everybody comes to delight's.

[bekommen]

Who: Nick Rivenna, your friendly neighborhood bartender, and open to the rest of Hadriel's residents.
What: Monthly open log for the bar! Come have drinks, chat, possibly make poor decisions ... just keep the fisticuffs outside.
Where: Delight's Bar
When: Throughout September
Warnings: Just alcohol to start, obviously - will be edited as needed.

Well, it's not like there's much in the way of competition. Of course everybody would come to Delight's.

Comments

nick | open | prose or brackets

[bekommen]

You may recognize the girl behind the bar - maybe you've seen her previous broadcasts on the network, or maybe you're a regular fixture at this bar. Regardless of whether this is your first time here or your hundredth, her question to you is the same:

"What can I get you?"

[hearthebell]

[L didn't wander in here with any particular intent or goal. It's more that he feels like a ghost lately, ignoring the kinds of boundaries he used to self-impose and feeling the fear of being in public less intensely. Why should he, when he is functionally no one here. The exception is to two young geniuses who are just as self-involved and immature as he is, which makes for a very strange dynamic at their shared home.

His information-gathering is disorganized but earnest, when he goes about it. He's learning what he can about Hadriel and its gods on his own time, drifting between locations and people like a shabby shadow, scuffing his feet and continuing to wear the same set of clothes that are steadily growing dingier and starting to accumulate holes. He's not a drinker, and never has been, but there's no one here who would recognize and judge him for his presence, and what matters more is the simple act of someone preparing something for him that will taste good and distract him from the reality that he's really and truly lost here.

He tucks his legs under him. He has never sat at a bar before, and doesn't know what to order or how to behave.]

Something good. Something that tastes sweet?

[Something filling, the gaunt and hungry-looking creature clearly hopes.]

[bekommen]

[It's not the strangest request she's ever heard, and he's not the strangest person she's seen from the back side of the bar, either. Plenty of sketchy-looking types frequented the (mostly dive) bars where she worked back in Chicago.]

Something sweet ...

[She turns around and studies the shelves of bottles behind her, finally selecting one that is a neon shade of pink.]

How d'you feel about pomegranates? I think that's what this is supposed to taste like, anyway. Sweeter than real pomegranates.

[hearthebell]

[L looks strange, shabby and tired, but at least not like someone who is going to cause any trouble or be any danger. Hell, most non-children could probably knock him over without too much trouble, if they wanted or needed to.]

Pomegranates?

[He laughs. It's a wavery, broken sound. It seems like he never learned how, properly.]

Isn't that what Persephone ate in the underworld, that kept her bound to it forever? Maybe I shouldn't.

[bekommen]

[Nick smiles, which looks feral and mostly out of place on her.]

My ex told me that story. Pretty fucked up, huh?

[So that's a no on that bottle. She replaces it on the shelf and stares down the rest of the choices.]

Prob'ly wouldn't do anything to you, though. I mean, we're pretty much already stuck in Hell with no hope of ever leaving.

[hearthebell]

[Smiles never really put L at ease. This one's no different; maybe it's the woman's strong features, or something wild about her countenance, but either way, he doesn't return it.

Fortunately, on his own pale face, that does seem fairly natural.]

I don't go to bars, so I wouldn't know, but I thought that a big part of a bartender's job was trying to cheer people up.

[bekommen]

What, you don't find me cheerful?

[She laughs at her own joke. Cheerful is something Nick has never once been accused of being.]

The drinks are what does the cheering, usually. The bartender serves the drinks and listens to people talk.

[hearthebell]

I'm hard-pressed to find much of anything cheerful, these days. Not that it's important when the truth is what matters...

[He still might regret it. It's difficult to tell; everything concerning emotions in this particular soul seems somewhat conflicted by default.]

Is that why people drink alcohol, typically? There's nothing left, so you might as well just try to drown out the remaining ash and dust?

[bekommen]

Jesus, pal. You're like a walking Smiths song.

[She laughs again, though not unkindly. Unhappy types are Nick's kind of people. His analysis isn't wrong, either.]

Yeah, you could say that. Sometimes it's just about having a good time with friends, but a lot of the time, especially for people who are at a bar drinking alone, it's a distraction. A way to feel something else besides how fucked-up you are at the time, y'know?

[Nick would know - she is one of those people.]

You got somethin' you're tryin' to drown out, here?

[hearthebell]

[He stares blankly, failing to get the reference. Even if the Smiths existed in his world, he's not much for music, and has certainly never been compared to a song as a positive or a negative.

He knows, deep in his core, that it's irresponsible to be here, even considering this. He also knows that in the grand scheme of things, it doesn't matter. Still, his shoulders curl defensively at the way she probes, gently but skillfully, for information. She almost had him, there.]

Why do you want to know?

[bekommen]

It's part of the job. Bartenders are good listeners.

[She half-smiles at him, like she's just told him a fantastic secret.]

Also helps me gauge if I'm gonna have to cut you off.

[hearthebell]

[His eyes are glassy and painted with a cold, distant lacquer.]

I wouldn't know. I've never done this before, so I don't know how it affects me.

[bekommen]

Wait ...

[The humor drops from Nick's face immediately.]

You're saying you've never had any alcohol at all before? Ever?

[hearthebell]

[L is a seasoned liar, but not when he doesn't have to be. Moments where he can be honest and tell the truth are rare, but he likes them. Needs them, even. Who better to unload on a little bit than this bartending stranger? There's not exactly harm in such an innocuous piece of information.]

No. Never ever. I suppose it's unusual, by the time a person is my age. But it's the truth.

[bekommen]

[Well, shit. First-timers are always unpredictable; they could end up puking all over the floor, starting a rage-induced fight, or sobbing into their drinks with equal probability. Nick's pretty much seen it all by now, and there's no discernable pattern. She exhales an audible puff of breath through her front teeth.]

Well, I guess at least you're not here with some friend pushing a thousand drinks to get you completely shitfaced your first time. You'll wanna start slow with something light until you figure out your tolerance. Did y'eat anything recently?

[fuckthechicken]

It's a bar. You can bet Sandor has been here before. His coping mechanism for dealing with this world -- fight shit and drink himself stupid.

"Ale." Comes the answer as he hunches over the bar, watching her work. "So what's in it for you? Serving here. Ain't like most of us got much when it comes to gold."

[bekommen]

A nice, uncomplicated order - Nick appreciates those the most. She shrugs as she busies herself with filling a glass for him, then sliding it to him across the surface of the bar.

"Keeps me outta trouble." She grins, passing off her answer as a joke, but it's closer to the truth than he might know. Without something like a job to keep her occupied, Nick's history here shows that she's more inclined to sit on the opposite side of the bar and make poor life decisions while increasingly drunk. She too relies on drinking and fighting as coping mechanisms.

"And I get to meet such fine, upstanding citizens as yourself. Can't do that if I'm holed up at home alone, right?"

[fuckthechicken]

His lips quirk in amusement after her compliment, and he takes the glass -- raising it as though proposing some celebratory toast before knocking back a huge swig. "I'd think taking on that kind of job would get you into more trouble. It isn't pretty, what happens to most girls working at taverns when a bunch of drunks come in."

Sandor, man of very few words most often, is feeling a bit chatty today. Perhaps it's because someone can only keep to themselves in a place for so long before it drives them to seek out company. "But being here as you are and voluntarily running this place as you are -- I'd say you can probably handle yourself better than most give you credit for."

And if she can't, well, there's a giant swordsman here -- ready to show his bite's far worse than his bark if someone got stupid enough. Least he can do to show his appreciation for the booze.

apologies for this terrible lag, gmail started filing my notifs in spam :c

[bekommen]

At the bar where she worked in Chicago, there were a few bikers who were regulars - tough, grizzled old men, worn by time and the hard lives they lived. They were typically those who left the most generous tips, and rarely caused problems, despite their appearances. Nick can't help being reminded of them now as she finds herself smiling over what he says.

"Yeah, don't worry about me. I've broken up my fair share of barfights. The trick's knowing the right places to aim for."

Having a newly found set of attacks and a terrifying monster form doesn't hurt her chances of winning, either.

[heartintheflames]

Rin looks up, mildly startled and confused. He's wandered into the bar before. He's not too sure what possessed him to come again. Regardless, being asked for his order throw's him a little off-guard.

"Uhh... A milk, please?" He says oddly, not sure how odd a look he's going to get. Still, he figures it better not to ask for alcohol at his age, unless he wants a weirder look thrown at him.

He stares at the lady behind the bar, expecting some form of retaliation, whether for his age or request. Hell, he might even get thrown out.

[bekommen]

Even though there's no age limit for drinking in Hadriel, Nick wouldn't serve alcohol to someone who looks as young as Rin without question. But there's no reason to keep him out of the bar, either, as long as he isn't causing trouble or starting fights. She raises an eyebrow at the request.

"Don't know if we've got any milk - not a whole lotta cows in Monstercave City, y'know?" She frowns in thought, studying the stores of bottles behind the bar. "You got a second choice?"

[ushahin]

"Something sweet, perhaps?" The soft voice comes from the tall man who's taken a seat at the bar. In person, the shattered bones of his body are in much greater contrast to the parts of him that are whole. He dresses in a strange combination of medieval clothes and whatever he could find in Hadriel's shops.

Fetch is perched on his right shoulder, his beady eyes looking at everything and judging it all according to the raven's sensibilities. Nick might have to tell him to take the bird outside. For right now, he's hopped off Ushahin's shoulder and is busy pecking at various objects left on the bar top.

[bekommen]

"But no alcohol, right?" She remembers what he said from before, about alcohol and his powers being a bad combination. Nick busies herself with mixing the closest approximation of a Shirley Temple as can be made with what's available behind the bar. It's not quite the same combination of flavors, tangerine and strawberry with a hint of freshly cut grass, but it is sweet.

She gives the bird a wary glance as she slides the drink across the surface of the bar toward Ushahin, but says nothing - for now. "Nice of you to come visit, by the way."

[ushahin]

"Correct." He waits and watches with interest as she mixes his drink. The last time he was in a proper bar was ages ago. All of Urulat had known his face and keeping his glamour up for hours on end was a tiring process. He takes a small sip, likes what he finds, and takes a larger one. Since arriving in Hadriel, he's developed quite the sweet tooth. "I thought I should see how you were keeping yourself out of trouble."

Fetch finds a crumb of something interesting and swallows it before he hops over and looks up at Nick, his eyes bright and judging with a preternatural stare. He's a very intelligent bird and wants to know more about this new person that is so clearly friends with Ushahin.

Ushahin | OTA

[ushahin]

Ushahin normally doesn't come to the bar. As he once explained to Nick, there's little he finds entertaining in watching the denizens of Hadriel while away their hours with alcohol numbing their brains. Not that he plans to participate in such foolish action either. A psychic plus alcohol equals bad times for anyone close enough to be within range.

He's made an exception today for the reason that he's curious. He sits off by himself in a corner where he can watch all the comings and goings of the bar patrons, occasionally sipping at the glass of water in front of him. His mismatched eyes take in everyone around him and his mind catches the stray thoughts he can feel all around him.

One of them hits him particularly hard and he grimaces in pain as the thought ricochets around his mind. "I do wish you would stop that," he tells the person closest to him, as if they can help it if their thoughts are projecting too loudly for him.