Apr 21 00:06:26 107 PA - Confrontation at the Alibi
From Chronicles
The club is a liberal mix of modern and classic styles with a dark, warm lean to the hardwood and metal decor, dressed up with velvet and leather. Set up about the stage with attached DJ station and dance floor at the center, the entrance is set to one end of this, the bar to the other. The entrance itself is tightly controlled. There are always two well dressed people at the front, a bouncer to check each person coming in and another watching the drum and closet lockers that hold all patron weapons.
A broad , semi circular stage extends from the center of the widest wall, rising two feet, with lights rimming the edge and hidden in scaffolds high above. A rich red velvet curtain lies ready to sweep about and veil the stage itself from view. The DJ booth is set up right next to the stage, set into the same wall. With a thick window and biometric locks on the two side doors, one to the stage and the other to a set of stairs down, the equipment within is secure. Within a C shaped desk and racks hold the sound equipment, all linked into a central computer. All done up in sleek, dark cases, mixing well with the warm, wood paneling of the booth's exterior.
A dance floor is central to the club, laid out in a broad circle before the stage. Laid out in a semi circle opposite the stage side of the dance floor are a series of round tables, with smaller two person sized ones at the edge, with larger four person tables in the next row and a few grand six to eight person tables on the outer edge. All staggered to make for the best view for all to the dance floor and stage. To one side of this central focus is the bar, a broad affair taking up much of the shorter wall in width. The bar itself is a mix of modern and classic, with the simple, elegant hardwood design of the bar itself mixing with the display of alcohol behind it, opaque plastic shelves lit from within to highlight the wide selection of common and uncommon liquors for sale. The barstools themselves, lined up in a neat row, mix dark metallic stems with comfy red leather seats.
The current game time is: Fri Apr 21 00:06:26 107 PA.
Midnight at the Oasis? Not quite but the club is packed to capacity, and the dance floor is a hot and busy place. In the middle of it all, heart, mind and body thrown into the dance, is Maya, her arms above her head as she is jumping around. No dancing pattern, just enthusiasm and bounce. A lot of bounce.
Liam is there mixed amongst the patrons of the club. Dressed in his crimson and black attire, the surcoat is left undone to reveal his undershirt as he dances to the music... HIs body writhing and moving in time to the beat and attracting the occassional stare. His crimson ball cap atop of his head pulled down snuggly to remain upon his head as he moves to the music.
Maya turns, both feet together, a bounce that takes out someone's toes and then her gaze lands on Liam and she uses elbows to wind her way towards the man, but the shout of his name, acquired on the street, is not subtle, and she finally ends up in front of him. Her grin is broad, the dancing laughter in her eyes is bright and she reaches up to steal the cap as she greetings him. "Hey!"
Liam laughs softly as he turns about and is face to face with the woman before, a smirk forming upon his lips as she steals his hat , "Well Hello stranger." HIs tone polite and jovial, obviouse enough he enjoys dancing it would seem, nodding towards Maya, he says, "How are you?"
The hat gets perched on the back of her head, the bunches either side perhaps not entirely working. She can dance, it seems, when she wants to, and she catches the beat. "I'm good! Time off and work is great, ... you?" Her tone is friendly, hyper, possibly slightly over hyper.
Liam chuckles and shrugs as he dances with her, his hand moving to her hip if she will let it so that he can move his body in time with her own.. Knees and legs tucking and weaving as his hips work in concerto, "Same stuff different day.. I'm a refurbisher of relics and Authenticatorm, work's slow."
"Oh that sounds fascinating, though. I mean, you get to research and find out things and... " Her cheerful babble is utterly friendly, her broad grin happy. Maya's acceptance of casual touch is easy, and she moves her hips with a well practiced ease, keeping time nicely. More graceful, certainly, than the one before. "I love following the trail of clues when you are looking into something, you know?"
Liam nods his head abit and smiles, "Truely so.. I pride myself on my work.." He's not overly graceful, but he can dance, which is alot more than most men can claim... His other hand lazily at his sides as he moves and rolls with the other young woman's movements, "So is this a norm, or am I just special?"
"This? Work?" Maya seems genuinely oblivious to the meaning of the question. "No, I think most people like their work, don't you? I do. Some bits of it are very odd but it is necessary to get to the goal." A passing danger reaches out, tapping her on the shoulder, and Maya is gone from under Liam's hand, offering an enthused hug to the person, arms around the neck, and then the guy moves on, and she turns back, the grin undimmed. "Sorry, a friend..." She waves, dismissing the man, returning her attention to Liam.
Liam chuckles softly as he seems to understand, pilfering his hat back as he begins to dance with her anew, "Nothing to be sorry for, that answers my question." He seems to actually loosen up abit as he realizes she's not coming onto him and is being friendly.. His movements becoming abit more loose, finding the beat to the music easily enough.
She reaches for the hat, missing the movement, and objects with a simple, "Hey!" But Maya doesn't seem overly bothered, her grin irrepressible. "What answers it?" There is a hint of bemusement but she isn't particularly concerned, easily matching the beat, slowing as the track comes to an end and then she turns, holding out a hand to him, a nonverbal offer to follow her through the crowd towards the bar. Her movements are dotted with affection touches of people and greetings, all of which she either meets with enthusiasm or initiates.
Liam takes her hand as it is offered and just smiles, shrugging his shoulders, "That you are exceptionally good natured.. That's all." Slipping with her through the bar he waits for her to take a seat before moving to take one himself, if she doesn't he opts to stand. As they draw up his hands rest lightly upon her hips as he looks over her at the bartender, beign 6'4 has advantages.
"I think that is the compliment." Maya hops up onto the stool with ease, wiggling fingers towards the bartender with a yelled request for her usual and a beer. The light touch on her hips gets him a look of thought, her eyes narrowing. "Oh right." The penny has dropped and there is a moment where offense could be taken but she laughs, her eyes dancing with amusement. "Just friendly." The bartender arrives with a beer bottle and then a glass brimming with purple liquid and ice. With a straw and a small paper umbrella. They are at the bar, Maya sitting on a stool, Liam's hands on her hips. A Friday night, and midnight with a crowd that is filling the club to busting.
Liam looks down at the two drinks and says, "Should I even ask what that is?" Nodding towards the purple drink as he waist for a response from Maya. He seems to be quite at ease as he looks towards the bartender, "Cranberry Juice on ice please.." Yup he must be on his period... Or just cares about his physical appearance..
"It is a Maya's drink." Maya's reply is light hearted, her grin brightening. "I just drink this. I got the beer for you but..." She picks it up, turning on her stool to leans back, offering the bottle to a stranger with a grin. He takes it, bemused, and she just turns to Liam, her eyes dancing. "Cranberry juice, huh?" She pays for the drinks, tossing a cred-chip across the bar.
Liam nods his head abit and looks towards Maya, "If you'd be obliging.. I didnt realize the beer was for me, didn't mean to come off rude." Nodding towards the juice he explains, "I don't partake in the fermentaton of wheat, and the like very often.. WIne is good though, and hard alcohol.. But I've already had my limit for the last 72 hours.. I'd become intoxicated if I drank more." He's obviously broke down his drinking limit to abit of a science.
With the night bringing a packed crowd to the Alibi and the music sending it bumping and twirling around the room, libations flowing liberally. Joachim slowly makes his way through the door, a self-satisfied if subdued smile fixed under warm brown tired eyes. Dressed more professionally than for a club, he skims the majority of the crowd over to the bar. Patiently waiting for a Joachim-sized-spot to open up, eventually he slides in, putting in a rather truncated order.
Maya's eyes widen slightly and she nods slowly at the words. "I don't drink at all." She confides frankly. "This is juice and stuff, tastes lovely, and they add a dash of something for a buzz." Her grin returns, her eyes dancing as she turns to consider the crowd. The cheerful expression changes, softens to something else. "Uh, yes... nothing in it." She comments softer, automatically, before she lifts a hand, "Joa! Joachim, over here!" And she is blushing. Definitely blushing.
The door opens again, letting in a gust of cold air and a man in a coat. He steps up to the security and is patted down, opening the coat to reveal that he isn't carrying any weapons. Past the security, he surveys the dance floor and the club, looking for anyone of interest before making his way to the bar. His order is met with a nod and he receives a plastic glass, half ice, half rye. Turning, he steps away from the bar, looking out over the crowd for familiar faces.
Liam picks up his drink and sips from the dark rosey liquid, turning towards the man Maya waves towards, Liam follows her gaze.. Sipping quietly he too offers a light wave, seeming quite nonchalant as he waits for Maya's attention to return before saying, "Its hard to find the time in busy schedules to exercise if one does drink and lacks an artifical metabolism."
Joachim's eyebrows lift into an expression that just might indicate surprise, his eyes turning in Maya's general direction. His order is finally met - a full bottle of single-cask whiskey with a single glass hanging precariously from its top - and he collects it in exchange for a credit-chit, hesitantly moving to join Maya. "Hello," he manages warmly, the bottle set down gingerly.
Maya agrees with Liam's statement, almost absently as Joachim arrives, the confident bubbly women suddenly a whole lot more uncertain. "Hey Joachim." Her grin is a smile, and she offers it to Joachim, her fingers playing with the umbrella. "Uh, how're you?" She is awkward suddenly, adding, "I've been fine, working really hard. This is Liam, he plays the violin and he is a scholar. He does a lot of research and..." She bites the babble back, giving the man a slightly frustrated look. "Sorry."
The man in the coat wanders through the crowd, making his way to the wall, beneath a speaker. There, he balances his glass on a rail along the wall and continues to search the room for a point of familiarity. Seeing none, he pulls a pouch of tobacco and a rolling paper from his pocket and begins to roll a cigarette. That done, he leans back against the wall, taking a sip of his drink before putting the unlit cigarette in his mouth.
Liam just looks confused by the events unfolding and figures something is amiss as he just rubs the back of his head quietly as Maya goes from friendly and bubbly to this new persona change. For his part he stays silent as he wonders if he's gotten himself in some sort of trouble.
Joachim's head bobs up and down, unphased by the nervous babble coming from Maya, "Nothin' t'be sorry about," he says brightly, hand extending to Liam. "Nice t'meet you. If y'don't mind th'question, What d'you study?" His eyes sparkle as he asks, curious, his hands busying themselves almost without thought in the uncorking and pouring of the whiskey, one hand sliding into a pocket as its pair lifts the amber glass, giving it a slight swirl.
Maya turns, lifting her drink and burying her face in the glass, ignoring the straw and the umbrella. There is a brief expression of mortification crossing her face before she lowers the glass, and firmly puts the grin back on her face. She doesn't add to the talk though, watching them. Well, mostly Joachim, her gaze flickering to him and off again.
Movement off to one side, a pigtailed head, alerts him to a familiar face. At least, the face would be familiar if it were turned toward him. As it's not, it's a familiar back-of-a-head. The cigarette is removed from his mouth and set next to the glass and a couple strides have him behind the familiar face. Mikjel's arms wrap around Maya's waist, squeezing her as he says, "Hey, salut, ma belle. How are you, then?"
Liam looks towards the man and shrugs his shoulders, reaching out to accept the extended hand, he gets a really omnious feeling but that's life... Shaking the other's hand he says, "Liam Lawson, as to what I study, virtually anything in truth, though I specialize in pre-rift items and history. I'm also more than alittle acquainted with Native Americans.. I come from the west."
Movement off to one side, a pigtailed head, alerts him to a familiar face. At least, the face would be familiar if it were turned toward him. As it's not, it's a familiar back-of-a-head. The cigarette is removed from his mouth and set next to the glass and a couple strides have him beside the familiar face. One of Mikjel's arms wraps around Maya's waist, squeezing her to him as he says, "Hey, salut, ma belle. How are you, then?" before pressing a kiss to her cheek.
Joachim's smile remains unconquerable against the onslaught of the shifting situation, the golden liquid in his glass spinning on and on and on into infinity. "We seem t'have a lot of people like that comin' from back out west. Prob'ly somethin' t'do with havin' to stay alive's, my guess. If you've got ..." he pauses, Mikjel's intercession causing his smile to deepen, "Hallo," he offers before continuing back at Liam, "Don't s'pose you've managed to collect yourself anythin' of interest from back in time?" And then the glass is thrown back, disappearing with no apparent affect as his hands busy themselves once more with the task at hand.
Maya lifts her glass, startled at the sudden embrace, and her eyes widen. She releases her cup, letting it float to the bar as she turns to greet the man. Joachim's widening smile is noted, and the wave of frustration from her would be obvious to any psychic open to it. She lifts her chin, the movement slight, as she turns to Mikjel, turning into that kiss to make it a full one, sliding from the stool to combine an enthused Maya hug with a long kiss.
Mikjel returns the kiss, one hand slipping to the back of Maya's head to press her lips to his. Breaking the kiss, he gives her a grin, arm slipping to wrap around her shoulders. "Affectionate as ever, ain't you?" He gives her a wink and disentangles himself, saying to the two men, "I'm Mik. Just a sec and I'll go get my drink. Left it behind when I saw Maya here."
Liam is a Psychic and as he does feel that he opts to back up at this point and is promptly attempting to exit as he says to Joachim, "A few things here and there, I cashed them in with a local broker.. I live in Coventry Place." That said he's backing up, nursing upon his juice lightly, he takes the moment as the man knowns as Mik departs to attempt to step away, obviously the type to err on the side of caution.
Joachim's smile remains wide, the glass continuing its interrupted spinning as Liam begins backing away with all the speed of a deer in headlights. "Ah, so nothing you've managed t'keep, then," he says with an obvious regretful tone. "Bit of a shame there, but I suppose you do what you need t'survive." The glass tilts up again into the smiling void that is his face, is refilled, and goes on spinning. "Though it'd probably be interestin' t'look over any notes you've got, if you'd be willin' t'share 'em."
Maya watches Mikjel leave, leaning back against her stool to give the other two a brilliant grin. The glass in Joachim's hands is noted and she narrows her eyes slightly, tilting her head. She listens to the conversation but there is a thoughtful expression on her face as she reaches out to pick up her glass, manually this time.
The music, beneath the speaker, is a nearly deafening beat, steel drums and strings. Mikjel recovers his glass and cigarette, taking a sip of the former and lighting the latter before wandering back toward the group. His glass is deposited on the table and his cigarette is held away from the others, a small courtesy. His free hand slips back around Maya's waist, giving her a little squeeze before he leans back and takes a long and happy drag off of his cigarette, blowing a plume of smoke toward the ceiling.
Jaochim... Is a prick... cause he found the one thing that makes Liam instantly jump right back into the conversation, as he smiles form ear to ear, "My notes? Oh certainly!" He actually pulls out a small note book and moves to take a seat, flipping it open and pointing towards the writing within... Oh god the writing within is so hard to read to the untrained.. its a hodgepodge of American, Japanese, Russian, and French...
The swirling of the glass continues as Joachim's target-for-conversation ... suddenly and wholeheartedly pulls back in, his expression shifting slightly as the notepad is produced. With a motion to get a better vantage on it, his eyebrows raise as he begins picking out what words he recognizes or can otherwise derive. "I think you'll have t'walk me through a bit of it. Where in partic'lar are you from? The West's a large place." His drinking slows then, taking a much more subdued mouthful.
Mikjel's return is slightly less of a large event and Maya accepts the embrace with a casual grace, leaning into him, as she listens to the conversation with actual interest. Maya's gaze moves often to Joachim, her expression bright and cheerful, but she turns to Mikjel abruptly, "Dance with me?" The words are a demand, almost, and the grin she gives him is broad, cheerful as she slides from the stool, abandoning both men and her drink.
The music slows, a single synthesised piano and wandering strings, sudden quiet after the previous, cacaphonic, tracks. Gradually, it swells, but the dance floor shifts, as dancers move off, seeking refreshment and others come on, moving slowly in the sudden quiet.
Mikjel finishes his cigarette, letting the last drag out with a sigh before butting out the dog-end on his boot. The cigarette gets replaced into the tobacco pouch and, with his free hand, he finds his drink, taking a swig. He gives Maya a grin, replacing his drink on the table and leading her to the dance floor, giving her a squeeze as he begins to move to the slower song.
Maya's departure is met with a distracted glance, quick double-take, and several seconds later, the finishing of Joachim's drink and refill. "Seems t'be an interestin' area, but I'd think it'd be pretty hard t'do a genealogy t'begin with. It'd take a whole lot've footwork an' question askin' of people not too keen on answerin', no?"
Liam nods his head abit and says, "This is true, but its more of a metaphorical genealogy, not quite a literal one... since well we know how Juicers are made." He flips through his texts, "But I have a few clues here and there.. And I cna only asume based off my vision adn the history this place has with Juicers that there is something about that to be the reason why I am."
Maya moves into Mikjel's arms with a willingness and they move with a practiced ease together, clearly comfortable with each other's pace and bodies. She teases him more, turning her back to him, him, her hips moving as she shimmies, lifting her arms to touch her hair as she does so. The grin on her lips is a brilliant one, her face lit up, apparently with the joy of dancing. Almost defiant.
Liam nods his head abit and says, "This is true, but its more of a metaphorical genealogy, not quite a literal one... since well we know how Juicers are made." He flips through his texts, "But I have a few clues here and there.. And I cna only asume based off my vision adn the history this place has with Juicers that there is something about that to be the reason why I am."
"Hm. Through your researchin', have you looked into the general..." Joachim's pouring-hand takes a break for the moment to gesture, trying to draw the words out of himself. "Group who goes for it? Tryin' to draw connections as to th'kind of person who seeks out the procedure? Goin' a bit more after th' sociology b'hind it, as opposed t'stickin' t'the advances in th'field?"
Holding Maya around the waist, Mikjel moves against her, body pressed to hers as he moves to the slow music. His feet and hips have the rhythm and he holds her against him, moving easily with her. Leaning in, his lips brush her ear, and words are whispered, "You ain't yourself tonight, Maya. What's the matter?" The words are punctuated with a nip of teeth at her neck, to all appearances the words passed between lovers dancing.
The club is packed, midnight or just past on a Friday night. At the bar, Joachim and Liam are talking as Joachim's bottle of spirits slowly vanishes. Maya's glass is abandoned there, but the girl is on the dance floor, wrapped around Mikjel who appears to be happily returning it, his teeth biting her neck as she leans back into him. "I'm just in an odd mood, Mik..." She turns, resting her arms around his neck with a broad grin, her eyes brightening with mischief. She jumps, wrapping legs around his waist, the movement flaring the skirt and baring a flash of thighs, trusting him to catch as she releases the grip on his shoulders.
Liam nods his head towards Jaochim, "Quite so, the technology doesn't intrique me as much as the history of it.. The core truths.. The things that make it work, these are what intriques me because no adays so many are driven by combat and money... whereas in the past the ture core of the Juicers, was that it waspart of an attempt by Science to achieve perfection throguh chemical alterations..." He smiles from eat to ear in a pleased fashion, sipping his juice as he converses with the man, his own buzz already settled upon his mind, "Are you truely interested in my work? You know I can touch up and authenticate anything you might need aswell."
"We get a few comin' through the Hospital, though by th'time they bother t'show up there's usually not a whole lot t'be done for 'em," Joachim says with a sigh as he moves to huddle somewhat closer over the bar. "An' it's an interestin' topic t'consider, an' I'm more'n happy to look over any notes or general thoughts you have as a bit of a hobby. An' as for the Process, t'me you've got it split into two - the people performin' it an' th'people bein' performed on. The ones tryin' t'be Juicers, I think, break down further - though ind'viduals will be different - into those tryin' to escape somethin' an' those tryin' t'be somethin'. If y'follow."
Mikjel does catch her, but it's with a slight "oof" at the unexpected exertion. Fearing that the pair of them might topple over at any moment, the dancers around them take a step back, clearing a little space for the pair of them. Holding her, he continues to dance, looking up at her and giving her a grin. "Might want to give a fellow a touch of warning before you go jumping on him. Hate to see us tipping over and knocking folk down." He gives her a squeeze, holding her up as he moves with her, a smile on his lips as he gazes into her eyes.
"I like to keep you on your toes." Maya's comment is light as she leans back, deliberately letting Mikjel hold her as she bends to touch her fingertips to the dancefloor. She doesn't make it, a faintly startled expression crossing her face for a moment, a brief frown, before she wrinkles her nose with a rueful grin as she uses the front of Mikjel's clothes to straighten, sliding down his body to land with her feet on the floor. She keeps her gaze on him as she does it, but there is a tension in her body that was not there before, obvious to the touch.
Tornaq is not allowed inside, which is probably a good thing. Though he has parked his furry white hide just outside the door, sitting beside it and looking far too protective for the woman's side that he has been forced to leave. The dangers of other people are not something he overlooks easily. The small Inuit woman takes a moment to lightly brush her fingers over his nose, and then she gives a small nod to the polar before stepping towards the door. She pushes it open and steps inside, senses assaulted by the music and lights. The latter forces her to blink a little, trying to grow accustomed to it, and she casts a backward glance towards the door, a wistful expression on her face. She shouldn't have come here. But she had to come, at least to see the inside of it once. She's heard enough stories of it for curiosity to finally bring her here. Taking a couple of steps inside, Monique stops then, her dark-eyed gaze settling upon a particular pair of figures on the dance floor. She shouldn't have come here. Anger and betrayal are the first emotions to touch her eyes, to reflect in her expression, and the fingers of one of her hands closes into a fist. Her fur parka has been left behind and elsewhere, and a scattering of raindrops sparkle where they have settled upon her during the brief fall of it which happened not all that long ago. Her free left hand lowers for her fingers to close on the bone hilt of a knife resting at her side.
Flare comes into the Alibi shortly after that and glances around the place. There are dark bags under her eyes like she isn't sleeping well. One looking close might notice she is steaming as she comes in, shaking a bit too.
Shrugging his shoulders abit the scholar, Liam, raises a finger, "True, but they further differentiate in that driving purpose aswell. Is it wrong to emulate for the proper reasoning?" Makinga light rolling gesture with his hand, "For power, for honor, for strength... For the capacity to protect one's self beyond a shadow or doubt?"
His glass swirling apparently of its own accord, Joachim's expression remains one of interest in the topic, though a certain faraway sadness has set up shop in the back corner of his eyes. His glass is lifted again, more out of an apparent duty than any mirth it seems to bring, "Ah, but that's th'way of men, to all do th'same few things for an infinite number of reasons - though t'say whether or not somethin' is right or wrong bring anythin' into a decidedly unflattering light. After all, what's th' 'proper' reason t'do anythin'? What's a reason beyond 'because I want to?'" The glass briefly waves to the ceiling.
Mikjel hugs Maya tightly, ceasing dancing for a moment as he makes sure that she's on her feet. A new track starts, this one faster, still piano, drums and strings but with a man's voice over top, half-singing, half-shouting, "Shall I think of honour as lies or lament its aged and slow demise?" He releases her and begins dancing again, unaware of Monique's presence as he moves next to Maya, waiting for her to catch her breath and regain her feet rather than sweeping her back into a dance.
Maya catches her breath quickly, her smile a little harder pushed, her gaze flickering to the bar to an instant, away from the furious woman. The lyrics of the track brings a brighter, glittering grin to her face, and she moves with it, arms raised, her eyes closed for a moment, as she moves, a quick dance step that brushes her against Mikjel often, casually.
The small Inuit woman tilts her head faintly to one side, and she gives her head a faint shake, attempting to block the music from her senses. Her focus remains upon Mikjel and the woman he is with. The woman who is not her. The knife is drawn, such a simple motion, and she flips it in her hand, catching it softly and closing her fingers around the hilt of it. Outside, meanwhile, Tornaq has risen to his paws, and he pushes his head through the swinging doors to bellow a dark roar that echoes too clearly the emotions of the shaman he protects. He doesn't break into the bar itself, he just makes that simple announcement which happens to also show off nearly all his fangs. His attention pins on Mikjel and the other woman. Turning her head, Monique speaks quickly, quietly, in her native tongue. The polar bear retreats to wait beyond the doors again, and Monique's dark-eyed gaze turns back to Mikjel and Maya. Her eyes flash with both the anger and betrayal she yet feels, emotions which will not likely leave her anytime soon. "I See you, Betrayer," Monique states, shifting the familiar weight of the knife in her hand. How she wishes it could be something more impressive than just a knife, but she is what she is, and the carved bone hilt of the knife is what she holds.
Liam Looks as though he is about to enter into a heated debate with Joachim.. or at least that is until the head of the giant polar bear pops in... THe roar causing him to jump as he literaly l jumps up and moves to flip a nearby table to Hide benehind. He's no warrior or even combative type.
Flare blinks a bit and was still by the door and the roar takes her off guard a bit and she can't focus at the moment, or lately and loses control for a moment, distracted and literally bursts into flames. So just behind Monique and has flames rolling off of her skin, leaving black marks on the floor, "Great...gonna make it difficult to get a job here." she mutters.
The roar brings a disinterested turn toward the door from Joachim - loud and sudden the noise was, but not entirely out of bounds for such a hopping club. He watches events transpire for a few moments before turning back to his bottle. He seems far less interested in the events unfolding than his glass, turning to Liam for a moment before shaking his head. "It was nice t'meet you. I might send a runner your way, but y'can find me down in Raleigh's or more likely the hospital in the dregs, if you're lookin' t'talk more." And he stands up just in time to see the other woman burst into flames, blinking as he finishes his glass, and moves to pick up the full bottle.
Mikjel freezes at the roar, turning slowly to face Monique. The crowd on the dance floor has parted but, as of yet, security hasn't got involved, paying more attention to the bear than to the woman with the knife. Raising his hands, half in a conciliatory gesture, half in self-defence, he says, "Betrayer? I ain't sure as that's the right word for dancing with --" He breaks off mid-sentence as Flare bursts into flames, staring over Monique's shoulder at the sudden sight.
Maya steps back, her grin vanished at the shout, and she turns to face the woman, utter confusion on her face. Mikjel's response brings her head in a slow turn towards him, suspicion rising slowly before she shakes her head, as light dawns. Flare's display of flames isn't noticed, her eyes on his back before she turns her head, her eyes sparkling with a rare display of her temper, and a full beer bottle from a nearby table rises, floating above the crowd to Mikjel's head and turning itself up on end, pouring the fluid over the man. Maya leaves it floating there until empty and then lets it fall as she walks off the dance floor, cheeks scarlet, heading towards the door. She stops, giving Monique a wary look, hands raised in a defensive movement, "I had no idea he was taken." The statement is loud and clear, spoken so anyone listening can hear. She is a good ten foot from Monique, with the woman between her and the door.
The great white polar bear remains outside, for the time being. It's where he was sent to go, after all. Though he has parked himself right by the door, since there are certain people who will not be allowed out unharassed by him. Dark eyes hold fast upon Mikjel, and she is far from calm or being anywhere near calm. "Betrayer, yes. Think none see, when go with her, when stay with her? Think none know what happen, between you and she? Just because not speak well with these words, not mean stupid! Not mean I not know, I not see or learn!" she exclaims, words and tone both harsh. Here, then, is where the frayed threads of her control over her temper snap, and she lifts the knife, flipping it and catching it as she readies it to throw. It is only Maya's placement into the situation which prevents her from doing so. Her attention turns briefly to Maya, and she tilts her head faintly to one side. "You, not leave," she says, giving a small nod. She doesn't go into details, but it likely has something to do with the very large and equally angry polar bear outside who would cause bodily harm if she did leave. Monique's dark gaze turns to Mikjel again, and her eyes narrow slightly. Almost challenging him to continue to deny things as they are.
Liam just sits under the table he flipped.. Drawing out a pen and flipping to an open page in his note book he starts to write. Looking back over his shoulder and the table to watch the scene unfold. Starting to take notes over the events.
Flare is still burning in flames which don't seem to be harming her one bit, just darkening the floor a little. She is also projecting heat. She glances towards the doors for a moment and then at the beer being dumped and Maya and Monique. A light dawns for a moment and she fumbles into a pocket and pulls out a e-clip sized object. She does something (Channels ISP into it) and a sphere of red appears around her. In an 8 foot radius around the flaming woman is a globe of faint red tinting the air. The floor doesn't seem to be darkening anymore. "I think this was a bad time."
Staff here are armed, not only with weapons but magic, and they do not fear to use it. The largest bouncer, an older killcat, addresses the woman with the knife. "You have a choice here, young lady. You can ease down, nice and sweet, or we can make you do so. My men have your bear surrounded and at my word, they will fire. How this ends is entirely up to you." His voice is deliberately calming, hands held up, seemingly unarmed himself. Staff are also approaching Flare, armed with words of warning. Extinguish or be extinguished.
As the situation continues on its merry path, Joachim hesitates a moment as Maya interjects her piece, and Joachim pauses for a moment, turning back to the bar. His order from previous is repeated, the bottle slid into a pocket, and he begins making his own exit, his bottle lifting as he moves, doing his best to avoid any of the embroiled parties.
Maya herself steps back, to the side, moving out of the fight, away from the door. Stepping back into Joachim's path. Mikjel is definitely person non gratia and she doesn't look at him, her eyes on the woman and the staff members, keeping them between her and the knife.
The music continues, as albums do, though only the drunkest of patrons are still dancing. A circle has formed around the confrontation as people edge away from the problem. The beat is still pounding, driving and the singer is saying, "And none will be spared, no remnant saved, and are you ashamed, are you afraid, do you think that you'd be saved."
Mikjel continues to stand, hands raised, as he faces Monique. Looking her in the eyes, he says, "You reckon as I've done you hurt worth killing over, then sobeit. Me, I don't see as any promises were made to be broken, but you all might see it different. I reckon I ain't making it home alive if you want me dead, so if you all are gonna kill me, throw the damned knife and get it over with, so I ain't waiting all night to be eat by Tornaq."
The music swells, the beat quickens and the singer repeats the words, "None will be saved," over and over.
When the largest of the bouncers comes up to her, Monique takes a step back from him, uncertain. This would be why she often doesn't venture into places with many people. Weighing the words, the further addition to the situation, Monique first lowers the knife, then returns it to the sheathe where it had come from. She turns to Mikjel, her brow furrowing a little. "I not say want you be killed. Love mean that little, then? Sit aside when prettier come? Fine. If want her more than me, take her. Have her," she says simply. She wouldn't have killed him, either, because despite it all, she loves him. She looks to the bouncer near her, then gives a small nod. "I go. Not hurt Tornaq," she says quietly, a hint of pleading to her voice. If he is attacked, he will do so in turn. And she doesn't want that kind of war. She didn't even want the one that came. She doesn't look to Maya at all, she just steps towards the door, to leave. Let her not have to look back so that the tears in her eyes can remain at least mostly hidden, though they do start to trickle to her cheeks.
Flare stands where she is. As the staff approach, she starts to cry a bit. "I...can't." she shakes her head and has lost control for some reason, she doesn't know but she needs to find out. "The..red globe...makes things immune." she stutters and then turns, "Need to go." the globe does follow her as she moves.
The staff lower the weapons, reaching out to guide Monique towards the door. If she goes peacefully, they do let her and the polar bear go, turning back to consider Mikjel and Maya with guarded gazes.
The bar staff start serving quickly, and the dance music gets interrupted with a female vocalist, familiar to the locals, as the lights lower and she is spotlighted, lightly flirtacious and distracting from the drama.
Joachim moves past Maya, his expression rather neutral behind the bottle of alcohol - and his gait surprisingly smooth for one who's just polished off 3/4 of a bottle of whiskey. But go he does, following the shifting of the staff until he is stopped or simply ignored to take his leave.
With a heavy sigh, Mikjel moves back to the table. He picks up the glass, looking over at the staff. "I'll be going, soon as the bear ain't about, if that's all right." He takes a long drink, half-draining the glass of rye, then continues, "And I'll be right understanding if I ain't welcome back here, neither. What with being the center of a scene and all." He tips the glass back, drinking the rest of the rye in one draught, before setting the glass down and shaking his head slowly.
Maya's attention is taken from the woman for a brief moment, to Joachim, her face stricken as he walks past her. Then she steps back, behind the staff as she takes her leave, her cheeks scarlet, past the staff controlling both bear and woman, fleeing.
Liam waits a few moments for everyone to leave, before standing back up and dusting himself off, muttering hismself in french, "You've gotta meet better contacts Liam.." RIghting the table he was hiding unde rhe turns to the bartender and orders himself aTom Collins, no cherry. Quietly shaking his head as he waits, "Mon dieu..."
Flare is hovering near the doors still, flames surrounding her body. She is surrounding by a red globe that extends 8 feet in each direction. She isn't making any marks on the floor anymore but she is crying. She is trying not to get too close to anyone, but there were a large group of people right at the door.
The singer lasts until things are clear, and Maya, Joachim, Monique and the bear are all gone, the dancers are up, and then the DJ takes over once more. Her footsteps are first towards the staff surrounding the helpless Flare. Her face is thoughtful, if on the hard side and the swish of her skirt does not suggest a good mood. "I think, ma petite, if you lack control, you must leave my bar. You are welcome back, when you do not risk my home." The staff jump too then, moving to encourage Flare to leave, their orders given.
Then she makes her way towards the bar, standing beside Mikjel with a feline smile on her lips. Her face is utterly pleasant, her voice a throaty purr as the petite woman speaks softly, below the level of the music. "If your women fight here again, Mikjel, I will have you beaten and banned. Are we clear, ma petite?" The accent is an odd mix of Kingsdale and French, a low, throaty purr. Liam's bartender is calm, familiar with the explosive nature of the town.
Mikjel continues to shake his head, saying to Liam in French, <There is no god, he died when the world ended. So anyway, bienvenue a Kingsdale, she's one hell of a town.> To Aimee, still in French, he continues,
Flare is crying heavily, "I..don't know...what's wrong." she glances to the spot where she did darken the floor. "I will pay for that." she stutters and does move towards the door, clutching the eclip shapped thing in her hand that she pulled out when the globe appeared around her. She doesn't set anything on fire because of that...luckily. "Sorry, so...sorry." she stutters, even more so since she had plans to try and get a job there, but forgets about that as she moves to get out the doors. Out of the Alibi, lost in tears.
Aimee's expression does not suggest that she is impressed, and she easily lapses into the language, her own less elegant, "Mikjel, this is your fault, but me, I do not turn away any credits. Yours are as good as the next man's." Her displeasure is a near tangible thing, her beloved bar a protected thing. "This is your warning, yes?" She trusts Flare's departure to the staff, knowing them to be competent.
Mikjel walks toward the bar, ordering another drink. Turning back to face Aimee, he says, <Then my banishment will be self-imposed, at least until I know that neither of them are going to come looking for me.> Drink in hand, he downs it in one gulp, turning a little unsteadily and saying, in American this time, "If the bear ain't about, I'd best be going. I'll come back when I know that nobody'll be causing a fracas on my behalf."
"The bear is gone." Aimee's self assurance is based on the knowledge of her staff's abilities and she gives Mikjel a nod, an odd smile on her lips. "Mikjel, ma petite, you are trouble born and walking." With that, she turns to employ her considerable charm on her customers, soothing here, flirting here...
Asselar steps hesitantly into the bar, continuing to look over his shoulder, his expression one of puzzlement. when he finally takes in the sights of the bar he blinks at the scorch marks on the floor. Noticing Aimee, he blanches but puts on a determined face and approaches her, asking "Ummm... Hi Aimee. I see the scorch marks and I'm not sure exactly what I passed coming in, but was anyone hurt?" Somehow, he manages to get it all out without stammering.
Mikjel considers one more glass of courage, but decides against it. Instead, he recovers his coat and makes his way toward the door, his legs a little uncertain as he does. Reaching the door, he turns and says, maybe a little louder than intended, "I'm right sorry about the disturbance, and I won't be back until it's all under the bridge."
Aimee glances across at Mikjel, before she glides off, into the background, her work in the front done.
