A run-down little pub on the corner of Hawthorne and Menard; a haven for the plethora of unsavory beasts which roam the streets at night built for the purpose of generating a casual RP environment through which patrons may come and go as they please.
This is not a storyline based establishment. Time waits for no man. Walk-ins encouraged.
If I'm not around, I don't know what to tell you until I get some employees up in this b***h. I have a life so. ******** off.
Open: Online Closed: Offline
Them's the breaks, kids.
[. He'd worked very quickly, than none could deny. Perhaps too quickly. A sullen hush had fallen over the innards of his newly established little slice of land save the low thud of footfall and the constant scrape of stool foot over hardwood flooring as he arranged and re-arranged, stopping only when every seat was aligned perfectly with the bar. It was only a matter of time until some hapless soul wandered in through his door, and he'd made a silent vow to be on his best behavior with the patrons, which meant he'd need to refrain from eating them. A difficult task, but he'd make due.
Deadened gaze swept the scene before he moved to stand behind the bar, elbows coming to rest upon the finished cherry wood surface so that he could rest his chin comfortably atop overlapped hands; his tail whipping to and fro of its own accord behind him. Patience had never been his strong point, but Julian had no choice but to simply wait. ]
The scent of roses would perforate the air around her, thick and strong and nearly palpable as it roiled in natural waves from her every pore, stinking of lust and begging for her every need to be quenched by someone. Anyone. Not that it was very likely, after all Scarlett wasn't out and about this night to hunt and feed, merely to escape the deafening quiet of her empty house in the woods.
Red hair was curled into neat, tight ringlets that flowed from the crown of her head to the middle of her back, green eyes were flagged with kohl, and her slender body was incased in a knee length black pencil skirt made of the finest material, a white silk blouse left open to show a classy amount of cleavage at the top, accessorized with a bright red ascot about her graceful throat. Red heels clicked along the pavement, cherry colored lips curved into a smile, and a black peacoat swirled about her knees to fight off the mid-winters chill.
The door swung open before her, possibly of its own accord, and Scarlett stepped into the pub with a short nod of approval at the inner warmth and the general atmosphere, glad for the change of pace. From the feel of the joint it was a rather new establishment amongst the throngs of other thriving businesses, but she wasn't one to complain, often the newer places were the ones to find the most interesting of people. Or the most bored. Depended on the day, really. After all, she once knew one such chap that every time he found himself bored with life he would create a new place of business that would often pulse with life then die over a few short weeks. Of course, she had made due to visit each new establishment, moving on with the rest of the crowd when entertainment ran short.
She moved to the counter, slid onto one of the stools and began the process of pressing the buttons of her coat through their openings until the jacket fell open about her small frame, and she shrugged it off and laid it about her lap.
[. She wasn't easy to miss.The only other creature within the building, living or otherwise. Even if he'd been standing with his back to the door and his eyes closed, that sickly sweet scent filled the air and crowded his nostrils. Roses- he'd never cared for them. A shudder ran the length of his spine and sent his tail a'quivering, devoid gaze following her movements from the moment she entered until the moment she sat whereupon he side-stepped to stand directly across, sliding elbows along the glossy bar top instead of lifting them. ]
"Evenin', lil' sister. Care for a drink?"
[. With a tip of his left horn, Julian motioned to the shelves laden with various alcohols behind him. of course he served nothing else. He'd no knack for cooking food and no real interest in dealing with the hassle, but drinks he was content to mix all night. .]
"How lucky you must be- you get the pick'a th' litter."
A slender brow lifted above her eye in a delicate, graceful arch to show her curiosity at this man’s actions, his casual slouch against the counter and the somewhat western way he had of speaking, though she wasn’t all to fond of being referred to as “little sister”. Scarlett cleared her throat, and with the simple gesture the scent of roses vanished as quickly as it had come, one bare elbow moving to lightly rest on the very edge of the bar counter. “I wouldn’t consider it luck, per se. Tell me, monsieur, what is your wine selection looking like?” She asked, her head tilting to the side as she gazed at the rows and rows of alcohols behind the counter, her French accent purring through her voice in a delicate cadence.
"Well, what kin' are ya lookin' for? White, Red? Rosé, Dessert? I know this ain't no classy lookin' place, but I got a cellar and an inventory I'm itchin' to get rid of. Can't say I assumed a wine would be the first bottle I crack open, that's fer sure."
[. As if he'd made a joke, Julian chuckled and straightened at the spine only to pluck a wine glass from beneath the counter by the stem and set it upon a napkin in front of the woman. There, he'd wait for her response in order to continue. ]
“Well, if you have something stronger that you’d rather ‘crack open’, I would be up for that as well, or down… Whatever the correct slang term would be.” She replied nonchalantly, adjusting the coat draped about her lap before pulling it off entirely and dropping it on the stool next to her instead. “If not, red. And old.” She nodded once to confirm the order that she had placed, her elbow returning to lightly graze the counter, chin dropping neatly into her open palm.
[. Fingers snapped and without a sound further he strode from behind the bar to a door which looked vaguely like an old pantry though opening it revealed the staircase that lead into the cellar. Down he went with a trot for a few long moments before returning with a bottle in hand; green of glass and nearly black of liquid wrapped in a label of old parchment marked with faded ink scrawl. ]
"Here we go, red an' old. How's a '47 Château Latour sound? "
[. He asked, holding the bottle up for her inspection as he returned to his place behind the counter. ]
Letty watched with half a smirk as he turned on his heel and moved through a door and out of sight, and she took the time that he was gone to peer around the room once more, appraising its appeal. A moment later, however, her host was back holding up a lovely vintage bottle with a label she hadn’t seen in years, and she sighed with an approving sound. “Your selection knows how to speak to an old woman’s heart.” She murmured her, fingers twitching with want towards the glass that was perched so neatly on the napkin before her.
[. Again he chuckled, uncorking the bottle with ease. ]
"Lucky guess, is all."
[. There were few things he knew about wines, but one of them was that the bottles, once opened, needed to be allowed to breath. Julian set the bottle down for a moment and lifted the glass to the light, scanning it for any smudge or other imperfection for a moment before he tipped it to the side, lifted the bottle again, and poured. Once he'd filled the glass, he set it back down atop the napkin and re-corked the bottle. ]
"There you go. So tell me, what brings you 'round here? Not that I'm complainin', mind you. Only curious."
“There must be an abundance of luck going around today.” Scarlett commented, her nose twitching as the scent of the wine hit the air with the pop of the cork being released, and she nearly hummed with pleasure as her tongue flattened against the roof of her mouth until it had properly breathed, and was poured. She lifted the glass to her lips, a graceful pucker kissing off the edge of the glass before it was lowered with a soft sigh through her nose. It was a delicious vintage, to be sure. “I needed to escape the day to day quiet of domestic life.” She said with a shrug, nothing overly exciting. Then again, she rarely did anything exciting these days, minus the occasional hunt, but even that was growing dull. What was a succubus without her predatory instincts?