Happy Hour

[27_53]

"And don't be afraid to have fun tonight," Bar's napkin says. "See you in a few hours!"

Skellig glances at the hat that has appeared next to the napkin (and his evening order of egg rolls with sweet and sour sauce) and debates for a moment, before picking up a piece of chalk and approaching the Specials board.

Happy Hour

FREE:

M&M's Milkshakes
Gummi Worm Milkshakes

Eggrolls

HALF PRICE:

Beer



(Bar helps by providing several trays of egg rolls in a cabinet under the counter -- which apparently has warming capabilities -- as well as correcting Skellig's poor spelling.)

Skellig washes his hands, sheds his coat (which exposes his suddenly tie-dyed t-shirt, and his wings) and proceeds to start opening bags of M&M's and Gummi Worms, dumping the contents into two huge bowls.

And he's wearing the hat.


[Happy hour is up! Open until roughly 10PM EST.]

Comments

[emphasisonthe.livejournal.com]

MARDI GRAS! Which Lola is aware of, naturally. She loves this time of year. And no matter that outside her door she is stuck in hell at the moment (between assignments, sigh), today Lola has found a door, and it is even Mardi Gras. Which means she's wearing something soft and flowing and clinging, all at once, and a brilliant green with dangly earrings, with her dark hair a mass of curls.

Of course, she pauses at the specials.

"...what are M&Ms?" she asks the barkeep...and then notices his wings.





Uh-oh.

[27_53]

Skellig glances up and grins.

"M&M's are chocolate. With candy on the outside."

He pushes the bowl full of them over towards her. Simply milk chocolate, these ones are -- no nuts.

[emphasisonthe.livejournal.com]

This is...not angelic behaviour. There is no smiting.

She approves. Smiting is so tedious, not to mention hard on her clothes. And the Boss gets mad and she has to listen him rant and ugh.

She touches the bowl, and it does not burst into flames. Good.

"Wings?"

[27_53]

"I am not like most of Them."

Who he is speaking of, that is not exactly clear. But that is par for the course when it comes to Skellig.

[emphasisonthe.livejournal.com]

"Oh, good," Lola says, beaming at him. "That would be...awkward."

[27_53]

"Most awkward."

Skellig is scenting the air around her as he inhales, eyes glancing over her form. Checking her out, without checking her out. It is a professional courtesy; professional respect.

"The milkshakes are free. So are the eggrolls."

He reaches for a small plate, then goes to fetch several from the warming cabinet.

[emphasisonthe.livejournal.com]

Her hair is original, thick and dark. Her eyes are original, violet in a away that can sometimes look blue. But most of the rest is...not false, as she would say, but artistry. Made up. Chosen to suit a purpose, as well as her vanity.

If you sell your soul to the Devil for looks, you might as well get a good deal. And Lola with her form-shifting got a very good deal.

"Milkshakes are new. And interesting. I love this place." She's also, despite her brightness, inspecting him, too.

She's ditzy, not stupid.

[27_53]

"This place is very interesting."

Skellig hands over the plate, then reaches for a blender container.

"Chocolate ice cream, or vanilla?"

[emphasisonthe.livejournal.com]

"Chocolate," she answers, as if there was only one answer.

[27_53]

Several scoops of chocolate ice cream go into the container, followed by a cup of chocolate milk, and then a handful -- two handfuls, actually -- of M&M's.

Lid on can't forget that and then it goes onto the blender.




The swirl of candy color in the glass is amazing.

[emphasisonthe.livejournal.com]

It really is.



Far better than Hell.



And Lola is not too proud to admit that the colour is making her grin.

[27_53]

Skellig waits for it to be well blended, and then pours it out into a large mug.

A can of chocolate (liqueur!) flavored whipped cream is also found beneath the bar, and he sprays it onto the top of the milkshake. Some of it misses and hits the glass.

Oops.

[katyafeline.livejournal.com]

"Colorful today." Notes the (seemingly) young woman, as she pulls herself up to set cross-legged on the Bar's polished surface. "Is it a special occasion?"

[27_53]

"Not sure...Bar said to have fun?"

He adjusts the hat, tipping the fedora back to expose more of his face.

"And M&M's are fun."

[katyafeline.livejournal.com]

"If you say so." She replies, giving the brightly colored candies a dubious look. Sure, she knows what they are - American commerce has long since made inroads on the Russian landscape, but she didn't grow up on them, never learned why the red ones were clearly the best ones, and knows other treats a lot better.

"Make me something?" Normally she'd demand pelmeni and vodka (or champagne or cognac or budweiser) but every day that she's here, that she can watch the seasons shift and wonder about Russia and everything there, the harder it is to stay true to her 'normal'.

[27_53]

"Milkshake or something else? Can do alcohol, if you want me to."

The bowl gets pushed over to her.

[katyafeline.livejournal.com]

She snags the bowl, eying the candies inside curiously.

"Whatever you like. I'm not particular." She shrugs, swirling a finger through the hard-shelled candies and watching the patterns of color shift. She's pretty sure that's not the point, but it is pretty.

[27_53]

Skellig decides it is time to consult The Big Book Of Alcoholic Beverages.



And then sets about making her a drink. He's humming some sort of tune under his breath, though what exactly it is, who knows.

[katyafeline.livejournal.com]

By the time he's done consulting and mixing, she's started taking out different colored candies and making designs with them on the bar - some simple, like smiley faces and rudimentary trees, some abstract swirls of color mimicking the domes of St. Basil's Cathedral.

[27_53]

"Remind you of home?"

Skellig hands over the drink, in exchange for a handful of gummi worms.

[katyafeline.livejournal.com]

She twitches like a nettled cat, the words pinging an already tweaked nerve. Home is where you go back to. Abruptly she scoops the candies back into the bowl, and takes the drink.

"A place I once knew." She says instead, letting the sweet burn of the drink distract her.

[27_53]

"Memory is important," he says. "Keeps mistakes away."

And mistakes hurt.

[katyafeline.livejournal.com]

She gives him a wry grin, reaching over to grab one of the gummi worms and biting it in half with a neat snap.

"Nothing can do that."

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

"Well, can't have done too bad a job, if they're putting you to work." McCoy's drawl is distinctive, and lazy - he's taking an impromptu long weekend, after dealing with a particularly obstinate captain. Someone has to make sure at least one member of the command crew is somewhat sane, after all.

(That someone is Olga. Who gave him this look when he tried to leave. Yup.)

[27_53]

"She needed a nap," he says, as if this is Totally Normal. "I've done it before."

These specials are a step up from the last ones. He's learning.

"Eggrolls?"

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

"Please." He could lecture all the live-long day about the unhealthiness, in general, of eggrolls. There is precious little to recommend them from a nutrition aspect, and quite a lot to put against them.

But Skellig is right on t his one - there's something indefinably good about eggrolls. Especially when they come with the sauce.

[27_53]

Bar made certain to give him a very generous portion of sauce. That is because Bar is wise when it comes to these things.

"One moment."

He ducks under the counter to go digging into the cabinet where Bar stashed the egg rolls.

And when he returns, he's got a heaping plate stacked with eggrolls, and sauce.

"Want a drink?"

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

"Wouldn't say no to a glass of bourbon." McCoy grins, propping his elbows against the bar.

[27_53]

He hesitates, but only for a moment.





"...what's bourbon?"

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

"... Seriously?" Bones looks flabbergasted. Not know bourbon? Clearly he's been remiss in his duties. This boy's stayed up in the Victorian suite long enough to have a decent amount of exposure to a fair number of alcohols. (McCoy keeps a stocked cabinet. It's good for sanity checks.)

"Fourth bottle on the third shelf. Pour one for yourself, too, we need to rectify this." Not know bourbon? Not on his watch.

[27_53]

He grabs two smaller glasses (he's seen McCoy use something like those before) and then the bottle indicated. Both glasses get a neat three fingers of bourbon tipped into them.

"It's not like..." he motions at his mouth. "Mint. I'm supposed to swallow, right?"

Mouthwash, not for swallowing. Even if it is tasty.

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

He's learned, over time, that every question has a backstory to it somewhere, though sometimes those stories are so twisted and convoluted with time and retelling they're hardly recognizable anymore. It's usually better and easier to just answer the question as it is given.

"Supposed to swallow, yup. Otherwise they'd sell smaller bottles." And less of it - while the aim isn't to get drunk, or at least pleasantly tipsy, it's a fun road to head down for a ways.

[27_53]

He lifts his glass in a hint of a toast. He knows that much is proper.

"To health?"

(It's as good a toast as any, and probably pretty fitting.)

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

"Works for me." He grins, a lazy Southern-boy grin as he taps his glass against Skellig's before tipping some of the beloved drink down his throat.

Mmmmm.

No matter what other people say, that right there is one of the finer things in life.

[27_53]

Skellig's alcohol knowledge consists of brown ale, Listerine, and cheap vodka.

This?




Is something else entirely.


"Tastes like ice cream."

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

"That's not one I've heard before." He laughs, scooping up one of the egg rolls. "Though I wouldn't say it's a bad idea."