Owner	Pose
Spike	Is that Billy Idol? That one never gets old. Too bad Spike is far older than most. Add to the fact that Billy stole his look and it's no wonder Spike wants to choke a person everytime they bring it up. Regardless he lights a cigarette, sneers at the door man, and walks into the bar to have a look around the place that is new to him.
Garth	One can be immune to this or that, but New York in the Summertime sucks for a lot of people. It is relatively hot and it is humid as anything. To Garth, it is a delight. The worst part of anything is that he ahs to wear all these damn clothes. Still, he wears them. He's got on a faded old t shirt stretched over his chest. He is wearing a white sleeved white oxford with a tie that is artfully in disarray, yanked and pulled open partially. The top two buttons are also open, revealing the white collar of an old but bright white A-shirt underneath.     His slacks were likely pressed when he put them on earlier, but the press has loosened in the interim. His belt is plain black leather and with a simple metal buckle. His shoes are also plain black leather. He looks a little uncomfortable as he settles at the bar. A clever eye might watch him fumble, reaching at his front right pocket area for his wallet and finding nothing. He slides his hand around to the back and plucks an ugly old red canvas wallet held together by duct tape. The wallet is relatively thick, and he plucks a couple of twenties from it and stuffs them in his front pocket before putting the ratty wallet back into his trousers.     After making eye contact with the bartender, he holds up the pinkie and ring finger on his left hand. "Two Gin and tonics. Lemon not lime." He looks over the shelf. "Premium." He puts a twenty down in front of him. Looking a bit like a fish out of water, Garth dips his eyes and looks about the bar. His right-hand strays to pull at his tie.
Petra	At least a bright white locks weren't the onle ones in the bar tonight, although Petra tended to wear it a -little- differently. Long ashen locks hang free down her back to the moment, her form wrapped in simple black denim jeans and an unzipped black leather jacket over a deep blue top. There had been hunts, study and all sorts of other things for the witch...but tonight she was just out for a drink! Making her way towards the counter, the young woman lifted a hand to try and raw the attention of the bartender herself while she leaned her hip against the siding.
Spike	Walking towards the bar, Spike eyes the crowd. Those nearest him get more than a passing glance, but not much more. Seems he isn't in the most cordial of moods right now, but that's what alcohol is made for right?      He nods to the bartender when his turn comes along, ordering a double. He leans against the bar, the long black coat not seeming to bother him in the heat. Basic black tshirt and blue jeans finish the look along with a pair of heavy black combat style boots.
Garth	The erstwhile Atlantean actually recognizes Billy Idol. Garth listens to a lot of 80's music. The other man draws his violet eyes. Recognition dawns and he bobs his head a couple of times. "Dancing with myself. Neat." His voice is low and soft, but his smile is genuine. Yes, neat.     His eyes drift to the white locks nearby. Eyes linger on her for a moment or two longer before he sidesteps a little to one side. He otherwise waits. Trying to be helpful. "She should be back in a minute or two." Garth mumbles to Petra. "It can't take too long to make a couple of gin and tonics." His shrug is awkward and slightly exaggerated as if he is uncomfortable. About that time, his two drinks arrive and he plucks them both up and two-fists it, one in each hand.
Petra	"I suppose not," Petra speaks, turning back towards the voice addressing her and spotting Garth. A little shrug of her own shoulders, she's quick to flag down the bartender and lean forward to request her own drink. A cocktail, a martini even, although a rather simple one. She needed something sweet, and a little vodka with chocolate liquer would fit the bill. A glance towards Spike, there is indeed a little curious blink. She might look like she was born -after- the eighties after all, but the centuries-old girl had indeed seen the height of the music. "Nice coat." Drink in hand, the woman takes the first sip and leans by the counter and glances over the gathering before looking towards Garth. "Out of towner, huh?"
Spike	Once he gets his drink, Spike turns back towards the crowd. He takes a drag of from his cigarette and exhales. He looks at the Atlantean and looks like maybe he's going to tell him off about the comment, but he takes a deep breath and exhales. No sense getting into it again. He takes another drag and tries to not pay attention.      When Petra compliments his coat he turns his attention to her. A shallow drink and then he nods to her,"Thanks. Somebody with taste and appreciation for the classics." When she turns her attention turns from him he turns his gaze to people watching.
Garth	"Sort of?" Garth hems his answer. "I spent a lot of time in Nassau county, but no. I'm not exactly from hereabouts. This is about as close as I get to a home away from home though?" Acutely aware he has provided a non-answer, Garth gestures with his left hand, as if uncertain. "Family is in government work, so you know? Roots can be hard to settle." He regards her with his purple eyes, tossing his black hair out of his face in a little head toss. "How about you?" You don't sound like a New Yorker." Feeling like a fish out of water, Garth places his elbow on the bar top. It allows him to settle one of the beverages there. "Excuse me. I am absolutely parched." He then takes a long swallow from the G&T, wrinkling his nose just a little at the botanicals. He twitches an eyebrow, then takes another long swallow making a sizable dent in the beverage. His chest rises and then falls in a quick breath. He gives another nod at Spike, failing to read the body language cue.
Petra	Petra's own accent certainly didn't exactly mark her as a local, noticably 'Queen's English' enough to suggest she was either a holiday-maker or immigrant of some sort, but she seemed comfortable enough. Spike's thanks get a little shrug of her shoulders, the ashen-haired woman giving a little shrug. "I travel a bit," she answers with a shrug, another sip of her own drink before she gives a little laugh. "But a bar is a bar anywhere in the world, and I felt like a night out..."
Spike	The Cockney accent in Spike's voice is impossible to miss. He doesn't try to hide it either. There is a smirk as he catches her accent and raises his glass towards her,"A long way from home love." he comments. To some it might have been a question, but this time not so much.      He nods as draws from his cigarette. He exhales up into the air and adds,"You aren't wrong about that. Sometimes the one thing that gets a bloke through is the nearest pub."
Garth	As much as Garth would love to impress both the white haired lady and Billy Idol with his knowledge of Atlantean bars and the Tritonian girls who tend to work there, Garth just nods his head. "Alcohol is alcohol, and people tend to drink for the same reasons. Lower an inhibition. Meet a new friend. Or just relieve a little stress." He pauses. "Or rehydrate a little."     Socially floundering, he just nods his head and finishes off the one G&T. He looks visibly refreshed, his shoulders easing a little and his smile remaining slight and uncomfortable. "Besides, it's a Friday and the weekend beckons."
Petra	A -very- long way, but she shrugs her shoulders with a little laugh back to Spike. "World seems to get smaller every day, and everywhere is home if you enjoy it enough. Or at least, close as it can come." Gath's words have a little chuckle returned, a little lift of her glass before she shrugs. "I can drink to that."
Spike	Spike is...well Spike. If you throw one down the center of the plate, he's going to swing for the fences. He looks at the amber liquid in the glass, swirling it a few times,"Alcohol for rehydration?" Some people.      He nods towards Petra and agrees,"Seems like just yesterday you had to take a boat for days to get anywhere." Sarcasm isn't as thick there. For him it might actually seem like yesterday. He raises his glass towards her and takes a drink again, cigarette temporarily forgotten.
Garth	Petra did not maybe mean to make Garth think with that, but he gives a thoughtful nod. "Wherever you go, there you are." He agrees, lifting his remaining glass in a little toast as well. He regards Spike. "Well, maybe not the alcohol?" Garth says cheeks flushing a little. "That is what the tonic is for." That comes out more naturally.     Garth leans more heavily on his elbow as he considers his next words. "I have only been to England a couple of times, and never for long enough to soak in any of the culture. How would you compare New York, to say, London? New York seems to be in love with reinventing itself. Nothing remains the same for too long. Sure, the museums and the institutions remain, but everyone here is always in a rush, pressing from one function to another with no joy in the journey from one moment to the next. It seems like a horrible way to live to me." His shrug is more natural. "Less living and more enduring or simply existing."