Currently the moon is in the waning No Moon phase (18% full).
Currently on this breezy and cold winter midafternoon in the general St.
Claire area, it is 34 degrees Fahrenheit (1.1 degrees Celsius). The wind is
coming from the east at 9.25 mph. The ground is wet. Skies are hazy with a
probable chance of precipitation.
It is currently 15:31 Pacific Time on Mon Feb 23 1998.
Pool Hall(#3490RJ)
Pool tables dominate the space of the hall, hardly yielding any space for the
motley crew of players chalking their sticks and eying the brandy bottle at
the bar lining one wall. The dust and scratches on all surfaces save the
green velvet lining the pool tables indicate this hall as skimping on
maintenance and cheap on cleaners. Its lack of flashy videogames and surplus
of toothless kibitzers underscores its appeal to the older crowd. No natural
sunlight is permitted into the hall, its lighting provided by bulbs swinging
from the ceiling.
A recent 'renovation' to the hall has caused many splinters and embdeed bullet
holes, adding much to the aged atmosphere. Ruddish stains, dark and ominous
even under the lights, refuse to be washed out of the floor. A dart board
brightens up the walls with its red-and-black scheme, and a moosehead looks
down on the proceedings.
A set of double doors, one locked, the other unlocked at the whims of the hall
manager, lead out to the street. Unobstructive doors behind the bar
undoubtedly lead to storerooms.
In through the door comes Sally. She glances around, checking out who's
already here as she meanders to the bar. Taking her time, she slips off her
coat before noticing Reggie. She chuckles as she watches him clean up one
mess or another, "Hey, you actually, like, working?"
Reggie brushes small pieces of broken glass from the counter onto his hand.
"What's it to you?" He shakes the glass into the wastebasket, and picks out
an annoying sliver that's working its way in, "Oh, hey. You here to start?"
The door opens again, not long after Sally's arrival, and in walks Salem, his
step brisk, his manner confident and self-assured.
"Start?" Sally asks, amused. "This's Jeff's night, I'm just here to hang out
for a bit." She jumps up onto one of the stools and bangs the bar with her
hand. "Bartender, get me a beer," she orders of the Uktena.
Salem spots the blonde kinswoman almost immediately, and with a crooked
half-grin, he makes his way over toward her, slipping up from behind.
Reggie, after working the sliver out and letting it fall where it may, sucks
on his injured finger spotting up with blood. In a cranky tone, he responds
with "Show me the money."
The kinswoman, having not the first clue of the Ronin approching her from
behind, grins at Reggie. "Take it out of this week's pay." She bangs the bar
again and says in a voice meant to carry, "C'mon, what kinda service is
this, anyway?"
"Nuh-uh", Reggie speaks around his finger, "No credit, no service." He crooks
an eyebrow at the potential customer behind Sally.
Salem comes right up behind Sally and rests a hand on her shoulder. "What goes
around comes around, Mustang."
Sally laughs, opening her mouth to respond to Reggie when the hand descends
onto her shoulder. She starts visibly, spinning around and placing one hand
on the bar to keep her quick movement from tumbling her off the stool.
However once she sees who it is, she smiles. "Hey you! You finally get out,
huh?"
Salem grins wolfishly, dark eyes gleaming as he leans against the bar.
"Parole," he says. "For good behavior."
Sally MacKay mmm hmms, smirking at Salem. "I'll believe it when I see it," and
with that she turns back towards Reggie and digs in her coat pocket for a
few bills. "You were getting me a beer, bartender?" she asks with quirked up
eyebrows.
"Likewise," says the Ronin, pulling out some cash. He turns back to
Sally, regarding her with frank eyes. "Been keeping out of trouble?"
Reggie watches the show of money, before dawdling his way to filling plastic
mugs of cheap beer and placing them on the counter in exchange for the money.
Sally MacKay tilts her head as she looks back at him, her mischief smile
remains in place on her lips, but the playfulness is a thinner veil across
her eyes and a glimpse of seriousness peeks out. "Been staying cool," she
says by way of answer and picks up her cup. She seems well aware that Reggie
is back within hearing range.
Salem's gaze flicks toward Reggie, holding the other man in his gaze for a
moment before his attention goes once more to Sally. "Mmm. Being a good
girl? You, Mustang?"
"Always," Sally answers in a tone that says otherwise. Cup in hand, she turns
to lean her back against the bar, looking out at the tables. "You okay?" she
asks before she takes another drink.
Salem reaches out to brush a lock of Sally's hair away from her forehead, his
eyes half-lidded like those of a sly cat. "Yes, actually."
Sally MacKay's smile softens as she tilts her head to look at him once his
hand is away. "That's cool. I talked to that Sisters chic- Oh!" Sally shifts
the cup to her other hand and reaches into her coat's pocket and draws out a
pair of black men's gloves. "Catch," she tosses them his way.
Salem catches the gloves, eyebrows lifting, though not at the gift. "Sisters?"
The kinswoman nods. "Yeah, whatshername, with the dark hair. The one with a
stick up her ass?" Sally gestures at the gloves, "I asked her to bring 'em
to you and she had a hissy-fit all over me."
Salem pockets the gloves with a crooked smirk. "I see."
Sally MacKay glances over to the door as it opens, then back to Salem. "Did I
tell you? I got traded."
Salem's eyebrow lifts, spocklike. "Traded?"
Reggie wraps his cut finger in a brown paper napkin as he loses any interest
in the customers beyond their money, and starts a phone call on a battered
phone.
Sally MacKay nods, her expression amused. "Yeah, which group I'm a kin person
for. First it was Fianna, remember? Well Ms. All-Hot-and-Bothered showed up
and told me that they were wrong and I'm really a 'Fury'." Sally leans in to
the Ronin, demonstrating her next statement, "Then she got all in my face
and asked me if I had a problem with that." Sally chuckles and sits back.
Salem grows a bit taut as the woman moves closer, and then smiles again. "Aah.
I didn't know you, mm, 'swung' that way, Mustang."
Sally MacKay pauses with the beer half-way raised to her mouth, looking at him
over it. "Huh?"
Salem smirks, curling his hand around his beer mug. "What, they didn't tell
you?"
Sally MacKay lowers her beer without drinking it. His expression only seeming
to egg her further on, she grins, "What? What?"
"The Furies," says Salem, with the air of one relishing bad news, "are
lesbians."
Sally MacKay looks at Salem, waiting for him to laugh at his own 'joke'. When
he doesn't, she does. "You're shitting me," she studies him, laughter about
to escape her again, "You're not serious."
Salem lifts his beer, eyebrows lifted over the glass. "I am very serious
indeed."
With another laugh, Sally mutters a, "Damn." She shakes her head, "If they
think I'm related to them, they have another thing coming." Looking over
towards Salem, "Is it really that hard to tell which group I'm from? Hell,
next week someone else will probably just show up and say I'm with them."
Reggie argues into the phone, before hanging up abruptly.
Salem takes a swallow of beer and considers her thoughtfully. He shrugs.
"Nearly impossible, though one could probably make some guesses as to what
you are /not/."
Salem adds, "You could be Fury, for all I know."
Sally MacKay scoffs and wacks his arm lightly at the added commend, "Am not."
Reggie and his phone call remain ignored.
Salem accepts the harmless blow with a tightening of his jaw and a sharp
smile. "Are you certain of that, Mustang?"
"Very," Sally answers in a tone that leaves no room for argument.
Salem smirks over his beer mug. "I dare you to tell them so."
Reggie leans on the counter, interrupting the conversation at will without
regard for timing or the topic. "Sally, can you do double shifts tomorrow?"
"I-" Sally glances over her shoulder as Reggie steps in. "Tomorrow? Mmm." She
faces forward and speaks to the Uktena after another sip, "Maybe. It'll cost
you, though. I'd have to change plans..." Only Salem might catch the flash
of a grin across her lips.
Reggie draws a hand to cut the air at the talk of 'cost'. "Fill in for Jeff.
He can do your shifts later when he's back."
Salem chuckles in dark amusment and takes a swallow of beer.
Sally MacKay shakes her head, glancing back without turning around. "No deal.
OT, plus I was meaning to ask for the weekend off next week. Get him to
cover it and we'll have a deal."
Reggie rummages in a drawer behind the counter. By the sound of all the
clanking, there's enough junk in the drawer to start a landfill. "Uh-huh."
He straightens up, shaking dust and some oil-based gooze off a laminated
piece of paper. "No OT. Or I'd have to pay him OT for the weekend." He
starts rummaging again, obtaining some duct tape, and tapes up a 'HELP
WANTED' sign on the wall.
Salem eyes the sign. "Wonder if that's a threat," he remarks to Sally.
Sally MacKay turns around and leans to peer at the sign. She takes it in a
different way than Salem. "Ooo, is he dead or something?" she asks, sounding
much too delighted for the question.
Reggie remarks drily, "Not--", and his voice drops ominously, "--yet."
Sally MacKay grins. "Cool." She reaches out to tap the sign with a finger, "So
how's he going to take my shifts if he's gone?"
Reggie continues his dry tone, "I'll mummify the corpse and prop it up. He
couldn't do a worse job."
Salem smiles faintly, finding some mild amusement in the exchange as he nurses
his beer.
Sally MacKay hmms thoughtfully, totally unable to keep from grinning. "So
you're gonna need me to fill in for a bunch of shifts till you find someone
else, huh? Probably help train them, too."
Reggie prods at his splinter-wound to see if it's stopped bleeding. "Or you
can keep training the corpse-to-be, if he comes back."
Sally grins, "Either way, I see lots of OT in my future." Setting her cup
down, she rubs her hands together while watching for Reggie's reaction.
Reggie's lips curl in a smirk at Sally's mercenariness.
Salem smiles in wry, sardonic approval.
Sally MacKay inclines her head towards Salem, her eyes remaining on Reggie.
"C'mon, we've got places to go, people to see and all that crap. We got a
deal or what?" Her smile is nothing if not confident.
Reggie returns to his tasks of looking bored, rather than reluctantly serving
customers, due to the mysterious lack of customers that'll go near Salem and
the counter.
Sally MacKay's eyebrows raise a notch as she waits on the Uktena's answer.
Reggie raises an eyebrow, and looks about. "What? Talking to me?" He inclines
his head. "Thought you had places to go, people to see, crap to give, so--"
Sally MacKay lets out a much put-upon sounding sigh. "Yeah, I do. And you want
me to work a double tomorrow." She's still smiling, however. "So we got a
deal? OT anytime I work a double, and next weekend off?"
Reggie shakes his head. "OT over forty."
Sally MacKay considers that, then counter-offers, "OT over forty, next weekend
off, and one weekend next month, my choice."
Salem finishes his beer and leans an elbow on the bar, observing Sally with
amusement.
Reggie pulls a sad face at Sally in mock-commiseration. "Poor Sally with no
weekends or Friday nights. Finally filling up that empty calendar? Sure,
that'll do."
"Empty calendar my ass." But Sally agrees to the deal, then pushes her empty
cup towards him, "But for tonight.. Get me another beer."
Reggie rubs his fingers together in a motion that would be crinkling paper
money if there was any held int eh fingers.
"I'll also take a refill," says Salem, dark eyes gleaming. To Sally, he says,
"Mustang, you have the soul of a jackal. I heartily approve."
"A jackal?" She asks, glancing over towards him as she digs out a few more
dollars and pushes them towards Reggie.
Salem fishes out a few bills as well, though in truth he's ignoring Reggie.
"It's a compliment."
Reggie looks inclined to make a remark on Salem's comment, before deciding
it's better to trade beer for money, and gives the two refills.
Sally MacKay shrugs and hops up onto her stool again. "If you say so." Her
fingers move restlessly over the bar's top as she waits for her refill.
Salem casts a glance about the nearly-empty pool hall. "Mf. What are you in
the mood for tonight, Mustang?"
Sally MacKay sips her fresh beer, then takes a longer pull. She gives the
question more consideration that it might usually merit. "You up for a club?
Anywhere where there's loud music and," she lifts her cup a bit.
Salem tilts his head as if considering something. "Mm, I think it's safe
enough. You dance, I'll watch." he smiles, rogueishly.
Sally MacKay nods, then glances down at her ever-watchless wrist. "What time
is it? Early still?" She nods in answer to her own question, "Too early, no
where'll be open yet." She drinks again.
Salem pushes up his sleeve, since he /does/ have a watch, and nods. "It's not
even six o'clock yet."
Sally MacKay shakes her head. "We got hours to kill, then." She finishes off
her drink before asking, "Want to get some food, or soemthing?"
"If you're buying," Salem counters.
Reggie wordlessly refills a basket of salty pretzels on the counter, offered
to make drinkers even thirstier.
Sally MacKay laughs at him, her first smile or the like since her bantering
with Reggie finished. "No way, Jose. I do believe it's your turn."
Salem leans against the bar. "/My/ turn, hmm? I suppose," he says, in a light,
bantering tone, "that I'm not hungry, then."
"Then," Sally glances back to make sure Reggie's still around before she cocks
her thumb at him, "you can stay here all night and hang out with him." After
confirming the Uktena's position, the kinswoman looks back to Salem and
reuses the same ever so confident smile on him.
Merria props the door open and sticks her head inside.
Reggie generically hangs about, serving the drinks, while spirits pass about.
Salem snorts. The rage is at low simmer tonight, sleeping uneasily, but
sleeping. He regards Sally with a challenging look and a half-crooked ghost
of a smile. "I distinctly remember that the last time we ate together, I
paid."
Merria spots Salem and Sally and grins - mostly to herself. She comes in,
letting the door close behind her, and wanders vaguely in their direction,
not particularly trying to be stealthy, but also not calling attention to
herself.
Sally MacKay hmms and taps her finger against her empty cup. "Yeah? Well it's
your turn again," Sally informs him, seated next to the Ronin at the counter.
Salem sighs, an exaggerated sound; he hasn't noticed Merria yet. "Jackal," he
says to Sally.
Sally MacKay shakes her head in false disappointment. "In less than an hour
you've called me a lesbian and a friggin' jackal. I think I need new
friends." Sally has not noticed the Gnawer yet, either.
Merria's eyes round at this last comment of Sally's, and she looks delighted.
She takes a seat somewhere not too far away, and stretches back in her
chair, listening.
"You haven't gone to bed with me yet," Salem retorts to the blonde. "Keen
evidence that you /do/ putt from the rough." His tone isn't serious, that
much is clear, but still, his joking has a sharp edge to it.
Merria mouthes the phrase 'putt from the rough,' in silent fascination.
"Well fuck you," Sally returns, trying hard not to laugh less it ruin her
attempt at appearing offended. She lifts her cup to her lips, only to find
its empty.
Salem smirks, something dark flickering behind his eyes. "Right here? Wouldn't
that get you in difficulties with your employer?"
Merria wrinkles her nose, apparently considering this a cheap shot. In a
minute, she'll produce a score card...
[Sally's player gets disconnected. After a few minutes of waiting for her...]
With Sally having vanished into the bathroom, or some such, Salem turns his
idle, unsmiling attention to the pool hall at large -- and, finally, he
notices Merria.
Merria looks up, surprised. "Salem!" she says, and stands up to go and join
the ronin at the counter.
Salem's eyebrows lift. "Good evening, Merria." The faint smile returns as he
puts a genteel facade over saturnine features. He lifts his beer glass to
her in salute.
Merria dimples, and scrambles up onto the seat next to Salem. "How's it goin'?"
Salem shrugs casually, letting the smile slip a notch and then quirk upwards,
self-satisfied and sardonic. "I taught the dog how to speak."
Merria brightens - if that's possible. "Lupe puppy?"
Salem nods, taking a sip of beer. "The same. Just one word, mind, but."
Merria leans on the bar. "What word?"
Salem sets his glass down and grins ferally. "'Clever.'"
Merria sits bolt upright, again, giggling. "Is--boy or girl?" she asks,
interrupting herself.
"Girl." Salem smirks. "Not very bright, however."
Merria grins. "Not clever?"
Salem glances around, but -- unsurprisingly -- there's nobody near him, not
close enough to eavesdrop. "The full name she's been given is 'Clever For
Food,' which does suit her, I admit."
Merria giggles again. "Better'n mine was. What was your cub name?"
Salem arches his eyebrows. "Wrath-of-Thunder."
Merria blinks. "As a /cub/?" she demands incredulously. "But that's, like, got
dignity!"
Salem shrugs. "It was the custom. Something to live up to, you see?"
Merria says, "Ah," and settles back. "I get it. That was somewhere in Europe?"
"Good guess," says the Ronin, fingers toying with the lip of his glass.
Merria grins. "S'a big place. Or so I hear. Never been closer'n the kitchen of
a french restaurant."
Salem snorts. "Big? America's much bigger."
Merria nods. "I saw that on a map. S'funny. I guess it's sort of like the
states end up being mini-countries, hunh? Except not quite. You like
America?"
Salem shrugs again, expression neutral. "It's less traditional, in the end.
More room to move."
Merria considers that, absent-mindedly winding one finger in her hair. "I
guess," she says at last, "it's hard to separate out what you think of a
place from what happened there, which makes things rough. And also, for a
while, bein' able to move musta been really important for you, and if it
isn't important, then where you stop, all that matters is what's /there/,
not how much room there is around you." She looks up. "You're gonna stop for
a bit, aren't you?"
Salem lets the small Gnawer's words flow over him like warm sea water. "Stop?"
Merria nods a little wistfully. "Gonna stay here for a bit?"
Salem smiles faintly, crookedly, and moves one shoulder in an off-handed
shrug. "I suppose."
Merria smiles, not her manic grin this time, but a smile of real contentment.
"Good."
Salem chuckles briefly. "I'm flattered."
Merria grins. "Good," she says again, and spins around experimentally on the
bar stool.
Salem glances at his watch. "Of course, I haven't yet been able to speak with
Malone."
Merria catches herself on the rim of the counter and peers up at Salem
dizzily. "Is that the Walker? Can you hack computers or anythin'?"
"No," says Salem, taking another swig of beer. "But I've gotten used to the
city."
Merria nods, shaking herself to get rid of the dizziness. "Yeah. I don't mind
woods 'n' stuff to visit, but..." She grins. "Who'll you try if they're
snobby at you? Do they have /all/ the tribes, here?"
Salem says, "So they tell me."
Merria shakes her head wonderingly. "Wow. Okay." She holds up her hand,
fingers splayed, and starts counting them off. "Not the Talons." She grins.
"Not the Fangs, not the Lords, not the Wendigos. Can't see the Ukies. Not
the furies. Gnawers as a very lastest resort." She grins at the older man,
sidelong, teasing. Her voice, through all of this, is low enough to pose no
threat to secruity.
[FTB]