[ The One Night Stand - Lit. Walk-in ]

[Curious Red]

ωιnnιfяє∂ & ѕєℓєnє

❝ι мαу nσt яємємвєя ωнσ уσυ αяє, вυt му нєαяt αcкєѕ fσя уσυя ℓσνє....❞


❥ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Winnifred had lost his scent days ago, that one last real thing she had of him to hold onto aside from her dreams. She was desperately searching, she had to find it again.. She ha to find him... Who he was, she couldn't remember. She had met many other who had seen him; therefore she knew her dream was really. But, nothing but his image, and that lingering scent she was following was all she had left of him. She had to know who he was... Everyone said, he had mentioned her, some even said he was looking for her. But why? Why would anyone be looking for her?

The feline sighed, her sightless eyes traveled down feeling the small hand in her own. Perhaps things would become more clear if she could just find him. "Are you sure that is is where his scent leads mother?" The child's soft voice reached the feline's keen ears. "This place doesn't feel safe...." A weak smile came to her face, trying as hard as she could to give her daughter a comforting look. "Don't worry Selene, everything will be fine.." Winnifred's words were comforting, but she hardly believed them. She hated lying to her daughter like this, she hated putting her her little girl through this. Traveling all over, following this scent.... she didn't even know who it was going to lead them to..

The small child lead her mother into the building, the older felines eyes looked over the walls, but saw nothing as the child lead her over to the bar; looking around the room.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ❥

❝...ωιℓℓ cяу fσя мє, αѕ ι ℓσєѕ му ѕαиιту?❞

Location: The One Night Stand
Company: None
Color References: Winnifred, Selene

[We Could Be Villains]

☇ ☇ xxxxxxxxxShe can’t see the landscape anymore;
▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀ ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀ ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxIt’s all painted in her grief. . .

Ҟɨȿϻҿϯ ✦ Ƚȃҽϯ ✦ Ѷҽɍҽȃʊӽ






It was getting rather late for the fledgling. Though the two had only spoken briefly, it felt like weeks had passed, and a small yearning was starting to form in regards to the sleeping Knight upstairs. Maybe she missed him more than had once been acceptable, now that he was what little she had in this world. “Opportunity is only what you make of it.” The Faerie offered a genial smile, as though posing for a catalog cover, with her emerald stare planted firmly on Adon. “It’s never too late to start looking for what you wish to find.” Raising her glass, Kismet polished off the remnants of her drink and straightened her posture so not to slouch. Despite the constant thought of how one might look to others, the fledgling could usually ignore the idea of vanity in favor of pursuing whatever curious endeavor she had taken part in. Even now, she fixed her posture not for show, but to assure in a moment, she would be able to stand. Preparations for her great departure.

“I don’t know how free his services happen to be.” Admitted the girl as her body rose, long legs straight and lengthy blond hair fluttering down her back. “I owe him though, and I’m sure his fee will be hefty, if he can provide me with everything expected.” Though even she didn’t know what to expect. Information on Chance Arden could be anything, from an address to a phone number, to even where she was this very night. The fae could speculate all she wanted on the subject, but until Silky gave her anything, she wouldn’t know. Still, there was time, and as per usual, Kismet spent most of hers attempting to capture the attention of one wayward family member. “But maybe we can speak of this another time. I should really be going…” She motioned upwards with a tilt of her head, again managing to beam that soft radiance his way as she fussed over how her clothes lay. “Until then, take care, Adon.” And with much effort, he received just his surname, without any trailing titles the girl may have added otherwise. Reynald had been teaching her the best way to address others.

Though after having said that, Kismet meandered away, off to the stairwell and presumably upwards to the rented room she shared with her ancient Knight.










↘ ↘ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇
ALL OF HER HISTORY ETCHED OUT AT HER FEET XX ALL OF HER HISTORY ETCHED OUT AT HER FEET
ALL OF HER HISTORY ETCHED OUT AT HER FEET XX ALL OF HER HISTORY ETCHED OUT AT HER FEET
ALL OF HER HISTORY ETCHED OUT AT HER FEET XX ALL OF HER HISTORY ETCHED OUT AT HER FEET
ALL OF HER HISTORY ETCHED OUT AT HER FEET XX ALL OF HER HISTORY ETCHED OUT AT HER FEET

[Mystical Villain]

◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦▀ ■ ■ ▄◦ ◦ＡＤＯＮ xＶＡＬxＶＥＲＥＡＵＸ◦ ◦▄ ■ ■ ▀◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦

┏┅┉┉⋯⋯⋯┉┉┅┓
◦ xThe b*****dx ◦
┗┅┉┉⋯⋯⋯┉┉┅┛

The road to you is long


and I've been on it for a while...

True, the two had talked little in the course of the evening, barely an hour had to have gone by. Yet, their discourse felt like an eternity in retrospect. Perhaps this would be the reason for Adon letting an otherwise perfect specimen for his aggression and deep seeded devilish desires. Be it any other girl, he likely would jump at the opportunity, but Kismet, in all of her innocent Fae ways he couldn't bring himself to taint the lass. Too much effort, far too risky, for one as weak as him it was not worth the danger involved. As with Des, this fish would be let go to be caught at a later date.

The two were like a pair of models indeed, and were there a photographer around, or perhaps a certain stalker of the Fae race, they would take several snapshots to add to a catalog of some sort. Each were beautiful in their own regard, Kismet in a more bubbly and graceful manner, her brilliant emerald orbs showing nothing but hope for the future and those blond locks seeming to be softer than the air itself. The way she held her form gave off the impression of a delicate, but still thorny rose. Adon on the other hand, came off as cold as ice, perhaps so cold that you just might cut yourself upon trying to touch him. His eyes, of an equally vibrant green, shone with a luminosity more fitting a nightclub, and right now he appeared as though to not care about how others perceived him at all, slightly slouching and letting unfitting sighs escape him."If Silky is after something that you can provide that no other can, then believe me when I say he'll find a way to get what it is that you need. I just hope his 'fee' isn't too steep." Hah, and so help her if such was the case. Opportunity and taking advantage of the limitless time they had were important factors in the lives of the Fae, and true, Adon hasn't jumped in on what he should have as of yet, but then that was him just being stubborn.

Thus she rose, a conversation ended and some relief probably given to the two, for the male, a respite from the boundless innocence and for the girl, a chance to meet up with her knight once more. "Farewell, my dear, sweet Kismet Vereaux." As she vanished up the stairs, the snow topped male would let a slow quiet chuckle come out of his throat. What a drag, luck did not come his way often as of late in comparison to how often the odds seemed to be against him. Whatever, the Vereaux male would carry on as he was, no matter the situation. So for now he remained leaning against the counter in a dull bar in the middle of some forgotten ocean-side city, serving drinks to metas of all kinds of whom he often could give not a ******** about.

◤Place : The ONS - behind the counter◢
◤Mood : :3◢
◤With : Kismet◢

тɧιs ιs ℓιғє.
ɪt's α тєst.
ɪt's α ɢαmє.
םιɗ yσυ ραss?

[Trexasle]

Name: Aarin De Silva

His meddling has become a bother, so maybe it was time for the male to finally take a bit of action.

De Silva looked beyond the sight of his cowboy hat at the bar and raised his eyebrow, a few of his men in tow. It was also good to have a few bodies on your side after all, especially when you have the resources to waste them anyway. Seems that the bar was exactly what he expected it to be: A gooddamned dump.

The scent was ruining his ears and causing him to nearly vomit, this bar barely qualified as a dive in his eyes, taking a looking at the bar he blinked staring at the ghastly sight of it. Maybe it was hard for the normal humans to see, but he could see every speck of grime and grease on the chair, and it instantly turned him off from the sight of it. He took his fingers and snapped them, the tuxedo wearing mooks now moved toward the seat and began to clear it off, spraying a bit of disinfectant on said seat, before eventually being graceful enough to leave a seat cover for De Silva to sit on.

Damned Peasants, have they ever heard of cleanliness?

Then again, they’re friends of a thunderchild, no doubt they have the same careless manner than that waste. He reached into his pocket, dug through and took out a box of cigarettes, Valquero cherries. The scent was always a bit calming to him, even if the actual smoke did nothing for him other than make the room smell good. This place honestly needed the faux air freshener. It reeked up elven and demon blood, then again it was exactly what he expected from the Thunderchild Leon. His friends seemed like the type that were of the….unsavory variety. The blue haired male gave a tilt to his hat, pushed up his sunglasses snapped his fingers again.

While his mooks passed his todays paper.

[We Could Be Villains]

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▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ xxxxxxxxxxxxxx Errol Capland - Resident Bartender xxxxxxxxxxxx«
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✖ Like the water when the sea got rough,
She was bored with the breeze, she was bored of her luck.
The winner and the loser told the fallen priest;
"That's a cold, cold place in the arms of a thief"

Quiet. That’s the only way to describe how the bar had been the past few weeks, save for a scarce conversation or two had by patrons. Errol didn’t mind the quiet; her issues were large and difficult to assess without space, so the thought of actually having to work in that time period wasn’t exactly welcomed. Still, here she sat, with a scotch on the rocks in one hand, her pale lips tightly closed in something of a pursed expression. Beyond the lingering haze of cigarette smoke, and the various stains blanketing the surfaces of the floor and furniture, the albino made out the creaking movement of the entrance. Staying as still as a statue, the girl waited briefly as the stranger entered, evaluating her current company with a few slow blinks of maroon hues – trying to associate the male to anyone she might know through the usual patrons.

Of course, she didn’t recognize him. Even if she had, what did it matter? Flicking a collection of ash into a neighboring ashtray, the bartender straightened her posture from the usual slouch and took a deep breath. “Need anything?” The obvious question, which could be translated to, ‘Order something because I’m bored, thus willing to serve you’. She looked calm, content in her position – yet something behind those odd blood stained oculars spelled out a different reality entirely. “A drink?”









♛ --------- And holding everything he made her steal,
She said, "Leave me alone, but just d o n ' txl e a v exm e here, all right?"

[Trexasle]

Name: Aarin De Silva

“A drink…” The man scoffed, seeming almost offended by her asking that question. Certainly he wouldn’t take a drink from this place, not with how absolutely filthy it was. Meh, maybe it would be good to entertain her, besides with a place this rickity looking, the wine could’ve been aged to a somewhat normal amount, so it was worth a shot to at least entertain her. The Plant born smiled at the female and chuckled. “Well I don’t see why not, a glass of wine if you will, your finest in age.” He kept his eyes on his men, they were ready to attack if Aarin did not get the information he wanted. Bloodshed however, was not something that Aarin himself wanted to deal with. He was a clean guy and preffered things to happen without casualties. It leaves too much to clean, which leads to questions being asked, which lead to suspicion.

“Also a bit of information.”

One of his men handed him what seemed to be a small rectangular pad, with a small screen in front of it. Aarin himself placed it on the bar table, pressed a button generating a hologram. “I am looking for a man who called himself Leontias Metalliene.” The generated image revealed Leon, the same black haired, one eyed male that she had managed to kiss during His flub up with his Bard Magic. Once the holopad as it was called generated the image of Leon, the male began to tap his fingers on the table. She didn’t have to tell him anything. He felt that he was here, his presence along with his blood was still around here. The male ruffled his curtained navy blue hair, and took the cigarette out of his mouth. “We’ve have…our suspicions that he was here before, the man has a 14'000'000 Linket bounty on him, taking intergalatic currency into amount that's...about....17 Million In Gaian gold.”

[Alien Noir]

: : H O L L O W G R A P H I C : :

All I want is a place to call my own . . .

Lexa approached the bar and lowered her scarf from her face. It had been a long night and it was time to treat herself. She pushed through the doors and made her way through, though it didn't appear to be that busy. Perfect.

As she made her way to the bar, she fiddled with her gloves and decided on a seat nearest to the wall and waited patiently to be serviced.

. . . to mend the hearts of everyone who feels alone.

[The Prophets Harbinger]

This place was a wreck. Well, a bit of a hole in the wall. A wreck and a hole in the wall were two entirely different things, each charming in its own special little way. Unfortunately this appeared to be lacking in the aforementioned charm, of either variety. Amber eyes scanned the door before him, moments after a hand hesitantly gripped whatever handle sat there and pulled the door open. With his luck he'd be like to get a bullet or a blade somewhere upside the head and they'd be serving Raven-pie for their next meal. The seemingly apprehensive young man entering the room had a thick head of black hair, most of it cut somewhat erratically, as though a pair of shears had come to life and attacked his scalp. With a whisper of autumn air, he slid through the door, kicking it shut behind him with an absent sweep of one foot.

Sadly, the writer had no idea what was going on in the room, if there even was a main room at current nor who happened to be inside it, so rather than a lengthy paragraph of who Huginn might have seen, instead you'll get the man's grand voyage across the room. Head held high, coat tails blowing somewhat majestically behind him, the fully suited young raven made his way towards the bar counter as though he owned the place. A grin curled his lips upon reaching the thing and he leaned ever so serenely across it, hoping to attract the attention of something. Or someone. Really, whatever might put a drink into his hands would have been a welcome sight. Even if it was some kind of drink spewing monstrosity.

"Hello, hello, hello!" The man called in the only volume he seemed capable; which to clarify, was loud. "Could I get something poured into my gullet, or do I need to pay extra for that? Actually, come to think of it, if you just point me in the direction of the booze, I can grab it myself. No real need to trouble yourselves m'lads and m'ladies." Unfortunately when Huginn spoke it wasn't merely with his voice, his hands made grand gestures, his arms became swinging guillotines of bludgeoning expression and occasionally this moving conversational whirlwind would lean towards some hapless and rather unfortunate individual.

[Joan of Shark]

This had to be the right place,
but it didn't look like much.
Well, beggars could not be choosers, and so she walked in.
Looking around, she got fwapped on the head by a flailing limb, and she jumped up.
Rubbing her head, it was hard to believe that she had gotten hurt just mere seconds after
entering the establishment.
She noticed a man, gesturing wildly, and she watched apprehensively as other patrons
missed him by mere inches.
Running a hand through her hair, her eyes scanned the vicinity for a safe place to sit.

[We Could Be Villains]

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▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ xxxxxxxxxxxxxx Errol Capland - Resident Bartender xxxxxxxxxxxx«
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✖ Like the water when the sea got rough,
She was bored with the breeze, she was bored of her luck.
The winner and the loser told the fallen priest;
"That's a cold, cold place in the arms of a thief"

Errol slumped a bit when the stranger actually ordered, nodding once to acknowledge the words, but appearing rather despondent otherwise. Off she shuffled to the back, returning after a few moments with a glass in one hand and the bottle in the other, then set both down with a small and unceremonious clank. All while this was done, one of the goons this blue haired person of interest had brought with him brandished a hologram of some sort. From it appeared the portrait of the resident musician, outside of Maestro himself, and Errol found herself frowning a bit under a cascade of her fine white hair, all while leaned over this picture. “He passed through, but I don’t think he’s around anymore.” That seemed a genuine answer in the eyes of the albino as those red hues rose to investigate the hat wearing stranger. “But if I see him, I’ll let you know.”

Whether or not this was true, it was all the girl felt necessary to give; finding her attention scattered now to new customers and their orders. Only, as luck would have it, the dapper gent with the lack of volume control was happy to serve himself. “Right, have at it.” A softer reply from Errol as she settled onto a high stool once more and gazed out at the two females meandering around the bar floor. As in most bars, there was no waitress or hostess or server; just one Errol, who didn’t take table orders. If they wanted a drink, they’d do better approaching the bar like the rest of the plebian patrons.









♛ --------- And holding everything he made her steal,
She said, "Leave me alone, but just d o n ' txl e a v exm e here, all right?"

[Mayhem Villains]

>>> Aiʂliɳg

Cross my heart, and hope to die that I only stay with you one more night.

The young fortune-teller walked into the bar seemingly in a huff. The cause of her mood was not immediately apparent, but the way she came through the door with a steady frown on her clove-colored and glossy lips was more the evidence enough. She did not look like she was in the mood to cause trouble, but there was a certain someone who would definitely be getting a piece of her mind. There was no noise of bangles today since she had apparently abandoned the 'costume' of sorts that one must adopt with her profession. Tanned arms were instead covered with a dark, military style jacket. The weather was chilling and she was not a fan of the nipping weather. The deep purple scarf she wore with the outfit, wrapped around her neck and pulled almost to her chin, brought out the ochroid orbs that scanned the bar as if looking for something. Dark wash skinny style jeans were tucked into black leather boots, the rose to her knees and thumped solidly on the paneled flooring of the building as she made her way to the bar.

Before sitting in one the arranged stools, she allowed one more disappointed look over the venue. Despite, the day so close to Halloween being a good one for cantrips and readings she almost seemed like she wasn't in the mood. Pushing bright red hair over her shoulders, before pulling the worn messenger bag over her shoulders, she took a seat before dropping the bag to the floor. It still contained everything should would need if someone approached her. Like she had once to an amaranthine vixen that had spent some time in this place, 'I'm always working.'

A certain mauve-eyed firecracker that Aisling had not seen in quite some time, w hich had the fact been taken notice too, one would know this was the cause of her mood.
Elbows leaned forward onto the polished wood of the bar as she sent a hopeful look in Errol's direction. The pretty albino was the only bartender she had ever seen in the place, and being tired of receiving her own drinks Aisling was pleased to see her. On top of the Aisling owed her 'rent' of sorts for allowing her to use the bar to conduct business. Despite her mood she was able to smile politely to the other woman.

"Hey, Errol. I've got my 'rent' for you." There was an inflection and heavy use of air quotes on the noun. Slender fingers flicked open the button of her coat with a practiced movement and reached inside for the envelope with the funds.

[We Could Be Villains]

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▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ xxxxxxxxxxxx Taiga Naim Arden xxxxxxxxxxxx«
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✖ And I, I was your mouth,
Just giving it, just giving it;
As if they were my words
That spilled on the ground.

Once upon a time, Taiga had an occupation, but with Nic content to vanish back into the dark of the realm, the watcher had ample opportunity to skip away and do as she pleased. Or who she pleased, as it were. Hard to say this wasn’t common with the Fae, but it was almost guaranteed Aisling wouldn’t be too thrilled about such prolonged absences. Still, a girl had to work, and while the gypsy had a steady job in one set locale, Taiga often traveled like luggage with the Morandori she was bound to. That was just something her tanned companion would have to get used to, if they were to get into anything serious. Though seriousness aside, there was too much to like about the red haired vixen’s company to really stay away for too long, and back Taiga came, with her mauve streaked tresses tied up in a messy ponytail.

Conveniently, her love interest was already in their chosen love nest, meaning the Fae didn’t have anything left to do but waltz in with her usual elitist swag oozing off her impeccably dressed figure. Tight shirt, tight jeans and a tight jacket, all onyx in shade. The door creaked open slowly to reveal the Arden in her entirety, inviting anyone present to watch the slow, stalking gait she took to get to Aisling. But, her woman seemed busy with something at this very second, so Taiga was forced to quietly wait at her rear, arms crossing just beneath her bosom.






♛ --------- But you, you were my rock;
Just c r u m b l i n g, crumbling.
And now my fooling has turned our love to dust.

[Mayhem Villains]

>>> Aiʂliɳg

Cross my heart and hope to die, that I only stay with you one more night.

The toe of Aisling's boot was a constant tapping against the bar as she placed the envelope onto the counter. It may have been annoying, but was in no way impatient. She could use a drink, something warm, with a bit of coffee, but she could also wait until the pale 'tender had time for her. She slumped forward with a sigh, so unusual from her practiced posture, revealing the exhaustion on her features. Her days had been filled with conducting business and her nights with preparing for the carnival. These duties included gathering various tchotchkes and reagents for her practice, assembling small crystal sachets and horoscope scrolls; and worrying about Taiga of course (not that she would admit the latter). It wasn't ideal. Previously smiling lips pursed and brows furrowed as she sat up again. Thinking about the ways she would much rather spend these rapidly chilling nights.

As if on cue the door opened and a figure strolled inside, a bitter breeze following behind them before it was closed again. Aisling shivered, and it wasn't from the sudden drop in temperature. She wouldn't have to turn to see the heliotrope, to be aware of her presence. The tantalizing aura the oracle would recognize anywhere, exuded from the Fae and teased Aisling's skin as easily as Taiga's own soft fingertips like she wasn't wearing anything at all.
Arrogant steps sauntered towards the bar, you could hear the hauteur in them as they placed the lithe, beautiful creature, her back. Skin tingled with the other woman so close, remembering the her touch.

She considered being busy, shaking off the thrill, waiting for Errol to finish her business and flippantly giving the Watcher the time of day. Content to make her wait, the seductress who thought she could just come and go as she pleased. Double entendre much intended.

Instead the soft thumping ceased and she turned into the stool, careful not to brush against Taiga, no matter how close she was. Elbows would lean back against the bar, pulling the unbuttoned jacket apart and revealing the low-cut and soft looking sweater beneath.
"Missed me I bet," she says simply, forcing her own arrogance, despite being a bit upset with the Fae. Yellow orbs flashed as they flicked up to meet the mauve pair.
"Just couldn't stay away."

[The Prophets Harbinger]

Despite having been given the go ahead to a chest of booty, or boozy, as the case was, the raven wasn't entirely certain this was kosher. What was more, everyone seemed to be waiting for someone else. This whole air stank of wait. That and maybe a tinge of desperation. It was enough to set his face to scrunching up, as though he had smelled something particularly unpleasant. The young dapper gentleman could not abide the atmosphere. Not without making comment, perhaps offering some booze and conversation. Little schmoozin' little boozin'. Seemingly decided, the raven nodded to the bartendress. "So I'm not trying to take anything from anyone or anything like that, like a job for instance, but is there anything anyone wants while I have free access to a veritable mountain of booze?" Huginn had this thing about shutting up, he never did. It was something of a policy for him.

As he spoke he meandered behind the counter, running a hand along the length of it. it was clean enough he guessed. It's not as though it would ruin the alcohol for him. Besides, that stuff was purifying right? They used to clean wounds sometimes anyway. You wouldn't see anyone coming near him with a bottle of tequila after he'd gotten stabbed or something, but that was more a personal rule of his. The man bent down and began shuffling through what he assumed to be a vast supply of alcoholics. Brushing back a few raven locks that had dared to obscure his glorious vision, and deprive anyone of his eyes, of the rest of the room.

"Little ladies? Any three or four of you, rather? Anyone? Am I talking to myself here? That'd be fine if I was, I'm a pretty good conversationalist if I do say so myself. Some people have a hard time telling me otherwise. You gotta keep 'em from getting a word in edgewise. It's sort of a talent of mine. One amongst many mind you. Also pretty dexterous." He wiggled the fingers on one hand, absently thrusting it above his head in a demonstration of such, his other hand still busy at work prying booze from shelves. He was going to have to take some of this with him. Some of these bottles were delightful, the contents undoubtedly delightfuler.

[CaptainKabu]

Kumo

[Location: The Ons/ Specifics: Bar counter, Patron side/ Status: Hide in plain sight. The ninja is only a ninja when he appears a ninja. cat_ninja ]

As days dragged on, the youthful shinobi of the Brownstone was getting more and more curious about that One Night Stand. The building with the strange markings on the door, and the weird presence that drew your perception inward. If you didn’t move toward it, your vision seemed to hone in. Where as walking toward it seemed to strike Deja-Vu through the mind. As if one had been here before, and it was right that they were returning. Correct. Whole. Strangest thing to feel in the face of strolling up to a ragged dirty bar located on a strip of empty buildings from presumed dead businesses. Kumo was wearing what had morphed into his casual and usual attire. Black denim jeans over high top black converse. A white cotton T, and his favorite green jacket that Chance had picked out. That gaggle of lush silken dark hair was pulled into a pony tail, the ornate red string per usual holding such tied into a manageable bundle, if not for the few stray bangs that plagued his view. Along with that, he had his thigh strap scroll pouch, and utility belt under the jacket. Also there was the ‘Buster Sword Seal Housing Bracelet’ that contained his ‘favorite sword’ worn on his right arm’s wrist. Kumo hadn’t changed at all, if not for the overwhelming contentment of sharing his life with someone he cared so deeply for. Now it was just a matter of re-establishing himself into the community. If said community didn’t swallow him whole… Either way, a single pale hand would shove open the door to the little dive, and the Medical Nin would strut on in with a bounce in his heels.

A sweep of amber hues would pass over the insides of the area. Random mental notes made of the various patrons about. Most of which were female. Which spurred on the thought; It never ends…... Totally in regards to his accident prone sexually awkward accidental existence on Gaia-Prime. Where creature, after women, after creature would seemingly trip him noticeably into sexscapades. If nothing else, Chance’s absence meant he could learn to try to manipulate these scenarios. To the degree of keeping estranged tail out of his lap, and said ladies eyes in their sockets at the end of the day... Kumo- Making the world a safer place by sacrificing his own safety...

emotion_awesome

Frustration, and thoughts on adapting aside, the raven haired youth would make his way on over to the bar to take up a seat. The albino behind the counter was offered a pleasant smile, though it may have come off more superficial then Kumo would have liked. Regardless, superficial was good. Right?

”Yo?”

The best way to start a 'Employee employer relationship'... Urban Slang.