2019-07-02 - An Advice of Bartenders

All things being equal, Jay is an all right bartender. He only has to check how to make a drink maybe once a night, and only the first time someone asks for it, and only if it's really kind of one of those things you only see people asking for in chic movies about hipsters falling in love when really what they're in love with is the grandma scarves. At the moment, he's behind the bar, leaning on it with his elbows. It's early, there's not much movement yet, and everyone so far is content with their orders. He's reaching behind his back underhanded style with ridiculous elasticity and scratching right between his shoulder blades, rubbing a little. Like he's scratching something he doesn't want to put too much pressure on. He makes that 'aaahhhh' face everyone makes when an itch is scratched.

Considering the usual backup for Easton at the bar is a waitress who could care less about the 'correct' way to mix a drink as much as getting it back to the table, Jay is ahead of the pack. Easton comes out of the back offices and approaches the bar, offering a nod at Jay he pulls out a stool and awkwardly takes a seat with a bit of a hop. "Alright, softball for ya. Double jack and coke please."

Jay whips his arm out from behind his back and says, "Sure thing." He has a little flare--good hand-eye coordination is a gift--but he's not trained in the art of making bartending look fun. It's efficient, though. He sets the drink in front of Easton and then leans on the bar again, looking at ease. "So how's tricks, anyway?" he reaches behind his back again, damn itch.

Before he can come inside, Graham has to linger by the door. Because being a smoker sucks, and he needs to finish his cigarette before he's allowed to come inside. Also his phone call. He tosses the butt off somewhere that it's not likely to burn anything down, stuffs the phone into his pocket, and rolls in through the door, taking stock with a look around of the 'definitely not a regular customer' variety. It takes a minute for his eyes to adjust; surely, he will have something to contribute after that.

Easton looks actually well rested for once, a state that is entirely unfamiliar to him and all his coworkers. He takes a drink and gives a half-shrug at the question. "Not bad, actually." He looks around and says, "I take it you aren't exactly raking it in right now, but I appreciate you taking the shift." He knows that bartending during the day is not really anyone's first choice but someone's got to do it.

Jay shrugs. "It happens. It's something to do, anyway. Otherwise I'd be sleeping in at the trailer. Might as well be here." He smiles. "You look better rested than any other time I've seen you. What's up? You get knocked around yesterday in bed and finally get some sweet, sweet, R-E-M?" Jay does not have boundaries. You have to constantly set boundaries around Jay. It's a way of life.

When one enters a bar, one walks up to the bar. Even if one isn't allowed to smoke in the bar (probably that's the fault of democrats somehow). Anyway, Graham - now that he can see - makes his way up to the bar with a socially correct smile in place, flashed between Jay and Easton. It's the latter that has him snapping his fingers a couple times and then asking of Easton, "Two of Diamonds?" Right into their conversation. Manners are overrated.

Anyone who paid too much attention to the comings and goings of the town might be surprised to see Eli making his way into the bar that evening. He has lived here forever, but certainly isn't a regular. Eli pushes through the door a few seconds after Graham, nose wrinkling from the smell of smoke left lingering in the air outside. He's wearing comfortable jeans and a simple black t-shirt, looking about as unassuming as a person can. He follows the same path as Graham had before him and leans against the bar not far away, waiting to make his own order.

Easton's not exactly one to worry about boundaries, and certainly isn't shy. He just nods and says, "Something like that, yea." in response to Jay's inquiry about him getting rest. He looks over as Graham starts snapping his fingers, no apparent recognition on his face, even after being 'asked' about a red two. Then it dawns on him, "Queen of England!" He seems rather proud of himself for having come up with that memory, even if it sounds like they are doing some terrible spy call and answer, or discussing some weird novelty deck of cards. "His drinks on me." is said to Jay, "Pretty sure I drank half yer bottle the other night losing to you two."

"Weirdos," Jay says without an ounce of judgment. He tips his chin up at Graham and Elias and asks, "What'll it be, gents?" If Easton turned this place into a speakeasy, Jay could rock a vest, just saying.

A chin-tip from Graham to Eli has that vague 'seen you around town but prolly dunno your name' quality of greeting to it, which pairs appropriately to Graham's in-public smile. Then he's getting called the Queen of England, and the smile becomes a grin, dimples and all. "I forgot all about that, man. I was druuuunk. You just make your way from bar-to-bar or what? And thanks," for the drink he's getting bought. He bumps his hands on the bar, drumming mutedly, looking beyond Jay as if for inspiration. Finally, "Let's do a whiskey sour."

"If I identify as the four-of-spades will I get something on your tab too?" Eli wonders, his voice quiet but clear, eyes shifting between Graham and Easton as they exchanged their oddly coded message. He tilts his head in a small nod toward Graham as well, no doubt having seen him before. He sees a lot of people, though. His attention swings back to Jay. "I'll have a gin and tonic. Thanks."

Easton nods in agreement with Jay at the crack about being a weirdo. It's also a good thing he can't read meta, because there would be many angry words about hipsters and faux nostalgia should the concept of his bar ever being turned into anything resembling a speak easy. He laughs at Graham and agrees, "Yup! I think you caught me mid bender, which is probably better than the end tail. Never ends well." He shrugs at the comment about going bar to bar, "Basically. I actually work at this one though, so next time you're buying by the bottle, stop on in." Granted the more touristy crowd might not agree with rowdy drinking games, but Easton's just fine with that. Leaning behind Graham to see who spoke, Easton doesn't recognize Eli from anywhere just yet. "Sure. You sign a napkin stating your name is Four-of-Spades, I'll buy you a drink."

"Whiskey sour, gin and tonic." Jay gets to work, listening to the other guys talk as he does. He's efficient, without too much of a flare for anything. Then again, they didn't exactly order cocktails that need any shaking or flipping or any of that.

"You got it, man. Next time I decide to buy a bottle, I'll make sure to get you hammered at your place of business." Graham watches Jay back there with idle interest, catching up his drink afterward with a nod of thanks. "So you're a bartender." With the pointing at Easton. "And you're a bartender." With the pointing at Jay. "And I'm a bartender." Both thumbs cock his way. And he turns the questioning look upon Eli, brows up. "Convention?"

"I didn't realize this was a support group." Eli replies, lips tugging at a smile when Graham navigates around the small crowd and eventually lands on him. He shakes his head. "Not a bartender. But, I can mix a decent manhattan, which is really half the battle." He snares himself a napkin and finds a pen that was discarded nearby from some credit card slip having been signed. He sketches a very crude playing card and a spade that looks more like a heart. Beneath it he writes: 'My name is Four-of-Spades'. Then he writes the same thing above in French, making it looks nice and symmetrical.

"I'm pretty sure a group of bartenders is called a 'shoulder' or an 'advice', depending on the species in question," Jay says with a smirk. He sets the gin and tonic down near Elias, and the whiskey sour in front of Graham.

"Bartenders!" Easton raises a glass to that even though it wasn't a toast per say. But then Eli has to rain on the parade, "Aw, that's okay Four, you're a bartender, in my heart." What does that even mean?! Easton doesn't bother explaining since there isn't one and continues "Yea we meet second Monday of every month and discuss best way to underpour and still get over tipped." He smirks at the thoughts of what far more serious issues a bartender support group would actually entail. He laughs at Jay's joke, and nods, "I would have gone with a 'degenerate of bartenders' but maybe I'm stereotyping."

Drumming his fist on the bar again, a little louder this time, Graham contributes, "I would like to add an agenda item, gentlemen. How to still get over-tipped," he lowers a nod toward Easton for the term, "without getting the shit beat out of you by your girlfriend 'cause it looks like you're about to take a bar-tramp home with you. Discuss." While he sips his drink, tipping it toward Jay afterward in a silent approval of how it turned out, GG newbro. He also leans over, not quite in Eli's personal space but not far from it, to see what the dude is doing to the napkin, like it's any of his business. "Way to commit," with an approving nod.

Eli finishes the questionable artwork and pushes it down the bar toward Easton, raising his glass in a brief toast toward the degenerate of bartenders. He takes a sip and nods to himself, taking another. That's good. "I suppose it depends if you have a history of actually escorting your customers home with you, or if it's strictly business that stays at the bar. It's important to do your best work when you're on the clock. If you actually bring it home with you, well, she likely has a fair case to kick your ass."

"Hey," Jay says, trying to look offended. "There's plenty of decent bartenders who aren't degenerates." He wipes the bar, and adds, "Just because there aren't any currently present doesn't mean a thing." He leans against the bar and then snorts at Graham. "That's easy," Jay says with a shake of his head. "Just, you know..." He leans in and makes a 'duh' face: "Don't have a girlfriend." Ta-dah. But then, Jay's solutions to life often involve avoiding the problem entirely.

Easton gives Jay a solid 'please' look as he tries to protest, until he gets to the punchline and he chuckles ruefully. He looks thoughtfully at Eli's take at the question and smirks at Jay's before adding his own. "I got nothing. I'm still learning that the step one is to stop actually fucking the bar tramps, I'm pretty sure that's the wrong answer." Sure he can joke about it now, but that's because his girlfriend isn't there. "But yer shit outta luck if that was your girlfriend the other night? Bro, she's gonna cut you before you realize where you screwed up."

Sucking in a breath across his teeth after that sip (or maybe after the perfectly reasonable clause), Graham attempts to toe the line of truth delicately. "Not exactly," for having a history of escorting customers home with him (which is a big lie and one that fails to land because he totally did that shit). "I may or may not have done some things in the past?" Anyway, he sputters into his glass after that, 'cause Jay's suggestion hits him right on the funny-bone. "That's kinda the part I'm trying to avoid, the part where she dumps me." And he nods at Easton, 'cause yeah; he's gonna get cut. 🙁 "Or yeah. Cuts my heart out and eats it." He sighs dramatically.

"Sounds like she's gonna cut himn exactly where he screwed up," says Jay, then puts his hand on his mouth like 'oooooooh no he dint', and then moseys off to go tend to some newly arrived customers.

Eli is pretty reserved with his expressions, but the amusement touches his eyes and a smile wraps around the lip of his glass when he takes another grin, giving a small shake of his head. "I'd think every man should be lucky to have a woman in his life that cares enough for him to cut him up if he goes the way of the tom cat." He remarks, giving his glass a little shake and watching the ice spin around. "I'd say you should keep that one close. And perhaps sleep lightly." He looks down the bar so he can see both Easton and Graham. "I've never tended bar, so hadn't really thought about it. You two get a lot of positive attention from your customers?" He can't bring himself to call them bar tramps, clearly.

Clearing his throat suddenly Easton, gives the same near eye-roll look of 'please' at Graham's failed bullshit and votes, "May. Definitely may." In a tone that will not accept any challenges to that decision. He is also slowly realizing that maybe this is more of a pertinent topic than the jokes he's cracking. His smile fades just a touch as he considers that before Eli's question which brings the grin back. He says modestly, "It's been known to happen.", not really bothering to hide the smile that says he's underplaying that.

"First off," Graham begins importantly, rolling his head to settle a bland look upon Easton and his throat-clearing. "I was single at the time." There's no 'second off,' so hopefully no one is waiting for him to make the rest of that point. He leans back from the bar a little, casting a look around the particular flavor of patrons that populate this joint. "I work at the Firefly Club, so it's a little different." Helpless shrug. "What do you do, man? Other than listening to bartenders complain about how they gotta fend off women, woe is us."

"Firefly? A friend invited me to come over there one of these night." Eli comments mildly. Not a big stretch to say he doesn't really look like the type. He takes another sip from his drink and sets it back on the counter, fixing his attention on the other two men a bit more fully. "I do translation work. Mostly fiction novels these days. Sometimes other things. Very different than minding a bar - very little interaction with real people." In case that wasn't obvious. "Pays the bills, though. And nice to be able to live wherever I want."

Easton laughs at Graham and says, "Hey, not worried if ya weren't." He is hardly one to judge, especially in light of recent events. He ohs and says "The Firefly.. huh. I keep meaning to do that one night." 'Do that' being go out, possibly now with Bennie to said club. Not that he's hugely into that scene, but she might like it. He then slaps Graham on the arm as if he's just had an epiphany. "There's yer answer. You redirect the tramp-stamps and a get Four here laid. He's .." Easton takes another look and declares "..passable. Girls get some. Four gets some. You still get tipped."

Like he knows everyone who would ever breathe the name of that club, Graham asks, "Oh yeah? Who's your friend?" Shifting to lean on his elbows and really make that one drink of his laaaaast, now kinda clinking the ice around in the mostly empty glass, he drums up another of those helpless looking shrugs of his. "Enh, the club's all right if you like to dance. Or if you're twenty-one and just dunno any better yet." Says the wizened twenty-five-year-old. "But come by, we gotta new bartender, order something way out there and see how she handles it." A grin blooms into place at the brand new plan to solve everyone's problems by foisting bar-tramps onto Eli, flashed between Easton and Eli in that order. Oh but wait, "Unless by 'friend' you mean friend?"

"Passable." Eli repeats, squinting down into his glass for a moment. "Passable Four of Spades. About as unremarkable as you can find, but still useful in the right context." He takes up his glass for another sip, shaking his head with that amused half-smile on his lips while they outline their plan. "It's nice of you to include me in this potential tramp laundering scheme, but I'll have to pass. I am seeing someone." Simple as that. He focuses his attention a bit more on Graham, something lighting in his eyes when he mentions the new bartender. "It was her. Evergreen. Dahlia. She said we should come to the club." A brief pause before he clarifies - "She's a friend friend." No bold text.

"Aw, don't worry, after a couple of drinks you'd be upgraded to fuckable." That's some odd reassurance for Eli, especially with the grin on Easton's face as he says it. He finishes off his Jack and Coke as well. At the talk of a new bartender he smirks and says, "Yea well feel free to throw this guy for a loop too when he gets back, he's still on trial run." Indicating wherever Jay went off to. He seems disappointed that Eli is seeing someone though and shakes his head, "Aw, too bad. We coulda wingman'ed the shit outta you."

Guys, this is how rumors get started: Before the 'no bold text,' Graham asks, "Your girlfriend is Dahlia Evergreen?" And here's why there was a composure check, to be able to deliver this question without his eyebrows shooting up, just smilingly casual. "How long've you guys been - ahhh, a'ight." There, he actually listened to Eli's 'friend friend' clarification. "What's your name, man?" He's all ready with the handshake and to supply, "I'm Graham." And he head-tilts toward Easton to add, "I know that dude's name, but fuck-all if I can remember it right now." He tries, though, looking at Easton like inspiration will strike. "Wesley?"

"No - she's - right." Eli says, finding some relief that the clarification seems to have landed. That would have been a fun rumor to try to deal with once it was set loose in the dry grass of a small town. "I'm not sure I would have been great pilot material, but alas, we'll not find out. If anything changes I'll seek you out and we'll give it a try." It's an unconvincing promise at best. He reaches to take Graham's hand to shake it, while looking past the man toward 'Wesley'. "I would have pegged him as a Peter. Or a Dale?" He suggests, shaking his head. "I'm Eli Blake. Nice to meet you both. I'm sure I've seen your face around, Graham. I've been around town a long time."

Easton throws his hands up in the air and says, "You're terrible at this. You didn't even last a one drink. You signed a napkin and everything Four." Yea... Easton's not letting that go apparently, up to and including berating him for getting his name 'wrong.' He does supply "Easton." He winces at 'Dale' though, "Ouch. But fair." He did call him passable and is also only referring to him as Four.

"Easton. Wesley. Basically the same fucking thing. What kinda name is Easton, anyway?" Says the guy named after a kind of cracker. The WHITE guy, no less. Graham finishes off the handshake, squinting at Eli afterward like he's trying to place the face. "Probably? You don't own the laundromat off Elm, do you? 'Cause, no matter what you heard, I had nothing to do with that place's change machines getting robbed. I was in Hoquiam at the time." Alibis. Graham's got 'em (for example, he was drinking with Eli Blake and some dude named Wesley...).

Eli blinks toward Easton. It's that kind of expression that says he's entirely clueless - until the mention of the napkin and it clicks into place. "I really am pretty terrible at this." Blue eyes shift to the nearby napkin and he gives a small shake of his head. "Goes to show that you shouldn't believe everything you read. Least of all from some sketchy stranger you meet in a bar. Bad news." He takes up his drink, taking one last pull and just leaving it with the ice in the bottom, listening to the correct name and reaching over to shake Easton's hand as well. "Graham. Easton. Going to see about remembering. Never been great with names."

Easton waits for it to sink in, with an expectant look and a patronizing, "There ya go." when Eli remembers. He shrugs at Graham and says "Family name." It is, more specifically old money family name. But he shakes Eli's hand and says, "That's ok, I'll answer to just about anything." The question from Graham gets a look and he can't help but ask, "Change machines?" Because that's what he's wondering about in this story.

"Apparently, somebody rolled up in a pick-up and stole a coupla change machines out of the laundromat. I?" Graham straightens from the bar when his phone buzzes, gives it a momentary glance, winds up putting a buck down on the bar 'cause what kind of asshole doesn't leave a tip, yanno? "Don't drive a pick-up. Plus, I was in Hoquiam at the time." That's his story, and he's sticking to it. "I gotta duck out. Eli, nice to meet you. Easton, thanks for the drink. You gentlemen enjoy your evenings."

"You clearly weren't involved." Eli agrees. Seems to be what the man wants to hear and what does he really care? He digs in his wallet and pulls out a tip to drop aside the money that Graham left. "I should be on my way back home too. It was nice to meet you both. I'll keep you in mind if I need any help in my love life. Or spare change." Which, of course, Graham doesn't have. He slips off his seat, getting himself ready to head out too.