The Den

Once Baron gave the order, she followed it and sat down across from Baron. "Well I was born into this world a werewolf. Never really met a wolf I didn't like, until my sister turned on me, my fur is the same as my hair, only darker, I am very fast, and agile. I am a successful hunter." she said as she paused to take a drink. "I am a very happy drunk, however it takes a lot to get me drunk." she added, sitting back, crossing one leg over the other. "And yourself?" she asked, now leaning forward, drinking every now and then.

"Your parents, who where they?" he asked.

For being born one of them, she didn't seem well versed. And she had chosen to identify herself by the human's word for their kind. Identifying her lineage might help in ascertaining the lack of her... education? Though she hadn't seemed to have know that 'slawn' wasn't a word, so he was beginning to suspect she hadn't received much of an education at all, human or otherwise. He was less concerned about the latter though than he was the former.

"Ah my parents, Jack and Eva Mcgee. They were great hunters and leaders. No one in the pack ever stepped out of line, dad had killed a few pack members for plotting against him. I guess I took the passive side, since I would cut members out of the pack, instead of killing them" she said, taking another drink, "I was only taught to use violence against prey or another pack. I never wanted to fight, but I did when I had to" she added, as she finished the drink. "That is very good stuff" she said.

Eli tipped the bottle, feeling like drinking from a fountain of youth as the fine liquor poured down his throat, right until he heard a snarky voice coming from the left. This mocking, condescending voice made the very synapses of his brain flinch. His furious annoyance rendered him oblivious as to what the voice actually said. Lost in his own frustration, he squeezed his grip of the bottle even harder up until he finally caught up with the situation around him.

"...ight as well be drinking shit for all you know."

He turned his head to the left, and there sat a despicable punk sporting a shit-eating grin. Eli would not let the comments of these simpletons pass, no matter how hard he wished he could spit right now. He could not stand the smell of wet dog. It was repulsive. It was absolutely revolting.
He put down the bottle, wiped his chin with his left forearm and spoke with a dull, monotonous and low voice.

"You know, you sure bark a lot for a dog handler."

Julienne had hardly been condescending or mocking, so much as curious. The woman lacked a solid filter between thought and action, but there had been nothing hostile about her inquiry. There was however quite a deal of hostility about her now, given the reaction she received for attempting to engage in discussion with the man.

"And you talk a lot for a corpse," Julienne spit out.

She picked her own drink up and left to go find someone less repulsively unsociable to engage in discussion with.

There should have been no surprise when Richard walked into the Den, reaching into his pocket to retrieve his badge and show it to everyone present.

"You should all be aware that there's been a murder. Surprise, surprise. It was right at your doorstep, so I'd be startled if anyone didn't know by now. All the yellow tape should have been a good indicator, too. We're not arresting anyone, we just need to ask you all some questions. Where's Baron?"

Leon trailed in behind Richard, fingers wrapped around the nail. It remained firmly within its leather housing, but his grip seemed to tighten around it. His hand stung.

He glanced at a few of the bars patrons, nose twitching slightly as he took in their scent. He cupped his nose within his free hand, attempting to calm its movement. As he continued watching the pack, his eyes fell on things they shouldn't. The door, its knob, the windows and the various exits.

"Yeah, what Choncey said."

Baron frowned as the police trailed into his establishment. Their presence turned more than a few heads, and a few patrons made it a point to finish off their drinks to leave early for the night. More than a few of the people who visited The Den where faces that didn't want to be crossing words with the police.

No one seemed to be jumping at talking to the police and those who didn't leave turned back to their drinks and ignored the police entirely.

"We'll talk more later," Baron told Blaze.

Even without anyone aiding the police in their search, it wouldn't take them long to locate him in his usual seat by the window. He had a handful of arrests under his belt, though they had never been able to pin much on him over the years. A handful of misdemeanors, some assault and battery charges, and a few counts of obstructing justice. He had seem some prison time for the latter, but they had only been able to nail him with two years. With his position at the head of the Bloodstone Pack, and his pack members accumulating a far wider range of criminal offenses over the years, the police where always keeping half an eye on his goings.

It was enough to sow some unpleasantness between him and the police, but with far larger concerns going on in the city - including the spread of organized crime among the Crescent Sky pack - Baron's goings on where typically of a far lower priority.

Jesse moved a hand to Blaze's elbow as he nodded his head to guide her away from the table.

"I'm going to check on Re'Altarm," he said to Baron.

The police being in here made him uneasy, and he wanted to check up on her now that the matter of Blaze was taken care of.

Baron only nodded briefly as he withdrew a pack of cigarette's from his pocket. He propped one foot up against the seat of another chair as he lit a cigarette up and took a drag of it and waited for the police to find their way to his table.

The doors opened again, and walking in came yet another detective. She laid a hand on Leon's cheek and pushed him to the side in a rude and unprofessional greeting. "Morning, mouthbreather," Jeanne joked, flashing her badge. She nudged Richard. "Gave the little speech?"

Richard arched a brow. "Yes."

"Not very responsive, mm? You did it wrong."

The scar-faced man scoffed at his senior. How did he get in a department with a bunch of morons?

"I'm going to question Baron. You ain't the one for 'im, Choncey" said Jeanne, walking ahead of him over to Baron's table. She threw out the ends of her long coat behind her before sitting herself down. "Hallo, there. I don't think we've actually formally met, but you've got quite the reputation around the office. I'm Jeanne Bonheur. I'm happy to finally meet you, Baron. So, now." Jeanne gave him a tight smile, raising up her eyebrows. "Is there anything you can tell me about last night? Some strange murder you got in your alley, huh?"

Leon pushed his cheek against her hand, smiling lightly. "Finally, someone shows up without a broom up their ass". His eyes flicked towards the door as a small white rat trailed in behind the officer.

He spectated it for a moment longer, watching it sneak behind the counter top. He looked back towards the officer as she began speaking. He let out a quiet laugh; Looked like his nickname for Dick would catch on quicker than he thought. He made his way towards her, remaining silent. For the first time in a long time, the childish look left his face as he gazed upon Baron.

He didn't dare to speak. He had done enough to hurt his cause the last time he encountered the man.

The hard realization of undeath and finding yourself in a less-than-hospitable city has a tendency to get on someones nerves big time. This reflected in his once savvy small-talk skills being replaced by a void of damp air. Eli took another drink, trying to rack up some sass, but his body just seemed to jump straight to the hangover phase, which did not help his case of post-death crankiness.
And then without warning, the law enters the room.
The law, in this case, was a fancy lad dressed in a jacket, shouting about murder and yellow tape. Not soon after another strapping lawman enters the room, reinforcing the statement the first one was giving. As they walked around, Eli felt uneasy since he was not sure if being undead was a criminal offense in this armpit of Terra, and tried to keep his head down. On the other hand the authorities could get him out of this planet, back to the Old Country, if his ID was still valid. The thought of this suddenly materialized the central problem Eli was having trouble to solve. Eli leaned over the counter to speak to the bartender under his breath.

"What year is it?"

"I don't know anything about it," Baron replied simply. "Other than you've been running my business off all night."

A dead body in an alley wasn't too unusual of an occurrence in Vargeras, but the presence of the the police all over the street outside his bar was deterring some of his more unsavory patrons. They had a fraction of their usual crowd tonight.

"Are you going to be in here long? Or should I just close up for the night, because I'm not going to have any customers left soon."

"I'll say. What with a murderer killing people right at your doorstep. What a red welcoming mat you'll have," Jeanne said to Baron, gazing at him intently. "We'll be here a while. At least, until we get the information we want. I just want to know if any of you saw or heard anything out of the ordinary. Or, maybe, if you knew anyone who had a good reason to leave a murder on your territory. I saw the body, Baron. Whoever did that looked like they wanted to make a statement."

Jeanne leaned back in her chair, propping back an elbow. She never broke her eyes away from Baron's face. "I have nothing against werekind. If you help me, I can help you. I imagine you don't want to land yourself back in jail for something like this, eh? I know none of your boys did this." She leaned forward, her hands on the table. Her smile faded.

"I need to know if you can help me figure out who did."

Leon turned, watching as another mouse made its way into the bar. He gave Baron a glance before scanning the rest of the scene. His gaze settled on Eli. "You don't have a tail and you don't smell like wet dog, whatcha doing hangin out in a kennel?"

Eli turned his head towards the cop behind him. He responded in his now trademark monotonous and low voice.

"I do what most people are doing in a kennel like this; getting a hair of the dog."

Eli was delighted that his sense of humor was still intact and decided to store this quip for use later on. He took another swig and let out a dry smile.

Leon tugged at a chair, pulling it from beneath the table and taking a seat. "Looks like you forgot to moisturize" He pointed at the man's chin as he eased into the chair.

Talk about being thrown in at the deep end.

It was safe to say that The Den really wasn’t her kind of place. She’d dislike it even if it wasn’t full of those she judged to be little less than responsible, more rational monsters. The scent and smoke offended her. It tickled at her throat and threatened to make her cough, but instead, she just coughed self-importantly and squinted through the haze, looking for someone to make use of. Preferably someone who didn’t look like they’d snap her in half, though, most of them probably could. That fact did little for her comfort.

To put on a brave face and try not to look too intimidated was all that she could do. She approached her chosen interviewee. A woman, around her age, short hair. El might grow to regret that decision as she became more visible the closer she got; the woman simply looked like trouble.

“Good morning.” She started. Bad start.

"Well it's not my fault the jackasses who put me in my untimely tomb forgot to water me every year for gods know how long."
He put the bottle of jack down while his smile....dried down.

"If you know it wasn't us, then why do I need to worry about prison?" Baron asked pointedly. "I told you I don't know anything about it, so do you have anymore questions, or are you just going to bother me and my customers for the fun of it?"

Meanwhile Elodie wasn't fairing any better. Julienne didn't even look up from her drink as the officer approached her.

"Piss off," she said over her drink.

Jeanne tapped her fingers on the table. Her jaw moved like she was chewing. "I don't have any evidence, but I know. So you heard nothing last night? No screaming? Are you sure there's no packs that rival yours that would do this? Here."

From a pocket, Jeanne brought out a small digital camera. It was a bit old, had scuffs and small indents here and there, but it was functioning. She turned it on and flipped through the pictures. In a moment she stopped, turning the camera to Baron. A crisp face shot, used with the flash. The torn out throat was gruesomely included in the picture, all but the spine gone.

"Do you recognize this man? His name was Emeric Michael."

"Nothing," Baron answered.

As she presented the picture for him, he leaned forward to get a look at the camera before sitting back in his chair again.

"I know who he is. He's a regular here," he answered. "And that doesn't look like a wolf attack to me. Too precise. There's only so many ways you can bite someone. I should know something about it."

He was clearly not amused at the police's presence in his bar, but for the sake of Jesse and the woman in the cellar he didn't want to give them an excuse to go poking around the place.

As Ivan stepped into the bar, he frowned at the fact that the cop had evidently beat him to it. Giving Baron a wave and an apologetic shrug aimed in the woman's direction, Ivan slid into a booth, close enough to eavesdrop but far enough away to - hopefully - seem not suspicious.

His brooding worsened.

Jeanne bit her lip, turning the camera back around to face her. She had to agree. She'd seen a lot of maulings. This didn't look like one.

"Well, Baron. I hope that you let us know if you find whatever's done this. Thank you for your cooperation," she said with a bright smile. "We'll be questioning a while longer in case any of your customers had seen or heard anything, and then we'll move out of here."

"Make yourself at home," Baron replied.

He took another long drag of his cigarette as his eyes shifted to the other officers in his bar that where currently engaged with a number of his customers.

The sooner they finished and left the better...

Sliding out of her seat, Jeanne took a pause, lifting her head. Her eyes narrowed, shifting around the Den.

"... what in the world," she mumbled, a frown drawn upon her face. "What was that?"

"Raccoons have been getting into the cellar," Baron replied dryly. "Going to go report me to the health department now?"

Fortunately the din of the bar meant that most people likely hadn't heard whatever had caught Jeanne and Baron's ear.

Jeanne let out a chuckle. "I don't think the raccoons would be their main concern," she replied, shoving her hands in her pockets. She brought up the UI on her bionic lens, though there was no telling that she was unless one were to look her directly, intently, in the eye.

She moved toward the cellar, checking the scent trails around it. "I'm sure you wouldn't mind if I poked around," she told Baron.

"Do you have a warrant?" Baron asked bluntly.

The woman hovered her hand above the doorknob, fingers twitching. "I can get one," she warned him, looking over her shoulder at Baron. Her gaze wasn't as friendly as it had been before.

Baron stood from his chair, slapping a hand against the edge of the door as he met her eyes.

"Then you go do that," he told her. "And stop harassing me and my customers."

Even so petite a woman next to the Bloodstone pack leader, Jeanne stood firmly in place as they locked eyes. "Expect me in a few minutes," she growled.

She didn't make it two steps from the cellar door, before the gig was up and a woman's shriek split the air - emanating from the cellar.

Jeanne's eyes moved to the cellar, then to the man barring her path. "Or get out of the way now. Move, Baron."

Her hand came to the gun at her belt, right inside of her coat.