Ellen's only new to the bartending gig insofar as Milliways is concerned. And the Roadhouse - well, it attracts a certain type, but every now and then it gets an outlier.
Ben's sized up in a mere glance.
"No specials tonight. Guess that means you're gonna have to get creative."
"I may have a little sweet tooth," he says with a slow-spreading smile. "But I'm bettin' you two're fresh out of gingerbread and fixin's, so I'll make it easy and just take a whiskey, neat."
(Unless Sallie's got pie back there. Pie, he'll even sing for.)
Ciel, settling onto a bar-stool as he is, is feeling adventurous tonight. Not that he seems it, with his look of almost tired disinterest. But he is, and, he has to admit, he feels a little safer adventuring with real people behind the Bar.
He can probably tell if they're putting anything funny in the drinks, here.
Ellen's not exactly in the habit of sticking anything in a drink other than what the recipe calls for.
'Course, that all hinges on whether she thinks the person sitting in her saloon is anything less-than-human. She stocks a few beers full of holy water underneath the bar for that very purpose.
Though, maybe he should have been a little more wary of drinking laws. Really, in his mustering of courage to test out the alcohol here, he'd forgotten that whole bother about age restrictions and taverns.
He wrinkles his nose in evident distaste at the question.
Judging by her expression, Ellen's feeling a lot more than distaste at the moment.
"I don't know how Bar feels about drinkin' laws, but I'm not sure I want to be startin' a new trend - in my bar or anywhere else. So if it's all the same to you, I'd say we just cut back on that brandy altogether."
"Maker's Mark on the rocks, thanks." Nathan remarked as he slid on an available stool. He was dressed in a suit tonight, coming back from a meeting with his new staff.
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"Can I get a strawberry daiquiri?"
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The whole daiquiri thing is new, though.
"Ellen?"
Busy with a barkey, Ellen points to a bottle of nondescript mix in the corner; Sallie figures out the rest from there.
"Forgive me, I'm a bit new."
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She crosses her legs. "I'm Edie."
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Ellen is politely not rolling her eyes.
Sallie retrieves a straw and declares the drink made, trying to not look to proud of herself as she hands it over.
"You new?"
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"Well."
A beat.
"That's one way to get conversation goin', ladies."
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Ben's sized up in a mere glance.
"No specials tonight. Guess that means you're gonna have to get creative."
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(Unless Sallie's got pie back there. Pie, he'll even sing for.)
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Ciel, settling onto a bar-stool as he is, is feeling adventurous tonight. Not that he seems it, with his look of almost tired disinterest. But he is, and, he has to admit, he feels a little safer adventuring with real people behind the Bar.
He can probably tell if they're putting anything funny in the drinks, here.
"Not too much of the first one, if you could."
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'Course, that all hinges on whether she thinks the person sitting in her saloon is anything less-than-human. She stocks a few beers full of holy water underneath the bar for that very purpose.
Ciel gets fixed with a look.
"How old are you, son?"
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Though, maybe he should have been a little more wary of drinking laws. Really, in his mustering of courage to test out the alcohol here, he'd forgotten that whole bother about age restrictions and taverns.
He wrinkles his nose in evident distaste at the question.
"Twelve."
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"I don't know how Bar feels about drinkin' laws, but I'm not sure I want to be startin' a new trend - in my bar or anywhere else. So if it's all the same to you, I'd say we just cut back on that brandy altogether."
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He could just look like some stick-up-the-pigu lawyer, but he's smiling, so that can't be it.
Now what the hell is Maker's Mark? Oh! There it is --
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"Thanks, just came from a meeting." Have to dress to impress with the political crowds.
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It doesn't look like her style, exactly.
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"You want that cooked to order, or what?"
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"...Meat."
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Ellen stares back.
"You don't have any preference."
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