milliways_bar | (no subject)

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jo harvelle

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Jo's dressed in long sleeve flannel and jeans, both nice but loose.
Out of the left wrist is peeking a white-and-blue wrist splint.
Her night starts with arguing with a napkin in terse words.

But twenty minutes later, she's smugly standing under the board.

Tonight's Specials
Hell Mary
Gates of Hell
Red Eyed Hell

$1 1st pints from anywhere but Earth

"Happy Hour, come and get it."

[I'll be away from 7:30 to 7:50, but ep open until it's closed.]

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Buffy gives the specials board a cursory glance -- and then a second glance, which is longer and less cursory and gives her eyebrow muscles more of a workout.

"...Rough day?"

Jo shrugged. It burned, but it wasn't the worst.

"More like week." What with the crazy.

Beat. "Get you anything?"

Buffy is trying to figure out if there's a tactful way to ask if the Hell theme refers to Jo's literal location during that week.

She starts. "Oh! Um -- orange juice? Or actually, is there any grapefruit juice back there?"

Narration feels for Buffy.

But not that way.

"Yeah, we got it." Jo turned and rummaged in the fridge.
She came back with a bottle of juice and a tall normal cup.

"Oh, thanks." She sneaks another look at the specials board. Deja vu, but she's pretty sure this is a different blonde girl.

Pretty sure. It was a while ago.

Now she doesn't know whether or not to introduce herself.

"...I wonder if there's any fruit juice this place doesn't carry!"

Yes, definitely not a demon.
Or someone who would enjoy the comparison.

"Probably some the fridge doesn't have," she slid the glass to Buffy once it was full. "But the Bar has everything when it's awake."

"It really does," Buffy agrees. "I tried to test it out one time."

Did she even find out Original Flavor Hell Blonde's name in the first place? Maybe she should just introduce herself.

"I probably should've tested with something I'd actually enjoy, but, you know, hindsight." She takes a sip of grapefruit juice. "I'm Buffy, by the way."

"Jo. Harvelle." There's was a flippant smirk.
At least the talking kept her mind off of other things.

"So, what'd you try out that was so horrid?"

"A smoothie." Buffy looks at her juice. "I think the exact flavor combination was mango-carrot-durian."

"It probably would've been pretty good if it wasn't for the carrot," she adds, wistfully.

"I wouldn't have made it through a sip of that."

It sounds far too healthy to be safe.

"I made it through a few." She throws a glance toward the lakeside door. "And then some of the flowers out back finished it for me. I like mixing fruit juice, but there's an art to it."

"What's a good one?"

Yeah. Jo didn't have much.

Ava blinks at the board.

"What's with the brimstone?"

Then her gaze falls on the splint.

"Oooh." A wince. "Did something happen?"

Only the world going to hell. But, hey, familiar face.
"Apparently I'm not as coordinated as I thought."

It's a lie as much as it isn't.

She did make it down the staircase in one piece.

"Ew." Ava wrinkles up her nose. "Sorry."

She smiles, then looks suddenly blank.

"... I feel like I should be remembering your name except I keep thinking 'karaoke girl.'"

Jo's not sorry. She's still alive.
Hospitals are still as dumb as ever, too.
They were a far easier scheme than credit cards even.

"Ms. Uncoordinated wouldn't have been a step up from that?"
Jo was smirking, her good hand half-hooked at her pocket.
"It's Jo. Also, a bartender, if you wanted anything."

"Hi Jo!"

Ava smiles apologetically-- she keeps forgetting to get people's names. "I'm Ava. And, uhhhh ..."

Her smile changes. Perhaps it turns inward, somewhat speculative.

"Gates of Hell? Uh. Unless it contains actual brimstone, in which case I'll pass."

Jo canted her head at the name exchange.
One less hand made other things harder.

"No brimstone, just some brandy and tequila."
Beat. "I'll even make it good tequila for you."

Jo started gathering bottles, laying them on the counter.

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