Owner	Pose
Valeria Richards	It's Superbowl weekend and that means a lot of people are on the move looking for the best place to watch the game. Harry's hideaway will be one of those places but it's not game day yet. The parking lot outside filled with bikes, the inside with bikers making way more noise of the sort normally not appreciated. Enough that when the staff start feeling unsafe, there were discussions of asking them to leave. Sam and Tabby weren't on shift. So likely they'll need to call the cops. There's even odds on who caused more property damage, cops or Boom-Boom but calling either might take more time than they have. "The fuck we leaving till we ready pal, just keep the damn beer flowing and the hotwings coming and we might not leave a shitty review!" one of the dozen or so bikers, clearly the leader, jokes. The patches on their backs naming them 'The Purest Pack' with a full moon over what looks way too similar to the Friends of Humanity bird in blue and red.
Logan	Logan had been holding up the bar, making a pointed effort to not get involved. Mouthy townies were nothing special, and it generally wasn't worth getting rough with them since that only brought more trouble. He looks down into his drink, ignoring the Superbowl itself in trade for his own thoguhts. Not his game. But the raised voices and foul language draw his attention and he lets out an irritated grunt. The Canuck pushes himself off his stool, not rising to any kind of impressive height, and walks across the bar to the loudest of the pack. He doesn't look directly at him, instead jerking his head to one sight. "Okay, bub, you're ready now."
Valeria Richards	There's some clearly drunken jeers from some of those bikers. Unaware of thhe hornets' nest they're poking. The leader, not quite six feet tall, shy a couple inches, his put belly hanging out over his jeans with a load bearing FoH buckle. The others laughing with the man as he tries to look down at Logan stepping up. "The fuck you think your opinion worth shit? I see no beer or wings fucker." he taunts. A bunch of the staff and more than a few of the regulars however know Logan. They start hunkering down, leaving or otherwise getting the hell out of the way. Harry's clearly at that point he's planning his next remodelling. At least one of the bikers notices that the other patrons didn;t leave till after Logan stepped up. "Hey, Hogwart?" the grey in his beard and the lines on the man's face. He's never read Potter. Some nicknames come about honestly. And this man is a pig among apes. "Hogwart, umm. I don't think they're calling the cops." the biker warns the leader. Meanwhile, Hogwart himself is sliding a hand into his pocket and extracting some brass knuckles slipped pver his fingers.
Logan	Logan's eyes move to the brass knuckles on Hogwart's hand, clicking his tongue and shaking his head. One calloused hand raises to run through his unruly hair, a low and menacing chuckle escaping him. "See, fella, that's a weapon there. And I got a policy. You raise a weapon against me, I take the weapon. If I warn you and you don't turn and run outta here with your fat tail 'tween your legs? I take the hand." The Canuck's nose wrinkles and he looks past Hogwart at the other jeering bikers. "You an' all these Marys. Beat it."
Valeria Richards	Some people really only exist to hit the wall and then crash and burn. Hogwart is one of those people. "Only place my fat tail goes is between the legs of some little cow. Some a these bits a fluff might do when I'm done with you." he snarls back. There's a mix of encouraging bravado and maybe some nudging from a few of the slightly smarter members of the 'Pack' to try and get out. He's seen all the good westerns where someone about to get their ass kicked and maybe, Hoogwart is not Lee Van Cleef. That brass knuckle is lifted as a punch is wound up and thrown in an overhand right atop Logan's skull. This was not a clever move, nor was the rest of the gang starting to gear up, chains, belt buckles, a few broken bottles. And even a pool cue from teh table. At least they're loyal. Stupid. But loyal.
Logan	There's a flash, a glint of steel, and then a spray of blood 'cross the wall that would do Kurosawa proud. Hogwart's fingers topple to the ground with a series of unpleasant little thuds, the brass knuckles following after with a heavier sound. While the man is screaming over the sudden loss of his digits, Logan's claws have already retracted leaving the faintest of red-raw flesh as the skin heals behind them. One booted foot rises to kick a chair into one of the gang members who has seen fit to try and arm himself. Another catches a half-empty bottle of Kokanee Lager in the face, the Canuck neglecting to arm himself or even pop his claws again. "Yer that stupid, are ya? Right, fuck it. Harry, put it on my tab ... "
Valeria Richards	There's snickerrs as the punch swings. Another biker near the counter points at a picture of a long haired blonde. Tabitha listed as 'Employee of the Month' Harry doesn't recognise tabby's authority there. the biker elbpws another. "Hey isn't she the bitch that's deepfaked on all that stuff you spank to?" That was nearly real porn of her. It still was but the production was halted. The claws are fast, at a speed of around 130 kph, and only moving as long as Logan's forearms, they can slide in and out almost too fast to see. Those fingers go flying wildly. One lands in a beer mug, another in a waitress's apron pocket. the rest god knows where. Likely in some hotwings. "Fucking Mutie!" one of the bikers yells while Hogwarts is screaming in pain and sucking in air like he's hyper ventilating. That one biker, the smart one is glaring at his gangmates and warding them off. He saw the knuckles heal. "We're done. We're fucking gone for now. But we see you and any other fucking mutie with on the street. We won't be using cheap ass shit like this!" he warns, dragging the stumbliing and bloodies Hogwart out the door. The rest of the gang backpedal their way out. A few extra yanks on collars keeps some of the other dumber Pack members from joining Hogwart in needing medical care. Or a coffin. Harry finally pokes his head up from the back of the bar and looks around. "I think you made some new friends. I got spare cues in the back and it's just mopping. I think you can safely say you avoided wrecking the place for a change." he states and just goes to pour Logan a fresh beer. That one does go on his tab.