loup-garou

Nell Brandon. Owner of Bad Moon Brewery.

[lunarnells]

Location ➠ Le Nectar des Dieux Status ➠ Closed to Ignacio (@crownprincexofbees)

After reviewing the consensus from her army of taste-testers, as well as a good long look on her own time, Nell determined Bad Moon Brewery's menu was missing something.

They had ales, ciders, cocktails, one type of gin, lagers, several tequilas, vodkas, two types of whiskey, wine, even zero proof drinks, but what they didn't have—short of the kitchen sink—was mead. There were a few places in Lunar Cove she might go looking, but Nell was after the best, and where better than someone offering food of the gods?

At the barn, Nell knocked on the door, which stood open and unoccupied.

"Ignacio? Are you free?" Free to wheel and deal, she could only hope.

[lunarnells]

Location ➠ Bad Moon Brewery Status ➠ Closed to Cassandra (@waywardesouls)

It wasn't every day Nell saw a bar fight.

Still, it happened just often enough she'd developed a protocol. The first step, of course, was to untangle or subdue whoever was causing trouble (her job, with no bouncer on staff, let alone needed). Next was asking the assembly at large whether the troublemaker was going on the Wall of Shame, or in the Hall of Fame (always a crowd pleaser).

"Shame!" The patrons cheered as Nell readied the camera. "Shame, shame, shame!"

She snapped a Polaroid of the offending guest, and turned to the nearest person for the final ruling (never the same patron twice). "Cassandra," she declared with a smile, gesturing ceremoniously to one of her newest regulars. "Has the jury reached a verdict?"

[lunarnells]

Location ➠ Bad Moon Brewery Status ➠ Closed to Wei (@weijunxthorne)

Slow nights at the brewery were for number crunching, cleaning, or brainstorming.

Of the three, Nell preferred the last, yet nonetheless did all of the above as the hours wore on. The regulars were each in their long ago claimed seats, drinking their usuals and chatting with friends. Some of them knew more about the place than Nell, aside from an unfamiliar face at the corner of the bar. Jackpot, she thought, and made her way over.

"Hey," she greeted, looking the customer up and down. A tall drink of water if there ever was one, enough for Nell's brain to screech to a halt for a few seconds. "Let's make a deal, shall we?" She set the draft list in front of him, the sheet of paper encased in a forty-year old plastic stand rather than a card with a QR code. Not even Nell would budge on digital menus. "You sample these new IPAs, on the house, and when you start slurring and trying not to puke it all back up, I call an Awoober and get you home safe...what do you say?"

When opportunity knocked, Nell always answered the door.

[lunarnells]

Location ➠ The Broken Record Status ➠ Closed to Rae Elle (@earthwindandraen)

Ambience, Nell thought, it was all about the ambience.

Sort of.

For nearly a year, Nell and Harry were at loggerheads on the subject, and almost everything else. Harry, so old school that a tablet called to mind a pill rather than a learning tool, insisted the brewery was fine as it was—lock, stock, and barrel. Things were simple to his eye, trundling along as they always did, with any semblance of change making him wary. To him, the customers were an even simpler matter. Show up, sit, drink.

Easy.

Nell, meanwhile, gazed upon her surroundings and found flaws. That floor could give out. This part of the ceiling needed patching. That clog wasn't going to fix itself. And so on. Rather than let the wallpaper peel and yellow and eventually drive her to madness, Nell went out and found herself at the record store. Perfect. Something to do instead of holding the brewery up with her own two hands (or strangling Harry with those same two hands). She'd find something here to bring back, something to set things to rights, even in the smallest way. Reaching the aisles, Nell offered a salute as Rae came into sight.

"Got anything by the Hex Pistols? I'm in a battle of wills with a Boomer, and I'm losing."

[lunarnells]

Location ➠ Sun-Hee's beach house, Sunny Harbor Status ➠ Closed to Sun-Hee (@gazingatmestarry-eyed)

Inventory sucked.

In principle, it was useful. Worth it. Obligatory to run a business, and stay in business.

Still, Nell decided, circling through and around the same argument she'd been having with herself since the age of twelve and at last allowed to work, inventory sucked.

When an invite for a girls' night came, Nell was all too relieved to dock a few supplies from the count and show up bearing gifts. Balancing on one foot and nudging the door shut with the other, Nell hoisted the box higher on her hip and made her way down a familiar path through the beach house. "Special delivery," Nell announced, "for the Supreme."

[cantfightmoonlight]

@lunarcovestarters

Genevieve had hardly been paying the heat much mind, spending the morning the way she normally did- stress baking up a storm in time for the Pride festivities. But she had just put a tray of soufflés in the oven when the lights went out, and the visceral gasp that had been evoked from her lips had been palpable. "No," She huffed, taking a step back from her oven that thankfully had only turned off and hadn't short-circuited. Removing her apron, the baker stepped into the back room to check to make sure her wireless hair straightener in her bag was still fully charged, which thankfully it was. She wasn't about to summon the rain if she couldn't fix her hair afterward. Walking over to the umbrella stand at the front of the shop, she plucked out her pink umbrella and unfolded her matching pink wheelchair. She unfurled her wings and began to wheel her way outside, making it a few feet out into the heat before her eyes began to glow and rain clouds formed overhead. The rain instantly cooled down the few blocks around her. And now that she was sitting there, having shifted into a tail, she declared before turning to the nearest person to her side, "There. The heat is gone. Now, how long do we think it will take until the power turns back on, because I like had these soufflés in the oven and they've definitely gone flat by now."

[lunarnells]

Sirens! Caught under the shower as she crossed the street, Nell shook out her now drenched phone with irritation. There was no saving it. "Try a warning bell next time, Gigi."

At the question, Nell glanced in the direction of the shop. The Pie Hole was one of her favorite haunts in Sunny Harbor, but she doubted it would have a backup generator ready to kick on at a moment's notice. "Any minute, probably." Today didn't seem like a day for a town-wide blackout, but when had Nell ever gambled and won? Maybe once playing Keno. "Need some help with the soufflés? I can relight the pilot if you're using a gas oven."