Post by Deleted on Apr 27, 2021 22:12:40 GMT -8
This was not the kind of place that someone naïve about the realities of the world would go.
A dive bar just on the Paradise side of Whitney, Cleo's was a dank piece of shit identified only by a black door with a single, dull light bulb burning overtop. A narrow little building ran alongside an alleyway, the front of which contained smokers and the deeper part contained rats, piss, a used syringe and an overflowing Dumpster. Within were all the usual denizens of such a place: the token old man, students a little more read in on the street culture or who liked to try the place out on a lark, bikers, the odd drug dealer, and the old warden herself...
Cleo ran the place like Morton.
When you're good to Mama, Mama's good to you.
At the front of the pissy alleyway, a blonde man of average height wearing an outfit that looked just rough enough to be here and just posh enough to suggest that he could afford not to be sucked on a half-burned cigarette. Beneath the Mask, he had vague scales on his cheeks -- or was that a bit of carapace? It was hard to tell, so weak was he in the Wyrd, but the odd pattern in his eyes suggested something insect-related had happened to him.
There was a look on his face that suggested that he was bored as shit, and for the astute viewer, a look beneath his coat that suggested he was armed.
A dive bar just on the Paradise side of Whitney, Cleo's was a dank piece of shit identified only by a black door with a single, dull light bulb burning overtop. A narrow little building ran alongside an alleyway, the front of which contained smokers and the deeper part contained rats, piss, a used syringe and an overflowing Dumpster. Within were all the usual denizens of such a place: the token old man, students a little more read in on the street culture or who liked to try the place out on a lark, bikers, the odd drug dealer, and the old warden herself...
Cleo ran the place like Morton.
When you're good to Mama, Mama's good to you.
At the front of the pissy alleyway, a blonde man of average height wearing an outfit that looked just rough enough to be here and just posh enough to suggest that he could afford not to be sucked on a half-burned cigarette. Beneath the Mask, he had vague scales on his cheeks -- or was that a bit of carapace? It was hard to tell, so weak was he in the Wyrd, but the odd pattern in his eyes suggested something insect-related had happened to him.
There was a look on his face that suggested that he was bored as shit, and for the astute viewer, a look beneath his coat that suggested he was armed.