goddamngrenades | RP Open Post

"The point of employing me is to ensure that things don't happen, period. And if they do, you don't need to know about it until it's done." Her head shakes at the mention of flash mobs, however.

"You have your own job to worry about on stage." Dropping his hand, she nods to Delta. "See you there in a few hours, then. I'll sign the paperwork at the club." She doesn't need to see it. She trusts Delta not to screw her over in the fine details.

"...That's a little unsettling." But. Okay, whatever, he needs to get dressed and get into makeup and glitter, really? Really. But it's what D has on the docket and if D says it goes, it goes.

So. Clothes. Hair. Makeup. Guitar cuz he does play (a little he doesn't wanna upstage the band or the dancers), Mic on his ear and ready to bust up on stage like a freightrain but-

Is the smoke supposed to smell a little like ether? That's. WEird.

The club is, relatively, secure by the time that the last parts of concert setup is underway. Carolina, for her part, has been prowling all the access points, beefing it up around the upper floors where people might try something stupid.

There's still time for warm ups before the crowds can be allowed in, but the release of smoke on the stage gives her pause. She's been over the routine, knows which numbers are meant to have what, and that's going off way too early.

She shifts her course, taking an indirect route towards the stage.

Yeah that's- way. Way too sweet a smell. He stumbles a little and leans against the support strut for the platform that's supposed to push him forward on stage and covers his mouth, coughing. What the hell is this- "Jerry cut the smoke! I can't breathe, man-"

Jerry, for his part, looks panicked. "It won't shut off!"

Which really is all that Carolina needs to hear. Vaulting the flimsy barrier erected around the edge of the stage, she inhales deeply before vaulting up onto the stage. She's dragging a handkerchief from her pocket as she does so, covering her own mouth as she moves towards York.

"This way," her words are sharp as she reaches for his arm. She'll drag him bodily if she has to.

It's gone from 'can't breathe' to 'really sleepy' in half a second and York is swaying on his feet by the time she gets to him- trying and failing to walk alongside her. It's not easy. Why isn't it easy? Why do his bones feel like jelly? Did someone DRUG his stage smoke? What the fuck?

That he's gone so weak in so short a time is a bad sign, and Carolina's eyes narrow as he sags into him. Her eyes cast about, trying to spot something unusual, something--someone--out of place here.

Then she's half ducking and catching York up, pulling him into a fireman's carry. It means that she can't hold the cloth in place, and holding your breath is hard when attempting this, but she needs to get him offstage. Now.

Can't breathe can't hardly walk and it's moritfying as it is distressing that this is happening in the first place. Out behind where Jerry is trying and failing to shut off the smoke machine there's- someone? In a mask. That isn't a backup dancer.

Whoever was in charge of venu security is so damn FIRED.

The mask registers in the back of her mind, filed to one side as Carolina staggers off the stage with York. Getting him back, getting him clear of the smoke - and where has everyone else disappeared to? Evacuated already?

"Here," she coughs, pressing the cloth she'd been using into York's hand, hoping he can keep a grip on it. "Cover your mouth. I've got you."

And she'll keep carrying him until they hit one of the side exits - though she does stagger against the wall, trying not to fall or drop him. She couldn't completely escape whatever drug was in the smoke, and her own muscles are beginning to protest. "Water. Now!" is barked at one of the roadies, who promptly disappears to fetch.

Evacuated and scattered. Someone was mentioning technical difficulties and no one knew why he wasn't on stage yet, the opening act was probably still in the green room and all these little things were floating in the back of his mind as he tried to breathe, tried to keep his fingers around the handkerchief she'd pressed into his fingers. He manages. Somehow.

Just the one figure in a mask that seemed to be trying to follow them. It wasn't a stage hand, wasn't a dancer, and wasn't someone that should be back there.

Landing wasn't easy but it didn't need to be- he sags against the wall, sucking in clear air and trying to blink the blur from his eyes. "Not- not suppost'da-"

For the moment, under the overhang that lead down one of the exit corridors and out into a dark alley, keeping him somewhat upright was more important than immediately checking her six; Who knew what kind of injury he could do to himself by falling, hitting his head?

Only once he's breathing through the cloth, somewhat steady if slurring, does she try and steady her own breathing. Then turn slowly, at the sound of someone else's approach, already high on alert.

Masked figure gett'n real close for his sense of comfort. He shoves himself against the wall, behind Carolina- she's his bodyguard, she saved his ass, he's pretty sure she will continue to save his ass and this guy-girl-whatever could suck it. Delta was also gonna get some WORDS later. What the hell is this?

"This area is off limits," she informs the stranger calmly, aware that York has put himself out of the line of fire. He might be taller than her, but right now, the slumping helps keep him out of direct view.

She waits. But if he-she-they approach further, she'll stand her ground. But any other action, any sign of weapons being drawn, any sign of a charge, will be met by a flash of movement - Carolina, springing forwards, moves in to disarm.

They don't answer- and that's what's creepy. They don't talk they just. Linger. Lunge, even, and York is not prepared for this shit.

Carolina, however, is, and the figure struggles to bring up a- is that a tazer? That's a tazer. What the fuck.

Her hand snaps out, moves to intercept the arm trying to wrangle that tazer, even as her left foot lifts, then slams down, attempting to drive her heel down against her opponent's instep.

The other knee then ends, snapping up to collide with his middle.

She doesn't look back, doesn't look at York. Eyes forward, concentrate on your foe. Hopefully he won't get it into his head to attempt to help her or that might end badly for someone.

York knows damn well to keep out of the way- besides. Watching Carolina disarm and pretty much destroy whoever was coming for him, for them, is kind of. Hot? Really hot. Very hot. God damn. The guy loses the tazer and pretty much folds in half under the rest of the assault.

It's only the lingering daze from the gas that keeps him from applauding. Cuz. Damn.

See. Doesn't Delta always make sure to have the best available?

Only once the stranger falters, falls, does his arm get twisted around and Carolina uses his downward momentum to pin him to the ground, pulling his arm up behind him. There's enough of an impact that the mask may well fall off, but for the moment, she settles for reaching for the tazer with her left hand, only glancing up at York once she's certain her target is secure.

"..You good?"

"Yeah. I- you?" He's still muzzy and probably will be for about ten to fifteen- but she got him out of there before shit got real. That shit was starting to get real at all is disconcerting as hell.

Jesus christ.

"....gonna have to cancel the show, huh?" No way D'll let him back onstage after this security breach.

She's saved from having to reply right away by the night club's security team and the police showing up. Only once she's certain that they have him in hand does she let go, handing over the tazer before walking straight to York's side. Her? "I'm fine," especially compared to him, and instinctively, she moves an arm around his back, support and guidance for getting out of this alley.

"We'll get you checked out first," is her reply, brows furrowed. "Then we'll worry about other arrangements once we're sure whatever was in that teargas won't have any last effects."

"You or D gonna tell me what in the ever loving fuck this was about?" Because this is about the time he feels like he should be filled in. A little. A lot. Hell he doesn't even object to getting checked out- just goes where he's led. Even keeps his arm around her waist instead of trying to cop a feel.

Carolina is solid and strong and warm and he doesn't have to worry about keeping an eye out while she's around. He'll take that. "Smelled like rotten vanilla. Is that normal?"

She stops at his question, looking up at him with an unreadable expression that creeps slowly into annoyance - and not necessarily with him. Very much with the situation. "You honestly don't know." A statement, not a question, and her lips purse a moment, before she sighs and looks ahead. "Once we're secure."

Not before. Not when you don't know who's listening.

She'll lead him to where-ever he needs to go, until she makes him stand with one of the security guards outside the tour bus, personally checking the vehicle-home until she's happy with what she finds. Or doesn't find. "In," she informs him, offering her arm again, before grimacing at his question. "No. That usually indicates a custom job. Someone didn't want you dead."

"No, I do not. Enlighten me." Normally he'd press. He'd bug. He'd wheedle till he had an answer but- he trusts her. She's been nothing if not honest with him and that? Well. He can take that.

Secure. Okay.

He goes where he needs to. Gets himself checked by a medic. GOes to the tour bus and waits outside till she motions him in. THen- slides up inside, locks the doors, and grabs himself a coke from the fridge. "Alright SO they don't want me dead. What do they want, and what hasn't D told me?"

She's texting as he settles himself with a coke. Better soda than a beer, particularly as they haven't had the results of the breathalyzer test yet. Only once that's done does she sit herself on the leftside couch, opposite York.

His colour's returning. That's good. It eases some of her own worries, unhappy as she is to have missed the containers that must have held the replacement smoke. But he's alive, and safe here, and the perp is in custody. Delta is handling the particulars there.

"For the past few months, there's been an increase in threatening fan mail addressed to you." No preamble. Right to the point. "Threatening words. Escalating in content letter by letter. The record company seemed to think it par for the course in this business. Made sure to approve an increase for security, but nothing more." Her lips pursed. "Delta did not."

"I am one of the most inoffensive pop rock singers on the circuit right now. I've deliberately and blatantly taken no stance on any political or religious- anything. I have NO opinions on the record about anything!" Which is the opposite of how he actually feels but there's him and then there's work him. Work him exists to entertain people, not to use his celebrity for good. That way lies micromanaging and madness. "The hell are they threatening me for?"

"People make decisions and choose targets for a reason. Just because you can't think of one doesn't make you immune to that attention." She doesn't tend to use the word 'crazy' any more, when it comes to people like this. Reaching into her coat, she pulls out some of the folded printouts that Delta had given her this morning. Copies of the letters - that she now offers to York.

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