Given the option, when visiting the Iron Band, Amp would always choose to sit by the window. For one thing it kept her near the door, and the kind of crowd the Band attracted made her feel a lot more comfortable in such a spot; fights were rare, and there were precautions, but this was a place largely frequented by the heavy hitters, and so you wanted to be on guard. She could take any of them, but she would rather not have to.This table also happened to be right under the speakers. Listening to music from too far away felt about like trying to drink the last of a milkshake through a straw, and even if this was the canned stuff rather than live, she'd still prefer a steady flow while she took it in. There was a glass in front of her full of clear brown liquid, which was not ideal, but she needed to buy something to sit in here and the new kid on bar couldn't figure out how to ring up ambient noise. Worry about what to do with it later. It would be a shame to waste good whiskey, on principle.
She turned up the collar of her long black coat, and watched the room, and thought. Some interesting stories lately from people who knew. Stories about a man made of blue crystal, probably one of those hunters underneath judging by the descriptions people gave, who moved in rarefied circles and spoke like a man of the old school. Amp was not personally acquainted with said old school, and was not entirely sure it meant anything, but one of her informants had used those words and they'd stuck in her brain.
Whatever that part was about, people generally seemed to agree on the guy's name and appearance, and also that he gave off a damned strong magic signature even to the uninitiated, which even Amp didn't do. Something weird about that. But all of it was pretty weird, because this guy, this Xavier Henshaw, had appeared out of nowhere, and everyone was talking about him but no one actually knew him. That kind of thing got Amp's back up. It reminded her of old fights, old enemies.
She had to find some way to get an introduction, figure it all out, but so far that had proven impossible. Not just because she was a mere mortal, financially speaking—she had friends who ranked higher in terms of social class and who could get her into all kinds of events. For the most part it was that she couldn't bear to play rich for a whole evening, and in order to get close to Henshaw she'd have to. She needed another plan.
Ah, the Iron Band. For a bar, it was fairly pleasant, and though the patrons were of a more dangerous sort, they were also wary of Xavier. His presence was fairly large, so his worst interactions here tended to be caused by the more inexperienced, and he was generally able to intimidate or subdue them despite his own... lack of aptitude. He could feel more comfortable here than many other places, and so he frequented it more than some of the other more reputable locales. Also, they made an excellent dry martini.
