(Untitled)

[oranje_windmill]

Who: Conner and Willem
When: Friday, November 19th, late evening/early night
Where: The Winchester
What: Willem has come to the bar to hopefully get a job from Erin's brother.

Comments

[4leaf_charmed]

The bar was barely getting into the swing of it, customers slipping in at a trickle. It was normal though, unless it was a holiday of some sort or a wedding was about to happen the bar didn't get too busy until around 9 or 10. A temp was clumsily trying to open beers and pour shots at the other end of the bar for the few customers not already nursing something.

With then taken care of and with Sadiq not scheduled to come in until second shift everything was taken care of. Which was why Conner was lurking behind the bar, cleaning glasses and wondering where the hell he was going to find a new bartender. There was no way the college kid would last a full shift when he could barely tell the difference between a Screwdriver and a Tequila Sunrise.

Someone call for a bartender?

[oranje_windmill]

It didn’t take long to catch sight of the man he was looking for. Even without the eye patch the long red hair and the freckles across his face would have told Willem who he was. Besides, he was apparently the only competent bartender working at the moment, so even if he’d had a bag over his head Willem was pretty sure he could have found him.

He made his way across to the bar near Conner, taking advantage of the fact that he was actually here at a time when there weren’t many people there yet to grab a stool. He raised a hand to get Conner’s attention, and when he had it he asked, “You’re Conner Kirkland-O'Connor right? I’m interested in the opening for bartender.”

Savior, I won't lose more liquor to idiots.

[4leaf_charmed]

"Aye, that'd be me." Conner set the glass he'd been washing down on the rack, ready with the others for a new customer. He leaned on the counter and eyed the man sitting before him, lip curling and brow raised.

"Look a bit y'ung. Ye old enough ta handle drinks on their own?" He'd gotten in trouble for hiring a 20 year old before since they served drinks alone. Damn laws. He winced at the sudden sound of yet another glass shattering, following by the mixed noise of the part timer stuttering apologies, an angry man yelling and a lot of laughter.

"Nevermind. Ye betta than that prat?" When he got a firm nod his mind was made. A quick shout had the part timer sulking out the door and Conner tossed Willem a cleaned apron from the back room. "What's yer name kid?"

Just call me Super Dutchman.

[oranje_windmill]

“Willem Van Peeters,” he replied. He caught the apron Conner tossed him, tying it over his jeans before taking up the recently vacated station behind the bar.

It took him some time to figure out where everything was, which made him slower then he would have liked for a bit until he managed to get used to where things were around him. A few times (especially as the bar became busier) he had to pause and recollect himself because he was about to reply to someone in Dutch or compute their tab in Euros. It made his accent stronger, but thankfully the customers seemed more interested that he knew his lagers from his ales.

Of course with this crowd, he was pretty sure they wouldn’t have cared as long as they got their alcohol in a timely fashion and he wasn’t outright insulting them.

The bar stayed busy throughout the night, and before he knew it the shift was over. If the tips he’d earned were any indication, he’d done a pretty decent job.

He just hoped Conner felt the same.