Happy Hour!

[katyafeline]

Tonight, Katya hops up onto the bar after a long day of stealing Wonderbread from her partner. Instead of a drink, she's immediately presented with a napkin.

"Put I just..."

Second napkin.

"Can't I..."

Third napkin.

"... Fine."

She snags a piece of chalk and abandons her seat to work up a specials menu. She does have some sense of tactics, after all, and keeping the magic bar from her nap means a lot of Sambuca in her future.

Specials!
Vodka
Anything you're willing to share with your bartender

Comments

[not_his_pa]

William sets down two biscuits left over from what his mother made this morning,

"Hello, I've got some extra."

[katyafeline]

"Mmmmm." She snags a bottle of vodka before settling back on the bartop, because that's definitely what he would order.

It's what she'd hear him order, at any rate, which tonight amounts to much the same thing. After pouring them both a glass, she snags a biscuit as well. Mmmmmm tastes of mothers love and the burnt bits from an unevenly-baking oven.

[not_his_pa]

He grins at her happy sound and raises his glass, "Thank you."

[katyafeline]

"I am being a good bartender." She is anticipating the needs of her customers.

And/or getting the American boy drunk again. Sometimes that happens by accident, and she cannot be blamed for that.

[not_his_pa]

"You are, I've been workin' hard today and met the newest stable hand. Javert, he looks sort of like Wade,"

Which is odd, he's not Wade but still it bothered him and he drinks more.

[katyafeline]

She raises an eyebrow at him - she hardly has a problem with self-medicating with vodka (she wouldn't give anybody vodka if that was true) but considering that particular person comes here, it seems like an odd thing to be focusing on.

"And he is also American?"

[not_his_pa]

"No, he's French, just surprised me. Been a while since I've seen Wade around and there hasn't been any news of him gettin' caught at home. I mean I know there are other folks look like me and even met one that kind of looks like my Pa, I just got surprised. Its stupid,"

Wade's a constant here and someone else with his face is weird.

[boston_bruiser]

Here's a face Katya hasn't seen in a while.

He plops himself down on a stool, glances at the specials board, then Katya.

"Ryumku vodki, pryamyye,"* he says, putting his pistol and holster on the Bar. They disappear as Bar whisks them away.

*["A shot of vodka, straight."]

[katyafeline]

His accent isn't bad, for an American. She refrains from teasing him about it when she leans on the bar.


"Kakuyu marku, ili ya dolzhen vybrat'?" She asks in return, curious to see if he'll pick something beyond the more commonly found brands in America.

If he picks something flavored, she reserves the right to smack sense into his head.

("What brand, or should I choose?")

[boston_bruiser]

Flavored? Good golly Miss Molly no. Even Voodoo's got more sense than that.

Now he's never been to Russia, himself, but if most of the Spetsnaz guys he's worked with are to be trusted...

"Ya chuvstvuyu, priklyucheniy segodnya vecherom. Kak naschet Russkiy standart?"*

*["I feel adventurous tonight. How about some Russian Standard?"]

[katyafeline]

She makes a bit of a face, but since she refrains from actively deriding his choice, he can't have done too badly.

"Po krayney mere, vy vybrali russkiy brend." There's grudging respect there, as she pulls down the requested bottle. "Khotite steklo, ili prosto butylki?"

("At the very least, you have chosen a Russian brand. Would you like a glass, or just the bottle?")

[boston_bruiser]

Voodoo excels at not fucking up!

Most of the time.

"Stekla, na dannyy moment. Khotite podelit'sya butylku?"*

*["A glass, for the moment. Want to share the bottle?"]

[katyafeline]

"I thought you would never ask." Hey, he's giving her vodka, she can speak in his language in return. With a very practiced twist of her wrist she opens the bottle and pours out two glasses. "So, who taught you vodka?" She's been in North America for a couple years now - she's figured out that vodka is a strange beast to most of the inhabitants.

[herr_bookman]

Autor has stuffed his nose in a book, as usual. Unfortunately, it's a sniffling nose, and if an errant and undignified, "guh," passes from his lips once in a while, well. He's not in a position to complain.

"Is Bar getting revenge for that time when you stood on her?" he asks his Witch Woman as he approaches.

[katyafeline]

"Bar is taking a nap, knowing I am fully capable of making sure the patrons will get good alcohol from me." Katya sniffs. "What's wrong with you? You sound terrible."

[herr_bookman]

"Someone threw me into a snowbank," he says nasally, with an accompanying side-eye. "I've been holed up in my room ever since."

[katyafeline]

"And because you refuse to see your physician, you become sick." Katya finishes the logic, shaking her head at him.

She's also setting up a hotplate, and a pot of water. As much as she'd like to say vodka cures everything, sbiten cures colds. It's a well-known fact. Or something.

[herr_bookman]

"Wait, what?" he says, blinking between sniffles. The lack of snark surprises him; the hot-plate doubly so. "I didn't mean to--What are you doing?"

[katyafeline]

"Heating water to boil your head." She informs him, before looking under the counters for the rest of her ingredients.

[hasthehighground]

"Unfortunately not vodka," Clint says, pulling up a barstool. "But get a glass on me, if you don't want to share coffee."

He's dressed like a businessman, purple tie and all.

"How're things, Katya?"

[katyafeline]

"I get free vodka tonight, so not bad." Katya never turns down vodka, so really, this is a sweet deal for her. "How do you like your coffee - mild, dark, or as black as Zabulon's excuse for a soul?"

[hasthehighground]

Clint breathes a laugh. "Dark's fine. Who's Zabulon?"

An ex, a sibling, a boss?

[katyafeline]

"The most dark creature in Russia. I pray he never comes here - he would feast." A place like this, free from the treaty? She only hopes that if Zabulon walks through those doors, it's on a day Olga's feeling up for a fight.

She finds the appropriate beans and a mortar and pestle - it took her years to beat her electronics into submission, she doesn't feel up to arguing with a mechanical grinder.

[hasthehighground]

Clint nods. The power differentials in Milliways kind of freak him out.

"Why're you doing it that way?" he asks, plainly curious. He's pretty sure she's modern, but her world's got magic and -- who knows, maybe it's a tradition in her world. That's the only reason he's had it prepped that way before; Ethiopia takes its coffee very seriously.

[katyafeline]

She frowns as she grinds the beans down with quick, efficient movements that are from decades of practice.

"Well. Electronics sometimes don't agree with me." She admits, her expression wry. She's pretty sure the blade from the last grinder is still in the roof beams somewhere.