Roleplaying
2004 Archive
2005 Archive
Seminars
| When: | 17 March 2004 |
| Who: | Bronwen, Christina, Faith, Galen, Gascogne, Genevieve, Inarin, Kacela, Loki (as Low Key Lyesmith, NPC), Nicodemus, Rufus, Tyrr, Willard |
| What: | A cheerful Low Key Lyesmith appears to illuminate St. Patrick's Day party-goers at an Irish pub about the identities of those responsible for the week's earlier soul-killings. |
Fado Irish Pub and Restaurant
Fado's has become a hotspot for many of the locals. The place is split between three different sections, the bar and tavern in one room, another room for the restaurant, and an outside patio area as an extension of the restaurant; all of which are no smoking. The owner, Tyrr Ceallaghan, opened Fado's two years ago and has advertised and made enough deals to watch it grow.
The bar and tavern room has a counter top bar where any of the patrons can sit and talk with the bartenders or their fellow patrons. Near the bar there are a few tables where anyone can sit with friends, share a drink, and just have a good time.
The restaurant and patio area is your classic walk in dine-in restaurant, with different celtic elements on the walls and in the way the rooms are built. The waitresses and waiters are dressed in all black, and always very courteous, as the owners insist on top quality customer service.
The atmosphere around Fado's is wild. With tents and fences extending out into the street for taps and other delights. Per the owner's insistance, there is NO GREEN BEER, but that may not stop someone from bringing in their own bottles of food coloring. Several events are currently taking place, less serious ones like the entry into a drawing for every time someone proposes a toast to U2, while more serious activities like a charity event for children affected with cystic fibrosis, including the shaving of the local rugby teams' hair, are going on in full swing. The hostesses and the bartenders are out in full force, the music's loud and jig-like, and cheers ring out joyously as everyone lets themself be Irish, just for one night, and hungover the next.
Bronwen works her way down the street with her rookie trainee McNab in tow. "Now, for the most part your time here is your own. If a fight breaks out, you can try handling it on your own, or come find me in Fado's," she says to her companion. "You can stay out here or you can brave the pub proper."
Christina is looking around rather nervously as of lately, even in familiar surroundings. Moreso than is usual for her. Her eyes are widened nearly to the state of panic, as she inspects everything, and occasionally cleans them on a rag she's carrying around. There are also a few small drops of blood on the rag, but these she tries to conceal. The spots on the side of her coat are less concealable. She paces back and forth in tight quick circles in an open spot in a corner by the door.
Already far back in the bar, Geneveive appears to be waiting for her turn at the dart board. Merrily humming to herself, she's all aflitter, before blinking some as she hears someone try to yell over the music to her. "My last name?" she asks, eyes slightly unfocused as she tries to make out the words while bopping along, the tailvanes of the darts sticking out of her hand. "Delancie! DE! Lan! CIE!"
Rufus just wouldn't be Rufus if he missed this opportunity. So much going on, and so little airtime, but what angle to take? A sensationalist bit about college students binge drinking would be pretty simple, but overdone, hardly any one would care;, and anybody can just do a mundane human interest, out on St Paddy's bit. He chews his pencil eraser as he ponders, and just watches the scene for now.
Genevieve is by the dartboard, trying to be heard over the fiddles and bouncing jig-music. "YEAH, it -IS- French! What do you MEAN it doesn't go with my shirt!? Meanie!" She turns to take her turn with the dart board, and then snaps her hands out to land one dart in the far outside 2 section, and the others in the 25 point outer edge of the bullseye.
Rufus orders a drink, and sits back. If an Idea comes, it comes. For now, he's just going to sit back, and let the world happen. He toasts the toast of the moment when his drink arrives, and downs it in short order.
Bronwen catches the tail-end of Genevieve's shouted meanie and simply shakes her head. "Anyhow, pick your poison, McNab. You have the crowds outside or the insanity of inside an Irish pub on Saint Patrick's Day," she loudly comments to the redhead following her as she enters Fado's proper.
The click of heels is utterly lost under the roar coming from the establishment. Kacela blinks some, the black woman humming to herself as she sizes up the fences and the tents and the crowds. "This could be tricky," she breathes out to herself, her thoughts ringing with the request to get more information regarding the bar owner. Quietly, she glances over her shoulder, the metallic cire of her party suit glinting succulently in the green-tinted lighting, as if waiting for others.
Rin needs to kill someone. The biggest Angel hideout he knows of is Fado's Irish Pub and Restaurant. Which is a shame, because he doesn't know for sure it's an Angel hideout. In one hand, he carries a cane and uses it to support his weight, in the other he seems to be reviewing a notepad, glancing down at it ever so often. He looks up, towards Kacela, and then sets his eyes on Genevieve over by the dartboard. Hum.
Rufus just hums along with the music, kicked back in his seat like he doesn't have a care in the world. He doesn't drink that much, compared to some, but he does manage to keep a mug in his hand at most times.
Willard approaches the restaurant, walking slowly by the sidewalk, hands inside his pockets, sweeping his eyes across the scene.
Upon reaching the crowd, he walks to the entrance of the bar, turning around a few times, apparently looking for known faces. When he sees Kacela, he nods almost imperceptively to her, looking into her eyes. He then stops in front of a nearby tent. Just waiting.
Faith is here, believe it or not. It took some convincing, but she finally managed to pry herself away from other business long enough to head down to Fado's pub. The crowds were almost enough to make her turn away again, but she's made of sterner stuff. It's not like she's unused to noise or large groups of people. She makes her way through the restaurant, waiting for a seat in a two-person booth in the back of the main dining area. She orders a drink--vodka, not beer, just to be contrary--and waits for the waitress to bring it. And then she starts crowd-watching, looking out for people she knows. Or, more importantly, suspicious people she doesn't know.
Gaelen slides into the bar. He smells vaguely of spray paint, but not too badly. He wanders over to a handy corner and takes up a looming position near one wall. He orders a pitcher of beer, neglects the mug and drinks straight form the pitcher. He watches the milling crowd with a mix of excitement, pleasure, and confusion.
Genevieve scrunches up her face, and then shakes her head to the slightly hard of hearing companion, before she says, "Game's yours!" She then bounces back towards the bar, emitting a few 'scuse me!'s to those she practically bonks into. "Kurrrrrr-gan! I love you!" she splays arms wide before leaping up onto counter. "Forgive me! I'll do a dance for you!"
The keep gives her a horrified look, the Guinness sloshing over the edges of the disposable plastic cups. "You're cleaning this place up," he rasps out to the energetic Genevieve.
"Awright! He's talking to me!!" At that point, her combat boots begin to clomp on the counter as she twirls about in a decent approximation of the Highland Fling.
Genevieve, complete with offensive t-shirt, is busy making a fool of herself in the bar. Those who are regulars know this is in fact common. At least she blends in tonight.
Christina blinks for a moment. There's a scent she knows. Breaking her pacing in the corner for persuit of someone... she seems to be tailing Gaelen, worming her way through the crowd. She smiles a bit when she sees Gen hop up... good, it wasn't permanent, whatever rumors she heard aren't true. The tenseness starts to flow out of her as she nears the bar.
'Rin chuckles. "Kurgan, Kurgan." He murmurs as he strides to Genevieve. He pokes at her foot with his cane and says softly, "Excuse me, madam? May I have a word with you?" He smiles at Genevieve. A nice smile. Guy wouldn't harm a bugger in the world.
Kacela narrows her eyes as the louder people pipe up. She weaves through the bar, making the rounds. A few faces spark recognition, and she paces up towards Faith, giving her a sharp nod and then gesturing towards Gaelen's sulking spot on the wall. The black woman doesn't appear to be even BOTHERING trying to speak right now. She looks around, appearing a bit nervous, before she perks up at seeing the back of Willard's head.
The waitress returns with a shotglass, though she seems a little puzzled as to why Faith hasn't ordered beer, instead. The woman doesn't answer, turning her eyes back to crowd-watching. She picks out Gaelen at the bar, though the green hair and shirt are definitely new additions. Is that /spraypaint/ she smells? Kacela's next to be noticed, and she returns her nod with a nod of her own. She takes a sip of her drink before Genevieve's act catches her eye... is this sort of thing /normal/ on Saint Patrick's Day? This is gonna be a long night.
Bronwen manouevres her way through the crowd towards the bar as well. "Evening, Kurgan!" she shouts, also offering the dancing Genevieve a wave. "I'll take some Harps when you get the chance." Her rookie seems to have decided to hang out closer to the main door of the pub. The fact that there are a number of cute young women there may or may not have played a part in his decision.
The creeping forth of Christina catches Geneveive's attention, and she plants hands upon her hips, pouting out her lower lip, teal glitter and all, as she peruses the other female. "That's no way to celebrate!" She hops off the counter, and clatters down, batting her eyes at Inarin. "Uh, who are you? Are you going to ask me if I have some Irish in me and do I want some? Just a sec..." She turns around, and reaches out to prod at Christina. "Get something to drink, at least."
Willard enters the bar, doing his best to pretend he loves "St Patsy" or whatever celebration, smiling at and greeting random people while searching through tables for familiar people. After wandering for a while, he finds Faith sitting with her vodka. He sits with on the empty chair, saying with his best sarcastic face. "You don't mind it? Do you?"
The door slams open, sending the poor 'bouncer' flying backwards as the door slams into his shoulder and causes him to land flat on his ass. "Hello! Hello! Let the rejoicing begin, for the Irish have have to bing! Let all partake of the beer, for all to laugh at us in our drunken cheer!" The unnamed man moves to the bar, with little car for any man in his way, though any mortal woman who happens to have the slightest 'look' about her gets a sly smile and a wink, "Barkeep! A round for the entire pub! Something to get us firmly wasted!"
Gascogne sits at a private booth, sipping her silly green beer, minding her silly little business. On her napkin, she keeps tally of how many times she's been hit on in three columns. Not Drunk, Sorta Drunk, and Very Drunk.
'Rin murmurs, "Ah, no. Not exactly. I'm sorry," He glances over his shoulder, "But this is-", he doesn't seem surprised at the falling of asses, "Excuse me, it's sort of private, and it's hard for me to hear in this pub... Could we go outside for a moment? I won't be long.", something seems to dawn of him, "And no, it is not something vulgar, I promise." A worried look enters his eyes as he glances to the 'unnamed man'.
Faith takes another sip, scowling at circumstances in general. She looks up as Willard approaches her, recognizing him. "I don't mind you," she says. "I mind the party. A little." Mainly the people who're treating this as an excuse to relieve themselves of their self-control via alcohol. Or not. Faith doesn't bother to distinguish between those who're too much into the beer, and those who're just having fun. She nods at Willard as he sits down. And then the door flies open. "And another one. They're having too much fun." She watches the newcomer, though, and she starts idly rubbing the ring on her right hand. Not easy to notice, though.
Christina looks confused and a little lost for a moment, not expecting Gen to suddenly hop back down. "Huhwha?" she offers in reply, "Oh no thanks, I don't drink strangely enough, except for like coffee and stuff this place has the best coffee, have you tried it, and aren't you that sidewalk artist I love your stuff and I just needed a place to stay for a bit and it's pretty safe here." And then she pauses to inhale, looking around at the crowd again, "At least it usually is, I don't recognize a lot of these people but I ran into a spot of trouble the other day so I'm being careful now," as she moves towards Gaelen, "and you can get spraypaint stains out with lemon airfreshener spray. The aerosol dissolves the paint base and then it washes right out." And she melts back towards Gen again.
Gaelen blinks as the wave of chatter washes over him, leaving him stranded on a sandbar of confusion.
Kacela still hovers near the seating between Willard and Faith, smirking slightly. "Seen any tall blondes about, mmm?" She rests one hand on their table, affording herself the chance to peer around. However, as the boisterous man busts through the door, she practically recoils, "Not him. Taller." Her eyes are practically glazed over, as she blinks over towards Gaelen and the figure that approaches him.
Genevieve hrns and considers for a moment. "Okay, you can hang out, we can help exercise the dogs in the kennels by running back and forth across the..." She pauses again, eyes wide, as she stares at Inarin. "Who are you? How can you know me good enough to want to talk to me privately?" She seems very confused, before she HEYS as Christina flits off, "Gee, and people were complaining about me bad, well you go mingle some more and I'll go talk to Kurgan.
Bronwen offers Kurgan a salute as her pint of Harps is slid down towards her position. "Are you drinking tonight, Genevieve, or does the party atmosphere itself have you all revved up?" Christina's fast-paced speech has the female cop entranced for a few moments before she shakes her head. "Talk about controlled use of breath."
Genevieve flits back over and chirps out, sitting ramrod straight on her seat. "Kurgy wurgy gimme a non-alcoholy daquiri!" She giggles some, as if taking extreme pleasure at annoying the man, before she blinks back towards Inarin. "Tell me why, tell me why!" She yells back to Bronwen. "No point for me to drink. Metabolism and all..."
Gaelen gets his pitcher refilled, then meanders over to the table with Kacela, Willard, and Faith. He moves with utmost caution so he only causes some minor stubbed toes and bruised ribs as he crosses the room. He sits with his back to the crowd at their table. "HEY!" he yells over the music.
Kacela remains standing, and crosses arms, drumming fingers on her upper arm. "Can you believe that, the crazy fellow just bought us a round. Well, I suppose I should take advantage..." She begins to slink towards the bar, the metallic turquoise lame pantsuit clinging to her form. "Are you for real?" she asks directly of the grinning blond guy.
'Rin says, "Oh, it's not so much about you, but we have met before, which is why I've come to you. I'm a little desperate right now." He murmurs quietly, "It won't take much time." He glances briefly at Christina before looking to Genevieve with a pitiful look. He's not going to go -directly- after Tyrr, after all.
Blink. Faith can only watch as others start to congregate near her location. Willard was okay. Here, they're just turning into a target. Or what feels like a target. She just nods. "Nope." Mercifully, Kacela leaves in short order. Only to be replaced by Galen. Faith downs the rest of her drink, and nods lamely in response to him. So many people, and now this new guy. Best to leave him to the people who can deal with him. Faith could, honest--she just doesn't want to right now. Right?
"Hoo boy, I'm getting all the charity cases tonight," Geneveive says smugly, swinging her arms in the air. "It must be the shirt," she chirps out. "Maybe we should set up an appointment?" she keeps stalling, perhaps intent on staying in the bar. However, a moment passes, and she then bahs. "Just be quick, and not too far outside, I don't wanna pay ten dollars again for the cover!" She stands up, and begins to buzz towards the door, humming.
"Maybe asking for a green daiquiri wouldn't be stretching it... or not talking to him like he's a fool," Bronwen muses and glances towards the door and where 'her' rookie is. "The man's busy enough, eh? 'Course he might fob it off on someone else to make."
The masses are celebrating St. Patrick's Day the way they always do, with songs, green beer, Guinness, and general rowdiness...and some how, Nicholas Lyman deems himself apart of the festivities. Walking down from his office, the only thing green on his person being his emerald cuff links, he appears at the Fado's entrance. He greets the working class with a pleasant smile, having just come from the first round of negotiations with a certain trade union. Things are looking up for reduced benefits. In the crowd, the industrialist picks up familiar faces, those referred to him by Kacela and Dupont security footage. He will meet them in time, but first...the social worker.
The man who busted through the door smiles wide as he jumps up onto a stool then steps up onto the bar top. "My Fine Ladies and Poor Fellows, your attention! For I have a proclamation for all to hear, from my place up here!" The man outstretches his hands and snaps his left fingers... the music switching to Great Big Sea's 'Kiss My Irish Ass', which promptly allows the man to do a little jig, knocking glasses about. "My humble self, Low Key Lyesmith, have a testament to proclaim to the masses. For I witnessed a horrid occurance not more than a few nights ago and feel I can no longer hide it as I see the faces responsible tonight..." As Low Key starts upon his words, Kurgan is glaring at this man, reaching back for the can of mace behind the bar preparing to pepper him and drag him out back. But this doesn't stop Low Key, as he continues, "I see tonight the face of the killers of the Cop and the Cutie. For they are now among you!" Reaching out a hand to point to Christina, "A Cop Killer Amongst Us!" then he points toward Rufus, "And worst of all, striking down a cutie like that girl, is this killer!!!"
Gaelen moves quickly to block the door.
Rufus eyenarrows, looking up at the bizarre man with an incredulous expression. He pauses, mug partway to his lips, before he sets it down on the table, and says, an a low, calm tone, " Buddy, I think you've had too much. In honor of the day, I'll let it slide, but that .... Ain't funny. ", snorting and turning away.
Christina giggles a bit... who needs booze to have a good time in a room that's already full of drunk people? And then someone grabs her arm. Her eyes jerk paniced again and she spins suddenly, palm arcing forward- she stops and pulls her arm back, it's not who she was expecting. "Sorry! Wha? Darts? Oh, I dunno, I haven't really used darts a whole lot but it can't be too different from what I'm used to so I guess I'll give it a shot if you really want, are we playing for points or closest to center or whatever else you come up with and-" Inhale. Wait WHAT did he just say she did? She jerks her head sharply towards her accuser, wordless for the moment though the Wheel's wheels are definitely spinning in her head. Which makes them like, bajilliafast. "See, now this is why I don't drink," she murmurs to Gen as she steps away from the guys at the dartboard.
Gaelen steps outside the door.
"Too much he says?" Low Key smiles, with a dark twist to his face that shows he's not had an ounce of alcohol tonight. "I think not, Cop Killer. I think not. You and the other one should both be burned at the stakes for your crimes." That jovial tone to his earlier comments, is completely gone. As he jumps down, "And I shall be bringing my witness report to the police for both of you to rot in jail."
Willard leans against his chair and puts his arms over the table, staring at the man over the bar. He raises an eyebrow as the man points the murderers. Even tough he's ready to run away just in case, he grins, for things are getting interesting here.
Faith blinks again. What. Her right hand clenches into a fist, and she shields it with her left. As Low Key points at two people in the crowd, she blinks again, her eyes widening, than narrowing to slits. What the Hell is going on here? She's silent for now, though she's wondering if these two are going to go quietly. ...And then there's the orders. Sigh.
"Wait, wait, back up here a moment," Bronwen growls and moves closer towards Christina. "McNab, watch the other guy the blond accused. And let's start to get this story straight, y'hear?" Her voice drops as she gets close enough to Christina to not shout. "You a friend of Genevieve's?"
Manoeuvring through the crowd in hopes of locating Kacela, the industrialist is hampered by the antics of the mouthpiece. At first this Low Key facilities Lyman's entry, by clearing a line to the bar, but causes people to stop dead when he climbs up onto the bar and makes his accusation. Lyman might take some irritation in the resistance of the crowd, if he were not among the patrons that pause to regard the man. His smile fading instantly, Lyman looks between Low Key and Christina, something most dire on his facial features.
A few rippled boos move through the crowd at the revelation. The more disbelieving throw their half-filled cups at Low Key, sending splashes of foam and amber liquid his way. However, doubt and that niggling 'what if' in people's minds. A few beeps from activating cell phones dialing 911 can be heard, and a screech of the bow upon the fiddlestrings from the live band sounds out as the group grinds to a halt. People press close, as if trying to decide for themselves, forming a wall around Rufus and Christina.
*SMASH!* The quiet lady sitting in the back just dropped her glass, it would seem. Or maybe Gascogne just flicked it off the edge of the table. Rising elegantly, she straightens her coat, "Vell, zhis is getting a little intense, no? I do zhink ve came here for a good time, all of us. Maybe zhis is not the best vay to announce such intentions, Monsieur." Her eyes settle upon Low Key calmly. "But... no one has asked me, and I am feeling... tipsy. Maybe I should just keep my mouzh shut and duck out."
Rufus's knuckles are turning white from how he's clenched his fist around the mug. "Look, pal, That what you're doin' is slander, and I don't gotta stand for it...I don't even know WHAT you're talking about, I just got back myself. Now, either calm down, maybe have another drink, maybe not, I don't give a sh**.", his voice lowers, "But watch who you make stories up about. Some people don't like it. "
Christina blinks as Bronwen starts approaching. Oh boy this is so not going to be fun. Her wide-eyed panicky expression probably isn't helping much. She forces a nervous frown, "I like to think so, ma'am. But she hasn't really ever come up and said, 'Hi we're friends and I think we should have a giant party somewhere' or anything like that..."
Low Key stays atop the bar top for the moment and looks toward Breanna, "Detective York, I do think this Cop Killing Fiend has just threatened me." Reaching toward his chest, Low Key looks at the crowd, "I see at least some of our good patrons have the sense to call the police. Who will undoubtedly whisk all three of us away. But I doubt highly they'll take kindly to you, sir, for killing a cop is most heinous." And with that, Low Key jumps down, and pushes his way toward Breanna, knowing or guessing that Rufus will likely snap.
Finally catching the gaze from Mr. Lyman the Fourth, Kacela arches a brow, and tries to weave through, trying her best to not catch the edges of the diamond cut patterns of the outfit along her belly and thighs. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me," she hisses out to herself as the crowd freezes up. She purses lips, and shakes her head, raising a hand in the air to wave a dismissive, 'I give up' wave towards Nicodemus. Gaelen's motion earns him an appreciative glance from the woman.
Rufus stands up, red-faced, and, sadly, it seems, very predictable. " You better shut your noise, or I'll....", he hesitates, going even redder as the twip just ignores him, " You sunnuva.... RRRRRGH!", the last grunt of frustrated rage comes when he hurls his empty mug directly at the little bigmouth, ready to quiet him the old fashioned way.
Roll by Rufus: (5) (1) (4)
"Will you trust me to check something?" Bronwen asks, her attention fully focused on the jumpy girl before shifting it out to the loudmouthed patron. "Buddy, I *am* a cop. And how do you know my name, hmm?" By now McNab has managed to inch his way closer to Rufus' position if nervously.
Gascogne weaves through the crowd, hands in her pockets, making her way toward the door. Things are about to turn nasty, and she certainly does not feel like getting caught in a crossfire or being interrogated by police.
Genevieve raises a hand to the back of her head, and then looks towards Christina, emitting a faint 'eh heh' as Bronwen approaches. "I don't know her that well!" she blurts out, "I've not seen anything criminal or violent out of her, though! She needs help though right now, and I don't think it has anything to do with this current mess!" She wrinkles her nose, and whines some. "I didn't even get to go around and kiss all the bald people on the head yet with my lip gloss!"
Roll by Loki: (2) (3) (4)
Lyman maintains his silence and pushes through the crowd toward Christina, having little interest in deconstructing Low Key's accusations. Regardless of their validity, there is significance in his directing them toward Christina. There is always some truth in lies. With Bronwen arriving on the scene, the industrialists looms close by, waiting in the background on ever word. For a moment, a weighty, almost predatory stare is fixed to Christina, evaluating, calculating...
Christina takes a half-step away from Bronwen, shivering for a moment as one eye narrows suspiciously. "Uuuuh... Depends... what are you going to do?"
Bronwen reaches out to lightly touch the girl on her shoulder and narrows both eyes on her being. "You needed do anything on your part, young one," she murmurs and attempts a light contact with the Symphony.
Roll by Bronwen: (4) (1) (3)
Low Key's quick enough to avoid the tossed mug, pushing himself through the crowd... giving any stray mortal female in his path a quick pinch on the behind as he nears Breanna. "With luck, the quite dead sexy Detective will arrest you and the ruffian who decided to toss his damn mug at me. And your name is a matter of knowledge in parts of this city, as is your friend. I have a few friends high up on the ladder in the police force, friends whom I shall be talking to tonight I expect, over my eye witness testimony."
'Rin looks towards Low Key Lyesmith, looks towards Christina, and then to Rufus. "...." He doesn't seem to be buying 'the man's' words. He says, "What a day," he murmurs. He gives a glance to Nicodemus briefly before heading for Christina and Genevieve. He reaches for Genevieve's arm and says, "Whomever is innocent or guilty, there is clearly a dangerous criminal here. The authorities are likely on their way, we should make room for them." His grip isn't tight or anything, it's light, and 'comforting'. At least, that's the intent. It might not be so comforting despite the soft manner of the touch.
Roll by Inarin: (1) (1) (2)
Roll by Genevieve: (2) (5) (1)
Rufus starts to advance on Mr. Personality, but is stopped short by the handlestrap of his bag, wrapped purposefully round his leg when he sat down. This brings him back down to earth a bit, and buys him time to think. "I don't know who you are, pal, but this ain't been the best week. So I'm telling you, pipe down it's not just me you'll have to worry about, yer killing the crowd's vibe. ", and just glowers for now, trying to bite back his temper. BUT, he does untangle his leg from the camera bag....
The scene at the bar is starting to get violent, but Faith remains dispassionate, if more than slightly annoyed at this whole display. She keeps a weather eye on Kacela as she starts making her way through the crowd, still keeping her right hand shielded with her left. Well, if these people /are/ the ones she's looking for, it's a good thing Gaelen's guarding the door. Wouldn't want them escaping, after all. And now it's not /as/ violent. But Faith's still watching. Oh, yes, she's watching.
Christina's eyes widen and she jerks back VERY quickly as Bronwen reaches out for her. "Errr... no touching please!" She gives a faint twitch and then a longer shiver, before carefully leaning in to whisper to Bronwen, wary of other attempts. Her eyes dart side to side as she speaks.
In between his sizing up of Christina, Lyman looks to the band, his gaze drifting off through the crowd. As he doe so, he catches sight of the marooned Kacela. Normally, her very presence would evoke a devious smile from him, but not in these strange circumstances it would seem. His lips keep to a stern line. With a solid step into the tide of people, Lyman offers a hand to pull Kacela through. He gestures dismissively, even irritably at those around her, "If you'll excuse me, a lady is trying to pass."
Kacela casts a glance over her shoulder as she hears the smooth words of Lyman, "Appreciated as always, Nicholas, but not fast enough," she states coolly, trying to suppress the whetted excitation of pursuit that's dripped her form. "Mister... Low Key, I think you may have missed one..." Her hand balls up, knuckles lightening slightly in color, perhaps intended to deck him.
Genevieve looks helplessly between Christina, Inarin, and Bronwen. "But, but..." She seems to relax some when she sees Christina begin to confide in Bronwen, and nods. "Okay, lead the way. Seriously, though, can't you just tell me a hint or something about what this is?"
Loki gets caught up in the crowd, quite a crowd indeed for a night such as this in a Irish Pub. "Breanna! Mark my words, these are your killers! The Cop and the Cutie fell at the hands of these two! One could count the girl for a heavenly act for killing that corrupt cop... but it was purely satanic to kill that cop!!!" Loki's in the crowd enough that he uses the Ethereal Song of Light to leave an image of himself as he changes down into the form of a rat and disappears carefully through the crowd to a crack in the wall. For anyone looking, including those nearby, the Light Construct of Loki remains there, moving about somewhat for a moment before 'feigning' falling to the ground. If the disturbance from the song didn't alert you, then the definite lack of a body on the ground as Loki falls is hint enough that he's gone.
Roll by Inarin: (6) (6) (1)
Rufus snarls at the last of the show, but something seeps into that festering, TV-and-Violence addled brain of his...' What was this guy talking abou-... Wait a minute...,' Ladies and gentlemen, he may actually be having an idea.... He puzzles over what he's trying to digest, sitting back down quietly, and casting curious glances at the woman he pointed out.
Roll by Christina: (6) (1) (1)
Roll by Willard: (4) (5) (5)
Roll by Rufus: (4) (1) (4)
Roll by Genevieve: (2) (3) (3)
Roll by Bronwen: (5) (3) (3)
"You wouldn't have had to worry about anyone if I didn't find your actions commendable," Bronwen murmurs back. She shifts her attention back to Big Mouth and his crowd-rousing words to find him... being more odd than before. "Like we need more vultures in this city."
Lyman is still bent on linger by Christina and the inquiring detective. But his keying on their conversation is against broken, as his gaze drifts into the crowd toward Low Key. No, Lyman has not forgotten the mouthpiece, but he concedes at nod to Kacela, "Yes. I haven't forgotten him." His voice drops a level, as he every so slightly motions with a shoulder toward Christina, "The accused...she is most peculiar. A will to fight, most definitely...for what, I can't be sure."
Roll by Nicodemus: (3) (4) (2)
Rufus decides he needs some air, and this isn't going to be a safe place to be in a minute or two. He passes money to a surprised looking waitress, gathers up his bag, and heads for the door, still muttering to himself.
Kacela's fist snaps towards Low Key, perhaps in an attempt to deck him and keep him from escaping. However, the disturbance from the song rings out, and before her eyes, she sees her hand move through the figure. "What the..." She doesn't have time to ponder TOO much, since her fist then connects solidly with the person on the other side of the retreating figure. She bats her eyes, mouth open, before turning back towards Lyman. "Did you see that?" She scowls some, before shaking out her hand. "Sorry," she mutters to herself.
'Rin says, "I won't do anything vicious, I just need to ask a question," It's a lie, but he knows there are demons in here, and he really doesn't want to get them on his case...due to where his suspicion is heading. He isn't sure if angels are responsible for it at all, not exactly. "About the killings. Not seeking vengeance," he will lead Genevieve outside. Gunshots do not follow.
Genevieve blinks as the black chick punches a person. Hard. However, Inarin's insistance catches her attention, and she steps outside. No screams, no molestation. In fact, she's likely to return to her glib celebration soon afterwards.
Faith blinks. In the next moment, she's out of her chair, picking her way through the crowd toward the bar. She tries to find the loud guy, and succeeds, but there's Kacela. Stupid crowd, impeding her observations. But now that she's got bigger problems to deal with, Faith starts to head toward Kacela. A brief glance toward the door--is Gaelen still blocking it?--and she turns back toward the other woman just in time to see her punch /through/ the guy. Blink. That's definitely not normal. She pauses when she's a table or so away from the two, and just stands there. Were they talking, or something?
Christina blinks for a minute at Bronwen. "...you find my... wait, I didn't tell you anything about... you ARE another..." And she starts to back up a bit more quickly now, cornered up against the edge of the bar and sliding sideways along it towards the open again, eyes wide and fixed at the detective. Her arms reach behind her back, fingertips of the right hand dipping inside the left sleeve.
Gaelen wanders back into the bar and seeks out a table, drinking whatever beers he finds there. He watches the crowd attempt to get the party back into full swing.
Those cell phone calls do eventually bring the police. The first two squad cars pull up, and the officers speak with the rookie that Bronwen had posted by the door. They begin talking briskly, and fan out between the party-goers, collecting information on the light haired man, be it contact information, descriptions, and motivations.
Willard watches as Faith leaves the table. He smiles and says to himself, ironnically "I hate this kind of people, you never know if they tell the truth." He stands up, following Faith from a distance, finding Kacela with Mr Lyman. Willard nods at them both, and asks. "Interesting Celebration, uh?" As the police arrives, he completes his sentence "More illustrious guests..."
The person that Kacela punched seems to take some exception to her swing, but doesn't do much other than gurgle out in a slur, "Hgughey, schlee lihikzzzz meee!" She raises her hands, and spins back towards Willard, "Augh, get them away. I came here to find the owner, you'd think he'd be here tonight of all nights..." her eyes snap in mild irritation, before she re-adjusts the clingy metallic fabric of her outfit, and fixes Lyman with a winning smile. "And no pinches either, me being greenless and all." She snaps her mouth shut at the mention of police, knowing full well what she cannot, will not, tell them.
Bronwen simply shakes her head at Christina's jumbled words. "You have nothing to fear from me, youngling," she replies before turning back towards the bar and the other officers in it with a sigh. "So much for an Irish celebration." Her nearly full glass of Harps goes back on the bar as duty lays over her shoulders once again.
Christina's fingers start to pull back from her sleeve... there's a brief glint of steel... but she pushes it back in as she regards Bronwen, hands coming free again as her arms fall to her side. She sighs, and shakes her head. "It's been a long couple of days. I'm sorry."
Grumbling at what he gets from vague conversation between Christina and Bronwen, Lyman turns to find that Kacela's pursuit of Low Key also fails. "Let's call it a night, my dear," he suggests with a sigh. He then starts for the door.
A few of the police officers seem more than just a little familiar with Nicodemus, and part before him. A pair emerge beside Bronwen and Christina. A few get wolf whistles from the more inebriated females, and all are having to do their best to politely decline the numerous, and generous, offers of ale and spirits. "Are you familiar with your accuser? Have you ever seen him before?" make up the bulk of their inquiry.
Willard raises his hand in a motion to call Lyman's attention, speanking in an "I'm heeeere" tone. "Mr...Lyman?"
Faith tries to sidle up to Kacela--or tries to get as close as she can, crowd considered. "Nothing," she says. "Where did he go?" That was definitely an illusion, and one that made noise. She clears her throat, looking at Lyman. She says nothing more, assuming that'll at least get his attention. ...In addition to what Willard's doing back there.
Kacela practically skates over towards Lyman, like a huntress returning to her falconer. However, she catches Faith's question, and pauses a few feet away from the businessman, squinting some to the cops, but happy enough to have them stay away. "You saw correctly," she states quietly. "Any devices that you are aware of that could accomplish that? Relics maybe?" She keeps her space, allowing Willard to have a word with Nicholas, eyes sharp for the body language between the two.
hristina shakes her head to the inquiry, "I don't think I've seen him before. I definitely don't recognize him... But he... I don't know how he got out, or I would have chased him for you."
Bronwen cocks her head slightly to one side. "How he got out? You say you don't recognize him, but it almost sounds as if you do?" she shakes her head at the other two officers. "And don't worry about it. Stress is deadly to one's inner balance. Were you guys able to find anything helpful in the crowd?"
The officers shrug helplessly. "The descriptions match, but no one recognizes him. Did he touch anything? We can try for prints, maybe, but won't do any good if he doesn't have a criminal record. May have just been the booze talkin'," one or the other says, glancing around the crowd as it begins to pick up again.
Christina bites her lip a little. "I'm pretty sure what he is, without knowing the who. Enough to know I'm supposed to chase him and see where he leads me... If I see him again, I'll report back to you, okay?"
On his way out, Lyman raises an apologetic hand to Willard. He can't talk now, but he'll take Willard's contact information before he leaves.
A nod is tossed towards Christina. "You should contact us. Please do not put yourself in danger", the younger of the two insists.
"Could've been," Faith states. Now that she's got her observations straightened out, she's tackling the problem. "Could've been a Song." Her tone is hushed; her mode of speech is clipped and terse. "Couldn't tell. Or be certain he'd found the right people. This doesn't feel right." To say the absolute least. She scowls. "Either way, we're going to find him. We're going to find him, and we're going to find the truth."
Kacela tchs quietly to herself as yet another call tears Nicholas away. She mm-hmms toward Faith, her attention still on the door. "The patterns were... a bit off, wouldn't you say? I've not heard any descriptions of vessels like that before, perhaps he's from the other side? Their quality control hasn't been doing so well," she says smugly. "I would positively hate for the Game to involve themselves, it would behoove us to ferret out the solution ourselves!" The last carries with it a tone of warning. "I suspect he'll take care of HIMSELF, though, when it comes to showing up again. With a mouth like that, the braggart is sure to do so again. And eventually... slip up."
"I think that would be the safest thing for you to do, miss," Bronwen replies before turning back towards the head barkeep. "Shall we get the party back on track, Kurgan?"
Willard listens to both Kacela and Faith, nodding to their words. "For today, I think it's all done. You two have my phone, call me when necessary." He proceeds to talk to any available cop, just for the basic cooperation, if any is necessary before leaving.
Christina gulps and nods. "I need some coffee to calm me down. This is terribly upsetting." She slumps down onto the stool and stares up at the ceiling for a moment, twiddling her thumbs. "I got something bothering me I want to talk to you about, but... not in present company. Especially not now. Things are still too weird. But he might come back again... I'm surprised he hasn't..."
For a moment, Faith considers getting another drink, but decides against it. Needs to keep her wits about her, after all, and there's no sense in pushing her alcohol tolerance here. Her eyes narrow again at the mention of the Game, and her next words are hissed: "Right. They said to find them. Owner wasn't here... the other one you mentioned?" She nods to Willard as he leaves; she'll have to talk to him on general principles. And catch up with Lyman, who is now gone. Rats. "He'll slip up," she murmurs. "The blind ones always do. Anything more?" she asks."
Kacela goves a helpless shrug towards Faith. "Mister Meyer had the key to that one, he had interacted with her and knew what her description was." A faint laugh comes from her, as she agrees with Faith. "It some times makes me sad that they're not more difficult to deal with," she muses quietly. "I think I am done with this place tonight. I would like to keep my pinch-free record intact, if at all possible. You can go as you wish." The last was intended to emphasize that Faith had always been free to come and go, but it probably came out as anything but.
"The same," Faith says. She's slipped back into that calm, pensive state again, and starts making her way through the crowd toward the exit. She's careful to avoid any police; she wants to get back and file that report with a minimum of disturbance. Normal or otherwise.
Bronwen flags down one of Kurgan's assistants of the evening and orders Christina a plain, non-alcoholic coffee. "Sure. You can usually find me here if I'm not at Central," she responds with a nod. "Ask for Detective York. I've got voicemail but I only return the non-pestering type of calls. Basically any non-reporters whenever I can avoid them." The last is said with a faint grin as the party in the pub resumes to its full swing, if slightly subdued in comparison to before.
Kacela casts one last look over the bar, contents and all, and withdraws to the eastern side of the city and its decidedly less Saint Patrick's oriented clientele.
Gaelen decides that he's swilled enough beer to float a small seacraft and stumbles out the door.
Christina shakes her head a little. "I don't know to what lengths they'll go... but if you're not a Stalker, then..." She smiles a little, "Then that means something else. I'll probably need your help to get this guy off me."
"I wouldn't be one of those spawn. But have a good remainder of the evening, miss. Kurgan will more than likely keep an eye out for you, and he's trustworthy as well, whether you're inclined to believe me or not," Bronwen says, flagging down her redhaired rookie. "But for now, I must depart. Come on, McNab, time to get you home before your primary supervisor decides to take a strip off of my hide."
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