A dead man and witches walk into a bar

===> COH <===> 12/13/2019, 10:09:22 AM <===
Styx and Stones - Pool Hall

	Decades of hard use leave their mark on the Styx and Stones pool hall. Regulars come to rack up around a legion of battered pool and billiards tables, veterans of a war against the digital age. Heavy bolts lock the scratched wooden tables to the poured cement floor, and cheap metal racks are hammered into the sheetrock as a precaution. Cigarette smoke has yellowed the ceiling and leaves an oily residue on all the fixtures despite there being not an ash tray in sight. Peeling posters advertising cheap Mexican and Ukrainian beers faded out long ago, their logos an arcane assortment that defies easy recognition.
	Clusters of new, metal bar stools belly up to high-top tables from the Soviet era. Thick shellac protects the washed out photographs, ticket stubs, and other memorabilia from 70s and 80s-era Eastern European rallies and concerts. A new, metal bar has been installed that's been bolted to the floor to prevent it from being ripped from its foundation. Generally they still serve the same vile drinks by the can or the bottle, nothing more than two bucks, and no tabs tolerated. Low rock music plays from blown-out speakers on a continuous track regardless of day or not, melting into the droning hum of overhead fans cursed to stir up the greyish-blue miasma of cigarette smoke filling the air.
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READ ME FIRST

	*** Nightzone ***

Obvious Exits:
  Back Room <BR>   Out <O>

             <<Risk 2: This bar is actively hostile to non-bikers>>

The building's interior is a broken shambles of what was once a bar. Cobwebs hang like long, grey curtains of lace and dust in the corners with the pool tables broken and overturned. The posters once filled the walls have faded, crumbled and fallen to the floor like old leaves at the end of autumn.

It's well into the evening at the Styx and the crowd is pretty normally packed. The regulars are scattered around the room either having somewhat secret meetings, playing some pool or both. A few random bikers have claimed one or both of the back tables - a space generally reserved for them so that they're out of the way but still close to the drinks and to the food.
You paged Wesley with 'It's well into the evening at the Styx and the crowd is pretty normally packed. The regulars are scattered around the room either having somewhat secret meetings, playing some pool or both. A few random bikers have claimed one or both of the back tables - a space generally reserved for them so that they're out of the way but still close to the drinks and to the food.

The hall's crew stay busy by hauling buckets of ice and boxes of beer up from the back getting the bar stocked for the night's business. Seated behind the counter, at the far end so as not to be mistaken as a bartender, a white-haired man sits upon a stool that puts him a head or two taller than the seated patrons. Like a lifeguard looking out over the crowd, he keeps an eye on the comings and goings of the patrons and, more importantly, the many bikers in the back (tm).

	Wes was /former/ lawman. He worked vice before being moved to major crimes, and as such? he has his share of CIs, mostly among the biker crowd. He's scratch their back, they'd scratch his. But he'd been outta town a while, so. He needed to re-juice his contacts. Maybe? Make some new ones!

Behind the bar, a white-haired man sits in a tall chair watching over the crowd. Waitresses move in and around the various gatherings of tables here and there delivering beer and food. Other staff, marked by their t-shirt dubbing them simply as "Fresh Meat", clears away the empties and trash. Easing himself off of his lifeguard chair, the white-haired man slowly wanders over to an old coffee maker tucked away on the rear table and gets himself a quick refill. While pouring the black water into an old, stained mug, he turns towards the door as someone enters.

	Wes squints as he takes a look around, giving the air a perfunctory sniff. He'd like to smoke, but. California laws. A furrowing of his brow, and then the man makes his way further inside, in the direction of the bar.

Dawson, the white-haired man behind the bar, takes a second and even a third look at the unfamiliar face as though he were trying to place his features in a rolodex of figures, both light and dark, found on the street. Eventually he's able to put the man in his place and his expression changes from curiosity to one of surprise. "Whoa...thought you were dead," he comments and takes a sip of the bitter brew.
You sit down at the Bar.

	Wes settles in at the bar. He'll look at the bottles behind it, contemplating his life choices for the day, but then words draw his attention,and he looks over towards the white haired man speaking them. A shrug and a nod, "Yeah, you know how it goes. Ain't found a way to kill me yet, seems every path leads me to nowhere." A faint smirk before he ponies up some cash and orders a double or whatever rotgut rail whiskey is available.

Danny, a latino man next to Dawson, takes the investigator's cash and pours him a hefty shot of the amber-brown fire and slides it in front of him with a polite smile. White-hair takes a sip of his bitter black mix and decides that it's just too burnt for human consumption so he pours out the contents of his mug into the trash and turns to start a new batch to brew.

"I -think- I heard that you were back out there but also heard that one of them crazy fuckers got ya," he begins talking with a half-turn to his shoulder so that he can mostly keep himself faced into the conversation. "You back on the job or just lookin for a hole to crawl into?" Dawson asks when he turns the coffee maker on and turns back around to face the bar.

	Wes gives the bartender a nod of thanks, then knocks back the shot. "Keep'em comin'," he mutters before turning attention back to Dawson. "'m done with all that noise, man. These days, I work freelance, just enough so's I can have my beer and whiskey money."

With a glance, Dawson tells Danny to stop charging the freelancer for his drinks and lets the man enjoy his evening a bit. "Oh yeah?" the boss asks as the coffee maker hisses and splutters behind him. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee starts to fill the space around the bar as the two continue to talk. The drums of war start to sound as the combined olfactory armies of beer and cigarette smoke amass from the bikers in the back.

"You heard anything going on out there I should know about bro?" Dawson asks, leaning forward a bit onto the bar so that he can keep his voice relatively low for a not-so-public conversation.

	Wes shakes his head. "Haven't been back and around long enough. Other'n the usual stupid stuff down near the border. Turf squabbles 'n such." A pause as Wes considers the man between shots of whiskey, "You lookin' for anything in particular?"

"Yeah...any kind of warning before hell comes beating down my door - ya know?" Dawson explains and takes one of the cleaner bar rags to wipe out the dozen-or-so layers of coffee stains from the outside of his old mug. It's an absent habit, something he can do without thinking while still in the conversation. "One of the crews up and disappeared on me a few weeks ago and no one's seen anything about them since." The gang in question, as anyone with a connection to the pulse of the street would know, headed south towards Tijuana to handle some kind of territory breach. "Like...people went to their place and the doors were wide open and NO one was inside." He lets out a brief puff of air as though he'd rather not think about what could have happened. "Kinda creepy."

	Wes arches an eyebrow, then kicks back another shot. The line of his jaw tightens. Don't do it, he thinks to himself. Just let it lie, he says. But somethings die hard, no matter how hard you try to kill them. A sigh as he wipes at his mouth with the back of a hand. "I can do that, sure." A pause, and his brow furrows. "You want that looked into?" He couldn't help himself, really. The whiskey wasn't the addiction, it just made the real action easier to get into. For Wes? The action WAS the juice.

Dawson hrms a bit, considering the idea of getting some 'real' answers as to what happened to the missing crew. "What you charging? I can keep ya in beer, bourbon and burritos as much as you want." He smiles a bit and can't help but appreciate the irony of their potential business relationship, "can't say as I've ever been on -this- end of an investigation."

	"That's the best deal I've had tossed my in a while," he mutters, by way of signaling his agreement. "I'll need a few basic bits of information to get started, but afterwards, I can take it from there."

You see a guy in his mid twenties with a slim, athletic build, white hair, blue eyes, and more than a few tattoos covering his body. The man looks like he's been through quite a lot - his body showing the occasional scar here and there but it's the hardness of his eyes that tells you more. Maybe he's a vet that's been through combat or maybe he's a felon and been through worse. He's got that steely-eyed look that's difficult to fake but who would want to.

Standing a few inches over six feet tall, but with a slender build he's wearing a pair of black, leather riding pants -the kind that motorcycle riders sometimes favor, a black muscle shirt and a black, denim vest. Oddly enough the only real color about him are the red tattoos on his shoulders and upper arms and some splatterings of paint or dye along the legs of his pants.

There's something about him that catches your attention. Maybe it's his white hair, maybe it's the way his eyes seem to shine slightly silvery in the moonlight. Some people might consider his disquieting presence compelling or disturbing.

Evonnia comes in from the street.
Xiu comes in from the street.
Ciar comes in from the street.

	Wes is at the bar, chatting with Dawson. The former has already knocked back three shots of whiskey, if the empty glasses in front of him are any indication. And they are!

Dawson explains that the gang is/was known as the Vipers - yes, he can barely keep from rolling his eyes at their name - and that they weren't really anything serious of a crew. "They maybe had a dozen bros riding messed up rides with some weird snake emoji for colors. Can't say if they were into anything big but when someone 'violated their territory' they got all mongolian warlord and charged out to make their bones." He just shakes his head at their stupidity and turns to start filling his newly cleaned mug with some fresh coffee. "I think they had a roost outside of town - down by the border to Tijuana but it's the -way- they vanished that's freaking some folks out. The night they rode out all full of beer and balls...they never came back. Anyone in their roost just up and vanished too."

Caressa comes in from the street.

Through the door there steps a certain someone who may not, at first, be noticed... In the company of two others, she slips into the Styx and makes her way to the bar without a single sign of her presence liable to be detected. But then, in the next moment...

"Aye, Daws, ye' got any a' tha' feckin' mead left? Or is th' season in need a' new flavors?"

Well. SHE is damn visible now, at least. She pauses, blinking idly as she tilts her head at the tail end of the conversation.

"Soun's like trouble in paradise, aye?"

Bobbi comes in from the street.

	Along with Ciar, two more ladies waltz into the place. One of them is certainly more..conventionally dressed than the other. Xiu, dressed in dirty cargo pants, her dark hoodie and grey jacket, hood drawn up and her long masses of braids just spilling out its front. She lets out a soft grunt and peeks around the Styx, just watching some of the bikers for a moment before she follows Ciar to the bar.
	A smirk moves the asian's face as she hears Ciar's casual greeting of Dawson, and she reaches up to lift the top of her hoodie a bit with a thumb. "'lo there." she says - though does not intend to interrupt the greeting more for now.

Evonnia wanders into the bar alongside Xiu and Ciar, her own presence initially quite difficult to notice. She heads to the bar as well, not seeming to care if she interrupts. Today she's dressed in a ragged winter coat, certainly a few years past its prime. At least it's modern clothing, concealing the ones less so underneath.

	"Hello, friend," she speaks in her East European accent as she hops up onto a seat at the bar, offering a grin towards him. She glances at the man he's conversing with, offering him a nod. "And to you as well."

Caressa steps into the bar again. Do the proverbial record scratch like last time. Very possibly. She still doesn't dress like she belongs here. She moves towards the bar, seeming slightly more at ease than her first visit to the place.

	Wes would shrug up into himself and vanish, if he could, when the bar gets a little more crowded with Dawson's "pals". Still, he does his best to quash his aversion to people, taking solace in calling for another shot of rail whiskey to ease his antisocial tendencies.

	A dreadlocked figured hobbles in using a cane. The security guard takes a step forward, but then the figure raises their left hand, revealing a sigil tattooed on the palm. Oh, hey! It's Bobbi. The security guard's demeanor quickly changes, and he begins to chat with Bobbi. Laughter can be heard as Bobbi and the security guard catch-up and trade stories.

With the arrival of so many women into the bar, Dawson's eyes are drawn up and to the door as not one but...well a bunch of familiar faces come walking up to him. Hearing the request for the last of his autumn mead, he reaches down below the bar to pull out one last bottle for those gathered; even the skinny scarecrow guy. The bottle is a typical homebrew creation capped with an unadorned, silvery cap that he pops off before handing them out. The home-printed label is one of those 'Hi, my name is' things with the words "Fall 2019" written in sharpie marker across them in mostly neat handwriting.

For those who taste the brew, however, it's like the smoothest honey wine this side of the Old Country. Filled with the flavors of apple and cinnamon, the mixture has a bit of a slow kick to it. Like you'll think it's just apple cider for the first drink or two and then the floor moved on ya; swear to gawd. The batch is hay rides and apple piking, campfires and warm sweaters, starlit nights and crisp, foggy mornings - in a bottle.

Yup, Dawson is -that- kind of wizard.

When the mead is provided, it's with a greedy sort of urgency that Ciar brings the bottle to her lips. She doesn't drain it, naturally... Just a wee bit half-empty, as you do. When's he's through? She sets the bottle back down upon the countertop with a harsh sigh. As she turns her electric blue eyes over the steadily growing assembly of mismatched misfits, her stare rests quite plainly upon one individual in particular.

Caressa.

She blinks. Tilting her head in mild confusion. If she has anything to say however, she doesn't say it. Instead? She leans closer to Evonnia and utters something quietly. But, unfortunately, not so quietly that her secrecy can be maintained.

"Feckin' saxons..."

Right.

	Wes winces visibly at the scent of the honey wine once its uncorked. He'd lost his family in the autumn, but there was no way Dawson could have known that. Wife and kid, taken from him, just like that. Some sicko in an apple orchard. The wife and kid were just the latest in a whole mess of folks who'd gone missing. Butchered. Literally, into meat. The notions of hayrides and apple picking? Their weight suddenly comes crashing down on Wes like a ton of bricks. "WHISKEY," he mutters, before just grabbing for the bottle.
Ciar sits down at the Bar.

	Xiu continues to quietly look around for a moment, just observing people, taking note of Wes there and the strangely shut down conversation. Then however, finally, she settles against the bar, staying standing, and actually joinsCiar's order with a short "I'd like some of that mead, too."
	Curiosity is in her voice, and open eagerness. She does notice Bobbi at the entrance until she hears that laughter and peers over - a smile growing on her face for a moment before it fades into a more neutral expression again.

Caressa has things on her mind as she choose the stool next to Wesley. But not so much is on her mind that she misses the cursing down the way. Her silver-violet gaze turns back to Dawson. "That smells lovely, do you have anything similar?" Her gaze then shifts back down to Ciar, "Excuse me?"

	After chatting for a few minutes, Bobbi pats the security guard on the shoulder and hobbles towards the bar. Taking a seat at the end of the bar, she drums her fingers as she looks over the selection, implying that she might order something different. But, no. It's always the same order. "Beer and a shot," she says, and by now they know that that means well whiskey and Coors Light. One of those bars where that's actually a reasonable order. After a moment her post-work daze lets up and she notices just who it is she's ordering from today. A smile creeps across her face, "Oh, hey Dawson." Then she looks to Xiu and her friends, "Decided to become regulars here, too?"

Evonnia offers an appreciative nod of her head to Dawson at the offered bottle of booze, but she doesn't seem to immediately accept. Wearing a calm grin she says towards him, "Thank you, but it's a bit too late in the year, perhaps?" She sides it over towards Xiu. What a strange idea... Not drinking as it gets so cold out? Did she mean something else?

"Unless you have any made without plants."

	She glances over at Caressa briefly, and then at Ciar once the red-haired woman is pointed out. She shrugs her shoulders at the mutterance. "Are you really surprised that there would be any here?"

Ciar blinks... Now that she's closer? There's certain aspects of her that stick out just a little bit more. She doesn't seem to shirk away from the 'excuse me' question... In fact? Her head tilts. Her cheek soon rests upon her palm as she swishes about the contents of her mead bottle.

"Ne'ermin' lass. Musta been mistaken." Her eyes, for a moment, flick downwards... Looking at an aspect of Caressa's appearance that evidently sticks out to her. Her gaze ligers for some time indeed... Before she looks back up to her eye level, and concludes.

"Tha' necklace a' yers. A pretty wee thing, aye? Owned it fer' long have ye'?"

Dawson edges the available bottles in front of people and turns to look at Wes with a look of confused curiosity. The beast-behind-the-eyes starts to stir in its cage and he claps Danny on the shoulder and points to the investigator to 'give the man what he wa...needs'. Of all of the many reactions to his brewing ability, that one definitely is a first. Curiosity, as some might call the creature that resides within his mind, has definitely been awakened.

"This is what I got for the last of autumn," Dawson explains to folks. "The Winter-berry is done, bottled and ready for the Solstice. One person said it reminded them of some kind of champaigne but I ain't never had it so I have no idea. But...I know that it's a little bubbly. "

	Wes white-knuckles the bottle of whiskey and looks over towards Dawson. "You sure are popular," he mutters. He's like Ted Danson in Cheers!

	"Regular?" Xiu says and lightly grins. "Nah, not me. Third time 'm here or so." she says. "Gotta watch th' crazies." She winks towards Bobbi, before she eagerly takes her bottle and sniffs at it - before she takes a sip and licks her lips. "Nice to be seein' you around again!" she chirps towards bobbi, before she peers over at Caressa and lifts her bottle. "'lo there to you, too! Din' know you hang out."

Caressa wraps a hand around the bottle sat in front of her. "Thanks." She takes a swig of it, savors the flavor before savoring it. "I don't suppose I could buy some of your brews to keep at home?" Her silver-violet gaze shifts back to Ciar with a tilts of her head, "Long enough. Why does it interest you?" Her free hand fondles the pendant briefly, thankful that she's able to keep it looking new.

	Shrugs slightly in response to Xiu. "Well, that's three more times than I expected to see you here ... though I guess I only saw you two of those times. I've been super busy. Lots of rush orders to get done for the holidays, and if I screw any of those up I won't be able to show my face in here ever again. Also, a new bar opened up next to me, so that's been stealing some of my attention." She looks to Dawson and grins, "It's true, I've been cheating on you. The place is literally below my loft though, so can you really blame me?"

	Sweat had gathered on Wes's brow, highlighting the furrow there. Too much whiskey? Was he running a fever? He looked wan, unhealthy. A drink taken from the bottle to calm his nerves and then he does his best to recover, pulling out a handkerchief from a pocket to dab at the sweat. Who the heck carries a a handkerchief in 2019?! Apparently, Wes does.

<WRAITH> Unintelligible, though threatening sounding whispering can be heard by the bar.

Evonnia finally takes visible note of Bobbi. She side-glances her for a few moments, her nose twinging briefly before looking over at her and grinning. "Ah, hello there. It has been a bit of time, hmm? I see you're doing well?" She looks over the strange hippy, before Wes' diminishing state catches her attention. The Slavic woman glances over at him, staring for a moment as she chuckles. "Had a bit too much to drink? Perhaps you should be more careful... It's a dangerous place to fall ill in."

"Aye. I'd consider m'self regular. Been comin' here fer' months now, aye?" Ciar poses the question to, well... Nobody in particular. But soon after she furthers, speaking directly to Caressa.

"I find 't interestin'ly sim'lar tae' my own, is all." As she points it out? She tips her head down for but a moment to indicate the actual raven's skull attached to the cord around her neck. A pair of black feathers are tied to the cord as well, likely from the very same bird.

"Unless 'tis jus' fer' looks tha' you wear a silver raven where mos' would wear a crucifix a' some sort, dressed now as ye' are."

	Bobbi smiles as her beer and shot come to her. She excitedly raises a finger to indicate 'one moment' just before they are placed in front of her. Grabbing the salt shaker, she quickly shakes once than twice, putting salt on the napkin coasters. Then she smiles and gives a nod as the drinks are finally set down. Quickly she downs the shot of well whiskey, and then takes a sip of the Coors Light as a chaser.

	Something catches Wes's attention. His hawk like, piercing gaze goes over in the direction of whatever sound he heard that, by and large, others likely wouldn't have heard. A hand reaches for something, where he might have had a shoulder holster for a pistol or revolver. But. There's nothing there. Hackles raised, Wes scans the immediate vicinity for spectral happenings before looking to Evonnia and waving off the concern, "'m fine." He isn't, really, but he'll never be fine in any way that matters.

"Can't buy what I give away Doc," Dawson explains. "If ya like it and I got enough I'll give ya a few. It's nothing really like...commercial, just a hobby." As if in echo to what Dawson rattles off, Danny - of all people - claps in a comment, "...for now." It seems as though Dawson might become...if one can believe it, a micro-brewer? Yeah...world's gonna end soon.

With so many gathered around the bar, the white-haired owner helps the latino bartender fill the orders though the autumn mead only had a few bottles left and they were scattered around the counter for people to grab and try as they wish. "You want something to put on your stomach bro?" Dawson asks of Wes in a quick, almost friendly tone.

	Xiu takes another sip of her bottle, and finally reaches up and pulls back her hood, letting that mass of braids of hers spill more freely, completed with a soft exhale leaving the girl. "This is tasy." she remarks, glancing towards Dawson for a moment, before she is about to take another sip...and eyes..well. Wes. The asian silently tilts her head to the side a bit as she watches the clearly nervous - or at least not well - man. The handkerchief makes her blink, and she finally takes another sip before departing from her spot at the bar, moving around people before heading for poor Wes. "Oi. 'sup? 's everything alright with you?"

Bobbi turns slightly in her stool towards Dawson, "You ever figure out any vegan snacks? Or do you not want to be /too/ welcoming to me?" She laughs and takes a pull off her Coors Light.

Caressa chuckles softly and nods to Dawson, "Well, then at least let me help fund your next batch. Especially if I can get a case of it." She fishes around in her purse and pulls out a card which she slides over to Wesley, "If you ever wish for a professional opinion." It is a business card for her psychiatry clinic. Her attention then shifts to Ciar, "hmm.. it is both a religious symbol and holds great meaning for me." She then turns back to her bottle and spends a heartbeat or two chugging it.

	Wes gives Dawson a small, but appreciative nod. "Yeah. Please." Then he looks to Xiu when she approaches. "Yeah, things're chill. Just thought I heard something is all." A pause as he tries hard to remember a thing called "manners". "Thanks," he offers to Xiu earnestly. It had been a long time since anyone had asked, but that was mostly because he kept to himself. Aaaaaaaand then the shrink hands him a card. A look of skepticism colors his features, but he takes the card and tucks it away. For now.

Evonnia smirks at Wes's dismissive response, shrugging at him in return. "If you say so... Just don't fall down in here," she warns, continuing to looking him over for several seconds, before her attention shifts towards Ciar and Caressa's conversation, idly tapping her fingers on the counter as she watches curiously.

	A biker slowly saunters to the bar and stops near Bobbi, where he lets out a grunt. Bobbi slowly turns towards the biker and looks up. They stare each other down for a moment. Finally, Bobbi breaks a smile and says "Tuesday." The biker grunts and nods and then walks off to join the rest of his gang. Turning back to the bar once more, Bobbi takes another pull off her beer.

<WRAITH> Shadowy hands wrap around Bobbi's throat, and a voice begins to mutter, "... bitch ... bitch ... bitch ..."

"Religious symbol, aye? 'Tis wha' I had thought." Ciar brings her own bottle to her lips now... Draining it til it's just a quarter full. Another whimsical, distant sigh leaves her lips as it's set back down upon the bar, and her eyes draw closed. Though one, for a moment, cracks open and shifts to an apparently un-occupied corner of the room. Her tongue clicks, and she finally furthers with Caressa.

"An' do tell me what religion tha' be, aye? Sate me curiosity a'fore it grows too strong." Ciar blinks.

Staring in Bobbi's direction, humming somewhat contentedly.

"New necklace, Bobbi?~"

"We got french fries...covered in cheese..." Dawson smiles and adds as a stage-whisper to Wes, "...and bacon. Burgers too if you're hungry enough." He goes on to explain that his cook, Tommy, was voted the best behind the grill in D-block for three years running. "The man can make anything taste good..." he turns to Bobbi and sort of gives her a weird look, "...but I don't think he does vegan..."

	Xiu lightly nods, her expression a bit hard to read as she watches Wes. There is a light smile, all in all, but the girl seems rather more stuck in resting-bitch-face for the most part. Less so towards Wes as she is talking to him, and more in general. "'s all good, 's all good I guess. Happens." she simply drops her verdict about his behavior, and takes another swig of her bottle before she lick her lips - though then something gets her attention.
	She looks over between Ciar and Caressa, eyes narrowing juuust a bit there. As she moves more next to Wes, she keeps her eyes there. "Y' seem like one of us. Strange regular not quite fittin' in.." she remarks to Wes, despite having earlier said that it's just her third time here - she might be referring to certain other people around though. "How come a business guy ends up 'n here?"

Caressa doesn't seems affected by the mead, which she slows to sipping the last half of it. "Norse pagan." She replies to Ciar. "hmm, being that yours is a skull..I would guess you are more shamanic than new age pagan. Yes?"

	Bobbi shivers slightly and then rubs her upper arms before turning to Ciar. She gives her a strange look for a moment, and then says, "Oh!" She reaches into her overalls and pulls out a homemade looking necklace with a crystal attached to the end of it. "How did you know?" After pausing a moment, she twists her dreads around each other, leaving them in a hybrid bun-ponytail. She scratches the back of her neck. For some reason all the hairs are standing up. Then she turns to Dawson and smiles, "I don't expect it to ever happen, but a girl can dream can't she? If someday it does happen, I'll have two nearby food spots, and you'll have all my tip money." She laughs and takes a pull off the Coors Light. "You could also lie to me. McDonalds used to have the best fries back when they lied. Then the hindus had to ruin everything for everyone, but I suppose I shouldn't blame them."

	Wes's eyes narrow again, his aquiline gaze distinctly leveled towards Bobbi before slowly looking around the woman. "'s not a smart idea for spooks to pester Quick 'round here," he mutters to himself. Clearly, the burn-out drunk is a little "touched". A nod to Dawson, "Whatever's hot 's good with me man. I appreciate it." Xiu gets a look. "Just thirsty, I guess."

Bobbi looks down the bar at all the familiar faces, "Speaking of tip money, who wants to do a shot?"

Evonnia brushes her braids back behind her shoulder as she turns her head to look towards Bobbi, raising a curious eyebrow as she hears Dawson's description of the food they serve here. Her eyes bounce back and forth between the pair as her head gradually tilts. "...What is vegan?" she asks in mild confusion, apparently aimed primarily towards Dawson. Her attention snaps back towards Caressa and Ciar as the latter recieves her answer, raising an eyebrow. "You're saying your Varangian?" she questions, taking in Caressa's appearance.

"Norse?" Ciar questions, quirking a brow in surprise. "So 't mus' be representin' Huginn an' Muninn, aye? 'Tis no other tha' 't could be. An' mine... Aye. 'Tis traditionalism, rather than th' shit I hear a' wiccans performin'." She holds the necklce up by its cord, dangling it there for a moment before continuing thereafter.

"Th' Morrigu. If'n ye' know, than ye' know. Been me religion e'er since me youth." She lets the necklace fall. Still regarding Caressa somewhat incredulously, but directing a small smirk towards Bobbi.

"How'd I know? Well, I jes' got th' need t' feel my han's around it's all. Bu' I do know better than mos' tae' keep me hands t' meself." The woman lets out a gentle laugh as she, finally, finishes off the bottle of mead before looking back to Caressa on Evonnia's response.

"Aye. Varangian. Thas' th' word."

	"Gotcha." Xiu remarks, her eyes on Ciar and Caressa some more - though then she gets distracted by Bobbi's words. "Shots, eh? 'm in for one." she tells the hippie with a light smirk. "'ll take five if I can do 'em off your tattoos though." She cackles and takes another sip of her mead, before she licks her lips and eyes the bottle for a long moment. "Dawson, 's fantastic stuff. Seriously!"

<WRAITH> The ghostly figure screams in Bobbi's left ear, walks around to her other side, and screams in her right ear. It seems to be full of impotent rage for this woman.

"Vegan means that they don't eat meat...like...at all." Dawson explains to Evonnia as though he were trying to convey a very difficult concept. "Typically for personal reasons." He waits to see if his words actually sink in to the conversation or if it goes right over her head. Somethings just don't translate well into her world.

When Xiu compliments him he smiles towards her and helps clear away a few of the empties from the counter as the gathered crowd starts to work their way through his brew. "Got autumn down, winter seems like a success but it's not out yet. Spring...oh...spring's gonna be interesting. All I could think of is flowers but...come on - flowers? Me?"

<WRAITH> Suddenly? The ghostly figure pestering Bobbi? Sees another wraithly being come into view. One that looks like a Barghest. Its makes a threatening growl towards the wraith, maw slavering viciously.

	Bobbi reaches into the top pocket of her overalls and pulls out a wad of dirty cash. She counts out two hundred dollars and puts that on the bar in front of her, before putting the rest of the cash back in her overall top pocket. Sliding the money forward towards Dawson, she raises a finger and spins it, giving the international sign for 'shots for everyone.' She shakes her head at Dawson, "That's vegetarians. Vegans don't eat meat or animal products of any kind. Though french fries smothered in cheese with a side of gravy sounds damn good right now."

Caressa fondles her pendant thoughtfully as she listens to Evonnia and Ciar. "Ah. The old reference to Vikings." She offers a smile and nods, "Yes.. and yes, it is a representation of Huginn and Muninn." Though her smile slowly fades at the disparaging that is given to modern wiccans. "I have no way to relive the past. So we much do with what we have. Does not make our hearts any less dedicated." She shrugs, "The wheel turns, what was old becomes new...and what is new in time becomes old. Such is the way of things." She glances back at the Viking bikers briefly before looking back to Ciar, "Some of the ancient ways remain."

	An iridescent, silvery shimmer sweeps across Wes's eyes, for the briefest of moments.

	(SHADOWLANDS) Suddenly? The ghostly figure pestering Bobbi? See's another wraithly being come into view. One that looks like a Barghest. Its makes a threatening growl towards the wraith, maw slavering viciously.
Bobbi pages: Yeah, I should probably set myself to wraith see, but only use it for stuff related to this. Bobbi is basically being haunted by a powerful Spectre for a PRP I'm running for the Wraith scene. This stuff is just foreshadowing.

	"Oh yes." Xiu pipes up, this time her eyes flicking towards Caressa. "Some ancient ways remain.." she agrees, another light smirk moving her lips before she takes another sip of her bottle and downs the rest of it - damn tasty things. They never last long." Exhaling she sets the bottle down at the bar, and fishes a few coins out of the pouch of her hoodie before placing them next to it. "So, no spring with flowers. Guess you'll be goin' for something herbal?" She pauses before she lifts a hand. "Actually, don't tell. 'm plannin' on bein' here when you pop open th' first bottles." She thumbs over her shoulder towards the entrance. "Th' streets won't let me go that easily."

<WRAITH> The spectre growls and takes off. For a moment before it leaves, Bobbi appears to have a massive head wound dripping blood.

A staffer wearing a 'fresh meat' t-shirt comes out from the kitchen after a quick bit with a plastic basket and places it in front of Wes. The basket is lined with wax paper and filled to overflow with fries loaded with a smothering of nacho cheese and bacon accompanied by two slider burgers on the side. The newbie staffer gasps audibly at the silvery shimmer of Wes' eyes but doesn't know if what he saw or what he -think- he saw and just heads back to the kitchen.

Ciar, here, grimaces. Something said seems not to sit very well with her... She sits up. Slowly. Narrowing her eyes her way as her hands rest plainly in her lap. It's calm... But nonetheless it's clear that it is still calm fury of a sort. "Tradition's tradition fer' a reason. Taintin' it with 'new' is a feckin' insult tae' th' old an' I'm sure any real practitioner'd tell ye' so." She stares in silence for a few moments. Before she concludes with a strange sort of finality.

"Less in common than I firs' assumed. Nice chattin'."

She turns then to the bar, flicking her eyes towards that same unoccupied spot in the room.

"Think I've got a shoot some time ta'day. Dunno... Need tae' go t' th' offices in an hour er' four 'd say." She blinks. Looking at the 'fresh meat' boy.

"I feckin' want what they're havin'. Whas' that shite then?"

Evonnia blinks slowly in growing confusion at Dawson's answer, her head tilting slightly as her lips part. "At all? You don't mean completely right? Even deer eat meat sometimes," she replies, before looking at Bobbi as an eyebrow raises further at the clarification. "I understand there are reasons you might do this, I suppose... It's strange there's such a word for it... It couldn't possibly be common... I suppose it explains why your body's frail and crippled." She shrugs her shoulders, not sounding like she... blatantly meant it offensively. She looks to Caressa, staring for a few moments before sighing with a shrug. "Perhaps that's understandable, to an extent. So you've lost the ancient ways?"

	Suddenly? Wes is ALL BUSINESS, whatever drunk he had earned earlier? Vanishes in an instant. His attention remains on Bobbi. The man's broad coat hanger scarecrow shoulders relax a little after the barghest he summoned up does its job and scares off the Spectre that had been pestering Bobbi.

	Bobbi turns to say something to Evonnia, but the arrival of shots grabs her attention. She gestures over to the bikers to come get their shots as well, as she passes down shots to the rest of the bar. Lifting up her shot glass, she says, "To the pagan origins of Christmas. May we all be April Fools." She seems to have no idea what sort of danger she is in.

Caressa frowns at Ciar, her gaze flitting to Evonnia. "I don't believe I have lost the old ways. But this world, is not the same world it was when the ancient ways were practice. It has changed, and like most things, other things have shifted to match it." She blinks and focuses on her palm a moment before rubbing both palms together. Then back to Ciar, "The Lady, the goddess, is The Lady. She changes and yet remains the same. People give her a thousand names, a thousand faces and yet The Lady she will always be." She considers a moment, "But I claim no the Morrigan." She looks at Ciar closely, smirks and leaves several twenty dollar bills on the bar, "Put this towards their tab." She says to Dawson with a subtle motion to the viking bikers as she rises from her stool.

	Wes makes his way over closer to Bobbi, grabbing one of the shots. His drunk from earlier had been good and thoroughly ruined. But so had any impression given that he was ill, frail, or prey. He'll lean in to mutter to Bobbi, "What kinda mess you fall into with the cenobite crowd, anyway?"

As Wes' eyes track to the spectral beast summoned to deal with the errant spectre, Dawson's attention follows the manifestation of the creature and to what it was directed with a quick sweep of his eyes. Sure - it could have been a few bikers in the back that caught his attention or maybe something else, but the beast-behind-the-eyes starts to thrash and roam about its mental cage forcing the bar owner to give Wes another, more carefully appraising look. It's all just a subtle turn of the eyes with him, a narrowing of his gaze and a faint turning up of the corners of his mouth.

And then the inspector starts throwing words around like 'cenobite' and he wonders where that little puzzle box went. The only thing that breaks his attention is Caressa telling him to put the drinks on the vikings tab. "Ya know...if ya want - there's always the private club if ya'll want to keep your party going without all of the bikers lookin at you like you're their next project."

Bobbi downs her shot and then looks to Wes, "What?" She seems to have no clue.

Manolito comes in from the street.

	Xiu's attention equally gets drawn to the shots, and she slinks around the present people at the bar to move next to Bobbi. "Cheers!" she lets out and down the hatch it goes, before she exhales and taps the bartop with the little shotglass. "Ohh, stingin'.."

Evonnia glances at Bobbi and blinks, clicking her tongue as she looks at her inscrutably for a few moments. But whatever all's running through her mind, the response that comes out rests on a more benign part. "...It's nowhere near April. Wait... Is that a joke?" Her brows furrow further as she attempts to divine the answer to that question. However, Caressa's answer abruptly redraws her full attention. She stares for several moments, not overly betraying her thoughts on the matter through her expression, before shrugging slightly. "Well, that certainly answers many of my questions. I don't think I have any further." She 'hmms', before looking away, not seeming terribly impressed.

Caressa turns and makes her way to the door, unaffected by the mead she's consumed.

	Manolito orders drinks for the table of friends that came in with him. He pays cash to the tender and looks around to those present at the bar in curiosity.

	Wes's eyes narrow at Bobbi's ignorance, as he converses with her quietly. "Some fuckin' cenobite's making with all the graby-growly around your neck and you dunno who it is you pissed off enough for'em to come at you from across the shroud?"
You booted your frozen connections.

Bobbi raises an eyebrow at Wesley, "I don't know a lot of the words you're saying, how am I supposed to explain them?"

Caressa heads back out to the street.

	Wes hands Bobbi a simple business card. "Time comes you're ready to get that nasty bit o' problem dealt with? Give a holler."

Evonnia leans over onto the bar on her elbows as she watches Ciar explode on Caressa, neither seeming surprised nor inclined to hold her back. She stares at Caressa as she replies to it for several moments, before her blue eyes flick back to Ciar, anticipating her reaction. "It's not worth the effort, sister... Let her go. She'll believe the things she does and do things the way she does not matter what... We've seen enough: She's not our kind." There's a clear, cold bitterness in her words.

	Her eyes flicker back to Bobbi, staring for a few seconds. "I suppose you wouldn't joke. That's just how you people are, isn't it?" It's at least... less bitter than her immediately prior tone. It's just a lighthearted insult!

Taking Bobbi's glance as a clue that he needs to sort of stand up and be toasting something, the white-haired owner raises his shot and gets everyone's attention with a brief, but sort of introductory explanation as to what he's going to be talking about.

"Ya know we're all here on this world for a very brief moment; a flickering spark of life we are. We're born, grow bright through our years and eventually we fade to nothing but heat and smoke..." His voice is pitched in that 'I know how to speak to a crowd and how to wind them up a bit' way. Maybe he's done crowds before? Maybe he's just theater-curious?

"But there is one thing that we can all agree upon in this cold and bitter world. When it comes to our time..." He builds the moment a bit and raises his glass a bit higher as if adding to the climax.

"What do we say to the God of Death?" - yes, he's totally pulling a Game of Thrones reference but half the people in the bar probably watched the last season -in- the bar itself. Damn shame what they did to that poor tv; it was even flat screen.

As if in answer to his question, the vikings, the staff, and anyone else who knows the question raises their shot and bellows out in a clear chorus of defiance. "NOT TODAY!" Cheers follow and Dawson demonstrates he can wing it...with style.
You paged Bobbi with 'plain off white card. Wesley Cohle, Investigative Consultant. Orpheus Group. A phone number and URL.'

	Xiu tilts her head towards Bobbi at something that is being murmured, and she hrrrms, narrowing her eyes just slightly as they flick towards the hippie. Then her eyes find Ciar and Evonnia - well, mostly the former, because man, Ciar is supercharged here. "Oioi, Ciar..." she remarks preemptively in a slightly more stern tone. "Booze. Shots."
	Just in time Dawson brings up his toast! And Xiu is there with her shot already downed. Hah. She instead just watches them all and mimics the motion.

	Bobbi takes Wes's business card and looks it over before pocketting it. "What problem? Are you just, like, really bad at flirting?" She then look to Evonnia, "You people?" Then glancing to Xiu, "That's a phrase you might want to teach them more about." She raises her shot glass as Dawson toasts, and then downs the shot.

Ciar, for her part... Seems to take Evonnia and Xiu's placations to heart as she simply slams back her shot glass, tapping it twice upon the bar for another. She says nothing. And clearly, it's definitely a good idea to load this angry scary looking celt up with booze right now.

	Mano takes the drinks and heads over to his group with them. Passing them around, some words are said and they all settle in. A little rowdy and crude. Obviously not caring about anything but the moment tonight.

	Wes looks to Dawson and offers a wave, "I gotta get some air, man. See you 'round. Send me those details and I'll look into the missing persons."

	And with that? Wes turns and heads on out, leaving the evening's stranger things behind him.
===> Log ended by user <===> 12/13/2019, 12:56:17 PM <===