![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small}
Mercy is Open (narrative)
Getting ahold of the Transnuding Furies in The City was a lot like getting Lorne's mother to stop yelling about how much he'd failed her--impossible.
After talking with Harry, Lorne started figuring exactly what he'd need before he could open Caritas for business.
The City'd been generous with him, that was true. There was a new, state-of-the-art Karaoke machine, and a bunch of song list binders. There was a piano on the stage, a decent microphone, stage lights and half a dozen different colored gels for them. The stage was small, that was true, but it could fit a person (or a demon) and that piano comfortably. Group performances would have to take place on the floor in front of the stage, but that was fine with Lorne. The tables were far enough back.
The bar was stocked.
The kitchen, small and off to the side, looked like it had everything it needed. Just to be sure, Lorne hired a local line cook and asked what the guy could make. When he said he could do onion rings, wings, and fries... Lorne hired him on the spot. He'd need a full-time bartender, but he'd found a part-timer.
Harry'd set up some wards for him, and had offered without Lorne asking, so that was wonderful. Lorne would need a witch or the furies to do the rest, but the wards would hold until then. A framed list of house rules hung on the wall, and it read as follows:
Caritas Sanctuary Rules
Hours of Operation ~ 9 P.M-3 A.M.
1. No violence of any kind will be tolerated here. Take it outside. And remember, you were warned.
2. Please sing one song at a time. No medleys. You can sign up for more than one song and perform throughout the evening.
3. Not tipping your bartender or waitstaff may result in trans-dimensional ejection from the premises without refund.
4. Be careful who you insult. We do not tolerate bigotry or prejudice in any form here.
5. If the lady said no, she said no. Leave her alone.
6. If you are too drunk to stand, you will be asked to leave. We will call you a taxi if necessary.
7. Leave your attitude at the door. This place is a haven, and while anyone is welcome here when in a foul mood, if you are ruining everyone else's evening, we reserve the right to slip something into your drink.
8. No heckling.
9. No throwing fruit or vegetables or booing.
10. We do not run tabs, unless you are a vampire with a soul.
The demon hummed, printing out basic menus on colorful computer paper, double-checking stock of the bar, and sending out this thing they called a Tweet from his phone, using the tiny incredible internet the phone had inside it:
Green Machine Hey City cats & kittens, Caritas opens tonight! $5 drinks till 1, wing specials & hooray til close!
Green Machine Please read the House Rules as you enter.
He flipped the switch that turned on the outside neon sign with the club's name in red, and he wondered how long it'd be until someone else like Angel walked through the door.
After talking with Harry, Lorne started figuring exactly what he'd need before he could open Caritas for business.
The City'd been generous with him, that was true. There was a new, state-of-the-art Karaoke machine, and a bunch of song list binders. There was a piano on the stage, a decent microphone, stage lights and half a dozen different colored gels for them. The stage was small, that was true, but it could fit a person (or a demon) and that piano comfortably. Group performances would have to take place on the floor in front of the stage, but that was fine with Lorne. The tables were far enough back.
The bar was stocked.
The kitchen, small and off to the side, looked like it had everything it needed. Just to be sure, Lorne hired a local line cook and asked what the guy could make. When he said he could do onion rings, wings, and fries... Lorne hired him on the spot. He'd need a full-time bartender, but he'd found a part-timer.
Harry'd set up some wards for him, and had offered without Lorne asking, so that was wonderful. Lorne would need a witch or the furies to do the rest, but the wards would hold until then. A framed list of house rules hung on the wall, and it read as follows:
Hours of Operation ~ 9 P.M-3 A.M.
1. No violence of any kind will be tolerated here. Take it outside. And remember, you were warned.
2. Please sing one song at a time. No medleys. You can sign up for more than one song and perform throughout the evening.
3. Not tipping your bartender or waitstaff may result in trans-dimensional ejection from the premises without refund.
4. Be careful who you insult. We do not tolerate bigotry or prejudice in any form here.
5. If the lady said no, she said no. Leave her alone.
6. If you are too drunk to stand, you will be asked to leave. We will call you a taxi if necessary.
7. Leave your attitude at the door. This place is a haven, and while anyone is welcome here when in a foul mood, if you are ruining everyone else's evening, we reserve the right to slip something into your drink.
8. No heckling.
9. No throwing fruit or vegetables or booing.
10. We do not run tabs, unless you are a vampire with a soul.
The demon hummed, printing out basic menus on colorful computer paper, double-checking stock of the bar, and sending out this thing they called a Tweet from his phone, using the tiny incredible internet the phone had inside it:
Green Machine Hey City cats & kittens, Caritas opens tonight! $5 drinks till 1, wing specials & hooray til close!
Green Machine Please read the House Rules as you enter.
He flipped the switch that turned on the outside neon sign with the club's name in red, and he wondered how long it'd be until someone else like Angel walked through the door.