"Wow," said Nathan, taking the glass and inhaling the whiskey's aroma. "That's a damn good price." He dug into his pockets, and pulled out a ten dollar bill.
"Keep the change," he said, sliding the note over the bar with one hand while swirling the glass with the other. "How long you worked here, man?" asked the dragon, making conversation as he sipped some of the whiskey, savouring the fire.
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Sam looked at the bill with disbelief but snatched it away enthusiastically.
It'd been a long time since someone had told him to keep the change.
The barman was practically welling up.
"Well, sir," he started, keeping in mind the lessons reluctantly instilled into him by his new boss, "not long really. Been part of the fre....ehold for a couple of years now," he added openly looking around at the empty bar, quickly changing freakshow to something that could possibly end with more tips.
Well, Christmas was coming, and Sam needed a new shirt.
"And yourself? Ain't seen you around?"
"Well," growled Nathan, willing to try and pump the barman for information, but not especially willing to let that minor insult slide. "A couple of months since I, um... arrived here." He took another sip of whiskey pensively. "That's why I'm meeting your boss, to help get me up to speed on the happenings around here. Anything you'd know of?"
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Sam was about to reply but a figure entered the bar, quite tall, very thin and so straight backed it looked like someone had shoved a broom up his ass.
Which they might have done seeing as he appeard to have a moustache that actually appeared to be a broom head. It ever twitched as the man looked at the barman, whoh quickly slinked away to get on with something completely different.
Mr. Bates, dressed in a clean brown suit, bright white shirt under the jacket and brown tie, returned his gaze to Nathan.
"Mr. Fang, I presume? I am Mr. Bates, manager of the Four Seasons." He doesn't extend a hand, both of which are clasped at his lower back.
Mr. Bates, Wizened, Chatelaine/Drudge, Mantle (Autumn) 2
"Yes, Fang. Nathan Fang," he said with a wide grin. "How are you?" At this point he did extend his arm to be shaken.
"I saw your notice, so... here I am."
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Mr. Bates looked at the hand almost as if it was covered in vomit and flies, but shakes it anyway, his grip neither firm nor limp. Once released, he places his hand back where it was and even avoids wiping it on his jacket.
"Ah, yes. You attended at our most recent gathering, I believe? Well, welcome to Sacramento, Mr. Fang. Is there anything I could help you with?"
Mason finally decided it was time to get his act together and stop being such a loner. He had been in the Freehold a decent while now, but he still didn't really know anyone...much less make general contact with his...kind. That was still weird to say, even after all of this time.
He had seen posters up around directing him to a Mr. Bates at the Four Seasons hotel. He had nothing else meaningful to do today, so this was about all there was in terms of activities to be had.
Mason entered the hotel and walked up to the front desk. He tapped lightly on the counter in order to get the clerk's attention and raised his notebook, which had a statement already written inside of it, Hi, my name is Mason Rhodes, I'm here to see Mr. Bates.
OOC
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Behind the reception desk, Michael looked at the proffered note with some confusion yet kept the polite smile upon his face. Picking up a pen, he scribbled a hasty reply.
Do you have trouble hearing, sir?
Mason looked visibly annoyed. This wasn't the first time someone was just going to assume he was deaf, and it wouldn't be the last. He supposed he would just have to get used to it. He turned his notebook around and scribbled down a response.
When he was done, he turned the notebook around. It said, No, I can hear just fine. I just can't speak. As in literally unable to.
He stood there patiently, waiting for the next stage of this series of events to happen. Generally, the person would either apologize immediately, or just smile and go on with their lives.
Though the second was ruder, it was also faster, and it was what he was hoping for.
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Michael read the note, a flush of red touching his cheeks. He hid it well.
"Of course, sir. Mr. Bates is just in a meeting. If you would follow me," he says, moving around from the desk and leading Mason through to the restaurant were the bar is also situated. There, Mason can see the two other fae conversing.
Michael moves ahead, taking a pace or two ahead of the Ogre and whispers to the manager. Mr. Bates turns to face Mason before sending Michael away with a simple nod.
"Mr. Rhodes? My, it has been a while," the Wizened says. "Please, join us. This is Mr. Nathan Fang. Mr. Fang, Mason Rhodes."
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