(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

[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.

[scientize]

More than pleased to have an excuse to put off her club soda for another round or two, Naomi picked up the glass of dangerous whiskey and, after a brief moment of hesitation, tilted her lovely head back for a quick sip. It was stronger than she usually preferred to take her drinks, certainly not the kind of concoction she'd order for herself (it was much more to her husband's particular tastes), but still the burn was wicked and somewhat satisfying. Greed's skill behind the bar was not just in the show he gave during preparation apparently.

He knew his drink and he knew his customers. The mark of an expert bartender.

Yes, no matter the outcome of this friendly game, Naomi already had decided she'd be coming back to Greed's little slice of heaven, or hell, as it was. This place was just too damn good to pass up.

"Now, I expect a fair game out of you boys, understand?" Her sparkling gaze swiveled between Greed and Javert, her eyes rolling up ever so slightly at her husband's mention of leathers. It was a thoroughly ridiculous image still for her to think about, even all these months later. But not even the casual mention of the man's age and the time period he was originally from was going to bring the enchanting doctor's excitement for this casual billiards game down. Let the friendly competition begin!

Leaning casually up against the back of her chair with those slender legs of hers crossed, Naomi finally reached over for her ignored club soda as she prepared to enjoy the masculine display that was about to begin in front of her. But, perhaps, Greed might catch a particularly sharp edge to her smile as she played the part of the silent audience.

After all, Naomi Hunter knew her husband more intimately in and out than anyone else could ever even hope to. And she was well aware that Javert, despite being considered nothing more than an antique or relic by those who barely knew him, was so rarely disappointing.

[nestingdevil]

The homunculus laughed and his voice rolled - it was guttural and heavy with the whiskey. He padded over to the pool table, curved boots batting against the creaky old wood of the 'Nest. He grabbed two cues, tossing one to Javert. "Meant no offense - had a few laughs back then. Prefer here, prefer the time back home." He chalked up his cue and his lip jut out. "I don't care where you're from or how old you are, Sir." A particular curl on that one word. Greed's lips pulled back into a villainous sneer. "I only care about what you can do."

"So, what's your wager?" With the cue prepped and prime for the game, Greed reached under the table, grabbing the rack secured underneath. He placed it on top of the luscious, if not stained, green and began collected the billiard balls. His hands were large enough to hold two or three at a time and his knuckles bulged against smooth surfaces. He set them up, taking his time. Javert still had to pony up his end of the bet and Greed? Well, Greed had his eyes set on Naomi again - legs that could go on for miles, a chest that was just teasing enough that his avidity for more pounded in his chest.

A night with her? That'd be prime. Greed's body language remained casual though, languid despite the ache of want. If everything went as he wanted, he'd have a tussle with her. Hell, her husband could come if he wanted. Greed didn't really care either way - his hunger for selfish desires were all a part of him; it filled every atom, every hole, every fiber.

But he would just look for now. Watch her with the silver of his shades.

"I always play fair - never a liar and never a cheater." He lifted the triangle and made it disappear back under the pool table. Set up the cue ball at the edge and circled the set up. He looked like all manner of beasts that Javert had probably tangoed with in the past. He walked like a buzzard circling his prey and his crouch was one of a tempting devil. He was everything his name alluded to - avarice in the flesh, predator by nature, and hellion with his tongue. Bad to the very core, but tipped in favor of a good time.

Not a saint, but a sinner. A preacher of absolution.

Greed had moved his wanton gaze from Naomi to the billiards. Like he was sizing them up.

"Ehhh," he exclaimed, a noise of play confusion and weariness. "I've hit a few games myself, but I'm no Martel, no Roa." Names - Greed knew his guests wouldn't know them from the next hole in the wall. But it felt good to say them. Just a little opening up of that old wound.

Put a band-aid on it, move on. There was a game to be played, after all. And he knew that kindred spirits would have his head if he went too soft.

Greed strut up behind Javert, purposely getting into that narrow space of proximity. "If you want, I can up my wager since you seem so put off by my first. That is, if you're game." He shot a look at Naomi and his teeth came so dangerously close to the back of Javert's neck. Not enough to touch, three inches from the back. But enough that even Greed knew he was pushing things.

But he liked his envelops pushed, liked his buttons popped. So to speak.

"If I win," the homunculus hissed. "I'll take everything I want from the two of you." He jerked away from Javert, sliding to the opposite side of the pool table. The lights above washed him out and he looked pale. His sunglasses were but silver sockets, drinking everything in.

"How's that for a bet?" One look to Javert, then a slow crawl of a stare at Naomi. "If you two think you can do it, that is."

OOC | Sorry about delays. Been workin' my little butt off.

[chose_death]

Javert caught the cue without a flinch. He let the thing, the demon, Greed make his predatory prayer-dance, circling Naomi, the table, and himself like a carrion bird around a corpse. There were two male lions in this den tonight, and only one was destined to become King. Javert perceived himself as the intruder here and stood his ground, bent over his cue like it were his walking stick and methodically chalking it up. He followed Greed unblinkingly with his eyes as he did so, watching and waiting with the admirable, faintly haughty patience of the best of spies.

At the end of it all, Javert gave a listless shrug and a fierce, repulsed grimace. The wager was a vague one, but the former inspector had a proposition of his own to offer. He straightened and made an exaggerated show of rumination over the offer, tapping the cue with a gentle smack idly against the heel of his palm. He resembled a schoolmarm slapping a ruler against her palm.

"I'll take it," his nostrils flared, "if you take mine. Provided she agrees."

Thus far he barely cast a glance at the table. Now he sat back against the edge of it and tilted his head like a sly old tiger. Javert was born with the beasts; he understood and spoke their language, even if he did not personally identify as one of them. "I win -- and I tell you I have little practice, so we shall see the odds of that soon -- I win, I have a use for you."

Javert leaned forward, cradling the cue in the crook of his bent elbow. He studied Greed intently.

"I want to own you."

((OOC: Skip Naomi this round, she'll hit in next time))

[nestingdevil]

"You? Own me? HA-!" Greed doubled over as his hands went right to his hips. He barked out a thunderous laugh, twisting and turning with it, like it possessed his entire body. "I knew I was right about you - I knew you had a back bone! But who could have predicted that? Owning me, Sir? Do you remember who I am? Do we have to do this a second time?" He was going to, anyway. He placed a hand on his chest and dipped so that he was a bit lower than Javert. He shifted his eyes up and they were wide with too many emotions that Greed himself couldn't name.

"Greed - I own, not the other way around. But - ! Since I like you and I like your avarice, you can make your wager. However," he straightened, pulled up by a strong spine. "-I don't work for anyone. Did that song and dance and rebelled like a bad son would." He spun the cue stick around, whacked it across his shoulders, and hooked his other hand around it. He gestured then, wrists wrapped around the cue stick, pointer fingers at Javert. "You've raised a high bargain and I'll meet that wager. Here's the deal."

Greed let go one side of the cue, shifting the balance of weight to the other. The pole lifted off his shoulders, slid through his palm, and careened butt-end to the floor. "You won't own me - sorry. That would just end terribly for you. But, I'll give you what you want. Whatever use you've got for me, fine. I'll take it."

And there he was, closing the space between himself and the other man. "Guests first," Greed said, sultry tone absolutely thick on his tongue. "-make your shot count."