(Untitled)

[applelimber]

Who: Helen (applelimber), Open!
When: The beginning of happy hour.
Where: The Foxhole
Format: Paragraph, action if people want to start their own threads and do it that way.
What: The Foxhole's Grand Opening. You don't have to comment directly to Helen. :) You're welcome to start your own open or private threads.
Warnings: Possible drunkenness. Bar brawls

Comments

[jaytodd]

"Ladies," Jason said as he entered the bar, very dramatically, "you are a sight for sore eyes and frozen feet."

And damn but the place looked like the dingiest and sleaziest parts of Gotham, heavy with the smell of beer. It was pretty empty so far, but there was a good vibe there.
It lacked a broken jukebox and a bar brawl, but it was warm, and the wall behind the counter was filled with bottles.

What did a guy want more?

He put the bottle he had been carrying ( one that look like the ones being drunk here) on the counter. He smiled. "Little housewarming gift. Actually it's part of the clever ploy to see Priscilla drunk." He poked at the weird-looking bottle, looking at Helen. "Don't let plain old humans drink it straight, this shit is potent enough to make you blind."

[applelimber]

The sound of a new, male voice was cause for her to look up at the door. She'd never meet Jason face to face. First impressions? She liked him already. "That's just because your odds are pretty good. Four to one?" How could he complain. And he came bearing gifts. So how could Helen complain either. "Can't say that I disapprove of that plan." She picked up the bottle, cocking her head to the side as she studied it. "Now what would be even better? Seeing Pris and Deneve drunk." She grinned. Hey, a girl could dream.

[jaytodd]

Helen looked a little - okay, a lot, like Priscilla, but the attitude and and the grin were nothing alike. He liked her so far. Then she owned a bar. One never upset the owner of the bar. One liked the owner of the bar.

He laughed. "Four to one, maybe, but I'm ready to bet I'd be teared apart before I could move." And oh, did he like strong and dangerous women.

He watched her studying the bottle. "Deneve?" He wasn't sure he had already heard the name - but the more drunk people, the better.

"What are the entertainment ideas?" Or he could just count his blessings and enjoy being in a bar with beautiful and dangerous women. Maybe even do a strip tease for them. He snorted.

"Which beer you reccommend?"

[applelimber]

"Oh? So I guess you've heard about us." Claymores. Who really could tear a person apart before they moved, but wouldn't if they kept their Organization vows. But considering that Helen had deserted from the Organization...

Still, she didn't look like much of a threat now with her relaxed posture. She placed the bottle aside, giving a dramatic sigh at the mention of entertainment ideas.

"The only one I've had so far got shot down. The floors in this place aren't great." Helen doesn't mention exactly what the idea was, though it might get her a volunteer to repair the floors.

The smile, always a little on the sly side, returned to her lips as she placed a bottle on the counter. "Best you ever drank or it's free."

[jaytodd]

He just raised a brow at that - "I know beautiful, dangerous women when I see them." That might have been flirtation. He'd have to ask about that 'us' sometimes later...

"What kind of idea'd have needed better floors?"

He held the bottle, still smiling and looking at her. "To the ladies." Then he put the bottle to his lips and put on a little show as he was drinking. Damn good beer that was, and it would never been said that he couldn't be a showman when he wanted to be.

/slides in after Helen

[drjonessmith]

Martha didn't know the new male customer's face, but she recognized his voice as one of the number that had contacted her when she first reached Anatole. combined with the bottle, she knew him immediately; Jason, the American. Admittedly they had not hit it off right away, but Martha was charmed by his genuine excitement for the Foxhole's opening. Anyone enthusiastic enough to bring his own alcohol to share couldn't be too bad of a guy.

She waited until he'd finished with Helen before addressing him. "You're a sight for sore eyes yourself. I thought I was the only non-blond. Or at least the only non-blond female," she corrected as she watched another dark haired man enter.

"So, do you need a glass for that?" She pointed at his bottle.

[jaytodd]

"Martha Jones, right? A pleasure," he said and nodded, smiling all nice like. He really, really liked the accent. And the smile. "Yep, the sisters' show is a bit intimidating." He saw the other guy enter - this guy he knew. The poor fucker always fled the arena before the fangirls could reach him.

He smiled wider and chuckled. "This one's not for me, I want t'stay alive - keep it for metas and get it out for yourself at the end of the shift with a fucking ocean of juice." He still couldn't believe he had found the bottle at the Found Goods shop - Grace's name was even scribbled on the alien sticker.

"I could do with vodka." He offered her one more wide smile.

[drjonessmith]

"So they're sisters, eh? I guess I probably should have guessed. Talk about luck." Martha tried to imagine Tish living here. The picture wasn't pretty, especially after thinking about how much trouble she got into on Earth anyway.

She turned to the the wide selection of bottles, quickly finding the earthen jug on the high shelf. Whoever had owned the nearly-full bottle had good taste, even if his spelling was poor; the large black letters spelled out WODKA. The liquor inside, however, was clear, crisp, and strong. She poured it into a glass and handed it to her first customer.

"I'd put in ice, but it's been cold enough lately I don't think you need it."

[jaytodd]

"They look and act enough like it anyway." What is how Dick, Tim and him had been seen through outsiders' eyes? Then again, the whole 'trying to kill babybird' might have put a bit of a crank in that. The smile froze for a second, while Martha was turned to the bottles.

It reappeared easily enough when she turned back - and widened at the sight of the bottle's marking. It would either be very good, or bad enough to just be good to clean his knife with.

"Vodka's taken as you can drink it. Bottom up!"

He downed the glass in one, baring his scared throat in the process. The glass was put down with a loud 'tack' on the counter. The alcohol burned and warmed going down.

"That is damn good vodka."

[drjonessmith]

Martha's own smile briefly faded when she got a good look at Jason's neck. An injury as severe as that should have killed him. Was this the work of Anatole's strange magic, or something darker? Something worse at home? She decided not to ask. She barely knew him, and the memory of the injury could be as bad as the cut itself.

"I like to think," she replied, "that whoever wrote on the bottle made the vodka himself. Standing over the fermenting stuff for days, sticking it in his own bottles, planning to enjoy it all slowly and happily with cranberry juice or by itself. Then he wakes up one day and poof! It's off to Anatole." She laughed quietly to herself, trying to not think about how easily she herself was plucked.

"So, how long have you been in this place?"

[jaytodd]

"Weird, I can't get myself to feel bad for the poor bastard." He played along. Had been a while since he had allowed himself strong stuff, and it was agood reintroduction.

He tilted his head a bit to the side at her question. The collar of the leather jacket brushed the scars - it didn't hurt anymore. The memories did.

"About... Nearly two months now." It felt longer, and at the same time, he hadn't realized. "How are you finding the place?"

[drjonessmith]

"Eh, better than the 60s. At least here I'm just supporting myself." She cleaned a nearby glass with extra special attention. "I'm just finding it hard to believe that this is it. that I won't go home again. I guess..." She trailed off, losing her smile for a second. Her eyes fell on her wedding ring. It was probably a terrible idea to keep it on while she works, and yet the idea of taking it off seemed abominable, unconscionable. She pushed the glass towards him with an obviously fake smile.

"I guess I've resigned myself to a miracle. Another one?"

[jaytodd]

He probably heard wrong. "The 60's? Like in Earth, 1960's?" Sounds like a good conversation fodder as any before she lapsed into definitively a not 'Happy Hour' mood. And time travelling is not something he heard about that often (and it was mostly in the other way around). He couldn't really offer reassurances or say 'there's this book actually', because he was dry on both front. Mentioning that the disappeared people maybe made it home wasn't really lightening the mood either.

Wedding ring and fake smile. If she had someone waiting for her... he couldn't blame her for being sad.

So he snorted and smiled wider, bumping the charm another notch. "I'll call a miracle when I see one - for now, it's this place." He saluted with a hand, making a little flourish, encompassing the room behind and the counter. "And sure, if you drink one with me."

[drjonessmith]

"I can't get drunk at work, but I'm sure one is fine." She poured her own shot of WODKA, careful to give herself less than what she poured into Jason's glass. Then she returned his flourish and began her story, trying (and failing) to imitate some American movie trailer narrator.

"It was Earth, 1969. Some poor London med student gets stranded with an alien time traveler for months, lost without their transport machine. So what happens? She becomes a shop girl as he lazes around the flat making videotapes for the future." She breaks off narrating after bursting into laughter, her voice returning to normal. "But that's just the part that I understood."

She threw her head back, taking the shot in with one gulp. "Well, we were fine in the end. I guess that's what matters."

[jaytodd]

He chuckled with her. "That's some story. An alien time-traveler? Sounds like you got more stories there. You can't leave me hanging there," he said, spreading his hands. He hadn't touched his new glass yet.

[drjonessmith]

"I can't tell you everything. That would take too long." She put her glass down. "I've got to keep some stories to myself, or bore you half to death. Rest assured, he did have great hair." Without thinking about it, she began to pour herself another shot. "I've heard he's been about here before, but not for long. They call him the Doctor."