tushanshu_logs | Grand Opening!

Grand Opening!

Characters: Bryn Zethir and EVERYONE!
Date: Friday Evening, September 13th
Location: Bryn's Unnamed Bar
Situation: It's time for a grand opening!
Warnings/Rating: None expected but label your own threads if necessary.

After weeks of scrimping and saving, planning, organizing, working every day to get everything just so, Bryn's tavern is finally ready to open. There were times she wasn't sure it was ever going to happen, because what did she know about running a business, having only been a customer all of her adult life? There was still a chance that this would spectacularly flop and she would be broke and back to square one again. But tonight isn't the night to worry about that. One thing Bryn does know how to do is throw a party.

So, the two story has been scrubbed and polished within an inch of its life. The lanterns inside and out are burning with fresh candles. The bar is fully stocked, the kitchen has been bustling all day with food preparations, and for tonight, the stage is occupied by some of Keeliai's finest and liveliest kedan musicians. At one corner corner of the first floor, a table with ten jars can be found. Before each jar is a suggested name for the new tavern, and baskets of smoothly polished pebbles to be used to cast votes. Each attendee is welcome to vote for the name of their choosing, and Bryn will call her tavern by whichever one is the most popular.

All that's missing are her guests, whom she hopes to keep as customers over the coming weeks, months, or however long Bryn's stay in the city is.

-=-=-=-=-

Poll #14201

Open to: Registered Users, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 27

View Respondents

Bryn's tavern needs a name, and the following options have been suggested! Every character attending gets a single vote and the one with the most votes will be the one picked!

View Answers

Bar In-Between
2 (7.4%)

The Brazen Pack-Beast
1 (3.7%)

The Brazen Turtle
10 (37.0%)

The Carapace
1 (3.7%)

Chelonauts
0 (0.0%)

The Frisky Swizard
8 (29.6%)

Iron Turtle
2 (7.4%)

Nowhere
2 (7.4%)

The Red Lion
1 (3.7%)

That Place
0 (0.0%)

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You're not a very big girl, Eponine! There may have to be a drink limit for you, but he wasn't going to let a beautiful young lady be without a drink tonight. That would just be rude, and Dick grinned, leaning on the bar.

"Definitely different, but the kedan do a pretty good job of having some kind of Earth equivalent stuff." Really, if anything, most of this stuff was a higher proof. "Well, we've got a ton of stuff to offer. What kind of stuff do you like to drink?"

Big difference between sweet and sour, strong and weak, mixed versus straight.

If he wanted to limit her, he could try. But she'd been drinking since she could remember, and was quite sure she could drink almost anyone here under the table.

"What do I like?" She repeated, smirking at the bartender. "That's a good question, isn't it? What I like and what I drink are two very different things, m'sieur. I like anything that will let me leave sobriety and the world behind. I drink mostly wine and ales."

Dick had to laugh at that, because this girl was definitely a spitfire. Such an old fashioned phrase, but he'd heard his dad use it enough times to really consider it something he would want to say.

"Touche, mademoiselle, touche. I think I can help with the drunk part, but let's be careful with it for the first time," He grinned at her. "Because I hope you're going to be a regular patron, am I right?"

As he said that, he was grabbing a glass, filling it with one of the beers they had on hand, before setting it on the bar. He then picked up two glasses, filling one with vodka, the other with whiskey.

"Try them out, tell me what you like or don't like. Then I can figure out what will make you drunk and what you like."

Spitfire was certainly a way to describe her.

"You do not need to call me mademoiselle, m'sieur. Simply Éponine will do." She returned his grin with a nod. "I plan on it, though you do not need to be careful with me. I have been drinking a long time." He however, probably did not believe it, not a tiny girl like her.

She watched as he poured, taking an experimental sip of the beer first. With another nod, she reached for the clear liquid and bringing it to her mouth, she had to wrinkle her nose. All the same, she tossed it back, coughing a bit before taking another sip of the beer. "Which one was that? I have not had it before!" But she hardly waits for the answer before going for the second one, the whiskey. Another shot, and more beer, but this time, she smiles. "That second one. That is the one I prefer. I've had drinks like it before in Paris."

"Eponine, then," Dick gave a little bow of his head with a smile. "Call me Dick. It's nice to meet you." He leaned against the bar and waited as she tried the beer, then each shot. She did know what she was doing, though he might need to have her wait for the rest of the beer, if she wanted the whiskey.

"That one? That's vodka. Usually goes into mixed drinks, but straight up is still pretty potent." The second one though, okay, whiskey.

"Whiskey? Okay, I can get you that. Stop drinking the beer, though. The saying is 'Liquor before beer, have no fear. Beer before liquor, never sicker'." He grinned, grabbing a new glass and pouring in some more whiskey, straight up.

Eponine blushed, hardly used to men being not only kind but flirting with her. Perhaps it was the fact that she now had access to a shower and, well, clothing that was no longer rags. There was a spark of life back in her, more than there had been before. "It is lovely to meet you as well, Dick." And he was handsome.

She pauses, the beer half-way to her mouth. "I have never heard that, but I assure you, I have no fear." Eponine, who had never had enough in her stomach to warrant throwing it up after drinking.

Dick felt that all women should be treated nicely. Not as if they were little kids, not as if they were property. Not based on what they owed to him, or anything like that. It was just being kind, something Dick did all the time.

Also, he did flirt. She was very beautiful.

"Oh, no, it's not about having fear or not," Dick laughed. "It's just that I don't want you to get sick on me after having only two drinks." He plucked the beer glass away from her so swiftly that it was over before it happened, and set down the next glass of whiskey in front of her.

"There we go. This'll be here when you're ready to stop."

In Eponine's scattered, addled mind, flirting and kindness were seen as one in the same. There was no room for her to differentiate. And what a tragedy it was.

"I will not get sick from two of your drinks, Dick," Eponine said as she reached for the next glass of whiskey. "It would take much to get me sick, I assure you." As such, she took another sip of the whiskey, nodding pleasantly.

"It burns. I like that."

In his case, it usually was kindness. Dick was just that kind of person; the good hearted kind. Even to the people he fought against, he didn't look to kill them. The one time it happened... he didn't pull the trigger. But he didn't stop it, either.

He shook his head. "I misspoke again, don't worry about it." He leaned down on the counter, elbows on it with his head in one of his hands, slightly tilted. "Okay, anything that burns. I'll remember that. So, what do you do? I'd ask you where you were from, but France seems like a pretty easy answer to get."

"I will not. But you are forgiven." She smiles at him, finding herself leaning a bit over the counter as well. It's easy to keep her eyes on him.

"Paris was the last place I lived. As for what I do..." Good question. "I survive. I lie and steal. I do much of what is asked of me. There is no good word to describe what it is I do."

"You have my thanks, then." Dick smiled easily, giving a little bow of his head before looking up, looking her in the eyes. "I've been to Paris before. Butchered the language a little bit, but it helped me out because of it."

Pretending to be a waiter and messing up his French to get close to the wife of a cop in the mob's pocket. Yeah, he's been to Paris. But her answer. Well. He was a little taken off guard, but not as much as she might think.

"You said it yourself. You survive. It's not the easiest of professions, but I know how it goes. You should have seen how many wallets I could get when I was a kid."

"You'll have to tell me that story," she said, her lips peeling back in a smile. "I don't think I miss Paris." Not where she came from, at least. The slums were terrible, especially in her day and age.

She watches him for his reaction carefully, and takes it in stride. Raising an eyebrow, she keeps that smile on her lips. "Is that so, Dick? I'm sure I could get more than you." And it was more than just pickpocketing. But she'd be quiet about that. "But here I have money. I have no need for theft. It has been a long time since I have been able to say that."

He laughed. "If you become a true regular, I'll tell you the story. It's one of many, though, I'm a pretty good storyteller."

He just continued to smile, tilting his head slightly to look at her. Like some things could be seen from a different angle if he actually turned his head. Sometimes things looked better upside down.

"I don't doubt you could. But I'm glad that you don't have to here. Sometimes, people just need a break. There's nothing wrong with that."

"It wouldn't take much to get me to become a regular at a bar with such wonderful service and handsome staff. But the promise of a story sweetens it all the more. I believe you shall see much more of me, Dick." She smiles over the glass of her beer, watching him as he watched her.

The sorts of people here were quite astounding. And she thought she'd seen most types in Paris. How wrong she was.

"Thank you," she said. "I doubt I will be able to do anything else. But I shall try. And then, m'sieur Dick, we shall see, will we not?" She leans forward slightly, propping her elbow on the bar.

"I really hope I do. Just come in suddenly, I always have the better stories when I'm caught off guard." Dick laughed, picking up one of the glasses that had been soaking in the sink off to the right, and starting to dry it. There were a few, and they were easy to do.

"Hey, you never know!" He grinned broadly at her, setting the glass to the side before putting an elbow on the bar. "I guess we will. Maybe you should make a list, put down all your skills, and see what fits best. Like a resume, except you can cross things out."

"And that is how I will get your story from you, Dick." She smiles, and takes another drink of her beer. It was far better than anything she'd had in Paris.

"A resume?" Darling, what the hell is that? "I'm quite good at finding things, delivering what needs to be delivered. I'm light on my feet as I'm sure you can imagine." She finishes off the glass. "I'll have more of that whiskey, if you don't mind."

Giving a laugh, he grabbed a cup and poured some ice into it. "We'll see, we'll see."

Though he is a little concerned, for a moment, about the resume bit, but then he's reminded that he's living on a giant turtle<.i> and disbelief goes away. "A resume is a list of skills, with references that people can get in touch with, so they can hear from others ho good your skills are."

Basically a resume, right? "Did you ever think about a delivery service?" Dick nods, taking the used glass and getting out another. This time he adds in a little ice, to cool it down, see if she prefers it better that way or not.

"Or dancing? You need to be light on your feet for that." Hm, what else... "Have you ever thought of joining a circus?"

Eponine raised an eyebrow. "There is no one here who could account for my skills, unless it was for my ability to stop bullets with my hand." She laughs at the thought, the sound morbid to her own ears, her eyes turned down to look at the scar on the palm of her hand.

"A delivery service," she repeats, looking at the ice suspiciously. When he sets the glass down, she does not pick it up. "I did much of that when I was in Paris, in a manner of speaking. I do like to dance, I have found, but I am not trained. And- a circus? No, I have no sort of skill that could be used there. Nor is there one here, as far as I know." Still, she laughs.

The new glass is filled, and she gingerly reaches a hand out, touching the strange cube. It's cold to the touch, and she gasps. "That is ice!" She's from 1832, they didn't have ice commercially avaliable for the poor.

That seems to be a way to say 'yes, hello, I died', so... when she looks down at her hand, he looks too. The cliche about how some wounds never heal is something that he's heard so many times, but he also fully agrees with it. Scars show that the wound has healed, but he seriously doubts it ever will to yourself.

"No, there isn't one here... yet. One day, I'll bring Haly's here. Actual Haly's, not just a construct." Kyle got what the place looks like, but the circus has never been what the buildings look like. It's the people. Always the people.

"I'm sure we can think of something for you. But if you've done the delivery service, then you must be pretty good, right? Maybe you could be a manager or something." Yeah, she could be a manager. Or a shift supervisor. Something like that?

But that is... kind of cute, actually. Dick just grins.

"Yup! That's ice. You can have as much of it as you want, but it makes things taste worse the more it melts."

She frowns slightly, chewing on her bottom lip as she picks up the ice cube, feeling it in her hand, despite the cold. She knows what ice feels like, she's lived without a home in the cold of winter. She'd slept along the banks of the Seine. "Haly's is your cirque?" She asks, wanting to make sure she's not getting something drastically wrong. She was a smart girl, and enjoyed proving it.

She considered this. "It was... not typical delivery, Dick," she explains. It was closer to scouting, bringing letters, doing what those she delivered the letter to needed her to do. But it was something she was good at, so perhaps there was a place she could be used. "My family owned an inn, in Montfermeil. I would have worked there when I grew, had we not lost it."

She's closed her hand over the ice, and the cold water melts down on to the table. "Does it! How strange. It is so clean and- it is not bad to eat, is it?" She's concerned, understandably. "The water was boiled, yes?"

"Yeah, that's what it was called. Called because of the guy who owned it, it'd been in his family forever." It was everyone's home, and if things had worked out differently, Dick would be working for his son right now. And that would have been a good life, he's certain of it. But you don't go back to normal life after the things he'd been through. Even when normal life wasn't really normal by other standards.

Maybe something she could understand, to a degree? How do you go back to what you're expected to do, after having done certain things?

"Okay." Dick gives a nod. So not regular delivery, but something else. He felt like it was a... not quite a mission, to help her out with this. But he wanted to, even if it was just coming up with ideas.

"Maybe you could do something like that, again? Working at an inn, or working at a place sort of like this? You'll find a plethora of jobs in these kinds of places." He smiles, bringing out a napkin for her. "Don't worry, it's perfectly clean, and good to eat."

Picking up a piece, he plopped into his mouth, crunching it. "But watch out, because chewing ice is bad for your teeth."

And she could understand it to a degree. Once her family had moved to Paris, there was no returning to their life at the inn. There was no way that even now she could become an upstanding citizen, redeem herself for all of the horrors she'd committed. But, she couldn't say that. Instead, she just nodded. "Ah, I shall remember that." Haley's Circus. Strange name for a circus, she supposed, but what was a normal name for something like that?

"Perhaps I could. I was a child then, but I helped. My father taught me to do math, to help him take care of the numbers, and my mother had me helping in the kitchen." She was their little angel at the time. "I can pour wine and beer, of course. Quite well," she said with a knowing wink, before accepting the napkin.

She had to pause at that. "Bad for my teeth? I do not have good teeth to begin with." Dental care in 19th Century France? Hah.

It was nice for someone to be able to relate to that kind of thing. Because it wasn't just the people who donned masks and capes and fought crime, that can't go back to their regular lives. Once you were ripped apart from your home by cruel circumstance, it wasn't ever easy. Unfortunately.

"There we go. You should ask around, see if they could use an accountant, or a cook, or a waitress." Dick grinned. "Or a bartender. Women always get better tips, you know. It's a fact of life."

Her eyes lit up at that suggestion. "They do! Perhaps you shall have to teach me to bartend! And I can sample all the drinks as you do!"

"I'd love to, just don't steal my job!" Dick laughs, looking around. He really would not want to lose his job here. He just loved it too much.

"You do get to try them all, just not while you're on the job. But whenever we get something new? We get to try it first."

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jondrette - 2013-12-18 19:14 (UTC) - Expand

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