Just A Bad Day


abby_icon.gif ben_icon.gif huruma_icon.gif isabelle_icon.gif lou_icon.gif nicolas_icon.gif viviane_icon.gif

Scene Title Just A Bad Day
Synopsis Lou bears the brunt of someone's bad day, and meets the Bouncer and the Nun of Old Lucy's and some of it's regular and soon to be regular customers. Someones probably not taking his co-workers advice on where to go drink from here on in.
Date January 13, 2009

Old Lucy's

Old Lucy's has a vibrant and lively feel to it, from the dark wooden floors to the shady crimson walls lit up by neon lights and many times, the flashing of cameras from the oft-crowded floor. The mirror behind the bar reflects prices of various drinks, bottles lined up, as well as the entire saloon as seen from the bartenders; bolted-down stools line the other side, and there are loose tables and chairs placed all around, though many times they find themselves pushed back for more space within the center of the saloon. A few speakers are placed at strategic places and around a raised stage to the far corner from the bar. Above the counter, an obviously well-used bar is hung; it is this that the girls working will use should there be dancing, which is one reason many patrons choose to come aside from the drinks. Across the bar and near the back, there is a door that leads to the owner's office and just inside a stairwell that leads a apartment on the floor above the bar.

The bar's not busy yet, but promises to be in a few hours, work day over and night officially sets in. Old lucy's where people say it's just like coyote ugly. Except that some people know, it's a little more than that, thanks to the bartenders. Some known, some not. One of the others is at the far end of the bar, filling orders, Abby'd hauled her ass in five minutes earlier in a fashion that could be miscontrued as zombie with how aware she was. The music's not blaring yet, the ladies haven't started doing thier dancing on the bar yet, and the televisons are turned to something. Wrapping her bar apron around her waist, the living zombie shuffles out from the back, a tank top, snugs jeans, belt, boots, bruises on one arm in the form of fingertips. Beelinging straight for the redbull and monsters that are awaiting beneath the counter for customer and bartender.

Nicolas pushes open the door to the bar, scanning over the place. He smiles as he sees it's not too busy. He takes off his jacket as he makes his way to the bar, sliding on the bar stool that he had taken the last time he was here, placing the jacket on the stool next to him. He looks to Abby and offers her a smile. "Hey, nun." He says to her as he leans against the bar, his forearms resting on the bar top.

Not far behind Nicolas, Lou comes striding in. He looks like a man with an axe to grind, and measuring in well above six feet tall, he looks like he's got every means to do so. Dancing girls on the bar the boys at the shop tell him—and all he sees are teevees and neon signs like every other bar in town. Yay. There's a quick, low grunt of dissatisfaction as he strides to the bar, sliding a twenty across the top and keeping his hand over it in case someone should decide to arrive to take his order. In the meantime, he looks like the only words he's looking to hear are, 'what can I get you to drink?'

"Hey Flirt" Abby fires back after peeking up over the bar, blue eyes about all he gets before she surfaces with a couple red bulls. "Same as last time?" She pops one tab with a flinch, turning it to align opening with her body before she lifts it and guzzles down the whole drink. Southern may be her manners, not so when it comes to the precious liquid that is red bull. The aluminum can when it's drain is tossed to the grey tub behind the bar for drink and the tab of a second one is popped. "Nope, that name doesn't feel right. I'll try another. Irish car bomb right?" Then there's Lou. She's too tired to even smile. "Welcome to Old Lucy's whats your poison?"'

"Scotch an' soda," Lou replies, three syllables seems to do the trick. He lifts his hand off the bill to allow for payment, and smile or not, he doesn't seem to carehe's still taking a moment to scan the bar critically. Dirt, dirt, dingy tables, scuzz on the jukebox, drunks in the corner, worn felt on the pool table (which is one of those damned quarter-play numbers) and the bartendermeh, who's bothering to look? Nic manages to gain a half-hearted wave of acknowledgment as Lou catches the movement from the corner of his eye, but that seems to be as good as it's getting for the moment.

The evening gets just one person busier as Ben finally shows his face in the bar again, pulling off his knit cap and stuffing it into his jacket pocket. He reaches up absently to pat his hair back down and half-fails.

"Long night" There's an implication in those words. The second red bull's guzzled again, the third is left to the side. Chug, chug, chug, goes the energy drink. "Visiting a friend in the hospital this morning" Now this can is slightly crushed under her finger and tossed into the grey tub. "Scotch and soda, irish car bomb" Time to get to work. Much as she's rather curl up in a corner and sleep. "Hey Brian" when familiar guy number two comes in. "No, I tried that name, doesn't feel right, I'll find you one yet" Bottles grabbed from behind, soda water poured from the tap, and soon Lou's got his drink in front of him. His twenty is taken and the appropriate change is passed back. It's a reasonable price for the drink. "what are you going to have to drink Ben?" speaks the blonde healer, who looks like she might just pass for old enough to drink. Guinness, in a pint glass, the other two ingredients in the shot glass, working fast as she can.

Nicolas nods his head and chuckles. "Yeah. I'm not that big of a flirt really. You just had caught me at an odd day." He says before he glances back at Ben as he arrives, offering him a nod as well before he looks back to Abby, watching her do her thing.

Lou pulls out enough for a 50% tip and shoves it into one of the nearby jars—mood or not, there ain't no excuse for not tippin', or at least for not tippin' someone who didn't put you in the mood. Snatch. Tip. Sip. Glug. Gone. CLINK! the glass is back on the bar, emptied with all the precision of a frat boy on a mission. And there's the rest of the change, oh-so-handy to pay for the next one.

Ben heads for the bar and takes a seat by Abby's end. "Do you do Dirty Pirates yet? Otherwise it's a rum and Coke." He nods to Nicolas and Lou amiably, unzipping his coat and resting his elbows on the bartop.

"Root beer. I learned it just for you" Slowly caffeine is kicking in, as her heart gets that kick from the stimulants and caffeine in the red bulls. She looks to Lou though, surprise at the tip. "Thank you. Really. I appreciate it. My names Abigail if you need anything. Place should get to kicking into ge…" Nope, already into gear as Loud music kicks in and the other bartender is hauling ass up onto the bar to do her thing and hold onto the poles, one of the others from the back doing it too. There's a reason she's the nun. Her feet stay on Terra Firma and not on the bar top. "Lemme get that drink for you ben. How are your guy's day? Anything interesting?"

Nicolas shrugs his shoulders for a moment as he looks back to the source of the music as it kicks in before he looks back towards Abby and takes the shot glass and Guinness, holding the shot glass over the pint of Guinness. He drops the shot glass into the pint with a ploop. Again, him making the sound before he starts to chug the whole thing.

"Guy with a heart attack earlier," Ben tells Abby, eying the Red Bull briefly with an amused expression. "Car accident. Some lab work. Let's just say the Dirty Pirate is appreciated." He glances up at one of the girls dancing, tilts his head and watches for a few moments, then shakes his head and looks back down at the bar.

Ben's nod nets him a half-assed wave—probably the best anyone's getting at this stage. If the music isn't interrupting Abby, Lou sure is. Less chatty-chatty, more servy-servy. "'Nother." Least the girls are dancing now, and Lou's getting an eyeful. Somehow bereft of his usual 'leering construction-worker' charm, he settles for lightening his scowl as he stares.

Round and round the girls go, up and down the bar, and three minutes later, it's done and Abby's got a root beer in hand for Ben's pirate. "My heart won't explode. You know it, stop looking at it like that" There's traces of perky Abby surfacing. "All the stuff I have to look forward to hmm?" Into a glass, the root beer, Kahlua, Morgans spiced rum and even, after rescuing a small carton of half and half, the drink is slid in front of Ben. "Another one, Scotch and soda" Lou's demeanor is noticed. "You okay?" A bottle of beer magically makes it's way from the cooler, cap popped and placed in front of Nick then a shot glass grabbed. "What should I give Ford here? He asks for a shot of whatever I want to give him, what would you suggest. He's not a tequila guy" The last asked of Lou.

Ben peers into the glass. "That's a lot more complicated than how I make them, but it looks good," he notes, raising the glass to his lips for a sip. He turns his head toward Lou, interested in the guy's answer to Abby's question. And in how he's gonna handle distractions from the T&A.

Lou just STARES back at Abby. No dance-appreciation here… As his lips part one might actually expect him to suggest 'a tall, cool glass of Shut The Fuck Up and Get My Drink,' but instead there's just a grim, "Everclear if you got it, 151 if you don't."

Abby tilts her head, a wary look Lou's way. "No Everclear here" She's studied the bottles, she knows what the place has and hasn't. "Ben? Suggestions" since mr. Grumpy pants is being… grumpy pants.

"I think that's illegal here," Ben says with some amusement. "Shit. Uh… Rum and Coke's usually a safe bet. Gin and tonic maybe." He shrugs. "Or just take a bunch of bottles and mix things. He'd sort of deserve it."

"No everclear and you can't scrounge up some Bacardi," Lou grumps questioningly… you can tell it's a question because one of his eyebrows arches a bit more than the other. "Huh. An' here I was thinkin' this -wasn't- a Chuck-e-cheez." He snorts and downs his second drink with the same haste as the first, once again dropping a respectable tip in the jar.

The man who the drink is for, has conveniently gone to the little boys room while this was all going on. The forlorn and empty shot glass beside the beer and awaiting it's contents. The bunch of bottles and mix things is about to be replied to when Lou speaks up again. It's a pressing tight of lips, a close of the blondes eyes. 'You know what. I'm not appreciating this. I'm really not" Abby reaches over to the tip jar that money was jsut put it, taking out everything that he's put in and puts it on the counter. A plastic cup is scooped into the open ice bin below and in a fit of.. non violent aggression, the ice is summarily tossed at sonny, though she still holds onto the cup.

Ben half stands, placing one hand on the bar top. "Whoa, whoa, Abby. Don't toss ice at the customers. Fiestiness looks better on paper than on someone's shirt."

Nicolas comes back from the bathroom, returning to his stool. He makes sure his jacket and drinks are still there. He slides back onto the stool and leaning back against the bar. "So, this is what it's like when it's busy, huh?"

Lou watches with detachment as she snatches his tips back and places them on the counter in front of him. Then the ice. Aside from a quick blink he doesn't even flinch. "If ya didn't have tits, you'd be gatherin' up yer teeth, Hun," Lou drawls with a half sneer before moving on down the line. The cash stays right were she left it, and a $100 conspicuously goes right into the jar of the girl farthest down the bar. "Pitcher of Coors. Hold the ice," he quips, seeming somewhat in higher spirits.

"Better than a shot glass embedded in the forehead" Is muttered under the younger woman's breath. Abby's a wee bit high strung, glowering and decidedly unhappy. "Yes, the others get on the bar now and then, do their thing" She makes no move to take the tip nor seems to even care that the other girl got money. Just grabs a pitcher and fills it while grabbing the same scotch that Lou got and filling the shot glass beside Nick's beer with it. "Want the pitcher in your lap, in front of you or on your head?"

Ben settles back down on his stool, picking up his glass and having another sip. "Yee," he says under his breath. Abby is crusty!

Lou actually smiles at the bartender he actually placed the order with, an almost charming look. "No rush, Hun. Why I'll even pay for the spare the kid is holding," Lou says, apparently choosing to ignore Abby's trot down the bar to get his beer, the threat about glass and foreheads, and even the advice of the gents on down the bar where he started out.

Except that bartender just looks between Lou and Abigail, with the pitcher of beer in hand and striding down to the other end. "Kid. Kid with the beer, that's great, that's nice. Being a jerk. A grade A asshole are we?" The pitchers put down on the counter, some of it sloshing over the rim and towards him. "Here you go, a pitcher of coors, without the ice. On the house" And on his lap as she tilts it over letting it go onto it's side and a wave of beer tsunami's over the counter, the other end from Nicolas and Ben. "Let me get a mop, looks like I spilled it"

Ben reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose with a wince. "Abby. How understanding a boss is Isabelle, again?"

Nicolas watches the exchange between Lou and Abby, his beer stopped a few inches from his lips as he sits there motionless as Abby starts to pour the pitcher onto Lou's lap. "Oh fuck."

Lou placidly stands by while the beer is dumped on him. Sure, he's not a cripple, sure, he can move, sure, he could have seen it coming and reacted in a million ways, but he didn't. Instead he simply stands there. Drenched in beer. Color's rising in his face, and to judge by the vein throbbing at his forehead, it's not embarrassment. No. He reaches out and slowly grasps the pitcher, then turns it over in his hands, slowly examining every curve and line… even noting the tiny dribbles of suds still left inside.

"Cute." He abruptly swings the pitcher around in an arc, sending it hurtling down the bar and right towards Abby's tip jar. The plastic may not carry much weight, but it's enough to put a decent crack in both the tip container and split the pitcher. "Looks like I spilled somethin' too. You wanna make good on that shot glass comment, then step on 'round to this side, hun."

"Oh, oh I don't put the shot glass in people's forehead" Abby snarls back. "I just pour the fucking beer in people's laps and over their head, toss some ice at them, so if you want to try that again, being as asshole you can get out because I am not in the mood to deal with assholes today. I've had enough of them. Or you can sit down, enjoy the fucking bar, and the tenders, and stop being an asshole. I'm not a nun today" the little vein throbs in Abby's temple too, because now she has to clean up broken glass, and there's far too much adrenaline running through her.

Ben watches the tip jar go skittering and winces again at the shattered glass. He tosses back a gulp of his drink and stands up, walking toward the end of the bar to start to go behind it. "Abigail? Let's take a time out in the back room, okay?"

Nick watches the empty pitcher fly right past him and into the tip jar. He sets down his beer bottle and shakes his head. "Fuck." Is all he says before he takes up the shot glass and slams it back, setting the empty glass back on the bar, looking down the bar at Lou.

When you're going to work, the last thing you want to hear is fighting and yelling; while there is nothing audible on the street, to Huruma's senses it seems as just that. Anger, fear, more anger. Boiling anger. It is enough to make Huruma pick up her own pace and slip down into the bar without a sound and in practically record time. She's dressed in black again today, tight leather clothes and tall boots that scrape her among the lower light fixtures- and with only the accent of her white eyes, teeth, and reddened lips offsetting the dark tones. As Huruma slips into the door, she takes immediate note of her surroundings and saunters right in as if this were indeed her own territory. In some ways, it is. Though she can feel that boiling anger, she does little to massage it away.

"Tha's right, Abigail, I'm th'one wit'th'shotglasses." Oh, yes, the panther has got ears, and a voice like sharp ice, quickly looming up from the room proper and over the bar, just behind Lou. "Sit down an'behave, or leave."

Lou says, "You're not a damn nun any day, BITCH. And if you got a problem dealing with assholes, then I got two suggestions for ya: ONE: stop dressin' up and playin' bartender because if you can't find some fucking rum you don't deserve to be IN a bar, much less behind one. Assholes are part of your fuckin' job description, an' if ya don't believe it, ask one of the REAL bartenders back there with ya. If you can't handle a little poke in the ribs without throwin' shit around then toddle your juvenile ass on back to daycare or go walk the street corner you came from." Lou pauses for only a fraction of a second… that much venom uses up a lot of breath. "TWO: don't go lookin' in any fuckin' mirrors, you ditzy little twat."

"Wish granted, ma'am," Lou replies to the newest entry, turning his gaze to look her square in the eye. "Although if you wanna give them shotglasses a try, I'll be right outside." he takes only a moment to smooth his nerves, managing to shove down the anger just far enough to shoot the third bartender as genuine a smile as he can. "And you keep that tip, hun. You didn't do a thing deservin' of me takin' it away." And… That's all folks! Long, purposeful strides take Lou towards the door."

"I'm FINE Ben" Abby snaps at the guy coming around the bar, Huruma startling her a bit, though it's just the eyes and the whole prescence of the woman. But Lou's still rattling off at the mouth and it's just building up the blonde, But she's blown up enough, enough to shoulder past ben and go into the backroom herself, search of broom and dustpan, to smolder.

"Could've fooled me," is Ben's muttered response; one of the other bartenders eyes him - tresspasser - and he holds up his hands and backs back toward the customer side of the bar. Lou's back is given a rueful, somewhat apologetic look, not that it does any good. Huruma's given a stare and a couple of blinks, because she cuts an unusual figure. Right. Booze. Ben reclaims his seat and his Dirty Pirate.

Nick looks to Lou at his outburst of huge proportions and then watches as he storms towards the door. He looks back to Abby then picks up his beer and shakes his head. "What a douche." He says to no one in particular before he takes a swig from the beer.

Even though Lou is aiming to depart, still angry- Huruma's eyes follow him like poisonous darts as he moves. She does not move any more than her neck to watch him, the muscles underneath of what ebony skin shows growing tense as if Huruma were tempted to give chase.

Say bye-bye to your anger, Lou. A fitting attempt is being made- and Huruma's mind is pressing inwards on Lou's, bringing with it some nervousness. Some fear. Some unnatural guilt. You can leave, yes, but here- take this generally Bad Feeling with you.

Abigail's storming back in as he's going out, Huruma mentally badtouching him. Livid blonde with a big tin can, a small kitchen brush and dustpan in her hand as she kneels down to start taking care of the broken glass, separating it from the money in the jar. Her own emotions one big angry fearful guilt ridden ball, the opposite of what the woman normally is. But this hasn't been a normal day. Jsut silently, with sharp quick motions, taking care of the mess she made.

Ben spends another few moments surreptitiously looking at Huruma's eyes - is that a medication condition? Has he seen that in a textbook? - though he turns a concerned look Abby's way. "That was a little weird."

Nick just goes back to his beer and nods. "Yeah. What a way to kill the mood." He says as he downs the majority of his beer before he sets it down on the bar top.

Huruma lifts her upper lip in a small sneer, heading to where Abby is cleaning up the mess and crouching down like a big, black-covered gargoyle. During which, her eyes have wandered to the patrons, and incidentally over both Ben and Nick in turn.

Huruma turns her palms out to Abby with a slow, almost cooing word and a silent sway of the girl's anger away from her brain, which is replaced with an almost cool wave of calm. "Let m'get this. 'Ou sit down." No use for her to cut herself- that might just be bad and …weird now that Huruma is there.

'I don't nee.. I don't need to sit down. This is my mess, I'll clean it up" Abby answers, going from snappy to calmer by the end of it, enough to add on "Please" towards Huruma. Huruma and Abby are behind the bar, a pool of beer out in front of the counter at the far end, a smashed tip jar on the counter and behind the counter. Nick and Ben sitting, watching, drinking. The aftermath of a bartender customer brawl. But the blonde just sighs, at the mess and passes the hand broom and dustpan to Huruma.

Coming out of the back room, slinging a dish rag over her shoulder like a seasoned pro, Vivienne makes her way into the main room with a cigarette perched at the corner of her lips. She hauls a carton of beer towards the front counter as if to restock the supply all the while grumbling at the patrons that manage to get in her way, "Move it… now." Despite her task, she does take note of the rather distracted stance of some patrons and uneasy feel within the room — all of which only seems to elicit a louder grumble, "What the fuck?"

Ben rubs his cheek and has another, bigger swig of his drink, a more complex Dirty Pirate than he ever drank in his school days. He smiles thinly at Vivienne, since hey, he recognizes her.

Nick glances back towards Vivienne as she appears before he looks to Abby and frowns as he looks at her. "Don't let him get to you, doll. He's just a jackass. We all got your back." He says to her.

"Yeah?! Well don't be fucking calling me anymore Carlos alright?" A female yells and a car can be heard screeching away. "Bastard!" Isabelle yells as she kicks open the door to the bar. A few.. OK who are we kidding. All the patrons turn towards the bartender who is storming into the bar. Carlos is one of her /old/ friends.. just an friend. Isabelle is dressed in a white tank top, a pair of black jeans and black boots. Her hair is tousled and she looks.. /furious/. "Last time I try to help out that fucker." She curses and gets behind the bar to lean against the sink. Her eyes are narrowed and it's a shock that /something/ hasn't been burned to the ground yet.

Two long-fingered hands take the broom and pan from Abby, and with almost practiced precision, Huruma simply gathers the entire mess into the pan first. Sorting can come soon, just get the money off of the floor.

As Vivienne makes herself verbal and Isabelle seems to storm in, Huruma's calm expression purses into a frown as she stands up straight and makes her way towards the bar; one hand has a small broom in it, and the other is with a dustpan full of the Tip Jar. "Ladies, please." Simmer down, before I clock someone in the head with this broom.

Abby's rubbing her face, opting to take a seat on the floor, a section behind the bar that's not strewn with glass or coins. Isabelle's voice, Viviane's voice. "No Ben, because that woman screaming at Carlos, is my boss" which should explain a whole bunch about whether Isabelle's going to be understanding or not. "sorry" mumbled to Huruma, equal parts sheepish and appeasing to the dark skinned woman. "Thank you Ford" Ford being Nick.

"Ah. The one with the yelling. Yeah, I remember her," Ben tells Abby, eying Isabelle briefly. "There is almost too much girl power in this room to breathe."

Nick offers Abby a smile and nods as he looks at her. "No problem." He says before he blinks for a moment and raises an eyebrow. He tilts his head slightly as he looks to Abby. "Ford?" He says before he shrugs and takes another drink from his beer.

Isabelle blinks at Huruma but takes a deep breath before shaking her head and leaning against the bar. "Alright, how is everyone?" She asks and looks at all the people she knows. Nick gets a special wink and grin. "Sorry about that.. friend of mine is just.. going down the wrong path."

"See, tha'wasn't hard." Huruma comments offhand, a brush of air passing out her nose while she finds a new jar and begins to sort out the money from the glass inside of the dustpan. She faces the room from her place behind the bar, with Abby apparently curled up to her left hand side. "We'ad a troublemaker. Hopefully if he returns- Abby will not b'alone to deal wit'im." Hint. Her eyes flicker down towards the girl. "I think somebody is jus'having a bad day, mmm?"

"Monumentally bad day" Abby answers Huruma still from her hiding spot behind the bar. "Wasn't alone though" there had been another but she made herself scarce once the equipment started flying. "Very bad day. Healed two people and not small things"

Ben is nearing the end of his drink. "Sounds like you could use some rest," he supplies, even though nobody really asked him.

Nick looks to Abby and frowns as he listens to her as he takes a swig from his beer. He looks up as he hears Isabelle, raising his beer bottle in a greeting before he takes another drink before setting the bottle down on the bar top.

"You.. sit." Izzy says to Abby and she nods at Huruma, whoever this fucktard is messing with Abby is in for a rude awakening. "I mean it." And to prove that she means it, Isabelle takes Abby's arm and leads her to take a seat.

Huruma is certainly not deaf, considering. Healed two people today? The tall woman can only watch Abby intently as Isabelle makes to hoist her away, fingers pausing in replacing the money to the new jar.

'Was already sitting" Huruma's forced calm is still in place, the blonde malleable and obeying the fire starter as she's led around the bar and parked beside Ben. She doesn't miss the woman's look or the pause. "Yes. You heard right" She folds her arms in front of her, leaning her head down to pillow her chin on them.

Ben sighs, finishing the last of his drink and eyeing Abby with a briefly irritated expression. He digs into his wallet and stands up, shaking his head.

Nick continues to drink his beer, draining the last of it before he sets the bottle down on the bar top before, letting the others take care of Abby and the situation.

"Abby, you can still heal everyone. But listen.. you /have/ to take care of yourself too. Got it? They can wait a day while you get rest, got it?" Isabelle looks serious.

Ben raises his eyebrows at Abby, tips his head toward Isabelle, and then heads out.

Ben has left.

Huruma simply eyes both Abby and Isabelle from afar, eventually wandering past them to throw the glass away. She cannot help but keep her eyes on The Nun. It is hard to tell if it is curiosity or cautiousness.

"I know!" Irritation creeping into Abby's voice at Isabelle's cautioning. "I know, I know it Isabelle" Ben gets a wave as she sees him go before she lowers her head, forehead pressed to the back of her palms. "It's just a bad day. I'm allowed a bad day. I don't, please I don't need a lecture." She stares at the counter top, instead of everyone else "and no they couldn't. Can I go home, or do you need me here still? Or can I just go upstairs and have an hour or two of sleep and then I can work. I get.." touchy is the unsaid word.

Nick looks at the others for a moment, opting to remain silent. It's not his place to join in. He just starts to peel the label off his beer bottle.

Isabelle sighs and looks down at Abby, "Everyone has there bad days, sugar. You just don't have enough of them." The bartender nods her head at the apartment upstairs. "Go on and sleep. If you don't get up until late, it doesn't matter I want you to rest." Isabelle grins softly and points upstairs. She isn't hurt by Abby's irritation, she is actually glad that the young woman is expressing herself.

"I'll be back later. Thank you Isabelle" The blonde murmurs, pulling herself up from the stool at the counter. "Drinks on me Nick, take it out of my tips" There's a nod to Huruma another "thank you" before she disappears through the door to the back room and for all intent purposes, upstairs to Isabelle's place.

Nick looks to Abby and offers a wave. "Hope you feel better and don't worry about that asshole." He says as he smiles slightly.

The pyro watches as Abby leaves and when the door closes. "Huruma, who are we killing?" meaning the asshole they are talking about. Izzy blinks and looks from Nick to Huruma.

Huruma stops at the table Abby had been sitting at, leaning her hip on the edge to face Isabelle and peer at Nick over the woman's head. "I only came at th'end." And distinctly more quiet, and just to Isabelle after Huruma does lean closer to whisper: "Does sh'really do wha'she implied…?" Abby. Healing. That.

Nick looks up to one of the other bartenders, letting the two women talk. Discussing business stuff no doubt. He signals for another drink, opting to let Abby keep her tips and pay for it himself. He places a twenty in both the bartender and Abby's tip jars.

"Yes but she is untouchable. Meaning if we need her then we may ask her to heal but she wouldn't be interested in /us/." Izzy whispers back to Huruma and then looks to Nicolas. "That guy Nick, he is like us. I am thinking of asking him to join us. He could be /very/ useful." A smile is given to Nicolas she gives Huruma a look saying that they will talk more later.

Huruma appears satisfied with this explanation, enough to tilt her head in her eying of Nick, and nod in response to Isabelle's words before wandering back to the bar to clock in properly and therefore- get on with her reason for being here. Throwing people out, of course.

Nick downs some of his beer as he looks up and watches the television for a few minutes, idly taking a few more drinks of his beer.

"Ok guys! I'll be back in a sec, need to get some stuff from the basement." Isabelle says and nods at Huruma, she leans in close to Nicolas and whispers in his ear. "I need to talk you later." A smiles crosses her lips and she runs a hand through Nicolas' hair before making her way to the basement.

<January 13th: In The Shadows Of Angels' Wings
January 13th: Seeing the Invisible
Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License