Fortune In a Grain of Coffee

21 October 2018

09:55 < Guti> Good afternoon, everyone

09:55 < Tigerlover> Hello

09:56 < Guti> Heyhey, how are you doing=

09:57 < Tigerlover> Good. What about you?

11:57 Heremes slinks in and sprawls on a couch.

12:03 Gyro Feather wonder on in and perches on the wet bar.

12:17 Heremes grins at Gyro "Still alive and kicking?"

12:18 Gyro Feather nods his head at the other gryphon. "Yep...everyone seems to underestimate me."

12:21 Heremes grins and nods. "Well, perhaps. Peacocks are hard to take overly seriously."

12:33 Gyro Feather snorts at the larger bird and clicks his beak together. "WEll...you should take me plenty seriously."

12:36 Heremes laughs and winks. "Sure, I am, I do. Pretzel?"

12:40 Serizel reclines in an oxblood oxenleather chair with a wide print unfolded in front of his face, reading, rustling. A steaming cup of black coffee sits on the side table.

12:40 Gyro Feather hops off the bar and wanders over to Hermes, grabbing the bowl of barnuts as he does so. "Sure, I and I brought you these as well." He perks up as he sees the other avian in the room and waves a wing at him. "Guess its bird morning, huh?

12:41 Serizel tugs the newspaper's middle taut and the top folds down. He smiles and wriggles some fingers, "G'morning, g'morning. S'ppose it is, isn't it?" And takes a drag at his coffee.

12:46 Heremes hrrrms, and rumbles "I don't trust nuts left out in the open where just about anyone can stick their paw." He has a bag of small pretzels which he offers some to Gyro. He also looks up and around. "Heh, bird morning? Scarcely. A bit more than a bird, here."

12:48 Serizel props his newspaper up only to fold it down the next minute at the new dialogue. His eyes turn about to Heremes and Gyro. "Gryphons.." He chuckles softly, "Scarcely yes. We're all fakebirds in here."

12:54 Gyro Feather shrugs and takes one of the proffered pretzels and munches on it, following it up with a swig of his drink he'd brought over as well. "Mmm Suit yourself, I've never had any problems with them. As far as fake birds, Its probably more apt to call the others immitation gryphons." He reclines back into his chair and lets out a soft rumble.

12:57 Heremes hehs. "Not that fake, very much real." He stretches out with his pretzels placed nearby, kneading the armrest of the couch hard enough there's the sound of fabric tearing under his nails. "We are what we are."

12:59 Serizel folds his newspaper awkwardly and in wrong directions and sets it on the table. He downs his black coffee, the whole hot thing, in a gulp. "K'aah. Pardon." And he gets up and wasn't much bird himself with no wings and two tails that hand behind him with messy unkempt plumes. "Indeed we are what we are. G'morning gryphons." He trots behind the bar and turns on one of the burners of the range. He takes out his cezve and rotates it skillfully in his fingers. This he hadn't done in a while, "Either of ya like a bit of Turkish coffee?"

12:59 FangCanine wanders on in and takes a seat somewhere!

12:59 Serizel casts out, "You sir!," pointing to Fang, "coffee?"

13:02 Serizel 's ears perk up at the sound of stretched-clawed fabric-furniture, but doesn't turn around, popping open a canister of finely ground coffee. He still sneers.

13:03 FangCanine perks his ears. "Coffee?!" He tilts his head. "Yes, sure. Of course!"

13:03 Gyro Feather perks up at the offer of a coffee and quickly finishes off his mimosa. "Sure, I'll take one, though...I'll take mine with a shot of irish cream and some whiskey, as sacrilige as that may be>" he replies, before leaning back into his seat and closing his eyes.

13:11 Serizel takes the silence as an opportunity to leer over his shoulder at Heremes. His eyes wander and stare at him tugging that armrest facbric under his nails and his head whips back forward quick. He rubs his cheek and murmurs, "Several cups of coffee it is." Reaching into a cupboard, he gets a bigger copper cezve, spoons out the appropriate amount of coffee, fills it to the neck with filtrated water, and stirs it well with a fine spoon. He sets the cezve on the burner, turns the flame to low, and reaches up in the array of glass and glass bottles, gets the irish cream and, "Preference on whiskey?"

13:19 Gyro Feather shrugs his shoulders. "I suppose just somethign irish will do just fine, to compliment the cream. I really appreciate this by the way, not often that someone around here offers up such a treat." His claws trace over the fabric of the arm chair, drawing crooked circles as he waits. "What brings you around here anyways? I dont think I've seen your face here before."

13:26 Serizel murmurs again something about Kentucky being much more preferable but it is not his preferences this time. "Something Irish, so something Irish it will be. Serizel is short enough he must clamber up on the counter and climb over the tall glass shelves of liquor, perusing, "Something Irish.. something irish.. something.." He's not too familiar with Irish whiskys and just plucks down the upper-most bottle of Jameson. Some vintage stuff, brown bottle half drunk, and hops down. He attents to the cezve and lits it from the range. The bubbling coffee inside naturally produces a creme that, if not attended to, will overflow and spill out of the container. He captures it just in time and it recedes into a thick layer once he takes it off the heat. And then he stirs the creme in to the coffee and returns it to the heat. "Oh I've been.. around some before. But basically new. I... was given a recommendation here. And not a worry. Rare I get to make Turkish coffee; it's a delight.~"

13:36 Gyro Feather watches Serizel work dilligently at the coffee, and, having not seen it done before he's surrised at teh amount of attention it takes to get it properly done, unlike the french press he's used too, which is a fairly simple ordeal. "Really? I thought those were a type of candy," he retorts, and then without skipping a beat, moves on. "And, Yes, its a pretty good place, if I do say so myself. Plenty of friendly folks, and usually a tasty one or two around as well...though looks like we're a little light on the prospects at the moment it would seem. Such a shame...I was hoping to maybe pick up a little breakfast. Though...it seems like perhaps we should have gotten Hermes some coffee...He's nodded off."

13:41 Serizel eyes the copper cezve and scrambles upwards into the cupboard to produce four tiny porcelain cups of white and blue and gold frolicking paisley design and saucers of matching patters. He sets them next to the range and lifts the cezve off the heat, turns off the heat, and puts the copper container down on the bar. "Kehehe, clever. Yes. I do have those too. Stole my thunder, didn't you?~" From a drawer he takes out two boxes of Turkish delights. One of rosewater, the other lemon. He clears his throat, "Yes. Indeed. /Always/ seems a tasty one is about here, doesn't it?" He spoons out the coffee in succession to the four cups, so each gets a bit of that foaming cream. And he gives two rosewater candy-cubes and two lemon-candy-cubes. Of course the cup is nearly the size of a shot, so for Gyro's arrangement, he simply includes a jigger of Jameson and a jigger of irish cream, do as you please! And out he passes the turkish coffee and delights to Fang, Heremes, Gyro, and lastly himself. And he starts by sucking on a rosewater candy, watching the others. "You both're gonna ruin the furniture clawing it up like that.~"

13:55 Gyro Feather eyes the candies from across the room and runs his tongue over his beak. "I cant say I've ever atually had one of those, but they do look tasty none the less, and sorry, but it was too good to pass up." As he watches Serizel start to get everything together, he starts to get up to help, only to realize that his new friend had it fully covered anyways. The bird takes the metalic platter between his talons with a nod and sets it on the arm rest. From there he spoons about a tablespoon of each into his shot. "Oh, I'd forgotten how small they come. " Emptying a little into his beak he rumbles in enjoyment, swirling it around across his tongue and taking in the full experience before finallys swallowing. "This is most certainly excellent. Dont worry about the furniture though...with all that gets up in here...I'm prettyu sure they reuppolster frequently."

14:02 Serizel snuckers low in his throat with a cutting smirk over his beak. His zagged rows of teeth show there and soon he smashes the candy between his jaws and chews and swallows. "Oh they're rather tasty. Sometimes the rosewater one is a bit of an acquired taste. They're not all that sugary. Almost like suckling flavored wax in a way, with a bit of sugar. Sometimes they come sprinkled in powdered sugar." He plucks a few turkish delights from the box and beans Heremes in the head with them, hello, wakeup!~ But he giggles. "Yeah they're served in tiny little espresso-like cups. Careful. Don't chug it or anything. Coffee grains are still there at the bottom. Finish it off, slap the cup upside down on the saucer and we can scry your fortune on the arrangement of the wet grains." He shrugs and sips at his own cup, mmmm'ing every time. And he just watches them both claw and foot at the furniture with an oddly high degree of entertainment.

14:16 Gyro Feather slowly sips on his drink slowly, feeling the liwuid roll down his gullet and warm him from the inside. About midway through his cup, he grabs his lemon one and places it on his tongue. Sucking softly, he mashes the treat against the roof of his beak, working to mix it in with the saliva inside to extract teh light but pleasant flavors from the mash. After a little bit, he chases the treat down with the last swig of his coffee, letting out a soft sigh as he does so. "Mmm that was absolutly marvelous. I must implore you to do this again next time we see each other." Then with a rapid slap, he cracks the rim of the cup down on the copper platter, and lifts, to reveal the arrangement of grains upon the plate. "I cant say I'm much one for fortune telling, but please, let me know what you think it says anyways~" he asks, holding the plate on his lap. As he waits for his response, he moves to try the rosewater one, and find sthe flavor unusual, and perhaps not what he'd think about in a sweet.

14:30 Serizel stops wasting his candies darting them at Heremes' noggin. His absence makes the bird snicker and he sips at his coffee once again. It was a frothy coffee, that bubbling creme previously mentioned at least a third of the quaint beverage and supplying its own sweetness and foamy texture. He sucks a lemon Lokum too, with his strong tongue grinding the sweet gel block on the roof of his beak into a wet coin then chewing, smacking, kinda loudly. Dangerous candy if you happen to have loose or weak teeth.~ "Oh thank you keenly. I'd love to make it again. Been a while since I did so." But he wasn't the greatest scryer either. Still he approaches, squats down in front of Gyro and peeks at the grains. Tasseography! What a good word. But the grains made a large solid shape with an upward cusp and a little island of grains extending off of it. "Soon you will find success in trying new things." ??????? This was his reading. He snickers and shrugs.

14:44 Gyro Feather raises an eyebrow at the gryphon's incredibly vague fortune that he reads to him and then stares back down at the grinds. "huh... Well I was hoping for something a little more specific than that. You sound just like a Chinese fortune cookie at that. Gonna spout out my lucky numbers too?" He teases, shaking his head. The bird then dips his talon slightly into the grounds and messes topples the peak." Tell me, what do you see in my course now that I've altered it?" He asks and holds it forward towards the bird in question.

14:47 Serizel huffs softly and blushes with the tease, "Well I never claimed to be a professional fortune-teller.~" He snickers and takes the platter, allowing a scrying mulligan, why not.~ Upon first look at the mussed grains, his ears lower down heavy to the backside of his head. Both his tails flick. He brings up a claw and scrapes it in the grains a little too, hums, tilts his head to the side, and rocks to and fro on his talons. He takes a moment to read the grained platter, then sets it down with an angular smirk, "Oh you don't wanna know.~"

14:47 < Serizel> (brb!)

14:59 Gyro Feather watches as the intensity of his companion suddenly shifts into a new tenor while examining this second fortune. How exciting, perhaps he was going to get something with a little more specificity this time. After Serizel sets it down on the table he leans in on anticipation, close enough for the bird to smell his fruity preening oils. "Oh come now, with all that suspense and everything you can't leave me in the dark. What sort of tidings does this modified future bring?" He curls his claws into the chair as he Waits, scaring shallow divots in the wooden armrest.

15:24 Serizel plucks that fortune-forging finger of his into his beak and licks off a few of the coffee grains. He hums a little at the ruined anticipation delivered to the sweet-scented Gyro. What was that? He sniffs. And he sniffs again. Oh nice.~ "Well... Modified fortunes absolutely never turn out positive, y'know. Absolutely never. I mean. This one says at the strike of three, you'll find a clout of bad luck." He shrugs. Ain't my fortune! And he's simply forced to dart his eyes back, to stare at those curling claws gripping and tugging at the fabric. He blushes.~

15:31 < Norlin> [i]scurries inside and over to the bar, climbing up one of the bar stools and bounding off onto the bar top.[/i]

15:34 < Saul Ashle> (forgive me I now need to brb

15:35 < Serizel> (oh? Other character, this?~)

15:35 < Kyr Dunkelwasser> [sub]It's Gyro on Saul, he has both up.[/sub]

15:36 < Saul Ashle> (oh oops yes was on wrong chat too... XP

15:40 Serizel leans behind the bar with his head supported in his hand. SUpposing he's the bartender this Sunday afternoon. He stares at the rodent scatter across the bar table and lets him be for the moment. And then returns his look towards the two.

15:45 < Norlin> [i]scatters over to a lone glass of water that no one has claimed, jumping up onto the rim and leaning down to drink[/i]

15:47 Gyro Feather frowns at that fortune and lowers his dual head crests flat against his head. "Hmmm...three you say? Well...its just there abouts isnt it? I wonder what sort of bad luck I'm predicted to have?" He asks. "Nowt that I actually believe any of this hooey, but I'm a bit curuious none the less," the bird explains, though even as he triest o force ti from his mind, there's still just a hint of unease about him. The gryphon's dimeanour turns to one of a little more caution though, as it darts around to meet the couple of newcomers who made their way into the club. "THough..knowing whats up around here...there might be a couple who intend to take advantage of such a thing..."

15:53 Serizel offers a shrug towards Gyro, "Beats me really. I only read these things, you have to find an interpreter to tell you that! 'Cept you might wanna do it quick." Yes, for him 3 is in a little more than an hour...~ He smashes his face and cheek harder down into his palm, leaning and lazing against the veneered bar. His cheek-feathers poke out from his fingers and his beak smirks angles. "Oh yes. I've seen some stunning, shocking shit around here, not surprised some would capitalize on your bad luck. I mean..." He peaks around, "I guess we have no bouncers, so, good luck, I s'pose." Not my fortune!~ He watches Dante drop his phone, and is utterly confused with what happens next.

15:54 < Gyro Feather> (Perhaps we should call it halvsies, and make three in 10 :P

15:54 < Serizel> (Keheh! Sure though I didn't have anything specific planned.~ :> Timezones and the blah!)

15:55 < Gyro Feather> (I dont suppose Zel would want to make Gyro's bad luck his good luck :P

15:58 < Serizel> ( -takes a long time to put two and two together- Wait, am [b]I[/b] Zel??)

16:00 < Gyro Feather> (Ser, Seri, Zel, idk I just piked one of the three possible ones :P

16:01 Gyro Feather lets out a low sigh and leans back into his chair. "Since you're back there...why dont you fix me up something tasty...sweet and fruity I think would be up my alley right now. It'll help me calm my nerves just a little..." he says. "If somethign terrible is going to happen to me in a minute...well I'd rather find out about it while I'm feeling comfortable and relaxed," he explains. THe bird spreads his wings and presses back into the chair now.

16:01 < Serizel> (Kahaha! Ohhh.. it usually takes a pressure washer to clean up after my meals.. fyi..~ ;> )

16:01 < Gyro Feather> (oooh more on the HV side? THen probably will pass.

16:01 < Serizel> (Oh both of course, but canonically HV yeah~ Of course both.)

16:02 < Gyro Feather> (Could also always slip him something in his drink to shrink him...since I see you like micro/macro as well :P

16:05 Serizel nods towards the gryphon and he concocts up a a Harvey Wallbanger. That is, OJ, Vodka, and a layer of Galliano, a sweet, thick almond liqueur upon the top, served in an cocktail glass with a speared cherry and a.. special orange twist. "Yes I suppose the time has arrived." He places the bottles back upon the shelf, takes the drink, and delivers it to Gyro, "Yes bottoms up. I'll go make my own, even." And he trots back to the bar and fixes himself a Manhattan on the rocks, extra bitters.

16:11 Gyro Feather takes the offered drink and raises it in the air. "CHeers indeed, to happier times and all of that." The bird waits for Serizel to return with his own glass, to clink them together before tipping it into his beak and taking several long gulps of the vibrantly flavored liquid. He can feel the slight burn across his tongue, but over all the drink is very smooth and pleasant, and, upon the last sgulp, he allows the liquid to remain against his tongue , taking in the full flavor before swallowing it down. "Well...its the stroke of three and I dont think anything has happened to me yet. Perhals your fortuen was off my friend."

16:11 Dante Hunter 's clawed finger appears atop the bar, placed directly onto Norlin's tail. The cat soon rises up from his position, having stalked his way over towards the succulent meal just left wandering about, free as can be. With his prey well and trapped, he turns to ask the others. "This mouse isn't anyone's pet, is it?"

16:14 Serizel stares right towards Dante, "I was going to eat that." He stares for a moment more, and finally succeeds the mouse to him with a shrug, turning back to Gyro. He raises his glass, "Cheers." And drinks from his fucking-bitter Manhattan. Ah. He eats the cherry immediately afterward. Of course that special orange twist had been tainted with the blue-contents of a special bead the bird had, busted on its peel, nearly-no-tasting, shrinking liquid, yes shrinking, oops. "Well perhaps it was. I don't claim to be a fortune teller." He grins as Gyro seems into the drink, just taking gulp after gulp. And he sips his fucking-bitter Manhattan again with a shit-eating grin.

16:21 Dante Hunter stares back at Serizel and then towards the mouse. "Then why didn't you?"

He pulls on that tail and pinches it between his finger and thumb, hoisting the little snack off the bar, dangling before him. He licks his lips and brandishes his teeth, before simply adding. "Yeah, I'm not letting you go. Not unless I hand you to someone else."

16:22 Gyro Feather gets about halfway down his glass before he turns his attention towards tehe garnishes that decorated his rim, and picks the toothpick up between his talons. At that, he slides them both off into his beak, crushes them with his tongue, and then swallows them both down, potion and all. "Well... regardless of your fortune telling capabilities, I'd say you make a pretty damn good bartender. This has turned out marvelous...you called it a Harvey Wallbanger? I might have to get another one of these sometime. He turns back to work on his drink, none the wise of the flaw he's just commiteed.

16:30 Serizel chuckles towards Dante, "I had a lot of eggs this morning. With hot sauce. Filled me up, it really did. Sides, I already have my lunch planned out." He stares at Gyro, then stares back to sheen of the bar, staring at the reflected light on its surface. He starts to trot over towards the sofa Gyro had placed himself upon and leans against the armrest that wasn't all cutely-clawed up. And his eyes affix with intent towards the colorful gryphon. "Well thank you. Been around the bottle a few times, I have. A Harvey Wallbanger, yes. No one knows what Galliano is. Stuns me. A common drink where I'm from but these days its so hard to find Galliano." It's a yellow liqueur, almond-flavored and potent. The dash of poison would work in minute-segments, stealing away size and the like.

16:38 Gyro Feather was already starting to feel the effects of teh shrinking potion as he gradually lost an inch here and there each minute, though two teo small gryphon it wasnt enough for him to notice at first, especially as he was preoccupied with finishing off his drink and enjoying his chatter with the other bird. "Its not usually within my repetoire I must admit, but its a good choice none the less. Perhaps you might be able to tell me about other things I should try with it." THen..the gryphon goes to pick up his empty glass to crunch on an icecube...and its at this point that he notices that well...he has to hold it in two claws to bring it to his bbeak. "W-what's going on?" Then he loooks over at Serizel and reaizes just how much bigger the already big bird seemed to him. "I...I guess you werent wrong after all...I probably ought to get going before someone else notices..."

16:47 Serizel watches. oh it wasn't so much as a potion as a bonafide drink with a bit of shrinking venom laden in its alcoholic tastes. It did indeed contribute to any tipsiness, this is true. "Thank you. Seeming I'm always serving and belching exotic, odd things. Usually useful sometimes tiring. I have odd tastes, I guess you could say." As Gyro dwindled, the bird would sift forward, closer, forward, eating away the growing gap of sofa between them, looming, starting to, enclosing Gryo in his outspread arm, his leaning side, his downward laser-gaze. "Oh Galliano? Hell I only know it goes in a Harvey Wallbanger." He shrugs and upholds the conversation for optics-sake. "What's going on? Oh nothing. I just think you've had too much to drink." [b]No.[/b] He outreaches a claw and holds Gyro's hand. The blue-puce gryphon down to munchable-size by now. "No need to leave so soon." And his grip was locking.

16:54 Gyro Feather squawks as he feels that claw grasp down upon his wrist, wrapping around it easily with one hand, and holding him tight. Even still, he pulls away from tbe bird and shakes his head. "N-no...let me go...I'm way to small to be around here...and i"m not sure what's causing it but I really must be going before someone takes too much of a liking to me," he insists, tugging at his arm to work himself free. Alas, it seems like the othe rbird may have a different sort of idea, as far as he can tell as his eyes meet the hungry look plastered across the other's face. "D-did you do this? Did you drug me?" In his smaller stature the potency of his drink grew far more intense, leaving him feeling a fair bit woozy as he moves around.

16:58 Serizel 's eyes deliver such an immediate, and unfortunate, expected, a scried answer, me. Down deepening on Gyro like like demonic portals, you. "I did drug you, little love. What? You have a problem with it? What? You want to complain about it?" Suddenly he lifts the diminuitive Gyro up off the sofa, clutched by the wrist. He was not cruel. It would be painful to support such a thing by its wrist and so he cups his other large, field-like charcoal-colored palm underneath the tiny gryphon. And then he lets go of his wrists and clamps his whole body in his hand. His other hand reaches for his bottle of tabasco sauce. "Are you allergic to peppers, little one?"

16:59 < Gyro Feather> (So...how big am I compared to you?

17:00 < Serizel> (Bah humbug! Was wondering myself. FIve inches? )

17:00 < Norlin> [i]struggled as his eyes were locked on the serpent jaws, fearing everything that was to come in the belly of the large serpent.[/i]

17:00 < Serizel> (Enough to fight you down my throat.)

17:00 < Lilly Winter> [sub] walks in and finds a place to sit, small text to not disturb the others [/sub]

17:02 < Aquilleo> Oh, what's goin' on.

17:02 < Lilly Winter> [sub] few rps i believe ^^ [/sub]

17:03 < Serizel> Oh, just lunch.

17:03 < Gyro Feather> (Canibalism D:

17:03 < Gyro Feather> (Bird on bird!

17:04 Gyro Feather yelps as he's lifted up into the air with his wrists and then flares his wings as he attempt to work himself free with wild uncoordinated drunken flapping, though he's not even able to get up off of the palm when ti releases, and instead his wings are caught between the fingers of the other bird as it squeezes around his fluffy middle. Gyro gulps...konwing he's about the size of the other small gryphon who frequents this club...but has not nearly as much practice. keeping alive. "Y-yes I'm deathly allergic to peppers...and mouths just let me go! I thought we were getting along just fine...werent we?"

17:15 Serizel finds great enjoyment in the showcased struggles of the tiny gryphon, hoisted upwards in the vacant air, there to struggle freely, exposed, yet unable to free himself. Oh but? ...About the size of the other gryphon that frequents...? [sub]Who?[/sub] He shakes his head. Better not be that corvid. "Damn, really you are? Allergic to peppers?" He does not allow him freedom, squeezing harder. "Of all things, really, allergic to peppers?" By God he wanted this tiny Gyro with hot sauce but be damned if he just seizes and has hives right there in his mouth--fine. Plain. Simple. That it is. "We /are/ getting along just fine. I mean. Look. I tricked you. You got tricked. Along just fine. Stop complaining, you're cute." He cranes open his wide and sultry, toothed beak, tongue splayed out and flattened, wide, textured, wet. And slowly starts to lower Gyro down there into it, wet! Saliva! Oh so much saliva. And acrid, stinging, alcohol bird-breath breathing in and out.

17:28 Gyro Feather gasps as the pressure rises against his chest increases, leaving him unable to draw a nice full breath, and nor to offer much protest in the way of his fate. "A...allergic to drool too..." he mumbles out while the hot meaty stale breath of the bird blows out over his face, growing ever present and forching him to tak ehis short breaths through that. At least the scent of the alcohol helped temper the rest of the smells. In truth Gyro's not allergic to anything, but anything to get out of being eaten. As the beak yawns open in front of him, he has a feeling of vertigo, looking down at the glistening pink flesh that runs along the edges and terminates in a black pit beyond. Sharp jagged teeth line the edges fo the beak, forcing images in his mind of himself being torn appart. As his body lowers down into the jaws, the gryphon strains up against the hand, bending himself to forestall the inevitable, but even then soon his rump squishes down into the soft textured muscle, imparting his faintly fruity flavor ot the tongue, and adding teh drool to his butt. Any moment he'd be released...and hopefully he'd have oportuninty to spring out.

17:35 Serizel had his beak perched open, yawning and waiting and when the tiny gryphon announces he's allergic to drool the bird tugs back, holds tiny-Gyro in front of him with that again angular smirk. "Oh so you're lying." Who-ever was allergic to drool?~ His right hand, for his left hand was holding Gryo, reaches back and snatches his bottle of tabasco. And, poor little thing, Serizel just douses his morsel in that hot, acrid, strident spice, douse, douse, douse, splurt splurt. All along Gyro and his own fingers. "Perfect, just what I wanted. God." Nnnhk. And just as quick he resumes the tiny, shrunk thing to that previous spot, coated in that stinging hot-sauce. His tongue writhes under-butt, tasting that fruity taste, and then smashing against Gyro's face, taking some of that tabasco. He snorts and again that biting alcohol-breath breathes out, whisky and bitters. And in a mass and pushing mess of his hands, just shoves Gyro in his beak. And closes it. Teeth not coming close to him, but encapsulating the little gryphon victim within, tabasco-coated, tongue-darting, licking tasting, smashing unceremoniously, without mercy over Gyro. There wasn't much-where to go, with the damned bird's beak closed.

17:47 Gyro Feather sighs in some relief as he's jerked away from that beak and back on open int othe fresh air of the club, but neither does the other bid let up his gripat all around his body. Suddenly his body is away in the hot peppery sausce, which, as it manages to work itself past his fur adnd feathers soacking in, till his skin itsel ffeels like its on fire as the capsasisn infiltrates his body. By the time Serizel is doen with him it feels like there's more red orage upon his form than the blue of his fur that coats the majority of his body. The stinging gores even more intesnse as he's pressed forward into the hot maw of the bird, raising the temperatures he was exposed to to a sweltering body temperature. This grows even worse as he's finally thrust entirely inside, forced to bathe in teh slippery drool and the humid air, much like a very unwanted sauna. The odor grows even more odious whent he beak comes together, sealing him away in darkness save for a small barest glint of a crack where teh two surfaces come together. The remnents of the drink mix with the flavors on and around the bird as the tongue begins to press around on him inside, twisting him this way and that like an oversized jawbreaker. The drool of the bird permeates everywhere on him, flattening out his feathers and forcing hi s otherwise fluffy veins to coeless into quills. Sharp claws rake at the tongue as he struggles for his freedom.

17:55 Serizel 's body temperature was indeed something sweltering to any normal land, Earthling bird. A 117F, it was. Natural. And hot-peppery sauce only ignites that alien metabolism of his and cause his tongue to madly curl in the spice and heat penetrated into his pores and taste buds and jaws. His sweet, new friend Gyro struggles for their dearest, sweet, cute, energetic little spicy-life right there in his sealed, sultry maw. His tongue is unrelenting in its teasing, tasting, twirling and twisting and torquing about his little body, demanding every dry spot to be his, to taste, it maneuvers his body about. Under his tongue, over, crammed down, smashed and squished, saliva-drowned for a moment to be dredged up and assaulted between-legs by that hell-wrought tongue and dragged back up licking his face. All that tabasco goes rather quick and he sucks on Gyro himself for the next 15 minutes, lazed upon the sofa, enough, fingering his slit a moment then realizing he is in public and stopping. He sucks his fingers and a bit of nasty crotch-juice joins in that swirling mass and mess of saliva and Gyro, sticky stuff, salty stuff. "Mmmhr~" Finally he shoves two fingers in, presses on Gyro's butt, pushes him down, and swallowed him like a pill, utterly enjoying his mad struggles, "Sayonara, sweetie."

17:59 Serizel massages his unruly throat

18:04 Gyro Feather finds himself tossed around that chamber, stealing the fight out of him over the course of who knows how long. All he knows is that he's in some gryphon provided hellscape that moved beneath and all around him. He found himself flipped over the tongue and beneath it, rotated every which way while drool finds itself into the pints of his body. Parts, like the bird's nethers have a far mroe muskier taste, while the fruity experience is more focused upon his feathers. All around though, his body tries to compensate for the dizzying amount of heat, deploying a sweat that leaves his body with just the right amount of salt to compliement everything else. His ears popped several times when the bird sucked, only t return back to normal as the pressure returns to the chamber. There are several times where it seemed like Serizel might snap one of his frgile bones, putting incredibly strain on him before easing up. By the time the beak opens up to slupr those fingers, he's utterly exhuasted and unable to muster up the energy for tha tone final haragh to get safe. Then, that tongue arches beneath his tail and forces him against the air once more, while he's scrunched tino a ball at the back of the jaws. The muscles reach out and grip upon his form, propelling him down into the complete darkness beyond, leaving a lump in Serizel's throat that tracks his descent.

18:10 Serizel ain't no gryphon a'course! He's a damned bizarre-ever alien.~ Of course, Serizel, in his defined capacity, is one to enjoy those muskier tastes and his tongue dwells there, drills there, bores there, give him, give that damn taste. It grinds viciously between Gyro's legs and he takes it, salivating, until it almost can no longer give him taste before swallowing the poor, tricked, sweet, unlucky morsel. God. And Gyro sweated and perspired, salty stuff. No that's just not fair. That just doesn't help the gryphon inside. Oh, Serizel salivates. And of course he isn't concerned about his fragile bones. Your problem, little gryphon. Deal with it. And utterly, finally, he swallows that feathered, destroyed, exhausted and taste-sucked living ball down his tight, alien, salty throat, into a very-weird digestive system. Once he's done he "K'aaaahs!" And slips up from the sofa, takes his awkwardly-folded newspaper from earlier, and returns to the bar. God, pelase keep wriggled, Gyro. I love that. Wriggle more. Fight. Fidget. I can feel you in there. Go, more. He saunters with a mad blush over to the bar, behind the bar, stares at Versia, Riley, Cosmo, Norlin seems doomed, and Ryz, "Drinks, ya guys want?~" His tails flicker behind him, like nothing.

18:12 Cosmo Lastere took a seat at the bar, shrugging off the display and accepting the sentiment [user]Serizel[/user] put forth, "Yea, I could use a drink."

18:12 Dante Hunter unbuttoned his shirt and slipped that off next, before finally the underwear that trapped Norlin slip off too. The cat stands naked before the couch bound serpent, casually toying with their improv sex toy for the evening. "Would you mind if I tried to push the mouse down your throat with my dick in your mouth, Versia? I don't want to be rude and assume." He held his cock with his hand and tilted the erect member up towards her, as if offering a gift or fruit from a tree.

18:12 < Serizel> What'sya drink, Cosmo?

18:13 Cosmo Lastere hmm'd out loud, tapping a finger to his chin, "Just a margarita tonight."

18:14 Riley Ratso blushes lightly and chuckles at the bird alien's casual demeanor after eating another bird-like creature. Guess that's the way it is around here. Just food, no big deal. "I'll have a rum and coke, please."

18:15 Serizel shrugs and doesn't even look up from the bottles he'd be working, "No biggie. Lunch hour after all.. pardon if I took too long.~ Rum and coke? And a margarita. Aight~"

18:23 Serizel clambers, crawling and climbing back upon the glass shelves to retrieve good bottles of tequila, triple sec, and good aged rum. He sidles back down the crystal glass display, carefully, not wrecking anything. Snatching a margarita cocktail glass, he coats the rim in honey, then grinds it in thick sea salt. He fills it with tequila, triple sec, lime juice, a bit of paprika [sub]secret ingredient here[/sub] and two speared olives. Then in a high ball ice cubes, rum, coke, and squeezed lemon. He hands the margarita to Cosmo, the rum&coke to Riley. "House gift." Not my liquor anyway.~

18:25 Cosmo Lastere snickered, taking a long sip from his glass.

18:25 Gyro Feather is left wihtout any ability to move as he travels down the throat towards the core of the larger alien bird, leaving a lump in the creature's throat beneath his orange brown feathers. It takes a couple of swallows as the wave of motion isnt enough to squeeze the bird down in one go, occasionally getting stuck inside teh tight tube. One of hte waves is hard enough that a rousounding crack comes muffledly from the lump as it approaches Serizel's chest, drawing a whimpering noise from teh gryphon inside as his wings are crushed and compacted against his body, a feat much easier down now with one of the bones snapped. Finally his weight settles down into Serizel's crop, leaving a small bulge above Serizels' chest as the bird spreads out once more. His legs and talons push and claw at the smooth walls, and he bites at them with his beak, but the flesh seem sto slip right on out of his jaws. All around him he can hear the steady pounding of the alien's heart and his gradual breathing...and more worryingly the churning gut just a little ways beyond. Much of the alcohol from before is here, forming a pool beneath him and burning at his lungs.

18:26 < Gyro Feather> [sub]Cosmo shoulda had a cosmo![/sub]

18:27 < Cosmo Lastere> [sub]I do that too much already! x)[/sub]

18:29 Riley Ratso takes the rum and coke with a smile, slipping Serizel a $5 tip anyway. "Thanks!"

18:29 < Cosmo Lastere> [sub]Gotta AFK for a while, I'll return![/sub]

18:35 Serizel grunts and if he has trouble, massages the troublesome lump down his tight gullet, squeezing and stroking his own black-feathered neck, get down. By God, who do you think you are? Get Down!! He massages and squeezes Gyro down, damn pest! You are my food! God of all protestations. His crop is a tight place and there are diamonds in there for some other reason, but he does not digest them. However Gyro is not a diamond and soon will be moved to his nasty esophagus in a moment. He might crack and crack Gyro even further. What's it to him? Lunch. Collapse and snap and have your weak Earthling skeleton break in my gullet, get digested, God, whatever is easiest. He probably breaks more bones than the wings. Jeez, just digest. What a pest.~ He was done with you like 2 posts ago!~ Keehehehe. Unfortunately for Gyro, this is an alien's physiology. Yes, there was a heart beat to be heard, walls to play with, but oddly diamonds in that crop. Don't ask. But a venomous acid that deteriorates any living structure with an immediate lack of mercy. He is from a planet where they walk on burning phosphorous and eat quartz, for God's sake, there's not much hope in his crop, sweetie.~

18:36 Serizel gently pats away Riley's $5 bill, "No no, no tips. Ain't even my liquor I'm just having fun."

18:40 Riley Ratso shrugs and takes it back, sipping the cocktail and grinning. "Alright, whatever you say~"

18:41 Serizel taps Riley on the nose, "Lemme know you want any other drink, aye?"

18:43 Riley Ratso blushes, "Will do, heh~"

18:48 Gyro Feather immediately learns how hostile of an enviroment this crop is as he moves around in it, kicking at some straing hard stones beneaht his paws, and feeling a pool of liquid almost immidiately beign to burn at a rate that seems to cause a sizzling in the air. On top of that there was the heat, quite a bit hotter than what had been in the maw, and that was sweltering. His body feels like its being both cooked and melted away within that chamber as the aggressive juices go to work. The walls shift around him in steady contractions, forcing the gritty floor against his body, trapping them, and then with a series of crunches pulverizing the bones and cauisng the gryphon to collapse down. He's only barely above the surface of the liquid now, and each passing moment brings more of the grinding sensation as his ability to fight is rendered impossible. Raw patches are quickly opening up all over him from teh qggressive juices and he feels liek he's starting to fade, wihtin the first couple minutes of being inside the creature's body.

18:53 Serizel burps venomous alcohol-breath with the kicking there centered in his crop and he mutters low, smirking to himself, "God, he just wants the full tour doesn't he?~" He snickers and pours himself a jigger of High West Rendezvous rye whisky and down that quite poisonously. Yes, on top of that there was the heat, an immense, immediate, insurmountable heat. Of all-over sides. Everywhere. What a jack-assed crop he had. Even such a storage unit deteriorated his prey. But he undesrtands the scenario his cute friend Gyro is forcibly succumbing under. He presses his hand against his upper belly, smashing his crop tighter, "Yes. Yes just relax. It'll be over soon. You will be my energy soon. You were so cute. Your nourishment, I think, I will expend in masturbation, how pleased you must be." He shoves his hand in further, cramming him against that floor of inexplicable diamonds. At least you die like a baller. Look at all those diamonds, glinting, so beautiful. And the acids creeping in devouring those feathers and flesh and mind and bye.~

19:01 Gyro Feather struggles against the ceaseless tide as yet anothe rwash of aclohol tumbles down on top of him, adding to the fumes and starting to dull his mind further, the whole combination of effects starting to leave him rather light headed. All around him he can hear that teasing taunting voice, but there's nothing for him to do about it. He cant respond, and he catn fight, especailly as a hand presses him further down beneath the surface of the liquid. In the darkness eh wouldnt be able to see the diamonds even if he cared to look...and based on how his eyes were stinging, there was a good chance even int he light he'd be blind at this point. His struggle start to slow down as more of his muscles succumb to the corusing acids...until finally the bird ends up slumping inside of there. In spite of everything his feathers and fur are the most likely things to survive the entire trip.

19:01 Serizel happens to be behind the bar and breaks his beaming gaze, "Drinks all, what? What?"