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Post by Catriona on Aug 15, 2006 13:03:59 GMT -5
The neighbourhood Jakobim found himself waking up in is a rough one, so there are not many libraries here. For as far as he can see from the vague outlines of buildings and signs in the mist, there are quite a lot of taverns, bars, inns, rooms for hire, ladies for hire- but most these things are closed this early in the morning. He finds a hole-in-the-wall sort of bar, called Angel's, that appears to be open. A look inside tells him the place is all but empty.
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Post by Jakobim on Aug 15, 2006 17:41:56 GMT -5
Jakobim wanders into the bar.
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Post by Catriona on Aug 15, 2006 18:16:27 GMT -5
The bar is all but empty. There is a paintless bar with a couple rickety bar stools, and three paintless wooden tables with a few chairs. There is a woman in a green miniskirt and a white blouse sweeping the room, a man sitting at a table with a book and a mug of coffee, and a mongrel of a dog padding around, whining a little for a scrap. The woman looks up briefly when Jakobim enters, and goes back to sweeping.
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Post by Jakobim on Aug 15, 2006 18:45:31 GMT -5
Jakobim slumps down on one of the bar stools.
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Post by Catriona on Aug 16, 2006 5:28:39 GMT -5
The stool creams dangerously under Jakobim's slump, but it does not break. Yet. The woman, broom in hand, potters over to behind the bar, sets the broom against the wall, and leans forward, her elbows on the bar, sounding very bored.
"What'll it be?"
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Post by Jakobim on Aug 16, 2006 12:10:50 GMT -5
"Um..."
He glances over at the other man for inspiration.
"Coffee. Please."
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Post by Catriona on Aug 16, 2006 17:04:52 GMT -5
"One coffee." The woman drones, potters over to a big stone can, picking up a cup on the way. She pours a cup of something black and strong-smelling, and brings it back to Jakobim. The cup is brown and she provides neither a spoon nor a saucer, but there are small spoons in a pot nearby, apparently for grabs, as are small cans of milk and sugar cubes. "That's three coppers."
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Post by Jakobim on Aug 16, 2006 21:16:33 GMT -5
Jakobim digs into his pocket. There's a moment of panic before he remembers that his small change is in a purse hanging from his belt. He counts out three coppers and hands them to the woman.
He takes a careful sip of the stuff.
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Post by Catriona on Aug 17, 2006 4:58:41 GMT -5
The woman takes the three coppers without another word or look, and goes back to sweeping. The stuff is warm, and black, and a little like coffee. It is certainly strong: it feels like a kick to the stomach, it wakes you right up. The man at the table puts his book down and stares off into space. The little dog comes padding over to Jakobim and whines a little, sitting on its hind legs with his front paws a little pathetically and uselessly held up.
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Post by Jakobim on Aug 17, 2006 12:35:23 GMT -5
Jakobim takes a much larger sip.
He gazes down at the dog, looking a bit amused.
"Hi, dog."
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Post by Catriona on Aug 17, 2006 17:00:38 GMT -5
The dog makes a sound between an enthusiastic woof and a hungry whine. The woman swipes her broom at it half-heartedly.
"Don't bother my customers. Mutt."
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Post by Jakobim on Aug 17, 2006 17:35:03 GMT -5
Jakobim glances at the woman, but otherwise maintains his attention on the dog.
"No food, sorry."
He straightens and takes a few more sips of his coffee in silence.
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Post by Catriona on Aug 17, 2006 17:45:44 GMT -5
The dog yelps and dodges a second swipe with the broom. The critter whines a little and moves away with its tail between its legs. The man with the book puts it in his pocket and stands, making ready to leave. As he walks towards the door, Jakobim notices what looks like a wallet under the man's vacated seat.
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Post by Jakobim on Aug 17, 2006 17:47:25 GMT -5
Jakobim turns and stands, a bit more stable after so much caffeine. He addresses the man.
"Sir!"
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Post by Catriona on Aug 17, 2006 17:53:59 GMT -5
The man turns and gives Jakobim a questioning glance. "Hm?" He is around 45-50, a man with a lined face and a crooked nose. He has a thin, greying moustache, and grey locks in his hair.
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