The Bar Scene

[Circe]

Circe's suit was a standard of attire for her, the jacket and slacks a nice formal touch. At least they would be if the Summer Monarch hadn't decided to leave the jacket hanging open with only a red half tank beneath. She wasn't expecting trouble at such a high end place so no need for her usual accessory. She could certainly show some skin at a place praised by Playboy.


The Tequila Slammer finally squired, the current leader of Sacramento's Summer looked around and noticed a gaggle of 'lings that included some new faces. And was the source of a powerful Summer Mantle, perhaps even superior to her own? That made her face go neutral. On the one hand she had kept Summer's presence in town solo quite a lot lately and this might be someone that would usurp her well earned authority.


On the other hand, less responsibility.


Sipping her drink, the blue Fairest decides to see what the would be challenger would be. Walking right up to the group she smiles around her drink. "Hmm, well hello boys are ladies allowed at this party," her tone is neutral as she lowers the drink as crimson eyes linger most on Richard, "Another new face in town is it?"


She takes a step closer to Richard as she looks him up and down, stone cold red eyes assessing him. Then stone breaks as the eyes fill with glee and blue lips break into a smile. The Gunbunny Smurfette has opted for the aggressively friendly approach, "Ciao pal, how ya doin'? If the boys don't wanna do introductions we can handle it. 'cause I like the air about ya, reminds me of me," she spreads her arms in glee, "always good ta have more folks like us in our club. Ya have a name that ya can claim?"

[Richard Price]

Clue presented themselves that settled Rich’s mind that this was more than likely an elemental he was dealing with. The blunt assessment was intriguing to say the least, gave him an idea of what he was dealing with if this was the assessment of things already. The emerald courtier didn’t do much to help the case, the explanation leading the mind down a certain path. Bridges he would cross when he got to them.

Seems like we have a colorful collection to say the least it seems. It may be a more eventful retirement than I had been expecting.

”Rich, pleasure.” He offered Abraham, ”Here is hoping it makes a decent enough place for both of us. If I can find a few more places as lively as this I don’t think it will be that bad.” He shifted back in his seat, and lifted his phone, glancing at the messages and quickly swiping his finger across the keyboard and sending the message, letting them know he was getting busy here. Rich glanced as Fawkes had quickly lifted himself up and approached the bar.

Another one? Did I stumble upon hottest Lost bar in the city? In the midst of his original drinking partner heading off to the bar, ANOTHER of the fair folk presented himself. He first noticed her as the hot pressure of his mantle rose and bubbled for a moment for sinking back down, the sense of imminent eruptions seeming to be a constating beating heart of threat. The woman made a forward introduction, and Rich had to chuckle.

”If you think you want to sit with a bunch of mugs like us, the more the merrier.” He chuckled softly as he uncrossed his legs, grasping his drink in both hands at the base of the glass. ”Plus if anyone is getting tossed, it will probably be my black ass” He gave a hearty laugh at the expense of his mask.

This was followed by the stare, with a grin still on his face his own iron gray eyes locked with the red not wilting under the gaze. Glass ‘em. The quick turn to jovial was a relief that the days of impulsiveness were far behind him. ”Well I’m glad people can still look up to their elders” The relative blessings of the season were not lost on him.

Fawkes returned, this time with the cold breeze that had brushed his neck earlier, which began to make more sense now. He extended his hand to meet Maxwell’s, offering the same tight grip he had given the others. ”Rich,” he offered to both Circe and Maxwell, trying to avoid sounding like a parrot when it came to saying his own name. ”retirement mostly. A dollar in LA is worth three here so figured might as well make the most out of what I squirreled away.” He raised the drink to his lips, finishing what was left before turning back, motioning to one of the servers and mouthing ‘another, please’, quickly returning his attention to the group.

[Fawkes]

Fawkes's looks at his hand before it locks around Maxwell's in a similar matter to Abraham, with just enough pressure to remain comfortable. It took a lot more body awareness than he was used to. Talking and touching was making him feel something that made his carapace feel too tight. He wanted to explode and be done with it. Instead the plate with his stimulant cracks.

Sitting back in his original spot, he was about to drop the definition of 'stupid' as a lack of common sense, but found himself nodding to the familiar arrival,

"M'am."

Back to the bard, "Fawkes."

Back to Maxwell, "Work."

Conversation usually gives something for them to respond to, he decides to throw the question right back, "What keeps you here?"

[Circe]

Circe shakes Maxwell's hand and continues to focus on Richard. Circe shrugs with a smile, "Course I would. Nothin' wrong with a mug, especially since I consider myself ta be quite the thug. And they try, a supervillian will kick their ass. Since I'm Circe," she gladly shakes his hand. And was completely unaware that her namesake was actually a goddess. Probably better for her ego that she didn't.

Then Fawkes returned, "Cheers Fawkes. Aaaand I don't know what yer talkin' about but I can guess. I'm here shipping," she tilts her head with her right ear raised up and left one lowered down, "Theeeeee wholesaling kind not match making. Not sure if its wholesaling but best I can think of fer buy low sell high profit."

[Richard Price]

The group grew at a pretty healthy rate, more than he would have ever expected it too at this point. It seemed that it had overwhelmed the wizened for a moment, that or he was caught simply listening. It was not the first time he would have seen one of their persuasion become more an observer than participant, but that was no reason to stir any pot. Everyone gave their answers, Fawkes’ answers being of particular interest, but he would leave that for the moment as the fruity one was directly speaking to him now, and it would be rude to ignore him.

”Fortune favors the bold, so long as you are willing to take a lick of two for asking.” He gave a small chuckle, before he was tapped on the shoulder, the server handing him another drink and taking his old glass. He leaned back for a moment and whispered something to her before making a circle motion with his finger before letting his arm fall back on the arm of the chair. “They should have a pitcher here for us, hope you don’t mind the local draft.” It would have been rude to not offer a drink for his company, especially seeing as he had been the instigating magnet.

“”I don’t believe I caught your name though, that or I may be old.” he asked Abraham directly, not remembering if a name had been slipped into the conversation or not, at least not that he could remember. “But to answer the question, I didn’t serve in any official capacity one could say. I took some toll’s for a while,” a reference to the Toll Taker Knighthood, more a rag tag band of vagabonds than noble warriors, ”And I spent some time under a knight,” night sky or the avowed warrior, to the lost it was likely an easier conclusion to make, “And beyond that I more or less shuffled around getting into trouble here and there but always coming when they called me in. Paid off as they actually paid well, and I got myself a nice little house a short drive from the bar scene.” He laughed again at his own joke.

However Abraham made an almost cute joke about the color of money, it almost warmed Rich’s heart that some were so naive. ”Oh my sweet boy, I wish it were true, but if you were black in the seventies or eighties it was a different time. I was used to checking over my shoulder before [i]this[i].” He said motioning to his mien, which may have looked odd if a mortal had a sharp eye, but it proved his point. He still seemed in high spirits, and more so was looking to educate than chastise.

[Fawkes]

Fawkes watches Rich's gesture with suspicion, before the old memory of 'a round' trickled back somewhere from the seething storm. He frowned internally, trapped between keeping tabs on his intake and insulting aristocracy. The nuance did not come naturally: the Elemental distinctly remembered the last time he rejected a drink from a noble Spear, and had nursed the split across his face for two weeks. One should be fine.

He ponders an appropriate way of expanding on Abraham's nudge for details, "...Private security. I can clean, too." Money got tight sometimes.

The waitress frowns at his cracked plate, murmuring an apology before returning it to the kitchen. "Would you say you hold yourself to a Gold Standard?" Fawkes asked, slipping in the well-known guild of glory hounds. It was important to know which Lost in this community would sacrifice safety over a chance at attention and praise.

"Right now, I'm interested in contracts." He stares at the group, "Lack of job security makes me nervous." Unless all of these creatures were part of a big, incestuous Motley Pledge, the population was way too mobile to survive off good intentions.