Burnt Magna Open Ic, Cool your feet, have a drink. Options

[lodestar]

The large figure stood motionless in the drizzle and mist, the muted electronic bleep barely audible in the sound of running water in the street. The cheap phone had rung just once before he hung it up. That was all it was needed, a number appeared somewhere on a vid phone he imagined. No face, no message, only th data of a missed incoming call. The job was done. Shortly, if all went well, more data would be transferred, electronic nuyen to an orbital account. The figure shifts, pulling cheap electric blue device from the large pocket, the phone small in his hand. The phone a hip teenage kid might buy or steal to gossip with friends, or to ask mom for a ride. He dropped the phone to the concrete and ground it to plastic fragments under a large kevlar shanked boot. Looking up, adjusting his old fedora, he surveyed the empty street. Four blocks away from touristville, and five from the last appropriated Americar, He decided it was time for a drink.

He looked up at the ancient lighted sign. Tranclucent plexiplast scorched by an unknown flame, proclaimed Magna Computer Solutions alongside another survivor marking the location of Redmond Dental Clinic . The only remanants of what used to be the original purpose of this now abandoned office complex. plastic shards of signs identifying the other former residents crunched underfoot as he approached the "Burnt Magna" sign, and the only remaining glass door beneath, greyed chipboard alternating with corrugated fibreglass lining the walls to the entryway. Through the spiderweb of safetyglass was the only sign of life this night, gregarious blue and pink ebbing neon boasting this place "open"

He had only been to the Burnt Magna once before. It was a neutral place where not even the sprawl gangers would cause a ruckus. It seemed like a good place now, he needed to get off his feet for a bit, relax - as much as he ever could - and maybe find a lead on his next line of work.

Except for the bartender idly chatting with the server over the events unfolding on the tridset in the corner the place was empty. Both pause to regard the new entrance and went back to the dquiet discussion, their voices matching the volume of the subdued trid. It was probably too late for the usual patrons, and the weather turned away any adventurers from touristville. But that was alright, he only needed a dry place to sit and a drink. Pulling the large gloves from his hands, large flat fingers folded them and stuffed them into a convinient pocket in his tent of a trenchcoat. Most observers would peg him of robustus stock, or maybe a large human, only the most trained might notice the patchwork of Russian bioplast which coverd the backs of his hands, indeed most of his body. Unconsiously brushing nonexistant dirt from his hands, he makes his way to a booth in the corner, close to the rear exit. When the server makes her way to his place out of the direct light of the bioluminecent strips stapled at intervals to the ceiling, He peer up at her through thick inset lenses and orders vodka. Stainless steel false teeth form the request in thickly accented english.

The patchwork hands rest on scratched speckled formica. He waits for his drink.

[The_Sarge]

I just hate it, when this happens...

Murphy looked down on his bike. It's motor still hot and causing the raindrops to vaporize as they touch it. Once, he would call it his trusty Viking. Now? Scratch the T. I'm to nostalgic for this job... It will kill me one day down from here.

He took of his helmet and shook his head, his long dreadlocks swirling through the rain like monowhips through silk. Damn. Hope the hairshop has it's regular hours tomorrow. I'll need it badly.

Let's see... Bike's down. Cellphone shot to pieces. A job only a nanometer away from being a total disaster. No money 'till tuesday. Ergo, I need a drink.

The orc looked down on him and grinned, his tusks giving him a somewhat brutal look. But his eyes just showed honest bemusement. I should have taken the duster with me. This jacket does shit to keep me warm right now. So... Where can I go before some psycho tries to try it's luck here?

Casually the brown eyes scan the alley while a big hand screens them from the water which runs down his face like a miniature versions of the niagara falls. It just takes a few seconds...

Bingo! Venus must be smilin' at me again. Thank you, lady. As he makes his way towards Burnt Magna, Murphy throws a smile and a salute towards heaven...

. . .

The door opens. Casually, not making any fast moves an orc enters the bar.
A broad, friendly smile on his face and a biker's helm under his arm.

"Ah! Civilization, finally. If it's available I would like a strong coffee and a good whiskey. This should get a long night..." Still smiling Murphy scans the room and notices a figure sitting on a far away table.

His looks turns into friendly curiosity as he makes a questioning gesture towards the lonely patron...

[lodestar]

A large booted foot pushes out the chair across from him, An equally large hand gestures to the empty chair across from him. More work? Maybe. Did this character know? It mattered not, the last job was done. As the stranger approached from the doorway, he raised the plastic tumbler with a nod in greeting. He doesn't smile, consious not to reveal the two stainless stubs that had replaced his tusks.

"Sit. Have drink. On me."

He carefully watches the stranger, another refugee from the weather, by the looks, another worker in the "business". "Is good to get out of the rain, No?"

[The_Sarge]

Murphy sits down with a broad grin. "Thanks mate!"

He frees himself from the leather jacket and reveals a rainsoaked hawaii-shirt. He looks at, and treis to wrangle some water out of it, not with very much effect. "Damn! I need to get a new jacket. This one is far too old to protect even from water! What will it do against bullets?!" He shudders and takes a sip from the drink, which the server put in front of him. "Whoa... Strong stuff here."

He eyes his companion for this night and quickly starts to look pretty concerned.

"Excuse me! I just don't know where my manners went... Must be this fuc... /Sorry./ Rain." Or the bullet my phone took instead of my heart some minutes ago... "Yeah... It's good to be in the dry now. After too much bad stuff happening." He smiles dryly. "But life goes on. Ain't that what they always say? The next round, by the way, is on me." With these words he puts the glass up in the air and gives himself a good shot.

After that he puts it down, sits back in his chair and smiles into the air for a few seconds. Big guy... Looks serious. What does he do here on such a godforsaken time?

"Hey... What takes you here? I had some problems with my phone and my bike. So I'll get the night over with here and get my lazy black ass home next morning. Hadn't thought about having the luck to find someone to chat with."

Murphy leans back and looks at the big man with a friendly smile...

[lodestar]

"Done work for day, stop in for drink. Its a long walk, and I have the time."

He shrugs, Shifting beneath the heavy damp coat. A swish of the clear drink in the plastic tumbler. He sets the glass down, plucks the hat off his head and rubs his bald pate with his large flat fingers tracing the irregular patterns of scar and bioplast. He replaces the old hat with a comfortable plop on his head. Extending a hand. "Boris."

[The_Sarge]

Murphy takes the hand and grips it firmly. "Murphy. That's a... Handle, you could say. Some people say I'm jinxed. Some say I'm a lucky bastard. I personally think that the gods jsut like to mess up my life and business." he states with a sly grin.

"Boris..." Murphy seems to taste this name like other people would a good wine, "You from here? Me, I'm a second generation bastard. Some hawaiian, jamaican, anglo and german blood in my veins. Something like a stray-dog." he pauses with a slight smile. "Which I must admit fits my description pretty close..."

"Murphy. Stray-dog and gun for hire. Weridness magnet as a way of live. . . . Thath would make a good card." this last sentence came out with a sigh, as if he had to swallow some hard truth...

[lodestar]

"Boris" pauses, "It is my... handle as you say. And no I am not from this city of... Seattle..." The words are formed with some difficulty. A combination of poor dental work and the difficulties of a non native speaker. He inwardly winces at his ineptitude. "But enough of my... story, It is long and ...unexciting. You, though have good story to tell, No?"

He gestures at the bullet holes in his drinking friend's jacket. "That is interesting, I thinks it have good story." For "Boris" there was for awhile time to pass.

[MrSandman666]

He hardly notices the rain as he drives down the streets on his Suzuki Aurora, which is dangerously well in shape for this kind of area. Lost in thoughts Ohanzee idly dodges the potholes in the street that keep him from driving as fast as he would like. He didn't know why but for some reason the old, scorched sign reading "Burnt Magna" caught his attention. Ohanzee was always someone who listened to his feelings so he decided, to his own surprise, to make a stop and take a drink at this... bar? He had the time anyways and was in the mood for some distraction. Who knows... These dirty bars in the barrens have a reputation of being... interesting, at the least. And even if this would turn out to be a bad idea, what could possibly make this day any worse?

Ohanzee slowed his bike to a halt right in front of the bar. He got of the Aurora and activated the alarms. Who the hell would steal a bike in this kind of wheather anyways...?, he thought.
Taking one last step around he turns to walk to the bar.

The tall Amerindian stands in the door for a while as his dark eyes scan the room, water dripping from his long, black coat, its wet and artfully decorated leather gleaming in the dim lights of the bar. His long black hair is tied together in a pony tail and, of course, also dripping wet. Finaly, after a moment of silence, he calmly walks over to the bar, unbuttoning his coat on the way.
"Give me the best scotch you have." Ohanzee leans on the bar until the bar tender gets him his drink without a word. He frowns at the cheap plastic glass it's served in but pays. Well, what was I expecting. I'd be surprised if this even is any scotch at all
He takes the drink and turns around with a sigh, still leaning against the bar. His eyes roaming the room, examining the other visitors once more as he decides what to do next.
He takes a sip from the glass in his hand. Only his politeness prevents him from shuddering. Damn, this isn't even real whiskey! But as the warmth of the sythohol crept into his body he already starts to feel a little less hostile to the clear, brown-golden liquid in the plasitc glass.

[The_Sarge]

Murphy eyes Boris with a slightly detached look on his face, but after a few milliseconds his smile returns. "A Story, huh? Well... Ok. You'll get my story for these holes. But in exchange you tell me where you come from, 'kay?"

The weird Orc takes his last sip of Vodka and puts the glass down gently.
He pushes his chair away and puts his legs on the table, looking pretty comfortable with the current situation. [enter Amerindian] With a wink he looks at Boris. "Another quest... Let's see what brought him to this little place..." he silently states.

"A good story needs a good mood, so please excuse the rudeness for the moment. Hmm... Where do I begin? Ah! Yes. Let's start with the good part. You see, I'm kind of a private eye. I get paid by people to watch out for their assets. Or loved ones. Without them knowing it." he pauses... "That's what I keep saying myself, anyway. Sometimes, people hire me to do other things. Bad things. Without telling me this little, important part. Spying. Stalking. That's what happened today."

"Someone, let's call him Mr.Johnson for now, hired me to watch out for his daughter. He had some serious worries, let me tell you that! Sweet thing she was, too. Gave me a holo-pic. 21. Sapiens Nobilis. With the prettiest, deeply green, eyes you've ever seen my friend! . . . But I digress.

So, he was worried, 'cause he heard that she was hanging out with the wrong people. Junkies, gangers and all that jazz. But, alas, she's 21. So he can't make her any rules anymore.

But he wanted her to be safe. So he hired me. Gave me a pic, her name and his number. I should call if I find her and tell him if she's allright, and if someone suspicious is around her.

So I put out my tentacles. Asked around some bars and clubs and showed the pic to some kids hanging around downtown, near some night-clubs.

Why I did that? Well... That face you don't forget that easily Mr., I swear by the heavens! . . . And I was right. After only two hours of snooping around whole goddamn Seattle a buddy of mine called me.

She was in a club called 'Atlantean Flower'. Jazz, Blues some Funk and coktails. Damn! Such a sweetie coupled with such a taste! I could've fallen for her just there...

But I had a job to do. Damn integrity...

I drove there. I went inside. I found her, and called her father. He was overjoied and told me, that I could leave now. The payment was already done. That... Made me stop.

He nearly insisted that I leave. Hmm...

So I call a buddy of mine. A 'designated driver' you may say. 'Twitch? Be at the 'Atlentean Flower' right now!' I called at him through my cellphone and cut off the line. I trust him. I knew he would be there.

So I waited. Sipped some Ipanemas, listened to some Jazz and overheared little sweethearts conversations.

Such a sweetie coupled with such a taste and with a personality to boot.

I was done... And so was the party, as some 30minutes later thugs started to enter the club. Why I knew they were thugs? Because I knew them. They belonged to a small Mafia cell in the area. 'Damn...' I thought. 'Damned Damn!' I though, as I noticed that they made their way towards little Melissa. That's her name, by the way...

The shit was about to hit the fan. I could nearly smell it. Had to react real quick.

So there I went... *sigh* Run towards the little lady, draw my gun, shoot a round in the ceiling and grab her in the ensuing chaos.

Not silent, not stylish, but damn efficient. She didn't know what hit her, until we were through the backdoor.

'Who the hell are you?! Let me alone you damn bastard!' You know... The usual stuf when someone thinks she's being abducted.

I don't listen. I scan the parking lot for Twitch, and... He's there. With his trusty over-powered van. 'Open the door you lazy-ass! You've got a delivery to do! Payment as usual.' I yell. It works.

The side-hatch opens and I throw the little lady inside. Without giving her a chance to react I just tell her 'Look... Sorry for all the action, but you're in danger! Tell this guy here where you live and he brings you there faster then you can yell NOT SO FAAAST!. After that call the Star or the Knights or whatever and tell them that someone's after you. Now... Move it Twitch!'

I shut the hatch, turn around to get to my bike and in this damn instant a bullet hits me right in the heart. It was a damn fast bullet. It hurt like hell. Still does, dammnit! But my jacket held it. . . . Well... My jacket and my cellphone which was smashed at moment of impact.

I loose no time, jump to the ground and crouch to my bike. Get on it, and hit the road as fast as I can! No looking back, no planning in advance. Just away from those thugs, and hoping that it was too dark and quick for them to see my face.

So I ride through the rain, and than... Suddenly my stupid, rusted bike brakes down.

Well... You know the story from there.

And, that's why they call me Murphy."

After telling the last sentence, Murphy takes a big breath and sits down normally again. He shakes his head and outs a silent laughter. As if he remembered a joke only he understands...

[MrSandman666]

Since the place is rather empty, except for the personnel and the two other guests in the back of the location Ohanzee decides to get some company. Something he wouldn't usually do, but he was here to get some distraction anyways. Something to keep him from thinking... Even though these people generally aren't the kind of people he would usually hang out with.
So he downed the rest of the so-called whiskey in one big swallow (also something he wouldn't usually do) and orders another one. Upon receiving it he pays again and casually walks over to the table with the two other customers. As he comes closer and gets a closer look at the two he already starts to regret it his decision. But it was already made and it wouldn't look good if he turned around now. And maybe it would be worth it to overcome his inhibitions for once. After all, there has to be a reason why he felt compelled to enter this place, as his feelings haven't failed him often before.

Ohanzee steps up to the table as the Orc who calls himself Murphy finishes his tale, which Ohanzee has been overhearing since the beginning.
"Nice story. Mind if I join you, gentlemen?"

[The_Sarge]

"Mind?! Hell, go on and take a seat!"

Murphy pulls back a chair and points at it with a big smile.
After that he turns to Boris.

"I said the next round was on me, didn't I? I keep what I say." with a big grin the orc walks to the bar and orders a round for the table. "Just let them voice their wishes. I'll pay. Prepear a black-tea for me please. Hot and some sugar..."

After getting back to the table Murphy leans back in his chair.

"Story? More of a bad joke... But so were the last few of my jobs. I think I should change my lucky shirt once in a while." after noticing the slightly disturbed looks (which his companions surely show after imagining an orc who doesen't change his shirt regulary...) he cracks a broad smile. "Just joking... . . . With the shirt anyway." *deep sigh*

"So, Mr. New. What brings you to this late party of strangers?" he asks wit a curious look on his face, and quickly turns to Boris, to add: "I haven't forgotten you, my friend. Still would like to know where you're from."

[MrSandman666]

A faint smile appears on the Amerindians face but it vanishes about as fast as it appeared. He accepts the offer and sits down on the chair offered to him, placing his still filled glass of whiskey on the table in front of him. He leans back in the chair and rests his hands on the table. This position is nothing what most people would call relaxed but Ohanzee seems to be rather comfortable.

After sitting there for a short moment in silence, staring at his glass he noticably changes, as if remembering something or waking up from some dream. He looks directly at Murphy: "What takes me here? Fate, I guess. I was just in the area doing some - business... This is not the kind of venue I usually frequent, as you might already have guessed, but I thought it might be a good idea to have a change for once. I thought that this might be a nice place for some distraction. I'm actually surprised how empty this place is. Must be the weather..."

[The_Sarge]

Murphy nods his head in slight agreement. "The weather and the time. Do you notice, how we always curse these two? 'It's too hot!', 'Damn, no time again...', 'It's to cold!", 'I wish I could turn back time.', 'The humidity is killing me...', 'They grow up so fast...' . . . It is hard to find someone who just stands there in the rain and enjoys it. Or someone who accepts a perfect moment as that what it is, and just absorbs the flow... Why are people always complaining? It makes no sense to me..."

As he shakes his head, a look of nostalgia appears on Murphy's eyes. He goes on somewhat quiter "Now, I too am cursing time. I miss... My former life. My wife. My students. . . . My Sapiens Sapiens body." he looks up and looks Boris and the Amerindian square in the eyes. "But who am I to complain? Things happen. You have to learn to go and to live with it." a smile reenters his face. " And as you said, stranger... 'it might be a good idea to have a change for once'."

With that he starts to slowly drink his still damping tea...

[Blitz]

:: A huge form suddenly blocks the entrance to the bar and pauses momentarily. The silhouette is obviously that of a Troll as two large horns sweep back and down along the head, neck and back of the large figure. ::

:: With heavy footfalls from immense steel toed boots, the figure comes into the light enough to see the face of a relatively young troll. A long, real leather trench hangs loosely on her shoulders, giving you the sense that a fraggin' heard of cows had to give their skins for such a garment. ::

:: Despite her daunting presence, her face wears what you think might be a smile, though the large steel tipped tusks make it hard to be sure. Glancing around, she sees what looks to be some sort of operating team in the rear corner as the only paying occupants. Hesitating for a moment, she figures if there was business about to go down, then her presence here could pose an issue. Best just make sure everything is kosher. ::

:: Heading to the bar, she forgoes the flimsy barstools and just places her beefy hands on the counter. ::

"Beer would be nice....if the bar's open that is..."

:: She adds a slight head nod in the direction of the group in the rear to indicate her meaning. When the bartender slides over a pint, she takes it to mean that whatever business they are conducting will not interfere with the business at the bar. ::

:: After popping the tiny glass of beer like a shot, she carefully removes the leather jacket and shakes out the majority of the water off before looking for a table who's chairs look sturdy enough for her frame. Spotting one with two benches, she moves one bench parallel to the other and takes her seat. The groan of the wood only lasts a moment before silencing itself as she carefully drapes the coat at her side. ::

[Buddha72]

:: A small thin silhouette fills the doorway, seeming smaller for having followed the troll. The woman appears to be dressed baggy jeans with sneakers that have at least a 5 inch sole. She has a t-shirt over a thermal. The t-shirt has a cartoon face with horns and multi-colored hair and a logo that reads "Looking Glass". She has multiple chains going from her belt hoops to what you assume is her wallet. She has magenta hair with a liberal dose of black streaks in a short bob cut. As she steps into the dim lighting of the bar you are struck by the alabaster color of her skin............wait, make that fine fur and a red abstract tattoo on the left side of her face, it looks techno-mystic in flavor.::

"Let's go driving.......you said. It's not raining that hard......you said. How bad can it get.......you said."

:: She mutters as she grabs a stool next to the troll. Now you can see her backpack. It has a bright neon pink teddy bear stitched to it, like some demented Japanese school girl from hell. Written on the back with metallic marker is the plea "SAVE ME!!".::

"One cola please." She flashes the bartender a million watt smile.

"So this place blows. Do you think the guys in the corner are going to eat us or something? Where are we anyway?" She asks the troll while rummaging though her wallet to pay for the drink.

[MrSandman666]

The Amerindian sighs and looks down at his drink: "Oh how right you are... things happen and there's not a thing we can do about it except for going on with life." Something in his tone suggests that this statement is backed by some personal experience.
"When you've been through certain things in your life I guess you learn to value life. And time. And many other things. Looks like it has to be like that. You never know what you have until you lost it. Or almost lost it. Life is a great thing. It's the greatest thing there is. And people take it for granted. Even though it's the most fragile thing we have. And the most valuable at the same time. People go on curisng about this and that and don't even realize how damn lucky they are. Heh, look at that. Now I'm the one who's bickering. Must be contagious, ne?"
After having said that, he takes another sip and frowns a little as he swallows the shimmering liquid.
Enter: The Two Ladies
Ohanzee goes quiet for a while and looks at his now empty glass. He then takes it in his hand and knocks on the table with it, in order to get the bartender to look. Raising the empty glass to signal the wish for another one.
"I usually don't do this but I somehow have a tendency to break old habbits. I guess it's only fair to tell you that I go by the name Ohanzee but if that's too complicated you might as well call me John."

[Blitz]

:: Watching her chaotic little friend dig, she decides to let her continue her fruitless searching of the purse that Olga knows damn well is empty as the bartenders personality. Call it payback for the sarcastic ramblings made as she followed Olga into the bar. ::

"How the hell was I to know how much this fraggin city rains. No wonder the Cavern's Waterfalls never cease. Bloody weather....if I have to take this damn jacket in for repair again there WILL be hell to pay! Then again...I wont be able to pay hell since I seem to support YOU."

:: With that, she tosses her credstick to the tender for him to charge the drinks. ::

"Besides, I needed a drink anyway."

:: Raising her voice, she calls over to the bar. ::

"Bring me a pitcher...those shot glasses you call pints just don't seem to last."

[Buddha72]

:: Iblis smiles endearingly at Olga, eyelashes batting at light speed.::

"Add it to my tab. The coat's fine, just a little wet. It may smell a little more now but you hardly notice in the general fragrance of the city."

:: Iblis swings her back pack around and opens the main compartment and fishes out a small towel. She begins to dry her hair, her elven heritage becomes obvious as her delicate ears are clear to see.::

"Got to love living out of a bag. Home is always so close with all it's perks. So are we going to hang here till the sky's clear? I personally could do without another rinse cycle. I don't think my girly unmentionables can take two soakings in a day, they might get confused and thinks it's Saturday night."

:: She stuffs the towel back into the pack and takes a drink of her cola. She spins around on her stool and gives the other group of patrons a look over.::

"So are we going to make friendly or do the "I am a troll and no one understands me" moody thing?"

:: Her eyes sparkle with genuine warmth for her large friend.::

[Blitz]

:: She snorts at that. ::

"I'm a troll, how much easier does it GET to understand? Least I'm not a freak."

:: Olga adds a wink to show her jest as she takes her credstick back from the tender. ::

"As far as when we're leaving, I don't care much. I'm pefectly comfortable hanging out here until I grow roots. The sky is unnerving enough when it's not pissing on me."

"Why don't you use that anno..I mean..girlish charm of your's to go place nice with the big bad men. If you bite off more than you can chew, just yelp."

:: Picking up the jacket, she gingerly expects the repair job done by the magical tailor. Damn fine job even if it did cost a pretty penny. She couldn't imagine dealing with the jacket if it hadn't been repairable. ::

[Buddha72]

:: Iblis tosses her bag underneath Ogla's stool.::

"Watch my stuff and wish me luck."

:: She hops off the stool and saunters off towards the table."

"Hiya boys. Mind if we feminine types join in on this small gathering?"

[MrSandman666]

After a moment of silence which Ohanzee has used to overhear the conversation of the recently arrived guests the younger and more human looking of the two moves toward the table.

"Hiya boys. Mind if we feminine types join in on this small gathering?"

Ohanzee looks into the round at his table a little awe-struck.
After a moment of general silence he asks, with a little tense untertone: "Well, do we mind?"

[The_Sarge]

Murphy slides back, stands up and bows.

"Do I look like I would mind? Please, be my quests."

With a quite charming (even with the tusks, he had to practice real hard for this) smile he makes an inviting gesture. "Boris? What about you? I hope the extra company doesen't bother you." he adds silently in a somewhat emberrased voise.
"Sorry..."

[Buddha72]

:: Iblis flashes another million watt smile with a wink thrown in for good measure.::

"Let me collect my terse and tusky friend and we can make introductions all around."

:: She walks back to her friend and grabbing a horn turns her attention towards the table where the rest of the patrons are assembled.::

"The boys want to play nice, come on over and grimace at the nice people."

:: With that said, reaches down and grabs her pack and grabs a seat with her new best friends.::

[Blitz]

:: Olga can't help but chuckle at the elf. Father Durham had it right, mess up a person's exterior and there is vast opportunity for them to seek inner beauty and peace. Her little changling friend had unwittingly traveled the path Olga so desperately tried to stay on, and she was an elf to boot...the race the Church believed was most likely to fall prey to the devil's temptations. Guess the 6th world doesn't know jack about following the rules. ::

:: Rising, she effortlessly grabs the two benches and drags them closer to the boy's table once again lining them up to help support her weight. As she passes the bar, she orders a second round of whatever the table is drinking and leaves her credstick in the tenders care. ::

"I hope my colorful mate di'n't disturb you gentsh, if sho, perhap a round would shmooth t'ingsh over?"

:: There is a slight, yet almost undetectible lisp when she attempts to pronounce S sounds, primarily due to the larger than normal tusks that protrude from her lower jaw. Despite the inconvenience, she apparantly has embraced them to the point of having each caped in silver, making them look almost decrative, in a dangerous sort of way. ::

[lodestar]

It is difficult to read "Boris's" expression behind the pair of inset lenses, but the newcommers apparently do not bother him. He looks down at his tumbler now near empty, and for a moment what he has that passes for a smile momentarily crosses his brutish face. It was good to have comrades in arms, especially ones with similar lifestyle oddities. He turns to Murphy.

"It is good story you tell, Murphy, I too remember when I was not like... this. It was good, but that was long time passed." He takes another drink, the cheap alchohol bearing the same metalic tang of his teeth. "There was time when I not like this either..." Pausing to tap the corner of one metal and polycarbonate eyepiece with wide flat fingernail "But that story I no like to tell. How I get here? That is more intresting in the telling."

"Boris" pauses to lean back in his chair, shifting in his damp-heavy trench coat. "I do work for while. I help people ... get places." He smiles again "People like you..." He gestures to Murphy, "And you..." To the lady-troll. "And me. Many, many people. My comrades and I, we have good ship, but people no pay very well, so we take other ... business as well..." He looks down at his glass and slowly shakes his head. Whether it is at the glass's emptiness or some other personal thought it is hard to tell.

"This business... it make good money... good money" He rubs his thumb and index finger in the universal signal, long persisting after the demise of paper money "But it bring trouble. Trouble with "Boss" in this... Seattle."

He leans back again and shrugs "Now, No comrades... No ship. I do pick up work now. Drive car sometime, Mostly use machines to watch people for money, sometimes use gun. Its a living."

"Boris" looks down again into his glass, seemingly have forgotten about its emptiness.