[ happy hour ]

[almosthonorable]

Ben Wade is greeted with a handful of surprises when he enters the bar.

One is delicious.

Another is unexpected, to say the least.

And the last, well. He never minds this particular request so much.

"Happy to," he tells the counter, while he withdraws what's sure to be a spectacular cherry tart from the basket at his elbow. "As long as you don't mind me askin' a favor of you."

A napkin appears.

"Now that's just lewd," he says, smirking. "Flattered as I am, I'll have to say no, ma'am. What I need is for you to hold on to a couple things for me -- if you'd be so kind, of course."

Moments later, Ben's signature black hat and his infamous gun are in Bar's care, where they'll remain for the next few weeks, if not months.

He gives the bartop an affectionate half-smile before rounding the counter, rolling up his shirtsleeves as he goes.

Not long afterward, the specials board bears his uniform scrawl.

specials:
milk punch
bourbon
coffee
bourbon coffee
While he waits for customers, he helps himself to that tart -- which is, predictably, delectable -- and a glass of milk punch.

[ ooc: open for business all day and most of the evening, y'all. have at! and we're closed for the night, as of 11:03 p.m. EST — thanks for tagging, everybody! I'll pick up slows asap tomorrow for all who want 'em. ]

Comments

[waco_jim]

Jim sits down and raises an eyebrow. "The hell's milk punch?"

[almosthonorable]

"A kick in the pants, if you make it right," Ben says, without missing a beat as he rinses a shot glass.

"It's sweeter than your mother's voice, but there's enough bourbon in there to make up for the toothache."

[waco_jim]

Jim smiles. "Well, now you've got me curious. Get me one of those."

[almosthonorable]

"Hell, I'll get you two, if you take a shine to it."

Ben snags a freshly frozen pitcher from the flash-freezer, and pours out a glass for the newcomer.

"The book said to garnish with grated nutmeg," he says, with something akin to disdain, "but seein' as how I ain't really the garnishin' type, well."

Wry half-smile in place, he slides over the nutmeg-free punch.

[almosthonorable]

"Good man," Ben says, and lifts what's left of his own glass of milk punch in a makeshift toast.

"But if you think this is sweet, surely you haven't met the baker around here? Pretty as a picture, and likes to feed everybody around her?"

[waco_jim]

"Unfortunately, I haven't," Jim says. "But I haven't been here a week yet."

[almosthonorable]

"A cryin' shame if I've ever heard one," he says. "Give it time, and you'll see."

Ben reaches into Sunshine's generous gift basket, and offers up a slice of maple-syrup pound cake.

"For now, take this."

[waco_jim]

"Thank you," Jim says. He quietly asks Bar for a plate and plastic fork to eat it with. He digs in and takes a bite.

He closes his eyes. The cake is sweet, rich, and syrupy, with a velvety, crumbly texture.

"Holy shimmft," he exclaims, mouth still full of cake, "Thimfs is deliffishms!"

[almosthonorable]

Ben nods, once, sage as sage can be.

"Make Sunshine's acquaintance, and as long as you stay in her good graces, you'll never go hungry again."

[waco_jim]

Jim has already finished the cake and by this point is licking the fork.

"Believe me, I will. Any pointers on where I can find her?"

[almosthonorable]

"Just look starved or pitiful enough, and she'll find you when she comes out of the kitchen."

He reaches for a towel, and swipes up a small spill from an earlier tussle with the espresso machine.

"Ben Wade, by the way. You already get the lay of the land from a welcome wagon or two?"

[waco_jim]

"Shouldn't be too hard," Jim says. "I'm good at begging."

He tips his hat. "Jim, though in my youth I was better known as the Waco Kid. I've been here a little under a week now, so I've heard the whole song and dance at least twice."