[Jarod Nightingale] There was a thunderstorm outside, which would have been less bothersome (he liked the rain, and he liked the smell of ozone that permeated the air when electric current danced in the clouds) if he wasn't wearing a nearly $2,000 Prada business suit. The fact that Jarod Nightingale found himself inside the Hung Drawn and Quartered was more due to cause and effect than it was to deliberate action, but since he'd decided to find shelter, it may as well be in a place where he could get a decent drink.
The door opened, and he backed in through the door, closing an expensive-looking black umbrella and shaking off some of the excess water before he officially made his way inside. He'd mostly managed to escape getting wet. A few droplets had beaded on the cuffs of his suit-jacket, and he wiped them away absently. The man did not immediately look in the direction of the booth, though the resonance there was relatively impossible not to notice. Instead there was a deliberate note to the way he walked toward the bar, leaned against it, signaled the bartender, ordered a scotch... and then turned around to contemplate his fellow Awakened beings. (All things in their proper order.) There'd been drinking, and a paper airplane of some kind.
He fixed the group with shaded, dark blue eyes, and smirked.
[K. R. J.] Kage listens (studious) to Atlas when he speaks. Because he speaks in code. Thomas, too. He also speaks in code, or at least, in a thick enough accent that Kage has asked him a time or two what a word meant (germans [lemon]). Kage does bring her cider over, and Kage also sits next to Ashley; nudges her over, over, over if it becomes necessary, perhaps a moment before it becomes necessary [sometimes she feels as if she has an invisible companion, who tries to take her seats]. "It has been a while," she tells Atlas, after he has launched his own paper airplane; something that's a little more Etherite than what she managed. And lo, there's that not quite a smirk again, quirking up into a smile, easy, ardency tucked away, cool.
And also, this: "Hey, Tom Cat. Morgan; you feel -- different. More noticing of things. More wheat from chaff. How are you? Drinking night, eh? What's the game?"
[Morgan Lake] It's lucky, really, that Atlas gave his warning - Morgan's attempt at dodging is a miserable failure, but instead of hitting her in the forehead, the projectile bounces harmlessly off her hands. Then Kage is talking to her, asking about a game, and she's picking up the plane to offer back to Atlas. She is, of course, the youngest here, though not by as much as she usually is.
"I'm not drinking - I just need dinner. I'm starving, and it's too late to cook anything I have the stuff for."
[Atlas Mason] "That my nominally associative homo sapien sapien is a relative, one to one thousandth reconstruction of the neo-byzantian aeronautical outer etheric construct of Count Tazla of the conglomerative factional alliance designated the Royal Ethernautical Society." Atlas says as he steps up to the bench and slips in beside Morgan, an eye over to Thomas before he nods to Morgan.
"My direct appreciative renumerations for the recollection and deposit of the construct into my personages primary manipulative extremity digit's Morgan, this particular representation is of relative quality, and precentages recommend preservation for this juncture."
He then turns and smiles to the rest and seems somewhat anticipatory as he rubs his hands together having carefully set down the paper plane on a dry part of the table. "I have always preferred the dissection of individualized personality quandaries and internalized characteristics via generalized inquiry, or perhaps the utilization of metallic alloy monetary discs projected at various velocities in an attempt to deposit said alloy into the alcoholic liquid concoction of an opposing individual." He seems to suggest these ideas with vigor, excited as he calls for beer.
[Ashley McGowen] Ashley does scoot in to make room for Kage, and if the Orphan pushes her in a little ahead of when most people normally would, Ashley doesn't think much of it. She can't really tell how far away Kage is, after all, and she knows about the other woman's invisible friend. She's seen the invisible friend, starry-eyed, in the reflection of a truck's window.
"No game's been established yet. We were just talking, and then the rest of you showed up," Ashley offers.
A nudge of Will catches her attention then, and her eyes track up to Jarod, standing there with his glass of scotch. Ashley catches his eyes, but seems lost for a moment as to whether to invite him over: drinking games, after all, do not strike her as Jarod's particular cup of tea. Still, she likes the Verbena after a fashion, so he too is wordlessly beckoned over.
A glance toward Atlas once, and the Hermetic doesn't seem to have any difficulty parsing his speech. She's good with Words. "I don't like drinking games that involve individualized personality quandaries," she says. "Too public."
[Jarod Nightingale] [Int+Linguistics (dude, I'm actually making a linguistics roll, this never happens) - can I decipher Atlas-speak tonight?]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 4, 4, 5, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Jarod Nightingale] [What about Thomas-speak?]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 4, 6, 6, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Thomas Taylor] For those close to the cockney he bore some marks, the faded yellow of a black eye on his left hand side, the half healed wound of a bust lip gracing his kisser. Hardly the wars and hardly that fresh, well the bust lip might be. He does his best to blow the smoke upwards but as more people crowd around it became harder to get the smoke up, up and away. He takes a massive drag, just before he does in that split second he makes that decision the hunger spikes and then the cherry gets consumed at an alarming rate as with one massive puff he blows the smoke upwards and puts out the cigarette with a twist.
“Drinkin’ games, sweet…” Of course Kage calls him Tom cat, he grins at the name absorbing it, consuming it. Kage: “So ‘ow you been Grimm, an not ‘appy with Lewis, am thinkin’ yer more Brother Grimm.” A cheeky wink to Kage there night of adventure still fresh in his mind as his eyes go over all gathered. All: “Match box game, flick it over yer shot, lands long side you pass a finger on, lands short side you pass three fingers on, lands flat you drink a finger…lands in yer drink or anyone elses down the bloody thin’ an yer round.” He grins, eyes half close smirking almost he was having so much fun right now and it showed. “We will need more than shots for this pet, this gary needs bottles, we need sum robin sippin’ whiskey an e’nuff for fingers.” He glances to Atlas and listens to him, he picked up Morgan and digits. But he had no idea…he glances around before directing. Atlas: “So yer up for getting’ wasted?” Thomas apparently had no prejudice for who got drunk with him. Then Ashley speaks and Thomas looks between Atlas and Ashley “Is the doc suggestin’ we do truth or dare?”
Thomas looks to Morgan, that fun still there but an attempt to contain it, to not seem as drunk as he was. Morgan “Le Fay, cum on you can ‘ave a cheeky pint or two, yer gonna ‘ave to at yer swanky college…is it pledges? I get confused…” He taps the table, Thomas too was a little drunk already (His football team won though, have you not heard?) “But am sure they’ll sneak in a drop or two, so my round pet…” He smiles to her, eyebrows raise almost begging…he does look rather cute if not awfully rough around the edges.
[Jarod Nightingale] Some of these faces were new (unknown.) One he had met only once, and briefly at that. One he hadn't seen in over six months. And the last one was Ashley. The Hermetic won something a little closer to a smile when Jarod's gaze settled on her. There was a gleam of perfect-white teeth, and that smile... it was something just a little predatory, but he couldn't entirely help that. (My, what big teeth you have.)
She'd signaled him over, and of course he took his sweet time in getting there, but eventually Jarod's figure did indeed approach the booth. He slid in gracefully next to Kage, took a drink, and set his glass on the table. The fire-haired orphan got a brief nod - something approaching friendly, though in a muted kind of way. The other red-head, of course... she got a lofted brow and a more knowing smirk. "Hey Enid." And there was an element of long-time-no-see to his tone, but it was more teasing than warm.
Then, to Ashley: "Are we getting up to no good, tonight?"
[K. R. J.] "Brothers Grimm, hm?" A beat. "I am renowned for my monastic lifestyle, far and wide," and it's somewhat bland, somewhat deadpan. Not quite, but almost. The lopsided almost smile is still in play; she sips her cider (demure, delicate), and adds, "I like their version of Little Red Riding Hood."
The Orphan raises both of her eyebrows at Atlas's suggestion, and her expression is musing; museful. "I believe the doctor did, indeed, suggest truth or dare; I haven't played that for quite a time." She sounds neutral about playing it now, if the truth were to be told, sans game.
Jarod takes a seat. And - Jarod. Kage has only physically met the man once. Kage has heard his voice twice. Kage has heard his name -- well; not all that often. But there was a time when Jarod was mentioned to her, fairly frequently; that time belongs to snows, and burning men, and a long time ago. Last year. Her gaze flicks over his shoulder, then upwards, and her smile hooks even more crooked, a briefly amused thing.
Jarod gets a courteous nod. And then a: "Nice to see you again, Jarod, and right. I forgot you knew Morgan; do you know everybody else here? Do we all know each other?" It doesn't really cover up the nameslip, but it does blithely pretend it never happened.
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 6, 7, 8, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)
[Morgan Lake] "Hey, Jarod."
There's similar long-time-no-see (and none of the animosity one might expect, given her general attitude towards the Verbena in the past) in Morgan's voice when she surfaces from the call she took while people were drinking, during which she sounds almost like a normal college student - almost like the popular, pretty girl she once was, albeit rather better read than she was before. (Not, mind, that there was ever a time that Morgan - Enid - wasn't better read than most of her peers, election to various courts and student councils aside.) It takes a moment --
Enid.
-- for it to register, and when it does, she looks rather like she's been slapped. Her face goes momentarily red, and then rather white; under the table, with little thought, the hand that just put her phone back in her pocket goes to Thomas'. It's not a particularly romantic gesture that (so few of hers are, really), but a rather utilitarian and self-serving one, all told.
".....Morgan. Not. Um. Not Enid."
And isn't this familiar? The teenaged Hermetic, flustered before the supermodel. But for different reasons this time, and not antagonistic, so there's that.
[Atlas Mason] Atlas had just received his beer and was eyeing the concoction quite intently when the man who was known to some but obviously not all approached from the bar. He had even taken out a hand held laser, something obviously far more prodigious then his previous versions, this one was large scale, with a several centimeter lense which produced a brilliant white laser beam as he flicked it on and shown it into the liquid at varying locations.
"Hmmmm most perturbatory, this particular sample of alcoholic, barley based beverage contains an excess of particulate ranging in the five hundred parts per million. Possible materiel including dermal layerings, bodily excretions and....curious, mashed tomato spiced paste."
He then dips his finger into the liquid and samples it briefly before shrugging. "Quality is approximately nominal given external factors." He seems entirely in his own world before Jarod makes the scene with calling Morgan Enid rather her usual moniker and the man of science looks up at that predatory man and gives him an amiable smile.
"Ah societal renumerative and conciliatory reprimand's sir. My parentalogically assigned and hereditary identify is Atlas Mason." He says reaching out the shake the man's hand as he looks to Morgan.
"Is your personage nominal Morgan? Your facially aligned dermal layers have momentarily flushed with five ounces of additional red blood cells."
[Ashley McGowen] "...He did suggest truth or dare. Which is fine, I guess," Ashley says after a moment. Kage seems neutral about the topic; Ashley refuses to shy away from anything Kage will do. Point of pride, see.
Jarod's smile gets one in return, bright and genuine, when he actually accepts the invitation (she'd assumed he wouldn't, would flick his proverbial tail and pad away. People do surprise you.)
"Tom decided I'm drinking," Ashley says, with a gesture toward the Hollow One seated across from her at the table. "But so far he's done less getting me drinks and more telling people that he's going to get me drunk." It's said like a dare, in its way, with a smirk directed toward the young man. It falters a moment as Atlas begins to describe the particles he's found in his drink. "Atlas, don't mention the particulate content again." Though she's reluctant to touch her beer until Atlas' breakdown fades from memory, and just glances once toward Thomas. She hasn't forgotten, and she's perhaps waiting for him to initiate; getting smashed was his idea, after all.
A look about, at Kage's question. "I know everyone." Of course she does. She admits people to the House of Ill Portents. And should anyone look unfamiliar, she will take it upon herself to point at the others and offer names.
[Thomas Taylor] ((All will be explained, Cha & Perf))
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 6, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Thomas Taylor] Thomas’ wandering eyes go over to Jarod, a small raise to his brow as he takes in the mans composer. Very handsome, clothes that could pay Thomas rent for 6 months, seething with grace and cat got milk smile. Then he speaks, something in there Thomas picked up on but did not say, did not even glance at it just remained focused. Thomas hated it, why the simple reason every man hates it. Someone better looking, richer and more graceful walks in and makes you take a look at yourself, that and he seemed to have more than a passing knowledge of people in the booth. He glances to Atlas to see if he was getting it too then practically rolls his eyes, why was he going to the Doctor for support. No doubt his ego does not elaborate upon a select venture that would result in his personage taking offence or shame and that by the factor of ten combined with the handsome man…bollocks!. Then Morgans hand takes his under the table and he looks to the wood a moment. He knew why of course, it was the reason he did not glance.
Then the name is mentioned Jarod. He remembers the park, the conversation between Ashley and Morgan and relaxes somewhat that drunken paranoia fading “Oh the tree huggin’ puff!” He calls out as if it just entered his brain and went straight to his mouth. Then he stops, takes a moment to repeat his words then looks to Jarod “Sorry model, I meant to say model…” He looks around everyone “’onest.” …he chooses to add nothing to the Enid debate, keep it simple, keep it quiet. He does glance at Atlas though, a raised brow, trust the doc to point out a blush. He looks back to Jarod “Call me Tom, or Tommy mate, how’d you do.”
Then his gaze goes to Ashley, she dares him his jaw tightens “I cannot get out rite now pet, there three lil’ ducks in a row…” He puts two fingers in his mouth and wolf whistles. The whistle is a thing of beauty, brought about by attracting your friends at a stadium full of people it is both loud, high and carries well. People at the bar look over, the bartender himself stops and there’s a moment silence as Thomas puts up his hand, voice louder to carry to the bar. “SORRY PET, TIGHT SQUEEZE, STUCK IN THE CRACKS, TWO BOTTLES OF WHISKEY AN SIX SHOT GLASSES, I’LL DO YOU ROBIN ON THE TIP I SWEAR DOWN!”.” He gives her the thumbs up, people look around then carry on there way, some laughing, other shaking there head. Thomas looks back to Ashley “He who dares wins Ash!”
[Ashley McGowen] [WP to not cringe in horror. Owwwww.]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 5, 6, 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Jarod Nightingale] Kage might note these things about him - he had good posture without appearing rigid, and he smelled good. He smelled like jasmine and just a hint of something more earthy (sandalwood?).
"Partially," he responded to her question without acknowledging (yet) the apparent name-change of a certain young Hermetic. Looking across the table, he let his eyes settle on first Atlas and then Thomas before adding, "I'm unfamiliar with the male side of the equation." (And this might have been an ever-so-slight mimicry of Atlas' speech patterns, but if so, he didn't make it obvious.) Atlas introduced himself, and Jarod gave a polite nod and reached out to take the offered hand briefly. "Jarod Nightingale."
Thomas' remarks elicited a faint chuckle. "I see my reputation has preceded me." (And let's face it, he'd been called much worse.)
But then... Enid was flustered. Enid... was no longer Enid, but Morgan. To his credit, he did make due note of this, with a slightly curious cant of his head as he watched her. And he didn't make a snide comment or question her about the change. He just mulled it over, then shrugged lightly. As if this wasn't really here or there to him, in any case.
Back to the topics at hand.
"Truth or Dare? Are we regressing to to the age of fourteen, then?" His tone was dry, and a little sarcastic, but more amused than judgmental. "I think I might actually stick around and watch that."
Thomas wolf-whistled, and shouted across the bar. Jarod closed his eyes briefly (as if somehow that could block out the sound), and Kage might feel a slight tensing of muscles as he repressed a cringe. When his eyes opened again, he took a long drink of his scotch.
[Morgan Lake] "Still not drinking," she says with a smirk, after a squeeze of Thomas' hand in return; she doesn't cling, has been as independent as she can possibly manage . . . well, as long as anyone here's known her, anyway. Self-sufficiency is a thing, to her, as is that distance that she usually keeps (but not so much here, where she's sandwiched between a father figure and a friend, and not attempting to keep either at arm's length). "So am I exempt from these reindeer games? Also, if we're yelling across the pub, I don't think my voice will carry that far."
Here, there's a shrug, a bit wry (and no, it's not lost on her, how Jarod nearly winced at Thomas' yell) as she glances around at the assembled.
"Will someone order me a turkey club and some waffle fries? I'd appreciate it." Perhaps she's grown up a bit, this Morgan-not-Enid. Or perhaps Jarod isn't baiting her, however inadvertent such things may have been. She is, in this moment, remarkably even tempered - and polite. Almost pleasant, even.
[Atlas Mason] Atlas had gone to stand, shaking the man's hand before letting it go. He had intended to simply sit himself back down into his seat and be comfortable and enjoy his drink, but his attempt to do so is allayed by something rather unexpected. There is a dull thump, and Atlas' eyes widen in surprise as he goes down rather hard, grunting.
"What roguish activity is necessary to be acted upon during my decent to the planar arrestment locality of this materiel?" He asks about righting himself with a chuckle. "Rougish behaviour, roguish aeronautical pulp, roguish whistling, if we degenerate any further along this particular vein of activity. We may yet engage in a roguish transference of force assisted armature directive concussive strikes with the general populace of this structure."
[K. R. J.] [Uh. Don't look guilty/surprised that the dude actually crumpled. >.>]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 6, 6, 7, 8 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[K. R. J.] [Manip + Subt, natch.]
[Ashley McGowen] The whistle is a thing of beauty, but not to the Hermetic's ears. It's all Ashley can do to keep herself from cringing. As it is, there's a slight widening of her eyes, a blue and white swell that passes just as quickly. When the bottles are set down on the table in front of them, she reaches over to open one of the bottle.
The elder Hermetic begins to fill each of the shotglasses, and even though her cheeks are a bit flushed, she manages to do it without spilling any of it. Done this before enough times, apparently. "I just came here to drink, so I don't really care what we do," she says. "Bar fights included. Wouldn't be the first time." Pointedly ignores the tension across the table, how Thomas bristles at Jarod, how Morgan blushes. Or maybe she just misses it entirely.
At which point she downs one of the shots and nudges the other toward Thomas. A glance toward Morgan, as though she's thinking about foisting one on her apprentice too, but she refrains. She judiciously leaves the other three to their own devices, as far as taking one goes.
There's a quick pause, a grimace as she raises her hand to her chest and rubs for a few seconds as the shot goes down. "Tom, I know we had things to talk about, but it's going to have to wait until later, I think."
[Thomas Taylor] He tilts his head to Morgan. There’s a moment where you think he might take the higher ground with her, a small ray of light that might draw him into the none drinking side. It is quickly squashed, buried and given the fastest funeral any emotion baggage has been given ever. “Thanks pet yer adorable.” He winks to the barmaid and makes a clicking sound “Can I also get a turkey club wat ever that is an sum waffles…no wait fires, no waffle fires…” He nods a touch drunk, as the whiskey is left and he starts counting…”Okay, I sud ‘ave this, I might need a loaner, an sumones round next I swear to god.” He leaves the notes on the table, perhaps $100 dollars if that. He grins to Atlas “That was all custy, but I ‘eard you on that one doc, if they got an issue I got the soddin’ tissue! we go any further down this degenerate we’ll all be outside naked drinkin’ sum weird punch.” He looks over to Ashley “Cud ‘appen you know, ‘ave ‘eard worse.” He looks to Jarod, he was not sure what to make of the man, being drunk did not help either.
He catches the shot and looks at Ashley as with a dare in his eye and a straight jaw he downs the whiskey a small grimace to it. “Works for me Ash, no one likes to talk shop wen drinkin’, never shit were you eat…I sud ‘ave said never mix business with pleasure there, oh fuck ‘ow cares.” He picks up the bottle with a chuckle and pours himself and Ashley another one.
[Jarod Nightingale] Thomas didn't quite know what to make of Jarod. Men like him usually didn't, and Jarod himself seldom did much to smooth things along. It was possible that he liked keeping people slightly off-balance. Or maybe he just didn't much thought into it one way or another.
For his part, he seemed relaxed but aloof. He was always aloof. He was an observer, here. Like a man visiting a zoo. He watched the antics, and found some quiet amusement (loud noises aside.) Thomas dropped a hundred dollar bill on the table, and from what Jarod could tell from appearances (though these things were not always accurate, of course), that was probably a significant sum for the chav.
He finished off the last of his drink and extricated himself from the booth. After some consideration, he pulled out a bill and dropped it on the table (another hundred.) "Sorry I can't stay. Next round's on me, though." And with a charming, perfectly Cheshire-cat smile, he grabbed his umbrella and left to venture back out into the night.
