OPEN

[applelimber]

Who: Anyone~
When: Tonight
Where: The Foxhole
Format: Action to open, but whatever you want really.
What: As requested, an open log to celebrate "happy week"
Warnings: Drunkenness? Language? Who knows.

Comments

[jaytodd]

[Jason's spends his time between the door and serving at the counter. No stripping tonight, unless you pay him extra.]

[firebornfidelis]

[Riza feels... good. One might even say happy, and not totally inexplicably. Her life has begun to make sense again.

So when she enters the bar for no particular reason, she's smiling. And when she spots him, the smile grows a little.]

Hello, Jason.

[samianscar]

[Appears in the doorway, casting his signature gunslinger shadow. He's been walking for what may really have been, not just felt like, two straight days. Hard to measure by times of day in the Fog. Easier to measure by his boots and need of a drink. He spots the bottles behind the bar and snorts heartily in approval.] At last. Bloody civilization. [He clomps up to a stool and plops heavily down.]

[stray_gunner]

[Oh look, it's his fellow blondie - though he's not so much blonde so much as unhealthily pale with matching white hair.]

[Heine shifts a little in discomfort but makes no other move to leave.]

[It's an accomplishment, really - he's usually snapping something rude by this point.]

[samianscar]

You! [Ignoring, maybe relishing, the other's discomfort, promptly slings an arm around Heine's shoulders, leaning fully on him in honour of balance problems hopefully to be obtained.] My welcoming committee! As my oldest and blondest acquaintance, care to buy a fella a drink?"

[stray_gunner]

[He startles immediately as Spike leans over, grabs him around the shoulders, and tries to (it seems) balance on him alone. He's momentarily tempted to push him off, but judging by the other man's demeanor, he'd just come back.]

No.

[The reply is short and succinct, and comes with an irritated glare.] Get your own.

[poweroflegend]

[Trevor's quite jovial tonight. He strides up to the bar, where two local scoundrels are carousing, and taps one of them on the shoulder. That rogue has his foot up on an empty stool and Trevor finds that a waste of space.]

Beg your pardon, but might I trouble you for that seat?

[Said rogue glares over his shoulder... and his irritation melts into abject terror. This is the Scorched he and his partner had tried to make an example of last weekend. That didn't turn out at all well. The bruises from that fiasco have yet to fade.]

[But Trevor doesn't remember THEM. That's why he can only watch as they stumble over each other while retreating to an already crowded long table. With not one but three seats at his disposal, there's not much else for the hunter to do than take the leftmost one and order a drink.]

[twoswordjuniper]

[Deneve, who has been watching the crowd in case of fights, doesn't miss the two drunken degenerates fleeing the table simply because another man takes a seat. She raises a brow and considers him discreetly from her place beside the bar. He is of interest to her if he can frighten them off with just his presence and she wonders what he must have done to get such a reaction from men like that.

Perhaps she'll just keep an eye on him.]

[poweroflegend]

[There's quite a bit on his mind right now. Life in this city and his place in it. The weekly treats he promised Yachiru. The unknown object of Dawn's admiration. That eyepatched young man who claimed a shared profession.]

[That's why it's a bit before he gets that sensation of being studied. But when he lifts his head, it's only a striking blond woman with silver eyes.]

[...strange. He's seen those same eyes on Priscilla.]

[twoswordjuniper]

[Maybe it's the odd lightness of her mood and maybe its just curiosity, but Deneve leaves her place at the end of the bar and approaches him. She silently takes a seat on the stool beside him and with a just a glance at the bartender is provided with a drink.

Coolly and disinterestedly, she takes a sip and then looks at him. Assesses him. Everything she is able to observe - his clothing, demeanor, expression - seem to say that he must be 'scorched,' like herself, but she doesn't recall having seen him before. Not that she pays too much attention to the faces and voices on the Forge.

She looks back down at her drink.]

Are you a recent arrival or have you been in the city long?

[i_love_squats]

[Another bar. He had lived through a long day, too long of a day really, and he wanted someplace to relax, kick up his feet, take a breather. The establishments run by the natives weren't the most huggy-friendly-welcoming shacks, and if this proved well... maybe he and Elena could talk about endorsing it with Shinra. Who knows.

[But that was far off, neither here nor there, and all he wanted was a beer, something to wet his proverbial whistle. Collapsing down at an empty table, he smiled and looked up at the ceiling, glad to have these few rare moments between the three --count 'em, three-- jobs he was trying to juggle.

[And that's if you didn't count the war he had with Yazoo and the make-shift family he was trying to hold together.

[One gloved-hand raised into the air for a beer while his free one set his sword off to the side, leaning it against the wall. Just one. Just one, and he'd behave.]

[stray_gunner]

[It's strange to find himself sitting in a bar like he could actually be affected by alcohol. As if he were actually anywhere near normal.]

[He knows he isn't, and the fact isn't unfamiliar.]

[He doesn't say much, only curls his fingers around the glass of (alien?) alcohol, and watches the rest of the room.]

[If anyone does try to challenge him to a drinking game, he might even accept.]