Fred and Gene stumbled over Harold who’d almost fallen into the door while singing some Irish drinking song at the top of his lungs.

Deviation waited until they went inside, staring at the building’s facade. There that feeling was again. Tickling the back of her neck like the thin legs of dizzy spiders, she shuddered and then looked at the door, narrowing her eyes.  This strange skin buzzing feeling was generally a precurser to one of her “lucky finds”. She shuddered again and put her game face on as Gene peeked out the door and motioned to her.

“Come, get in here before your brother destroys the place, why’d you let us bring Harold anyway?”

She laughed and shook her head. “My brother huh? No relation to you?” She let herself into the bar, shaking her head again. The eight of them were all exact replications of each other, almost every nuance and expression could be found in perfect duplication on any of thier faces.

It was only their attitudes and behaviours that set them apart from one another.

There wasn’t anything in the bar. She narrowed her brown eyes and looked harder at the patrons, her mouth was tight and her expression was almost grim as she concentrated. And suddenly there it was. Like fine fairy dust on one of the glasses some scraggly man was drinking out of.
Gene touched her shoulder and she jumped, looking startled then laughed. “Sorry.” she said to his concerned expression. “I thought I knew him.” Gene looked at the man in question and gave Deviation very frank eyes.
“Like hell you thought THAT.” he told her as he moved away. “You’re just getting wierd on me again.” He sauntered towards their brother Harry just as he knocked some woman’s drink off the table. Gene caught the drink almost without looking at it, definatly without spilling a drop.
Not like it mattered to the woman, she was staring up at Harold with a mixture of awe, amusement and (here Deviation shook her head in disgust) unmasked lust.
Deviation walked towards the bar, scanning the patrons again. Nothing, just that fey dusting on the glass. She raised her eyes to the glasses hanging above the bar and the bottles on the rack behind the bar and was almost blinded by the glow that only she could see.
The glow of fingerprints dusted yellow.
Her mouth dropped open for a moment then she smiled, seeking out the bartender. She went to her brothers and took their drink order. Fred gave Deviation one of his unreadable looks when she asked him sweetly what he’d like to drink. “Whisky Sour, you know that…” Right then Harold burst into song, almost literally since he’d somehow obtained a whole bottle of Jack Daniels and was currently using it as an air guitar.
The woman squeeled in delight. “OHMIGOD! IT IS YOU!!”
“Seems your darling sibling is putting on the rock star act again.” muttered Gene, Harold was the lead singer of a popular emo rock band though he used a diffrent name in his act. He thought Harold Colderone was too “Accountantish” for the lead of a band called “Alive with the Glory of the Dark Masmia of my Soul”… or whatever their name was now.
Deviation rolled her eyes.
“Sure, why is it that you all keep giving that boy to ME?” she muttered back then moved away. She kept her eyes on the bartender and the barback, not sure which one it was until one of them touched something and left that tell tale dandiloin colored fingerprint behind.
She lowered her gaze and caught sight of a yellow fingerprint in the shape of a thumbnail moon, one that had odviously been missed during clean up.
She touched it, smearing the yellow into fantastic shapes until it’s color faded. She caught the bartender’s eye and grinned, tilting her head slightly. She was tall and well built with a pixieish face, one that was utterly adorable on her but damnation to her brothers.
Deviation placed her orders and handed the tender too much money. He was cute in a rascalish sort of way, she thought then lowered her eyes again to the place where the fingerprint had been.
It wasn’t very easy for her to see things other people couldn’t, it was distracting to say the least… she looked up again just as Harry got to the chorus of a song of his that was currently played on the radio then laughed as most of the women and some of the men joined in singing. Her brother glowed like a beacon, as if stage lights were trained
on his every move. He glowed so bright that the upturned faces of those around him reflected it… but it was a light that only she could see.
Sometimes, she mused, it’s a lonely feeling. Then she shrugged and ran her hands through her hair. “…and sometimes it’s the best feeling in the world.” she muttered under her breath.

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