(no subject)
Who: Greed | OPEN
What: Greed get his hole of a bar open. It's not much and the selection is small, but any and all are welcome.
Where: The Devil's Nest | South Side of Town
When: Late Afternoon/Evening | June 11th
Rating: R for now - probably language,.
The bar wasn't busy, not yet. But the lights were finally working and there was music blasting out of the jukebox at the far wall. The floors had been scrubbed down over the last few days - when Greed wasn't busy working the streets filling his own wants - and the last touches on the bar had been put into place. It wasn't completely done, not by a long shot, but Greed had used almost all of the free-cash allotted upon his arrival, so he made do. The doors would open in a few minutes and he was ready for the cash-out, no matter how much.
It would only be more the longer he stayed here - people loved to drink, people loved to dance, people loved to let loose. And Greed would provide, all for the right price. Sometimes, they would pay in cash - most normal folks paid in cash. Or they ran a tab and paid later. Others would pay in something else entirely and Greed didn't mind. He wanted it all, and sometimes that included currency other than cold-hard coin.
The homunculus spun a whiskey-shooter mix in one hand (he found that one in the junk yard out back) and a glass in the other. He rolled the glass up his palm, down his forearm, then back again like a yo-yo. The glass was caught in an open hand and he spun it up on the newly-polished bar top. The whiskey shooter twirled in his fingers and he lowered it to pour. Then he jerked it up, presenting a brilliant line of golden-orange liquid. It splashed and rolled across the open mouth of the glass.
The gang had taught him a few tricks back in the day and he had some of his own. But he was hungry for so much more. The red arrays on his shoulder, chest, and torso were thirsty and it wasn't for the drink he was pouring. Power - he craved his spark, despite how many new faces he met, how many interesting things he found. He needed his spark back.
In time, he hoped it would. It would be boring without it!
Greed pushed the glass forward and raised his eyes to the double doors. They still needed work, but the constant thudding and creaking of the bad hinges didn't bother him in the slightest. It just made him crave the noise of a crowd having a good time, of the young folks mingling and laughing while they got half-cocked to next week, of old men whispering old stories with smoke billowing from their mouths, with the middle-aged men talking of success and glory while they wrung out their wallets on a gamble or two - Greed wanted it and his eyes grew wide with that desire. His fingers scratched at the bar top and his chest expanded.
"Give it to me." His voice screamed in his skull, rattled all through bones. He licked his lip, cut his tongue on sharp teeth, and swallowed the blood down into his hot core. It was hot, burning, but the heat stayed there. Greed grabbed the whiskey-shooter and threw it back in one gulp before slamming it down. Another, barkeep! He heard it in his head, but craved for someone to actually say it. Another. Another, and another, and another ....
Greed stepped away from behind the counter and shuffled to the door. His smile was wild and fascinated. He gripped the two-by-four that was only barely holding the door closed and ripped it from the flimsy metal fasteners he had fashioned to the frame last night. The wooden plank toppled over his head and crashed onto the floor. As if to announce his accomplishment, the jukebox crackled out a few lyrics Greed hadn't heard before.
He tapped his foot to the tune and shoved a hand on each door. He pushed them open and air tossed the fur cuff of his vest. Late afternoon was just settling it - he could feel it in his bones. He laughed and cast his arms to each side in a brilliant gesture.
The Devil's Nest groaned as its master's laughter filled its vacant halls. It seemed to say: Have a seat, have a drink - pay your tab to the Devil and he'll be sure to return the favor.
| Additional Reading | Bar Description | Acquiring the Devil's Nest |
What: Greed get his hole of a bar open. It's not much and the selection is small, but any and all are welcome.
Where: The Devil's Nest | South Side of Town
When: Late Afternoon/Evening | June 11th
Rating: R for now - probably language,.
The bar wasn't busy, not yet. But the lights were finally working and there was music blasting out of the jukebox at the far wall. The floors had been scrubbed down over the last few days - when Greed wasn't busy working the streets filling his own wants - and the last touches on the bar had been put into place. It wasn't completely done, not by a long shot, but Greed had used almost all of the free-cash allotted upon his arrival, so he made do. The doors would open in a few minutes and he was ready for the cash-out, no matter how much.
It would only be more the longer he stayed here - people loved to drink, people loved to dance, people loved to let loose. And Greed would provide, all for the right price. Sometimes, they would pay in cash - most normal folks paid in cash. Or they ran a tab and paid later. Others would pay in something else entirely and Greed didn't mind. He wanted it all, and sometimes that included currency other than cold-hard coin.
The homunculus spun a whiskey-shooter mix in one hand (he found that one in the junk yard out back) and a glass in the other. He rolled the glass up his palm, down his forearm, then back again like a yo-yo. The glass was caught in an open hand and he spun it up on the newly-polished bar top. The whiskey shooter twirled in his fingers and he lowered it to pour. Then he jerked it up, presenting a brilliant line of golden-orange liquid. It splashed and rolled across the open mouth of the glass.
The gang had taught him a few tricks back in the day and he had some of his own. But he was hungry for so much more. The red arrays on his shoulder, chest, and torso were thirsty and it wasn't for the drink he was pouring. Power - he craved his spark, despite how many new faces he met, how many interesting things he found. He needed his spark back.
In time, he hoped it would. It would be boring without it!
Greed pushed the glass forward and raised his eyes to the double doors. They still needed work, but the constant thudding and creaking of the bad hinges didn't bother him in the slightest. It just made him crave the noise of a crowd having a good time, of the young folks mingling and laughing while they got half-cocked to next week, of old men whispering old stories with smoke billowing from their mouths, with the middle-aged men talking of success and glory while they wrung out their wallets on a gamble or two - Greed wanted it and his eyes grew wide with that desire. His fingers scratched at the bar top and his chest expanded.
"Give it to me." His voice screamed in his skull, rattled all through bones. He licked his lip, cut his tongue on sharp teeth, and swallowed the blood down into his hot core. It was hot, burning, but the heat stayed there. Greed grabbed the whiskey-shooter and threw it back in one gulp before slamming it down. Another, barkeep! He heard it in his head, but craved for someone to actually say it. Another. Another, and another, and another ....
Greed stepped away from behind the counter and shuffled to the door. His smile was wild and fascinated. He gripped the two-by-four that was only barely holding the door closed and ripped it from the flimsy metal fasteners he had fashioned to the frame last night. The wooden plank toppled over his head and crashed onto the floor. As if to announce his accomplishment, the jukebox crackled out a few lyrics Greed hadn't heard before.
He tapped his foot to the tune and shoved a hand on each door. He pushed them open and air tossed the fur cuff of his vest. Late afternoon was just settling it - he could feel it in his bones. He laughed and cast his arms to each side in a brilliant gesture.
The Devil's Nest groaned as its master's laughter filled its vacant halls. It seemed to say: Have a seat, have a drink - pay your tab to the Devil and he'll be sure to return the favor.
| Additional Reading | Bar Description | Acquiring the Devil's Nest |