Logs:Rat Ketchum

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Rat Ketchum


Characters: Axle, Happy, Agatha, Saulot
Date: 2020-08-10
Summary: After a short talk and a change of ownership, Sexy Dan gets his walking papers.
Disclaimers:

Rat.jpg

The humidity out there today is brutal; however, in spite of the sultry weather, Axle has opted to don a pair of denim bib overalls over careworn red AC/DC tee shirt, with a pair of heavy socks and motorcycle boots on her feet. A pair of mirrored sunglasses are tucked up into her curly hair, a few remnants of the day's work in her garage visible on her skin here and there. A smudge on her neck, a little bit of grease under a thumb nail, dust on her clothes.

Upon entering Dead Johnny's, she takes a moment to give the place a once over, as if looking for someone or something in particular -- or perhaps simply surveying whether there have been any changes to the interior. Her nostrils flare as she snorts out a breath, hands on hips in a somewhat haughty manner.

"Place is still a shithole," she mutters.

Things can get humid in Arkansas, but not this bad. Agatha was wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat, Saints t-shirt, cargo shorts, and flip-flops. Very much the tourist and foreignor that he is. He reeks of bug repellant, a scent easily picked up by the other wolf as he sat at the bar. He had one a glass in front of him as he nurses his current drink while three empties set in front of him.

Spying a familiar face, Axle lowers her hands and sidles toward the bar, where she bodily pushes herself into the space between Agatha's stool and the person who might or might not be occupying the one next to him, flashing a toothsome grin at the Elodoth. "Jesus, you smell like a Singapore whorehouse in skeeter season," she points out with another flare of nostrils.

A long fingered hand settles on one of the empties in front of him, rubbing the pads of her fingers over the rim of the glass. Do they seem shorter, those monkey fingers? Just a touch so, perhaps, a matter of a few millimeters.

She's still a pushy broad.

"Did you just tell me I smell like a bukkake in Southeast Asia?" the Elodoth asks as he turns in his seat to view the other wolf. He blinks, finally left speechless for a few moments. The bloke who was sitting by him, a tentacle-haired fellow, scoffs at Axle, and moves several seats down to avoid both Werewolves. "I think you been hanging around Sparkles too goddamned long."

Her nose wrinkles above the shit-eating grin she wears. Axle cheerfully interjects, "Only if you let a citronella plant jack off in your face!" Being that she's a bit short -- though nowhere near as short as someone of the diminutive females that frequent the boundaries of New Orleans -- she has to hop up to get on the stool left vacant by the dread-locked individual.

"I haven't seen ol' Maximillions in a while. Not since the last time I saw you. You'll have to come join the Fixers for our next mud wrestling event. The first one we had was for just 'family'," she explains, making those stupid quote marks in the air with her first and middle fingers.

As the bartender approaches, she fishes a wallet out of her back pocket; AC/DC emblem burnished into the black leather bifold. She fishes out her ID and hands it over to the bartender as she requests, "Whiskey sour, please." She sits up straighter and flashes another toothy grin as the bartender checks the ID, then her, probably a couple of times. But it's a damn good fake ID.

"Yeah. No. I ain't much for wrasslin', as it were. Much less in mud." A rumble of a laugh catches at the back of his throat and he shakes his head. He sighs and admits, "I haven't seen Sparkles in a hot minute, but I haven't gone looking for him either. I know when I'll need him, and he usually shows up then. He's like Superman. Or the clap. I guess which depends on what you think of 'im"

The ID is handed back to Axle and the bartender fetches her drink, leaving her to put a sawbuck on the counter and push it over. "Keep it," she murmurs.

She picks up the drink to swallow a mouthful of the contents, pursing her lips as she muses over what Agatha has said. One of those sentences provokes another healthy grin. "More like herpes. There's a cure for the clap -- unless you get the super gonorrhea..." She trails off, nose wrinkling and says, "How do we keep circling back to such nasty subjects? Anyway... Good to see you!"

"I'm Hellraiser. Half of what I deal in is nasty, or at least turns out like that. Case in point a problem of roach hosts that needed dealing with, and that was to get another job done too. It always circles back to something." Agatha stops for a moment, and taps his chin. "Or leads somewhere. I don't think that far ahead with this kinda stuff. Also, there may not be a super gonorrhea, but some of the things a spirit can give you may make you wish for it. There was this spirit of-" He stops, shakes his head, and laughs. "Yeah, let's focus on something positive. How's shit going with your pack?"

She listens with interest as Agatha explains things, taking small sips over the rim of her tumbler, occasionally clinking the ice inside the glass. Another grin blossoms as he tries to back-pedal out of the topic once more. "They're doing okay; I think they wandered into Neverland last night to help Wayfarer. I've been on the threshold of that place but still kind of hesitant to explore."

"Other than that... Wishing we had a couple more 'ratha. I didn't think I would miss the hardass traditions my father's group follow, but... Ever since things changed for me, I feel like maybe I could use the extra discipline."

"I've no clue who or what Neverland is. I don't know if you mean Peter Pan, Michael Jackson, or some other kinda pied piper," Agatha admits after taking a long drink of his alcohol. Rum from the smekll of it. "I did point Lita your way, the fucking meat blender that she is. I can't say I offer any kinda discipline that doesn't involve trying it at least once and doing whatever you can to get what you need."

"Just a euphemism. For the place the Lost call their ... homeland or whatever it is. The place they were stolen away to?" Axle shrugs it off, listens to what he has to say about Lita. "I don't know if she would fit in with Ramsey or not. She seems kind of bigoted and he's pretty chill, but he might end up punching her lights out. Calling people monkeys and all that," she explains. "We don't have an alpha, but if we ever get one, it'll be me or Ramsey and not a newbie," she says with a certain... certainty.

"That part of why I ain't staying around Rahu for too long. It's why I like my folk, and sometimes the Gibbous. Sometimes. You don't know the test of patience until an old man has to tell you a story that's four hours long, and starts with, 'This story is true.'" Agatha rolls his eyes and finishes off the rest of his drink. "Speaking of the faeries I got invited to one of their shindigs, and it was, well, something. A whole lot less fighting, pissing constets, and dick-measuring than us. Still weird as shit, though."

Axle can't help but snicker-snort before she takes another drink of the liquor and sour mix, letting it sit in her mouth for a couple of moments before she swallows it. She leans onto the bar with an elbow and then... here comes Sexy Dan from wherever he goes when he isn't at the bar. At which point the Ithaeur twitches and shifts on the stool like something crawled up her back. "You want to come back to the warehouse with me and check out the mud pit?" she invites, sliding off the stool and wiping clammy hands on the seat of her overalls.

Sexy Dan gets a look from Agatha and he shrugs. He finishes off the last little sip of his drink, but it isn't quite enough. He lifts the glass up, and taps the bottom for a few drops to fall into his waiting maw. "We can jet, but you sure your lot is cool with strangers just walking on their turf? I've met a wolf or two ready to stomp a mudhole in my ass for being on their shit without them being cool."

"Dude. You're not a stranger," Axle points out, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm vouching for you right now, savvy? I mean, as long as you don't come jerk off in Upgrade's eye or take a shit on the garage floor... Or like, take a shit and don't clean it up. You never know what kind of antics happen there on a Saturday night. I'm sure someone has lost control of their bodily functions at least once," she jokes, lowering her arms, reaching to adjust her sun glasses so they cover her eyes, giving him a reassuring yet diabolical grin.

Agatha gets up from the bar stool, and was moving towards the door. He stops for a moment and shakes his head. "'Fuck you mean? Y'all just shit on the ground? What kinda food y'all got out there where that's normal? Or is it, like, you got a bunch of sawdust so might as well live it up like gerbils?"

She pauses, hands held up in a defensive posture. "Dude, dude. Chill. No, we don't. I'm talking like... Someone getting totally fucked up on mushrooms and having a little bowel.. mishap. Not like on purpose floor-shitting." What? Theirs seems to be one of the weirder conversations, Axle and Agatha. Axle adjusts her sunglasses, currently attired in a pair of denim bib overalls, a red AC/DC logo tee shirt, and a pair of black motorcycle boots.

She twitches once more, mood-shifts, face turning in the bartender's direction and her shoulders hunching up. "I feel you looking at me, Goodman, you fat fuck," she mutters, her creepily long fingers clenching and unclenching.

Agatha's dressed like the tourist and visitor to NOLA that he is. A wide-brimmed straw hat that hangs off the back of his neck, a Saint's tee, cargo shorts, and black tennis shoes. "I guess that makes sense," he answers the Ithaeur. "I know I've eaten or licked something that just fucked my whole body up. Especially, like, learning the hard truth about chocolate. Jesus, that first week was awful."

The Elodoth appears unbothered by the other werewolf's anger, used to his own rage when it arises. "Who is Goodman, and why-" His gaze falls on Sexy Dan, and then back to Axle. "Something bugging you?"

The bartender likely just smirks at Axle. She turns her face away once more and moves to join Agatha, adjusting her sunglasses again since she always seems to need something to do with her hands. The Ithaeur is not angry, from the appearance of her expression. More like grossed out. "I've seen that vermin without pants on. Don't ask. C'mon. We can sit in front of the wellspring at the warehouse and split a six pack. Or a thirty-pack?" she suggests, poking fun at the Elodoth's apparent endless thirst.

Agatha's dressed like the tourist and visitor to NOLA that he is. A wide-brimmed straw hat that hangs off the back of his neck, a Saint's tee, cargo shorts, and black tennis shoes. "I guess that makes sense," he answers the Ithaeur. "I know I've eaten or licked something that just fucked my whole body up. Especially, like, learning the hard truth about chocolate. Jesus, that first week was awful."

The Elodoth appears unbothered by the other werewolf's anger, used to his own rage when it arises. "Who is Goodman, and why-" His gaze falls on Sexy Dan, and then back to Axle. "Something bugging you?"

The bartender likely just smirks at Axle. She turns her face away once more and moves to join Agatha, adjusting her sunglasses again since she always seems to need something to do with her hands. The Ithaeur is not angry, from the appearance of her expression. More like grossed out. "I've seen that vermin without pants on. Don't ask. C'mon. We can sit in front of the wellspring at the warehouse and split a six pack. Or a thirty-pack?" she suggests, poking fun at the Elodoth's apparent endless thirst. (for Happy)

The door leading into the office is pushed open and out steps not the owner that many might recognize or know but someone new. Happy's right hand pushing the door to swing and near smack against the wall. A glare given to the king dick sign as he mutters to himself just shaking his head. "What kind of.." The words trailing off as he notices Agatha and Axle, his features shifting slightly. That look of someone encountering others like them for the first time. His chest raising and falling as he draws in a deep breath flitting his gaze from one to the other before he starts making his way over towards the bar.

A less than pleased look shot to the bartender behind the bar as he heads through the room cutting his way towards that opening leading behind the bar.

"Thirty-pack? What the hell kinda brew do you people got out there?" Agatha asks. His gaze is still on the bartender as he leans over to whisper to her. Low enough that the others might not hear, but the other wolf clearly could. "If you wanna jump 'im say the word, but I still say arson is the answer." Fire: the great problem solver. "I even got that arson spirit tucked away near downtown, too."

The office door opens and Axle's attention is drawn over there. Tension blossoms on her face; however, as Happy exits the office -- and no one else behind him -- the tension drains back out of her to the previous level of 'h8 Sexy Dan' normal. Her head tilts toward Agatha, a shame-the-devil grin arriving. Her hand raises to allow her to pull down those sunglasses, leaving them at the tippy-tip of her nose and exposing those unnatural green eyes of hers.

"It wouldn't be the first time... But methinks this place is a little too franch kwah-tuh centric for that, sugah," she says, adopting a rather insulting southern accent toward the end there. French Quarter-centric for the phonics challenged.

Hearing the comment falling from Agatha about jumping the bartender is enough to pique Happy's curiousity further in the pair that seem to be weighing the merits of leaving or of jumping Dan. In the end Happy's voice sounds out as he glances towards the pair. "If you do take him in back, Use the exit to the alley.. And don't leave me anything to clean up unless your leaving me a couple bills too." The words spoken bluntly and without a shred of humor showing that he may very well be serious as he makes that offer to the pair. The man clearly taking a new approach to HR and handling the issues with the bartender as he makes his way behind the bar snatching up a bottle of whiskey.

"I don't leave a mess," the Elodoth calls out. He crosses his hand over his chest, and flips two fingers up. "Scout's honor," says the man that clearly couldn't tell a scout from any other fool. He taps Axle on the shoulder and says, "Is this a lady's first thing, or tag team. I go high, you go low?" The question comes with a growing smile as he keeps his gaze locked no the bartender.

That voice chimes in its two cents without seeming worry about the other patrons in the joint -- or of "Sexy" Dan overhearing. Axle uses one lengthy index finger to push the sunglasses back up her nose and over her eyes. "So much for stealth," she mutters, volume quiet but not under her breath.

"Dude, that last time with you was a total fluke. I'm a lover, not a fighter." It's hard to tell whether she is looking at Happy or Dan at this point, arms raising to cross over her chest. "Best I can do is run over him with the Marauder," she laments. She's just a bad-ass in spirit, bless her heart. "Who's the new guy?" she asks Agatha. But perhaps it's because she assumes Happy will overhear and answer.

The words from Agatha have Happy's head giving a little dip in acknowledgement that he heard the Elodoth, "Then enjoy just not out here." There is a little wave of his bottle towards the door leading into the back room, His focus turning towards Dan. "Go on back and get the bar restocked there. Need to get rid of this fucking stock.." With Dan given that bit of direction from the new owner of the place Happy shifts his stance just enough to turn more fully towards Agatha and Axle. The words from the woman bringing his brow to lift as he hears that question over who he was, the serious looking older man telling her moments later. "Ain't it fucking obvious, My name's Happy."

"Wait?" Agatha l9ooks mildly upset when she talks about being a lover and not a fighter. "That's my line!" he exclaims loudly. "Elements of surprise are for new moons, anyway. You also gotta learn to adapt as the situation evolves." Agatha stops to start patting himself down for something. His voice falls back to a whisper, "But since this is your hunt, gearhead, you lead and I follow."

"You're the one from the Singapore whore house, I guess," Axle quips, hearkening back to earlier banter with Agatha, a grin flashed. She reaches to pluck off the sunglasses once more, tucking them into her hair, glancing around at other patrons in the joint and listening to Happy giving instructions to Dan -- who may or may not comply given his potential to have overheard them.

"I thought it was Dick," Axle interjects to Happy, flicking a glance back in his direction as another shit-eating grin overtakes her expression, those serious brows furrowed above her eyes. All her snarky remarks dropped, she starts to head for the door to the back room. Or perhaps there's one more...

"Glad I didn't wear my Crocs."

As Dan finally begins to pull away from the bar with a few choice words muttered under his breath aimed at Happy the new owner himself just leans back against the bar. His eyes settling upon Agatha and Axle with a mixture of curiousity and almost amusement given the bits and pieces of conversation he catches from the pair. The man's lips though still lacking any discernable smile beyond that faint twitching at the corners of his lips hearing the comment about a singapore whore house. When Axle interjects Happy near bristles before telling her flatly, "Nah, dick was the old guy.." A glance is given to the sign and he murmurs, "Something tells me he was a smaller fella."

"I'm gonna send mosquito spirits to your house you keep it up," Agatha grumps as he watches Dan leave. To Happy his attention goes, head tilting briefly. As Axle passes outward he begins to follow. He stops when nearing Happy to give the other Uratha a nod in greeting. "Hellraiser," he says before following after the Ithaeur. "And I ain't been to no whorehouse." He stops at the door to call back, "Not in Singapore anyway," and then he disappears with Axle.

A faint smile quirks at Axle's mouth as she listens to Happy speak about the former owner of Dead Johnny's. A small twitch happens as she tries not to smile bigger. After a few moments, she retorts, "He was about average. And my ex."

She pauses when Agatha does, offering toward the new owner, "Axle," after the Elodoth introduces himself. She also reaches into the bib pocket of her overalls and removes a cheap-looking velcro wallet. Opening it with the telltale crackle of plastic teeth being ripped apart, she fishes cash out of the back pocket of the bifold, tossing it on the bar. Looks like about $160.

"Looks like I'll have to owe you the rest," she proclaims before she starts onward and heads into the back with Agatha. As she goes with him, she says, "At least you didn't tell me you've never paid for it," she teases.

The introduction from Agatha has Happy's brow liftin and his head dips slightly to the man before glancing over watching as the pair heading into the back. The words from Axle on the prior owner bringing an almost wicked grin to spread along Happy's lips as he pushes off the bar, the man snatching up the money tucked it away in his jacket pocket in passing as he heads to follow in the wake of the pair as the head in back to pay a /visit/ to the bartender who had been a staple of the place from the last owner's tenure.

"I've paid for a lot of things, and sex is one of them. A whole lot less strings attached when you just got that itch you wanna get rid of, and trying to get a hookup ain't so good. Besides, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. Outside of the people that came back with the clap." A shrog follows that as Agatha heads out.

"You seem awfully fixated on the clap, dude," Axle softly says to Agatha. "Do you need me to take you to the free clinic?" She can't help but trail off into the giggles after that, eyes flicking within the back room to locate where Dan Goodman has wandered off to. Whereupon she'll head up toward him, cooing, "Dannn. Remember me? I'm the one with the teeth now, you fat fuck. I'm ready to get more blood on my hands." She clenches and relaxes said monkey-fingered hands. She may be recalling a previous conversation with the 'sexy' fella.

Moving into the backroom behind the pair and catching the words from Agatha there is a low mutter behind them, "Clearly..had very different experiences in Vegas.." Happy's head giving a little shake as he says that. Once past the back door he does stop though turning to latch the bolt of the door to secure the back room and at least one exit for the bartender. His eyes turning back to Agatha watching the man closely for several moments before the words from Axle draw his focus and that brow of his is made to lift. No movement made to stop the pair, in fact the only movement comes with a lifting of that bottle back to Happy's lips and another deeper pull of whiskey getting taken by the new owner of the place.

Axle's laughter is met with a flat expression from the normally talkative Elodoth. "Laugh it up, chuckles. Laugh it up." He crosses his arms over his chest when the door goes click behind him, and keeps his eyes on the barkeep. "Like I said, high and low."

"C'mon, pumpkin," Axle says toward Dan, reaching up to take off her sunglasses and abruptly winging them at him as she starts toward him. For someone who purports to have common sense, she doesn't utilize it when it comes to the Beshilu; perhaps flashbacks of the fellow naked are overruling her higher brain functions. That was a bad night all around, punctuated by an even weirder morning after.

Finally Happy pushes off the door, The bottle raised for one last healthy pull before it lowers and is set aside. The man listening closely to the other two as his focus finally comes to rest not on them but the bartender. While he might not be part of their trouble with the man he clearly wasn't above being a spectator or if need be a participant given his own issues with the man and certain looks and comments made to the human he had taken to since arriving in town.

Dan was getting another bottle, but then he's hissing. There's a whole lot of hissing coming from in. More so than what comes from that one mouth. "Stupid wolves," he grows. His mouth rips and his jaw falls to the ground. Literally. Mandibles start a clacking about as he starts moving toward Axle. "Been looking forward to getting my hands on you." He licks his top lip, and then the tongue hangs limply. "C'mere!" he screeches.

She could use a bottle herself right now. Not to drink from; but to bash him over the head with it. (Which is apparently a potentially contagious thought.) For once her chosen footwear is working to her advantage, the overall-clad, curly-haired Ithaeur meeting Dan halfway and putting the nicely textured sole of the right boot into the bastard's unmentionables, leaving herself exposed to attack; however, she's been stabbed in the stomach before and didn't learn no better about leaving herself open, so... Ya know. Live and don't learn?

Happy himself edges ever closer, making his way over towards /sexy/ Dan, When he sees Axle move in and deliver that swift kick to the man's hanging bits and sin against mankind there is a low rolling chuckle that leaves the Irraka, a rumbling thing edged in a growl as he quickly moves in. The man not hesitating once that first strike was made to head for the bartender bringing his bottle of whiskey in an arc angled for the man's head, that half bottle of whiskey having a nice little heft to it making for a not half bad improvised tool in some cases.

Sexy Dan may lose that nickname. When Axle kicks him in the balls a little bit of flesh falls of with it, and the crotch of his pants sags with the newly added weight. Then he catches a bottle to the head, and he uses some of that learned human language as he shouts, "Fuck! Fucking bitches!"

Blood begins to flow like a small waterfall from his head, and he tries to hold up the flap of skin hanging down. "Enough!" he shrieks, and from his widening maw comes something not so sexy. He vomits on them, launching acid and mililions upon millions of tiny little rats at them - all of them squeeking on the way out.

"What the fuck!" is Axle's (and anyone's) natural reaction to the swift change in Dan's maw -- or perhaps to the miasma of molten liquid and rodents that comes spewing out of that gaping orifice and onto herself and the new owner of the establishment within which they have engaged in these shenanigans. She stumbles back a couple of boot-steps in the process, squealing and wrestling with her steaming clothes; wrestling out of them, rather, in an attempt to get the acidic liquid off as quickly as possible. She just got these overalls worn in!

Despite that sea of rats and acid that are thrown up across the area and that soak him the man does growl low and there is that moment of pause that shows the anger raising like a wellspring from within only to be stopped short of that full on get the fuck out of dodge cause someone death raged out stage. The man bristling there as he begins to tear at his own clothes cussing low all the while as he yanks off his jacket tossing it to the side causing his gun and a rather large hunting knife to clatter free skidding along the floor. His hands swiftly moving to begin ripping at his shirt as he growls out, "The fuck is this mother fucker"

More of those tiny shards of the Plague King fall to the floor, skittering and squeeking all the while. The sight caught Agatha by surprise as the Elodoth was lighting up a cigarette. "I ain't cleaning this shit up!" he shouts, probably confusing the people in the bar on what exactly the fuck is going on.

The beshilu was getting scared now, and looks between the three werewolves. The fat shell that was Sexy Dan explodes in a ball of confetti. Instead paper and string it's bone, blood, and guts that showers the Room. The only thing left are his legs, and they tumble to the ground with a splash amid the blood and acidic vomit left by the now shattered Host, and the overlarge rats and shards skitter away to reform later.

Modesty be damned; when someone's clothes are covered in acid, they're smart to get them off of them. Axle strips down the overalls and leaves them in a puddle around her booted feet, tearing off the tee shirt and dropping to the floor so she can wrestle out of the boots, stopping when she gets down to undergarments. She wipes at her skin with both hands, but forces herself to stop when there's blood and sloughing and well, no need to go into detail, n'est-ce pas?

Teeth chattering and some visible twitching, she hisses out, "Going to kill that f-fucking fat f-fuck," making a mewling sound as she rakes hands through her hair -- hopefully not losing =hair=, too.

Finally it all takes its toll on Happy, the acid and the rats and the pain caused by both, Midway through ripping his shirt up and off there is a lower growl. And about half a second later its followed with that sickening sound of bones shifting and reforming and flesh suddenly reshaping as the biker finds himself loosing to that other side as he begins to slip into a death rage. The backroom of the bar while not going to win any beauty contests likely about to have more issues as the man shifts.

Fuck a cigarette. The front of Agatha is a goddamned mess. He's shivering, more so from what he's covered in. At least his hat was fine. He pulls it from behind his back to set it on his head, and just sighs. "One o' y'all got a smoke. That was my last one." The now drenched cigarette is dropped to the ground, and he starts to start digging out some of the bone shrapnel.

The wee, acid-covered mice are still moving about underfoot. The shards of the Host have left, but he left his little friends with them. They trying to get in and out of everything,a nd if folks don't start stomping they might start crawling up the wolves.

In no state to deal with an angry werewolf monster, Axle tucks herself into a nice fetal ball, being sure to cover her head with her arms as she bemoans, "I can't believe I paid for this shit!" It's around that time the little mice-sized shards discover she's still there on the floor, so she's forced to squeal and scuttle away from them, stomping at the host's buddies with her sock-clad feet. She makes for the room's couch so she can clamber up onto the cushions -- ducking any Gauru swipes or what-not along the way.

Oh piece of candy, or in this case piece of rat host and the little minions scurrying. That cause of his being /triggered/ in such a way to cause the furry death machine to come out gaining his initial ire as he begins to sweep at the floor with his claws after hunching over closer to the ground, The biker and bar owner turned angry monster doing his very best in that state to destroy what was in his path in the form of the rats launching into the bar. The fetal positioned Axle and the bone shard plucking Agatha not yet noticed by the Irraka.

He was digging one shard out of his cheeke, but the Elodoth knows that sound. That low, rumbling growl that snaps him right outta reality. "Ah fucking shit," he shouts. He focuses all of his energy, literally and figuratively, on calming Happy down. "Hey, man. it's all right. Not sure what set you off, but it's cool." He looks around the mess of a room, and correctly corrects, "Mostly cool."

The words from Agatha bring that large hulking creature to raise up from near the bar, claws rending the wood as they drag across the top of the bar gouging deep into the wood as he turns to focus on the man. Tht chest raising and falling, The words and that subtle nudge from the Elodoth has that hulking creature relaxing. Moments later there is that sound and sight of bone and flesh shifting and changing as he begins to shift down out of that hulking monster to leave a rather naked and more than a little bloody Happy.

Agatha looks around, but no down. Axle's bugging out and now Happy's rage is coming down. "Shit," he grumbles. "Look, man, I got some extra clothes for yall I can get outta the back of my trunk, but I ain't gonna explain this shit to the people out there." He looks around and shivers again. "It's like a fucking blood orgy back here, man."

The now naked and bloody biker looks down and then up before uttering loudly, "Not a fucking gain..God damn it.. I liked those mother fucking jeans." The man's head shaking quickly as he turns and begins to look around for his jacket. Not much shame showing from the man with the 1 percenter tattoo done in a military badge style across his left bicep. The man making his way over to gather up his jacket finally finding it only to mutter, "Stupid fucking curse.." A glance is given back finally to Agatha and he is watched a few moments before nodding, "That..would be handy. My clothes are at the hotel.."

"Yeah, you always gotta keep a bugout bag. Never know when a chick might steal yoru clothes or you might catch 'em on fire." This has to have happened too much for him to be this prepared. "Not sure if most of my shit'll fit you, but I got some baggy clothes in there too. You might wanna get a shower installed in this place, though. It'll help for the drunk ass people to." He lifts his heands in innocence, then. "Sadly, I ain't been drunk since I changed, though. So no worry there, man."

The older biker gives a small nod hearing the words from Agatha, "Bugout bag is good to keep, mine's currently indisposed otherwise would have it either outside on my bike or up int he damned office." The man's words coming out a bit rougher edged than before as he moves to sit down on a nearby chair bringing one hand down to cover himself and using the table to help the rest of the way to allow for some decency and no awkwardness or less anyways. "Will keep that in mind about the shower.. And change.. yeah might have to ask you some about that later. Far as drunk, you tried shine?"

"Just hold on for a moment," Agatha asks of Happy. "I ain't got a leather vest or any of that. I maybe got a leather jacket, but it's got flowers and shit on it." That ends with a laugh, and heads towards the door. "Yeah, man. Type of shit to put hair on your chest and some grey in your hair."