:: Olga raises a questioning eyebrow to her freakish companion and then to the slick willy at the bar. ::

"Uh, I think what she meant was, sounds interesting. Though Im curious as to why someone such as yourself would offer a guard duty job to complete strangers."

:: She winks at Ohanzee before continuing. ::

"Besideds, these are the types of jobs that are shopped out to known criminal elements, and we are all honest law abiding citizens here. I think you should have better discresion in your hiring practices, else you may wind up with lone star narcs or untrustworthy criminals guarding your precious goods."

They are sharp. This will work out perfectly.

Senate sets his beer on the bar, the half-smile never wavering.

"Why would I try to hire known criminal elements to guard something they're more likely to steal? I'm here seeking six well-trained and well-equipped honest, law abiding citizens, and it looks like tonight is my lucky night."

Boris leans back to observe the gathering of "guests". He snorts lightly in amusement at the young elf's apparent playfulness at a serious situation. Even more entertaining is her comrade's apparent discomfort with it. These are good people, and it has been long since he has seen their like. He quickly reminds himself that it is possible that any or all of them might have other motives for being here other than drink and talk. You have to be Russian to truly understand paranoia. There is good work available here, but it never comes cheap. "It is good that you comrades have found opportunity here. But I have had enough work for one night, and," He looks down to his empty glass, "enough drink." With that he shoulders his rain heavy coat, and holsters the heavy revolver.

"But if you need help, I will help comrades for reasonable price. You call."

With that he drops some nuyen on the table to cover the drinks, a crumpled piece of paper amongst them with a single commcode. He nods to Marcus, doffs his hat to the ladies, and with a slight pause at the doorway to adjust his coat, disappears into the drizzle of the Seattle morning.

Somewhere in the pre morning dawn the sound of rotorblades fading into the mist.

Ohanzee looks down into his glass, remaining silent. His lips get just a bit tighter and thinner, some tension could be seen on his face by a perceptive and attentive viewer. He completely ignores what has been said by the Johnson and waits for the situation to unfold, carefully watching the reactions of the other persons in the room and at the table.

Murphy seems to have tensioned too.
Away is his always predominant smile.
And pop goes the night...

He listens and watches everything silently, and as Boris stands up to leave, he nods a warm good-bye, and slips his card into the orcs trenchcoat. And another business skill, usefull in everyday life... he thinks with a slight frown. Take care of you... Comrade.

He eyes Ohanzee for a brief moment and nods in his direction, too. Whatever happens, I'll back you up.

He then proceeds to sip his drink and listen to the ladies doing business.

"Shall I take your silence to mean consent?"

Senate pauses to glance once at the hard faces now surrounding the table.

"Very well then. The task is nothing more than what I alluded to earlier: forty eight hours of guard duty. The location is a warehouse owned by my employers, the address is 10445 Industrial Park Way, Tacoma."

He pulls out an overhead surveillance still, a digital image twenty by twenty centimeters, and places it on the table.

"The warehouse is three stories tall, constructed of a double layer of construction polymer sheets on a steel I-beam frame. Pretty standard, really. There are two entrances to the building, both on the south side. One is a five meter wide garage door for loading and the second is for personnel. Both are secured via maglocks. You won't be required to enter the facility during your tour as guards, so you won't need passkeys to the locks. Surrounding the facility is a four meter tall chainlink fence, set back from it by five meters on the north, east, and west side. The southern side has a parking lot adjacent to the warehouse, so the fenceline extends out fifteen meters from the building. Entrance through the fence is via a sliding gate on the southern side. That is secured utilizing a keypad maglock. You will be given the code to this lock so that you can park your vehicles in the lot and admit any authorized personnel to the warehouse. In the northwest corner of the parking lot is a small pre-fab guard post for your use. It measures only five by five meters, but has a table, some chairs, and a cooler for water and food."

Senate's finger brushes across the flimsy, visually marking the features as he speaks.

"The duration of your employment will be from 1000 tomorrow, Wednesday, until 1000 Friday morning. As I indicated before, the job pays five thousand nuyen total. My employers stipulate that to indicate your agreement to the contract, you accept one fifth that payment up front."

He pauses to drink once more from his beer, before withdrawing a credstick and setting it on the table next to the flimsy.

"Do we have an agreement?"

I can watch people, I should be able to watch a warehouse. 5 grand are 5 grand...

"Tomorrow 1000, eh? I'm with you Mr.. But I /would/ need either a fast mechanic or someone who lends me a hike, since my favorite method of transportation said a rude 'good bye!' to me this night. Oh... And I don't take pay up front. It's just a... Pronciple. Sorry if it causes any inconvinience for you.."

:: Olga chews on the information provided. Sounds simple enough, though they must be expecting trouble to only need guard duty for a short window of time. ::

They never give you the info straight, do they?

"What kinda trouble are ya expecting?"

Ohanzee leans back in his chair and begins to speak. Slowly and calmly but very clearly.
"Alright, just to get things straight. The run pays five grand total. So that's 1000 nuyen for each of us and 200 up front. Or did you mean to say it pays five thousand nuyen for EACH of us? Also, I take it you are inspecting some attacks on the warehouse in those 48 hours or you have something very valuable on store during this time or both, otherwise you wouldn't hire people like us. I would like to know what we are guarding there or at least what we have to expect. And just for the protocol: I haven't agreed to anything yet."
That being said he takes a last sip and places the now empty glass back on the table, waiting for a response from the Johnson.

A turn, and a slight stretch as Marcus leans over the table a bit to look up at Senate.

"I'll accept. Limitations on gear and the amount of force that can be used on anyone tresspassing on the property?"

"My apologies for not being clearer, the pay offered is five thousand nuyen each. If you do not wish to accept partial payment up front, I will acknowledge a verbal contract as binding. My employers do not wish to disclose the exact nature of the items stored at the warehouse, suffice to say that they are non-hazardous by nature and consist mostly of small valuables of a personal nature. After the forty eight hours has transpired, they will be removed from the warehouse and taken to a more permanent storage location. As for opposition, I have not been briefed on a specific attack, rather just a general increase in the possibility of a punitive raid. From what I have seen in the past, you would at most be facing a dozen or so troublemakers from any one of the five local gangs that claim the area around the warehouse. My employers have placed no restriction on the gear or force level that you use to deal with any intruders, but I must emphasize that no damage must be done to the warehouse itself. Are there any further questions?"

Ohanzee gives a deep sigh and is lost in thoughts for a few seconds.
"Alright. I'm with you. Provided that all the other persons on this table also accept the job. If only one of them refuses, I'm out of it as well... Something light for a change might be nice."
It is obvious to see that he is already regretting his agreement.

:: Olga shrugs her massive shoulders and rumbles. ::

"Sounds like a peach. I'm in if Freak-girl is."

:: She winks to her furry companion. ::

:: Iblis quickly looked over the still and took some notes on her computer. Her eyes quickly took in the details. She paused as each person expressed their "concerns" about the job. She smiled upon hearing Olga's comment.::

"Well, since it looks like this is all the action I am going to get tonight, I'll take it. Where she goes I go."

:: Iblis nods her head towards Olga. The last part is said with fierce pride and friendship, clearly the troll means something to the Changling.::

Senate nods one last time, placing a thin black OMC on the table.

"This chip contains the code to the maglock on the gate, and the LTG number where you can reach me at. With any luck, the next time I'll see you will be 1000 on Friday morning. Until then."

Leaving a healthy tip on the bar, he straightens his coat, and disappears out the door.

[OOC] At lodestar's request I'm putting up a separate IC and OOC thread for this little job, just to keep the Open IC uncluttered. Feel free to post at your own rate.

:: Olga lets a respectable time elapse before polishing off her pitcher, wiping her maw with a heavy sleeve and nodding her head to Iblis as she collects the chip left by Senate. ::

"Come on shorty. We've got a job to prepare for."

:: Turning her attention to the table she smiles, a somewhat scary face with her gleaming tusks. ::

"See you gentsh in the mornin."

:: Heading out, she throws some paper money on the bar to cover the beer and the tip before disappearing out the narrow door. Her bike, a rather flashy affair, sits glistening in the rain. The midnight blue panels blend into the night leaving only the brightly polished chrome and the silver star decals to reflect the neon light of the pub and the sodium arc lights that dimly light the street. ::

:: Pulling her coat tight against the chill wind and rain, she straddles the bike as it roars to life. As Iblis exits the bar, Olga calls out to her. ::

"Meet at the Tacoma place. I've gotta run downstairs to get a few things."

:: With that, the bike lurches out into the night towards the Ork Underground entrance on 8th and Polk. Her stay there isn't long as she grabs her ready made [i]working[\i] duffel complete with her grenade launcher, her assualt rifle and all the ammo to feed them both. She also takes the time to trade her favorite leather jacket for the much more suitable Armored Jacked and her FormFit Full Suit. She also grabs the rain slicker she had forgotten when she had left earlier in the day. She wears the dark green slicker but shoves the armor in a second, smaller knapsack. ::

:: She tosses both bags in the detached sidecar sitting in her living room and the hefts it onto her hip and takes it out to her bike. About an hour of cursing and two small cuts later, the sidecar is attached and she takes her place on the bike once more. Now it's just a short drive to her safehouse in Tacoma, where her friend should hopefully already be waiting. ::

(( OOC...will continue posts in Warehouse Thread ))

:: Iblis gracefully takes to her feet, shouldering her bag on the way. She flashes the collection of men a brilliant smile with a wink.::

"I'm off to do a little leg work. Keep in touch."

:: With that she tosses down a card with an email address on one side and emblazoned on the other side "Action Decker....she's the Greatest!!".::

"Feel free to send me any questions you might have or a change in plans on your end."

:: She follows in the wake of her troll companion out into the crisp night air. She walks over to a Vespa scooter and hops on, pausing to nod to Olga when she calls out to meet at the Tacoma spot. She guns the engine and zips off into the darkness.::

OOC: Switching to the Warehouse Thread

"Bloody weather..."
Dr. Richard Sanchez trotted down the street as fast as his heavyset frame would carry him. He had been driving through town, on his way home from "work", when the electrical generator in his Peugeot blew and left him stranded. Now he was looking for shelter from the elements, so he might call for vehicle assistance.

The neon light that announced that the Burnt Magna was still open was all he needed. He stepped inside the establishment and shook off the cold rain as best he could.
"Ah...this is quaint," he muttered as he scanned the interior of the bar. He rested his raven's head cane against the wall as he shrugged off his Ulysses Line Longcoat, before draping it over his arm and grabbing his cane once more. Richard was a latino dwarf, slightly overweight. His hair is plastered to his head from the rain descending on the city. Only the rings on his fingers and a bizarre necklace of fine bone hinted at his hidden potential.
He walks over to the bar and stands on the footrail to allow him to peer over the bar and taps the beak of his cane on the bar.

As the bartender approaches, he smiles heartily. "Good evening, sir. Could I have an order of chicken wings, a pint of fine ale and a shot of rum delivered to that table over there?" he says, motioning to an empty table in a corner of the bar. With his order in place, he makes his way to the table, drapes his wet jacket over an adjacent chair and pulls out his cellphone to call for a tow truck.

"We'll get to you as soon as we can, sir," the man at the other end of the phone states. "There's been an accident downtown and we're still picking up the pieces. We can't guarantee a quick arrival."

It would be a long night...

Ohanzee saves all the info which has been laid down on the table to his headmem. These technical conveniences really make for a weak mind... I should get used to memorizing things again.

"Allright... I guess we have work to do... See you tomorrow Murphy. Take care."
Upon saying that Ohanzee goes to the bar to pay for his drinks with a very exact 15% tip and leaves, buttoning up his coat on the way. Outside, you can hear the heavy sound of a motorcycle starting up and roaring off into the night.

[OOC: continuing on to the Warehouse thread)

The chill January wind caressed Van's face as she stood on the street corner, far back from the fitful cone of sodium orange light cast by the streetlight. The block was a wreck in all directions, dirty and torn from years of abuse. She gave an elaborate sigh, pausing to settle her long coat about her shoulders, before moving out from the shelter of the shadows.

Van paused just inside the door of the Burnt Magna, her eyes adjusting instantaneously to the different light level. The warmth of the bar was a welcome embrace, and she kicked her boots against one another to rid them of slush from the street. Headed towards the bar, she'd gone only a couple of steps when a familiar voice reached out from her right.

"You're late."

Van smiled, supplying emotion to the words that the speaker was unwilling, or unable, to do. She shrugged, glancing at the lanky elf out of the corner of her eye.

"A woman is never late. She always arrives exactly when she means to."

Grendel stood, the smirk on his lips pulling the twin scars on his right cheek into jagged relief. He offered the other seat at the table to her, flicking his left hand towards the bartender.

"Whatever. Anything from the bar?"

"Sure. Nothing fruity, though." Van slid out of her longcoat, draping it over the chair, before curling herself into the seat. Her eyes, restless, tracked from wall to wall, details of the small bar archiving themselves in her mind. Grendel returned a minute later with the drinks, something vaguely green that tasted of mint but kicked like a 2nd degree black belt. Van wheezed, her eyes watering, and all traces of the cold outside erased.

"You said nothing fruity."

"I know, but I wasn't expecting something on the complete opposite end of the spectrum. What is it? And, more importantly, what's in it?" Van sipped carefully, noting with some glee that Grendel was equally cautious with his drink.

"It's called a Liquid Magna and I haven't yet pried the ingredients out of that cagey fellow behind the bar. It's sake based, I know that, but there's a couple of ingredients that I can't identify. I'm going to bring Spiral by next week so he can use that magic tongue of his and sort out the details."

Van chuckled, pushing her glass in small circles and glancing around the room again.

"How'd you find this place, anyway?"

"Well, I did some checking after our last darts place closed down, and ran across this place almost on accident. Seems the fire down the block wrecked a billiards/darts parlor that ended up on my list. Since I was in the neighborhood I decided to check this place out."

"Speaking of that, shall we get the game underway?"

Grendel nodded, offering her the darts. "Same rules as always, no trash, score until closed. Ladies first."

"You're such a gentleman," she replied, toeing the line. Grendel waited until she'd thrown her first two.

"Actually, I just like the view."

T.J. checked his watch, noting once again the condensation that had formed behind the quartz crystal glass. It was the third time he'd checked it on the street corner, the sodden cover of discarded news fax beneath his boots. It was sometime after oh-six-hundred. He shrugged deeper into the large jacket feeling the plastcore plates shift while trying to cover up that small exposed spot on the back of his neck. That spot between the twin matt black datajacks with their dull rubber dust plugs. The spot that was always cold in this weather. He thought momentarily of heading back to Yuzo's and finding a quiet spot to have a nap, but he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep. He reminded himself of the paint stink that permeated the place and some of his clothes. Maybe some downtime after the business of maintenance was done. The old Busman would need another coat of paint before he used it again, and Yuzo was still working on updating the transponder library. Still, Yuzo's little workshop was no place to relax, so T.J. took up his advice and went to look for a drink. Across the street a lonely lit lucite sign with its garish neon below seemed to promise it.

As he stepped through the door he caught his reflection in a triangular piece of the spiderwebbed security glass. Looking a little rough, he rubbed his chin and his reflection tested the stuble. Too many days on the road this time, he was sure his body was going to crater from an overdose of caffiene someday. He hoped there wasn't anyone that he might offend. Absently his hand moves for his hat in habitual motion for the hidden pack of export As, suprising himself at its absence. That's right, he was quitting. Filthy habit. He hoped noone else would be smoking, and his chances were good, there was only a few here.

He hoists his lanky frame up on a stool. "I'll have a beer." The only sound being the drone of an old trid set in the corner, and the low talk of a pair playing darts. It was early in the morning for some here, late at night for others. He belonged to the latter, and wondered about the rest of the patrons.

Richard dropped the last of his wings onto the plate of bones and lightly belched as he wiped his lips with a napkin.
“Those weren’t half bad…” he muttered, as he licked his fingers and wiped his hands clean.
He looked at his empty pint of ale before shifting his eyes to the shot of rum. Lifting the glass to his lips, he spoke softly in Spanish.
“To you Ghede. May the Loa shower providence unto me.”
The dwarf knocked back the shot and rose from his chair. He lifted his cane from the back of a chair at his table and walked over to the bar. He stepped up onto the footrail to peer over the lip of the bar. Repeating his previous procedure, he tapped the beak of the raven skull on his cane on the bar to attract the bartender’s attention.
“Could I get another pint, please?” Richard asked.
The bartender nodded and grabbed a clean glass from the rack.
Looking down the bar, a few stools over was a thin man nursing a beer of his own. By the look of him, he hadn’t seen a razor in a while and his time without a mattress might have been equally as long.
The man looked over at Richard, feeling the dwarf’s eyes on him. Richard smiled and nodded.
“Evenin’,” Richard said, “Rough night?”

"I said LEAVE ME ALONE," Scale roared with anger. He turned toward the source of his agitation. 3 gangers stood near the old man about five feet back. Behind them was a van turned sideways, a large orange pumpkin was painted on the side. 2 Orcs with SMGs crouched in the side of the van, laser sights pointing toward the shabby old man.

"Nothin doin Scale, nothing personal omae but Shaker says you die for helping Amy, and that means you die old man."

*I knew it, don't get involved I said.* I know I know, don't remind me, but her eyes Wyrm, her eyes were so innocent, I had to save her. *Well now save your self.*

Scale looked up at the gangers, weapons pointed at him, knives out, they intended to do him slow and painful. "I give you this one warning friend, walk a way now."

The gangers stopped there approach for a second, then they broke out laughing and charged him. Scale's appearance itself provoked the attack really. He looked exactly like he was, a 52 year old man who hadn't shaved in a week nor changed his clothes in the same time. A beat up old duster covered a thick brown sweater. His thinning hair hung loosely around his shoulders. He certainly didn't look dangerous.

Time slowed down for the old man, his eyes lit with a fire born of the meta planes. In his left hand he clutched a 8 inch long tooth as big around as a riffle. The tooth glowed with the same inner fire.

"I warned you," his voice took on an edge. The gangers opened fire. Bullets from the van door way spat through the air, following the laser precision of there sights. They impacted on an invisible barrier centimeters from Scales chest, ricocheting harmlessly away.

"He's a fraggin mage! run!." the first ganger, the one who had done all the talking cried as he turned to run. Scale reached out with his right hand and pointed his index finger at the fan. A thin line of fire burned through the air toward the van, between the smg wielding punks and stopped in the center of the van. There was a pause, then the van exploded in a gout of flames. The flame wreathed frame shot into the air end over end scattering shrapnel and bodies. The resulting crash demolished what was left.

Scale looked to the others, they were running now, full bore. He reached out again, the tooth in his hand glowed fiercely and another line of fire raced out in front of him. It stopped directly in front of the fleeing punks, then ignited. The three punks were vaporized as they screamed, burned to ash in an instant.

The flames died down and the street returned to silence. The falling rain sizzled as it quenched the collateral fires. Without a word Scale turned and walked away. Word would get back to Shaker, and he would either be left alone, or have to deal with the punk personally. After what Amy went through though the old man felt like paying the gang a visit in there crash.

A few blocks away the heat of the moment died down and Scale returned to his earlier gloomy mood. He stopped. Standing there in the rain, water dripping down from him he began to laugh. A body shaking roar.

*What’s so funny now?* The sign Wyrm, the sign, oh how I need a drink.

Scale walked through the door labeled appropriately, Burnt Magna.

The inside of the bar was just like every other the old man had seen in his life, they were home to folk like him. He stepped up and ordered a beer, nothing fancy for him. He had lost his taste for complicated years before. His eyes roamed, he checked the couple playing darts, noticed how they moved so precisely, so eloquently. They talked and laughed, but did not touch.

The two at the bar, the man with the smell of smoke about him, the dwarf with the smell of power. His hackles rose as the beer came, something about the dwarf...

*He's a shaman I bet, I can feel his power, look at him in the place and you will see it as well.* I’ve told you before, Wyrm. It's rude. Besides we won't be here that long, dinner and a drink soka?" Scale felt like he had just been given the cold shoulder, he could feel Wyrm retreat and he considered the silence his answer.

"Add a steak to that omae if you can, well done, the darker the better."

"It has been long week, mon ami. Notin' but Jos Louis for eat an' sister steering wheel for pillow." T.J. Grins at the dwarf, and catches his accent again. He could hide it well, and sometimes he needed to, but in a moment of relaxation he had slipped into "that bastardized half talk" as Yuzo called it. Like his english was any better. Japanese was more common in this part of the world, but that was no excuse. "and you? You no look like you here belong." He fumbled with his hand for words like he could pluck them out of the air. Stupid anglo. "That's not what I mean, what I say this doesn't look like it was your intended destination, eh? He gestures broadly about the bar, and looks then looks pointedly towards the dwarf. "One make many stange aquaintences in an establishment such as this at this time in the morning, no?"

Richard laughed. "No, this wasn't my intended destination. I suppose it's all I deserve for buying a Peugeot, but my car broke down about a block or so from here and this place seemed like a good place for shelter."
The bartender returned with his new pint and Richard lifted off the bar and tipped the glass up to his mouth.
After a contented sigh, he continued, "Strange acquaintances make life far more interesting, as far as I'm concerned. I've met some interesting folks through my line of work. Forgive me for asking, but your accent...whereabouts do you hail from?"

The steak doesn't take long to arrive, the outside charred black by flame. Scale nods his thanks to the man before picking up his steak and beer and finding a table next to the dart table. Every time Van scores Scale lets out a snort of laughter. Seemingly in his way cheering for the girl. His beer doesn't last long and he orders another.

"This night isn't turning out too bad after all," he says aloud.

"You mean today?" T.J. smiles and wags a finger at the dwarf. "That I no tell. But I grow up someplace near Montreal." He takes another drink, the beer will have to last a while. "And yourself friend dwarf?"

"I'm nothing special. Grew up in Detroit, though my family hails from what was Southern Mexico, just outside of Oaxaca."
Richard dismissively waved. "My history isn't overly interesting."
Taking another swallow of his beer, Richard pulled himself up onto one of the stools and rested his cane on the edge of the bar.
"So, you are in the freight industry, yes?"

The conversations between people in the bar makes Scale think back to a time before, a time when he surrounded himself with friends.

Nock it off Wyrm, I know, I know. I miss her to. helluva time to be thinking about her.

Scale stands up and walks to the head of the bar, reaching into his pockets he digs out a wad of crumpled nuyen and dumps in on the bar. He then rings the bell that has been in every bar for the last 200 years.

"I'm feeling social tonight people, take advantage of it."

Grendel took the darts from Van, the bulk of his body shielding her from view for a moment.

"I think he likes you."

Van coughs in sudden surprise, her eyes seeking the bar.

"Oh please, he's old...well, he is kinda cute. Think he has any money?"

"Not if he's hanging around this place. Why, were you planning on trying to give him a heart attack?" Grendel glanced back over his shoulder before returning his concentration to the game.

"Maaaaaaaaybe." Van smiled wickedly.

"Slut."

"Oh, I love it when you talk dirty."

After finishing his last drink, Scale takes on look around to the gathered people, smiles politely at Van, and then heads out into the darkness. Standing outside the rain falling on him, soaking through his clothes he smiles for a moment. Takes in a deep breath, and starts walking away.

T.J. Pauses in the conversation with the dwarf to watch the old man's intereaction with the couple. Another man's woman was always trouble, but this was a trouble of a different kind in a place like this. Suddenly he became painfully aware of the weight in his right pocket as there was tension in the air thick to cut with a knife. Then as it coalesced, it evaporated. T.J. watched with a nod to the old man as he passed out into the rain, and T.J. pushed the thought of jumping behind the bar for cover out of his mind. He hated using the gun, he wasn't very good with it and it wasn't his style. It was difficult unwinding riding the endless wakefulness of the caffiene pills. He turns his attention back to the dwarf. "You might be say that."

"And you? You be an long way from Detroit, This would not be first place I pick if I were tourist types." then with a wink he adds" Driving Peugeot especially."

"I've been out of Detroit for a while now," Richard said. "I came here looking for work and I figured Seattle would be the perfect place."
He took another sip of his beer before realizing, he should probably explain further for his statement to make much sense.
"I'm a coroner and there's no shortage of work in my field, in this city. Doesn't stop Lone Star from outsourcing some forensics stuff to me though. Mostly magic related deaths...I guess they must have a shortage of magicians in their forensics lab. Just wish they'd pay me for it...Bastardos baratos..." Richard muttered as he raised his glass to his lips again.

<OOC: I never learned Spanish and I'm using free online translations. My apologies to fluent Spanish speakers for any travesties I might perform on the language. >

Grendel cocked his head to the side, holding his throw for a moment. It was the only outside indication that his headware was active. Van recognized it instantly, misreading the tension in his frame as a warning from his network. Her hands went to the weapons concealed beneath her coat on the chair, eyes and ears accessing the full spectrum they were capable of. When Grendel continued the game, she relaxed minutely, pitching her voice to carrry no further than him.

"What's up?"

"Nothing important, just a bellringer from Zoe that she might have something for me. I'll have to head out after this game, though. Can I give you a lift somewhere?" The tall elf handed her the darts, his expression unreadable.

"Sure, I'll roll with you." Van toed the line, her body still burning with adrenaline. It didn't keep her from closing out bulls, putting her up by twenty to win the game. Grendel shook his head. She smiled, slipping the long coat over her shoulders again. Pausing by the front door, Van glanced back at the elf, reading his slight nod as an all clear signal. She knew he would have checked the network feeds, making sure no one was prepping a surprise for them as they exited the bar. Together they slid out into the rain, disappearing into the shadows.

Pulse stepps through the doorway, shaking the rain off his floor length blackleather coat. The flaps opening momentarily revealing a Manhunter at his hip. "Oi! It's raining out there mates. Good thing fer me I found this pub." The somewhat loud elf walks over to the bar, sitting down next to the two patrons that are already there.

"Barkeep, a pint of liquid-gold 'n' some fries 'k." Pulse reaches behind him and pulls his long black hair into a tight pony tail revealing hi pointed ears.

"G'day mates, what brings you out 'n' weather like this, crikey, it ain't fit for man nor beast out there." While talking he gestures wildly with his hands. Pointing at the door, the bar, the dwarf.

Pulling over to the side of the road letting the engine die before pulling out the keys. Issy sits in the for a moment before a growel in her stomach reminds why she stopped. Sighing she reaches across and grabs her bag from the passenger seat.

Five seconds Issy she say's to herself as she checks for traffic.
"3, 2, 1,...."

Slamming through the door of the bar Issy stands there for a second, looking at the water dripping off her 6' frame and running down her bare arms and legs she realise's what a state she must look in her football (soccer) stripe.

" Washroom?" She asks, looking up at the barkeep

Heading past the dartsboard she dissappears, only to reappear 7 minutes later looking dry and wearing tight jeans with a loose white jumper and her blond hair tied behind her head and ears.

Walking up to the bar she puts her bag down, and after a quick glance at what passes as the menu board, she gets the barkeeps attentsion.
"Large bowl of fries and something non alcoholic with sugar" In good clear (but accented) English.

Reaching down to her bag she pulls out a cred stick and book 1.5" thick on something to do about "Sec..... ....dbook" Opens it to a marked page and begins reading.

Looking up as her fries arrive, she spots whats she looking for by the Elf (Pulse). Leaning forward to get his attension "Excuse me sir, could you pass me the sauce's please? Thank you" With a smile that doesn't quite look right.

"Oi," Pulse exclaims as the tall blond walks past him, when she enter the bathroom he turns to the two beside him, "she's a sturdy lookin' sheila eh," he takes a swig of his beer, and dabs a few fries. When she comes back out and asks for the sauce, "G'day, your a spiffy lookin conch are yeah? Have a name, mines Pulse," he says and holds out his hand.

Looking somewhat confused "Issy, Erm whats conch mean?" Offering her hand in return after wiping it on a napkin.

Pulse grins a scoundrels smile when asked, "it means sophisticated, smart, intelligent. Me, I am an ocker, no book sens et all. Just me and my kelpie to get through life, a poor lass, she was a good bitzer." The strang utterances of words flow from his mouth not stop as he speaks. He turns and downs the last of his beer, "oi bartender, 'nother pint." turning back to Issy, "so what brings you out on a doom and gloom like this?"

Richard looks over at the boisterous Aussie and is about to address him when Issy walks in. As Pulse's attention is drawn to the woman, any attempt at conversation seems futile.
Silently, Richard tips up his glass and finishes off his beer.
When Issy returns, Richard listens to the pair's banter back and forth, trying his best to comprehend the elf's slang. After a while he laughs and shakes his head, giving up on trying understand the man.
Rapping his cane on the bartop, he smiles at the bartender. "I guess you'd better give me one more, but no more after that...I have to work tomorrow."

"The same 'ere en?" T.J. turns to the dwarf. "That one I buy it for you."

He watches amused at the elf's banter with the mademoiselle, the more things change, the more they stay the same. There wasn't much more for him here, and he doubted that even another beer would let him catch some shut eye. There was that resigned feeling of having to pay the piper sometime.

"I should be getting back too, before I stay here until next Tuesday. The sleep she come down like hammer."

He smiles as the last beer for the night arrives and raises it to the dwarf. "To stayin busy, en?"

Going slightly red in the face "Thank you! but Doom and gloom???" In fluent german "Trauriges Englisch ist nicht meine erste Sprache. Your words are strange"
Then her eyes widen as she realise's what you meant.

"Oh! you mean the weather no?" Her face going a little redder. Closing up her book after marking the page, you get to see the full title Security Handbook, Design and Applications, Vol 3- Physical sercurity "I finnish at the.. University? early, I like to drive, so i thought i would look at some of the place's that my teacher mentioned and this is one, No?" at this point she shows you a piece of paper with 3-4 names of places that are runner haunts.

"So here i am. I was hungery as well so i hoped i could get some food." As she finnishes she pick up another fry and eats it.

"Oi girl, then you need some real food, not chips. Bartender," he says turning to the man behind the bat, "to bucks, bloody, and 2 pints for the sheila and me." He turns back a self satisfying smile, "I gather your not from around here girl, neither am I, well any port in a storm, soka?"

Pulse stands up sweeping up Issy's book, fries and drink and heading toward a back table. "More cozy then the bar and we wont look like bludger."

Pulse puts the drinks and food on the table, shruggin his shoulders his Ulysses great coat and tossing it onto the far side. The elf's is in incredible shape, with several leather straps ending in pistols, wrapped around his waist, shoulders, and hip.

"Never can be to careful," he slides into the booth, picking up the book and turning to the bookmarked page, "Oi, physical security, you looking at be'n a wheel dog?"

Sitting there stunned as she's left holding a fry just about to drip with mayo. She quickly eats the fry, and grabs her bag and head to the booth with pulse.

"No, i am not from around here. My parents sent me to Seattle because the are wanting me to be a doctor just like them. But medical things are just so not fun. no?"

- Berating herself, Be carefull Issy, you don't even know him

Seeming confused at pulse's question about the book she take a second or 2 before she answers somewhat unsure "I am wanting to get top marks for my test and.... Doing it? is better than just reading books no?"

Leaning a little closer she quitley say's " Are you aloud to have that many guns in this country?"

Richard scooped up his pint and raised it in a mirrored gesture of T.J.'s.
"To keeping busy."
Richard knocked back a third of his pint before taking a breath.
"Good luck with your hauling. Hopefully, business stays fruitful for you. Oh, and if you ever need a dose of Long Haul to keep you up for those long trips, stop by the 7th street morgue where I work. I'm legally allowed to write up prescriptions... didn't always work on the dead, though for the most part, the dead are preferable patients." Richard said with a smirk and a wink.

"What, here, in the land 'o' the free 'n' the home 'o' the brave," he snorts, "not when you have enough cred I say. Guns are what I do. So I pay to make sure the coppers don't have to bother me." The food arrives, the steaks are well cooked and smell delicious, Pulse dives into his slicing it up in small chunks, and then eating them one at a time. Each one is followed by a long pull from the pint of beer. "Blog in, you need to keep up your health for all that studying you do. And who knows you might get a chance at the real thing. What exactly is it that you want to do Issy?"

Pausing as she thinks about the question. " I am wanting to get first hand.. knowledge? of how place security works. So when i pass my tests i know what it like from both sides?" Starting to eat her food slowly, you notice that something is playing in her mind. Finnishing her mouth full she continues.

"I have been studing for 2 years now, (This you find a bit surprising since issy looks no older than 21) and i think that to learn more I need to... test what i have learnt? You understand yes? So i is wanting to join a..... " pausing to think "I am sorry what would be the right word?" Taking another mouth full and washing it down with more coke.

"What is that saying that the english have? Actions speak louder than words?"

"Wello. wello, wello, your looking for job it is eh? Well I think you came to the right place. A friend 'o' mine says that a bloke will be in here soon looking for runners to do less than legal work. All we have to do is sit and wait. Had I known the company would be so grand, I would have been here hours ago." Pulse shifts in his seat, a sincere smile on his face as he finishes of his steak. "Of course, it could be a few days before he shows. So, how long you been in the states?"

Again finnishing her food before speaking "I've not lived here that long, only 2 months. I came to start my course at the end of the summer"

After eating some more food she continues " So what about you? Is Pulse is that a.. your real name?

OOC: Pulse shits in his seat? I hope that's a typo or some aussie slang I'm not familiar with.