Pool Hall Chat

[hazlogs]

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]