Happy Hour

[not_a_hologram]

[OOM: In 1975, a little R&R doesn't go so well.]

Al had a shower and put on dry clothes (khakis and a loud Hawaiian shirt; after all he is on vacation) once he got back to his hotel, but the hotel bar was already closed and the odds of finding a tobacconist at that hour weren't great either, so he is plenty grateful when the door leads him to Milliways instead. At least here he can get some more cigars.

He wasn't expecting the note that appears with the cigar box, but what the hell. He's got nothing better to do, and maybe it'll distract him for a while. He lights a cigar, before writing on the board:

Specials:
Martini
Tequila Sunrise
Black Russian
Harvey Wallbanger

He fixes himself a Jack and Coke, and settles in to enjoy his cigar.

[open forever since it went up late!][this younger Al Calavicci comes in shortly after the Quantum Leap novel Pulitzer]

Comments

[margolotta]

There is a lady leaning on the bar, pondering the specials lists.

It might be a list of absolute classics in his world and time, but not in hers.

[not_a_hologram]

"Anything catch your eye?" Al asks, setting his own glass down.

He can make things that aren't on the list, too, but figured it'd be best to keep the specials all fairly simple drinks.

[margolotta]

"Actually, I don't know any of these drinks," the lady says, with a friendly of close-lipped smile.

[not_a_hologram]

"Well, what kind of drink do you usually like?" he asks. "Something sweeter, something stronger, something to warm you up? Or something you're more familiar with; I take direction pretty well."

[margolotta]

"Oh, do you, my dear?" she says, slightly amused. "Well, usually I drink wine or tea."

[not_a_hologram]

"Are you looking for one of those," he asks, "or something different? I can do either of those, but what's life for if not experimenting?"

Not that he's doing any experimenting himself, today, but there's a time and place for falling back on old comforts.

[margolotta]

"I think," she says, "I'll go for the experiment. What would you recommend?"

[not_a_hologram]

"Something off the board completely," he says, "if you like wine."

He gets a glass and starts mixing up a drink he remembers his father's friends preferring.

"It's like summer in a glass."

[margolotta]

She accepts it, and takes a sip.

"Oh, this is lovely, and excellent!" she declares. "I like that. What is it called?"

[not_a_hologram]

"It's a Bellini," he says. "Peach nectar and champagne. I used to get 'em in New York, but I haven't had one in years."

Most of the time when he drinks these days, he goes straight for the harder stuff.

"I'm glad you like it, though."

[margolotta]

"New York," she says. "Where is that, and why is it new?"

[gotham-knocking.livejournal.com]

"You know, they say those things will kill...got any spares?" Knox has something of a smile, but he's still a long way from chipper. He misses Rapunzel more and more every day, even if the pain has dimmed just a little.

[not_a_hologram]

"Life's too short to worry about all the things that can kill you," Al says, taking a cigar from the box and offering it over. "Eventually something will, but why miss the fun of all the things that won't?"

[gotham-knocking.livejournal.com]

"Thanks. I really do try to take care of myself, actually, but they say I breathe in the equivalent of three packs a day in Gotham. And without the nicotine." He bites off the end, lights a match, and takes a puff. "Oooo. The good stuff. Cuban?"

[not_a_hologram]

"Dominican," he says. "I'd get in a lot of trouble if anybody caught me with Cubans back home--not that it matters here, I guess, but old habits and all."

[gotham-knocking.livejournal.com]

"I know a few places I could get them, but I don't need them so much that I want to help Fidel." And Knox does try to obey the law, usually.

"Can I get a Gotham Reserve Beer, circa 1966?"

[not_a_hologram]

"I've had 'em a couple times when we've gone down to Tijuana," he says.

With Beth, when they lived in San Diego. She always loved good Mexican food.

That's enough of that line of thinking.

"That'd be in a bottle, right?" He scans the selection; it takes him a few moments to find one.

[gotham-knocking.livejournal.com]

"I bet the Bar could make one on tap, but yeah, it's usually in a bottle.

"Never been to Tijuana. My dad made it sound like the sort of place you go to get the clap." Pause. "Not that he did. He just hated it on general principle."

[not_a_hologram]

"Your father's a wise man," Al says with a quiet chuckle, as he opens the bottle and slides it over. "Not that I ever did either, but I knew a few guys who did. But I went there for the food, not the nightlife."

Never mind how it would've hurt his chances with the nurses if he'd had something like that in his medical file.

[gotham-knocking.livejournal.com]

"I think that is the first time in the history of the world that anyone called my dad a wise man. Not that I don't love him. But wise?" He sips the beer that could have made Gotham famous, if marketed properly.

"I never got much of a taste for Mexican. Too spicy for me."

[not_a_hologram]

"I've never met a kind of food I didn't like," Al says. "There's some individual dishes I don't care for, but I like spicy. I like Cajun spicy just as much as Mexican."

[ikissdhimbck]

Kate walks downstairs tonight, fresh from a shower. Her hair is pulled back into a long braided tress, dark blonde rather than her typical wheat field gold. Her hands are wrapped in simple white bandages, and there's a ruby of dried blood on her bottom lip.

The bartender looks familiar, though she can't figure out why. All she knows is she needs a little something to help ease the aches and soreness of last Monday's events.

"Tequila Sunrise."

She settles on a stool.

"That sounds promisin'."

[not_a_hologram]

She looks vaguely familiar, but he can't quite place her either. Then again, he's met a lot of women in his time.

"You look about as rough as I feel," he says, as he sets about making her drink. "I hope this helps you a bit. I find a good drink usually does."

[ikissdhimbck]

She grins, though she has to rein it in. The still-healing scab at the corner of her mouth pulls when she smiles too broadly.

"I've seen rougher days."

Her voice carries that tint of Texas, like soft southern breezes and fields of ripened gold. She's a pretty little thing, when she's not black and blue. And even then.

"Though, if I were t'make a repeat of last week, I might do things a bit different. You havin' a tough night, sweetheart?"

[not_a_hologram]

"More like a tough eight years. But that's life, you know? It's not supposed to be easy."

When you've got no powers above to count on, when all you have are the people in your life and they let you down too--yeah. He's not sure what he can count on anymore. Just the Navy, and even that faith has been shaken pretty badly.

He slides the drink over. "How else would we know how strong we are?"