15622/The people that you meet

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The people that you meet
Date of Scene: 23 September 2023
Location: McAnally's Pub
Synopsis: Harry met Satana at Mac's. They had an interesting exchange and actually started to get to know each other some.
Cast of Characters: Harry Dresden, Satana

Harry Dresden has posed:
Despite the common thought the detective never turns his back to a door, Harry is hunched over the counter and nursing one of the house home brews. Of course, the large mirror behind the bar and the anti magic protections make it a little easier to relax.

Behind the bar, Mac is cooking up steak sandwiches and taking care of customer drink orders and the like,"Three to go Mac." Harry amends his order,"The other two eat more than I do."
Satana has posed:
This place has power. Intriguing power. And the name ...

Her long-suffering driver in the exposed cockpit hears the tap of her claw-like fingernails on the glass that sits between the passenger compartment and him and smoothly pulls the Bugatti Royale that is the self-titled Queen of Hell's ride of choice over and parks it. Satana ponders a moment and decides her classic look is the one to go with: the flaming red hair, the amber eyes, the '70s pin-up body, and the far-too-tight purple catsuit with large patches torn out and the wide belt hanging off her waist with the enormous demon skull buckle.

Subtlety is her way.

Climbing out of her car, she speaks in the dialect of her part of Hell (Boston) to the driver (who is suspiciously bundled up in ways that make it impossible to determine who ... or what ... they are). "Wait for my return. I'll tell you if I'm going my own way."

She slithers, then, to the entrance of the pub, peering, making a few subtle hand gestures, at the door, admiring its defences.

"This could be hard to crack..." she mumbles to herself. "I foresee a research project."

Shrugging, she steps into the bar, not bothering to do the pause for the change of light; her eyes are more than capable of instantly adjusting. Instead she saunters to the bar, hips and shoulders moving in counterpoint, and slips into a seat.

"Whatever the speciality is," she says imperiously.
Harry Dresden has posed:
Eyes turn to watch her entrance as people at the tables all see her clearly. Harry raises his eyes to the mirror when he hears the door open. He takes a moment to study the new arrival and his brow raises a little. After that he looks back to the counter and Mac brings him a steak sandwich and another home brew.

Mac looks to her arrival and when she calls for the house speacialty he eyes her for a moment, then nods going back to the grill and setting a steak in place to cook. He returns with one of his home brews. The first thing she will notice, he doesn't keep the drinks cold. Room temperature.
Satana has posed:
Satana grabs the drink, turns a bit away from the bar and recrosses her legs (not actually Sharon Stoning the onlookers, to their likely disappointment), leaning back against the brass rail and starts drinking, regarding the clientel with pierching, analytical eyes that seem, undoubtely by some quirk of lighting (undoubtedly!) to have tiny flecks of Hellfire in the pupils. Those eyes, wind up, at the end of the sweep, to her nearly-neighbour at the bar, Harry, and pause. They flick down. They flick back up. One exceptionally long red eyebrow with almost horn-like mien where they grow out and up at the end, raises. Her head tilts.

"My," she purrs in a thrilling contralto that seems to insinuate itself into the ears and curl up, fuzzy, purring, and dangerous, around the hypothalamus, "aren't you the tall one."

The eyes flick to the pentacle pendant, then the bracelet, passing over the witty T-shirt, before reaching Harry's eyes again.

"And, I suspect, far more than you appear to be." She extends her hand, positioned knuckles-up, not vertically oriented, so not for a handshake. "Satana Hellstrom. Of the Boston Hellstroms."

Because she has to throw that in. It amuses her to let people think she's a spoiled human rich girl.
Harry Dresden has posed:
The sandwich has his attention first. Harry takes a bite of the food and doesn't pay the woman a lot of mind while she is looking around the room. Mac watches her with passive interest, but doesn't seem too concerned at the moment.

Harry takes a drink and sets the bottle down once more. Not always quick on the uptake, it's obvious when she talks about the tall one it has to be him. He turns his eyes her direction and gives her a once over as well, not meeting her gaze for more than a second or two.

Maybe the spoiled rich girl thing doesn't do it for him or maybe he is just not overly friendly right now, but he considers the hand and replies,"Harry Dresden of the Missouri Dresdens."

He finaly does take the hand and even manages to more or less kiss it almost gentleman like.
Satana has posed:
Her hand feels human. Soft. Having an undefinable scent that doesn't seem to be perfume. But either she's got a mild fever or there's something else at work: Satana is warmer than most to the touch.

Contact established, the "Boston Hellstrom", in a well-practiced move, slips out of her stool and slides into the one next to Harry.

"I don't believe I know that family, but to be fair I don't really know much beyond the north-eastern seaboard.

She's not above lying for fun. Like the sea is not above the clouds. Her eyes, however, are dancing with amusement. "But why do I get the sensation you're making fun of me?" she asks.

Busted. Though she doesn't seem to be upset.

"Mostly it's a conversation starter," she says of the pretentiousness. "People ask me politely about the Hellstroms, I say that really I'm a Hell Lord with a domain of my own, but that we annexed Boston a few years back so I'm technically ruler of Boston, one of the outer provinces of Hell. The other laughs nervously and fun is had by all."


"I do love a good jest."
Harry Dresden has posed:
Not one to hang on to anyone overly long of late, Harry releases the hand after the kiss. He isn't trying to be rude, just not overly friendly either considering this is the place the supernatural comes to gather.

Once he has let go of her hand he watches move over a seat. Shaking his head he tells her,"I would say you haven't heard the family name no. My father was a stage magician, not terribly successful." he admits and looks at the bracelet,"My mother is more formidable, but I don't remember much about her as my dad raised me for most of my life."

He smirks just a little and shakes his head,"Not making too much fun. It's not everyday someone decides to talk to me out of the blue." he admits,"Plenty of people enjoy poking fun at my occupation so I try to be mindful about that unless someone engages in petty words. Then all bets are off."

He might relax a little, but his brow raises a little when she talks about her conversation starter and unlike most folks he understands the concept of a Hell Lord and knows full well she could be honest to mislead someone at the same time,"I haven't been to Boston for a while. I will be more mindful if it's been annexed from Hell. I always assumed LA was. Bostonians are a different breed."

A smirk at her comment about jesting and he nods,"Doesn't everybody."

While Harry doesn't openly act as though he has noticed anything, Mac on the other hand is watching her closely and a few others in the room have locked in on her. Studying those around him as well as the touch and her comments all tune him into the fact that she is not typical.
Satana has posed:
Seemingly (this is a key word) unaware of the attention she's brought upon herself, Satana giggles fetchingly (and very physically ... succubus does what succubi do), covering her mouth briefly.

"Oh, no!" she scoffs, waving dismissively, for fun tossing a gesture that's adjacent to, but not quite right for a rather offensive spell. Playing to the fan base. "There's no point in annexing L.A. They're all going to Hell anyway. The point of annexing Boston is to increase the Hellbound count."

Her face gets an intrigued look as she leans forward to Harry. With most clothing this would be a blatant attempt to show off decolletage, but Satana's chosen means of revealing that, a diamond patch of fabric removed whose points reach from just above the pubic bone to the breastbone, actually has the cleavage she displays somewhat concealed from Harry's view. She seems to be actualy interested.

"Seem" is doing some rather heavy lifting in this conversation

"What is your occupation that would have people be so rude as to poke fun?" she asks. "Personally I find the entire notion of an occupation terribly fascinating."
Harry Dresden has posed:
While he does enjoy the company, it has been a long day, so he takes aonther bite of his sandwich while he listens to her. Speaking of sandwich, one arrives to her place on the bar. Mac continues to watch her, but doesn't engage her in any way. He glances to Harry and asks oddly,"Thomas and Lara doing well?"

Harry's eyes narrow a little and his eyebrow raises,"As good as can be expected." he replies. Chasing the sandwich with his brew, Harry looks back to Satana and offers her a card. The card has his name on it, the address of his office across the road, and marks him as a private detective and wizard. Shaking his head he admits,"I'd like nothing better than be able to study and practice my magic, but neither pays the bills so I am a P.I. as well."

He notices her, notices her clothing when she entered, and notices more about her than most do. His mind is trained that way,"People are rude in their own way anyway. I just get to where I don't put much faith in those outside of my would be family."
Satana has posed:
"You're a magician?!" Satana's enthusiasm seems (again with the heavy lifting!) authentic as she claps her hands together. She fiddles around behind her back a moment and then stops, her face getting a rather angry look. And she darts a glance at Mac, for some inexplicable reason, that would kill a lesser being.

This proceeds so quickly before the pleasant face returns that it could be thought of as an hallucination.

"Oh my," she says, looking sheepishly at Harry, "I appear to have forgotten my playing cards. It's alright, though. I'm sure that you're tired of people asking you to ply your trade for free.

There's still a hint of simmering resentment in her eyes as they flick toward Mac once again. Someone doesn't like her jokes stymied.
Harry Dresden has posed:
"My father was a magician." he replies and shakes his head,"An illusionist." he adds,"I tend to do things on a deeper and more primal level." He notes the interaction between them, well the lack of interaction and shakes his head,"I don't try to use in here. It's a bad idea."

A shake of his head and he takes another bite of his sandwich before talking again,"I am not good at card tricks. I tend to be better and making things burn." he admits,"My abilties are messier and should come with a hazardous warning. Anything more advanced than a candle has a tendency of burning out in my presence."
Satana has posed:
"Oh, so you're like those guys at the park who spit fire?" If she's going for bimbo, it's not working. There's a certain glint of amused mischief in her eyes. "I always wondered how they could put that stuff in their mouth. That would taste awful!"

She pauses in her act to take another long pull at her beer, looking over the clientel and fingerwaving to some of those staring at her, acting as if she hasn't a care in the world.

And probably marking people who are trouble.

"I dabble a bit in magic myself," she finally says, setting down her beer with about another gulp left in the bottom. "I found this wonderful shop in ... I think the town was called Sunnydale? And the girl behind the counter claimed to be a witch and taught me a couple of charms she said would make men fall for me."

And truth be told she does have a pair of charms that do that ... they're just not magical.

"Maybe I could teach you those and then you can have spells that don't burn the city down."
Harry Dresden has posed:
Shaking his head he tells her,"I haven't ever tried shooting it from my mouth. I am with you, I don't know how they put it in their mouth either. He smirks at her a little, appreciating the amusement.

He takes the last bite of his sandwich when she stops to take a drink again. A drink from his brew finishes it as well,"The Magic Box. Mostly like Willow. She is not without ability that one. I think there is more potential than even she senses. Something just below the surface."

He considers her comment about dabbling in magic. He meets Mac's gaze who nods and that is all. He goes back to work and Harry looks back at Satana,"Somehow I doubt you need charms to make men fall for you. You seem to have plenty of your own already." He indicates around the room,"Willow mean well, but she is a little naive yet."

He laughs softly and shakes his head,"I don't need anyone falling for me right now." he tells her with a sigh,"I can usually knock down the city too, but burning it leaves a bigger impression."
Satana has posed:
"She's a lovely girl, but so crippled with self-doubt," Satana agrees. "I'm tempted to buy a home in Sunnydale just to help turn her into a confident, self-assured woman."

She picks up her beer and finishes it, putting it back on the counter and asking Mac offhandedly, "Another please?"

"Maybe take her as a lover," she adds pensively, looking briefly at the ceiling as she does so. "She is quite lovely."

Her eyes fall on Harry again."Meaning well, however, as I'm sure you're aware, is not enough to save you from perdition in the end, is it? I mean once, when I was terribly bored, I bought a road construction company. I had it renamed to the Good Intentions Paving Company."

She waits a polite amount of time for Harry to catch the joke."You are a charming man. So flattering. But something has upset you. Recently, I would guess. You're so ... closed off."
Harry Dresden has posed:
Listening to her talk about buying a house gets a raised brow,"It is an interesting area. You shouldn't have trouble buying anything as the property values there never seem to come up." he admits.

Mac brings her another drink of course and nods. Not a talkative bartender, but everyone expects as much.

He raises a brow at the mention of making her a lover,"You are pretty and might be her type. I don't know as I don't really know her that well. I know her well, but not that well."

He chuckles softly,"The road to Hell is paved with good intentions." he agrees and considers Satana again and laughs when she mentions the name of her company.

Mac snorts softly at something and Harry gives him a look. He looks back to Satana and replies,"It's been a while since anyone referred to me as charming. I think you confused Mac." he offers. He considers her and finally nods,"Let's say someone fooled me into thinking I had a relationship with a woman and another person took the memory of the one woman I do love and didn't know who she was while being in the non relationship. Demons suck seems to be the theme of my life recently."
Satana has posed:
"We do," Satana agrees smoothly with a smile. "But only if you ask nicely."

She winks lasciviously at Harry before continuing on with banality as if she hadn't just dropped a bombshell.

"I am her type, yes," she says. "I felt the tension while I was speaking with her. That's hardly an observation, however. I can be anybody's type given time to observe."

She sweeps her gaze over the observers in the bar with amusement.

"My base form is apparently the type of many without any effort, but should effort come into it, I can be anybody's with only a bit more work."

Then something strange enters her voice. "Do you happen to know the Name of the demon who tormented you?" Yes. She capitalized the word 'Name'. In speech. "I'm not fond of people playing in my playground without permission. I might have ... words, let's call it that ... with them on your behalf if you like."
Harry Dresden has posed:
When she mentions only if asked nicely, the left corner of his mouth curls up a little and nods. Message received. He shakes his head and admits,"Willow is wound pretty tight. Tighter than the head of a snare drum tight. I worry about her in that regard.

"You're beautiful sure enough. An Irishman I used to know would say you were a "stiffener"." he admits with a snort. He considers her words and admits,"I can see you being attractive to anyone. If I wasn't in a wreck currently I might be susceptible to that too."

He considers the words she asks and replies,"Lasciel. I took one of the cursed silver coins into my hand to preveny my best friend's toddler son from doing so. Once you touch one of the Blackened Denarious coins, you get a copy of the demon in your head. Sometimes she enjoys screwing with my mind, other times she doesn't bother me for a long time."
Satana has posed:
"Huh. That bitch." Satana makes a wry expression. "Her claim predates mine. I could oust her, but ... it would be a battle royale and it would cost me a lot of standing and power. If this were just some imp or fiend I'd do it as a free service; I don't like, as I said, people playing in my playground without permission. Someone like one of the Originals, however? That tackling such would require payment. Very handsome payment. I'm sorry."

She seems to be entirely dropping the pretense of just being a ditzy rich girl now. She still exudes sex appeal (which likely tells Harry exactly what he's dealing with), but something has changed in her mannerisms. She's conversing with Harry as a ... well, not as an equal, but as someone worth taking seriously.

Harry may have some research to do.

"The Whoreson just keeps littering this sphere with His mistakes and troubles, doesn't he? It sometimes drives me mad."

She pauses to see how Harry reacts to her increasing revelation while she drinks her second beer, peering at him over the edge of the glass.
Harry Dresden has posed:
A shake of his head and he replies to her,"She is that for sure." he agrees,"While the idea of watching the battle royale might be fun, particularly with a front row seat, I don't think either of us wnats to have that sort of payment. Most of the time I know when she is up to something."

He doesn't miss the fact she is dropping her pretense. Sometimes you have to be patient to see the other person. He definately knows she is beautiful, he's just not in that headspace and probably just saved himself.

"I don't know a lot about the ins and outs. The story goes, Lucifer tempted Judas to betray the Christ. The coins were cursed after Iscariot hung himself." He laughs softly,"I am not much for religion, but my best friend is so I learn whether I want to or not. I have encountered gods and can't say that I have met his God yet."

Common sense would say he should be afraid, but sometimes common sense eludes him. He nods to Mac as his to go order arrives,"I haven't heard him referred to as the Whoreson. That's a first, whether you meant Lucifer or Jesus, but could see either one of them referred to that way by people."
Satana has posed:
"Which one of Lucifer ..." There's a certain involuntary awe to Satana's voice as she says that name. Awe in the old sense. Fear. "... or the other one ..." She really doesn't want to say that name out loud, does she? "... was born of a philandering whore?" Satana winks. "That would be the Whoreson."

Satana sighs and then drains her drink, then realizes something.

"I can't pay for this." Her eyes turn to Mac. "For reasons that this one knows intimately."

Translation: she can't use the cantrip she uses to bring money to her.

"I'll have to step outside a moment to get the cash. If you'd care to accompany me so that I'm not a dine-and-dasher, Mr. Dresden? I'm not really carrying anything..." Again that flick of angry eyes toward Mac. "...valuable that I could leave behind as a hostage after all unless he wants my clothing."
Harry Dresden has posed:
"I assumed that would be that one, but one should never rely on assumption." he tells her, noting the reverence of Lucifer and the hesitation to mention the son's name.

Harry laughs again, shaking his head as she mentions not having money. He looks to Mac who nods that she is correct about not having money. Harry removes his wallet and takes out enough to cover his bill and hers,"Your first time, I'll cover you this time. Next time you can pick up my check." Nothing in his tone indicates he believes she will do that.

He stands up and pulls on a leather duster. Her eyes can see sigils drawn on the coat and power within it.

Mac snorts and takes the money before walking to cash Harry out,"You don't know, he might be willing to take your clothes." Harry quips and not a few of the men in the room stop to stare at that idea.

Settling things, Harry nods to her,"Give me a call if you need a P.I. Normally I would say come to the office, but I would be very careful coming in over there. There is a different form of magic protecting it. Stronger than anything I can do, though I supplement it with my own spells. You might be in for a bad surprise over there as those spells are active, not passive."

A guy with a duster should have a hat on his head to tip, but Harry doesn't do hats. He nods to her and tells her,"It was interesting meeting you Satana. I will see you around." He pauses and admits,"A pleasure meeting you, but don't let that go to your head." With that he turns and starts out the door with his to go order.
Satana has posed:
"I know what you think of me," Satana says conversationally to Mac after Harry is out of earshot, beforehand smiling at him coquetishely as is her wont. "And it doesn't bother me. You're ... not entirely right. But not entirely wrong. And in the end, the only opinion that matters is my own."

She turns a pleasant face toward Mac.

"I'll be coming by more often. But I really don't appreciate having my utility cantrips blocked. You think I can carry cash in an outfit like this?!"

She snorts and turns her attention to her steak sandwich, having visibly dismissed Mac from her attention.

Harry Dresden. Wizard and Private Dick. We'll have some fun together we will. You just don't know it yet.