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What'll it Be; OPEN
Topic Started: Aug 25 2011, 04:29 PM (471 Views)
Bradley Jones
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11:07 pm, August 17th

After having finished his shift at the restaurant, Bradley had gone home to shower and change into something a little more casual. Putting on a pair of his straight-legged jeans with the torn knees, he realized a small post-it note was on the fridge in the kitchen. He zipped up and buttoned his pants as he walked into the small kitchen and leaned against the stove so he could read the note. “Gone out with friends. Will be back before dawn. Goodnight, love you, hearts…” Bradley read to himself out loud, and smiled at the fact that she actually wrote out the word “hearts” instead of drawing a little picture of one. He soon made his way into his room, where he would slip into a tight, thin (almost see-through), cotton, long-sleeved shirt. As he tied up his dreads, he wondered where Chloe had gone. It was Thursday night, so she probably wasn’t at a club, meaning she would most likely be at a pub. Thankfully, Brad knew most of the less popular bars in town, so chances were he’d pick a place where his sister wasn’t. That way she wouldn’t complain that he was following her to make sure she was safe, and in the process, “cramping her style”.

Brad walked to the apartment’s entrance and took his leather jacket off the coat hanger. He slipped his arms into the fitted sleeves and then adjusted it before putting on a pair of his favorite loafers. After fixing up the collar of his jacket one last time, he exited the apartment, closed the door behind him, and locked it.

Walking down the street, Brad took in the refreshing night air. He could have probably done without the leather jacket, but the collar of his shirt was low-cut, kind of like a v-neck, but with buttons, and he wasn’t wearing any socks either. Perhaps the main reason for him not worrying about getting too hot was the fact that it hadn’t been that long since he had moved here from Jamaica, so naturally, he felt a little colder than the rest of Brooklyn’s natives.

Twenty minutes later, Brad would find himself at the doors of a place called “Vinyl”. It was a small place stuck between two other buildings, but what it lacked for in size, it made up for in flavor. It was furnished with low sofas that were as comfortable as they looked and had equally low wooden tables placed in front of them, and the lights were all covered with some kind of red material, creating a very warm atmosphere. Posters of legendary rock bands and singers decorated the walls along with countless vinyl, probably the actual records of the artists being displayed. The music they played varied from night to night. They could have anything from hip-hop to trance. Thankfully, tonight was their classic rock night. There was a door next to the bar that led to a small area outside in the back. This outdoors square was just a space between buildings, connected to a narrow alleyway that led out into the street, and was primarily used for smokers. However, even though Brad didn’t smoke cigarettes, he especially liked going out into that spot to enjoy his drink, the night air, and the stars, if he was lucky enough. The ground was made in cobblestone and had random patches of grass sprouting through. Old-school sofa-chairs and tables had been placed about for those who wanted to sit.

Taking a seat on one of the stools at the bar, Brad rested his arms onto the counter. “What’ll it be, boss?” the barman asked, not even needing to move closer since the bar was almost literally just the corner of the room. “Bourbon on the rocks, please.” Brad replied as he reached for his wallet. It was a calm night, only a few dozen people inside the place, maybe a few more outside smoking. Brad didn’t mind, in fact, he preferred the quiet chatter and laughter of people to the yelling and drunk shouting that usually went on in clubs and packed bars or pubs. The bartender gently placed Brad’s glass on top of a napkin in front of him, and Brad placed his payment in the man’s hand. “Why thank you.” The barman said with a wink, and Brad returned a friendly nod as he picked up the glass.

Slowly turning on his stool, Brad was now leaning on his side. He took a sip of his drink, the banging of the ice cubes music to his ears. His eyes drifted about as he engaged in what most commonly refer to as “people watching”.
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Mitchell
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It was late, and Mitch had to get up early the next morning, and he wasn't at all sure the buses were even still running back home. This little outing had not been the cleverest thing he'd ever done, he decided. But he couldn't spend another evening in Mutant Town, not with things the way they were.

It had been bad enough after what the press was calling the Night of Broken Glass, when the Purifiers had bombed houses, schools, anything belonging to mutant families. It had gotten infinitely worse after they'd attacked X-Corps. But when the news had gotten out that Havoc, the leader of X-Factor, had also been the Horseman of the Apocalypse named War back in '09... that he was responsible for over a billion deaths... well, Mitch just didn't want to think about it. Mutant Town had become something he'd never expected to see, at least not Stateside.

Mitch had never actually met Havoc, but he seemed like a good guy, and he did a lot of good around Mutant Town, and Mitch owed X-Factor drinks for pretty much the rest of his life after they'd played cavalry during the Purifiers attack on X-Corps. So at first, he'd assumed it was some kind of Internet hoax in incredibly poor taste. But no, it turned out that the footage was legit, although the most knowledgable-sounding sources of the rumors ricocheting around Mutant Town had it that the man had been mind-controlled. Which Mitch was perfectly willing to believe; he'd met quite a few people over the last few months who'd been turned into mind-controlled killers during that week.

So, on balance, Mitch was prepared to believe that Havoc wasn't responsible, and he'd argued that point more than once. But it was like pissing in the wind; nobody was listening. And he wasn't sure he could blame them. Mitch had spent most of Apocalypse in his mom's guest room and doing emergency damage control in New Jersey like some kind of cut-rate superhero. He hadn't been part of the mutant community back then, and hadn't lost anyone close to him... his sister-in-law had lost an arm, trying to get to an overloaded hospital, but that was it. He'd been lucky. But even so, it had been a traumatic experience; worse than the Towers falling, worse than anything he'd experienced with the Marines. He couldn't imagine what it had been like for the people caught in the middle of it.

The final straw -- no, scratch that, the latest straw -- had been getting the news that Benita hadn't made it. It wasn't exactly surprising: it had been a miracle that she'd survived to reach the hospital after that Purifier grenade had chewed up her insides, and she'd been in and out of surgery ever since. And it wasn't like she'd changed the body count much; what's one body more or less when the death toll was already in three digits? Still, when Mitch had gotten the news, he'd blown his stack; he'd walked out of his apartment and just kept walking. Eventually he'd caught a bus; he wasn't sure where it was going, but as long as it wasn't Mutant Town that was fine with him. He'd ended up in a small bar called "Vinyl," he wasn't sure exactly where. It really didn't matter. He was on his third shot of tequila of the night and had barely gotten started.

The place wasn't crowded, and Mitch looked up when a new arrival came in shortly before midnight. Hot, was his first thought, which he shook off with a laugh -- wouldn't that be the ultimate irony, to survive all the anti-mutant crap back home, then get his teeth kicked in by hitting on the wrong straight guy? It was just the adrenalin shock talking, he knew. It had been like that all the time in the Corps, too; something about getting shot at made people horny. Still, it was true: tall, dark and handsome, to coin a cliche, with some impressive ink. And probably straight, he reminded himself.

Still, he was tired of drinking alone; he could use some company. He raised his shot glass in a friendly salute before finishing it off, then ordered a beer from the bartender. "Nice place," he said, gesturing to take in the bar. "Seems these days every third local bar gets taken over by some generic trendy chain thing. It's good to see a place with character."
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Shard
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Shard was in town visiting her dear grandmother for the weekend. The lab in Salem had given all the employees a four day weekend because they all worked so hard even after the X-corps events that left everyone devastated in the office. Some were happy but Shard preferred to just enjoy the time off that she did get. Instead of spending her four day weekend cooped up in the Institute where she hardly knew anyone, she decided to spend the spare time with her grandmother, who she loved dearly. Unfortunately, at this time of night, a grandmother was not much company especially one that was spitting out snores as she watched tv.

It was on that note that Shard decided to go out to a local bar. Maybe meet some people, make some connections, and just have an all out good time. As she pulled a sheet over her sleeping grandmother, Shard went up to her old room and pulled her suitcase out of the closet she stored it in. Her grandmother hated for her house to be a mess so Shard made sure that she was always mindful of how she kept up her room while she was there.

Scouting through the clothes that she brought, she didn't have anything really appropriate or high class to put on, so she decided to leave on what she had. A pair of dark skinny jeans, crimson pumps, white cardigan, and black tank top. She was not terribly casual but she was not all that formal either. Ah well. One day where Shard would not look her best out of never. She could deal with the odds.

She took a look in the mirror and approved herself for going on. Kissing her grandmother's forehead and a grabbing her clutch purse, Shard was out to Vinly. One of the only places she knew of that she could go there looking the way she did. She use to go there when she was in high school with Fitzroy's boys to handle some business that she didn't usually like to remember.

Upon entering the bar, she kind of scoped the crowd and allowed them to kind of dictate her next move. No one was really dancing and most of them were talking in clicks. She hated how people were so closed minded about meeting new people and shut themselves off from the world. Oh well! She took a seat at the bar where she ordered a Sprite with lemon for the moment and paid the bartender for the drink.

'Aye girl. You gone let me buy you a real drink,' an anonymously arrogant dude asked her.

She simply ignored the arrogant foul and took a few sips of her drink. She preferred to keep the night moving.

'Hey girl! I'm talkin to you,' he pushed grabbing her arm firmly in his hand.

"You got a milli-second to take your hand off of me before I break yo ass in front of all your friends!" she asserted to the boy and she pulled her arm from his hand.

The music was so loud that you probably couldn't hear or tell that Shard was in a hostile situation. Really, it wan not a problem. A simple guy just can not take a hint. The usual. Removing herself from the situation, she picked up her drink and walked to the other side of the bar where two men stuck out like a sore thumb sat. One was a red headed guy and another was a guy with dreads. She hadn't heard anything that they were talking about but she just continued to sip her Sprite with lemon in peace next to the unique men. The previous guy still hovering over Shard a bit even after she moved. She rolled her eyes and prayed to God that he would leave her alone before she blasted a hole in his chest.
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Bradley Jones
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As Bradley took another sip from his drink, he heard someone near him say something. Pulling a 180, Brad met eyes with a redhead who was also sitting at the bar. His first instinct was to apologize, not because he didn’t hear what the young man said, but because he felt rude for turning his back to someone. However, he didn’t want to start the conversation with a “sorry”, and accidentally make this friendly stranger repeat himself. Brad smiled sincerely as he returned the gesture and also raised his own glass in salute. After another quick sip, Brad rested the glass down onto the napkin, and somehow, the soothing jingle of the ice cubes banging pierced through the loud music and background chatter.

“Yeah, it is.” Brad replied. He watched as the redhead looked around at the establishment in an inviting manner, but Brad did not indulge him. Truth was he knew this place inside out after having performed a few musical gigs here. “It’s reassuring to meet someone young who can appreciate a place with a little flavor.” Bradley said to Mitchell. “And I know exactly what you mean. My baby sister brought me to one of these nightclubs she always goes to. The place was just flashing lights and really loud music, if you can call it that…” Brad said with a smile and playful shake of his head, referring to the songs that are basically one recurring verse with the same beat looping endlessly.

Brad began raising his glass to his lips for another sample of his Bourbon, but stopped when in the corner of his eye he noticed a figure moving towards the bar. His dark eyes shifted in order to get a better look at this woman who had stopped nearby Mitchell and himself. Without having ever taken a sip, Brad slowly began to lower his glass back down as he fixated upon this blissful vision. Worried that he was being indirectly disrespectful again, Bradley quickly brought himself back down to Earth and into his conversation with the intriguing redhead.
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Mitchell
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Mitch smiled faintly at the man's reply. "I know what you mean, man. Some places the decor just seems designed to keep you from noticing how much they water down the drinks." With remarkably lousy timing, the bartender chose just that moment to return with Mitch's beer, and scowled at him. "Not this place, though," he added in an attempt to recover, but the man was no longer listening. He shrugged his shoulders and returned his attention to his new drinking buddy with a self-deprecating chuckle. "I'm Mitch, by the way. I take it you're a regular?"

As Mitch paid for his drink, a young woman entered and had a brief exchange with another patron. The music was too loud to make out what they said, though judging from the man's expression it wasn't exactly a friendly chat. Still, she seemed to extricate herself relatively painlessly, and came over to join Mitch and his new friend, who had clearly noticed her as well.

Mitch smirked and sipped his beer before realizing the guy who'd greeted the woman had not taken the hint, and was now hovering over her. Seriously?, he thought bemusedly, are we seriously going to have trouble here? He considered giving a headsup to whoever served as bouncer in this place, but on second thought decided not to. It had been a very long month, and he probably hadn't seen the worst of it, and he was feeling angry and helpless and wanted nothing so much as to pound someone who deserved it into the sand.

If this goon wanted to start trouble, Mitch decided, he was prepared to finish it.

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Shard
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Shard continued to take a sip of her Sprite with lemon while ignoring the man, who she could easily handle with the assistance of her powers. She didn't care that she was basically a mutant PR tool and whatever she reflected her whole race. She saw herself as an individual and you can't group individuals together each of them are going to be different. That's not the way that flatscans saw mutants but that is what she thought of herself and that's what mattered to her.

'Oh... I remember you. You Fitzroy's bitch. You really took care of yourself, huh,' he said to her.

No one would ever call her Fitzroy's girl again... ever. She really didn't want to slap the man especially not with her augmented strength but he was really getting to her emotions. It's almost as if he knew exactly what buttons to press. It was so out of character of her to want to act on her emotions like that but it was something about mentioning Fitzroy's name that made her blood boil every time. Unknown to her, her eyes were glowing white with no sight of pupils until she looked into her glass. She immediately shut her eyes and took some deep breaths to calm her down.

All of her memories of her past were now in the forefront of her mind, which didn't help the situation. She had hoped no one saw her eyes. She took her drink and peaked open her eyes a bit then spoke to the man saying,

"You must really want me to sock you."

She didn't usually give this many warnings, but, seeing as they were in a public place, she couldn't very just use her powers and walk away. There were people here and the Purifiers were out to give mutants a terrible name. There was no sense is fueling that fire regardless of how she personally felt about herself being an individual.

I am so fucked right now, she thought as her natural eye color returned to normal.

She didn't know what to do or how the best way to react was. The man was obviously too drunk to just be an adult and walk away. He was too drunk to take a hint from her. Shard, for the first time, was at a complete loss other than to just leave. Shard waved for the bartender and asked for the check. This was a lose-lose situation and she felt that she couldn't beat the odds.
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Bishop
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After a long day at work, Lucas Bishop liked nothing more than finding a bar where he could sit, have good food and alcohol, and maybe catch the game. Tonight was no different and the roar of his Chevy sounded down the streets as he prowled to find a good pub; eventually he found an out of the way place called Vinyl...it was worth a try. He found a place to park and pulled his leather jacket out of the backseat; the familiar sound of the groaning material filled his ears as he put it on over the muscle shirt with the SHIELD logo on the chest.

Getting out, he cracked his neck and walked into the bar, which surprisingly had a nice atmosphere to it. When he got inside he realized that he should drain the lizard before any drinking got started; easier to fill up an empty tank or something like that. Heading directly for the bathroom was the reason he didn't notice the dreadhead, or the redhead, or the drunk guy messing with the blond who just so happened to be his sister; what stopped him in his tracks were the words "Fitzroy's bitch."

He turned on his heel and saw Sharmaine, and the guy messing with her; his little sister's eyes were awash with her energy, and her tormentor was in more danger than he realized....not just from Shard either. Walking over, he tapped the guy rather hard on the shoulder to get his attention. "I suggest you apologize for calling her a bitch, and you leave." The man shrugged his arm and didn't even turn to face Lucas; "Oh yeah, says who?" Putting his hand on his shoulder again, he whipped him around and grabbed the collar of his shirt, using one arm to lift him a clean foot and a half off the floor. "Says her brother."
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Bradley Jones
Unregistered

Brad chuckled when the barman tried countering Mitchell’s comment. “Nice to meet you, Mitch. Brad.” He introduced himself to the redhead as he presented his hand for a polite shake. “I wouldn’t say I’m a regular, but I have been here a few times to put on a show with some buddies.” Bradley was going to ask if Mitch came here often, and if maybe he lived nearby, but he noticed his new acquaintance seemed to be a little distracted. Ironically, he was also preoccupied with the woman that had approached the bar just moments ago. To be more precise, he seemed to be more concerned with a man pestering the beautiful woman.

Turning to get a better view of the whole situation when Bradley clearly heard the word “bitch”, the first thing he noticed was the woman’s eyes. As if she wasn’t already a sight to behold, now it appeared as though her eyes had been replaced with two bright stars. “Hey… did you slip something into my drink,” Bradley whispered to Mitchell in a joking tone, “Or did her eyes really just light up like that…?” he asked as the girl began taking deep breaths in attempted to calm herself, it seemed.

When she said she was going to hit the drunkard if he persisted, Bradley felt like he could no longer sit on the sidelines. He rested his glass on the counter, not minding to place it back onto the napkin, and rose from the stool. Someone beat Bradley to the punch, however. (This must be the boyfriend…) Bradley assumed as he observed the newcomer attempting to force an apology out of the drunken buffoon. “Shit…” Brad muttered to himself in pure awe and amazement as he was witness to one man lifting another up off the ground, like in cartoons. Despite the fact that Bishop was basically a tower of muscle, it still seemed like a feat that should prove impossible for a “normal” person.

(Her brother…) Brad repeated the words in his mind. The glowing eyes and now this… he would have to force himself to not connect the dots. After all, he and his own sister were also mutants. “Hey! Come on guys, if you’re going to go at it, take it outside!” the bartender shouted from a safe distance behind his counter. Looking around, Bradley could see that Bishop’s stunt had attracted quite some attention.

“Look, this clown probably does deserve a good beatin’, but this isn’t the place, man. Let him down.” Bradley tried reasoning with Bishop. The last thing he wanted was to use his power on others, but if the situation continued to escalate he might have no other choice.
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Mitchell
Unregistered

The goon said something about 'Fitzroy's bitch' that Mitch didn't understand, and then the woman's eyes began to glow. Brad noticed it as well, though at least he didn't freak out about it. "Yeah, I think so," he whispered back. "The eyes, I mean, not the drink." Mitch was very close to standing up and leaving the bar at that point. Not that he had anything against glowing eyes, but he'd left Red Hook precisely to get away from the whole mutant thing for a while, and here it seemed to have followed him.

Still, she seemed to be making an effort to rein in whatever it was that her glowing eyes indicated, and started to pay her bill, and Mitch wasn't entirely on board with that either; it was the guy who was being an ass. He'd just about made up his mind to intervene when someone beat him to it, a huge black man in a leather jacket who clearly did not need any help.

Her brother, eh? That put his strength in a whole different light, and Mitch looked at the guy's eyes more closely, wondering if they glowed as well, and was taken aback by a letter M tattooed over his right eye. Man, that's hardcore... that had to hurt! Or... nah, that couldn't be natural, could it? It was a ridiculous question when he put it that way; in a world where men and women could sport glowing eyes, extra limbs, and functional wings, a letter-shaped birthmark wasn't even noteworthy. Still, he didn't think it likely.

Brad tried to talk the guy down, and Mitch decided he might as well help. "Yeah... maybe we all need to take a deep breath here and calm down. Bartender, a round for my three friends here, on me," he called, pointedly excepting the man being hoisted in the air. To him Mitch added "And maybe you could give us some room to drink it in peace, if Brother here puts you down, before somebody does something they'll regret?"
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Shard
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With her eyes closed, she reached into her purse for some cash that she had and waved it for the bartender to take. She reached into her purse for a pair of sleek sunglasses that she had gotten made at the Institute in the case that her emotions started to affect her eyes. It more clear than ever that it was time to go. The waiter took her money and she told him to keep the tip. She didn't care. She just wanted to leave. The name Fitzroy made her blood boil but shiver down her spine.

Like Batman, he came out of nowhere. Her brother walked in and she knew immediately that all hell was about to break loose. She had to stop this for escalating any further. There is only so much music can cover.

"Bishop, stop," she advised. Becoming more embarrassed, "It's over. Let him down and take me back home. I walked here so I can just jump into your car."

She noticed that her two bar neighbors had stood up in an attempt to stop this foolishness. She'd appreciated the two guys taking a stand then but it sure would have been a smudge better if they took action earlier. Again, she could handle the situation herself but, given the current events, her usually actions were strictly prohibited.

Damn, I just wish I didn't come here. she thought to herself.

She guy wiggled his legs as Bishop head him so high in the air with, what seemed to be, relative ease. He immediately though mutant but his second thought was run, which is what he will do when Bishop finally puts him down. Now able to see with her sunglasses on, Shard saw that one of her bar neighbors had bought the drinks. Her initial reactions was,

"I'm not sure that's such a good idea, Red. I... I'm not feeling all that well. I think I should just go somewhere with fresh air."

She tried to be polite but she did feel like she was ruining the vibe. The only way she felt she could fix it was to leave. She was out of her chair standing next to Bishop. She was going to try and block his attempts of brash brutality like before.
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Bishop
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He didn't care if he caused a scene, he didn't care if this guy pissed his pants, he didn't even care if he got kicked out of the bar; no one, but no one called his sister out of her name and got away with it. The scum with his feet dangling above the floor was no exception, and if not for the many comments from his sister and the other patrons, he would have had a fist shaped dent in his face for his troubles. The bartender was the first to speak up, and while he knew he couldn't stop what came next, he at least wanted it to be somewhere else.

"I got no intentions of walking all up and down this guy in your bar.....I wouldn't be able to pay for the repairs; if things go further than this, we'll head out." He swung the guy a bit to the right so he could get a good visual on the dreadhead talking to him. "Probably? There's no doubt he deserves a good beating; no doubt whatsoever." He didn't put him down and he didn't say anything about putting him down, because truthfully he liked him just where he was. The redhead spoke up next, and Lucas let out a short bark of a laugh. "Oh I'm perfectly calm, I'm cool as a cucumber....but there's a line I draw when someone calls my baby sister out of her name...he crossed it."

His own eyes flashed his signature purple as he glared at Mitch, then back to the no name pissant clutching futilely at his wrist. For every second he looked at him, the urge to layeth the smacketh down and deliver his righteous glowing hand into the man's face grew; his sister's voice calmed him down though. Sharmaine hadn't said anything at first, but she finally spoke up. He looked over at her and the anger melted, she always could break through his tough guy armor, and this time was no different. "You better thank my sister there, otherwise...... Just thank her and don't bother us again."

He released his vice grip and the man fell to the floor; he didn't pay attention to him after that. Putting an arm around his sister, he leaned down and planted a kiss on her temple to try and cheer her up. "Come on Shard, don't let that asshole ruin your night. This guy here offered us free drinks, and dad always said never turn down a free drink....in hindsight that wasn't such a good lesson to teach kids, but hey. We're here, may as well drink our problems away." Turning to the redhead and the dreadhead, he nodded in greeting. "I'm Bishop by the way, this is my sister Sharmaine."
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Bradley Jones
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“A round of what…?” the bartender asked in a low, almost frightened tone of voice. Mitch was still talking to the rest of them, so he probably wouldn’t have heard. Bradley turned to answer for the redhead, “Just get us four shots of tequila.” With a simple nod, the bartender was off, keeping a watchful eye on the situation as he slowly prepared the shots.

Bringing his attention back to the current predicament he was involved in, Bradley caught the last bits of Shard’s rejection of the drinks, stating that she just wanted to go out and get fresh air. (That’s a shame, I didn’t even get her name…) Brad thought to himself, and then shifted his attention back to Bishop, who was now acknowledging the rest of the group. Watching as Bishop finally released his hold on the man, Brad could almost instantly feel a shift in the atmosphere of the situation as gravity brought the man back down to the floor and onto his drunken ass. He watched silently to see what the man would do, and sincerely hoped that he would just get up, maybe dust himself off, apologize, and bolt out of the place as fast as humanly possible.

Perhaps to try and make up for causing a scene, Bishop attempted to coax his sister into staying and enjoying the drinks offered to them. (The drinks…) Bradley suddenly remembered. He turned to see the bartender waiting behind the four, filled shot glasses and a salt shaker. He had a funny look on his face that couldn’t really be described. It looked like he was trying to be patient, but only because he was forced to. Most probably because he feared that if he said something, he would be blasted into last week by the dark tower with an ‘M’ tattooed onto his face. “Thanks, man.” Bradley said as he proceeded to picking up two of the small glasses. Moving relatively slowly in order to make sure he didn’t drop the lemons resting on top of the shot glasses, and to prevent spilling any of the liquor, Brad made it just in time for introductions.

“Call me Brad,” he replied in a friendly tone as he handed one shot glass to Bishop, “Pleasure to meet you…” he continued as he handed the second one to Sharmaine.
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