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Post by Odin on Mar 30, 2009 21:23:11 GMT -5
((OOC: This occurs a few weeks after "Strolling" and after "Return to New York."))
::Odin's life had been an interesting one since he had developed his mutant abilities. All through his studies, and then his research and travels, he had accrued stories and met dozens of people. His life had become dangerous - yet interesting - when he had encountered Laudine Piercefield and had nearly lost his life. He still bore the scars from that night.
After settling in New York, his life had been steadier. Then he had met Stacy and had settled with her and work, and his life had become interesting again. More so after she had left. Two riots, rescuing friends, and encountering Magneto in a cafe. When had he asked for any of this?
Then he had received the letter in the mail, and it had become too much for him. He had spending several days mulling over his recent life events and had decided against using the Hellfire Club for the setting. After spending his free time for days in his apartment, he had gone out at night in search of somewhere new.
He had heard of Spades in passing; not a mutant-only club, but mutant-friendly, and that would do for now. Entering the club, he approached the bar, deep in thought.::
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Post by Typhoid on Mar 30, 2009 21:38:21 GMT -5
Typhoid had just gotten into work fifteen minutes before, and she was training with the bartender on making drinks. Staff was short, one of the other bartenders had found another job, and Sandra had been forced to start training waitstaff as backups. She was busy learning how to make a Sicilian Kiss when Odin walked towards the bar, and so she didn't see him at first. His heartbeat, of course, was familiar, but so were several other people on staff, and she'd learned to tune things out when she vaguely recognized someone, unless it was important. Right now, she was concentrated on her job.
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Post by Odin on Mar 30, 2009 21:40:43 GMT -5
::Odin took an empty seat at the bar, tuning out his tracking sense to give him better ability to concentrate. There were several mutants here, although not as many as he would find at the Hellfire Club. He withdrew a ten-dollar bill from his wallet and set it down on the bar, waiting for the bartender to make his or her way over and take his order.::
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Post by Typhoid on Mar 30, 2009 21:48:41 GMT -5
Typhoid finished making the drink, and gave it to a waiting waitress to serve. She went over absently to the newcomer at the bar, her mind decidedly elsewhere. It had been two weeks since she'd seen Pietro at all, and every time she thought about it she tried to force herself not to. It wasn't working. "What can I..." She did a double take then actually looked at who she was talking to. "Oh. Odin."
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Post by Odin on Mar 30, 2009 21:57:29 GMT -5
::Odin looked up at the familiar voice, his tracking sense confirming what he already knew. Eight million people in this city, and he kept finding the same handful with no effort on his part. Such was his life.:: "You're happier to see me than usual."
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Post by Typhoid on Mar 30, 2009 22:02:59 GMT -5
Her eyebrow rose. "What's usual? I've seen you three times." She thought about that, then amended. "Four."
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Post by Odin on Mar 30, 2009 22:09:59 GMT -5
"That's enough for a pattern," ::Odin pointed out. His hand remained on the top of the bar, fingering his bill.:: "It was also a joke; you're somewhat distracted."
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Post by Typhoid on Mar 30, 2009 22:17:15 GMT -5
She shook her head a little at herself. "Sorry. I am." Taking a breath, she reverted into her job. "What can I get you?"
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Post by Odin on Mar 30, 2009 22:22:52 GMT -5
"A Black Devil," ::Odin replied. It was a rum-based cocktail, similar to a martini sans the gin.::
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Post by Typhoid on Mar 30, 2009 23:05:46 GMT -5
She turned around and went to mix the drink, adding the rum and vermouth into a mixer with cracked ice and straining it into a cocktail glass, adding a black olive. The whole procedure took maybe two minutes, and she returned with the drink in hand, setting a napkin down underneath it. "I hope you don't consider meeting at a riot a part of a normal pattern," she said, a little amused, setting the drink down on the napkin.
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Post by Odin on Mar 31, 2009 12:45:43 GMT -5
"Thank you," ::Odin said, and slid his bill across the bar to her. Having never ventured to Spades before, he didn't know what the drink would cost, but it couldn't possibly be more than ten dollars. He then lifted the drink, sipped it, and nodded with approval.:: "We've met twice, at two different riots, and you'd be surprised how much you can learn about a person from how they behave in a crisis."
::Odin paused, long enough to take another sip of his rum.:: "And I did mention I said it as a joke."
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Post by Typhoid on Mar 31, 2009 20:42:30 GMT -5
((I haven't the faintest idea what alcohol costs in NYC, so bear with me))
She gave him a five as change and put the cash in her pocket; Sandra always specified not to use top shelf liquor unless asked, so she hadn't, otherwise the price would have been more. "So you did." Verbal back-and-forth just wasn't on the forefront of her mind, otherwise she might have joked back.
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Post by Odin on Mar 31, 2009 20:47:26 GMT -5
((OOC: I shall.))
::Odin took his change and slipped it into his pocket; he would use it later. He noticed how quiet she was, peculiar for the pattern they had developed.:: "Penny for your thoughts?"
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Post by Typhoid on Mar 31, 2009 21:00:58 GMT -5
Ty leaned against the bar, given a small respite considering business was slow at this hour. She shrugged. "Personal problems," she said, which was sort of an obvious statement to make, but at least it didn't betray the bent of her emotions regarding those problems.
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Post by Odin on Mar 31, 2009 21:07:49 GMT -5
::Odin did what came naturally and read her gene; not surprisingly, everything was in order there. The minute his powers began to fizzle out, then he knew the apocalypse was upon them. And since this was not a power problem, "personal" meant "inter-personal." Such a common infliction.:: "Relationships are difficult."
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