R
Rexcalibur
Guest
"So you're sure this... friend of yours can help us out?"
"Oh, definitely! He does this kinda stuff all the time." The bartender replied as he scrubbed away at the countertop. Drunken Cortecs were the worst alien customers. They were the absolute clumsiest, always spilling their dang green goop jello shots and those were the toughest to clean out! "You just need to - grunt - run a quick errand for him first, and he'll get you covered. That's it."
The winged man across the bartender crossed his arms, raising a brow. "An errand, huh? Is that our payment?" His lax grin never faded, despite his incredulity. "I don't know, Crispin. That sounds pretty shady."
Crispin the bartender laughed. He twirled the dirty rag around his finger as he grinned back at his harpy friend. "Hahaha! Why else would he call himself Shady, though? See, Angel - he's freakin' brilliant."
Loud pop music boomed through the oversized jukebox. Combined with the rowdy ramblings of surrounding drunks, it wasn't hard to hide their conversation; everyone else was thoroughly engrossed with whatever they were doing. Angel, the harpy, took comfort in the bar's rambunctious atmosphere, though his hooded lady friend was muted. Jittering, even.
"Yeah, brilliant, I guess." The harpy took another gulp of whiskey. "But I can't say I'm comfortable. Are you sure he'll help us?"
Crispin leaned forward on the countertop. He nudged his chin in the direction he wanted the two customers to look. "See that guy over there? The guy with the yellow skin. No, the one with the eyepatch and four-- yeah, that guy. He's a regular here." The alien he referred to was enjoying a game of darts with three others, bantering and laughing among one another as all the other customers were. "That guy is a crook. Was a crook. He stabbed an employee at Mallwart because their headlight fluids were too expensive. Got a bounty for it. Ridiculous, right? Well, he talked to Shady and now he's a clean man. ...well not really 'clean,' the jerk spills his drinks all the time and it's so--"
"Please get to the point."
The bartender flinched. He had completely forgotten Angel had brought along someone else. "I'm sorry miss, I didn't catch your name?"
"Florence."
"Florence..." Crispin flicked his wrist, expecting some elaboration.
"Just Florence."
"All right, all right." He held his palms up defensively. "Guess it's that serious, huh? Angel, what'd you guys do, anyway?"
Beneath her hood, Florence rolled her eyes. Though her winged companion was dressed smartly, open and proud in his appearance, the pink-haired woman was dressed in a black cloak, which concealed every inch of her pale skin except for her eyes and face. Also unlike her companion, she was without a drink.
"Angél," she said flatly, staring at her reflection in the countertop, if only to avoid eye-contact with the bartender. "Why are we here. Why are we meeting here, and not someplace more private?"
The winged man chuckled, reaching for his glass. "What have I told you about calling me that? Besides, Crispin works here. It's the easiest place to--"
"I'm serious. There's too many people. I don't like it."
Crispin laughed as he turned away from them, heading towards another customer with empty glasses. Angel grinned, though kept his eyes on his own glass. "Honey, take a look around."
The bar was expansive, one of the largest in town. Particularly because - "It's an alien hotspot." That much was true. Although Ellenses was a fairly large town, aliens and other humanoids were still in the minority population compared to humans. A simple glance over the shoulder, and Florence understood that this was perhaps the only infrastructure in town where aliens outnumbered human guests.
Angel in particular was content with their meetup joint. He finished off his glass of whiskey as he waited for Crispin to return. Harpies were rare throughout the region, and in any other location, Angel's wings and feathered legs (talons included) were a dead giveaway. But here, in a bar flooded with other humanoids and non-humans, he blended in well. A winged pretty boy doesn't stand out as much as a beefy anthropomorphic pincer-handed lobster, for instance.
The harpy drummed his fingers along the countertop. A feminine bartender with elephant skin approached him, intending to refill his glass, but Angel waved her away with a smile. Soon enough, his friend had returned with a new glass of whiskey.
Rubbing his hands together, Crispin leaned closer to Angel and Florence. He glanced around warily before speaking. "All right, look. There's this artifact - this gem, all right. It's big, it's red, it's shiny - everyone wants it. You know which one I'm talking about. The Red... the Red Eye? Or something? It's over at the museum, the one down south.
"Anyway, that thing is heavily guarded. All Shady wants is for you guys to get it for him. You should be able to figure it out, right?" He licked his lips. "And Shady... likes the shade, you know? He's kinda lazy, he won't do anything that requires being out in the open. So he wants you two to get it for him as payment."
Florence maintained a deadpan expression throughout Crispin's explanation.
Angel smiled wryly. "He knows about my family then, doesn't he? I have the money to..."
"Dude. He doesn't want money. He wants that gem." Crispin shrugged. He swiped away Angel's empty glass and began wiping it with the same dirty rag he used to clean everything else. "Maybe he can sell it for more than its worth. Maybe he likes shiny stuff. I don't know. But Angel, he wants that gem - the Red Eye. If you and Florence could retrieve it for him, consider yourselves clean."
"So you're sure this... friend of yours can help us out?"
"Oh, definitely! He does this kinda stuff all the time." The bartender replied as he scrubbed away at the countertop. Drunken Cortecs were the worst alien customers. They were the absolute clumsiest, always spilling their dang green goop jello shots and those were the toughest to clean out! "You just need to - grunt - run a quick errand for him first, and he'll get you covered. That's it."
The winged man across the bartender crossed his arms, raising a brow. "An errand, huh? Is that our payment?" His lax grin never faded, despite his incredulity. "I don't know, Crispin. That sounds pretty shady."
Crispin the bartender laughed. He twirled the dirty rag around his finger as he grinned back at his harpy friend. "Hahaha! Why else would he call himself Shady, though? See, Angel - he's freakin' brilliant."
Loud pop music boomed through the oversized jukebox. Combined with the rowdy ramblings of surrounding drunks, it wasn't hard to hide their conversation; everyone else was thoroughly engrossed with whatever they were doing. Angel, the harpy, took comfort in the bar's rambunctious atmosphere, though his hooded lady friend was muted. Jittering, even.
"Yeah, brilliant, I guess." The harpy took another gulp of whiskey. "But I can't say I'm comfortable. Are you sure he'll help us?"
Crispin leaned forward on the countertop. He nudged his chin in the direction he wanted the two customers to look. "See that guy over there? The guy with the yellow skin. No, the one with the eyepatch and four-- yeah, that guy. He's a regular here." The alien he referred to was enjoying a game of darts with three others, bantering and laughing among one another as all the other customers were. "That guy is a crook. Was a crook. He stabbed an employee at Mallwart because their headlight fluids were too expensive. Got a bounty for it. Ridiculous, right? Well, he talked to Shady and now he's a clean man. ...well not really 'clean,' the jerk spills his drinks all the time and it's so--"
"Please get to the point."
The bartender flinched. He had completely forgotten Angel had brought along someone else. "I'm sorry miss, I didn't catch your name?"
"Florence."
"Florence..." Crispin flicked his wrist, expecting some elaboration.
"Just Florence."
"All right, all right." He held his palms up defensively. "Guess it's that serious, huh? Angel, what'd you guys do, anyway?"
Beneath her hood, Florence rolled her eyes. Though her winged companion was dressed smartly, open and proud in his appearance, the pink-haired woman was dressed in a black cloak, which concealed every inch of her pale skin except for her eyes and face. Also unlike her companion, she was without a drink.
"Angél," she said flatly, staring at her reflection in the countertop, if only to avoid eye-contact with the bartender. "Why are we here. Why are we meeting here, and not someplace more private?"
The winged man chuckled, reaching for his glass. "What have I told you about calling me that? Besides, Crispin works here. It's the easiest place to--"
"I'm serious. There's too many people. I don't like it."
Crispin laughed as he turned away from them, heading towards another customer with empty glasses. Angel grinned, though kept his eyes on his own glass. "Honey, take a look around."
The bar was expansive, one of the largest in town. Particularly because - "It's an alien hotspot." That much was true. Although Ellenses was a fairly large town, aliens and other humanoids were still in the minority population compared to humans. A simple glance over the shoulder, and Florence understood that this was perhaps the only infrastructure in town where aliens outnumbered human guests.
Angel in particular was content with their meetup joint. He finished off his glass of whiskey as he waited for Crispin to return. Harpies were rare throughout the region, and in any other location, Angel's wings and feathered legs (talons included) were a dead giveaway. But here, in a bar flooded with other humanoids and non-humans, he blended in well. A winged pretty boy doesn't stand out as much as a beefy anthropomorphic pincer-handed lobster, for instance.
The harpy drummed his fingers along the countertop. A feminine bartender with elephant skin approached him, intending to refill his glass, but Angel waved her away with a smile. Soon enough, his friend had returned with a new glass of whiskey.
Rubbing his hands together, Crispin leaned closer to Angel and Florence. He glanced around warily before speaking. "All right, look. There's this artifact - this gem, all right. It's big, it's red, it's shiny - everyone wants it. You know which one I'm talking about. The Red... the Red Eye? Or something? It's over at the museum, the one down south.
"Anyway, that thing is heavily guarded. All Shady wants is for you guys to get it for him. You should be able to figure it out, right?" He licked his lips. "And Shady... likes the shade, you know? He's kinda lazy, he won't do anything that requires being out in the open. So he wants you two to get it for him as payment."
Florence maintained a deadpan expression throughout Crispin's explanation.
Angel smiled wryly. "He knows about my family then, doesn't he? I have the money to..."
"Dude. He doesn't want money. He wants that gem." Crispin shrugged. He swiped away Angel's empty glass and began wiping it with the same dirty rag he used to clean everything else. "Maybe he can sell it for more than its worth. Maybe he likes shiny stuff. I don't know. But Angel, he wants that gem - the Red Eye. If you and Florence could retrieve it for him, consider yourselves clean."
"Oh, definitely! He does this kinda stuff all the time." The bartender replied as he scrubbed away at the countertop. Drunken Cortecs were the worst alien customers. They were the absolute clumsiest, always spilling their dang green goop jello shots and those were the toughest to clean out! "You just need to - grunt - run a quick errand for him first, and he'll get you covered. That's it."
The winged man across the bartender crossed his arms, raising a brow. "An errand, huh? Is that our payment?" His lax grin never faded, despite his incredulity. "I don't know, Crispin. That sounds pretty shady."
Crispin the bartender laughed. He twirled the dirty rag around his finger as he grinned back at his harpy friend. "Hahaha! Why else would he call himself Shady, though? See, Angel - he's freakin' brilliant."
Loud pop music boomed through the oversized jukebox. Combined with the rowdy ramblings of surrounding drunks, it wasn't hard to hide their conversation; everyone else was thoroughly engrossed with whatever they were doing. Angel, the harpy, took comfort in the bar's rambunctious atmosphere, though his hooded lady friend was muted. Jittering, even.
"Yeah, brilliant, I guess." The harpy took another gulp of whiskey. "But I can't say I'm comfortable. Are you sure he'll help us?"
Crispin leaned forward on the countertop. He nudged his chin in the direction he wanted the two customers to look. "See that guy over there? The guy with the yellow skin. No, the one with the eyepatch and four-- yeah, that guy. He's a regular here." The alien he referred to was enjoying a game of darts with three others, bantering and laughing among one another as all the other customers were. "That guy is a crook. Was a crook. He stabbed an employee at Mallwart because their headlight fluids were too expensive. Got a bounty for it. Ridiculous, right? Well, he talked to Shady and now he's a clean man. ...well not really 'clean,' the jerk spills his drinks all the time and it's so--"
"Please get to the point."
The bartender flinched. He had completely forgotten Angel had brought along someone else. "I'm sorry miss, I didn't catch your name?"
"Florence."
"Florence..." Crispin flicked his wrist, expecting some elaboration.
"Just Florence."
"All right, all right." He held his palms up defensively. "Guess it's that serious, huh? Angel, what'd you guys do, anyway?"
Beneath her hood, Florence rolled her eyes. Though her winged companion was dressed smartly, open and proud in his appearance, the pink-haired woman was dressed in a black cloak, which concealed every inch of her pale skin except for her eyes and face. Also unlike her companion, she was without a drink.
"Angél," she said flatly, staring at her reflection in the countertop, if only to avoid eye-contact with the bartender. "Why are we here. Why are we meeting here, and not someplace more private?"
The winged man chuckled, reaching for his glass. "What have I told you about calling me that? Besides, Crispin works here. It's the easiest place to--"
"I'm serious. There's too many people. I don't like it."
Crispin laughed as he turned away from them, heading towards another customer with empty glasses. Angel grinned, though kept his eyes on his own glass. "Honey, take a look around."
The bar was expansive, one of the largest in town. Particularly because - "It's an alien hotspot." That much was true. Although Ellenses was a fairly large town, aliens and other humanoids were still in the minority population compared to humans. A simple glance over the shoulder, and Florence understood that this was perhaps the only infrastructure in town where aliens outnumbered human guests.
Angel in particular was content with their meetup joint. He finished off his glass of whiskey as he waited for Crispin to return. Harpies were rare throughout the region, and in any other location, Angel's wings and feathered legs (talons included) were a dead giveaway. But here, in a bar flooded with other humanoids and non-humans, he blended in well. A winged pretty boy doesn't stand out as much as a beefy anthropomorphic pincer-handed lobster, for instance.
The harpy drummed his fingers along the countertop. A feminine bartender with elephant skin approached him, intending to refill his glass, but Angel waved her away with a smile. Soon enough, his friend had returned with a new glass of whiskey.
Rubbing his hands together, Crispin leaned closer to Angel and Florence. He glanced around warily before speaking. "All right, look. There's this artifact - this gem, all right. It's big, it's red, it's shiny - everyone wants it. You know which one I'm talking about. The Red... the Red Eye? Or something? It's over at the museum, the one down south.
"Anyway, that thing is heavily guarded. All Shady wants is for you guys to get it for him. You should be able to figure it out, right?" He licked his lips. "And Shady... likes the shade, you know? He's kinda lazy, he won't do anything that requires being out in the open. So he wants you two to get it for him as payment."
Florence maintained a deadpan expression throughout Crispin's explanation.
Angel smiled wryly. "He knows about my family then, doesn't he? I have the money to..."
"Dude. He doesn't want money. He wants that gem." Crispin shrugged. He swiped away Angel's empty glass and began wiping it with the same dirty rag he used to clean everything else. "Maybe he can sell it for more than its worth. Maybe he likes shiny stuff. I don't know. But Angel, he wants that gem - the Red Eye. If you and Florence could retrieve it for him, consider yourselves clean."
"So you're sure this... friend of yours can help us out?"
"Oh, definitely! He does this kinda stuff all the time." The bartender replied as he scrubbed away at the countertop. Drunken Cortecs were the worst alien customers. They were the absolute clumsiest, always spilling their dang green goop jello shots and those were the toughest to clean out! "You just need to - grunt - run a quick errand for him first, and he'll get you covered. That's it."
The winged man across the bartender crossed his arms, raising a brow. "An errand, huh? Is that our payment?" His lax grin never faded, despite his incredulity. "I don't know, Crispin. That sounds pretty shady."
Crispin the bartender laughed. He twirled the dirty rag around his finger as he grinned back at his harpy friend. "Hahaha! Why else would he call himself Shady, though? See, Angel - he's freakin' brilliant."
Loud pop music boomed through the oversized jukebox. Combined with the rowdy ramblings of surrounding drunks, it wasn't hard to hide their conversation; everyone else was thoroughly engrossed with whatever they were doing. Angel, the harpy, took comfort in the bar's rambunctious atmosphere, though his hooded lady friend was muted. Jittering, even.
"Yeah, brilliant, I guess." The harpy took another gulp of whiskey. "But I can't say I'm comfortable. Are you sure he'll help us?"
Crispin leaned forward on the countertop. He nudged his chin in the direction he wanted the two customers to look. "See that guy over there? The guy with the yellow skin. No, the one with the eyepatch and four-- yeah, that guy. He's a regular here." The alien he referred to was enjoying a game of darts with three others, bantering and laughing among one another as all the other customers were. "That guy is a crook. Was a crook. He stabbed an employee at Mallwart because their headlight fluids were too expensive. Got a bounty for it. Ridiculous, right? Well, he talked to Shady and now he's a clean man. ...well not really 'clean,' the jerk spills his drinks all the time and it's so--"
"Please get to the point."
The bartender flinched. He had completely forgotten Angel had brought along someone else. "I'm sorry miss, I didn't catch your name?"
"Florence."
"Florence..." Crispin flicked his wrist, expecting some elaboration.
"Just Florence."
"All right, all right." He held his palms up defensively. "Guess it's that serious, huh? Angel, what'd you guys do, anyway?"
Beneath her hood, Florence rolled her eyes. Though her winged companion was dressed smartly, open and proud in his appearance, the pink-haired woman was dressed in a black cloak, which concealed every inch of her pale skin except for her eyes and face. Also unlike her companion, she was without a drink.
"Angél," she said flatly, staring at her reflection in the countertop, if only to avoid eye-contact with the bartender. "Why are we here. Why are we meeting here, and not someplace more private?"
The winged man chuckled, reaching for his glass. "What have I told you about calling me that? Besides, Crispin works here. It's the easiest place to--"
"I'm serious. There's too many people. I don't like it."
Crispin laughed as he turned away from them, heading towards another customer with empty glasses. Angel grinned, though kept his eyes on his own glass. "Honey, take a look around."
The bar was expansive, one of the largest in town. Particularly because - "It's an alien hotspot." That much was true. Although Ellenses was a fairly large town, aliens and other humanoids were still in the minority population compared to humans. A simple glance over the shoulder, and Florence understood that this was perhaps the only infrastructure in town where aliens outnumbered human guests.
Angel in particular was content with their meetup joint. He finished off his glass of whiskey as he waited for Crispin to return. Harpies were rare throughout the region, and in any other location, Angel's wings and feathered legs (talons included) were a dead giveaway. But here, in a bar flooded with other humanoids and non-humans, he blended in well. A winged pretty boy doesn't stand out as much as a beefy anthropomorphic pincer-handed lobster, for instance.
The harpy drummed his fingers along the countertop. A feminine bartender with elephant skin approached him, intending to refill his glass, but Angel waved her away with a smile. Soon enough, his friend had returned with a new glass of whiskey.
Rubbing his hands together, Crispin leaned closer to Angel and Florence. He glanced around warily before speaking. "All right, look. There's this artifact - this gem, all right. It's big, it's red, it's shiny - everyone wants it. You know which one I'm talking about. The Red... the Red Eye? Or something? It's over at the museum, the one down south.
"Anyway, that thing is heavily guarded. All Shady wants is for you guys to get it for him. You should be able to figure it out, right?" He licked his lips. "And Shady... likes the shade, you know? He's kinda lazy, he won't do anything that requires being out in the open. So he wants you two to get it for him as payment."
Florence maintained a deadpan expression throughout Crispin's explanation.
Angel smiled wryly. "He knows about my family then, doesn't he? I have the money to..."
"Dude. He doesn't want money. He wants that gem." Crispin shrugged. He swiped away Angel's empty glass and began wiping it with the same dirty rag he used to clean everything else. "Maybe he can sell it for more than its worth. Maybe he likes shiny stuff. I don't know. But Angel, he wants that gem - the Red Eye. If you and Florence could retrieve it for him, consider yourselves clean."
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