A Sandman Walks into a Bar

Click Here for XP!!!

Brief Title:

Characters:
Sandman and Topaz

Scene Runner/Watcher:
Topaz

IC Date:
2013/06/19 16:13

Location:
Voodoo Lounge - Greenwich Village

Summary:
Sandman attempts to confront Topaz

Social or Plot:
Plot

TS:
No

Log:
After nearly three years of being a boarded up Greenwich Village eyesore, the Voodoo Lounge was
suddenly a flurry of activity. One day nothing and then all of a sudden a platoon of Damage Control
construction workers descended on the place and for nearly two weeks there was a flurry of activity
around the place. Now though calm has once more descended and the construction workers are long gone.
The place is no longer an eyesore or target for squatting or tagging. About the only public news
that has come out of the place is an ad for staff in the local papers, but as for being open, its
not common knowledge, but anyone living in the area, or even those that pass through frequently or
have been watching the area would know the place is open for business.

And with the Voodoo Lounge repaired and looking new, an old familiar body walks in. The doors swish open with a bit of strength and slam against the wall. Staring at the area and shaking his head disapprovingly, Sandman makes his way directly towards the bar and sits on a stool. He taps his fingers loudly against it as he waits for service.

There is the sound of movement behind the bar, bottles being moved around, etc. Someone must be
stocking the fridges back there. Topaz doesn't immediatly jump up when she hears the doors slam open.
After the altercation she recently had she knew she would be having this particular visitor sooner
rather than later. She'll take a moment to reach out with her empathic senses to determine which
personality is visiting before she stands, beer in hand, which she opens and sets on the bar for him.

At the moment it is clear it is Flint Marko as the dominant personality. As the beer is placed on the counter, a grin is formed on his place, “Wow. . .Billy-Boy had you trained well.” He looks over the beer bottle and it in one of his preferred brands. “So, this place reopened. So, how about you tell me where you teleported Jalen Richards too. . .and I don’t destroy this place.” He sips the beer.

"I'm a bartender, serving drinks is what I do." Topaz explains, she realized quickly that this
personality was nothing more than a big bully, and she has dealt with much bigger and badder ones
than the one sitting across the bar "I brought him here. Mr. Richards and I had a bit of a chat and
then he went on his way." she sees no harm in telling him that much. "I have no idea of his
whereabouts now. I imagine that he went home, packed himself and his family up and went off on a
nice vacation far away." she lifts a shoulder "That's a freebie." she leans over the bar, its hard
to be menacing when have the looks that she does, but she certainly tries hard, "Threaten my bar
again and it will cost you."

"You know, Topaz. You are starting to fu. . ." Sandman twitches a moment and his head tilts a little, ". . .starting to effin annoy me." He takes another a swig of the beer finishing it in one swig and then smashes the bottle of the bar. A sand fist forms on his left hand ready to strike at Topaz, but his right arm elongates holding the fist in place. A look of annoyance forms on his face. "You are making me want to hurt you. You're lucky I am showing restraint." It is clear from the hand blocking the fist, something is actually keeping from hurting her. "Where on vacation is Richards?"

An arm comes up as the bottle is smashed, but it is not a defensive motion, more like a sweeping
motion, the glass shards from the broken bottle hanging in midair briefly before finding there way
into the garbage without the mundane need for broom or dustpan "Restraint? Fine, we will call it
that." she obviously still of the beleive that he won't and/or can't hurt her, "That I don't know. I
made it a point to tell him where to go, just to go." Topaz has never been known to straight out lie
when asked a direct question. She just isn't good at it so just doesn't bother trying. "That is
strike two. Next time you will be lucky if I don't do more than throw you out."

“Yeah. . .restraint. . .I like to give girls a chance but if I need to rough ya up. . .I will.” The fist is still pushing against the hand. There is enough pressure between the hand and the fist, that they become hardened and bits of sand crack apart spilling onto the bar. The magical telekinetic display with the bottle leads him to believe she can try to back up the threat, “So yer’ a mutie, huh. Surprise Billy would stoop so low, but I guess yer pu. . .” His head twitches again, “I guess it all tastes the same at the end of the day. . .” The fist and hand continue to go back and forth a bit until the hand finally pins down the fist. Sandman notes what is happening of course, but makes no facial expression of it, but his emotional state reads of the battle going on inside. One trying to lash out and the other trying to prevent it. “What else did ya and Richards talk about. . .”

"Should I take that as strike three?" Topaz asks as he vaguely threatens her for a third time. She
doesn't correct him in his assumption that she is a mutant, she is mistaken for one quite frequently.
People would rather beleive that then the truth. She crosses her arms over her chest she senses the
battle going on but from past experience knows that any help she could give at this point would be
temporary at best and could cause a more violent setback. The Flint personality still being to
strong. Her expression grows hard "Out." she commands as the points to the door, the other wrist
twisting as if adjusting her bracelets. Bill would know the motion for what it was, a somatic
gesture to focus her empathy into a compulsion spell, one of wanting to leave.

“We’re going to be playing this game a lot more, you and I. It’s gonna be fun.” Sandman winks at her as he remains in the stool not making any hint that he is going anywhere. Tapping his fingers even louder on the bar as sand increases to each digit, he leans forward, “You know. . .I killed a bitc. . .” His head shakes. “I’ve killed a woman once before. . .So don’t think your special. Don’t think I can’t hurt. . .” Before yet another threat can be made, the sand in his head begins to contort similar to the way it did yesterday. It fluffs up like a balloon and then pops. The body on which the head rested crumbles apart. On the ground, the sand starts to snake towards the door.

The first set of tapping, when he had just came in resulted in a beer. Such is not the case this
time around. All it gets is a stare "But not today. Now get out." nothing more will be gotten from
her. When the head starts to swell she will lean back slightly and when it pops and the body
crumbles she will lean against the bar to watch him retreat. As he does her hard expression softens
into a sad one.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License