Welcome to Gaia! ::

**In a tavern for starters//

The moon was high tonight from what she had noticed, sitting cross-legged looking out the tavern window. Her azure eyes gleamed as the dim lighting of the bar bounced off her glasses, eyes moving from the sight of the moon about to the patrons of the Tavern. They all seemed rather dull, a bit boring for her taste, however if the chance had to come she wouldn't mind at all having to feed from some of the drunkards-not that she was a real vampire.

Moving some of her long obsidian locks behind her shoulder she held a gloved hand up to the bartender, signalling for another drink. Some sort of fruity drink was slid to her, her pale lips touching the straw, hoping that something, anything exciting would happen and liven the place up.

((OOC - Joey's an OC since I can't remember if any of the Geese were named aside from Pip))


Joey Irwin, the illustrious Ausie sergeant of the Wild Geese, paused in his amble down the sidewalk in the bad side of town. He sucked on his cigarette, waiting for the end to glow. When it lit, he gave a sigh of contentment that sent a stream of smoke into the cool air. Just like a dragon, it looked. Yeah, a mighty, magic dragon, Joey chuckled to himself. He'd already had a coldie or two - or was it three? Had Pip slipped a vodka in there too? The buzz warmed his insides.

Time to move on to the next pub, else why call it a pub crawl? Where Pip and the other Geese had got to, Joey couldn't say. The sergeant popped the collar of his leather jacket and straightened his camo skull bandana. Maybe the next watering hole would have a decent-looking chick who wasn't opposed to some friendliness. Should he sing the Eskimo Song like his fearless leader advised? Nah, it never got the froggy anything but a busted lip.

Ahead glowed a bar's neon. Joey hung a left, shouldering open the tavern door. Aw, hell. The place looked like the type of froufrou club that specialized in fruity girly drinks and played Swedish elevator music. Trance, did they call it? Well...at least here he might find a chick.

His brown eyes scanned the patrons as he sidled up to the bar. Drunks, yuppies, kids. Where were the b***h- Aha! A lopsided smile slid across Joey's face when he spotted a black-haired beanpole of a girl. Glasses, black getup, and - mother of mercy, gloves! This could be a good club after all; these Goth dipshts sometimes turned out to be more fun than they seemed. He slid onto a stool near as he could get to her.

Joey ordered a Budweiser, then turned to his barmate. "Beautiful night, eh?"

((Hah, googled Australian slang. Hope this isn't too incomprehensible))

A German, all the better! She didn't seem like a rager, but those Gerries could fool you. He'd known a few Crow Eaters in his time while traveling in south Oz; they could really go off! But even if she wasn't interested in boozing it up, she at least seemed keen on getting to know him better, maybe even have a naughty...

His grin widened as she looked over him with approval and admiration, admiring his brickie build. Yeah, she wanted him. She was a real beaut, too. What a corker of a stroke of luck had brought him here tonight.

"Just woop woop in the Outback called Darwin," he replied, propping an elbow on the bar next to his coldie. "Don't imagine a beauty such as yourself's ever been there.

"Bein' a bushie may not be the most glamorous thing, but I wouldn't change it. What about yourself?" He took a swig of his grog.

"Ah, patriotism!" Joey said, slapping the bar in approval. Chicks loved it when you got excitable about their hobbies. "It's a rare thing nowadays. I've swung through Germany a few times during my jaunts O.S. Certainly can't knock it." He certainly could, but he'd refrain. They had good grog, after all.

"As for why I'm here with these pommies," he waved to the Brits at the bar, "I'm on a security job at one of these mansions that was rundown when Christ was still snugglin' in his mum's arms. Wouldn't want anybody to make off with the family recipe for bread pudding." He winked his sarcasm. He may have had a few coldies, but he hadn't gone off his face so much that he'd spill his guts completely.

"Now, let me guess why you're here." A smile lit his face as he paused for effect. Another thing chicks loved: flattering guesses and assumptions. Well, let her stand in awe of the master! "I reckon you're here to do research for a book you're writing. No, wait," he held up a hand, "you're here for the museums and art so you can finish your thesis for Uni."

Joey gave a winning grin and a shrug of innocence at her comment.

Observing, eh? Joey nodded in understanding. Just so long as she kept observing him! "Right, I can get that. You're a professional gal." This little Sheila wanted to come across as mysterious as the bunyip, apparently. Tricky devils, chicks. She liked to play hard to get. Righto, he could play along; might even be fun - thrill of the hunt and all that rot. He didn't want to seem a stickybeak, so he said, "There's sure plenty to take a squizz at here."

Deciding to take a leap, he added, "Say, anywhere you'd like to see tonight besides the inside of this pub?" Like maybe the inside of his hotel room... Or at least a pub really going off.

Ace! She'd agreed! He gave a cheerful laugh at her question. "We can go anywhere you'd like, my beauty! I know there are more pubs about, but we should some fresh air and such." Maybe they could stop at a milk bar for some tucker? Joey's stomach had begun to feel empty. "There's a little park not far from here. I think it's got some statues that might be historical."

G'arn, she caught on quick! Joey grinned as he patted her arm with his free hand. "Never was much for history when I was an ankle biter, but I'm findin' it more interesting now." He chuckled at her giggle, "Oh, I'm all for fun! I'm pretty easy to entertain.

"Holy dooley!" he exclaimed as they stepped from the bar, "I've been lairing it up! Sorry 'bout that. My name's Joey Irwin. Don't think I caught yours?"

"Likewise." He pried his mind of the pleasure her hand on his arm was causing him long enough to reply, "Astrid, eh? Beaut of a name, love! Proper German handle, I reckon. Say," he added, remembering something from his ankle biting days when he'd read comics about Norse gods king-hitting each other and waving hammers around. "Wasn't Astrid a goddess?" The name sounded like a goddess's.