Topic: A Night at Warehouse 12

Shaw Carwin

Date: 2007-02-13 17:39 EST
"The night time is the right time, peach, so they say." Shaw nodded, lips curling into a smile that ceased being a smile somewhere around his cheekbones. He reached under the cheap molded plastic bar (the shipper was being delayed by inclement weather, so Warehouse 12 did not yet have the aged steel bar the decor called for), and produced a small glass medicine dropper, half-full with a thin transparent liquid.

"You're sure you want this?" Brown eyes peered under rising brows at the girl, probably just barely past the age of majority. When she nodded, he reached over her glass, and squeezed out one, two, three drops. Dropper put away, he snatched a swizzle stick and swept it through her colorful drink. The added chemicals caused it to cloud a bit at first, though that dispersed quickly enough.

"You'll want to drink that quick. Don't need to chug, but if you take more'n half an hour, that'll start to crystallize in there. Stirring it'll slow that down, but not by much." He brushed his hands off on his charcoal slacks, then ran fingers over dark chestnut hair. "That'll be, hm, one gil, for the drink and the clear together."

At that, the girl blanched. "A gil" I..." She dipped her hand into her purse, and came back out with six silver coins. "I...this is all I can spare tonight." She held up the coins, green eyes going wide when she saw that Shaw was no longer even pretending to smile.

"Six sliv aren't going to do, peach. And I can't just go wasting that clear..." He was frowning, fingers moving to scritch under his chin. "I'll have to find a way to get the worth of the balance out of you." When the girl's expression turned to a sharper form of fear, her mind obviously turning to less savory services, he shook his head. "Ah, don't do that. Something like this, wouldn't take too much....Actually..." He trailed off, looking off to one side, snapping his fingers at a woman down the bar. "'ey! Merrian! C'mere!"

With a roll of her eyes, the woman put down her drink and moved over to the pair. "I got off an hour ago, Shaw. You can't just snap your fingers and have me rush over like that!"

Shaw smirked to that. "Isn't that what I just did" Besides which, got a proposition for you. You got four sliv for half a hit of clear mixed into an aurora?" As he spoke, that easy smile came back, though it kept clear of his eyes still. "Seems this one didn't bring her gil."

Merrian looked at the girl, then the drink, then back to Shaw. "Half a hit' That'll barely turn you purple. Still...four sliv?" She licked her lips, then slid fingers into a pocket, to withdraw a gold coin, which she set on the bar. "Give me those sliv, and get me a straw." She gave the girl a smile, friendly enough.

"I'll do you one better." Shaw took up two rocks glasses, and poured the colorful drink into them. A glance was taken between the levels, and he slid the more full drink in front of Merrian. When the girl who had paid the greater part of it looked like she might protest, he shot her a look. "Now, you owe Merrian here, peach. She just did you a big favor. Trust me when I say you'd rather owe her than me." Hands pressed to the bar, he leaned over it toward her. "Now, tell me. How'd you get in here without even having a gil?"

Shaw Carwin

Date: 2007-02-13 17:40 EST
"Stanwick!" Shaw had convinced Merrian to step behind the bar for a bit, and he was moving toward the row of private tables set against the side wall. One hand was held up, gesturing the large man looking his way to follow. While the right wall, coming in, of Warehouse 12 had the sort of booth one might expect to find in such an establishment, the left had fully enclosed tables. Walls surrounded them, with a large window set in the door and a half-table hanging from it for the servers to deliver drinks. Once Shaw and Stanwick were inside, Shaw closed the door and slid the metal shutter closed on the window. These tables were cut off from the rest of the club. Warehouse 12's patrons valued their privacy.

"What's up, Shaw?" The big man pressed his elbows on the table, looking across it to Shaw. "My dues are all paid up, and you know it."

"Of course they are, Stanwick." Most called the big man Stan, but not Shaw. "I just wanted to have a little chat." He glanced down at his nails, for a moment, before looking to the larger man once more. The picture of casual. "Now, members are allowed to bring guests, and I'm not going to say you can't. But..." He lifted both hands, making a motion somewhere between a shrug and a gesture back toward the bar. When the other man just blinked, he sighed and let his hands drop. "This is a business, Stanwick. We can't make money off of girls like your latest coming in here and ordering clear without even having a gil. You know what I mean, right?"

Stanwick was nodding before the question was even started, and sitting back in his seat. "Right. Right. I'm sorry about that, Shaw. Jenny's family's got money, I figured she'd have enough on her to have a good time." He shifted in his seat, uncomfortable. "If I hadn't been in the head, I'd have tossed down for it. You know I'm not out to stiff the place."

"I know, Stanwick." Shaw pursed his lips, looking at the slats covering the window. "'ey. How old was that girl" Jenny, right?" And now brown eyes turned back to the man across the table, boring into his own.

"Oh. Um. She's twenty, I think. Maybe twenty-one." Stanwick's gaze had dropped, and he shifted some more in his seat.

Shaw's expression did not change for a few moments. It was as though his face had frozen, for that brief period. "You're a liar, Stanwick. I'm fine with that, usually, but I don't like people lying to me. How old is she?"

Stanwick swallowed, audibly. "Er. Seventeen, she said."

"So she's probably younger than that. Otherwise, she'd have lied and said she was older. So you're bringing underage rich girls in here" Whose parents apparently don't trust her enough to give her a few gil on the weekend." Shaw was standing now, palms pressed flat against the table. "Don't bring her here again, until she's twenty. At least. That's at least four years. And no one else like her. Gods, Stanwick, you know the drill. I don't care how young your girls are, but never, and I mean never being underage girls with influential or wealthy parents in here." He adjusted his collar and sat back down, sighing. "At least, not without talking to me or one of the others. If we've got dirt on the parents, or know they won't mind, then that's one thing. Otherwise, we don't want their attention."

"Alright. Yeah. You got it, Shaw. I'll...I'll be careful about it, from now on." Stanwick was nodding, and pushing himself to his feet. He obviously hoped to have this meeting over. "Is...ah, is that all?"

Shaw looked up at him, a measuring glance, and nodded. "That should do it. You're not an idiot, Stanwick, so I don't expect to have to tell you again. And you don't want to put me in a position where I do, do you?"

"No…no, of course not, Shaw."

Shaw nodded, and left Stanwick behind. "Merrian. Appreciate the assist. Yours're on me tonight." And so he took up his place behind the bar once more.

Shaw Carwin

Date: 2007-02-13 17:43 EST
"Alright, people. The 12 shuts down at three, and three it be. Don't have to go home, but you know the rest." Shaw set a glass in the rack as he looked around, watching people filter out. "'ey, Merrian, I need to head your way to check in on Jimmy. You want a ride?"

Merriam was collecting glasses, and paused to look over. "I don't want to be any trouble." She smiled and brought the glasses to the bar.

"No trouble. Heading that way, anyway. Just wait in the lobby, I'll be out in a minute." He waved her to the door, then took up the glasses, moving them to the rack. It took little time for him to wipe down the last few tables, push in chairs, and lock up the night's take in the safe. When he moved to the front door, he heard shuffling from the other side. "Sorry about the delay, girl. I don't know what they spilled on the bar, but I don't think it—"

When the door swung open, it revealed a young man pressing Merrian against the wall. "You know you want this." He had one hand down the front of her shirt, the other palm held tight over her mouth. "You'll like it more if you stop stuggling." Merrian's eyes were wide as she looked past the man, who hadn't heard the door open, to Shaw.

"Let her go and get the fuck out." Shaw reached into his coat, brown eyes narrowing on the other man. "You've got five seconds, you piece of shit." At this, he drew out a handgun, a matte black semiautomatic. "Not asking again."

"Screw off." The thug scowled at Shaw and pulled his hand from Merrian's mouth, to pull a switchblade from his coat pocket. "Or I'll— Shit!" Whatever threat had been on the man's lips died away when the bullet tore through his hand, exploding the handle of the knife.

"You've got balls. I'll give you that. Get the hell out now, and I'll let you keep them. Provided I never see you again." Shaw was glaring through the smoke drifting from the weapon's muzzle. When the man ran, he moved to the door, to watch him until he was out of sight. Only then did he lower the gun. "Gods, this is a shit burg."

He kicked the remains of the switchblade out the door as he slid the weapon back into his shoulder holster. "If I ever see him again, he'll scream before I'm done with him. Son of a bitch." And he looked to Merrian. "Hells. Sorry, Merrian. Come on, I'll get you home."