Gas Lamp Club
Occupying the ground floor of a four-story brownstone townhouse on Barton Street, the Gas Lamp Club claims to be a coffee-house, but that's really only a facade for essentially a middle class 'gentlemen's club'. Being very eclectic, it does not discriminate against women, but then again, it doesn't have any need to.
There are some 40 tables on the floor, some round, some square, each with four chairs. Depending on a person's preference, a table may have a blue-and-white checkered tablecloth on it, or dusky rose tablecloth, or none.
There is sufficient space between tables for the wait staff to ride a penny-farthing bicycle around to all the tables. There are never more than two penny-farthings on the floor at a time; in fact, it is unclear whether there even are more than two.
There are two bars. The one on the left is larger, and serves ale, beer, brandy, wine and other spirits. The small one on the right is the coffee bar. An infernal espresso machine sits on a shelf behind the bar and dispenses frothing coffee with an assortment of whirs, clanks, bangs and whistles. Mostly, though, this sporadic din is lost in the bustling conversations contantly going on.
Behind the spirits bar is a mechanical man bartender named Hugo. He is capable of independent thought and can interact with customers in sort of staccato mechanical voice. The great thing about Hugo is that he can dispense advice with the best of them, but he never gets riled (or tired!).
A kitchen and backroom lie behind the bars with access to them through doors between the two bars. Usually only simple fare is offered, but an occasional international dish is offered up.
The decor in the club is equally eclectic. There are framed photographs on the walls, interspersed with paintings, blueprints, carvings, masks, sports memorabilia, old tools, framed newspaper clippings and dust covers from books. More tools, sculptures, sports items, musical instruments and small geodesic domes hang from the ceiling.
Nothing, however, is more eclectic than the patrons of the club. A variety of nationalities is represented, with the corresponding accents and garb, and an equally eclectic assortment of headgear is usually visible.
Patrons include singers, composers, writers, painters, sculptures, mechanics, engineers, reporters, dancers, actors, scoundrels, constables, factory workers, builders, sailors, soldiers, and other sorts too numerous to mention. Occasionally a lord can be found slumming in the club or lower classers will sneak in.
Remi and Viktor are at the bar and Remi is chatting with Mark Twain, Miko is sitting at a table with the professor on the coffee bar side, Leon has just been introduced to Mercy Kincaid by Rudy, and Felix has just saved the life of one of those slumming lords, Lord Kentigern.
Over by the window on the spirit side of the club, Anastasia is sitting at a table with Madame Irenke. Sitting on the table between them is a crystal ball on pewter stand. Madame Irenke, of course, is a medium.
"No, no, no," Irenke is explaining to Anastasia in a Hungarian accent. "You cannot look directly AT the crystal ball. You must look PAST it. The visions cannot be stared at like a naked woman. They are subtle, fleeting. Sometimes they come when you least expect it."