Feb 17 21:50:04 109 PA - Side Conversations at th Bolt

From Chronicles

Feb 17 21:50:04 109 PA.

THE NUT AND BOLT

Bartholemew sits off at the end of the bar, a bottle sitting in front of him with a small glass with a sip of whiskey left in the bottom. This is one of the few days the soldier is casual, no armor, just the beat up duster and his small protective armaments. He's sitting sideways in his stool to face looking down the bar.

The door opens again, with a lot of people coming and going. In walks a guy obviously coming off of a shift somewhere. Coveralls, stained shirt, couple of small items hanging from a belt. A large industrial lunchbox dangles from his left hand. Thirty-something and blond, he hesitates wearily before making his way toward the bar, calling out for a bottle of one of the more popular - and harder - bottles of brew.

Bartholemew notices the factory worker entering, about as much as he notices the other mechanics and such coming and going. He sees him, but doesn't give him any thought, in this place he might as well be white noise on a radio frequency. The soldier fills his glass and takes a sip after corking the bottle of whiskey and setting it in its place.

The worker shambles up to the counter and coughs up the credits for the brew. "Thanks," comes a grunt with a clearly southwestern bit of twang. Not huge, just there. After chatting up a couple of guys around the area, he seems to amble on toward Bartholemew's stool, finding one of his own nearby. The bottle is popped open, and a significant swig taken. A long sigh. Marek W. of Pro-Tech asks, "So, whadda want to talk about?"

Bartholemew looks at the worker with a raised brow, and maybe a bit of cockiness to his expression, like what are you talking to me for? But that subsides as he remembers the other day, the look is different, but he catches on quickly, he hasn't drank that much yet actually, just one glass before this refill he has begun working on. "Stairs." answering the factory worker. "Making them go bye bye."

"Yeah. Stairs suck. Particularly the ones that you can only go down single-file," Marek says tiredly, eventually turning to look at Bartholemew. "I happen to know a set exactly like that, and just don't know what to do with 'em. I mean, really?" He holds his hands open, nearly spilling his bear. "Who puts in a spiral staircase for a room with an eight-foot ceiling?"

Bartholemew gives a shrug with a sip of his drink, "Ehhh, you know how those eccentric types are, want custom additions to show off to all their friends. I was thinking of changing it all though, maybe tear em out of there and put an elevator of sorts in instead. You know, for the handicap types."

"Maybe, sure. Rip it out real quick somehow before they know that you're sending 'em a bill," Marek says, waggling his already half-empty bottle. "'course, gettin' down's the easy part. You could grab a man with a wooden leg, push 'im down, and he'll get up and walk away. Fuck, you could do it like a midget clown car, couldn't ya?" He shakes his head and takes a brisk breath through his teeth. "Whoa! Gettin' up's harder, right?"

Bartholemew gives a laugh at the clown car, nodding just before he answers, "Well yeah, plenty of time to worry about that though. Anyways, I'm not much of the remodeling type, what do ya think we need to take care of a remodel like this?"

Marek turns his weary eyes to look at Bartholemew, though perhaps he's enjoying this conversation more than being in the fumes of Pro-Tech. Fumes that really are still coming off of his clothing in small amounts. "Well. Fusion block probably take it out, if you're into the overkill. Thing is though gotta decide on if you want the customer to be surprised with your renovation. Sometimes there are guys who can almost move through floors to do their work, and need someone else there to distract people so that their particular art remains mystery." He shrugs and almost spits. "You know those artisans, always mystery and intrigue. Practically like magic. One big noise of stairs going out, or smaller noises of people coming downstairs to help."

Bartholemew nods, "Well tell ya what, I'm good either way, I'll just be ready in case you think it's practical or not to remodel so drastically. I thought about a change to the front door too, to make it more secure. Put in a driveway right up to the door so we can unload all at once right there. I was also thinking vibro-wire to surround the driveway and front entrance. It's quickly deployed, and should cover plenty of area to make a perimeter."

"Your house suddenly going to be in a bad neighborhood or something?" Marek shakes his head and nearly finishes his beer. Then gives Bartholemew a gaze and motion of his head that suggests that changes to doors like that are totally unnecessary.

Bartholemew shrugs not really caring either way, "No problem, you're the expert when it comes to the handyman shit. I keep some stuff I would like to keep safe is all, there are a lot of vultures out there waitin to scoop up on your chickens. Never know where and when they might hit em."

"Oh? You're a farmer now?" Marek says with a chuckle. "Whatever, man. You know, it's good to have options, I'd bring 'em both to a job, if I didn't know the exact details. But chickens? Think maybe throwing up a bunch of razor wire'd bring more eyes on it than just leaving 'em in the pen. Leave a guy watching over 'em if you're worried. Two guys, three if you want. I hear that some farmers bring their own guys like that when they move into new field. Can't be that bad a place, unless you've heard of something special. Usually easy to scare off vultures."

The Nut and Bolt is as busy as ever for this time of night. Not special bands playing, just busy. The robot-leg bar is crowded, and near the center Bartholemew is sitting and talking to a factory worker with a nearly empty bottle of high-proof beer in his hand.

No special bands. But still music. Bella likes music. Even if she ain't big on techie gizmo stuff. She comes walkin in. Lookin round. 'N headin fer the leg bar? Why? Cause that's where alla booze is. Duh.

Bartholemew chuckles and nods, "I got me some chickens, yeah. You find that odd or sumthin? Even a soldier needs a hobby. I like eggs for breakfast." Finishing off the last in his glass, he lifts the bottle in front of him and pours himself another glass. Before corking it, he offers the factory worker a taste.

Marek turns from being rather obscure to still being Marek W. of Pro-Tech, but with more interesting things to talk about than farms and renovation. "I think that if something goes on so long that wire and barricades are necessary, we're probably fucked anyway." Still sounds like Marek, still looks like him. Just a different topic. One that could be easily ignored and overlooked in a busy bar.

Bella thinks even borin people can be good. Just takes a li'l ketchup. She pushes up to the bar. Waves at somebody for a beer. Wait. Chickens? Wire? Facked? That gets her lookin atta boys. Smirkin too. "Hiya."

Bartholemew raises his glass to Bella in greeting, giving a nod and smile along with. He continues his conversation with the factory worker though, "Yeah, you're probably right, just be a money pit at that point."

Marek gives Bella a look, up and down her unusual form. Finally, "Yo." He turns back to Bartholemew. "Getting down is the big problem. It's an obvious choke point that's probably going to be surveyed and rigged. No time to defuse anything, destroying them might be the best option. Short drop anyway." Genuine remains of toxic fumes from the construction of high-grade military armor are still coming off of Marek's clothing.

Bella grins at 'em both. "Havin fun boys?" Her beer shows up. She gulps some. Brows pop up.

Bartholemew gives a smile to Bella, "Course I am. Out looking for trouble?" he jokes back with her. "We're just chillin havin a few drinks talkin shop, still working on that building I told you about. My fortress so to speak. I think I told you about it, I was lookin to grab up a cheap farm. If not, I was plannin to, thought you'd be able to help do some negotiations."

"Huh?" Bella blinks. Twice. "Didn't tell me 'bout no buildin. 'N whatcha want me ta be negotiatin fer? Know I'm good't talkin 'n shit. But why me?"

The factory worker just finishes his bottle and waves another beer over, waiting to see where the other conversation's going to go. Marek just looks between the other two.

Bartholemew chuckles, "Guess I didn't bring it up yet. I thought I did a long time ago, I wanna get outta my apartment and into a real place of my own, the company's own, like a warehouse or something. You sure I didn't ever mention this ever before? Anyways, out of the two people I would ask to help out, you seemed the better choice. Let's just say you have a milder temperament than the other candidate."

Marek grumbles, "You gotta company? Or you gotta warehouse but you're gonna start a company?"

Bella smirks. "Other one juiced up 'r somethin? Whatcha need me fer anyways?" Then she points at Marek. Smirks more. "Ya gotta comp'ny. It's on yer shirt ain't it?"

Bartholemew nods to the factory worker, "Yeah, well sorta, a lot of it is still in the works. I'm looking for a home base type set up, preferably outside of town. Land is expensive round here though, but seems to get cheaper outside a town." Answering his questions first before looking to Bella to answer her, "I don't know, I thought a female presence would put a sense of ease on the negotiations cause an armed merc can be intimidating for some people."

"Mmm. Maybe you need a chick and a guy who isn't intimidating," Marek says before taking another swish of beer.

"Oh!" Bella nods a coupla times at Bart. Now her smirkin turns ta grinnin. "That's a good idea. 'N if they say no I can rip off their arms 'n beat 'em with 'em. Til they say yes." She can be a good megotiator. Maybe? Bella turns her grinnin at Marek. "Since we're talkin bout that. Ever find that stubborn dumb guy 't maybe needs 'is legs broke?"

Bartholemew chuckles at the interesting negotiation technique of Bella's, "Yeah, well maybe do it with a smile an all, thank him for his time. Can't be rude or anything, just not professional." as Bella turns to the worker he takes the time to enjoy a bit of his whiskey.

Marek shakes his head. "Needs 'is legs broke? Nope. Found a good fella, though. Seemed bright enough. Maybe he'd talk to a pretty girl like you." He waves his bottle. "Buy ya a beer?" Bartholemew receives a slightly interested expression. "Yeah, I guess you go outside the walls where they don't have to protect you, gets cheaper, right?"

Bella grins more. "Oh. I'll be smilin fer that." Then she goes back to curious. Perks up at the normal guy. "Really? Where at?"

Bartholemew nods to the laborer, "Yup, that’s about it." keeping it short with Bella questioning about a different topic. Also lets him enjoy sipping on his whiskey.

"Huh?" Marek seems to be momentarily startled at being put on the spot before realizing that it wasn't directed his way. "Oh. I know a guy," he says, directing a finger in Bartholemew's direction. "Kinda like a merc, but with lotsa talkin'. Help out, if ya care at all." He glances at Bella, perhaps sizing up her beauty. "Eh," is his summary. "You know 'bout the 'Dregs?"

"Course I do. Know lotsa stuff." Bella sucks down s'more beer. "'N we was kinda talkin bout 'em th'other night. I think."

Bartholemew gives Marek a nod, "Sure thing, what's the guy's name? Maybe I heard of him. Always looking for free advice, even bad advice is good when its free. Don't feel guilty bout throwin it away," commenting with a light chuckle.

"Dunno his name. Short guy, older guy. Old guy. Maybe not hard to find, y'know." He looks back to Bella, sums her up again, then orders her a beer - one of the high-quality low-brow brews. "Settle a bet. You think if somebody busted down a shop, anyone'd care enough to make a big deal about it while the guys were still there?"

Bella takes the beer. Even if she's still gotta li'l lefta hers. Like Bart said. Free stuff's always good. "Dunno. Maybe. Maybe not. How many people like the shop? 'R the people runnin it?"

Bartholemew grins sipping on his whiskey, letting Marek elaborate on that thought.

"Uh. Like, maybe ten, eleven? Dunno. Big 'nough. People still running it?" Marek can only offer a shrug. "Hell, I dunno. What I asked. Would anyone care if they broke in. Don't matter if they win 'r not."

"Dunno." Bella shrugs. "But bettin not. Most people don't care bout nothin. Less it's 'emselfs." Then she smirks. "'N I know a old guy like that. Most times he's an old guy anyways. Likes ta dress up sometimes." Goes alla way ta grinnin. Drinks more beer. "Thinkin I'm gonna see 'im inna skirt next time."

Marek just grunts and drinks. "Yeah, I win the bet. Nobody gives a damn." He eyes Bella, "Maybe you should shorten up your own skirt, have another guy buy you a drink."

Bartholemew chuckles giving Marek a sharp nod, "Yeah yeah, alright, you win," then slides his bottle over to Bella, "Here ya go, I gotta be gittin anyways. Was nice meetin ya man, I'll prolly see you around sometime. You too Bella, see ya 'round, I'll catch up with ya on that beatin guys with their own limbs bit." standing up, he tosses a small tip out on the bar.

Bella grins. "Guess I won too." She's got almost three beers now. "See ya. I'll get some practicin in. Just fer ya." She winks at him. Then Marek too. "Done that a coupla times too."

Marek's interest is caught by the suggestion of shorter skirts. "Mmm?" Then, to the departing Bartholemew, "Oh, yeah. I'm at Pro-Tech from two to ten. Maybe grab me there, if ya really wanna see a guy."

Bartholemew gives one last nod to both before he heads on out, slamming the last little bit of whiskey in his glass, the remainder of the bottle given to Bella to enjoy for the rest of the evening.

"Visit at work?" Bella smirks. "Don't wanna do that. Maybe get ya in trouble." She kills off one beer. "So. How's work goin anyway? Still lookin fer more help? 'R ya gotta 'nuff yet?"

Now that Bartholemew has departed, Marek looks directly at Bella as if somehow he actually knows her... "You do know that I actually work here at Pro-Tech, right?" He pats his name tag. "Wrong name, but same shifts. As for the help? Any help is good help. You have any ideas?"

He knows her. She knows he knows her. Figgers he knows she knows he knows her too. "Oh. Didn't really know that. Thought it was just li'l stuff 'ere 'n there." A li'l shrug. "Got ideas. But already know ya don't like 'em."

Marek chuckles. "Oh, unless it's something I've already heard and shot down, try 'em out. Make yourself comfortable. Worst thing that can happen is find it so stupid that I pay one of these guys to shoot me in the face." His tongue is stuck out, but he seems to mean it, inviting the thoughts.

"Ya already did." Bella points at 'im. "'N ain't wantin nobody shootin ya. Then I can't break yer legs." A wink 'n more beer goes 'way.

The factory worker frowns. "I guess I'm forgetting. But if you say I already thought about them?" Marek shrugs. "I guess. But I'm not makin' anybody do anything. Not tellin' 'em to do something stupid. Not holdin' anything back that I know that they don't know." He waggles his beer in Bella's direction - then discovers his bottle is empty. He calls for a new one, then goes back to waggling it. "Can't blame me for anything they choose to do with it."

Bella nods. "Got that right. People're stupid. Even if ya give 'em smarter ways ta be stupid. 'R maybe they're stupider at bein smarter?" A new shrug. "Guess all 't makes it one way 'r th'other's who wins."

Marek raises a brow at the intense circular logic that makes sense in a strange way. "What do you think's going to happen when it's over? You know, if it works."

"If it works?" Bella eyes her new empty. "Won't be no more vampires 'round I guess. Least not fer awhile." She puts the bottle down. "But ain't thinkin it's gonna work. So just gonna be more dead people."

The man frowns at the estimation of success. Marek asks, "What is it that I'm missing that's got the whole thing doomed to failure?" He looks into his bottle, then sets it down, stationary on the counter.

Bella shrugs. "Maybe ain't missin nothin. Maybe ev'rythin's all perfect. Maybe just me." She smirks. "Guess it don't matter which way it goes. I'm losin anyways."

The last statement really gets Marek's attention. "How do you figure you'll lose either way? I mean, I get the, ah... soda fountain, if it works. What do you lose if it doesn't?"

"Kinda tied inta both sidesa shit." Bella shrugs. "It works 'n maybe people don't stop 't just them. Maybe I'm next. If it don't work." She smirks. "Ain't gonna be havin fun talks like this no more." "It'll work," Marek says confidently. "And people'll stop. They already don't care. Just some people into the big problem. It'll go away, and go right back to being exactly what it was before. The more things change, the more they stay the same. One big bad guy's gone, it'll take a while before another one comes along, and I don't think that any of them are likely to be like the one right now. She's just weird."

Bella sighs. "Figger yer right there." She leaves the last beer there. Stands up. "Any more show up ain't gonna be like her. Maybe that's good. Maybe not." A shrug. "Guess we find out. If we're still up 'n walkin round later.' Now Bella's turnin ta head off. "Have fun. Marek."

The worker chooses to stay at his seat, picking up his beer again. Marek chooses to use it as a waving mechanism. "Yeah, good to meetcha. Wear a shorter skirt, maybe some guy'll see you around a nicer club one of these nights." He then goes back to talking to other strangers at the bar, eventually leaving at a time as yet to be determined.