CHPT 369: Learning the Game, Summoned-- not by Name..

And run it back he did. Again....and again....and again. To the point that it felt like he was cursed to fail every social encounter he engaged in.

He spoke to a fellow Night Runner, the man angrily shrugged him off, too wrapped up in the dancing women to want a conversation.

He even mustered up all the courage he could and approached a group of young women. It started out successfully with him buying them drinks. But immediately after they received them, they slowly cut him out of conversations.

By the fourth failure, the bartender that had been getting an absolute kick out of it offered him a free drink and struck up conversation with him.

Holiday spirit was very real. Even if Demons roamed outside your doors.

"So, you must be new to bars, yea?" The bartender asked. Despite the darkness of her complexion, he could tell her cheeks were reddened from all the laughter as she watched him with her almond eyes that matched the color of her milk chocolate skin.

"Nope...not at all." He replied.

She cocked an eyebrow at him as one of her braids fell down over her shoulder.

Claude relented. "Fuck it. Yea, I'm new to bars.....and people apparently."

All the urge to perform and act personable faded from him as his shoulders sagged and his arms came to rest over the counter top.

"Yea, I could tell by the third try. How'd you let those girls play you like that?"

Claude cringed at the memory and ran a hand through his hair, accidentally pulling down his hood. "....Man. It was that bad, huh?"

The bartender laughed, showing her bright white teeth that rested behind her black glossed lips, "Yes. It was fucking terrible. Cute, but terrible. I enjoyed watching..."

Claude was hit with a pang of confusion and thought, "How was that cute?"

"[CLAUDE! Shut the hell up! She's flirting, don't be a jackhole and ruin this, mate. Be relaxed, just as you are. And try to ease your way into questions. Don't overthink it....just relax. Talk to her like you talk to Ursula.]" Arne screamed in his mind.

Claude couldn't help but freeze for a fraction of a second. What Arne said was...well, easier said than done. He'd never been flirted with.....that stuff with Det. Cyrene will never count.

"[Relax.]" Arne pressed.

And Claude did.

"Well, I'm glad one of us got some enjoyment out of it." Claude replied while he swirled the gin in his cup.

The bartender watched him, her long eyelashes exaggerated by makeup and eyeliner batted at him like wings as she tapped her nails on the table, seemingly weighing her options of something. "Hm...How about I give you another drink-- on the house, to brighten your spirits.....IF, you stay and talk to me while I work for a while. You know, before you get back to your undeniably successful social work, Mr...?"

"[Oh my great gods, Claude! You're in!]"

Claude scooted in closer to the counter, beginning to feel a level of comfort. Their interaction was similar to a hunt. Or a game of chase. She was undeniably the aggressor. He had to play on that and let her continue pushing, meaning he had to give her openings where he wanted them, so she could lunge into the topics he needed to cover. Maybe? Might as well try.

"Alright, that's a deal....and it's Greyson." He replied.

Her smile brightened for a moment before she handed him another drink with a water, seeming to remember his previous requests with other bartenders.

He grabbed the water and drank it, noticing how she watched him lower his mask for the action.

When the water hit his lips, it immediately felt off. It was cold against his lips, harder than usual and strongly tasting of metals.

He coughed a bit as it went down.

"You alright?" The bartender asked, slightly on alert.

"Yea....the water just taste a little funny."

The bartender looked at him sideways again before relaxing, "You must be new to the City as a whole...Mr. Greyson. All water here is spiked with trace amounts of Silver. Keeps out the Shifters, you know?"

Claude stored away that information at the back of his mind. He had an objective.

"Yea, I'm sort of new here. But that doesn't really matter."

"Oh? And what does?"

Claude shrugged, "Conversation that isn't as embarrassing as my last few have been."

"Mhm.." She nodded, vaguely following along.

"We can start simple. How has your....night been?"

The bartender laughed, "Smooth. But, I can't answer that yet. This is why you've been failing. First you don't introduce yourself, and now you don't even ask for my name? Crazy as hell."

"Oh shit. That's so right....Sorry, what is your name?"

Claude watched as her eyes did the thing again before she leaned in to reply with an outstretched hand, "Rhonda, Rhonda Redd."

***

Claude and his new acquaintance Rhonda, spoke for the next half an hour or so. And it went well. He'd learned from what he observed. Much like Ursula, she was socially aggressive which made conversation easier. He had experience. But where Ursula was warm, brash and equally caring in her approach, Rhonda was much more visceral. If Ursula represented a young mama Bear socially, Rhonda embodied a Leopard. Quick with her words, deadly and just sly enough to work in her advances that were all drizzled with a hint of sexuality and playfulness.

It was intimidating to say the least. But it worked. She seemed to enjoy his shyness and socially awkward nature, which in turn was how he gave her more to chase-- areas of conversation for her to lunge at. And lunge she did. He was almost jealous and her and Ursula's social prowess.

After twenty minutes had passed. They spoke about a lot. Claude's endeavors with Monsters-- something she seemed to enjoy even if he honestly didn't, her endeavors with psychotic customers-- which he found quite humorous. And eventually, they got to the topic of the news.

He scrubbed her for all the information he could, and reasonably, she knew little. The information was new to her. Apparently Raiders and other criminal organizations steered clear of Hero Cities. So the news was a first, that also meant his assumptions were leaning towards being correct. Raiders were moving towards the Angelos District-- willing to take risks. Just as he was taking risks in the bar to learn more about them.

Unfortunately, that was really all the pertinent information he gained.

He slouched in his seat, folding his arms over the counter as he sat beside his four empty glasses. The smell of alcohol reeked from the floor where he'd poured it when she wasn't looking, hopefully he'd be able to leave before she or anyone else found it. It was too dark for humans to notice anyway.

"Fuck. This night was a failure for me. Ursula hasn't found much either...." Claude said as Rhonda dealt with a new customer somewhere out of his vision at the booths with the dancers.

"[Not entirely a failure. You've had some suspicions removed and gained a few points in your social stats. I'd say if we left now, you wouldn't be any less of a Lupine.]"

Claude shrugged, "Yea. I should probably get back to Frosty anyway and get this silvery taste out of my mouth."

As he got up and heard Rhonda's footsteps approaching and turned to face her, ready to give her a goodnight only to notice how she was pointing back at something behind her.

"Hey, Greyson. I didn't know you knew Cassidy. Why didn't you lead with that?"

Claude was too stunned to speak for a moment before answering truthfully, "I don't know a Cassidy."

Rhonda's sharp featured face twisted in confusion for a moment before she spoke, "Well, he wants to speak to you."

"Where?"

"Come this way." She said, leading him to the back.

Beneath the haze of smoke and overpowering smells, the dancers remained, surrounded by men and women holding their drinks tightly. Rhonda made a turn, leading him to the booths for seemingly more-- well funded, individuals and lead him to a section that hid the person on the other side of the chair from where he stood.

The faintest smell of fur hit his nose.

"Cassidy, here he is." Rhonda said before turning to Claude whispering, "It was nice meeting you, Mr. Greyson."

"erhm....Uhhh...Likewise, Rhonda."

She laughed as she walked away.

"[Well I'll be damned under a Full Moon...]"

Claude ignored Arne's words and circled the booth to see who'd requested his presence. When he found him, he didn't even notice the scarcely clothed Man and Woman dancing and flipping on the pole.

Instead, his eyes flashed to the three dogs at the back corner beside the booth. Hounds that resembled the appearance of Jackals, all playing with their own bone. The man seated in the booth still wore his hood that cast shadows over half of his face. His leather longcoat draped over the seats like a blanket while his arm rested over the crossbow on the seat.

"Beauty...is often on a spectrum-- aint it, Mr.....uhhh-- Mr. Greyson, was it?"