Oldrac's RPG: Official Actions

[Oldrac the Chitinous]

It's the tenth of July, 1935. Kansas City, Missouri: The town that finds a new definition for the word dry every week. Chief imports: illegal hooch and displaced Okies. Chief exports: dust, and last year's displaced Okies. At least the trains still run in and out of the city, if you had any reason to think things would be different elsewhere.

The Queen of Spades, located maybe two miles outside of the city proper, is among the favorite places for the Kansas city elite to gather to celebrate. It's no secret that this is the place to come for liquor that doesn't taste like the inside of somebody's tractor. The state police say it's a city matter, though, and the city police say it's out of their jurisdiction, when they happen to meet each other at the bar.

Most of the tables are empty; the show's not for another couple of hours, and two weeks of temperatures over the hundred-degree mark haven't left many people in the mood to celebrate. A few couples are eating supper, and a few men who refuse to take off their jackets are standing in a group under the air conditioner. There's a mother sitting in the corner with her son, probably four years old, nursing a glass in silence. The Mexican bartender is smoking idly while a couple of cherub-faced girls, probably about six or seven, move between the tables delivering the latest drinks.

[littleninja]

In the corner, blending with the shadows, a woman of slight build lounges in a chair with her back against the wall. Most people would not notice her at all. Her drink is untouched on the table next to her as she peers about the room from beneath the rim of a black fedora, eyes lingering on every person in the room in turn. She glances down at a piece of paper hidden in the palm of her hand, then resumes her survey.

[Edminster]

"It's positively criminal that they don't allow Man's Best Friend into this place", thinks Eddie. Unfortunately these people are his meal ticket tonight, so he can't really argue that he's a paying customer. So, Dog is tethered to Truck with a big bowl of food to keep him company. Poor thing. Hopefully the hobo that was hangin' around the kitchen doesn't catch wind of it, though. Dog would tear him a new one if that guy went for his food, and Eddie doesn't want that.

He's got enough trouble on his mind, what with the rising price of diesel and the fact that he still hasn't quite worked the kinks out of his portable still design. Boy, when he finally gets that thing running, all his money problems will be over. Until then, Eddie's gotta keep taking jobs at places like this. At least the girls are pretty and the water cool and refreshing. It's a good night.

[astasia]

There are five, or possibly six, small butterflies inside of her stomach, and she is fairly sure if she opens her mouth, they will rush up her esophagus and burst out of her mouth. It's not like she isn't used to performing. She is an actress. But, tonight. Tonight, she, Miriam Harelow, could be the lead. If only things go her way...

Mimi has not spent much time noticing the other patrons at the bar. This one drink is to settle her nerves, and she's not looking to make conversation. Maybe, just maybe, tonight will be her night. In that mostly empty bar, Mimi only feels the anticipation of stardom.

[LordRetard]

A large man wearing a dirty suit that is too small is hunched over his table, not even able to fit his knees underneath. His head is down and he appears to be trying not to draw notice but it isn't working; everyone can see him sweating bullets and watching the whole place, and everyone can hear him when he orders drinks by the pitcher in what he thinks is an indoor voice.

John is taking it slowly, though, because he's not here to start a fight, he's here to work, and when they cross over is his favourite part.

[dinnsdale]

Jimmy looked at the dishes piled high that he had been hired to clean. He didn't care much for money, but a job in a kitchen for a couple days? He just couldn't pass that up, especially when everyone else was too busy sweating to finish their plates. You sneaked another peak outside at the truck that had the giant.... thing tethered to it. Made him nervous. Although, its food bowl looked mighty appetizing.

But no. He had plenty to eat riiiight here. He proceeded to get to work-- licking every plate and bowl meticulously clean. Life was good.

[Lethal Interjection]

Sitting in a dark corner booth, a man in an impeccable three-piece suit sits, quietly sipping bourbon and looking smug. A newspaper sits tucked under his bowler to his left, and to his right is a recently vacated seat, once inhabited by a man tucked deep into his trenchcoat. He strikes a match and lights an expensive turkish cigarette he has pulled from his suit pocket and laughs to himself.

[Oldrac the Chitinous]

A man comes down the spiral staircase that leads outside and takes off his hat. By the look of it, he's an aging doughboy, about 40 years old but already mostly bald. He's wearing a gray suit sans necktie that's a little too long in the arms, and he walks with a slight limp. Marcie and John, this is your Mr. Yorba. He addresses the headwaiter for a moment, says a couple words, and makes his way to the far corner, where the mother and child are sitting, and eases himself down into the booth.

[LordRetard]

John sits up straight and pulls his head up, but does not stand up yet. Instead he watches Yorba, waiting for any signal to step in.

[littleninja]

Aside from her eyes, Marcie doesn't move.

[Oldrac the Chitinous]

Lou Yorba motions to one of the waiting-girls, then leans over the table and begins talking in hushed tones. He and the woman he's sitting with each produce an envelope; the woman takes Lou's envelope and pulls what appear to be photos from it, but Lou leaves his on the table. After a couple minutes, she puts the pictures back into the package and sets it down on the table. They talk for a couple minutes more, becoming visibly agitated, and after a little while, Lou and the Boy get up, and they walk together toward the exit, as the kid with Lou's drink follows them from across the room. The woman at the table collects both envelopes and slides them into her purse.

Jimmy: As he passes in front of the door to the kitchen, you can see that Lou is concealing a derringer, which he has pointed at the boy's head.

[Lethal Interjection]

William quickly swallows his drink, leaving a substantial tip tucked under the glass. He tucks the paper in his suit jacket and dons his bowler. Slowly and nonchalantly, William saunters towards the door, following the potential news story.

[dinnsdale]

Jimmy hears footsteps, and quickly removes the last pristine plate from his face. All those dishes, spotless, without a drop of water used!He should be getting some extra.

As he turns with the last stack of dishes, he sees a man holding a derringer to a boy's head pass the door. The kid's eyes are wide, and remind Jimmy of his little brother, Bobo. Even so, that was a nice-looking pistol, and if he could get it before a shot was fired, he'd have that much more ammo. Jimmy quickly put the dishes down, grabbed a nice solid pan, and went after the two of them.

[LordRetard]

John sees a vagrant step out after Lou, pan in hand. Realising that this could jeopardise everything, he springs to his feet and follows him, ready to give the man a proper dusting as soon as need be.

[littleninja]

Marcie isn't interested in the activity surrounding the boy. She is, rather, disappointed that her time has been wasted. Human trafficking is of no interest to her. Too many headaches. She turns her attention instead to the woman, and wonders if she can salvage the time spent by lifting those two envelopes. It has been a while since she has been reduced to pickpocketing, or purse snatching, for that matter. She takes a small sip of her drink, and continues to observe the woman.