Miguel's Tapas Bar (Open)

[Omar]

((OOC note: This RP is open, but takes place at 5 pm in the afternoon. Sunset is still 3 hours away.))

Leaving the Casino, Omar rolled his head and shoulders to loosen his tired muscles. He had been working the early bird shift, but just as he was about to leave, someone called in sick. They needed server at bar number three. Trying to earn some points with pit boss, he volunteered to cover until someone else could relieve him. Well, no one ever showed up. So he ended up working a double shift. Not that he was complaining, he racked up some decent tips. He knew how to charm the older ladies. Politeness with a genuine smile worked every time. Not that he did it for the tips. No he did it to make the customers were having a good time. Again, it points with the pit boss that he wanted. He had a job yes, but it was far from being a headliner, and barely have him anything to save once he covered his bills. He wanted a better position, with more pay.

Yes a better job, and better pay, but it was past noon and he hadn’t eaten since seven the night before. Omar stored his guitar in the instrument cabinet in the employee’s locker room, and then out of the server clothes. Once he was back in his own clothes, he perused the information bulletin board. There were a variety of postings, vehicles for sale, furnishings, people looking for babysitters and restaurant menus and flier specials. There was one flier in particular that took his fancy. Miguel’s Tapas Bar. They even had a happy hour special. He checked the time and grinned. He could easily get there in time to take advantage of the special. He grabbed the flier and made his way to Miguel’s Tapas Bar.

Twenty minutes later Omar was seated at the bar, while a petite brunette went over the specials. There were fifty cent hot wings and Dos Equis beer, free sangria with entree, and the one that was most appealing, seafood paella. However when he showed interest the girl shook her head, “Two people..not one.”

“Ah.. but I will willingly pay full price.” he gave her his most charming smile, but she was unmoved.

“No. Must have two people. Not one. Choose something else.” The girl flipped her bar towel over her shoulder and moved to help another customer.

Omar looked around the bar, it was still a bit early, the crowd was thin. He noticed another patron, “Do you like paella? There is a special.. We could split it.. yes?”

[Charlie]

A long day left her with little patience. Beneath her skin, the frustration she felt surfaced as an itch she couldn’t scratch. A run might have been a wiser choice to appease the intangible constriction she felt, but the sky was darkening and the clouds promised deluge. A drink was a far more appealing option. The unfamiliarity coupled with the warm colours of its exterior lured her away form the cool weather and into the warm dining hall of the Valencian restaurant. She had spent most her day off weaving through busy subway stations and unappealing neighbourhood in search of a new home. The scowl on her face was proof she hadn’t yet found a suitable living arrangement. Life at the hostel was becoming unbearable, and to return there simply wasn’t an option.

Already on her second sangria, Charlie raked a hand through her hair and looked at the specials’ blackboard for the nth time. The prices were steep, above her budget, and while she wished to throw caution to the wind and please herself for a change, the possibility of her finding an apartment tomorrow and being unable to meet the bond requirements because she’d dropped too much on a fancy meal... well, it made her struggle with the decision. At this rate, on an empty stomach, she should’ve begun to relax, but the amount of stress she felt regarding her circumstance would require much, much more. A meal wouldn’t hurt the bank, especially when she realised her last meal had been over 12 hours ago, after her shift earlier that morning.

Resigned to her indecisiveness, the blonde hunched over her second glass of alcohol and did her best to distract herself by taking in her surroundings. She glanced around the tables that had already been served to gauge whether she should pay for her drinks or get one free by eating something—anything. Having now realised that she’d gone without food for the day, her stomach voiced its complaints.

“Paella?”

Her Scottish accent distorted the word, and through no fault of her own made a mockery of his thick accent. A glance at the specials’ board elicited fleeting clarification. Yes, she vaguely recalled overhearing the conversation he’d had with the waitress, though she’d paid little to mind to it.

It was a dish—a special—and he wanted to split it, with her?
Her brow furrowed. People were not warm in this city, and it was the first time since her arrival that she’d been so forwardly approached without malicious intent or tangible aggression. Her fingers shifted along the stem of her glass as she turned towards him to get a better look at him.

“That's the yellow rice with the shellfish, aye?”

Rice, as all backpackers knew, was a filling alternative to noodles.

[Omar]

Omar gave her a mock wounded look. “My dear chica,” his words clear, yet he did have a Spanish accent, “Paella is so much more than yellow rice and seafood. Paella is a hearty dish that warms the body, as well as the soul. When I eat paella, it takes me back to my childhood. So many wonderful days were finished with healthy helping of paella and stories told around the dinner table.”

Smiling in fond remembrance, “This is a meal of my homeland Espana. There is much history to paella, it is said it was created by the Moor King’s servants, who took the king’s leftovers to make their own meal. The servants did not plates or utensils of their own, and they could not be so bold as use the Royal silver, so they all ate from the communal pan. Every night after the Royal dinner, the servants would make the paella and gather around the pan to eat and tell stories. Full and happy, the servants would wake the next day rested and satisfied. The king noticed this change in his servants and asked why. He was told of the nightly ritual, and how delicious the food was and the way the fellowship allowed them to bond with one another. The King too wanted to try this dish. And it was so good, he proclaimed it to be served to his most important guests. Over time It’s reputation grew, and spread around the world.”

Shrugging a bit, “Forgive me.. At times, I tend to get carried away. So yes.. It is a seafood and rice dish, but so much more. Please Allow me to share this meal with you. You will not regret it.” He gave a smile, having noted her accent was not one native to Canada either, “And we can share stories of our travels, yes?”

[Charlie]

Charlie failed to repress the grin elicited by his mock reprimand. The ends of her mouth tipped upwards involuntarily as he spoke, and only a slow sip of sangria managed to keep her features in check.

Setting the glass back down, she processed the lesson with as close to a neutral expression as she could muster. She knew little about Spain beyond its existence as a popular holiday spot to thousands of Britons, home of Ibiza, and a notable nation in European history, of which she remembered very little. It was a sweet and simple story that required no more than a fraction of her mental processes to indulge in, rendering it a welcome distraction.

Her lips pursed briefly as he restated his... Offer? Invitation? Suggestion? Shifting in her seat, she gave him, and the space immediately behind him, a thorough second look. It was a woman’s duty in this day and age to take precautions, for society was far too eager to blame her if she was too trusting and became a victim. The restaurant was crowded, perhaps more than was ideal, but it remained a public place.

“Once you get me talking I won’t shut up, mate,” she warned amiably, turning fully on her stool to face him, “Not even when my mouth’s full.”

If her answer was lost to subtext then the gathering of her glass and steady slide off the stool would be indication enough. Charlie outstretched her free hand towards him, introduction short and sweet.

“Charlie.”

[Ona Leon (DELETED 8137)]

A new bar had opened, a Spanish or Mexican place she could not tell at first glance. She had had a great night with tips at the bar and wanted to celebrate so here she was standing just outside this new place. A glance over the menu and she gives a small nod, seemed good enough. Her hand pushed open the door and she stepped inside. Long red dreads held back with a strip of cloth to keep most of it back and out of her face. A smile at the smell as she makes her way towards an empty seat at the bar.