Sibling

Gal's face soured at the mention of Portal Corp, and her eyes grew hard when he claimed to be this man. The tiara she wore under her hair gave her a certain insight, along with her powers of tanking. It did not tingle, detecting no lie or subterfuge. He could actually be Mr Banma.

"Then I am honored," she touched her forehead, remaining upright. "A friend has spoken your name with high regard, and I know who you are. I'm Gal 'O War." She thought of Lady Sharon, who had once worked in his country, had spoken with only good words about him and his rule. She would not bow before any except her Ladies, but showed him the respect he deserved with her motion.

"Damn portals, I hear more about them tonight..." her manners returned, "Pardon me your grace. That cursed place is nothing but trouble, you ask me. I 'spose if it helps get the Nem's out of wherever you are, must be something good to it." Her expression showed her doubts.

"Now, about this support you need." She placed one heavy-soled leather boot on the brass bar footrest, leaning an elbow on the top. "Never been in the service, but I know what long overnighter's are, spent three weeks in Striga, but prolly nothin' compared." She looked around, catching sight of Dark Vegas as she passed through, always the vigilant one.

"Sir, you talk to Vegas here," she motioned as the much shorter woman walked over, dark hair and bright eyes. "Vegas, you take President Black here and get him whatever we have he can use. Pull it off the damn walls and menu if you need to, no hero in this city needs booze that bad.

"He wants to take some food, anything that'll keep for the trip, give him that, too. Now, mind you," she held up an immense finger at the woman, "mark it all up twenty-five points, ain't runnin' no charity operation here." The surprised look on the woman's face mirrored the tall man's own at being overcharged, for this.

"Don' worry, sir, you don' pay here," she brushed off his look, a grin opening her chocolate-colored lips. "Vegas, send the bill to that Portal Corp Office that Ad works for. Call it 'Overtime and Damages', and sign it with Sib's name. He'll get the message." She winked at the leader, then realized there was never a camera when you needed one.

"You come find me before you leave, please?" He deserved at least one-for-the-road.

[ QUOTE ]
"Could I purchase some?" he asked again.

[/ QUOTE ]

Narshawn considered this a somewhat odd request, but she was a fairly new hero, fairly young and had not been to places like Striga or Zulu. She nodded and placed a hand on her shoulder, some would have mistaken it for a salute, but in reality she touched a carving, hidden on her skin, that matched tattoos on every Sister in The Order. She thought of one name, concentrating.

Gal's head turned, her shoulder warming beneath her heavy shirt. Narshawn, she thought.

"Miss Lili, would you excuse me a sec?" She stood, motioning for Gypsy to stay. "I'll be right back."

She passed Beth, gently patting her shoulder, careful of the lace, and spoke a few short words to Manion. A greeting, a compliment.

"Nar, you need me?" She stopped at the bar, maybe of equal height with the bearded man. The tiny woman related his request and she turned to face him.

*Big man, handsome, something elegant in the way he holds the glass,* she thought, taking in details quickly. Her smile was wide, teeth sparkling and right hand thrust out.

"Welcome to drink as much as you can hold and be decent, while in my place," she said, "but I got'sa ask what you want with boxes of mah' liquor. There's reg's and the city could bust me good, sellin' for resale somewhere illegal, you know. No Hollows, no Faultline, some others.

"Where's it going?" Her smile hadn't shifted, but one eyebrow rose, questioning. She was as generous as she was strict on rules, and the bar was one of the best draws for the place. No sense losing a license.

((OOC: I bet your troops love you, Black. Bring me a bottle of Cuervo in the trenches and I would have ironed your shirts for a month ))

In the bar, a piano piece was playing from the jukebox. Narshawn noticed it seemed to affect the man called Black sadly, and she understood from his tale why. Cold comfort was all she could give, but she wished him a light heart.

Gertrude was moving from the bar to the kitchens, apparently in a hurry to get back to Jack. He was easy to talk to, and flirted right back without being too serious about it. Light hearted, and she could certainly appreciate that, smiling to herself. He hadn't tried to pinch or grab, which would have ended anything she felt for him.

Gal smiled at the red-haired wanderer. Special people seemed to come to this place more often than she could have hoped. Regardless that it was doing well financially, she would have started this for no payment if she had realized it could be so wonderful. Too much violence in the city, she thought often. Place to relax, to see friends and have a good meal, that was why she started it.

"Miss Festival, you're a special one. Anyone is a friend of yours, is a friend of mine. The wine isn't half as good as the company. Martin may know grapes," she winked and placed a motherly arm around Gypsy, surprising the dark-skinned European, "but I know people."

"Tell me a little more about your troupe. Bend my spirit with your tales. You don't know how I love ta' hear about other places." Her arm moved from the now embarrassed Gypsy, who was unused to such shows of family, outside her own.

((OOC: What a wonderful thing, this RP and board. I delight in it, in all of you, and thank you for feeding my ego, which is now being surveyed for federal taxes. I may end up having to pay in two states if you keep feeding me like this ))

Diva could see why the people thought Sibling was a human from this world, even though her smell was wrong. The being that walked into the hall, accompanied by several armored guards, was human and at first sight, he was Earth Human. Her eyes widened, watching the person stride from the main entrance, bedecked in flowing garments that had to be expensive. The guards with him, trolls from this world, stayed close. From the corner of her eye, she saw the three council members rise and the trolls with Ekanga glance between themselves. Things had escalated quickly from meeting with the council to confrontation with whoever this was.

Diva moved slightly between Sibling and the man, who paused several paces away and glared through pale blue eyes. She could smell that this person was not a human from this world.

“Who dares to hold a council without members from the royal house?” The man turned away from Diva, looking instead at the three leaders. His tone, stance and even the set of his jaw indicated he was unused to being anything but the authority.

Sibling looked around Diva, staying partially out of sight, but trying to see who this was. Perhaps twenty-five, long blonde hair and pale skin, blue eyes all part of the imperious air he wore like a garment. His clothing was rich as well, a wristlet that had sparkle and his gesturing hands were unmarked by work. The twins concentrated, feeling around the borders of his mind, staying out of contact in case he was also a mind talent.

“Prince Par,” Malthu spoke loudly, bowing at the waist, ever the politician. “We did not expect you…”

“Obviously. Answer my question, what is going on here?” The words translated through Diva’s mind to Sibling, but the tone was clear enough. Diva’s thoughts were that the accent was wrong, too. No question that the council, guards, even Ekanga were all worried, some scared. Rule by fear, the oldest way to gain power.

Tasmirin was visibly angry, first at the interruption, then that this man, Par, would take that tone. The dwarf’s face changed to red and one hand went to her beard, pulling it out of habit. Malthu looked unsure, probably not in a position to argue and used to being more of a shadow in the workings, he clasped his hands behind his back and stood straight. Only the elf looked even slightly pleased, and Diva wondered how this human had known the meeting was here, now, unless there was information flowing unchecked.

“This is our matter, Prince,” the dwarf was bold, but not stupid. She knew that her people depended on how she acted, causing too much trouble would earn them a place none of them wanted. She was slightly higher than the elf’s waist, her weight probably equal to his and her spirit eclipsing the rest of the council. “We are the council here.”

“And I am the Prince, royalty. I had been told that someone had come here, NOT by your council.” The prince’s voice was not pleasant, and Diva imagined it was not pleasant all the time. This was a petulant child, what happened when there were no rules for some and only rules for others. “It is by luck that I was able to reach this place in time. I come with the authority to arrest these two, as treason to the throne.”

Now he spun back, fully facing Diva. “You will come with me and my guard, to be brought before the king and found guilty of treason. I don’t know what game you play at here, a supposed human and troll, but you will answer to my father.”

*What a disaster* rushed through Diva’s mind. Their plan had been subtle, try to get clear of the village, get to the main city and find out information in secret if possible, until they could find a way home. She felt Sibling’s hand touch her back, hidden from view except for two of Ekanga’s men, and they were occupied trying to decide which side to take if things went bad. Most of the others were sidling over to where the Sheriff stood, making it clear they served him, without regard to the actual rank here.

The pressure on Diva’s left side increased, Sibling signaling which way they wanted her to move. She saw four guards with the prince, and likely more nearby. Wearing what looked like powered armor, thick joints and cables, their faces exposed, they would be easily a match for anything in this room. Anything from this world, anyway.

“Level ten blaster el-ef-tee?” Sibling’s voice caught Diva by surprise, only training keeping her attention on the group. Three people in the room understood that language, the language of Paragon. Diva saw a shocked look of recognition come over the prince, one hand rising to point, then rising to his temples as pain rocked his mind.

The shorter controller stepped out from behind Diva, spreading her arms. The guards never knew what happened, quietly snoring before realization hit them. The rest of the room was quiet, council members looking dumbfounded, Ekanga and his men poised to move.

“Tell them to be at ease, D’.” Sibling moved across the room to where the small crowd stood, the prince still reeling from Dominate. “This is a refugee from Paragon, and we imagine that the others are, too.”

Diva spoke quickly to the council, then turned to where her partner waited for the power to wear off. A sound from the raised dais behind her as the elf quickly ran through a door, she moved. Ekanga was right with her, faster than she would have expected, and his guards gathered their wits to follow.

“This way, he will try to reach the offices.” The troll sprinted into a side hall, opening doors with force. Diva hated to leave Sibling, knowing they were strictly mentalists, but they seemed to have things well in hand.

A long corridor later, several stout doors lined one wall, each the personal office of one of the councilors. He hadn’t seemed dangerous, other than being very sly, but Diva had lived in Paragon long enough to know that even seemingly weak foes could surprise you. She placed one hand on Ekanga’s arm, gripping his substantial bicep until he looked up to her face.

“I guess I should have told you, neither Sib or I are simple people.” She smiled and called up a phantom army, the hall suddenly crowded with pale creatures of all physical shapes. The light sparkled on their almost opaque skin, masked and featureless. Ekanga drew an audible breath.

“I did not think so, but you are much more than that.” The creatures milled about, waiting for direction, absently pacing between them and the doors. A gesture, and they opened the first door to find an empty space decorated with Tasmirin’s eclectic choice of art and weapons.

He wasn’t in his own office either. Bracing herself, Diva threw open the last door, Malthu’s space, to find more emptiness. Her brow knitted, then there was a scuffling in the hall behind her, followed by an incredible crash and blasts of light. Phantom Army doing a fine job of pounding the elf, when her head poked out to see, Wilthey was trying to stab a decoy with some sort of short sword while one of the phantom blasters dropped him with an electric blast. Her male companion stood in awe.

“I…have never seen…” he stumbled out, watching as the sparkling beings fell to the floor and disappeared. Diva smiled shyly when his eyes turned to her. “You are quite a woman.”

“Ah, yes,” she wanted to revel in his attention, but other events were moving along. “But we need to get him back, make sure Sibling is fine.” She grabbed the elf, amazingly light, by the back of the robe and packed him like a suitcase back to the meeting hall, accidentally hitting a couple doorframes on the way.

When they entered the room, the council was sitting again, Malthu and Tasmirin deep in discussion with hushed voices. The raven-haired Sibling still paced near the foreign guards and the prince, all asleep now. Troll chief and dwarf quieted as the two trolls carried Walthey in, Ekanga’s men coming to place him in custody.

“Perhaps you should explain, Trollkin Diva,” the stern sound of Malthu’s voice carried, his interest now in more than simply why they were here. The display of power from Sibling alone was amazing, and he had not seen Diva’s abilities. “You did not mention any of this.”

“Elder, for this I apologize, but we did not want to cause trouble.”

“Trouble! Trouble?!” Tasmirin fumed, Diva wondered if she had any other emotion besides outrage. “You just harmed a royal! In our chambers, and her guard and attacked a council member.” Her voice digressed into loud laughs. “I would have paid my mother’s wedding price to see that!”

It was not at all what Diva expected, a second passed and then she laughed as well, watching Malthu smile wide, his teeth protruding. The dwarf stumped down from the platform, coming to pat both Sibling and Diva on the arms.

“That man was the one who comes here every year, lording around and telling us what to do. But you spoke to him in the royal tongue, if I heard it correctly.” A curious eye passed over Sibling, taller only than the dwarf.

“It is our language,” Diva interpreted both ways, quickly.

“He is from Paragon, perhaps clearance ten, and an electric blaster.” The twin’s eyes steadied on the sleeping prince’s head. The council’s guards had taken the powered armor off the others, rounding them into a small office it would take time to break free from. “We will wake him, but this matter needs to be settled. Diva, tell the council we intend to return anyone from our world to our world. This is not right.”


The man’s eyes opened, bleary, a headache pounding between his ears.

“Hello, again.” Sibling spoke her native language. “We know you understand us, and there is no need for further injury. Who are you?” Their voice was soft, female and as unthreatening as they could make it.

“You’re from Earth?” Par’s voice was strained, the pain still acute, but his hands were free…

“That would be unwise, when was the last time you tested a Mind Controller?” The bright green light from her eyes was a warning to Par, Sibling was far beyond danger from the prince. “You will return with us, along with any others that came with you. The question is still, who are you, and why are you here?”

Par was smart, the cape and aura meant that both the troll woman and this Sibling were more than a match, some high level skills for certain. He had wanted to go home for some time, not that the royal life was bad, but he missed his real family. It didn’t take any more convincing, he started talking.

"This song," a cold air drifted from her mouth, "it is by Kevin Kern? A piece for piano?"

Narshawn might be alien, might be young and might be from an enclave of women isolated from society, but information never left her mind. Music was a hobby of her Lady, Gemini, and most especially piano and strings.

She waited for some indication from him.

Gertude didn't even try to hide her laugh, throaty and free, tension she had forgotten evaporated. It brought some looks from up the room, but she didn't care, she hadn't seen anyone that could eat Gypsy's chili straight, except maybe the Dark Magick woman herself, and she suspected that had something to do with infernal spirits.

"My god, Jack, that was priceless!" Her hand laid quickly on his arm, then was gone again. "I'm sorry, but I was waiting for that."

Narshawn was placing another tall glass full of thick white milk on the end of the bar, leaving some patrons alone to their conversation. A quick step brought Gertrude there and back, sweat dripping from the refill.

"I did mention it was spicy," he had a way, like he didn't mind flirting, "or did you confuse which dish was hot and which was spicy?" She patted his cheek playfully. "I'll be back in a second, let me get the tall man's order. Almost my break anyway, I'll be right back."

She left with a blush in her cheeks, nothing to do with the heat in the bar. The giant had ordered a second steak, well, Gal did make quite the steak, and rare was Southern rare.

((OOC: Jack, communications are open. She's a good girl, flirty, but honest and good to know. Her son, oh man, he's going to be trouble one day...))

Gal pulled the last ticket from the rack, sending the second steak across the bar to a very tall man a shade darker than she was. She was going to try and get over to him before he left, rare to see someone that dark, who was not an alien. She fondly remembered the visit from Hand of Ma'at, hoping she would return one day.

Martin stopped briefly, setting down a bottle still cool but freshly cleaned. His hobby was turning the bottles in the immense cellar, well, the fabricated cellar, she didn't ask where he had found the temperature controlled room. Dark Vegas could be seen slowly walking the floor, pausing here or there, talking to patrons. The cook folded her apron and turned down the burners, any more food would wait a bit or someone would get her.

The right door swung open, Gal motioning for Gypsy to follow, and the two of them walked to Festival's table.

"I hope a Port would work, Martin said this was tasty." She glanced at the smooth black bottle, "Damned if it ain't older than me." A smile that meant she was pleased by that fact. "They say women are like fine wine, better with age," she winked at the Wanderer. Gypsy smiled small at first, some humor not making the leap between languages.

Gal read the label, "Romariz, Nineteen fifty-two, Colheita Port...Nineteen fifty-two...Evita's last year." A small frown, she looked around the room and motioned Martin over. "Gypsy, sit down. Lili, I think you met Gypsy earlier, if you don't mind her joining us." The brightly colored hair shook, and Gal pulled up one of the heavy chairs for herself, relaxing into it with a long exhale.

"Martin, do the honors." Gal blinked, *How did he do that?* As the man produced three crystal stems, flared at the bottom of the glass and tapering slightly at the top. The emblem of the Sister's was etched into them, an Oak, a mountain and the crescent moon above.

Gal held her filled glass up once he was finished. "To women of grace."

((OOC: Hopefully the choice will suit the well bred Festival. The life of the nomadic folk is without peer, you said it beautifully, lady Dollhouse. The fortune teller bounty! Good on ya!))

"We have a few bottles remaining," Narshawn nodded to Basilisk. "And more on order." His steak arrived almost on cue, and the bartender floated back, not intruding on the conversation between the others, but close enough to be at hand.

((OOC: Do you know how much shipping is on that stuff? Even with Stam six-slotted, Nar has to stop umpteen times to get there. Rotten sharks and all. ))

Gertrude finished her tour with Jack, making sure he was last so she had time to talk a little. She watched him throw the darts, something he obviously enjoyed.

"Here you go Jack, something spicy for you," her lips parted in a smile, "and I brought your food, too." Naturally long lashes fluttered. She had been waiting tables, not always in nice places, for many years. Her face showed a line or two, but was still fair. She had long ago learned how to swing her hips, toning it down a little with someone as honest as Jack.

Laying a cloth mat on the tall table, near his milk, she produced a large plastic spoon from an apron pocket.

"In case you have to rush off again...but if you promise to bring it back to me, I'll give you a real one." From another pocket she pulled the fine silverware the restaurant used. Her dimples showed, melting a decade off her face.

((OOC: Jack, you sure are a nice guy. The chili's hot, and Gertrude is even starting to warm up to you a little No strings, just some good conversation.))

Gertrude and Gypsy carried out the heavy platters, figuring to get as many served as possible in one pass. On the bar, they placed cloth mats, keeping the ceramic from marking the wood, as they laid the plates. Portions fit for moderate eating, side dishes and water.

((Dinner is served, all you hungry heroes. I just wrote the ending to Sibling's story on the Jack Zodiac thread Siblings' Passing , and need some time to recover. Sorry ))

"Believe in see'ers? Girl, half my Order has some mental power, I believe in them all right." The woman cocked one hip over, relaxing.

"Offer of help is welcome, best I know is that she is ok, was as of last night anyhow. As far as me asking someone to go through one o' them damn portals, not on your life. Sweet thing like you should be sittin' in the shade somewhere the cottonwoods bloom, sippin' a ice tea and decidin' which beau to ask over." She winked, warming to anyone that would so selflessly offer help. She liked the woman's sense of clothing too, nothing Gal would ever put on, but her friend Bubbles would beg for the designer.

"Make you a deal, seems like you have some folks you team with. I do, too, and I imagine my people would delight in hearing about it. Sisters, I'm a Sister of the Order," she pointed back towards the beautiful sign near the door, "Ladies of the Lake is my group, the name of the place is a play on words.

"Enjoy your custard, hope it's decent, no chef or anythin'. You get a chance, I like your company, come back anytime and there's no hurry tonight. You sit there, have a bottle of wine, enjoy the fire. For Goodness sake, relax and let the house take care ah' ya'. Gal's is always open for you."

The odor of spice filtered through the air on a stray breeze, bringing Gal's head around.

"Gypsy! Leave those steaks alone!" She said in a voice only loud enough to carry. "If you're around in a few, once I get those steaks off, mind if I come and sit a bit? Platforms are definitely not for this floor." She lifted one foot, some three inch platforms making her that much taller.

((OOC: She means that Dollhouse, marvelous character.

Gypsy is like one of those mischievous house elves, she never does any harm, but nothing is ever quite spicy enough for her. It's a running joke with Gal and the crew, and they love her dearly.))

"Better than I deserve," she smiled, noticing that some of the other patrons were breaking out pitchforks and torches. "I'll be back in a Jiff, better head off the angry mob before Nar sees them."

"What can I get you gentlemen, this evening?" She stood between the immense black man and the trail-worn one. Betty was next on her list.

((OOC: Gertrude is an NPC, everyone, treat her like a middle aged waitress with a sharp tongue, no insults but sly wit, and she'll be glad to help out. She knows Jack, but is friendly with anyone. She makes her money in tips remember, so flirting is accepted.))

((OOC: Come on guys, a girls gotta make a living, work you know...))

Narshawn drifted back with a full platter of liquors, eyeing the dark man intently. Drunkeness was not a virtue, but she knew ways to make sure all stayed well.

"Sir, your order," she saw that the dusty gentleman was also a little low. "Would you like a refill?"

((OOC: Just imagine that the staff are there when you need them, I like hearing others RP, and don't want to spoil it by being in the middle ))

She smiled, nice guy.

"I like my fish well done." She whispered across the table to Manion as Martin left, "The way I like my friends." She reached across and patted his hand, blushing and giggling a little.

Beth lifted an eyebrow as he paused, catching his eye. Had he listened to what she wanted? Would he order for her, take the gentleman's role?

Martin didn't even look at Beth for the moment, a similar question on his mind.

Gertrude brought the glass of milk out to the game room, something had happened in the kitchen and she didn't want to know. This Jack guy, he was becoming a regular, seemed nice enough. Way better than that sonofa her ex turned out to be.

Gemini had said she was looking into it, and being able to stay at the Shelter with Jing's help made all the difference. Two kids, pushing forty and not much besides a decent smile.

"You're chili will be a minute Jack, I hope you said you want the food spicy." She winked and set his glass down on a coaster.

((OOC: Kill off such an intersting character? Who do you think I am, Black Swan?))

"Good idea," she smiled. "If you want service around here, you have to know the tricks. Watch." She winked at him and picked up her fork, holding it some distance from the floor. She just released it.

It had hardly bounced the first time when a pair of shined, Italian leather shoes stopped within inches of it. Martin gazed at Beth with an almost bemused expression, all except the pouting lips.

"May I replace that for you, madam?" His tone was the same as if she had been any patron.

"I think we're ready to order, Martin. I haven't seen Candice..." she let that drift.

"No, there was an incident in the kitchen, someone has ordered the Chili," his tone spoke of boredom, but one eyebrow rose with meaning. Beth almost spit out her wine, getting a laugh around the grapes. Manion's expression brought a further explanation.

"Sir, one of the staff decided to try the Chili for doneness, he will not be back this evening. The infirmary has already dispatched a lorry." Beth was laughing, she had seen Gal try the Chili, and she was a stone tank, not fire.

"I shall take your dinner order." Martin's tone returned to it's usual level.

"Well," Gal leaned against the table, trying not to tower over her, and being a tower, failing. "Sib and D', they went to see a friend off on some trip, going to Portal, and something happened over there.

"Manager said there was a surge, and now...they're gone. Nobody seems to know where." She straightened the flowers, moved the silverware at the empty seat, fidgeted. "I've been tol' they're OK, by someone that wouldn' lie, but hearin' they work from someone like you. Makes it easier."

The tankers shoulders had been slumped lately, her sharp mouth less cutting. She missed her friend, the loft was quiet and empty, and she worried.

"I heard you say your troupe. There's more of you?" She was thinking about the Basketball game that might not work out. A phone call had said that Isis was tied up, maybe a movie deal, and she had the Mission prepped for some event in the future. What about a Carnival?

((OOC: Dollhouse, trusting me with Festi is like trusting my cat with easy open treats. If there was a chance the troupe would like to get some good press, maybe that could be arranged?))

Gertrude eyed the silverware, contemplating something lewd, then thought better of it. She did smile, the real kind that no waitress could fake. He looked rough, but no worse than a sheriff in Arizona, and one of those had been a great friend when she needed it.

"Hey, I didn't say I didn't like your hair. I just don't want my son seeing it or he'll want some just like it." She gave his shoulder a gentle shove in the direction of the game room.

"Gypsy's chili and a milk, done. Oh, it doesn't come in a bowl, that's American style, her's is just big pieces of cooked steak in her inferno sauce, the Old Country Way." Her accent was way off Gypsy's, but got the point across.

((OOC: Gypsy's Infernal Chili, with all thanks to Dragonlance.

This is a recipe about which it must be said,"If you can't stand the heat, stay out of the line of fire." Not to be confused with chili made with beans or hamburger, this is a meat entree for hose whose tongue, esophagus, stomach, and intestines are truly prepared for combat.

1 lbs. beef
2 tbsp flour

Marinade:
1 tsp Worcestershire sauce(tip of tongue)
2 tbsp paprika(center of tongue)
1 jar Dave's Insanity Reserve sauce(back of tongue)
1/2 tsp chinese hot oil(smoothes things out)
2 tsp crushed Habanero pepper(explosion!)


Prepare marinade: mix thoroughly. The effect of the marinade, for those brave enough to taste test it, should be a sensation of heat running along the tongue, culminating in an explosion at the back of the throat. If the sensation seems uneven, feel free to balance them.
Trim fat from beef and save. Cube beef into 1-inch squares; marinade in sauce 8 hours to 2 days in refrigerator. The longer the beef is marinated, the more shredded it will become upon cooking. If you wish the beef to remain cubed, marinate less than 24 hours; overnight is sufficient.
After meat has marinated, place it and marinade in pot or dutch oven over low heat for 2 hours. Stir occasionally to keep meat from sticking to bottom.
Rend fat to liquid in frying pan over low heat to use in a roux. If beef is too lean to produce 2 tbsp of liquid fat, bacon grease or lard may be used instead; mix thoroughly with 2 tbsp of flour.
After meat has stewed sufficiently, remove 1 cup of liquid from pot. Add liquid slowly to roux, blending thoroughly with whisk. Pour thickened sauce back in with meat and remaining juices; blend. This method will tend to shred meat more. Transfer to serving bowl.
Alternate sauce preparation: Strain all juices from meat. Slowly add juices to roux, blending thoroughly with whisk. Place meat in serving dish, and pour thickened juices over the top.
Each helping of meat should be served with a wedge of fresh lime to be squeezed over the meat mixture and a large dollop of sour cream to aide in the recovery of the tongue. A piece of bread, especially fried flat bread, may also help to cut the taste.))

The tiny bartender watched the man walk in. He looked almost as large as Gal, more muscular and even a darker shade. Lady Sharon was darker, but not by much. His English was precise though, studied.

"Sir, welcome to Ladies by the Lake. I am Narshawn, and I will be glad to serve you, but may I ask that you try our offerings before I bring the bottle?" Dropping a whole bottle, when someone might not care for it was not her style.

"We have several that rate the same proof: Fulton's Reserve, Everclear, Grappa di Verona, Goldschlager. All highly flammable. Should I bring a sampling?"

She did not want to offend, only be polite, smiling with her tiny teeth.

"Well, if it isn't Jack," Gertrude said with a wink as he wandered into the bar. "You want a table? I'm just heading to get another order placed, but if you know what you're having, I could wait." Her sly smile said she would.

"Nice hair, didn't think you did raves." She laid one hand tentatively on his arm, the way a semi-friend would.

((OOC: Flirty, flirty. Jack watch out for her, Gemini knows what goes on...))

"With me, you can pay anytime. It's Gal that has this thing about handsome men paying for meals. I expect it!" She laughed, batting her eyelashes once too many times to be playing. She did like him, maybe in a few months she would really like him, step two of her twelve step program.

"And asking Gertrude, I just wanted to see how you would react. Some people would have been put out, you said it was cool right off. That's good enough for me. I'll find out what's playing and then we can decide."

((OOC: Hey, Manion, have we eaten yet? Curse that kitchen!))

"Sir, you realize, liquor comes by the fifth," Narshawn laced her voice with innocence. "I can just break the neck off the bottle, some have handles." She smiled, not trying to offend.

Gertrude hid her smile behind the menu. "Steak, Gal's is known for them. Way better than InFront, they use horse from what I've heard. Be back in a few, and rare." She noted it on her pad.

((OOC: A man that knows what he wants, good on ya!))

The huge black woman carried a ridiculously small tray, a ceramic dish at it's center. Baked, she always baked a custard, unlike all these new-age fu-fu chefs and their cinnamon habanero junk.

"Miss Festival, Gypsy told me you have been to Portal, and I'm sorry ta' be so forward, but someone real close ta' me got lost there. I just want ta' know," she was very quiet, a deep sigh, "Do you know much about them?"

((OOC: Sibling, Gal's wife, is currently lost in another thread. They are fine, but just like someone who is worried, Gal would think maybe this person knows something, anything more. Sibling will be back, but of course Gal doesn't know that. Pardon me for intruding on you Dollhouse, but this works almost perfect with that story...))

((OOC: Sorry, had an early shift last night. Board Maint this morning, so I will have to answer after the boards come back up. Great posts, welcome back Jack!))