An Irishwoman and a Canadian Enter a Bar...[Aine]

[Jesse Fforde]

* Aine was a little fidgety, as she entered the building, hands smoothing the simple gray top she wore against the waist of her jeans. Her eyes flicked from face to face - pocket to pocket. She was trying, for once, not to give in to her urge, to dig into the pockets of those around her for small trinkets, cash...whatever she could find. Some of them even had ammo in their pockets - that was always an interesting find.

<Jesse Fforde> Jesse had recently been accused of only having a couple of main priorities, and everything else paled in comparison. All he cared about, according to Raven, was Clover and Serpentine. These days, she wasn't wrong. So much had happened, so many people had disappeared or left on purpose, that his priorities had withered. The tattoo parlour was empty; Jesse's latest scheduled client had left. It was time to check on the rest of the establishment - he climbed the stairs up to the pub and stretched his arms over his head, the bones in his neck cracking. He meandered behind the bar, ducking down behind it to check the stores underneath.

* Aine scratched at her scalp, walking up to the bar and staring at those behind it. She was nervous - this was her first time at a bar in the area, and she didn't know what was available. So she asked for something she knew a lot of places has. "Can I get a shot of tequila?" she asked, in her thick accent.

<Jesse Fforde> The tattoo parlour was Jesse's main haunt; when he ended up behind the bar, he ended up mercilessly teased by Charlie more often than not because he didn't know where anything was. And if you asked him to make a cocktail he'd be completely lost. One of the other bartenders turned to serve the woman who'd asked for Tequlia - but that was something Jesse could do. That was simple. He stood and wiped his hands, offering a smile to the human, though the smiles generally didn't help with how he made them feel. "Tequila, coming right up," he said, reaching for the bottle behind the counter, and a shot glass from the cabinet nearby.

* Aine shifted slightly to situate herself on a seat, fussing momentarily with her hair. The alcohol served two purposes. One, she knew alcohol could calm her urge of kleptomania, at least partially. Two, well, she hadn't seen anyone she knew in town for weeks. Except the shop keep. But he wasn't much of a conversationalist. And she didn't know his name.

<Jesse Fforde> It took ten seconds for Jesse to pour the drink. A single shot of tequila was hardly rocket science. He slid the shot glass across the counter in front of the Irishwoman. What was it with foreigners in this city? Were they drawn to it somehow? Jesse's accent - though his voice was cracked and broken, husky beyond repair - was purely Canadian. "No Guinness?" he asked. Maybe he was reducing her to a stereotype - but that's how Jesse rolled.

* Aine picked up the shot when it was slid before her, taking a deep breath before tossing it back, no salt or anything. She gave a faint gasp at the burn, before setting the glass down gently. Then, she gave him a look. A piercing sort of glare, but playful, clearly so. "Not every single Irish person likes Guinness. I happen to like tequila," she said, eyebrows quirking

<Jesse Fforde> Jesse leaned idly against the counter top; he didn't look like he was working - but that's because he wasn't really working. In the grand scheme of things, he was ready to be done for the night. And all of a sudden this human, who glared at him playfully rather than regarding him with fear or unease like everyone else did, piqued his interest. "You want another one, then?"

* Aine laughed softly, tapping one finger in a fidgety way on the bar, before looking the man over. Something about him unnerved her - but then, her level of fidget usually unnerved everyone around her. "Hell yes, I'd love another one," she said. digging into her back pocket. There was her money, neatly folded in half. Canadian money was something she'd never get used to, for certain.

<Jesse Fforde> Jesse nodded and poured another into the same glass. He wasn't exactly the chattiest bartender; he tended more toward silence than conversation, and it was why he preferred the tattoo parlour over the bar. He could get away with it in there; it could be assumed he was just focusing on his work. There was an expectation for bartenders to have a witty repertoire, however. And Jesse just was not up to it. "Is there anything else I can get for you?"

* Aine bit her lip at the question. It wasn't one she'd really thought of being asked. But then, people had to make money. Some of them were even honest about it. None of the money in Aine's pocket had been gained honestly. Not a cent. Theft was her profession, not that he needed to know that. Her eyes nervously glanced behind her, as if looking - hoping - for someone. "Yeah, how about a margarita?"

[Aine (DELETED 7786)]

<Jesse Fforde> The nervous behaviour was noted, but Jesse was accustomed to it. A margarita was a little more complex than a simple shot of Tequila, but only slightly. It took him a little longer to find the right glass, the sugar, and the lime, but eventually he managed to make the drink as it should be - sugar rimmed the outside of the glass, a piece of lime wedged tight to the rim, the beverage inside served on ice. He looked pretty damned proud of himself, too. "... I don't work behind the bar often..." he admitted.

* Aine ran a finger around the rim, eyeing him as she stuck her finger in her mouth. "I can tell," she giggled. "It's supposed to be salted, not sugared. To help cut the tequila. But...I'll try it like this. A sugar margarita..."

<Jesse Fforde> Jesse stared at the drink, swearing inwardly. This was why he wasn't allowed behind the counter. Which drink needed sugar, then? And had he ever given that one away with salt instead? "This one can be called a 'Jesse' special. Because I'm sweet, not sour," he said with wink.

* Aine picked up the drink and took a sip. It was odd...but not too horrible. It kind of reminded Aine of herself - deceptive. "Jesse, aye? Aine." And she smiled, setting the drink down and twisting it.

<Jesse Fforde> Jesse laughed. "Aine. If you don't like it, I can make you another one. On the house..." he said, gesturing to the drink. Jesse could be proud and stubborn, but he could at least admit to his mistakes when he made them - at least ones as simple as using sugar instead of salt.

* Aine gave a laugh. "I'll at least try to finish this," she said, lifting the glass and taking another sip, from a point with sugar rather than the point she'd already drunk from. Then, lowering it, she smirked. "So how often are you behind the bar?"

<Jesse Fforde> He gave a shrug of his shoulders. "Mostly when someone's sick and they're desperate for back-up," he said, before nodding toward the tattoo parlour. "I'm a tattoo artist. I work in there," he said. He could have said that he owned the place, too, but he liked playing like he was just another ordinary joe.

* Aine gaped slightly. A tattoo artist? This could be interesting. "What's your rate for a small tattoo, somewhere like the ribcage or the hip?" she asked, taking another sip of the alcoholic cocktail

<Jesse Fforde> "It's $150 regardless, for insurance. That's the base rate. Then $50 per hour on top," he said, head canted slightly to the left. He had to cover his *** as far as insurance was concerned, and it helped him to keep the place clean. If he only got a couple of customers a night, that $150 wasn't really all that much, in the grand scheme of things.

* Aine tipped back the glass again, draining its contents and setting it on the counter once more. Then she dug into her jeans, pulled out her collective of cash, and said, "How much for the shots and the margarita?"

<Jesse Fforde> "Ah..." he squinted at the glasses, not at all surprised by the collection of cash. He might have warned her not to carry so much on her given how grab-happy the pick-pockets of this city could be, but she wasn't his to worry about. "I messed up the margarita, so you can have it on the house anyway. The shots? Just twelve dollars..."

* Aine knew all about grab-happy pickpockets, all right. "Thank you," she smiled, pulling out twenty dollars and setting it on the bar. "I like you," she said, sliding the cash toward him before slipping her money back into her back pocket.

<Jesse Fforde> Jesse snorted as he took the money and sidestepped to the register, where he plugged in the amounts so that he could get her change. "That's a first," he said. Not many people would admit to 'liking' him upon first meeting - human or vampire. Especially human. Maybe it had something to do with his mood, which had been uncommonly good lately. Maybe letting go was good for the soul.

* Aine chuckled softly. "Keep it," she said, turning away. "I'll definitely be coming back soon for a tattoo. And maybe some drinks, too." And she started heading out.

<Jesse Fforde> Jesse nodded, slipping the change into the tip jar. It would be divvied up amongst the other staff later. "I'll see you around, Aine," he said. And he would - he was there more often than not, probably to the dismay of all who knew him.