Happy Hour [Open]

[Marko Iliev]

It had been a long time since dusk, were Marko to estimate. The sky outside was dark and the bar was crowded with people huddled together, either around the counter or the numerous tables filling the rest of the room. Either way, this wasn't an expensive bar, and usually it got busier the darker the night got. Sure, Marko could afford the high-class lounges on the other side of the district, which were generally quieter and more relaxed, but he found most, if not all of them, lacked any kind of soul, nor did the air or the furnishings have the musty scent of smoke and alcohol that had seeped in year after year after year, and nor were the people who went particularly interesting. Nobles were - well, nobles, usually, after all. This wasn't the bar under his ownership, either, which was strange in itself. It wasn't that he was against drinking what was more or less his own stock or anything, he just had his reasons to go elsewhere... Two of which were practically hanging out of a chiffon blouse at the other end of the counter.

He tried not to stare for too long, or too keenly. The entire room was crowed and everyone was packed in like sardines, sure, but even so, the woman was bound to notice being looked at. Or perhaps that was her intention... Perhaps. This was one of the main reasons why he preferred the more common, less affluent bars. No noblewoman would ever walk outside in a shirt that would drop so low under her collarbone. She'd been talking to her friend most of the time he'd been there, occasionally laughing, tossing her hair and - most noticeable to him - touching her neck with her fingers.

He'd called the bartender over not too long ago and sent her a refill of her drink. She'd glanced at him momentarily after having received it, but from there, had done nothing else in response; she had simply gone back to talking with her companion as if nothing had happened. Five minutes later, and he decided he'd have to talk to her first, if he was going to talk to her at all.

Leaving his empty glass at the counter (his seat would most likely be taken within seconds, not that he cared particularly), he pushed through the crowd to the other side. He considered tapping her on the shoulder to gain her attention, but her shoulders were bare and he wasn't sure it would be polite to initiate such skin contact (of course, were he lucky, he would be initiating skin contact with her later... A lot more skin contact - but that was somewhat besides the point). However, leaning over and simply giving her a polite greeting was enough to get her attention.

And it had been a polite greeting. It was what Marko said a couple of minutes later, when deepening the conversation, that she had obviously disliked considerably. He had convinced himself over and over again - numerous times - that he ticked all the lady killer boxes. Clearly, this was either untrue, or this woman just didn't appreciate his attempt in the slightest, as the moment he muttered something suggestive into her ear, she gave him a slap across the face in response, her reflexes as quick as a whip. Which left the woman in a bad mood, her friend with her eyebrow cocked disdainfully at Marko, and he himself with a rather nasty looking red handprint on the side of his face.

[Feliks £ukasiewicz]

This wasn’t Feliks’ usual bar. He usually preferred to frequent the finer establishments where potential clients relaxed, but sometimes one had to spend time with your sources, lest they turn around and sell to other people. This also wasn’t a bar he could come to as Felicja because the rougher folk here were less likely to respect a “no” when they’d gotten a few drinks in them, and even more likely to get violent when they discovered he wasn’t a she.

But he was there tonight, drinking cheap vodka with those who specialize in liberating objects from their rightful owners. At least they were smart enough to not pick his pockets. If they did, they knew he would no longer buy from them. It was one small blessing in this dive; he knew that his thieves would protect him as their source of income. Still the blonde was acutely aware of his surroundings, so every unusual sound made him jump. When the crack of a slap broke the air, Feliks’ eyes instantly found the source. His concerned face developed a smirk when he saw the man involved, Marko Iliev. The man seemed to turn up when both of them were not where they were supposed to be. Feliks wondered how he didn’t notice him before, and decided that he was done drinking for the evening and waved off a refill.

[eire]

From past experiences, Aoife knew that this was the sort of bar where being a woman by herself was not the smartest move. It was a rough part of town, another well known fact. That was why, this evening, she had gone to the trouble to tie her hair up tightly, hide it under her cap and go wearing some of her "manly" clothes. Yes, tonight Aoife wasn't enjoying a drink down at the pub. She was now a he who went by the name Connor. Maybe it was a little extreme to come up with a name for her alter-ego, but she he enjoyed getting into character like this.

The only reason she went to this much trouble for such a pub was because it was the only pub in Atheros that served Guinness. And, well, Aoife had been going without the black stuff for a month and, in her opinion, it was a month too long.

As she sat up at the bar, enjoying the bitter beer, she couldn't help but notice two people a little further down from her. Like her, they clearly didn't belong in this bar. Unlike her, it was because they appeared to be rich, noble-looking people. One of the men had longish blonde hair and the other was dark and, she hated to admit, rather handsome.

The redhead smirked to "himself" as "he" cast his eyes back down at his glass. What were people like them doing in a place like this?!

Aoife Connor was distracted from his thoughts when he noted the darker man approaching the bartender. An eyebrow was raised in curiosity as he watched the man start a conversation with the woman. Whatever he had said clearly did not go down well, as suddenly a loud slap rang though the air.

Connor grinned as the man was left with a red handprint on his face. It was hard not to snigger at it. In fact, the next thing "he" knew, the Hibernian was laughing loudly.

"That's what you get for disrespecting a lady!" Aoife snorted, lowering her voice by an octave. After all, she couldn't really draw attention to herself as a woman.

[awesome]

Hole's in the wall, dives, the 'bad' part of town, those were some of Gilbert's favorite types of bars. He liked them, not for their skivvy atmospheres nor the patrons, most who intentions were often more than just a simple drink, no, not for any of those reasons. He liked these shit-tastic bars, loved them even, for their liquor and beer.

Most people who knew him would probably stare at him like he'd lost his mind if they heard his reason. It probably didn't make sense to many, especially those from his same 'class', but Gilbert, although a noble, didn't much care for the rest of them. Personality wise, they were mostly a bunch of pompous twats. In a bar like this one, the albino could be himself and didn't have to put up with anyone just for the sake of 'politeness'. Anyone who decided to try their sticky fingers on him quickly learned their lessons.

But back to the alcohol, oh gott was it good. It wasn't expensive, and sure there was some shit that Gilbert was pretty sure was pulled straight from a doctor's med cabinet, but the beer, the beer was rich, dark and juuuuuuuuust right. Smiling down at his glass, Gilbert took a deep whiff of his drink and sighed with contentment before bringing it to his lips. He wasn't in the mood to partake in any shenanigans tonight. No tonight his goal was to simply enjoy his drink. That didn't stop his attention getting caught by the lad a seat down from him as he snorted into a fit of laughter and called out to a man, another noble from the look of it.

"That's what you get for disrespecting a lady!"

Gilbert found his voice off, almost like he was in puberty, but that thought didn't stop the albino from leaning back in his seat slightly to see what the redhead was chortling about. A smirk graced his lips at the sight of an obvious hand print on the face of a man at the other end of the bar. He sincerely hoped that his fellow noble didn't think that his 'class' gave him any sex-appeal to these ladies. Any woman that would want in his pants around places like this, would most likely only want the fat wallet they were sure was stuffed inside. Shaking his head, Gilbert returned to his beloved drink.

[Marko Iliev]

Rejection was not something Marko handled well... Or, handled at all, really. And what was worse, most of the bar had apparently seen that. Usually he didn't give a damn if there were people staring at him, but usually he didn't get nasty slaps on the face. He left the woman with her friend and dragged his feet back towards where he was sat before - only to find the seat had been taken by a newcomer. Well, great.

He would have shrugged it off by the morning, but for now, the rebuff had left him in a foul mood... And anyone who knew him well enough would be aware that he was like a time bomb in said kind of mood. Unfortunately, there was no one present at the scene who knew him that well.

And so, when he passed a kid sat at the bar who scoffed, "That's what you get for disrespecting a lady!" whilst he was still in earshot, it lit the fuse of that bomb. He stopped dead in his tracks, turning his head towards the red-haired boy, his brow knitted, and his eyes bleak.

"Care to run that by me again?" His tone was unwavering, though not yet outrightly threatening. Yet.

[Feliks £ukasiewicz]

With the red headed lad's comment and Marko's reaction, Feliks could feel the whole atmosphere of the bar change. Everyone anticipated a fight, this was one of those bars where fights broke out nearly every night. With a bunch of liquered up roughs it tended to disolve that way no matter what. While the crossdresser was armed, one had to be stupid to come to this part of town unarmed, stupid or didn't need weapons, it usually ended up better for him if he found a protector.
Feliks started scanning the crowd for one, while his thieve freinds would protect him, they were more likely to jump into the fray, chancing bruises for picking pockets. He needed a more upstanding gentleman. His green eyes settled on a familiar head of white hair. Feliks smiled, "perfect" he thought to himself. He excused himself from his tablemates and crossed through the still bustling bar, because even though the air was tense business continued till the fight stopped it.
He leaned in close and whispered in his ear, "Fancy meeting you here, Mr Beilschmidt."

[awesome]

Why was it that on the nights Gilbert just wanted a good beer and some peace and quiet all the problem children seemed to gather around him? He watched as the skinny jackass made his way down the bar, and began what could lead to an ugly confrontation with the fiery red head a seat away. Why was it that gingers always had to open their damn mouths anyway? Had to comment on some dumb shit getting smacked. Gilbert was very sure he wasn't going to back down from the challenge either. Had to be something with the hair. Red made 'em stupid.

Right as the military man was starting to consider moving his seat, not wanting to be so close to the middle of tonight possible bar room brawl, a chill crawled down his spine as a soft voice whispered into his ear. Jerking back, he blinked at the intruder, his cheeks flushed lightly pink in embarrassed surprise. Gilbert just started at the blonde man, a bit confused. He looked familiar but the albino couldn't put his finger on it. "Ja....Hi......Do I know you?" He gave the other a hesitant once over, leaning away from him as he took another long swallow of his beer.

[eire]

Aoife was finding it hard not to cackle as the arrogant rich guy turned around to face her. He looked pretty pissed off with her, to say the very least. He then spoke to her, clearly threatening her with his tone.

"Care to run that by me again?"

The redhead smirked and set down her glass, raising an eyebrow in also an almost threatening gesture. She wasn't scared of this guy at all. Aoife spent the majority of her time fighting off brutes, so there was no way this rich snob would intimidate her. On the contrary, he should have been scared of her.

"I said," Aoife began as she stood up and pushed her sleeves to her elbows. "That's what you get for disrespecting a lady. Although I'm pretty sure you did hear me, pretty boy."

The redhead grinned and pulled the cap concealing her long hair down lower over her eyes. She knew she was about to get into a fight, which she was more than ready for. After all, everyone needed to let off steam occasionally.

"Connor" tilted his head to one side, his smirk widening as he cracked his knuckles. The Hibernian was going to enjoy this.

Ignoring the two behind her who seemed to be watching, the redhead took a step forward, almost inviting the noble to take a swing at her.

[Marko Iliev]

The fuse was getting shorter and shorter by the second... But, when Marko lifted his chin, standing out of his disgruntled half-slump to his full height, it sunk in that the red-head back-chatting at him really was just a kid. Or, looked like one, anyway. Seven or eight years ago, and he might have just smacked him one already... But initiating such a fight, even if the half-pint wanted it, wasn't going to look good on his part – especially now several pairs of eyes were on them, the air in the bar having dropped eerily.

"Connor." He repeated slowly, his accent rolling the 'r' sound. The initial anger on his expression melted away into an amused look, a slight smirk crossing his lips – though, the ire in his otherwise dull eyes was still very much there. "I think I've changed my mind. Run that by me again in about five years' time, little boy. I don't have it in me to want a fight anyone shorter than my sister." Well, not unless they planned on pushing their luck, and part of Marko was convinced the red-haired boy wasn't going to just sit down and be quiet after him saying that.

[Feliks £ukasiewicz]

Feliks bit back a chuckle at the military man's surprise, this wasn't a time for mirth. "I'm Feliks Łukasiewicz." He offered his hand with a small smile, "I've seen you at Lord Bonnefoy's parties." The blonde hoped that this shared connection would be enough for Gilbert to aid him in case a fight did happen.
He was keeping half an eye on the argument at the other end of the bar. Feliks couldn't beleive that Marko was provoking the redhead, but at the same time he wasn't really surprised.