Again, Benson's head clicks through the motions of a nod. "I understand. And thank you for the information. I fully intend to do just that." He glances around at each of the new arrivals, then unfolds his arms from behind his back and lifts his suitcase slightly. "But in the meantime, I need to get settled in. And this is getting a little busy for me. I'm not exactly used to hanging about in crowds. So, unless any of you require some service of me, I'll be going now."
His gaze lingers on Hanna a little longer than the others. Something in his stance indicates a sort of deference to the Fairest, a natural desire to serve. He is a Chatelaine, after all, and she Fairest; he is born to serve, and she to command service. But there's a little more to it than that, though he doesn't say it.
Anya picked up her drink and moved back across to the bar, where some of the others were gathered. She would keep an eye on the table across from her, containing Clare and the touchy-feely Dominyk. She knew the Constable could handle anything, but it wouldn't hurt to have another pair of eyes.
She nodded wordlessly to Rook, not interrupting his conversation but a small indication that they should talk when he's available.
Rea cocked her head to the side and stared at Otto for a few seconds before shrugging. "Very well," she said, writing a phone number on a napkin and handing it to the otter. "Just let me know...I think that I'll leave now, however. There are...It's a bit croweded," she managed after a while.
"I'll be around," she said to Rook, before leaving. "We should speak sometime. Take care, in the meantime."
Thomas' eyes moved from person to person in the bar, taking brief stock of its patrons, before he decided it was safe. He nodded to Rook and Heath, but his attention was drawn elsewhere. Relaxing enough to move, his poleaxed look faded, and he walked up next to Anya. He smiled at her, genuinely happy to have found a group such as this- though some apprehension still lay behind his eyes.
"My name is Thomas Attercap." He extended a frozen hand.
The Draconic half-turned as Tyler sidled next to her, and took a few seconds to study the unfamiliar man. Her expression was politely indifferent and her gaze flickered from his face to his offered hand, and back again.
"Anya Wyrmblood," she stated softly, and nodded behind him. "I believe he asked you a question." Anya raised a hand, extending a taloned finger toward Rook.
Otto pockets the number and gives her wave goodbye as she leave. "Thanks. See ya later Irea." Looking at his watch he realizes he had to be off as well. Walking over to Tally and Kuni, he gives them both a wave. "Gotta take off, work and all that. Nice seeing you again Tally. Kuni, gimme a call about putting something togther." Otto says before heading out.
Thomas nodded, and smiled at Rook. "My apologies. My only question, though, isn't really something for a public venue." He looked around the bar, looking for a quiet corner in which more discreet questions could be asked.
Rook nodded his goodbye to Benson, and his hello to Anya, somewhat reluctantly. Then he turned to the newcomer who'd just called him a tinman. Behind the sunglasses, his brow settled into a sharp frown. He wasn't tin. He was steel. And if he had been in that newcomer's position, he wouldn't have been randomly slinging about comments about how people looked.
Nor did he take kindly to being spoken of as a possession.
"I'm a long standing member of the community here, not the proprietor, and I'm not your tinman," he said, his eyebrow raising. "So maybe Dorothy ought to watch her manners next time. What's your name? You too," He added to the snowheart walking towards the bar. "Nice to meet new faces. I'll answer what questions you've got. If you want to go somewhere more private, there's a few places."
"Relax, it's just a joke," said Heath apologetically to the metallic gentleman. "And my name's Heath Moore. I see, so you're an important guy here. That requires that you maintain appearances, I gotcha. All that pressure, all the more reason to stay loose." But then again how did one loosen metal? Oil maybe? The guy was starting to resemble an FBI agent with those shades on which was making Heath uncomfortable.
"So, Mr. Longstanding, may I stand you a drink then?" God knows he needed one himself. He looked back to the frosty gentleman again who seemed to be hovering beside them, a little too eager for privacy. These two seemed all about business, so serious. But that's what comedians were for, he supposed, and he was feeling charitable. "Hey, stop me if you've heard this one. A weatherman gets caught driving in an ice storm, ends up breaking both his arms and legs when his car slips off the road into a tree. When he's discharged from the hospital he goes back to work and his boss asks, 'hey, what's with the four casts?'"
Draft this Post
