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All Out Of Blood
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July 11th, 1889 — The Golden Hearth Theatre

With tickets at a sickle a pop for the night's entertainment there was no telling what kind of riffraff the Golden Hearth would drudge up from the slums of Hogsmaede and beyond. However, one thing was certain: tonight hosted a mischievous bunch. During the opening act three blokes got into an all out fister that sent the lot of them over the balcony and crashing into a vacant table below them. Griphook didn't care what their excuse was, he wanted them out, and with a little effort on William's part that was that, oh but the trouble had just started.

The second act, the poor juggler got more than he could handle when rotten tomatoes went flying. This was all per norm if the audience didn't care for the view, but what wasn't expected was when one of the men turned to the bar where Nanny was dealing out the booze. "oy! Look at that! Reckon it's the ugliest thing I've ever seen!" Cried one man, his female companion laughed and chimed in, "Yeah! Let's dress her up!" And then the rotten produce went flying at poor Nanny, part hag and unable to help how she looked.  Griphook pulled out his wand and sent a few good rotten tomatoes flying back at them from the corner he stood in marking them in red, "Will get 'em outta here!" He barked, before going over to the bar to check on Nanny who was in quite a mood.

Meanwhile Felicity, hearing more commotion than usual moved to the front of house as the third act took stage, "What's all this?" She asked with a frown and a bit of concern at seeing Nanny all upset and covered in red gunk. Griphook was about to speak before Nanny shut him down, "Nothing, don't worry about it." She said in a bit of a huff. Felicity didn't quite believer her but with a breath gave a nod, "Well, good, because I've got three siamese sister acrobats fixing to go on that are in the middle of a breakdown because Missy's hair doesn't look like Milly and Molly's!" She rushed back stage and it was on with the show.

Nanny gave a smile and a nod, "Well on with it I say." She looked to Griphook who gave her another concerned look before going back to manning the front of house. The part hag gave a bit of a hmph her smile faltering as she went to scrub the bar with an old rag grumbling and muttering under her breath. She didn't take kindly to foul mouthed arses like the ones they had tonight, but she didn't want Miss Gallagher to be pulled away from the work at hand. Polish polish, scrub scrub. At least there would be one part of the wooden bar that would be squeaky clean.

Tag: @Ishmael

[Image: qEjS5UV.png]

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Sometimes one needed a little more entertainment than the Hog’s Head could offer.

It didn’t hurt, either, that the Golden Hearth allowed Ishmael to blend in still better; what was one vampire amongst a whole gaggle of halfbreeds and oddities? Almost no one would bother to notice him there. (Ishmael did like being noticed, usually, but one in a while - especially when debutantes had recently been discovered dead and drained - the anonymity was a relief.)

There had been other targets for people’s attentions tonight, it seemed, and not just those on stage either. Ishmael had only been half paying attention to the commotion, too lazy to actually get involved; instead, he waited until he thought it had all died down before he slunk over to the bar (in his own interests). He was thirsty. Either the bar would have something for him, or he would have to find a willing donor amongst the audience here tonight.

The part-hag, if that was what she was, at the bar had been drenched in red earlier. The tomato had struck something in Ishmael, stirred up memories of how he and his kind looked from time to time. Him, starving and messy in the woods of America, a little overeager in 1790s France here and there; he hadn’t seen his own reflection, of course, but he had always been able to imagine it - perhaps from seeing Azazel once upon a time, drenched in blood in a white nightgown like something truly unholy.

Ishmael settled on a barstool, not entirely able to suppress a smirk at the bartender, furiously scrubbing away. “You missed a spot,” he said nonchalantly, gesturing not at the bar but at her hair, where a streak of red still lingered.


#3
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Nanny shot the pale faced patron a glare as he pointed to her thinking it was another jab at her less than perfect complexion. "MISSED A SPOT!? MISSED A SPOT!? I'LL GIVE YOU A SPOT TO MISS!" She had enough, and she was going to show this leech and everyone else a thing or two, "You miserable leech! You long tooth corpse humper! You anemic twat--"

As Nanny went off on the poor wretch Griphook ran to the door heading to backstage, "Code Hag! Code Hag!" Felicity groaned. "What now?!" Her cheeks were beginning to flush a tender red as she stepped back out before the patrons who had now turned their gaze away from the stage and towards the bar. Her own eyes widened, "Oh no!" She quickly moved back stage and hoped to be able to make it around to the bar before--

Nanny pulled out her wand. It sparked and flared in the reflection of her anger. Granted this wasn't the woman's finest hour, but everyone had a breaking point. Felicity burst through the back door, "NANNY NO!" Was she too late?



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