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The motorcycles gave the bar away, for the sort of environment that would lie within. It was almost as if seeds of the underworld were sewn there, with the men and women that would enter and leave. Kamikaze sat out on her motorcycle for a few minutes, consulting with her 'advisors', as to the best choice of action. She wasn't about to just rush in there, looking, asking questions. Instead, she wanted to play it safe, play it slow. The two more reserved personalities advised caution, as Ven was a rather unknown party, as they as a whole had not interacted with the man, though they were sure that the faction they once called home had done so instead. Shizuka advised to be transparent and make no rash movements, even going as far as offering to take over, which was quickly shot down by Kamikaze. She was still the stronger personality of the three, and would stay this way as long as it was necessary. Three just wanted to make sure that they kept the host safe. She advised that it was going to be rather loud, and she knew that more voices talking along with the multitude of voices that haunted them as well as flooded the mind, it was not going to pan well, knowing that Kamikaze got agitated easily and stressed out in these situations.

Still outside, Kamikaze parked the motorcycle as close to the door as she was able to, as to make sure she had a quick escape route. Slipping off, the Asian stood up, straightening her wardrobe out. First impressions counted, and she wanted to look her best. In an all white dress, Kamikaze looked almost as if she belonged in The Ring or one of the Grudge movies. Nervous tics began to form as she came closer to the door, the chatter and music intensifying. Three assured Kamikaze that all was well, and that Shizuka and her would always be able to take over, in case Kamikaze could not handle the situation. Taking a few extra moments, the woman entered the bar, and headed straight for the counter. Almost as soon as she entered, she could feel that others felt her presence. Some looked agitated, others rather put off. They just seemed to look as if this woman was rather odd, and did not enjoy her being there. Kamikaze's paranoia started to eat at her, as she stepped toward the bar, before she set her hands to the bar, looking around.

Shadows sing of he who is in charge. We seek answers. We seek... shadows.

Of course, with her many trips to the Shadow Realm, and how long she had resided in there, Kamikaze's already manic mind had become more warped, her speech quick, nearly undecipherable. Waiting for a reply, she stood still, very still, lips held in a way to hide the permanently elongated canines that she was blessed with. The amount of people within the bar, as well as the amount of noises was starting to eat away at the woman's anxiety, causing her nervous tics to flare up again. Eyes refused to meet others', she looked around, her fingers quietly tapping to and fro on the counter. If she would have been able to have it her way, Kamikaze would have simply gotten his information, and shot the man an email, then perhaps meet him in the sewers. She felt safe in the sewers, but not topside. Topside, Kamikaze had been sent to the Shadows too many times, and had learned not to trust many of the topsiders. Shizuka and Three assured Kamikaze that she did not have to worry, but the three personalities all resigned to the fact that they would protect themselves if needed.

Grimacing, the voices were flooding her mind, more than usual, causing Kamikaze to grip at the counter. She decided to sit, and look around, before trying to calm down. Remembering the 'sessions' with Charles, Shizuka began to whisper methods of calming down to Kamikaze, in hopes that this would help. Closing her eyes, Kamikaze mentally counted down from ten to zero, then opened her eyes again.

We wish converse. We talk. He listens. He talk. We listens.

Slowly, Kamikaze's speech would deteriorate as she began to grow more nervous, the anxiety eating away at her, though she again tried to calm down. Perhaps Ven wasn't as terrible as she thought, though Kamikaze knew not always to take the good before the bad. She had done that frequently, within the Worthingtons, and had paid the price with being met with distrust. Anguish was tucked neatly within her wardrobe, in case the worst would come about, but she was not about to wage war within this bar if she didn't have to.

Ven had been away from Harper Rock for quite some time. Too long, both he and his club would probably say. Since his return, though, he had hit the ground running. The bar had borne the brunt of this newfound energy, with near constant cleaning and primping being done during off hours or quiet moments. If anything, the place was looking a lot less like the dive it was supposed to be and was starting to look almost respectable if one ignored the standard clientele of blood thieves and gangsters, necurats and general lowlifes and criminals of both the natural and supernatural worlds. All things considered, it was fairly amazing that the place wasn’t a swirling melting pot of extreme violence every night.

Still, though, this night was more like something he was used to from back in the day, if one can use that phrase to mean ‘about a year ago’. He was stationed, as he usually is, behind the bar. Rag over one shoulder, vague smile dancing at the corner of his mouth and always a friendly word as patrons trickled through his door. He’d got back in the swing of pulling pints and mixing cocktails (rum and coke. He didn’t do actual cocktails), and it was good to back in the town he called home, posted up in his bar seeing what the night would bring.

He’d not seen many of the old gang since he’d been back. Kleo, he had no idea where she was. Victor had been hanging around the bar the last couple of days, and he’d run into Dominique whilst beating on gangsters he didn’t have business deals with. He’d not seen Kenlie in a long time, though, and LaShana had been gone for quite some time. All in all, he had decided, the club was looking a bit thin in terms of boots on the ground, and that would need fixing. But all things in their proper time.

He had just reached a pause in his duties as barkeep/therapist (the two things tended to go hand in hand) and was about to give the par its obligatory wipe down when he noticed the unmistakable sound of a bike pulling up almost too close to the door. Either, he thought, someone was very keen to get in or they were worried that, in the not too distant future, they might be very keen to get out. Which was interesting. Generally speaking, the people that came to the Handle Bar came because they wanted to be there or had nowhere else to go for whatever reason. He didn’t judge and his patrons appreciated that.

As he wiped down the bartop, he kept an eye on the door, quite interested to see who or what would walk through it. In this city it could be almost anything. Even knowing that, he was still surprised when what entered the bar was what looked like a young Japanese girl dressed in a fairly pristine white dress. Who was also clearly carrying a gun. That part at least was something he was used to; and when it came to her choice of ensemble, to each their own.

The one thing that did give him pause was that she seemed to be talking to herself, and from what he could make out with his very limited grasp of lip reading, it was total gibberish. Not that that was a problem, Meluiwen was a bit… off and she wasn’t an issue when it came to anything. Just took a bit of getting used to was all. And besides, if she could afford a bike and a gun, she could afford a couple of drinks and that was all Ven was ever really worried about. That and people not starting a minor war in his bar.

So, smiling, he gave a her a nod of welcome as she made her way over to the bar and tossed his rag back up onto his shoulder. He was about to ask her what he could get her when she started speaking. Quickly realising that he had literally no idea what on earth she had just said, his smile became a little glazed and he just… stood there for a minute, trying to work out any sort of meaning from what she had said. After completely failing to do that, he snapped back into reality with a blink and hit the internal reset button.

“Evening there, love,” he opened, “Don’t think I’ve seen you in here before. What can I get you?”

Eyes quickly flicking to and fro, Kamikaze focused on Ven once he asked the question. Studying him, as well as the words that he spoke, the three personalities took a moment once more, to question if he was a threat or not. He didn't seem so. Nodding, then, Kamikaze looked to him once more. The words slowly formed within her mind, as she stared at him, looking around for a moment. She hadn't fed in a while, though she felt odd asking here, and she wasn't sure how to ask. She wished to feed, though not too much, as she had fed briefly before leaving to come to the bar.

Crimson gift within glass. Life poured out. Shadows sing fulfillment, gift of the angels. Grey demon provides?

Questions filled Kamikaze's mind to the brim, nearly spilling out. Her focus on Ven waned momentarily, watching the others within the bar, her hand gripping the weapon within hiding, though releasing it to rest both hands to the counter once more. It was disrespectful to shoot up the man's bar, without even knowing the man, nor conversing with him first. She'd hate to be a terrible and rude guest. Instead, she stared, until she could feel them. The voices echoed in the darkest reaches of Kamikaze's mind, whispers of death and destruction. The loudest was of her siblings, of her mother, her father, crying out that she was not there to have saved them. The worst was Tao, the wraith companion of Kamikaze, who had started following her around within the last number of months. The small child wraith aimlessly floated in, and about her person, before sitting beside her, just sitting there. No words came from the wraith, though it knew that Kamikaze could feel its presence well enough. It had latched onto her, from the Shadow Realm, since Kamikaze had felt a single moment of pity, for the spirit, as they walked in the dark realm.

Gripping the counter, Kamikaze counted from ten to zero once more, before looking back to Ven. With the others about her already beginning to feel more agitated, as well as uncomfortable, Kamikaze could tell, though she continued to focus on the man, as the auras permeated. Eyes flicked back and forth now, from Ven to Tao, causing her to grow nervous. She wasn't used to Tao being so close. Usually, the wraith was off doing whatnot, then reporting to her if they found out anything interesting, or rather useless. Whichever happened first. The wraith, though, was watching the others, then focused its gaze on Ven, black eyes staring, hauntingly so. It made a noise, which filled Kamikaze's head, enough to make the woman physically cringe. Kamikaze was unsure why he was still there. This was the longest time that the wraith had ever gathered close to Kamikaze, especially in public. Perhaps it was simply bad luck for Kamikaze. What was she going to do now? She was not going to be rude to Ven and leave with Tao, nor was she going to be mean to the phantom and shoo them away.

It was bad enough, that Kamikaze would seem a bit off her rocker, but the fact that she cast no shadow may have drawn attention, though she couldn't tell, nor did it seem to interest her in the slightest. What she was concerned with, was the fact that her wraith was not off collecting information. Staring at the wraith, she made a face, as if to tell them to go back to doing what they should have been doing all along. Begrudgingly, Tao floated off the stool, then wandered out to do just that, if it would appease the slavedriver.

The first thing that had struck Ven about his newest patron was that she was a little… off. At first, it wasn’t in any way that he could put his finger on. She just was. It was a feeling that did not go away as time went on and she continued to, for want of a better phrase, be herself. On the plus side, he was used to odd. He had to be. It was part and parcel of being both a vampire and running a bar. Bars seemed to attract odd people; it is an immutable fact of life. What was unsettling was that she seemed to be looking at him as though he was food.

Ven was, is, not food.

In trying to work out whether or not she was going to try to eat him, he almost entirely missed what it was that she was saying. Not that it would had helped much, she seemed entirely incoherent at the best of times in his, admittedly incredibly limited, experience of her. He was simply assuming that this was a good time for her. Then again, to be dressed the way she was and clutching a gun the way she was in this bar? Probably not the best of times. Assuming that this was the case and that she’d asked for a drink, a safe bet in a bar as a general rule, he went for the go-to drink for these situations. Obviously, a vodka cranberry.

With practiced ease, he put the thing together without thinking too much about it, and pushed it across the bar to her.

“Here you go. First one’s on me. Same for all the new customers we get.”

He got the odd feeling that she wasn’t exactly paying attention. This was mostly due to the fact that she seemed to be having a telepathic conversation with someone that wasn’t there. Not that that would be too odd in a city where telepathy was almost laughably common, she just happened to be staring at the bar stool next to her. That bit was slightly different from the norm in his experience. He decided that continuing to smile would be the best course of action, and so he did just that.

He started to pay more attention to her, a little worried that she might be about to have an Episode of some sort. At the moment, she was gripping the bar rather too heavily to be having a good time internally. He was almost worried that she was going to damage it, in fact. That aside, though, she did look almost as though she were meditating. Which was odd in this place. The only meditating anyone ever did was huddled at a corner booth over a succession of drinks to try to forget whatever it was that needed forgetting. She hadn’t, to the best of his knowledge, told him to keep them coming so he doubted that this was what was going on.

As he paid more attention he noticed something curious - she wasn’t casting a shadow. Which made her either very odd indeed, more than she appeared, or it made her a creature rather like himself. Exactly like himself in fact.

The vodka cranberry might well have been a bad choice, he mused. Oh well. Too late now.

As he’d rather suspected shortly before the strange female had lifted the glass to her lips, partaking of the vodka cranberry had not gone well. In any other establishment, the placing of what was clearly a loaded firearm on the bar would have been remarkable. Not so much here. Before he could inform her of the rules, though, she had returned the gun - custom from the look of it - from whence it came. He nodded with a smile, then quickly caught himself. A smile was probably not the best of reactions, considering the state she was in.

Briefly, he considered offering her a glass of water to help with the coughing, but rather like the previous libation, that would most likely end rather badly for everyone. Vampires could be such a pain sometimes, he mused. Still, something would need to be done before people got hurt. She already seemed a little off, and he didn’t want to do anything that might let that particular cat out of the bag. Decorators always seemed to charge far too much for what it was that they did. Mind you, that’s what prospects are for. Anyway.

He made his apologies quickly.

“My bad, love. Totally misjudged that one. Here, try this instead.”

He reached behind him, to the top shelf, and pulled down a bottle of Arbor Vitae’s finest. Sliding it across the counter, he went back to the smiling thing.

“On the house again. My way of saying sorry properly. I think you’ll find this one much more to your liking.”

His suspicions about what it is that she was were confirmed when her smile revealed what could only be described as fangs. Which was, in a way, a good thing all else aside. Humans drinking blood was drama that he definitely didn’t want. He blinked in surprise, though, as she said something that he actually vaguely understood, marking a first for their conversation so far tonight. He tried not to let it show too much, but he had a worrying feeling that that particular boat had long since sailed.

“You want to know about my bike? And you own a custom? Nice. Mine’s a custom too. Harley Dyna, originally. Friend of mine, Dominique, did some work on it for me. Runs like a beauty. It’s out front actually, if you want to take a look. It’s the one with the fanged skull airbrushed onto the fuel tank. Hard to miss, really. What is it you ride?”

He nodded politely as she continued to speak, only really putting her meaning together when she had finished.

“You were in Tytonidae?” he asked a little incredulously, “I’ve had some run ins with them. They decided they didn’t like an associate of mine, a few months back. Shot him up in here over a disagreement I never got the details of. I’m not exactly their biggest fan as a result. Good on you for giving them the finger, in my book. Stuffy bastards the lot of ‘em. Take themselves far too seriously for their own good.”

He paused.

“Wait. You teach people how to use swords?” he paused some more, “... you do?”