[Amunet Trujillo] (Scene in a random trashy bar okay with you guys? Or is that not something that Izzy would be in?)
[Izzy Montoya] (*L* she lives in random trashy bars. :) )
[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Trashy bar is ALWAYS good for Sarita. :D]]
[Amunet Trujillo] (Woo!)
“Get your fucking hand OFF of my ass, or you’re going to lose it!” The dark haired Kin shouts the threat to be heard over the music, and it’s accompanied by the ‘Please, PLEASE fuck with me’ expression that Sarita has come to know well.
[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She grins widely, stabbing through a french fry with a toothpick as Amy bitches some poor sap out. “You’re way too nice, you know? Giving warning an’ all that shit. Most people our kind, they just take the hand as a fuckin’ trophy.” The duster is back on today, though her top and pants are the same ones from last night; the tank top white with “Destination: Grassy Knoll” printed on it where the ‘o’ is a set of crosshairs.
[Izzy Montoya] One of the less savory parts of investigation involves trying to get answers out of folks that do not want to get involved. It’s not their business, their place; they worry that to say anything makes them suspect, they fear the law, they fear she’ll see more than they want her too, they worry that she’ll shut them down, figure out that they’re skimming the till, scamming the patrons, dealing drugs out the back door, beating their girlfriend. It’s not easy, is the point, and most think it’s not fun.
Izzy lives for this shit.
Someone, someone yells at another person to remove their hand or lose it, and Izzy is leaned against the bar, leaning toward the current tender – who hates the Sunday afternoon shift more than life itself. Loud music beating on Saturday hangovers and people still trying to put their hands where they don’t belong, and the tips are shit, as they already gave it all away in the wee hours of the morning. There’s a photo on the counter in front of him, and she points to it.
“Focus. When?” Her attention is on him, seemingly on him alone. But she misses very little of what’s going on around her just the same.
[Amunet Trujillo] There’s another yell a few seconds later. This one comes from the man, when his fingers are suddenly yanked back and snapped. Oops.
[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She snorts in amusement, reaching out with a long leg and shoving the guy, now cradling his fingers in pain, back. “Shoulda taken the warning, dick cheese. Run along and be happy you still got fingers left period.”
[Amunet Trujillo] He considers doing something about it, but then just slinks away cradling his broken fingers in his other hand. Amy looks pleased with herself, slapping another ten on the bar and signaling for two more shots. “Hey! Sugar! We’re dying down here. Flirt and pour at the same time.”
Either she’s unaware that he’s being questioned by a cop, or just doesn’t care.
[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “You know,” she says conversationally, lighting up a cigarette. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you stuck said ass out a little, just to invite people to get a hold. Some would call that entrapment.”
[Izzy Montoya] The tender looks down, and mumbles something. Izzy nods, and with barely a glance down the way at the ruckus, until they summon the guy she’s talking too. Izzy doesn’t bother looking, just holds up her badge. “You’ll continue to die until I’m finished, or I’ll have to look into assault charges.”
Everything about Izzy screams cop, from the way she stands to the way she talks, even to the way she dresses – business casual, slacks, tailored blouse, subdued and functional. Not to mention the bulge at the small of her back under the leather jacket.
For Sarita, it also screams something else: Fenrir. The blood that flows through her is ripe with history of warriors and heroes that show no mercy and kick copious amounts of ass.
To the tender again, she asks another question, this time while picking up the photo and tucking it back into the inside pocket of her jacket. He speaks, she nods, then tosses a couple of bills on the table. “Whiskey. Neat. Keep the change.”
Well paid for his information, he serves her, first.
[Amunet Trujillo] “Some can go fuck themselves” She grins at Sarita, then loks to the bartender again. “Who do I have to fuck to get a drink?”
[Izzy Montoya] She picks up her drink, and salutes Amunet with it. “Me, apparently.” Then, with a smirk, she lifts her glass to her lips, taking a healthy swallow or two.
[Amunet Trujillo] “Well then haul it over here!” She laughs, waving the ten at the bartender.
[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She looks down the bar at Izzy, brow furrowing as she tries to place her from somewhere. She’s seen her once or twice before, she’s sure of it…she’s just not sure WHERE. There was a fair amount that went on last night after all, and her focus wasn’t on Izzy. her head does tilt to the side though, and she smiles, nodding to the Fenrir.
“You know…you’d think I would be able to remember a face. I used to be good at that…”
[Izzy Montoya] “In your dreams.”
She settles to the seat where she’s at, pulls out her phone, scrolling through the messages there with the practiced ease of someone firmly connected to her job via mobile devise. If she’s aware that she’s being studied, it doesn’t seem to bother her. Or she’s choosing to ignore it. For now.
[Amunet Trujillo] “I thought you didn’t go for skinny bitches, sis.” She nudges Sarita as the woman studies the Fenrir kin.
[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “I don’t go for bitches period, remember? Straight and narrow here. Now behave, you.” It’s good-natured, not a serious order and more of a tease. Sarita doesn’t order her sister around, at least when frivolity comes into play. They’re perfectly capable of being equally frivolous, and Sarita would never deny Amy that. “I know her from somewhere. And she’s extended fam.”
[Amunet Trujillo] “Oh.” She twists around to study the other Kin.
[Izzy Montoya] “Hey!” Fortunately it’s the tender she’s signaling again. “Gimme a phone book, and when you deliver those – tell them to take a fuckin’ picture, will ya? Lasts longer.”
He smirks, slaps the phone book down in front of her, before heading down to the sisters to serve them and pass on the message they could hear perfectly well themselves.
[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She chuckles when the message is relayed, taking her shot and moving down the bar a little so she’s within closer-than-shouting distance to Izzy. “Problem is, I prefer moving pictures. And since a video camera won’t film itself…well, I might as well be here without the easily stolen and pawned-item.”
[Amunet Trujillo] “You can set them up to film by themselves, though. Remember that guy in Phoenix with the…” She lets it trail off, moving along with Sarita and nodding at Izzy. “Hey.”
[Izzy Montoya] She hears the part about stolen and pawned items, and comments dryly.
“Missed the fuckin’ badge, did ya?” It’s said with a smirk, though she doesn’t look up from the phone book she’s thumbing through.
[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Hey, I wouldn’t be the stealer and pawner in this case. I’d be the victim.” She takes a lean on the bar next to Izzy at this point. “So maybe I got a crime to report.” There’s a definite humor in her tone. She’s kidding. Probably. Or she finds it hilarious that she’s been stolen from.
[Amunet Trujillo] “Should report those fucking pants she’s wearing to the fucking Fashion Police.” She takes her shot, slamming the empty glass back down on the bar.
[Izzy Montoya] “Call 911. I’m Homicide.”
Helpful bitch, ain’t she? She finds the number she’s looking for, and keys it into her phone and hits save before she closes the phone book and slides it back across the bar.
[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She actually looks like she’s considering pretending to report a homicide, but even Sarita’s not quite that crazy. “Sounds like a fun job.”
[Izzy Montoya] She arches a brow, slightly, and turns to study Sarita for a long moment.
“Really.” It’s said dryly, without hint of humor. Her dark eyes show none, either, though she has the look of one who’s well used to keeping her thoughts to herself, without letting them be read through her gaze. “How so?”
[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Oh, you know. Plenty of mysteries and puzzles to suss out. Bad guys to catch. Get to carry a gun and not be arrested for it.” She grins. “I imagine the fam’s proud of you, ay?”
[Izzy Montoya] “You watch too much TV.” As for the family, she smirks. “Doubtful, at best.”
[Amunet Trujillo] “Why not? You’re useful, in a good position. All the shit your type is supposed to be, right?”
[Izzy Montoya] She arches a brow, slightly. “And what, exactly, is ‘my type’? A well trained dog is also useful, and presumably in a good position at least once in a while.” A beat. “Are you calling me a well-trained bitch?”
[Amunet Trujillo] “I’m calling you relation. Kin, you might say. Whether or not you’re a well trained bitch isn’t any of my business.” She signals for drinks again, with a twenty this time. “Her too.”
[Izzy Montoya] Something tightens in her brow, around the corner of her mouth, before it clears away.
“You may call me Detective Montoya.” Not kin, the insinuation. It serves as much as an introduction as she’s going to give at the moment, as well.
[Casey Steward] Arguements, chatting, music and the general din of the bar mingles ever so briefly with the sound of the door opening. Fresh off the boat, or maybe the plane, or hell maybe the back of a pickup truck is the best way to describe the tall 6’2 fella who steps through the door. He looks fresh from the road, from somewhere not here, his leather jacket faded and dusty, his jeans faded and patchy.
He steps to the bar with a slow even pace and tosses the duffle in against the foot banister as he slides up onto a stool. “Dear god give me a beer.” He says to the bartender, his voice is tired, strained and very very thirsty.
[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Hey, if it helps any, I call this one a poorly-trained bitch.” She nods her head to Amy with a smirk. “And I’m just a bitch, period.”
[Amunet Trujillo] “We can pretty much call you whatever the fuck we decide to call you, Sugartits. That’s how this works.”
[Izzy Montoya] “Not at all how it works. Nice try though.”
She stands, and slips her phone into her pocket, and turns to head toward the door.
[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She pauses, looking over her shoulder to Casey, and then back to Amy with a raised brow at her half-sister’s comment. “Hay que ser agradable…”
[Casey Steward] His eyes linger on the bartender only long enough for the beer to reach his hand, and then sight is forsaken for a long, thirsty chug of alcohol, its barely even relished, barely tasted, the man just needed to get the thing in his system and then he’d take the time to feel the ground under his feet.
The drink set down, now nearly half empty the blue eyes beneath his short blonde hair takes a moment to survey his surroundings, his eyes falling first and foremost on the three woman down the bar who were chatting, bickering, or maybe getting ready to brawl.
He listens to Sarita speak as well, and for a moment it seems like he might very well understand her, but if he does, he gives no further sign of it as he picks up that beer and takes another drink.
[Amunet Trujillo] “Estoy siempre es agradable.” Her eyes follow Casey as he picks the beer up and drinks.
[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Dar órdenes no es ser amable.” She moves to follow after Izzy. “Detective. Hold up.”
[Amunet Trujillo] “Ella empezó.” She doesn’t move from her spot, attention divided between Sarita and Casey now..
[Izzy Montoya] She smirks, slightly, as they resort to another language to her back. She shakes her head, and mutters to herself as she dials the phone and lifts it to her ear.
Only to be told to wait. She lifts her free hand to press her thumb and forefinger on either side of the bridge of her nose, and to whomever has answered the phone. “Montoya. Hang on.”
Then she turns, the phone against her should. She arches a brow, slightly.
[Casey Steward] Casey watches with mild amusement as Izzy heads for the door. His tired eyes ever so briefly meeting the anger in her’s before a small tired chuckle issues from his lips. He takes a moment then, a long moment to wipe his mouth with the back of his sleeve before looking back down the bar to the other two and shakes his head.
When Sarita tries to stop her…its an honest moment of surprise for the man and hooded eyes open slightly wider before he looks at Sarita. “You know its usually not wise to play with the rattlesnake once it’s started to rattle.” He says in an unconcerned voice, a slight smirk registering on his lips.
[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Forgive my sister. She sometimes forgets her manners. Or what manners are. And sometimes, how to eat with utensils.” She smiles a bit. “Wasn’t trying to chuck any weight around or anything like that, okay? No harm, no foul. Cool?”
[Izzy Montoya] “I don’t believe in forgiveness, nor will I forget it. I, however, have no intention of alerting the Jarl that you cannot keep your kin in line. It is not my place, nor do I give a fuck. I simply have better things to do with my time than shoot every foul mouthed little bitch who forgets she has manners.”
A beat. And a smirk. “Besides – it’d be a waste of bullets. She has the look of one that won’t learn shit anyway.”
[Casey Steward] Casey turns, and with a sigh leans back against the bar and crosses his legs watching the moment unfold….sure as hell wasn’t his place to interfere.
[Amunet Trujillo] More of her attention turns to Casey now, as Sarita explains to yet another person that Amy can’t behave in public, blah blah blah.
[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Her expresions takes on a heightened look of amusement. “In all honestly, I don’t give a rat’s hot patootie, bless my soul, et cetera who you were planning on informing. I was talking to you as a person, since I figured you deserved the respect of that. This was me playing nice and trying to treat you like a person, and you kinda throwin’ it back in my face. No offense, but that’s kind of a shitty thing to do, y’know?”
[Casey Steward] The man’s head cants slowly and almost lazily to the side as he looks from Sarita, to Izzy and then finally in a long lazy swoop over towards Amunet that small smirk still upon his lips, not going anywhere, much like the man who owned it.
“Should I be moving further away?” He asks Amunet, a hand casually gesturing towards the pair before him. “I like front row seats, but I don’t like being labeled as collateral.”
[Izzy Montoya] It’s kind of a shitty thing to do. She actually chuckles. “Welcome to Chicago.”
And she lifts her phone to her ear, again and turns on her heel to start her way to the door again. “Finn – meet me at Roys. I don’t give a shit, 30 minutes, Roys.”
She turns off the phone and slips it into her pocket again.
[Amunet Trujillo] “I doubt either of them can fight for shit, so it’ll probably just be a lot of hair pulling and name calling.” She slides closer to him, half watching the discussion again.
[Casey Steward] “You’d have lost that bet.” He says Idly as he folds his hands across his stomach and watches Izzy turn to go. “Unless your friend is going to pull one out from behind.” He cracks his neck to one side and sighs as his gaze slowly travels over to Amunet once more.
“Casey.” His voice oh so casual as one hand comes up from his stomach to offer a shake.
[Amunet Trujillo] “Amy.” She offers her most charming smile and hand to shake, giving his a slight squeeze. “Sarita has a few tricks up her sleeve”
[Casey Steward] His smirk neither rises nor falls as she offers him a charming, and certainly appealing smile. Infact the man almost looks like hes ready for an afternoon siesta if anything. He returns the squeeze, his hands calloused and slightly rough before he rests his hand on his stomach once more.
“No tricks of your own?”
[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] He hand goes up, the bird directed back at Amy without looking that way. Which, really, could probably be interpreted at aimed at Casey if her aim is bad. “Listen, I been to a lot of shithole places, Detective. And I’ve learned that it’s not the shithole that deserves the blame for being shitty. It’s those who makes it that way.” She shrugs. “You wanna take a single comment and never let it go, you feel free. But after this, we’ll both know that I tired to make it right, and it was you who decided to make a problem.”
[Amunet Trujillo] “Oh, I’ve got a few.” She looks him over once more before turning her attention back to Sarita.
[Izzy Montoya] She waves over her shoulder as Sarita talks. “This is me walking away, which by definition ends the problem. Otherwise I’d have already shot her.” And with that, she slips out the door.
She might be joking.
Doubtful, but possible.
[Casey Steward] The finger, quite possibly aimed at Casey simply gets a brief lazy wave and an ever so slight chuckle as the man reaches around behind himself slowly to grab his beer. “Mmmm beer and a show.”
[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She shakes her head and turns, coming back. “If she tries to shoot you Am, I don’t give a shit if she’s a cop or not. Shoot her ass back.”
[Casey Steward] Another tired laugh issues from the blonde after he licks some beer foam from his lips. “Sounds like a sound strategy, though the smarter strategy is always to shoot first.” It comes off like a moto, or a slogan, or it might have if the man didn’t seem so laid back he might be in a coma.
He then looks casually up at Sarita and cants his head over to the side once more. “You must make friends everywhere you go.”
[Bridget Geroux] [May I join?]
to Amunet Trujillo, Casey Steward, Izzy Montoya, Sarita Ecos de la Risa
[Amunet Trujillo] “She’s a charmer, that’s for sure.”
[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[I’m cool wit it!]]
to Amunet Trujillo, Bridget Geroux, Casey Steward, Izzy Montoya
[Casey Steward] “Oh the height of charm, I can just see the charm school training in her.” He says with a casual wave of his hand, gesturing in her direction that smirk never fading. His gaze slipping over to Amunet to give a barely noticeable wink.
[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She chuckles and shrugs. “Oh, I totally make friends. I made at least three of them last night.” She pauses. “Friends are people who threaten and-slash-or yell at you, right? I always get confused about that…”
[Amunet Trujillo] She laughs, head back for a minute, sliding just a touch closer to Casey in the process.
[Bridget Geroux] Heavens only know how Bridget gets around Chicago like she does with a low income and no car, but good goddamn, she does. This particular shitty bar happens to only be a few blocks from Legends, and their Very late night fiasco last night nearly turned into a full-scale brawl on several occasions. Maybe Sarita threw her a text a while ago and she’s only now getting here. Who knows?
Bridget enters this random shitty bar with a pair of highly reflective shades reminiscent of Jackie-O. She hasn’t changed since last night, but she has showered. The Fianna kin stumbles over the doorstep into the bar, wearing the same navy tee, black vest, dark-wash jeans, kitten heels, and studded leather jacket as the night before. An overstuffed canvas bag hangs from one shoulder. It looks heavy. The Canadian makes her way to the bar and immediately orders up the least shitty bottled lager they have available.
She spots Sarita and waves.
[Casey Steward] “Oh most certainly, the very best of friends are the one’s who use guns, so you and that lady are just bosom buddies.” He shakes his head, ever smirking as he picks up his beer and holds it up.
“To your new found friendship.” The sarcasm roiling of his tongue, even as he seems to be filled with good cheer, despite the sleepy nature of the man.