[See an ill-focused shot of some tables. A restaurant, a bar maybe. Dark and deserted-- clearly closed for business. If you're a patron, maybe you even recognize the Raven
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[There's nothing, then there's the smell of blood, thick and iron-y, and the air opens up just in time for Eden to catch a bottle of Jack with her stomach]
[He's on his feet with another bottle in hand as she pops into existence. It's reflexive, it takes him longer to see she's not a threat than to react. When he recognizes her the bottle in his hand drops, crashing to the floor to spatter his pants with vodka and add to the general mess around him.]
[Frankie sways a little, losing some of that nervous energy, transferring his weight to his back foot. Drained, he leans on the edge of the bar. Most of his stock-- not the blood, but nearly all the booze-- is wrecked, and only a handful of intact glasses remain on the shelves.]
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Shite!
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[He's on his feet with another bottle in hand as she pops into existence. It's reflexive, it takes him longer to see she's not a threat than to react. When he recognizes her the bottle in his hand drops, crashing to the floor to spatter his pants with vodka and add to the general mess around him.]
Shit, shit. I didn't-- you okay?
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Yeah, yeah, fine, fine. What the fuck happened?
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Ed.
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