As the night settled in, Ravenwing entered the Tavern, bag slung over his shoulder. He walked to the bar and reached into his duster, pulling out some money. A few quick words with the owner got him a room again. Ravenwing ordered a beer and waited as the bartender filled his glass. A glance at the bar mirror told him it was quiet tonight. A few patrons sipped their drinks, talking to each other. He picked up the beer and walked to the corner booth in the back.

Ravenwing set his bag down and removed his stetson. He sat down and took a drink of the beer. That hits the spot he thought. He sighed and pulled a tattered notebook out, removed the pencil from the binding and began to write.

Every so often, he would look up, his black eyes taking in the scene around him, and take a drink. Now the lady under the light looks interesting. He thought. He stared at her for a while, thinking She would look great under a tree sitting on one of those those little concrete benches. Maybe wearing a victorian dress....., then realised he was staring, looked down at his notebook again. First night back in town, and already acting like an idiot. What next? Ravenwing shook his head and turned a page. Maybe draw something? He looked at the woman again. Her maybe? Under a tree?.... Soon, then 1812 overture crept into his brain.

Pencil in hand, Ravenwing started the drawing.

Ravenwing's thoughts began to drift after a little time. Finally, after a half hour, he tore the sheet out, wadded it up, left it on the table, closed the notebook and put it away. He looked at the pool table and as no-one was playing, grabbed his bag, stetson, and beer and walked to the table. A game would be good. He thought.

After the break, he stared at the table, appearently trying to figure out the next shot. Behind his eyes however, his brain was chewing on what bothered his. How? How in the hell did someone get that close and I didn't know? Not enough noise to cover someone closing in. Walker sank the one ball. Should have heard him climb the tree. The two ball slammed into the pocket. I looked at the tree before sitting down. No one was there. The cue ball tapped the three into the side. And what the hell was that about breakfast? What nut eats breakfast at night? Ravenwing took a drink of his beer, lined up the four ball, and missed. He must have been drunk. Ravenwing stared at the table. But if he was drunk. Four in the side pocket, five in the corner. Then how did he get up there without a sound?

He felt a little tired. The beer, and wondering about the odd guy in the park had pretty much done him in. Besides, the burn on his arm was itching again. Ravenwing pulled the old pocket watch from his vest pocket and looked at the time. 1:00. Will he sleep tonight, or will he stay awake again? Ravenwing set his stetson on his head and picked up the bag. If nothing else, the fireescape landing would be a great place to hang out. Suddenly, that appealed to him very much

In his room, he pulled off the duster, then took off the vest. He dug into the bag until he found what he wanted and went to the bathroom. Shortly, the window to his room opened and he climbed out to the fire escape landing. His right shoulder had feathers tattooed from the front, around and started on the back. Fifteen eagle feathers. His black hair was now tied back. Deerskin mocassins and breechcloth were his only clothes. At his waist, a bowie knife hung in a homemade sheath, decorated with small fringes. He sat on the cool metal grating and looked to the sky.

Below him, the alleyway was quiet. Above, the stars that could, twinkled down at him in their timeless journey through the heavens. Ravenwing found the stars he was looking for and hummed an old song his grandfather taught him.

Sleep will not come this night.

What the hell? Ravenwing quickly pushed the man from him, rolling over him and pulled the bowie knife out. Before he really thought about it, he ripped the knife across the offending mouth. The sharp steel passed between the teeth of the smiling mouth and sliced deeply through the skin on both sides of the cheek. Ravenwing caught a glimpse of shock as he grabbed the railing and jumped to the ground one floor down. He didn't wait, but ran around the side of the building and made it back into the tavern. Ravenwing slide his bowie back into the sheath and worked his way through the bar. Every eyes was on him as he went through. The bartender, recognizing him from earlier, shook his head thinking that the man was just plain strange.

No stranger to fighting, Ravenwing was sure that this was not the end. Hopefully, where ever this guy came from, he would go back to. If not, well, lets just hope he has had enough. Ravenwing retreived his ID and keys from behind a plant in a corner, then left the tavern, got into his truck and pulled away. A hotel was not far down the road, and there he would spend whats left of the night.

( OOC ) No knife and wood in hands. What made your char think he could get mine to like him if he knocked him down and kissed him? Good luck on that one. :)