keeping pests in their place [Cody]

[jagger]

Mirrah found herself in her old familiar hole, quite fond of Waterson Hall. Throwing herself into that worn familiar bar stool, she flashed a cheery grin at the bartender - whom, whether it was him working or not, she always referred to as Sam, and who currently rolled his eyes at her, preparing a shot of Bicardi 151 and Amaretto automatically. Sliding it down the bar to her wordlessly, he followed it shortly by a beer. "Oh Samuel, marry me. You know me too well." She grinned that cheerful Mirrah grin and the bartender chuckled.

Dropping the shot into her beer, she immediately tilted the glass back and shotgunned it, snapping the glass down on the bar and sliding it back to the bewildered bartender. "Thanks love! Beer me." Sam obliged; removing the now empty Flaming Dr. Pepper and replacing it with a simple pale ale. Mirrah left her drink on the bar as she sashayed over to the jukebox, hips twitching to imaginary music as she paged through the selection. Finding one - an oldie but a goodie - she dropped her quarter and punched the buttons, sitting back on her heels as the music started.

"Down on the corner... by the traffic light. Everybody's lookin'.. as she goes by.. they turn their heads and they.. watch her til she's gone. Lord have mercy, baby's got her blue jeans on.." She sauntered across the dance floor with intention, hips rocking to the music as she sang, popping a two-step here and there. "Sam! Come dance with me honey!" She cheered, to which the bartender replied negatively. Sprouting an impromptu pout, she tossed herself back up on the barstool. "You're out of the will, buddy." Cue raucous laughter from both.

[jay]

Stifling a yawn, the young man killed the engine on his Kawasaki Ninja ZX-14. He sat for a minute before taking his helmet off and swinging his leg over the seat. Stretching slightly, the young man winced at the tightness in his back muscles. Taking off his leather gloves and tucking them into, he tiredly ran a hand over his lightly stubbled face with a sigh. He tucked his keys into the pocket of his leather bike jacket and headed inside.

He nodded to a few people he knew, but didn't stop to talk. He headed straight to the bar where he handed his helmet and jacket to the bartender. He was a regular, in just about every night, so all the bartenders knew the drill. Cody Walker would come in and forfeit his helmet, jacket, and keys, then proceed to practically drink his face off, mood depending. Tonight's mood was actually pretty good, so it might be one of those semi-rare nights that he managed to sober up enough before last call to drive himself home.

Cody ordered himself a nice glass of Scotch to start things off, then settled in to people watch like he did almost every night. A couple of these, then maybe switch to some whiskey if he was feeling peckish, and then he'd probably finish the night off with some Guinness or a nice brown ale.

Hearing the jukebox come on, Cody looked around to see a fairly attractive woman encouraging the bartender to come dance with her. It made Cody wonder if she was actually just that drunk or if she was just naturally insane. Either way, he felt the song needed to go. Nah, this place was country enough, what they needed was some rock n' roll, classic of course. Waiting until the song was done, and wondering what was so funny further up the bar, Cody wondered what he should put on.

As he made his way to the jukebox, Cody tipped the woman he'd been watching earlier a cheeky wink. He then proceeded to drop in his own quarter and made his selection. As the first few bars of piano sounded out, Cody took up roost next to the woman instead of his original place down the bar. "Now, this is real music," he teased lightly, giving her a friendly grin, as Bob Seger's 'Old Time Rock N' Roll' started blasting from jukebox. "Cody Walker. Nice to meet you."

[jagger]

Mirrah did an about-face as he strolled by, looking that tall drink of water up and down with obvious intention. An eyebrow raised, she kicked her elbows up on the bar and leaned back, smirking at him slightly as the music changed. Good song; good taste. Mirrah didn't discriminate, she loved all music.. well, aside from smooth jazz, which just made her uptight. By the end of a jazz concert, she had filed down teeth and a thirst for blood.

"Hey, I dig that old kind'a rock 'n' roll, too.. It's the kinda music that just sooooothes the soul." She popped the end of her tongue between her teeth, chewing on the pink end with a delighted little grin turning up the corners of her mouth. "Names Mirrah Vesuvius. Pleasure's mine, Cody." She watched him for a second, chewing on her cheek as she turned to retrieve her sweating beer glass. Waiting about thirty seconds before sidling over to pop up onto a stool beside him - not so sly; but why beat around the bush? A bored Mirrah is a never a good Mirrah - she raised both eyebrows conspiratorially, leaning in slightly.

"I've never met you before." She quirked an eyebrow, as if just whispering some sort of national secret. "I try to meet everybody." She sparked another giant grin, leaning back slightly as she polished off half of her drink, cupping the glass between her hands. Her fingertips went to work drawing trails in the water ring on the bar, first a daisy; then a dog, and finally she swiped a napkin and wiped it clean, allowing the glass to rest again. She was not anywhere near being buzzed - she would need to embark on quite a few more drinks before touching that situation. Years of skilled drinking had built up quite a tolerance; one she was rather proud of - she could drink most men under the table without batting an eye. Sizing Cody up, she decided she wouldn't challenge him to that duel - Mirrah had an idea he was no lightweight, and by his size, he could squash her if he was an angry drunk.

"Sam. 'Nother beer, love." She requested, and the bartender nodded, retrieving her now-empty glass to refill.

[jay]

Cody gave the girl a half-grin as she commented on his music choice by using the lyrics to song he chose. Cute, but the tolerant type, not exactly endearing though. Then again, he had to remind himself that she might already be drunk. And since he wasn't, then that would explain everything. Quickly draining the remaining Scotch in his glass, Cody signaled the bartender. "Can I get another one of these? Thanks, man," he said quietly.

When she came over and leaned in toward him, Cody regarded her levelly. She was pretty enough. Not exactly Halle Berry, but hell, he was not likely to find someone like that around here. But, she was still pretty enough. She was obviously rather friendly, which could turn out kinda good. It had been a while since Cody had been in any sort of relationship, but he wasn't really looking for anything serious either. Though he'd probably never admit to anyone, what he really wanted was a bed buddy. Simple sex, no strings attached. But, as previously stated, no one else knew that and they never would.

"You've never met me because I'm not Mr. Sociality," Cody replied evenly, arching one brow at her quirkiness. "I try to avoid being met." Which was only half true. He didn't outright avoid meeting new people, he just kept the number of people he met to a minimum. Life was stressful enough without adding the drama of relationships to it. Especially as a cop. The last thing he needed was to go to some crime or accident scene and see a friend there. Seriously. Not good.

Finishing his Scotch in record time, Cody turned back to the bartender as he passed. "Couldn't trouble you for one more of these bad boys, could I?" he quipped. With Scotch number three working its way down, Cody wondered how many more would come until the slightest hint of a buzz kicked in.

[jagger]

Tossing a twenty on the bar to pay for her last two drinks, Mirrah picked up her refilled glass and stepped off the stool, sauntering back down to her original seat. Not Mr. Sociality - so why bother him? She wasn't in the business to disturb, merely to meet, to cheer during bad times and accompany during goods. She rarely had any relationship more intimate than "Can I buy you a drink?" and had, to date, never been in a real, honest to goodness, romantic situation or had someone call her a best friend. She simply wasn't that sort of person.

"Well, pleasure to have met you and sorry to disturb you, Mister Walker." She wasn't a sensitive person and had taken no offense; her tone remained light and airy but distinct - no problem there, message received. Finding herself against the back wall, across the bar now; she leaned her spine against it and propped her feet up on the vacant stools beside her. At five-foot-ten, she was a bit longer than the average woman here, and she knew that - though it didn't bother her any. Confident, level-headed, self-assured.. pick a word. Bottom line was that nothing really, truly bothered Mirrah; because she found nothing worthwhile to be bothered over.

"Don't try to take me to a disco... you won't even get me out on the flo'.." She flashed the bartender a wink, resuming her previous task: drink and be merry. Pulling her straw hat over her eyes, she settled back comfortably. "So how's your wife, Samuel?" a half-beat pause as the bartender responded affirmatively and she returned banter - "Fantastic. Good to hear." She let the conversation lull, her beer clasped protectively in her left hand while her right settled across her belt buckle. A true westerner, this one was from Kansas - barrel champion in '99, when she had been 19. Despite the negative thought from most competitors about barrel racing being half-a-sport, she was rather proud of her accomplishments. Not any average joe could run a clover in twelve flat.

Drink number 4 arrived for her and she flanked another grin, still lost in her own thoughts as she stared down the bar at nothing in particular, drink in hand and mind in the sky.

[jay]

Cody sat at the bar, paying no real mind to things as he slowly downed his third and fourth glasses of Scotch. Still he felt completely fine, maybe not fine enough to drive, but fine enough to walk, dance, or even carry on an intelligible conversation should the need arise. He made small talk with the bartender as he passed and refilled his drink. Every so often, Cody found his eyes wandering back to the girl he'd spoken to before, Mirrah. He found that he remembered it better than he remembered most names, probably because it was so unusual. Unusual was nice.

After finishing off his fifth Scotch, Cody flagged down the bartender. "I think it's time to shake things up a bit," he said. "I'm thinking some Fireball Whiskey would go down nice about this time. Better make it a tall one too."

Taking his first sip of the whiskey, Cody sighed softly. The slight cinnamon taste was a nice break from the sharpness of the Scotch. As he was drawing down to the last few dregs, he noticed a rather burly man getting rather red faced and loud. 'Oh god, not tonight, please just go home now,' Cody thought to himself. He didn't want to have to go all cop while he was off duty and relaxing. There were some nights when he felt like a drunk, unpaid bouncer. Just because he was a cop, the bartenders always seemed to expect him to take care of the riffraff.

[jagger]

Numero quatro was finished and she was making her way to ordering numero cinco when the lumberjack of an individual made his presence known. She hadn't noticed him before - that was new, she normally noticed everyone - and she kept her attention finely tuned on the drink before her. He was disturbed, hollering about dancing, and she made herself as small as possible.

That 'small as possible' knack didn't work when you were the only woman in a bar. Mirrah discovered that as she was hooted at. "Hey, toots, let's dance! You dance, right? Let's dance!" He headed toward her and Mirrah shrunk in her seat, turning to face the bar in anti-social fashion, cupping one hand over the side of her face to block her view of the oncoming bull of a man.

"No, no man, no thank you.." She smiled politely and shook off his arm as he laid hands on her. Her insistent refusal was ignored and he was trying to haul her off the bar stool as she clung for dear life, legs wrapping around the stool legs and arms grasping the bar. He knocked her legs loose and took to dragging her; Mirrah snapped. She released her arms suddenly, sending both of them staggering back and jerking around to punch the burly man square in the face, catching his cheek and nose in a closed-fist right jab. Instantly, alarm bells went off as she stared at the now pissed off drunk, with blood trickling down his upper lip. Oh shit. Little help?

[jay]

Cody had just begun to think that the loud, vulgarity of the drunk was simply a quickly passing phase. But, apparently that was simply not the case. Of course not, that would simply have been too easy, right? It was clearly asking too much for just one night out drinking where he didn't have to tell someone to calm down, sit down, or get out. Giving a quick glance around to see where exactly the bastard was trying to harass someone, Cody was angered to see that Mirrah was the only woman in the bar. This fact on its own was new. Usually there were dozens of women drowning their "sorrows" at the bar. Too much drama for Cody's taste.

At first Cody thought Mirrah's simply ignoring the man might get him to take a hint and bugger off. But, then he started getting loud and louder, increasingly insistent that she dance with him. Still, he didn't seem to be getting too bad, yet. So, Cody finished his whiskey and signaled for another, his eyes never leaving Mirrah down the bar. When his sixth came, Cody sipped it absently, still focused intently on the pair down the bar.

When the man actually put his hands on Mirrah, Cody was on his feet instantly. He set his drink down and strode angrily down the bar. Before he reached them, he watched in horror as Mirrah had the guts to actually hit the drunk. Even before she connected, Cody knew it was a bad idea. And after she connected, the drunk's face confirmed it. He broke into a semi jog to cover the last few paces between them as the drunk brought his hand up, possibly to retaliate against Mirrah's strike.

He grabbed the man's arm and pulled it away from Mirrah. "All right, pal," he said firmly. "I think you've had more than enough for tonight." Ignoring the slurred curses thrown his way, Cody managed to haul the drunk away from Mirrah and signaled for the bartender. "Couldn't do me a favor and call this lout a cab, could ya?" he asked, voice slightly strained with the effort of keeping the determined drunk in one place.

Clearly the drunk thought Cody was distracted enough to act. The next thing he knew, Cody's right cheek blossomed with the heated pain of a clenched fist. Having not been paying attention, Cody was sent toppling over a bar stool to the floor, effectively smashing his face off the bar itself on his way down. Sporting a bloody nose and swelling cheek, Cody managed to haul himself up from the floor with relative ease.

Before the man could take more than two steps back towards Mirrah, Cody was behind him and served him with a swift elbow to the back of the head. As he stumbled, Cody grabbed him again, this time holding both the drunk's hands behind his back. "How much do you like getting hit when you're not expecting it, you little shit?" he snapped, decent mood snapped by the recent events.

[jagger]

"Shit." She instinctively ducked as he raised a hand to her, gasping as the roughneck smacked Cody upside the head. The now humbled brunette sat back on her heels, stunned at her own gumption - not that she had never hit a man before; but she had never had someone intervene at her behalf and she had never made it such a well aimed shot. She was pleased with herself and simultaneously horrified. What had she done? Searching for a way to help as they struggled, she shook the pain out of her right hand, darting around the pair to head to the door. Before she could get past him - stupid on her part - the drunk had stuck his leg out to trip her, sending her sprawling.

Mirrah was already less than coordinated; despite her aptitude on horseback and on a dance floor, she was none too graceful. Her Dad had always joked that they should have named her Grace, because it'd be an ironic name. Her hands flew up in front of her as she tumbled toward the floor, landing with a crunch on her right arm. Pissed beyond belief, she flew to her feet, ignoring the scream from her shoulder and hurtling a glare at the burly fellow before stomping to the door and flinging it open. By now, the bartender had rounded the bar to help Cody deposit the troublemaker outside - which was, in and of itself, a struggle.

She had no doubt broken the man's nose, that required some restitution - it was either that or get sued and well... she didn't exactly have money for a lawyer on retainer. "I'll pay for your last round of drinks, call it payment for breaking that schnozz of yours, but don't ever put your hands on me again, asshole." Her eyes ablaze, she cradled her arm against her torso. Damn well, it was dislocated again. She could feel it hanging askew beside her, lifeless, and knew later she'd need to rough-house with herself. Easy to fix and then she'd be sore for awhile but no permanent harm done. She was Grace, all right.

Once the bartender had rounded the bar again; the drama quelled temporarily - though she had a feeling she was going to get railed by the individual behind the bar and the individual stationed at the bar for punching him to begin with, which she had already started forming an argument against - she sighed raggedly, retrieving her hat with her good arm. She was going to need a big, stiff drink and a nice, solid wall to slam her shoulder into. This was dislocation number six, and she found alcohol did wonders as an anesthetic.

[jay]

Cody was pissed off as it was. His night of drinking had been rudely interrupted, he'd been punched and sent over, and had smashed his face off the bar to boot. All of this called for finishing that whiskey and getting several others. And all this over a girl. Go bloody figure. The bartender, bless is soul, had decided to call the cops instead of a cab for the drunk. An overnight stay in the holding cell might prove useful in cooling the asshole's heels.

After piling the drunk into the back of the squad car, Cody gave a brief statement to the on-duty officer. They passed a few quick jokes and pleasantries before the officer went back to the station and Cody went back into the bar. He walked back to the bar, back to his drink more specifically and threw the rest of the glass down his throat without much feeling or thought at all. He then turned to the bartender. "Thanks for the help, man," he said, "I really appreciate it. I could really use another one of those nice tall glasses of whiskey though. Thanks again."

Turning then, Cody went back to Mirrah. He had vaguely noticed that she had been tripped during the struggle, but hadn't had the time to check on her at that point. The way she was holding her right arm made him think that it had been dislocated or something along those lines. So, he gently put a hand on her left shoulder. "Hey, you ok?" he asked, his eyes filled with concern. "Good punch, by the way. I think you busted that bastard's nose!"

[jagger]

Mirrah threw him a strained smile, half-stepping away from him; her eyes finding a stub wall that looked suitable. "Do me a favor? Order me a very, very large class of Jim Beam." With that, she clenched her teeth, hefting her elbow up to replace the shoulder into it's general proper area. Three quick steps and she slammed her upper body forcefully into the wall, biting her tongue hard enough to taste blood as she felt the faulty joint pop back into place. The pain immediately vanished - despite her still tasting the coppery fluid in her mouth - and was replaced by a dull ache. Rotating her shoulder in all directions, she sighed, stepping back to the bar - and by proxy, Cody.

"All's well that ends well. Sorry I punched him, Sam." She apologized to the bartender, winking at Cody as she settled herself, still cupping her shoulder protectively. "And thanks; Walker. Although I guess Officer would be a better title, eh?" She had seen the little display between him and the squad officer outside, put two and two together, and wound up with four. A cop didn't bother her unless she were speeding, however; so that was no hitch in her getalong. Cupping her head in her hands, she sighed. Headache forming. More alcohol, stat!

[jay]

Cody grinned when Mirrah asked him to order her the Jim Beam. He could only imagine the pain she was in. He'd dislocated more than his fair share of joints over the years, and knew how painful they were. That and she'd just clocked a guy almost twice her size, so her hand probably hurt too. Turning to the bartender, Cody nodded to him. "Well, you heard the lady," he said with a chuckle. "And I wouldn't say no to another whiskey either."

Cody winced when she relocated her shoulder and slid the Jim Beam over to her when she came back. "Feel better?" he asked, only half teasing. He slowly sipped at his whiskey, enjoying the slow burn as the warm liquid made its way down his throat. His eyes scanned the room. Everyone was recovering from the shock of the fight and subsequent arrest. Some had left. At least no one else was stupid enough to try and pick a fight with the cop. That would have been the worst idea of life.

When Mirrah apologized to the bartender, Cody made a face. "Hell, don't worry about it," he said, shaking his head. "That was a clear-cut case of self defense. No judge would ever question that." He took another long drink, nearly draining his now seventh drink, while Mirrah spoke again. He grinned at her when she called him officer. "The name is Cody," he said, "I only require you to call me Officer under two circumstances. One, is if I'm in uniform, and two, is if I have you handcuffed to my bed. Other than that, I'm just Cody." Yes, he had just gotten cheeky. But, now that he was ordering his eighth drink of the night it was practically warranted.

[jagger]

Feeling better wasn't the term; Mirrah's face was washed with relief. Had she been religious, she would have fallen down on her knees and thanked the Lord above for that amazing ability she had - the uncanny knack for relocating dislocated joints. She'd learned to do it while bouncing from rodeo to rodeo. No doctors needed, she could take care of herself. It was a circumstance that both kept her out of trouble and got her into it.

"Never better darlin'; now that my buddy Jim is around." She grabbed her drink and washed it down in two quick gulps, lowering her head as her cheeks colored at the warmth of the drink. Sighing quietly, she slid the empty glass back over to the bartender and sat with her eyes closed, hand on her cheek, zoned out for a minute as the alcohol took effect. She could feel the buzz coming, that wave of comfort and security; and it felt good. "Mmh.. I'll have another beer."

She glanced sideways at Cody at his comment - dirty; fabulous, she loved dirty. Another classic Mirrah smile sparked to life and she chuckled deviously, the wicked little grin curving her whole face into a bright representation of what Mirrah was all about. She was happiness; pure and simple. If she couldn't get a smile out of someone - no one could. It was her job. Leaning a bit closer to him under the ruse of reaching for a bowl of peanuts, she brought her lips close to his ear, voice dropping to a whisper. "Well, well, well. Be sure you remember my name, Officer Walker. You'll be screaming it later."

With that she sat back, distracting herself by facing away from Cody, eyes on the near empty dance floor and the miscellaneous pop music that blared. There was no evidence of the previous struggle - none at all, just the occasional dirty look tossed at them from the tabled patrons.

[jay]

Cody laughed as Mirrah downed her Jim Beam in record time. He downed his own whiskey in short order and signaled for another. He was now on drink eight and still wasn't feeling squat. This was not going to be good for later. He could see himself drinking enough to send a normal person with a regular alcohol tolerance into a coma. With a sigh, he tried taking it slow with this round of whiskey.

Rubbing a hand tiredly over his face, Cody winced as his fingers brushed against the bruise forming darkly on his cheek. When he pulled his hand away bloody, he stared at it confused for a moment before remembering the whole face-smashing-off-bar ordeal. He waved the bartender over. "Couldn't get a wet rag or something, could I?" he asked with a sheepish grin. "I guess I could stand to get cleaned up."

After mopping himself up, Cody turned his attention back to his drink. He'd just taken a sip when Mirrah leaned closer and whispered in his ear. He snorted, working very hard at not spray his drink across the bar with laughter. Swallowing, he turned to see her facing away from him. So, he moved until he was standing directly behind her. "Baby, if you're that good, on my honor as an Officer, I'd get down on one knee and as you to marry me," he said softly. "But, I'm a skeptic, so I'd naturally have to see for myself whether your claims are true or not."

[jagger]

Under better circumstances, watching men beat the shit out of each other was hot. Really; truly - you'd be hard-pressed to find a circumstance where Mirrah didn't find it incredibly arousing to have men knock each other senseless. Swiveling in her seat to find him standing behind her, she grinned up at him, taking the proffered wet rag from the bartender and standing on her very tippy-toes to dab at the sticky, drying blood at the crown of his skull.

"Well, if you're lucky, we'll see where that goes." A brief pause; and then she continued. "I'll say, you earned points not letting Lumberjack Charlie back there make me into roastbeef. My mouth writes checks my ass can't cash at times." She grabbed his jaw gently between two fingers and hauled him down to her level better, gently cleaning the gash on his face. Blowing a soft breath between her teeth, she grinned slightly. "This one is going to leave you with some character. S'okay. Scars are hot." Finishing the delicate task, she tossed the rag back over at the bartender, who made quick work of tossing it in the sink. Resisting her Scream-in-the-Library moment - she had those often - she released him with a quirky grin.

Standing to fish in her pockets for some change - and coming up with lint and some pennies - she pouted, glancing at the jukebox. Now there was some hideous song on - Milkshake? - and she shuddered. Anything, anything but this. "I need a quarter. This song has gotta go."