[hr][centre][h2][color=7ea7d8]Harrison Oak[/color][/h2][hr]Date: 1st of August 2017
Location: The Musketeers Bar – Manhattan, NYC
Time: 2100
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Oak slowly waddled along the relatively quiet New York Streets, his eyes periodically flicking between the path ahead and the map displayed on his phone. On more than one occasion his multitasking caused him to bump into another bystander or cross clumsily into someone’s way. [i]What a tourist[/i]. He thanked the gods of technology though, for without google maps there was no way that he would have found that bar. 

“The Musketeers” he exhaled with relief as he finally set his eyes on the place. He doubled checked the photos that Melisa, his target, had posted the night before and confirmed that he was indeed at the right venue. The place had a more traditional style, and almost reminded him of the pubs he was used. A wall sign with three crossed swords hung suspended off the wall just by the unmonitored front-door. The windows were mostly obscured by royal blue curtains, a typical way of hiding how quiet a place could be (though it did not take much effort to gaze through if one really wanted to). Walking inside Oak found the place relatively empty, with at most a dozen patrons. Perhaps not surprising considering it was a Tuesday night, but at least it meant it would be easier to survey. 

“Could I get a pint of stella please?” Oak asked the bored looking barman as he took a seat on one of the many tall wooden stools lining the marble bar. A row of taps sat before him, mostly advertising beers and ales that he was unfamiliar with. 

The barman, a lanky looking hipster with ironically large glasses and a man-bun, raised an eyebrow in response to the request and he sluggishly dragged himself over. “Sorry, we don’t sell [i]that[/i].” 

“Erm… Could I get a bud then?” Oak replied, trying to think of the most ‘American Beer’ he knew of. The bartender clearly didn’t like that brand either and rolled his eyes in response before typing the order onto the till and turning around the car machine for his customer. [i]What a dick[/i]. 

Once he got his drink, Oak didn’t bother trying to make conversation and instead found himself a quiet corner to sit in whilst he logged onto the bar’s wifi and carried on his digital stalking. Looking over the profiles of Melisa’s new friends, it was obvious that this place was a regular drinking hole for them. It seemed unlikely that they would just happen to come in tonight, especially having been here the night before, but until any the persons of interest posted anything fresher, waiting around the bar was the best course of action. He’d just have to sit and wait. 

[centre][hr]Date: 2nd of August 2017
Location: Streets of Manhattan, NYC
Time: 0145
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[i]You know what’s not fun? Slowly nursing five bottles of bud over a four hour period in a dead-bar with no company.[/i] 

Oak futilely rubbed his darkened eyes in an attempt to rid himself of his tiredness – and for a moment it seemed to work, before a long yawn seemed to throw him back into sleepiness. He could not sit here any longer, and the place would be closing soon anyway. He had wasted the night, and although it wasn’t like he had anything else better to do, he could not help but feel disappointed. He took a big breath before standing, allowing him to accidentally get a waft of body odour from another nearby patron. He grimaced slightly and headed for the door, his hands already reaching for his pack of cigarettes.  

His leads might not have shown up that night, but he knew it was likely they would eventually. It was a bit of solace at least. Oak was not so prepared to spend his nights there though, but fortunately for him he would not need to. Having left the premise, Oak wandered over to one of the windows and placed his hand flat against it for a few seconds. The dark eye mark on a transparent surface like this would let him get a good view of both the inside and outside of the bar, so he could observe from elsewhere. 

With that done he lent back against the wall and placed a cigarette in his mouth. He looked around with a hint of caution before using his pyromancy, but there wasn’t a great deal of footfall – at least not on his side of the street. There was a girl in multi-coloured clothing sitting on a bench opposite, but Oak doubted she would notice anything from where she was. It only took a light pinch between his index finger and his thumb (and some concentration of course) for a small spark to set alight the dried paper, and in moments he was inhaling sweet toxins. Wisps of grey rose in front of his eyes as he enjoyed the first toke. Satisfied, he then began the long walk back to his accommodation.