Welcome to Gaia! ::

The boy dropped down onto the awning with a thump, then clambered down the newly built structure till he was standing on the sand of the beach. He looked back only once, to mutter "weird bird" as the eagle decided to perch by one of the many bottom floor windows. The bird could certainly fit on the windowsill, particularly if the window was opened. And a few of them were, it being a relatively nice day on the beach.

Just as the bird had lost interest in the boy, Rand had lost interest in the bird. He ran off down the beach, intent on finding some driftwood and pretending he was surfing. Which, for Rand, involved actually attempting to surf.

The rather lazy-looking black cat immediately raised it's head when the eagle landed on the window sill, but other than perking it's ears in the bird's direction, really didn't seem to take too much notice. It circled around and went back to sleep, but it's head was now facing the open window, it's ears still picking up any sounds that may pass by.

Meanwhile, Rage continued his conversation with Owle. "Yeah... I understand...." He sent along with this the mental equivalent of a sweat drop. "Still, looks like opportunity is knocking."

Cro let all the conversations roll over him as he ordered a short, no offence meant, glass of whiskey. He'd rather Samantha got herself sorted out first, from the initial look of her, even in the dim lighting, she needed something like this, and it wouldn't do any good calling untoward attention to himself and letting her sink into the background.

When the deal had been struck he looked calmly at Rage.

"I can cook, believe it or not...and...erm...whatever you were cooking before? Is there...anyone watching it?" As he spoke the nice even smell of something cooking quickly became a rather angry, smokey scent of something fast on it's way to becoming charcoal.

There was an upset-looking dwarf standing next to the grill, simply leaning up against the base of it since he couldn't reach. As Owle walked in he nonchalantly said "food's burning" and walked out.

Rage rubbed the back of his head, an embarrassed look on his face. "Um... I guess not..." he said in response to Cro, right after Owle went running off. "I better go take care of that...." He hopped out of his seat, walking to the kitchen at a brisk pace and taking a look at the grill. "I think next time I cook I'll stay in the kitchen... I have to wonder if that guy - the one with the tail - out there's looking for a job. He said he can cook - between you, Watts, and myself, it's pretty hard for us to take care of everything around here."

Without a second thought he took a piece of chicken off the grill right after he turned the thing off. Despite the fact that flames had been licking at it seconds earlier, he didn't seem to notice that, at this point, it should have been burning his hand. He held it with two fingers, seeming to take a closer look at it. "Oh yeah. This is NOT salvageable. Ryu might want to eat it...." Sighing, he pulled out a plate and began heaping the scorched meat onto it.

Rage followed suit after Owle, bringing the burned meat out to the black cat, who immediately took interest. After Rage set it down to talk to Cro and Owle, the cat (Ryu, apparently) perked up and began to paw and bite at the meat. For something so small it sure had a healthy appetite.

((I'm going to put Rage on autopilot. Owle, you can control him if necessary so that my absence doesn't slow things down.))

Just outside the newly finished building, a short melody seemed to lilt from an invisible acoustic guitar...then with no regard for the laws of physics a man with a dingy acoustic guitar in his hands and an ornate guitar case on his back is suddenly standing in front of the Firebrand, looking at the sign proclaiming its name with interest. The stranger is clad in a red longcoat, underneath which an elegant white shirt and dressy black pants can be seen. As he replaces the guitar in its case, he takes a deep breath through his nose. Besides the fresh, clean smell of the surf (one thing the stranger loves), there is the odor of slightly carbonized bread in the air.

???: "Hmm...I've been looking for a pub to become a patron of."

The stranger ambles towards the entrance, his steps slightly forced, as though he was getting used to walking on land again. Before he enters, he taps the soles of his black leather boots against one of the poles supporting the awning, causing small showers of sand to cascade down from them. With little ceremony he opens the door and waltzes in, finding a seat at the bar and plopping into it. His overexaggerated movements almost cause him to fall right off the barstool, but somehow he manages to keep his balance.

???: "This is a nice place you have here."

He says this to no one in particular while he examines the interior of the Firebrand, as he knows the owner is somewhere within earshot. If they're busy with something else, ah well. He's got time to waste. He drums his fingers on the countertop, enjoying the atmosphere...