[open] bars & bookstores

[specifiercity]

ONE

Arthur has visited a number of used book stores in the past year. Sometimes he wanders into them when he has a few minutes to spare on his way to and from the train, and on occasion he makes a point to visit one and sift through their collections to find something interesting. He'll read just about anything, but his old client taught him what to look for in everything from old fairytales to modern journals, how to see the clues left behind by the supernatural world that no one would pick up on if they didn't already know. Arthur is accumulating a small bookshelf's worth of books with high-lighted passages, with everything from children's nursery rhymes to new journalism from the 60's and 70's.

That's where he is now, standing outside of a small storefront on a sunny day, looking down at a bin of cheap books for something that he might be able to analyze just for fun. It'd be a shame if someone were to interrupt him.

TWO

Arthur's not a guy who hangs out at a bar alone for an hour by choice. Maybe this is obvious by his slouched posture and frown as he stares down at the remainder of his second beer, some shitty draught that seemed a safe choice when he arrived. Having politely rebuffed all of the bartender's attempts at conversation, he must look stood up - and he has been, only not for a date. He was supposed to meet a witch here, someone who could offer a bit of a different insight into what's been going on with Circle Midnight, but she never showed.

He knows he can't expect everyone to be perfectly punctual, but Arthur's in the process of giving up hope that she'll ever walk in. He checks his phone to confirm that it has indeed been fifty eight minutes since he sat down, and then he sighs as he puts it back in his pocket. Guess it's time to polish off this crappy beer that he paid too much for and then head out - that is, unless someone else happens to distract him.

WILDCARD

[Please hit me up if you'd like a different situation!]

Comments

ONE

[detectiveofthewest]

"Oh, I already picked through those," said Heiji. He was holding a small stack of used books, which judging from their titles were divided in half between nonfiction titles (one about hallucinations) and mystery novels. He seemed pretty

"You lookin' for anything specific?"

[specifiercity]

Arthur glances up at Heiji and then shakes his head as he looks back down at the books.

"Just something to read. Preferably something nonfiction but I'm not too picky."

[detectiveofthewest]

"Oh yeah? My friend gave me a book about cadavers recently. It's real interesting -- starts out with the bodies surgeons practice procedures on and goes from there."

But what kind of person would honestly enjoy reading about cadavers? That was the real question here.

[specifiercity]

"Yeah? They find anything weird?"

That's where Arthur's interest lies. Anomalies. He pushes a couple books to the side and then stops to examine another - some romance mystery novel with a wolf man on the front.

[detectiveofthewest]

Was removing people's heads and putting them in little roaster pans for surgeons to practice on weird? Hmm. Heiji decided not; after all, it seemed to be a fairly well-administered practice.

"It does go over some of the more gruesome anecdotes about how the study of anatomy got started. Graverobbing, f'rinstance, and there was that bit on operating theater..."

Maybe Arthur liked werewolf romance. Maybe that was a thing.

[specifiercity]

Arthur doesn't like werewolf romance. After a moment's deliberation, he tosses it aside to keep looking. He glances up at Heiji, giving him a half-smile before looking down at the books again.

"Sounds like something I might find interesting. You remember the name?"

2 yo

[falsify]

Well there's someone sliding onto the stool next to Arthur. It's not his errant date, alas. It's Eames.

He already has a drink with him, (not any of the draughts, he knows better,) having been here for a while already before he noticed Arthur. He'd usually just ignore his presence in this kind of situation, but he's finished his meal and could always do with a bit of entertainment in the form of seeing how much he can wind Arthur up before he goes home.

"Fancy seeing you here."

[specifiercity]

Arthur turns to look at him like he isn't surprised to see Eames there. He's usually pretty good at casing a place at a glance and keeping track of the faces that walk in and out, but this time he must have spent too long looking at his phone waiting for something to intervene with all this awful waiting. He gives Eames a cursory glance-over and then turns back to his drink.

"Are you following me now?"

[falsify]

He scoffs at that, "believe it or not, Arthur, but I have better things to do with my time."

Eames rests an elbow on the bar and glances around thoughtfully, as if about to make an important observation. (He's not.) "I'd be ornery too if I'd been stood up though, so I suppose I can forgive the attitude."

[specifiercity]

"I'm not ornery," Arthur says, in an ornery tone, shooting Eames a sideways look. He glances at the door over Eames' shoulder briefly and then takes a swig of his beer.

"And she still might show up. Some people work on their own time."

Nothing in his voice indicates that he thinks that's a valid excuse.

[falsify]

"How long have you been here?" Eames raises an eyebrow, tone indicating it's very much not a question. He doesn't know how long Arthur's been here, but it's not tough to guess that it's too long to reasonably expect someone to still show up. Especially with no word on their part.

[specifiercity]

A deep, long-suffering sigh escapes Arthur as he swirls the last bit of beer around in his glass.

"Too long," he says. "I had better shit to do tonight than follow up on this lead."

1

[mensrea]

And what could possibly be more intrusive and interruptive than a teenage boy instigating an argument with the store clerk?

“Three pounds!? You couldn’t even buy kindling with that!”

The source of outrage is Stiles Stilinski—who is trying to sell a collection of used titles for some spare money. At least, that’s what it appears he’s up to. Who knows with this kid.

“Hey, buddy, these are some really unique books, okay!? You’re not going to rip me off here. I’ll take my business elsewhere!”

Unimpressed by the teenager with an American accent, the store clerk suggests he does just that. That seems to stump Stiles for all of five seconds.

“…Where’s the manager!? I want to have words with him.”

[specifiercity]

Maybe it's his military background, but Arthur's not exactly the kind of guy to just stay out of a conflict when he sees (or hears) it happening. When he hears Stiles' voice from outside, he sighs in resentment as he loses all the focus he was using to read the back-cover summaries, and he puts down the novel he had in his hand and steps inside.

"There a problem here?"

[mensrea]

A sharp expression ripples across Stiles' face when he realizes the book store has others present. He's not able to immediately tell if this guy is a customer or an employee, though the interference has him leaning toward the latter. Either way, his self-appointed job just got a whole hell of a lot harder. If he's going to steal the book store owner's black book, he needs to get creative now.

"You the manager?" he asks, sounding doubtful. Despite his previously raised voice, there's literally no anger or irritation in his tone.

[specifiercity]

Arthur's far too well-dressed to be the manager of a book store and he has an American accent, but he can see how that might be lost on some people. He considers the options: telling this kid he's the manager might make it easier to tell him to get lost, but on the other hand, does he really want to take on that responsibility?

The decision's pretty easy and he rolls his eyes. "Do I like I'm the manager? Come on kid, you can make a few bucks somewhere else. Leave this guy alone."

[mensrea]

For Stiles, the American accent ultimately means little; his own boss here in Europe happens to be from the states, after all. Lips pursed, he gives Arthur a narrowed once-over and then turns away, seemingly dismissing the guy.

"If you're not the manager, butt out, dude. This is a business arrangement. Between professionals. Professional businessmen."

The store clerk gives him a look like he's lost his mind.

Two

[stauncherhearted]

How about a different Circle Midnight witch? Holding a glass of gin, Nancy had taken notice of Arthur earlier, watching him periodically as the night wore on. He'd been here for nearly an hour, and, from the looks of it, was giving up.

Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

With a quick glance at her reflection to make sure her lipstick was on, she marched through the bar in her short navy bandage dress and patent black heels towards Arthur. Then, she set the (now-empty) drink down next to him and leaned against the bar. "I'll have a gin, please." she told the bartender, before turning to look up at Arthur. Slowly, she looked him up and down as though devouring him with her eyes. "She hasn't shown up yet?"

[specifiercity]

Arthur's not immune to the right shade of lipstick and a tight dress, but he's only had a couple beers stretched out over an hour and he still has his wits about him. She's young, probably too young, and she's completely misjudged his intentions here. But he may be misjudging her too, so he makes a decision to roll with it and sighs, taking another swig of beer.

"No. Don't think she will."

[stauncherhearted]

Nancy knows all of the right combinations to get what she needed from strangers. The right bra, the right shoes, right dress, lipstick, all of it. But it's a costume, a uniform, and she knows it. Even if others don't.

"Her loss." The bartender slides her drink to her, and she picks it up, but not before extending her hand to him. "I'm Nancy."

[specifiercity]

"Arthur."

As he takes her hand, he sits up on his stool and turns his body toward her just a little. She is very pretty, if that's the right word, but Arthur likes to think of himself as a smart man who isn't so easily taken in. Still, he smiles softly.

"I guess a man who's been stood up is pretty easy to spot."

[stauncherhearted]

"Lovely to meet you, Arthur." She shakes his hand, before taking a slow drink of her gin, keeping her eyes on his.

"He is- I'm sorry it happened to you. You look like the decent sort." Slowly, she angled herself towards him just slightly.

One

[rules_winter]

Mab exits the shop, a bag folded carefully down to cover her prize, a third edition of folktales from the Black Forest. She pauses, feeling satisfied and letting her eyes roam the street for a moment before glancing aside at the young man next to the bin. He seems to be completely focused on the books and she can closes her eyes for a moment, reaching down next to him to pull a buried book out that flutters with a little magic, long pale fingers flipping it over to read the title. Ah yes. Y Tylwyth Teg by Hugh Evans Gan. It is definitely in Welsh, but that wouldn't stop someone devoted to their studies and it's also illustrated. She held the book out to him. "Perhaps something to challenge you." Her voice was clear, authoritative with a touch of something like amusement. "Or perhaps I misjudged."

[specifiercity]

He pauses and looks up at her, taking a moment to wonder how he missed her walking in or out of the store. His eyes drift from her face to the book in her hand and he stumbles over his words briefly.

"Oh, ah-- thanks." He takes it, examining it while his eyebrows knit together. "Haven't tried Welsh yet. I've kind of been avoiding it..."

He speaks with a nervous honesty that feels foreign to him. Swallowing, he gathers himself and gestures with the book. "Sure you don't want it?"

[rules_winter]

It takes him a moment to focus but he gets there eventually. Her hand falls back to her side and she dips her head a little acknowledging the thanks. "The Welsh are excellent with music as well as folktales." She replied. "I believe there are two professors at Oxford who might assist if you find yourself having difficulties. One is Welsh herself and the other has studied it extensively."

Her eyes drop back to the book and her lips curl up a little. "I have a signed copy in my own collection already." Her copy is in significantly better shape.