Magnus eyes grew wide with wonder at the sight of the ice womans crystal-like arm.
I am of this world, he replied. From a city called San Francisco. Are you familiar with it? Magnus finished his delicious soup and sopped the remaining drops with his last piece of bread. He felt much better after the comforting food.
The young man glanced around the bar area, and his eyes lingered on an attractive Caucasian hero about the same age as himself. Magnus natural instinct was to smile pleasantly, hoping to catch his attention, but that action was quickly smothered by an overwhelming sense of guilt and shame.
Magnus abruptly turned away and gulped the rest of his drink. Narshawn, he asked. Can I please have another drink? Perhaps something much stronger. He stared ahead blankly, his brow knitted in serious thought.
"Heh, don't apologize. I understand, training and all." He said, grabbing a piece of bread and trying not to look too amused with the situation.
["I'm sorry, she has an attitude. I don't think she'll last too long once Miss Gal gets back, she won't have that kind of thing. You don't mind? I have to say "Sir" when she's around, or she'll get too cocky.]
"Maybe she's just having first day jitters." he suggested. "Although it is a wierd way of showing it. I probably shouldnt ask her to recommend anything huh?"
["Still walking me home?"]
He pretended to stop and think about this for a moment, hiding his smile by chewing a piece of bread. "Hmmm... I think so. On one condition though," he said, putting on a mock serious face, "the Sir stuff stops when we get out the front door." He shook his finger at her when he said this, but was unable to hold back his smile anymore.
"Im sorry" he said "I dont mean to tease. Of course I will. I asked you remember? And you said yes. I should be asking if you will still let me."
(OOC: Sorry so late in response, holiday weekend and I was way too busy doing nothing.)
Wendy accepted Narshawns hand, and smiled. "I take your offer and am will be glad to call you friend." Wendy then proceeded to tell her story very similar to what she had told Alex before, but a little more freely because Narshawn would have a better chance of relating to her.
"So you see I am here as an observer and researcher. Um, I hope you will not take this offensively, but when I first saw you I assumed that you were an ice entity bound to a master in this realm. You see magic is very common place in my dimension, and one form that people use is summoning." Wendy looks sheepishly downward at the bar as she speaks. She truely doesn't want to offend Narshawn, but is enjoying sharing part of herself with the woman. "So I thought that you were summoned by the owner of the establishment. It was of course a mistake but it is all I am used to. Well, was, used to. I do hope you will forgive my faux pas.
((OOC: A little insight that I will hopefully be able to make clear over time is tht Wendy is evil. She is a character that I am developing in anticipation that we will be allowed to transfer the them over to CoV if we wish. The devistation of Earth in her dimension was her fault. She started a war to wipe out all the people in order to remake it in her image. Kind of a god complex. Anyways she failed to wip them all out, was caught and imprisoned on Earth. So when Portal Corp showed she seized the opportunity to come to a new Earth. What she didn't expect was for her powers to not work the same as they did in her dimension. Her first action was an attempt to seize control of Portal Corp, but she failed and badly hurt herself. That is why she is not as powerful. She has to relearn her powers. Ok, that is about it. Please don't use OOC info when interacting with the character. I just feel like I'm failing with this character and wanted to clarify. Thanks.))
Edit
OOC: Ok, um I should read all the threads and realize the bar closed. My bad.)
Shortly Wendy left, and then came back the next day to hopefully have a pleasant conversation with Narshawn. She entered through the bar this time. She has on billowy calf length dark beige pants and a white shirt with a neckline that started at her shoulders, with split sleeves and a tied waste. She wore her typical stilleto heels this time with straps that wound up her leg and tied off at the base of the pants. Her long hair was tied up with a scarf and sticks to sit on the back of her skull. Her sauntered up to the bar and took a seat, waving at Narshawn to say hello.
(OOC: I can fix anything)
Narshawn took in the man's sudden change of attitude. Her vision, much more in tune with the heat spectrum than a human's, also picked up the sudden flush of blood to his face and head. That she had learned was indicative of anger or embarrassment, but she could not tell which.
"You will pardon me for saying it, but my Mother has a saying," she hovered over to the strong liquors in no hurry, "Strong drink is a poor friend, and even poorer confidant. I will serve you what you like, but know that I can also listen better than a bottle."
"Yes, I know of San Francisco. In fact, I could describe it better than many residents, though I have never been there," she smiled shyly, handling a bottle the color of sunrise, an almost changing hue as the light struck it. "This liquor is from a monastery, renowned for their skills.
"I read, and remember, but my actual travels have never led outside the City."
The conversation pleased her, always hungry for knowledge. She was encyclopedic in her knowledge, and naive in her experience. She placed the chilled glass of rose colored liquid in front of Magnus.
((OOC: The liquor is a special derivitive from the Cloistered Monks outside a small town near Schnalls, Austria. It has some peculiar effects, one of them being no hangover but an alcohol content near 170 proof, and smells like anise. Narshawn will be slow to allow Magnus to get drunk, as any good bartender would be, but it is up to him.
In case you have not noticed, and if I suppose to understand where you are going, there is no judgement at Gal's. None of my characters is fit to judge anyone, and neither am I, so I welcome your posts. Magnus is always welcome here.))
"Recommend something? Honestly, she hasn't shown the least interest in the food, just sucking up to Martin." She gave a quick laugh, "And you can imagine how that works. I have to get back to the front, but I will check in. Just don't let her get to you."
She hesitated, unsure how to handle the odd situation. By way of being friendly, she nodded, and smiled.
*Too dreamy,* she thought.
((OOC: Candice is going to be the typical "I have better things to do" type, so react and give her reactions, accordingly.))
Narshawn waved back at the young woman, glad to see her again, someone she could relate to.
"I'm sorry," she said, drawing close and placing a glass before Wendy, "last night got so busy, I didn't see you go. I did not mean to ignore you." She smiled slightly, unsure if she had offended the woman. People outside had such delicate senses of propriety, and no hard rules like would have been present on The Island.
"No, a mistake can be forgiven. I am not typical, and things are very different here." She looked up and down the bar, "Many different beings.
"Magick, this is something I know of." Something she read of, and had seen. "I have no skill with it, but know many who do. Those draw their power from Gaia, or some link to Her. Is it the same where you are from?" It was apparent that she was genuinely interested, a realm of knowledge only available from the talented, no book could convey this.
"Pardon my asking," she intejected, "Knowledge is my passion."
((OOC: No problem Lusus, time travels differently here. 
))
"Gaia... interesting, but no I've never used that type of magic." She pressed a finger to her lips in thought. "Well to best describe the style of magic I use you would need to be able to use it also. I will do my best though. Lets see well each element in life has a thread. There are five. Fire, water, air, earth, and spirit. Now when you combine these threads together in a weave you can produce different results. Some weaves you create and then apply to an object, others will change as you create them, and still others will be used to create an object. Understanding how to create weaves is the basis for learning magic. However most people here can not see the threads I weave, but that is how it is done." She studied at Narshawn to see if she was understood by the woman. Smiling she quickly ordered. "Before you ask any questions can I talk you into making me a drink. Something fruity."
"Fruity," the ice woman placed a finger to her lips in a very human movement. "Perhaps a Banana Daquiri? Bananas have enough moisture I can take them, so I can say that this would be good."
She placed several items in view, waiting for the reply. "Weaving I also understand, though ornamentation and warmth are not my taste, so I have little use for it normally. I am interested."
"Sucking up to Martin? Wow, of all the people she could have picked. Good luck to her there." He said laughing.
"Don't worry I think I'll be ok. I don't mind if you check in though, will make the evening go by a lot nicer." He returned her smile, and didn't stop watching her as she went back to the front until Candice came to take his order.
"I think I'll have the Goulasch again tonight please." He said. When she paused and gave him a blank stare he remembered it wasn't an item on the posted menu. "Oh, sorry. Gypsy, the cook, made it for me last night. She'll know what you mean."
"And can I just have water to drink tonight also please." He had caught the small sigh she gave when he had explained about the goulasch and decided to try and keep it simple... no juice, no bar drinks. He wasn't upset, just a little leery.
As she left to go get his drink and place his order he thought about Beth again and smiled. "Its gonna take more than Candice to mess up my night." He thought to himself.
Candice spoke across the kitchen entrance, to someone inside, then wandered to the order entry stand. She stared at the terminal for a moment, then waved another woman over and they talked. The other woman carefully pointing to various things that Manion could not see from his perspective.
The swinging doors to the kitchens opened, and Gypsy stopped, glaring around the room, hands on hips. Her outfit was much the same as before, but the flared pants were a deep green and her blouse a rich brown, like melted chocolate. The long ponytail she wore wrapped around her neck and inside the front of her blouse, sleeves rolled up past her elbows and showing intricate black tattoos as far as her arms were visible. Candice responded to a question she asked, and the dark-skinned woman turned to see Manion.
"The nice young man!" She walked to his table, a weary smile on her face. "Was not sure who would ask for special tonight. Gal is gone, and kitchen is mad." She shook her head, tucking some stray hair into the plait.
"Beth speak about you, all day." She leaned closer, being conspiratorial, but louder then a whisper. The thick slavic accent only increased the feeling of some bad spy movie, but she was genuinely glad to see him. "I think she likes you, she is smart girl.
"You find the note, yes? Gal tells me to give you that. Sisters, we do not accept gifts, you understand?"
Some clatter in the kitchen caught her attention, and the look on her face was not pleased. "I will take care of you, a usual customer. See Beth is coming, must go see the disaster that is kitchen." She mumbled something to herself in a foreign dialect, and turned to go.
((OOC: So you know, those that are Sisters will not accept gifts or charity, but not all the staff are Sisters. Regular staff will accept tips and the like, and anything given to a Sister is divided up between the others later. Manion, your Goulasch will be good and spicy, lots of Hungarian Paprika, without Gal there to mediate Gypsy. )
Manion saw Gypsy coming across the room, she looked happy, but tired. She was obviously working very hard.
When she mentioned Beth, he couldnt stop from turning red again and looking down at the table smiling.
He was about to say something when the sound of pots and pans crashing came from the kitchen. "I hope I haven't been too much... trouble... tonight..." he said to her back as she left to go see what had happened. He wasn't sure if she had heard him.
Then a though occured to him. "Note? What note?" He thought about this for a second. He looked briefly over the table and didn't see a note. The only other place he could think of was his... jacket! "Of course, she must have put it there the other night when she took it, and I hadn't found it because Beth had my jacket last night." He thought to himself.
He checked his pockets and sure enough, he found a folded up piece of paper and some money. He remembered what Gal had said about paying, and putting that together with what Gypsy had just told him, he guessed why the money was there. He was pretty sure Beth would still have gotten her part of the tip, but he would ask her later just to be sure.
Then he opened up the note and read it.
["You are welcome anytime, no reservation necessary. Your face and disposition are good for business. Beth was smitten."]
He lingered over the last sentence for a moment, rereading it to be sure he wasn't seeing things. He couldn't have been more excited. He was hoping he could calm down a bit before Beth got back. He didn't want to giver her the wrong impression. He liked her a lot and didn't want to mess up by scaring her off.
Once again lost in his thoughts, he didn't see Beth coming to his table. He still had the note out, reading it. He was afraid to show her, and he didn't want to shove it in his pocket. Either option was a bad idea. One would probably embarass her, and the other would definitely look suspiscious.
So he decided to tell the truth and leave the rest up to her.
"Gal left me a note the other night. Gypsy left in my jacket and I just now found it." He didn't tell her not to read it, but didn't offer it either. He stopped and looked up at her again, waiting to see what she would say.
((OOC: Manion will give her the note if she asks for it, if not he will fold it up and leave it in front of him on the table. Oh, and good thing I ordered water to drink. 
))
Magnus accepted the glass and took a sip of the subtlety aromatic fluid. He raised his eyebrows in surprise and coughed a bit before saying, Wow, I wasnt prepared for such a strong beverage! He gave a little smile and took another furtive sip. But it has a nice flavor. Thank you.
The pink-hued drink intrigued Magnus, as did Narshawns offer to listen to him. He was trying his best to control his emotions; if he started sharing his problems with this petite woman, would he end up re-living the pain and break down? Yet, Magnus sensed a strange mixture of naivete and detached wisdom within the icy Narshawn. She seemed to have a sympathetic ear and a genuine interest in his tribulations. Perhaps unburdening some of his troubles would make him feel better.
The blue-haired man lowered his eyes. Thank you for offering to listen, Narshawn. He took another sip. I
he stumbled. I was
am
an only child, and was raised by my paternal grandmother. Shes my only family, and I love her so much. He glanced at Narshawn and took some comfort in her patient attentiveness. She passed away one week ago.
Magnus felt his eyes well up with sorrow, but tightened his jaw and refused to shed more tears. I believe that, he stammered in a hoarse whisper, I am responsible for her death.
Beth didn't move to take the paper, it would be rude. That Gal would write him a note, well, she would do that.
"Gal...she's kind of protective." The young woman glanced at the floor. "My real mom, she doesn't come around, and Gal sort of, well, she takes care of me." There was a quietness in her voice, a very young woman's mannerism.
"Sorry," she said, clearing her throat and looking back up from the floor. "Shouldn't have talked so much, have to make sure Martin is keeping up. I'll be back in a little while."
She glanced over one shoulder to the podium. It was a fairly quiet night, not as much business as usual, but she figured that was good, with Gal gone. She could occassionally hear Gypsy in the kitchen, and thought it was good she didn't speak Romanian.
((OOC: Beth may act like a teenager sometimes, Manion, but she is mid-twenties. She just lost some of her growing up time being on the streets, and the dating and relationship thing is awkward. And, Gal has no children (she's married to Sibling, that wouldn't work) so she mothers to her employees, in a kind way.))
Wendy tilted her head to the side. "Um, maybe I wasn't as clear as I thought." She paused for a minute thinking, then seeing that Narshawn was waiting for a yes or no on the daquiri quickly replied. "Yes, the daquiri sounds good. Give me a sec to figure out how to explain this." She was sure there was an easy way to explain this, she just needed some time to think it through. Her eyes climbed to the ceiling as she pondered this issue.
---------------------------------
Jack slipped in through the bar door and quietly grabbed a seat at one of the tables. Pulling it back he slung his jacket onto the back and dropped himself down into the seat. It had been a quiet last couple of days and he was full of energy. He eyed the pool tables with a longing for someone to play with. Glancing around his eyes seeked Gertrude.
"Beth," he said, lightly placing his hand on her forearm to get her attention. "dont apologize, you dont talk too much, not enough in my opinion, and I mean that in a good way." He paused for a moment.
"And if it helps any, I know what you're trying to say. I've been through it too. I just wish I had someone like Gal in my life back when I really needed it. You're very lucky. She loves you a lot, she made that very clear to me last night." He smiled, and laughed a little.
"If you have to go I better let ya. I don't want Martin to get upset with you."
"Oh, and one more thing. Gal gave me back some money with the note. You did get the tip I left you right? I know... its a silly question, but I just wanted to make sure."
She heard the statement, that he blamed himself for the death of this woman. She was no counselor, especially for this type of grief. Her mentor, Lady Gemini, she was much more suited, but he was here, now. Sisters were trained to provide solace to any that came looking, so she would do her best.
"Then I grieve with you. Cold comfort, perhaps, but even the least of us carries the possibility of great things. It is said, among my Sisters, that nothing endures forever, not the seas or the sky. I would think that this woman was great in your heart, with such bonds of family," she stood away from him, but focussing on her words, not allowing distractions.
"If this is true, then still she is great, perhaps greater even than before, because now there is only her spirit. She is no longer fettered by weariness or age, and is always with you. speaking to you." The tiny woman could feel loss, but could never comfort another with a touch, no matter that he might need some physical comfort, even the touch of a friendly hand.
"If you listen, what she has said can still be heard. As to what has parted you from her, I cannot judge. Looking at you, I doubt this, but will listen to you."
She purposely put the bottle back on the shelf, out of easy reach, then returned and hovered, waiting patiently.
((OOC: Realize that Narshawn is made of ice, but is not without emotion. Her face would convey concern, and worry. The Sisters would never brush off such an event, but death is understood and part of their faith. She would not say it, but she believes it to be another step on the path to peace, and her responses would indicate she believes the dead can still walk among the living.))
Sighing to herself, she trudged up the road in King's Row, barely noticing the condition of the neighborhood around her. She'd fought so many villians here that she tuned it out now. Something new caught her eye, though... A sign, for a restaurant and bar, that seemed out-of-place in this run-down area.
"Ladies of the Lake?" Well, she figured she could stand to use a drink, and possibly a snack before she turned in.
She walked up to the door, pushed it open, and entered. Immediately she was caught by the aura in this place; calm, friendly, and definetely smelling of good food. She also noticed someone standing at a podium, so she turned to him to find out more about this place...
"Greetings, sir. I was wondering if the bar is open now, and if so, could I get a drink and possibly a light snack?"
Her speech is rather cultured, as is her appearance. She stands about 7 feet tall, with a slim build. Her Egyptian-style headdress adds to her height. She's wearing a long-sleeved tight top, flared pants, a long flowing cape, and boots. Her coloration is the most striking feature about her, however; everything is white, with fading black stripes running in bands around her. Her skin is pitch-black, with glowing white eyes that seem to see everything around her.
As she speaks with the man behind the podium, she automatically takes out her ID and presents it; although still rather new to the intricacies of society, she has learned that whenever asking for alcohol, she must show this card. The name on the card reads "Hand of Ma'at"...
TOONS: COH: Hand of Ma'at, Voltrana, Eve of All Hallows, Fith-Fath, Miss Sonic, Dame Death, Corporate Shadow /// COV: Sister Skull, NyghtShayde, Mourning Gory, Mistress Mayham, Lady StormDancer
SERVER: Justice (Main SG: The Honor Guards) (Main VG: The Chaos Corps)
GLOBAL: LadyStormDancer
Falcon Kitiara had awakened in the afternoon's first hour, as grateful (as every morning) for the soft touch of the covers and mattress as only someone having slept for years on hard soil can be; after all she had gone to sleep at dawn's first lights, no wonder she had awakened so late. She had stretched herself, smiling: it had been a wonderful evening. Steve had been a perfect gentleman, respectful and courteous. She acknowledged that she could be wrong and his behaviour could be perfectly common, but somehow she doubted it.
Then something dawned on her mind and she had jumped out of bed hastily, running into the shower and opening the water without waiting for it to warm up: the Task Force! Manticore had asked for her help and the fighting group she was in had agreed to help her with that. She had washed quickly, had eaten two scrambled eggs with bacon, and had ran out of her little house.
She loved doing Task Forces, she always ended up doing great things for the city when she fought for a member of the Freedom Phalanx. However, in the end, she always felt so tired she thought her arms would fall down separated from the rest of the body.
Sword up, sword down, slashing, hacking, jumping and rotating her blade around her like a whirlwind of pain, lifting up the blade and smashing it on the head of the enemies with all the weight of her body and strenght of her arms. Running around, protecting blasters and controllers, then running again to reach the nearest enemy. All this multiple times, a hundred? A thousand? ten thousand times? For hours and hours.
Plus, that stupid heroine had enchanted her with a Speed Boost spell; Kitiara's enhanced reflexes allowed her to go fast as the lightning without need of a boost, so before she knew that, she had run against a wall, hit her head at almost 100mph and almost fainted from the blow, blood running on her face. Her metal headpiece probably had saved her life. Her fighting group's members had sympathized with Kitiara: they knew what a burden could Speed Boost be.
But now here she was. Shining new Manticore badge, shining new ID attesting her new security level, sword dripping blood, pale face showing the signs of tiredness, her leather fighting clothes dripping blood and power armor oil. Luckily the clothes were treated with bees wax to preserve them from water. This made cleaning them much easier.
She lifted her head towards the dark sky: night already. She felt hungry and tired, but sleep could wait.
She had done her part for the day. She could very well afford something to eat at Gal's: all of those missions had left her with lots of influence on her credit card. How much exactly for the task force alone, she didn't know. 500.000? More?
She shrugged. She was a rich woman. Her thought wandered to another rich woman: Countess Crey. She had never seen her face to face, and never cared for her before today.
Falcon had seen the archvillain Hopkins, if this was his name. She was so tired, perhaps she was confusing his name with someone else's. She had collected some infos on this Hopkins before attacking him, to check his skills and his background; she had been amazed by what she had found. He was the second in command at crey's, but also something more for the Countess. He was always at her side, ready to sacrifice his life for the Countess', never getting too far from her; a life dedicated to another person.
Perhaps he was in love?
Plus, he was bald. And she had hitted him with less strenght that she should have, perhaps...
She shook her head: didn't know if it was fatigue or something else, but she should've really stopped with those thoughts. Steve wasn't Hopkins and she wasn't Countess Crey, that's for sure.
However, she was still dripping with blood, and perhaps it would've been better to have a bath before entering Gal's place; an idea came to her mind: she flew to Talos island, taking the Kings Row - Skyway - Talos route, and when she found a place where the water was clean, she plunged headfirst in the sea.
The salty water washed away blood and sweat and oil from her headpiece, her skin, her metal shoulderpads and her clothes; feeling the cold bite of the water against her skin she instantly felt less tired, the shock awakening her. She then flew outside the water and went back to Kings Row, the speed of her flight drying her better than a towel.
Falcon landed in front of Gal's place, and went in, smiling a grateful sigh as the warm air inside the place caressed her cold skin: she neared the Podium, waiting patiently for Martin...
[OOC boy, Manticore TF was funny, but I hate being speed boosted without the caster asking for my permission, really. I always bounce from walls. :P
Kitiara's fighting clothes are the leather ones she wore the first time she went to Gal's place: leather pants, leather brassiere, black cape with twin yellow lightnings, yellow metal winged headpiece, long black gauntlets with yellow lightnings on it. Only change: new boots. The old leather folded ones have been substituted by new combat boots, black, folded as well.
So her clothes are clean, but she seems (and is) cold, and her face remains tired ]
[OOC2: man, but is this post LONG!]
"Couldn't stay away?" Gertrude gave Jack a wink as she passed by, carrying several bowls of snacks and some long necks to the pool area. "I'll be right back to take your order."
She returned a few moments later, the tray under one arm.
"Nice to see you back, thought you slipped out the other night. What can Ladies provide you tonight?" Her smile wa warm, and with Narshawn occupied, she thought she might get some time to chat with him.
((OOC: She's an NPC, so if you want, you can give her some reactions and let her interact with Jack some. She would be interested in Jack's story, and Jack, like a flirty waitress type. There are a few poeple in the pool room, if he decides to head in.))
"Tip? We all got bonuses the first night, but Gal may have misunderstood the gesture. She'd probably give back whatever money you gave her, maybe by mistake. If you tip, you should do it with the bill," she smiled, knowing that Gal had pretty much gien away the first night's food. "If you get a a bill."
"I'll talk to Candice, she can move to another section and I can take over here. Besides," there was some problem a few tables away, an older man talking to Martin about his food, but she could not tell what he said exactly. "That would be the third time tonight someone complained. I don't think Martin will have problems with the change.
"I'll go see what that's about and be back." Smoothing her blouse, she walked to Martin and the patron. Candice had just slipped into the kitchen, also aware something was awry.
"Good evening, madam," the stiff Englishman took in the woman quickly, even Martin could be impressed by such a sight. It did not reach his lips, but his eyes appreciated her striking appearance.
"Yes, the bar is open and well stocked. If I may say so, you looked quite striking this evening," he motioned to the short hall leading to the bar, taking the woman there personally. "Your choice of color and style compliments your complexion. I will envy Narshawn her patron."
((OOC: Narshawn has several people at the counter tonight, but we can imagine she has time for each and every one. If Hand of Ma'at chooses to sit at a table or the bar, she will get personal attention, no matter the other patrons. She sounds very interesting, very unique, very welcome!))
"Miss Falcon, it appears we have the pleasure of several lovely young women this evening." Martin was refering to the young woman who had just entered the bar, tall and dressed in white. "You appear to have been tested today, so perhaps a table near the fire? The Sister that tends to the furniture has been working on something more cozy for a brandy or glass of fine wine." He directed her gaze to the fireplace across the room.
Since Gal had seen several patrons watching longingly as the flames danced in the brick fire grate, she had asked Lady Thorn, the Arborist, to place a few more intimate tables there. Small round pedestals, made from a different species of tree, sprouted, literally, from the floor, creating a small space that one coudl enjoy the fire and still have room for food on the surface. Not as large as the regular dining tables, they were perfect for drinks or polite conversation, away from the bustle of the room.
"We have just received an excellent Bordeaux, should wine be to your taste. Were you expecting others this evening, or would you care to be seated immediately?" His eye caught several tell-tales in her stance, she would like to sit and she would like to warm up.
The two tables, always reserved with brass placards, near the raised cooking platform had glasses and silverware set tonight, but no visitors yet. A young woman, dressed in deep blue and with a scarf over her head, carried items to and fro, placing flowers and seats. A large vase of hyacinths stood in the center of one table.
((OOC: Falcon, with time acting so strange here, you have to give me a hint. Falcon told Steve three days, is that tonight? If not, there will be some excitement for you anyway, and maybe some interesting characters coming in after a while. First full moon in phase of the year, and the Sisters celebrate.))
"Ahh, well. If I get a bill is right. But considering mine keeps getting 'lost' how am I ever supposed to tip you?" He smiled, knowing that the bills werent really lost, but playing along anyway.
"Martin wouldn't be the only one." he said with a smile. "I'd much prefer your company, but I cant keep you all to myself." His smile was cut short as he watched the exchange between Martin and the other patron. "To be honest she kinda makes me... well uneasy for lack of a better word."
"Heres a thought. Why don't you keep her here to cut down on the complaints. I'm pretty patient and it would take a lot for her to really get to me. As much as I'd love to have you here all night I'd hate to see Gal lose business over one bad egg. Plus having her in one spot would make it easier to keep an eye on her." Part of him hoped she would say no and take over for Candice, but another part of him wanted to take the brunt of it all for everyone else.
He wasn't sure what was going on, but in all the nights he had been here he'd never had a bad feeling. The way everyone was acting tonight though made him uneasy, and he wasn't about to ignore that. Even if nothing was going on and he was just being paranoid, at least he could offer to try and help soften the damage Candice seemed to be doing until Gal came back to staighten things out.
"Sweet of you to offer yourself as the lamb," Beth said, leaning toward the exchange. "I'll see what Martin says, she could end up in the kitchen, and Gypsy would have a fit." A smile crossed her lips, and a sly squint crossed her eyes.
"There's a group coming in in a while, making some of the staff nervous. Gal's gone, but the group couldn't wait, it's some special night for them. Guests from Gal's home, from what I've heard, and high ranking in the hero business. Don't let them bother you."
She hustled over to Martin, trying to calm the customer.
"Sir," Beth stopped with his bread basket, an older woman following along and looking somewhat bored, " this is Candice, she is just starting. If you do not mind, she will take your order." Beth winked at Manion.
The other woman was about 30-ish, black hair and a thin smile. She spoke with a Boston accent, one of those that only exist in one place on earth, and the attitude to match. Beth pulled an apologetic face when she wasn't looking, hoping Manion would put up with her.
"Good evening, sir..." and she proceeded to read back the specials of the evening, as though from a card in her head, very little enthusiasm. "I will get your mushroom platter, while you consider the main course."
She walked back to the counters, and Beth stepped closer for a moment.
"I'm sorry, she has an attitude. I don't think she'll last too long once Miss Gal gets back, she won't have that kind of thing. You don't mind? I have to say "Sir" when she's around, or she'll get too cocky.
"Still walking me home?"