Owner	Pose
Spike	Willy's Place, previously Willy's Bar, before the renovations after the last time the bar was wrecked. Any seedy dive bar catering to the underworld was bound to endure some level of repeat conflict. But tonight, well, things were looking good. Patrons were paying, tipping well, and no one had gotten into anything that Willy would consider a fight. Spike was there, so it was quieter than usual. It was a double edged sword. Most wanted to avoid Spike, so conflict was low, but so was patronage. He was currently sat at a table, a bowl of spicy curly fries, and was watching a soccer game on the television. With the time difference, it was probably a live game. Taking a sip of his beer, he cheered as a team in red scored a goal against a team in blue. There were a handful of others, most passing for human, though one or two didn't. The bartender, Willy, was behind the bar, cleaning glasses, a towel draped over one shoulder, and was serving those who wanted. There seemed to be some issue with the kitchen though, as a Croatian sounding guy yelled back at Willy, talking about how he's got to upgrade the back as well as the front, or the chef will quit.
Petra	Passing for human...in some ways Petra had been doing just that. It had been a long time since the sorceress had felt human after all. Still she did her best...and that sometimes meant just enjoying her long life where she could. With her hair glamoured raven black and her clothing a simple black jacket unzipped over a tank top and a pair of jeans while she moves onwards and into the bar with a sigh as the scent of fried food and beer catches her nose.
Spike	Spike looked up from his position at his table, registering the new arrival. He would do that whenever someone came in, out, or otherwise caught one of his senses. He wasn't foolish. Most people here wanted to kill him, or were more than willing to sell him to someone who did. Still, they had the Manchester United matches, the food was good, and the beer was cheap. What more could he ask for. Willy on the other hand had a bar to run, even if he insisted it was now called Willy's Place, "hello friend, what can I get for you?"
Petra	"Fries," Petra answers lightly, her accented tones carrying that 'Queen's English' even as she moves forwards. "And a cider, if you have it." Not exactly the most high-class of meals for the sorceress, after all one could get sick of high society and wine while playing the part of some socialite.
Spike	"Coming right up, little lady," came from Willy, who put in the order for a plate of French fries. Not the most profitable of meals, "you sure you don't want a burger, steak, or something to go with the fries?" He would get the cider from a fridge, it came in a bottle, and that would be served to wherever she decided to sit. Of course, he would ask for money up front. There wasn't really wait staff, but he was going out of his way to help her. Meanwhile, Spike continued to watch his game, observing the patrons, and munching on his own spicy curly fries. They were so much better than the regular ones in his view.
Petra	"It's fine to start," Petra offers lightly, "but if you have some of the...that!" she begins, pausing to point at the basket that was Spike's own. "Those ones, that would be even better." A nod of thanks to Spike and his convenient example, she does tilt her head as she looks up at the TV screen and raises an eyebrow. "I'm suprised to see a bar where they're showing football over...well, American footbal," she muses as she slips to settle herself on a seat at the bar.
Spike	Willy rolled his eyes, turning around, and called towards the back, "Maciek, nix the French fries, they're now spicy curly fries!" This led to some swearing in a language that most did not know. Spike smiled at the visible frustration on Willy's face, and the fact that he was out the cost of a basket of fries if no one ordered regular soon. "At this time of day, there's no American football being played. Five hour time difference, luv."
Petra	A little soft 'Ah' and she shrugs her shoulders at that, leaning against the counter and looking up at the television in consideration. "That does not seem to stop them in most cases, reruns and the like." She muses before glancing down and raising an eyebrow with a quirk of her painted lips. "Nice coat."
Spike	"Well, there's that, and Willy knows I'd rip his throat out if he tried to change the channel during the match." Even if Willy were mostly out of earshot, he turned around at that exact moment, and seemed to shiver. "Did anybody else get a cold chill down their back, just now?" Asked the owner. At the mention of his coat, Spike smiled, "thanks, I got it in New York." Which was true, but only part of the story.
Petra	There was more to the story, certainly, but Petra was hardly psychic enough to know or ask. Still, the Sorceress seems to move on with a little chuckle at the comment. Yeah, that seems about right given how she'd seen other supporters react. "Petra," she offers, giving her name even as her gaze moves to the screen once more.
Spike	"Spike," he replied back, without missing a beat. Though anything further was broken up by Willy coming by with the plate of spicy curly fries. "Here you go, miss." He would set a condiment tray down, with ketchup, mayo, mustard, brown sauce, barbecue sauce, and Szechuan sauce. There were also napkins, salt, and pepper, as usual. And just then, Spike's team scored another goal, and he pumped his fist in celebration, "back of the net!"