(Untitled)

[nestingdevil]

Who: Greed | OPEN
What: Greed get his hole of a bar open. It's not much and the selection is small, but any and all are welcome.
Where: The Devil's Nest | South Side of Town
When: Late Afternoon/Evening | June 11th
Rating: R for now - probably language,.

Comments

[scientize]

1/2 INCOMING

It was at precisely at ten o'clock in the evening when an entirely new breed of customer stepped through the hazy entryway of the new dive known simply as The Devil's Nest.

It was a petite woman and her towering male companion that had entered rather unexpectedly into the busy scene, the pair deciding on a complete whim to test out the newest addition to Aliunde's expanding collection of nightlife entertainments. Though different in appearance in every single way possible except for the darker skin tones they'd shared, both man and woman cast the same scrutinizing stare around the establishment upon their arrival, sharp eyes falling severely upon the neatly scrubbed floor, the particularly seedy-looking clientele, and the reasonably priced alcoholic beverages.

This thorough visual examination took only a brief moment. Raising that beautifully dark-haired head of hers in a silent nod to the man, it seemed the lovely woman had made the choice for them both no matter what his own personal thoughts were. Whatever they had been initially expecting to find in the south side of this massive city, The Devil's Nest and it's patrons seemed to pass inspection enough for a casual evening of drinking to be spent there between a newly reunited man and his wife.

...Though to those curiously watching this odd couple from the sidelines, they may be truly shocked to hear that Naomi and Javert are indeed a blissfully married pair and not an aging man taking his youthful daughter out for the evening. Especially considering the man's deeply lined face and thick, graying hair placed him to be well into either his fifties or sixties depending on how generous the observer was, and the enchantingly gorgeous and young Naomi couldn't possibly be more than thirty.

"Well," the woman finally spoke up, her usually softer voice raising above both the blaring music and mingling customers, turning to give the former Police Inspector a charming, flirtatious grin. "It looks exactly like the type of place I could see you working at, don't you think so? We can only hope they're hiring..."

[chose_death]

2/2

In the young woman's male companion was a very different kind of challenge for the land of indulgence and greed. The woman looked as if a few drinks and a few loosened blouse buttons would let her fit right in with the raunchiest of men. The man was a different story.

He was stony-faced, militantly straight, and completely irreproachable in expression and body language. He had the bearing of a soldier, full of self-confidence and natural authority. His arms were folded forbiddingly across his chest, large hands balled into fists. He cast a glance around the establishment that was so severe it almost seared holes through the tables. A vaguely repulsed grimace settled on his face as he fixed his corkscrew gaze on each of the clientele in turn. One man looked no less degenerate to him than the last, a nest full of the loudest, most violent, least inhibited men in the city.

It was plain to note that with his unimpressed stare, he was judging. But above all, this man with the lovely arm candy looked like he was about as much fun as a lump of coal.

So what was he doing in a teeming hive of scum, greed and vice, if he were truly a man impervious to material temptation?

The answer was simple: nosiness.

He was compelled by curiosity. The man had, within him, an animal instinct for sniffing out the worst of men. He was a keen observer, possessing a falcon's sight and a wolf's predatory instinct. And finally, to be frank, going on the hunt for unsavory fellows -- seeking out a thrill -- gave him some satisfaction and excitement in his existence. He wanted to find the worst of men, to keep tabs on them, to brand them irredeemable, and then to see to their ultimate downfall. The Devil's Nest not only bore a name that begged to be used for unsavory means, but the whisperings he had heard prior to its opening, and the sort of people he'd glimpsed heading for its dark doors were enough cause for a look around. His wife had suggested a night out at the grand opening for this place, and the man, in truly rare form, accepted with only a moment's thought. He would use his time to probe and investigate.

It came down to this: you can take the police inspector out of the police, but you can't take the police sensibility out of the man. It was his livelihood. It was the only thing he knew how to do, and he did it well. Hideous curiosity was simply a different flavor of Greed.

When the woman beside him spoke, the ferocious grimace on his face melted into some obscure and indifferent expression. He arched a brow and looked at her through his lashes.

"Fetch me my leathers again, and I would find my place in this rubble, ma chèrie," he tossed back lazily. He selected a high-top table with two empty stools very near to the bar. He perceived they would get the best view of the dive from there, and waved toward it with a flick of his wrist.

"Come! After you."

[nestingdevil]

While his avarice was far from being fulfilled, Greed could honestly tell himself he was getting some satisfaction. The bar was hopping and it had only been opening night. People came and went - some left on the street and others fell into the darkest pits of the bar, alcohol on the breath and other things on the mind. Sex, liquor, gambling - it smelled like sweet copper in his nose and it made him absolutely prime for the evening. He shoved out drinks like a mad man, as if his very soul depended on it. And it did, to some degree. Though he was trapped, Greed was still boiling inside. And the more people came, the more he wanted. It was like music and he was dancing to the beat.

By the time two very unexpected guests had arrived, Greed was pouring out a line of shots. His black wrist bands dangled on his bones and caressed just the top parts of his hands. He gestured to his willing audience, torso tipped at the hip. "Now, if you don't mind - I'd like ya'll to enjoy a little Hotter Than Hell. Coming straight to ya, from good ol'Dublith."

He flicked a lighter from his pocket and leered. "Now, before anyone gets any ideas - you burn, it's your turn." Greed made a line across the bar with his finger. "That means the first one to lift his hand takes the shot. And so on and so forth until the last one standing remains. Rules are that the winner gets his choice of drink from the back and the losers pay for him. You ready?"

The homunculus opened the lighter open and clicked it to life. Brilliant flame shot off the edge and he rounded the shots fanned out before him. Liquor shot up into flame and his sunglasses glowed brilliant with reds and oranges.

And so the game was on.

But Greed had looked up long enough to see a couple. A right couple, though the guy was a bit older for the gal - Greed shrugged his shoulders. Always a man not to judge, he merely spun around to grab a set of napkins and placed them as they took up their seats.

Far down the other end of the bar, the first of the gang of boys had yelped and ripped his hand from his shot glass. The rest would fall like dominoes.

"Welcome to The Devil's Nest," Greed purred at his new customers, face full of shark-teeth and concealed eyes. "-I don't usually see much prim and proper, but I'm never one to turn anyone away." True to his nature, he took a good long gander at the gal, bit the inner side of his cheek, then leaned across the bar. "What'll it be?"

[scientize]

Only a few brief moments within this particular establishment's walls and already the tiny woman could feel the subtle, but alluring pull that Greed's little bar held over it's less-than-saintly patrons. Javert, noble beast that he was, might have possessed some natural resistance to the unseen force that so urged them to stay and kick up their feet for a drink or two, but his wife was a completely different story. As strong as she may claim her mental fortitude was in the face of certain earthly temptations, sometimes the attraction was just too great for even her to withstand.

Naomi Hunter was a woman well practiced in the art of sinning. During the long thirty-nine years of her life, she had become intimately acquainted with quite a few of the Cardinal Sins, likely because she was the type of person who felt the full force of most of her emotions rather strongly, even if she so rarely let it show. Any catty jealously she held towards other women of noticeable beauty or some intellect was hidden behind an all too polite smile, even later as she whispered blatant lies about the unsuspecting girl to others. Any deadly rage that trembled through her tiny frame turned her cold and indifferent to everyone except her poor husband, who had often felt the full effect of her wrath in the last two years of their relationship. While it was obvious that Lust and Pride were the two vices that she kept closest to her heart, Greed was never too far behind, especially when it came to how focused she could became on acquiring and holding onto social status.

Needless to say, despite it's rather rough outward appearance, the bar seemed to agree well with Naomi, reminding the woman of the places she used to frequent on the weekends before her time spent as a wife. Even the rowdy boys at the counter, hooting and slapping each other jokingly on the back for their failure at Greed's little game seemed similar to the many faceless men she'd spent so much time with while drinking and laughing the night away carelessly.

With only a roll of her eyes at her husband's ridiculous reply (God, she had almost forgotten about that), Naomi slipped into the offered seat and immediately smoothed down her blouse, perhaps checking to make certain she was showing just the right amount of cleavage.

At the appearance of Greed, Naomi initially thought very little of bartender. He was attractive, she supposed, if you were in to that sort of rebellious, dressed-in-leather type. There was a very vague something about him and his mile-wide smile that she couldn't quite put her finger on, but the doctor was quick to brush it off as nothing for the moment. Maybe she really was getting to be just a tad bit too paranoid after all she had been through recently.

Naomi certainly needed a nice evening of relaxed conversations tonight.

"Just something light, please. I'd prefer for this night to last." Her sweet grin flashed to Javert. "No reason to rush into getting drunk yet, right?"

[chose_death]

Javert, as the woman's male companion called himself, paused in the middle of taking his seat. Greed had just called him 'prim-and-proper,' and he could not help but fix a droll but no less ferocious stare on the bartender. Where Greed was the shark, Javert was like a wolf, two foreign predators sizing each other up.

Like Naomi, he felt something ominous in this man. He smelled it and sensed it rather than saw it, the same kind of animal instinct a guard dog would feel with an intruder. He swept his large, unblinking stare around Greed's smug, grinning face, and deliberately chose to settle on his hidden eyes. Perhaps if he looked long and hard enough, he would be able to read what is laid bare in that obscured little brain.

It was rather rude of Javert, actually, to so openly and coldly stare down a man he had just met. Evidently he did not care. He took his seat without lifting his eyes.

"Vodka on the rocks with a twist," he said at last. Sharp, abrupt, and accustomed to running the show. Such was this formidable sort of man. "A lemon twist." He thrust a jutting, square jaw to his wife. "She will take a gin fizz." His irises shined. "Do you serve bread or salted nuts with your drinks?"

[nestingdevil]

There was a flicker behind his shades, his eyes taking in all Naomi had to offer. And he noticed the shirt, noticed the nice pair of twins there. An odd pair, surely. She didn't seem the type to run with such a cross-the-Ts, dot-the-I(s) kind of fellow. But if that was what she wanted, Greed wasn't going to stop her. He was willing to show her a good time if Mister Stone-Faced-Dotted-Notes decided to leave her at the bar. But if and only if.

He shrugged his shoulders, sending his collar fluffing around his neck. He looked like sin - definitely the right fellow to own a place like this, so the assumptions were probably true. He measured up the man's solid stare with a sharpening grin. It twisted his features and his skin went taut. "Think the lady could ask a drink for herself?" He turned though, not really wanted an answer. Whatever they were, he wasn't going to get involved. Not too much, at least.

The homunculus snatched up a matching pair of glasses and rubbed them dry. He spun them up onto the preparation top, literally twisting them on their smooth edges. They twirled and turned, like a pair of dancers, before crashing to a halt. Greed reached above him and snagged a bottle of vodka and a bottle of gin. He flipped them by their necks, rolling them through his fingers - he was a master at things savory for dark corners and lusty bedrooms. Liquor was just the fuel that made those things groan to life. So, he had picked up a few things and he used them to show off because why not? Maybe he could break the angry customer and get his gal talking.

The gin bottle crossed the vodka as he twisted his wrists over one another and poured into either glass, using the opposite hand for each. The streams of liquor fell over glass, temptation in 80-proofs-of-poison. After his was done, the bottles found their places back on his shelf near the back and Greed fell by his thighs, spreading his legs apart. He reached into a storage unit under the prep-station and snagged hands full of ice.

He plopped ice into a shaker - the gin followed, poured from glass into tin. The other cubes were set up on the counter. He snagged a bit of rum from the back and splashed it into the twist's glass.

Sour mix found itself a home in the shaker and Greed lifted the instrument of his trade, turned, and started shaking it. "No bread - peanuts, sure." He met Javert's gaze again - he would be the one Greed wanted to break. But that would come with a bit more alcohol and a lot of push. It was a challenge that Greed, subconsciously or not, had set his mind to.

"The name's Greed," he said boldly. He shook the mix a few times, then set it down. He continued his chit-chat through his work - a slice of lemon there, a slice of lime here, three strawberries, etc. When he actually got to finishing the drinks, he garnished the 'Fizz with a maraschino cherry that was still linked to its kin. That - well that was for him. Back in the old 'Nest, he had met many a women who had a talent for playing with cherries in their drinks. And he needed a bit of entertainment - that push to get the energy to break down the lady's boring husband.

He pushed the drinks forward when he was done - fizz for the Lady, twist for the Grinch. And to start the game of pushing the envelope, when he brought out the peanuts with a quick reach under the bar, he leaned in between the two of them, elbows down. "So, what brings the two of you here to a dive like this."

Ladies and gentlemen, let the real games begin.

[scientize]

​An odd pair, Greed? You better be talking about Naomi and Javert themselves and not her, ahem, finest attributes.

​Realizing that she had the bartender's undivided attention, Naomi straightened in her seat as those shapely legs of hers crossed, the smile she'd been sharing with her husband immediately turned upon the homunculus instead. Not even a full year of (mostly) committed marriage had been able to tame the flirty woman from absolutely basking in the attention given from another man. Even when the sharp-eyed Javert was sitting right there at her side, witnessing it all.

​Slipping a dainty hand under the table to rest gently over her husband's knee to show she hadn't completely forgotten about him, Naomi's gaze kept curiously focused on Greed as he slipped away to make their requested drinks. And what an entertaining spectacle that had turned out to be. A practiced flip of one bottle here, the expert twirl of a half full glass there.  Whatever brief reservations the beautiful doctor had initially felt concerning the man had smoothly slipped away as she watched those nimble hands of his work.

If Greed's real intention with this dazzling little spectacle had been to warm up the woman and get her chatting more freely, it certainly had worked.

​Giving the bartender an enthusiastic clap as his performance slow downed to the finishing touches, the gaze Naomi leveled at her husband was positively sparkling as her voice lowered for his ears only. "You step behind the bar some evenings, don't you, dear? Do you ever put on a show like that?"

To be perfectly honest, Naomi was already well aware of the answer to that playful inquiry (a very firm 'no' with a roll of his eyes) but that wouldn't stop her from asking.

Her attention snapped back to the other man as he spoke. ​"Greed?" Forgive the delicately arched eyebrow at that. Really? It was more than just a little silly as far as nicknames went, but it wasn't as if Naomi was going to begin openly criticizing him for it. At least it managed to fit in with the name of the establishment. Maybe the other employees would similarly named. Some kind of charming theme bar.

"Well, you have a very nice place here, Greed. I like the atmosphere. You've just opened up recently, haven't you? How is business so far? Does this side of the city draw in a crowd?"

With the show completed and the drinks finally pushed in their direction, Naomi eagerly pulled her glass in closer, dark eyes sweeping over the finished product (and the cherry) appreciatively. Unfortunately for the men in the room, any talent Naomi may or may not have possessed with her tongue would remain a complete mystery for now. She was, after all, a respectable, professional woman.

At least she was for the first few rounds of drinks. Then she might show them that particular talent and more if Javert doesn't stop her.

​Despite the fact that the woman had brought her husband to this very bar for the sole purpose of reconnecting and finding a bit of shared relaxation after the night they'd experienced just the evening before, she was more than willing to invite Greed into the conversation for now.

​"Our own celebration." Well, the first act, at least. Part two would need to take place somewhere more private. "You could say we haven't had the time to go out together in a very long time." 

[chose_death]

"Half correct," Javert commented in a disarming, light tone of voice. He cradled his iced vodka in one hand and selected a peanut with the other. True enough to Naomi's assumption, he had granted her a low snort and a roll of his large, probing eyes toward the ceiling when he felt her soft nudge on his knee.

Strangely enough, the foreboding man offered no further explanation for his correction. Instead, he moved on to an abrupt observation.

"I expected and wanted a dive bar. The Devil's Nest - your idea? Management's? Whoever! That implies refuge. Of the sort where all men become invisible," he said in that same steady voice. He cast Greed (an alias? the corner of Javert's mouth pinched in a crooked smirk) a meaningful look and twirled the peanut absently between his fingers. "I think I'm mostly right. But apparently your vagrants and invisibles get a show with their haven. You are talented with your shakers."

He flicked the peanut into his impressive maws and washed it down with a glug of vodka. At least the drink was good, the liquor smooth and delicate, creamy on the tongue. His eyebrow raised thoughtfully. He liked it, certainly much better than the burning stuff he was made to swallow during the dreadful, miserable camp-outs at the Russian Campaign of 1812. It made up for the showiness. Somewhat.

Truth be told, Javert was not nearly as dazzled by this shark as his wife, to say the least. The man was playing the part of the clown with a devil-may-care grin. The alias, Greed, seem to suit the theme park atmosphere; he was now convinced he had found himself in the midst of a seedy, underworld variant of a circus sideshow. Light up a few extra cigars, place a man with an eyepatch in a shadowy corner, and initiate the drug deals in the storage closet while the vipers gamble over their cards and billiards, and the picture would be complete.

The next question would be whether Greed's showmanship placed him as the star of this joint, or simply the diversion. Javert would have to stay and learn and probe even further before he could make that assessment.

By the way, Greed, do not think for a moment that you are getting away with those stolen glances at his wife's ample bosom. Javert's eyes shot between the tinted lenses and his wife with each glimpse. He was counting.

Javert smiled over his glass. It was a thin smile of the kind that did not reach his eyes.

"Entertainment, then," he continued slyly. "We are here for conversation and entertainment. Invisibility is the bonus. This woman is a doctor at the hospital, and it is annoying to be recognized by your patients at every turn of the corner. It is our time off." He raised his glass in a salute, a toast. "Shadows work in our favor here, too."

[nestingdevil]

What a riot! The two of them were just a riot and Greed laughed, hands spread on the bar top. "The Devil's Nest was my old joint - it needed a revival. Up from the ashes, as I say." He pushed himself back, leaving the space between the two love birds for their own. "Business is good, considering the place is new. And you'd be surprised - people, things, creatures - they all need a place to go, to unwind. And I'm willing to provide, for a fee." He showed off his teeth again before placing his fingers up to his round shades, righting them back into place. "You two showed up here, didn't you? You want the same - a place where no one bothers to ask the monotonous questions."

The homunculus purred, casting another glance at the doctor. She was impressive. "Yes, the name is Greed. Got no other." He jolted his arms to his sides and spread them, hands rolling on tight wrists. "I'll show you all the entertainment you need, but I think it'd be right and proper of you to give me some names. I gave you mine, after all - free of charge." He tilted his head. The shades fell down his nose, exposing bright-purple eyes with thin, slit pupils. The kind made for monsters like himself. "Any questions, I'll answer - any entertainment, I'll give. I just want an equal exchange."

Money, he'd take. Women, he'd fuck. Power, he'd steal. It was kind of the name of his game. Speaking of which:

He turned to the rag-tag team of boys finishing off the game he had set out for him. None were left standing. "Cash out, kids. You lost." He waggled a finger and the money was tossed up on the bar, mumbles all around but not a frown in sight. His lust for the coin brought his fingers dancing across the bar and he slipped the change into his vest. "Thanks for your contribution," he said with a wink.

Done with that business, he turned back to the couple. They had his full attention now. "Invisibility was never my intention - I only want to fill desires - I hope you can understand that. I won't lie to you - if you want to piss your money away, there's a spot for that. If you want to drink until you forget, we'll provide. Want to try your luck at pool -" He hissed, his tone venomous, dangerous, and full of that searing hunger that just wouldn't go away. "-be my guest. I won't stop you. In fact, I encourage it."

Greed shoved his hands into his pockets and arched a brow. "If that doesn't suit you, we're got other things to null the mind. You just need to tell me what you want."

[scientize]

For all of her husband's rising suspicion directed at the wildly grinning man standing in front of them, Naomi was honestly finding her own uncertainly over Greed to be slipping away more and more as the minutes flew by. The homunculus may have seemed a little rough around the edges to her upon first glance, but now she beginning to feel an appreciation for the way he ran his business. As interesting an establishment as the Devil's Nest was on it's own, it really wouldn't have held any of the allure it currently did without the thoroughly entertaining, fun-loving staff around to keep up the the room's high energy. Greed obviously cared for his customers, the men at the bar still grinning after losing their little game to him showed that well enough. He actually took the time to speak with each of the people who walked through his door, to get to know them on some personal level, and to make sure they were fully satisfied with his performance.

Chances are you wouldn't be able to find that level of devotion to customers at any other bar within the city, certainly not the more popular ones.This was simply a one of a kind place.

And just as Naomi had made the decision to come to this little place on her own in the first place, the woman has already determined that she would like to return with her husband frequently in the future.

For such a lightweight, Naomi has always been the type of woman to down her drinks quickly when out on the social scene, choosing to throw her head back like a pro instead of daintily nursing her glass for hours like most women. By the time that Greed inquired so boldly after their names, she'd already managed to make a dent in her gin fizz. The buzz has yet to hit her.

Leaning forward to give the man's wandering eyes a nice view of her cleavage, she stuck out a tiny hand politely. "Naomi. It's a pleasure, Greed." Then with a teasing, but somewhat adoring smile to Javert, she added, "And this handsome devil is my husband, Javert." It may seem strange for anyone to refer to this particular beast as handsome, but it was clear from her tone and expression that the woman had meant it seriously.

All of this talk of fulfilled desires was more than a little exciting, but it wasn't until the mention of a manly game of pool that the woman's eyes widened rather abruptly. "Pool?" Casting a quick peek over her shoulder at the empty pool table awaiting new players, Naomi's expression immediately brightened. Now, that would be a fun way to spend their evening together.

"Oh," Her hand went to Javert's arm, her small form leaning into him. In her absolute excitement to get her husband to be involved for her sake, Naomi had failed to catch the dangerous, almost terrifying tone in Greed's voice. "You should play, dear. I want to watch you."

[chose_death]

Javert was fortunate in his restrictive habits; he was not yet drunk enough, nor did he intend to get drunk enough, to miss those eyes when they came out to play. That was the cue Javert had been waiting for, watching out for something without really know what it was he sought to find. That was it.

They were unnaturally purple - was that the light, did he see that correctly? - purple like estate jewels, small, and beady. Initially he gave the impression of a mole emerging into the daylight, with that narrow squint. But Javert leaned perceptibly closer, himself unblinking and wholly absorbed.

They were eyes that belonged to no man but to a snake.

Greed turned away, and they were gone, just like that. Javert was left staring after him intently, poised as if to leap to his booted heels at any moment and pounce like vicious Van Helsing upon Count Dracula.

He was so thoroughly distant that he processed Naomi's embarrassment at the back of his mind. His reaction was delayed.

Javert wheeled around and fixed a comically stupefied look on his wife. He looked for all the world like he was about to sneer and indignantly refuse to indulge in a Devil's gamble. Instead, with a grimace frozen on his face, he thoughtfully plucked the hat off his head and gave it a theatrical little twirl on his finger. He was seriously mulling over the prospect, the stupefaction slowly but surely melting away to reveal preoccupation.

The snap of a match-strike in his brain was practically audible. He shook himself out of it all at once.

The husband insistently pushed the peanut bowl to his wife. He had the decency to look mildly mortified at her appalling and laughable compliment. Any half-blind fool could see that Naomi outclassed Javert in looks by at least ten thousand leagues. The man was not blessed with physical attraction, not with his strong chin, narrow forehead, and unapproachable face.

"Excuse my wife's behavior," he said at last. "Apparently she has slipped a round before we arrived. A club soda for her next round it is!"

He stood up to his full towering height - what he did not have in girth, he made up for in sheer loftiness. He kicked back the rest of his vodka in one fell swoop and hung the hat on the back of a chair. His own eyes sought Greed out once more, shining with a daring fire.

What was it that Javert, this out-of-place guest, wanted? He wanted to figure Greed out. He wanted his secrets, his motivations, his dirty little drive. He wanted to know why you had snake eyes while the rest of them had pupils wide as saucers, lightly glazed, absorbed in their various gambles and vices. He wanted the satisfaction of knowing beyond a doubt that Greed was bad news.

It was a dangerous game that Javert played, but he was the rare, fearless sort of man that was downright reckless enough to leap into this with only the faintest hatchings of a plan.

The glass clunked back on the bar. He dropped his eyes to the billiards table. He was already tracing out trajectories for well-placed strikes.

"I, however," He raised a brow. The man spoke strangely, each word carefully emphasized and punctuated by odd and inappropriate pauses. Clearly they were intentional, but to what purpose? "I shall need more to drink if I am to tackle that."

[nestingdevil]

Greed regarded the information with delighted attention. His jaw was snapped tight, all pearly whites out. He nodded to Naomi. "See - that wasn't hard, giving me your names." She would be wise to stop that cleavage show though - Greed loved a good looking body on anyone, even if they were bound by a gold band and heavenly promises. She was showing her goods, and without any provocation either. So what if he stole a look or two? It seemed to Greed that the couple would be sticking it out for the nignt and he doubted a little private pleasure on his end would deter them too much.

"She's behaving just fine, Javert." That was an odd name. Then again, the name Greed had raised a few brows in the sort period he had been in the city. "I told you - in the business of wants and needs. If she wants to do that, then let her." Greed thumbed at the wife and gave her a quick wink behind his shades. It was a covert operation, short and sweet.

The man was challenging him - the homunculus felt that appetite for knowledge, for want. The fire in Javert's eyes burned and Greed knew it - he was its kin, after all. He danced on the constant line of that longing, often sliding over it and smothering it with his own rules. Smudge the line enough and it starts to fade.

Greed mixed up the tonic for Naomi - well, he just poured it. Just club soda, nothing special. He slid it across the bar and crept into Naomi's space to push it to her. "Here you go, Miss." And he inched in, terrible eyes and terrible teeth growing. He ran a finger across the glass edge of the lady's fresh drink, grabbing the sweat there. He caught the droplets on his index finger and retracted from the bar. Licked the tip of his finger clean with his tongue and swallowed.

"Looks like the lady wants you to play pool, but you don't have any challengers." The homunculus rounded the bar. "How about I offer to make you a surprise drink and you take it. If you hate it, you won't pay a thing. But if you want another-" He stopped dead on his heels and his body fell a bit forward - he was arching at a low dip and his back made an S shape. "-you get a replacement drink free of charge. Either way, you're getting alcohol. And - " Greed straightened and kicked back against the prep station again. Jut his hips out just so and made of steeple of his fingers.

"I'll join you in a round or two. Gentlemen's game. Or if you want to play it really, we can hustle. You win, you get to claim your prize - within reason of course. If I win, I get to snag a kiss from your wife."

[scientize]

Greed may be nothing more than a crafty, slippery snake to Javert, a clownish hooligan with a darker agenda hidden under the surface, but Naomi's opinion was quite the opposite. In fact, Javert may be displeased to hear, the bartender's aloof and playful nature quite reminded the beautiful woman of herself. Sure, she wasn't naïve enough to not pick up on that prickling of danger that seemed to be welling up within him, but that only kept her sharp eyes focused on him just that much more intently. Every less-than-subtle glance and stretched smile was only serving to lull her into a falser sense of security.

The good drink probably wasn't helping much either.

Much to the former police inspector's misfortune, his wife had a terrible knack of stumbling blindly right into the sharp embrace of trouble quite frequently. Which was probably why Naomi was lucky enough to have her husband there beside her on her first night in Greed's little haven. Who knows what might have befallen the woman if she'd skipped into this den of vipers for a few rounds of drink all on her lonesome. Especially since she was already beginning to convince herself that Greed was a nice guy and absolutely harmless.

For all of her renowned intelligence and keen womanly instincts, it was only around trouble making men that Naomi lost all credibility.

"Do you hear that, darling?" Her own wide smile was nearly mimicking Greed's at this point, though it certainly was lacking any of his predatory sharpness. That pretty head of hers tipped coyly up at her husband as he towered over her. "He has the right idea, letting me have absolutely anything I want. You should be taking notes."

As Greed slid the new glass of unwanted soda in her direction, invading her very tiny bubble of personal space, Naomi only laughed. He was nearly as big a flirt as her! Most men wouldn't dare act so teasingly right there in front of her stone-faced husband, but easy confidence was practically oozing from the other man as he gracefully flitted from here to there around the bar. The very moment he'd stepped away from her to roguishly lick his own finger, the woman sent a particular look his way to convey a very simple message:

She'd want something stronger for her next drink, no matter what Javert said.

At her husband's easy agreement to her suggestion of a game and Greed's offer to play against him, Naomi finished off her first drink completely before adjusting her seat so she'd have a clear view of the table. This she would want to watch. Though she cared deeply for her husband and knew him to be a very fun and endlessly entertaining person in private, it wasn't very often that she was able to coax him into joining in on normal socialization like this in public. It may seem like an average evening out for most people, but she was proud of him for this small accomplishment.

"Just a kiss?" Naomi almost doesn't trust a bet that easy, but perhaps Greed was just more gentlemanly than she'd assumed. Or he just had the sense to not ask for more from the woman's husband.  "Well, I'm flattered you think a quick kiss from me is worth anything at all. I'm game."

She looked to Javert, knowing it would be his decision ultimately. "Well?"

[chose_death]

"Why not request one anyway?" Javert's voice was quiet and still. "This woman isn't for sale."

Javert allowed himself an icy, skeletal grimace with a brief glance at his regrettably forward wife. His eyes rippled with something indiscernible. Indeed, a quick kiss from Naomi was worth just about as much as a drug store jewel: common, plastic, and cheap. She was a looker of a wife that intentionally and frequently used her sex appeal to her advantage. The control and power she held over men delighted her, but it also got boring very quickly. The fun for her was to wrest the game in her favor, not to reap the winnings.

That was what drew her to Javert so permanently. He did not let her sex manipulate him like it did the boys. He kept a lid on it, so to speak, and devised trickier methods to conquer her straight on back.

Knowing what he knew about his wife, and twitching visibly at her stupid decision to boast and question the light terms of the wager, he looked ahead down the path they were headed and saw nothing but a dark, murky depth there. He had a hunch. He could anticipate it. The more he studied the Greed's viper grin and raunchy flirtations, the more he believed in his own wild suppositions.

"Now, don't paint me the villain. She is not my drone. I'm not as old-fashioned as I look! But occasionally I make myself her voix de la raison. One of us better have the ability to walk out tonight, don't you think?" he drawled smoothly.

That thought and implication in his quip neatly planted in mind, Javert bent over the bar and pushed the empty glass forward. There was no way, no how that he trusted what he was about to agree to. He would need to devise a contingency as he went along.

"Haven't you heard not to take candy from a stranger?" he said, seemingly out of the blue, a conversational and casual lilt to his brisk voice. He folded his arms across the table; bent in half though he was, he still hovered well over Greed's head. "Let's have it, then. I'll try your drink, one hit of it. But mix a pair."

He observed Greed closely.

"--Or do you wait to drink until after hours?"

Don't be too proud of your husband, Naomi. He always has an ulterior motive in mind, and he hasn't precisely agreed to this charade of a game. Not yet. Not until he could have his own terms added to the deal.

[nestingdevil]

Greed caught the look and shrugged his shoulders, palms up in a sign that he had figured it out. He turned back to the bottles of booze and his fingers danced at their shelves. "But what if that stranger's your bar keep? What then?" He snatched up a bottle of whiskey that had a large, red devil drawn into the label. He unscrewed the top, tossing the tin latch onto the counter. "Everyone is a stranger at some point, right? Get to know 'em better, and they become your friends, your family, your lovers," the homunculus hummed and grabbed not two, but three glasses from under storage. "So - why don't both of you get to know me a bit better and you won't have to worry about ill intentions." Because Greed liked the two of them - he really did. The woman was all sex, sin, and temptation and her man was her opposite; poised, silent, stuck-up, and could he say it? Oh, yes - prideful. These were elements Greed knew, understood, and accepted.

They were, for lack of a better term, deliciously human. But they were not of the regular cut.

Again, Greed found himself wanting a little more.

So, he started with the promised drink. The whiskey filled all three glasses because, shit, the lady wanted more and how could he rightfully deny her? "I'm a man who wants it all, so a quick kiss is a fine wager against whatever the hell you're thinking." The bottle fell back down with a thud. Greed hmm'd and hummed before sliding down, legs bent, palms at his knees. "I won't lie to you - I'd be more interested if you were single, Miss Naomi. But -!" Greed wasn't a man who took things that were happy, at least when it came to women. Because, while his avarice was and remained the deepest pit, he had no intention of ruining a family. Just maybe, maybe making Javert a little hotter under his collar.

The homunculus peeled back and he had three red balls between the knuckles of his fingers. "I think getting anything from you is worth it." He dropped the candies, one into each drink. Threw ice in after, garnished all three with a slice of red pepper. Then he turned, glasses held by their lips, and set them on the bar.

Because Greed had been amused by Javert's question - drinking after hours? Him? He worked for no one but himself - he made the rules, made the hours. He would drink whenever he damn well pleased. "Had to improvise, hope you like it." Greed took a swig of his and the whiskey was hot and cinnamon - literally. Fireball whiskey had been the name and Greed had sampled it after hours a couple of times before now. Learned the name came from a candy that was made for children. So he got the idea then and there - a spicy drink, hot and burning, garnished with the candy of its name and a pepper to add a bit of a tingle.

He'd blame the angel for that one, especially the whole bit about candies.

Taking in his fill, Greed lowered his glass and finally made his way out of the bar. He stopped next to the couple, elbow on the corner of the bar top. "You do look old fashioned." And here - here was something free to keep the fishes hooked.

"But then again, I used to have to dress much the same." The homunculus took another sip and held his eyes. "-After all, two-hundred years ago the people of my neck of the woods were very much like you."

[chose_death]

((OOC: Naomi requested I take the first tag this time. She's up next, then your turn again!))

Javert, who had been looking at his drink with a faraway glaze in his eye, raised his head and met Greed's meaningful stare with an opaque look.

He had the faint feeling he was being played. But then again, his era of dress and his manner was something that could be observed by just a glance. A smart one, but a glance nonetheless. Javert, on the other hand, learned a considerable amount about this new prey of his in his cat-and-mouse game: First, that Greed was from a world much like Javert's Earth, Javert's Paris, if not the same universe; second, that he is no man but a creature, a viper, that has lived well past the normal human expiration date. Judging by the look of him, Javert guessed that Greed would have to be at least two-hundred-thirty years of age, at minimum. Most likely more. A lick of danger welled in the back of his throat. What sort of otherworldly being was beyond the reach of time and old age?

Javert could think of several unsavory possibilities, of the kinds of beasts he had run into in the past. Yet still, knowing that he was behaving exactly as Greed expected, he wanted more, too.

"Yes, you heard me the first time," he said, nonplussed. "I look the part. But it's not very nice to dredge up those memories and remind your elders--" a peculiar emphasis there-- "of their apparent stale age. Or has that gone out of fashion in two hundred years?"

Javert smiled a broad toothy smile, grin stretching from ear to ear. He scooped up his drink.

"The leathers are sounding like a better idea every minute, Naomi. Some well-fitted ones. Then I would simply resemble an old lunk in a motorbike gang rather than a relic of the Restoration. Are you sure you don't miss them? Ah! Next visit."

He sipped. Smacked his lips. Pondered. Lazily lifted a brow. Sipped again.

The drink was a wise choice on Greed's part. It reminded the former police inspector of grog, the underclass cheap drink of choice, usually brewed with a healthy shaving of cinnamon. He discovered he liked it, and raised another askew glance to the… intriguing barkeep. He stepped away from the almost-invasion-of-his-personal-bubble and languidly approached the pool table. He shot Naomi a questioning look. She still found this acceptable, didn't she?

"You might be disappointed, I'm afraid," he said carefully. "I don't play much."

That was not to say he never had the occasion to closely observe tight matches between gentleman in the past. And predict ball trajectories rather well. His tall stature only aided him in a billiards match.