9846/A Quiet Drink

A Quiet Drink
Date of Scene:	30 October 2019
Location:	Joe's Bar, Kingsbridge, The Bronx
Synopsis:	Byron and Mac go for a 'quiet' drink, and of course, Byron needs a favour.
Cast of Characters:	Byron, Connor Macleod

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Byron has posed:
It started simple enough, just meeting a very old friend for a drink at a bar he knew. Of course nothing stayed simple with Byron, arriving early for a change, he, after a bit of pretending to demure, let the silver haired owner to convince him to take the stage and play some, and then knowing the man played a mean guitar himself called him up to jam.

So, by the time the appointed hour comes around, the bar patrons were clapping and whooping as Byron and Joe tried to one up each other on stage.

Connor Macleod has posed:
The sense of another immortal present hits several feet away as Connor Macleod enters his new old favorite place. Looking at the bar as his eyes adjust to the inside of the Bar, Connor moves slowly and quietly, not making a noice or causing a ruckus. Slow, smooth, fluid, and quiet, an easy task considering what was going on on stage.

Leaning against the bar, Connor drops a fifty to the bartender sitting in for Joe, and then nods, as the man pours him his usual. The good stuff, top shelf, as always. Taking a sip, Connor smiles, enjoying the fun on stage. As usual, Byron was showing off. "Gonna get him killed someday." Connor takes another drink.

Byron has posed:
Byron misses a chord as the feeling of another immortal hits, and Joe glances asking," You okay?"

Seeing Connor walk in, Byron grins, "Never better, shall we play to the big finish?"

Joe nodded and the two guitarists finish their little impromptu show with a final resounding chord.

Byron clapped Joe on the shoulder and grinned. "Joe Dawson everyone," he grins to the crowd and then takes a deep and extravagant bow himself.

"Thanks for the jam, man," Byron says, handing off the borrowed guitar to the barkeep. "We'll have to do it again sometime."

Then Byron is jumping off the stage and wading his way through his fans amoung tfhe patrons, pausing here and there for selfies and autographs. Though by the time he reaches the bar, he calls all of that to a halt. "No more photos, my friend is terribly grumpy and unphotogenic, not his fault though, he's Scottish," he says with a wink back to Conner before disengaging with his fans and wandering to the bar.

"Whatever he's drinking goes on my tab, and give me some of the same," he says to the bartender before looking to Connor with a grin. "Hello old man, how you've been?"

Connor Macleod has posed:
As the music ends, Connor drops his glass on the bar to take a few moments to clap his appreciation of the play styles from both men. Three or four claps, at least. As Joe finishes up, Connor nods politely to the man, picks up his glass in the same fluid motion, and "air toasts" to him.

Taking another sip, Connor shakes his head, watching Byron cater to his "adoring crowd". Never one to be in the public eye, the slight distasteful look Connor shows for the briefest of moments reveals his inner feelings about revealing themselves. Byron was walking a fine line.

"Ach, indeed lads and lassies, ah tend ta' get grumpy when held waitin'." Connor winks at a particularly attractive lady, who blushes. "'tis ma' curse, indeed."

As Byron joins him, Connor says, "Well. Another day older, as ya' put it. I've been well. An' you?" Connor waves to the man behind the bar, and nods for him to keep the money. He then points to himself, and smiles.

Byron has posed:
Byron for his part drinks up that adoration like a sponge, revelling in it, taking in each second like it was the last. Whatever life he chose to lead after this one was over, he'll have to work very hard not to be recognized.

Leaning against the bar Byron, says, "Ah another day older or another day lived? That's the question," Byron says as he awaits his drink. "And I'm arlight, got bored of L.A. thought I'd give New York a try again, see the sights," a nod to Connor, "And visit old friends. Seen any of our other friends around? Anyone, I should look out for?"

Connor Macleod has posed:
"I see you haven't changed any. Still the same old Byron." Connor chuckles and takes another sip of the old, old Scotch. Byron's question hovers there for a few seconds while he muses on his answer. Swirling the amber liquid around in the glass to go with the pause, Connor finally shrugs, as though the answer was being pulled out of him.

"Another day lived. You know, that is a deeper question than I care to acknowledge." Connor smiles wanly, and looks over at Byron as he regales Connor of the tempest that was his trip from LA to NYC.

"Now that is a better question. I have seen a few. Raissa, is new in town. Not sure if you met her or not. Old, but not a dark soul. Nikias of course. I thought that old Spartan would be gone by now, but he still lives and breathes." Connor grins. "I have heard, from whispers in the dark, that the Raven may also be skulking around, so beware...keep your goods locked away in the deepest pit. Other than that, nothing."

Byron has posed:
Smiling with plenty of irony, Byron says through a laugh. "Why change when you've already found perfection?" he glances down at his glass and takes a longer swallow draining it almost to the bottom.

He waves the bartender down, "Gonna need the bottle I think," he says.

Turning back to Conner, Byron nods, "Fair enough, only a lark to begin with, something I say to keep my head focused on what's important in our lives, living." He pushes his hand through his hair, then and smiling at the topic shift even if he was the one to bring it up to begin with.

"Rai, yeah, saw her already when I was looking for you, actually," Byron admits. "Still a vision as always, definitely didn't get her cousin Vlad's looks, or his moustache," he says with a slight chuckle. "And no? Niki's still alive? Huh, well he was always a tough old bastard, but figured he might have his head blown off his shoulders on some battlefield or another. Not like the old days where he and two-hundred and ninety-nine of his friends can stop an army, more's the pity, makes for a better story."

The mention of the Raven has Byron's perking up like a dog on the scent. "She's here? Well that's good news, she's never boring, watching her steal is like watching Picasso paint, beautiful, definitely worth a few lost baubles. If you see her around send her my way, yeah? Been ages."

Leave it to Byron to walk willingly into one of Amanda's scams just for the thrills..

Connor Macleod has posed:
Looks over his shoulder at Byron as he orders the whole bottle. With a lopsided grin, Connor Macleod pushes his now empty glass forward for a refill. Tapping the edge of the glass, Connor says, "If you are buying tha' next bottle, ah'm all in." Connor watches the man for a moment, as though waiting.

"Ah, you met her. Good. Another arrival to the game in tha' City. You'd think it was a mini-Gathering or something. Like that thing back in the 80s." When the Kurgan escaped him. Where has he been all this time? Hmmmm.

"Yeah. Niki..." Connor frowns at that name, "...he's still kicking. Grumpy as ever a' course. Glad there is only 1 of him, and not 300...can you imagine?" Connor agrees with Byron's comments. First time for everything.

"No, the Raven is /never/ boring." Connor laughs and takes another swig of the good stuff. "If I see her, which would be a feat in and of itself, I will make sure she comes your way, and avoids my way." Connor grins.

"So...we have danced around everyone else...wha' have you been up ta'?"

Byron has posed:
"Of course, wouldn't leave you wanting," he says and when the bottle is delivered, he does the pouring himself before filling his own glass. He notices the watching, the waiting and raises a brow, but doesn't comment, exept to prattle, "Good place this, like the drink and that bartender has chops, think I'm going to have to be a regular, or buy the place, one or the other."

"Think so?" Byron asks, his bright demeanor dimming a little. "Missed that one...I was..." he looks thoughtfful. "Somewhere at the time," he offers with a smile as his memory fails him, or he decides it's best not to share what he was doing in the 80's, dealer's choice. "Speaking of that whole business? Have you seen..." he draws a finger across his throat. "Again?"

His grin returns at the idea of 300 Nikis, "Well, if there were I'd hope they enjoy each other's company, because I am pretty sure that many Nikis would kill just about everyone eventually," he says laughing and shaking his head.

"True enough, usually when you see the Raven it's already too late, still, pass on I'm looking and keep that shop of yours locked up."

Ah the inevitable question.. Byron takes a drink then looks down at the amber liquid. "Oh might have gotten myself in a little bit of trouble in L.A. Did I ever tell you about the Jasnissary? Turkish fellow, big nasty scimitar, the reason I had to fake my death that first time in Greece," he says a little sorely. "He's one of us, and I... may have slept with his wife back then, and he really hasn't let it go," Byron offers a shrug for his indescretion. "Apparently he's told the story to a few of the ones he's trained, one of them found me alone in L.A. And I took his head. Just a pup really, but wouldn't take no for an answer, but, word's getting around and if the Janissary is still angry about his wife, he's definitely not going to forget this any time soon."

That's when with all the preamble, Byron, finally, gets to the point, "So, Mac, you still teaching?"

Connor Macleod has posed:
Leaning back against the bar, Connor lifts his glass, and takes another drink. Looking around the place, Connor nods, and shrugs. "I don't think Joe would sell for any money. Can't say ah haven't tried already. He likes tha' place for his "retirement"." Connor says that like he wants to put "air quotes" around it, but his right hand is full with the glass. "Much better than tha' west coast, that's for sure."

Connor snorts, and says, "You probably missed the whole decade, knowing you. Still into the fun stuff are ya'?" Connor looks at Byron sideways. "As for the Kurgan, I haven't seen him since then. Licking his wounds I suppose. It was a tough battle. I still have no idea how he survived. I thought I had him...and then he was gone. Hurumph."

Connor pauses, by taking another drink. "Funny tha' whole thing..." Musing to himself it seems, Connor shrugs again and takes a few moments to absorb that next bit of commenting from Byron. "A' li'l bit a' trouble. Ach." Connor smiles. "Jasnissary? Can't say tha' ya' have." He listens. shakes his head at the sleeping with the wife bit, and chuckles.

"Teaching..." Connor's smile vanishes. "Yeah...a bit. Here and there. Been hard since the last one..." From his expression, it was obvious what happened to him or her. "ANyway. Need a bit of practice do ya'?"

Byron has posed:
"Tried have you?" Byron says turning and likewise scanning the bar. "Smart man that Joe, wouldn't sell this place either, it has an energy," he says inhaling deeply. "A person could put on a killer show here," he says before offering Connor a little nod of his head. "Definitely better here, just... feels like New York."

There's a grin about the 80's, "Guilty as charged, all I remember of it is the photos of me in truly horrible clothing," he says shaking his head at the horrors of 80's fashions. "And I indulge now and again," he says of the fun stuff with a reflexive sniff. "And here I thought you were the only one of us with those sorts of tricks," he says of Kurgan's dissapearing act. "Well, let's hope neither of us run into him in some dark alley. Or maybe you, if you want a second shot at him."

There's an understanding glance from Byron at Connor's last one remark, Byron had tried his hand at teaching once and well, the less said about that the better. "Yeah, just a bit, you know me I'm a lover not a fighter Mac," a beat. "Which I concede is why I am in this mess to begin with," he adds smiling, before going more serious again, "But the man knows my usual tricks, figured I need some new ones if you're game to teach them to me."

Connor Macleod has posed:
"Yeah. I just bet...wish I could have missed the 80s as well. It was a tough time." Connor finishes off his drink, and puts the glass back on the bar. "I'd love ta' run inta' him again. Just not in a dark alley. I owe him for Ramirez, and I will pay that debt off, you can count on it." Connor says that with a lot of passion.

"Well, ah have heard all that about you. Lover not a fighter bit." Connor smiles, taking the sting out of the joke. "A can teach ya' a few tricks, of course. Anything fer an old friend..." Connor claps the man on the shoulder.

Connor then turns to leave. "...just na' all of them." With a grin, and a laugh, Connor moves to head out the door, with a final salute for Joe. "Joe. Ah'd love it if you can try harder at gettin' tha' good stuff, alright? Scotland has a score a' great scotch." Ignoring the barbs, Connor laughs.