Happy Hour

[baptizemyself]

There's a nervous looking woman stood behind the bar chalking up the specials on the board.

Specials
Class Act
Apple Martini
English Highball

Comments

[52-dropoff.livejournal.com]

"Hey. You're looking better." Charlie is never one to beat around the bush.

Except when he does.

[baptizemyself]

"Feeling better, too," she agrees.

[52-dropoff.livejournal.com]

"You must be. Bartending takes energy and stamina." He takes a seat. "Or so I hear. That is one of the few jobs I never considered for long."

[not_his_pa]

William hates having to be in his room and comes downstairs and slumps on a stool,

"Ma'am, could I get a coffee?"

His fever's finally broken but he still feels really tired.

[baptizemyself]

Coffee? Helena can do Coffee. It's an Italian thing.

"What kind?"

[not_his_pa]

He blinks since he's never sure how to answer that,

"Just black, ma'am. Feel like I ain't been really awake for days."

[smallgayjew]

The apple martini sounds intriguing, but Posner's a bit wary of alcohol after his first encounter, so he just slides onto a stool with a faint smile and says, "Could I just have a cup of tea?"

[baptizemyself]

Helena nods and turns her back on Posner to find the teas. There is a whole shelf devoted to different types.

"You got a preference?" she asks over her shoulder.

[smallgayjew]

"Irish breakfast? If there is any. Or Earl Grey." They have to have Earl Grey, right? Milliways has everything.

[not-his-son.livejournal.com]

"Class Act?"

Jason is intrigued. And probably about to make an off-colour comment about the woman behind the bar.

[baptizemyself]

Helena nods.

"I think Bar went with a teaching theme when she chose the specials."

[not-his-son.livejournal.com]

Jay looks her up and down, one eyebrow quirking behind the mask.

"You're a teacher?"

[not_his_pa]

William watches Jason over his coffee, he looks like the sort of man who causes trouble but doesn't look armed.

[not-his-son.livejournal.com]

His jacket is very bulky, though. It could conceal just about anything.

"What're you staring at, kid?"

[raptorcanaria]

Young woman in her early twenties gives an interested glance to the guy wearing a domino mask in what otherwise appears to be civvies, on her way to ordering a drink.

[not-his-son.livejournal.com]

Jay returns the glance, mostly because she's pretty.

"What?"

[theresnodoor]

Rachel generally keeps her routines to the morning. Today, however, she had some extra creepy-crawly-restless energy to burn off, and as such, is coming out of the elevators to the garage sometime after Happy Hour has started.

She does a quick scan around the tables to make sure there's no one present who might whine about her morphing suit/workout outfit, and walks to the bar for a drink.

What she gets is a surprise bartender.

"Helena, right?" Rachel asks, smiling as she slides onto a stool.

She won't say the woman looks better but-- wow, she really looks better.

[baptizemyself]

Helena nods and smiles, recognising the young girl.

"Right. And you're Rachel?"

[theresnodoor]

"Yeah. Hey."

She wipes her forehead free of sweat with the back of her hand and glances at the specials. They get a smile but not much more - the tragedies of the underaged.

...are not very tragic, admittedly.

"Can I get a water? Oh- or Gatorade. Let's go with Gatorade."

[not-his-son.livejournal.com]

Jay isn't going to whine about her morphing suit/workout outfit.

What, like anyone would?

(He's like eighteen, leave him alone.)



He's just looking.

[theresnodoor]

It's not just whining that bothers her. It's also undue attention. Even in the form of looking.

A lot of looking.

Rachel frowns a little into her drink but doesn't turn her head. She has to live in this bar - she'll give whoever it is a fair chance to look away first.

[two-to-the-head.livejournal.com]

A woman in dusty leather armor climbs up on a barstool, takes off her battered cowboy hat and places it on the bar in front of her. She's got a hunting rifle slung across her back: it doesn't seem to occur to her that this might make some people uncomfortable.

"I'd like a class act, please," she says. "Only 'cause it's probably as close to the real thing as I'll ever get."

[baptizemyself]

Yeah. the woman who recently got shot three times in the stomach eyes the gun warily.

"Sure thing," she says, tearing her eyes away and turning to the woman, looking her over, sizing her up. She doesn't look like she's planning on causing any trouble, though. Yet.

Helena checks Bar's instructions and starts pouring the ingredients into a shaker.

[alreadyknowhow]

One freshly showered, shaved and properly dressed young grifter, approaching the bar. All the drinks on the specials board look classier than he's used to, but Johnny's okay with that. Upward mobility, right?

"I'll have a highball, please," he says.

[baptizemyself]

"Sure," she says, grabbing the sheet of instructions for how to make that particular drink which Bar left her. She reads it once then sets about following the instructions to make the drink.