Smells like Whiskey & Regret [Cassidy, OPEN TO ALL]

Malo was in his office looking over the monthly income. While an ancient system of doing business, keeping an annual & monthly record worked quite well and Malo liked to be organized. He was consumed by his work, as he usually was, when the bouncers informed about the tense little incident between a ghoul and a robot. He barely registered it, Malo rarely paid attention to fights in the bar, that was what security was for. Anything short of the whole bar being thrown into chaos he could care less about.

It was only about a half hour later when the words sank in.


A Ghoul.

On a hunch, he got up from his desk and looked out his office window, scanning the crowd. They always had ghouls but there was one who had a knack for causing trouble, one he's known since he was a kid. Then he spotted her.

That fucking Nuka-Cola doo rag.

Malo watched her talking to a man. Well, she was certainly high, otherwise she'd be skulking in the corner with her mask on. Malo bit his lip, thinking about what he wanted to do. Lei certainly made a mess last time, who even let her in? Who was on door duty?

Malo smacked his forehead, who else but Jaime? That woman was always on Lei's side. Makes sense, he supposed. Lei was good friends with her grandmothers. Malo sighed and sat back down. She gets one chance. One interruption and she's out. Permanently.

As Cassidy poured his whiskey in to the shot glass, his eyes appeared to be almost glittering as he watched the amber liquid fill the petite glass to the top. With the tanned complexion he had on his face, his deep crimson cheeks naturally accentuated his appearance. There didn't appear to be any armor to speak of on this foreigner, which might raise an eyebrow to the expression of an experienced wastelander, were his silver tongue not underlined within the earlier confrontation between Leilani and the Gutsy unit.

Setting the bottle down on the counter, and passing it to Lei, he would answer her question. "Cassidy, call me Cass for short, Lei." The man spoke with a noticeable slur, pausing for a moment to down his shot before continuing. "That is enough alcohol for me tonight." He gently moved his shot glass away from him, towards the other end of the counter. Cassidy turned himself around on his stool in a less-then-graceful way, to look at the now-vacant elevated round stage. A disappointed sigh afterward, he focused on Leilani. "I could hardly enjoy the performance with that bot and his lecturing. What are they like, usually?" He asked with a curious tone to his voice.

Lei chuckled. "Amazing. They got something different every night, but the jazz band is the best. They play that way old stuff, stuff from way before I was born. It's bloopy and funky and Mmm, it's hard to put into words. But hey, once the band stops playing it's open stage, meaning anyone can get up there. The only catch is you'll get booed or thrown off if you suck."

As she said that, she jerked her thumb towards the stage as some poor bastard began to sing 'Ain't that a kick in the head' quite drunkenly and was promptly thrown off the stage when he refused to leave.

"It's not exactly a place for the faint of heart, but tell you what, you lend me that guitar and I'll show you and the rest of these bozos something they ain't ever seen before."

Lei's eyes burned like embers as she said this and she could feel the high nearing it's climax. After this, it wouldn't be long before she was sober again. It was so much quicker now than it was before, not even a few hours. "What do you say?"

Cassidy brought a hand to his cheeks, feeling a calming warmth burning in his stomach and face. The sweet brand of Olde Whiskey had a solid grip on him and his actions now, his movements becoming much more suave. "If you offered me all of California and had Tandi rise from her grave, kiss my ass and give me the papers herself, I'd still say no." He answered her, his tone sounding mellow to the ears. "I've had a lot of wasters ask to play that guitar, and there were a couple of incidents following their attempts to steal it."

He took a look at the now-empty stage, the floor around it littered with all kinds of trash from the establishments rowdy patrons. "Doesn't mean I can't try to impress these folks." Cass said in passing as he got up, and lifted his guitar case on to the stool he was once seated. Undoing the latches keeping his instrument secure, he would open the case and lift the mahogany guitar out of it. It had a couple of superficial scratches on its surface, but the wood was properly polished. The top, sides and the back of it was glistening under the soft light of the Mutant Muscle, looking extraordinary in comparison to the way most instruments are handled post-war.

Wrapping the leather strap on the guitar around his back, Cassidy gives Lei a nod before walking up towards the stage, past all the booths. A select few of the customers from earlier that disliked the last performance must have expected the same, throwing whatever soft consumable items they could at him before he took the spotlight. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he ran his hand along the neck of the guitar, before beginning to play the chords to a song that the bar had likely never heard before.

(45 is a basic success where the audience won't be impressed or be annoyed, 80 is a likable impression on an audience that they would remember, and 100+ is a profound impression on those listening to the song. Cassidy has a natural +13 to all rolls involving Charisma and Luck, with an extra point thanks to his temporary +1 Charisma Alcohol bonus)

The member 'Cassidy Junison' has done the following action : Dices roll

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'1d100' : 44

(I scored a 58, a basic success)

Much to the audience's surprise, they found his guitar playing to be average compared to their usual band. It didn't help that his fingers slipped due to his drunken state, playing strings that nearly threw off the whole performance. He recovered the instrumental vignette enough for the common customer not to throw their dinner at the stage just to keep him quiet.

With a shrug upon hearing little of the people who he performed for, he casually walked off the stage and made his way back to the bar, placing his guitar back in its case. As he was closing off his case and placing it against the counter, he glanced at Lei and shook his head. "Not the smartest decision I made in my life, but at least to them I was better then the last dumbass who was up there."

Lei smirked at his answer, thinking 'Certainly has a flair for the dramatic, doesn't he?' She watched as he marched up to the stage and begin to play. He...well, he wasn't horrible. Wasn't great either and the bar wasn't bashful about letting him know. A stony, unimpressed silence met his performance as he left the stage and the only one clapping was Lei herself. But she couldn't help but snicker as he took his seat next to her.


"Not the smartest decision I made in my life, but at least to them I was better then the last dumbass who was up there." said Cass.

"Hey, small victories." Lei replied, pouring him a shot of what they had been drinking and sliding it over to him. The bar had since began to talk again, the dozens of conversations blending together in one big melting pot of sound.

"So, what is it you do to make money? Based on that performance, I assume you're not making any caps playing music."

Then, Lei felt a sudden sharp pain in her head. An all too familiar ache. She kept her face emotionless but closed her eyes. The come down was always hard, no matter the dosage. The pain passed but she could feel the high fade away, like the memory of an old friend. Soon, the darkness would set in again. Lei opened her eyes. She had to get away before she had a panic attack. But she could feel the sickness of her mind began to seep in, like a weed. She needed to leave.

Upon hearing of her reply, speaking to him of small victories, all Cassidy could offer was a shrug. When she poured a shot of whiskey and slid the glass over to him, he shook his head and moved the shot glass back in her direction. "I've woken up with a lot of hangovers in my life, and tomorrow I'm not plannin' on it." He commented, before replying to her question regarding his occupation.

"There are times where I'm told I play nice, and times when I don't play well at all. Up on the stage, it was the former." He explained while cracking the knuckles in his hands, appearing to be more of a habit then anything intimidating.

"I play my guitar wherever I go, whether it is a town like this one, or simply on the road. I do errands whenever I'm not playing, grabbing whatever caps I can get my hands on. I won't lie, it isn't a consistent lifestyle. There are times when I don't make enough." Cass spoke, getting closer and closer to a wistful tone as he admitted that he struggled. Looking over at Leilani, he'd catch her expression with her eyes closed, prompting him to raise an eyebrow and appear concerned. "You alright?" He asked with a sincere tone and a tilt of his head.

To describe the sharp-tongued drunk's song as painful would be a euphemism. In fairness, Luke had never been a great patron of the arts, but the man's tune had all the appeal of a yowling three-headed cat smashing head-first into an abandoned pile of microphones and off-key bongos.

After enduring the odd little man's, for lack of a proper term, "song," he drank in the blissful, uncaring silence of the bar, short-lived as it was. He admitted that this night was not going as well as he planned, he saw no prospective clients, and the small trickle of patrons coming into the bar was beginning to reverse as the hours wore on.

Still, he persisted. Despite the slim economic prospects, there was still valuable information to observe here. Lackluster musical skills aside, the man with the case was still a threat. The junkie ghoul he was so eagerly conversing with perhaps even more so.

Just how dangerous they'd turn out to be remained to be seem, and Blackwell was keen to observe.

Time passes quick when you're in good company and before long, the Mutant Muscle had to close its doors to its patrons due to the time of the night. They allowed their customers time to leave their establishment, the bouncers opening the doors outside to the rest of Kaheliki Town. Those that wished to continue speaking with eachother shared the relevant information with one another, and moved on with their lives, to the cruel islands of Hawaii.

Blackwell:
You wrote without spelling mistakes (+20 EXP) and in a distant manner befitting your character (+10 EXP). You scoped out what little competition was in the Mutant Muscle, giving you an idea of the type of individuals they are (+5 EXP).
Total: +35 EXP

Cassidy:
You wrote a lot (+20 EXP), without spelling mistakes (+20 EXP) and in an entertaining manner (+20 EXP).
You managed to stop a bar fight passing a SPEECH challenge. (+40 EXP)
Total: +100 EXP
For stopping the bar fight, the bartenders have given you the tips gained that day and a few personal items: +35 caps, +1 Stimpak, and a single magazine of 10mm ammunition for your Colt 6520.

Sergeant J. Johnson:
You wrote dialogue in a thrilling manner (+20 EXP) and according to your character (+15 EXP). You have learned the opinions of the common wastelander in the process. (+10 EXP)
Total: +45 EXP

Leilani Kelekolio:
You introduced yourself in to the story in a natural manner (+20 EXP), with no spelling mistakes (+20 EXP) and remained true to your characters vices (+15 EXP).
Total: +55 EXP