2020-06-02 - Bar Talk And Talk Of Bars

It's starting to slip into tourist season, Gray Harbor - even being a less desirable destination than the surrounding towns - is starting to feel the effect. There are new faces, new conversations, and of course the much needed influx of those tourist dollars into the local economy. The local bar nicknamed TiBs by some, Deuce or Twofer by others, is no exception so while the place isn't packed it certainly is busier than it has been of late.

There is a Blonde behind the U-shaped bar along with the more experience staff, trying to learn the business by jumping in with both feet. She's not only getting them wet, she's drowning. "Okay, but if we just..." A low growl of frustration and she stamps her foot like a petulant child and just steps back out of the way. This would be hard enough as it is if she didn't have her left arm in a sling, trying to fly with one clipped wing.

She stands beneath a flyer tacked to one of the liquor shelves, that she salutes with a glass of tequila. "Sorry, babe. I'm trying." The flyer is of a standard missing persons variety of 'Have you seen this man?' with a picture of Easton Marshall. Then another picture below of 'And have you SEEN THESE ABS?!' with a torso shot below. A tongue in cheek attempt at humor for such a dark subject.

Looking more than a little out of his element, Jefferson makes his way into the Twofer, looking around closely at the establishment's interior as he makes his way towards the bar. His eyes scan the missing persons paper and he frowns ever so faintly.

As he reaches the bar itself he pulls back a stool and slides onto it, giving the woman behind it a quick scan and a polite enough nod. The older man continues to study the establishment as he waits for the wounded bartender to finish her toast to the missing person, trying not to let anything or anyone escape his gaze. After his thorough visual exploration Jefferson hunches his shoulders forward he rests his elbows on the bartop, keeping them tight in towards his sides to take up as little space as possible, looking over the various bottles of liquor more closely.

Bennie downs the shot of tequila with a shiver and an exaggerated grimace before turning the shot glass upside down underneath the poster. Where it joins three of its brethren. None of the other staff have had the heart to remove the empties nor correct the Blonde on her behavior. Then she spies Jefferson, looking like he's trying to melt into his seat and disappear. "Sometimes if you want service, you're going to have to hold money up over your head and wave someone down. They're getting slammed." Bennie bellies up to the bar opposite of him, "But I can help. Maybe. Unless you want something fancy I have to put into a shaker, and then you're more likely to be wearing it than drinking it."

"Just wave the cash around? I can do that," Jefferson replies to the younger person, almost managing to put on a smile as he pulls a wad of cash from a pocket, peeling off a twenty and laying it in front of himself. He's wary, though, glancing around again before focusing his attention on the helpful woman, "It's been a while since I've been to a bar. I'm not even sure what I want to drink, there's so much to choose from." Then he seems to spot something and points at one of the bottles, "How's that Buffalo Trace stuff? Probably better than Jack Daniels, I'll bet."

Bennie's head tilts like a comical bird as he pulls out that wad of bills, "Well, not...quite like that." But hey, it works. "It's been a while since you've been to a bar, and it's been never since I've worked one. Well. Subbed in at one. Technically, I'm here under duress." Her smile flickers and fades, and her eyes dart away. "Buffalo Trace, sure." She mumbles, starting to read labels instead of just instinctually being able to reach for the right bottle. Plopping it down in front of him like a waiter seeing if the wine selection is right, she reaches for a rocks glass. Everything is slower when you're working with one hand. "So. Why the hiatus?"

"So we're both out of our element," the older fellow says with a nod. "Why you working here? Especially with a bum arm?" There's an inclination of the head towards her injury. Jefferson is patient while the bottle is picked out and deposited in front of him. Lifting it up he starts reading the label. "200 year old distillery? That's got to be good, then, if they can stay in business that long." He sets the bottle back down, "Let me try it, please."

There's a pause when he gets asked the question about his hiatus. Jefferson seems to weigh things in his mind before shrugging to himself and saying, "I was in prison. Possession with intent to distribute. Non-violent crime, didn't resist arrest or anything, but you get caught with a kilo of anything and you go away for a while."

Thankfully the bottle is already open and has one of those pour spout thingies on it, otherwise there would be an awkward song and dance to get it open in order to pour him two fingers - okay probably three - into the rocks glass, assuming he wanted it straight up. Because she didn't think to ask. "My, uh," Bennie clears her throat, then stretches it out, like she's trying to swallow past some lump that's suddenly appeared. "It's his place. And he, uh, disappeared. So. I'm just...carrying it on until he returns. Thankfully, it sort of runs itself right? I mean. People drink when they're happy, they drink when they're sad." A smile is forced back to her lips, bright and brilliant but not getting anywhere close to being reflected in her eyes. "Don't worry, some of my best friends are ex-cons. You'll fit right in. As soon as you stop looking like you're going to get shanked. Or. Shivved. Which is it? Do you shiv with a shank or shank with a shiv. How many cigarettes is that worth to shank/shiv someone. Sorry, sorry."

As the glass is filled Jefferson studies the amber liquid closely, breathing a little more deeply when he sees it. When the bartender tells him about the status of the bar's owner the ex-con frowns again, "You know if he got in over his head or something?" Then he looks around the establishment and shrugs, "I figure it might be a tough business when it comes to keeping track of inventory and making sure your people are honest. Managing employees always looked like it would be tough to me."

When she points out that he's sitting in on himself and watching his surrounding closely Jefferson can't help but smile a little bit, "I guess it's less likely out here. Shiv and shank are the same thing, depending on who you ask. Shiv is the word you here more often inside. And it's not cigarettes that are the big thing any more. It's cell phones and chargers and drugs. Stuff to help guys pass the time."

"Oh, there's an actual manager for that. I just. Make sure the place doesn't burn down. I dunno. I actually don't know what I'm doing here." A fluttering hand touches her forehead, but Bennie smiles on. "I guess my concept of prison is a little antiquated, unless you consider my obsession with Orange is the New Black. Did you know that scissoring isn't actually a thing? I guess I need to brush up on my lesbianism too. So, whadda think?"

"I guess you could be the person pissed off customers complain to," Jefferson suggests with a shrug, though there's an indication in his voice that says he's joking. "You're the face of the joint, until the owner comes back." Not joking about that.

Picking up his glass he smells the liquor for a moment before bringing it to his lips for a sip. His expression changes slightly, eyes widening and lips pursing. "This is good."

Then he looks a little bit confused, "I don't know what Orange is the New Black is and I've never been a lesbian so I couldn't tell you about scissoring."

"The face. Now that, I can do." Bennie cheers to that by splashing some of that Buffalo Trace into another glass and then reaching over to top off Jefferson's glass even though he's barely had a sip from it. Bottle is exchanged for glass, and she leans forward on her good elbow. "Until he comes back." She clicks her glass against his then downs the liquor. Notice how she glossed over Jefferson's theory about a possible reason Easton disappeared. As if she knows the truth, but isn't sharing. It makes her grow silent for a moment, this introspective, before she brightens again. "You have a lot of television to catch up on, huh? You should watch it. Then you can come back and point out all the inaccuracies."

"Cheers," Jefferson replies as the glasses clink. "Until he comes back." He takes a longer sip this time, clearly savoring the taste of the booze.

He considers the young woman's words for a few moments, "I never watched a lot of TV, but I'll check it out. Whenever I can stomach the idea of prison again. I might have more time for that, though." Then he looks around again, "Hopefully I'll find some kind of work soon. I need to get something. Gotta get some more money and keep myself busy."

Bennie is behind the bar, beneath a missing poster of the bar's true heart that is gone, and yet the beat goes on. She's having a conversation with a man who is busy trying to take up as little space as possible, but there are actual bartenders that are taking care of the customers thankfully. "So what is it you do, besides know what sort of time a kilo of anything will get him? Bennie Oakes, by the way."

"Jefferson Jackson. Call me Jeff," the older dude replies when introductions are made. "I never really had a straight job, honestly. I like gardening, though, so I might see if I can get on with a landscaping crew. Used to tend the gardens in the yard when I got moved to minimum security." There's a glass of whiskey in his hand that he's slowly sipping, looking like he's trying to make it last. "And I heard about this thing where you can use a cell phone to get jobs driving people around, like a taxi almost. I might see if I qualify for that and buy a used Toyota or something. Something reliable. I can't fix cars for nothing."

Into Two If By Sea, and out of the damnably chilly drizzle, comes Juniper. She's muddy about knee and elbow and somewhat rain-soaked, but seems to be in good spirits regardless, just peeling off some thick work gloves and stuffing them into the pocket of her jeans. There's a free stool one or two down from where Jefferson is sat and so she claims it, raising a hand in the direction of a free bartender, ordering a pint of one of the cheaper beers.

Bennie suddenly clunks her glass down, causing a little splash of dark amber liquid to tidal wave over the side and drip onto her hand which she shakes off absently down at the floor mats. "August Roen. That's who you should talk to. He is the resident green thumb around here, might have a job or know of one. He owns the Branch and Bole, you should check it out." Bennie glances over as Juniper joins the milling crowd that is starting to be more tourists than townies due to the season. "Hi. Welcome." The interim face of the Twofer is doing her best to keep it brave and warm.

"August Roen? Branch and Bole? I'll try to track him down," Jefferson says with a solid nod of his head. "Thanks for that. Figured a bar'd be a good place to catch up on local goings on after being away." When Bennie looks over at the newcomer so does Jeff, the older man giving her a polite little wave of his hand before returning it to its place on his glass of bourbon.

"August? He's great. Good shop too. I get a lot of my business from him," Juniper pipes up as she hears a familiar name, having arrived too late for the first bit. She flashes a cheerful grin at Bennie, tipping a salute her way before sliding some money over the bar towards the 'tender in return for her pint.

Bennie draws back from the edge of the bar slightly, dragging her bourbon with her with a cradle of fingers and crossing that arm to rest the glass on the one currently in a sling across her stomach with a little wince. Stepping back to draw Juniper further into the conversation, "See? Roen comes with glowing recommendations. So are you a local then? Even if temporarily relocated."

Focusing his attention on Juniper, Jeff asks the woman, "You mind if I ask what it is you do?" He takes in her attire, notes the mud on her clothes and the fact that she's wet from the rain outside, "You into gardening, too? I like it a lot, but I got a lot to learn. I only really messed with cheap flowers and stuff, stuff that it didn't matter if it died." His glass comes up to touch his lips again for another taste of the whiskey. It's clear the man appreciates the drink. "I'm looking forward to meeting this guy. Hopefully he's hiring, but if he's not I bet he'll know where I can start looking."

"Landscaping and planning, garden clearance and topsoiling, tree work, that sort of stuff," Juniper affirms with a nod to his question about gardening before taking a long sip from her glass and glancing over towards Bennie. "Honestly, I've barely met anyone in Gray Harbour who doesn't know and love him."

Bennie's smile turns a little weak at the edges, her eyes going down to the bourbon in her glass as they go a little misty. "Yeah, he's great." She declares, then downs the contents of her glass in one go, not savoring it like their new ex-con friend. She practically chokes on it, "And soon to be married, so you might want to track him down sooner rather than later before he gets busy with all the planning and the honeymoon and the making babies. Will you both excuse me?"

"Sounds like you know a lot about it," Jefferson tells his fellow gardener, small smile on his face. "I'm Jefferson Jackson, by the way. Call me Jeff." He looks around the bar quickly before offering over a hand to shake. "If you ever need some help with your work I'm looking for a job right now. Still pretty strong, too."

As Bennie, his new drinking buddy, starts to head off he lifts a hand, "Sure. Go do your thing. It was nice to meet you."

"Uh, sure." Juniper eyes Bennie, noting what looks like some discomfort but not really knowing the woman well enough - or, indeed, at all - to say anything else. So she politely looks away, back to Jefferson. She takes the offered hand, leaning a bit to do so, shaking it with a firm grip. "Juniper. Not sure I'm established enough for hiring someone full time, but I can definitely offer at least some work, if something comes up that a second pair of hands would be useful for," she affirms.

"You too." Bennie assures Jeffereson as to the niceties of their meeting, giving a Juniper a little bobble of her head in parting before the blonde slips off for the back office. Even faces of the business need to frown sometimes. Just best it's done in private.

"I'll take anything I can get right now. Gotta show my parole officer I can earn a legal income," Jeff says a moment before he realizes what he just admitted to and winces a little bit. But he dismisses the thought quick enough, "I'm an ex-con, so if you don't want to work with me that's okay, I don't blame you. Never embezzled or anything, though."

There's a low, amused snort from Juniper. "Don't worry about it, honey," she replies, hopping off her barstool and moving down so she's sat next to the self-admitted ex-con. "If you're on the level, then we'll be fine. If you're not, well, I guess we'll cross that bridge when we get there." She isn't even asking what he did time for! Clearly she's naïve. "Have you had any experience with gardening?"

"I'd give you my references but they're all crooks and wouldn't want me handing out their info," Jeff says before letting out a little bit of a chuckle. Then he nods his head, "Last couple of years I've been working in the prison garden. Not a lot of trees or bushes or anything, mostly just flowers, but my flower beds were really pretty. It was fun figuring out what kind of plants needed what kind of sunlight and stuff. I just found it really relaxing, like the garden was the place I didn't need to worry about prison politics or any of that crap. I could just take care of plants, you know?"

Nodding thoughtfully, Juniper takes another sip from her beer. "Alright, I can work with that. If you don't have other work lined up and you're interested, you can shadow me for a couple of jobs. Can't pay you much for 'em as they're mostly one-person projects, but you'll learn plenty and get your hands in the ground - which for some people is incentive enough." Clearly by her tone she's one such, though that probably comes as no surprise. "If after that it turns out we don't get along, we can part ways with no hard feelings. If it works out, then you'll know enough to help me with bigger jobs that pay better."

"That works for me," Jeff tells Juniper with a grin, visibly relaxing as he straightens up his posture somewhat and ceases to hunch over on himself. "I wouldn't mind just watching you for a while because, like you said, it would give me a chance to learn a lot and do something that I like." He nods a few times, "Yeah, that all makes sense to me. I even got a cell phone so you can get a hold of me whenever something comes up. Now that I'm not inside I'd like to try to stay busy."

The gardener nods, checking her pockets until she finds her own phone, bringing it out and setting it up for a new contact and offering it over to Jeff so he can input his number. "I'll text you when you've added yourself, so you've got my number," Juniper affirms. "In the meantime, assuming you've got somewhere to live with at least ten square feet of outdoor space, might I suggest starting a vegetable garden? Does wonders for keeping the grocery bills down and there's a lot of space-saving designs to be had."

When he's handed the phone it takes Jefferson a moment to figure out what he's doing. Once he gets it, though, he punches in his name and number. "Do I take a picture of myself with it, too? I'm getting good at selfies." He doesn't betray much emotion to show if he's joking, but he does hand the mobile back before snapping a shot of himself. "Yeah, that's a great idea! Be a lot of fun to grow my own food. I'm over in the trailer park, so I might need to figure out what land I can actually work with, but I think I can probably plant in the front yard."

A low, throaty laugh greets Jefferson's presumed joke, and Juniper taps out a quick text before responding with, "Huckleberry Mobile Homes? I'm there too, which is convenient." Tucking her phone away again, she takes another long drink from her pint. "You'll have at least a bit of space, and if you build planters rather than planting down directly into the plot, they're fine with vegetables being grown." Speaking perhaps from experience.

"Cool. I'll have to get cracking on that, probably go to Roen's store for the supplies," Jeff says as he pulls out his device to check out the text and add Juniper to his contacts. "These things do everything now. I'm old enough that I remember when texting was a new thing and camera phones were a big deal. Now, I can make my own movie on this thing and text it to the internet with a Twitter or one of those things." He sighs a little bit, "It's so nice being outside, let me tell you. A good drink, good people to talk to. I can't wait to start driving again."

"You're not alone there. I got my first phone at fifteen, and it was a brick compared to these," Juniper reminisces with a wry smile. "Though I've at least had the opportunity to keep up with technology as it's happened." Rather than being a guest at the local penitentiary. "Yeah, I can't even imagine it to be honest," she acknowledges a moment later. "I've got a stack of pallets in storage, the wood is cheap but good enough for planter boxes if you want it." Presumably that's why she has them, to save on buying more expensive wood just to hold soil.

Looking down at his phone for another couple of seconds, Jefferson eventually puts it away again to focus more of his attention on Juniper. "Yeah, I got a ton of catching up to do when it comes to technology. And books and movies, too." He shrugs his shoulders, "I knew what I was getting into if I ever got caught, though. Can't blame anybody but myself, right?" Then he nods a couple of times, "That sounds great. I'll probably text you when I'm getting started on the project to see when it's okay to pick some up."

Juniper nods at that and lifts her pint glass in Jefferson's direction. "To getting back to work and settled on the outside, then," she proposes as a toast, then adds with a sly smile, "And when you're on-site with me, I take my coffee black, with two sugars."

"To legitimate work," Jeff says with a grin of his own as he lifts his glass to touch hers. By now there's not much whiskey left so he polishes it off. "Black, two sugars. I should be able to remember that." As he sets his glass down he says, "I think I'm going to get a move on, though. I'm still seeing how much everything in town has changed."

There's a nod from Juniper and she murmurs, "Take care of yourself, honey, and I'll be in touch soon." She seems inclined to stay and sip her beer, lifting her free hand to wiggle fingers at Jefferson in goodbye.