A drink to the living (open)

It had been a long day and an even longer night. True to his nature, Xeph had spent most of the day at the vet clinic, and then had put in three-quarters of a shift at the hospital as well. He'd foregone driving that morning, so he didn't have to be horribly responsible. It was a nice night, the pub was inviting; he decided to ponder the situation between the Sorensen family and Nikhila's visitors over a cold beer.

Try as he might, Xeph could not fathom what the two had in common. Top it off with the presence of another werewolf saturating Reign's house and yard, and he was doubly confused. It was almost worth checking out again, except he was sure her wolf-friend had picked up his scent by now. From the smell of it, whoever had been frequenting her home had been doing so quite often.

Still, maybe it was worth it to swing by later tonight, on foot, as plain old Dr. Dan. Hell, for all he knew this were had nothing whatsoever to do with the break-in; in fact, it was likely the case. He didn't know many hit-and-run artists who stuck around the scene of the crime for days on end.

Ugh, the entire situation was just unnerving. Xeph accepted his beer from the bartender with a nod and a casual salute, turning to take a healthy swig and looking at the folks around him. There were a few mates over against one wall throwing darts, a couple people scattered here and there in various stages of drunkenness. To his left was a man who had the appearance of a biker, to his right was a redhead who looked like she was long past trying to give the appearance of holding up the bar. She looked up at the same time as he glanced at her, so he just gave her a smile and took another drink.

Hammer smoothed down his trimmed beard with his hand as he casually walked down the strip. He was happily fed and currently doing well with his aipa Steyn so a late evening stroll after a good hunt seemed appropriate. The street was filled with patrons coming in and out of local pubs and eateries - the evening air smelled of spring but still had a slight chill to it, enough so that his neatly pressed khaki long sleeve and matching slacks kept the cold at bay.

He was searching for a quiet pub, nothing fancy or teaming with hundreds of people. Relaxation was the word for the night and as he considered his options, one pub in particular stood out. Approaching the door Hammer pushed in, lowering his head out of habit so not to scrap the door frame and immediately zeroed in on his Alpha. For as different as they are, they had quite a few things in common. Walking over to the bar Hammer leaned between the Alpha and a biker, giving a nod to the bartender.

'Pint of lager, please,' he asked quietly and when the bartender pointed to the taps, Hammer shrugged leaving the decision to the man. The biker turned to look at Hammer, who looked back, then thought twice about being shoved into and turned back around.

'Oh, captain, my captain,' Hammer declared to Xeph.

At least she was a cheerful drunk, that much Val had going for her... for now. Give it thirty seconds and she might get confrontational but for now she was happy, despite Shamus' death. The bar tender brought her another and she scowled at it, not remembering what she ordered. Oh well didn't matter she decided.

Oh fresh meat, and he was pretty too. Maybe she could get something in her stomach and clear her head a bit. Although she'd probably be damned sloppy hunting right now. Lord she couldn't make up her mind, she hated that. She'd make a decision later.

She tossed a bright smile at him, careful to hide her teeth; even drunk that habit was in-grained in Val. She was -very- careful to only flash her large canines when she wanted to.

"Buy you another, Sunshine?"Â?

Her brogue was rather pronounced, but not over powering and much better than slurring her words.

"I need to make a toast and its better with two."Â?

She added giving him a reason to join her.

He was not bad to look at was he, Val decided. But he also didn't look like the type that had to troll bars to meet women. Of course he could just be out for a beer, that didn't look out of character for him either.

Almost simultaneously, Xeph was looking from redhead to biker back to redhead to... Hammer?

"Of all the bars in Nachton," he muttered good-naturedly to his Beta by way of greeting - or something.

Returning the redhead's smile with one of his own, he quickly finished off his beer and said, "By all means."

It wasn't every day a cute woman offered to buy him a beer instead of the other way around. Hammer had a drink in hand as well, so he gave the man a nudge with his elbow and said, "Why not make it three? The more the merrier."

Hammer looked over at the red head and raised his eyebrows at Xeph. 'Taking your meals a little marinated now, are we?'

His pint delivered, Hammer took several large gulps out of his mug and licked the foam off his top lip. The red head raised her drink in a toast, which Hammer reluctantly did for fear of being seen as sociable. Still, he nodded and then took another gulp of his lager, finishing it off. Another older bartender came by, planting her hands on the bar in front of Hammer, waiting for his request.

'Another lager please.'

'Right you are, my love,' she said in a thick cockney accent.

'Oh and whatever these two are having - on my tab.'

Oh friends! Val wasn't at all put off by this turn of events, the more the merrier as far as she was concerned. That said she beamed brightly at the new arrival, who had his own appeal.

"Smashing."Â?

This was a new bar tender and just the accent was enough to make Val want to hop the bar and tear the girl's throat out. She muttered in Gaelic 'fucking English pigs' and watched the girl damned close, not trusting her for the moment. It was her kind that had killed Shamus and any number of others. But the drinks were brought and the girl left and Val recovered her good humor.

Now it was supposed to be a drink to the living and then a toast to the dead. But Val felt she had the drink to the living covered, besides it would be a hell of a lot harder to explain her relationship to Giovanni than to Shamus. So a toast to the dead it was.

Solemnly raising her glass she wished her absent friend well.

"To fallen comrades. May you be in heaven a full half hour before the devil knows you're dead. God speed Shamus. Sláinte!"Â?

Her eyes had gotten a bit misty, but Val recovered quickly and drained the pint in one go. She couldn't do less drinking to Shamus' memory.

Well between the redhead and Hammer, it looked like his drinks were covered. So Xeph raised his bottle and drank a toast to Shamus, whoever that fine gentleman was.

"Friend of yours?"

Or... perhaps former friend. It had been an odd kind of toast, but by the sound of it this woman's friend had recently passed away. Xeph suddenly had a feeling he might have bitten off more than he could chew. Hopefully he wouldn't end up being the shoulder for this poor drunken sheila to cry on. Then he'd feel obligated to take her home, and there would be questions, and it would be awkward ALL around.

Not that Xeph wasn't a decent sort of fellow, and not that he wouldn't do those things, but damn... he had just meant to stop in for a drink!

Val threw her head out and laughed merrily, although she did hide the laugh behind her hand. It was often seen as a modest habit, but it was again a strategy for keeping things covered.

“Shamus would be down right insulted if I called him a friend and I’d rather he’d not haunt me.”

She scowled at the empty glass. She would have ordered another but didn’t want to deal with the Limy again. Not just yet. Where was the cute guy who’d been here an hour ago? Damned shift changes.

“He was something more than that. Ran into a bit of trouble and is no longer with us. Of course, they buried the bastard already so I don’t even get to say good-bye properly. I’m going to miss him a great deal.”

Her own personal little Irish wake right here in this bar. It was going well so far. Again, she teared up a bit, not enough to actually cry but it was noticeable. But Val stubbornly wiped the tears away and found a grin.

“But enough of that. What brought you two fine gentlemen in here.”

Waylon walked the down the strip in a bad mood. The last few hours had driven him up the wall and what he needed now was a to get some alcohol in his system. Normally a good fight and feeding was what he would look for in these circumstances, but both of those urges were taken care of last night during a somewhat bloody encounter with a group of street thugs. Waylon could get mean but he did feel like the mess last night went a bit overboard. No, tonight was gonna be just about getting drunk. That would be the ticket.

Coming up on a reasonably calm looking little pub he promptly heel-turned and walked into the wall of smoke and booze. Taking stock of the situation as he entered, Waylon took note of the small groups of people scattered around the room, all looking like they came here for one purpose: to get drunk. And that was something he would gladly partake in.

Heading for the bar, Waylon parked himself next to a slightly wobbly looking redhead with a thick Irish accent finishing up a toast to a fallen comrade. He knew how that felt and decided it would not be prudent to interrupt her and her drinking buddies' remembrance.

Waylon waved down the bartender and let her use her words to find out what he wanted.

"A pitcher of Guinness, one glass please."

When that lovely dark brew came he poured himself a pint and settled as comfortably on his stool as was possible. If all went as planned he'd be on this stool for most of the night.

The lady didn't seem to want to discuss her fallen.. er, comrade. So Xeph simply went along with her, nodded his head, and answered her question when she changed the subject.

"Well, I just came in for a drink," he said with a cordial grin. "I didn't expect to run into this bastard, but he has a knack for tracking me down."

It was said with a mock salute with his beer bottle in Hammer's direction. Xeph never outwardly showed affection to his Beta... instead he teased mercilessly. It was his style. Hammer understood.

Another man came in and settled himself at the opposite side of the bar that the redhead was on. Xeph included the man in his broad grin. Leaning back against the bar still, he continued to speak to the redhead.

"I'm Xeph, by the way. This gent is Hammerthynn."

Occasionally he ran into someone who made the connection bewteen his nickname, his real name, and his capacity as Stafford's heir... Xeph downplayed it though, and while he was used to being who he was, he wouldn't complain at all if no one mentioned that bit. He avoided socialites and "high society" in general; they all expected him to wear shoes.

Either it was the drinks before she ran into these two or it was actually drinking the toast but Val felt, for now, she'd honored Shamus quite enough. The next time she went to Ireland there would be more honoring she was sure. Possibly later tonight as well if she kept up at this pace.

In a slightly playful mood now she deliberately read more into Xeph's statement and cocked a suggestive eyebrow at him about the other tracking him down.

"I didn't think people came into pubs for just a drink any more."Â?

Her tongue flicked out and licked away a drop of beer that had escaped her. Waste not want not after all.

"Lovely. Valentine, Val if you'd rather."Â?

Val's muddled mind was trying to sort out why Xeph looked familiar, or sounded familiar. She prided her self on remembering people and faces and something about him... Ah well how important could it possibly be? Besides, he'd introduced himself so they must not have met before.

Used to a pub culture and people meeting, mixing and mingling over a pint or two, of seven or eight or more in her case, she looked up at the lone wolf with a pitcher of Guinness. At least he knew a good beer when he saw one. She winked at the new guy and nodded he should join them. No sense being all alone when you didn't have to be and if you were out in public, to her mind, you didn't want to be.

Though generally not of the sociable character, good beer in his system did tend to bring Waylon out of his shell. Noticing the greetings of the the redheads drinking buddies he quickly returned his own nod and raised his glass to the both of them.

The redhead, Val, gave her own acknowledgement of his presence and nodded in what he assumed was a 'join us' gesture. Waylon chugged down the the last of his first glass, filled it up again, walked over and and set the pitcher between Val and and her slick looking friend.

"Drink up if Guinness is your thing. And don't worry, I ain't slugged from it quite yet." he said with a smirk on his face. "But I should warn ya, after enough of these I tend to not care if someone don't like my germs on the pitcher."

Whelp, there it went, he was already letting loose with his poor sense of humor. With that he offered his hand to the three of them.

"Names Waylon, I hope I ain't interrupting anything."

With that he drug a stool over and took a seat, thinking how uncomfortable it made him to just drop in on an established conversation.

Xeph's smile grew. "A lovely name for a lovely lady," he said. Clicheed but true. He never claimed to be any good at this game anyway.

The man on the other side of Valentine apparently went by the name of Waylon. He seemed like a nice enough sort.

"You're not interrupting anything," he said. "In spite of Val's reservations, I actually just came in for a drink."

He flashed his big grim at Val again. "But if that leads to pleasant company, I can roll with it."

Hammer was apparently going to play the strong silent type, but Xeph was used to that. He briefly wondered if the Beta had come in specifically to find him for something, or if he really had just chanced on him here.

"So, having established that I'm just here drinking, Valentine's here to toast a comrade, and Hammerthynn here is just being a social butterfly, what brings you around?

He directed the question to Waylon after a brief smirk in Hammer's direction.

Again, Val’s laugh rang out. She was incredibly easy to amuse when drunk.

“A little bit of a smooth tongue you have there. Is there a woman waiting to gouge my eyes out if you keep that up… and I might just let you.”

She blatantly sized him up. Mercy there was a lot of him wasn’t there? She might be a little thing but Val was not at all put off by a challenge.

“Mmmmm no, big good looking fella like you must have at least two or three chickadees chirping after him; so I’ll be watching my back.”

Maybe that was a bit too forward, but it had certainly never stopped her before, why should it stop her now?

If she had been more on her, game Val would have sized Hammerthynn up again. He probably should have been setting off warning bells or at least made her curious. But she wasn’t on her game so all he got was a bright sociable smile. Which was quickly turned on Waylon.

“Good choice, it will put hair on your chest that.”

She let her drink distract her as Xeph asked the same question she would have.

Hammer turned and leaned back, resting his elbow on the top of the bar. He snorted softly at Xeph's introduction and grunted a salutation as he surveyed the room. Not being there on business, and even less so for social reasons, Hammer joined the conversation as much as he usually did...a couple grunts and a wary single eye. However, he figured he would try and be a little more sociable and humor his Alpha.

'Was just looking for a decent pint and a quiet evening. How was I suppose to know that you'd be here cramping my style, Xeph?' With as much as a smile as he could muster (which wasn't much of one at all) he drained his mug again, setting it on the counter.

'Another pint, if you please.'

'Right you are, my love,' answered the bartender again.

Hammerthynn blinked his single eye over at the red head, appraising her assets with slight interest.

Waylon took a deep pull on his beer and just shrugged at Xeph's inquiries. "Eh, same old shit, different day."

Letting the man wonder just what the same old shit was, Waylon paused to refill his glass and nodded at the big dude named Hammerthyn's comment.

"You and me both, But the Irish have the tendency to come in and force the unsociable to be sociable" He let a grin play across his face as he shook his head in mock disgust. "Damn them, with their out going attitudes and funny accents."

Hopefully the redhead had a decent sense of humor. Waylon was all about first impressions, despite trying to hide it at every possible encounter, and didn't want to come off looking like a dickhead. Then again, she looked lubed up enough to laugh at just about whatever he said.

Waylon let out a quite snort at Val's comment about Guinness and decided he liked the way this girl thought.

"Yep, it'll do. Wild Turkey's a better producer of chest hair, but it's too early in the night for any of that nonsense just yet."

His pitcher was getting below the half way mark so he motioned for a refill and slouched back on his bar stool.

In the back of his mind Waylon knew he should be watching his back. In this this town it wasn't smart to get too comfortable around people you didn't know, but he figured he could enjoy these folk's company and still keep an eye out for any warning signs.

Xeph gave a good laugh at Valentine's words, shaking his head and neither agreeing nor disagreeing with her. She seemed like a nice woman, but you could never tell when one was smashed, could you? And even if Xeph could find the time to actually work at a relationship, he wasn't in the habit of picking women up in bars. Still, her banter was enjoyable, and he wasn't going to stop her any more then she was stopping him.

Hammer's remark from off to his right made him guffaw. "Cramping your style? You have style?" There was a laugh. Xeph had known Hammer his whole life and had never seen the man in a lengthy or meaningful relationship of any sort. Nor were bars Hammer's particular "style" any more han they were Xeph's.

However, the good-natured ribbing between the two men was something that went back at least a couple of decades. Left to his own devices, Xeph most likely would not have taken Hammer as his beta; he'd have asked him to stay with Liam in Canberra. Hammer had followed him though at his mother's request and not only had Xeph grown to accept his company, but he could no longer conceive of a Pack without Hammer.

Turning his amiable grin back to Waylon, he said in his Aussie drawl, "Ah. The old "SOSDD" excuse. I've been there before. I guess I'm there now."

As the conversation quickly shifted completely onto the topic of alcohol, Xeph shook his head once again.

"Put hair on your chest? Wild Turkey's more apt to remove it if you ask me."

He couldn't help it; he was a beer man. Wild Turkey always reminded him vaguely of paint thinner.

Val was drunk she wasn’t totally out of it. She did notice Hammerthynn’s look and eyed him speculatively as well. He wasn’t bad looking, but he also didn’t seem like the sort to pick up a stranger in a bar and she wasn’t looking for a date either, so she let her attention drift away.

That damned accent again, it grated on her nerves. It would be very easy to bring out the hostile drunk if this girl didn’t watch herself. Rather than taking out a server she laughed at Waylon’s comment.

“And a damned fine thing we’re like that too. You’d all be lost with out us. But you do have one thing wrong,”

She took a deep drink of her beer and signaled for another, trying to avoid speaking to the English pig.

“You’re the one’s with the funny accents.”

Actually up until that moment Val hadn’t realized how pronounced the her brogue had become. It did that when she was drunk or emotional. It could be both in this case.

“Now what would a lady like me want with hair on her chest? Unless of course your tastes run that way and then who am I to judge?”

She was just playing now, it was as easy to flirt with one as the other and it was all in good fun.

“I once knew a bearded lady, in the circus, and she never seemed wanting for a gentleman caller, some quite handsome. I never did figure out the attraction, I can only speculate there was something beyond the side show that she was quite good at.”

Waylon gave out a low chuckle at Xeph's comment on the hair removing qualities of Wild Turkey.

"Yeah, now that I think about it you're probably right. As much as I like that particular brand of poison, I won't deny that it could probably run a large displacement vee eight."

He laughed at the thought of actually running his Roadrunner on the stuff. Damn. He thought, as he suddenly got the hankering to go home and take a spin down the back-roads outside of town. Unconsciously, Waylon's hand twitched almost unnoticeably at the thought of jamming gears and hearing the roar of that big block.

The chuckle turned into a genuine laugh with Val's comment. "No, generally I don't prefer the sort of woman that's got more chest hair than I do." Despite wanting to crack up he forced his face to go completely blank. "Why? Do you have something you're hiding?"

Still staring unblinkingly into the redhead's eye's, Waylon took another deep pull on his his pint. Letting her ponder his playful question, he continued with what he had to say.

"And you know what? I would argue with you about who's got the funny accents, but seeing as I'm surrounded by the Commonwealth I think I'll just say that you're right."

Waylon immediately took a long drag on his beer and snickered behind his glass. That comment aught to make any red blooded Irishman boil at the least. But it was all in good fun and he figured at least Xeph would get a kick out of it.

Xeph snorted into his empty beer bottle, replacing it on the counter and reaching for the next one.

"You," he said to Waylon across Val's questionably furry chest, doing his best not to try to see if she was, indeed, hiding something, "are either way too drunk, or not drunk enough."

With that he shot the other man a grin and took a healthy swallow from the new beer.

The next comment only made him laugh harder. Holding his hands up, bottle caught loosely between the thumb and forefinger of his left hand, in the gesture of an unarmed man, he shook his head while trying not to inhale the brew.

"I'm staying out of that one before someone asks me to throw a shrimp on the barbie."

His own Aussie drawl was more than noticeable, and history had proven that anyone unfamiliar with the accent, and even many of those who were, were completely cool with asking him to repeat that particular phrase ad naseum.

“There is hiding and then there is… hiding. Ask me again in a few drinks.”

If she was still standing that was.

Catching the Aussie’s look but not a look Val gave him a questioning glance. She’d had a bit of fun flirting with him a bit. Maybe a bit more would have results. Maybe she wouldn’t care in a bit, but if she did.

Her light mood turned on a dime. Putting her in with the Commonwealth was he? If he only knew.

“Only one of us from the Commonwealth here. Common mistake and one you want to avoid in future, or you might not wake up the next day.”

It was a perfectly civil tone, she even managed a smile. But Val meant every single word of it. Another day she might not take –such- offense, but today was special.

Forcing herself back to playful, she turned back to Xeph.

“You sir, are a coward.”

She said with a twinkle in her eye. That, she didn’t mean at all.

'No, Xeph isn't a coward.' Hammer lifted his mug, draining it down to the foam. Then in his best aussie accent he said, 'The dingo just ate his bay-bee.'

It would have taken several more glasses of beer to start a nice buzz but Hammer was feeling sluggish from a long boring day. Maybe it was time for another meal and then bed - so with that he waved to his Alpha and the cowboy, nodded to the red head with a murmured 'madam' and pulled out several bills to cover their tabs. Sociable he wasn't but it didn't hurt to be gracious from time to time.

'Night, all.' And with that, Hammer slowly made his way out of the pub.

((ooc - off to eat someone. Out)

"Definitely the later." He said with a big deliberately foolish grin on his face.

With the sudden desire to make things right in that area, Waylon motioned for the bartender but noticed she was not about at the moment. That damn Brit wasn't making a good name for herself.

He raised an eyebrow and gave Val a playfully evil grin.

"Be careful, I just might." Waylon was never known for his flirting abilities in all his 119 years, but he was caught up in it now. And though he had seen the obvious flirting between the redhead and the Aussie, it never crossed his mind that his own poor attempt at flirtation might irritate Xeph. He didn't seem like the sort to let such things bother him but you could never tell with some people.

Despite the woman's civil tone, Waylon could tell by her mannerism that she meant for her words to be taken quite seriously. That cut the cowboy out of any buzz the Guinness might have caused. Waylon looked Val square in the eyes and let his grin fade away and moved in to show that he meant no disrespect to her or the brave Irishmen that had fought English rule.

"That, my friend, is the sort of statement I like to hear. You just told me in so many words that you are not about to take any disrespect towards Eire, or those that died for her freedom. And I believe every word you said."

A new grin then attached itself to his face.

"Besides, with a surname like O'Seighin, I tend towards sympathy for the Emerald Isle. I myself would kill any man that had the balls to insult the men and women that died fighting the English in defence of Ireland"

Before he could get off his soapbox and order up a round of shots for the four of them, the big quiet guy got up and took off. Returning the man's nod Waylon saw the English bartender return. With impatience in his voice he ordered three 'snorts' of Jameson and threw down the money to cover the booze.

"Shots! Three shots!" came out of his mouth with a slight dose of irritation as the gal gave him a confused look. Waylon muttered "Fucking Limey" just under his breath as she set the alcohol in front of them and went off down the bar.

"To dying for what you believe in" He said as he raised his glass and promptly drained the shot. Waylon let out a 'gahh' and slammed the shot-glass back onto the bar.

"Good shit, that is."

Xeph chuckled at Hammer as his beta made his quiet exit. Turning back to Val, he said, "The man is right. And so are you. I'm selectively cowed. or something."

With a wolfish grin, he made it clear that joke hadn't yet died, settling back and letting Waylon take a stab at flirtation 101. Xeph was having fun, but he wasn't about to hook up with anyone, cute redhead or not. Games were games. He raised his beer bottle to Waylon behind Val's back when she turned away from him, giving the man another grin in a sort of "good luck" gesture.

He did give a little groan when the other man ordered shots. It was clear Waylon and Val were ready to get sloshed, but Xeph the pseudo-control-freak was not about to do so himself. Still, he didn't want to be rude. So he raised the little glass and downed the shot in one enormous gulp, barely tasting it and replacing the glass on the bar.

"That's it for me, I have a job to do tomorrow." He didn't want anyone wasting money on shots he wasn't going to drink.

Granted, two beers and a shot didn't even skim the surface; Xeph was a sizeable man and he knew exactly how much he could handle. Even so, he didn't want to get caught up.

He was perfectly willing to accept the ribbing he imagined would be coming his way for turning down any more drinks, when set against the potential for screwing up a surgical procedure the next day, or suffering even worse nightmares than usual later on.

Val grinned at Waylon and nodded quite politely at his apology. It was good to be taken seriously. She’d ‘died’ or should have (more than once) in defense of the Old Sod and knew far too many who had.

At the revelation of his surname she laughed and cheerfully nudged him in the arm

“Good man, you can’t be too careful generations past might come back to bite you if you turn your back too completely.”

She frowned a bit when the other left. Ah, well not every one enjoyed the same good time. Still she inquired of Xeph.

“Did we offend him?”

Manners never cost a thing and while she understood this might not be the sort of night out the other gentleman had wanted Val hated to think they’d chased him off.

Another toast? She’d drink to that.

“Sláinte!”

She also easily downed the shot. Although she was starting to hear Giovanni in the back of her head warning her about having –too- good of a time. Well fuck that if he wanted to tell her off, birthday or no, her sire could damned well show up here.

A delicate eyebrow raised at Xeph’s pronouncement.

“A responsible sort? Or do you have an ulterior motive?”

Being of an especially suspicious nature, and adding the knowledge of the unseen facets of Nachtonian society, Waylon automatically assumed Val's comment was a hint at more than just her being a fiery little Celtic woman. That thought was quickly drowned with the next slug of beer though. There was no reason for him to assume anything yet; he was picking up no unfriendly vibes from this woman so far. So no need to worry for now.

Waylon stroked his short beard as of to ponder her statement.

"Truer words have not been spoken tonight." If she only knew. He thought as he continued, "In my experience, older generations tend to be more dangerous than the younger."

He was sure that didn't make a hell of a lot of sense. Oh well, passing oneself off as being drunk when you were not was much easier than the other way around.

Waylon looked around for an empty chair. He spotted one off across the bar and went to grab it. He sat it down a short distance from his bar-stool as Xeph made it known that he was not going to partake in anymore gut busting.

"Aaaw, no more!? Well, can't say that I blame you. I'm no stranger to running off of the fumes of that stuff the day after a night of howling at the moon, to be sure."

He grabbed his glass and sat down in his new chair. Resting his feet up on his former perch, Waylon turned back to Xeph.

"So what is it you do that keeps you from partaking in the drinking of this fine substitute for jet fuel?"

(ooc: sorry for the looong delay. I've been rather busy as of late. It's not much of an excuse to take this long off, but bare with me.:o)

Xeph shook his head amicably at Val when she asked about Hammer being offended. "Hardly," he said. "I'm surprised he was out tonight, to begin with. He's not always the most sociable fellow."

He took note of Waylon's reference to "howling at the moon," wondering briefly if that was some sort of veiled hint, but Xeph had been in the business far too long for anything but a grin to pass over his features. If he was a were, he wasn't one of Xeph's and therefore it wasn't really his business unless this guy had recently paid a visit to the house of a certain client of his.

He didn't think that was the case though, whether it be a hunch or intuition. He shrugged it off and let the thought stew quietly on a backburner.

Since both his new acquaintances were now curious as to why he didn't down a few hundred more shots, he figured he'd better come clean there, lest they suspect him of being less than a diehard drinker.

"I'm a doctor," he said, "and I've got an early shift at the hospital tomorrow. Nothing more, nothing less."

He shot his charming smile off at Val though. "Sadly, no ulterior motive." Then, nodding to Waylon, he added, "and I can't be caught running off fumes in the middle of a surgery. Nothing worse than removing a kidney when you were after an appendix. Not sure how I'd explain that one."

He barked a short laugh at the idea, remembering many a frat party in college where they'd joked about just that.

Affecting a tired, hung-over sort of look he blinked at Waylon and said, "Wait... you mean, you weren't in for a vasectomy?" He scratched his head and peered into his empty beer bottle with a squinting eye. "Huh... what the hell did I just tie up, then?"

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Val practically purred when he said he had no ulterior motive. Okay so she was being a slut and more than a little easy but damned he was hot and she was … with out. Upon hearing, he was a doctor she had to bite her tongue to keep from asking for a physical. But even having been her most of the night she wasn’t –that- uncouth. Although she did giggle a bit at her own thoughts.

Waylon’s odd quip about the older generation made her grin, and she only barley remember to hide her fangs. Maybe she did need to lay off for a few minutes any way.

“Don’t discount the young ones they didn’t get everything handed to them on a silver platter you know.”

Granted she’d had quite a bit handed to her. God bless you Giovanni where ever you are! She thought. But she’d also gone out of her way to make her own life, her own choices and she’d done quite well for being just around the century mark.

“We can howl at the moon later though, if you want. It’s a good spot of fun on occasion but I think it’s just as well we leave the doctor here with a steady hand.”

She’d had both enough practice and enough to drink that she could gaze suggestively at Xeph while speaking flirtily with Waylon. It was a gift, and one she quite enjoyed practicing. She giggled at Xeph’s chart reading and refrained from making any comments about tying people up for fun.

“And what about you sir? We have a doctor are you a lawyer or an Indian chief?”

Waylon took a long stretch and leaned his chair on it's back two legs. Coming out of the stretch he set the chair back on all fours and tilted his Studebaker hat up off his forehead.

He gave a couple of deep nods when he found out he was Talking to Dr. Xeph.

"That's a lot of schooling. More than I could do, that's for sure."

The old cowboy wasn't a dumb man. He just couldn't see himself sitting around long enough to shove all that knowledge into his skull. Sure, nowadays flying was much more complicated than at the dawn of aviation; but that was different, he enjoyed flying. The same could not be said for dealing with sick humans.

Waylon gave a small grin and an accepting nod to Val's comment about the younger generation.

"True, lord knows I wasn't one of the fortunate few." Well, at least not in that respect. "Growing up on a farm my platter had splinters in it."

Waylon couldn't help but chuckle at her next comment

"Yes it usually is a good time. But you're right, a doctors hands must be steady." He leaned in and nudged her arm with his elbow. Grinning, he continued on.

"Plus it would be rude to make the man babysit us after just meeting us."

Waylon's chuckle deepened at Xeph's joke.

He finished off his pint of Guinness as he pondered how to answer Val's question.

"Me? Oh not much. I'm a Chopper pilot most of the time. The rest of the time I find... odd jobs, to do."

Waylon's pause was barely noticeable. And wholly unintended. Damn, maybe he did need to slow down a bit

Xeph gave Valentine a wolfish little grin. The lady was, indeed, quite the flirt. But even if he'd wanted a one-nighter he'd never have been able to go through with it. Not when memories of kissing Nikhila were fresh in his head.

Taking a mental step back from the conversation, he let Val and Waylon converse for a moment, glad the cute redhead was openminded. Let the two of them hit it off.

He did nod in agreement with Waylon's comment about schooling. "Oddly enough, I'm not sure I would have had the motivation to finish it all if my old man hadn't been completely opposed to it," he said. "Wanted me to go into the family business, and all. I think I finished my MD half out of the desire to help, and half to spite him."

And that was the truth of it; Liam had never seen the use of doctoring humans. They were inferior. He had given grudging approval when Xeph received his DVM, but an MD? Why bother? They'd never agreed on it. They never would, now. And Xeph was having a hard time caring about that.

He shook himself out of it, grinning at Waylon's babysitting comment and laughing along with him. "I don't babysit. I'll just leave you where you fall."

As the conversation stayed on the topic of employment, Xeph gave a low whistle at the other man's profession. "There's no small amount of schooling involved in flying, either," he said. "It's all math and calculations, isn't it? One wrong angle and you're spinning out of control."

Xeph knew nothing about piloting aircraft; his own experiences had been mostly in chartered jets and he was certainly not the one in the cockpit. He respected a man who could make sense of all the bells and whistles up there.

"Plenty of responsibility in that line of work."

Val laughed throatily and straightened herself up a bit.

“And who says I have any plans on falling over? I’ll put you both under the table yet.”

Listening to Xeph, she frowned slightly. At one time she would have given –anything- to go into the family business. But that just wasn’t about to happen in the 20s. Well at least she’d avoided the trap of being married and shuffled off to a kitchen somewhere dying of old age or some other ridiculous aliment.

The idea of flying though, perked her right up.

“Really? Now that’s something I’ve always wanted to try.”

Most schools, at least the one’s she’d spoken to on the occasional whim, seemed to want you to fly during the day and that was right out. Of course, she managed to get plenty of speed on the ground as well, but different was good.

Waylon nodded knowingly as Xeph told his story. He knew where the other man was coming from. Even in his old life all it took was for somebody to say he couldn't or shouldn't do something and he was off to the races.

"Yep, nothing like getting told it can't be done to drive a man to do it anyways."

Waylon got up to refill his glass and found himself laughing at both of his drinking companions' barbs. He sat back down and told himself not to go rambling on to these poor souls about one of his three great passions. Even if Val and Xeph were undead they would not have the time to listen to all the stories the man had gathered through the years.

"Spinning out of control? No, it's not quite that bad." he said with a grin. "But one wrong angle or a miscalculation of your fuel reserves could cause a bad case of 'I'm not where I want to be'. And that is no fun."

Ooo. So Val was interested in flying. Waylon might have not lost his love for his beautiful wife of so many years ago, or, for that matter his creator. But he was a realist and knew he would never see either of them again. Therefore he always had time for a pretty woman that showed interest in one of his passions.

"It is, is it? Then we should get together sometime and I'll see what I can do about showing you a thing or two. I'm always happy to pass along a skill of mine to someone that is truly interested. Though let me warn you, my job tends to force me to keep strange hours. But let me know when you are free and we'll work something out."

Waylon hated lying, but his need to hide what he was from those that were not kinsmen was greater than his sense of honour.

Valentine's competitive attitude was cute, and if Xeph had been a little less of a control freak he might have had a good time calling her out on that, just to see if her constitution could outmatch his. It had been a very long time since he'd overindulged though. The loss of control wasn't worth it to him and he was capable of having a good time without the alcohol.

So he simply grinned and conceded to her. "I don't doubt you could. I have a feeling once you set your sights on the goal it doesn't get away from you."

She was one determined lady, at any rate.

Combined with that was Waylon's confidence, which baffled Xeph. The mysteries of keeping a heavy metal object airborne were just that - mysteries. He preferred to keep it that way.

"You know, oddly enough I'm fine rooting around in someone's internal organs. Flying a plane, not so much. For me, 'I'm not where I want to be' is better suited to having explored the wrong side of someone's liver, than happening thirty thousand miles above the ground."

It was spoken with absolute sincerity. "Tell you what. Next time I need a ride, I'll let you know. Next time you need open heart surgery, you call me."

Xeph grinned at the other man. To each his own strengths. Maybe if he had the inclination he could learn to fly, but in his mind a double PhD was plenty of academic accomplishment for one lifetime, thankyou.

"Genetic fluke, I have no idea how to back down."Â?

She flashed a flirty, fang free, grin at Xeph. He might have made it clear he wasn't really interested, but that didn't mean a girl couldn't keep trying. If nothing, else it was a challenge and a challenge was fun.

She grimaced at the Aussie's graphic description.

"No thank you very much. If the good lord had meant for me to see it, it wouldn't be hidden behind skin and bone would it?"Â?

Blood and gore was one thing, that she was ok with but the 'mysteries of the human body' she could do quite well with out. You were either alive or you were dead... or undead. She didn't need to know how it worked.

She flicked another bright smile at Waylon, one out of two wasn't bad. And she might be cute and endearing but the odds of her walking out with both of them had been slim. That and she was interested in flying.

"I'm at a bit of loose ends, hours aren't a problem at all. You'd best not be blowing smoke though I just might take you up on that offer."Â?

Strangely enough Waylon could agree with both folks' point of view. It wasn't that he couldn't handle rummaging through someones gut, or fiddling around in one's chest cavity, sick people just made him uncomfortable. On the other hand, he could completely understand Xeph's propensity for letting somebody else do all the work in the air. It took a certain kind of crazy to hurl a several ton piece of machinery around the sky at at least a few hundred miles an hour; and Waylon couldn't blame the man for not seeing that as the best way to spend a lifetime.

"You know, I can't disagree with either of yous two. Some folks can dig around a person's brain cavity and some others can perform barrel rolls at thirty thousand feet going six hundred miles an hour." Waylon raised up his glass to toast. "Them's both admirable professions."

Waylon reached into an inside pocket of his vest and pulled out three Ameroso Madero cigars, put one in his mouth and offered the other two to his companions.

"Honduran?"

As Val was questioning him on the sincerity of his proposal Waylon bit the end off his cigar, produced a Zippo, and lit it up. Taking a couple long deep puffs he clicked the lighter shut and turned to the redhead.

"I'm dead serious, if you're willing to learn, I'm willing to teach."

Xeph couldn't help raising an ironic eyebrow at Val's comments about the human body. "Wait a minute. If the good lord had seen fit for you to fly, wouldn't he have given you wings?"

Maybe a little ungentlemanly of him, but he couldn't resist catching her in her own net, as it were. It was said with a grin, and he didn't think she'd take it the wrong way.

Waylon seemed a good sort though, and much as Xeph wished he could stay for another drink or two, he had to opt out. Instead he held out his hand to shake, to both Waylon and Val in turn.

"I wish I could chat a bit longer, but I do have an early morning. It was good to meet you both. If you stop in from time to time, I'll probably see you again."

Xeph would make it a point to pop his head in on occasion; it couldn't hurt to have some acquaintances outside the Pack in this city. With a grin, he left a hefty tab for the bartender and headed out on his way.

((ooc: Out pending responses!))

Val laughed heartily at Xeph calling her bluff. Bravo to him for doing that. But she had an escape route.

“I never said the good lord was always right.”

It was a shame to see him go. He was lovely eye candy she did love a good accent and he seemed like a decent sort. Ah well no worries, she hadn’t lost entirely yet. Although she wasn’t sure what she was trying to win. Maybe nothing, maybe she’d just had far too much to drink. Right now she didn’t care.

“Ah all good things. All the best to you here’s hoping we run into you again.”

God she could go for a bite, but she wasn’t sober enough to pull it off with out being caught. Better to wait until tomorrow than screw up. Screwing up was not an option.

Never terribly worried about being delicate and lady like she accepted the cigar and the light. Tasty.

“Well then I’d say you have a student. At least for one lesson, I cannot promise to be a PhD candidate. I’ll leave that to you.”

Waylon stood to shake the Aussie's offered hand.

"Yeah, good to meet ya. Take 'er easy, huh. We'll see you around."

Xeph seemed like good people and Waylon wouldn't mind running into the guy again to swap stories over a couple of brews.

Val's flirting did not go unnoticed to the cowboy over the course of the evening. She was a good looking woman and had edge about her that was attractive to him. But Waylon was not the sort to rush into anything and that included relations with women. Perhaps down the road, but if his all his vampiric years had taught him anything it was to be cautious around good looking ladies. They had the potential to be the most dangerous of foes.

Still, all that got no more than a passing thought as Waylon was still enjoying Val's company. Still having all night and nothing better to fill it with he ordered what he decided would be his last pitcher and turned back to the redhead.

"So, you said you were at loose ends. Is there anything you do other than roam bars trying to pick up unsuspecting men?" He said with a grin.

Waylon wasn't sure how much longer he was planning on hanging around this pub but he figured he'd hang out as long as Val was willing to shoot the bull with him.

Val laughed again. Her head was clearing a little bit, not too much but a bit. She hadn’t decided if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

“This was entirely unintentional ducky. I would have dressed better if I had known I was going to run into you lot. So just consider yourself lucky.”

She winked.

Not that she looked bad, Val –never- looked bad. She was wearing black and green, silk and leather. Green because it was Giovanni’s favorite color and black because she was in some form of mourning; classic black linen trousers, a green scoop neck silk shirt and a cropped black leather jacket.

Thankfully, the cigar was keeping her from playing with her rings. She’d been doing that off and on all evening but having something to do with her hands helped still that urge.

Hmmm… what lie to tell or maybe no lie. Yes, she deiced, no lie just dancing about the truth. She didn’t fee like trying to remember a story.

“Try to keep out of trouble. I’m not terribly successful at it either. I own a shop,” Of sorts, not that one could call her dealership a shop but it –did- sell stuff “and try to keep an eye on the bottom line. I bought a race horse not too long ago but I’m thinking about selling her and trying for something a little bit flashier.”

Not that she’d ever get to see the animal in a race. She could se –very- early morning workouts and films and that was it, but she was still have a great deal of fun owning the little filly.

Waylon gave a big grin to Val's way with words and raised his glass slightly.

"To be sure."

A shop and a race horse hmm? Given his nature Waylon knew all too well that looks could be deceiving. In his mind either she had help in gaining these things or she was older than she looked. Something to watch anyways.

"Well, this town offers to much to not get into at least a little trouble." That was something he knew too well.

"A shop and a filly eh? Interesting. Bet that leaves you some free time huh. If you don't mind my askin' what sort of shop?"

He wasn't trying to be nosy, just making conversation as it were.

“Most cities do. Now don’t tell me you don’t get into a little bit of trouble yourself. I have –never- heard of a flyboy being an angle.”

For a second she wondered what had happened to the other flyboy. The one she’d left pretty banged up in the alley. She should have bitten him to send a message. He might have been property but he didn’t understand the rules of the game, eventually some one would have to teach him. But, it was probably just as well it wasn’t her. The idiot probably belonged to another clan (the odds were only one in three he’d be Tàcharan) and she didn’t need to start an incident. Of course if he was Tàcharan that would wind up being an incident of another sort. Bah, sometimes mortals were more trouble than they were worth.

She also wondered what was with her karma to attract yet another pilot. Strange world. Ah well.

Giggling into her beer, Val admitted she was caught. Some guys would push and ask more and some wouldn’t apparently Waylon was the former. She approved.

“A car dealership actually. Down in New York. Don’t tell me you need a new set of wheels though or I’ll have to talk business.”

She teased. Just from the look of him, Val wasn’t sure he could afford anything she had to sell, but looks could be deceiving.

Waylon let out a roar of a laugh. Probably a little loader than necessary, but if this gal knew the sort of understatement she just made, he was willing to bet she would have joined him.

"No I would reckon you haven't. That's a rare breed, for certain." He came down from his reverie and continued. "Oh, I've been known to kick up some dust from time to time. Mostly when the situation calls for it. Or I get bored."

Even in his former life Waylon never liked to follow most of societies' laws. And after his turning this combined with his experiences doing jobs for his creator to create a man that was rather well removed from what would be considered acceptable by today's human society. Still, the man had morals and they told him that as long as innocent people weren't killed by his actions, then he could go about his business. Anyways he had learned long ago that the only laws he was requiered to follow were those of his clan and his own moral code.

So, she owned a dealership, intriguing. Waylon was always looking for possible contacts and it didn't even cross his mind that Val might run a perfectly legitimate business. Big city owners that didn't have their hand in the cookie jaw that was grand theft auto in one way or another was one of those rare breeds that Waylon had rarely seen since he got into the trade.

Pushing those thoughts aside he grinned at her answer and took a swig of his beer.

"Ah, cool beans. Besides flying I'm a bit of a car nut. And though I would like to talk turkey, in my experience owners that dress as well as you do don't generally sell cars I could afford."

Then again he might be perfectly capable of affording one of her vehicles. He certainly wasn't hurting for cash. But that wasn't the piont of the remark.

“Rare breed? They’re extinct.”

She’d found one or two round about WWII but even then you didn’t come by them terribly often.

She grinned wickedly.

“Boredom will do it –every- time.”

Hmmm car nut? That wasn’t a bad thing not at all. She would have been surprised at a flyboy who didn’t continue his need for speed to his land ride as well.

She chuckled again at the idea of him not being able to afford her toys. It took some effort but she refrained from offering to show off the Vanquish. Which was just as well, she realized, as she hadn’t brought it tonight. She’d known she’d be a little worse for wear under the circumstances and hadn’t wanted to risk getting pulled over or her baby taken away. She did –love- that car.

“I’ll give you a good sales man, I might even give you a few incentives and decent financing but they are defiantly big boy’s toys. And I’ll tell you if you want a good deal now’s the time to do it, while I’m not quite running on all cylinders.”

Val had no problem admitting she was less than sober, she didn’t feel she was at a disadvantage at all. Not so long as she didn’t let it get any further out of hand.

Incentives? Financing? And she was challenging his manhood? She was a slick one wasn't she? Had he been further along into his pitcher Waylon might have went for her bait. But the vamp had known far to many slick salesmen to be drug in so easily. Instead he'd make a challenge of his own.

"Ha ha. You are good, I'll give ya that. But 'big boy's toys' I'm sorry, but I don't think we can do business. After all, I'm used to man cars, anything less couldn't handle me."

There was a big old grin plastered on the cowboy's face. He was enjoying this.

"Let me guess. You sell something high end. Maseratis, Astons, or maybe even Lambos. A line like that coming from a good looking woman like you is gonna be a challenge to men that need to prove something. And only overcompensating males are gonna be in there looking for such rides."

Though he didn't usually like slick carsalesmen, Waylon didn't think Val was generaly like that. But it was obvious she could move the metal if need be. She was alright in his book.

'What the hell.' Just outside the bar Waylon could hear a group of obnoxious punks walking up to the pub hootin' and hollerin' at everything within eye shot. He did not at all like obnoxious punks.

The door was swung open with undue force and Waylon glanced back to see five Chicanos walk into the bar and the first one in yell at the bartender in broken English.

"Hey chica five cervezas, pronto! Like now dammit!"

Waylon decided he was going to do his best to control his temper around these bastard thugs. All he wanted to do was enjoy his company and his beer. And it probably wasn't worth the attention that would come from one guy beating a group of five to within an inch of their lives, or a little farther.

Waylon looked at Val and just shrugged as he refilled his glass. He was tense with anger but wasn't gonna let it show.

Val decided that she liked his smile and the fact that he could give as good as he got.

“What twelve cylinders and 190 miles an hour isn’t manly? I have been in the wrong business.”

She teased him.

“But you’re right all of the above. Still you’d be amazed the cross section we get. Of course, I don’t sell, I can only handle so many wishy-washy spoiled rich boys a day. And oddly enough, most of them don’t like buying from a woman. Never have figured that out.”

Some men could handle it and some couldn’t. Val mentally shrugged and let it go. Her hours were such that she couldn’t often show up during business hours any way.

She wrinkled her nose and rolled her eyes and the rowdy crowd. Some days she didn’t mind that, a good rowdy pub could be fun but this lot… she decided they were low class and trouble. Dinner?

Now that was odd, why would she look at the punks like that and not Waylon? That was just creepy. She was damned tempted to ask Waylon that very question but there was sure as hell no good way to ask that.

‘Excuse me is there a reason I wouldn’t mind feeding from those low class punks but I haven’t been looking at you like a slab of meat?’

Oh yes that would go over –well-. Instead, she leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially.

“I think we can take them. Don’t you?”

For a second Waylon thought Val was joking around but as he looked onto her eyes he decided she was dead serious. She might not have looked like much of a fighter from first appearances, but Waylon knew enough not to trust appearances especially in this town. Either way he figured if she was blowing smoke he'd have no problem taking these punks on himself.

In the mean time the punks had moved on to picking on a couple across the bar. They were spewing off derogatory comments at the woman and telling her date what they were going to do to the gal while he sat there and how he wasn't gonna do a damn thing to stop them. Overall Waylon was of the opinion that these gangbangers were not likely to live through the night.

Looking into Val's eyes Waylon's own dark eyes lit up and an evil grin played across his face. Turning his head but still facing Val, He yelled across the bar at the punks.

"Hey Pepe! What's the matter, on your period again? You seem like your in a bad mood." All five turned to get a look at the bastard that was talking shit.

Waylon stood up and turned to face them. With his back to Val he flicked the back of his vest up to reveal the Redhawk Alaskan tucked into his Wranglers. It wasn't what he used when he expected to be in combat, but the .454 packed enough power that most vamps didn't like getting hit by it and it would be more than enough firepower if any of these punks decided to run.

"Why don't you and the mariachi boys come over hear and tell us all about it?"

Now that was just rude. Val had been half kidding, she wasn’t looking for a bar room brawl, when she half goaded Waylon but this pack of degenerates wasn’t following the rules. If they had gone off into a corner and been uncouth on their own maybe occasionally harassing the Limey waitress she would have been fine with leaving them be, but harassment like that was unwarranted.

She was half out of her seat to do something un-lady like about it when flyboy numero dos beat her too it. All Val could do was kick back and laugh. She managed to smother most of it behind her hand but damned that was funny. But he did get their attention and they shifted their attention from the more defenseless couple and sauntered over to join herself and her drinking buddy. Val wasn’t worried, but she really did hope Waylon could hold his own.

“You do know how to attract a crowd don’t you?”

The group was apparently looking for a fight as they started out making a few less than tasteful comments about gringos playing cowboy and quickly worked up to down right lewd comments about herself. Maybe she should stop going to bars, it always seemed to wind up in a fight. Oh well, this was a good way to honor Shamus’ memory too. Unlike their previous victim who coward and squirmed Val didn’t bat an eyelash, not even when one of them started touching her. She just smiled sweetly.

“We’ll talk after you buy me a drink. I’m not as cheap a date as you are vato.”

That was about the extent of her Spanish vocabulary, other than cerveza but it would suffice for tonight.

As Val joined him at his side Waylon gave a shrug and a 'guilty as charged' look. Tilting towards her he said in a low voice.

"Kicking up dust, and all that."

Waylon did nothing but stare as the gangbangers walked up and spouted their uninspiring insults at the two of them. He was a little surprised Val didn't move when one of the guys started touching her, but it showed him she could keep cool in a situation. Her standing rose a couple of notches.

At her cheap date remark Waylon put on a bit of a show by doubling over in half fake laughter and smacked both his knees with his hands.

"Goh! Ba ha ha!" Ol' Pepe walked up to him with a look to kill. Waylon continued "Did you hear that! Gah ha! Hilarious! I tell you she's an Irish Wonda Sykes."

Pepe didn't like that at all. "Oh you think that's funny puta gringo?" The cowboy nodded vigorously.

With that the punk threw a punch where Waylon's head was a split second ago. Pepe didn't have time to show his surprise before a look of agony plastered itself to his face as Waylon caught his punch and brought his opposite arm up into the Chicano's elbow, busting it at the joint. Before he could hit his knees Waylon threw a back-handed chop into the guys' wind pipe, grabbed the back of his head and with vampiric strength sent the gangbangers' face into the edge of the bar with a satisfying crunch.

The guy behind Pepe produced a knife and lunged towards Waylon. Twisting out of the way he caught the knife hand and swung an elbow into the mans nose. A split second later the the knife was out of punk number two's hand and sticking, handle out, of his neck. The second gangbanger hit the floor gurgling from the blood gathering in his throat and weakly writhing in pain.

Waylon might have fed last night but the thick scent of blood in the air had his hunger and adrenaline up. Eyeballing the gangster farthest from the action, Waylon gave him a predatory look and a half snarl/half evil grin, revealing very prominent canines. He wasn't done yet.

“You need to go back to the Old Sod me boy.”

Val teased. He was undoubtedly several generations removed but he’d fit in just fine in some places.

Fortunately, the group didn’t view Val as much of a threat and was much more interested in playing with Waylon. There were some benefits to being tiny and cute. Like in this case, Val got to watch as the big man took on the punks. He wasn’t doing a bad job of it either. Defiantly some nice moves and he didn’t get flustered by the trash talk.

Oh, that had to hurt they were most certainly going to be asked to leave and that was if they were lucky. If the cops showed up Waylon didn’t want to know how fast and how effectively Val could get out of Dodge. She wasn’t sticking around to play with the fuzz for any one.

One of the punks had stayed next to her, apparently just in case she should decide to move and join the fray. When his pal fell though he tried to dive in and help. Val didn’t waste any time sweeping his legs out from under him. The punk fell forward face planting into the table. She quickly twisted one arm behind him and using her knee to shove his throat into the edge of the table giving her both complete control of him and making it rather hard for him to breath.

Now very sober but cool and calm she simply noted.

“I think its time to leave Sunshine. Unless you have some copper relative you want to reunite with.”

The clans might all have a hand in this city but she had no intention of trying to pull any strings.

Thank god, she’d paid for everything in cash.

Despite being more than ready to leave and already thinking about how to avoid being cornered with this whole mess, she couldn’t help but notice Waylon’s snarl. Now –that- was interesting.

Had he been around a few more centuries Waylon might have been able to keep his emotions in check and let his perception take hold. And had he kept his emotions in check he might have noticed the beer bottle fly across the room before it smacked him underneath his left eye. That was enough to break his stare down with his third target.

The last two gangsters standing took Waylon's brief distraction as an opportunity to get the hell out. One made it out but the little shit that tossed the bottle had the favor returned as a bar stool was hurled across the bar and smashed into his back, sending him flat on his face. Waylon walked over to the still moving guy and gave him a good boot to the head knocking him out cold. Let that serve as a reminder of the consequences of wasting good beer.

Still lost in his rush, Waylon was about to feed on the poor sod until Val made known her opinion on staying around this joint.

"Right. The cops."

Instead he pulled a pair of fifties out of his wallet, threw them on the bar and turned to Val.

"Ready when you are."

With that Waylon made his way for the door wondering if she was going to follow him or head off in her own direction.

He imagined Anantya would be a good deal involved in what the cops investigated in Nachton, but Waylon wasn't about to test the leniency of Elders which he hadn't actually met yet. They would certainly not waste their time to get this foolish youngin of a vamp out of his own mess, no matter how well he had served his creator and clan in the past.

Thank god, he had some self-control. Val had decided she rather liked Waylon, but self-preservation was a –very- prominent instinct for her. That didn’t lend one’s self to being a hero or leaving no man behind, hell no you left a man behind if the man was dumb enough to keep pushing when they shouldn’t and when they were a liability. That was just how it was. She didn’t expect any different treatment either.

Almost cheerfully, she followed him out the door. She didn’t run, no running would attract attention. She also took it as a given he would follow her, although she didn’t quite have a plan right now. No idea where to go or what to do next; it would come to her, it always did.

“No cabs, not for a few blocks any way. Don’t need any one else remembering us. Of all the days not to drive myself.”

She lamented. As she determinedly set about weaving up and down streets, allies, parking lots deliberately being random about direction and doing her best to keep them away from people. Disappearing into the night as best, they could. Eventually she’d rejoin the crowd, whether he did or not was up to him.

“That was an interesting game you had going there flyboy. Not at all what I had set out to do tonight.”

She looked over to him and flashed a grin, now more than ever careful to keep her own large canines hidden. Just because she had a better than average guess about him didn’t mean she wanted to share any information about herself.

((OOC… she’s assuming he’s following her. If he isn’t that’s cool she’ll just be damned surprised when she looks up and he’s not there :) ))

Waylon stood outside the bar waiting for Val to come out. The cool night air was welcoming and did much to cool his temper. Shit. This was exactly what he was trying to avoid tonight by hitting up the little pub. He wasn't sorry for what he had done to the unlucky gangbangers, they deserved what they got. No, the real problem was what to do about his new drinking companion. There was no doubt in his mind that his little teeth bearing incident had shown her his true nature. That was his major concern now.

With that on his mind Waylon followed Val through her winding escape rout, silent and a few steps behind but matching her pace. Now, what to do about his little problem. On the one hand he was rather fond of this gal, and on the other was the driving need to keep his secret from those not like him. Then again, she didn't look very worried about what he was sure she saw. For better or worse Waylon decided right then and there that this was not her first meeting with vampires.

At Val's quip Waylon managed to hide his pondering mood with his usual smart-ass comment and shit-eating grin.

"What, too much excitement after just meeting me?"

After a few more minutes Waylon stopped Val in the middle of an ally and managed a more serious tone.

"Look, I know you know what I am. There's no way you didn't see my little show back there. Now, this presents me with a problem, what do I do about this -situation-. Because, as you might know, we're not very fond of humans with this sort of knowledge. As I ponder this I'm weighing in the fact that this new drinking companion of mine is good people and I really don't want to see her hurt. Then I realize" He snapped his fingers as if coming to a revelation "this is not her first time around the vampiric sort. So... What dealings have you had in the past with my sort, I wonder."

Cold dark eyes stared at Val waiting her response.

It was an incredibly up front way of approaching the subject, but Waylon rarely approached a topic any other way.

(OOC- I guess I kinda hijacked the thread. next time it happens just smack me, I'll learn:o)

“You give new meaning to one night stand Ducky.”

Val quipped back and they floated around in her less than planned escape route. He was taking this all quite well, perhaps he had convinced himself she hadn’t seen or didn’t understand. Well if that was the case, he was either damned lucky or insanely young/naive.

Hearing him stop Val mentally nodded in approval as he got all serious on her. About time. She perched on a trash can to listen. Some how she suspected this might take a while.

“And what, pray tell, are you? So far as I can see you’re a not bad looking fella who can put away a fair share of Guinness and take on some minor league thugs, not a bad thing in my book. And until you used the ‘v’ word I don’t think I would have given things a second though. After all, I’ve been known to hang around with some less than savory types… …. … on rare occasion.”

Yes, she was playing hard to get and she was damned proud of it. Just because he’d tipped, his hand didn’t mean she was going to tip hers. Val had questions for him and if playing dumb was the best way to get them answered then she could be the quintessential dumb Dora.

((OOC... *pets* you did fine.))

Waylon gave out a low laugh. This one was as smart as she was slick. And she was playing dumb for all it was worth. Not a problem sometimes a hammer couldn't crack the nut.

"You're good I'll give ya that. But you're tryin' to bullshit a bullshitter. OK I'll play along though. Let me ask you this, setting aside all preconceived notions. Never liked 'em myself anyways; they just cause problems. What sort of unsavory types might they be? If you don't mind my asking, of course."

He was never big on judging by clans anyways. Not all vamps where the same, after all. Then again, she could be clanless, then he could understand such a gaurded nature.

Again, it was a less then subtle question, but Waylon was none too fond of playing round-about at times like these.

“You can ask me anything you want. Doesn’t mean I’ll answer. But then I expect the same is true of you.”

She grinned while debating her response. She could play fair or she could make him work for it or she could just keep her mouth shut. All three had advantages and disadvantages.

“As to my choice of company… well it all depends on which life you’re talking about. I do think its safe to say that the ‘v’ word isn’t anything I’m unfamiliar with. Don’t you?”

This time, for the first time all night, when Val smiled she did so just a bit more broadly. She blamed her large teeth on Giovanni. They weren’t so huge she couldn’t pass them off as a human fluke if she had to, it wasn’t always easy but she could. But they were large enough that in this setting even letting him just get half a glance at her pointy canines would answer his question.

When Val flashed her partially fanged smile the tension in Waylon's posture noticeably lessened. He gave her a smile and a nod.

"To be sure."

With that out of the way the cowboy turned on his heel and continued walking in there previous direction. Having got the answer he was basically looking for Waylon had no problem reverting back to the same demeanor he had back in the bar.

Now that he knew about Val's vampiric nature he had all sorts of questions about where she had been and what she had seen and all that. It always fascinated him to talk to other Vamps, to find out what sort of history they had lived through. But, he figured he had asked enough personal questions of Val for tonight and decided to take the conversation else where.

"Well, I guess now would be a good time to let it be known we don't have to walk to wherever it is we're going." He gave her a shrug and a smile. "I parked my Roadrunner a few blocks from the bar."

It was something he did out of habit in case he was in exactly this sort of situation.

Back to being careful about her teeth, Val still managed to throw back her head and laugh. She wasn’t sure what to do with him next but he was worth keeping on his good side.

“I hadn’t decided where we were going. My primary thought was to pull you out of there before dinner and the fuzz.”

It was still possible Waylon, conceivable herself as well, might have a bit of a brush with the law. Val didn’t think so. It had all gone down pretty fast and while she’d been in there most of the night, she hadn’t done anything that out of the ordinary. All things considered, she’d probably still avoid the neighborhood for a while a good solid month or two. Fortunately, there were plenty of other pubs and bars in the city.

Now that was a blast from the past. Val couldn’t think the last time she’d seen a Roadrunner. She certainly didn’t have on in her collection. She lifted an approving eyebrow at Waylon.

“Your show Pretty Boy, but I’d say at the very least you owe me a lift wouldn’t you?”

Val kept a nice apartment in the city. It was neutral ground. If he wanted to call it a night, it gave her a good safe place to crash without giving anything away. Although she was dead curious about who he played for as well as a number of other things.

Waylon gave Val a lopsided grin when she spoke of pulling him out of an encounter with Nachton's finest.

"Mighty big of you to be sure" She didn't seem like the sort that would stick her neck out for too many people. "But my skill set allows me to get out of trouble much easier than is fair."

When one had his set of talents it wasn't that hard to get out of trouble like that. Oh, turning into a large owl in front of the cops would attract unwanted attention. But it was a ridiculously easy why of peeling out of trouble. Better to just avoid that sort of situation.

Waylon put his hand out in the direction they needed to go as of to say after you.

"Fine by me, just as long as you don't call me pretty boy again." He gave her another grin. "I've been called a lot of things in my day and pretty boy's never been one of 'em. And I'd like it to stay that way, someone might hear ya." He leaned in and whispered to Val. "Would ruin my reputation."

With that he started off for his ride. After a short while they came upon the old midnight blue Plymouth parked on a dark street six blocks from the bar.

Waylon walked over to the passenger side and unlock that door first then trotted around to his side and opened up his own door.

"Whelp where to pale-face? Ya got neutral ground?" He figured any smart vampire would have a spot they didn't mind others knew about to be dropped off at in situations like these.

“I won’t call you pretty boy if you don’t call me pale face. Deal?”

Damned her perfect ivory complexion any way. Val didn’t blush, she’d been around too long for that, but she did flick him a little grin and a wink.

Val quickly complied a mental list of abilities that might get you out of trouble with the cops. She didn’t have any. Damned unfair that some people could just waltz out of trouble and some of them had to think on their feet. Oh wait, thinking on your feet was a good skill too. Never mind.

“Now do I look like I was born yesterday?”

She teased before giving him directions to a relatively posh area of town. Not super upper crust but defiantly yuppie. God love a clever accountant the apartment was a tax write off and nearly free, so she might as well have a nice one.

Curiosity did kill the cat, but Val wondered about him. How old, where, when, how. But she, for the most part managed to keep her mouth shut, most of the time. She allowed her self one question, one she didn’t mind answering in return at that.

“Where are you from and skip the PR and the nice back story you’ve cooked up for your meal and interviews, real deal.”

Waylon nodded as Val teased and gave him directions.

"Good woman. But you never can tell with our kind, now can ya?"

He started up the car and tapped the gas a couple of times just to get the fuel flowing good. That, and he loved the sound the 440 produced. Right after he got the car he had slapped on a set of headers and glass packs to the duel exhaust. It gave the thing a nice rumble with out going overboard.

He still didn't know the town as well as he liked but as he recalled the area was a fairly uptown. This didn't surprise him in the least given what she told him about herself. Though granted it wasn't much to go by. Ah well, all in good time.

Waylon raised an eyebrow at her question. Now who was being upfront.

"Yreka California. The son of a rancher from a village outside of Cork. Mother was Italian, had five siblings. Grew up, married a gorgeous young Basque woman and had five kids of my own. Died in France, spent a fair share of time in Europe; mostly eastern and southern. Moved on when the time came and spent my lost years traveling wherever my feet took me until I hit Canada, for whatever damn reason." He still hadn't figured out why exactly he chose Vancouver of all places, but he liked it for a while."And then just kinda found my way here to Nachton. There ya go, Mr. O'Seighin if you please in a harmless nutshell. You?"

She didn't expect him to give up that info without some in return did she?

"Wouldn't be any fun if you could."Â?

Val countered cheerfully.

Well now, that was a great deal more than she'd expected to get from one little question. Val had almost always made her living knowing people, knowing about them and how to read them. She took it all in and filed it away. It was amazing how much people gave away little by little. Given that he said California, she pegged him as rather young. Granted California had been part of the union for some time it still gave her something of a time frame. She supposed he could have been there for the Spanish occupation, but the rest of what he said didn't seem to fit that. It was entirely possible she'd stumbled on something of a contemporary.

"Kids! Oh I never would have thought of that."Â?

Her maker had been her first lover and he'd been dead for centuries before they met. At the time, she'd brought up the possibilities of off spring now and again but Giovanni had always told her it wasn't going to happen.

She leaned back in her seat and considered that a bit as well as considered Waylon a bit.

"So you could have great whatever grand brats running about. Shall I call you grandpa rather than pretty boy?"Â?

Yes, it was possible she was treading on sensitive ground, but she could apologize later. You always could.

She flashed him a full pointy tooth grin at him when he countered. She wouldn't be giving him -that- much information but some was required.

"Ma and Da both from Ireland but me, born, raised, lived and died in Chicago. Not a bad life either I might add. No siblings, no children, no husband but did have fun. After that little bit of anywhere and everywhere, lots of time back in the old country. I haven't seen everything yet but I figure I have time."Â?

She left out her old mob ties, and her IRA ties and her more contemporary IRA splinter group and didn't feel a bit bad about it. Certainly, he was leaving a few unsavory details out too.

Waylon gave off a quiet snort and let a smirk creep across his face at Val's reaction to his comments about kids.

"To be honest, you don't have the look of a woman that's raised any rowdy little shits."

His wife had gone through the transformation, and a smirk turned into a chuckle as the cowboy's mind wondered back to that long lost memory. Waylon had watched as she went from the sultry, feisty, smart-ass young woman that enjoyed his playful barbs to a feisty, smart-ass woman that took no shit from anyone and had no patience to pretend otherwise. And if a stone-cold glare didn't work, well then there was nothing a swinging frying pan couldn't fix.

At Val's next comment a thoughtful look crept into Waylon's eyes. There was a lot of might have beens down that road that he wasn't fond of contemplating.

"Oh hell, I stopped keeping track after a while. Damn humans breed like rabbits."

That comment masked the anguish he still felt about not being around to raise his children. They all had ended up living full lives in their own ways and most had died of old age surrounded by numerous children and grand-children. It still pained him that they had grown up without a father. To Waylon it was all about duty. Duty to his wife, duty to his offspring. He had let them down in his eyes and to him it was an utter failure; one that was unforgivable.

For many years that pain could make Waylon an unpleasant being to be around and it took several ass kickings from his maker to get him out of his self pitying mood. Many years down the road he would learn to live with it all, but to this day the thought of what he had failed to do, his fault or not, still gnawed at him from time to time.

Deciding he had pondered his own history enough for one night Waylon considered the History of Valentine as she spoke.

She had given out almost as much information he had. He gathered she couldn't be more than a than few hundred years old if she was telling the truth. Lots of time back in the old country would explain the accent.

He gave her a playful grin and a sideways glance.

"No doubt making the limey's stay as comfortable as possible."

He wasn't asking a question. Going off what he had seen tonight Val wasn't going to give away any incriminating information. Frankly he would have been disappointed if she did.

“Oh I’ve had my fill of rowdy shits but a different sort.”

And she could handle them as well as any woman alive, or undead which ever was more appropriate. It didn’t bother her in the slightest that she had apparently no maternal appearance. Let some one else stay barefoot in the kitchen she’d been too busy living to feel like she’d missed out on something.

She half laughed at his comment about breeding humans, apparently forgetting he had been on. She didn’t push beyond that. There seemed to be a contemplative air the to the few seconds silence. Apparently, he had something to think about. Funny old world really, Val hadn’t given her parents a though in decades, they must be dead but she’d never bothered to find out. Of course, it would be different with kids she reasoned and immediately let it go.

Val gave him a few fine tuning directions as she could see her complex now, gated drive, fountain, tasteful lighting of the landscaping. Yes, it was just a bit yuppie.

“Now I’m surprised at you thinking such a thing. My halo is in the shop tonight but I’m a good girl over all.”

And if you believed that, she had something to sell you.

Waylon gave the redhead a quick laugh and a playfully suspicious look.

"Of course." And left it at that.

Val pointed out her complex and Waylon pulled the car up to gate and had her punch in her code. It was definitely a nicer place than his old farm house outside of town, but the 20 acres gave him room to roam. When Catina had died she left Waylon with no small financial backing. Not to mention his own endeavours paid quite nicely, thank you. So he could have found a place as nice or nicer than this, and there was always the Manor, but he preferred to go home to a place that kept him out of Nachton.

Waylon pulled up outside of the building Val had pointed out as hers and offered his hand to his new acquaintance.

"Whelp, it was nice meetin' you Val. The offer for flight lessons still stands, I'm sure you'll find me around the airport if nowhere else. Oh," He gave her his best shit-eating grin. "and don't go gettin' into anymore fights with gangbangers. I won't always be around to take up all their attention."

He had to get in one last barb for the night.

With that Waylon pulled out of her driveway and took off for his own place. He still wanted to go for a flight tonight, without the chopper.

(OOC- Waylon out)

She wiggled her eyebrows a bit and giggled at the idea of being good. Even if she was a good girl, she hadn’t set up that expectation tonight and Waylon was quite right to disbelieve her.

As she set about getting them in the gates and to her building she ‘accidentally’ dropped a business card with her cell number jotted down in nice neat hand writing on the back. Some times, she liked being chased, and it was only sporting to give him a lead.

“You’re not off the hook yet fly boy.”

She grinned and let his comment slide right by her. She could more than hold her own and she knew it and had a feeling he at least suspected it.

Val tossed him a wink before finding her door and ducking inside. Maybe she’d go back out… maybe she wouldn’t she hadn’t decided.

((OOC… Val out as well.))