Sral's Saloon

"I have a curse dragonscale sword, that will take the soul of whatever it touches. Would you like to see it?"

*okay Rayah's gotta go, Im doing alot of Character chit chats.*

"Nah. I'm good." I looked at my watch. Ugh. "well...I gotta go, bye Sral."

The boy watches the girl leave and swallows down the rest of his drink, ordering another.
"Did you say something about a dragonscale sword?" He asks the bartender.

Seb walks into the pub and strides confidently up to the bar. He looks at the bartender through his black tinted glasses, and mutters "Bloody Mary, now."
He could feel the Need coming on, stronger because of his abstinence, and he wasn't sure how long he could control it without alcohol; the only thing that kept him in check.
He snatched up the drink and threw it down his burning throat in one, slamming the glass down on the bar violently. His back arched and he shuddered. God, it tasted horrible!
Looking around more calmly now, Seb noticed a boy further down the bar, talking to the bartender. Well, he had nothing else to do.
Seb collected himself, and went down to join the conversation. "Hi." He managed a pained smile, the Need still too-present for the expression to be genuine.

The boy watches the new man walk over to him and sit down.
"Oh, hi." He greets back, his expression hidden by his hood.

"So..." Sebastien stalled, trying to think of how to talk to young people. It had been so long! "Umm... So... How's things?" Seb winced internally at the sound of his own voice, trying to sound light-hearted and just succeeding in sounding horrible hollow. "Look, I'm a little out of practise at the whole 'socialising' thing, y'know? Hey, what you got there, bud?" This last was directed at the bartender, who was very-nearly succeeding at concealing a truly stunning blade from the newcomer.

The boy just watches as the new man stumbles over his own words, not quite sure what to think. He makes a nice save though, according to the boy, when he turns to the bartender. The sword is definitely something to ask about, astounding, and the boy couldn't wait until the bartender responded about it.

The man in black kicks the doors open, and not even his golden mask can hide his anger. He looks around the saloon. There is a bartender talking to a boy, but the Boy is not there. He bellows into the ceiling, for he knows that he is in the wrong place. The Boy is not there, that means that his information was not true. He silently promises to kill the woman that had told him a lie. The bartender looks at him, and so does the boy under the hood. "Whisky?" Asks the bartender, "A cigar, perhaps?"

"I don't drink," responds the masked figure, "But give me something to punch, or stab, or kill." Seeing the bartender reaction, the man gives it up, and goes sit with them.