it's nine o'clock on a saturday [open]

[Lucille Evi Vanderbilt]

Lucille watched as the door of the Railroad Stop slammed closed, rolling her eyes at the banging it made. The doorframe and walls visibly rattled, although the racket hardly added to the current noisy atmosphere of her bar. Some of the patrons sitting along the path the departed man had taken had sneered and raised their glasses to him, shouting out expletives or laughing in his face about getting his ass handed to him by the lady boss. 

The vampire winked at some of them who had turned around to grin at her, then cracked a smile and turned away to wipe at the glasses she'd washed. Her place may be a dark old dive bar whose attendants were of the most atrocious creatures known to humankind (herself included), but Lucille was intent on enforcing some level of refinement. Thus she had unashamedly kicked the succubus out for attempting to start an altercation with a druid by insulting his potions. She wouldn't have intervened and would've let the argument die down on its own, if it weren't for the fact that the succubus's hand suddenly closed around the druid's throat. The druid was also a regular and Lucille did not tolerate those who harmed her most loyal customers. They were as close of a family as she could call anyone in this town, now with her relatives all dead. 

The druid had come up to thank her afterwards, but she'd handed him a margarita and waved him off. "You're welcome. But while I'm sure that's an awesome potion like your other ones but you really do need to put some peppermint essence in that concoction, Ed," she said, wrinkling her nose. "Put a stopper on that now, or take it outside. Can't have you stinking up my bar, that's Gary's job." She grinned impishly at the werewolf, who was sitting within earshot. He growled back and threw her a half-hearted glare. His buddies chuckled. 

The Railroad Stop was lively as always. Patrons approached her frequently, and she politely held conversations until she was obligated to attend to an order, though she gave the regulars a little more attention. She knew that a lot of people came through because she was still, for some reason, famous in the community and they wanted to go to a famous person's place and be close to the famous person, while some others had heard about her good looks and wanted to get a peek themselves. She could tell who those people were, leering at her. It was why she'd gotten a protective spell from one of the witches, woven in a 3-foot radius outside the bar, so that those sketchy people were barred from entering. They'd brought in money, but Lucille had never cared about that. And speaking of which, it was almost time to renew that morality spell. She debated whether or not to request to add to block out souls who were violent, but then thought better; she'd be banned from her own bar. 

She was in the process of greeting one of her regulars that had ambled up to the bar for a refill. "This is your last one, Francine," she warned as she grabbed the tap to top her beer mug. "I'm putting it on your tab. Five's your cap, 'kay? Either you can't afford more or will die from alcohol poisoning before you pay me." Then, someone on the other end cleared their throat and she turned her attention towards them as she finished watching, in concern, the witch stumbling safely back to her table. "Hey. Welcome to the Railroad Stop. What'll it be?"

Words: 601
Tags: OPEN

[Cricket]

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Cricket elbowed their way into the seedy bar, shoving open the door and then walking with a lot more care once they were inside. They were eighteen and technically underage - the drinking laws hadn't changed in Louisiana from the greater US as far as they knew, even if it did count as an entirely different country these days (or something) - but, hey, nobody knew that and nobody had to know that. They were on their own! So if they wanted alcohol, they could get alcohol. That was a part of being an adult. They could buy whatever they wanted! They had their ID with them, too, although it listed their actual age (eighteen as of three weeks ago)

With their guitar and backpack - the grand total of Everything They Owned in the world - they were about three times as big. Paths that could fit Normal Cricket couldn't fit Cricket With Everything. They'd had time to get used to that fact, at least, and now they navigated to the bar with some skill if not ease. They double-checked themself: they didn't smell. Their luck with finding bathrooms to clean up in had been keeping strong so far, thank God (or the Allmother? that was! something new!), but they hadn't had any luck in finding a room to rent. Still, they hadn't even been in New Orleans a week, so it was only a matter of time. Their busking - and savings from when they still lived with their parents spawn points - kept them fed. Their instincts had kept them safe. It sucked that they had to find random places to sleep, but eventually, they would have a place to stay; it was only a matter of time. And they hadn't lost any of their shit to thieves.

So far, so good, at least.

The human stood out like a sore thumb in a bar that was mostly supernatural beings, but while it was obvious they were human, even with all the bulk on their back they were able to hunch up their shoulders and pretty much blend into the background. Even as a kid, Cricket didn't always want to be noticed, so they had long-ago mastered the skill of blending into the background scenery. It worked pretty well. Maybe too well, because it was coming up on ten minutes and the bartender still hadn't noticed them, despite some lulls in the conversation. Then again, she also seemed terribly popular, customers always talking to her.

The whole damn place was friendly, except for the asshole who'd been chewed up and spat out. It was all they could do not to laugh - jerk was harassing someone, even attacked them, and had been humiliated for it. It was a justice that Cricket could definitely get behind, especially since it didn't end with too much violence and zero bloodshed. They'd heard some pretty scary stuff about the 'outsiders', but they didn't buy it.

People said some pretty scary stuff about them, too, and about none of it was true. They were just themself, and wanted to be theirself, and that was the end of that. The atmosphere of the bar made them glad they'd trusted their instincts. Hadn't lead them wrong this far, huh? Got them all the way to Louisiana from so much farther north. Louisiana was stupidly hot, which sucked, but otherwise New Orleans was even better than they had imagined, starting four years ago.

Finally, Cricket cleared their throat to get the bartender's attention, brown eyes sparkling with the sort of faint humming-buzzing excitement they'd had the whole damn time they'd been in the city. That seemed to work - on cue, the bartender turned to them. And... they hadn't thought about what to say or order in advance. She was pretty, too, they decided, all tough but kind. They didn't spend long checking her out, just a brief glance over before moving on.

They take a deep breath, settling into an empty barstool near them now that they had someone focusing on them. "Uh," they said, sort of glancing around for a menu, "Shit. I'm pretty new to drinking." That was true! They figured they couldn't pretend to be super-familiar with drinks and shit; that'd be a dead giveaway that they were lying through their teeth about their age. A lie of omission, but still. "You give recommendations or surprises? Cuz I'm up for either! Oh, and, um - you have any kind of food? I want a meal, too - a burger would be great if you have that, but if you don't I could really use a menu..."

They trailed off, smiling sheepishly at her, and hoped they could get away with ordering alcohol this young. If not, well, they hoped still they wouldn't be kicked out and that they could just buy food instead. They had the money - money they'd earned through their music, because despite the accusations of their angry mother egg donor when she first called them after they'd left, they were not a thief.

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black lipstick will never be a sin[break]we'll regret it when we're old with wrinkled-up skin

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word count[break]862[break]notes: hope you don't mind me jumping in![break]tags: Lucille Evi Vanderbilt

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[Lucille Evi Vanderbilt]

As soon as she shifted her eyes on the new person, the atmosphere of the entire bar changed. 

Oh, this was going to be good. Lucille grinned in spite of herself, fangs showing and eyes gleaming a little too hungrily. 

A human had entered the bar. The vampire could smell the sweet tang of their iron-rich blood. It was as alluring as the smell of frying meat was to a dog; and if Lucille hadn't already fed an hour ago, she would've had a much harder time restraining herself from attacking this person. 

She could see the werewolves sniffing the air; the druids and the witches huddled into their little groups, gossiping and casting glances over to bar. And the succubi and vampires, of course, were staring hungrily at the young blood blank, on the edges of their seats. If Lucille hadn't gone to attend to them at that moment she was sure that one of them would've tried to attack the human. 

"Back off," Lucille snapped, a growl entering her voice, the feralness of a creature guarding her prey. Everyone looked away pointedly, though Lucille knew that they would continue to eavesdrop. It was not often a human came in, but they were not unheard of in the Railroad Stop. Some of them had come based on a dare by their stupid friends; admittedly, Lucille had let her fellow vampires in the bar loose on those idiots, holding a thrilling spectacle for everyone else to watch as the humans were fed upon. Oh, well, it was their choice to come here. Other humans were harmless blokes were just looking for a drink at a cheap place; and who was Lucille to deny them that? Thus she knew that most of the patrons, with the exception of the hungry vampires, would lose interest soon in the newcomer. 

Lucille set one last snarl towards said vampires still watching them in their corner, baring her fangs. Scram, she mouthed, eyeing the specific individuals whom she knew would not conduct themselves properly; most of them took the hint and left in a hurry. With a slam of her palm on the surface of the bar, the loitering succubi scrambled out the door, too. The other species chuckled sympathetically, while the remaining vampires sat back complacently, watching through hooded eyes. She may not have any intentions of feeding, but it was still an instinct for the vampire to be possessive of a human shed'd found. My bar, my dibs, assholes. 

With that done, Lucille finally addressed the human. "You're in the wrong place, blood bank," she said with her own sneer. "Plenty of human dive bars to go to that have shitty food and cheap beer. Here, you are the food. At least to me, anyway. Be thankful that I'm full, for now, unlike those bitches and bastards I just sent out the door." Resting her elbows on the table and leaning forward, Lucille smirked and stared the human in the eye, speaking a low voice as conspiring a secret. "And all that aside, don't think I don't know you're underage. The fact that you think this place has a menu speaks volumes on its own. And while that lofty voice might work for your little musician gig that you got going on--" the vampire gestured towards the human's guitar "--that doesn't help you sound any more like an adult. So for your literal own sake, I suggest you piss off." With that, Lucille lifted herself off the bar and turned her back on the human, flicking her hand dismissively back at them as she sauntered back towards the mountain of unwashed glasses she had to attend. 

Words: 614
Tags: Cricket

[Cricket]

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They... really should have seen this coming, huh? They'd blended in before, easy and casual and relaxed, and then they drew attention to themself and wow! Did the atmosphere sure change, huh! Still, they noticed several vampires leaving, the fact that the bartender defended them. And yeah, they sure did feel like prey - but she still defended them, still turned away. And Cricket would never grow as a person if they didn't try to get used to this. They came here for the supernatural beings. Being stared at like they were prey was par for the course.

However: she had their number, pegging them to be underage. Their cheeks flushed. "I'm eighteen," they grumbled, "Not a kid." At least not anymore. It didn't stop people from considering them a kid anyway, but still.

Cricket took a deep breath, shifting in the seat. "I knew this place wasn't a human dive bar walking in. I'm not that unaware. I..." They traced the bartop, looking at the old stains. "...chose it intentionally, actually. I don't think a friendship between food and predator is impossible, you know? Or a friendship between anyone at all. So you could say I was... curious, I guess? Wanted to meet people?"

They could go in a long spiel about being queer, but they weren't sure how well that would go down, so they just swallowed it back. Relating yourself to someone who called you a 'blood bank' - yeah, they didn't think that'd be a good idea.

"I do have money, though," they added louder and with confidence. "You can't tell me you don't even have a burger or something, there are not exclusively vampires in here..." At that, they looked around anxiously. "....right?"

At this point, they were confident that any chance of seeming mature had flown right out the window. They were too awkward. So they didn't bother to try. Cricket tugged on the strap of their backpack, a determined set coming to their mouth as they looked at Lucille once more.

"I have money, I can pay, and I want food. I'm not going to cause any trouble, either. And if I'm not looking for alcohol, you have no reason to kick me out - at least until after I've eaten, right?"

They gripped their backpack's strap with a white-knuckled fist, staring Lucille down without flinching or shaking. It was probably a stupid idea, but they were committed. And they'd never get used to New Orleans if they avoided a whole section of the populace. So: shitty bar. Good atmosphere (that they had absolutely ruined the instant they spoke up and drew attention to themselves). One vampire who they were going to convince to at least tolerate them. They could do this. Probably.

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black lipstick will never be a sin[break]we'll regret it when we're old with wrinkled-up skin

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word count[break]480[break]notes: cricket, you should NOT be this calm.[break]tags: Lucille Evi Vanderbilt

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[Lucille Evi Vanderbilt]

The kid had refused to leave. Lucille rolled her eyes as she began rinsing and wiping off the beer mugs with a cloth as they muttered behind her, "I'm eighteen. I'm not a kid." 

Just what a kid would say. Lucille bit her lip and made eye contact with a druid, widening her eyes and mouthing the words to him. The druid smirked and shook his head in agreement. And as promised, most of the other patrons had turned their attentions back to their drinks and individual conversations, the lackluster of the human having lost their attention. "You really must be naive if you think being eighteen means anything besides just an arbitrary milestone set by the legal system so that you're eventually tried as an adult," she called back in a flat voice without looking behind her. 

There was a pause, and Lucille thought the human had finally left. Only: "knew this place wasn't a human dive bar walking in. I'm not that unaware. I..."

Lucille put down the glass she was cleaning and jutted her chin as the human tried to find their voice. "...chose it intentionally, actually. I don't think a friendship between food and predator is impossible, you know? Or a friendship between anyone at all. So you could say I was... curious, I guess? Wanted to meet people?"

"Stupid." The vampire ambled back to her human patron as she tucked the dishcloth into one of her back pockets. "You're stupid to think that this place would be as welcoming as you imagine. This district is dangerous even in supernatural terms. You're better off being curious and meeting people in the VO, where the nice VSCO-girl-type witches are. Lucky I was behind the bar. Really, you're lucky for now. Humans that have come here in the past have been on the menu for me and my fellow vampires. I'm not kidding when I say we're mean when we're hungry. Become more animals than the werewolves." Briefly, she entertained the idea that this kid was homeless, which was likely. Otherwise, no other human would set foot in this death trap. As someone who had drifted around herself, Lucille couldn't help but be a tiny bit sympathetic. But then the kid's voice grated her ears again, and the feeling was lost. 

"I do have money, though," the human continued, almost shouting now. Lucille sighed and resisted the urge to bare her fangs in frustration. It was really tempting to bite them now. "You can't tell me you don't even have a burger or something, there are not exclusively vampires in here... right?" 

"Kid," Lucille huffed, her glittering eyes betraying the temper boiling beneath her exterior. "Do you see a kitchen here? There are two other entrances besides the door. One is the backroom where my staff put their things. The other is the bathroom. If I were to fry burgers-- which I hate myself so I will never do that-- it would be more than the vampires that are drooling. And I do not need to wipe werewolf slobber off my tables all day." She was satisfied, at least, to see the kid's confidence visibly withering by the minute. 

"I have money, I can pay, and I want food. I'm not going to cause any trouble, either. And if I'm not looking for alcohol, you have no reason to kick me out - at least until after I've eaten, right?"

The vampire had already retreated for the second time and was making her way back to the sinks again. Lucille paused in her tracks and closed her eyes, counting to ten. Then, she opened them and turned slowly to face the human once more, her movements controlled so she didn't lash out and break her own rules of no violence. "I do not want your money. I do not need your money. Stop talking about the fact that you have money. We all do here. Except for the ones who don't have drinks. Obviously." Lu crossed her arms and breathed out through her teeth, about to officially order them to get out. And then, she didn't, because the kid was right. What was the point to do that? Plus, if the kid did leave, they would likely wander deeper into the Aeterna District and inevitably get gobbled up by succubi or vampires, and the story would be that Lucille Vanderbilt was so heartless as to let that happen. Something in her conscience told her that wasn't going to be received well, even by the darker creatures of the community. 

"Fine," she snapped, going into the backroom and coming out with a new bag of pretzels, tossing it onto the bar counter in front of the child. Then, as an afterthought, she filled a freshly cleaned beer mug with water and placed it next to the pretzels. "I was going to eat that, but I've decided to be magnanimous tonight." She really needed to finish washing those glasses, and so she pointedly turned her back for a third time. "Finish eating and then get out. Get out of the Aeterna District. I don't have anything more here besides alcohol, which I am not giving to you. You can tip if really want with your money, but not pay. I don't even know what the f*ck to charge you." 

Words: 888
Tags: Cricket

[Cricket]

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Cricket shrugged as the bartender called them 'stupid'. Maybe! Maybe they were! Naively optimistic, stupidly hopeful, it wasn't like they were unfamiliar with the concept that they did stupid and reckless things. Hitchhiking their way to Louisiana, sneaking across the border illegally, that was all stupid.

"I haven't found that neighborhood yet," they admitted, pursing their lips, "But thanks for the tip." And for the advice that this was a Really Bad neighborhood, though they had pegged it. It was just far more affordable than anything in nicer neighborhoods, and they really were trying to save. Shitty dive bars were basically their only option until they got some kind of consistent income and a room to kick back in. Walk to nicer neighborhoods to get good tips, walk to shitty neighborhoods to eat, walk to places in-between to sleep. It was a balancing act and they'd already had one run-in with some cops because they happened to pick a bad place to sleep.

Then she talked about not having a kitchen, and they flinched, making a face. "Oh," they said, their voice once more getting really, really quiet. They hunched up their shoulders, their cheeks reddening once more. They apparently had the awareness to notice it was a supernatural bar, but not enough to realize there was no kitchen. Realizing that, all their bravado left them in one fell swoop. It was hard to keep stubborn after being that fucking embarrassing. Did they just have no sense of anything at all? Were they too taken with New Orleans to realize reality?

They pulled off the beanie on their head, running a hand through their hair before shoving it back on. The bag of pretzels got their attention, and they blinked at them and then grimaced.

"Thanks," they said, their voice still really quiet, "Sorry I'm, uh, stupid. I won't take what you're planning to eat, I really did think there was a kitchen. If I had seen there wasn't one when I first got in, I would have left. Sorry to waste your time." They rubbed their arm, pushing the pretzels back before getting up. Fuck. It was a walk of shame and they weren't quite ready to leave yet, either. They wanted to observe, to learn, and they weren't about go into another shitty dive bar that wasn't run by humans with human customers. And there was another part of the city they hadn't even seen yet. Witches might be a bit easier to tackle than vampires and werewolves, which as far as Cricket knew both ate humans.

But... damn, they couldn't give up on things yet. So they shuffled out of their seat and hunched up their shoulders, hoping now that the novelty had worn off people would ignore them. Hell, if it looked like they were leaving - maybe the bartender would ignore them?

They gave themselves the mental time of ten minutes and started kind-of-sort-of counting down, making their way to a corner near the door where they would be out of the way, mostly unnoticed, and could once more get a feel for the atmosphere. They couldn't help but feel like it was all just people. People that weren't human, but... people. With different interests, tastes, personalities. It was so normal, so typical, something that could come from anywhere. And they wanted to be a part of it.

If Cricket didn't get along with humans and Cricket couldn't make friends with, well, not-humans, where did that leave them? No. They were friendly, they were likeable - they had friends, even if they couldn't contact them right now (they needed money for their phone plan...). They just felt shitty because a plan had backfired. It was not the end of the world.

Revitalized, they held their head a little higher and just allowed themselves to enjoy the cozy-feeling atmosphere of the bar. Then, of course, they'd leave. Best to not overstay their welcome, at least not more than they already had.

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black lipstick will never be a sin[break]we'll regret it when we're old with wrinkled-up skin

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word count[break]683[break]notes: lucille can either engage cricket again or we can assume that cricket's leaving after ten minutes, up to you[break]tags: Lucille Evi Vanderbilt

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[Lucille Evi Vanderbilt]

Lucille frowned in bemusement as she watched the human writhe under her glare, pushing the pretzels back. They then slunk away from their seat, presumably heading towards the entrance. 

"Oookay..." the vampire muttered to herself and swiped the pretzels from the bar counter before anyone else could reach them, and threw them onto a stool she kept inside the bar area. What the fuck? She shook her head, bewildered, but turned back to her dishwashing chore. Not her problem anymore. If the human got scared and wanted to leave, well, that was probably for the best. 

She hummed to herself as she wiped the last of the wine glasses-- wait, when did she serve wine in this dinky place again? Oh right, when those vampires came in last night demanding fine wine and I had to give them my Cotes de Nuits. Lucille sighed wistfully as she remembered. If she was being honest, the only alcoholic beverage she liked in this bar that she served herself was the vodka. At home, she preferred wine as well, which was why she'd kept that bottle of Pinot Noir under the counter. Studying wine was a quirky hobby of Lucille's that she'd picked up while she was laying around, tangentially related to her job of selling alcohol. At least she'd gotten to pour a glass for herself before the vampires drank it all. Tragic. 

The memory had soured her mood slightly, and she was still mourning that Cotes de Nuits when she turned around to pout at her patrons. Why was this guitar still here? And the backpack? Her glance was drawn to the corner: miraculously, the human, still alive, had not left and appeared to be just vibing with the rest of the bar's atmosphere. So weird, Lucille thought, a little scornfully, even though the place was packed with abnormal creatures. She flicked the case of the guitar lightly with her hand, in an attempt to make a sound to alert the human to pick up their damn instrument and hobo sack of a backpack. Snatching up the pretzels, she ripped them open and finally allowed herself to eat for the first time today, popping a couple of the snacks into her mouth. "Huh," she remarked, leaning against the back of the bar, her eyes flicking back curiously to watch the human watch the bar. Well, at least they weren't annoying. Otherwise, Lucille would've eaten them herself by now, while charging the other vampires for a sip. 

Eventually, a patron signaled for another drink, and Lucille wiped her mouth, washed her hands, and turned to attend to him, the human forgotten. If they left or got eaten, she wouldn't have seen, and she no longer cared. 

Words: 454
Tags: Cricket 
Notes: here, what's considered a crime is up for debate, really. 

[Cricket]

Sure enough, they left.

The problem wasn't them leaving. The problem was that they came back. It was a couple of days later, and they brought their own food this time. They hovered near the door, guitar and hobo backpack and all, and did their best to be ignored and ignore any and all glances shot their way.

If Lucille chased them out, they'd go, but - well. No other 'seedy bar' gave them the same good feelings as this one and no way could they ever possibly blend in an uptown place. They shoved their beanie a bit harder down over their ears, hunching their shoulders as they very, very carefully unpeeled their fast food.

If the bar patrons were human, Cricket probably could be quiet and careful enough to not be noticed. They moved with such a will to not be seen that it could certainly make one wonder. They had practice with it. And yet, despite everything... Despite the danger, despite the looks, despite the fact they knew they were going into a wolves' den, they kept going.

Cricket took a bite of their burger, chewing carefully and quietly. They had even gotten a bribe of an extra bag of french fries in case they needed to sweeten anyone up. If vampires could eat pretzels - and they saw Lucille eat pretzels - then they could eat french fries. The kid young adult didn't know of anyone who didn't like french fries except maybe people who were allergic to potatoes, and even then...

And if they didn't need the bribe, then they got extra fries. Notably, they did not have a drink. The meal combo was cheaper than buying things separate, but they weren't talking enough to bring their Pepsi into a fucking bar. Especially when they were on weird terms with the bartender. Owner? They assumed the bartender owned the bar, but -

Of course, this time, they resolved themself to ask her damn pronouns if she bothered to talk to them, becauae Cricket knew as well as anyone what assuming pronouns was like. And her name, obviously, unless she was just in a really bad mood. In which case, Cricket would continue to refer to her as the bartender.

And maybe plague her bar, like, once a week, in order to help themself adjust to the supernatural population of New Orleans. Which absolutely could go poorly for them, but hey! So could running away from home and entering Louisiana, and they did that well enough!

Cricket almost wanted to start a conversation with the bartender, but refused to even look at her. Even a human noticed eyes on them. They didn't want to force her attention quite yet. And who knows? Maybe she already had noticed them.

[Lucille Evi Vanderbilt]

It was about 10 minutes before Cricket's when Lucille pushed the doors open to her own bar, striding in and heading towards the bar. A few of the regulars chorused a greeting and she raised a friendly hand in return, as she passed them and swung into the back room to quickly shuck off her jacket. Then, she dismissed Kenny, the bartender on shift, and took over after saying good-bye and letting him collect his tips. Then, since no one was waiting to order, she paced back and forth in the bar area, checking things over and making sure everything was in her preferred order in case it did get busy and she wouldn't have to rush and worry about where things were. 

Lucille could tell that the human, the same maybe-homeless kid that had appeared a couple days ago and refused to eat the pretzels that she had so gallantly offered. That bag was now empty, so if the child had come back for it well, too bad. 

Her back had been turned, busy organizing some of the liquor bottles that had been placed out of order. She made a mental note to have a chat with Kenny-- this happened often, so much so that it became part of her routine to re-organize the shelves after Kenny left. If Kenny had a different idea of where certain materials belonged for his work area and they should communicate and agree on the same picture. 

Her cue was that the bar, like the first time, had fallen quiet; a hush blanketed the crowd and Lucille's attention was drawn to see what had happened. Of course, it was the human. The eyes of the patrons oscillated from staring at the human to glancing at Lucille. 

Whenever a human being did enter the bar, it went something like this: they would instantly draw attention of the entire bar. Every supernatural sense was trained on the human, assessing them, tasting their scent. The vampires drooling hungrily, the werewolves panting eagerly, the witches whispering frantically. And then everyone would look to Lucille for direction, because she was the boss, after all, and they would not violate her rules under the threat of being permanently blacklisted. Lucille then made a decision. If the human was a stupid dick who had come in for shits and giggles, then she would turn her back and thus a blind eye to whatever was about to happen. That was the signal for a free-for-all feast of the human. Oops. 

On the other hand, sometimes a poor bloke down on his luck and his finances just came in looking for a drink. In that case the small human portion of Lucille would feel a bit of sympathy for him and let him stay for a drink or two before ordering him out. All bets were off then; the individual was not allowed to be torn apart for consumption.

When the human child came in Lucille debated whether or not to turn her back. In the end she decided not to, because that would go against her previous precedent of letting that human live and Lucille did not need to deal with that cognitive dissonance. So she waved a dismissive hand at her patrons and among a smattering of pouty grumbling, pushed through the swinging door and made her way towards the kid. If they proved to be irritating once more, well, Lucille wouldn't be there save them. 

"You've got some nerve coming back here," she snapped, throwing up her arms and narrowing her eyes. "And bringing food? Do you know how hard it is going to be to not only prevent the vampires from attacking you, but also the werewolves? Those mutts can't avoid the smell of meat." she sighed and crossed her arms, continuing aggressively: "You got fucking lucky that I'm on shift. If you'd come ten minutes earlier you'd be dead by the time you stepped inside. I gave a do-not-keep order for my other bartenders for if you showed up again." It was true; Kenny and the others had approached her curiously the day after the human's first appearance to ask about it. Lucille had given them an uninteresting account of what had happened (nothing, really) and when Kenny asked what to do if the human returned on his work time, Lucille had said with a shrug that she didn't care what he chose to do, which was basically giving permission for Kenny to lead the feast. "What do you want? What are you doing here?" 

Words: 758
Tags: Cricket