You Call This a Pub?

Sep 3rd, 2015 03:38 PM

The music was blaring in the shitty bar that was a clear example of where dreams go to die. A very past her prime woman was fawning over a group of middle aged men, probably hoping for one of several things that they sure as hell wanted to give her. An old jukebox with a fist shaped hole in the glass sat in the corner untouched, clearly long past the ability to be fixed. Strange memorabilia from long forgotten times were hanging in different parts of the bar, though many were starting to be covered by tacky beer signs and banners for several different sports teams. A TV with its volume off was playing on the side of the bar with a grouping of fans for whatever sporting event was playing that night. Cheers and booze could be seen and heard every time someone scored a touchdown or hit a home run or whatever the fuck they did in whatever sport it was. Off to the side a couple twenty somethings smoked on cigarettes and played a terrible game of pool while their drunken girlfriends, or probably just women they picked up there, stood around and told them how good they were. A couple women sat at a booth drinking their terrible drinks and laughing about something they must have done at work that day.

All Bridger could think about was that Lil Jon was right when he sang 'shots, shots, shots'! A huge grin spread across his face as the components for an 'Irish car bomb' were brought over for his enjoyment. To be honest he didn't enjoy it's taste, he just liked the end result. Whiskey plus Irish cream plus stout equals a race to get fucked up. He downed the shot, dranking it as fast as he could. Wait too long and you'd...well a normal person...would be throwing up all night from curdled shit. With the last of it down his throat, he turned towards the rest of the bar, held up his glass, and he yelled, "NOW THAT'S FUCKIN' RIGHT EH?" A couple drunks gave a hearty cheer, many more looked at him like the drunk man he was going to become.

He turned back to the bartender and tapped the bar twice with his glass. "That was nothin' mate, give me something real fuckin' strong this time," he said with a laugh. Now this was the life.

**Cabochard** · Sep 3rd, 2015 04:00 PM

When you arrive in a new town, and want to meet people, you go check out where people congregate. If you want to meet People, you go to where loud, aggressive people can pass unnoticed. Gyms, fight clubs...pubs. In the interest of making a good impression when he did find one of his kind, Ryoushi had dressed to impress. Long-sleeved white button-up shirt, a black jacket and black pants, and dark-colored, clean-looking sneakers. The only really good-looking clothes he had left over.

The large Japanese man pushed his way through the door quietly, and was immediately assaulted by the powerful scents and sounds in the room. His face scrunched up and he blinked tears away, then looked around, sampling the air to find the scent he wanted. It didn't take much effort - Uratha smelled very particular.

Looking distinctly out of place, Ryoushi approached the bar and waved for the bartender's attention. "Water, please." He wasn't 100% sure what they served across the Pacific, so he erred on the side of caution and accepted his water quietly, then turned to observe the loud, obnoxious, aggressive individual.

Sep 3rd, 2015 04:56 PM

One must always be on the alert, even when having fun. Bridger took in a breath after his laugh and in came Uratha. He kept his grin but lowered his head. Hearing the request for water he turned and scratched his chin, looking the Asian wolf up and down. "Oi! Well don't you just look like the bee's bloody knees. You always come to a pub and get water?" He shook his head and chuckled to himself. "Brilliant mate, just brilliant."

He stared at the wolf for a long second, taking one more sniff before he spoke again. "Must be new. I'm Bridger." He needed to be more friendly anyway.

**Cabochard** · Sep 3rd, 2015 05:09 PM

Don't give in, but don't challenge. It was a delicate balance, keeping from offending an Uratha while simultaneously trying not to submit before you got any sort of proof as to his right to be one of the High. The well-dressed man stayed relaxed, leaning against the bar, and made sure to maintain eye contact. "Only on days ending in y." He kept his face straight while he answered, the accent doing its part to hide the amusement.

Ryoushi allowed himself to be sniffed, letting the other wolf get a good idea of his sent, then extended his hand for a more traditional Western greeting. "Hamasaki Ryoushi."

Sep 3rd, 2015 05:30 PM

Bridger's face was firm. Solid as a rock some would say. He stared Hamasaki right in the eye, gauging the man. Would he be friend or foe? Could he be trusted? None of that mattered though when he busting into a strong laugh. "That's fuckin' funny mate." He took the man's hand in a firm shake and said "Good to meet you, can I call you Hama?"

Without waiting for a response he continued, "Now tell me Hama, what brings you to such a dodgy place as this fine establishment?"

It was a fair question. The man was wearing a suit to the shittiest bar Bridger had ever seen...okay not really, he'd been to shittier bars, but it was still pretty bad. Bridger on the other hand was in a white tanktop and a bomber jacket, perfect for a drunkard. One of them certainly fit in more than the other.

**Aeneas** · Sep 3rd, 2015 05:54 PM

Aeneas slinks in, looking for ~~trouble~~ a drink. The rangy fellow has that lascivious grin stuck on his face again and his beady eyes light up when he sees the ladies. He even chuckles quietly to himself at some private joke only known to him and what passes for his internal monologue.

He makes for the bar and barks some garbled verbiage indicating that he will have a beer. He pays with a certain deliberate slowness, doling out a series of crumpled notes and change that come to exactly the right amount, grinning broadly while he does. It is only once he has his beer in hand - cap twisted off using the bar counter as leverage - that he spares the other patrons a sidelong glance.

The glance stays, becoming a stare. The stare stays and the Irraka shifts his whole body round to face the other wolves. Nostrils flare as he sniffs.

"Ahs Aeneas," he drawls before chugging his pale ale.

**Cabochard** · Sep 3rd, 2015 07:29 PM

"No." The Japanese man snapped it out quickly, at Bridger. "Hamasaki, that is what you can call me." He shook his head. "I was looking for you. Or those like you. Us." He retracted his hand after shaking Bridger's, and turned to the new smell in the crowd.

When he saw that he wasn't wrong and that it was, indeed, one more of the People sitting next to him, he pushed himself off of the bar. It didn't take a very keen eye to find that he was now almost surrounded. He wasn't going to be rude and assume they were going to kill him. But it payed to be careful. Ryoushi stuck out his hand to shake Aeneas'. "Hamasaki Ryoushi."

Sep 3rd, 2015 07:54 PM

The correction takes down the high of the fun. Looking to the bartender he watched as the man brings what looks like straight-up whiskey. "This all you got? I'll take this, but get me a serious drink, sharpish." In an instant the shot is downed and slammed upside down on the counter. "You must be taking the piss out of me, all fuckin' serious. Fine, Hamasaki it is." With that the scent of a new wolf entered his nostrils and he turned to see the new 'friend' sitting at the bar. "Well looks like you found what you were looking for."

Bridger looked the new wolf right in the eyes then nodded his head up in a friendly guy gesture. "Bridger mate."

Sep 3rd, 2015 11:44 PM

"Fucking wonderful" Shawn said to himself as he set the keg he had just brought in from his trunk down on the stained floor of the kitchen. In between the acrid wafts of stale beer and nightly refreshed urine from the bumm filled alley at his back, Shawn could detect the scent of 3 Uratha from the common room of the pub. Not necessarily an unwelcome scent, but not exactly what he had planned when he picked up the shift. Shawn just reminded himself that not all roads were chosen ... some were picked for you. Sacramento, this bar, perhaps this was what Luna had in store for him when the visions called for him to leave the comforts of Edinburgh and travel halfway around the world.

"This all you got? I'll take this, but get me a serious drink, sharpish," drifted in from the open door of the common room, presumably from one of the newcomers as this bar's usual clientele normally kept to themselves or at worst, to the strumpets they were trying to court. The keg hadn't had time to chill but then again only these American amateurs served their brews cold and if the gentleman truly wanted something stronger well then perhaps he might just have the taste buds to appreciate Shawn's newest concoction. Technically a little more potent than the local board allowed to be served on tap, but in a shit stye such as this place, Shawn wasn't exactly worried about an inspection from the local licensing agency. He hefted the keg and maneuvered it in place beneath a tap, filled four glasses and walked out to set a pint in front of each of the Uratha. Hoping the dark amber liquid was not soon to be mingling with another dark red tinted liquid, his own or belonging to the other wolves before him.

**Violet** · Sep 4th, 2015 01:07 AM

The door opens and Molly Daniels walks into the bar. It has been a long run from Kentucky, and the Cahalith just wants a drink. She is wearing clean jeans, although stained with the heavy mahogany of wood stain, and a zipped up brown Carhartt jacket. On her feet are some well worn sneakers, clean but stained from mud.

She makes her way across the bar, paying no mind to any of the patrons inside. A one track mind, she just wants an ice cold drink.

It isn't until she's all the way up to the bar that she notices the Uratha there. Five of them, a pack then.

Well, they'd notice her soon enough. For now, she still wanted that drink. She pulls a twenty dollar bill from her pocket and holds it in front of herself to flag down a bartender. When a member of the staff finally takes notice of her, she gives them an apologetic look while she gives her order, "I'll have whatever passes for good beer in a place like this." She takes ten dollars in change and leaves the rest for the bartender.

Molly points herself towards the group of Uratha and waits to see if they will approach her.

You Call This a Pub?

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