The Brazen Turtle Rides Again

[jirk]

Characters: Jim Kirk, Prussia and open!
Date: Feb 4th/5th
Location: The Brazen Turtle
Situation: Bar fight/general mingle log, with threadstarters for fun and shenanigans!
Warnings/Rating: Violence, maybe some swearing. Shouldn't get too intensive! See the post for threadstarts.

Comments

↬ BAR MINGLE

[jirk]

[It's the night of the Grand Re-opening, so to speak, of the Brazen Turtle. Jim's made a few adjustments/arrangements to the bar since his acquisition of it. The décor remains largely the same, but there's now a small model of the Enterprise that zooms about overhead thanks be to Korra. Alcohol starts being served at 19:00, or 7:00 PM, but feel free to say your character just dropped in for soup and sandwiches (or sushi!) earlier in the day. If they arrive after the cut-off time, everybody – so long as they're over eighteen, thanks – gets one free drink. Feel free to partake of the billiards tables, the dart boards, the quieter private lounges or watch the bartenders have fun with throwing around flaming shots. Employees are welcome to participate here as well, serving food and drinks or catching five on their breaks, mingle and mingle well! It's all good fun!]

[skybluejeep]

[Stiles is, thankfully, up and about after his broken leg. Seriously. Magic. He's starting to see its benefits big time. And he is hoppin'. Busy bussing tables, fetching silverware, and all the other things a busboy and barback is responsible for. Grab him and say hi?]

[veryveryfrightening]

[That's a big order he's made and Thor can't help but feel sorry for seeing the boy hop it over to him, so he gets up to grab the large tray. Well, large to Stiles anyway; Thor's kind of huge. Even in his "mortal" clothes.]

My apologies. Had I known you were lame, I would have ordered less. [But it's said so nicely.]

[skybluejeep]

[Stiles pauses, looking at the guest to his leg. It wasn't that bad, was it? He must have been noticeably limping then. Damn it.]

I'm not lame. I just...got a little hurt the other day, that's all. Still healing. So, you had the, uh...honey mead. Meads. Plural.

[And he plonks down three huge mugs of mead for the guy. Of course, he's also looking the guy up and down. Hello muscles. Damn it, that's unfair.]

[parallels]

[As promised, Clara is working in Jim's bar, half because she needs something more to do and half because he challenged her drink making skills. And like he'll she's going to take that lying down.

Armed with a little notebook with as many mixology recipes as she could find and a tight skirt and low cut blouse (hey she can cut loose sometimes if she's going to be a pub girl), she works the front bar with a wicked sense of determination.

Which is evidently pretty amusing (or charming) to some of the patronage who grin when she pulls out her notebook and consults it with a wrinkles nose before mixing the drink and so they're being rather friendly with their tips. Which confuses her and she keeps dropping the extra juulan into a bowl at the back of the bar.]

[pikes]

[ And as he's promised Jim, he's helping out at the bar himself. He'd probably occasionally help Spock out on the administrative side of things if he needs it - hint: he won't, he'll just senselessly bother him whenever he wants - but today, he's casually walking around the area, overseeing everything and occasionally glancing at the couple of rowdy kids during happy hour.

He eyes the tiny Enterprise model overhead with a short glance, before casting his eyes on the bar. Seeing a person he knows behind the counter, he goes to sit in front of her with a small smile on his face. ]

Moonlighting?

[parallels]

[Clara blushes a little at the comment and adjusts the top of her shirt to be a little more modest in front of the real Admiral. But she grins at back at him and leans against the bar to speak to him. It's nice to get a load off her heels anyway.]

Helping out a friend.

[langsyne]

[Scott has promised Jim absolutely nothing but he does feel indebted to Bryn, which is why he swings by the Brazen Turtle, mingling his way through the crowd and saying hello here and there.

The throng of grinning people by the bar catch his attention, followed by the familiar figure behind the bar, and soon enough he's placed himself directly in front of her, one eyebrow very much raised.]

A notebook. Really?

[C'mon Clara, you can do better than that.]

[parallels]

[She wrinkles her nose and puffs her cheeks into the very definition of a girlish pout. Scott, you're supposed to be on her side! This is betrayal at it's most terrible!]

I'm just checking my work to make sure I've mixed everything properly.

ota

[jondrette]

[Look who has a steady job! Why, it's Eponine, working behind the bar. She always assumed she'd wind up in such a position, as a child when she lived in Montfermeil and her family still owned the inn. But here she was, pouring drinks and flirting with the best of 'em.]

[superieure]

[Monet's here, just to have a look around. Ric's the one who spends his time in bars, but it can't hurt to be familiar with this establishment, especially since Jim owns it. She approaches the counter, dressed to kill as always, and leans over.]

What's the special for today?

[jondrette]

[Wow, Monet looks wonderful, even Eponine can admire that, and for a moment, a pang of jealousy at how beautiful this woman is hits her. But she swallows it.]

First drink for everyone is on the house, mam'oiselle. That I am told is the special.

[skybluejeep]

[Stiles is hauling in a big tray full of clean glasses for behind the bar. This is the hardest part of his job, because let's face it: boy's a spazz. So he's super careful with the handling of the glasses. And he grins up at Eponine as he works. And then pauses.]

...Hey. Have we met? I'm Stiles.

[jondrette]

[Eponine turns to him and frowns slightly.] I am Eponine. It is lovely to meet you, M'sieur Stiles. Stiles! Now that is an odd name. No, we have not met before, for I would remember that name. I have only just started working here.

[bonjourguignon]

[What a surprise! Though the image befit her, that Eponine was so much the sort of bawdy, rough-and-tumble woman whom Bossuet would often get well-acquainted in bars like these.]

Ah, a fine barmaiden you make, Eponine! You look as though a fish swimming acrobatics in its home waters, and your scales shine as brilliantly.

[jondrette]

Thank you, Bossuet! My parents owned an inn at Montfermeil- The Seargent at Waterloo- so the atmosphere befits me. Come! The first drink is on the house! What shall I pour for you?

[beunbroken]

[If Elizabeth is going to become friends with Jim Kirk, she's obviously going to go to the bar reopening. And because Booker is likely to make friends with everyone at the bar, too, simply because he happened to enjoy drinking. He can, of course, handle himself, but Elizabeth wants to make sure people know where he lives just in case something terrible happens. Not like he doesn't already have a hefty bar-tab running anyway.

So Elizabeth is floating around, making conversation. She has a glass of wine in one hand, but isn't doing too much drinking. The last time had... not had pretty results. At all. No, she'd rather dance.]

[washitaway]

[Booker may be able to handle himself well enough, but that doesn't mean he particularly wants to be out of Elizabeth's sight now that he has her back. He might be a bit of a barfly, but even more than that, he's Elizabeth's self-appointed protector.

He's her father, and he plans to be a responsible one. From here on out. So he's here, with her, sticking close, not really all that interested in most other people or conversations at this point. Simply enjoying being in her presence again.]

[beunbroken]

You can talk to other people, you know. Go out, make friends. [Elizabeth turns to her father, a hand on her hip and a raised eyebrow. They always have this conversation.]

I'm not going anywhere, and I'm going to be okay- this is Jim's bar. He's not going to let anything happen to his engineer's girlfriend on opening night.

[bonjourguignon]

[Bossuet would be stumbling upon the reopening after overhearing some chatter by some locals in the area, and would find himself seeing a variety of faces there, familiar and otherwise, to temper the impact of the fact that there was a model of some strange vehicle racing by overhead.

Once he'd grabbed a drink for himself, he'd be wandering about, taking in the rules of billiards, taking a shot at darts (though not without perhaps an accidental/potential injury to someone or himself).]

[jirk]

[And as he wanders past the pool table, Jim just happens to be racking up for a new round after having thoroughly trounced the competition. Everyone should know better than to challenge the boss on his home turf, but guess there's always a few people who didn't get the memo. Still, there's a bit of a lull and it's just possible he's scared off all comers, so he leans against the edge of the table and lifts a hand to flag Bossuet down. They only spoke briefly the once, but it doesn't cost him anything to be friendly.]

Hey, how'd the circumnavigation go?

[saisamour]

[Suffice to say wherever there is a Bossuet and a Pontmercy there is bound to be an almost-injury of some sort.]

Ah-!

[This one involving the dart whizzing past and dangerously close to Marius's ear. Perhaps he should not have given in to Courfeyrac's insistence that he join him in the Brazen Turtle and settled for spending the night with a book instead.]

[nowthatsfunny]

[Bryn had claimed, on their first meeting, that she was no good at keeping the books. That had been - mostly right, as far as Tess can tell. Frankly, she has her work cut out for her, but it's satisfying work, work she knows she's good at, and best of all? She gets to meet a lot of people this way. Suppliers, business people, shady and otherwise - the bar represents a really good cross-section of the turtle's population, of all walks of life.

Which is just the way Tess likes it.

She finishes up with her work for the day a little early, and has a bite to eat before the real festivities start. Once they do, she'll be nursing a drink - something like whiskey, or bourbon. Mostly she watches, a vaguely amused (if slightly haunted) look in her eyes.]

[veryveryfrightening]

[Sitting on a bar stool with numerous empty glasses in front of him is an incredibly sober Thor. Wearing a set of civilian clothing from Midgard, the ones he had received from Jane from what felt like ages ago, he's rapping his knuckles on the bar to order another drink. Thankfully, he knows his own strength and doesn't break the bar.

Sorry, no broken glasses on the floor this time. There's too much weighing on his mind in terms of family.]

[parallels]

Can I get you anything?

[Hello Thor, have a tiny bar tender here to look after you!]