Odds and Ends

Bloody Mary's Bar

Given to irony, Bloody Mary's Bar is decorated primarily in black and varying shades of red. From the black bench seats and chairs, black tables, black walls with chilling red blood flowing down them in a continuous manner, it's quite obvious why this bar has the name it does. Deep red mahogany makes up the floor and bar. Dangling red star lights illuminate the bar, lending to it's somewhat creepy look.

It's a good night to be Mischa Alexandrov, despite the crappy snow and the fact that he had to take a bus to get here. The man enters Bloody Mary's in quite a jovial mood. He makes his way over towards to the bar and takes a seat, scanning his surroundings for familiar faces — especially one behind the bar. When he doesn't find her, he merely shrugs and waits for his order to be taken. In the mean time, he takes his cell phone out of his pocket and begins to set an alarm on it. 'Wednesday, SUMMER' it says. He grins as he types it into his phone. A bartender makes her way over towards him and he clears his throat, speaking up. "I'll take…ah…" Crap, what's a manly drink? Pause. "Give me a Jaegerbomb!" It's a choice he's going to sorely regret later. Or perhaps sooner than later. Whatever the case may be, Mischa sits back and waits for his drink to be delivered as he pockets his cell phone once more.

Vampires are creatures of the night. Regal, powerful, intimidating. They stride through snow as if it were nothing, lurking in the shadows and smiling with the knowledge of centuries… That's the basic idea, anyway. Maybe it's part of Theodore's, uh, clever disguise that he completely fails to live up to the stories. The youth all but falls into the door from the cold outside, stumbling a few steps only to hold his hands out for balance. He can be graceful, when he wants to be, but he makes no great effort to be so. Snow clings to his already pale hair, clumping and wetting it, though it melts slower for his lower body temperature. He's either fed recently or the cold effects his skin enough to cause visible reactions, for his cheeks are pale and his mouth is dark, his violet eyes flitting through the bar rapidly with the sense of an avian curiosity. He's wearing an oversized, rather fluffy white sweater complete with hood and little pompoms on the strings that attach to the hood, something that may or may not be girl's clothing. Other than that, he's wearing a simple pair of black (snow-caked) jeans and some thigh-length boots to keep out the weather. He brushes snow from his hair and watches it flurry to the ground, then makes his way off towards the bar, smiling brightly at the bartender, cheerful as can be, "Hello! Ah… can I have an A- bottle of Trublood, please? Thank you." He slips up onto the barstool, his feet just barely touching the ground - intimidating heights my right foot - and smooths back his damp hair while giving the bar another curious look.

James Thomas Young, a fairly standard name for a fairly standard police officer, the man busying himself outside of Bloody Mary's with a cigarette perched betwixt his lips and in the process of lighting. He's standing just beyond his car, its keys still held aloft within his fingertips even as he pockets the silvery lighter and takes a look about. There's nothing. At least, there's nothing of interest yet. In the stray light, the man checks the time and then pockets the keys as well before he's moving to enter the bar. The cigarette's privately pinched off with him rubbing his fingertips together from the sudden burn. That's how he looks when he enters the bar. A jacket, jeans, boots, and an expression somewhere between having a chip in need of brushing off on his shoulder and bemusement; someone might have pissed in his coffee this morning, too. With so much red around him though, and the reputation around him, he eases off and relaxes, stepping for the bar and sinking onto a stool. Ordering? He waits for his turn to come up. Right now, Young holds his gaze aloft to those around him.

And a few minutes after the arrival of the police officer, so too, the lawyer enters Bloody Mary's. All business, both in the tilt of her chin, and the arch of her back as she catches sight of the bar and begins to make her way there, tactfully avoiding anyone who might be in her way, and in her dress, looking for all the world as if she were just on her way to court. A fashionable briefcase hangs from her left shoulder, and while she glances here and there, taking in the sights, none of them seem really worth giving pause for. Well, perhaps one, at the bar, but it's a brief thing, before she steps up, signalling to one of the wait staff.

Suddenly, there's an influx of people. Normally Mischa would be horribly uncomfortable, even almost panic attack-like. Tonight he's cool as a cucumber. For the most part. It doesn't stop him from looking momentarily flummoxed when there are suddenly people where there weren't before; chiefly to the left and right of him. When he spots Theo, he does a double take before considering his options. A) He can say hello. B) He can pretend that his last drunken binge never happened. Or C) He can run for the door right now. Unfortunately his Jaegerbomb shows up right as he seriously considers plan C. "Well, bottoms up!" The librarian says as he finishes the drink off in one fell swoop. After that, he returns to looking around the bar. Mignonette takes precedence over Young, at first. Mischa gives them both a nod in the end before he turns back to the bar and clears his throat, pondering what to order next. "Better just give me a beer. Whatever's on tap and isn't as likely to make me vomit with the combination of Jaeger than the rest of them." The bartender just laughs at him in a decidedly mocking tone.

Everyone here is SO friendly. Teddy looks to his right, then to his left, then back to his right and springs a bright, warm smile on Young like a trap door full of sunshine (moonshine?), "Hi, I'm Teddy!" Fearful vampire, chapter one. He receives his bottle of blood just after this, though, with a small sound of gratitude and pleasure, taking the time to pay for it ala a wad of wrinkled bills he digs out of his hip pocket, nearly upending off his barstool. Managing to once again maintain some sort of dignity, at least so far as not winding up on the floor, the blonde youth ruffles his hair off his forehead and lifts the bottle to take a nice, long drink. Ah. Does the body good~

Looks like another is making there way into the bar, for a Monday night the place looks to be somewhat busy. Abbey glances around slightly, her pale gaze drifting here and then while a faint hum escapes her. She half ponders leaving, well there is that nice biker bar near where she works after all. Though she did manage to make one of the regulars there mad the other night. With a slight shake of her head she moves onwards past the door, heading further inside and towards the bar. Her clothing is a black t-shirt, with black leather pants and boots to finish it off. Even with a cool breeze outside she doesn't have a jacket with her. A free space is found at the bar and she leans against the edge waiting her turn to order a drink.

Young forgoes getting a drink just yet, in spite of being at the bar. How silly. There's a few nods given here though, like towards Mischa, and there, to some random bloke, but in general he has yet to bring himself out of his mind's reverie; up until noting familiar scents. Rather than truly react to them, he merely lifts his head and glances over his shoulder towards the arrival of Mignonette. She's a friend he would love to kill, but she's a friend above all else - that he would love to kill. Killing aside, the off-duty and amiable cop inclines his attention towards Theo, for the blood-drinker is talking to him. "Nice to meet you," at least he's polite, if not a touch aloof, "James — Young." That brief pause in his name is Young looking up and over, distracted by familiar smells and faces.

Mignonette manages to make it to the bar unscathed, mostly because the expression on her face is distinctly unfriendly to all comers. But once she's at her destination, slotting herself in, standing, rather than sitting, a few stops down from young, and the bartender is on his way over, her expression shifts to something close to more personable. As in her voice, warm and slightly husky, with her Cajun lilt, "Yes, I'm looking for Beatrix. If she's here, I wouldn't mind a word, if you could pass it along." Once the request is delivered, she shifts her attention, returning the nods of greeting to each that sent her one, but making no other attempt at conversation.

Despite the fact that people of Mischa's kind are supposed to be hot blooded, he has a sweater on. The red sweater helps him blend in unremarkably with the decor of the bar for the most part — that, and he's no longer wearing his glasses, AND he has a nice bit of scruff developing on his chin. He looks like a real guy and not an uptight librarian. The latter of the two looks usually gets him the most stares. Mischa reaches into the pocket of his black slacks and takes out his wallet, putting down a twenty dollar bill to pay for the Jaegerbomb and the beer that's just arrived. He nods amiably towards Young before watching Theodore's interaction with the other man, amused by the white-haired vampire who had helped him out in previous weeks. His eyes scan past Young towards Mignonette very briefly. When he sees Abbey pull up to the bar relatively close to him, he gives a smile in recognition. "I remember you. You were there with that woman who had the allergy to 'dogs'."

Theodore peers into his bottle curiously, then shakes his head and licks at the neck, huffing, "A- just tastes funky nowadays." Siiigh. He looks back over to Mischa next, waving at him cheerfully once more and turning his attention curiously to Young, "Nice to meet you James — Young." Yep, he says it just like that, offering up a small, toothy grin. He peers past Young to look curiously at Mignonette, twitching his nose at her and, rather than nod, he lifts a hand in a similarly friendly wave. Abbey's arrival is distracting if only because Mischa notices her, turning to look at her and, there, having a moment of coniption, "Ah! Aren't you cold? It's snowing outside! You should wear a jacket! You're going to get sick!" Teddy goes into 'fret' mode almost immediately, frowning seriously over the top of his bottle, now clasped in both hands.

Abbey orders a beer when ever the bartender is free. A glance is offered down the bar as she catches sight of Young and a few others near him. A slight smile and nod is offered before a voice gets her attention and she looks over to Mischa. She watches him a moment, thinking on who he may be talking to before a faint ah escaping her. "Right.. Thats a bad allergy she has there." This said while she smirks at the thought. Dog.. Right. She blinks hearing another voice and glances towards Theodore and just peers at him as if he was ill. "No.. I'm fine.. Have a leather jacket out in the truck, didn't want it smelling like smoke." An well vampires, she likes that jacket.

James seems to be surrounded on both flanks by people that know him, or know of him, which leads him to lowering his chin a bit and reaching forward with his right hand in order to signal the bartender. It's time to get completely wasted, so that he doesn't end up remembering a thing. He takes to a scotch, two shots, and pays for it with a small comment of assurance along the lines of 'absobloodylootely' in the richest of muttered accents. "Cheers, mates," he adds, to the air more so than toward anyone in particular now that people are conversing around him. It's a sure-fire way to go unnoticed if he doesn't join in.

It takes the bartender a while, to get back to Mignonette, what with all of the traffic coming up to the bar, but he does eventually. "Hasn't been in." Mignonette gives a nod, and a soft, "Thank you," before she steps back, a tip of her head for the waved hand from Theodore, before she turns her attention away from the bar, and the gathering crowds, and goes to begin the task of threading herself back through the eye of the needle to the door. She seems intent on going out as quietly and purposefully as she came in.

Mischa waves over at Theodore and then looks back towards Abbey, letting out a chuckle. "I guess it takes all kinds to make the world go around. I've never seen anyone bleed quite like that though." No less a vampire. When Theodore starts to fret about Abbey's lack of jacket, he can't help but chuckle. He reaches out and motions towards Abbey's shoulder. "I think she's just fine. Some people have higher body temperatures than others, you know." Mischa is practically burning up in his own sweater, although he refuses to 'fess up to that one any time soon. He leans in to the bartender and mutters something lowly along the lines, "A round on the house for everyone at the bar," before he straightens again and momentarily reaches into his pocket, tossing out a fifty dollar bill. Which more or less exhausts his cash flow for the night, at least.

Abbey hums while she looks to Mischa and smirks some. "Ya.. It was a lot of blood wasn't it?" She blinks as he offers to buy a round of drinks. "Thanks for the drink." Is offered to Mischa before a faint ah escapes her at the talk about her being cold. "I'm fine.. Trust me there." She says while takes a sip of her beer once the tender gives it to her.

James downs the first with not a care in the world but the werewolf eyeballs the second shot while the others talk of blood and blood - he cannot expect anything less, considering where he is currently at - but the second shot flows smoothly down like the first. With a knowing look towards Abbey, he'll be trying to get a story out of her sooner or later about this bleeding dog business. However, for now, he leans forward against the bar in order to look towards Mischa. "You," he states plainly, boldly even, "You - are a god damn saint. Somewhere out there, there's a statue made of gold - and that statue looks like you." He nods decisively, politely curses, and turns in order to watch the lawyer begin to depart.

"Miss Savoy," Young calls out. This is the bait he casts: himself. He holds up a hand to try and garner Mignonette's attention. "Care to have a drink, or are you too busy freeing the guilty I put behind bars?"

Mignonette has not gotten so far, that she cannot hear Young's comment, and she turns back, her expression impassive. Well, not really, amused, mildly, might be the better term for it. She retraces her steps coming back to the bar, steps a few feet from him, "I like to think of it as freeing the innocent, who have been wrongfully imprisoned as a result of shoddy policework, of which I am certain you're no stranger." her eyes fall to the shot glasses James' just emptied, and then to him, rather than to the bartender, "Bourbon, straight. Two fingers."

When Young's attention shoots towards Mischa and the proclamation about statues is made, the mild-mannered librarian rubs at the back of his neck for a moment. "Th-thanks?" He asks before looking to Abbey uncertainly. He turns back to Young and almost certainly blushes, though it's hard to tell in the dim light of the bar. "It was nothing, I just got a bonus at work, you know…" Mischa trails off there before he glances back towards Abbey and smiles at the woman. "Well, things keep getting more and more interesting. By the way, I'm Mischa." He offers Abbey a hand while the other reaches for his beer, bringing the bottle to his lips and taking in a long pull of it before he puts it back down on the bar top.

"Oh," breathes Young and he holds onto his gut as if he were just impaled by - well - by the invisible fist of righteous lawyering. "If only that were true, if only that were true," he sighs this out and quiets down in order to lick his wounds. In the process, another shot is delivered and while glancing sidelong towards Mignonette and her bourbon-ordering he drinks it up. He smiles, but it doesn't last much. Instead, he pauses and holds the stubbed glass close to his lips with a thought or two playing over his expression. Curious, he turns toward Mischa. "Well, I know Abbey is one hell of a mechanic and the same could be said of Mignonette here with law, what about you?"

Mignonette steps up to the bar, as her drink is delivered, settling onto a stool with the grace only long hours of practice can grant, legs demurely crossed, an arm resting on the edge of the bar, as she retrieves her drink. A sip, a small one, before she sets the glass back down, briefcase settled beside it, "It is true. As you well know. Or have you forgotten State vs. Delaney?" A lift of her shoulders, "Perhaps you have…it was such a long time ago in your career." And then she quiets, glancing along the bar at the other two who seem to have fallen within Young's circle of attention. And just for the briefest of moments, there's a flash of something…protectiveness perhaps, in the angle of her body, the turn of her head. As much as she might hate the officer and boy does it show, she also seems rather concerned for his wellbeing.

"Mischa Alexandrov, librarian." He shakes Abbey's hand gently before he finishes off his beer and then reaches into his back pocket, taking the cell phone out. "That late already? Huh. I wasn't expecting it…" He trails off there before smiling at the group of people gathered around the bar. "Mignonette is an interesting name, French?" Mischa asks, as the bartender presses a wad of change into his hand from the round that he bought. He pockets it before reaching up to rub at his forehead somewhat. "Excuse me, everyone. Work calls bright and early in the morning… I hope you all enjoy the drinks and hopefully I'll bump into some of you again sometime soon." With that, Mischa is pocketing his cell phone once more and heading towards the door.

Abbey chuckles softly as she hears James. "Well.. I don't like to brag about it." She says with an amused tone. A glance is offered back to Mignonette while she sips at her drink, as for the look the other lady gives her, Abs doesn't seem worried. She merely offers the sweetest, and friendlyest smile back to the other lady. "Ello." She offers with her thick Irish accent playing through. Her gaze drifts back to Mischa and she offers him a slight smile and nods to him. "Thanks again for the drink.. Have a good night."

James lifts his hand in order to deflect from Mignonette's words. One thing or another keeps him from verbally replying but as prideful as he is, he is not willing to leave it alone; thus, he mutters dryly and incoherently under his breath before turning his attention towards Mischa. "Librarians walk around with that kind of cash? Nice, I love this city," is his response just before relaxing and nodding, lifting his emptied glass to the other man in thanks. He then looks between Mignonette and Abbey, debating if he should speak up or not. The werewolf keeps his head low instead. He isn't stupid; women are dangerous!

"French, yes. And thank you." She did hear the call for the round, even if she only accepted it late in the game. "Perhaps we will," she offers, as Mischa prepares to leave and she tracks him, at least until he disappears into the crowd, and then she returns to the bar, just in time to catch the woman's hello and offers her own, as sweet as the one given, an unfailingly genuine, coming as it does with a respectful tip of her head, "Madame." She reclaims her glass, taking another small sip.

Abbey doesn't seem to think much of the conversation that was started between she and Mignonette. Her gaze turns back to James. "How is your car running anyway?" She questions curiously while tilting her head, pale gaze resting on him seeming to pick up a bit of tension between him and Mignonette.

So far, so good, he is not being mauled or verbally chewed into. This works out well enough for James and he smiles at the question. "Excellent, actually," he turns to face Abbey, nodding. "I haven't been having any problems with the bike, but if you're into panheads then I can bring it over and let you play with it. Though, I've got a few cases at hand, which, speaking of, reminds me." He lifts a hand and then stands up in one fell swoop, just so he can straighten himself out and look between Mignonette and Abbey. "I've to sleep. I hope the two of you have a lovely evening and I apologize that I won't be able to spend mine in your company."

Mignonette as well, rises from her place at the bar, after she finishes the last of her drink. She seems neither pleased nor displeased at the other woman's reaction to her or lack there of. A moment, to retrieve her briefcase, hands smoothing her skirt, before she steps up to James, "I'm certain that we both will. And a good evening to you." That, to Abbey, before she preps to leave, "Alex can give you a ride back. We wouldn't want to add drunk driving to your record, would we?" A final flash of a smile, before she moves to make good on the departure that was cut short earlier.

Abbey hums softly while she listions to James. "Sure.. You can bring it by the shop when ever." A smile and nod is seen as he talks about leaving, before a glance is offered to Mignonette at the comment and she smirks faintly. "Night.." Is offered to the exiting other woman. "If you need a ride James and Alex can't take you I can drop you off where ever."

"I'll see about bringing it over before work," amiably replies the off-duty cop. Then, he looks to Mignonette. James holds up his hand and breathes into it with a light huff, enough to sniff at his breath. He shakes his head with a glance towards Abbey; drinking with a large dose of stamina and willpower, one of their shared trade secrets. "I'm glad the both of you care so much, but it's only a block or two. I could've walked if I wanted." He'll be fine on his lonesome and with that he makes to leave.

Abbey looks rather amused, it takes a lot to get her even remotly buzzed let alone drunk so she isn't that worried about the other wolf driving home it seems. "Right, what I figured." She says with an amused tone. "Have a good night, an I'll talk to you later then." This said with a nod and friendly smile.

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