Pre-Series - 1926
"I'm not surprised. 'The Ninth Circle'? I can tell that you came up with the name. Oh, and put that on my tab."
Ishiah glared at him from the other side of the bar, setting down the half-empty bottle of moonshine with more force than necessary.
"Here's your drink," he said, and turned away, "And I'm not keeping a tab."
Robin raised an eyebrow, "Aren't we adults now, Ishiah? I thought you'd move on by now. I haven't seen you in a century, after all."
It was true. Robin looked over the peri with casual interest, no more than to compare him from the last time Robin had seen him. Ishiah's hair was shorter, his eyes a whole lot older than what Robin remembered, and, of course, there was that scar. It hadn't been a scar the last time, but a real flesh wound that bled everywhere, courtesy of the one and only Robin Goodfellow.
The peri glanced back, a faint shimmer of wings momentarily setting a halo in his hair, but he was far from looking angelic besides.
"Honestly? I could have gone on for another millennia without seeing you again, but it looks like you haven't moved on either," Ishiah said, anger seething his words.
"Woah, don't go shooting in the dark now. You're not hitting a thing."
Ishiah faced him again, visibly furious, but it seemed the peri also did a lot of growing up; he hadn't gutted Robin with a sword yet, "Fine. Then why are you here?"
Robin didn't even pause, "You run a bar, Ishiah. I thought it'd be obvious enough."
"Of course," Ishiah said sarcastically, "Do I also run the only speakeasy in New York too?"
Well, that was something Robin would have to think about later, but he replied easily, "Well, it is the only clean bar where I can get a free drink and piss off its barkeep."
He could see Ishiah restraining himself. The Ninth Circle was a new establishment— Ishiah would have to keep his cool until he could set up a reputation for himself. It wouldn't do him any good if he started throwing furniture and patrons around yet.
"Robin, I want you out. Now."
Being merciful was never a virtue here, but Robin was getting bored anyway. He stood up, taking the bottle of moonshine with him. "Whatever you say, Ish. Put this on my tab."
"A tab would be suggesting that you'd come back, so no. Pay up, bastard."
Robin grinned, "Ah."
He left.
And, of course, he didn't pay.
