Disclaimer: I don't own creator titles to White Wolf ideas/merchandise/etc.
I'm just a fan with a big imagination – and little patience for delay. (
Mercedes walked down the length of Main Street, the feeling of self- satisfaction evident in her light walk. Ever since she had gotten into that mess with the defendants last year, the one where she was found following her prey who, in his anger, had shot and killed three pedestrians, Scotland Yard had placed the woman on probation to review her four years with them.
Mercedes had thought that it was the end of her career. What is a private investigator without benefactors? If Scotland Yard let her loose, she wouldn't have enough money to pursue independent investigations... but then Mister Donovan Galway had come into her life, four months after the initial suspension from her duties without pay.
The sun danced fitfully as it tried to cling to the last reminiscence of Mercedes' golden brown locks before vanishing for another night beyond the horizon as the investigator turned into an alleyway off the side of the London's Finest – which was in fact nothing more than a slum tavern and bar with cheap entertainment. Even the beer was off the stale end which lead some to believe more happened there than the front business.
"Heya Suga. Back ta drown ou' da day?" the barkeep, Pete, asked as Mercedes pushed passed the burly thug by the door who kept careful watch for the authority of London.
"Nah. Seen Galway?" Mercedes responded as she slid onto a stool opposite the barkeep as he ran a darkly tinted rag over one of the shot glasses.
Pete lowered the shot glass and rag to the grimy bar counter as he commented, "Suga really dun wan' ta git involved wit 'im." The barkeep pursed his lips as he continued, "'e ain't a nice feller.."
Mercedes cut the dirty bartender off with a wave of her arm and a decrescendo of her hand, "Cut the warning, Pete. I know what I'm doing. How's the mead tonight?"
"It's doin' mighty fine, Suga." A smooth voice came from behind her.
Mercedes whirled around on her barstool, the spinner groaning beneath her weight as she came face to face with a red haired Irish man.
"Now now, Pete. Talkin' bad about me so early in the evening?"
"Nah, Mis'a Galway. Waz jus'.." Pete was cut off again, his lips this time, however, unable to form any words much to his dismay.
"Shall we, Suga?" Donovan asked, imitating the now frantic barkeep, as he extended a clean cut arm to Mercedes. "Tell me all about what you've found. I'm sure it will be worth my while."
A/N: Just introducing Mercedes a bit more. The first appearance of Donovan! Yay!
Mercedes walked down the length of Main Street, the feeling of self- satisfaction evident in her light walk. Ever since she had gotten into that mess with the defendants last year, the one where she was found following her prey who, in his anger, had shot and killed three pedestrians, Scotland Yard had placed the woman on probation to review her four years with them.
Mercedes had thought that it was the end of her career. What is a private investigator without benefactors? If Scotland Yard let her loose, she wouldn't have enough money to pursue independent investigations... but then Mister Donovan Galway had come into her life, four months after the initial suspension from her duties without pay.
The sun danced fitfully as it tried to cling to the last reminiscence of Mercedes' golden brown locks before vanishing for another night beyond the horizon as the investigator turned into an alleyway off the side of the London's Finest – which was in fact nothing more than a slum tavern and bar with cheap entertainment. Even the beer was off the stale end which lead some to believe more happened there than the front business.
"Heya Suga. Back ta drown ou' da day?" the barkeep, Pete, asked as Mercedes pushed passed the burly thug by the door who kept careful watch for the authority of London.
"Nah. Seen Galway?" Mercedes responded as she slid onto a stool opposite the barkeep as he ran a darkly tinted rag over one of the shot glasses.
Pete lowered the shot glass and rag to the grimy bar counter as he commented, "Suga really dun wan' ta git involved wit 'im." The barkeep pursed his lips as he continued, "'e ain't a nice feller.."
Mercedes cut the dirty bartender off with a wave of her arm and a decrescendo of her hand, "Cut the warning, Pete. I know what I'm doing. How's the mead tonight?"
"It's doin' mighty fine, Suga." A smooth voice came from behind her.
Mercedes whirled around on her barstool, the spinner groaning beneath her weight as she came face to face with a red haired Irish man.
"Now now, Pete. Talkin' bad about me so early in the evening?"
"Nah, Mis'a Galway. Waz jus'.." Pete was cut off again, his lips this time, however, unable to form any words much to his dismay.
"Shall we, Suga?" Donovan asked, imitating the now frantic barkeep, as he extended a clean cut arm to Mercedes. "Tell me all about what you've found. I'm sure it will be worth my while."
A/N: Just introducing Mercedes a bit more. The first appearance of Donovan! Yay!