Brigitte Clara Deleon: The young girl is sitting on a barstool of the near empty establishment. It's a mid level place, clean but by no means high end. She nurses her glass of Skyy, likely not her first, and leans forward against the counter with a saddened gaze.

Brigitte Clara Deleon: The girl is a shining example of mixing innocence with aristocracy. She holds well defined cheek bones and facial structure surrounding brilliant emerald eyes. She has soft rich natural blonde hair that falls to her mid back when its not curled or pinned up. She's a figure of beauty, thin in the right places and appropriately swelled in others. She emits a feeling of loss, like someone who either needs or longs to be taken care of. (appearance 4, innocent. youthful appearance)

Ashlyn Reale: *Her jacket was being shrugged off shortly inside the door - but the delicate leather gloves stayed firmly on. Gloves, scarf.. There was no asking, the jacket was just draped over the back of a chair at a three person table, and Tall Fair and Pretty sat down there in a moment of respite from the reasonably warmish day outside. Hell, she's settling into place before she's even taken a look around at all.

Brigitte Clara Deleon: Brigitte blinks over her shoulder to the new patron, casting a soft smile to Ashlyn when she enters. She slips fluidly from her stool and makes a slow meander in that direction, glass of crystal clear liquid clasped loosely in her delicate hand.

Ashlyn Reale: Ashlyn stands again and pulls out the chair across from her for Brigette to sit. Though the resonably fashionable scarf joins the jacket, the gloves remain in place. Long sleeves leave only about an inch of exposed skin on her thin arms. "Afternoon," she greets easily enough.

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She floats up gracefully to the girl's table, taking a slow sip from her vodka. "I hope I'm not bothering you, Ashlyn. You liked like you could use some company."

Ashlyn Reale: "Make yourself comfortable. I'm a people person," she allows, sitting again, legs crossing. Her black hair is styled, makeup subtle. That smile looks natural, if small. "It's early to be out still."

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She gives a tiny halfsmile, curling to her seat and wrapping one fair leg over the other. "I like coming out at this time. You can get a nice drink without having to worry about the bustle of the heavy bar crowd." She takes a sip and lays her glass to the table in front of her. "How've you been, love?"

Ashlyn Reale: "I've been holding up well, considering.." She lets that trail. Slim shoulders shrug a little, and looking past toward the bar, she slouches back casually in the seat. "Eli. The boys are still at a loss. ...It's kind of funny. Things are running into the ground for want of the male lead there, and I finally snag a man for myself on personal time. Don't you think that's funny?"

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She gives a tiny squint to the girl. A hurt look. She looks down to her glass. "So that's all Elijah ever was to you, love? His death.. a mere inconvenience to the industry.."

Ashlyn Reale: She shakes her head at that, a slow 'no'. "That's the only part I cn focus on. That's the only part that can be fixed, or recovered from. ...I wasn't in love with him. It's not like the tabloids say. We were just starting to get closer when it happened. We were just breaking ground, I think. I'm not sure how he felt when it happened, but...I'm going to miss the chance. We could have been really good friends, or..or something. We could have said so much more than we had. And we didn't." Her elbows settle on the table, hands clasping. Fingers lock together and she leans her chin against them, watching Brigette steadily. "I haven't actually known many people that have died. We had to be close, in a certain way. It's...still feeling unreal. I keep expecting him to be there. I keep remembering the first day, the looks he gave me between then and now and how eventually, sometimes grudgingly, they softened. We were almost doing well, at the end."

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She gives a tiny nod, still looking down to her glass. She lets a long pause go by before taking the vodka back up and swirling the liduid in her hand. A soothing motion, watching the fluid motion in the clear glass. "He loved you quite a bit. Even if he never had the courage to tell you.

Ashlyn Reale: She swallows faintly, grey-blue eyes closing. "He called everyone 'love'. I didn't think much of it at the time."

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She nods. "Its an expression most use lightly. But he for one, meant it everytime. It's part of who he was." She takes another sip from the glass, setting it back to the table. "Who he ~really~ was."

Ashlyn Reale: "At least he knew who he was," she mutters into her clasped hands. Her face is oddly placid, considering the out of place hardness in that. A pause. Her eyes open again, staring at the woman across from her. "He was really quite dear to you, wasn't he?"

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She gives a tiny nod, fingers daintily circling the rim of the glass. "We were close. We shared everything.." She trails off with another sad look to the table. "Do you know how he died?"

Ashlyn Reale: She shakes her head, slowly. "I didn't have the heart to ask, and nobody felt the need to really tell me. I sent something to be consoling to his mother, but...I don't even know exactly what for. I don't think I want to. I want to remember him in a better way than that."

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She gives another soft nod, reaching up to brush a cheek with a delicate hand. "I think I'm the only person that seems bothered by the fact that his murderer is still out there.. laughing most likely. Even those closest to him.. or acting it.. don't seem to give a damn about his passing. It.. sickens me."

Ashlyn Reale: "Sweety...not to be depressing, but a lot of killers are loose, especially in this city. It's a shame and a crime, especially that it happens every day. We have memories. Justice doesn't bring him back.."

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She shakes her head. "The system just makes no sense to me. The police know who did it.. And where she was staying directly after. They had everything right in front of them.. and they did nothing. All of Eli's closest friends know who killed him.. and they shrug it off. It's ridiculous. Of all the pain that woman caused Elijah, the least his friends could to.. is serve her the proper retribution. He deserved at least that."

Ashlyn Reale: "It's not my place. I don't know any of his friends, really - I've only seen the little stripper girl once. His mother could file abbout it, you know, it's up to relatives, not just his acquaintences.. Look, I don't like it any more than you do, but honestly I can't say if I've be able to sit through the trial even if it did happen.." Again, shaking her head slowly. "It's hard. Everything is so new.. It hurts you too, I know it must. Police never do anything. Ever."

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She gives a tiny squint to the girl, considering perhaps. "Do you miss he-" She cuts off with an awkward smile. "Him. Do you miss him?"

Ashlyn Reale: She nods slowly, curling a little, wistful smile. "He was fun.. glittery. I know he'd want us to live and enjoy life, not go to hell over his death, you know? Don't you think so?"

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She gives a tiny smile. "I know exactly what he wants. And it's roughly half and half. Always was a fickle one." She leans forward against the table with an odd gaze to the woman. She speaks softly. "You really don't know much about Ishhara, love.. It's too bad, really. You'd save yourself a good amount of greif in knowing some simple facts."

Ashlyn Reale: See that? She visibly stiffens, blinking twice in surprise at Brigette. The words have to sink into her like a drowning man sinks into the dark and depths of the waves. "...you..."

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She offers her a bright flash of familiar emerald eyes. Sparkling like sea water. She leans back with a soft smile, wrapping her cardigan more tightly around her chest. "I didn't want to startle you, love. There really is no easy way to bring it up.."

Ashlyn Reale: Ashlyn's frozen. Hell, she's only human...more or less. Her gaze averts, shoulders and hands tensing. "I thought you were.." Her voice is choking up already. Who could blame her?

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She gives a tiny nod, making a calming shhhhush noise softly between pretty lips. "The soul is what truely matters, love. Not the body." She leans back in with a tiny smile back over the table. "Hell, I could look like Elijah again if I wanted to.. but I'm afraid that could cause anthony to have a heart attack. We can't have that.."

Ashlyn Reale: "No," she insists firmly, " we can't." What? Dedicated? She eases forcibly, breathing out a long, slow breath and keeping her voice down. "E - ...Shit. Weren't you there, a few weeks ago?"

Brigitte Clara Deleon: "Outside the cafe you mean? When you grabbed the coin?" She gives a tiny smile. "I was there. Was almost killed for it."

Ashlyn Reale: "You and me both," she mutters, with a flinch.

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She extends a dainty hand across the table in a comforting offer to the girl. "I love you ashlyn. I may not have voiced it then.. But I want you to know it. You're very special to me."

Ashlyn Reale: Ashlyn reaches to take her hand, still gloved. She holds her hand in a moment of silence, lips pursed into a thin line of relived fear.

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She seems comfortable enough in silence. She holds the girl's hand loosely. When she's ready she'll say something. Best not to push the girl. After all.. this is all new to her.

Ashlyn Reale: "Why didn't you stop me?" A murmur, confused, resentful, afraid. Ah, that coin... There's another pause, brief but full. "...Tell me. Not right now, but tell me. I want to see you again. Tomorrow maybe, hours earlier than this. Anywhere but the parks. Then, tell me. Please. Please?"

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She frowns, looking down to the table. She gives her hand a tiny squeeze. "I didn't know. I had no idea what it is. Still don't."

William Halloran: Into the bar he steps, shrugging his shoulders a little as he pushes by an exiting patron. The man has seen better days, and we're not just talking about the battered in face. His eyes are downcast, shoulders slumped. The man looks completely defeated, and on a constant edge of worry at the same time. He scans the place, then heads for the bar.

Ashlyn Reale: "Evil," she murmurs without hesitation. "Alive. Evil. Hungry." All the basics, huh? Ashlyn makes not a single move to remove her gloves, and hasn't yet actually let go of her hand, either. But it's comforting enough to keep her from bolting right this second. "Tomorrow?"

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She instinctively looks to the door when it opens, trailing the man with pretty eyes. She gives him an appreciative once over before looking back to Ashlyn. Worried about the girl. She gives her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Tomorrow. We can meet wherever you like. Do you want to come to my hotel? It's quiet there."

Ashlyn Reale: There's a brief moment of hesitation. A glance aside to the new, smashed face, and back to Brig. She sounds more anxious than before to leave, now. "Sure. Your place. How does an early afternoon sound?"

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She nods and leans down to kiss the girl's gloved hand. "Come by anytime." she rattles off here the room is, and her cell number.

William Halloran: He drops onto a barstool, which creaks in complaint, and looks up to the bartender with a grunt. "Shots. Jack. And keep 'em comin'." Brigette gets a look when she looks him over...a look of disbelief mixed with sadness. He shakes his head and turns back around for his drinks.

Ashlyn Reale: She nods a little, jittery, shaken. "We'll have a lot to talk about," she assures, not entirely unpleasant but..it's assured. Ashlyn retreats with a not entirely easy smile, drawing away her hand and standing. she almost forgets the jacket and scarf - but those are settled over one thin arm on second thought.

Brigitte Clara Deleon: Brigitte stands in a fluid motion and pulls her glass to pretty lips, tipping back the rest of the vodka. She meanders back to the bar, sliding up two feet from Will with a soft smile to the tender. "Could I get another skyy, love? Thanks." She arches her back subtly in a tiny preen, waiting for her drink.

Ashlyn Reale: Ashlyn exits, and is gone.

William Halloran: He's already knocked back a couple shots, and he glances over to Brigette as she slides up. A moment's look, nothing more, before he looks back to his drinks. "Hi." Hey, he's trying to be polite.

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She looks over, pretending to be surprised at the greeting. "Oh. Hey." She gives a delicate smile to the man, leaning back against the bar with an arm tight across her chest in a meek pose. "Are you alright, love? I.. I don't want to be forward.. you just look like somethings bothering you."

William Halloran: He shrugs a little bit, picking up a shot. "Naah, ain't really fine. Ain't really love, either. We don't know each other well enough for that." Oooh, yes. Something hit a mark there.

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She gives a hurt look to the man, reaching across the bar to grasp her new glass of skyy. "I didn't mean it like that.. I was only trying to be nice." She frowns and looks to the ground, slowly meandering away from the crude man.

William Halloran: He looks back over his shoulder, watching her for a moment, and sighing deeply. Some people are just too fucking nice for their own sake, and William, even as crushed as he is, is one of them. "Sorry," he calls out over his shoulder. "Didn't mean to...fuck." He shakes his head, standing up off the stool and getting ready to pay for his drinks. Can't do anything right.

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She lingers a few feet from the man with the same sorry look on her face. As though he may as well have slapped her. "It's.. alright. I should be used to it." She takes a long sip.

William Halloran: "Naw, it ain't alright." He slaps some money down on the counter. "Ain't yer fault I'm in a bad mood."

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She gives a tiny shrug, meekly holding her cardigan to her chest. "If you'd like to unload.. I'm an excellent listener." She blinks back over to him with a soft halfsmile. "I.. could use the company. I don't like being alone."

William Halloran: He looks over at her for a moment, as if appraising her...and then shrugs. "A'ight. Hold on, lemme get something to drink." He looks up at the bartender, and buys a bottle of cheap Jack Daniels, before looking back to her, ready to follow her to her table.

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She makes a slow pace back to the table, swinging her hips nonchalantly with every step. She slips to her chair with a fluid motion, setting her glass of skyy to the table with a soft smile to the man. "I'm V. It's a pleasure." She extends a delicate hand to the brutish looking man.

William Halloran: He follows her along, reaching out to take her hand. Grip shockingly light...sort of dead-fish-ish, slack. "William."

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She'll hold his hand loosely until he pulls away. "So what's got you so down, William?"

William Halloran: He takes a seat opposite her. "Worried about someone. Ain't seen 'em for over a week now, and they ain't been back to their home." He pours himself a glass of the Jack.

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She frowns. "That's terrible. I trust you've called them.. checked common friends and whatnot?"

William Halloran: He shrugs. "She ain't got many friends."

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She gives a tiny smile, looking down to her glass and giving it a swirl. Eyeing the motion of the fluid. "I can relate."

William Halloran: He nods a little. "Me, too." He downs a good half of the glass in a couple quick swallows. "I mean, I got people I could check with, but...I dunno. I'm kinda wierd with 'em lately."

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She leans back in her chair, taking a long sip from the skyy. "Weird.. with them?"

William Halloran: "Yeah. On account'a them tryin' to kill my other friend an' all."

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She gives a concerned frown. "That.. that's aweful.." She leans forward again setting the glass to the surface of the table with a soft look to william. Concerned and loving. "Knowing.. would be worth it, I think. Even if it results in a falling out with this other friend.. it's best to know what's going on."

William Halloran: He blinks at the look she gives him, completely lost by it, and his expression goes a bit more forlorn. He finsihes off the glass and stares back at the table. "I...dunno. Maybe."

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She lays an elbow on the table, leaning her cheek against the back of her hand with an admiring gaze to the man. The same odd expression, staring. "I wish there was something I could do to help.."

William Halloran: He shrugs, chuckling bitterly a bit as he refills his glass. "'less you seen a topless chick with guns pokin' out anywhere an' can lead me to 'er, I dunno how."

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She quirks a brow with a tiny laugh "Can't say I have.. I'll keep a lookout for you.. if you like." She takes another slow sip from the vodka, eyeing the man's face.

William Halloran: "Awright." He looks up for a moment, catching her watching him, and frowns...a definite self-conscious look from him. "What?" It's not a defensive question, just kind of lifeless.

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She gives another out of place loving smile to the man, watching him still. "You have no idea how beautiful you are, william."

William Halloran: He snorts a little at that, again disbelieving, still bitter, maybe sad. "You gotta be kiddin' me, right?"

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She shakes her head no with the same soft smile to the man "I'm not. It's rare..to see such passion nowadays. I can tell you really care about your friends. It's refreshing."

William Halloran: He looks at her for a long moment, eyes narrowing slightly. Some fucked up fan who's trying to be a hanger-on? She doesn't look like the wrestling fan type...hooker, maybe? He's hurting enough over that...he shakes his head. "Just don' wanna see 'em get hurt. But I can't seem t'stop it. Ever."

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She gives a tiny nod, looking back down to her glass giving it another swirl. "It happens.. even to the best of us. Bad times.."

William Halloran: "Yeah, well, lemme know when the good times start." he pulls out a battered soft pack smokes, shaking one out and putting it between his lips. "An' when they ain't just a set-up for worse times. Ain't fallin' fer that shit again."

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She gives a tiny frown, pretty eyes still down to her drink. "There are still good aspects of these times, William. You just have to keep an open eye.. and an open mind.. to be able to see them."

William Halloran: "Yeah, I guess." He shrugs non-commitally. "Maybe some day, I'll find 'em. Just not now."

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She blinks with a soft smile up to the man. "You're tense, William. You need to unwind."

William Halloran: He raises the glass to his lips. "Tryin'." A strong swig.

Brigitte Clara Deleon: "Alcohol won't help you relax.. it'll only make you feel worse in the morning. I know." She takes a long sip from her glass casting another loving smile his way. "You should let me give you one of my world famous massages. Loosen those strong shoulders of yours."

William Halloran: He blinks, looking up to her. Not really knowing how to respond to that, he just gives a very simple: "Huh?"

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She stands with another fluid motion and wraps slowly around the man. She lays delicate hands on his shoulders.. testing the waters so to speak. Not wanting to get backhanded.

William Halloran: No, she very probably would not want to get backhanded by the man. Would probably sting a bit. Lukily, no backhand is forthcoming. He just kind of freezes as she puts her hands on his shoulders, staring at his drink. Completely unsure how to take this, even tensing up just the slightest bit more.

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She runs her hands over his shoulders before working her hands in more adamantly. "It's alright.. Relax.." She gives a soft laugh

William Halloran: A slow breath, and he nods silently. He forces himself to relax a little, but it doesn't work all that well. Not at all used to being touched in a manner that isn't violent, it appears. "Er...sorry."

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She continues to rub his shoulders and leans in to lay a gentle kiss to the top of his head. "It's alright. You didn't do anything wrong."

William Halloran: "Oh. Okay. Sorry." Yes, he just apologized for apologizing. Still staring at his drink, very still as she rubs his shoulders. He flinches slightly at the kiss.

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She continues to rub his shoulders, content to stand behind the man in doing so. "So.. tell me more about yourself?"

William Halloran: "Umm...kay." He breathes in and out, slowly. "M'a pro wrestler for a local promotion here in New York...bounce at a place called the Dolphin on my days off." He purses his lips, not sure what else to say. "I, uh...what else ya wanna know?"

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She gives a soft laugh, running one hand from his shoulders to brush the back of his neck. "This isn't an interrogation. I was just curious. You're interesting. A wrestler? I don't think I've ever met a wrestler before.. Do you like it?"

William Halloran: He nods a little, a little unexpected shiver as she brushes over the back of his neck, a sensitive area. "Yeah. S'good times. Adrenaliene rush...pop from the crowd keeps me goin' sometimes, y'know? S'what I live for...or what..." He frowns, and then shrugs, picking up his drink. "Yeah, I like it."

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She tilts her head around to look at him, hands still delicately gracing his thick shoulders "Were you about to say something?"

Spitfire: And then the door opens and in he walks, the daredevil, the showstopper, The Spitfire. He looks around and damn it he actually looks in a good mood. Standing about 5,11 and all punk. He has bleached platinum blonde spiky hair, one pieced eyebrow, dog tags hanging around his neck and a black T-shirt covered in safety pins and other that a leather jacket at the moment. Dark ripped jeans lead down from that to tight army style boots, all manner of heavy jewellery covers him, chains on wrists, a couple hanging from his waist. He looks tough, and he knows it, all in his movements, and though not a big man, he knows he can handle himself. Clean-shaven and good-looking, people notice him when he is around like there is electricity in the air when he hits a room. There is danger in those brown eyes, a sense of wild abandonment and crazy fun. ((Fame 1))

His arm is also draped over a gorgeous woman that looks far to good for his kind of class.

William Halloran: "Not important." He takes a swallow of his drink. "Don't matter none."

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She frowns, leaning back down to kiss the top of his head. "You can tell me. If you want. I don't want you to feel like you have to hold back.. you'd be surprised at what I deem important."

William Halloran: His eyes cast up to the door as Spitfire and Teri walk in, his face darkening a little.

Teri Jensen: *Strolling in with Spitfire, all but striking a pose in the doorway as if she's used to paparazzi at a far finer establishment*

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She looks from Will to spitfire and teri, a confused look across her fair features. She drapes both arms daintily over will's shoulder. My she's a clingy one.. always did have a thing for big guys.. especially ones that could be wrapped around her little finger.

William Halloran: He scowls at the entering duo, enough to not even tense when Brigette wraps around his shoulders. This is the last thing he needs...and he's focusing most of his attention on the man.

Spitfire: Will and Brigitte aren't the only ones that stare at the odd couple, Spitfire couldn't seem to give a damn though waiting for Teri to stop posing "What you drinking baby?"

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She leans in close to Will, her face set just above his shoulder with a soft murmer "Is everything alright? Do you want to get out of here?"

Teri Jensen: I'm not sure yet. *Looking around before flashing him a flawless smile*

William Halloran: He finishes off his glass, nodding slightly. "Fucker's only gonna try an' start a fight." He says it, perhaps, louder then he intends...several shots and half a bottle of Jack will do that, after all. "He got lucky las' time. Ain't gonna give him first shot next time. Fuckin' ass."

Spitfire: His eyes eventually fall on Will. A smirk of his lips but he doesn't chide the man, or even give him a taunt. He puts his arm around Teri and stomps to the bar, the barman watching with anticipation and a bit of confusion.

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She kisses the top of his head again before backing away. Big man's gotta have room to rise afterall. She takes up her glass and downs the rest of her vodka.

Teri Jensen: *Strolling along, still surveying the room*

William Halloran: Hey. Wait a minute. She had problems with him... "Wait here. Don' want him to try nothin' and hurt ya." Already protective of the strange young girl who's blind enough to call him beautiful. He stands up, a bit quicker then he might otherwise, and starts to head toward the bar.

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She gives a confused look and meanders behind william. "No one's going to hurt me.." She carries the empty glass to the bar.

William Halloran: He stops right in behind Spitfire, looming over him with a glare. A giant finger comes down to tap on his shoulder. "You." That's an accusation, right there.

Spitfire: He stops at the bar leaning on it looking to Teri "So then baby, what the..." As he feels the finger, he smirks turning around and leans with his back against the bar arms crossing "If it isn't one half of the tag champions, Hey Willy..." He seems to have no fear for the giant man

William Halloran: "Shut up, you." He glares down at the punk. "Now, speak up. Smithy. You seen 'er?"

Teri Jensen: *She turns around, eyeing both of them coolly*

Brigitte Clara Deleon: Brigitte lays a gentle hand to Will's shoulder with a soft frown. Just to let him know she's there. She looks past the large man to Spitfire, a hopeful glance.

Spitfire: "One things here Will. First, you don't walk up to me and demand shit, you got that!"

William Halloran: "Fuck you. Start talkin'. She been missin' for a week, an' I know you had problems with 'er. So you better start fuckin' spillin'."

Brigitte Clara Deleon: Her eyes sadden, watching the two. "William.. please.. you've had a bit to drink.. Can't we all just sit down at the table and talk about this?"

Teri Jensen: Now, that's hardly civilized. *Voice like honey, she reaches out to put a hand on the same arm that Brigitte's hand is on* Let's go find a table and play nice now, no?

Spitfire: He stands straight now, fists clenching. "You have some fuckign nerves big man, ain't my problem you lost your woman, now get the fuck out of my face or I'll put you down...AGAIN ((Man & Intim coming up))

Spitfire: d10: Man & Intim: 9,7,2,10,

William Halloran: d10: WP: 7,9,9,6,

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She gives a soft smile to Teri. At least she had the right idea.

Teri Jensen: Spitfire.... *Quietly, leaning in to nuzzle his neck*

William Halloran: Not impressed in the slightest. Anger's carrying him along, and he's to the point of seeing red. "If ya ain't answerin', Spit for brains, it's 'cause ya got somethin' to hide." Only the hands on his arm that's stopping him from aggressing right now. But he's not, and that's something.

Teri Jensen: *She looks at the woman, smile flawless again, gesturing with her free hand to the back of the club* Shall we?

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She nods and leans up with a dainty smile to the tender "Another Skyy, love."

Spitfire: "You know what Will, I don't have to tell squat to you, if you'd have asked me if I had any brothers or sisters I still wouldn't tell you jack shit, and you know why, cos it is none of your damn fucking business, and I say what I like when I like, you got a problem with that, fine, throw that punch, and sure your fucking career will sky rocket when tag team champion starts bar room braw three sheets to the fucking wind." He smirks looking to Teri then back to Will, well the women have gone, is he still going to play?

Brigitte Clara Deleon: Brigitte clasps a delicate hand around her glass and lingers back toward will. She lays her free hand to his waist, trying to get him to move back in the direction of the table.

William Halloran: "You obviously don' know shit 'bout wrestlin'. Bar-room brawls elevate careers. An' it IS my fuckin' business, ya dumb shit. Five seconds, or I throw yer ass out the bar an' start beatin' ya. Wouldn't wanna cause the bartender no problems." He looks like he damn well means it, too.

Teri Jensen: Baby... *Quietly* Not here.

Spitfire: He looks over at Teri, and frowns the looks back to Will "You heard the lady Willy, fuck off and I won't embarass your ass! ((BP Dex))

William Halloran: "4." A stony glare shot to him.

Spitfire: "2" He stands straight ((BP Sten))

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She frowns, wrapping a dainty arm around will's waist. "William.. please.. don't.."

Teri Jensen: Gentlemen... This isn't the place.

William Halloran: The ladies manage to convince him to at least phrase it better. "Last chance. Ya gonna tell me what I wanna know, an' we can not do this, or are we doin' this?"

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She casts a pleading look to Spitfire, adorning a pretty smile. Innocent. "Please, love.. he's just worried about his friend. She's very dear to him. If you know anything.. just tell him. Please?"

Brigitte Clara Deleon: d10: man+emp: 5,1,7,2,1,5,

William Halloran: ((*Thuds*))

Brigitte Clara Deleon: (Ooo.. thank lucifer for merits. one sux.)

William Halloran: ((Oh, yeah, huh. *Whew*))

Spitfire: ((What is the resist to that again?))

William Halloran: ((WP))

Brigitte Clara Deleon: (wp, i believe)

Spitfire: d10: Willpower: 7,4,6,10,8,6,7,

William Halloran: ((Dayum.))

Brigitte Clara Deleon: (tehe)

Teri Jensen: ((woo.))

Spitfire: ((Wow))

Spitfire: He stares at V and ignores her looking to Will the to Teri and back to Will "To late Will, you can either sober up and try another fucking day, or we can go now, your fucking call!"

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She frowns. Damnit.. Silly mortal.. she was talking. She runs a hand up will's back, hoping he'll just walk away.

William Halloran: His fucking call, and he makes it, shooting his hand out for Spitfire's throat, frustration and anger having the man near tears. ((Init? *S*))

Brigitte Clara Deleon: d10: init: 6,

Spitfire: d10: Init: 7,

Brigitte Clara Deleon: (12)

Spitfire: ((13))

Teri Jensen: d10: init: 5,

William Halloran: d10: Init plus three: 3,

William Halloran: ((Alcohol inhibition included in that roll already. So 6.))

Teri Jensen: ((10))

William Halloran: ((So, StreamLined Combat: Declare Order is Will, Teri, Brigette, and Spitfire. Will's declaration already made; rolling now.))

Brigitte Clara Deleon: (would brig have had enough to be inhibited, you say? she's had two, third in hand)

William Halloran: d10: Dex+Brawl (WP): 2,6,1,7,

William Halloran: ((No, that's not enough.))

Spitfire: ((He be taking it as such))

Brigitte Clara Deleon: (didn't think so.)

Teri Jensen: *Hand shooting out to try to catch Will's wrist*

William Halloran: ((Gaah, I was just reminded that a hold is STRENGTH+BRawl. Two more dice to roll.))

William Halloran: d10: Hold: 6,8,

Spitfire: ((*chuckles* NP Rav))

Brigitte Clara Deleon: Brigitte takes a slow step back, frowning and hugging her skyy to her chest. "Boys, stop this, please. Just.. everyone calm down." (Carousing, rolling charisma+empathy, diff 4)

Brigitte Clara Deleon: (or diff three if angelic gaze comes into play)

Brigitte Clara Deleon: d10: : 6,9,2,10,5,9,

William Halloran: ((Strength+Brawl to hold Will so he can't grab Spitfire, Teri. Your succ take his away, like normal.))

Teri Jensen: d10: dex, brawl: 9,5,3,

Teri Jensen: ((okay. will reroll))

Teri Jensen: d10: str, brawl: 9,2,7,

William Halloran: ((If it's the same die pool, just use the first roll, Teri. *S* Will go with the second for this one.))

Spitfire: Spitfire is letting him grab him, after this it is all self defense. A grin on his lips

William Halloran: RECAP: Spitfire just stands there, and while Teri tries to stop him, William wraps that large hand around Spitfire's throat while Brigette tries to calm them down. ((Rolling WP for Will on the Carousing now.))

William Halloran: d10: WP: 1,3,6,7,

Spitfire: d10: Willpower: 4,5,4,1,8,8,10,

William Halloran: ((New Round, if anyone's acting)) He pauses as Brigette's words hit him, striking a chord inside. He turns to look at her, eyes wavering. Desperate and needing to know SOMETHING.

William Halloran: And his hand loosens on Spitfire's throat, too.

William Halloran: ((Bunny? Your action....))

Teri Jensen: ((gaah. sorry. she's not doing anything this round))

Brigitte Clara Deleon: Brigitte slips in front of william with her back trustingly turned to spitfire. She lays a gentle hand on the arm attatched to the tiny punkish man, trying to get Will to let go entirely. "It's alright, love.. We'll find her."

Spitfire: He doesn't say anything or do anything, Brigitte's words and passion stalling him also, but if Will doesn't back off he will finish this. But at the moment he is still somehow by her words not compelled to send this guy to hospital, and well HE did know something but that would just bring up more questions.

William Halloran: He lets go with a shuddering sigh, nearly sobbing, and turns away from the trio. He heads back to his table. Useless. Just fucking useless.

Teri Jensen: *Quietly* Baby? You want to get out of here?

Spitfire: He watches the Giant walk away then looks to Teri, she can tell he doesn't want to back down...and well he technically hasn't, that will do for now "Lets blow this fucking joint baby, we'll drink else where."

Brigitte Clara Deleon: Brigitte watches Will walk off with a concerned frown. She looks over her shoulder to spitfire before turning around to the pair. Speaking softly. "You know something, love. Don't you?" A sad look to the man. "Please.. anything I can tell him will make him feel better. He doesn't want to start anything.. he just wants to know."

William Halloran: He slumps down in his seat, burying his head in his hands.

Brigitte Clara Deleon: d10: man+emp: 8,6,3,2,7,1,

Brigitte Clara Deleon: (gah, i've got to start putting out for the roller. 3 sux @ diff 3.)

Spitfire: d10: Willpower: 4,6,2,4,8,10,10,

Spitfire: He doesn't even respond to Brigitte as his arm moves around Teri "Go see to the giant, V." And begins to walk out

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She gives a pained squint to spitfire in passing. "Uncaring little prick.."

Brigitte Clara Deleon: d10: Conscience : 10,

William Halloran: He's not moving much, elbows on the table, face in his hands. A little shaking of the shoulders, nothing more.

Spitfire: He glares at Brigitte but holds his temper in check...for now, Teri wanted to go, they go "You don't know shit about me or what I know Nosy bitch!" And flicks her a finger as he walks out

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She gives a hurt look to the floor of the bar, running a hand up her fair cheek. Now that was just mean.. She keeps a man five times his size from plummeling him.. and he gives her the finger? New Yorkers.. She stands there with a helpless look on her face and takes a slow sip from her vodka.

Teri Jensen: *She looks over her shoulder to study the woman's face, taking careful note should they meet again*

Brigitte Clara Deleon: After a bit, Brigitte meanders back over to the table with an apologetic gaze. She lays a gentle hand to Will's shoulders. Comforting the only way she knows how.

William Halloran: "Sorry," he mumbles, the word almost intelligible through his hands and a sniffling sound. It's not entirely clear whether it's to Brigette or not.

Teri Jensen: *She waits until they get out onto the sidewalk again* Who is he to the woman?

Spitfire: He walks out with Teri and starts stomping down the street, teeth gritted together.

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She shakes her head, wrapping an arm around the man from behind. "Let's get out of here, okay? There's a hottub at the hotel I'm staying at.. Might make you feel a bit better."

Spitfire: "I have no idea, the bitch has been talking to him, Gunther mentioned they may have been close, but any information I would have given out would only get him closer to the truth, and that would get him fucking deaded, I just saved his life ignorant fuck!"

Teri Jensen: I know, baby. *Sliding her arm around his waist* That was good. Civilized.

William Halloran: He looks up at her, ruined face streaked wet, and purses his lips. "Umm. Yeah, I...sure." A half-hearted nod. "I guess."

William Halloran: "Gotta find out, though." He sniffs, wiping at his face. "Gotta find 'er, somehow."

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She takes back the rest of the vodka and sets it to the table, offering him a hand more out of habit than thinking she can do much to help the man up. "It'll be alright, William. I'm here for you."

Spitfire: He stops stomping as she slides her arm around him. "Trust me, him getting beat up by me is a hell of a lot less painful than him finding out the truth and either getting bonded or killed, besides, he was asking for a fucking pounding, that bitch was after my ass, she could have been after your ass, she knew to damn much and I hope for his sake she kept him out the loop!"

Spitfire: ((brb))

William Halloran: He nods and takes her hand, reaching out to swipe the bottle of Jack with his other. "Thanks," he says dully, rising to his feet to follow the girl out.

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She leads him out, hips in full swing. She gives his hand a tiny comforting squeeze and leads him to the shiny silver bmw.

William Halloran: He's staggering just a little bit, and blinks at the BMW. Definitely not a hooker. He lumbers along to the car, moving to the driver's side, back seat. "Ummm...ain't gonna fit in the front." A little shrug, eyes cast down.

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She smiles to him and climbs into the driver seat. "You can sit wherever you like. It doesn't bother me." She turns the key filling the area with an annoyingly loud industrial mix.

Spitfire: ((back))

William Halloran: He squishes into the back seat, pretty much taking up the whole damn thing. His body leans to the side, so as not to block Brigette's view...the music makes him wince.

Teri Jensen: If he doesn't know that she's dead, I'd say he's pretty out of the loop.

Brigitte Clara Deleon: Brigitte leans over to turn down the music.. Drinking and all.. she doesn't want will to puke in her backseat. She zips off toward the hotel.

Spitfire: "And thats the way it should stay, I left it in Gunthers hands, this is his one to tidy up."

William Halloran: No, he doesn't puke...the man can hold his alcohol. Years of heavy practice.

Brigitte Clara Deleon: (move to residence? business? open?)

William Halloran: ((Residence works.))

Brigitte Clara Deleon: (*nods* thanks for fun times, guys! *poofs*)

William Halloran: ((Thanks, you too! *Hugs and jets*))

William Halloran: ((you two))

HOTEL ROOM

Brigitte Clara Deleon: Brigitte pulls into the hotel lot and cuts the engine. She steps from the car and walks over to open Will's door for him.

William Halloran: He pulls himself out of the car, slowly. There's been a bit of drinking along the way--he did have that bottle of Jack with him--but the man is good. No spilling in the car, or on him. Careful that way.

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She wraps her arm around his waist, leaning gently against the man walking him to the entrance. "I'm proud of you, William. It takes a big man to walk away like that."

William Halloran: "I shoulda..." He shrugs a little bit, letting her guide him along. "Shoulda done som'thin'. Gotta fuckin' try som'thin'. I gotta know, y'know? Gotta help..."

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She nods, opening the door and guiding him through the lobby. The man behind the counter smirks, quite used to brigitte bringing in odd types. She ignores it. "We'll find something, william. You should talk to your friend about it. Certainly they'll be more cooperative than HE was.."

William Halloran: "Yeh...yeh." He nods a little bit, not even noticing the concierge. Completely relying on her to guide him.

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She gives his waist a tiny squeeze, laying her head on his broad shoulder. The young girl leads him past the elevators down a hall of rooms, through to the pool area. She opens the wooden gate leading to the hottubs. Being this time of evening it's nearly deserted. No need for suits, she thinks. Maybe he's drunk enough not to be too skittish.

William Halloran: He follows her along into the hot tub area, looking around. Oh, yeah, hot tub. He moves to the benches, dropping down on them, and starts to fumble with the laces of his boots.

Brigitte Clara Deleon: Brigitte closes the gate, looking around to make sure no one's watching. She slips off her sandals with a graceful step and pulls off her cardigan, laying it next to will on the bench.

William Halloran: It takes a lot of effort, but the boots get unlaced and pulled off. He slips the leather jacket off, and his T-Shirt, fumbling a little again, getting it caught over his head. This one has some scars, likely from his life in the squared circle of wrestling. Some burn marks, cuts, and the like. Also some tattoos, that look like prison tats.

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She slips out of the only other article on her, a long white sundress. Standing over the hottub she dips a dainty toe in the water, checking to see how hot it is unnecessarily.

William Halloran: He fumbles once more, this time with his pants, and finally gets them off, just down to his boxers. He rises and moves toward the hot tub, a little unsteady, but still mostly stable for now.

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She offers a delicate hand to help him into the tub, still standing to make sure he doesn't fall.. not that she could help if he did.

William Halloran: He steps down into the tub, wincing just a little at the temperature...but slowly, he settles in, sitting down, and starts to relax with a deep sigh.

Brigitte Clara Deleon: Brigitte slips into the water next to the man, curling in with an arm draped across his chest. She looks up to the dent in his face with a thoughtful glance.

William Halloran: He leans back and sighs, looking down at the water...just a little tense. Her glance does get his attention, and he looks over to her. "Hmmm?"

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She curls around him, leaning her head against his chest with a glance back down to the water. "Was just looking.. at your scars." She gives a small pause "If you could be rid of them, would you?"

William Halloran: He shrugs a little bit. "I dunno. On one hand...I guess I hate 'em. But they...they taught me an 'mportant lessen, y'know? An' the ones on m'body...they're kinda like batches o' honor." Another shrug. "Mebbe. Mebbe not."

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She reaches up to touch the dent in his face.. mostly to see if he'll let her. "And this one?"

William Halloran: He goes still, letting her touch it. Barely even breathing...only enough so he can answer, after a long moment. "'at's the mebbe, mebbe not one. The one 'at taught me an 'pmortant lessen."

Brigitte Clara Deleon: "What lesson is that?"

William Halloran: "Don' loose yer temper." Granted, current events are trying that particular lesson. He shuts his eyes, face slack, breathing a little erratic. "An' don' be like mah father."

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She nods, curling the arm back around his waist. "If you could change anything.. about yourself.. what would it be?"

William Halloran: "Anythin' at all?" He frowns, thinking. His size... his face... his drinking. His guilt. So much of it...he frowns a little. "I would wanna be able t'protect people better. Not let 'em..." He blinks a couple times at forming tears, the alcohol and discussing having started to open the floodgate. "Not let the people I love get hurt..."

Brigitte Clara Deleon: She gives a soft smile, squeezing his waist with a gentle hand. "Watch it, William.. a girl could fall hard for a guy like you."