gunsforhire | (no subject)

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(no subject)

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.

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"Hey hey, a true gentleman doesn't kiss and tell!"

Louisiana laughs softly, smirking. "True gentleman? I might have to go with none then. Am I right?"

Maine comes in late--the base is uncannily quiet when he comes back from running errands. However, when he arrives at the Eagle and Asp, the first person he sees is not another For Hire but Louisiana. He crosses to her side, nodding at the bartender.

"Always right," he says, catching the tail end of their conversation.

"Right," he says a little sarcastically but trying not to go full sarcasm. "The lady is always right. Makes things easier that way, doesn't it?" Church nods in Maine's direction, though he still faces the not-so-newbie. "This one yours?"

"Kind of in a way. I didn't think I'd be seeing you here, Maine." Louisiana takes a sip of her jack and coke, smiling. Now this was a way to relax. Possibly drinking with a friend. "Fancy joining me for a drink?"

"Sure." He takes the seat next to her. "Double whiskey on the rocks. Please."

"No problemo." There is a list of people not to be fucked with. Maine is pretty high up there. He'd be high up there even if he wasn't a merc, because, I'm sorry, have you seen the size of this guy? "Nothing fruity for you either."

"So what brings you here, buddy," Louisiana asks. She finally takes a seat at the bar. Looks like she'll be spending more time here for now.

Nothing fruity for him? "No," Maine says. This is what he usually gets.

Looking at Louisiana, he gestures vaguely to the spots where his other friends are seated. "Night out," he says. "Empty base."

Look, Miss sat-on-a-tuffet already made enough fun of him about mentioning the mercenary-ordered fruity drinks, so he's not about to explain himself. Bro, they're your friends.

Hell, he's even gonna be a good guy and extract himself from the conversation. Before he further embarrasses himself in front of a girl.

"I figured as much. The bartender here is the one who has been keeping me company. Apparently despite my teasing, I'm still a likable person," she says. Louisiana gives the bartender a small wave. "And I didn't even catch your name. Funny how that got skipped over."

Maine looks between Louisiana, the bartender, and his drink. "Church," he says. "Eagle team."

"Damn straight." See? Someone gets it. "All right, so we both know Big Maine on Campus here, so what's your name, little lady?"

Louisiana nods her head. That team thing seemed to make sense with the layout of the bar. "Eagle team? Hunh. Alright then, cool. Louisiana. Enchanté, Church."

"Old friend," Maine says. "Used to work with us."

Before Church can asks why she left, he adds, "Back here on business. We're trying to keep her."

It's not the why she left that's the question to him. "Oh." It's that she's back. "Shit." On 'business'. "Another one? Do you guys just, like, multiply like, uh, like, uhhh," snap snap it'll come to him, "like fucking stray cats or something?"

Rabbits, Church. You're looking for rabbits. But, hey, feral cats work too.

"Stray cats? No. I think the saying involves rabbits. Not cats. I've been here for a while. I'm surprised it took you that long to figure out, Church," Louisiana says with a shrug. "Guess I'm doing my job right."

"Not sure it's that fast," Maine says. He hasn't had much experience with rabbits, but Wash seems to bring home a new stray every other week. Mercenaries don't show up quite so quickly.

"New to me," Church grumbles. And none of the mercs exactly have a look. Or a type. Except 'fucking unstable', that's usually a common denominator.

"The scars I carry don't come from any other line of work, Eagle boy." Louisiana turns to look at him. She thought they were a dead give away. Practically screamed mercenary to most people. "Besides you probably deal with worse people than me."

Maine shrugs. Church doesn't exactly seem the bartender type, though he hasn't seen the man's face to confirm that. Still, he's good enough at his job that Maine won't complain.

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