--- In TheGothHouse@y..., "W. L. Fielder" <bridgewalker@e...> wrote:
> : "Winter, a shot of Jamieson's, and a Yuengling chaser," she said. "And
> : a hug, too, if you please. Oh, and if there is no one in the kitchen,
> : I'd like to make myself useful."
>
> "Well, good afternoon to yeh, Maiden. It's been awful quiet lately. Seein'
> a
> friendly face brings a smile, yes it does."
>
> The Jameson's appeared swiftly, but Winter decided to make a production
> over the beer. He filled a brandy snifter with ice water and let it sit for
> a few,
> swished it around, dumped the water while popping open the bottle on
> a little metal tab mounted under the bar. With great solemnity he poured the
> beer slowly into the snifter, as one would charge a chalice with holy water.
>
> "Your beer, madame," he said with an exaggerated genteel accent.
>
> "Anyone else?" Winter asked the crowd, "I can only polish a bar rail so
much.
> And
> it's time for the stories to begin anew. Who wants to belly up and tell us
> a tale, eh?
> Don't be shy. How 'bout you, Christiane? One must dream deep when
asleep

The front door opens with a flourish...
The Scent of Roses and Cloves enter the room before a body is seen...

And with a smile and twinkle in his dark brown, almost black
eyes....Algernon says while lighting his endless supply of Clove Ciggs...

"I Do hope Dear Sir you have some Stoli in stock that is colder than a
Woman's Rejection?"

Winter reached across the bar and gripped Algernon's forearm tightly.
"Welcome
back, you old
scoundrel. I've got Stoli that's so cold that the word Truth is etched onto
the bottle. With
a splash of cranberry, or straight up?"

"I want my first sip to be pure. crisp. neat." said Algernon. He bowed
before Christiane and took her
hand to kiss, Then seated himself just so. Winter served the vodka in a small
cup made of ice.

Christiane gave Algernon a warm hug, and then settled herself on the
barstool beside him. "You asked me about dreams, Winter," she said, then
knocked back the shot of Jameson's and shuddered slightly. "Ah, that's good. I
don't drink it very often, but sometimes there's a need. Now my mouth doesn't
taste like a perfumer took up residence. I know the Lady wanted me to rest,
but her flowery minions didn't have to go the whole Sleeping Beauty bit. It
sounds all romantic to wake up in a bed of living roses, but I assure you I
would have preferred satin or flannel."

She shook her head, sighed, and sipped at her beer. "You think after eight
months of sleep I'd remember a few dreams, but I just have glimpses of
images. Jennifer and that mouthy toucan of hers in what looks like the setting
for a B-rated fantasy film shot on location in one of those untouched medieval
villages in the Czech Republic. The RavenLord's glowing eyes. I swear, if
he's been rooting around in my head, the next time I see him I am going to
kick him hard in the place that passes for his nuts. Zophiel flying, which is
weird because he cut off his wings as an offering to protect this place. And
speaking of my angelic true love, where the fuck is he?"

The last was said with a quiver in her voice that contrasted the casual words,
and she surreptitiously wiped at her eyes.