2301/Bad Moon Rising

Bad Moon Rising
Date of Scene:	02 September 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Dean Winchester, Mina Harker

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Dean Winchester has posed:
It's been dark for hours, a feat increasingly less impressive through the ever-shortening days at the herald of fall. And, thanks to the remote location of the Roadhouse, the roads towards it are relatively empty as well.

The bar on the road to everywhere close to virtually nothing tends to attract a rougher crowd, generally represented in the vehicles in the parking lot. The array of pick-up trucks suggests that the clientele tends to be rural. Which, really should surprise no one thanks to the dusty road and prairie grass around it.

Inside the bar, however, it does seem to be a hub of activity. Patrons of various ages, shapes, and appearances line the tables. But all seem to have this rugged appearance to them--not quite the rural image expected from a place so remote.

Seated at the bar with a bottle of whiskey set in front of him and a half empty glass, Dean has already made his way through more of the bottle than he ought. Sometimes whiskey acts as the perfect bleach for his brain--even if it doesn't last as long as he'd like.

His flannel t-shirt screams country boy, but his lightweight combat jacket--standard SHIELD issue--calls to something entirely different. The booze in his system though has already done some of its work. Lazily, he slides off the school before shooting the blonde behind the counter a lopsided grin. He pivots on his foot and trails to the dart board. Where he plucks all of the yellow darts and proceeds to throw from an appropriate enough distance.

He misses every shot.

"Winchester, I think you owe me a rematch," a much larger fellow hisses

"Don't get your panties in a knot. I'll take your money another time," Dean offers with a tick of a smile.

Mina Harker has posed:
Headlights shine as a car approaches the bar. A door opens and closes, then it drives off. Boot heels sound on the porch outside before a woman enters. She definitely doesn't fit the stereotype of the place, being neither rough-looking nor rural.

The black shirt with jeans and leather jacket would almost look 'normal', if the shirt wasn't a turtleneck and the jeans didn't look new. Then there's the beret and the long, red scarf about her throat.

Her posture is too perfect, the click of boot heels upon the floor a bit too measured. A brief look around the room as she heads towards the bar. And when she orders it's with a distinct English accent. "Bourbon, please. Four fingers. Neat." Tilting her head, the woman's gaze falls to the dart thrower and she asks. "Winchester? Might you be *Dean* Winchester, by chance?"

Dean Winchester has posed:
The blonde bartender pours Mina her drink and slides the glass in front of her. But the mention of Dean Winchester has the woman shooting Dean a pointed look. Dean twists back to catch her gaze, combatting it with no remark, just the sharp lift of his eyebrows to allay any obvious questions.

With a loud clear of his throat, Dean treads back towards the bar to eye the woman looking for him. With a sly quirk of his lips and a nearly arrogant flash of his teeth, he returns the question with one of his own, "Who's asking?" Having spent far too many years, including those of his childhood, hunting things that go bump in the night, Dean takes some measure of caution. Albeit, not enough.

"Buddy," the man who called him Winchester, "has been drinking too much. Thinks I'm some guy's kid." He shrugs. "Mulder. Fox Mulder," he introduces himself with a vague grin.

Mina Harker has posed:
Mina rests an elbow lightly upon the bar, but she doesn't sit. Her gaze is firm and controlled. Almost daunting, were someone to look back at her for too long. "Yes, of course. Mina Murray. And pleased to meet you both." She takes the drink and slugs about half of it back like it was lemonade.

"I'm a new arrival, but I've been asking around for people with unique capabilities. And every line of questions ends right at this bar." The woman lets that sink in for a moment, swirling the amber-colored liquor as she casually surveys the bar's other patrons.

Dean Winchester has posed:
Dean flashes the bartender another smile, as if to suggest he's wholly unique. The blonde merely rolls her eyes and then disappears into the back. He shrugs his shoulders before slipping onto the barstool next to Mina and returning to his bottle of whiskey. Pleased to meet them, "Mutual, I'm sure,' he offers with another vague pull of his lips--this one more calculating than arrogant.

"New arrival to... here?" he lifts a single eyebrow. "The Roadhouse doesn't really get--" his head wobbles in silent assessment. "What I mean is, not a lot of new folks come through here. Unless they're related to or friends with someone who comes this way. Unusual to see new blood is all."

His gaze lingers on her far longer than it probably should and then returns to his whiskey. "And what kind of capabilities you looking for, sweetheart?"

Mina Harker has posed:
Mina toys with the glass, tongue slipping out to wet her lips. She's sizing him up as well, and she isn't overly discrete about it. "New to this community, actually. I've been in America for quite some time, now." She drains the glass and leaves the empty on the bar.

"I'm looking for experts in paranormal and supernatural phenomena." the woman offers in a bit lower voice. At one time her Victorian brain might've had a curt comeback for calling her 'sweetheart', but she's at least a hundred years past that.

The woman's gaze finds Dean's face as she adds. "I have some skill as a field investigator, myself. And I've come to offer my services."

Dean Winchester has posed:
Dean pours some whiskey into the provided cup. While the bartender may be used to his antics, she's also used to letting him deal with them himself. He hums as he settles on the stool. "I don't know about that Dean Winchester," his hand rubs his chin. "But there are plenty of experts in paranormal and supernatural phenomena around here." He motions to the rest of the Roadhouse.

'Fox Mulder' lifts his glass to his lips and takes a long drink. When the glass settles again. "What kind of investigation experience?" His jaw tightens some and he leans against the bar to hold himself upright. It's been a busy evening already.

Mina Harker has posed:
Mina Murray tilts her head at Dean's response, nostrils twitching just once. Not quite a sniff. Taking a sip of her drink, she sizes up 'Fox' more directly as they share the same leaning-support. Considering him for a moment, a tight smile touches her lips and she replies. "The up-close-and-personal kind of experience with dangerous creatures."

Setting the glass down, then, she looks from Fox to Dean. "I'm not certain what sort of trouble you might have here locally. But again, I'm seeking a person more than I am specific cases."

Dean Winchester has posed:
Dean stares at her a few minutes more and then finally nods. "Dean." He lifts his fingers as if she's a teacher taking attendance instead of a woman he's just met in a bar. It's an introduction. He'd avoided giving one before, choosing instead to remain relatively anonymous in his space. "We have plenty of trouble when it comes to things that go bump in the night."

His eyebrows lift in consideration. "Or. Maybe the things that go bump in the night have plenty of trouble with us," a smug pull of his lips suggests he tends to believe the latter, even if it's not wholly accurate. "So... you're a Hunter then?"

Mina Harker has posed:
Mina Murray offers a smile with the admission, inclining her head by way of a 'thank you'. "I was hunted once, many years ago. But since that time I have learned to be the Hunter." She steps closer to Dean, then, and she lowers her voice. "You may have read the story or a fictional account of it. The business involved a Count from a small country in the Carpathian mountains and my late husband, Jonathan Harker."

Dean Winchester has posed:
Dean's lips form an 'o' as he adjusts on his seat to stare at Mina. "Wait. Wait wait wait wait. You're /Mina Harker/?" His eyes squint. "As in... character in Dracula." He frowns deeply. "Yeah, I'm more than familiar with the account."

His jaw tightens. "So. You're a..." but he doesn't say the word. Asserting that someone is a vampire probably counts as rude in any circle, but particularly problematic in the middle of a Hunter-bar surrounded by people who fight such creatures regularly.

Mina Harker has posed:
Mina Murray chuckles softly at his reaction, casting a bit of a wary look from Dean to the others. She sips more slowly. "Was." she replies simply. "The story was published as a fictional novel, and was mostly accurate. Although I didn't have a *completely* happy ending, as suggested by the author."

Draining the glass, she sets it carefully onto the bar and turns to face Dean more completely. "I divorced my husband shortly after the... events. But while I am not completely as you suggest, neither have I come through the ordeal unscathed." Her hand raises slightly, not quite touching the red scarf. "In any case, you have nothing to fear from my association."

Dean Winchester has posed:
"As long as you aren't gonna suck anyone's blood, I don't think it's terribly problematic here," Dean offers back towards Mina. "Basically, you're suggesting that I am not about to get tanked in the middle of the Roadhouse." He actually smirks at that. "Good. Would rather not see all of these sons of bitches horde us here." He winks and finishes his glass.

He refills it. It's nice to have a bottle. "So now you want to go get some things that go bump in the night?"