Amidst the rubble of a war not long past, the stars seek to raise a new generation. Blessed with celestial powers that have begun to make their reappearance, the Gifted are individuals whose shoulders the future of the city rests on. Will you overthrow the dysfunctional government or work to keep it in power? Or will you undermine the whole game and play to your own advantage? No matter your motives, Hyperion is yours to shape.
Lex yawned as he took off his jacket, and putting it on a coat hook in the back room of the bar. He had a long night before, and just recently woke up in order to open the bar for the afternoon and evening. He generally made it a point to open the bar, and heard the clanking of pots and pans in the kitchen as his co-owner began to get ready for any brunch or appetizers people ordered. Adjusting his tie and semi-dress clothes, he set out and dried some fresh glasses for any feature patrons. He adjusted the bottles along the wall to have their labels facing out, and further dusted off some of the tables, making sure everything would be clean for anyone who made their way in at this time of the day.
Everything cleaned up, he took a moment to sit back against the bar and relax. He took out a D battery, feeling a bit of hunger spring up from his power. Sticking the leads between his teeth and biting down, Lex triggered his power of Devour, allowing the batteries power to flow into him rapidly. It felt sort of like an energy drink for him, like getting a quick hit of caffine in order to wake up. As the battery finished draining, he dropped it into his hand and tossed it into the trash. Getting up, he knocked on the wooden panel that separated the kitchen from the main room. “Hey boss, mind brewing me up a cup of coffee while the stoves warm up? I think I’m gonna need something strong today.” A faint affirmative grunt could be heard faintly from behind the wall, and Lex moseyed his way over to the door. He flipped the sign in the window, allowing those passing to see the small hole-in-the-wall bar known as Valhalla was now open. Making his way back to the counter, he heard the ding of a bell, and a nice mug of black coffee came sliding across the mini bar at the back the cook used to get the food to the front.
Lex picked it up and took a sip. It was definitely caffeinated, and a little thick, but it was just how he liked it, and definitely helped perk him up. As he felt the warm liquid run down his throat, he let out a sigh and leaned forward over the bar. Pulling out a small matchbook from his pocket, he pulled out and struck a match, holding it up to his mouth like he was smoking a cigarette before absorbing the fire’s energy in in a gentle huff. Letting the heat roll around inside him, he swung the match, dissipating its smoke before tossing it in a nearby ashtray, the bell above the door ringing. He turned his way, a little surprised that he had business this quickly, but happy to have company none-the-less. With a gentle smile he greeted his new guest. “Howdy, and welcome to Valhalla. What can I do you for today?”
The sun blazed bright and brilliant, the few wisps of cloud that hung overhead providing no relief so close to the bay. The heat rolled in off the coast, bringing with it the unmistakable scent of brine – and Altair adored it. He was less adoring towards the temperature, which had seen him discard his typical cardigan for a white dress shirt and a pair of black slacks. Today he wore his hair pulled back from his face, in a high-tailed ponytail that showed off the fine lines of his face, the sharpness of his jawline that was softened somewhat by the dimple that occasionally made an appearance on his right cheek when he smiled. And today, he entered Valhalla alone – his long-time drinking buddy despaired at inferior caffeination, but it was also a matter of their differing schedules.
Namely, Altair had no appointments set up for the day, so he was free to stroll through Hyperion – except everyone was working, himself not included. Which meant his typical entertainment was nowhere to be found, and so at least he found his steps leading to Valhalla – and so it was that he entered the air-conditioned building with a relieved sigh, because even he was subject to the torment of uncomfortable conditions. And the outside certainly counted as such right now.
He raised his hand in a lackadaisical greeting as the door’s bell rang cheerfully above him. His eyes sized up the almost-empty room quickly – and he flashed his teeth in a tomcat’s grin at the barkeep already on duty.
“I saw you were open,” he said, and he moved further into the room with the languid grace of a prowling predator. There was a lent bravado to his movements, his words, his actions – and it spoke of an easy confidence that paved the way to all doors opening. Put more simply: the open or closed condition of the bar was immaterial to him – it was open because he had decided he would visit, and that was the way of the world.
“Coffee?” He offered another smile, smaller, less grandiose – and there was a slackening to the pressure that he carried with him at all times. Absent-mindedly, he withdrew his phone from a back pocket and tapped on his emails, flicking through to make sure none of his patients had sent him an emergency contact. Satisfied, he set it down on the counter and leaned forward to rest his chin on his open palm, another smile flitting along the edges of his lips. “Probably a bit too early to start drinking.”
[attr="class","soleiltext"]Reaching up, Soleil fiddled with her earring as she inspected the note in her hand and the building in front of her. Elegant brows furrowing, she checked and double-checked that the address she had written down matched the scrawling words on the side of the establishment. This was not what she had been expecting when her boss had all too cheerily evicted her from the office earlier that day.
“You’ve been working too hard lately. You should go and have some fun,” he insisted with a jovial grin, forcing a fifty dollar bill and the address to an establishment he frequented into her hand. “I don’t want to see you until tomorrow, you hear?”
And, though she wanted to argue, Soleil hadn’t managed to climb the corporate ranks without learning to pick her battles. She could let this one slide. Spend an afternoon appeasing her boss, and he’ll be much more likely to leave her alone in the future. Slapping on a fake smile, she made sure to throw a dash of sheepishness and gratitude into her movements as she thanked him and waved goodbye when he returned to the office. As soon as he was out of view, her face returned to its regular expression without so much as a hint of her the eagerness she had just displayed. After a moment to type the address into her phone’s GPS, she was off, the fifty dollar bill tucked away into the deep recesses of her wallet. As she made her way to the station, Soleil was already planning a way to subtly return the money to her boss’s pockets; treating him a to nice lunch later in the week should do it, and it would be the perfect chance to improve her relationship with him. Ensuring that her higher ups held her in good standing never hurt, and it would be the perfect chance to bring up how much she loved his suggestion.
Of course, that was all before she knew that he had sent her to a bar.
Soleil had never been one for drinking or rowdiness. Sure, she enjoyed a glass of red wine every now and then, but bars and clubs had never been her scene. If she wanted to knock back a few, one could be sure that she wanted to do so in peace. And sitting next to a bunch of intoxicated strangers could hardly offer her the tranquility she sought. But, what’s done was done. She was already here — had rode the subway for a good hour to be here! — and there were potential brownie points to be scored. Besides, it was still the afternoon. If she was quick, she could walk in, grab a snack, and beat it before the early bird alcoholics stormed the joint. Though, if she was heading in, Soleil doubted she would actually put her briefcase and its contents to any use. It would be better to stash it away for now rather than risk getting it dirty somehow.
Sighing resignedly, she narrowed her eyes in focus as she willed a familiar, pitch-black hole into existence in the space in front of her. About the size of a safe, it was completely flat and would appear like a strange ink stain on the scenery. But, Soleil was able to lift her briefcase and slide it into the hole as though there was depth to it, and the polished leather disappeared into the darkness as though it had never been there in the first place. With everything, fingers included, having been cleared of the hole, Soleil was able to relax. With her lack of concentration, the hole shrank rapidly, dwindling away to nothing in a blink of an eye and taking her work with it. Job done, Soleil reached for the door, but stopped short as a sharp ache pulsed in her temples. She had been expecting it. Using her powers never went without consequences. But, the savagery of the pain was unusual, and it left her reeling for a moment before she could collect herself.
Gritting her teeth, she took a deep breath and walked into the rustic building. On another day, she might have actually be impressed by Valhalla’s atmosphere and cleanliness, but today was not that day. Marching up to the bar, she looked at the red-haired bartender and said, “Excuse me, but do you have any tea? To go, preferably?”
egs crossed over one another. Eyes scanning the paper in hand. Sliding to and fro in the seat. There sat Ambrosia Merigold, the notorious environmentalist. Well, terrorist turned environmentalist but the change in titles made no difference as a terrorist was a glorified environmentalist! At least that's what Ambrosia told herself. She moved her eyes back to the paper she held. It held a summary of S.U.C.C's monetary transactions over the last month. Ambrosia knew that certain fiends in her group couldn't be trusted. Unfortunately for Billie Jean Ambrosia was just one step ahead of him.
"Mhmmph," as if hearing her thoughts the man in question attempted to yell through the cloth that covered his mouth.
"Shhhh," Ambrosia emphasized her words with a single finger pressing against the cloth that hampered his communication. Her red elongated nail jabbing into the man's flesh, but he knew better than to make another fuss.
"I know what you're thinking. 'Oh, I can't escape S.U.C.C so I'll just get some information. Waltz into the police station and they'll shorten my sentence AND put a stop to S.U.C.C. Right? Well let me tell yo-" Ambrosia's words were cut off by a sudden jolt of the van.
"Can't you guys drive I don't know....BETTER!? I'm trying to monologue back here!" Ambrosia yelled to the two goons driving this getaway van.
"Sorry ma'am. It's hard to drive when there are so many cops chasing us!" Another sudden swerve emphasis his point.
"Really? Let me see how many..." Ambrosia proceeded to open the van's door and stick her head out of the car. It wasn't the BIGGEST number of cops she had chasing her but the size was impressive. Considering how they gassed the police station and kidnapped Billy Jean right in the lobby this number was understandable. Once the bullets started flying towards her, Ambrosia did like a turtle and escaped back in the van. She turned her attention back towards Billie Jean.
"Anyway, blah, blah, blah. I am a genius and no simpleton like you could escape me. I've literally done this HUNDREDS of times before and you can get the jist of my words, no? Anyway boys-" She snapped to get the two goons attention.
"Get us out of here and drop me off once we lose sight of the cops. I'll meet you back at the base and-" She paused and tapped her chin with her red fingernails. Thinking....thinking....thinking. Then she snapped her fingers as an idea emerged.
"Put our friend, Billie, here in that suit we got yesterday. You know the one right?"
"That one that we robbed from the Chuck E. Cheese?" The passenger inquired.
"Yes, yes, that one! See, I knew it was a good call keeping you around Robert." Ambrosia said with a wide smile and clap of the hands.
"B-but...my name is Jeff," 'Robert' mumbled underneath his breath.
"Anyway, I'll be going soon but remember-" Ambrosia said and stalked closer to Billie. Her narrowed, snake-like eyes looking into his frightened sheepish ones.
"I. Will. Be. Waiting." With each word she emphasized it by sending a single finger underneath his chin.
The goons in front felt pity for the man behind them. They too once desired to escape from this organization but they were fearful of Ambrosia's punishments. They knew to never turn against a crazy bitch like her. So they meekly did their jobs in order to protect their own lives.
"Ma'am we've lost them I'll let you off in front of this bar." The driver said and the car hit a sudden stop. Ambrosia wasted no time and threw open the door. While getting out from the van she adjusted her clothes. She straightened out her checkered button up and matching mini-skirt. Underneath her skirt she wore leggings. Giving herself a nod she threw open the bar door and the bell rung.
"Ambrosia Merigold is here!" She announced to the bar and the door closed with a 'thump'. A few silent seconds past and a parade of police sirens filled the area. In Ambrosia's opinion it made her announcement just that more grandiose. Then again, the woman named Ambrosia Merigold never knew subtly.
Her eyes roamed the bar in an instance. Taking note of all the possible exits, the people occupying it, and even the general atmosphere. She was no amateur when escaping. Then again, all possible places were exits with powers like her's.
Ambrosia moved with barely contained energy and took a seat beside a pony-tail stranger. She was feeling great, livid actually. She had just escaped the police and got to play around with Billie once she got back. Everything was just going so well!
"Strawberry Milk if you will." She told the bartender with wide smile.
Peering at the figure walking in, He immediately recognized the regular, a smile coming across his lips and a soft chuckle as the man walked in and made himself at home. “Good afternoon, Doc. Not late again for my appointment am I? I keep telling you, it’s the alcohol that has a dependence on me, not the other way around.” He chuckled a bit at his own joke, releasing an air of brevity in order to calm the mood.
He smiled at the man’s request of course, slinging the towel over his own shoulder as he took a sip of his own. Once again his smile brimmed wide with the air of a joke. “I don’t know, your coffee is always so complicated to make. What was it again?” As he made the joke he walked over to a spot at the back wall, where a fancy brass knocker that had seen some wear stood. It was well worn, and was mainly to add to the show. Lex raised it up and gave two quick knocks into the plate. “Hey Boss,” he called to the unseen cook in the back. “It’s your favorite. Doc Cruz wants his mornin’ cup a Joe.” Within seconds, there was a small dining of a bell, and a warm mug of coffee came sliding out, not spilling a drop. With a bit of showboating, Lex grabbed the top portion and brought it around, placing it just as carefully in front of the man. “There ya go, your daily dose of caffeine. You know, I should start making you bring in a prescription for it, considering how much you work us through.”
He gave off a light chuckle as he heard the bell above the door ding again. He personally didn’t recognize the blonde, but it didn’t change his approach. “Howdy. Welcome to Valhalla. Spend an eternity if you like, but the wenches come extra.” He would say it jokingly of course, sensing the woman’s stress. Her order of to go had him leaning against the back wall. “We don’t really do a “to-go”, otherwise too many people would skip out on their tabs. Be happy to serve ya though.” He raised the knocker again, coming down with another two taps. “One cup of Union Jack’s!” He called. To the back. Like before, a few seconds passed before a nice porcelain cup fit for a royal came sliding out without slipping a drop. Like before, he picked it up and set it in front of the lady, but palmed a spoon out of nowhere to place into her cup with a wink. He always enjoyed the look on newcomer’s faces who had yet to realize the lack of a food menu. While the alcohol was always properly displayed, there seemed to be no actual menu for the food and other drinks, but they would always come out in exactly the manner that would be deemed perfect by the consumer. Such was the Co-owner’s gift, although he didn’t do too well with people. “I hope you find it to your liking,” he would say with a slight air of mischievousness behind his words, a nice laugh as he finished them.
The bell dinged a third time, and Lex found amusement in it. “Seems to be a busy morning! Welcome to Valhalla, what can I do you for?” His voice trailed off a little bit. After a good few years of working this job, he had begun to get feelings when trouble walked in, and all of those alarms blared in his head when this person presented herself. He would still put up the nice façade, but he would still be weary. Watching her make her way up, taking a spot next to the blonde, he returned her smile, leaning back and banging the knocker again. “One pink drink boss.” Similarly to the other two, a tall glass of pink milk came sliding out from the ornate door, Lex picking it up, popping an umbrella in it, and setting it down in front of the newest of the three. Then, he turned back to Cruz, his comment of it being too early for drinking being too good an opportunity for a joke to pass up. “Can’t be too early if you never stopped in the first place, eh?” He would give a good natured laugh before returning to some other minor chores behind the bar, still addressing his new guests with a smile and a good attitude. “So what bring’s the rest of y’all in here? No game I know of starts for another couple of hours at least? Killing time?”
Altair grinned at the barkeep’s greeting and made a show of pulling up the calendar on his phone, scrolling through his daily agenda. He chuckled, a deep, drawn-out purring that rumbled in his throat and curled across his tongue – and answered, ”If you’re late, then I’ll have to charge you extra for overtime. Maybe clear up my tab here?” But his query was followed by a careless half-shrug, because he was the type of man to keep his tabs pristine, the type to tip nicely and be pleasant and cordial because that was what his profession called for.
Still, professionalism could only get him so far; Altair breathed out a sigh of delight as the scent of his freshly-prepared cup filled the air. The warm mug was a pleasant contrast to the coolness of the bar, and he wrapped one hand around it greedily, taking a measured sip.
”Please don’t tease me, Lex,” he said, eyebrows drawn up in feigned consternation, ”I’d never get through the day if I had to rely on a prescribed amount of your coffee. Or your booze…” and it was here he trailed off, thoughtfully, his eyes drifting past Lex to focus on the wall behind him.
Honestly, it wasn’t as if he was in dire demand. He could send off a quick text to his secretary, tell her to reroute any calls to his office – kill some time until the sun began to dip below the horizon and then – and then – and the corners of his lips nudged themselves upwards, the dimple in his right cheek making itself known as he took a longer, deeper draught from his cup. He wouldn’t engage himself fully in the splendor of booze, of course. But there was something to be said for the game of cat-and-mouse, of a few well-placed Equalizers, for the cover of darkness swathing him in silken sin.
And yet he was unable to carry the half-finished fantasy further. It was blown away with the sharp sound of the door’s bell, heralding a new guest. Interesting, he thought, but the sharpness of the caffeine was already filing away at his edges – and he purposely did not turn his head to examine the newcomer, only paused momentarily in raising his mug once more to his lips before completing the journey. The sip he took was small, his eyes narrowed in contemplation as he listened to the footfalls behind him.
A woman came to stand near him, not so close as to be intrude upon his space, but near enough that he was able to examine her from the corner of his eye – it was the tenseness to her, the tautness of her mouth, that caused a small chuckle to escape his mouth. Almost immediately he raised a hand as if to smother the sound, to stuff it back behind his lips, swallow it down – but it was out, and he turned to face her, asking with a physician’s practiced ease, ”Rough day, miss?”
He offered her a kind smile, the warmth burning his amber eyes golden, even as he took in her appearance – business, sharp and cutting and no-nonsense, but it was difficult to truly discern the depths of her when she was so obviously in distress. He sized her up quickly before he turned back to Lex, asking, ”Do you have any Tylenol? Any sort of over-the-counter painkiller, really. I feel a slight headache coming on.”
He flicked his eyes in the direction of this newcomer, because he had yet to ascertain how she would react to a stranger’s meddling – and perhaps it would be easier on her this way, if she was proud in the way he suspected. Altair dipped his head to take another sip from his coffee.
And yet again the bell rang – and his head swiveled, eyes traveling to land on Lex. ”Was today a special event?” he asked quietly, pitching his voice low so that it wouldn’t carry to the ears of their newest visitor. Not that he minded a steady ebb-and-flow of people – but it was the sudden rush of it, this influx of bodies, when he had already decided for himself that he could unwind and relax and not think.
Well, he thought, a wry smile tugging at his lips, I never did have the best of luck. This latest addition to their company announced herself loudly, and Altair’s eyes widened before he flicked them over to the poor woman who had entered only in search of tea. The heavy thump of the door served to only deepen the silence left in her thunderous wake – and then there were the police sirens, and Altair clicked his tongue. Definitely not the best of luck.
He offered Lex a small grin, his fellow associate in this sudden damnation, and breathed out a soft sigh as the newcomer immediately made her presence known at his side, her childish order easing out a slightly wider smile as he watched her from the corner of his eye. ”You sure do know how to make an entrance, huh?”
“Can’t be too early if you never stopped in the first place, eh?”
Lex’s breezy comment earned a bark of laughter from Altair. He pressed his hand to his mouth, not-quite concealing his smile, and said, ”As unflappable as always, Lex.”
And perhaps there was a hidden meaning to his words, veiled behind the joviality, but it was not a meaning he shared with any apart from himself. He drained the last of his coffee and added, ”I suppose you have a point, though.” And his lips curled up once more in a cat’s smile as he added innocently, ”A White Russian, then?”
[attr="class","soleiltext"] Though her original plan was to duck in and out of the bar as fast as possible, Soleil found herself unexpectedly grateful that a wrench had been thrown into her plans. As the bartender walked back to grab her a cup of tea, Soleil sank into the nearest chair with a quiet breath. Even something as simple as placing an order had exasperated the steady pounding in her skull, and she had begun to fear that the headache was more than just the aftermath of stashing away her briefcase. Maybe I’m falling sick, she hypothesized, though the very thought repulsed her. There was always too much to do and not enough time to do it; she couldn’t afford to be ill, not even for a day.
So caught up in her thoughts, Soleil had completely failed to notice the man she had sat down next to. A quiet chuckle, however, alerted her to his presence, and she jerked around to stare at him with wide eyes, but recoiled when the sudden movement caused another twinge of pain to shoot through her head. Though she did her best to mask the pain, not even her impressive willpower could defeat a brewing migraine, and the look she shared with the man in question was irritable as a result. Had she been any less encumbered by her physical state, she would have found the strength to comment on his peculiar reaction, but, as it was, she just waited in silence, lips pursed and eyebrows furrowing, as he asked his question. Despite being only three words long, the phrase was entirely too smooth, too practiced, to be a random inquiry. Was the man just very friendly? Did he start all conversations like this? A cursory glance provided few answers. Clad in a simple button-up and slacks, the man looked ready to assume any available identity, and as mundane as he appeared, he still managed to pique her curiosity.
“You could say that,” she finally answered after a pause, choosing to forgo returning his smile in order to reach up and massage her temple. With her free hand, Soleil accepted the tea cup the bartender offered her and forced a swift, “Thank you,” for the sake of being polite. Pulling the cup close, she allowed the gentle aroma of the loose-leaf tea to encase her. Sweet and flowery, the scent brought her a momentary respite. Earl grey, a classic. Assuming that the bartender would leave to attend to his other customers, she delicately raised the tea cup in the air, taking a sip of the hot drink when she heard the man besides her ask for some painkillers. The suddenness of the request did not slip her notice, and a swift glance to the side confirmed her assumptions. Catching a pair of golden eyes peering back at her, she held the gaze just long enough for the man to realize that she had realized his intentions. But, before she could address the subject, a boisterous voice rang through the room and cut the air like a knife. Abruptly, conversations ground to a halt as customers reached their surroundings in a few seconds of confused silence for an explanation for the outburst. Finding none, they returned to their own business.
Soleil followed suit. Unfortunately, her business was nursing her terrific, skull-pounding headache.
Yet, in spite of her physical handicap, she had not missed the telltale wail of police sirens from outside the building. The sound was something she had grown accustomed to listening for. In her line of profession, she spent most of her time running towards those sirens instead of away from them, and she couldn’t help but wonder what exactly had happened to garner such a response.
“It must have been some crime,” she remarked dryly, tossing the statement up into the air without any intended recipient, though she did cast a wary glance in the direction of the newest arrival to Valhalla. The woman looked to be around her age, but there was a strange energy about her — a bizarre gleam in her eyes — that hinted at a lack of maturity, and the woman’s order further supported that guess. Soleil had seen her kind before. The troublemakers, they were loud, outspoken, and refused to follow any rules except for their own. She had caught quite a few committing petty crimes in her neighborhood, and it was easy enough to send them packing once she pulled out a gun and showed them exactly how good a marksman she was. For the most part, they were no more than youngsters looking for a cheap thrill, for the adrenaline rush that came from toeing the line, and they meant no real harm. And, while Soleil assumed that this woman belonged in that general category, she had the inkling that this woman was of a different strain.
Looking away swiftly so as to not alert the woman to her inspection, Soleil tuned into the man’s conversation with the bartender instead. Barely two words in, and she was already surprised. She would have never pegged the man besides her as anything close to an alcoholic, yet, there he was, ordering a drink even as the sun was still high in the sky. His debonair appearance and suave mannerisms hadn’t so much as hinted at such a habit; if anything, she would have assumed his vice was smoking or gambling. But, she didn’t have time to mull over the new discovery, as the bartender was suddenly addressing her and the other woman. His interest was genuine, enough so that Soleil didn’t have the heart to admit that she was only here because her boss had insisted. So she just shrugged and said, “I was looking for a place to relax, and I stumbled upon your bar. It looked nice enough from the outside, and I have to admit your tea does not disappoint either.”
Though not the complete truth, her statement was not a lie either, and Soleil figured that everyone would be satisfied with it. Sitting up, she waited expectantly for the other woman to answer, interested in her story as well, if only because of the fanfare that had accompanied her arrival.
Lex smiled and nodded at the Doc’s suggestion, reaching for his keys and unlocking a small drawer behind the counter, producing from its contents a small bottle of asprin. Giving it a small shake, revealing the rattle that some pills remained, he opened it up and produced a few from the bottle. Placing them within shot glasses, he filled a few additional tall glasses with water, and gave both to the official looking woman and the doctor. “Here you go,” he said, placing them down in front of her, the sounds of the pink haired girl’s content slurping filling his ears. “Should help with that headache of yours.”
He turned his attention back to the doctor, chuckling at his under-the-breath comment. “Not really,” he revealed. “Karaoke night isn’t until Sunday.” He wiped down a few glasses, replacing the spots where the old ones had sat, keeping the rows of glass lined up as well as he could.
Ears perking up at the comment from the woman, he gave a soft, happy chuckle, a smile making its way across his face again. “I’m glad to hear that ma’am, our service is one of our few redeeming factors.” He leaned back towards the wall, giving a few knocks with his knuckles before calling towards the back. “Hey boss, you hear that? Someone likes your tea!” He gave a small chuckle before noticing the door swinging open, a small plate of a few fresh and warm morning pastries came sliding out, Lex realizing it as the silent cook’s way of expressing gratitude. With a warm smile, he picked it up and placed it in front of the lady. With a wink he translated for her. “He says thank you.”
His attention was called once more by the doctor, acknowledging his own joke, and asking for a white Russian. With a light chuckle, he picked up and spun a smaller glass on his finger. “You got it boss,” he said, placing the glass in front of him with a clack. He spun into his hand the bottle of vodka. Popping out the cork, he picked back up the glass, holding it behind his back, and pouring a long stream of vodka for a second into the glass, as he finishing, setting it down, recorking the bottle and tossed it up over his shoulder from behind him and catching it in his opposite hand, placing the bottle back on the shelf, and flipping out a new one of coffee liquor.
“Sure you don’t want a Black Mexican?” he would joke, popping open this bottle as well. Picking up the other glass, he tossed a few shots of the liquor up into the air, catching them into the glass about him, setting back down both, and picked up a bottle of cream from the fridge behind him, pouring the appropriate amount of its contents into the glass to top it off.
“Here you go, Doc,” he said, sliding the glass in front of him. Finishing putting everything back up, he would wipe his hands off and make his way over to the dart board opposite the bar, pulling off the darts and making his way back over near a support beam closer to the bar. Taking aim and tossing a dart, making it within the outer ring, he would address his patrons. “Yeah, we got karaoke on Sundays. Pool tables are open, just ask for the supplies, gotta keep them locked up for obvious reasons. Dart boards are free. Jukebox tokens are a quarter each and while we tend to keep jazz, swing and such, sometimes I like to throw some other albums in there so keep your eyes open. Any comments, questions or concerns, just let me know. Other than that, don’t fight and we’ll all get along fine.”
The woman beside him was clearly in distress, and he did not take it to heart when she was slow to answer his question – not with a smile but a terse downward lilt to her lips, as if the very formation of the words themselves pained her. He was pleased to see her served so quickly, further pleased when Lex was so quick to pick up on his words. That the woman beside him had realized his intentions did little to erase the smile from his mouth.
He picked up the shot glass that contained the pills of aspirin, giving them a small shake before realizing his potential mistake, tossing another glance at the woman to see her reaction. “Cheers,” he said, raising the glass up in the air before tossing them down his throat, swallowing first one and then the other in short order.
Dry-swallowing was a skill that came easily to him, had always been something that he enjoyed as a small trick because he’d found so many had difficulty swallowing even the smallest of pills. Wearing a self-satisfied smile, he chased the pills down with a sip of the water that had accompanied the medicine, breathing out a happy sigh as it cleared his mouth of any remaining coffee. “Just what the doctor ordered,” he quipped, aiming a wink at Lex before another chuckle escaped him.
He was pleased to see their latest acquaintance enthralled in her strawberry milk – there was something to be said about her, some spider sense that ghosted the threat of danger down his spine. As far as Altair was concerned, the quieter she was the happier he would be. He had almost considered, upon her explosive introduction, escaping with an S.O.S. text message shot to Lee. Lee was the sort of person you needed in bar fights, and it was the scent of blood that seemed to wrap around her bubblegum-pink hair that had him even imagining a brawl breaking out in a place like Valhalla. He knew Lex wasn’t the type to stand for that sort of thing, but when a little girl had someone like himself on edge, well…
He cut off that line of thought before it reached its end, instead dropping his chin down onto the knuckles of a loosely-curled fist, his other hand’s digits tracing abstract patterns on the now-empty shot glass. “Even if it was a crime, I can promise you it’s safe in here,” he told the woman; he wasn’t attempting to patronize her – it was easy to see she was the type to handle herself, but he did want to subtly hint that Lex wasn’t the type to let bloodshed enter his establishment.
The stains are always hard to remove.
The woman’s next words made Altair’s smile spread wider, more genuine, less practiced. He was pleased to see one of his favorite hangouts complimented, and the relaxed atmosphere had him saying in mock-chagrin, “What’s this? Why haven’t I ever gotten a plate of cookies!?”
In truth, he wasn’t that hungry, though the sight of fresh food had him considering ordering a plate of his own – after all, booze never went down well on an empty stomach, and the only thing in his was a cup of coffee.
“If I told you you’re beautiful, would you consider sharing with a poor scoundrel like me?” His words to the woman beside him were light, gently teasing without any real intent behind them. It was too early to be picking up new conquests, but she was intriguing, her personality a puzzle he was interested in solving.
At Lex’s Black Mexican comment, Altair snorted. “Maybe if you want me flat on my back before noon. Can’t promise you Lee would be pleased with dragging my drunk, sorry ass out of here.”
Still, he took his drink gratefully, showing no hesitation in immediately taking a sip, his nose wrinkling slightly. “Gotta love making poor life choices as an adult,” he said. For a few minutes of silence he was happy to just nurse the drink, his eyes flicking between the various patrons of the bar until he finally resettled his gaze on the woman beside him.
He waited for Lex to finish laying down the rules of the bar before he set his drink down and extended his hand out toward her. “You’ve pretty much met Lex at this point, but my name’s Altair Cruz. Lex calls me ‘Doc’ because that’s what I am.” He finished his little speech with another wink, revealing the card he’d concealed in the hand he offered her. His name was printed on it, along with his credentials and his contact information.
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