Long day at work? That's not unusual, we all end up with days like those. From the construction site worker all the way to the suit and tie executive type; life can be hard on everyone. Couldn't sleep for some reason or another? That's fine, you've got a place here at the bar too, just gotta walk in through that door. The home life getting you down? I guess that's why you're here and not there on a night like this. Running from memories of the past? Chasing a future that's always at your fingertips but always just out of reach? Don't worry about those here, time stops it's relentless march in this humble little bar of mine. Stray cat that's just stopping in for a small bowl of milk and a good, long, nap? Heheh, don't worry your weary little whiskers, we'll take you too. This is the Wayward Stool, a place for those without direction or a refuge of their own. A pit stop for the lost souls that wander the streets, stepping between the lights in the endless darkness of a cold and lonely night. Come on in, warm your bones, and stay as long as you like.

You see it there, amidst the cold light of a street lamp on this particularly rainy and miserable night, the warm glow of a place you won't be alone. You're not quite sure why, but you just know that's where you're supposed to go. Looking up the way you were going only revealed to you more of the same dreary loneliness you'd already suffered from for far too long. Behind you, all the things you were running from at the start, waiting ever patiently for you to come back as they followed you no matter how far you went. Just across the street, nothing but the now familiar urban sprawl that loomed over you since your journey had begun. But, right here next to you, was an open invitation that you just couldn't pass up. So, instead of continuing your never ending march of isolation, you decide to take the plunge, you open that unlocked door and make your way inside.

Relief sets in as the tension from your aching muscles begins to ease, the warmth of dimly lit room seeps into your bones. The atmosphere around you is calm, quiet, with an oddly familiar sounding slow jazz tune drifting softly through the still air. The floors were a clean redwood, not quite polished but clearly maintained with an obvious touch of love. The walls from the floor to about a third of the way up were a darker hickory planning that gave way to plaster painted a soft tan. The ceiling was constructed of the same dark stained hickory as the paneling that framed the room, a domed rectangular skylight cut across most of the ceiling to reveal the rainy night sky above. Occasionally, the passing lights of a silent train danced through the bar, filtering in from the skylight above. The layout of the room was simple. In the furthest corner sat a small bar with a handful of stools and a white marble top, cushioned seats stretching across the wall behind the stools, chairs and tables set with lit candles to accommodate those without a seat at the bar. To the opposite end, was a long wooden bar top where drinks could be served and the ashtrays sat, allowing those who smoked to do their business while not disturbing those patrons who did not partake.

Taking this all in, your eyes eventually drift back to the small granite topped bar in the corner. Behind that bar stood a tall man, an older gentleman with long back hair slicked back and meticulously combed in a way as to be presentable. gracing his chin and cheeks were a well groomed and trimmed if not a little greying beard. He wore a fine white button up shirt tucked into tailored black slacks, sleeves rolled to his elbows as he busied himself with polishing his glass mugs. Over his shirt rested a black suit vest with a tasteful black silken tie tucked underneath. Now with your attention finally on him, the man gives you a warm smile and a nod of the head.

"Welcome, stranger, to the Wayward Stool."

The doors swung open. Staggering through, clearly in pain even with their face visible was an average sized figure wearing an all-encompassing sci-fi looking suit. Although the suit itself was sleek and mostly uniform it was covered in bandoliers, pouches, satchels and holsters. The figure would pause at the entrance, look around a big, before inclining their head as if in acceptance of their new situation. "Been a long while since I've accidentally gone through a wormhole, gotta say." Reaching up, they would crack their neck through their helmet and move their way towards the bar, leaning on chairbacks and pausing once or twice to get their breath back. It was only when they had pulled a chair out and sat down would they finally press a button on their suit, and after an almost imperceptible rustling noise, they would sigh, their muscles visibly relaxing.

"Well ain't this place a picture? All nice and pretty and cozy. Wayward Stool, eh? Well, ain't that a name and a half. Sounds like you're designed to be takin' in souls flung about. Never mind that though." The figure slowly removed their gloves, which had strange formations around the fingers and on certain spots in the palm. Their skin was tan and their hands decidedly human, something that was only further confirmed when they reached up and with a hiss disengaged their helmet.

A pretty, short-haired woman with a peculiar looking Lichtenburg figure shaped scar stretching across the left side of her face and down towards her neck. "Tell me, do y'alls do food? I could do with something to eat to be right honest wit'cha. A drink'd be lovely too... How 'bout a milkshake? Vanilla, and then if you got it a bit of bourbon'll make it just peachy."

Balthazar - Crimelord
Location: Shady corner of the establishment

In a dark corner of the bar were a few shady men. Introducing! Balthazar (aka Ghost) - a crimelord with telekinesis. Suave, ruthless and heartless was his brand. At least that was what he thought. Imagine if they asked him to star in a series? He wore a white coat and black gloves - they matched well with his ginger hair. Most notable about him was his cane and hat. At about 1.8m tall, with a slim and athletic build, he was what every crimelord wanted to look like. Stolen cars, money laundering, theft - it was all part of daily business.

Balthazar was flanked by two of his most trusted men, one of which was a lawyer who was possibly too loyal. He had ordered a bottle of scotch, though he wasn't here to just drink and have fun with the ladies. He didn't want a VIP room either. No. It was part of an alibi meticulously crafted so that his record was spotless. Soon enough, his phone rang and from the distance a wide grin could be seen.

See this bar was not only a place full of witnesses, it also seemed to be outside the jurisdiction of most bodies of law enforcement, so Balthazar wouldn't suddenly have a bunch of stupid cop IDs stuffed in his face. He'd tear them apart given the chance. There was something about the time and place here too that he couldn't really pinpoint. Either way, it fitted the narrative. And perhaps was even the source of a hireable assassin or two.

And so it was that Balthazar noticed someone at the bar (Lady Selune's character). A fighter by the looks of it. Being in a particularly good mood tonight for some unknown reason, Balthazar whispered something to Lucas one of his men. Lucas then walked up to the bar and rang the bell. "First round's on my Boss!"

Busying himself with organizing his space, the tender glanced up and smiled at the first patron to approach the bar that night. They seemed to be a curious character, dressed in an impressively advanced suit of some kind which he knew not the origin of. As the woman took her seat in front of him, the bartender inclined his head toward her in greeting. "Welcome, we do indeed accept all kinds of folks from far flung places. We have quite an extensive collection, just about anything your heart desires in fact." The man shuffled under the bar for a moment before gently setting down a beautifully made menu book in front of the woman. Opening the book revealed a tastefully made list of the many drinks and cocktails available to thirsty travelers. Each turn of the page continued to unveil yet more options, each just as pleasing as the last. Flipping through the pages of the book would reveal that it went on and on, each page filled with endless delights. Foods, drinks, treats, snacks, and all manner of other edible goodies.

"An associate of ours, the Matron of the Wandering Inn, can prepare just about anything you can think of. We have a rule; your wish is our command. Ask and ye shall receive." Giving her time to comb through the endless options provided by the book, the bartender went about starting her milkshake, all the while taking notice of the three men who'd been largely silent up to now. It seemed as though the man in white was their ring leader, the other two his retainers; not an uncommon sight in his establishment. From behind the counter the man retrieved a large blender, a tub of ice cream, and a rather old fashion bottle of whole milk, setting them out in a way to let the woman watch him fulfill her request. As he scooped the ice cream into the blender and poured the milk the bartender took note of whispered conversation happening behind the woman, turning the oddly silent machine on so that he could face the newcomer.

"On your boss? That won't be necessary, friend. The Wayward Stool is very much a paid in full service to those who are fortunate enough to find it. Although, he's more than welcome to order and serve whomever he wishes should that be his desire." Turning back to the blender, the older man stopped the machine and set a fountain glass onto the counter and filled it to the brim with the thick vanilla shake. Not quite done yet, he produced a jigger from a line of bar implements and plucked a rather expensive looking bottle of bourbon, filling the hourglass shaped measuring tool before pouring it into the shake itself. To finish, he stirred it enough to get long streaks of the liquor but not fully incorporate it and topping it with hand whipped cream and a bright red cherry.

"Your shake, Miss, let me know when you decided upon something to eat." He informed the woman while politely returning his attention to the man who'd rung the bell. "Perhaps there's something I can get for you gentlemen? A drink, perhaps some food?"

@Lady Selune
@SilverRain

The woman watched as the drink was assembled, raising an eyebrow as the man made pretty much a picture-perfect milkshake, and with a cherry on top to boot. "Can I get the rest of that bottle o' bourbon if ya don't mind. Need a good..." She took the bottle and knocked back a good slug of the liquor. A low rumbling started at the back of her throat as she set the alcohol down, emerging from her mouth as a rough, growly 'rah' sounding noise as the burn subsisded. "That's what the doctor ordered. Ain't no finer painkiller than eighty proof, ain't that right?" The woman chuckled to herself, flipping over the pages of the menu. "Chris'almighty, what a delight! Could go a lifetime and not eat the same thing twice. I think though some comfort foods are in order for me; could you be a dear and send the order for the uh..." She flipped back through the pages, tapping on the right one after a few seconds.

"Chilli cheese fries and the onion rings, and I do not take kindly to skimpin' on the jalapeños." She offered a wink, and then gasped, seemingly shocked at something. "Now now, where in the hells are my manners. You'se gave me drink and I ain't even given a kindly gent like you my name! Call me Vyn." Once this was done, she would turn and look at Balthazar and his goons. Rough. Tumble. Dangerous sorts of fellas; the kind she normally dragged in for a price on their heads. "I appreciate the gesture gentlemen."

The fourth customer of the night flung open the door as if she had fallen through. Catching herself on the door and trying to stop it from banging around too much, she awkwardly left traces of her own red blood of the knob. Clumsily she let it go and watched as it shut behind her. Turning around, her ragged, long, wet brown hair spilled out from the black hood of her hoodie, concealing her gaunt green eyes. The black hoodie was unzipped, a red t-shirt underneath that had become even redder due to a wound of peculiar shape splitting open a section of her belly. Her jeans were torn, the knees exposed and covered in dirt. One of her black canvas sneakers had the sole damage- it flopped with each limping step. Her pale white arms, made of ropey muscle, had been painted red that was both her own and obviously not.

Her wild eyes glanced around the place- she had not expected to show up here. Going by her heavy breathing and sense of unease, it was clear that this change of pace was a sudden and dramatic de-escalation.

Mumbling something to herself, she meandered her way over to the granite counter top and pulled up a stool, the crimson liquid squeaking underneath her reddened finger tips. With a trembling hand she reached into the inside of her hoodie, accessing an inner pocket, and then another, and withdrew a cigarette and a lighter. As she did, a belt around her hips revealed a black gun holster for a handgun, but there was no holser. After a few failed attempts the busted up lighter with a hard to read insignia on it sparked shakily to life. Lighting the cigarette she placed it to her dry, cracked lips and inhaled, her eyes closing. One of which was bruised and beginning to swell. After a moment she opened her eyes again. Intensely she glanced at Vyn, the mobsters, and the bartender, before her eyes found their most comfortable and natural position: downcast.

"H-heard somethin' 'bout free drinks...?" The woman's voice quaked, barely audible. The cigarette burned a flickering orange. She was going to need an ashtray, too, but she hadn't bothered to ask.

"A selection of your best wine please, Bartender" replied Lucas. "The Boss would like to celebrate, though food can be for later. This is my contact details should this establishment need anything". Lucas then handed the bartender a business card. Of course it was for a shell company, but that was to be expected.

Balthazar gave a nod to the bartender and the girl who ordered chilli cheese fries. There was the smallest hint of curiosity about how good they actually were. Not to eat of course - but to sprinkle in a person's eyes. Got to keep innovation going! Ah, perhaps he was getting too excited at the phone call he had just received. His rival had been eliminated and all evidence destroyed. He now owned the entire region down south.

Another customer came in - one who seemed to had just gotten out of a rough fight. She looked worse for wear and Balthazar wondered if she would drop dead at any moment. The smoke from her cigarette flew his way... it was a warm and comforting scent. The girl with the lighter seemed to want to keep to herself, which was absolutely fine. Most avoided people like him. He would not meddle in their affairs if they did not meddle with his.

----------

New customer (?). Ears. Tail. Orange fur. 25cm tall. Meows. The kitty slipped in through a slightly open door and pitter pattered across the floor. It was raining outside and it felt that this place was safe. Also, it smelled food. Were animals welcomed here? Last time it tried to enter a warm place, it was promptly picked up and thrown out. The ginger coloured kitty decided to not jump onto the tables and instead weaved around the bar stools. It came to the feet of the bartender. It let out the quietest of meows. It didn't seem to have a collar, though it did look healthy and clean.

Noting the short haired woman's approval with some satisfaction, the Bartender didn't protest as the woman took the bottle of bourbon for herself. He didn't take offense, in fact, he took another bottle from behind his bar's seemingly endless supply of things. Smiling politely at her, the man took the menu book and set it a few stools down, available for anyone who wished to take a look. Ever the good host, he nodded affirmative to the woman's request and picked up the receiver of a rather old looking phone that waited patiently behind him. "Spinning the dial a few times, the faint ringing of a bell could be heard from the device until someone on the other end of the line picked up. "Good evening Erin. Yes, that's right, it will be an order of chilli fries and onion rings. On no, quite the opposite this time, they would like a healthy portion of jalapenos. Thank you, you're always reliable. Have a good evening."

Setting the handset down gently, the bartender returned his attention to the short haired woman who introduced herself as Vyn. "It's a pleasure to meet you Vyn, your food should be ready and here in about fifteen or so minutes, my associate needs to make a fresh batch of fries and onion rings for you."

Now that he had satisfied his first customer, the Bartender turned his attention to the man who seemed to be all arms and legs, dressed in his fine tailored suit. Chuckling at the request, he turned around to looked through the shelves ponderously. Deciding, he plucked six bottles down from his left most cabinet, setting them out before Lucas. "While I understand the nature of your request, you may find that it can be quite subjective as to what constitutes a 'fine bottle' of wine. I've taken the liberty of picking a few that should hopefully please your pallet." He informed the man, all the wile taking his card out of politeness. Hearing the door slam open for the second time that night, the older man rose his eyebrow as he watched another woman who'd clearly seen better days stumble into the bar room.

"You don't look so good, young lady," Observed the man rather dryly. "Do you require aide of some sort? I can render assistance if that's what you need." In the mean time, he slid the book he'd given to Vyn and opened it up to let her browse through her drink options. "Free drinks indeed. Just find something you'd like and I'll get it for you."

Never one to miss a newcomer, the Bartender happened to spot the tabby cat wander in as the door slowly closed itself. Smiling to himself he filled a small saucer with the milk he'd used in Vyn's milkshake, setting it down on the floor at the end of the bar for the furry little guest. "Hello there, enjoy your stay and know you're safe here," he told the cat, scratching between it's ears.

@Lady Selune
@Zoey Boey
@SilverRain

The hoodie-clad woman took another inhale of tobacco and nicotine, the ashes falling onto the granite counter top. She seemed to notice this and swore under her breathe, trying to wipe it off with her wrist, only to smear off some of someone else's blood on the bar. Hissing, she gave up, frustrated. This place was nice, and she wanted to maintain that niceness.

She listened to the man's offer, and considered it as he talked to a nearby cat that had also wandered in. This was a play for strays it seeemd. The ragged-haired girl opened up her hoodie and looked at the wound and bit her lower lip. Her stomach also rumbled as he and the astronaut lady talked about onion rings.

"'Render assistance', huh?" Green eyes questioned the room and the bartender. After a moment she nodded. "Sure...sure. I guess." She hesitated, taking another shakey inhale and exhale of smoke, the grey substance billowing from her nostrils. Leaning forward on her elbows, she shifted a little uneasily.

"I just...I just got a question. I'm not uh...I'm not dead, am I?" She asked flatly. Despite everything she had apparently been through, there was the slightest hint of grim humor in her voice.

"Hey lass, if you're dead, this'n be a pretty good place to be dead at. Here." Vyn reached for a pouch and pulled out a small polymer device the size and shape of an extremley undersized pistol, then a small silver canister and what appeared to be a spray bottle. "This'll fix ya up right as rain; always does for me. Painkillers, binders." She shook the spray can a few times hard and set it down in front of the other injutred woman, then jabbed the cylinder down atop where the hammer would have been had the injector been a pistol, turning it once to secure it. Twirling the device in her palm, she would offer it grip-first to the newcomer, taking a sip of her milkshake as she did so.

From behind her, she heard the mew of cat and the bartender acknowledging an animal. Almost instinctively she tried to activate her helmet's ability to grant her panoramic vision, before remembering it was sitting on the counter next to her, and she'd just have to turn her head like a normal human being. Cute cat.

Lucas gave a soft laugh. "Ah yes, preferences do vary from person to person. As for myself I don't drink, no matter the occasion. It one of my personal codes. Wouldn't want to be spilling secrets as a lawyer. So just a glass of *ahem* an Ice Cola drink for me". As successful as he was, this was always one of the more awkward moments in the night.

Balthazar stepped up to the bar (making sure to not step on the cat). He eyed the different wines they had available, eventually he picked a Penfolds if only because it reminded him of back home. "How long have you been operating here?" asked Balthazar casually. It was odd to him that he didn't recall this establishment. Lucas didn't mention anything about it either. And the customers, they were nothing like the usual ones back in town. Balthazar's other men remained in the dark corner, not wanting to make any of the guest feel uncomfortable. Balthazar was in a good mood tonight and he was just here for a drink to celebrate. Nothing official.

The ginger coloured kitty meowed happily as the saucer of milk was placed before it. At this point, magic shined around its neck and a red pet collar formed. Apparently the kitty's name was "Cookies". Cookies purred as its ears were scratched and it rubbed its face in the bartender's hands. Cookies was momentarily distracted by a really fun "pssht" sound which came from the other customer. The kitty's tail went straight up, gently flicking about with curiousity it watched the 'cat toy' being handed over to another human. It was a cat toy, right?

The woman entetimg stumbled slightly as she entered throwing off her hood hiding her face from the suddon downpour that came out of the blue and happened to see a particular door that drew hwe attention. "Oops... Not drunk... Old battery."

A light german accent, long white hair pulled into a dettiled platt secured by a asian style metal pin just visible and on taller side with gold eyes. Entirely normal for her age and gender except the hair so pale to give Elsa jealous momments and just below her dress peaking out one leg repaced to the thigh, knee and sculpted and painted metallic toes that sat in a black healed shoe matching the human one.


Careful as a light blinked red and the replacement worked a fraction of second slower to throw ones balence. Pausing to gingerly lift self to bar stool with a quiet servo whine. Looking around the strange and rqther varried bar from a woman who looked like she barely escaped a fight, a tall smartly dressed gentleman, a rather cute cat and a bartender with a poker face like if they even where suprised no would ever tell. "A glass of your decent white wine and a desert too choclatey to be legal of you do one please tender of the bar." Noting the red light now blinking a merry dance and a second lighting up. "Odd request. Can i trouble you have a small screwdriver or fairly small yet strong knife please? I cannot quite use a USB port"

Returning to take a little time to look at the other patrons and feline as someone seemed to treat the injured lady, the man in a smart suit had questions as a man ordered a coke while he looled like he should be ordering something more expensive. Another stranger was oddly yet advancedly atired. Least she would not be bored while the new battery kicked in.

The bloodied woman blinked and looked away from her drinks and at Vyn, the woman who called her lass. She squinted at the bizarre process Vyn went through to prepare the pistol. She wasn't sure exactly what it did, but it looked like a spray bottle.

"Uh, t-thanks. I guess." She said quietly, accepting the gun. Hopefully this wasn't poison. "Here goes nothing." She'd never seen anything like this before.

The woman removed her hoodie and let it fall to the floor, letting her messy, wet, brown hair fall fully loose. Lifting up her red and reddened shirt, she looked down at the revealed wound cut into her pale flesh. Messy and round, it looked like someone had shot her. She had done a lot of bleeding recently. She applied the healing spray with her free hand. Her wince quickly turned into one of being impressed and surprised as the wound sealed with white, cleansing foam. No more bleeding. Just a smooth, semi-bubbly foam.

The pain was gone, and she handed the device back, letting her shirt fall back down. "Wow...thanks." She blinked, looking a little numb. "I mean...I could have deserved the hit, as far as you know." She said, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. She shoved the menu around with her index finger and glanced over her should at the woman with the robotic leg. Overall she was still sketchy, but she seemed much more 'present' than before thanks to the medicine.

Raising his eyebrow at the lawyer again, the bartender began to wonder if he and his friends really understood where they were right now. From appearances, it seemed they assumed his bar was just another hidden away in whatever city they'd come from. An interesting but not uncommon occurrence.

"Well, I've had this place and run it for as long as anyone can rightly remember, myself included."

Turning to the young woman who looked as though she's been in a fight of some kind, the old man smiled reassuringly.

"Oh I don't think you're dead, not that the distinction between dead and alive means much here. Folks get to enjoy what we have to offer all the same."

Not one to keep a customer waiting longer than they had to, the bartender turned around and opened an old looking soda cooler. Browsing through the glass bottles lining the shelves, he found what he'd been looking for and quickly popped the cap off the bottle before handing it to Lucas.

Ding ding, chimed a bell behind the barkeep, prompting him to turn around and open a small chrome square door just below waist height. It looked like it belonged to a refrigerator, but inside was an order of chili cheese fries and onion rings. When he removed the pleasantly arranged baskets of food, one would find them generously portioned and a heavenly aroma wafted through the room; if you were into that sort of food.

"Here you are," he announced, setting the baskets in front of Vyn. "Please enjoy and I hope you find it to your liking."

It seemed he'd have plenty to do tonight. Just as he finished serving Vyn, another woman came through his door, this one looking better than the last one had.

"Welcome to the Wayward Stool, make yourself at home and let me know if you need anything," even as he greeted the new addition to the bar, the barkeep slipped a crystalline ashtray toward the woman with a cigarette. He should have done so sooner, how careless of him.

As requested, the man produced a small screwdriver from behind his counter, all the while picking out a chilled white wine for the woman. He set them both down in front of her, turning to make another call to his compatriot.

Ring ring, click. "Yes, hello again Erin. Something chocolaty this time, as much chocolate as you can get into it. Mhm, that's it, thank you love." Hanging up, the bartender returned his attention to the woman with her wine.

"I apologize, but it will take a bit of time for your order to be complete. I do assure you however that Erin makes a dessert worth waiting for."

@Zoey Boey
@Lady Selune
@SilverRain
@PrinceAlexus

Balthazar seemed oblivious to the implied meaning of the bartender's reply. He felt it was just a witty way to respond that the old establishment was probably not looking to do any business with him. That was fine. Balthazar's gang had their own territory and were already rolling in enough cash.

"Dead and alive? Hah. You're right about that" commented Balthazar as he sipped his wine. Shady types like him were dead to the world. They didn't step into daylight. Records of them were rare and purposely faked. The general public feared or abhorred them as if even coming into eye contact with them would lead to their souls being drained. Both dead and alive at the same time. How very true.

Lucas remained silent as he watched the bubbles float up to the surface of his drink and simply pop one by one. How long had it been since he went to the beach? When was the last time he truly laughed? He became a lawyer to get himself out of a sticky situation. Balthazar helped him and his father's business. The glass of Coke in his hand wasn't just so he wouldn't spill secrets. It was also the last sense of normalcy he held onto. When all the bubbles finished popping, the glass of soda goes flat and it's no longer soda anymore. Lucas quietly stared at his boss' back. Lucas didn't want to accept it at first, but he knew what the bartender meant. Balthazar was still unaware. But Lucas didn't say anything at all. He wanted to see his boss... be alive.

Balthazar watched more customers arrive. One even had a prosthetic leg. Interesting what technology companies can do. Perhaps it was a prototype. And with the other customer, a device which foamed and stopped the bleeding - now THAT was something he was interested in. So this place was a distribution centre. By why wasn't he aware of these inventions?! He sold everything, even guns and weapons stolen from right under the eyes of the military and their scientific labs. Balthazar's head throbbed in pain. His subconscious was trying to remember something important.

"Balty?" went Lucas, setting down his drink.

"I'm fine. Ask if we can buy more of that device. Norman would attack soon enough"

Lucas gave a silent nod and went over to Vyn. "Vyn, is it? I'm Lucas McKenzie. The device which stops bleeding - my boss would be interested in purchasing them, either from you or your supplier. Money is not a problem" said Lucas in a polite tone.

@Lady Selune
----

Cookies had finished her saucer of milk and watched as food was taken out of the small compartment. A chill scent filled the air and made her sneeze. She looked around the cabinet, nuzzling the door a little. She wondered what other kind of magical foods would come out. And so Cookies just sat there and gave a little meow. 'Hi, food door!' would probably be what the furball was trying to say in cat-speak.

@Silent Showers

The woman balenced a little precariously as she waited and took the scredriver with a smile lifting the dress higher hem exposing a metalic panel and a recessed engraved logo , clicking it open and removing a battery like object carefully. Placing screw driver back on counter and finding a replacement in her hand bag before a solid push locked battery and panel closed automatically as her dress slid back to normal and red lights began to turn orange as it powered back up.


Relieved at the fact she could now walk again in a few minutes or so and relaxed a alittle with balence slowly returning to normal. "Thankyou, most helpful. I can wait. It does not restart instantly. This is a suitable place to sit for a while" Taking the wine glass delicately balenced in one hand and this bartender had good taste in wine. A rarity.

Watching with some intrigue how a person ews healed that quickly by whatever that medical miracle was. That would of been handy. Or leggy...

Watching intrigued as someone she thought might need a ambulance was healed by white foam before peoples every eyes it was hard not to be entralled by it all. The tone of thr gentlemens question very very much intrested, either they had a dangerous profession or where a very well paid doctor. Sipping the glass of wine slowly and savoring the fruity flavours."Damn... That would of been nice to have a few years ago. I was sure we would be seeing paramedics. Luckily its a medical miracle."

What could she say, this place was unique. Someone was trying to buy off someone some advanced tech, the woman looked like she fought a small bear and the bar had decent house wine? "You gonna be alright? You probbly should sit down or least lean on something? You look rather shakey? And probably should avoid alcohol tight now.

Hey kitty. Your cute, be careful.

Yes, it's a prototype The Artic facility i was at, it sank. Mars look after us though. " Cute kitty, this place was rather stramge, miricale tech, cats, was that even legal? Someone whom was a tad... Smartly dressrd. Someome beaten up. A cat... You could not make it up. Ok maybw that was abrupt but he probbly was going to ask eventually, better to confront than akward silence, anyway it sometimes sparked Intresting mommemts to challenge people's polite efforts not to look.

@SilverRain@Silent Showers@Zoey Boey@Lady Selune

Ooh. Food. She took another sip of her milkshake as the woman sprayed on the skin-foam (Guarenteed to Seal in 1-2-3!) and could only chuckle at her reply. "Ain't my role to judge, I just bring 'em in if I get 'em." She patted the other woman on the back a little bit and took the devices back, handing the spray can over to the bartender. "Could you be a gent and bin that? Ain't no good after you used 'em once." Once she had done so she would take a few of the chips, savouring them slowly. Delicious. Truly delicious... And the onion rings! So crunchy she swore she'd chipped a tooth! Marvellous! "Gosh, my compliments to the chef, these are fantastic."

Of course, her mood was dragged down fairly quickly by the ne'er-do-well looking to buy the skin-foam can. "Err... Gent, you can get that at most pharmacies. It's just like a plaster aint'it? The other one were just some painkillers and an autoinjector. Nothing you can't get either." Gosh that bourbon was nice. She could get very, very drunk off of it very, very quickly. Probably not a good idea.

"Did I go back in time or what? Y'alls folks never seen 2122 tech? Digi-structors? Auto-injectors? Voidsuits? Am I missin' somethin' here?"

The woman nodded warily at the bartender's ominous quote about how death and life don't matter much here. Knitting her eyebrows together, she seemed to quickly accept the absurdity of the situation she had found herself in. Resigned to the utter, baffling nature of this bar between time and space. What was there to do, other than order a drink?

She raised her eyebrows and dimpled her cheeks at the batting of her back, not exactly shrinking away or welcoming the touch. She looked down at the delicious looking onion rings and seemed to conclude that she could really use a bite to eat as well. The previously hoodied-woman waved off the concerns of the bionic lady. The brunette shook the wooden stool she was sitting on to indicate she would be fine.

The brunette hissed out a laugh and raised her eyebrows at Vyn. "2122...? Yeah. You're from the future. Or...I guess, I'm from the past. Where I'm from it's...uh..." Her eyes glazed over for a moment. "...1999." She nodded, reassuring herself and tapping the bar counter. Once again she found herself looking at the onion rings before leaning over the bar.

"Hey, uh...mister bartender. You think I could get some whisky and like...steak, or something?" She asked tentatively. After a moment, she took another puff of smoke from her cigaratte and leaned over even closer. "You...you sure it's free?"

An alien hum could be heard emanating from the darkness of an alley across the way as a silver cylinder a little taller than your average human materialized into view, the hum growing in intensity before coming to a complete and abrupt stop. A pair of doors on the cylinders front opened and a man clad in red stepped out, taking a moment to readjust his coat before closing the doors behind him. Exiting the alley, he gazed about the area until he spotted his target just across the way...

The Wayward Stool.

A quaint little place by all accounts, and as such the perfect location in which to waste away the rest of his council approved leave. Striding forth, Kalo made his way across the rain-slicked street, doing his best to ignore the torrential downpour relentlessly slamming against the top of his head. Stepping up to the Wayward's entrance, he laid his hand against the door. Pushing it open he stepped inside, water running from his coat in small yet steady streams. Making his way past the other patrons and over to the bar, he took a seat on the nearest stool with a loud squish.

"Barkeep," he said, motioning for the man with a practiced wave. "A ginger ale if you have one please."

@Silent Showers

Following one sodden man came another. This one was not dressed in red, although the now-tranluscent white shirt he wore, along with the black waistcoat, trousers, very polished shoes and dripping wet fedora hat suggested that he had, indeed, been dressed for some sort of occasion prior to his current state. In one arm he held a hard case for a music instrument, in the other was clutched a now entirely soused slip of cardboard. He sighed heavily, reached up to the top of his head and let the rivulets of rain that had collected there spill down onto the ground, sweeping them back out the door with his foot. "Apologies for the mess," he would mutter, before looking around and processing the information that he was taking in.

Placing his instrument case against the ground, he patted his waistcoat down, as if searching for something, before pulling out a sleek stainless steel cigarette case. It flicked open with ease, the man drawing out a single hand-rolled white stick, placing it to his lips, and then extracting a match. Rubbing frantically at his trousers with his forearm, once it had been dried enough he would spark the match against the roughspun fabric, before touching the lit match to his ciagarette. Breathing in deeply, he let out a sigh, shaking out the match in a single smooth action.

Picking up his instrument case, he would head towards the bar, looking in faint amusement at the woman with the fancy suit and the other woman with the glowy robo-leg. "There a con in town or something? You guys put a lot of work into those costumes, huh." He would turn to the bartender, before noticing that another patron was smoking too.

"S'cuse me, mind if we share the ashtray? He let out what was supposed to be a winning smile, but in his drenched state was really more of a wilted grin, then turn to the bartender for good. "This is gonna seem a might bit weird what with this being a bar and all, but you guys have coffee? Doesn't have to be good, I promise you."