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No, it's not about Sun.

The words were tinged with loneliness; the demoness would like to see Sunstrike again, as he was one of the few people she actually cared for in this day and age. However, he was not the reason she had come. She had come for a different, more shallow purpose...

"What do you know about HoH?" she asked aloud.

'Crruunch.'
'Crruunch.'
'Crruunch.'

"Sand... blech..."

Jack Handy was in his typical outfit, some loose fitting black jeans with a grey shirt that had bold black letters that said MARINE on them. Over the shirt was a black leather jacket, the Bad Company insignia on his left shoulder. A badge with BC in white on it.

"I wonder if they have any alcohol in there, I've not had a good Jack Daniels in months."

The meta-human had been lost for quite sometime, and the thing he carried on his back was enough to show he didn't have a home. It was a large backpack, the kind you see mountain climbers with, and a sleeping bag was attached to the top of it with bungee cords.

Jack was strapped, had some ammunition, and some weapons. There was a good reason he kept to using his ka-bar and sabre though. Not only were they expensive pieces of equipment, he didn't know when he'd be able to buy more ammuntion for his guns.

A fintertip less black glove with plated knuckles rose to his face, and he lowered some hi-tech sun glasses to look at the tavern more closely. After a short examination, he trudged on into the tavern and looked for some JD.

Since the drinking duel had pretty much sputtered out, Athan had taken up a position on his seat, his arms crossed in front of his chest and his feet kicked up onto the table, crossed over one another.

Athan could only cast a sidelong glance towards the nearby bar, where Flare and Owle were having a little conversation. He really only caught the tail end of it, with Owle saying 'big tournament', followed by Flare's question.

Now, Athan himself had heard of the event. Hell, what respectable fighter hadn't. So when mention of the tournament just sort of filtered through the air of the Firebrand, he leaned back in his chair, balancing precariously on the rear two legs, attempting to hear from the two women as much as he could.

Also, since Athan wasn't a spy or anything, it was fairly obvious that he was listening in on their conversation, since his eyes were locked upon the two the entire time.

Kalis was currently recently rested from a last fight, itching to test himself in any challenge available, and armed with a broken sword, and guts, made a volatile combination by boredome.

He was searching the kitchen area for a phonebook, while the radio played music, the job add over. He by no means remembered that the Firebrand had no phone.

His drink was in one hand while the other dug through things.

He was oblivious to all the outside world.

And right near a very obvious chat.

Sometimes, Lady Luck danced in circles around you and stuck her tongue out.

A rather boisterous youth Jack was, he wanted to know if they had his drink here.

And if he had to kill someone to get it.

"Hey... do they got some Jack Daniels 'ere?"

The ex-marine asked rather loud, ducking through the hallway with the big get up on his back. He never removed those sunglasses, and one might assume they were sensative to light or he was just a freak. Jack had that kinda walk where it was obvious he didn't care if one thought he was a freak.

"I'm kinda short on cash, so it'd have to be on credit."

Jack was sure to offer after the announced request, though not as loud about it. He stood between a couple of tables with thumbs hooked on the straps of his backpack.

Kalis turned, quickly around, eyes wide and focused sharply on Owle.

Then he popped the earpieces out and inarticulately adressed the paniced attempt: "Eh?"

He hadn't anticipated Flare's notice of his eavesdropping, but even if he was caught, it wasn't the reaction he had expected. So when she beckoned him over, Athan shrugged his shoulders, uncrossed his arms, and lowered his feet to the ground. There was a brief scare as the chair threatened to topple over backwards, the kind of scare that causes a brief rush of adrenaline and scares the crap out of a person for a good minute or so afterwards. He managed to rock himself forward enough so that he avoided the embarassing spill, however, and stood up to join the two women at the counter.

"So...fighting, huh?"

Athan placed a closed fist and his elbow on the countertop before leaning on it, his opposite arm just sort of hanging down.

"Feel free to clue me in on what you have planned."

And then Owle left, leaving Athan with a blatant confused expression on his face. Just as a precaution, he checked his breath to see if it smelled alright.

Jack dropped his pack down to the floor beside him with a rather resounding thump.

"Thanks a million!"

The 18 year old was obviously very thankful for the bottle, because a hand lashed out and took the bottle to his lips without even a second thought. Some trick he learned in the core with his teeth allowed for a popping of the cap with relative ease and a quick guzzling.

Though as he chugged that Jack Daniel's, one might worry Jack would become s**t-faced. No worries though, being meta-human made that sorta difficult.

"Eh..."

Amid all his rejoicing, Jack realized he was rather hungry. Looking back to the girl who'd given him his bottle, he quirked a brow. He had noticed the shaking hands.

"Two things. One... You got some food in this joint? And two... are you okay?"

He pointed the neck of the JD bottle at her shaking hands.