The Arcanist and the Atom Bomb

The lanky Englishman came into the strip club like an almost comic version of incognito from a 60's spy drama. Long coat with collar up, fedora, sunglasses even though it was night. He bumped into more than one chair on his way over to the bar.

"Uh, hello barkeep," he said haltingly. "Is... is Miss Celeste available?"

The large hulk of a man behind the counter sighed and rolled his eyes. "Sure, one sec."

He unhooked a walky talky from his belt and looked the other man over in a scrutinizing or of way. "Cel." He spoke into the device, "One of yours."

Seconds later the bouncy redhead came out of the back room, bright eyes surveying the dive before landing on Jonathan. She sauntered over to her, a sympathetic look over her features. "Get, Tiger."

The man in the fedora blinked and wiped his forehead with a cloth. He was sweating profusely, and looked pale behind the upturned collar.

"I... I'm not going to go. I have... legitimate, well illy-jit... *cough* I'm afraid I don't feel so well," he said. He looked as if he were about to faint.

She pouted at him and took his arm gently, a compassionate look in her eyes. "Okay.. okay. Come with me, okay?" Her heels hit the floor as she walked him towards one of the private rooms near the back.

Jonathan followed meekly, adjusting his collars so that they stayed up. He obviously was nervous about being seen here.

"Whu, where, where are we going?" he said, stammering slightly.

She slipped a hand encouragingly into his, giving a warm smile. "Down to my lair.." With a small chuckle. She pulled him into the back room with her, shutting the door, enclosing them tightly together. As she locked the door, the room began to lower with a mechanic sounding click.

"Oh my," said the Englishman. "I don't believe this floor is entirely stable," he remarked, and then frowned, hic-upped in a way that made it sound like he might vomit soon, and belched a decidedly acidic scent.

"Oh dear," he said, grabbing hold of something, anything protruding in the elevator nearby to steady himself. "I feel a bit like a toxic waste dump," he said.

She offered her arm to him, much more stable than he was.

"You're in bad shape, aren't you, darlin'?" She gave another sympathetic smile. As the room opened up into the lower half of the club, she gestured him along.

"Let's go."