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Guy sat alone in his booth, penniless and pitiful. His mother had died and the bank had taken his house in exchange for all the medical bills her sickness had accumulated. A suit case stood next to the booth. Inside was three or four pair of cloths, and a few pictures in frames. He was fairly well dressed for a man with nothing, if you could even call him a man. Twenty years old, with no place to stay tonight. He was still employed as a police photographer, but he was practically homeless.

"What the hell am I gonna do..." He said staring at the glass bottle in front of him. Coca-cola... If anyone is the Windy City deserved a real drink it was him. Damn prohibition had taken it's 'toll' on many people, most bar tenders. But some still sold alcohol and cops were being bribed all over Chicago. He had a friend in the mob, maybe he could get since set up with them. He chuckled, he wasn't gangster material. He took a sip of his soda pop, "it's going to be a long night."

For a Thursday night the streets were pretty busy, it was approaching midnight. He would stay here until the bar closed around two, but then he'd be forced to find a nice city corner to sleep on... It was nearly zero out, no snow, but cold as hell for a late February night. "February 27th, 1929, Mr. William's becomes homeless," he finished his Coke and pushed it away. It was all he could afford, and it didn't even have the liquor sting he craved. What a messed up world he lived in...

Kahli was chilly and hating every second of it. She had just managed to squeeze an older wealthy couple out of enough to cover her expenses for the next month, so on top of being chilled to the bone, she was tired. Four batches of fake revitalizing potions, along with the act she had to keep up – She was still young, but this life was getting the best of her.
As she walked, she wrapped her arms around herself and wished her jacket would keep her a bit warmer. Maybe before she found a place to crash, she would grab herself something to drink. A small smile played at her lips as she thought about how much she missed boozing it up, and the money she had made before these stupid laws came into effect. Life had been good.
The first spot she saw open, she walked in. A quaint little place, not nearly as busy as she would have expected. She took a seat at the counter and pulled her wallet out, before patiently waiting for someone to bring something to wet her whistle with.

Taking out his wallet he peered inside, $5... For the 1920's it was actually a good amount of cash, but it was all he had been given to settle his apartment for his mothers medical bills. He had expected at least a hundred so this sight reminded him of how depressing it was to receive the money. In actuality he had been given $15 but he had some other debts with the bank so they just took it out of that. "Can I get some change for this?" He asked the waitress, she nodded and left. She returned and handed him his change.

A nickel for a coke wasn't a bad price, but a beer would have been a dime, and a scotch would have been a quarter. Those kind of drinks would have made the spendature worth while. He pocketed a woman enter the bar, she looked familiar but he couldn't place it. The waitress asked if she could get him anything else, he knew she would kick him out if he said no. "Another coke," he said hesitating, he didn't have the money to keep buying cokes but it was only fifteen after twelve and he didn't want to go out into the cold yet.

(Edit: ..so sorry. I missed the date of the last post. Oops... Can't delete this either)

Kifu strolled down by the street, heading to the bar.
He had finally gotten a break from school, and he had an hour, so he could relax for a bit.

When he entered the bar, he couldn't see a spot without someone in front of him.
Da**. ****. ** ****, he didn't want to sit by drunks. They'd maybe even abuse him for being japanese.

He noticed a sober man with a coca cola bottle.
He walked up to him.

"Exuse me.., could I sit ..here? I don't want to sit by drunks.. ..Do y..you understand what I mean.?"
His eyes turned down to the table while his thoughts went;
stupid, stupid, stupid!

"Drunks?" Guy chuckled as he looked up at the regulars, no one was drunk here. They were just depressed or loud, sobriety was a plague. "This isn't a speakeasy... Owners don't have alcohol because of prohibition." Where had this guy been the last decade? And what was that funny accent on his voice, Asian of some sort. Guy wasn't racist though, despite everything he had been through it was Americans that let him down, not Asians or Africans, Irish or Polish. Just everyday Americans.

"But you can sit if you'll buy me another coke," he showed his empty bottle as if it was a gold metal of the evening. In all seriousness Guy was lonely, homeless, jobless and his mother just died. He gestured for the man to sit in the booth across from him. He eyed his luggage before looking back at the man, "what's your name friend?"

"..oh." Kifu looked around.
"Uh, sure, I could buy you one."
He walked up to the front desk and ordered two coke, one for the man and one for himself.
He returned to the table, sat down, and handed the man his coke.
"I'm Kifu", he said,
"What about your name?"

"I'm Guy," he tried to smile at the younger guy threw his inner pain. Taking a sip of sugary syrup through his newly acquired glass bottle. "Guy Willaims..." He put his coke on the table, "are you new to Chicago? Or America for that matter??" He chuckled, the boy seemed to be struggling with his English a bit, probably felt the full brunt of racist comments and hatred. At least Guy was an "acceptable" race or his problems would only be worse.

(ooc: double post as lag result)

"Yes, I just got around a few weeks ago. I've been ..studying english for quite a while now."
Kifu was a bit worried however this man had judged him so far.

He drank some coke, and glanced toward the open bar door. He cursed inside of his head; the trouble visible on his face.
"Well, Guy, I need to go."

He stepped out of the bar in hurry.

The hour break he had from school wasn't over yet. He had only taken one sip of the coke, which he had left on the table.

"Oh..." Guy watched the boy leave in a hurry and then the door of the bar shit behind him. "Thanks for the drink Kifu." He was alone again, just him, his coke, and his suitcase. He was wondering more about the man but he never got the chance to ask him anything else. Oh well.