Tommy Jones is always here. Squandering his immortality hustling drugs and playing Pool... Tonight is no different, exceot that he isnt high yet.

Theres buisness to attend to with a clear head tonight. So he is downstairs, away from the loud dancefloor and the girls who trade needles of brown for one little kiss...

Tommy is playing pool, by himself at the moment... He keeps looking at his watch beetween shots. checking the door as if hes expecting someone...

A short, slim young woman slinks into the downstairs bar, hands shoved in the pockets of her cropped, black leather jacket.  She looks to be in her early-mid twenties, with long black hair styled into a cascade of frizzy layers.  An unlit cigarette dangles from her mouth.  She hangs around the door for a few moment, apparently taking stock of the place.

Tommy looks up as the other kindred enters... He recognizes her of course. He has probably supplied her and her groupies half the heroin or blow they've ever done in this city...

Tommy will offer her a pool cue from halfway across the room. ' Join me, oh princess of angst.' He both offers and teases..

It could be taken as more of plea... Save me from boredom while i wait for that damn Nossie to come and pay me...

She rolls her eyes at the "princess of angst" comment, but shrugs her shoulders and takes the pool cue anyway.  There's nothing better to do tonight...least not yet, anyways.  Lord knows she could be -- should be -- practicing for the gig she has in a few nights.  But the music just ain't comin' to her tonight.

She crosses the floor, the wide studded black belt that hangs lopsidedly on her hips jangling ever so slightly.  She chews the end of the cigarette, not really tasting the bitter tobacco.  She twirls the cue before bending over and lining up a shot.  She flicks the cue, hitting the white ball squarely and sending a solid into the corner pocket.  

--Last edited by Tara532 on 2008-04-15 21:42:52 --

Tommy steps back to let her find her second shot.. absently chalking his cue.

'So did you come all the way out here just looking for my stimulating company or are you running away from your groupies over at Thorns again?'

She shrugs again, lines up the shot, and scratches.

"I've never been to this place, believe it o' no," she says with the slight lilt of her Gaelic accent.  "Figured I'd give it a shot.  I don' have anythin' better t' do."  She looks over at the bar with a slight longing look.  "Damn, what I wouldn' give fer a Guinness now.  Haven' had one fer...twenty-one year now, I think."

"An' by the way, what's this I been hearin' 'bout some ghost hunters comin' round."

'Oh i hear ya..' He comments about the beer.

He leans over the table again, taking a shot at a corner pocket.

'Ghost hunters.. yeah, That show; Haunted New England. Their in town looking into whatever was scaring the shit out of people on the slummy subway.. Causing a bit of trouble for the uh.. Lepers down below. '

"Probably the 'lepers' that caused the whole problem in the first place."  She gives another of her customary shrugs.  "No skin off o' my teeth though.

"So what're you waitin' aroun' fer?"

'The Shug Monkey is supposed to be sending me my money... I turned over some Dumb Childe to the Warlocks for them..'

He grins, proud of this for whatever reason... Probably because he sold a hefty amount of heroin in the process...

'He should have been here about fifteen minutes ago..'

"So how's the party upstairs," she nods, gesturing to the open-air dance floor on the level above.  "Anythin' worth checkin' out there?"

'Not your kind of music id guess... But i think i saw a few of the Dead punks wander up there earlier. Teddy and Gordon usually chill here...'

He assumes she knows them, they frequent Thorns as well...

Tommy takes another shot. ' Im waitin for Shug though, but i wont be insulted if you leave me to my lonesome.'

He says, as if she actually cares.

"Well, like I said, ain't much goin' around tonight.  Say..." her voice lowers a little.  "You wouldn'...you know...have anythin' on ye?  I can't promise I can pay, but call it an IOU."

Tommy's eyes narrow a bit. Shes always paid.. eventually...

'Of course.. ' He decides. 'Ill spot you tonight... im getting a big payoff from the shug anyway..'

He misses his next shot and knocks the 8 ball right into a corner pocket.. He sighs and lays down his cue.

He sets a small plastic package, small enough to fit the palm of his hand on his coaster. Enough of his top of the line heroin to keep her happy for a night or two...

He will place his drink ontop of it and slide it across the table to her...

'Enjoy, i know where to find you to collect.'

Not a threat, just more of a reminder that he will be paid..

"Thanks," she says, taking the drink and pretending to sip as she slips the package into an inner pocket of her jacket.  "So...what's th' other news of the night?"

'Did you show up at the uh... Big Company meeting this month?..'

He asks, almost discreet since a group of people walked by looking for a pool table...

'Word has it were all pretty fucked. Big Boss man has a some little prosti-tot who knew all our names and says were all going to die horribly...'

Thats the big gossip lately. The princes little oracle who knew names kindred havent spoken for hundreds of years... and wrote them all in blood on the cathedral floor.

"I don't get meself involved with politics.  From what I've learned, if y' keep yer head low maybe maybe th' shit won' hit y' when they start flingin' it."

Tommy Nods agreement.

'But it may be hard to keep your head down when the crusaders are running around to chop it off... Noone can leave either it looks like... we lost our Primmie last week when he tried to skip town..'

"Well, when I see 'em I'll start worryin' about 'em.  Fer now I have enough t' fret about without boggies in the closet."

'oh yeah?  What kind of worries do you have these nights? '

He almost asks her if punk is dead again, but shed probably punch his fangs out...