Dealing with Drunks [Mission]
Dec 31, 2012 6:59:00 GMT -8
Post by randgris on Dec 31, 2012 6:59:00 GMT -8
The sun had just set over Kusagakure and the streets were lit with artificial light and the pale moon. Foot traffic ebbed from steady stream to a mere droplet and all was nice and quiet. On a night like this, Randgris would have enjoyed a nice book and a nice cup of tea before retiring. But duty called.
He glimpsed at the piece of paper containing his mission again. Cleaning up the potentially violent rabble from various bars. Well, not exactly terrible but Randgris dreaded potentially injuring someone for drunken foolishness. He slowly but surely made his way to the nearest bar, having to stop and ask for directions once. The sign outside hung just above the door and in plain, large print read 'Welcome to the Drunken Dew Drop!' and as a small attachment via a piece of crumpled paper, 'Please, no fighting! Know when to say enough is enough' and a crude drawing of two people with fists raised with an X above them.
Well, that was easy. The thought of just how many pubs were plagued by this type of dilemma touched briefly on his mind but he forced it aside. He'd deal with this problem and hopefully word would spread that Shinobi were being called in to deal with any violent drunks.
Pushing open the large door brought on a myriad of sights, sound and smells. A mixture of both pleasant and unpleasant. The decor was fairly simple, the bar was crowded with people who were looking for a drink. A scattered lot of tables held the attention of patrons who were looking for a more 'private' (if that word could be used in such a setting) to talk, drink and enjoy their time with friends or whoever else they brought with them. The air was a combination of must, booze and human scent. It was unpleasantly pleasant, Randgris found. It beat the smell of despair, at least. Laughter, complaints, and various other bits and bites of conversation exploded outward but was subtly drowned in a pleasant score of music playing from speakers in each corner. A set of stairs led up into a dimly lit second floor. Presumably to some rooms for the patrons who wanted to sleep. Though who could in this noise was a mystery in and of itself. Perhaps the alcohol helped.
Nobody paid him any mind as he stepped in, making sure to close the door behind him. Well, one person did. A burly bouncer with a shaven head and gruff features bounded up to him.
"Hey, this ain't no place for kids." He began, his voice was raised, not to threaten but to overcome the noise of the establishment.
Randgris removed the sheet of paper, the approval stamp standing out.
The man leaned in to read the paper and a deep frown crossed his face briefly though he said nothing. "Wait 'ere." He bounded off toward the bar, parting the crowd with massive hands. This place must be quite troublesome and Randgris briefly wondered what type of rowdy drunks could overcome the man or if he was all looks. A few minutes passed before the man returned and stated, "A'right, you can stay. No alcohol though." That was a given.
The man trotted off to his position by the bar. That must be a trouble spot. Randgris made his way politely, albeit cautiously, through the crowd to the far end of the bar opposite the door. He drew stares as he went, knowing full well that it wasn't the sword at his side or the piece of metal that held his allegiance, but rather his looks. He was severely out of place here. That's fine. If he could deter a drunk from violence, he could manage the stares and whispers. Though he wagered it was the fact that he looked young and was allowed inside.
Now to wait...and wait. He briefly wished he brought a book.
He glimpsed at the piece of paper containing his mission again. Cleaning up the potentially violent rabble from various bars. Well, not exactly terrible but Randgris dreaded potentially injuring someone for drunken foolishness. He slowly but surely made his way to the nearest bar, having to stop and ask for directions once. The sign outside hung just above the door and in plain, large print read 'Welcome to the Drunken Dew Drop!' and as a small attachment via a piece of crumpled paper, 'Please, no fighting! Know when to say enough is enough' and a crude drawing of two people with fists raised with an X above them.
Well, that was easy. The thought of just how many pubs were plagued by this type of dilemma touched briefly on his mind but he forced it aside. He'd deal with this problem and hopefully word would spread that Shinobi were being called in to deal with any violent drunks.
Pushing open the large door brought on a myriad of sights, sound and smells. A mixture of both pleasant and unpleasant. The decor was fairly simple, the bar was crowded with people who were looking for a drink. A scattered lot of tables held the attention of patrons who were looking for a more 'private' (if that word could be used in such a setting) to talk, drink and enjoy their time with friends or whoever else they brought with them. The air was a combination of must, booze and human scent. It was unpleasantly pleasant, Randgris found. It beat the smell of despair, at least. Laughter, complaints, and various other bits and bites of conversation exploded outward but was subtly drowned in a pleasant score of music playing from speakers in each corner. A set of stairs led up into a dimly lit second floor. Presumably to some rooms for the patrons who wanted to sleep. Though who could in this noise was a mystery in and of itself. Perhaps the alcohol helped.
Nobody paid him any mind as he stepped in, making sure to close the door behind him. Well, one person did. A burly bouncer with a shaven head and gruff features bounded up to him.
"Hey, this ain't no place for kids." He began, his voice was raised, not to threaten but to overcome the noise of the establishment.
Randgris removed the sheet of paper, the approval stamp standing out.
The man leaned in to read the paper and a deep frown crossed his face briefly though he said nothing. "Wait 'ere." He bounded off toward the bar, parting the crowd with massive hands. This place must be quite troublesome and Randgris briefly wondered what type of rowdy drunks could overcome the man or if he was all looks. A few minutes passed before the man returned and stated, "A'right, you can stay. No alcohol though." That was a given.
The man trotted off to his position by the bar. That must be a trouble spot. Randgris made his way politely, albeit cautiously, through the crowd to the far end of the bar opposite the door. He drew stares as he went, knowing full well that it wasn't the sword at his side or the piece of metal that held his allegiance, but rather his looks. He was severely out of place here. That's fine. If he could deter a drunk from violence, he could manage the stares and whispers. Though he wagered it was the fact that he looked young and was allowed inside.
Now to wait...and wait. He briefly wished he brought a book.