2017-01-16 The Poetry of the Night
This scene is rated Everybody
Warning: N/A
Players: April O'Neil, Mike Hannigan (Phantasm)
GMed by Who GMed?
Title: The Poetry of the Night

The Lamplighter Lounge used to be a swanky bar way back in the day, but prohibition and then the continual deterioration of Hell's Kitchen has turned it into a ghost of it's former self. There are two entrances to the lounge, one an archway to the hotel lobby and another that leads directly to the street outside

The lounge is a large, with a vaulted ceilings sporting ancient fans that strain to keep rotating and cycle the stale are. The walls are paneled in stained mahogany, the varnish now looking greasy, reaching waist high around the room and above that the walls are painted a British hunter green, long having faded a few tones, and broken up with photos of local people and places dating back decades.

Along the entire rear wall of the lounge sweeps a bar, stained and pot-marked from more then a few cigarettes, lined with green upholstered bars-tools, their vinyl cracked. The bar is at least well-stocked, bottles of cheap spirits lined up along a dusty and greasy mirror with faded gold bordering that adorns the length of the wall behind it. A coffee percolator bubbles in a corner beside a standing refrigeration unit containing a few non-alcoholic beverages. Several beer tap's are placed along the bar, with brass topped, ceramic handles. Seating is amply provided, if worn, with a range of bench seats, private booths and small tables dotted around the room.

April O'Neil, twenty three year old report with firey red hair, is seated at the bar here. She'd stopped by on her way home from work, wanted to have a couple drinks before going back to her new empty apartment. She's seated at the bar, her bright yellow leather jacket making her stand out almost as much as that tied-back scorching-hued hair. She had a drink in front of her, left hand on it, and her right was tapping at an ipad on the bar in front of her face. She was looking down at it, wearing big-black-rimmed glasses over her pretty, and youthful, face.

Michael Hannigan, dressed down to obscure his connection to his more publicized persona also finds himself in the area. He may have moved from the Kitchen when he could afford to, but there are things that just keep bringing him back. His darker hair once again stuffed into a knit cap and his street attire obscured by the patched up Goodwill-esque jacket. He is definitely not trying to impress. Nor is the few days worth of stubble forming on his otherwise youthful face helping with the equation either. He's a stark contrast to the warmly colored patron already at the bar, even down to his pale blue eyes. Quietly, he steps into the bar and makes his way over. "Beamish today." He murmurs to the bartender, plopping himself down next to the reporter, crossing his arms on the bartop as he leans forward, glancing to the mirror behind the liquor display. Attention flitting to the reflections of the other patrons in the bar.

April finger-padded at the ipad a few times before Mike sat down at the bar near to her and she looked up and over at him, smiled if he looked back and then looked at her glass of brightly colored (lightly alcoholed) icey treat of a drink. She lifted it up for a sip and then looked back to her ipad. She wasn't a terribly outgoing girl when she wasn't seeking the truth behind a suspected cover-up, or trying to talk-down an angry police sergeant for information on what was 'actually' going on at some crime scene. And unlike MIke right now, she was probably fairly recognizeable to anyone who might watch Channel Six news in the mornings and sometimes in the evening. A reporter with hair like hers, and a pretty face to go with it, often got remembered by many.

Catching the smile, he gives the smallest of polite smiles back to the brightly colored neighbor via the mirror's reflection before continuing his assesment of the room. Mike's eyes shift, looking to the thick glass of black liquid set before him. He gives a nod of thanks and takes a sip. "I'm guessing based from that attire alone you're not doing any secret investigative reporting at the moment." He comments once the glass lowers again.

April first looked up at the mirror when she heard him say that and then looked over at him directly to her right. She laughed a little and looked down to adjust her large framed glasses. "No, not at the moment." She told him. "Its ah… I ride a bike, so it helps me not get killed, ya know?" She said, assuming he was of course referring to her brightly colored yellow jacket that she often got asked about. "Its also my favorite color, so there's that as an added bonus." She glanced at his dark drink and pointed at it. "What is that?" She asked, curious as a cat.

Mike tilts his head forward in a bit of a nod, smile being a bit more genuine in response to the light laugh. Attention directed towards his drink in April's inquiry, he lifts a brow, "It's Beamish. Irish Stout. Beer." He turns to look over to April, "Typically I do Guinness but its nice to switch it up every once in awhile you know?" The attention shifts over to the jacket for a bit, before blinking and looking over to April's choice of drink, "What'd you get?"

April nodded her head slowly in understanding whne he said this. "Oh, right, of course." She said with a little smile. Her pale blue eyes then went to the drink of her own, it was icey and red and had a cherry in it. "I have… no idea." She said with a little laugh. "I just explained what I was in the mood for and he sat it down in front of me." She grinned sheepishly at Mike then. "I've only been drinking for a couple years now and well, I've never bothered to memorize all the names. I don't drink often enough to care all that much." Her mind has always been focused in other directions.

The explanation gives the singer a momentary pause before he studies the red icey drink with a cherry on top. "Was the description, 'something fruity'?"

April laughed at his question and she nodded her head twice. "Something fruity, something icy. Something with alcohol. So you were -this- close." She told him while raising her right hand up to show about an inch between her thumb and forefinger.

"Ooh. A Three tier demand." Mike teases, "You're getting to be a regular connoissuer of Fruit-icey-hol drinks." He chuckles slightly tilting his head. "To be honest when I started drinking I was no different. Although I think I just went 'beer' and 'of COURSE I'm 21'."

April smiled at him and she shrugged her shoulders inside of her yellow leather jacket. "Hey. I am what I am." She replied to the first part before listening to the rest and it made her smirk a little and punctuate it with another little dip of her chin in a nod. "Which of course, I'm sure that you weren't twenty one at all, right?" She grinend then and lifted her fruity drink up to put her lips on the rim and take a drink from the tasteyness that was her little red drink.

"If I said yes, that would be an outright lie." Mike replies, giving a mock gasp, "At least one time when I was asked I was actually 21." Yay for technicalities. He pauses, "You know, I forgot the important part about starting a conversation." He offers a hand towards the reporter, "My name's Mike."

April grinned at him and gently nodded her head to his words. When he introduced himself she sat her drink back down, smiled warmly and reached over to offer her own hand. She accepted his and shook it, her own was soft and as warm as her smile. "Hello, Mike." She told him in an even tone. "I'm April. O'Neil. I just moved to this neighborhood, so I'm just trying to get a nice little drink before I head home to my empty apartment and pass out on an inflatable mattress." She laughed a little then again and reached her hand up once more to adjust her glasses again.

"Well, Miss O'Neil." Mike responds back, giving a bit of an Irish flair to the pronunciation to the last name. "As a former resident, allow me to welcome you to the Kitchen. May the heat from its coals be only pleasantly warm and never cause a burn while you reside here." He pauses, smile wavering for a moment before he chuckles, shaking his head, "That, probably sounded worse than it should."

April grinned upon hearing this and she shook her head. "It was lovely, in a strange sort of way." She told him. "I certainly won't forget it!" Her hand went back to her drink and she took another sip from it. "So is that what you do, Mike? Are you a poet of the night? Going to bars to bounce your test writings off of random women?" She turned the little straw around in her drink, stirring the ice and fruit inside of it.

The glass raises in a mock tone. "This sounds like a challenge." He leans back, studying April quietly for a moment. Before clearing his throat. "Siren of the night, clothed in jacket so yellow. Drink away your plight and hang out with this fellow?" He takes a sip. "Is that too much? Not enough? Do you mind filling out a questionaire at the end of this presentation?" He glances aside, shaking his head, "Close. I am a little bit of a performer."

The bartender snerks.

April heard this from the man and it made her laugh, quite amused. she glanced down at her ipad again and adjusted her glasses once more upon her nose. "I'd say that was a ten out of ten. But then again, I'm not a poetry expert." She said with a slight grin. "Entertainer, huh? I suppose I can see that. You have that 'air' about you, I would say. Good personality and all that. At least what I've seen of it up to this point, of course."

"A ten out of ten." Mike repeats, slowly, sharing a knowing glance to the bartender before turning to face his own drink, "Well, Miss O'Neil, our Yellow clad siren, If all my critics were like you, I would not have a thing to worry about for the years to come." He takes up his glass to take several sips of his beer.

April grinned at this and she sipped her drink once more. "Not everyone is as pleasant as I am, what can I say? Its a fault and a super power of mine." This was said with a smirk, since afterall she had no super-powers much to her chagrin. "As a reporter, I get quite a few foul things said about me as well. So I understand your suffering, good sir Mike."

Mike lowers his drink to give a seated bow towards the reporter. "Much obliged, my lady. May I ask that should there ever come a day where I grace your broadcast that my not quite so direct admission to underage drinking not be mentioned? It'd be old news anyways."

April laughed again and she shook her head. "I wouldn't dream of it." She told him. "Wronging people like that means that they'll never give you the time of day again. I'm not trying to cut connections this early in my career. I'm trying to -tie- them." She grinned at him. "So don't worry, MIke. Your secret is safe with me."

"Excellent." Mike replies, working on his drink. "Much obliged." He pauses, looking to the already half finished glass, "I like you much better than Miss Limon already."

This warranted another light laugh from the redhead. "I'm afraid to even ask." She told him as she stirred her drink again and glanced over at him. "Who is Miss Limon?" She asked anyway though.

Mike shakes his head smiling. "Old news." He replies, "And hopefully stays that way." He brings the glass up to drink away at his beer.

April smiled at him then and nodded a couple times. She pushed her drink glass forward then and pulled her ipad off of the counter. "Well, Mister Mike." She told him. "I better get home to my new place and get some rest for the morning. Gotta ride my bike and not get run over, right?" She grinned and ofered another handshake. "It was a pleasant chat though, thanks for not being a bar weirdo." She grinned at him too.

"One sec." Mike replies, pulling a pen out of his pocket and reaching over to grab a drink napkin, scrawling out a number on it before offering it over to April. "For Purely platonic, non-creepy reasons. Like say, you need to know where to find a good deal on some space saving furniture so you're not sleeping on an air mattress til the end of times nor being squished to death by oversized furniture. I've had to deal with that nightmare relatively recently."

April watched him as he scribbled the info down on the napkin and it made her smile. She reached her right hand up and brushed some of her loose fire-red hair out of her face and tucked it back behind her right ear. She accepted the napkin from him and she gave him a nice big smile and a little nod. "I appreciate your concern for me, Mike." She told him. "Once I'm ready to delve into buying stuff like that, I might just give you a shout. Afterall, you're a big tough guy right? I'm going to need some movers." She grinned at him then and turned to leave. "Nice meeting you." She said before going then for the door and offering a little wave.

Mike smiles, giving a wave in return, lingering at the bar with his still unfinished drink. "Til we meet again, Miss O'Neil." Sippity.


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