damned_institute | Day 42: Crossroader's Bar and Casino (evening)

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Day 42: Crossroader's Bar and Casino (evening)

_{[Free, no limits.]}

Grungy establishments like this 'Crossroader's Bar' weren't Yomi's typical style--what she saw in Japan were much different than this. But everything about where she was and what she was doing was out of the ordinary; Yomi had to put oddities behind her.

Besides, when it came to a bar, even one so cliché as this, what was there to know?

There would be people, talking and smelling of booze, and unwelcome reactions. The last, she expected. These people, hospital and townsfolk alike, seemed as real in body and mind as any other to her, so if they were truly human, bar flies would be judging her--the crazy girl with tragic delusions--the same way she was judging them--the oblivious captors. And that was an example of the strangeness she was facing, that she could be on the same playing field as humanity again, when she'd become something else. Something with a hunger for human blood. Yomi still had that hunger, and the means to satisfy it, but still, she was at people's mercy.

Well, she could be good. Until things returned to how they should be.

Yomi stepped inside, the clump of her shoes on the floor giving her entrance away. Her eyes didn't need long to adjust--she looked around her, taking in the room as though in the midst of deciding if she should stay or go. In reality, she had nothing to be hesitant about, and there were only so many worthwhile places to scope out if she couldn't leave the town. Newly legal in body, the bar was a suitable choice.

When her gaze had done a circuit of the room and its occupants, she continued inside, making her way up to the bar. The girl slid into a stool, which put her back to the rest of the bar. Now, was she considered a customer?

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The title of customer was reserved for those who could pay. Mathers wasn't the sort of guy to give freebies and he wasn't the sort to appreciate these crazies coming into his bar every week without anything to do but fill up space. It annoyed him. Even more so when he took stock at the end of the day and realized that he was missing things. Damn bastards from up the hill were stealing somehow.

When someone new entered, Mathers moved behind the bar from the back room, the same towel tossed over his shoulder that he always had. Setting a bowl of roasted nuts on the bar in front of the new girl, he regarded her carefully and asked, "Well? You just here to sit?"

Well? What was she doing here? If this man could tell Yomi that, she’d be ever so grateful.

Yomi considered her hands, folded on the bar, until the bartender returned her attention, and even then she inspected the bowl of nuts put down in front of her before turning her gaze on the man. He seemed so average, predictable, but the amount of weight she could rest on that conclusion was still small. It would be nice to know the “Head Doctor’s” secrets, the secrets to how everything moved like clockwork, in or out of the hospital.

She picked up a nut between forefinger and thumb. “Would that be a problem? I’m open to suggestions,” Yomi inquired innocently, keeping her eyes on the bartender as she popped the nut in her mouth.

It tasted like nothing.

Great, one of those. Mathers rolled his eyes and went to wipe down some of the glasses from earlier. Why did the bums always end up here? It wasn't like they thought they could weasel something out of him, did they? Anyone in town could tell them that Old Man Mathers didn't give freebies and didn't take to strangers not paying their bills either.

"Do whatever, just don't expect anything for free here. I ain't like those other softies in town." He picked up a glass from the dish drain and started wiping it down, keeping a wary eye on the girl. "Not in business for the charity of it."

She made a sound of acknowledgement under her breath, picking up another nut from the bowl to roll between her fingers. “Aren’t you taught not to feed the zoo animals?” Yomi questioned rhetorically in much the same vein. After all, giving freebies to the crazy strays could be dangerous, right?

This prison was like no other she could’ve imagined, before or after her transformation. A change in identity could completely alter the rules of engagement. That, she knew.

“It wouldn‘t be smart to give money to a mental patient, anyway,” she continued, objective, like admitting her position was about as moving as the color of his dish rag, “and I’m not much of a drinker, so I guess that settles that.” Yomi stopped toying with the nut, fixing the man with a subtle smile laced with self-mockery. “But I was cute enough to win these out of you for free. That’s something.” She let it drop back into the dish. “I suppose you must be used to that, though. What number do I make today?”

Not only was she one of those, she was a smart ass to boot. Mathers grit his teeth and set the clean cup up on the rack, noting the other two who walked in with displeasure. That redhead was the jackass who threw peanuts the last time he was in here. If he tried it again, Mathers would kick him to the curb.

"They're free to anyone in the bar - even if you're one of them," he grumbled, picking up a new glass to wipe down. "And you're one too many - how's that for a number?"

Ah, ‘one of them‘. She liked that. And she smiled to show it.

Granted, being perceived as some delusional incompetent was the kind of mantle Yomi would be shaking off quickly. People like that, sick people who couldn’t control themselves, people who needed others to ground them in reality and take care of them… those types of people had always been weaklings in Yomi’s mind. Oh, a part of her had always thought it wasn’t always their fault, that enough misconception went around that blame didn’t need to be added to the mix too, but wasn’t it all just justification?

Deep down, they were more pathetic than the average human, and Yomi knew it.

“It’s a fair one,” was what she said in return. “Every week, there has to be more and more of us, there doesn’t seem to be an end to it. No one wants to visit a town on the weekend when the number of special visitors runs into the hundreds.”

Mathers finished drying the glass and set it on the shelf with the rest of them, giving the girl at the bar a wary eye. Was she even old enough to be in here? Upon closer inspection, she really didn't look like she was over 21 and the last thing Mathers needed was the Sherrif walking in here and seeing him talking to a minor at his bar. Narrowing his eyes, Mathers dropped the towel over his shoulder and crossed his arms.

"Don't know what you're playing at, but I don't care much for your type or any visitor's type, so don't try asking." Whatever visitors he had, they were usually passing through and Mathers had better things he needed to do. Like right now? He had to keep the bald one and his fire-headed friend from doing anything dumb. So far they weren't causing any trouble, but Mathers never forgot a troublemaker's face. "Besides, you don't look old enough to be sitting at bar, so just be glad I'm not throwing you out."

[Reno]

Maybe Rude was torturing himself, being in a place he couldn't enjoy. Maybe he was just sizing it up. He took a chair in a dark spot and leaned back, eyes closed under his shades and waited for his partner in crime. So far today he'd seen up a skirt and come closer to breaking this place's mysteries and been harassed. Not bad, really, all in all.

Considering Reno had been kicked out the last time he popped in here, coming back in the second time around probably wasn't the brightest idea, but whatever. Worst that could happen, he got kicked out again.

And dragged Rude with him, which was a bonus if nothing else.

His partner was way too easy to spot so Reno strolled over without even pausing to look for him. Of course the guy would be in here. Where else? In a town full of manicures and little cute grocery stores and ridiculous shit like that, the bar was about the closest that came to their comfort zone. Even it wasn't right up there with what he was used to. There should've been more busty chicks, hookers in the corners. Sleezy drunks.

This?

This was fucking boring.

He flopped down in a seat across from Rude and flicked at the lens of his sunglasses. "You even awake under there or what?"

"M'awake," he muttered, not moving a muscle. He was like that for a few moments before he stretched in his seat and sat up, eyes open now. Not that anyone could tell.

"Got anything useful?"

Reno sat back and propped one foot up on the edge of Rude's chair, not hard enough to tip it or anything, but enough so Rude felt the bump. He waited for his partner to finish meditating or whatever it was he did when he stared like that.

"Nope," he said, falsely cheerful. There was never anything useful in this town. He could go the hardware store, steal a wrench or something, but really? You armed yourself properly or you didn't bother doing it at all. Wrenches and hammers, not worth the effort.

A gun, on the other hand.

"You?"

Damn that foot. It wasn't even a case of 'one day Reno's foot and Rude's body were going to come in contact', because that happened plenty. It was more a nervousness of the known than fear of the unknown in that respect. Still, not enough to bother him greatly. Or outwardly.

"A little," he said. There was the invisible buzz of a pleased smile about him. An undercurrent of vague smugness.

Okay, so the sonofabitch had something up his sleeve, judging by his "I'm better than you" vibe. And it was a vibe, 'cause Rude didn't actually look it. He never looked like anything, except maybe a a really goddamn shiny egg with sunglasses.

Reno shifted, fully aware of what Rude was thinking about his foot being right there. He cocked an eyebrow.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he smiled. Well, his lips weren't as set as usual, anyway. "Yuffie's gonna come see me tomorrow. I need you and Elena there too."

He sat up a little, still careful of the foot, and pulled some folded paper out of his pocket. Not all of it was in his own handwriting, but the name 'Ritsuka' was printed on a sheet that he had written.

Reno's eyebrow went a little higher at that. He thought about asking, but he shrugged it off. Rude was a sneaky bastard, but he didn't seem like he was planning to blow anyone up, so Reno figured it was okay to not ask this time. Anyway, it apparently had more to do with Yuffie, and Rude wanted him there with Elena. If Rude fucked with Yuffie and got kicked in the balls, it would be worth the wait.

...Not that he was keen on, y'know. Rude getting--oh, fuck it, who he was he kidding? A little pain on someone else was never not entertaining.

He eyed the paper. Ritsuka, huh? That name, it was kinda familiar. He'd heard it before, might've met--the kid? Yeah. Awhile back, couple weeks or so. Kid had come with Elena, if he remembered right.

Reno plucked the folded note out of Rude's hands, but didn't open it yet. "What's up with this?"

"Research. Met this kid, pretty sharp, asked him a few questions..." There was the hesitation of a thug. "Turns out there's a few similarities in this 'world' and ours."

Rude wasn't about to go into his theory further. The kid had hit the nail on the head, pretty much, but Reno....he'd take some more time getting into it probably. Especially if Rude brought in, you know, the computer game thing.

Okay, now Reno was interested. He dropped his foot from Rude's chair (not before knocking it one last time against the seat) and leaned forward. He thought about opening the note and reading it himself, but then he pushed it back towards Rude. Why read when someone was right there willing to brief him? Shin-Ra made him read enough files, anyway.

"Uh-huh," he prompted. Rude didn't talk a lot, so his explanations tended to come in stops and starts, like he had to recharge his word batteries or something.

Fancy that, Reno was paying attention. Aaaaand, too much attention. Rude's shoulders sagged when he realised he had to talk. It wasn't that he couldn't talk around Reno, he just....couldn't be arsed.

He tapped a finger on the table as he leaned forward and looked at the sheets.

"Right. So...Midgar is... this...." Rude frowned a little and peeked at the paper and frowned some more, so much that it could even be considered a frown by the stardards of expressive people. "A world tree. What t- right. Mythology. They believe in, you know, Midgard, the world tree. It has a serpent too." And a spaceship or something. All this information was prepared in his head, it was just relaying it... He didn't thin he'd have to.

Ok. Something easier. "There's a big religious mountain called Wutai in a place called China that is, itself, much like the Wutai we know," he managed to reel off. Recycled information from the bulletin, ready-prepared.

"Materia is some old word for material, makes sense, Mako is a type of shark. Random shit," he shrugged.

Okay. Normally, when someone thinks bar and casino, they think of loud music and bright flashing lights. Waitresses in skimpy outfits and blackjack dealers shuffling all fancy so they can get a tip. People yelling and talking and laughing. Either way it was supposed to be a lively, fun place to be.

What Harley had walked into was none of those things. It was... What the heck was this, anyway? She knew it wasn't going to be as big and flashy as a city place, but for crying out loud... They could have tried. No one was even playing any of the slots, and she unfortunately was short on 'Free Booze' coupons. So she found herself bored within minutes of walking into the place.

Heck, there was barely anyone in here. Some girl and a redhead guy talking to some bald-- Hey! She recognized that guy! It was that diary guy from yesterday. Though, she figured he was only wearing shades cause he was outside last time. Weird he still had them on.

She wandered over in time to catch just that last part. Poor guys... They were so bored they were talking about sharks? Yikes. "You're gonna put Red to sleep you keep talkin' like that." It was said more to catch their attention as she walked up. Harley spread a big grin at both, though she was still addressing Shades. "You really stink at choosin' places to kill time. I think the tree was better."

...Huh.

Okay, so Rude wasn't making a huge amount of sense, considering he didn't seem all that sure of himself, but still. Parallels, then. That was new. Not oh shit new, though, because that'd happened back when he found out that Elena was, say, sixteen, or when someone had told him they'd apparently played him in a fucking video game.

He opened his mouth to say something about the sharks, but then a girl began heading over. Blonde, pigtails. Almost like the chick he'd met just earlier, but older and not as much of a flirt.

Reno glanced at Rude, flashing a grin of his own. "You get yourself a girlfriend and didn't say, buddy, or what?"

Rude waited to hear what Reno thought before he'd go on, but then they were joined by a cute little blond he recognised. It was HappySad Sally, the girl with emotions that changed faster than slot machines.

Clueless for words, Reno almost saved him. Well, he distracted Rude, who tried to kick him under the table.

"We...met. Briefly," he explained. "Didn't get a name," he said, looking to her.

Well, since she wasn't being turned away right off the bat, that was as good as an invitation in her book. She pulled one of the chairs from the next table over without actually turning away from them. Of course, she caught that hint of playfulness in Red's question. This was already more fun that staring at the dust on the wall.

"Call me Harley!" she said, plopping into the chair backwards and leaning her arms on the back of it. "Shades was too busy mooning over his diary last time, so we didn't get all that acquainted."

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Day 42: Crossroader's Bar and Casino (evening)

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