Happy Hour!

[piesordeath.livejournal.com]

There are many things Ned has yet to check off his proverbial Things To Do Before I Die list, and bartending at any sort of bar is one of them.

(But why not add a couple of extra points for uniqueness? Throw in a bar at the end of the universe, too.)

The Happy Hour specials are written in very precise, neat handwriting and reflect his day-job. It's hard to stray too far away from pie-making, it seems.


Tonight's Specials

Apple Pie in a Glass
American Pie
Mud Pie


He quickly gives the bartop a wipe-down, then turns to the bar space at large.

"Okay. What'll it be?"


[ooc: And the brains have officially decided they've had enough. Slowtimes for all, please! And thanks for tagging!]

Comments

[piesordeath.livejournal.com]

Ideas are good! Ned likes Ideas. Particularly Chuck's Ideas.

In any case, that makes him laugh, scrunching his nose.

"Yeah. But odd in a good way. Though I might be a little biased, considering it's us we're talking about."

[lonelytouristcc.livejournal.com]

"I am equally and similarly biased," Chuck declares.

At any rate, that look on his face may require her to request just such a thing from Bar.

"Call it a tip for the bartender," she adds, standing on a rung of the barstool and leaning across to kiss him through the plastic.

[piesordeath.livejournal.com]

Cue the silly, utterly besotted grin once more.



"- best tip I've ever been given," he remarks. He imagines he can taste the Apple Pie drink on her lips.

[lonelytouristcc.livejournal.com]

Her lips momentarily stick to the plastic wrap before she pulls it away.

"There's more where that came from."

[piesordeath.livejournal.com]

He grins against the plastic wrap as well.

"I accept any and all tips."

[lonelytouristcc.livejournal.com]

She leans in once more for a brief afterthought; then, something Olive had said dawns on her, and she lowers the piece of plastic wrap from between them to talk.

"I know they're not as good as the real, warm, lip-against-lip tips."

[piesordeath.livejournal.com]

His slight daze and dreamy expression start to dissolve as he comes back down to reality.

"... hmm?"

He blinks.

[lonelytouristcc.livejournal.com]

"You know, the sort of kiss you would receive on impulse, or from an elderly grandmother, or as an expression of undying gratitude," she hurriedly adds.

Not that she's alluding to anyone in particular or anything.

[piesordeath.livejournal.com]

Grandmother?

He might have recoiled just a little from that sort of thought.

He doesn't even remember what any of his grandmothers were like. At all. (They might as well have not existed.)

"I was never a fan of the kiss - or hug - or anything, really," he reminds her. "Until you."

[lonelytouristcc.livejournal.com]

"You don't ever miss it?"

There are some moments when she has to hold back on her impulses; she can only imagine how much more difficult it is for him.

On the other hand, he's had more practice with that sort of control.

[piesordeath.livejournal.com]

"From you? Of course I do. Every day."

And at the risk of sounding like a complete sap, he goes on. (Though it's a bit difficult to find the right words.)

"But from anyone else, no. I don't need anyone else's kisses or hugs."

[lonelytouristcc.livejournal.com]

That answer satisfies her - for now, at least.

Another part of her still wishes she could give him more than what he's only touched through rubber or plastic.

"And I don't, either."

[piesordeath.livejournal.com]

He's keeping the dream alive that one day, there might be a way.

He has no idea how, or when, but that day will come. (He has to be sure of it.)


"Then I'm happy."