2019-12-18 - But What About The SHOES

Early afternoon in the Two If By Sea. The lunch rush has been and gone. Zach, one of the newest bartenders at the bar, sits behind the bar, idly flicking a paperclip between his fingers. There is no one here, besides a couple of regulars propping up the corner, lost in conversation. Zach continues to flick that paperclick.

What does a "self-employed" aspiring author from a rich family type do during the week? Answer: sleep through lunch and wake up in the early afternoon incredibly hungry and discover you didn't have groceries delivered so you're forced to have to go out somewhere and have someone serve you.

This is Enzo's reality today, though he doesn't seem too put out. He enters and finds himself a seat at the bar, decked out in casually expensive clothes and wearing his hair deliberately a little messy. He taps his fingers against the counter and flashes a slow, lazy smile at Zach. "What's on the menu? Still serving lunch or is this dinner now?"

Oh no! A wild customer appears! Zach flicks the paperclip down behind the bar, standing and straightening as Enzo approaches. The smile from Enzo gets an answering one from the bartender, the man leaning against his side of the counter. "We can still do lunch if you like," he offers, sliding a menu across. "We got burgers and uh..." he freezes, mouth opening and shutting as he realises that he doesn't.. actually know. "...other stuff," he finishes, gesturing to the menu. "You want something to drink while you're making up your mind?"

"Burgers..." Enzo starts to repeat and then trails off, waiting for Zach to continue on. Maybe some specials? A recommendation??? Oh, it's a menu. His smile freezes in place, a perfectly polite smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Great, thanks." Don't worry Zach, he's definitely not judging your customer service skills. "I'll take a gin and tonic and.. " he scans the menu. "This," he points at something appropriately too expensive for lunch.

"Sure man, not a problem," Zach says, wincing at the frozen smile. "Sorry, I'm pretty new, still learning," he admits. "The surf'n'turf steak? Sure, how do you want that cooked?" he asks, moving over to the register to start tapping it in. "Any particular type of gin you want with that? We've got a range," he says, gesturing. "If you like a bit of spice I'd suggest the Aviation or the Oola. Or if you like a bit more floral the Empress or the Fremont?" he suggests. "And I can pair that with whatever tonic you want, or I can pick for you?" he offers. He may not know his food, but he knows his alcohol. He can do this, Enzo.

"Do you have Hendricks?" Enzo asks, putting the menu down and glancing at the top shelf. He instinctively checks his fingers to see if any bar menu residue is on them before reaching for a napkin and wiping them off. "Any tonic is fine. Medium rare and tell your chef not to coat the entire thing in Montreal Steak seasoning. I like to taste my food." He pulls out his phone and flicks through the screens. There's a brief pause and he offers that same lazy smile born of trained politeness, "Thanks, new guy."

"Yessir, we have Hendricks," Zach says with a nod, tapping the order into the register before he starts getting Enzo's drink ready. "Ice and lemon, sir?" he asks, slipping into formality as he tries to get the measure of Enzo. There's a wry smile at the thanks. "I'm Zach," he offers, though doesn't try and do anything as gauche as offering a hand to shake.

"Yeah, that's fine." No handshakes, thanks. Enzo would have to wipe his hands again. Probably on a fresh napkin. He sends off a message on his phone before putting it away inside of his jacket with a long suffering sigh. Life is very difficult, see. With that out of the way, he allows the weight of his attention to rest on the bartender. "Enzo Addington. Just new to the bar or new to Gray Harbor, Zach?"

There's a slight nod at the name 'Addington', as if Zach is placing the man within the hierarchy of Gray Harbor. "New to both, Mr. Addington," he responds as he adds first the ice, then the gin, carefully pouring in a better-than-average tonic. "Just blew into town. And then my car blew a gasket so, here I am," he says with a wide shrug as he puts a napkin down on the bar before the drink goes on top of it. "Nice enough place."

"Do you make a habit of settling in places your car breaks down in?" Enzo wonders before murmuring his thanks over the drink and immediately tasting it. There's a brief pause, a moment's decision as he debates the flavor. Then he nods once, twice. "Good, thanks." He leans into the high back of the bar chair, letting his feet hook the rail. Drinkless arm slightly askew as he waits. "It's home. A bit damp."

Hurrah. The drink doesn't suck. "I do actually," Zach tells Enzo with an amused smile. "Seems as good a way as any to figure out where I'm going to be for the next few months. "It's damp, but where isn't?" he wonders. His accent does place him as Pacific Northwest, though not quite from Gray Harbor. "Have you lived here all your life?" he asks curiously.

"Other places. There are many other places in the country, in the world even, that are not damp, Zach." Enzo shakes his head, sipping from his drink and artfully perfecting the look a looking good while doing nothing at all. Enzo is very efficient and productive (at nothing). "Mostly, except for when I lived somewhere else."

Yes, it's early afternoon, but Abitha is a god damn adult, and Kyle was tasked with the shop today, and... Well christmas shopping was still kind of a bust. She moves into the room casually, thinking to herself she probably should have just nicked some fancy bauble from that stupid Addington-Heeeyyyy, there was one now. Shit. She stops in her tracks midway to the bar, staring at Enzo's back... Or front... Whichever way his stupid Addington face was pointed. Sighing deeply, she decides in for a penny, in for a pound and completes her trip to a stool, unwinding her big woven scarf as she starts to get up onto the seat. "Heyyy, look who's gainfully employed!" She says wryly to Zach, recognizing him.

Zach waggles fingers at Abitha as she enters. "Yup! That's me. Got two of the things now," he says with a wry smile in return. "Can I get you something?" There's a 'ding' from behind him and he goes to get Enzo's steak, carefully putting it and cutlery in front of him. "You need anything else, Mr. Addington?" he asks.

Abitha might recognize Enzo as an Addington but he plainly doesn't seem to recognize her from anywhere, as is apparent by the incredibly generic look of plastered neutrality on his features. This form fed politeness doesn't prevent him from looking her over with a degree of scrutiny, the kind utilized by a person who doesn't recognize most folk don't care for that or more troubling, the sort of person who doesn't care. When his food pops up in front of him from Zach, he smiles. "Just salt and pepper, thanks."

Abitha squints at Zach, curious as he asks, mulling it over. Crossing her legs and adjusting the dark, knee length skirt she was wearing over black tights and short-heeled ankle boots, she wasnt really looking for a menu or food, so she just tries messing with the new bartender, placing her elbows on the bar and leaning, "Ecto Cooler."

Zach nods to Enzo, getting the salt and pepper shakers for him with a smile before his attention turns to Abitha. He leaaaaans against the bar, raising an eyebrow at her. "Sure. Would you like Egon, Peter or Raymond with that?" he asks.

Abitha raises an eyebrow back, turning her face just slightly to give Zach a skeptical bit of side-eye. Sitting back a tad, she was clearly thrown by the response, "That's... a weird question..." She begins, then leans forward just a bit to ask, "Are you messing with me?" Some people might have tried to play it off, ask for recommendations, but not her. Curiosity killed the Mac.

Zach gives Abitha a placid smile. "Ecto Cooler was a drink that was brought out in a limited run to promote the movie Ghostbusters," he states lightly. "It was discontinued at the end of 2016," he points out. "I could get you some Hi-C instead if you wanted though."

"Aha!" Abitha exclaims sounding pleased with herself, but... Then looks dissapointed, "Wait, it was still being made? Fuck..." She shakes her head, pulling her phone out, "No, there's an alcoholic version, jerk. Stop crushing my dreams." She pops open a recipe, spins and sets her phone on the bar amd pushing it across to him. "Shit hits Millenials right in the nostalgia."

"Well, it was another limited run for the reboot," Zach says distractedly as he reads over the recipe. "OKay, sure, I can do that," he says with a smile, moving to make just that, coming back to refer to the recipe a few times.

The discussion on Ghostbuster related drinks goes right over Enzo's head, either by choice or lack of popular sci-fi comedy movie knowledge. Instead, he works on his lunch while sparing Zach and the bar's newest occupant the smallest of skeptical glances before rattling his empty glass in silent request.

"Just saying, it's marketable." Abitha adds as she watches and waits, "S'what I do. Hit people in their old people feels." A glance is also given sideways to Enzo, maybe notntimed the same as his skeptical look, but she side-eyes him all the same. Her foot lifts and falls idly, maybe agitated and trying to hide it.

"How.. how old do you think I am?" Zach asks, raising an eyebrow at Abitha. He moves over to Enzo, taking the glass. "Same again?" he asks, already heading for the Hendricks and tonic.

"Have we met?" Enzo asks of Abitha as an eyebrow pops up in idle curiosity. He seems to certainly think it's possible to meet someone in a town Gray Harbor's size and then forget all about them. He suppresses laughter at Zach's question to her and instead answers, "Yes, please."

"Iiii dunno," Abitha is conservatively but theatrically ridiculous about it, "I mean, like, early 40's at least." She was smirking a bit, joking, but her mirth falters as she glances to Enzo's question, annoyance creeping in. "Met? No. Your were probably a few drinks in, but your family's tree tried to drown us." Whatever that means. She looks back forward, a dead-inside look replacing any comedy.

Zach makes up a second G&T for Enzo, placing it in front of him with a fresh napkin. @"�Thirty thank you very much," he grins at Abitha. And then she's mirthless and he stares between her and Enzo. "...The entire Addington family tree tried to drown you?" he asks, not-understanding. Yes Zach, that's exactly what she meant.

"Thank you," Enzo imparts to Zach, accepting the drink and taking his first sip. Abitha's answer however prompts a bark of incredulous laughter. "Are you angry at me about that? It nearly drowned me too. It's certainly not my fault and if it were, I'd choose a more fashionable way to die." Isn't anyone concerned about Enzo's feelings? No? "Anyway, it made an incredibly dull party more exciting." It's okay Zach, he's probably just an eccentric rich person.

Zach is unfortunately mostly ignored as Abitha is succintly distracted into a tirade, "You're over there worrying about your designer shoes getting wet, standing on the bar like," her voice takes on a suitably mentally handicapped impression while she imitates an English accent... Because thats what you do when you're making fun of someone for being too posh, "'Oh heavens me! How strange!' with your uncle or cousin or whatever like, 'Oh dear me! Should have left those in the ziploc bag!'" she makes a disgusted noise in her throat as she looks away, "Christ, that was terrifying..."

Zach stares at the two of them, then clears his throat. "Uh.. I just have to go clean up something in back. One of the other bartenders can help you if you need anything," he says, finishing up Abitha's cocktail and sliding it to her before he fflees into the back room.

"If you don't like our Christmas parties, you certainly don't have to attend anymore of them," Enzo says with a negligent wave of his hand. He also doesn't bother lowering himself to commenting on her use of voice or accent except to say, "I'm not British. Additionally my shoes are worth far more than at least 10 dozen or so of your oversized Wal-Mart brand scarves. My shoes were utterly ruined." People like when you make fun of their clothes and disinvite them to murderous Christmas parties! He'd say good bye to Zach, but he's busy drinking now.

"Oh trust me, 'Not Attending an Addington Event' is going right to the top if the Self Preservation list, right next to 'Keep Hands Away From Blade' and 'Dont Stick Fingers in Electrical Sockets." There's a pause, a quick glance sideways. Did she really have to worry about that last one anymore? Shit, don't get distracted, Mac! "And as for your shoes, they got wet. If that ruins them, I'd reassess the value of protective foot covering. You live in Gray Harbor. Take a look out a window." She makes another gross sound in her throat, picking her drink up and sipping it, folding her arms and staring straight ahead. Her Mom knit her this scarf, she wasn't going to rise to the bait.

"I find it admirable that you've acknowledged your personal deficits by crafting a list you can refer to for your own personal survival," Enzo comments between sips of his gin and tonic, his tone cuttingly pleasant. "They didn't merely become wet. They were thoroughly soaked and there's a wild difference between taking a swim in the harbor and receiving a fine, gentle misting off of the wind." Sip. "Or rain."

"Yeah well, some deficits can't be cured by throwing mummy and daddy's money at it." Sure, her shoes how gotten soaked too, but they were at home above a warm vent and dry. Functional. The rest of her outfit, well... and she lost a chopstick. So dense. "My point is, your concern was your shoes. Not anyone's safety, even your own. Your shoes." She rolls her eyes, taking another sip herself. Fuck Zach for making this drink actually good, it would be a waste to leave.

"My dad's dead. Someone brutally murdered him, it's probably too soon to be making remarks like that," Enzo drawls chidingly, casually bringing the bickering to 'my dad is DEAD' levels of petty without so much as flinching. "You're being dramatic, no one died. No one even got a tiny papercut! The water wasn't even up to our eyes. You should be grateful the only thing there is to complain about is the utter devastation to my beautiful shoes." He doesn't seem upset at all by what's transpiring now, in fact, he seems to be enjoying himself a little. "What's your name, anyway? Or am I not fashionably suffering enough for your Gen-Y/Millennial tastes?"

It's bright, clear, and cool. A perfect day for the very cusp of winter. Joe should be in sparkling form. His usual imperturbable good nature is somewhat scuffed, however, as he wanders in. He's sporting a bruised, split lip for one - and he's moving like at least a few of his joints are made of glass. In his usual peacoat and jeans, watch cap already in hand as he enters, ambles for the bar to claim his accustomed stool. Almost like he's a regular.

Abitha merely slumps atop her arms on the bar, groaning a long low note of frustration and hiding her face. He pulled the Batman card. "Urrrhh, why does it matterrrr?" Is the muffled reply from deep in the press of sweater-clad arms. She lifts her head enough to glance in the direction of the new aound and motion, simply saying, "Mac." Not like she wanted him to know who she was, or more importantly where she worked.

Ooh, another Addington. He's seen the guy before, down at the Pourhouse. Joe glances after him, but doesn't introduce himself. That doesn't sound like it was aimed at him. Then he looks over to Abitha, and says, simply, "Joe." Shrugging out of his peacoat and settling in.

"No, this is Patrick." Abitha retorts at the introduction. Judging by his look, he probably wouldn't get the joke, but god damn, she was funny. Laughing only on the inside, she glances over, "Sorry, ignore that. Hi, Joe." Her bright green drink is lifted to her lips, sipped. She looks down into the draining liquid, realizing with a sigh she'd have to dig her phone out again if she wanted a second.

"Hi there," he says, a little absently. That drink, however, is enough to hold his attention for a moment. "Pardon me, but what're you drinkin'?" It's a lazy southern drawl, something coastal, that accent. "I don't think I've seen anything that color that was meant to be drunk in a long time. Looks like a Chernobyl Iced Tea, or somethin'."

"Chernob-" she begins, but breaks into a laugh, "That's good. Ha, uh, its an Echo Cooler. Tastes like the Hi-C flavor, but alcoholic." She smirks as she swirls the slightly murky looking liquid that was left with a cocktail straw, "Yaknow, one of those rules like, 'If it exists, make a drink out of it.'" Not exaxtly how the internet rules go, but she was 2/2 on obscure inside humor.

"Wait, like Ghost Busters?" he says, with a reluctant grin, pulled only a little crooked by the bruised lip. "That's a blast from the past. I dunno if I ever had one of those. It looks...." He considers a moment, and comes up with, "Virulent. Like you get drunk on that and develop superpowers, or somethin'."

Abitha laughs a little again, "Yeah, like Ghost Busters. Pretty sure any drink like this will make you feel like you have superpowers, though." She had been so absorbed in lobbing shade at Enzo, she just now notices Joseph's battle damage. "Damn, what happened to you?" She asks, looking a little concerned.

The bartender sweeps by, and the panacea for this afternoon is Jack and coke. Nothing like being both drunk and caffeinated. "Out on the boat the other night, slipped and fell on the deck," he lies, blithely. "Yeah, that thing does look like it'll have you convinced you can fly."

"I hoping for lightning powers," Abitha jokes with a grin, having no real reason to doubt the story. How would she know if boats could punch you in the face? But hey, she was 3/3 on bad inside jokes, though. Now for awkward booze fueled small talk, "What do you do, Joe? Work on the harbor?"

"Right? I'd settle for being able to shoot lightning, yeah," Joe agrees. "Me? I'm retired Navy. Now I'm just sailin' around, goin' where the wind takes me." He nods at the windows, at where the forest of masts lines the dock. "Got a li'l boat. Gonna winter here - I'm tryin'a do full circle on the Pacific rim, the whole Ring of Fire, but fightin' the swell in a northern Pacific winter in a thirty six footer....I'm too damn old and tired for that. What about you?" he wonders, raising his glass to her as the bartender hands over the drink.

The agreement on lightning bolts makes her giggle more than it should, "So you're not just staying because your boat broke down? That's good." Making it a quartet. Nice. "I sell video games." She finishes her drink finally and pushes it across the bar, looking thoughtfully at the taps before explaining further, "I own the Control Pad. I do some streaming and system repair too."

He looks around for Zach, doesn't find him, shrugs. "No, unlike our boy here, I am not a ronin bartender tryin' to nurse a junker along. The Surprise is in good shape. It's her skipper who's broke down," he says, wryly. That revelation makes him grin. "That sounds like a fun job. What's your favorite game? Hell, what's your favorite game system, if you got one."

"Aha!" She exclaims for the second time that day, one of the inside jokes finally landing in its feet, grinning. She straightens, pay acting regal, "I am solidly a member of the PC Master Race. That said, I do not judge those who prefer the lesser systems. Each has its place and function." She snorts a little and leans against the bar again, "Favorite game? Yeesh, thats hard. I play so many, I normally have to do it by genre."

"No, PC gaming makes the most sense. You can upgrade and mod in a way you just can't within the restrictions of a console system." There's a funny reminiscent smile on his face. "My favorite's an old game from the 90s, one of the Star Wars space sims: TIE Fighter."

Abitha's phone is fished from her skirt again at this, slowly breaking into a grin as she taps through some searches. She hops over a stool so she can be beside Joseph as she turns the little screen landscape and a YouTube video begins to play. "The Star Citizen beta had been all over the place. They came close to that feel..." She waves at the bartender, deciding she'd be starting for another drink, settling in so they could watch the video together, "But... What if I told you... There's a fan made remake...?"