For hell knows what reasons Lala had let herself be roped into going to Signature. It wasn't quite exactly her cup of tea and she was dressed for the DnB concert she'd just come from - inadequate for this specific locale to say the least. But who gave a damn? Most of her friends had poofed off to the dance floor, leaving her with exactly seven shots of tequila, a bottle of Absolut and some skeevy looking brand of orange juice. She wasn't complaining, but it sucked balls being the only sober one left. The place was packed to say the least, she supposed the music was ok and the booze was definitely ok... but her friends? Not so much.

Upon seeing one of her friends wobble on the stool and eventually collapsing to the floor like shiton of bricks she shook her head and downed a shot, slapping the glass back on the bar with a loud thump. "This is why you are not allowed out in public" she muttered to her overly inebriated friend as she was now being picked up off the floor by some overly enthusiastic git with leery eyes. Once some of her mates had returned to care for the damsel in the distress and promptly started to share their drunken stupor with everybody, Lala was just done. "No, I'm not annoyed! I'm just rolling my eyes and speaking in a condescending tone, because you're so bloody wonderful" she muttered to one that had just managed to spill the four drinks placed on his left and right attempting to get off the stool.

With a huff, she took the shots tray and moved to the other end of the bar, away from the sad excuses she called her friends. A few seats away some guys were hobbled over a godly looking box of pizza and Lala was just drooling. "Why can't someone look at me the same way I look at pizza" she asked no one in particular, turning to eye the awesomely red dye-haired girl next to her. She sighed deeply and shook her entire body. That was it. She was here to have fun, God's sake. She turned at the girl again and grinned brightly. Taking two shots from the tray she placed them on the bar and slid one towards the chick. "Shot?" she asked still grinning.

Freedom was a cocktail sitting on the counter. It was saturday night and Roxanne decided that she needed to get away from her flat mates before they drove her completely bonkers. Her leather jacket was draped across the back of her stool and a fruity something was swirling around in her glass. She looked around the bar of Signature, slightly unnerved by what she was seeing. Drunken baffoons threw themselves across the room and stunk up the establishment. Roxie sighed and took a sip of her cocktail.

A young woman a few years younger than Roxanne herself threw her hands up a few seats away, walking away from the intoxicated people around her. Rox turned back to her own drink, trying to mind her own business. It was so hard not to, she was a gossip and there was nothing that could get her to shut her mouth once she got started. The girl sat down next to her with a tray of tequila shots and said something about pizza. Roxie smiled at her and her pink hair that looked like a waterfall as it spilled down the girl's back. She was bright and neon and Roxanne thought about Jane dressing like a lunatic when they went clubbing. not that this girl was dressed like a lunatic, she had just the right amount of nutty.

"As hard as we may try, food always dominates in a guys mind." Rox smirked with a shrug of her shoulders. The girl grabbed two shots from the tray and slid one over to her, smiling. "Yes please" Roxie smiled back. At first glance, you wouldn't think that Roxanne Gunter could even hold a bottle of beer in her, much less a few shots, but looks can be deceiving. "To pizza," Roxie threw back her head and the shot slid down her throat like a river of fire. She put the glass down and sighed, much better than whatever she was drinking.

She stuck out her hand. "Roxanne Gunter. Love your hair, do you do it yourself?"

"Following that logic, I should be the proud owner of a nice pair" she snorted bitterly, reminded about her deserted fridge at home. Lala was the proud owner of an egg, a bottle of ketchup and some moldy cheese... God, she hoped someone would buy her food tonight. Her face however, returned to a dazzling grin as soon as the girl accepted her offer. "Hell yeah to pizza" Lala laughed loudly before throwing back the shot glass and placing it back carefully on the tray.

She sighed dreamily as soon as the burning feeling settled nicely in the pit of her stomach, waking out of her daze to see a hand in front of her. She grabbed the hand and shook it firmly, smiling stupidly, still thinking fondly of the tequila she'd just imbibed. What? She really, really liked the thing... "Lala Styles" she finally said, still grinning dumbly. She let go of Roxanne's hand to pass it through her curls mindlessly. She smirked, tilting her head sideways for a second, and just like that, her hair was slowly changing color - from under her cap a bright blue bleeding into dark purple at the tips, growing past the small of her back, and even further, only to fall heavily past the edge of her stool.

"Nope" she finally sad, lips making a popping sound on the p. "It sort of does itself." She smiled serenely and her currently blue eyes slowly turned a strange shade of purple, just as her hair retreated to shoulder length and the colorful ombre she'd came in with. She could show off once in a while. "You have the most epic red ever tho. Doesn't it bleed out?" she asked, brows furrowed and tip of her tongue absently playing at her top lip.

James was bored out of his mind.  He did not usually frequent this sort of place, the alcohol was overpriced, and he was never sure if a sixth or seventh year slipped in from Hogwarts.  He was a little bit more wary of taking girls home here than he was at other watering holes, but figured he had not been here for some time.  He knew he could not stay here too long, because he could really only drink two firewhiskeys and maintain his diet.  James wondered at the irony.  Working out near forty bloody hours a week for over a decade, and he still had to watch what he ate. 

Walking up to the bar and ordering a firewhiskey, James took a look around.  He noticed an attractive redhead as well as her friend.  He could not really hear their conversation, nor could he tell if her friend was worth attempting to take home at this point.  James decided that he needed more information (or at least  a better look at the friend).  And with any luck, he would try to walk out with one (or both) of them on his arm. 

Wondering on how best to approach the pair, James thought about it for a moment.  Like most men though, when consuming alcohol and presented with attractive women, most of his higher functions sort of flew out of the window.  Walking up to them, he opened with,

"Hello, I have absolutely no reason to talk to you," James said.

James wanted to wait a moment to see how they reacted before doing anything else, but figured after an opening like that he might as well follow up.

"Care to give me an excuse?" James asked the pair, wondering how they would react.

Roxanne’s eyes widened as Layla’s hair began to change color and length. When it returned back to the ombre pink style, Roxie’s clamped her jaw shut. “That,” she breathed, “is so beyond cool. I wish I could do that” To change ones hair color without harmful dyes and charms? That’d be fantastic. “I charm it so it doesn’t wash out, when i feel like changing it, I remove the charm until I like the dye job.” Gunter nodded. Her stomach clawed at her abdomen. “I don’t know about you, but I am starving, you want anything? I’m buying” She offered, enjoying the company of the metamorphamangus and hoped the food would keep her around for a little while anyways.

She waved over a waitress and ordered a double cheeseburger, knowing it would easily fill her belly and bring home half to a lucky roommate. The waitress left with both their orders and a guy  in his mid- twenties approached them with the worst pick-up line ever. Roxie raised her eyebrow,  recognizing him from from somewhere. She never forgot a face or the name that was associated with that face. Finally, Roxanne could answer his question. “Maybe because you’re an extremely attractive quidditch player for the Falcons” James Forrester, Roxie couldn’t believe she didn’t recognize him sooner.

"Can we help you?"

It really was a blessing and a curse, this hair. Looked awesome, attracted attention. At least if Roxie could change her hair like Lala, at least she could tone down the brightness of her head when she didn't want attention drawn to her. but, who was she kidding, she loved attention!

"It comes in handy" she attempted for blasé, shrugging once only to giggle impishly just a few seconds after. "That would make sense" she nodded seriously. "I honestly don't think I could keep up with myself, if I weren't a metamorph" she said musingly, concentration written over her features. "Hell, I probably would be bald by now" she snorted hard and shook her head amused. At the mention of food her face took a disturbing sort of grin and she nodded fervently. "Oh em gee, YES! Friggin' yes" she continued, fistpumping in the air.

She ordered modestly, not wanting to burden her newest acquaintance with some insane bill, but still... she offered. And Lala was bloody hungry. So fries it was. Just fries. You didn't wanna dance or drink heavily on too heavy a stomach. She grinned at Roxanne but soon she was distracted by some dude that was just—what the actual hell? Who talked like that? Who offered pick-up lines like that? Lala didn't know whether to start laughing like crazy or cry for the poor sod. Oh... Quidditch player. That explained everything. She shook her head laughing softly under her breath and decided she couldn't be bothered to be a harpy tonight. She was here to have fun.

She finally turned to look the guy and thought he looked familiar, but for the love of all she couldn't remember from where and neither could she give a rat's ass right now. She plastered a smirk on her face, checking him out with all the subtlety of a train speeding towards you at 300km/h and settled for throwing a look back at the shots tray. "Tequila shot?" she asked serenely.

James could not believe his luck.  Apparently one girl had heard of him before, and James thought that he should oblige a lady with such obvious taste and class. 

"As good an excuse as any, fair lady," James was about to introduce himself when she asked if they could help him.  Inwardly, James wondered if he was too subtle.  He knew this was the real reason pickup lines existed.  Not because other avenues of conversation did not work, but women had this insanely weird justification logic that made them think men just wanted to be friends with them or something.  Still, James was not one to let such an opportunity pass by.

"Ah.  You see, I cannot dance with mysel--" James started, seeing if he could not coerce them to go out on the floor.  James actually could dance by himself, but he was not about to let an excuse to hold  two beautiful ladies pass him.  He was mid sentence when her friend interjected, asking for a muggle shot of some kind.  James preferred fire whiskey, but was not one to quibble when a lady requested something.  Especially one that just blatantly checked him out. 

"As you wish, mademoiselle," James said, and somehow managed to signal to the server to bring a round of shots.  After doing so and paying, he figured he should at least introduce himself.

"I'm James," he took the shot and offered his hand.  "Are you ladies up for a bit of fun?" James asked, with an smirk on his face and a gleam in his eye.  James  planned on dancing with both of them before the night was up.  Though he was not sure if he could pull it off or not, James believed that he could convince the pair that there was a better way to move their bodies in rhythm with him.  If he played his cards right.