Can We Talk About Something Else?

[Hazel Logan]

The fire at Hackballs Cross had been the talk of the town for over a week now. It paled ever other topic as people speculated on just how the fire could have started. No inmate was allowed heat, nevermind fire of any sort. There were no hearths in the cells and even the lights they were allowed were heatless candles. It was truly a mystery. It was, however, a mystery that Hazel could care less about. She didn't know the woman who was killed personally and she really had no opinion about her, no matter how many people asked as she delivered their drinks and bowls of lamb stew and baskets of bread.

Life marched on for her in the same old way and she really didn't want to be part of this current mass speculation on why the woman's body had not been released to the family. Frankly, she didn't care. That was for the family to worry about. Who the woman was screwing before she died was also on the lips of many and whether he possibly had something to do with her death. How that could be, she had no idea. But people in town loved to talk about things regardless of whether they were based around any sort of fact.

It was a busy Wednesday night at Rory Fallon's Pub and Hazel still had a good two hour to go before she could hang up her apron and head back to her small apartment down near the port. It would only be 9:00pm, still safe to walk and not have to pay for a taxi. At least, in her own mind this is what she'd determined.

Her face glistened with both oil and persperation. Her long red hair was tucked into a bun that was no longer as neat as when she'd begun. Some strands had pulled free and hung around her cheeks. The pub was quite crowded and her area had been non-stop since she'd arrived. She was being a good waitress this evening and the tips were showing that. She even felt a smile hanging on her lips when she went back to the kitchen to pick up a special order.  A few young men of Cat's Claw had paid her some colorful but not offense comments as she'd worked tonight. It made her hunger for a lover begin to grow again. She'd not had a lover in over two months. She'd broken up with Duncan after three and half months together. She didn't know why. She just started feeling irritable when he was near her and she knew it was time to say good-bye. He'd not been in Rory's for sometime now and it did make her feel a little badly.

She looked about the pub now to see who would take up the next table clearing of people. Whatever the next few hours dished up, she could handle it.

[Liam McShanem]

The fire had changed things.  People were talking.  The word was out, and something funky was up, everyone could see that.  Whither or not the talk would come to revealing or doing anything was to be decided by those who took action now.  Hannah Winter was dead.  A woman, who Liam had only heard good things about, (except for the bloody papers, but he'd all but stopped reading them after swearing very loudly to murder Abner Rockwell in broad daylight with a very blunt object in a crowded coffee shop.)  The fire had not only burnt down the North Wing of that Notorious prison.  Liam could see it burning down certain people's inhibitions.  Dalia was acting differently, and certain people on the street, close to Hannah, walked different, talked in small groups on corners with their heads down.  And, it had burnt down Liam's long built up pyre of indifference.  The drowning waters of alcohol had proved to be flammable, and the falling spark from Hackball's that had lighted on his cheek that night had awoke the fire in his eyes again.  He smiled less, but felt more.  He lied less, and cried more.  His relief from the crushing oppression of grim reality made him want to spread the fire, until all of Cat's Claw was burning like he was.  What was left of stifling reason whispered in his ear every minute about how unlikely it was that he, or anyone else could do it, but the fire was no match, and blowing on it only fueled it. 

The creation of the Innish Free Press had always sounded like a good thing to Liam, but now, it was his salvation, and torrents of words exploded from his fingertips onto paper in cat-scratch words that he could barely make out after he had plugged the deluge.  He wrote in Rory Fallon's Pub, and had by now, become quite a regular there.  Some of the waitresses recognized him, knew his usual order, some were still new to him, and gave him quizzical looks as he smiled at them when they handed him his drinks.  After a few weeks of ordering milk, Liam remembered something that him and his old mates used to talk about.  There was supposedly, in the far east, a fighting style, like kung fu, that required alcohol to perfect.  Him and his mates had never really thought to thoroughly into the idea, but now the idea of using the drink, rather than getting used by it, was more than attractive to Liam.  He chided himself for never finding the middle ground, and then ordered a pint of beer, and a shot of whiskey, and begged the waitress not to let him have any more. 

Wednesday was crowded, as always.  Rory's was always crowded.  Liam pushed his way in through the door, fighting both the bodies and the sheer clamor of the place.  Spotting a table clearing, one of those booths in the corner, he darted over to it, and slammed down his notebooks, spreading the papers out as far as possible and put his coat on the chair opposite, to make it look like he was not the only one there.

[Hazel Logan]

She was moving forward at the same pace the young, familiar man with his many notebooks began to spread out. She didn't know him personally, but knew he was one of her classmates from their long ago days at Whispers Academy. She'd waited on him a few times and he'd always been pleasant, if perhaps a bit distracted. He was usually bent over his notebooks and barely noticing what was going on around him. She wondered what he was he wrote about so dilgently.

"Evening," she smiled and placed a cocktail napkin on his table in the one bare spot remaining. "A Guinness for you, this evening?"  Her Quickquill and order pad hovered just over shoulder, ready to take his order.

[Liam McShanem]

A young waitress sped up to him with that gait that only a waitress catering to a full house can assume.  Her shoes clicked on the wooden floor of the old pub, a sound that attracted Liam's attention.  He looked up to discover a pretty redhead a few inches shorter than him striding up to him.  Her bun was coming undone, and a few strands of hair were fallen over her face, swaying with her gait.  The face reminded him of whispers, but he couldn't place when or where or how.  He smiled at her as she arrived at his over occupied table, and as she dropped his napkin down onto the one bare spot on the paper laden table, she said "Evening," and smiled back. 

"Evening," Liam said, mind churning in a desperate attempt to label her face with a name.  Memories of whispers were pushed through his brain as he scanned every class, every friend, every friend's friend, searching for those green eyes. 

"Guinness for you, this evening?" she enquired, with the blasted magical pen and paper hanging just over her shoulder, the  ambiguous stenographer of every conversation of import.  Liam hated quickquils. 

"Yes, that will do fine," he said, and forcing his churning mind to a stop, swallowed his pride, and asked without stopping, "Um, sorry but, do I know you?  From somewhere other than here, that is."  He clarified, slightly raising his right eyebrow. 

[Hazel Logan]

Hazel's notepad began writing the moment she raised a finger toward it. She'd made sure to smile and not let her eyes gaze at the notebooks on the table too long. You were to be personable without being pushy or inquistive. The customers were the royality and she was the serving wench. You smiled no matter how rude they became. You apologized even if there was nothing to apologize for. And you smiled.  She knew the "waitress rules" even if she ignored those rules at times.

When the young man suddenly offered a question to her as she was turning to take care of his order, she turned back and smiled and shrugged slightly. "I had four brothers who graduated Whispers." She left herself out of the school past, having been an unextraordinary student or anyone worth mentioning. "The Logans. Matthew, Zachery, Justin and Emory." She glanced again at the man's notebooks. "Emory always liked writing--funny things mostly.  He was a Gywndion. We look similar." She smiled again, a waitress sort of smile.

[Liam McShanem]

The woman was official, gave him the professional smile and the professional answer.  he couldn't expect any more, it was the easy way to do it, stay as remote from the customers and get through your day, save all of your love and energy for those you know.  Liam couldn't really hope for more, and had he been in her position, he probably wouldn't be smiling at all.  Liam was always one to push his luck, always tried to get more than he was originally given, a habit which did not always leave him better off.  None the less, he pursued it actively and regularly. 

She finished, and he replied; "Was Emory your older?  Right?"

[Hazel Logan]

She didn't expect him to pursue the conversation further, but he did. Perhaps he was trying to hit on her. The line was common; pretending you knew each other from somewhere. His face did look familiar and suddenly a small flash of a younger version of the man lit her memory. She clearly saw his reddened face as he flew to the ground on the east lawn of the school grounds. An opponent flew in the other direction and a very stern Highmaster Shellgren stood between them. Her brother Emory and some other Gywndions were helping their fallen comrade to his feet. Hazel had stood far in the back, in the shadow of a tree, cheering on her own house mate, Ryan Avery. It was not that she liked him, as much as she always wanted to see her house win at everything.

In the end, no  one had one. Highmaster Shellgren had sent both boys off to his office and then detention.

She blinked the memory away. It had made her eyes glaze over for a moment and her smile fade. She looked once more at the young customer before her whose question hung there. "Yes. Emory was one year older than I. He didn't like Ryan Avery either." She hadn't meant to say the last part. It confirmed that she did know this young man, if only in a memory. "I should get your drink now, unless you've decided on some dinner?" She felt suddenly flustered, as if she were back in that moment, wishing this man beat to a pulp.

[Liam McShanem]

She blinked an idea out of her head and said, "Yes. Emory was one year older than I."  Liam began to nod his head, he remembered Emory, a Gwyndion through and through, a good man he was going into his second to last year when Liam left prematurely.  The two had never been too close, but they shared the same dislike for the Arianrods.  Liam almost got to reply when she unexpectedly interjected "He didn't like Ryan Avery either."  She realized what she had said, and began the escape method, running away from an awkward situation.  "I should get your drink now, unless you've decided on some dinner?"  He smiled at her forgivingly, a smile that sometimes came of condescendingly, but had nothing but good intentions behind it. 

"Don't worry too much about the drink" he said and leaned to his left and pointed behind her at a few frustrated patrons, trying to flag down busy waitresses, "You've got other more impatient things to think about right now."  Liam hated waiting tables, always had, always would, the demands that people had, the impressions they tried to make, the egos involved, both of the waiters and the patrons sometimes created a terrible clash that left one side very angry.  Liam always tried to make days easier for the people doing the job, but knew that was impossible.  He knew that to them, he was likely just another sod demanding his beer and hitting on the waitresses.  But at least he tried, and it mattered to him. 

[Chad Stevens]

Chad had made his way into the pub.  Work had been another hectic day and he was ready to watch it slip away with a few strong drinks and some dinner.  He had not wanted to go home.  Things had become even more overwhelming at the Avery Estate since the fire.  Ryan had been trying to push everything away, and in Chad's spare time he was helping Jarek work out what had actually happened and if Hannah was really dead.  Clearly and possibly not, the body was gone, they had given it to the swamp.  Clearly it might not even be Hannah.  Guild members were coming and going more lately after recent events.  Everyone was certain dark magic had been involved, and everyone was certain that more were in danger.  Chad who had so badly wanted to join the Guild and who wanted to be a part of the group now wanted to clear his mind and just stop having all the facts be forced into his face one more time.

He felt sorry for Jarek, he felt bad for Ryan and they were right, she very well could be alive.  But where?  And how?  He just couldn't answer these questions and though he wanted to help he needed a night off.  Slumping into the only spot available, he put his back to the window and immediately opened up the menu looking through the list.  Chad had been in Rory's enough times to have the menu memorized, but he just did not want to be bothered by anyone tonight.  Well, perhaps a lady friend that could help ease his troubled mind, but otherwise he just wanted to be left alone.  No chatter about Hannah, no chatter about the what ifs and the werewolves and anything else.  He wanted a night of real freedom.

Now he just needed to wait on a waitress to get over to him so he could order himself a whiskey and the usual, lamb stew, the only thing to fill him after a day like today.

[Hazel Logan]

Hazel took the opportunity to slip away from her former Gwyndion classmate, feeling a blush creeping into her cheeks. "I'll be back straight away," she said, averting her eyes and smiling an uncomfortable smile that lacked any sort of waitress professionalism.  She turned and saw that Sarah was getting one of the other customers in her area and that another had just taken a seat. This was someone she remembered.

"Good evening, Chad," she said, putting her waitress smile back in place. She did remember Chad from school as well as from Fallon's. They'd never been more than passing aquaintences, then and now. He was four years older and a well-known bachelor and partner in crime with Ryan Avery.  Hazel had no real beef with either man for sowing their wild oats. She found them generally charming and usually very good tippers. She'd never been wooed by their charms. She could  easily keep men at bay. That part of her life had never been a problem. Chad and Ryan were two names she knew she should never tangle herself with. Should her family ever catch wind of that, there would be an absolute meltdown of the entire family structure. No, she usually kept obscure boyfriends of no particular consequence.  "Whiskey and lambstew," she said, passing him and not stopping.  In a few minutes she had a large tray with both Chad's usual order and Liam's drink and some warm bread.

"No partner in crime tonight?" She inquired, placing the stew carefully before him. "It always feels wrong to see one of you here alone."

[Chad Stevens]

And like magic his wish was granted.  The buxom red head steered over his way and gave a greeting.  The menu was instantly snapped shut and he looked up smiling to those gorgeous green eyes.  "Evening, Hazel.  Busy night."  He said more out of seeing it and not actually a question.  She answered with his usual order and only sat back in his seat calling after her.  "You know me so well, lass."  Putting his hands atop of his head he had watched her walk away.  Hazel was one of the untouchables in the bar.  In short, a woman that neither Ryan or Chad had had, yet.  Chad was buzzing to get back into the saddle, and his eye for this beauty was never one to have gone too far away.  His attempts had always been futile, but who knew, perhaps tonight he could get lucky.

As Hazel returned with his order he smiled up to her and looked again into those vivid green eyes.  Chuckling as she questioned him about Ryan.  It was true, usually the two were in here together, very rarely seen in here apart, but there were always these occasions where the two just needed space from each other.  "Ah, don't tell me my girl would prefer to see him here?"  His hand shot to his heart and he shook his head.  "Sorry lass, he is working the late shift tonight.  The Carrick guard needed him and poor McMillian for a raid."  He shook his head.  He wouldn't say what the raid was on, but he was certain anyone could guess.  Wolfsbane.  Ever since the Winter murder, the guard was going crazy to find more culprits and hopefully give out where the werewolves were hiding out in the woods.

Lately the awesome pair was put on different shifts.  Every now and again the rotation would hit that they worked together or both had off at the same time, but since Hannah's death, things were overly busy in that sense as well. 

[Hazel Logan]

Hazel had to smirk a little at Chad's flirtatious advances this evening. They seemed a little more persistent or perhaps she was just feeling a little more needy.  She'd never admit to anyone who asked that  she liked these playboys, but in her heart of hearts, she found them attractive and amusing and most of all...free. What she wouldn't give to live the life of a man, or rather, men like them. They had looks and prestige. They had jobs that people admired and women literally threw themselves at these two. Still, Chad was making her smile a little more than usual tonight, a more honest smile. perhaps a bit of hungry smile.

That smile was still on her lips when she arrived back at the Gwyndion's table. She slipped the drink and the fresh basket of bread on the table for him, struggling to find a bit of space among all his notebooks. "Will you making room for a little bit of dinner this evening?" Her blue-green eyes were lit with an amusement carried over from her other customer. "The lamb chops are good." She was trying not to look at what was in his notebooks, but her eyes seemed to keep gravitating down and skimming the pages almost against her will. She imagined him a poet for some reason.

[Liam McShanem]

Liam tried to dig a hole for himself in his writing after watching her walk away, but it didn't work.  He was distracted.  It had been quite a while since he had wanted any kind of female attention, but sure enough, now he was buried in books like some pathetic nerd while that bastard across the way flirted shamelessly with her.  And to be perfectly honest with himself, he had forgotten really how to flirt.  It was an art, something one developed, not something someone just knew how to do.  Or at least not good flirting.  There was bad and good flirting, and if Liam kept on the same course he was on now, he was bound to commit some of the former.  Scribbling pictures instead of writing, he waited for something to distract him from her.  But nothing ever came.  Instead, nostalgia seeped in like water into a leaky boat.  He could feel his burning boat sinking, and had no choice but to go down with the ship.  Those days out on the road.  He did miss them, not often, but they came back sometimes, and his feet started to itch again.  The tingle started at his heel this time, and he stubbornly ignored it, and forced himself to put pen to paper.  But just as the ink stained the paper, he heard her voice, and was back on the same track again.  In his old days, he would have swept her off of her feet, drunkenly, and absurdly, but still, she would have taken him home, and fun would have ensued till morning where he would have slipped from her bed, dressed, and left like an illusive thought, out in the morning dew on the beautiful Irish road that had been his home for many years now.  

She finally came over, and after a moment of confused silence asked, "Will you making room for a little bit of dinner this evening?"  Liam was now flustered, and shoved papers aside tearing a few that he really would rather have not and mumbling excuses "Sorry, just wanted a table to myself, you know, um....  There you are."  The bread and beer plopped nicely in a space on the wood, surrounded by his pointless romantic musings.  He looked at her, the warm comfortability of recognition still glowed in her eyes from her encounter with that bald bastard across the way.  "The lamb chops are good."  She said, her eyes noticeably gravitating to his notebooks.  Indeed there was some of his poetry among the scribbles, but more of it was notes from interviews, extra thoughts, and other people's poems to inspire him to write better.  Liam smiled a little foolishly at her, and ignored her statement temporarily.  "Bald boy's charming you sufficiently this evening?"  He said, jesting at Chad's shaven head, an obvious contrast to Liam's bushy longish hair.

[Hazel Logan]

She was taken aback for a moment by Liam's statement, but laughed a little and nodded. "Always," she said, her amusement clear in her voice. She turned to glance briefly at the "bald boy". She had no idea that perhaps Liam was interested. His manner was so subtle in this sea of overtly flirtatious lads that she didn't pick up anything that read his interest in her. He seemed to be a man quite absorbed in a writer's life and on bigger missions.  Gywndions could be quite industrious, that she remembered well.  They were an easy going and cheerful lot, but could be like a bunch of worker bees when a task presented itself. They were the house that worked best together in her memory. Arianrods alway fought to be in charge. There were always too many captains and they often steered themselves to ruin on any group project. The Mathonways were such an odd bunch of introverted brainiacs that they just couldn't relate to other human beings. Trying to accomplish anything with them was about as plausible as trying to herd cats.

It was strange how the old house affiliations still rang strong in her. It was the only time in her life she'd felt like she'd belonged somewhere. She suddenly found herself turning and looking at Chad for an instant before turning back to her other friendly customer. "He wouldn't be Chad Stevens if he wasn't pouring it on thick. We can at least be thankful his devilish companion has not joined forces with him tonight." She offered the man before her a little friendly wink. "So, dinner?" Her quickquill suddenly came to attention over her shoulder, ready for an order.

[Liam McShanem]

The girl tittered briefly and nodded a little, "Always," she mused, laughing at the attention she was getting.  She glanced back at the man, but Liam didn't look to see the man's reaction substituting the view for one of her hair shimmering in the low light as the tendrils hanging from her brow swept back and forth.  She looked back at Liam and spoke, smiling still, "He wouldn't be Chad Stevens if he wasn't pouring it on thick. We can at least be thankful is devilish companion has not joined forces with him tonight."  This was a reunion of epic proportions.  "Chad Stevens,?"  He exclaimed, attempting to keep his voice down.  "Jesus Christ, last time I saw him, he was decking me across the face."  Liam wasn't sure what to do, this was a man who he had fought with and had little other connection with other than fist to soft spot.  He covered his uncertainty with a grin to the girl.  "I didn't expect this, if he's here, then where's that bastard Avery?"  He took a brief sip of his brew, waiting for her to respond.