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Path to Transgression

Lucy's Lair - Hotel & Casino

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a part of Path to Transgression, by Beeps.

Welcome to Lucy's Lair! What's your pleasure?

Beeps holds sovereignty over Lucy's Lair - Hotel & Casino, giving them the ability to make limited changes.

168 readers have been here.

Copyright: The creator of this roleplay has attributed some or all of its content to the following sources:

http://www.roleplaygateway.com/roleplay/sonder

Setting

An extravagant and popular hotel and casino in Las Vegas. Located in the center of action along the Vegas strip. The casino's theme is tastefully sinful decked out in plush velvet in shades of rich red with a touch of Gothic accents.
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Lucy's Lair - Hotel & Casino

Welcome to Lucy's Lair! What's your pleasure?

Minimap

Lucy's Lair - Hotel & Casino is a part of Las Vegas, Nevada.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jettie Greene
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#, as written by Beeps
"What can I get ya' this evening?"

The usual question spilled from her smiling lips as Jettie approached her area of the bar, greeting some new arrivals; a pair of young men and women dressed to the nines in sharp suits and sparkling dresses. Her eyes glanced over each one as they took their turn calling out the names of their liquid desires. Each patron got a nod and a grin before she moved onto the next, all the while mentally taking notes.

A rum and coke for Dreamy Brown Eyes.
A white Russian for Purple Bow Tie.
A Blue Hawaiian for Blue Eye Shadow Overdose... Appropriate.
And a glass of pinot grigio for Doe Eyes.

"Excellent choices. I'll have those right up for you."

Jettie beamed another quick smile before turning away to work. Deftly her hands moved to fetch the glasses that matched the drinks, lining them up before her. Then came the assembly of liquors. She gripped each shiny bottle tightly as she removed them from their place on the massive glass shelf lining the wall behind the counter. Simultaneously she mixed, poured, shook and repeated until she had flawlessly prepared four drinks and even returned the spirits back to the proper homes. Four drinks made to perfection that she was now offering over to the eager patrons.

"Here ya go. Enjoy! And good luck!" Jettie wished them as the men exchanged their beverages for a few crisp dollar bills with instruction to keep the change. She grinned as she slid the tip money into her small black apron. Another drink, another dollar.

Between customers, Jet about had about ten seconds to gaze around the large hall and upon people who were filtering in and out beneath the warm red glow from the giant overhead chandeliers. Sparkle and light bounced in every direction, dancing to the sounds of tinkling slot machines, giddy laughter, mantra chanting gamblers and the rich jazzy music that swept seductively throughout the space. The scene as a whole was hypnotizing, even for someone who had witnessed similar sights nearly every night of their adult life.

Jettie didn't have long to linger on the glitz however. As a bartender in a popular casino there were always thirsts to be quenched and thus drinks to be made. Which suited her just fine. Busy hands kept her out of trouble. Not to mention the drunker the gamblers became, the more generous they tended to grow with their tipping habits; especially if they were on a winning streak. Or if they were convinced she was a good luck charm. Awkward as it sounded, it has happened to just about all the tenders and waitresses.

Speaking of which...

"Good evening Mr. Mancini. The usual tonight?"

Mr. Mancini was a high roller in his late sixties who frequented the Devil's Web. Jettie reminded him of his late daughter and swore he always has a good night at the poker tables when she is the one who makes his Manhattans. Jettie will never complain. He's a sweet old man who's tips single-handedly pay her utility bills each month. He nods and smiles as they exchange the usual nightly banter with an included approval of the casino's new wing before he takes his drink and makes his way through the room.

Jettie watched as the man disappeared into the crowd before glancing at the digital clock on the register. Her shirt was nearly over with about an hour to go. Grinning from this discovery, she covertly adjusted her uniform, a crisp black oxford button down covered by a snug fitting bright red vest and paired with black pants and thankfully sensible black flats. Some of the waitresses had to wear heels. Thank God her feet were hidden behind the bar allowing for nice comfy ballet flats. One of the many perks of being a bartender. Unseen feet.

Grinning at her own silent and lame jest, she hurried back to work giving out charming smiles and beverages and racking up an apron full of green backs.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Damien O'Dwyer Character Portrait: Jettie Greene
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#, as written by conor
Damien watched as the girl quickly answered his summons and leaned in to hear his request. Initially she seemed thrown off by him, his accent as usual. He wondered if he should repeat what he asked for. Would that seem rude, or maybe it would be to presumptuous and he might offend her by assuming a mis-understanding. More importantly why did he even care. He normally wasn't the kind of person who really took into account someones perceived opinion of him. If they wanted him to repeat they would ask him. Something felt odd with this girl though.

Damien shrugged it off and attributed it to a pretty face and the feeling of heavy drinking for the fourth night in a row messing with his head. By the time he had snapped back she was just nodding to him and walking away. The surface of the bar was smooth and clean. Well looked after. The whole casino seemed clean and well kept. Normally a casino wouldn't be on his list of watering holes. They didn't seem to have the right mixture of awful music, putrid smells and 'redneck' patrons that he loved to hate. Talk about high self esteem.

Truth was Damien couldn't feel closer to home in a crappy dive bar. He missed the past, an awful thing for a being with practical immortality. The bright lights and chauvinistic las vegas strip just wasn't him, but somehow he ended up here, drinking away his nights and sleeping through the days. The clash of steel and the smell of sulfur where the things he longed for, but those days were gone. He hadn't been given a soldier in almost thirty years. The last guy he got was some investment banker. Damien thought he did a great job making him happy, but it turns out an economic recession wasn't good for business and the guy skydived off of a fifty foot building.

So here he was in Vegas. He decided to at least try one of the casinos. Nothing screamed America quite like a city designed to make money off of the people it kept. In it's defence, at least the place looked classy doing it. He twisted his head around coinciding with the woman coming back holding a glass of whiskey and what appeared to be, well, ice balls. He listened with a subtle joy as her cheeks went rosey red desperately trying to apologise. Considering how central balls were to the theme of the apology Damien surprised himself by suppressing any laughter he was feeling internally.

By the time she had made up a second drink he had tried thinking of something witty to say but he met her eyes head on and for a second he was speechless. A familiar feeling swept over him, one he knew well. "But it couldn't be, could it?" Damien thought to himself. He had never been assigned to a female before. The reasons where rather obvious. He hesitantly brushed it off half attributing it to low blood-alcohol levels which needed to be fixed right away. However a part of him didn't want to neglect it and he decided the best way to know was to spend time with her. Sometimes it took a few seconds to recognise a new ward, others could take days. He knew he had to find out regardless. "Well, we could very well have met before. After all, you are a bartender and I am an Irishman with a clichéd love of alcohol. Or maybe that's your subtle way of saying you wish to know me more". Damien let out a wickedly sly smile, and with a raised eyebrow he gazed intently at the young bartender.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Damien O'Dwyer Character Portrait: Jettie Greene
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#, as written by Beeps
"I don't usually a' ramble so much..." That was a bit of a lie, but she had to at least try and defend herself from this man's jests. Were they jests? Jettie wasn't exactly sure. He was hard to read and there was something about him that threw her way of her game. She chalked it up to being tired after a long shift. That was it, surely. Handsome faces smiled at her every night, why was this one any different? She didn't know the answer but she was certainly not going to make a fool of herself again.

Mustering up the charm that she showcased for every other patron, she gave the stranger a smile before turning her back on him. Irish whiskey... Irish whiskey... Jettie wasn't much of a whiskey drinker but she did serve it frequently enough to know of a few imports. Though never a specific request for a strong Irish from an actual man from Ireland. Perhaps if she chose the perfect drink for him then she might somehow redeem herself.

Green eyes scanned over the wall of glass bottled liquors that sparkled before her. Under the red hues emitting their soft glow from the track lighting they all took on a crimson appearance. A particular one caught her attention. A top shelf whiskey that she couldn't even ever recall pouring for anyone else in her entire employment at Lucy's.

Standing on the tips of her toes, she reached up and gingerly brought down the heavy bottle. The label read 'Tullamore Dew - The Legendary Irish Whiskey'. Hmm... Perhaps that would do. Turning she removed a fresh low ball tumbler and filled it with a hearty amount. As she twisted her wrist to finish the pour and set the bottle beside the glass, an overwhelming desire to taste it washed over her.

However she tried to steer clear of drinking on the job. Not that it was frowned upon, plenty of the other bartenders done so and even had little competitions to see who could get the most free drinks in a night. It's just that Jettie was not the biggest drinker. One or two drinks of even just a fruity cocktail could send her flying into that happy buzzed state. Too many and she was certain that she would not even be able to hold a liquor bottle, much less pour, serve and actually do it correctly. It would be a mess.

Thus she lifted the glass and placed it before him with another signature charming smile to accompany it. She then rested her palms on the bar, slightly leaning on the edge to watch his reaction. She found herself really wanting to him to approve of her selection. When he didn't give an immediate response, she lifted one brow, her grin spreading in a bit of nervous anxiety, "Well?"

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Damien O'Dwyer Character Portrait: Jettie Greene
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#, as written by Beeps
"Tullamore Dew." Jettie glanced down at the bottle for reference as she answered him with satisfied smile. He had seemed to enjoy it but she found herself wishing she would have served him Jameson instead. "It says it's legendary," she added, pointing to the label as she bounced one shoulder up into a shrug.

When the handsome newcomer commented on him being her only customer, she nervously glanced down the bar. Jettie had been so wrapped up in serving him, she had not even paid attention to any of the other thirsty guests. Luckily the other two bartenders, Rob and Andrea, seemed to be happily picking up the slack. She figured it was to gain more tips, but when the two exchanged giddy glances and Rob shot an encouraging wink in her direction, Jettie knew otherwise.

Her coworkers, who were definitely sleeping together, were continuously teasing her about men. At least once a week Andrea would claim that she found the perfect match for Jettie; all of which Jettie would refuse to even meet. Not that she distrusted Andrea's taste in men, Rob was nice looking and charming, it was just that she simply was not interested in meeting anyone at the moment. Between managing costuming gigs, making clothes at home and bar tending, she could not even imagine where she'd fit in awkward blind dates and worrying about whether or not she was wearing sexy underwear. Life was so much easier when you could grab any pair from the drawer without a second thought.

Shooting Rob a playful eye roll, she looked back at the customer who seemed to have just gained a personal bar tender for the night. Or at least until her shift ended. "Jettie. Jettie Greene," she confessed, near kicking herself for giving over her last name to a perfect stranger. Hurriedly, she continued, "I sew.. Like costume design and fashion design."

When he referred to Lucy's Lair as a cesspit, she grinned and replied in playful defense, "Hey, It's not that bad here... Are you accustomed to taking your whiskey somewhere a bit more classy? Should I have used the fine crystal for your drink? Or a golden chalice perhaps?" Her tone was teasing as she lifted one eyebrow in inquiry.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Damien O'Dwyer Character Portrait: Jettie Greene
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#, as written by Beeps
"It's fine." Jettie responded dismissively, giving him a pass. "My name is weird. My mom was obsessed with Joan Jett in the 80's..." she confessed shaking her head causing the bouncy waves to flounce around her face, "When she found out she was pregnant there was no escaping it. Boy or girl, Jett was going to be incorporated somehow. It's kinda embarrassing. And you are right, we yanks do tend to come up with some strange ones. Cars, fruit, directions..."

Grinning, she gripped the bottle again, pouring him another drink to replace what he'd already nearly downed, all the while wondering if Irishmen really did like to drink as much as they are stereo typed. As she done so, she tried to sneak a better look at him. There was still that small ping of familiarity about him that was nipping at her memory yet nothing was sticking. She would chalk it up to him just having one of those common, but honestly he did not have one of the every day Joe type. Though scruffy at first glance there was also a hint of danger and mystery about him. It only drove her intrigue further to find out just who this man was.

Turning her wrist, she straightened the bottle just before it hit the too-full mark of the glass. "I have a degree in fashion design. Not that that helps much here. You have to know someone to even get your foot in the door to the more high profile shows but I'm working on," As sat the bottle back down she lifted her eyes back to meet his, "... Getting to know people."

Breaking their stare, she glanced down the bar to ensure her coworkers were keeping up without her before continuing on the conversation, "It keeps the lights on and pays the rent in the mean time. Gamblers can be generous tippers. More so when they're winning. Or drunk..." She glanced towards his drink pointedly, bearing a smirk, "It's not a bad gig."

His jesting about casino's state of class bought him a genuine laugh from the blonde. She reached up and tucked away a sunny curl behind one ear as she gave him a smile to follow up the soft laughter. "You have my sincere apologies, Sir. At least you have a personal tender...", she jokingly responded. "Next time I'll make sure you receive only the finest Lucy's has to offer... If there is a next time that is..."

Jettie cast her gaze downward to avoid his eyes in hopes to hide another blush that threatened to grace her cheeks at any moment. She had basically just hinted that she hoped there would in fact be a next time. In attempts to redirection his thoughts from her words, she quickly asked, "So what about you? What embarrassing name did you mom give you and what horrible job have you been stuck with?"

Characters Present

Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Damien O'Dwyer Character Portrait: Jettie Greene
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#, as written by Beeps
"I've heard that some foreigners find our weirdness to be quite charming..." A smile had barely left Jettie's glossy lips for the entirety of the time that she had been interacting with this stranger. From his witty, or seemingly witty, responses and comments, to the way he so casually threw a wink in her direction; there was something about this man. She was even being flirty. Or what she hoped was coming off as flirty and not strange and awkward.

"I'm sure there are plenty of people who would like to get to know you." Did he mean him? Does he want to get to know her? The thought of that had the heat spiking in her cheeks and chest all over again.

"I'm not trying to get you drunk..." she replied in defense, "If you really are Irish then I'm sure it would take more than two small glasses of whiskey to accomplish that task." The later was spoken almost accusingly but still holding a tone of playful teasing. "And you should tip me based on how attentive I am to your needs..."

Yep, she was definitely flirting.

How was this even happening? She sucked at flirting. She had complimented the man's facial hair earlier for crying out loud! What had gotten into her? She was sober as a judge so she couldn't blame the out of character behavior on alcohol. Maybe it was just him. Allowing herself to be a tad more adventurous with a stranger that she was likely to never see again could be why she was feeling more exuberant that normal.

"You are not obliged, but it would be nice... It's not everyday I get to serve someone both the diamond and the golden chalice." Jettie was trapped in his gaze again. It brought on a surge of energy that rushed through her, filling her with nervous excitement. Forcing herself to look away, she pulled her eyes down to his now empty glass as he went on to tell his name and occupation. Should she fill it again?

"Damian," she repeated thoughtfully glancing up from the empty glass dilemma to meet his eyes once again. "What do you write? Wait; let me guess..." A playful grin spread across her lips again before she puckered to them to one side putting thought into her guess. "I'm going to go with... Science fiction novels. Like spaceships and aliens?"

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Damien O'Dwyer Character Portrait: Jettie Greene Character Portrait: Michael
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#, as written by Beeps
Michael dug the heel of his palms into his eyes as he hunched over the small metal desk. Bring the heels around to massage his temples he looked to the clock on the wall with bloodshot eyes. Almost 11:00. The Angel would be stuck in this hell hole until well after three AM. He wasn't sure if the amount of cocaine that he just snorted would be enough to see him through it. If it didn't there was always more where it came from.

Rising, he stood at full height to stretch out inside the tiny office. He should probably get back on the casino floor. Not that anyone would come looking for him; unless something went wrong. Then they'd come running. On an average night like tonight, managing the waitstaff of a bustling casino was a cake walk. He considered himself to be decent manager. He was well liked by most of the people under him and the customer's were not that hard to please either. Give them some free booze and an extra spin on slots and most would walk away cheesin'.

Exiting the small office, Michael stepped out into the florescent lit employee break room. Painted lockers lined the far wall, a long bench creating a barrier between them and a group of fold out tables and chairs for employees to sit down. It was the same as any other break room really. His chocolaty brown eyes scanned the empty room landing on one locker in particular. The third from the end of the line, it's only distinguishing feature was the bright pink combination lock that looped through the slots.

Jettie's locker.

It belonged to his ward, Jettie Greene, He had managed to land a job as her superior shortly after she had started the bar tending job at the casino. He hadn't exactly been aiming to work directly with her, but somehow it had worked out that way. God's will maybe... Who the fuck knew? Well... Besides Him...

After all this time Michael actually liked it this way. Jettie knew him. Liked him. At least he thinks that she likes him. Is friendly anyway. And possibly even trusts him. He's been working on it. For centuries, he hasn't gotten this close to a ward. He was taking it slow, trying not to get too close. He did not want to make that mistake again.

Dragging his eyes from the locker, he made his way across the room and out into an empty hallway. A short elevator ride later, he stepping out onto the busy ground floor of the casino. He straighten his suit jacket and even his tie before mingling through the crowd, casting smiles in every direction as he made his way toward the centrally located circular bar that Jettie was stationed at tonight.

It took Michael a moment to spot her and when he did, a frown pulled at his lips as he became frozen to the wildly patterned carpet.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Damien O'Dwyer Character Portrait: Jettie Greene Character Portrait: Michael
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#, as written by Beeps
Michael stood glaring from a distance as he watched the pair at the bar. Jettie was flirting with the damn demon, actually flirting with that... that scum. Humans were so frustrating. How could she? How could his ward just... Even his thoughts were at a loss for words as he steamed over what was taking place.

Finally his feet caught up to the anger raging inside him. Quickly he crossed the casino floor and let himself behind the bar. He paid no mind to the other tenders as they cast him curious confused glances. His seething eyes were only focused on one thing as he came up beside Jettie. She did not even realize he was standing next to her. It made him sick.

"Jettie..." Michael had had intentions of keeping his voice low and steady but seeing her smile at that demon was almost more than he could stand. The cocaine was certainly not helping his swing in mood either. "Jettie. Your shift is over. You can leave early..."

She looked over at him almost like she was waking from a dream. Her once flirty smile pulled downward into an almost pouty frown before recovering into something forced. "Okay. Let me just..." She started to turn back to speak to the demon as if to tell him bye or get his number or who the hell knew.

"Now, Jettie." His voice was more forceful this time, perhaps too much so. Jettie jerked her head back to him with an almost scared look wrinkling across her delicate features. He hated seeing her like that... But what choice did he have?

She was stumbling over her words now, "I, um, okay..."

Michael could tell he had dampered whatever she was hoping to take place. And he did not mind one bit. As she fumbled at putting away a whiskey bottle, he finally turned his glare to the demon who was perched so casually at the bar. Michael let him know by his aggitated look alone that he knew exactly what he was and hopefully was emitting enough hate and testosterone that the beast would flee and never lay eyes on his ward again. Likely the Angel would not be so lucky.