...maybe this is all a dream? ...or maybe I'm just high? Testing that theory, the slime girl Stella tried some basic laws of fluids. Seeps through openings, check. Conforms to shape of container, with the help of an empty cup, check. Nope, definitely not a dream. Oh god, what's going to happen to me? She looked nervous again for a moment, but she never was for too long due to her extensive use of logic and some optimism.
A little tired of standing, she plopped down on the floor, splashing a tiny bit here or there. "Alright. I'm still going to find out what the hell happened..." Stella told herself, taking deep breaths...well, trying to. Lack of lungs, n' all. "...just calmly."
Vice stretched where he lay, then reached over to his rucksack and pulled out a few things. A relatively large knife, sheathed, a few bandages for some reason, and oddly enough, a small stuffed toy, a cow, that looked like it had been dragged through its fair share of mud puddles and sandboxes. Vice looked to be in his late thirties, and judging by his demeanor is was hard to imagine that he had kids. Why he'd have a toy like that was anyone's guess.
ooc: yeah, sorry... I know I'm not much help... >.>
bic: The creature was not the least bit bothered by the dismissal though he didn't make any more suggestions after that. He continued to watch the girl, jumping a little when she plopped down suddenly and with a splash. people weren't supposed to splash. He growled a little, but then began to lose interest. Sighing, he too flopped on a cushion near the table with the woefully empty whisky bottle. His returning boredom left him nothing to think about except the itching of the bandage that was returning with it. He scratched at the side of his face a little but it really didn't do any good, so her turned and looked at Vice. After several long moments, he asked the question Vice had asked him earlier, about getting a new bandage.
(( Notably so. Also, no biggie. We all have our occasional blocks. ))
After sitting a good long while, no new ideas presented themselves to her, so Stella simply decided to stick with the 'liquid = liquidation' theory. It's the only one that makes sense. Not much I can do about it now though. Deciding such, she focused her interest back on her gelatinous new body. I wonder what this can do... since I'm probably stuck with it, might as well find out. So, testing time.
Just like an average fluid, bending and contorting her shape was remarkably easy, with an added effect of selective solidity, able to pass certain things through while grabbing others. "...cool..." Stella remarked, rather interested in herself for the first time ever. Plans came to fruition, ways to abuse this form, etc.
In a more applied test, Stella stretched her arm over to grab a bowl of what-seemed-to-be chips lying about on the bar counter, feeling a bit hungry after her fit of panic. Success. Creepily enough, you could see the snacks dissolving inside of her. "Huh. Didn't think I still had taste buds."
Vice looked up at the creature, then nodded his assent, sitting up and pulling out some new bandages from the bag. He also took out some medicines that looked oddly similar to the ones another denizen of the bar used. that done, he beckoned the creature over to him, holding the bandages up as an offer.
The creature shuffled over, eying the materials with some suspicion. He couldn't be too paranoid after asking for the help, but he was still wary. He sat down and waited as patiently as he could, tail twitching back and forth, as he waited.
ooc:I am like... falling asleep as I type ... so I think this is goodnight and... I can't think... assume the critter goes and lays down or something.
(( Ah, business presents itself again. Need to leave soon. neutral ))
"Yawn..." Stella seemed rather beat. It had been a long day fraught with secrecy and unidentifiable liquids, so you can't blame her for being tuckered out early. "...hey, um..." ...did he ever mention his name? ...no. "...jeans guy...is there anywhere I can crash for the night? ...hell, I'll take a couch if necessary." She just desperately wanted to get some Z's in.
Another yawn, as she stood up and placed the bowl on the nearest table, feeling a tad too tired for tricks now that the panic energy was gone.
"Yeh..." He grunted, getting up from bandaging the little monster and watching it wander off. He moved behind the bar and found the ring of keys underneath it - same place Rune always kept them. "Rooms are..." He paused for a moment, then pointed to one of the doors by the fireplace. "Through there. Just find the one that matches the key." With that done, he moved back to his place on the pillows, unsheathing the knife he had taken out earlier and proceeding to sharpen the blade on a small whetstone in the sheath. Apparently he had had his fill of interaction for the day.
"Right-o..." Stella made a grab for the key, though it slid through her hands. "...whoops. Gotta work on that..." Second grab was a success, and she went on back where the man had pointed. ...aren't you forgetting something? "...oh, right, thanks dude."
Uno, dos, tres... she absentmindedly counted off how many doors she had bothered with the key. Click!Bingo. Key unlocked the door...but the door itself wouldn't budge. "Oh bloody hell..." Stella moaned, pulling as hard as she could on the door. Must be broken. Not surprised with this hole in the wall place.
...oh. Wait. Right... There's always a second solution to things. Hers was condensing her matter into a thinner paste to fit through the opening under the door. Painless and efficient, at that.
A heavy thumping and rustling could be heard from beneath; indeed, as patrons fraternised up above, below one patron in particular, none other than Rene, managed to slump out curiously. "Good-evening," she said, her English accent peaking out quite obviously, speaking nonetheless half-audibly, only to notice one other patron in the parlour. With every step, the chains dangling at her black skinny jeans clanked somewhat meekly, and though her arms (which themselves contained a set of decorative, fantastical tattoos) could be seen a loose, somewhat-baggy band shirt reading Mägo de Oz .
The creature had, once more, found a way outside. How he kept getting out was a mystery, especially since he didn't seem capable of getting back in without help. He'd spent several hours out there, and now, once again, was ready to return and scratching impatiently at the door, something furry and warm hanging from his beak. Wether it was alive or not was questionable, but it wasn't moving.
Rune entered the main room wearing her usual 'lazy day' clothing, which consisted of a man's button-down several sizes too large, and her undergarments. Okay, not exactly an 'outfit' per se, but most people who knew her would be used to her immodesty by now. She heard the usual scratching at the door that indicated the bar's resident creature wanted in, so she went up to open the door for him. She noted the animal in his beak, but just shook her head and beckoned him inside. Rune was rather attuned to living things, that was true - but in being so she'd long ago accepted that in order for anything to live, other things had to die. That was just the way it went. It wasn't as if anything she fed him from the bar wouldn't have been equally dead. Getting upset about it was about as useful as getting upset over the sun rising in the morning.
In his usual display of paranoia, the creature took agonizing care in crossing the threshold, but once he was across, he bounded down the stairs, jolting the poor raccoon that was already having a bad enough time of it as it was. Judging from the squeaking and hissing though, it was, apparently, still alive, and as soon as the creature got to the bottom and his prey had a chance to get reoriented, it squirmed around and started clawing at his face. Surprised, the creature squawked and dropped it before chasing after it as it raced across the room.
Rune followed the creature down the stairs, and was mildly surprised when he dropped his quarry - though she was more worried about how the scratches to his face had affected the wounds from the previous day than anything. She was perfectly content to let the two animals run around the bar for a while - there was nothing they could break that couldn't be easily replaced, and the doors to the rooms and infirmary were shut tightly.
The 'coon raced around the room, scrambling over pillows, under the tables, around the bar and back, and the whole way, the creature chased it, his claws clacking and occasionally screeching on the hard stone floor. He was faster, but the critter was smaller, and it made for a good game of tag. At least for the creature anyway. He chased it across the room for the third time and dove for it just as it disappeared under one of the short tables. He collided with the piece of furniture with a mixed snarl and yelp and scrambled back, panting. Hardly giving himself a moment to rest, he leaned down and scrabbled to get under the table, fitting his head and one of his arms. What ensued was nothing less than the clamber of a battlefield as the raccoon, now cornered, turned on the creature.