what the cat dragged in {OPEN}

[Randel Anthony]

Randel walked into a bar. This wasn’t the beginning of a joke, but it was the end of a long working day.

“Bourbon on the rocks.” It was his first time at this particular bar, and he hoped they made it well. He had confidence, though. It wasn’t easy screwing up a bourbon.

Randel hadn’t been much of a social butterfly at his old location, but he was still feeling the isolation here in Pilot Ridge. It was a bit depressing, really. Everyone he’d known had jumped ship; either sank or swam, and had new lives apart from him – other than a few, like Renee. And he was too old to make new friends. Any urge to meet and greet had long since fizzled out…if it was ever there in the first place.

Ah, well; his job provided enough mingling. An occupation in the force guaranteed that he’d be seeing a lot of faces, and not all of them kind. In fact, it demanded that he come face to face with poverty, death, and abuse. Randel had seen the worst of the worst, yet he suffered nothing more than an occasional nightmare. He supposed it would catch up to him soon.

Once the bourbon was set in front of him, he got to work on his contents, hunched over the counter and occasionally scribbling at a pad of paper.

[Eros Nau]

Eros' first day in Pilot Ridge had been a rough one. Going through the paperwork, running to the training field, actually releasing quite a bit of energy, and then running back to her completely unpacked apartment had been exhausting. So, instead of cuddling with Sylph in her hammock and passing out, she'd decided to do a further check of the downtown area and had stumbled upon this little bar. She didn't expect much attention, wearing her usual dark skinny jeans, a beige turtleneck, and the military green peacoat, and walked into the bar with little to no real expectations. She didn't have her usual messenger bag hanging off her shoulder, just a brown leather men's wallet in her back pocket.

There was one other figure sitting at the bar as she headed toward it, but paid him no mind. She took a seat, making sure there were bar stools in between them, and looked at the taps the bar had to offer. She was taken by surprise at how quickly the bartender approached her, right as she was putting a cigarette to her lips. She took her time, lighting the cigarette, inhaling, and exhaling once before extracting what her sister had always called a cancer stick and making eye contact with the bartender.

"Erm...Magic Hat 9, in the bottle if you have it. And an ashtray please." After receiving the requested adult beverage and ashtray, she took a swig, shivered and ignored the slight pain in her teeth from the cold, and continued puffing away on her cigarette, deciding to wait for the bottle to warm up a bit before taking another sip.

[Randel Anthony]

Randel didn’t notice the girl at first. He was busy assessing the contents of his bourbon, and letting its fiery taste settle on his tongue. He wondered a lot of times why people bothered with alcohol when each swallow was followed by a wince.

When he did look over at Eros, it was with a double take. She was familiar. And not in that rote sense of the word: like maybe he’d seen someone with a face like hers, or maybe he’d seen her around, walking across campus, or across the road…no, she was familiar in a special way.

A clink of glass.
That cigarette brushing her lips.
Her eyes glancing over through a sheet of hair.

Randel had received many visions of people he’d soon meet, and it had never failed him; the thing was, his precognition was something of a partner. Some people battled with their powers – not him. The things it showed him were often indicators, highlighting to him people and places of interest, that he would soon cross paths with, that were important, that he’d do well to look into. Many a case he’d solved by heeding its warnings. Cheating? Maybe. He preferred to think of it as using every tool at his disposal.

Now there was the issue of striking up a conversation. Women often got the wrong idea when he told them he’d ‘seen them in their dreams.’

“Excuse me,” he began, politely, “You, uh…you go to school around here?”

[Eros Nau]

Eros finished her cigarette and immediately lit up a new one, thinking about what was to come. She'd gotten some interesting information about training possibilities, and that of a gym in town that she could continue her martial arts training. She was ready to get that started, at least. As for college, she had no idea. At the moment she was just collecting general studies classes, getting her basics under her belt. She wondered what she would do from there.

She'd always been interested in the law and chasing criminals, and even though she disliked her father's harsh views, she did have to admit that the idea of a good guy, or girl, in her case, versus bad guy was appealing. Maybe she'd go into criminal justice. Or put her enjoyment of chemistry into use and go into forensics. That could be fun. She took another swig of her beer, shivering again. It had warmed up some, but not enough to be entirely enjoyable.

She noticed the man as he approached her and stared at him wide-eyed before answering, clearly taken aback. "Greenview Community College. And I'm a trainee at Hammel." She went back to her cigarette, trying to just brush him off, but clearly on edge. She knew what happened when drunk, older men approached young girls in bars. She didn't have a feeling that he was after her specifically though, and didn't tense to fight. Yet.

[Randel Anthony]

The name ‘Hammel’ set off big bright alarm bells in his head. Not that he’d ever been off track, but he took this as proof of the right direction. It was a very personal place for him. A good many things, milestones in his life, had been laid here: his training, his knowledge, his friends, his parents’ death.

Randel nodded. He stroked his chin. “Right,” he said. Then he held up his hand. “I’m sorry for interrupting. I’m not here to ruin your night, I promise; I’m past that age.” Randel threw in a smile, hoping it’d put her at ease a little…a pretty girl like that probably got a lot of unwanted attention, and he hated coming off that way. “Just here for business.”

It was hard piecing things together at first. Though his visions offered him important glimpses of the future, he wasn’t always sure as to how they helped him. This young lady here was one of those. Randel was often forced to work his way around it – or to lie. Not very big lies, mind you; just enough to get them to keep talking.

“I’ve actually been looking for Hammel trainers.”

[Eros Nau]

The man intrigued her, and after the original shock of being approached, she found herself somewhat at ease. She took another sip of her beer, finished her cigarette, and immediately began another one, taking sips of her beer more often. It was finally room temperature, and warm enough for her to truly enjoy.

She nodded, calming down a little bit, though wondering why a man would be in a bar for what he termed business. He was either looking for someone specific or lying about why he was there. "No problem. I'm just not used to being approached by strangers." She puffed a little more on her cigarette, then turned, facing him. He though she didn't have control of her power.

"Well, I have enough control that I could be a trainer there if I so desired - but I agreed to continue training in hopes of further developing my powers - I have no need to gain more control over myself." She picked up the cigarette again, breathing in deeply before flicking her ash into the tray provided.

[Randel Anthony]

Randel approached criminals better than he approached beautiful women. It had taken him years to perfect the art – which, to him, meant no stuttering, or blushing or fumbling. (Hardly an art).

But it needed to be done. “That’ll do, that’ll do,” he said. A trainer would have been more helpful; they were usually intimately affiliated with the goings-on of Hammel, and they came into contact with a variation of people. Still, he wouldn’t have seen Eros’s face if she had nothing to offer. It was worth pursuing. Randel sat down next to her – he didn’t care for leaning on the counter.

“I remember Hammel,” he said. “I’m a graduate myself. Got a degree in criminal justice, and now look at me – a working member of society.”

Randel did feel a certain kinship towards those working at or studying under Hammel; the place harbored so many memories for him, he couldn’t help but imagine her walking down the same halls, studying the same texts, living in the same dorms. It was nostalgic. He was surprised that he missed that time, in a way.

“So what can you do, if you don’t mind me asking, Miss…?”

[sorry for the late u-u;;]

[Eros Nau]

The man's lack of ease at talking to her gave Eros a sense of comfort. Surely, if he were a jerk, desiring her only for superficial desires, he would be smoother, his facade would be more put together. She took another sip of her beer, put her cigarette out in the ashtray, and turned to face him.

He was interesting - a degree in Criminal Justice - he definitely was interested in her for something other than anything crude, and she was interested in Criminal Justice as well. Another sip of her beer before she spoke. She wanted to ask what he meant by 'that'll do,' but figured she wasn't supposed to have heard it.

"Eros. I create and manipulate fire. And am considering a degree in Criminal Justice as well." She paused, taking another sip, and, noticing her beer was almost finished, went ahead and ordered another. She was started to feel warm and tingly, a feeling she didn't enjoy often, but enjoyed it greatly when she did.

"What did you say your name was?"

[Randel Anthony]

Eros. That was a weird name. Greek, he thought.

He held out his hand. “Randel Anthony.”

“Fire, huh? I would’ve liked that. Always seemed so flashy…and it makes you really popular at parties, too. Could burn the place down, though – that almost happened,” he went on. He remembered very distinctly a friend of the same power – a reckless and immature fellow, who liked to impress people with as big a stream of fire as he could get it. Randel himself never did well in the spotlight. Precognition was more of a subtle thing, anyway. Took a long time to come to fruition, too…exactly a week, from his perspective.

Randel was also pleased to hear that she was considering a field in criminal justice. “It’s a good field. You might just end up like me…drinking and disillusioned.”

He smiled; then, after a pause, he glanced down at his glass. “I’ve got precognition. That’s seeing the future, in layman terms.” He put his hands together. “And…you’re probably wondering what I’m talking to you for.”

[Eros Nau]

Eros shook his hand and nodded.

"I more prefer to keep to myself, especially where my abilities are concerned, but there are always cases in which someone wants to see what you can really do - put you through your paces, if you will." She managed a small chuckle, thinking of instances in which the same was done to her.

"I don't see myself as much of a drinker, at least not often, and I'm hoping to get a Bachelor's in Forensic Chemistry eventually - an assosciate's in Criminal Justice just seems like a natural first step." Her interest piqued whenever he mentioned precognition and his starting up a conversation with her in the same sentence. Clearly, a conversation was not the only thing he wanted.

"Precognition? That's interesting - but sounds difficult to master." She looked down, giving herself a moment after understanding the implications of what he had said. Whenever she looked up, her eyes were somewhat larger, curious. "I have been wondering..."

[Randel Anthony]

Randel’s eyebrows raised towards his brow. He’d always been a drinker, ever since he’d been legally allowed to. Thankfully, he’d never crossed any lines with the stuff.

“It’s one of the easier ones, actually,” he mused. “Nothing to burn. No pain, really, besides the occasional headache. I guess what you’ve got to watch out about it, though, is what it shows you.” A bad vision could be very psychologically damaging. There was a reason most people couldn’t see the future – even glimpses or blinks into it might drive a man insane. After all, Randel was haunted with the thought he might eventually foresee his death. He had found death in his visions before. “You never know what’ll come up.”

But he wouldn’t burden her with philosophy. “Not all of it’s bad, though.” Randel shrugged, then offered her a smile. “Sometimes…uh, people show up.”

He pulled a crinkled piece of paper from one of his coat pockets. The note obviously looked well-used, and written some time ago. Once he’d unraveled it, Eros might see some writing scratched between the lines: dark hair, green eyes. Jeans. Brown turtleneck. Green coat. Cigarette. Pretty.

Randel handed it to her. “This sound like you?” he asked.

[Eros Nau]

Eros nodded. As interesting as precognition sounded, she would never want to know the future. Especially with her mother so sick...seeing the outcomes of her mother's illness would be too painful to observe.

"Yeah, I can understand the unpredictability...not sure if I could handle it. The future can be a scary thing." She shivered slightly, taking another sip of her beer to try and disguise the feeling of dis ease she suddenly felt. Was he about to tell her he thought he'd seen her mother die? She tried not to think about it.

She nodded again, trying to get her mind off of the negative things she could think of. Of course powers could be good as well as bad. The bad worried her though. She couldn't shake that feeling now. Whenever he handed her the piece of paper, she looked it over, her brows furrowed. This was odd.

"Well...aside from the eye color, it does." She looked up, making sure she pointedly made eye contact, letting him see that her eyes were grey not green, although it was a common mistake - her eye color often looked as though it changed color depending on what she wore.

"What do you think it means? This is weird...that you can see someone before you meet them."

[Randel Anthony]

Her whittling cigarette was making him crave the stuff again. He’d smoked briefly during his college years, but even that was enough: it had been nearly a decade since he’d stopped but he still occasionally craved the burning taste of nicotine.

Randel blinked and looked down at his paper, then narrowed his eyes in a sort of pinch and peered closely at her eyes. Then he let out an affirmative mutter and crossed out the ‘green’, as if it mattered after the fact.

“It’s not odd to me,” he replied, though he didn’t look up right away, as he was writing in ‘gray’ above the line. “But I know it must be to other people I’ve met. Especially if they know nothing about metas, you know? It really freaks some of them out…so sometimes I just don’t tell them.” He looked up with a small smile. “But I tend to inform anyone around Hammel – they’ve been exposed to this sort of stuff, and they’re more likely to believe me, too. I don’t have to talk ‘em down.”

As to her first question (which he addressed retroactively), Randel only shrugged. “Well, that’s the thing. It could be a lot of things. Most of ‘em happen to revolve around my job, though. So…”

Randel hoped he wouldn’t come off as straightforward. “I’m not asking as an officer. You’ve no obligation.” He paused, eyebrows raised, to look in her face, until she’d given him some indication that she understood. “But I was hoping we could stay in touch, in case something comes up.”

And he’d every reason to believe that something would.