Owner	Pose
Giles	When it comes to a man like Rupert Giles, it wouldn't be expected that he'd ever set foot in a place like Club Lux. And yet, here he is. Setting foot in exactly Club Lux. He's dressed in a dusky purple sweater with a pale brown leather coat over top of it. His pants are black, but of a material softer than denim but heavier than slacks. His shoes a loafer type in rich brown leather. Melville is not all that far from Sunnydale, and his patrol this evening had taken him rather farther afield than it usually does. To Melville. And one of the places that he sees is Club Lux. Curious, his feet take him into the club and he pauses on the upper level, looking down over the place. Nightclub of sorts? It reminds him quite a lot of the Bronze. And so he makes his way to the stairs and down, moving toward the bar itself. His eyes roam the selection of liquors.
Lucifer	Nightclub is certainly one word used to describe Lux. Sin Den is definitely another. There's not really a dry seat in the house, both bars with people enjoying drinks as well. The dance floor is lit and packed, and noises from the casino fill the air as well - when one is upstairs perhaps. Downstairs ones ears are assaulted by whatever mix the DJ is spinning that night. Lucifer is lurking. Walking through the club, mingling and greeting, stopping for a talk here and there. He'll eventually wind up at the bar on the lower floor which has a few less people than the bigger horseshoe bar upstairs, so there's a nice scattering of empty seats. Since nothing else has quite grasped his attention in the moment, he'll slide behind the bar and stop in front of Rupert, offering the man his ever-present smile while immaculately dressed in a blue three piece suit with a red handkerchief in the left breast pocket. "Interested in wetting the whistle with anything?"
Giles	Rupert Giles had done his fair share of rebelling in his day. Mostly, he's over that these days. And a lot of music that DJs play he considers noise, rather than music. That it's even slightly less crowded is one of the reasons Giles had come down here. And to get away from the racket of gambling machines that is much worse than the music being played here. He walks on up to the bar and slides onto a stool, looking over the drink choices available. His eyes alight on a specific one, and then the 'tender is there. The smile is infectious, and Rupert does have a nice smile when it appears. Which it does now, in response to the besuited man. "Glenlivet, neat, please," he says. He looks around, specifically at the architecture, as though it's either interesting or pleasing to his eyes. Or maybe both.
Lucifer	"Of course.." Lucifer turns to grab the bottle Rupert had eyed and chosen, taking it from the shelf and pouring a nice double amount (two shots) into a whiskey glass. This is then set in front of the man as Lucifer explains, "First drinks are always free. After that, if you choose, you can start a tab or pay by the drink." That smile remains, because why not, and then he proffers a small menu. "We also serve food, if you're hungry, or just enjoy all the splendors of entertainment. Club Lux welcomes you."
Giles	Rupert Giles turns back about the time the glass is sat on the counter. He stares for just a moment, clearly not having expected the first drink to be free. "Uh.." Pause. "Uh, yes. Thank you. Food. Food would be good. I don't suppose you have fish and chips with proper chips?" The small menu is accepted and skimmed over. The entertainment.. well. Giles isn't much into most of that, it would seem. But food and a drink, at least, would be nice.
Lucifer	"What kind of well respected place that serves fish and chips doesn't use proper chips when serving it?" Lucifer asks, seeming almost apalled at the thought. "Also, yes, I can surely put in an order for that for you. If you desire." A tilt of his head given, those blue eyes sparkling some, and he watches Giles for a moment. Sort of taking note of what the man seems to be interested or not interested in. Surely anyone who walks in here knows what to expect and comes for something that's piqued their interest. So he further inquires, "Just passing through on a night out?"
Giles	"Anything American?" The answer phrased as a question is immediate and without hesitation. Because it's true. The American equivalent of chips are thin crispy strips of potato. Or french fries, in their thin square tube shapes. Not proper chips more like potato wedges. Giles' blue eyes are a few shades lighter a blue than the bartenders, and the left one holds a curious brown patch on its lower left side. Rupert doesn't seem to be interested in the gambling machines. He pays no mind to the DJ. Nor to any sports screens there might be if there are any. He pays no attention at all to the dancing. No, what he's interested in is the decor and architecture. "Uh.. just passing through," he answers. "I was going for a stroll, and happened to walk past here and thought to take a look."
Lucifer	Lucifer chuckles at the quick response and nods his head. "Ahh, yes, such an unfortunate thing that. I assure you, we serve proper chips with our fish." He says this much and then puts in the order, regardless if the man across from him confirmed it was what he wanted or not. Never the less, and after a moment, he watches the man again - still ever so curious. The fact that the man is ignoring practically everything other people enjoy almost tickles Lucifer in a way. So when he admits that he was just walking by and thought he'd fancy a look into the place, Lucifer just nods. "Well, there's a lot and also not much to take in here, depending on what you fancy. I notice you're looking more at the walls and pillars than anything else on display. Sex and sin not on your list of things to track down?" He asks this with that smirk still devilishly remaining.
Giles	Rupert Giles kind of inferred it was what he wanted when he first brought it up. And he doesn't stop the bartender when the order is put in, so it must be what he wants. He lifts the glass while this happens, and sips the scotch. If there were books in here, Giles might be more interested. But there aren't. And he's not overly interested in the rest of the things here. Now, if there was to be a live music night in which people came in and played music, sort of like poetry night, he might be all over that. But not what is currently on offer. His eyes return to the other man and he shakes his head. "Not particularly," he agrees. "The decor is interesting. Turkish or Moroccan, maybe?" What he's probably interested in is if there is any magic or artifacts here. He's somewhat sensative to magic, being a warlock himself, and so is always on the hunt for interesting things of that nature.
Lucifer	"Mostly Turkish inspired, some Moroccan. You've got a good eye being able to spot such." Lucifer offers with a grin. Most books are up in the penthouse. Most anything that might be of any sort of interest to Giles is up in Lucifer's penthouse. Lucifer, himself, is someone who can cast magic, is a divine being (just not holy), and squishes all that into a mortal body so he can fit among the masses. He also, however, has an object in his pocket. To most people it's just an interesting coin. However, the coin bears the mark of Dracula, and in fact is something Lucifer can use to call the vampire to him. He never takes it from his pocket unless he has to, but it's near enough if Giles is sensitive to such a thing, he could likely sense it. Otherwise, Lucifer's probably got a big red dot on his forehead, even when he's not actively doing anything Devil-ish. "How's the Glenlivet? To your liking?"
Giles	Rupert Giles is a warlock, and he's been practicing for a long time. However... he's not the strongest out there, as far as magic is concerned. He's not nearly strong enough or sensative enough to pick up on what the bartender is. "I'm something of a historian, so I'm always interested in seeing such things." He lifts the glass again and has another sip, then lowers it to swirl the liquid with an absent sort of motion. "The Glenlivet is just as good as ever," he says. He leans forward to rest one elbow against the bar, bringing him just a touch closer to the Devil. Just close enough that his senses for magic do pick up.. something. And his eyes, curiously, fall to rest on that pocket. They remain there for only a few seconds, but who looks at pockets? Even for a few seconds. Giles' eyes move on, then, going back to looking over the bar.
Lucifer	"Oh. Are you? Well there's not a lot of history in these walls aside from where their inspiration came from. If you want *real* history..." Lucifer shrugs. "I might be persuaded to show you a thing or few." That smirk ever present and then he fixes himself a glass of the same whiskey brand that Giles is drinking, lifting his glass in a 'toast' motion before taking a sip. "I am, however, forgetting my manners..." Then he offers his hand. "Lucifer Morningstar. Owner and proprieter of Club Lux." Introducing himself, finally, which is something he does...on occasion. Normally when dealing with VIP clients or live acts, but something tells him to introduce himself to the man in front of him. Perhaps see how he reacts. Likely the way most others do, 'hell of a name!'...
Giles	Rupert Giles lifts his glass in reply to the toast. "It would be rare indeed for me to turn down a chance to see *real* history," he says, putting the same inflection on 'real' that the other man had. He lifts the glass and quaffs enough of a drink to make the toast worth it. Giles switches the glass to his left hand and places his right into Lucifer's. "Rupert Giles," he says. Apparently, the Watcher isn't going to hold Lucifer's name against him. He can't help what his parents named him, afterall. "Owner and proprieter of the Magic Box." There's no hesitation at all to the reply introduction. "I do adore the decor," he says. Clearly, unphased by the fact that Lucifer is the owner of this place. No matter how much more posh it is than Giles' business. The Magic Box is more his size. And style!
Lucifer	"I have some favored collectible pieces in my penthouse. Books as well." Lucifer doesn't hint at the fact that some of the things he owns may not be believeable. Pieces of cloth from various real persons. A piece of wood from the actual cross that Jesus was crucified on. Some rare and reputable swords. Letters. Documentations. And books. He has a whole wall of books. Still... "I've heard bits and pieces about The Magic Box and I've wanted to grace it with my presence...I shall have to actually venture out and find it now." See if it holds up to the word on the street, and perhaps see if there's anything within that he might find interesting. After another moment or so, a waitress comes by with a piping hot plate of fish and chips. Malt vinegar included.
Mercy Thompson	Outside, there's nothing weird that happens. There's nothing odd or unusual. Mercedes is simply walking along the street, heading on her way, when she gets an odd and perhaps oddly familiar feeling. It's not the first time that she's been followed, and it's unlikely to be the last time, either. She stops in front of the club, which is still open, and she lifts her right hand to brush one of her braids to her back. She takes a moment, looking around the street. With the strange feeling lingering, she steps towards the door to open it and step inside the club. Just within, Mercy pauses. It has a lot of sounds, and a lot of smells, and a lot of people. There's a moment where she glances back towards the street behind her, but then she moves to step further within the club. She definitely isn't the sort who comes in here often, and she doesn't belong. She wears a pair of tan steel-toed boots, blue jeans with a ripped knee, and a green t-shirt with a cartoon pegasus printed on the front of it. Completing the outfit is a black leather jacket. Her black hair is in braided pigtails. She starts to pick her way forward and towards the bar. Maybe her follower will be gone after a drink.
Giles	Rupert Giles is sitting at the bar in the lower area of the club, chatting amicably with Lucifer. "You're welcome to stop by the Magic Box at any time," he says. The chatting continues until his food arrives. At that point, the pair of them part. Or, rather, the club's owner departs to tend to other customers and Giles? Well, he settles down to enjoy his meal. Fish and chips, British style, with malt vinegar included. And he has a glass of Glenlivet single malt scotch whiskey. He sips from that occasionally as he eats. And he doesn't eat all of one thing then another. Nope. It's mix and match. Little bit of fish, that gets tartared. Little bit of the chips with the malt vingar. Back and forth. He seems to enjoy the food very much. And occasional reasonable sips of the whiskey. He knows how to drink it, clearly, without getting drunk in a hurry. Outside, it's late enough to be full on dark, but early enough that the club is still hopping. And the night is clear, though with all the lights the stars are washed out, all but the brightest of them. Giles has been in here for perhaps fifteen or twenty minutes now. Long enough that his scent has vanished amidst that of other people coming and going from the club. There might be a faint whiff of him. But that could be from anyone, really, and it's a faint whiff. He's dressed in a dusky purple sweater with a pale brown leather coat over top of it that hangs just below his hips. His pants are black, but of a material softer than denim but heavier than slacks. His shoes a loafer type in rich brown leather.
Lucifer	Lucifer does leave Giles to enjoy his food and drink, letting the bartender who comes after him - a skinny fellow with bubblegum pink hair, heterochromic eyes and a bright smile - what Giles is drinking specifically. Then he's gone, off to deal with other patrons. Making his rounds as he would on any given night. The man at the downstairs bar is an interesting one, but the more interesting sight comes when he reaches upstairs again. When his gaze falls upon Mercy as the woman who seems a bit out of place comes walking in. Lucifer tilts his head and then shifts to walk behind the bigger horseshoe bar, to where there's an empty space of four stools and he takes a moment to clean the spot there. Really it's to make it inviting to any guest but since Mercy seems of the mind to drink - well - a clean spot is better than no spot at all! The door is watched for a moment after, but then his attention is back to the out of place woman. Greeting her with a smile. "Well hello. Get you something from the bar?"
Mercy Thompson	There is only just a whiff to be caught of something familiar. But it is, alas, just a whiff, and though it teases her nose with its familiarity, there isn't enough of it amongst all of the other aromas here in order for her to identify it. Lifting one of her hands, she rubs her nose a little bit before lowering her hand back to her side. She maneuvers her way through the various patrons, doing what she can to not bump into anyone or be bumped. Spying the group of open stools, Mercy starts to make her way towards them, and more specifically towards one of the middle stools. Once she's reached them, she uses one of her feet to tug the stool out a bit before she settles on it, and then she gives a small nod to the fellow behind the bar. "Good evening," she offers, a small smile touching the corners of her lips. She settles her forearms to the bar in front of her, considering his offer, and then she gives a nod. "A beer, please. Whatever the best is that you have on tap," Mercy requests, idly tapping her heel against the lower rung of the stool.
Giles	Rupert Giles at least doesn't really stand out in the bar to any but those most observant. He doesn't seem drawn to anything but watching. Then again, he /is/ a Watcher. Of course, right now, he's not watching! He's finishing his food. And once he's done, Giles takes his glass in hand and finishes the liquid within. That's about a full shot in one go. The other half of the two shotter had been sipped with the meal. He sets the glass on the bar top and nods to the new bartender, indicating he'd like another. Once it's filled, and paid for, Giles rises from the stool and turns his back to the bar. He watches the crowd for a little bit and then he starts to wander, taking idle sips from his drink while he takes in the crowd. Watching for.. well. Anything interesting. Eventually, his wandering takes him along the area below the railing at about the area where the upstairs bar is. Perhaps his scent will carry now. Perhaps it won't. He's heading in the general direction of the stairs. Maybe he's looking for vampires.
Lucifer	"Certainly." Lucifer offers Mercy, turning and grabbing a frosted mug before pouring a tapped beer. Something that's a bit strong on hops, but also has a hint of citrus. It's definitely a more refreshing brew than not. Coaster, glass set on top of that he smiles. "First drinks are always on the house, then you're welcome to not drink again, but if you do, you can either pay per round, or start a tab. Up to you." He smiles that charming smile, looking even more devilish in his blue three piece with the red handkerchief in his left breast pocket. "I do hope you enjoy your night here, wherever it may take you." He's given information that Giles has paid for his tab so far and is wandering away from the bar below. How isn't important. He wonders just what the man is up to, since he was so in love with the architecture. Though his attention goes to Mercy once more. "If you're hungry, we also have a kitchen." And he produces the small menu, setting it beside her drink should she choose to look it over.
Mercy Thompson	The woman-coyote is normally able to be more observant than what her current surroundings allow her to be. There's a lot of noise, and a lot of aromas present. It makes things difficult for her, though she tries not to let it show. Her nose gives a slight twitch. Should one look close enough and notice, there's a faint smudge of what is likely some manner of car grease on her left cheek, though it's possible it might look like a bruise as well given the colour of it. One might also notice the half Native American heritage that is hers, given her particular colouring. Lifting one of her hands, she flips one of her braids to her back, a thing that she does often. Mercy watches the bartender as he gets the mug and pours the beer for her, and she gives a small nod as the drink is set in front of her. "Oh, thank you. That's... a bit unusual," Mercy says, her tone thoughtful. She reaches out her left hand to slip her fingers around the mug. Her gaze flicks lightly over him, and she tilts her head faintly to one side. "Well... hopefully home safely at the end of it," she comments quietly, which might seem a bit odd of her to say. She picks up the mug and takes a sip of the beer, savouring the flavours of it. "That's quite good, thank you," she says. She did, after all, leave the choice of which brew up to him. The familiar scent of Giles teases her nose again, and she sits up a bit, looking around some, her nose giving a slight twitch. Her nose gets easily overwhelmed with so many aromas around. She blinks as the kitchen is metioned, a bit of curiosity coming to her features as she looks back to the bartender. "Food might not be a bad idea," she comments, a bit distractedly.
Giles	Half looking more closely at the architecture, and half looking at the people. Now that his stomach is no longer complaining at him, he's curious about more than just the things that are foremost on his mind. Like his patrol. And the fact that, despite being in a club, there could very well be vampires around. And so he watches, and wanders. Curiously, he slips easily through the crowded area. And then he's on the stairs and making his way up. At the top, Giles pauses and steps off the landing. He follows the balcony railing a few steps toward the bar and then stops to lean against it with his left elbow. This puts his back toward the bar up top, and his front toward the exit. He looks around, taking in those both below and up here, though he doesn't turn around to see Mercy or Lucifer at the bar.
Lucifer	"For most places, yes, but it's a business model I've come up with and it seems to work rather well." Lucifer chimes in with a chuckle. "Oh, I'm glad you like it. It's a local brew from...Minnesota I believe? It's called Trillium. I have a friend who ships me some special." He offers when she comments on the beer itself. Watching as she looks around every so often, picking up those nose twitches. He tilts his head, curiosity getting the better of him. "Are you looking for someone? Or perhaps...hiding from someone?" Asking this gently, not to loud or soft. He's also noted heritage, and other small and large things cause that's what Lucifer does. He's distracted, momentarily, when Giles comes back up to the top floor. A tilt of his head the other way as he watches the man who watches the patrons of his bar. Even if there was a vampire or few among the crowd - well - be hard pressed to get them to give themselves up. Might even be a demon or two lurking. One never knows. Still, his attention turns back to Mercy, finally, as he waits for her to answer his questions.
Mercy Thompson	It likely doesn't help that Mercy's nerves are already a bit twingy on account of having felt as though she was being followed outside. It was that feeling which had caused her to come in here to start with. There were people here, and it would be safe. Or at least, safer than out on the streets. She takes another sip of the beer, and then her tongue flicks out to damp her lips. "It makes a certain amount of sense. And usually once folks have had one drink then they're more than likely to stay for another," Mercy says, her tone thoughtful. "Trillium? I've never tried it before," she comments, looking to the beer in her glass before she takes another drink from it. One of her eyebrows quirks up at his questions, and she tilts her head slightly to one side, watching him for a long and quiet moment. "I... thought I saw someone I know," she says. It's a statement that's mostly true, at least. Then she gives a small shake of her head. "I'm sure it was nothing, really. Probably just an overactive imagination, on my part. I thought I was being followed outside," she adds, lifting one of her shoulders in a small dismissive shrug.
Giles	Whatever it is that Giles is watching for, he doesn't find it. Or them. Eventually he turns around and looks in the other way. Though again, much as he had been below, his eyes are mostly on the arcitecture. He hadn't looked as much when he'd been up here before, and his eyes slide past people. He doesn't even look at the bar. Not just yet. What he does do is straighten up before walking slowly. Away from the railing, along the walkway. He's going somewhat toward the bar, but his end destination seems to be the side opposite from where Mercy and Lucifer happen to be chatting. He's tall enough at six foot one that she should be able to easily catch a glimpse of him on the other side of it. And then, as he's on the other side of the bar from Mercy and Lucifer, right under one of the vents. And his scent comes strongly to Mercy... from the vent above her.
Lucifer	Lucifer nods. "Quite right. That's the idea behind it anyway, and it seems to work. I do enough business that a few people only having one drink doesn't hurt me in the long run." This said and then he frowns. "Well. I do hope it was just an overactive imagination...but if you do notice anyone in this bar that doesn't settle right with you...let me know. If I'm not readily visible, let someone know and they'll tell me." Speaking of, his head tilts as a bartender comes over to whisper something. He grunts. "Like that. If you'll pardon me. My barkeeps will take care of you...but I must attend something..." And just like that, he's gone.
Mercy Thompson	There's a fidget of one of her feet against the lower rung of the stool that she sits on, and Mercy glances along the length of the bar to one side of her. Other than the odd fidget of her foot (no doubt from her seses beig so overwhelmed and of limited use to her here), she seems relatively at ease and comfortable. One of her eyebrows quirks up slightly, and she gives a small shake of her head. "Whoever... whatever... was following me, it didn't come in here after me. I will let you know, though... thank you," she says, giving a small nod to the barkeeper. And then, he's gone to see about business of a different sort. As that so-familiar scent is brought to her nose, she half closes her eyes for a moment and does little other than simply breathe it in. This is no teasing whiff, no ghost of scent that there's and gone without him being seen -- this is well and truly -him-. A smile turns up the corners of her lips, and there's a brightness in the warm brown shade of her eyes. She picks up her beer and takes a moment to look more closely, her nose giving a little twitch. The scent of him is strongest from the vent above her, but she catches whispers of it on the air as well, and a glimpse of him just there. She rises from her stool, and then she picks her way over to him, to come up to stand behind him. Once she reaches him, she lifts a hand to lightly touch his arm near to the elbow. "Can I buy you another?"
Giles	That oh so familiar scent indeed. And then she sees him. It's Giles alright. In the flesh. And as she gets closer, she'll scent the scotch whiskey from both the glass and on his breath as he takes a deep one and lets it out through his mouth. His back is to her when she reaches him, and so Giles doesn't see Mercy coming at all. That touch to his elbow? Giles was not expecting it. He jumps with a half breathed half whispered, "Geeze." When that happens, a person's hands tend to go up as well. Up go the hands. Flying goes the glass, still half full of scotch whiskey. The liquid comes tumbling out, half on Giles, and the rest trailing after the glass as it goes sailing through the air. In the direction of the bar. The glass bounces on the bar top. Giles winces, the sound somehow carrying through the club, cutting through the din of voices. It bounces on behind the bar and lands on the ground. A single crack trails up one side. Breathing hard, Giles looks to Mercy, his eyes just a little wide. "Hu.. uh.. heh." Yeah. She scared the talky talky right out of him.
Lucifer	The sound may carry, but it doesn't seem to really stop anyone from their good times. A few paused conversations, but nothing that brings the entire club to silence. In a breath, Lucifer appears, and he kneels down to pick up the broken glass, looking it over a moment before he glances back to Giles and Mercy. His ever-present smirk still present as he looks once more to the glass and back before, "I take it you two know each other, but presences were...unexpected?" Asking that and then he tosses the glass into a container which holds other misshapen pieces of mixed glassware. What he does with *that* pile is anyone's guess. A replacement glass of the amber liquid is placed in front of Giles before the man can even perhaps think to request it.
Mercy Thompson	Seeing him here was an unexpected surprise for Mercy. She can easily smell the scotch whiskey both from his glass and his breath with that one exhaled so close on the heels of the drink recently taken. When he jumps at the touch to his arm, she gives a little squeak of sound. She hadn't expected that, although she should have -- he doesn't have her senses. She manages somehow not to spill her beer, at least, though she does hastily retreat her hand when the glass went flying. And she can't help but to blink and stare at the path that the glass takes. One of her eyebrows quirks upward, her cheeks flush with colour and she ducks her chin to look to him through her lashes. "Umm... I'm sorry," she says softly, her tone sincere and sheepish and apologetic. She reaches out a hand to attempt to catch one of his, if he'll let her. "I didn't mean to startle you," she adds, the apologetic tone returning. She didn't. "I'll buy you another drink, if you want," she offers. She owes him that much for the one that went flying all over everywhere. Then the barkeeper is there, so quickly, to pluck up the broken glass. Mercy turns her gaze to him, and she gives a small nod. "We know each other, yes," she affirms, a smile tugging her lips. She looks over to Giles, her gaze lingering on him, and she shakes her head. "Unexpected, yes," she adds. She hadn't expected to find him here.
Giles	Rupert Giles can only assume the broken or misshapen pieces of glass get recycled into new pieces of glass that aren't broken or misshapen. And then there's a glass in front of him, and he nods his thanks Lucifer for replacing it. He reaches for it, lifts it, and brings it to his mouth to drink half of it in one go. He doesn't have Mercy's senses, no. And more, Mercy knows he startles when something is unexpected or he's on the alert. He closes his eyes for a moment, concentrating on breathing and getting his heart back down where it belongs and out of his throat. "It's okay," says Giles, opening his eyes again to look at Mercy. "Fresh drink already supplied. I wasn't expecting you here." Obviously! He turns to Lucifer and inclines his head. "Thank you, Mister Morningstar." He nods at the question. "Yes, we know each other. And very unexpected." He turns to Mercy with a warm little smile. "Unexpected, but pleasant, now that she's no longer trying to scare my wits into retreat." He still hasn't pulled his hand away, and gives Mercy's a little squeeze now.
Mercy Thompson	There's a smile and a small nod that Mercy gives to the barkeeper when he replaces Giles's drink for him. And she turns her gaze back to Giles, looking to him through her lashes. She hadn't intended to startle the bejeebers out of him, and it's something that she will have to try to be more aware of going forward. Mercy can hear his heart beating, this close to him, even over the other noises here. When he offers reassurance, she moves closer to him, a slightly shuffled step. And a smile curls at the corners of her lips as she gives a nod. "So I see. And I wasn't expecting you here, either. I'm glad that you're here, though," she says softly, a warm smile turning up the corners of her lips. She briefly bites her lower lip, her fingers giving his a soft squeeze and staying paired to his. "I didn't mean to scare your wits. Or any other part of you," she comments. She lifts her beer then, taking a sip of it. And she leans just a little bit against him. "I was going to call you. After I had a drink," she says quietly, her brow wrinkling.
Giles	That heart is beating. Nice and even, but fast. Faster than it would normally because of the scare. But it's easing down back to normal at a steady rate as he calms. As the adrenaline eases off. As she leans against him, Giles slips his right arm around her. "Oh? You were going to call me? Why? Is everything alright?" He lifts his glass and has another drink of it, but this one is sipped rather than glugged down like the last had been. "Have you eaten? The food here's quite delicious. They have proper British fish and chips." He glances around, looking for anything or anyone that might seem out of place. Something that might explain why she'd meant to call him.
Mercy Thompson	With his arm around her, she seems to relax, and there's a bleeding away of tension from her simply at him being closer to her. "Mmhmm, I was going to, but now I don't have to because you're already here," Mercy says softly, giving a small nod. She's quiet a moment, breathing in the scent of him and half closing her eyes as she does. "I... don't know," she answers, a bit uncertainly. "I was walking along the street outside, and I got a feeling like I was being followed. I didn't see anyone, or anything. But the feeling wouldn't go away. This was open, so I ducked inside. I thought it would be safe, because there were people and such," she explains in a soft tone. "No one followed me in. I don't know if they saw me duck in here or not, if whoever or whatever is waiting outside for me to leave. But it makes me feel... uncomfortable," she adds, her brow wrinkling a little bit. Her tongue flicks out to lightly brush her lips, and then she gives a little shake of her head. "I haven't eaten, no. But now that you mention food, I could eat," she says, a smile tugging her lips. "Nothing seems 'off', in here," she adds. She hasn't smelled or heard anything out of the ordinary here, not that she has a sense of what's ordinary for here.