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Pool Hall(#3490RJ) Pool tables dominate the space of the hall, hardly yielding any space for the motley crew of players chalking their sticks and eying the brandy bottle at the bar lining one wall. The dust and scratches on all surfaces save the green velvet lining the pool tables indicate this hall as skimping on maintenance and cheap on cleaners. Its lack of flashy videogames and surplus of toothless kibitzers underscores its appeal to the older crowd. No natural sunlight is permitted into the hall, its lighting provided by bulbs swinging from the ceiling.

A recent 'renovation' to the hall has caused many splinters and embdeed bullet holes, adding much to the aged atmosphere. Ruddish stains, dark and ominous even under the lights, refuse to be washed out of the floor. A dart board brightens up the walls with its red-and-black scheme, and a moosehead looks down on the proceedings.

Gwyneth smiles in return, at Elan. "Indeed," she answers, rubbing one hand with the other a moment, before she lets both fall. "Good evening." Sally's question prompts a widening of her smile, and she returns, "Please. A Rusty Nail."

Salem glances up as the door opens, and his expression lightens considerably at he spots Gwyneth. With a crooked, rogueish smile, he lifts his glass to her in salute.

Josef's grin forms slowly as Sally brushes past him, distracted from his shot once more, but then settles to his game with a cat-like smile. Nearby, a dark-haired man seems to await the outcome of Josef's shot with interest diverted only by his appraisal of the comely barmaid.

The mage's request brings Sally a chuckle. "Would that be beer or soda?" she asks as she reaches for an empty cup. "Or coffee," the blonde adds almost as an afterthought. Indeed the pool hall's bar does not seem fancy enough for much more than those three options.

Gwyneth catches Salem's silent toast, as well, and angles toward his table. Reaching it, she drops her backpack carelessly onto the floor by a chair, and arches an eyebrow. "May I?" Sally gets an amused. "Beer. It'll have to do."

Currently on this breezy and cold winter evening in the general St. Claire area, it is 30 degrees Fahrenheit (-1.1 degrees Celsius). The wind is coming from the north at 6.85 mph. The ground is snowy. Skies are clear with a probable chance of precipitation.

Joey stands in the door before coming all the way in, tossing her dark hair back over her shoulders as she scopes out the room. Her lids lower and her smile grows as she spots Josef bending over his shot, but she doesn't move directly toward the blonde man. Instead, she moves her way toward the bar.

Joey(#3838Pc)

Chocolate-brown eyes rove the area with restless wariness from this mulato's face, her makeup accenting the intensity of her color rather than trying to lighten it to a more Caucasian cast. Her coarse brown hair is a shade darker than her eyes, and spills over her shoulders in a permanent wave. Gold glints in her ears and in her nose, and when she grants one of her rare smiles, on one tooth. Around her neck she wears a gold pendant on a chain--a howling wolf's head. In her mid-twenties or so and of average height and weight, Joey's clothes wouldn't look out of place on a college campus: faded blue jeans, a black smock, black boots and a black leather jacket. Spraypainted on the back of the jacket is the phrase: Film is Forever.

Salem sets his glass back down and grins crookedly at Gwyneth. "Of course you may," he replies, making a gallant motion toward the empty chair. The angry, withdrawn tension in Salem has burrowed away back underneath to slumber again.

"Good choice," Sally still sounds amused as she fills the plastic cup and places it before Gwyneth. Pausing only long enough to collect for the beer, she peeks into Salem's cup to make sure he's okay, then moves off. Joey gets well into the hall before Sally is free enough to call her usual greeting. She smiles at the other woman as she asks, "Getcha a drink?"

Joey's voice betrays the hint of a Southern drawl as she answers. "Yeah. I want a bottle of Bud." She continues toward a few stool, her eyes sliding from the barmaid to continue the look around the room.

Gwyneth hooks her foot around the leg og the chair, and tugs it out, before she perches. "So," she says, sliding the plastic cup closer to her. "Thrill me."

Salem chuckles briefly. "Tall order." He taps cigarette ash into a convenient ashtray and regards Gwyneth with a lifted eyebrow.

Sally sounds pleased at the order, or perhaps she's just in a great mood. "Coming right up." She places the bottle in front of Joey, chatting casually as she awaits payment. "Haven't seen you around here before."

Josef sinks the '3' with a sharp, short shot resembling a bolt springing from a crossbow. The cracking sound of the ivory cue-ball hitting the ball reverberates along with the rest of the background noise. Picking up the chalk, he polishes the tip of the cuestick to a brighter hue, walking with animal grace around the table while he judges his next shot. Another sharp shot sinks the '7', and gains an ill-humored comment from his opponent.

Gwyneth mmms. "You're up to the task, I think," she answers, then lifts that plastic cup with all the grace she can muster, making it look somehow appropriate in her hand. "You look well. You're feeling well, I hope?"

Salem lifts his own cup, smiling with rogue's warmth at Gwyneth, dark eyes half-lidded. "Things," he says, "are looking up."

Joey takes a drink before answering, but her dark eyes flick up and down Sally measuringly. Then a smile allows a glint of gold to show between her lips as she answers, "I'm new in town. I came in last night, but it must have been your night off. Or maybe you were on break. I wasn't here long."

Sally MacKay inclines her head, agreeing to one of the two. "Going to be sticking around, or just passing through?" Sally leans forward across the bar, keeping an eye on Josef's table even as she speaks to the other woman. "Three bucks," the blonde adds as she taps the botle's neck with one slender finger.

"I'll take that as a compliment, if you don't mind, Mr. Salem," she says, before taking a drink of beer, and setting the cup aside. She turns her head over her shoulder, to have a look around the hall. "It's busier than I expected. People anxious to be out, and seen, I suppose."

Joey digs with one red-nailed hand into her coat pocket, pulling out a black wallet. She hands over a ten-dollar bill, then unzips her jacket. "Run me a tab. Oh, staying for a while, I think." Her eyes follow Sally's to Josef's table, and her teeth flash again briefly. "I like the scenery."

Elan continues to play his guitar softly.

Josef finally misses his shot and stands back to let his opponent have a try, gaze searching the bar. Gwyneth with Salem gets momentary attention, but his eyes slide past to find the blonde conversing with Joey. Sandy eyebrows go up briefly in response, before a slow grin settles back into place.

Salem nods in agreement, leaning back in his chair and lounging sideways like an idling leopard. Though his eyes occasionally wander over the pool hall, the majority of his attention is for Gwyneth. "Mm. And it's not even Friday."

Sally smiles at the lifting of Josef's brows, then steps away to take care of the money. Chuckling, she notes Joey's look and nods an agreement, then takes a step to her left to fill another cup before slipping back around the bar. "How're you doing over here," Sally asks as she nears, not stopping till she's arm-to-arm with him. She holds out the cup as if offering him the beer, but the look in her eye might hint that the kinswoman is up to something.

Joey pushes herself on one of the worn seats, watching with a slight smirk.

Gwyneth's attention returns to Salem. "I wouldn't expect a place like this to be busy on a Friday. Maybe I'm underestimating the importance of pool."

Salem shrugs. "It has beer, doesn't it?" He waves his answer away with a dismissive flick of his cigarette hand. "Nevermind. Where do /you/ go on Fridays?" This last is delivered with an arch of an eyebrow.

Gwyneth tsks. "The corner grocery has beer, and there are more comfortable places to spend a Friday night than behind a table with noxious green felt glued to the top, and a stick in your hand." She smiles, smugly, and props her elbow on the edge of the table, chin on her hand. "Dancing. That's where I go. Someplace where I can feel the music."

"Really." Salem leans forward, elbow on the table. He brings the cigarette to his lips, inhales, then turns his head slightly to expell grayish smoke someplace other than right in Gwyneth's face. "Alone?"

Elan puts up his guitar and looks to Sally. "See ya later? When are you off?"

Josef startles but briefly, recovering swiftly and with an approving grin from the unexpected re-arrival of the blonde barmaid and especially the means. His near arm disengages from her grip to slide smoothly around her waist, pulling her against his side as he replies. "Even better now. If this place has such excellent service all the time, I may have to come more often. You on break?"

Joey's eyes narrow slightly. She takes another drink from her bottle, then crosses her legs. The top leg's toe twitches in an unconscious habit, but her hands don't drum in nervous answer.

"Now, really," Gwyneth purrs. "Who dances alone?"

Sally nudges Josef with her hip. "Hell, I'm here all the ti-" she glances back at Elan's call and deftly slips free of the other kin's arm. "Be right back," she promises, setting his cup down as she heads back to the Gnawer. She steps up next to him, remaining on his side of the bar. "You heading out?" she asks and gives him a smile, then nods at his cup and tells him his total for the drinks.

Elan nods and slips Sally a few grimy ones. "Yeah. I gotta head out,. Business."

Sally MacKay nods as she ducks behind the bar to take care of his money. Giving him a wave, she stays on her side as she says her byes.

Salem makes a low 'mmmm' noise like the rumble of a thoughtful jaguar and smiles slyly at the woman seated across from him. "Good point. Still... I think I'll have to join you sometime, when you go dancing. I doubt I'll be able to look myself in the mirror otherwise."

Joey turns to watch Sally go to the young man. The kinfolk tilts her head, her eyes relaxing to heavy-lidded consideration as she looks Elan up and down. She takes another drink of her beer, and turns her head to watch him leave.

Josef chuckles softly as Sally slips back to work, gaze traveling to Joey again. A thoughtful expression and a slight smile alter his features, before his rival misses his shot on the '11' to make it the kinfolk's turn again. Deftly, he makes the '2' in a bank shot, then works on lining up for the '8', taking his time to decide.

Gwyneth continues to speak languidly. "You'll have to tell me when you want to join me. I'll find a new place. Somehow, I don't think the goths, with their noserings, and cheek chains are quite your speed, and I'd hate to have an otherwise entertaining night ruined."

The kinswoman/barkeep finishes up with Elan's money and looks towards Gwyneth and her Garou, waiting to catch an eye before indicating their glasses with a nod and a lifting of her eyebrows.

Salem makes a derisive gesture. "I've been to places like that. That's not music, nor dancing. That's a chaos of noise and a bunch of screeching dying fish flailing about like impaled corpses."

Gwyneth tsks. "There's merit in most kinds of music. You just have to know what you're listening for. Still, it's not your kind of place." She notes Sally's look, and shakes her head, her cup still nearly as full as it was, then looks back at Salem. "Then again, I'm not certain what kind of place I should look for. A small crowd, I think? Something ... intimate?"

Salem shakes hs head at Sally as well before turning his attention back to Gwyneth. "That would be suitable, yes."

Her bartending duties taken care of for the moment, Sally meanders back to Josef's table. Once there, she helps herself to a drink of his beer as she watches his shot.

Josef misses his initial shot, and his opponent gets a second-life. The dark-haired man sinks his last two shots but also misses the '8'. Unfortunately for him, it also sets Josef up almost picture-perfectly, and with a smooth, soft tap, the ivory ball rolls across the table to strike the black solid, sending it into the called pocket quietly but decisively. With a grin of victory, Josef offers his hand to the dark-haired man, and goes to retrieve his beer, only to find it possessed by Sally. "Break time, then?" he asks with a sly grin.

Gwyneth's eyebrows lift. "Suitable? Not desireable? Enjoyable?"

Salem smiles archly. "I'd say that anything with you would be enjoyable, but then you'd accuse me of being cliched."

Not returning his cup of beer just yet, Sally nods. She takes another sip, her eyes on him over the rim of the cup. "Ten whole minutes," she does not sound as though she fully appreciates Reggie's 'generosity'.

Josef chuckles, reaching to re-claim his cup, fingers touching Sally's in passing as he does so. "Best to make the most of it then, huh?"

Gwyneth tilts her head a little, baubling it on the stand of her arm. "No," she says, the word drawn out, as her lips curve upward. "I'd say you meant to say what I wanted to hear. And I'd tell you that you were right. Anything with me could be enjoyable. I promise, and I don't make promises lightly."

"I know," Salem murmurs in reply, dark eyes intent on her face. "I can tell."

Sally doesn't easily give up the beer, though she moves it so slowly it's no trouble at all to catch. Their fingers interlace, then separate as the blonde draws her hand back. "Give me a second," She crosses to the back room and calls for Reggie to come cover things, then she returns to the Get kin, smiling as her eyes track down him, then back up to his face.

Joey doesn't seem to mind watching. She waves for another beer from Reggie and, receiving it, goes back to drinking. Her eyes range over the room, but they keep returning to the pair of blonde kinfolk.

Josef's eyebrows rise as he studies Sally with feigned surprise and nothing near platonic interest. "More time, then? How shall we fill it, darlin'."

Gwyneth straightens up, the hand that propped her chin falling to rest on the tabletop. "You're a perceptive man, Mr. Salem. I like that." She lifts her beer cup, and drinks, watching him over the lip.

"C'mon," Sally says, smiling as she takes his hand in hers and leads him behind the bar. She forestalls protests from Reggie with, "We'll go straight ou the back door, don't worry."

Salem grins crookedly, the cigerette smoldering quietly between his fingers, a thin curl of smoke rising up from the orange-embered tip. "Good," he says. "I'm glad you like it."

Josef, as he's dragged past the bar, turns to look at Joey. He gives her a looking-over even more blatant than any he's given Sally this evening; to anyone looking or familiar with the interplay, it suggests an knowing of her past acquaintanceship, a primal appreciation, but it's also shaded with the faintest of contempt obvious to the perceptive or empathic. "Evening," he says lowly in passing, then follows on after Sally, catching up to her to run a calloused hand through her hair as he follows behind her.

Sally misses the whole interplay between the two as she opens the door to the storage room for them. Her steps slow as Josef's hand moves through her hair, and her head tilts back a touch towards it. Then the two are through the door and it swings closed behind them.

Gwyneth's eyebrows lift again, oblvious, it appears, to the departure of the barmaid and the pool player. "Will you do anything that I like? Or do you pick and choose?"

Joey chuckles throatily, then finishes the last swig of her beer. Setting the bottle down on the bar, she says to Josef, "So you like white meat, as well as dark." Her dark eyes turn to Sally then. "Keep the change, sugar. I'll be seeing you around."

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