Near the ring of fire, later...: Cat C & Reece E
Because he wasn't creepy, we won't say Reece was laying in wait for Cat, over where the bartop opened from the wall fire burned on in peeling red and yellow (so cheesy). We won't say that, because the truth was, he was just... waiting. There was no laying in. Yes, it was--I mean, yes, it was intentional, and it was for Cat, but... he just wasn't creepy about it. He had his third beer clasped between (real) fingers, and, totally not creepily, he enjoyed the cool sensation of the glass against his fingertips and the cold sweat that dripped down every so often as the air condensed in the heat.
He was a tall man, but he leaned against the Ring of Fire, not at all appreciating the lyrics 'I fell into a burning ring of fire...' as he put his weight on his shoulder, turned toward the bar, and tried not to trip anyone coming or going with his (nice, expensive) boots.—Metal fingers ran loosely through his hair, smoothing it back, though it didn't need it, and the man worked on parsing sounds as they erupted from the lips around him—lips, barstools on wood, pool balls, things like that. He sought out origins as a way to pass the time, even though it probably made him look, um, pretty... insane standing there, gaze flicking from one place to another, like a cat following a laser pointer.
Still, not creepy. Just mildly out of his mind, but not harming anyone. Which, you know, wasn't the look he was going for, but that's okay. It managed to keep him from being distracted until he registered Cat's presence. Then, he stood up straight, smacked his head into the weird shelf just there, propping up a horrible picture, and he swore—hurriedly pressing fingertips to the artwork to keep it from falling.
Standing there, hand pressed to a two-dimensional face, he smiled at Cat, if she'd noticed him (and how could she not? He was knocking things from her walls), and he cleared his throat. He eased the picture back into its place and gave the wall space, so he didn't make the same mistake twice, as he made the same different mistake twice in talking to the woman in denim boots near her bar.
"Uh--Hi." He glanced at the Ring of Fire. "I wasn't--I wasn't lying in wait. But, I was waiting for you. Anyway, you owe me a drink. Like, five drinks." His eyebrows went up and his expression was amused. "Nice boots."