2019-06-16 - Codeword Banana

It's a lot of money. Lilith is pretty sure 'he' has people for this. In fact, it was maybe part of the deal, but she got things done early and wants them to know she made turn around quicker than expected for the first month, so it's her moment to shine. Or at least she thought it was. Because now she's walking in the club in leather leggings and heels and a silver sleeveless drape top with full makeup and curled hair like she's a total club goer, but she has a shoulder bag of size to match and taking a purse into the club to drink and dance is stupid.

There's also the issue of Hank, her father who gambled a hole straight to hell and has her in this mess... having a scent for cash. It's uncanny. He's like a drunk stupid hound on a trail and he followed her with the excuse to go to the Pourhouse after she parked here. Just a ride, right? He knows she has something in the bag, though, and he keeps asking all the while, even while trying to follow her into the club. At the doorway, she splns on a heel and jabs a finger at him, yanks a twenty from her clevage pocket that isn't part of delivery and says, "Go get drunker, Hank, or I'm breaking your legs myself instead of watching them do it 'cause you're stupid enough to go following me in here. Get. Go. Shoo." She ends the finger point with a slap upside the head, huffs, and strides in.

Hank has twenty bucks, warning and smack from daughter aside. Score. It does the trick and she comes in to pay for his mistakes, wandering to the bar.

At the door, one of the seemingly endless bouncers around this club is so ready to knock Hank's head, having failed to ascertain that the guy is Lilith's dad; he just looks like another drunk slob hounding a chick trying to get into the club. But then it turns out that Lilith has this in hand, so he just flashes her a toothy smile and waves her on in, taking a minute to check out dat ass (because you gotta take it where you can get it when you're a thug working for a thug).

Graham is one step above a thug. Or maybe one step sideways from a thug. Anyway, he doesn't just brain people for a living. But he does wind up tending bar a lot more than he'd like, and is back here right now, doing exactly that. He's just made some sort of stupid drink for some college-aged guys who are down here for the first weekend of summer break - for some unknown reason - and is rolling his eyes at their insistence that he send it down the bar to some college-aged girls who have zero interest in them. But whatever, he walks it on down there, delivers it, points to the source, and shrugs like he's helpless.

And then there's Lilith. Vaguely familiar Lilith? Anyway, he reels back from her for a second, doing a surprised double-take, and then gets his shit together with a quick smile. Not his best smile, but it'll do. "Hey, what can I get you?" Over the top of that annoying... fucking... club music, gr.

Lilith isn't a crime lord and while she's got the strut of knowing where she's going in that focused way that throws off vibes toward any club-bro trying to interrupt her with drink or dance offer flying solo... a totally magical woman trick... it flounders some when she gets to the bar and stares at Graham without any natural response to explain exactly -how- he can help. Do they have code words for this? She wants it to be 'banana' if there's code words and she's unwittingly thinking that when a dude comes up to order a drink for both her and him just as she starts to lean in forward over the bartop to speak below the uhntiss thumps.

"She'll have a Skyy and cranberry and I'll have a--"

Something scotch expensive. Showoff. After staring at -this- guy instead of the hot thug-esque bartender while trying to figure out what to say, she's -real- quick with response, "Nope, you're having a Middle Finger. And the blonde down there is eyefucking you, true story, buzz buzz." Her hand shoos him and he mutters something akin to 'bitch' while moving on, which she either didn't hear or doesn't care about because he's moving and she's wondering of Graham with a vaguely lopsided smile, "So ah. I have something pretty I'm bringing by from the Pawn Shop. But I'll still take the Skyy. Without the pink gay man twist. And lime. Rocks. Salt. Hi. I'm bad at this. Hence the drink. Double too? Please."

Briefly, Graham attends what happens between the guy and the blonde, but unless she throws a drink in his face or takes off her top... yeah, he loses interest pretty quickly, and resumes wearing that fine-but-not-awesome smile at Lilith. He leans forward a little, turning his ear so there's a small possibility that he'll be able to hear her over the GODDAMN IRRITATING music, but nope. "You're gonna have to try that one again. You want vodka on the rocks with a lime and some salt? 'Cauuuuse..."

He turns at the waist to get the bottle of booze in question, looks at it, looks at Lilith, and still can't make heads or tails of what she ordered. "I'll make it, but it sounds fucking gross." To his clearly refined palate. Also, he's clearly not getting her thing about the pawn shop (or he's an asshole and gets it just fucking fine but pretends not to, could go either way on that).

'kay, he's being an asshole. She can kinda tell.

"Yep. Tequila treatment on Russian potato booze. Burns my taste buds away better than a fruit mixer, I like the abuse." Lilith plays it cool because she can't quite initially tell with only having an idea of who Graham is how serious he is or not. Soooo, she stalls and adjusts the bag over her shoulder to give called back upset of ribbing return on her drink choice, "Besides, last bartender I went staying the night with only had 'Coors' and red label Jack in his house so I know how your refined taste buds go behind bars." Most of that kind of gets drowned by the music, but she raises her voice enough to flash teeth neat in brief with the dig.

After looking around for a moment while Graham gets her drink, she squints some and suddenly tells him, bullshit radar going off just enough to dryly gamble that she won't sound totally out of whack and off subject, "... so when I try again, do I use code-word banana or something, or does that just get me the most disgusting schnapps I can imagine? I'd ask you around back so I don't have to yell, but there's this thing about asking hot bartenders to step 'round that generally goes better when they aren't flustering to look at." Then she just downright complains, "It's like he hires male honey pots."

Just playing to type, Graham pauses in the middle of making this drink he thinks sounds gross to take a pull out of a beer bottle. At least it's not Coors? Or Bud Light? But it's still just Dos Equis, so yeah, she may have a point. Anyway, here. He finishes making that drink that has no name and puts it on the bar in front of her, wearing an expression best described as dubious, with the furrowed brows and the morbidly curious frown. This is when he should go off and make drinks for other people, but they're all NPCs, so fuck them; he folds his arms and hangs around a minute, like he's waiting to see the fruits of his labors.

Okay, this time it plays more like legit confusion on his part. "Are you asking to fuck me?" Code-word banana, dude, what's he supposed to think?!

Okay, the music is loud and incessant and the bane of Graham's work existence potentially, but a Bassnectar remix of an Ellie Goulding song Lights comes on hitting hard and Lilith looks instantly distracted and out toward the dance floor while drinking a long, gradual draining tip upward to take her drink with a double back to back swallow. It's both wistful and laden with memory for that heartbeat of distraction on her expressive profile and through her mascara darkened lashes, lashes that quickly take a few quick bats back to looking at the bartender with sudden following snerk of laughing noise.

Leaning forward on the bar she sways some in dancing helpless place and plucks the lime free to put into her mouth and clear before dropping it back into the ice with the chaser juice sucked away to cover some of the vodka burn and lingering, "... do you call your dick a banana? Because in that case probably not, you'd never get it in, I'd laugh too much." Then she heaves out a sigh like she's lamenting her very existence, "Hell, maybe I would anyway, that's a significant kind of measurement, but limits exist for a reason. I can't figure out how much you're fucking with me, so let's try this again--" She curls her fingers to draw him in with a coy little secret suddenly, for all the bar can tell, her leaned there, the music thumping, hair taking a sudden pitch forward with more lean. And if he return leans close, she murmurs with that vodka, lime, and salt on her breath.

"... I'm carrying enough cash to give you full banana. And it's not mine. Maybe you can tell me where it goes so I can get my 'attagirl' pat on the ass instead of broken legs. They're nice legs."

"Nah," about the banana-thing. "Sometimes I call it Khrushchev. That motherfucker was so gangster." 80/20 in favor of Graham being full of shit again - enh, actually, let's take that back to 60/40, 'cause he leans back for a second and glances down at his Khrushchev-area, then nods like he's satisfied with that response.

All right, he'll bite enough to at least lean over and hear what she's saying, though there's a very defined respect for personal space in the way he does this. This is his side of the bar, over here, and that's hers, over there, and he's not crossing that line. Which is a good thing, since he reels back quickly after what she's said gets through to him. "You walked in here with a bag fulla cash?" he deduces, then laughs like that's just goddamn hilarious. Still snickering, "A'ight, well, just so you know? In the future? Fucking call first." There's a real 'amateurs' tolerance to the way he rolls his eyes, beckoning with a lifted hand toward the GIGANTIC BLACK BOUNCER that minds the door to the back room.

"... I'm still saying codeword banana when I call first." How serious Lilith is when she says that is anyone's guess, but it seems to be all she really has to say in regards to that logical advice. Yep. Call first. Should have done that and the obviousness is kind of written on her like a 'duh' moment. It's split second, though, before her quip and she also looks right at Graham's crotch when he does, because why not. Things with Russian names tend to sound dangerous or official, "Your dick sounds like he carries a bat and Tolstoy, by the way. Assuming it has arms or a gravitational pull field to do that sort of thing..."

Then she sees the giant black bouncer and her head tilts, tacking on, "Y'know what... I'm going to think of a new code word so I don't accidentally piss him off." After drawing in a breath, she shoves straight and with more genuine smile than matches her dry humor under the music, gussied up red club lips at slant, she tells Graham on the way to handle business, "Thanks."

She seems to have a better idea of what to do when she reaches Andre, this time, "Delivery service." She hefts the bag up and down with adjustment on her shoulder and ticks her head a little toward the door, "Lilith Winslow. Early with it."

Again, "Nah. But he did supposedly go to the theater in the middle of the Cuban Missile Crisis, which is pretty much the rock-hardest thing I can imagine anyone doing ever." Hence the name. But, again, Graham is probably making all this shit up as he goes along, so take it with a grain of salt (and a shot of vodka and a squeeze of lime, since that's her thing). He head-tilts while Lilith is rethinking her code-word, and he should just let it go but, "Why, exactly? Is it a race thing or...?"

It's fine. She doesn't have to answer. Graham should probably get back to making drinks, anyway.

Leaving Andre to look at the bag with no clue WTF she means. He looks to Graham for a clue, but Graham's not giving him one, just making drinks for the next bar-tramp in line. So, he says something (but he's not bright enough to say it loud enough for Lilith to hear it over the un-tss music), and he goes into the back room. Maaaaaybe he'll come back in a minute? And maybe he's just gonna leave Lilith standing there forever?

So Lilith waits and cusses herself under her breath because she didn't expect crime to be hard and need code words and calls and-- okay, she's actually -done- the hard parts, she just wanted to look on the up and up and instead she looks like an eager little overachiever. Or at least she's feeling like one to detriment, actually, the longer she waits. In fact, she starts to pace a little bit and when a guy comes up to ask her to dance that energy off with daring detour toward the back door while the bouncer is gone, she just throws up her hands and makes a little 'ugh' noise at him, which backs him up quickly because he's pulling her out of a downward spiral of brooding nerves. At least he can take a hint without her having to bullshit more words through the music. A single woman in a club in heels is a -thing-, and she's known that, but thought it'd help her blend, not buy her buzzing bee distractions.

Eventually, the way her brows turn down to hard knit and she stills, she might be thinking of killing Hank herself by the time Andre comes back out. It helps her stop looking nervewracked, at least.

It takes a while. Like, a long while. Song after song after song. But eventually! That big guy comes back and fetches Lilith. She's gonna get a pat-down in the back room, and Andre's a nice guy; he makes chit-chat with her while he paws through the bag she brought, and he compliments her silver shirt and tells her about how he had a silver Pez dispenser for a while but then it got taken away. 🙁 Actually, it was gray and had the donkey from Shrek on it, but it still got taken away, but he thinks he'll get it back pretty soon.

Up the stairs, and into Felix's office. Where the man, the myth, the legend sits at a desk and takes her money and explains for her, in the future, to call first and don't just show up at his place of business with a bag full of money. Lilith must be lucky, because she gets to go home unharmed (aside from her ego, mebbe). Even Andre will comment on the way out, after that meeting, about how he's really glad Felix decided to not be mad at her, because he didn't want to have to make her take a nap, those pants look like they would not be comfortable to sleep in!

Lilith honestly wasn't expecting to see Felix himself, and she disclaimers a packed weapon for Andre during the pat down and bag search for him to hold onto because she may have went about things like an amateur, but she was at least carrying heat to protect what she was carrying and explains that much in brief after taking the time to listen about pez dispensers with mild surprise about his enthusiasm on pez matters given what Andre... looks like. She also probably didn't need the gun to protect the bag on the way, but that's something else entirely not worth mention to most people or something she favors remembering.

When the meeting turns out with her chastised, her pride isn't flaring, she's just embarrassed about being logically bad at certain criminal aspects like a newbie, but the envelop she drops gives her personal respite of rebound to walk out with compliance and her chin up at stride-- it's got almost twice the projected amount left behind to make up for where she sucks a little bit at things.

But most of all, she's relieved that Felix didn't look at her like Graham did.