Path: mit-eddie!mit-amt!snorkelwacker!usc!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!sdd.hp.com!hplabs!hpfcso!daq From: daq@hpfcso.HP.COM (Doug Quarnstrom) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Sorrow Message-ID: <9060061@hpfcso.HP.COM> Date: 9 Apr 90 18:44:39 GMT References: <8853@pogo.WV.TEK.COM> Organization: Hewlett-Packard, Fort Collins, CO, USA Lines: 44 Doug goes over to Kady's table to say a few things: > Over at Lyra's table, Kady asks Lyra something wistfully, to which >Lyra replies soothingly. Kady rises and walkes over to the bar, flinging >the hair out of her eyes self-consciously. She looks longingly at the poker >game going on, but > a) they probably don't want her butting in, I butted in, and I officially invite you to play. > b) she can't play poker and Make it up as you go along. I'll teach you if you want. > c) Kady is miserably shy. So are we all. That is the wonder of electronic communication. Just pretend you aren't shy. She collects another Sprite, and slowly walkes up to the chalk line. Fixing Kady, I do not have too many things to say to help, but I wanted to comment on the beauty of your prose. I absolutely loved the rain storm in the background while you were talking about the inability to cry. And the drops running down the window was a nice touch too. Nature cries for you. > "Anyway, I was wondering if anyone out there has the same trouble. If >you are, believe me; it is better to let it out. I have sometimes bottled >up sadness for so long that it starts to poison me. I do believe it has >left a permanent mark on me. Friends and family tell me I'm too reserved >and a perpetual frowner. Schoolmates used to tease me, calling me "Little >Thundercloud". Tears are part of the natural grieving process. I must say that tears will not change you into a happy person. They are cathartic and they do help, but I would not say that they are the crucial part of dealing with sorrow and pain. Also, it seems a little pointless to worry about the inability to cry when you want to. It will come when it must. "And thus my toast- to tears.... the healing rain." But I will drink to your toast. Doug Path: mit-eddie!mit-amt!snorkelwacker!usc!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!sdd.hp.com!hplabs!hpfcso!daq From: daq@hpfcso.HP.COM (Doug Quarnstrom) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Preoccupied Message-ID: <9060062@hpfcso.HP.COM> Date: 9 Apr 90 20:24:50 GMT References: <79029@tut.cis.ohio-state.edu> Organization: Hewlett-Packard, Fort Collins, CO, USA Lines: 37 >"You FOLD?" Thenomain sighs and looks over at his somewhat out-of-it >opponent. "You... going to... oh, never mind." He puts his cards down and >reaches down benieth the table, pulling out a large bulky textbook. >Upon the punning, his head snaps up and a large smile crosses his face. >"THAT is what I was told was here! Place of puns. Not to be critical, and >surely nothing that I was prepared to happen to myself, but to be reminded >time and time again that I can be alone or in pain or whatnot is a sure way >to let myself fall into the very same." You are right. I know that I do not work hard enough to make this a fun place, and I will try to do so in the future. There is much joy in the world, and we should try to remember that and remind each other. >Placing the book under the table again, you hear a distinct zipping noise. >"What I mean to be bringing this together to is that being both at once is >enough to shake most people up. And, as I said, I certainly don't want to >be rude but even the amazing power of the *bamfs* and the wonderful >mathematical parody (c'mon, it was last year and I was brain dead with that), >the overwhelming feeling of angst and lonliness is just too much for me." Yes, it does get a bit oppressive. But people are lonely, and the virtual environment gives us all a very great opprotunity to unburden ourselves completely to strangers. It is much harder to work for a cheerful environment, and it should not be that completely anyway. There is a balance, and it shifts back and forth. >He stops... turns around... points towards the fire. "In the fire, Fred." >Timidly, the glass falls over and rolls into the fire. >Thenomain shrugs and walks out the door. Later. Doug Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!husc6!encore!pinocchio From: terryk@pinocchio (Terence Kelleher) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Hello, did any one hear me? Message-ID: <11551@encore.Encore.COM> Date: 10 Apr 90 02:24:03 GMT Sender: news@Encore.COM Reply-To: terryk@pinocchio (Terence Kelleher) Organization: Encore Computer Corp Lines: 50 A voice picks up from the padded bar stool where the woman in the muted paisley sweater is sitting. "Am I missing some inside jokes or something? Other than a couple generic hellos, no one seems to want to answer me. Have I turned invisible? Or is there some requisite pain that one has to share to be included? Maybe since I am not a college student (nor ever was one) or going through a painful break up, there is no place for me here? I feel I should apologize for being happy or not knowing one of you on the outside. Is this true? Deal me in for one hand at poker and I'll tell a story." She takes her glass of whiskey and sits at the table, wedging herself in the nearest opening in a table that seems too crowded to allow her passage. She grips her whiskey in ever whitening knuckles. "I came from a large family and if you ask anyone who knew us it was obvious that we had a multitude of problems. Alchoholism, Insanity, You name it. I was one of the youngest in the family. Oddly enough I wound up FAIRLY well adjusted, blocking out most of the ugliness. Of course you wouldn't know this but with all the others screaming their problems (and creating new ones) at the top of their lungs, no one paid much attention to the quiet little girl in the corner untill the beserker rages hit. To this day I have a problem with being ignored, mostly I *HATE* it. Once I stood in a store at a make up counter and waited for a clerk to wait on me. It took her fifteen minutes to see me. (sip) I've grown accustomed and even accepted the fact that if I'm not loud I'm not noticeable. But here at Callahan's I thought it would be different. Do you realize how closed you sound to outsiders looking in? I watched for a while before I spoke up and even then it wasted the breath I used. I'm not flashily dressed, nor do I use magics to stand out. I'm comfortable the way I am and if being regular in here is unacceptable...... . . Sorry, Mike. I'll find another watering hole. This reminds me of the time a friend of mine told me of... He was driving an ambulance from an accident scene with a patient in the back trying to get to the hospital. He got there in good time over the tracks and through the back streets. He pulled up to the big double doors and ran to the back to get the victim in as quick as possible. As he opened the doors to the ambulance, he was greeted with the sight of the victim trying to climb back into the gurney to be taken into the hospital. He KNEW he took those tracks too fast." Hildy -- Terence Kelleher Encore Computer Corporation terryk@encore.com Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!usc!jarthur!bweed From: bweed@jarthur.Claremont.EDU (Whimper of the Walking Dead She-Devils) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Hello, did any one hear me? Message-ID: <6035@jarthur.Claremont.EDU> Date: 10 Apr 90 04:39:57 GMT References: <11551@encore.Encore.COM> Organization: Hotel Pandemonium (Harvey Mudd College, Claremont, CA) Lines: 46 In article <11551@encore.Encore.COM> terryk@pinocchio (Terence Kelleher) writes: |A voice picks up from the padded bar stool where the woman in the |muted paisley sweater is sitting. | |"Am I missing some inside jokes or something? Other than a couple |generic hellos, no one seems to want to answer me. Have I turned |invisible? Or is there some requisite pain that one has to share to |be included? ... [story deleted] ... (sip) I've grown accustomed and even accepted the fact that if |I'm not loud I'm not noticeable. But here at Callahan's I thought it |would be different. Do you realize how closed you sound to outsiders |looking in? I watched for a while before I spoke up and even then it |wasted the breath I used. I'm not flashily dressed, nor do I use |magics to stand out. I'm comfortable the way I am and if being |regular in here is unacceptable...... . . | |Sorry, Mike. I'll find another watering hole. The fuzzyelf listens with some sadness to Hildy. "Hildy, I suspect that it's the nature of this place. Were this an ideal Callahan's (and it tries so hard to be!), we could see each other's faces, but without such visual cues, one has to be well-- colorful-- in prose." "I may have missed your original hellos-- not only did I find this place so late, but for a while I could barely keep track of a conversation in here due to outside pressures." She takes a slurp of rootbeer, and continues. "As for being `regular'... why, that's no sin. Some of us adopt other forms [she grins selfconsciously] because we don't have to be just ourselves for the time we spend in here-- we can be as we'd like to be, from radically different to just (for want of a better term) `ourselves plus'. Don't let our whimsy make you feel you got to put on a mask you don't want to wear." And on that note, she sits on a chair (not in it, *on* it-- her feet in the seat and her rear on the chair's back). -- | Brandi Weed bweed@jarthur.claremont.edu !uunet!jarthur!bweed | Path: mit-eddie!mintaka!think!yale!cs.utexas.edu!samsung!uunet!zephyr.ens.tek.com!orca.wv.tek.com!pogo!andyd From: andyd@pogo.WV.TEK.COM (Laura Davidson) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Mail - I lost it Message-ID: <8859@pogo.WV.TEK.COM> Date: 10 Apr 90 03:28:25 GMT Reply-To: andyd@pogo.WV.TEK.COM (Laura Davidson) Distribution: na Organization: Tektronix Guest Lines: 13 April 9, 1990 Just so references are accurate - I've lost about half of the mail in the last two days to a TYPO. If you didn't recieve a reply (and this applies to letters for Kady OR Lyra) please send it again. Sorry, folks. A voice said, Look me in the stars |~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~| And tell me truly, men of earth, | Shannalyralythia | If all the soul-and-body scars |________________________________| Were not too much to pay for birth. -Robert Frost, A Question -- Andy Davidson Toolsmith-in-residence Tektronix (503) 685-3033 Internet: andyd@pogo.WV.tek.com uucp: ...!tektronix!pogo!andyd Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!usc!cs.utexas.edu!uunet!zephyr.ens.tek.com!orca.wv.tek.com!pogo!andyd From: andyd@pogo.WV.TEK.COM (Laura Davidson) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Sorrow Message-ID: <8860@pogo.WV.TEK.COM> Date: 10 Apr 90 03:36:30 GMT References: <8853@pogo.WV.TEK.COM> <8854@pogo.WV.TEK.COM> Reply-To: andyd@pogo.WV.TEK.COM (Laura Davidson) Distribution: na Organization: Tektronix Guest Lines: 95 In article <8854@pogo.WV.TEK.COM> andyd@pogo.WV.TEK.COM (Laura Davidson) writes: > >Lyra stands up when Kady is finished. > "I know what you mean, Kady. I had much the same thing happen when I was >eleven, only she was just a good acquaintance, and of course I'd met you by >then. You are one up on me. I still haven't cried over her death. >Actually, I haven't cried since I was" (long pause as she thinks) "Oh, about >eight. And if you hold it in too long sorrow becomes anger, or festering >self-pity." > > "I agree. To tears!" > > <<*CRASH*!>> > > >-- >A voice said, Look me in the stars |~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~| >And tell me truly, men of earth, | Shannalyralythia | >If all the soul-and-body scars |________________________________| >Were not too much to pay for birth. -Robert Frost, A Question Lyra gets up form her table, which is empty, Kady apparently not being here. Also, she seems to have decided that Basta does not belong in Callahans. She sighs. "I seem to have done it again - I know what I mean, but when I go to say it, it comes out all wrong!" She looks exasperated. "I have cried as recently as last week - but I haven't CRIED, at least over anything about myself, since I was eight. The difference is, when you cry, salty liquid drops roll down your face in response to something. When you CRY, it is, with or without tears, an emotinal realease intended to relax stress levels. All my tears have been anger or pain - or allergies - but haven't helped me *release* the pain." Lyra looks as though she thinks she's talking too much, but goes on before she can worry about it any more. "All too often - as in the song I accompanied Kady on - I find myself unable to *comprehend* the pain. I enjoy the music if it is well-written or has a good tune, and I don't if it isn't and doesn't. This carries into other areas. I was watching a show last night in which a girl's parents find out she has been murdered; her (I believe innocent, though I have not yet seen the end) boyfriend found out when he was accused of killing her. I (somewhat sarcastically) criticized the acting and special effects. And the writers' abilites. So much for caring." This last line is bitter. Lyra looks desperate, vaguely lost. She wanders over to a window showing a sun-dappled meadow. She looks out it a moment, then turns to face the room, leaning her back on the window sill. Her face slips, almost automatically, back into its normal unreadable mask. The window behind her darkens with a thunderstorm, and the grass of the meadow is lashed by violent winds. "For you, I can care. I can CRY. I can understand - now. But only with effort, yet. Perhaps, someday, I shall learn to deal with my own pain. But at least I can truly care about pain as well as joy, here. For one, without the other, is made pointless. Except for Kady, I don't believe I have met any of you, though I could be mistaken. However, I find your problems and concerns as real as or more real than my own, to me." "No; surprisingly I have not considered suicide as a serious answer, though if I tell you my reason it won't seem so surprising - I felt like it was giving up, saying that I really WAS worthless - and now I know I'm not. You have been a great deal of help -- I could say that of any group of people who listened and didn't scoff, and you have also tried (very successfully) to help." Lyra clenches her jaw, looking determined. Then she glances around the room, looking startled. Her gaze stops briefly on Orion, Kareth, Eretria, and The Green Tiger. As it touches each one, she looks ever more startled. "Oh." There is a catch in her voice. "Oh." Her voice rises happily. She abruptly relaxes back against the windowsill. She starts to CRY, obviously the capitalized version. After crying for two or three minutes, she calms a little, sighs, and says, "Thank you." Then she giggles, looking down at her glass; it is somewhat startling, not only because you've never heard Lyra laugh, but also because she simply doesn't come across as the gigglish type. She pulls the green-and-grey swirly fuzzy out of the glass. "Sorry, but I'm afraid it's been empty quite a while." The fuzzy gives a disappointed chirring sound, but purrs more happily as Lyra absentmindedly strokes it. Lyra is quite a sight right now - her eyes are red and puffy, tear-tracks are running down her cheeks, and giggles are vying with quick gasps of air for order of importance. In other words, she comes across as more than a little hysterical. She takes two deep breaths and carefully calms herself. But it isn't quite the mask of before, it's just a touch of control. Walking to the chalk line, she raises her glass and says, "To friends, whose presence drive one back and back, ever back, to life and sanity. And to people in need, that they may find them!" *<>* You notice that the window is sunny again, the rain has passed. And the grass has been cleaned and freshened by its passing. Lyra gets a Dr. Pepper and pulls a chair over to a full table. Glancing around and seeing no objections, she sits down. She looks satisfied, though an occasional tear tracks its way down her cheek, mixing into her Dr. Pepper. -- A voice said, Look me in the stars |~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~| And tell me truly, men of earth, | Shannalyralythia | If all the soul-and-body scars |________________________________| Were not too much to pay for birth. -Robert Frost, A Question Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!usc!cs.utexas.edu!rutgers!shelby!lindy!news From: GE.LJB@forsythe.stanford.edu (Louis J Bookbinder) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: drumrolls Message-ID: <8879@lindy.Stanford.EDU> Date: 10 Apr 90 06:42:18 GMT Sender: news@lindy.Stanford.EDU (News Service) Lines: 21 clootataclootata, BOINK. An empty oilcan rolls into the Place and bumps against a table leg. Someone reaches down and picks it up. A note is wrapped on it and fastened with a rubber band. Written on it in clumsy script is: Hi, all, I'm on vacation. However I have a limited access magic picture here and can see the goings on. Green Tiger, please don't leave! Even if you have to be the hunt-mech (pretty flashy!). Please stay around and comment on the procedings. I am sorry you are under such pressure/overload. Wish I could help. Try poetry! Humor! Riddles! Tall tails (whoops). Doug, Thank you for the offer of the oilcan. I will accept when I come back. Hildy, I apologize. I never imagined a childhood as stressful as yours. Tell us how you survived! Nick Chopper - my opinion? dont ax! LB>- GE.LJB@Forsythe.stanford.edu Path: mit-eddie!rutgers!cs.utexas.edu!uunet!zephyr.ens.tek.com!tektronix!reed!mojo From: mojo@reed.bitnet (beyond time, space and control) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: The Hollow Wisp. Message-ID: <14656@reed.UUCP> Date: 9 Apr 90 19:24:36 GMT Sender: news@reed.UUCP Reply-To: mojo@reed.bitnet (beyond time, space and control) Organization: Paradise...or Basingstoke...or Reading Lines: 50 References: [I profoundly regret that this comes too late for Liam to read it. If anyone has a way to reach him, please forward it...] Morpheus nods to Liam. "It's an honour," he says, picking up his card and shuffling it back into the deck. He looks thoughtfully at Liam's cards. "Hmm. The Fool crossed by his own success; or, if you read literally enough, one against the world. Or none against the world; the Fool is Arcanum Zero, after all..." From his own deck, Morpheus places a card above the two already on the table. "Hopes, dreams, the best possible outcome: the Magician. The Querent, fulfilled; one's own personality successfully extended." Below the Fool: "What you have to work with: the Six of Cups, children playing in a garden. It is a card of the past and the future; memories and renewal, looking both back and ahead." To the cards' left. "The past: the Eight of Cups, a dejected figure walks away from the cups of his success. Inevitable loss; the passing of childhood innocence." To the right. "What is to come: Death, the auspicious Arcanum Thirteen. Mortality, as the design intimates. Change inevitable. The innocence of an adult, in the knowledge that death comes eventually." Morpheus pauses, then deals a column of four cards in quick succession, to the right of those already there, and reads from bottom to top. "Another aspect of yourself: the Hanged Man. Wisdom and the gift of prophecy; also change, but without order; the card with which both of us identify ourselves. "Those close to you, friends and associates: the Two of Swords, a hoodwinked figure crossing two blades in symmetry. Support, balance, friendship; if we flatter ourselves, it speaks well of Callahan's. "Hopes and fears: the Two of Wands. A man on a battlement, overlooking water and shore; he contemplates a globe in his hand. This is most often read as a card both of material success and of material trouble; I take it to mean mixed triumph, the sadness of Kublai Khan at the heart of his empire. "The last card: the Oracle, which sums up all its predecessors. The High Priestess: secrets, mystery unrevealed, the future open and unknowable. "Interpret for yourself; you know yourself better than I, friend." When Morpheus raises his eyes from the table, Liam has vanished, leaving the half-seen hint of a glowing wisp behind. Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!samsung!cs.utexas.edu!uunet!zephyr.ens.tek.com!tektronix!reed!thalen From: thalen@reed.UUCP (Dr. Paradox) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: WARNING Summary: :-/ Keywords: Touch Message-ID: <14660@reed.UUCP> Date: 9 Apr 90 22:35:41 GMT References: <15156@phoenix.Princeton.EDU> Reply-To: thalen@reed.UUCP (Dr. Paradox) Organization: Reed College, Portland OR Lines: 55 Thalen is again in cat form, sitting on a table, staring at his larger, green cousin in the rafters. He stands, stretches, and walks to the center of the table, still staring into the rafters. {Hunh. That is an _interesting_ situation.} he says, narrowing his gaze. {Have you ever heard about the studies done about humans and touch- sensitivity? When I first heard about them, I thought "Big deal," but now, with a certain amount more experiance in the matter, I think that they are some of the most cruel things I have ever heard of.} Thalen looks around. {Picture this. An entire dorm, in on a Psych experiment. Except one person. All of the others are instructed not to touch this person, and not to get within about two feet of them, all while acting just the same as they always did otherwise. And instructed to actively discourage any touching by this person. The results? If the person doesn't have someone outside the dorm that they are close to, they quickly become jumpy, irritable, and perpetually nervous. After less time than you think, (I don't have exact figures, and don't remember), the subject is neglecting homework, and becoming apathetic, while still *VERY* nervous and irritable. And I repeat, I think it is the most cruel thing that I have ever heard of, excepting (*possibly*) physical torture.} Thalen, having aquired the attention of about everyone in the room, rolls over and scratches his back against the table, until someone scratches his back for him. He then continues. {Now, I'm not saying that this has happened to me. I have met someone it was done to, and I asked him about it. His face abruptly turned a bit grey, *LITERALLY*, and he said "I'd rather not talk about it." When he started to act strangely, the experiment had been stopped. However, he had no real friends outside his dorm, so he had been hit by it really fast.} {I won't bother to compare this to your situation, since the (anti-) parallels are fairly obvious. I wonder if there is some deeply rooted reason for this effect, or if you haven't been touched for that long a time, or I don't know what.} {Now me? I know what my problem is. If you know this about touching, then you are a lot less susceptible to it. I know that I haven't been touched more than five times in the last three weeks (since I first started counting). And one of those was a wrestling fight that I started in the hall of our dorm because I wanted to touch someone; it eventually involved about six people) And I am able to stave off the effects of this, mostly because I know it is there. But that doesn't mean I'm enjoying it.} {As for you,} looking up at the tiger again, {I am amazed. I couldn't live a month without being touched. Would drive me nuts. Bonkers. Wacko. Et cetera.} He looks thoughtful for a moment. {Hmm, well, you'd better pull those kittens back if you're really serious about this. Because they are a part of you just as much as the Black Dragon is. Not that I am in that much of a position to know. It just *feels* true.} Thalen suddenly stops talking and appears to consider what he has just said. And suddenly, with a vocalized *MERROW!*, he turns back into the blond human being, wearing jeans and a Crosby, Stills, and Nash t-shirt, and a bronze dragon pendant. He stoops, and scoops up one of the green kittens, placing it in his lap, and scratching it behind the ears. Then he looks pleadingly up at the great cat. {Don't take them back. Don't take back the pieces of yourself that you have given Callahan's. Please.} Thalen, Integrated by Parts Path: mit-eddie!bu.edu!xylogics!transfer!lectroid!jjmhome!m2c!wpi!dutchman From: dutchman@wpi.wpi.edu (jonathan) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Message-ID: <11290@wpi.wpi.edu> Date: 10 Apr 90 08:45:04 GMT Organization: Worcester Polytechnic Institute, Worcester, Mass. Lines: 76 The door opens, quietly. In walks a man, nay, not a man. The being is ethereal, obviously not of this world. His (it's?) skin is paler than the palest of whites. Ruby lips surround very white teeth and a tongue that surreptitiously licks and touches everyone in the room. Of course, it, for that is what we shall call this being, it is dressed in black, but a black that swallows all the light around it, almost greedily... "Such a gathering. A unicorn or two, the stray shadow, a cynic, the odd fuzzie, a few cats and random others. Surely, this is a fine jest. All these humans and not-so-humans bearing their hearts and souls to one another through random collectins of electrons," says it, in a voice that is at once as deep as a basso but with overtones of a young shepard boy. "Callahan, what have you done? Do you really think these people mean what they say to one another, in carefully thought and planned messages? Does the phosphor on the screen really matter to them, once the terminal is off? Are they even able to touch each other through miles of cable? Oh, they must, they must, for these people have created their own reality, imbued it with its own laws and customs. I'll have a small goblet of blood, if you so please." With that, it places a large gold coin on the bar. "It doesn't matter whose, by the way." It smiles for the first time, revealing normal teeth, but its pupils grow larger, visibly swallowing the visages of those in the room. Mike looks a little green as he moves to the back, most likely to fulfill this odd customer's request. It begins to speak again. "What is this reality? A place of electronic escape, where one can be what one wishes. Even I, an unreal creature, am caught in it. But for those of you who are magical creatures, or beings who can perform magic, do your actions in this reality or others like it enable you to survive or even succeed beyond survival in other realities? Are the hours you spend here sobbing over lost opportunities, bubbling over with happiness, allowing you to attain what you want? Hmmmm...." It looks around the room, its eyes staring not through, but into everyone in the room. "Some say yes, some say no." Mike delivers a goblet of deep, dark red liquid to its hand. "Many thanks, milord." It drains the cup in a single swallow, leaving its lips even redder, if that be possible. A rare shudder passes through Callahan. "What is worse? Self-pity kept inside and dealt with there, or that which is shared, and dealt with by many? Is letting one's problems be handled by those more capable actually solving the problems? Je ne pense." The goblet is put on the bar, so lightly that one would swear it hovered before setting down. "But I am only a creature of your imagination, and as such, have only as much effect on your life as you wish of me. To some, I see that I have a greater effect than others." It stealthily moves to the middle of the floor, and smiles an evil smile, revealing teeth that are now sharp... But no longer sharp. In place of the vampiric creature is seen a young man wearing a tye-dye, torn jeans and no shoes. "Amazing what you can do with special effects and a little misdirection these days," says he in a voice that is vaguely familiar in its undertones. His twinkling eyes suggest a joke, but his countenance is serious. "Mike, think that gold piece is worth another glass? Of wine this time, please. Red." The goblet, quickly delivered, is downed just as quickly. The licking of the lips is the same, but the goblet makes a slight "clink" as it is set on the bar. The young man smiles at the sound. He heads to the door, avoiding the odd kitten and fuzzy, and places a heavy wool cloak over his shoulders as he goes. "Don't remember too much. Be..." The door closes as quietly as it opened. sweet dreams jonathan