The Musketeers BBC / I can't breathe without you

Clubbing

Hello, thanks for the comments. :D In this chapter we will see what D'artagnan and Porthos are doing in the club. And Anne and Aramis will visit Rochefort again. Have fun to read it. Of course I will post the pictures of the outfits on Tumblr.

D'Artagnan sat on a barstool and inconspicuously watched the crowd. The dance floor was already rather crowded. Usually he was all for a night of partying and he loved to dance, but he wasn't really in the mood to be squashed against an unfamiliar body, so he turned towards the bar. The bartender, a woman of about 30, came over to him. "Hello, handsome, what can I get for you?"

A few strategically placed glass dividers separated the bar from the dancefloor, blocking out most of the loud music, so that D'Artagnan had no problem understanding her.

"Tequila," he answered, using his fingers to show he wanted a double.

"With pleasure, sweetie." The woman turned around to the bottles and grabbed a glass. Meanwhile, D'Artagnan mustered her. She looked like life hadn't always been kind to her, and he concluded that she had been working this job for a good long while already. She wore skinny jeans and a black lace-up bodice with a plunging neckline that afforded a good look at her cleavage.

She turned around again with a flourish that was a little out of place for the time of day – or rather night. "Here you go," she said, placing the double Tequila on the bar in front of him. D'Artagnan just nodded, picked up the glass and downed the contents in one gulp. "Another one," he ordered. The bartender still had the bottle in her hand and filled his glass again.

"What got you so down, shouldn't you have a few ladies hanging on your arms?" she asked, leaning on the bar and giving him a seductive look.

"Oh, the ladies....maybe they'll come later." He leaned closer to her and pretended to slur his words slightly. She immediately fell for it and placed her hand on his arm. "So, what brought you here, if it's not the ladies?"

D'Artagnan picked up his Tequila again and once more knocked it back. "A distraction."

"Well, I can certainly provide that," the bartender offered, moving to fill his glass again. "What do you need to be distracted from?"

D'Artagnan carefully put his hand over his glass. He wanted to appear drunk, but he actually needed to have his wits about him. "Those pigs fired me!" he asked, raising his voice, although he as careful not to create too much of a stir.

"Merde! Come on, have another one on me. Where did you work?" The woman picked up the bottle again, but D'Artagnan managed to distract her.

"For that idiot, Louis. One month I guarded that damn gate, come rain or shine. And now I'm fired, just like that!"

"Oh, for Louis, that so-called king...." The corners of her mouth turned down in disapproval.

"Not exactly his biggest fan, are you?" D'Artagnan grinned slightly.

"Well, he's not exactly welcome around here. Good thing you're out of there. Not many of his security force show their face here. And right now they can't actually go anywhere at all," she said, turning away.

D'Artagnan perked up his ears. "What do you mean?"

"Well, it was probably not your fault that you were fired," she said, trying to drop the subject, but D'Artagnan persisted.

"If it wasn't my fault, whose was it then?" He looked at her questioningly.

"I can't say." The woman looked around uneasily, making absolutely sure they weren't overheard.