8230/All Is Not Lost

All Is Not Lost
Date of Scene:	09 July 2019
Location:	Club Mjolnir
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Silver Sable, Hela, Turtle, Quicksilver, Power Girl, Black Alice

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Silver Sable has posed:
The bell jingles at the door to admit Silver Sablinova. It's quiet at Mjolnir. No big crowds or drunken mercenaries and off-duty soldiers getting in bar brawls.

Or big sloppy drunk Asgardian thunder-gods.

Dusky encarmine cloth drapes from her shoulders, a women's pantsuit. The heels are modest wedges that look easy to move in; her suit jacket is cut a bit more masculine than some might prefer, the sleeves partially rolled up to expose a bit of forearm.

Silver pushes her shock-white hair back from her cheekbones, the bobcut efficient and easy to manage. Eyes land on the bartender and she steps towards him with a quick and purposeful stride. Palms lay flat on the bar and eyes lock with him.

"Looking for Elle," she tells him. "Is she in?"

Hela has posed:
On a Tuesday night, it can get slow, and there's no harm in that. Everything is cyclical after all. It just means that more attention can be paid to any new arrival. With fewer crowds, Elle isn't currently out and about. But the man behind the bar seems like he can get her, as she nods at Silver, "for a woman like you, she may well be," he offers with a wink. His game might not be the best, but hell, Silver did strike quite a presence. He picks up a phone, presses a button, mutters a few words, and then puts it down. "She'll be here shortly, in the meantime, would you care for a drink?"

Silver Sable has posed:
Silver stares flatly at the fellow. Long enough to make him a little uncomfortable as his flirty impropriety crosses some invisible line with her. Palms flatten against the worn old lacquer and she leans forward a fearless half inch. Blood can be seen staining a bandage wrapped around her left forearm.

"Vodka," she prompt him, finally. "Neat. Double," she tells him.

She glances at the doorway he'd looked to, then back at him. "Make it two of those," she bids him, lifting two fingers to prompt him for a second drink. Presumably, for Elle.

Hela has posed:
There's something to be said about Silver's ability to instil fear based on presence alone, the way she leans, stares and strikes her palm into the counter, it all makes the bartender change his mind real quick in regards to flirtations.

"Vodka, neat, coming right up," he answers promptly, before grinning as he holds up two fingers, "double it is," and with that all small talk dies, as he does expertly prepares what is likely the simplest order of the day.

By the time the two glasses are set before Silver, Elle can be seen coming in from a hallway to the side of the bar, decked in her gothic outfit, all black with Norse runes embroidery work along with those fancy black feather cuffs. When she gets there, the bartender finds other task to busy himself with.

Elle for her part doesn't spare more than a glance at the bartender, muttering, "have you been behaving, Andrew?" Her words carrying a rough Norwegian lilt.

Elle's attention is swift to turn to Silver, a smile starts surfacing across her visage, "I didn't expect to see you again, Silver...I hope on your last visit, I wasn't out of line? I showed you something I rarely show anyone..."

Turtle has posed:
The Turtle, notorious professional thief from the Mississippi territories, and member of the Rogues, the colloquial name in the Deep South and Midwest for the Flash's enemies, trundles into Club Mjolnir. He's a large, old man, with a bald skull and stringy white hair hanging from his horseshoe of remaining hair. A pointed nose and slick, fat pair of lips grins with his lowered chin pressing his jowls down, a pair of unusually alert and tragically sad eyes staring straight forward with a confident purpose unusual for such a humble hooligan.

Especially one in a huge green turtle suit of kevlar and weave ceramic shell.

His boots drag their way through the club, not an ounce of socially conscious emotion to him, instead possessed of savage courage and boundary confidence in his own personal space. He knows he could take the average New Yorker to the floor with one of his big claw hands, or charge one into a wall for a broken sternum and a thick slug to the liver, straight through the gut.

The Turtle has come out of his usual swamps today, for a bit of information for his temporary backers among the crime rings of the south. Some member of a local group of concerned political partisans is interested in Suicide Squad's cooperation with the Hayoth overseas, that lost their county an arms dealing contract, based on their political views.

The Turtle's job is simple, to acquire a pawn to use as an object of blame for the storm that's coming to New York City, from a Maggia contract on the life of a power broker affiliated with the Owls and the Israelis, as a broker. The auspices of his visit, however, are to locate an Israeli embassy staging point from his pawn, a location he is already well aware of from his benefactor from the information he requested.

If he needs to extract himself from a soupy situation, he's got an auto-dialer located inside his shell, beneath his left arm, within reach of his right, to flip open and tap a pair of coded keys. That will contact a thief named Slim, and result in an NYPD call on Turtle for disorderly behavior, namely the brawl he will surely be losing.

Quicksilver has posed:
ZOOMING up to the front of the club is Pietro Maximoff. Or rather, the Avenger and former Brotherhood Member known as Quicksilver. He seems to be wearing casual clothing. Boots, some blue jeans, a light jacket, and some nice fingerless gloves on his hands. His silver hair being his most noticeable trait, Pietro moves his way over to the bar area, noticing Silver Sablinova and 'Elle'. "Good afternoon to you both." Judging from his mannerisms and curious ways of looking around, thisi s probably his first time at this particular club.

Power Girl has posed:
Power girl wasn't the most subtle of heroes, certainly the recognizable sort when she was out and about doing that caped crusader thing...but that was why people had dual identities to fall back on. Sometimes? People just needed to take a break and have a drink. If anywhere was likely to have something she might -actually- get a buzz from, it would be an Asgardian themed establishment, right?

Wishful thinking from the kryptonian.

Still, with her hair down and wrapped in a simple black skirt and matching jacket zipped up over the deep red shirt she wore beneath, Karen star pushes into the club and turns her gaze over the space and the crowd. She'd never been here before, but it's asthetic alone was enough to bring a little 'huh' from her lips before she too makes the inevitable approach to the bar. "Neat place," the blonde voices, mostly to herself.

Silver Sable has posed:
Silver looks up at Elle's voice, and a smile threatens the corner of her mouth. She straightens and regards the woman crossing the bar to her.

"Elle, I--"

She's stopped by the slowest and fastest interruptions she's ever seen in her life. Pietro's just /there/, so quickly that it boggles even her reflexes. Wedged heels shift under Silver and she gives his throat a look as if gauging how hard to punch him if he comes in any closer.

"Good day," she says, with a stiff Symkarian accent.

And then Turtle... drags in, and Silver stares at him with a little slack in her jaw. How he's even /moving/ in that outfit...

Maybe she captures some hint of the dangerous errand he's on, or at least it's present in his bearing. Once more her weight shifts and she just steps back two paces, giving the bar up to the two bizarrely mismatched fellows who've come up sharply on her position.

"I... Yes. What was I saying?" she says, tearing her gaze away to look back at Elle. Eyes flicker to Karen when the blonde woman approaches. An appraising head-to-toe follows and Silver nods very slightly at Karen, as if apologizing for getting a fast read on her. No one likes being stared at in a bar by a stranger.

Turtle has posed:
"I'll take a shot of whiskey in a Budweiser, white and red can, none of that college crowd stuff," comes the grating words of The Turtle, as he climbs up onto a bar stool at the corner, spreading his knees wide and locking his boots into place to distribute his weight.

Can't be breaking the furniture, now.

"That's called a boilermaker, bikers drink it," comes Turtle with a point of a thick finger, denoting a point of important information from a prison professor.

He drags a bowl of popcorn across the bartop and puts it in range of his left hand, propping his left arm up on the bar just before the elbow. He may be a crook, heist man, and all around loathsomely undereducated man, but polish comes from intention, not Poland. He's a true southern man of distinction and genteel bearing, meaning that money comes from his desire for it, not from any type of willed inheritance or position of beatification from a carpetbagger.

If it were easy as having money to be rich, then there would be no children.

Hela has posed:
Turtle gets a look from Elle as he steps inside, carrying herself like someone to keep an eye on, but she doesn't do anything beyond that. Apparently at Club Mjolnir people don't get asked to leave simply based on looks.

Her attention soon shift to Pietro who makes quite an entrance, leaving no room to doubt who he was, "an Avenger at my establishment," Elle greets him with a smile, "did Thor speak highly of this place per chance?" She muses, before her eyes shift towards Karen, another person she hasn't seen attend the club before. "Better than neat, it's authentic," Elle offers to Karen, even if she didn't necessarily mean to address anyone. "If you want a real taste of Scandinavia, go for the dishes and drinks that seem hard to pronounce," she offers as a tip.

"Do go on..." she prompts Silver, having been eager to hear what she had to say after last time they met. "Yes, I should like to know what it is you were about to say..."

The bartender gives Turtle a look, but nevertheless, goes about preparing the drink as requested. "I appreciate the education, it doesn't often come with an order," Andrew jokes, and moments later serves the drink to Turtle.

Quicksilver has posed:
Pietro looks over at Silver and he seems to lift his hands as he notices that look from her. He's been in the business a long time, and though he could probably run circles around her, he doesn't want to risk a woman's scorn. But then he looks at Karen as she approaches the bar, and he smiles at her. "I know right? Its kind of neat. First time?" He asks. But unlike others, he's not giving her appraising looks. He's full eye contact.

But then he looks at Turtle. Not sure what to make of this guy, only that he looks really shady. But, for the moment, he looks at Elle, then back to Karen, wondering if she'd speak with him.

Power Girl has posed:
The look-over was noted by Karen, but it didn't really cross the lines into the bounds of offensive. Turtle's arrival earns a blink, but it's behaviour rather than any recognition on the blonde's behalf. She hadn't picked him as a criminal, or at least not one that she was going to act on.

Ella's response earns a little laugh and she nods, shrugging her shoulders. "Looks it too." She could hardly debate it after all, and it wouldn't really matter as far as charm goes.

Then there was a speedster in the room!

Of course, with Karen's perception, she could actually 'see' Pietro arrive, but that wasn't exactly something she could advertise. Instead, there's a startled noise from the woman before she shakes her head and exhales, looking back to the bartender. "Can I get a drink? Something...authentic?" she questions of Andrew before looking back at Pietro. "Aren't you worried you're going to break something if you trip over it running into a room like that?"

Silver Sable has posed:
"I..." Silver steps aside another pace or two, so they're not in immediate earshot (well, save for Karen, but the solution there is going off-planet). Fingers interlace, flex with a crack of knuckles. Silver stares down at her palms, rough-callused and scarred.

"I was a little... suspicious before," she explains. "No one's taken me into their confidence in some time. Not like that. When you ..." Eyes dart to the panelling, back to Elle, pointed in their silence. "Anyway. You showed me something important to you. It was rude of me to vanish, and I wanted to say... thank you. For sharing with me. I am very humbled, and touched. I hope you'll forgive me."

Turtle has posed:
"What, someone write a math problem on my forehead?" Turtle says to Pietro at the look, grinning, before he lifts his beer with his right hand and salutes with it, then placing it beneath his lip with the full head and gives it a long tipple into his mouth, then back down his throat with a smooth motion.

There's a grimace from the left side of his face, squinting his eye, as he sets the high glass down on his coaster and looks at the lines of dripping liquid from the disturbed froth, trailing down the smooth sides of his drink.

As the coaster is moistened, he reaches over to the popcorn bowl with his left hand and descends his fingers into it, taking an individual piece, instead of a messy handful, and placing it in his mouth, lower lip tucked in, rolling it back into his mouth with his tongue and chewing with practiced grace and reticence.

Hela has posed:
"Well then I would recommend the mead," Andrew the bartender offers Power Girl, before showing how much of a lapse it was with Silver, as he offer the very gender equality take of adding, "if you're feeling like you can hold your liquor, I would even dare offer the Hrulfgar, but, it's seriously for hard drinkers only. No joke."

"That is Quicksilver of the Avengers," Elle remarks to Karen, "and he operates to high speeds, I dare say if there was something to trip over, he'd already moved past it, before it even was placed in his path."

"Suspicious of what...?" Elle asks as she moves a few paces alongside Silver, understanding the need for some modicum of privacy. "I'll be honest, I did not anticipate your response, but I do value that you recognize what it was and what it meant that you were shown that you were." Elle looks mostly relieved to hear those words coming out of Silver. "I wondered if perhaps you were sensitive to energies, or auras, and that's what set you off...I understand the experience can be intense, to those sensitive to it."

Quicksilver has posed:
Pietro looks over at Karen with a bit of a smile. "Only if I'm not looking where I'm going." and he experienced most things in slow motion, but Karen was probably one of the people who could keep up and keep track of him. Its nice to meet people like that, not that Pietro has any idea as to Karen's alter ego.

But then Elle rats him out.

"Well...on casual trips, I prefer Pietro Maximoff." he chuckles a bit, before he offers his hand to Karen for a handshake. "Since you know my name, may I know yours?" then he looks at Hela. "and yours for that matter too." but then again...Avengers were not known for following the secret identity thing, so Pietro really shouldn't be surprised someone knows who he is.

Power Girl has posed:
Of course, Karen -could- overhear, but that didn't mean she was going to make it obvious that she was listening. It wasn't deliberate eavesdropping, but what can you do? Instead she turns her attention towards Turtle and his question before she too reaches for the popcorn bowl, but it's several pieces her deceptively delicate digits grasp before looking back to the bartender. The challenge was there, and sense would refuse but...well, wasn't she here to relax?

"I'm a scientist," she offers Andrew the Bartender with a smile, "might as well see how hard it hits me. For science." There's a wink, but as Ella and Silver step away she does indeed turn towards Pietro and his offer of introduction. She takes the hand, but it's not much of a squeeze in the shake, practiced enough to seem 'normal'. "Karen Starr," she offers in introduction returned.

Yeah, she -did- do that secret identity thing!

Black Alice has posed:
There is a POP BANG of Dark Magic by the front of the club to those who can tell those sort of mystically inclined things. It isn't shielded. It isn't disguised. Just pow something happened.

Moments later Black Alice just prowls in walking for all the world like she owns the place. Which is probably not possible being the owner is actually here and she looks like a teenager. Seriously though despite her height she radiates imposing attitude and gothy snark. To those with a touch of the danger sense this girl is definitely either fifty times more confident than she should be, or she is dangerous.

Stopping in the middle of the room. "Well no shit, it is actually a damn mead hall... I figured it was going to be like Scandinavian death metal club but .. damn.. I swear..."

Silver Sable has posed:
"Sensitive?" One of Sable's immaculate white brows lifts minutely. "Not that I've ever known of. But, not a long history of Romanii travelers in my family bloodline, either," she says, with a disparaging wrinkle of her nose. The very idea!

"No. Maybe. Just... instincts," she confesses. "I did not expect something so ..." Her brow furrows. "I do not have words," the Symkarian woman admits. She twists her neck to look over her shoulder at Alice's entry, back to Elle.

"I don't mean to take your time up," she apologizes. "You're busy. Clients. I do not mind sitting at the bar for a time. We can talk more-- later," she assures Elle.

Hela has posed:
"An Avenger who doesn't know..." Elle turns to look at Pietro, quite amused at the very question she raises. "Elle Quinn," she offers quietly, "though you'd have been more likely to hear of me as 'Miracle Elle', I helped save people from the Black Sleep, now I have a club in Hell's Kitchen. It's a funny world we live in..."

"One Hrulfgar, for science," Andrew smiles widely as Karen takes the challenge, he goes about fetching the bottle which is of unlikely proportions, and kept away from the rest of the spirits. As he pours Karen her drink in a drinking horn, he tells the others, "just be ready to catch the lady if it does hit her too hard, please? It would be gentlemanly..." and with that he hands the drinking horn to Karen. The liquid carries hints of honey, and something altogether alien seeming, unless Club Mjolnir somehow procured some ingredients from the Viking Age that has since been lost. It does carry the scent of a strong drink, a drink fit for the gods as it were.

"Mind you, I meant it as a compliment, not a slight...there are different manners of sensitivity and things to be sensitive to. Some might suggest weakness, other keen sense or insight," Elle winks playfully at Silver, who seems to have taken her words the wrong way. "...I believe the word you are looking for is, honest, or perhaps true or real. As I said in the past, I am no charlatan."

But even as they speak, and Elle wants to prolong it, she most definitely senses the arrival or rather mean of arrivals of Lori. Something that can prove troublesome so close to Eljudnir, and so instead of making the offer she was about to make to Silver, she nods. "Yes, clients indeed, we shall continue this another day, or perhaps later in the night if you are still lingering..." Elle offers and immediately turns to walk towards Lori, meeting her half way to the bar. "It is no mere mead hall, it is a mounument, homage and tribute to what is no more. It is truth, Thor himself vouched for it when he partook in our hospitality."

Turtle has posed:
The Turtle's eyes briefly fall upon Karen Starr, knowing that, despite all his years of misogynist fantasy necessary to the life of a professional thug and prison convict, that type of woman has never been for him. He merely offers her a benign smile, honestly so without the fallacious suggestion in his eyes, and moves his look away, letting her eat the popcorn for a time.

Black Alice's entry piques his curiousity, looking over his shoulder at the sorceress. Could that be his paycheck? He'll see if she's the right stuff for his client's frameup proposition.

"Hey, lady, the death metal club is in the back, they use it for the fake driver's license brats!" he shouts playfully, shifting into his criminal persona of an armored car highjacker, the type of guy you'd love to have at a party in a flophouse, in a drinking duel."

Quicksilver has posed:
"Karen huh? Nice to meet you." Pietro gives her a kind smile before he looks to the bartender. "I'll take a vodka, please." He does look at Hela for a brief moment, and he gives a small nod. "Well, nice to meet you Elle. I don't quite know you as Miracle Elle, but I have a feeling I will someday." he chuckles just a little bit before hel ooks to Karen at her science joke. "...are you an experimental type? Try new things, new thrills, see what it does to you?

Learning new things about Karen. But then Black Alice arrives, and he gives her a raise of an eyebrow. "So uh...who are you?" might as well ask. But Turtle's shout does make him seem to narrow his eyes at him. Was that necessary?

Power Girl has posed:
Popcorn devoured and drink recieved, Karen is left to just...stare at the drink for a moment. It certainly looked impressive, but moreover it -smelt- impressive. Perhaps she was actually going to have to be careful! Her attempted analysis is suddenly interupted by the sound outside of Alice's arrival, but the woman was no magical sort. Instead she's just left to look over her shoulder at the new woman's arrival before looking back at Pietro and chuckling to his question.

"I was being literal," she offers lightly, shrugging and taking another sniff. "I work in a lab." With one last glance over the others, even Sable and Hela where they linger to the side, the woman takes her first gulp of her drink. For science. How does Kryptonian physiology stand up against 'probably alien' liquer?

Black Alice has posed:
Lori's attention flicks towards Turtle when he mouths off "My names Black Alice and I didn't use a fa.." and she cuts herself short right about when Elle walks up to her meeting her halfway into the bar.

"Right like Thor God of Thunder would..." and she stops again, eyes narrowing as she looks at Elle. "Woah fuck sakes." those narrowed eyes widening as she actually takes a step back. Her fingers flex in a half claw motion as her hand rests by her side there.

Anyone magically sensitive can feel something stir in the room around Lori. Elle though feels a fluttery brush all around her magic, the core of it all, honestly a sensation like Lori could sink into it and pull it all away. Then Black Alice steps back one more step and all of it stops going utterly magically silent "And nope... nope nope nope." pause "No offense lady."

Silver Sable has posed:
Silver ends up closer to Karen and Pietro than Turtle, and watches dubiously as Power Girl throws back the shot. A cocktail straw is procured; Silver nudges Karen, holding a fingertip over the straw's mouth to make a little siphon. No cooties! "May I try some?" the silver-haired woman inquires politely.

On closer inspection, Silver must have just gone grey early in life. She can't be over thirty, features smooth and refined despit a silvery scar here and there.

Silver's no sensitive, but the confrontation between Lori and Elle speaks volumes of body language. With a shift of her hips she leans a nonchalant palm against the bartop. The motion conceals a hand sliding around the side of her hip to the small of her back, fingertips just grazing the butt of a pistol concealed there.

Turtle has posed:
"It's a joke, come on," the Turtle says with a wave of his arm. "Anyone makes a joke in this country and they think it's a guy with a purple suit and a green pompadour."

He returns to his beer and takes another slow, long sip, the level of the drink lower in his glass to prevent as much spill, and he sets it down, his tastebuds having adjusted to the bodied sting of brown liquor.

The unusually dressed gentleman from the Gem Cities returns the second look from Pietro, giving him a slim, sarcastically pointed smile, like a cab driver being hassled by a fare. He's used to speedsters, since he's a regular foe of the Flash. He looks away, not meaning to appear threatening. "Just enjoying the club, kid, booze and food is meant to be a jolly occasion."

Hela has posed:
"One vodka, coming right up," Andrew acknowledges Pietro, and before long he serves him his drink, with no other specification, he provides it neat.

Elle normally would have replies to Pietro but it seems with Lori's arrival, she's lost interest in practically everything else in her hall. Instead her full attention is devoted to the young girl who so casually flung a rather fancy gateway spell, one of a darker school of magic at that.

Elle maintains her gaze directly on Black Alice, not averting it for anything else in the club, as she studies Lori's reaction. It was obvious to her, that unlike the others in the room, this was someone with a vague understanding of the presence she was sharing space with. It was fascinating to see what she might do with that understanding.

As Lori's fingers flex in a partial claw-like motion by her side, Elle's own hands fleet to her side, almost like wings about to spread open, though they linger there for a moment. Allowing Lori to determine what will happen next.

For the magically sensitive or otherwise inclined, the room just experienced a magical surge, a spike like old faithful in Yellowstone that was there and gone like a F5 hurricane that lasted mere seconds. To everyone else, absolutely nothing took place, aside for perhaps odd exchanging of looks from Lori and Elle.

"It is always wise to offer no offense, when a guest's rite is offered, food and drink...a hall to share tales and song. This is an ill place for confrontation," Elle smiles at Lori, though any with a clear view might find something oddly unsettling in that smile. It's not sinister per se, but something about it, is almost inhuman, as she gestures with a flourish towards the long tables and the bar at the end of the hall. "Please, share food, drink, be welcome as a guest."

Now is not the time for questions, but Elle has certainly taken note of Lori the way she hadn't done with any prior visitors to the club. Someone like Silver, who has frequented the club before, may take note of that much.

Power Girl has posed:
For all the senses she's got? Magical ones aren't on the list. Power Girl has absolutely -no- idea of the serious mojo that is swirling around them enough to have people so nervous. What's the kryptonian doing? Exhaling a breath and blinking at the 'umpf' in her drink. "Oh wow, that -is- strong!" of course, she wasn't hit as hard as a human might be, but she was able to feel it and that said enough!

Silver's approach earns a blink, but the blonde shrugs lightly before offering the drinking horn out. "Sure but...take it slow, yeah? They weren't kidding."

Still naieve to the antics of Hella and Alice, she glances to the exchange between the speedster and the crook over the rim of her drink.

Black Alice has posed:
Definitely worth noting is that while Lori took two steps back giving Elle more space, she didn't shrink or quake or do much other than stand and stare right back at Elle. That attitude is still very much there. Then again this girl has stolen Dr. Fate's powers before and walked away from it intact.

"I certainly would not want to violate guest rites and break hospitality in this hall." her eyes flick back at the bar and all around the room casing it rapidly then settling back at Elle. "Thank you for welcoming me as a guest." oddly formal for a cursing goth teenager. She inclines her head to Elle not taking her eyes fully off her and then steps right past her within arms reach. Ballsy teenager or trusting in the hospitality offered. Heading towards the bar now back to Elle.

Quicksilver has posed:
Pietro has no idea about magic, or how to sense it. Thats the jargon his sister cares about. He's just REALLY fast. But then he seems to tilt his head as Power Girl apparently seems to be affected by the drink. "Hey, I drank with Thor once. I don't remember anything after the first cup." He laughs a little bit then. "Surprised I'm still alive. But, oh well." he looks at Power Girl then. "A scientist you said? Whats your field of study?"

He's happy he got Karen to chuckle, but then he's looking over at Elle and Black Alice. He's not entirely sure whats going on over there, but apparently there's talk of formality and guest rites and....blergh.

Then he looks at Silver Sablinova as she also wants to try out the heavy liquor. "Let me know how it is." apparenlty he too was interested in trying it.

Hela has posed:
Andrew for his part looks stunned when Karen remains on her feet, and looks relatively okay, for the most part. "Lady, I gotta hand it to you, had my doubts, but you're a hardcore drinker, that's for sure," Andrew sings Karen's praises, offering her a symbolic bow before her drinking prowess. He did not expect her to remain on her feet.

Elle herself, from her manner of dress, doesn't look much different from the teenaged girl. Well, she is certainly older, and there's perhaps more Norse runes embedded in her gothic designs, particularly the Valknut. But otherwise, to an onlooker, it's big goth and little goth. The styling, certainly not out of place. The change in tone, however, is very much appreciated by the owner of the club.

Elle inclines her head in turn at Alice, maintaining this unlikely formality, before calling out to Andrew, "whatever the girl wants, treat her on the house," she then veers towards Silver once more.

"Today we made amends Silver, that is fine. We shall have a more meaningful discussion when next the opportunity presents itself..." whatever Elle was thinking of doing before, it seems Alice's presence has made her change her mind.

Silver Sable has posed:
"Blagodaram," Silver tells Karen. The language is Symkarian but the tone suggests gratitude. The straw's dipped in the drink and a fingertip seals the cap off to trap some liquid. Silver shakes loose one dangling drop, glances at Karen, then lifts the straw to her mouth and drains it over her tongue.

Eyes fly wide and she coughs, once. "Oh, my, that is..." Er -HEM. Silver drums her sternum with a palm. "Very strong, and /very/ smooth," she gets out, for Pietro's benefit. "I'm not sure I'd want to try and get through more than one of those," she admits wryly. "I know my limits when it comes to drinking."

When Elle swerves towards her, Silver turns, and meets the woman's eyes. A little concern crosses her face and she nods. "Yes. Later," Silver agrees, offering a polite agreement to Elle. She can tell the other woman's rattled, no matter how well she keeps up her composure.

Turtle has posed:
Turtle reaches over with his left arm, to his right side, and withdraws a money clip. He pays the drink, double and a twenty percent tip, slapping the bills on the table.

"Thanks for the drink." He turns about and goes trundling out, taking the beer and glass with him. "Nice glass, too," he says, as he steps out the door, out of range.

He'll have to find another bar to find his mark.

Black Alice has posed:
Lori isn't about to leave at this point. Hospitality given and accepted. Best the bar has on the house. She counts this officially in the win category.

She does look after Turtle though "Odd guy." then around nodding to Pietro and then Kara before making eye contact with Andrew.

"Right then, how about some Idun hard cider?" pause a beat. "I kid. What's the best mead that won't knock me out in one drink?"

Hela has posed:
Andrew looks aghast at Lori's order, and without saying anything, shifts his gaze towards Elle for approval. But luckily, Lori corrects herself by admitting she was joking, and Andrew appears much more relaxed as he readily reaches to fill a glass from a tap. "Club Mjolnir's House Mead would be the drink of choice," he offeres, before serving Lori.

Elle for her part walks further into the hall, pleased that all is in order, as she offers to Alice, "you should try the Fårikål. I will retire to do business, if you please," she inclines her head towards Lori once, and then towards Silver, "we shall meet again soon." With that she heads towards the hallway she ventured from earlier in the evening.