The Pub -- Bar

[Administrator]

A nameless pub in the heart of Hell's Kitchen, shady business goes on down here...

[jewelkent]

((New Day...Reserved for Baby))

Jewel sighed as she walked into this non-descript bar in Manhattan. She had never been in this area before, but she was desperate and needed a drink. She figured she had to get out of the Bronx for a bit. As she sat at the bar, she blew a frustrated breath out.

She had so much happen to her lately, and it made her dizzy. Between her selling papes....she also was severely taken by Specs, a casanova Manhattan boy, who didn't give her a proper status on where they stood after she showed him the sights of the Bronx. She had never seen him again after that day, and in some ways that had depressed her.

That is until she met Sweetheart's brother Evan on the front steps of the Bronx Boys Lodging House a few days ago. There, she met her destiny. Her mind took her back to when he kissed her for the first time and asked her to be his girl right on the very steps of the place.

Jewel looked into the glass that she had gotten from the bartender. *I've gotta stop over-thinking everything....I really do.* she thought to herself.

[Baby]

It had been a pretty stressful day for Baby, she'd run from the bulls at least twice today but she still managed to make it away with the wallets she had pickpocketted. She was worn out and on her way back to the Lodge House when her thoughts turned to how nice a cool drink of scotch sounded. Walking into the Pub she allowed her eyes to scan the room as she put her hands into the pockets of her pants making sure the wallets were still there. When her eyes fell upon a familiar young girl she made her way across the room. Baby took her seat at the stool next to Jewel.

"Heya sweetie how have you been?" she asked sweetly as she ordered her drink and watched the bartender serve her. She handed the man a few quarters before turning her gaze to her friend. "You look abit out of it.... everything alright?" she asked in slight concern, though Baby was one to want attention on her, she also was the type to give attention when it suited her, especially for a friend.

[jewelkent]

Jewel turned to Baby and sighed heavily, trying her best to smile at the girl beside her.

"Well, if you count the fact that I have not slept in days, my selling is becoming a headache in itself cause I'm not making a whole lot. Also...I was used by one of your newsies....then no, I'm far from alright, Baby." she sighed.

She wasn't so sure about why her and Baby hadn't seen each other in a while, but she was sure that the girl was busy doing other things.

"On the upside, I got a new boyfriend. His name is Evan...but he's also known as Shadow. He's the older brother of this girl I've taken under my wing in the Bronx. He's really cute." Jewel said, with a slight smile on her face.

"So...How's life out here in Manhattan for you? The boys making mischief as always I guess? I haven't seen you in a while since that time I was in the Lodging House with you." she sighed.

[Baby]

Baby shrugged abit as she took a long much needed drink,"Not much has changed, just been really busy lately trying to keep some younger newsies outta trouble and keep money in my pocket..." she said. She tilted her head and smiled,"thats sweet that ya found a boy yer a sweet girl ya deserve someone ta treat ya right," she added as she took another drink. She didn't know really what else to say alto of things were going through her head lately too, she'd had some encounters with a few older boys a few nights ago, she'd been feeling abit lonely lately but nobody would ever guess because she carried herself so well.

She swirled her glass abit and tilted her head back looking up at the ceiling,"Just tryin' ta make sense of this life these days tryin ta find purpose,"she muttered in her logical mindset as she glanced over at Jewel and smiled softly. "If he's a sweet kid like you, ya should hold onto him as long as ya can," she mused in advice.

[jewelkent]

Jewel laughed softly "He is a sweet boy, Baby. He's also very 'Destiny-like'...ya know? Where you get a feeling from a person you just met...and it feels like you've known them forever...Well, that's the way I feel about Evan and I. Does that sound odd to you?" She asked Baby.

Taking her shot down, she turned to Baby and sighed "Boys are such an immense amount of trouble sometimes, if I wasn't so damn in love with one right now...I wouldn't even bother with them at all" she sighed.

Jewel looked up at Baby "Trying to make sense of your life, you say? Well...have you found yourself a man yet?" She asked her.

[Banshee O'Hara]

((New Day- Reserved for Jax McCloud))

Banshee fought to keep the smile at his own good fortune off his face as he sat at the bar of a dingy Hell’s Kitchen pub. The hunch he had formed in his mind based on a conversation he’d overheard earlier while selling had paid off, and the result was a pocketful of money honestly won on some well placed bets at the ring. The fact that it was enough to take Shannon out somewhere decent, should she accept, with still enough for a few drinks before beginning the long trek back to Brooklyn was enough to merit a grin, but he knew that looking too pleased with himself in the Kitchen would draw the kind of attention that would like as not result in someone trying to relieve him of it.

Taking a long drink of his pint, he let his eyes wander the dim interior, scanning the light crowd for any of the few lads he knew among the predominately Irish population of the neighborhood. Normally content to keep to himself, a good turn such as this warranted sharing, at least a bit, and standing a mate to a drink wouldn’t arouse suspicion. But, as luck would have it, a quick glance revealed nothing but strangers, and he turned back to his drink with a slight shrug. Taking another drink, his mind wandered to the fights he had watched earlier. A few of the fights had been lucky guesses, but the real windfall had come when he placed nearly all he had on McCloud. A Brooklyn boy himself, but one Banshee knew only in passing, he had been building a reputation for himself down at the ring, and it was overheard talk of his wins that had prompted Banshee to make the trip over the bridge that evening. Glad that he had, he pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it before settling more comfortably on his stool.

[Jax McCloud]

It had, by all accounts, been a mighty fine day - at least as far as Jax McCloud was concerned. He could still feel the soft hum of expended energy in the stretch of his muscles and the shouts from the crowd echoed even as he darkened the door of what was becoming a bit of a habitual stopping point after a fight. As much as Jax enjoyed the notoriety his name was starting to bring in the ring, he still found he treasured the quiet moments just after, when he could slip away and find a moment to himself. Besides, a man deserved a stiff drink and a smoke after four solid rounds and a clean knock out.

Settling onto a stool, Jax waved over the bartender and placed his order, fumbling for and finding a cigarette that he lit with some gusto, sucking in a long drag. It was always a good day when the only signs from his time in the ring were a bruise along his jaw that was only just beginning to tinge his skin - and his knuckles which Jax sort of thought might always stay the reddish purple color - the marks of a fighter. His eyes flicked over the bar, finding with some relief that it was mostly empty; he was in no mood for the company of his last visit. Instead he found mostly lone men sitting at tables or tucked onto stools just as he was, his closest companion was the semi familiar face from Brooklyn, though Jax would be hard pressed to provide his name. Though he found lodging there, he kept mostly to himself in the house and spent the vast majority of his time at the ring or finding some place to train and keep his body in shape. But he sent the man a semi friendly half nod when they briefly made eye contact just as Jax's drink arrived and he took a long, appreciative sip before setting the glass with a hard thunk back onto the bar.

[Banshee O'Hara]

A flicker of movement in the mirrored glass behind the bar caught Banshee’s eye and his hand paused momentarily as he brought his cigarette to his lips. Completing the action, he took a long drag, his gaze following the new arrival’s reflected movements. Though he had seen Jax around Brooklyn here and there, watching four rounds of the well matched bout earlier had given him a new respect for the quiet loner. And if that hadn’t been enough, the solid hit resulting in the other pug’s KO had been a thing of beauty. Releasing a stream of smoke, he turned his head slightly as Jax settled a couple of stools down from him. His mannerisms were almost mild, Banshee thought, in comparison to the terror he had been in the ring, and he found the contrast somewhat intriguing. Taking a swallow of his beer, he glanced back over at Jax, catching his eye briefly as he finished his own visual sweep of the bar and returning the half nod with a small jerk of his head.

Banshee waited until Jax had finished his first well deserved swallow before offering the older man a guarded but friendly enough grin. “Fine bit o’ a scrap that was t’night,” he commented before taking a deep pull of smoke. Not normally one to strike up random conversation, the roll of money in his pocket had his spirits high, and the fact that most of that money was due to the fellow beside him, he figured the least he could do was buy the guy a drink and offer congratulations for a fight cleanly won.

[Jax McCloud]

It was Banshee's voice that caused Jax to turn his head, study his closest companion with a bit more interest as the man congratulated him on a well fought match. He'd seen him around for sure, usually across the crowded bunk room or hanging around McGinty's, though Jax couldn't say they had ever spoken before this moment. But his grin was generous, his words congratulatory and Jax was feeling in the mood for some light conversation and company after the day's victory. So he shot Banshee a lazy grin of his own and lifted his head in quiet acceptance of the man's words, "Thought I might have seen ya out there."

In truth, Jax didn't often scan the crowds when he was in the ring, his focus always on his opponent and the match at hand. But between the matches while he was waiting for his own, he always sneaked a peek sometimes spotting a few of the others from his borough dotting the crowd. He couldn't directly say where Banshee had been sitting or if he'd even stayed for Jax's match, but his words indicated that he had. "Every now and again I get lucky," Jax said, taking another long drag from his cigarette as a smile tugged at his lips, as he imagined they both knew that while luck had something to do with it, skill had it's place as well.

[Banshee O'Hara]

Banshee shrugged noncommittally. “Aye, ye might have,” he allowed, though if Jax had, in fact, seen him, he’d be surprised as he’d spent much of the time roaming the fringes of the crowd. A lot could be learned by sifting through bits and pieces of overheard conversations, and Banshee had capitalized. Still, the man looked sharp enough, and Banshee was willing to believe that maybe he had been seen. Either way made no difference to him, as it was the returned grin and friendly tone that Banshee felt was the true meaning behind the conversation rather than the literal small talk. Settling more comfortably on his stool, he took a drink, his eyes scanning the thin crowd again in the mirror.

Banshee turned his gaze back towards Jax, releasing a stream of smoke around the knowing smirk that quirked his lips. “That last hit mighta had a bit o’ luck behind it, but the rest…” He snorted a little, laughter dancing in his eyes as he shook his head. “Luck…” he muttered under his breath as he raised his cigarette back to his lips. Banshee had been in more than his fair share of fights, and while luck was always there for anyone to find, he found that it often favored those that had the skills to do it justice. He figured it to be even more true in the ring where, unlike the no holds barred, often rule less scraps he usually found himself in, it seemed everyone had the skills to a degree, and it was a matter of who had more skill and style than the rest. Jax, from what Banshee had seen of him, seemed to have plenty of both. Releasing another stream of smoke, he eyed his nearly empty glass and signaled the bartender. “Well, if it was luck, boyo, it managed t’ cast it’s favor my way as well, an’ for that, I’d like t’ buy ye a drink, yeah?”

[Jax McCloud]

"Luck enough that the bastard ducked right into my fist," Jax mused with a smile that toyed at his lips as the smoke from his cigarette curled and danced in the air. There was a light teasing to his tone but the analysis of his fight was shrewd and well thought out - his opponent had been a fair fight, matching him punch for punch during the first three rounds, but in the fourth his concentration had slipped and that's when Jax had got him. He tossed a smile in Banshee's direction as he further mused the fight, but eventually let the thoughts fade, deciding instead to focus on celebrating the victory. Which is what Banshee was offering in a sort of round about way of thanking him for a match well fought and the money that now it seemed lined both their pockets.

It still surprised Jax sometimes, that others might come and watch him fight, lay down hard earned coin on whether or not he might best the opponent of the day. He'd happened upon the boxing almost by accident in his travels, willingness for a bout and the thirst for entertainment among the citizens of the towns he passed through funding his wanderlust - but now it was becoming something of a job. But he wasn't in the habit of turning down a drink offer when it was given and so he tilted his chin in a sign of acceptance and grabbed his glass to make quick work of what was left in it before pushing it back in the direction of the bartender. "I would seem you know my name, can't say as I'm placing yours," Jax admitted with some measure of regret, thinking he probably should have paid more attention those moments he lingered around the lodging house.

[Banshee O'Hara]

Banshee smirked. "Fair play t' ya," he said with a nod as he studied Jax, taking in the slight bruising along his jaw. His opponent had been no pushover, and in fact, Banshee knew that more than one had bet against Jax. Though he’d never admit it, Banshee himself had experienced a few moments of uncertainty towards the beginning, until it became clear that Jax’s focus was unwavering, while the other pug’s seemed to deteriorate as the match wore on, and he knew it was only a matter of time before Jax won the bout. Still, it had been a good fight all the way through, and luck or skill alone, the outcome was the same, money in Banshee's pocket and the urge to buy Jax a drink. Raising his own glass, he downed the rest just as the bartender appeared with a fresh round. Handing the man some money, he then tipped his glass towards Jax. "Slainte," he said before taking a drink.

Taking the last drag from his cigarette, he let the smoke trickle out slowly as he regarded the older man. That Jax didn't know his name neither surprised nor offended him in the least. The Brooklyn lodging house was large with a lot of changing faces and Banshee's name didn't carry near the notoriety that Jax's did. Truth be told, it was because of that notoriety that Banshee even knew his name or paid him any mind at all, as he didn’t usually make an effort to study his fellow lodgers unless he had reason to. He knew his leaders, and the ones that warranted his respect, but beyond that, so many came and went that he had never tried to keep them all straight in his mind. Stubbing out his cigarette, he gave a casual shrug before holding out his hand. "Go by Banshee," he answered with a slight nod and a friendly smile. The stray thought occurred that he might have to start using his given name if he got a job at the docks, but he’d gone by his nickname so long now that it sounded almost foreign to him. Not to mention that there was another that would learn it long before he gave it to anyone else.

[Jax McCloud]

"Appreciate it," Jax said once his drink had been refreshed and he lifted his glass to mimic Banshee's in a modified toast before taking a swig. Banshee's lilting accent marked him as an Irishman and Jax considered that the city seemed to swell with them somedays, but he found most of them to be a genial sort who liked their drink and found joy in the sharing of it. So he sent Banshee and another small nod as the man toasted them before setting down his glass and setting his cigarette thoughtfully in the corner of his mouth. Jax wasn't a loner by nature, but had developed into one in an effort of self preservation, finding that keeping to oneself was a good way to keep your nose out of trouble when you managed to be a stranger in a strange land. But he'd been settling into Brooklyn for weeks now, faces becoming more familiar and Jax figured it was about time he made a more concerted effort to learn who he marked time with, even if it was from across the room.

Reaching over, Jax took Banshee's offered hand and gave it a quick shake as his other hand retrieved the cigarette from his lips and he blew out a long stream of smoke. "Banshee," He repeated with another nod, flexing his hand as some of the residual ache from the fight started to seep into his joints. Brushing it aside, Jax turned his attention to his companion with some measure of interest as he took another long sip from his glass. "You make it a habit at the fights?" Jax asked conversationally, not having noted Banshee there before but knowing that his memory couldn't be counted on for faces in the crowd when he was fighting for his own skin. He let the cigarette between his fingers burn down until the heat pressed against his fingers and he dropped it on the bar, grinding it out with the bottom of his half filled glass.

[Banshee O'Hara]

The corner of Banshee’s mouth quirked the slightest bit when he heard his name repeated in the unfamiliar cadence of the man beside him. New York was full of accents, and Banshee had heard them all, but Jax had a slow, almost lazy way of speaking that thoroughly belied the quickness and intelligence of the man. The uncommonness of it sparked his curiosity, but questions of a person’s origins or past weren’t something he went around asking. The man’s handshake, though quick, had been firm despite the way he flexed it after, and Banshee could see the telltale bruising along the knuckles. He knew that feeling well enough, though not with the regularity of a prizefighter, and he didn’t envy Jax the stiffness that constant bruising was sure to bring.

Jax’s question caught Banshee mid drink, and he shook his head slightly as he swallowed. “Nah… Don’t usually have the time,” he denied with a slight shrug. Long days selling and evenings spent at McGinty’s trying to catch the stray moment with Shannon kept him well occupied, and left little room for the long trek into Manhattan. “But there’s honest money t’ be made, if one’s willin’ t’ risk the gamble, an’ as I both found meself in need o’ the money an’ have never minded the risk….” he said, trailing off with another shrug and a slight grin. There were other, more certain, albeit less honest, ways for him to get the money he needed for his plans regarding Shannon, but some inner, somewhat contradicting, sense of morality made him reluctant to use those methods when it came to her. She was a lass that deserved the efforts of honest labor, and though ringside gambling was far from that, it was still a legit step up from the pickpocketing he usually fell back on when selling left him short.