Hocus Pocus - (S&M Iron Works, New Orleans)

Owen watched Katherine from the corner of his eye. Occupied with his frank, he turned his head to observe the punk whose eyes were pouring over the attendant and his cart. Something about the way she lingered over the man's photo and name tag told the ex-Marine that she took in more than she let on.

As they walked, he simply nodded in answer to Katherine's assessment of his masculinity, mouth busy with his last bite. True to his evolving theory, Kat leaned in to whisper another observation regarding 'Reilly, I.' Eyeing the man himself, then Kat, he replied, "Not much gets by you, does it." Owen's pinky dipped passed his lips to pry something free. Heartburn was definitely on the menu thanks to this visit to Lucky's.

To Catbite's rhetorical question, Owen mechanically felt for the Colt 1911 in the shoulder holster beneath his blazer. No telling what or how many could be behind this door. Despite the pages and pages of journals he'd spent the night-into-morning reading, the ones that cautioned regarding zombies or witch doctors, Owen wasn't worried by the weak minded. On the other hand, fanatics were tangibly more dangerous than ghost stories.

"There's no such thing as demons," She'd read everything he had after all, but perhaps she was playing that sarcastic punk card, "And this is just your average house call... To the local S & M shop." Owen coughed into his fist, "He's probably really fat; I mean that Lucky cart looks like it's glued to the spot."

He turned a subtle smirk on the tiny white girl beside him.

< Prev : A Most Peculiar Child Next > : Can't Be That Bad - The Wayward