Night's Omen

Actually, 'taking it easy on training' really meant that he hadn't done any at all, and it didn't bother him nearly as much as it did her and Connor.  Those two were way too paranoid about his well-being, he swore it.  He didn't think there was any real cause for concern, but he humored them.  Besides, training at the Guild was still a very good workout, even if it bruised his pride when Mars stopped in and knocked him around.  He was getting better, though.

"You mean, a buzzard told you.  A great, big hairy old buzzard," he corrected happily, immediately grabbing a chance to insult Dave.  The two got along marvelously, though their relationship tended to revolve around cat and dog jokes, with the two of them messing with each other constantly.  Dave kept a little spray bottle behind the bar when they worked together, just for kicks.  Darren brought him dog treats one day.  It was a neverending cycle.

"Since you're staying, what's your next adventure?" he asked, gesturing to what had once been a Cosmo, and was now an empty glass with a garnish that Mars was quickly finishing off.  

"Ehh," came another uncertain reply. The two drinks, normally very potent for a girl of her size and stature, had done little but give her cheeks a rosy tint, though the girl had been satisfied for the night. The cranberry and subsequent lime flavours left her mouth with a savory cleanness, and Mars rolled the garnish around in her mouth a few times before dropping it into the empty glass. It had been the better part of an hour now, and Darren's shift had to have been coming to an end, given that it was nearly 2 AM. Perhaps another hour more?

Mars could've easily amused herself roving around the bar, though with nobody else that she knew, the only other options were to rove around and annoy or flirt with other customers - which she personally was not feeling playful or chatty enough to do - or continue sitting on the stool and survey the place quietly while chatting with Darren. The latter option seemed a bit more entertaining, and Mars didn't mind unwinding after the loooong day. Helping herself to a bit of the water that she knew was kept in a pitcher under Darren's side of the counter, she leaned her chin against her palm and gave her boyfriend a slightly appraising glance.

"Nothing really. Any more drinks and I'll be packing on the pounds," she joked, patting her perfectly flat abdomen for emphasis, "And then for once you'll have me pinned to the ground when working out," she teased him lightly, knowing that his manhood could stand to take a poke or two from time to time. Truth be told, she had never seen herself as 'the stronger one' of the duo, knowing that given the right situation, Darren could just as easily make great use of his teeth and claws as she did with her crossbow and guns.

He had to laugh at her talk of 'packing on the pounds', as though it were a real concern, and at the chance that he'd be pinning her in any sort of training situation.  That didn't work out very often, either.  He was good enough, but he didn't have to constant work at it all that she'd possessed, nor was he willing to use his natural talents against her all that often.  With a real enemy, teeth and claws would be fair game, but not with Mars.  The fact that she was amazing with even a usually non-lethal weapon didn't hurt her case.

"In that case, I'll have to draw you out here more often," he teased, leaving her empty glass where it was so that she could mess with it and the garnish for something to do with her hands.  He knew her well enough to know that she sometimes liked to busy her hands while she talked.  "And make some nice, fatty dinners."  Not that he really wanted her to gain any weight like that, since his own ability to beat her meant that there was someone else out there who could.  He didn't want that, and besides, he liked her the way she was.  

He didn't mind teasing her that he was going to win, though.

She slicked her tongue across the enamel of her pearly whites, another habit that he had gotten in the business of seeing on a regular basis - she was normally a very expressive sort of person, save for when things got serious and she needed to hunker down for some planning or doing. Mars knew when it was time to work and when it was time to play, and this fit into the latter, thankfully. If her arm were any more battered before it healed, she didn't know if she'd be that amazing with her firearms much longer. And forget hand-to-hand combat. Long-range was something she excelled remarkably at; however, her slight frame and 110-pound figure could hardly prove marvelous for physical combat, no matter how fit she trained herself to be.

"Speaking of nice and fatty, I've still got some of that shrimp scampi with whole-wheat linguine sitting in the 'fridge, waiting to be heated up. That'd go nicely with the cocktails and bread pudding," she remarked thoughtfully, the mean flying together in her mind. It was characteristic of Mars to run away with the slightest of ideas - it was how her mind worked. Sometimes it was a bit too flighty, and that's when she needed Darren's grounding thoughts.

It was nice to focus a bit on the domestic life. Something not stressful or life-threatening, as had been the norm for a good part of the last three or four years. It was a possibility they never really discussed, but each shared a silent understanding of the other's mortality. It was really one of the reasons that Mars had not discussed the idea of marrying. If their lives didn't entail such instability and danger, as she had once justified it to herself, it would definitely have crossed her mind. But as she studied Darren's handsome frame, it pained her just a little to think that they might not have much more time than the present.

It was a shame just how differently their thoughts ran, since Mars was horribly interested in the 'what ifs' and what she considered to be inevitable.  He was more concerned with the present and an optimistic view of the future.  An 'if all goes well' sort of scenario, if you will.  He intended to marry this girl, but he was taking his sweet time in asking, considering her opinion on the subject.  He'd heard of plenty of hunters who lived to a ripe old age.  Just look at that guy Verde that Connor had mentioned.  He'd just recently turned 40.  Of course, his fiance had died when he was 29.  That wasn't important, though.  Darren wasn't a hunter, so it was only Mars that really had to worry about making it to a nice, large number for her age.  Darren had no doubt that he could pull it off, given the lack of real threat to his life on a daily basis.

His mouth almost watered at her mention of the shrimp scampi, which had been amazing the first time around, and he groaned.  "You know, I have at least an hour left here, and now you're making me hungry," he pointed out.  He had a feeling she did it on purpose sometimes.  She knew how much he liked shrimp, and she'd teased him about it since she'd found out.  It actually wasn't a feline thing, since leopards were into red meat as much as fish anyway, but it was impossible to escape the typical cat stereotype, and he did really like fish.  

"You better be careful, or we might not make it home without a snack," he teased right back, winking at her suggestively.  Somehow, he wasn't entirely on the subject of food still, even if he WAS looking forward to that shrimp.

A snort-giggle left her at his suggestive wink. Somehow, Darren always managed to sharpen his feline features when he winked, smirked, grinned, or otherwise made any snarky, sarcastic, or sly gestures. She supposed that his wink would've fit under the 'sly' category, but still. The man hardly needed any more highlighting of his feline qualities, and besides catnip, she knew shrimp and seafood were just about his kryptonite.

That, or late-night romps. Somehow Mars got the feeling that they'd never escape the night with clean sheets, and though she'd never be caught dead in a compromising or sordid position, she'd also never withhold anything from Darren. The level of trust they shared ensured a comfortable setting under covers, whereas normally Mars wasn't open at all to intimacy on that level.

"There'll be plenty of time to snack later on. Calm yerself," she countered right back, managing her own wink and smug wink, though her words weren't completely without truth. He had the 'Vet, didn't he? The two were lost amid their thoughts for a second, so much that Mars didn't notice that one of the bachelors from the other table, having had one too many shots of tequila, had approached her from behind with a bit of a swagger and leaned against the counter with a foolishly brazen air.

[span style=\'color:silver\']"Buy you a draaank?" he drawled, the stench of stale liquor heavy in his breath. Apparently, his friend's warnings about the bartender had quite escaped him.[/span]

Really, he felt he had enough weaknesses where Mars was concerned, and she knew all of them, or so he thought.  Other than the seafood and catnip, there was a spot on the back of his neck that drove him wild, but he wasn't telling her about that one if she hadn't figured it out on her own, yet.  Such weaknesses could be used for evil, such as convincing him to join her for a shopping trip, or making her breakfast when neither of them wanted to get out of bed.

He was such a sucker for that girl.

"I'm calm, I'm calm," he teased her with a grin, putting up his hands for an instant before handing someone a drink and taking notice of the drunk who made him correct his statement in a rather dry tone.  "I think."

Buy her a drink?  How stupid could he be?  She'd just kissed the bartender, and this idiot thought she needed him to buy a drink for her?  Whatever.  "Actually, man, she's already covered," he informed the guy, leaning on the bar from his side to meet the guy's eyes.  The bar was higher on the customer side for aesthetics, and he liked using that added height to his advantage when he needed it.  "I'm buying her drinks."

Mars had greeted the offer from the evidently drunk bachelor with a blank stare and a stifled giggle of derision, which he apparently mistakened for interest. Leering and edging in a bit closer, he opened his mouth only to be greeted by Darren's rebuttal. That's when he, rather rudely, snapped his head towards the younger bartender and frowned nastily.

[span style=\'color:silver\']"I wasn't talkin' t'you," he informed Darren rather snappily, which was the second mistake of his night, and turned his eyes back on the slender asian, giving her a stomach-churning once-over, "So, little lady, what about it? Matter o' fact, why don't you get your cute little ass over there - " he gestured with a head tilt towards his cheering group of friends " - and give us a bit of entertainment?"

Mars expression transformed at a blindingly fast rate, from mildly bemused to insulted, but she quickly recovered, responding with a deceptively sweet demeanor.

"I'm sorry, but I don't dance for ugly people," she informed him rather crisply, "Now would you please step off?"

A few people around them had begun to turn their heads, curious at the exchange.[/span]

His bright green eyes had narrowed when the man snapped at him like that, but he let Mars handle her situation on her own, for the most part.  He was waiting, though.  The way the man looked her over just made him want to brain the man, but he couldn't without provocation.  Once Mars had told the guy to go away though, he could step in, which he did.  

The instant the man's mouth opened again, the expression on the drunk's face clearly stating he was insulted, Darren's hand slammed onto the bar between Mars and the drunk, his arm effectively blocking the man's 'conversation'.  Darren got a few choice words out of the man, some having been directed at Mars, while the rest were aimed his way an instant later.  He didn't care though, and merely smiled.

"Sounds to me like she said 'no', buddy," he told the man, flashing the idiot a fanged smile.  It was the most discreet way of threatening someone that he knew, and he used it fairly often in the Hollow.  

"Didn' I say I wasn't talkin' t'you?"

"She also said you were ugly," he pointed out, just as happily.  If the guy was going to be difficult, he would be an ass.  

He had been taken aback and then abruptly outraged when Darren had stepped in like that, and Mars had to stifle another amused laugh. The group of guys behind him were now speaking in hushed whispers instead of cheering, and a small crowd of people around them had halted in their drinking and socializing, riveting their eyes on the three.

Mars smoothly slid off the stool, and standing next to the man, he was easily six inches taller than she was. Unruffled, the man continued leering, though in some corner of his stupefied mind, he gathered that the situation had become slightly more serious than intended. He wasn't, however, about to appear like an idiot and do the walk of shame back without getting the last laugh, but when Darren flashed him the sharp incisors, he couldn't help but stumble back a few paces.

[span style=\'color:silver\']"Ehhh, shutcher piehole," he replied dismissively, then glanced towards Mars, "No drink, but you've gotta shake that," and with that, his final act of bravado and last dumb act of the night, he reached for Mars's butt, intending to give it a good smack.

She stopped his hand mere inches from her backside, expression now completely serious, "You really shouldn't have done that," she muttered lowly, and before the guy knew it, she had raised a fist and sent it flying towards the guy's cheek. It connected with a dull sound, and though she hadn't used full strength, it was still enough to knock him a few feet backwards.

By this time, the crowd had let out a collective gasp, and the group of the bachelor's friends had gotten to their feet, outraged. Mars wasn't fazed - they didn't look any more threatening than he had, but it probably wasn't a good idea to provoke a bar fight at this time of night.[/span]

Darren had hoped the guy would be smart enough to back down, but he was obviously just too inebriated to bother.  Stupid city asshole, thinking he owned the world.  Grabbing at Mars' ass was a bad idea, though.  Hell, even Darren wouldn't try that under all but the best conditions in public.  This guy was just looking fo--

Yeah, for a punch in the face.

Darren took a mere second to close his eyes and just mentally groan before he vaulted over the bar and got right inbetween Mars and the others.  It figured that he'd have to break up a fight right at the end of his shift.  "Mars, now might be a good time to head out to the car.  I'll be out in...ten minutes," he told her over his shoulder, dealing with drunkards essentially being just an everyday part of the job by now.  One of the idiot's friends picked up a glass bottle like a weapon, and he shot another glance at Mars.  

"Make that fifteen, and head out the back.  The Vet's waiting for you," he told her, right before focusing his attention on the drunk idiot and company.  "Alright boys, here's the deal.  I'm giving you 2 minutes to get out of here before I remove you."

She could sense the mixture of different reactions around her - some felt it completely hilarious and actually didn't bother to stifle their laughter, and others were openly calling her a whore. Mars couldn't have cared much either way, and instead shot the man a smirk and retrieved Darren's keys to the 'Vet from his back pocket, hand lingering there a bit longer than she had to - hey, she was still Mars, bar fight or not.

Nonplussed, she flounced towards the back exit and disappeared from view before the crowd, leaving Darren to deal with the drunkard. The cool air greeted her cheeks invitingly, and she slipped into the black leathered passenger's seat of the 'Vet, parked inconspicuously near the back entrance of the establishment under 'Employee Parking'. Even with the smog and pollution of the city, tonight the clouds had parted and it was clear out, revealing the lights of the city around her in all its glory.

Settling back into the seat, she plucked the keys from her pocket and switched it into 'on', then turned on some music and awaited Darren's emergence. It was a nasty habit that she had to kick, really, but Mars couldn't help but invite trouble with each step, unless she made a conscious effort not to.

Naturally, he didn't mind in the least that she swiped the car keys from his back pocket, and especially liked that her hand lingered there, though he really couldn't think too much about it just yet.  He had a situation to handle first.

Fortunately, two of the men took his warning seriously and started for the door, leaving three men still standing there, including the idiot who'd been harassing Mars and the one with the bottle.  Interesting enough, none of them reacted when he approached them in an attempt to herd them towards the door except to allow themselves to be pressured towards the exit for a few steps.  Finally, the trouble he'd been expecting started up, just as he was thinking he might make it out to Mars sooner than he expected.  It was the third man who suddenly twisted around to attack him, and Darren didn't really have a problem avoiding the hit.  It was the first idiot jumping in just as suddenly that made things difficult, and the one with the bottle just complicated things further.

Darren took a glass bottle to the head, growled, and knocked one of them sprawling an instant later.  The one with the bottle got him with it again, slashing up the arm he threw up to protect his face, and the leopard shifter was sure to remove that man from the fight as well.  The only one still standing was the one Mars had punched, and Darren actually attributed that to the man being a bit slow.  He hadn't been enough of a threat to really warrant striking.  "You going to drag your idiot friends out of here now?" he snarled, finally pissed off enough to sound like he was.  Bleeding from his arm and skull could do that, even if he'd heal up quickly.  The man nodded.

"Then get that asshole off the floor and out the door," he ordered, grabbing the man he hadn't gestured to in order to carry him as far as the door and drop him just outside.  Once the three of them were out of the bar with their other two friends, Darren didn't give a shit what happened to them.  He had to cash out his checks and get outside to Mars, and that was what was on his mind.  Considering the time, it was reasonable for her to be finished with his shift, so when he walked back inside, there wasn't much to discuss with Dave about it.

"That was fucking cowardly, that guy using the bottle," the werewolf remarked, and Darren snorted.

"It's not like they care.  They probably thought they were slick, jumping me like that.  Idiots."

"Doesn't make it any less cowardly.  I hate people like that.  Hey, how many open checks do you have?

"Two, and one of them is from Mars.  Here's the other," he offered, handing a copy of the check over, then emptying his tip jar and paying the tab for Mars.  Dave would take the other open check, and Darren was out of there.  It took a grand total of about five minutes, putting him rather close to his estimated time of arrival at the car outside, a backpack slung over his shoulder.  His injuries were healed by then, though there was still a bloodied series of tears in his white button-up work shirt, and blood soaked into the back of his collar from the head wound.  He had blood in his hair on he back of his head as well, but none of it concerned him now that it had healed.  

He knocked on the car's window to get her to unlock the doors, and smirked somewhat.  She'd made herself comfortable with the radio and all rather quickly.

She opened her eyes from her brief repast, glad to see Darren out in one piece. Not that she intended on jumping in again and dragging his ass out of there - the last thing she needed was for Ash to get irritated with Darren and his troublemaking girlfriend. She unlocked the door rather rapidly and was pleased to see him slip in, removing the backpack for the backseat, and leaned in for a kiss or two.

That's when she spotted the nasty rips in his shirt and blood-lined arm, and then noted the spots along his back collar. Raising an eyebrow, she frowned.

"Bottle guy?" and before the words left her she knew it was him. Narrowing her eyes and reminding herself to kick the shit out of him the next time she ran into him - she had an uncanny ability to remember people's faces even when meeting them in passing - she touched a gentle, slender figure along his arm and neck, 'tsking' sympathetically. As she leaned back, she shot him a reproachful look and pouted.

"I'm sorry babe. But y'know me... " she trailed off, seeing no need to continue, leaning in to press her lips against his. Sometimes she wondered how he put up with it, really. Given her streak, her recklessness would get her in serious trouble one of these days. With the car now in ignition, the pair drove off the parking lot and pulled onto the highway easily. It was fifteen minutes south to their Greenwich Village apartment, and even at 3, the roads were dotted with automobiles.

Really, he wouldn't have even bothered to worry about the marks on his shirt except to throw the shirt away if she hadn't commented on them.  She had no idea how many shirts had met the same fate.  "Yeah, he seemed to think he was pretty smart, thinking to use a bottle," he remarked, rolling his eyes and smiling for her.  She actually apologized, and she'd listened to him when he told her to head out to the car.  Even if it all made sense, it was nice to see and hear.

"No big deal.  There wasn't a fight all night, so I figured there was going to be one before my shift ended.  Might as well have been you," he told her, shrugging as she started the drive home.  "At least I didn't have to break up opposing sides."  That truly was a nice switch, since most fights involved two different parties, usually supernatural.  That last one had been a cakewalk.