The Broken Bottle Pub

[Zackary Kalen]

Zack's head rolled slightly from its semi-permanent position on the bar to peer at Felix,

"But the bed is comfy. He's done nothing to deserve the comfy... except maybe drinking some half-demon under the bar. But that does not entitle him to a comfortable bed for the night."

Zack remained quiet for a few moments, before sitting up and cracking his neck.

"Need a hand with that?"

[Felix Dolohov]

Felix glanced over at him, "No its alright. You look like you're about to pass out. Go to bed," the bartender told him, a frown stole over his face, "Where is your shirt anyway? You never did say."

[Zackary Kalen]

"My shirt?"

Zack swung his legs round and slid off the bar stool,

"At the dry cleaners. I can pick it up in two days." He stretches out his back and lets out a relieved sounding sigh as it apparently cracks, "I left the bill with Kana, but I doubt he's gonna pay it. Then again, I doubt the dry cleaners will go chasing either of us up for it."

He shrugs.

[Felix Dolohov]

Felix arched an eyebrow at him, "You know if you just leave it to soak in cold water and baking soda over night then you wouldn't have to waste money on the cleaners," he pointed out as he set the last of the glasses in the machine and bumped it shut with his hip as he put the wire tray beside the bin. He had to admit though, he doubted if any of them would actually chase a member of the Lemartes for money - not if they had any common sense anyway.

He hit the switch for the main lights to better encourage the less cognisant members of the punters to leave as he began to wipe down the bar with a damp cloth. He would leave the vaccuuming and mopping for tomorrow when he got up and dealt with the drunkards and Dillon. Speaking of, the Slayer had been disturbingly quiet since Madoc pointed out which one of his swords was Stabbity.

[Zackary Kalen]

"Yeah, I know. But I was in a bad mood and the thought of charging Kana for my dry cleaning was rather cathartic."

He shrugs, and sticks his hands in the pocket of his trousers.

"Right-o. I'm off."

And with that, he vanishes into the back of the pub, taking some care not to step on Madoc's head on the way. Not much care though, because he was in a bad mood and he was pretty sure any pained grunts Madoc would make from being stepped on would be especially pleasing to his less than happy mood.

[Felix Dolohov]

Shaking his head and yawning slightly, the blond began to wipe down the table tops and set the stools on top of the tables, seats down. That done, he went back to the till and began to bag the money and change, print off the receipt reel and make a few notes in the order book about what they'd run out of that night - needed to order some more wine, a woman from earlier had cleared them of the house white demanding spritzers.

He then locked the Bar door after making sure that none of the regulars had fallen asleep in the toilets - pulling a face when he discovered someone had certainly thrown up in them, he would clean that tomorrow, he was too tired to be bothered right now.

Sleep time now, and he was careful not to step on Madoc's head as he went past.

[Dillon Rickman]

((Sorry guys for slow posting, I've been seriously sick yesterday, still off work now on official orders, so I don't spread it. Kinda sucks))

The best part about being an insane slayer like Dillon was that nobody tried to chuck you out of the bar. In fact, if you just sat at the bar silent and still drinking after closing time, people left you to it. That meant Dillon had free night time access to his lair (the closet under the stairs).

In fact, all he did was sit there, listen to Zack and Felix's conversation about bed, wait til they both left, and then turned to the empty bar, and said with a cheer:

"Called it!" Before turning around and walking to the closet. (Dillon wasn't drunk. He was never drunk. 'Drunk' implied that you could get stupider, and that didn't happen to Dillon). He shut the door, and exactly what he was planning to get up to in there (sleeping meant that Dillon's hyperactive brain had to shut down for a while) was left to people's imaginations.

[Felix Dolohov]

(( DD8 Poor Leigh. *sends hot chocolate and hugs through the internet* I know how it feels to be banned from work due to health reasons - my Boss and Nicholas practically banished me from the office when I got flu. I nearly went insane with boredom.

Speaking of, shall we timeskip to the next morning when Carla and Madoc wake up with hangovers and Dillon terrifies them giggling maniacally in his closet?))

[Dillon Rickman]

((Sounds like a plan to me

I'm literally banished from work, actually. NHS rules. If you actually vomit (even once, actually, but I was sick loads) you're not allowed back for 48 hours in case you have an infection that could be really dangerous to elderly/frail patients.))

[Felix Dolohov]

((*sends more hugs?* Who should start anyway? Carla? Dillon? Felix? Or should we wait until later tonight so either Zack or Madoc can wake up? *has a meeting this afternoon so won't be able to post*))

[Dillon Rickman]

((Heh. Thanks. And, well, it's your bar ))

[Felix Dolohov]

((==; I'll take that as a 'your bar - your post' situation.))


Being the only one awake in the not so early hours of the morning was one of those odd things where the world seemed to be caught in some kind of void of energy and life. Like everything slows down and becomes fuzzy and you can't help but shuffle around listlessly, not wanting to do anything but knowing you have to but trying to be quiet about it so you didn't wake anyone else up. It was neither welcome nor uncommon to Felix by this point in time. There were moments when he wondered why Madoc and Zack didn't just move in - it would certainly save them having to make the distance between their homes to where they usually slept and/or spent eighty percent of their time. Dillon already did live there - it was afterall where he kept his Not So Secret Evil Lair where he spent almost every waking moment, whenever he wasn't out terrorising the general population and giving the EHPD sore lungs from laughter - or at least just the floppy brown haired guy.

Still half asleep and nursing a mug of tea, Felix was half-heartedly mopping the bar floor, radio set to a low volume that couldn't be heard outside of the bar. He really didn't want to deal with the puke currently festering in the mens' crapper, he would handle that when he was awake and less likely to murder everyone in their sleep. Sitting on one of the bar stools he rubbed his face and finished his tea, just blearily staring into space now.

[Madoc Wythers]

Madoc woke up, sat up, yawned, stretched and then lay back down holding his head. He looked around blearily, sleep clouding his eyes. Carla still lay on the sofa. He blinked. Waking up in the same room as a woman, fully clothed and in the knowledge that nothing had happened was an interesting experience for him.

After a few minutes, he decided he wasn't getting back to sleep and forced himself to get up. He staggered sleepily through the door to the bar in search of one thing. He vaguely registered that Felix was sitting at the bar already and grunted a greeting to him before stumbling around the bar and in to the bathrooms. He could have gone upstairs and used the one in the house, but that meant stairs.

A few seconds after the door had closed, a loud "eeewwwwww" drifted out of the bathroom and into the bar, followed soon after by Madoc. Dragging one foot along the ground a little, he plonked himself down on a stool next to Felix and lifted up his foot to inspect the damage. To make things worse, he'd managed to kick his shoes and socks off during the night.

"Someone's puked in there, you know." He said in a hoarse voice. He coughed and then continued "I only bloody stepped in it..."

[Carla Glenn]

Carla awoke with a painful groan and that sinking, instant sense of regret that set in after knowing you'd spent the previous night doing something extremely stupid.

She got up slowly, cringing at the pain in her neck. Sofas weren't quite the nice beds she usually managed to sleep on. She was just glad nobody here knew who she was (as far as she knew). As head of a powerful organisation of demons (even if it had diminished a little of late) being the one who kipped on the sofa didn't really set the right impression.

She lost the blanket and cringed a little at the idea of being in last night's clothes. Still, Carla was probably one of the few people who wore less during the day than she did to bed, so she figured it could have been worse. (She also insisted to herself this choice of dress wasn't just to look like a slut, but to have quick access to her electricity powers if needed without needing to remove her legs; she could generate a shock from any exposed skin).

She staggered out to the bar, her head pounding from all the drink the night before, and managed to collapse on a barstool.
"Please tell me I can have a glass of water before you kick my ass out." She mumbled, intentionally averting her eyes from the bar mirror so that she didn't have to see what she looked like right now.

[Felix Dolohov]

Felix watched as the human shuffled out of the living room and into the bar, making a beeline for the mens. The blond went to sip his tea only to remember he'd finished it and set it aside just in time to hear the rather girly squeal from the bathroom and fought off a smirk - he really had been hanging around Zack too much.

Any amusement he may have felt soon evaporated as the human appeared smearing his foot on the floor he'd just mopped and getting it dirty again with nasty vomit. He watched as he sat down and checked his shoe over.

"Yes," Felix confirmed flatly, "I know."