(Untitled)

[i_love_kettch]

Wes Janson's behind the Bar, still all bruised up and with a black eye.

... he has several other people helping him today. Not all of them actual bartenders.

It's pot luck.

Comments

[majorinyri]

Inyri slides onto a barstool and eyes him for a moment. Then, blandly: "Can I have...a bottle of Whyrens?"

[i_love_kettch]

"Uh," Wes says, and frowns at her; but he turns to get a bottle and glass after a moment, and puts them on the Bar in front of her.

"What's wrong?"

Then he winces. He means besides the obvious.

[majorinyri]

She gives him a look. "You know what? Don't worry about it."

Inyri eyes the glass before opening the bottle and just drinking out of that.

[joye_of_snackes]

Nanny is behind the bar, making herself useful by ensuring the spirits haven't been poisoned.

Totally unrelated to anything, and completely accidentally, her elbow makes contact with Wes's upper arm.

[asar_suti]

"Can I have a large glass of something purple?" Asar-Suti said, leaning on the bar.

[joye_of_snackes]

And a few moments later he gets a large glass of something purple.

It's bright purple, in fact, and smells vaguely of oranges.

Well, mostly oranges.

"There you go, love."

[asar_suti]

"Wow," Asar-Suti said, "that's certainly a huge glass!"

He lifted it up, slowly, and sipped from it. "And a lovely drink - what's in it apart form oranges?"

Oranges. Purple. Made a strange kind of sense.

[joye_of_snackes]

Nanny winks at him.

"Now that would be telling, wouldn't it?"

[ushouldcwhatic]

John slid on a stool, "Just a Sam Adams lager. Thanks." He hadn't noticed the shiner yet.

[stay_strange]

There is a tall-for-her age thirteen-year-old standing behind him staring seriously at teh back of his head. it is, apparently, fascinating.

[ushouldcwhatic]

John half turned after a while, realizing he was watched.

"Hi?" He then said.

[stay_strange]

"Hullo," she says, seriously. She blinks at him. Perhaps she wants something. Perhaps not. It's hard to tell.

[i_love_kettch]

"I found a Spaarti cloning cylinder," Wes says, deadpan.

[capt_angie]

"Oh yeah, me and Wes? Peas in a pod. Cant' tell us apart," says the tall, attractive black woman standing behind the bar with what looks like a glass of coke but will probably turn out to be vodka and coke.

[stay_strange]

Emily has set up a small guillotine on the bar surface, and has been using it to slice lemons. She has run out of lemons. She is contemplating her fingers. This could be bad. . . .

[dreamer_fray]

Harth is meant to be serving drinks.

Don't ask how that happened. We don't have logic here.

At the moment, however, he's watching Emily from the other side (with the aid of a stool) with evident fascination.

"...Can I get you anything?"

[stay_strange]

Emily thoughtfully lays her index finger in the path of the blade, and drops it. The edge is apparently very sharp, as shortly her finger is no longer attached to the rest of her hand.

She looks up.

"A raspberry milkshake, please."

[dreamer_fray]

...

There is a short pause.

...

Wow.

"Sure."

His hands move automatically - raspberries, ice cream, milk, whipped cream, blender - while still staring at the blood beading on the severed end of her finger, and dropping onto the bar from her hand.