When it rains, it pours. [Open]

[JOEL FOSTER]

There was a soft, slow tune coming in short bursts from the cracked jute box in the corner. Some pathetic crooning tune about somebody inconsequential and their heart break. ”Don't even know what heart break is” He slurred to himself and anybody who was listening in on his personal dialogue. Slamming the dark glass of his beer bottle down on the bar top a little too hard and the foam started to bubble out of the top quickly. He was forced to lower his mouth back down to the neck of the bottle to slurp noisily to keep from spoiling any drop. He hated to waste anything, most of all alcohol. This would have been shaping up to be a fairly nice night, if it weren't for the flies that seemed to be incessantly buzzing around his head. By flies he meant women, and this group were particularly annoying. He had lost count of the hours a long time ago, he had been in here since it had opened this morning at least...if not earlier if that was even possible. “Please....for the love of all things holy, just leave me the hell alone” Not that he really believed in anything holy anymore. It was more of a figure of speech for him now. She was older, probably in her late forties, but her skin showed some excessive UV damage. She might have been a looker in her younger years, but the decades of smoking combined with habitual drinking had turned her face gaunt. Pair that with sagging skin stuffed into clothing that should have been more fitting for somebody no doubt her granddaughters age she wasn't the least bit appealing. Not to mention her little gaggle of groupies sitting in their booth against the wall were spouting off cat calls and encouragement to their more brazen friend. She had been attempting to buy him drinks, and to wedge herself between him and the bar for the better part of an hour. She didn't seem to be taking the hint, if this was all that this sorry town was able to offer then he was really in for a bad time. He was already the outsider and didn't want to have to prove himself. He just wanted to keep to himself, take care of his business and then just move on. He had only been here a day and a half and already it seemed more like they were just wanting to get inside of his business, put up camp and stay for a good long while.

“Come on good looking, just try me on for size” her weathered, boney old finger reached out to him, stroking down the length of the exposed flesh of his arm with her knuckle. It made him almost gag. She was crossing a line, so long as there had been music to listen to, and beer to be had he had been able to ignore her for the most part. She had been inching closer and closer for awhile now, obviously waiting for him to shove her away or leave. He might have been tempted to go to the bathroom if he didn't think that the old bat would have followed him and trapped him in the stall. Uncomfortable. Chugging down the last of his long neck he grimaced, a low hissing intake of breath resounded from between his teeth. He rose to his feet, his hand fluttering to the sore spot on his ribs as he did so. He towered over the obviously drunk girl. “Take your drunk ass back to the pit that you crawled out of...please” His teeth were grinding together out of pain, and attempting to will her out of existence at the same time. She really was barking up the wrong tree. If only she knew how wrong. Her face crumbled, and she started to spout off obscenities that could have made a sailor turn red with shame. She didn't seem to need to breath, and somehow managed to include lewd comments about herself and her 'hot body' into the same run on triad. He he tried to walk away, he tried to get out of the trap she had set for him, forcing him to keep an uncomfortable angle between her, the bar, and the stool that was welded to the ground. At he was contemplating his predicament, she hoisted her cheap margarita off of the counter and flung it into his face. All he could smell was drug store tequila and feel the bits of sludge dripping down his face. His jaw set, anger flooding up to his ears.

He lifted his fingers to his eyes, and swept off the excess liquid, flinging it out to either side of his body. Did she really just do what he thought that she had? He was offended for two reasons, one, because she had been the one to throw herself at him. Since he chose not to catch some sort of sexually transmitted disease from her, he was the jerk? Two, because she had wasted a perfectly good drink. It wasn't like he was strapped for cash exactly, but his secret stash of savings was starting to dwindle. He didn't spend money whenever he didn't have to and she was forcing him to empty his pockets faster than he had wanted to. He lifted an index finger to tell her off, or to physically remove her from his company. Then she punched him. Stupid broad had watched for his sign of weakness, and whenever she had finally gotten the point that he didn't want her company she had punched him in the ribs. His vision spun out of focus ever so slightly and he was forced to grasp onto the bar top for support. He was wheezing now, and that was a more miserable feeling than whenever he had gotten the wound in the first place. She turned and attempted to 'strut her stuff' back to her group of friends who were now calling him a jerk, a scumbag, and not good enough for her. Sometimes he really hated women. Bitch had to of cracked his already fractured ribs. He felt the need for a doctor, but knew he wouldn't be able explain how he had gotten the injuries. He was going to be out of commission for far longer than would be possible...or he was just going to have to risk it. He felt his eyes close for a moment as he recalled the injuries. Last night had been a whirlwind. His first lead in months and he had gotten away he had never seen the damned barbs coming. The damn thing had gotten the best of him. He had managed to just get out of the way in time, the barb had jutted out of her wrist so quickly...it had broken straight through his shirt and ripped away the flesh on his ribs. Luckily nothing serious had been punctured, and nothing was worse than bruising. It was his ego that was broken, which was better than his ribs by far. He wasn't used to this yet, to the hunting. Sure, he had shot his share of buck and brought home his fair share of fish with ease but this...this was something entirely different. He was still growing accustomed to how this all worked. The proper way to slay each thing was different. There was a feel to the way his arrow would leave it's notch, or the way his finger would itch just before he would pull back the trigger. His targets had never looked mostly human before .Nearly everything that he encountered now, looked human. The one he had been sparring with last night, looked no older than thirteen. He had had it on good authority that she was from the same 'group' as the bloodthirsty succubus that had been the last to know anything about his daughter. He felt like the path was growing colder and colder each and every day. He just wasn't used to the hurting. Deer hardly ever fought back. This girl had been spry, and learned of his lack of skill rather quickly.

The rest...was, just a blur. He still wasn't sure how he had managed to make it back to his motel room in one piece, or how he had managed to make it here at all. He assumed that his train of thought had been that drinking would dull the pain. Leaning over the counter, hand holding his ribcage gingerly, he grabbed a bottle of jack and told the bar keep to put it on her tab. Without second thought, he turned around and limped his way outside. He was really screwed now.

(yes, I reused the register thread. No sense in wasting a post)
[/right]

[EMMA AMNELL]

^{"This is hardly worth fighting for but it’s the little petty shit that I can’t ignore.
With my fist in your face, and your face on the floor..."}

Whoever had chosen the song currently playing on the jute box deserved to be ripped apart in ways that only a hunter could imagine. With a low growl, Emma crossed the floor and headed towards the bar to speak with her bartender. It seemed like EV had become more of a hang out for snot nosed alcoholics then a place for hunters. In fact, Emma stood up on her toes to look around the room; she only knew three of the people in here. Throw in the possibility of maybe one or two hunters she didn’t know and that was an all time low for E.V. It was started to remind her of how few in numbers hunters seemed to be now.

Before Emma could even make it to the bar, it seemed like yet another confrontation was happening. The words just leave me the hell alone reached her, grabbing her attention quickly and she paused to take a better look. As of late that seemed to be all her bar was good for. And if there was one thing she couldn’t stand, it was fighting in her bar. Emma made eye contact with the bartender who just shrugged and went back to wiping down the counters. He was definitely not her usual bartender. Nick had some personal business to take care of so he’d taken a few days off- leaving the place in her care. And the huntress didn’t care so much for running it, as she did owning it. Which was probably why instead of nice sophisticated owner clothes, she was still in her hunter gear. A pair of well-worn dark denim jeans, black fitted t-shirt, and signature onyx leather jacket and boots.

She recognized the man, who seemed to be the source of the confrontation, from having been here since they’d opened- though Emma hadn’t actually talked to him. Emma didn’t like to get involved in what she assumed were civilian bouts of drunken idiocracy, but she didn’t hesitate to push her way right into it if it turned disrespectful or even violent. Before making her way towards them, she sat back and watched the scene unfold, listening to the conversation without appearing interested in the slightest. This was Emma though, always learning the situation and observing everything she could before diving in. And who knew, maybe the situation would resolve itself, though judging from the look on the woman’s face it wouldn’t. When the man rose, Emma noticed the way his hand went to a spot on his ribs- as if injured. Or maybe it was just something the man did, Emma just always looked at things from a hunters perspective. One thing she was concerned about though was the staggering difference in size between the two, and if drinking made either of them violent it could end badly for the woman. Usually Emma wouldn’t have minded because the bitch deserved it from the way she was hoarding around the man, but since Nick wasn’t here to settle the usual disputes that left it up to her.

At his command, Emma relaxed a little but knew enough about this sort of thing to not drop her guard. It didn’t look like he was going to hit the woman; he just looked aggravated with her. It was when the margarita went flying that Emma realized the situation was far more escalated then she had recently perceived. But of course as soon as it happened, she had to fight through people to try to reach the two. It was also then that she watched as the woman punched the spot the man had touched as he’d stood before. Anger immediately flared through her and she decided she’d handle this her way. Instead of making her way over to the man she walked over to the table of idiotic girls. By the time she reached the table, her red hair was wild about her shoulders and her face held an angry scowl.

“Get the hell out of my bar. Now.”

At the seriousness of her tone, a few people looked in their direction but the women didn’t seem to be taking the hint and Emma didn’t have time for this. She reached out and grabbed the main offending woman by the arm and roughly pulled her out of the booth- tossing her behind her on the floor as she did so. She then turned back to the other women and inched closer, but by then they’d gotten the hint and rushed for the door. Only the main offender, now brushing off her outfit and glaring at Emma, seemed to be slow on the uptake. At this point, Emma didn’t even care if they paid their tabs or not. She just wanted them out of E.V.

With a sarcastic roll of her eyes, Emma reached out and this time took the woman by her nasty hair and dragged her to the front door. As soon as they were outside, she forcefully shoved the woman away from her who then proceeded to stumble onto the gravel and spout out something about suing Emma. Like she hadn’t heard that threat before. Emma knelt down next to her and a low whisper came out, the smirk on Emma’s face a show of every bit of confidence that she felt.

“Sue all you want honey. Just don’t be surprised when you disappear in the middle of the night and no one finds your body.”

At the fear in her eyes, Emma stood up and turned to walk back to her bar but was stopped at the sight of the man who’d been the woman’s target. Well that saved her one trip. Once she’d gotten back inside, Emma planned on looking for him just to make sure everything was all right. After all, it’s what Nick would have done. And since he wasn’t here that made it her job. Glancing back at the already retreating woman who now had a large gash in her outfit, Emma couldn’t help but smirk as she called out to her, her voice pleasantly fake.

“And as for my bar, don’t let me see your face in it or next time you’ll leave with more then just a torn skirt.”

A small laugh left her as she crossed over to the man, closing the distance between them. As soon as she neared him though, her face had returned to the somber no-nonsense attitude it usually held. Emma raised her brow at the man and pointed to his chest but didn’t dare touch it.

“You alright there?”

^{"It’ll be a long time coming, Bet you got the message now
‘Cause I was never going, yeah, you’re the one that’s going down."}

[JOEL FOSTER]

He felt warm, only, not in a good way. He felt like his insides were bubbling. It had to be a broken rib, it just had to. “Great” he muttered under his breath, this was exactly what he needed right about now. Stopping in his tracks Joel looked around the room in search of the restrooms. At least there he had a better chance of getting form privacy to take measure of the damage. Outside, there would be onlookers, and he really didn't want people asking questions. He didn't have a good enough of a feel for this town yet to know what sort of places were good for free talk and which ones weren't. Then again, just standing here wasn't ever going to give anybody a good impression of him. It would just invite unwanted glances. Why couldn't people just realize that he wanted to be left well enough alone? He felt his body give way to a rather violent coughing fit and he was forced to double over. Glancing wistfully over to the bar he glanced down at the bottle of jack in his hand and unscrewed the cap before weaving his way over to an empty patch of wall for support. Bringing the bottle straight to his lips he took a long, long drink. Relishing in the fact that it still managed to tingle his throat and ease the pain in his side. Keeping his lips pressed together he eased back against the wall. He felt like a coward for having bee the one to walk away. He knew that he was anything but, that woman had to of been a hundred pounds soaking wet not to mention frail. H was in the best shape of his life, this hunting business was no joke. To be anything less than in tip top shape he would have been dead a hundred times over by now. Sure it was a learning curve, but without strength he would have been nowhere.

This was just a waste of time. How could he be to selfish at a time like this. He was only in town for one reason. He should still be out on the streets, looking for a lead pressing for a job anything. He shouldn't be drinking alone in some dive whenever she was still out there. Alone, and no doubt in far worse condition than he was in. It was a double edged sword, on the one hand he wanted nothing more than to be out looking for her. The trail that would lead him to his daughter was getting colder and colder with every passing day. He owed it to her to spend every waking breath searching for her. To look until his lungs gave out and his body collapsed. Yet, the sorrow from not seeing her shining face every single day made him want to do nothing but relapse. To drink himself into a hole where no light could ever touch him again. The girls were leaving, he could see that from here. The one who had thrown her drink in his face, the same drink that was still slowly making it's down down the underside of his shirt and making a sticky mess out of his chest, was glaring at him the whole time. A slight red headed woman seemed to be having words with a couple of the others before they turned to leave. Margaritaville even had the nerve to lift her fingers to her eyes and then point them at Joel, as if to say that she was watching him. He got this sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that she was going to be standing outside next to his car...or even worse breaking into his car, to wait until he left for the night. Then he never would be rid of her. Just the thought of that happening was enough to make his skin crawl. His fingers absently probed at his side to see if there was any changes to the damage in his ribs. It seemed to hurt more than it did last night, but less than it had this morning. That had to count for something right?

And to snap him out of his self pity was a stunning red head. He could only hope that she wasn't going to nag him, or hit on him, or touch him in any way without permission. Eying her carefully as she approached he waited hesitantly for her to say something. She had to have a reason for coming over. He was having such horrible luck with females tonight he couldn't imagine what it might be. Taking another long drink from the neck of his bottle he watched her lips as she spoke. “You alright there?” He nodded once. What was the real reason that she was asking about him? Looking over her shoulder to the group of women leaving the bar he felt an inward sense of satisfaction that they had gotten kicked out and he hadn't. Not that he had done anything worth getting kicked out for. Using the back of his hand to hide the smirk growing on his lips he wiped off any excess liquid from the sides of his mouth before lowering his hand and returning his gaze to the woman in front of him. Nodding curtly he gave her a good once over as he swallowed the seemingly warm liquid. Her hands looked like they had seen their fair shake of work in her day, and her eyes looked like they had a story to tell. He could tell by her outrageous hair color that she didn't shy away from much...why else would she have that bold color for her hair? He had seen glimpses of her before, he was fairly certain of that at least. He had been in here the other night and seen her or at least her hair around doing something or another. Was she the one that had kicked the offending women out of the bar? If so, he supposed that he owed her a thank you at the very least. The beer here was good, and the whiskey even better he didn't fancy having to look somewhere else for something equivalent.

He looked down at her finger, she was pointing to his ribs. That wasn't a good sign, that meant he was being far too obvious about showing his weak spot. Without thinking, his hand went right back to the spot where she was pointing. Doing his very best to not wince at the touch of his own hand he shrugged like it was nothing. It wasn't like she could possibly care after all, he was nothing but a stranger to her. “Something I can do you for darlin'?”

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[EMMA AMNELL]

^{"This is hardly worth fighting for but it’s the little petty shit that I can’t ignore.
With my fist in your face, and your face on the floor..."}

Pain was nothing to the half-demon huntress, and not just because she healed quickly. The main reason pain meant nothing to her, was that’d she’d experienced it so much as a child she’d become accustomed to it. Some people, mainly Nikolai, believed that she was even addicted to it a little. He was wrong of course, but then he was human- completely human. Emma frowned as she thought back on the childhood memories with animosity. The angels were nothing like her foster parents had told her they were. There were no white and beautiful wings, no shiny golden halo, and definitely no guardian feel to the creatures at all. Some hunters didn’t even believe angles existed- but the ones who did mostly knew the truth about them.

They were evil and deserved to be killed a thousand times over. See, the problem with angels is they don’t give a damn about humanity. Or maybe that wasn’t fair of Emma to say, considering she wasn’t human, well not entirely. Looking back now she couldn’t remember who had stolen her and her brother from their rooms at their foster home. She only knew where she’d ended up. They took her somewhere and tortured her. They tested all sorts of things on her- iron, nearly drowning her in holy water, cutting her up to see how fast she’d heal, the extremes just went on and on. Six years this torture went on. 2191 days of begging- 365 days of begging to be freed, 1826 days of begging to be killed.

Imagine an eight year old begging for death; all the while ‘angels’ were monitoring every cut, bruise, and scrap. Emma hadn’t known it then but now she realized just how afraid of her they were. How afraid they were that she would hone in on her skills and powers and destroy them. Or how close she’d actually gotten to doing just that. Years later, Nick tried to understand how she could have a serious knife wound and still try to fight. As much as she wanted to chalk it up to her demonic heritage, Emma knew the truth. She just didn’t feel pain anymore, at least not like a normal person would.

So when the man shrugged his shoulders, attempting to cover up whatever it was that was bothering him- Emma let him. It was always best to not get involved. It wasn’t her business, and she wasn’t about to pry. If he shrugged it off like it as nothing, then it would be nothing. Emma didn’t believe him, but she had enough respect to nod curtly and let it go. Well, mostly….

“Look- not my business and I don’t want to know, but here’s a piece of advice. Yarrow does wonders for wounds and it’s a natural pain reliever. Do what you want with the information. And the name’s not darlin’, its Emma.”

With a slight shrug of her shoulders, she turned to look back towards the bar. Man, nights like these just seem to crawl on and on. Running this place wasn't near as fun or entertaining as hunting. Not that it was fun, but anything was better then dealing with drunken idiots and settling bar fights.

^{"It’ll be a long time coming, Bet you got the message now
‘Cause I was never going, yeah, you’re the one that’s going down."}