[Tall Johnny's]With a wiggling walk and a giggling talk (Mu)

[Sergei]

54 Spring, 512 He wasn’t here for the fights. In fact, Sergei wasn’t even sure if there were going to be any this night. Since the storm, things had seemed in a state of flux – and not the type of flux that turned a man’s hand into a sledge hammer. No, the city was on its head, and everyone still seemed a bit on edge. Icons such as Tall Johnny’s were even affected, and business in the city seemed to be constantly shifting. Sergei didn’t like that feeling of instability. The Sunberth of before the Djed storm had never been a bastion of propriety. But at least he had known his place, and the place of those he worked for. Now it seemed like the citizens were using the storm as a way to bypass some of the unwritten rules of the city – such as paying protection money and handing over part of the profits of the various criminal enterprises they might be involved in. Sergei had been to Johnny’s to meet up with another such as himself and talk some business. It had gone well enough, but he still felt a certain uneasiness in the pit of his stomach. Of course, that could be due to the skipped lunch and dinner. But he wasn’t hungry, not yet. He wanted something to calm this feeling of unrest, and as he parted from his business associate, Sergei made his way to the showy bar that ran the length of the room he was in. Scattered over the center of the room were tables set up for various games of chance, or skill, depending on how you looked at it. Sergei was the type of man who liked to think he could beat the house, and he had lost a good deal of money proving himself wrong. Tonight . . . well tonight, he thought he’d just stick to drinking. There was still a lot to be done before he would turn in, and he didn’t need to get wrapped up in the heady rollercoaster of gambling. So he grabbed a stool and slid onto it, resting his forearms on the polished bar surface. Best stick with something simple, and relatively light weight, he thought to himself, and then ordered a beer when the barman came over. Too bad – he would have preferred being waited on by one of the half naked young women whose job it was to ply the patrons with booze and make them forget how much money they were losing. He should know. But here at the bar, it was just himself, the guy pouring out the drinks, and a few random customers, talking with heads together, or sat alone. As his dark eyes ran down the bar, his heavy brows lifted a bit when he saw the individual occupying the very last seat at the far end of the counter. Talk about your dark, mysterious femme fatale. From this distance, he could make out very little, but the fact that she was alone was probably all that he needed to keep his eyes glued. If she looked up and caught him being a totally pervy douche, so what? Wouldn’t be the first time, nor the last. And it sure wasn’t like women didn’t enjoy being admired. They did. He just had to play the game right. With his peripheral vision, Sergei kept an eye out for any partner coming to join her. But there didn’t seem to be anyone returning to sit next to her. So he hazarded a finger to summon the barman over and pointed at the lone woman. “Whatever she’s having,” he said. “Next one’s on me.” A few moments unwinding in the company of a pretty woman – that would be worth the price of a drink, he thought, his eyes now fixed on his own mug of beer. Hell, he could use a little peace, a little pleasant company, the softness that a woman typically would bring into his life, if only for an hour or two or four. Yep, Sergei thought. That was just what he needed – soft curves and a cute giggle to help him relax.

[Musca]

What was it about Tall Johnny's that reminded her of familiar grounds? Was it the quick wit of luck when dice is thrown for the sake of mirth? The waffly fumes of tobacco smoke and blood and sweat mingling as one? The crowded bodies that made no room for another? The ungodly amount of noise that was roared and basked in? Oh, all that and more, certainly. Bloodsport. A wonderful name. Straightforward, easy to understand. With it alone, one could already imagine the stomping of feet that roughly rumbled the ground, the sweet rotten apples that told tales of stale blood that lie dormant under the cracked surface of drying new blood. So easy to grasp and decipher. Musca needed that. Two men stood imposingly in front of the double doors, scanning and almost glaring at anyone who passed them, muscles gaunt with their arms across their broad chest. The Zith grimaced, pulling her cloak tighter to herself instinctively. They were the first Akalaks she'd seen in her life, and true to the stories and rumours she'd heard in Xy, they were.... intimidating. Certainly, these men would have no trouble killing her if they ever... she stopped. The thought drew out an unfamiliar dread in her, a sinking feeling that made her almost panic and run. And as the space between them shortened, her heartbeats seem to pace quicker, her hands growing slicker and wet. But part of her mind rebelled, the only thing that kept her bravely forward. Why should she run when she knew they wouldn't notice her wings or fur? Why should she run when she knew she had every right to enter? It fuelled her, these thoughts, gave her recklessness that could only be mustered by arrogance. She smiled thinly as she passed them, forced herself to hold their gaze longer than what she would like and tried desperately to walk normally inside. They only nodded and stared ahead. They were stone walls, these men. The casino greeted her her with fine smoggy arms, of exposed flesh and gargles of laughter. With one breath alone, she already felt drunk off the booze that permeated the air, a sticky substance that lured men and women to reach into their pockets and toss out the coins in their hands. With a mug on their hands, they were transported to a place where they were invincible and free- nothing to limit them, nothing to hide from. A place in which every emotion and thought seemed to be amplified and carry a greater weight, each action a catalyst to a greater reaction. What simple creatures humans were. A whore on their laps and a dice or a pack of card in their hands and some booze... who knew it happiness could be so easily attained? There was a touch of elegance in it's simplicity, no matter how crude. A waitress shot past her, glaring as she sidestepped the Zith, half from jealousy, half in irritation- all those petty emotions that made them so wonderful. Without thinking, a claw shot towards her and grabbed her gently by the elbow. "What the-" the girl started, clearly unprepared. Once she realised the touch was not one for groping, she casted her eyes at the woman and scowled. "Whaddaya want?" Musca smiled, slightly baring her teeth as she did so. "There are better uses in that temper of yours than unjustified attacks on unknowing costumers, girl." She was a slow creature, this girl. A blush came over her face, from either insult or embarrassment, Musca wasn't quite sure. "A-ah, you-" the waitress stopped, oriented herself, remembering the risks."What would you need, miss?" For a moment, Musca only held her gaze, staring deeply without much reason. She drew away her claw and smiled brightly. "When is the next game coming on?" "It- it just ended, actually." Stammered the girl, her hold on the plate of mugs wavering."If you wanna wait for it, you can go wait at the bar... there's a lot people there that can tell ya a thing or two about betting."With one last smile, Musca nodded and followed her fingertip, leaving a trail of eyes stuck at her back. She slipped inside the stool of the bar, a thrum of good mood growing in her, willing her to forget her previous encounters that lay unpleasantly in her mind. With her nod to the bartender, her resolve for lightheartedness grew stronger. Some ale, maybe catch a game and bet... Musca smiled and sipped her ale. For a while, the Zith only sipped and listened to the world around her, taking in the shameless banter of games and shouts, the shuffle of cards and the rowdiness of humans, her mind momentarily content and free from worries. Oh, but it seemed that the gods of chance were playing another trick once again- with a sentence that was slightly diluted from the noise around her, carried an possibility for more than just gambling and booze. But would she take it? Musca sipped her ale again, hiding a grin with the rim of the mug. The night was simply far too young to be denied. With a nod, she beckoned to the bartender, smiling sweetly as she said, "Tell that man over there that his manners are atrocious; leaving a woman to nurse a mug alone when it's bought by another is certainly very rude." She thrust her mug at the bartender, blatantly ignoring his confusion with a wink. "And a refill, thanks. Courtesy of the man of questionable conduct."

[Sergei]

As the very one that he had targeted almost immediately summoned the barman herself, Sergei watched the exchange with some curiosity. He wondered if his timing was simply coincidentally coinciding with her own need for more of whatever she was drinking. If so, all to the better, he thought with satisfaction, as the barkeep filled her cup up. His offer was well timed, then, and she might find that intriguing. Hopefully the damned git wouldn’t forget to tell her this one was on him. When the barman then turned and made his way back to Sergei, he waited to see the outcome of his gesture, his dark eyes on the woman still, though hers were fixed on a spot somewhere above and beyond the bar. “She must be a mind reader, that one.” The barkeep jerked his thumb towards the far end of the bar. “Or maybe she’s just got lots of practice, if you know what I mean.” He winked at Sergei, as he added, “Seems she knew you’d stand her one before you did.” The man chuckled. “And she wants you – leastwise, she did mention something about being left alone and you having bad manners.” He gave Sergei a knowing look and a grin. “I think you’re in.” Sergei did not smile back, but nodded, once. Picking up his own cup, he rose from the stool and strode sedately down to where she sat. Being closer, he could see her better than when she had been obscured by the shadows cast by the wall. She was definitely … exotic looking. Otherwordly, in fact. He was surprised the Akalaks at the door even let her in, and he was half inclined to turn right back around and leave this one alone. But … well, he was never a man to shrink from a challenge. Thoughts of easy, relaxing female companionship – sweet smiles and fluttering eyelashes died a quick death, and he couldn’t really say he was sorry to let them go, as he looked at his new drinking companion. Sergei rested one forearm along the bar counter and leaned his weight on it. “My apologies for sending a messenger.” His voice was low, deep and impassive. “If I had known you were one who would want the gift straight from the source, I would have filled you up myself.” He paused for a moment, still looking and still not sitting. “Next time I’ll know better.”

[Musca]

She could hear the nervous palpitations of his edgy heartbeat, the sonorous thrum that told a creatures growing sense of danger. Yet, he approached her still, but smartly gave same space between them. A smart move for a what seems to be a foolish man. His tone was... deceptively indifferent. Amusingly so. If it weren't for the sweet hum of pulsations that hid behind his words and manner, she would've believed it and would've most likely lash out at him. To have the gift of hearing the slightest rustle of leaves was so very satisfying when immersed in civilised company. While the mind is a foolish and weak, the body was never known to lie. Musca smirked, swallowing her growing glee and the ale back lest she scare the poor sod more than she did. The Zith listened closely to his smooth prattles- of apologies skirted with flirtation. Musca only continued to drink her ale, vaguely eying another man from across the room as she noted to herself to visit him later if this one fled. As the silence grew between them, she sent the latter man a small sultry smile once their eyes tangled together. "Next time, I'll know better." She smiled and set the drink down, her finger circling the rim of the mug. At each stroke, the movement muffled out any words that may come between them, building tension and static brush by brush. What was a little teasing without it's playful sibling? "You presume," she drawled, slightly pausing, "that I would be still interested in you by the end of our little tirade." Her finger stopped and she finally regard the man with a smirk. "Arrogance and bad manners are not very attractive traits when talking to a lady." Once again, she switched her attentions back to the mug and the other man ahead of her, her smile almost beckoning him to her side. "But then again, no proper lady would even step inside an establishment such as this. If your looking for company that twitters like an airhead, then I think a whore or a barmaid would be better than a woman eying another man, don't you think?" Musca turned to him once again, flashing him with a saccharine grin and propped her elbows on top of the table, resting her cheek on an open palm. Slowly, she examined the man beside her, a lazy smile blooming on her lips. Oh, she would certainly have fun with this one. "However, I do appreciate what I'm seeing so far. Why don't you indulge me with some information about yourself? You don't look the type to enjoy the fights... nor do you look like a man that would have much luck with dice and cards." She broke off from her small rant, a small laugh escaping her. "Or maybe your simply just hunting for some good company?" The Zith gestured to the barkeep once more to fill her cup, this time partway and took her time drinking the liquid. Once finished, she sighed whimsically and cracked a grin at the man. "Now then. Enough of that. Company, after all, is better shared when it's sweet and fleeting. Now that you have my attention, how shall you keep it?"

[Fallacy]

XP Award! Name:Sergei XP Award: +1 Observation +1 Rhetoric +1 Drinking Lore: Tall Johnny's Notes: Name:Musca XP Award: +1 Observation +1 Interrogation +1 Drinking +1 Rhetoric Lore: Tall Johnny's Notes: Please subtract the cost of ale from your ledger. PM with questions or concerns. Any questions or concerns about the rewards gained please send a PM