Scenario Entitled: Cool Bar RP - It HappensCharacters:
Alejandra, pre-magic tart, pissed off.
Jeremy, military Head of Medicals, good at pissing people off.
Maxim, minding his own business... sort of.
Carey, (NPC) no-nonsense lady bartender.
Location: The Fallen Angel, seedy west-side bar, boasting some fabtastic synthols.
Date: Ninevus, 106 P.A.
Alejandra pushes inside with the very faintest of frowns on her lips, though it disappears as she heads for the bar. Mmmm, alcohol, enough to cheer anyone up.
Maxim lounges in fair ease and comfort at a side booth, arms up and resting over the sides, and legs sprawled out underneath the table, as he inclines his head backwards and watches the fading sky through a part in the curtains of the smokey window along the wall.
Alejandra reaches the bar and peers over at Carey curiously; the 'lady' is busy?
Carey is tying on a new apron, the old one in a stained wad of reddish cloth on the edge of the counter. The atmosphere of the bar is unusually quiet, patrons keeping one dim eye on the bar as they go about their business. The lady bartender looks up and catches the girl's eye, speaking up: "Yeah, whatcha want, Senorita?"
Alejandra considers for a long moment, face screwing up in thought. Finally she suggests, "Somethin' new?" Forearms rest on the bartop so she can lean while she speaks to Carey. "Whatever, just not that monk stuff."
Jeremy meanders in quietly...a thin smile on equally thin lips. His head is down...he's sporting what's known amongst most veterans of the CS Conflict for Tolkeen as 'The Thousand Yard Stare'. His jaw sets some, teeth locking a bit as he makes his way in.
Maxim lounges carelessly in a side booth on the opposite side of the room, arms up and resting over the backrest, legs sprawled out underneath the table, and eyes fixed on the part in the dark, heavy curtains, revealing a smokey window through which the fading daylight filters.
Carey examines Alejandra for a moment, then nods to herself and sweeps the soiled apron off the barcounter and into a container, by the sounds, behind the bar. "Alright, something new. Some Spectral Mist," she adds, reaching high for a tall bottle of green liquid.
Alejandra asks curiously, "Does't come'n diff'rent strengths too?" She watches the pouring of the drink with unabashed interest.
Jeremy moves along quietly, studying the bar with a faint smirk, before he meanders slowly towards it. His free hand comes up, pushing some hair back up from his face.
Carey shakes her head slowly. "Not really possible, or it'll upset the balances." She uncaps the bottle and reveals a cheesecloth-type covering over the mouth. She then tips and pours, the deep green liquid catching highlights off the dim lighting as it cascades into the glass. It rather looks like mouthwash, the colour starting to mellow almost immediately to a lighter green, like lime. "Don't linger over it, or it'll evaporate before your eyes," Carey warns with a smirk.
Alejandra flashes her a grin in return to the smirk, "Yes ma'am." She then reaches for the glass. A deep breath is taken (oooh, look at that jumpsuit swell) before she takes a gulp.
Jeremy makes his way over to a seat there at the bar, carefully easing up onto a barstool, a decent distance from Carey and Alejandra. He eyes the two from where he is, despite the pool of saliva his elbow rests in, left over from the drooling thing-er-ma-bob to the left of him.
Spectral Mist: The effect is almost like a certain drug, barely coursing liquid and clean down your throat before the heightened temperatures transform it to a light, cool gas that seems to radiate out through your passages, rushing through your veins, cleaning you out almost, and sending a slow bloom of fuzzy warmth and giddiness up your spine and into your brainstem. The room seems a little brighter, and the occupants a bit more 'real' before you, interesting physical details about them popping up into your notice.
Alejandra leans against the counter for support, a delighted burble of laughter slipping free. "Senora," this to Carey, "I didn't know yer hair's /brown/." She sounds on-top-of-the-world, and all together pleased with her new drink. Which she quickly brings up for another gulp.
Jeremy runs a hand along his chin smoothly...examining the both carefully...before he shrugs, stands, and quietly strides over, wing-tips clicking and clacking. Some thug with a clicking arm gives him a half-hearted salute...perhaps somehow confused that he's here. The man trundles on.
Carey looks up from her work to regard Alejandra with guarded amusement. "Yeah, very dark brown. You have good eyesight," she adds, seeming to humor the girl.
Alejandra flashes the woman a bright smile at the compliment, then brings a hand up to pull one of her own curls in front of her eyes. It's given wideyed study for a few moments before she lets it fall again. Click-clack, click-clack... she turns to face the source of that nearly familiar walk, and informs Jeremy with all the seriousness she can muster, "I don't like you right now. Go 'way." How unfortunate that she giggled right in the middle of saying so.
Jeremy keeps his head hung down some, but it seems to loll off to the side some. A flashy-toothed grin spreads slowly across his face as he notes, "You like everyone...come on. I'll buy a drink, oh girl of mine..." He looks up to Carey, arching an eyebrow with a well practiced mannerism. He then states softly, "Good...ah...evening? Regardless, get another of whatever it is she's drinking. Hell, make it two."
Carey looks for a moment at Jeremy, dark brown eyes flat. "Of course." And she goes through the uncapping and pouring process again. "I advise you take it one at a time.. this drink's best when it's at its freshest." Her accent is slightly british, whish is strange, considering her apparent heritage.
Alejandra pulls away from the bar, "I don'wanna drink with you, Jer'my." She takes a last gulp from her cup and sets the empty down with the care of someone who knows they're not in their right mind. "I'd stick you 'cept I left my knife't home." Cheerful bloodthirstiness there.
Jeremy looks up at Carey with a pleased smile, his head inclining to her slowly. "Mmmm," he notes, voice a little more british than usual, "Right...'s ok, I'll deal with it. Take it slow, perhaps?" He then turns his smile on Alejandra, "Oh, tut-tut. None of that, now. Play nice."
Maxim reaches over to close the curtain above his table completely, lowering head and turning a bit to regard the interaction out of the peripherals of his gaze.
Alejandra frowns, some of her drink-induced haze fading. "Go 'way." That command given, she turns to stalk towards an empty table on not quite steady legs, radiating prickly pride and hurt.
Jeremy sighs as he watches her stumble off or what not, his gaze slowly slipping back towards Carey. He offers her a faint smile, then leans in some, quietly asking, "Something I should know about?"
Alejandra settles into a booth. Arms cross and prop up her head on the tabletop while she stares daggers at Jeremy across the room. Isn't he lucky she doesn't have her knife after all.
Carey turns again to look at Jeremy, lifting her shoulders in a shrug after sliding the glass over to him. "Maybe it's your amazing charm at work, Doctor," she replies cryptically, and moves off to see to some newcomers at the bar.
Jeremy watches her go...then snorts. He knows sarcasm when he knows it. A slim finger is extending...then gently presses to the side of his glass. Slide. Slide. Slide. Freefall. Smash. The glass whirls in slow motion over the side of the bar, exploding in little shards of glass and droplets of liquid. A horrible mess, really. And Jeremy is up and over, pushing off the bar to stride over towards Alejandra.
Alejandra unleans from her table when it becomes apparant that he's coming over. "Go th'fuck '/way/, Jer'my." She pulls out of the booth, temper flaring up in her eyes.
A puff of gas wafts up from behind the counter, as the drink expends itself with the explosion of glass. Carey turns her head to sight Jeremy's progress across the bar, and she nonchalantly looks over at Maxim, who smiles slightly and waves to her. With a shrug, the woman goes back to her duties, grabbing a broom and clearing away the debris when she comes to it.
Jeremy just focuses, making his way smoothly to Alejandra with the grace of a panther, and the style of Mephistopheles himself. It's really just the goatee. "Nonsense. How can we settle this, if we don't chat? Talk it out, love? Talk it out."
Alejandra spits at his feet. Remarkable aim too; it lands right between them. "Fuck off. Don't call me yer 'love', or 'dear', or any crap like that." Her accent gets thicker with anger. "There ain't nothin' t'settle nomore, y'made sure've that one."
Jeremy looks down at his feet...then back up at Alejandra.. eyebrows up some. Oh, dear, Hawthorne. You sure riled up the bitch but good this time. "Well, you see...here's the thing. Yes there is. You're not quite understanding. We have something, you and I. It's rather nice. Why let it rot, just because I had an awful day?" He continues closer, hand slipping up into his trenchcoat's sleeve.
Alejandra snaps out, "We don't got nothin' Jer'my. Y'wanna know why? 'Cuz yer a /coward/." She doesn't care that she's in a public place. Where better to argue? "A yellowbellied asshole who can't drag up th'strength t'admit even t'yer/self/ that we..." Her mouth slams shut on that. "Just git th'fuck 'way from me. Go chase after Rooke just like you wanned, 'cuz I ain't gonna follow you like some lovesick puppydog no more."
Jeremy's lip curls at the corner some, some kind of twisted smile. "You, ah...you don't get it." He adjusts his arm lightly, a little self conscious. His face twitches some, as he continues on, "I'll tell everyone," he states firmly, "But only if you stop this. Why bother with Rooke? Why? She's like you, but more of a bitch. And without those precious curls. I see no profit in chasing her," he lies, his voice softening some...in case Rooke can hear him. He wouldn't be surprised if she could.
Hmmmm, interest. Interest like there's never been before. Maxim draws his legs and himself into proper seating and laces his fingers together before him on the tabletop, while his gaze settles on the two verbal combatants. His eyelids drop a bit over cold blue irises, simply watching and recording the information.
Alejandra plants her hands on her hips. "So /say/'t." She's all high fury now. "'Cuz yer a fuckin' lier too. Prove y'ain't. Say't."
Jeremy shrugs helplessly, maintaining some kind of eerie, intense calm. His eyes bore in on her, continually scraping over her form. Finally, his jaw sets. His lips open and enunciate -- "We've done some inappropriate things on several occasions. 'Fucked', if one must. I'm human. I have failings. I'm allowed."
The reception of all this information ranges from amused entertainment to serious annoyance, among the patrons tonight. The volume rises as if to compensate for the dialogue.
Alejandra sneers, "Thanks 'lot, Jer'my." Why doesn't it seem that was the right thing to say? "So'ts a failing t'sleep with me. It's a mistake that you'd take back'f y'could." Well, if you put it that way, it probably .wasn't. the right thing to say. "It was in'propriate." Her voice is a mocking echo of his.
Jeremy normally would laugh, or scream, or kill. Now, he just keeps calm, grin growing some as he gets closer. "No -- the sex was good. Your body is nice...smooth and soft and warm all over. All broken in for me already, unlike /hers/. I like you. Your mind is nice, too. You're pretty smooth in general. Just was a failing to do it, and keep it quiet. Sex for money, for example, isn't very good. Sort of morally corrupt on my end -- not that I fault you."
Alejandra snorts, anger still a vibrant presence in her voice. "What 'bout alla yer peers?" Again, it's a mocking echo. "Alla yer fam'ly, who just wouldn't unnerstand?"
Jeremy purses his lips some...setting them in a slim, thin line. "No. My family is in Lazlo, far from here. My mother would approve, my father would deal. My peers are, in essence, all below me. I love them like a second family, and so...they'll learn to deal as well."
Alejandra whirls around on her heel to reclaim her table. A seat across from her own is shoved with a booted foot; invitation for him to sit, maybe.
Jeremy offers another smile that's more of a sneer, arm twitching loosely once more as he eases down into his chair, gazing at her clear-eyed.
Alejandra's hand lifts from the table top and swings at the good doctors within-range face. Not just to smack, ohno, that'd be no fun at all. She's got nails at the ready to score flesh.
Jeremy eases back from the smack...smooth as a skipping stone at first, then smooth as granite. He hits the chair, backs off a bit...then stands steadily after a bit of stumbling. "Close, dahling. Yet, no tobacco-related product." He eases into a cocky grin, a flash in the eyes.
Alejandra brings her hand back down, "I'll just have t'wait 'til yer not lookin'." Now why did that sound like a promise?
Jeremy brings his left hand up, gesturing to his eyes smoothly. "I'm always looking, Alejandra. Always."
Alejandra rolls her eyes, "Whatever. I coulda stuck you th'other night 'fore you knew I was there."
Jeremy chortles softly and amends, "But after I was looking, I could have torn you to shreds at any time...it's really nothing to be concerned about."
Has Maxim gone off into his own little (size is figurative) world again? Apparently so, because he only now draws back from watching the two, and sits with a pondering expression on his face, examining his gloved hands before him. After another minute, he rises from his seat and walks off towards the door marked 'Private'.
Alejandra scowls, "I don't wanna talk 'bout't no more."
Jeremy offers a hand to Alejandra, once more. "Shall we sit, then? You know, once more?"
Maxim pulls a ring of keys from his slacks pocket and selects a large archaic iron key from the bunch, inserting into the keyhole and giving a firm twist. He's rewarded by an audible *clack* of the inner latches, and lets himself into the back room, shutting the door as soon as he's in.
Alejandra is already sitting. She glares at the hand, "Yer th'one standin' up."
Jeremy smiles pleasantly, "But I will put the I in we." The hand stays where it is. Teeth remain bared.
Carey wipes down the bar, head turned to the side slightly to watch Maxim go. She turns her gaze to regard Jeremy thoughtfully for a second, then leans across to murmur to a patron at the bar. His broad shoulders all but obliterate the sight of her as he shifts to listen.
Alejandra rolls her eyes and pushes up on still unsteady legs. "Y'owe me a dinner." Her voice is accusing.
Jeremy replies cockily, "I'll eat it off your stomach if you want -- we gonna get out of here?" Later on, when he's regretting that sucking chest wound, he'll either regret the comment, or not tipping the wait-staff.
Carey leans back again, and folds her arms over her chest, surveying the tavern, while the lumbersome man she spoke to, gets up from his seat and moves to the door.
Alejandra shakes her head, "I wanna 'nother Mist thingy." She's being stubborn for stubbornness sake now.
Jeremy ponders that for a moment...then nods once, dropping his hand to his side. "Fair enough. Stay there?" He meanders over towards the bar, his lips spread in an absent sort of sneer-smile. Back to punk, he is. On his way over, he fetches a silver ring and gold stud from his pocket. Careful hands snap them back in. Could you, would you, in a bar? Could you, would you, wherever you are?
He makes his way to the bar, significantly much more punked out. He begins working on getting out his tie, as he leans up onto it. "Hey! Bar-lady...over here, what say?"
Carey looks at Jeremy.. she's been looking at him since he departed the lovely Alejandra to make his way over. "Payment in advance, pussbag," she informs him and explains further, "Security for your apparent clumsiness with glassware."
Jeremy offers a sort of a grin, "Sorry 'bout that." He slips the credstick from inside his trenchcoat, and slides it over to her. "Give me two -- charge me for four. Sound like a good deal? Keep some for yourself. I give you free reign, hey?"
Alejandra calls out, "Senora, one've'ms fer me... make his th'nasty shit, 'kay?" Someone's not fully over their anger yet.
Carey takes the credstick with no more pause on her side, back to her professional mein. She brings forth the bottle and pours quickly through the filter cloth into two glass tumblers. "Do not let it turn clear before you drink it," she cautions Jeremy with a smirk. "Or the evaporation effect will be lost, and the remains will sit /hard/." Meanwhile, the wide-shouldered man steps out the door, closing it behind him.
The liquid is, of course, an intense green that lightens with every second in the glass.
Jeremy watches the glasses with a curious gaze, tucking his credstick back into his trenchcoat. Hands then reach out to the glasses, picking them up with a hint of a smile. "Wow...wild. What the hell is /in/ here? No, wait. I'll be back in a few. Then you can explain to me, hah? Doctor Jeremy Hawthorne the Third -- but Doc Jeremy is fine. Or Doc. Or whatever the fuck you wanna call me, eh, missy?" He chortles, and turns to quickly bring the drinks back to Alejandra.
Alejandra just rolls her eyes. "Hurry up," he's commanded.
Carey watches Jeremy's back coldly for a moment, before moving on to other things.
Jeremy slips off to the table, Alejandra's drink offered out to her with an out-thrust arm. "I'm hurrying!" he protests, adding, "Take it, take it." The gold stud is in his right nostril, the silver ring in his eyebrow.
Alejandra plucks it out of his hand and takes a gulp before all the color bleeds away. She settles back with a sigh a moment later, eyes closing.
Alejandra's Mist: The feeling comes right back with reassuring clarity, enveloping you in something of a glow. None of it ever seems to reach your stomach or liver for processing, just spreads out from your chest and into your bloodstream.
Jeremy takes a quick drink of his own, probably nearly choking on the concoction. But he'll drink it, alright. Still...he's not sure he likes to think about what will happen in his stomach. Boy, if it freezes in a glass...
Jeremy's Mist: The effect is almost like a certain drug, barely coursing liquid and clean down your throat before the heightened temperatures transform it to a light, cool gas that seems to radiate out through your passages, rushing through your veins, cleaning you out almost, and sending a slow bloom of fuzzy warmth and giddiness up your spine and into your brainstem. None of it ever seems to reach your stomach or liver for processing, just spreads out from your chest and into your bloodstream. The room seems a little brighter, and the occupants a bit more 'real' before you, interesting physical details about them popping up into your notice.
Jeremy blinks, and half-staggers to his chair, eyes widening as he does so. "Oh...wow...oh. Wild...wild..." He sits there for a long moment, just carefully studying Alejandra, a gentle smile twisting his lips as he seems to float.
Alejandra still has her eyes closed, examining the inside of her lids with a pleased smile on her lips.
Jeremy, ever the scientist, notes for later reference, "...fast-acting. Way fast-acting...unstable state of matter...mmm." He lets his gaze shift back towards his glass...peering down inside at whatever remains.
Alejandra notes in a disgusted tone, "Doc, yer such a /square/, I can't b'lieve't sometimes."
Jeremy lets himself drift for a moment, before he speaks down into the glass. "...oh...man. Maybe so. I wanna stop that."
Alejandra's voice drops down to a more intimate level.
Jeremy takes a cue from Alejandra, his own voice lowering. He looks up at her, sighing somewhat.
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