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."

[its_notluck]

It's probably a bad idea to go back to near where the riot had been but she's curious. Also? She's a little bored and there is also the need to get herself back on her feet. Not that she was aware of being off of them but she knew what Aaron and Ruvin meant when they said she needed to find a job. She can't stay mooching off the Conrad and other people, she's not that kind of girl. She's independent or at least she has to be now because she doesn't have her dad or the Petrellis here. She almost wishes she did.

She pauses near a bar, noticing a sign as she tilts her head to the side and then moves forward to enter. Luna is the place but she's never been there. She's new and it probably shows in the wary way she looks around and the clothes that aren't quite the right size for her. They're probably a size too big but her own clothes got wrecked in the rioting.

Taking note of the woman, she moves closer as she wonders if she'll get kicked out. "Hello?"

[couldusealaugh]

Avery already knows the telltale signs of a newcomer. A regular, well, they've got no problem with waltzing in, grabbing a stool and ordering a drink. Newcomers tend to stand around by the door and shuffle some until they start to feel more comfortable, and then they'll actually stop and order.

She takes another sip of wine, looking up at the girl who's just entered, and offers a relatively friendly smile in return.

"Can I help you?"

[its_notluck]

It's only the second time Claire has been in a bar; the first time being the bar in Mexico where she drank a college frat boy under the table to try and win money off of his friends after Nathan passed out after the initial challenge. Not the point though.

She offers a small smile, shrugging. "I'm just looking around." She admits while reaching up to tuck some hair back behind her ears. "Um, do you have any chocolate milk?" Yes, it's a dumb thing to ask in a bar but she misses it right now.

[couldusealaugh]

Avery might be smiling now. It's difficult to tell, but she nods once.

"Just because we're a bar doesn't mean we get into the habit of selling alcohol exclusively," she answers, reaching underneath the bar, where she often keeps milk and ice cream there for the very purpose of making milkshakes.

A large, cold glass of chocolate milk gets placed on the bar in front of Claire.

[gotbottle]

Rachel's passed by Luna biking to and from work pretty much every day, but it's only this afternoon, after work, that she's decided to stop in. She finds a place to lock up her bike, and then she wanders inside.

The place looks reasonably safe, and it's nice. And while her anger over the riot and her concern for Adrian and Martin (and everyone else) has mostly gotten her out of her vaguely suicidal funk, she could stand to drown a sorrow or two for a little while.

So she takes a seat at the bar, balancing herself on a stool after she slides the strap of her messenger bag off her body and sets the bag on the floor.

[couldusealaugh]

Avery's finished her wine by this point, and her back is turned to the door as she rests her hands on her hips, surveying the shelves of liquor in front of her and trying to figure out which brands they're sorely lacking in at the moment.

She makes a mental note to disappear into the basement and bring out two more bottles of Jose and Jim when a sound behind her draws her attention away.

"Pick your poison," she says, without turning around.

[gotbottle]

Rachel scoots a bit closer, digging the balls of her sneakered feet into the footrest of the stool for balance, resting her arms, folded one atop the other, across the edge of the bar in front of her body.

"Whisky sour, please," she says politely, "with Jameson if you've got it."

[couldusealaugh]

"You got it."

A few moments later, Avery plunks down the drink in front of her, leaning against the backside of the bar, and pours herself another glass of wine.