Logfile from Brass&Steel.

<OOC> Warren nods, "That's alright. I'm probably should get to bed in a
bit anyways."

It's one in the morning, and it's cold in Kaycee tonight. The folks that
seem to always swarm around the area are a bit subdued this night,
huddling into their coats and jackets ging wherever they are going,
waiting for taxis, cuddling up to each other and otherwise wishing for
warmer times. A big, yellow tow truck comes rolling up along the street
and after seeing that there are no free spaces - even at this hour - the
driver parks halfway onto the pavement and jumps out. He's carrying a
bottle and some rags.

	There is an ethereal air about this attractive man. A captivating
face, framed by an unkempt tussle of raven black hair, tapers gently to
the chin where early stubble marks the start of a goatee. Peeking out from
under his bangs are a pair of dark almond shaped eyes. He is shorter than
average in height, and his frame hinters just on the slender side of
average for it. Combined with a rakish charm and boyish good looks, he
appears to be younger than he probably is.

	A t-shirt with blue and white nautical stripes can be seen peeking
out from under a warm cableknit turtleneck sweater, occasionally frayed at
random seams, and he has on a pair of comfortably fitting blue denim jeans
with rolled up cuffs. On his feet are a pair of black slip on Timberland
shoes. Completing the ensemble is a black leather peacoat and a red
baseball cap, blazoned with an "A" in a halo for a logo, with the visor
turned to the left side.

Warren is just in the doorway of the Club Bluebird, engaged with and idle
chat it would appear with the bouncer. At the approach of the tow truck,
he pauses from his conversation to watch. Apparently he's waiting to see
if he should warn anybody inside the establishment of a pending removal of
their vehicle.

Warren just looked at you.

The pending removal is not going to happen to a car, but rather to
something on the tow truck it would seem. The tall dude strides to the
back of the truck, pours some of the stuff in the bottle over a rag and
starts to rub the number plate industriously. He's not looking too happy.
You might even say he looks decidedly UNhappy.

The bouncer yells out to the unhappy fellow, "Hey mac. Can't park there.
Why don'tcha pull yer rig up a block?"

Zach looks up and spots the bouncer. He grins ruefully and waves the rag.
"Sorry 'bout that Joey, but I won't stay long. Just need to get this damn
paint off my plates and I'll vamoose!" It seems they know each other.

<OOC> Zach is a regular at the Bluebird. :)

<OOC> Warren says, "Change 'mac' to 'zac' then. ;)"

Warren exchanges a few words with Joey, and then calls out to Zach,
"Somebody rear end you?"

Zach is carefully and efficiently rubbing and polishing the number plate.
Every milimiter of it, in fact. He lifts his head to answer, but keeps on
working. "Naw, some little bastard's been covering the number plate with
paint and smashed the rear lights."

Warren nods a bit in response, adding a somewhat dispassionately, "Should
find a better place to park it I suppose." Joey fidgits a bit restlessly,
before calling out, "Hey Zach, hate to be a hard ass, but you know the
cops are going to hassle us if they think we're letting people park like
that..." About this time however a space opens up on the street near the
club's door.

Rub, rub, rub, polish, grumble, rub... Zach straightens up and looks
critically at his work. "Good enough, I s'pose..." he mutters to himself.
"Yeah I hear ya, Joey. Relax.." He walks round and hops into the truck,
and then brings it around. It slips neatly into the slot and he hops put
again. Still carrying the bottle and the rags.  "Happy now, pal?" he calls
to Joey with a grin. "Who's yer friend?"

<OOC> Warren is a regular too, by the way.

It is now possible to see that the front plate has also been covered by
black paint.

<OOC> Zach says, "Ah, haven't seen you there before. <:)"

Joey says, "You two don't know each other? Warren, meet Zach. Zach, this
here's Warren." Warren nods his head towards the front plate. "Heya Zach.
Looks like you missed a spot."

Zach smiles and walks over to Warren and Joey, offering a handshake. "Hey
there Warren,you a regular at this joint too? I haven't missed that spot,
I just had to move the truck so that mister hard-ass bouncer over here
wouldn't throw a fit." He grins and winks to Joey, his mood obviously
brightening at the sight of a friendly face.

<OOC> Zach says, "...who isn't a damn car-wrecking hooligan! >:)"

Warren shakes Zach's hand in a friendly enough manner and shrugs a bit to
the question. "Well, it was nice meeting you Zach, but it's a bit chilly
out here. I'm going to head in..." he says, and then pauses a bit before
adding, "Um, if you want to join me, I'll be in there." He then flips a
nod to Joey who says, "Take care buddy..." as Warren starts to enter the
club.

<OOC> Zach says, "You heading for bed? :)"

<OOC> Warren says, "Up to you. You coming in?"

<OOC> Zach says, "In a bit. Zach needs to clean up the plate first, and I
have to work a bit. If you're tired, we can end it here."

<OOC> Warren nods, "Alright. I'll head in and hang around a bit before I
go. Join me if you want."

<OOC> Zach noddies. :)

Warren steps down into Club Bluebird.

<OOC> Warren thinks I'm going to head out now. I'll probably be on
tomorrow some time.