"We've all got some ghosts to chase."

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In bright neon, struggling against the night:

TAWNY'S REST
​
The sign hummed and crackled every so often, breaking the silence of the lonely street. The entrance was closed, but the faint sound of music and chatter among the bar's patrons signified that it was indeed open for business. The bartender & owner, Tawny Shay, opened this establishment in the mid-40's for those with nowhere else to go during those pesky late nights. It was nearing 3 A.M. and the bar was just as lively as ever - well, as lively as it could ever get. There were the occasional rowdy individuals that would stop by and try to cause trouble, but eventually left when they realized the patrons didn't care one bit about their empty bravado. Outside of those, people kept to themselves, everybody knew each other, and were generally polite to Tawny. He liked that. He hardly talked, mostly because he was getting up there in age and it hurt his throat, but also because his voice often unnerved others. Despite his kindly, humble old-man appearance, he had a booming, commanding voice that knocked people on their asses.

This night seemed different. There was something in the air, perhaps it was because he forgot to take his meds so he was feeling a little loopy, or perhaps it was because there was only a few people in the bar. It'd been like this for a few days now, were people done with drinking their sorrows away? That's a depressing thought, certainly one to drive a man to drinking. He began to have thoughts of closing up early for the night. . . or for good. For someone of his age and experience, he should be doing something more. But he held interest in little else other than providing a service for people. Maybe he could dress up in tights and wear his underwear on the outside of his raggedy costume.

"Ha."

The outburst caused him to have a coughing fit - damn, he's seriously getting old. Where had the time went? He remembered as a kid during the early 19th​ century, he never got sick. Or was it the 17th ​century? He could never tell anymore. The fit ceased, and he was glad to get back to polishing glasses. Now if only there were new customers. . . ​
 
Virginia sighed in frustation and scratched her head as she strolled around in the street. She was getting tired. Tired of living alone. Tired of getting fired (today was the third time this year), tired of everything. She kept refusing this to herself but now she couldn't help but admit how much these past three years fuck*d her up. Damn, she really could use a drink right now.

You shall ask, and you shall receive.

Or some shit like that because, holy crap, a bar! Finally, something good. With renewed energy, Virginia dashed quickly towards the bar, excited. She entered the Tawney's Rest and headed towards the balcony and sat on the chair.

"Hey! Bartender!" She waved both her arms above her, drawing attention of everybody present. Oh well, whatever. She found a bar so she didn't give a damn anymore. She just didn't think about the part where she doesn't have any money to pay, but what the hell. She could wash the dishes later.
 
Rowdy.

Always with the rowdy patrons just as he'd think of closing up shop. Not that he particularly minded this one, she seemed agreeable enough, just a little lively is all. He dips his head in acknowledgement of her arrival, then sets down a shot glass and a regular sized glass should she just want enough alcohol to pass the time. He turns, giving full view to the vast array of liquor behind him. In front of him, there's four taps of mystery beer, labeled only "Stout", "Ale", "Lager", and "Malt". There's a careful smile on his face, almost as if he were saying "You're here, try our best." But there's also something else behind that smile, and while he's waiting for the girl's choice, he dips his head again and speaks.

"Welcome to the Rest."
 
"Thanks. So, uh... You got any recommendation? Something strong, perhaps? 'Dunno." Virginia asks with a little frown. It's been a while since the last time she went to a bar, and she was feeling rather out of place to be honest. Maybe that was for the best. The woman shivered as the memory of the last time she got drunk in a bar passed her mind. Yep, that was embarrassing.

"Uh... Not too strong, actually."
 
He nods, keeping his own vow of silence in check. The shot glass is tucked away in favor of the beer glass, which is slid over to the "Lager" tap. It's poured a little over halfway full, with little to no foam, despite that the beer looks crisp and refreshing. House specialty, though it's been so long even he's forgotten what it tastes like. He gains a hankering to pour himself a glass as well, though that'd be a bad habit to take up again, especially in front of a lady. Best always to keep your manners in check, his mom'd always say. 'Course, she always told him not to drink after pouring herself a fourth finger of scotch. Crazy lady. He pushes the glass toward the woman and nods, not quite a dip, more of an acknowledgement. Here's your beer, miss. the look in his eyes, calm and collected, says. But he decides to speak again, and here is when he knows he's getting old.

" 'S your name? Don't get many young'in's around here (I assume as much anyhow he thinks to himself) these days. Won't bother to ask if you're of legal age, it's your life." though, he doesn't entirely mean that in the do whatever you want sense, rather you wanna fuck it up, be my guest. He'll never let his customers hear him say that. Shame, too. If he'd spoken his mind a few more times in the past, he wouldn't have had as many wounds in his back. " 'Course, it's no bother ta me if you'd rather me not know. Jus' a bartender, 'course."
 
Virginia picks up her beer and takes a sip, letting the liquid roll around her tongue. Almost instantly, her brows went up, an expression of upper surprise and delight on her face. Damn, she had forgotten how much she missed a good beer. The pleasure almost made her miss the bartender talking, her bright emerald eyes turning to eye the man.

"Nah, I don't really care. It's Virginia. My name, that is." She paused for a minute, as if thinking about something before adding. "Or Freddy. Most people call me Freddy. They think it's easier or more casual, or some shit like that." The woman just shrugged with her shoulders, taking another sip of her beer. She couldn't help but mutter "Damn, this is good."

"And yours?" Virginia asked, pointing the glass towards the man. "Or should I just call you Mr. bartender?"
 
" One more night then I can move on to the next hell hole." Rieux thought to himself.

There was a flickering street lamp from which a dingy yellow light grimly dance around a homeless boy that was sitting against the light pole and playing a broken accordion; his hunger wheezed back and forth. Rieux felt something and reached in his pocket. As he threw some change in the boy´s buskin tin, he heard the sharp buzzing of neon lights. " It'll probably be better to spend the night indoors." Just when Rieux neared the door, the street lamp sputtered out and so did the accordion. He swung around and sharply scanned the street. "....."

Rieux opened the door, stepped in and noticed an old bar tender and a lady, as he closed the door behind. Rieux never really cared for company, but it was smarter to deal with drunkards than to take his chances outside. He moved to the darkest corner in the bar, sat down and lit a cigarette. Surrounded by a cloud of smoke, Rieux fixed his gaze on the front door and waited.
 
While Virginia waited for the bartender to reply, she heard someone entering the bar. Turning around, she saw a guy walking in and sitting in the corner, away from her. Subconsciously, she raised a brow as the guy lit a cigarette.

"That stuff's going to kill ya one day." She said loud enough to reach the corner of the bar, her short jet black hair waving around as she nodded towards the cigarette.
 
Rieux put out the cigarette. There was a faint sizzle as the smoke cleared. Without looking up, he exhaled the last bit of smoke from his lungs and replied, "the night kills, cigarettes just past the time."

He slowly raised his head. Smoke swirled around his dark glasses, as he put the cigarettes in the inside pocket of his worn overcoat, " that giggle water your drinkin' ain't gonna help. "
 
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Virginia gave a short humorless laugh and shrugged.

"Touché." She finished the drink in one long sip, licking the remaining liquid on her lips. "Hm? My story?" A self-loathing smile formed on her face. Her eyes that were facing the man turned to look at the empty glass in front of her. Emerald eyes shone with anger and resentment. After a minute of silence, Virginia finally found her voice.

"Got fired. Again. The boss was a sexist pig, said there wasn't place for a woman at the science field. I said go fuck yourself. Apparently, that's something you shouldn't say to your boss." She raised her gaze towards the man, the anger now gone and replaced by curiosity. "What about you?"
 
Rieux pulled out a cigarette and with a clink of his lighter, he was engulfed in smoke. He let out a stream of smoked that seemed to power its way across the room.

"Barkeep - you got some mineral water back there? I'd like something fizzy."

He slightly turned his head away from the door, towards Virginia, "there are better things to hate, but if you have to hate, I suppose that'll do. " He put out the cigarette and thought for a moment. "My story... It's temporary like everyone else's. I'm just traveling through this city looking for something. Kind of what you are doing now: I could use some jazz tonight."
 
"Uhm. I see." Virginia said with a slight nod of her head. She pushed the empty glass aside and turned to fully face the other, taking in his features.

"I'm Virginia, by the way. Or Freddy. People prefer to call me Freddy, they say it's easier or some shit like that." She shrugged. "And you, stranger? Surely, someone looking for some jazz must have a name." She said with a playful smile.
 
Rieux paused for a moment. every sound, no matter how insignificant, trickled through his mind. Each blink of the eye made a visceral knock, as though something from the inside were asking to enter: to step into the world. Every heart beat pulsed with purpose..."good thing this joint is slow tonight", he thought to himself. Rieux tried to blend the innate melody; but, there was an odd beat about this place, which seemed to play tricks on what would otherwise be a somatic rhythm. Leaving the mystery aside for a moment, he carefully placed his hat on the table - "Rieux."
 
Virginia raised a brow upon hearing the other's name, it was the first time she heard it.

"Interesting name. I like it." She commented with a smile. Her right hand, that was resting on the counter, gestured towards the air, with no target in mind. "Odd place, huh? But strangely comforting."
 
He placed his hat back on his head. "I've seen stranger places." Rieux stood up, calmly walked to the bar and helped himself to a club soda. After a deep drink, he let out a quiet breath of satisfaction.

Rieux returned to the shadows, sat down and lit a cigarette. "So, how did you get a name like Freddy?"
 
Virginia hummed in thought, a warm smile slowly forming on her lips.

"Dad wanted a girl, mom a boy. She liked the name Fred, and dad the name Virginia. They fought over it, but since a girl was born, Fred would be a little strange. So they agreed to name me Virginia and Freddy." Her voice was gentle and with a hint of nostalgia as she spoke about her parents. "So yeah. Freddy."
 
The lights flickered. Rieux unchanged in his expression, "well, Freddy, you ever get the feeling that things are about to change? To night is one of those nights. There are lies that don't want to be found. I'm here to find them."

Riuex pulled out a dented harmonica and began to play Bye Bye Blackbird. The bar became still, as though, time were slowing down. Soft gentle sounds crept into every crack: swirling; looking to discover the truth. He stopped playing, "so, Freddy, what do you do when you're not drinking in joints like this?"
 
John walked into the bar.
Here comes another night of fun. He thought to himself. He enjoyed getting away from his poor boy act by the street light, especially when it had been a long day.
''Ok, who wants to get me out of these rags?''
He scanned the room.
SHIT!
He saw a previous ''customer'' and quickly lay face down on the floor.
''This...this will work. No one looks down anymore.'' He said to himself...out loud.
SHIT!
Ok, no need to panic, just relax. He thought as he continued to lie on the floor.
An ant crawled up his leg and bit into his inner thighs fleshy goodness.
But, luckily for John, he was a quick thinker and was best in tight situations.
He began to scream whilst rolling on the floor, grabbing and beating the area where the ant had struck.
 
Rieux watched the comedy act. After it was over, he lit a cigarette and said, " if you're thirsty, you might as well help yourself. It seems the barkeep is taking the night off."
 
John looked up. The bar did seem to be empty but he was unsure about the men. He stopped beating himself and sat on his hands, legs streched out on the floor.
''Who are you two? Haven't seen you round here before...why you here?''
 
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