Apr 23 18:34:37 107 PA - Alibi Social

From Chronicles

The current game time is: Sun Apr 23 18:34:37 107 PA. Kingsdale - The Alibi

Bartholemew enters the club checking his weapon as required before moving over to the bar to order a drink, finding a seat at the corner of the bar to watch the customers enjoying the music. The bartender brings the man a beer and a shot of whiskey most likely by it's appearance which he slams down quickly chasing with the beer and sliding the empty shot glass over for another.

Ash is lounging at the bar, idly chatting with a few different people though not about much of consequence judging by the less than active and intent expression on the quick-flex's face. He drinks a glass of some sort of dark liquid but it's not apparently something he wishes to drink quickly. Instead he takes small drinks now and again. He glances over towards the activity with shot slamming and whatnot, glancing at Bartholemew for a brief look then returning to his idle chatter about nothing at all.

Bartholemew turns in his barstool to lean back and relax, his eyes seem to roam over everyone in the room eventually, even brushing by the Quickflex in conversation. His eye seems to linger here and on the repainted dog boy armor that is worn which kinda brings a grin to his face.

Badly damaged dog boy armor at that, showing a deep furrow from some sort of bladed weapon, and on the back shoulder a softball sized hole is burned through the coat and pitting the back plate as well. Ash eventually finishes his drink and then looks around to the bartender to get another. Looking over towards the armored and near military haircut looking individual Ash hmms, "How much a suit of that run?" He asks, gesturing towards the armor the man wears with his free hand.

Bartholemew gives a bit of a who me look before answering, "Oh round 70k I think it was...at the Gunnery. Used to wear Bushman but a dragon felt it was out of date and ripped it off me." giving a non chalant shrug swigging from his beer.

"Lucky that's all it ripped off." Ash says with an amused grin, "Most of what I know about them, which isn't a lot, is that they tend to be rather more destructive than just a suit of armor." He hmms, "70 grand... that's a fair bit of credits." clucking his tongue against the roof of his mouth before he shrugs, "Likely just have to get this patched up. Oh well."

Bartholemew nods, "I know of a TW that does rather cheap repairs as well as a mechanic that is always looking for work if your interested. I think the mechanic dude will be cheaper though...he'll work for barter I've heard."

Ash hmmms, "That might be worth checking out, who's this mechanic? Don't need any TW stuff added in." He asks curiously, taking a drink from his glass afterwards. Apparently the conversation he was involved in is over as the people who were near to Ash and talking to him before are heading off."

Bartholemew slams the shot in front of him pushing the glass forward for a refill, "Guys name is Galvin. Usually found out by the landing strip. I met him though at Monkey Biz. Good guy, check him out, I'm sure he can work something out for ya. You get that armor first hand?"

"Nah." Ash says, "Don't make a habit of going anywhere near the skulls for any reason at all. They're to jealous of my good looks and try to kill me all the time." He sighs and then shrugs, "But, what's a guy to do?" He grins afterwards, "But, I like this. Wearing the armor of the hunters... damned Dog Boys always sniffing about. It's light though, and tough... comfortable."

Bartholemew nods swiging his beer, "I can't stand them muthers. I tend to make it a point to join in on taking out as many as possible. Got me a cyle that I took from the Emporers brothers second cousins next door neighbors sisters brother. Nice ride but down a few missles at the moment. They ain't cheap."

"One of their Skycycles?" Ash asks curiously, "Would love to get hold of one of those... Might kill myself trying to learn how to fly it if it's to different from my hovercycle... but damn that would be nice." He shrugs, "They got good stuff, the skulls, mighty risky taking them on like that though. It's not like they're you're usual scrubs or freelancers."

Bartholemew nods with a chuckle, "Thats fer sure. Wasn't an easy task to say the least. Alot of luck was involved."

Ash sits at the bar, not far from where Bartholomew sits, the two apparently drinking and having a pleasant conversation. "If someone ever goes out with the intention of hitting them for armor, weapons, stuff like that.... would be a hell of a payday if can pull it off." He tilts his head to the side and shrugs, "Might be worth it... can't say I wouldn't mind slapping them in the face like that. Especially with them distracted with Tolkeen and Free Quebec."

Bartholemew nods, "Well there's a couple of outposts that send out patrols regularly. Sometimes you can catch a courier or small scouting patrol out and by surprise. They still need to keep an eye on Kingsdale here so usually it's not a huge patrol so not to attract attention. You any good with a radio?"

Nemain slips in covering a yawn with one hand. Her attention flicking towards hte middle of the floor to see if there really is a scorch mark there. Then she lets her attention shift to who's here. A little out of place here, some might think. Others might just grin over her and go back to their drinks.

"As in using one? Sure. Radios, Computers... all sorts of stuff." Ash says with a shrug, "Not an engineer, but I know how to use 'em and the like fine." He looks over towards Nemain and lifts a hand in a wave, "Hey Nema." He offers to her in greetings, apparently, familiar enough to shorten her name or so he thinks at least. He looks back to Bartholemew, "Why do you ask?" He asks curiously.

Bartholemew tilts his head side to side slightly, "Well..I could use a person that is good with intercepting radio transmissions from the CS to their outposts. That way an attack can be planned to take out one of these small patrols or couriers. I'm know how to use them but not very proficient with the cryptography needed to get those kind of transmissions." He glances over to Nemain with a smile as Ash acknowledges her, giving a nod of his own in greeting.

Nemain lifts a hand to wave as she moves easily across the floor, ignoring the stares she's getting as if they are rather common to her entering the room. "Radios? Did someone need one fixed?" she asks as she siddles up to the bar and flags down a barkeep. "What dod you have that's light weight catagory?"

Ash mmms, "Can't really help you with that. I'm not a code breaker." Ash says honestly, "It's not in the Dregs Public Education system unfortunately." He smiles amusedly at that, "You could check with Vixen, don't know if she'll do it but she was queen of the radio around here for a while. No idea how much that would cost though. Everything costs in the Dregs." He shrugs a bit and takes another drink from his glass. "Nah, not fixed. Hey, can you charge e-clips and the like Nema? Not sure what facilities you guys have available." He gestures towards his now beat up armor, no longer pristine, "Only thing I need fixing is my armor and some recharges... well besides my beat up bike you already know about."

Bartholemew chuckles at the jest, "I've never met this Vixen chick, but might be worth finding her for a chat. The transmissions are key to catching these patrols by surprise. What about you?" he asks Nemain, "Any good with code cracking?"

Nemain glances over to Ash as he asks her about charging e-clips. "Afraid I haven't built that yet. Would cut too much into several profits, so I'm kinda bound on it. Armor though could be a test of some new spells I've bene working on learning." Her pearly teeth showing for a moment as she nibbles at her lower lip with the movement of her eyes to Bart. "Depends on if you have equipment or not. Get your hands on an active comm unit from the dead-heads and I cna get it singing for you in next to no time."

Ash nods, "Ah well, was worth a shot." He then hmmms, "What sort of test spells?" He asks, "Don't know much about magic... never heard of one of my people ever being able to become a mage so don't know that much about it really." He then looks towards Bartholemew, "Well, sounds like you found one code breaker. Wouldn't it be better to try and hit an APC while it's escort was off though? Better chance of good salvage?"

Bartholemew smiles pleased with the response, "Thanks, I'll see what I can do to find one. Hopefully there will be one in the hands of a dead dead boy." he looks to Ash, "Nice thought, but an APC is not an easy target to hit. Usually has troops inside."

Nemain hmms softly as she glances between the two. Then curls onto a seat, crossing her legs and waits for the barkeep to bring her something non-cool-aided. "Was working out Mend the broken for a job. I get the spell perminently as payment."

Ash shrugs, "So do patrols. At least you'd have a better chance of getting undamaged suits and the like then. If you dug out a pit trap or something, someway of stopping it you could then deal with the troops. Otherwise... most of what you get is likely to be battle damaged to the point of uselessness. 'Cept for maybe weapons." He raises an eyebrow at Nemain, "That'll make my armor good as new?" He asks, "I didn't know magic could do that." He admits.

Bartholemew nods, "Aye, your right. But... The amount of troops an APC can hold can be a bit much to handle without a force that can match their firepower. A small patrol of cycles is a bit easier to handle. I ain't got an army to lead into battle, but take out the bike engines and the bike goes down taking the rider with them. Armor should be reasonable undamaged as well as the bike only needing to have the engines replaced."

Nemain clears her throat at that. "That would depend a bit on what they hit coming down and it the rider arms the destruct or tries to force more power through the damaged engines, wouldn't it?" Her snowy brows arching in question at that.

Ash shrugs, "Don't know about you, but nuclear engines aren't exactly cheap for me to get these days." Ash says dryly he shrugs, "Actually, so long as the power plant doesn't get breached... could use one of those. Permanent power to charge e-clips and my bike... or hell... bet it'd go for a pretty penny on the market too." He then nods towards Nemain, "That too. I can't imagine the armor would still be in good shape if the pilot inside it got squished." he takes a drink from his glass and shrugs, "Now, the real prize... would be taking the APC whole... even -damaged- it'd be worth it. Stop it, storm the door, take out the guys inside..." He sighs and gets that far off dreamy look in his eyes that someone often gets when thinking of the impossible.

Bartholemew looks to Nemain with a smile and nod taking a swig of his beer that kills it. "There are alot of things that could happen. The pilot could launch a volley of missles at ya and blow you to smithereens too. Just have to be luckier than he is. If you can take out the APC's weapons, radio and tires in the first attack then you might have a chance even if fully loaded with troops. Just pick em off as they exit or hell they might even surrender knowing they are screwed. It'd have to be a damn good team to pull off though I think."

Nemain lifts a hand to signal the barkeep over again. "I think the gent there needs a tissue. He's wet dreaming again." Her nose wrinkling as she turns to look back to Bart again. "Doom-sayer. I was only pointing out ways that the bike would need much more than some engine repair. And from what I've heard, the guys in the suits are usually pretty stupid or brain washed into nothingness."

Looking over at Nemain the quick-flex smirks, "Like you wouldn't kill to get your hands on a fully charged reactor Nema. Just -think- of what you could do with it." He chuckles and then shrugs, "I still think stopping the APC wouldn't be that hard to do. Find out their routes, put explosives down to frag the tires. Take out any radio antennae on the top at the same time. Hit them hard and fast..." He shrugs, "The key would be making sure not to stick around for reinforcements to show up. Load up the spare armor, weapons, and ammo inside the APC and get out asap." He chuckles, "Either way, it's a dream really. I'm good, but it'd take a lot more than just me or even a dozen me's to pull that off."

Bartholemew chuckles, "They may be stupid and brainwashed, but they are not totally incompetent soldiers. They get some of the best training available..I will give that to em. Still need the cryptographer to get the routes being used and times they will be running the route. Good ideas though."

Nemain nos slightly as she finally gets her drink. Looks like soeone's gotten cream something over ice. A scent of mint waifting away from her. "Ohh, I never said they couldn't fight. Just that they tend to do patterened things. And as I said get the unit and I cna probably make it sing for you."

Ash notes, as an aside, "Wouldn't any helmet from any suit of dead boy armor have a radio in it to use that would work?"

Nemain shakes her head. "Those are usually short bounce transmitters. You need the APC unit or maybe one form a bike of backpack set-up to get the scrambler codes, I'd think."

Bartholemew nods in agreement, "Aye, would need a long range unit. Damn helmets don't have the range needed to get the signal from base."

Ash ahs, shrugs, "Well, that makes it a lot tougher then. Maybe if you could find one of..." He snaps his fingers, "You know, I was in a fight with a couple skelebots a little while back. I bet one of their radio's would have worked but I didn't grab one, didn't think about it at the time."

Nemain cants her head at that. "Skelbots? I'm not sure they have a long range setup. Well, perhaps if they used the whole body as an antena. That could perhaps work out."

Bartholemew shrugs as his next beer and shot finally arrive from the busy bartender as the dance crowd starts getting a little more dense with time getting later, "I'm not sure bout them, never dealt with those bastards. Tough buggers I hear."

"Nah they went down pretty easy." Ash says with a shrug, "Weren't all that special, kind of dumb now that I think about it." He pats the pistol on his hip, "My 327 was sufficient." He then looks at Nemain, "I can't imagine they're that short of range. They often go off on long range patrols and suchlike alone. What if they needed to be called back or report something?" He hmmms and then takes a drink from his glass. "Though, I could be wrong I suppose. I am even less a robotic engineer than I am a code breaker."

Bartholemew chuckles, "Guess more reputation than muscle. I'm sure they would have a radio man with them if they needed one for something like that."

Nemain nods and lifts her drink for a small sip. Her eyes narrowing as she swings around to glance at the barkeep. "Wow... Irish cream? That's really teh weakest you've got?"

Ash shrugs, "I'm real fast." He says to Bartholemew, "So, I guess depending on who you are they could be scary. Still, they went down pretty quick. The Psi-Stalker with them was a bigger threat than they were." He considers, "There was this mean as hell looking one though, fast and more dangerous. Did this." He reaches up and touches the furrow in his arm, "Had four arms and a tail, horns on it's head. Was pretty fast." He then looks at Nemain and smiles, "It -is- a bar Nema."

Bartholemew smiles, "Guess next time you meet one you will know better and clip its wings so to speak." he chuckles.

Nemain sticks her tongue out at Ash. "I realize it's a bar. Usually they have a non-alocho item or two on the menu." Her lips quirking slightly as she mulls over the taste. "They sound interesting. And certainly not something you want to meet in a dark alley way."

"Probably not." Ash says with amusement at Nemain's comment, "Cost me half a clip to put one down." He shrugs then looks at the woman, "So tell me about this spell of yours that works on armor? What's it cost to work?"

Bartholemew goes to listening for the time being sipping on his whiskey and beer. The question sounds like it might have an interesting reply.

Nemain chuckles softly as she shakes her head. "From what I've been learning of it is that you need an equal amount of substance to repair what's missing. Pump the magics into the spell and it takes the substance and uses it to make the item whole again to new."

The door opens and admits a woman dressed in a waterproof poncho. The rain has tamed her hair somewhat and the change in temperature causes her glasses to fog up. Confronted with the club's bouncers, she blinks in confusion, then begins pulling items out of a black satchel, a little sheepishly, and handing them over. There are apologies given, though the staff don't seem all that concerned.

Ash sits at the bar, talking with Nemain and Bartholemew, the three apparently having some sort of conversation as they drink. "So then I'll need some sort of tough stuff to use... well, that's no good. I was hoping it'd be like... you know, magic. Presto fixed." He grins at the woman and then shrugs, "From now on, I start seriously scavenging left over pieces of armor and stuff... otherwise, I'll never get anywhere. One guy told me it'd cost me 14 grand to repair this." He wrinkles his forehead in a frown, since he doesn't have a nose to wrinkle. "Hell... I'd have to sell some precious stuff for that. Business is slow for me these days." He sighs and shrugs. He looks over towards the door when the bouncers go into action a little more than normal, studying the new arrival.

Bartholemew gives a glance in the doors direction as well but doesn't seem too distracted by it, another day at the club really. "Could just jump a couple of gang bangers and take their armor of remnants there of. Be easier than a CS patrol by far."

Nemain chuckles softly as she shakes her head. "It has to be matter as far as I know.. Rocks, ore, armor scraps would be good too. Other than that it's just a matter of how much the person casting it going to charge. It's a pretty hefty spell."

Everything that might be remotely dangerous pulled out of her bag and handed over, the woman removes her glasses, wiping them on the poncho before putting them back on. She makes her way to the bar, next to the trio, and exchanges a few credits for a bottle of water, asking the bartender, "Who does hiring for singer?" GEtting an answer, she fishes around in her bag and begins to write out a note, pushing it across the bar to the bartender.

Ash grins, "You know, by nature Magic shouldn't have such arbitrary limits. I mean, it's magic." It's obvious he's teasing Nemain but then he looks over at Bartholemew, "Nah, picking on a gang just pisses off the rest of them. It's like, a more vicious and dirty fighting group of the skulls. They don't forget and don't really forgive. I'd prefer to not start picking fights with them. Lived here all my life, so far, managed to remain alive by doing that, served me well."

Bartholemew shrugs giving another look at the woman looking for an entertainment position, "Your prolly right. I've lived here most of my life cept for the short bit I spent fighting the CS elsewhere. Be better on the health to not gain enemies at home. Maybe the junk yard has some scraps that would be suitable for the spell?"

Nemain nods to that. "The junk yard would be a good place to start." She glances to Ash and shakes her head, "Everything has limits. Including how far one will take being teased." Then glances away towards where the guys were looking not too long ago.

Lise finds herself a place to sit, removing the poncho and revealing a dark red dress, before she perches on the stool, a slight blush tinging her cheeks as she looks across the dance floor. Her water bottle is held at her side as she watches the dancers, trying not to eavesdrop on the conversation next to her.

"Yeah?" Ash asks Nemain, "Funny thing about limits, they're broken all the time and in the damndest of places." He shrugs and then takes a drink from the dark liquid in his glass. "That's an idea. I should see what it would cost to have the Clash let me in. Might be fun if I ran into one of them tentacled squid beasts that roam in there."

Bartholemew sips on his beer and finishes his shot but doesn't slide it forward for a refill just listening to the conversation at the moment.

Nemain tsks softly as she shakes her head. "You do like to push, don't you? Not winning any points at the moment, I can assure you." She lifts her glass for another side of the creamy drink within and glances to Bart. "He's the smarter of the pair of you." she muses as she gestures to Bart with her glass.

At the mention of tentacled squid-beasts, the woman's eyes widen a little before she goes back to trying to look like she isn't listening to the conversation. Listening to the music, her fingers tap out the beat on her water bottle as she raises it to her lips, a smile crossing them as she recognises the music being played and nods her head slowly.

"Funny. I didn't know there was a scoring competition of any sort." Ash says with a shrug, "Or that you were the judge." He stretches a bit and yawns before he finishes his drink and then turns to lean his back against the bar and look over the crowd of dancers and patrons of the club. "Though, I find it amusing that you'd come down here, slumming it in the Dregs and all, then say anything about scoring points or who's the smarter." Apparently things just are getting a might bit unfriendly now.

Bartholemew raises a brow as words are starting to get a little hostile, perhaps a bit of a grin on his face, keeping quiet to let them hash out the differences that seem to be arising.

Nemain quirks a brow up at Ash. "Slumming it? As if I was high society, hardly. I work a shop like many others." She nods towards the dance floor, "That's one of hte main draws anyway. As for the points?" A vulpine grin flashes, "They were for who gets the first dance." That said she rises and offers a hand to Bart, "Want to?"

As the words start to get harsh, the woman edges her stool a little away from the group, but as Nemain moves to defuse the situation, Lise lets out the breath that she didn't realise that she was holding. On noticing that she made more noise than she intended, she quickly turns away, taking another long drink of her water, cheeks flaming.

Ash yawns again and shrugs, "Like that was ever any doubt." He notes conversationally in a slow drawl, "Even in Kingsdale, people tend to stick to their own race." He gestures to the bartender and points towards his empty glass, motioning for another apparently.

Bartholemew smiles offering a shrug and his hand, "Sure, why not. Though I have to warn you, I dance as well as a three legged horse. I try though." he chuckles getting up from his stool to go out on the dancefloor with the Techno wiz.

Nemain offers Bart a small grin as they get out of ear range of Ash and murmurs, "I'm far from grace on two feet myself. But it can be entertaining to try, right?" She glances to him again as they near the dance floor. "Can you waltz? It's a fairly simple one."

A quiet voice next to Ash asks, "There are many people here who are not human?" Behind the large glasses, her eyes are wide and her gloved hands tighten and relax around the water bottle held in her lap.

Ash looks over at Lise when she asks that question, thankfully able to pick up things he might otherwise miss thanks to a select bit of cybernetics. "What?" He asks of the woman with a curious and slightly confused look on his face. "Not human?" He smiles wryly, "Where have you been sweety. The whole worlds full of people who aren't human." He gestures around to indicate the various races that inhabit the club alone with a chuckle and a wry smile, "Fair to say a large part of Kingsdale isn't human. Everything from Dragons to Floopers."

Bartholemew smiles with fun on his mind, "We can certainly give it a whirl." giving a light chuckle joining her on the dance floor. Taking her hand in his and putting a hand on her waist in general form so to speak. It takes him a bit to get into the rythym of the music being played but he doesn't step on any toes.

Nemain lets Bart lead as it's proper. She settles into the rhythm of the music as he does and does give it a whirl, so to speak.

The woman shakes her head slowly, saying, "I am not from here, no. I know there are many people who are not human, but this is new to me. I come from German Republic, hope to work in hospital, help people." A hand is thrust in Ash's direction and she says quickly, "Lisel-- Lise Chaudette. I am Lise Chaudette and I am just got here, look for work."

"German Republic?" Ash asks, "Where's that? Don't have D-Bee's in this place?" He wrinkles his forehead in a frown then reaches out to shake Lise's hand, "Sounds like the Coalition should move there. Leave us here in peace." He smiles wryly, "I'm Ash." He introduces himself, "And if you're wanting medical work, paying medical work that is... I'd suggest the enhancement clinic. While we need Doctors in the Dregs, doubt you're going to get a lot of money working in the clinic down here."

Bartholemew does his best to keep with the music, losing step here and there but just gives Nemain a spin and catches back up with time and proceeds. His armor is also not the best for dance floor activities being bulky and not designed well for delicate maneuvers.

Said armor is probably keeping his toes safe from Nemain as well as she stumbles every once in a while. She doesn't seem to mind that she gets spun every once in a while so he can keep up.

Lise shakes her head again, saying, "German Republic is in Europe. They were in big war with magic people from outside, dangerous people. Republic is not like Coalition, does not kill people for talking about Days Before." She takes a sip of her water, turning to face him. "I come here because I hear that refugees from Coalition War of Aggression come here. Not worried about work paying well. Doctor should be helping people, not trying to make money." Glancing at him and then out at the dance floor, she asks, curious, "Why do people come to club wearing armour, anyway?"

Ash taps his own damaged armor, "Because outside these doors, the guns and vibro-blades are still very real." He gestures towards the door where the bouncers take weapons, including those few things she was carrying. "It's not safe to roam the Dregs. Even if you know them inside and out. Some people like to think they're above getting attacked, but they're wrong, it just hasn't happened -yet-." He nods his thanks to the bartender when his new drink arrives, finally, or maybe Ash is just now noticing that it was already delivered. He takes a drink from the glass and shrugs a bit, "When some can blast you into vapor with the single squeeze of a trigger, armor seems like a good idea. The cops don't come here for their own safety."

Bartholemew has a smile apparant with having fun. He gets a bit carried away at one point stumbling slightly as he whirls Nemain around, bumping into another couple enjoying the music. "'scuse me dude." he says to the guy.

Nemain laughs lightly as she flows with the stumbling Merc. "Carefull, they get upset if you trample the other dancers. Sometimes even ask you to leave, the wretches."

Looking even more confused, Lise takes a sip of her drink, finally saying, "But I thought war was north of here. Far north. Maybe I sound the naif, but there is killing happening outside club? I should be leaving apartment wearing armour just in case war starts in streets?" She shakes her head, setting the empty water bottle on the bar and waiting for the bartender. "I come here because I want to help, but I no longer want to be at the front of fighting, either."

Ash shrugs, "Does the German Republic not have slums? Where they put the undesirables? Those they don't want to look at or are to poor to afford better?" He gestures with his drink towards the door, "Outside there, the Dregs, is just that. It's where the people to poor to live anywhere else but don't want to be food for monsters in the wilderness, or killed by a Coalition Patrol have to live." He takes a drink from his glass, "If you don't want to be in a dangerous place, go to the enhancement clinic, stay in the northwest portions of the city. Down here, the only law is the gangs, and what personal power one can manage to acquire."

Bartholemew chuckles, perhaps the alchol he has drank is affectin his balance and perhaps his attitude. Still in a good mood, but perhaps a bit cocky, "They just need to chill and have some fun. Not like I'm killin anyone. They can live with sore toes." he says with a laugh.

Nemain chuckles softly as she flows with Bart through the end of the song. She leans into the twirl, drawing them to the edge with the last beats of the song. "Not yet." she teases lightly and winks.

Lise says, slowly, "German Republic has poor, yes. Many villages of the poor. Where I lived as a girl, we were very poor. But killing, all killing I saw was in war." She considers his words, then says, finally, "No. I have put note in with hospital. I know how to make enhancement, some enhancements, but I want to help people, not make money. If hospital tells me no, then I look at other places or set up clinic myself."

Ash shrugs, "Your choice." He takes a drink and looks out over the dance floor briefly before he looks back to Lise, "Learn how to take cover, get some armor and a solid pistol at least. Some means to defend yourself, learn the rules, watch for the gangs, carry enough credits to bribe them. Otherwise, they'll just take out their payments on you." He says in a matter of fact tone. "Down here, the strong prey on the weak. This is one of the few semi-neutral places in the Dregs." Another drink is taken, "Survival of the fittest."

With the songs end Bart smiles happily to Nemain, heading back to their seats "It'd be just a little." he chuckles. "Can I buy you a shot or somethin? I could use another beer."

Nemain trails back with Bart as she shakes her head. "No, but thanks. If I have much more I'll need to be rolled home." She offers a small smile to Lise as seh passes back to where her drink sits mostly untouched. A couple sips out of the irish cream.

Lise nods at the advice, accepting a new bottle of water from the bartender. He receives a smile and a few credits before she turns back to Ash. "I have armour, legacy from being field doctor. And my family, they taught me to learn rules quick, to adapt to every village we lived in." She gives the returning pair a smile and raises her water bottle to them.

Ash flicks a glance over to the returning couple then looks back to Lise. "Well, lets hope they tought you well then." He offers a small smile to the woman. "Just remember, a dead doctor doesn't help anyone." And he takes another drink before falling quiet.

Bartholemew orders another shot of whiskey and a beer. He gives a chuckle at the irish cream she is drinkin, "Too much more?" he asks with a little joking surprise. "You don't party much, do ya? We call that a fufu drink back in the barracks. Have a shot of whiskey with me...no, you choose. I'll do the same shot you do." he chuckles.

Nemain shakes her head and sighs, "I can't drink whiskey. Could ba bad for the neighborhood. Drunken flingers are not a pretty sight. The wreckage afterwards is even worse." SWhe glances to Lise and blinks, "A doctor? What sort?"

Lise gives Nemain a smile, saying, "I was field medic. Before that, I was veterinarian." Her smile broadens and she says, "But what we said back when I was apprentice vet is that human doctors have it easy; they only have to work on one kind of animal." The smile fades slightly, then comes back as she glances over at Ash, adding, "And I have no intention of being dead doctor. Have survived thirty years, hope to live many more."

"Good on yah." Ash says to Lise and then finishes his drink and rises to his feet, tossing a few credits on the bar for the drinks he has consumed and a bit of a tip. The empty glass is placed beside them and then Ash turns and makes his way towards the door. He pauses and pulls out a key to fish his pistols out of the locking barrel before he spins them around and slips them into the formerly empty holsters at his hips. With that the quick-flex is gone, out the door and into the wilds of the Dregs.

Bartholemew give a shrug to the offer of a shot downing his own as it arrives chasing it with a good swig of beer. He settles himself back and listens to the conversation going on.

Nemain ohhs softly at that, her head canting slightly. "But then again there are the multitude of species that are humanoid. Some don't even consider Psy stalkers to be human at all, evne though they share many of the same parts as the rest."

Grinning, Lise says, "I would not want to be a head shrinker to Psi-stalker, no. But I have training and I have a ... my mother called it a 'knack'. It was what made me want to become veterinarian. When people and animals hurt, I hear it. It is useful for knowing what to do to make them not hurt."

Nemain ahhs softly at that. "I get much the same about machines and electronics as well." Finially she offers her hand. "Nemain Platt, techno-wizzie at your service."

Taking Nemain's hand, Lise squeezes it. "I am Lise Chaudette." Releasing her hand and pointing her thumb toward the door, she says, "That man, Ash, he was telling me that I should look for work in enhancements. I do not know my way around machine, though. My training did not include making cyborg. I have written note to hospital, asking for work, and one to owner of club, asking if she needs singer."

Nemain hmms softly at that, then shakes her head slightly. "I think your best bets might be to look into learning some about them. Else you might just get used up in the hospitals bordering hte Dregs."

Lise shakes her head in return, saying, "I asked for work in hospital near here, or in refugee camp. I do not look for easy work; if I wanted that, I would have stayed vet in Republic. I look to help, even if that means long days and hard work." Her bottle of water is raised to her lips and she sips it, shrugging slightly.

Nemain nods slightly as she sits facing Lise. A grin showing as she chuckles lightly, "I didn't mean hard work and long hours. I ment that you might get literally used up. Myself, I work over in the Draconic Secrets. Usually it's just pricing bids, but occationally it's actually solid work."

Sucking down his beer as the two ladies chat he finally speaks up, his buzz coming through, "I'm Bart." he says happily looking to Lise, "Ya know...if ya need a guinea pig to test any cyborg shiznit on...I'm your man. Plug what ever hardware into me and see what happens." he chuckles.

An attractive, alright gorgegous human man enters the alibi, drawing more than a few looks from both men and women. Dressed from head to toe in crimson and black he seems quite nonchalant with his hands lazily held within his pockets, making his way towards the bar.. His boots making a soft clicking sound upon the floor as he walks, lips pursing together to carry a tone.

Lise is sitting at the bar next to Nemain, holding a bottle of water in her hand. Giving Nemain a smile and a shrug, she says, "I am afraid that I know very little about techno-wizardry. My mother, she was witch and she taught me few things, but nothing that grand, no." With a grin to Bart, she says, "That is maybe not wise. I have never installed so much as a prosthetic thumb. Volunteering to be first under knife? My knife may be steady, but cyborgs are outside my experience." She pauses, before adding, "I did my thesis on juicer modification, though."

Nemain glances to Bart and winks. "Unless you wanted me to plug things into you. Could be interesting to see what juice one could stick into a body. There are several TW cybernetics out there."

Bartholemew shrugs with a cocky smile, "Sounds like fun. I ain't much of a wizard though." the shrug was meant for both of the womens response, "Hey...you only live once and if there is the possibility to become a better soldier...then so be it. Hoo rah!"

Liam takes a seat at the bar and removes his hat, casusally tossing it down onto the counter as he speaks in American English, ordering himself the equivalent of a Long Isalnd iced tea. Bringing both of his arms up to rest his elbows upon the counter he listens quietly to the conversations taking place around him, idly tapping his fingers against one another as his gaze moves about. THose jade and sapphire eyes of his passing from one individuals to the next.

Giving Bart a grin, Lise says, "Yes, that is the reason that I hear from people for wanting to become juicer and cyborg." She takes a sip of her water before continuing, "I would suggest that you go with her, though. Even if she has never built a cyborg before, she at least has more willingness to do so."

Nemain laughs softly and shakes her head slightly, "I'm not certain he'd want to be a test subject to that sort of play. Might leave him feeling a bit less than he was."

Bartholemew turns his head rocking a bit as the Militaristic styled dude finds his place at the bar. He gets a good look at the man, maybe trying to figure out where he is from, what branch, unit, whatever. Not having a clue he turns back to the ladies with a smirk to Nemain. "What you mean less than he was? If you do it right I should be more than he was." swigging down some beer.

Liam turns quietly and passes his gaze over the cyborg, or rather the man who is apparently one based off the conversation. His eyes moving about the utility belt and weapons present. Judging them accordingly then moving to his companions, remembering one from the previous night and her conversation in regards to Magical breast implants he moves his gaze towards the next. Taking in the mousey girl who finds herself dressed in satin and lace. A slight tilt of his head at the apparel of each of the three though he doesn't interject into the conversation.

Lise laughs, almost musically, raising her bottle of water to Nemain and saying, "I think she is expressing same worry that I am. That once there is cutting; once you have lost your arms to gain cybernetic implant, that is not the time to learn that the person attaching it has never done it before." She takes a sip of water, then says, "Surely there are shops here who specialise in that work, with doctors there who have done many many upgrades."

Nemain nods to that. "There are several. Or there is the whole dragon juicer procedure as well. That could get get quite interesting as well. Though, I'm not sure that chugging dragon blood would be fun."

Bartholemew shrugs sucking down his beer. "Hell killed one and lived, why not drink it's blood. Some cultures think thats all holy an shiznit." He slides the shot glass an empty beer bottle forward for the bartender to get to.

Liam cannot help but quip at this point, "Some cultures also drink their own urine because they believe it gives them an edge in battle.. Are you also going to partake in such a thing?" He laughs mirthfully to himself at the other's use of vocabulary, obviously abit more refined, or at least considering himself to be as he takes a soft sip of his drink.

Lise shrugs and turns to face the man who interjected. "My parents told me stories when I was a girl of the tribesmen of the plains, who bathed in the blood of their fallen comrades and enemies, so that the warrior spirit would enter them and they would gain the strength of the fallen." With a smile and a nod to Nemain, she says, "And what is more, it worked. Magic is magic and rites should not be discounted because we see them as suspect."

Nemain nods to that. "Rituals are often rather effective. But which plains were you talking about? Never got much in hte way of maps for the Euro areas."

Liam turns now to inquire aswell, "I too would like to know of these plains seeing as how I come from the West and have never heard such a thing." Turning to face lise with an inquisitive look, idly spinning the straw of his drink between his fingers.

Bartholemew looks over to new dude and smirks, a very cocky tone to his words "Been there done that. All apart of survival training. Think you could handle it?" Puffing up a bit all jock like. It's obvious he's had a good few.

Lise shakes her head, gesturing expansively with one hand. "My parents were not from here. They were captured on their home planet - place where there is not the technology that you see here, place where people fight with bow and sword, not with gun and armour - and brought here by slavers. When I was a girl, they would entertain me with stories of the lands of their youth, for there they were travellers as well."

Liam casually passes his gaze over Bart and says, "I'm willing to wager I can last longer in the wilds with a surival knfie and the clothes on my back than you, yes." He's quite nonchalant as he says this, no boistering or bravado to the other man as he turns back to his drink and to look ahead, "Not to mention the fact that I don't find myself saying shiznit every fourty to eighty words such as yourself, but I'd wager my training was better than yours."

Bartholemew grins, "I'll wager that. When ever your ready. But I have to go. Duty calls." drunkenly he heads out.