Atomic Oscar's is in a nicer part of Novalectrum than the one Henrik has his parlor in, if only just. It's primarily a drag bar, calmer than the one Bog frequents though no less dazzling to the eye.

  Well tonight he hopes to dazzle. That's the point of a performance, ja?

  Humming to himself backstage, Henrik finishes preening himself in the full-length mirror the club keeps back here. Bog's coming tonight and he wants to look his best.

  His hair is a dark red this evening. He's made himself up to match and he's wearing a slinky scarlet dress, one that flatters his figure - after all the padding he's added of course. Those, and the heels, and...well.

  Being a transmogrifier is sometimes often. So in order to replenish his energy he often takes some time to come here. Perhaps he isn't the best drag performer in Novalectrum, nor the prettiest. But this place refreshes him.

  He does so love being pretty.

  A final once-over to calm his nerves before his performance. Even he can't discover much, if anything, to find fault with, though otherwise Henrik's always been one of his own worst critics.

  In his life it's been hard for him to decide what he truly wants. Far too many people have assumed that simply because he crossdresses and makes himself up he must naturally want to be a woman. But in the decades since he realized that he likes looking this way on occasion, he's rejected that interpretation. Whether he's a man or a woman - or some combination of both or even neither - is simply irrelevant. He likes what he likes.

  And right now what he likes is to take his place on stage.

  The announcer does their job, calling out Henrik's stage name - Sanguine Dreams - and the song he'll be performing to. There's a calm that washes over him before a performance, same as before installing an implant. He takes a deep breath, throws his padded chest out, and launches into song - the whole while feeling Bog's eyes following his every move.

  How wonderful.

  -----------

  Bog's in the audience, by themself at a table, when Henrik comes on stage as Sanguine Dreams. He's dressed up so pretty in all red, it's making the demiguy have to shift in their seat for, uh, reasons. Then he starts his song and dance.

  They've been at other performances similar to this, along with Etienne. Enough to know that Henrik, while still an amateur, has had a lot of practice. And boy there's something in his eyes that calls to mind the first time Bog started asserting his own gender, despite the shit that his mother and his classmates gave him in school.

  Henrik looks so comfortable - far more comfortable than Bog had ever been or could ever be in a dress.

  The implant fence watches their lover dance with a crooked smile playing at their lips. It'd been a hell of an experience at the time but now Bog's glad he went to this particular transmogrifier to have their wings installed.

  When Henrik's performance is done the crowd applauds him and he stands grinning on stage, exposing the cute little fangs he has. Afterwards he sashays off the stage - and then joins Bog in the audience, ordering a drink from one of the robot servers.

  Bog eyes him as he sits neatly, crossing one leg over another. "Nice legs, princess, you come here often?" It's off-the-cuff, as the things he says often are; but from the brilliant shade of scarlet Henrik turns under his makeup, Bog's struck some kinda nerve.

  "...princess?"

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  The demiboy takes a sip of beer to cover his own embarrassment. "Mmh. Sorry. Too much?"

  The next act starts up, the pounding music making it hard to hear what the other's saying. But Henrik seems to think something over. "Ah, I don't know, ja?"

  "Don't want me to call ya that again?" Bog asks.

  "It's not that," Henrik replies hastily. "I kind of..."

  "...or do you like it?"

  The transmogrifier beside him nods, not meeting his glowing eyes.

  "Want me to call you princess?"

  Henrik nods again. He fumbles for Bog's hand, the first time he's really done such a thing around others. Finally he meets the demiboy's gaze. "You're different," he gasps out, something unknown in his blue eyes.

  Confused, Bog blurts the first thing that comes to mind. "Mm? Yeah, glad you noticed."

  The server brings Henrik's drink - something mixed and fruity - and he distracts himself with a long sip. "I didn't mean it that way, liebchen." He's clearly searching for words to describe the way he feels - yeah, Bog can relate.

  They try to ground Henrik with a hand on his knee. It's hard though. This isn't the first time they've shown any kind of affection for one another; but it is the first time in public. Well, as public as a drag club gets.

  "How'd ya mean it, then?" Bog prompts after a while.

  Henrik plucks up his courage with another sip of his drink, his lipstick leaving a red mark on the glass. "It's simply...you listen to what I want," he admits finally. "Rather than making fun of me or calling me ridiculous."

  Bog stares at him a moment. For the first time he feels a surge of protective anger in his dead chest for this person. For the umpteenth time they're tempted to share way too much with him. Instead, he takes a slender, gloved hand again and squeezes it. "I won't do that to you," he promises - fuck knows he knows how it feels. "Seen enough of that shit in my life already," he manages.

  Henrik squeezes back, looking at him thoughtfully with light blue eyes like he's not really sure what to say. Judging from the bits he's heard of the other's younger life, this kind of promise hasn't been frequent or given with the intention of being kept. That galls the demiguy like he didn't know it would - he hadn't known those feelings were growing in him. But it makes sense, he supposes.

  Well, he'll have to tell Etienne and Torvald but naturally they already know about his and Henrik's fling.

  "What are you smiling about?"

  "Thinkin' about tellin' Etienne an' Torvald somethin'," they drawl. "But hey, you wanna finish your drink an' we can blow this place?"

  From the grin that exposes his fangs Henrik's very much in agreement with that plan.

  Since Bog's hoverbike is awkward to carry a passenger on they drove here in his lover's hovercar, a kinda beat up old model that nonetheless still runs pretty smooth. Henrik engages the autopilot and they climb in the backseat together.

  Bog pulls the transmogrifier onto his lap - awkward considering Henrik's a little taller than him and still wearing heels and a dress, but by Gods they make it work. The shorter person runs their hand up Henrik's hip and stops at his waist. "Like bein' called princess, huh?" He can't help his voice taking on a different tone than it took back in the club; hungry and marveling, all at the same time.

  Henrik whimpers. "Let's get back to my place, darling," he murmurs suggestively, "and you'll see how well I like it."

  Goddamn that sounds good to him.