Oliver | Male | 28 | Roosevelt Elk
Location: Bar
Mentions: Emma Kate, OPEN

As Oliver made his way down to the bar, he pondered over how he had managed to fall so low so as to want something alcoholic to drink. He could not recall the last time he had craved the nauseating feeling he got when he drank, if he ever had. He also could not remember the last time he had needed a distraction from his life; usually he was perfectly content with his life and the way events unfolded around him. Today was not so lucky. He had been in a particular funk since leaving behind his life's work to protect his shapeshifting abilities, and on more days than one he debated returning to his work, only to remind himself that it was too risky. Some days were worse than others, and this was one of the worst days he had experienced in a long while. After all, it took quite a lot of pressure to direct Oliver's attention to the effects of alcohol.

After waiting in line and then flashing the bouncer his Identification Card, Oliver was inside the noisy bar, immediately disgusted at the overwhelming smell of alcohol and sweat. He would most certainly develop a migraine if he remained inside for too long, but his current focus was on getting something to drink. As he took a seat at the bar, he noticed a blackboard listing all of the special and new drinks they offered. A drink labeled "Lemon Mint Iced Tea" caught his eye, and although he disliked any tea that wasn't warm, he figured the lemon and mint would likely mask the taste.

"Excuse me," he said awkwardly to the bartender, grabbing her attention. "May I please have the Lemon Mint Iced Tea?" She nodded at his question, making the drink as he fidgeted in his seat, cleaning his glasses far too many times to be necessary. He had never been inside a bar before, especially not one this busy. He regretted going as he watched a lean woman slam a burly man's head into a table, emitting a sickening crack that made his stomach drop. The poor man most certainly gained a severe concussion from the assault, and Oliver would have pitied him had he not known what the local drunks were like.

Snapped out of his thoughts by a drink clattering in front of him, he looked back at the counter to see his drink waiting for him and the bartender already tending to someone else. He took a slow, cautious sip, not quite sure what to expect. While it may not have been the worst drink he had ever had, it was certainly not one he would order again. Despite being unhappy with his order, he kept it, deciding that even an unpleasant beverage was still a beverage nonetheless. He put off taking another sip in favor of resting his elbows on the countertop and setting his head in his hands, almost wanting to weep at how much he had lost due to his shapeshifting abilities. All of his life changing experiments and breakthrough discoveries meant nothing anymore, and he would never be able to finish the studies he had been conducting before he left. While Oliver certainly was not one to constantly complain, sometimes life was bloody awful, and this was one of those times.


Jack | Male | 16 | N/A
Location: Outside the bar
Mentions: OPEN

"Excuse me sir, you can't be here. This is a bar - you have to be twenty-one or older to go inside."

Jack was already having a pretty crappy day. He hadn't eaten since the afternoon of the day before, and while he was used to going a while without food, his stomach was growling up a storm. And then this asshole bouncer decided to stop him from going inside the bar to eat because he was underage. It wasn't his fault the bar had the cheapest food in town! It was pretty bad food too, but hey, it was affordable. Plus, it was much easier to pick pockets in a crowded room than on the open streets, but the bouncer didn't have to know that.

"Look, I just want something to eat. This is the only place I can afford to eat at," Jack pleaded, pulling off his best convincing innocent look. Apparently, the guard was not convinced.

Crossing his arms over his chest, the burly man stated: "Sorry kid, but rules are rules. There should be a fast food restaurant down the road." He didn't bother to hide the fact that he was very clearly not sorry. Jack decided against arguing, however, not wanting the bouncer to physically move him elsewhere. Rather, he muttered a quick "whatever" and walked away from the bar, not really knowing where else to go. There was a fast food restaurant nearby, but he had been banned from it after getting caught attempting to sneak out without paying, so he couldn't go there. They even had pictures of him at the counter and everything.

Frustrated and hungry, Jack sat down against the bar wall, tempted to make one of those "Please Donate Food" signs out of sheer desperation. He couldn't eat because he couldn't afford to, but he couldn't steal the money he needed because he was too hungry. It was quite the predicament.


Buff | Male | 39 | Plains Bison
Location: Bar
Mentions: OPEN

Despite the looks he got from other bar-goers, Buff was not having a bad day. He was just in what seemed to be a constant state of grumpiness and irritation. If anything, he was in a good mood, although none of his three facial expressions showed joy. He had brought in quite a lot of cash from the casino down the road, and was at the bar as a reward to himself for being so damn good at Blackjack. Half of his earnings had already been transferred to Nana, but whether as a kind gesture or a form of self control was anyone's guess. Probably both.

As he looked around the bar, he wondered just how many of the people inside were shifters. He knew they were a rare occurrence, having been slaughtered mercilessly within the past century to the point of near-extinction. However, he also knew that the city in particular was a rather popular place for shifters, although he had no idea why. He himself had come into the city in search of others of his kind, but he had yet to actually stumble upon any. Then again, he had also forgotten to look, growing sidetracked by casinos and bars and visiting Nana. Now that he had time to sit down and look, he was on the prowl, hoping to find someone like himself.


Emma Kate | Female | 26 | American Flamingo
Location: Bar
Mentions: OPEN

Emma Kate may have been a little drunk. She'd been at the bar for hours, kicking the asses of about a dozen other drunks that wrongly thought they stood a chance against her. The promise of a fight was what called her to the bar, and the thrill of the fight was why she stayed. That, and the fact that she was making quite a bit of money from her victories. While she wasn't necessarily rolling in cash yet, it would certainly be enough to cover a few weeks worth of rent at the dingy little apartment she called home.

"So . . . Emma, was it? How'd you like to wrestle with me in my bedroom? I can show you a few moves you've never seen, free of charge," a voice said from behind her as a hand rested itself on her hip. Between the countless drinks she'd had and the adrenaline pumping through her veins, she was thoroughly pissed and ready to fight.

Emma Kate grabbed the man's arm and twisted with the fury of Satan himself, spinning around to pull the man's face down to her level with a sharp jerk. "First of all, it's Emma Kate. Second of all, unless your dick magically disappeared, I'm not interested. Hogs like you are disgusting, and I'm not sure how you ever expect to get laid like that, but I sure as hell hope you never do. Now do me a favor and don't you ever touch another lady with those nasty ass hands ever again," she hissed, holding his arm with her left hand and using her right to land an unnecessarily strong punch to his jaw.

His head did almost a complete 180° as he spun around from the sheer momentum of the blow. She had hoped that would be enough to deter him (okay, she was more hoping for the opposite), but he recovered quickly and made another grab at her, clearly furious at the response he'd gotten. She was prepared, however, throwing him forward and slamming his head against the nearest table with a satisfying crack! that had her grinning from ear to ear. He was unconscious but alive after a quick check from the bartender, and Emma Kate would be lying if she said she wasn't slightly disappointed she hadn't finished him off right then and there. He certainly wouldn't be coming back, that was for sure.


Kalahan | Male | 8 | Black Rhino
Location: Outside the bar
Mentions: Cleo, Greg

Kal was sitting in the back seat of his mother's van, Mouse's head on his lap as the dog slept. His green eyes darted around to look at everything in the city, from people to restaurants and back to people again. He stared at the sights with boyish wonder, amazed by his surroundings. Sure, he'd been in many large cities before due to all the traveling him and his mother had done, but he was always amazed at how impossibly big they were. And at how unique each one was. When his mother stopped the van and told him to wait inside, he wanted to, he really did. But then Mouse whined and pawed at the door because he had to go to the bathroom, and Kal couldn't just deny him the right to relieve himself. So he let him out, keeping a careful eye on him out of fear of him running off. Kal was just able to get the door shut behind him when Mouse took off, sending him chasing after the Great Dane across the street to where Cleo had entered the bar. It was a wonder they weren't hit by a car.

"Mouse, stop!" Kal yelled as the dog attempted to squeeze past the bouncer standing in front to get inside and find Cleo. The dog immediately stopped, returning to Kal's side obediently as if he hadn't just taken off. Mouse wasn't the only one wanting to go inside: Kal was impatient and eager to see his long-lost uncle for the first time. But his mom had told him to wait in the van, and he couldn't just follow her inside like some bad kid. He wasn't even sure if he was allowed inside anyway, as he didn't see any kids going into the bar.

Holding onto Mouse's collar, Kal crossed the street back to the van, deciding it probably wouldn't be the best idea to tell his mom about what had just happened. He never lied directly to her face of course, but that didn't mean he had to tell her everything. Some things were best left unsaid, and this was definitely one of those things.

Kade | Female | Maned Lioness
Location: Bar | Mentions: Emma Kate, NPC dude {ID}

Kade was a watcher. She liked to people watch, often while sipping on a glass of wine. She was fond of fruitier drinks, as well - pineapple juice and rum, for instance, which she was currently drinking. There was quite a lot to watch at a bar, and this little lady with her legs neatly crossed was not the most interesting thing in the building, so she didn’t garner too much attention. The occasional guy would hit on her, but if her polite but slightly chilly dismissal wasn’t enough to scare them off, the look in her eyes was. It was fire and blood and the dark places in the night, smouldering like a lit cigarette in the back alley. She was not a force to be played with, and despite her diminutive stature, she was dangerous.

Her smile was predatory when she sent some random guy scurrying off, but a loud noise distracted Kade, and she looked over in time to see one of the fighters, a quite attractive woman who had already won several fights that night, apparently beating the shit out of another guy. He’d been hitting on Kade herself earlier, and was rather persistent, but her lioness’s smile was enough to spook him. This Emma Kate clearly had a little more . . . fire. She liked fire.

With a more friendly grin than she’d given anyone else that night, Kade made her way over, heels clicking sharply on the floor, drawing the eyes of anyone who could hear. She walked with importance, and others noticed, moving out of her way without a fuss. Sliding up in front of Emma Kate, she put a hand on her hip - her pineapple and rum was still in her other hand. “Let me buy you a drink,” she said, already signalling the bartender. “He was making an ass of himself hitting on me earlier. Wanted to do that myself, just don’t like being noticed when I don’t have to.” It could be called into question whether this tiny woman could even fight, but perhaps that wouldn’t be the wisest route. Kade then noticed a smell. Not a smelly smell, but one she didn’t expect in a bar. Her senses were slightly dampened; the bar was loud and crowded and reeked of cigarette smoke and alcohol, but she smelled a bird.

Not one she would generally hunt. Kade liked red meat, and while poultry was fine, it wasn’t as good as a nice steak. Her smile changed, ever so slightly, into a knowing smirk. Either this Emma Kate had birds . . . or she was one. “Wouldn’t mind getting you a drink just because, though. I’m Kade. You in here often?”

[ Gregory Black ]
Male • 30 y/o • Eurasian Brown Bear
Location: Home - Bar • Mentions: {Directly} Open / {Indirectly} Cleo, Emma

The persistent, melodic ringing of his phone roused Greg from an uneasy sleep. Reaching out to grab it, he sent the mobile device clattering to the floor with an even louder thump instead. An irritable grunt escaped him as he rose stiffly into a sitting position, careful of his leg as it swung it over the edge of his bed. As usual, pain shot from the knee down, but he was prepared as always, a hand bracing himself on the bedside table as he bent forward to retrieve the still ringing phone.

The number flashing across the screen was familiar. Mother. He didn’t feel like dealing with her tonight and allowed the ringing to continue until at last it faded into silence. Fingers wrapped around the cane settled against the table, gingerly rising to his feet. Work hadn’t called him in for a job so he would go where he always went when he had spare time he didn’t know what to do with. The bar.

The previous night had been spent cleaning blood and gore from the tiled floor of a church of all places. A rather grisly scene that still played in his mind. Upon returning home in the morning he’d slept through the entire day. Sucked into a dreamless sleep due to the sleeping pills he had a tendency to pop even when utterly exhausted. They insured nightmares, or rather memories, didn’t wake him before he was ready to face reality.

As he dressed for the night, he chose clothes that were practical, but still fairly nice, perhaps to the point of being overdressed. Greg always strove to give off the impression of being wealthier than he truly was. The way people looked at him when he was walking down the street was quite enough, their pitying gazes or judgmental sneers making his stomach twist with a mixture of anger and nausea. He didn’t need them knowing he lived in a crappy appartement he could barely afford alongside that bullshut.

He left the building behind for the sidewalk, cane in hand, not bothering to make his limp less noticeable. It only put unnecessary strain on his leg and people would stare regardless. Some were even bold enough to inquire what had happened, especially children. He always had a different answer for anyone who asked. No response ever anywhere close to the truth. A less observant person might not have noticed, but the longer he walked the clearer it became he was being followed, a colorful van seeming to inch along behind him a little too slowly for his liking.

Once he reached his own car, forced to park several blocks from his apartment complex, he slipped inside and waited for the van to pass. Instead it seemed to slow and linger. As if waiting for him. Icy blue eyes narrowed in suspicion and he tried to get a glimpse of the driver, but it was too dark out and his eyesight wasn’t the best to begin with. He struggled to start the engine and after another minute or so the old car sputtered to life and he started toward the bar, keeping a careful eye on the van through his mirrors.

When it continued to trail him his heart rate picked up a bit and he did all he could to lose it, pushing the car faster and switching down adjacent roads frequently in the hopes of throwing off his pursuer. He couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to stalk him, but he wasn’t in any hurry to find out. At last the bar came into view and he zoomed into the parking lot. He glanced out the window, but found he must have lost the van somewhere after all. They hadn’t managed to catch up yet at the very least. Maybe he should have kept driving, but the craving for alcohol intensified, almost impossible to resist. Besides, he was probably safer in a public space than driving down lonesome roads in the middle of the night.

He exited his car a little too quickly, nearly falling to the ground and only just barely catching himself on the car door. He ended up forgetting his cane on the passanger seat in his haste, and had to return for it after trying to make his way to the entrance without it. He groaned as the van turned a corner. No way they wouldn’t spot him now. He made quick work of disappearing behind the bar doors, hoping it would discourage whoever the hell was so determined to track him.

He made a beeline for the bar counter as soon as he made it past the crowd. The place seemed quite lively tonight between a woman smashing some unfortunate bloke's head into a table and the people around her reacting, though Greg was sure he deserved it and paid the unconscious man little mind and he flopped into one of the stools and waited for the bartender to take his order. He needed a drink, or 20, right about now.

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Phineas Phoenix
Male • 23 y/o • Black-shouldered Peacock
Location: Bar • Mentions: {Directly} Oliver / {Indirectly} Emma, Kade

Phineas hadn’t been in the bar all that long, maybe an hour or so just lounging at a table near the back and people watching. The fights in particular were an intriguing element to this particular bar. He had little interest in participating, but it was almost mesmerizing watching other people fight. One woman seemed to single-handedly be winning most of the matches and he found himself rooting for her, with cash. She made both herself and him quite a bit of money that night.

The approach of an overly friendly drunk had a smirk tugging at the edges of his mouth, already knowing this guy was in for it and not disappointed by the resounding crack of his head against wood. He might have risked going to congratulate her seemless victory if another woman hadn’t started chatting her up, attention instead turning to his empty cup. He made his way over to the bar, ordering a refill and noticing a rather glum looking fellow to his left. "Why the long face pal? Don't like your drink?" He asked, head tilting to the side ever so slightly, noting the barely touched tea.

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Richard Phoenix
Male • 27 y/o • Black-shouldered Peacock
Location: Bar • Mentions: {Directly} Open / {Indirectly} Kade, Emma, Oliver

Richard didn't enjoy the bar scene like his brother did. The atmosphere was suffocating, the people always too close. Richard watched any person who came near with veiled suspicion. He was only here because he felt the need to keep an eye on Phineas. The redhead had a penchant for trouble and the last time they visited a bar he'd gotten sassy with the wrong person and ended up in a fight. A brawl that Richard had ultimately had to fight for him because his younger sibling was little more than a limp noodle in comparison to the mountain of a man he'd managed to piss off.

Richard didn't look like much himself and it always took people by surprise when he proved a decent combatant. Still, fights weren't something he went looking for. He watched as Phineas approached another man at the bar counter and thought about going over, but considering the posture of both men he decided to leave them be for now. Phineas was looking flirty and he really didn't need to hear whatever lame pickup lines were sure to follow.

A commotion close to his table had Richard snapping his attention back to those around him as a woman slammed a man's face against it, cursing under his breath and stumbling back a few steps to get out of the way. He watched the man slide to the floor and a bartender rushing to check his pulse, surprised no blood came gushing out of the guy's skull from such impact. He scowled at Emma a bit, unsettled by the scene, but said nothing as the man was moved aside by a few of the other bar goers.

He felt less sorry for the dude after Kade had sauntered over, offering to buy Emma a drink and insinuating the man had tried getting fresh with her. The other woman's violent outburst made more sense with that information and he couldn't claim he'd never punched a guy in the face for getting too friendly with either himself or Phineas in the past.

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Tobias Ahlström
Male • 30 y/o • Shire Horse
Location: Outside Bar • Mentions: {Directly} Kalahan

"Easy there Piper," Tobias laughed as the pitbull he was walking strained against his hold on her, tail wagging a mile a minute as they stepped outside. It was the first time she'd been outside since being dropped off as a stray at the shelter, covered in bite wounds and burns. A former bait dog no doubt. Tobias had taken an immediate liking to her and decided to personally foster her. She was finally well enough to take her first walk. "I can see we still have a lot of training ahead of us," he commented in good nature, keeping a firm grip on the leash. She was incredibly strong, but Tobias was used to working with powerful dogs and knew how to handle them.

Their walk would have likely led them away from the bar if Tobias hadn't witnessed a young boy chasing a much larger dog, presumably his pet, across the street into oncoming traffic. His heart nearly popped out of his chest as one car came screeching to a halt, but both boy and dog appeared to have made it safely across the street. The fact that they were headed straight for the bar didn't bode well with him and he moved to follow him when the child and dog appeared on his side of the road again.

Piper whined happily and tried to pull her toward them, her time in the fighting ring clearly not deterring her from seeking out other canines. Tobias allowed her to lead him for a time, but reeled her in closer to him before long, wrapping the leash tightly around his hand until she was forced to walk calmly at his side to keep her from jumping on Kal or Mouse. "Hey there!" He called, tone friendly as he approached the van, looking for any nearby adult that might be his parent. His concern increased when he couldn't see anyone. "Are you alright? That must have been quite a scare."

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Dante Peña Rodríguez
Male • 19 y/o • Eastern Diamondback Rattlesnake
Location: Outside Bar • Mentions: {Directly} Jack

Dante leaned his back against the bar's front, cold seeping through his shirt from the stone exterior and causing enough of a chill for him to shift forward slightly so it no longer touched him. He pulled a carton of cigarettes from one of his pockets, selecting one and soon after a lighter that ignited a small flame at the end. He relished the bitter, smoky taste with every drag he took, letting it out in small puffs through his mouth and nose as he watched people coming and going from the bar.

A teenage boy appearing to be a few years younger than himself made an attempt at sneaking inside and was turned away by the bouncer unsurprisingly. The guy was pretty sharp. Saw right through his fake ID, hence why he was still outside feeding one bad habit instead of two. He edged a bit closer once Jack slumped against the wall dejectedly, overhearing the claim he was only looking for a place to eat. Hand digging into his pocket once more, he pulled out a candy bar he'd been saving for later, poking Jack in the cheek with one end of it before dropping it into his lap. "Tough luck niño," he said around his cigarette. "You don't belong in a place like that anyway."

{{All of these intros are so bad. Forgive pls.}}

Obroox Buile
Male | 26 | Kodiak Bear
Location: Bar
Mentions: Grego [Directly] Emma Kate, Kade, The Phoenix bois [Indirectly]

Obroox liked bars. Not going to them or eating there or drinking, but he liked the atmosphere. Well, he pretended he did. In truth, he liked working at them. There were lots of interesting people to meet and drinks to make and money! Money was always nice. What was less nice was how often bars had fights. Obroox had just finished pouring the 8th whiskey for an entirely sober gentleman when he heard a crack from the other side of the bar. He glanced over in time to see a patron's head being bounced off the bar by another. He scowled. He hated having to fix the counter all the time, but there wasn't much they could do. He'd reinforced it with steel at one point but... they'd had to remove it. Too many ambulances being called apparently. He eyed the point where the man's head had hit, but was happy to see a lack of chipping in the paint. The table behind them wasn't as lucky. At some point the guy had gotten up and tried to get his own back, only to be thrown into another nice bit of wood. He left a fine split in the wood before he... died? Oh no.

Obroox went around the counter to check on the guy. Ambulances were fine but a hearse? He'd never hear the end of i- wait no he was breathing. A sigh of relief. He needed to get a new job. Well, not new, but somewhere else. Somewhere less wood-breaking. He sent a glare towards the patron-thrower but she was already enthralled with another. He doubted she'd pay for the damage anyway. They'd have to raise their prices for a while, but maybe that'd keep the trouble makers out. He let out a short huff and sent his coworker off to call an ambulance. He prayed to the bartending gods that things would be quiet while there was one person on the floor, but apparently that wouldn't happen. A new influx of patrons appeared. Obroox felt the usual pang of anxiety, but it settled as most of the bar-goers were with friends. A few had approached the bar but only one motioned him over. As Obroox got closer, he noted the strong smell of bear- the animal kind that is, the guy wasn't big enough for the other. As he got closer, he noticed the peculiar blue eyes. He grinned, "Hey! Ocular albinism, right?" He pointed to his own eyes. "Central heterochromia here. What can I get you? We got the Grizzly Bear, the Bear Fight, Bearly Standing, Bear Skin Rug, Paws and Con-cider, Bear it all." The manager had let him name their drinks. Naturally he'd filled their menu with puns. He had no regrets about it. He waited for Ocular Albinism's response.

Cleo Black
{Female}{28}{Polar Bear}{Loc:Bar}{MD:Greg, Kal}{MI:}
Cleo's foot pressed on the brake, slowing the van as she watched her brother get into a beaten up car, hesitant. She'd been following him for the last few blocks, trying to convince herself to make a move....to roll down her window and yell, or hop out of the van and get his attention. Instead, she'd done nothing. It left a bad taste in her mouth...for the majority of her youth she had done nothing. More than a decade later, with the added responsibility of a kid, Cleo had thought she'd rid herself of the nasty habit. It appeared as if it had only been hiding.

Cleo had been shocked when Greg had exited the apartment building...she had not expected she'd recognize him after all the years that had passed. It hadn't been his leg, or the cane that had clued her in...though they were both pretty good hints. It had been the way he had held himself, the way he had dressed. Some things didn't change with time. A frustrated breathe escaped from the shifter's lungs, as her brother managed to get his car started before quickly rattling onto the road. Nothing to do but follow him right? Or she could call it a night, find a hotel and a room, and locate him in the morning. Why did she have the feeling she'd back out of this whole ridiculous plan if she took that route, though? Probably because there was a good chance she would.

Pressing on the gas petal, Cleo Black kept close track on her brother, becoming increasingly worried....apparently he was a horrible driver. It was a miracle he was still alive. "Kal, hold onto Mouse!" The words came right before a sharp turn, then another...the whole charade continued for several minutes until Cleo was sure she had lost Gregory. Turning a corner, the mother almost missed her brother as he quickly made his way inside a bar. Pulling onto the side of the road, Cleo gritted her teeth as she looked at the sign, glancing back to look at her son. She hated bars...in fact, she hated anything that had an inkling to do with alcohol.

Ironic that she was planning on chasing her brother into a bar. "Kal, stay in the car while I find your uncle...I won't be long." She wasn't planning on staying in the place for more time than it took to find her brother, tell him she was here...that she wanted to meet up with him later, and leave. Giving her son an affectionate glance, Cleo tore herself away as she opened her door, locked the van, and crossed the street. He would be fine. He would. He was a smart kid, and he was growing up quickly. She needed to trust him more.

The woman was quick to gain entrance to the bar, a scowl crossing her features as she stood at the entrance scanning the crowd. Cleo Black was a very short woman...standing at only 4ft 10inchs, most men stood nearly two feet taller than her. She hadn't grown an inch since sixth grade. Combine that with a pair of jeans, combat boots, a black t-shirt, and a jean jacket....well it was easy to say that she got more than an occasional odd glance. It spoke of her agility that she was even able to maneuver herself to the bar counter....people of the taller variety rarely move for people of the shorter variety. She ignored the fights, and the stares...she had one goal, and then she'd leave. Her gaze snagged on a familiar form, cane leaned against the counter, the bar tender speaking to him. Once again she felt herself freezing up and she couldn't help but stare at his back. The rare curse exited Cleo's mouth, softly spoken under her breathe.

"Get a hold of yourself, baby bear. You're about as useful as a headless plunger standing there doing nothing." Taking a deep breathe, the woman raised her voice in order to be heard over the noise while slowly moving forward, one step at a time. "Greg...Gregory Black!"

all of these replies are short and crappy but I'm not making them longer sorry

Oliver | Male | 28 | Roosevelt Elk
Location: Bar
Mentions: Phineas

Oliver was more than startled to hear a stranger's voice to his right, and his head shot up so fast it would have been comical had his expression not been so weary. Awkwardness settled in, and had he not expected a stranger to approach eventually due to the setting he was in, he would have shut down and left. That was not an option, however, as he had in a way agreed to be approached upon entering the bar. So he was obligated to reply, however awkward his words seemed. "No. I mean, you are correct in that I am not fond of my drink, but that is not the cause of my apparent 'long face'. I…These past few weeks have been rather difficult," he explained, far out of his comfort zone in talking to the man beside him. He was highly tempted to clean his glasses for what was probably the hundredth time that day, but he at least had some semblance of self control.

However uncomfortable he felt, to introduce himself would be the polite thing to do. "My name is Oliver," he greeted, reaching out to initiate a handshake. He pulled back slightly less than a second later, second-guessing his decision, but did not retract it completely. If he were to stand a chance at making any friends, he could not continue to shy away from social interactions. It was then that he noticed the faint scent of bird. Any normal human would have missed it, but very little escaped Oliver's elk-enhanced sense of smell. It took him a few moments to place the odor, but he finally recognized it as a peafowl. 'Peacock,' he corrected himself silently, the tiniest grin playing on his lips. The scent was too strong to have not come from the man before him, meaning that either he was smuggling a peacock into a bar, or he happened to take the form of one. Oliver assumed it was the latter. While he knew it was common courtesy to address another shapeshifter to make them aware of his own abilities, doing so in such a crowded setting was not a wise idea lest someone else overhear. Besides, after all that he had lost due to his shapeshifting abilities, it would be a cruel joke on himself to boast his alternate form.


Jack | Male | 16 | N/A
Location: Outside the bar
Mentions: Dante

Jack's head immediately snapped away when he felt something touch his cheek, eyes wide in surprise and fear. Something landed in his lap, and he looked down to see a candy bar sitting there in all its glory. His gaze flicked up to see a man not much older than himself leaning against the bar wall, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. The man appeared rather intimidating, but he had just given Jack a snack, so he couldn't be too bad. Still, Jack hesitated, finally deciding it was safe and tearing into the shiny wrapper as if he'd die without it.

"Thank you," he breathed between the few bites it took for him to finish the candy, grateful beyond words (not that he'd ever say that, of course). He'd still need an actual meal soon, but the snack certainly helped calm his stomach for the time being. "I'm Jack, by the way," he said, deciding against using an alias. He owed the man his name, at the very least. That's what he told himself as he studied him, trying to figure out whether or not he'd be worth snagging a wallet off of. He mentally chided himself for thinking that, but he couldn't help himself. Maybe he really was a kleptomaniac. He frowned at the thought - he'd like to think he was more than a no-good thief, but it was difficult when most of his thoughts involved whether or not he could get away with stealing from someone or how much money he could make off them. Did that make him pathetic? Probably, but he preferred to not think about that.


Buff | Male | 39 | Plains Bison
Location: Bar
Mentions: Greg, Obroox

The strong scent of bear hit Buff like a truck as a man with a heavy limp walked into the bar and sat down at the counter. There had already been the scent of bear before, but now it was twice as strong. He decided he might as well follow it, as he was getting bored and needed a new drink anyway. Besides, what did he have to lose? He was a giant compared to the man, and while he didn't know exactly what kind of bear he could shift into, he was sure he probably stood something of a chance in his bison form if things got ugly. He was sure he came off as intimidating enough without the need for a fight, however.

The distinctly bear odor only grew stronger as Buff neared the smaller man where he was speaking with the bartender. It didn't take much for him to put two and two together, especially not after overhearing the bartender's drink names. It looked like he'd stumbled upon not one, but two bear shifters. One of which certainly liked his puns. Buff was already beginning to like the bartender due to their similar tastes in humor.

"Got anything bison-themed? It's my favorite animal, you know," he said, flexing his right bicep as if to make the bison head tattoo nod in agreement. He gave off his own musky odor thanks to his alternate form, and he knew they'd be able to smell it instantly. Bears did have a fantastic sense of smell, after all.


Emma Kate | Female | 26 | American Flamingo
Location: Bar
Mentions: Kade

Emma Kate's eyes had snapped over to where a small lady was making her way over, heels clicking louder than what was probably necessary. She didn't mind, however, especially not when the woman put a hand on her hip. An eyebrow raised when she said that the man Emma Kate had just knocked out had been hitting on her previously, and a fire sparked in her eyes. She would have been tougher on him had she known he had also harassed this fine woman. She had been about to reply when she noticed a change in the lady's expression, as if she knew something. And unless she was thinking about Emma Kate's history as a mercenary, she knew exactly what was on her mind.

"Flamingo," she whispered, hoping the other woman would get it and also be a shifter. She hated not being able to smell others of her own kind, but at the same time, she was glad she didn't have a strong sense of smell as some other shifters did. She'd never be able to handle being inside so many bars so frequently. Changing the subject, she replied: "How can I refuse a drink from such a darling lady? The name's Emma Kate, and yes - this bar is practically my second home. Would be my first, but apparently I'm not allowed to sleep in here because it's 'unsanitary'." She used finger quotes at 'unsanitary', as if disgusted that the bar staff wouldn't let her sleep there.


Kalahan | Male | 8 | Black Rhino
Location: Outside the bar
Mentions: Tobias, Cleo, Greg

Kal froze when a stranger called out to him, concerned after all the times his mother told him to never speak to strangers if he was alone. But he wasn't alone - he had Mouse. That had to count for something, right? And the other person had a dog too, one that seemed awfully friendly. Deciding he was probably safe and his mother's rules didn't apply in this situation, he replied, a bit too casually for someone that had almost been hit by a car: "I'm okay! Mouse just really wanted to be with Mama and chased after her, 'cause she went into the bar. But don't worry, he's going back in the car so that he can't run off again. He usually doesn't run off like that, even when Mama leaves." A frown appeared on his face as he looked down at the Great Dane. Maybe Mouse was upset from being in the van for so long?

He looked back at the bar, wondering if his mother had found her brother yet. Uncle Greg? Was that what Kal was supposed to call him? He was pretty sure that was how families worked, but he'd definitely have to ask his mom about it when she got back. He hoped she'd be back soon, but it was nice to finally talk to another person too. Especially one that seemed so nice! Maybe he'd even let him pet his dog...? "May I please pet your dog? What's it's name?" he asked, immediately captivated. Mouse was just as excited it seemed, pulling against Kal's grip on his collar to get to the smaller dog. The Great Dane easily overpowered him, forcing Kal to let go as he sniffed and nudged the other dog gleefully. "Mouse, come back!" he cried, lunging forward to grab hold of his collar again. He struggled to pull the dog back, finally managing to get him away from the pitbull with a good tug. "Sorry," he said sheepishly, frowning at Mouse as the molosser wagged his tail and tried to get at the smaller dog again, only to be stopped by the hand on his collar. Kal's mom was not going to be happy with him when she left the bar and saw him talking to a stranger, but that wasn't really the first thing on his mind.

[ Gregory Black ]
Male • 30 y/0 • Eurasian Brown Bear
Location: Bar • Mentions: {Directly} Obroox, Buff, Cleo

As the bartender made his way over the first thing Greg noticed was the strong scent of bear wafting off the man. He hoped their similar species wouldn’t encourage the fellow to be chatty. He was in no mood for conversation, not that he ever was. He came here to drink and that was all. It was any wonder they had never encountered one another before with how frequent his visits were. As he feared the other bear shifter made an attempt at a discussion, pointing out their unusual eye conditions before listing off drinks he could order.

Greg levelled Obroox with a very flat expression. “Beer, or whiskey. Whatever kind you have is fine,” he replied tersely, hoping the bartender would get the hint, serve him his drink and move on to the next patron. The approach of another bar goer, also a shifter considering the musky scent currently overloading his senses, offered him some hope of being forgotten in favor of the newcomer who was obviously of a similar sense of humor to the bartender. Content to ignore both while he waited for his drink, the sound of a woman calling his name had his entire body stiffening.

He swiftly turned, or rather as quickly as his leg would allow, to find a short, blonde haired woman heading his way. Something about her seemed strangely familiar, but he couldn’t place where he knew knew her from and that left him feeling unsettled. She clearly knew him. Eyes narrowing, he waited for her to venture closer and made the connection. She must be the person who’d been following him in the van. “Who’s asking?” He asked, the suspicion and hostility in his tone rather unwelcoming.

What reason could this woman have to stalk him? He’d been followed from the bar once or twice, but never on the way there and never by anyone of the female gender. Only drunk, overly handsy men who learned using a cane didn’t mean he was harmless or an easy victim very quickly. “Is there a reason you’re stalking me?” He accused, sliding off his stool and grabbing his cane for support. “I’m flattered, truly, but I’m not interested in women. So do us both a favor and fuck off.”

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Dante Peña Rodríguez
Male • 19 y/o • Eastern Diamondback Rattlesnake
Location: Outside Bar • Mentions: {Directly} Jack

“You’re welcome. I gotta watch my figure anyway,” he replied, giving his stomach a pat with his free hand before blowing out another puff of smoke, sure to direct it away from the boy settled at his feet. He wasn’t that much of an asshole after all. Dante watched Jack tear into the chocolate like it was the first meal he’d had in ages and the tuggings of concern pulled at him. ’You're getting soft,’ his father's voice seemed to mock him, but he paid it little mind.

“Hey Jack, I’m Dante. Never seen you around here before. You new?” He inquired, finishing off the cigarette before letting it drop to the ground, snuffing out the still lit end with the bottom of his boot. The dude seemed innocent enough, but Dante knew better than to fall under the spell of a pretty face. He would be keeping tabs on his wallet thank you very much. “You live around here?”

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Phineas Phoenix
Male • 23 y/o • Black-shouldered Peacock
Location: Bar • Mentions: {Directly} Oliver

The smirk on his face only grew when the other man snapped to attention, appearing startled by his question. He watched as an awkward expression passed over the poor guy’s face before he managed an answer. “Well that’s a crying shame. You might as well get something you like even if the drink isn’t the reason for your sorrows. Order something else. It’s on me,” he offered as Oliver went on to explain the true source of his current unhappiness.

“I’m Phineas. A pleasure to meet you Oliver. Am I right in guessing this isn’t your usual kind of place?” he asked, reaching out to shake his hand and raising an eyebrow when Oliver pulled it back seconds later in hesitance, as if he weren’t sure of himself. Phineas laughed lightly and reached the rest of the way to shake it regardless, a quick, but firm grip before releasing his hand and letting his own fall back to the countertop. “No reason to be nervous. I promise I don’t bite. Unless you’re into that sort of thing,” he reassured with a wink.

The small grin that followed had Phineas assuming the other shifter had caught on that they had something in common, perhaps not in species, but at the very least the one thing that made them undeniably different from the majority of the bar, though Phineas could detect faint traces of others. His senses simply weren’t as sharp as those of most mammals. “Birds of a feather gotta flock together, am I right?”

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Tobias Ahlström
Male • 30 y/o • Shire Horse
Location: Outside Bar • Mentions: {Directly} Kalahan

Tobias did his best not to allow the shock currently pulsing through him to show on his face. It wouldn't do any good to worry the child, but he couldn't help the outrage coiling inside him. What kind of mother abandoned her son in a parking lot while she entertained herself inside the bar? A dog was no substitute for a proper babysitter! Debating whether or not he should call child services, he finally settled on staying with the boy until his mother came out. If she stumbled toward them drunk no way in hell was he letting her drive or anywhere near this poor kid.

"Does your mama do this often?" He asked casually, sure to keep his voice light and carefree. "Leave you and Mouse alone I mean?" Piper whined as she tugged at the leash keeping her by Tobias' side, wanting to get closer to Kal and Mouse. "Her name is Piper, and you sure can," he encouraged, giving the command to sit. The blue and white Pitbull did as commanded, but her whole body seemed to wiggle with enthusiasm as she stared at the boy with hopeful eyes. When Mouse managed to pull away from his owner all of Piper's composure was lost as she sniffed and nudged back at the larger dog eagerly, falling down into a play bow before Kal grabbed ahold of the Dane once more.

"It's alright, she's not much better," Tobias laughed, glad at the least both dogs were being friendly. After a few seconds of regaining control of his own dog Piper finally calmed enough to sit down again. "Maybe put Mouse in the car until your mother gets here. Just so he doesn't run off again," he suggested gently.

Kade | Female | Maned Lioness
Location: Bar | Mentions: Emma Kate, Obroox {ID}

Kade smiled, accepting another pineapple and rum from the bartender and motioning for him to take Emma Kate’s order. “Lioness,” she whispered back, with a grin. Her laugh, and she did laugh at the comment about sleeping at the bar being unsanitary, was loud and real and possibly the happiest she’d sounded in a while.

“I’m not in here a lot, but I like to watch people sometimes. Ya know. My home isn’t too far, actually, if you want to stop by sometime,” Kade added, with another smile. “I’m joking, but also I’m not.” She sipped her drink and discovered the barstool behind her was empty; with a smooth motion she pulled herself up into it. Trying to not look like she was sniffing the air, she detected several more animalish scents, most strongly bear. Her head turned toward the bartender and for the first time, she noticed the amount of bear-themed names on the bar. He appeared to be busy, so she didn’t want to call him over, but she made a mental note to speak with him. Who knew so many shifters would be in the bar?

“If you’re in here a lot, do you perhaps know the bartender?” Kade asked, returning her attention to Emma Kate but glancing at the one she meant. “I feel like we may have some things in common.” She was hoping that this woman would pick up the hint.

Cleo Black
{Female}{28}{Polar Bear}{Loc:Bar}{MD:Greg, Kal}{MI:}
As Gregory turned, Cleo searched his cobalt gaze for any sign of recognition on his part, unfortunately his words confirmed the message his gaze sent. Each enunciation was frigid, nearly to the point of being hostile...they were spoken in a voice that had matured tremendously since she had last seen him...fourteen years? Thirteen? Fifteen years ago? The tones of his voice no longer cracked into randomized inflections of soprano as they had in his youth. Instead, the words he spoke were of a deeper timbre only found in grown men. Cleo paused as her brother rose, grabbing his cane...she shortened the gap until they were only about three feet apart, eyeing him as he continued to speak without much pause in between his last sentence and the next few.

Well that was certainly a brotherly greeting. The woman's thoughts were ironic, and despite his harsh closing sentence, Cleo found a smile tugging at the edges of her mouth. He always did have a way with words. The previous nerves that had possessed the shifter were gone...as if by magic...replaced with only a light weight of concern. His attitude did not bode well for how he'd take the news that his long lost sister...well....one of his long lost sisters, had returned. It was very likely that he wouldn't take the news well....at all. And what was he doing in a bar? No...no...best not to make any assumptions about that.

Cleo Black let the silence stretch, let Greg's words linger in the air for awhile. It was a tatic of hers that she had used ever since she was younger than Kal...silence had a weight to it when used properly. Finally, Cleo spoke, "Cleo Black." A long pause...than to clarify. "My name, I mean. It's Cleo Black...never did officially change it despite my better judgement." There...she had told him her name, now to give him a time and a place and return to her kid. Was that a bit cold? Probably....but she didn't take well to nasty words, especially in a setting such as this. And she had told Kal that she wouldn't be long. And she was worried about him. And she was probably a bit afraid of Gregory's reaction, but that was a can of psychological beans she wasn't yet ready to explore. Also? She didn't want the first conversation between her brother, and herself, to be in a bar of all places.

"Why don't we meet up tomorrow, you and me, Chucky Cheeses on 893 Kadaver Street, hmm? Say around eight pm? Catch up. Fight. Whatever you're game for really." Cleo shoved her hands into her pockets and shrugged her shoulders, glancing around, a wince of distaste immediately crossing her features as she made a half turn. Than she hesitated, looking back at her brother wondering if she should say it, but knowing she had to if only for the sake of her son. "Sober...show up sober."

She finished her turn, not looking back, as she once again started to navigate her way through the jungle of taller people. Perhaps the nerves hadn't left after all. Her throat was tight and her lungs seemed to be caving in on themselves. Pesky lungs.

Obroox Buile
Male | 26 | Kodiak Bear
Location: Bar
Mentions: Grego, Bufferbutt, Cleo

Ocular Albinism seemed distinctly unimpressed by Obroox's bear puns. He figured the guy probably just didn't get them. They were pretty subtle after all. He tersely asked for a beer or whiskey. Not the greatest choice, but whatever. He'd gotten some neat fruit-infused whiskey and hadn't had a chance to test it. He'd just set it on the counter when another patron approached to join the pun party. The guy was as subtle as his scent. He could hardly smell Ocular Albinism's bearness over the aroma. Everything smelt like cow. Obroox took a step back and sneezed, trying to clear his nose. He smiled sheepishly, "Sorry bud, allergies." It wasn't true but it sounded better than 'I am drowning in your musk please let me die'.
At least the guy made up for it with a sick bison tattoo. Obroox had to resist drooling over the line art. He was a sucker for good tattoos and the fact this one could nod was amazing and also fantastic and everything he ever wanted in life. He started rolling up his sleeve to show off his perfectly normal pokemon tattoos. He'd only revealed half of Raichu when more drama broke out.

A woman had called out for Gregory Black and seemed to be staring at Ocular Albinism. Obroox supposed that must be the patron's name because he stood to face the woman. She smelt like bear, but different. Polar bear. Obroox shifted in place nervously. Bears weren't the most social creatures, so having a call-out like this couldn't be good. She stepped forward and Obroox found himself tensing. They didn't need a bear fight here. An unconscious guy and a damaged table was fine, but not a proper fight and not with shifters. His fingertips edged towards the silent alarm, pausing just before touching it. The woman introduced herself as Cleo Black. Obroox frowned. They had the same last name. A domestic quarrel? He'd seen enough of those in here. Considering the request to meet up at Chucky Cheese and for Gregory to be sober seemed to cement this. They'd probably divorced and he wasn't coming to see his kid so she'd made a last-ditch effort to let him into their kid's life. Obroox felt tears well in his eyes. He always cried when this happened in soap-operas but it was so much more emotional in reality. He watched as Cleo left and promptly removed the fancy fruit-whiskey from the table. Ocular albinism or not, he was gonna make sure this guy showed up sober at Chucky Cheese tomorrow.

Wyclef Allen Snow || Male || 26 yrs || Wolverine
Location: Bar || Mentions: None/Open

Wyclef stared into the amber liquid that sloshed back in forth in his glass, watching as it glinted in the light of his surrounding. Ears perked as he tapped his nails against it but in the crowded bar, he was barely able to hear the ring it let out. He was normally much more cheery and talkative but after the day he had he would need another drink to even pretend. Rubbing his face, recognizing his need to shave but there was no energy to even worry about that for at least a few more days/weeks. Why couldn't Grant see he was trying his best? Sure, Grant was still technically a kid but he rarely acted like it so why was he doing it now?

A hand placed on his arm made him jump, glancing up to see the bartender looking at him with a worried look. Grinning at her but it felt so forced, the bar was too packed to do their normal therapist routine. He decided to scoop the place out for a potential companion for the evening, there was no way he could go back to the apartment sloshed. It would kill Grant to see me pulling Dad's old routine... Wy gave an almost sadistic laugh at that, he ran to get away from the man and here he was looking just like him. When had his head started feeling so funny? Maybe he should have had lunch today...

Light hazel eyes moved over the group, his smile finally fitting back on his face like it should. There was such a fine selection tonight, taking a deep breath he tried to filter through some of it but there were just too many scents. He'd simply wait for a good opportunity to pick someone out of the crowd (Or he'd sleep behind the bar... Wouldn't be the first time...). Feeling a growl rising in his throat, he couldn't pick out why. Maybe there were just too many people

[ Gregory Black ]
Male • 30 y/o • Eurasian Brown Bear
Location: Bar • Mentions: {Directly} Cleo, Obroox, Buff

Gregory found what little patience he had for the strange woman fading the longer silence stretched between them, his gaze growing colder with every passing second until his eyes were like chips of pale ice. Her expression gave nothing away as if she knew exactly what she was doing, holding her words hostage until his own mouth opened to deliver another scathing comment. She quickly interrupted him before anything else could be said, offering her own name. Time seemed to stop in that moment and she seemed familiar for an entirely different reason. The bar's other patrons melted into the background, unimportant and forgotten.

A number of conflicting emotions passed over his face; confusion, disbelief, anger...for a moment he almost didn’t believe her and was outraged anyone would play such a cruel joke on him. His sisters had been stolen from his life so long ago, the youngest taken by tragedy and the other ripped from him more physically as they were yanked from one another's arms and forced into separate homes due the failings of the foster care system. He had looked for her once he was in a position to do so, but no trace of her was to be found. Where had she had she been all of this time?

She looked well all things considered, and he knew the longer he stared what she said must be true. The way she held herself, the way she had allowed the quiet to linger before revealing her identity, the defiant look in her eyes. It was all Cleo. He wanted to say something, but his voice caught in his throat and for the first time in a long time he was completely speechless. That quickly she was gone, leaving him with only a time and place to meet the next night.

He stood there for a long time, well after she had disappeared back outside, only returning to his seat once his leg felt as if it would no longer support him. He thought of going after her, demanding they talk now, but then that parting sentence had caused him to pause. Did she think him a sloppy drunk simply because she found him in a bar? He hadn’t missed the disgust on her face as she parted. The thought unsettled him. Had the years apart distorted her view of him? Did she blame him for his absence? Turning in the stool, he reached for one of the glasses Obroox had previously placed across the counter only to find them gone.

He gazed at the bartender in bewilderment, both his posture and countenance having lost most of their former bite, replaced with something far more weary and uncertain. He was surprised to find Obroox’s eyes glistening with tears and suddenly the fact he was surrounded by a whole room full of people, some of them shooting glances his way and whispering to one another became very apparent once more. His pale cheeks began to flush with embarrassment and some of the previous hostility he had entered the bar with swiftly returned to his body. If anyone said something to him about what just happened so help them...

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Richard Phoenix
Male • 27 y/o • Black-shouldered Peacock
Location: Bar • Mentions: {Directly} Open / {Indirectly} Oliver, Phineas, Wyclef, Cleo, Greg

After many more minutes spent lingering near the back of the bar Richard finally concluded if he had to be here he might as well try to enjoy himself. Phineas didn’t look like he was going anywhere. Slipping through the crowd, just narrowly avoiding bumping into people, he approached the counter, reading over the list of drinks. Phineas was already on his third and it was only a matter of time before he started making a fool of himself. Someone had to be responsible. Though maybe he would make an effort not to overdo it in order to keep the conversation going with his clearly sober company.

Richard asked for water despite the bartender’s attempts to talk him into ordering something more fruity and expensive. Alcohol was never much to his taste regardless, bitter and unappealing. Thin fingers tapped across the countertop in boredom, at a loss for what to do with himself. Sapphire gaze seeking out anything of interest, he caught some of the conversation between a pair of bear shifters before the woman made a swift exit. Between a man having his head nearly cracked open on a table and a dramatic family dispute at least the night was proving eventful. To his left he found a man seemingly drowning his sorrows in liquor, but paid him little mind, eyes sweeping over the crowd once more.

Quinn
Male | 31 | Wolfhound x Deerhound
Location: Bar
Mentions: Richard, Phin, Oliver, Greg

Bars where were Quinn was usually found and tonight was no exception. He knew this bar tended to attract shifters. He liked being around his own kind... usually. Tonight he'd felt like playing pool, but that seemed unlikely. One table had a group of lion shifters who growled when he walked by. The other had been taken over by various prey animals who glanced nervously at him. Neither were eager to let him play, so he'd picked a table and begun nursing drinks. He'd watched as a flamingo shifter beat up a human and every part of him wanted to join in. He was bred for violence, and it tended to follow him, nipping at his heels. Flexing his hands and letting out a breath had quelled the feeling. A flamingo wouldn't be much of a fight anyway.

As he eyed the bar goers, Quinn took note of the variety; lions, exotic birds, wolverine, bison, even... an elk?
He licked his lips. Elk were a rarity around here and he was keen to talk to it, but his spot was quickly taken by another. He caught himself mid-teeth baring and composed himself. He'd only just spotted it and he'd already had someone swoop in. He grabbed his glass and headed towards the bar. It was fine. He sniffed as he approached and noted that his replacement was a peacock. He growled, trying to resist glassing the bird. He wasn't fond of them. Most people mistook him for one due to the tattoos and seemed disappointed when he corrected them. It wasn't like peacocks had a monopoly on eye imagery. They didn't hold the rights to anything aside from inbreeding. He glanced over the peacock. Pretty face, well-kept, fine clothes. He was likely a Phoenix. Not a literal one, of course, but part of the family. An obnoxious name for an obnoxious family.

He settled a seat away. The bird's back was turned to him and he could listen in to their conversation. If things went badly he might be able to regain his seat and quarry. He overheard the flirting and the blatant acknowledgement that they were both shifters. He rolled his eyes. He hated listening to this crap. Prey animals were always so prey. Predators introduced themselves, much like the bears and lioness had. They were upfront. Prey were so hesitant and ready to bolt. It's pathetic. The drama between two bears brought a new option to the table. The older bear had a cane and seemed almost unsteady on his feet. An injured bear would be interesting. He almost changed seats to go test the bear's waters when he heard tapping to his side. He turned to find what smelt like another peacock. From the looks of it, the pair were brothers. His irritation towards the birds faded. A pair of peacocks would do nicely, much better than a bear. Quinn leant against the bar, watching as the bird surveyed the area. What a curious thing. Birds rarely went looking for anything, they were much to delicate for that, yet here was one actively looking for something. Conversation perhaps? Or maybe someone to take home? Considering the water he ordered, he was hoping to keep his wits about him. He'd be a challenge, but Quinn liked challenges.
"Looking for someone?" He asked, signalling to one of the bartenders to refill his scotch. "More family perhaps?" His head tilted briefly to Phineas, his golden eyes never leaving Richard. He made no effort of hiding his inspection of the bird. Taller but not as thin as his brother, the pale skin and freckles replaced with a slight tan. The pair had traces of the other in their bone structure, but the blue eyes really gave them away. A deep sapphire, like the deepest depths of the ocean, shared between them. Quinn found himself staring into them, enthralled by the colour. He wondered if his bird form was the same shade, or perhaps more brilliant. He'd have to find out, but not here. Quinn took a sip of scotch, enjoying the smokey burn of its taste and the small spark of bravery it gave. He much preferred this brother to the elk-thief. He gave a sly grin and settled in for the hunt.

Oliver | Male | 28 | Roosevelt Elk
Location: Bar
Mentions: Phineas, Quinn

It was tempting to succumb to the man's offer, but Oliver did not wish to waste his money when he did not need to. "I truly appreciate the offer, but this drink will do just fine. I did not come here looking for something to please my taste buds," he explained, hoping the man would not push further. In a much softer voice, as if ashamed at his lack of experience, he admitted: "This is my first time at a bar, to be perfectly honest. I must say, I am not a big fan." The overwhelming smells assaulted his nose, and the beginnings of a migraine were already starting to creep at the edges of his head. At least it provided a decent distraction from the reason he had sought out the bar in the first place.

It was then that a distinctly canine scent hit Oliver's nose, and it took all of his control to not panic and sprint out of the bar. He could not quite place the exact breed, but there was certainly a hint of Scottish Deerhound, and that was all he needed to know he was not in an ideal position. As far as he could tell, he was the only Cervidae shapeshifter at the bar, which normally would not have bothered him had someone with the alternate form of a canine bred to hunt his species not entered the bar. The multitude of bear scents was worrying enough on its own - it may have been uncommon for shapeshifters to pray upon others of their kind, but it was not unheard of, nor would Oliver put it past one to attack an easy target such as himself. He was intelligent, brilliant even, but physically? He was next to useless.

Oliver had been so caught up in his nervous thoughts that he had forgotten there was a man attempting to hold a conversation with him. Ears reddening in embarrassment, he returned his attention to the peacock shapeshifter before him, although his dark eyes would scan his surroundings nervously every few moments. "My apologies, I was distracted for a bit there," he said, this time unable to refrain from removing his glasses and cleaning them with the hem of his shirt. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably, not wanting to remain in the bar for much longer.


Jack | Male | 16 | N/A
Location: Outside the bar
Mentions: Dante

Jack nodded. "Yeah, I just moved into an apartment a few blocks down about a month ago and it's been tough finding a job," he lied, but he held Dante's gaze as if daring him to find flaw in his answer. His old compulsive lying habits were starting to kick in. It was always something different: his mother had passed away and he had moved into her apartment to sort out her things, he was a traveler and was only settling temporarily, he came into the city looking for a fresh start after a crazy past. Never did he admit that he had been homeless for half his life and had to rely on stealing to be able to afford to eat. It was actually rather pathetic to think about, but to Jack, it was life. Lie, steal, survive. Those were the three things he was good at, and the three things he knew how to do.

"How long have you been here?" he asked, not recognizing Dante's face. Jack knew a lot of people in the city (whether or not they knew him was another story entirely), so to see an unfamiliar face piqued his interest - especially one so interesting. Jack found himself studying the man's snake scale tattoos, fascinated and curious as to whether or not the ink was a hint towards an alternate form. He certainly hoped so. Oh, how he wished he could immediately identify shifters just by looking at them. But alas, he was nothing more than a normal teenager - a homeless one at that. What a wonderful, miserable life.


Buff | Male | 39 | Plains Bison
Location: Bar
Mentions: Greg, Obroox, Cleo

Buff watched the event unfold around him, an eyebrow raised as a small lady reeking of bear came storming into the bar and apparently seemed to know the man with a limp sitting next to him. He had perked up, expecting a fight or at least an argument, only to be sorely disappointed by all of the silence between the two bear shifters. What kind of a fight was this? He huffed and turned back towards the bartender, deciding that the conflict going on behind him was unimportant and not worth his time. He was about to order an actual drink when he realized the bartender was completely invested in the two bears and even had tears in his eyes, apparently emotional over that kind of stuff. Buff couldn't help the snort that escaped him, although not even he was sure whether it was out of amusement or disdain. Probably both, knowing him.

The bartender finally seemed to snap out of his emotional state when Greg sat back down, and Buff watched as he took the older man's drink back with a faint smirk. Gregory was giving off every indication that he didn't want to talk about the event that had just unfolded, but Buff was curious, and possibly a little nosy. "Family troubles, eh?" he asked, the only indication in his expression that he was genuinely curious evident in his raised eyebrow. He hadn't forgotten about wanting to order a drink, but he could wait. The bartender was clearly engrossed in keeping Greg sober, and Buff would hate to distract him from his "mission".


Emma Kate | Female | 26 | American Flamingo
Location: Bar
Mentions: Kade

Emma Kate ordered a simple bourbon from the bartender, not wanting anything over-the-top. After all, she was already a bit drunk, and she liked to tell herself that whiskey wasn't nearly as strong as some of the other drinks at the bar. It wasn't a complete lie, but it also wasn't a very good idea to drink whiskey if she didn't want to get more drunk, but she supposed it didn't really matter in the end. She could hold her own in a fight even while drunk, if not better, as she had more adrenaline and was much more eager to fight than when sober. So what was the harm?

A borderline-maniacal grin appeared on her face when Kade came out with her alternate form. A lioness, eh? Emma Kate always did love lions, their grace and strength in particular. "I'd be more than happy to come over some time," she replied, grin easing into something calmer and genuinely pleased with the offer. Her gaze slid over to the bartender when Kade pointed him out, and she shook her head. "Don't know him personally, but I do know that his name is Obroox. That's about it, though. Although something tells me you might be right," she said, eyeing the drink names and rolling her eyes. What was it with shifters and puns? She didn't even have to be able to smell to know that Obroox was a bear shifter when he made it so blatantly obvious. It was a wonder someone hadn't called the cops on him yet, although the majority of the customers were shifters, so maybe it wasn't such a surprise.


Kalahan | Male | 8 | Black Rhino
Location: Outside the bar
Mentions: Tobias, Cleo

Kal shrugged, only half paying attention to the man, thoroughly captivated by his dog. "Not really," he said, not really processing the older man's words as he was too caught up in petting the pitbull to listen closely. When Piper's owner suggested he put Mouse in the car, he nodded in agreement. "Good idea!" Grabbing Mouse's collar, he practically dragged him back to the van, the Great Dane unwillingly complying. Kal shut the door behind him, hearing an upsetting whine come from the dog but knowing it was for his own good. He didn't want to have to chase after Mouse again, especially not when it had apparently been dangerous.

Kal had been walking back towards Piper and her owner when a very familiar face caught the corner of his eye. He beamed, turning to watch his mother come out of the bar happily. "Mama!" he called, about to cross the street to meet her and then realizing that probably wasn't the best idea after what had happened last time he did so while chasing after Mouse. "I made a new friend!" he told her, pointing excitedly back towards his new dog friend and the man on the other side of her leash.

[ Gregory Black ]
Male • 30 y/o • Eurasian Brown Bear
Location: Bar • Mentions: {Directly} Buff, Obroox

Greg only became more aggravated when it became clear Obroox would not be serving him any drinks. Who was he to meddle in his affairs or decide what he could and couldn’t drink? His icy gaze bore into Obroox like a metaphorical dagger before the unpleasantly domineering musk emanating from the looming bison shifter had his nose wrinkling slightly as he turned to face the much larger man.

The stranger was clearly being nosy, daring to outright ask about the encounter. Didn’t people have any manners!? “Mind your own business,” he replied curtly, stiffly turning away from Buff until he was staring at his fellow bear shifter once more. “Since it appears you don’t know how to be an unbiased server, what non-alcoholic drinks do you have to offer, and don’t suggest anything overly fruity or with a ridiculous name,” he growled through gritted teeth, not even attempting to hide his growing irritation.

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Dante Peña Rodríguez
Male • 19 y/o • Eastern Diamondback Rattlesnake
Location: Outside Bar • Mentions: {Directly} Jack / {Indirectly} Wrench

Dante’s eyes narrowed slightly as if he didn’t believe the answer he received, but he didn’t push for more details. He’d heard this same story from other street kids more times than he could count and he wasn’t exactly in a position to judge. “Yeah, I feel you. I’d probably be unemployed too if I didn’t work for my uncle. He runs that garage off North Belmont. You know it? If you’re serious about holding down a job I could maybe hook you up with a little something.” He expected the offer would be rejected, and he didn’t exactly expect the kid to trust a random stranger he met skulking outside a bar, but he was interested in what is excuse would be.

“I’ve lived around here since I was 10, but I was born in Miami,” he replied simply. No need to inform the younger teen he’d been in a juvenile detention center from ages 16-17 and spent the last two years skipping between towns and living temporarily with various members of a gang before finally settling in with his uncle in an attempt to actually have any chance at a normal life. “I spent a few months there visiting family.” The sound of an engine abruptly going silent had him pausing, he’d heard the quiet hum of it for the past few minutes now, before Jack even showed up and been sent on his way by the bouncer still guarding the entrance and shooting suspicious glances their way every now and again.

The lack of it now had him scanning the dark parking lot, expecting someone new would be entering the bar soon. If he had been alone or with another shifter he would have risked flicking out his tongue to get a whiff of whatever might be coming, but he couldn’t risk exposing himself in front of a human. Not even he was that brazen.

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Phineas Phoenix
Male • 23 y/o • Black-shouldered Peacock
Location: Bar • Mentions: {Directly} Oliver / {Indirectly} Quinn, Richard

There was a brief moment of disappointment when the other man refused his offer to buy him a drink, but the good natured smile never left his face and only the most observant of people would have noticed his fleeting dismay. “If you insist,” he replied with a shrug, taking a moment to down some of his own drink before eying the half empty glass and debating whether or not to just drink it all. He could feel himself growing a bit tipsy and decided against it. A few more sips and he wouldn’t remember anything else that happened for the rest of the night.

He raised an eyebrow upon being told it was the elk shifter’s first time in a bar. He didn’t look too old, but certainly a few years Phineas’ senior. “I know you said you were having a rough night, but if you’ve spent most of your life away from this sort of establishment why start coming now?” He asked curiously, completely oblivious to the fact they were being watched. “I can tell you now pal, you aren’t going to find the answers to life or your problems in a bar.” It was then he noticed Oliver kept shooting nervous glances around the bar and faltered in his attempt at sagely advice, breathing in the surrounding scents. It was hard to pick out anything distinct with so many shifters in the same room, but eventually he spotted the cause of his new friend’s distress.

A man had approached his brother a few seats down, clearly a canine of some sort. Phineas snorted, turning back to gaze at Oliver with an unworried expression. “Don’t worry about that guy. We’re in a public place so he won’t try anything and even if he does my brother will take care of it. That’s him over there,” he added, nodding in Richard’s direction. “He knows how to handle predators.” The thought of being in close proximity to a person who could easily murder him didn’t appear to be as troubling to Phineas as it was to Oliver, and he appeared genuinely relaxed despite the circumstances. “If you want though, maybe we could go somewhere else? I’m sure Richard will keep him busy enough for us to make a quick getaway.”

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Richard Phoenix
Male • 27 y/o • Black-shouldered Peacock
Location: Bar • Mentions: {Directly} Quinn / {Indirectly} Oliver, Phineas

Richard noted Quinn’s approach even before the canine shifter slid up to the counter on his other side, waving one of the bartenders over to refill his drink. “Just people watching,” he replied evenly, neither tone nor expression giving away the growing wariness coiling in his stomach. It was perhaps a bit of a forgotten fact among other species beyond his own kind and that of the man before him, but sport hunting of fowl shifters, especially peacocks, by those who changed forms to the canine variety was a frequent bit of repeated history. Most bird shifters were raised to be cautious around all predators, but especially dogs.

He didn’t like the way the stranger’s head tilted toward Phineas as he continued speaking. Quinn had clearly been observing them before making his way over and Richard was disappointed by his own failure to spot and keep an eye on him first. He wasn’t particularly keen on talking to the dog, and if he were alone he likely would have proven more dismissive, but there was always the chance he would start skulking around his brother if he turned him away and Richard concluded if talking to Quinn kept him away from his kin it would be worth humoring his uninvited company.

“There are plenty of interesting people here after all,” he pointed out, voice remaining casual, not overly welcoming, yet one couldn’t consider it unfriendly either. “And you’ve clearly been doing some of that yourself.” He subtly examined the newcomer more closely in an attempt to determine his breed. It was always best to know what one was dealing with. He was tall, rivaling the elk that had currently captured Phineas’ attention. Likely a large breed then. He didn’t have the muscle for something like a Mastiff in his opinion, but appearances could be deceiving. Richard wouldn’t have expected the scrawny, short man with the cane a few seats down to be a bear, but a shifter’s human form did more commonly reflect their animal in his experience.

He wasn’t overly thin either, leanly built and exuding undeniable power. Richard’s best guess was a sighthound. Especially considering the man seemed to have an eye for detail. A dog bred for the hunt. Fantastic. He wasn’t entirely sure if the predator was here simply to spook him as predators sometimes like to do, perhaps holding more sadistic desires that longed for the taste of bird flesh, or more simply intended to hit on him. Some predator and prey shifters had a thing for opposites, he’d noticed. He’d had a friend or two who enjoyed the thrill of being with someone deadly, bragging about spending a night with a tiger or dating a crocodile for a week.

The man’s hair was a deep red, his skin so dark he nearly blended with the shadows of the dimly lit room. Other than his hair, the man’s eyes were his brightest feature, a vibrant gold that shimmered under the lamp fixtures hanging above their heads. He couldn’t deny that the fellow was rather striking, his appearance demanding attention. If Richard weren’t so uncertain of his intentions he might have even allowed himself to find the man attractive. Current circumstances had him denying the notion however. It mattered little in the end either way. He wasn’t here in the hopes of a hook-up.

“Wolfhound?” He ended up guessing, his own gaze holding a knowing glint. He didn’t have much concerns anyone overhearing the conversation would find it odd. All the bartenders appeared to be shifters like them as were the surrounding patrons. The only customers he suspected might be humans were too far off to listen in. Even if they had eavesdropped he doubted they would be smart enough to connect the dots.

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Tobias Ahlström
Male • 30 y/o • Shire Horse
Location: Outside Bar • Mentions: {Directly} Kalahan, Cleo

Some of the anxiety viciously gripping his stomach loosened once the large dog was safely secured in the car. Now he could focus solely on the boy, and his mother once she made an appearance, without worrying the Great Dane might run off again or potentially try to defend his master if things got out of hand. He glanced down somewhat apprehensively at Piper, seemingly overjoyed by Kal’s attention. She had never given him even an inkling she might hold aggressive tendencies, but she had never had the chance to respond to a tense situation.

The thought of dealing with a very possibly drunk, angered woman and a protective pitbull was not an especially ideal situation. The boy hadn’t answered his inquiry regarding whether his mother often left him alone in parking lots either and that didn’t bode well. Suddenly Kal called out “Mama!” and Tobias’ whole body tensed and he followed Kal’s gaze, steeling himself for the confrontation. The first thing he noticed was the woman was rather short, practically a dwarf in comparison to himself, with a somewhat dainty appearance. Her hair was short and a pale blonde that almost looked more of an off-white under the light of the moon, her eyes a much darker, piercing blue that seemed to hold a hint of silver. Her gait was steady, lacking the uneven steps you would expect from someone intoxicated, her gaze clear, but her expression looking a tad disconcerted. She hadn’t spotted him yet so whatever had happened in the bar must have proven unsettling.

As she drew closer he realized with surprise the small woman smelled very strongly of bear, polar bear to be exact. He glanced between Cleo and Kal with some confusion, as the boy scented of rhino. Maybe he was adopted? Or perhaps his father was a rhino? Tobias wasn’t quite sure how offspring would work with shifters whose animal forms were incompatible. He wouldn’t even know what either were if he hadn’t visited a zoo after his first few shifts, curious to know what other animals would smell like. Piper yipped happily at the appearance of a new friend, the conflicting scents of human and bear coming off Cleo apparently no reason for concern in her eyes.

{{My apologies for the delay and awful replies...to be fair I am ill so I have an excuse this time for once.}}