Marni | at the pub

[Connor The Fireblood] (OK I see it. How do you pick a specific person to message?)

[Imogen Slaughter] (if you want to private message someone, you can click the box to the left of that person’s name and send a message that way.)

[Moira Murray] A blanket of light snow spreads across the city, painting it in a world of dull greys and pristine whites. Small lights reflect off its surfaces, blinking in the drifts that fall from the heavy cloud cover hanging low over the city. The signs were a beacon to any one that dares to travel out in the frosty temperatures continues to grip Chicago, inviting them in to warm places to get out of the cold.

For a new comers, Lake View is the nicer part of town with plenty of pubs to wet the throats of a weary traveler and fill their bellies with a hot meal. One such place is open for business, O’Patty’s sign blinking out front over the thick, double doors made of dark wood and brass handles. Glass window panes covered in frost to hide the gold-embellished writing.

The doors swing open, allowing warm air and music to spill out onto the streets for passerby to hear. It held a small stage; a sign out front on the marquee advertises an amateur music night. Inside, it is reminiscent of the old English pubs across the pond. Dark with low lighting, cushy booth seating and heavy oak tables.

[Marni] (sshhhhhhh. nothing to see here…)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 6, 6, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Imogen Slaughter] “O’Patty’s?” Imogen says, sceptically to Moira as they step inside. “Th’Anglophilia of Chicago has truly gone too far.”

Her eyes flick over the interior as they enter, Imogen a slight woman with shockingly vibrant hair, and pale skin like porcelain, Moira, a darker haired girl, taller, but younger.

Imogen is dressed in grey slacks, a dark blue blouse, a suit jacket just visible beneath the fall of her open coat. She moves easily, with a sort of truncated grace – moving only as much as necessary, only when she needs to. Nothing is extra.

She glances at the stage – empty at the moment, before starting toward a booth. “And you never quite get it right, either,” she adds as they weave among the chairs and tables.

[Marni] Dark dingy pubs, cushy seating and heavy tables, amateur music, and people getting drunk…

….SCORE.

Through their midst, around the tables, occasionally on the dance floor, one little Gnawer that’s at least showered sometime in the past week, is making the rounds. She bounces into a pretty lady, and gasps her surprise and helps her to her feet, nimble fingers flicking the clasp of her watch and sliding it up her own sleeve. A little ways away, she leans between two guys, smiling and charming, as she orders a drink, and deftly lifts one of the guy’s wallets and tucks it into her pocket. A handful of barnuts, a diet coke, and a pretty lady’s ring when she drunkenly shakes Marni’s hand and says hello.

Some days, it’s too easy. She flops down into an empty booth, and under the edge of the table rifles through the wallet to see how much cash she’s managed to lift this time. She liberates two of the twenties and tucks them into her pocket, leaves everything else and then waves down the waitress. “Hey, I found this on the floor over there. I dunno who it belongs too. Can I get a cheeseburger n fries? Thanks!”

Dinner paid for, she slips from her pack and tucks it into the seat next to her and settles in for some serious people watching.

[Connor The Fireblood] Connor was not in a good mood. He hadn’t been expecting to get caught in the snow. What he had expected was to be in the pub by now. It was his own fault for deciding to explore more instead of following the simple directions given him by the caern Gaurdian. Now he’d been wondering around for hours and the snow, light though it was, had started to soak through his jeans.
Finally he came to a part of town that seemed full of pubs and he felt his old grin sneaking back into place. It was never gone for long. His gaze coming to rest on a place called ‘O’Patty’s’, Connor decided that the hand of fate was at work and he’d be stupid to resist it.
He stepped inside and was hit by a twofold feeling of happiness, first for the warmth washing over him, and second because he seemed to have walked into an Irish pub. His grin spread further as he looked around at the decour. Oak tables, low lights, quiet little booths. Here was a place he could feel at home! All that was missing was a group of drunken tribe-mates, singing and brawling alternately in a corner.
Connor strode to the bar, his good humour fully restored.
“Mine’s a whiskey,” he said to the barman. “Best make it a Jamesons. Not gonna get any closer to a taste of real uisce beatha round here, am I?” Glass in hand, Connor turned to survey the scene, flashing a wink to the two pretty looking women in a booth by themselves.

[Moira Murray] A husky laugh is Moira’s response to Imogen, following after the older kin once they had stepped inside. The corners of her mouth drawn up in a cheeky grin, rolling back her shoulders underneath the black wool long coat that hangs open around an hourglass frame.

Where Imogen is mostly grey and blue in clothing. Moira is deep violets and black. Garbed in a simple deep violet silk blouse with the first buttons undone at the collar and black satin jeans. A scarf a shade darker than her blouse coiled loosely across the collarbone and shoulders. Her black hair hung loose about her shoulders, partially swept back from delicate pale features.

She weaves through the tables and chairs towards a booth, pulling off her coat to drape it across her arm as Imogen locates the booth for them. “I’m not surprised in today’s society. Americans have a tendency to copy everything and try to make it sound original even though it’s very retro.”

[Marni] She munches on her collection of barnuts, waiting for her meal, and watches the folks wander around. A familiar face, than two – and she waves at Moira and Imogen as they move past toward their booth.

And then there’s the guy winking at the pretty girls sitting alone. Eventually that includes her, and she just chuckles and grins a little knowing grin in his direction.

[James Berchill] ((think anyone will mind if I join?))
to Marni

[Marni] ((The tag’s say “OPEN” which means it’s an open scene for joining. :) Join away.))
to James Berchill

[Imogen Slaughter] Marni waves and Imogen inclines her head in answer. Connor winks, and though Imogen sees him, she makes no comment or reaction.

What might draw Connor’s attention, Garou as he is, is the presence of pure blood. Both Moira and Imogen have rather generous helpings of it, though their heritages are distinctly different.

Imogen fits a stereotype, almost precisely. Redhair, pale skin – blue eyes instead of green, but a British accent which is sometimes mistaken for one of the colonial countries. There has been, in her ancestry, those whom the Nation might call heroes. More specifically, those whom the Fianna may call so.

She takes her seat, “Is that what it is?” she enquires, the question rhetorical as she slides first her woollen coat off, then her suit jacket, glancing towards the waitress as she comes, surprisingly prompt, with their menus. “I’d always considered it a lack of original thought.” A smirk takes the sting from the insult to Moira’s countrymen, though all humour from her cuts in some way or another.

[Connor The Fireblood] Who’d have thought a place like this would have so much talent? Connor had really hit the jackpot this time. He wasn’t particularly in the mood for flirting, with or without intent to fuck, but hey, you couldn’t ignore opportunities if they arose. It would almost be rude.
For now though, Connor ordered another drink and sipped it carefully, enjoying the feel of the burn on his throat. Jamesons wasn’t too bad but it was not a patch on Green Spot. Oh how he missed Green Spot. Couldn’t seem to get it over here in the States for love nor money. Ah well, he thought to himself, you make the best wi’ what ye’v got. Maybe after a few more drinks he’d change his mind about not being in the mood for a little flirting. He chuckled to himself and took another sip of whiskey, taking a closer look at the girls in the room. Nothing to obvious, no out-right staring of course, but Connor was a master of checking girls out. And there was something more to the two in the booth. A redhead and a dark-haired girl. Both were pretty enough but it was the redhead that really struck him. Connor had always had a weakness for redheads but this was more than that. He heard her talk to the other one. Snooty tones, to be sure, but snooty tones in an accent unmistakably British. Connor narrowed his eyes, watching them at the edge of his vision. He was beginning to suspect there was more to these women than initially met the eye.

[Moira Murray] “Watch it, Doc, you are just as much an American citizen as I am… now. Unless your visa’s run dry and you are in hiding to keep from getting deported.” She was not insulted to say the least, the dark haired kin never cared much for politics as she replies.

Her gaze wanders over the pub, first to settle on Marni as she lifts a hand up to wave at the bouncy little Gnawer, and then towards the man that had winked at them from the bar. Blue eyes settle on him, perhaps staring a bit longer than is customary before sweeping away.

A faint rush of color spreads across her cheeks and she settles into her side of the booth, coat tossed in a pile closest to the wall. She gathers up the menu, gesturing to the server what she will be having. Moira the younger of the two kin – stood out just as Imogen did with the calling of her blood, so saturated with breeding it was unmistakable to tell to whom she belongs to. But, the dark features would suggest a different region that her Norse ancestry came from. Fenrir that ran across flat plains and emerald-covered cliffs as they sailed icy Scottish waters.

“Hm, I am certainly going to try something different tonight. Glad I don’t drive.”

[Marni] She grabs her pack, and digs into the bottom of the pile – carefully slipping the pilfered jewelry into the depths as she does so – and comes out with a tattered hardback book. It’s very presence brings a twist of longing to her gaze, though it’s not for this book, but another she gave up. A sigh, and she pushes the thought back. Sacrifice is supposed to hurt, right? Right.

So, she bounces in her seat a little to get comfortable, pulling her feet under her to sit crisscross applesauce, and opens the book. Tonight? It’s the adventures of one young wizard – Harry Potter. What? It keeps her mind busy, and her fingers still so she doesn’t steal more than her fair share. No one said it had to be GREAT literature… just something to read.

[Imogen Slaughter] Her mouth twists slightly, “I’m not,” she corrects precisely, “I ha’ a green card, not a citizenship.”

She orders a pale micro-brewery on tap, choosing briefly from the long list. O’Patty’s promises a wide range of beers on draft, so many that the servers cannot always remember them all.

Moira says she’s glad she doesn’t drive and Imogen glances up, an eyebrow lifting, “Plannin’ on gettin’ pissed, are you?”

[Imogen Slaughter] Conner is watching them out of the corner of his eyes – and it is a sixth sense, luck of an extreme gift of perception that draws Imogen’s gaze toward him. She regards him directly, unabashedly, unflinchingly. After a moment, her brow furrows, and she turns back.

“Know him?” she enquires.

[James Berchill] The beat up Chevrolet burns oil miserably as it moves down the road. The truck smokes miserably and the check engine light flashes a neon green on the dash board. The truck steadily moves down the road, mildly speeding. Flecks of paint fly off the vehicle from the red hood, left black door, and right orange door. He keeps one hand on the steering wheel, another groping in the center console of the old ’87 Silverado. Since cleaning the truck about two hours earlier there is nothing to be found and the stench of the vehicle’s cab has decrees extremely. He smiles and removes a pack of cigarette from the center console. Marboro Reds.

* SURGEON GENERAL’S WARNING: Smoking Causes Lung Cancer, Heart Disease, Emphysema, And May Complicate Pregnancy.
* SURGEON GENERAL’S WARNING: Quitting Smoking Now Greatly Reduces Serious Risks to Your Health.
* SURGEON GENERAL’S WARNING: Smoking By Pregnant Women May Result in Fetal Injury, Premature Birth, And Low Birth Weight.
* SURGEON GENERAL’S WARNING: Cigarette Smoke Contains Carbon Monoxide.

He rips open the plastic with his teeth and winds down the window and spits the plastic out of it. He uses his tongue to remove one of the fresh cigarettes. He rolls the pack in his sleeve. Fonzie would have done this if he smokes. EHHHHH! Danny from Grease did do this. Oh those sum-ma-aa nigh-hights! The powder blue Duke Lacrosse tee shirt creases around the package. He reaches into the center compartment again and pulls out a disposable light, he lights the cigarette and lifts up in the seat to place the lighter in one of his back pockets. He notes the surroundings and sees a bar. O’Patty’s, the place seems to be relatively filled, enough to be ignored for a while. When needed to blend in it is easiest to hide in plain sight. He runs his now free hand over the Carhart jacket balled on the passenger seat. Jasmine, his M14 DMR, is wrapped within it. He continues to sing to Enter Sandman as he drives, the words he doesn’t know he hums along to.

He slowly pulls the car into a parking space about a block down from the bar. He pulls on the emergency brake and turns off the vehicle, placing his keys in his frayed jeans. He fondles in the dark to find his USC football hat, which he places on backwards. He jiggles the handle of the old Chevy and puts his left shoulder into the door to open it. He steps out and his smudged, black boots land in a puddle about 3 inches deep. He frowns. The bottom of his jeans are now soaked. He slams to door shut and walks toward the bar. He makes it to the bar and opens the door and slides in. He spins his hat forward and pulls it over his face. His mess of hair covers his eyes slightly. He sits at the corner of the bar and waits patiently for the bar tender to come over. When the bar tender finishes speaking to another customer, He speaks quietly, but loud enough to be heard over the noise.

“Scotch and Soda.” We admitted we were powerless over our addiction – that our lives had become unmanageable. It’s amazing what they will let you out of your prison cell to attend. He smiles and thinks of his many beautiful scarves and potholders made during the prison knitting classes.

[Moira Murray] “Pissed?” Not familiar with the term, she stares up at Imogen, her eyebrows lifting high to disappear under the low sweep of bangs. “What does that — ”

Moira turns, more physically this time, on the cushioned bench to follow Imogen’s gaze. Her eyes falling on Connor again. She shakes her head a little, “Never met him before in my life. I just tend to smile at all the cute men.”

[Monty] [a/s/l?]

[Connor The Fireblood] Connor noticed as the women looked at him each in turn, after all, they didn’t exactly try to hide it. That was not how the flirting game was played. You have to notice each other and pretend you havn’t. You have to pay full attention to a person whilst completely ignoring them. The one with the dark hair had smiled at him though and that was promising. Now he focused on her, taking in her features, their strength, their grace. Kinfolk, I reckon, thought Connor to himself, Kinfolk, the pair o’ them. The redhead’s maybe one o’ ours. Not sure ’bout the other. Fenrir maybe. Doesn’t matter. Makes the game more interesting though. Wonder if they know what I am yet?

[Kemp Oates] (Old enough/Male/at computer)

[Monty] [Ok. Have Kemp meet Monty behind the ‘dumpster’]

[Imogen Slaughter] (okay THAT? was an image . I DID NOT NEED.)

[Monty] [Sorry! *gets IC* NO MORE SHENANIGNANIGANS]
to bluebird, Connor The Fireblood, cricket, Imogen Slaughter, James Berchill, Kemp Oates, Marni, Moira Murray

[Kemp Oates] When he appeared it was sudden, or so it seemed. He’d come in through the back, through the back door back where employees exited to dump the trash. The hot date behind the dumpster had stood him up. So, inside he went, snagging one of the wait staff’s jackets on the way along with a tray of food which he started weaving through the tables with.

[Marni] Marni turns the page of her book, only setting it aside to grin up at the waitress as she delivers her dinner, and a refill for her coke. Marni gives her a [stolen] $20 to pay for it all, and sets some of the change aside for a tip, as she scoots the book forward a bit, tipping it under the edge of her plate to keep it open, so that she can read and use both hands to eat the messy burger at the same time.

Some days, it’s all about Multi-Tasking.

[Imogen Slaughter] Pissed? “Drunk,” Imogen explains concisely.

“Hm.” A quiet sound. “He’s Garou, I think.” Conner, she means. The waitress returns with their drinks, setting both down, and asking if they’re planning on eating. Imogen says she needs more time – the waitress leaves.

Connor is watching Moira now. Imogen gets to her feet. “I’ll be right back.”

She slides from the booth, and heads toward Connor’s seat at the bar.

[Kemp Oates] Long shaggy hair hung down pass his collar and did a fair job of hanging in his eyes. The tray was balanced up in the palm of one hand with his shoulder for support and the smell of food and drink was heaven. Someone had ordered two steaks, potato skins, salad and grilled bread; a meal they weren’t going to receive. No idea who’s order he’d snagged, the tall lanky form wove through the tables like born to the job. Whistling under his breath as he went.

[Moira Murray] Moira blinks as Imogen explains what it means, her nose crinkling up a little. She watches her get up, nodding her head as Moira reached out to pick up the pint that was set down on the table and pulls it over in front of her. Hands wrap around the tall glass, lifting it up as she sips at it.

Eyebrows drawing inward as at the taste and coughs. She sets it down again, running her tongue across her lower lip and looks around the pub. Blinking as she spies Kemp weaving his way through the tables with a tray ‘stolen’ food in his hand, like he worked here. She plucks up a napkin from the dispenser on the table and crumbles it up make a ball and throws it at his head when he gets within reach.

[James Berchill] The bartender quickly makes the drink and sets it in front of him. The smokey smell of the scotch permeates his nostrils even in a bar filled with billions of other particles which cause scent floating about. He touches the rock glass, its cold to the touch. A bit more ice than I would have liked. He lifts himself off of the seat and fudges with his back pocket until he pulls out a shoddy looking black wallet. He pulls out a twenty and sets it on the bar.

“Leave it open” Again, he is quiet — barely able to be heard over the bar noise. He notes that he still has the cigarette in his mouth. He notes the bartender staring at him upset. Chicago smoking ban started on January 1, 2008. Fuck. He frowns.

“Sorry.” He takes the cigarette out of his mouth and pinches the end of it with his fingers to put it out. The embers of the cigarette burn slightly against his skin. When the cigarette is out, he smiles at the bartender awkwardly and places the outed cigarette in the front pocket with his keys. He again touches the scotch and soda. Still cold to the touch, he lifts it to his lips and enjoys the warming sensation and smokey taste as it runs down his throat. Remember that we deal with alcohol, cunning, baffling, powerful! Without help it is too much for us. But there is One who has all power. That One is God. May you find Him now! He allows the glass to set on his lips for a few seconds and then he sets it down again at the bar. It isn’t the highest grade he has ever tasted, yet it isn’t the worst. Clan McGregors? No, he can’t put his finger on the taste. He looks around the bar slightly, admiring the patrons. He notices two he has seen before. He quickly faces toward his drink again and stares into the half drank glass.

[Kemp Oates] He passed right by the waitress as she left Imogen and Moira’s table. Right pass Imogen, turning slightly so the upwards arm and tray helped shield his face, when she headed for the bar. As he passed Marni’s seat he slowed enough to pull a beer down off the tray, take a slug from it before sliding it onto her table.

“Your….”

Belched

“..drink.”

The sleeves of the wait jacket were too short, the shoulders binding, hampering his movements somewhat as the front flaps swung back and forth with his jaunty saunter towards Moira at the table.

[Marni] She glances up as Kemp drops off a beer – AFTER taking a drink of it, and laughs, her dark eyes sparkling with mirth as he moves on. “Thanks. Come back later for your tip!”

She shakes her head, and watches as he heads toward Moira, a brow arching slightly – clearly amused as she shoves another bite of her burger into her mouth.

[Kemp Oates] “Heh, got your dinner lady. Steak overdone. Some old backed potatoes they stole the guts from and filled in with what smells like bacon and sour cream and cheese. Bread feels cold.”

He set the plate down in front of Moira, sticking his finger in the bread as he noted it’s temperature.

“Oh and rabbit food.”

Remarked on the salad.

“Ya drinking beer, cause like, there’s only one and hey, so not my fault.”

[Moira Murray] Somewhere within the mix of patrons and shenanigans going on in the pub, Moira starts to laugh. She covers her mouth with her left hand, to muffle a giggling fit that threatens to slip loose as Kemp ‘waits’ tables. She watches him saunter over, her gaze turned from him for a moment to watch the bar.

Marni continues to munch on a burger, Imogen went to speak with Connor, and James (the crazy strider) stares down into his drink after noticing the women he talked to from the other day.

She tilts her head up at Kemp as he starts to set the stolen food down. “There’s two beers here already, one of which is Imogen’s. So, I guess the third is yours.” She shakes her head at him, hissing softly, “Sit down and take that off before someone sees you.”

[Kemp Oates] He sat the other plate down in Imogen’s spot, sticking his finger in her baked potato.

“Yeah, that’s still warm.”

The finger went from the potato to his mouth as he sucked on the end of his finger and smacked his lips as if testing the flavor.

“Though if you’re lactose intolerant, that sour cream is gonna give ya the runs.”

[Connor The Fireblood] Connor finishes his drink and see’s the redhead approaching. He smiles, more to himself than to her. Reckon I’ve been made, he thinks to himself, but maybe these kin can give me some info anyway. Could do with knowin’ abit more of the politics of the area: namely, who I should ‘n’ shouldn’t piss off. He considers speaking to the redhead for a moment but decides to play his cards close to his chest and let her make the first move. He settles for a nod and some knowing eye-contact.
Somewhere in the background, he hears the other woman laugh. It’s a nice sound. There’s too many of us that don’t laugh these days, he thinks to himself.

[Kemp Oates] “Take what off? This jacket? This fine, land of the Ompaloopa jacket? Oh Hell no, not till I get all my tips.”

With that he turned, showing off the ill fitting jacket.

“Ain’t it just me?”

[Moira Murray] “You look like an overgrown midget in that jacket. I’ll give you a tip.”

Moira shakes her head at him, taking another pull from the pint in her hand. She eyes the plates of food warily, and then glances around at the pub. “Where did you get these from?”

[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen, as she passes Kemp, turns her head sharply to watch him go, her eyebrows drawing in slightly in a puzzled expression. His super-duper-subtle attempts at obfuscation do not quite fool her.

She shakes her head slightly, dismissing the insanity of one insane Rotagar and closes the distance between herself and the bar or specifically, herself and Connor. Most would be of a height to simply lean their forearms on the bar. Imogen sets a high-heeled shoe on the foot rest as if it were a step as she rests her forearms down, looking forward at first, rather than toward Connor. Several seconds of silence pass.

“I believe,” she says, after a few seconds, half turning her head to look at him, “That even among your kind,” shadows of meaning lie beneath her words, “It is commonly polite to introduce yourself and not stare.”

[Adrian] [OOC: Room for one more? And if so, where is everyone?]
to Connor The Fireblood, Imogen Slaughter, James Berchill, Kemp Oates, Marni, Moira Murray, Monty

[Kemp Oates] “The kitchen, where else? They got this window up there and ya just go pick them up if you have the right look to ya. So I said to myself. Self, ya need the right look. And damned if I didn’t find it.”

With that he did the spin again.

[Kemp Oates] ((Always))
to Adrian, Connor The Fireblood, Imogen Slaughter, James Berchill, Marni, Moira Murray, Monty

[Marni] (James at the bar, Connor and IMogen at the bar, Moira and Kemp at a booth (where Imogen’s beer is) and Marni is in a boot alone, munching on dinner. :)
to Adrian, blue canary, Connor The Fireblood, Imogen Slaughter, James Berchill, Kemp Oates

[Moira Murray] “Yes, you surely got it, but we you just took someone else’s food I think.”

Her eyes widen a little, casting another glance at the steaks. She laughs again over her beer when does a little spin. “You may as well eat your steal, wolf, there’s plenty here.”

She gestures to the plates of food again, and looks back towards the bar briefly as Imogen speaks to Connor and then back to the spinning Rotagar. “Goofball.”

[Connor The Fireblood] Connor turns to face her directly, a friendly smile on his face and only the slightest hint of mischeif behind his green eyes.
“Sincere apologies,” he said, still smiling. “I find misself in an unfamiliar city ‘n’ it seems to have relieved me ‘o’ my manners. Name’s Connor.” He held out a hand to her. All the while his gaze said: I know ‘n’ you know but who’s gonna take the leap first?.

[Kemp Oates] “They will make more. That’s what kitchens are for, making food. Besides, you should see in there, food all over the place. Excuse me a moment.”

Tray tucked under one arm he stepped over to another table, leaning towards the diners in what had to be a bit unnerving moment for them.

“How’s the food folks? I made it myself so I’m sure ya like it plenty. Can I get ya anything else? Hmmm? What’s that? You’re fine? Great, don’t forget a big tip for your waiter, we work hard.”

Then it was to Marni’s table he went.

“How’s the beer? Too warm, too cold? Ya need a refill? Meal good?”

[James Berchill] He lifts the drink to his mouth again. His lips, slightly cracked on one corner burns as he allows the liquor to hit them. He uses his other hand to lightly tap the glass and allow a few ice cubes to fall into his mouth. He sets the glass down and crunches slowly on the ice. Water is one of the only compounds that is lighter as a solid than a liquid. Hydrogen bonding. He studies his drink, but before he knows it the bartender is back and staring at him.

“Another. How much for the not so cheap stuff?” He hears the price and fondles for his wallet again. He pulls out another 20 and sets it on the bar. That should cover whatever the tender said. He waits while the tender pours another scotch and soda. He sees the tender grab for the ice scoop and leans over the bar and grabs the tenders hand.

“No ice” The tender stares at him somewhat caught off guard and confused. James lets go of the tender’s hand and sits back down slowly. Brilliant. Because that won’t care attention to yourself. I glass is set in front of him cautiously and the tender slowly backs away from him.

“I’m sorry…” the words seem to trail off. The tender is much to far away to hear his words anyway.

[Marni] She can’t help but laugh, her book forgotten as she watches Kemp’s antics. Then he comes over to make sure she’s doing well, and she snags a dollar from her stash and offers it to him. “Meals pretty damn good – beer’s good – service is the best I’ve ever seen. Here’s your tip.”

And she’s reaches forward and tucks the dollar into his belt at his hip, and winks. “Another dollar in it for ya if you shake that ass…”

Incorrigible, Marni.

[Kemp Oates] “Make if two and ya got a deal.”

Replied when the dollar was tucked and the offer made.

[Monty] Fine dining, food, wine, laughter, love, conviviality–these are the things that Monty lives for, that set his great four chambered heart thudding and beating in his voluminous chest like some vast meat tambourine played in the hands of the culinary gods. The thought of meat drippings at the bottom of the pan. The fine crustings of sugar along the rim of an artful confectionery. A great bottle of sack, warmed and spiced by some roaring fire. If there is one part of his Fenrir heritage that sets Monty’s hams a-quivering, it’s the thought of the fine viands served up in Valhalla. Now that always sounded like the kind of place he could finally slake his prodigious appetites.

Work has kept him in the office now, but nothing will bar him from food at this late hour. His stomach has become more voracious than Maelstrom, a quivering and groaning hole whose event horizon expands ever outward with every passing minute. Starving, dreaming of fine roast buck, of glazed ham hocks, of bevies of roasted quail, of scones slathered in hummingbird tongue pate, Monty pushes open the door to the bar, and steps inside, eyes gleaming with the fire and hunger of the flames of the Inferno itself.

[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen does not smile back. It is unfortunate – Connor had eyed her first with the intention of flirtation – but given the slender kinwoman’s demeanour, this possibility seems unlikely.

Her eyes lower to the offered hand, and a second later, she takes it. Her grip is cool and firm in Connor’s. “Imogen Slaughter,” she says.

Then, “New here then, are you?” The irishman might well place her accent to Cornwall, and the far south of it, at that. It is tempered by education, but still, not quite the Pony and Pimms accent of the British elite.

[Marni] She grabs two more – not like it’s her money anyway – and tucks the dollarbills into his belt with a chuckle. “Deal. Shake what ya mama gave ya….”

A brow arches and she takes a bite of her burger and waits.

[Kemp Oates] He winked, turned and did his best shake right towards Monty who had just entered. Though his best shake might look like he was having a seizure.

“Monty old man! Where ya been? I ain’t seen ya in, like forever.”

He leaned back, eying Monty with a low whistle.

“Ya lose weight? Damn, got a girlish figure going on.”

With that he turned, signaling to follow over one shoulder.

“Come on, I got a special table for ya.”

Tables were best when someone was large because getting stuck in a booth had to suck.

[Adrian] There’s a thing. Somehow, by coincidence, by fate, by whatever means finite beings choose to ascribe, like calls to like. A gathering of kin and Garou are going to bring more of the same to them, wanted or not, and it’s even more likely to happen, for whatever reason, when there’s Breeding (which is not to be confused with breeding, though sometimes they mirror each other). Adrian is new to Chicago, new enough that the only boxes unpacked are the essentials – enough for clean clothes (stylish, but not overly expensive – knock offs of the current season, perhaps), for his books, for his display. He doesn’t know anyone, doesn’t have anyone to join at a bar or table, or even at a restaurant.

Still, he somehow manages to find himself in an establishment full of Rage, and those who can handle it better than most.

On a Monday night, it’s unlikely the place is overly crowded. The bar may be starting to show signs of life aside from the kin and Garou who sit at it, but the tables and booths are beginning to clear as people realize they have work and school in the morning. It’s into this that Adrian walks, and waits for a bored hostess to direct him to a seat. There’s a vague, subtle aura of Breeding (again, not to be mistaken for its lower case sister) about the tall, not-skinny-enough-to-be-gaunt young man. His path brings him past Connor, James and Imogen, and not far from Kemp, Moira and Marni (and Monty). Anyone who looks his way gets a nod, and the almost-shy beginnings of a smile.

[Connor The Fireblood] Connor noted well the second’s pause before she took his hand and noted equally well the firmness of her grip. Her body language was just as firm, like iron in fact. Ah Jaysis Christ, thinks Connor, I’ve gone n pissed off an ice maiden. I just bet she’s someone important round here too.
“Slaughter, you say?” he mused. “I know the name. It’s a strong name for a strong line from what I’ve heard.” The mischeif was gone from his eyes now and there was nothing save first impressions to belie the compliment. He tried again to place her accent but couldn’t. It was English certainly but he had never been an expert when it came to England and it’s counties.
“Aye I’m new in town,” he confirmed. “Can I buy you a sensible drink?” He raised the empty whiskey glass in his hand as an indication of just what his idea of a sensible drink was.

[James Berchill] He stands and leaves his scotch unattended as he traverses the bar. He moves his hat mindlessly and then pulls it farther down on his face. He slouches over to conceal it the best he can. Then walks over to what seems to be an electronic jukebox. He pulls out his wallet and places a five into the jukebox. The machine blinks and comes to life. He hasn’t been in a bar for about two years, and hasn’t been able to fool with a jukebox in about three. He looks at the song list.
Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go – Wham!
Careless Whisper – Wham!
When Doves Cry – Prince
I Just Called to Say I Love You – Stevie Wonder
I Guess That’s Why They Call It the Blues – Elton John
He frowns. Nothing spectacular. He continues to flip through the cd covers till he comes to a band he can stand — Garage Inc. He smiles. He presses the button. C3 — Whiskey in the Jar seems acceptable. He continues to keep flipping through the Cd covers. Christmas song? Ugh. Continues to flip. He smiles at the sight of the album and thinks of New Jersey — Escape, Journey. He presses the button. EE1 – Don’t Stop Believing. He continues to flip through. He notes the Hatebreed, but shakes his head and ignores it. He stops on a Blink 182 song. Oh to be 13 again. D12 – All the small things. The jukebox comes to life and Metallic begins to play. He places his hands in his pocket and walks over to his seat and sits down.

[Monty] Into the bar he sweeps. He is an approaching storm cloud, black-clad in a tailored suit, whose expanses are more compassing that the huge fields of Arcadia. Expensive, tight fitting, with a subtle and tasteful cravat at the neck, a modest tie of deep, cobalt blue. In he sweeps, eyes scanning the establishment for food. For a pastry display case. For a rotating, spitted bovine figure over crackling flames.

Instead he sees Kemp, the tall, gangly Ragabash, strange and disturbing and familial. Monty’s visage blanches, mottles so that continental maps of crimson stand out on pale, all too smooth jowls. His lips, liver colored, smear back into a half snarl half smile, and he pats at his sides as if to ensure that his insides are not pouring out over the floor.

“Kemp, my dear, dear fellow!” He manages, and then, locked in by some tractor beam exerted by the Rabagash’s confidence, he falters and follows him to the table. “I thought you’d be dead by now, haha, you know, the good die young, I guess that means you and I… are not… well, not the goodest? No, that’s not a word, what am I saying.”

He stops, takes stock, musters resolve. “Hello, sir. Pleasure to see you again.”

[Marni] Marni just shakes her head, laughing. That’s her ELDER, mind ya. He approaches Monty, and Marni waits to see if the poor man looks her way – if he does, a wave. If he doesn’t? She just grins, then she returns her attention to her book, and her burger.

Oh, and the beer Kemp stole for her. TOTAL SCORE.

[Kemp Oates] He neatly pulled out a chair, waaayyy out for Monty to seat himself and for a moment he nearly pulled the damned thing further so Monty’s girth would bounce like a rubber ball on the floor for his amusement.

“Oh, but I am one of the worst Monty my dear. Besides, when I go, I gotta take ya with me. Remember? I promised.”

That would give the lawyer something to think on. Another moment and a menu from another table was snagged and dropped in front of Monty after Kemp stole it with the words.

“Ain’t your momma ever told ya to share?”

Then he was all toothy smile on Monty again like he might be sizing him up for a snack.

“Now, just sit there and take a look at the menu and…yeah…there ya go.”

Promptly spinning on his heel to head back to Moira’s table.

[Leyna Stidolph] (You are all doomed! HA!)

[Moira Murray] Moira – at this stage – just nestles into corner of the booth she has occupied, glass of beer in hand, mostly finished as she watches the pub explode with a rush of people. Some she knows, and others… well she hadn’t thought to ever see Monty again. Her cheeks flush with warmth and color, sneaking little bits of food from the stolen plates as she considers on what to do with it.

Her eyes lift up as Kemp starts to saunter his way back towards her table, Imogen’s beer left untouched. “Making the rounds, Rotagar?”

[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen’s mouth moves in a mimicry of a smirk, “So I’ve been told as well,” she says, a little dryly.

“I have a drink,” says she, tilting her head back toward her table, casting a glance toward Marni, then Kemp, Monty, Moira – good lord. Adrian, and James, of course are unfamiliar, though she does note them, if only for their continued presence – them and a few others.

With Kemp in the room, many of the patrons are finding other places to be.

Her mouth thins, then the expression eases. “I imagine, then, that you are in need o’ information about your family,” she says, and forward though she is, she is certainly taking care to avoid direct statements.

A tilt of her head back the way she’d come. “There are full-bloods o’er here who can do that.”

[Adrian] There are shenanigans. Adrian is somewhat amused as he notes them – a group of friends, or at least acquaintances, it seems – he’s content to listen to the banter around him, a couple and a loner at the bar. His path alters to the bar rather than the table, and he takes up a seat one away from James, orders a Boddington’s, shows his ID (he has a baby face, and none of the Rage that gets younger than he what they want) which looks suspiciously non-American, and gets questioned. Ultimately, though, he gets his beer.

[Kemp Oates] “Heh, got three bucks.”

He replied to Moira as he neared the table again with a glance towards Imogen and the dude at the bar. The other dude feeding money into the machine for music. And of course, Adrian whom he had never seen before but had a certain look to him and which earned him a second glance.

[Connor The Fireblood] Christ but she’s a cold one, Connor thinks to himself. I wasn’t that bad! And what kinda Fianna, kin or Garou, turns down a drink! Connor ordered another drink and decided, since he seemingly couldn’t win her over with sincerety and he sure as hell wasn’t goingto try and flirt with this one, he would ignore the problem and go back to being himself. He grinned widely as the burden of worry left him and turned back to Imogen.
“That’d be grand, Imogen Slaughter,” he says. “Here’s to you n yers.” He raised the glass a fraction and then downed half the contents, laughter dancing in his eyes once again.

[Leyna Stidolph] The taxi pulled up in front of the pub, the door opened and tattered worn leather boots flopped out into the wet asphalt, bound together with super glue and duct tape. Leyna pulled herself out of the cab after paying the fare, keeping the door open for Hanna. She clenched her coat together as she stepped to the for her friend.

Tattered and ratty jeans that were patched together with odd and end pieces of fabric. Baggy and loose on the seemingly gaunt woman. A curly mess of dark brown hair pulled back into a sloppy ponytail. She wasn’t out to catch anyones eye or being the center of attention. She was just herself.

“Hurry up woman.. ” She muttered in a gruff playful tone to Hanna. “There is a pitcher of beer with my name on it in there.”

[Moira Murray] Moira reached for her coat, digging out a small wad of cash from the coat pocket and peels away a twenty. She stuffs the cash back into the pack and scoots over to the edge of the booth. Before the Rotagar could slip away she tucks the twenty into his belt next to the bills Marni stuck in there.

“There now you have twenty-three.” She laughs, crinkling up her nose and settles back into the seat, her head turning towards the door as she watches new faces come in. Her eyes widening a little as she recognizes Leyna. “More Get kin…” She murmurs to Kemp, pointing out Leyna.

[Hanna Aldulfr] -A small chuckle left her lips as she got out and shut the cab door the exhaust blowing past into the air around her as she moved closer to Leyna and nodded her head absentmindedly, uttering something in Icelandic before smirking and speaking in plain English-

“Yeah Yeah, you got cab fair the beers on me.. lets go.. it’ll be nice to be in a bar that I’m not behind the counter pouring the pints”

-Curly brown locks bobbed and swayed when she moved, her form mostly hidden by the overly large black hoodie, hands shoved into the pockets lightly, her eyes looking around, without making her action known-

[Imogen Slaughter] There is a sort of indirectness to Imogen’s chill, as if it were incidental, unfocused, and Connor, merely the object in her closest proximity.

He says it will be grand, and she tilts her head, stepping back from the bar and heading toward the group.

“Gi’en yer accent,” a moment’s pause, too defined to be hesitation, “Fianna, are you?” One of the tables nearby is emptying. She moves through them, as they step, deliberately wide to avoid the berth of Connor’s rage.

[Kemp Oates] He followed Moira’s look towards the door with a narrowing of his eyes.

“Fuckme but they are suddenly coming out of the woodwork like roaches in a apartment building in Bronzeville. And funny ain’t no one but you mentioned there was a new crop in town.”

If he had more time, he’d deal with the situation. As it was, his time was short.

He flicked the bills with a wink to Moira.

“Thanks for the tip. Here, you keep this.”

The jacket was tugged off and dropped in Imogen’s seat.

“Make sure they got my number, will ya? I’ll catch up to them later.”

With no more than that he headed in a long legged stride towards the kitchen to vanish through the doors where a short time later a little commotion arose.

[Kemp Oates] ((To bed. Night folks! ))
to Adrian, blue canary, Connor The Fireblood, Hanna Aldulfr, Imogen Slaughter, Leyna Stidolph, Marni, Moira Murray, Monty

[Imogen Slaughter] (sleep well, blu!)

[Connor The Fireblood] He follows her through the room, taking his eyes off her for the first time in awhile to look around. His first thought is: Bloody hell theres alot of us in here unless I’m much mistaken. Off all the bars in all the world… He didn’t finish the thought but it amused him anyway.
“Aye, Miss Slaughter,” he said in response to her question. “Fianna I am. I’m the first to admit I’m not hard to place.” A grin accompanied the admission.

[Leyna Stidolph] Leyna chuckled, “Fine fine.. beers on you.” She said as she walked to the door and opened it, holding for Hanna to grab a hold before slipping inside. Her eyes cast a glance around the room, well she was sure now she was at the right place.

“I’ll go grab us a table?” She asked to Hanna as she turned her head to look at the other woman. Her German accent rolls off the tip of her tongue as she speaks to Hanna in German. ~German~ “And don’t get the American piss water.” She let out a slight cackle before moving towards an empty table.

[Moira Murray] Moira laughs, shaking her head as the Rotagar disappears. She leans over to pick up her pint, drains the last of the beer and sets it down again. She looks at the plates of food still sitting there, the potatoes and steak, another glance around. And she is scooting out of the booth turning to pick up the tray.

She carries it over to the Gnawer’s table, setting one of the plate with the steak dinner on it down in front of her and the extra beer. “Regards from the Jarl.” She murmurs to Marni and then walks away to find a busboy to give the tray to.

[Adrian] And then, Adrian is alone(-ish) at the bar, which is . . . well, it’s okay, but less than ideal. Then there are people speaking in German nearby, and he answers automatically, in kind. “Holen Sie sich das schlechte britische Bier statt.” Get the British pisswater instead.

[Marni] She arches a brow as Moira brings over more food, and she grins at her. “Thanks. He’s something, ain’t he…” No telling what, of course.

And it certainly doesn’t stop her from digging into that second plate of food. She’s always believed the city will provide – and Chicago is proving to provide better than most. She bought her dinner with money not her own, and then was gifted seconds.

Tonight’s a mighty fine night indeed.

[Hanna Aldulfr] -Hanna took ahold of the door and followed her inside, as she heard Leyna speak of getting them a table. Nodding her head on her way to turn towards the bar, she heard the German and laughed softly. Same old Leyna. Black boots took her towards the bar. She managed to get some imported beer, the kind that men would claim put hair on their chests. Her attentions turned towards the one who claimed to get the British pisswater instead and she shook her head-

“how about hell no” -She got her pitcher and a pair of glasses, waiting for the tender to finish getting the thing full. The beer was thick from what she could tell- “Come to think of it, if your drinking British pisswater, I’ll buy you a real beer” -She had no idea who they were but why not share the wealth-

[Monty] Monty eyes his menu.

For some reason, impossibly unlikely as it may be, his run-in with the Fenrir Adren has robbed him of his appetite.

And where his appetite goes, so follows Monty. He extracts himself carefully from his table, and glides, floats, glissades back out the front door, eyes locked on the ground.

[Imogen Slaughter] “It’s Doctor, actually,” she says, off-hand, over her shoulder. Kemp disappears into the kitchens and Imogen briefly watches him go with an illegible regard.

“I know o’ two o’ yer tribe,” she’s slowed down enough so that he can come astride her, and she can speak without being overheard. Connor is like to notice the choice of possessive pronouns that Imogen uses. Yours. Not ours.

“One is Oscar Taggart; he lives at a place called th’Brotherhood. The other is James Wagner – though I’ve not seen him in a good many months.”

She heads for Marni’s table, casting a glance toward Monty, as he leaves.

[Marni] Marni glances up in time to see Imogen headed her way. A brow arches slightly, questioning, even as she takes in Connor behind her.

She grabs her book and closes it, and tucks it into her pack, before taking another bite, and swallowing by the time they arrive, smiling easily. “Evenin, Dr. Slaughter. Who’s your friend?”

[Connor The Fireblood] A doctor, huh? You’ll be handy for the local Packs then. And what’s with this ‘yer tribe’ stuff. I could’ve sworn you were one o us. With a name like Slaughter too… Connor knew the name and had heard vague tales. But he put the mystery aside for now. He had to take this stuff in, it was important. Oscar Taggart and James Wagner, remember them, he told himself. They arrive at the table of a pretty young thing that had smiled in response to one of his winks earlier. He smiled at her now but without flirtation. If he had doubted his mood before, he was certain of it now. He very much doubted there would be any fun of that nature tonight.

[Moira Murray] Moira glances back towards the empty booth to glance at her coat. She weaves through the tables, making her way back to Marni’s as a way to meet up with Imogen. Her head tilting up as she greets Connor with a smile.

“Hello.” She says, a hand coming up to sweep delicate fingers across her forehead, tucking a stray wisp of hair behind one ear.

[Leyna Stidolph] Leyna looked over towards the bar to woman Hanna was talking too. Perking her ears slightly, Leyna had not met many of the others but she had kept mostly to herself. Which was odd for her, generally she was the first to go have fun. However she was stepping behind Hanna’s shadow, Leyna had been always been the louder of the two, the more dominating personality… it made Leyna feel kind of guilty.

Tonight though.. Leyna was just going to stand back and let Hanna have her social time. She took a seat at an empty table like she said she was going too and slid off her coat, leaning back in her seat. Just enjoying being lost in a room packed with people.. Outside of Hanna… no one really knew her.. or what she had done. She was unknown, forgettable and it was comforting.

[Adrian] “I appreciate it,” the young man says in an accent that’s English-but-not-quite. “But only if you’ll let me return the favor. I’m Adrian.” A pack of cigarettes (Dunhills) and a book of matches are drawn from a pocket – he offers the pack her way first, then withdraws his own and – if she’s taken one – lights both with the same match.

[Imogen Slaughter] “Connor,” Imogen introduces the aforementioned to Marni, “Fianna. I imagine he might benefit from some o’ what you’ve learned o’ late,” a glance at the Garou, “if he checks out, at any rate.”

A glance at both, “I need t’go,” a glance toward the Fianna, “Connor,” she says simply, “A pleasure.”

And she steps away.

[Hanna Aldulfr] -Hanna reached into her pocket, shuffling out a small wad of cash and peeled off a twenty and slipped the rest into her pocket. Slipping it to the tender she motioned over to Adrian-

“Make sure they get a pint of the good stuff, no pisswater around these parts, whether it be British, American or Scandinavian.. ”

-Turning her hip hit the bar as she brought her attention to Adrian as he spoke, as he mentioned returning the favor of buying the rounds. This could get interesting, it had been a long time since she had a drinking contest, then again, she learned her lesson after taking on a Japanese Native with warm sake.. ah the memories-

“Sure.. your on.. I’m Hanna”

-She had a very thick almost old Germanic accent. She even looked European if one had to guess-

“No thanks, I might do alot of things that ain’t one of them…”

-The tender brought his pint and tried to hand back change. She declined with a wave of her hand, dismissively-

[Marni] She grins up at Connor, and then nods to Imogen. “Sure – I’ll fill him in. If he checks out. Thanks for the heads up.”

And she gestures toward the other side of the booth. “Join me?” That for Connor, and a dimpled grin for Moira. “evenin.”

[Connor The Fireblood] Connor felt himself breathe a slight internal sigh of relief as Imogen departed. It took alot to make him nervous, to make him careful with his manners like that around a woman, but Imogen Slaughter was definately the one to do it. He shrugged off the feeling and turned his full attention to the two women, neither of whose names he knew. The dark-haired Kin he’d seen with Imogen before was even more striking up close.
“Hello,” he replied to her, a naturally warm smile touching his face. His eyes practically sparkled as they met hers. He turned to the other young woman then and nodded at her invitation to join her, sitting down in the comfortable booth. He was more relaxed now, back on home turf being sat in a pub with half a glass of whiskey and two women. He smiled wider. Perhaps there was fun to be had after all.

[Connor The Fireblood] ((lol it’s like four in the morning here. Good job I’m not working today.))

[Adrian] “It’s a pleasure. You’re some kind of Scandinavian, yeah?” Again, it’s not quite English, but certainly not anything else from the Isles. But it, too, is thick; there’s no mistaking him for an American, or even someone who’s been in the States long. “I study languages and dialects, amongst other things.”

He ends up with a London Pride, which is a step up from Boddington’s, at least. And, as the smoke rises, a voice comes, sharp and quick from behind the bar. “Can’t smoke in here, sir. You’ll have to take that outside.” It produces a sigh, and a roll of his eyes (as if to say bloody Americans), and a cigarette wasted as he stubs it out in the condensation ring on his napkin.

[Moira Murray] “One second.”

Moira holds up a hand to either Connor or Marni, or both. She quickly turns on her heels, stepping away after Imogen to head back to the abandoned booth. She leans over to scoop up her coat, throwing it over her arm and digs out money to lay on the table for the beer. She leaves the waiter’s jacket there on the table.

A glance back over her shoulder, she crosses over to join Marni and Connor, pausing to stand there as she drops her coat onto the back of a chair. She looks around for Leyna, keeping the skinnier kin in her sights and then joins the pair of Garou.

She extends her hand to Connor, “Moira Murray, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” The warmth of his smile manages to make her cheeks flush with color for a moment and she clears her throat, grinning broadly.

[Imogen Slaughter] “Don’t mention it,” answer to Marni’s thanks as she steps away to the table where Moira and she had sat, casting Moira a wry glance, as their paths cross, “Thank you for the beer,” she says ironically, though she is clearly on her way out – and the incessant, repetitive beeping of her phone in her purse is perhaps a symptom of the reason for her departure.

On-call’s a bitch.

She comes to stop at their once table, picking up the beer she’s left behind, and taking a single solitary swallow, before heading for the door.

[Hanna Aldulfr] -She looked at him for a moment with a brow arching. Scandinavian. He was a smart cookie. Her lips coiled at the edges into a slow faint smirk before she shook her head some, shaking her wavy ponytail about- “Yes.. Icelandic… I did not think it showed. I am not your typical Iceland girl, not blond, with legs up to her.. my legs only go to here”

-she put her hand on her hip or where it might be if she weren’t wearing the five sizes too big hoodie-

[Adrian] “It’s your accent. And I’m from far from where most people would guess. Should I let you return to your friend?” It occurs to him that he’s keeping her standing here while she has a pitcher and glasses in hand, which is foolish. “I would hate to have you keep her waiting on my account.”

[Marni] Imogen says not to mention it, so she doesn’t, and then she goes. Connor sits down, Moira tells them to wait, and joins too, and is careful to keep another kinfolk in her sights. Marni watches all of this as she takes another bite of whatever is left on the conglomeration of plates she has before her. Quite a haul – and it begs the question – where does the girl put it all?! She’s curvy, but certainly not heavy. Short but stacked, that’s Marni.

For Connor’s benefit. “I’m Marni.” There’s the distinct feeling of rage there, though it’s less than some, more than others. It thrums under her skin, and dances through her eyes. “Now, I haven’t actually met one of yours, but did Dr. Slaughter tell ya about the Brotherhood? One of them lives there…”

[Leyna Stidolph] She honestly did not mind waiting, Hanna needed to mingle with others. Leyna did well with just sitting there in silence, watching everyone buzz around her and mingle with each other. Noting Moira’s glance towards her but making no motion.

[Hanna Aldulfr] -She smirked some and motioned over to the table, as she picked up the items and moved from the bar- “Why do you not come and join us the more the merrier as they say right?”

-She turned, moving back over towards Leynas table that she had chosen. It was offset in the background as if it were away from the rest of the comings and goings of the people and their conversations. Setting the glasses and pitcher down she drew out her seat and unzipped her hoodie. Setting it back down on her chair, exposing her low rise denim jeans and tanktop that hugged her lithe and slender form. Nothing impressive, but Hanna was okay with that, as she sat, and moved to pour a glass-

[Connor The Fireblood] Connor takes Moira’s hand in his own and he does so firmly. Perhaps he’d use a gentle touch for a different woman but this one had Fenrir blood, if he’d guessed correctly, and the Fenrir respected strength.
“Moira,” he said to himself, as though tasting the word. He smiled at her again. “I’m Connor the Fireblood,” he said. “Pleasure t’meet you.” Then he released her hand and turned his attention (mostly) to Marni.
“Good t’meet ya, Marni,” he said warmly. “Yeah, Imogen mentioned an Oscar Taggart and a James Wagner. Think she said Taggert’s the one over at the Brotherhood.” While he answers her question, he looks her over. She seems…light, both in demeanour and body. Bone Gnawer I reckon, he thinks to himself.

[Adrian] “If you’re sure you wouldn’t mind,” he says with a smile – not quite shy, but reserved. He doesn’t give much away, does this young man, but keeps himself to himself. Regardless, he follows her to the table with bottle of beer in hand, shrugs out of his leather jacket (the pocket of which again contains his cigarettes) the better to hang it on the back of his chair, and offers that same smile to Leyna. “Hello, I’m Adrian.” He sits as Hanna does, taking up a position where he can see the door, and the other table and its Garou.

Better safe than sorry.

[Moira Murray] Connor grips Moira’s hand firmly, knowing how Fenrir respected strength. Her grip is not hard, it lacks the strength he expects to find. She visibly flinches under the rough touch of his hand and draws back her own back once its released, rubbing it with the fingers of her other hand. Her smile wanes a little, “Strong grip.”

Fingers flex and close as she listens to him speak. “James Wagner, Sandman, is a tale singer that lives over on the Magnificent Mile. He can be found at a night club called the E-Sixx, a bit of a rockstar that one was in his old age. Don’t him his greying hairs.”

She smirks, “I can pass word along to James if you like. I know him personally,” she turns in her seat, flagging down a server to fetch another round of whatever Marni and Connor were drinking at the table, along with a fresh beer.

“So, Fiann, are you?” eyebrows drew inward quizzically, “I haven’t seen any new ones in quite some time. Sort of miss their camaraderie.”

[Imogen Slaughter] (and I’m out! thanks for the RP everyone!)

[Marni] She nods slightly. “I can give ya directions – I pop in there now an’ again to shower and do laundry. Guess they run sorta a dorm for folks too.” She gestures, because she doesn’t use the Broho for that, and won’t, even though people keep trying to feed her and give her a place to stay the night. It’s like she looks homeless or something!

(….she does…. but that’s beside the point!)

“Someone else was lookin’ for Wagner too…” she thinks for a moment, and then nods. “Ah – it was after you bailed. The kin was lookin for him, so pass the word there too. Guess they know each other.”

Connor thinks she might be Gnawer, but doesn’t voice it, so she doesn’t offer it just yet – an Air of Mystery is so much more fun. (though it’s practically tattoo’d on her forehead.) “Been to the whirlpool yet?”

[Leyna Stidolph] Leyna smiled as Hanna came back to the table, “Next one on me?” Asking Hanna as she leaned forward and snatching her glass. Beer. Mmm. Beer. It was good. It was grand. It was missed. She tried to remember when it was the last time she actually had a moment to sit down and drink with a friend… and no dates were coming to mind.

She looks up over at Adrian as he follows along, taking a seat at their table. “Leyna.” She said to him with a thick gruff German tone. It was off though… neither Berlin or Munich.. Perhaps closely tied to far south Germany. “Pleasure to meet you.” She said to him as she grabbed the pitcher of beer and poured the dark golden elixir into her mug until it was foaming at the brim.

[Hanna Aldulfr] -Hanna took up her glass the thing half full as she smirked at Leyna for a moment as Adrian did join them sitting as if he were scared, or perhaps more cautious than anything. Taking a lengthy breath she smirked softly and cleared her throat-

“Alright Leyna, heres to the good times, heres to the bad ones, heres to the memories we share and the new ones we’ll make, and the reunion of family… oh yeah, cheers!”

-She smirked for a moment taking a lengthy drink as she sat down the glass after downing almost half a euphoric look to her features as she turned to look at Adrian-

“So, you don’t sound like your from around these parts either.. where do you hail from?”

-she nodded to Leyna for a moment as Leyna said the next round was on her, Adrian could get his round in there somewhere, he did say he’d buy Hanna a drink! She was less likely to forget-

[Connor The Fireblood] Damn, squeezed too hard, he thinks as he watches Moira rubbing her fingers. Stupid but not disastrous. At least she ain’t gone cold on me.
“I’d appriciate that, Moria,” he says, making sure to give her full eye-contact while talking to her and to smile plenty. Not that it’s hard to do. She’s definately a pretty one. Ahem. Get yer head in the game boy! Listen to what the Gnawer is sayin!
“Those directions’d be handy,” he says to Marni. “Sounds like I might get a place to sleep there too huh?”
“As for the camaraderie of the Fianna,” he says looking at the two of them with a broad smile. “I say we use this opportunity to explore it further. I’ll get the next round.”

[Moira Murray] “Actually, the next round is on me.” Moira cuts in promptly after Connor says he would. “Consider it a welcome to Chicago gift on my part.”

The grin begins to return to her lips again, cheeks stained with a rosy flush as the server brings the next round of beer and whiskey shots. She leans in, the edge of the table pressed into her belly as she leans on her left arm. Head canting to the side as Connor met blue eyes.

“Whereabouts do you come from, Connor, and what brings you to Chicago?”

[Adrian] “Pleasure to meet you, Leyna. And I did promise Hanna that I would return the favor – she bought me a drink, after all.” And no, he doesn’t sound like he’s from around here; he smirks, easy and casual, and brushes some hair back from his eyes. “Most recently, from London. Before that, South Africa, outside of Johannesburg.” Which explains the not-quite-Brit of his accent; it’s tainted with Dutch, and goodness knows what else from down there.

“Are you Icelandic as well?”

[Marni] Connor doesn’t answer the important question, so she takes it as a no, and watches Moira and him chat. She waves away another drink, she isn’t one for much more than a beer, and she’s got one of them already, still half full. Besides, she’s more intent on making sure she gnaws every last bit of meat off that T-bone.

Yeah, the irony isn’t missed by her, either.

[Leyna Stidolph] “And decent beer!” Leyna roared out before raising her glass to Hanna and putting it to her lips and started to chug the beer down as though it was water. While Hanna talked, Leyna continued to drink from her mug, until every last drop had been consumed and slammed her empty glass onto the table, wiping her mouth with back of her hand unceremoniously…

Her forehead crinkled slightly as she felt the beer bubbling up, placing her hand on her stomach and letting out a loud belch. BURRRRRRRRRRRRAP! That was the good stuff.

Without even pardoning herself she looks at Adrian and laughs slightly, shaking her head. “No..” She reaches for the pitcher again and fills up her glass once more. “I am from Switzerland.” She would leave it at that… He didn’t need to know where from Switzerland.

[Connor The Fireblood] “Very generous of you,” says Connor with a broad grin. “Can’t say no to a free drink. Especially in such good company.” Much as he was enjoying Moira’s attention, his brain was nagging him about something. Forcing his focus away from those beautiful blues he turns back Marni. She asked you about the Whirlpool, idiot, scolds part of his brain. You know they’re checkin to see if yer legit and you ignore a question like that? Get yer brain outta yer pants fer Christ’s sake!
“‘Scuse my manners,” says Connor. “I must be gettin tired. It’s been a hell of a day. You asked ’bout my little Maelstrom visit. I don’t mind sayin’ its the first time I’ve come across him but yeah, I paid my dues. Seemed to be enough. Nothin nasty’s happened t’me yet!” Connor grins.
“As fer my story,” he says. “I come from Galway, Ireland. Grew up in a Sept there. Ain’t much to tell. I’ve been wanderin free for a couple o years and I figured it was time I stopped still awhile. Chicago seems as good a place as any fer that.” Something in his eyes might, to the careful observer, have said that there was more to his story than he was letting on. Connor closed the memories down before they could take hold. He didn’t want to go back down that road.

[Hanna Aldulfr] -Hanna took her glass and took a lengthy drink from her own, draining it within a mere moments. Setting it down she laughed softly, a quick burst of laughter that rolled deep from her chest at Leyna’s actions. Now that was the Leyna she knew and loved. Taking the pitcher once Leyna was done with it she poured herself another glass and popped her lips together making a soft sound-

“8.7 Leyna.. I know you have a better one in you somewhere!”

-She turned to look to Adrian and nodded some-

“Oh nice, I’ve never gone to England! I should have been all over Europe, thats the one place I think I’ve never gone too, so is it true, does it really rain all the time?”

[Connor The Fireblood] ((Sorry I missed that question. Total accident as a result of me being a fool.))
to Marni

[Marni] (*L* no worries! ))
to Connor The Fireblood

[Marni] Ah, he has been there. She grins then, and nods. “Good. That’s one less stop we’ll need to make, then.” If he was accepted there, than he was checked out by the guardians and all was found cool. She relaxes easily then, leaning back against the seat of the booth, actually licking her fingers clean after she’s done with her steak. She hides a belch behind her hand, and then wipes her mouth with the back of the same.

She’s full.
For now.

[Connor The Fireblood] “Not bad, kid,” says Connor with regards to Marni’s belch. He pauses for a moment then produces a louder one with a wink and a laugh.
“Sorry,” he says. “I know, gross. But I can’t resist a challenge.” He flashes another award-winning grin.

[Moira Murray] “Galway… like the song?” He most certainly had her attentions. Moira was proving to be a bit of a distraction for the Fianna as much as he was for her. Marni brushes off the offer of a second beer and it sits there. Moira takes up her beer, drinking a healthy swig of it before setting it down on the table again.

She wrinkles up her nose at the taste, so unused to it. She wipes the glass’s condensation from her palm on her thigh before leaning forward again to listen to him. “I think my mother has relatives there. I am not certain, most of my family beyond my father comes from Scotland, though I could be wrong… then again a lot of my mother’s side of the family was Fianna.”

[Marni] She sticks her tongue out at Connor, and laughs. “You’re alright.” Pretty high praise, truth be told. She reserves the right to change said opinion on whim, of course, but for now, he’s passed muster.

And clearly has with Moira too – which is oh so tempting for the gnawer to tease about. That she manages not too (…yet…) is testament to her strength of will. Or just waiting for the perfect timing… Or something.

[Adrian] “A lot of it, true enough, but not all. When it’s not raining, it’s all gray and fog. At least more often than not.” There are times when the sun comes out, of course, when it’s hot, but there’s a reason places get a reputation for their weather. The majority of the time, it really is rain or fog or otherwise mildly inclement as far as most people are concerned. “And I’ve never been to Iceland, though I have to Switzerland. Only briefly, for an ill-advised ski trip.” And for other reasons as well, but much like Leyna doesn’t say where in Switzerland, he doesn’t give more than a purely innocent reason for his being there.

He swigs his own beer, and does not take part in the belching that seems to be going around; he’s well mannered, in a middle class sort of way. Not perfect, not stuck up, just . . . normal. In a group of people he knows, maybe he’d behave differently. “What brings you both here?”

[Lonna Larson] It wasone of those night sthat… well… she just needed something to drink. Something that went down smooth that wouldn’t kick her in the ass. Hopefully, her apartment wasn’t housing strangers anymore, so tonight she might actually get some peace. Or, well, who knew.

Who cared.

The young, blonde woman wasn’t dressed to pick people up, she was dressed to be comfortable. For some reason,s he ould make a men’s dress shirt and a pair of jeans attractive. Her hair was pulled back in a halfassed ponytail. This was the kind of place that she couldn’t exactly walk in looking too disheveled.

The Child of Gaia slapped a necklace on, astraightened herself out, and headed on in. May as well.

[Connor The Fireblood] “Aye, like the song,” replies Connor, fixing his eyes on Moira’s again. “Ye’ve got Scotch blood in you then? Decent bunch up there. Whiskey ain’t bad either. But Ireland is something else. Then again, Fianna’s Fianna as far as I’m concerned, be it Welsh, Irish, Scotch or English. Course, I’ll always love Galway. Ye’ve gotta go for the festival of Beltane! The songs! The drinkin! Best time o the year, Beltane!”
“Sure ye won’t have another drink now, Marni?”

[Leyna Stidolph] Leyna’s accent was still off for claiming to be from Switzerland. Perhaps maybe believable but… that was really up to Adrian if he wanted to buy it. She leaned back in her seat and now casually drank from her mug. “Give me time woman.” Leyna said to Hanna with a smirk. “Give me time…” She chuckled slightly, Leyna was not refined. She was not dainty, even for as thin and frail as she was.

“I have been to London once.. it is dirty.” She said digging a finger into her ear and scratching casually. “Though the way the fog rolls in from the docks and just seems to engulf the streets, is something worth seeing.” She gave a firm nod, pulling her finger from her ear and wiping the small bit of ear wax onto her pants.

She looked at Hanna when Adrian asked what brought them here… She wasn’t sure how to answer that.

[Marni] She wrinkles her nose and shakes her head. “Nah. I don’t drink much – where I live, I gotta keep my wits about me.” She grins at him, and tucks her curls back behind her ear.

“Thanks for the offer though. I’m good.” She’s just enjoying the show.

[Connor The Fireblood] “Fair enough, kid,” says Connor. “Disgustin habit.” He winks at Marni then flags down a waiter for another whiskey and a beer for Moria.

[Hanna Aldulfr] -Hanna took a drink of her newly poured glass and puckered her lips for a moment as she took a breath and let it out and tried to think over what she was going to say carefully. Finally she figured it was better off to tell the truth no point in hiding why she had come to Chicago-

“I’ve come seeking Burning-Words.. or better known as Gavin Adulfr… or better known as my Older Brother. He took off like a bat out of hell from the Sept of the Green were we were back in New York.. however, he just took off.. just left.. I mean.. I didn’t think I was that bad of a sister that he had to leave me”

-She took another drink, and lowered her glass some as she swallowed the guzzle and hiccuped gingerly as she looked at Adrian-

“You, what brought you to Chicago?”

[James] ((resumes spot at the bar))

[Moira Murray] The color in her cheeks was rising, higher as it brushed across her temples. Moira falls quiet, listening to the Garou speak as she sits back in her chair. She picks up her beer just as Connor goes to order her another. The glass touches her lips, head tilting back to finish it all in one take. Her eyes squeeze shut, nose crinkling. Her free hand comes up to wipe away a bit of foam from her mouth.

Empty glass slams down on the counter. Warm begins to flood Moira’s senses, blue eyes shining as her smile broadens. She hiccups once, frowning a little, but then it soon disappears. She shifts in her chair, casting another glance around and looks towards the door at the familiar blond. Moira immediately stands up, waving her arms above her head and calls out to Lonna.

“LOOOONNA!” and giggles.

[Marni] “Though if ya keep callin me kid, I might have to pour one in your lap.” Said with that same little grin – cuz surely the cute lil girl couldn’t possibly mean anything by it.

Right?
Right.

She blinks when Moira waves to someone across the bar, and in looking over, sees that James has returned to his seat as well. A lopsided grin, and then she reaches for her coke and takes a swallow or three of the watered down drink.

[Adrian] “A master’s degree. Or part of a course for one” It’s wry, the smile – this is, in fact, the least adventurous thing he’s done in his adult life, coming to Chicago is. He finishes his beer, then – again – pulls cigarettes and matches from his pocket. “I’ve need of a smoke. When I return, I’ll get us another pitcher?” To split three ways, this time, rather than just between the two of them.

Regardless of answer, he’s slipping outside for that smoke. To do so, he brushes past Lonna, giving a polite smile as he does. “Pardon me, Miss,” comes in a not-quite-Brit-and-not-quite-anything-else accent. And then he’s outside, for his version of fresh air. He’ll return soon.

[Connor The Fireblood] Connor laughs loudly and with genuine pleasure at the threat.
“Don’t mind my habit, Marni,” he chuckles. “It’s in my nature to give people nicknames and terms o endearment. Dunno why. Tell us a bt about yerself then?”

[Connor The Fireblood] ((ooo twenty five past five in the AM. Ouch.))

[Adrian] [OOC: Post out! No one will blame you. I’m doing so in a half hour or so myself.]

[Connor The Fireblood] ((I will before too long. Eyes are starting to itch lol))

[Marni] “Then make it inventive. Hell, the bum on the corner at least calls me sugar tits! Now there’s something that took a little bit of thought at least.” It’s all said with that same little knowing grin though – it’s clear she’s not really offended.

“Nothin much to tell – came this way via NYC where I as born an’ raised. Only been in town a lil over a week or so. Live in whatever Alley I decided to bed down in, paid my respects to the Whirlpool this mornin, and am just you’re every day streetrat, gnawin the proverbial bone under the darkened moon….”

A beat, and a grin. “An’ they all me Sticky Fingers. Ya probably don’t wanna know why.”

[Leyna Stidolph] Just the mere mention of Gavin makes Leyna down the rest of her drink. Looking at the pitcher and crinkling her brow. She nodded to Adrian when he excused himself and said he would get the next round. However she had a thirsty to quench, she looked at Hanna and smiled slightly.

“Good to be out huh?” She chuckled slightly and stood up. “Be right back.” She picked up the empty pitcher and trotted off to get it refilled.

[Connor The Fireblood] “Sticky Fingers huh? Reckon I might call you Sticks then. It’s not much but its gotta be better than ‘kid’, right? And an alleyway is sounding pretty comfy right now. I’m knackered. Unless you gimme those directions to the Brotherhood o course.”

[Lonna Larson] She starts to brush past Adrian, making eye contact briefly and offering the young man a polite smile. The blonde is lovely, statuesque, and the epitome of polite… well, maybe not the epitome, but stuff, “not a problem, sorry.”

She moves to the side enough to let him through. She has no idea they share a tribe. She has no idea they share a lot of things, and she has no idea who he is, to be quite honest. But still, the blonde steps aside and starts to head to the bar. The rather attractive blonde sits down.

She orders a beer.

She waits.

[Connor The Fireblood] ((I generally stay up pretty alte so I’m sure the opportunity will arise again. Good thinking with the Brotherhood thing. The fact that I didn’t think of it clearly shows that my brain is shutting down lol. I’ve enjoyed playing with you too. Thanks for showing me the ropes.))

[Hanna Aldulfr] -Hanna nodded to Adrian as she had to get a smoke and excuse himself to go outside. Stupid laws about not smoking inside buildings was ridiculous. But then Leyna downed the rest of hers and then went to get another pitcher of beer. Hanna was left sitting at the table nursing the remainder of her second glass. She seemed to be lost in thought, if not for the moment, staring off into her glass, before she took another long guzzle and finished it off allowing the glass to drain the remaining liquid into her lips, swallowing down the taste until the glass was empty-

[Marni] “Do ya cuddle?” She wiggles her brows at him, and then chuckles and waves for a napkin and digs out a pen, and scratches out directions to the brotherhood. “Go in the back kitchen door. Password is ‘blue balls’. Jenny or Reuben will get ya set right up.”

And yes, she says the password with a straight face – though her eyes are dancing with suppressed mirth…

[Marni] ((My pleasure. :) ))
to Connor The Fireblood

[Lonna Larson] … or, well, she almost did.

She got to the bar, close enough that she opened her mouth and then-

Looooonnaaaaaa

She blinked, and turned to look at-

“Moira?” blink… blinkblink.

[James] He waves down the bartender once again. His eyes mildly blood shot, the music finished being played. At one point drinking was second nature to him. After two years away from the stuff he seems to be easily touched by it. The room slows, though only slightly. When the bartender shows up he touches the glass and it moves, slides even, toward the bar tender — on top of the water that has accumulated on the glass, condensation. The tender looks at him and he nods. In the heat of battle it is important to read body language. Yes, get me another. The bar tender walks away and reaches for the green plastic bottle and pours him another scotch and soda. He watches the tender’s hand to make sure it doesn’t reach for the scoop for the ice. The tender keeps eye contact with James, the tender reaches for the scoop but doesn’t make contact with it. James shakes his head slowly. The bartender lets the hand drop and sets the rock glass in front of James. He smiles wryly and nods his head away from him. You may leave. The bartender walks away again.
James looks at the rock glass “8. Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all. ” He lifts the glass to his mouth and feels the smokey flavor fill his throat. How many lists had he made to get him out of that cell for a few more minutes. How many times has he said that he was powerless against alcohol. As if he had access to the stuff in prison. He grins. Prison toilet water can be used to ferment low grade alcohol. He finishes the glass and sets it down. The smoke of the drinks settles over him like a fog. The room blurs for a second and comes back into focus. In humans, common symptoms may include slurred speech, impaired balance, poor coordination, flushed face, reddened eyes, reduced inhibition, and erratic behavior. In severe cases, drunkenness can cause decreased motor response, coma, and even death.

GOVERNMENT WARNING: (1) According to the Surgeon general, women should not drink alcoholic beverages during pregnancy because of the risk of birth defects. (2) Consumption of alcoholic beverages impairs your ability to drive a car or operate machinery, and may cause health problems.

He allows the haze to settle on him. It was impossible to get alcohol while in Iraq. Soldiers were not allowed to drink it, offensive to Islam. He enjoys the interactions going on around him, though they happen more slowly to him than others. He admires how they move, a slow dance of life. How one bows, now one laughs, now one pirouettes. It is beautiful to him.

[Moira Murray] Perhaps, the pretty blond hadn’t seen her. Which would be hard to do with the way Moira was standing up making a display of herself with waving her arms in the air. She gestures for the sexy blond to come over to Marni’s table before sitting back down.

Moira offers Connor a small pout, the alcohol starting to wear on the girl’s defenses and lighting up her inhibitions. “I do hope we can meet again, Connor. It has been nice speaking with you.” She grins.

[Connor The Fireblood] “Cheers, Sticks,” Connor says taking the napkin and standing up with a yawn. “I’ll catch you soon. Take care o yerself out there.”
“Moira,” he says, turning to her. “It was a pleasure. Hope to see you again really soon.” He flashes her a wink then heads for the door. Of all the pubs in all the world, reckon I picked a pretty good one, he thinks to himself.

[Connor The Fireblood] ((Thanks again, guys. Was great fun. Hopefully catch you soon. :).))
to Marni, Moira Murray

[Marni] She grins up at him, just imagining the look on Jenny’s face when she receives a password to get upstairs. She gives a little wave, and manages not to laugh until he’s gone.

She follows Moira’s waving at the blond, and arches a brow slightly.

[Leyna Stidolph] Leyna walked up to the bar and waited patiently as he seemed busy with James. Once the keep was free, Leyna flagged him down with a slight wave of her hand, placing the pitcher up on the bar. “Refill please.” She spoke in a gentle rough tone. The bartender took her pitcher and went along to fill it as Leyna brushed her hands over her patch work jeans, at least here she could drink without too much fear.

When the full pitcher came back, Leyna reached into her back pocket and pulled out her worn and tattered leather wallet. She has had the damn thing forever and even though it was only staying together like her boots… duct tape and super glue, she had no heart to throw it away. Granted she wasn’t materialistic, but something she carried had meaning. Her father made her the wallet… like hell she was just going to toss it like junk.

She pulled out a few bills and laid them on the counter for the keep.. tipping him handsomely as it was the most appropriate thing to do. Giving him a nod and smile in gratitude before taking a deep breath and picking up the pitcher and slipping the wallet back into her back pocket.

She turned around and headed back to the table where Hanna was sitting, all lonesome like.

[Lonna Larson] She looks at Moira, who waves fanatically, to the bar, to where her beer should be coming from. The Bartender seems to be interested in whatever was going on. She sighs, then takes a second. She eyes the back of a man’s head. His eyes are mildly bloodshot, but he seems to have no problem getting the bartender’s attention. She sidles up to the male. The blonde hasn’t started drinking yet.

It’s a damned shame, really, butthat’s netiher here nor there.

She gives Moira a wave, and mouthes a few words. It’s either talking about ain increment of time (one minute) or the desire for a little person (want Midget), is difficult to determine.

Either way, it seems her intention is to head over.

“Excuse me, sir?” she says as she taps the bar next to the man, “can you do me a huge favor?”

[Echo Quinn] Just what the bar needs.

More Rage. The door is pulled open, and a tall, lanky figure appears in it with a flight helmet tucked under one arm. The visor on it is up, and the arm is slung through it, the uniform a rather unpleasant bottle green with Quinn sewn onto the right shoulder blade. The Glass Walker No Moon is pretty, in a lean, tomboyish manner with close cropped dark hair and matching eyes.

There’s an air of something almost mischievous to the way she inspects the interior, and the current imbibers of alcohol. She nods at Moira, at Lonna, at Marni — well, at most of the Pub, to be frank and makes a lazy swagger toward the bar where Lonna is.

[Hanna Aldulfr] -Hanna took a breath and looked up when Leyna was there, suddenly like a ninja. Smirking for a moment she drew in a breath and finally let it out as she smirked softly and shifted herself in the seat as Leyna had brought back the hefty filled pitcher of booze- “Hey, welcome back.. thanks for the refill! I could definitely use another glass”

-She hated feeling like she was speaking too much like a New Yorker, that was what she got for spending so much time at the Sept of the Green. Drawing in a breath she let it out and took the pitcher greatfully filling her glass to the brim, and doing the same for Leynas- “This Adrian person doesn’t seem so bad, quiet but he has a sense of humor!”

[James] “Now some men like a fishin’, but some men like the fowlin’. Some men like to hear, to hear the cannonball a-roarin’. But me, I like sleepin’, `specially in my Molly’s chamber. But here I am in prison, here I am with a ball and chain, Ya.” He sings it to himself. How many nights had that song rang true while in his cold cell. How songs seem to infiltrate the soul in moments of laxity. A tear wells in his eyes, but he fights them back. He looks again at the bar tender, and then at his empty glass. The bartender looks at the small amount of cash still lying on the table, and James frowns. He stands slightly on the stool and reaches into his back pocket pulling out a ten. Scotch is getting to expensive. He sets the ten on the bar on top of the other bills and slowly speaks.
“What beer do you have?” The sigh of the bartender seems slower than usual. His face seems longer, as if a clock melting in a Dali painting. The bartender speaks and the words seem to flow from his mouth like water. James drowns under the flood. He tries to listen intently, but then hears another voice. *caaaaan you do me a huuuuuge favorrrrrrrrrrr* the words seem slow, he thinks for a moment about the direction they come from and spins around on the bar stool, his reaction stunted. He looks at a blond haired woman. He smiles. Attraction can cause increased blood flow and heart rate. Another woman. He isn’t used to being so close to them. Endangered species, Siberian tigers — California Condors. Extinct, Dodo birds. He focuses to make sure he doesn’t sound as if he is feeling the effects of the alcohol.

“Hello, I’m James, but people call me Jimmy…” He stops. Stupid. She didn’t ask your name, your blithering fool “…rather, how can I help.”

[Moira Murray] To Marni – “My glass is empty. Did I order another beer?”

She doesn’t remember, hands curling around the empty pint that sits in front of her. Her eyebrows begin to furrow, twisting pretty features into a thoughtful look. She waits for Lonna to join them, barely aware of the Blond becoming distracted by Jimmy. Jimmy who she knows as the crazy desert walker.

Her chest rises as she sucks in a deep breath, glancing once over her shoulder just in time to note Echo’s presence and sees her nod. She swings her gaze back to Marni again.

[Adrian] On her way in, Echo passed a young man, tall and lanky, smoking a cigarette and smelling faintly of Fenrir. Not long after she enters, the remains of what he’d hastily inhaled is dropped into one of those smokeless ashtray contraptions, and he re-enters – now smelling of Dunhills and Fenrir.

It’s to the bar, then, for shots of something delightfully potato based – the best vodka they have behind the bar. This lands him standing next to Lonna, on the other side from silent-drunk-and-brooding. The bartender, occupied with the obviously inebriated, gets a look, and eventually registers it.

And Lonna’s breasts, even under her shirt.

Needless to say, Lonna gets her drink first, as is right and proper. She was at the bar first, and has what is a truly gorgeous rack as far as . . . well, nearly anyone is concerned. Next, Adrian gets his shots three, and brings them to the table. The pitcher will have to wait until Leyna’s has been drained.

“Here we are, then. I hope you don’t mind the liberty taken.”

[Marni] She laughs and shakes her head. “I don’t remember. Your gonna need me to walk ya home, ain’tcha?” Doesn’t seem like she minds, really. She’s a walker, a gutterrat, and the type that consistently is moving to figure out where she’s going, by retracing where she’s been.

Or something. “Who’s the blond?”

And then, Echo is there, and when she looks at the little gnawer, said little gnawer raises a hand to wave – and then points to the Strider at the Bar with the Blond. A clear ‘Hey That’s Him’ gesture.

Because she’s subtle like a freight train, Marni.

[Leyna Stidolph] Leyna placed the pitcher down on the table before taking back her seat. “Thanks.” She said as Hanna so graciously filled her glass back up to the brim. Leyna was already starting to feel the affects of the alcohol. She hadn’t drank in so long, her body wasn’t accustomed to it any longer.

The way her muscles were relaxing into that jello like state, her eyes unable to focus on the lights in the room.. giving everything that soft glowing edge. She chuckled faintly as Hanna spoke, rubbing the back of her neck. “Eh… nice enough.” She said to the other Fenrir kin.

Speaking of the devil.. Leyna looks up at Adrian as he returned.. smiling politely but not overly so. She wasn’t about facades or fake politeness. Only snobs did that.. and she HATED snobs. “Welcome back.” She said to him and perked her eyebrows up to see what he had.

“What’s that?” She asked him, motioning a finger to the three shots.

[Moira Murray] “Home?” Moira shakes her head a little, her hands lifting up, stretching back behind her head to pull at the clip that keeps most of her out of her face. She lets it spill free, combing her fingers through it before tucking the clip away into her pocket.

And then she remembers the beer that Connor had bought, Moira reached for it. She brings it up to her mouth, glancing over at the bar where Lonna is now speaking to Jimmy, and flanked by Adrian. She frowns, “That is Lonna. She’s a good friend.” Frothy beverage consumed, the beer is drained halfway before the glass greets the table again.

“What is holding Lonna up… is that Jimmy?”

[Moira Murray] (**her hair)

[Echo Quinn] Echo’s greeting typically consists of a jerk of her chin upwards, or a loud greeting called across wide open spaces, tonight it’s the first at Marni and a briefly amused smile for the others. Then: business. Or something close to it. She’s pulling up a spot beside James without asking and clunking her helmet down on the tabletop before her.

A packet of cigarettes appear next, and as she straddles the bar stool with her legs, she’s popping the buttons on her jump suit and peeling it down to her waist so that she’s in a long-sleeved sexy bitch shirt — that being, the writing written in bold red lettering across it.

“Sup.” She says to James, or possibly to James’ ear if he’s focused on the fabulous Ms Larson across from her. “I’m Echo, and you’re James Berchill.”

[Marni] She chuckles and shrugs. She’ll make sure Moira makes it home, one way or the other. She’s the friend of the Elder and also kinda fun to hang with, which is reason enough.

That’s Lonna. She’s a good friend. “Yup, She’s talkin’ to Jimmy. An’ now we’ve successfully sic’ed Echo on him.” Pleased, that grin.

[Lonna Larson] (sorry! didn’t refresh!)

[Hanna Aldulfr] -Hanna chuckled softly as Leyna came back and spoke some. Sipping her beer she shrugged some, glad that she had worked at a bar for some time, her tolerance was just slightly average. But Adrian returned and she smirked some looking at the shots for a moment as she took one with her fingers and brought it quickly beneath her nose allowing the familiar scent to bring a smile to her lips-

“Vodka!”

-She seemed alittle too chipper about this fact. The shot sat in her fingers for a moment as she sat it back down and did not taste it, he had not yet said she could partake. Taking in a breath her lips popped faintly and she found her lips coiling at one edge into a smirk-

“A man who knows his liquor im becoming impressed”

-From Hanna that was a compliment, the last person she was impressed with well, that was a long story-

[James] ((sorry, got booted…))

[Lonna Larson] They were glorious, really. Despite the shirt, one could imagine what her rack looked like and it was, in fact, a glorious glorious thing. She smiles, and takes her beer. She is about to say something to him, and she had a total lack of knowledge at that moment. The huge favor she was going to ask was now in her hands, bottle capped and she took a pull off of it.

“I got my beer, I was wondering if you could help get the bartender’s attention for me-” the twins did a good job of doing it, though “-I wanted to know if you wanted to come drink with me.. I’m Lonna.”

Beautiful bright white smile from the maneater. literally. The deathtrap with nice tits. Bessed be tht CHild of Gaia, for Chicago has no idea what kind of curse she’s brought with her. She shoots Adrian an apologetic smile, and finally the man gets his drinks.

There’s another there, so the offer is extended. Echo.

“You want to come, too?”

[Adrian] “Vodka, yes, and it doesn’t take much to know one’s liquor when one is a part of interesting crowds. I don’t partake of the finer things often – student budget and all – but meeting new people seems cause enough. So, we drink to that, if you don’t mind.” He holds his shot glass up to clink with the two girls, knocks it on the table when that’s done, and downs it without so much as a face pulled. It’s smooth, this vodka, and its burn is gentle. Which doesn’t mean, of course, that it won’t hit like a freight train after three or so.

Adrian hasn’t had more than a beer or two in quite some time either, and knows his tolerance well. Goodness knows, he’d been given opportunity to test it on numerous occasions. So now, though he’s drinking more than to which he’s accustomed, he knows when to stop. When he’ll still be alright getting a cab to go home.

[James] He removes the USC Trojans football hat from his head and uses the other hand to mess his locks. The air hitting his plastered hair helps to wake him up though slightly. The smokiness of alcohol coats his breath as he speaks. A few more drinks and he’ll begin to mouth breathe. He shuts his mouth at this thought. Does anyone really like a mouth breather? His eyes move to the upper right corner of their sockets as he ponders this thought. A moment later he focuses on Lonna, or rather allows his eyes to settle on her as she becomes one flowing object rather than three. He shakes his head and puts the cap back on, pushing his hair over his eyes. He notes how people have begun to gather around him. He contemplates whether this is because of him, or the large quantity of alcohol behind him at the bar. He knows the faces of the people staring at him, and tries to relocate names from his stunted memory. Maureen? Amanda? Ugh. Moira and Macky? No. Moira and Marni. Right. Sticky fingers. Why doesn’t she wash them, if they’re so sticky? He keeps his gaze on Lonna, as she melts into focus — from three to one. He hears another voice. *Yooooooooooooouu’reeeee Jaaaaaaaaaaammeeeesssss* How do people know his name. Second day in town and already renowned. He shakes his head. A woman with two heads. He mist settles and he notes that it is two women rather.

“Yeah, I am James.” He wonders if the women are interested in speaking to him or just surrounding him because of the amazing amount of alcohol behind him. “Who are all of you. And excuse my question…but why are you in my personal space…” Pause. Stupid. “…not that that is a problem, I love when women are in my personal space…” Pause. Idiot. “…I’m just going to shut up now.”

[Leyna Stidolph] It was just vodka, nothing to get too excited about.. unless it was that stuff from Crescent Moon… or as Leyna liked to call it. Paint Thinner. There was three shot glasses and three drinkers at the table. Leyna didn’t wait for permission, she just assumed as it made the most sense to her. She picked it up the glass and she assumed correctly when he clanked their glasses together.

She downs the drink in one shot and turns the shot glass upside down quickly. “HA!” She snorted out looking at the both of them. “You know what we need? We need a platter.. and a game.” She said with a nod. “Do you know the clapping game?” Leyna was back to her old self now that booze was in her system. She picked up her beer again and took a long drink from it.

[Echo Quinn] The Glass Walker’s eyes are focused on the Strider Kinfolk, then they jump to Lonna.

“Give us a minute and then sure, I’m all over that offer.” It’s instruction, as well as request. Very much a touch of the grown-ups need to discuss serious matters now, dear, run along. Echo Quinn’s attention reverts as James’ drunkenly demands to know why they’re all up in his shit, yo. “Because,” she begins with the patience of a mother explaining a concept to her child — who may or may not be dense in this scenario. “I was told you hit down, and since there aren’t any of your hairy cousins around at present to show you the ropes, my services have been requested.”

She watches his glassy eyes. “Are any of the Echo’s you’re seeing making sense to you right now?”

[James] ((I don’t think I’m refreshing…gah)))

[Echo Quinn] [christ, look at me typo. down = town.]

[Hanna Aldulfr] -She felt the glasses clink together and she downed it in one guzzle. Setting the glass down she looked at Leyna for a moment the sweet sting ruffled the back of her throat as she pursed her lips together and let her brow furrow in a small confusion that spread across her features-

“The Clapping Game? Is that like the one where you do the ping pong ball and the cups of beer?”

-She felt alien trying to explain the only drinking game she had heard of. She couldn’t even really remember the name only the schematics of the whole thing. Lifting her beer she took a drink, sipping it really and then setting it back down wondering where this had come from, however it was very nice to see the old Leyna burst into flames like a phoenix rising from the ashes-

“Sure, if you explain how it goes I’ll give it a shot, no promises I’ll be any good at it!”

[Lonna Larson] They’re discussing importnat matters. Grown ups were talking.

Right.

She nodded a litle, and the blonde took a step away from the Glass Walker and off to go bother Moira and Marni

[Moira Murray] Three large pints of beer later, and Moira is feeling rather warm and fuzzy. She blinks a little, quiet and contemplative, not much of a conversation companion for Marni at the moment. She looks up at the Gnawer, and then towards Lonna as the blond begins to come over and grins.

By now a server has come to cart away the empty glasses and plates of food, gesturing to anyone who wanted another round. Moira holds up her hand and nods.

“Lonna, eeeee!” – giggling, Moira pulls herself up from her chair and trots over to greet the Coggie have way and throws her arms around the taller woman, hugging her. “How are you?”

[James] He grins, and ignores the question for a minute. He turns to the bartender. He thinks for a second and then speaks. “I need something to clear my head. How about a shot of Jack.” The bartender shakes his head but pours the shot. He realizes he has enough money on the bar to cover the women around him. “…and whatever they would like…” He refocuses on the women as he hears the liquor being poured and the clank of the small glass. “I only see one of you. Do I really look that drunk? Don’t answer that…I am new around here. I just moved into my apartment yesterday. Pretty nice place up in Cabrin…” Pause. “…but enough about me. Why do I need showing around? I never have turned down beautiful women asking to show me *things*…”he smiles.”…but it seems odd. Is this some kind of a joke and I’m the punch line. Because frankly, my dear, I could get used to this.” He smirks to himself. He watches Lonna go…but boy to watch her leave. “Wait, we’re discussing adult matters? Can she come?” He feels a touch on his shoulder and without hesitation grips the hand that is touching him and spins around twisting it around and behind the *assailant’s* back. He realizes it’s only the bar tender giving him his shot and he lets go. He steps away slowly from the bar. One step. Two steps. Hands in front of him. “Sorry…Sorry…” the words slip carefully from his mouth. “Keep it.” He walks to an empty table and sits down at it. He isn’t thinking about Echo or Lonna, but about almost killing the bartender. If they wish to talk they will follow. When assaulted from behind always disarm the combatant and then use deadly force if necessary. He places his head in his hands for a second. Then he looks up, seeming to be a little more sober than before.

[Adrian] “You’re thinking of beer pong, Hanna,” Adrian says with quiet distaste – bad memories, perhaps. But the rest gets a smile, and a young man gladly obliging. Company is good when one’s been alone for too long, even if it’s company one wouldn’t necessarily seek out when left to one’s own devices. “But I don’t know the clapping game either. I would think it’s like that electronic game – Simon? Where you try to repeat patterns as you go through shots?”

[Marni] She laughs as she watches Moira greet Lonna, and lifts a hand and waves at the blond. “Hiya.”

Then James is whirling someone around by their wrist, and she tenses, leaning forward, suddenly intent, and ready to jump either into the fray, or out of the way. It defuses as quickly as it escalates though, and she settles back into her seat and takes a drink of her coke.

[Leyna Stidolph] She snaps her fingers at Adrian, “Give the man a medal!” She said roaring with contagious laughter. “I do not play beer pong, last time we did that some poor fucking Gnawer about choked to death on the ball.” She shook her head and laughed again. “It was so damn funny! I tell you! It flung out of his mouth and hit the some poor fucker between the eyes, the expression on his face… Priceless!” She slapped her knee and reeled her head back with laughter.

She took a deep calming breath and shook her head. “Ok.. so yes.. Simon Says.. but here are the rules. If you are the winner for 3 games, you get to make a new rule.. and everyone has to do that rule which you have applied or else they have to drink. Doesn’t matter how ridiculous the rule is, you do it or drink. We go in a clock work rotation.. the leader or the one who goes first.. must start the clapping rhythm.. Stomping your feet does count and so does snapping your fingers, but you cannot use words in the rhythm.”

She snaps her fingers at the waitress doing her best to get her attention, ordering an entire bottle of Appleton Estate, before turning her attention to Adrian and Hanna again. “Think you can handle it?”

[Lonna Larson] She squeeks when Moira throws her arms around her, but embraces the woman anyway. The blonde laughs some, in quiet triumph because… well… it’s the first time Moira’s beaten her to drunk in a long, long time. Moira’s feeling warm and fuzzy, life seems to be pretty good.

“Moira, and her darling friend, you are shitfaced.”

[Hanna Aldulfr] -Hanna listened to Leynas words about the Gnawer and then head Adrian as well knew what Beer Pong was. How come she couldn’t remember the stupid name, oh well. Still listening to Leyna’s words on remembering the game or figuring out the game she nodded her head some and shrugged her shoulders with a small smile to her features-

“Why not, I’m always ready for a challenge its in my blood!”

-She cracked her knuckles for a moment and offered a small smile as she looked to Adrian-

“You’ll play too right? I mean no reason not too..”

[Adrian] “Of course I will. I’m not driving anywhere. You will have to allow me to pay for some of that, though.” The bottle’s indicated, and he fidgets with cigarettes and matches. “Bloody Americans. How do they drink without smoking? It’s too bloody cold out to stand in the wet and snow.”

Regardless, he’s ready when they are, and in for the game.

[Moira Murray] It is the first time anyone will see Moira in such a taste. The kin is normally so prim and composed that she doesn’t allow for such dalliances. Imogen had asked her earlier if she was going to get pissed, and then explained that it meant drunk.

Lonna tells her that she is shitfaced, and Moira promptly denies it. “I am not. I’m just really, really happy to see you,” and squeezing her again, Moira’s head finds perch on Lonna’s chest using it as a pillow. “You’re very warm…. and soft.”

[Moira Murray] “Oh!” She extends a hand out to Marni. “Lonna, Marni. Marni Lonna.”

[Marni] She raises her hand. “As her darling friend – I dispute the notion that I’m drunk!” Grinned, as she chuckles. “I’ve had half a beer, and a bunch a coke. That’s all. Now, Moira, of course, has quite outdrunk me. I suspect it’s in her genes. ”

A beat, as Moira cuddles in. “And yer cleavage, apparently.” Moira introduces her and she holds out a hand – that’s sorta but not really clean. “Marni Geller. Pleasure.”

[Moira Murray] (taste = state)

[Lonna Larson] “Well, Miss Geller, I’d daresay that there’s roo in my cleavage for all, but it seems that Moira’s taken up residence there,” she said. The blonde offered her hand as best she could, but she had a Fenrir in her boobs so it was difficult.

She took a second and adjusted her, not quite ready to move her just yet.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

[Moira Murray] Moira huffs softly, shaking her head as she laughs a little. She straightens up, uncoiling herself from Lonna. “She really does have fabulous cleavage. Men flock from miles just see it. Something to envy.”

[Marni] Marni looks down at her own cleavage, makes a face, and then back to Lonna and hers. “So I see. If I didn’t have such a fantastically perfect pair of my own, I might be jealous.” There’s that grin again, as she shakes her head.

“I was just telling Moira it was looking like I’d have to walk her home – she’s feeling kinda… fuzzy…”

[Leyna Stidolph] She eyed over at Adrian, “Bah!” She said waving a hand slightly. “Your money is no good!” She said in good humor. “I am all about sharing, not like I have bills to pay!” Leyna was well off on her own and well taken care of despite her malnutrition-like state.

When the bottle came, Leyna forked over the cash for it.. it as the least she could do for the good company. She hasn’t had a good amount of fun since the boat ride over to the states. She took all three of their empty shot glasses and filled them with the bright amber liquid. “Now this is Jamaican sipping rum.” She explained to them. “It’s incredibly smooth…” Once each glass was filled she placed them back in front of them. “I got hooked on this shit when I was traveling on the Dervish.” Oh the stories she had, but those would be for another time.

“Who wants to start?” She grinned from ear to ear..

[Lonna Larson] “Our cleavage should combine forces, we could rule the world with an iron fist, and soft, pillowy bosoms.”

She pauses and takes a moment to call back.

“Jimmy! Hey, come over here!”

Nay as wel.

[Hanna Aldulfr] -Hanna took a moment swallowing a breath as she tried to fish her small wad of bills from her pocket for her part of the bottle. But when she turned down Adrians offer for assistance on the bottles cost, she knew all too well that she would most definitely turn down her own. Taking in a breath Hanna drew in a large deep breath and finally nodded some-

“Sure I guess I’ll start us off.. so I guess I just come up with any old pattern?”

-She clapped her hands together twice, then snapped her fingers then clapped her hands together again twice and figured that would be a good easy start for people-

[Adrian] And so Adrian repeats the pattern

clap, clap, snap, clap, clap

and downs his shot. “That’s hardly even a challenge, you know. Though I suppose it will get more difficult as the alcohol to blood ratio changes.”

[James] He hears his voice a bit more calm and collected that he was. He shakes his head, these knee jerk reactions need to stop. Yet, they seem to be some sort of flashbacks to his past life. Orange jump suits, city camouflage. Desert sand and metal bars. The mist of the alcohol falls over him slightly again. The words seem distant. Yet not as distant as before, no one seems to resemble a Salvador Dali painting. No melting clocks, no amorphous bodies. He gets up out of his seat calmly and walks over to Lonna, Moira, and Marni. He is making friends quickly it seems, or rather speaking to people. It seems impossible to hide himself if he keeps trying to kill everyone he meets. He stops at the table and smiles inebriated. As he sees the three women, it’s as if he didn’t just dislocate the bar tenders arm. He looks at them all and places his hands in his jean pockets.
“Hey” He says it sheepishly.

[Leyna Stidolph] She snorts out a laugh at Adrian. “You drink when you fail.. otherwise there would be no challenge..” She said to him with a wink, passing the bottle over towards him and then looks at Hanna, repeating the pattern almost down to the millisecond. Clapping her hands twice, then snapping her fingers before clapping her hands twice again.

“Everyone beat your rhythm Banana.” She gave a cheeky grin. “Drink.” She looks back over at Adrian. “Your turn.”

[Moira Murray] Moira was feeling fuzzy, and happy. She shakes her head at Marni’s offer. “I’ll be fine. I can make it home. I’ll just call a cab to somewhere.”

She make a face, pulling back away from Lonna as she brings a hand up to touch her forehead. Moira lets out a sigh, stepping back over to the table to pull up her coat and begins to pull it on.

[Marni] She chuckles as James joins them, and she nods. “think it’s time for you to get home too.” She gestures, and stands, grabbing her coat and slipping it on, her pack as well, before she points toward the door.

“Cabs for everyone.” a beat. “Lonna, can you help Moira if she needs it? Thanks – and ya’ll have a good night. I’ll see to this’un. Common James….”

And she hooks arms with him, wonders where the heck Echo disappeared too, and escorts him home. He can come back and get his truck in the morning.