http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/20417609 You get a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. This John fellow spent the better part of his night with a lady friend voicing his discontent with the War and Witches in particular. After she walked out, you didn't think you'd see him again, let alone recognize him, yet here he is. You stare, not sure what to make of him. Evidence of heavy drinking surrounds him. Several empty glasses sit on the counter in front of him, his posture slumped and melancholic. He doesn't seem to have reacted to Rae's declaration; hopefully he either didn't hear or doesn't care. He instead takes another sip of what you assume is beer (you've never been much for alcohol) and continues to sit and stew. "Are you alright, Cleona?" Miranda's voice snaps you out of your thoughts, a concerned hand on your shoulder. "Everyone's already seated." "Oh, sorry. Just zoned out is all," you respond. Indeed, the only ones standing are yourself and Miranda. Rae's gone ahead and attracted a party of young men, talking jovially in a way you haven't seen since the start of the War. Dr. Wackett sits some way down the bar, carefully examining several drinks she's ordered. As she jots down some notes on her clipboard, your gaze slides over to Yetta. Looking very insecure, she stares at an unfamiliar drink as she tries to ignore the smaller group of interested men surrounding her and the Doctor. "Come on, Cleona. There's no reason to stand," Miranda says. [ ] Join Rae and her Rambunctious Men [x] Sit with the Doctor and Yetta [ ] Find a spot for yourself and Miranda [ ] Go solo [ ] Other Nodding at Miranda, you take a seat on Yetta's right, "pushing" some of those interested fellows away. Unsure of what what to order, you get some "XXXX." The place is a bit lively, certainly helped by the entrance of five young women. Rae's talking up a storm in the corner, with a much more composed and reserved Miranda having her own conversations from a seat next to her. Taking a sip of your XXXX (a taste you don't much enjoy), you glance to your left. Right next to you, Yetta's still looking a bit uncomfortable, though she smiles when she notices you. Dr. Wackett is brushing off a young man, more concerned with finishing her notes. "Um, Cleo?" Yetta asks, "What...are we supposed to be doing?" [x] What are you supposed to be doing? - [x] "Drinking, enjoying ourselves, and chatting up cute guys, like the one that's been trying to get your attention, Yetta." [ ] Other. "Oh, you know," you say, "drinking, having a good time...chatting up cute guys like the one you've been shrinking away from since you sat down..." "W-what? Why would he want to chat with me?" You roll your eyes. "You're an attractive young woman, why do you think?" Yetta's cheeks grow a little redder at that statement. "But that's..." "Hey, you don't have to go anywhere you don't want to, Yetta. Still, that doesn't mean you can't make some friends or have a good time. Kick back, relax, get to know some people. It's not every day we get a chance to meet people that aren't busy fighting a war." Yetta stares at her drink for a moment. "I guess you're right." Yetta turns back to where the young man had been, but finds him gone. A quick glance tells you he's moved on to Dr. Wackett. A little depressed, Yetta turns back to her drink. "...like you've worked on some very important stuff, huh?" you hear him saying to the Doctor. "Why, yes! War-winning research, right here in Australia!" she answers eagerly. "Wow, something really important?" "Indeed. Important enough, it might just bring Australia to the forefront of world politics!" "All that and you're a Witch?" he says, overawed. "Well, actually, no. I'm the non-Witch in the group, I'm afraid..." "Oh, that..." The conversation dies off pathetically from there as the young man awkwardly excuses himself, heading for the much more popular Rae. Sighing, Dr. Wackett returns to her clipboard, taking an occasional sip of several of the drinks. Seeing these two of your fellows down so early in the night is getting to you. [x] Wingman time [ ] Try to dislodge some men from Rae [ ] Other This might be your birthday celebration, but you'll be damned if you'll let your companions suffer for it. "Excuse me," you say as you grab the shoulder of a man heading to the jovial group surrounding Rae and Yetta, "but do you have a moment?" "Oh, uh, sure," he responds, startled. You get up and walk a few feet away from Yetta and Dr. Wackett. "Might I ask your name?" "It's George, ma'am," he responds with formality, a little intimidated by you. "Well, George, I can't help but notice you're headed for the throng of people all trying to get a word in edge-wise to my friends." He nods. "You also seem like a stand-up guy," you say. A quick look-over tells you that isn't a complete lie. He nods again. "I might be a bit forward here, but is there any chance I could convince you to perhaps...talk with my other friend here? She's been feeling rather down for the past few weeks and could really use somebody to talk to, hang out with. I can't say it'll go where you might like, but..." You look back at Yetta, looking heart-wrenchingly pitiful as she stirs her drink in silence. George follows your gaze and looks at Yetta, examining her. There's no denying that there's probably some less well-intentioned thoughts going through his head as he does so, but he at least is doing a good job of keeping that process from appearing on his face. "Hey, George, come on!" a fellow calls from much closer to Rae's crowd. George looks at his friend, then glances back at Yetta. "...Sorry, Bill. Maybe later," he answers. "I'll give it a go," he says to you. "Thanks. Don't try anything stupid, though; she has very caring friends," you warn him. "I wouldn't dream of it, ma'am." His hand makes for an unconscious salute, getting halfway there before catching himself. "And if you might be able to convince your friend to talk with my doctor friend here, I'd appreciate it." George nods and takes your place at Yetta's side. Watching from afar, you see surprise come over Yetta's face, followed by an ever-so-slight smile. Making sure your quick conscript is being earnest, you give them a few minutes. Satisfied, you nod to yourself. The sharp sound of breaking glass interrupts you. [x] What the hell was that? [ ] Ignore it [ ] Other. You turn to the source of the noise. On the ground by Rae's group, you spot the shattered remains of a glass strewn over the floor. The group has backed away from a man, startled. Miranda is shying away, but Rae seems to be angrily focused on him. It's John. "What the hell was that for?" "...damned witches...fucking war..." he mumbles, most of it lost under his breath. "I asked you what your problem was," Rae demands. "I've yer problm right here!" he yells with a slur, chucking another glass. "You know what I do to problems?" Rae responds as she calmly dodges the projectile. "I fix them." You start to make your way over, but Dr. Wackett tugs on your shirt. "It's best not to make a scene," she says. "The less attention the military brass pay to our night out, the better." It already looks like a scene to you, though. [ ] Rae's got this, return to what you were doing. [x] Stop Rae; the management will deal with this guy. [ ] Join her [ ] Other You give the Doctor a nod. She's right; this night out might not go over too well, no matter what you say to justify it. It's best not to make it an issue. Glancing at the bartender, you notice he's already talking with some rather strong-looking fellows (How'd they skip out on the service?). Acting quickly, you walk up behind Rae, putting a firm grip on her shoulder. "Don't make a mess of things, Rae. The management can take care of this guy." "Are you saying I can't handle this myself?" she asks accusingly. "No, you idiot. You're a Witch; you could thrash him into next Tuesday, probably. I'm saying don't do anything that could get us in trouble." You hope that's enough to get her to calm down. "...But-" Rae's response is cut short as John leaps at her. You have a split-second to react. [ ] Pull Rae out of the way [ ] Intercept [x] Bat John away [ ] Other Alright, that's not OK. Reacting, you swiftly place yourself in front of Rae. His leap (if you can even call it that) commits him to a path straight to you...and your fist. "Idiot," you curse as you swing your right to his side. You don't put much into the blow, but it's enough to knock him to the side, moaning. He collapses against the side of the bar, clutching his side. Wary of his movements, you keep yourself between him and Rae. Then you see a glint of steel as his hand reaches out of his pocket. [ ] Wrestle it away [ ] Grab a chair [x] Other – Stomp on his wrist Moving quickly, you bolt forward. Taking advantage of your height difference, you put your foot down on the offending hand's wrist. Hard. "Ahhrgh!" he yells in pain, dropping the object in his hand. Predictably, it's a knife. "That's serious stuff, there, John," you say. "Disliking the War is one thing; I'm pretty sure most of us here don't like it either. Threatening the War effort? That's another thing entirely." "Fucking Witches!" he curses. "'The War effort,' she says. What about the men, huh?" "What about them?" "You let 'em die by th' handful while you all sit nice 'n pretty!" [ ] Witches have died too, you know. [ ] You think their deaths don't affect us? [x] Stay silent as you let the management take over. [ ] Other. You don't have to say anything to this man. He's drunk, threatened Rae and yourself, and now he's about to get thrown out. All you do is increase the pressure on his wrist, eliciting a few more cries of pain before the big strong guys you saw pick him up and take him away. You sit back down at the bar, the mood thoroughly ruined. As quiet discussion nervously kicks back up, you stew in your thoughts. Sitting pretty? Such an accusation, even from someone like John, cuts deeply. You hate being privileged. All your life you've rejected the easy pleasure and positions, preferring to earn your way. He's full of complete bullshit with everything else, of course. Witches have had a few deaths already and have to deal with the fact that most people they serve with won't survive the War intact. It's hard for them. Hell, you four are the only survivors of an entire submarine crew. The fact that you're here, enjoying (or trying to) a night on the town is nothing short of a miracle. But could he be right about abuse of position? Would a normal serviceman have been able to sneak out like this? Would they have been welcomed so readily in a bar they'd never been to in a town they'd never even heard of? Would- A glass slides your way, freeing you from your thoughts. "Here, on the house." The bartender gives you a solemn nod. "Thanks," you reply. Whatever it is, it's as unappetizing as your last drink. You drink some anyway. [ ] Call it quits. [x] Fuck it; try to have a good time. [ ] Other. Fuck it. It's your birthday night out. Rae's footing the bill, your friends are here, and you'll be damned if you let it get ruined by something like this. You put on a more cheerful face and take a look around the room. Dr. Wackett and Yetta are where they were earlier, Yetta clinging a little more to that friendly George fellow you flagged down for her. Dr. Wackett seems intent on flipping through her clipboard's pages, but seems strangely half-hearted. Miranda is trying to calm down Rae, who is thoroughly pissed at the proceedings. You can catch a few of her complaints, consisting of various ways to say "My fucking fault, it was her birthday," and "I should have just tackled him." The crowds of men have spread out more evenly, no longer ganging up on Rae. [x] Join Rae and Miranda [ ] Join Dr. Wackett and Yetta [ ] Go Solo [ ] Other You pick up your glass and walk over to Rae and Miranda, not quite sure what to say. Miranda moves a seat over as you approach, insisting you sit between the two. "...Hey," you say to Rae. "Hey," she answers back. You're both silent, trying to think of something to say. Neither of you can find the words, however, and you both simply take another drink of your beer. As the bar's clientele slowly return to their normal level of liveliness and conversation, the two of you say nothing. Occasionally waving down the bartender for another drink, you and Rae simply keep taking an occasional sip as Miranda watches, worried. Finally, you turn to Rae at the same time she turns to you. You both chuckle a little bit, trying to stifle your laughs before they burst out into whole-hearted belly laughs lost in the rumbling background conversations of others. At a loss, Miranda's eyes widen and brow furrows. The two of you slowly stop, smiles on your faces. "Happy Birthday, Cleona. "Thanks, Rae." You clink glasses and chug the rest of your beer.