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Christophe smiled at Tank's jest, and sat at the bar. "I'll take anything that get me drunk fast and burn on the way down." He grinned wryly, and watched Tank.

He had seen Tank put his hand to his temple at the same time the pain had lanced through his own head. "I wonder if he recognizes me?" he thought. "No, that's impossible. If he did, he wouldn't be here. He must not remember anything either. I still don't really remember, but I know different colors float around him. He has golds, blacks, reds, and blues. I think there is even a trace of purple. Hmmm. I wonder what that means. Why the purple trace? Not even Shi with her rainbow aura has purple. Interesting..."

Seeing Rien's kind gesture toward Nolah, Christophe figured he'd better pull his weight too. Finishing his drink, he left the money on the counter for Tank-- as well as a fat tip.

Popping his neck, he decided it was time for bed, and figured the inn was as good a place as any. He donned his trench coat, and walked over to Nolah. Deftly scooping her into his arms, he ignored her sleepy protests and hushed at her. He then nodded to everyone and said he'd see them later.

Walking back toward the inn, he almost didn't see the shadow that was trailing him-- but he saw it anyways. He then became aware of shadows to the left and right. "That's odd..." he thought, but didn't get to think much more, as a man appeared in front of him.

"Ah, I see you have your hands full," said a warm voice.

"Uh, yeah, I guess so," Christophe replied. "It's no big deal though. She's not that heavy."

"Yes, but burdens like that have a way of getting heavier," the man replied, his top hat bobbing in time to his words.

Nolah began to weigh a bit more in Christophe's arms, so he shifted her weight, but made no move to put her down. "Maybe. But it's not too far to the Moonbit, so I'll be allright. What did you say your name was?"

"Mr. McKrea. I've hired Nolah to dance at one of my parties. If you like, I can give her a ride in my car, and you won't have to continue with the burden of carrying her."

Christophe felt Nolah stiffen through his jacket. While she was getting heavier, he wasn't about to give her over to some strange guy. "That's okay. I'll just keep going. As I said, it isn't too far."

"No, I think it is. You should probably just give her to me."

The colors around Nolah became dark reddish-green-- the color of fear. That decided Christophe. "No. Nolah stays with me. That's final." Upon that declaration, the shadows began to materialize in a circle around them.

"s**t," though Christophe. "This is not good."

"I believe you are mistaken. Nolah will be coming with me."

Christophe gripped Nolah tightly, said, "It's you who are mistaken!" as he ripped his trenchcoat-- again-- and took to the starry sky.

Having served all drinks and food requested...

Tank picked up the array of used glasses and filled up the sink, washing each cup individually, a little slower than usual due to the fact that his mind was somewhere else. The last glass that came into his grip he looked at, tilting his head to one side as if asking it silent inquiry. Then he flipped it over his hand, caught it as it started its fall downward and washed it just as he had the others. That done, he drained the sink, rinsed it out, dried the glasses and put them back, upside down, on the gripped shelf under the counter of the bar.

He straightening out all the bottles on the wall behind him, meticulously making sure that all the labels were facing outwards. He did it automatically, like he had been programed to do so. He always wanted everything to be perfect. It wasn't a compulsive thing, as it is with a perfectionist, he just did it without thinking about it. As if he'd been trained to do so. He could vaguely remember a time when he didn't care if things were skewed, and then the memory faded to static.

Everything done, he smiled at Rien and Shi and stifled a yawn. "Well ladies, I hate to be the party foul on this one, but I think it's time for me to close up shop. Lord knows I need my beauty sleep." He smiled. The truth behind his desire to close early stemmed from the now splitting headache he was now battling for control over his brain. He didn't say that though, and merely closed the door and bolted it after the ladies left, turned out the lights, and headed up the stairs to his loft, where he had lived to so many years.

Collapsing into bed after the getting-ready-for-bed-rituals, he fell into a steadfast sleep, hearing nothing, but dreaming enough for a lifetime. Swirling blue colors, then music, a hokey radio station -- no! a gramaphone! -- and a room filled with smoke. People laughing, talking. Glasses clinking in celebration, a woman crying with joy. Fast cars and the moon, so big in the sky. And then a quick cut to a woman sitting on a bed, looking straight at him, tears filling her beautiful eyes...and another cut...dark stains on a wall, a child's cries, and a bright flash, and then...

He woke up with a start, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. His eyes darted out the darkened room before he fell back on his pillow. It was all right. He was in his own house, surrounded by things that were familiar, in a place where he wanted to be. He shook his head. If his past haunted his dreams, he never wanted to go back.

Morning came and went, and he slept off and one, getting up once to let a delivery man in the back door, allowing the man to do his thing while he went back to bed. He didn't worry about unlocked doors. There was little in Dark Haven to fear. He should have been opened the bar, but come 2'clock, the closed sign still hung crookedly in the window.

Rien opened the door quietly and stood watching Tank. She marvelled at his tricks, and clapped as he threw the bottle into the air. He jumped nervously, looked around and failed to catch the bottle. It smashed with a high pitched tinkle and glass and liquid went everywhere.

Rien opened her mouth in shock and blushed. "I'm so sorry! Let me clear it up." She ran over and hurriedly started picking up glass and putting it in her hand. Suddenly, she screamed out and dropped all off the carefully collected glass back onto the bar.

She grimaced and looked up shamefully. "I cut myself. Do you have a plaster, please Tank? I'm just a walking disaster today." With that, she sat on a stool and promptly fell off. Surpressing a scream, the elf gritted her teeth and chose to continue standing.