Sibling

Steve had yet to pick up the menu, and didn't appear about to, leaving his hands folded on the table. His gaze was steady, watching Falcon's expressions and listening closely when she spoke, as though there were little else in the room to care about. His right hand would wander now and again to the pocket where he kept his watch, a nervous habit.

"Miss Falcon, I will ha' what I usually do. Since I came back, I find tha' few things sit well wi' me and stay well to wha' I know. 'Tis a shame I thin', many say tha' Miss Gal is a cook wi' a talent." He smiled, enjoying the chance to sit and speak with Falcon, and realizing, for the first time, she might actually be comfortable with his presence.

Still unsure of his powers, his appearance and his place here, Steve knew that some, like Gal or Narshawn, would deal with him because they too were physically different. An eight foot tall African, and a four foot tall ice woman? Even in his day, those would have been freaks, like a steam-red man with glowing blue eyes.

When first Martin had brought him to this table, and he had seen that his table guest would be an elegant woman of means, he had felt very obviously like a thing on display. A curiosity. She had excused all his obvious differences, not paying attention to what was odd. Oh, he had seen glimpses of her inner personality, a natural intensity, wild nature hidden beneath a well mannered exterior, but this woman truly seemed to accept him as a person.

He sighed softly and relaxed almost imperceptably in the chair. So much had changed in this time.

"Miss Kitiara," he had seemed unsure which of her names to use, but never failed to use the young and most proper "Miss", "If you would pardon me for sayin' so, they could serve me stones an' leather an' I would thin' it a king's feast. Your company would make it so."

Steve wondered if they had dances, in this day. Proper, partnered dances that a man could rightly ask a woman to with decency. He had heard about some Dance Party, but from what he had heard, that was far too intimate for a man trying to make a good impression with a lady. He would ask Miss Gal, he decided.

"An' you, mi'lady, what would please you?" He asked as Gertrude came within sight.

((OOC: Steve is a traditionalist from the 1900's, early, so his manners are very slow about women. Falcon, even though the thread is being suspended for the day, I wait for Falcon's response with nervous excitement, and will resume with Steve this evening. The night has to draw to a close sometime, but Steve would take no notice if the building were afire, unless Falcon told him. Please, continue to post!
Pesky Avatar, sometimes on, sometimes off.))

Beth carried the steaming pot to Manion's table. The goulasch was served in an earthen bowl, large enough for most appetites and extra. Her smile was wide, and her voice somewhat timid.

"Manion, I talked to Gal, and she said all is good. She just likes her guests to feel that way, like guests." She was blushing, for no apparent reason.

"Can I get you anything else?" She asked with a hopeful look.

((OOC, Alright everyone, Gal's is open Thursday through Tuesday, but I need to get some game time in too That said, The restaurant and bar will close tomorrow at 4AM PST and be closed until the evening. I will not be posting, but you are all welcome to carry on, using NPC's properly. Gal has to get to the Mission, looking for you there Manion, and I need to game!
This is a wonderful thread, my opinion, and I thank every one of you. My characters are shadows compared to yours, please continue to keep me straight and fill my dull life with your wonder!))

((TO Satanz))

"Small Master, as safe as I can make it to you. You come in mortal guise, yes? None shall pass the threshold, that could cause harm to you." She spoke earnestly, as one to a valued friend, reassuringly. "This place is safe for all who mean no harm, Old Races or Young. I shall bring you food."

She could not bow, as one would to an old race in her home country, as she served another now. However, the old ones did not make idle visits, and this was a portent. Even her dark heart could feel the small one's power, and lack of malevolence. Perhaps a spirit summoned to perform a task who's master had perished before it was complete.

She ignored several other tables to place the food order, this was royalty of a type her people understood.

((OOC: Gypsy's family had dark magick users, but she is wholly good. Sometimes a little stiff, but she is mistaking Satanz for one of the imps known to her people. That means he will be shielded from unwanted attention, treated like a guest, but not pandered to. If he wishes to enjoy it, all the well. Gypsy will not betray Gal or the like, her service belongs to the Sisters and directly to Narshawn.))

((To Falcon))

Gertrude returned a moment later with Gal, a somewhat worried look on the tanker's face. The message had been that Broady was calling and sitting with Falcon. Gal realized he was awkward in this new world, she was trying to help him adjust, but he had peculiar questions at times.

Steve stood when he saw Gal, and took his leave of Falcon for a moment, they walked to a less crowded corner, out of her earshot ((hopefully)).

"Miss Gal," he said nervously, "Miss Falcon has asked me to dine wi' her. I told her I ha' no decent wear for tha' dinin' room, an she insists I eat wi' her in the bar."

"Why, you are doin' great! Very pretty lady, I tol' ya..." Gal began, truly pleased.

"No, Miss War, I ha'nt the money ta' pay for a decent dinner for us both. You le' me eat here fa' free, an' I thank ya', but I can'na ask ya for this! Wha' shall I tell her? I'm out of my wits 'ere, twould be mortal ta' refuse such a lady." He was distressed, even Gal could see it. It insulted his manners to refuse to eat with Falcon, but he would not ask her to pay.

Gal considered a moment, this man's honor was deep and rooted. "Steve, whatcha got planned for tonight after close?"

"I ha'nt planned anythin', Azuria is till ma' only contact," the question threw him out of his worry, off his stride.

"Then you'll be doing dishes here tonight, and Gypsy will go home early. That's a deal. I'll tell Martin not ta' expect you afore three." She held out one enormous hand, and shook his. That was gesture that had stood the test of time.

"Ah, not one more word about it," she chastened him when he started to thank her. "Now, get back to the lady, afore someone else invites her to dinner." Gal turned, a wise smile directed at Falcon, but whether she would see it or not, well.

"Sorry Miss Falcon," Steve said as he took his seat, a load off his mind. "I...had to ask about...the menu."

Falcon had the nicest smile.

((OOC: Being level four, Steve would have limited funds, but Gal will make sure he can get along. Her partner, Sibling, is quite well off, and the restaurant is doing a booming business.))

((TO Basilisk))

Martin had the red imp seated, there might be trouble there, but it would be handled if needed. Miss War had spoken about arranging for more help, and he was glad for that. Order, and with too little staff, guests were not treated properly, water glasses half full, wine and beverages going empty. It would not do, he told himself.

The laquered box safely under his arm, he walked to the bar. Tuck and Sole was the finest Men's accessory house in the entire city, and had a humidor that served several heads of state when they visited the capital. The Portagas were by no means cheap, but a gentleman could appreciate such things.

He caught sight of Gertrude near the Pool Room, and walked purposefully over.

((OOC: Hoping someone saves the day here, otherwise Beth will have some explaining to do...))

((To Satanz))

((Oh yes, I really appreciate that Gal's has such a reputation, and I had no doubt of you. ))

Gypsy approached the table, seeing one of the smaller people playing with several wallets. She was well associated with spirits and the dark arts, her father, the leader of the clan, had been known to use them. Little good it did, when the Column came...

She found it was best to deal with the "other ones" kindly, not offending them.

"Small Master, you should not be seen with your spoils, not here at least. I am Gypsy, of the old families, how may I serve you?" She did not bow, that would not be proper since she had not summoned him. She also knew if he meant ill he would not have announced his presence.

She offered the menu, and the specials, speaking as though he were another guest. Not all demons and "others" were on the plane by choice, and a good word from one in their home could bear many fruits.

((OOC: Ha, you picked a place with a certified Gypsy Dark/Dark. I hope I can do your very interesting twist justice, and someone of his stature would have a hard time finding a suit, so Martin is willing to overlook it. Don't be put off if Gypsy is mistaken or wrong, what would you think if a little devil walked into your bar?))

"Yes, Ma'am..No, ma'am." Steve came back around to hit seat. That was a tone he could understand, so she was either royalty and toying with him or she was from a landed family, at the least. Even the railmaster's wife would not have spoken to a man so.

In fact, he thought, there was only one type of woman, in his encounter, that would have been so brash and forward. No, that was not so, this woman was no Cathouse girl. Most definitely not. Miss Gal, she could be the same. Perhaps women were becoming more forceful, it was these customs that had him confused.

He sat. "I'd no more wish ya to go unsupped than I would ta go away. I am at the lady's service, such as I c'n provide it."

His back was a little straighter, hoping he retained some of his manners. Eating alone was standard for an Engineer, or at least eating amongst other men, and that was generally fast and behind his gages.

Maybe she was lonely, he thought. It would be that way, a strong woman would likely have trouble finding a man to accept that. It was what he had looked for in a wife, if looking was what it was, all those years ago. Either too concerned with fashion or happy with a man that came and went, that was the women he had known. Never one that could step out in the evening and share the joy of a locomotive at full steam in the day, he had never found that one.

Then the effect dimmed, and another thought occured. A cold stream filled his veins and he looked quickly for a solution.

"Miss Gertrude, if Miss Gal has a moment, would you ask her to spare one for me?" He would need to clear this up before they ordered....

((OOC: Falcon, no need to worry, Steve will sit with you all evening. There is one small matter, which your character does not know, but it will involve the bill, which Steve will in no wise allow a woman to pay or even know about. That will require Gal's intervention. I tell you so you understand what is coming, not so that Falcon acts.))

Martin was just walking through the door, a small, laquered box beneath his right arm. Removing his hat, and absently plucking at a non-existent lint on his overcoat, he narrowly avoided colliding with the red imp. Unflappable, he quickly shed the heavy flannel, becoming the Maitre 'd once more.

"May I help you, sir?" It was odd, the young Beth was not to be found, and that was not at all proper. "I apologize if you have waited long. My name is Martin, I am the Maitre 'd at Ladies. Have you a reservation?"

He glanced at the ID, quickly gathering that the creature was a hero, and mentally checking that there was an appropriate sized table and chairs. Towards the windows, directly adjacent to the tables reserved for the Sisters.

"The Bar or the Restaurant, sir?"

((OOC: Never is correct, no one would ever consider bringing the street into Gal's Bar or Restaurant. A nice, quiet evening, good food and conversation are what await all in her place. Stimulating company, a warm fire and food from a true cook with not a hint of violence or insult. But we never doubted that...wink. Welcome.))

Beth blushed, for all the world looking like a little girl, looking down at the floor. She was leery of relationships in general, not having good experience. Gal was watching over her now, and her partner, and they seemed able to be there whenever needed. She knew Gal's temper, after all that the huge black woman had done for her, she had offered to work for free as payment. That was not advised, she found out.

"Hardly, Manion," she said from under her eyelashes, sheepishly watching him. "Gal, Gypsy, Nar, they all have powers. Me? I'm just a girl, and I doubt I could handle being able to toss people around." She had noticed his habit, but paid little attention. He was handsome!

"Yeah, I better get back, Martin's still out and Vegas will find me if someone doesn't watch the door. You want to show Gal you care, that you would pay, you should look up the Mission over near the Garment Works. She spends Wednesday, her day off, volunteering there. Makes it part of the employment agreement, everyone has to spend a day there a month."

She fidgeted a little, then headed back to the podium, still blushing.

((OOC: That's where Gal found Beth, and it's part of her contract with the investor that set the place up. She hires from the Gang Recovery Project and the Mission, public service that strikes close to her heart.))

[ QUOTE ]
"Hello Gypsy." Wendy greeted Gypsy and gave her a quick look over. She liked the look on the lady, but would never bring herself try something like that on. "My name is Wendy and this is Alex." she gestured to Alex with a wave of her hand. "If you could give us say about 15 minutes before we order that would be great." Wendy was pretty sure that not giving Alex the chance to talk was the best plan here. Dread filled her though as he gave Gypsy a smirk and a real heavy, "Hello."


[/ QUOTE ]

Gypsy was just finishing with the bread, the woman had indicated fifteen minutes, but the man had answered separately, with a greeting. Americans could be strange in their customs, men were usually the dominant one in the couple, but women got preferential treatment. She looked between them, he was smiling but she frowned, perhaps he was the more friendly.

"Hello to you. Perhaps you would like for the appetizer," she pointed in the menu to the list. "I will be happy to serve you."

((OOC: Oh yes, she's lived here for some months, but Gypsy can be confused like anyone else. She would realize that a smile is not always friendly, but expects good will from anyone here, which I will leave up to you. It does not have to be innocent good will, I enjoy finding odd situations. Be aware though, if you have not read her bio, Gypsies as a group are taught, boys and girls, to handle trouble...))

Beth had been circling his table, trying to find a time when there weren't any other's close enough to hear a conversation. As Gypsy left to get his dinner, she saw the opportunity.

"Mr. Manion, Manion," she began, looking down at her folded hands. "That was very nice, what you did. Gal, she treats me really nice," she was keeping an eye out, trying to make sure neither Gal nor Gypsy saw her. "She has a thing about charity, gets mad if people give her things. She wants to earn her way. I just wanted to tell you thanks, but I had to tell Gal, you understand?"

((OOC: Beth is a single girl, trying to get back on her feet after being a runaway. Gal and her partner, Sibling, try to watch over several people from the local shelter.))

((For Falcon))

"I'm har'ly dressed for the dinin' room, mi'lady. Truth be told, the cost of a good set o' boots, tha's more'n I made in a month's wages on the road. Miss Gal's been more'n generous, but takin' money from a lady, tha' ain't right. Now, this Icon tailor shop, well, 'tis a far way for a man ta' afford decent pants, not speakin' o' a jacket and tails."

He looked slightly embarrassed, conscious of how his shirt and pants clashed with the cape and spotless dress of the lady. In a gesture unbidden, he wiped his bald head with the handkerchief again.

"I'd nah want ta be the cause of any fuss, nor be between you and the dinner you deserve, mi'lady," he stood, making a move to take Falcon's chair when she rose ((if she rises)). "Ya have been overly kind, an a source of much pleasure in yer parlay wi' me. Ya should enjoy yer dinner among finer folk then the likes o' a workin' man. Would imagine many a landed man would give his tracks for a bit 'o the evenin' wi ya."

((OOC: True, Martin would keep even the much honored Mr Broady from the restaurant without a jacket. Steve would be honored to spend more time with Falcon, but I can't have my characters traipsing through Gal's place and then send other's away. The actual character is only level 4, lol, and doesn't have the Inf to afford good clothes, yet. His Ball RR watch will come into play if he gets reinvited another night, Falcon is such....stimulating company. You don't have to feel rejected Falcon, you may dine in the bar or find other entertainment in the restaurant, Steve would not be offended.))

((For Alex and Wendy))

"Thank you ma'am," Beth said to the young woman. "And I am sorry sir, but we are not allowed to serve more than half a liter at one pour in the restaurant, local liquor laws. I can bring you two glasses, but no pitcher.

"Gypsy," she pointed to where the darkly attired woman was speaking to another man near the Grill, "will bring your bread and drinks. Please, enjoy your dinner." She smiled and walked back to the podium.

A few minutes went by, the crowd beginning to show, but the small area near the couple stayed clear, a small oasis protected by the fragrant tree.

"Good evening," a woman with the dark skin and pitch colored hair of her race, said. "I am Gypsy, lady has ordered the Kossmopo-litan and Sir has the beer. I bring bread and the dipping sauce. Tonight we have specials of Mussels in sauce, baked or Prime Rib. Should I come again for the order or stay?"

She had a thick accent, carefully pronouncing the words to be understood. Deep, rich red tones in her clothing mixed with gold and black embroidery, billowing pants and a cross-drawn blouse, allowing plenty of movement. Tall black boots, laced to the toe at her feet and a stiff-material scarf at her head, her black eyes came to rest on the man's face. Beth had warned her.

((OOC: Gypsy's Queen, D/D Scrapper. She is the last of her race, in Paragon as she flees the gangs that exterminated her clan (Column and now the Council). She carries magick from the old world, which makes her a target, and also a force to be reckoned with. She will accept some abuse, but know she is a royal, and has a temper. ))

((For Isis and Sweet))

"I can't speak for him, girl," Gal ran a heavy steel scraper across the grill plates, then used a towel to remove some spilled sauce before it became paint in the heat. "Sweet has helped a lot a folks in this town, got his own reasons. Got some suspicions, too." She looked across the room and caught sight of the man coming in the door.

"Ya can ask him yourself," she smiled as Martin intercepted Thang at the door. "Beth!" Her raised voice caught the girl's attention as she seated another table.

A moment later, the earnest young woman came to the grill, smiling and nodding at Isis. "Yes, Ms. War?"

"Go tell Martin that someone in the Bar ordered a Partagas D number four, and he needs ta fetch it. When he leaves, tell Sweet ta come up here." Beth hurried away and Gal said to the side, "Bet he's givin' Sweet the business about a jacket, but he's a good man, too."

One thing Gal knew about Martin, when a guest requested something, especially something Martin considered in good taste, there was no obstacle he would not try for it. There was one place a fine cigar afficianado could find something like the Partagas: Tuck and Sole, Gentlemen's Sundries. That was a ten minute ride by tram, in Founder's Falls.

Good could be said for dedicated staff. Gal waved Sweet up to the grill after Martin had his umbrella and hat. He looked so New Avengers, Gal almost laughed.

"Marcus Sweet Thang, please meet Isis." Gal introduced them, then "Now, please pardon me, I have to finish this lie or Martin will force that damn corset on me, insisting it is 'proper'."

((OOC: I assume you two will share some stories or at least occupy each other for a few?))

((For Basilisk))

Gal came through the kitchen doors, moving faster than usual and caught sight of Gertrude in the pool room. She saw Steve and the elegant Falcon, apparently enjoying each other's company and paused.

"Is everything well here? Dinner? Ya look lovely this evenin' Miss Kitiara." She paused to chat for only a moment.

"Gertrude," she said entering the gaming room, taking in the penguin and lizard. Strange, but stranger was out there. "Has anyone been in here, the smoking section? I got Martin runnin' an errand, pickin' up some cigars, and I need someone ta' get them to."

The dark-haired waitress smiled, she was in on the joke.

((OOC: Basilisk, if you like killing yourself, word is the Partagas is the best way to go. Consider the bill covered, and Martin will definitely give you his attention, if you desire, when he returns. "Such taste for the finer things, sir. I applaud you."))

((For Falcon))

"How could I nah? A man sees a lady in the street, some hoodlum tryin' for her satchel, an all these young men jus' a walkin' by? Nah, 'tis nah right!" He became more animated, losing some of the timid manners he felt being near a lady, and not just a woman, he still felt this was a Lady.

"So, I walk out inta' the day, an the whole 'o the world has changed. They've holes in the wall, ye' can connect up a hose from yer gee-gaws and they work. Folks, they all got these carriages an' can go about on roads. Ye' got a mayor tha' ain't owned by the rails, men an women," he emphasized the last word, as though it was surprising, "flyin' about an fightin' these spacemen. 'S enough ta' make a man forget tha' there be lasses and gents, no powers on 'em.

"So, I see a lass an some tough is pullin' her bag. I'm ta' walk on by? Dark day in 'ell that'll be!" His nostrils were flaring, steam making a steady wreath around his head. "Oh, pardon mi'lady, pardon a man for his tongue. Jus', can't see how a hero would not come ta' her aid. I were in trouble with the road, come an a day, for how they treated the Chinamen what laid the tracks."

His voice quieted, and he glanced around. The bar was animated, several tables talking amongst themselves, no one seeming to take interest in him. Customs might change, they might be the same, but some men watched over their shoulder.

"Sad ta' say mi'lady Falcon, the word was every rail laid on a Chinaman. Were a tough life. I can say, I am glad ta see that so many can live together here. All colors, all kinds," he leaned across the table, confiding a secret, "some I kinna say are e'en human."

((OOC: Steve is not prejudiced, in fact, he was an open mind in his day. I'm not prejudiced either, but trying to convey some of the wonder a man from 100 years ago would feel to see what the world has become. It may not be perfect, and it may have a long way to go, but compared to 1900 America, Paragon is the model of integration.
Steve owes Gal a debt, and there will be more about how he knows her, how Martin came to be in her service (when he is the great-great grandson of Steve's father's Butler). Oh, the plot twists, and Steve is enraptured by the fair Falcon, but men did not just blurt out lewd comments in his day. Even complimenting her on her style would be for the third date, lol.))

Gal returned to the grill, leaving Vegas to head into the warehouse for some special beer the bar had asked for. If it weren't for that girl, Gal realized, she would be sunk. Glancing back over to Manion, she saw he was shaken by her confrontation, she hoped not too much.

"And so, I bring you bread," Gypsy had returned, giving the order to Gal on her way past. "Now, Orange Juice I can find. Good for the hair and skin."

Unseen, she had slipped $20 back into his coat pocket, from Gal, with a note that he was welcome anytime, no reservation necessary. She wrote "Your face and disposition are good for business. Beth was smitten."

((OOC: Manion, you'll llearn that my humor can be dry and sneaky. Definitely consider this a place for you, if you like.))

That so cultured a lady would spend time and interest on him, Steve felt a little inadequate. She was worth the time, of course, and he was surprised she didn't have several suitors around her at the moment. So much different than the ladies of his time, not in a bad way, either.

"Well, once tha' deal was struck, first lass I meet was this Azuria. She knows somethin' a magic, and she sort of, got me right." He didn't elaborate, the look on his face unsure, as though he didn't know precisely what had happened.

"I spent a lil' time wi' your local law, they clued me in to what's what here. Met Miss Gal at City Hall on my firs' trip out an she sorta' took me under her wing." He looked across the table, unsure how to say what he wanted, then just charged on.

"Blacks were'n allowed ta walk streets free an all when I was wee'. Not in tha' South anyways, an that always burned my pants. Pardon mi'lady," he apologized for his rough language. "She was leadin' a bunch o' other heroes aroun', showin them tha' ropes. Took pity on me, I suppose. I don' know all these modern things. Been tryin' ta catch up ta' the world.

"Ya got crime, aright. Tha's one thing not changed, only they got bolder. Takin' from a lady in the street, muggers, roughians. Well, I can control fire now, don' know how, and got steam backin' me up. So I do what I can, keep the women-folk safe as I can. You might think they'd a figured how ta' be stoppin' all o' that nonsense, a hundred years...

"A hundred years is a long time..." He trailed off, realizing how ancient he would seem. His world had no hot and cold running water, no switches for every need, no paved roads across the country, no skyscrapers.

((For Basilisk))

Gertrude turned from her rounds when the large reptilian spoke. Instead of hissing or what she would expect from a large snake, his tone reminded her more of something she had heard in her childhood, some cartoon or memory. She couldn't place it yet, but that surprised her. He hadn't spoken two words that she had heard, then he seemed to almost rest.

*Maybe little bursts of energy are all he has* she thought, remembering some small lizards she had seen in the deserts when her family vacationed. They could run like light for a short distance in the sun, then would stop and bask in the sun, only to repeat it.

"Did you ask for Grasshopper Ale?" Still a little hesitant, she moved within easy earshot. "Calgary beer, Big Rock Brewery? Not on tap, they can't ship tap to us, but we might have some in the back."

She dared a small smile, holding the bar tray to her chest, in case he wasn't friendly.

((OOC: Gertrude has a normal fear of reptiles, you know, reaching under something and finding a snake, etc... She will warm to anyone, waitress training, if they treat her ok.))

((For Isis))

"Spit girl," Gal said, letting out a breath of relief, "You had me goin'." Gypsy caught her eye and motioned to where Manion was just removing his jacket, her mouth pulled down slightly.

"Sweet is one 'a the best men I ever met. For all he's been through, surprising. Says the women in his life made all the difference, treats 'em right. That, an' he's hell on villains." She winked at Isis, very glad the mess had been straightened out.

"Will you excuse me for jus' a sec?" Vegas was passing by, and Gal grabbed her for quick stove duty. "This won't take a minute," Gal said to the dark-haired woman, quickly introducing Isis to her.

She took several huge steps, coming to Manion's table just as he had placed the menu down. Her voice was restained, for her, but could be heard at other tables.

"I heard what ya did the other night," she placed one large, black hand on the table and bent over. "Beth tol' me. Now, ta get this straight: you come inta' my place and offer the staff whatever ya want. They do a good job for me, and I thank you for appreciatin' em." She stood and pulled up to her full height, arms across her chest.

"You come in here an I offer you a free meal, 'cause I like your face and you gots manners. You don't pay me," her frown was as stunning as her smile, dark clouds on her forehead, "Have you got that, Mister?"

The look stayed for a moment, until she was sure he knew she was serious, then dissipated as quickly, replaced by a smile. "Now, you sit there and let a lady show you how cookin' is done!"

Without waiting for a reply, she turned and took over the grill, laughing quietly, and sharing the joke with Isis.

((OOC: Manion, meet Gal's creeping sense of humor. She is known to go from hot to cold quickly, and the other way around. You have not angered her, not at all, but she feels she can have a little fun, since you "owe" her for refusing her hospitality. Now, just like in the south, you have to bear a little good-natured ribbing to pay it off. Beth got the whole $40 btw.))

((OOC: OK all, I hope I have not forgotten anyone, and if I did, the beer's free If you haven't guessed, I work nights here in the PacNorWest, and won't be able to reply until early morning, EARLY! Don't think I am ignoring you, if any of you are having as much fun as I am with this, you are one contented character.
I want to applaud everyone thus far, I am impressed at your skills and very much thanking you. For you that are intimidated, or shy, there are no judges here, Thang was right. This is about fun, and getting in character, and wow, what characters. Please continue, I sit on the edge of my seat....))

(( For Manion))

"Sir, Mr. Martin sent me for your jacket, if you care to leave it in the closet?" The woman had a thick accent, very course on the consonants, but was careful with her pronounciation. Her clothes were dark colors, and she wore a well made scarf with symbols embroidered, around her head. "I am Gypsy, both in name and race."

She gave a small smile, and held her hands out for the coat. "I will also be your server this evening. Mistress War has said if you are trying to pay, I should smite you. I believe she jests..." Her tone indicated she might believe it in jest, but she would do what she was told.

"I recommend the Goulasch, it is my own recipe, and Mistress War is very skilled."

((OOC: Manion, if you try to leave this thread, Gal will be serving your behind on a platter to Basilisk later. lol. Really, you are welcome, and very appreciated. Stay, have several beers and take your shoes off, Gal won't mind. You flatterer.))

((To Falcon))

Steve glanced over his glass at the woman, the ferocity in her eyes was no royalty, unless much had changed. There was a wild streak in her, something that he had wished for in women of his day, all the petticoats and parasols. Pink and light blue. Pshaw.

He was a man of steel, steam and the open range. His love of speed had been his downfall, his lust for duty, to be there when others failed. It had led to deaths as well, and that he had to atone for.

"Mi'lady, would that I had met you a hundred 'n more years gone. Mayhap there is somethin' in this world for a man to come to enjoy. Would you care for another of what you have?"

((for Manion))

"Mister Manion, it is a pleasure to see you this evening," Martin replied, having sent Beth off to seat the tall mohawked man and the slight woman. "I reserved the table as you asked, and with Ms. War's compliments. Please, follow me." Marting led Manion to a table with an excellent view of the room and a warm fire in a side-fireplace nearby.

"Specials tonight include prime rib with sauteed potatoes and baked mussels in sauce. I believe when Ms War is finished," his comments were broken by the owner's voice rising in pitch as she spoke to another woman near the grill, cell phone to one ear. Martin looked that way for a moment.

"As I was saying, when Ms. War is finished with her call, I will tell her you have arrived. Apparently there ws a matter of some," the proper man waggled his fingers, as though at something beneath notice, "money the other evening, a bill that was paid twice or some thing."

"Please, enjoy the view, this is one of the finest seats in the house." With that he made his way back to the podium, moing close to the grill and speaking quickly to Gypsy, who looked directly at Manion, and shook her head affirmative.

******

((For Alex and Wendy))

"That was great," Beth said as she seated the two beneath a spreading plant of some exotic origin. The leaves trailed out form a large main trunk, and left fragrant perfume with the motion of the vents' air.

"Martin can be so tight," she seated the lady first. "I am Beth, and your server will be Gypsy this evening. Can I start you with something to eat, or perhaps a glass of wine? We have bread from Three Miner's Bakery, and I can bring that with olive oil, balsamic vinegar from Modena, Italy or our house flavored oil/vinegar?"

*****
((For Gobb))

"Good evening sir," Narshawn paused in her converstaion with D Ceet. "Welcome to Gal's Bar, I am Narshawn. The waitress is Gertrude," she pointed to the woman heading into the pool room with a towel. "We have no Doctor Pepper, I'm afraid. Would Mr. Pibb suffice, we import it in the sixteen ounce tall bottles?"

Narshawn had a hopeful look, she hated to fail in her tasks.

****

((For Falcon))

"I am old, mi'lady," he waved around at the lights, the furniture, himself. "I know naught about this world, an the one I loved is gone, sure an away. Would be a great thing tha' could keep me from my peace."

"Though, not my place, what would keep you here, in this city? Surely you have land and a throne, outside this....circus, of a city?"

((For Rock and his crew))

Gertrude dabbed the last of the penguin from the table, it had melted away. "Can I get you all something from the bar, or kitchen? Another pitcher or some snacks?"

She still eyed the green one, he had something about him, and she wasn't sure if it was good or bad.

((OOC: Pant, Pant))

"Dear Lady," Martin began, unshakable and in the best manners at all times, "I will gladly take your name and see if there are any tables available," there were several empty tables, two with brass placards on them." Would the, ahem, Mister, be dining with you or would he prefer the Bar? To be closer to the door, I mean."

There was a quirk of his eyebrow as he said it. Martin would not step on a patrons toes, but he was highly skilled at innuendo and implication. Bath made a quick turn away, laughing more about Martin's being insulted than about his clever remark.

"I was young when Mr. Connery first played the gentleman, and still believe a man is judged not by his...plumage, but by his manners, sir ." He removed two menus from the podium, waiting for their response to the request for tables.

Gal held one enormous hand over the laughably small phone. shock on her face.

"Oh no, girl, you misunderstood me! I figured if you didn' mind, Sweet would prolly think it a treat to meet you. Be willin' ta' bet he's seen all your flicks," she would have laughed, but this would have been serious if she misunderstood.

"Girl, Sweet's married, got little Thangs. I wouldn't make no big deal, not tryin' ta' embarrass ya', but Sweet is a nice guy. How could I let ya' come in here and not at least give him the chance to meet ya'?"

Sweet's voice had come on the other end, and now Gal realized she could have really nerfed the whole deal. All she wanted to do was introduce a good friend to another one, granted one probably seen in the movies. She knew it may have seemed like something else, and worried about how she would square it with the two.

She held the phone, hoping Isis was not offended and waiting to see if her new friend would accept the possible meeting.

((OOC: Gal was not trying to set them up, only get them to meet each other. Did I blow that so bad? I do try to make misunderstandings part of the deal, like real life, and Gal is more impetuous than some of my other characters.))

"T'will be a borin' an unsavory tale for ya', m'lady. Naht one much fer the tellin' o' stories, perhaps thi' swill say it better'n I could." The man had yet to sit, always waiting for a lady first, and he motioned to the pool room area. "Jus' learnt this trick las' week, all o' these fancy gee-gaws arun with 'lectric."

He approached the jukebox with a small silver coin, catching the sight of the giant penguin and reptile, he paused. Seeing they were occupied with the game, he started again. Deliberately, slowly, he placed the coin in the correct slot and pressed several buttons, a look of concentration on his face.

What had been heavy metal changed, though the rhythms were close to the same. A heavy bass beat, punctuated with something like a hiss and puffing sound started, then a loud steam whistle. The look on Steve's face was almost beatific, the glow dimming as he leaned against the cd-player jukebox.

"Well they gave him his orders at Monroe, Virginia,
Said: "Steve, you're way behind time,
"This is not 38, this is Ol' 97,
"Put her into Spencer on time."

Then he turned around and said to his black, greasy fireman,
"Shovel on a little more coal.
"And when we cross that White Oak mountain,
"Watch Ol' '97 roll."

And then a telegram come from Washington station,
This is how it read:
"Oh that brave engineer that run ol 97,
"Is lyin in old Danville dead."

'Cos he was going down a grade making 90 miles an hour,
The whistle broke into a scream.
He was found in the wreck with his hand on the throttle,
Scalded to death by the steam.

One more time!

Oh, now all you ladies you'd better take a warning,
From this time on and learn.
Never speak hard words to your true-lovin' husband.
He may leave you and never return.
Poor Boy."

The music was fast paced, but behind it was a bluegrass sound, country and fast at the same time. Between choruses, the sounds of steam whistles and steel on the tracks added to the feeling of being on a locomotive. When Steve returned from the machine, he looked shaken and waited a moment before taking his seat, after Falcon sat.

"Ya see, Ms. Lady Kitiara, I was the Engineer on duty tha' night. My regular engine, Penn 38," he pronounced it three-aight, "had a boiler leak in tha forwar' cross lines, couldn' build a head," he noticed she was looking perplexed, then realized most people hadn't seen a steam train, or likely any train besides.

"Sorry ‘bout tha’, guess locomotives aren’t all tha’ popular these days, just tha’ ‘lectrical carriage on trestles. A locomotive in my day, they were measured in wheels and steam horsepower. She was a four-six-oh, a ten wheeler, four wheels in tha’ front for guidin’ and six for puttin’ tha’ steam to the steel.

“My job was takin’ care of them, Engineer of tha’ line. My regular,” pronounced rega-lar, “engine were nummer ten-three-aight, a small side-track freight. Everythin’ on any line gave way to Ol’ ninety-seven. She was the finest train, express line, an when tha’ lady left the station, she wouldn’t stop for no man. Tha’ run was an honor, an I were startin’ almost an hour late.”

With this, he pulled a well worn, shining pocket watch from a breast pocket in his shirt. A good eye would have seen that it was an original Ball Railroad approved watch, a hinged gold door on the face. His eyes were elsewhere, not even in this time.

“Beautiful, she were, had a full head ‘o steam when I walked to the tracks. They let Jimmy, my fireman, ride the line that night. Jimmy, he could fill a numba’ nine big knuckle wi’ twenny pounds of coal and go all night. Big knuckle, that’s a shovel, sorry.

“Her Trainmaster, Engineer, fell sick tha’ mornin’ and here was I with no engine and on the company’s time. The stationmaster called ta me, he said: ‘Steve, ain’t never been a day Ol’ 97 has been late’. The run was Monroe to Spenser, Virginia, with a long grade after White Oak Mountain Pass. Trestle on tha’ other side, just outside Danville, ‘bout 500 foot high.”

He paused, looking across the table at the woman. Generally, the ladies in his time would not listen to a tale like this, at least not intentionally. This woman, for all her regal bearing had something feral in her eyes and a strength in her arms, she was no society Belle. He decided to continue.

“I had all but made up tha’ time, when we hit tha’ three mile grade at Danville. Probly’ blew a line, had my steam too high an knew it, tryin’ ta’ make the time. Brakes failed and that is one far drop. Ne’er could tell tha’ speed, gage went to forty-five and tha’ needle showed the stops. Did only thing I could, threw everythin’ she had inta’ the reverse wheels. Last thing I knew, saw the heart of the boiler.”

His hands shook, but he met her gaze, a man who had failed and was on display for all the world, famous for his error and pride. He took a slow breath, releasing it as small tendrils of steam rolled from his nostrils.

“Then, two weeks ago, I woke up. I dinna’ know how, only that there is a deal for mah soul. I was told tha’ eleven souls left that night, from my arrogance and pride. I will be free to live or pass on only when mah bill has been paid ta’ their families.” He held up one hand, a small flame sputtered to life in it.

“Weren’t no heroes or such when I was wee,” he smiled a slow, cautious smile, “an now I know aught to nothin’ about tha’ world.”

Gertrude had brought two large mugs, one he downed immediately, the second he carefully placed on a coaster. Some rumbling sound began, from his direction.

“Pardon me, mi’lady.” A wisp of steam came from his nose as he spoke, “have to keep my head up, get tired quick without some liquids.”

((OOC: This is long, I know, but I couldn’t resist this story. Thanks to many for writing the tune, the lyrics are Johnny Cash, but sung by many before and after. This is based on the real Wreck of Engine 97, but I took liberties. The real line was Pittsylvania, VA.))

((For Manion))
"Reservation, for one, at six o'clock," Martin penned the name in the book, marking a table close to the Grill. "Thank you, Mr. Butler. Please be prompt, our policy is to hold tables no longer than ten minutes." He hung up the phone, making a tsk-ing noise quietly.

*Heroes arriving alone, night after night.* He was attending to several new arrivals. *Should find themselves decent company, perhaps a lady to enjoy dinner with.* His opinions he kept to himself, unless the situation warranted it.

At least he had placed Mr. Broady with the welcome Miss Kitiara. That was certainly an improvement over the rough and tumble crowd that seemed the norm in this town. He owed his service to Mister Broady, who had an agreement with Ms. War, which had transferred his employment to her.

*Ah, the Ladies. There was a group of well mannered women,* his mind wandered while his well-trained body carried on the formalities with the group, seating and indicating who would be their server.

******
((For D Ceet))
Narshawn smiled, somewhat wickedly, at the sight of Gertrude bustling about. Tonight, it was Nar that had a pleasant conversation with the small woman named D Ceet. Curious she would chose a name so likely to cause second looks, but at least it was her name and not a constant freezing breeze. Narshawn sighed.

"I'm sorry," she said to the other woman, "What were you saying?"

*******
((For Isis))
"You mean Sweet? If you can catch his eye, you'd not have ta work a day again." She thought about it for a moment, big as he was, he could be a teddy bear. "He isn't called Sweet 'cause he likes candy. He takes care of a big part of the kids and former gangers in this part of town, deep pockets. Don' have much use for men, but him I'd think about if I weren't already married." Her sly smile exposed her brilliant white teeth.

"I could see if he has some time, maybe make up something ta get him in here. Wouldn't be no trouble, all I have ta say is that I'm makin' collards and chitlins."

((OOC: Sweet is another player's character, but he might play along. Let's see what he responds to a call from Gal...))

"Marcus Sweet, please. Tell him this is Gal, thank you." She spoke into a cell phone, far too small for her, but the largest you could get. Sweet's secretary put her on hold.

Gal paid close attention to the woman, working the grill by instinct. She knew what it was like to have an important person, someone she felt comfortable with, enjoyed seeing, worried about. If it was love, that was fine, if it was not, she would take it anyway.

"I think I know what you're sayin'. Gots my power from magic, and it lets me take a lot of damage. I do that to protect my friends, haven't lost one yet. I am sorry for ya, but don't think yer ever alone, Sistah." The intensity in her gaze could not be missed, she meant what she said.

"You'd do well, you ever get back to movies. Hell, I could get ya yer own fan club, couple hundred right here in Paragon." She smiled, trying to cheer the somewhat more somber conversation. "You've finished dinner, how would ya feel for some Bread Puddin' or Mud Pie?"

((OOC: Gal would reach over and put a reassuring hand on Isis', but is a little self-conscious about being misunderstood. Just assume she is a southern type lady, and hugs or holding another woman's hand only indicates support.))

Martin led a man much larger than himself from the hallway that connected the Restaurant and the Bar. The man moved somewhat awkwardly, looking around him with a gaze that spoke of too much new sensory input in too short a time. Perhaps slightly over six feet, completely bald, his bulk would not look out of place on a professional body-builder.

His eyes were blue, glowing blue like warm steel, matching his deep blue denim pants and denim shirt. As he walked, he flexed large hands, gloved in leather and denim, something similar to what a boilermaker or foundry worker would wear. The eyes were odd, but the flushed color of his red skin was the first thing most noticed, like he had been dipped in boiling water, scalded.

As Martin and the man approached, Kitiara saw his thick moustache and gleaming teeth, he laughed at some joke from the Maitre 'd, whisps of steam rising from the corners of his mouth. His voice and laugh were deep, and had an odd echoing quality. like the sound came from a large barrel. With a thick right arm, he unconsciously stroked one side of his bushy facial hair, the only hair apparent on him. Once he saw the direction, and destination, Martin was taking him to, he seemed to hesitate.

"Oh, Mart, I'm nah dressed ta sit wi' a lady," Falcon might have overheard. "ya did'n tell me she were royalty." He would have turned and left if Martin had not applied his somewhat uncanny personality.

"Mr. Broady, my family has served yours since your grandfather took my ancestor in, some two hundred years ago," the sour-faced man had the stern tone of a schoolmaster, and could apply it most effectively. "Would you think I would lead you into trouble. You wound me."

The other man in denim held out his hands, his expression chastened. "No, no, Mart. Ya know better'n tha'. Trusts ya wi' me life...just," he glanced over the suited-man's shoulder, at Kitiara. "She's a Royal, if she's anythin'. I should be in tails, man!"

"Nonsense, your butler knows these things." With that, Martin carried the man, Steve, in his wake to the table.

Quickly, trying to be unseen, Steve removed a red and black checkered handkerchief from a pocket and wiped his brow, then his head. The movement was habitual, done with a practiced air, and the cloth disappeared back into the pocket, only one corner projecting. Both gloves came off, to be stuffed in an oversized back pocket.

"Miss Kitiara, may I present Mr. James Broady, recently of the Pennsylvania Railroad," at this, Broady's eyes passed a cloud, and he looked somewhat embarrased. "Mr. Broady, please, Miss Falcon Kitiara, of more Northen Lands." He cocked an eyebrow at the woman.

"It's Steve, mah lady," he bent at the waist, unsure how to greet this woman. In his day, woman that wore capes and had finery like this were all royalty, even the railroad Dames would not have been able to afford this. "Engineer and Trainsmaster, at yer service."

((OOC: If Falcon holds out her hand to shake, he will instinctively kiss the back of it. And, if you think her hands are calloused, try a man who until a few weeks ago spent his days handling the less than OSHA approved controls of a 120 ton steam locomotive, boiler doors and hard iron handles. If Falcon asks, oh please, he will tell his story, at least as much as he remembers. His touch is hot, like steam heat or a warm radiator. His accent is bad Irish, sorry.

Nice work on describing Falcon, very nice.))