To Soothe A Soul

[Naelona Ezel]

One might think the sound of the garbage trucks going through outside would be enough to wake her up. Or maybe the alarm clock going off three times, three times which she hit snooze in succession until it finally stopped, but that didn't do the trick either. Even the noisy argument off the street that echoed up into the loft didn't quite do it. It was the AC kicking in that finally woke her up. It was such a softer, more subtle sound than the other noises that frequented the city, but damn it she could never sleep through it.

Yawning the woman stretched and flopped over onto her stomach, half sprawled out upon the bed she occupied, sprawled out like a squirmy three-year-old. With a huff she tried blowing a lock of black hair from her face, but it only fell back to where it'd been, pulling more hair down into her face with it. Leave it up to gravity to screw things up.

Twenty minutes later finally mustered the effort to sit up, looking across from her was a small table. A lamp occupied the one corner, along with some pens, a pencil or two, stapler, a small stack of sticky-notes. Underneath the desk on that side was a small file cabinet, locked as usual. Across the desk was an array of files, folders and papers. Oodles of papers, with yellow sticky-notes dotted across them complete with arrows pointing to other corresponding papers across the desk. On the wall behind it, more sticky-notes, a few numbers, and more due-dates and 'missing persons' notes than she cared to think about.

She really needed a different job.

Not that she couldn't cut it with the one she had, she did.. marginally. Details were her thing.. just not when it came to tracking down let alone finding people. Heck, she had a hard enough time finding inanimate things, let alone the alive and constantly on the move ones. About now she didn't care what it was she supposedly did in some past life, this definitely wasn't it. With another groan she shuffled to her feet and out the door. Time go get her priorities in order, put first things first. Get her brain going and start feeling productive.

Time to go downstairs and steal a drink.

[Ryan Cardwell]

Downstairs in what was commonly referred to as a basement, albeit one that was bigger than alot of people's stores, stood a man. The man was uncommonly tall, towering over the others that were busy sweeping, mopping, and otherwise cleaning the large room. His hair was shaggy and black as pitch, scattered across his head as though he'd just crawled out of bed. His clothing was just as dark as his hair; a black t-shirt stretched taught across his torso, black jeans and black boots. The only air of lightness came from the silver ring in his ear and the odd eyes that seemed to be almost a golden color.

At the moment he was standing behind the long counter that served as the bar, a glass in one hand and the rag he was cleaning it with in the other. Several dozen others were already cleaned and stacked in front of him, the vast array of glasses showing that he'd had a busy night. But then that was nothing new, every night was a busy night. This 'basement' was one of the hottest nightclubs in Chicago, despite its relative newness in comparison with some of the others. The owner, one Tristan Blackthorne, was in no small part responsible for that, his talent at business just as good as his talent at mixing drinks and knowing just which songs to blast out of the massive speakers that lined the far wall near the stage. It didn't help that his dashing good looks kept he young girls flocking back night after night in the hopes that they'd catch one of the coveted gestures he sometimes bestowed upon the lucky ones. Apparently the fact that he wasn't on the open market only increased his allure.

Eventually the men ceased their work, stowed their equipment, and filed out the door that led up to the street. They were regulars, Tris had hired them soon after opening his doors, finding that cleaning up after the people that flocked in was not a task he relished doing, despite it being quite necessary. It wasn't a bad arrangement, he took in more in one night than they charged in a month. Besides he was allowed more time to take care of the important stuff, like sleeping. When one was up all night serving drinks and getting hit on, it kinda wore them out. Thank god for blinds.

Up above he heard the extremely faint sound of the air conditioner kicking on, and he smiled in spite of himself. That'll wake her up for sure His girl/freeloader could sleep through a train wreck, but as soon as the slightest noise was made she was up and awake. He'd always found it to be a peculiar, and most amusing, trait of hers. Chuckling to himself he set the glass down, picking up her favorite one and giving it a quick rubdown. He knew it would be only a matter of a few minutes before she would be down here, plopped on a stool before him and demanding a drink. Sometimes he swore that if he didn't let her have them for free, she's make up at least half his daily revenue.