Drinking the Night away(OPEN)

[Conor Clancy]

He looked like your typical, average person, somewhat shaggy chocolate brown hair and plain brown eyes, his right one however was permanently shut, with a thin, jagged silver scar running through it. He wore a black sweater with a crisp white collared t-shirt underneath, giving him a somewhat preppy look. The preppy look continued to his black slacks, and his shiny dress shoes. However, in a room full of normal riffraff, such as vampires, demons, and the occasional silver-haired halfbreed, it wasn't hard to see that this young man didn't belong there.

Conor Clancy sat at the bar nursing a glass filled to the brim of whiskey. He'd had a few rough days as the full moon was coming closer, it would be here in a night or two, and for some reason, the still-young werewolf had a tendency to black out then wake up covered in blood the next morning.

He shuddered to think what happened, and he wanted to stop it desperately but he didn't know how. He knew he had been bitten 3 years ago by a wolf..but..that's all he really could remember, after that, every full moon had been a blur. The glazed brown gaze flipped open a book and words jumped out of the page at him. Words like..WEREWOLF and FULL MOON. Conor's eyes widened and he flipped to that particular section..and started reading, taking great gulps of the irish whiskey that he had ordered. "..It can't be..." He muttered. "It's impossible, there's no way in Hell I'm that..kind of thing.." He seemed disgusted as he shoved the book in a bag he had brought with him. The bag itself was a plain black messeger bag with a wolf howling at the moon imprinted on it.

Conor shook his booze-dulled mind, unknowing of the danger he was putting himself in. This place wasn't usually too full, but tonight it was brimming so his lycan scent (Hopefully) would be masked but you never know. An irritated growl escaped him and he slammed his whiskey. "Gimme another" He said to the barkeep, another glass of whiskey was given to him and Conor looked around.

[Ophelia Marshall]

Ophelia had met and survived meeting a demon. She had been torturing a human when all of a sudden a demon had come into the room. Ophelia promplty killed the human, drugged the demon and began to torture the demon. Only because said Thing was a demon it had come free from its shackles. And it really wasn't so happy to have been tortured. Ophelia was lucky to survive the attack and not have to go to plan Z, Cyanide pill. And now she needed to have a drink!

Because Ophelia had no legal I.D. from legally being declared dead she couldn't go order alcohol at a shop. She could however go to a seedy bar that cared no way in particular who it sold to as long as it made money. She found herself at the Broken Barrel. It was a fitting name. Armed with a wad of cash Ophelia moved towards the bar. "Long island iced tea." she ordered. She would first start off with a little drink as Ophelia was thirsty, then she would move on to a vodka tonic and then shots.

She found herself sitting next to a very cute messy brown haired lad. Except for his right eye, which was closed. "What happened to your eye?" Ophelia said so bluntly. The bar tender was working on mixing her drink and even he was shocked by her question. She laid her small black purse on the counter. It had a wad of cash, stolen. A small knife and a small gun. In her boot she had a larger gun and in the other, a larger knife.

Wearing This

[Conor Clancy]

Humans could be so rude sometimes, as the redheaded slayer walked in, Conor's nose twitched at the scent, she had the scent of blood from demons and vampires. His eyes narrowed at this and the fact she asked about his eye in such a blunt way that it flared his temper, a growl escaping him for a moment. He didn't like to speak unless he had to, or wanted to. To be perfectly honest, Conor wasn't a social person, it was a surprise in itself he was even at a bar.

"Accident" He grunted out, thick irish accent rolling off his tongue gently. After he spoke, he took a gulp of the whiskey, his single eye narrowed. Conor hadn't had a good life. He rubbed his right eye self-conciously, and looked over at the slayer. "You smell of demon blood" He growled. "You are a slayer, aren't you?" He spoke quietly, as to not draw attention to himself and the girl that had spoken to him.

[Ophelia Marshall]

"An accident?" Ophelia laughed as she waited for her drink. "Some accident." She of course being Ophelia wanted juicy details. Just the other night she had poked out both of a demons eyes with knives, but his eyes had worked just fine. "How did it happen? Did someone throw a sharp knife at you? Did you fall on a sharp pointed branch?" Ophelia wanted juicy delicious details!

"Why does everyone I meet keep calling me a slayer?" Ophelia asked. She had no idea what a slayer was. She preferred to call herself a serial killer or a mass murderer. Not that she would tell someone she wasn't currently trying to kill. The bar tender came back and put Ophelia's drink on a napkin before her. She tasted a sip. "Perfect," she said to herself and sipped away.

"How do you know I smell of demon blood?" she whispered. She turned to face him, crossing her legs on the stool. She wasn't worried about her gun or knife being exposed, they were safely tucked in each boot, concealed.

[Conor Clancy]

"How about you stop shooting questions at me?" Conor growled "And I don't remember what happened.." He took a sip of the whiskey "I don't know half of what happens to me most of the time" He frowned deeply at Ophelia, brown gaze dull with the drink he had consumed. "as for your last question, I can't answer it as many in this bar would kill me before I even got a chance to speak" He said shortly, and looked away from her, gaze narrowed.

[Ophelia Marshall]

"A blackout drunk, huh?" Ophelia said to herself. She really didn't expect Mr. I Hate Questions to answer that question. Of course there was nothing wrong about being a blackout drunk. If you wanted to do it, all the power to you. It sounded fun but Ophelia could never do that. If she did, she would probably black out, kill someone, then walk through a murder scene with the cops clearing the place then be detained as a witness, etc... Not a great idea for a serial killer to become a blackout drunk.

"Why?" she whispered as her eyes glanced around the bar. "Are you gay?" she asked surprised. "What a shame!" she added. "I wanted to take you home and fuck you till you stopped breathing." Ophelia finished her drink, raised her two fingers and waited for the bartender to come over. "Vodka tonic." She ordered. If this guy was gay then there was no reason for her to sit next to him anymore.