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"Right, sorry!" Owle exclaimed, skedaddling behind the bar to fetch Rafe his drink while the woman she'd been trying to serve remained unresponsive.

She set the bottle of schnapps down in front of him (she didn't really pay much attention to what kind it was, just grabbed the first bottle that said "schnapps" on it) and was just about to go into the kitchen to fry up some bacon when...



Owle winced and covered her ears with her hands. "Isn't it a little early for maniacal laughter?" she asked pointedly, shooting the odd and dirty man a glance.

"You want some drinks, calm down and lower the volume a little, or at least drop an octave."

He quickly puts his hand over the hilt of the sword he is carrying around his waist, he is about to grab it before stopping himself and thinking to himself, Don't lose my cool here, last thing I want is this place to be damaged horribly by a battle. He wonders idly for a moment if he should light a match to see if the air would explode. He then hears the man talk to the fly a little creeped out but not the creepiest thing he has seen. Damien hears the man call him a non-person, he reacts shouting angrily "What do you mean I'm a non-person! Just because I'm not from this planet doesn't make me a damn nonentity! I still exist with feelings! Who are you to judge if I'm a person or not! I may not be human but I beleive I've became a person over the last 180 years I have been stuck on the god forsaken mudball of a planet!" He starts to move his hand and secretly undos a clasp that engages a mechanism that will slide a pistol from his forearm into his hand, if he makes the right movement.

"Thank you," Owle said in reply to the very dirty man. It may be worth mentioning that she was obviously a metahuman as well, unless the scales on her shoulders, calves, and feet, as well as the claws on her toes, were just decorations. Now satisfied that the dirty man was being quieter, she went back into the kitchen to prepare Rafe's bacon.

Owle would detect no such thing; her supernatural senses were limited to detecting the presence and locations of nearby minds. Any more complex information would need to be obtained via a fullblown mind invasion.

Leo might detect about Owle, in order from most likely to least likely, that she was a shapeshifter, a telepath, a worried mother, and a former goddess. Actually, the worried mother bit he might be able to figure out from the way she kept glancing up the stairs at loud noises, as if expecting a sleeping kid to wake up.

He would find her thoughts were highly guarded, so it wasn't likely he would hear any of them she didn't want him to hear.

She emerged from the kitchen with a steaming plate of bacon, only to see a large horsefly and a shouting Damien.

"Um...well, we don't normally serve insects here...just so long as she knows better than to touch anyone else's food, though, I guess it's okay."

Owle didn't like bugs much, but she wasn't repulsed by them, either. Besides, it wasn't as weird as half the things she'd seen on Gaia.

"Damien, please, calm down," she counseled, keeping her voice soothing. She had caught Damien's flustered speech, but not the remark that had provoked it.

So she turned to Leo next.

"Sir, you should be aware that this bar is owned and run by some of us who are not quite human. Any insults to meta-humans as a whole won't be taken too lightly here...though you're free to insult him all you like, I suppose. We just ask that you take any fights that may spring up as a result outside, so that the bar doesn't get destroyed again."

EDIT: She blinked at his demand for beer. Had he ordered? Oh, right, that must have been part of the shouting.

"If no one's taken you outside by the time I get it, it's coming right up," she answered, as if imminent violence didn't bother her at all.

Athan was tired, of that there wasn't much question at all. He had also just recently consumed a beverage that was on fire, but he wasn't inebrieted to the point that he would just imagine foul-mouthed hippie-esque patrons talking to flies.

So when Leo started speaking crazy (so, more or less, whenever he talked), Athan regarded the man with a raised eyebrow. This continued for awhile, until Owle vacated the room and Athan rose his voice so he could be heard from across the bar. It wasn't a shout, but it was pretty clear he wasn't engaging in polite conversation from a distance.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

Paul could feel the alcohol taking effect. The newcomer apparently didn't subscribe to the drinking contests, as he was being blatantly rude to one of its participants. Before Paul feels able to stand up and say something about it, someone kicks open the door. Now Paul is sure he's drunk. This is the sort of thing is what he'd see in a drunken stupor: a crazy, smelly guy surrounded by insects which he considered pets. Being partially drunk, it took him a while to notice that others were reacting to this character.

Paul: Hmm...guess he is real.

Paul drags himself upright and makes his way over to Leo. His footwork is only slightly impeded by the alcohol, and he taps the crazy newcomer on the shoulder, trying not to accidentally hit the giant horsefly on his person.

Paul: "Excuse me, sir. Are you a hallucination, or am I not that drunk yet?"

"So you're an f#$&#xin;g arachnid, ey. A touchy one at that, spiders ussually love me. I talk to them. They have to eat flies, that's what they were made for, but the ones I hang with only consume the aged. I beleive in being f#$&#xin;g pragmatic."




As for Paul, Leonard was too worried about Damien to pay him much notice at the moment, and ignored him completely.



Clarabelle was immune to even the most toxic pesticides man could create, though this substance may be different, so Leo left her hide in the folds of his coat. This wasn't good, as in any restauraunt, there were flies that needed to be protected. The first one that dropped to the floor dead, and Leo would go berserk, and no one wanted to see that. For now, he was directing the insects to stay away from the scent.

As for Damien, he had admitted to being a big spider once, yet even so, they had not seemed to hit it off very well. Leo decided to see if he could change that, if Damien was part insect, or part arachnid, it would be easy for Leo to gain some degree of control over Damiens actions, should be interesting.



This was the shore off the northern edge of the Gaian Plains, so there would be plenty of flying insects swarming outside. If needed, he could summon a swarm of flying insects from miles away, not icluding his control of any other insects naturally present in the area.

"Mr. Spider, I request you put the cap back on that bottle right now." Leo said with a sudden fondness in his voice for Damien, "That is wastefull murder, you don't kill what you won't eat. You should be ashamed."

If Damien was part insect, even of a non-terestial species, he would feel compelled to control his temper and put the lid back on his drink. Leo had a way of controling insects and insect-like creatures, and that would include humaniods who were part insects. He also loved them, more than anything else that existed, insects were more valuable than people, in his mind. The flies here, and all the other insects, were his children. But if Damien was part spider, this was more like a family quarrel. Though bad members of the family might need to be disciplined. Standoff, so what would happen next.

Leo's mood: Affectionately Apprehensive

"What's all this talk about mind hacking?"

Somewhere during Leo and Damien's discussion, if it could be called that, Owle had put the plate of bacon down in front of Rafe and vanished into the kitchen. She emerged now, a mug of booze in her hand, just in time to again catch the tail end of Damien's words.

She was interested, being a telepath herself, and not sensing the usual kind of astral energy that she'd associate with telepathy flying about.

The mug found its way to Leo, and Owle looked about for something else with which to keep her hands busy.