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He only sat there in silence, minding his own business, although his fox ears weren't.They were pointed toward their side of trhe bar and listened, still having his earphones on.
Hayate laughed wholeheartedly. "Well, your job application is being processed on two variables. How drunk they are and how quickly my extra little ingredient starts working. I guess we'll just have to wait and see!"
The bar was bordering on over-full-ness, and the seat beside her luckily unoccupied. Drawing her legs up, she placed her feet firmly on the stool beside her, the Chii ears she wore flicking around slightly. She wasn't really... closed to company, but thought it safest, there being so many drunkards shoved into the small tavern.
Hika looked back to Hayate and smiled. "Well, give me the instructions once you're ready, elf boy." She giggled and openned her bottle, taking a sip.
ooc- ;P We so unactive.
((*pokes Hayate* Come on, slave! Post, you!))
Hayate nodded reassuringly. "I'll let you know." He started to glance around the room, checking out the new faces. He turns back to Hika. "How about a pint for everyone on me?"
((Ack..wrong button x.x))
Hika looked at him oddly. "How many glasses do you plan to have thrown at me? One was enough, you know."

((xD You ding dong.

And.. omg... Kairu is alive. Annah, better keep poking him with a stick.))
idiots.. he quietly thought to himself, tapping the counter quite annoyed at all their commotion. He sighed boredly, leaning on the stool.
"Don't worry, I'll take the glasses to them! I'm just trying to promote a little unity in here, that's all!" He proclaimed, striking a triumphant pose.
Hika laughed. "You fool. You're going to get KILLED." Smiling, she began pouring more into clean glasses; after all, it was his choice.
Manfred, standing a mere five foot nine, was never a tall man compared to others his age. Never tall, but looked up to in another way. He is two hundred, ten pounds and square; broad of shoulder, heavily muscled, though the dark, blood red baggy shirt he wears of a silky material hides it fairly well unless one is really looking. Dark brown hair of four or five inches long is gelled (or something) upward, and then back in a few thick spikes. The silver pinstripe vest he wears over his red shirt, as well as the pants of the same make are somewhat off setting, a rather thirties style, but he makes them look... handsome, as well as almost menacing at the same time if he levels you with his seemingly perpetual glare. On his hands are a pair of fingerless black leather gloves, and his feet are clad in black boots with thin souls and straps instead of laces. Tan skin shows wherever he is not clothed.

Manfred walks inside slowly, cradling the full face black helmet with tinted visor in the crook of his left arm. He glances around slowly, his glare as present as ever, though it's not exactly... aggressive, merely more a deterant. Even the 'big tough bikers' turn away. Most of them. The rest he glares down until they do. Shaking his head, he goes to a seat in a booth.
"Hika, darling, would I trouble you too much to ask for a glass of wine?" She smirked slightly, having overheard earlier conversations involving unpleasant substances.
Hayate begins taking glasses of beer to the various people in the room, receiving a multitude of nasty stares but continuing nonetheless. He takes an extra moment to talk to the bikers that he bought drinks for earlier. Apparently the laxative hasn't taken effect yet. Hayate returns and sits back on his barstool after giving everyone in the room a drink.

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