2019-12-08 - Friends in 'Low' Places

Still slapping at his pants as he finds more metal shavings stuck to him, Leon shoves his way into the Pourhouse using his backside. He gives a brief look around before heading toward the bar, unzipping his self-branded jacket and pulling it off. Tossing it over a stool, he slides onto the seat, cussing as his elbow hits the bar and he discovers another shaving stabbing him. He picks it out with his nails and grabs a menu. It was a bar food kind of night.

Maggi, in distressed jeans and a sleeveless black turtleneck that showed a few inches of midriff, approaches almost without looking up from behind the bar. She has a towel slung over her shoulder, and her golden hair is braided opposite the shaved side. It was her first night, and she hadn't quite gotten the hang of anything yet. Nervous as she was , outwardly she is collected and even aloof.

"What can I get you..." a look of shocked realization crosses her icy eyes, changing the way the statement finished, "Solider." She hadn't returned his last text in several days. After meeting with her adviser the focus had been on the new pile of requirements and she had just started this job...this was awkward...

Her eyes stare at the counter, cloth falling to it as she pretends to clean something absently.

Stefhan has figured that, one way or another, he should venture out and explore, especially being an 'out of towner' that might need to experience a few things in Gray Harbor. He peers around a bit, noting the frayed edges of the carpet and quirking a brow for a moment. In response to what he sees, he dusts himself off a bit then takes a moment to see who may frequent such a place. Then, he sees Leon and, whoa boy, large fella. He makes a mental note NOT to piss him off. In fact, if Maggi speaks to him first, he does nothing to get in the way. Solider might be a good thing to say, the other guy is huge, at least in his eyes.

Leon himself has a bit of a false start at the question, the sudden realization of seeing Maggi making his mouth shut without sound after the first breath. Then a slow smile creeps over it. He holds up a hand to indicate a height pretty similar to Maggi's, "I dunno, ma'am. Usually I go for something about yay high and blond, but I'll settle for a double bourbon so I don't bother her overmuch."

He grins at her and winks, but his face takes on a more innocent look as he hunches his shoulder and makes a brief wave, as if trying to banish any sort of negative emotion the overly flirtatious opening was. He knew the bartender Hustle was a tough one. He pulls his card out and sets it across the bar, "Tab me, top me up when you have time. Not picky."

Strangely, he does turn to look when Stefhan gets close, but offers an amicable grin. Sure, he was big, but he seemed pretty friendly.

Maggi rolls her blue eyes adding a double bourbon (Not rail, she knew better) and a thing of cheese fries to a tab under the name "Solider". Bending down she fills a simple tumbler with ice and shots, sliding it across to him easily. "You pay like everyone else, you get the same rude service as everyone else." Her tone is sarcastic, her words partially serious. It was more that likely she would soften up over time, but the last thing she wanted for now was someone screwing with her. She could possibly make an exception to her case of RBF for the newcomer who had walked in though. She noticed he was certainly pretty and almost seemed lost. A rye smile spreads across her face as she pulls a menu from behind the counter, waving a beckoning hand toward him. "I won't bite unless you like it" she says coolly. This was probably a joke, probably...

Stefhan smirks a little and makes his way over. "Lost promises." he muses, who knows what he is referring to though. With a bit of a smile, not too much of one though, he nods a friendly nod in Leon's direction then looks back over at Maggi. "Likely best I do not have anything too strong. Bad habits, a bit hard to break. Do you happen to have an O'doul's though? That has a tendency not to get me into much trouble."

Still respecting the hustle, Leon is quick to bury his face in the bourbon glass at the biting comment with the equally suggestive reply. His grin well hidden behind an arm as he turns his face aside, he wipes off the corner of his mouth with finger and thumb before he looks back at the man.

Leon also notices that the order got some weird looks from a patron down the bar. Leon very carefully stares down the old bearded drunkard until he looks away, "O'douls is a little weird of an order for the Pourhouse." Leon ventures.

Tilting her head Maggi ponders the earlier beer list she had memorized, tilting her head quizzically. A challenge, her favorite kind of customer. The smile spreads to a cheshire grin. "Closest we are going to have is a Hellraiser I think. Owner is big on local. Non-alcoholic dark amber if that's all right?" She is already putting a plastic red soda up with water in front of him.

Towards Leon she shoots off a retort as she awaits the athletic patrons answer. "Hey now we stock close to it." Maggi knows for a fact that if she aims this at the familiar face, the grumbles at the other end will have a harder time starting a fuss. If her starting her day on occasion with vodka in coffee could be normative, so could this order. Her steely gaze moves back to the man in front of her.

Stefhan glances over at Leon and yup, large guy, like the size of a professional wrestler large guy. Don't want to make him mad or anything, nooooooooooooooo. So, a compliment it is, "I admit I do not have proper knowledge of the best drinks when and where so, I am fortunate to have your expertise on the matter good Sir." his tone a bit formal, likely too formal, "I thank you for the recommendation but sadly, harsh drinks, have led me down a path I regret." But the mention of non-alcoholic amber does intrigue him, "That would be grand, if it is not much trouble for you."

Leon picks up what Maggi was putting down. All part of the ire-deflection from the usual rowdy crowd in this bar. His voice was lower now, not the stage delivery meant to carry for an audience, "Zero judgement. I've had plenty of brothers who had to do the same. We're all built different." Which is likely hysterical coming from a giant like Leon, he leans an elbow on the bar and nurses his own bourbon. His other arm is offered, "Leon."

The weather's miserable. Whatever urge Joe may have had to unmoor his boat and get the hell out of Dodge - it's not happening today. There is no dramatic flash of lightning or crack of thunder as he comes in, just the lash of cold rain against the windows. He shoulders the door open, pulls off the black watchcap he's wearing, exposing hair left in disarray. He's in a dark peacoat, jeans, gloves - those get pulled off, too, as he comes limping for the bar, as if his joints were hurting him. Some of that gingerliness is in evidence as he hitches up on a stool, finds his balance, and looks around for who's tending bar.

Carefully, a slender arm reaches into a standing fridge stocked with a row of beers from 'WellBeing'. Popping the top on one she reaches for a beer glass off a shelf, tilting it and pouring the amber contents along the side. The head on it is minimal but still existent. She may or may not have had to practice that with a terrible pack of very cheap beer the night before in her apartment. Allowing herself a small fist pump, she places both glass and can beside the water. The person who trained her had mentioned this was so a patron could know what they were drinking. Into the computer she nicknames the blonde 'Mister Manners'.

She probably had a good two minutes on grabbing the cheese fries Leon did not yet know he had ordered, sauntering down to the newest arrival. "Do you need a menu sir?" Maggi's face was going to be killing her when she got home, this being the most she had forced herself to smile in a long while.

Stefhan hears what Mr. Muscle says and nods, "My brothers and I don't talk often, but yes, no two people are the same." When the hand is offered he extends it and gives a friendly shake, "Stefhan." the introduction being official. Then he smiles at Maggi and takes the offered drink, "Ah yes, exactly what I needed and hoped for. Just a good drink, no need for other food or libations at this time."

"What the fuck kinda..." drifts down the bar, and Leon's face immediately goes hard, the old greybeard immediately having to look away again as he catches Leon's glare full in the face. He holds the look another long moment before breaking into a smile again. The likening to actual siblings makes him chuckle. If his Brothers were actually family... Yeesh...

He turns his head toward the other new arrival, looking him over. Ok, this one probably wasn't gonna go picking fights, if Joseph's bearing told Leon anything. "Fucking tough night out, ain't it?"

"Uh, yes, please, ma'am," Joe says, without hesitation, giving Maggi an absent little smile. He finally seems to have found a comfortable perch on the stool. "nd I'll have a Jack an' Coke, please." The accent's somewhere deep South - he's a long way from home.

At Leon's comment, he glances over, grins. "Yeah, it's a hell of a mess out there. Glad I got somewhere to stay on land, or I'd be shakin' around like dice in a cup on the boat." No, he doesn't seem in the least spoiling for a fight. Not by that weary air, and the way he holds himself.

She nods to the older man, winking at Stefhan, she takes his menu and passes it down. She was grateful the latest addition had given her some specifics also, a relief coming over her at not having to delve into unfamiliar territory. She knew Leon's tastes, and she knew beers, dark liquor in general was shallow waters of knowledge. In another shorter glass she scoops some ice and eyeball's a shot of Jack Daniel's into it. Using the soda hose, she adds four parts coke, adding a cocktail straw which she gives a few stirs. She places this easily atop a cocktail napkin on the bar adjacent to the man who had ordered it.

About that time she heard a bell ding, spinning to grab a thing of cheese fries which she deposits in front of Leon. She does not wait for his reaction to them, but he had grabbed a menu without ordering. As an after thought she slides the ketchup to him before starting a tab for 'Jack Daniels'.

Stefhan drinks at least half of his brew and puts a large sized tip on the counter for Maggi. A wink is given to her as well and he stands up, "Keep the change." he says, "This drink will do me justice. Good flavor, not as much guilt." Though he does nod toward the gentlemen, "Keep the pretty lady safe for tonight, yes? I'm sure she has a lot of admirers who come around more than they should. But, alas, time to part. May good fortunes find you all." And with that, he turns th go.

Leon smirks at the fries, then Maggi. The fries are set halfway between himself and her end of the bar, easy reach. He grabs some cocktail napkins and makes himself a ketchup pool also in easy reach. Then he munches. Again, there's a weird reaction from down the bar to Stefhan's super proper language. Leon's voice is actually raised, glaring down the bar, "Henry, I swear to God!" Again, he buys the rude man's silence, albeit just as much confusion. How did he know the old timer's name? He turns a more amicable smile Stefhan's way to say goodbye, waving, then turning back to his drink and food.

"Thank you," Joe says, politely. Mostly occupied in running his eye down the menu. Stefhan gets a lifted hand in greeting, but no more. "I'll have a burger, please, medium if you can." He's not nursing that drink, as if there were nothing more potent in it than caffeine. Stay up and be drunk , what a combination.

The grunge girl could not help but give a genuine smile to the mannered man as he leaves, giving a small "Take care!" He was really sweet, she feared for him, but hoped he stayed such. If she had to guess she would bet he liked to read. She gathers up the can, glass, and payment when he is halfway to the door, not wanting to seem overly eager to see him go. The cup is turned onto a dishwasher rack, the can recycled. Maggi holds the money in long fingers, but waits when she hears the man to her left begin to order, giving him her full attention. "Fries with that?" she asks genuinely. There is no judgement in her eyes at the speed in which he is downing his drink, he seemed like he knew how to handle himself. She holds out her other hand for his menu, awaiting his answer and adding "Also I'm Maggi if you need anything."

Leon finally has a moment to ponder, looking down the way toward Joseph. As the menu is handed over, the man's arms are clearly visible to Leon, and he was having a hard time not just gaping at them. After a beat and a fortifying drink from his tumbler, he tries to cover it over, "What's the ink say?" He taps his own arm in the spot Joseph had the script. He notices his glass was empty, and simply sets it nearer to Maggi. He knew she could get to it whenever.

"Yes, please," Joe says, to the question of fries. With only a t-shirt now that he's taken off the peacoat, both the scars and the ink are on display....and he's self-conscious of neither. Then there's Leon's query, and he looks down at the scarlet and black tattoo with a kind of fond amusement, as if at a remembered joke. "It says 'Cosmonaut'."

She takes the journeying menu back with a grin and adds the order into the system, then prioritizing cashing out the cash order. Maggi adds another double on Leon's tab, refilling his glass easily. Thinking of his nearby van, she shuffles to put a water before him. Reaching into a sanitary bucket she pulls a a wet washcloth and wipes the bar down listening. The cosmonaut had the magnetism too, making common denominator's even more difficult to to figure out. She would say everyone had it, but the mannered man had not...

Almost as floored by this as the gruesome looking scar, Leon had thankfully not taken a sip from his fresh drink yet. "Sorry, what?" He asks incredulously. Drink, fries, ketchup and now water (that he makes a point to make an appreciative expression to Maggi for) are all slid one seat down so he can sidle up to Joseph. "Ok, how does Deep South end up with a Cosmonaut tattoo, cause it sounds like a hell of a story." For all appearances, Leon seems very genuine in his interest. Maybe he was an astronaut fanboy.

The hint of amusement becomes a full-blown grin, at that....and whatever Joe went through to put a pair of suicide scars on him, the lines of his face are those of good humor and good nature. "Well," he says, stretching the word out deliberately. "You lose a bet, but keep your word. I had words with someone who believed that since the Soviets got there first, their term for those who've made it into orbit and beyond should be universal. He did have kind of a point - at the moment, the only manned launch site in the world is in ex-Soviet territory, at least until NASA and SpaceX get their collective acts together and make Kennedy a going concern for human spaceflight again. We're riding Russian rockets and returning in Russian vehicles, so, arguably, we're cosmonauts. I disagreed. And then I lost a wager as to who could drink who under the table."

Seeing Henry grow rowdy at the end of the bar, Maggi disappears for a moment to get him another beer. She hopes she wouldn't miss too much of this conversation, it was certainly interesting. She checks on a few other patrons and looks to make sure the burger was not yet ready, returning to hear Leon's reaction.

"Leon." he offers a hand shake with his meaty paw after wiping the fry grease off on his pants, remembering his manners, "Is that really true? We're not the ones launching anymore?" Sip drink, eat fry, listen intently. Something felt right about this one. "Isn't Musk trying to privatise space flight? Or at least make it cheaper and possible?" Leon only knew what he read in the paper, Joseph just seemed to know his shit.

He also wipes a hand off before taking the offered one, shaking it. His hands are callused, worn - his grip's firm, but not so much so as to make it a pissing contest. "Oh, yeah. There hasn't been a manned launch from Kennedy since the last Space Shuttle mission in 2011. It's been Kazakhstan for eight years. Supposedly, yeah, Musk's company Space X will launch a crewed vehicle this year. He wants to use reusable vehicles to bring costs down. There's a lot of private investment in spaceflight going on now - Bezos has Blue Origin, there are others...we'll see. "

The bell dings and Maggi places the food in front of Joe, whom she mentally called Jack. Next to him is put rolled silverware. Not to interrupt a man's conversation, she simply leaves it by him, figuring he would let her know anything he needed at his convenience. Going to the speakers hooked to her iphone, she plays "Low" by Cracker. Next up was "Space Cowboy".

Leon's about to ask another question when the line Maggi had clearly set up of course plays. His eyes were wide, his grin painted on as his head slowly rotates toward their golden haired bartender, a forced expression like 'Really? Are you kidding me?' He can't help but laugh and cradle his forehead in a hand, muttering before leading into the real question, "Fuck, ok, but tell me about yourself. How do you know all about this stuff?"

It takes Joe a moment to realize the joke - then there's that grin again. He turns to look at Maggi, raising his glass to her in amused salute, before taking a bite of the burger. "I'm Joe," he adds, when he can speak again, turning back to Leon. "How do I know? I used'a be Navy, served on carriers," He taps the tattoo on the other forearm, an old style anchor wound with frayed rope. "Mos'ly they picked Navy pilots to fly the Shuttle. Knew a bunch of guys who went on to work for NASA."

He's eliding a lot. Namely, his own mission history.

Maggi gives a toothy smile to the pair, carrying a rack of glasses to the back kitchen. This was good for Leon, that much she was fully aware of. Maybe this would even push him to take some more damn photographs...

She comes back out a few moments later and collects a few payments. It was a week night so things would be winding down relatively soon minus a few people here or there. That is what she had been told anyway. She checks her phone anxiously, no hits on her ad yet. She needed the hours pretty bad.

"Well I'm glad I shook your hand, cause that's amazing. What's your all time high?" Leon remembers his water, not trying to have to leave his work van in the Pourhouse's parking lot again. Maggi walking past almost always draws his eye, and a soft grin, but she qas right, the conversation was good, "And what brought you here to Gray Harbor?"

"I'm retired now. Got a little boat, been driftin' around the world since I got out - I was goin' for my thirty years, but got bad hurt in a vehicle wreck and left on a medical discharge," Joe's voice is quiet. "Thinkin' about tryin'a do a full circle on the Pacific rim, but it's slow goin', and truth be told, I'm tired. Figure I'd take a long rest here - slip rental's not so expensive as it might be at Seattle proper. Could pick up a little work to pay for it, maybe. High? Well, I dunno."

The smile is is lazy, slow. "Maybe just bein' alive now. Some'a the milestones you make you're not even aimin' for. What about you? You been listenin' to me jaw - what's your story?"

Continuing to pretend to be intent on her phone, Maggi's posture tenses. She almost gives a 'good luck' sarcastically. She decides to remain quiet instead, seeing how many additional details she can glean. She felt a bit nosy, but then again it's not like she couldn't hear them.

Leon is rocked back in his seat. In all his interest and interrogation, reciprocating in kind was... Hard. "Oh, uh, nothing as interesting." He actually turns back toward the bar a little now, adjustinf himaelf in the seat, retrieving the alcohol this time for a heavy pull, "10 years in the desert fighting someone else's war." He chuckles and shrugs, "The normal shit, nowadays."

"I thought it might be - you had that look. I betcha I was over that desert, more'n once." Joe nods. "Army or Marines? Though....you've been speakin' in complete sentences so far, so I bet you were Army."

Yeah, he's teasing. Just watch Leon turn out to have been a Marine.

The bark of the laugh that Leon returns and the bouncing of a fist off the bar announces Joseph's correct answer, "Damn, but they dont call 'em Jarheads for nothing, eh?" His attention is briefly turned barward, "Hey, Maggi? Put this Squid's drinks on me." He looks back to Joseph, grinning, but ready to bully the man into acceptance if he balked the gesture.

Maggi's eyebrow raises in a less than surprised manner. Yup, that was to be expected...She was watching both of their drinks in case of a need for refills. They were the two customers she cared about keeping happy for them moment. Henry at the bars end could starve for all she cared. She nods to Leon and transfers the drink over to the tab marked 'Soldier'. Space Cowboy comes to a close and she shifts it back to a Nirvana Pandora station. It was times like this she wished she could do cool things like Leon could. Reading emotions was waaaaay more interesting than possibly burning the bar down.

"Don't worry. I'm a cheap date," Joe retorts. "Now all you got to do is tell me I'm pretty." Another grin - still good-natured, though, not mocking. "Yeah. They ain't as bad as SEALs, but they've got a collective opinion of themselves high enough we ought to be able to land infantry on the moon."

Then he raises his glass, now half-empty. "To Uncle Sam's Misguided Children."

"Prettiest tentacles I've ever seen." he jokes back, raising his tumbler in return, "Hooah." Leon agrees, tapping his glass to Joseph's lightly and taking a drink. He grabs a few more fries to snack on, looking at Joseph, "Seriously, though. Real nice to meet you, Joe. You ever need anything while you're in town, just look up Leon the Locksmith. I'm in the phonebook." His head is lifted toward Maggi, "Think I should turn in, new gym routine in the morning. Run me out?"

Placing one hand on her hip, she juts it out some, a scowl running across her face. Over dramatically she speaks "Okay but you gotta pick between knives or hot pokers, we are all out of pitchforks, saving umm for Henry down there." Unable to maintain the look she cracks giggling. She prints out Leon's check and slides it over to him, the name from the computer visible on the paper. She dared not remove anything whilst he was still picking at cheese fries.

"A pleasure, Leon. I'm sure I'll run into you again, I stick around here. And if the weather keeps up crap like this, I will be stickin' until spring," Joe says. "You have a good evenin'."

Then he's turning back to devote himself to that burger and fries. It's a pleasure to eat something that isn't his own shipboard cooking.

"Dont threaten me with a good time," is his automatic response. The check is filled out and a twenty is set carefully atop it, slid back across the bar to her. Definitely an exhorbitant tip, but nothing that would catch an eye or get Maggi in trouble. He gives her a brief nod and smirk as he pulls his jacket around his shoulders, pulling his phone out and typing as he was heading for the door.

(TXT to Maggi) Leon : It was good seeing you tonight. I like that top. Let me know if the rain's too bad when your shift's over.

Maggi snorts gathering up what he leaves behind. He had tipped too high, but she wasn't going to complain. She puts everything in it's proper place wiping down that section of the bar. Looking to her remaining patron she takes on a more serious tone. "You're good for him, I can tell." Behind her one of the kitchen staff signals it's time for her break. "I gotta take a break while they give me one, but I have an ad in the paper you may want to check out, you're pretty alike." The staff member grows impatient and Maggi throws up her arms in exasperation. She waves to Joe, snatching a leather jacket from behind the bar and heading to step outside.