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[open] bars & bookstores

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!]

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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?"

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."

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."

"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."

"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.

Arthur doesn't move, but he regards her body language with a wry smile. He takes a sip of his beer and then puts the glass down thoughtfully, dropping his voice a notch.

"Maybe it's a cultural difference, but you look too young to be here, even with the dress and the heels."

He looks at the dress again. It is very flattering, but--

"How old are you?"

"It's cultural difference," she explains, leaning in just slightly to hear him better.

"I'm eighteen. Plenty old enough to be drinking." And in this bar. Soliciting. "Meanwhile, you couldn't be older than 25." Alright, so her view of ages was pretty skewed. But considering her biggest clients were vampires, she couldn't really judge.

Eighteen. Arthur's eyebrows jump slightly and he looks at her face, considering this new information.

"I'm nearly thirty," he tells her, and leaves it at that. He knows that probably doesn't pose much of a problem for her, but it definitely poses a problem for him - eleven years is a big difference whether one person is a teenager or not. However, he doesn't want to be rude, and part of him doesn't want her to move on to the next guy who'll probably be a creep and won't care that she's basically still a child.

He takes another drink.

"Well you certainly don't look it." She takes another drink, feeling the tides of this interaction turning slightly.

"Let me guess- friends set you two up? Or was it something online?" She's curious, but also looking for her in. He may consider her a child, but Nancy hasn't had the luxury of considering herself that for years. Ask anyone she knew, and she regularly acted much older.

Kenzi would even occasionally call her 'mom' just to drive her up the wall. She just had a big heart. And a decent business model.

"Regardless, it's her loss. You're the last man I'd ever stand up."

Arthur laughs softly, shaking his head. "No, it wasn't like that. I just wanted to talk to her."

His expression sobers a little when he looks into his empty glass, so he glances around for a bartender and asks quickly if they have any scotch. After the bartender replies in the affirmative, Arthur looks back at Nancy with an inquisitive look. He's decided there might be an opportunity in this interaction after all, even if it's not what Nancy's looking for.

"You spend a lot of time in this neighbourhood?"

"Got it," Nancy responded, taking another small sip of her gin. "Scotch, huh? Wise choice." Though she did enjoy her beer, don't get her wrong.

He seems to be settling, so she does, too, if he's gone for a scotch.

"Enough time. I was born and raised in London. I know a lot of it better than most. Looking for recommendations?"

The bartender puts his scotch down on the bar and Arthur takes a sip before he continues, deciding quickly that it's up to his standards, even if it's not actually that great. He puts his glass down and leans in a little more toward Nancy.

"Just wondering if you've noticed anything strange going on lately. You must meet a lot of people around here."

Edited 2015-07-26 17:37 (UTC)

"Yeah?" She raises an eyebrow carefully. Strange goings on. Yes, yes she has. Lots of them. But her world and (presumably) his are drastically different.

"Strange like what? It's London during a hot summer, there's lots of strange things going on every day." She plays it off casually, with another drink.

Arthur smiles thoughtfully at her. He doesn't want this to turn into an interrogation, so he shrugs a shoulder and leans away, taking another sip of his scotch.

"I've just been noticing a lot of activity lately. Especially in the north. People are behaving strangely."

Oh no.

"A bit, yeah. Nothing too unusual. Just drunken idiots, mostly, yeah?" She scratches the back of her neck with her free hand. The hunt. That had been a very miserable week, when she'd been the one being hunted. As much as she was loathe to admit it, Eames had been extremely helpful in keeping her safe and alive.

"Not the sort of people I like to spend time with."

His expression sobers a bit as he nods, gazing down at his scotch. He's sitting up straight in his chair now, both hands on his glass.

"Well, I hope you have somewhere to go when it gets bad. I don't see it getting better."

"I do," she explained. "Those sorts can't get to my place." Well. Unless she invited them. Or they knew where it was, and she tried to keep it as secret as she could, for safety reasons. But bloody Eames knew where it was.

"We'll see. It's like this every summer." She sighs. "Once classes start up again, I'm sure it'll change. Maybe even before then." She knows it will.

"Maybe," he says, tilting his head. He flashes her a quick smile and then lifts his drink to take a sip. "Well, I won't keep you. I'm sure you have other things you'd rather do with your night than talk to me."

Alright, here was the moment. She set down her drink and gently reached over to touch his knee. "But I'd rather spend the night with you." For a fee.

Arthur looks down at the hand on his knee, and if he weren't drunk he'd give her a 'no' and just be done with it. As it is, he is a bit drunk, and he has to contemplate it again, but he arrives at the same conclusion.

He gives her another glance up and down, as if considering, but his smile has faded into something far more sober than he feels. "I'm sorry, it's just not in the cards tonight."

She tries not to frown. "You sure?" She offers again, blinking her false lashes slowly. "We can just talk, if you'd rather." But her time was available at an hourly rate.

"I'm sure," he says. He twists and takes his leather jacket off the back of his stool, slipping off of it one foot at a time.

"I think it's time for me to go home anyway. It was nice meeting you, Nancy."

At least he's kind about it. She just nods, letting go of his leg and turning back to the bar.

"Right. Lovely to meet you, too." Though they likely wouldn't run into each other again. She finishes her gin. Maybe it's time for her to go home, too.

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[open] bars & bookstores

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