now though. "Are you gonna dance away while the /bankers/," the word carries sting, and his voice raises just enough that the murmurs get a bit louder after each punctuated word, "and the /politicians/, and the /plutocrats/, and the /oligarchs/ steal your future? You gonna dance for them, man?"

Rocking his shoulders back and forth to loosen them up, Justin continues to jerk his gaze left to right against the crowd as he continues walking forward. The names shouted at him bounce off his forcefield of ego. He has been called worse. As he spies Salem, he glances over his shoulder to Felix to catch his attention, then tilts his head to the Philodox as he changes his direction to meet up with the Adren.

Lilah pays for her energy drink, and then turns to watch the DJ with interest. Juuuuust another patron here. She only turns to look at Felix when he's calling out, and she tries to keep her expression fairly neutral. His exhortation to dance has her bopping her head to some unheard sound and starting to sway her hips. The DJ's reply, however, makes her bite her lower lip, and though she keeps moving her hips, her gaze is shifting back and forth between the two parties. It's like television!

"Three of them," Salem mutters to Justin once he's caught up to the Ahroun. "The DJ, the woman who was talking to him, and pig-face over by the bouncer." He frowns up at the Gnawer. "I smell a trap, and we need to leave. Now."

"Nah, man, I'm gonna dance 'cause they can't fuckin' STOP me!" Felix yells, and the supernatural assistance aside, there's a sincere fervor in there that seems like it'd be hard to fake. Justin's glance gets met, enough that it was surely seen, but he's not in a position for subtle semi-exits right now -- and hey, attention on him isn't on them right now, right? "Dance 'cause there's some shit they can't steal 'less we let 'em. Dance 'cause it pisses 'em off when they can't control us, dance 'cause when they're tryin' to crush our spirits they won't see us comin' up behind 'em, dance 'cause it fuckin' =matters=," there's a emphatic chord in the music, and he stops on it, striking a vaguely Saturday-Night-Fever style pose, finger pointing at the DJ, "And dance 'cause this is a FUCKIN' CLUB an' that's what we came here to do! What kinda shitty DJ ARE you?"

Outside the club, Nick gives his Suburban the beans, but not enough to spin the tires; that'd just be inefficient. He steers the car, pulling out his Kindle Fire and powering it on as he does so, and then whips the car into a free parking space nearly a block away. He then makes a few taps and swipes at the Kindle's screen, easily pulling up the video feed and assessing the situation from his new vantage point.

There's a moment, half a second in fact, in which the DJ doesn't respond, just looks at Felix. Then he rocks back with the mic. "Alright, /yeah/!" As he comes out of the motion, he reaches for the dial and turns the music volume back up, louder than before, almost painfully so even for those used to clubbing. "Fuckin' dance!" The microphone isn't set aside as he starts bopping to the music again, but the unpleasant spell seems to have been temporarily broken as people get back to what they were doing, the frantic energy that was building still hanging thick in the air. A few dark looks are still shot Justin's way, though most of the crowd seems to have forgotten him. The bouncer struggles against Piggish-Nose's grip, and reals back to hit him, but a yank from Piggish-Nose sets him off balance enough that his fist hits the wall instead.

"Yeah? Is that why the music sucks?" Justin mutters to Salem, then glances over to pig-nose who is giving the bouncer shit. With a flare of his nostrils, he rumbles out. "Sure, we can go, but I got the itch which means I'm probably gonna do something even more stupid." His eyes track back to Piggy, then to Salem with a jerk of his head. He is still aiming for the entrance, fairly sure that Felix will give Lilah some sort of head's up.

Salem bares his teeth in frustration. "Do you want to /die/? Because that's how you die -- stupidly, uselessly, walking headlong into a trap."

Lilah can't help it. She eyes Felix the entire time he makes his stand, and she shoots him a ridiculously fond look before remembering herself and going more neutral, more distant. She even shoots the DJ a grin while he pauses for that half-second, and after. Let him think she's on his side. She winces at the sound of the music being turned back up, and something about HIS calling for people to dance does not set her at ease.

Felix punches the air, and does in fact continue dancing as the music goes back up. He dances in the general direction of Justin and Salem, and after a minute or so, when he figures there's probably not that many people paying much attention to him anymore, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and sends a quick text before putting it away again.

You text to Lilah: thought-bubble person-walking person-walking person-walking door, B warning-sign. kissy-lips.

"/Fine/." Justin says with frustration in his voice as he continues to storm for the exit, popping the collar of his jacket, teeth bared.

Nicodemus cocks his head slightly as he eyeballs his Kindle Fire's screen and then minimizes that window. (Do Kindle Fire's do that? This one seems to.) He opens a new window, focusing hard upon it, and making some rapid taps and swipes with his fingers. His foot depresses the gas pedal slightly, despite the car being in park, revving the engine as it burns through more gasoline than is necessary to idle a car.

Mid-Trance track, the speakers suddenly crackle for a moment...and something new starts playing, something decidely off-menu for this place. Dancers stop, looking confused, and the DJ jerks his attention from the departing Garou to his control board. He can't be heard, as he doesn't speak into the microphone, but anyone who can lip read might get 'what the hell?' out of how his mouth moves. Just as he leans over, it becomes clear that Justin Beiber's 'Love Me' has started playing. There's scattered laughter, enormous boos, and incredulous 'what the fucks?' abounding. No one is paying attention to the Garou group now, except, perhaps, that woman in the sheer clothing, who frowns slightly toward the door, and gives the most miniscule shake of her head.

If she's intending that for one of the two brutes near the door though, neither one get it. The bouncer twists around and cracks Piggish-Nose in the jaw, a motion which brings them to half block the exit. Those leaving can probably still get out, but they'll have to physically push past the space that's left.

Lilah watches the DJ, still swaying her hips, and then reaches into her jeans to pull out her phone. She reads it, smiling faintly, and then sets her energy drink down, having not even taken a sip. Wasted money, Lilah! Tch. Her phone is put back into her pocket, and she begins idly threading her way toward the exit. Once again, she has to tap people politely as she tries to make her way out. The Curse would come in handy, times like these!

Outside and nearly a block away, the Suburban's big block V8 strains noticably despite going nowhere. Engine trouble maybe? Nick keeps an eye on his Kindle Fire, watching the video feed from the club as the situation seems to be defusing and the DJ appears appropriately humiliated. The second window, currently streaming Beiber, gets a new addition: Nickelback's "Rockstar." The next tune queues up timed perfectly with the DJ's efforts to abort Beiber. It's just not that DJ's day.

Does Salem want to try to push his way past a fistfight that involves one (1) human and one (1) Garou of unknown ability and power? Salem does not. He continues moving toward the exit, though more slowly and indirectly. If he had hackles, they'd be bristling.

The music changes get an incredulous look from Felix, even as he heads toward the others by the door, and a definite snicker at the DJ's expression. It's nice that one doesn't have to know what schadenfreude is to experience it! He tries to keep track of Lilah as subtly as he can, corner of the eye, and adjusts his trajectory so that he ends up approaching the exit from a good handful of feet behind her.

As he continues to head for the exit, Justin watches the pair tussling and starts to make a wide berth as he snags a beer bottle off a table he passes. Sliding the neck into his palm, he shifts his jaw a bit in thought as he looks to sneak past them with only a bump of the shoulder if he has to make any contact.

<OOC> Sheogorath says "No beer bottles I'm afraid (I wouldn't nit-pick, but someone else was looking to use one earlier. :). He can snag a plastic cup of beer though!"
<OOC> Justin says "Hmm. No type of glass bottles of any type? Soda?"
<OOC> Sheogorath says "You can ask Val, but I don't think so. Safety thing I suspect."
<OOC> Justin says "Ok, we'll just edit that part out. He just wouldn't have grabbed anything."

"'Scuse me. 'Scuse me." Lilah continues making her very polite way to the exit, occasionally able to benefit from passing in Salem's considerable wake. She doesn't aim to directly follow any of them, of course, but sometimes, their paths are just going to coincide like that. As she goes along, she keeps an eye mostly on where she's going, not looking at the DJ or any of the others.

The DJ visibly swears and kicks one of the speakers as the music switches, and the scattered laughter practically turns into howls, including jeers and general booing. He looks up, blue-dyed bangs somewhat in his eyes, and looks straight at Piggish-Nose. His grin doesn't reach his eyes now, and it quickly fades.

Piggish-Nose, on the other hand, abruptly stops fighting with the bouncer, who takes the opportunity to clock him again. "Get the fuck outta here!" the bouncer snarls, with a heavy shove toward the door. "If I see your ugly-ass mug around here again, I'll have the cops drag you out." And for all that Piggish-Nose seemed entirely into the fight before--and still looks as though violence is foremost on his mind--he actually does step out.

Salem gives the DJ a final look before heading for the exit like he's decided that he really does care about his curfew after all. And anyway the music does indeed suck in this club tonight.

Felix may be as amused as anyone about the current turn in the music, but even with the new stuff he ends up moving to the beat. Hey, he came here to dance! And drink, which, as he realises while passing through the dancefloor-adjacent tables, he hasn't. At all! He snags an unattended plastic cup of beer off one of the tables to rectify this, drinking it while he goes. Piggish-Nose's ejection gets a faint furrowing of the Galliard's brow, and a fleeting glance toward Lilah, then the door again, where the others do seem still to be heading out...

"Vvvvvvvvvvkvvkvkvkvkvkrunk-a-krunkita-krunka-krunka-krunka," goes the Suburban's engine as, indeed, it did appear to have some kind of engine problem and just threw a rod. It's not likely long for this world. Nick utters a few choice curses, puts the car into gear, and limps it away from the scene.

Taking the point and out the door first is Justin once piggy is ejected. He breathes in the cold air and cuts in whatever direction the pigfaced guy doesn't. If he goes right, then he goes left. If he goes left, then he goes right. He sticks close to his pack though, Salem too who is now an honorary coyote for the next couple of minutes.

Lucky Salem! Lilah taps one more person on the back and politely asks to be let past. And then? No one else is blocking her path. She heads on out, and vaguely in whatever direction Justin heads in. She starts humming that Bieber tune, apparently having no sense of style.

As it turns out, Piggy, so dubbed, doesn't actually go anywhere. He's only a few feet outside the door, just standing there, and he blatantly eyes those exiting with a distinctly unfriendly gaze. The man's built, but his face is doing him no favors, and it looks like, this close, he's got a distinct underbite going on.

Meanwhile, the music in the club returns to its normal loud, pulsing beat.

Salem moves quickly past Piggy and away from the club, not looking at the big man. He moves briskly, down past another building and ducks into an alley. Once out of view, he stops and concentrates, looking upward.

Felix exits the club at his usual saunter -- although it still happens to be in rhythm with the music escaping from the club; he may not be able to help that without trying -- sipping his drink as he follows in the others' general wake. Piggy gets a fleeting glance, but nothing more than anyone else he passes appears to get.

Once out, Justin takes a look at piggy, long enough to study his face, then heads down the sidewalk after Salem. His hands are shoved into his pockets now, walking with an air of confidence and swagger of one who owns these streets. As he spies Salem looking upwards, he glances up as well. "Whatcha looking for?"

Piggy watches them all leave, a silent, dour onlooker, until he's lost to sight when the club itself goes out of view. The throbbing beat follows them for longer.

Lilah keeps humming that Bieber song as they move, apparently knowing it to what *should* be an embarrassing degree. Once they're out of view of the club, she angles to be a little closer to Felix, though still not so close that she can't deny him three times if it comes to that.

"I'm watching him," Salem says, still looking upwards at nothing in particular. His gaze is unfocused and vague. "He's... just standing around outside. Probably keeping a lookout." The Glass Walker frowns. "The DJ's probably still inside, but I didn't see where that woman who was talking to him went to."

Once out of Piggy's sight, Felix grins toward Lilah, and dances a bit to the residual throb, doing a turn that ends with offering her his free hand as they hit the entry of that alley the others have ducked into. "So," he asks the two higher ranked Garou as he joins them, "do we got any sorta plans yet?"

Salem shakes his head slightly. "Pass their descriptions around and let people know that they're hanging about the club and still up to that Spiral Revolution thing. And next time, be careful about going near those glyphs, because they've been known to be rigged to trigger frenzies." He pauses. "I wonder if that DJ's been advertised. Find out what name he goes by."

Felix whips off a light salute, two fingers toward his temple and flicked away. "I can do that. Both of that. Piggy dude and the DJ, I assume, an'... that chick that was talkin' to him? Anyone else? An' what IS that Spiral Revolution thing?" he asks, and pauses a moment to drain the rest of his cup, tossing it into the nearest dumpster. Handy sometimes, being in an alley. "'cause fuck those guys right in the ear, but asshole ain't wrong about the politicians an' bankers an' shit."

"Dancers setting off riots -- /bad/ riots -- and then attacking local Septs under cover of chaos," Salem says grimly, still staring up at... nothing. "They tried it here once, but one of ours got undercover online with the civilian portion of the movement and helped defuse things. We had a few protests, but nothing serious." He blinks and turns his focus back to 'here', grimacing and rubbing his eyes. "I have to make some calls."

"Gotta give the fuckers some credit for actually managin' to get people off their asses," Felix mutters, and stretches. "A'right. I'll get that DJ's name an' start lettin' folks know when I can catch 'em. Night, man."