1.1 Giddy Fortune's Furious Fickle Wheel [Sprout+}

Patrick felt the beast edge closer to the surface and reflexively his eyes narrowed menacingly and a deep animalistic growl bubbled up out of his throat as the hackles rose and begin to imperceptibly lengthen on the back of his neck. He felt so very much like showing this punk-kid just how in-depth he was and just how way out of depth they were. Instead he gripped the back of the chair so tightly that he felt the wood compress and tried to focus on the lady's voice. He even forced himself to turn his head in her direction in order to shift his gaze towards her hoping that would help spare the kid. It was a struggle to say the least, but his head turned slowly. What he wanted to do was his past and not his future nor should it be his present. He pulled on the life-line that he used from time to time when Eddie had pointed out way back when they met that his giving into that beast made him no less a monster than the monsters he had been hunting and that there was a better way. He stared deeply into the lady's eyes slowly losing himself in their depths as he worked to calm the beast down once more. His growl slowly subsiding as the rage of the beast left him feeling like steam rising from his body and with the release of the steam the inner pressure that wanted to explode diminished. Still almost sounding like partly an animalistic growl Patrick said, "I think I will see what is keeping my order." He then slowly and fluidly stood, turned and moved towards the kitchen.

Sprout Simon nearly wets himself at the aggressive display, but keeps his own counsel. Good to know, he thinks sarcastically, as if he had planned the 'test'.

McGregor moves towards the kitchen door (which runs just to one side of the bar). He can hear excited voices arguing rapidly in what is probably Hungarian - a male and a female, likely Patrice and her husband, Carl. Zsofia is behind the bar shaking her head as she can obviously hear the outburst.

---

'Oh sure one issue to the next.' Patrick thinks to himself as forces himself to put his hands palms down upon the bar surface and tries not to growl so much as he asks, "Is there problem miss?" he asks Zsofia

Yanric turns to Sprout. Out of the side of his mouth, he says:

"You can't let that pup scare you. He can smell it, I'm sure. Just as we can smell him.

Do what you would do to a disobedient pet. Bump him on the nose next time. I will be there to protect you, never fear."

Yanric smiles mischievously, and winks at Sprout.

"All in jest. All in jest, I assure you." Another playful look to Sprout.

"Terrible business with this Haze. Have we a lead? A location we can start our search?"

"Well, I could try and buy some. If I had money. See where they takes us."

Zsofia rolls her eyes and replies to McGregor in her lightly accented voice, "They are having a food flavor argument. Over how much paprika." Zofia rolls her eyes. She looks a bit abashed and then forces a smile even as she seems to inwardly wince in rhythm to her mother's verbal battering of her father. "I am sure they will have what you need soon."

Her practiced smile doesn't reach her eyes.

In reply to Yanric, Kebi shakes her head. "I do not know of such a location. But, I am sure our detective associates have such knowledge - at least those areas where the consumers have been most frequently found."

Guessing what their whispered conversation had been about when his partner left the table, Eddie’s eyes narrow with suspicion as he leans back in his chair and takes both Sprout and Yanric in. "It would be wise..." he begins, matter of factly "...Not to wind my colleague up. He has a temper, which he successfully holds in check. When he struggles, I help him. But if you push too far, I won’t stop him. I don’t take to the racism in the hidden world, like I don’t take to it in the non hidden world. I understand that there are differences, and traditions, but when we take the warrant card, we are coppers. We do what we do to protect everyone, human, face, vampire or lycan. I would expect that to be respected. We all have our part to play, and we won’t get in the way of your methods, for the greater good. But play nice"

Yanric waves a hand, as if to dismiss the detective’s sentiments.

"Bah! You missed all of the pleasantries we exchanged before your arrival, detective. You have no need to fear.

Of course, I have the utmost respect for the work your division does to keep us safe. We are indebted to you!

Speaking of which. I believe our friend here..." he motions to the waiting Kebi "... asked if you had any information on some hot spots for this Haze. What can you tel us?"

Sprout Simon watches Eddie as he tells his story. "You're saying that if he loses his temper you'll just let him run amok, unless by your judgement we were really really nice to him? I'm thinking we should be the sort of team that communicate by post up until the final showdown." He laughs, and winks at Kebi. "Seriously."

Letting out a choked bark of laughter, Eddie smiles at Sprout. "No lad, I just meant play nice. You don’t have to be nice to him. But don’t go out of your way to needle him either."

Sprout Simon looks into the rafters, and muses aloud, "Sprout Simon wonders if he goes out of his way to do anything. He also wonders if taking someone with barely controlled anger issues into contact with Haze is setting us up for an unnecessary amount of excitement." As if that was internal monologue, he says to Eddie, "That sounds wise."

To say Patrick was not in the mood for more extended drama would be an understatement as such he leaned a bit harder on the bar and again tried to suppress the growl unsuccessfully, "Well if its ready, except for the paprika can I just have it as is."

Zsofia considers McGregor's words and then nods sharply. "I'll grab the food," she says and spins on her heels - skirt flitting with the twirl - and disappears through the swinging door to the back.

After a few short barks from Carl and Patrice - likely chiding Zsofia for interrupting them - Zsofia returns with a tray loaded with food for two.

With a half smile, Zsofia says, "I can bring these to your table."

Kebi leans back, crossing one leg over the other and she scans the table before her as if looking for something and sighs, a look of disappointment on her face. "I most certainly do need an espresso," she says softly.

Kebi stands. "Gentlemen," she nods to the others. "I am off to obtain an espresso from the tavernkeeper. Would anyone else care for one?"

"No," he growls and taps the top of the bar with one finger a bit more forcefully than he had wanted to, "here."

With her eyes widening a bit from the forcefulness of McGregor's tone, Zsofia thrusts the tray out towards the detective placing about as much distance between herself and the riled man as she can.

"Right, then," she says. "All yours, for you and your mate."

Seeing Kebi stand, Eddie indicates that he would like an espresso too. He turns his head to look at sprout, makes eye contact, then too looks into the rafters, musing loudly "Detective sergeant Edwards wonders why, of all the accomplices he could have on this venture, he is sitting at a table with someone he would normally be arresting, probably for possession of Haze, and why this obvious criminal can’t produce some right now?". As he trails off, he looks back to Sprout with a small smile and a twinkle in his dark eye "I’m waiting on word from one of me snitches, and if it pans out, we should be able ter get our hands on some haze tonight or tomorow"

"Tonight would be better. I’m sure a talented group of individuals such as ourselves could procure some Haze with a bit of legwork.

Perhaps we should go lean on your snitch? Or better yet, send Sprout here to get a score. A sting operation, of sorts. I don’t know the lingo."