Deja Vu You, (tag :: the baddass behind the bar)

[Connor Haas]

The young man on the bike lifted the helmet away from his face and set it before him on the still humming tank. He'd been riding through the countryside for the past few hours in search of a place he might rather stay than Hart. Initially he'd considered setting up shop in a larger town but ultimately Hart seemed to be the right call. If he were going to make any headway on his path to discovery he might as well begin at the source. He wasn't sure how he was going to get on campus but he'd work that out later on once he was settled. So, Hart it was going to be. His new home.

Connor let the bike cool between his legs as he ruminated over the prospect of venturing inside the bar. He didn't have a hotel room or an apartment yet so the idea of drinking heavily was not at the top of his list. He was anxious to get a look at the community from an adult perspective though, so checking out the bar would do that. If he was going to be here for a while, he might as well have some fun in the process. He had called forward concerning rentals and available store fronts but those appointments weren't until the morning or afternoon tomorrow. A drink would suit after the travel and the long ride he'd just experienced.

Locking the engine and carrying the helmet in with him, Connor took advantage of the short walk to the door to loosely stretch out his neck and shoulders beneath the trim leather jacket that kept his body aerodynamic against the wind. His jeans were comfortable, well worn for riding. The same could be said for the boots he wore. Beneath the jacket his shirt was simple, some sports team logo or another or it could have even been for his parent's resort. He couldn't remember which one he had grabbed this morning when he had dressed. Making his way through the main door to the bar the room was darker than it had been outside.

The sun had yet to set casting his body in a halo of late day sun before the door shut behind him. It didn't take him long to decide he made the correct choice in stopping here. The place seemed comfortable and the kind of place real men came to cut loose. That excited him as much as the idea of wetting his whistle with a tasty beer. There was a seat available at the bar and so he took it. The helmet came to rest beside him as he waited to give up his order.

[Fergus Bogan]

It was busy and that was a good thing. Plenty of people were walking through the doors and though Fergus knew there were plenty more important things for him to be thinking about than the state of his business he'd almost done his own head in mulling them over and over. Iago was out and investigating the attacks. He'd told him not to suspect anyone just yet and Fergus knew that was sound advice. It was just a little harder for him to actually put that in to practice as it was to purely accept it. His mind never rested as it was and ever since the Sheriff's visit earlier that morning, it had been put into overdrive. There were so many possibilities, so many mysteries, and the distinct possibility that it would happen again. He'd tried to tell himself that there was also the possibility that it was an isolated incident and nothing would come of it. It would be another bear or something like that and one had come out on top. There was nothing out of the ordinary about that but at the same time Fergus couldn't help but think that to believe that would be the single most stupidest thing he'd ever believed in his life.

And so Fergus Bogan tried to busy himself with his business. He was working behind the bar, although there were enough staff to cover the extra patronage he'd just felt that the conversation with customers would do him some good, perhaps even distract him well enough that he could sleep later that night. So far he'd struck up a conversation with a few people, but nothing that had lasted beyond the usual pleasantries before they'd moved on in search of a game of pool or sat down for something to eat. In fact, Fergus was thinking about taking a break himself when the door opened and he caught a whiff of something new. It was someone he'd not met before. It was young and it came with the welcome scent of motor oil and soft leather... mixed in with a faint saltiness he couldn't place. Maybe whoever it was had just been to the beach, maybe he'd just eaten a plate full of fries from McDonalds. Whichever it was he found himself drawn to look at the figure who'd just entered the bar, watching him walk through the door and approach the bar.

As the young man sat down at the other end of it, putting his helmet up on the bar next to him Fergus couldn't help but stare for a few moments. He was young, only twenty or so, his hair blonde and eyes blue, stormy like the sea. At first he couldn't tell why he was so fascinated other than the man's obvious good looks and rather exquisite physique. But when he caught his eye, when their gaze met he knew exactly what it was the guy reminded him of - or rather, who. It was someone he hadn't seen since the sumer of 1967, and although Fergus knew they weren't the same person he couldn't help but remember as he looked at him. A few moments passed by before he realised, somewhat awkwardly that the man wanted a drink.

"Hey mate," His Irish accent was still present despite the length of time he'd lived in America, his voice deep and smooth, husky in the back of his throat. "What can I get ya?"

Nodding sharply as he went to fill the man's order, Fergus worried the inside of his cheek with his molars, suddenly feeling the need to go on that break and lung back a few dozen cigarettes. Why? The guy hadn't done anything wrong, hadn't done anything to worry him other than simply walk through the door. It was the memory that suddenly plagued him, the reminder of how amazing that summer had been and how relatively dreary his life was that followed. He'd been to Hart and left again. He'd married and she'd left him. He'd lain with men and women but none had ever compared and in the last sixteen years, he'd been married to the Pack, and to the bar.

"Haven't seen you 'round before," Fergus offered a smile as he passed him his drink, leaning his hip against the bar as he spoke. Perhaps the guy would have something interesting to talk about, as well as having such an inspiring face - he'd certainly managed to capture the lycan's attentions so far. They did get a lot of travellers, which is exactly what Fergus assumed him to be. It was those that generally had the better tales, as those who'd lived in Hart for too long tended to get a bit stale. Small towns and all that. "Just passing through, are ya?"

[Connor Haas]

The bar was suitably rough around the edges. Connor didn't enjoy the highly polished places that catered to guys his age in the larger cities. They felt too sleek and cold for his tastes. He could appreciate the glass, chrome and steel but his interests lay more along the lines of a small cottage on the shore or in aged brick and wood whether beam or floor. He enjoyed the feeling of being connected to something that had either came before him or would survive him. Nature did that and so did some forms of architecture. While this bar might not make any historical registers or amount to much in terms of art it was interestingly thick with the smell of old smoke, ale and something else he couldn't place.

He was tempted to call it musk, the scent, but he wasn't sure. He only knew that whatever it was, or whoever it was, he found the scent almost intoxicating. His eyes met the man behind the bar and he nearly shied away from the intensity he felt coming from the dark pools boring down on him. The man's accent was pleasant, from somewhere north of the old walls in the United Kingdom he felt. He couldn't help but smile, "Mate." He looked at the bottles stacked against the mirror behind the bar and decided on something easy and more filling, "Something dark and thick. Guinness Black if you have it." He could have described the lager in another way or simply ordered it, but he felt the urge to flirt.

The man was scruffy to say the least, rough, tough and maybe dangerously attractive. Con wasn't clear yet whether the man was one to kick his ass for the flirtation or tap him in the back room on top of the chest freezer. Either way, there was something about the man that told him Hart was going to be more fun than he had originally hoped. "I went to school here. A few years ago. Decided to return. Check out the old stomping grounds." He didn't know that his visit happened to coincide with a recent attack, "I've been in the area for a few days. Trying to settle on a place to hang my hat." He patted the top of his helmet and grinned. It wasn't clever but it told the man what he liked to ride, in case that wasn't clear.

[Fergus Bogan]

"Aye, one meal in a glass." Fergus nodded at the younger man, placing his drink in front of him. Needless to say, he approved of his choice of beverage. Though it was an unexpected one for the blonde, the lycan wasn't about to make a point of it. Never get in between a man and his drink was something of an unwritten rule, although as the owner of a bar he did have to exercise discretion often, and as a result, often got in the way when said man was particularly unruly. He supposed that rule needed to be rewritten somewhat to accommodate for the irony of his situation but it wasn't something he wanted to contemplate whilst standing in front of what was easily the most attractive young man in the bar. Fergus couldn't help but want to get to know him a little better. His light flirtation hadn't gone unnoticed, but at the same time the bar owner wasn't entirely sure if it was actually that, or he was reading too much into it. At over sixty years of age he didn't find he had twenty year olds lining up exactly, even though he knew he didn't look his age one bit. He still looked old enough to be a father or uncle rather than anything more intimate. That and he was married to the pack, and the bar. He barely had time for anything else. Still, he'd enjoy the view while it lasted.

Listening, Fergus was interested to hear of the other man having been of the town previously. He had never seen him before in spite of his sixteen year stint, though he supposed that up until now, he'd been too young to enter the bar. He didn't want to think how old the other man was when he'd first set himself up as alpha. Fergus wasn't exactly the go to the mall for shopping type, nor did he really spend much time in Hart proper at all. He was always here, or with the Pack. On the odd occasion he would take time to himself but it was never anywhere someone as young as the man in front of him might have hung out during his younger years. "Oh, St. Valentines, was it? The alpha raised his eyebrows, looking to continue conversation. "A.. friend of mine has a boy there. Good school," He wasn't entirely sure that Elliot counted as a friend, but for the purposes of this conversation he could be.

"Ah, don't blame you for comin' back, not really. Hart's a nice place, I can't seem to get away from it." Fergus chuckled as he leaned on the bar, watching the younger man, suddenly feeling the desire for a cigarette. He couldn't exactly call it a need given that his body barely had time to process the nicotine before it was eliminated from his system, but the hankering was definitely there. He swallowed as he caught sight of the other man's jawline, watching as he drank. Briefly, he made eye contact over the top of his glass. Yeah, cigarette. "What are ya ridin'?" Tipping his head toward the helmet, Fergus enquired after his bike. Perhaps they'd find some common interest there. Something that wouldn't make him feel so... old.

[Connor Haas]

"It was a decent school. A little weird though." Con suggested with an eye out to see if his phrasing earned a reaction from the man. It wasn't too early to start investigating the strange thing that had happened to him when he'd been a student here. This man might know something about all of that. He looked to be the type to keep his finger on the pulse of the community. Most of the time men who worked in bars knew things. A man just had to know what to ask and how to ask it.

"Guinness is a solid choice. I didn't think you'd have any South African beer. And I got that hit of accent there, so Guinness it is." He smiled and lifted the mug to his lips and took a sip. The man had a sexy voice. It sounded like the rough side of velvet. Still smooth but not boring or too reflective. The man held some mystery within himself. Connor liked that in a man. It made conversations and other things dangerous. There was nothing like trying to live safely on the edge as it were. Taking that desired drink he said, "Cheers."

Connor shrugged off the comment when the man said he couldn't seem to get away from Hart. "Nice enough place. Don't rush off on my account." He winked and made sure to make eye contact and hold it. The man's eyes were deep. Sexy deep like ravines at midnight when you had foolishly decided to jump into the rushing water and had yet to touch down or come up for air. A man could drowned in those eyes and be glad for it. He wanted a cigarette now.

"You got any ash trays?" Connor reached inside his jacket and removed the box pack of Marlboro Lights and a red lighter. "I couldn't afford to ship my bike so I bought a second hand 2005 Vulcan to hold me over." He waited to see if the man would produce an ash tray. Some American establishments frowned on smoking indoors and he hoped the craze hadn't found itself here too. "What about you? Do you ride?"

[Fergus Bogan]

Reaching into his back pocket Fergus pulled out his own packet of cigarettes, offering the younger man a nod of his head. They did have ashtrays and as long as Fergus Bogan was the owner of this roadhouse, they would smoke inside. Smoking was one of the things he rather enjoyed, along with drinking, and other, quieter habits that less people knew about. However where a misfortune lay within his physiology that alcohol simply would not get him drunk any longer, it was a blessing where any damage a cigarette might do would be undone, and thus he could do so without any ill effects. He liked that very much as the act of smoking was one of the few things Fergus relied on to calm him down. Though he knew the nicotine would barely affect him he had decided long ago it was simply a psychological thing - and that was good enough. Besides, he liked the taste. Seeing the young blonde do the same was definitely a point in the other man's scoreboard. There was something appealing about tasting the smoke in a lover's mouth. Something sexy about sharing a cigarette, of kissing another with a mouthful of it. The other man's lingering gaze had definitely not gone amiss, and Fergus had found himself returning it, wondering and wanting. He placed the glass ashtray on the bar in between them before leaning forward, resting his elbows against it as he lit his own smoke, lifting his eyes back to the other man.

"Nice," He commented, a small curve appearing at the corner of his mouth. He could do with a distraction; with Iago out and the attacks appearing closer to home each day there was little more Fergus would like than to lose himself with a stranger. When that stranger came packaged with blue eyes, blonde hair and the smell of salt and cigarettes he couldn't help but hope. "Good bike, too." Adding the last statement after a short pause, Fergus once again sought out the stranger's eye. He was flirting, or at least intended to. It might have seemed a strange thing for the rough-and-tumble looking man but he was not above communicating to get what he wanted. With Warren it had only taken a look. Sex with his Beta had been purely to sate need, though, and nothing else. There was no talking, no courtship, no spending time together afterward. It was as sterile as a business transaction with little regard for life's rituals. Neither of them wanted there to be, though. When their eyes met in such a way it was never in hope for anything more than a fuck, a way for Fergus to drive his dominance home. Outside of that, however, Fergus was a supporter of rituals and the dance to convince a stranger to bed was just as important to him as the routine one might make first thing in the morning or last thing at night. It was entertaining at worst and could be thrilling at best.

"What about you? Do you ride?"

"Not recently, mate, not bikes anyway." Fergus sucked on his cigarette, exhaling a large stream of smoke from a small gap between his lips. "I've been more of a truck man lately. Got my Ram out back, it does well for all the hunting and fishing gear. We get a lot of bikes through here, though, naturally."

Dropping his hand down he tapped his cigarette, watching the ash fall from the tip. "I do have an old Bonneville out back too, but it ah, needs a bit of work done before I could ride again. Just a matter of findin' the time, though. Runnin' this place takes up a lot more of it than I'd like." He chuckled slightly, straightening with cigarette hanging from his mouth. Eyeing the younger man he reached forward with his right hand to offer a shake and proper greeting, flashing an endearing, if slightly scruffy smile. "Name's Fergus, by the way. Welcome to town, or welcome back, I should say."

[Connor Haas]

Connor smiled at the compliment to his bike. He didn't take it seriously though not when it came from a man who looked like he appreciated a bike a bit more rugged and with better pedigree. In fact he rather hoped the attention he was getting had more to do with interest in him than in the machine he rode. He adjusted his position on the bar stool as he downplayed the bike, "It'll do in a pinch." He grinned, sitting back down, "Still nice to take a break after being on it for the day." He took a long drawl from the thick beer and decided that it was in fact doing a decent job of satiating his hunger in terms of food.

Con's eyes trailed up from the bar as he took in the older man once again. The man must work out. It would have been no surprise to to see a man built like he seemed to be behind the bar at a gay bar in Los Angeles or Sydney. If not for the biker scruff he'd have fit in there. Here in sleepy Hart unless things had changed drastically in the past few years he seemed like an anomaly. Connor laughed at the not recently comment and joked back, "As long as you're riding something hot." He could have been a touch more obvious with the use of another pronoun but he didn't think about it.

"Ram's got power." Connor expressed on the exhale and lowered his own cigarette linger over the ashtray near the other man's lit end. He met the other man's dark eyes and let them rest there for a moment longer than he needed to. "I bet you bet a lot of riders. Hope business doesn't keep you so busy that you can't steal away a little time for yourself."

He accepted the man's offer of friendship in greeting, "Pleased to meet you Fergus. I'm Connor." He shook back just firm enough to not appear too much of a pushover. He was a bottom usually but that didn't mean he couldn't shake like a man. Too many times a handshake was disappointing. This one wasn't. "Yeah, I missed some things about this place when I left so I decided to take a break from the Grand Prix circuit since I had a good year and indulge in other passions." He drank some more of his lager and took another drag of his cigarette. "I doubt all that much has changed. Sometimes it's nice to see where you've come from though."

[Fergus Bogan]

Fergus nodded his approval at Connor's handshake. It was strong, but not challenging. He liked that - there was nothing worse than reaching to take another mans hand and finding a limp fish instead. It was just as bad as having your hand almost crushed, or perhaps more accurately in Fergus's case, having someone attempt to crush it. Despite Connor's build being near perfect he would have to be another supernatural in order to make a mark on Fergus's tough hide. And of course to reveal oneself in such an agressive way would not be a particularly smart idea. No, aside from the curiously salted smell of him this young man seemed to be all that he appeared to be and little more. Fergus could not deny that he was extraodinarily taken by him though, if not only by his uncanny familiarity to the older wolf but for his obvious attractiveness and conversation laced with innuendo. Fergus had noticed Connor's comments and answered with his own, returned his lingering stares, not to mention detected and enjoyed the changes in his scent. Despite the bar being largely filled with the smell of cigarette smoke, food and cologne Fergus's nose was sensitive enough to detect the shift in the younger man's countenance as his interest rose. It was a heady mix and the lycan was more than ready to take a proper break, as it were. His mind had been taken up entirely by the attacks, his own investigations and keeping the Sheriff's Department happy that he had barely had any time to himself. Connor, if the younger man was as interested as he seemed to be, would be a great way to blow off some steam.

"Well mate, we get all sorts here but locals are always welcom." He smiled, nodding gently as he straightened to reach for a bottle of beer himself, twisting the non-twist cap off with ease and flicking it into the trash beneath the bar. "So long as you're old enough and ain't gonna do anything to put either of us in jail, that is." Fergus shot Connor a quick wink as he lifted the bottle to his lips, amused. Grateful for the cool liquid as it slipped down his throat, he took a long drink before placing it on the bar and following with a final puff on his cigarette, inhaling somewhat sharply and watching as he stubbed the remnants out in the ashtray before them. A few embers pressed into the calloused tips of his fingers painlessly. "I think that signals the start of my break," Catching Connor's eye, he held him in his hazel gaze for a few moments before stepping back and out from behind the bar, revealing the tight, black jeans which followed the lines of his thighs like a second skin. He'd owned the Levi's for a good decade - one of the rare pairs he'd managed to keep hold of without shredding. They were his favourite and though worn, greying at the knees they were probably his best pair. Held together with a thick black leather belt and with a plain black, loose tank on top he fitted the look of the bar, his dark hair falling in waves long past his shoulders, a few strands held back to stop it falling into his face while serving customers. Nodding at his bar manager - a well known signal that he'd be taking the rest of the night off. It wasn't like they needed him hanging around. He wouldn't be far away, regardless - perhaps a trip out to the shed, maybe his trailer afterward. It all depended on whether the blonde sitting at the bar would accept the invitation he intended to extend.

"Why don't you join me outside, Connor," Fergus leaned in behind him, his voice warm and rough as he reached past Connors shoulder to the bar to retrieve his beer, the bottle purposely left behind so that he could do the exact motion he executed now. He did not touch the other man but lingered close, speaking into his ear. "I'd sure like to see that ride of yours, and I think you'd like to see mine." Smirking to himself the Alpha pulled away, turning swiftly to exit the bar via the front door, the heels of his boots echoing on the wooden boards of the front verandah. Draining his beer he left the bottle on an outside table, the air cold enough not to attract anyone to sit outside. Keen eyes scanned the carpark, though he spotted Connor's bike by it's scent before anything visual drew his attention to it. Approaching the vehicle, his nostrils filled with salt and leather, oil and sweat Fergus ran his palm over the fuel tank and seat, admiring and inhaling as he waited to see if the other would follow. Upon sighting the blonde the corners of his mouth would curl into a small smile, and the Alpha would once again turn away, beginning to cross the graveled carpark. Raising his hand in a gesture over his shoulder for Connor to follow him around the back of the building, Fergus would not look back - he would know the younger man's vicinity by scent and sound alike as he walked swiftly toward his garage.