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THE FIRST STOP !

The two men seemed to be enjoying each other's company- the bartender responding to the question's answer with a hefty chuckle. It was a truth that neither one of them could deny; the fortitude of scotch whiskey. However, before the interaction could solidify, they would soon find themselves accompanied by a third party. It was a patron of the bar, a man whom neither of them had spoken to during his period of presence. Of course, the bartender would recognize him, having served him just a few minutes before, but this didn't necessarily warrant their friendship or a need to converse. The two men however would quickly notice the oncoming presence. It was an imposition, of course, all three of them knew that, but it was really only the bartender which would grow so openly vocal about it. Turning his head, and standing up straight once more, the bartender would cross his arms as he would appear to take the man in for what he was. A slender figure, his arms would nearly wrap around themselves before covering his torso. The snug fitting skull cap would lay leisurely atop his head, exposing the hints of gray that had begun to accumulate on the sides of his scalp. The dark bronze hair beneath the forest green cap would appear interesting in contrast with the dull blue outfit he had chosen to wear during most days at the inn. The denim shirt and denim jeans would appear as though real work man's wear, despite his relatively easy occupation.

Despite his actual agenda, his rugged look seemed to extend into his personality as well. Shifting his lips to the side, he would drink in the words of the stranger before actually speaking.

"Probably the same way that you can afford that one. What kinda ques-" He would say satirically, pointing his index finger lazily at the cup of sodapop which still rested on the counter top where the man was once sitting.

"I'm sure he meant to harm in it." The golden eyed man would announce, cutting the man off gently before he lost his composure. "Though the man has a point, there is no class in asking a man about his income." He would finish smugly, glancing over at the barkeep as he would take the short glass, finally within his grasp.

The liquor would stir around in the glass for a small bit before being raised to the sky, intending to cheers to no one in particular. The cool glass would touch his lips, and soon the pungent spice of the liquid would find its way to dancing roughly against Tadakatsu's tongue. It burned, harshly, grazing his lips as it would flow through his open cavity. Splashing against his lower teeth, they too would feel the spice of the age of such a powerful mixture of elements. It was nice, and as his tongue would press against the roof of his mouth, he would rotate it a number of times in order to progress the feeling of it. A powerful sip, and there was plenty more left for a second one as he would place it back against the wood of the bar counter, a small smirk crossing his face as he would feel the burn of the scotch spreading to his jaw. Lowering his eyes to the paper once more, he would fold it, and place it back onto the counter, aside the scotch. It was a great feeling, and one that he would be happy to share. It would become evident as he would once more take a grasp of the glass; this time however shoving it gently towards the curious man who had been so eager to know about the drink.

"I have yet to meet a real man who has said no to scotch. Let alone the 'Hindamaru, 50 year,' correct?" He would half declare, half ask, making sure that his tasting had yet to fail him.

The bartender would smirk at the guess, offering only a nod as he would wait for the stranger to try the second, and final sip. His eyes were wary, almost as if he didn't believe the man to deserve it. They however were contradicted by the piercing gaze of the young patron who would offer the drink. His face was serious, but sincere. It would be a waste of both hospitality and opportunity to deny the drink, and yet it was a major possibility.

FLASHBACK SEQUENCE!

There had been a persistent rain for at least a week now. The lights of occupied homes would beam into the street, echoed visually by the altering shape of the rain. The light would bounce from speck to speck until landing powerfully into the eyes of the men and women of this city. It wasn't too populated of a place, this neighborhood, but the residential feel made it seem a lot less populated than it actually was. The city itself was quite massive, alternatively. With an influence of money having been spread quite thin throughout the five portions of the town, the majority of it had landed to the north of this area, in the middle of down town. This southern portion of the city was much more docile. With little young adult life, the majority of it came from unruly adolescents; looking for ways to stay in or out of trouble. However, despite the mass of family apartments and occasional houses, there was also a small portion of property owned and rented by the young adults who mostly crowded the western portion of the city. If not owned by them, then it was, in rare cases, used as office or storage space by start up companies who had yet to find an office in the heart of downtown. Until then, there had been a complete lack of night life in this area. However, with the recent influx of young professionals, even this town was starting to become more familiar with an individual personality that larger cities were known for. Killing time, having drinks, watching movies and things of the like were starting to spread rapidly in all portions of the city. It was this area that proved to be the final bastion of this city however. So as the night fell with the rain, it was this recent activity that would counteract them.

A billow of smoke would escape the lips of one of the few women who circulated around this circle. A white lime sat at the brim of her mixed drink, as a small black straw protruded from the top. Her pencil skirt stretched around her legs, right above the two red knees which crossed over each other. Her feet would dangle back and forth as she kicked them softly, showing the anxiety that she was in the presence of someone so different[/]. Her lips pressed against each other as she puckered them in- a micro expression for what she was determined not to say. The eyes of her captive audience were hidden behind the sunglasses that were in no need to be worn. The blood red suit that was no where near professional enough for an office job clung to his rather muscular frame. His eyes, though hidden, had a certain presence to them that the women of this place could not help but investigate. However, while he wined and dined these marks with his mystique, there would be a slight difference coming from behind him. While they were fairly comfortable in their box seating, the rest of the patrons of this lounge would often find themselves in the booths and bars that were scattered around the massive room that once served as a hotel lobby. Down a flight of stairs consisting of only seven steps would be revealed two seperate bars on the opposite sides of each other. In between them would sit a myriad of circular tables with large, lofty furniture that was evidently reserved for those with either a dress or a suit jacket. There was a small population given the day of week, so there weren't many occupied tables. However the chocolate tables and almost brightly cast beige seating would have one seat, particularly close to this blood-soaked suit, which seemed to be occupied most subtly.

The pure white wool which coated his frame seemed to be in a constant state of melting. The captivating golden stare of his eyes would gleam into what appeared to be a rather slim book- easy reading for most. The title had been etched out by its own age and use, and as he would casually comfort himself with the company of a woman, they seemed to be rather detached from one another. Her slip on heels were a deep raspberry hue, which was offset by her eggshell white dress, backless and single shoulder strap. Her hair fell to her shoulders which seemed to express just how lengthy her caramel colored neck was. The ebony hair that shook with every turn of her head had obvious had much care, and the deep raspberry lipstick would seem to intensify the smokiness in her voice as she spoke to her counterpart.

"It's a real shame, this weather." She would brood, glancing at the window occasionally, then back at her date to see how he would respond.

"Yes, the concierge informed me that it has been going on for at least a week now. Nearly no sun. It really is a pity." He would say, obviously interested in the conversation, despite his eyes deadlocked on the literature in his lap.

Well I figured that since the Hooded Robe is made of fabric, and has B ranked protection, that this would be made from a similar cloth. I assumed that the composition didn't matter so much as the price/difficulty to attain.

That was the idea. A bit far-fetched, I know.