The western part of the city is often home to the poorer residents. Here there is a grunginess that permeates the town from the graffiti on the once cleaned brick buildings to the broken and unmaintained architecture. Crime runs high within the western half of town, making it the home of supernatural gangs of illicit activities. Such activities are rarely reported, however, and most residents are distrustful of individual's of authorities, and often let the powerful supernatural beings sort things out amongst themselves. Be careful wandering the Western streets after the sun falls.
Cull & Pistol
Just like any city - Sacrosanct is not without it's deep, dark underbelly. Hidden in the graffiti-ridden streets of the West, behind closed warehouse doors, lies the Black Market. Forever moving, it's nearly impossible to find without knowing someone who knows someone. Anything you desire can be brought for a hefty price within the Black Market - be it drugs, weapons, or lives.
Hidden within the dark alleyways of the Western Ward, Cull & Pistol is a dim, often smoky bar. With a small variety of bottled and craft beers, Cull & Pistol is a quaint little neighborhood joint. With its no-frills moto, the dingy bar offers little more than liquor, music from an old jukebox, and a few frequently occupied pool tables.
Resting upon the harbor, Noah's Ark (known simply as The Ark) is a sleek superyacht known both for its fight rings and recent...renovations, of sorts. Accessible from an entrance hidden in the shadows, The Ark is a veritable Were-playground that specializes in fighting tournaments for all creatures great and small. With both singles and doubles tournaments to compete in, the title of Ark Champion is hotly contested amongst the Were population. If anything illegal is going on in the city it's sure to be happening within the back rooms or behind the ring-side bar.
Note: This is a Were only establishment. All other species will be swiftly escorted out.
Home of: Nightshade
Owner Aiden Tetradore
Within the turbulent industrial district lies this club. The warehouse doesn't look like much on the outside but it provides a memorable experience from the state of the art lighting, offbeat Victorian-inspired artwork, comfortable black leather lounges, and the infamous 'black light' room. There is a wide variety of alcohol that lines the shelves of both of the magical and ordinary variety. It is a common stomping ground for the supernatural who want to let loose and dance the night away to the music that floods the establishment. Humans are most welcome if they dare.
Owner Risque Voth
I don't think I'll make it out alive
You know, there was something tickling the back of his mind that Spencer never thought to attribute to Miss Solarn in front of him: she could be incredibly - oh what was that pesky word he was looking for - attentive and considerate. Honestly, it was rather strange to have her be so... kind to him considering it often felt like she was circling him like a peacock trying to show off. Unfortunately, this flash of kindness was doing terrible things to his desire to desert. Fuck, why couldn't she be completely insufferable and irredeemable? He should charge her for his services just on principle of making himself feel better.
His frown deepened as Spencer stared at her reactions, her body language, her nerves displayed on her face. So strange to see an assassin with such emotion. His frown, if possible, deepened a little further at her reply to his comment. While she may feel that he could simply drift out the front doors, Spencer did not agree. In fact, he was quite sure it would attract more attention for him to flit out without his far too flashy 'wife'. Credit where credit was due, she knew how to attract attention when she so wanted it. Hell, he'd actually put money down sometimes she attracted it whether the attention was invited or not. While she was a migraine walking, the migraine hid it well with her looks. At least when she wasn't looking like she'd been freshly runover by the runaway train named 'I don't sleep enough and eat my addiction (whatever it may be) for meals'. Not that it was on Spencer to actually care if she took care of herself. No, these were just his observations from suffering through her games during their dealings. Maybe if he went through with this whole slipshod plan, she'd do him the favour and stop threatening to burn his store down.
Doubtful but let a man dream.
Wasn't that just the topping of the night though? Here he was, being drug into this whole charade of not only being married to her but actually lusting after her, yet the poor bastard still hadn't a damnedest inkling of her name. Probably would give any Shakespearian wannabe the time of their life to learn of this. Or a comedian. Does this mean he's moving up or down in the world? Is this an upgrade or downgrade from floormat to absolute fool? He really wasn't sure of anything anymore. Well, that's not entirely true. He was sure he was going to need a whole bottle of liquor when he got home.
You know, Spencer may have a few thoughts about her tactics to manipulate him to get him here because she didn't feel he was expendable. In fact, he may have many thoughts and feelings about how this is exactly what you do to someone you do think is expendable. The people you wanted to keep around? You leave them somewhere safe, follow their rules, and for the love of all that is holy or unholy or anything in-between, break into their house just because you can. That is his home, not yours, thank you very much.
As she clasped his hand, their gazes holding firm as she made her oddly sincere speech about all of that, he seemed to start to calm ever so slightly. Then came the part that completely captured his attention and now - fucking cat-curiosity-dead-whatever - Spencer knew he had no longer the option to leave. Oh no, he may want to, but he was going to be in this because that information was something entirely new. Something that wasn't being asked of her? There was an implication there, something that signalled his little assassin was not a freelancer that he had assumed. Oh no, there was a much more complicated story here. Did she know? Did she know what she was doing? Oh, this damned woman was now in the race to kill him. Well, she would have to line up as he was pretty sure he knew exactly who had first dibs but if she kept being a figure in his life, who knows.
He kept quiet despite all the turmoil racing through his mind, trying to process the new information yet remain on task. Despite how tempting it would be to lose himself to speculations, to the temptation to press for the attempt to glean just a little more information... now was not the time for it. No, they had to first get out of here. When he was home, he could begin speculating. For now, now he had to focus. Focus. As she came to the crucial point of asking for him that confirmation, that final confirmation they were in this... Well, what other choice did he have? As she tried to look around him, Spencer turned his head slightly as he took his own look around the room.
"Well, I can't risk losing my best paying customer," Spencer shrugged lightly, almost dismissively, before his eyes cut toward her as a little smirk crept over his mouth, "Though I may need to begin charging you an additional service fee..."
Looks like he was going along for the ride.
"Fine, let's get this done. I still need to collect my pay."