video; @The Seventh Crown of the Seventh Demon King;

[unrequite]

[ In media res: there's a video feed sharpening into focus, blobs of silver and pink and purple neon resolving into a staircase leading down to a metal door gleaming clean under the artificial lighting around it. Midnight's standing at the door, looking up at the camera and the person filming with his phone, grinning one of his worryingly unhinged grins. ]

How is it, Kaveh? I'd ask you for my best angle, if I had any bad angles.

[ This conversation does... persist... but as the video continues, it becomes perfectly clear that this terribly disorganized promotion is for a bar of some sort. Midnight makes it clear later when he reclaims the camera, hops onto the bar, and aligns himself in the frame in a way that lights both his face and the sign behind him, a rose-lit confection announcing the name of the bar: Seventh Hell Host Club. ]

That's where we are. Do you see that? My name is Midnight, and this is my host club, Seventh Hell. We're near the southernmost station on Line 1. Kaveh and I have been working terribly hard on this establishment, and all of you have his genius and design sense to thank for this momentous occasion. Please do thank him personally. Make a great fuss about it. Remind him that sleep is a temporary state that he should indulge in more often, preferably with me. Thank you.

[ Kaveh is definitely taking the phone at this point, but later on, Midnight will retrieve it and add a postscript. He is sitting in some sort of underground greenhouse this time, surrounded by mist, glass, flowers, and the glow of sun-tinted halogen lights. Regardless of the promo quality, the greenhouse itself is certainly an impressive feat of engineering. ]

Yes, this is one of several themed rooms here at Seventh Hell. You — yes, you — are personally invited to see it. When? Well, whenever you like, so long as the doors are open, but on the 31st of this month... Ahem.

[ He clears his throat, grins. ]

For the turn of the year, you are cordially invited to Seventh Hell's Grand Opening and New Year's Eve joint celebration. Or something like that, I'll come up with a grander name if necessary. There will be drinks, music, a tour of the premises, games, untold bliss, fantasies, beautiful women, beautiful men, myself among them, possibly fireworks if Kaveh can be convinced that I won't set the place ablaze... You won't want to miss out, I promise.

The doors will open at 6 pm, but come by anytime before then, from now until the New Year, if you'd like to enjoy the premises in relative solitude. Send a message to this account if you'd like to be assured of a bartender, or a friendly face to speak to. If I can't come personally, a host or hostess will be there, ready to welcome you to a night of merriment and pleasant conversation.

So, until then... Seventh Hell awaits you.

[ A wink, and the feed shuts off. ]

[ ooc: Along with normal network replies, current host club employees and staff are welcome and encouraged to reply to this post as though Midnight's included them in an impromptu promotion for the club! You can also use this post for post-promo, off camera conversations with him or anyone else in the host club. Go stupid, go wild, go crazy, threadjack, steal his phone and flush it down a toilet. Honestly, the sky is the limit. ]

Comments

[unrequite]

[ Midnight nods to that request, and then hums happily as he pours Astarion a glass of a fine red. Vampires being undead is a myth in Midnight's world, so he himself has had to quell many rumors about himself on the matter. He won't know about the taste thing until he's told... ]

It is rather stunning, isn't it? Although I must say that Kaveh is the one to thank for the engineering of it all.

[ He slides the glass over to Astarion on a napkin, then nods at the various light fixtures and mirrors surrounding them. ]

He has a way of bringing even the most ethereal of fantasies into the mortal plane at a pace that would rival even the most complex of technologies in my world. [ He laughs softly. ] He had no conception of much of the technology when we first arrived here... I still remember how fascinated he was by the automatic doors, the prolification of electric power. I miss that a little, but he has a way of adapting that is also lovely to witness.

[ ... He's down abysmal. He does pay his compliments so plainly, like the rest of the absurd things he says, that one might mistake it for exaggeration, but it's really not. ]

[vampires_pawn]

[ Astarion sips at his drink as Midnight speaks, his face betraying none of the wine's sourness on his tongue. He makes a note to direct more of his praise towards Kaveh in the future; Midnight may be an effusive person in general, but Astarion can tell that he especially favors the blonde. ]

He must be quite the artificer to master the technology of this place. It's utterly beyond me, personally.

[ Astarion still thinks that half the technology here runs on magic. It's how it would've worked in his own realm, after all, and he hasn't bothered to read any of the dull-looking technical tomes that would've dissuaded him of the notion. No, he's content to leave the actual engineering to people like Kaveh...

...though, he must admit, he wishes the man hadn't been quite so gung-ho with the mirrored aesthetic inside the club. It's made it quite the challenge for Astarion to hide the fact that he has no reflection. He takes a quick, surreptitious look around to try and see if there are any mirrors conspicuously not reflecting him now. ]

So, [ he says, hoping to keep Midnight's mind off of inconsequential things such as reflections. ] Now the whole city knows about Seventh Hell and the blisses awaiting within. Any last minute hosting tips I should be aware of? Not that I'm completely inexperienced with this kind of work, [ a small, sharp laugh, ] but you're the expert, aren't you?

[unrequite]

[ Midnight nods fondly, still off in his daydreams of his dearest architect. What a catch. It really is too bad that he's so tragically unaware of his own charms...

Speaking of charms, though! Midnight's the sort of person to gather certain sorts of information on others without any sort of malicious intent. Not to say that he's noticed a lack of reflection on Astarion, due to his focus on the conversation and little else... But if he does, he'll probably just chalk it up to some quirk of Astarion's species and denote no further meaning to it. It's just how he is.

No, no. Astarion's charms are the focus of the conversation now. Midnight smiles, pours his own cup, and sips of it gently. ]

I am indeed an expert. Master of bliss, bringer of happiness. To all in my company: contentment of the highest degree.

[ He's speaking highly of himself, yes, but very thoughtfully, focused on Astarion. In all senses except literal, he's speaking in the past tense. ]

Well, beyond the more pragmatic advice, all of which hardly matters here — no finances to keep track of, no investment opportunities except for that which we create for ourselves, and so on — I'd say... Sticking to the fine art of keeping others company is the only real goal to keep in mind. Which is, of course, something I've mentioned already, but for someone like yourself, already familiar with the basics...

[ Midnight hums. ]

Once one has one's bearings, I suppose the next step is to have an accurate image of oneself, and to be conscious of how one's intended image reflects reality. Marketing yourself, in the simplest terms, although it goes deeper than that. I'd say it's having a handle on who you are and what you offer that others do not, and having the confidence to promote yourself on those terms.

So I suppose that's a tip? Know thyself. [ Midnight laughs, takes another sip. ] I don't suppose it's anything vital, and it's far from the first rule of hosting... but it does help with regard to many factors regarding the position.

cw: references to sex work

[vampires_pawn]

[ It's a bit funny, really. Here Astarion was worrying about the mirrors and now Midnight is pontificating about things like self-image and reflecting reality. Astarion might even suspect Midnight was teasing him if not for the fact that he seems so embarrassingly sincere about all of it. 'Know thyself.' What extravagant advice for a role that, in Astarion's experience, mostly consisted of looking pretty and saying whatever the other person wanted to hear.

Still, he supposes there might be something to what Midnight says. After all, Astarion has only ever had to be charming enough for a single night; he wasn't in a position to have any repeat customers, so to speak. He's never really had to consider what about himself might appeal to someone for more than just one night of ill-advised pleasure...

But... he can figure it out, can't ? It's not like he's actually in this to spread love and cheer like Midnight seems to be. He just needs to find one person, maybe two, and get to know them—what they love, what they desire—until he's sure he can keep them on his side. What have the last 200 years prepared him for if not that? ]

Well, [ Astarion says, a hollow smirk playing on his lips, ] why don't you give me some inspiration, then? What do you see when you look at me? What, ah, image do I project?

[unrequite]

Ah, I'd be delighted to. Let me see...

[ Midnight hums, sets his drink aside, then leans in to really look at Astarion's face. It's the eyes he's looking at, primarily, with a focus that is born of decades of people watching. The kind of attention one gives when they must understand who they're dealing with for more than mere interest's sake. ]

I see tension. While I'd like to chalk it up to mere first day nerves, I can't say that I'd dismiss other possibilities. Hm. Could be anything, really.

[ His head cants. The movement is very small. Like something large hidden in shadow, scenting the air. ]

Regardless of your intentions, you've something to prove. I believe you when you say you've some experience with regard to escorting, in that no one truly inexperienced would have the same confidence in explaining what they have to offer unless they were truly daft or some sort of savant. On the other hand, I can see that whatever experience you have is scattered. Escorting wasn't your main focus. If it was, if you were also an expert, there would be no need for tension at all.

You're eager. It's not a sin, of course... But it opens you up to a certain level of vulnerability. Others might think you the sort to be pliable in some way, easily influenced, unaware of certain confidence tricks. At the same time, you don't seem the sort to be totally unaware of the world around you, which means...

[ ... Midnight breathes, closes his eyes, and leans back. When he lets the air out of his lungs, he's smiling, reaching out for his drink and shaking his head. ]

None of that has any utility, of course. They're just flaws, and everyone has a few of those. It's charming to be a bit eager, I'd say. Just watch yourself, mm? Don't give anyone a reason to doubt your sincerity.

[vampires_pawn]

[ When Astarion had asked for Midnight's perception of him, he'd been hoping to hear about his devastating good looks and roguish charm—not a list of his apparent flaws. And what flaws they are: tense and vulnerable, in particular, are exactly the opposite of the image Astarion wants to project. ]

Gods, [ he groans, ] you make me sound like some helpless little lamb. I'll have you know that I'm very experienced in my line of work; there's nothing scattered about me at all.

[ Perhaps he is a little tense, but who could blame him after the month he's had? It certainly has nothing to do with this new job, which Astarion is sure will be child's play compared to the past 200 years. He nurses his drink, sulking. 'Don't give anyone a reason to doubt your sincerity.' As if charm has anything to do with truth. ]

Don't you worry, [ he says, waving a hand as if waving away Midnight's concerns. ] I'll be the very picture of candor and affection. Now, isn't this the part where you dispense a compliment or two to make up for the critique?

[unrequite]

[ Midnight huffs a laugh after a swallow of his wine. ]

You're not at all helpless, my darling. Let's have that as a start.

[ He shakes his head, looking down at the swirl of wine under his nose. ]

An image of helplessness and tension is, in fact, also a factor one can leverage, but only if you're aware of it. A projection of weakness when one is in well in control, an image of strength when one is unsure or unsteady. Unless, again, you're some sort of savant who can win someone over with raw charisma and good cheer alone, these are all tools to utilize or discard as necessary.

[ He cants his head, looks up at Astarion. He isn't in the mood to offer a compliment sandwich, apparently. If anything, he's speaking from a deeply held passion for all of this. The sort of sharpness that comes from a well hidden core of perfectionism. ]

Know thyself. Good looks and even the ability to hold a conversation are optional in this industry, even if they are boons in the right hands.