Having worked an late morning-to-evening shift at Xavier's, Jack found herself walking home during a time when most participants in urban nightlife (and all that it entails) were venturing their way out of doors to begin the night. Thugs, partygoers, and anything in between... and Jack. The prawn walked briskly, keeping the hood of her sweatshirt pulled close to her head. She had the advantage of towering over most individuals, so she was able to cut through the thick of  the crowd. 

Along her route home, she passed a familiar nightclub, her other place of business. The hum of the neon sign beckoned to her, and the doorman was too preoccupied with the crowd before him to notice the familiar figure approaching from his side.

Jack had no plans, for the evening. She was just going to go home, curl up with her laptop and catch some shows on Webflix. Stopping in for a drink wouldn't hurt. She dropped her hood and reached into her pocket, rummaging out her wallet for her ID. As she fished out her wallet, she also fished out a 10$ bill and tucked it behind the ID. and she made her way to the rope. 

The doorman was a mutant man, just shy of six-feet and built robustly-- over his back, arms, and crown of his head were armored plates. His ears stuck out to the side, and  a short tail barely skimmed the ground. 

"Hey, Roadie," Jack greeted. "Roadie" as in "Roadkill", because he looked like an armadillo. Jack didn't make the names. But Roadie didn't take offense to the nickname, so it stuck. Just like everyone called her Chief.

"'ey Chief," Roadie rasped, looking up as he stamped some patrons' hands, "Been a while. You here for a drink?"

"Yeah," Jack grunted affirmatively, offering her ID. It was more of a formality than much else. Roadie knew her, knew she was of age... but if she was skipping the line, it would serve her well to bribe her friend a bit, regardless. Roadie pocketed the ten, unhooked the rope, and ushered her in.

The techno music swallowed Jack whole, the bass reverberating to her core. She walked down the foyer onto the main dance floor, before skirting around the edge and ascending the stairs to the "library". Though the space upstairs provided no protection from the pulsating music, smatterings of benches kept a majority of the dancers downstairs. Jack found a place at the bar where she could lean on her elbows. One of the bartenders, a young fair-skinned woman, caught sight of the prawn. Jack waved casually, and the woman finished delivering her order before approaching the prawn.

"What are you doing here?" the woman teased, "Isn't it your night off?"

"Can't get 'nuss o' diss 'lace," Jack drolled.

"Yeah, sure. Want the usual?"

The prawn nodded, and the woman turned tail with a smirk, the scent of rose petals following in her wake. This particular bartender had some froufrou power. Apparently she had a shrewd nose that could track a man by their scent, but also never needed perfume, as she could emulate any scent she'd ever smelled. Huh.

A meandering primary hand found a stray coaster, and the prawn spun the coaster on the counter-top. Maybe she'd go sit outside once they barkeep finished with her drink.

(ooc: I envision Chrysalis to look like this with a patio space connected to on the roof, which one can access by going upstairs, and then up another flight of stairs (have yet to decide where).)

Wow, yep. This was definitely the place.

Devon had searched for a mutant friendly bar and club the way he'd found Sanctuary: Google. More than a few Yelp reviews had mentioned the mutant staff and chill atmosphere at the pounding dance club. He'd gone over a month without turning into a party monster or alcoholic with his new 21+ license. He felt safe to check one out, catch a drink, and unwind. Hopefully he could meet some cool people there.

Of course, he was also looking for a mutant friendly space for hosting events, but also getting involved in the Block Party he and the other volunteers were trying to organize. It had looked good from the outside. The bouncer had been an intense dude. Devon waited in line, a dude without girls at his side, and been patient. He'd thrown some cash at the bouncer too and gotten his name: Roadie apparently.

And now there was a giant insect person next to him at the bar. He'd seen mentions of the Chief online. This was definitely her, if the pronoun use he'd seen was right too. How could you tell? Not that it mattered to Devon. Gender binaries weren't really a thing anymore for humans, let alone mutants. Of course he was pretty much a cisgender dude. Sexuality on the other hand was a bit difficult to define.

He listened to their exchange, trying to place the accent but finally conceding Chief probably just spoke differently than most. He doubted she had the same voice box or tongue so that meant talking in other ways. Devon sipped at his rum and coke and then set it back down.

Glancing at the Chief waiting next to him, Devon smiled up from his gray v-neck shirt and black pants. "Would you prefer my seat?" he asked. "I'm not sure if you prefer sitting or standing so I figured I'd offer." He offered his hand for a shake, provided she was fine shaking hands. "I'm Devon."

Jack let her gaze linger on the bartender for a few measures too long, the beat of the music reverberating in her carapace before she turned her gaze to the dance-floor. The seven-foot behemoth wasn't one for parties (sober, anyways) despite (or perhaps because of) her line of work. But she did enjoy drinking the partying scene in. And Chrysalis, being so vocally pro-mutant, was sort of a "dreamland" for the prawn where people, you know, actually treated her like a person. Sometimes people even flirted with her (although their perception of her gender was frequently misconstrued and uncorrected).

>> "Would you prefer my seat? I'm not sure if you prefer sitting or standing so I figured I'd offer."

The prawn fixed her attention on the young man-- he was one of those "so pretty it's unfair" types. Laser-cut cheekbones and icicle eyes. Jack shifted her weight, shouldering a genial shrug. Who even is this guy?

"Kee' your seat," the prawn purred, "Sank you. I can stand alright."

She even included a thank you. How fortunate for him. The bartender returned with her drink, and Jack fished a loose ten from her pocket.

"Sanks Honey," Jack said with a nod. "Honey" was the barkeep's designation chosen by other Chrysalis employees, since the young woman often preferred sweeter scents to emulate, "Don' need duh change."

"Thanks Chief," Honey sang. There was something about working in a service position that gave you a deeper appreciation for other service workers. Besides which, bartenders gave you more attention if you tipped well enough.

>> "I'm Devon."

Jack peered longingly at the Old Fashioned. Most people would just sit and have their drinks, but Jack found slinking-off to eat or drink preferable. And she certainly did not favor removing her surgical mask in front of unfamiliar faces (or really, any patrons at Chrysalis). However, a certain degree of decorum made her compelled to make some small talk in her place of business, even when she was off-duty. She was recognizable enough that a churlish attitude would come back to bite her in the butt. In this way, Jack was being held hostage by social convention.

"Jack," she replied, nodding to the man, "'ut e'eryone calls nee Chief here."

The /f/ in "Chief" was achieved by exhaling sharply through pinched mandibles. It was a sound that Jack typically avoided due to the shear amount of effort it took to articulate it. but she took the time when introducing her, since literally all the regulars almost exclusively called her "Chief".

The prawn resumed watching Honey work, mesmerized by the flair with which she met orders. Jack could never fathom moving with such grace. Not when she was the seven-foot behemoth that she was. Honey was the epitome of femininity, whereas Jack was... well, Jack. And all that "Jack" implied. Cargo short and tank-top clad and with such an immense presence that she couldn't shy out of attention if she wanted to. How obnoxious.

"'een here 'e-sore?" Jack inquired, attempting polite conversation. Of course, she'd remember someone with cheekbones as sharp as his coming to her club, but it was one of few conversation-starters that Jack had in her repertoire.

Gosh it had been a long day indeed, and Linely was in need of a nice, peaceful drink. However, there was little time for that, and of all things, he had been assigned to watch a bar. A mutant friendly bar of all places, but apparently there was some wrongdoing going on in bars around the city, some scumbag of a guy spiking girl's drinks... they were waking with pounding headaches and no memory of what happened the night before. But they were always talking to the same, smooth-talking guy who had so kindly offered to watch their drink for them when they had to do something. Apparently for two of the woman, they didn't understand why they had trusted him. They just did. That was where the MRC came in.

He was going in plain clothes this time, Linely was not stupid enough to try and arouse suspicion if the guy actually turned up at this bar. In fairness to this particular nightclub, it hadn't been targeted by this guy yet. If he didn't , then it was just an excuse to have a drink and go home. If he did , then he could have a drink, arrest a scumbag, and then go home.

There was the bouncer, he managed to discreetly pass a note to the fellow, a cooperative man was "Roadie" who had helped deal with a few individuals who had one to many to drink and had got violent.

"Almost didn't recognise you without the uniform there Linely." Damn. If the spiker was around then that might have been his cover blown, still, "Roadie" hadn't said it too loudly, and at the moment the crowd of young women was surrounding the two of them, the closest being distinctly ...blue... literally.

"Well I thought I'd pay a visit, it's been a rough day" He passed a note to Roadie, with a bit of money surrounding it. Linely was on duty, and needed to get in, and he needed to make sure that Roadie knew that, just in case this turned into a chase. Still, it was more than likely that he would just be drinking, rather than actually catching someone. They had far better eyes watching the most often targeted bars.

Linely avoided the large crowd of dancers, instead heading to the "Library" area (he only knew about that from what some slurred-speech drunkard had said one night , that would likely be where any trouble was going to be. The music was too loud for his taste, but at least the bar seemed relatively quiet.

There were a few free seats, Linely noticed an objectively attractive looking man talking to what looked to be an anthropomorphic shrimp. Each to their own... Linely wasn't personally interested in that kind of stuff, while he found certain women aesthetically pleasing, he was in no position to get married yet. Still Linely resolved to take a seat next to this fellow, for all he knew it could be the man they were looking for.

He calmly walked up to the bar, confidently took a seat, and asked the graceful, rather good looking bartender for a drink. "A single-malt whiskey please". Perfect for what he needed, its smell would be on his breath, adding to the effect of his charade. Linely made sure his speech sounded slurred , but not overly so, enough to give a perception of slight intoxication, but not enough to make it seem like he'd had too much.

He turned to the young man who was deep in conversation with the Shrimp. "Hello there, what do you think of the club?" He spoke in the same slurred tone as before, before taking a slight sip of the whiskey. He loved acting drunk-really threw potential criminals off guard when the true nature of his position came to light.

>> "Kee' your seat," the prawn purred, "Sank you. I can stand alright."

"No problem. You're welcome," Devon added genially. He watched the bartender then and Jack's attention move quickly. Of course, he didn't know the woman's nickname was honey. She wandered off and Devon introduced himself.

While she didn't shake his hand, he wasn't going to push it so the appendage quickly moved back to his drink. Hers seem preoccupied with the beverage she'd been delivered anyway. She certainly was comfortable here; that was important if someone who stood out as much as she did felt comfortable. That spoke well for the club.

>>"Jack," she replied, nodding to the man, "'ut e'eryone calls nee Chief here."

"Chief," Devon nodded, raising his drink before sipping at it. Devon's eyes followed hers to Honey and he grinned, glancing back at Jack. The club was getting busier, louder. The girls next to him had drank enough; they left for the dance floor below. The energy was an enjoyable reminder of years past. Jack's chase across the bar was familiar too.

>>"'een here 'e-sore?"

"Nope, first time. I checked it out before I came," Devon said with a smile. "Wanted to find a chill place that was safe and mutant friendly," he nodded slowly. "That's important to me." He sipped again, savoring the taste of the rum and the play of the lime. Meanwhile he noted some twenty-something sit next to him. He looked a bit older. He ordered a whiskey.

"So far, I like what I see. Glad there's a place like this, and I'm hoping-" but he was cut off. Devon realized it wasn't on purpose. It was rather loud in there after all.

>>"Hello there, what do you think of the club?"

Devon, whose face was turned toward Jack, made an awkward grimace at hearing the slurred speech. Really? The guy was already that far in? Had he been drinking downstairs? Man, Devon could only assume what he was after and it was only one of two things if a guy was chatting up another guy at a club.

Devon put on a smile anyway and slowly turned on his chair. "Hello," he said coolly, though his eyes widened a bit. The guy was good looking: good build, good hair, nice eyes. "Yeah, we are," he added, looking back at Chief. "I was just saying how this is my first time here. I assume not yours or have you been here a while?" His smile melted into a smirk there towards the end.

While all sorts of individuals came into the bar-- mutants of different shapes and sizes, humans and human-passing individuals alike-- there were still certain individuals that Jack never expected, yet always seemed to see. Police officers. Sure, they came around when there was trouble, but she figured such a hectic line of work would steer policemen away from such lively hobbies as "going to the club". Thus, when someone she knew to be with law enforcement staggered to the bar, slurring about "what do you think of the club" or some such nonsense, Jack's guard raised. Her antennae lifted from their usually flat position, and her eyebrows twitched. Recognition.

Linley.

Some of the more cultured employees of Chrysalis added an "Officer" before his name, but Jack had an issue with "f's". To her, he was Linley. Frequently he was the officer that NYPD sent to collect drunkards and gangbangers alike, when things got too out-of-hand for the bouncers. But Jack-- well-- Jack didn't particularly care for policemen, X-gene or not.

The prawn said nothing. It wasn't her business. But something rose a little red flag at the back of her head. Her antennae settled, her eyes thinned minutely in scrutiny and unspoken intrigue. Perhaps Linley caught the stare, perhaps not.

>> "Hello."

And, like that, Devon shut Linley out. Jack quirked a smile as Devon turned back to her, casually unhooking her surgical mask and clenching it in her free hand. The other rose the dwarfed glass to her lips and took a sip of the mixed drink. Real smooth, just the way she liked it.

>> "Yeah, we are. I was just saying how this is my first time here. I assume not yours or have you been here a while?"

"Could say Chrysalis is ny hone," Jack replied, in response to Devon, "'een here long tine... see-yew years... Tonight's ny night oss doh." Suggesting that she worked there.

In response to Linley-- who, for the time being, Jack was treating like a common, inebriated club-goer, she said, "It's a good 'lace. Got duh kinda soul not a whole lot o' uzzer 'laces got. Like a san-ily al-nost."

Even if she stopped working there, Jack couldn't imagine ever leaving Chrysalis. Not voluntarily. Her gaze lingered on Linley for a moment, as if puzzling over him, before touching on Devon, and returning to her drink. She took another sip.

It was Chief! Sure you didn't get that many anthropomorphic shrimps around these parts, but in the light of the nightclub, it was difficult to tell exactly who it was until he was closer. She had spent some time helping with the drunkards one night. Linely could remember that one time where a stray bullet ricocheted off her body. If she was inclined towards that line of work-she'd make a damn fine MRC police officer. Linely of course, didn't know exactly what her situation was, but he would ask her at some point when he was finally off duty. Her antennae went up in recognition. Good. Then she wouldn't blow his cover. He caught her stare with as much seriousness as he could manage.

Somehow Linely doubted that the guy she was talking to was the scum he was after. Too unfocused, not trying to get Chief to drink (or leave her drink if she had one), didn't fit this guys MO whatsoever. Impolite too, merely saying "Hello" and then shutting him out entirely. Couldn't really blame the fellow though, considering the police officer was acting as if he was pretty wasted.

>> "Yeah we are. I was just saying how this is my first time here. I assume not yours or have you been here a while?"

Linely added to the charade "Been here a while? I've seen her looooads of thimes" He said it in a particularly annoying drunk-booming voice that he'd gotten so used to. He hoped Chief would play along, though he looked apologetically at her for divulging information. I need to do this he tried to convey to her through his eyes. He mouthed "big trouble" to her , behind the fellows back.

>> "It's a good 'lace. Got duh kinda soul not a whole lot o' uzzer 'laces got. Like a san-ily al-nost"

Quite. Most clubs were loud, sweaty and full of drunk people. Three things that Linely really hated. Clubbing was not his thing, going down the country pub (a famous British pastime) was another matter though. Still Chrysalis was different, very mutant friendly, and normally helpful to cops. He tried to keep an eye out for any smooth-talking guys who were trying it on...no such luck other than the fellow talking to Chief.

"Yeah, I lllove it here" Linely said, slurring his words even more, even though the Whiskey had basically no effect on him. Like he'd get drunk on one unit of good whiskey? Still, he hoped Chief would get the message. He tried mouthing "empath" to the mutant, hoping that she would get the hint about what this fellow potentially was.

Kaz stared at the empty bottles sitting atop the corner table and frowned. Two liters of some type of vodka, he knew not what type, he hadn't bothered or cared to pay attention, had not affected him at all. He had drained them as fast as he could and waited for a time to see if anything happened, and so far, it hadn't. He was forced to admit to himself that he was disappointed with that result.

Making a soft 'tsk' sound as he sucked in air through his teeth, Kaz stood and grabbed the empty bottles and headed towards the bar for more alcohol.

~~~~~~

A few weeks ago, while sitting in his brooding chair, something that had been tickling and scratching at his conscious mind for some time finally crystallized and came into focus. He had believed that he had mastered his body and was able to alter every aspect of it, with the exception of altering his organs, but what he realized is that he was wrong.

Each time he altered his size or the shape of his body, his organs changed, moved around within him, or did both. This meant that he was able to alter them, just not on a conscious level, not yet at least. But the last, and only, time he had tried to do it, he had nearly killed himself, and he was not eager to try that again.

For days he tried to figure out how and where to begin working to correct that lapse in ability. When he got a call, two days ago, from one of his investment consultants, who he had had looking into new businesses to either buy out or gain partial ownership of, it finally clicked. Among the options he was told about, one stood out to him, a nightclub called Chrysalis. The place itself wasn't what had interested him, not at that moment at least, but for whatever reason, after hearing about it, he knew what he would do to test himself.

Get drunk.

Well, he'd try at least.

It was something he had never been been able to do, he had never experienced any sort of intoxication. He knew his body was too good at processing a number of chemicals and poisons, and alcohol was included in that. As far as he could tell, he was completely immune to it. But if he could, somehow, figure out how to lower his ability to process alcohol, it would be the first step to gaining true mastery over himself.

~~~~~~

A little googling had given Kaz limited knowledge of how the body, a human body, dealt with alcohol; It can process 1.5 ounces of 80 proof liquor in one hour and half as much 160 proof liquor in the same time span, which is considered 'one drink'. He was sure that if he were a bit better at it he would have gotten more info, but he wasn't. He had started with small amounts and each set a drinks had gotten progressively bigger as he spent more time in the club. That lead up to the two 1 liter bottles, and now he was going to need something bigger, and probably stronger.

As he moved to speak to the woman behind the bar, Kaz's eyes were assaulted by a figure that looked nothing like anything he had seen before. The mutant had to be at least seven-six, if not eight feet tall, its shell looked tough, and its features seemed a bit alien and imposing. He liked it.

Kaz didn't mean to eavesdrop on the conversation the mutant was having with the two men near it, but with his proximity and hearing, he honestly couldn't help it. He didn't miss the slurred speech nor the other man's reply. It was clear he didn't care to deal with anyone sloshed.

Holding up a hand he got the bartender's attention and smiled as she came over.

“Did that work ya?” The lovely, floral scented woman said as he pointed at the empty bottles Kaz set on the counter.

”Unfortunately not. Think I'll need something bigger and stronger.” Kaz looked up behind the woman and pointed to a particular bottle sitting on a shelf. ”Think that one would do?” He asked while quirking a brow at her.

Turning to see what he pointed at, “Hmm..I don't think so..” She trailed off as her gaze roamed over their selection. “Ah, but this,” she said as she grabbed a half gallon of a dark liquor, “Give this a shot. If it doesn't do the trick, I'm sure you'll like the flavor.”

As he handed a couple large bills over to the woman, not expecting any change back, he smiled broadly at her. Kaz had waited for her the first time he ordered drinks, having been drawn by her scent. Once she had come over he had explained what he wanted to do, and she agreed to help him out. Each time he went to the bar, he took a good whiff and tried to figure out why she smelled so good, and what the scent was. So far he couldn't place it, not exactly, but it was definitely a floral scent, and although it was certainly strong and potent to his nose, it wasn't overpowering.

”I'm sure I will. Thanks hun.” Kaz winked at her and drew in a deep breath through his nose, wondering if she wore perfume or if it was natural. Intruding on the pleasing scent were two new, acrid and very familiar smells that nearly made him sneeze from surprise.

Gunpowder and gun oil.

Turning his head one way than the other, Kaz took a few quick sniffs to track down the direction of its origin. To his surprise it was coming from the 'drunk' who, Kaz realized quite quickly, wasn't drunk. Kaz didn't need google to know that anyone who had had enough alcohol to become drunk and slur their words, smelled like alcohol. It would be on their breath, but it also come off their body through their pores in a cloud around them. There was no such cloud around the man.

Taking his half gallon liquor bottle he moved as if to return to seat in the corner, but paused as he passed the man pretending to be drunk.

He leaned towards him and by his flaring nostrils, it was obvious what he was doing. ”A bit of advice for ya, if you're gonna pretend to be drunk,” He said in a soft tone the wouldn't carry further than their immediate area, ”You should try smelling like alcohol instead of guns. Gunpowder totally cuts down the young lady's charm.” He jerked his head a bit towards the female bartender he had been speaking to moments before.

Standing straight backed once more, Kaz took a sip from the bottle in his hand, a little smirk on his face. Turning to the other two he nodded and then addressed them all, ”I didn't mean to overhear ya, but I couldn't help it.” He shrugged a shoulder absently and took another sip. ”This is pretty good, nice burn too.” Kaz glanced back over towards Honey and nodded his thanks to her. To Chief he said, ”That girl really knows her stuff.”

Linely was continuing with the act, and certainly wasn't expecting some rather large somewhat elfin individual, scarred to appear behind him, sniff and then see through his act very quickly. If Mr Spiker had overheard that, Mr Spiker would certainly disappear. The soft tone of the man's voice made it clear that perhaps only Linely noticed...he hoped. Mutants with enhanced senses were annoying.

The man was looking amused now, self righteous. Linely felt it best that he knew what his business was in terms of acting drunk. "Hey you over there...I heard ya" He staggered up to the silver-haired mutant in a drunk fashion , carefully avoided touching the large fellow and flashed his badge in as subtle a way as he could towards the man. Enhanced senses? Well hopefully he would see it and no-one else would. Leaning in the typical "drunk with something to say but actually going to say nothing" way he spoke carefully to the muscular, elfin man.

"If you're going to call someone out for acting drunk I don't blame you, I'm on the track of a particularly bad man going after young women...I'd really appreciate it if you play along until I manage to catch this guy" Linely said this as seriously and softly as he could. "Now if you could please just pretend I said something drunk-funny that would be great." Hopefully he could get away with this, if the spiker was watching...it merely looked like a drunkard speaking to a man inappropriately.

Devon watched, oh how he did. He listened too. No one would ever call him a wallflower, but an active observer of life he was most certainly.

He would have noted to Chief he'd read something about her online but the guy beside him was busy mumbling on. Something about the loads he'd seen or something. Yeah, he'd bet. He was loud, continually slurring. While Chief spoke of soul this guy claimed an adoration for the place.

>> "Yeah, I lllove it here" Spasm said.

Ah yes, love. What the hell...

It was then Devon turned to address the rude, seemingly drunk's annoyances but instead he found himself stunned. It wasn't often something truly caught his attention beyond friendly banter, let alone a professional interaction. Humans, while he was happy to work and help them, were still not that impactful upon his interests.

This was something else. No, it wasn't one of the damned Middle Earth elves escaped from who knows what. He wasn't a dungeons and dragons racial stereotype, some toying abstract to play at. Tempest saw the approaching man and thought immediately of the fae. His tales, while he'd read the Lord of the Rings, were those of Shakespeare. Oberon, Titania, the Wyrd Sisters, and Puck were the spirits of elfin nature that most often came to mind. Whoever this was had silver hair out at different points, paler skin, burgundy eyes, and of course the ears. The body was-

>>”I didn't mean to overhear ya, but I couldn't help it.” ... ”That girl really knows her stuff.”

Devon smiled, nodding quickly while blinking. That let the rest of the room come back into focus as he found his rummed coke and eagerly took another sip.

And of course, the drunk went right for him. Desperate or ridiculous Devon wasn't sure. A dark brow narrowed over Devon's eyes as he watched the drunk lean into the elf and whisper. I guess when you wanted to chat someone up you didn't wait. It probably wasn't often a mutant like that came in. No, Devon was sure. It was ridiculously desperate.

Not taking his attention completely away from that odd couple, Devon glanced back to Chief. Wow those were mandibles weren't they? "I'm sorry. I was going to tell that guy to maybe find someone else to bother but it looks like he did," the young man chuckled. "I was also going to say before he started slurring over my shoulder that I thought I'd read of a Chief working here. That's great. I was actually hoping to talk to someone with the staff if you have a moment now or later. I'd certainly cover the old fashioneds while we talked."

Devon actually felt himself in conflict. A part of him wanted to watch (and hoped) the elf would push off the drunk. There was something captivating there; Devon couldn't deny that. But he'd come here for social activity second and for Sanctuary first. He couldn't miss an opportunity to talk with a staff member.

Gesturing toward the stairs, Devon's smile blossomed anew as he rolled his shoulders back. "Care to head out onto the patio?" he asked the tall insectoid mutant, "Probably easier to talk up out there."

>> "Been here a while? I've seen her looooads of thimes"

He mouthed something to her, but in the low lights, Jack couldn't make out Linley's unvoiced words. His eyes were serious, though.

"Nister Lundgren's a regular," Jack said tiredly, taking another sip of Old Fashioned as she nodded towards Linley. The word "regular" rolled off her tongue drolly, suggesting that Linley's character was a terrible drunkard.

>> "Yeah, I lllove it here"

Again he was mouthing words to her, and Jack shook her head. Her exasperation was genuine, but overstated. She didn't understand what he was trying to say. Even with night-vision. For all she knew, Linley was mimicking a fish. But she'd act like he was someone else, regardless.

"Could likely singlehandedly su'ort us, 'ey Lundgren?" Jack agreed teashing, "No trou'le tonight, okay? I'n oss duty."

A silver-haired, J-Pop Legolas-looking gentleman drew Linley's attention, so Jack returned her attention to Devon. Her lavender eyes slid speculatively over his sharp featres, and she took another sip of her drink.

>> "I'm sorry. I was going to tell that guy to maybe find someone else to bother but it looks like he did. I was also going to say before he started slurring over my shoulder that I thought I'd read of a Chief working here. That's great. I was actually hoping to talk to someone with the staff if you have a moment now or later. I'd certainly cover the old fashioneds while we talked."

"Don't has any sorta sway here," Jack said flatly. The name was misleading, at times. People thought that "Chief" meant she was the boss. Her only authority was that she was the muscle that escorted drunkards out. Something about being picked-up like a wayward kitten by the scruff of your collar was sobering.

She didn't hold any actual, managerial sway though.

>> "Care to head out onto the patio? Probably easier to talk up out there."

He was a stubborn one, Jack gave him that.

"Lenne sin-ish dis one," Jack answered, "Den we can talk o'er dere, in the corner."

There was a large leather booth in front of a wall of books, which deadened the sound just enough for some conversation. She leaned closer to Devon and admonished, "I wanna kee' an eye on Lundgren. 'e's trou'le sun-tines."

And, like that, Linley and the silver-haired Legolas joined. Who the f--- was this guy? Another cop?


>> ”I didn't mean to overhear ya, but I couldn't help it. This is pretty good, nice burn too. That girl really knows her stuff."

"Dat's why she tends duh dar," Jack confirmed, "Knows her stu-ss. 'rolly knows it 'etter dan anyone here."

The prawn took another sip. The Old fashioned was reaching critical levels. She'd probably get another swig out of the glass before requesting a refill.

Kaz was not surprised when the man he had spoken to had called out to him, so he watched, with a smirk plastered on his face, Mr. Drunk 'stumble' towards him. He was expecting one of three responses from the man: Outright denial and being berated because of his accusation; Getting questioned on how he knew he wasn't drunk; And last, but not unwelcome, being assaulted.

When none of those happened Kaz stared at Mr. Drunk with a bit of surprise. That surprise didn't have a chance to go away when the man put a hand into his coat and pulled out a badge. A goddam badge. An annoying, intruding, good-for-nothing cop. He had all the luck. Kaz did not have a very good opinion about them in general.

But...

'...was that...'

He thought he caught a glimpse of something interesting on the badge, but the 'cop', if he really was a cop, had put it away too quickly for him to get a really good look. When the man leaned towards Kaz, he saw his moment. A nearly instantaneous movement so smooth it didn't disturb the man's coat or shirt even the slightest, had the cop's badge in Kaz's hand.

Pretending to check the distance between himself and the 'drunk' with his eyes, Kaz took a look at the badge and the number on it. 'MRC huh.' Mentally huffing, Kaz sent an order along Legion's line to check the badge number to let him know if it was legit or not. What he got in response was an affirmative and the feeling of compliance.

If the 'drunk' wasn't actually a cop, and he became irritating, he wouldn't need to restrain himself. But, if he was legit and he became irritating....

When Mr. Drunk began speaking Kaz blinked at him, slowly, as if the man were an idiot. Kaz took another sniff of the man just be sure he wasn't drunk. Intoxication was the only reason Kaz could think of for an officer to give away what he was up to, so freely and openly, with a complete stranger. If he wanted to, he could expose this moron right then and there! Kaz wanted to put his fist in the man's face on general principle.

As that reasoning slipped into his head, something else followed close on its heels.

A predatory, vulpine grin grew across his face, his enlarged canines prominent in his decidedly wickedly sharp, made to rend flesh from bone teeth. A low rumble sounded from Kaz that was too menacing to be a purr and too feral to be a growl. With the narrowing of his eyes, Kaz's posture and expression looked about as friendly and inviting as a Great White barring down on a seal.

Keeping his voice low, but not trying to keep it just between the two of them. ”Are you a fool or just incompetent?!” Scorn dripped from his lips as he spoke. ”You go up to the man who already marked you, saw through your ruse, tell him what you're up to, and then proceed to ask for his assistance? Please don't tell me you're counting on some ridiculous idea that people are inherently good and want to cooperate out of the kindness of their hearts.”

The smile that had been on Kaz's face became a snarling sneer, ”Pathetic.”

Kaz wanted to spit in the man's face, but he restrained himself. ”What would you have done, or do, if I was the one you were looking for hmm? You would have just given yourself away and let me know someone was onto me and knew what I was planning on doing. Hells bells man, you all but told me you are alone in this, and that makes you a nice target of...”

Kaz paused before he finished his sentence as a bit of information came his way. Legion had relayed his request and the Sentinels had gotten ahold of MRC to confirm if the badge number was legit and get the name of the officer attached to it. Now Kaz's voice almost turned into a purr, ”a target of opportunity..Detective Joseph Linely.”

Leaning back Kaz looked down at the man, even though they were of a similar height, and shrugged his shoulder. That motion made him remember he still had the man's badge in his hand. Turning his hand over, Kaz glanced at the badge and noticed that he had, at some point, accidentally begin to crush it. ”Oh...right.” Lifting his hand, palm down to hide the badge, ”This is yours. I do apologize for the condition, you can bill me for it if you'd like.”

He moved to take a sip of his liquor and paused, the bottle halfway to his lips. Kaz lowered the drink a moment later, and with a heavy sigh nearly all traces of aggression he had shown up until then disappeared. The only bit remaining was the steel in his eyes and mild contempt on his face. ”All of..that...aside, I see no reason why I should care about some humans being taken advantage of. But don't worry,” Kaz gave the man what could charitably be called a 'friendly smile' and even a light chuckle. ”I won't air your dirty laundry for everyone to see.”

Man this guy was an ass, going on about how people weren't inherently good and that he didn't care about his fellow human beings. "For all your elfin looks, and probably powerful mutations sir, you are still human , whether you like that or not." He probably embraced that as well, he was dealing with your classic rational self-interest maniac. But what he said next surprised Linely.

>> "A target of opportunity, Detective Joseph Linely".

..He had taken his badge! That was a n offense, but this man was clearly too brave or to arrogant to care. He must be in communication with people , Linely thought. Only way he could have possibly had the serial number on the badge processed. He'd met these types of mutants before, and their self-importance and expectation that he might be intimidated by their connections or powers was mostly amusing to Linely.

>> "You can bill me for it if you'd like"
He took the badge back confidently. Damn he was clumsy ...the badge was near crushed? "If you think that I'm supposed to be impressed by your ability to communicate with others then you are very wrong sir, and I shall be billing you for the badge. " There wasn't an inch of fear in his voice, this kind of mutant were all the same. Linely had faced down individuals that could turn themselves into things much bigger, and much badder than this sorry excuse for a LOTR cosplay.

"Oh and I figured you weren't the guy I was looking for the moment that you walked in. I'm guessing the victims would have noticed the scars on your face. Must have been quite painful eh?" Linely kept his voice low, careful, completely neutral. Linely knew exactly how painful that injury had been, he could sense the pain from his face, had been a while back...now his nerves were more attuned to the elfin man, he could sense the fellow had been through a lot, various pains flared from all over the man's body. He had no reason to pull these pains to the surface, why turn a situation violent for no good reason?

"If you know my name though, I would like to have the pleasure of knowing yours?" He stared into the man's eyes, letting him know he wasn't even moderately afraid. Linely allowed him to answer. "Now, I have a job to do, thank you sir for your cooperation...so much as it was." He ended the conversation there , and gradually staggered towards where Chief had got to...he couldn't let Chief be taken in by some scummy empath.

It was a rather nice leather booth, and Linely made sure to sit down opposite Chief, that way the man couldn't look directly into her eyes (not that it would be easy to do that anyway). Hopefully he could clarify what was going on to her, that way she would be on watch.

Lundgren was a regular, and apparently that was the drunk guy. It sounded like he could cause trouble here and there; Devon wasn't surprised to hear that based on what he was seeing. Luckily, Chief was more interested in what Devon had to say.

He knew she didn't have any particular sway with management but the doorman and the bouncer were sure two good feet in the door. Maybe the bar tender would want to help too? That of course would be up to her. But he nodded to Chief as she wanted to finish her drink before taking a seat.

"Can I get another for her and another rum and coke for me?" Devon asked as the bar tender, sweet smelling thing that she was, drifted by.

"'course, anything for Chief," she winked at the tall bug woman mischievously.

Meanwhile, Devon had a blue eye on Puck and the Drunk. There was some distance and a lot of music between the bar and the couple, but it certainly didn't look like things were going in the drunk's favor. There was close talking, some sneering, and some really unfriendly body language. Then he gave the drunk something and padded him off with a friendly smile.

By then Chief was shifting to the leather booth. Devon would have sat opposite Chief like anyone having a conversation with one other person would. But who of course had to join them? The drunk. Devon stood up from his bar stool, waiting for the drinks.

Had the elfin man given the Drunk drugs or something? Maybe it was some money to send him off though that seemed unlikely. Either way, Devon was for no good reason happy to see the Drunk shrugged off by the elf. The real problem now was when he finally got the drinks, he'd have to join the Drunk who was settling in with Chief at the booth.

Honey was busily at work as Devon leaned forward, "Do you know that guy talking to Chief?"

She glanced that ways and shrugged a shoulder, "I think so." She was playing it close to the chest, a bit coy. "Lot of people come in here. A lot of not people come in here." She chuckled.

"Huh," Devon muttered, scanning the assemblage here in the library. Chrysalis was getting busy. He didn't see James yet but he wasn't sure if he'd show up.

"Here you go, on the tab?" Honey pushed the drinks toward Devon.

"Please," Devon smiled, scooped up the two drinks and started over for the booth. He glanced the elf's way and then back to the Drunk. The question was how to manage this guy... And who was the elf, but yeah, he'd get to that later. Business first right?

Jack finished the Old Fashioned at her own pace, enjoying the whiskey drink deeply, before setting the emptied glass down on its coaster. Given her size, one drink wouldn't do it for her, but it was still well-mixed. As if anything less could be expected of Honey.

>>"Can I get another for her and another rum and coke for me?"

>> "'course, anything for Chief."

Jack tilted a timid smile at Honey, rolling her eyes. Sometimes, the bartenders would flirt with certain patrons if they thought it would curry them any favor (or higher tips). Jack wasn't susceptible to such tactics, but intead the bartenders made it into a game of, "Let's toy with Chief's delicate sensibilities."

Because, despite her gruff exterior, it was a well-known fact that Jack was timid when it came to romantic advances, among the staff. And the prawn did nothing to discourage the teasing. She didn't need to prove anything to them. What she and Zinnia shared was between her and Zinnia, and would only be publicized at work if it arose in conversation.

Jack nodded to Devon, and ceased leaning on the counter. She found a spot in the large square of leather seats, a corner area by the wall, where it would be somewhat easier to hear Devon speak. Jack took her seat, back to the wall and attention facing outwardly, as she waited for Devon to rejoin her. After a quiet conversation with Legolas, Linley staggered over and plopped himself down. Jack's gaze cut towards Devon, who still stood over by the bar, and then back towards the officer. She leaned-in close, murmuring in his ear.

"Said your nay-n's Nister Lundgren," she rumbled to him, "And dat you're a raging drunk who oss-ten gets into trou'le here, so I'n kee'ing an eye on you." She sounded all to pleased about the second bit, the smirk in her tone distinct. It was okay to mess with the cops, as long as it wasn't counterproductive to their goals.

Regardless of Linley's answer, when Jack saw Devon's approach, she rose her voice a credible degree and said, "I ain't gonn' drag yo sriend out just 'cause he ga'e you a weird look. No sights tonight, re-nen-der? I'n oss duty."