Butch Flowers's Story

Agent Florida walks into the bar. His blue armor was dirty, making it seem as if he had just been in a fight in mud. He slowly sauntered over to a bar stool and plopped down in it. He removed his magnum from his holster and set it on the table, its silver coating dull. The agent put his face in his hands and sighed.

Unceremoniously plopping herself onto a seat at the bar was a lanky woman with messy blue hair, covered in a fair amount of tattoos and piercings. "Hm.. a drink or two can't hurt." She mused to herself as she seemed to be thinking hard on this decision. "Four hours till take of? Yeah I'll be fine." She muttered mindlessly as she reached across and over the bar to grab the nearest tender. "Hey you!" Manners were obviously not in this woman's repertoire. "Give me a gin fizz, would ya?" She asked, ordering a drink.

Hold your breath! The air is toxic. It’s liquid and will fill your lungs, turning into acid. That acid will eat through your lungs and then drip, drip, drip, drip through your abdomen, eating away your stomach…

She could almost feel it, and as Bug pushed her way into the bar, her hands clamped over her stomach, her lips blue, her cheeks purple, she gasped for breath. Fresh. Clean. Gambit’s air!

Obviously, she knew the air wasn’t actually toxic. She knew it wasn’t liquid and it wasn’t going to eat through her lungs. But after that handful of random nameless pills she’d accepted from the man in the alley earlier, what she knew to be true was not exactly what made sense… and what made sense wasn’t always what was true.

Looking around the room with wide red-rimmed eyes, Bug imagined that every being in the room had antennae. She wanted to ‘boing’ them. Without hesitation, she moved up behind Jakob. Reaching a hand up over his head, she moved her fingers as if she was plucking imaginary strings.

“Boing,” she whispered, and then moved off to take a seat at the counter near Butch Flowers.

Jakob shifted his seating position at the bar. He had been stationary in the same position for a while, and the sagging in the seat did mess up his finger positioning on the guitar.

The android continued to provide background music for the bar's atmosphere, it's all the android wanted in life at the moment. That, and the scotch he kept sipping from.

The Captain/Special Agent notices this odd behavior and taps her on the shoulder. "Ma'am, are you okay?" he asks in his worried voice.

The Demon watches intently, but keeps his distance.

The patterns of the woodgrain in the countertop were interesting as hell. Bug tilted her head back and forth as she watched them. She swore they were moving, flowing like rivers… Rivers of pine or oak or whatever the damned thing was made of. Fascinating. Her fingers traced them lightly as she ignored everyone else in the roo--

When the man tapped her on the shoulder, Bug jumped and spun to look at him sternly. "Don't... Touch..." she said slowly, as if educating a child.

Florida jerked his hand away. "Sorry, ma'am. I was just asking if everything is alright. You seem pretty... out there," he stated, looking at her as if scanning her.