Spring Break - A Bar in Amsterdam - Wednesday Evening

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Our intrepid tourists follow their lead to Amsterdam.





"This is getting pointless," Warren complained, sliding into a seat at
the bar where he'd agreed to meet everyone. They'd been hunting
through Amsterdam for two days now, attempting to follow the slim lead
that the circus folk had provided them in Luxumbourg. "I'm pretty
certain that that woman had no idea what she was talking about. And
I've pretty much exhausted all my contacts." All... two of them. Which
had not been helpful whatsoever.

"She knew", Kurt said with certainty. "If she did not, or if she did
not wish to tell us, she would have said so straight out."

"And that was so incredibly helpful of her," Monet muttered, her head
resting on her folded arms.

"So, should we try to find a party like before? See if she's hunting
up a new pretty-boy target?" Tabs was really at a loss and pulling
things out of her ass at that point.

"It's not a bad idea," Warren mused. He could try his contacts again,
see if they knew about any parties happening. There had to be
something, this was Amsterdam.

"But not something you can do tonight." Troy had stayed with them -
obstensibly to check on a job offer in the area, and to offer his own
contacts, but considering how close he'd stuck to Tabitha the entire
time, it was pretty obvious to all it was a fairly flimsy excuse. He'd
settled himself in next to her, a hand on the back on her chair. She'd
continued to keep him at arm's lengths, but he was sure he could wear
her down. It was taking him longer than he'd expected, and it just
intrigued him all the more.

"Why not take a break? We've - sorry, you've all been working your
asses off for the past few days trying to find this lady, maybe you'll
have more luck if you just relax. Enjoy what Amsterdam has to offer.
You can start afresh tomorrow."

"I don't know." Warren was hesistant. On the one hand, it was an
extremely tempting idea. Just to kick back and forget for an evening
that a potentially unscrupulous woman had photos of him with his wings
on display. Pretend that maybe it wasn't a bad thing they get
published. And Amsterdam was known for it's night life.

"Your thoughts?" He looked at Kurt and Monet.

"Well, since it's a little late to go back to that bloody woman and
have Tabitha stick bombs in her face while I go all telepathy on her
to find out exactly what she knows-- It is too late, right, Kurt?
Sure. Why not?" Monet sat up again and smiled slightly. "What do you
think, gorgeous?" she asked, leaning against Kurt's side.

Kurt smiled down at her and nodded. "It does seem we have exhausted
all the options for tonight. And who knows, if we choose the right
party, something may even present itself to us."

"It's settled then," Troy said with a grin, his gaze mostly on
Tabitha, who wasn't arguing either. "May I make a suggestion or two
about the menu here?"

* * * * *

A few hours later, and the group was feeling very... mellow. They'd
moved on from their original location, and the tension from earlier
had all but dissipated. They were strolling down a surprisingly quiet
street, Troy with his arm around Tabitha's shoulders, and Warren
walking between them and Kurt and Monet. His hands were shoved into
his pockets, and he'd turned somewhat introspective.

"I hadn't actually noticed this place was so pretty."

"Mmm," Monet said, agreeing quietly. "And everyone or at least almost
everyone, is sort of content. Or sleeping They've got relaxing minds."
She was still making an effort to block out the minds of her
companions but she was stoned and mellow enough to not worry about the
other minds they passed on the street and in surrounding buildings:
her telepathy had been blunted enough that they were just vague
presences, far quieter than they would be otherwise.

"Tourists rarely get to see the best parts of a place," Troy muttered
himself. "Too busy seeing all the famous landmarks and what not."

"I like to see the people," Tabitha said quietly. "What they do, how
they live. People are awesome."

Kurt nodded. "The local people do tend to be more interesting, and
those landmarks are always overpriced. Do you have any suggestions,
Troy?"

"I know a few places," Troy admitted, his mind more on slowly moving
his fingers over Tabitha's shoulder and down her arm. It was slow
work, given that he was trying to manage it in a manner that didn't
make Tabitha freeze up or flinch or pull away. "Sandy and I found this
great bar hidden around a corner and in a basement that has the most
amazing cocktail list." It hadn't occurred to him that he should not
have, perhaps, mentioned Sandy - later he'd blame it on the pot
brownies he'd consumed with the rest of them, but truthfully it was
because his mind was more on Tabitha than it was anything else.

There was a few moments of silence from Warren before the statement
clicked properly in his head. A shot of adrenaline cleared the last of
the pot haze from his mind, his metabolism having burnt through it
fairly quickly. He moved quickly to stand in front of Troy, blocking
his path, wings straining against his harness as he instinctively went
to flare them out.

"Sandy?" Warren's voice was incredulous. "You know her?"

Tabitha stiffened, eyes on Warren. Her mind tried to process the
situation. "She's the woman we've been looking for." The pieces
clicked together. She moved more quickly than one would have
anticipated, straddling Troy, hand gently on his throat. "What's this
about Sandy?" she asked softly.

"I --" Troy blinked a couple of times, trying to catch up with the way
the conversation had turned. What had he... Oh. Shit.

"She - I - okay, so I do kind of know her. I mean, more than just
seeing her at parties." Troy was hedging, trying to figure out exactly
how to play this. He wasn't the one who usually spent this much time
with their marks - honest truth, he should have ditched this group on
Rome after he'd given them the circus tip. Sandy would likely kick him
for being such an idiot, but the very pretty lady who was currently
being very scary right in his face had been very distracting. And she
hadn't even let him kiss her.

"How well do you know her?" Warren demanded. "Are you able to contact
her?" All this running around, and this asshole possibly had the
information they needed. Fucking hell.

"... I can probably get you a location," Troy admitted, looking
straight at Tabitha. "If you let go of my throat."

"How about you tell us before Tabitha explains that actually, you're
standing on the equivalent to half a kilo of C4 and, you know, we're a
bit cranky right now, what with the way you've been so unhelpful up
until now and all. You think about that and then think about what
you're willing to tell us, before I tear it out of your mind bit by
bit, okay?" Monet wondered if she was laying it on a little thick but,
ugh, she'd never liked Amsterdam all that much and honestly, Troy was
kind of a creep.

Troy swallowed hard, his eyes darting over to Monet before looking
back at Tabitha. This was way way above his usual level of comfort.
And he was starting to think that maybe Sandy had seriously
underestimated her target this time.

"I need to make a phone call," he croaked out. "I'll get you her exact
location, I promise. You can... do whatever you do if you don't
believe me." And it was true, he had no intentions of lying to them
any more. Largely because he was kicking himself for fucking this up,
mostly because he knew it had ruined his chances with Tabitha.

Kurt had been sitting quietly until now, considering, and he glanced
around at his friends. "Make your call - Meltdown let him reach his
phone - but you do it here where we can hear every word you say."

"Whatever you say," Troy replied, slowly reaching into his pocket for
his phone and drawing it out. He showed them all what it was before he
made his call, his gaze finally dropping from Tabitha's as he waited
for Sandy to answer.

The conversation that followed was in rapid fire Spanish, Troy
attempting to switch to English a couple of times, apologetic glances
sent to the others as he failed. Finally he hung up, sliding the phone
back into his pocket.

"She's in Monte Carlo. I swear to God or whoever, I'm telling you the truth."

Warren glanced at Monet.

"Monet?"

She nodded. "He's not lying. I mean, she might be, but he's not. And
not all that happy."

Later, she would totally blame the brownies. Warren and Vanessa would
get their fair share of blame as well. She patted Troy on the cheek.
Then kissed him.

"Good boy," she said as they left.