He takes the stir-stick with a smile and nod of appreciationg, stirring the steaming contents of the styrofoam cup with a thoughtful expression, "I am sure you'll be pleased to know that this is the first place I stopped on my way into town... I just got here tonight..." He smiles, "Nothing but the clothes on my back and those in my pack."

He takes a sip of the coffee. It was hot, fortunately. It'd be a late night... He'd have to contact Gary sometime around mid-day tomorrow, for he hadn't been given a specific time... He'd get him the grail, as was promised. As soon as he touched the photograph he knew what to do and when to do it... He still had a good hour to burn.

Bouncer. Heh, that was funny. I get bounced from more clubs then I, would, never mind... hand hurt. Bitch. Wait, don’t say that, it’s not poooolite. Bitch. Bitch. Bitch. Bitch. Bitch. Bitch. Bitch. Take THAT other side of my brain… Wait, yes. Assaulting a police officer now? Yay?

”No, I don’t work here. I’m a police officer, and I can arrest you for assaulting me… now, doesn’t THAT sound fun?” He grinned, raised an eyebrow, slightly scarred from the previous piercing, he head to take it out and let it heal, Banks told him to. Banks was frightening. Very frightening. Wait, he was arresting some one? Or at least threatening? Hm, yes, the bitch who slapped him. Bitchity bitch bitch, hey that could be a new song.. Nah, it kind of sucked.

Yep, arresting. He had taken his hand back and folded his arms across his chest. His hand still kinda stung, it didn’t think anyone would overeating THAT much. And she called him and ass. That hurt. Bitch. Truly, he wouldn’t have believed he was a police officer, his hair was grungy, he sported torn jeans and a fading band shirt, he also had two drumsticks tucked into the back pocket off his jeans. He had his badge their too, or something like that. Mm, tired, needed caffeine…. Wait, arresting or threatening… one of those too.

'Your most valuable possession is your identity.' the words passed quietly through Damien's mind as he folded his wallet, nodding to the bouncer at the door and entering the "Faded" nightclub.

Bass. Throbbing, mind-numbing bass set against the harsh tones of a violently horrible singer, badly tuned guitar and off-beat drums... Finally. The time to think.

Damien took a seat at a vacant table and hoisted his backpack onto the table in front of him. He sighs at what he has left as it's contents... A day's worth of food, some extra ammunition. The thought crosses his mind that the bouncer didn't check him for weapons... He was beginning to like this town already.

He sighs some, scratching the back of his neck. He'd need to find work soon... money was one of the other commodities he was in short supply of. He rubs his eyes, the "music" in the background drowning out the other bits of conversation in the room.

It would soon be time to find someone to work for... someone who would have a use for his specific... Talents...

And a young woman approaches his table. Bussiness, no pleassure. She looks just barely old enough to be present in he bar with her green eyes, youthful face, and long, high blonde ponytail. Her clothing consited of camiflague pants and boots, worn in an army style, and a pink top. Over the front a white apron baring the purple flashy word 'faded' on the front, hung around her neck, untied behinde her waist. She carried a try at her side and a notpad. Pulling an ink pin from her ponytail and prepared to write.

It was a busy night, an annoying job, and tiresome, givin the time of night she would be getting off. Still, she appeared cheerful. "Hello. I'm Seraphine, can I get you anyhing sir?" she asked this with a praticed speed, jus slow enough to be understood. She forced a smile, looking him over. Ugh. The hundreth coustomer, or bar-hopper, she'd served in the past hour. She looked over the backpack with him and a glimmer of a though that maybe he was attending night school over at...er..what was that place called again...Keaton. That was it.

Faded reminded Gary of his father, not because of how it was run or the decor, but the fact that the old man had usually visited the prestigious club every Friday night with his poker pals and bosom buddies. Gary despised the man and therefore despised the place, but he did visit occasionally. It was the norm in a break from the super natural. Gary sometimes needed a reminder that he was an ordinary person and shouldn't get too ahead of himself. It was hard and bothersome, but being a business man he had a knack for rolling with the punches, physically and figuratively.

Upon entering the club he searched about for a moment, trying to find an empty table or bar stool. The man hated standing around when there was no need for it. He also hated having his things stolen and ran a hand through his thick, brown hair. Some teenage hoodlum had swiped his fedora and he'd been in a slightly sour mood ever since he had discovered it missing. Those damn kids. He left his taupe, raincoat with the coat check and walked further into the club, cringing at the live entertainment. Bullshit, all of it.

Gary never found his empty table or bar stool, the club was hopping unfortunately. He did, however, spot a young fellow sitting by his lonesome speaking to one of the waitresses on duty. The vacant seat was tempting and Gary was not shy, not shy at all. He approached at a quick pace and placed a hand on the back of the chair he had his eye on. Excusing himself to the waitress who, he noted, was quite a fine looking young lady, he continued to the other man.

"This seat taken?"

He is awakened from his reverie with the words of the waitress. He glances up, his eyes dark though a smile upon his youthful visage masks his grim situation. "Ah... Might I just get a glass of water?... There's no "drink-minimum" here is there?" He asks with an intelligent tone to his voice. In his mind he is running over the thin few bills occupying his wallet, not particularily wanting to part with it unless necessary.

She smiled politly at the young man, he appeared tired in her eyes. Pitty. He was far too young to be so tired, just as she was far too young to be so stressed all the time. She nodded, not bothering to jot down water on her notepad.

"Water it is," she replied. Now, eaither he's not a drinker, she assumed to herself, or he's waiting for someone before he starts to drink, a lady no doubt, or he hasn't the money. That was a wide range of possibilities but she'd slim it down. This was the only thing that offered her entertainment throughout the night, seeing as the 'live entertainment', was not her style.

The other man had approached and she stepped aside to face him now. "Good evening," she said after he'd excused himself. "I'm Seraphine, can I get you anything?" Again, that practiced line was spoken with ease.

He gives a soft nod to the waitress as he confirms his pitiful order. He decided he'd leave the young woman a nice tip before he left, in payment for his lack of anything substantial to order.

The question from the newest arrival at his table nearly startled him, but not visibly so. Damien looked up further at the large, suited man looming over the empty chair of his table. He shakes his head, "No Sir." is his reply.

He studies this man. An interesting character he was. Large nose, squinting eyes... Could be my grandfather if he were a little older... Damien thinks to himself, though not meaning it in an offending nature.

Damien tilts back in his seat some, not sure what to make of the fellow. Was he here waiting for friends? Perhaps more... Perhaps he could become a viable target... He thinks again...

A youth enters this club, slowly. She made her over to the bar, taking a seat. Her left hand ran through her black hair. It fell upon her shoulders, like rain, straight as pins. Her arms came down and landed upon the bar surface. The cold surface sent shivers up her spine. She tapped her long, black nails, onto the bar top. Waiting to get served for a drink. Her hazel eyes wandered about, while drew attention upon the crowd.

Cocking an eyebrow, as she titled her head at Damien. She observed his movements, carefully. Shaking her head, she rolled her eyes. What was she doing? Her mother told her never to stare...but what did that bitch know?

"Can I please can some service here?!?" Jamie yelled loudly, leaning against the bar.

She smiled slightly at Damien, then observed the older man. He wore a suit, and he was slightly aged, it didn't look as if he belonged in a bar. Probably meeting a friend, or here on bussiness, she assumed.

"Can I please can some service here?!?"

Seraphine helded up one hand, the wrist was adorned by brightly colored bracelets and beads, and called over the music and noise from the crowd.

"Yes, one moment please, ma'am." She gave a friendly smile as she looked the young woman over. Now theres a girl she could relate to probably better then most people in he bar. Her own hair would've been black long ago, if it weren't for the fact that her father and sevral of her brother's hair was black. She had her mothers hair, the only living symbol her mother had ever existed. Then she averted her eyes back to the man, awaiting his order.

"Sleeman, cold, please, thanks," Gary's voice was deep, his words precise and after he had given his order, he sat down in the once empty seat and gave a great sigh. Yeah, sure, he was incredibly out of place. The multitude of youngsters in the bar that particular evening was beginning to irritate him at a great length, but he wasn't there to be bothered by kids. Not at all, he was there for nostalgia's sake and as much as nostalgia made you want to scream and toss it out the window, some people just couldn't live without it. Gary being one of them.

"Clubs aren't fun alone kid, especially at your age, you meeting someone?" Gary inquired for the sake of making conversation. He wasn't planning on staying long, he had other business to attend to.

(Random Multiple invitations, so, I pass)
Well, he probably didn’t look very professional, he was wearing his old Doors shirt, the one with Jim Morrison passed out and slightly cracking chorus of ‘People are Strange’ on the back, and a pair of faded and ripped jeans. His hair had grown some, resuming it’s greasy, shaggy, grungy look, falling in front of his hazel eyes giving him the appearance that was beyond him to why women would notice him, but they usual did. Chick dig guys in bands, and Richard’s band had just stopped playing, for now anyway, most of them would return in about an hour, completely smashed and ready for another

She looked to young, way to young, well, nothing wrong with just checking to make sure. He approached her and laid a hand on Jamie’s shoulder.

”Excuse me ma’am,” he had to shout even though he was close, just to be heard of the new band playing, “May I see some identification?”

Damien zips his backpack and slides it off the table, putting it on the floor between his feet. No one in this town had tried to hold conversation with him this readily before. His appearance usually hindered the friendly sort of conversation that people regularly enjoyed. A kid in chains, belts, slackened straps and completely black clothing was not the type to be brought home to meet the folks, so to speak.

"No, not meeting anyone... But I could ask the same question of you Sir. I mean you no offence, but you don't seem like the type for this place." He says with a volume loud enough to be heard over the music and glancing at some of the under-dressed, over-active young adults on the dance-floor. "Though, I am still hopeful you're not going to ask me to dance with you." He gives a bit of a smile, able to tell the man isn't like that, simply joking to keep things going. Damien still needed work, and whether he was going to end up robbing this man blind or being taken under his wing didn't matter at the moment, all that mattered was keeping him from leaving now that he was here.

She smiled again, a bright elcoming smile. "Sleeman it is," she repeated he order as she jotted down he ords 'slee/cold'. She smiled and turned back to the younger of the two. "I'll be right back with your orders gentlemen." She turned and walked, rather quickly away. Her sudden speed had been caused by the noting that the band that had previously played had just left the stage. That usually ment they needed their share of drinks at this point.

She rounded the bar and ripped off the paper and handed it to the present bartender. He began to prepare the Sleeman as she pulled out a bottle of water and a empty cup while looking at the young woman and the band member asking for Identification. "Can I get you anything?" she asked the band player, putting the young woman off until she could produce identification. Now that she was closer, the woman did look rather young. She wiped the glass out with a napkin and filled it with ice, then stopped and waited for the sleeman order and the band members reply.

Chains, mohawks, braided beards, Gary had seen it all and he knew that teenage fashion worked in circles. Such things would disappear in several years only to reappear fifty years later. He felt old when things like this crossed his mind and he absolutely despised feeling old, almost as much as he despised his deceased father. Almost. Leaning back in his chair, he regarded Damien with a smirk and a bit of a chuckle. The kid had a sense of humour, the thirty-two year old could appreciate that. Especially in this day and age. A healthy sense of humour was important in the waist-deep shit society made the public wade through day after day.

"Honestly, I'm not the type for any place, I don't have a type. Studies have shown that types are hazardous to your health, they cause cancer if you pay too much attention to them," Gary explained, speaking as though he were some fucked up scientist who had done too many studies on the subject. In his opinion, too many things caused cancer and it couldn't be true in the end. Magic was the only thing that made sense, unfortunately, and even that was unpredictable.

Damien smiles, he liked this guy... Alright, so maybe he wouldn't be parting the man with his wallet tonight. He leans forward in his seat with his right hand extended, "Damien Xiang, Sir." He says, "Careful though, I heard another study about hand-shaking causing heart-disease... but Life's a risk anyhow, isn't it..?"

The second order was prepared and she sighed, waiting for the young lady to produce ID so that both she and that band member could get on with their night. She exused herself. "I'll be right back, I'll take your orders in a moment." She excused herself with a smile and took the glass of ice, bottled water, and the Sleeman and lef the bar, making her way back through the crowd to the table.

"A sleeman," she said, setting the sleeman down in front of the older man, "cold," she added pointedly, smileing. "And," she set the cup down then the bottled water. "water, assuming you wanted ice."

He smiles as the waitress returned, giving a polite nod, "Thank you m'dear, ice is exactly what i was hoping for." He says, perhaps she would find this a strange answer, but he smiles anyway. "Much appreciated."

He looks back to the man who's hand he was ready to shake, waiting until he is settled with his draft before attempting it again.

Jamie's eyes landed on Seraphine. She noded, giving her a smile back. Jamie took note that Seraphine was busy at the moment. Leaning into the chair, she got comfortable. Thinking it maybe a while before she finally got her order, she didn't mind. The waitress seemed like a warm, caring girl.

Jamie's ears picked up the male voice. Startled by the touch of someones hand on her shoulder, she jumped. Turning her head to the left, staring at the male. Her right hand immediately slapped onto the males wrist. She gave his wrist a tight jolt, before pushing it away from her shoulder. She let go of his wrist, while her eyes narrowed, glaring.

"Don't touch me again ass!" Jamie yelled loudly once more. Her brow furrowed at this stranger. "Who the hell are you to ask for my identification? Are you a bouncer or someone who works here?" she hissed at him. Her voice was cold, and sharp.

Jamie stood to her feet once again. Her silver chains, which laced her baggy, black jeans, clanged together. She adjusted long black sleeves, which covered her slender arms. Her hands clenched into fists, as she brought them in front of her chest. Her legs apart and bent slightly, ready to pounce.

Gary watched with a lazy sort of smile as the lovely waitress placed the tall bottle of ice cold beer on the table in front of him. Yeah, sure, he'd thought about chasing younger tail, but in the end he would always be the older man who everyone else would think lesser of. He couldn't afford that, not really, not anymore. Grabbing hold of the chilled bottle for a moment, he let the frost on the outside melt in the shape of his fingers, relishing the cold feel of the glass beneath his fingers. This was what he waited for each night. Beer, ice cold, ready to be consumed.

"Thanks little lady," he said to the waitress with a small nod. He then turned his green eyes back on the young man seated across from him, extending his own hand finally to grasp Damien's in a strong shake. It was toned down obviously, the thirty-two year old had no intention of yanking the poor kid's arm out of his socket, but he always felt a need to prove his strength. As if it weren't noticeable since Gary's arms were as thick as his neck which looked as though it were just about ready to pop open the top button of his collar.

"Gary Rosencratz, it's a pleasure, and I'm sure I can afford the risk. It wouldn't be the first time."

She smiled at the younger two with there thankyou's m'dear and little lady indeed, she thought to herself through that smile. She felt the overwhelming urge to remind them what her name was, but no mater, they'd just revert to calling her little lady again in five minutes time. Instead she turned to The older of the two men, glancing breifly over her shoulder at the young girl and band member, the girl had jumped to her feet. Seraphine momentarily wondered if a bouncer was around to drang the young woman out if a fight should occur. No matter, it wasn't her problem right now. She turned her full attintion to the man now.

"would you like a glass for that?" she asked, guesturing to his bottle. It'd slipped her mind to grab a second cup. Her hair was starting to slide out of the blonde ponytail and she mentally noted that if he wanted a glass she would take a moment when in the back, to pull the waves of gold back up into the tie.

Shaking Gary's hand, he smiles, Suddenly trying to dupe a guy who could probably snap me in half doesn't seem like a wonderful idea... he muses, though his expression remains that of a polite smile. He releases his hand from the man's vice-like grip and lets it rest on the table, sighing some.

He realizes something, "Oh, Miss Seraphine?... I'm sorry, do you think i could get a bowl of peanuts here as well? I apologize for now mentioning it earlier." he gives a bit of a sheepish smile. His true motive of course was to let her know that he had surely noted her name, as he has surely noticed her...

He turns back to Gary and looks him up and down again, still trying to place this person, "So umm... What sort of work do you do Mr. Rosencratz?... If I may ask..."

"No thank you," Gary responded quickly to the waitress' offer. He spoke quickly and gave a little bit of a wave with his hand, almost dismissively. He'd gotten what he wanted and really, in truth, wasn't much of a gentleman. That was one thing he hadn't acquired from his father, the ability to act like a sleazeball on command. He studied Damien for a brief moment, trying to take a guess at how old the young man might have been. Twenty, maybe? He knew it was a lost cause, appearance were often decieving. Instead, he decided to lean back in his seat and swallow down half his bottle of Sleeman. Upon placing the bottle back on the table, he considered how he might answer the other man's question.

"Antiques dealer would be the common name for it," he informed slowly, grinning a tad at the thought that that was only the half of it. Being that he dealed with ancient and magical artifacts only, the term 'antique' seemed too cliched and over-used to label the things he dealth with. Gary could have kicked his own ass right then though. He'd forgotten the brooch in his office. Now would have been the absolute perfect opportunity to try it out, whether it be on the young man or even the lovely looking waitress. Fuck it.

She nodded at Damien's request, then as an after thought, suprised he'd bothered to throw her name in there since that wasn't very common, she corrected him. "Just Seraphine. Miss makes me sound like I'm old, or talking to a child." She smiled, then forced a smile to Mr. Gary when he'd given her that dismissive wave and was unpleasantly reminded of her father. Perish the thought.

She turned and literally stormed away from the table in pursuit of...hat was it again...oh yes, peanuts. Up behind the counter she moved away from the crowd and pulled down her hair, letting it flow down breifly before pulling it, harder and more furious then she'd meant, into a rather messy and haste ponytail.

She realized how rediculaous it looked and pulled it down again, only to give up and pull it into a lower ponytail, letting her past-waist length hair hang down and back only slightly. She picked up a bowl and filled it with nuts, while taking a deep breath to calm her sudden and almost unreasonable rage.

She returned to their table with the bowl in hand and set it down in front of Damien. "There you go sir," she said and smiled, hen reluctantly turned so she faced both of them, the rage was gone as she realized she was being rather childish, and asked, "Anything else gentlemen?"

He raises a brow at the term 'Antiques'. Again the topic of types of people came upon his mind, "'Common name'?" He repeats, "Sounds like your line of work's a little more interesting than just an antiques dealer..." He smiles, liking this more and more. The man was obviously into something deep... Maybe he would have need for the things Damien could do... Only time would tell.

Gary was in the midst of finishing up his beer when Seraphine came back over wondering if there was anything else. He gave a slow, lazy, half-smile, half-smirk and pointed to the recently emptied bottle of Sleeman. With a quick thank you to her, he averted his squinty green eyes back to Damien. Intrigued that this young man had picked up on his little slip of a hint, he leaned forward in his seat instead of back.

"To some, but not to others... Interesting, I mean," Gary added as a bit of an after thought. The kid had spirit and, though the thirty-two year old wasn't entirely sure how he could have figured that out in the span of five or so minutes, he was beginning to see potential. The only issue was, for what?

Glancing to Seraphine, he shakes his head softly, "No thank you, Seraphine. This is perfect." He says, giving his smile. She was attractive... Maybe he'd try to talk to her after her shift and after he'd parted ways with Mr. Rosencratz here... Who knows? Maybe even-... Getting distracted, have to focus on income at the moment. No lady likes a drifter...

"I believe you can count me under, interested." He says, his voice lowering some as he leans forward, his polite smile slipping to a bit of a darker one. Things certainly were getting interesting... This could be the break he's been looking for. A chance to move up... or, depending on who he talked to, down... Good thing Damien didn't talk to those people. "I hear help is hard to find in trades like yours Mr. Rosencratz... Well, good help that is." He finishes, willing to prove his worth if need be.

Damien looks at his bottle of water and the glass full of ice. He twists the cap from the bottle and takes a drink from it, leaving the glass of ice alone for some reason.

Seraphine smiled, a forced one and walked away from the table. That conversation was getting a bit shadey in her oppinion and she didn't really want to miss it so she hurried to the bar to find the older man his new Sleeman. She understood, or so she thought, why the younger, called Damien, did not drink from the cup. Bar glasses were dirty and hell knows what was in that water before it'd been frozen. She wondered then why he'd said that Ice was exactly what he'd wanted.

She paused on her way back to look at the band member and the young looking woman. Mental note to self: when you come back to the bar, ask if everything was alright or if she would have to call security...she was far to small to be of any good in a struggle or even much of a fight between the big coustomer (the cop) or the young woman.

She walked back to the table where Damien and Gary were seated. These two would surely keep her busy most of the night, which was good, she needed the money right now. Rent was already only a day away. She paused at another table to check if those people were ok, then continued on to the two men and set the new sleeman in front of him, throwing a smile at Damien, then a nervous one back to the couple at the bar, something wasn't exactly right over there.

"Can I take that?" She asked pointing at the old bottle.

"Yes, yes, help is hard to find," Gary reiterated thoughtfully, nodding to Seraphine and stroking his bare chin with the thumb and fore-finger of his right hand. He sure did miss his beard. It had been nearly half a year since he'd decided to keep his face clean and there was always one period in the day when he wished he hadn't considered such a preposterous idea. Oh well, a man could dream of a beard that wouldn't get in the way all the time. Until then, he'd have to do with stroking bare skin instead.

"What do you make of this?" Gary inquired suddenly, tossing a smudged polaroid onto the table's surface non-chalantly as he leaned back once again in his chair. The picture looked faded, a little bit on the elderly side and appeared to be missing a corner due to some form of combustion. Charred black, in layman's terms. The image, however, was still as clear as day despite the multitude of fingerprints which tip-toed across its surface.

Gary's face broke into a grin as he recalled the day that picture was sent to him. It felt like he had been carrying it in his suit pockets for year when it had really only been a week. The subject of the photograph was a cup. It might have been a glass or a chalice, but all in all, it was something most commonly used to drink out of. Made from what appeared to be silver or white gold, it didn't look very special. The cup was tarnished here and there, shaped like an ordinary wine glass and appeared to be very smooth. Not anything unbelievably enticing to those who had no idea what it was. Gary knew, and Gary wanted Damien's reaction to prove the boy's worth.

Damien grasps the edges of the photograph with his thumb and index finger, careful not to add his own fingerprints to the collection upon it already... He leans back in his seat and looks at the polaroid with little interest at first. Then, his brow creases and his eyes shift up to the man, then back down to the photograph.

"...Is this something... You already have in your possesion?... Or perhaps something you'd like to aquire..." He asks, knowing that this is not the ordinary shotglass...

Not quite the reaction he had been expecting, but it would have to do. Gary leaned forward once again on the table, sliding a hand into the breast pocket of his oxford. He pulled out an off-white business card and a very expensive Mont Blanc pen. He turned his card over and scrawled an address on the back before sliding it across the table over to the other young man.

"Find this and then give me a call. I've forgotten what good help was these days, need a refresher course," he informed simply, grinning in a sly sort of way. Consider it an audition kid, Gary thought to himself, eyeing Damien calculatively across the table.

Only thing left is to figure out if you're In... Or Un.

Seraphine atempts to glimps he photograph in a discreat fashion but dosn't see much more then a cup for the breif moment before Damien picked it up. She sighed and took the empty sleeman bottle and walked to the next table, joting down an order. SHe left, retreating back to the bar, retrieving a tray and six drinks. Carefully she makes her way back to the table and passes out the order.

She does this slowly, her ears pirked, attempting to hear what the two men were saying. After all, she had plenty of reliable excuse to continue returning to that table. First off what youg girl in her right mind would see a raher attractive young man and avoid returning with any excuse to hang around him. That was a reliable excuse in itself, for that young man was attractive, a little worn looking but nothing a few hours sleep probably couldn't fix. And second, Mr. Gary Rosencratz seemed o be moving through his drinks rather quickly as he'd finished the entire beer in the time it took Damien to open his water.

Damien takes the card as he finishes the bottle of water. He glances at the address and shoves the card and the photo in his pants pocket with a soft clinking of the dangling chains hanging from the bondage-loops upon his clothing.

"...Hm, how's tomorrow sound?... You busy then?" He asks, raising a light brow. He seems to speak with complete seriousness, without a hint of arrogance or over-confidence. The address and the photograph are engraved upon his memory now... He probably won't look at either anymore, to keep the chances of prying eyes from seeing it, mainly those of the lovely Seraphine... Damien would rather she not ask too many questions if he were able to talk to her again.

He holds the empty bottle, cap twisted on, in his left hand, tapping it against the fingers of his right hand absently, a form of fidgeting, one would guess.

Gary, deciding he didn't really want the second beer anymore, started to rise from his seat. He straightened his blazer and fixed his tie before sliding his pen back into his breast pocket. He'd had enough of nostalgia for one evening and had no further purpose to hang around a bunch of kids. Never mind if they happened to be useful.

"Just give me a call," Gary said once more. If he had the grail by tomorrow he would be impressed, that was for sure. The grail wasn't a piece of pie to get your hands on though, it never stayed in the same place for very long either. Silently, Gary wished Damien good luck and pushed his chair back from the table, getting ready to leave.

"Make sure the waitress gets this," he added afterwards, dropping the pay for the two beers and a pretty large tip for Seraphine to pick up. Gary nodded as he side-stepped around the table and headed for the door.

Best of luck, Damien. You're going to need it.

He nods slowly to Gary as he rises, "I will... and you'll have your call..." He replies, standing with him as he says his farewells, "Good night, Mr. Rosencratz... you won't regret it. And if so... I'm sure you have a great place to hide the body." He says with a subtle smirk, though speaking with a serious tone.

Seraphine turned in time to see The older genilmen leave and pouted slightly. She'd missed out on most of that conversation. She silently cursed as she set down the last of the beers on the table, turned to see if Damien needed anything but didn't bother to approach the table when she saw he looked as if he were content. Besides, she was busy pouting right now.

She retreated to the bar for a while, serving up the coustomers, half already slurring and drunk. When she was finally through pouting and a man came to the bar to pay for he and his partners drinks a thought crossed her mind. That Mr. Gary hadn't paid her. She groaned. Once the people at the bar were settled she returned to the floor, making her way around the tables and picking up empty bottles, until she reached Damien's table to take the full bottle of sleeman that was ordered but had remained untouched. "You want to take this sir?" She asked Damien, hard to keep from yelling at him for Gary walking off without paying.

He smiles, "Yes, thank you. And here, for your troubles." he holds up the bills that Gary had given him for Seraphine plus a bit more for his own tip, "I apologize for that man's attitude... I'd have thought he'd have a little more respect..." He gives a bit of a sigh and a subtle shrug.

Oh," She said, slightly embarassed now for her assumption that the man had walked right out without paying. She bit her lip and took the money, stuffing i deep into her back pocket instead of the apron pocket...she didn't trust her money in there. "Thank you." She slid the unopened beer towards him across the table, frowning slightly. "Yes. He was rather rude. I take it he's a new aquantance to you," she assumed so since she'd seen them introduce themselves to eachother. She took a rag and wiped it across the table where the ice had melted off the bottle and run onto the table, and where the glass of ice she'd brought him remained untouched and condensation rolling down it. "Want me to take that, get it out of the way?" She asked him.

He looks at the glass a moment and frowns. "Yes, thank you... I had a plan for that... but as it turns out, there was no need for it..." He simply smiles, "My name is Damien." He says, about to extend his hand and then realizes she probably has enough to carry. "Ehh... Do you want some help with all this? I don't have anything in particular to do." He smiles and reaches for the remainder of the Sleeman and the more or less empty bowl of peanuts.

She smiles at this generous offer but shakes her head. "No, it's what I'm paid for. Thank you though, Damien," She smiled and looked at the nearly empty bowl of nus. "Can I get you more? I'm about to go back that way anyways," She picks up his untouched cup of ice and looks around at the other tables in her section. Most of them had been emptied, due to the occupants going to the dance floor. Finally the shift was slowing slightly for her. She was getting tired and still had half an hour left on the clock.