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To be perfectly honest the only reason why Alec turned up in Ruby's club was to avoid Sander Cohen. His father's friend was rather irate about a review one of Alec's reviewers wrote about his latest installation. The artist had been trying to corner him all week to politely ask, in his own definition of politely, why Alec had dared allow such filth to be printed. Because clearly the reviewer was wrong.

Sometimes it amazed Alec how Sander could speak in italics.

He'd been looking for an excuse to visit the club and avoiding Sander was always a good excuse to do anything. So a rather frazzled looking Alec Ryan, son of the totally not king of Rapture, dropped into one of the seats near the stage to watch the show. He was a rather distinctive looking individual with hair that just never seemed to stay neat and a scar that went over his left eye and down his cheek he got from the war.

Drink in hand he settled down to just completely hide and enjoy himself.

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Ruby can feel that her show is beginning to get a little old and a little tired. The only thing she disliked about being completely cut off from the world outside of Rapture was the far smaller pool of new music that was available. She wished, not for the first time, that Cole Porter had been among those invited down here. Her patrons didn't seem to complain too much, though, between the old jazz standards she sings and plays, the opportunities to drink and dance and mingle -- even her old gimmick, making her entrance by rising through the stage floor in a seashell like Aphrodite herself, after whom Ruby's club is named, nets her rapturous applause.

She sings around eight songs tonight, mostly slower ones, and comes back for a couple of encores before retiring backstage just long enough to change her outfit. Then she appears at the stage door, all bright smiles as she greets a regular, a stout old man who'd made his fortune in the canning business over at Neptune's Bounty, the smile becoming a little more forced as she yet again declines his offer to buy the club from her - that it really wasn't too much trouble for a woman to run the place, that she actually rather enjoyed it, and in any case she'd be going against her principles and Rapture's principles to even consider such a thing while she was enjoying so much success.

After accepting a few compliments, and declining a few gifts, from a couple of admirers, she makes her way towards the stage and leans against an empty table, lighting a cigarette, smiling across at Alec.

Alec smiles back at her, tipping back in his chair a little before swallowing the last of his drink.

"It was as good as they say," he offers as a conversation starter. He did mean it too. Alec wasn't the sort to just lie to make friends. He'd also noticed the admirers and the gentleman who tried to buy the club from her and the tired look on her face.

"Oh, it's your first time here?" She sounds a little surprised, and quite flattered. She also takes it as an invitation to seat herself opposite him.

"Surprisingly yes. You would think I would have managed to get here sooner, but..." he shrugs his shoulders. "However my critics have always said lovely things about the place."

He doesn't seem to be at all bothered by her sitting across from him.

Her casual, almost flirtatious tone disappears immediately, her eyes widening and her frame stiffening at his words. "Your critics? You--" She sits up a little straighter, a little neater, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. "I'm dreadfully sorry, I didn't realise. Are you... you're not writing a piece on the place tonight, are you?"

Alec barely manages to hide his amusement at her reaction.

Instead he lights a cigarette and says, "No, not at all. I was here to enjoy myself. I have people to write pieces for me. I just make sure they understand the concept of spelling and grammar."

He leans forward, smiling friendly like, "I swear, I'm not here on any sort of business beyond getting out of my usual haunts and trying something new."

Ruby laughs in relief, instantly relaxing. "Well, that's exactly the sort of business I welcome here."

"I would hope so. Otherwise you would be doing yourself a disservice."

He's glad she's relaxing. He didn't want to make her uncomfortable.

"May I ask what your usual haunts are?"

"Cohen's far more often than I'd like." He feels obligated to go as Cohen is a friend of his father's. And he gets all weird if he doesn't show up. Weird is bad. "The gardens."

He names a couple of other places someone of his status would go but I'm not familiar with.

"Places like that."

Ruby lights up. "Oh, Mr Cohen's just wonderful, isn't he? I followed him back in New York, too, and then he just disappeared. It was such a surprise to find him here, when I arrived in Rapture." Her face falls a little. "...He doesn't think too much of me, though."

Alec thinks about this one for a moment.

"Mr. Cohen is... something," he will allow. "As for why he doesn't think enough about your stuff... probably because you don't electrocute them..."

"There is that," she admits, her face something between distaste at Cohen's methods at admiration at the scope of his vision. "I think my sort of thing is a little too simple for his tastes." Too common, even though the word galls her to think it. Not pretentious enough, others might say. There's also the fact that she'd seemed to be the one person in Rapture who was naive and oblivious enough to Cohen's sexuality to think that it would be appropriate for her, as a pretty young woman, to try hitting on him when she'd finally set herself up in Olympus Heights and began to view herself as part of the upper-crust.

There was one night when he and Cohen were both drunk and they will never speak of it again but they had a very nice kiss. Fortunately Andrew walked in in time so it didn't go anywhere else. Drunk kissing someone who was sort of like that crazy uncle of yours was not... yeah.

"Everything is simple for his tastes. I honestly wouldn't worry too much about that. My own music is far to ... folksie for his taste."

Alec's put out one or two things, nothing really mind blowing or revolutionizing, but not horrible either. They're familiar sort of songs with a hint of Russian.

Ruby looks utterly enchanted at the idea of meeting another musician, especially one who appreciates her work. "What sort of music do you do?"

Alec leaned back in his chair for a moment and lit up his own cigarette before answering. "Mostly folk tunes. I've always liked the old Russian music. Comfortable things from back h... above." He almost says home before reminding himself that this is supposed to be home. "Father hates it but he's not the one doing the writing so I don't give a shit."

"Oh." She's not too much of a fan of folk music herself, associating it mostly with the left wing movements that her parents had sacrificed themselves to. "Well, each to his own, I guess. I bet you're good at it, at least."

Her response makes Alec laugh. It's a friendly, amused laugh, not a mocking one.

"I know. It's horribly unfashionable. But it reminds me of my godfather and biological parents," he says. "I don't know if I'm any good. I made it into the music program at New York university, but we came here before I finished off my first year."

It's one of his big regrets in life. Not being able to finish his music studies. Or, to be more exact, not to be able to finish college. No one ever thought he'd be able to get into one but he did.

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