(no subject)

[quick_clean_pure]

After his conversation with Baze, where Baze had recommended a couple of potential clients to him, Graverobber'd been itching to take advantage of those referrals. He'd given himself a few days to get acclimated to what, exactly, the bar was (and get something of a sense for what shit he could get away with) before he went to the bar top, ordered a drink, and left two notes behind.


Hey there,

I was speaking with some other members of the bar and heard that you're a guy who likes to experiment with some illicit shit. If that's the case, hit me up the next time you're at the bar, and we should have a chat. I might have some stuff you'd be interested in.

Signed,
Graverobber/that guy you thought was a vampire (I'm not)


Hello there,

We haven't met yet, but I'm one of the newer people to arrive at the bar. I've heard word that you're a guy who likes to experiment and might be looking or willing to buy some illicit shit. If that's true, I might have some stuff of interest to you. Leave a note if you are.

-G


Well, that was that. After that, all there was to do was wait for a response. He grabbed a coffee and a sandwich and then went to sit in one of the booths toward the back, settling in for a little while with a beat-up newspaper.


((The notes are for Cassidy and Wilford, but if anyone wants to approach Graverobber while/after he's leaving them at the bar, then they're more than welcome to!))

Comments

[irish_vagabond]

Cassidy shuffles downstairs looking groggy and grumpy, his clothes and hair as disheveled as usual. He's got his red mirrored sunglasses on because everything is just too damn bright (for normal people it's not, not really) and a half-smoked cigarette is dangling from his lips. Apparently he's slept like the dead (ha) through something, but he barely notices the waitrats sweeping broken drinkware from under the tables.

When he plops himself down on a barstool to order breakfast (who the hell knows what time it is), he also gets a note.

Ooh.

Okay.

Well.

Interesting.

He's a little weirded out that someone here is telling people he's a user, but okay, whatever. As long as they're not telling people he's a vampire. That would be a problem.

He takes a swig of breakfast whiskey from the bottle before requesting a pen and a piece of note paper.


Hey,

Sure, I'll take a look at what you got.

I'm the bloke in the shades if you're around. Follow the whiskey and the cigarette smoke.

Cheers,
Cassidy


Leaving the note for the bar or a waitrat to deliver, he tucks into his actual breakfast of a stack of waffles swimming in maple syrup.

[quick_clean_pure]

Graverobber just spends a while in his back booth, eating and idly looking over the news from his world ("AMBER SWEET TO DELIVER LIVE CONCERT FOR ADDICTION AWARENESS" Jesus fucking Christ, really). After a while, he's finished all the crumbs of his sandwich and crumpled the paper up into a little ball that he shoves into his coat pocket.

Before he goes to find the door back to his side of the universe, he checks the bar and finds, to his mild surprise, one of the notes has already been picked up. Well, that was easy enough. He grabs the note left for him and scans over it before glancing over the bar area.

He spots Cassidy easy enough, the smell of cigarettes being an easy trail to catch. Graverobber mosies over to where he's sitting, tapping the bar top near where Cassidy's perched eating breakfast.

"You must be Cassidy," he says with an easy enough tone. Nodding at the waffles he's devouring, he asks, "You got time to talk?"

[irish_vagabond]

"Aye, that's me--"

Cassidy turns to look at him, lowering his glasses down the bridge of his nose.

"Whoa. Is it Halloween already?"

[quick_clean_pure]

Graverobber arches an eyebrow at that.

"No, it's Christmas, and I'm the ghost of Junkies Past, Present, and Future. You want to talk or not?"

[irish_vagabond]

"....Shite."

His brows drawn in a frown, his eyes dart left and right.

"I knew they'd come for me sooner or later," he mutters conspiratorially to himself. Was he passed out that long? It's not unheard of, though he's never mixed magic mushrooms with cleaning products before.

"Right. Whatever you've heard, one: I didn't do it; two: it was just the one time, I swear; an' three: I'll pay them back, really, I will."

[quick_clean_pure]

Hoo boy. Graverobber raises both eyebrows at that, and then scoots to sit in on the stool next to him.

"Relax. The ghost of Junkies Past, Present, and Future is here to help. Or, more specifically, I can sell you shit if you're interested. You interested?"

[irish_vagabond]

Cassidy looks left and right and over his shoulder and scans the room before turning to the gothy ghost dude or whatever. A certain level of paranoia is healthy, okay.

"Of course I'm interested, aye," he says, his voice lowered. "What sort of shit you got?"

[quick_clean_pure]

Graverobber reaches inside his coat and flicks out a vial of zydrate. It glows a faint neon blue, the light coloring Graverobber's fingers as he holds it up.

"I've got his. Don't know if you've seen it where you're from. You ever heard of zydrate?"

[irish_vagabond]

"Holy shite, it fuckin' glows," he chuckles, peering at it over the rims of his shades. Clearly he's fascinated, and curious.

"Never heard of it. What's it s'posed to do?"

[quick_clean_pure]

"It fucking glows," Graverobber agrees, holding it up while still keeping it close in case Cassidy tries to snatch it from him. "It's a hardcore painkiller. They use it where I'm from to knock people out before surgery, then keep them from feeling a damned thing for days after. It's the kind of stuff that could numb an elephant."

[irish_vagabond]

"No kiddin'. Shite. That is fuckin' sordid right there. I've had horse tranqs but not elephant tranqs," he snorts with a gruff chuckle, as he slides his glasses off and hangs them on the neck of his t-shirt.

"So, what d'you do with it, then, d'you just, like, drink it straight, intravenous, mix it with something else? Drizzle it on a salad?"

[quick_clean_pure]

At the mention of trying out horse tranqs, Graverobber wonders if this dude isn't about to become his new best friend.

"Intravenous," he says. For a second, he tucks the vial back in his coat, sorting through his supplies while he speaks. "Either with a good old needle, or you can get it shot right in with one of these." Graverobber pulled out his zydrate gun, which looked not too dissimilar to a tattoo gun loaded up with glowing blue drugs instead of ink.

[irish_vagabond]

"Jaysus Christ, that's insane, and, I'm not gonna lie, actually really kinda cool."

Cassidy's idea of cool might be a little warped in some respects.

"So a customer could pay you to shoot 'em up right there on the spot? An' what's the dosage, is it one whole vial or is that s'posed to last you for a while?"

[cottoncandypink]

Well, this is odd indeed. Wilford's not used to dealers contacting him; it's usually the other way around.

He responds with his own note in turn.

If you're a cop, try harder.

[quick_clean_pure]

Oh, for fuck's sake. Graverobber's return note is scrawled hastily, with a tiny frowny-faced devil drawn in the corner.

Not even the most undercover of cops dress to look like me. I'm sitting in the back, just come over and say hi.

[cottoncandypink]

Eventually, Wilford does go look for him. Only because he's curious to see what prompts a dealer to advertise like this.

"You sure you're not a cop?" he asks as he slides into the seat across from Graverobber.

[quick_clean_pure]

"If I was a cop, I think I could afford nicer clothes. And better beer," he says, taking a sip of his coffee as Wilford slides in. Nodding at Wilford, he asks, "I heard from some of the other people here that you like to experiment with weed and harder stuff, is that true?"

[cottoncandypink]

Well, now who's been telling tales?

"Who?" Wilford asks.

They're not wrong, but you know. He'd like to know who's spreading his business around.

[quick_clean_pure]

Graverobber wears a wry smile as he answers, "Now, come on. Do you really want to be talking to the type of dealer who spills information about who they talk to to anybody who asks?" Not that Baze had seemed particular secretive, but he had professional standards to keep.

[cottoncandypink]

Ugh, dealers are the same everywhere.

"Well, lucky for you, I just moved to a new state and lost all my hookups. What do you got?"

[quick_clean_pure]

Graverobber reaches into his coat and flicks out a vial of zydrate, which glows a pulsing blue. He holds it up and close, fingers tight around the glass. "I got this. Dunno if your version of Earth has it. Have you ever heard of zydrate?"

[cottoncandypink]

"Nope."

Wilford leans in to get a better look of it, knowing better than to reach out for it just yet.

"What is it? A synthetic?"

[quick_clean_pure]

"Nah, nothing like that," he said. Graverobber holds it up so Wilford can see it clearly, but still close enough to snatch back if he tries anything. "It's heavy-hitting painkiller. They use it where I'm from to put people under for surgery so they can get sewn up and not feel a thing, even after it's over. Like morphine gone berserk, basically."

[cottoncandypink]

Wilford leans back and shakes his head. "Not my thing," he says.

He knows a few people who might be into it, but he's not going to tell this guy that. He'll do it the right way, and bring it up with them so they can do the asking.

"That all you got?"

[quick_clean_pure]

Graverobber shrugs. "It's what I got," he says, withdrawing the vial and palming it back into the inside of his coat. "I'm not a man of variety, so that's all I have. If you don't want it, then that's all right."