It seemed that one Lucy Mitford was set on going out on the town to celebrate the dawning of the new year. She was so fired up about it that she informed Fin he would be accompanying her. The Scot didn't really have any other plans so he capitulated with a shrug and a smile. It was implied that Ketch would be roped into this, as well, and Lucy later informed the Scot that she extended the invitation to a few others, as well. The floodgates had been opened - the more, the merrier.

Lucy talked her into going, even though she didn't want to tag along as it might be a bad idea. It actually ended up being a good idea. She found an appropriate outfit and went to meet up with Lucy.

"This is it." Flashing her under the jacket. "I'm not wearing heels. I'd fall on my face."

She left with Lucy that night to who knows what kind of adventure.

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"You can lean on me any time you want." In fact she sang a few bars of lean on me. What may or may not have surprised Lucy is Etain could sing. We're not talking just shower singing or one hit wonder, we're talking siiiiiiinging.

"Nice to meet both you." She said to Fin and Ketch.

Once they were at Lucy's favorite place and was looking for a table. A flash of another time and place pounded it's own memory in the back of her head. The lights, sounds and the general atmosphere was similar to a juke joint she used to frequent. Right?

For a second she lost the color in her face, but when they found a table and a few people were looking to play, she shook it all off.

"Someone should ask Lucy about getting dirty." There might have been a smirk behind the drink she was nursing.

Kate! She was greeted with a big hug from Lucy and then an introduction to Etain. She was pretty sure Kate knew Fin and Ketch already. And once Kate was there, Lucy perfectly content to give up the leadership role to Kate so she could decide where they went for the rest of the night!

On the group's way out of the diner, a familiar, elfin voice caught up in a series of choked coughs, followed by a separate voice, deep and gravelly, chuckling low and almost dopey in tone.

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From an alley, at the side of which sat a blue '68 Firebird, the flash of a gold dress and nose chain showed under the wild cascade of pink hair, with a burbled exhale of smoke slipping out from black-painted lips. Eventually, Zofie worked up a smile, wiggling her day-glo painted nails to Lucy and Kate, and to Etain and Fin a warm glance and grin. "Hey reprobates..." The cough started up again with a snicker.

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Across from Zofie, Bart leaned against the alley wall, crossing his ankles and pushing his shades up from their spot on the bridge of his nose, showing the bright, kindly flash of his eyes. The bright red racing jacket had been unzipped enough to let the 'doge' on his shirt peek out from behind it, as if he were doing the print a favor by giving it air. He gestured from the sparkly clear-glass pipe in his hand, stuffed with fragrant burning herbs, and toward the fancily-dressed group, one brow raised in question. "So... if any of you partake, you're more'n welcome. By the way, 'm Bart, n' that's Zofie coughing her head off..."

Ketch did not seem in a particularly jovial mood, but tagged along with the growing crew, polite when introductions were made to Etain, quiet otherwise until a good three bar-hops in loosened him up. At that point, there was the typical banter slung back and forth between he and Kate, dry remarks traded with Cris, and good-natured teasing of Lucy.

He recognized Zofie from Lucy's gallery opening and was quite interested in the '68 Firebird she and Bart arrived in. Bart's shirt was the recipient of a fair amount of squinting while Ketch tried to figure out if there was some sort of deeper meaning behind it. Deciding at last that it was merely a statement piece, he felt a brief surge of confidence in his own sedate attire of plain old jeans, unremarkable, navy t-shirt and hoodie.

Shortly after midnight struck, Ketch peeled off from the crew with a vague explanation and disappeared.

Bart skedaddled once the cadre had decided to hop into the limo and continue on their evening. He was more than happy to talk about the Firebird with Ketch, dorking out over the little modifications done to it, and stopping himself before ever uttering the automobile's name. He eventually explained that the shirt was a gift from his BFFFL, and his designs on hunting her down for the evening. He left his pipe with Zofie, giving her a steely eye before he drove off, shouting well-wishings out of the window.

Zofie tagged along for most of the journey. She provided silly blurts and anecdotes for much of the conversations, playing up her screwball persona and doing little bits to spread out the jovial spirit and keep folks included, if still reserved. She stopped drinking and smoking at about 11, gulping down water and availing herself to whatever food the street vendors were peddling. She kissed a statue at midnight, and then offered to call cabs and walk home any remaining members of the group who were far afield and/or trashed out of their gourds.