A Vegetarian at Meat

tainted love · 6...6...6...9

A Vegetarian at Meat

RoninKyan · Cooking Hayena

Kyan was, most decidedly, someone that practically screamed carnivore. He would eat just about anything that you put in front of him if he was hungry enough, but just from a casual glance he definitely gave off the vibe of someone who claimed meat as their favorite food group. Whether that spoke highly or poorly of his fitting into the current establishment though was anyone's guess. He was, actually, Six's opposite in most respects, physically. Shorter than his younger brother by a few inches, Kyan only hit 5'11" in height. His hair was short but unruly, a dark auburn in color that looked almost brown in some lights, and fiery in others. Stubble grazed his jaw seemingly permenantly, ginger in brighter lighting, and his complexion was the healthy, ruddy coloring that went so naturally with everything else about him. As a final touch, his eyes were green. He didn't really need to speak for it to be obvious what part of Europe he was from. The clothing, too, was a contrast to the new visitor's. Jeans that were likely several years old, a shirt that had quite obviously been worked in throughout the day, and a once-white apron that was now smeared with what one could logically assume was blood (or perhaps barbecue sauce). It even said Kiss The Cook! on it in stitching that had begun to unravel.

It was, of course, being worn because he was cooking. That was what he did here at Meat, when he wasn't helping at the bar, or throwing people out. Or getting Owen out of fights. Jobs were unofficial at best, with the clan all seeming to do whatever needed to be done. It just tended to be him that ended up with the actual meat more than the others did. That was fine though; he liked cooking. ...Well, he liked throwing raw things onto grills, at least, the way they came out was always questionable. Much like a diner, the area where food was prepared was visible by those at the bar from a section cut out of the wall separating the two. It was how Kyan saw Six sitting where he was, and also how he noticed that no one was at the bar to find out what he wanted.

"Owen!" The name was shouted even as Kyan was moving from the kitchen through the swinging door to the bar, fingers undoing the strings that tied the apron to him so that he could ball it up and toss it on the counter. Hygenic. His hands hit the counter in front of Six, arms straight as he leaned on them slightly, studying the guy. Human. "Oy, the fuck d'you want?" Pretty standard greeting for them, and although he definitely had the air of someone who might hit you as soon as greet you, there was no threat in the words. He just wanted to know what the fuck Six wanted. To drink and/or eat.

tainted love · 6...6...6...9

Six's brow shot up at the unexpected bark of another man's name from the kitchen. His attention appropriately shifted from his wallet to the - at that point - advancing cook. It was perhaps fortunate that he'd lived in the United States and had been a patron at dive bars often enough to not take the gruff, profanity-laced greeting personally. Others might have. Six found it strangely endearing. He found that he rather enjoyed the knowledge that he could have a beer in Meat and expect no idle chit-chat from the staff unless there happened to be something interesting to talk about.

"Pint of Guinness," he said, fishing several notes and a couple coins from his wallet. The monetary system in Italy was still taking getting used to, and he cursed under his breath when one of the coins dropped from his hand and hit his thigh before careening loudly to the floor. Ignoring it for the moment, Six just shoved the rest of the coins in his pocket and glanced back up at the server, "And by the sound of it," he mentioned, clearly in reference to the man's obviously Irish look and sound, "you serve it right, so I'll look forward to it this time." America was notorious for blaspheming Ireland's signature beer. The American insistence to drink beer in general, all beer, not just some beer, cold was bemoaned about by international people as close as Canada and as far away as Australia. Six understood the reasoning. He had been a dark beer drinker for several years and on the sole occasion he'd visited a true Irish pub owned and operated by actually Irish people who insisted on serving the trademark beverage at room temperature, as it should be served, he'd been utterly ruined on cold Guinness forever. The only unfortunate drawback of course was that grocery stores only retailed the beer in cans and bottles. The can was blasphemous to an extreme which was intolerable. The bottle was .... passable, and for years Six had needed to make do.

Although it didn't show on his face, per se, he was pleased at the potential for Meat to become a local bar in which he could finally start enjoying beer again.

"How much?"

The Bitch Wolf · Big Bad Bitch

She was by far, the least likeliest to find a place like Meat, yet she stared up at the front and cocked her head to the side. The blackberry in her hand forgotten for the moment as she drew in a deep breath, she smelled something. And it wasn't human. But she wasn't out to hunt down new and rare species, fuck no. Loke was out to test the beer that lingered inside.   A true conisuer of cheap and watery beer, she had emerged from the pack house starving for beer and outside influence.

Although her imposed sentancing was all her own making. She had a deep sickness, one that Van Gogh, DiVinci and many other artists suffered from.   The need to expell the art that had built up in them and get it out of there heads. When the need and urge to paint had finally left, she found herself of course first at her attorney's office. Thankfully the rapid talking native with a balding head and a growing paunch was able to handle the insanity with the Asylum. Sure the gallery side was done, the lighting had been installed and the two spiral staircases and elevators where installed but that didn't mean the rest of the place was ready. That was waiting on Silent.

She glanced back down at her blackberry and shifted it into the front pocket of her jeans before heading toward the building. Hand reached out and pulled the door open and she had to pause because of the smells that hit her nose. Within an instant her shields had pulled up and slammed shut tight. Amber wolf eyes shifted this way and that before she headed to the counter where the two men where.

Sliding a jean covered tush on to the stool she folded her legs. Loke was far from the frilly girly girl, she was rough, mouthy and she liked to proclaim herself the Queen Bitch when she was in the right mood. She sat silent, as the - sniff sniff - human played with his money. Tall drink of water he was. Ugh, she was starting to think like West.   Those amber eyes focused on the male behind the counter, who radiated and smelled of a beast she had not seen in a long time. Although his scent was not familiar the beast was, and it brought a twinge of something in the pit of her stomach. The last time she had seen or met a hyena she had been in Barcelona allied to them as they fought against the Vampires. A slight frown tipped those full lips downwards slightly.