Mighty Combination (Open)

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The lady stood on a balcony within the Troubadour.  It was a fairly large club with a very pioneering feel to it.  It was appropriate for an urban setting such as Gotham, but there were little touches and details that made it clear whomever ran it was from Texas.  There was a sizable crowd enjoying a popular local band called Ashes On Sunday.  They were a rather talented, but unhinged rock group with a female frontman who wore a leather jacket and fishnets.

Rooster leaned on the railing.  It was a private little balcony that had a door that lead to the loft she lived in.  She would be seen, every so often, stepping out from her loft and onto the balcony to observe her club.  She usually had a gentleman with her, a man named George whom was her General Manager, and sometimes a man she called Tank, whom was the Operations Manager.

She watched for a few minutes before finally turning her back to the crowd below and leaning against the rail with her arms folded.  She gave a nod of approval to Tank and George.  They nodded back and faded off to other parts of the club.

"Check on FOH, Tank."

Tank heard the note and headed to front of house.  She looked over at George.

"See how the tenders are doing, Bella made need a break by now, she looks like she's about to punch someone out."

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Resting her head in a nest of her own arms, Briar heaved a heavy sigh. Tea was her drink of the night. This place had a distinct…feel to it. Rustic. But in a sort of exaggerated way. Not that it was a bad thing. Certainly differed from a dive bar or the Iceberg Lounge. Briar couldn’t exactly be made to care though. Her tolerance for these research expeditions was running thin. They felt the same. People came in to drink their lives away. Or dance. Or whatever. It wouldn’t be so bad if she had company, but…that would defeat the purpose of coming to study Gotham’s people and culture. Burying her head in her arms did that too.

With a sigh, Briar pulled herself up off the counter and turned around, glancing at the band playing. Brushing her red hair back with a hand, she noted movement up on a balcony overlooking the club. A woman looked down on them all before turning her back. Presumably the owner of this little establishment. Briar found her vastly more interesting than the rest of the people milling about the club, and so decided to stare with intense boredom at the woman.

After a minute or two of that, Briar turned back around to take a sip of her tea. Only to see that she was running on empty. Hm. Lifting her glass at a female tender who looked positively furious for whatever reason, Briar shook it. “Another unsweetened tea, if you would,” she sighed tiredly.

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Bella gave a hectic nod to Briar and took her glass and promptly returned it freshened back up and full. Just as she turned George made a sideways motion with his head, telling her without words that he would cover for her to go have a break. Bella smiled, relieved and headed out through a door somewhere behind the bar.

George was handsome and tall. His hair was chocolate and his eyes matched his hair in color. He had a friendly, yet reserved smile as he began filling some drink orders as they came. After about two minutes there was a lull. He glanced to Briar.

"Unsweet, hmm?"

Meanwhile Rooster remained with her back against the rail, thinking. After a couple of minutes, by the time George hit that lull and began to talk to Briar, Rooster came down a set of stairs behind a wall and emerged from a door at the back. She made her way over. George took notice and turned to pull a Lakewood Temptress from one of the beer tubs and poured it into a pint glass, placing it where Rooster pulled up to at the bar, a seat over from Briar.

Rooster picked it up and took a long drain off of it before setting the stout back down on the bar.

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Briar didn’t bother even to give the exasperated tender a second glance as she came to fill her glass back up. Not out of any sense of superiority, but because she seemed to be heavily preoccupied with other matters. Taking a sip of the bitter liquid, Briar watched the change of guard, somewhat happy for the annoyed tender. Looked like she was getting a break. Running a hand through her red hair, she looked at the tender who had come to take her place. Tall. Handsome. Friendly disposition it seemed, but one needed that as a tender.

Her Briar’s part, she ignored him only sparing him a glance as he glanced at her and questioned her preference in drink. She frowned slightly, but hey, it was a bar. Most came for an alcoholic drink.

“Yep,” was Briar’s curt response as she took a long drink from her glass. “And don’t…”

Trailing off as Rooster made her way over, Briar watched wordlessly as the presumed owner took over from her. Briar stared at the woman, considering if she wanted to start up a conversation. What would they even really talk about? Briar didn’t exactly need any specific intelligence from this Rooster. Hmm…Well. Given this bar had a rather unique atmosphere…she could ask about that.

“So…This place has quite the unique vibe. Do you miss it?” Briar asked, looking over to Rooster. “Your home.”

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Rooster took a moment before she actually looked to Briar.

"Better to be stranger in a strange land."

A smile came across her lips, which was seen, unlike her eyes hidden by the shadow cast by her hat.  Rooster took another long drain of her beer before setting it back on the bar, finished.  She gave a nod of the head to Briar.

"Welcome to the Troubadour, ma'am."

Rooster moved through the club, slowly, but steadily, it was as if had moved around her.  She had that sort of presence in which the seas and social entanglements parted for her when it crossed her path.  She carried herself with a high chin and remarkable mystique.  She wore an inky black pair of jeans, black boots with red and teal embroidery, a teal shirt, and black jacket, her favorite jacket, with feathers and all shorts of color around the chest and shoulders.

George leaned up against the bar opposite Briar.

"She ain't much for talkin'."