Strikers Saloon

A fast reader. Fast enough, anyway, in comparison to most others whom this prince works with. That rubs Stolas the right way. Then again, he would imagine it is a necessary, or at the very least beneficious skill in Striker's line of work. Any bounty hunter and hitman worth their weight in salt knows to sort out the fine print first before leaving their mark anywhere on a sheet of paper. And what fine ink he uses. The owlish one may have spent a second admiring it when the contract was returned to him.

"Fantastic. I suggest you hold on to a copy, to be safe." He retrieves a blank sheet and places the original next to it. A solitary hand briefly hovers over it, scintillating with a purplish hue that then magically transcribes the contents from one page to the other, in a faithful one-to-one recreation. Useful sorcery for a bookkeeper's gambit.

"I've good reason to believe it will be a pleasure to work together." The fresh copy is handed off to the imp. Something about the other's no-nonsense, if somewhat cocksure demeanor inspired a certain feeling of safety. The hefty price tag is not for naught. Word on the wire says as much. "I shall make the full payment available to you in brief."

...an offer of homemade wine? Surely he jests, but... "Oh, do not tempt me. I may drink you out of house and home.~ On the topic... care for a nip? Name your poison, I must have it in store."

-- || @strikers-saloon

Striker's attitude did inspire confidence and security when it came to his clients, as most were unsure, scared, and more often than not, absolutely enraged without any proper outlet. So to see a killer act as if the job had already been completed did settle stomachs and minds, and in a way it was the reason most hired the cowboy, besides his guarantee of finishing a job satisfactorily. Taking his copy of the contract, he'd give it another once over, one part amazed at how exact it was to the original, and to make sure nothing was missing, all done in a simple run of his eyes over the page before he'd carefully stash it in a compartment in his satchel.

"Unless you're able to chug caskets of the stuff, I think I'd be fine, I run a proper distillery after all." The saloon's basement did house his distillery and wine-making operations, and with ample storage, he'd be amazed a single Goetia being able to drink enough to make him worry about going at a loss.

"I would not say no to a nip, but taking into consideration our obvious differences in uh... circles." He'd motion from the cowboy to the prince. "I'd not say no to something fruity and sweet, or whatever has a kick like fire down the throat." Usually he'd never permit himself to drink with a client, but as Stolas had proven himself quite the polar opposite to any of his past clients, or any royal for that matter, he felt it interesting enough a moment to see how the hospitality of theirs would extend to.

@autarchi0s

“He does have amazing eyes. I’m not very good with portraits yet, but I keep practicing.” He chuckled softly.

“I play banjo, but I love to paint more. Mostly watercolors, but I use ink for the fussy details….but I have trouble with portraits usually….my subjects look very…muddy…and ehhh, blurred.”

He thought on the last bit, and opened his sketchbook.

It was heavy watercolor paper, and filled with flowers, buildings, and landscapes of hell, but to Remi’s innocent eyes, it looked like he was painting scenes of New York, Paris, New Orleans, Rome, in all their mysterious and romantic glory.

“Landscapes, flowers, nature…whatever inspires me the most to capture the moment. I suppose that I simply don’t see Hell the same as anyone else, but my paintings do sell, just….not very often.”

The last page he’d worked on looked like the front of the saloon.

Though instead of where it was, Remi had depicted it in an earthly frontier setting, surrounded with native desert plants and flowers, a scrubby little Joshua tree out front, blooming cacti, and a riot of life and color that simply wasn’t there entirely.

“I just finished this up before I came inside.”

There was a noticeable pause with Striker when he saw the painting of the saloon, and in the few seconds that he was lost in the sight of the painting, he was reminded of Wrath Ring, and an odd sense of nostalgia and longing, like a place he'd never been to, perhaps another life if things had gone differently.

"That's a very nice one, looks like the true western that this saloon could have been..." He'd pull himself back from the recesses of the past that lay clouded in his mind, like memories from someone else, he wasn't sure if it was all wishful thinking or that he had forgotten them.

"I've always enjoyed unfocused artwork, where I don't have to strain to get every detail, though the obvious exception for me are the eyes."

He wasn't planning on charging Remi for the food, and now he wondered how difficult it would be for him to get the painting.

"It's a shame that more people don't know of your art, though perhaps for this moment it's a boon for me, cause I'd love to buy that painting of the saloon from you, it'd look great in my office, or out here in the main saloon. 

There did seem to have been a few more besides Emily’s own fall, recalling like the cherubs and then some other ones. Though being, well, she was the seraphim of joy. Didn’t seem right seeing someone missing a limb. “I’m certain I wouldn’t do that..” She said now thinking back, all of that pain further brought on by them, the exterminators. That definitely wasn’t right. But she did slightly perk up, but might be limited now that she is fallen. “Well.. I’m not sure it will work, I’m not entirely myself anymore.”

Chuckling to himself, Striker wasn't surprised by the answer, to get a quick and easy fix on his predicament would have been too optimistic, and he'd already settled himself in the situation and accepted his reality.

"Was a long shot, didn't expect ya to be able to pop a new leg on me with confidence at any rate." He wasn't sure what changed with angels and seraphs when they fell from heaven, and as for the moment things felt a bit awkward, he was more than happy to direct the topic onto something else.

"If you don't mind me asking, how was it before you fell, how would you describe your change just by being thrown down here to Hell?"

Free...?

Asher tilts his head, not quite understanding what Striker meant by free. Well as long as he was with him then that's all he cared about. Maybe he'd come to understand what that word meant later. Listening rather intently as Striker began to explain what his work would entail, he would nod occasionally in acknowledgment, more than eager to start working right away. Not only was he going to be working with Striker from now on but he'd get to meet many new faces and maybe even make some friends? A bit of a far-fetched concept especially for a robot but it wasn't something he'd be opposed to either.

"I get b-b-breaks?" The robot's tail lifts some, "What's a-a 'break'? I'm not ac-actually breakin' s-something am-am I?" Genuinely never heard of such a thing. Why would anyone give a break to a robot of all things? Robots didn't need breaks.

"And I get my ow-own p-p-place as well? Well gee... You're uh r-really s-spoiling me there, s-sir- Striker. I never had a place of my own... You s-sure that you're o-o-okay with letting me have a place?" Another concept he's not familiar with: having his own room. Seems Striker is introducing him to a lot of new things. Asher can't help feeling a little uneasy, mostly for the fact he's not used to these things. It's enough to have his usual bright and cheery smile taper into a small frown.

"Not t-that I'm ungrateful just g-gosh... You've already got me new cl-clothes and-and now I get breaks and my o-own place. You sure you're okay with that...?" How is he going to make it up to his new boss? He's going to have to work extra hard to make up for everything which he doesn't mind. As long as Striker is happy and content with his progress then everything should be fine, right?

Striker had been happy to purchase Asher from the old bag, feeling even more confident that he did the right thing when he heard that they didn't even know what a break was. Perhaps they were only a robot with weird coding, but if it was just a glitch in the numbers or something actual and unique, he wasn't going to try to take advantage of it as others perhaps would, as he probably would have done back in the day.

"Well, breaks are times where you can take to relax and not have to focus on work, usually up to 30 minutes where you can disregard work and spend time to recharge, relax or mentally decompress if you have to." He'd take a few steps back to lean against his desk, still smiling at them, happy that he was able to at least give them a new chapter in their existence where he'd hopefully make things better for them.

"Of course, you should get your very own room, I'm not goin' to treat you different than anyone else who works for me, you're a part of the Saloon now, and as nice it would be to have you in my room, I feel it'd do you good to have a place just for you and what you decide to do with the room is up to you." Reaching over to a box on the desk, he'd open it and extract an intricate key that he'd hold up to Asher. It was larger than any normal one, with unique etchings on it, and Striker held it out to them. "It's your key now, the room up the stairs and the first to the right is yours, and my room is right across from yours, so you know where I reside."

The spider nods. "Yeah, It's ain't much but we could go ta 'Club Hell 666' 'm a worker there too - 'M sure that Valentino, my boss wouldn't mind me havin' afew drinks. N' hey maybe I can give ya a dance if ya wanted."

"I am sure that I wouldn't mind either. I mean I have th' holes, gag reflex or a lack o' one... stamina, All o' th' things fer a good fuckin' night." Angel grins rubbing his chest fluff teasingly.

"...But yeah, what was I talkin' 'bout--? Oh yeah th' bar in this club has some great ass drinks."

A curious purr escaped the cowboy, he's heard quite a bit about Valentino, another overlord that preyed on certain folks, still, he imagined himself safe from anything that moth would try with him, at worst he'd just say he's a paying customer or something.

"Then let's go, I'm gettin' rather thirsty, and can only imagine what you'd be interested in talkin' about when we're all cozy and sauced up for the evening, see if either of us starts to get cold."

Walking up beside Angel, he'd hold out his arm for them to take, looking perhaps out of place, but for a cowboy from Wrath Ring, he was a southern gentleman through and through. "Next time we can go to a place I know."

The stag tilted his head, listening carefully.

He might be innocent, might be sweet-natured, naive, trusting, but he wasn’t a clueless sinner.

Not all the time, really.

He quickly realized he was talking to someone Alastor cared very, very deeply for, and knowing how rare that was, understood he could trust Stiker completely.

“It IS true, he’s not as scary or dangerous as the rest of the world says, he’s taking very good care of me…. And apparently good care of you, too.” He chuckled.

“So, you’re seeing each other then? Dating? How delightful! It’s good knowing he’s not so alone aside from me. I know how rare and difficult it is for him to care so much for anyone like that, so if he trusts you, then I do too. “

He smiled, bright as sunshine after the rain.

“Though…I don’t think that this was exactly how you planned to find out your paramour had a baby brother, I suppose. It it very nice to meet you though! I’m very glad that you bring mon frere such joy.”

Striker's face had gotten red as he was waiting for the response, and it was nothing like he had anticipated, it felt only awkward by how he had expected it to go awkwardly, so the red cheeks quickly returned to their natural hue as he chuckled.

"Yeah, could say that things had gotten a lot more open between us, visits and getting to be genuine with our feelings... I first met him when I was out, had begun to draw his face, and got lost while drawing his eyes." He still remembers that day with fondness, the closest he's ever been to the Overlord.

"I sketch with charcoal, oh and I do play the guitar and piano, keeps my hands and mind focused." He hadn't expected to have things in common with Al's younger brother, let alone that they had one. "I just love drawing eyes, they can be incredibly deep, and Al has the ones I can't seem to draw fully, no map can ever fully capture those peepers." He chuckled again, trying to not be too sickly sweet about Al to Remi.

"What do you create the most? Do you draw and paint?" Striker leaned over on the table, only a little bit, but enough to notion his interest in learning about Remi and their interests, since if they were to be a part of the same family, it'd be good to learn about the other.

Just hearing that made his gears turn in his head. What kind of wild things does this imp do in bed? He doesn't know... yet though he's so imagining it with a light lipbite. "Ooo fuck... I can't wait until then."

He's already imagining what they're gonna do and Angel's jittering, inside of course. Hell you could tell that there were gears turning in this spider's head. "Pfff nah I flirt wit' a'most everyone n' hey want ta go get a drink while we get ta know eachother? If cha are up fer it o'course?"

Years of people-watching had made Striker pretty good at guessing what was going on with people, even if it was only surface level, and at the moment, the spider was interested, but the promise of new experiences seemed to excite them.

"A drink sounds good, you know of a place that got the good drinks?" He wasn't about to drag them to HIS saloon, but if it ended up being a place with poor quality or selection, he might just have to give the gift of a properly made cocktail or two. "I'm curious as to where a famous actor like yourself would go to drink."

"Striker... I like that n' oh me? Ya don't know me, surprisin' well 'm th' one n' only Angel Dust, shnookums - lets say 'm a famous celebrity actor o' sorts.. porn actor but still a actor ain't it?"

Angel made a slight noise as he leans back up straight. "Rough n' tough is my style though I don't mind slow burners at all especially when they're this Sexy." He chuckled out putting one hand on his hip, tilting his head. "'M sure when th' time comes I can get a ride n' ya can help me out." And there's another flirt, wink wink-nudge nudge.

"Can promise ya when the time comes, ya gonna find work to be borin' after what we get up to." When he was in the proper space, he knew well how to flirt, even though it was for now only promises, he still wanted to find out more about this -actor-. "Satan knows I've been anywhere from a quickie in the broom closet to the kind that takes a whole day before I'm done, so it'd be good to know a bit about ya before then, so we'd get to have things to talk about." Having a chat during intercourse was difficult and had more often than not only soured a mood, so Striker wanted to make perfectly sure before engaging with someone as cute as Angel. "Do ya always flirt with cowboys, or is this a first for ya?"

"Hm?" Blitzo raised a brow at the second to last comment, tail swooshing before he noted the door clicking open. He wasted no time in pulling the door open and sliding in, checking the car out from the inside. "Smart ride," he mused. "Low profile. Piece of junk."

Almost insinuating and insult. Not quite.

"Well, I mean, you were an ass to him, let's be honest, Strikes. Why wouldn't Mox 'hate' you. But nah, I didn't get that impression I got... More like... Shellshocked? Traumatized" he rubbed one of his horns. He opened the glove compartment and looked inside. "They told me me most of what happened, yeah. Kind of a jackass, dude. But nothing I wouldn't do, to be honest." he drew in a deep breath. "Thanks for not hurting Moxxie. We find this damn thing. You promise not to go after Stolas for any other job this bitch Stella might call you on?" he asked. "And we don't have to be enemies. He's our means of operation. I ask you this, for both our good. Because if you can't agree to it..." he opened his arms to gesture. "I don't want to be enemies.

He cut right to the chase.

Striker had half expected them not to have heard the whole thing, but it seemed they got everything from Moxxie's side, and as much as he wanted to give his point of view, he didn't see it worth spending his time for this, it wasn't a moment to lose, especially trying to defend himself when he had himself felt attacked when those sore points had been pressed so firmly in their last interaction.

The fact Blitzo knew about his target being Stolas was surprising to Striker, the fact they were calm about it was even worse as he'd seen this too many times before where he'd get a gun pointed at him in a moment to try to take him out. Still, he didn't feel Blitzo would do it just to off him, if anything they had the prime opportunity to blast him through the window when he was distracted.

"Even with what happened at the ranch, I promised to drop the contract and refuse any other from the banshee, so you don't have to worry about that." He let the comment about the car slide, it was the reason he had it, to be overlooked and thought poorly of. "I care about getting my gun back because if it goes back to Stella, I'm going to lose everythin' I've worked so hard form, my saloon and home, my standing, and if she's feeling horrible, probably send assassins after me for losin' her gun in the first place, she's a right piece of work."

Flipping through his book of secrets, he'd tap at a particular page as he'd feel like he'd found the most likely spot. "Alright, if you're helpin' me findin' this thing, we're goin' to a market I know of..." Striker finally looked properly at Blitzo, with bags under his eyes and the tense muscles that were holding him awake by sheer willpower by this point. "You don't belong there, so stick by me and you won't be harassed... We'd be looking for a fancy rifle, not sure if Moxxie described it to ya or not, imagine a black rifle with silver-holy lookin' markings on it."

Roi giggles at the ticklish and playful nips and gropes he received, gladly basking in his lover's kisses and affection while letting out happy purrs. He instantly is wrapping himself around Striker, tail and limbs clinging to his cowboy so that they could be as close as possible. Some may say that the two were too much. Too clingy. But with what they went through, it was only natural they'd be this way,

"Oh, you and that sweet talk of yours," He blushed, nuzzling his snout against Striker's before placing a tender kiss to his lips. Roi lingers there for a moment, simply savouring Striker's lips before pulling away and lovingly looking into his man's eyes.

"My love, my sun. My everything," He sighs, smiling as he caresses a hand to Striker's cheek. Cradling his face as he'd pull him in for yet another kiss.

Striker would slowly make his way over to the couch so he could do more than just hold on with arms and tail, here he wanted every inch of Roi and once they got to the comfortable cushions, he'd gently get on and put his beloved husband under himself while they only got closer.

Indulging in affection, kisses, and nips, his hands found spots to squeeze and hold on firmly, caressing shapes and gently scritching spots he remembered from before would be the places Roi liked, all the while sounding like a chainsaw revving up with the gravelly purrs that always came when the cowboy felt possessive.

"I'd destroy the ring if you only asked me to, I'd watch the place burn in holy and unholy fire from a behemoth stompin' around this place, all to be alone with you!" His colorful words would paint an interesting picture, but when it came to assassins, Striker was practically a poet compared to them. "I have no plans for the next few days besides takin' care of you, I hope that won't disrupt any plans you might have."

"Pfff... What? No, no, no silly I meant ya. I think ya could warm me up when I need it.. or jus' an'time infact." Angel chuckled sliding one of his fingers down Striker's arm, batting his eyes.

"Plus fer ya ya'd get a free taste o' my services on me~" He purred as he leans in right by his face grinning. Man for a 8'1 foot spider he sure is horny more than anything.

"Really now, ?" Striker tilted his head as he looked up at Angel, even with a relaxed stance, his eyes scanned the sinner, weighing his options on what to do next with the offer given to him while he didn't mind the casual touch on his arm.

"Perhaps, though ya do look more interestin' than just a random lay, and as much as I'd love 'ta tear your clothin' off, I'm the kind of cowboy that likes takin' it slow." Striker was quite familiar with bedfellows of many types, though he was the slow and savory type that liked to tease and work others up. "Let's start with names, mine's Striker, trouble-shooter, and quick-fix imp, who might you be?"

"Yeah well, who could be cruel 'nough ta not like plushes, they keep ya warm when ya need a cuddle. Speakin' o' that I see another that could keep me warm too~"

And here comes his flirting again, can't this spider go one second without flirting?

Cue an oblivious cowboy as he'd mistake the flirt for something more innocent. "This other plush here is for another, ya a greedy sinner, cute, handsome even, but this one here I won't budge on."

In his other hand was a small chibi plush of a Hellboar, this one having a tag with the recipient on it. "Perhaps I'd get you a body pillow plush next time?" Even at six feet, Striker still had things fly right over his head.

Roi is already dragging Striker in so he can start kissing all over his face. His hunky cowboy husband definitely fit the bill.

Striker returned with kisses and playful nips, in turn, he'd wrap arms and tail around his beloved Roi, having missed his sweet forever-imp

"There's my sweet man, my beloved world." His hands take in the familiar feel of his husband's body, giving them a generous amount of squeezes.

Remi smiled, sweet, innocent, very out of place in hell.

Especially when it appeared to be genuine.

“Well, If it’s not too much trouble, the jambalaya with venison then. But if it’s too much fuss, y’all can just surprise me with whatever is easier. “ again with the too-sweet smile.

At the next question, Remi nodded, looking delighted Striker knew of his adopted sibling.

“Ah! Mais, Oui! Alastor is indeed my big brother. I’m usually out wandering around and painting, so it might explain why we haven’t crossed paths yet.” He gave a giggle, but wasn’t sure if Striker was fully safe yet.

Considering some past interactions with other sinners and imps in hell, he didn’t want to borrow trouble for his sibling.

“I may be a good artist, but I have a horrid sense of direction. On the plus side, I’m often led, in a sense, to those who are more inclined to help me rather than be dangerous to me. But…you know my Brother then? By reputation, or are you a friend?”

Striker wrote the order of jambalaya with venison down and handed it to a passing waiter who took it with them to the kitchen, leaving Striker there with Remi. He'd sit down on the opposite side of the table of the booth as he looked at them, rather like he was worried about giving bad news, as it was perhaps not the first meeting he would have wanted to when meeting his boyfriend's younger brother.

"Well… You could say something like that." He had to put his brain to work fast, as one doesn't just waltz out saying they are with their brother and already done a kiss, but then again, one wouldn't want to say the wrong thing or make them think something else, he'd not want to lie to them.

"I've known your older brother for a while, talked with him on several occasions and I think he'd an amazing fellow and all the rumor of him bein' such a menace or danger is a bit much fear mongering really." He'd wave his hand dismissively, as if not trying to go on the fact that danger was what he enjoyed, and may be one of the reasons he liked testing the waters with Alastor.

"I mean…" he wasn't sure how to say anything else that would skirt around the fact, so instead he'd try to put it as gently as he could.

"I know Alastor a bit more than most, second only to you perhaps, though I may have a few firsts with him that you don't… Like being together with him." He said it as nonchalantly as he could, though he felt his body tense up like a piano wire as he held his breath, waiting for their reaction.