2019.11.28: First Appearance
| 2019.11.28: First Appearance | |
|---|---|
| Krystal makes her first public appearance, staying low key and out of the way. At least she's trying to return to society. | |
| IC Date | November 28, 2019 |
| IC Time | Night |
| Players | Krystal, Dawson, Verlaine, Trent Bellamy |
| Location | Styx and Stones |
Styx and Stones - Pool Hall
Once upon a time, this would be the last place you would see her, but in the years gone by Krystal's life has changed dramatically. But you can't escape your past, especially with such a recognisable face, but you can at least hope to escape the steady flow of autograph hunters and selfie seekers.
Still, best to go undercover. Over her current clothing, she's wearing a thick dark-blue hoodie, soft and warm, the hood pulled up to throw her features into shadow, though the length of her red hair escapes and tumbles down the front of her chest.
Keeping her head lowered, she only angles her eyes upwards so she can see where she's going, which seems to be a quiet area at one end of the bar, away from people. Her right arm reaches across her chest as she walks, hand resting close to her left shoulder.
Verlaine enters the bar dressed rather casually, jeans and a t-shirt with a black leather jacket over it to help ward away the cold. She steps in and brushes her hair out of her face for a moment before she takes a few steps further into the bar, her eyes drifting towards the bar.
A white-haired man seated behind the bar eventually stands from his seat and wanders around to fetch himself a refill on his coffee. Drinking beer while trying to keep an eye on the bikers is not really a great idea as the night evolves so he's sticking to caffiene-heavy drinks. With his back to the room for a few moments, he doesn't pick up on the recent arrivals but Danny, a Latino man acting as the bartender tonight, slides up to ask what the hoodie-wearing figure would want.
The hand resting near Krystal's shoulder starts nervously tapping, fingers seemingly moving at random; it's loud in here, lots of people, dangerous looking people, maybe she.. her thoughts are broken by the appearance of Danny. Her head lowers even further, a slight lean to let her long red hair try and conceal a little more of her features. "I'd like something. A drink of.. um..", it's as if she hasn't talked to anyone in years and is rusty at it, the woman sitting up slightly to see what might be on offer, "Is that whiskey? Whiskey. With coke? Do you have coke?"
Her hand taps even faster, her nerves getting the better of her, she might even be sweating judging by the slight beads on her brow.
It's not difficult for Verlaine's eyes to wander over to the other redhead in the bar, the one sitting and acting a bit nervous. The woman smiles softly and paces over towards her, reaching out to lightly rest a hand on Krystal's shoulder as she leans in to speak softly to her. "Hey. If you act nervous it's only going to encourage them." Verlaine doesn't recognise her at first, she's still only getting the profile view obscured by hair.
Danny quotes a quick price for the woman's whiskey and coke and starts to slap her order together once she gives him the money. At first he's more focused upon filling the order rather than much else. However, after a moment he gives the woman a curiously long look as though trying to place her face.
Dawson, the white-haired man fetching some coffee, turns once his mug is filled and gives the floor a quick sweep to check for any...problems. He seems to spot someone through the crowd and tilts his head as though he were thinking to himself, 'Really?' as he lays eyes on Verlaine. Neither of the figures have been spotted by the bikers as they're more entertained taunting and torturing one of the young servers; a young girl wearing a 'Fresh Meat' t-shirt.
There's a moment once the whiskey and coke is placed nearby, a hint of confusion, then Krystal realises that she does actually have to pay for things now. Awkwardly she looks into the pocket of her hoodie, trying to hide what she's doing, before finally pulling out a note that she slides across to Danny. "Thanks. Keep the change.". Out of a twenty, that's a fair bit of change.
And then there's someone speaking to her, a hand on her shoulder, Krystal tensing slightly but urging herself to relax. It could be nothing. "I'll be fine.", she replies, even forcing herself to lower her hand from her shoulder, trapping it between her knees in a vice like grip so it can't escape. Her other hand picks up the whiskey glass. "Thanks though.", she says without looking up, trying to keep her appearance hidden still. How long can she do it for?
Verlaine's eyes drift to Dawson briefly. Yeah, she sees him. She's not dressed seductively or in a risque manner, which really isn't a surprise. Verlaine almost always dresses for modesty as her first priority. She stares at the man for a moment before giving him a nod of her head and then looking back to Krystal. Foolish or not, Verlaine doesn't lack for confidence. However she also doesn't pry into Krystal's business, she just lightly squeezes the girl's shoulder and then sits as she looks to the bartender. "Whiskey." She stares, perhaps curious if she'll be served.
Danny has no problem serving Verlaine, taking her money and sliding the shot of whiskey over to her with a friendly, if somewhat nervous, smile on his face. "Hey," he offers and slides a glance over to Dawson to see how his boss is going to react. But when he looks back to the hooded figure once more he gets an even better look and his eyes bloom with surprise. Ever the professional, he's not about to blow the woman's cover but he just starts smiling for some reason.
The white-haired coffee drinker, however, hasn't even glanced towards the hooded woman - nope. He's more focused on someone else right now. "Ya just couldn't let it go...could ya?" he asks with a sarcastic almost accusatory tone to his voice. Judging from the get-go, the size of chip resting on his shoulder would have squashed most mortal men. For now, though, possibly as a favor to his bartending friend, he's willing to hold his tongue - somewhat.
Having been keeping a careful eye on Danny, Krystal's shoulders un-tense when she sees him smile and keep quiet, offering him a little smile of appreciation in return. Lifting the glass of whiskey and coke, she has a small drink and keeps a hold of it, resting the glass on her leg while she studies the area around her.
With Verlaine sitting next to her, it sounds like Dawson is talking to her when he speaks, Krystal paling slightly at the accusatory tone. "I didn't know it would happen!", she replies, "It was an accident, I'll fix it, I'll get someone to fix it.". What the hell she's talking about is anyones guess, her pale blue eyes look a little wild too.
Verlaine looks over to Krystal and shakes her head, speaking to her softly. "It's not you. You're fine." Her gaze then drifts back to Dawson. "These are my people Dawson. Gang members, homeless, unemployed, down on their luck or making their own luck." She smiles to Danny as the glass slides over to her, offering a brief "Hey" back to him. She picks up the glass and brings it to her lips for a quick sip before she turns more towards the white-haired man. "You don't like my faith. That's fine, you don't have to. I'm not here to preach. I want a drink and to spend some time in the community. That's all."
Krystal's sudden outburst momentarily distracts Dawson from his brooding broodness with Verlaine but he just shakes it off and chalks it up to just another night at the Styx and leans back against the rear shelf behind the bar. "You're in luck," he cautions, "The vikings are out hunting tonight. But I wouldn't push the Tigers too far. Red hair is big for them." He takes a sip of his coffee and pulls a cellphone from his back pocket to check on an incoming message - breaking his gaze with the woman.
The Tigers, however, have all but chased the fresh meat back into the kitchen followed by cheers, howls and demands for more beer. A more senior waitress comes out with a tray and starts passing out open bottles with the occasionally playful smack on the ass as she walks through the tables.
It's not her. That's good news, Krystal quietens down again and covers her weirdness with another mouthful of whiskey, taking a moment to purse her lips and blow out a breath as it burns its way down to her tummy. "Are you religious?" she asks of Verlaine, though still isn't looking that way.
Instead, something seems to have caught her eye, off to her other side where there's nothing but a small gap and a wall, but she keeps glancing at it, whatever it is. She's trying not to, at least.
Verlaine nods her head at Dawson's comment, a bit of a smirk coming to her lips. "Lucky me. I won't be starting any trouble, you should know that." Another sip of her whiskey and then her eyes drift back to Krystal when she hears that question, a warm smile coming to her lips. "Yes, I am. I'm a minister at a church downtown. I'm Reverend Mercier, or just Verlaine if you prefer. What's your name?" Verlaine's voice is gentle, not trying to drive the nervous woman's tension any higher.
Trent's fortunately not a red head! Just another guest, probably, one who makes his way toward the bar, probably for a drink. His hair is a little out of place, no pomade today, and he's wearing a black security uniform, instead of his street clothes, overcoat around his large frame.
After he checked his phone, Dawson slides it back into his pocket and glances between Verlaine and Krystal as they seem to be chatting it up. A faint, if very thin-lipped smile, appears on his face as he seems somewhat pleased that the two women can, at least, look out for each other now. He sighs, takes a sip of his coffee and slides down the wall a bit so that he's well-positioned to watch the people at the bar as well as the bikers in the back just in case things decide to get interesting.
And his phone beeps again - or vibrates his butt enough that he knows to answer the incoming message - so he checks it and his attention drops from the room for a few moments.
Without even thinking about it, Krystal bats away something to her side, that annoying thing she keeps seeing. Unfortunately, she forgets her glass is still in hand so half her whiskey ends up splashing across the wall. "Oh! Um..", a look at the liquid trickling down, then a look at Dawson, back, fore, he's on his phone, she might have got away with it. The glass returns to resting on her leg, it's emptier now, but it's fine. It's all fine. Nothing to see here.
"Reverend. That sounds very important.", Krystal's attention shifting back to the lady beside her. "I'm.. Kris. Yeah. Kris.", a raise of her half empty glass in greeting. "Kris. I'm not religious. God hates me."
Trent sinks himself down onto one of the bar stools, telling the barman, "Something strong." His voice is pleasant, controlled, and when he reaches for some money, it's with a hand missing its ring finger. Kris' words get a glance.
Verlaine blinks a bit at Kris's statement about God, shaking her head. "No.. no no no." There's a gentle sigh as she brushes a bit of hair out of her own face again. "Kris.. God doesn't hate anyone. God is love, God loves you more than you could know." Oops, she told Dawson she wasn't going to preach but she couldn't just let that one slide. "It's nice to meet you Kris." She does stare rather curiously at the flinching and the whiskey being spilled, but Verlaine deals with unfortunates all the time and they often have mental problems. She lets it go. A brief glance is given to Trent and Fiona, a smile on her lips for them as she offers a smile to anyone who looks her way.
Danny, the latino bartender, fills Trent's order with his usual skill and slides a shot of 'something' over to the guy and gathers a few empties from around the bar. He will eventually find his way to call over to the newest redhead to walk in and ask what she wants. And, just she's finally tended to, one of the Bronze Tigers in the back turns from the small show they're watching of one of the waitresses giving a guy an amateur lap dance and they spot...the trio at the bar. He slaps the shoulder of a guy next to him, who slaps pokes the guy next to him and now there's a small group of tigers watching the redheads at the bar with a new found interest.
"Watch it..." Dawson cautions with a flash of his eyes.
Someone must have opened the back door to the bar or something because -just- as he tossed out his cautionary warning, a brief but chilly gust of wind blows in to the bar. The small woosh of air is no blizzard but it's enough to swish hair and raise goose flesh upon bare skin. Odd that it's so curiously timed - aint it?
The wind makes Trent shiver, maybe subconsciously pull that overcoat of his a little closer. Then he plucks up the shot between forefinger and thumb, downs it without a toast. "If you're a Reverend," he remarks, "I'm a choir boy."
A shake of her head, Krystal doesn't look over to the woman beside her, just disagrees. "He's done very bad things.". The whiskey glass is raised and the contents drained, empty slipped onto the bar, then she's following Dawson's caution out to the gathered bikers.
Her head remains low, trying not to give away her features. Her gaze passes over the rest of the hall, looking for others besides the Tigers.
Verlaine pulls her coat tighter around herself when she feels that breeze roll through, her gaze briefly snapping to Dawson before she looks to Trent with a wry smile. "You must have a beautiful voice then sir." Verlaine stares for a moment, looking slightly amused before Krystal's attention snaps her attention back to the woman beside her. "I.. If you'd like to talk about this sometime come to St. Joseph's, hmm? I promise you, God does not hate you Kris." But she leaves it at that, she's not going to work through whatever deep seated issue is going on there at a bar. For the moment she's distracted enough not to notice the Tigers.
"I like to think it's at least pleasant," Trent says, putting more money on the counter, and getting another shot. "I'm told I've been training /Bel Canto/ since I was a child." He's big enough that he -probably- doesn't get fucked with for admitting he's an opera singer in such a place, but who knows? The knuckles of the hand with all of its fingers curl.
"I might do that. You should stop wasting time on him.", Krystal tells Verlaine. Not liking the rising bikers, she slips from the stool, pulls her hood up a little tighter and more firmly. "Time to go.".
And with that, she's off, heading for the door with her head down, eyes angled so she can see where she's going. If anyone is paying attention, they might hear her muttering to herself, ".. shush.. not going to, no.. can't.. leave me alone..". Weird woman.
Verlaine's attention remains on Kris as she rises from the bar and starts to leave, a worried look on Verlaine's face. Her own eyes drift to the Tigers now and she sighs, leaving is probably a good idea for Kris. Probably for herself too. "See you around Kris. Be careful." She waves to the woman before turning her attention back over to Trent. "Oh? I'd love to hear that sometime." Her interest seems genuine rather than feigned. She takes another sip of her whiskey, eying Trent's uniform. "What's your name?"
