Sibling

"If I wanted to see someone fight, I'd wait for payday and watch Gal try to give Martin his check." A laugh told Manion this was not something the stodgy Maitre 'D took willingly. "She may be big, but Marty has a tongue and wits you won't see unless you irk him. Never enough to be rude, but after about five minutes, you realize he just whipped you."

"Nah, no interest in this hero fighting nonsense. You want to go out to something, talk to me about a good concert, or that big movie they are hyping all over town." She thought for a moment, looking into space, "Fifth Column something. I could ask Gertrude if she wanted to come, too, she doesn't get much time to go out." There was a quirk to her eyebrow, a look from the corner of one eye, almost like she was waiting for an answer.

((OOC: You play the tune, all I know how to do is dance ))

"Heroes pounding other heroes? What's up with that? I didn't know you guys had feuds, I mean, professional wrestling and all, that's all show. One of those guys with like laser breath or like Gemini with a sword...couldn't somebody get killed?

"There aren't enough freaking thugs to fight in town now?" She wasn't agitated with Manion, and quickly added, "I didn't mean you, but what about all the others. Kids look up to heroes, shouldn't they? I guess there's a lot we don't know about some people, and I'm glad to hear you say you don't want to do it."

((OOC: Heroes vs Heroes...Grrr. Don't get me started. Oh, I started it....Thanks for playing to my tune, Manion. ))

*Surprise?* she thought, *Odd that a man would come into a bar full of people who looked like a Star Wars convention and ask for surprise.* Star Wars had been her first movie, and that in re-runs at the small Bijou near Extech in Talos Island.

She pulled four bottles from the shelf, and a tall glass used for Long Island Ice Tea, then a glass pipette, similar to a large straw. She liked to try new things, and had been practicing this one.

1 oz. White Rum
1/2 oz. Creme de Noyeaux
1 1/2 oz. Sweet and Sour Mix
1/2 oz. Triple Sec
1 1/2 oz. Orange Juice
1/2 oz. Bacardi 151 Proof Rum

First the 151, poured in, then she pulled some OJ into the straw, carefully draining it onto the surface of the liquor and freezing it at the same time, until it made a visible layer, then the Creme, again freezing it with her hand placed around the glass. That was three layers, followed by the white rum, more OJ and freezing, Triple sec and then the sour mix. When she was finished, the drink looked like a sandwich of various colors, all separated by frozen creme or OJ, since the liquors would not freeze. In a moment, it would thaw, but surface tension would keep the liquors separated until he either hoisted it or stirred it.

She ended with a flourish, a slight bow of her head to him, as Gertrude delivered a menu. Her smile was incredulous, no bartender without frozen hands could do that on the spot.

"No diesel fuel, but this should start you out."

((OOC: Never seen one of these? The real bartenders use LN2 to freeze the OJ in the glass, and it costs a pretty penny, but The Heathman in Portland can do it.))

"Hard Liquor? We have all types," the tiny woman motioned behind the bar to the well-lighted stock. "With taste or without." She smiled impishly.

"Perhaps something unique? Absynth or Grappa, served ice cold would surprise you."

((OOC: Dollhouse, who would have thought? What can I say, great women think alike? And I refer to CJ and yourself, not myself ))

((OOC: Manion, a sensitive hero, wonder of wonders! No wonder Lady Liberty and Azuria go on about you so!))

Beth looked up quickly, expecting some grin or insincere expression. To her surprise, Manion's face held a simple honesty. That in itself was enough to make her smile, not a happy grin, but a satisfied smile.

"I think we both know that life is hard, at least I found someone that cares," she finished, then realized how that sounded, and sputtered out, "Gal, I mean I found Gal and she cares."

*Sure,* she thought to herself, embarrassed, *go ahead and make him think you're a leech*.

"I know someone who would say things last as long as they should. She'd also tell me to know when to shut up and just be content. No more heavy talk. Have you seen that whole Colliseum thing they're building downtown? Haven't been in, looks like it might cost a little, but it must be something to see."

((OOC: Manion, you're my hero...swooon. ))

"Wow, getting all philosophical on me." A hint of sadness in her voice. "Nothing lasts forever, but you have to live the good times while they do." A melancholy set in, the wine was a little less sweet, the fire a little less warm. She stared into the glass, watching the crushed grapes swirl as her hand slowly moved the crystal.

"Manion," she said after a moment, "I really appreciate these minutes you find for me. I can forget that there's more to life than work and laundry, and it feels good to know somebody enjoys my company, too."

She leaned back in the chair, head slightly down and thinking to herself. She didn't want to ruin the evening, so she pinned a smile on, but it didn't reach her eyes. It was an internal conflict, trying to actually believe in this happiness and being wary of it at the same time.

((OOC: Nice death Manion, but it must be hard to kill your character. I am considering it with Sibling, but man, that will be tough.))

"Mary sat musing on the lamp-flame at the table
Waiting for Warren. When she heard his step,
She ran on tip-toe down the darkened passage
To meet him in the doorway with the news
And put him on his guard. 'Silas is back.'" Beth spoke slowly, methodically, in meter. Smiling, she finished and tipped her glass to the hero.

"I didn't expect it, but Frost suits you. If you rectie some of the passages, I might know the book." She shrugged, blushing, "Poetry is good for you."

"Then there were three there, making a dim row,
The moon, the little silver cloud, and she.
Warren returned-- too soon, it seemed to her,
Slipped to her side, caught up her hand and waited." She finished, hoping that some of the meaning would be heard.

Narshawn left Betty and Basilisk to their chat, refilling the dark man's glass and serving Betty her choice. A new gentleman had motioned to her, tall and looking like he needed a drink.

"Good evening, sir." The mist from her cold breath drifted with her words. "I am Narshawn, the bartender, and welcome to Ladies by the Lake. If you care for dinner, we serve the full menu. Gertrude will be by with one in a moment." She looked towards the pool room, where the waitress had just disappeared.

"Would you care for a drink, first?" She hovered, small waves of frost drifting below her to the floor.

((OOC: Welcome there Buck, pull up your stool, be careful of the living bar, and have a drink!))

((OOC: Girl, you bring your issues, that's what a bar is for!

Short of time, more later. You are certainly welcome, and I really Like Betty!))

"Okay, since you asked," Beth challenged, "what's the best book you've read in the last three months?"

She savored the really good wine, small talk and company.

((OOC: Awww, you'll make me blush. Besides, I just put up the sign, you keep the doors open.))

"Fun?" She thought for a minute.

"Well, I like to read...lots." She looked a little sheepish. "I pick up whatever looks good and read it through, you know. Classics, Sci-Fi, Fantasy...I read a really good one by Richard Clarke, some political stuff, but I try to stay away from that." Now her grin slid to one side.

"Don't get into politics with Gal, or Martin," she whispered conspiratorially. "Those two can go at it all night.

"Anyway, my favorite author is probably Cherry. She knows Sibling, I even got her to sign my collection of Foreign titles."

((OOC: No, her real name is not Cherry and the books are not titled that, but I don't want to get on her bad side. You Sci-Fi types know who I'm talking about, and she is without doubt, my favorite author in the genre. Baichi-Ji.))

"Portal Corp," the dark woman spoke it like a curse. In her home, she would have spit on the floor because of the ill omen the name carried.

"Then you are also victims of their foolishness." Whatever had aggitated Gypsy, her tone was not angry towards Festival. Here, she had found someone who understood the Carnival, she visibly calmed herself.

"Mistress Gal, she has partner who has been to this Portal, who is now missing because of them. You understand these things." The menu was forgotten, she went from aggitated to excited. "Would you speak to her?"

((OOC: Black Swan, aye lass, Sibling knows Black Swan. The witch's pin feathers hang in the twin's loft, she is one tough chick. She found out you do not mess with Angela, or you answer to Cliff.))

"Sure, save me some time, and knowing my cat she would eat until she couldn't move."

Maybe heroes weren't all about saving the world. From the way they ran around the city, you'd never know they had lives. Most of them seemed so one dimensional, she had seen more life in Gertrude's kids' Playstation games.

She heard it on the tram, walking to the restaurant, even at the grocery store. Some bulky guy in tights asking another about sidekicking for Expee. They spoke a foreign language, some of them, complaining about Debt or something she figured was a drug, this 'PL' they all wanted.

Well, maybe not all. Manion seemed like a really nice guy, she knew Gypsy and Gal worked hard for their living, Gal had arguments with her 'wife', Sibling, she had seen Falcon and Steve holding hands the other night. Some of them seemed like real people, even the brightly colored woman speaking to Gypsy now, she seemed somehow more alive than the mass produced heroes elsewhere.

She smiled at Manion, a satisfied smile that might not be understood, but fit. On further thought, she raised her glass, just recently filled by Martin who had swept away used plates and brought fresh bread unseen.

"Manion," she ventured, somewhat recklessly for her, "A toast to Real People." She held her glass across the table.

((OOC: Here is my tribute to you, the RP-ers of the world, for making this thread, and many others, fun. There are those who don't, and I say "To Halo with you!" I love this thread ))

Gertrude had returned from the kitchen, her tray empty and tucked under one arm. She took note that the rather...unique, looking woman was conversing with the tall gentleman with scaley arms. *Good tips* she chanted silently, *They leave good tips*.

She didn't want to disturb them, and Narshawn was paying close attention. Martin could have wheeled an elephant through in a baby carriage, dressed in drag, but Gertrude was not that skilled. She bumped Betty's elbow with the menu, then moved on.

((OOC: Curse you Board Maintenance!))

"I am Romanes," she stated as though that explained everything. She unfastened several decorative buttons on her left sleeve and drew the thick fabric back, exposing a dark olive-skinned arm covered in intricate tattoos. On the inside of her forearm, near the elbow was one great emblem, prominent among the others.

A stylized wagon wheel, with 24 spokes done in exquisite detail, seemed to glow with it's own light. All the other patterns flowed towards, or away, from it.

"I was first daughter to the Kak," she rolled the sleeve back down. "My own mother birthed me, while we traveled. I learned the laws from my father's hand. And now, I am last of my tribe." She watched the woman juggle and thought back to some of the lessons her father had taught his sons, but not his daughters. She could recall watching with longing, but some skills were passed only on the male side.

"I remember the tents well. But how does your troupe come here?" The families were scattered, that in her history was clear, part of their survival strategy. Her Grandmother had lived through the Holocaust, literally hiding in the Carpathian Mountains for almost a decade as the Nazi's hunted them. Finding a like soul, especially here, was fate.

((OOC: The Kak is Romani for chief, and her family would have lived somewhere near Slovenia, hence the thick accent. Proud of her past, if she thinks Lili is one of her people, even in spirit, you can be sure the entire troupe will be invited for dinner. Nice story, Dollhouse. I love tragic figures, the misunderstood heroine, the symbolism of the children. Magnifique!

Sorry, French is not a tongue I speak but certainly appreciate!))

"The food is good, yes?" Gypsy was passing by, and paused when she noticed the woman dabbing her eyes. "I hope not too spicy."

She seemed about to say something else, a quiet that did not fit the situation, then reconsidered. She motioned, then gathered up the empty dishes. Before she left, she asked about the dessert menu, nodding to Festival that she would bring one.

When she returned, the menu in one hand, she did ask.

"You wear clothing that fits with the traveling life, excuse my asking. Are you been with a Carnival?" The last word came out slightly butchered, but there was curiosity in her eyes.

((OOC: Yes, Gypsy did mispronounce the sentence, she is not a native English speaker, and she bears no animosity against the Carnival. She is not accusing, only asking, and depending on the answer, she will explain. Glad the dinner was to your liking!))

"I'm sure that the heroes have plenty to do with Rikti running around in downtown Founders, let alone some penny-ante thugs in my neighborhood. I just call them in, write the City." Her tone indicated it wasn't any big deal. "I see heroes going in the building all the time, police tape for a day or two, then the Hellions are back in there. It's almost like it's a game."

She noticed the brightly-colored woman in the carnival outfit, looking contentedly at her plate. *Now that is style* she thought.

"If you ever think about getting a pet, don't get a smart one. My cat can get into almost anything, I keep waiting for the day I come home and she's using the can opener."

((OOC: Almost like a game, or almost like real life???))

"How much wine did you drink before I sat down?" She asked playfully. "Gorgeous. I've seen some of those super-women, some of them have super parts, too..."

She let that drop, pursing her lips and making a 'pish' noise. She knew that even with the splurge on the Vic's Secret Miracle, her front was flat like Kansas. She had tried to convince Manion, but he still seemed interested, or at least he kept saying she looked good. He certainly looked good. Well, it had only been a couple days since they met, maybe he was in a slump.

"Me? My exciting day was finding out my cat had managed to get into the cabinets and discovered the cat food bag. She also figured out how to tear it open and spread the stuff all over. So I had to buy a big tupperware, clean it all up and hide it. I stopped at Sheherazade for a couple things, which made it lunch. Ironing and writing a letter to the City about that Hellion dive down the block...Oh, and I spent an hour on the stairwell, I swear I'm the only one that cleans in that building." She was lost in her account, then realized she was being boring.

"Uh, yeah. Exciting, huh?"

"Gal is well known for her steaks, but I don't eat much red meat." Beth dropped the menu slightly, getting control of her cheeks. "She usually has the staff sample everything before she opens the doors, at least what they can eat. If someone asks about a dish, you can tell them because you've had it."

She was trying very hard not to meet Manion's eyes, every time she did, she felt like staring. Even under the jacket, his shoulders and arms were defined. His hair was well cared for, some strays near his right ear, but that was only cute, one of those characteristics that made him seem even more handsome.

"I will probably have the salmon, a little piece. The way people in this town eat, I don't see how they stay in their clothes. If I ate that way, I'd be fat," she shrugged, "or fatter, anyway.

"So, besides taking people like Council and Skulls to jail, what did you do today?" Her innocent question carried a lot more weight than she wanted to let on. She was around heroes like Gal and Narshawn, but they spoke to each other in strange phrases, inside jokes about Toadstools and Puppy Dogs. She thought it must be a hero thing, something the average person wouldn't understand.

Maybe Manion would be the same, most of his daily routine going over her head. Her life would be pretty uninteresting by contrast, working at Gal's, doing laundry down the hall, groceries, visiting her PO. That alone was her most dreaded task, but at least for the next few years, her calendar had that marked, twice a month.

She smiled, hoping she could compete with the derring-do of a hero's life.

((OOC: Shame, Manion, where do you think Gal learned to use a cooking knife like that? Not everyone uses a 12" Wusthof Trident for fine work!))

"Martin's suggestion sounds wonderful, but I am no wine expert." She blushed, unsure why, but Manion's attention could be it. "Do I look OK?" She brushed at the dress self-consciously.

She noticed the rose when Manion helped her sit down, holding the chair like a gentleman. Looking around, she realized it was the only one, and blushed again. From under her eyelashes, she was snatching looks at him, and wasn't sure if he was wearing aftershave, or if he just smelled nice.

"You look very nice," she mumbled, feeling foolish and quickly burying her reddening face in the menu, as though she couldn't recite the entire offering from memory.

*For goodness sakes, act like a grown woman!* her little voice inside called. *Hey, he's hot...* it sounded suddenly interested. She sighed and suppressed a delighted giggle.

((OOC: Bah, subscribe to Phillipine Knife Fighting, way better. ))

((OOC: Verizon is back at it, so if you post and don't see a response from us before tomorrow, blame them. Otherwise, we will be watching!))

((OOC: See? SEE why Sibling shreds their receipts from the club? We mean, what receipts? That was for groceries...lol))

((OOC: What can I say, Vegas IS thorough.))

"Good evening, sir." Martin looked Manion over, like an appraiser at a Christie's auction. "I believe Miss Beth is currently indisposed, but we have your table waiting. Please follow me."

His dour smile, resembling the tempered face of a long-suffering uncle, lead them to a table, near the front picture windows. Watching the people traffic in this part of town was a form of entertainment, since the old theatre up the street had been refurbished, and some plays were being shown. There was a bundle of fresh Hyacinth in the tall vase, a small candle setting.

Martin passed between the table and Manion, blocking his view for a moment. Almost magically, when he was clear, the vase was empty and the flowers nowhere to be seen.

"Perhaps Sir would care to freshen the rose in the vase?" His word was 'vaaase'. "I would recommend the Viudas eighty-three to start, as Miss Beth proclaims it one of her favorites, but the L'Ecole forty-one is equally refined." He held out Manion's chair, "Suggestions only, sir. I would not presume to think I knew wine better than you."

Across the room, Beth swept out of the office area's door, a little wobble in her heels. She quickly compensated and glanced around, seeing no one at the podium. Martin did not turn, could not have seen her.

"I believe that Miss Beth is arriving now, sir. May I escort her to the table?"

((OOC: How DOES he do that? Fine English Butlers and Servants take pride in their ability to make magic happen.))

[ QUOTE ]
She placed the arm beside her on the bar and appeared to be contemplating it intently as she waited for the bartender to take her order.

[/ QUOTE ]

Narshawn glanced over from the man she was speaking to, noticing the metallic object on the bar. A moment later, Gertrude noticed it as well, and the various sharp or jagged components jutting from it. The waitress winked at Narshawn, and removed the white and blue-striped bar towel from her waitress' post.

"Good evening, Miss," Narshawn excused herself from the man for a moment, catching the towel in midair. "I am Narshawn, and I am certain Martin intoduced you to Ladies by the Lake. Would you care to put that on a towel, I would hate for some drink or moisture to cause corrosion. The wood is alive and contains a large amount of water." She deftly flipped the towel out to lay next to it.

"Will you care for a beverage, or perhaps Gertrude can get you a dinner menu?" The ice woman gazed at the arm, then at Betty, with a small, hopeful smile.

((OOC: Betty, you sly lass. ))

"Gal," Beth caught her boss's eye, approaching the grill. "I'm going to get changed, Manion should be here soon. She blushed, Gal looking on with a knowing smile.

"You get your butt off the clock, girl. I tol' you we weren't tha' short. Use the office ta' change." The tanker was happy that someone like the young man had shown an interest in Beth. Vegas had checked out his story, his clearance, his place. Gal had called a stop when the scrapper head of security had mentioned something about his garbage.

Beth walked quickly to her locker, pulling out the dress, as ironed as she could make it. The office was just down the hall, and opening the door, she saw Vegas was elsewhere. The girl hung her dress from the hook on the door, pressing the button on the handle. The office was small, and someone opening the door could be painful. Halfway through her changing, she had to move a small box from the one chair to make room for her work clothes, her name was penned on the lid.

Curious, she peeked inside, a small piece of paper laying over the contents and pulling the note out, she saw a bracelet of blood red stones.

Beth,
You can't refuse a gift without hurting my feelings. I think this will look nice with your dress.
Gal

She stared at the gems, they couldn't be real. Once dressed, she admitted, it did look nice. Now all she needed was Manion to complete the night.