(1941-03-22) Welcome Home Wolfy
Details for Welcome Home Wolfy
Summary: After spending several weeks at an Internment Camp, Wolfgang Montague is home and ready to party!
Date: March 22nd, 1941
Location: The Natrix Dance Hall

It is a spring night. The weather is cool and drizzling.

Formerly a restaurant and bar alone since 1850, this building has been remodeled and updated to also include a large dance floor and bandstand and stage. The restaurant still lives in that the white linen draped round tables positioned around the dance floor are catered to the best Saltimbocca dishes in England. The other regular Italian food fare is also deliciously found on the menus in the center of the table that are crystal plaques engraved and frosted so the lettering sparkles in the dim light making the script easier to read. Silver is used liberal in the decoration, the table legs, the chair legs and backs besides the green tapestry cushions are all silver. The styling beyond that is all very modern art deco. Greens and silvers prevailing. The live orchestra always always has a finger on the pulse of the crowd, they pick up tempo or slow things down with amazing empathy.

There are banners and party hats and noise makers and all of the needed supplies for a welcome home party. The Italian Prosecco is flowing like the Thames and the bouncers at the door are being even more particular than usual. So the crowd is particularly attractive and festive tonight. The black-out curtains are three deep to keep anyone going in and out from revealing their location to any enemy planes above. Typical for London at this point there is the distant rumbling of bombings going on somewhere in the East End. It's strange how after months and months of the bombings life just goes on and even goes a bit back to normal. Like people going to a club to dance, bombs be damned.

The Man of the Night is doing his schmoozing thing. Going around and greeting people and accepting everyone's condolences and welcoming greetings. He is in his plum and silver pinstriped zoot suit, a favorite and regular look for him. To the keen eye the suit has a whimsical style on can find in Twilfitt and Tattings but isn't overboard enough to make muggles think it strange.

One of those allowed in is the elegantly tall and pale Oriana Marcone. Her stole has been taken from her, leaving her with the fitted dress in stunning silver while that has been tailored to hug her past her hips only to fall freely thereafter - much like quicksilver. Her hair has been styled to the side and the shoes she wears are a soft hint of a heel to accommodate her natural height. She pauses near the entrance to take in the event and the people attending with a speculative eye, giving a few smiles when she meets a gaze or two. It does not take her long however to find the figure of interest, a brow lifting as she waits to meet his own gaze, the clutch tucked carefully at one hip as a gloved hand traces over the edge of it.

She is a woman of patience, a solitary figure in white standing still amongst the vivacious life moving on around her.

Wolfgang's suite to close inspection might seem a little looser on him than it did when he last wore it for New Years. The purple also brings out the now fading darker circles around his eyes. He's all smiles though and seems to be enjoying the attention. One of his fans pounces him a bit in a hug and after a quick moment of wincing and catching his balance he returns the hug. "Nice to see you too doll…" She whispers something in his ear and it makes his grin wolfish. "I will see you on the dance floor. I promise." He gives her cheek a parting peck and continues on towards the next group. A glint of his favorite color catches his eye however and he turns a surprised expression in her direction. "Oriana." He slips smoothly into Italian, "You look stunning as always. Come all this way from Italy, for my party? I am touched." He pats a hand over his heart as he strolls closer to her.

There is that faint smile perpetually perched upon her lips and all together her. The use of her native tongue causes the smile to grow just slightly before she takes a few steps towards him with his acknowledgement. "And you, charming as ever," she replies in kind, extends a gloved hand in his direction, knuckles offered to him. "Shipped in just for your amusement, but really just to see how you are doing. News travels fast," she makes no direct acknowledgement of what happened but there is a considering once over of him, a steady study before she grips his hand when he takes her's, a light squeeze before she asks. "How are you doing?" Her head inclines and it seems she means to join him whether he asks or not.

Wolfgang searches around for his father, and sure enough finds the head of the Familia up in the VIP lounge looking down. After Wolfgang kisses Oriana's knuckls Pierro turns and walks out of view returning to the Wizard Only portion of the party. Oriana's hand is gladly kept and he uses it to draw her to his side to hook it around his elbow and forearm so he can escort her around. "I hope the 'shipping' didn't put you out too much again. But I am very glad that you came. As for how I am doing, much better now. I have the most beautiful woman from the Axis states on my arm. No doubt this is going to go in my file. So why don't we really give them something to write about. Will you come dance a slow one with me and whisper your top level secrets into my ear?"

Watching his gaze go upwards, there is a keenness to her blue eyes that follow his motions and she affords him a smile, a confidential one with little to do with practiced motions. Oriana easily falls in at his side as the slight train of her dress allows her motions to look all the more fluid. "I could act coy and say you are wrong, but I agree with you on my merits," she muses somewhat and casts a glance aside and nods to those around them, offering hellos faintly before glancing up at him. "You shall make me feel wanting, I fear I have few secrets to impart but I can try to intrigue you all the same." She tilts her head aside and lifts her hand with her clutch, giving it a wave she manages to signal a server who briskly arrives to take it away and likely somewhere it can be retrieved later. "I did not come all the way from Italia to stand and watch you dance with others, I am certain there are even more secrets you can tell me… in kind." The satin of her glove is a gentle promise as it brushes briefly at his hand before she turns slightly, brushing against his side as she whispers her first words. "Pay your father no mind, the decision is still ours."

Wolfgang lifts the satin covered hand up once more to give the knuckles a kiss before placing the hand on his shoulder and then placing his hand on her waist. They are close enough to the dance floor that he leads her in a tango like walk to the center of the floor and then draws her up face to face with a wolfish smile. "When have I ever paid my father any mind? That is afterall how you found yourself in this mix-up. I have to admit, I feared that I would not see you again."

"I was just letting you know that I am here as a friend," she intones. Her eyes flicker upwards briefly before his comment draws her gaze back to her dancing partner. His grin is reflected in a bemused smile that settles across her mouth. "Afraid, no, not likely. Perhaps hopeful you might see me again." Blue eyes narrow to get a better look upon his face before her expression softens. "If you were so afraid you would have come to see me rather than the other way around. And from the looks of it you would be in better shape had you." Her head tilts and the wealth of her flaxen hair slips to rest across the contour of her jaw. Their conversation is being utter in fluent Italian currently as they take part in one of the ballads now being played. "You should, visit home."

Wolfgang pets the satin at Oriana's waist with his thumb and he chuckles at her tease. "At least I sent you flowers, chocolates and emeralds on your birthday. I hope that accounts for something? With the war on, as you know, it would have took me owing my father a favor to travel to Italy to see you. Besides, I didn't know if you'd want me to come. Paying an uninvited visit could have landed me in worser situations that an internment camp. If I only knew this was how to get your attention, I would have knocked a Bobbies Block off a whole lot sooner."

Morgana has done her best to become a frequent patron at the Natrix, however she doesn't get out as much as she would like. Her job does keep her rather busy. But when the rumor of it's esteemed owner would be returning, she could not resist coming out and seeing what sort of party they're going to throw. She's wearing a sleek black dress which off sets her pale skin, and her hair is artfully piled on her head. She wears minimal jewelery that subtly accents her dress. Right now she has one of those glasses of Prosecco that she's slowly sipping on as she watches others schmooze.

"Too much of a good thing, they were lovely, yes," she admits and hmmms, "Well then I will be the one owing for this. I will not be going anywhere now..so let us see if you can avoid anymore attention seeking with the wrong people; though…I think that playing background is not your forte," the woman offers. Oriana's touch is light on his shoulder as a satin covered finger smooths the lapel of his suit. "You will have to tell me in more detail about that encounter..another time of course." Her gaze briefly slips through the club before returning to her dancing companion. "You have me curious though, what else would you do to persuade me to come check in on you?"

Wolfgang gets that wolfish grin again when she asks him about what he might do. He dances them to the edge of the dance floor and snags one of his servers. "The royal treatment for Miss Marcone." The server nods and gestures for the blonde to follow them. Wolfgang disappears into the crowd with one parting wink to Oriana. The server leads the Italian Bombshell to the corner booth, Wolfy's private table. Within no time and as close to conjuring as muggle service can get, there is a bottle of prosecco, and a sampler of their best foods brought and laid out for a feast while she waits for Wolfgang to re-appear.

Lingering where she is abandoned with the server to watch Wolfgang slip away, Oriana follows after her guide. She sees to settling herself and taking her seat with as much outward patience as anyone can summon when left to wait on their own. A nod of thanks as her drink is poured and she appreciates it with a light sip before consenting to more. The food is left mostly untouched, sampling a few bites to eat up the time. The room is the entertainment now, watching the life of Britian under fire unfold in a clothed up night club. Bombs may go off but life does go on.

It isn't long before Morgana is enticed on the dance floor. Her flute is forgotten on an empty table as she is dragged by a ginger haired man whose name she doesn't bother to learn. The music is lively after all and she allows him to lead the dance, at least for now. It is polite after all. The Unspeakable is light on her feet and she wears a smile on her face that does not reach her eyes. She's obviously humoring the gent.

Wolfgang appears up on stage to quite the fanfare. With his trademark wolfish smile and those puppy dog eyes of his he approaches the mic and starts with an upbeat, "Good evening everyone. Thank you so much for coming. It's so very nice to be home." He has a flute of prosecco in his hand that he lifts up. "To King and Country, Bless Britain!" He takes a sip and then in playful tones states, "I am very lucky to have you all, but there is one lady in particular who came a very long way. So I would like to dedicate a song to her tonight. With hope that she'll like it enough to stick around." Another drink is taken, "Be kind, I'm a bit rusty, I've been hanging out in places without very good acoustics lately." He winks at the crowd and adjusts his tie a little. Then he cups the mic and gestures with the flute of bubbly and the band strikes up. Those puppy dog eyes slide over the whole crowd but land on Oriana and stay there for the whole first verse before they start to wander politely again.

The flash of red hair catches her eye during her study of the crowd and Oriana lets her gaze linger on the couple. There is a knowing smile that draws her lips upwards as the blonde studies them in their dance. She lifts her drink to Morgana in recognition for the burden she chooses to carry at the moment. Wolfgang's voice is what draws her attention as he speaks and dedicates the song. She lifts glass to him in salute next, dipping her head to him as she meets his gaze for that verse. When he falls into the role of performer, she allows herself to sit back in her booth before flagging a server over to request something as the song carries on.

Her clutch is brought to her and she sets it on the table beside her along with a smallish box wrapped in gilded paper.

Tall and Ginger attempts to keep a conversation going with Morgana, though she's mostly trying to watch the performance. SHe nods to Oriana as they dance by, taking her pity gesture as best as she can. Ginger doesn't seem to get the hint that the music is to be enjoyed and Morgana finally drops the bomb. While it's hard to hear her voice over the music, it's easy to see that she mouths something that resembles the word unspeakable. That seems to silence the man as they dance, and there is a satisfied smile on Morgana's lips.

Wolfgang croons, "Looking out my window - at the big world that waits outside - for me - to find you - and hold you - through it all. Rain patters on my window - like angel tears from heaven above - look to the clouds in wonder - are they there and are they crying for me?" Patters his fingers down through the air to his cheek and then one finger slides like a tear drop. "Crying - for me - to find you - and hold you - through it all." A little smile is angled toward his table and for the next part of the song he lets his gaze linger there. It does make quite a few of his fans a bit jealous, so it's just not his eyes on her as he sings, "The tears have dried - I step outside - but have no idea where I'm going. All I know is that I must go - or it will be - too late for me. - Too late - for me - to find you - and hold you - through it all." His voice tapers off and the band takes up the instrumental break. Which gives him time to wet his lips with another drink of prosecco. There is a silent communication angled at Oriana, his eyebrows go up and he gives her a smile that asks 'how am I doing at convincing?' in his expression.

The miming on stage causes her amusement to grow even more so, the drink slowly swirled in her glass idly as a brow lifts and she reads the silent communication. Oriana swirls the glass once more and lifts her chin slightly and her her bare shoulders lift, drawing the straps of the dress upwards with them. She sips her drink, a bare bit of white teeth showing as her smile reasserts itself. Fingers play at the edge of the table and she makes a faint motion towards him, as if he to say he is too far away and she can not hear. Delighted by the small interplay, she tips her glass back before pushing it towards the man who waits with the bottle to have it refilled once more, eyes darting out to attempt to find the oddly matched couple only to find the woman now seems more at ease. Another light laugh, sounds, but only for her ears.

Morgana ends her dance, pulling away from her partner and giving her excuses. Slipping off the dance floor the ginger man finds himself another victim while Morgana finds another glass of Prosecco to drain. She does give one final salute to the host before she slips off toward the door. She does have work in the morning after all, and the mystery of hangovers has yet to be solved.

Wolfgang does a little bit of crowd schmoozing. He smiles and gives his chin a little jut towards some lanky giner who looks like he's just gotten punched in the stomach. "A whimpered sound - like puppy dogs in the pound - draws me to lucky seven… Heartstrong Street - You are there - cold and covered in the angel's tears - But there you are, under the awning to - lucky seven Heartstrong Street." A point to the entrance gives the illusion he's gesturing towards the fated awning in his song. "Waiting - for me - to find you - and hold you - through it all." For the last verse the band really blasts and the crooner belts it out, "Yes you are! and yes I do! I have found you! and I will hold you!!" The band halts playing and those puppy dog looks land on Oriana again to accapella croon one list time to her, "Through it all."

Eyes watch as Morgana slips away and Oriana is quickly caught up by the crescendo, her blue eyes shifting towards Wolfgang. Bemusement meets the baleful eyes. The last verse extended in her direction earns him due consideration before she lofts her flute to him before she touches her other hand to her collarbone in acceptance. The edge of her glass is brought to her lips, drinking to the dedication and his performance. The flute is set back down and she presses her fingers to her lips next before lifting her hand and spreading them wide. Her hands are brought after as she claps with the rest of the audience, satin covered hands faintly sounding as she moves. "Bravo," she says, her voice lost in the din.

The din is cut off with sudden 'Ohs!' when there is a subtle shudder that heralds a bomb is hitting a little too close to home. Too close for manys comfort there is the understandable waves and 'so longs' that see the Natrix getting thinned out so everyone can find a Shelter, or just disapparate or floo home if they are upstairs. "Stay safe everyone, and thanks again for coming." He hops down off of the stage and gives a few hugs and hand shakes of those leaving as he heads for the VIP table and the blonde sitting there. "Welcome to London. Do you have accomodations yet? Offer you my guest room?"

The movement of the room with the bomb causing the room to shudder. Oriana hesitates, glancing about as others begin to leave and rising somewhat herself before stilling when he draws near. "Muggles certainly know how to ruin the mood," she keeps her voice pitched low. "Here? A guest room…ahh my dear. What of the bombs, is it unsafe to remain in the city?" The idea of the bomb falling so close has done enough to shake her to a degree. Quickly recovering, she grasps at the small box in its gilded wrapping and offers it to him. "I did not come without gifts. I would be ashamed, especially after your song, I am glad I did. Though, I will accept your offer, a place to stay would be appreciated."

Wolfgang takes the gift and leans in to kiss her cheek gratefully. As he unwraps it he leans in a bit more to whisper. "Unless there is a pitch perfect dead on strike, we will be just fine." Magical wards will keep them safe from everything but a dead on strike by one of the more powerful bombs that aren't created yet. "Like St. Peter's Cathedral in October, everything leveled around it, but a few dings here and there. But we can't let them know that, can we? So it's off to the shelter for them. And up to the luxury of my hospitality for you." He winks and offers his elbow to her to escort her up to his penthouse suite. He has to attend business so after a good night kiss to the cheek he returns back to the club for managerial and Boss Man duties.

The gift is a set of a hand made Venetian glass cuff-links in blues and greens.

"Unless, you are not very reassuring," she notes. Oriana seems to be over her initial surprise. She extracts herself from the table with his help, hand upon his elbow as she grasps at the skirt to pull it aside and allow her to walk easier until they achieve a pace set. "We need to speak when you are able to. Dinner, tomorrow or if you are free, I will be having coffee this evening. I did not come all this way to be serenaded and charmed," she states and with the kiss, obviously meant for the cheek, she allows the briefest brush of corner of her mouth instead, her hand upon his arm gives a light pat in parting. "Good evening," she affords him and closes the door quietly after her.

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