After his first, and last visit, to Inferno he had steered clear of the place. Partially due to a wee bit of guilt about keeping Kendra's snooping a secret, but mostly it was him not wanting to run into the poor lass he'd spilt scotch over. That had been heart breaking. It had been good scotch, right from his home town too and it was just wasted like that. Nearly enough to make a Scotsman cry.

Considering the day he'd had and how close the club had been, there wasn't really another choice. Maybe this time though he'd actually get to finish his drinks peacefully, or at least as peaceful as the inside of a popular club can be. Heading in the front doors and nodding at the perky secretary behind the counter, he set off towards the entrance to the club proper. A quick check by the bouncers on the door that he was who he said he was and he was in. Not many people were there at the moment, but he was there early by club standards so he was hardly surprised.

Catching the bartenders eye he raised his voice to be heard over the music. "I'll be needing a double of Highland Park please lad, neat. And a beer, what ever's cold and cheap will do." His drinks came pretty quickly, and after handing over the money for them, he turned to try to survey the room, maybe see if there was a booth available, he went over the day in his head.

How the hell had he gotten himself dragged into not just taking Sarah to one of the classes she had with other young mutants, but taking part with her. Worse, Devon had just laughed him off when he'd frantically called and asked where her chaperone was for it. Artair was getting the sneaking suspicion it had been planned.

Chugging the beer and being pleasantly surprised by the half decent flavour, he wandered over towards the back, towards an empty looking booth. Looking in he was so glad to find it free, a good sit and relax with a drink was on the books. Getting comfy and pulling out one of his mutant biology books, he figured a little bit of studying wouldn't hurt either. At least no one would bother him here. Or insist on piggy back rides. 

Technically, the prawn had no need to be on the floor. She was a manager now—the manager had every right to stay up in their office, awaiting a page downstairs in order to handle an unruly customer or make some official decisions… paperwork, arrangements, whatever. She shouldn’t be out on the floor. Yet, here Jack was, milling about the floor, bone mic in-ear.

She was very obviously not part of the staff—while the staff wore slacks and black button-down shirts, Jack was in a maroon shirt, white tie, and black vest. She looked very sharp. If the difference in attire wasn’t hint enough, the gold name tag that proclaimed her name (Jacquelyn Dyer) and her title (Inferno Manager), set her apart from the rest of the staff.

The prawn was just coming down the stairs, which spit her out towards the corner of the restaurant. She’d make her rounds, check-on the patrons and wait-staff, make sure everything was running smoothly. Heck, maybe she’d even get to help out on the floor.

The first table she paused at was occupied by a lone redheaded man and a single beer.

“How are you doing tonight, sir?” the prawn greeted, lightly tapping the table with one of her primary hands, “Has you ‘een recei’ing good ser’ice tonight?”

Despite the black surgical mask that covered her mouthparts, the prawn spoke clearly and resolutely. This was a fairly scripted exchange and therefore not one she was self-conscious about. Were the patrons of the club getting good service? That was a fair question for the manager to be asking.

Half out of self interest, half professional curiosity, he was currently head deep in the psychics section of the textbook. He had hoped there would be some useful categorises he could refer to, but this particular book was more focused on physical mutations themselves, and the effects on the body. Just starting on the third autopsy report from some poor sod who had overused their power, he was interrupted by someone tapping the table in front of him.

Glancing up he was confronted by a fairly tall figure, pretty well dressed and pretty obviously a mutant. They were, well like a giant shrimp of some kind. It was pretty damn amazing, he could only imagine how their mutation worked.

"Hmm, what?" Shaking away his inner nerd, he took in what had been said. "Sorry, I was away with the faeries there." He hadn't exactly been here often but he couldn't really fault the service. "It's been pretty good, certainly don't have any complaints." If anything his last experience with the staff here had been great. The poor guy behind the bar had easily dealt with an irate Scotsman who's drink had been stolen.
 
Glancing them up and down, he couldn't believe he'd missed the name tag before, it was pretty obvious. Jacquelyn huh? Nice name, old french if he was remembering right. Her being the manager explained the inquiry and her very nice clothes. Made him look a little shabby in comparison, but Devon had given him access to a well stocked bar and he wasn't letting things like that stop him.

"Nice to meet you Miss Dyer," he said standing up and offering a hand, "I'm Artair Hawke." He might be a grumpy northerner, but his dad had drilled good manners into him. 'Manners maketh the man', as he was so fond of saying. "Devon invited me hear as part of Haven, and I wasn't going to say no to good scotch. Great selection by the way."

>> "Hmm, what? Sorry, I was away with the faeries there. It's been pretty good, certainly don't have any complaints."

Jack nodded in wordless approval, glad to hear that her staff was up to par. As the redhead drank her appearance in, Jack turned to begin to leave. She wanted to make her rounds. And, typically, after a short exchange people were perfectly content to return to their business and forget about the iridescent prawn with whom they just spoke. This redhead seemed to have other plans, however, as he sprung from his seat.

Jack turned to face him once again.

>> "Nice to meet you Miss Dyer, I'm Artair Hawke. Devon invited me hear as part of Haven, and I wasn't going to say no to good scotch. Great selection by the way."

Ah, yes-- the outreach group. That was one of Haddon's projects, wasn't it? Haven... Jack distractedly yet lightly exchanged a handshake with Artair, bowing her head slightly.

"It's a 'leasure," Jack rumbled, "And 'lease, you can just call me Jack."

She wasn't one formality, though the gesture of actually reading her nametag was deeply appreciated. She clicked at the comment about the scotch, glancing towards the bar. It was mostly Devon's choices that had outfitted the bar, and the prawn.

"He's got good taste," the prawn said simply. She was more of a bourbon person, herself, but she new enough of the scotch to make an educated guess about it.

"I don't 'anna kee' you s-run you reading," the prawn said politely, nodding towards Artair's book. Or his drink, for that matter, but that was implied.

"Jack it is," if that's what she preferred. He tended to remember what people generally wanted to be called, since he'd had so many issues with it growing up. 

That was an understatement. He had some of the best scotchs available, even some of the more obscure brands generally only know to the less casual whiskey drinker. The fact his home town whiskey was on offer had nothing to do with his attitude at all.

Smiling when she nodded towards the book, he needed the distraction to be honest, it was not easy reading. Artair could only stomach so many cold clinical descriptions of the make up of a persons brain before he was done. "Don't worry about it, just some required reading for one of my courses, honestly hard to read it for extended periods of time."

Any other time he would be worried about it being embarrassing, given the company, but after dealing with an excitable child for a few hours, he was done with caring right now.

When his phone went off and he saw who had sent the message, he could only wonder what kind of demonic timing Sarah had. With more hearts and emoji's than was really needed, she was reminding him about his promise from earlier. Why on earth had he agreed to taking her to the mansion and worse, how the hell was he going to arrange that.

Though Inferno was a pleasant change of pace from Chrysalis, a nightclub was still a nightclub-- the pulsating music, scintillating dancefloor, and alcohol-imbued enjoyments made many of the patrons similarly high-energy. It was rare to find someone tucked into some forgotten corner, pouring over a book. Much less a textbook, which was expensive and required more mental gymnastics to process than the sh*tty paperbacks that Jack sometimes read.

Given all of that, Jack was more inclined to keep Artair company, than she was with other patrons. He seemed like someone that was more her pace.

"Nay I?" she asked, gesturing to the seat opposite of where Artair had been. Should he grant her permission to join him, Jack would wedge herself onto the bench opposite of him, her legs bowing out awkwardly in order to fit under the table.

"Are you really a'le to get studying done here?" the prawn said skeptically, surveying the textbook, "Seens like 'retty dense stu-ss..."

Artair could do with the company and he was honestly looking for a distraction from the morbid contents of the book. "Be my guest," he replied, returning to his seat, "far be it for me to say no after all and I could do with some company." It helped that his mind was still nerding out a little over her mutation but he did have some tact after all. Asking for in depth information about someones power after just meeting them was not his style. Manners were important.

Laughing at the question, he never really considered how odd it looked from the outside. "Yeah, I can generally tune it out. Spent most of my teenage years studying in a much more distracting environment so it honestly feels more comfortable to have noise in the background." The people in the neighbouring rooms to his often complained about his music being too loud during his study session.

"It's just what I'm used to I guess. But yeah, the subject is pretty hard to read. You'd think a medical student would be more used to this kind of stuff but," shrugging rather than finishing the sentence, he took a swig of his drink.

"How about yourself. What do you do, other that this, of course," he asked, genuinely interested in the answer.

>> "Be my guest. Far be it for me to say no after all and I could do with some company."

The prawn slid into the booth, sitting bow-legged so as to not bump knees with the patron. This was hospitality, wasn’t it? Making small-talk with solo patrons? Sure it was… once seated and settled-in, the prawn clasped her hands and surveyed the redhead with a steady gaze. Her comment about the studying environment earned a laugh, to which the prawn arched a brow-ridge. She wasn’t trying to be funny—she was genuinely perplexed by the man’s decision to study in the club. Artair, however, hastily explained that he was accustomed to studying in loud environments.

“So you’re in your ele-nent,” the prawn concluded, nodding her head. To each their own, she supposed. She’d barely been able to navigate trashy romance novels at Chrysalis, much less a textbook.

Artair went-on to explain that the subject was difficult to read, despite being a “medical student”. The prawn’s shoulders tensed imperceptibly. Ugh, medical students… something about their intellectual curiosity unnerved her. Perhaps because she felt like some sort of sample under a microscope, some sort of dehumanized specimen, around them. Most medical students were perfectly pleasant—hell, she was dating Zinnia. Zinnia was a blessing in the prawn’s life. But unfamiliar ones? They made her stomach knot.

>> "How about yourself? What do you do, other that this, of course."

Artair was nice enough, though, she gave him that. The inquiry drew the prawn’s attention back towards the young man. (And it was then that Jack noticed her attention had been pulled to the wall—oops.)

“ ‘ork at a school, too,” Jack said, “Security. It’s a nice change uzz scenery. Kid’s are so… awe-son.”

Jack was being a little guarded, after the revelation that Artair was a medical student. Not consciously so, but guarded nonetheless.

In his element? Apparently he was, as weird as it sounded to him. When he'd really gotten into the need to study, getting away from a noisy environment hadn't really been an option. Now he was just used to it, most times he couldn't study unless there was at least some sort of background noise to stop him getting distracted.

She worked at a school, that was interesting. A little sad too, that schools needed security nowadays. Artair was starting to realise just how bad things were for children in America when they needed guarding in one of the few places they should be safe. Well, looking at Jack, he one she worked at would be pretty safe. Not many people would mess with a seven foot tall shrimp person. "Aye, cannae argue with that. Kids are pretty amazing, all things considered." He might grumble about Sarah, but he genuinely loved the time he spent with her.

"Can be a handful though. Thanks to one particular one, I've got to find a way to get a tour of the X mansion for her. Somehow." She was way too curious for him to handle and had an annoying tendency to say just the wrong thing for the right reasons. It was cute when she obsessed over his accent though and he couldn't blame her for wanting to know more about the world. He was kind of the same way.

Shaking away the thoughts, he returned his attention to Jack. "But that's my problem, shouldn't be bothering you with it." Didn't seem right to unload some of his burdens on a stranger, even one as interesting as this. 

The prawn's antennae lifted at the man's mention of the "X-Mansion", as did an incredulous lift of her brow.

"X-nansion... as in... Xa'iers?" Jack inquired, her guarded attitude beginning to drop, "Do you has a kid who's nyu-tant?"

Of course, anyone was welcome to enroll in Xavier's. It wasn't as though an active X-gene was a requirement. It's just that, for the most part, mutants tended to gravitate towards the school as a sort of safe-haven.

She leaned closer, her elbow on the table. Her genuine interest was tangible. And, Artair's response pending, she might make his arrangments for a tour much more straightforward. He seemed like a good guy (Jack was a good judge of character), but she had to be absolutely certain of his intentions.

He shouldn't really be surprised she'd heard of it. Most people in New York could rattle off a list of things about the place, most bad, and even world wide it had name recognition. What he was surprised by was her thinking he had a child of his own. Surely he didn't look old enough?

"No she's not mine, just a wee lass I've been helping through Haven. Her dad too, now that I think about it." They were a sweet little family, they'd just needed a little help and when it had all been arranged he'd been happy to volunteer time. "She's learning more about mutants like herself, so when she heard I was getting a little training up there, she weaseled a promise I'd show her the place out of me. I'd rather do it by the book, mostly because she'd get a lot more out it anyway, with someone experience doin' the talking."

Sarah was a beautiful little blight on his world. True she was loud, energetic and a right royal pain for him at times, but he did like the little devil all the same. Her curiosity was so damn infectious and he could still perplex and entertain her with his accent.

Sighing and pulling his attention back on course, he looked back to Jack. What was with the interest in his problems?

The prawn listened closely, folding her hands in front of her as she listened. Ah, so he was in Devon's little humanitarian club. His interest in Xavier's in the good of other's definitely helped his case (and helped diminish the "Oh god a med student" instinct). As Artair explained his situation, Jack reached into a pocket on her slacks, fishing-out a hard-sided card case and a Sharpie.

The prawn set the two items on the table before shifting her weight. The card-case was popped open, and a business card was procured. She closed the card-case, uncapped the Sharpie. She then scribbled something on the card.

Jack capped the Sharpie and slid the business card towards Artair, not saying much, at first. The card itself had her contact info for Inferno, but another phone number had been scrawled in ink on its back.

"Xa'ier's is where I work," the prawn said simply, leaning back in her seat, "Could hel' get your kid on a tour. It'd not 'e too nuch trou'le."

Artair wasn't sure where this was going, as Jack silently pulled out a sharpie and, was that a card case? Wait, was she giving him her number. He wasn't exactly complaining but that seemed a little out of the blue, or was he missing something here?

He was missing something here. She was offering to help him set everything up for Sarah. That was kind of amazing, given that he was a stranger to her. "That's a really generous offer. Thanks, genuinely. I know this will mean a lot to Sarah." As bad as his studying had been going, this was proving to be a pretty good visit to Inferno. Way better than his last one at the very least.

Taking the card and placing it securely in his wallet, he returned his attention back her. She was pretty remarkable looking, and nice too considering what she'd just done for him. He couldn't help but wonder why she was helping him. 

"How'd you come to work at the Mansion, if you don't mind me asking?" He was already curious about Jack before, now he was very interested in her, given her helping him out. 

The man offered his thanks, which earned little more than a shrug and a modest, "Don't nention it."

Jack was a huge proponent of recruiting kids to places like Xavier's-- mutant schools. Her own alma mater in San Francisco had been such a postive force in her life-- helped her apply for emancipated minorship, helped her develop her craft-- that she would advocate for them wholeheartedly, given the chance. Artair accepted the card and tucked it away before returning his attention to the prawn.

>> "How'd you come to work at the Mansion, if you don't mind me asking?"

This earned a smile from the prawn. Her surgical mask flexed above the curling maxillipeds, and the corners of her eyes pinched in delight.

"Got in a sight at Target," the prawn said simply, "Sun dude started a row 'iss nee, like I looked at 'n sunny or sun-sing, and dis guy who hel'ed nee out works at Xa'iers. Oss-ered nee a jaw wiss security as-ter dat."

It wasn't a particularly proud moment, but it wa a funny story that the prawn was happy to share with anyone who asked. Or, at the very least, an unlikely one. Very few people got job offers out of fist fights.

Why was his luck so hit and miss. He either got very lucky, meeting the right person at the right time, or was ending up with drinks in his face and broken ribs. It could be very annoying. Although it did introduce him to some very interesting people, so maybe it wasn't all bad.

He could imagine Jack in a fight and it was not a fight he'd want to be in. She was a pretty impressive size, and anything covered in a hard shell could probably hit like a truck. "Can't say I don't understand, it's basically how I auditioned for Devon's side project. Somehow." That was still strange to him. A simple call for backup had become him enrolling in a not-entirely above board group, complete with bar perks. Which had nothing to do with it. At all.

It did seem really cool though, that something like that had netted her a job at a place, he was starting to understand, that did so much good for people. Well, that and as Jack had put it, kids were awesome. "Must be pretty fulfilling though, being able to work at a place like that."

Well, one of his major stresses was sorted, kind of felt silly how worked up it had gotten him before. "Do have to warn you upfront, Sarah is dangerously curious and hasn't really learnt a filter yet." Smiling, her comments about his accent came back to her. "Our first meeting was spent with her constantly mentioning how strange my voice is, that and how pretty Devon is." That had been very funny.