milliways_bar | (no subject)

"Um...excuse me? If I could have everyone's attention for a minute."

The hustle and bustle of the bar continues a pace, as if he'd said nothing at all.

"Hello? Can I have your attention, please."

Still nothing. There are drinks being drunk and foods being eaten and hub-bubs to bub.

"Okay...that's it."

A near ear piercing whistle makes it's way through the din. You'd almost expect a fleet of taxis to pull up along side the dirty-blonde haired man standing behind Bar. After all, that's what whistles like that are cultivated for in the first place.

"Thank you. Uh,...I guess I have an announcement to make. Um...first things first. Apologies to those who've had questionable...uh...bar-fare in the last couple of days. There's a refund coming your way if you were inconvenienced in any way. It's been a rough week of transition for everyone involved, and we appreciate your patience.

This brings me to my second point, um...for the time being...."

At this turn of phrase he winces slightly, as if someone had just poked him rather hard in the brain.

"...I will be assuming the role of Head Barman. So uh...yeah. If you've got any concerns, let me know I'll do what I can. If you have any complaints...please keep in mind that I am a highly trained ninja that can kill you in your sleep.

Okay with that said...the Bar is open."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"No thanks necessary, your enthusiasm is enough."

"I'm ecstatic. Really, just look at me. Mind if I tap dance on the bar for a bit, or will she mind?"

Why is referring to Bar as a she anyways? Does Bar HAVE a gender?

If you wake her up no only will she mind, but I'll mind. I really don't like to have to mind if I don't have to."

"Wake her up?"

That gets a funny look. He's confused.

"From sleeping?"

Oh man, is this kid from some place without sleep. The poor bastard.

He's a poor bastard for other reasons.

"...Bar sleeps?"

News to him.

"Well, not if you insist on tapdancing on her head she won't. And right now she could use the rest, okay?"

"Oh, sorry."

Pause.

"See, this is the kinda stuff I wish people taught me when I came here. I mean, I knew Bar was like, alive and stuff, but nobody ever told me she slept. Or that there was a head barman dude, actually, but I found that out eventually."

Mike nods in agreement.

"There's a lot to take in. We should probably make some sort of welcoming package with a Frequently Asked Questions section."

"No kidding. I'm still learning shit. For example: the rafters? Are fucking boring."

He did a lot of research into that. Lots of time spent doing tests.

Really.

"How so?"

Oh the things Mike has started in those rafters. Never finished...because that would be against the rules.

"Well I'm usually only up there to avoid crowds or certain people, and I'm always alone up there. With absolutely nothing to do. I'm fifteen. Kids my age don't really like to sit around doing nothin'."

"It's a good thing you reminded me, I might have forgotten what Fifteen was like, what with it being all of six years ago."

He smirks goodnaturedly.

"So I take it you're bound here?"

"Nope."

WHY does everybody think that?

"But my Dad's a nut, and my sisters bug me a lot, and all I ever do at home is study. And with no school during the summer, this is pretty much all I do."

"You could kick things...."

What? It's what he was always told to do if he ever complained about being bored.

"Well, at home that causes my Dad to start a big fight and then go crying to a poster of my Mom, and here, well, I'm not sure where I could kick stuff that's not in peoples way. Except outside, and I don't wanna start kickin' rocks to pass the time."

"Your dad cries when you kick?"

"He cries when I win our fights. He's weird."

Weird doesn't even BEGIN to describe it.