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arrow Dockside, Inside Morgan's Tavern

"Honestly...?"

Michael leaned back in his seat after sliding into the booth in the seat opposite her, his face calm and blank. White hair fell about his face as he inclined his head slightly, dark eyes sliding shut before they could look at his hands which were crossed casually on the table. He was afraid if he looked at the gauntlets he might reveal his true purpose, and he didn't know her good enough for that.

The corner of his mouth turning up just slightly in a slight smirk, he chuckles quietly and says, "The trout."

arrow Dockside, Inside Morgan's Tavern

The mere presence of alcohol made Michael more relaxed, and he smiled warmly to himself as he brought the mug to his mouth- hoping instants later that she hadn't seem him do it; it made him look like an alcoholic- which, honestly, he probably was. After a drawn out drink and a deep sigh, puncuated by a small smile with closed eyes, he raises his head and slowly opens his eyes.

"Sure, don't see why not..."

Michael set down the large tankard of alcohol and sighed quietly as he started rolling up his sleeves, revealing inch by inch the gauntlets he wore on each arm. One, on his right arm, was silvery and generally smooth, marred every so often by little pairs of golden wings, and the other, on the left, was black and clawed, covered all over by jagged protrusions and small studded spikes.

With the sleeves rolled up all the way, the bands of silver and black metal about his upper arms could be seen, the scarred tissue around them evident. Torn, white, and ragged skin shown dully in the faint light, evidence of scars healed over dozens of times- as if someone had tried to hack through the arm. Smiling weakly, he gestures with his arms and flexes his fingers a couple of times.

"I'm trying to get these things off... as of yet I've been unsuccessful."

arrow Dockside, Inside Morgan's Tavern

"I didn't necessarily come HERE, it was just on the way..."

Most guys would have noticed some of the sensual things that 'Kitten' was doing, albeit unintentionally- maybe -but not Michael. The young man had kind of lost heart for anything pertaining to the other sex in his late teens, figuring his wings and tail made him too much of a mutant for anyone to find attractive. It was kind of pathetic, but he'd pretty much lost all hope.

Leaning his right elbow on the table, chin resting in his palm, Michael gazes blankly at the table while absentmindedly fiddling with the handle of his mug, trying to sort through his thoughts. He wasn't quite sure WHERE he was going, just that he was going. Any place was better than home.

"I don't know... I guess I'm just wandering until I find an answer. It's got to be out there somewhere."

Still staring at the table, he starts drumming the fingers on his left hand, the claws on the gauntlet making little holes in the table upon impact.

arrow Dockside, Morgan's Tavern


Without even moving his eyes from the table, watching 'Kitten' in the reflection of the ale, Michael raises the dark-gauntleted hand, but doesn't wave it- just letting the raised hand and a mumbled, "Bye..." show his recognition of her departure. It had been fun, but she was a little bit too high-and-mighty for the angelic devil. He slowly lowered his hand and went back to his staring, hoping that maybe an answer could be found in the grain of the wood.

Ah well... at least she had bought him some booze. Kudos.

arrow Morgan's Tavern


Through the course of Kitten and Michael's conversation, one might have noted the glow coming off of the light and dark gauntlets was just about equal. But, as soon as Morgan slammed his hand into the table, Michael was started and he momentarily dropped his gaurd, allowing the quickest gauntlet to take control of his personality. If it was the Devil's Hand, he'd be rather... cranky... but if it was the Angel Hand, he'd be quite nice and helpful- unfortunately, the left won out.

The dark gauntlet pulsated powerfully and the angelic glove dimmed noticabley, even the lights around the young man becoming less bright. As Morgan walked away Michael turned a rather evil glare upon him and grinned, but not the calm, sedate grin as before- but a sadistic one. That of a devil. The feathers on his wings began to retract back into the thin membrane of the wings, the appendages becoming more scaley and skeletal.

Sliding out of the booth and snapping up his left hand in one smooth motion, a dark chain, which pulsated with the same dark aura as the glove, rips out of the palm of the weapon and snakes through the air towards Morgan. In the blink of an eye the chain was wrapped tightly about the fat bartender, lifting him up into the air with his arms pinned to his sides, as Michael slowly walked towards him.

With his face inches from that of the helpless bartender, the patrons of the Tavern looking on in stunned fascination, Michael cocks his head to the side and narrow his dark eyes, faint trails of dark aura trailing off of the orbs.

"What do you mean, 'pet'?"

arrow Morgan's Tavern


"Hn..."

Without another word, Michael loosens the chain and retracts it back into the dark gauntlet, allowing the fat man to drop to the ground with a meaty splat. He wasn't quite sure why the information had gotten him kind of riled up, but... it was of little consequence. The angelic devil just held Morgan's gaze with his dark eyes for a moment more, before turning and walking towards the door.

Just as he places his Angel Hand on the door to push it open, he quickly swivvels his head to the side and thrusts his face towards a man standing by the entrance, causing the fellow to fall backwards onto his butt just as Michael says, "Boo."

Grinning again, the more-demonic-than-angelic man walks out of the Tavern and recedes into the night, wandering in no particular direction.