The Bar

"Magic is sentient. Kind of. I think." Katters frowns. "Where I'm from, at least — and, I gather, many other places. In my experience, one should avoid experimenting on things that can hold grudges, and are capable of killing you, or worse."

 

"Funny you mention that: that's pretty much what we're doing. The apocalypse thing is really not surprising, to be honest," answered Dom, a smile on his face. "At least, most of the Order is remortal. Though it does suck for anyone who doesn't respawn."

 

"Well, I hope you're getting some good results, at least."

 

"I've never seen it hurt anyone who wasn't trying to blow it up or some stupid shit, but when people start playing with it I guess it wants in on the fun." Riya laughs. "It'll prank you hard if you try to outsmart it. Been there, done that, now we have an agreement and I hardly ever get lost in the endless storeroom anymore."

 

"Tell you what, I won't blow up the bar if you bring me an irish coffee." Katters grins. "Very irish."

 

Another laugh, and after a moment she brings over a mug that's more alcohol content than caffeine. "Just like mama used to make."

 

"I think I'll take... Uh..."
Dom takes a look at the menu, which is not really helping.
"... I'll just have some apple juice, please."

 

"You.. 'respawn?'" Berit asks belatedly. "What's that?" The concept reminds her uncomfortably of archdemons.

 

"It's the shortest way I've heard it described", Dom answered. "I should have guessed people here wouldn't know about remortality..."
"Basically, there are people, where I'm from, who come back when they die. As in, their body disappears, they go through a hopefully short stay in Limbo, and then they fall back to the world from the sky."

 

A hot, dry breeze sweeps through the bar as the door slams open, letting a gangly youth swagger in. He sweeps one thin-fingered hand through his brightly dyed hair and shivers involuntarily, glancing around the bar as he lets the door swing shut behind him. Giant spider, elves, hot bartender - pretty standard, as far as he can tell.

"Well fuck, it's cold in here, innit?" He complains to no one in particular, though his voice definitely carries across the whole bar. He spares a surreptitious glance at the lone coat rack and rubs his bare, freckled shoulders - maybe today hadn't been a great day to wear a shirt with no sleeves, after all.

 

"Not as cold as it is outside," Nat says. "This is a pretty good place to wait out a storm."

 

Raoul snorts. "Pal, I just stepped in from Arizona, and I'm from Australia. So when I say this place is fuckin' freezing, I mean it." He glances at the coat rack again, almost longingly, as he hovers about the threshold. "Anyone mind if I filch one of these mad quick?"

 

"Well, if you're from someplace hot, then wouldn't most places seem cold by comparison?" Riaa asked thoughtfully.

 

Mina bares her fangs at him in something that just barely counts as a grin. "Der cape is mine. Hy don´t tink hyu vant eet."

 

Katters takes a drink, then raises it to Riya. "Just what I needed. Thanks."

"Does it bite?"

 

"No bot hy do." Her glass is mysteriously empty. "Hoy, ken hy haf sum ov dot eyereesh coffee Meestress Barkeep?"

 

"What's 'coffee?'"

 

Mina stared at him in exagerated shock. "Hyu don´t know vot coffee iz? Hyu poor poor gurl. Hy need to buy hyu sum. Iz dere bestz ting effer made eef hyu gotz a long cold vatch."

 

"Hot bean juice. Warms you up, and wakes you up."

"I'll drink to that," Katters says, and drinks.

 

"I have had my share of cold watches.." says Berit, in an attempt to be diplomatic. But she looks very skeptical.