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"Sure doesn't look like it to me," Kitri responded, turning to the offenders, "Look, we're with a speakeasy nearby, alright? We ain't gonna say a word to the cops, else we'd get shut down. You leave the speakeasy be, we leave you be, cepiche?"
The final straw came when Kitri noticed the zoroark from before. The one who'd just asked for a job at her speakeasy, nonetheless. The one she'd warned to stay away from the mobsters.
She landed with a clack, wings folding as she made contact with the floor. "You blockhead! What did I just say...
Kitri glanced down at the commotion as she flew, unsure whether or not to intervene. The police certainly weren't going to do anything about it, but if she got involved, she'd be painting a giant target on both her own head, and everyone in the speakeasy.
She flew a little lower, however...
"Just what I get for having a girlfriend," Kitri remarked, "Women. Oh well, rather have them than have a man stinking up my apartment. A girl's gotta have her booze, but she also gotta have her flowers and perfume, y'know?"
She stepped down with a soft clack from her boots. "Later. Guess I'll...
The honchkrow got up, shrugging her coat back on, as she slid her glass back to the bartender. "For now, I suppose I'd better get on home," she said coolly, "Wouldn't want Karina to think I've been off fooling around with some man. She keeps me on a pretty tight leash."
The honchkrow was smacked to the floor with the force of the water blast, but instead of looking like it had done much lasting damage, the creature instead became enraged, hitting back with a harsh dark pulse. Euro narrowly avoided the blow, before being ordered to deck the creature with pay...
Kitri shook her head. "Don't we all? Just a crying shame those nutcases thought all this region's problems could be solved by taking it away from us," she sighed, "What idiots. Don't think mobsters go around killin' folk, just 'cuz they got a bit of booze in their system, but whatever, it keeps...
"You'd better," she said threateningly, "And be sure to keep your yap shut about the fact you work here now. Anyone could be listening, so you can never be too sure."
"And you're also not going to steal from gangs, or any other speakeasies round here, if any at all," she demanded, "They don't care if you're just doing it to survive. You cross a gang, they'll have you dead within the hour."
Kitri's expression soured greatly. "A thief. We don't need thieves here," she said coolly, "They're the worst. Thieves get their grubby hands everywhere they're not wanted. Thieves make silly mistakes. Thieves get us on the wrong sides of those nasty gangs."
The honchkrow flexed her wing...
The honchkrow downed her bloody Mary, allowing the vodka to burn the inside of her mouth, before she swallowed. "And what, pray tell, might this thing be?" she began, "Unless...No. You're not one of them shady undercover cops, are you?"
Kitri glanced around the speakeasy. "Well, if it's a job you need, we do have a few going here," she responded, "Our double bassist quit last week. Says he's gonna be a father soon, so he can't risk himself getting thrown in jail, lest he not be there for his kid. So a new double bassist is in...
"Kitri Vasquez. I go by Kitri, Kit, doll, dollface, y'know, the usual for a jazz singer," she replied, taking his hand vigorously, "I just got off work here. Not a bad place to work, and the free booze is a bonus," she remarked.
The bartender nodded, pulling a pint of the stuff, before he slid the drink to him, from across the bar. The brew appeared lighter than most, and it was very heady, too.
Kitri stirred when someone called her by her species, crossing her legs. "If you're talking in terms of booze, I don't have...
As soon as he was done with Kitri's bloody Mary, the bartender drew a taller glass from the cabinet, to pour the requested ale. "Any particular one?" he asked, "We got a few here. San Tauros, Drunken Dranpa, so what's it gonna be?"
"So true it hurts," the bartender agreed, "Useless grumpigs. Jail a man for having a drink, but they won't jail the Kalosnian mobster who killed my wife. I hate them all."
Kitri nodded. She'd had a fair few run-ins with mobsters herself, mostly just drugged up perverts looking for a bit of...
Prohibition era, 1920s Unova. Alcohol has become completely outlawed. Speakeasies are popping up here, there and everywhere. Gangs are starting to form, and it's war, for some. But for most, everyday life is just the same as it's ever been, sans alcohol.
Castelia City, otherwise known as the...
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