Starring:
Summary: An odd gathering of people end up meeting each other in a cantina.
Date It Happened: December 10, 2001
Bar Snacks
Aqui se Monstruos Cantina and Restaurant
Smaller than businesses that are more central in LA, Aqui se Monstruos is still sizeable for its location. The entrance is a small square room hardly big enough to allow two people to stand abreast inside it, and decorated with an Old Mexico sort of motif. At the opposite side of the entrance room is a pair of old-style swinging saloon doors polished dark along the tops and seams from the passing of many hands. Inside the cantina, the atmosphere is close and quiet. The lighting is low and muted, and the chatter of drinkers is supplemented with quietly playing Mariachi music (and on special occasions, a live Mariachi band can be found wandering around). The bar is small, but long enough to accommodate most of its usual patrons. Only when it gets really crowded do the tables and chairs pushed up against the walls come into use. Drinks here are of a classical Mexican sort: there is plenty of tequila.
The restaurant portion of the business is separated from the bar by an open doorway at the far end. It's small and the largest table seats a party of eight, however the food is sinfully good and has an excellent reputation. It's all Mexican here, but rumor has it that the Southwest-style burger and fries are to die for.
As for the place's name, well, it's up to customers to decide whether or not there are monsters here.
The cantina is beginning to fill up again after the post-dinner hour lull. The people who come in now are generally more interested in the liquor than the tasty Mexican fare, though the kitchen is still kept hopping to judge by the frenzy that can be spotted back there. The piped mariachi music plays over the dull roar of many simultaneous conversations, the ring of cell phones, and the tinkle of cutlery on plates.
Into this, Moxie enters, not lingering too long in the cramped doorway before continuing along into the restaurant proper. She foregoes the table and opts for the bar, hoisting herself up on one of the stools near the end. A few crumbled bills are pulled out of the pocket of her tight jeans, and she begins smoothing them out, adding them up, scrunching her face up thoughtfully as she contemplates the sum at which she arrives.
Francis's been eating here for years. He's practically got a table of his own. At the moment, he's in sport coat, slacks, blue shirt - the coat's unfastened, and there's occasionally a flash of the rig underneath, as well as the badge at his waist. But it's crowded, and he's alone, so he takes a seat at thebar. Next to Moxie, according to the MUSH laws of coincidence.
Coincidence is on LSD or something, because Seth is already in the Cantina and sitting at the bar, though he's in the middle of a rather large clump of preposterone'd men who are hooting about something or other. 'Babes' or 'boobies' are probably the topic of discussion, and they're providing the warlock with a great source of aggravation. It's because of his annoyance that he slides a few bills onto the bar and then slips off of his stool, starting to limp towards the main part of the restaurant - but wait. Wait. That's a familiar face. And that's another familiar face. He pauses between the bar and the restaurant, hovering for a few moments as he makes his decision and then heads for the bar again, coming up behind Moxie and Francis while staying far enough away that he hopefully won't quite be noticed yet.
Moxie doesn't immediately notice Frank, since she's still busy trying to figure out exactly what she can get with the seven dollars that her crumpled bills amount to. But what is meant to be just a passive sideways glance at the tool on the stool next to her turns into a double-take since, hey, she recognizes that tool. "Dude. Seriously. You following me?" she demands, gathering up her money in hand as if any grown man would bother with her seven bucks. Seth, thus far, goes unnoticed.
"Nope," says Frank, cheerfully laconic, as he glances over. "Ask Ramon there. I've been eating here for fifteen years," Ramon, the guy behind the counter, nods in agreement. HE pulls a very worn paperback out of the pocket of his coat, thumbs it open with a hand. "If all you've got is six bucks, the enchilada plate is a good bargain," he adds, in all apparent seriousness. Nor has he noticed Seth.
Obviously the fire-slinger hasn't been taken care of by the Watcher that Seth bothered. That's unfortunate. But it's time for him to swoop in to the rescue - in the form of occupying the seat on Moxie's other side. "Hey, perv. Julie. Anything interesting going on tonight?"
The next group of people that file in the door of the restaurant seem to mostly match the ethnicity of the setting more than the patronage; four men, three Hispanic, one Indian. It is the former three that keep a course for a table nearer the kitchen, and the latter strays from them as they move away from the entrance entirely. Samuel simply gives the trio a parting gesture before making his way over towards the bar, at least two spaces from Seth. He does not seem out of place, nor entirely the opposite- Samuel looks to be comfortable there, but also seems to have a certain airiness around him that may make him look preoccupied. His eyes and ears are open, but his heart isn't entirely into eavesdropping anywhere. Yet.
"Name's Frank," says the cop, cheerfully. "Nope." He ruffles through the paperback, finding his place. It is, ironically enough, The Big Sleep. "How's business, Doctor Buzzard?"
"/Seven/ dollars," Moxie corrects, as though this makes a big difference. Even with Ramon backing up the creep's story, she still seems wary and untrusting as she eyes him, not really bothering to hide that fact. And Ramon gets a suspicious look too. "Oh my God!" she exclaims as Seth opts to join them, turning on her stool to give him a wide-eyed look, not surprised as much as amazed. "Are /you/ following me? I'm pretty sure /someone/ has to be following me." Now on the lookout for these things, her gaze flickers over when Samuel ventures up to the bar nearby, but not recognizing them, she brings her attention back to the two she does know. Kinda.
"I'm not following anyone. I'm getting myself some goddamn nachos and quesadillas to take home." Seth smiles cheerily, laying his cane across his lap, and then leans in towards Moxie to squint at her produced monies. "Haven't beat up enough freshmen for their lunch money? You'd get a better case if you bothered the private school kids."
When someone says 'oh my God', you just have to look. And Samuel does just that, turning his attention towards the people just a couple of seats away from him. Now he is eavesdropping, though not noticeably. Just as much as anyone looking over at some poor girl saying people are following her garners. Because of this, the two men with Moxie are given a quick and silent third-degree. Visually.
Well, Francis pretty much literally has a sign that reads COP on him, though the badge isn't immediately evident. "I'd argue that you all are following me, but you've got no reason to," he says, serenely, turning a page in the paperback. He's handed a Southwest burger, without even having ordered it. Apparently that's what he gets. Every time.
"I thought you didn't like going home," Moxie points out cheekily, tightening her grip around her poor bills. "And please. This isn't little Bobby's milk money," she goes on, rolling her eyes at the sheer silliness of that idea. If she were going to steal money, she'd aim way higher than that! "Why would I follow you?" she demands of Francis, looking over at him with an unimpressed arch of her eyebrow. Never mind that he didn't actually accuse of such things.
Hah. "Who says my ex-wife is getting any of my delectable foodstuffs?" Because Seth certainly isn't bringing food home for anyone but himself. Rather than respond beyond that, however, he chooses to stay silent and unknowingly imitate Samuel by simply listening to the conversation going on beside him.
Going home. She's not getting any food. Why would he possibly be living with his ex-wife? Samuel glances away as the bartender files up. He orders only a glass of water for the time being, having not actually decided what he may want to try here. Plus, it gives him a minute to try and figure out this newest mystery. Samuel cannot help but give Seth another glance from the two empty seats away, idly curious.
"You wouldn't. My life is exceedingly dull," Francis says, serenely, with an arched brow, as he turns another page. "Bloody, but really dull."
Seth's eyebrows rise when Francis describes his life as being 'bloody', proving himself to be a faster on the uptake than Moxie is. It might be because he's used to that sort of talk. "Julie, if all you've got is a few bucks I'll be happy to buy you something to munch on, assuming you'd throw something at Frank. Anything on hand will do." Why? Because he can.
Samuel catches Moxie's eye when she looks past Seth, but only until she turns away herself. He takes the water left for him and only sips at it, now tossing a glance towards where the men he came with are still sitting. They are still there by the kitchen door, and look to be waiting for someone rather than caring to be customers.
Francis explains, matter of factly, between bites of his burger, "Because I work Homicide," And yet enjoys his red meat very much, evidently.
"Throw something at him?" Moxie repeats, sounding as if she thinks this idea has considerable merit. Until Francis finally comes right out and mentions the fact he's a cop. Now, she's keen on trouble, but starting a food fight with the police is probably not the fun sort of trouble - or at least not for long. "Uh, yeah, maybe I'll pass on that one." But still, the cop gets a vaguely disgusted look from the young girl. Ew. Authority.
Authority is pretty stupid. Seth isn't a fan, and now that Frank has confirmed himself as a member of the organization that puts down the little man, he's pretty much Out. "Here," he grunts, pulling out his billfold and dropping a twenty in front of Moxie after peeling it free. "Get yourself something to eat. Spill salsa down his shirt with photographic evidence, and next time I'll buy you a banquet." Seth edges off of his seat again and starts towards the main part of the restaurant, intending to wait for the rest of his takeout in a less crowded venue.
