(no subject)
Who: Pam, Sookie, Jason, Amelia, Faith, Sam(?), anyone else who'd like to join
Where: Merlotte's
When: Evening, well after sunset
Status: Incomplete
"Take the night off," Eric had said.
"Who's going to man the door?" she'd wanted to know.
"I'll get Thalia to do it," Eric had said.
And that was when Pam knew that something was rotten in Area Five. Thalia was...not a vampire you really wanted interacting with the humans; she was better put to use sitting at the bar looking aloof. He must really have been desperate, if Eric was willing to give her a night off and put Thalia in her place at the door.
Pam gave him A Look. "Eric. What do you want?"
He was caught, and he knew it. "That new bar in Arcadia is going to open soon."
"So? What do we care? They're all the way over in Arcadia, and nobody who's anybody lives there. It'll shut down in a month," Pam scoffed.
It was Eric's turn to give her A Look. "It's closer to Bon Temps than we are. I don't want to lose out on potential new customers who might decide Shreveport is too far a drive."
She sighed. "So what do I have to do tonight, Eric? Walk through the town wearing a goddamned sandwich board advertising Fangtasia?"
Eric tried hard not to smile; Pam could see the corners of his lips twitching just a little before he answered. "Relax, Pam. I just want you to find out where the locals go after work and hand out some flyers."
"That's all?" Pam tried not to be suspicious, but with Eric you always had to be suspicious no matter what, as he was the very definition of the phrase "ulterior motive".
"You don't even have to dress up if you don't want to." He held out a stack of blood-red flyers covered in black gothic lettering. "Now go. And take the company credit card with you, just in case."
"You must be in some serious need of business if you're letting me take the AmEx Gold." Pam laughed on her way out, stuffing the flyers in her oversized Louis Vuitton handbag; the credit card, however, she tucked into the breast pocket of her cardigan sweater, feeling more secure with it there rather than in her wallet amongst all the other rectangles of plastic and microchips that funded her wardrobe.
Merlotte's, she found, could only be described as...quaint, as one might use to describe an elderly relative with the tendency to address salespeople by outdated racial descriptions. It smelled of cheap liquor and resinous pine, and - dear god, were those animal heads mounted on the walls? It was enough to practically make even one such as herself tremble in her Jimmy Choos, Pam thought, but plastered on a smile as she reached into her purse to dig out the flyers, turning to the first human she saw and handing one over.
"Two-for-one drink special on Thursday nights," she said, attempting to imbue her voice with a semblance of natural warmth that Pam was fairly sure had died sometime around the Spanish-American War.
Where: Merlotte's
When: Evening, well after sunset
Status: Incomplete
"Take the night off," Eric had said.
"Who's going to man the door?" she'd wanted to know.
"I'll get Thalia to do it," Eric had said.
And that was when Pam knew that something was rotten in Area Five. Thalia was...not a vampire you really wanted interacting with the humans; she was better put to use sitting at the bar looking aloof. He must really have been desperate, if Eric was willing to give her a night off and put Thalia in her place at the door.
Pam gave him A Look. "Eric. What do you want?"
He was caught, and he knew it. "That new bar in Arcadia is going to open soon."
"So? What do we care? They're all the way over in Arcadia, and nobody who's anybody lives there. It'll shut down in a month," Pam scoffed.
It was Eric's turn to give her A Look. "It's closer to Bon Temps than we are. I don't want to lose out on potential new customers who might decide Shreveport is too far a drive."
She sighed. "So what do I have to do tonight, Eric? Walk through the town wearing a goddamned sandwich board advertising Fangtasia?"
Eric tried hard not to smile; Pam could see the corners of his lips twitching just a little before he answered. "Relax, Pam. I just want you to find out where the locals go after work and hand out some flyers."
"That's all?" Pam tried not to be suspicious, but with Eric you always had to be suspicious no matter what, as he was the very definition of the phrase "ulterior motive".
"You don't even have to dress up if you don't want to." He held out a stack of blood-red flyers covered in black gothic lettering. "Now go. And take the company credit card with you, just in case."
"You must be in some serious need of business if you're letting me take the AmEx Gold." Pam laughed on her way out, stuffing the flyers in her oversized Louis Vuitton handbag; the credit card, however, she tucked into the breast pocket of her cardigan sweater, feeling more secure with it there rather than in her wallet amongst all the other rectangles of plastic and microchips that funded her wardrobe.
Merlotte's, she found, could only be described as...quaint, as one might use to describe an elderly relative with the tendency to address salespeople by outdated racial descriptions. It smelled of cheap liquor and resinous pine, and - dear god, were those animal heads mounted on the walls? It was enough to practically make even one such as herself tremble in her Jimmy Choos, Pam thought, but plastered on a smile as she reached into her purse to dig out the flyers, turning to the first human she saw and handing one over.
"Two-for-one drink special on Thursday nights," she said, attempting to imbue her voice with a semblance of natural warmth that Pam was fairly sure had died sometime around the Spanish-American War.