(Open Scene) Nuit D'Encre Grand Opening

[Connor OBrien]

Even from outside the sound of live music can be heard by all approaching the alley that holds the entrance to Nuit D'Encre. A man in a black suit is stationed outside the nondescript door whose only indication to where it leads is the small placard that reads 'Nuit D'Encre: Pitch Black Night.' As you approach the man offers a bow, and in a deep voice he says “Welcome to Nuit D'Encre, please, enjoy your stay.”


Inside, the chill of the February air is shed and replaced by the warmth expected in a high class establishment. The lights are dimmed slightly, offering to the 'film noir' vibe of the bar. There is a square bar set up against the backwall, with glass shelves (holding a menagerie of bottles and macabre décor) in the middle. On the far right side, stands a small stage holding a band playing jazz covers of popular songs. The rest of the right side of the bar is dominated by a small dance floor in front of the stage. To the left of the stage on the same wall as the bar is a door with a placard that reads 'VIP lounge.' This door is secured by a key card reader like one would find on a hotel room door.


That door, which would normally be closed and electronically locked, is propped open tonight. It seems that the entire bar is available for the grand opening. Inside the VIP room, one will find that while it fits the overall aesthetic, it is more modern in design. Soft couches line walls bathed in a red light. Small pin pricks of green light decorate the floor and walls from well placed laser projectors. There is a smaller bar just inside and to the right of the door, which is manned by one individual.


The proprietor; a man, who some recognize as Connor O'Brien, standing at 5foot 11 inches with medium length brown-red hair messily done up, can be found at the main bar with a drink already in hand. He's wearing an expensive looking Charcoal suit and tie, with a wide smile as he converses with a bartender, assuring her that she'll do just fine.


Welcome All to Nuit D'Encre.

[R Quartermain]

The music sounded like ages past as he approached the place, taking in the lines of the building. Thoughts and memories floated through him – a city street, jazz music, trials, tribulations, and troubles. He’d never drank – not in the way most would have thought of it, but something whiskey soaked and smoke flavored floated along the back of his mind. Was it prohibition? The roaring 20’s? Something in the post-war 40’s?

The soldier shook his head, trying to shake clear that whiskey sour memory and cursing the fog of memory for not the first time. The words, he reflected, as he gave his invitation to the front man were not words he knew even through the style of music was incredibly familiar.

It would have had to been the 40’s he mused, looking slowly over the lines and designs of architecture. The place had been built with a modern eye for ‘antiquated’ lines and, admittedly, well done. A far cry from the bare and blank walls of his mediocre haven. There would be time enough to change that, time enough to build….

He’d chosen something more casual this evening; a choice made by purpose to blend in with the rest of the world around him as much as the blush of health upon his skin. He’d left the jacket behind, despite the cold of the wind – not that he felt it anyways – and opted for a vest and tie with his sleeves rolled up. A small gold and amethyst tie pin dotted the simple tie and a hundred leaved rose affixed to the lapel of his vest. He’d dotted his hands with a few rings of middling value and less point to complete the look which, apparently had come back into fashion with beards. No small favor there, he noted, before his eyes fell on Conner and he tilted from his thoughts as he nodded a greeting, heading over.

“Mr. O’Brian,” he said politely, extending a warm hand in greeting, clearly choosing mister given the open presence of regular people about. “I thank you for the invitation.”

[Connor OBrien]

The Haunt's turns his head to the side slightly as his conversation naturally peters out when he feels the approach of one of his own kind. It's a mask for his supernatural perception, he sees Quartermain approaching out of his peripherals, of course. He turns to face the elder, the smile still plastered on his face. "Welcome, Mr. Quartermain." He says as he takes the offered handshake, his lilting voice warm and friendly. "Please, when we're out of the office, feel free to call me Connor." The language is there, a message buried within, hopefully the Lord could pick up on it.

He takes another sip of amber colored liquid from his glass. "I thank you for taking me up on the invitation. You're actually the first to arrive; feel free to order whatever you like, it's on the house; consider it another welcome to Sacramento."

In your next post, you may want to click 'Go Advanced' and find the expenditure section so you can note the expenditure of Vitae for the Blush of Life, just for book keeping purposes.

[Helen Kingsley]

"Thank you."

The doorman makes her wonder what awaits her inside, really. Well, arriving inside, it's not quite what she's expected, but knowing a little about O'Brien, it makes perfect sense, though. Dimmed lights, a band jazzing up what the texts suggest to be more recent numbers... It fits. There's not too much going on right now, so she takes her time for a walk-through of the front. A little tour for the bar for some impression of what's in stock there, having a closer look at the assortment in those glass shelves and shortly looking over band and dancefloor. Looks like she'll pass on the latter, though. Nice spot, although that begs the question whats in the restricted area, apart from the obvious, that is.

Thus, she slowly ambles over to the backroom. A little more modern, a little more green. A little more what she's expected.

Looking around, she spots Conner and the other fanger she's shortly seen last court. Registering them now, perhaps getting any closer isn't too much of a good idea. At least something in the back of her head suggests quite clearly that waiting the whole thing out in the front might not be too bad after all, but she forces herself forward nonetheless. She's wearing a rather plain blue dress tonight, her usual court dress, really, together with flat heels and basically no further frills apart from a thin chain with a small pendant. And that annoying small handbag that can fit basically nothing inside but is still better than taping stuff to other stuff to carry it.

Oh, and that small basket with a bells of Ireland bouquet in it. Because it fits. And its green. And she thinks it's funny.

Kitted out like that, she wlks towards the two folks at the bar (discounting the girl behind the bar).

"Very nice place you put up here, Connor. Congratulations and thanks for the invite." She first offers a hand and then the basket to the fellow Haunt. After that, her attention switches to Connors current companion, whom she also offers the hand. "Evening ! Helen's the name, nice to meet you Mr. ... ?" Always awkward when she doesn't have a name ready... Eh, somethings always wrong, isn't it ?

The pendant

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[R Quartermain]

Thank you! I’ll do so now 

He says as he takes the offered handshake, his lilting voice warm and friendly. "Please, when we're out of the office, feel free to call me Connor." The language is there, a message buried within, hopefully the Lord could pick up on it.

The soldier regarded him for a moment, weighing the words – the offer, the opportunity, was there and was present; a chance to let the guard down. The rules of Court he knew, he understood, but this… the modern nights still confused him despite his last sleep only being a short one. Things had moved so fast in so few years – but perhaps some things remained the same.

“Conner, then,” he replied, albeit unable to remove some of the formality from his voice and posture. “And likewise, please call me Robert.”

"Very nice place you put up here, Connor. Congratulations and thanks for the invite." She first offers a hand and then the basket to the fellow Haunt. After that, her attention switches to Connors current companion, whom she also offers the hand. "Evening ! Helen's the name, nice to meet you Mr. ... ?" Always awkward when she doesn't have a name ready... Eh, somethings always wrong, isn't it ?

He turned, back stiffening faintly back into that rigid formality of court as the Haunt approached – even if he might not sense the Beast within her, the play of the shadows along her dress and skin sent icicle spider-legs crawling up his back and his own beast rose to meet it for the barest moment before he shrugged its insistent voice aside.

“Quartermain,” he replied as he took her hand, bowing over it slightly though making sure his lips did not actually touch her skin, “Robert Quartermain. A… pleasure. You are acquainted with Mr.. with Conner, yes?”

[Tiny]

Tiny has had weird clients before, its par for the course in the legal world.
But he's never had a client demand to meet at a brand new bar.
And then not show.
The first five minutes were spent reviewing the will he'd drafted. Five minutes more had allowed him the opportunity to bask in the music, a little old fashioned for his tastes, but certainly pleasant, and would provide enough musical cover to keep a conversation relatively private if spoken quietly. Five minutes more and he'd gotten bored with people watching, and gone back to reviewing the will, making a few corrections. However, after 20 minutes of being late, and with the client not answering his texts to her, he gives it up as a bad job. He puts the will back in his briefcase, and heads to the bar for a drink.

Tiny is quite short at 5 foot even, with a stockier build and a severely balding hairline. He is dressed in a suit and red tie with a white shirt, not out of place at any legal firm. His lapel has a silver thunderbolt on it, and its his only jewelry.

"Can I have a glass of white wine please? Something on the sweeter end?" He tips the bartender generously for the drink and opens a tab, and raises a glass to the trio at the bar. The handsome man in the center draws his eye, dressed in a more expensive suit. However, something about him is off putting, like he'd just heard a spider skittering up a wall. The woman next to him also provides just a little bit of disturbance, something not quite right. Maybe its the lighting? The older man has an impressive amount of jewelry to him, though they all seem to know each other, "To your health!" He raises his glass to them "And to finally having a bar that you can hear yourself think in." He laughs and grins at them with a wide, inviting smile.

[Connor OBrien]

The Haunt nods in response to Quartermain. "It can be difficult transitioning from the work mindset to the social one." He still remembers the cringe that came when first addressing Quinn by her first name. "But it'll be no problem soon enough, Robert."

Connor accepts Helen's outstretched hand and shakes it, then takes the basket and sets it on the bar next to him. With a quick look and jerk of his head, one of the bartenders moves it onto the glass shelves behind the bar to keep it safe. "Thank you Helen, for both the congratulations and the gift. Quite fitting honestly." If I didn't know any better, I'd say she was studying. It's more likely that she got lucky while being cheek.The Haunt holds up his hand as she offers thanks for the invitation. "No thanks necessary, I'm just glad you were able to make it. As I just informed Robert, we're still working on developing our signature cocktail menu, so feel free to order whatever you like, I'm sure they can make it."

Moving on to the man he doesn't know, Connor can't help but smile. It seems his advertisement plans were working, if even a little. He hefts his glass with the man as he makes his toast. "And to you as well, sir!" He takes another quick drink from his glass, enough to finish it, and places it on the bar. The Haunt steps up to the man and extends his hand, only now realizing just now how sever the height discrepancy is. "Connor O'Brien, I'm the owner. Are you enjoying your time so far sir?"

[Jennifer Hazelton]

Earlier in the evening Liam carefully used some SFX skill to apply latex to affix a skin colored contoured covering to Jennifer's left neck and shoulder.

A rented luxury sedan pulls to the curb, driven by her ghoul. Even now, she is cautious about showing her real liscense plates. Liam exits the car and offers Jennifer his hand to assist her from the car. The car departs as she strides confidently to the entrance. Autumn brown eyes glance about for a moment, as though searching for someone. She wears a high neck black satin couture gown, with an elegant drape. Peekaboo cut on the back is elegant and a touch of sexy. The left side of her neck and shoulder is covered with contrasting white silk dupioni, leaving her right side bare and exposed. A spider pin composed of precious stones of emerald and diamond holding two blooms of Blue Convolvulus flower. Jennifer holds a matching black clutch with white sparkles.

Jennifer steps inside of the establishment, her eyes taking in all of the little details. Her skin is blushed with life.

[Crystal]

Attending the grand opening of a new nightclub was great - and Crystal was actually surprised that Jennifer had asked him to join her. Seemed like the scholarly friendship could really be more than that. He took an Uber to the location - yeah, he had a car, but chances were he wasn't in any form to drive after that night. Besides, it was just money.

Wearing a marbled Alexander McQueen suit he was sure to at least get in, if not draw some welcome attention. Smoky nightclubs and gentlemen's establishments? Yes, sir!
Since he hadn't seen her outside, Crystal allowed himself to go in. And boy, was he in for a treat. First and foremost: this bar rocked. It had the right amount of classy and naughty and the Mastigos was already adding it to his list of 'preferable hunting grounds' - unless the owner cared for this toxic hetero-normative shit.

The other treat? Jennifer was looking to die for. Well, not literally of course. Crystal had to do a double take when he thought he recognized her. He quickly made his way over to her, putting on his nicest smile. "I always thought you were a dangerous one, but this is really ridiculous. I mean: wow!" And after miming a chef's kiss and giving her a silent applause, Chris offered Jennifer his arm. "Will you grant me the pleasure of your company?"
A bit too much? Maybe, but this was a special evening and Crystal was in the mood for a party.

[Colonel Worm]

How does Colonel Worm end up in a dark alley, standing in front of some nondescript black door, lowering his sunglasses (which he's still wearing after nightfall) to read a small placard out loud to himself: "Newt Duncree, huh?" He says with a look to the doorman. "What's it mean?"

To get the whole story, you'd have to go back about 48 hours, when he'd won his fight in some abandoned warehouse at the edge of town. And, therefore, a bunch of money he'd bet on himself with the resident bookie. But too much has happened between now and then.

The doorman corrects his pronunciation and then silently points at the translation (which also appears on the placard), looking annoyed.

"Oh, sweet," Worm says with a grin. Taking a drag off his cigarette. "What's the deal inside? Is it dark?" The doorman pointedly ignores him.

"Looks like I'll have to find out on my own-some, then," Worm continues, now firmly talking to himself. "Have a good night, my man." He stuffs a few bills in dude's breast pocket, blows a cloud of smoke up above their heads, and pitches his butt into the darkness.

The door is opened (however reluctantly) and the Colonel sweeps in, wearing an oversized, blue kimono top, cinched at the waist (no shirt underneath, of course), and a pair of nearly indescribable, olive-green pants. The look is topped off with a pair of classic Teva's and the aforementioned sunglasses.

First impression? The music is...not Worm's thing. But the vibe is not scuffed. And the crowd looks fun.

The Goblin descends upon the bar. First thing's first. Bellies up beside a Tiny fella who seems to be having fun. Leans in to make his ask of the 'tender: "Grey goose on the rocks? Keep the bottle close?" A wink. We're drinkin' fancy tonight, ladies and gentlemen.

The drink comes, Worm tips generously, and turns around to lean his back against the bar, nursing the beverage with great pleasure. Looking very relaxed. Taking everything in. The way he's leaning, his wide collar hangs open and the edge of a crude looking tattoo is visible just below his left collarbone. Just a few stick-and-poke lines. Maybe a butterfly wing?

Dude in the marble suit is cute. And Worm is wild about his lady-friend's gown. Irish beefcake down the bar is also easy on the eyes.

OK. It's a party. So Worm drinks.