stay right here and save myself some trouble [open]

[couldusealaugh]

There's a young dark-haired woman surveying the outside of her bar - and, for the most part, she seems to be happy with what she's seeing right now. After the riot, she'd expected, at the very least, graffiti or other forms of vandalism to be decorating the outer shell of Luna. But the metal fence she pulls down at the end of every late night has

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[thehandsomeone]

Dean's been wandering around for a few hours at least, in no way ready to go back to the hotel yet. Things there are beyond complicated, and if there's one thing Dean's good at, it's avoiding the situation.

A bar seems as good a place as any to do that.

The bit of whiskey he had earlier has long worn off, and while he's not looking to get drunk, another drink wouldn't hurt. He takes note of the specials on the sign, grinning a little, and enters. The place is pretty empty for now, but there's a woman behind the bar sipping from a glass of wine.

"Hey there," Dean says, stepping up to the bar. "Sampling from the merchandise?" he teases. "What would the boss think?"

Excuse Dean. He's kind of an idiot where good-looking women are involved.

[couldusealaugh]

The door's been open since she left it there, which means there's no telltale jingling of the bell above it to signal approaching customers.

However, she can sense him - and smell him, too - long before she actually catches a glimpse of his shadow. It's an interesting combination, too, she notes. Gunsmoke, a hint of whiskey, and something else overwhelming her senses, too - another person, if her nose isn't deceiving her. But the less obvious expression - the one he's sending out behind that teasing smirk of his - suggests he's anything but happy about it.

"Lucky for me, I am the boss," she answers, taking another sip before she sets the wineglass down in front of her.

"Can I get you anything?"

[thehandsomeone]

"Nice gig," Dean comments, taking a better look around the place. He doesn't want to get too comfortable in somewhere he's not familiar with, but everything seems all right.

He pauses, like he's actually considering something. "Well, you know, those Jell-o shots sound mighty appealing, but. Think I'll stick with whiskey. Double. Neat," he says, and takes a seat at the bar.

[couldusealaugh]

"Coming up," Avery answers, spinning on her heel to find that familiar square-ish bottle with the black label. It finds her hand easily, and a small glass tumbler follows, into which she pours the whiskey.

She sets the glass down in front of him and leans over the bar, fingertips idly running along the stem of her wineglass.

"And it doesn't look too bad, does it? After that riot last week, I was afraid I'd show up and find broken windows, spray paint everywhere."

[thehandsomeone]

"Thanks," Dean says, raising the glass briefly to her in a mock toast. He takes a sip then, feeling the familiar burn down his throat.

"Yeah, no kidding," he agrees, nodding. "This town? I'd expect that anyway, at this point. Things here are crazy."

Which is sort of the understatement of the century, really. Dean is not a big fan of Chicago right now.

[couldusealaugh]

She lifts her wine, too, mimics his movements with another sip of Merlot.

"That what's got you here drinking so early?" she asks. "Now, I'm not gonna complain; it equals business for me.

"Blame it on curiosity, I guess."

[thehandsomeone]

He tries to bury a grimace in another sip of whiskey, a bigger one this time.

"Not exactly," he says, setting down his glass a little harder than intended. A few apocalypses would have to come and go before Dean could even start to bring up what has him drinking right now, so he says instead, "Let's just say things are... complicated."

He shrugs it off like it's no big deal, then leans forward a little and asks, "So. You had this place long?"

[couldusealaugh]

If there's one thing Avery's learned as a bartender, it's not to pry. Alcohol tends to loosen tongues, whether people want to talk or not. The best thing to do right now, she thinks, is wait.

"'Bout a year now," she replies, having no problem with changing the subject. "I tended here before I took over from the original owner."

[thehandsomeone]

Dean's not planning on ever getting drunk enough to tell exactly what's on his mind - alcohol poisioning is no way to go - but hey, she might learn a few other details about him.

"Yeah?" he asks. "Must be a pretty good job, then. 'm lookin' for one myself..."

The Rift's brought Dean a lot of good things - his brother, for one -, but it's kind of put an end to the usual methods of cash-earning. Credit card scams and hustling pool don't really work out too well when you stay in one place.

[couldusealaugh]

Listening to people overshare - it's just one of the many things listed under her job description.

"Well, I'll bet there's at least a couple places in need of new hires," she answers. "This place among 'em."

Part of the trouble of keeping a bar that caters to all types is actually holding on to her decent bartenders. She likes to refer to it as a difference of opinion.

[thehandsomeone]

"Oh yeah?" Dean grins. "Think you could put in a good word with the manager for me?"

Flirting with the boss is probably not the best foot to start out on, but it's kind of second nature to Dean. Or first nature. Whichever.

[couldusealaugh]

There may be some amusement that flickers over her features, but if there is, it's very brief.

"You got any experience?"

[thehandsomeone]

Dean considers saying yes; he's been so many aliases - and faked so many more complicated occupations - that he's pretty sure he could manage it.

Whiskey, however, makes him a little more truthful. "Not as such. But I'm a quickstudy if there ever was one."

[couldusealaugh]

A quick study, he says. And at least he doesn't look like a complete idiot compared to some of the others Avery's been unfortunate enough to hire.

"Well, you'll be a pretty piece behind the bar, at least," she admits.

[thehandsomeone]

He's usually smarter than he sounds, too, if that's any reassurance.

Dean ducks his head at that, finishes off his drink. "That mean I'm hired?"

Job interviews, he's pretty sure, usually work a little differently, but hey - it's Chicago. Nothing's normal here.

[couldusealaugh]

"Why not?"

A particularly wolfish grin follows this answer, and once again, she reaches for that wineglass, finishing it off as if it's some kind of way to seal the deal.

"How soon can you start?"