Drinkin' Mutie's Bar & Grill (CVNU New Orleans)

@_grifter_: Ben retrieved the bottle through swift recall and slid it over. "Call it $18 and we're good." Sitting down on a nearby stool behind the bar, he tapped off the end of his cigarette into the ash tray. "That's strong. You got a headache you're looking to relieve?"

@ordnance: "Much appreciated." Vincent caught the bottle as it slid by him.With his free hand he placed a $20 on the on the bar. "Keep the change. Oh, and could I get a glass?" Vincent reached into pants pocket and produced a pack of smokes. "Nah, no headache. Just in dire need of a strong drink." He replied with a smirk as he lit up a cigarette.

@_grifter_: The glass followed swiftly. "Not a problem. I'd be a horrible bartender if I didn't carry whiskey." Slipping the bill into the register, he took a drag from his cigarette. "I know the feeling. Sometimes you just need the feel of liquor in your veins."

@ordnance: Vincent took a deep drag of his cigarette as he popped open the bottle and preceded to pour himself a glass. He exhaled a thick cancerous cloud of smoke quickly followed by a rather obnoxious yawn. With his free hand he withdrew the cig between his lips and placed it in a nearby ash tray. "It makes the day more interesting. Rather or not it's a good or bad kind of interesting is an entirely different story." Vincent sat the bottle back down and raised his glass up "Cheers." Vincent quickly downed the glass and gently placed it back on the bar.

@_grifter_: "Good or bad depends on the drink. And on the person, I guess." Holding the ever-shortening cigarette between his pointer and middle fingers, he scratched at stubble with his free hand. It'd been too long since he'd last shaved. Any longer and he'd have a nasty beard sprouting on his chin. "Cheers, for what little we can get of it in this day and age."

@ordnance: "It could always be worse man. At least people aren't being too sh*tty to each other around here. Now Gothic, well everyone's out for themselves there. Mutants, humans, it makes no difference. If you aren't in power then your shiving your mother to get ahead." Vincent poured himself another glass. "Here, why don't you get yourself a glass and have a drink. You look like you need one." Vincent sat the bottle back down and pushed it towards the barkeep.

@_grifter_: "Sheesh, Gothic. Have a cousin there. Still not sure if he's a shivee or a shiver." Ben shook his head at the offer of a drink. "I don't drink on the job. I keep my head clear in case trouble shows." It was a general rule for good bartending. Never consume the product you're dealing out. Ben and a few of his other bar-owner colleagues, thought it wildly unprofessional. "I could use it, though. Family's a hell in and of itself and is probably gonna put me in an early grave."

@ordnance: "I understand. I've worked a few bars. It never fails, eventually someone starts something and it escalates into something else. Nowadays it's because of the whole Man vs Mutant bull sh*t that everyone's preaching about lately." Vincent couldn't understand the bit about family. He had none. "Sorry to hear that, about your family and what not."

@_grifter_: "Partly. You also get the types that just want to throw their weight around 'cause they got flashy powers." And for that, he had a telepath in-house at all times. One of many preventative measures to keep this place running. "You deal with what you got. I just happened to get stuck with a hoard of drunks and mutants." He gave a shrug, putting his cigarette out in the lighter. "Lack of enthusiasm in your voice though makes me think you ain't got the luxury of family."

@ordnance: "It's a smart move hiring Mutants around here. I saw the bouncer up front, so I'm just assuming that the waitresses and rest of the staff got something up their sleeves." Vincent didn't have a problem with mutants. Hell, for all he knew he was one. "My mom passed not long after she had me. My dad...was never really in the picture. For the most part I was raised by my gramps, and he passed a few years back. I've been bouncing around since then." Vincent ran his hand through his hair and scratched his head. "I might have more family out there. But just because some people might share the same blood as me....well, it doesn't mean their family."

@_grifter_: "Only got like one baseline human on staff, so you're not far off." Telepaths and living mountains were the least of what he had around here. There was at least two sorcerers that rotated duty keeping the place under heavy duty protective wards. "Heard that story plenty. I can at least empathize with the deadbeat dad bit. Pops was never without a drink in his hand and a lit cigarette to dig into your arm."

@ordnance: "Yeah, it's quite a recurring story. Especially around the bar scene." Vincent listened intently as he poured himself another drink. "We've all got scars. That old bastard that raised me told me that they add character. And that we should never be afraid to show'em." Vincent wasn't afraid to show the scars that blanketed his body. It was when he was asked about it that bothered him. It made developing certain relationships with the opposite sex a problem for him. They would always ask and Vincent would always leave.

@_grifter_: "Old bastards say a lot of things to sound good." Ben lit himself a second cigarette. His rule about drinking on the job didn't extend to smoking. "Some are more visible than others. But they do tell you a story, make sure you don't forget the lessons they taught you."

@ordnance: "Yeah...the lessons they teach you. Can't forget those...even if you want to." Vincent finished his last glass of whiskey and stood to his feet. "Thanks for the drink and the conversation." He tipped well and took his leave. "I'll drop by next time I'm in town. It's really a nice place you got here. Until next time."

Where a stool stood empty, a being came to occupy it. This wasn't out of the ordinary for a bar, for certain.. except the presence of this outsider unnerved the patrons nearby. The newcomer put off a sense of displacement. Not in the sense of being out of place.. but as if he didn't belong, in this reality let alone this room. "Cola." Whispered the smooth, faded lips. He turned black eyes upon the crowd of misfits and misanthropes. The bustling locales of Gothic City held much to watch and was infinitely larger than this hole in the wall, but it was not so concentrated. Here, he heard all manner of conversation. From conspiracy to gossip, it was simply.. juicy.

@ordnance Light rain started to fall, pelting down on top of Anthony's head as he crossed the street. Heading to a fairly new bar that quickly grew in business. He pushed the doors open, and was welcomed with loud laughter and merry conversations between mutants and humans that shared tables and drinks together in peace. Great music was playing and faint sounds of clattering plates and clinking bottles could occasionally be heard in the background. Anthony could not help but smile, this was his kind of bar.

He made his way through the crowd and sat on one of the stools at the end of the bar. "One Mojito please" He spoke to the bartender as he looked around, placing his briefcase on the ground beside him. Waiting for his order.

bump?

@matthew_x said:

Lmao, appreciate it.

Boldly setting foot inside the architecturally sub-par establishment, her tall, Amazonian frame adorned in a pair of onyx jeans and dark brown boots paralleled by the dark brown flush of the form-fitting leather jacket veiling the white, sleeveless tank-top underneath, Yana's icy, crystal blue eyes surveyed her immediate encompassment from behind the brown light mirror shaded lens of her gold-metal framed Gucci sunglasses, a diverted grin curling on her fair, radiant features, her mesmeric, golden locks styled in a casual ponytail as both hands rested upon her hips, "Heh, not bad", she remarked.

Guiding herself towards a nearby table, her every footstep and subtle mannerism dripping with socially spellbinding galvanization and haughty elegance not unlike her father, Santiago's cocky swagger and engrossing style, Yana insouciantly seated herself, issuing a quick order to the neighboring waiter, "Black Label, Johnnie Walker". Like her father, the Woman of Fire and Ice was a flippant, personable, scotch-drinking, silver tongued 'víbora'.

@the_psyentist:

Legs crossed above a table, Drake leaned clad in his less apparent mercenary suit, cascading, cinnamon coat rasping the timber flooring, bleached verdant t-shirt thoroughly delineating his herculean build, jeans. Wrapped around his face, his trademark bandana, symbolizing who he was, the Carmine Comedian. Only at New Orleans for business, bloodstained business. A subtle bob at the waitress and a wink as he thanked for the glass of Blue Label. "Thanks, babe." His supercilious, parched smirk evanescent as he sipped, eyes fathoming the quaint bar.

@_drake: What's the best place to hunt for superhuman blood? A bar catering to mutants, of course. Alexandra stepped into the bar with an only slightly more demure version of her usual attire. Her curves were tightly wrapped in a white bustiet and matching pants which descended her long, lithe legs into sharp heels. She brushed back her platinum blonde locks with manicured figures, a cool, confident gaze passing from icy blue eyes. She tapped the counter. "Bloody Mary, barkeep." Her shapely hips leaned against the bar as she awaited her drink.

@the_psyentist:

The unwavering composure of the Shogun of Sarcasm was rather shaken by the feminine presence, sumptuous curves ornamented by golden locks, outshining with attractive brilliancy, enthralling and captivating even the most imbecilic of men. A pompous atmosphere sluggishly encompassed the establishment, pampering primarily, he seemed in her gaze any crack to exploit, yet she was crystal, beauteous, majestic, arcane...

Drake raised from his table, bandana rolled upwards, revealing his robust visage, now simply a thin, rubicund line crossed his forehead, lips charmingly edged upward, his elbow supported at the counter, dimple intensifying. "Well, well, what does such a fine lady do all alone in a forbidden place such as Muties?"

@_drake: "Hm?" The psychiatrist turned to him before sipping her alcoholic beverage. "Oh... I have devious reasons, I can assure you." She winked with a laugh, the humour almost masking the mirrored reality. "I've been meaning to visit this little hole in the wall. The name drew me. I'm something of an expert on mutants." Her steely eyes surveyed the stranger with a small smile on her ruby lips. "Dr. Alexandra Steele. And you are?"

@the_psyentist:

Adamant countenance faking a lighthearted chortle, dryly squinting for a moment, those bewitching features, velvety laughter, ensnaring speech, unique scent. It only drew the Carmine Comedian's curiosity and, perhaps, most inner carnal desires. "Oh, a mutant specialist, I see. Good-looking and intelligent, rare around New Orleans. Actually, around the world too." A soft grin surged amid his stallion, lion-hearted lineaments. "My name is Drake. Unlike you, I ain't no owner of respectable titles. Mercenary most of the times, but it's not only on the job that I'm a killer." Flirtatiously winking, his winsome simper was veiled by a few gulps on the whiskey.

(Damn, that line was awful xD)

@_drake: "Ooooh?" She arched a brow with a nod. "Such appreciation. A connoisseur killer. A killer of ladies perhaps with that wit and handsome frame." Alexandra reached out to tease a finger nail beneath his chin, quite evidently on her deceptively best behaviour. "You can call me Xandra, if you like, Drake."

@the_psyentist:

Bobbing duly, he elevated his neck a jiffy, reveling in the yielding endearment, coming from such mischievous woman, he could only succumb to enkindling grace. "The beauties of this life are to be appreciated, honey." A sluggish nod pursued gently by an entrancing gaze. "Xandra..." The delightful reverberations whistled as a rapid zephyr. "Beautiful name for a gorgeous lady." Leaning closer, eyes meeting, he whispered. "So, tell me, darlin'. What do you work with? Mutants only? Seems rather doubtful."

@_drake: She pursed her lips, her head tilting, light golden hair draping to one side over her bare shoulder. The psionic mutant watched him intently. "Why is it doubtful, I wonder? I do work with more than just mutants." An alluring grin spreading across her fair features eased her subsequent prying. "Are you a mutant? Or perhaps something else entirely... Drake?" Her saccarine voice dripped from her vibrant lips with the name.

@the_psyentist:

"Mutant? Perhaps. To be honest, I really don't know what I am..." Simpering, he took a moment to gently caress her chin, finger roaming softly in a descending motion until it withdrew. "But I like it this way, babe. Who do you want me to be is a better question."

(Damn, I am really feeling serious Drake now O_O)

@_drake: "Hmmmm..." She flashed a pearly smile. "Well, now I'm intrigued, Drake. Uncertain if you're a mutant, but I imagine you must have some superhuman abilities to differentiate yourself from... boring humans." The doctor winked. "What are your talents, I wonder? And what could they do for me?" Her sultry intonation lingered in the air like an intoxicating fragrance. If he did prove boring, she could always find something more interesting. But she was craving a power fix.

@the_psyentist: Damn manipulative vixen lol

@pyrogram: DUH.

@pyrogram: Dude, my immortality ain't in DNA. If she wants that as a prize, she won't be getting it =P

Translating: Drake 1 x 0 Chick Drake b*nged.

@the_psyentist: PUNCH.

@_drake: LOL Truuuue! What happened to Rose?

@pyrogram: Ditched me for Sarah Mania.

After that one, Drake finally realized there is being more perfect than himself... Well, at least not enough to pair with him xD

@_drake: I'll go steal Mania with Satomi :P

I got sidetracked from the interaction, because I'm a lazy dummy obviously. =P

@pyrogram: Okay, steal her. Then Rose gets all alone... And dies alone.

*hugs his mirror*

@the_psyentist:

"Ohohoho, you really are interested on good ol' Drake, aren't ya?" Playfully resuming, he gulped a few more times, the pouring, xanthous liquid moistened his throat, a corrosive feeling flown throughout his neck, he did not flinch. "Well, I can assure ya I ain't boring. If I am a mutant, I dunno, but I clearly can..." Abruptly vanishing from her sight, he reappeared slightly behind. "Teleport. And I also seem to be immortal, virtually not killable, no matter what happens I will heal... Eventually." He halted a moment, glaring into the infinite and sinking profoundly on thoughts. "Mind is always the one to hold the scars, though."

@_drake: Her vermillion lips curled into a sinister smile as she watched his display of teleportation. That was always a useful trick. She wanted it. Had she ever bitten one? The doctor couldn't recall. Xandra turned to reach out a hand and draw her fingers sensually up his arm. "Well, I've actually got some tricks of my own. But I don't like showing them in public." Pale blue eyes stared into his with alluring suggestion. "Why don't we get out of here and see what we could manage together with our unique gifts, hm?

@the_psyentist: Will respond later.

@the_psyentist:

Those immersive eyes glassed the profundity of her mind, unscathed albeit ostensibly feeble and volatile, it was adamant and Machiavellian, not even propounding when the Mistress of Mind savvied scrupulously what she craved for. And as a reluctant prey struggles against the squeezing serpent around its neck. A smile plastered across his stouthearted countenance. "Oh, I love the sound of that." Letting himself be dragged by the enveloping perfume. "Stack one more for Drake!" He exclaimed lowly, only for himself to hearken and feast.

@_drake: Alexandra slid a few bills onto the bar before beaming seemingly innocuously toward the mercenary. Drawing her hips from their lounging position at the counter, the doctor arched a brow and curled a finger, motioning for him to follow as she exited bar and headed to an unpopulated alleyway.

@the_psyentist:

Those golden locks swung side to side, drawing him closer and closer, a vigorous, pulsing arm circled her waist, those honey features, he savored the delightful kisses already, rubicund lips coalescing his. He was delusional, underrated at best. Both had aces upon their sleeves, who would be the first to toss it onto the table?

@_drake: The psionic mutant reached out to grab Drake's shirt to draw him in only a few inches from her face. "Shall we begin?" A strangely sinister chuckle erupted from her throat as she endeavoured to force him against a nearby wall, licking her lips even as she eyed his hungrily. A single pant was forced from her lungs as his unique scent enveloped her more fully in the proximity. The draw seemed to be understood and mutual to the doctor. Her mind quickly scanned the area to ensure they were alone before teasing her lips close to him.

@the_psyentist:

Gasping, the parched thud echoed his heartbeat, squinting eyes fathomed ceaselessly the surroundings, drowning on that gluttonous, blazing glare of ultramarine eyes, seemingly frigid but so comforting, encompassing him on a mystical mist, solely salacious. He leaned a bit forth, her tantalizing, inherent scent... He halted a moment, enraptured by that delicious fragrance as he expected her to come closer. Both eyes shut, a smile...

@_drake: Her own lips curled into a small smile even as she saw his seemingly intoxicated state, his eyes closing in inevitable surrender. A soft hand traveled up his arm before resting behind the back of his neck before she pressed her lips ravenously to his, her body pushing up against his tantalizingly.

@the_psyentist:

A simple touch of lips, something as simplistic propelled him to the sky, fireworks outburst inside his cranium, carving one more memory he wouldn't remember long. That involving press of lips, his left arm tightened around her waist, the other holding blandly to her shoulder-blades. He distanced a bit, gaze encountering hers smoothly, a nonchalant, cocked brow and a lighthearted chuckle absconded his throat.

@_drake: Xandra arched a brow in reflection of his own as he pulled away. Her own gaze was of sultry impatience. She wasn't done. The doctor moved in to brush her cheek against his and plant a series of kisses about her jaw. The hand that had gripped his clothing wandered up to tug his collar loose as soft, irresistible kisses would descend to linger at his neck.

@the_psyentist:

As warm lips descended his neck, he could not help but close both eyes again nimbly. She wasn't clowning when she stated her 'other skills' were as great as her prodigious mind, there wasn't much he could do, simply advantaging the momentum to remind himself of how lucky he was. Barely did he acknowledge the atrocity that was about to commence.