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As he finished cleaning his mixing glasses, he laughed softly. “That’s quite the compliment. I really appreciate it,” he said, his smile warm and genuine. “I only offer the secret menu to customers I like.” He gave JD a lingering look, his smirk returning. “And I like your vibes, handsome.”

“Now, as for payment,” Dom continued, leaning on the bar with a casual air, “I usually take cash, and I appreciate a good tip if you liked your service. That can definitely be cash…” He paused, a mischievous glint in his eye as he remembered his own past. “Or other services,” he chuckled, more to himself than anyone else.

He plucks the umbrella from the rim of his glass and fidgets with it idly as he listens. He hums softly, sliding his fingers along the tiny apparatus to open and close it. "Other services," he drawls, "not the first time I've heard that. Would you even want my services, though, chéri?"

He smirked at the mention of his secret menu item. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. You’ll be begging for more,” he teased, tossing in a wink for good measure. As he poured himself a glass of water, he took a refreshing sip, the coolness revitalizing him.

"Begging? Really?" His lazy smile sharpens into a curved smirk. "That's a tall order to live up to- I'll be looking forward to it." He chuckles again, low and fond.

He leans against the polished counter and swirls his drink idly. "So modest, chéri," he drawls, "you've got to be the best I've met since getting here, if that counts for anything. The pretty face doesn't hurt, though." He pokes his tongue out teasingly. "But the drinks are what'll keep everyone coming back, surely. And with the promise of a secret menu item... well, you've got me hooked, that's for sure."

As he began cleaning his mixing glasses, JD asked about any rumors or gossip floating around. Dom shrugged, a teasing smile forming on his lips. “Hmm, not really. I’m still pretty new here, so even if I did hear some gossip, I wouldn’t have a clue who it’s about,” he laughed. “And honestly, who knows if it’s even juicy? It’s a bit strange being surrounded by people who talk so openly about their heats and, well… other omega issues.”

He glanced over at JD as he spoke, trying not to be too obvious about checking him out. The way the light caught his features was distracting in the best possible way.

His focus returns to his drink as he takes another slow sip. The umbrella teeters on the edge of the glass, threatening to fall, but ultimately manages to remain balanced. He nudges it absently, a lackluster attempt at ensuring its security.

Perhaps it's the warmth of the alcohol settling in his gut, but he finds himself leaning closer as well. He rests an elbow on the counter, dark eyes glinting playfully in the light. "That's a quest I can certainly manage, chéri," he says, smile widening a fraction, "you can consider it done." He's enjoyed his Tokyo Tea thus far and doesn't anticipate that changing. That basically makes his quest a success for now, right?

After a quick mental run-through of his drink repertoire, Dom decided on a Tokyo Tea. Its vibrant green seemed like the perfect match for the little umbrella. He mixed the cocktail with a flourish, making sure to give it just the right amount of flair.

He drops the umbrella onto the rim of the glass and it does look quite at home there, almost matching the color of the drink. His gaze flicks down for less than a second, a subtle assessment of his own attire, before his attention returns to his drink. "Cheers," he echoes with a lopsided grin, raising the glass to his lips to take a long and generous sip.

He's silent for a moment, savoring the taste.

"It's perfect," he praises, eyes crinkling at the corners when he smiles, "they pair together well, don't they?" He indicates the umbrella balancing on the rim, the thin wooden pole now barely submerged in the green liquid. "You have a good eye, pal. And good... mixing... skills. Hm. That sounds a bit awkward. Forgive me, chéri- what I mean to say is that it tastes good. So thanks for that." He takes another sip of his drink, this one much smaller, and is careful to avoid hitting himself in the face with the umbrella garnish.

There was a usual cockiness to Fidel whenever the coyness was able to be heard from his client's voice. The uncertainty and anticipation bubbling to the surface. Standing besides the alpha witch, however, that particular brand of cockiness was absent. Moving in to New Haven had once felt like a dream come true for the werewolf, being able to live and let live. It seemed like the towns motto in some way - felt on some day more than others.

Now, however, Fidel felt a bit concerned for the alpha witch. Maybe it was the cracks in the dome causing doubt in his mind. The talk about his price made him feel a bit more anxious about taking on clients while inside New Haven. People in robes weren't the only thing lurking around that Fidel had to worry about ruining his fun. He decides to play it by ear with the guy. He didn't seem like terrible company to keep. It was a festival too, never a bad thing to keep company while celebrating.

"I wouldn't mind something to eat." Fidel smiles softly at the other alpha. He did find it funny, growing up a prince, it was usually him buying and obtaining things for other people. Landing here, circumstances allowed for roles to switch - something he was no stranger to. "Festivals a bit new to me, but I remember having a few celebrations like these in the past."

"We.. We can talk payment later." Fidel offers, "Not exactly planning on going anywhere with all that's happening outside, are ya?" He asks mischievously, "Let's just hang out for a sec. See if we connect first before we're jumping each other's bones." He winks at him.

"Oh, yeah, no. No, that's not- I wanna hang out, yeah. But, eh, that's it." He speaks just a little too quickly, fingers tapping restlessly at his sides. Nervous. "This is my first," he continues, "festival. Here. Very first one. Haven't been here long, y'know? It's rough, what with the..." He gestures vaguely and uncertainly. "Everything...? Everything. It's a lot. Haven't really met many folks and thought it'd be nice to, ah... Hang out." He pauses as if to let his words sink in and he hums softly before casting his gaze up at the sky.

Bruno's eyebrows lift in curiosity. He wasn't quite familiar with JD. Probably didn't help that the young werewolf kept himself inside his apartment after the whole debacle with the dome. It was funny for the omega, in a sense. Even while there was a possibility of New Haven getting attacked more often, Bruno wondered if it would have still been safer since his time in the past.

He stands from the swiveling chair he had sat himself on, still looking the towards the other's direction. Bruno was curious to the other man's need for a Venus Fly Trap and at this late of an hour. Though, he couldn't really blame the other man from entering, the lit interior fulfilling its purpose in inviting would be customers. His inability to sleep seeming to transfer into Bruno's work life didn't seem to help in deterring late night customers. However, Bruno surprisingly felt at ease with this new face poking around his shop.

"Hello, welcome to the... Um.. I'm spacing on the shop's name. That's probably not a good first impression." He chuckles lightly.

"Venus flytraps?" He decides on turning his attention to the other man's original question. "I think we have a few on sale at the moment. They're a little more dormant during the cold months, but still great plants nonetheless."

Seemingly emboldened by the shopkeeper's shift in stance, he takes a few more light steps towards the desk. He doesn't know this face, much like he doesn't know any face around town- he doesn't get out much, doesn't do much. It's only natural that he wouldn't really know anybody. Still, he offers a slight smile, teeth peeking out from beneath his lips as he nods along to the shopkeeper's ramblings. 

“I figure I'm not leaving you with the best impression either, chéri,” he interjects lightly, “rushing in at such an hour’s gotta be a bit of a faux pas, yeah?” His chuckle is soft, subdued, and quick to taper off. Though this fine establishment is well-lit and cozy, he is more than aware of the oppressive darkness currently painting the outside world. 

open starter | location: greenhouse nursery

Bruno had been staying in the greenhouse all afternoon, carefully tending to the different plants that shared his space. His boss left a few hours ago and Bruno has yet to incorporate the town into his evening routine. The young omega wolf didn't mind, however. His own house wasn't too far away from the shop and the shelves of plants has been more than perfect company for Bruno. It was certainly an odd thing to notice, but being around plants seemed to be a way Bruno to reach some peace. Especially after all that's happened, Bruno found peace of mind staying here late and mindlessly watering the ferns. Having your home ripped from under you seems a bit more bearable when surrounded by plants.

He sits back down on his chair, a small but spacious work desk is in front of him. The usual clutter on the desk; plant bits, receipt copies, and packaging paper. Bruno places a small plant onto the work desk, a small bear claw plant. He taps the plant squarely in the center of one of their green paws before hearing someone opening the greenhouse door. Bruno looks at the direction of the door, curious to who would be in need of budding plants so late at night. "Hello..? Anyone there? Can I help you with anything?"

He's frazzled, and he wonders just how evident it is that he hadn't intended to stop by, especially not at such a late hour.

His breathing steadies and he fiddles absently with the pockets of his trench coat. His eyes rake over the various plants- he can't name a single one- before he turns his attention toward the desk. He offers a crooked but sheepish smile, suddenly feeling a bit stupid for showing up in such a way.

Things had been different this time around. The dome cracking around them, the Stephen King comparison finally ceasing as the alpha werewolf could see the tears adorning the morning commutes and afternoon delights of the town. As decorative as it seemed to be now, Fidel still had a bit of a Y2K mentally regarding the potential fall of the dome and returned to accepting clients around town.

He donned on a white A-shirt, the A stands for alpha, along with a pair of wide legged pants. Fidel was given a location and a name. There was usually additional details during work like this; positions, preferences, payment. Of course many have their aspersions regarding what Fidel did around town. Though it would likely not be worth his time in explaining, not that the alpha would.

There was a hint of hesitation whether or not Fidel should pull out the stops with this client. He had the essentials on him; condom, morning after potion (It probably shouldn't make that much noise while walking.), and a heart shaped lollipop. He wouldn't really have need for them of course, given the nature of assignment provided by his client. He might have over done it with the sucker, but it was part of Fidel's usual arsenal. The alpha would admit to being a bit hungry, so perhaps bringing along the lollipop wouldn't have been a complete waste.

Unwrapping the heart shaped lollipop, Fidel popped it into his mouth as he scanned around the Beltane bon fire for his client.

"JD?"

“Guilty,” he says as he takes a step forward. He banishes his lighter to his pocket and raises a hand lazily in greeting. “Thanks for coming…” On such short notice is implied though he isn’t sure that it’s necessary. This had all happened very suddenly: the aching claw of loneliness, the need for immediate relief, taking a chance on an advertisement and reaching out, agonizing over his choice of words so it didn’t sound like he was begging for a little company.

Desperation isn’t a good look, not that he’s trying to impress anyone. 

“So,” he continues, sweeping a hand through his hair and tucking it behind his ear, “you got many feelings about this festival? The dango’s good. I figured we could get some, if that suits you- my treat. Everything’s my treat, I mean, considering…” 

" Even though I've been a nurse for nine years, I still can't bring myself to never stop being amazed or surprised at the lack of incompetence from my co-workers it seems." Chance said to himself, his attention to his surroundings was lacking as he reflected on his day while strolling through the local park. Here he was, deciding to immediately go for a stroll rather than changing his clothes because he didn't want to sit and home pissed off and annoyed. Though the people in his unit tried to hide it, they all participated in another co-workers birthday which went from the evening until early morning when many of them had to work. His day was filled with fixing mistakes, waking up grown adults from the secret nap spots they weren't aware Chance knew about, and pissed off patients who were spending longer than usual waiting to be helped. What made matters worse was Chance having to change outfits many times and hardly having any chance to sit down. His nerves were on fire, and not even a walk through the local park was helping. " And the real icing on top was my lunch being stolen and one of my co-workers spilling their coffee order on my bag which now means I have to get the new shoes I wear after work dry-cleaned." Chance took a deep breath, stopping in the middle of the walkway paying no mind to the person he just cut off. "Sorry. It's been a rough day and it was either walk in these cheap disposable shoes to blow off steam or sit at home even more irritated than I am." Chance had already stressed out lately, and today didn't help. "Sorry if I'm in your way, I need a second. You're really handsome by the way. I know I'm not in the best mood but I believe in honesty."

His hands are in the pockets of his gray sweats and his dark hair is tied back; he nods along absently as the worker speaks even if the action will ultimately go unnoticed due to their positioning.

They stops abruptly and JD would have knocked into the guy if his pace were just a little more brisk. Crisis averted, though- his sneakers scuff the ground as he slouches. His mouth twitches and the corners pull up ever so slightly. "You've had an awful lil day but I'm handsome?" His voice lilts playfully, if not incredulously, before he chuckles. "You're hardly in my way, mon ami. I've been, eh, following you, I suppose...?"

Moving right along.

"So, you missed lunch, huh? That sucks. Are you... hmm." He pauses, teeth digging into his lower lip as his gaze flicks over the worker, taking in his attire. "You on break now, or...?"

The musty scent of aged paper and leather bindings filled Tao's nostrils as he stretched on his tiptoes, fingers grazing the spine of the elusive book. Just a bit more, he thought, muscles straining. The rickety wooden stepladder creaked ominously beneath him.

"Come on, you stubborn git," he muttered, his crisp British accent clipped with frustration. His fingertips brushed the book's edge, nearly grasping it.

Tao, a lean man appearing in his late twenties with tousled black hair and sharp brown eyes, wore a simple white t-shirt and dark jeans. A silver dragon-shaped bracelet glinted on his wrist as he reached for the book.

A sudden rumble filled the air as books tumbled from the shelves. Tao ducked instinctively, throwing his arms over his head. Heavy volumes pelted his shoulders and back, their sharp corners digging into his skin. Pages fluttered around him in a paper storm, rustling like startled birds. The rickety ladder swayed beneath his feet, creaking ominously with each impact.

"Oh, bollocks!" he exclaimed, gripping the shelf to steady himself.

A pained groan echoed from the other side of the bookcase. Tao's stomach dropped. Someone had been hit.

He scrambled down the ladder, nearly tripping over fallen books in his haste. "I'm so sorry!" he called out, rounding the corner of the shelf. "Are you alright?"

There's someone on the other side of the shelf; someone that he is content to ignore.

His lack of consideration proves to be a mistake.

Books rain from the heavens, or maybe just from the shelf, and JD is too stunned to react to the sudden turn of events. He wobbles, much like the shelf, and he loses his footing. He's too slow to brace himself; a hefty tome hits his face even as he falls to the floor. He inhales sharply and winces, only belatedly managing to throw an arm over his head. His cookbook is lost to the newly created disaster area, hidden amongst a sea of paper and other books.

He's still for entirely too long. The avalanche ends but all he can do is gingerly rub his fingers across the bridge of his nose and beneath his eye. It's going to bruise, surely, if the dull pain throbbing in his face is anything to go by. He hardly notices his own vocalizations, a miserable groan that should really be confined to the walls of his own apartment.

"Sorry," he responds automatically, his voice a bit of a drawl. He scans the mess around him before glancing up; the corners of his eyes crinkle as he offers a tentative smile. "It's, ah... Oh. Yeah, I'm good. You?" His chest trembles with a silent chuckle and he rakes a hand through his unruly hair. "I was reading something," he mumbles, almost more to himself than anyone else. "But it's..." He trails off, biting back a grimace as he shakes his head dismissively.

It's seemingly a herculean effort to push himself up; he rests his palms on his knees, draws circles in the fabric of his gray sweats with his thumbs, adjusts his t-shirt in a way that stretches the collar a bit awkwardly. It almost seems like he'd rather sprawl out on the floor than ever get up again but finally, finally, he stands.

"It doesn't. I think the people that created the concept of time were on some types of shroom they foraged and thought it would be this great idea. When really they failed to grasp that time would become one of our greatest enemies." He concluded as he downed the rest of his drink before motioning the bartender to make him another.

Back to the more palatable topic, he adjusts the way he leans his elbows on the bar. "You think they were on shrooms and coming up with the concept of time is the best they could do?" He hums thoughtfully, considering. He raises a hand to his face almost absently and runs his fingers along his jawline. "Rough trip," he concludes listlessly, failing to withhold a soft sigh. "It's supposed to be more fun than that, huh? What's the point if you don't get to talk shop with the God masquerading as a raccoon and he gives you the best damn advice you'll never remember?" His gaze softens as he speaks, almost looking wistful as he surveys the man beside him.

The lapse in vulnerability shatters all at once and his smile sharpens yet again.

"That's an awful lot to figure out all at once, mon ami," he murmurs, "might need more than one drink for that one. Hell, might need more than one trip to the bar..."

“Atta boy.” A smile grazed his lips as he followed the others motions by taking a long sip of his now decorative cocktail. “In a few years we might say, life is too short? Who knows…I think time is a fragment of our imagination.” He shrugged softly.

"You might come to regret those words, partner," his voice lilts into a bit of a southern twang, and the inflection doesn't sound all that different from his attempt at French. He tips an imaginary hat and can only hope that it's evident that he's aiming for cowboy impersonation rather than coming off as an asshole. His smile is crooked but subdued, lips pulled back just enough to give a glimpse of his teeth. "How about that weather, huh? Sun still out?" He glances down momentarily, gaze lingering on his wrist just long enough to conclude that it is, indeed, bare. He straightens somewhat, instead electing to scan the walls in search of a clock. It doesn't occur to him that two taps to his phone could easily procure the current time.

"I gotta agree with you, though," he continues, the lazy drawl of his voice still quite pronounced. "About time... it's always felt like more of a construct than anything real. Sure, the sun goes down every evening, but what does that really mean? What does a star that big care about our concept of hours and minutes and days and months and years...? It's nonsense."

It wasn't uncommon for Keegan to feel out of place in public, he would have much preferred to be at home with his familiar Pearl, but he knew that he needed to get out of the house every once in a while or he would go mad.

“I'll drink to that,” he says belatedly, chin dipping in a nearly imperceptible nod. His fingers linger on the glass after setting it down, index tracing slowly around the rim. The umbrella is dragged along for the ride.