17927/Mystical Firsts

Mystical Firsts
Date of Scene:	13 May 2024
Location:	Bar With No Doors
Synopsis:	The Bar With No Doors finds Camille, where she meets Johnny. Drinks and conversation happen.
Cast of Characters:	Camille Russo, Johnny Blaze

---

Camille Russo has posed:
Camille wasn't quite sure how she'd gotten here. One minute she'd been exploring her new neighborhood in Harlem, and the next she'd touched a brick in the alleyway and phased through the wall into a tiki bar that made the protective warding on her clothing tingle for a second. Other magic, then, a little protective in itself. Security? Camille doesn't mind it. She slides into one of the bar seats with ease, crossing herself with a startle as a snake in a rum bottle opens its mouth and speaks. "What'll you have, toots?"

She blinks wide-eyed at the snake for a minute, then shakes her head. This place would fit right in at home, she thinks to herself, and what comes out of her mouth is "Un Sazerac, monsieur."

Johnny Blaze has posed:
Johnny was very familiar with the Bar With No Name. It was a good place to meet other Riders, other entities, on more-or-less neutral ground. So since he was back in New York it only made sense to stop in, see what's what. Zarathos itched, which usually means there was some major bad juju going down and that was one of the only things that made both Rider and demon happy. Well, happy-ish. It was complicated. He left the shotgun back on the bike but the chain was wrapped around his torso. He just hoped he wasn't going to need it. He appeared in a puff of very warm air that only stank slightly on sulfur and sidled up to the bar to talk to the barkeep, maybe have a drink or twelve.

Camille Russo has posed:
The drink that floated to her looked right, and the first sip she took had her eyes fluttering closed with a pleased hum as the taste of herbsaint touched her tongue, followed by the rye whiskey and bitters with a hint of sugar. She could almost hear the faint strains of a trombone and trumpet, a hint of raucous street jazz and a sense of a wafting sweet smell she associated with childhood Saturdays going to the market. Stopping for a bit of entertainment with a hot, fresh beignet not quite burning the tips of her tiny fingers. Powdered sugar dusting her cheeks and shirt as she rushed to take those first, perfect bites before waiting for it to cool enough to finish. "Most excellent," she murmured as she set the glass in front of her. "I do believe you're my favorite bartender in - well. Wherever we happen to be located."

A pinch of sulfur hitting her nose had her looking around, suddenly wary. Her eyes settled on the man talking to the barkeep that she'd accidentally interrupted with her compliment. "My apologies for the interruption. First drink is on me."

Johnny Blaze has posed:
Johnny looked over at the woman who just offered him a free drink. She was dripping in countermagic and wards, which nudged her up a point or two on Johnny's "Who's A Moron?" mental list. "Obliged." he said, his accent an odd blending of New Yorker and New Mexico. He then looked down at her drink. "Sazerac, huh? Classy drink." he said with amusement. Despite the perfectly reasonable temperature here in the Bar, he was dressed in black riding leathers alongside his Guns and Roses T-shirt and didn't seem to be off-put at all by all the leather. But the oddest thing was the chain wrapped around his torso, from shoulder to opposite hip. Not the usual sort of fashion accessory middle-aged men tended to be into.

Camille Russo has posed:
"Reminds me of home," she says with a smile. Her accent isn't heavy, but the hints of a more uppercrust French blend with the syrupy-slow cadence of the bayou in an unmistakable blend that is - if not overtly New Orleans - then distinctly Louisiana. "I wouldn't normally order it this far north, but then this isn't your normal sort of bar, is it?" The leathers weren't that odd. If she was on a bike, she wasn't taking more than her jacket and helmet off to enjoy a drink. The chain was decidedly odd, but the coin in her pocket heated as she thought about asking. Dangerous, then. Not to her, specifically, but asking was likely to get her tangled up in the sort of things that had led to the demise of her mother and grandparents. Not today, then, when she was enjoying her first day off in a while.

Johnny Blaze has posed:
Johnny nodded. "Whiskey." he told her and the barkeep at the same time. He was a simple man with simple tastes. He then made a gesture to the snake keeping the bar, an occult gesture of respect and thanks. "What brings you to the Bar, Miss?" he asked Camille, pleasantly enough, with just a little bit of rasp in his voice. "Can be a little rough." he said.

Camille Russo has posed:
"I was exploring the neighborhood," Camille admitted. "Found the right wardrobe, I suppose." She hadn't really enjoyed the series she was referencing, but it was frequently useful as a pop culture reference for explaining weird things. The gesture of respect didn't go unnoticed, and her faced eased from a guarded neutrality to something a little more relaxed. She took another long sip of her drink, turning it slightly as she chased the herbsaint the glass had been coated with. Names had power, but firsts were generally fine. As were the shortened forms. "M'name's Camille. I'm new in town."

Johnny Blaze has posed:
"Johnny." he said by way of a reply. Introductions done, he took his shot of whiskey and tossed it back like it was water. He then politely tapped his shotglass on the counter, which cued the barkeep to refill it for him. "Tricky things, wardrobes. You stumbled in here, you're either profoundly unlucky or a practicitioner." he commented. "Don't strike me as the unlucky type." he added after a moment.

Camille Russo has posed:
"Aren't we all a little unlucky sometimes?" Camille mused. She twisted, hand reaching into her small purse for her ever-present ink, today a vibrant pink that reminded her of Camellia bushes in full bloom. She procured a napkin, then drew a small sigil that represented durability to her in the middle. Nothing that would upset the wards she'd felt as she entered, she hoped, but enough to get a bit of her ability across. "Please attempt to tear the napkin, Monsieur Johnny."

Johnny Blaze has posed:
Johnny looked at the napkin and laughed. "Honey, I believe you." he said. "You don't want me to touch that." he said, then downed and tapped his latest shot. But sometimes the kids needed a little reminder that there was more in Heaven and Earth than could be dreamed of. So he extended out one finger, which _caught fire_ and boiled down to the skeletal bone of his finger. That skeletal flaming finger touched her warding sigil and the entire thing, ward and all, caught fire. Johnny then withdrew his now-dowsed finger, looking like any other mortal digit, back to his space and out of hers. "It's a nice ward." he pointed out. "Looked almost Sumerian, but I get those really old ones confused all the time." he said apologetically. "Buy you a fresh drink?" he asked.

Camille Russo has posed:
She shrugged as the napkin caught fire and burned out, the ashes still warm on the untouched countertop. "There are more things in Heaven and Hell, Camille," she muttered to herself. She was impressed with the containment, curious enough to ask if it was Johnny or wards on the bar itself. She suspected wards, but precise, targeted fire sounded extremely useful. "Is the precision yourself or the nature of the bar?" She drained her drink and nodded. "Yes, please. A Pimm's Cup." Better to go low-proof if today was going to be full of surprises.

Johnny Blaze has posed:
"Got no real desire to burn the bar down. Might take a little more effort than I really want to spend." he said by way of an answer. Zarathos, if he took him off the chain, could do the job modulo whoever might be stopping by for a drink. One never knew, after all. He then looked over to the barkeep, who looked disapprovingly at the Hell-burned ashes that were once her sigil of durability. Johnny just returned the look blankly, then after a long moment of almost looking Johnny directly in the eye he shuffled off to make Camille's requested drink. But to mollify the barkeep and thus the staff of the Bar With No Name, he used his empty shotglass to cover the ashes.

Camille Russo has posed:
"Ouais, that was a fierce bit of evil eye you just stared into the face of," Camille remarked. Impressive, but possibly stupid. She wasn't willing to make that call with someone she'd just met, not with the dangerous aura he exuded. Cocky, certainly. Her Pimm's Cup floated into place, settling with a small thump. "I make these at home during the summers. Nothing more refreshing than a glass, of this, fresh lemonade and a splash of 7-up or Sprite mixed together with some Pimm's No. 1. Have you ever had one?"

Johnny Blaze has posed:
"Can't say that I have. Little highbrow for my tastes." he said with a small chuckle. "Grew up drinkin' Bud and Jack." he admitted. "Some of the places I've been, you wouldn't believe what they use in their drinks." he said. "Yours sounds a lot safer. Calmer, too." he pointed out. "Barkeep's just a little upset that I left something that could be used in spellcraft sitting on his bar like it ain't no big deal." he said. "Be nice to your barkeeps." he cautioned.

Camille Russo has posed:
His shotglass was still on the counter, and she could do a bit of cleaning on the ashes. Camille's index finger swiped through the condensation on her glass and drew a circle around shot glass and contained ashes before knocking on the bar's lacquered top with two knuckles. The circle disappeared along with the ashes and few remaining drops of whiskey, and the shot glass sat dry and clean as if it'd never been used. She flipped it over, carefully pouring a small measure of her yet-untouched drink into it and sliding it in front of the older man. "Have a taste, then. Never too old to try a bit of something new."

Johnny Blaze has posed:
Johnny couldn't help it. He laughed, the picked up his shotglass, sniffed it, then sipped at it. "Huh." he said as he let the flavors wash over his tongue before he swallowed them down. "Interesting." he said, tossing the rest of the shot back. "Can't say it's gonna become my new regular but it's ... different from what I'm used to." Which was usually whatever was on sale when he felt like being a little more human.

Camille Russo has posed:
"You can say it's sweet and fancypants, I won't take offense." Camille said with a laugh. Her accent had gotten a touch more pronounced. She wasn't drunk, and wasn't particularly tipsy, but she was definitely feeling knocking back half her Sazerac so quickly. "It's difficult to find sometimes, but I'll make a trip and ration out bottles of it if I need to so I can have my summer drink. A mint julep is overrated unless I'm at brunch." Mm, brunch. That reminded her. "Could I get an order of the spinach dip?" The barkeep gave her a look, but nodded, and she turned her chair to face Johnny a little better as her stomach gave a light rumble.

Johnny Blaze has posed:
Johnny tastefully ignored her stomach rumble, and when the barkeep freed up he tapped his shotglass to get some more whiskey. "It is and it is, but don't cost nothin' to be polite to a pretty woman at the bar." he pointed out. Dammit, Johnny, Roxanne was over a decade in the ground. You were allowed to live a little, maybe even think about moving on. "Moreso when she found her own way to the Bar and is sensibly protected."

Camille Russo has posed:
Camille Russo says, "Don't cost nothin to start out polite, sure," she agreed, biting her lip at the compliments. Sweet, but dangerous, she reminded herself. But a contact, perhaps, at least for now. Maybe a friend, eventually. The spinach dip floated over and settled into place and she pushed it between them with a nod. "Feel free. And... you can see my protection? Magic sight, then?""

Johnny Blaze has posed:
He just smiled at her question and deliberately didn't answer her question. At least not right away. "Where'd you learn how to do wards like that? Looks to me like ... family?" he asked, guessing but suspecting he was onto something. Lots of magic running through Louisiana families, especially the more insular ones. Kept the old ways alive, in some respects. Not a lot of power but a fair bit of finesse. Nothing that'd likely stand up to a good stuff dose of Hellfire. "Been around the block a time or two." he admitted. "Seen a whole lot of things."

Camille Russo has posed:
She stiffened at the mention of family, just a touch straighter in her posture. The chip she'd just picked up broke, fragments falling into the basket with a low curse. "Little from my kinfolk while they could, rest from my own research." And some ill-advised experimentation. That wasn't necessary to explain. She picked up another chip, managing to scoop a dollop of dip onto it and into her mouth without another incident. "Still learning the block, haven't seen much that's actually useful for me." An admission, but. Maybe he could point her somewhere reputable.

Johnny Blaze has posed:
Ah. A student. That made sense. "If you ever find yourself in New York, there's a guy in the Village. Might be able to help you out or point you to someone that can. He's good like that." he said, mentally grinning at sending this poor woman to Doctor Strange's doorstep. "Just stay away from strange men on bikes and you'll probably be fine." Safe advice no matter what. Didn't cover Robbie, but he had a hard time seeing this woman heading into the barrio for magic lessons.

Camille Russo has posed:
Camille gave his leathers and the chain a slow once-over, laughter bubbling out of her. "Little late for that one, sugar," she says as her laughter subsides. "More of ya, then? I'll keep an eye out, if only to know I'm runnin the other damn way if I see one of ya screamin down the street on your bike." She grinned, teeth bright against the darker stain of lipstick on her mouth. "I know my safety limits, I'm not a complete idiot."

Johnny Blaze has posed:
"See, my advice still stands. Strange men on bikes. Best avoided." he said with a grin. "Believe me, you see someone like me coming your way, runnin' about the safest thing you can do 'Less you're into some shady shit, in which case..." he said, letting his voice trail off. "Well, in which case you'll just die tired."

Camille Russo has posed:
"Generally in the business of stoppin shady shit, but I'm not some wide-eyed innocent about the unintended harm that can come along with it. Rocks fall, people die, ouais? I want my heart and my feather to balance." She shrugged. "All I can do is my best. Minimize collateral damage where I can. Help clean up my messes somehow when I cain't. Take out some true evil while I'm at it, otherwise I'm wasting the gifts of my line." She took a long gulp of her Pimm's Cup, shaking her head with a sigh. "My momma met her end before I could learn as much as I was s'posed to, and I'm the last of the line. I hate that."

Johnny Blaze has posed:
"See, that all sounds pretty straight-up." he said. "Stay away from the Hells, make your heart and feather balance, you'll be fine." he said, then remembered that he had whiskey. Undrunk! Unacceptable. He tossed it back and then left the shotglass alone. For now. "Sometimes bad shit happens to good people. That's life." he said.

Camille Russo has posed:
"That... Should not be an issue." Camille had zero intent of ever stepping into the Hells, not unless she had the power and backup to take on the demons that had hunted her family line to near-extinction. They might still have the win, since she'd been able to learn so little of her family's specific traditions, but she would admit at least to herself that she'd like to get the satisfaction of returning the favor. She nodded instead. It was true. Karma wasn't a factor when it came to Shit Happens, not generally.

Johnny Blaze has posed:
"So you got nothing to worry about from me, then." he said with a solemn nod. "Been real nice chatting with you. Good luck with ... everything. And for the last time stay away from strange men on bikes!" he said with a laugh, reaching into an inside pocket of his leather jacket and pulling out an honest-to-God nugget of _gold_ to pay the bartender with. One last look around to see if there was anything he needed to go have a few words with, found nobody fitting that description, and then headed towards the men's room. Because the Bar was occasionally twelve.