Artemis entered the place that was so familiar. Jobs seemed to be slim lately, the private meeting rooms in the back of Renos didn't even seem to be occupied at the moment. Several runners were standing around enjoying a pint of this or that, bantering about old jobs that could do little to harm their current careers. Then there were the few who sat in the corner tables and warily watched the others, as if everyone else were bug spirits about to pounce on them if they ever dared to lower their guard.

Walking up to the counter she removed the hood of her cloak and ordered for herself a cup of darjing tea. She was one of a few mages who ever ordered the stuff here, often drawing odd looks from the mead-drinking tough types who frequented the establishment. It was a bar after all.

“Have Hobbes or Silver Fox been in here tonight?” she asked with a definite sperethiel accent to her speech.

The bartender hadn't seen either of them in a few days at the very least. Busy with their normal lives he reckoned. Artemis nodded and took her drink to the nearest unoccupied table. Her dark cloak wasn't all that different from the black securetech long coats worn by practically every other customer in the bar, although the fine clothing she wore underneath it was abnormal for these parts. Almost gave her a Johnson-like appearance form up close. She was on the short side, especially for an elf, and not apparently muscular. She was quite the looker though, fair-skinned “eye candy” she overheard one of the nearby slummers comment to his buddy as he glanced her over.

She ignored it and made herself comfortable, ruffling her light brown hair and throwing the length of it back over her shoulders. There were a couple of orks and trolls who didn't have a liking for pretty-faerie-folk, but this was a place for business as well as relaxation. Fights were not permitted inside, and security was well prepared for rabble-rousers. Her dark jade eyes glazed over and scanned the room for familiar faces and auras as she sipped her hot tea.

The news was cycling through the usual scandles and dail events. Apparently the infamous radio talkshow host and shadowsnoop reporter ‘J Jason, DJ, FM/AM’ had been missing for several weeks now. They replayed his last trideo segment for the hundredth time, a recording of two trolls and a few metahumans robbing a casino in the middle of the night. Rumor had it that this shadowsnoop reporter had been trying to track the life of a shadowrunner known as the Core.

“More disappearances...” she remarked softly as she gazed at the trid.

Hot Wheels stretched out in her booth, nursing her scotch and waiting for the muscle relaxing effects to kick in, and unwork the knot between her shoulder blades.
It had been a rewarding day, you didn't often get a chance to work on a 1960's Mustang, the real thing, without a fear of Lone Star busting in, but this had been a completely legal and above board job at an estate in Bellvue, transfering the working engine from a wreck and into the wonderful shell of the car whose abused motor had burned out. It had been fun but hard work, and the sore spot between her shoulders wasn't helped by the bruise still lingering sting there from a gel round fired by an overly zelous guard at the estate when she'd shown up to do the work.

She took another long sip from her tea and then set it down. A soft tone came form her pocket secretary, calling her attention to it. Half way through her reading of the text message on it, a drained look appeared on her face. Heavy hearted, she put the device back into its pocket and held her formal posture. She sat there and stared absently at the tea in front of her, running through thoughts and memories. She broke into a light smile at many of them, but there was loss that was clearly visible in her eyes.

Lodestar steps in and surveys the bar, this place would be as good as any. For once there was some spare time and he almost didn't know what to do with himself. Yuri said the new cans for the Aurora wouldn't be in until next week, something about them coming all the way from Japan or something. The truck was parked beside her in the shop, waiting for parts. Story of my life. Held up at the border from the Kenworth plant in Vancouver, the NANs probably deciding on some new way to tax them. Sitting and waiting always made him irritable. He needed a drink.

"J.D. and Soda, make it a double."

Recieving his drink he flicks the neon red straw to an ashtray epoxied to the counter. It was that kind of place, It probably wasn't J.D.'s, and he avoided drinking from the chipped side of the glass. Turning from the bar he leans back against it. The music too loud, some crap the kids listen to these days, He spots the Johnson-like elf sitting alone, but it don't look like she's hiring. Don't matter, unless its a foot-job, I ain't working.

Taking another sip he takes note of Hot Wheels in a booth off to the side. He nods to her knowing her only by sight and reputation. Shifts in his jacket, one of the ferro-plast plates out of place digging into his elbow. He notes the exits, feeling naked without the Gong holstered at his side. What are you expecting stupid? To come here and get into a fight? Blow off some steam? Quit thinking like some newbie kid looking to make a name. Sit. relax. Enjoy the synthahol.

Lodestar turned back to the bar and took another drink, and for a moment both eyes' gaze, the real one and the replaced one, were lost in the bottom swirl of staw colored drink, and wished not to be too amped up to sit still.

Fox eased into the bar. There probably wasn't a risk , no more than normal anyway but it never hurt to be careful. Jeans, leather jacket, boots, didn't look like she'd be a target. Someone good would notice the Colt Asp in the small of her back, but hey, if anyone objected she had a permitt.

She looked the crowd over. Not too many regulars in yet, just a few corpers slumming in a place they were told street types hung in and some kids, newbies hoping to get the attention of the serious runners. She moved htrough the thin crowd, a nod to Lodestar. Wheels looked smug, seemed like she'd had the big score she wanted. Fox consdiered joining her chummer then then decided No. She'd just drive her nuts talknig about twin cam overdriver double fart valve covers or something. Fox would hear it all at some ponit. No need to go looking for it.
Pausing at the bar Fox ordered a Green River lager and a saki. The lager would clear her throat, then she could enjoy the saki. She just wanted an easy night. Early November meant that her busy season was over. A PI who specialized in paranormal problems didn't get much time for anything but work in october. Truth to tell ghosts were no more active around Halloween than any other time of the year but people seemed to wanmt the problems dealt with, or maybe hoaxes exposed before the holiday season started. She suspected a few people hired her hoping she would bring ghots with her to liven up their parties. She had learned the hard way some people thought it was a spectator sport when she showed up at a "huanted" house and found herself followed aronud by a bunch of people in black tie, drinking and commetning behind her back like a greek chorus. She'd almost blow her cover with that crowd.
But tonight, she could relax

The bar seemed to be rustling with some well known faces among the shadows. The big troll bouncer at the entrance stopped a couple of runners at the door who seemed upset about giving up their firearms. A few stern words later, their weapons went straight into secure baskets in a store room near the entrance and they wandered in, taking a table near the back.

Artemis turned her attention back to the two runners at the bar who had just finished ordering drinks. She crossed her legs and leaned back... at least that little gnome wasn't around, trying to impress people with his magic tricks and corny pick up lines. She still wasn't quite certain what to think of him yet. She finished off her tea and stood up, bringing her cup back to the bar for a refill. At the bar she looked over at the runners and smiled, giving them a welcoming nod.

“I don't believe we've met. They call me Artemis,” she extended a gentle hand.

She had a very cordial presence, and yet she wasn't snooty or condescending at all in her treatment of others. A child-like innocence still gleamed in her eyes, and a bright smile that warmed the heart. There was no sign of concealed weapons on her, or of empty sheaths and holsters.

Wailer eased his way out of the latrine, zipping up his fly on the way out. The old dwarf had been in there for a while, courtesy of his dinner at 'Shorty's Cajun Bar and Grill' on the waterfront. 'Pipin' hot goin' in, and likewise comin' out' he'd always said - But considering he had cooked the meal, he had no reason to complain.

The place had definately picked up over the past ten minutes, he guessed that it had reached 'about that time' when it was chill to actually show up at this bar. He'd never been here, actually, but had come on the recommendation of a good chummer, whom he was supposed to meet here later. He was a good kid, stayed out of trouble, mostly, and said he knew a bunch of people who came here regularly - thought they'd get a kick out of old Wailer. The dwarf had appreciated the gesture, found it funny almost, considering the kid knew nothing of his past - but it was better that way. Wailer was much more content sitting back and watching the games now, this halfer was way past SOTA and there were a bit too many aches and pains in his old bones to beat himself up like the 'good old days'.

Scanning the nearby area casually, the dwarf moved over towards the recently vacated booth. There was a noticable limp in his stride and he relied heavily on a beautifully carved wooden cane to help himself along. In the dim light, the specifics of the cane were difficult to make out, but it appeared to be of Amerindian craftsmanship, or at least as good.

He slid into the booth, straightening out his 'Old World' Vashion Island suit, and set his matching hat on the table next to him, alongside his cane. Cracking his neck once, he pulled the two greying braids over his shoulders and leaned back against the booth, taking in the sights.

Was Fox ignoring her? 'Wheels wondered. Nah she probably didn't see her friend in the booth was all. Wheels noticed she had that pinched look around the eyes again, too many night fueling her body with caffiene instead of real food and sleep. If she wouldn't let people mother her into taking care of herself she'd have a break down. Wheels too another pull of the scotch and wondered what she'd have to do to get her friend to agree to actually sleep somewhere.

Fox hoped the dwarf would behave himself. He was dressed well enough but that didn't guareentee everything. Two idiot posers were trying to arm wrestle each other. Should they be in a bar with sawdust on the floor and chicken wire between them and the band? Well if they got out of hand the bouncers would deal with them.

Fox finished her beer and started to look forward to the saki. She looked to Artemis. Seemed nice enough, hadn't heard much about her but nothing bad. "so what brings you here?" Fox asked.

“I was hoping to meet two friends of mine, but it seems they won't be coming.”

She looked over at the armwrestlers and then back at Fox, “Besides, Reno says he gets tired of only having posers in his bar,” she smiled.

Lodestar watches the dwarf cross the floor. Like himself, the stumper had seen a lot of life, and some of it obviously unkind. Yet there was a spryness to Wailer's step that belied hidden potential. His attention snap turned back to the elf who had made her way to the bar, but just as fast turned toSnow Fox as he catches how she favours one side to turn to the elf. A subtle shift in her weight, barely noticable, 'Fox was packin, and good enough to get past the bouncers. He restrains a grin as he takes another drink. Once a runner, always a runner. From what he knew of 'Fox, she didn't need it to handle herself. But it was always good to be sure. Overhearing the conversation between the two Lodestar swallows the last bit from his glass and slides it down the bar towards the tender, signalling for another.

"You might ask the same of you 'Fox, I didn't think this was your kind of place."

Fox looked up and smiled. "It's not, that's why why I'm here." That earned her a pyuzzled look for a momment then she added, "I've had been busy lately and needed a little bit of a break. My phone is off and usual Johnsons wouldn't look for me here so I can take a little time off." She took a sip of the saki. Had to get through it before it got cold. Hot Saki: good. Cold saki: tasted like seaweed. "let's face it, whatever types this place does attract, it's not the sort of place you go to find an expert on occult and paranormal mysteries."

She offered the other two at the bar a round. "Actually I don't mind the posers too much. They get the attnetion of the slumming corpers who want to see the real deal. The corpers think they've had a thrill and the posers get someone to ooh and ah over. They're all happy and they leave me alone. As long as they DO leave me alone, it's a win win situation." another sip of saki. The small bottle was finished. She signaled the bar tender for another and a bowl of popcorn.

"I suppose you're right, I wouldn't think to look for a para-whatchamacallit here either." Lodestar turns on his barstool to survey the rest of Reno's "For a minute I thought maybe your taste in music had slipped." He grimmaced as one techno-punk-alternative switched for another. Was it too much to ask for a little Stones now and again? "The live entertainment isn't bad though."

He gestures to the armwrestlers, One Chiba muscle graft victorius over the other, both had probably cost each other some replacement surgery in the process. He wonders was I ever like that? All hopped up on piss and vinegar. A finger goes to scratch the scar tissue around his right eye, the redlensed replacement. Some times it was good to remember being stupid, as long as you learn from it.

Aside from those he'd spotted, there didn't seem to be any other serious runners in the bar. It meant he was in the right place.

The suit enters the bar quickly, giving a quick, tired glance around. Mabye not his kinda place, but damn it, he was tired of doing legwork. One thing that everyone would notice, except those that might be blind or have some sort of impairment, is that everything he does, his movements, his speech, his actions, everything is done with noticeable bearing that is uniquely military. He always looks a little on-edge, keeping constant tabs on his surroundings, his watchful blue eyes scanning his area every minute or two. Those eyes always seem to have a fatigued look in them. Not like he hasn't gotten enough sleep, or he worked too hard, but just a general tiredness that won't come undone. His brown hair is dark, cut into a short, sharp, military regulation, almost marine in nature, though not quite. A datajack of blakened, non-reflective metal is embedded on the right side of his head, just above the ear and the hairline, blending in well-enough so that you'd have to know it was there, or be looking really hard to see it. He looks athletic, even muscular, though not overly-so, mabye just above a practical range. He looks like he ways in the range of a hundred ninety, to two hundred pounds, most of it muscle, his height cutting off to a slightly above average six foot even.
He is wearing a black suit, that fits nicely. He wears a moderate blue shirt under the suit, a green and blue stripped tie worn on his neck, not emphasizing power, but more in an attempt to calm down the enemies that can be calmed down. He wears a pair of black dress shoes, shined for a flightdeck. A small, circular pin representing some sort of patriotic, "GO UCAS" symbol is worn on the suit jacket's collar. A black duster is worn over it all, looking weighted down with hidden armor. Overall, the entire outfit looks professional, but doesn't take away the soldierly look of the man.

He rubs his eyes tiredly as he makes his way up to the bar, footsteps echoing as many of the occupants of the bar eye him warily. He looks enough like a cop or some Federal Agent to draw suspision. He coughs into the sleeve of his duster and looks up the bartender,

"Coke."

<<OOC>> This is my first little RP kinda post on a board. If I do something wrong or out of ettiquitte, please, tell me, and I will try to correct my conduct.

"Occult and paranormal mysteries" she said with a grin at how pretentious it sounded even to her.
"At least that's what it says on the licence. as for change in music taste? nah." Fox took another small sip. "I'm pretty eclectic but I have my limits. I heard last week they had a Troll thrash band." she grimaced at the thought. "I can't hear that and think music. I don't want to put down someone's artistic expression but the last time I heard something like that, the driver on the Dept of sanitation's citymaster got the gears confused and 'collected' a VW parked next to a dumpster." She grinned at the memory, the flow of obscenities that followed form all parties pretty much echoed the lyrics of troll thrash music.
She gestured with her hand holding the saki cup towards the two street sam powers, each rubbing the strained arm. "Either of you,"She included Artemis, "think they're live long enough to learn you get those mods so you won't have to use them?"THey both seemed to give small knowing smiles at the observation. "At least most sami posers now know not to stand there cutting their food with their spurs."
She notied the lastest person coming in the door, "drek" she thought "a suit" sure there were already a few corpers there, a few of them cute but this guy had a littel more to him. Sure the suit screamed "mug me now" or at least "giggle" depending on your outlook but there was soemthing else. He moved with an assurance that he didn't think he needed back up, and had the grace that he could handle some rough and tumble, especially from some drek for brains who just saw the expensive suit and went for the price tag. but the suit meant that he didn't blend in. He wasn't good enough to blend into the back ground for observation, he wanted to be seen.
"please," she thought "let him be posing for other coirpers and not here looking for work." He'd certainly got the attention of the two sami posers and the biff with them, a skinny little thing who could have only got in here with a fake id but she did read as awakened.

Lodestar turns his attention from Fox to the suit as he passes them to the bar. Ex-military by the look, probably enticed into the Ares payroll in some form or another. From the clean cut look, some part of him probably still believed the UCAS line, still managing to hold it secure down in this world of darkness. For him it was probably a secure light to hold back the shadows. But then so did you, Randolf, where did it go out? That op in Tripoli? Or maybe it was the mission in Sophia. Lodestar scratched his head, the grey hair still cut to a number four. It had been that way since he signed up for the treament, and was still that way when he became obsolete. An old warhorse put to pasture not even reached middle age. He turned back to the conversation with Fox and Artemis "ah, you never know. The kids gotta start somewhere. Maybe they'll get lucky."

"Say, wasn't that that troll band whose schtick was playing that wood bass like a guitar? I think they've banned that in some of the NAN's for being un-enviornmental or something."

The two Meatmods at the bar had held Wailer's attention well through the duration of his first beer, but the dwarf repeatedly felt his gaze shift over to the other three at the bar, the one man and the two females. All three seemed particularly at ease here, more than likely regulars ... though considering how two of them kept glancing towards the speakers with odd looks on their faces, that might not exactly be the case. Wailer even caught the man's eyes cross his table once, sizing him up with a casual but studied look that wasn't the piercing glare of a cop or military, but someone who could gather just as much information at a glance without drawing so much attention. Wailer, expecting nor looking for any trouble, held the exchange with an unwavering yet unaggressive look, accompanied by an amiable tilt of his head and a slight lift of his glass.

His attention quickly shifted to the door as the man with the UCAS Fed 'look' walked in. Doubtful, for sure, but there's always a chance, Wailer thought to himself. He had already started to reach for his hat and his cane when he caught himself and arrested the movement. You settled your biz over seven years ago, Ban, he reminded himself, partially angry at his momentary loss of cool, but still relieved that he still had the instinct of the old days. If they had still been looking for him, the dwarf would've faded away into the sparse crowd painlessly - with the ever present exception of that pain in his left leg.

Chuckling slightly, the dwarf shook his head and took a sip of his drink through a wide and toothy grin while silently hoping that neither the suit that had just entered nor the three rather interesting folk at the bar had noticed his initial reaction. I'd say you're slipping, old chum, but you slipped a long time ago. Those days are far gone, you've paid your dues and had your dues paid, Omae. Relax and have a nice night out away from the restaurant - Legs has got it under control. Nodding once to himself, he finished his drink and set himself up for another.

Fox smiled, remembering the blow up in the newsfaxes over the ban, "environmental concerns" "Human prejudices" "smothering artistic expression" etc ad nausium, at least as long as it kept the readers' interest.
"That's the group." she said,"the problem wasn't the base player but the fact the drummer was surounded by flaming barrels of crude petrolioum, giving them a background of dense black smoke. "
She eyed the suit out of the ocrner of her eye. He was making a ponit of ignoring the three at the bar, and doing it so carefully he must be watching them. Well, hopefully he was just posturing. She had also noticed that as he came in the dwarf seemed to do a quick check of his belongs, like he was going to make a run for it and then reconsidered. If the suit was looking for the dwarf, she'd have to make sure she stayed out of thel nie of fire.

The suit takes a slow sip of the soda put in front of him by the bartender, promptly reaching into his duster and laying an appropriate amount of cash on the table. UCAS scrip. Hefty tip in all there as well. He wasn't so much making a point of ignoring the people at the bar as he was trying to mind his own fragging biz. He knew, listen to the wrong conversation, hear the wrong thing... and in two years a Coast Guard Cutter might find your corpse in the bay. He noticed the man do his little dance of caution, but doesn't seem to care or at least, doesn't want anything to do about it. He eyes anyone approaching carefully, but just goes about his business. He glances around the room, looking for something or someone, and frowns, before shrugging and looking up, concentrating for a nano-second, before reaching into his coat, and taking out a Pocket Secretary, hitting a few buttons and smiling at the result... He replaces the PocSec into his duster, and reaches down to sip his Coke again, listening to something only he can hear.

"I wouldn't worry about the suit 'Fox, he's harmless. If he meant business, he'd have backup." He takes a sip of the wiskey and soda, or whatever it was that passed for one. "But its an odd choice if he's lookin' for a place to relax." He subtly nods in the direction of several patrons who had taken obvious interest in the suit's arrival. Whether said parties were interested in any offers the suit had of financial gain, or perhaps simpler more brutal intrests, was up for debate. "Mebee we should find better seats."

"and miss the fun?" she smiled. "We might move down the bar a littel to avoid the scatter pattern of anthing but this oculd be fun." Fox's voice sounded playful but she didn't share Lodestar's confidence. The idiot had just plunked out cash. not credit not nuyen but cash. Better than a certified credit stick that was like waving a flag at a bull or standing under a neon sign reading "mug me now." She didn't believe he was that dense so there was something wrong. She turned to Artemis, "What do you think?"

A skeptical eyebrow is raised at 'Fox's idea of fun, but he shrugs it off. Did the suit have backup? If he did, they were good. He ran through his memory of some of the vehicles outside when he entered. None that set off any alarms. Other patrons? The guy in the corner pretending to sip his drink? The two muscle boys had taken some interest in the suit, but nothing hostile. The bouncers would stop anything major from breaking out but you never know when some idiot might take some chance with a Hong Kong special they were packing for just some ill concieved occasion like this. Or maybe some punk who just earned he can pull off some wiz and wants to show off. Worst of all, a suit like this doesn't just dissappear without someone to come looking.

The suit still just sits there, sipping his Coke and silently listening to the voices in his head. "Up by 2..." He just looks down to stop then, glancing about the bar again... seems hes drawing some undue attention... But hey, this wasn't the 'rens... if it was, he'd be displaying a nice deterrent. But for now he cracks his knuckles, and stands up, rolling his neck to and fro, and quickly (and very discretly) adjusting his duster so theres no chance that it would get in the way if... well someone tried something stupid. He starts a slow easy walk around the bar, just looking around. This takes him near to wear Fox and her companion are sitting, though its just one of those random things. His eyes are elsewear however, scanning the crowd, and at anyone that might be watching him too closly. Can we say paranoid?

“He feels confident enough. But he looks pretty harmless... with his intent at least.” Her eyes were glazed over slightly, percieving colors and shapes beyond the perception of regular patrons.

“Did you say you were into occult and paranormal research?” she asked Fox, displaying something of a grateful smile now that there was someone here who had appreciation for her gifts. “You might say that I'm something of a practitioner in that field.”

When the suit looked at Fox, Lodestar, and Artemis, she smiled at him sweetly and watched him attentatively. She was ready for foul play, but unless he was masking his aura as well as a politician, he didn't look as if he were in the mood for causing trouble. Perhaps he didn't know that it wasn't customary for most people to pay in such forms as he did. A foreigner perhaps without a credstick of anykind.

She spared a glance back at the two essence drained wrestlers a the table over yonder. “I hope they don't have to learn the hard way.”

Lodestar's glance flicks towards Artiis and he smirks for a second before taking another drink. "You mean there's an easy way to learn that stuff? Damn, I wish someone would have told me."

“Well... like most talents— it has to come to you naturally,” she smiled.

The suit glances over to the group staring at him, catching peices of the conversation, but nothing too useful. He does take notice of a small item in the elven mages speech. It was true that he wasn't looking for trouble, but his aura had an underlieing caution to it... but it was slight, masked well by a large presense of professionalism. He walks closer the the Artemis, inquiring, oddly enough, in Sperethiel, an accent partially present, but not overly pronounced, "Hello there, are you from the Land of Promise? I was wondering if you could help me?"

She seemed quite surprised at this turn of event. For a human to know sperethiel was a rarity, she was consumed with curiousity.

“How can I be of help to you?” she inquired politely in perfect sperethiel.

Those familiar with the language enough could conceivably tell that she had a Tir Tairngire accent. She decided that she would let her accent answer his first question... if he was educated enough to tell. Still, she remained wary deep down.

Fox cocked a single eybrow, something she'd worked very hard to learn, She didn't speak "elf" but she could recognize it, the suit was getting interesting. She hoped Artemis could let her know if things went south. She looked to Lodestar, "You don't have to be born with it, but it helps. I commonly get people who think I'm a mage but you can study and even influence the paranormal without being awakened."
"A lot of times someone has a ghost haunting their place or think they're under a curse or think they got ripped off by a spell slinger and want a second opinion. A careful eye and a little research help you get through a lot of drek. I've found bad plumbing to cause knocking in wall far more often than lost spirits."
"You'd be surprised how many people want there to be something wrong in their lives so they can blamer misfortune on something other than the real cause."

The suit nods to the elf, and switchs to english. Using the laungauge usually got the attention of who ever he needed. "I'm looking for some other people from that general area... I'm a foreman with the longshoremen's union down at the docks in everrett, I was told I could meet them here..." An obvious lie to the mage, but a well concealed one to everyone else. Jyden's thoughts are racing though, What if she's one of them... No... she doesn't look like it... then again... this is Tir Intel were talking about... wouldn't be stupid enough to use an accent...

Fox looked up at the suit. She did not like this. Union bosses usually didn't speak elf. Hell, in her experience some of them had enough trouble with english and the usually avoided good fitting suits. They usually like to cultivate the image they were one with the workers they were gouging for a lively hood. "What area? Longshoremen? I don't think there are any of those in here. But those,"she gestured towards the two muscle head street sam wannabees, "Look like they have the needed attributes."

Lodestar's attention snap shifted to the suit's change in behavior. He knew just enough to know that the language spoken was probably Spereth especially judging from the concern it had drawn from 'Fox. He had nothing aginst elves, but business regarding the Tir always set him on edge. A connection with the docks usualy involved the mob. For the most part the two were mutually exclusive, He wanted nothing to do with something tht involved both. He shrugs back at 'Fox "I'll have to take your word for it 'Fox, Your parnormal stuff is outside my area of expertise."

As he speaks his attention isn't on the conversation. The suit was troubling him, drek, he came here to get his mind off stuff like this. His eyes came back to 'Fox, with an almost impercepible nod, I'll back you up if it comes to it. A glance back to Artemis, the small talk had turned serious. Where did she stand? For a second he remembered Phantome's admonition. Tabernac! Your spirit is filty you anglo swine! Artemis probably held a similar opinion. He smiled inwardly at the memory. Where was the Quebecer now? Back to the present. Artemis was an unknown. He quicky made mental note of the bar's exits. Aside from 'Fox and the bouncers, three others were packin'. He made a note of Hot Wheels still at her booth. Could she be counted on if the chips were down? What kind of reaction would the dwarf make? Suddenly there became too many unknowns to be comfortable, and far too much action for just having relaxing drink.

Too amped up to sit still. He took another drink, and eyes came back to the suit.

Fox could see Lodestar tense. Most people wouldn't notice it but she'd made a ponit of studying body language. He was almsot at the point of starting to finger weapons. She didn't think it would go that far, so far the suit was just talking about something and that was all. Maybe he'd had a bad experience with the Tir. A union boss speaking "Elf." Too many questions. She suspected he was lying about the union but if, and it was a big if, a person speaking elf was talking about the docks, that imnplied something to do with the tir's considerable problems with it's economy, since it used Seattle as it's principal port for import and export. Not the sort of issue she was usually asked to consult on.

Wailer kept a wary eye on the four at the bar, ever since the suit had walked up and introduced himself, some of the others' postures had shifted to 'the ready'. The old amerind cracked his neck once and relaxed into the booth, keeping an eye on the situation without actually eye-balling it. Of course, at a moments notice he'd be ready to duck for cover in case anything actually went down. His reflexes were still good for his age, but he'd need to stay aware. Still tryin' to stay on the game, Old man? Why don't you relax and take whatever fate sends tumbling in your direction, eh?

The dwarf's left eye twitched slightly as the voice came back, he'd always written it off as self-doubt or common sense .. but sometimes it spoke a little too loudly, or in a different 'voice'. For Spirit's sake, all he wanted was a couple cold beers and possibly some decent company, wasn't there a chance for the Good Life anymore? Drek.

The suit nods a little to Snow Fox, "The area, yes. As in the Tir Tariengire. I'm not looking for longshoreman... I'm just looking for some people that were intereasted in off-loading a container ship..." Jyden trailed off, No... they weren't buying this at all... He sighs and nods, "Well... thank you for your time in any case." He turns his head a little and then he sees them... two elves... and that paranoia kicks in. Could be... so that means he needs a reason to stick around... and finding one was simple enough. He turns back toward Fox, "Actually, I was wondering, could I mabye buy you a drink or something?"

looking down on the dwarf from over the top of the shared wall of her booth, hot wheels cleared her throat, she didn't want to scare him into a heart attack. He looked up, started, she gave a harmless smile, maybe just a little too "who me?" worked into it, but she made sure he could see both her hands. He looked pissed at being startled but it was more embarrassed at being surprised than any threat. She tried to be disarming."If you're going to be that jumpy, you shouldn't drink alone. Can I join you?"
without waiting for an answer she moved over to the dwarf's booth, making a show of holding a beer in her left hand and a basket of popcorn in the right. She slid into the booth on the side to not crowd his right, hopefully shooting, hand.
She gestured towards the bar and the door, "I thought with more people coming in it was rude to take up too many booths."

She was still astrally perceiving, his lie as obvious as a lighthouse lamp. She also noticed Lodestar out of the corner of her eye. Keeping a calm smile on her face, she turned slightly in his and Fox's direction and rested a feather light hand on his shoulder. Her eyes darted back to the suit.

“I would have to say that foreman have changed quite a bit if you were indeed one of them. I should know since my uncle happens to be one here in Seattle,” she arched an eyebrow. “If your aura wasn't blinding enough on it's own, I'd still say you were being a little above the truth... Mr.—?”

She caught sight of the two elves that he noticed. Who were they and what were they up to? she thought to herself.

"Jyden, Rheiv Jyden." He flashs another smile, not exactly disarming, but its at least an attempt at being charming. So I used my real name. How many people here are gonna be familier with that name... doesn't look like there are many people hear from the Cali army... He gives a glance to Artemis, using good old fashion perception... Shes good... but she ain't a cop... a mage mabye...? But he just keeps that smile on, "Your right... I'm not a foreman, just a lowly grunt. Its what I get for trying to impress the ladies." A lie in spirit, but not in word. Still, he might just get away with it, "So would you ladies mind if a tired dockworker took a seat here?"

Meanwhile the elves were being as non-chalant as possible, taking a seat at a table in the corner and conversing among themselves, looking up as if there waiting for some more people.

Rheiv of course, keeps his wits about him, keeping track of the elves position with a practiced tactical sense. If any mages were still reading his aura, one thing is damn clear. He was no dockworker. Unless Dockworkers also served combat tours.

>>OOC<< If anyone here is from the CFS Military, they may have heard the name Rheiv Jyden before, from an incident occuring in 2060. Messege me if you want the info on that.

Fox smiled, with all the sincerity of a Johnson, "it's a public bar, unless the bar tender doesn't like you, I don't see how we could stop you."
A man in a good suit now claiming he's just a grunt? Sure with the muscles he might have worked as a dock worker but is clearly wasn't the only work he'd done. As the story got more interesting the lie got worse. Either he wanted us to know he wasn't being straight,or he's just a bad liar or he's insulting us by thinking we'll fall for it. His tension levels were going ballistic. There might not be time to let this run naturally, so she thought, it was time to be a little blunt. "A lie is a terrible way to say hello."

Lodestar catches the cues from 'Fox and Artemis, They weren't too worried abut the suit. They had it all under control. Take a deep breath, relax. Unfortunately it was too easy for him to jump from idle to full throttle. He felt just like the Aurora in pieces in the shop, still able wheelie in fourth gear. The suit might be harmless, but he was setting off Lodestar's warning lights too often. This is why you don't come packin' heat to a place like this Randolph. He berated himself remembering the time some poor lackey in a bad suit ended up pinned to a similar bar with a gun to the back of his head. Lodestar still couldn't remember what the hapless corper had said to set him off. He needed some distance from the suit. Spying 'Wheels and the dwarf chatting over a few pints. He nods to the suit, 'Fox and Artemis. "Not dumpin you bunch but I'm going to get a better seat to relax." He nods over to the booth 'Wheels and Wailer occupy.

Lodestar makes his way across the bar to the booth. "Hot Wheels right?" Turning to the dwarf "I don't think I've got your handle, You mind if I have a seat? The suit over there's making me a little too edgy if you know what I mean. Oh, Lodestar's the name."

OOC: Ol' Lode has various "reaction enhancements" so if he seems a little hair triggered its the way he's wired so to speak, he's not being a prick on purpose, he just comes across that way.

As Kim walks in she immediately feels out of place. This isn't anything like she's used to. Looking around anxiously, seemingly waiting for something, she softly bites her lower lip. She turns her head to the nearest bouncer. "Well, could you take my coat?" she asks in a nice and pleasant voice.

Besides the light leather boots she's wearing, now a dark pleated skirt is visible. Lank pitch black hair falls over a light woolen polo-neck sweater. She quickly puts a small golden necklace under the collar. With a deep sigh she strides over to an empty spot at the bar, leaving her cagoule behind.

Leaning a bit over the bar she asks for a mix of Baileys, Cointreau and Galliano. After thinking for a few seconds the bartender smirks "AH, that's a.." Quickly interrupting him Kim says "I know." She smiles, showing dimples in her immaculate elven countenance. "Don't ask, just give it to me please."

Waiting for her favourite drink she looks around attentively.

A man walks in, cell phone to his ear. He his speaking loud enough so that anyone in the room can hear the end of the conversation. ....care if you chipped a blade. This has been the only night off I have had since I arrived here. It can wait until tomarrow." With that, the phone is hung up in a rather annoyed fashion.

Something about this man makes him stand out from the rest of the crowd here at Reno's. It could be the brown hair, the refined gait, or the blue eyes which almost look real and, despite there electronic origins, sparkle with intelligence.

Or maybe, just maybe, it's the Class A UCAS Army greens the man wears. THat's right, a dress uniform with all the frockery, from the sliver bar on each of his shoulders, to the wings above a small 'salad bar' of ribbions.

Kalinn Micheal Stanton manages to look out-of-place, uncomfortable, and slightly lost all at the same time. This was the first time he has been off Fort Lewis since he arrived here a month ago, attached to JTFS's meager Army Avation asset. And it would have been alot more enjoyable too, had he not seen that damn memo posted by the CG that all members of the command wear dress when going off base. Colloton said it was to impove community relations. Hah! more likly so the the Military Police on courtesy patrol can recognize intoxicated soldiers quicker! In any case, Stanton thought it was a bad idea. Sure, you wore a Class A out in Michigan, you got restaurtant meals and the daughters of the local popualtion. Here in Seattle, it would most likly get a beating (getting blood out of the uniform would cost enough) and an empty credstick (insult to injury). Luckily, other memorandem allowed Kalinn to carry some things that should deter that outcome. He walks up to the bar as casually as he can. "A Dr. Pepper, please.", are his words to the barkeep.

Upon seeing the man in Army Greens, the elves get much more tense. One of them even gets up, as if to leave, but his companion shakes his head and speaks in low tones to his apparent friend. Apparantly, it would probably go along the lines of the man is just an pilot and rigger. No assassian would be stupid enough to enter a Runner's bar like that....

Then again, There was the suit. He wasn't stupid... just a little crazy. He moves up and takes a seat at the bar next to Snow Fox, giving her an odd glance and then a a small, sheepish smile, "Well... your perceptive... I must apologize for that then... I'm not very good at stretching the truth." He takes a sip of his drink, "So, Ma'am, how are you?" Just making small talk, while his eyes scan this newest arrival... Great, a flyboy. Well.... at least hes nor Air Force.

It was good to see a fellow female elf in the bar. But the arrival of a UCAS pilot in uniform was the most unexpected occurrence yet. She smirked as she watched Jyden pair himself up with Snow Fox. It seemed she had an admirer, even if he was doing it to seem less of a sore thumb. She made eye contact with Snow Fox as if to ask Snow if she felt comfortable being left alone with this guy.

She was half tempted to follow Lodestar over to the booth where the others were, but the booth looked crowded already. She pulled back a refilled cup of tea from the bartender and gave him a thankful smile. The uniform on his cellphone seemed honest enough in his aura. Wasn't too happy about whatever the circumstances were, but he was ready to make the best of it anyway. She nodded and gave him a welcoming smile.

The older Amerind halfer nodded first to Hot Wheels, then Lodestar as they each approached his booth. He made no attempt to move over to make room, but he did gesture at the opposite, open side of his booth, and even moved his stuff off of the table top and onto the seat next to him.

"Not a pro'lem, Missy" he grinned wide, exposing a mouthful of bright white teeth, "Any excuse yah got would be better'n what I could come up with. Frankly, I'd appreciate the company, I would. Have a seat."

He was just about to introduce himself, when Lodestar made his appearance. The man still seemed a bit hopped up ... and he had just come over from the group with the suit. Still, Wailer figured it'd be best just to entertain and not to jump to conclusions. Quirking a fuzzy eyebrow to gauge Hot Wheels response, he nodded towards Lodestar with another simple grin.

"If it's a'ite with Wheels, here, I gather it's a'ite with me. Seems you folks're familiar with each other." Wailer lifted his mug and took a sizable draught before continuing, his eyes shifting towards the suit and the two others, then to the newest patrons. His gaze lingered, a bit too long, distracted by the high class elf in the pleated skirt and causing a few stray rivulets of beer to run down his chin. Coughing slightly, he set the mug on the table and dried his face. Somewhat flushed, he spoke quickly to cover his embarrassment.

"First the suit, now a U-Cass in full dress, got me a bit surprised is all," he apologized to the two at the table. "Anyway, folks, it's nice tah meetcha. Most ah mah chums call me Wailer, or D, fer Derrin. D's my name, Wailer's more what I do." He picked a well-loved harmonica out of his jacket's breast pocket with a pair of thick, calloused fingers for a moment before dropping it back in and patting it for good measure.

"So, uh," he chuckles, trying not to let his eyes flick back over towards the elf, "You folks chill here a lot?"

Hot Wheels scooter over as Lodestar sat down. she tilted her nearly empty glass at him and smiled "I don't think anyone would object to you buying a lady a drink. Of course you'd sit with her afterward" She wasgiving him an excuse to sit down without it looking like he was clearing out from the bar, and if someone else was buying the beer, it was no bad thing.
She was now between him and the dwarf but she figured the dwarf would see her as less of a threat. and if this should go south, she was better placed to drop behind the table.

"Of course." Lodestar catches a passing server. "A round for these good people, What, you got a pint there Hot Wheels? Wailer, what's your poison?"

After the drinks return, he turns back to 'Wheels "for you lady," Then to Wailer " and you good sir." He then leans back for a minute and closes his eyes. The noise in the establishment seem to intensify for a second, but he pushed it away. He was out of the line of fire now and could unwind. After a sip of the whiskey and soda. He sits forward and look to Wailer. The dwarf was probably as wound up as he was. Two old swords that have spent too long out of the scabbard that they couldn't rest anywhere. "No, this is the first time I've been here in a long while, thought that maybe I could get my mind off workin' for a moment."

Suddenly he glanced towards Hot Wheels and felt bad about the spot he put her in. Must be like sitting between two fuel tanks waiting for someonre to throw in a match. "Don't worry" he said appologetically, "I didn't come here lookin' for a fight."

Subject change time. "So what brings you two here? A wrench puller buddy of mine said something about you gettin some gravy job there 'Wheels. I thought you'd be up to your neck in work."

Lucky for me that flyer fluttered in behind me, Kim thinks since people seem to be captivated by his arrival. Not that she wanted to get all the attention, in fact she hoped not to draw attention to herself at all, but still ... She shakes her head in an attempt to clear her mind.

Only one suit, so that really put some restrictions to the choice. She noticed there wasn't a ring on the hand he drank with, which was good, but as far as she could tell he hadn't even looked at her. Kim went on considering the pro's and cons. It can't be a racial thing considering his company. Good. The company is awakened. Very bad. She came back on her first thought; no choice. He'll just have to do. Now for the approach. He didn't look. He seems cozy. Can't use spells to change his mind. Yep, she nods, I'll definitely have to move over there... aggressively.

Kim takes a sip of her drink, just to get the taste of it and confidently starts to saunter of in the general direction of Jyden. Showtime, she thinks and with a swig her glass is emptied. She puts one arm around Rheiv's neck and turns his head to face her. Just a moment passes in which they look into eachothers eyes, before Kim presses her lips against his.

What a fragging surprise. Thats the look in Rheiv's eyes when the woman pulls him aside, and they go wide when she actually goes for a kiss. The surprise is so great that it takes him a second or two to react, but he does, pushing the woman quickly away from him, "What the HELL!?" He pushes his coat to one side, his tactical sense going into overdrive as he takes a quick, covert, glance toward the elves, and then at his surroundings... well its seemed to be an isolated incident, but that doesn't simmer Rheiv down much, "You mind explaining yourself?" Rheiv says to Kim, as if he doesn't know her. "NOW?" His voice has all the tone of a competent combat leader dressing down someone who did something inconprehensably stupid.

(In astral space, I am a non-masking Initiate 1 Sea Shaman. What do you appear to be?)

The suit sure seemed surprised by the situation. Artemis was only surprised that his combat reflexes didn't trigger him to body flip the woman to the ground. Like everyone else, her eyes scanned all the establishment looking for a trap of some kind. Licing in the shadows was a dangerous business, often made people into nervous worrywarts. But if that's what kept you alive in the end then it was definitely worth it. She gave herself spell defense on the off chance that some unknown would attempt an area spell in here.

Jyden sure reacted to the young elf-maiden's advances. Artemis thought to herself that he was definitely not the type to depend on when one was trying to appear inconspicuous. Of course, reaching across for the patron beside you and giving them a kiss was slightly unusual too. Obviously they didn't know one another, at least from his reaction to her. The whole scene began to look somewhat embarrassing for the two of them, unless that young elf could turn it around somehow.

The staff of Reno's were already going ape-drek. Apparently someone had succeeded in waking the astral security of the bar as well. An elemental and an initiate mage now began to cycle through the patrons of the bar and point out auras eminating death and destruction, and in a few cases that of great love and compassion. The bouncers then proceeded to disarm all those who slipped by the entrance with weaponry and gave them threatening warnings to not try that kind of thing again. The hefty troll bouncers then continued to deposit the confiscated arms into lockers at the entrance, where people leaving the bar could retrieve them along with their swords and axes upon exiting. Watchers also began to wander amongst the people in the bar, ready to report back to their master(s) if other weaponry turned up or magic were cast.