The music was much duller on the inside. Even the lights were - more even and well-lit, yet still not too bright to be uncomfortable. Probably the most welcome part was the lac of a crowd - much fewer people, politely passing her by and minding their own business. She felt more than a bit out of place here, with her whorish dress. Most people probably assumed she was allowed to be here and didn't comment on it. She puffed her chest out with confidence and kept walking on through the industrial corridors, hoping it helped her disguise.

The corridor ended in a lounge area, apparently a sort of break room. She crouched behind the door and gave the crowd inside a look-over. Gruffy guy with a pompadour, manic pixie dream girl, duo of a thick-set drummer and a white-haired punk girl who was very obviously somewhere on the queer spectrum. Considering how friendly they seemed to be with each other, it was either a very elaborate con job, or it simply wasn't who she was looking for. Still somewhat awkward, Catra walked in, trying to look as little out of place as she could.

"Hey, uh, I was told I could find a friend of mine-"

"Okay, first off, you need a drink." The white-haired girl went to the bar without another comment, and before Catra could protest, she had a new glass in her hands. Her second for the evening, she thought. She wasn't Adora, but she couldn't exactly hold her liquor either. Awkwardly, she took a sip. It was sweeter than anything Glimmer had given her.

"Woof. Sweet."

"I know, right? More sugar than a red bull!" Only now did Catra notice the dark rings under the girl's eyes. From personal experience, she guessed she hadn't slept in at least a week.

"Right, so I was looking for a friend of mine-"

"With this look, girl, they'd be looking for you! Just hang around a bit, they'll show up eventually. By the way, we're up next! Make sure to cheer real loud!" Off from another corridor, Catra heard the shuffling of feet as the white-haired girl grabbed her guitar and dragged her drummer out. Politely, Catra made the least amount of required smalltalk to excuse herself from a conversation with the other two, and went to sulk back in her corner of the corridor, wary of those new people that entered the room as the duo left for the front.

Oh. Of course. A spotlight on a podium - the strongest magnet for a trickster. They were sporting a pair of tight ripped jeans - HER tight ripped jeans - around their sexy hips, and a tank top that left their slim belly exposed, begging to be caressed. She shook her head - those were not the kind of thoughts she needed right now. Double Trouble, not even bothering to disguise themelves beyond the minimal amount of glam eyeshadow and transition hairdye required to perform in a place like this, seemed to be casually flirting with what Catra assumed to be their drummer. Something jolted in her when they leaned against his arm, but she stamped that feeling out before she would have had to acknowledge it existed. Luckily, they didn't seem to have noticed her, high-fiving the other duo that had been waiting - ohgodstheyjusthadtolookovershewasrightthereshecouldn'tevenhide - and packing their guitar. Pompadour went to the bar, taking out a set of glasses.

"Drinks, anyone?"

"Oh, yeah, I'll have one for me and my . . ." Double Trouble stepped away from their drummer and pierced Catra with a glare across the room. "Date."

She was cherry, I was burned like the sun,
I get the feeling that you're my number one,
come on let's have some fun . . .

Oh, great. All that effort to surprise them - gone in an instant. Instead she had to deal with the embarrasment of being called out in front of a group of strangers as she smoothed out her skirt and pranced back into the room, pretending like it had all gone according to plan. The bassist didn't even have the dignity to look let-down, glaring at the new catgirl with a mixture of confusion and animosity.

"I object to date, but I won't mind you treating me like a guest for once."

They chuckled. "Then I'll enjoy the dress from a distance." They pranced closer, a fresh drink in each hand. "Hello, kitten."

"Double Trouble. I should've known you'd flock to the nearest spotlight." She took the drink offered, for a moment wondering whether it was spiked, but giving in to the hospitality. Drugging people wasn't their style.

"Unbelievable as it might seem, I do actually have a legit gig going on here," they answered, nudging towards the guitar on their back.

"Huh. Didn't know you played lead."

"Kitten, I thought you knew how good I am with my fingers." Catra spat about half her drink back out. Luckily, none of their bandmates seemed to have been close enough to hear. Double Trouble was grinning like a kid that just got away with a prank. She put down her glass at a nearby bar table.

"I can't believe you made me travel across half the continent and dig through a crowd for a fucking sex joke."

"What can I say, I make work for idle hands." They were casually twirling their cup among their still-too-long-and-dainty fingers, leaning seductively on a bar stool. Their bandmates seemed to be aware of their shenanigans, as they left them alone. She exchanged a quick, mutually hate-filled glance with the drummer before she looked back at Double Trouble. They were unabashedly taking in her outfit, as if implying she had put it on just for them. She tried convincing herself she hadn't. It didn't go well.

Damn lizard, getting in her head again.

"Does beg the question of why you went through all the trouble to find poor old me, kitten?"

"To tell you to stop messing with my life!" Now people looked over, growing silent at the sudden outburst of anger in her voice. Double Trouble didn't even flinch. She took a deep breath. She didn't even need to do the dumb counting thing anymore. "Also because you took my favorite ripped jeans."

"They are quite sexy," Trouble purred, caressing their thigh in a way Catra had often felt them do on her before. They raised an eyebrow, as if waiting for more.

". . . and panties . . ." she added quietly and through gritted teeth. The lizard unabashedly reached into their cleavage and pulled out the missing pair, holding it like a lucky charm, casually showing off but still hiding it from their bandmates.

"Looks like you could use a pair."

Catra's tail instinctively curled closer. Fuck, how did they know? She was pretty sure no one could have seen- oooh fuck, her breakdown. Gods damn it, she knew it had been a bad idea. What devil took her over and made her do it . . .

"Just, just give them back," she whimpered out, aware of how much she was blushing. However much she hated to admit it, she might have craved this kind of humiliation, somewhere deep inside, and worst of all, she knew that Double Trouble knew, too. Most likely, they had been planning on it. Or had they actually invited her to a casual after-work drink, and she was the one who decided to show up in the kinkiest outfit she could've come up with? Damn it, why couldn't she think straight when she was around them!

". . . are you sure you want them back, though? I could use a keepsake to motivate me to play better . . ."

Too embarrased to admit to herself how much it turned her on to get teased even further about it, she grabbed her drink off the table and chugged it down in one go. Instinctively, she retched as it scorched its way down her throat. Wow, that was so much stronger than she remembered. Looking back at the table, she saw her sugary drink where she had left it next to the drummer's much stronger drink that he had forgotten when he had left for the stage.

". . . fuck."

"Ah yeah, he likes them hard." They mumbled something that could have almost been a 'that's what she said.' "Don't worry, he won't be too mad about . . . how many have you had?," their voice dropped in an instant. She could feel their eyes peering into hers with an awkward intensity, reading her body like a book.

"Wow, uh," shaking her head as a sudden wave of nausea took her over. "Too many." She grabbed onto the table. It was too fucking strong. A couple cocktails she had managed somehow, but this one was the massive cherry on top that toppled the cake over.

Double Trouble squinted, a disapproving rumble too low to be human coming from their chest. Their face was an illegible iron mask. "Do you have a ride." It was less of a polite question and more of a demand. Catra snorted in mock. They put a hand on her shoulder, trying to make her look into those piercing eyes. "Catra-"

"Oh, shut up-"

"Catra," they snarled. She froze up, hazy eyes wide open. A tiny needle of pain shot into the lizard's heart. They had to get her under control, but using that voice on her . . . she exhaled, slowly. Don't think about her, don't think about her-

"Catra. Do you have a ride." A cold hand on her shoulder kept her grounded.

"Snuck out on a skiff. Can't have them knowing where you're hiding, can I?" An eyebrow almost twitched in appreciation. They were too good to let it express itself, and she knew them too well not to notice. After a split-second of hesitation, Double Trouble turned to their band with an expression that probably had a tiny 'Casual Smile #2' label taped to the inside.

"Well, guess I found a place to sleep after all! Sonny, can I ask you to pack up my bass? I owe you one. Terribly sorry, but with such nice fans, how can I resist? I'll probably be back by tomorrow, just toss my stuff in the van and I'll figure it out. Thanks fellas, seeya!" Slinging an arm around Catra's waist, they gently propped her up and led her out of the room again. Once outside, their facade dropped enough for Catra to push herself away from them, leaning against the wall for support.

"Fuck off. For Etheria's sake, I knew you were an irredeemable bastard, but this is too low even for you."

"You need a ride home, Catra, and I'm the only one here who both knows where you live and how to get there, and doesn't have a grudge against the Horde. If you want to claw my eyes out, you can do it tomorrow after you've sobered up enough to find them."

Catra looked them up and down. Their facade rarely dropped, and it was hard to assess them when they were serious. Okay, what did we have to work with? They were talking to her. Their hand was outstretched, as if they were worried she might fall. But they weren't touching her. They were waiting for consent. Those lime eyes, staring at her with enough intensity to melt steel . . .

Catra softly pawed at them. "Rawr."

She could almost hear their pretty eyes roll in their skull. Without further ceremonies, they grabbed her under the arm. "Come on, kitten. Let's get you home."