The Beast and the Barkeep (Mega and ask)

It was an ordinary night at Sol’s Bar and Grill. Patrons talked, drank, ate, and laughed as they enjoyed the establishment in the company of its owner - a being who they regarded as a hero in his own right. The bell attached to the front door chimed as the door opened, letting in a cool gust of early evening winter air. A truly massive set of fingers gripped the top of the doorframe and the view of the outside world was blocked entirely by a being someone could be forgiven for thinking was a bear. As it turned to one side and squeezed its bulk through the doorway, the beast turned out to be a man. Albeit a colossal man wearing furs over an outfit that looked like it belonged at a renaissance festival. As he allowed the door to close behind him and stood to his full height, it became apparent that he was armed. Some kind of fusion of axe and gun was strapped to his back. The weapon was sized for him, meaning that it too, was colossal. His left hand had a strange gauntlet of a silvery metal. It had obviously seen a lot of use, as it was almost as scarred as the man himself. A trio of dead rabbits hung from his waist by their rear legs, though compared to the man they looked more like small hamsters. He was covered in various pouches, pockets, and sheaths, and just about all of them looked like they were filled with some odd or end. His craggly face had been a mask of dark annoyance, but now it scrunched slightly as his brow furrowed and his nostrils flared as if he were sniffing the air. He slowly looked around the room and the corner of his mouth curled up into a slight snarl as his gaze fixed on the bartender, revealing a canine tooth that was more like a wolf’s fang.

Malich froze at the sight of the thing behind the bar. Some kind of fire elemental? Here in the middle of this massive city? His hand twitched toward the handle of Auftlein, but he stopped himself. Something was odd. Nobody else was giving it a second glance. In fact, almost everyone in the bar was staring at him instead. Perhaps it just worked here, as strange as that notion was. He sniffed again. He could smell the various humans packed inside, and the delicious aromas from their plates, but he couldn’t get a good scent of the creature. The other countless scents in the room muddied it too much at this distance. He considered leaving. He didn’t trust whatever this thing was, and certainly didn’t like that it was made of flame. The darkness within him agreed. Leave this place. But he’d already come this far. He let out a small grunt of annoyance that sounded like something between a short growl and a sigh. He’d only just arrived in this city after all, and already it had proven utterly strange to him. One more oddity really wasn’t that much of a stretch. Even if this one was made of fire.

He strode over to the bar, his heavy boots landing much more softly than someone of his size would normally make: like a large predator stalking through the night. He arrived at the bar, never taking his eyes off of the strange barkeep. He placed his right hand on the bartop as he leaned in to be slightly closer to a conversational height and though it creaked under his weight, the sturdy wood held strong. He wasn’t trying to damage anything after all. He also seemed to be keeping his distance slightly, coming close enough to converse but staying far enough away that the barkeep would have to move to reach him. Even for someone who couldn’t read body language he seemed wary, like a wild animal being offered food but ready to leap away at any moment. He took a long, slow sniff. No, this thing wasn’t some powered human like he’d seen around the city. Or at least if it was, there was no body under that flame that he could smell. He grunted as he let out the breath he’d taken in before speaking with a deep gravelly voice like a pair of bricks grinding together.

“What manner of creature are you?”

Malich had found this place from the smell of food and drink, and had entered with both in mind. Though the claustrophobic interior bothered him, it wasn’t exactly easy to get a chef prepared meal and good strong booze out in the wild. He’d just finished a long journey, and figured he deserved the treat. As an added bonus, people seemed to be giving him a wide berth which helped ease his discomfort of being inside a little. But for the moment, all of that had been forgotten. He wanted to be sure this thing, whatever it was, posed him and anyone else no threat.

Sol's bar had really taken off in the past week or so- due massively to his assistance in offering sanctuarary to people during the Giant Skeleton attack, and also assisting the titans in putting down said giant skeleton. Even before that, his bar had been growing in popularity because of the simple fact you wouldn't be able to find another place owned and ran by a literal fireman. Course it was another matter for people to really understand him verbally, not because he was quiet- but just because he lacked the necessary parts to communicate in a manner that humans could understand. Then he became business partners with the owner of Sconehenge, which... further seemed to increase the traffic- like that Living Dead girl who dropped by every once in awhile with her "eccentricities." Daniella liked her though, and also seemed to be the only one between the two of them who seemed to understand what silly references she was making; anime or something.

And of course there was a certain green haired woman that dropped in surprisingly less often than he originally anticipated- he wasn't complaining, he didn't want her to drink all of his alcohol in one sitting. Irregardless, he had different kinds of people who came in. Some he was less pleased with than others, though it was rare- and people typically didn't try starting anything with someone literally made of fire. Not even DOMA, who he had a few regulars from. It could have likely just been a subtle way to keep an eye on him, which how one decided whose turn it was to go watch someone at a bar I couldn't tell you; maybe it was like a raffle.

It had gotten so busy these days that he actually had to hire some additional employees- two bussers/servers, and an assistant cook. Had to do alittle remodeling too. So when Malich walked in, Sol turned his attention toward the door and saw him- Sol just blinked. When was the last time he had seen a bear? No wait, it was a man. Sol wasn't the only one to have looked, the patrons seemed to all be... curious to put it gently. The man equally seemed... wary of where he was, and Sol noted his hand moving. He was also carrying weapons, and had almost as many pockets as Diana did. The giant bear-man didn't look like he was trying to start anything, so Sol put it out of his mind for the moment and just went back to his work as Malich made his way over.

Once Malich had more or less made himself acceptable tolerable, he asked the question which nearly every newcomer had asked since he opened the place. Sol had gained enough practice trying to respond to the question to utter the following, "...ire... iri..." would come out in a soft, wispy voice admist the heave and sigh of the flames making his body. It wasn't impossible to guess what he was saying exactly given Malich's expertise. Sol then pulled out a menu and offered it to him, which Malich would instantly notice wasn't instantly on fire or anything. In order for one to run an establishment without burning it down, it either had to be fireproofed, or Sol could contain the higher extremes of his flames' heat.

Malich’s brow furrowed as the thing spoke. Or at least tried to. Definitely not human. Some might have had trouble picking up the soft tones, but they were perfectly audible and clear to Malich’s keen ears. It apparently had trouble speaking, though seemed to have quite a lot of practice with this phrase. Working in a public establishment like this, Malich figured that wasn’t exactly surprising. That was fair. He himself was a man of few words. “Ire irit” it had said. It wasn’t hard to figure out what it meant. It was a Fire Spirit. A being from one of the elemental planes. Damn hard to kill if you didn’t have a good source of water. He pushed back his memories when he realized he’d been staring off into space for a moment. In any case, this one seemed tame. There was no harm in making an honest living, no matter your species. Malich could respect that. He remained wary, but now that the immediate threat had been addressed, his stomach and the menu the creature had placed in front of him reminded him of why he’d entered in the first place.

He leaned his head to one side and slightly back to scratch at his rough beard, inadvertently showcasing the sharp black claw-like nails as he scanned over the menu. It was strange to see a place with so many choices. He was more used to being served whatever the cook was making that day and having a choice between whiskey, rum, or ale. This place had dozens of meals and a truly remarkable selection of alcohol, several kinds of which he’d never even heard of. He briefly wondered what the numbers meant beside each item. They reminded him of prices, but they weren’t in any denomination he knew of. One item was eight. Eight what? Copper? Gold? Furs? He fell back on an old standard: Bartering. He reached down and undid the rope holding the rabbits to his waist, keeping them tied together. He dropped them on the bartop in front of the fire spirit. “What will that get me?” He normally would have offered two and held one back to negotiate with but he wanted this conversation, if it could be called that, over with as soon as possible so he wouldn’t have to be this close to the living flame for any longer than necessary. “I’d like something to eat, preferably meat, preferably juicy. And something strong to wash it down.”

Sol waited patiently for Malich's response, using the moment to... make some fair assessments of this customer. He didn't often do this but it wasn't often that people wearing outdated attire walked into his bar- he was in a day and age where he could own a bar! It did spark an old memory or two. He had seen- or more accurately had descriptions that could have resembled what he was wearing. He also did take note of the black claw-like nails. He was sure there was a creature that should be coming to mind but he had spent more time in his own elemental plane than this material one. Then Malich put down the rabbits which he had around his waist onto the bartop, unnerving nearby patrons more than they already were. Did he not have any money in any of those pockets? Sol blinked and quickly disregarded that thought- Diana rubbed off on him alittle it seemed.

Sol in return stracthed his own chin, or rather did the motions of that as if trying to think about whether or not to even take the offer. Bartering was a very old and outdated system. Just like the last time he could remember the visage of Malich's attire, it had been so long since anyone had tried to offer any compensation through goods. With how good business was, he wasn't exactly hurting for money, and meat for meat was an acceptable trade. Maybe he could make a stew with the meat? He'd have to get them skinned first though. Which he could actually do after making alittle room. Sol would disappear behind the counter for a moment and dig into a cooler marked "The Ally Box." Ice was... the lesser of two evils, and solid or not it still made him nervous dealing with it.

Sol came back up with a bottle of Fire Jack- suggested to him by Ally, who thought it was funny because... he's fire. She had even taken to calling him it every so often like the oddball she was. Sol would take two of the rabbits, consider the third for a moment before sliding it more toward Malich to let him know he could keep it. Sol would then take the menu back and find a picture of a juicy looking burger and point to it for Malich's consideration.

Malich watched as the spirit mimicked his motion. He briefly wondered if it was mocking him, but when it dropped behind the counter and returned with a bottle of alcohol, he figured that wasn’t likely. Perhaps it’s an attempt to make people more comfortable with it? He wondered to himself. When he saw the bottle and read the name, he let out an amused snort. Fire Jack? Someone has a sense of humor. He’d lifted the bottle and was inspecting the label when the spirit slid the third rabbit back toward him. He placed the bottle back on the bartop in front of him and looked at the picture the bartender was now pointing to. It was some kind of unholy abomination of at least two meats, melted cheese, and to his slight disdain, vegetables of some kind: all sandwiched between some kind of special bread. It looked like nothing he’d ever seen before. It looked amazing. He nodded slowly. “Ay-yeah. That’d do.” He was still staring, transfixed, at the picture as he took the remaining rabbit and refastened it to his waist. He shook himself out of his minor trance and spared a glance around. Many of the patrons hastily tried to pretend they hadn’t been openly staring.

It seemed for whatever reason his transaction had caused those closest to scooch a little bit away. He couldn’t fathom why, but that was fine by him. For someone so used to the outdoors, just being in the mass of concrete and metal of the city was unnerving, let alone in a crowded bar. The extra space was certainly appreciated, though he did his best not to show it. He glanced at the stools. Even if they could hold his weight, they were nowhere near sized for his bulk, and would likely be very uncomfortable. Becoming even more uncomfortable was the last thing he needed, so he opted to remain standing. He rose back to his full height and picked up the bottle once more.

It was cold, as if the spirit had kept it in a chilled storage container. And now that he thought about it, he had heard a bunch of rattling when the spirit ducked behind the counter, as if it had been sifting through a great many small rocks. It was an odd thought, cold booze. Especially with a name like Fire Jack. He gingerly popped the top off and took a careful sniff, well aware that powerful booze could wreak havoc on his keen sense of smell. It smelled vaguely chemical, but then so did almost everything in this city. It also smelled strongly of cinnamon and a blend of whiskey that he didn’t recognize. He took a sip and coughed, not because it was too strong for him, but because it was sweet - far more so than he’d been expecting. But the cinnamon flavor, as artificial as it tasted, paired well with the comforting burn that followed the alcohol and the whiskey itself wasn’t half bad. It certainly wasn’t something he’d normally get, but it was growing on him as he took subsequent drags. He could see it being particularly enjoyable on a cold night. He gave a grunt and a nod of thanks to the barkeep and leaned against a nearby wall while he waited for his food, letting his gaze wander about the room.

Sol nodded and took the remaining two rabbits- slipping into the back after storing them as properly as one could a spur of the moment perishable. He'd actually use them once he was done with Malich's order, which his assistant started for him before he returned. As for the rest of the bar, Malich's pressence seemed to ironically be the oddest thing here. Sol meanwhile would be busy himself with cooking, which being made of fire definitely made it easier. His assistant would deal with any wet ingredients for the patties. Sol wasn't a stranger with working along side other people in the kitchen when he used to serve Ally's extended family. Still, he preferred to be self-reliant and only sought help when he felt like he actually needed it.

He had also been understandably hesitant to hire just anyone with Daniella around, and his being an oddity of sorts. So far things were working out, dishes came and went quickly and he hadn't noticed anything to draw his concern. Then after a short time later, Sol would present Malich his order- which was as picture exact as it could be, because Sol cared about such things. It also came with some fries, a staple really- not counting people asking for cheese sauce, which was clearly overkill for a burger like this. He'd probably actually get those rabbits butchered later after hours to avoid making people any more uncomortable than they already were.

Malich didn't like the stares he was getting. Being the center of attention had always bothered him, even before. Once he'd inherited his curse, it had only bothered him more. It had taken a long time to cage himself enough to keep from attacking people uncontrollably, especially when they'd stared at him. He'd been a young man then. So very long ago. He was older now, and much less prone to outbursts of violence. Still, the stares weren't helping. Especially when he remembered that he was in the middle of some gigantic monolithic city, where everything was loud and chemical, and even the plants were structured and ordered. He shook his head as he pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind. No need to rattle the cage, so to speak.

He perked up when he heard the fire spirit approaching and smelled what it was carrying. The picture didn't even begin to do it justice. Malich stared, enraptured, as the barkeep placed the plate down for him. He had no idea what the strange sticks that came with his meal were, but they smelled like potatoes. He saw the vegetables and realized that his mouth had been hanging slightly open. His jaws clamped shut and he gingerly picked up one of the buns so that he could peel off the offending plant matter. He placed it to the side and put his burger back together. He looked at it from one side, then the other, not sure how best to start with such a monstrosity. And the SMELL. It was amazing. He couldn't describe it, but it was nearly overwhelming. His mouth was watering nearly to the point of drooling. Finally, he gingerly scooped up the burger in one hand and took a messy bite.

By the Gods below, above, and beyond. What WAS this? He'd thought the smell was unbelievable, but it was put to absolute shame by the taste. He closed his eyes as he chewed. Nothing he'd eaten compared to this… This… THING. In moments, the rest of the burger was obliterated as he scarfed it down at an alarming rate and with an energy that bordered on desperate. Upon finishing the burger, he started licking at his hands and fingers where the juice had gotten on them. A moment later, he'd scoured the taste of burger from them and a look of crushing disappointment crossed his face, like a puppy who'd lost his favorite bone. As quickly as it had arrived, it was replacement by one of curious wonder as he remembered the rest of his plate. That's right! He had more. He leaned in and sniffed the fries. He picked up a single fry and gave it a long sniff. Potato stick.

He gingerly took a bite from it. His eyes widened almost immediately and he shoved the other one into his mouth in a blur almost too fast to track. Almost all of the remaining fries had been scooped up in one massive fistful and shoved into his mouth before he'd even finished chewing. GOOD POTATO STICK

He chewed messily, dropping the occasional fry back onto his plate by accident. What was in this food? He'd never had such flavor! He knew of some towns with those who'd learned that some plants made food taste better, but salt was the only true seasoning he knew of and he rarely used it unless he needed meat to last longer.

In a scant few moments, he was licking the plate in a vain attempt to get even just a few scraps more. Disappointed, he put the spotless plate down and glanced around, suddenly all too aware of the stares from his fellow patrons. He quickly composed himself and took a long drag from the bottle of Fire Jack. "Ahem. Yeah. That was alright."

Though it was virtually impossible to tell from a glance how old Sol was, he had seen quite enough in his life time to take things as they came. From the heated, often deadly interactions with his fellow kinsmen in the plane of fire, to surviving the death rain known as... rain, and his previous employment under a half-demon sorceress. He had come to realize that it was for those reasons that he felt comfortable in Jump City, which had it's own oddities which by comparison seemed perfectly normal to him. Even still, Sol couldn't help but watch with surprise and shock at the animalistic ferocity that Malich devoured his meal, only to be replaced by a bemused look of his eyes- Sol doesn't technically have a mouth so his eyes were the only expressive feature on his face. Sol nodded to Malich after he was done, taking the plate and setting it into the sink for his assistant to put through the wash- there wasn't anything left for him to enjoy anyway.


It was then that the bell chimed at yet another patron walking inside, this young man also stuck out like a sore thumb solely due to the fact that his hair was white as snow. His eyes also seemed to glowly slightly unnaturally. What also probably made him stick out besides the DOMA combat attire he wore merely to say, "yes, I work within DOMA," was probably the iron looking lantern at his hip. Hans stood just inside for a moment, looking about the room much in the same fashion as Malich did a moment ago until he caught sight of Sol. His expression hardened with discomfort as the spirit that shared his body seethed with anger and discomfort. "Pray conclude thy business so we may not dwell within this den of devils and sinners longer than necessary," the spirit mentally rasped within Hans' mind. Even in death, he was still scared of alittle fire huh? He felt the spirit's ire increase at this thought before he pushed it aside and slowly made his way up to the bar. Come to think of it, the bear-man at the bar also caught his eye. Not simply for the obvious reasons; but also for the reason that Hans could tell there was... something not right with him just by looking at him. Not in a "he looks sick, evil or whatever" kind of way. It was just part of the gift of having an eye for the supernatural.

Hans felt a cold sweat coming on from the spirit's trepidation with the fiery spirit behind the bar as he tried his best to put it out of his mind and found himself a seat by the bearman- evidently no one really wanted to sit close to him which was convenient for his needs. Now that he was so close, Hans actually found it... difficult to look at Sol without squinting on account of what he was. Sol was fire, which already gave off some light- but the fire was his SOUL more or less, so it looked that more vibrant to him. Sol offered him a wave and a menu. "None for me sir, thank you but I'm here on official business," Hans said simply, noticing one of his hands started trembling. Damned spirit.

Sol blinked at him and tilted his head quizically, not verbally responding but the gesture was evidently him enabling Hans to go on. "My name is Hansel Alexander Morte, and I'm primarily here in Jump City investigating the matter of the giant skeleton which ravaged it not too long ago- of which I am told you assisted the teen titans in stopping," Hans introduced himself, foregoing the handshake for... obvious reasons. Sol simply nodded- this lack of communication was going to make this whole process take longer than Hans or his spirit wanted.