(no subject)

[no-prisoner.livejournal.com]

Eddie comes out of the staff hallway, humming absently to himself, with an unusual number of shaving nicks, and a band-aid on a particularly nasty under the corner of his jaw.

Still! He did it all by himself, like a big boy!

He throws a towel over his shoulder and begins his research in the Bartender's Bible and attendent volumes, then chalks up the night's specials:

After Eighteen
Crimson Death
Leaning Tower

Somebody's pre-occupied. "Happy Hour is open, my fellow Milliwaysians. What's your poison?"

Comments

[awesome_lilly]

Lilly sees the specials and heads over.

"What up, sai? Can I get an After Eighteen?"

[no-prisoner.livejournal.com]

"That depends, have you got ID? And why do you talk like Valley Girl meets Jericho Hill?"

[awesome_lilly]

Lilly grins.

"Yes, I have ID. But no, I'm not twenty-one. However, as I am dead, the bar seems to have taken pity on me and serves me anyway. As for the way I talk, I'm from California and I've stolen slang from people I met here as well. That everything?"

[no-prisoner.livejournal.com]

Eddie shrugs. "If she's ok with it, she'll... you know, not turn it into Yoohoo."

He mixes the drink and hands it over. "I'm Eddie Dean."

[nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com]

"None of those sound very chocolaty." Ace comments idly as she finds her favorite barstool (not as high) and clambers on to it. It really sucks being short, some days.
"How goes?"

[no-prisoner.livejournal.com]

"After Eighteen is Kahlua and chocolate milk," Eddie defends himself. "All right. I'm learning how to shave all over again."

[nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com]

"Hook me up then." Kahlua and chocolate milk? Score. She even winces for his plight.
"Never could get the handle of most razors. They're fiddly."

[no-prisoner.livejournal.com]

"I never used to have much trouble," he says darkly, pouring the Kahlua and white creme de menthe together, then filling up the glass with chocolate milk. He tucks in a stirrer and slides it over to her.

[audieraines.livejournal.com]

Alcohol! Sweet nectar of the gods! Audrey flings herself on takes a seat at the bar.

"Which one do you suggest?"

[no-prisoner.livejournal.com]

"Depends on what you're looking for. After Eighteen's choco-booze, Kahlua and chocolate milk; Crimson Death is your basic girly vodka and soda, and Leaning Tower's basically a martini with orange bitters in it."

[audieraines.livejournal.com]

"Give me a Crimson Death please."

[no-prisoner.livejournal.com]

Eddie mixes the sticky red mixer and hands it over. "There you go. Eddie Dean."

[lastgunslinger]

That somebody might or might not be Roland.

He eyes the specials before sitting down.

He doesn't say a word.

[no-prisoner.livejournal.com]

Eddie gives him a silent nod.

He knows he fucked up.

[lastgunslinger]

Roland sits with his hands folded before him.

Calm. "Tea, if you'd not mind." Beat. "He's a húndàn. We've palavered on it, some -- Simon, and Alain, and Susan, and I. You're better. I expected better."

He will never, ever say that maybe Cuthbert would have been better in the role he gave Eddie.

Never.

[no-prisoner.livejournal.com]

Eddie pours the tea. His hands shake; but that's par for the course, now.

He sets it down carefuly in front of his dinh.

"I guess you did."

He know he fucked up. So why does he feel so damn stiff-necked now?

[honest-johns.livejournal.com]

Alain drops onto a barstool.

"Hile, Eddie."

Luckily, his English lettering is not yet advanced enough for him to easily read the specials -- he recognizes letters, but hasn't bothered to puzzle out the words.

[no-prisoner.livejournal.com]

Eddie nods. "Hile, Alain. How's things?"

[honest-johns.livejournal.com]

"I'm well. Been talking to the Serenity folken, some. You?"

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

*There's a Barman at the Bar.

He could use a fill-up of tequila, say thankya.*

[no-prisoner.livejournal.com]

Eddie nods to the boss, and gets down the tequila. "Hey. Week's up?"

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Yup. I swear, we got more visitors in a week than we've gotten since we moved. More weeping women and angry turtles and large aurors than you can shake a stick at.

*He sighs.*

How were things out here? Any trouble for you?

[iopenthings]

Door comes up to the bar.

"I usually get a raspberry russian, but I'm rather in the mood for something else, tonight. Suggestions?"

[no-prisoner.livejournal.com]

Eddie jerks his head at the specials. "If you like the raspberry side of that, the Crimson Death is raspberry, Jolt and vodka. If it's the Kahlua that makes you happy, you're better off with After Eighteen."

He offers his hand. "Eddie Dean."

[iopenthings]

"Door," she says, shaking his hand. "I think I'll go with the After Eighteen."