World Tree MUSH

     The Cantaloupe Club was just one of many tourist friendly speakeasies in the city of Chicago. It was a place where you could get that feel for the city without actually diving into the more seedy underbelly, sure the place looked the part of your mobster hangout, but judging by the motley crew of folks in all different manner of outfits and styles from all sorts of different branches there aint exactly many locals that frequent the Cantaloupe Club. 

     It's a place hidden in plain site the only marker that it's even there the young man out front calling out the existence of this little place hidden behind the plain wooden door, unmarked save for a melon shaped door handle. 

     It wasn't uncommon for newcomers to this blossom to be directed right to the Cantaloupe Club for that 'genuine Chicago experience' even if there was very little genuine about it. Sure it's got the bouncers with the massive shoulder pads, and memorabilia hung on the walls, but it aint exactly the most exclusive of places. 

     At the moment it's happy hour, and unlike most times there are some actual locals come here for the half priced booze. Yet one look at the menu would tell people right away it's not aimed at said locals. The drinks list is from all over the tree, with very little actual local flavor, everything hand picked to make the tourists feel at home on the vine, and of course with the notoriously harsh import laws it's not hard to tell none of it's being sold legally. 

     Out from the back room a man walks dressed in the finest pinstripe suit and tie the massive shoulder pads doing a good job of making him look even more imposing than he already does. A muscular man with everything but his pearly white smile and chin hidden beneath the shade of a very wide brimmed hat that hides his features well. 

     A cigar sticks out from the corner of his mouth as he tucks a bit of cash away for safe keeping. The shadowy figure walking out into the bar smiling away to the various tourists. The moment he's out there he's all sorts of friendly making jokes and cracking wise.

    Duncan figured that, if he's going to be exploring other worlds, he probably had better not go in looking like something that crawled out of the depths of some hellish void in the earth. So, upon reflection of that, he's left the sword and armor at home. Right now he's dressed in black, in an outfit of long-sleeved shirt, trousers, and boots -- common enough that it won't be seen as weird, and dark enough that its archaic make would be easily overlooked.

    He is, in fact, one of those definitely-not-locals, and he is drinking something that is definitely not local. It's something he's heard of, at least, and it's not too terrible. He's also notable in that he has a guitar case perched on the ground next to his chair. He doesn't look like an entertainer, to note.

    When the man walks out from the back of the place, Duncan looks up, and offers a nod of greeting should he pass near enough to where he's sitting. He's more or less keeping to himself here, but that doesn't mean he can be rude.

     That smile is the first thing of note on that hat wearing man's face. Benito's smile goes wide that sort of almost sparkling white grin that shows full of perfect teeth. The chiseled chin works well with the cigar chomped between his grinders. 

     As Duncan offers a wave the hat comes off from Benito. A Clint Eastwood in his prime with perfectly slicked down hair that doesn't even begin to look like it was just under a hat, just that slight bit of stubble on his face as he sets the hat down. His voice is a bit gravely with that Italian accent. He speaks with a smooth sort of confidence about him. 

     "How's the drinks?" Asked with that same smile as he grabs the complimentary matchbox from the table and strikes up a light. Hands cup to his mouth allowing him a moment to just enjoy the smooth relaxing drag of a nice Cuban cigar. "These fine folks making sure you get the full Chicago experience?" A friendly look over to the flapper girl waitress as she smiles right back a fluttering of those fake eyelashes before she moves over to offer cigarettes to a few of the patrons.

    By contrast, Duncan is much more subdued, his face near-unreadable, but not in a particularly unpleasant way. He doesn't really look terribly frightening or unapproachable. At least, not without his armor. That was kind of the purpose of leaving it.

    As the tall fellow in the strange suit nears, Duncan looks up. And the first question gets a reply! "Not too terribly bad," Duncan offers. Of course he pauses to greet the flapper lady with a polite nod as well. "I'm not certain exactly what 'the full Chicago experience' is, truthfully," he admits, to the second question. "Though if you mean have I been treated well -- yes, so far."

     "Of course that's what I meant friend." Benito pats Duncan on the back once clasping his hand on the shoulder for but a brief moment. "This little business prides itself on a welcoming atmosphere for tourists and locals." 

     A few of the locals crack smiles on their faces as they quietly set about enjoying their rather simple unmixed drinks. None of the locals seem to care too much for the foreign fair, all sticking to classics. 

     "You passing through or planning to stay a while?" He adds making a bit of small talk while puffing away on that well aged cigar. Unlike even some of the locals he doesn't, at a glance anyway, look to have any foreign goods on him. Which is strange because even a number of the locals have things like digital watches or wrist watches that stand out of place for the native era of this place. 

     There's even one or two people who've got Pokemon setting on their shoulders. A clear sign that this whole hard ban on non-essential imports and exports isn't exactly working how it's supposed to. Especially when a Sunkern hops up onto the bar to slide new drinks over to replace old.

    Duncan nods. "If that is what you meant, then yes, I have been treated well thus far," Duncan confirms. His speech alone is probably enough to note that he's not a local. And to tell a little more of where he's from -- probably a place that would be considered this world's past, of close to it -- given the... perhaps more archaic slant to his speech.

    As for the question of how long his stay? "I'm only passing through." He says this in a way that is meant to reassure, as though to assure him that he's not going to be there for long. Duncan is, of course, used to people not wanting him around.

    As he notes this, though, he offers, "In fact, I should be on my way now. It will be too late to travel if I wait much longer. I assume traveling in the dark is also dangerous in this world as well." He offers a small, subdued smile. "But thank you for the hospitality."