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Owner: @Boone (Paddy) Fitzpatrick

This is your hometown bar. The one you are comfortable coming to after work or after a day out on the lake fishing. Six pool tables line the exterior walls. Games are free so long as you're drinking. The walls are decorated with an assortment of hunting heads and old photographs of movie stars. Brick and beams gives it an old pub feel right in the middle of New York. Stools line all the pillars as well as the thirty foot long bar with twenty beers on tap at all times, at least six of which are Irish. 

 

This bar is being opened to help ALL players have an easy place to have single and group threads - don't need to wait for "permission" or an invite from the owner to use it.

 

This is an OPEN thread for anyone and everyone to join! Post order not required since multiple conversations, groupings can happen in the same thread here!

 

NPCs - Please do not abuse these NPCs as they will be further developed as staples by Boone to run the bar

Behind the Bar:  Hagan "Hawk" Monroe  

- Retired Boxer - Powers TBD

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Don't fuck with the bartender.

Attempting to mess with his shit will get you bounced by him personally - possibly through a window rather than the door.

 

Behind the Bar / Waitress: "Blue"

- Powers TBD

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Like something out of a retro diner she is a sleek painting in the moose head on the wall bar.

Like Hawk - messing with her will likely lead to pain... lots of it.

 

 

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Why me?

 

The growl whined half under her breath. His chuckle only irritating her more.

 

NPC: Because you will learn all there is to know about the place in one night while it would take months for the less.. observant.

 

………

Huff exhaled her lips, rogue strand of mahogany flipping away from her features only to fall back right where it had begun, escaped from the leather band at the nape of her neck that held the remaining delinquent locks back.

 

Gaspari was right. She hated when he was right. But he was right.

 

Hands crammed into her jean pockets as booted soles struck pavement louder than normal, letting her "see" the path without engaging abilities, sensitive ears registering every vibration against surfaces creating a map as it echo located. The vintage Doors tee hung threadbare over her lean frame. Once black background now fluttered over her black jeans as a dark gray, the three quarter sleeves hiding most of the parasitic tattoo, leaving just the lower part of her arm and back of her hand covered in the tribal looking ebony markings, a few swaths peeking above the frayed collar on the side of her neck on the same side.  

 

She hated when he was right.

 

She stopped in front of the door that smelled of liquor, the sound of music and pool balls striking beyond its hinges. This was it. Get in and get out. That would be the plan. Only problem was to know "everything" about the place as Gaspari wanted, she would need to hang and drink for a few hours.

 

Brilliant.

 

Knee nudged the door open, the dark circle shades catching light of the interior but continuing to shield her secret from the world. Boone was family only in so far as, thus far he had proven he could clean up the Bakkhos books and not appear to steal from them.  Very few in the family knew what the shades hid and he was not one of those few.

 

The opening of this place had been "watched" to see if it was a challenge to the Bakkhos empire, but all signs pointed to the fact that it was not in the least. It was a casual hang out. The type of place Bakkhos didn’t tend to own.  She hadn't had many interactions with Boone but he didn’t strike her as the sort to get any kick out of challenging something like Bakkhos. She suspected this was exactly what it looked like… an everyday man's hang out.

 

Crack of a clean break turned her head slightly, the warm tingle starting at the back of her neck as she engaged her map, white ants beginning to crawl over the darkness in her mind to outline shapes. People spotted first, the furniture and walls soon followed. She watched a good game for a few shots before heading for the bar.

 

Straddling the stool that sat against the wall she placed a foot on the stool beside, a clear "fuck off" body language that was likely to be respected in a place like this. People came here to relax, not show off their latest conquest or how shiny their watch was.

 

NPC: Getcha?

 

Gruff voice of the bartender drew her attention, it was warm without being pushy.

 

Yorsh..

 

He either was going to go "what" or go make it. The glass clinking on the glass meant he knew exactly what it was and wasn’t questioning it being ordered by a woman.

 

Vodka didn’t have a scent unless you had a nose that could detect what others couldn’t. It was a decent vodka that he added to the bold beer. The second clink betraying he was doubling the shot. So… they didn’t skimp on the liquor either.  Nice.

 

The tall glass slid to her, agile fingers easily catching it with a nod.

 

Thanks….

 

To be honest. The place was more her type than the club. A fact she wasn’t going to disclose to Gaspari in her report.

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"Well shit."

 

He stifled the shit grin on his face as boots hit the floor from their perch on his desk.  Eyes took great care peering closer to the monitor, the laugh to himself amused.  Fingers caught the mug off a pile of papers, leaning back in the swanky leather office chair to stare at the ceiling and spin in the chair lazily, finishing the pint.

 

He got up, the slight stagger not from the booze, but the twirl.

 

Stairs were quick, finger to the side of his nose when he emerged from the polished swinging door on the side of the bar.  Murmurs and cheers, many glasses finding their way into the air and a full mug immediately in his hand.  He took a long drink before climbing up onto the bar, looking out over the small sea of soon to be drunk and happy patrons… some of which came just to catch a glimpse of him and play a round of darts.

 

“Here's to all my friends and lovers. May all your ups and downs be under the covers!  But watch it my dears!  No matter how beautiful, smart, and full of class…  to somebody, somewhere, she’s a pain in the ass.”

 

His blown kiss seemed to be at nobody….  seemed to be.  The room lit up with laughter and silenced as the drinking commenced.  His boots hit the floor and he slammed his mug on the counter, the amusement again diving into a fun loving laughter, then back to the murmur of personal conversation.

 

He wove through the crowd, greeting, laughing, slapping the back of a few shoulders, until reaching the relatively silent end of the bar… up on a stool next to the offending foot and leaning backward on the counter with his elbows.  Attention surveyed his domain.

 

“Nice suit,” he said quietly, sarcasm of course.  He nodded toward Hagan, another beer was already sliding toward his hand.

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Steps being descended were heard a moment before the cheers came around her. Looked like Boone was making an early entrance tonight. His shape was easily recognized as he accepted a drink and climbed onto the bar. Enough business had been done between him and Gaspari with her in attendance that his form was "familiar" to her.

 

Brow quirked as he played "host" to his crowd on the altar of booze.  Ya… this was not a threat for Bakkhos.  This was a leprechaun's paradise.

 

Smirk lit her lips as she waited for the outlined bartender's form to "glance" her way, a nod as she slid the glass to him to indicate another.  Sensitive ears listened to the owner's banter with his guests. He was in his element it seemed.  She offered a nod to Hagan as another Yorsh was slid her way just as Boone took up a seat just beyond her boots.

 

"Nice suit."

 

Glass paused before her lips as she raised a brow at him.

 

Other one's at the cleaners…. else I would have dressed up for your grand opening…

 

His sarcasm was easily matched by her own as she glanced around the bar. She had to admit, it was a different kind of fun but the patrons seemed no less happy than at a Bakkhos venue.

 

Quite the little bar….. for a leprechaun….

 

Smirk played on her lips before the glass came up to them, tainted dark beer going down easily.

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Quite the little bar….. for a leprechaun….

 

“Them’s fightin’ words…”

 

Mug tipped up and he put away another.  He was a drinker, sure.  Sometimes it felt bottomless, and himself no less drunk than if he’d only had a sip.  He missed it actually, but the fact he didn’t get shitfaced anymore because of some kind of crazy hoodoo took hold with the end of the world did have it’s advantages… especially in drinking games. People said the worst shit when they were drunk, including secrets.

 

“Seems people that drink alone get called,  mmmm….  functional drunks?”

 

He cleared his throat and quirked a brow at her as he slid the mug toward his Blue.  It was filled and slid back.  A dig for a dig was only fair.

 

“Then of course there’s me, not sure there's a word for that yet.”

 

Smile curled his lips as he surveyed his kingdom.

 

“Suit at the cleaners, eh?  What’s the occasion then?”

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"Them's fightin' words…"

 

The chuckle that bubble up in her chest was dark and easy, a rarity with the Bakkhos guard dog. This was more the headliner's speed than the high end club at the top of the ritzy hotel. She didn’t knock it of course, it was her family and that was her ride or die. But she had spent her formative years in casual bars, playing for free drinks and food, challenged to shots and drinking the jocks under the table.  

 

“Seems people that drink alone get called,  mmmm….  functional drunks?”


….are they?

 

Brow quirked over the dark round shades. They didn’t know eachother well enough for him to know that liquor was one of her major food groups. One of those brain guys? Could read thoughts? They still didn’t know much about Mr Boone.

 

Chin turned slightly to "watch" the mug head to the bartender. Seemed the leprechaun was able to throw back decently. Night was early and he was rolling hard. Her second Yorsh was almost done as well.

 

“Then of course there’s me, not sure there's a word for that yet.”

 

Faint smirk hit her expression as she drew the glass to her lips, beer and vodka vanishing before she licked the thin froth from her upper lips, glass slid to the bartender for another as the word breathed ever so quietly and yet loud enough.

 

Leprechaun…..

 

Third Yorsh was slid her way, long agile fingers snatching it mid-slide as she glanced to some cheers that rang up at a table where again a solid crack told her there was someone that actually knew how to play pool at the stick.

 

“Suit at the cleaners, eh?  What’s the occasion then?”

 

Glance at him came with a shrug, the relaxed corners of her lips almost smiling.

 

Need one?.....I mean I figured if I wanted to see the place..  needed to come first night in case didn’t make it to the second…

 

This time the grin was broad, crinkles peeking out from the side of the dark shades as she sipped the Yorsh still grinning. He was easy to banter with.  Wasn’t trying to kill her or get in her pants.

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Like that do ya... stick around, I have plenty more thigh slappers...

 

His response to her laugh was a quip, almost snarky at her doubt.  Fuuuuuck he didn't like mixing work with business... errr... business.  Work with work?  ....awww fuck it.

 

Leprechaun…..

 

Got a helluva Lucky Charm at that...

 

Eyes flicked toward to pool tables at the ruckus.

 

Awww fuck off Joe, stop bustin' my balls!

 

A few hoots and a lotta laughter trickled his direction before they again were intent on what seemed to be a wicked competitive pool game.

 

Need one?.....I mean I figured if I wanted to see the place..  needed to come first night in case didn’t make it to the second…

 

So that's your game then.... run me out of town... wait, was that doubt it'd be successful I hear in your voice?  Somehow I didn't think the stuffy butt brigade would give two shots, but hey... leprechauns got gold, pretty rainbows and bad movies.  We be psychotic little bastards...

 

His smirk and sarcasm were wicked, again the mug was pushed away and slid back.  Another roar from the pool table brought a slap on the bar from him.  A handful of honest to god unshelled peanuts was scooped up by the meta and chucked at the pool table followed by choked laughter as they plinked over the loser and onto the floor.

 

I bet on you Joe!  Now I gotta win back my money, I'm too drunk for that shit!

 

Oddly enough he played off the stereotype well.  Part of the charm he supposed...

 

Whoever has the balls to win me back my money gets free drinks and a shag!

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Got a helluva Lucky Charm at that….

 

Grin grew again. He was easy, laid back. A lesser would have bristled… he just shot it back. For the first time in a long time, the shoulders relaxed as she let herself actually enjoy the third Yorsh.

 

Awww fuck off Joe, stop bustin' my balls!

 

Back leaned into the wall, the boot propped on the stool between them rocked a bit as she "listened in" on the crowd. Conversations away from them focused on briefly to determine the topic of discussion before moving to the next group. He had a girl working the room tramp hard but seemed most the guys were ignoring her. Other than the ho, the crowd really seemed just a casual, feet up on the coffee table sort of crowd.

 

So that's your game then.... run me out of town... wait, was that doubt it'd be successful I hear in your voice? 

 

Absolutely…

 

The immediate response was laced with a chuckle as the glass came to her lips.

 

Somehow I didn't think the stuffy butt brigade would give two shots, but hey... leprechauns got gold, pretty rainbows and bad movies.  We be psychotic little bastards...

 

They dont.... and for the record, you represent well the little bastards….

 

She also didn’t bristle. She was a hothead about a lot of things but not this sort of ribbing on the family. It wasn’t a threat, just banter. She hadn't been this relaxed since a certain ammo dealer spent time drinking with her in a cemetery.  Frown ghosted over the dark shades a moment, the Cajun had been awol since she returned from Egypt and she had managed not to think about him for weeks.

 

I bet on you Joe!  Now I gotta win back my money, I'm too drunk for that shit! Whoever has the balls to win me back my money gets free drinks and a shag!

 

Lips curled down in feigned disgust as the interruption diverted the spiral into a dark mood back into neutral.

 

Eh….. shag a leprechaun? How is that a prize?

 

Though even as she said it the glance went to the table. It was tempting. She had never played in her old life. The blind couldn’t "shoot pool".  But on the richly engraved tables at Bakkhos in the after hours of the club, Toni had taught her in private.  Depth perception and which balls were hers was the hardest things to overcome as the white outlines of her gift showed her the edges of the table in the same plane, but it hadn't taken long for the sharp mind to begin compensating, reading the brightness of the lines to determine their depth. She learned the placement of the balls in the triangle and therefore learned never to take her eyes off the table, watching the break so she could tell where every ball ended up. It didn’t always work, but it worked more than it failed. As long as she kept the balls straight, she could run the damn table. Her unusual "vision" of the world helped to remove all distractions and learn the precision of angles. She enjoyed the game but only played with family that knew her….. shortcoming… and only in private. She feared the humiliation of making a mistake.

 

Still…. the challenge of it played on her risk seeking side. Head shook faintly to remove the thought from her head as the glass came back to her lips. She needed to be more careful than that.

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