Clicks of hard soles shoes echoed over the bustling of people, normal bar folks couldn't hear it, but skilled men train in the art of silence heard the offending noise like gun shots. The normal neighborhood lushes and oblivious barmaids partied on as the man's freshly bought shoes squeaked on the worn, sticky wood floor. Only a few looked up in his directions—not really wary of the stranger, just tense through the years of their occupation—it posed as a good sign when the bartender eyes wandered as well. The other men scoffed at the sight of the well dressed man, a very valuable looking jacket tightly button up, only the busting purple silk ascot tie could be seen threw the lapel; it was a very expensive looking Edwardian dress suite, and he wasn't shy on the deep red velvet color either.
The stray drinkers turned their noes up at the the man, but the bartender kept eye contact with him. “What can I get for you?” he asked. His words scripted, only paying enough attention to get the order.
“just Black Vodka, no ice, lukewarm.” He said, his foreigner voice light, but deep enough to where no one could confuse he was a man. “And place it in a nice cup, it'll enhance the taste.” He said, not looking at the bartender, but behind him.
The bartender quirked an eyebrow and slowly looked behind him, but there was nothing of importance back there, just various of liquor bottles, oddly enough, none was labeled 'Black Vodka', though he did have it, as he reached under the table for the generously full bottle—it was expensive, and it tasted like shit bare, so not many people wasted their money on it.
He pulled out a twisting vase like glass, and poured the foreigner the natural amount qualified for a shot—all the way to the red bottom, now a dark black—but the stranger stared at it incredulously, it only took a few pauses for the bartender to take the hint and poured more up to the ending of the blue middle, he paused thinking the stranger was going to want to reach the yellow rim, but corked the bottle when the man picked up the glass.
It was obvious the man had some questions as the bartender pretend to clean an already clean glass—well, as clean as it was going to get—but the man said nothing as he sat there and his red mustache lip rested on the cup, lifting to allow only small amounts of liquor as he stared at random weird places, like the edge of the bar counter, or the corner of the ceiling.
The bartender's eyes darted over to a couple of men that stood from their tables, they were a few of the men that followed the stranger as his obnoxious shoes click/squeaked to the counter. The bartender's eyes wondered back over to the stranger who annoyingly sat at the front stools with him, and his eyes narrowed as he saw that the stranger's silver eyes was looking in the directions of the men too.
“Work here in a town like this?” The man asked, running a hand through his slick back red hair, with a streak of whit down the middle. The bartender couldn't help but smirk at that.
“If there's a job your looking for, there might be a butcher hiring... or a tailor. You might want to check out a few posters up in town... ” The bartender started, laying down hints to see if the man was real or not.
Under the counter, he slid out a flier with a fox like demon girl on the page, it was a drawing, and she was portrayed as looking very ravenous and feral, like any other 'hideous' demons prosecuted by town folks, he didn't pull it out to show the man—bounty hunting, even though enforce by towns people, was still a vigilante sport that could get them with a price on their head too.
The man didn't speak as he place a few gold coins on the counter and left his nearly full glass there. The bartender blinked as he scowled and dumped the liquor on the already filthy floor. The man in the nice red Edwardian suit walked out of the tavern, seeing the group of scoundrels earlier, they were carrying tanks of vibrant blue water, he could feel the cold from here. He didn't follow them though, he went in a completely different direction as he reach in his pocket and pulled out a flier, one that greatly resembled the same one the bartender had, he read the words 'wanted alive: rabid fox/wolf woman'.
“I've already have...” He mumbled, making a bee line into the forest.
It took some time, and he was a little annoyed, but he expected it would take long, so he calmly waited in the trees. It was then that he heard the silent, but noticeable pats of stealthy feet, he looked off in the distance to see a flow of silky hair running his way. It was a great contrast to the Medusa like mammal that was drown in the picture, but he could tell it was her. Loving dramatics, he waited until she was close enough to jump right in front of her path, hardly faltering when she crashed right into him.