Scene 1
The Seven-in-one was the graffiti-covered, eight-story, 24-7 hub for the residents at Eighth Pit Street. This operated, as the name suggests, for seven different types of service. The ground floor was an open street stall selling goods consisting of everything to do with the infernal, from banishment pendants and flasks of World Tears to sleeping tablets made from Dreameater teeth. It was easily accessible for the everyday person to buy their sense of security and prescriptions as well as an opportunity to help out the local economy.
If you were to ask Simon kindly for "The Big Boys Room", he'd giggle, because he got to come up with the codeword and lead you up a set of stairs behind the counter to the second floor. On this floor you'd find a small, firelit room, deep armchairs of deeper violet and an entre of whiskey and ice. This was a place for the veterans, the oldies and the ones with an ego big enough to match their wallet.
But if you wanted a drink, a dram - or karaoke if Hank was in a good mood - you would take a slim spiral passage (so as to not disturb floor two) up to what was a bustling bar/hub for freelance exorcists. It was a place to get work and to relax, or a place where the underaged could get a pint. Simon never asked for ID when he poured, though he did have a Chequestalker's eye clipped to a chain around his neck. It was about the size of a tennis ball, and glowed bright yellow when near a forged bank note. Management officials rarely entered anywhere past floor three, due to stabbing remarks and glances from the loyal locals of Eighth Pit Street. The bar had a feeling that you never wanted to leave, it was cosy, and easy, and despite there being only four drinks to choose from, the glasses never ceased to be filled to the brim. There was only one rule: walk in sober. But if you couldn't walk out drunk, you'd be hoisted up one handed by Hank to a room on the hostel floor above.
A lesser demon of sloth, specifically a Workhoarse, resided at the very end of the hall of floor four, almost indefinitely sleeping on a light blue rug. Newcomers to the Seven-in-one would be quickly reassured by Simon that it was in fact a contracting demon that belonged to the block's janitor, Lin, who would usually be found contently smiling in the corner of the bar, leaning on her mop. Inevitably Hank would growl at her to "Do your damn job, wa wa wa."
Charlie couldn't tell you what was in floors five and six, as they had thick, steel, locked, bolted doors, with floor five having a small sign declaring "Out of service". It had been that way for as long as she remembered actually. She frequently asked Simon what were behind those doors, but was always met with the same tantalisingly vague answer, saying "Oh you're not a good enough exorcist yet." This inherently left a big impression on seven year old Charlie. Hank had problems with the teasing, though he admittedly saw it as a good lesson in restraint.
However, floor seven's door was always open, though seldom had any visitors. It was a workshop, consisting of a bench the size of a banquet table and a wall of tools and weaponry to match. Lit by a single flickering bulb with the windows bolted shut, much like the doors of floors five and six. It was a repair shop for the exorcists that had the respect of Eighth Pit Street to get past floor three, but an armoury for himself, though he'd always, no matter who, have them surrender their weapons before entering.
(will be writing more)