7803/In for a Penny.

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In for a Penny.
Date of Scene: 12 September 2021
Location: Tir Na Nog
Synopsis: Random circumstances or an act of fate? An encounter with Killian's extended family throws Nettie and Mike into a mess.
Cast of Characters: Killian Quinn, Michael Hannigan, Nettie Crowe




Killian Quinn has posed:
    It's a Sunday night, but that doesn't mean that Tir isn't hopping a bit. Perhaps not as hopping as it might be on a Friday, but close to it. One reason it's close to it is behind the bar. Seriously, the man has regulars that border on *fans*. It's all in that smile, those laughing eyes, the way he can juggle a glass and a bottle like a pro, the occasional fits of bartop dance, the way he makes every person he serves feel like they're something, someone important.

    ...and part of it might be the little stoat that's become a regular sight at Tir na Nog when Killian's tending. Is that legal? A little critter skittering across the bar to hop from one person to another and then back from time to time to ride on Killian's shoulder?

    There *is* still room at the bar for now at least. Maybe in an hour or two it'll be stacked a few deep waiting. The Fairy Bartender is in his groove, a wildling that thrives on the chaos of the human condition, the boisterousness and the unpredictability of it all. Twirling, dance stepping and finger snapping from one customer to the next, he's having the time of his life back there. Everyone should love their job so much.

    Something by Flogging Molly, The Dropkick Murphys, The Mahones, The Prodigals, or others of their ilk blares from the speakers around the room attached to the jukebox, it's loud and throbbing and thumping.

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Having started off the morning in New York City and the early afternoon hours at Happy Harbor, Mike is all over the place today. And what business brings Mike to Gotham? Well, that's another story for another time but the evening's opened up and the tired rocker is not quite out just yet.

He'd been in a daze, which is highly unrecommended when walking about Gotham. But he hasn't been accosted yet so, small victories. He's not really sure why but, when he starts to focus on his surroundings he finds himself at the Tir Na Nog for the first time. And boy is it busy! But hey, they're serving drinks so that's more than enough reason for the ponytailed musician to make his way to the bar. Eh, he can head home after a few drinks, right?

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Stoats definitely are not supposed to be allowed in bars. But in walks a young woman, her hair tucked up inside of a watchcap, wearing a black corset-style top beneath a vest (with POCKETS!) and chunky boots, looking a little out of place at such a *nice* bar. She takes a deep breath, and walks up to the bar where Killi is tending, sitting off to the side and trying to be unobtrusive.

    Its clear that she's not a regular, because she's squinting at the taps to see what they have.

Killian Quinn has posed:
    Unobtrusive, Nettie Rose, how dare you. Killian's head jerks thattaway almost as soon as the Grey Witch walks into the place, those expressive brown eyes twinkling... maybe even *literally* for a moment, damned fae. She's been spotted, yes she has. It might be a moment before he can make it to her, but she's in his sights.

    ...and the list of 'on tap' is long, much of it stout, much of it dark; but standard fare is available as well.

    Just so happens that Mike's the next in line when he makes it to the bar. Killian fixes the musician with that dazzling smile, all dimples and just *alive*, that. It's hard, sometimes, to not smile back at Killian Quinn. "What can I getcha?" he asks, sounding a little like he just stepped off the boat.

    Killian isn't the only one that's noticed Nettie's entrance. That little stoat that shouldn't be in a bar at all bounds off in that direction to scamper right damned well up onto her head. ... and for the first time ever, he reveals himself as more than what he appears to be when he leans the front half of his little self right over her head to lock little beady black eyes right on to hers and say, "There's danger afoot tonight, fookers come all the way through the fogs for him, best go Nettie Rose." Of course his voice is low and the crowd loud, it's not like that anyone *else* will notice a talking stoat.

Michael Hannigan has posed:
It is hard not to smile back when someone smiles at you. So, why resist? Returning the smile to Killian he is more than happy to oblige with the request for information. Because beer. "Guinness." Mike answers. His smile isn't quite on dazzling mode tonight. But it's more of a warm, relaxed variety.

The odd movement to the side of his eye, draws his attention over to a stoat running over towards Nettie. Pale eyes settle upon the woman. She seems familiar...

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    And the witch notices the stoat making his way, and she recognizes that recon on a fae on his own turf might be more difficult than intended. She was still reeling from seeing the dead everywhere. The stoat climbing up on her, to her head, and then sticking half his body in her field of vision? Relatively normal.

    When she hears his voice outside of the mysts, little more unusual, but she holds her hand up for the stoat to rest on, even his meager weight was pulling the cap forward and showing her silver-white hair.

    "Is that so, little lad?" she asks gently. "Might be I've been steered to help then." she comments to the stoat with a small smile.

Killian Quinn has posed:
    Killian serves up Mike's Guiness, in a bottle because who drinks that on tap? He pours half the bottle into a glass that ends up with a perfect head - don't read into that, it just is what it is. "There you go, runnin' a tab?" he asks before he looks down the bar and spots Slink on top of Nettie's head.

    A low whistle and a tchtch click of his tongue carries far enough for the little critter's sensitive ears to send him bounding back, but not before, "Best not get involved, Nettie Rose."

    The doors to the pub open, not so unusual that, they do so on the regular, they're *doors* after all. What is unusual is the couple that walks in when they open. Even to the mundane eye, they're a fetching pair. The sorts that tend to have all eyes when they walk into the room. Him, tall and lean muscled with shining chestnut hair to his shoulders. Her, small, the word petite comes to mind, even delicate with hair white as snow - dyed that, right? ...has to be? Both impeccably dressed.

    To the not so mundane eye, both of them shine with a cold light and a chilled beauty that's very near mesmerizing.

Michael Hannigan has posed:
"Eh I'll pay as I go." Mike replies back, turning back to the bar as he reaches into his pocket to fetch out what should be enough to cover the cost of a solitary Guinness, and factoring mark up. If he's short, he's certain he'll get corrected. And he'll know for certain how many drinks he'll be getting here.

Following Killian's glance, he looks back over towards the stoat and the Nettie. The name itself doesn't jog the memory but he feels like he's seen her before.

The figures that emerge in the bar behind Nettie ends up getting a look as well. Very different appearance indeed from the others here.

...Uh oh.

This is going to be a repeat of that ghost thing again, isn't it?

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Nettie knows The Other when she sees them. She's got some experience in the area, and she breathes out a moment. She watches the pair of them with curiousity, but she reaches to her bag, and loosens the protective strap on the pocket her wand is in, casually moving as if she was going to gauchely scratch at her back, and she stretches her fingers.

    It takes effort to turn her gaze away long enough to look to Killian, and she lets out a small breath.

Killian Quinn has posed:
    Killian's attention's caught by the pair the moment they enter as well, but he's not obvious about it. "Pretentious fucks," he mutters under his breath, likely to the little stoat no sitting on his shoulder. Brown eyes meet Nettie's gaze when she looks his way and he mouths, "Go." He'd be issuing the same warning to Mike if he actually knew the lad.

    The tone of the music coming from the jukebox changes to something not so... 'Punk'. Fitting for both the bar itself and what it implies beyond, 'Tir na Nog' by Celtic Women cues up next.

    They part the crowd like a sea, without a person having a clue as to the fact that they're moving or why they might be.

    Their dance begins as does the spell it weaves through the lesser minded, mundane patrons of the bar. No one can look away, not a soul can deny them. Beneath the thrum of the jukebox beats a different tune, the song of the Fae. Nettie's way down there, so it's unlikely she'll hear his muttered warning, but Mike is *right there*. "Don't look at them."

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Hearing the warning that may not have been intended to him, he turns to look back to Killian. "Hmm?" Getting a bad feeling, the payment is set down before Killian before Mike reaches over to pick up the glass, downing the contents quick.

Now it probably would be wise for the musician to cut and run there being he's all paid up but, he's still got half a bottle left. He pours the rest of it in the glass.

Ok so he's probably not going to spend as MUCH time here as initially expected but damn it all, he's going to finish his beer at least.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    She hears the group part behind her. Shebreathes out, formulating a plan. She could try and interrupt their magic -- which could kill everyone in the bar. That'd be a bad idea. She thinks about what she has in her bag of tricks, her fingers curling a moment as she breathes out, and looks back to Killian. She looks up to the ceiling and goes "Need to stop thinkin' 'bout what he would do." she states, and she goes to stand. She grabs the shotglass of someone's strong boozy shot, and she draws to the slate portion of the floor.

    Down goes the alcohol.

    Out comes the lighter, and there's nothing like the primal fear of something to clear an area as she sets the alcohol on fire.

    "Oop! Watch it ladies, fire on the floor!" she calls out in warning, pushing a couple of people out of the way.

    Break the fascination. Get at least a few people out.

Killian Quinn has posed:
    After the song's end, amid the lingering stupor brought about in the mere mortals, the pair make their way toward the bar and Killian. Of course this means they're walking directly toward Mike when their glamour drops. The beauty of the true fae is not something meant for mortal eyes and likely not something truly meant for the slightly more than mortal.

    As they approach, the female tilts her head every so slightly to regard Mike, curious, as if she might be looking at an oddity in a freak show. "This one's touched," she offers in a singsong voice that isn't English, but is understood by Nettie and Mike regardless. They are both, after all, 'touched' at least for now. "I wonder how that happened," she continues.

    Her counterpart seems less interested. "It matters not. That isn't why we're here."

    ...and then, at least for some, the spell's broken; heads shaking as if clearing a fog. Fire! Some run for the door, most that were broken from the spell actually. A few, however, made the mistake of a fleeting glimpse at the 'unglamoured' faeries. Those unlucky few? Well, they stand frozen in place, screams building. They're truly not a sight meant for the mundane mind.

    "What do ye *want*," Killian demands, cool as a cucumber he was, until people started screaming. "Turn that shite back off!"

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Beer relocated to glass, Mike is already lifting it up when he hears the woman's comments. He blinks, starting to turn to look before the warning comes back to mind. He turns his head back to the bar, and instead is left to just listen in. What the hell do they mean by touched? Guess he skipped the book that explained that bit. Then again, during that time of research he had just been skimming for key words.

Either way. Priorities.

The empty glass is set back down upon the counter.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    The good thing about alcohol fires? They're low-temp and burn themselves out quickly.

    "Sorry! Sorry! Sparked a cig and carrying at the same time!" Nettie calls out "Clumsy me!"

    But with some people out of the mesmerization, that's at least a coule that don't have to deal with fae business.

    Nettie obviously does not have a cigarette in her hand, but does return her lighter to her vest as she bodily moves her way through the crowd.

Killian Quinn has posed:
    Put upon is the sound of the sigh the male lets out when the screaming begins. His attention, along with eyes greener than green should ever be set in a face so hauntingly beautiful as to induce nightmares, turns toward Nettie. "Oh, look, another one," he drolls before his glamour snaps back into place to turn him merely into mesmerizing beauty rather than haunting. Before he adds, his tone expecting complete obedience, "Sit, witch, this doesn't concern you."

    The female follows in doing the same and tucking the truth of herself away. "Fear not, dear lad, my brother and I are not here to collect on the bounties on your head." Poor little Slink seems to have gone frozen with fear on Killian's shoulder. ...seems to have.

    "No, not that," the male agrees. "We need your help. ...and you will give it, lest we come for those touched," the threat rolls off his tongue as if it were always meant to be there, despite it not having been there until he noticed Mike and Nettie. "You wouldn't want that now would you *half-breed*?"

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Hold on.

"Wait. What?" Mike looks over to Killian, giving him a questioning look. Just what in the hell is going on here? Ok. That woman called him 'touched' and now this jackass is talking about collecting said 'touched' if some guy he just met doesn't help them?

"This is bullshit."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "What he means is that we can see them for what they are, at the moment, likely 'cause there's been some kinna leak on their side.

    And at that, Nettie lights a cigarette for real, and she gives a puff a moment as she looks to the two.

    "Oi. Rude. Walking into someone's home turf an' actin' a fright, mesmerizin' the locals -- this lad's partially under my own watch, so the hell it doesn't concern me."

Killian Quinn has posed:
    "Mind, it'll take someone that can pull on the moon to get there, so learn quickly little half-breed," the female of the pair offers before she places an old, tattered map on the bar. It wasn't there in her hand before, but then it always was, wasn't it? Just like a pirate's map to a buried treasure, there's a big red X marking the spot in what appears the north woods of Central Park in New York. "You have a fortnight."

    For the moment, Killian pays Nettie and Mike no mind at all. "...and in return you'll reverse the effects of the fog on everyone present when it happened." It's not a question, it's a demand, sort of.

    It isn't met with kindness from the male. "You dare make demands of *us*?!" The second he stretches out a hand in Killian's direction, the second before the magic hits the little Fairy Bartender in a flash of flickering lights and sparks of something else that sends him to his knees, that little stoat is on the move. Slink makes a leap that shouldn't be possible for the little critter, up onto the wall behind the bar, onto the hilt of one of the two swords crossed back there; antiques on display. With all he has in his tiny little self, he lands on the hilt of one and sends it spiraling up into the air to arc back down, then he does the same to the other. Old those, worth a pretty penny like than not, authentic, should be in a museum perhaps... heavy enough to make one wonder how that tiny thing managed to move them at all.

    But most important... forged of iron.

    One for each of those 'touched' should either chose to take them up.

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Following Nettie's voice, he looks over towards her as she gives explanation. "Not to mention it sounded like they were making threats." Mike adds in to Nettie's call out for rude behavior, "And if the leak's coming from their side there's no reason to getting us involved. I just came in here for a beer."

But did he really? Did he conciously decide to come here or did he just END UP here?

And then there's the mention of fog. Mike blinks, looking back over to Killian. And that's when it hits.

Central Park. The ice rink outside the castle with the stabby branches and-

"Sh-"

The shouting from the tall guy towards the bartender cuts off the musician's utterance as he watches the bartender get attacked. "Oi!" He reacts, channeling a bit of his aunt in him, "Leave him be!"

The clattering of the sword landing near his feet draws his attention. Jogging up another thought. Ok. He's not that well versed, but even he knows iron's good for something. He stoops down, picking the sword up.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "KILLI!" comes a call from the Witch, and she is on the move, jumping on the bar and entirely ready to wrestle and wrangle some too-good-for-her weirdlings into place. She sees Slink's movement to the swords -- Cold Iron! Clever Slink!

    Nettie is on the bar, which helps her tower over the other fae, and she brings the sword up, leveling it at his eyes.

    And she breaks out the Command Voice, the one she used when she was telling Soldiers (or other very willful people) to sit down and shut up.

    "Lay another fockin' bit of magic on this lad and I will split the both of you open and sell your bloody entrails for reagents. Killian is under the protection of Annette Crowe, the last of the Lincolnshire Crowes, And I have absolutely zero fuckin' problems setting your pretty asses aflame and sending you runnin' back to whatever fuckin' fogs you hide in. So /Piss Off/."

Killian Quinn has posed:
    Unlike Killian, the two doing all the threatening and tossing their weight around are full-bloods. While neither of them exactly cower, because that would just be beneath them, they both do step back and away from Nettie and her threats and Mike and his retrieval of the other sword.

    Cold Iron - It's bane, truly.

    The attack on the Fairy Bartender comes to a halt, just leaving him a little dazed on the floor.

    The female lets out a laugh, somewhere between humorous and a little nervous, "We were just asking our nephew for a favor, truly, just playing...."

    ... and then, well, they're just gone as if they were never there, leaving behind a map as the only evidence that they ever were.

    Killian drags himself to his feet and Slink leaps down onto Nettie's shoulder. The spell woven breaks, the enchanted and dazed patrons all begin to surface from it; save the few on the ground in a ball after having seen the truth of the fae.


"Aaahhhhh, why'd ye that?" Killian demands of both Nettie and Mike. "All ye've done is pissed'm off more, aye? I've no idea what they want from this place now, no idea if they'll honor my ask. Fuck..." He snatches up the map. "Harness the fuckin' moon? What?"

    He's not *really* angry, takes more than just that to bring him to true anger, but he's *frustrated* no doubt.

Michael Hannigan has posed:
"I honestly don't know what your deal is with the bartender," Mike admits to the intruders, "But despite Miss Crowe's generous assessment of your external looks, from what I've of seen YOUR behavior in particular." He gestures to the male, "You are ugly as hell on the inside."

The talk of selling weird parts is not lost on Mike as he looks to Nettie. The tea shop Strange was shopping in. "Ah HAH!" He grins, "I KNEW you looked familiar."

Right. Intruders. The sword lifts up but they're already gone. And Killian's protesting. Mike looks over to Killian, frowning at the complaint. "You really think we're going to just stand back and let some asshole beat you up when we got a means to stop them?"

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Heat a' the moment, Killi. Also your stoat threw a sword at me, what was I supposed to do, let the little man down?" Nettie asks incredulously, reaching to scritch fondly under Slink's chin and steps to a stool, then flops down onto it, and sets the sword on the counter, She gives a wan smile to Michael, and gives a nod to him -- and then looks to Killi.

    "You an' I should have a bit of a sit down. Might have a few ways to harness a moon.

Killian Quinn has posed:
    It's because Killian is as popular as he is with the customers that it doesn't lose him his damned job when he decides to bounce middle of his shift with nothing more than a quick, 'Not feelin' well, headin' home' to the manager on duty.

    ...and that's just what he does when he walks off without a word to Nettie and Mike beforehand. Of course, Slink's still on Nettie's shoulder so it's a safe bet the bartender'll be back shortly.

    "He's not tellin' it all, ye know that, aye... but if ye ask'm, he's gotta, he does. At least crooked. He can do crooked, just can't do a lie." The little stoat tells Nettie as he hops to her head, then to Mike's shoulder, then back to Nettie's. And Mike gets his first taste of a talking stoat.

    Before the little thing can spill more, Killian returns. "...took the rest of the night off," he grouses. Grouse-y Killi isn't nearly as fun as normal Killi. "The both of ye went and done it. In for a penny now, shoulda stayed out of it." To the door, that's his next move with a 'well c'mon' look tossed over his shoulder.

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Mike looks to the sword in his hand before reaching over to place it onto the countertop as well. He ends up sitting down next to Nettie, watching as Killian walks off. Looking to the shop keeper he smiles, "So The fog in the park did something?"

The question is forgotten as the Stoat starts talking. Looking to the creature, he rests his elbows on the counter and makes a perch for his chin with his folded over hands. Smile still in place as he looks to the cute creature as it hops back and forth between him and Nettie.

The smile fades a little as Killian comes back grumbling away. The look given to them speaks volumes to which the curiousity in Mike causes for him to get up and follow out.

See. Situations like these are why Mike pays for his drinks as he goes when he just 'somehow' ends up at a bar. It happens more than he'd like to admit.