Lars doesn't even look down at his clipboard.

"Sorry friend, you're not on the list. Why don't you go back downstairs and have a drink?"

"Why don't you let me through before I have to bring Anja and Jakob up in here? I'm just here to get my groove on."

"Who?"

As Lars says this, Ulf becomes animated.

"I don't know who you're talking about, but I'm only going to ask you nicely this one last time. Why don't you turn around and leave. Otherwise, Ulf will have to do something very unpleasant...but fortunately, he takes pride in his work."

Ulf then swings out a tazer-looking device from his jacket.

Just in the nick of time, Jessica puts her hand on Art's shoulder and pulls him back. Scrambling for some swedish words, she smiles at the bouncer and tries to sound pacifying.

"Excuse him, he's had a little too much alcohol already. Darling, come on, there's a few other fine places to go to."

She then leers suggestively at him and utters in a more seductive voice...

"Like our hotel room."

Both Lars and Ulf glare at Jessica with the expressions...something like,

He's with you?! I suppose it takes all kinds. It must be the ethnic thing.

Ulf stows the tazer away and gestures them in.

I give them both a big old fuck-you smile as I walk past their fat asses.

The dance floor looks like a party at the Playboy Mansion...all that is missing is Hugh Hefner. Artis and Jessica are surrounded by the "beautiful people" of Stockholm.

"I have a proposal. You do the shooting, I do the talking."

"It's a deal then." I move off into the morass of people.

(OOC: I'm using Hide or Move Silently to disappear from my co-workers for a while. I'm pissed off that somehow Marcellus is trying to kill me and I didn't even do anything wrong. I don't need the others' paranoia, I've got enough for everyone and I'm getting drunk enough right now to not be paranoid anymore)

Jessica sighs, then decides to take after Art.

*Long night coming up...god, something makes me think it would've been better to actually drag him back to the hotel.*

Gavin sits down at the bar and orders a Guinness...and after about 20 minutes of convincing the bartender that yes, he really does want one instead of some drink whose base ingredient isn't vodka...the bartender caves and gives him one.

Artis mingles in the with the social elite of Stockholm, finding an empty barstool in the end of the cavernous dance floor. The bartender...reading the look on Artis' face, sets him up with a bottle of Absolut Vodka and a shotglass.

As Artis tries to forget what had happened earlier in the day, two women sit down at the bar. One of them seems to intrigued by the out-of-place demeanor of Artis. She gets up off her stool and taps him on the shoulder and says (in Swedish)

"Tough day at the office?"

"You know anyone named Marcellus?" I ask, pouring her a shot.

"Um..no. Anja, you do know Anja? She just called me and said that a friend of her might need some cheering up."

(OOC: Artis' "sense motive" check will be posted in the OOC thread)

"Really? That Anja, so kind." (Are they sweaty at all from dancing, or do they look relatively new to the upstairs?) "How do you know her?"

(I assume I'm half-speaking, half-shouting the dialogue... )

She seems to be stumbling on her answer, not really ready for the answer Artis gave her.

"Errm, um...oh Anja? We go way back. She has used our service for quite some time."

The woman's Swedish accent seems to also be stumbling, Artis noting that the phrase "we go way back" is a uniquely American vernacular.

Something's rotten in the state of Sweden and it ain't her perfume.

She introduces herself (Martina) and her friend Elka, suggesting they go someplace more quiet.

"Nah, I like it here I don't want to lose my seat. Isn't it exciting? All the people, the music... (offering her another shot) It's like a kaleidoscope!"

Both ladies take a shot, then promptly blend into the crowd on the dancefloor. A few minutes after they leave Artis, Jakob pulls up a stool at the bar.

"Old friends of yours?...I was watching the whole thing."

"Gah. No, they didn't sit quite right with me. I'm not that drunk. Their accent was... was fluctuating. Said they knew Anja but it was a bunch of horseshit. Goddamn, I can't even drink in peace."

Jakob looks at Artis for a long second, making sure he's coherent for the time being.

"I'll take care of them, just watch yourself."

Jakob gets off his stool and heads into the crowd of dancers, somehow finding Jessica in all the turmoil.

"Follow me, please."

Following the most obvious path the women would have taken...that being to the ladies room, Jakob scratches his head for a second, then looks at Jessica.

"Watch my back. This could get ugly."

Jakob enters the bathroom and amidst the few screams at the visage of a large nordic man invading the sacred realm of female bar-flies, Jakob seems uninterested in their pleas for him to leave. He sees the duo in question at the end of the long bay of sinks and mirrors, apparently oblivious to his presence and applying make-up. Propping themselves with one hand, Jakob notices they're within convenient range. With almost clockwork precision, he whips out a pair of handcuffs...ajoining Elka's right with Martina's left hand together.

"You're coming with me."

(And that's when we roll initiative...bad guys, Jessica, then Jakob)

Elka's combat reflexes come into play as she pivots on one high-heel, attempting to kick Jakob in the back of the head. Her foot connects with Jakob's head, but does little more than off-center his sunglasses. Martina reacts with a chop to Jakob's throat and a knee to the groin. The chop goes wide, hitting him in the shoulder-blade as her knee jams itself squarely into Jakob's family jewels.

As Jessica prepares to help Jakob out of his beatdown, Jakob thinks...

Why? Oh way do they always aim for the crotch?! Aaaarrgh!

(OOC: Jakob is incapacitated this round, but will be able to act next round)