CLAIRE E. ST. CLAIRE doesn't have a custom title currently.
Location: New York City, U.S.
Born: No Information
Website: No Information
Codename: No Information
Want Ad: No Information
Other: Owner of Inanimatum.
Joined: 11-September 17
Status: (Online) (Reading Board Index)
Last Seen: 2 minutes ago
Local Time: Feb 23 2018, 09:07 PM
24 posts (0.1 per day)
( 0.39% of total forum posts )
Feb 8 2018, 06:47 PM
"--Ohh my god, thanks for pulling over. Christ, it's awful out there."
Into a random taxi cab, on a terribly rainy day, Claire the bartender spilled.
Things hadn't been going so well for her that morning. She'd taken the day off, which meant she was stepping outside her usual routine, the first mistake of the day. Following that, she'd made the decision to meet her friend @MELISSA GOLD at a hole-in-the-wall Mexican place for lunch, had consequently had to wait over an hour for the bluenette to show up, and as a result, didn't make it home before the rain in the forecast came pouring down over New York City.
As one could predict, the crowds on the streets surged into all available cabs once the waterworks really started ramping up, and Claire had contemplated actually murdering someone on purpose in the interest of getting a ride of her own. Fortunately, she hadn't had to result to that; a cab at the very last moment instead pulled around the corner, and she'd hailed it with every ounce of damsel she could muster.
At least she wasn't wearing white. The woman in the back seat of the cab sighed, pulled her gray sweater closer around herself, and peered into the rear-view mirror to meet the driver's eyes.
"Um, I need to get to Brooklyn. You know where the CVS is on 112th? Start heading toward there, please. Thanks."
She sighed and flopped back against the seat, short-cropped locks clinging to her temples and forehead. The leftovers in her bag would hopefully be OK at the end of the trip, and as she buckled her seat belt, she was very grateful indeed that she'd settled on a salad and not the grilled cheese.
Nov 11 2017, 12:05 PM
"TGIF" was not a phrase in Claire's wheelhouse.
"Thank god it's Saturday morning before anyone rowdy wants to come in get drunk," however, was, and it was exactly the sentiment she felt as she finished up her first smoke of the day in the alley next to Inanimatum. So far, her morning had been relatively normal; no subways had collapsed underfoot, she wasn't being actively harassed by a lunatic with an eyepatch, and Melissa Gold hadn't inexplicably destroyed the sidewalk out front in a fit of... alcoholism, basically. All in all, just another day in a series that was far too often interrupted by the rest of the world going completely insane around her.
That said, she didn't trust it to stay that way for long. The waif-like brunette breathed out her last puff through her nose, sighed a little, and stubbed her blunt out on the brick siding of the club. Time to get back inside; the regulars were hanging out at the bar, and while she trusted them to more or less take care of themselves, she didn't like leaving them alone for too long. Criminals had a tendency to get up to exactly what you expected when supervision was absent.
With a little shiver - it was that time of year, unfortunately - she wrapped her coat tightly around herself and trudged out front to make sure nothing was happening before going back inside.
After all, this was New York City. A day like any other could change in a moment's notice, and she'd had enough unusual visitors lately that she wasn't taking any chances with loiterers.
... Unfortunately, today's loiterer appeared to be a homeless man getting ready to piss on her club. Literally.
"Dude," Claire sighed, standing a good five feet away from the stranger on her sidewalk - out of range."Really? It's like nine a.m."
Oct 13 2017, 10:41 AM
Nestled in the heart of a somewhat-seedy neighborhood, Inanimatum had, over the years, become a staple for a particular brand of clientele in Brooklyn.
The club itself was a bit hard to find, which had resulted in a few clueless hipsters visiting now and then. This, according to its owner, was fair enough; it didn't actually have a sign, something that naturally led to curiosity from the barhopping crowd, although in this case said curiosity was only met with disappointment when they tried to sweet-talk the bouncer outside the cold, metal door leading into the club proper. On the outside, it looked like any old brownstone building, maybe even a small apartment complex. The sidewalk out front was new, but its surface marred with a few paw prints from a wayward dog that had made its way through the concrete when it was still wet.
Said dog was actually inside at the moment, lounging at the end of the bar while the club's owner mixed one drink after another and mingled casually with the myriad number of patrons wading nearby in search of alcohol. Claire looked in her element: she had the respect of the men and women surrounding the bar, but she still managed to joke and smile with them, albeit in her own, curt way. The club was bustling with customers that night, and she didn't have all the time in the world to chitchat - go figure that word of Songbird's fight tonight would draw in such a crowd.
The ring was more than ready. As she scooped ice out of the icebox and into a blender behind the bar, Claire glanced up and triple-checked everything once more. Almost all of the seats near the ring - which was located in the center of the club, a few rows of tables away from the bar - were taken in anticipation of the fight to come. It wasn't every day you got to watch a superhero fight, and even rarer still when that superhero was, well, "one of us," even if she was technically working for "the man" now. An excited thrum of conversation buzzed through the entire establishment.
"Need a break?"
Claire nearly leapt out of her skin. She caught herself - much to the amusement of one of the patrons, who she stuck her tongue out at playfully - and sighed, looking up at her other bartender, Afu the Samoan. He was huge, handsome, and had almost definitely appeared on a few romance novel covers in his college years.
"Jesus, Af, sneakiness isn't usually proportionate to someone's size, you know," the brunette puffed. "Uh, yeah, probably. Melissa's due to come out in about five minutes, the ring announcer's about to start hyping the crowd by the looks of things."
Afu laughed, affable as ever, and gently ushered her away. "Go take off. I can handle these misfits."
It was deeply unfair that he was as handsome as he was nice, Claire thought, but she said, "Whatever. I gotta make sure Susan doesn't play 'All Star' for her opening music again. I'll be back in a little bit."
A brief, tight-lipped smile was passed Afu's way - a quiet thank you - and then Claire slid into the crowd and made her way toward the DJ, nestled in the corner. This was going to be quite the show.
| OOC Note: Hi all! This thread is semi-open. If you have a character of shady persuasion, feel free to join in. <3 If you're not sure, PM me or poke me in cbox. I think I'll let in one "good guy" to scope the place out, first come first serve. c: General types of people here would be contract killers, morally gray people, and most importantly, people who wouldn't call the police on this place LOL. Cheers and have fun! <3
Oct 12 2017, 03:28 PM
Hell is public transit.
This was especially true for Claire, who had taken the afternoon off from managing Inanimatum in order to enjoy a little time to herself for a change. Evidence of the way she'd spent the last few hours could be found in the large shopping bag she carried, which, given the waif-like nature of her frame (at least she wasn't short), stood out sorely against her.
Fortunately, the subway platform she occupied wasn't too busy. It wasn't quite rush hour yet, being about 2:40 p.m., and since it was a Thursday, the crowds that one typically expected to find in a New York subway hadn't filtered in. Perhaps twenty other people stood on her side of the platform, all spread out, and a similar situation held true for the opposing side as well.
Good. Claire had never been a people person, a fact she advertised to everyone around her based on looks alone; she wore dark clothing, not quite goth, and held herself with a degree of caution and, at times, disgust in regards to those around her. This unwelcome demeanor served her well as she flipped through her phone, sunglasses on despite technically being indoors, ignoring everyone around her.
A glance through her text messages revealed not the barren landscape she would have liked, but several new messages from staff and five from Alcolissa (which was how she referred to @MELISSA GOLD when the blunette was inebriated).
"God," she muttered under her breath. Her thumb wandered over an older conversation lower on the list - hovering for just a moment - and then she abruptly locked her phone, shoved it into her pocket and pursed her lips so she could stare angrily at her feet for the next few minutes until her train arrived.
At least, that's what she would have done, had a spiderweb of cracks not started to form in the tiles beneath her shoes. She blinked. Mouth opened in surprise. Contemplated every line, brow furrowed while she watched them spread progressively outward... Weird.
Weird could only mean one thing: Either some shit was about to go down, or she was about to make herself look really, really crazy.
Without wasting another second, she grabbed the arm of the person standing next to her and dove to the side just in time for a thunderous rrrrrUUUUMMMMBBLLEEEEeee to sound off below them, deep in the bowels of the subway system itself. By now, her instincts for "superheroes are doing awful shit" had been finely tuned, and any sign of potential madness sent her straight into flight mode - which, as she was about to learn, wasn't always a good thing.
She hit the tiles, and the man she grabbed fell alongside her, cussing and confused.
Nothing happened, and worse still, almost everyone was staring at her now, aside from a few people who were investigating the source of the thunderous boom from below.
"What the FUCK, lady?!" the man beside her snapped as he stumbled to his feet.
Claire, humiliated, slowly pushed herself into a seated position and contemplated the assault charges that would surely come against her.
"Uh... I... sorry, I thought something was happening, like... you know... it usually does--"
And then, the platform gave way beneath them.