MacLaren's

[Laurie]

There was a little four-leafed clover on the glass the bartender set down on the bar for her, and Laurie couldn't help but smile, just as she did every time she walked into the establishment and ordered herself a drink. The Irish theme was tasteful but splashed all through the bar, green seats and stools, along with coasters and bar cloths, clovers on the glasses -- Laurie had at least one of the shot glasses in her apartment that she'd managed to sneak away with her -- and she could swear she'd seen a leprechaun somewhere in the place. Damned if she could remember where, though.

Lifting the glass to her lips and drinking some of the mixed beverage down, she spun lightly on her stool to take in the evening's crowd. It wasn't too busy in the bar tonight, the usual faces she recognised every time she came in with a few newcomers, a group over in the corner playing pool, laughing and swapping jeers back and forth as they passed the cues between them. Laurie smiled, taking another sip of her drink, resting one elbow back against the bar, getting herself comfortable.

One of the biggest lures of MacLaren's was that it was a whole other world when compared to Lunacy, and on her nights off when she wanted to head out and get herself a drink, maybe meet some new people and just enjoy herself, that was one of the biggest points to check off in her mind. She didn't want a rowdy, chaotic club, no, she wanted something like this. Something different, something refreshing and comfortable.

[Laurie]

Laurie had been inside of MacLaren's on St. Patrick's Day, and she could say from personal experience just how insane it was. People not only dressed in green but painted green, shamrocks and big hats and songs and all kinds of joyous laughter and frivolity. It was a good kind of insane, one that Laurie had enjoyed greatly, joining in with the singing and dancing even though she hadn't really known anyone. She knew a few names to go with faces now, but it wasn't as if she spent a lot of time every week in the bar, certainly not enough to know everyone or be recognised as a regular herself. It would take some time yet for her to earn that honour. Maybe one day she would have that title to call her own, but not yet.

The smile from the stranger had her returning one in kind. Laurie was the sort to be open-minded about strangers, optimistic but not naive, to her credit; if anything, becoming a bartender had quashed that naivety before it could really do any kind of damage. When you spent enough time behind a busy bar like Lunacy's, you quickly got to learn who you could and couldn't trust. This guy seemed like one of the former, thankfully. If she was going to engage anyone in conversation tonight, she didn't want that individual to be unsettling or disturbed in any way. Of course, you couldn't judge the whole book by its cover, just the first few pages, maybe.

"You're new," she leaned over a little to say to him, smile still on her face. "Which, coming from me, is saying something." It hadn't been too long since she had started visiting MacLaren's herself, after all, but she had been inside the bar enough times to know the first-timers. This guy was one of those people.

[Laurie]

Sometimes people took good fun a little too far and all that light-hearted enjoyment of an evening could just be turned on its head. A night could be ruined by those people taking something that had been fun just one or two steps too far and usually they weren't the only ones who paid for it in the end. Laurie had worked at Lunacy long enough to be able to say that from experience; she wasn't one of those who had to deal with unruly patrons, that was the kind of situation best left to the bouncers and the other guys who tended to patrol the interior of the club, casually going here and there to make sure people enjoyed themselves but didn't overdo it. She could handle herself, she had a trick or two up her sleeve that gave her an unexpected advantage, but that didn't mean she liked unnecessary conflict and confrontation.

She quirked one brow upward in response to his toast with an upward tilt of her mouth on one side. "Old?" Laurie gave him the perhaps-expected once over, her gaze not lingering too long at any particular point so as to give the wrong impression before her eyes found his again. She laughed to let him know she got what he meant though, shaking her head. "It's a nice enough place," she told him, lifting her drink to take a sip. "The regulars are nice and hey, you get a little Irish cheer with every drink." She lifted her glass to prove her point, turning it so he could see the clover.

[Deleted]

With a grin, Ian held out his hand and leaned against his pool cue. His opponents glowered, but the lot of them handed over the money owed. "Thank you, gentlemen, thank you," he rumbled. "It's been a pleasure working with you tonight."

Hey, he scammed them of their money, fair and square. Going back to the pool tables was like coming home for Ian; he could always count on finding a group of ego-bloated knuckleheads who would help him line his pockets. Tonight had been no different. He watched his victims skulk out of the bar and had no doubt that he had probably just conned them out of their drinking money for the evening. It was enough to make him smile as he pocketed the nice roll of cash.

Honestly, people needed to be more careful with their money.

He didn't really catch the low buzz of his cellphone until he ducked outside for a smoke. The name that flashed across the tiny screen gave him pause, but Ian answered nonetheless; Tess would chew his head off if she though he was trying to ignore her.

"Reign," Ian said by way of cautious greeting. "What'd I do this time?"

[Deleted]

"I-- fuck, I'm in a bad fucking way, okay?"

Any hint of mischief dropped away. Tess sounded fucking awful, that was for sure. They had something of a complicated working relationship, of only because Ian specialized in driving the young human up the proverbial wall but, when it came down to it, he tried to look out for her. This evening wasn't going to be any different.

"I'm at MacLauren's," Ian rumbled down the receiver. "But I was just leaving." From the back pocket of his jeans came the keys to his bike. His helmet had been left at home; he knew what a high-speed crash could do to a werewolf, but at least he'd be able to pick up Tess' scent. The wolf in him gave a low, dissatisfied rumbled, one that almost rattled up from his throat as he approached his parked motorcycle.

"Don't you move, Tess. I'm comin' to find you - hang tight, okay?"

He didn't wait for a response, ending the call as he swung a leg over his prized bike. Tess wouldn't have called him if she wasn't in serious trouble, and he wasn't about to waste time chit-chatting. The engine purred to life beneath him, then gave a great roar as he tore from the parking lot.

Continued in: Back Alleys