The Evening Star Nightclub continued to be an all-welcoming locale as that particular hour stretched on, and a handful of other performances were promised throughout the course of the night into the early morning hours, which was standard for a place whose main draw was the vocal and acrobatic talents up on the stage. The cozy and friendly atmosphere only helped to bolster the fame this place incurred along the way, and people continued to come and go as the night stretched on.

The nightclub's fame, as it were, had a good many employees and waitstaff, all of whom were (mostly) on good terms with one another, and it was that camaraderie that also helped keep business thriving, since teamwork was essential when the place filled up. The girls on the floor and the girls on stage looked out for one another on the regular, and, sometimes, this form of 'looking out' transcended beyond the boundaries of what was expected under the establishment's roof. Certain rules and protocols were expected to be followed, but for certain people, those rules were a little different. Certain people had certain issues that caused certain... problems, and sometimes those certain people had to ask for help in skirting those rules that were set only for them. Fortunately, when you're an idol and everyone loves you, getting that sort of help is a non-issue (most of the time).

It just so happened that, about halfway through that first hour following her performance, this certain someone did need help in finding a way outside the nightclub that she would have otherwise been locked down in, due to a strange-but-not-uncommon aversion to taking a certain medication meant to avert the problems she was known to cause during a certain limited timeframe that she was currently at the start of. This person did know better, don't get her wrong, but sometimes it was just more fun this way. Thyrenne and Bettany's eyes were upon her almost at all times during this period, and her forbiddance to leave the nightclub without taking said medication was hammered pretty well in stone by this time.

However, sometimes the nightclub got really busy, and it became difficult to watch everyone you're supposed to be watching. And this certain someone was very well aware of that.

And so, under the cover of Viorar's ephemeral, moonlight-glazed darkness, two figures carefully made their way out from the backstage door of the Evening Star Nightclub, the taller one whispering a few hushed things to someone on the other side before allowing it to close gently behind them. Mantled in simple-but-encompassing leather cloaks, these two figures escaped into the evening and made their way down an adjoining alleyway, the taller one's tail flicking with frequent concern over her involvement in this charade, and the shorter one's impressive wingspan fanned out over her cloak like an extra garment in and of itself.

They hadn't gone too far before stopping at an intersection between that alley and an adjacent one, and in a hushed exchange, the taller one spoke, in a seriously-matter-of-fact sort of tone. "Three hours," she said, a bit curtly, holding up a clawed hand with her index, middle and ring fingers extended. "This spot right here. If you're not here when I return, you're on your own. Don't put Thyrenne in a spot where she has to considering giving you the axe, okay? For all our sakes."

The shorter woman grinned broadly, her hood pulled up high enough that her facial features were barely visible underneath. "I will be good," she said, with no small amount of mischief in her tone to imply the opposite. "Three hours, promise. I appreciate this a lot, Millie. I owe you big!" And she reached out to embrace her friend tightly, in emphasis of this appreciation.

The taller woman squirmed and pulled the other off in feigned annoyance, but allowed herself a smirk in the process. "Alright, alright," she said. "Get out of here, then. Cecille and I will keep eyes off your dressing room for the time being, and as far as anyone knows, you're taking a nap for a few hours. I'm not sure what games you're playing, just don't forget the deadline. That's all." And with that, the tailed woman turned and made her way back down the prior alley, toward the nightclub, leaving the shorter winged woman, and her foolish, ever-present grin, behind.

Avarice has managed to wait the requisite time without being pulled away, this time. What they haven't managed is selecting a completely normal mode of whiling away the time spent since. Or more specifically, a normal location. They're on someone's roof, again. As frequently as they apparently do that, it's a wonder they don't spend more time being yelled at by residents who don't appreciate hearing boots stomping above them. Maybe they've just managed to memorize which buildings are occupied at what times, or maybe they're just dodging away too quickly for anyone to catch them at the act.

It's quiet enough here at this time of night that they hear the voices, even with the attempt at keeping quiet. Stretched out on their back with their arms folded under their head, they look like they were either in the middle of a bit of stargazing, or even a nap before hearing Mollianne and her friend. The stifled yawn and full-body stretch would pretty quickly answer that question for an observer in doubt. Making nearly no noise -- none that'd be detectable to someone without superhuman hearing, anyway -- they slide to the edge of the roof and look down, crouching there and crossing their arms over their chest as they gaze at the siren with an unreadable expression on their face. They're visible, but hard to spot given that they're wearing all black, and they've apparently chosen not to announce themself, instead watching the siren to see what she'll do.

As the companion named 'Millie' departs back to the nightclub, the winged one left behind seems to assess her surroundings briefly, as if trying to figure out what her next step should be. That grin never leaves her face, an implication of something that tells anyone seeing it that she's doing something she knows she's not supposed to, but couldn't care less. Her taloned feet scrape against the alleyway cobblestones loosely as she makes a few paces down the adjacent alleyway she and her friend had parted ways at, keeping her eyes and ears out for anything actually going on along the way. She holds her cloak close as she goes, keeping the hood up especially, like she firmly believed that the wings weren't going to give her away. In her defense, Viorar was chock full of sirenkind so it wasn't that much of a giveaway, but everyone who knew her in any visible respect were aware that hers had a trademark for being well-larger than her own body size, which the cloak definitely did nothing to circumvent. Points for trying, though, maybe.

She stops every few steps or so, those bright aquamarine eyes peering around in all directions except up, seemingly, as if it never occurred to her that it might be an option. A light breeze glides past, and she uses both hands to hold onto her hood for fear of it being removed involuntarily. "Eh..." she mumbles, seemingly to no one but herself. "It feels scarier in the dark when I am trying not to be seen..." Her grin has faltered slightly, but not entirely. She doesn't go any further, then, kind of tilting her head to one side as she considers what she should do next, since she wasn't given a solid location, and Viorar had plenty of alleys to choose from, especially around the nightclub.

A brief, slight needle in the furthestmost reaches of her thoughts gave the slightest of panic that she might have been set up, but it isn't a thought that she dwells on for more than a second, if that, allowing herself to merely scan the immediate area and see if anything stands out. Maybe she was just earlier than intended.

The less pleasant parts of Ava's personality enjoy seeing Molly twist in uncertainty more than a little. They make no attempt to discern their own motive behind this little game. It's not driven by spite, not really. They like Molly enough that they've been rather honest with her, more so than they would be with nearly anyone. It's more a desire to see people in different kinds of situations, a curiosity that might have been more innocent if it weren't for the blatant powerplay behind it.

There's no specific trigger to them deciding to end the game. It's a good handful of seconds after she spoke, letting those words stir the empty air but offering none in response.

"Anyone ever tell you you stand out like a sore thumb?" In Ava's eyes, it's more than just the wings. It's the way she carries herself, and that grin is none-too-subtle either. Giving her a moment to spot them now that they've given themself away, they smirk before adding, "Glad you could make it."

They spring on down, landing with the grace of someone who has spent far too much time engaging in parkour on rooftops much like these, and approach with a cat-that-ate-the-canary kind of expression.

Distinctly more on edge at that point than she was when her friend left, there's nothing keeping the siren from jumping out of her half-feathered skin from the sudden voice nearby, her feet actively leaving the ground as she issues the smallest of gasping shrieks in surprise, which sounds a lot louder than it should've in the otherwise-silent backroads. By proxy, her wings ruffle up to full mast, clouding her form all the more behind them as she twists her head around, trying to figure out where the voice came from. The surprise is big enough that it doesn't even register as Ava's voice before she eventually manages to spot them, her hood having fallen over the top-third of her face when she turns around in their direction. "Ah..." her voice wavers a bit, seeming to be taking some solid effort into calming down from the spook. "You scared me..!" She doesn't sound mad or upset, really, just wholly startled.

Her wings unfold slightly, falling low for a moment as the downy surface upon them gradually settles down, and it's entirely possible that the sound of her heart hammering away in her chest is loud enough to be heard, as well. She pulls her hood up just enough to allow herself more visibility, but keeps it on, otherwise, a smile forming on her face as she gets to see Avarice up close when they hop down. The expression on Avarice's face doesn't seem to register entirely, or possibly at all, as she simply seems just plain happy to see them, before and beyond anything else. "I was worried that maybe I missed you. You are really good at hiding!" Her voice is soft and low, as if afraid of disturbing the night's silence too much by being any louder than was absolutely necessary.

They hadn't expected her to react quite that strongly to the startle. If they weren't already aware that Mollianne is very capable of handling herself, they might have felt a little bad. A little. But they really don't. It's only some momentary ruffled feathers (pun intended), nothing she won't get over.

"Lotta practice," Ava responds honestly, also keeping their voice a bit lower than their usual volume. In spite of their antics, the look that spreads over their face as they look her over is one that has some genuine fondness. "How'd it go? Did the boss chew your ear off?"

Mollianne squirms noticeably, pulling her cloak a lightly more closely over her form, and while her grin doesn't exactly fade, it does alter slightly in its intent. "Yeah, but that is not anything new," she admits, peering out through the confines of her hood. The combined shadow of her coverage combined with the general darkness of Viorar itself and the alleyway's distinct lack of lighting enshrouds her pretty easily from tip to toe, but those eyes are bright enough that they practically illuminate her face to a very minor degree, including the unavoidable range of pink across her cheeks. "I think it would be a strange day if I could get through an entire night without somebody telling me to 'knock it off,' or 'pay attention,' or 'you cannot go out dressed like that,' or 'stop making promises we cannot keep.' Things like that. People accuse me of pushing my luck, but I just have a lot of energy and nowhere to put it, otherwise. That is my excuse, anyway."

The siren glances off to one side momentarily, still very much aware of how silent everything is around the two of them. 'Vulnerable' is not really a term used to describe Mollianne in most respects, but right there in this particular moment, she was arguably as close to it as she was ever actually going to be, and it was pretty obvious to anyone with even a trace of awareness. "I think they just worry about me getting too close to people and getting hurt, because they know there are some pretty nasty people out there. And I know there are, too. But I also know that I can take care of myself, even if they do not." She looks back at Avarice, her wings lifting up a little ways against her back and sort of... flattening, almost, against her back, as if they were trying to encompass her small form more than they already were. "Plus, they think it is bad for business. And, I mean, maybe it is. But only if they find out! And I know Millie is always on my side. I would not have been able to escape without her help." She sounds a little too pleased with herself. "I really appreciated that you were able to show up and see the performance. I had a... feeling, that you would find a way, even though I know work and other things can sometimes get in the way. It is the same for everyone, and I know how it is."

Her grin collapses halfway into a fairly-genuine smile, mostly hidden within her hood, but practically tangible even if it isn't so much visible. "You really are my biggest fan, and it means a lot to me."

Ava has enough of an eye for people that they can't miss the effect they're having on her with very little effort. But, not for the first time, they choose not to draw any extra attention to it. For now they're just pleased the reaction is there at all. "You know, a lot of that sounds familiar. Not as much anymore, but when I was little enough to have to need other people around. 'S better now that I work on my own. No one to give me shit most times, long as I get results."

Seems like they have a lot of practice in talking about working without actually revealing anything about what they do, doesn't it? They seem, comparatively, completely at ease in the dark and silence, as natural as if they were molded out of it. They press their lips together as she speaks, looking, for once, a bit more serious. "They're looking out for you. I get that. But like you said, you can look out for yourself." They hesitate noticeably, something undefined creeping over their expression. It's fortunate for them that the heat rising to their face won't be too obvious through their tan skin, and with their dark surroundings. A statement about their own protective intent would seem a bit silly, given that they stood by during the beast's attack during their last meeting, and they're self-aware enough to recognize it, so instead, they opt to say it without saying it. "I almost feel bad for anyone dumb enough to think they can mess with you and get away with it."

Ava takes the opening when she expresses her appreciation to tease a little more. "Just a fan?" They grin, and then take a step closer, peering down at her with a piercing gaze. They're not really that much taller than her, so 'looming' might not be the right word, but then again, they have a subtle control of their posture and stance that gives them the ability to seem like they're taking up more space than they actually are, when they want to. Now is one of those times.

Avarice's increasing proximity causes her eyes to fall just enough to break eye contact, visibly wilting a short ways under that gaze, and while she'd calmed down to a moderate degree in the short length of time they'd been conversing, this distance-closing puts her heartrate pretty much back up to full tilt. She'd beat around the bush just a bit to give Ava an 'out' if they wanted one, and despite her current state of mind, she was still coherent enough to be aware of at least some aspects of what she was getting herself into. This very well could have been a dangerous game she was playing, and her colleagues had given her no small amount of warning of just such a possibility, despite that a good majority of them didn't actually know just what kind of game she was actually playing in the shadows, on the super-rare occasions she decided to forego her medication and throw caution to the wind. Some of them did, though. But that's why it was called a 'game.' Right?

Believing, to at least a large extent, that Avarice know what they were getting themself tangled up in, Mollianne's expression slides into something blatantly coy, but also impossible to misunderstand. Especially for someone as apparently-aware as Ava was. "I have three hours..." she carefully elaborates, in a voice just above what could be considered a whisper. Her posture shifts slightly, and she moves to place the flats of both palms against Ava's abdomen, still avoiding eye contact, but just barely. "I am sure you know how good I am on stage, by now, but I was thinking that maybe I might show you how good of a performer I am off the stage, too..." Her taloned feet scraped idly against the cobbled road as she gradually raised her eyes again, which go half-lidded with the promise of a mischief far beyond what the general public knew her for. "I have a lot of energy to burn, and I would be pretty thrilled if you wanted to help me get rid of some of it." Her fingers flex loosely, digging in her fingertips just enough to get a grip on their clothing. This side of her, even beyond the crushing implications, was a level of meek demureness that was painfully-contradictory to her persona all elsewhere, a blatant confession of what she wanted but without the immediate desire to reach out and take it.

Maybe something was still hanging on in that clouded siren brain of hers. Or...

She lifted up just a little ways onto her tip-talons, whispering something into Avarice's ear that would arguably kick that potentially-reserved thought process straight to the curb.

Yet again, Avarice radiates a feeling of smugness as they carefully watch Molly's body language. That initial reaction could go one of two ways -- either momentary shyness, or actual discomfort, and they feel fairly sure that the siren would have no trouble telling them to stop if they actually went too far. They're counting on that quite a bit, actually. It's much more fun to tease someone who's outspoken enough to say so if they're not into it than it is to play guessing games with someone who won't.

The shift in her expression confirms their read on her, and it's easy at that point for their own face to slide into one that makes it quite clear what they want. When her hands find their way to their toned stomach, they give the smallest sharp intake of breath, almost as if they've been primed in anticipation of her touch this entire time, just waiting for her to make a move. The rogue was already near-certain where this was headed, of course, but they wanted her to say it. They wanted her to take the plunge -- and give them the ego boost of letting them know that they're irresistible.

So, of course, all of this only makes their grin widen, their eyes narrowing until they look almost predatory. Their expression flickers when she whispers into their ear, and it launches them into sudden movement, reaching to grasp her chin between thumb and forefinger with a firm grip and tilt her face to look up at them as they lean in close. So close. Their lips are barely a couple of inches away from hers when they pause, and yet that unrelenting grip isn't allowing much room for movement. When they speak, their voice is a smoky purr. "Mind showing me to your room so I can see for myself?" With their free hand, they pull her hood back just a bit, enabling them to lean to the side afterwards with their lips brushing against her ear, adding something else in a whisper.

The feeling of Avarice's breath on her ear was all it took to dissolve any last vestige of self-restraint that she might've had remaining. The only two thoughts left, at that point, that weren't part of the inherently-obvious overdrive were a simple matter of 'here' or 'there,' and she even had difficulty trying to reach a consensus between them, alone. Her legs weakened enough from the sound of their voice in that final acceptance to force her to dig her fingers into Ava's stomach just a little ways in order to hold herself up, and she wanted nothing more than to wrench herself free from their grip and seal that promise with her lips against theirs, but Avarice was right; she did stick out like a sore thumb. She knew this, and even in her weakest moments (right now being one of them), it was a constant awareness that was an ever-present residual from her fame and status around the nightclub and, by proxy, most of the population in Viorar. There was no way she could get away with it, as much as she wanted to throw all caution to the wind and waste absolutely no further time than she already had. And if something happened, she might never be able to experience the thrill of this again, the absolute naughtiness of doing something she knew she wasn't supposed to. The excitement of it was honestly at least half of what made it so worthwhile.

Something that both bothered and amused people, depending on circumstance and the specific person, was how crafty Mollianne was. She had tremendous foresight despite her occasional predisposition to being thick-skulled at times, and her preparatory skills were the envy of quite a few people. Mollianne wasn't someone who could just get an inn room without being acknowledged. And she couldn't exactly drag Ava back to her dressing room, either (how much fun would that have been?). However, in the backstreets of Viorar, she knew that there were a lot of empty buildings. And a lot of them didn't have locks on their doors. Some of these empty buildings were quite small, barely sheds, even. Mollianne was a siren who liked to have fun, and sometimes that fun was outside the bounds of moral allowance (depending on who you asked). So Mollianne had to improvise, which, as anyone could tell from her stage routines, was also something she was quite adept at. This would be one of those times that she was thankful for that foresight, that improvisation, and that preparedness.

Seeing her chance and grasping at the sheer luck of her current location, this little siren broke free from Avarice's grip on her chin and pushes them backwards, where it just-so-happened that one of these 'empty buildings' was located. With an already-ajar door directly behind them, it swung open rather easily to showcase a small, fully-enclosed room with a sizeable pile of clean straw, apparently placed there with full intention of it serving a purpose at some point, given how out-of-place it would have otherwise been. How did this go unnoticed up until now? Even little siren have secrets that they won't tell.

With a little effort on her part, Mollianne attempts to bodily push Avarice into this pseudo-lodging, pressing herself flushly against their chest as a familiar grin creeps back onto her face, the act of which pulls open her cloak by just a teasing amount to indicate that there is, in fact, not a shred to be seen underneath. She took chances, for sure, but sometimes the risks were so worth the rewards. Molly held tightly onto the fabric of their clothing as she pushed, fully knowing that if they went down, she would, too.

In fact, she was counting on it.

Once their teasing point has been made, Ava let their grip on Mollianne loosen enough that it wasn't hard for her to break away. They have willingly thrown to ball back into her court, allowing the siren to push them backwards and feeling a door give way against their back. That comes close to forcing them off balance, since they expected the door to be more solid, but they still keep their feet for the time being, arms coming to wrap around Molly just as eagerly to keep her close as they backpedal with only a tenuous amount of stability.

The thief barely tears their eyes away from Molly long enough to toss a quick glance over their shoulder. Noting the straw that's there, they wait until they feel the texture of it against the ankle of their boot before letting their feet 'slip', relaxing into the fall with the certainty that the straw will break it. Landing with a dull 'whump' and a rustle, Molly dropping right along with them with their body softening the impact.

Ava doesn't give either of them any time to recover from the falling, leaning in suddenly for the kiss that was denied before, hands that won't refrain from wandering for much longer pulling her body close against theirs to feel her warmth.

The next three hours held the promise of a performance equally as fun and memorable as the first, but this time, there was room for two on the proverbial stage.