Happy Hour and a Bottle of Rum

[readsthearticles]

Billy's still undecided on the reality of this place. He still more than half figures that he hit his head on his way out of the captain's cabin and is laid out dreaming strange dreams. But hell, there's no point in standing around and arguing the point. Here he is and he might as well look around a bit.

He'd napped in a booth in the corner and when he ordered breakfast received with it a polite note--with instructions to come back in the afternoon and tend bar. With specials.

He writes SPECIALS up on the board in a tidy round hand...and then runs out of imagination for what the specials might actually be. So, uh, welcome to Happy Hour. With unspecified Specials. Provided by the big lad with his sleeves rolled up, currently standing behind the bar pulling out bottles at random.




((Hullo! Thanks to everyone who welcomed Billy! I admit I'm kinda running out of steam for Wow I'm New Here What Is This Place threads--is it okay if we handwave/let those drop? I'd love to pick up new conversations, I just have such a hard time holding up too many OMG I Don't Believe This Place What Is It threads at the same time...))

Comments

[childofrebellion]

(OOC: I'm good to end our thread. Billy's got a lot to take in. Might end up tagging this one again as discussing alcohol and food is always interesting.)

[readsthearticles]

((Awesome, please do! I'd love to continue/start new conversations and I was having fun with Cassian--I just always find it hard to keep up simultaneous WHAT IS THIS PLACE!!!! reaction threads...))

[childofrebellion]

(OOC: I get that. I'll tag here and we can start a new one.)

[childofrebellion]

Cassian hates working with informants on places where there are few ways to get out. There's only so much he can offer, because the Rebellion doesn't have that much to give other than hope.

Also the particles in the air are reminding him of the planet where he grew up, so when he opens the door with grey dust on his black leather jacket and his collar turned up, he allows himself a small moment of relief. When he reaches the counter, he considers the board. "Do I have to guess the specials or can anything be a special?"

[readsthearticles]

"Yeah, I'm still figuring that part out." He's not even entirely sure what a "special" is supposed to be. He picks up a bottle, one that's definitely rum. "Want to call this a special? Or--take your pick, really."

[childofrebellion]

"Its whatever you want to serve. Sometimes people do themes as there's a cocktail book under the counter. I'll take some of that, thanks."

Bar will have good rum and he could do with something strong to sip.

[readsthearticles]

He pours a glass briskly enough and hands it over. "So do they usually put people to work here right after they arrive?"

[childofrebellion]

"She tends to do what she wants, but she seems to choose people who might enjoy the work." As he talks, Cassian gently pats Bar before taking the glass and giving Billy a crisp salute with it.

Bar asked him to bartend which he enjoyed, meeting people and learning more as people talk to bartenders. "Could you hand me a towel too? This ash gets everywhere."

[readsthearticles]

"Sure thing." He's got one cloth slung over his shoulder, but he digs out a fresher one to hand over to Cassian. "So where are you coming from with all that?"

[childofrebellion]

Cassian wipes his face and his hair, which feels better. "Near another mining town, that's where all the jobs seem to be."

[readsthearticles]

"So do you...haul cargo in that flying ship? Or what?" It hadn't sounded big enough for much that way (though you could smuggle something nice and compact), and he has a feeling Cassian's work falls more into the or what? category.

[childofrebellion]

"Sometimes or transport passengers, whatever fits. What about your ship? What kind of cargo do you take on?"

Which is true, but mainly if he's flying with anyone they're connected to the Rebellion.

[readsthearticles]

"Bit of everything," he answers, amused. "We've got a hold full of tea and fine china right now. All very genteel."

[childofrebellion]

"Genteel, does that mean the custom taxes are higher?"

That's usually how it goes, everything costs something.

[readsthearticles]

"Mmm." Ye-es. Customs. Billy scratches his jaw. "Well, there's a family in Nassau that handles all that. We just need to get it into the town."

[childofrebellion]

Cassian takes another sip of rum as he puts the towel down on the counter as that's intriguing phrasing. "Are they fair?"

[readsthearticles]

That's a good question. He nods--approval of the thought process, not an answer. "They're fair enough, if everything's going well. As long as your luck is good and you're bringing in pr-- cargo, they'll treat you all right. Not everyone's happy, though."

[childofrebellion]

"Having something worth trading always helps, then there's more for everyone. What's making them unhappy?"

How bad can things go in Nassau? He's also wondering about what word Billy almost said.

[readsthearticles]

Billy considers how to translate the situation into terms unrelated to piracy. "Nassau's a pretty free and equal place, and there's some men who'd say the Guthries are a little too high-handed. You take the deals they give you, or you don't deal. --Some of those men just don't like a girl telling them what to do," he adds, compelled by honesty.

[childofrebellion]

"Free and equal but only one family in control. In my galaxy, I'd say that sounds like a cartel and they can be awful. Any slavery in Nassau?" Cassian says thoughtfully as he drinks some more rum.

"That's foolish of them. It shouldn't matter who's giving the orders if they know what they're doing."

In the Rebellion, gender and species don't matter, what you can do comes first.

[readsthearticles]

"Well...yeah. There's plenty of slave business," he says, looking a little uncomfortable. Billy's theoretically against slavery, but in practice, well. It's just there, and the Walrus has captured slave-traders and sold on the slaves more often than they've freed them. "--And right, that's what I tell my crew. You don't have to like it, but Miss Guthrie knows what she's doing."

[childofrebellion]

"Its hard to truly get rid of it. Your crew? You captain the ship you mentioned, the Walrus?"

Cassian thinks no one should be a slave but he also knows how deep slavery is in the fabric of the Empire.

[exiled_heir_of_the_eighth]

Sahaal comes in from the firing range outside, like every Wednesday, carrying a crate of ammunition in one hand and his bolter in the other. Cleaning unguents have stained his tunic, and the smell of fycelene propellant clings to him.

He heads over to the bar, and realises, to his slight surprise, that there's someone working behind it. Not a patron he recognises, either, and surprisingly big for a mortal man.

"Evening. Is there anything specific on offer tonight?"

[readsthearticles]

Well that's a distinctive-looking individual. Billy's not going to stare, but he does allow himself a considering look at the weaponry before answering.

"There's whatever I can find," he says, friendly enough. "This one's rum, and that's some kind of wine, and that one's...something else."

[exiled_heir_of_the_eighth]

"Right."

Sahaal pulls out a stool and sits down, leaving the crate by his feet. The bolter goes on the countertop, the skull-mouthed barrel pointing away from the barman. Best not to strike fear into those who pour your drinks.

"Just some of that rum, please."

[readsthearticles]

The barkeeper doesn't look particularly fear-stricken as he pours out the rum, but he appreciates the good manners. He nods to the bolter. "So what's that?"

[exiled_heir_of_the_eighth]

"A Tigris-pattern bolter. It works on gyrojet principles, firing .75 calibre shells. Custom forged on Nostramo, during the waining years of the 30th Millennium. Not my favourite weapon, but it's got a certain sentimental value."

That, and he's carried it this far. To leave it behind after all these years would be wrong, somehow.

Sahaal takes a careful sip of the rum. "This is good. Thank you."

[readsthearticles]

"Nice. Sounds like it's been with you a while." Billy respects that. A good gun is a good friend. (Most handguns, in his experience, only fire about half the time, and their aim is shit. But in theory anyway, a good gun is a good friend.)

He treats himself to a splash of rum too. "Yeah, this place has good rum."

[exiled_heir_of_the_eighth]

"A couple of centuries."

Give or take ten thousand years, but he doesn't count the time spent trapped on his ship.

Sahaal smiles. "This place has good everything. One of the benefits of the multiverse, and having a proprietor who can source from it." He taps on Bar's surface, with as much respect as possible.

[readsthearticles]

"Couple of....."

Yeah. Okay.

"Yeah? I just got here. Sounds like the proprietor is pretty mysterious--this Landlord."

[exiled_heir_of_the_eighth]

He nods. "That he is. I've never met anyone here who's met him, or even knows anything about him.

Sahaal taps his glass, the dark rum swirling inside. "But he has excellent taste in alcohol."

[abitofawildman]

"I have no idea what all of those make, but I'm willing to find out if you are," Bumi says with a chuckle from his place at Bar.

[readsthearticles]

"All together? Christ, that's like drinking the barmaid's pitcher at the end of the day..." Look, he's seen Eleanor Guthrie cleaning up leftovers. But hell, there's people who'll drink anything. "Sure, mate. You pour, and I'll get the glasses."

[abitofawildman]

"You want me to pour?"
But before Billy can change his mind, Bumi begins to arrange he bottles into an organizational method of his own devising.

Be afraid.
Be very very afraid.

[readsthearticles]

"Wait, I--"

yeah

he didn't think that one through, did he

Resigned, he watches the bottles. "--meant to say that the other way around."

[abitofawildman]

No, he most certainly did not.

"Don't worry, I know what I'm doing," is what he says right before he offers a smile that not even his own mother would trust.
And she's a pretty trusting sort of person.

"I'll have you know I once beat an a waterbender at a bartending competition. During the full moon, even."

[curlytop]

[ooc: Happy to let the intro thread drop! It can get repetitive for sure. :)]

"Does this mean we can make up our own specials?" George asks, sliding onto a stool.

While he knew that people did sometimes actually tend bar, Billy is the first person he's actually seen doing it. How fun!

[readsthearticles]

"Fine with me. I've got no idea what a special is supposed to be. This bottle is rum, though, I know that much. That one's wine, that one's whisky, that one's...green..."

[curlytop]

"Ooh, give me the green one," he says, and then shakes his head. "Actually. Maybe not." He gives the bottle a look like someday, my friend.

"I'll do a rum," he says instead. "Seems appropriate."

[readsthearticles]

There will no doubt be more opportunities for Mystery Green Drinks. They're a staple in this sort of setting.

"Rum it is." He pours, and then considers. He's supposed to be tending bar, not just filling cups. "...Want some lime and sugar in that?"

[curlytop]

"All right, then," George says with a grin. He's young yet, only just experimenting on what you can put in alcohol. "Is that how you usually have it?"

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric comes into the bar from the garden, barefoot with daisy chains in his long blonde hair. In a loose linen tunic that falls to his knees, Sinric is easy to mistake for a woman.

He smiles to the rather muscular individual behind the bar. "Beautiful day."


{ooc: happy to drop the thread with Jay.}

[readsthearticles]

"Yeah? I haven't been out yet. There...is an out, right?"

He'd be faintly concerned for the safety of a girl like that in a tavern--is faintly concerned--but who knows, she's probably tougher than she looks.

[thewidewideworld]

"Oh yes." Sinric lights up with a smile. "A lake and gardens. And in the mountain beyond there are many beautiful glades and private places. Perfect for wandering."

[readsthearticles]

"Huh. Anyone living out there?"

Oh, right, tending bar. He waves a hand towards the bottles. "Get you anything?"

[thewidewideworld]

"The mermaid of the lake and the demon rabbits of the hills. But other than that, I don't believe so. People got off to explore sometimes. Or journey into the Labyrinth and are not seen for some weeks. But I don't know if anyone who has made a home outside the Bar."

"Oh, forgive me." Sinric nods. "A glass of wine would be lovely, if you would be so kind."