The Dancing Kunoichi Teahouse

[T BaZil]

Hi there... umm, I'm Coca Feudala, co-owner of
the Dancing Kunoichi teahouse. My sister, Belvedere, is
the other owner. I'd tell you more of myself but I prefer
if you knew more about my establishment first.

At the Dancing Kunoichi, we serve Chinese, Japanese
and Korean food. And spring rolls thanks to the Filipinos.
We also serve home made teas, fruit juices, sake and
wines. Water and milk as well but people hardly come
for all that.

I don't like to seem like a mean guy with a bunch of rules
so we have but a few and the foundation of them is
Respect: for me, my sister, our establishment and other customers...

-There is no nudity in the teahouse. With that, no sex
either. I will not ask twice.
-There is no fighting in the teahouse. No questions asked.
-Keep your voices from a minimum to a medium.
Shouting is not okay.
-Please respect your fellow customer. Theft, sexual
harassment, discrimination, rudeness are not permited.

Thank you,
Coca

 

[[-Erik-]]

No nudity in here, eh? Let's see how this turns out.

In the mean time, I'd like some... chinese rice and some breaded shrimps. Please and thanks!  

[T BaZil]

Seeing the new comer and hearing his requests, Coca wasn't all too
thrilled with the gent, already. There hadn't been any pleasant tones of
greetings or else a more bracing introduction. The man had went right into what
he wanted. But, just like with any other patron, Coca took his time from the
counter to the kitchen where the food was prepared.

The tea house had been more than just a hole-in-the-wall place for food and
refreshments. Walls were painted the designs of a deep and, seemingly,
mystified thicket of bamboos. There were also real bamboo plants here
and there around the sitting area. From two corners of the room burned incense
of China Rain. Tables were place all around on either side of a path that lead
from the entrance door to the counter, which sat at the end of the arrangements
of said tables. They were lower to the floor than normal tables were and weren't
surrounded by chairs but thick, sitting pillows.

The counter, however, was of regular size. Before it were a few stools since,
behind the counter also sat a bar. And behind the wall of wines and sakes,
all home made, was the kitchen where the gent's order was prepared and
brought back out. It was all in those to-go containers which signaled that
Coca was hoping he'd be leaving afterwards. Both containers were put in a
paper bag along with a pair of chop sticks.

"That will be four-fifty, sir..." his drunken slur let out, eyes glazed
from the booze and his breath carrying an almost putrid smell. And yet, he did
well enough with cooking, keeping things clean and never had a complaint for it.
It seemed he was very experienced with working while drunk.  

[[-Erik-]]

He gave a perplexed look at the seemingly drunken waiter, but he decided to keep his opinions to himself, after all the food looked edible and smelled just as good as it looked, and since he was hungry he decided not to criticize the quality of service, despite the smell of booze in the air emanating from the counter.

"Very well, here you go". He placed six dollars in front of the man serving him. "Keep the change, buy yourself some bubblegum, mint-flavored preferably". He hilariously smirked.  

[T BaZil]

Glaze-eyed, Coca gave the man a bored look when he reference the
bubble gum and scent in which he thought would be best suited for the drunk.
Like that would ever happen. Despite the alcoholic stink, Coca was just fine...
or, he considered himself to be just fine. Never a problem walking around
or issues with motor skills. One would think he was drunk all the time. And
he was. Patrons seemed to be use to it and, instead of pocketing
the change, what would be left over was dropped into a golden shrine that
sat on the counter beside the register. Wear one might've imagined Buddha
to be, instead was a statue of a tubby, panda anthro. It was a woman instead
of a man. Her stomach was large, she had pierced ears and wore ceremonial
clothes that represented the culture of his people. The money change was
dropped into the small tank of glass that shielded her... along with other
tips that the tea house had received.

With the man served and Pundha given tribute of wealth, Coca grabbed
himself another bottle of sake. When it was opened, the smell that came
from it was as purtrid as his breath. Strong and nasty. Anyone who wasn't
from the tribes he came from would become nauscious with a good enough
smell of it. Drinking it would give them definite, alcohol poisoning if it didn't
kill them. And it wasn't because of its strong brew that it was deadly to
those not use to it. It was the contents that went into the mixture
that made it so. Sitting down in his seat behind the counter, the mouth of
the bottle met his and four, nice gulp had along with and belch that spewed
a bit of fire.

"H've'a goo'day sir. 'joy your food.."  

[[-Erik-]]

The smirk on the man's face became a grin as he turned his face away from the drinking waiter and looked down onto his food. It looked great, but all his attention was set onto the tipsy waiter.

"It's incredible how he can keep his posture with such high levels of alcohol", he though, "Now where's my fork...?"

He gave the counter a quick peek to see if it was anywhere near, all he saw was the Pundha statue sitting next to the registrer and a few salt shakers scattered all over.
"Perhaps I'm supposed to use chopsticks..."
Upon noticing chopsticks were not included with his meal, he tried to get the the waiter's attention, but he feared he'd be too busy with his sake to notice the waving of his hand. He decided there was no choice but to personally speak with him, but to do that he'd have to get close to him. He took a deep breath to avoid the nauseous scent of the alcohol in the air pestering the surroundings of the waiter.

"Ain't that a strong beverage." he said to himself as he placed himself next to the waiter.

"Eh, excuse me..." he waited for a response.  

[T BaZil]

"Err-a... nothin' too stron' 'bout it! Now that I thin' 'bout it... it ain' stron' 'nough!"

Deep browns peer over at the other as if a tad intrigued by the question. But then,
as his statement carried on, eyes looked at the bottle that was now held above
his own eye level, by his own hand. The look he gave was a frown of disappointment.
As if the bottle of liquor had told him a bland and obvious lie. The nerve of it! If only
he had the patience to find time to brew up something better. All of the ingredients
were there and all of his brewing tools waited for him back in that kitchen.

But the gent's original complaint had finally dawned on him and that frown trailed
back over to the man's face. The disappointment was replaced with a look that
said "I refuse to be lied to, again". As if the man and that bottle of numbing yummies
had began to conspire against the panda. Then he spoke, point one of those black
index fingers at the paper bag.

"There'sa pair of chop sticks in 'ere! Was the last thing I put in it"

((refer to the bottom of the 3rd paragraph of my first response to your post confused ))  

[Guaif]

A young hybrid stood in the entrance of The Dancing Kunoichi Tea House with a rather upset look on his face. But it quickly vanished, it seemed he was still deciding on whether to fully enter the establishment or not. It took only a minute or two before he made his way to a table.
His thick black army boots made a thud sound as he walked, a tightly conformed sleeveless shirt did little to keep his fluff from escaping where ever it could. But unlike his fitted shirt, his pants where big and baggy green denim. Placing a and on the floor he sat atop one of the pillows, which he found quite comfortable, but did little to take away from his troubled thoughts. Although he was hoping they had a cure for what ale'd him. His white mane wafted with the slight breeze that carried the smell of china rain.
His crimson eyes peered about the room, a slight tension hung in the air like a stale corpse. Not sure if he should call for some service aloud or wait to be served. He chose the later and remained silent, his fluffy tail casually shifted from side to side, his tongue eagerly anticipating that of which to come.

 

[DieF1228]

A young wolf, about 17, enters the tea house with a look of aggravation on his face. He is very small in stature, but his posture and demeanor sends out a sense of pure, untainted wisdom. He dodges through a crowd of customers as though it were one person, stopping at random to ask, "Díaš-né fêr-na'á Fæčíena?" (Translation: "Does anyone speak Faeician?"). He sighs, then converting to English and mumbling to himself, "Of course not...How can one speak my language if not even I know it's full meaning? What is this curse...?" He takes a seat at an empty table, taking care not to sit near too many people. He then pulls out a notebook and a pen, and begins scribbling notes furiously.  

[darkangelicneko]

The young long-hair neko strolls into the tea house and quietly takes a seat while waiting for service. Her first time in here or as apart of the guild she looks around for a friendly someone.