(no subject)

[alphawho]

Who: Church and everyone. Everyone else.
What: Drinks! Chats? Shenanigans. Tipping your bartender.
Where: Eagle & Asp
When: whenever you want it baby 5/21 through the evening
Warnings: surely I don't have to warn everyone about their language right

Church is a regular here. Not as a patron, hell no, but as a bartender. Usually, in fact almost always, in blue (especially his helmet), declaring his side the 'eagle' side. It's a themeing thing, okay? Don't question the theme.

And he really wishes the mercs would find other bars to hang out in, planning their whatevers and darkening doorsteps, but what's he gonna do, call security? So long as he gets paid, then whatever.

Comments

[the_informant]

"Chur-uuuurch," Florida sings out as he tends to do when he comes in and sees his favorite bartender on duty. The older mercenary takes his helmet off and he advances on the bar, all smiles and hums.

"Leo, darling, you don't write, you don't call, a guy would think you didn't love him."

With that he flops down onto a stool and smiles.

[alphawho]

Having his helmet practically glued to his head (both for effect and practicality) actually serves him pretty well. It lets him glare at patrons and drunks and assholes all night without them ever knowing. It's fucking great. So when he rolls his eyes at Florida, the guy'll never know.

...Right? H-ha, right, obviously...

"Funny how that happens, right? So, what unholy fruity concoction can I drill your sweet tooth out with today?"

[the_informant]

"The usual, handsome," Florida coos, leaning across and waving a hundred credit stub at Church. "You think more about my offer?"

[alphawho]

Oh boy oh boy, he really hopes that cash is to pay to ply the merc with drinks all night long and not a prize for if he happened to change his mind. He grabs the vodka, pretending to think while he starts whipping up the drink.

"Can't say that I have. Why, you here to sweeten the deal?"

[searchandrecovery]

Oh, good. Church is on duty. Church always puts little umbrellas in the drinks and Wash could totally use a little umbrella right now. Maybe even a green one. It's not a yellow-umbrella day, those are for when things really suck. Green umbrella days are when things are doing pretty good. Could be better, but overall, things are on the up-and-up. They're a happy umbrella, but not as happy as the red ones.

"Hey," he says as he approaches the bar. "Can I get a banana daiquiri?" But what he's really asking for is any alcoholic beverage with a little umbrella.

[alphawho]

There are some things that Church just doesn't have the patience for. And then there are the things that he pretends to have patience for so he can keep having a paying job and not end up out on his ass. Again. Putting up with stupid, asinine requests from the drinking public with a pretend smile is on both sides.

"Coming right up." The chipper tone is false, but it hasn't been a bad day for him either. Any chipper tone from him is patently false. Or at least that's what he'd say. "What kind of umbrella day is it today?" He's picked up that colors and moods are connected with Wash. These things a bartender just sees. Any good one, anyway. "We got some blue ones."

[searchandrecovery]

Wash swears there's something with that guy and the color blue. Still, he's not going to begrudge a guy his favorite color. Although he's not quite sure if Church even has favorites. You have to like something first, to have favorites, and Wash hasn't seen Church be genuinely pleased about anything. Not even the little things in life. Not even little umbrellas. Still, if they just got some blue umbrellas, there's a chance Wash could get an extra. Maybe. If he tips well. "Yeah, sure. Blue works." Blue and green are pretty similar, anyway.

[alphawho]

Why not? Blue's an awesome color. It's good to be blue. "Come on, Rescue Ranger," cuz, see, it's kind of like Recovery, to be Rescue, and then--nevermind, "gotta give me something here. You're having a day. I need to know what kind so I can get you the right umbrella."

Sure, okay, he's kind of a misanthrope, or comes off as one. He doesn't really seem to like people. But damn if he can't do the idle bar chatter. Scientifically proven to get people to come back and spend more money. Bottom line, bitches!

"Or else I'm just gonna have to guess."

[depthlesslock]

It's been a good day. Training with Sigma in the morning and a job gone better than expected through the rest of the afternoon. So now that he's got some time to himself, York debates between his favorite bar and favorite club and ends up at Eagle & Asp because he's tired after the job and there's no point going to Errera if you can't dance properly.

So after the airlock lets him through, he meanders over to the bar where the familiar sight of Church serving greets him. Good. He could use some meaningless conversation.

'Hey, Blue,' he says as he sits down.

[alphawho]

"Hey Keys." Get it, because, see, Locksmith? "Break into any high-security vaults lately? Got a little extra padding in you back pocket to spread around?"

[depthlesslock]

York chuckles and pulls a credit chip from his pocket. 'Not a vault, per say, but I'll spread the extra padding I got. Hard apple cider, if you will.'

[alphawho]

The fuck is it with all these badass kill-for-money mercenaries and fruit? "I will gladly get you all the cider you can drink if you're gonna start throwing money around like that." He'll pull a nice cold one out. "You might make a few new friends that way."

[spectre_de_la_mort]

Louisiana strides into the Eagle and Asp after another successful target elimination. At least this time she didn't have to go through a car chase in order to do it. The guy had been apparently stealing assets from Control. Now he was shredded and never to be found. She probably should've grabbed another jacket. Stray flecks of dried blood were on her sleeves. However she could use a drink after a job. Plus she hadn't been to this place yet.

She cuts through the crowd to get to the bar. Guy working behind had his helmet on. Interesting. Must be thanks to all of the mercs roaming around. Louisiana waits for him to finish. Her helmet being tugged off and placed next to her. She puts her arm up on the bar, leaning against it.

[alphawho]

Sure. It's all the rage cuz of the mercs. They're a fucking fashionable folk. Hey, he doesn't keep it locked on; he likes to breathe and still be able to take a drink (of water, thanks) without fussing with it on and off when he doesn't need to.

This one looks new. Or they just hadn't been here before. He tilts his head toward hers. "Looking for something particular?" He might be more rude if he knew she was a merc. But he doesn't, yet, so she gets congenial instead of snippy.

[spectre_de_la_mort]

Louisiana turns her head at the question. Looks like being patient paid off. She pulls out the credit chip Control maintains for her and offers it over to the bartender. "Just a jack and coke for now. Merci."

[alphawho]

"Thank god, something simple and classic. Now I don't mind making fruity girly drinks--no offense--but like, don't people in this city have any appreciation for something normal to hammer down?" He'll see how the idle chatter goes over with her, pouring it out.

[baruthumos]

It's been a long time since Omega was in a bar. He finds a seat at the bar where he can see the door and sets his helmet and jacket on the stool next to him, saving the seat for Tex.

[soldierinblack]

She's not sure what is spurring Florida to tell Omega to invite her out, but she's not going to complain. And they're at a place she can get alcohol, even better. She's dressed down in more casual and non Soldier attire, even wearing the purple lace scarf Florida made her. How he found the perfect color to match her eyes, she doesn't know.

Omega's easy to spot and she removes her helmet to as she slides into the saved seat once his belongs are out of the way.

"Hey."

[baruthumos]

Omega positively lights up when he sees her. "Hi," he says. "Nice scarf. How's your day been?"

[grifshot]

Grif sits on the red side, watching the bar.

It's something he does more out of habit than anything else. Anything to get Sarge off his back really. It's kind of lame right now, since it's just him and not the rest of the Reds. They'd probably be along soon enough.

For now, he sits back in his regular chair and gives the barman a wave. Time for a drink or ten.

[alphawho]

Fucking Reds. Loud and noisy dumbasses. Why's he gotta see them here, too? Oh, right, because blue and red. Stupid fucking theme. (At least this one's okay. Him and his stupid scrap.)

"Get kicked out of the house or something, or did you ditch them?"

[grifshot]

"Ditched 'em, had better places to be than listening to Simmons lecture about cleaning again," Grif replies. "Although I thought I'd come here first."

He's sure the other Reds will be along at some point.

[wanderingmemory]

Well, Epsilon still had the urge to wander, even with his injured arm and painkillers. So, he's going to a bar he'd heard about in passing with some money. Not that he can drink the booze... Well, he shouldn't. Really shouldn't.

He's sitting down at the bar regardless. Lets see if the barkeep can tempt him into something he shouldn't do.

[alphawho]

"You old enough to be in here?" Yeah, sure, everyone's supposed to get carded at the door, but some people like being made to feel younger. "Go on and pick your poison."

[wanderingmemory]

Epsilon laughs at that. "Of course I am. I even have ID to prove it... Though I should probably be asking what you can serve without alcohol in it... Not sure I should be drinking alcohol right now."