"Simply by the numbers of liquors in stock, it would take me several days simply to serve them all properly," the tiny ice woman said, matter-of-factly. She maintained a distance, he seemed talking to himself almost more than to her.
"Our winelist is rather truncated, in actuality. Martin could recite them all for you, but many do not appear on the listing." Narshawn could settle into a lecturing mode if allowed to. The soft tinkling of her voice had a calming effect, the mist from her voice slowly sinking towards the floor as she spoke.
"Very good," Babetta said, turning slightly away. "I'll be back with some bread and oil in a minute." She swept by a dark-skinned woman and Beth as they passed towards the wall-booths.
Vegas was just leaving the larger set of swinging doors and nodded to the shorter girl as she passed. Beyond those doors was a hallway, which led to a small office and other portions of the restaurant. The stout scrapper did not deviate, walking in a straight line towards the podium, where Martin stood with a much taller man.
Cap'n slightly looks around, maybe being the only villain there. He always was a wiz at sneaking past Longbow, and probably wasnt doing much good just walking past everyone, probably almost invisble to many. "Ooooookay... Eh, right... Did I take a wrong turn or something?" He isn't very happy that he's one of the shortest people there, frowning under his scarf-like mask. "I hate Paragon city..." He says it quietly enough, hopefully not to be heard. He pulls out a few marbles rolling them around the table in front of him. "I should just go and ask about this whole thing. Then again, I'd just get sat on, or stepped on by some stupid person walkin' around..." He quickly shuffles to the Greeter. "Eh, excuse me?" He looks up. The faded blue hat is slightly covering his face, the scarf covering the lower part.
"Cool." Rachel grinned. "No need fer f'mal'ties. Jus' call me Rach." Bouncing the rest of the way in she stepped up to the podium and looked up, and up, and up a bit more. "Wow, your big." She stated, once more annoyed that she still had yet to break the five foot mark. "Table'll be cool, thanks Katty."
Pinnacle
Heroes
When in danger, or in doubt; Run in circles, scream and shout.
"You called me, Martin?" Vegas stood in an easy way, the sort of stance old martial arts masters have. The proper Englishman was a few inches taller, but appeared less imposing than the dark-haired woman. The man in the suit standing nearby, he towered over Vegas, at least physically.
"I do have the proper license for them, in case you're wondering. Do you have a lock box I can store them in."
Vegas appraised the set up, and even without vast knowledge of firearms, knew what they were. The rig was professional, she could tell that, too.
"I appreciate that you want to store those, and the house appreciates you showing them." It was unusual, not unheard of, but unusual for someone to carry pistols. "Follow me."
Whether he realized it or not, following her did not take his actions out of her sight. Vegas was more than the head of staff, and more than simple security, but the best cards in a hand are those you don't show. They walked through the hallway doors, but turned before the office. Vegas palmed open a lock that was not from any catalog or supplier, the scanner a black panel on the wall.
A seemingly thin wooden door swung out, and Vegas kept him nearest the opening it revealed. The room inside was small, square, with only a single door in the wall opposite them.
"Turn the key," which was protruding from the lock in the small door's face, "and the locker will open. I'd like you to unload the guns and leave the mags in here," she handed him a plastic bin, large enough for assault rifle magazines. She did not mention that firearms would not discharge inside the building, another trump card.
"Put it all in the locker," she was all business, letting him remove the massive pistols, drop the magazines and unload the chamber. "Once you close the door and turn the key, no one can open that box but the person with that key." She noted his critical glance.
"I'm serious, they could tear the building down, burn through the door and get into the room, but they couldn't get into that box. Mind the key, without it, neither can you." She closed the door after he had locked the small safe and pocketed the key.
"One last thing," she said, catching his attention, and she assumed, his eyes behind the sunglasses, "Mind your manners inside the building. We can all stay friendly, whether we stay friends or not."
She led the towering man back into the main dining area, a smile on her face as she turned him back over to Martin. A trip through the bar before she returned to the office, another of her jobs.
"Would you happen to have a bottle of 1982 Chateau Figeac? It's one of my favorite Bordeaux. I did some business with Thierry back in 82. He was gracious enough to let me take a few cases of the 82 for my own scant wine cellar. If you don't have any, I'd be delighted to bring a few bottles in for your sommelier to sample."
Martin looked appraisingly at the man, and measured whether it was mocking or seriousness. His right hand strayed to his vest pocket, a habit he learned in a previous employ.
"Sir, I can assure you, we have one of the finer wine cellars in this state . While we do reserve wines of all types, I cannot claim a bottle of that particular vintage.
"As you know, the Figeac is a study in inconsistency, though that vintage is considered palatable. I would recommend the 82 Chateau La Lagune in place, which I assure you, we do have in the cellar." He stood a little straighter, his nose a bit more in the air. One thing Martin was, it was proud of his skills.
"If the wine is suitable, I will have the bottle brought out. As to the crudites, we have them fresh from our own supplier, and I can attest to their quality. Would you care for a sauce to accompany them?"
((OOC: Matching arrogance with Martin, a clever ploy. The crudites, I am assuming, are the raw veggies, correct?))
[ QUOTE ]
"One last thing," she said, catching his attention, and she assumed, his eyes behind the sunglasses, "Mind your manners inside the building. We can all stay friendly, whether we stay friends or not."
[/ QUOTE ]
"A wise Frenchman once said...The evil that is in the world almost always comes of ignorance, and good intentions may do as much harm as malevolence if they lack understanding."
"I will mind my manners madame. It is what I do best."
he said succintly.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Pity about the Figeac really. I suppose the La Lagune Grand Cru Clàsse Haut-Médoc will do in a pinch. You should take me up on the Figeac offer though. I'll let a few bottles go at cost." Albion intoned pretentiously.
"Regarding the crudités, any sauce will suffice...although I'd prefer bagna cauda if the chef knows the recipe."
((OOC - This is fun Sib!!! Yes, the crudités are the raw veggie appetizers. Albion is full of secrets. Check your e-mail. 
))
"I am of average height, where I come from," Katarin said, leading the young woman to a table near Gal's platform. Taller was always better, in her world, and being less than proper height was generally seen as a defect.
"Babetta will be your waitress, and she will be by momentarily. Is there anything I can do for you now?" She stood erect, stiff at times. Learning friendly conversation was one of the reasons her SG had sent her here. That and they owed Gal several favors.
Several tables away, in a booth, sat a dark-skinned woman swirling a stirrer in her tea, and a few steps back, near the planter sat a man in a peculiar costume. Huge, exotic plants leaned out from the carved stone of the massive planter, lending a more open atmosphere to the room.
The place was filling rather quickly, and the noise level had risen slightly. The smells of good food and cooking wafted through the air.
((OOC: Babetta will be back as soon as she gets the order into the kitchen, Katarin can help with anything you need right away. Otherwise, enjoy the surroundings!))
((OOC: Sorry for the lack of posting...stuck on jury (federal jury even! 
) duty on the same week when most nights were busy as well. 'Nick' will sit quietly drinking and perusing the menu for a little while here.))
"Shut up Mr. Burton, you are not brought upon this world to get it!" - Lo Pan
@MadGremlin
"Friend, if you're av'rage height, I'd rap'ly get a sore neck if an'one tall'r was 'ear." The teen grinned as she was lead into an ornate seating area and a table. Rachel hopped into the chair and jumped it forward to position herself appropriatly at that table.
"Babetta will be your waitress, and she will be by momentarily. Is there anything I can do for you now?"
"Well, f'r starters," Rachel leaned forward on one elbow as she looked up at Katarin. "You c'n loosen up. Your not gunna get inspec'ed at any moment 'ere. 'R if you do, I'd look for another place to work. Oth'r 'en that? Nah, I'm good."
Rachel looked over the room and its occupants. "In'trestin' folks." She commented, more to herself then anyone else.
Pinnacle
Heroes
When in danger, or in doubt; Run in circles, scream and shout.
Once we were here
Where we have lived since the world began
Since time itself gave us this land
Our souls will join again the wild
Our home in peace and war and death
Wandering on Horizon Road...
A sound of steps echoed in Kings' Row alleys. Over the rooves, in the damp and smelly courtyards, in the streets full of overflowing trashcans, just the usual display of evil rituals, petty thievery and violence. But those steps traced a straight line toward a precise target, and if something evil happened to be on their trajectory, they stopped just for a second, then a keen metallic sound resonated, followed by the whistling of the wind when it's cut by something moving really fast, the sound of limp bodies falling to the ground, and then, steps again; black leather combat boots, with a hint of yellow near the sides.
She didn't like to walk. Since she learned to fly, she never resorted to walking. Especially not in Kings Row. Kings Row smelled of poverty, of sad buildings all alike, of factories and filth. Whenever she could, she kept to the greener, cleaner areas of the city. However, she had been walking those streets all evenings, at that same time, every day, for months: her eyes vainly searching the poorly lit alleys for a sign of Gal's Place reopening. Recently, there had been some working, maybe even restructuring, and cleaning up. But always behind doors closed to the public. Could it be...?
The streetlights reflected over her golden, winged tiara, giving it a spectral hue. She lifted a black gloved hand to touch it, almost shyly: she had never changed it, and never a single enemy had been able to break it or maim it. Sure, it had been scratched, but nothing serious, and it had always been repaired to perfection; that never changed, neither her clothes had changed, but what about Gal's place? What would've she found? Maybe this time, this time will be different, and maybe not. Maybe it can start again, no, it can continue from where it has left. Is she all right? Is he all right? Are all of them, all right?
Then her steps stopped, right in front of Gal's Place door. Her deep green eyes started itching, and she pressed her fingers on them, rubbing away welling up happiness tears: then, she pressed the palm of her right hand against the door, slowly, almost waiting for a dream to fade away. Gal's Place was back.
With her left hand, she brushed away from her face a lock of fiery, long red hair, sending it over a shining, golden knight shoulderpad. Her right hand slid down to the doorknob, and clenched it for some moments, to be absolutely sure of its concreteness: not an illusion, not some Carnival of Shadows mind trick. It seemed so real...
Then Falcon Kitiara turned the doorknob, and stepped inside the Place, black cape with blazing lightnings gently waving behind her, and Hero of the City badge shining on her simple brown leather bra.
[Welcome back, my dearest friend! It's so nice to have you back! and hello also to everyone in Gal's place, both old and new faces ]
"Mai Tai?" Narshawn did know how the drink was made, but every person seemed to have their own take on things in this City. She had been chastised thoroughly by a gentleman on her making of a Martini, so she thought better to ask.
"Perhaps you would be so kind, and instruct me?"
Ladies' Mai Tai
1 oz. Royal Hawaiian Light Rum
1 oz. Lemon Hart 86 Demerara Rum
1 oz. Bols Orange Curacao
Dash French Orgeat Syrup
Dash Mandala's Rock Candy Syrup
Juice of half a Lime
1/4 oz. Lemon Juice
Orange Juice
"We do squeeze our juices fresh," Narshawn added.
Jenni looked at the instructions and smiled. The Ladies recipie was a little different than what she was used to but there was a couple of variations that she usually put in the drink. "Sure. I would be glad to." She said seeing the ingrediants coming out from behind the bar.
She put in nearly the same amount of the Rums but with a little more than was described (adding 1/4 oz. to each of the rums) and instead of the Orange juice, she substituted Pineapple juice for the extra "tang". Once the mix was made up, she offered Narshawn a taste.
"Now this is how we make it in Maui. Its a little varaition since Oranges are not common there fresh. Have a sip if you like." She said smiling as she grabbed two straws and put it in the drink.
((OOC: Sorry it has been a while since I had posted. I had a very busy couple of days.))
Katarin did not say what would likely have happened to someone the young girl's size, where she was from. She tried not to think too often of what had happened to many people during her life there.
She smiled, which was a pleasant feeling. What would it have been like to be able to grow up like this? She was envious. No lock step, no forced schooling, no fealty to the state; just a sense of freedom.
She actually touched the girl's hand as she sat down. "Thank you, Miss. Please have a good meal." Then, she walked back to the front, feeling far more than she had before.
((OOC: That feeling is simply FEELing, like sitting in a park and suddenly realizing there are birds chirping.))
"Long as we're clear," Vegas said, motioning back to the dining room. "Enjoy your dinner, sir."
*************
"Regarding the crudités, any sauce will suffice...although I'd prefer bagna cauda if the chef knows the recipe."
"Indeed, sir," Martin said in his finest servant-of-an-upper-class house tone. "I shall inquire." Turning smartly, he headed first to intercept Gal, who was on her way back to the kitchens, and then to the cellar for the wine.
A smile he did not show crept through his mind at giving Gal the request.
Narshawn watched, learning like a robot, because later, she would be able to replicate the measures. Eidetic memory and photographic, handy to have at times.
When the woman finished, she could see the satisfaction in her face.
"Thank you, but alcohol is not healthy for me." A closed lipped smile. She had never seen the irony in being put in charge of the bar, but being unable to drink. She had always considered it a way to prevent loss, and keep someone with a clear head.
She caught sight of Gertrude passing through the tables. A few patrons had placed orders, which the waitress left at her station. Narshawn would fill them, and the older woman would pick them up later. They made a good team, even if Narshawn had little patience for Gertrude's manners.
Martin returned to the front, an invisible smirk lingering from Gal's reaction to the request for sauce. Even now, she would be wiping her hands on a towel and going to discuss the matter with the albino.
The older Englishman felt the doors open, and raised his head from the notes he was taking concerning reservations. He had a power of observation few could match, and an ability to size up a situation which made his position perfect for him. His eyes traveled from the floor to the man's head quickly, but it was a long journey.
Slightly scuffed Roper boots, the edges of his jeans looking a little worn, but serviceable above the leather footwear. A wide, woven belt and buckle more like a garbage can lid than a fastener in size. Western cut, broad-striped shirt wrapped around massive arms and a huge chest, and ending around a bull-neck and wide face some six plus feet off the floor. Not as tall as Gal, but very tall for a human.
"Good evenin'," the man drawled, looking from side to side, taking in the room. He placed one huge hand on the podium, possessively. "I'm here to see Leslie."
Martin could think of one person who matched this description, and would use the owner's first name. At least he was dressed, whether it matched Martin's propriety or not.
Nick, in other areas (the Rogue Isles in specific) known as the deadly CheapTrick, sat idly at the bar, sipping his drinks and awaiting his food. Finally his curiosity got the better of him something that had both cursed him and served him well in the past.
So miss Narshawn, he said, to get her attention, what is this sisterhood thing all about anyway? Some kind of hero group? He took a slow sip of the scotch and savored the smoky flavor as he tried to read her amazingly blank expression.
"Shut up Mr. Burton, you are not brought upon this world to get it!" - Lo Pan
@MadGremlin
Narshawn considered for a moment, filling tumblers and glasses for the bar.
"The Ladies are simply a group of like-minded women, not all are powered, but many are. We all aspire to peace, a balance of things. We are all 'Sisters', that belong to the group, with different levels of seniority.
"We watch over each other, and provide assistance to the City in times of need. The Sisters have existed for a long time, but prefer to work simply as good citizens, not as a public force. We were granted sovereign rights because of several Sisters' help during the Rikti Invasion." She smiled, showing her pointed, meshing teeth like a shark's.
"You wouldn't know us unless you knew we were part of the Order. We don't wear identifying clothes, except for official meetings, which do happen."
Albion took notice of the behemoth of a man come in the front door. Surely they must have a rear delivery area where such roughnecks could do their business without disturbing the clientele.
His thoughts turned to the book. One week ago he came home to his mansion just off Talos Island, to find that his hidden library had been ransacked. Several books were taken, in a ruse that would not have been spotted by the insurance adjusters...but he did notice. One particular book was missing. The mystic wards had been dispelled. He was no mere hedge wizard, but his seals would have kept out most thieves. Nevertheless, his family's prized heirloom had been pilfered. The book...Liber Ivonis. Many doubted it's very existence, yet he had read from it since he learned to read. It gave him nightmares, but also gave him glimpses of power that he could attain...under the right circumstances. The book was responsible for a great deal of his ancestors mysterious deaths. He understood it was a neccessity. Blood will follow blood.
This was the work of one woman. He had been warned by a blind seer in India of her treachery. Shortly after this warning, the seer was found face down in the Ganges River. The reach of the sorceress of Atlas was long indeed.
Albion glanced up and noticed the maitre'd speaking to the chef. She wiped her hands on her apron and started towards him. "I wonder what the matter could be?" he thought to himself.
(((O.O.C. - What killed this thread? There hasn't been a post in ages. 
)))
((OOC: Killed is a little strong, but I hate running the place alone, so I was waiting for some feedback 
))
Gal was just slightly on edge tonight, knowing who was supposed to be in town. She was still slightly drained from her recent adventure to another world. She was still concerned for her partner, who had been far worse off than she was. She had a temper, and had lost the enchanted tiara that had for years been a buffer to her anger. Lastly, she had received word from Martin that a gentleman was questioning the one thing she considered herself good at.
Her stride was purposeful, and soaked up distance at a frightening pace. Directly towards the pale man, who she also knew had come armed, but had been respectful to hear Vegas tell it.
Halfway to the table, she noticed the same man Martin was now greeting. He was exactly the way she remembered him: Tall, broad and country. She'd grown up in a place where you were either country or you were city. Her direction lurched and she headed for the podium.
"Cousin," he said as her shadow fell over Martin, "Nice place you got here."
"It is, and I plan for it to stay that way." The podium, Martin, the background noise, it all melted away as she said it. As only family could, he set her on edge.
She entered the pub from the street, wearing pink sunglasses which she slowly lifted to settle in her shoulder-length blonde hair. Her make-up was impeccable though not overly done and she looked to be a model in her early twenties.
She scanned the room coyly then took a look at the thin watch on her wrist and sighed. With a shrug she straightening out a wrinkle in her minidress then walked over to an empty spot at the bar.
She gave slight wave to the bartender and set her small purse down. "Hey, hon? Can i get a gin-tonic? Oh and can you make it a double?"
<< >> ???? WHERE IS EVERY ONE?
Adavan, Energy/Energy Blaster
Advent Force, Energy/Regen Blaster
(( not sure... but RL has been intruding on many. ))
"City of Heroes. April 27, 2004 - August 31, 2012. Obliterated not with a weapon of mass destruction, not by an all-powerful supervillain... but by a cold-hearted and cowardly corporate suck-up."
The tall Katarin, beginning to feel a little harried, looked at the girl. She knew that Gal accepted anyone who walked through the door, and had even taken Katarin to the homeless shelter the huge Tank volunteered at. Gal, and all the Sisters, believed in treating every person as an honored guest. She did look twice over the girl's clothing, but that was all.
, and I hope you enjoy your stay. Gal is known for volunteering at a homeless children's shelter down the street, and that's from EARLY in this thread. They turn away no one.))
"No, Miss, this early, reservations are not required. I am Katarin, and this is Ladies by the Lake. Hallo," she said somewhat belatedly. Strangely enough, this girl was easier to understand than anyone else. Katarin smiled.
"A table or a booth, please?"
((OOC: Welcome Arashi. Katarin will be able to understand Rayne's English better than Martin's