Misc.

cabaret oc

"Hey!" someone shouted, sharp and clear, hurrying down the alleyway.

The stranger made a run for it before he could deal another blow to the young man desperately getting up. His nose was bleeding this time and his lip was split, tears sliding down his cheeks, just like the night before.

"Get inside." the voice said dead serious, holding an arm around Claus' back, helping them up and back inside the Kit Kat Klub. Claus just saw his feet and the blood dripping from his nose onto the old, dilapidated floors. A door opened, a light turned on, and he was seated in a chair. The door closed.

The person who'd more or less saved them knelt down and pressed a clean handkerchief against Claus's nose.

"Hold that there," they said, and Claus recognized the voice as none other than The Master of Ceremonies.

---

A little while later, Claus fell asleep. He woke with a small start, unsure of where he was for a moment. He lifted his head and looked around the room. It was no larger than a small bedroom, with a desk in one corner with an old, dusty record player on top of it. Adjacent to the desk was another desk built into the wall with a mirror surrounded with lightbulbs that only semi-worked. Next to the mirror was the door, and in the corner across the door was a sort of lounging chair Claus was currently on. 

Emcee was sat in an old wooden chair in front of the mirror taking off their makeup. They looked at Claus through the mirror and noticed they'd woken up, and turned around, smile pursed on their lips, though concern was hidden behind their eyes.

"Guten abend, Liebling. How are you feeling?" they asked.

"Alive. I apologize for imposing, Herr." Claus replied, going to leave. 

"I would ask that you stay for just a moment," Emcee started, and Claus turned, "Let me clean up your face first. We don't want people thinking you murdered someone now do we?" they said, giving Claus a look, who conceded and sat back down. 

Emcee grabbed another clean cloth, dipping it in some water and gently wiping the blood and makeup remnants off of the young man's face. 

"Thank you, Herr."

"Oh for God's sake, just call me Em." they said, rolling his eyes at the professionalism.

"Thank you, Em. You saved my life."

Em didn't make eye contact and re-wetted the cloth, squeezing out the excess water.

"No trouble at all, I hardly did anything," 

"Do Bobby and Vi-"

"Yes they know they're not walking with you, I notified them of the situation." 

Em finished cleaning Claus' face and sat back. 

"There you go, all clean and proper." they said, grabbing a cigarette from the desk. They sat on the chair backward, lighting the cigarette, shaking out the match and waving the cigarette elaborately in the air.

Claus flinched.

Em noticed. 

They dropped their arm and took a drag, blowing out the smoke.

"Did you think I was going to hit you?" they asked quietly.

Claus glanced down sheepishly. He was missing a shoe and the trims of his pantlegs were still soaked with melted snow. The pants went to about his midriff, held up by suspenders that did a very bad job at hiding the fresh bruises that were happily making their home on his torso. His hair, typically very neat and formed was messy and disorderly.