[Dead Heading] Pull the Trigger

Rick pursued Mitch towards the bar, but the Dancer had a significant lead. The man was likely to get himself in trouble without back up. Rick was already nervous about the political situation; he didn't want to see it worsen with having an up-and-coming mid Nobility get hurt or worse. His fears, however, were not abated as he caught sight of was going down with Mitch.

Ah Shit

Archie swooped ahead, which surprised Rick at first; he had thought he was heading out but must have noticed the problem. There was a chance Archie could fix this nice and quick. He was a slick, fast talker, and where that didn't work, throwing some cash might be able to buy them out of this predicament. Rick stepped in a moment later after Archie, nearly running into him at his current brisk pace.
Stepping to the side, Rick glanced over and realized his friend had frozen up, idly rubbing the hand that was shot. Rick was about to ask Archie if he was okay before he traced where his eyes were focused. Seeing Mitch in the situation he was in, Rick knew it could only get worse.

Ah SHIT

The darkling's eyes scanned the room, taking in the postures, the atmosphere, bearing of those around them. This is what the wisp did, adapt to the social environment with poise and ease.

"Hello, amigos!" He said, raising his hands up, greeting but subtly showing he was holding anything either. There was a sparkle in his eyes and a flash of a smile that almost shined with roguish charm. His shoulders had square, a self-confident swagger to his step.

Look strong, don't show fear, speak with respect, and demand respect in turn. Don't forget the charm.

"I see the white boy is already making friends without me." He gave Mitch a nod and friendly smile. 

"I hope he wasn't rude. It's been a rough morning." Rick scanned the group gathered for a moment to see who would speak up first. Hopefully he would be able to quickly pick up what exactly Mitch started here. 

It's almost as if he could see the future.  The situation could have been worse. Rick was working the room. He doubted Archie could work a kitchen sink, let alone a bar room blitz. All the same, Penrose made himself comfortable. Pretense. He loved pretense. Especially when the oh-so-happy residents of Whitney had no idea about what the other three Lost were all too aware of. "Man, what are you doing in here?"

He put on his best Concerned Parent. It was roughhewn, like everything Penrose said. But it was...warm, to say the least. Hand clasped on the shoulder. Jaw set. He was ready to wheel the dancer out of the room and into his nice shiny Tesla. "Whatever happened to the mantra, man? A Power Greater Than Me Can Restore Me. You're better than this." 

And then, to the bullets in the loaded gun that was this room. "He hasn't drank anything, has he?" 

His voice was surprisingly soft, looking to the ancillary for support rather than the few whose attention Rick had yet to garner. 

Ay caramba!

Mitch maintains a stoic expression as Rick conveys his sorrow towards the familial deaths, shrugging helplessly as the man picks him apart with his best, yep, I sure am dumb. 

He orders the bar a second round, synching with the Bright One's carousing in a cold, practiced manner that was effortless but entirely on autopilot. At least to those outside the Pledge his actions were completely mundane and anticipated. Rick's given the nod to join them, just as Penrose entered the scene and moved to remove the Fairest. Mitch actually jumped as the hand landed on him, causing some laughter.

Unfortunately, as Penrose asked about the foreigner's drinking a few cheered that no he hasn't.

And that was going to be rectified! 

Mitch's smile is tight as an entire pint of tequila is slammed in front of him, and the recovering addict is proceeded to be goaded into the game of his public apology. All in good fun, obviously; Rick had clearly swayed the room to hazing over a brutal beatdown. The Fairest still radiated an affable, harmless nature, and he was quickly welcome back as the bikers hollered in excitement at how quickly he drained the cheap poison. 

Archie watched the room carefully from his perch at the door, noting that a few of the gangsters had broken off from the group after one checked his phone. There was family here; a lot of the rough and tumble being polite towards their elders, and most were answering to a matriarch that watched from a quiet corner. Rick was being well-received, smoothing Penrose's attachment to Mitch where they were willing to hear him out. Mitchell, however, was likely going to be bullied as long as he was allowed to remain, the woman squinting at him with disapproval and shooing off several offers to make a statement by the younger men.

His car was probably going to get keyed and spray painted, but no one was going to draw weapons with so much of the Sunday Crowd mixed in now that Mitch was cleared of being an immediate Cartel threat.

It was time to make a call. Rick and Penrose had things on lock, Mitch looked unhappy with the whole thing. They were starting to meander. Seeing how the web was weaved he figured he could take advantage of. So finally prying himself from the wall he skirted the room to find himself heading towards the corner of the room to find the person everyone was paying deference to. Speaking with the Matriarch directly may be able to cut through layers of bullshit and make this happen.

“Good afternoon, ma’am.”

He held the back of one of the chairs at her table, but didn’t take a seat.

“I am sorry for me and my friends. I wish we were lost looking for the bakery but we are actually working. A shame on the Sabbath.”

He had gone to Temple earlier and knew a lot of the older members of the Latino community still held church in some regard. It was a point they could try and forge some common ground.

“If we were able to get some questions answered we would be quick to leave and I would make sure my friends found more appropriate places to drink.”

An exchange. We get our info quickly, and we leave quickly and we would be out of her hair and not darken her doorstep again. At least Archie wouldn’t.