Alcohol and Tales of the Porta-John

[Marcus Foster]

"So then the Sergeant Major shows up and Knowles just goes apeshit.  He pulls his finger out and takes off.  He ends up hiding in the porta-shitter for three hours until we gotta form up for patrol."  The story, like so many others that tended to spew from the bearded, tattooed guy at the end of the bar was punctuated by a round of whiskey offered to the few listeners who lingered nearby.  It had only been a few months since Marcus Foster had returned to the city where he'd spent his teen years but he was already considered a staple at many of the bars downtown.

While it wasn't uncommon to find Marcus at a bar on a Friday, or any other random night, but he didn't often visit such places with the intent on meeting anyone.  At his behest he'd invited a number of his co-workers from the Academy for a night out.  The nature of his position at Bellefonte kept him (thankfully) away from the campus unless his services were needed and his relative inexperience with the rest of the staff made it imperative steps were taken to get acclimated with them outside of work.

"Hey, we're moving to the table over there."  Marcus said to the bartender, gesturing to the table in question.  "Can we get another round when you get a chance?"  He gave the bartender a thankful nod before sliding off the bar stool and relocating, a recently poured beer still in hand.  Once settled at the table Marcus caught sight of a familiar face entered the bar.  He raised a hand, waving them over.  "Hey!  Perfect timing.  Have a seat, we've got a round on the way, what're you drinking?

[Simon Finch]

"Scotch," Simon answered with a grin. He'd been a little surprised to have been invited out drinking, especially by who he'd been invited by. He didn't really know Marcus much more than the few times when they'd both been at the coffee machine in the morning after having a few too many drinks the night before. It seemed that they both had a habit of doing that, which made a total of one sure thing in common. It was a little strange, but he wanted to get out there, doing things other than work for a while. He spent way too much time in his office.

He sat down across from Marcus at the table and folded his hands, a move that made his appear very teacher-esque. It was a habit he didn't notice, and if he did, one that he'd have no idea how to fix. "So, are we the first ones here?"

[Lyra Blackwalde]

This was a pretty odd experience for Lyra. Not that she didn't go out very much, but her twin wasn't tagging along. Either way she'd gotten an invite to go out drinking with a couple other staff members. Simon she at least recognized the moment she entered the bar. Marcus was more of an enigma for her. She'd seen him maybe twice tops around the school, but if he was pulling the strings to get staff together at a bar then he just might be alright.

"Whiskey for me." She commented, sliding into the seat next to Simon with a smirk. "And it looks like we meet again." Then she turned her attention to the other man she hardly knew. Her eyes squinted for a moment while she tried to pinpoint the name. "Marcus, right? This was a great idea to come out here. At least now I'll have company." Usually it was with her twin, but he unfortunately couldn't make it for a number of reasons.

[Marcus Foster]

"Scotch it is." Were the first words out of Marcus' mouth. He did consider a drink order to be among the most acceptable forms of greeting among friends and/or co-workers, after all. He'd been at the bar well before the given meeting time but he had hardly spent the extra time drinking alone. Bars, it seemed, often felt more like home than his homes had over the years. He supposed it came with most bars, at least on the inside, tended to look the same while his residences changed on a constant rotation.

Before Marcus could strike up much of a conversation with Simon, a slim form appeared behind the power specialist. Marcus lit up, pleased there were at least a couple of his co-workers that had taken to his 'Academy staff bonding time'. "That's me." He replied with a nod. "Jameson alright?" He asked. The order that came from the brunette woman was succeeded in getting a smirk of approval from the host of the evening. He then, belatedly, turned his attention to Simon. "Glenfidditch? Dewar's?" Yes. It was imperative the important details get worked out before the conversation, or the night as a whole, could truly begin.