Happy Hour.

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Since her last time behind the bar didn't wind up in disaster, Joan isn't surprised in the slightest when the note from Bar herself pops up again.

She doesn't glance twice at it, instead using it to blot a recent application of deep red lipstick, and then slips back behind the bar again, leaving the big red kiss on the crumpled napkin.

Five minutes later, the board reads the specials:

Old-Fashioned
White Russian
Gimlet

Joan fishes around in her purse for a cigarette; as such, she'll be a little distracted until she finds a light.

[ tiny tag: joan holloway ]

[ ooc: a little earlier tonight. tag in, tag often, tag each other. ]

Comments

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"No?" He takes a sip of his wine and leans on the counter again. "And what word would you use, my dear?"

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"I'm not a fan of men lacking in maturity, for starters."

Joan can be picky when it comes to potential suitors.

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Nikola smiles. "You like older men, then."

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"I did admit to that much, didn't I?"

She does go for a certain type, admittedly - Roger, previously.

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"Maturity can mean so many things," Nikola points out.

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"Like?"

She knows a few of its benefits already; granted, one of the reasons her relationship with Roger wasn't exactly made to last was that he was already married.

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He shrugs. "A very young man may possess a maturity beyond his years. Age does not always denote maturity."

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"Maybe not," Joan murmurs, "but it's a good start."

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"Well, I won't argue with that," Nikola says, smiling.

He's fairly certain he's got any of her former suitors beat in that department.

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Or current, most likely.

"Good. It'll be a lot less painful for us both."

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Well, now, that's almost a challenge. If it wouldn't work against his purpose to argue, he might have to just on principle.

"Generally a good beginning to a relationship," Nikola agrees. He offers her his hand. "Nikola Tesla."

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She clasps the hand offered, briefly, before it returns to her glass. "Joan Holloway."

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There's just the tiniest hint of disappointment in his voice when he says, "A pleasure to meet you, Miss Holloway."

It's always sad when someone clearly from Earth doesn't recognize his name.

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Joan's an office manager, not a scientist. There are some fields she just hasn't been required to learn.

She does catch that disappointment, though.

"Is it, really? Or do you just not want to hurt my feelings again?" she teases.

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A fact that makes him even less fond of the American education system.

"I'd hardly allow you to be the first person I lied to on that account," he says. "I was just...disappointed in your education."

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Well, it's hardly Joan's fault. If she was a man, there's a good chance she would know of him.

"So sorry to disappoint."

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He sighs. "It does seem to happen more often than not."

The further he gets from his heyday, the fewer people have heard of him, it seems.

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She shrugs once and takes a lengthy sip of wine.

"Nothing much you can do for that."

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"Short of becoming a teacher, no," Nikola admits, draining the rest of his glass.

God help his students if he ever tried that.

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Joan shrugs and inclines her head towards his glass.

"Well, that often helps."

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"Not as often as I'd like," Nikola says, sliding his empty glass toward her for a refill.

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Joan promptly refills.

"I know the feeling."

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"Somehow, I doubt that," Nikola says, taking another substantial drink.

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"Certain events require the judicious application of alcohol," Joan answers.

"That's a fairly universal truth."

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"Perhaps," Nikola grants. "But for some of us, even the most liberal addition of alcohol makes no difference."